#I also did not completely rewrite this from scratch at the last minute

[blametheeditor]

I need more tiny James in my life. He’s very holdable.

Agreed, he is very holdable! I think we both need more tiny James, it's good for the soul!

Content Warnings: Cursing. Trapping someone against their will. Addressing someone as ‘it’. Mentions of infestations.

And bad for Scott’s health

________________________

Scott doesn’t so much as blink when he spots something dart across the desk out of the corner of his eye. 

If he was looking over reports at Fazbear Entertainment Center, he might’ve been a little more concerned. That location is newly built and hasn’t even existed for a full year. It shouldn’t be possible for any kind of infestation to run rampant in the walls. Not when wooden beams aren’t so rotten they’ll turn to dust the moment air hits them, and the walls are properly insulated to keep moisture from seeping in. 

As it turns out, he’s at Freddy Fazbear’s, a location that’s over 20 years old and has its fair share of issues, including being overrun by rodents and pests alike every other year. At least the rats and roaches made some kind of agreement they’ll switch off who gets the run of the place. 

Scott was hoping they’ll get a break this year considering he hasn’t caught a single glimpse of antennas peeking out from under cabinets or dark shapes scattering for cover when a light is flipped on. It turns out they’ve only gotten smarter, giving him a false sense of security so he wouldn’t have pest control on speed dial until they arrived. 

They may have won this round as a collective, but he isn’t anything but experienced with one on one encounters. And as luck would have it, he had yet to get a refill of coffee.

Scott’s concentration on the financials before him isn’t broken as he reaches for his empty mug. With practiced movements, he picks it up before turning it over in his hand as he circles a line to remind him to check in against what the manager reported. Only when his trap is ready does he finally glance in the direction he saw the fleeting form disappear. 

It seems to sense his intentions, because the moment he looks at the phone is the moment it runs to find better over. If it had been on the floor or even ran over his shoe, he wouldn’t have bothered giving it so much as a second thought. It decided to invade his desk, however, in the middle of him needing to have this done by noon for Afton to review. 

So Scott effortlessly thunks his mug over the roach. Turns back to the desk at hand, satisfied there won’t be anymore distractions. 

He was a bit too quick to celebrate. Because even though nothing will be catching his eye as it scuttles over the desk, something is trying its best to get him in trouble with Afton. This time in the form of a distinct though very soft clanging sound. It’s not loud enough for him to immediately discern what is it or where it’s coming from, but it sits right on the edge of his hearing where it will drive him mad if it doesn’t stop. 

Scott sighs in frustration. Tosses his pen away before leaning back in the chair as he stretches. Once his joints have popped back into place, he finds himself turning toward the East hallway. His gaze becomes longing, wanting to do nothing more than walk into the kitchen to get another cup of coffee. 

That’s when he realizes he can’t hear the noise anymore. 

Confused, the man leans toward the desk. Feels his brow furrow as the clanging is once again within earshot. 

What the hell?

Realizing it’s coming from the desk, Scott carefully gathers up his papers to set aside. Gives a cursory look over the surface to confirm there’s nothing out of the ordinary. He then begins to open up the drawers to see if something’s rattling around. Pauses when the noise stops after the headache inducing squeal of metal scrapping echoes through the office. 

Looking down in the drawer, he doesn’t see anything that could be the culprit, proceeding to close it again before waiting. 

It’s silent. And then the noise starts again, this time distinct erratic compared to the rhythmic tempo from before. 

A chill runs down Scott’s spine. Because it can’t just be a coincidence the sound stopped when he made one, not when his actions seemed to have directly effected whatever is causing the clanging. 

Ready to pack everything up and say to hell with Afton, his eyes land on the fan. And suddenly Scott feels like a complete idiot not having thought of checking that first. It’s about just as old as the building and honestly a miracle the thing hasn’t broken before this. 

Scott flips the switch with a long sigh. Rubs his face tiredly as he turns back to his papers, snagging his pen to continue the monotonous task of reading numbers. 

Except the clanging doesn’t stop once the blades are still. If anything, it’s gotten louder, and quicker as if rejuvenated. And now, the man can almost hear something muffled added to it. 

His eyes lock on his overturned mug. Freezes as it finally clicks there’s something hitting the ceramic. 

...roaches can’t do that. 

Scott will admit fear begins to take root, unsure what exactly he managed to catch. He hadn’t exactly check to make sure it was a roach, just jumped to the assumption it was one. What else could it be? 

He stares at the unassuming mug for a long moment. It’s enough time for whatever the hell it is to start faltering, the odd sound that might as well be his death toll slowing until it finally stops. The silence is loud in his ears. 

Curiosity wins over the fear of potentially getting bit by something poisonous or releasing one of Afton’s deadly creations into the world. Besides, he’s already caught it once. If it somehow manages to escape, it’s clearly no match for a ceramic mug. 

Scott reaches over the desk, carefully grabbing the bottom of the mug with his fingertips. Slowly, carefully, he then lifts it at an angle about half an inch. Not enough space for something to squirm its way out, but enough so he can finally hear the odd sound clearly. 

“Cawthon, it’s me, Stiller!” 

Scott’s mouth drops open at the same time the mug thumps back into place. His hand doesn’t move as he’s left to sit in complete shock. Because that wasn’t, it couldn’t have been, it’s not possible. 

He did not just hear James’ voice come from underneath the mug. 

James Stiller is a young man who Scott essentially forced Afton to hire as an on call doctor. James Stiller stands about the same height as him. James Stiller could never be mistaken for a roach. 

Scott takes a deep breath. Silently prays that after 20 years he isn’t finally loosing his sanity. Lifts the mug up completely to reveal James, the one man crouched with one hand clutching a fishing hook and the other raised defensively. 

“James?” the man demands, though it sounds more like a plea than anything. 

Miniscule brown eyes rapidly blink before squinting up at him. As if he was in complete darkness just before. Which means this his real, his mind isn’t playing tricks on him, he trapped the doctor under a mug. 

“Hey, boss,” James greets. Sends a wary look above him before offering a hesitant smile. “Almost had me worried that’s how you normally punish those who interrupt you.” 

“Oh God no,” Scott breathes, horrified at the thought of knowingly trapping James like that. Trapping anyone. “I am so sorry, I swear I had no idea you were...” 

He trails off as the last few minutes finally sink in. Not just the part where the assumed roach turned out not to be one, the part about the fact it turned out to be James. Even though that should be impossible. 

There’s no way to deny it, however. The person standing before him is James. And there the phone stands directly beside the man, the receiver three times his size. 

“You’re tiny.” 

“And you’re giant.” 

Scott sputters. “James this is serious. I trapped you with a mug for God’s sake!” 

The doctor hesitates, looking tense. After a moment, he gestures above him. “I can explain. Though, I would prefer if the mug isn’t involved.” 

He hadn’t noticed he never set the mug down after the big reveal, meaning it’s been hovering over James’ head, capable of sealing him away in darkness at any moment. Scott is more than happy to set it down. Right side up so it can’t simply be grabbed to trap James again. 

Turns to the doctor to look him up and down. “Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine, didn’t even run into the side of it,” James reassures. He seems to think something over before lowering his arms, the fishing hook glinting in the dim lighting as it’s tapped against his leg. “You know, usually people try to catch me with a jar.” 

“They what?” Scott demands, appalled at the thought of someone knowingly trapping James. And while a mug is certainly despicable, a jar seems ten times more malicious, especially with the sole purpose of catching someone. 

“It’s human nature,” the doctor shrugs. “I go against every scientific law of energy and matter conservation, not to mention it’s a bit fascinating to find a living person that’s no taller than you’re finger.” 

Scott suddenly feels sick. “I swear I had no idea what you were. I just assumed you were a roach.” 

Despite how small the man’s face is, the expression of pure amusement is easily recognized.  “Left your reading glasses at home, Cawthon?” 

“It was a glance.” 

James only gives a wry smile before it morphs into something more thoughtful. “So, you had no plans for me specifically?” 

That’s when it finally clicks. As the shock from finding a handheld James slowly fades away, Scott begins to peace everything together. From the doctor commenting about being caught before, to the fishing hook having what looks to be a thread tied around it, to the expectation the mug was used to trap him for a reason. 

James wasn’t shrunk and somehow made his way onto the desk. Being only a few inches tall is normal to him. 

God, what did he stumble into? 

Scott pinches the bridge of his nose as he takes a long, deep breath. Slowly exhales as he tries to think about how he should proceed. When he’s gathered his thoughts, he looks down to find James casually leaning against the phone with his arms crossed as if it’s the wide of a building rather than something people use to make calls. 

“No,” Scott begins softly in response to James’ original question. “I didn’t and don’t have plans for you except ask you’ll be at Fazbear’s Pizzeria from 2 until 7.” 

The doctor’s eyes go wide as he stares up. Only then does Scott realize how much he must tower. God he’s a monster. “Don’t want to ask me any questions?” 

“No,” Scott growls. “I can only imagine what you use that hook for, and I would rather not know how many times you nearly break your neck in a day.” 

It’s better he doesn’t know. Or else James would be at risk of being locked away for his own safety. Never to be studied as an interesting specimen, but certainly to keep him from dying by his own stupidity. 

If Eggs is ever suddenly handheld, Scott’s locking the mechanic in a cage and throwing away the key. 

“I’ll be at Fazbear’s Pizzeria by 2,” James agrees. “Mind if I stay here until then?” 

Scott glances over at the clock, glares as 10:20 blinks at him as if to say he’s running out of time to finish looking through the financials. “As long as you don’t distract me.” 

“You won’t even know I’m here.” 

Truthfully, he should’ve known James would be distracting even if he didn’t move from his spot by the phone. But Scott is an idiot, not to mention greatly ashamed of the fact he treated someone like a pest even though it was unknowingly. He didn’t have the heart to kick the doctor out of the room. 

Maybe it would’ve been better to banish James. It certainly would have saved his heart from yet another scare when the pen he was reaching for turned out to be a living person. 

At least he had the foresight to check before he blindly grabbed. If he hadn’t, James either would’ve been snatched up carelessly or flicked across the desk. Though, he wouldn’t have needed to check if a certain shrunken man hadn’t picked the pen up so they’re standing side by side. 

Scott can only sigh in exasperation, unable to even admire the fact the pen is about twice the man’s size. “Why?” 

James shrugs, a bit too casually for someone who was almost grabbed. “Wanted to see something.” 

That earns the doctor a glare. “I’m counting this as a distraction.” 

“Means I’m doing my job.” 

“Jameson Stiller I swear to God.” 

[annie-creates]

Soft dean of evil

Pairing: Lady Lesso x anxiety reader (platonic)

Genre: fluff (kinda)

Words: 1500

Note: This is based on the idea @missvifdor posted. I took it as a personal challenge as I haven't written anxiety stuff before and I hope I didn't disappoint. Also y'all seem to like angst way more than fluff. XD

The exams week was coming up. You had a small test here and there until now, but the determining exams were scheduled for the end of the semester. After two years at the school for evil, this year the classes were much harder and more advanced than what you were used to. You were confident in your knowledge before, but you didn’t know if it’s gonna be enough this year. You always wanted to perform well, being a perfectionist who didn’t wanna fail anything.

You started studying few weeks in advance, just in case. You wanted to make sure you don’t underestimate anything, not wanting to risk a fail in your third year of studies. You’d read your books before you went to sleep or in between classes, preferring them over hanging out with your friends and making mischief. They could wreak havoc without you while you’re going to go over your materials.

When it was only a week until the first exam, you devoted yourself to studying even more, sitting at your desk in the dorm for hours or seeking quiet places in the library, sometimes completely forgetting to come to dinner. You already had one fail from last year professor Manley gave you, you definitely weren’t risking another. You felt like your studying was going great, or at least fine. You knew most of your material, felt pretty confident in your memory and thought you were passing all your classes just fine.

You still wanted to learn more though to make sure you’re gonna give a great performance in the exams. Three days prior to the first one, you started having trouble sleeping. You could lay in bed for hours, restlessly rolling over with your thoughts going miles per hour. What if you’re not going to do well? So you opted to use those sleepless hours to study even more in the dim light of your bedside candle. It’s gonna be just a week, and then it’s over. You can manage to not sleep for a week if needed, right?

The first exam came before you even knew it, and you felt like you did kind of fine in Special talents, professor Sheeks didn’t seem particularly dazzled but she didn’t look like she’s gonna fail you either. Your second exam the next day tho was a test from Curses and death traps with Lady Lesso. That woman absolutely terrified you. Not only was she popular for being extra harsh and unforgiving on her students, she treated you all as if you were the mere plaque walking on Earth. But your overachieving ass was determined to prove her wrong. Nothing short of perfection was acceptable if you didn’t wanna end up in her doom room, and believe me you definitely didn’t.

Needless to say, you had no sleep the night before, rather burying yourself in the textbook. You felt like you didn’t know anything, even though you were going over the material for days, even weeks now. As the morning of the exam came you didn’t feel any better. In fact you felt much worse. Your thoughts couldn’t stay in one place and you felt a bit dizzy like throwing up. Your muscles started hurting but you convinced yourself it’s just from the long hours of sitting.

As you sat at your desk anxiously waiting for the questions, you silently thanked yourself for skipping breakfast cause it might as well end up on the floor now. You really tried to calm yourself and focus once you got the test, but no matter how hard you tried to keep steady your leg kept bouncing under the table successfully taking your concentration away. You scribbled a few answers, suddenly not being sure of anything, so you kept scratching and rewriting them. When you felt like you didn’t know you bit the end of your pen in thought, but you really couldn’t focus your mind on anything.

What felt like just five minutes to you turned out to be the whole hour when Lady Lesso asked for the tests back. You looked at your test freaked out that it was only halfway done, and that finished half probably wasn’t even right. It felt like tears were already stinging in your eyes as you set the paper on the stack on Lady Lesso’s desk and went back to get your things. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and let the floor swallow you whole. You’re definitely gonna fail the test. And Lady Lesso will punish you and torture you in the school dungeons.

“Y/N?” startled you turned around in the door when the teacher called out to you.

“Um, yes?” you answered perplexedly, did she already know you’ll fail the class?

“Are you alright? You seam a little green.” Lesso wasn’t one to sugarcoat anything but when she saw how stressed one of her best students looked today, she couldn’t help but feel a bit of worry about you.

“Ugh, yeah, yeah, sure…” Not knowing what to say you just shrugged your shoulders.

“I noticed you weren’t quite concentrated on the test…” her words weren’t unusually cold but you felt like she must already know how bad you did on the test.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t hurt me…” was all you were able to get out before your sobs overtook your body and you started shaking.

“Hey, it’s alright, come here.” Surprised she didn’t necessarily know what to do with your collapsed form but she took you by the shoulders and sat you on her desk so that you don’t pass out. “What’s going on?”

“It’s… I did so bad… and I don’t know anything… everyone is gonna fail me and you’re gonna torture me and turn me into some scary monster and I’ll never really live again and I’ll be miserable…” your rant went on and on, once you started voicing your insecurities out you couldn’t stop.

“Hey, shh shh, stop.” Lesso squeezed your shoulders to ground you and furrowed her brows seeing the awful bags under your eyes. “You’re not gonna fail, you’re my best student. It’s just anxiety talking…”

You put your hand on her forearm trying to steady yourself. “But I didn’t even finish the test…” you were confused why would she not let you fail.

“It’s alright, I’m confident in you. Or you can take a make up test, but look at you, when was the last time you slept?” you couldn’t really answer that so you just put your head down in shame. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. You’ll answer me when I ask something.” With a strong grip on your jaw she forced your head up to look into her eyes.

“A week…” you mumbled shamefully.

“What was that?” Lesso raised an eyebrow challenging you to try and not follow her orders.

“It’s about a week.” You exhaled while giving up the fight with your depressed feeling.

“Oh poor thing. Here’s what we’re going to do alright? We’re gonna get you something to eat from the dining hall and then tuck you neatly in bed. And you’re not gonna set a finger out from under the duvets until tomorrow. Understood?” her strong look was giving you no room for discussion.

“Okay.” Your sigh was enough for her to get you up and going, directing you into the dining hall.

After Lady Lesso made sure you had enough sweets and fruit to eat, she took you personally into your dorm making sure you follow what she told you. She wasn’t a stranger to anxiety herself, being just a naïve unaware reader when she first got into the school herself. But she learnt how to cope and she’s gonna help her students too. There was no way she was risking the future of evil failing the school because of neglected mental health.

“In you go.” She cooed you into bed, making sure you’re comfortable draping your duvet over you. After you were tucked in bed, she turned around to leave.

“Lady Lesso?” you asked in a small unsure voice.

“Yes?” Lesso turned back around to answer any request you might have.

“You really aren’t going to torture me?” maybe it was stupid to ask but you wanted to be sure.

“Did you break the school rules?” she encountered shaking her head with a small smile. “Of course I’m not going to torture you.”

“And Lady Lesso?” you called to her again when she was nearly at the door.

“Hm?” she was getting a little impatient with you, when did she go so soft to take such good care about her students anyway?

“Thank you… for taking care.” You smiled at her and finally sinked into your pillow.

“You’re welcome.” With that she left and closed the door behind her.

Maybe she went a bit soft in her days as the dean of evil, but as she overlooked your petite form, she couldn’t find it as such a bad thing.

[pokelolmc]

I’m Not Scared of You Anymore

(cheesy title, I know...I’m in a rush wrapping it up right now and I couldn’t think of anything...)

Happy Holiday Truce to @tidehopper! I was chosen as your secret santa!

I did a fic based your first prompt: “an angsty identity reveal (either to Maddie and Jack or Dash)”. I went with Dash.

(I did end up writing the class and bathroom scenes during the middle of the night last minute, though, because the idea of how I originally wanted them to go completely got away from me...so if they sound a bit weird in comparison to everyone else, I apologise!)

(Also, no link, sadly: I don’t have an AO3 Account...RIP me) If you have trouble with read more’s (like I do with the IOS App), I’m so sorry...*shrugs* you could always try on PC...?

(warning about the bullying: cartoonish teenage nastiness because I tried to rewrite the scene slightly sleep-deprived and forgot what I wanted to write)

______________________________________

...needless to say, Dash wasn’t having a good morning. He hopped out of the car with a quick “love you” to his mum on the way out—or, more accurately, exactly before the way out (after all, he didn’t need any of the kids at school knowing he was a mummy’s boy, did he?)—but the frustration channelled into the beefy hands that clenched hard around the strap of his shoulder bag and tore it out of the foot area in front of the seat. As he set foot on the bristly lawn of Casper High, a familiar voice called his name and a matching letterman jacket hurried towards him through the colourful throng of students. Kwan sidled up next to him on the stroll into the school building, straight-faced and absorbing his anger like a wall of sponge.

The English exam results came out on the weekend via email.

Much to Dash’s fuming disappointment, he got to read a line of straight D’s.

Fuck! He’d have a lot to answer for with Lancer after school today.

“It’s alright,” his best friend reassured gently (though, he internally squirmed with the knowledge that Kwan probably maintained his straight B—literature always seemed to be his strong suit, out of anything not sports-related), “We’ve got an assignment coming up next, so no need to cram. Did you go through that poetry book from the start of the semester?”

“No.” Dash grumbled; honestly, what did he expect? Apparently exactly that, if his next response indicated anything.

“We were supposed to go over the first chapter on the weekend, but we can come do it over at your place after school, if you want—” he offered, “what Lancer doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Nah, I don’t want to look at another piece of poetry for the next fucking month! All I feel like doing right now is blowing off some steam!” his grit teeth transitioned into a smirk—

“Want to go teach a lesson to the first little shit we come across? One of the nerdy brats, probably one of the teacher’s pets Lancer handed an A to.” He suggested.

Kwan hesitated for a second, then nodded.

They made their way down the opening corridor, Dash trailing at the front pounding his fist and Kwan trailing behind like a shadow. The sea of children on either side parted out of their way like the Red Sea, squishing up against their lockers in a vain effort to minimise themselves. The star of the football team darted his eyes from one end of the hall to another—half of the nerds were hurriedly shutting their lockers and hobbling out of the corridor, books in tow. Dash growled in disappointment…

As they walked further down the hallway, a conspicuous goth getup, tacky turtleneck sweater and red-and-white t-shirt caught his eye.

…Fenton!

A small grin spread across his lips.

It wasn’t one of Lancer’s A-grade pets, but it’d do just fine.

Fenton was listening avidly to that geek, Foley, the latter’s voice groaning about something until the pitch soared through a glass roof and his scratched vocal cords screeched. He received a punch in the shoulder from Manson—playful or reprimanding, Dash didn’t care—eliciting a small chuckle from the other boy. Manson returned him the same service and the boy in question lightly groaned.

“Hey, Fenturd! The fuck are you doing laughing around after the English grades came out?! Didn’t you tank rock bottom?!”

…Silence.

…

What?!

He charged up to the group full-force and opened his mouth to yell again— but the tell-tale mop of black hair finally stopped talking to the hushed techno geek and turned around to face Dash.

His feet stopped of their own accord.

Typically-skittish sky-blue eyes glanced over him blankly, straining for alertness above dark circles and mouth having had eradicated its old programming of a snarky grimace until only a dead line remained. Seconds dragged their exhausted feet across the no-man’s land between them, provoking no more than the slight jump of Fenton’s eyelids upwards.

…

“The fuck is wrong with you today, Fenturd?! You going deaf or something?! I come to all this trouble and you can’t even tell when someone’s talking to you?!”

Instead of rolling upwards in scathing snark, those ebony eyebrows knitted into a foreign tapestry—gaze narrowed with a surreal contemplation, a despondent sheen on the surface, yet a thin ice lurking beneath pinned him to the spot like a bug in a museum exhibit, causing his already restless insides to dance. The thin shield fell, and they sagged into something ragged and tired.

“…what do you want?”

The drive in Dash’s muscles disappeared, energy dropping eerily to lukewarm…then a light cold. His eyes lost their footing on Fenton’s face, darting from one feature to another like a hot potato, as if dodging every lock of hair and square inch of freckles with all the reflex of yanking his hand back from a molten iron rod.

An uncanny tar surfaced in his squirming stomach.

Was…was something about him…different?

“Thought your nutcase parents would’ve meant you could at least half-ass school! Guess you’ve even failed their crazy standards!”

…not a twitch.

“Excuse me?! Someone’s fucking TALKING to you!”

Finally, Fenton’s teeth bit his lip…right before they clenched into his sharp speech, voice barely above a careful mumble. His tone dragged, laced with hints of desperation.

“…You really got nothing better to do to vent your shit? …Nothing more important to do with your life?”

His hand headed to grab Fenton by the collar, but paused.

His insides decided to burn their pent-up energy by climbing up the wall of his abdomen, and his brain fell into a pit of molasses. His mouth begged its silent counterpart for an answer…and turned face-to-face with a looming void. A thought, a feeling…transient words teased him from a distance, but a fog swept them away into the darkness.

“…you really think I have time for fucking mind games?!”

Fenton’s features twisted into stone.

Dash’s heart jumped up his throat. His brain tumbled backwards into the viscous muck. The pressure of the linoleum never left the distant image of his shoes, yet the ground plummeted out cruelly from beneath him.  

Something in those used-to-be-mousy sapphires glinted uncannily, burying brutally into the depths of Dash’s chest like an abrasive icicle—grating against his ribs and chilling him to his core.

I’m not scared of you anymore.

…and Dash couldn’t even explain why. Every attempt to wrack his drowning brain for any modicum of a reason—a cause, an explanation, a sign—only sent it into a disorienting spin beneath the surface. Memories flooded through him until his head hurt, and he grasped desperately for anything—a telltale episode of defiance here, a snarky remark or comeback there, an explanation for such a sudden display of power and assertion from a spindly, cowardly nerd…Nothing.

A primal instinct in his brain desperately hijacked the autopilot—his teeth clenched around a muttered insult, and his sneakers turned away and walked on paper-thin air—much to the terrified protests of his internal gyroscope—to his first class.

By the time he made it to the classroom, reality had returned to him, but a fog of numb bewilderment had taken up residence in its absence. His brain half-ejected from the droning greeting given by Lancer as his plump form strolled into the room, a stack of folders under his arm. “…Good morning, everyone. I hope you’re all satisfied with your results on the last exam. Unfortunately, we have to move a tad faster than expected, so I hope you all read the chapter I assigned last week; I have worksheets for you all to fill out about the first four poems—”

The man’s drone faded out as questions nagged the back of Dash’s swimming mind like an unbearable itch, begging to be scratched.

…What the fuck was that earlier?!

His head spun as it traced the minutes backwards—thoughts and images that had been right in front of him slipped through his fingers, transient and dubiously artificial.

Had he…imagined that?

This Fenton, he was talking about—whiny, weak, gangly Fenton. The meek son of Amity Park’s most crazed (albeit semi-useful) ghost hunters. . The hunched, mumbling, meek nerd whose only fight when Dash shoved him in his locker was a snarky quip—lazy, laid-back, black-sheep-of-the-already-weird-Fenton-family-Fenton, who didn’t have the guts (or the height) to look anyone higher up than him in the high school food chain in the eye.

…who was, somehow, the same Fenton who blatantly deafened all of Dash’s normal morning jeers and calls, pretending as if he didn’t exist….a Fenton who detached from all that was familiar, stared Dash coldly in the eye and lanced directly into his core…like gazing into the face of an alien in a human guise.

...but that was stupid! He HAD to have been seeing things!

His swimming brain refused to deliver him the image of those eyes in full vivid detail, but the image that plagued Dash on rapid repeat burned into his mind enough—the blue expanses had frozen over, an enigma lurking beneath the depths of those ice caps that seemed sharp enough to impale someone, but clouded over its barb with something…jaded. Dark circles pulling on the skin underneath notwithstanding, the eyes themselves seemed to strain with a struggle for effort uncanny for their youth, as if some creature unseen had worn their owner to exhaustion…

…yet alert enough to snap straight up at the presence of footsteps and impale another’s soul.

…I. Was. Seeing. Things! End. Of. Story!

There was no way…

There was no way, after every mundane morning he’d stared down that face, that Fenton’s eyes would all of a sudden burrow their way into his insides.

(No, what the fuck was the thinking about?! Hurt, there’s no way that hurt! He was supposed to be impenetrable!)

He sighed deeply and his own gaze sank to the empty worksheet he hadn’t bothered to read any of the material for; he couldn’t give a fuck, he just wanted the clock to tick faster…

As Lancer’s longwinded monologue faded from attention, a muddy confusion and bubbled up the back of his throat, creeping insidiously up the ladder of his spine to the base of his skull…

The hairs on the edge of his hairline prickled with a deep shudder, as if an invisible scrutiniser’s gaze crawled painstakingly up his back…

A jolt struck him from head to toe and the room fell frigid.

His mind catapulted into a pit of molasses, desperately wading through confusing muck as his gaze whipped to the others around him. To his right, he met the indifferent, neutral visage of Paulina and hunched focus of Star, eyes glued to her work. To his left, Kwan slouched in his chair, his pencil scratching against paper aimlessly while his eyes traced the careless dawdle of a fly across the room.

A profound shiver prickled his scalp and his eyes, as if magnetised, felt drawn behind him, muscles straining and taking his entire head with them. Following some indecipherable urge from his uneasy gut, his gazed fell to a halt on the slender frame planted in the seat next to Manson.

Small shoulders hunched over paper, gaze staring into nothingness… His mind indignantly reprimanded the insidious feeling that rocked the sea in his stomach— this was just Fenton; gangly, cowardly little Fenton…

…then the head looked up.

Sapphires, confusion slightly marring a look of indifference, locked into his eyes— iris for iris, pupil for pupil…

Dash’s blood ran cold.

His lungs froze mid-breath and the chilling plague in the air sunk deep into his bones. The enigma in those jaded oceans rose out with sickly, hooked tendrils and reeled his gaze in until he couldn’t tear away from their murky depths—sending his uneasy intestines into writhing knots. The image of the world around him collapsed into a blurry, amalgamation of swirled paint—a hazy afterthought—behind the sharp stare pinning him through. The blackness of the pupils bore directly into his, a looming void of something foreign and inhuman—

“Mr. Baxter?”

The teacher’s voice, once a source of nigh-intolerable boredom, became a well-welcomed hammer to the walls closing in on him.

He finally dragged his eyes away with a hiss and whipped his head back to his work.

“Yes sir?”

“I assume you’re not trying to copy Mr. Fenton’s work.”

“No, of course not.” He reassured quickly. His restless gaze, desperately looking for somewhere to rest, took refuge zeroing in on the corner of his desk.

Lancer’s callout seemed to put the rest of the class on alert, and all irrelevant chatter miraculously ceased. Above the scratching of pencils, the tick of the clock and the lone ramble of the overweight teacher about literary analysis, the room was blanketed in a fog of dead silence.

…yet the invisible needles of another pair of eyes never relented their attempts to drill their way through his back, and his guts clawed up his inner walls frantically in a plea for escape. His focus intently zoomed in on the clock in a futile attempt to make the lesson just end.

I need to get out!

Every minute that passed seem to stretch into eternity, in a twisted form of torture the universe seemed to have concocted specifically for him. His thoughts yanked between that one head in the row behind him and the ticking hands at the front of the room in an intense tug of war until the tear down the middle was burning and ready to snap him in half. The voice inside his head, faded as reality slowly shrivelled around him, only deigned to scream louder.

Get out! Get as far away from him as possible! I don’t care how as long as he’s not here anymore GET OUT!

“…Sir, can I use the bathroom…? It’s urgent.”

With a sceptical eye sparing a glance in his direction, Mr. Lancer returned to the blackboard.

“…very well, but arrive back before the lesson ends. This information is paramount to your next assignment.”

Dash couldn’t care less, and let his mouth slip out an obligatory “sure” for confirmation before shoving his chair out and turning to the door.

The world still remained in slow motion, even as his feet paced briskly out of the room. He zeroed in on the exit, letting tunnel vision block out all of the whispers of his classmates.

His stomach churned once more as he hurried himself out of the room…the surreal lance of Fenton’s gaze still burying into his back all the while.

…

A sigh of deep relief pressed out of his lungs as soon as he turned the corner outside his classroom. Now, there were shields of solid wood and drywall between him and Fenton’s haunted eyes. He made his way down the corridor and pressed open the door to the boy’s bathroom with his shoulder, bursting into a dead collection of empty cubicles.

…no one’s here, great.

Yanking the door of a cubicle at the back of the room shut behind him, he sat on the bowl and steeled his breath to calm his somersaulting insides. Knuckles clenched onto the legs of his jeans until they turned white.

…There was no way he was making it up again. That had to be real—

NO! No, don’t think about that! It doesn’t matter, I don’t fucking care! He’s gone…that’s all that matters!

His mind, still dizzying from the encounter inside, threw all questions out of his mind with a burning desperation. He didn’t care what, why or how. All he cared about was that, now, he was out.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but a deep, primitive instinct knew he didn’t want to leave. Compared to the eerie silence of the crowded classroom, the hollow absence of sound on the warm beige tiles felt like a sweet relief. The yellow glow of the sun streamed in through the windows above the cubicles, spraying the room with a gentle warmth that melted the frost of his numb skin. An occasional, soft plop echoed in a semi-regular rhythm from a dripping tap and rolled into one of the sinks on the other side of the cubicle door. Gradually, as minutes wore on, his mind climbed back into his body, and corrupted time began to return to normal.

The well-needed silence broke with the echoing thud of the door, and a rapid-fire blast of seething mutters in a familiar voice. Another chill only Dash could feel spread through the air.

Dash’s mind exploded into another panic.

…Oh shit, come on! Use a different bathroom!

The muffled speech increased rapidly in volume, but hardly in clarity—syllables came out muddled in the hissing of half-open lips and clenched teeth. His body stiffened on hair-raised trigger instinct.

Scarlet sneakers slapped across tiles; every step seemed to cause the soft colours to deaden in his vision like the dreaded eyes he had seen in the classroom, as if sucking the very life out of the room. Seconds slowed to an agonising crawl as the footsteps crescendo’d; a pair of slacks-covered legs made their way past their first stall, then the second... Dash’s pulse began to escalate, fields of goosebumps prickling up his arms he raised his legs off the floor and he desperately crossed his fingers…

The idea of trying to start a conversation with someone using the restroom seemed farfetched and ludicrous, even for a freak…but this mind emptied all of its thoughts into a void at the idea of having to deal with a confrontation, and he clung like a dying man to the rays of salvation above the stall to keep the insidious chill at bay.

The steps reached the third stall, then the fourth…

Just leave…!

…

The muttering stopped.

“Hey…! Who’s in here?”

Dash’s heart dropped. Fuck his luck.

He pressed his lips together and clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle his forceful breaths. He stared back up at sunlight in the window.

…Finally, the flash of red stopped in the gap under Dash’s door.

A torturous, dense fog of silence befell the bathroom, ruining the atmosphere that he had so frantically craved. There was no way he didn’t know who was in here—this was the closest bathroom to their English classroom, and he’d seen Dash leave.

…After a lingering pause and a muffled curse, the sneakers pivoted back two stalls over and Dash heard the tell-tale click of a stall lock. A last-minute plan flashed into Dash’s mind.

This is it!

His muscles shot to attention. His stomach flipped as he precariously carried out the operation of silently returning his feet to the floor. He leaned an ear to the side of his stall, keenly scanning for the sound of any ruffling clothes or flipping of the toilet seat. The agonising silence at him like a wave of decay after seconds of nothing crawled by. He stood up, pressed the flush and unlocked his stall.

(”Weak bladder”, his ass, a snarky voice in his head piped up faintly after a shaky sigh, what the hell does he even do in here?!)

Trying to keep his alert, rushing legs on slower reins, he strolled up to the basin and washed his hands briskly for a few seconds. He ignored the dryer and paper towel in favour of quick flick, and shuffled hurriedly to the door…

—the dreaded click, and a thud.

“I’d really stay here, if I were you.”

Dash’s whole body went stiff as a board. That dreaded chill stripped him of his last vestiges of warmth as it drilled into his shoulders.  His eyes darted to the red trim of that t-shirt to compromise with his neck’s desperate beg not to turn around. He paused briefly to compose his shaky voice, and growled.

“What the hell do you think you know?”

In the top of his vision, he caught Fenton’s mouth curling downwards into a firm frown.

“…look, don’t ask why I know—you probably don’t give a crap…”

His vision stumbled and wandered too far up. He shivered. Those orbs cut through him with a chilling, grim finality that caused his internal organs to plummet—and his frantic hand to make a beeline for the door handle.

“...but it’s a lot safer here—trust me, whatever the hell you do, don’t go outside.”

“SHUT UP! I—”

Unluckily, Dash didn’t get a choice.

The door to the bathroom blasted abruptly back into his face; an overwhelming rush of air sent him sailing backwards and skidding his ass across the tile, mixed with the muffled sound of distant screams; Fenton, with his feather-light constitution, was sent slamming into the back wall.

A shock of adrenaline coursed through Dash’s muscles like lightning, and by the time he’d stumbled to trembling feet, Fenton had already leaped out of the ajar doorway sprayed with battered wood and plaster. Despite his gut’s familiar call of what it already was, and its desperate pleas to stay back, the foolish curiosity in the back of his brain urged him to poke his head out into the corridor.

The thundering blast had blown through the side of the building, tearing through a gaping expanse of drywall at the end of the corridor towards the outside end of the building—where there weren’t any classrooms. The air swirled with choking swarms of plaster dust, and tainted whitish sunlight from the outside world flooded in through a hole large enough to fit a pickup truck.

A sickly green, misshapen skull peered into the impromptu entrance—bizarrely, vaguely protruding outwards with the snout of a canine, but twisted at its tip like a raptor’s beak. Four beady, dark, soulless eyes zeroed in on the numerous young forms, stringy ectoplasmic sinew stretching across its bony jaw like glowing elastic as it opened into a raucous screech—more of a roar, actually…predatory and triumphant.

Dash’s entire world paused.

The semi-lifeless hallway burst into panicked frenzy; students who poked their heads out of their classrooms let loose bloodcurdling screams and the corridor lingerers scattered in blind terror. Through ears stuffed with cotton buds, a distant echo of the voice from the bathroom called his name, and Dash’s chest froze over.

He wasn’t sure which he was scared of anymore.

His head whipped towards the dreaded classmate, and the alien firmness in Fenton’s eyes sent his heart plummeting down his throat. The coward who’d usually always have been in hiding by the time a ghost attacked crushed yet another feeble mask in his fists, standing firm in the corridor as the monster let out another guttural screech. That mouth so used to petering out pathetic sarcastic remarks as he was shoved in his locker slammed into the jock with all the hesitance of a charging train.

“MOVE, NOW!”

…something glinted in Fenton’s eyes...

Dash forgot how to breathe.

…was that green?!

“The hell are you doing, you idiot?! RUN!”

Fenton’s hand slammed into his back like a charging truck and he bolted.

The monster raised a grotesque, hooked claw at Dash and a brutal swing sailed over his head—what could’ve been a deadly bullseye if his clumsy legs hadn’t sent him almost tumbling over after the rough shove. His legs caught him blindly before he could think, and he was off. The greys of lockers and the white of undamaged walls blurred together into a sea of worthless noise in his peripheral vision. Dash’s heart drove a whip into his burning legs and his shoes pounded into the floor…but they paled as muffled taps in comparison to the ground-shaking charge of the ghost—abomination behind him. All sound faded away behind the thick rush of blood in his ears; all his vision honed in on, his desperate lifeline, was the tell-tale bend of the end of the corridor…

A bright green burst in the sea of metal to Dash’ right, leaving a half-molten mass in its wake.

His heaving chest didn’t have the time to scream.

An approaching, infuriated screech and racket of heavy thuds closed in on him and clawed at his bones. The corner rushed up to greet him, A new series of doors replaced the damaged line-up from the other corridor, where a loud crash echoed not far on his heels…but he didn’t dare look back. Part of him wondered what the hell had happened to Fenton, but it lost out to the half too desperate for his own life to care.

…another brutal slam, a pained screech, lockers crunching as they buckled, another blast and a deep skid across the floor like a boulder dragged across sandpaper.

His gaze darted across the locked and unused classroom doors. Just as a small sob welled up in the back of his throat, a door at the end of the corridor reeled his eyes in—the handle twisted downward, the gap in the doorway slightly ajar…the homeroom teacher had apparently been careless enough to not lock up before first period.

His chest sailed in delirious relief.

Yes! Oh, thank FUCK!

A wall of air whipped at his face with a careless skid and the revenge of inertia. He flung the door open and tumbled inside, before ungracefully slamming it shut behind him. His fingers fumbled with the lock switch next to the inside handle, and his shaking body collapsed back against the wood.

Okay…it’s okay…it’s okay…I’m alive, I’m alive…

A horrific pit sank in his stomach as the distant noises reached a peak and turned down his hallway.

…shit!

A precarious glance out of the slitted glass window on top of the door showed him an empty white corner…until another green blast shot into the plaster, and a mess of gnarled approximations of crustaceous legs clambered onto the ceiling—one…then two, three…four…five…what sort of fucking ghost was this?!

Black beads and a not-beak twisted around the distant corner. They gazed into the distance and locked onto his eye level.

His heart leapt into oblivion.

Dash gasped and dropped back to the floor. Time stopped once more; his tether to reality snapped with a violent twang and his lungs didn’t know when they started eating themselves from the inside out, but his limbs knew what they had to do—his legs scrambled him under a desk away from the doorway and his hands clamped shut over the wheezing breaths pouring from his mouth. In a last, desperate moment, he seized control of his diaphragm from the autopilot and froze his chest.

Dead silence.

The seconds ticked on in an agonising crawl, his ribs tanked a rapid pummelling trying to contain his out of control heart and his lungs burned…but he didn’t dare breathe, not make a sound.

He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to rid his mind of the horrific inky abyss that stared into him.

Please…

He hoped and prayed, wetness gushing down the back of his throat.

…go away…go away…turn around…

The silence sank to rock bottom—he wasn’t sure if all the commotion had ended, or if his mind was losing its grip on reality…

I don’t want to die—

CRASH!

A wretched crack into wood and Dash’s world went black.

…

He awoke to a fuzzy thud in his head and high-pitched ringing torturing his eardrums. His eyes rolled around, dizzily in their sockets, his vision swimming in a tumble dryer and refusing to find and anchor point. Deep, faded, distant twangs thumped into his back, and a distant buzz unfurled in his throat as a cracked groan shot up through his skull. A shaky hand reached from somewhere (his own?) to feebly support his forehead; somewhere in his vicinity, his legs struggled to scrape through a sea of jagged wood and metal. He blinked away some of the grogginess, and a sea of brown and white gradually sharpened into something clearer.

Empty patches had been burned into the plaster and blackboard, singed with what was probably ectoplasm. The teacher’s desk was a pile of splinters and the students’ desks and chairs tumbled into a haphazard pile that wouldn’t look out of place in news footage he’d seen of tornadoes.

He poured all of the remains of his strength into the mass of wood on top of him, throwing a desk off of his back. He got up on all fours, limbs trembling and exhausted by an infinite weight, as he craned his aching neck up to check the back corner.

A massive green eldritch horror reared up at a glowing black-and-white jumpsuit buzzing around it in mid-air. Dash’s heart sailed.

…Oh, Phantom! Thank god!

The ghost boy sailed erratically around each deadly thrust and swipe, and charged an ectoblast back at the monstrosity.

It’s okay, Dash went limp with relief, he’s here…Phantom’s here…I’m not going to die…!

…

…but in the bare few seconds that the lithe figure stopped post-attack, Dash’s eyes wandered to his hero’s face, and his head swam.

Freckled features faded under a sea of dirty scratches and grazes, oozing green the way the ones all over his jumpsuit didn’t. Something uneasy and familiar tinged in him at the way those thick ebony brows furrowed under snowy bangs and acid-green eyes narrowed in strained concentration. Despite their supernatural glow, they seemed blunted—as if something dull lurked underneath their once-strong surface and drained all the life out of the colour…

…something, even without the dark circles underneath sporadically twinging eyelids…that seemed tired.

…A spiny tail reared out of the tangled furniture.

No!

His mouth opened to scream for the ghost kid, but it fell on deaf ears.

A brutal swing slammed the young hero straight into the floor with a sickening crack.

Dash’s relief nosedived into horror. The wretched limb curled around the thin frame it had pinned, lifted it and threw it into the wall, leaving the limp form hanging feebly by the cracked edges of the new hole.

His distant awareness picked up the vague moment his lips clamped around a desperate plea that never saw the light of day. Oh, god. This was it. A wobble bubbled in the back of a throat, waiting for its moment to burst into a cascade of terrified sobs.

A pained groan crackled weakly out of Phantom’s chest, and a feeble shift of his limbs caused plaster underneath him to crumble. Strange, bright rings washed over Phantom’s form as he fell from his ragged perch, taking the flickering glow and blackness of the jumpsuit with them.

His brain crashed. His mouth, now loosened up enough to speak, could only malfunction in empty stutters…

A very different figure lay in Phantom’s place.

…How?!

Shining white boots disappeared in favour of worn, red sneakers.

…but...it couldn’t be!

A very familiar t-shirt and jeans replaced the sleek jumpsuit.

…it was impossible!

Snowy hair darkened into jet-black, and even though those eyelids lay half-shut, a faded voice in Dash’s jettisoned mind told him he knew what he’d see if they were fully open. In an ill-timed moment of sick clarity, his mind regurgitated the image of those tired, but sharp sapphires shooting into his soul.

I’m not scared of you anymore.

…and, Dash sure as hell knew why—whatever this was…however it happened…he had a lot worse to be afraid of.

That glowing, bony maw gaped down at the duo from above; soulless black beads narrowed in satisfied triumph.

Dash’s limbs shivered violently, yet his muscles froze solid against his brain’s desperate pleas to move.

It was over. He was going to die…that was it. Just gone…over…never to wake up. Everything was going to end…at age fifteen.

His only hope was down, the freak…his hero… struggled out a cough, sluggishly orienting his head no more than a few scant inches. The creature screeched victoriously; coal-black orbs narrowed hungrily as a glowing, grotesque digit reared sharply back above its fallen opponent…

A wretched burst of pain burst through the sea of quicksand in Dash’s head.

Whether it was fear, despair, shock, shame…he didn’t know.

His legs bolted forward before he could think. The thickened air sailed past him in an instant; the ghost boy’s tiny human form slammed into his arms and a brutal pain tore across his side.

A distant scream tore from underneath him.

“DASH!”

[gloriousmonsters]

honestly re ‘reading’ tgcf (jamie reading choice parts aloud in sequence as we both make commentary) has just convinced me further of my ‘he xuan’s revenge was kind of thrown together at the last minute’ theory (which i will be taking no criticisms on i’m not tagging this i just had the urge to write out my semiserious thoughts in a post. we good? okay)

because like. taking sqx to his tourist trap hometown to look at a cool spookyday parade that tells his backstory is inspired!

(it got a bit ruined by fucking xie lian who is now always around for some reason (seriously xl is ALWAYS showing up again during the black water arc and i honestly don’t blame hx for bopping him once. hua cheng you shouldn’t have punched him into the ground for that he DESERVED that one) but ANYWAY)

and then we go to the pavilion where sqx ascended. nice, nice. and tell him the truth...... uh........ somehow..... look, I’ll trust it was cool and effective due to how it wound up with sqx screaming in horror and all. sexy, inspired. and shi wudu’s locked him up! I fully believe that he xuan’s plan at this point looked something like

rescue sqx like a total badass, take him to nice quiet honeymoon cottage in the place none of the three tumors will go, maybe leave him there while you go kill shi wudu? like, SURELY he’ll get over it at this point. maybe even

if things seem good reveal yourself and then hold hands with sqx and maybe kill shi wudu TOGETHER?? but let’s not aim too high this is a stretch goal

but like, clearly he hates his brother now! this is fantastic! everything’s gonna go great revenge is awesome

but Then. sqx goes! to help! his shitty brother again! COMPLETELY DERAILING phase 2. you rented that honeymoon cottage for nothing. fuck this

but fine. okay. you can pivot. you can change up the plan you spent like 10 years coming up with. yes it wasn’t a very detailed plan but like, you have a lot going on. spying and sinking ships, etc, and sometimes you forget you actually have to decide on what you want to do for revenge, but WHATEVER. you drag everyone into your turf (surf?). you split up the group. you have a palace with shi qingxuan’s name on it and a prison with shi wudu’s. yes shi qingxuan has to have a brief time out in the jail first but that’s what you get for siding with shi wudu and insulting your shovel. anyway! draw up the distance shortening array, drop shi qingxuan in a nice palace room, now you can go hunt shi wudu for sport.

shi qingxuan leaves the room. you forgot he can do that

well you know, maybe you should figure out something else to do with him! you’re still very pissed that he sided with his horrible no-good brother, after all. of course you’d still rather stab yourself than so much as scratch him but it’s whatever.

shi wudu somehow figured out you’re sketch?

shi qingxuan is standing with his brother again and acting REALLY weird in general

you are having a very bad mental health day at this point

...you know what, fuck this, let’s ALL go to the cave where i’ve currently stashed my family’s urns, it’s as good a showdown place as any!

grab some of those haunted house actors you hired and tell them to babble and scamper and caress shi qingxuan a little bit but nothing below the belt or you Will kill them

(the ~crazy gross people~ hordes are deeply unfortunate and i will mentally rewrite them as i choose ok)

now you can at least force Shi Wudu to bow and apologize but honestly you’re not having that much fun at this point

Listen: the ‘ooh swap your brother’s fate with one of my curated weirdos’ thing makes WAY more sense to me if you assume... it was never something he xuan intended to happen. like, seriously, the process was something shi wudu did from heaven, quite probably with Ling Wen’s assistance. how’s he xuan gonna make him go through with it if he lets him go enough to do it in the first place? (for my sanity i assume that if sw wasn’t having his own mental breakdown he’d also have been like ‘wait’). but the thing is! he xuan does not want that to happen! i fully believe he’s lying through his teeth with both options, because he demonstrably wanted shi qingxuan to side with him (’I gave you chances!’) so like. here’s what the options actually are

shi wudu (bastard; incapable of finer feeling) shows his true evil colors and condemns his brother to have a horrible fate! by agreeing to swap his brother’s fate when his life was threatened, he’s shown that he clearly didn’t do it for sqx’s sake in the first place. sqx is shocked, realizes his brother is Evil, he and hx hold hands??? maybe we can get some use out of that honeymoon cottage after all

yeah we don’t think this one will work but it’d be nice to see sqx kill sw. sigh. obviously we’re not going to leave him alone afterward, though, it’s his first murder, he’ll be vulnerable and in need of comfort!

ALSO ACCEPTABLE: sqx goes ‘pls he-xiong spare my brother and i’ll do anything to pay for his crimes 🥺🥺 ANYTHING’ and then you can break out the villainous but oddly compelling offer of marriage

but instead the shi brothers just start CRYING all over each other and acting like they actually care about each other?? (with sqx specifically saying that only they care for each other and nobody else cares for either of them? OUCH) and despite ample opportunities sqx is barely trying to appeal to your relationship (you’re best friends! you even admitted it as the ~Reverend~ in that restaurant oh wait shit did you curse yourself a little bit) and not coming up with Any tearful but attractive offers of atonement. come the FUCK on

then shi wudu snaps and things kind of go to hell

yes this revenge is not very satisfying at this point but fuck him for pointing that out

and after hx gets mad enough to rip off sw’s head, we have... just a super awkward, not-a-bang-but-a-whimper finish. he takes sqx somewhere offscreen, and eventually dumps him half-heartedly in a big city to be a beggar or whatever

and genuinely I think a lot of the weird gaps and awkward joins and weak finishes of certain plots in this book are, doylistically, just... the product of tgcf being a WAY huger and more ambitious book than even mdzs, there’s bound to be more flaws, but watsonianly. hx’s plan for revenge, at the time he kicked it off, didn’t include sqx, up until the end he’s still giving sqx (confusing, unadvertised) chances to earn his mercy, and i think him dumping sqx and staying at an awkward distance from him afterward has less to do with revenge and vaguely promising he’d leave sqx alone if certain conditions were filled and more to do with him just not knowing what to do at that point.

he doesn’t want to hurt sqx (much) but after losing his temper and ripping off sw’s head in front of him sqx was just going limp, if he xuan kept him was he just going to keep being suicidal on him? can’t kill him can’t keep him prisoner don’t want to directly hurt him but you’re still mad at him ok i guess drop him in a homeless camp and stalk him from afar for a while. write an AITA post on reddit and then delete it. shi wudu died laughing and the cute one you wanted to keep and maybe learn to call you your actual name is severely depressed and terrified of you now. revenge sucks

[stars-falling]

angel in disguise (elriel)

summary: azriel is having a terrible time but an angel disguised in a pink coat and yellow welly boots saves the day.

prompt: a pair of glasses held together by tape, a missing phone and a small, mean dog.

word count: 4.9k

note: i wrote this last year and only just edited it... i have nothing to say for myself. sorry for not uploading for so long, motivation has been a real struggle for me recently but i'm writing more these days, so hopefully i can upload more this year! also, thank you so so much for 1000 followers, it means so much to me that so many people enjoy my content! i'll be hosting a 1k celebration soon.

hope you enjoy!

lily <3

read here on ao3 // masterlist

********************************

Today was a horrible day. During his 26 years of living, today would surely make it into Azriel’s top 10 worst moments compilation, the one that seemed to replay every time he closed his eyes to sleep.

In the scheme of things, the day had started well. Even though he was working on a Saturday, he hadn’t yet found a reason to complain. Sure, he had forgotten to get new contact lenses, but he had slipped on his glasses and called it a day. His alarm had gone off at exactly the correct time. His walk to work was peaceful. And he had remembered all the notes he needed to write the article he was currently working on. But, it quickly went downhill from there.

He knew that being a writer for a popular magazine would be difficult. He’d known from the moment he’d chosen to major in journalism that there would never be an easy day, but coming into work to find his desk laden down with four new assignments, three requests for a meeting and two phone numbers to call was excessive. Still, he had struggled on, rushing from meeting to meeting, phone call to phone call before he was finally able to collapse at his desk in time to start work on the four new articles he'd been given. So yes, it hadn’t been an easy day but it hadn’t been the worst. That was until his boss had called him into his office to tell him that the deadline for both his original and new articles had been moved up. Then the moment he returned to his desk, his old shitty laptop decided to blue screen. All his progress was lost. He had even less time to complete the articles than before, let alone rewrite them from scratch.

Azriel was a stoic man, he rarely let anything show, but at that moment he felt like bursting into tears. He glanced up at the clock. It was 5:45 and he still had 15 minutes before his workday officially ended but he packed up anyway, tossing his now broken laptop, his notes and whatever else (he wasn’t paying attention) into the fancy leather messenger bag his brothers had gotten him as a congratulation for landing the job. They said it made him look professional. He didn’t feel very professional.

He stalked out of the office, discarding the many used paper cups that once contained coffee into a bin and ignored everyone on the way out of the building. Luckily, it was late spring so the daylight remained as he walked down the road. It was cool but not cold enough to warrant a coat, the way he liked it. The streets were surprisingly clear meaning he could wander along, trying to recollect himself after such a hellish day at work. Things were looking up. Then a large drop of rain landed right on his head. He glanced up to see that a dark grey cloud had swept in during his time in the office. He went into his bag, fishing around before producing an old navy umbrella. It didn’t belong to him. Rhys had stolen his the other day and had yet to return it, so he had been forced to search the back of a cupboard for something to bring along with him in case of rain. He was glad to have such forethought as the rain started to pour from the sky. He rushed under a tree and, whilst it did little to stop him from getting wet, it did offer him a little reprieve as he attempted to open his umbrella. He undid the velcro that had been holding it together and pressed the little button that would usually send it flying open. But nothing happened. He pressed it again and again before pushing the material away to see the mechanism had rusted in its years of disuse. He attempted to open it manually but it was jammed and no amount of pushing could force it open. On his last nerve, he swung the umbrella against the tree, hoping it would dislodge whatever had jammed the mechanism. But, the action only caused the umbrella to fall to pieces in his hands. The metal fell to the floor with resounding clinks and the umbrella flopped uselessly open, unable to hold itself up. It was then he saw that the fabric near the top had been ripped to shreds. It was completely destroyed, only held together by the velcro strap, rust and spite.

Azriel sucked in a breath. The rain had only worsened as he stood under the tree trying desperately to get his umbrella to work. Resigning to his fate, Azriel gathered up the remains of the umbrella, dumped them in a bin close to him and stepped out into the rain. Five minutes of walking had rendered him soaked and he was grateful that he had taken meticulous care of his bag over time. At least it had at least some capacity to protect the contents of his bag from water damage. He walked along the road, cold, wet and fed up with life. Water dripped from his hair and down onto his neck, causing chills to skitter up and down his back. The afternoon sun had dimmed to a dull glow barely visible through the clouds and the headlights of cars that came speeding down the road. One of the cars sped through a puddle, sending its contents flying over Azriel and covering him with the dirty brown water that had slowly been collecting along the side of the road. He looked down to find his white shirt stained and water leaking from his bag. He hoped that the plastic folders he usually kept his notes in were doing their job.

He wiped off water from his glasses the best he could using his sodden shirt sleeve but he only succeeded in smearing the droplets further. He placed them back on, uncaring that he could barely see five metres in front of him. He looked up to see a smudged rendition of the park sign. Usually, he loved his walks to and from work. They took him through Velaris park, along the river Sidra and gave him a chance to glimpse into at least one of the crowded marketplaces. It enabled him to see the best of Velaris but right now all he wanted to see was home.

He stepped through the gate to the park and began along the path that would take him to the exit he needed. As he walked, he felt a low pain in his stomach and he realised that whilst he had consumed many cups of coffee, he hadn't eaten. An idea materialised in his mind. Rhysand was currently working from home, he could easily order take out and be at the door ready to collect it before Azriel even got close. Azriel looked around, making sure the path was clear before coming to a halt in the centre. He hunched over his bag as he stuck his hand in to grab his phone. But the pocket he usually stored it in was empty. He continued searching but it was futile. His phone was not in his bag. He patted down his pockets but they were also empty. He cast his mind back to the moment he was packing up. He usually took great care when leaving, as to be sure he had left nothing but today he had been careless. He let out a groan and removed his glasses to rub his eyes as he remembered he had placed the sleek device on the side of his desk. The side of his desk he hadn’t bothered to check when he had packed away his belongings.

He was reaching up to place his glasses back onto his face when they slipped out of his grasp. The rainwater had caused them to become slick in his hands and his frozen fingers couldn't maintain his grip. Startled, he stepped forward. An action followed by a sickening crunch. He looked down to see that his glasses had snapped in two at the bridge. Rain dripped down his face, merging with the tears that had started to leak from his eyes. He tried so damn hard all the time. He worked his ass off, rarely taking holidays. He volunteered when he had time. He donated to charities, he was always polite and he even helped old ladies cross the damned road. Yet all the good he tried to put out into the universe seemed to be rejected. Instead, he was stuck out in a rainstorm with a broken umbrella, glasses and laptop, a thousand and one deadlines hanging over his head and a very bad case of misfortune. He bent down to scoop out the two halves of the glasses and wandered over to the bench nearest to him. He sat down, uncaring about the water that had pooled on the painted wood and soaked his trousers further. He tucked his bag under where he sat in an attempt to protect it from the rain and leant forward, his elbows on his knees so he could rest his face in his palms. The rain continued to pour and Azriel could feel where the cold began to pierce his skin and sink deep within his bones. He sat like that for a while.

The soft sound of claws clicking against pavement stirred him from his stupor. He glanced up to see a small chihuahua approaching him. It ambled up to him without a care for the world around it and sniffed his leg. Azriel held out a hand for it to examine and watched in wonder as it seemed to rest its tiny head in his hand. It was warm and Azriel ran a tentative finger against its cheek. The demeanour of the dog changed immediately. It morphed from the curious being that approached him into an angry hell beast in less than a second. It let out a loud growl and nipped at his hand, biting down hard. Azriel jerked away, letting out various curses all the while. The beast had let go of his hand but it stood before him, barking aggressively, as Azriel rubbed the injured spot on his hand.

“Princess!”

A silvery shout rang out across the park although it was quickly muffled by the rain. A woman came into view. Although she was slightly blurry due to the downpour and his lack of glasses, he could make out her short flowery dress and matching pink raincoat and umbrella. She seemed to be about his age, maybe a couple of years younger, and was rapidly approaching him with a stern look on her face. The combination of her warm brown eyes, sodden golden hair and the fact that the streetlamps that had just flickered on, illuminating her silhouette, made her look like an angel. An angel in a pair of bright yellow welly boots. Maybe he had died and she was here to lead him to whatever realm lay beyond. Or maybe she was here to fetch her dog, the one that had continued growling at him. That made more sense.

“I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed as she scooped up the dog in front of him with one hand. “She is never normally like this! At least she’s never been like this before. She’s not mine but I walk her sometimes.”

She continued to ramble, cheeks pink from the cold.

“It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

She stopped and looked at him, taking him in for the first time. He was probably a sorry sight with saturated stained clothes and broken glasses in his hands.

“Um, are you okay?”

He held up half of the glasses to her.

“Tough day.”

She grimaced before saying, “I can see that. What happened?”

He didn’t want to get into the details so he simply replied, “I dropped them and then stepped on them out of shock.”

She placed the dog back onto the ground, angling it away from him so it didn’t attack him again. She sat down beside him without regard for the wet bench, tied Princess’s lead to the armrest before holding the umbrella over him (which brushed his head due to her being shorter than him) and holding her hand out. He raised an eyebrow.

“Hand me your glasses,” she said impatiently.

So, he did. He gently placed the two halves of his glasses onto her open palm and she passed the umbrella to him to hold over them. She reached into her bag, which he hadn't realised she’d been carrying.

“My sister injured her knee running the other day so I bought some sports tape for her earlier. I can use it to fix your glasses.”

She pulled the tape from her bag along with tiny scissors that looked to be part of a manicure set. She set about cutting and wrapping as he diligently held the umbrella over their heads. Princess had curled up beneath the bench and was busy gnawing on a stick she had found. After several minutes she held up her finished product. The bridge had been wrapped in several layers of skin-coloured tape and whilst the two halves seemed slightly wonky, it would do. She took the small piece of fabric (likely used to clean her phone) that she had been using to dry the glasses and wiped away water from the bridge of his nose before placing his temporarily fixed glasses back on his face. The tape made them sit lopsided but it was enough. She beamed at him as she took in her work.

“Thank you.” He breathed out. “Really, I can’t thank you enough. Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

She tilted her head to the side as she looked at him.

“Have you heard of the Flower and Fawn?”

He looked at her in confusion.

“The cafe in Velaris?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s my cafe! I want you to come back with me and I can make some cookies and tea for us! That’s if you want to, of course.” At that, she smiled at him shyly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re having a terrible day. I found you soaked from the rain with broken glasses, after all. I want to help cheer you up!”

He smiled at her before replying, “You’re an angel.”

She shook her head firmly.

“No, I’m just a decent person.” She twisted round to untie Princess’s leash from the bench before turning back to him. “So, would you like to come?”

He considered his options. He could go home and cry in the confines of his room whilst his brothers bug him about various things, or he could follow this beautiful stranger back to her house. She could be a murderer for all he knew, and he was falling right into her trap. But could his day really get any worse?

“Yeah.” He replied. “I’d love to.”

-

Despite the umbrella, they were still thoroughly drenched by the time they had dropped off Princess at her owners and arrived at the little cafe. Azriel had walked past it several times before, its baby-pink facade, fancy golden lettering and flowers catching his eye every time. Instead of going to enter the bustling cafe, she walked up to the door adjacent to it. As she produced a key to unlock the door she told him, “I live in the apartment above the cafe with my roommate. You can borrow some of his clothes if you want to shower. I’m not working today but I can raid the kitchen for ingredients.”

Azriel looked down at his clothes as she pushed the door open and began to walk up the stairs. His stained shirt had become almost see-through from the wet and his trousers dripped with every movement. Every time he took a step, a small squelching noise sounded due to the water flooding his shoes and socks. Yeah, he might take her up on the offer. He followed her inside cautiously, aware of how much water dripped from him. She turned back from where she was halfway up the stairs.

“Don’t worry about getting water everywhere. My sister once managed to spill a whole bucket of red paint over the apartment and down the stairs. We had to replace the carpets.”

He let out a laugh as he closed the door behind him and began to ascend the stairs. He entered her apartment behind her. It was a small open plan area with the kitchen, dining area and living room all in one. He spied a door in the living room area to his right, likely leading to bedrooms and bathrooms. It was nicely decorated, houseplants and pictures seemed to litter the space along with books and piles of papers. He followed her into the kitchen and placed his bag on the marble island at the centre. She had set about filling the silver kettle when she spun around suddenly.

“I’ve just realised I never introduced myself! How rude of me. I’m Elain.”

Elain, he thought to himself, what a pretty name. He smiled at her before answering, “Azriel. My name’s Azriel.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Azriel.” She placed the kettle on its base and pressed the button before continuing, “What else happened today then, or was it the getting caught in the rain without an umbrella and breaking your glasses that made it a bad day?”

He contemplated the fact that Elain was a near stranger, despite the brief conversation they had had about themselves on the way back to her apartment. He decided to tell her anyway.

“Tough day at work, I suppose. I was given four new assignments today along with extra meetings and calls. All my deadlines, both previous and new, got moved up and then my laptop blue screened, losing all my work.”

She frowned at him, sympathy filling her eyes.

“Oh my god! That’s so horrible. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. And I thought I had bad days sometimes.” She paused as she opened a cupboard. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please. I’ll have it black.”

She nodded in confirmation before pulling out a cafetière.

“My roommate will be home soon. He works in IT so he could take a look at your computer if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.” She said, waving him off.

She pushed down the plunger on the cafetière before pouring out the contents into a mug. He took it gratefully and took a long sip. Warmth spread throughout his entire body and he held the mug tightly.

“Thank you.”

Elain just smiled at him in return before taking a sip of her drink. They stood in silence for several minutes, using their hot drinks to bring some heat back into their bodies. Elain pushed off from the counter she was leaning against, holding up her finger to signal she’d return in a moment. Azriel took it as a chance to place down his cup and finally check his bag for water damage. He undid the clasp and glanced inside. Luckily, the plastic folders he had placed his notes in had just about held up. Only the edges of the sheets were soggy. His computer was slightly damp but mainly the water hadn’t soaked through. He let out a sigh of relief. At least one thing hadn’t gone wrong today. He was pulled from his examination by the sound of Elain’s footsteps as she returned from wherever she had disappeared to. He looked up to see her holding a bundle of clothing in her arms which she proceeded to place on the counter in front of him.

“You can borrow these if you want to change or shower. I don’t think it’s good for you to remain in your clothes, you’ll catch a cold. My roommate is a bit shorter than you but they should fit.”

He pulled them towards him gratefully.

“A shower might be good.”

She gestured for him to follow her through the door he had noted earlier. He was correct in his assumption that it led to the rest of her apartment. She showed him to the bathroom and ran him through how the shower worked.

When she was done, she walked away before turning back to say, “I’m going to head down to the kitchens in Flower and Fawn to grab some ingredients. You can put your clothes in that bag there.” She gestured to a small plastic bag on the counter that he previously hadn’t noticed.

“Thank you.” He told her, the sincerity in it making her blush.

“It’s fine, really. I just want you to be okay. Have a nice shower!” At that, she spun around and walked out of the hall. He closed the bathroom door and set about stripping his soaking clothes from his body before stepping into the warm shower. His day was starting to look up.

Ten minutes later, he found himself in a warm black t-shirt and sweatpants that were slightly too small for him. He stepped out of the bathroom with his sodden clothes in one hand and his shoes dangling from the other. He returned to the kitchen, settling the bag next to his leather one and placing his shoes on the radiator to dry. He turned around to find a familiar yet shocked face staring at him from the kitchen table.

“Lucien?”

The red-headed man nodded uncertainly. Lucien Vanserra worked in the IT department at the same magazine Azriel worked for. They were friendly, often having interesting conversations when they bumped into each other in the break room but, other than that, they rarely seemed to cross each other's paths. Until now, that was.

“Azriel? What are you doing here?” Lucien gave him a cursory once over. “In my clothes, no less.”

It took less than a second for it to click.

“You’re the roommate.”

Lucien sent him an even more confused expression.

“You know Elain?”

“I do. Well, I met her today. She found me soaked in the park having a rough time and invited me back to cheer me up.”

Lucien laughed, shaking his head all the while.

“That’s such an Elain thing to do. I worry she’s going to bring home a weirdo one day. You’re close but you don’t quite count.”

Azriel rolled his eyes before replying, “She’s done this before?”

“Not quite this but she’s always trying to help people she meets. I once found her looking after three dogs and two cats because somebody she had met needed to go somewhere overnight and had no one to look after their pets.”

“That’s so nice of her.”

Lucien smiled softly to himself, pride shining in his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s an angel.”

The sound of the door opening startled them out of their conversation. Elain barged in, laden down with a basket of ingredients. She smiled as she saw Lucien and it widened when she saw Azriel next to the kitchen island.

“Azriel, this is Lucien, my roommate.”

He nodded. “We work together actually.”

She beamed at him.

“Perfect,” she said. “That means Lucien would be happy to help fix your laptop.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow at Elain but she ignored him as she set about finding different utensils in preparation for her baking.

“Would I now?”

She turned around with a determined look on her face. She pushed past Azriel to retrieve his laptop and placed it down in front of him.

“Yes. You would. Chop chop, Luci, we don’t have all day.”

She turned back to the kitchen where she resumed her bustling. Azriel sent an apologetic look towards where Lucien sat booting up his laptop.

“You don’t have to.” He told him but Elain spun around to point a whisk at Lucien threateningly.

“Yes, he does. He owes me.”

“I have a date in an hour!” Lucien protested.

“And?” Questioned Elain. “You’ve fixed my computer in ten minutes. You should get going if you don’t want to be late.”

Lucien sighed and Azriel could only shrug in defeat before joining Elain where she stood in front of the counter. She turned to look up at him and for the first time, Azriel realised how much shorter she was than him.

“You want to help?” She asked.

He nodded and suddenly found himself piled with different tools and instructions.

Forty minutes and many mixing bowls later, two trays of freshly baked cookies sat steaming in front of him and Elain, who stared down at them triumphantly. A clatter from behind them caused them to look up. Lucien stood behind the island, Azriel’s laptop and a memory stick before him.

“Bad news, your computer is dead. Good news, I’ve managed to salvage most of your work.” He gestured to the memory stick in front of him. “I’m sure you can get the company to buy you a new laptop if you try hard enough.”

Azriel rushed forward, grasping the memory stick in his hand.

“Thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said waving Azriel off before moving around the counter to kiss Elain on the cheek. “I have a date to get to. Don’t pick up any more strays whilst I’m gone.”

Elain only smiled at him sweetly, mischief twinkling in her eye. “Say hi to Jurian and Vassa for me!”

“I will.” Said Lucien who rolled his eyes before turning to look at Azriel. “It was nice to see you. Keep an eye on her for me, will you?”

“I will. See you on Monday.” He replied.

Elain’s attention turned back to him as soon as the door swung shut behind Lucien. She cast him an excited look.

“Wanna try one?”

He nodded enthusiastically in reply and picked up the one closest to him. The cookie seemed to melt in his mouth, the warmth from the oven lending itself to the chewiness. It was heavenly and he told her such.

Her cheeks darkened before replying, “It wasn’t just me. You helped too.”

“You told me what to do and I followed the instructions. These are all down to you, Elain.”

“I’m glad you like them. They’re somewhat of a staple in the cafe.”

They lapsed in gentle conversation as they ate. He learnt about her family, her hobbies, her passions and he told her the same in return. It was almost 8 o’clock by the time he glanced up at the clock, he hadn’t realised how late it had gotten. He stood up from where he had been sitting after they had migrated from the kitchen to the dining table.

“I should get going. My brothers are probably wondering where I am.”

Elain stood too and they both moved towards the kitchen where Azriel began to pack up his belongings.

“Thank you for having me.” He told her. “It’s been wonderful.”

She smiled at him, soft and welcoming. She looked beautiful under the warm lights.

“I’m glad I could help. It’s been wonderful having you here! Would you like to take some cookies with you?”

He nodded and she wandered over to the cupboard to retrieve a tupperware that she began to pile cookies into. She walked over to where he stood putting his now slightly less wet shoes on by the door. He took the box gratefully.

“Take this,” she told him as she handed him the bright pink umbrella she had been using earlier. “I don’t want you to get soaked on your way home.”

He thanked her before he walked out the door and down the stairs.

“I can return the clothes, box and umbrella to Lucien when I see him on Monday.”

He watched her hesitate as she followed him down.

“You could always stop by the cafe if you want to return them. I work Mondays to Fridays. That is... if you want to.”

He turned to see her blushing profusely. Azriel felt his cheeks warm as he smiled at her softly and replied, “That would be nice.”

He reached the bottom of the steps and pushed open the door. The rain had continued to pour all the while, never slowing. He stepped out and opened the umbrella.

“I’ll see you soon then.”

“See you soon.” She replied, waving at him as he walked away.

He didn’t look back until he heard the door shut quietly behind him. Smiling to himself, he started his walk home. It wasn’t until he had reached the park that he noticed a small note taped to the top of the tupperware Elain had given him. Under the light of the streetlamp, he could just about make out her curly handwriting.

I hope you’re feeling better now! Please feel free to stop by at the cafe when you’re available. Don’t be a stranger!

~ Elain

XXXXX-XXX-XXX

Azriel’s heart stuttered at the sight of the number scrawled beneath her name. He’d definitely be texting it when he finally found his phone. As he wandered through the park, past the bench he had sat on after giving up earlier, he reflected on the day's event. It had been a terrible start but it had ended in something much much better. You know what, Azriel thought to himself as the rain poured down around him and struck the pink umbrella he was holding above his head. Today has been a good day.

********************************

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Behave

Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word count: ~ 2 600 Genre: Fluff / Smut Summary: Gerard starts bothering (y/n) while they're working, so (y/n) comes up with a deal so they'll be able to work in peace. Kind of content: Loving / Gentle / Light Dirty Talk / Oral / Toys

Requested by @angie-migel

I scratch the side of my neck with a sigh and furrow my eyebrows. What the fuck did Mikey mean when writing this? Sometimes I wish the guys’ handwriting was easier to understand since it feels like I’m decoding a newfound language whenever I’m the one rewriting, clearly, the notes we take during songwriting.

Focusing on doing it would be somewhat easier without the stare burning into the side of my head, so I sigh as I place the pen down on the dining table and turn to look at Gerard, who sits all the way into the living room, on the corner of the couch – he doesn’t even bother looking away.

“What?”

“What?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at me like I just attacked him personally, and rolls his eyes after I narrow my eyes at him.

“What do you want?” I adjust myself on the chair. “You never stare at me for nothing.”

“I want nothing.” Gerard shrugs with a smile tugging on his lips as he bats his eyelashes.

I observe him for a moment longer and, concluding he won’t do anything at least for now, I go back to translating all the notes, which is more of a procrastination since there are more important things I still need to do.

My peace only lasts, however, until Gerard is suddenly next to me and climbing on my lap before I can even ask him something. A sigh escapes my lips as I let him find a comfortable position, sitting across my thighs and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He only smiles, looking at the papers and completely ignoring the glare I send him.

“Gerard, honey, you know I have things to do.” I tap his thigh lightly.

“Well, I don’t.” He leans his head against mine, seeming a bit too comfortable.

“And?”

“And I am bored!” He plays lightly with my hair and, as much as he is adorable and I’d like to go do something with him right now, I really don’t want to be torn between band practice and work during the week – I really hope we grow famous soon because working and taking care of a band at the same time can be a really difficult task.

I shake my head to myself, patting his back this time, and try to go back to working, but it seems like being next to me watching me work isn’t enough to end Gerard’s boredom.

“Stop,” I mumble, pushing his hand away from the papers, which has us in a small and useless wrestling match for almost a minute. “Fuck.” I lean back on the chair with a groan and look at him, silently asking if he’s serious and being mad at that cute face is practically impossible.

Gerard chuckles and presses a kiss to my cheek, clearly having fun with all of it.

“Gerard,” I mumble, about to tell him to stop again when I think about something. Maybe it’ll have him distracted for a good time and also help me, so…

My hand rests on Gerard’s thigh as I go back to writing, but as soon as he threatens to do something that’ll potentially disturb me, I let my hand trail up to his crotch and palm him through his jeans – he gasps at the same moment with a startled jump.

“(Y/n)!” A bright red tone takes over his cheeks as he looks at me with wide eyes.

“What?” I chuckle, raising an eyebrow. He never says the safeword nor demonstrates discomfort, so I only play along.

Gerard snorts and is quiet again, for longer this time, but I’m traveling my hand to his crotch again at the moment he moves to do something and I don’t remove it so quickly this time, continuing to palm him despite his protests. A miserable groan escapes his lips with all the squirming he starts doing and it’s difficult to know whether he’s trying to move away from my touch or pushing himself into it.

“(Y/n),” he breathes, hand tight on my shoulder. “Please, please–”

“Please what?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Uh, touch me or something!” Gerard says almost incoherently with all the embarrassment.

I can’t help but to chuckle at how desperate he is, only stopping after he playfully hits my shoulder. “Okay, okay! But–” I look at him, “–you’re leaving me in peace after we finish!”

“No!”

“Then you’re going away right now!” I try to push him off my lap, not putting real effort into it, hence I need to stifle my chuckles once he squeals, clinging onto me as if something terrible would happen in case he let go.

“Okay,” Gerard groans poutily, “fine, then,” he breathes, jeans already becoming clearly uncomfortable.

“Well, let’s go!” I slap his thigh lightly. “I have something in mind for you!”

Despite the whole sulkiness from earlier, Gerard seems extremely excited at the moment he’s kneeling down on the bed and sitting back down on his legs, hands closed tightly as they rest on his thighs.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell him on my way over to the dresser.

Gerard pretty much watches me the whole time with curious eyes while doing what I told him to and he’s already mostly hard when I am moving back to him. He presses his lips together in a smile, taking a few glances down in useless attempts of seeing what I’m holding behind my back. He gasps lightly, however, once I put the anal beads and lube on the mattress in front of him. I mostly want him to have fun by himself right now rather than with me.

“Oh,” he mumbles, cheeks bright red. “It’s, um, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I move closer and press a kiss to his cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Why? Do you want to do something else? It’s alright if you do.”

“No, I was just commenting!” He pecks my lips. “It’s more than fine!” He gives me this look from under his eyelashes and pulls me for a proper kiss with a hand on the side of my neck, kissing me eagerly.

I kiss Gerard back, deepening the kiss, and take his bottom lip between my teeth at some point to nibble down on it, which Gerard seems to appreciate a lot even if he’s quickly leaning his head back and I immediately start to nibble down on his neck, letting my hand fall to around his cock. His throat tenses up with a gasp as I start to slowly pump him, feeling him twitch whilst getting harder.

“On your back,” I mumble against his neck and pull away to get the beads again, nudging his legs apart once he’s done as told. “Good boy!” My words make him flush and his eyes avert to the ceiling.

The lube pours down on my hand as I squeeze the bottle lightly and close it again, only lubing up one of my fingers for now. His hole flutters once I start tracing it, running my finger along the rim of muscles gently before I’m pushing in, feeling him clench around me at the same time he moans quietly, moaning louder once I find his prostate, thrusting his hips forward and letting out quiet little whines coming with how I press down into his prostate.

“Right,” I breathe, pulling away much to Gerard’s displeasure, but I don’t give him much attention, focusing on pouring more lube on my hand so I can coat the beads with it this time.

“You can tell me whenever you want to stop,” I tell him, “alright? Just don’t forget the safeword.”

“Alright,” he hums softly with a nod. I nudge on his legs and he brings his knees up to make it easier for me to have access to his entrance.

“Stop squirming around,” I slap his thigh. He can’t stop trying to see what I’ll do.

He whines as he throws his head back, but does stop after all. “Then don’t take so long!”

Gerard’s protests prove themselves useless once he moans – a grin tugs on my lips while I watch him, trailing the beads along his perineum, and it always surprises me how sensitive he can be. His thighs threaten to close with it, but I don’t allow them to, sitting between his legs.

“There you go,” I mumble, averting my gaze to my hands.

The first bead goes in easily, but his hole needs to stretch around them each time more since the beads slowly grow bigger in size, never reaching anything unbearable.

“How does that feel?” I ask after having pushed a few in, I’m not sure of how many.

“Good,” he breathes, shifting his hips.

I nod and push in a couple more, making him gasp softly this time, giving me a notion of how far they must’ve gone in, which is my cue to start pulling them out slowly, holding onto his hip whilst watching him. He opens his mouth around silent moans before there’s actually any sound escaping his lips, all of them being little whines and breathy moans.

My lips are pressed to Gerard’s chest when I’m pushing the beads in again after having pulled almost all of them out, making him moan softly with the nibbles and sucks down on his chest. I take one of his nipples into my mouth, running my tongue around it and nibbling on the skin around it. The room is quickly filled with moans, growing louder and turning into whines whenever I’m hitting a specific spot inside him or giving him a harder nibble.

“Fuck,” he mumbles weakly and he’s melting when I’m once again pulling the beads out, slowly and taking my time, feeling every little push of muscles whenever a bead is being pulled out.

“Y’know, I called you a good boy earlier,” I say as I finish pulling the beads out until one of the smaller ones. “But you’re absolutely not one.” My tongue clicks in disappointment and I shake my head, having a hand pressed onto the inside of his thigh to hold it open, and continue to push the beads in again. “Disturbing me while I was doing my work, honey? Such bad behavior!”

“(Y/–(Y/n),” he cries softly, “please, t–touch me–”

“Aw, you think you deserve it?” I raise an eyebrow, exhaling sharply as I pull the beads in a steady pace instead of a slow and paused one – he whines, arching his back. “I’ve got lots of work to do aside from the band, you knew it and still tried to take my attention away! You weren’t good at all!”

“‘M sorry,” Gerard moans, arching his back as I’m pulling the beads in again.

“You don’t sound very sorry to me.” I press my lips together, glaring.

“I-I’m so sorry, (y/n), I didn’t mean to, I–” he moans, “I just wanted to have fun, th-there was nothing to do and– and–” he gasps, words turning into nonsense once mixed with whines and gasps.

“Do you even deserve to cum?” I ask mostly to myself, never giving Gerard an opportunity to answer as I move my hand from his thigh to his cock to pump it, not being so slow this time. He miserably moans in response, as if he was trying to say something, but no word ever leaves his lips properly. His knuckles are even white around the sheets already as he clutches onto them, bucking his hips forward.

I push all of the beads in again before I’m letting go of him and ignore his protests as I take a hold of his hips and focus on pressing kisses all over his chest.

“No!” Gerard groans. “Touch me, please, continue with it!”

“I don’t think you’re in position to demand anything here, are you?” I raise an eyebrow at him and the sudden attention makes him shut up at the same moment, pressing his lips together as his cheeks flush more.

Gerard doesn’t say a word anymore and I start pressing kisses down his chest, nibbling down on the skin and making sure I’ll leave a few marks before.

Honestly, I wouldn’t usually do this and would just have him cumming already, but I really want to wear him out to make sure he won’t be on my lap and messing with my papers at the moment I’m sitting on the chair again. Hence, I make sure to linger enough in each part of his skin, nibbling down on his chest and going down pressing kisses to his tummy until my lips are on the inside of his thigh and he’s trying to push his hips up once more, but I don’t say anything this time.

I suck a dark spot into the thin skin on the inside of his thigh, having fun watching Gerard squirm and plead for me to touch him properly until I’m pulling myself up again.

Gerard’s chest rises and falls with the heavy breathes as he looks at me through half lidded eyes, seeming tired but with this want still in his eyes. A thin sheet of sweat already coats his skin, having some of his hair strands glued to his forehead and the strength to hold onto the blankets is probably gone by now.

“Look at you,” I say softly, “don’t even look like someone who was pleading for my attention and throwing a tantrum on my lap some time ago,” I tease, making him groan in frustration.

“Fuck off!” He pouts.

“Oh, what was that?” I smirk wide.

“No, ‘m sorry, just let me cum, please?” He starts squirming around again, whining. “I promised it already that I won't bother you, I– please, just let me cum!”

“Well,” I hum, shrugging, “since you promised…”

I lean down and hold onto the base of Gerard’s cock before taking it into my mouth, having him moaning at the same moment since I start bobbing my head right away. He curses, hands soon on the back of my head to push me down against him, but his grip starts to falter once I’m pulling onto the beads again, pushing them out in a slow yet steady motion.

“(Y/n)– (Y/n), I’m gonna–” He isn’t even able to finish his sentence and, as I’m taking in my mouth as much of him as I’m able to, he cums with a cry, pushing his hips up at the same time his hands are pressing me down. A loud moan escapes his lips as his thighs quiver and I try to swallow what I can, which doesn’t demonstrate to be everything as I feel the mix of cum and spit running down the corners of my mouth.

Gerard starts to come down from his high with quiet whining, probably mumbling something that I’m not able to understand as I lick him clean before pulling away, and finish pulling the rest of the beads out, snatching a loud moan from him.

“Oh, my…” Gerard mumbles, looking into the nothing as I pull away, smiling.

“Felt good?” I press a kiss to his tummy, tapping his thigh, and I stand up to go to the bathroom so I can leave the beads there to clean them later and put them away, and also clean my face.

“Yeah,” he calls weakly, which doesn’t fail in making the pride swell in my chest.

“Great, then!” I walk back into the bedroom with a grin. “Do you want me to help you clean yourself?” I ask and he shakes his head no, blinking slowly. “Okay. Call me if you need anything, I’m just going back to finishing the papers.” I’m about to walk out when I pause and look back. “Also, another tantrum and I’m making you touch yourself in front of me, heard it?”

___________________

Part 2

[falcqns]

Hey, thanks again for the last request, I loved it and good luck with the semester! 🤗

I was thinking about one gif with Henry where he is in the car with mobile phone in hand, imagine sending him nudes and his reaction when he gets home. 😃❤💌

Lingerie

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: grumpy!henry, smut, swearing, bodily fluids, unprotected sex (don’t whisk it, wrap your biscuit), slight dirty talk

A/N: I apologize for this taking so long! I had it close to complete and my laptop broke. By the time I had enough money to have it looked it, the draft was gone :( But, I hope you enjoy this rewrite!

Henry had been on set entirely too long, he decided.

He had been there since 5 am, and it was nearing 8 pm now, and all he wanted to do was be at home with you more than anything. He had just spent the last two weeks at home with you, and he wasn’t enjoying that he had to be separated from you. Everyone else on set had noticed he was grumpy when he came in this morning, but they didn’t say anything. It was more internalized grumpiness, and he wasn’t causing any problems, so they let him be.

But throughout the day, his attitude had grown worse. He refused to speak unless he had to, and his eye roll was very close to becoming permanent. Joey had mentioned to Anya and Freya that he was beginning to act like Walter, which they thought was hilarious,but chose (wisely) to not bring up to him.

He had finally finished filming for the day, and stormed past his co stars with a determined look on his face. He didn’t say anything to anyone, and slammed his trailer door shut behind him so hard the trailer shook. He stripped off his clothes and placed the back into the wardrobe bag, before looking at himself in the mirror and realizing he still had his wig on. He was most definitely not in the mood to go to Hair and Makeup, and resolved to just take the damn thing off at home. He’d done it before so it wasn’t too big of a deal. He packed up his things, and almost walked out of the trailer without his phone. He grabbed it, and unlocked it to see the messages he’d received from you throughout the day.

He groaned when he saw the pictures you had sent him. You were wearing a pair of baby pink lingerie. The bottoms were a solid pink with frills on the sides where your hips would be, and it was decorated with strawberries. The top was translucent, and was also decorated with strawberries. You were also sitting in various positions, each one become more provocative than the rest. Henry made sure he had everything he needed, and then headed out.

A few people looked at him as he left, but he ignored them. He hopped in his car, and didn’t waste any time in leaving. He sped home as fast as he could, without getting pulled over. He could see that the kitchen light was still on, so he knew you were likely still awake. He got out of the car the second it turned off, and all but ran in the house. He could hear music playing, and found you in the kitchen, doing the dishes and dancing. You had on an oversized sweater and sweatpants that he suspected belonged to him, and your hair was in messy atop your head.

He dropped his phone and keys onto the table, which alert you to his presence. You turned and smiled at him from the sink.

“Hi honey, how way filming?” You asked, but confusion washed over your features as Henry stormed over to you. He lifted you up, and sat you on the counter next to the sink before he slammed his lips to yours. He pulled your sweater off, and to his delight, you still had on the lingerie set.

“Fuck,” He moaned, and buried his face into your breasts. “Missed you,” He began pressing wet kissed to your chest, and you threw your head back in pleasure at the feel of his stubble scratching your skin. His hands ran down your sides, and undid the knot at the front of your sweatpants, and tugged them off. He removed his hands from you for a moment, to unbuckle his pants, and pull his hard cock out, and pump it a few times while making eye contact with you.

You watched as he pulled your underwear to the side, and moaned at the sight of your wet folds. You went to giggle, but it was caught in your throat when Henry pushed inside you. He dropped his forehead to yours as he waited for you to adjust, and he tried not to cum at the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him.

“Y-You can move Henry,” You whispered, and his hands slid up your back and cradled your head against his chest, as he began to thrust in and out of you. You pulled his shirt down slightly to expose his collarbone, to where you attached your mouth, and began sucking hickeys into his soft skin. He moaned in response, and bit down on your shoulder before letting out a loud moan, his hips moving even quicker.

His hand fisted in your hair and pulled it away from his chest. He pressed another hard kiss to your lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, and the two of you continued to make out as you felt Henry’s hips get sloppier with their thrusts, signifying that he was close.

Your hands drifted up his back as well, and gripped his hair in your hands as hi left hand came down your body, and in between your legs to thumb at your clit. You pulled away from his kiss for air, and rested your forehead on his.

“I’m gonna cum,” You moaned out, and Henry nodded in acknowledgement.

“Do it.” He grunted, rubbing your clit in fast circles with his thumb. “Cum on my cock. Do it. Make a mess.” He encouraged, and you let go, unable to hold back the pressure in your lower abdomen any longer. You came, and threw your head back in a silent scream. Henry continued to thrust, his high drawing near as well, watching as you gushed around his cock, and your entire body trembled. You clenched down on him moments later, and he was pushed over the edge as well. He stilled inside you, and moaned as his load filled you up, some of it seeping out and mixing with your release.

His head dropped to your shoulder, and he pressed kisses to your skin. He felt your breathing return to normal after a few minutes, and he lifted his head. “Did I hurt you?” He asked, but you shook your head.

“I’m fine baby. Perfect actually.” You said with a blissed out smile on your face, and Henry picked you up. he walked to wards the stairs, but stopped at the bottom to press another kiss to your lips.

“Come to set with me tomorrow?” He asked, and you nodded. “definitely.”

He chuckled, and began the journey to the bathroom with the intent to run you a bath. “Good. I can’t be separated from you any longer.”

[writingsforanyone]

Forgotten Fling 5/7

pairing: Y/N x Brett Talbot

warnings: blood, guns

A/N: here’s part 5! the last two parts will be coming out soon, so be on the lookout! i have also decided that i’m going to go back to part 1 and rewrite a few parts of it. i realized that there’s probably a few things that i need to clarify, and that it would best be done in part one. i’ll make a note on here whenever it’s updated!

+++++++++++++

You knew tonight was a full moon. Not only a full moon, but a supermoon. You had told Brett earlier in the day that he could call you if he needed anything, or if he just needed you to be there. He didn’t like to call you on nights like these, in the rare case that he wolfed out and hurt you. You had found out you were his anchor a while ago, right around the time you found out about the supernatural in the first place. Brett was very good at keeping himself in control, but every werewolf had their slips, and it didn’t help that today was a supermoon. That meant that Brett would become stronger, angrier, and have a much harder time controlling himself. 

The sun was setting, and you were in your room watching TV. You looked out your window at the moon that was already very visible in the salmon skyline. You were torn with yourself on whether or not you should go to Brett’s. He hadn’t called or texted you, but you knew he probably wouldn’t unless it was an emergency. You decided to send a simple text and ask how he was doing. When you still hadn’t gotten a text back 30 minutes later, you were growing very worried. As you were getting up to start putting your shoes on, you got a text from Lori.

Are you busy? 

Not at all, what’s up?

It’s Brett. The supermoon is effecting him really bad and he won’t calm down. He told me not to text you but I didn’t know what else to do

Hey, don’t worry. I’m on my way

Thank you. We’re in the shed out back

You finally put your shoes on and grabbed your stuff, running out of your house and into your car. You sped to Brett’s house, where he lived with Lori, Satomi, and a few other members of Satomi’s pack. When you got there, you headed around the house to the shed that was in the backyard. Satomi had the shed specifically for this reason, in case a member of her pack had trouble on a full moon. You walked in, not bothering to knock, and were shocked at what you saw. Lori was crouched in a corner, looking scared to death, Satomi had a cut across her cheek that was in the process of healing, and in the middle of the room was Brett, halfway chained to a pole. He had broken one of his arms out of the chains, and was pulling at the other restraint on his other arm. His claws, fangs, and eyes were all out and every prominent, but he wasn’t completely wolfed out, which you took as a good sign. You hesitantly made your way to the middle of the room, calling Brett’s name. At the sound of your voice, he looked up, and growled,

“Y/N? You shouldn’t be here.”

“When do I ever listen to what you tell me what to do?” you responded lightly, knowing that talking to him normally would help him focus on you.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled again. 

“And I don’t want you to hurt anyone else,” you said. At that, he pulled at the restraints again, growling. You slowly walked over to Satomi and asked her quietly,

“What’s wrong with him? He’s never been this bad.”

“I can’t say. I haven’t seen him struggle this much in a long time,” she responded.

“What can I do?” you asked.

“Get him to focus on you. It will make him human,” she told you. You nodded and slowly made your way over to Brett, standing just far enough to where he couldn’t reach you.

“Brett?” you said, “Can I ask you something?”

“What?” he said, louder than you were expecting.

“Why didn’t you want me to come out here tonight?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, not as loudly as he had been a few seconds ago.

“That’s not the reason. I know you won’t hurt me. What’s the real reason?” you said. He seemed to hesitate as he thought about his answer, which was what you wanted him to do. You wanted him to think more on his answer instead of thinking about hurting you. 

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he finally said, no longer growling and sounding like his normal self. You heart broke slightly at his answer, but you tried not to let it show. You walked closer to him and placed your hands on his cheeks. You brushed some of the hair that had fallen onto his eyes away as you said,

“Sweetheart, I will never be scared of you. I know that you’re doing your best to stay in control, and if you were to hurt me, it wouldn’t be on purpose. You hear me? I will never be scared of you Brett.” At your words, you saw Brett’s fangs slowly retreat, and looked down to see his claws had also gone back to normal. His eyes were still yellow, but you knew he was calming down and regaining control. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him slowly, and he kissed back immediately. When you pulled away, you saw that his yellow eyes were gone, and his beautiful green eyes sat in their place.

“Feel better?” you asked. Brett nodded, before you heard Satomi clear her throat behind you. You had almost forgotten that the Alpha and Lori were in the room because of how quiet they had been. 

“The connection between the two of you is remarkable,” Satomi said. You felt your cheeks flush, as did Brett’s, and then Satomi motioned for you to untie the remaining restraint that held Brett’s arm. When he was free, he walked over to Satomi and placed his hand on her cheek, where he had previously scratched her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said to her. She placed her hand over his and responded,

“I healed, and you’re in control now. That’s what matters.” Brett nodded before turning around, looking for Lori. She had stood up and had made her way to stand next to you. Brett moved to give his little sister a hug, and she hugged him tight. Finally, he turned to you and wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug. You reached up and snaked your arms around his neck, holding him tight.

“Thank you,” he whispered to you. You nodded in the crook of his neck before pulling away, the four of your walking out of the shed and towards the house. You stayed the night with Brett that night, holding him until he fell asleep, not wanting to be anywhere else.

You don’t know why you had been thinking about your most recent dream all day, but the reoccurring thought hadn’t left your mind since you woke up. The school day was now over, and you were trying to get some studying done in the library before the charity game tonight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything except last night’s dream. After your last encounter at Sinema, you didn’t know where you and Brett stood. To make matters even more complicated, you knew Brett was going to be at the school tonight, considering that Beacon Hills was playing Devenford Prep. The pack was trying to get the game canceled, because of The Beast that had been lurking around recently. No one wanted to take the risk of playing the game and putting the entire town in danger. You knew even if the game was canceled, you would probably still end up seeing Brett tonight, but you had bigger problems to worry about than that right now.

“Y/N,” you heard from behind you. You turned to see Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Liam walking into the library, heading straight for your table. 

“Hey guys. What’s the plan for tonight?” you said as they all sat down around you. 

“Well, Mason said it’s not just a transmitted frequency. It’s high powered. Like it has to be a really strong signal,” Liam said.

“And that’s causing it to shift?” Lydia asked.

“No. I don’t think it’s just that. Last night, Argent said it’s getting smarter. What if the Dread Doctors are trying to make the Beast grow faster?” Scott said.

“With frequencies?” Stiles asked, to which Scott replied with,

“No, by shifting. The frequency is just the trigger. The important part is when it shifts into the werewolf.”

“Like Peter,” Lydia said.

“Right. Yeah, when Peter was an Alpha, he got stronger every full moon. Eventually, the burns healed and he was back to normal,” Scott confirmed. That’s when you butted in and said,

“So the Dread Doctors don’t want to wait for the full moon.”

“They want the Beast to be as strong as possible, as fast as possible.”

“Because of Parrish,” Liam said.

“So if this is happening tonight, what are we gonna do?” Lydia asked.

“Uh, we’ve got one clue to go on,” Stiles started as he pulled something out of his backpack,

“This came from the hospital. Whoever’s lurking inside the Beast is wearing a size 10 of indeterminate make.” Everyone looked down at the picture of the bloody shoe print before you said,

“Indeterminate?”

“Means it’s a partial print. Basically it was all we were able to get considering all the fire, blood, and carnage.” Stiles responded.

“How many size 10s are there?” Scott asked.

“Only one with Parrish’s blood on the sole,” Stiles said.

“So are we going to try to get the game cancelled?” Liam asked. 

“No, no. we’re going to play, but we’re just going to hope really hard that it doesn’t turn into a blood-soaked massacre,” Stiles answered, albeit sarcastically.

"Okay but, aren’t we kind of missing out a chance to catch this thing? We don’t have the ‘who,’ but we have the ‘where’ and the ‘when,’” Liam asked. Everyone paused and looked around at each other. Liam made a good point, but was it worth the risk? Scott seemed to be thinking the same thing, and said,

“There’s too many people.”

“And we still don’t actually know if it’s going to happen. It just might end up being a regular lacrosse game. It’s possible, right?” you asked, Lydia nodding in agreement.

“Well, uh, it’s possible,” Stiles said.

“So we’re still getting the game canceled?” Liam asked

“We’re getting the game cancelled,” Scott said confirming his question.

The five of you got up and headed out of the library in your own separate directions. You and Liam headed for your car so you could run to your house for a little bit. Liam needed to get his lacrosse gear and you wanted to change, and on the way home, Liam asked a weird question,

“So, are you going to talk to Brett tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going to talk to him? You two seemed like you were getting along better a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t know Liam. I have no idea where we stand right now, I won’t even know what to say,” you said.

“Why don’t you start with ‘Hi’?” Liam asked.

“Since when are you the one giving me advice?” you said laughing. Liam laughed with you before saying,

“I’m serious. Talk to him.”

“Maybe.”

______________

A few hours later, you pulled back into the Beacon Hills High parking lot and parked in one of the only available spots left. Almost the entire town was here, and that made you nervous for what might happen. You and Liam got out and headed towards the field, where you saw Scott and Stiles getting out of the Jeep. You jogged over to met them, and saw that they were turned around looking at something in the distance. When you looked over, you saw that they were looking at the Devenford Prep charter bus, and more specifically, the player getting off of it. Brett. All of a sudden, the stadium lights all came on one by one, lighting up the entire field as if the sun was out and shining. You also saw the news vans scattered around the field. You made your way towards the school with the boys, to the classroom where you were meeting the others. When you arrived, you saw Kira, Malia, Corey, and Mason all sitting around a lab table in the chemistry classroom. Scott immediately jumped into the plan for the night and said,

“Mason, you know your part.”

“Corey and I break into the Devenford Bus and search their shoes,” he said nodding.

“I take out the TV vans,” Malia chimed in. 

“Right before the whistle, Coach forfeits the game,” Stiles said.

“The rest of us are looking for a size 10 with a bloody sole,” you said. 

“Just out of curiosity, what if it doesn’t work? What if we have to go up against this thing? I mean I hate to bring up back memories, but Scott’s still healing from what Theo did to him” Malia asked. 

“No he’s not,” Kira said.

“She’s right,” Scott confirmed. He pulled up his jersey to reveal a completely healed torso, with no signs that he had ever even been touched.

“It happened the night we got Lydia out of Eichen House. I healed. When we were all together again; when we were a pack.”

“The Beast doesn’t have a pack,” Liam said. 

“Not like us,” Scott said, looking around at everyone at the table, 

“We can do this guys. No one dies tonight.” You all nodded in agreement before heading out of the room to the field. Malia made her way towards the news vans, Mason and Corey headed towards the Devenford bus, and the rest of you walked towards the field. As you were able to head up the bleachers to find a seat, Scott stopped you.

“I talked to Brett earlier. He said Lori can help you search the bleachers for shoes.”

“Oh okay. You were with him?” you asked.

“Yeah only for a second when they got here. Lori should be somewhere around here,” Scott said.

“I’ll find her,” you said before making your way up the bleachers. You were able to get a better view of the field, and you saw the young werewolf walking around the field towards your side of the bleachers. You made your way down and over to her, where she greeted you with a hug. The two of you made small talk and caught up as you made your way back to the bleachers. Just as you were about to sit down, Stiles came running up to you and said,

“Coach isn’t forfeiting the game.”

“What?” you and Lori said at the same time. Stiles had run off by then, leaving you and Lori confused. You heard the whistle blow and turned your attention to the field where both teams were running out, and saw Brett and Scott squat in the middle of the field. Just like that, the game started, and you and Lori were able to get away without alerting anyone’s attention. You started walking under the bleachers searching all of the shoes for even the smallest speck of blood, and after 20 minutes of searching, nothing. Knowing that there was nothing else the two of you could do for the time being, you both sat back down for the third time that night and watched the game. 

You watched Kira score a goal, taking down half of the Devenford team in her path. She was playing very rough, and you were growing worried about what was going on. A few plays later, you watched Brett tackle her, and she fell to the ground. Immediately she was back on her feet, and swung her lacrosse stick, striking Brett on the head. You gasped as you shot down the bleachers. You watched his helmet fly off his head as he fell to the ground. You knew you couldn’t go onto the field, but you watched from the sidelines as Kira was kicked out of the game, and Liam helped Brett to his feet. Kira stormed past you and Lori, and Scott stopped next the two of you. He nodded at Lori and she ran off after Kira, but as you moved to go after her, Scott stopped you. 

“Go see Brett,” he said. He knew you wanted to check on him, but you also wanted to make sure Lori didn’t get hurt. You were debating and Scott could tell, which is why he said,

“She can take care of herself. Go see him.”

You nodded before taking off towards the opposite side of the field, where the guest benches and bleachers were. You saw Brett sitting alone on one of the benches, still looking a bit disoriented. As you were walking, Brett turned towards you. You could see a smile spread across his face, which caused a smile to form on yours as well. You sat down next to him and said,

“Why do you always seem to get hurt when I’m around?”

“Maybe so I have an excuse to talk to you,” Brett responded. You laughed lightly before asking,

“How are you feeling?”

“A little hazy, but I’ll be fine,” he answered. You leaned over a little to get a better look at his forehead where he had gotten hit.

“If you weren’t a werewolf, that would leave a nasty bruise,” you said.

“I can already feel it starting to heal, I just hope I can get back in the game.”

“You’re Brett Talbot. I guarantee your back in the game in like 5 minutes,” you said to him. You hadn’t realized how close you were to his face, but Brett seemed to have noticed right away. You could have sworn you saw him glance down at your lips, but you might have been imagining things. You involuntarily glanced at his as you were having an internal conflict with yourself. Your head was screaming at you to stop, while your heart was screaming at you to go for it and kiss him. Right when you were about to go with your heart, the Devenford coach called Brett’s name. You snapped back into reality and said,

“I told you,” you whispered as you started to pull away. The two of you stood up as you said, 

“Try not to kill us out there.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Brett said with a chuckle.

“Talbot!” his coach yelled at him; he was clearly growing impatient. Brett grabbed his lacrosse stick and helmet, and started jogging over to the Coach. As you were turning around to head back to the other side of the field, Brett called your name. You turned around and he asked,

“Come see me after the game?”

You smiled and nodded, watching him jog back onto the field, playing as if nothing had ever happened. 

Throughout the rest of the game, you, and the rest of your pack, were growing more and more nervous. The Beast hadn’t shown up and Devenford was close to ending the game, and none of you had any idea what to do. You hadn’t seen Kira or Lori since they both ran off, nor had you seen Corey or Mason, or Malia. Scott had run off, Brett and Liam were getting into it, and Beacon Hills had called a timeout. Eventually, Liam had evened up the score, and the game went into overtime. You were cheering so loud for your little brother that you hadn’t even realized that the news vans had just about exploded from the feed back.  You closed your eyes and winced from the loud noise, and when you opened your eyes, you saw Liam charging at the school busses, and The Beast was flying over the busses right at him.

“NO!” you screamed out. You ran down the bleachers towards your brother, someone hot on your heels. You figured it was probably Hayden, and you realized it was when you both came to a sudden halt. The Beast threw Liam to the ground, and ran towards the bleachers. When you turned back to Liam, there he was, bleeding profusely from what seemed like every inch of his body.

“LIAM!” you and Hayden yelled, running over to him. He was struggling to breathe, and he wasn’t healing, which in turn just made you freak out even more. You saw someone running towards you in your peripheral vision, and when you saw that it was Stiles, you moved to help Liam up. 

“Liam, come on we have to get inside. Can you walk?” you asked. Liam yelped in pain before saying in a strained voice, 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Stiles went around the other side of Liam to help him stand, and Hayden led you all into the school. Everyone from the game was in the process of running into the school, so when you all found the first available classroom, you took it. After knocking off the contents of the desk, you and Stiles laid him down on top of it. Liam kept repeating ‘I’m okay’ and ‘I’m fine’ over and over again, but by the tone of his voice and the blood pooling out of his chest, it was very clear that he was not fine. You moved to peel up his jersey to look at the damage, and at the sight, Stiles gagged.

“Is it that bad?” Liam said, sounding nervous.

“No!” you and Hayden said at the same time, while Stiles went in the opposite direction and said,

“Very.”

“Okay. Okay, what do you guys usually do when this happens?” Hayden asked, not have nearly as much experience with this as the rest of you. 

“Oh, I usually pass out. And I still might do that,” Stiles answered as he started swaying.

“Stiles! Not the time!” you said, grabbing his arms and forcing him up straight.

“Okay, Okay. Scott did this with pain. He could trigger it. Pain makes you human,” Stiles said.

“He’s already in pain,” Hayden said, sounding annoyed.

“Right, okay, but maybe adding a little more could help take away the pain,” Stiles said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Just then, Liam yelled out in agony, not being able to hold it in.

“Take away the pain. Take away the pain,” you mumbled under your breath, before saying out loud,

“Hayden, you’re the only one who can take his pain away,”

“How do I do that?” Hayden said frantically. You didn’t know how to answer that. Both you and Stiles were human, and had no idea what to do in terms of taking someone’s pain.

“Y/N! Did Brett ever take away your pain? How did he do it?” Hayden said, needing an answer fast. You thought about it before saying,

“He would kiss me. He would kiss me and it took the pain away.” As soon as the words left your lips, Hayden kissed Liam, and you saw the vines in her cheeks turn black as the pain moved from Liam’s body into hers. When Liam laid back down, he seemed much more at ease than he was before, and Stiles said,

“Next time I’ll kiss him.”

“Brett,” you whispered to yourself, before it clicked in your head that you hadn’t seen Brett since you left him at the bench.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Where’s Brett?” you said, panicking once more. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, he’s probably in one of the classrooms,” Stiles said, trying to calm you down.

“You don’t know that Stiles,” you said loudly without meaning too. Without thinking, you headed for the door and threw it open, ignoring everyone’s calls for you to stay in the room. You knew it was dangerous to leave the room, but you had to find him. Who knows where he was, or who he was with, but you knew you had to find him. You ran from classroom to classroom, looking inside each of the windows to see if you saw him. You had no idea how many doors you had looked in or hallways you had ran through when you heard a roar coming from the direction of the library. You ran in the opposite direction, down a hallway that you hadn’t checked yet. Finally, you looked into a room and saw a sea of green lacrosse jerseys, and the tall head of blonde hair that belonged to the boy you were looking for. You pulled the door open, which caused everyone in the room to turn towards you looking frightened. When Brett saw that it was you, he ran towards you, and you ran to meet him. You leapt into his arms and he caught you with ease, holding onto you like you were going to disappear into thin air.

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” you whispered into his ear.

“I’m okay. I’m right here,” he whispered back. He set you on your feet before asking,

“How did you know I was in here?”

“I didn’t. I was across the school helping Liam when I realized I didn’t know where you were and I just ran,” you said, seemingly out of breath after running across the entire high school. After saying that, you realized you should probably text Stiles and let him know you were safe. You pulled out your phone and texted him, and almost immediately got a text back, which read

Library

“We need to get to the library. That’s where the Beast is, and that’s where Scott’s going to be,” you spoke lowly, not wanting the rest of his team to hear you.

“It’s not safe. Stay in here. I’ll come back for you,” Brett said

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought if you think I’m staying in here,” you said, and with that, you grabbed Brett’s hand and pulled him out of the door towards the library. You saw Liam, Malia, and to your surprise, Braeden running in the same direction. You met with them in the middle, and Braeden wordlessly reached for her ankle and unstrapped her drop gun. She thrust it in your open hand. Brett squeezed you hand before letting go and running towards the doors, Liam right behind him. The second they saw the Beast, they jumped towards it, striking it in the head, before being thrown to the floor. You, Braeden, and Malia followed suit, you and Braeden aiming anywhere on the Beast’s body, and shooting. After having enough of getting shot, the Beast ran towards the floor-to-ceiling window and jumped through it, leaving everyone in the library out of breath and terrified. Malia and Liam moved to help Scott up, while Braeden stood there and said,

“You didn’t seriously think you were going to have a chance against that thing did you?”

“No,” Scott breathed out, “But I got its scent.” he finished as he ran out of the library with Liam hot on his tail. In the moments that followed, you had given Braeden back her gun, you and Brett had left the library, and the two of you were now walking towards the empty lacrosse field. Brett had left all of his belongings when he ran, and as the two of you were walking he said,

“You didn’t have to walk with me if you didn’t want to you know?”

“Aren’t you the one who asked me to come see you after the game?” you retorted back, making him chuckle. 

“Can I ask you something?” Brett said, to which you nodded, prompting him to continue.

“Why did you come looking for me?”

“I told you, I didn’t know where you were,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t push you further. Wishful thinking.

“I know that, but why did you leave?” he said. You hesitated. Should you tell him you were scared that he was hurt? That you wanted him to be safe? That you were freaking out over the thought of not knowing if he was okay?

“I just- I- I needed to know you were safe okay?” you finally threw out, slightly louder than you had anticipated. You stopped walking and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before starting again.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” You started fast walking towards the bench, when Brett grabbed your hand and spun you around, and said,

“Hey, hey, hey. Slow down. Why are you freaking out? You heartbeat is going like a mile a minute right now.”

You sighed, trying to gather all of your thoughts so you didn’t  say something you regretted. 

“I don’t know,” you finally said, looking up to meet Brett’s eyes for the first time since this conversation started. Brett moved his hand from yours and brought both of his hands to rest on your cheeks, before saying,

“You want to know something? Right before you came through the door of that classroom, I was searching for my phone so I could call someone, anyone, who might have known where you were. The guys kept telling me to calm down, and that you were probably okay, and then you walked through the door.”

“Why didn’t you just call me?” you asked, confused on why he wanted to call your friends, rather than just calling you.

“Someone still has my number blocked,” he said lightly, easing the mood. You let out a breathy laugh, before saying,

“Oh yeah. I wasn’t sure if I should unblock it or not”

“You should. Now come on,” Brett said, moving to grab your hand again and led you to where his bags were. You sat down on the bench while he started gathering his stuff, putting all of it in his bag. He started stripping off his lacrosse gear, leaving him in a tight workout shirt and his uniform shorts. Once he had everything tucked away in his bag, he sat down next to you. The two of you sat there in comfortable silence, until,

“Can I ask you something else?” 

“Sure,” you said, curious as to what else he wanted to know.

“Do you still hate me?” The question took you by surprise, and you contemplated with yourself before saying,

“No. I don’t think I ever hated you.”

“It sure seemed like you did that day you walked away,” he said tentatively, not wanting to start an argument.

“You had just told me I had to chose between you and my little brother. I was mad. I was mad for a long time. But I don’t think I ever actually I hated you. I don’t think I ever could,” you said. You weren’t sure why you were telling him this, but it had to come out at some point, right?

“You know, I tried to stop you from walking away. I wanted to take back everything I said, but it was too late. I tried to call you that night, but I think you had already blocked my number,” he said. You could feel him looking at you, but with the words that were falling from both of your lips, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. You were staring off into the night sky when you said,

“Yeah, I blocked it the second I got home that day. It was easy to do in that moment since I knew I wasn’t going back to Prep, so I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences.”

“You know why I started an argument with Liam when I got off of the bus, that day last year? Because I knew that if you were anywhere around us, you would’ve come to stop it. I wanted to see you. I didn’t want to pick a fight with Liam, I just wanted to see how you would react to seeing me,” Brett let out. For some reason, this made you smile, and you said,

“It just took a lot for you to admit that didn’t it?” Brett let out a breathy laugh and said,

“Even over a year later, you still know me better than anyone else.”

“Yeah, well, there’s some things I could just never forget,” you said, standing up. You knew the Devenford Prep bus would be leaving soon, and it seemed like Brett did too. Brett stood up after you and grabbed his lacrosse bag, before he reached his hand out for yours. You looked at his outstretched hand and back up at him, before biting back a smile and lacing your fingers through his. It wasn’t a new feeling by any means, but a feeling that you hadn’t experienced in quite a while. The two of you started walking towards the parking lot in a comfortable silence, and after a few minutes, Brett spoke up again.

“You know, I never got the chance to apologize. And I mean really apologize for what I did back at Prep. I never meant to make you chose between me and Liam. I was angry and I took it out on you, and I’m so sorry.” 

That was what you had been waiting for. An apology. You knew that you and Brett were in the process of mending your friendship (or whatever it was), but the one thing you wanted was an apology from him before you forgave him. 

“Thank you. That means more than you know. I always wanted to bring it up and ask if you really meant it, but I think I was always too scared to say anything.”

“I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t,” Brett said. By that point, the two of you had reached your car, and you were expecting him to let go of your hand when you stopped walking, but he made no move to pull away. You turned towards him and nodded, before saying softly,

“Apology accepted.”

This brought a smile to Brett’s face, and unbeknownst to you, lifted a huge weight off of his shoulders.

“Promise me that you’ll be safe? I know that with everything going on its hard, but I need you to be okay,” Brett said, slightly pleading with you. There was the ‘promise me’ phrase again, the one that used to be so prominent between the two of you. You nodded and looked up at him, saying,

“I promise. Promise me you’ll stay safe too, and keep Lori safe.” Brett nodded, a small smile playing on his face. All of a sudden, you heard someone yelling from behind you, the sound coming from the direction of the Devenford Prep bus.

“Talbot! Stop playing grabass and let’s go!” You both turned around to see one of Brett’s teammates leaning out of the bus doors. You chuckled and shook your head, before turning back to Brett and asking, 

“They haven’t changed a bit have they?”

“Not at all,” Brett answered. He then let go of your hands and hesitantly moved to wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you. You reached up and brought your arms around his neck, pulling him in the rest of the way. You had missed Brett’s hugs; the way you felt safe in his hold, the way he would lean his head into the crook of your neck, the way he would slightly sway the two of you back and forth, the way he would barely lift you off your feet because of the height difference. Neither of you wanted to let go right away, so neither of you did. You stood there in each other’s embrace for as long as you could. It was your way of conveying all of your emotions to each other, without having to say a word. When you finally started to pull apart, Brett pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling away completely. You felt goosebumps run down your back at the lack of body warmth. You both said your goodbyes, before you watched Brett walk over towards the bus. You weren’t quite ready to get in your car, and it seemed Brett wasn’t quite ready to get on the bus, because you saw him turn towards you one last time, as if to make sure that he hadn’t been dreaming for the last hour. He definitely wasn’t dreaming, because you were right there, smiling back at him as he climbed the steps to the bus. 

When the bus doors finally closed, you got in your car and started the engine. You still weren’t quite ready to pull off, so instead you pulled your phone out. You went to your contacts, and scrolled until you found Brett’s name. You clicked the contact name and proceeded to unblock the number, before sending a short text that read,

hi :) 

You felt content as you put your phone away and pulled out of the Beacon Hills High parking lot.  The long overdue conversation you had just had with Brett put you at ease, and had settled a lot of your worries. However, it also made some new thoughts float around in your mind. It made you wonder if you had made a mistake walking away that day, instead of talking it out. More importantly, it also made you wonder if maybe the feelings you had developed for Brett months ago weren’t as one-sided as you thought they were. Maybe he was just good at hiding them. 

[anika-ann]

Warm Up My Heart

(...So It Never Gets Cold Again)

Type: One-shot to a series (part 1 & part 2),  Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader              Word count: 2500

Summary: Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Boy wants to propose soon… boy slips. You know the drill. In which Tony builds a training super-bot, Steve gets a boo-boo and the rest is history.

Warnings: mild injury and violence, swearing, cheesy af fluff

A/N: There weren’t al that many of you reading this series, but since it’s a rewrite/editing stuff for me (something I have time for), I’m bringing it back! I’ve been neglecting it long enough... 

Series masterlists (aka previous parts) linked above

────── ·❆· ──────  

“Captain America’s been brought to his knees. They found his weak spot and he went down all too easily for the world’s first superhero; literally crumbled on the ground, unable to get back up-“

Steve groaned, miserable and extremely annoyed at the same time, and you chuckled, which earned you a wounded look from the supersoldier.

You retreated from his right foot to muffle the sound escaping your mouth with you palm. You couldn’t help it; as much as you felt sorry for Steve, troubled by the fact he was in pain, you knew it wasn’t serious and Tony’s dramatic commentary was just too hilarious.

“Tony, just leave him be. And stop making me laugh,” you pleaded, suddenly back to seriousness. This was no fun; you did need to concentrate. “I might as well freeze his foot off if you keep distracting me.”

It was the truth; you had spent the past minutes trying to cool down Steve’s ankle, which had been sprained. All three of you were now in one of the training rooms of the compound, you and Steve sitting on a bench, while Tony hovered above you. Steve’s leg was resting over your knees, so you could reduce the swelling before it could fully develop.

The injury was totally Tony’s fault.

Being the generous friend and maniac he was, he had invented a special kind of a training super-bot – which had earned him both sharp glares and amused looks. It wasn’t half bad; it actually was a fair competition for Steve, which was saying something. It probably had something to do with the fact Tony had seen Steve in action more than a few times, learning his fighting style; programming his knowledge into the software of the bot meant one less advantage for Steve. Plus, Tony had used some special enforced material-

-which was exactly the problem. It was enforced; too much. And not enough.

When Steve kicked with his full strength, his foot had just… pretty much stuck in the robot’s torso. He had been lucky it hadn’t torn his flesh off and he had ended up only like this – with sprained ankle and few deep scratches which had already stopped bleeding. Incredibly lucky even considering that his instinct had been to get his foot out immediately, so he could go on with the fight; he hadn’t been exactly gentle and patient with freeing himself. Honestly, you were surprised his limbs were still attached.

Now he couldn’t even put his full weight on his injured leg. At least the robot had helped him hobble to the bench, because between your built and Tony’s willingness to talk being way bigger than his willingness to help with Steve’s weight (muscles were heavy), Steve would be still on the ground. Well, limping uselessly on one foot anyway.

“And get me an elastic bandage. Hush! Go make yourself useful!” you ordered, directing Tony towards the door, motioning with your hand in an ‘off you go’ gesture.

“Cap, your girl is bossy and has no respect for elders,” the billionaire complained, but turned on his heels and headed to get a first aid kit. The bot stood by the end of the bench dutifully, not moving an inch.

“I beg to differ, she treats me just fine,” Steve called out after Tony, winking at you as you brought your hands back.

You focused on tuning your powers to the right temperature, hovering only few inches from his skin. You sighed when the door clicked behind Tony and went back to work.

“You okay?” you whispered, glancing up just for a moment before returning your full attention to his injury.

“I’ve had plenty of worse.”

“That’s neither an answer or comforting, you know.”

“I’m much better now,” he admitted softly and you could hear the tender smile in his voice.

It warmed your heart and filled your chest with pride. You knew he meant it as a compliment; and he was not complimenting your powers, not the tool you had been given, but he was praising you for being so skilful with it.

You managed a tiny smile. “I’m glad.”

Your mind raced as you thought of how you could make it even better. You were no doctor; you barely knew the RICE rule, of which you only had two things covered by now; Elevation and Ice. The third was on its way (hopefully, but one never knew with Tony) and the fourth was… probably out of question, because make Steve Rogers rest was way beyond anyone’s ability. You closed your eyes, focusing on the things you actually could control.

Steve apparently understood your need to concentrate, or had nothing to say, because he didn’t utter a word. But the silence was comfortable, kind even.  You tried to convince yourself his eyes were roaming around the training room; in reality, you were ninety-nine percent sure he was watching you work and despite all the time spent together, all his efforts to chase your insecurities away and proving countless time that he trusted you… you felt a bit nervous.

Too small under his intense gaze, you could tell that hot blood rushed into your cheeks. It was ridiculous. And it probably made Steve’s lips curl up in a grin, because he had mentioned more than once that he found your embarrassment endearing and entirely adorable. He could always tell.

“Marry me,” he pleaded softly and the shock of those two words spoken threw you off so hard your concentration levelled to zero in an instant.

The temperature you had been treating his ankle with so carefully dropped low beyond the desired one as if you flipped a switch.

You felt the burst of energy from your hands more than you heard his pained hiss and you quickly snapped your eyes open, withdrawing your hands in one swift movement.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, staring at his foot with horror, masochistically examining the damage you had done – a frostbite no doubt, because of course you had done some serious damage-

-well… actually you hadn’t, because apparently your reflexes had improved greatly with time, but the skin had definitely less healthy colour than before and-

“Oh Steve, I am so, so sorry, I swear I didn’t meant to-“

“It’s… it’s okay,” he stuttered, sounding more embarrassed than hurting.

You were relieved; then again, when had Steve Rogers ever admitted he was in pain?

You couldn’t find yourself to look up to his face nevertheless, too horrified and scared. What have you done?

Also… what the hell had he just said? You had imagined it, right? He hadn’t… hadn’t…?

“It wasn’t your fault. That’s completely on me. You said Tony not to distract you and… I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have said that.“

You looked up at him, biting your lip, suddenly convinced that he actually had proposed. Just like that. You didn’t give yourself time to let it sink in or to… indulge the feeling. Because he just apologized for saying it. You would bet all your money that he did regret it now, for multiple reasons.

It kinda stung that he had confessed to it out loud, though.

Okay, fuck it, it hurt like hell, because even when you had never talked about it, it burned down your very soul that he… that he would ever regret asking.

He groaned, covering his red face with his palms.

“I---you’re… injured. Probably confused by the product of Tony’s brilliant ideas. It’s okay, let’s just… forget that, okay? We all say strange things when we’re in pain, things we regret-“

You hated that your voice trembled at the last word and Steve’s hands immediately went down, his blue eyes piercing right through yours. He seemed more horrified than you now.

“I’m sorry. That came out completely wrong. All of it. Oh god…. I do regret it, alright? I’m sorry, Snowflake. I really shouldn’t have said that. Not… not like this,” he added gently and your heart positively stopped as his gaze found you, a new twinkle in his irises.

No, there was nothing new in it. You had seen it before, occasionally. In moments that only belonged to you two, when you were alone or it felt like you were alone, the world around disappearing. When you would catch his gaze across the room while laughing with someone else. When you let your powers draw flowers on the windows of the compound, creating winter decorations that were not exactly allowed in the military space.

Admiration. Tenderness. Dedication. Love.

Your lips parted in surprise as he kept observing you, the emotions changing on your face, flashing with realization. Wait. That was… what? Your breath hitched.

Steve gave you a very nervous smile as he lifted his leg from your lap, setting it back on the ground.

“What are you-“ you snapped from your strange trance immediately, wanting to stop him from whatever he was about to do, because you weren’t finished and goddammit, he needed to keep his leg elevated-

-and not to lower himself from the bench on one knee.

Right in front of you.

As if he was proposing.

Like, really proposing.

You watched him with disbelief when he planted himself into the infamous position, injured ankle in an awkward position, and you would swear that he could hear your heartbeat echoing within the walls of the gym. You sure as hell did, your blood pounding in your ears and your head positively spinning.

You simply couldn’t believe your eyes. You were sure your pupils were wide enough to reduce your irises to nothing.

Steve swallowed loudly, looking up at your face from under his eyelashes, his eyes hopeful and wide as well. At this point, you couldn’t breathe, your ribcage way too small for your swelling heart.

This was happening.

Oh shit, this was happening. Steve was… Steve was-

“Snowflake,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotions and something that you would swear was a hint of fear, “you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and despite your powers, your presence-- you are warm like sunshine. I love you. I love you with my whole heart and… please, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

You stared at him, his eyes shining with hope, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you weren’t able to utter a single word and left him waiting for your answer.

You felt like an idiot for leaving him in anticipation and with doubts--- because you loved him. God, you loved this man so much and couldn’t even speak despite being sure with what you wanted to say more than anything.

So you blinked away the solitude tears that gathered in your eyes, because you were a regular sap, and nodded. His face lighted up like Christmas tree – no matter how cliché it sounded, it was the first analogy that came to your mind and it was very true.

Hesitant smile appeared on his lips as he stared at you with same disbelief that must have shown on you own face. “Yeah?”

You chuckled, covering your mouth with your palm before you could let out some very embarrassing sound. You nodded furiously, again and again.

“Yeah,” you breathed out finally and Steve shamelessly grabbed you and pulled you down at him. He fell on his ass, so you both basically crushed into the bench, but you couldn’t help but laugh like a madwoman as he was trying to balance the both of you, you being nestled in his lap all of sudden.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against his own body, immediately freeing your hair from the messy bun you wore – just so he could nuzzle his face in it. You could feel his smile against your cheek and then he placed a quick kiss there, then lower, then on your jaw, and then finally found your lips. He kissed you, letting you taste the delight on his tongue, his breath whispering of gratitude, pleading you to say it again.

“Yes,” you repeated simply and earned another kiss, this time longer, passionate and tender, breath-taking and making you feel like flying.

The butterflies in your stomach flipped their wings like crazy – kissing Steve was always an amazing feeling, but this time… you were kissing Steve, your fiancée. He just proposed, he wanted to marry you and you were about to marry him. Excitement tingled in your fingertips, restless and wonderful and your body melted into his, wishing to just merge into one.

You only realized his body was not exactly okay when he retreated an inch, allowing you both to catch your breath and your brain to reboot. Seeing his twinkling eyes, you swallowed the question about his well-being, simply not having the heart to ruin the unexpected, peculiar and pretty magical moment. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyelids falling shut.

“That... that is not how I was planning on doing this,” he whispered, sounding a bit embarrassed, and the corners of your lips twitched, rising even higher. You hadn’t realized you had automatically started smiling the moment your lips had been freed, but apparently you had.

“Are you saying there was a plan, oh my Star-Spangled Man?” you replied with voice as soft as his, teasing him lightly.

“Uhm… I mean… I was working on it, at least. It involved having the ring actually on me instead of having it lying in our room and all that.”

The ring. The ring that was in your room at the moment. He clearly wasn’t just throwing the words around. He… he actually had been planning a proposal. You heart fluttered at the confession.

“But then Steve Rogers’ impulsiveness got in a way and… here we are,” he revealed sheepishly and you didn’t think you could be more moved.

It wasn’t just him thinking about it – it was him losing it in a moment so ordinary like this as if he couldn’t wait anymore.

“Good. Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

His expression turned curious and a bit confused. “Good?”

“Yeah. It’s Steve Rogers I want to marry after all.”

The most gorgeous smile appeared on his lips and you couldn’t resist – you kissed him again. A silent promise of kissing him every day for the rest of your lives.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Tony Stark was standing behind the transparent door to the gym, facing away from the two of you, but peeking over his shoulder; an equivalent of subtlety. A grin that was not even a little silly played on his lips and he was not tearing up at all.

Who was he kidding, he was really glad he had added the AV system to his super- bot. Because the record of what definitely looked like a bit strange proposal was something he would miss greatly.

He smirked at the kit in his hand, opened the door for a slit, quietly slipped his hand in – completely unnoticed by the oblivious lovebirds – and left the supplies there.

When he closed the door again soundlessly and made his way out of the area, he couldn’t but mutter under his breath.

“About damn time, Rogers.  About damn time.”

────── ·❆· ──────

Next series (Five Times Steve Felt Betrayed and the One Time He Felt like He Was Betraying You)

S.R.masterlist

────── ·❆· ──────  

So, I had my thoughts on some more storyline (sort of) and got to the point where I felt sorry for not coming up with a concrete plan of how a proposal implied in the next story went. I couldn’t resist and had to come up with some, because reasons.

Apparently, I’m a sucker for pain the concept of proposal going way differently than planned...

Thank you for reading... I hope your week started off well!

[god-of-dust]

since i already posted Rising Sun, i thought that it would be interesting to show part of my writing process for it. this is part of the first, unedited draft that i wrote without any finesse and then rewrote completely. notice the “send help” bit XD

He waits until Aang's finished with his mantras before speaking. “Can I have your opinion on something?”

“I'm listening,” Aang says, voice deep and resonant.

“The anniversary of the genocide will be in a few months,” he begins, unsure on how to approach the subject.

Slowly, Aang exhales, rolls his shoulders and neck and opens his eyes to look at Zuko. “Yes.”

“I'd like to make it an official day of remembrance.” He passes a hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts.

“That's... incredibly thoughtful, Zuko. Thank you.”

Zuko scratches at a bit of sealing wax that's stuck to his desk. “The power I have means nothing if I don't use it to right the wrongs that my family has done. To be honest, there's a lot that needs to be mended, especially when it comes to your people, and even for this anniversary I have no idea what to do. What's the appropriate way to do this?”

“In truth, I have no idea either.” Aang briefly clutches his beads. “Now that the war is over, I have more space to think about what happened and how I want to honor my people so that their teachings aren't forgotten, but it's—well, a lot.”

“I was thinking about theatre—a play that tells the real story, what truly happened that day, instead of that bullshit militaristic propaganda we've been fed during the war.” Zuko offers cautiously.

“That could work. Can I think about it some more?”

“Of course you can. But, um, on the topic of propaganda... there's also something else I've been meaning to ask you.”

“There's always something else,” Aang says, and even though his tone is neutral Zuko still flinches. There's unconcealed tiredness in those words, one that Zuko is well-acquainted with; long nights spent wondering if the demands of his title will pile up and pile up until they swallow him whole, followed by long days where he brushes away the bruises under his eyes and puts on his best diplomatic face to attend to those very same demands.

“I'm working with my advisors to completely rewrite the school curriculum. They've been a great help, but for all their genuine interest they've been indoctrinated about Air Nomads as much as anyone else in this nation. I want kids to be taught about your culture, and for that I need you.” Before Aang can reply, Zuko speaks again. “I know that I'm asking too much. I know that this would be yet another responsibility you got saddled with... but you're also the best person possible for this.”

Aang's smile is a wry, bitter thing that makes Zuko's chest ache like a hollowed out tree. “Not the best. The only one.”

“You're not the only one. I could recruit some of the Air Acolytes if you think it's a good idea.”

“No, that wouldn't be enough,” Aang says, shaking his head minutely. “They're passionate scholars, and their presence soothes the part of me that was afraid that any hope for community had been lost. Still... they can never get it completely. There are things that can't be taught, only lived.”

There's nothing that Zuko can reply to that. No words will ever be enough to restore what has been destroyed and taken away from Aang; as much as that wound appears to be scarred and healed, Zuko can see that there's a well of grief that Aang doesn't let anyone get close to.

Some gaps can never be closed, but others can.

He rises from his desk and crosses the distance between them, kneeling before Aang. They're at the same height now, and Zuko gently presses his forehead against Aang's; after a small moment of hesitation, he places a hand against Aang's cheek. This tentative touch is all he has to offer.

“I wish I didn't have to ask this of you,” Zuko murmurs, eyes closing in surrender, thumb stroking soft skin.

They breathe together like this, slipping into a state of shared equilibrium. It doesn't erase the pain, but it makes it bearable. A thing that they both can carry together.

“I'm the last airbender. I won't disrespect my people by running away. Besides, I'm the Avatar, and my voice carries authority that I'm meant to use exactly for reasons such as these.”

Zuko sighs. Outside of the window, where the sky is beginning to darken, a handful of stars begin to emerge from its expanse. “I want more than anything to see you at peace, and yet I find myself burdening you with heavy choices, over and over.”

“Your choices aren't easy either, Zuko.”

“No, they aren't. But then, I'm honor-bound to rule this nation to the best of my abilities, regardless of my wishful thinking about how easier it should be.”

Aang squeezes one of his shoulders, reassuring him with a simple touch.

I know how it feels. You're not alone.

And Aang does understand, better than anyone else. The feeling of suffocation that comes with the high stakes involved in any misstep, the anxiety that has taken permanent residence under Zuko's ribs ever since his coronation. He never speaks about it, not out loud, and he's glad that he doesn't need to.

Aang puts a hand on the back of Zuko's neck, lightly kneading the lingering tension away.

Why is it that Aang makes it easy to accept a touch so loving and tender? He'd struggled to accept his uncle's hugs and comforting pats, feeling unworthy of his freely given affection.

Aang doesn't owe him anything. And yet here Zuko is, unmoving, his own palm still cupping Aang's tranquil face, fingers tracing absent patterns on it. Thoughts slip away, awash by the simplicity of this moment.

"Be here, Zuko. There's a lot we must do, a lot that's been appointed onto us, but now we have this."

"Thank you," Zuko whispers, and he means it.

The pressure of Aang's hand on Zuko grounds him. They breath as one, and for a moment they are one, a single essence.

“The first time I entered the Avatar state I experienced visions of the world that can't be expressed with words,” Aang says. “I saw the oneness of all things. I saw impermanence, the mutable nature of everything. Going back to being myself, with a body, after that... It took a bit of adjusting. Okay, a lot of adjusting.”

“How did you do it?” How can a person contain all that? is what Zuko wishes to ask, though he doesn't quite dare.

“I don't know. It's an apparent contradiction that I have yet to come to terms with. I have a duty as Avatar Aang that I'm meant to uphold, while having witnessed that, ultimately, I have no separate identity at all.” An exhale, long and deep. “Sometimes it feels meaningless. Why bother, why struggle, when we are all one and the same? But it's what we're here to do, what I am here to do.”

“You're the most selfless person I know.” It tumbles out of Zuko's mouth, unfiltered. Aang is... all that.

At Aang's age, Zuko had only cared about firebending forms and maybe his crush on Mai. He'd still hoped for his father's approval. Then there's Aang, a hero, a survivor, who's seen more than any person would be able to bear; the most profound loss, the glory of victory, and the ultimate detachment from it all.

It's impossible that this larger-than-life being can be so unassuming. That he has love for Zuko, so much that his scarred heart can drown in it.

Never has he felt so cherished, with no strings attached, no familial bonds, no hidden treachery glistening behind constructed gestures.

His chest isn't hollow anymore. It feels full, the fuller it's been in a long time, overflowing him. The naked affection he holds for Aang is humbling, devastating.

Aang has the supreme quality of making Zuko feel like he belongs. They belong together, as strange and different as they might be, as conflicted Zuko might feel about it. It doesn't matter.

When Aang talks about oneness, this is what Zuko can compare it to. Their mingled breaths, Aang's hand on his skin. That time at the Sun Warriors temple, along with now. They have everything. They are everything, and when they're together, Zuko can believe that they can achieve anything, overcome any struggle.

There's no obstacle big enough to stop their combined strength.

Is this what unconditional love is? The complete, utter perfection Zuko feels?

Nothing can mar this. Not when Aang is with him.

“I want to be there for you. I want to do everything in my power to provide reparation, to acknowledge the harm that's been done to your people, to offer my effort to make it right again... but I don't know how. I need you, Aang.” He stares into his eyes, gold meeting gray. “I need you to teach me. To tell me if I'm doing it wrong.”

“Okay,” Aang says, simply. “I'll be your advisor in this.”

“I'm so sorry that I'm asking this of you. I'm sorry that this is yet another burden piled up on top of your other responsibilities.”

Aang sighs. It's not a sad sigh, nor a frustrated sigh. Just... a deep exhale. “Someone has to do it. Might as well be me.”

“I wish you didn't have to.”

“Wishing is pointless. We might as well act on what we have.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I still can't accept the things that I suffered through. I haven't forgiven my family for what they've done. My father is rotting in prison, and he deserves it. For what he's done to me, to you, to this nation. The fact that you can be so calm about it... how? How can you be so calm?”

“Forgiving is not forgetting. What has been done has been done, and it's still impressed in my memory and will always be. But punishment serves no one.”

“So he should just... not pay for what he's done? Where's the justice in that?”

“Justice is meaningless. Justice is the illusion of balance, based on false ideas of truth.”

“Aang I don't fucking get it. He's a genocidal maniac. Send help.”

“The pain he's caused can't be mended through punishment. It cannot be solved in any way. We can only acknowledge that pain and make sure that it doesn't happen again. And... I'm glad that you're thinking about this. It warms my heart that you feel this way.”

[teentitwns]

soooo, as you know i wrote some bbrae fanfictions and, this one, especifically, called “all you had to do was stay” (yes, taylor swift’s song) was published in 2017 but i deleted after sometime because im little lazy and the history always seems easily in my mind.

anyway! i decided to rewrite this fanfiction and the first chapter is already posted on the brazilian website that i use (spirit fanfics), so why not put in here too?

please, remember that im brazilian and my english is a little broken - sorry for the mistakes you’ll find on the text.

well, thats it. im really nervous right now and insecure. i hope you like it and, maybe, i can post the fanfiction on ao3 or another website.

_______________

The protective dome around Raven was totally useless and, like her friends, she knew it.

She was there, standing in the middle of the contraption built by Cyborg, with all her vital signs being recorded on the computers that occupied a large part of the room, beeping together with the devices that showed her brain waves.

Everything had been perfectly assembled and positioned so that she had the best protection that anyone could have in the face of what was about to happen, but all those technological tools made her feel like a laboratory rat, studied in vain to discover that in the end the experience had gone wrong again.

She sighed loudly and propped her elbows on her knees, resting her face in one hand; she no longer cared about floating.

She felt physically and mentally drained to use her powers in something as unnecessary as floating, and she didn't need to be inches from the ground at that moment.

In fact, it was better to have contact with the earth, with the concrete floor. At least she would be sure that she was still alive, that the world was fine and whole.

Raven let out a loud snort and huffed impatiently, her eyes roaming the room until they found the door, waiting, miraculously, for one of the other Titans to enter. She had been inside that dome for hours and she couldn't take it anymore - loneliness was good when chosen willingly, not out of obligation.

To her despair, in addition to the blatant private prison that was happening there, the kidnapping, or anything else of that level, the situation made terrible flashbacks go through her head, making her remember Slade, the brand of Scath , the end of the world and, consequently, Trigon.

Why did everything have to be so similar? It seemed that karma was acting exactly the same as it had on her sixteenth birthday, creating a tedious and scary looping. She never considered herself a fan of automatic repetitions anyway.

Unconsciously, she took her left hand into the pocket of her midnight blue cloak in hopes of finding a specific object inside it, but this time, she had no lucky coin to cling to and consider as an amulet. She was alone, forgotten, practically left to die, just as she should have been two years ago, on the fateful day when Trigon’s Prophecy almost came true.

The empath, a “witch” as many called her, allowed herself to laugh with mockery. She hated feeling sorry for her own tragic life, but she couldn't escape the pitiful thoughts she was having. She probably didn't think differently from what her friends had in mind - she was just a poor girl, victim of circumstances, who was not to blame for being the fruit of the forbidden, unhealthy relationship between a human and an interdimensional demon. She was not to blame for being “Daddy's darling”, the one chosen to bring him to Earth for the second time, since she was a poorly raised daughter and prevented him the first time.

Now, at eighteen, she wouldn't be as lucky as she was at sixteen.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos… Azarath Metrion Zinthos…”, she closed her eyes and started to meditate, with nothing else to do. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos…”

“Raven!"

She opened her eyes with a start, facing Beast Boy. Awkwardly, he spread his hands on the thick glass of the dome, breathing heavily.

“Great.", She thought. “Of all the people that Robin could send, he chose the most restless."

" What are you doing here?", she asked.

“Dude, isn't it obvious? We’re doing it wrong! ”, Beast Boy waved his hands compulsively. “I mean, it's your father! There is no one better to stop him than you!”

“If I leave here it will be easier to get to Earth."

“I really don't want to be pessimistic, but he's already here, mama."

“Beast Boy..."

“It worked last time, didn't it? What good will it do you to be stuck in that dome? The world will end anyway!”

“Weren't you the one who was upbeat until two seconds ago?"

“I still am!"

“Does Robin know you're here?"

“…yes."

“I don’t believe that."

“Of course I told him,", the shapeshifter scratched the back of his head, causing his newly acquired muscles to start filling his uniform to appear. “I just don't know if he paid attention.”, He gave a nervous smile.

“It doesn't count as a warning."

“Have you never been told that what counts is the intention?"

Raven rolled her eyes and uncrossed her legs, standing up. She walked over to where Beast Boy was, touching the dome with her fingertips. He smiled broadly, running to the nearest computer and typing in the code that would free her.

When the dome barriers disappeared, Raven adjusted the hood on her head, thinking about the possibilities that surrounded her. Beast Boy was right, after all. Trigon was already on Earth, like the first time, and she would not be of much help if she were trapped, safe and sound, while her friends killed themselves to save the world.

“I knew you'd be up for it!" He celebrated, approaching her.

“It wasn't your worst idea."

“I'm smart, you underestimate me too much."

“I must have my reasons for that, right?

“Taking into account my discussions about tofu being the best food in the world can’t be considered as a reason.”

“No?”

“We all have our childish moments.”

“And you have your adult moments.”, she said.

“Nothing for having released you, I’m at your service.

“Where are they?”

“Downtown.”

“Excellent.”

“Raven”, Beast Boy called her when she started to leave. “Are you ready to go?”

“You don’t?”

“It's just… You have nothing to bring you luck.”

“I don't believe in luck.”, she lied, ignoring the thought that she had been wishing for a lucky charm a few minutes ago.

“Why not?”

“I make my own luck.”

“But it's always good to have help, isn't it?”

“Come on, Beast Boy.”

He shook his head negatively and approached her, holding her arm firmly and preventing her from getting away. The difference in height between them remained almost nil, with Raven looking a little taller from a distance because of the hood.

She frowned and looked at him without understanding, trying to pull her arm out of his grip, uncomfortable with the position they were in.

“It's just…”, Beast Boy started to speak. “I shouldn't be here and I know it. You are always so focused and correct that you even embarrass me for acting that way, but, last time, you had the coin I gave you and we won.

“I don’t know where it is.”, Raven lied, lowering her head to hide the blush on her cheeks. Some of her emotions were manifested in Nevermore, reminding her of the small passion she held for him. Passion, that, that she was sure that she would never be reciprocated. He was not a philanderer, he had never dated anyone after Terra, but he was not unaware of love affairs like her. She had a little more experience, even though she was also small. “We can't keep others waiting.”

“I can't let you go without an amulet.”

“There is no such thing as luck, Beast Boy! How many times have I told you that we need to run after what we want?”

“Many.”

“And none of them fixed on your brain?”

“Apparently no.”

“I should have imagined.”

“Why can't you give me a credit?”

“You are acting like a child who believes in Santa Claus.”

“And you're being cruel to me.”, he complained. “I thought you stopped that a while ago.”

“I stopped. Are we going to battle or not?”, Raven asked impatiently. “The world is about to end!”

“I know!”

“Then let me go!”

“I can't let you leave here without an amulet!”

“So give me this shit!”

Raven's words echoed around the room, and Beast Boy smirked, as if he had been waiting for this ever since they started arguing.

Such nonsense fights and quick discussions were not new to them, who were used to being awkward a few times a day, always for stupid reasons. However, that time, the shapeshifter had a purpose and, knowing that Raven would play the game, he put his idea into practice, which ended up working very well, thank you.

Raven shook her head and shrugged, silently asking if he wouldn't give her anything. She was waiting for a frog charm or other coin, but all she received was a warm kiss on the mouth, which made her blow up the nearest computer monitor.

The touch of Beast Boy's lips on his made her close her eyes instantly, her body and mind embracing the fact that she wanted that kiss - she had even been waiting for him for a long time, having fantasized the moment several times in the stillness of his. room.

On the other hand, Beast Boy didn't explode at all, but he felt his whole body vibrating. Her cheeks were as flushed as Raven’s, and it had taken him a long time to have the courage to kiss her.

The kiss could not be considered "worthy of a movie" because the two were too tense to give themselves up completely. They did not know where to put their hands and neither should they do it; A light in their heads blinked incessantly, reminding them that the world was ending while they were kissing, and billions of people were at risk.

It could be considered an ordinary kiss, but for Raven and Beast Boy, it meant much more than that.

They separate after a few seconds, unable to exchange a direct look. Beast Boy cleared his throat and Raven clung more tightly to her cloak, almost disappearing inside it.

“Raven”, Beast Boy smiled, making her look him in the eye quickly. Without breaking eye contact, he simply stuck a five-cent coin in her hand. Like old times. “Good luck.”

—————————————-

ok, i had no idea that the text would lose the diagramming!!! i wrote this on my iphone notes, sorryyyy

[anxiousstark]

S3 01 | Tattoo

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 1871

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, murder, dead body, swearing (always).

A/N: SEASON 3 HERE WE COME! Double update this week! 

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

Summer was the greatest thing that happened to us, and without any doubt, the best thing that had happened to me since I arrived at Beacon Hills. Our summer was full of peace, which is what we needed. No creatures were trying to kill us or other people. We were safe, and even though we couldn't avoid being a little apprehensive, we knew that we were finally safe.

Scott, Melissa and I were able to sit down together, explaining to her everything that had happened. We were terrified because it wasn't easy to explain to someone you loved that danger followed you. After all, we weren't humans anymore. That night we told her everything. Melissa got teary, feeling guilty for not being able to help or do anything for us. We told her that we were fine, we would be fine.

During this peaceful holiday, I was able to get closer to both boys. Scott and I didn't throw ourselves at each other's throats. Of course, there was a long way to walk. We still needed to get used to everything. The hazel-eyed boy and I developed a new habit during summer, whenever we felt anxious we seemed to notice, bodies being attracted to each other, hands interlocking, hoping to give the comfort we sought. Holding hands became a soothing gesture between us. We did it unconsciously.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles grabbed a folder, holding it up, showing it to the other boy. I walked closer to him, excited to see what was he holding, knowing Stiles, something that would make me snicker. "Too soon? Yeah." Of course, I snickered when I noticed that he was showing Scott the drawing of a beast that looked like the Kanima. Melissa allowed him to get a tattoo.

For what we got to know, Matt was dead. We still weren't sure what that would mean for Jackson. But we had promised ourselves that we wouldn't get into supernatural trouble during summertime. However, tomorrow was our first day back to class, which meant that the supernatural would come back to form part of our lives.

"I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?" I walked around the room, admiring the drawings decorating the walls.

"I'm not changing my mind." Scott and I got closer especially at night. One night I woke up after having a nightmare where I saw my mother. It seemed like the other McCall was also having a nightmare, which ended in both of us, sleeping on his bed, and talking about the stuff that worried us. That night Scott McCall cried, he missed Allion, but he couldn't ignore everything that had happened.

"Okay, but why two bands?"

Scott shrugged, stating that he just liked it. "But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"

"Getting a tattoo means something."

Stiles had a small grin on his face, ready to inform Scott that wasn't the point. But the tattoo artist interrupted him. "He's right, tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word 'tatua' means 'to leave a mark.' Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see? He gets it."

"He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally."

"Okay, you ready? You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

"Nope." Scott offered me a smile, ready to get the tattoo he has been asking for so long.

The boy standing next to me scratched his chin. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so..." There was no time to analyze the situation. Stiles was lying on the floor, an uncomfortable posture making the circumstances even funnier.

I sat on the passenger seat on Stiles's Jeep. Scott had bought a bike with the money he had gained while working for Deaton in the clinic. So now, every day, I was driven to class by the hazel-eyed boy.

"Don't you think it was strange?" He asked me again as I spaced out. "It seems like something supernatural to me. Exactly when we go back to class." After Scott's tattoo, we were ready to go home and have dinner together. My half-brother's happiness due to the tattoo didn't last for long as an excruciating pain made him take the bandages off, realizing the tattoo had disappeared. Maybe we should have taken into account that he was a werewolf, and he healed faster. A tattoo was an open wound.

On our way home, we saw Lydia's car, and not to anyone's surprise, she was with Allison. A deer hit the front of their car, making us run to them to check if they were hurt. Scott was convinced that the deer was terrified.

"I suppose, Stiles." I sighed, running my hands through my hair.

"Hey," He glanced at me for a second, quickly looking back to the road ahead of him. "You alright?" His hand ended up resting on top of my hand, which was resting on my thigh.

"I feel like so many bad things are going to happen again." I lamented. "We still don't know anything about me. There are obstacles everywhere."

"I told you. We will find answers, okay?" He squeezed my hand. To be honest, some nights during summer were spent searching for every scaly creature that exists in the supernatural world. But without knowing what I could do, we couldn't conclude anything. When we arrived at school, we walked directly to our classroom.

Stiles and I glanced at each other when only a couple of minutes into the lecture, Scott had to leave class. My mind went to the worst scenario case, thinking that maybe Melissa was in danger. Stilisnki seemed to notice my change of behaviour, extending his hand, offering me to grab it. I did.

He rested back on his chair, sighing, tired from doing whatever the teacher has ordered us to do. "Hey, Lydia. What is that?" When I followed his gaze, I noticed a bandage around the pretty strawberry blonde girl's ankle. "Is that from the accident?"

"No. Prada bit me."

"Your dog?" I asked. Stiles's other hand extended forward, forbidding me from biting my pen, a nervous habit I didn't notice I was doing.

"No, my designer handbag. Yes, my dog." She replied as if I was stupid, which made me grumble a little while Stiles smiled at my reaction.

"Has it ever bitten you before?" Lydia shook her head. "Okay. What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?"

"Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something. I just... maybe it means something's coming. Something bad." Stiles was completely right. Something was wrong, I felt it.

"It was a deer and a dog. What's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice..." Her words were interrupted when something hit the window, leaving a trail of blood. Every student was interrupted form their concentration, glancing at the window. Jennifer, our teacher, walked towards it. Crows, so many crows were coming towards us. Another one hit the window, and then another, and another.

"S-Stiles..." I whispered, my hand rapidly clutching his shirt between my fingers. The windows couldn't resist so many crows hitting it. They ended up being shattered, thousand of crows getting inside the classroom.

I quickly grabbed Lydia as she seemed to be shocked enough to react, covering her head with my arms. I felt someone doing the same thing for me. Stiles's back pressed tightly against mine, the inside of his thighs pressed against the outside of mines. His arms covering my face after he saw that I was hit by a couple of enraged crows.

Of course, the cops had been called. They were now asking around, trying to understand what was going on. However, this was something out of their reach.

"You alright?" Stiles's hands grabbed my cheeks, lightly moving my head from side to side, making sure that there wasn't any wound or scratch.

"You?" My fingers grasped a feather that seemed to be stuck in his hair, pulling it out. He nodded, sighing in relief, taking me into his arms. That is another habit we had developed during the summer.

"Guys," Mr. Stilisnki came closer to us, his eyes focusing on our intertwined hands. "No more class for today, okay?" He offered us a smile. "Go back home, alright? Make sure you guys are in a safe place." We both nodded.

"Yeah, I see it. It's two bands, right? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. It's just something I traced with my fingers."

"Why is this so important to you? Do you know what the word 'tattoo' means?"

"To mark something." Stiles crossed his arms while letting Derek know as if he didn't know already. He looked so proud of himself.

"Well, that's in Tahitian. In Samoan, it means 'open wound'. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned 18. I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, to make it kind of a reward."

"For what?"

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to, even when it was so hard not to sometimes. I was trying to give her the space she wants. Goin' four months later, it still hurts. It still feels like a, uh..."

"Like an open wound." Stiles finished for him. I sniffed, wiping my wet cheeks. I could feel a pair of eyes on me. "Wait, are you crying?"

I sobbed even harder when the boy standing next to me noticed that I was weeping. "I don't know why," I continued cleaning my face. "I just got emotional." The three boys grinned, Stiles embracing me while softly laughing.

"The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt." Derek let him know, but that wasn't going to scare Scott.

Fire. He was going to burn Scott. "Oh, wow. That's a... that's a lot for me. So I'm gonna take that as my cue. I'm just gonna wait outside." He tried to leave, and I tried to follow him, but Derek wasn't having any of it when he got up, grabbing us from the back of our shirts, and telling us to hold Scott down.

When we were leaving Derek's house after holding Scott down, who cried loudly, until he passed out. The McCall boy couldn't help but grin and be excited about his first tattoo.

"Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now." Stiles examined it, hands deep down in his pockets.

"Yeah. I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that's happened to us... everything just changes so fast." I sighed, linking my arms with both boys, who offered me a smile. "Everything's so, uh... Ephemeral."

"Studying for the psats?"

"Yep."

"Nice."

Scott opened the front door, but rare enough, he examined it while rubbing his fingers against the wood. "You painted the door. Why'd you paint the door?" He asked, looking back at Derek.

"Go home, Scott."

"Hey," I intervened. Scott's breath got quicker, scratching the paint off the door. "What is going on, Scott?" There was a symbol on the door.

.

.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday - @10minutesofscreentime - @momentitodebruh​ -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[monsterywriting]

Maledos - pt 1

masterlist

This is a rewrite. Read the original parts here, here and here

word count: 7,381 (!!!)

AN: i have really wanted to finish this story, but the original wasn’t really well planned out (and reading my old writing was :/) SO i decided to make one GIANT rewrite of the originals and continue from there. i mostly added on to what was already there with some minor changes so the story would make more sense and just add some extra bits :) the originals will be taken off the master list but will still be linked here.

Everything burned as you raced through the streets of your neighborhood, frantically searching for your dog. Your legs and lungs were screaming from the workout you’d only just finished and your eyes stung with the threat of tears from your panic.

Of course Pumpkin would take off after the two of you had just come back from running on the park trails, only seconds away from entering the safety of your apartment building when a car backfired nearby and scared her.

You called her name out in desperation, though you knew she was probably long gone from the area. You had only just moved into the city recently and neither her or you were familiar enough with the area to not get lost.

You bit your thumbnail anxiously. Pumpkin wouldn’t last a minute out on the streets by herself, exposed to the elements. She was sensitive, scared of her own shadow when it was cast on a wall. Not to mention, the weather forecast for the night called for thunderstorms, dark clouds already gathering overhead to block the afternoon sun.

“Hey, kid, need some help?”

You almost don’t realize the stranger is talking to you, too preoccupied in your own worry to pay much attention to your surroundings. Once you do, however, you’re too relieved at the display of kindness to correct the tiefling that you were actually an adult.

Your potential savior towered over you, well over 6’ even without including his horns that curled back over his head, average for a tiefling but giant in comparison to your short figure. His skin was a fiery red and he was dressed in all black - a nice dress shirt tucked into slim-fitting trousers that accentuated his buff figure nicely. The most striking part of his outfit, however, was the leather biker jacket with an unfamiliar emblem of a stag surrounded by brambles. Had you been in your right mind, you may have also taken in his short-cropped black hair, bright yellow eyes, strong nose and jawline, nice full lips - in short, handsome, model-like, statuesque, hot, all terms you may have used to describe him if you weren’t preoccupied with finding your dog.

He also looked fairly annoyed with you, though you decided to attribute it as his resting face since he had obviously taken the time to come out of his way to stop and help you.

“Uhm- yes, my dog, Pumpkin,” you explained breathlessly, hardly able to focus as you continued to look around for a familiar flash of fur, “she took off while I was unlocking my apartment building’s door! We just got back from the park!”

Maledos appraised the tiny human with an eyebrow raised. He was still debating whether to actually go out of his way for you, his question more rhetorical than anything else, expecting the person to wave away a stranger rather than roping them into their problem.

Based on the owner, however, he figured ‘Pumpkin’ was a chihuahua. Or a Pomeranian; something small and fluffy that surely couldn’t have gotten far. It wouldn’t take long to find the little rascal, so he didn’t mind potentially being a few minutes late to work.

“I’ll walk with you and help you look,” he offered. You certainly didn’t look like you were a resident of the neighborhood, and at the grateful look you gave him as you eagerly accepted, you had probably been worried about wandering around the predominantly orcish neighborhood alone.

Maledos came to regret not minding his own business, however, as those few minuets stretched into an hour of searching every single alleyway, dumpster and parked car they came across and he had long since missed the window to get out of this mess. Valbaugh was definitely going to kill him once he finally showed up. 

You, on the other hand, were laser-focused on finding your dog, nervously looking up at the darkening sky every so often and hoping that she was hunkered down somewhere and not running in the busy intersections.

After entering yet another alley while you checked under parked cars, Maledos squatted down to look under a store’s dumpster, careful not to get his shoes or pants in any of the unidentifiable dumpster juice leaking from a crack in the metal but eventually forced to place his hands on the pavement to peer underneath the gap, internally cursing at the definite crease in his leather shoes. He stood up, glancing down the mostly empty alley and catching a glimpse of brown fur disappearing behind some smaller trashcans.

Praying its your dog and not a stray so he can leave, Maledos approaches, intent on grabbing the dog and swiftly returning it to you. Moving the trashcan and expecting to see a tiny fluff ball, his gaze was instead met with that of a giant pitfall, its expression decidedly murderous. Its muscles flexed impressively underneath its reddish-brown pelt and its studded pink leather harness only added to the fearsome image before him. He scrambled out of the way, about to yell at you to run when you suddenly let out a screech and called out Pumpkin’s name again, this time in joy, crouching down and holding your arms open.

The pit ran past him and barreled into you, nearly knocking you over with the force of the collision. Standing up, you lifted Pumpkin with barely a grunt - an impressive feat in and of itself - and peppered her face with kisses as Maledos stood awkwardly out of the way of the touching reunion. 

Finally setting the dog down, you grabbed the leash that had been trailing behind her and began thanking Maledos profusely as the two of you walked down the street and back to your starting point.

“Thank you again,” you repeated as you walked your now definite savior, sincere in your gratitude even if he’d been a grouch the entire time, “I only moved here a month ago and I was so worried I’d get lost!”

You gestured to the specific building down the road, evidently having no issue with telling him your address. In fact, the entire time Maledos had been with you alone in isolated parts of the neighborhood, you didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that he, a complete stranger, may well have been a serial killer.

But more pressingly, Maledos realized the apartment building you pointed to was his own. Another surprise - you were apparently his neighbor.

As Maledos tuned out your rambling, he took the time to fully examine you. You obviously weren’t a little kid as Maledos had originally thought, but were incredibly short - you couldn’t be more than 5’. You were dressed in workout clothes, which was to be expected if you had just left the park as you told him. You spoke animatedly, your eyes and facial expression giving away every fluctuation in emotion while your hands waved about, even as he didn’t pay attention, he could guess you were recounting the moments leading up to you losing your dog - who was walking calmly in between you and him with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, seemingly the exact opposite of her spaz of an owner.

“I just don’t know how to repay you,” you finished as you finally reached the front of the apartment building, gulping down a deep breath before looking expectantly at Maledos.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly, continuing down the street in the direction he’d originally been going before the over hour-long deviation from his routine. Glancing at the time, he realized just how much time had elapsed and cursed under his breath, Valbaugh no doubt fuming at the bar.

“Well, I hope to see you around!” You called after him, certain he didn’t catch your name even as you shouted it as loudly as you dared in a residential neighborhood.

Maledos doesn’t turn around, not bothering to acknowledge your friendliness, knowing you wouldn’t last long in the neighborhood - no matter how tough your dog looked.

You, meanwhile, turn to look down at Pumpkin, the dog whining as she pulled on her leash to go inside. You quickly acquiesce, rushing to unlock the door just as the first raindrops began to fall on the sidewalk where you’d just been standing.

It wasn’t until after you reached your apartment and threw yourself on your bed in exhaustion that the gravity of the entire situation hit you. You could have lost Pumpkin for far longer than the time it took to find her had that tiefling not found her. And only now did you realize you never caught his name, though as you hugged Pumpkin close in your bed with emotional tears streaming down your face, you felt incredibly indebted to him, whoever he was.

You don’t remember falling asleep like that, though you must have as you’re forcibly shaken awake by your roommate facedown on your bed with your shoes still on your feet hanging off the edge and Pumpkin stretched out along your side. In your surprise, you suddenly shot up, effectively scaring the daylights out of Kharza, which in turn scared Pumpkin passed out next to you.

Checking your phone, you were shocked to find it was already 4 o’clock in the afternoon and outside your window the storm was in full force, the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance as giant raindrops sounding like hail pelted the windows.

Kharza flicked your forehead and pouted as her other hand reached over to scratch Pumpkin’s ear to soothe her, “Don’t scare me like that! What the hell happened to you? I’ve been calling you all afternoon.”

“Pumpkin got spooked by some car backfiring today and took off,” you explained, apologizing before getting into the whole spiel of what had transpired, wondering just how much to reveal to Kharza of the grumpy tiefling who came to your aid in case it made for an awkward interaction later, “Somebody did stop and help me, though. I don’t know if he lives nearby but if it wasn’t for him I probably wouldn’t have found Pumpkin.”

Kharza’s expression had grown increasingly grim as she absorbed the story, concerned about what could have happened to either one of you while running around the city’s busy streets alone. Rather than lecture you for not being more careful when you were so clearly shaken up about what had happened still, Kharza instead turned to Pumpkin and mock-scolded her in a baby voice, making you laugh at Pumpkin getting excited by Kharza’s tone alone.

You’ve known the half-orc since you were both in diapers, growing up in the same small town together - and keeping in touch even after she went to college in the much larger city - meant that she knew how important Pumpkin was to you and exactly what you needed to relieve the tension you felt.

“I’m glad you found her quickly,” Kharza said as she got up and walked to your bedroom door, “but hurry up and jump in the shower. We’re going out for drinks tonight.”

“What about the rain?” You asked, looking out the window at the seemingly endless torrent. You couldn’t even see the street below through the thick sheet of rain.

“I already checked the weather. It should be done by 7 so we can head out at 10,” Kharza insisted confidently, “I need a drink after being called in on a Saturday and you need to get out of your little new resident bubble. Bring out the party animal you from our high school days, huh?”

You chuckled along at the memory, somewhat embarrassed but acquiescing with her invitation out, knowing that despite coming out as a demand, she would have no problem if you declined. You supposed Kharza was right in that you had been in something of a slump since moving to the city and away from home - not going anywhere besides your job, the park with Pumpkin and the apartment. You didn’t know anyone here, and hadn’t really made the effort to get to know them.

You thought once you started your job you could get to know your co-workers, but the office you worked at was much larger than you thought and the cubicles kept everyone fairly separate, making it hard for you to really get friendly with anyone. Tonight would be the perfect opportunity for you to meet Kharza’s other friends and perhaps make some of your own.

Still, you were apprehensive standing in front of your closet wrapped only in your towels just hours later. It had taken you hours to convince yourself that Pumpkin would be okay alone, the thunderstorm long past and snoring loudly on your bed after going out to use the bathroom, and now you couldn’t help but agonize over what to wear. On one hand, it was your first time going out with Kharza in a long while and you wanted to go all out. On the other, you didn’t want to be stuck wearing uncomfortable clothes all night long.

Finally, you decided to go halfway, picking out a nice top but comfortable jeans, nice shoes but slipping an extra pair of sneakers into your bag just in case. Once you’re satisfied with your pick in clothes, you decided to leave your hair as it was out the shower, only blowdrying it briefly without brushing it out.

With your outfit complete, you grabbed your bag and keys and went out into the living room where Kharza was waiting to head out, though not before you both hyped the other’s outfit. She thankfully also went with a more casual outfit, wearing a pink crop top with a short jean skirt and black heeled boots. Her long, dark hair flowed down her back in loose waves, untamed but not entirely wild, which it usually was when she took it out her work braid. Kharza had been in the process of putting on her jean jacket to complete her look when you exited your room, and as soon as she was ready, you both left.

“What’s the name of the place again?” You asked as you both walked down the empty sidewalk looking for what Kharza claimed was ‘the best bar in town’ and ‘just down the street.’

“The sign doesn’t really match the name, but it’s named after the owner,” Kharza explained, directing you to cross the street at an intersection, “Mal’s.”

You heard the place before you saw it, the patio completely full even after the sudden rain left everything drenched. Though what made your drop was when you approached and recognized the sign, the familiar crest with the stag surrounded by brambles.

You kept your mouth shut, however, as Kharza led you inside through the crowd to a large corner filled with people of all kinds - a couple of orcs and elves, a satyr and a dryad who jumped up smiling and immediately enveloped you in a hug as Kharza introduced you to everyone else.

After brief introductions, you and Kharza head to the bar and you somehow managed to order your favorite beer from the absolutely colossal orc bartender despite the place being completely hammered.

Once you both return to the booth cradling your drinks, you get settled at the edge across from Kharza, you quickly get comfortable, engaging in the conversation with ease, the coincidence of the sign slipping from your mind as you laughed along with everyone.

Kharza always said you had a knack for making friends ever since you insisted on being her friend even when everyone else in kindergarten was wary of her as a half-orc and even went so far as to convince everyone else in your class that she was quote - the coolest and prettiest friend ever. However, tonight you had to attribute your easy assimilation with Kharza’s city friends to her having apparently talked their ears off about you, her best friend back home - including the story of how you became friends. A nice circle, you thought.

Less than an hour later, a familiar face appeared from the midst of the crowd, making you freeze in the middle of listening to the dryad, Nitidea, talk at length about their day. The newcomer squeezed in next to you, making you freeze where you were. Everyone in the group shouted over the crowd to greet the person next to you, all of them referring to him as Mal.

You don’t look up, caught by surprise and stunned into silence at the sudden appearance of the tiefling you met only a couple hours earlier with the most sour expression you’d ever seen on anyone now smiling so widely you were nearly blinded by his sharp, pearly whites. You do note that the smile does falter once his eyes finally met yours as ‘Mal’ realized not only was he sitting right next to you, but the arm he’d so carelessly draped around the person next to him was also you.

“So you were the new roommate Kharza’s been talking about,” Maledos said quietly, recovering from his initial shock with record speed once the rest of the table’s conversation shifted back to what it had been before he arrived, carefully taking his arm off you and pretending to reach for his drink while flashing a quick smile to everyone else, “I wasn’t expecting you to be…”

“Human?” You chuckle as you took a small sip of your own beer, not wanting to get buzzed too quickly, “and I wasn’t expecting the person who went out of their way to help a stranger look for their lost dog to be named Mal.”

“Maledos,” he clarified just a little too quickly, thanking the gods above that he was too red to noticeably blush as you laughed, though he wasn’t sure why he was so damn nervous in his own bar, though he suspected it may have something to do with the intensity of the stare Kharza was giving him from the other side of the table.

“Thanks again for today, I really do appreciate it,” you turn serious for a brief moment, noticing Maledos’ discomfort, which you presumed to be from how standoffish he’d been when you first met, deciding to try and ease the tension now that you apparently had mutual friends.

Giving Maledos one last nod of appreciation, you turned to rejoin the booth’s conversation, the tiefling soon loosening up as well as you pointedly didn’t make a big deal out of his entirely different demeanor. 

Most of the group had never lived outside of the city and urged you to tell them more about living in “the country” since Kharza only ever went on about how boring it was - downplaying just how wild it could be growing up in a small, half-suburb-half-farmland town could be when kids were left to make their own fun.

As you were in the middle of telling your highly engaged audience about the specifics of the after-prom house party at one of the football players’ houses your senior year, the bartender appeared and quietly extracted Maledos from the group. You glanced up as he left, conscious of the sudden loss of the body next to you but continuing the story with Kharza inputting her own memories of the event.

Some indiscernible amount of time later, you found yourself struggling to get through the crowd and to the bar to order another beer for yourself. Once you finally are able to get the bartender’s - Valbaugh, you overhear a nearby patron call him - attention and get your order in, you noticed Maledos a few feet away talking with another group of people, once again amazed by how different he could be, though you supposed since he was at work he couldn’t exactly be Mr. Resting Bitch Face, an assessment you were now comfortable with making now that you knew that wasn’t how he normally looked.

Just as you paid for your drink and were about to turn away with it, Maledos glanced up and you both made eye contact. You smiled and gave a small wave with your free hand, but instead of returning the gesture, Maledos said something to the people he was talking to and began walking over to you. Neither one of you spoke as Maledos ordered a whiskey and when he gave no indication that he was going to speak while you both drank, you finally decided to break the silence yourself.

“You need that stiff a drink to talk to me?” You quipped, already kicking yourself mentally as it seemed to have the opposite effect than you intended, Maledos attempting to explain himself rather than lightening the mood, “I was kidding, Mal. This isn’t a interrogation.”

“Right,” Maledos cleared his throat, downing the rest of his drink, “Sorry, I’m not usually- I just really didn’t expect to see you again, much less with my friends. No offense.”

“None taken. I get it,” you smile, truly not offended as you figured that was just Maledos’ personality with with people he wasn’t close to, deciding to extend the olive branch of friendship first, “So… Kharza tells me you’re the mysterious neighbor I’ve never seen around the apartment before.”

“Yeah, I’m usually here all night and just knock out once I get home,” Maledos finally relaxed, falling into easy conversation with you once he imagined he was speaking to a potential regular customer, “I come and go at odd hours, so most people with normal work schedules wouldn’t exactly run into me.”

“I’m not envious of the all nighters but it sounds nice to have days for yourself,” you marveled, “so how’d you decide you wanted to own a bar?”

“I inherited it from my mom, actually. It’s named after her, too,” Maledos explained, handing his empty glass to Valbaugh and holding up two fingers, “When she opened it, the city was still pretty segregated between the different races. She wanted to have a space that was a neutral zone.”

“Well, it definitely fits the vision she had,” you smile, turning in your chair to take a full look at the diverse crowd in a new light.

“Well, what about you?” Maledos inquired.

“What about me?”

“Why the sudden switch to big city living?” He pressed, “I mean, I get Kharza’s old roommate sucked but that’s hardly a reason to move halfway across the country.”

“You’re right,” you snort, “I was already offered a job here when Kharza told me she needed a new roommate. The pay’s good and the rent was in my budget, so I decided to just bite the bullet and come out here—”

“With Pumpkin,” Maledos finished, chuckling as you beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically in agreement. You had a nice smile, he thought offhandedly, “I’m not gonna lie - seeing that giant dog when I was expecting a chihuahua almost gave me a heart attack.”

“A chihuahua?!” You feigned indignation, the corners of your lips threatening to turn up into a smile, “I’ll have you know a lady of my stature needs a dog to match.”

At that, Maledos burst out into laughter as he commented you probably had to scale the bar stool you were sitting on when you sat down, which finally broke your own serious expression and you both were laughing uncontrollably. The rest of the night passes in a blur, you and Maledos talking at length about anything and everything with only occasional interruptions as other patrons of the bar came to say goodbye to Maledos before leaving.

“I was totally surprised to find out you were so talkative… and smile-y,” you admitted, only a little tipsy after cutting yourself off on your third beer since sitting down, “I mean, you hardly said two words to me all afternoon.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of an asshole before people get to know me, or so I’m told,” Maledos admitted, slightly embarrassed that after making so many assumptions about you, he was now actually enjoying an entire conversation with you.

At some point, Kharza comes looking for you, everyone else heading out. The orc was giving you a familiar look, one you pretend not to recognize or notice. You were shocked you’d spent so long talking to Maledos after telling everyone you were just going to buy a single beer. Maledos glanced down at his watch, looking just as dumbfounded as you.

“Shit, it’s already closing,” Maledos frowned, “Valbaugh, why didn’t you announce last call?”

“I did,” the bartender replied, rolling his eyes, though the grin on his face indicated he wasn’t truly annoyed as he added teasingly, “I guess you were too preoccupied to notice.”

You and Kharza burst out laughing as Maledos’ tail, which had up until then been lazily swishing behind him, stood straight up as he began sputtering indignantly.

“Well, we’re going to head out,” Kharza said, dropping her hands on your shoulder and about to lead you away from the bar when something finally dawns on you.

“Oh, since we’re neighbors we should exchange numbers!” You said quickly, rummaging around in your bag for your phone and completely missing the looks Valbaugh and Kharza shot Maledos.

“Don’t feel too special,” Kharza warned sarcastically, “she also got Ms. Lalshur’s and Mrs. Umekrana’s numbers the first week she moved in.”

Valbaugh snorted, but Maledos’ pointed ears perked up at the second name, “I understand Ms. Lalshur, she talks to everyone… but I’ve lived there for almost five years and Mrs. Umekrana hasn’t said more than ten words to me. And they were ‘quit making all that fucking racket on the stairs every night’.”

You bite back a smile at the jab at your cranky neighbor, handing Maledos your phone so he could add his number to your contacts and taking his offered phone in return, “she’s nice once you get to know her. But it didn’t hurt that I was able to fix her sewing machine for her the day I met her…”

After saying your final goodbyes to both Maledos and Valbaugh, you and Kharza walked back to your apartment, Kharza wasting no time interrogating you about your apparently two hour long conversation with the tiefling as soon as you exited the bar. What did you two talk about? Did he pay for your drinks? Was he flirting with you? And, most importantly, do you like him?

You barely manage to keep up with the barrage of questions, and the last question nearly makes you choke on your own spit at its abruptness. As far as Kharza knows, you’ve only just met Maledos tonight at the bar, and while it is too soon to discern any deeper feelings, you can’t deny that you had fun spending time with him, or that he was incredibly attractive. However, you reason, it wasn’t ideal to date within a friend group, especially when you had no one else you knew - if things even got that far. Frankly, you would probably just embarrass yourself developing a crush on Maledos.

In any case, it would be more trouble than what it’s worth for everyone involved and you immediately decided it would be best to avoid that road altogether, firmly denying any feelings when Kharza asked.

…

A month passed quickly since your first night at the bar. It was the go-to hangout spot for Kharza and her friends, so it was a given once you became a part of the group that you would hang out there often as well, which meant even more interactions with Maledos - the only time you’d see him despite living across the hall from each other. And whenever you went to the bar, the two of you would inevitably take up each other’s time and attention, a fact Kharza loves to claim as proof of something deeper going on between you, entirely convinced that the two of you were sneaking behind everyone’s backs no matter how often you point out that your very average conversations were nowhere near the proclamations of undying love she imagined.

Rather than convince Kharza that nothing was happening - which it wasn’t - it always managed to set her off in a long speech about how dense you were and how you wouldn’t recognize Maledos’ feelings for you if he got down on one knee before you in front of everyone, to paraphrase.

While you couldn’t deny that Maledos was attractive to your best friend, who would easily see through such blatant lies knowing full well your ‘type’ had remained largely unchanged since you were teenagers, you still stood by your decision not to complicate the dynamics of the group with undoubtedly unrequited feelings. It was just downright unlikely that a hot, successful business owner who met hundreds of people every week through his job would find you of all people particularly interesting. Especially considering the fact that Maledos hadn’t given you any sort of indication that he wanted to be anything more than friends, no matter what Kharza said about the ‘subtleties of love.’

Despite your conviction whenever you told Kharza she was reading too much into things, but that didn’t stop the part of your pride that reared its head whenever she inadvertently stroked your ego with claims that some small action showed Maledos secretly was crushing on you. Despite it feeling so very high school, it was still an addicting rush to think so and didn’t help your burgeoning feelings for the tiefling every time you saw him.

After a particularly long day at work - a visit by an important client for the company you worked for requiring all hands on deck as your boss had everyone bending over backwards for them - you fell asleep almost immediately after getting home, only taking Pumpkin out to use the bathroom by your apartment building before passing out and even bailing on Friday night drinks with everyone. So when at almost 6 in the morning Pumpkin’s whining at your bedroom door to be taken out woke you up, you rushed to get changed and take her for a much needed walk, feeling terrible for depriving her of her evening walk.

You went to the park a couple blocks away, sitting on a bench in the small dog park while you watched Pumpkin excitedly sniff around. Despite sleeping well over eight hours, you still somehow nod off, not even realizing you do until you felt someone tapping on your shoulder, eliciting a shrill scream from you.

“Gods above that was loud. And here I was trying to save you from falling off a bench,” you recognized Maledos’ teasing voice right away, twisting around in your seat to look at him leaning over the fence as Pumpkin jumped onto the bench next to you for ear scratches.

“Are you barely coming back from the bar?” You stifle a yawn behind your hand, grinning as you watched Maledos easily scale the fence to sit next to you, still apparently full of energy even after pulling an all-nighter at the bar. He was wearing the leather jacket with the bar’s logo on it - the one article of clothing you had yet to see him without in all the time you’d known him - but now he wore a plain black shirt, jeans and white sneakers as opposed to the dressier clothes he’d been wearing when you met.

“Yeah, Fridays are always our busiest nights so I usually have to stay until the next morning,” Maledos sighed, draping himself over you melodramatically with one arm thrown over his face in mock despair, “I was bored all night without you there. Why did you leave me all alone?”

“Oh, I’m sure you were absolutely lonely in the bar surrounded by 800 of your closest friends,” you snarked, nudging Maledos in his side to get him off. You stifle down your soaring emotions at his remarks, knowing that Maledos’ words were far from flirtatious.

You had long since realized that the tiefling was very much like a cat in that respect - an aloof brick wall to those he didn’t know but incredibly needy with those he was close to - though you couldn't help the swell of pride that came with thought that he preferred having you around over anyone else. It certainly didn’t help dampen your growing crush on the man.

“And what are you doing sitting around in a dimly lit park this early?” Maledos asked, finally sitting up but still draping his arms around the back of the bench.

“I fell asleep early and didn’t get a chance to walk her,” you replied, placing both palms on either side of Pumpkin’s face and squishing the excess skin, making the dog grow so excited her whip-like tail began swinging right dangerously close to Maledos’ arm, “but when else would I be able to run into my night owl of a neighbor?”

Maledos snorted, the two of you beginning to joke around with each other while you sat, mostly about a certain couple on the first floor who was seemingly constantly arguing. You thought it was just in the middle of the night, but Maledos assured you they also kept him up during the day when all he wanted to do was sleep.

As the sky rapidly lightened overhead, Pumpkin started tugging on her leash in your hand, a sign that she was ready to go. Maledos walked with you through the park and back towards the apartment building in a comfortable silence, Pumpkin sticking close to Maledos’ side since he pet her while you walked.

“Oh yeah, Ms. Lalshur tells me you baked her the best cookies she’s ever tasted when you first moved in,” Maledos mentioned as he held the building door open for you, “gotta admit I feel a little left out.”

“I gave some to everyone on our floor, but somebody never answered their door when I knocked,” you said as you started up the stairs with Pumpkin.

“Y’know, I think I remember looking through my peephole and seeing a girl scout once…” Maledos tapped his finger on his cheek while feigning a contemplative look, though he was soon doubling over in laughter as you shoved him for the jab, though he doesn’t even budge.

“Well you can forget tasting any of my baking skills, mister,” you scoffed, turning as though you were going to stomp to your apartment door.

“Hold on, I’m sorry, please give me—shit!” Maledos tried to follow behind you, but neither of you noticed Pumpkin standing between you, the large tiefling falling forward as he tried to avoid hurting her and stumbling over his own feet.

Maledos fortunately caught himself on the wall, effectively caging you between his muscular arms as he hunched over you, your faces mere centimeters apart just short of a collision that would have surely left you both concussed - you worse if his horns had knocked into you.

You let out a chuckle to try and ease the tension, but it comes out too airy, made worse as you tried to joke, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you tripped on purpose, Mal.”

Maledos’ expression softened at the nickname you so rarely used for him in favor of his full name despite how universal it was for everyone else. He broke into a small grin, beginning to say something when the door across the hall slammed open and Mrs. Umekrana walked out into the hall with her trash in one hand and a cigarette in another, interrupting.

“You can’t keep it in your fucking pants until you get into your apartment, Maledos?” She muttered, continuing towards the stairs and taking a long drag that somehow doesn’t set off any of the smoke detectors.

The two of you watched the willowy-looking drow disappear down the stairwell like deer in headlights, the moment quickly hurtling towards uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know Mrs. Umekrana even knew my name,” Maledos said weakly, the first to break the silence as he quickly stepped away from you and loudly cleared his throat.

You were still struggling to catch your breath, not wanting to sound too flustered when you finally responded, though you were fortunately spared from the awkward situation as Pumpkin began whining to go inside beside you.

“It was good seeing you, Maledos,” you said with an only slightly strained smile, unlocking your apartment door and waving one last time before finally shutting the door and able to let out a deep breath you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your mind and heart were racing as you took off Pumpkin’s harness, relieved Kharza was such a heavy sleeper. Obviously unable to sleep after that, you tossed and turned in your bed as you wondered what would have happened - if anything at all - had Mrs. Umekrana hadn’t decided to take out her trash at that very moment.

Finally giving up on sleep, you got up and ventured into the kitchen, Pumpkin not moving from her spot on the bed. It was already 9 o’clock, which meant if your started baking now you could be done in an hour.

You quickly set to work, gathering all the necessary ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator while the oven preheated. Rather than make cookies, you decide to go with brownies since they were much easier to prepare.

Kharza wandered into the kitchen after you’ve already set the pan of mix in the oven, futilely pushing back her bedhead as she watched you pretend to scroll through your phone and look at anywhere but her while you sat at the dining table.

“Brownies? Who’re you bringing out the big guns for?” Kharza yawned as she leaned on the island counter with her chin resting on her palm.

“I’m not bringing out anything,” you replied, pressing the oven light to watch the brownies’ progress despite only just putting it in, keeping your voice even as you nonchalantly add “I’m just making Maledos some brownies.”

“Oh, Maledos, I should have known.” You don’t even need to look up to know Kharza was wiggling her eyebrows with a knowing smirk, her tone saying it all.

You don’t bother to make a reply, any defense of your actions only feeding into her conviction. You definitely could not tell Kharza about what had transpired hours earlier - no matter how badly you needed her advice on the matter. It would only make her more convinced that you and Maledos were an item and Kharza would no doubt tease Maledos with the information, which would make it obvious you were overthinking things with him when nothing actually happened and you couldn’t risk Maledos finding out your feelings like that.

By the time Kharza left on her morning jog with Pumpkin, you had already taken the brownies out the oven and placed the pan in the fridge to cool before cutting them into squares. After stacking two thirds of them onto a plate and sending a quick text to Maledos about coming over, you leave your apartment to go down the hall.

It took you a minute of pacing back and forth in front of his door to gather up the courage to knock, praying that Maledos was even awake. However, before your lifted hand can even make contact with the door, it was swinging open, Maledos standing before you before you can even jump from the sudden movement, your mouth slack in surprise.

“I- uh- got your text,” Maledos explained, standing aside to let you inside. He had changed into a plain white t-shirt and sweats, his hair still dripping obviously fresh from a shower. 

As you walked into the apartment, you were struck by how different it appeared from your and Kharza’s, even with the exact same layout and fixtures. The interior definitely suited Maledos - a lot of steel grays with black splashed here and there, all very modern. The entire apartment was impeccable, ripped straight from a catalogue, a show apartment for tours rather than a home and definitely not one lived in for the last five years. However, it made sense considering Maledos spent most of his free time in the apartment sleeping, the rest in the bar, so it was a given the apartment wouldn’t be messy.

You set the plate down on the kitchen counter, nearly running face to chest into Maledos when you turned around just as he was reaching around you for a piece.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, ducking around him and not looking at Maledos as you felt your cheeks burning. In turn, you missed how Maledos turned to watch you make your way to his bookshelf, reading the spines but not daring to move your hands from your sides lest you mess up the order of everything.

Unbeknownst to you, Maledos had also been unable to sleep after the almost-something in the hallway. He had laid in his bed, wide awake and texting his older sister, who had been less than pleased to be woken up so early on a Saturday but easily placated with the news that Maledos of all people was having girl troubles.

He had been surprised as well. For years running the bar had been his life, everything else put on the back burner to that goal. He was good at that. Successful, even. But in romance, short flings and one night stands were his forte, not pining over his neighbor or a friend’s best friend - in your case, both. You were growing increasingly important to him and he knew for a fact you didn’t deserve having to deal with his ineptitude in longterm relationships. You were someone who baked cookies for your neighbors in your free time and helped old ladies fix their ancient singer sewing machines. You just came over with a plate full of brownies just because he mentioned he wanted to try your baking that morning.

Not to mention he would be risking your friendship if you didn’t even feel the same way. There was simply too much at stake for him, preferring to keep his feelings closely guarded and never acted on.

But all that care and caution was all thrown out the moment he would see you - just as he had this morning while walking back home from the bar. He had needed to rest, wake up before noon and go back to do the expenses. Instead, he found himself already walking over to you and tapping your shoulder, reveling in how all drowsiness dissipated from your expression upon seeing him and the way the corners of your eyes crinkled as you flashed him the widest grin - unconscientious, unabashed in wearing your heart on your sleeve.

“Maledos?” You asked again, jumping up to wave your hand in front of his eyes and drawing him back to reality, “You were spacing out pretty hard. Are you okay?”

“Of course!” It came out too forced, you certainly looked unconvinced. He laughed sheepishly, “Sorry, the all nighters are starting to get to me. What happened?”

“I said Kharza and I were going to go for drinks tonight since we didn’t get a chance to go out last night,” you reiterated, curious of what he had been thinking but respecting his decision not to share, “Maybe you could go with us? I think you could definitely use a night off. You seem tired. Get away from the bar for a night, scope out the competition. I’m sure Valbaugh and the others can hold down the fort.”

The concern you showed for him made a surge of emotion rise up in Maledos, bringing forth a wide smile before he could stop himself, agreeing to go with you. And Kharza.

“Great,” you clapped your hands together in excitement, heading towards the door with a wave, “See you tonight, then. I’ll text you.”

“See you tonight,” Maledos repeated back, returning you wave and standing in the middle of his foyer for a good five minutes after you’d closed the door behind you.

His phone alarm finally sounded, rousing him from his stupor rather than a nap and telling him it was time to go back to the bar. Dismissing it, Maledos opened up his recent calls and dialed Valbaugh to let him know he would be taking the night off.

[wordsfromthesol]

Character Model

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: You may or may not have been following Jason Todd around a bookstore so you could model one of your story characters after him. He may or may not have noticed. Warnings: Language? Word Count: 2k A/N: Just a story from my drafts folder. Sorry I haven’t been able to write any of the wonderful requests I have sitting in my inbox...work has been running me ragged. But they are coming! Love you all 💛

You had no idea where this man came from, but he was perfect. Exactly what you envisioned the assassin prince in your newest story to look like, and he just waltzed into the bookstore. First, you tried to ignore him…after all it would be kind of creepy to stare at this man while sketching him and jotting down little details about the way he walks, talks, runs his fingers through his hair. The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t get him out of your mind. As you watched his mannerisms, he just became more perfect. Fuck it. You got up from your seat and moved closer to him, pretending to look at the books on the shelf. It wasn’t a very good cover story, as it was quite obvious you were drawing him. I will never see this man again, who cares.

You were never the best artist, but the image got the message across. Once it was complete, you continued following him awkwardly around the store jotting down notes. His interest in certain books, the way he seemed to survey the bookstore…Maybe he is an assassin prince? Those didn’t actually exist right? You ignored those thoughts as you commented on his gait. Wrapped up in your descriptions, you didn’t realize he was now watching you. That is until you looked up again and saw his steel blue eyes staring into yours.

“What are you profiling me for, doll?”

You spun around, hoping he wasn’t talking to you. No such luck. “Oh, uhm, I wasn’t?”

“Hmm, sure does look like it. Can I see that sketch?”

“Heh, you saw that?” He raised his eyebrows. Of course he saw it, Y/N, you are being creepy. “Okay, I swear I’m not stalking you! I just…gosh this is going to sound so stupid…you look exactly like how I envisioned this character in my head…for a story.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Some people would beg to differ, but I guess technically.”

“So what’s the character then?”

Okay now he’s going to be offended. “Uhm…an assassin? But he’s also like prince to the guild thing. It’s kind of complicated.”

“So I look like an assassin?”

“Kind of…?” To your surprise the man chuckled.

“Not gunna lie, I’ve been called so much worse.”

Why are you so awkward? “Well sorry for being creepy…” You turned to leave and didn’t notice the man following you until you nearly slammed the front door in his face.

“I think I deserve to see that sketch after you followed me around for an hour AND tried to knock me out with a door.”

“Oh my go – I’m so sorry, I figured I’d thoroughly…embarrassed myself, so I left…why are you following me?”

“Thought I’d return the favor?” You gave him a nervous smile, the thought of this very large strange man walking you home, at night, in Gotham, did not provide you with much peace. “Relax, you look just like a character I imagined…” He quipped, trying to ease your obvious discomfort.

“Not funny.”

“Really though, it’s dark and getting late and this is Gotham.” You eyed him suspiciously, this still probably wasn’t the smartest move on your part, but you relented and motioned for him to follow.

“Don’t make fun of it, I’m a writer not an artist. This is purely for research.” You commented as you passed him the sheet of notebook paper.

“It looks good, I especially like all the little notes about me. Ruggedly handsome? Piercing steel blue eyes?”

Shit. I forgot about those. “Uhm, yeah.” You tried to snatch the paper back, but he could easily keep it from you. “It was research!” Huffing, you remember some of the descriptions were not very complimentary. Watching his eyes scan the page, you tried to explain. “Some of them are just for the character, don’t take it…”

“No, they are all…pretty spot on I’d say.” His voice turned solemn, almost sad, as he passed the paper back to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” he waved it off, picking back up his nonchalant timbre.

The two of you mindless chatted about your favorite books until you arrived at your apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Thanks again…” You had just realized the two of you never exchanged names. “My name’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Jason. I’ll see you around. Try not to stalk anyone else.”

“No promises!” You called out as you entered the apartment.

**

It had been nearly a week, and honestly you didn’t expect to see the stranger again. After all, how would you? No numbers or last names were exchanged. Yet there he was, sitting across from you at the coffee shop, face buried in a book. This man is actually reading in a coffee shop. He looked so out of place compared to all the usual suspects. It would be creepy if I remembered him, right? I’m just going to ignore him. Your plan didn’t last long, as Jason soon came up and sat beside you.

“Stalking anyone new today?”

“Oh, I uhm…no. Writing about you actually…the character! The character not you.” God, you’re so smooth. You thought as you brought your hand up to cover your face.

“So how is assassin me doing today?”

“Honestly? You’re kind of being a bitch. Like how am I supposed to know how you will react if you are refusing to tell me?”

“Uhm…isn’t that the part you’re supposed to make up?”

“No, I made up you…the assassin…now you’re…they’re supposed to tell me what they want to do.”

“Uh huh. Right. You know they aren’t real right? Like I’m not actually a killer prince.”

“Heh, yeah I know. Wouldn’t that be cool though?”

“I just think you’d be assassinated.”

“Ohh, harsh. Though, sadly, I would just be murdered.”

“No, I had it right.” Jason gave you a smirk as he got up from the table and walked out the door.

Did that actually just happen? You quickly gathered your things and threw them into your computer bag, racing after him. “WAIT!” You noticed he had stopped just outside the door and well before you called after him.

“Walking home?”

“Uhm, yeah. Can I ask you some questions first?”

“How about you can ask me questions until we get to your apartment building?”

“Deal.”

It was a short ten-minute walk, but you picked his brain. Giving him situations to see how he would react. This was way easier than you rewriting the scene, or going back and forth for hours before giving up and not writing anything at all. In fact, his reactions were eerily similar to that of your murderous character. You weren’t accidentally copying his life, right?

**

The next time you saw him, you were out with friends at some random bar. He sat there stoically on the bar stool, staring into space. This was so…like if your character had just murdered someone. No, he couldn’t have. Probably just a bad day. You excused yourself from the group of friends and slide in to the stool besides Jason.

“So, Jason, bad day?”

“Oh, Y/N. I didn’t…you’re here.”

“Yeah, I try to have a life sometimes. Albeit very rarely.”

“Hm, well, don’t let me keep you.”

“That’s alright, they are content without me.” You pointed towards a group of people. “And plus, you look like you need some company.”

“…”

“Man, riveting stuff. So, what are you drinking?”

“Whiskey.”

“Just…straight? Alright, spill. Remember I know you.”

“I…just had a bad day at work. I’ll get over it.”

“I’m sure whatever happened wasn’t your fault. Some situations are inevitable.”

“I guess.”

“So what do you do, exactly?”

A sad, solemn smile laced his lips as he got up from the bar. “Another time. Get home safe, Y/N.”

“That wasn’t an answer…” you mumbled as you made your way back to your friends.

**

Just the next day, you were mindless going aisle by aisle in the grocery store, when you feel someone slightly bump into you. You whipped your head around to see the culprit, when what you saw was Jason with a big grin on his face.

“I’m starting to think you never stopped stalking me.”

“If anything, you’re stalking me. This is the closest grocery to my apartment…which you know the address of. I have no clue where you live.”

“Fair enough.” He looked down at the assorted items in your cart, “got a plan for those?”

“Honestly, my version of cooking is throwing some things in a pan and hoping for the best.”

“Hm, well, I could come over and show you some things?”

“Jason, I don’t know your middle or last name, are you offering to cook for me?”

“Peter Todd, and yes, Y/N  Y/M/N  Y/L/N, I am.”

You looked at him with surprise, “See, now who’s stalking who.”

He started to trail off with a smirk, “I’ll be at yours at 6!”

Did that seriously just happen? How did he know my name? Once you were done you raced home to clean. You were so not prepared for guests, with your scratch paper and sticky notes strewn about the apartment. As soon as the clock struck 6, you heard a knock at the door.

**

Jason tried to show you what he’s doing in the kitchen, but you couldn’t care less. You sat on the counter, pretending to listen to the instructions, while sipping on the wine in your hand.

“You’re not retaining any of this, are you?”

“Hmm, not really. But I’m quite enjoying watching you do it.��� You motioned for him to continue preparing the meal.

“Are you just trying to get a free meal?”

“Well, technically I paid for the food, I’m just after the free chef…that was…I meant like after the preparation of the food…not after you…” Shut up Y/N, you are making it worse.

“That’s alright, I’m just after the free writer.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at you before returning to the stove.

“Does cooking always take this long? It’s nearly 7!” You were trying to quickly change the subject and forget the embarrassment you had just endured.

“Calm down, doll, it’s nearly ready. Grab some plates.” You hopped off the counter and took two plates down from the cabinet, placing them next to the stove before sitting at your kitchen island patiently waiting to be served food.

**

“Okay, this is amazing. MAYBE worth the hour wait.”

“Oh well MAYBE I’ll take it back then.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Though both of your plates had been empty for hours, and the mess in the kitchen was staring you in the face, neither of you could seem to move. You found anything and everything to talk about, well almost everything. For some reason he still wouldn’t tell you what he did for a living. Which annoyed you because whatever it was clearly took its toll.

“Okay, fine! Don’t tell me, some big ole secret. I’m beginning to think you actually are an assassin prince and your consciousness just went into mine…so now you’re a character in my book.”

“I guess I’ll just have to read it and let you know.”

You side-eyed him, “You can read it when I find out what you do?” You knew at this point there was no hope in getting an answer.

“Tempting. Perhaps you can tempt me further Wednesday night.” Jason rose from the stool and traipsed over to the door. You quickly followed him, mainly out of sheer confusion.

“What’s Wednesday night?”

“Well, I figure those leftovers will last about two days. Can’t leave you without your free chef.” At this point his face was inches from yours. “I’ll be here at 6.” He whispered as he quickly spun on his heel and left.

[wafflewarriors]

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 11—Bugs (Part 2)

The Winchesters had been generous compared to this guy. If you had been cramped before, this was suffocating. You were in the passenger seat, with a gag pulling tight on your lips.

To even consider fighting against him was a joke.

Your nose flared as you breathed heavily—as it was taking all your focus not to puke all over yourself and the van (considering you had a gag in your mouth—gross). 

You grimaced, tteeth grinding against the wet rag. Your headache was killer, and even though this was supposed to be a traumatizing event, you could feel yourself on the verge of passing out. 

You sure put the nap in 'kidnapped'.

The Winchesters had probably found your little crime scene already. They both were as quick as a whip, so it wouldn't be long until they figured it all out and came for you. That is, if you were important enough to look for.

You'd like to believe you were a little more valuable than a map to find John, now. You had planted your little hints—little bits of the future for them to digest. That had to be enough to intrigue anyone. Especially the Winchesters.

It would be stupid on their end to just let you go.

The van lurched to a stop and you threw your eyes open, not even realizing they'd drifted shut.

You were so tired.

Your vision was fuzzy and it hurt your head to squint into the night. You were miserable. But you watched as the demon left, and you did a double take as he walked over to a familiar vehicle, instead.

That's my car.

It was enough to get you to press your face closer to the window. A figure emerged from behind the car. 

Meg.

You watched, dumbfounded, as she approached the demon. Didn’t she first appear in Scarecrow? That was at least a few episodes away.

You tensed as she pointed in your direction. The other demon nodded, approaching the van again.

What are they saying about me? 

When he threw open the car door, you fell with it, falling down onto the gravel without any way to break your fall.

“Well,” Meg scoffed, kicking at you, "this is disappointing. This is supposed to be 'the one'? She’s a twig.”

Other Demon™ wrenched you upward—seriously, could we please stop with all the sudden movements?—and ripped the gag from your mouth. It left a line of saliva down your chin, but you were too miserable to care. 

You snorted. “Angels tell you that? Because they never lie.”

Other threw your back into the van, and your vision grayed out.

Shit.

You blacked out—only long enough for your knees to buckle, and for you to choke under Other's iron hold—and then you were back. You were barely able to shuffle back on your feet, sputtering.

The ringing in your ears was gradually drowned out by a buzzing, and everyone paused. 

“You,” you coughed wetly, “hear that too?”

Everyone turned to watch as a great swarm blocked out the moon and stars, and you barely had enough conscience to feel fear.

Bugs.

You slid down the side of the van, alone.

Light swam over the area. The buzzing faded.

Was it them?

Shouting. Shouting and light.

Had they come for you?

You felt your eyelids flutter.

You shuddered, sobbing into the dirt when you couldn’t move.

Your panic attack still crushed your lungs as you were forcefully shaken, and, terrified, you gawked into the green eyes of a cross Dean Winchester.

You tried to push him away, but he just pinned you down, scowling and shouting some more.

“—drove—?”

"—what else—?—is there—"

“—her—all we know—”

"—did you—left—should have—"

They were talking about you, but you couldn’t give a damn.

You were so so tired.

"—concuss—"

"—don't let—"

"—know!"

"—dead?"

"—!—"

Without warning, the light around you brightened to become one blindingly white abyss. When you blinked, Dean's face was all but gone, replaced by Castiel.

"Where am I?" you asked. There was no pain. Where had your pain gone?

"Heaven," he said. He left you no time for questions before his hand reached up, caressing—

You woke abruptly to a hard slap on your face.

You gasped—you could breathe!—and your eyes shot open. 

Your headache had melted away, your aches were no more, and the rings of torn flesh around your wrists were gone, as well as your handcuffs.

You were healed.

You blinked, feeling weirdly refreshed as you looked past Dean, as if to catch a glimpse of Castiel behind him. But there was nothing. Meg was gone. Other was gone. There was just a wash of light over gravel where they had all been.

“Whatcha' looking at?”

You looked him dead in the eyes and answered, “A bitch.”

Dean frowned. “Funny,” he said, wrenching you up by the arm and pulling you away from the van. “Thought you were dead for a good minute there." 

“Not dead,” you replied, "but that was horrible."

“I don’t know, it looked like fun.”

You rolled your eyes. Asshole.

Dean still had you by the arm, pulling you toward Sam, who emerged from behind your car.

"Entire car was invested," said Sam as he approached, your bag in his hands. "Got us some weapons, though."

Sam dropped the bag and out rolled the jar of peanut butter and your loaf of bread, which was crawling with bugs.

The last of my food.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Peanut butter and bread? You live like this?" He kicked the bag away like it was repulsive.

Well, screw you too, Dean.

"Also…" Sam trailed off as he grabbed a weapon. The angel blade. "What is this?"

"It's a knife," you said innocently.

Sam's expression pinched. "Yeah, I can see that," he said. "I mean, what does it do? What is it made of? And can it kill you?"

How ironic, considering you'd died a minute ago (or… you were pretty sure, anyway). It clearly didn't take much to kill you, and that blade wouldn't be an exception.

But they didn't need to know that.

"We could always just see for ourselves." Dean shrugged when you didn't reply.

You snapped at him, "If you wanted to, you'd have done it already. You need me alive." Man, you were beginning to sound like the typical monster. That was depressing. "And it's just a fancy knife. I stole it, okay?"

"You stole our gun too," Sam said as he pulled out their gun from your backpack. "And our dad's journal. You’re quite the thief."

You scoffed. "You're one to talk, Mr.CreditCardFraud. You both love to judge me for everything you guys do daily."

Sam's expression hardened. "Oh, right, because we kill innocents and work with demons."

You gaped at him. "Are you kidding me? You thought that entire kidnapping was me working with them?!" You were on the verge of hysteria. "And I'm sure you thought all those restraints were just funhousing, right? Good times with my demonic pals?"

"Not sure what you're talking about."

You frowned. "I mean just now. Big, burly guy? Ring any bells?" You didn't feel like mentioning Meg.

"Uh… no. Nobody was here but you."

You blinked.

What.

You glanced between the two of them. “But… there was sulfur left behind, wasn’t there?”

“Doesn’t mean anything," Dean denied.

"Because you think I'm a demon. Then why haven't you tested me with holy water yet?"

"We did. Earlier. When I knocked you out. But just because it didn't burn you, doesn't mean you're not something else."

"Either I left the sulfur, or I didn't. You can't simultaneously believe I'm a demon and something else," you said, exasperated.

"Watch me."

"The van, then. The demon drove the van.”

"You hotwired it," he said easily. "See, you left a ton of blood behind—definitely enough to kill a person, mind you. When we found you, you still had blood pooling out of your stomach. And then, magically, you healed. Not a scratch on you."

Blood pooling from your..? What were they talking about? He was exaggerating, probably.

You could see where he was going. And it wasn't helping your case. "Do a blood test, then. That blood on the sidewalk won’t match with mine."

Dean leaned back, tilting his head in consideration before nodding to Sam. "Fine." 

Sam reached over, slammed the handcuffs back on your wrists, and lifted you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. 

“Kinky," you wheezed.

Sam ignored you.

You couldn’t deny that you kinda had a good view of that booty though… and his toned back and broad shoulders.

Not the time, brain. Shut up. 

Sam threw you in the Impala, and it was deja vu. Back at square one.

Slumping into the seat, you took some time to reflect.

Had you hallucinated Meg and Other?

No, you couldn't have. How else could you explain finding your car? How else could you explain the hallucinations, other than from the brain damage you got from Other repeatedly bashing your poor head on walls and sidewalks?

Your memories were a garbled mess. Like a dream confused with reality.

Then there was the whole heaven thing. Had he interfered? Was the light—instead of headlights—actually Heaven saving you? You lingered on the idea. That meant Castiel was looking out for you, at least.

There were so many things you couldn't explain yourself, much less to the Winchesters.

And Sam… Sam was going to be a hassle.

Older Sam would have tried to understand you by now. He was more level-headed. Monsters weren't all black and white in his eyes—mostly because he knew what being the monster was like.

But this Sam? He was so freaking young. Naive, grieving, and angry. Not to mention, he blamed you for the death of his girlfriend, which was setting him back on his ability to empathize with you. He absolutely hated you.

After all, instead of evidence to prove your innocence, the Winchesters instead kept finding the complete opposite. Every good deed you did was tainted by either the heaven's bloodthirsty intervention, or just your own naiveté. 

Your guilt was climbing so high that you were beginning to agree with the Winchesters. You were the monster—I mean, look at all the times I'd screwed up!

Your presence was killing people. Whether it was your intention or not.

You sighed.

Sam was twirling the angel blade in the car, getting a feel for the weapon. He said, “You know, when I said you were 'working with demons', I actually meant the one from a few weeks ago—the Bloody Mary case."

"You mean the demon I killed? Because that totally sounds like I was scheming with demons.”

Sam paused. "You killed it with this knife, right?"

You went quiet. Damn.

He twirled it again. "Thought so. So it is more than a 'fancy knife'. Makes me wonder what else you're lying about."

"As if you wouldn't be lying your head off if you were in my position. I forgot how honest you two are." You snorted. "You two have no problem lying to each other. Like, seriously? Dean, you lied to Sam about the demon knowing about Jessica's death. On your, what, fourth hunt with him since he'd gone to college?"

Hypocrites. Both of them.

The statement made Sam squint. "How the hell would you ever know?"

"Uh, I was with you? On the plane?" Anxiety pooled in your stomach.

"No, you vanished into thin air before that conversation ever happened," Dean accused. "Another reason to believe you aren't human."

"I have my sources." Sources. Right. What sources?

"And what the hell are your sources?"

Supernatural, you wanted to say, the television show that ruined my life. But how could you tell them that?

You couldn't tell them you were a demon, either. Not only because you weren't—but that would just spell out a whole lot of trouble for you. Not to mention they now possessed your angel blade.

And you most definitely couldn't tell them the truth.

So you did the insane.

"I'm psychic."

///

Tags: @megamindsdespondentcousin​ @depressedunicorn43​ , @rosaren2498​ , @pillowjj​ , @busy-bee-angel-misska​ , @elliotts-world​ , @dagnylokisdottir​ , @omg-we-really-doo​ , @millieccino​ , @regainedworld , @badgal-jackie​ , @postcardsfromliterallynowhere​ , @super-calithehamm​ , @teresa-67​ , @ofthedewthesunlight​ , @dream-believe-and-love​ 

[artiesjam]

docs decided to be homophobic and delete the last five paragraphs of my fic so i had to rewrite it but

(ao3) here’s the second chapter of my fic, arrow straight to my heart.

tag list: @thedepthsofhell @nickalicious @thedragonemperess @willex-owns-my-heart @that-one-newsie

Whenever Willie had gone into the forest yesterday to forage for fruits, they hadn’t expected to meet a boy. Nonetheless, a hurt and very cute boy.

Willie couldn’t be expected to just leave him there?

Flynn wasn’t impressed. She believed that it was because Willie was simply too kind to just let people go, which honestly, wasn’t completely a lie. They were a kind soul at heart. Flynn couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that. Yet, she hadn’t exactly said no to letting him stay either so for the next day, Willie had been Alex’s shadow. They were hovering and looking to see if anything was infected or checking to see if there were any uncovered scars Alex had failed to mention.

“You know, I’m probably fine now.” The blonde shifted in position to get more comfortable before letting out a harsh seething sound. “I’ll believe it when you stop wincing every time you move your body.” Willie protested back before checking the gash once more. Even though they weren’t anymore, they used to be a medic in the town. They knew when people weren’t fine. But the boy only insisted otherwise. “Okay, okay, but can I at least get let off bed rest tomorrow?” Alex’s bottom lip formed a perfect pout and his eyes twinkled with a hopeful glint in them. Willie couldn’t resist.

That’s how the pair ended up sitting in Flynn’s archery shop scrubbing the counter and sorting the arrows. “I thought you said I could be let off bed rest.” Alex complained, scrubbing the counters in a haste. “Well, you aren’t in bed, are you? Besides, I have someone I want you to meet.” They wiggle their eyebrows playfully, earning a chuckle from the blonde.

That small laugh was enough to convince Willie that Alex was probably the most amazing person they’d ever meet. He was just so vibrant and vivid and he brought color to the dim world that Willie hadn’t even noticed was so dark until now. They were enamored by everything he did.

They soon jumped out of their daydream when their head snapped to the sound of the shop door opening. There, standing in the doorway, was Flynn with a bucket of fresh apples, varying from green to red. She was tired out and her fingers were littered with small scratches. Yet, her exhausted expression changed when she noticed them and the state of the shop. Willie watched as her eyes darted between the two before opening her mouth to speak. “I wasn’t aware I hired new workers. But hello!” She stuck out her hand towards Alex who quickly took it with no hesitation. “I’m Flynn and as you probably already know, This is William, my employee and also part–roommate here.” It wasn’t the same tone that she used normally when behind the counter and on-shift. It was softer and more comfortable. It made sense though considering Alex spent the last half-hour scrubbing the majority of the shop with Willie.

“Nice to know, Flynn.” Alex exclaimed before stepping back a couple steps and letting Flynn place the basket on a nearby table. Once settled into the shop, Alex didn’t wait to start asking questions. Willie found it cute how his mouth would curl upwards every few seconds and how he would rotate his delicate fingers over the arrows as he asked about each one.

And shit.

They were falling. Hard.

——

Alex was already asleep so Willie took the time to sneak upstairs so they could clear their head. Yet, they were only met with a smirking Flynn.

“Hey, loverboy.”

She teased, leaning against the pristine counter that she must’ve recleaned since they were up here earlier that day.

“I am not a–” Willie started their protest but stopped abruptly when Flynn’s smirk turned into a heinous grin. The archer groaned and slapped a hand over their face to hide their red cheeks. “God was I that obvious?!”

Flynn walked over to them and nodded. Once they were arms-length apart, she patted their back sympathetically. “Yes, yes you were. You, William, are a terrible liar.”

“It’s not that I’m a bad liar. I’m just slightly bad at putting on a poker face.” Willie quipped back, sitting on the counter, and earning a groan from Flynn. “C’mon, I just washed that. I don’t need your ass on it.” Willie chuckled but they didn’t oblige. “I’m not doing any harm.” Flynn let out one last groan before moving towards Willie and hitting their elbow with a wet towel. “You don’t know how much I hate you.” She scrunched her nose and Willie did it back. “You love me.”

Flynn couldn’t protest that one.

——

The next morning, Willie learned a new fact about Alex. He looked adorably cute with bed hair.

“Stop staring.” Alex pointed out, an intoxicating grin forming on his lips. “I’m not.” It was a complete lie. Willie knew that they were staring but they didn’t ever divert their eyes. That just made Alex grin more. “So, anything I should know about you other than the fact that you have a weird staring fixation?” Willie chuckled before scratching their brunette locks, almost as if they were trying to search for answers. They stopped the motion when they realized Alex was staring at them doing it.

“Uhm, I do archery, which you probably already figured, I’m non-binary, I used to be a town medic, and I have ADHD.” Willie spoke sheepishly.

Alex looked at them as if he was drinking in all the information. His expression changed from an upbeat smile to solemn in a matter of seconds and Willie wished they were a mind reader so they could see what was rushing through Alex’s head at that moment.

He answered the question before Willie could think more about it when he whispered a low, “I wish I could do that much stuff.”

Despite them being alone in the room, Alex still brought his voice lower and Willie couldn’t help but reciprocate the action when they whispered back, “What did you do? Y’know before you met me?”

Suddenly, Alex’s face went red and he looked down, temporarily breaking their eye contact, before looking back up. His eyes had that far too familiar twinkle in it and Willie attempted to not die on the spot there.

After seconds or maybe minutes of silence, Willie realized that he wasn’t in a rush to reply and Willie wasn't going to push. They liked the comfortable silence they were in. Until, it wasn’t silent anymore. A soft and faint knock on the door broke them from whatever moment they were having. Willie scooted back, maybe out of shock or maybe just because it felt like the reasonable thing to do. Alex moved too, turning their inch difference into now a few feet.

“Come in.” Willie spoke after a beat, voice slightly broken. After the confirmation that it was okay to come in, Flynn appeared from the other side of the door. She was wearing a leather corset, a gold nose piercing, with equally gold strands braided into her hair. “Was I interrupting something?” She questioned. Willie just shook their head and forced out a cough to ease the suffocating tension. “Okay, good, because I need to talk to Alex about something.” Flynn wasted no time in grabbing Alex’s wrist and tugging him away out of the room. She flashed a grin on her way out the door but Willie couldn’t pay any mind to it. Their head was too clouded with thoughts.

Were they having some sort of moment?