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virgil-writes · 3 years ago

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ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 12 - cabin fever

SFW, around 5K words.

chapter 13 - liebchen (ao3 only, smut)

The sheets underneath him were worn but comfortable, ancient-looking in design but well taken care of. The bed frame is barely there, mattress a well-placed lattice away from being on the floor. He can’t remember the last time he’s been on a bed, the last time he’d laid his body down at all, for any reason. His back complains every other second, not because of the comfort of the bedding, but because it had gone without for so long. A wonderfully comfortable blanket covers him up to the hips, the soft mattress almost makes him feel like he is floating. Fuck, he really missed having a proper bed now.

He inspects himself carefully, still not fully convinced this is not a fever-induced hallucination. His hand is where it should be, and so is his leg, and every other part of his body that he recalled having before. There are half a dozen new scars that he can count, all healed over perfectly like they’d opened years ago instead of hours, forming a map of stories he would rather not tell. He is shirtless but is wearing pants now, his trench coat and hat nowhere to be found. He pushes the blanket aside to find the damn woolen slippers waiting for him on a woven rug. It doesn’t take him long to realize where he is, but nothing resembles her, no personal belongings on the nightstand, no desk or mirror or even a dresser. It looked as if the room was rarely visited, kept clean but empty, and he wondered if sleep was a foreign concept to her, too.

Hesitant, tentative movements take him down the ladder and into the living room, and he expects to find her hard at work at something or another, humming a tune while she cooks, petting the goat and telling it asinine, cutesy things in a soft voice. But the house is silent and she is nowhere to be found, the dog sits in front of the closed front door and watches his every move. It is not aggressive but watchful, like it had been given the task of keeping an eye on the ailing man and alerting his owner in case anything was amiss.

“I’m fine, fleabag.” He laughs at the dog and gets a huff in response, an acknowledgment, and the shepherd moves from its post at the door to give him passage if he so desires. Heisenberg gives it a well deserved pat on the head as it passes by, tail wagging hesitantly as it tried to make friends with him. He is glad to be alone - if anyone ever used this against him, he would deny it.

A plate awaits him at the dinner table, and despite his intentions of running out of there before she could see him again, breakfast is an offer he cannot bring himself to refuse. Bread and jam, a robust omelet served with sprinkles of cheese and herbs. He can almost see the aroma the coffee has left behind, and finds the pot on the side of the wood stove, cup and saucer set for him nearby.

He eats slowly and in silence, chews thoroughly before swallowing, as if he fears some abrupt movement would rip reality apart and throw him back into the pit of suffering he found himself in the night before. There is no blood, no pain; no sign of the madness he had come so close to drowning in. He is safe and comfortable, there is good food in his belly and a warm hearth to keep the cold at bay. His problems are far and cannot catch him, and maybe if he keeps stalling to finish breakfast he can stay in this bliss forever. The world is quiet outside, and so are his thoughts, for once in his life.

A shirt and sweater are neatly folded and arranged as to call attention on the couch, no doubt to replace his blood-stained, ragged trench coat. He feels naked without it, he muses as he pulls the moss-colored shirt over his head, and it feels awkward not to wear the hat and the glasses. It would be unpleasant if she were to catch him now, free of his usual regalia; he felt that she would see right through him, stare deep into his eyes and find out all he had worked so hard to hide.

He did not feel like Karl Heisenberg, Lord of the Village, powerful mutant capable of unspeakable acts of violence. He was… Karl, middle-aged immortal man who enjoyed tinkering, was a big fan of meat an potatoes and didn’t know what to do when he had time to waste in his hands. Karl, of German origin but Romanian by birth, come from a long line of miners and steel workers. People of few words and fewer luxuries, hardy of constitution and blunt to a fault. He had been content to be those things and nothing more, to carry on what the Heisenbergs had done for centuries, until life dumped him on his head and led him to where he is today.

But not today, because maybe just today he can forget, and let his gracious host distract him with her mystery and the delicate curves of her buttocks. Perhaps tomorrow he would go back to treating her like a tool he would use and discard, but today she would be none the wiser, and neither would he. The fresh air of the mountain and distance from the cramped confines of the factory would do him good, he decided, help reinvigorate his spirit and refresh his ideas, spark some inspiration. And if not, well, the food was excellent and she was easy on the eyes.

A pair of boots that didn’t belong to him were by the door, just the right size to fit him. He had walked all the way up barefoot, he remembers, but he would very much like to know how she seemed to have everything that he needed readily available. Was she clairvoyant alongside being a healer? Did she bleed money that she could buy information on him from the Duke and the apparel to go with it? He opened the door to find her outside, looking like the cat that ate the canary, a couple meters away from the gate that separated her plot of land from the heart of the forest. She had just emerged from amongst the trees, heavy coat over her shoulders and leather boots to keep the ice off her feet. Her hands were free, no basket for foraging or firewood in her arms. No sign of a knife or any other kind of weapon, but judging by the look on her face, he could swear she had just committed murder. Her eyes told him she would not speak of it.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” he began, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, at least trying to fish an explanation out of her. Instead she pretended to forget the suspicious circumstances and focused on him instead, her face lighting up at the sight of him up and about, like she didn’t expect to see him anytime soon. Had it been that bad?

“Good morning, my lord. Are you well?” Shame and madness aside, he thought, things were going swimmingly. “I hope the accommodations were to your liking.” Once again with the pleasantries, with the caring for what he thought of her hospitality. Did she get a kick out of being so kind? That was the most foolish thing he had ever heard. He tried to come up with a witty response that would catch her off guard, but the night had been long and there was too much tiredness swamping his mind, and all he got was honesty:

“Quite. Hadn’t slept in a bed in decades.” As if to validate his words, he stretched and grunted in approval, pains he did not even realize he’d had gone like magic.

“Well, it remains at your disposal,” was her response as she chuckled, wiping her hands on the embroidered apron before gesturing an invitation. There was dirt on her palms. “It may not be much, but it’ll give you a good night’s rest.” She motioned for him to follow, something he would grow accustomed to.

“You know,” he began, following her into the shed, accepting the shallow basket she handed him. “I bet it’d be even better if you were there with me.” She hummed in approval, a smile as devious as his on her face. The damn woman would always catch him off guard; Heisenberg was not used to being flirted with, words thrown about only half-seriously, only to make the villagers blush and Alcina mad. He had never followed up on any of it, because it was always meant to annoy, and the fact that she not only took him seriously but fired back pulled the rug right from under him. And boy did he like it.

They laughed but spoke no more of it, tension like static in the air, both fully aware the joke had more than a few nuggets of truth to it. A dozen different scenarios ran through his mind, on ways he could take her, mark her, ruin her. Inside the shed, behind the stables, propped on the porch railing. Standing, face pressed against the floor, legs tightly wrapped around his waist. She smirked as she passed by him, smirked like she could tell every image that went through his mind. Smirked like she knew he would not do any of it, that his flirting was just a front and he had never found the courage to take the plunge, not even once. Her wink was the cherry on the cake, the challenge that made his cheeks flush at just the right moment so that she wouldn’t see it.

The morning was spent tending to the animals and the garden, and she instructed him on how to feed the chickens and keep the tiny goat happy. Its name was Prince and it demanded to be treated like royalty, lest the puny humans faced his wrath and for now adorable headbutts. The thing followed him around the whole time, demanded his attention when he collected the eggs from the coop, when he let the horse out of the stable to let it stretch its legs. Only when the weather took a turn for the worse did it scurry off to hide in the pens with its mom, settling down on a nice and dry bundle of hay.

He was put in charge of firewood while she tended the garden. The innuendos were kept to a minimum, but the static never left, and he felt her eyes heavy on him as he brought the axe down, muscles flexing and veins showing on his forearms with the effort. Maybe he ought to do more housework around her, and she’d come around and do his bidding without hesitation.

When the wind blew away his hat, Heisenberg realized there would be no going back to the factory unless he hurried. The storm had been mounting for days now, but he had never been one to pay much attention to the tells of weather; he rarely left his hideout, and with the factory being mostly underground, he would be trapped inside for a few days at best. He had perhaps half an hour for a journey that would take him one or two under such bad weather, and he would have to be lucky for the bridge to hold if it got too bad. She wasted little time paying attention to his inner turmoil, and went about securing the animals instead, making sure they had food, water and a warm place to spend the night. Snow was falling fast by the time she was done, and she ushered him in when he’d stood there too long, snow coming up to his shins already. They brushed off as much as they could on the porch before heading inside, water dripping down their shoulders. There was a long pause as they both watched the storm come down through the living room window, a knowing silence that the day would be long, and the night longer, and neither would be leaving that cabin for at least the next day.

“Well, it seems the bed is yours for the night again, my lord,” were her words as she bolted the door, a hint of joy in her voice. He imagined it was a lonely existence, secluded in the mountains and feared by all, not part of any community and especially not theirs. She always seemed so happy to see him, to see another human whose first instinct wasn’t to attack her. He would pity her if he cared, if his existence wasn’t equally as lonesome, if he hadn’t fashioned it to be exactly what he wished. He’d never needed anyone yapping about everything and nothing in his ears, interrupting his work and diverting his attention from what really mattered. Alcina was insane to have taken in the girls, really; children sounded like an exhausting chore that never ended. He never understood why she always looked so content in spite of it all. His mother always told him one day he would understand, he would want to keep someone close, and then he would want someone else just like them to cherish and love, to teach and share the good and bad moments. He would turn a hundred soon and never quite felt like it; maybe in another hundred years?

His only answer was a lopsided smile, tired and sad, and he tried to brace for the barrage of questions and comments that were certain to come. She was trapped inside her living space with the stranger who emerged from the guts of the forest, come from a village rife with death, where he was sovereign save for Mother dearest. He was the favorite son and the most powerful, gifted with strength and wits and influence and power. Those he could not talk down he could easily buy out, and those he could not buy out he could easily destroy. He was a fabled recluse and rumors ran rampant of the work he’d conduct in his factory, of treasures he kept deep underground. It would be a long day, the first in forever that he would spend so close to another breathing, talking human, and he did not know what to expect aside from a lot of chit-chat and a mounting headache. Surely she would like to know all about him, now that he couldn’t run away from her. Surely she would pry into his motives, pepper in questions about his siblings and the village. A thousand smug answers he conjured in his mind, each snappier than the other, every retort a question thrown back at her. It was only fair, of course; she had thrown much at him, bits and pieces of improbabilities that he couldn’t put together, and if she intended on digging deep, he would do the same.

To his surprise, all she did was leave her boots behind next to him and proceed to ignore him, going about her daily life like he was of no consequence. He found himself stunned, rooted in front of the door with a puzzled expression on his face. She looked at him as if to say well, this is it, make yourself at home and enjoy the day, and once again the domesticity of it all broke him more than words could ever have. He felt weird as he reached for the papers he had brought with him the night before, tucked next to the myriad of books on her shelf. They remained silent when he took a seat at the table and pushed open the schematics to get a better look at them, the potted plant centerpiece serving as a paper weight so he could work properly.

First, she dusted the shelves, reorganized her herb cabinet and found a place for his hat. The curtains were drawn and she took a peek outside, checking on the pens and the stable to make sure the animals would have a comfortable enough day. Then she bound off to a corner of the living room, producing a basket with threads and fabric, yarn and needles that she brought over to the couch. She sat cross-legged, close to the fire, and only spared him a brief glance before tending to her needlework. He felt weird as he reached for the papers he had brought with him the night before, tucked next to the myriad of books on her shelf. They remained silent when he took a seat at the table and pushed open the schematics to get a better look at them, the potted plant centerpiece serving as a paper weight so he could work properly. The first few minutes were nerve-racking, his paranoia telling him he would look away and find her peering curiously over his shoulder, trying to steal away his secrets to use against him as leverage. He read the same words again and again only to realize he hadn’t understood them, eyes turning to her every minute to make sure she still hadn’t moved. She caught him eventually, eyebrow raised in his direction as she tried to make sense of the situation, mouth turning into an “oh” as she jumped off the couch and stood on the tips of her toes to reach the very top of the bookshelf. A minute later and she had brought him a candle and holder, a half-empty box of matches in her other hand. She stood at the other end of the table and pushed it in his direction, still not curious regarding his work, but figuring that, even in daylight, the cabin was dark and he likely was not used to doing things by candlelight. It took him a moment to process and bring the light closer, shocked as he was to see that she intended to leave him to his own devices but cared about his comfort.

The hours were a blur then, when he convinced himself she would not surprise him, and his suspicions were correct; a change of environment had done wonders for his creativity, solutions jumping at him paper after paper, a multitude of new projects and ideas for him to try once he was back at the factory. He can’t remember the last time he had been so productive, the last time he had folded everything in and told himself he was done for the day, because he had done more than enough. She had brought him tea and bread at some point and he had eaten absentmindedly, crumbs and drops of jam staining the papers, but he could not bring himself to care. After tea she had brought him coffee, and then a jug of water, and while he felt a bit like a caged animal being fed periodically, it did wonders to keep his work flowing.

Night had already fallen when he finally took a break, got up to stretch his legs and look around to see just what she had been doing this whole time. Her crafts basket was back in its place, a sock taking shape on the needles. A book abandoned where she was sitting instead, the little witch nowhere near it. Instead she was busy preparing dinner, swaying her hips to a tune but quiet as a mouse, like she was going out of her way to give him peace and quiet. He appreciated it, try as he might to deny it, how she cared without meddling, made herself present but not intruding.

Maybe he should hire her to be his assistant, help him organize the half-done office he had begun building on the upper floors of the factory. She certainly would be great at helping him keep his affairs in order - and by that he meant she would keep him fed, mostly, the one thing he kept forgetting to do and that always set him back. He could provide her with something better than this, surely, her very own quarters with modern wonders such as electricity and proper plumbing, a bathroom of her own, maybe even a fridge. Had she ever seen a fridge before? He imagined she would decorate the place with all manner of silly things that would only serve to gather dust, knickknacks and wreaths and woven things, and that it would smell of flowers and fresh-baked bread. Her responsibilities would include housekeeping and Heisenkeeping - organizing his papers so he wouldn’t lose them, keeping track of all of the family meetings he had to attend, dealing with the Duke for supplies so he wouldn’t have to. He’d reward her handsomely, give her days off, be a good employer unlike his parents had been. Not a bad plan, if he did say so himself.

He had only forgotten to factor in that she was, still, a powerful, self-described blood witch. He had been entertaining himself with the thoughts of having her around as he watched her prepare dinner; she’d gone hunting in the morning, he realized, two hares hanging upside down from an iron ring. She took one down to place it at the cutting board, its insides clean but pelt still intact. He had no doubt she would be skilled at skinning it; when one lives as long as she has with no contact with the outside world, such skills are necessary for survival. What he did not expect was the way she’d go about it: a firm hand grabbed a handful of fur, gave it a gentle twist and pulled, effortlessly, the entire thing coming off in her hand, no cuts and no tears, neck and head and all. He could see the knife from where he was sitting, placed blade down into the ceramic jug.

Heisenberg bent forward to see better when she did it the second time around, and it was as unexplainable and horrifying as the first. Gross but humane, like she simply coaxed the skin to slide right off the flesh. If the thing had been alive, he imagined it would have been quite painful, a whole human suit in her hand and living flesh left behind. The thought almost makes him gag, a disgusted sound escaping his lips and making her realize she’s not alone. She slowly turns to face him with a sheepish smile, like a child caught red-handed. “Pretend you didn’t see that?” She offers, but he shakes his head no. Not in a million years he would forget the sheer brutality of it. He waits but she doesn’t explain it, goes back to making dinner like nothing had happened.

“Could you do that to something… Bigger, darling?” He approaches her slowly, like a predator carefully stalking its prey, though he feels far from a position of power at the moment. She nods her head yes. “Like, say, a good ole’ human?” He whispers in her ear, a shiver running down her spine at the sudden intrusion and hot breath against her skin, flirting his go-to attempt at getting back the reigns of any situation.

“Want me to test it on you, my lord?” She quips in the same whisper tone, and he is wise enough to back off for now.

“Think I’ll pass.” Before he can run back to his seat, she hands him the smaller, bone-bladed knife and pushes a bowl of potatoes towards him, the sudden motion startling him and eliciting a chuckle out of her. Looks like he’ll have to earn his keep. For a while they work shoulder to shoulder in peaceful silence, save for his grunts of frustration at not being able to peel a potato successfully. It’s been a long time. “You ought to show me what you can do one of these days. I’m awful curious.” She considers it for a second, head moving left and right, knife following the movement.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” and she doesn’t mean metal bending and knife juggling, he knows. He can’t think of a reason why she would want to see him, truly see him, monstrous appearance and all, but if that’s the price to pay, he’ll gladly do it. It would be good for his ego, too, that priceless look on her face as he shifts into the stuff of nightmares.

There are no more gruesome sneak peeks for the night and soon the stew is ready, he helps set the table and she finds a bottle of wine she’d stashed away for a rainy day. She explains over dinner that he was quite feverish when he arrived, and it’s a wonder he made it through the night. He truly was sturdy, no ifs or buts about it, she said in appreciation. There were cuts and bruises all over him, all shapes and sizes, like he’d fallen through glass. Did he have an accident at the factory? There was genuine concern in her voice, though they both knew that she knew better.

His curiosity gets the better of him and he experiments with a few questions, each answer leaving him further in the dark. How old was she? Somewhere around a hundred and thirty. She remembers being old enough to read around 1902, when she saw the date on a newspaper she fished out of the gutter, but beyond that time was either a blur or she’d been too young to remember. Where did she come from? Not a clue, but she’s been around: she’s seen Italian castles, been to centuries old British pubs. She’s seen the Brandenburg Gate and visited Chateau de Versailles. She’s bathed in the beautiful waters of the Greek coast, made a pilgrimage to the volcanic beaches of Iceland. She’s never made it past the ocean to the Americas or down to the warmer climates of Africa, but time has never been an issue, and she figures she’ll get to it eventually. He asks her why all the wandering, is someone after her? Her breath hitches and her eyes lower, shoulders slump, a deep breath before the replies. Something like that, and he understands maybe it’s best if he doesn’t push.

They returned to the topic of his feverish display once dinner was over, with her cautioning that he had been lucky this time around, lucky that she was home, lucky that he even made it across the bridge and found his way home. Home, her use of the word is deliberate and strokes something warm and fuzzy within him. Disgusting. There was the matter of the shard, he took a sit on the couch as she reached into a drawer to pull out a bundle of clean cloth, and he feigns confusion when she unwraps it to reveal a piece of metal shaped similar to an arrowhead. He recognized it, the shavings of a project he had worked on… Maybe a year ago? It’d been sticking out through his ribs when he arrived, she said, and it looked anything but recent; infection had taken around it, skin red and swollen. She could see that it was agonizingly painful - had he not noticed it at all?

“Ah, so that’s what it was.” He blurted without really meaning to, a humorless chuckle that left her confused. “I’d been feeling this weird poke in my ribs for the longest time - thought I’d broken something.” He shrugs and she nods, clearly aware of their peculiar situations, perhaps now beginning to comprehend just how many layers of fucked up he was made of. “You’re a miracle worker, doll.” His fingers instinctively trace over the spot where the shard had been, nothing there but a scar that had healed remarkably well. “How can I ever repay you?”

Money, gems, jewelry? She didn’t strike him as the materialistic kind. No, she was all about the meaningful gestures, the showing of kindness. There were a few ways he could think of showing his appreciation - slamming her body against the wall to press a hard kiss on her lips, a nice, firm tug on her hair as he nibbled on her neck. Or maybe something softer if she was so inclined, more romantic even, like a well-placed, resounding slap on her ass cheek. “I’ll be sure to think of something, my lord.” Was the answer she gave, though he was sure she meant something else entirely judging by the way she let her coat slide off to reveal her bare shoulders as she set about getting ready for bed. Her hands gathered more and more of her skirt until it’d reached the middle of her thighs, delicate lace adorning the band of her stockings, tiny suspenders disappearing from sight but serving to peak his curiosity. She undid the hooks that kept it in place, fingers threatening to roll the garment down agonizingly slow. Instead she turned to look at her enraptured audience, the pose propping her ass up and so close to his hands. He had thought it had all been an act, carefully orchestrated to put him on edge, but the gasp of surprise she let out told him otherwise. “I am so sorry, my lord.” She quickly let go of it all and stood up straight, a flush running across her face. “I am not used to having visitors.”

“You needn’t stop on account of little ole’ me, darling.” He is quick to say, rich laughter that filled the room with mischief. Heisenberg sprawls further onto the couch, legs parting like an invitation. Best seat in the house, in the whole village even. “I did enjoy it.”

When it was time to say goodnight, he kept his composure and even helped her move one of the pillows and blanket down the ladder. If his mother were alive she would chastise him for not being a gentleman, for not refusing vehemently to let her sleep on an uncomfortable couch instead of her own bed. But the day was over and so were the pleasantries, and he would have to take the time to cleanse her off his mind, ease himself back into his usual mindset. She was impossibly alluring, impossibly annoying, impossibly loving. There was no figuring her out and it seemed there would be no delving deeper in. Playtime was over and it was back to work tomorrow as soon as she storm had passed. He needed to shed away her kindness before it managed to ooze under his skin, but she had no intention of making it any easier on him.

“Here you go,” Heisenberg had no time to stand on ceremony, shoved the pillow in her direction and flashed her a smile to keep up appearances, mind wandering somewhere else, somewhere where he did not care about her. It was better this way. “Good night, sweetheart.”

Even though he tried, he never truly reached that fabled place where she was of no importance. Not that he would ever acknowledge it.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #virgil writes

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im-fairly-whitty · 5 years ago

Note

If you're still taking prompts for the witcher wolf fics, may I suggest Jaskier and Geralt using the wolf transformation to sneak Geralt through a castle where he's been forbidden to go, with a side of Geralt taking advantage of his form to act like a cursed fae horror again, like when he killed the bandits?

So clearly this got away from me a bit. Enjoy part 1 of 6 my friend.

In Plain Sight

Chapter 1: Into the Fire

“What if Calenthe doesn’t even let us near her?” Jaskier asked, tipping another log into their campfire as it crackled in the darkness. “I’ve been welcome enough at Ciri’s birthday parties over the years, but not even the princess’ fondness for me will temper the queen’s anger if she so much as remembers you and I know each other.”

“Calenthe has to listen to us, Cirilla is our child surprise.” Geralt said grimly from where he lay on their bedroll, propped up on one elbow under the blanket as he watched Jaskier. “She already knows what can happen if you try to deny destiny, she won’t be foolish enough to try to keep her from us. Not with the Nilfgaardian army advancing.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure when they’d started referring to the Cintran princess as their child surprise, but Geralt had never bothered correcting it once they’d started. It had now been nearly two years since Geralt’s medallion had become enchanted and they’d shared everything since then anyway. Walking the same Path, warming the same bedroll, keeping the same secrets, and—evidently—guarding the same destiny. Sometimes as Witcher and bard, quite often as bard and wolf, but always together and caring for each other. No matter whether they were on the road hunting a contract, performing for a tavern crowd, or wintering at Kaer Morhen.

Or—as had happened several days ago—spotting an entire Nilfgaardian army at Amel Pass who were beating a grim march toward a certain child surprise.

Jaskier chewed his lip as he looked north through the dark trees of the forest they were camped in. North toward Cintra, only a day’s ride away now, a trip he’d made alone many times over the past twelve years.

He hadn’t exactly made a mission of checking in on Geralt’s child surprise every few years without him knowing, it had just…happened�� He was one of the continent’s best performers after all, it made sense he’d be in high demand whenever he could slip away from Geralt’s side to play for the charming princess who taken quite the liking to him, a feeling that was mutual between them.

He’d wondered before about whether destiny was involved with how fond he’d become of her. Looking back now it felt very much like Jaskier was a handful of carefully placed colored threads being sharply pulled into place as a tapestry picture was woven with increasing speed. Threads that were tangled him and Geralt and Ciri together into a tightly woven image that was coming into focus both too quickly and not nearly quickly enough.

“Queen Calanthe had no qualms trying to keep Pavetta back from her destiny all those years ago.” Jaskier said. He walked back to Geralt and lay down beside him. He slipped back under the blanket and tucking himself up against his witcher’s warm body. “She only gave in at the end because her castle was about to be ripped apart around us, and I can promise you her stubbornness hasn’t worn down one iota over the years. If you ask me, we ought to slink in the back way and sneak off with the princess before her dear old granny has even realized what’s happened.”

“That’s a spectacularly bad idea.” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier’s back against his chest as he curled around the bard. “I’m finally wearing off on you if your court etiquette’s fallen so far as to allow royal kidnappings.”

Jaskier turned in Geralt’s arms to face him, poking a stern finger at his chest. “If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t even know Cirilla’s name before you went barging into the palace.” He said sternly. “I’m always the brains when we visit a royal court, and as the brains I’m saying it’s going to be no use trying to ask the lioness of Cintra for her last cub and expecting her to take it well, no matter how polite you manage to be.”

“And this isn’t a party we’re dealing with, it’s a fanatical invading army.” Geralt said. He huffed. “And I would have have found out her name even without you, surely I’m not that hopeless.”

“Says the man who had been referring to his own child surprise as a prince for years out of assumption before I corrected you.” Jaskier said dryly. “And I know, all the more reason for us to be careful. We’ll likely only have one chance to make sure she’s safe and if we leave it up to your interpersonal charm you’ll be thrown into a dungeon to rot until the Nilfgaardian soldiers tear the cell down around you.”

“Well then, what do you suggest we do, oh expert of all things Cintra?” Geralt said with a thin sigh, resting his head against their pillow.

“Well first of all, I suggest that we do not parade Geralt of Rivia the Witcher through the front gates of the city for all of Calenthe’s spies to see.” Jaskier said, running his fingers meaningfully along the chain of Geralt’s Witcher medallion. “She forbade you from ever returning to Cintra over a decade ago, she’ll have you killed the moment she catches your scent near her granddaughter. But she won’t be wary of a favorite bard who’s performed in her court several times, along with his new pet wolf.”

“Oh, you’re her favorite bard?” Geralt said with a smirk.

“Calenthe’s favorite bard is the soldier who sounds the war horn as she rides into her latest over-aggressive military effort.” Jaskier said dryly. “If it was up to her I’m sure all royal parties would be replaced with sparring matches between visiting dignitaries.”

“Sounds like an improvement to me.” Geralt said. “Probably get more done that way really.”

“You’re impossible.” Jaskier sighed. “But what I meant is the princess. Ciri knows me and likes me, Calenthe knows that too. It makes me harder to turn away if I were to show up to a party, even without an invitation.”

“Which helps our current situation because…?”

“If you’d been listening to my gossip swapping at the last three taverns we’ve passed through you’d know there’s a Cintrian Royal banquet tomorrow. They’ll be bestowing several titles of knighthood and throwing a party about it.” Jaskier said, idly smoothing a hand down Geralt’s chest. “It shouldn’t be too hard to convince the steward that my wolf and I would make an excellent replacement for the musical entertainment that just disappeared under somewhat mysterious circumstances.”

“We are not killing a bard to get invited to a party.” Geralt said flatly.

“I said disappeared mysteriously Geralt, not killed.” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes. “Honestly. Just give the poor sod a blast of axii once we find him and we’ll pocket his invitation, we’ll say he lined us up as his replacement after a sudden last minute attack of bad stew. It happens in performing circles all the time, the steward won’t care a bit as long as I’m dressed for the occasion, my lute is in tune, and you’re well groomed and polite.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt stared past him and into the trees, quiet for a long moment. “We’re only just ahead of the Nilfgaardians. We’ll arrive tomorrow but they’ll only be a day behind us at most. It doesn’t leave us much time. We just need to know that the princess is safe.”

“Which is why we have to be careful with our one chance.” Jaskier said firmly. “We keep a low profile, get into the castle, eavesdrop until we learn what we need, and then slip out the back way before the Nilfgaardians even arrive. With Cirilla safely in tow if need be. It’ll be over and done before midnight tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Geralt said, mouth still twisted into a worried frown. “We’ll try it.”

“Everything will be alright my wolf.” Jaskier said gently, kissing the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Destiny is on our side and we’re playing our cards wisely, working together we’ll surely win this round.”

Geralt said nothing, only pulling Jaskier closer to bury his face against his neck.

***

“Stick close.” Jaskier said, fingertips idly brushing Geralt’s wolf ears as they wove through the Cintrian marketplace together. “Now isn’t the time to go trailing after cats or meat carts.”

Geralt nipped playfully at his bard’s fingers for his teasing, earning him a smile and a real head scratch as they continued on, simply a bard and his pet wolf to any onlookers.

After two years Geralt could no longer say whether he preferred being a Witcher or being a wolf, because as far as he was concerned both forms were equally his true self. Running on all fours was as natural for him as swinging a sword, silently shadowing Jaskier as his supposed pet was as easy as brewing his hunting potions.

The day was overcast and the market was busy, an oppressive buzz of grim preparation seeped through the marketplace as the Cintran people purchased extra grain, swapped rumors, and sharpened all manner of weapons.

From what they’d gathered from the marketplace chatter the queen had made no public decree concerning the nearing Nilfgaardian army, aside from the command that every citizen should be ready to fulfill their duty should they be called upon. But the clear anxiety of Calanthe’s subjects belied the royal confidence such a bold non-move displayed, information that did nothing to settle Geralt’s fears about the princess’ safety.

Luckily Jaskier had already managed to find a lead on where to find their banquet lutist with a few well placed questions and a handful of coin. Even better, the roaming peacekeeping soldiers had barely given Geralt a second glance when they passed. He idly wondered what might have happened if he had come to the city as a Witcher, but shook off the thought, having more important things to worry about as they ducked out of the way of a tanner’s cart. They just had to-

“I am not. You’re just a sore loser!”

A young girl’s voice slipped through the noise of the crowd from somewhere nearby, catching Geralt’s attention. Geralt stopped dead in his tracks so abruptly it felt like his very bones had made the decision to halt, trapping the rest of Geralt with them as the bustle of the market around him faded away.

“Let me try again, give them here.”

Geralt turned, ears flicking toward the voice. Before he knew it his feet were pulling him along and toward whoever the owner of that voice was. He wove between legs and around market stalls as he followed the sound of young laughter and spirited teasing without even thinking to wonder why.

The source of the laughter came into view: five teenagers kneeling around a mat rolled out on the ground, jeering and smiling at each other as they played what looked like a game of knucklebones.

Or rather, four teenage boys and a young girl who seemed like she was very much trying to look like a boy, wearing a pair of pants with her hair tucked up into a tight cap.

“I said give it-”

The young girl trailed off, sitting up and looking around as if she’d heard something odd.

Geralt found himself trotting right up to her, feeling a small electric jolt when she turned to meet his gaze. She showed no surprise at a massive collared white wolf coming up to her, only reaching out to pet him, her expression a bit confused.

“Hello.” She said, tipping her head to the side and smiling as Geralt wagged his tail. “Where have you come from?”

“Ciri, that your dog?” One of her playmates asked.

“It’s a wolf you idiot, of course it’s hers, look at the expensive collar it’s got.” Said another, socking the first in the shoulder.

“How am I supposed to know what pets princesses have?” Complained the first boy, rubbing his shoulder.

Geralt’s eyes widened and his tail stilled.

That’s why he’d been pulled toward her, why she’d seemed to sense him at a distance. This was the Princess Cirilla.

His child surprise.

“I’m Ciri, what’s your name?” She said curiously, ignoring the boys as she scratched behind his ears and checked his collar for a name plate. “Do you need help?”

Geralt whined, shifting from paw to paw as his canine excitement got the better of his usual stoic self. He pressed his cold nose against her palm and she laughed, making a warm excited feeling rush through him. How many times had he idly imagined meeting his child surprise? It had never gone like this in his imaginings, usually involving far more grandmotherly interference for one thing.

“I like you.” Ciri declared to only him, kissing his forehead. “If you’re lost you can stay with me.”

Geralt whined again, half knocking her over as he pressed against her side, tail wagging wildly as she giggled.

“So he’s not-” one of the boys started, but the teenagers all stiffened at the clatter of hooves.

In a moment they’d scattered like pigeons, leaving Geralt and Ciri alone in the road, looking up at the four riders who pulled to a stop before them. Geralt stepped in front of Ciri protectively. He’d had his child surprise for less than two minutes now but felt surprised at the certainty he already felt that he would absolutely rip a man apart with his own teeth to protect her.

“You need to come with us.” One of the horsemen—all of them royal guards—said, eying Geralt warily but saying nothing as Ciri got to her feet, putting a hand on Geralt’s collar. “You’re needed back at the castle your highness.”

“Alright.” Ciri said primly, her demeanor entirely different than it had been a moment ago with her friends. More serious, now drained of happiness. “But you didn’t have to bring an entire regiment to fetch me.”

“Are you bringing that…dog with you?” the soldier asked, dismounting and handing his reigns to another soldier to accompany the princess on foot.

Ciri looked down at Geralt, he could see her biting her lip in indecision, doubtlessly hesitating to take a wolf with her who was clearly already owned by someone. Geralt panted, whining happily and pushing his nose against her palm in a clear show of encouragement. Take me with you, it’s alright. Keep me by your side.

“Yes.” Ciri decided, petting his head with a smile and looking back at the soldier. “He’s lost, I’m keeping him until his owner can be found.”

“As you wish your majesty.” The soldier said, already looking disinterested as they began making their way back to the castle in a small procession of hooves and sabers.

Geralt’s ears pricked as he heard a shrill three note whistle, the signal Jaskier always used if they were separated and calling his real name was inadvisable. Geralt looked back just in time to see his bard wander through the crowd, whistling and looking around worriedly.

Jaskier spotted him through the crowd and his eyes widened. Geralt wagged his tail in reassurance and Jaskier must have gotten the message, hanging back as Geralt turned a corner and out of sight with the others.

This was not the plan, but Geralt knew he could trust Jaskier to be clever enough to continue his half without help.

Or at least he had to hope so. Because without Jaskier and the medallion he guarded Geralt would be trapped as a wordless and weaponless wolf in the court of a queen who hated him as an enemy army bore down on the city.

Geralt would only be able to keep his wits about him and hope that this was a gamble that would pay off in their favor.

[Read chapter 2: Old Friend]

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #ciri #the witcher wolf #wit writes #this will be a quick fluffy oneshot #i say to myself #putting on my clown makeup

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third-rail-vip · 4 years ago

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What is your character’s D&D Class?

Tagged by @briarfox13 (over on my main) and @adventuresofmeghatron - thank you so much for the tag. I love this! Any excuse to get some more dnd stuff in my life. There is so much bard in my girl according to this! I really did not see that coming.

Of course, now I’m thinking about 5e race and class for my ocs, but maybe that’s for another post. I did start art for this, but maybe I’ll make a separate project of that, see if I can get a dnd party together.

I tag @mayihavethisdanse @minuteminx @its-sixxers @ravenqueen89 @mutantenfisch @wastewealth-commonland

Ivy Kendrick (sole survivor)

Rules: Bold what definitely applies, italicise what sometimes applies.

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽 » toothy grins, stories around the campfire, clothes covered in pet hair, hot temper, old jeans, heartbeat in head, potatoes and steak, beaded jewellery, bruises like galaxies, mementos, backpack stuffed full, craigslist furniture, spontaneous road trips, air ripped from lungs

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳 » homemade bread, white lies, easily excited, trying on hats, band geek, pep talks, no impulse control, sunsets, vintage fashion, long showers, selfies, following dreams, rosy cheeks, song mash-ups, pink lemonade with tequila, loves easily, animated storyteller, full of comebacks

𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 » list of wishes, biting their tongue, band-aids and neosporin, shoulder to cry on, morning sun, necklaces, trial and error, homemade quilts, formal clothing, astrology fan, messages in bottles, pleated braids, speaking up for friends, feathers, motivational quotes, vivid dreams

𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳 » bird watching, shy kid, wind chimes, trying to whistle, summer camp, apple orchards, lost in their head, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hoodies, thrift shopping, saving worms off the sidewalk, pig latin, bare feet, thunderstorms, numb fingers, braided hair, naming potted plants

𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁 » goosebumps, leather jackets, adventure, chewing nails, cares deeply but can’t show it, bronze locks, no sleep, taste of iron, netflix binges, never forgets, combat boots, stories behind scars, table for one, official soundtracks, sore calves, trusts themselves the most

𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺 » always trying to be better, wanderlust, meditation, sweat pants, old photographs, yoga, sleeping in hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist design, a breath of fresh air, baby animals, volunteering, perfectionist, doesn’t care about fashion, healthy snacks, noticing the little things

𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽 » school uniforms, thick jackets, sleeping with the windows open, logical advice, scrapbooking, compasses, i fight for my friends, sculpture gardens, cold morning air, big soul, likes routine, secret romantic, last to get jokes, sunflowers, practical presents, misty weather

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 » herbal tea, smell of rain, blinking away tears, camping trips, collecting bones, swiss army knives, first impressions, anxious thoughts, bobby pins, burnt marshmallows, too competitive, clothes lines, messenger bags, holding grudges, gets along better with animals than people

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴 » flirtatious sarcasm, candid photos, lost phone chargers, adrenaline rush, picking dirt out from beneath their nails, social chameleon, clashing clothes, self-deprecating jokes, claw machines, sits in chairs wrong, smudged eyeliner, has too many sunglasses, eats nothing or everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁 » infectious laugh, family trees, shivers down their spine, lipstick and roses, mood swings, clumsy, believing in destiny, high expectations, sleeping in darkness, collection of nail polish, passionate, good grades but never studies, poetry books, blowing kisses, not knowing their own strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 » knowing everyone’s secrets, backpack covered in pins, envy, being in walmart late at night, earl grey, selective memory, conspiracy theories and cryptids, key smashing, need to know basis, can’t cook, bags under eyes, experimental art, flickering bulbs, black clothing all year long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳 » piles of textbooks, cat in lap, keeping a diary, indecision, scented candles, studying alone in a café, lingering touches, museum dates, unanswered questions, taking on too much responsibility, collections, chalk dust, comfy robes, unnecessary apologies, coming home after a long day

#i love this #my brain is full of dnd now #it's a good way to be #ivy kendrick #dnd class meme #my oc #tag game

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blog-sliverofjade · 4 years ago

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Hearth Fires 9: Hunger

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 2131

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the divine pandabearer

RainFire Leopards: Who doesn’t love a lone wolf leopard? Now imagine an entire pack of them. What alpha is tough and crazy enough to herd these strong-willed roaming cats? Meet Remi Denier. Don’t let the lazy charm and Cajun drawl fool you or he’ll chew you up and spit you out.

Unless that’s what you’re into. We don’t judge.

-From the “Pack Cheat Guide” in the March 2082 issue of Wild Women magazine: “Skin Privileges, Style, and Primal Sophistication”

A massive fist slammed into Remi’s side, forcing air from his left lung. It wasn’t full force otherwise he’d be dealing with bruised ribs for a couple of days, but it wasn’t a love tap, either. Anything less would have been an insult to his strength.

Twisting, he brought his knee up and grabbed for Theo’s shoulders to bring him down into the strike. His hands slipped off shoulders slippery with sweat as the sentinel stepped back. The other leopard’s chest heaved, nearly matching the pace of his own panting. They’d been going at it long enough that they were both dripping.

“Again,” snarled Remi.

He needed to burn off the tension that’d been riding him since Chloe called him. Theo was big, taller than Remi, although not quite as widely built as the alpha. The sentinel used his quiet intelligence and surprising speed to lethal advantage, which meant he was the only one who could hold his own against the RainFire alpha for any length of time.

The sentinel shook his head and reached for a towel draped over a low hanging branch. Scrubbing it over his face, he left it to drape around his neck and scooped up two water bottles nestled in the coiled roots of the same tree. Remi caught the one tossed his way; the bio-plas crunched in his grip and water spilled onto his hand.

When he first met Lorel, he thought his cat wanted her as a potential packmate, but remained quiet so as not to spook her. That was nothing new. The animal knew no skittish submissive could handle the full force of a strange alpha who’d been baptized in blood.

Today, the smell of her fear tinged with a strange note had set his leopard into a hunting crouch, ready to rip out Shaw’s throat. She didn’t smell quite right, not wrong, but not quite like the cat she was. It wasn’t until he was behind the wheel again that his cat told him what that element was: she was on the verge of losing her humanity.

The protectiveness most predatory dominant changelings felt was magnified in him, something he had to carefully mitigate; changelings needed freedom to grow and thrive. When Jojo had reacted to Lorel, he’d carefully sifted through the sugar and spice layers of her scent and found nothing troubling.

Had he been ignoring possible warning signs because he wanted to play with the feral kitten? It was far too early to have allowed her that deeply into their territory, and he’d only conceded to the harebrained idea because he wanted to see if others in the pack reacted as favourably to her as he did. But there was no going back now. If he couldn’t drag her back from the edge, then he’d have to take her out as a last resort. He wasn’t ready to give up on her.

Unfortunately, being alpha meant that he had to put the pack’s needs above his own.

“You need to do something about that touch hunger,” Theo said when he came up for air, screwing the top back on his empty bottle.

“Don’t go there.” Pure alpha poured into every word.

“Your tension’s starting to affect the juvenile males.”

“Feet pue tan!” he cursed and punched a tree trunk. The rough bark split his knuckles and scented the air with blood. His sexual hunger was a constant pulse underneath his skin; it had to be driving the younger males crazy. When there were too many unmated dominants, that much unchanneled sexual energy tended to explode into violence that could tear a pack apart.

The only problem was the only one he wanted to sate his touch hunger with was an ocelot who’d rather hiss and claw at him than permit him skin privileges of any kind. Rather than being a deterrent, that was like catnip for predatory dominants.

He didn’t know why he cared so much about one female. She wasn’t pack, didn’t want to be, and was more trouble than she was worth. She refused to behave like any sane submissive faced with a predatory alpha, and she challenged him in ways women rarely did. She didn’t even recognize the favour he gave her by giving her protection, instead, she took it as a mortal insult like a female sentinel would!

“That’s what you get for headhunting loners.” Dropping out of a maple across the clearing, Elijah landed in a crouch before rising to his feet, shaking back his ridiculous mane of chocolate brown hair with a high, full undercut.

“You’re improving, I only heard you five minutes ago instead of ten.” Remi shook the painful numb tingling out of his hand. He was just yanking Elijah’s chain; no one made it to senior soldier without the ability to silently stalk their prey, no matter what form they were in.

“You know, Theo, if you mated, it’d help keep the balance.” Strong ties between men and women, either long-term relationships or those lucky enough to have mated, at the top of hierarchy stabilized the pack.,

“We’re talking about your sex life, or lack thereof, not ours. And, for the record, I am good on that front.” Elijah held up his hands, palms out.

“My sex life is not up for discussion,” scowled Remi.

A long low whistle. The two sentinels shared a look.

“That is one serious case of blue balls.” Dark brows climbed up Elijah’s forehead to disappear under the shaggy hair that draped over his forehead. Theo nodded in agreement.

“Stop talking about my balls and go play with your own.” Claws erupted from his fingertips. A severe overreaction for some teasing from packmates who were trying to keep him from going over the edge like he was right now.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he took a minute to get himself back under control. Theo and Elijah were very obviously not looking at each other, or him, for that matter. If they had, he might well have interpreted it as a dominance challenge with the state he was currently in.

Sometimes alphas did go bad. Within the span of four years, his own father destroyed what was once a solid, healthy pack. While very few of the sentinels could take Remi one on one, some of them were damn good snipers.

Not even an alpha could dodge a bullet they couldn’t see.

Lorel lay awake, staring at the ceiling, bone-weary and yet sleep eluded her. Her skin prickled and burned like a terrible sunburn, which she’d had enough of to know the sensation well, but she hadn’t been out in the sun long enough to burn. Her mind kept replaying the events of that afternoon on loop until her blood boiled and her fingertips tingled, the latter was one of the first signs of an involuntary shift.

The bedroom was larger than any of the ones in her various apartments had been, but the walls were too close, too confining. Slipping on a floral satin robe, she padded to the living room to look out the picture window.

Turning to pace back across the room, she paused facing the back door. Through that door and thirty meters away, the treeline began. The mountains began about three miles into the forest. She should be fine as long as she stayed to the lower elevations. Just because they claimed the whole county as part of their jurisdiction, their pack lands were further into the woods.

The thought of remaining in the house one second longer had her wanting to climb the walls. She felt caged as it was, her ocelot would go insane if trapped inside one second longer; it had spent enough years stuck inside the trappings of civilization.

But she didn’t have to remain confined within four walls anymore. There was an entire mountain to explore full of trees and rabbits and squirrels. As long as she remained on this side of the mountain, she was fine.

Shaking her head to dislodge the dangerous thought, she continued to pace. Her cat yowled inside its cage, protesting the close environs.

Living on her own at the edge of the woods, free to shift whenever she chose, was like being stuck in a free-fall with no idea when she was going to become a greasy smear on the pavement. What if the rabbits and squirrels she could hunt weren’t enough to keep her ocelot happy? One day she might sink into the madness permanently, her rational side and everything that made her human disintegrating.

In forums and magazines, other changelings talked about being in balance, never struggling for control. She knew that wasn’t true for everyone. It wasn’t true for her. It wasn’t true for her father.

And yet there was risk if they went long enough without shifting. Changelings who needed water to shift and couldn’t get to it in time could die. The last time she’d shifted was the week she’d moved to Bryson City two months ago. The beast slashed at the inside of her mind, demanding freedom, trying to break through the human shell. She’d learned to ignore the suffocating need to shift, but now she couldn’t breathe it was so strong. The blinding pain settled the issue for her.

The robe glided to the floor in a whisper of sound, leaving her nude in the hallway. She hated pajamas, she twisted and turned too much in her sleep until she woke tangled and choked in soft fabric. The sense of confinement was something she’d had to put up with until she’d moved out on her own. Her aunt, a self-proclaimed part-time nudist, didn’t care as long as she “put a towel down” if she was running around in her birthday suit.

Shivering in the chill night air, feet curling away from the damp floorboards of the porch, she shut the door behind her.

After holding onto control for so long, letting go of it was harder than maintaining it. The shift was supposed to be instantaneous, but it usually took her a minute and it didn’t happen all at once.

It was like her senses exploded from the inundation of input that threatened to overwhelm. The woman reached for control out of habit. The smell of blood, sharp and delicious, scented the air. Dominance over her own body slipped through her fingers and she dissolved into a million particles of shattering light

Changelings often spoke of the shift as ecstasy and agony, but for her it was mostly the latter.

She stretched, tail high, back bowed, and front paws flashing claws as she kneaded the grass then reached out to flex her claws on a tree, marking her home. The human’s protests were buried under the instincts of the cat.

Something tight and cramped unfurled in her chest, aching with sweet pain as it stretched for the first time in years. Ecstatic clarity that made her want to bound through the trees.

Heart singing in her chest, she sucked in great lungfuls of air. Woods flew by in a shadowed blur. Paws landing solidly, whiskers fluttering in the breeze. Brain switched off as she ran.

The close proximity of houses and the overwhelming plethora of scents that came from being inside the city limits was nothing new to the cat, only there was no stink that came with larger cities. She’d always taken care to keep to her home before, but the wall of trees just beyond the yard called to her.

The ground was springy with vegetable debris under her paws as she bounded through the trees. Cold air swept through her nose and wind ghosted through her fur. The sound of prey scurrying through the underbrush drew her deeper into the woods.

Muscles bunching and she pounced. Fur and flesh parted under sharp teeth. The worries of the woman no longer existed. Only blood and feeding the dark hunger that gripped her mattered.

Rodents, birds, lizards all fell under flashing claws and teeth. The cat could eat no more, yet still it hunted, leaving a trail of small bodies in its wake.

Eventually, the exhaustion weighing down her limbs overcame the need to kill. Curling up nose to tail in a hollow underneath a fallen tree trunk, she settled in to sleep.

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jenniboo311 · 4 years ago

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Hot Ones: Spider-Man Tries Not to Spill His Secrets While Eating Hot Wings

by jenniboo311

Part 1 of the Hot Ones: Avengers in the Hot Seat series, Part 1 of the Social Butterfly Spidey series

Teen | 17416 Words | Chapter 1/3

The video begins focused on a man in his early thirties looking into the camera, hair buzzed short and wearing a white hoodie under a black bomber jacket. He is sitting at a small table with ten bottles of hot sauce lined up down the center from hot to hottest, a platter of ten chicken wings set in front of him, with the whole set backdropped in black. The man smiles and begins his introduction.

"Hi everyone, from First We Feast this is Sean Evans and you're watching Hot Ones: the show with hot questions and even hotter wings."

The camera angle changes but maintains the closeup.

"You may recognize our next guest from his daring acrobatics, swinging high above the streets of Queens as he patrols vigilantly to keep its citizens safe. From rescuing cats stuck in trees to taking down drug rings and even occasionally joining the Avengers in taking on aliens to save the world, there is no task too simple or too daunting for this hero. Please welcome to the show, the amazing Spider-Man."

The camera changes to focus on the guest sitting across from him, a young man wearing dark blue jeans, white sneakers, and a thin dark grey hoodie that easily displays the shape of his fit body, the sleeves casually pulled a third of the way up to reveal sinewy forearms corded with veins and a few faint scars. Most notably he is wearing a Spider-Man mask to preserve his identity.

The large white eyes narrow a fraction in delight and the area around the mouth twitches, as if there is a smiling mouth beneath the fabric.

"Wow, what an intro," he enthuses, "Thank you so much for having me! I'd say it's a pleasure to be here but I'm actually a fan of your show and so I have a good idea of what's in store for me."

His voice is light and friendly and sounds relatively young.

They both laugh at Spider-Man's joke and Sean looks delighted and flattered.

"Thank you so much, I am a fan of yours as well, Spider-Man! You sound a bit apprehensive though. I've gotta ask, how are you with hot food?"

"Uhhhh-"

He reaches back to scratch the back of his neck nervously and the eyes on his mask widen comically as he cocks his head to the side and continues.

"I'm gonna be real honest with you here, Sean."

Sean laughs again, "Okay lay it on me Spidey - can I call you Spidey?"

"Yeah of course. I actually used to love hot food. A relative of mine was pretty terrible at cooking when I was growing up so we got takeout a lot and we would often get this crazy hot curry for fun from a spot down the road and man, I think we had cast iron stomachs because it didn't bother us a bit and most people can't even get through half."

Sean throws his hands up in confusion and gestures at him, "So this should be a breeze for you! Why do you sound so worried?!"

"I said 'used to'! Since I became enhanced and became Spider-Man my senses have been heightened and are what I've described as 'dialed to eleven'. So where I used to be able to basically eat battery acid, I fear now it's going to kick my ass. I actually don't know for sure since I've avoided it since the incident but I suspect it will be bad."

Sean grins devilishly and not at all sorry, "Uh oh! That's not looking good for you!"

Spider-Man shifts in his chair to get more comfortable and one eye widens slightly as if he has raised an eyebrow, "No it's not! Give me a mob of dangerous armed criminals any day, but a plate of chicken wings can get the best of me!"

Sean rubs his hands together like a cliche evil villain, "And now we know your weakness!"

Spider-Man recoils in jest and slaps a hand to his covered mouth.

"Seriously though," Sean continues, "Aren't you worried that potential enemies will know now that you're weakened by things that will overwhelm your heightened senses?"

"I mean nobody is invulnerable, not even people who are enhanced. I'm still human, just...extra. If you blast loud noise or bright lights at anyone it's going to be unpleasant. But I've got my suit to help with most of that. My mask helps dampen sounds and dim lights, things like that."

"Well what if you lose the mask?"

Spider-Man shrugs, "If they're close enough to manage to relieve me of my mask without a fight I've got bigger problems."

They both laugh and Sean nods and concedes the point.

"Okay Spidey, let's get this party started! Good luck!"

Spider-Man reaches up to carefully fold the mask up over his mouth to reveal a chiseled jaw, light stubble, and a gentle, friendly grin.

"It would be a bit difficult to eat wings with a mask over my mouth."

Sean looks intrigued at seeing even this much of his face and a bit surprised, "My God, that jawline could cut glass!"

Spider-Man gives a surprised laugh that reveals even, white teeth, and a faint flush creeps up his neck. He settles on an embarrassed smirk and brings his hand up to drag down his jaw, "Thanks, I think?"

"Wow, did I really just get Spider-Man to blush?"

Spider-Man shrugs awkwardly, "I'm not use to getting compliments on my face since I've always got my mask on, usually people comment on my ass."

"I mean, it's a great ass!" Sean quips teasingly.

They both laugh and Sean is obviously joking and trying to rile him up but it works and Spider-Man flushes darker and shakes his head in embarrassed resignation.

"It's the spandex! Not much left to the imagination unfortunately."

"Or fortunately, depending on who you ask!"

Spider-Man shakes his head again and they both finally take a bite of the first wing. After a couple chews Spider-Man freezes and then clenches his jaw and inhales deeply to fortify himself.

"Alright there Spidey?" Sean is quietly amused.

After a moment he quickly chews the rest of the bite and downs it in a painful sounding gulp, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. He tries to speak but his voice cracks and he has to clear it and try again, "I think I'm in trouble."

"Already?!" The host exclaims in disbelief, "It's only the first one!"

Spider-Man's jaw clenches and his large white eyes narrow at him playfully.

"I am painfully aware of that, Sean."

Sean laughs at Spider-Man's deadpan delivery and gives him a minute while he finishes the wing and tosses it in the trash hidden behind the table before dabbing his mouth politely with a napkin.

"Speaking of spandex," Sean begins, "I've gotta say it's extremely strange to see you sitting here without the red and blue, you look like a totally normal dude! I'll be honest, I was expecting you to show up in the suit. I wasn't expecting this normal dude in a mask to stroll in!"

Spider-Man laughs, "That's the thing isn't it? I am a totally normal guy outside of the walking on walls thing. I've been told I'm a little boring to be honest."

Sean shakes his head and scoffs, "I'm not sure I believe that."

Spider-Man shrugs a shoulder, "I guess the Spider-Man side of me is so exciting that a little boring isn't a bad thing. Everyone needs a bit of downtime. Nobody can stay switched on all the time, even Spider-Man!"

"No, I guess not," Sean concedes.

"And I figured if I was going to suffer through the agony of 'the last dab' I should at least be comfortable instead of sweating a puddle in my spandex. I dare say I'll sweat more today than even some of my more memorable fights."

"You're so sure you'll get to the final wing and 'the last dab'! I love the confidence," he crows and Spider-Man answers with a cocky smirk and cheeky finger guns.

"And is this something you typically like to wear," he continues, "Your civilian clothes, so to speak?"

"I mean...yes and no? I guess it's what I would wear if people knew I was Spider-Man? I usually wear thicker hoodies and baggy shirts to hide my body. I'd love to be able to wear clothes that actually properly fit me all the time. I usually only wear these when I'm at the Avengers compound."

Sean's jaw drops, "So you're telling me that you're ripped and nobody even knows?"

Spider-Man laughs, "Yep! I tend to act a little differently as a civilian to separate the two for safety, not as saucy or outgoing, and that definitely includes hiding how strong I am."

"I don't think I'd have the willpower to not show off," Sean admits. "So if your identity is eventually revealed, will people who know you be surprised?"

Spider-Man clears his throat a couple times, clearly uncomfortable with the spice but trying not to be too obvious.

"When I'm revealed, and I've always assumed it will get out eventually so it's more of a when rather than an if, I think people are definitely going to be surprised. I don't think anyone who knows my civilian self would ever guess I'm Spider-Man. Which I guess is a big part of how I've managed to keep it secret these last few years."

Spider-Man begins to visibly relax as the interview progresses and he slouches back into his chair, resting his right ankle over his left knee. His left hand comes to rest on his shoe, his fingers idly tapping.

"But does that offend you though?" Sean continues, "I feel like if that were me and I was like, 'I'm Spider-Man!', and my friends were all like, 'There's no way this weird wimp is Spider-Man', I'd be pretty offended. I'd be like, 'Not even a small part of you thinks I could be Spider-Man?!'"

Spider-Man laughs, "I mean yeah, there's a small vain part of me that bristles at having to act 'lesser' than what I am. I'm a pretty lean guy so if I wear a baggy shirt I just look kinda scrawny. I've been mocked for being 'weak', I've been pushed around, roughed up. And I can't even fight back because I don't want to hurt anyone and it wouldn't be a fair fight, and because it would give away the game so to speak. So that part of me is offended I guess, and wishes I could just show people what I'm made of. You know? Show them I can be a funny smartass who can hold his own and that I'm not as shy and meek as I might seem. But the sensible side of myself, which is thankfully a lot more prominent than the vain part, is relieved that it's that much more unbelievable because my friends and family are safer that way."

"Except now people will know that you act weak and shy, won't that give you away?"

Spider-Man pauses to think and scratch thoughtfully at his jaw, "No I don't think so. I just act more like normal people do. A ton of people are shy to some degree and most people will avoid conflict so I don't think that's really giving things away. That's just describing most of the population and if they can figure out who I am just from that I'll be impressed."

They both move on to the next wing, Spider-Man giving a slight cough after the first swallow.

"Hoooo, that's got a kick!", he wheezes and takes another bite.

Sean is impressed, "Wow, and you're still going to clean the wing. Mad respect, Spidey!"

Spider-Man finishes eating and tosses the bone away and dabs his mouth with a napkin, "I detest wasting food."

Sean raises his eyebrows curiously, "Is that from some kind of personal experience or just on general principal?"

Spider-Man ponders how much to reveal, purses his lips, and hesitantly admits, "I...grew up in a limited income household. It never got so bad that I truly went without, but we were sometimes limited enough that I wasn't always exactly full either. My family did their absolute best to provide for me and I'm incredibly thankful for that and I try to never take things for granted like food or a roof over my head. And that unfortunately translates to cleaning a chicken wing even when my tongue feels like I've licked a cheese grater."

Sean nods along sympathetically to Spider-Man's answer until the end where he laughs and says, "Surely it's not that bad already?"

Spider-Man answers by hanging out his tongue, which is an angry red color.

Sean winces, "Oh God! That looks painful! You are totally in trouble! Are you okay to continue?"

Spider-Man sticks his tongue back in and takes a few deep breaths with his mouth open to try to cool it with the air. After a moment Spider-Man answers him in a humourous deadpan, "You may not know this about me, Sean, but part of being Spider-Man involves having zero self preservation."

This causes Sean to laugh before he continues with the interview.

"Growing up on movies and comics where the hero with the secret identity miraculously transforms into his alter ego by taking off his glasses and sporting a cheesy spit-curl, I never much considered how silly that really was. Now, being privileged to live in a time and place that honest to God real superheroes exist I've gotta wonder how challenging it actually is to separate the two identities in real life. Do you worry that acquaintances of your civilian self will watch this interview and recognize your voice? Or even that they'll run into Spider-Man in person some day and recognize your voice and figure it out?"

Spider-Man shrugs, "Back when I first started, sure, that was a possibility. I made my own gear by myself in those days and didn't have access to the real fancy tech. I made my web formula and my web shooters and a crappy version of my suit but that's about it. But after I met Tony Stark and we started working together on my gear I haven't had to be worried about that so much. He installed a voice modulator in my mask. It's not drastically different than my normal voice, but it's just different enough that if you knew my civilian self you wouldn't hear Spider-Man and think, 'Hey I know that guy!' And as for this video, since I can't wear my mask over my mouth for the modulator I have a piece that is clipped over my mic right now that's modulating for me."

Sean perks up in interest, "So the voice I'm hearing right now in studio is your real voice?"

Spider-Man grins cheekily and jests, "Yes! Aren't you lucky?!"

Sean claps a dramatic but genuine hand to his chest, "I am! I feel so privileged!"

Spider-Man's cheeky grin softens into a flattered smile and his eyes narrow in delight, "I wasn't too worried because I knew that I didn't know anybody that works here on your set so nobody will recognize my real voice. And everybody watching at home will just hear the Spidey-voice." Spider-Man's grin sharpens, "And hey, if you guys end up recognizing me somehow anyway, you've all signed NDAs."

Sean snaps his fingers in feigned disappointment, "Oh man! So if I happen to meet you while you're in your civvies and I recognize your voice I can't acknowledge you?"

"I mean, I'd probably make eye contact and smirk at you when no one is looking because I'm a little shit. But otherwise I'd pretend not to know you."

They both share a laugh.

Spider-Man coughs a couple times and sniffles as his nose has started to run with the spice.

"Hanging in there, dude?"

Spider-Man doesn't answer right away but takes a couple deep breaths before answering with a slightly strangled, "'M fine."

Sean smirks and they dig in to their third wing.

"You've mentioned Tony Stark, how did you two meet? Did you approach him and be like, 'Hey I'm Spider-Man!"

Spider-Man snorts and coughs into his napkin from the spice as he's cleaning his mouth. He sniffs some more and wipes his running nose, "No, not at all. We met a couple years ago now, but I didn't approach him. I had no intention of telling anyone who I was and that included Tony Stark, Iron Man or not."

Spider-Man pauses for a moment to hang his head backwards in a fit of desperation and grabs the top of his head in a tortured manner.

"God that's hot. Why am I doing this?"

Sean laughs good naturedly and replies, "To be honest, Spidey, I ask myself that question everyday."

Spider-Man chuckles and visibly flustered says, "What was I taking about? Oh right, meeting Tony. Yes. I came home one day and he was sitting on my couch talking to my family member like it was no big deal."

"What seriously?!"

"Yep! So I start internally panicking like, 'What does he know?' I can only think of one reason Iron Man is in my living room and it's probably to do with my alter ego. And sure enough he starts rhyming off this totally bogus competition that I had supposedly applied to Stark industries for and that I had supposedly won and I knew then that he knew. The look he shot me that screamed, 'Play along or else,' really cinched it."

Sean's jaw dropped, "Oh god what did you do?"

"I played along of course. My family member didn't know anything about Spider-Man - in fact nobody else at all knew at that point in time - and thankfully Tony had assumed as much so we kept it up until my family member was satisfied and we stepped out to speak alone to 'hash out the details'."

Sean was visibly intrigued, "What did he want?"

"He was trying to recruit me for that whole Avengers conflict that people dubbed the 'civil war'. He needed help and had seen some YouTube videos floating around of me, and Tony Stark being Tony Stark managed to figure out who I was just from that."

"Holy shit!"

"I know!"

Sean's eyebrows creased in concern, "Are you worried someone else could find you that way?"

Spider-Man grins in mirth, "Not unless they're Tony Stark. I think only he can manage something like that with such flimsy information."

They both laugh and Sean agrees that that is probably true.

"So judging from the few clips that surfaced in the news, you fought with them in Germany so you took him up on it I guess?"

"Yeah, of course I did. He needed the help and I mean you don't just say no to Iron Man for no reason."

"No I would guess not! And how did all of that go?"

"I mean I'm sure you heard the basic jist of the outcome in the media. Other than that, I stole Cap's shield! Bucky and Sam are still a little salty that I kicked their asses but everything was worked out later so no hard feelings. We're all friends now and back together again."

Sean stutters, "Wait-wait! You stole captain America's shield?!"

Spider-Man grins proudly, "I did! But then he dropped an airport terminal on me so I'd say we're about even."

Sean goes wide eyed at the nonchalant quip of an event that would kill any normal person, "Dude what even is your life?"

He repeats Sean's words back to him from earlier in a dry tone and with a wry quirk to his lips, "To be honest, Sean, I ask myself that everyday."

They take a moment to laugh together and Spider-Man turns his face away from the camera to pull his mask a little higher to blow his nose. He readjusts his mask again before turning back to Sean.

"Oh God," Spider-Man moans, obviously suffering.

"Almost halfway there Spidey, you're doing great," Sean coaches.

"Am I? I don't feel great."

They eat their fourth wing and Spider-Man whines as he chews and shakes his head like he can't believe he's doing this.

Sean smirks.

"So obviously you've kept in touch with Tony Stark and you've met the other Avengers. What is that relationship like? Have you thought about the possibility of one day becoming one? Is that something you would want?"

Spider-Man thoughtfully nods, "Yeah we're pretty close. I've never told anyone this but not too long after Germany Tony actually invited me to become an Avenger."

"Oh my God! So you're actually an Avenger now?! How did nobody know this?"

Spider-Man coughs and clears his throat, "No, I turned him down."

Sean stares at him dumbfounded, "Did you just say you turned down Tony Stark when he asked you to join the Avengers?"

Spider-Man laughs and tries to smother his smirk but fails, "Yes and he never lets me hear the end of it. I don't think many people tell him no."

"So what was your reasoning? I think most people in your shoes would kill for that opportunity."

"Yeah I think I surprised the hell out of Tony. Actually made his mouth hang open. I like to remember it when he's being particularly irritating."

They snicker and there's a clearing of a throat off screen and Spider-Man looks past the camera in its direction and delivers a shit eating grin. After a moment he becomes serious again and turns back toward the host.

"It's not that I wasn't honored, or even that I didn't want to become an Avenger, because I did and I still do, but unfortunately there was more to consider than just wanting it. Joining the Avengers would involve signing the accords, and signing the accords would require me to unmask to the general public. The biggest reason that I keep myself masked is for protection. Not for myself, because I can handle it and I willingly signed up for all this nonsense and sometimes it would just be easier if I didn't have a secret identity, but I do it for the people around me who wouldn't be able to protect themselves and who didn't ask for any of this. Being in Spider-Man's orbit is incredibly dangerous."

Sean quietly nods, respectful of the sudden serious turn of the conversation.

Spider-Man continues, "It's been determined by the media and law enforcement that I am a young man, likely between the ages of 16 and 25. If that were true then hypothetically it would be logical that I would likely be a student of some kind. And if I were hypothetically a student that would mean an entire school full of students and teachers would be vulnerable at all times just because I attend. I have an awful lot of enemies and every one of them would cheerfully do whatever they needed to do to exploit a weakness to see me dead, and attacking my hypothetical classmates to get to me would be a big one. And that's not to even mention my family, of course."

Sean looks horrified, like he wouldn't have considered that reason, and it brings a weight and seriousness to the interview that hadn't been felt until now.

"Hypothetically," Spider-Man reiterates.

"Right," Sean agrees dubiously, though it's obvious that he is admitting to being a student without actually admitting it.

"And you know, the accords only account for the big world ending stuff, and I'm all about helping the little guy, you know? I have been since the very beginning. And signing the accords right now would prevent me from continuing on how I am now. I would be obligated to stay out of any conflict without consulting the council and who has time for that for a petty theft or an assault? I'd get myself thrown on the RAFT pretty quick because there's no way I could witness a rape and not stop it."

"Wow, yeah, and crime would soar I bet once criminals heard you're off the streets. You've really reduced the crime rate over the last few years. Criminals would have a field day if they knew you couldn't interfere."

"You bet they would. But they're currently working on a clause to address that, so hopefully by the time I need it it won't be a problem."

"So you're still hoping to become an Avenger in future? The offer is still on the table?"

"It's logical to assume that I would hypothetically sign the accords after I hypothetically graduate or when my identity gets outed to the public, which ever comes first. The offer has strictly never been taken off the table, exactly."

Sean snickers at Spider-Man's unwillingness to come right out and confirm without the silly hypotheticals.

"But you know," he continues after a moment, "The loop hole is that the accords don't say anything about training together. I spend some evenings and most weekends at the compound training together and learning to be a team. Legally they can't call on me when they assemble, but if I'm in the area and get wind and join in or am already engaged when they join in, then there's nothing preventing that. And we work seamlessly together because of that training and familiarity. So legally I'm not considered an avenger but I guess you could call me an honorary one until it's made official?"

Spider-Man shifts in his chair in discomfort and plucks at his hoodie. He gives in and takes a tiny sip of ice water and clears his throat.

Sean has no mercy and continues the interview without pause, "Avengers training on evenings and weekends, patrolling as Spider-Man, 'hypothetically' studying, making time for family and friends, you sound like a busy guy! When do you sleep?"

Spider-Man grins and sniffles with his runny nose, "Sleep is for the weak."

Sean snorts and they dig in to their fifth wing.

Spider-Man makes a noise of enjoyment, "Wow this one is delicious."

Sean looks pleased, "Thank you! This one is actually a Hot Ones branded sauce, glad you like it. We'll send you home with one in your gift bag."

"That's so nice, thank you. And I mean this in the nicest way, I won't be eating it."

Spider-Man begins coughing as the delayed spice kicks in and he gasps in desperation as Sean laughs in amusement.

"I'll give it to my family member though, the one who loves spice. They'll love it. God you're evil, who the hell made this sauce?! Was it you, Sean? I don't think we can be friends."

Sean laughs again and claps a hand to his wounded heart, "I'm devastated to hear that, but yes I was one of a few who had input on the sauce."

Spider-Man looks up at the ceiling in desperation and then pounds a fist against his thigh and then sits up straight again after a moment, though still gasping and groaning.

"You know, you're a funny guy but based on the footage I've seen of you on YouTube and the news, and heard from people who have encountered you in public, I was expecting someone with a lot more wisecracks, who is more sarcastic and a bit goofy. You're humourous but there's a seriousness to you that I didn't expect."

"Yeah I mean I can be a smart ass for sure, but a lot of that is put on and exaggerated for the persona. I find the bad jokes and the nonchalance often unsettles opponents, throws them off. They're used to people being afraid and running away and then I bounce in making terrible puns and they don't know how to handle me. And it brings a certain levity to my day that would otherwise just smother me. I mean I've seen it all, it's some heavy shit. Weapons, drugs, theft, torture, murder, rape, enslavement. I don't act flippant to make light of the situation, I do it because if I don't I'll get buried in the shit that is the dregs of society that I witness everyday. You wanted to interview me to actually get to know me a bit and I don't feel like it would be truly genuine if I snarked my way through the whole thing. The truth is, I'm just not like that twenty-four seven. So you're getting genuine Spider-Man right now."

"Well I appreciate that, Spides, and I can honestly say that I've enjoyed getting to know genuine Spider-Man and I think everyone watching will too."

Spider-Man smiles widely, sniffs again, and snarks, "Yeah maybe not everyone, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Speaking of, you've had your fair share of bad press for sure. People seem to be really divided on whether they love you or hate you. It must be hard to put so much into saving people only to be called a menace. How do you feel about all that?"

Spider-Man pauses to think for a moment while trying to discretely pick chicken out of his front teeth with his thumb nail.

"I mean...I guess I'm used to it now."

He discretely sucks on his front teeth to dislodge the chicken and pauses to turn away and blow his nose again. He tugs at his collar which brings attention to the sweat beginning to gather in the hollow of his exposed collarbone. He continues in a strained voice, "When I first started it was definitely harder to take. I was just trying to help because I have power and abilities that most people don't have and I felt a responsibility to use that for good. A late relative very dear to me used to tell me 'with great power comes great responsibility'. I didn't take it seriously at the time and without going too deep into that I will say that I later learned the hard way what that motto really means and is largely the reason I actually became Spider-Man. But you know there are always going to be critical people, people who don't like you no matter what you do just for the sake of disliking you, and people who don't like you because they don't understand. It was hard not to take it personally at first but over time I developed a thicker skin and just kind of laugh at it now. I had a rocky start with the police at first but these days they trust me and we have a good working relationship now. The stuff I get blamed for by the public is sometimes ludicrous but you know that's a part of becoming a public figure. I think anyone who becomes famous or dare I say, a celebrity, has to deal with that. Maybe not to the same degree I do, but definitely in similar ways. But the lives I have truly touched and the people I have helped drown all that out. To save someone's child from a burning building and then have them tearfully embrace me and thank me over and over for saving their child's life, feel them shaking in relief and squeezing me as hard as they possibly can, that beats any negativity any day. I don't do it for the gratitude, nor do I need it, but it's fortifying and energizing. That's food for the soul right there. That's why I keep doing what I do. It keeps me going even when it gets really difficult to do so."

Spider-Man starts to sound a bit choked up near the end of his passionate speech and Sean tactfully pauses for a moment to allow Spider-Man to compose himself.

"Wow I can't imagine. Nor can I imagine what it's like to run into a burning building when everyone is running out."

"It's not for everyone! But you know I'm not the only one, we have to give mad props to first responders everywhere because they're running into danger too, not just me. Policemen, firemen, paramedics. They're heros, all of them. And they're not even enhanced. I have the biggest respect for them."

They pause to eat their sixth wing and Spider-Man gets into a coughing fit and struggles to swallow the whole thing but eventually does before wiping his mouth and nose and tugging at his collar again.

"God it's warm in here. Is it warm in here?" He chokes out.

Sean snickers but is otherwise largely unaffected.

"I'm so mad you're not even phased. I'm losing some serious street cred here. I look like a wimp!" Spider-Man gestures angrily at Sean and Sean snickers.

Spider-Man leans his head forward and props it up on his hand, his elbow resting on the the table, sniffing and moaning in distress.

"To be fair I don't have enhanced senses and I've done this a lot, so there's that."

"Yeah I don't think people are going to care too much about that when they're calling me Spider-wimp anyway."

Sean let's out a surprised snort and grins as he watches Spider-Man suffer.

Spider-Man suddenly cracks and reaches for the glass of ice water to his right, "To hell with it, does this shit help?" He gulps a couple mouthfuls and then holds some in his mouth while he looks at Sean in distress.

"I mean psychologically maybe? Mostly no."

Spider-Man leans over to spit the water into the trash hidden to the right of the table and he dabs at his burning red mouth with his napkin.

Spider-Man groans and seems to deliberate for a moment. "Okay this is coming off"

Spider-Man reaches for his hoodie and yanks it over his head, careful not to upset the mask and reveals his body mic with a small modulator device overtop clipped to a red t-shirt that had previously been concealed by the sweater. The shirt is not skin tight but fits his form well and does nothing to hide his trim figure. The sweat at his throat is more noticeable and glistens in the bright studio lights.

Sean smirks, "Stripping off Spidey? Should we get some music and mood lighting?"

"Listen. If this gets much hotter everyone's getting an eyeful. I'll be the first guest to finish their wings fully naked at this rate."

Sean laughs hard and shakes his head in disbelief, "We'd have to blur, but we'd go viral I think. You do you, Spidey. Do what you need to do."

Spider-Man wheezes out a painful laugh.

Sean changes the topic and gestures at Spider-Man's forearms, "I can't help but notice a couple scars on your exposed arms, do you get injured often? What types of injuries are typical for you?"

"Yeah of course. Obviously I try not to get hit and I'm pretty slick and can usually avoid most incoming attacks, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Both just because I can't move away in time or because there's a civilian behind me and if I move I know they'll get hit."

Sean looks shocked, "Are you saying you've willingly taken bullets for people?"

"Yeah totally, as well as knives and other random projectiles. Desk chairs, mailboxes, chunks of drywall, you name it and they have probably thrown it at me."

Sean interjects with a laugh, "So basically everything but the kitchen sink!"

Spider-Man quirks his lips, "Well actually..."

"You've literally been hit with a kitchen sink?!" Sean asks incredulously.

"I've been hit with almost everything at this point. Usually on purpose though they probably just thought I was too slow to dodge. Most times I can dodge, so often if I get hit it's by choice." Spider-Man turns to address the nearest camera suddenly and points at it as if scolding those watching, "Which is why it's extremely important to flee the area if you can if there is an ongoing altercation. The less potential casualties around the more effective I can be, and the more effective the police can be as well."

He turns back to the host and takes a moment to shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"And do you have a higher pain tolerance then, being enhanced?"

Spider-Man shakes his head emphatically, "No I wouldn't say that. I may be stronger than most people but that doesn't affect my pain tolerance. It hurts to get wailed in the face or shot in the arm as much as if it happened to you or anybody else. I just push past that and do it anyway because the alternative might be someone losing their life. I do have enhanced healing, however, so I heal a lot faster than a regular Joe would. That means a bullet that would cause a fatal bleed out in someone normal might be able to heal fast enough on me to not prove fatal. Still hurts the same though. But yeah, I get a lot of sprained muscles, bruises, minor cuts like a split lip or a superficial graze on my body that usually looks worse than it is. I haven't kept count but I've been stabbed -and this doesn't count superficially - maybe three or four times so I guess that averages to maybe once a year. And I've been shot - again, not counting superficial gunshot wounds - roughly twice that on average. Bone breaks are also fairly common but it depends on what I'm doing. It's not terribly common fighting petty crime because they're usually not skilled enough in hand to hand to give me a broken bone but if I'm training with the Avengers, that's where I get weekly broken bones. They heal pretty fast though, usually a couple days.

"Wow they're not kidding around."

"No definitely not. At this level you play for keeps, you know? There's no pulling punches. Going easy on each other in training would just end up in someone getting killed once they come up against the real deal and find themselves unprepared. I've got Hawkeye actually shooting arrows at me, Black Widow trying to crush me with her thighs, Captain America with his damn shield. Breaks my hand everytime I'm forced to catch it with my bare hands instead of my webs. I hate that thing. It's kind of a running joke at this point. I think he secretly enjoys it because of how we first met and I stole it from him and made him look bad."

Sean raises disbelieving eyebrows, "I'm not sure I believe that. He seems so wholesome in the press."

"Hah! He's a nice guy sure, but he can be a little shit when he wants to. Everyone calls me the little shit but I think it takes one to know one! He's going to punish me for that one later, when he sees this."

"Have you ever had any close calls or truly bad injuries? Any moments where you thought you weren't going to make it?"

"Absolutely." He pauses to take another gulp of water and swallows before coughing and turning to blow his nose.

"Ohhh, God, what is my life? Why is this my life?!"

Sean laughs and waits patiently for Spider-Man to get ahold of himself and answer the question.

"Uhhhhh bad injuries. Hmm. I got skewered once with rusty rebar right through my lower abdomen. It thankfully missed vital organs but I lost a ton of blood and nearly bled out before I could finish the conflict."

Sean's jaw drops, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah that was messy!"

Spider-Man promptly yanks up the bottom half of his t-shirt to reveal his lower torso. It is muscled and smoothly toned as expected, marred by a puckered, nasty looking scar on the left side.

Sean leans in a little and squints to get a better look. After a beat he whistles and shakes his head.

He releases his shirt so that it falls back in place, "And I can't go to a hospital so Tony allows me to get treated at the compound with his personal medical team when it's bad enough that I can't just let it heal on my own."

Sean nods in understanding, "So like getting shot."

"Naw, I usually dig the bullet out myself and staple it closed. I usually have enough time to quickly angle so it doesn't hit anything important. So I do occasionally get shot but it's usually not likely to be fatal."

Sean stares in incredulity, "You dig it out... Staple...That's possibly the most badass thing I've ever heard anyone say."

Spider-Man laughs in surprise and it turns into a cough. He dabs at the sweat on his throat, bringing attention to his now damp shirt collar, and sips some more water.

Spider-Man continues, "Nah, it's usually for something life threatening, or that I will need surgery for. And that really sucks because it's super hard to knock me out or give me painkillers because my body metabolizes them too quickly to be truly effective. Usually I have to suffer through it conscious. One time they needed Thor to come in and belt me in the head to knock me out long enough to operate because it would have been too agonizing to sit through awake."

Sean's eyebrows crawl further up his forehead, "I stand corrected. That might be the most badass thing I've ever heard anyone say."

They share a laugh, Spider-Man's bordering on hysterical from discomfort with the spice.

"What about a situation where you thought you were done for? Had any of those?"

"Yes, though no one knows about it."

Sean sits a bit straighter in his chair with peaked interest, "Nobody?"

Spider-Man shakes his head while gasping and sipping more water.

"Alright, story time," Spider-Man allows, "And though there's a lot more to the story I'd like to tell I can't because it would give too much away and put my identity in jeopardy, so you're going to get the CliffsNotes version. But anyway, you might remember a couple years back, I had a few run ins with a guy who called himself the Vulture."

He pauses to sip and Sean nods in recognition.

"So anyway let's just say shit escalated in a real scary way and it all came to a head one night. He ended up causing a distraction which resulted in the building collapsing on top of me. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a strong guy, made of stern stuff, but this was a freaking building okay?"

Sean's mouth drops open and he looks stunned.

"Something else you should also know," he continues, "Is that I didn't have my suit. Most everything I do as Spider-Man is all me, not the suit - besides the webs, of course - so I wasn't defenseless by any means, but the suit provides a little protection, has built in vital stats monitoring to alert Tony if I'm seriously injured or in distress so he can provide assistance, and has built in comms so I can easily communicate with the team in case of trouble. Earlier in the week Tony and I had argued and he took back the suit. We disagreed about some things, it's not important for you to know, but basically all I had was my old suit which was basically glorified jammies. Funny tidbit: Tony often calls me 'Underoos', a nickname that he came up with because of my first suit, the one I was wearing when he met me. It was just a hoodie and sweat pants and a basic mask and goggles and my web shooters."

He paused to turn away and blow his nose and gasp some more and sip some water.

"So I ended up trapped under this structure with no comms, no backup, and nobody knew where I was. I could feel myself slowly being crushed to death and let me tell you, nothing can prepare you for that feeling. I strained every muscle in my body trying to delay the inevitable and I could feel that I only had moments left before the end. And of course my mind went to the people I care about most, my family and how devastated they would be at yet another loss to our family, to my best friend, my 'guy in the chair' who had recently found out about my alter ego and was so supportive and my biggest fan. And then my mind went to Tony who had been a recent big player in my life. He made me an awesome suit and let me explore some of the ideas I had for new Spidey tech while completely footing the bill, as well as generally being supportive and trying to give me advice where he could. And even though we had parted badly I still appreciated him and cared about him and I regretted our last interaction. And that reminded me of one of the last things he said to me as he took the suit back. He said, 'if you're nothing without the suit you don't deserve to have it.' And as the debris pressed the last of the air from my lungs I thought 'he's right you know. C'mon Spider-Man.' and I thought of all the people that would die once Vulture hijacked Tony's plane and the tech got into the wrong hands. I didn't even have enough air left to scream my defiance but defy I did. I stood up from that place somehow, debris raining down around me like an avalanche, and staggered my way after him."

Sean was riveted. "Holy shit! And then what happened?"

"I crashed the plane somewhere safe with the two of us on it, had an epic smackdown, tied him up with a pretty bow, and somehow staggered home to pass out. And hypothetically if I were a student, I hypothetically showed up bright and early Monday morning for school like it was no big deal."

Sean shakes his head in disbelief, "You're unbelievable!"

Spider-Man goes into a coughing fit and when he's finished he's flushed and sweating.

"Thanks! I'm afraid to look over at Tony," he admits nervously, "That's the first time he's heard that story, I don't expect him to take it well. How does he look?"

Sean glances awkwardly off camera and quickly turns back to Spidey.

"Err..." He hedges, "He looks incredibly stony faced. I can see why he's called Iron Man. I think you've got a discussion ahead of you."

The camera cuts to show Tony standing with Happy Hogan behind the main cameras next to a few crew members. He's staring hard past the camera at what is presumably Spider-Man, eyes pinched with guilt. After a moment his eyes shut in devastation and he hangs his head before the camera returns to Spider-Man.

Spider-Man deflates, "Yes I expect so. But that was early in our relationship, we're cool now. Not to spill the tea or anything, but after that incident he apologized and admitted he was wrong. And he almost never does either of those things. It was actually after that incident that he invited me to join the Avengers. Said he was impressed with my integrity and capability."

"I feel like this interview is going so much more differently than I expected," Sean admits, slightly baffled.

Spider-Man cocks his head to the side, "In a good way I hope?"

Sean straightens and raises his right hand as if to swear on scouts honor, "Definitely good!"

Spider-Man claps his hands once and rubs them together, "That's great because it will probably be my last interview ever after Tony murders me at the conclusion of this one."

Sean laughs and Spider-Man turns to look deadpan into the nearest camera and says as his big white eyes narrow, "He thinks I'm joking."

They eat their seventh wing and Spider-Man looks confused for a moment.

Sean smirks knowingly, "Wait for it."

Spider-Man cocks his head curiously and after a moment his mouth drops open in shock and the lenses on his mask bulge comically as he exclaims, "Jesus fuck!"

Sean laughs hysterically and clutches his chest at the sudden and uncharacteristic profanity.

Spider-Man claws at his throat and wails, "Oh my God that is so much hotter. Why is this so fucking hot? Why would you do this to me? You're an asshole, Sean."

The crew behind the cameras can't help but join in the laughter and Spider-Man grips the table white knuckled until the metal groans and dents inwards slightly and he releases it.

Spider-Man jolts and apologizes profusely, "Sorry! So sorry! I'll pay for that!"

Sean waves him off as he gushes, "Are you kidding? We'll keep it as a badge of honor. Dented by Spider-Man himself after calling me an asshole!"

Spider-Man laughs desperately and shakes his head in disbelief and gasps before chugging the rest of his water and pouring another glass.

The host considers him thoughtfully, "Actually I think that's the first time I've ever heard you curse. You're rather well known for your non-lethal approach to conflict and lack of potty mouth. Has sweet, innocent, and wholesome Spoods been a lie all this time?"

Spider-Man doesn't answer right away and instead sticks his tongue into the glass of water in an attempt to assauge the heat. It's an angry red and Sean winces sympathetically. He tries to answer, falters, and goes back to the water. After a moment he wipes his mouth and chin and his running nose. After a few gasping breaths he tries to answer but is flustered and no longer as smooth talking as he has been up until now.

"Uh. What? Oh right. Cursing. Yes. Uh. No. I try not to curse," Spider-Man snaps out shortly in between gasps and gulps of water.

"Why is that? Some of the other Avengers have been known to be potty mouths, I don't think they'd be offended," Sean wheedles.

"No, of course they're not offended. I curse in private with them sometimes. Usually during intense training or if that archer asshole gets a prank over on me."

"Hawkeye?" Sean supplies helpfully.

"Yeah, that one," Spider-Man continues to pretend to not know his name in order to subtly insult him.

Sean catches on quickly and snickers at the slight.

Spider-Man manages to get ahold of himself and supplies, "I try not to curse in public because I have a lot of younger fans. I try to be a good role model where I can because whether I want them to or not they look up to me and follow by example. I'm a scientist by nature, not a fighter, so I try to lead by example and show people that sometimes getting physical can't be helped but that using your words is often more effective and should be the first course of action."

He pauses to moan and put his head in his hands before continuing, his head still in his hands.

"Pen is mightier than the sword and all that. Cursing usually isn't helpful in those situations and actually just escalates things. Most people don't realize that a lot of incidents I respond to I talk down the assailant without even getting physical. But those aren't interesting or sensational enough and don't make it on the news as much as a standoff or car chase would. If everyone used calm, respectful dialogue to resolve conflicts Spider-Man probably wouldn't need to exist."

Sean nods thoughtfully and concedes, "There's much more to you than meets the eye, Spider-Man."

They share an understanding glance for a moment and Spider-Man suddenly interjects, breaking the serious pall, "Having said that, sometimes you need to curse. And I still think you're a fucking asshole."

The whole studio erupted in laughter once again at his serious matter of fact delivery and complete change of character from the joking, friendly guy who first came in, and allowed Spider-Man a few moments to collect himself while they calmed down.

They move on to the next wing but Spider-Man pauses and fearfully looks at the bottle in the center of the table to see what one it is.

Spider-Man eyes the hot sauce bottle for the next wing as he reaches for it and despairs, "Oh god, this is 'da bomb'? This one is always the worst! I watch all the Hot Ones episodes and this one is always the worst. I'm going to die! Here lies Spider-Man. RIP. He saved a lot of cats from trees and had a poppin ass."

The studio erupts in laughter as a bit of the smartass persona bleeds through in his distress.

Sean has already finished his wing and calmly waits for Spider-Man to eat his.

Spider-Man fortifies himself and finally takes a bite and wails in displeasure, "Christ this show is so much more entertaining when it's not me!"

Sean slaps his leg in mirth.

"Yeah I'm not going to lie Spidey, this is going to be good internet."

"UGHHH, I'm so happy for you," he half yells, though his sarcastic tone clearly indicates otherwise.

Spider-Man suddenly focuses on something off camera and his eye lenses narrow into a glare.

"He's mocking me! I'll remember that next time there's a power surge and you're free falling a hundred feet in the air towards the ground!"

There's louder male laughter off screen and Sean turns to look.

Spider-Man points at whoever is laughing, "I'll do anything for you to come over here and clean this wing right now. C'mon hot shot."

Tony Stark waltzes into view and stands next to Spider-Man's chair and smirks down at him.

"Anything?"

"Anything within my power," Spider-Man clarifies.

"The quinjet is due for maintenance next month."

Spider-Man yelps, "That's like a six hour job at least!"

"Yup!" Stark chirped, popping the p.

Spider-Man sighs in resignation and holds up the wing, "As if you werent going to rope me into that anyway. Deal."

Tony smirks as he takes the wing and eats the rest of it without hesitation, noticeably not being bothered by Spider-Man passing him the wing despite his hatred of being handed things and of having to eat from a wing already half eaten by Spider-Man.

Spider-Man watches in anticipation and Tony tosses the clean bone in the trash and nods as he grabs a napkin and cleans his mouth and fingers.

"Not bad," Stark muses nonchalantly.

"Not bad?" Spider-Man repeats, his voice growing in volume, "Not bad?! That's it? Oh my God, I'm going to have a melt down. This doesn't bother you at all? What the hell are you made of?!"

Tony smirks at him and turns to look straight into the camera.

"Iron."

Spider-Man's mouth drops open as Sean is set off into laughter once more.

"Did. Did you just."

Spider-Man and Tony look at each other again.

"Yes I did."

"Get the hell out of here," Spider-Man snaps.

This causes Tony to crack and he starts laughing and grasping his chest as he throws his head back and staggers off camera. Spider-Man's eyes follow his progress, lenses glaring the whole way.

Spider-Man finally turns back to Sean and shakes his head, "The audacity."

This sets off another round of snorts before Sean manages to compose himself to ask his next question.

"Alright Spidey, we have a recurring segment in our show called explain that 'gram where we look at our guest's Instagram, do a deep dive to pull a few of the more interesting looking photos, and ask for a little more context. Does that sound okay?"

"Fine!" He coughs and gasps and finally grabs the milk to drink.

Sean brings out his laptop and shows him a picture of Spider-Man in super hero pose holding captain America's shield.

Spider-Man snorts loudly mid sip and some of his milk splatters. He grabs a napkin to clean up while he tries to compose himself.

"That was actually in Germany, remember when I said I stole Cap's shield? That was it!"

"This was it?! How is there a picture of this?"

"Tony has body cams in some of the tech he makes, for example the Spider-Man suit and the Iron Man suit. He was trying to get under Cap's skin one day and everyone knows he's still a bit salty about it so he pulled up the footage, took a screen grab and made me post it," says Spider-Man as he smirks.

Sean snickers, "How did he react?"

"He roped me into a spar, threw his shield at me, and broke my middle finger. Ironically it needed a splint for a day while it healed so everytime I saw him I flipped him the bird with it. Everyone got a good kick out of that."

Sean shakes his head with a grin, "You guys are insane and hardcore."

Spider-Man laughs in agreement and wipes his runny nose and turns his head to cough politely.

"What about this one?"

Sean shows him a picture of Spider-Man posing with a little girl with a shaved head in a hospital bed grinning at the camera.

Spider-Man momentarily perks up from his struggle with the spice to say, "Yes! That's my friend, Jenny! Nobody really knows this about me but I try to visit children's hospitals when I have the time. It cheers them up. Makes them so happy to see their hero, Spidey. It costs me so very little to brighten their day so I try to do it as often as I can. I met Jenny one day and she asked if I would be her friend and I answered that of course I would! So she wanted us to take a picture to post on my Instagram, which I did with her mom's consent."

"That's so selfless of you. What do the parents and nurses say when they meet you?"

"Oh, I don't think any of them actually think I'm really him. They usually comment on what a dedicated cosplayer I am and how close my costume looks to the real thing."

They both laugh at that.

He continues, "I get asked a lot if I made it myself and I just nod and go along with it. Which isn't a lie, I had a lot of input in the current iteration of the Spider suit. Although Jenny's mom realized I was the real deal when it ended up on my official Instagram! And I guess if they all see this video they'll know it was me all along."

"You didn't tell them it was really you?"

"No because then the focus stays on the children as long as they think I'm a cheesy cosplayer just trying to do a good deed. Once they know it's actually me and word gets out then I get swarmed by fans and it becomes about me. That's not what I wanted. I wanted the kids to feel important and special and loved. A small moment of happiness in what for some of them has been a lifetime struggle."

"Well now I feel terrible, I've outed your secret and you can't get away with it anymore. Apologies, my dude," Sean says regretfully.

"It's alright, you didn't know! I'll figure something out. I'll make quick sneak attacks to visit or something!" Spider-Man reassures him.

They both laugh and Spider-Man turns to lift his mask a little and blow his nose.

"For real though these hospitals can always use volunteers, and everyone sure appreciate it. So if you've got some time, please drop by your nearest kids hospital and offer up a little time to put a smile on a kids face. It's the best thing you'll do all day trust me."

"Okay, second last one, Spoods. Are you still with me?"

Spider-Man drags a hand down his face in exhaustion and plucks at his sweaty t-shirt which is now clinging to him a little more than it had been, his throat glistening with perspiration and Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the milk he's desperately been holding in his mouth.

He raises the arm closest to the camera to reveal a damp underarm, "Look at this shit. I don't even break this much of a sweat fighting the tin man over here." He nods in Tony's general direction off camera and gets a snort from him in return.

"And you've got me cussing now. Ugh, I need a second."

Spider-Man stands up and starts slowly pacing behind the table, hands on his hips.

"It's alright, take a lap, Spoods! Whatever you need!" Sean reassures him good naturedly.

Spider-Man stops, turns around and braces his hands against the wall and drops his head, his back to the camera. He gives a heavy sigh, then after a beat with a small snicker, says, "Oh would you look at the time!" and starts crawling up the wall to escape.

Sean's mouth drops open in delighted shock and he throws his arms up in the air. He turns to look at his crew off camera in astonishment and gives them a giant grin.

Spider-Man disappears from sight but Sean's gaze follows him to the ceiling above the table. A faint thwip sound is heard before Spider-Man slowly lowers himself back to the table upside down in his signature pose, his t-shirt falling up his chest a bit to give everyone an eyeful. He gracefully flips forward into his seat and releases the web.

He tugs his shirt back into place and says, "I had forgotten that's why I don't usually do that in civvies. Oh well, I did warn you I'd be naked by the end."

Sean laughs and looks exhilarated at seeing wall crawling with his own eyes.

"That's amazing! You really don't need the suit for that!"

"Nope! That's one hundred percent Spidey, baby!"

He waggles his fingers at Sean as if to demonstrate and announces proudly, "I'm sticky!"

"That's what she said?" Sean fires back uncertainly and Spidey tosses his head back and cracks up at the dirty joke.

They eat their ninth wing and Spider-Man moans in agony. He gulps down some milk and then dabs his nose and mouth. After a moment he grabs a new clean napkin and turns away from the camera to pull the mask away from his face enough to get a tissue in to wipe at his watering eyes.

Spider-Man turns back around and scolds, "You monster, you've made Spider-Man cry!"

"Oh no, I'm going to get so many hate comments for this! Please don't cry, Spoods!" Sean pleads.

Spider-Man chuckles and it turns into coughing.

Sean suddenly gushes, "Looking at all the footage of Spider-Man in action on the news and online, and of course meeting you in person... You're just so cool!"

Spider-Man barks out a loud laugh at that, "That's actually the funniest thing I've heard all week. Anyone who knows my civilian self would have lots to say about me, but 'cool' would not be in the top five. In fact in wouldn't even be in the top ten, if at all. That's actually hilarious, thanks for that."

"Well they don't know what they're talking about because you are indeed cool and I'm sure most of New York would agree with me!"

"Wow that's so nice, thank you! I love you guys!" Spider-Man gushes back.

"We love you too, Spides! Have there been any super embarrassing moments as Spider-Man you'd care to share with us? What's your most embarrassing moment?"

Spider-Man pants loudly and grabs a couple ice cubes out of his glass to press to his sweating neck, the water dripping down his throat to soak into the collar of his t-shirt. He opens his mouth to answer, falters, and then shakes his head as he thinks about it some more.

"God, I don't know if I want to share my most embarrassing. It was so bad and I went to great lengths to keep the team from finding out," he gasps out in a strained voice.

His neck and cheeks start to flush deeper as he thinks about it and Sean grins widely, "Oh this ought to be good. Don't leave us hanging on that one Spidey! Don't worry, we'll be gentle!"

"Oh man! I dunno!" Spider-Man moans in indecision and agony and takes another gulp of milk.

"C'mon!"

"Oh no, peer pressure!"

He looks into the camera and points his finger as if to coach those watching, "Don't give in to peer pressure kids. Think for yourself and if you really don't want to do something, say no and stick with it. If a situation is getting too overwhelming, leave, get yourself out of there."

Sean looks suitably chastised and looks like he feels bad, "You're absolutely right-"

"Having said that-" he interrupts Sean's apology, "I'm gonna tell you anyway. Close your ears kids, this story isn't for you."

Sean's eyes widen like he can't believe his luck.

Before Spider-Man can even begin his story he breaks off in a distracted tangent, "Be honest with me here, Sean, what kind of aftermath damage am I looking at here? Because I feel like I've swallowed napalm and I've got a spar with Black Widow in less than forty minutes before a team up with Deadpool this evening. Am I going to survive this or should I start composing my epitaph now?"

Sean snickers at him as he gives a low scream and chugs more milk.

"I'll never lie to you, Spoods. I'll be honest with you. I think you might be a dead man."

"Yes I thought that might be the case," he confesses in a defeated manner.

"What possessed you to schedule Black Widow after an interview with hot wings?" Sean asks incredulously.

Spider-Man shrugs, "It wasn't so much that I scheduled her after Hot Ones. It was more that I had committed to the interview and then she told me we were going to fight afterwards. And you don't say no to Black Widow, Sean. If she says you're fighting then you're fighting."

"Does your gym have a bathroom? I'd stick close to the bathroom if I were you," Sean confesses hesitantly.

Spider-Man stares at him for a few moments and his eye lenses narrow dangerously, "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious."

"Fuck!"

"I'm sorry, Spoods, I wouldn't lie to you!"

Spider-Man stares at him for another moment, his lips pressed in a firm line. "Sean, I swear to God, if I shit my pants while Black Widow has me in a headlock I'm coming back for you."

Sean starts laughing hysterically and manages to choke out, "No no no no! You signed the waver! You agreed to this!"

"They'll never find the body," he continues menacingly as if Sean never spoke.

Sean laughs helplessly and presses his hands together as if he were praying.

Spider-Man clears his throat several times and drinks the rest of his milk. A crew member comes forward to bring him more milk. "Thank you so much."

He moans in despair and shifts around in his chair before wiping a few drops of sweat from his throat impatiently.

"Okay right, the story. Ugh. So there is a very small group of people these days who know my identity. The Avengers, one enemy, one family member, my best friend, and a close female friend. That's it."

He pauses to clear his throat, wheeze, and take a drink.

"So it's a night I'm planning to stay over at the compound, to get some early training in for the next morning with the team, but it's also an evening I've set aside for my friends. My best friend is out of town so it's just me and my-" He clears his throat, "-lady friend. She is one of two friends who knows I'm Spider-Man so I decide hey, might as well show her some cool stuff. So we go back to the compound to show her the lab where I work on my gear. I should probably mention it is also Tony's private lab. We share it. We work on all the Avengers gear in there together, me and him and sometimes Bruce. Anyway. I had just finished showing her a cool prototype for a new web shooter I came up with and I mean we're friends and all, but things started to get a little friendlier if you can pick up what I'm throwing down here."

Sean's jaw drops, not expecting this kind of story, "Oh my God!"

"Yeah. So I'm suitably uhhh... Distracted. And while I'm distracted she picks up one of the prototypes and next thing I know she's got me by the wrists. Stuck in my own goddamn webs."

Sean laughs loudly and encourages him to continue, which he does so after blowing his nose and sipping the milk.

"And these things you can't get out of unless you get cut out or you let them dissolve two hours later. So I trusted this girl, and put my guard down -that was my first mistake - and she caught me literally with my pants down, stuck in my own goddamn spiderwebs."

He plucks at his t-shirt in discomfort again and fans at his face with his free hand.

"At this point I'm getting a bit concerned, but she's not stopping so I give her the benefit of the doubt. Fast forward..." Spider-Man hedges, being purposely vague to preserve a little modesty. Spider-Man looks at the camera and his eye lens gives a sly wink, shakes his head and gives an embarrassed laugh before he continues.

"Fast forward a while and she collects herself. Then-"

He needs a moment to shake his head with a rueful smile. "THEN, she says, 'later', and waltzes out the door. As she turned, I caught her smirk. She smirked! She thought this was hilarious!"

Spider-Man is half yelling as the studio laughs and he's shaking his hands in angry emphasis. "So now I'm glued to the fucking lab completely in the buff for who knows how much longer until these things dissolve, and I honestly have no idea if anybody is going to come by the lab at any point and end up catching me. And any of them can, there's prototypes for every Avenger in there so there's a chance they might wander in."

He takes a drink and blows his nose.

"So after an indeterminate amount of time, I am released from my prison. It is bittersweet. Don't get me wrong. It's been a great night-" He pauses to laugh embarrassingly and his lips give a wry quirk, "-but that was some of the scariest shit I've lived through. While I was trapped I eventually started hearing footsteps up and down the hall and I was absolutely terrified someone was about to come in. And it isn't until I'm halfway back to my room when I remember Tony has cameras, like, everywhere. So back I go. Hacked in and deleted it, thankfully."

As the laughter simmers down, Tony from off camera yells angrily, "I can't believe you desecrated my lab!"

Spider-Man laughs and puts his hands up in surrender, "I'm sorry Tony! I'm so sorry! It won't happen again!"

He has to suddenly duck an incoming half empty water bottle aimed for his head that Tony had obviously thrown.

"Don't think I'll let this stand, Underoos. I know what we're watching for Avengers movie night tomorrow."

"Oh God, no! I deleted it!" Spider-Man exclaims in horror.

"I have backups."

"I deleted those too."

"We'll see."

Spider-Man bites his bottom lip, half grinning and half apprehensive.

Sean grins and asks, "Did you get them all?"

"Yes," he confirms confidently. After a moment he whispers uncertainly, "I think so."

"So," Sean says gleefully after a moment, "There's potentially a Spider-Man sex tape floating around somewhere?"

Spider-Man flushes a dark red and laughs in embarrassment, "I mean I'm pretty sure I deleted everything. But potentially, I guess?"

"I'll let you know," Tony quips and they laugh again.

Spider-Man puts his face in his hands and groans in embarrassment, "I can't believe I confessed that. I can just see the headlines once people see this video."

"And your lady friend?" Sean follows up.

"Oh we're fine. I snarked at her the next day and she smirked a lot and honestly I should have expected as much from her. Don't worry, we're still friends!"

"Just friends?" Sean needles.

"... Close friends." Spider-Man hedges after a moment.

"How's she going to react to you telling us all this?"

"Oh, she'll be endlessly amused and probably take a screenshot of me in distress to print out and leave for me to find in various places."

"She's terrifying," Tony mutters, but the camera picks it up.

"Oh yeah?" Sean perks up, looking for more information.

"She's... Something else. She'll probably rule the world some day. And that's all I'll say about that topic for safety," Spider-Man concludes that line of questioning.

"Fair enough. Moving on to the final battle! You've come so far! I'm proud of you, Spidey!"

Sean picks up the last bottle of hot sauce and starts shaking it and Spider-Man bites his lip in apprehension. "Oh no, I know what happens next. I don't like this."

Sean laughs and continues as he opens the bottle and dabs a little on his wing, "Now Spidey, this is called 'the last dab', as you know. For the viewers at home, it's called 'the last dab' because it's tradition around here to put a little extra on the last wing, but you don't have to, we won't judge if you can't handle it."

Spider-Man doesn't hesitate, "Yes you will. You'll totally judge. Hit me!" and holds out his hand for the bottle.

Sean laughs as Spider-Man dabs extra on his wing and agrees, "I mean yeah, we totally would."

"I'm not a spider wimp, I'm not!" Spider-Man jokes in a petulant tone.

Spider-Man takes a deep breath and tries to gather his courage. "God, I'd rather get yeeted into the Hudson again. At least I'd stop sweating."

Sean snorts as Spider-Man devours the wing quickly before he can overthink it. Spider-Man swallows and immediately shouts in distress and starts gulping milk.

Sean laughs and asks his final question quickly, "It's been so great having you on here today, getting to know you a little better. Obviously, all we have really seen of you these past years are the small clips of you swinging or fighting, so it's been great getting to talk to you. I'm sure I'm not the only one who is surprised in that you're much different than we expected you to be. Honestly you're a pretty normal guy, just like the rest of us, except sticky."

Spider-Man doesn't pause in guzzling the milk but gives him a thumbs up in agreement.

Sean continues, "I know there was a lot we didn't cover, that we can't cover for various reasons, but we appreciate you giving us a bit of a peek at the real guy behind the mask. My final question for you is: can you tell us a few fun facts about yourself that we don't already know?"

"Uhhh," Spider-Man choked through the burning pain, "Uhhh... God it's like I swallowed fire. Literal fire. I can't even think."

Sean snickers and blinks rapidly, trying to hide his reaction to the hottest sauce as he finally shows that he is affected.

Spider-Man sniffles and wipes his nose and continues, gasping, "I invented the formula for the synthetic webs by myself, and the gadgets I use to shoot them, long before I met Tony. I used to dumpster dive, that's where I got most of my components."

He drinks more milk and coughs before blowing his nose. "Oh my god it hurts. Food shouldn't hurt. Oh this is awful. Do you hate me, Sean? Is that it? Is this your way of telling me you hate me? I keep New York safe and this is the thanks I get?"

Sean laughs and tries to deny it, "No! No way!"

Spider-Man accepts a fresh glass of milk and chokes out a thank you before continuing, "I, uhhh, I dunno, I enjoy photography."

"As in you like looking at photography or you like taking photos?" Sean asks.

"Well both, but yeah taking photos. I've posted a couple on my social media but I'll start posting more if anyone is interested in seeing that kind of stuff."

"Yeah totally, I bet you get some unique shots being able to get places other people can't," Sean enthuses.

Spider-Man nods, drinking again.

"Uhhh, I'm arachnophobic," he admits, fishing to come up with more anecdotes.

"Wait, what?! Dude, you're SPIDER man! How can you be arachnophobic?!" Sean questions incredulously.

"Ugh, well I can't say too much since it involves Spider-Man's origin story and I don't want people trying to recreate it or something and end up getting hurt, but it was an accident and involved spiders and agonizing pain and almost dying so I think I'm a little entitled to a bit of arachnophobia, don't you?"

Sean is wide eyed as he agrees.

"And on that note, congratulations on making it through. It's been a struggle for you, considering your enhanced senses, but you pulled through like a champ. It should be no surprise to anyone, since you don't know how to quit! It's been an honor meeting you, and hopefully you'll consider coming back someday when you've unmasked and we can have another go."

"Uhhhh, I'll think about it," he hedges.

Sean laughs and points to the cameras, "This camera, this camera, or this camera, let the people know what you've got going on in your life."

"Right, well, I support a number of local charities and they're always incredibly in need, so please consider donating some money. And if you don't have that, maybe donate some of your time. You can find a list of these charities in the description below, and at the end of this video. I'll also be attending a fundraiser for orphaned children at the end of the month. We're going to hang out, take some pictures, have a bit of fun. You can also find information on that in the description, and I hope you'll consider dropping by. Come say hi and tell me how much of a wimp I'm not."

Sean laughs, "Thanks for joining us! See you next time on First We Feast, this is Sean Evans."

The camera cuts to show sometime shortly after the interview, Spider-Man, Tony, and Sean standing around chatting and laughing as the crew walks around cleaning the set. Tony is telling a story involving Spider-Man getting distracted during a mission and body slamming the side of a brick building while web slinging. Sean erupts in laughter and Spider-Man playfully shoves Tony before fishing his ringing phone out of his pocket. He answers it and they curiously watch him.

"Ohhh, hey Nat!" He nervously greets the caller. He pauses while the caller talks and he responds, "Of course we're still on. I'm sorry, I totally lost track of time. I'll-" He gets cut off by the caller and he listens nervously, tugging on his collar. "Errr... No. No of course not. Wait... No. Yes of course. I-" he cuts off what he was about to say and looks at his phone. He looks up at Sean and Tony and his eye lenses widen comically.

"Oh man, she's pissed. I'm late."

Tony smirks, "Nice knowing ya."

Tony and Spider-Man then pose for a group picture with the entire crew, Spider-Man making his signature hand pose. The video goes black as Spider-Man and Sean shake hands and the audio lingers with Spider-Man saying, "Ten out of ten, would not do again," and Sean and Tony laughing.

__________________

Comments:

AceSummer well he's not wrong. that's good internet.

Mrs Spiderman I think I'm in love

Spidey fan aaaaaaaaabs

Sophi Wow he's not at all like I imagined

Bebeetch Spidey on that seventh wing LOL

Benticat RIP Black Widow gonna thigh choke him out

Vistale I would pay good money to watch a Spider-Man bondage sex tape

TweetNinja Hmm it never really occurred to me why he didn't sign the accords

Flameswell Oh man I can't wait for him to finally sign the accords and unmask

PinkJan "hypothetically" lol

dodododododo Guys I just had a crazy idea. I think he might be a student

Nervous Nelly Whatever gave you that idea? Lol

I am a banana High school or college?

dodododododo Probably college. A high schooler can't be that kick-ass can they?

My name Jeff I wonder what he looks like under that mask

MemeLord Probably deformed

waaaaat no I doubt it, he says he hides to protect his friends and family. I can understand that.

Marry me Spides I'd say he's pretty handsome actually, look at that jawww

Kuro2cool So he can do a few tricks, that doesn't mean he should be doing this shit. That's what we pay professionals good money for. He's not a cop.

Benny Yeah and at least they're trained

Roseawayee I dunno, Spidey seems to know what he's doing

Kuro2cool until he's not and gets someone killed

Roseawayee Sometimes the police just isn't enough

EpicChikk omg spiderman is my fave

FunHi Spides once stopped a mugger from taking my purse! He was super nice and sat with me for at least 20 minutes until I calmed down and stopped crying and then helped me get a cab to the hospital. He even paid for it! I love you Spides!

LawnMoon dat ass tho

Margethe Awww blushy spiderman is the sweetest

VanderKit He's so normal, I wasn't expecting that

metawank spiderman sucks

IronManIsMyDaddy Yay iron man made an appearance!

IAmIronStan Anyone else think it's super sweet that Tony came with Spidey for his interview? #friendgoals

The not so incredible Hulk Get Tony on hot ones next!!

IronManIsMyDaddy Yessssss

IAmIronStan I mean he didn't even flinch at da bomb though, when he finished Spidey's wing. It would probably just be a normal interview but with a snack

Spidermenace241 I still think he's a menace

MMM whatcha say J Jonah is that you

JrWaves4 I'm so jealous Sean got to meet him in person

crazycatlady18 I wanna hear his real voice!

MajorFraser There's a couple videos floating around from when he first started and it captured him speaking a little. It was a few years ago so he sounds a lot younger but he doesn't sound too different from the modulator in my opinion

crazycatlady18 I wonder if Sean will ever come across civilian Spidey in the wild? Can't you just imagine Spidey making eye contact and smirking and Sean just getting this look of realization on his face that he's looking at the real deal before the crushing defeat sets in when he realizes he can do nothing about it

GoobleRay Those wings hit him harder than rhino lol

Juztinny Hahaha

TaraSweetie Shit did you see Tony's face after Spides told that story about him getting crushed by Vulture? He looked so guilty

CrownBillion Who'd have thought Spidey was into the kinky shit

Softy4Spidey think his lady friend is a girlfriend or just a fuck buddy?

CrownBillion doesn't matter, he'll never tell us

DJTwinkle I've always wondered if he ever used his webs for bondage

LolaShun Lol wtf dude

wHeN wIlL yOu LeArN Woo Spidey! Get some!

CrownBillion Yeah, was not expecting that story. I dunno, always thought he was too wholesome for that hahaha

Softy4Spidey for what, sex? he's human too, just like us. i'm sure he has needs

CrownBillion I guess I always pictured him fighting crime 24/7 lol

ChicMoto Wow I had no idea he did so much volunteer work, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He's too good for this world and you can fight me on that

ChampionFeline he's a precious little bean

ForShark "sleep is for the weak"

onesbuma00 mood!

henrytech I wonder what he meant when he said things got scary real with the Vulture

MUSTCONSTRUCTADDITIONALPYLONS I dunno but must have been bad to scare this guy. He keeps cracking jokes even when staring down rocket launchers

JuzzFizz He also mentioned that one enemy knew his real identity and that he couldn't say more about his conflict with Vulture because it might compromise his identity. I wonder if it got scary because Vulture found out who he was

henrytech Shit that's terrifying

JuzzFizz And he wouldn't be able to say how he found out because if it was his next door neighbor or something people could just look up where Toomes used to live

henrytech Plus then other criminals could give Vulture the shake down in prison and find out who he is if they know that he knows

BannerBaby Yeah I wonder why that one enemy who knows hasn't told everyone his real identity. Isn't that what evil people do when they find out a secret identity?

henrytech Maybe Spides threatened him to stay quiet?

PenguinBad I mean maybe, but that doesn't seem his style

TotallyNotDeadpool At least in this universe he doesn't strut down the street making weird finger guns, trying to impress women

Cordolicious What the fuck? Where did that even come from?

TotallyNotDeadpool Just saying. That would be weird.

#fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #spiderman #jenniboo311 #hot ones avengers #social butterfly Spidey #humour #peter parker #secret identity #iron man #tony stark

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wanderingcas · 5 years ago

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@trenchcoatandfreckles prompt: “bucolic” or “bungalow” in other words: cas moves to the idyllic countryside and meets dean winchester, who owns a garden shop down the road. destiel. 1.7k. fluff. undercurrent of a quiet desperation to escape one’s life.

“So, where you gonna go?” asks Cas’ nosy, but well-meaning, landlord, holding out his hand.

Cas drops the keys into his open palm. “Somewhere bucolic,” he replies.

Frank wrinkles his nose. “What is that, some kind of sickness?”

Cas picks up the remaining box off the floor, rendering the tiny apartment officially empty. “Sure,” he sighs.

“Well, good luck,” Frank says, wiping his hand on his jeans. “You were one of my best tennants. Hope the next tenant is as dead quiet as you. It was like a tomb in here the whole ten years you were renting, you know.”

“Well. Thank you. I think.” After a tentative handshake with Frank, Cas sees himself and his box of records out.

Two weeks ago, it seemed like a good idea. He was on his stiff couch, wine glass in hand, browsing available bungalows to rent in a rural part of New York that he’d never heard of before. His eyes scanned an available cottage: the honey wood floors, the tucked-in ceilings, the herbs dangling from the kitchen ceiling, sunlight streaming. He looked around his sterile, hyper-modernized studio apartment and there was no contest.

He sent an application for an available house to rent in the same breath that he sent a move-out notice to Frank.

The commute to his current job, of course, would be an hour’s train ride, compounded with the fifteen minute drive to the station. His sister Anna called him last week to inform him that he was possibly having a mid-life crisis.

Now with his apartment all boxed up, and sitting on a train with his box of records and the moving truck a day in front of him, Castiel is beginning to agree with her.

The bungalow Cas rented is nestled between two cherry blossom trees. He feels like he’s read about it in a book somewhere. There’s a daily farmer’s market a mile away, with another empty and unrented bungalow in between. Apart from that, he’s alone but for the birds and fields and sunshine.

He loves the isolation more than he should. He calls in sick to work the first week. Then the next. It morphs into him writing a truncated email to his boss announcing his resignation. He deactivates his email after that.

There’s enough in his savings to get him by, he assures a hysterical Anna over the phone after he breaks the news, and he’ll find a job closer to where he lives. (He again refuses to tell Anna his new address, knowing it’ll only end up in her showing up with a small army to drag him back to the city)

With his self-imposed free time, he starts a garden. The lofty dreams of cooking with fresh herbs and vegetables fill his mind for days, until he’s greeted morning after morning by empty soil with no sprouting green.

He gives up after a week. Googling nearby garden shops points him to the only one within a forty-mile radius: Winchester Hardware & Garden. He rides his bike a couple of miles down the dirt road, past the farmer’s market, to the small, unassuming green building that’s only slightly bigger than his own bungalow.

A bell obnoxiously announces his arrival as he pushes open the rusty screen door. He’s greeted with shelves upon shelves of sloppily organized garden supplies, seed packages, and planters. There’s a counter tucked into the corner with a cash register valiantly craning its neck up from the cluttered mess that surrounds it.

“Just a second!” calls a voice from somewhere amongst the shelves. There’s a crash that follows.

Castiel cranes his neck around one of the shelves, looking for the source of the commotion. “Do you need help?” he calls back.

“Nope, should be good,” assures the disembodied voice, “just this goddamn—” There’s no elaboration as another, louder, crash punctuates the end of the sentence.

Castiel stands awkwardly in the door frame, unsure of whether to help or flee a potential crime scene, when a tanned and dirty-blonde man rounds the corner. He’s clutching something white and pissed off in his arms.

“Sorry about that,” the man says, breathing heavily. He locks his arms tighter against the cat struggling in his arms. “Can I help you with something?”

Castiel stares at the cat. “Was that what all that banging was?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” The man playfully jostles the cat, eliciting a low meow. “She gets into the back of the shelves where all those dangerous tools are, and I have to make sure she doesn’t cut her own head off.”

Castiel doesn’t point out the issue of housing a cat in a store with dangerous tools in the first place. Instead: “I see.”

“Her name’s Fluffy,” the man offers.

“But she has no fur,” Castiel says as Fluffy proudly swishes her naked tail.

“Yeah. It’s hilarious.” The man grins. “My brother picked her up from the side of the road. Kid has a bleeding heart for helpless animals.” Fluffy is deposited on the counter, where she sits and glares; the man turns and crosses his arms. “So, anything you need?”

Castiel rips his gaze from the man’s very piercing, very green eyes. “Yes. I’m having a problem with my garden. I think it needs fertilizer.”

“Elaborate on your problem,” the man says.

“Well, nothing’s growing,” Castiel explains, trailing off uncertainly as the man once again disappears around a corner.

“Any pets?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Any pets,” the man says impatiently behind a shelf, “any pets that would get into your garden and eat stuff when you’re not looking.”

“Well… no. No pets. Although I was thinking of getting a cat.” Castiel glances at Fluffy, who is grooming a naked paw. “One with fur.”

The man barks out a laugh. He comes around the corner, holding a large box propped on his hip. “And you’ve been watering them? Pulling any weeds around them?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure that you’re not pulling the plants accidentally instead of the weeds?”

Castiel fixes the man a look. “I’m not that stupid.”

Raising a hand in surrender, the man says, “Hey, you’d be surprised the stories I get from other customers.” He deposits the box onto the counter. “Well, this should help—good old fashioned plant food. Works for most things you’re trying to grow.”

After doing a quick calculation of measurements in his head, Castiel decides, “I don’t think I’ll be able to take that today. I rode my bike here and I’m not sure I can fit the box anywhere…”

“Relax, the bags are inside.” The man pulls apart the box’s top and hoists out a much smaller bag, one that will undoubtedly fit into Castiel’s backpack. At Castiel’s confirming nod, the man rounds the corner and types a number into the ancient cash register. ‘Fluffy’ rubs against his hand, slowly the process. The register inexplicably dings. “It’ll be 25.50,” he announces.

Castiel fishes his wallet from his back pocket. “Do you take a credit card?”

“Yeah.” The man chews at the bottom of his lip, frowning down at Castiel’s fingers that are fumbling to get the credit card out of the tight wallet’s pockets. “You said you biked here?”

“Yes,” Castiel says amidst the struggle, “why?”

“Nah, just that… you can’t live very far from here, then?”

The credit card finally emancipated, Castiel hands it across the counter. He notes the dirt caked underneath the man’s fingernails as their hands brush. “I just began renting a house a few miles down the road. Just a week ago.”

The man grins. “You’re one of Benny’s tenants?”

“I think that was his name.”

“I know him. Nice guy. Runs a diner when he’s not landlording way too many properties.” The man slides the credit card through a small attachment on his phone, frowning again in a thoughtful way. “This might not work, you know.”

“The credit card?” Castiel asks.

“No, the plant food. This whole area used to be a swamp—so the soil sucks.” He pets Fluffy’s head distractedly. “So you might have to come back anyway.”

“I did notice that the soil was sandy,” Castiel agrees. “Should I… Buy anything else in lieu of this?”

The man rubs the back of his neck; Castiel is momentarily distracted by the way his fingers leave imperceptible tracks in his tightly trimmed blonde hair. “Well, if this doesn’t work, I’d have the examine the soil. See if the acidity is right, if the plants are getting enough sun, that kind of thing.”

“So you’d have to come over?” Castiel asks, taking the card that the man hands back to him.

“Well, yeah.” The man clears his throat. “To examine it, and everything.”

“That wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

The man sweeps his arm in the air to gesture to the quiet shop. “Well, I suppose you would be taking me away from my customers that so obviously need me.”

Castiel huffs a laugh. He tentatively holds the bag of plant food in his arms. “Then I’ll come back and ask for your help if this doesn’t work.”

They smile at each other, a beat too long, a beat too delayed to notice a shift in the energy between them. “Who should I ask for?” Castiel is somehow able to miraculously ask, after the moment that is a beat too long.

“Huh? Oh. Dean. Ask for Dean. That’s me, I—” The man, Dean, shakes his head as if to get himself to stop talking. He reaches out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, uh—”

“Castiel. Cas.” Castiel holds Dean’s hand and shakes. It’s warm and softer than he’d expect a gardener’s hands to be.

“Well, great. Cas.” Dean drawls Castiel’s name out thoughtfully, carefully, like tasting a fine wine. Castiel suppresses a shiver. “I’ll see you again soon, then. Maybe.”

“Maybe.” Castiel adjusts the bag in his arms. “Goodbye, Dean. Fluffy,” he adds, nodding at the cat who is ignoring the situation, and instead is stretching to great lengths in order to lick her backside.

Castiel steps out into the warm air; the bell on the door that announces his departure is less obnoxious now. He unlocks his bike, adjusting the kickstand, wincing at the creak of the rust on the metal.

Placing his backpack carefully onto the bike seat, he opens the zipper and deposits the bag of plant food into the backpack. Very sternly, he whispers to it, “Don’t you dare work,” before zipping up his pack, and riding on the dirt road back to his new home.

↳ prompts are open for mowripro, send one to my askbox.

#wanderingwrites #mowripro #destiel #inacatastrophicmind #spncreatorsdaily #destieldrabblesdaily #destiel fic #woefulcas #galaxystiel #i might make this into a longer fic? who knows #i like the setting a lot #and the thought of gardener dean is *thumbs up*#(also cas is totally going to get a job in the garden shop just fyi)#(and will have a lot of adventures with fluffy and dean)#q

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mushroommouth · 5 years ago

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The Good Mourning Part II

A/N: So…I would like to formally apologize for this chapter.

When I post it on Ao3 I’ll have a more detailed author’s note about a couple cut scenes, decisions about this chapter, why some characters are distinctly OOC and junk, but I wanted to get this to you guys hot off the presses.

It, uh, got out of hand. There will be one more chapter after this one, and it will not be nearly as long. This chapter does not follow my happy ending guarantee because it’s the middle part. And, uh. You might want to get the bummers tag ready for this one, Em.

Also, it ended up being, like, 10k words. Tumblr messed up the spacing, but it it was too long to fix and still let me sleep tonight. (This morning?) RIP.

Donna still doesn’t have rights. Enjoy!

-Skye (👻)

—

“So…who is Aaron exactly?”

After the diner, Dan had called it for the evening. Cody was dropped off at his home, and Dan and Milo had returned to a painfully silent house. Dan’s mom had gotten back to them, frantically asking if everything was okay because Jake was not there either.

Dan had to explain in hushed tones over the phone that everything would be alright, that Jake just… wasn’t home.

Milo went straight to bed, thinking he was too emotionally and physically exhausted to have nightmares. Instead, he woke up gasping at the crack of dawn, with a scream dying in his throat. Milo tried to sneak down the stairs but instead found Dan still sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the television.

Milo suspected that Dan didn’t sleep at all.

The two wordlessly got into the car and began the second road trip in two days, this time to a town a few hours out. The only break in silence was Dan ordering breakfast at a fast-food joint for Milo and one large coffee for himself.

There was still the unanswered question, though, that Dan never really answered the night before. Now that it was spoken out loud, without any hesitance, there was clearly no way out of it. Dan sunk a little in his seat, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Aaron is… Jake’s brother,” Dan started carefully.

“Jake has a brother?” Milo whipped his head around to face Dan so quickly that the seat belt locked.

Dan chuckled slightly watching Milo struggle to try and get it to loosen again, mentally making sure to choose his words very carefully.

“Technically, yes,” Dan said slowly. “He wasn’t- he isn’t a…good person, though, Milo. He used to hurt Jake. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“…Yeah.” Dan took a long slurp of his coffee. “I’m not his biggest fan, and that’s putting it lightly. Luckily, Jake and I went to school fairly far and I thought we’d never see him again. I was hoping for that, at least.”

There was another moment of silence as Milo finally gave up and unbuckled himself to try and fix the seat belt. After a few attempts, it finally was gliding correctly, and Milo slumped back to get more comfortable.

“So why are we looking for him?” Milo asked.

“What?”

“Why are we looking for him if he’s like… a bad guy?”

Dan drummed the steering wheel for a moment, thinking.

“He’s still the only person that knew Jake first. As awful as he was to Jake, he still might have some ideas worth looking into.” Dan carefully chose to leave out the whole ‘vengeance’ part. “Aaron might know things we don’t.”

“How do you know where we’re going, anyway?” Milo asked.

“Oh,” Dan snorted in response. “He, uh, came up in the paper awhile ago in a segment about, uh, fostering kittens.”

“Is that something you’re making up to make me feel better? Because that sounds fake.”

“Scout’s honor.” Dan turned to look at Milo out of the corner of his eye. “I thought it was fake, too.”

“I didn’t know you were a Boy Scout,” Milo yawned.

“Yep!” Dan smiled briefly at the memory. “How about you get some shut-eye? It says we’re supposed to hit some more traffic here in a minute.”

Milo nodded sleepily before leaning his head against the window. He watched trees blur past for awhile before ultimately dozing off.

—

Milo woke up to Dan gently nudging him.

“Hey, kiddo. We made it.”

“Wuh…” Milo sat up, rubbing his eyes until the bleariness went away.

In front of them was a somewhat-gaudy bakery. A sign in a cursive too curly to read glistened in the early morning sun. It hung above a striped pastel green balcony which fluttered in the breeze. The wooden door swung open. A customer walked out, holding a cake close to their chest, grinning ear-to-ear. They called something back to whoever was inside, presumably the baker.

It seemed… pleasant.

“Are we at the right place?” Milo asked.

“Yep.” Dan got out of the car and stretched before walking over to Milo’s side. He opened the car door and offered his hand. “Do you want to come in or stay in the car.”

“Come in,” Milo said without hesitation. He unbuckled and took Dan’s hand.

They walked hand-in-hand to the door. Dan hesitated with his free hand over the knob for a moment, taking a deep breath. Milo squeezed his hand tighter, not looking up. Dan took that as a confirmation. With a deep breath, he swung it open.

A bell chimed from the door, getting the attention from the woman behind the counter. She glanced up for a second before logging the receipt.

“How can I help y’all today?” She asked, moving over to fill the gap in the display from the earlier customer.

“We’re looking for Aaron,” Dan said cooly.

The woman froze, before pulling back from the display to face the two fully. She fidgeted with her hands for a moment before speaking again.

“Uh, I know he is pretty popular for cake requests, but you really need to do any reservations online or over the phone. The cupcakes in the display are for sale, though!” She smiled sheepishly, showing off a mouthful of braces. “…My boss got me in trouble last time for doing that, and I need this job to help pay for school.”

“We completely understand.” Dan smiled warmly. “We just need to talk to him about a family matter.”

With that, she perked up, smiling brighter.

“Oh! Okay then. He’s out back taking a smoke break. If you guys want to wait here, he shouldn’t be much longer, but-“

“That’s okay. We don’t want to interrupt you.” Dan took a step back toward the door before pausing. “Actually, can I get a cupcake?”

—-

The two sat in the car for a moment, waiting for a moment for Dan to regain his bearings.

Milo ripped the wrapper off and eyed the pumpkin-flavored cupcake. It seemed harmless enough, but when he went to take a bite, Dan held up one hand to stop him.

“One second.” Dan said.

He handed Milo the stack of napkins he stored in the console (a result of being an older sibling; Dan always grabbed more than enough for three people “just in case.) Dan then dug in the change potion of his wallet before producing a small pill wrapper.

“It’s Lactaid.” Dan explained. “The cashier said they use cream cheese icing.”

“Oh! Thanks.” Milo grabbed pill and the water bottle from the cup holder. “I always find these in weird places.”

Dan snorted.

“Yeah,” he said. “Jake sticks them in random places he knows we’ll always have on us because you’ll eat…whatever it is anyway. He said it’s so we are ‘never caught without them.’”

Dan watched Milo take the pill and begin eating for a moment. Then Dan rubbed his face and leaned against the car. Aaron hadn’t emerged from the back yet, meaning they still had time to go talk to him, but…

It always was a foreign feeling. Dan, all these years later, still felt the shrapnel of frustration and, despite his mother’s gentle reassurance and pleading, hatred for the Pierlys and how they hurt Jake. Dan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to swallow back down his anger.

The drive wasn’t as long as he’d hoped. The cupcake bought him a couple minutes. He couldn’t waste many more or the two might lose their chance.

Dan felt tired.

(Was this how Jake always felt?)

“Hey, Dad?”

That snapped Dan back to reality. “Hmm?”

“Do you want to try it?” Milo had broken off a piece and held it out to Dan, though Dan wasn’t sure how long Milo had been offering it to him before he spoke up. Something in Milo’s expression made this seem like a test.

“Sure?” Dan took the piece hesitantly. He only chewed it enough to swallow it; he was sure it was nerves, but it just tasted like ash. “Are you ready?”

Dan seemed to pass the test. Milo relaxed ever-so-slightly before nodding. The two got out, and, though Milo didn’t take Dan’s hand this time, he followed Dan so closely the two were almost touching at any given moment.

Dan lead them to the back of the store, which seemed ultimately unremarkable when compared to the front. A dumpster was slightly overfilled with boxes from a recent shipment. A handful of wooden and plastic crates were littered across the ground.

A few were stacked as if to make them more comfortable to sit on. Perched on top of this throne of garbage was a man smoking a cheap cigarette.

He was lanky, almost spider-like in proportions when compared to Dan or Jake. His dark, somewhat greasy hair was slicked back into a messy bun, exposing the row of piercings on his ears. The dark work-shirt had cat hair sprinkled across it, though he didn’t seem to either know and/or care. The apron had been discarded, likely left inside.

He looked up briefly at Dan and Milo before glancing down at the cigarette. He ashed on the ground before clearing his throat and speaking.

“The store entrance is the other way,” he said. “If you want a reservation, you need to do it online or over the phone.”

Milo blinked in surprise before tugging on Dan’s sleeve, who had ceased all movement.

“Wait,” Milo asked. “That’s Aaron?”

That seemed to get the man’s attention. He stiffened a little in his seat.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re Jake’s family,” Dan said cooly. “We wanted to talk to you for a moment.”

That seemed to do the trick. All the color drained from Aaron’s face as he shot up, stumbling back over the crates. He dropped his cigarette and tried to regain his balance using the lip of the dumpster. He bust out laughing for a second, nervously slicking his hair back.

“What is this?” Aaron asked. He bent over and fixed the crates before sitting back down shakily. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“You’re Jake’s brother right?” Milo grabbed Dan’s arm with one hand, leaning forward (but not wanting to step closer) to make his presence clearer. “We’re looking for him.”

“Oh, so this is some kind of a sick joke.” Aaron clenched his fists, before shaking his head as if to clear whatever he was thinking out of his head. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”

Milo winced a little, tightening his grip on Dan’s sleeve. Dan simply glared at Aaron, not taking moving his gaze.

“And tell them what, Aaron?”

Aaron winced and wrapped his arms around himself.

“I…” He let out a dry laugh. “If I tried to run, you could just snap me in half, huh?”

Dan didn’t respond one way or another, still boring his eyes into the younger man. Milo tugged at Dan’s sleeve to respond. When more silence followed, Milo let go of Dan’s sleeve and stepped in front, redirecting Aaron’s attention.

“Listen, it’s been a long couple days. I…just want to know what happened,” Milo said quietly. Tears were beginning to bead in his eyes. “I’m just finding out about— well, all of this, and I want to know what happened to him.”

Aaron sat for a moment thinking, before slowly unwinding his arms from his torso. He finally sighed and grabbed one of the crates and kicked it to Milo. The plastic scraped against the ground, skidding to a stop by Milo’s feet.

“Fine. Go ahead and have a seat, kid” Aaron said. “And you guys owe me a cigarette.”

—

“So, what do you want to know?” Aaron seemed to completely ignore Dan and instead diverted his attention to Milo.

Milo shrugged, fidgeting his hands. Dan had a hand on Milo’s shoulder as if getting ready to yank Milo away from Aaron at any moment.

“I don’t know…just-can you tell me about him? About you guys?” Milo looked up at Dan, who just squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

Aaron snorted.

“Well, kid, I’m afraid I can’t help you much there. We fought a lot. Then one day, he left. And then he-“ Aaron swallowed, digging in his pockets before pulling back out the carton of cigs. “If you’re really his family, you know what happens next.”

Aaron was not telling the whole story. That means…

“Tell me.” Milo said, without any room for questioning. “The last couple of days have been some of the worst in my life and I want to know what happened to Jake.”

“I’m sick of people not telling me what’s going on.” Milo stood up, shaking off Dan’s arm. His felt his face heating and tears beading up in frustration.

“I want to know the truth!”

Aaron blinked in surprise, his eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh god,” Aaron murmured. “You were that kid, weren’t you?”

“What kid?!” Milo cried. “What happened?”

“Milo…” Dan warned. He reached out, but Milo whipped around and knocked his hand away.

“Dad, I just- I just…I’m just so tired of this, and all these secrets, and…”

“I know,” Dan said quietly. He slowly and gently reached back out and tugged Milo into a hug. “You’ve been very brave so far.”

Milo froze before sinking into the hug. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, holding onto Dan like a lifeline.

“I’m not dumb.”

“I know, Milo.”

“If you guys had told me, I’d…”

“We know.”

The two stood like that until Milo’s breathing evened back out. When Dan glanced back up, he was surprised to see Aaron intensely watching the interaction.

He had paled, clutching the hem of his shirt with his free hand. Something flashed in his eyes—something like yearning or craving, even— before he blinked and it was gone.

“Your name is Milo, then?” Aaron asked quietly.

Milo turned slightly, peeking out of the corner of his eye at Aaron.

“It’s my fau…I killed Jake.” Aaron said. “That’s what happened.”

The immediate silence was deafening. Aaron swallowed before continuing, eager for anything but.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just—I used to…hurt him, and I’d hurt him a lot. When he left, and it was just me and our mom, I just got angrier. If I’m not a good person, our mom was…” Aaron just shook his head. He pulled out another cigarette from the carton, looking it over.

“Anyway, he left. Things got worse. And I found out where he lived. So, I packed a bag of things to get revenge, make him hurt as bad as I did—or something. I don’t really remember the details other than I was angry.”

Aaron lit the cigarette, taking a drag.

“So I showed up that afternoon. I was going to make him hurt. But soon after he answered the door, before I could do anything, he just…” Aaron cleared his throat. “You came running out, and I realized just how badly I screwed up.”

“I was there…?” Milo asked quietly. Dan said nothing but tightened the hug, seeming to be more for his sake than Milo’s at this point.

Aaron just nodded.

Milo began shaking slightly from within Dan’s grasp, but he had to ask.

“How did he- how did he die then?”

Aaron let out a dry laugh. “His heart gave out. Right there, pretty soon after I walked in. I didn’t even do anything yet, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t call for help, part because I was freaking out too bad and part because I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“‘Cardiac arrest,’” Dan recited under his breath. “‘Caused by the combination of lack of treatment, physical stressors, and shock in seeing his allegedly estranged brother.’”

“Beefcake over there got to your house and called for help, but it was too late. That’s it.” Aaron took one last drag of the cigarette before putting it on the ground. He stood up and stomped on it, smothering the remaining embers. “That’s the end of the story. Sorry you came all this way to hear it, but I gotta get back to work.”

Aaron shrugged off any looks he was getting, bumping into Dan’s shoulder in the way back to the building. He made it to the door before

“Wait!” Milo said. Milo looked up at Dan, who instead took over.

“Jake’s…not gone.” Dan stated carefully.

Aaron stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

“What?”

“He’s not, but he might be soon.” Dan took a step forward, finally letting go of Milo. “If you feel bad at all about what happened, help us. Please.”

—-

Aaron set Dan and Milo up in the shop as he wrapped things up. He talked briefly to the cashier before calling his boss. After a few minutes, he returned to the two at the table. He began to re-do his bun before speaking.

“Okay,” Aaron began. “I’ve got to finish icing a few cakes, but the owner is coming in early to cover for me for the day. I’m going to use one of my sick days, so you better be serious.”

“Dead serious.” Dan said sternly, before all three cringed. “Okay, bad choice of words. But as soon as you finish up, we’re getting out of here.”

“Whatever.” Aaron rolled his eyes. “I just need to get back by tonight. I didn’t hire a cat-sitter.”

“You have cats?” Milo asked.

“I have one. I’m fostering some kittens though, too, for the time being.”

“What’s your cat’s name?”

“Her name is Tom. She’s sixteen now.”

“That’s kind of a dumb name.”

“Hey!” Aaron slammed one hand on the table, pointing with the other at Milo. “It’s a great name. Get it? Like a tomcat? Listen, she’s a delight. You, meanwhile, wouldn’t get it of course, because you’re just a little—“

Dan cleared his throat before Aaron could finish his statement, causing Aaron to jolt in surprise.

Aaron took a breath to collect himself before slicking his hair back again.

“Ugh. Whatever. Yes, I have a cat. She’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, so watch your fucking mouth. Just tell me when it’s time to go.”

Milo and Dan watched Aaron storm back to the kitchen. After some clanging around and grumbling, Aaron seemed to be re-focused on the task at hand.

“He’s a bummer.” Milo grumbled.

Dan laughed quietly, covering his hand to stifle it.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Dan replied. “This is actually the best mood I’ve ever seen him. He…”

Dan’s voice trailed off.

“..He’s kind of a super jerk.” He finally finished.

Milo snorted. “Yeah, I can see that. Do you think…do you really think we can trust him?”

Dan watched Aaron intensely detail the cake he was working on for a minute.

“…I don’t think we really have a choice, Baby Shark.”

“Dad, please don’t call me that.”

—-

It took awhile for Aaron’s boss to show up. He didn’t look or address Dan or Milo at all. Rather, he went straight to the back to talk to Aaron.

Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t to see Aaron’s eyes light up at the sight of his employer.

The two bantered back and forth for a moment before the boss turned to look Dan and Milo over. He pulled Aaron aside and their conversation became hushed.

After a moment, though, Aaron emerged sans apron.

The boss stepped out slightly, leaning against the kitchen entrance. He pointed at Dan.

“You. Bring him back in one piece or you’ll personally cover the price of every cake he misses. And Aaron?”

“Yes sir?”

“Get a goddamn haircut before you come back to work.”

Aaron snorted, trying to stifle back a smile. “You wish, old man.”

He turned around to face Milo and Dan. The smile and light from his eyes faded like a deflating balloon.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.” Aaron went to the door, opening it and gesturing the two out.

Milo took it gladly, ready to get out of there and continue the search for Jake. He began walking to the car, which Dan unlocked from the store entrance.

“Uh, Milo?” Dan called.

“Yeah?” Milo asked, already opening the passenger door.

“…Can you clear some space in the backseat? I need to talk to Aaron for a minute.”

Milo looked the two over and frowned. Aaron seemed just as confused, but Dan gently nodded Milo on. So, hesitantly, Milo agreed. He shut the passenger door and instead climbed into the back.

While clearing out the junk from the early morning trip in the backseat, Milo snuck a glance up at the conversing adults.

He met eye contact with Aaron, whose intense glare was unwavering for just a moment. Then Aaron sighed, broke it, and said something to Dan.

Milo jumped and hurried up, climbing into the front seat before the adults returned. He saw Dan and Aaron nod in agreement before heading toward the car. He sprawled across the passenger seat, trying to seem as unsuspicious as possible.

Dan scratched the back of his head as he began to climb in the front.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Nothing.”

Dan chucked at Milo’s response as he buckled. He stuck the key in the ignition and stopped, looking up to watch Aaron climb in the back.

Aaron grumbled under his breath, trying to adjust his legs so they weren’t pinned against the back of the front seats. The grumbling turned into mild swearing as he struggled more to get comfortable. Finally, he gave up and laid across the back seat, leaning against the window. Aaron caught Dan’s eyes in the mirror and scowled.

“You ready?” Dan asked.

“What does it look like?” Aaron snapped. Dan shrugged and started the car.

Dan pulled out of the parking spot and drove until he came across the first gas station.

“Okay, so we need to fill up before we hit the road. I’ll be just outside the car filling up. If you need anything, let me know. Last stop for bathrooms, too, until we’re on the road.”

“Okay!”

Aaron didn’t respond. Dan tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“Milo, if you need anything, I’m right outside the car-“

“I know, Dad.”

Dan sighed and pulled up to a pump, taking out the keys and leaving the door cracked behind them.

Aaron stirred again from the backseat.

“So, a ghost, huh?”

Milo jumped slightly, turning around.

“Jake’s a ghost now?” Aaron clarified. Milo nodded, so Aaron continued. “What does a ghost even look like? What, is there a white sheet or something?”

“I dunno.” Milo said. “He just looks like Jake.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even realize— I didn’t even know he was dead. He just…looks like Jake.”

Aaron paused in thought for a moment.

“I didn’t even-hm. I don’t even believe in ghosts or whatever. What made you find out he was a ghost then?”

“What made you decide to become a baker?”

Aaron looked Milo over before chuckling. “I asked first.”

“We…” Milo slunk in his seat a little. “I found out on accident from some cleaning stuff. We got in a fight. He disappeared.”

“Well, I know a thing or two about fighting with Jake.” Aaron turned to watch Dan pump gas from the window. “Welcome to the club, kid.”

“Not like that!” Milo unbuckled entirely to turn around, holding the back of the car seat. “We just got in an argument. You hurt him!”

“Ah.” Aaron smiled lazily up at Milo, not getting up from his sprawled position. “That’s the funny thing about hurting someone. You can do it so much better without ever laying a hand on them. Our ol’ mom was a natural at that.”

“I-“ Milo looked at Aaron with a blank expression for a moment, face flushing, as a sudden swirl of emotions tried to fight its way to take the front.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, though,” Aaron continued. “You guys seem…close. He didn’t, I don’t know, poof away sooner. Jake’s always been good at leaving. But he stuck with you two.”

Aaron looked back out the window, leaving Milo to stare at him. Milo swallowed harshly, his face still feeling warm.

“Your turn. How’d you get into baking?” Milo asked quietly, eager to change the subject.

“I didn’t mean to,” Aaron said. “I actually applied to become a cashier, but one day my boss was overwhelmed with reservations, so he showed me some tricks so I could help out for the day.”

“That’s it?”

“Nah,” Aaron laughed. “It turns out I was really fuckin’ good at it. My boss is thinking about paying for me to go to culinary school when I’d never really cooked a day in my life before. I just had a knack.”

“Huh.”

“Of course, it helped that I was good at carving the fondant, cutting the tips of icing bags as to not let too much ooze out, using a torch to caramelize… just. Precision.” Aaron looked back up Milo through the corners of his eyes. “Turns out we both got something out of Jake, huh? You, what, a father figure? For me, practice for my future career.”

All the flushing— all the color— drained out of Milo’s face in an instant. Aaron forced a grin, watching as Dan climbed back in the car.

“Okay, so—Milo? Are you okay?”

Milo whipped his head around, staring at Dan wide-eyed. Dan reached over and felt his forehead.

“It doesn’t feel like your fever came back. Are you feeling alright?”

“I…” Milo looked back over at Aaron before sitting back down in his seat correctly. “I just want to find Jake.”

Dan sighed.

“Seconded. Where should we head first?”

“Depends,” Aaron said from the back seat. “Where have you guys been so far?”

“Uh…” Milo tugged at his hair slightly to focus on the task at hand. “He’s not at our house or Dan’s parent’s house. We stopped by a gross old bar where he played apparently, his school, and a bad restaurant.”

“We also visited his grave.” Dan added.

Aaron snorted. “Well, there’s your problem.”

“What?”

Aaron finally sat up correctly, ignoring his knees knocking on the back of the front seats. He stretched slightly before continuing.

“You went places that are happy for him,” he said. “You didn’t go anywhere that he would have clung to in a bad way.”

“But we went to his grave-“ Milo started. Aaron just held one hand up to cut him off.

“Yeah, and that’s sad and all for you guys, but that’s the biggest sign of how loved he was. It was meant for him. It wasn’t even, like, just a ‘RIP’ message.” Aaron leaned forward. “You gotta go somewhere that sucked and he could never move on from.”

“Do you know where that is?” Milo asked.

Dan sighed as Aaron burst out laughing.

“The house he-“ “-we-“ “-grew up,” they said simultaneously.

“Didn’t it burn down?” Dan asked.

“Haha! Nah,” Aaron laughed harder. “Not on its own! Besides, they rebuilt the place but made it newer ‘n shit to boost ‘curb appeal’ or whatever.”

“Wouldn’t Jake have already gotten to Donna then?”

“I wish. She sold the property— hoo, I haven’t laughed that hard in a bit— before construction could begin.” Aaron wiped the stray tears out of his eyes. “Last I heard she’s living in a one-person apartment somewhere and some newlyweds are living in the new place.”

“Wait,” Dan turned around slightly to look at Aaron. “Are you not- do you not talking to her anymore?”

“Ha! No.” Aaron’s smile fell momentarily before forcing it back to where it was. “It’s hard to do that when she put a restraining order on her only living son, but—god, but it really is for the best.”

“Hm.”

“Is that where we should go then?” Milo asked.

“It’s your best shot,” Aaron said.

“But there are people living there now, and—“

Dan rubbed his face with his hands, thinking for a moment. Finally, he slammed his hands back down on to the steering wheel.

“Okay. Okay. Alright. Let’s go find Jake.”

—

The drive was entirely unremarkable. Aaron was silent almost the entire time, spending most of the trip sleeping. Milo took turns playing on his phone and listening to the radio, trying to preserve his battery to the best of his ability.

Dan sat tensely, not taking his eyes off the road. In the long lull of the highway, he occasionally drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. Milo tried to strike up conversation with him a few times, but Dan was too lost in thought to notice.

It wasn’t until Milo fell asleep (though he wouldn’t admit it) that Dan finally spoke up. It was hoarse from the brief period of disuse, soft and sad.

“Hey, we’re here.”

Milo jolted up immediately, looking around trying to see where this house of horror was. Instead, in front of them was…

“This is Cody’s house.” Milo said. Only silence followed, and Milo felt his stomach begin to sink. “Dad, is it-is it near here? Are we just picking up Cody, or walking to save gas or something? Are we-“

“You’re going to be staying with Cody until we get back.” Dan interrupted.

“No- no, no no no.” Milo reached over and tugged at Dan’s sleeve. “You can’t be serious. Dad, I thought we were in this together.”

“We are.” Dan turned his head slightly to face Milo. “When we get back with Jake—“

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Dan sighed. “I know.”

“Milo,” he continued. “I don’t know how Jake’s going to be…feeling when we find him. There’s a chance he’s not going to be himself, and I’m sure he wouldn’t like you to see him like that.”

“Then what was all this for?” Milo cried. He began tugging at his hair, frustration bubbling over. “Why’d you take me along if- If you were just going to ditch me-“

“Milo!” Dan grabbed Milo’s hands, holding them firmly but gently. “Milo, this wasn’t part of the plan until I realized Jake probably isn’t looking to talk.”

Milo froze, trying to pull back out of Dan’s grasp.

“…What does that mean?”

“I’ll explain it when we get back.” Dan let go, pulling his hands back and settling them in his lap. “And we will be back. Jake, me-“

“Preferably not me.”

The two jumped at the sound of the third voice. Aaron leaned forward, frowning tiredly but clearly had been listening to the whole thing.

“I’ve got to get back to my cats, remember?”

Dan let out a breathy laugh.

“See? It’s just for a bit.”

“Dad…”

“Milo, we’ll be back—after I drop Aaron off, I guess— and we won’t come home without Jake.” Dan forced a smile. “I promise. Just stay here where it’s safe just in case. Please.”

Tears began to bead up and steam down his cheeks as Milo looked at Dan intensely. After a moment, he unbuckled and flung himself at Dan, hugging him tight. Dan froze, surprised by the sudden movement, before relaxing into—and returning the hug. The two stayed like that for a moment, silent except Milo’s quiet sniffling.

Aaron cleared his throat.

“Again, we’re on crunch time, guys.”

Milo finally pulled back and wiped sloppily at his face.

“I’m still really mad at you.”

“I know.” Dan wiped some of Milo’s tears away. “But we’ve got to ‘get on the grind,’ right?”

Milo laughed a little, but he didn’t take the bait to make fun of Dan and change the subject.

Dan watched Milo climb out of the car, grabbing the stuff he packed for the morning road trip. He forced a smile again in Milo’s direction, waving slightly.

The car was filled with a suffocating silence as Milo walked to Cody’s door and knocked, and Dan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He readjusted the rear view mirror to get a better look at the backseat—and now only—passenger.

It had been one week since the Pierly house burned down.

Jake was sitting on the couch, clutching his head and taking quick, shallow, and ultimately unnecessary breaths. Dan was sitting next to him, rubbing his back.

“I can’t keep this up.” Jake wheezed. “I can’t- God. I can’t-“

“I don’t know what you mean. You’ve been doing great so far! It’s not like Milo really knows any better yet, but you’ve been able to hold most drinks and-“

“No, Dan. You don’t understand.” Jake glared up from in between his arms, his irises now a flaming red. It was odd to see that expression, though it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.

Dan’s hand began burning. Steam pillowed up from his palm, so he ripped it away, quickly rubbing the burn. He recoiled further as Jake’s whole body glitched in a showy display, though Dan made sure to be never out of reach.

“They’re still out there.” Jake murmured.

“Who?”

“My mother. Aaron. Dan, Dan, I can’t-“ His form glitched further, and Jake clamped his hands over his mouth to cover an anguished groan.

Dan could have sworn, just for a second, Jake seemed skeletal.

Dan paused before reaching back out, ignoring the burning, simply to lay a hand back on Jake’s knee. They sat there for a bit, waiting for Jake’s breathing to even out. Once it did, Jake leaned back on the couch and laid his head on Dan’s shoulder.

“…What if…Hey, Dan?”

“Hmm?”

Jake counted his breaths, still leaning against his best friend. He laid a hand on each knee, palms facing the air.

“When I came back, I was just…angry. I was angry at them. I was angry at myself. I wanted to hurt them for what they did to me. Dan, I still do—more than anything, just, like…I don’t know. It’s like…sometimes I can’t focus, and all I can do is feel and…” Jake swallowed. “Dan, what if, one day, that’s just it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if one day I’m just…angry? I chase it, or, more specifically, I chase them. And that’s it, I’m not me anymore at all. I’m gone, and nothing but anger.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Jake laughed dryly. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m going to drag you back, whether you like it or not.”

Dan sighed, forcing a smile at Aaron, restarting the car.

“You ready?”

“As much as I can be.”

“You…could probably move up here if you’d be more comfortable.”

“Nah, I’d rather not sit next to the guy using me for ghost bait.”

Dan shifted the car into reverse but did not take his foot off the break.

“What?”

“C’mon, you think I haven’t seen Scooby Doo? Or literally any ghost movie?” Aaron smiled back lazily. “I might be dumb but I’m not stupid. As soon as you pulled me aside to say you didn’t plan on taking the kid, I knew you’re just going to throw me in there and hope for the best. Am I wrong?”

“…No, but! I have a plan.” Dan turned back to the road pulled out of the driveway. “If he’s looking for you, then we get you inside. You distract him long enough for me to salt a circle around the house, and then we talk to him and convince him to come back home.”

“It doesn’t seem very thought out.” Aaron fiddled in his pockets before producing his lighter. He flickered it a few times. “It also sounds like you’re setting me up to be killed.”

“I’m not. He’s just…angry with you.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can say it. I, along with my mother, ruined his short and miserable life, and were the reason for his life being so short and miserable. It’s pretty much all over your face, anyway.” Aaron looked out the window. “I can’t blame him.”

“Why are you going along with it then? If you knew this whole time…” Dan trailed off, trying to remember how to get there based off of memory alone.

“Mind If I smoke in here?” Aaron asked.

“Actually, yes-“

“Too bad. Consider it my last meal on death row.” Aaron lit his third cig of the reunion period. “And to answer your question…I don’t know.”

He took a drag before continuing, cigarette still in his mouth. He talked out of the other corner of his mouth.

“I keep telling myself I’m on my way to be a good person. I have the chance to make amends of any kind, even though it’s…weird. If I don’t take it, can I really call myself a better person, much less a good one?”

Dan looked at him through the rear view mirror. Aaron immediately turned red, shrinking in on himself for the slip of the tongue.

Dan was quiet for a moment, rolling down a window to air out the smoke filling the car.

“It’s not your last meal on death row. Unless you try something—in which case you have to worry about me coming after you— nothing’s going to happen.”

Aaron just laughed and rolled back up the window. He took out the cigarette out of his mouth and glanced in Dan’s direction.

“You make a lot of promises, big guy. Do you think you can keep all of them?”

—-

The new house was charming. It was a quaint blue suburban with a well-kept yard. The driveway was empty and all the lights were off but the ones outside the door, seeming to welcome in any visitors that might come its way.

It was hard to imagine a furious blaze that destroyed its predecessor. Or, even before that, the screaming matches, the blood and tears shed that painted the halls.

“Damn, you weren’t kidding.” Dan and Aaron sat in the car, parked at the street. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“I’m positive,” Aaron said. “The real question is how we’re going to get in. Are we just gonna, what, waltz up to the door? ‘Hey, we’re looking for a ghost of one of the guys that lived here when he grew up. Don’t worry, he didn’t die here, but I was the one that burned it down!’”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Dan shrugged. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s at home, though.”

Dan reached and grabbed his pre-packed backpack.

“Okay, I have kitchen salt and walkie-talkies and I think those have full battery.” He tossed one to Aaron who looked at him blankly.

“Why the fuck do you have these?”

“Because I’m an adult and I can. Make sure yours is on channel 2.”

“Okay, but-“ Aaron flipped his between his hands. “If I’m inside and you’re salting the outside or whatever, wouldn’t it be easier if I just. Y’know. Yelled?”

“Maybe, but we’re guests. It doesn’t look like anybody’s home, but I don’t want to wake up the whole neighborhood.” Dan got out of the car, looking back over his shoulder at Aaron. “Besides, this way lets me get back to you right away.”

“Okay, okay. New question,” Aaron said as he climbed out of the car. “What if he’s not even here? This was just a hunch, and it’s not like me and Jake were the closest. This was a bad idea. What if-“

With that, the sound of a guitar strum filled the air, the vibrations of which seeming to shake Aaron to his core. The sound caused the front door to crash open and the porch lights dimmed before turning to a brilliant cyan.

Aaron took one horrified look, but before he could climb back in the car, Dan clamped a hand on his shoulder and closed the door behind him.

“No, I’m pretty sure Jake’s here.”

—

“…And they just left you?”

Milo, laying face-first on Cody’s bed, just groaned in response.

“Why?”

“Too dangerous.” Milo lifted his head up just enough to talk. “Dan said something about Jake ‘not being himself’ or whatever.”

Then Milo slammed his face back down on the comforter and groaned again. Cody sat down on the edge of the bed, patting Milo’s back.

“Want to talk about it?”

Milo shook his head, but pulled himself up and scooted to sit next to Cody. Milo sniffled, laying his head on Cody’s shoulder.

The two sat like that for a moment, Cody thinking. Something was off about this, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

“Did Dan go by himself?” He asked.

“No.” Milo replied. Cody kept looking at him expectantly, so Milo sighed before continuing. “He went with Jake’s jerk brother.”

“Huh.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“Did Jake or Dan ever tell you what happened in the haunted house? With the demon?”

“No. I don’t really remember anything about it really except waking up in the hospital.” Milo said. “Jake didn’t visit me because he was si-Wait a minute. That was a lie too, wasn’t it?!”

Cody just laughed nervously in response.

“Ugh. So. What did I miss, then?”

“Well, I mean. You were tossed from the third floor, so I guess it makes sense that you don’t remember. But…after we moved you, Jake got really quiet.” Cody absentmindedly touched the nicely-healed scar on his forehead from the flying debris. “He told me to keep us out of danger? I guess?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Then he kinda. Blew up? I guess? His skin-“ Cody shuddered. “He became a skeleton and his clothes changed to this suit. He yelled ‘no one hurts my family,’ and then he…ripped the demon apart, piece by piece.”

Milo was quiet before lifting his head off of Cody’s shoulder.

“Jake did?”

“Yeah.”

“The blonde one.”

“Yes, Milo, I can tell apart your dads.”

“…Sorry. Continue.”

“Okay, so-“ Cody began. “The house caught on fire a little bit because Jake was on fire and he was burning the…remains. That’s when Dan showed up.”

Cody fidgeted with his hands for a moment.

“Jake turned back to normal, but he used too much energy.” Cody continued. “Then he was…gone. Dan picked you up and helped us get out.”

“Why’d didn’t you tell me that…?”

“Jake is a ghost?” Cody shrugged. “I thought about it, but I thought it was something he should say. Besides, once he was back to normal, he looked really sad and…scared?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I think part is that he was worried about what you’d think,” Cody said. “And part because it was scary to see him mad. It was like he couldn’t focus on anything but beating the demon. I think he burned up a lot of energy; it took him a long time to reform.”

The room was quiet for another moment before Milo spoke.

“Dan and Aaron are going to the house Jake grew up in because it’s somewhere that would make him upset still,” he said. “Do you think…”

“That he might be vengeful?” Cody swallowed a lump in his throat. “Maybe. Probably, if it’s somewhere upsetting enough trigger that mode.”

“Wait,” Milo paled. “Do you think Dan’s in trouble?”

“…Maybe? I don’t- oh! I know! Do you know the address?”

“Uh, no.” Milo shrunk in on himself slightly. “But I think they said the town.”

“Dang. Well, I guess that’s a place to start.” Cody got up went to the computer. “Okay, so we can look through 9-1-1 logs online. If the people living in that house called the police, the transcript should be here. And so if they called the police-“

“Jake isn’t acting like Jake.” Milo finished.

“Yep!” Cody sat down on the office chair, typing some stuff in before freezing. “This…might take a bit, trying to narrow it down to the address.”

“Wait- the house is new I think. Aaron said something about somebody burning it down.”

“That helps! If I look up the town and arson- do you know when that happened?”

“I don’t know. Jake said he died about 10 years ago, and Aaron said their mom put a restraining order on her only living son, so maybe it was about the same time?”

“Okay…so if we narrow it down…” Cody trailed off, furiously typing and clicking through the pages. “Oh! I think this is it. House burned down…suspicious in origin… ’Donna Pierly could not be reached for comment at this time.’ Aaaaaaand- here’s the address!”

Cody opened a document and copied and pasted the address.

“Okay, so now let’s look through the 9-1-1 logs.” Cody was silent for a moment, digging through some files. He seemed to find it and froze, before turning around and forcing a nervous smile at Milo.

“Okay, do you want the good news or bad news first?”

“Good news,” Milo said.

“Good news is, Jake was there at least as of last night. Bad news? He’s almost certainly in vengeance mode and Dan (and Jake’s brother, I guess) are probably in trouble.”

—

Aaron was in trouble.

Dan cracked open the salt as the two stood on the doorstep.

“Remember, if you need me, use the walkie-talkie. As soon as I’m done, I’ll be right inside to talk to him.”

Aaron simply glared at Dan as a response. Dan gave a thumbs up. Aaron looked away, sighed, and took a step inside.

The door immediately slammed behind him.

The house was dark. Pictures lined the walls of complete strangers.

A young couple was featured in most of them. Some were of their families; seeing all of them smiling, pictures hung with nothing short of careful thought and love made Aaron’s stomach churn in jealousy.

As Dan earlier suspected, the house was empty. The lights were all off, though there was faint music coming from the direction of where Jake’s room once was.

Aaron took out his phone and turned on the flashlight feature. He turned it around, looking around the house.

More pictures. Some plants. The house’s layout was different, but it was still the cleanest Aaron had ever seen it. It was charming. Aaron’s eyes caught a painted portrait of the Virgin Mary. It was set up in the living room with a frame painted gold.

Aaron went to take a closer look, when he felt breathing on the back of his neck. Aaron whipped his head around. No one was there, though blood suddenly splattered the hallway where Aaron was moments before.

Aaron gasped and staggered back, into a solid form. It grabbed his shoulder before spinning him around.

A skeletal form was standing there. Its- no, his- blonde hair was the only real recognizable feature. His features were sharp. He was wearing a sharp suit, though slightly decayed at the ends.

“You.”

Aaron broke into a cold sweat, immediately taking a step back. The ghost didn’t move, simply glaring daggers.

And, as such, Aaron took off running toward the door. The specter made no approach.

Aaron began furiously wiggling the knob, which had locked itself sometime after Aaron entered. As he went to unlock it, a searing pain shot through his fingers. Aaron recoiled, stumbling backwards.

He looked at his hand, seeing the start of a burn. Blisters were already beginning at the tips of his fingers.

Aaron swallowed, clutching his injured hand. He sighed, trying to muster up as much courage as he could, before turning around.

“You can’t run back to Donna this time,” the ghost said. “You don’t just get away with what you did.”

“…Jake?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Jake vanished before reappearing a few feet in front of Aaron.

Aaron backed up, pressing against the door. Aaron hissed in pain as the door knob, still scalding, pressed into his lower back. Aaron sidestepped to try and move away from the door, inching toward the living room. Jake watched him.

“Hey…bro…” Aaron said, trying to change the subject. How long does making a salt circle take, anyway? “How have you been?”

“Funny thing about that,” Jake started.

The skeleton form began to shutter, his joints jerking sporadically. It glitched a few times before Jake’s skin reappeared. It really did look like Jake, though he was still wearing the suit.

And his eyes were glowing red.

“I’ve been dead, Aaron.”

It took a second for Aaron to register that he was looking up at Jake. Jake was hovering a couple feet off the ground, closing in the distance.

Jake picked Aaron up by his shirt, holding him up.

“You already forgot? Because I think it goes like this-“ Jake turned around and threw Aaron, leaving him skidding across the floor. “You showed up. You came to my home to hurt me again.”

Aaron swallowed harshly and forced himself to a mostly-sitting position.

“It wasn’t enough when we were little. You came back that day, to what? Finish the job? I’m dead. I have been for a decade.”

Cyan flames began rising behind Jake. It didn’t seem to burn the furniture, but Aaron was able to feel the heat already. He began scooting back, shaking a bit in fear.

Jake watched Aaron’s slight retreat for a moment before exploding. Embers went flying, scattering across the room. Some landed on Aaron, which he quickly tried to brush off and put out.

“Say something! Say anything!”

Aaron cringed before realizing he’d have to speak. He racked his brain but said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m sorry.”

Jake froze as Aaron forced himself to continue.

“I hurt you, Jake. Mom and I- you shouldn’t have had to deal with that. With us. But this isn’t you.”

Jake glared at Aaron for a second before lowering so his feet touched the floor. Despite the fiery color of his eyes, his glare was icy.

“You wouldn’t know.”

“You’re right! I probably wouldn’t. But I was with your family all day. And they never stopped talking about you or looking for you.”

Jake’s eyes softened for a moment before his form shuddered. His back arched before his upper body lurched forward marionette with cut strings.

“My family? Dan tried to get rid of me. Milo hates me. And you…”

Jake took one step toward. His form glitched again, this time appearing…younger. He looked like he did when he left home, wearing baggy clothes and hair dyed black. Bruising covered half of his face. However, this form seemed completely deadpan.

“You made me become this.” Jake’s hands caught on fire. “How’s that for family, Aaron?”

“Jake-“ Aaron felt his pockets for the walkie-talkie but came up empty.

He whipped his head around the room, and instead saw it toward the door. It must have fallen off when he was thrown. Aaron looked back up at Jake wide-eyed.

“We never had to be alone, we never had to deal with Mom. It could have been us against the world.” Jake glitched again, briefly appearing as a child with broken fingers wrapped in a homemade splint. As soon as it was there, it was gone again. “But you decided a broken toy would be more fun.”

Teenage Jake grabbed Aaron by the leg with his still-burning hands. Aaron yelped in pain; it didn’t burn the fabric of his pants at all, but he felt the burning underneath.

He dragged Aaron back toward the living room before dropping him.

“Listen, I’m sorry-“ Aaron tried again.

“Quit saying that!” Jake cried.

“No! I-I’m not. Jake, it’s okay to be angry.”

Jake froze.

“Listen, I hurt you. Mom hurt you. I’m trying to become a better person and, my therapist made me realize something.”

Jake’s form shuddered again, though he didn’t approach Aaron further.

“You can be angry. What you went through-what we went through. It only makes sense to be angry.” Aaron pulled his injured leg back slowly, trying not to get Jake’s attention in doing so. “But if we let it consume us, we just hurt the people we care about.”

“But Mom-“

Jake finally showed emotion again. It was an expression that Aaron had only seen for seconds at a time. It was a look of panic and pain. Seeing it on the younger Jake, bruised and battered all these years later was almost too much.

Almost.

“Jake, I haven’t seen Mom in years.” Aaron forced a laugh and pulled back more of his hair to show off his ear piercings. “I took a page out of your book. I got out and- and I could do anything I wanted! I got these done because I knew she wouldn’t approve. Not to mention the tattoo-“

Jake glitched and raised an eyebrow.

“Your point.”

“Oh! Right. I finally went to therapy. And, Jake…it’s now like I instantly became I better, or-whatever, because that’s not how therapy works.” Aaron slowly began getting himself up, trying not to set off Jake.

“But I realized just how bad our Mom was. And how bad I was. Of course you’re angry. I’m angry too, a lot. No one asked you to forgive me. If you let it consume you, you just…repeat the cycle.”

Aaron stood up fully, trying not to put pressure on his burned leg.

“This isn’t Donna’s house. I burned it down years ago. This is just some random strangers’ place now.” Aaron held out a hand. “Just because it wasn’t us against the world then doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, too. Or that I’m not sorry.”

Finally, Jake’s form glitched until it was back to his adult form, though he still had the expression of a distrustful child. His eyes flickered cyan for a moment, looking at Aaron’s hand.

“I-“

“Jake, your family is waiting. They miss you want you to go home.”

Just as Jake began reaching for Aaron’s hand, the walkie-talkie went off.

“Aaron, I’m almost finished setting up the salt circle. I’ll be in in a minute. Over.”

Jake looked at the walkie-talkie and back at Aaron before grabbing his hand. Aaron screamed in pain as Jake’s hand ignited, fire running up his arm.

The fire retreated after a moment and instead spread across Jake’s body, bringing back the skeleton form. His eyes were solid flaming red as he glared at his younger brother.

“‘Go home’, Aaron?” Jake asked. “I should have known this was a trap. I can’t believe I actually trusted you. Well…”

A circle of fire sprung up, trapping Aaron though never searing the floor below.

“If I’m going out, I’m taking you with me.”

“…Shit.”

—

“We need to get there now! But how do we…” Milo trailed off, beginning to pace the room.

“By car would make most sense.” Cody said.

Milo gasped. He stopped and walked over to grab Cody by the shoulders, looking at him with starry-eyes.

“We steal a car!”

“No, we’re not stealing a car. First off, neither of us know how to drive. Second, that’s pretty illegal.”

“But-“

“Milo, we’re not taking a car.”

“Fiiiine.” Milo groaned and let go of Cody. “What do you suggest then?”

“Well, how okay are you with getting grounded?” Cody asked.

“Joke’s on you,” Milo grinned. “I’m already grounded. What’s your plan?”

“I know my dad’s Uber log-in.” Cody smiled. “We order a ride, sneak out and head that way immediately.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” Milo nudged Cody in the ribs, grin only growing larger.

Cody just burst out laughing.

“Bold of you to assume I’m not the one that kept you around. You’re pretty much feral, Milo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s save my dads!”

—-

Making a salt circle around a house was a lot harder than Dan thought it would be.

The first obstacle was trying not to run out of salt early. Dan thought he bought a lot when he picked it up from the store, but apparently he was cutting it close.

The second major obstacle was the fence. The owners had locked it, and Dan circled the perimeter. There was no other way to get it other than climbing the fence.

Dan thought suburban houses were nice. But the tall fencing was suddenly the bane of his existence. Despite the fact that Dan would consider himself to be pretty strong and relatively in-shape, trying to heft him up over slick wood was distinctively Not Fun.

After that, he had to figure out where to continue the salt circle. The house was silent, and the walkie-talkie hadn’t gone off. Dan carefully continued the salt circle from each end, about to meet in the middle.

The house was still silent. That sat in Dan’s stomach like a rock, so he took out his walkie-talkie.

“Aaron, I’m almost finished setting up the salt circle. I’ll be in in a minute.” Dan said into the device. Leaving it there felt odd, so he hesitated before adding an “Over.”

As Dan finished the circle, a shriek came from inside. Dan dropped the container instantly and took off running into the building.

—-

Flames were licking everywhere. Even though it didn’t burn the house and remained smokeless, it still ate up oxygen.

Jake watched Aaron cough as the circle of fire slowly closed in. He had collapsed to his knees sometime earlier. Various burns were scattered across his body already, though Jake just watched as his coughing grew heavier.

Once he seemed sufficiently dazed, Jake waved away the fire surrounding Aaron.

Jake held out one hand and summoned his guitar.

Aaron barely had the time to look up as Jake swung the guitar directly at his head.

Suddenly, the world seemed to topple over.

—

Dan rushed in, watching Jake get ready to swing his guitar at Aaron’s head.

Dan didn’t really have time to weigh his promises to Milo and Aaron, so he took off running.

He managed to shove Aaron out of the way, but the body of the guitar caught him full-speed in the side of the face.

And

the

anchor

cracked

and

broke

—

“Thank you!” Cody called to the driver. Milo already took off running for the door.

Technically, he leapt out as the car was still moving, pulling into the driveway. He stumbled a couple times, but nothing could stop him after he saw Dan’s car.

“Milo, wait-“

Milo wiggled the door knob, crying out in frustration when it wouldn’t open.

“It’s locked!”

Cody waved quickly to the driver before running up to the door.

“Check under the mat.” Cody instructed.

Milo with shaky hands lifted the welcome mat and produced the spare key. He tried to unlock it, but his hands were shaking too badly. Milo dropped the keys and cried out again.

Cody just scooped it up and unlocked the door for him. Milo rushed in, but almost toppled over skidding to a stop as he took in the scene.

The room was still hot. Aaron had dragged himself in one corner, nursing some of the worse burns on his arm. He seemed barely conscious .

Milo whipped his head around before seeing Dan on the ground. Kneeling near him was a flickering, translucent Jake.

“-ilo, I’m -oRry-“ Jake looked up at Milo with wide and panicked brown eyes. Tears were streaming down Jake’s face.

Milo took a shaky step closer. As he approached, he realized Jake was trying to cradle Dan’s head, but Jake was phasing through him entirely.

“MiLo…” Jake held out a hand, though it vanished. No glitching. No light show. His hand just disappeared.

Piece by piece, the same thing happened to Jake’s form. He was disappearing. Jake looked himself over before trying to force a reassuring smile to Milo.

It was entirely unconvincing, though, with the waterfalls cascading down his cheeks.

Milo fell to his knees, shocked and unable to bring himself to approach more. Tears began trailing down his cheeks too, but Milo didn’t immediately realize it.

Jake’s legs disappeared, then his torso chunks at a time. It began occurring quicker, until Jake was essentially just shoulders and a head. He looked at himself again, and then back to Milo.

“I lOve yoU.”

And like that, Jake faded away entirely.

Milo didn’t process Cody running over, turning over Dan.

He didn’t process Cody gagging at the swelling already occurring on the side of Dan’s face, or Cody telling him that Dan’s cheek or jaw was almost definitely broken.

He didn’t process the slight blood trail dribbling down Dan’s lips from broken teeth, or Cody moving rolling Dan on his side.

He didn’t process Cody calling for help, or sitting next to him to hug him tight and say whatever reassurances came to mind.

No.

All Milo could focus on were the pieces of Jake’s guitar, from the broken neck to the fractured body, a faint cyan glow still illuminating it in the dark room.

#LOOK HOW HARD I CAN CRY #LOOK AT IT #HHHHHHHHHFNNNNNNNNN #i have no words im so upset #hHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #im gonna have to come back and ramble about this but im SO UPSET MY BABIES....#friend art #fics #mico #milo #cody #dan #jake #aaron #ghost jake #submission

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cywscross · 5 years ago

Note

got any f/f fic recs?

Okay so apparently not Final Fantasy but femslash. I’m stupid, sorry. Uhh I don’t read that many femslash compared to slash but I can name some:

NARUTO

Sing as their bones go marching in again by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

Instead, it goes like this: Haruno Sakura is the daughter of two civilians, from civilian families. She is nothing and no one—smart, yes, top kunoichi, yes, but she will never be on par with clan kids. She is teammates to an orphan powerhouse from a dead clan and the last remaining Uchiha.

Haruno Sakura is nothing and nobody, but she breathes and grows and thrives and the forest thrives with her.

(She opens her eyes to wood, grown from nothing, and Hatake Kakashi stares in disbelief at the tree where his student used to be.)

Or, Haruno Sakura should have had the goddamn Mokuton and this author is mad.

No one there to shame me for my youth by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

What she hadn’t expected was to be what is apparently next in line for Kakashi’s position—although, she supposes it was inevitable—or for the nurses at the hospital to look at her with such adoration.

Sakura’s not complaining, she just hadn’t expected it.

(She’s the medic on a team of powerhouses, the backline fighter to Naruto and Sasuke’s brilliance, and she never thought it would be her people looked at like this.)

But it is her; and as she gets glances and propositions from both civilian and ninja, from male and female alike, she wonders.

The Fair Maiden by Tozette (Sakura/Ino)

Basically: Princess Ino has been kidnapped by the terrible dragon Sakura! Brave knights Chouji and Shikamaru must rescue her from the fearsome beast. It... does not go entirely as expected.

The Shinobi version of Pride by grit (Sakura/Hinata/Karin)

The coffee sways dangerously.

“Why,” Sakura interrupts, before the chaos can get any worse, “are you in my kitchen?”

every fire is a lesson learned by blackkat (Konan/Sakura)

Just when Konan has lost hope, she meets a hero.

three birds watch and the fourth flies by grit (Minato!Sakura/Kushina)

There's a legend in her hands like clay, so she must work hard to be formidable, to be everything he was and she isn't, because what if she screws up the future, selfish enough to make space for her own?

She pours over heaps of sealing scrolls and tries not to think too hard on what happens if she fails.

Or: Timid Minato but this time around, she's Sakura.

throw it my way (all the love you keep) by amako (Sakura/Ino)

The crux of the matter is: they don't have a Hokage, the one that could be Hokage is sharing a Moment with his soulmate or whatever, and when asked to take the mantle again, Tsunade had broken a few bones. Not hers, obviously.

will to live by justdoityoufucker (Sakura/Ino)

Sakura joins the ANBU. The entire world seems a little tilted after that, but they all adapt.

Bumpy Future by Dovey (Sakura/Hinata)

It's her last year at the academy when Sakura hits her head. When she wakes up, she has a little trouble matching memories to the people in them- but she'll have to get it right eventually, yeah?

in which sakura pairs vague associations with the wrong people, and everyone is much happier because of it (Except Iruka-sensei).

the Rebel ‘verse by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

(Three things come after that:

The moment of realisation. The moment she realises Sasuke’s left the village, gone off to do who knows what with Orochimaru-

Her memory returns to her - she was useless against her teammate; taken down by a pressure point and unable to do anything to prevent him from getting at it.

Inner rages, throws herself around, cursing and screaming until finally, finally she calms and she says Uchiha Sasuke is a traitor.)

In which Sakura gets the character development she deserved.

shattered dreams into rhapsodies by blackkat (Kushina/Mikoto)

For the prompt "I’m a monster/guardian that the local village give sacrifices too and you’re the new sacrifice but don’t worry I won’t eat you, I’m kinda lonely"

-0-

HARRY POTTER

Four Walls (And the Right People) by blackkat (Lily/Narcissa)

“Is coming in there going to make me lose my will to live?” Lily calls, amused.

“No!” Harry protests, wounded, like she and Narcissa haven’t previously walked in on structural damage, fires, flooding, and mysteriously conjured cat-sized dragons. Sirius has been a terrible influence on them.

the girl who lived (again) by dirgewithoutmusic (trans!Harry/Ginny)

Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, "is this a Muggle thing?" Hermione had hurried out a "no!" and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

"It's just that I'm a girl," Harry had said, and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry's plate at breakfast. Harry slept in Ron's room, which didn't bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited, Molly put her on Ginny's floor to sleep-- for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn't "shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is."

-0-

GAME OF THRONES

When Warp Is Fire And Weft Is Ice by afterandalasia (Dany/Sansa)

People tell many stories about them, the Mother of Dragons and the Queen in the North.

Some of them even have a grain of truth in them.

a strangeness of sunlight by musicforswimming (Dany/Sansa)

Someone calls Sansa home, and sets her free in doing so.

Ivory and Dragonglass by madeinessos (Rhaenys/Sansa)

For the valar-morekinks prompt on livejournal: "Rhaeneys follows in her father's footsteps when she and Sansa run away together to the free cities so they can be with each other . Both ladies left a letter to their families so that their absence wouldn't spark the embers of another rebellion."

Sansa in Dorne by sear (Arianne/Sansa)

Alayne Stone wakes confused, in the body of the young maid she once was. She has returned to Winterfell, before everything went wrong. All she wants now is to be free, to never be hurt again. Dorne will give her that.

Mirror of the sun by myrish_lace (Dany/Sansa)

Daenerys arrives at Winterfell to attempt to treat with Jon Snow. She's immediately side-tracked by her fascination with Sansa Stark, and the two grow closer. Told from Daenerys's point of view.

-0-0-

And these are genderswap femslash, in case you’re not a fan:

TEEN WOLF

Utterly Appropriate by wynnebat (Peter/Stiles)

There's only one person whom Stiles would marry, and whoever has asked for her hand isn't on that list.

Spin a Web of Silk by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

“Darling, will you marry me?”

Stiles stared into the eyes of the light of her life, the one who held her heart- her love.

And then she looked back at the man who had asked the question.

“Yes.”

Sugar Babies Not Sugar Vaginas by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles is a copywriter working for a service that's been contacted by a company that sells something called Passion Dust. It's so much worse than it sounds.

Free Birth Control by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

“I can’t believe they haven’t fixed the footbridge yet,” Peter said, disgruntled as she toweled off her feet, getting all the muck from the creek off of them.

“I can,” Talia said absently as she shelled peas on the front porch. “The only people who use that bridge are you, Stilinski, and Stilinski’s clients. And Stilinski does her best to avoid clients. Did you hear what she did to the woman who took out the bridge?” Talia settled further back into her chair. Peter immediately recognized it as Gossip Position, and leaned in eagerly.

“No, tell me everything.”

Ain't No Stranger (Been This Way Before) by pibroch (littleblackdog) (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles loved orgasms, and she really loved the shuddery, mind-numbing orgasms Peter had spent months meticulously and enthusiastically learning to coax out of her. She also loved the relief from cramps she’d get from a good climax or four, and Peter had no complaints about blood. Definitely a win-win, all around. - Stiles has a period from hell, and Peter has a surprise.

On The Loose by SmartKIN (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles has a job to do; Hot Lady Sniper almost ruins it for her.

The Same Damn Hunger by Twisted_Mind (Allison/Stiles)

There’s no soft jazz, no flower petals or candles, because that’s not what this is.

-0-

MARVEL

Mightier Than The Sword by aloneintherain (Johnny/Peter)

Janey Storm freezes in the doorway.

Pen is half naked. Her boney, freckled shoulders and the faded sports bra she’s had since high school are on display. Bruises from this morning’s encounter with the Scorpion haven’t had time to heal yet—purples and sickly greens tesselate over her ribs and toned stomach.

Janey can see every unedited part of Pen: her open knuckles, blood a sharp red against her pale skin; her unbrushed hair, grown out past Pen’s jaw like a tangle of weeds; her loose jeans, slung low on her hips, with fraying ends and ripped knees. Janey stands there and sees Pen Parker, a half naked, wide-eyed girl choking on her heart.

“It’s occupied,” Pen manages.

Or: a universe where Johnny and Peter were born girls.

-0-

YOWAMUSHI PEDAL

One For The Road by Atropa Belladonna (WorldsJunk) (Onoda/Arakita)

Fuck her entire life on a cactus she’s a fucking loser. Not because Onoda’s boobs are bigger than her’s - ok, they’ve always been. Actually, everyone has bigger tits than she does, she is flat as hell and she likes it. Why the hell would she want a couple of Shinkai-style jugs waving around in the wind when she’s riding for fucks’s sakes, that’s impractical as all fuck. No, Arakita is a loser because now she can’t stop thinking about Onoda-chan’s tits and no way she is perving like this on an innocent girl that is all around too good for the likes of her.

#Naruto #Teen Wolf #Marvel #Yowamushi Pedal #Harry Potter #Game of Thrones #Naruto Fanfic Rec #Teen Wolf Fanfic Rec #Misc Fanfic Rec #Harry Potter Fanfic Rec #Marvel and DC Fanfic Rec #Femslash

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gabberwockywrites · 6 years ago

Photo

When Kairi returned, sitting on the Paopu tree, Sora wasn’t with her.

Everyone there at the Islands felt his loss; felt his absence as tears rolled down Kairi’s face. They decided to stay for a week or so as Kairi and Riku got over the reeling shock of having Sora, kind constant Sora ripped away from them.

So, then, they weren’t sure how to feel when Sora returned- sort of.

A version of Sora washed up on the beach of the Islands, fingers shaped into claws, eyes almost glowing red, and shrouded in the Darkness they never thought he’d fall to.

He crouched defensively if anyone approached until Kairi and Riku came running up the beach, shouting his name.

Not-Sora whirled, growling and running at the two.

“Riku! Kairi!” shouts of alarm rang out as Sora pounced, knocking Riku to the ground.

Riku blinked as the creature on top of him nuzzled his neck instead of attacking.

“Sora?”

Not-Sora purred at the sound of his name, curling up in Riku’s lap as the other boy sat up.

Kairi sat down next to them. “I think it is Sora.”

“What happened to her?”

“Anti-form.” Roxas cut in softly, almost in a trance.

Riku looked up quickly. “What?”

Shaking his head, Roxas replied, “I can wield pure light as a weapon. Sora does… almost the opposite. It’s not really wielding Darkness but when he gets desperate enough, Sora’s Darkness… wields him, in a way.”

“How do you know that?”

“I lived in that guy’s heart for the better part of a year. I know how much Darkness he hides.” He smiled, “I’ve also fought Anti-Form.”

Riku ran his fingers through Anti-Sora’s hair. “You’ve fought him like this? He seems harmless.”

“Only because it’s you. He was growling at the rest of us earlier.” Lea cut in.

Roxas nodded. “As far as I could tell, that’s Sora with most of his cognitive abilities stripped away. He doesn’t really recognize us.”

“So why does he recognize me?”

Kairi laughed. “Isn’t it obvious, Riku? It’s because you’re Sora’s Light.”

“I’m what?”

“His Light. Sora loves you.”

“I…” Riku flushed. “He loves a lot of people. He loves all of you.”

“Not the same way he loves you. And you love him.”

He spluttered, starting to defend himself, “I don’t-”

Kairi cut him off with a look and he pulled Anti-Sora a little closer.

“So how do we get our Sora back?”

Turns out, no one knew how to get Sora back.

It was okay though; Anti-Sora was content to lounge next to Riku on the beach. They hadn’t tried to get Sora back to the Main Island; there would be too much to explain and they weren’t sure how he’d react.

That just meant Riku couldn’t leave the Play Island either. He’d started moving both of them into the tree house; Kairi was bringing him clothes and food, but he needed a more permanent solution.

So he’d started building the treehouse out. Riku had honestly been planning on moving to the Play Island anyway. His parents hadn’t survive Destiny Islands’ fall to Darkness, the stress too much for them- they’d always been on the frail side.

Sora tended to sit in the shade while he worked; seemingly relaxed. He’d perk up when he heard a boat coming, reluctant to leave when Riku shooed him into the bushes.

It was Old Man Natsu who’d stepped onto the Island, with a generator and wiring in hand to rig up the new built out tree house.

Riku smiled as the man taught him wiring and how to start the generator- it was hydro-powered, so all Riku needed to do was make sure the rotor was in flowing water, which was easy enough on the Play Island.

An old fridge and stove were installed next, and the old treehouse was pretty much a home for Riku and Anti-Sora.

Their bed- there was only one, as Anti-Sora only slept if he was on Riku- was little more than a mattress on the floor. (Riku dragged it from the Gummi Ship hidden in the Secret Place.) But it was enough for them.

Almost enough.

Riku sighed, looking down at Anti-Sora curled up on his chest. It was almost like owning a very large cat. Which was nice, Riku loved cats.

But he really wanted his best friend back.

He ran a hand through Sora’s hair.

“Hey there,” he’d caught Sora’s attention, smiling. “I know I talk to you a lot like this, but can you even understand me like this?”

Sora tilted his head further into Riku’s hand, letting out a little “chirrup” noise.

Riku chuckled, “I… gods, I miss you, Sora.” He pressed his forehead to Sora’s, “I know you’re here but it’s not enough. I need you, I need your light.”

Again, Sora chirruped, pressing curious hands to Riku’s cheeks, which were wet with tears.

“Kairi said I’m your Light…” Riku urged, “So follow me home.”

Sora let go of his face, curling up again in Riku’s lap in response, still shrouded in Darkness.

“I don’t know how to help him,” Riku sighed, glancing at the gummiphone set up on the counter as he cooked. “He eats, but not really enough, and he still doesn’t talk.”

“Well, if it’s a problem with his cognition it makes sense that he’d be nonverbal,” Ienzo speculated, brows furrowing, “but the not eating is concerning. How have you gotten him to eat when he does?”

“Physically put it in his mouth.”

“That’s… odd.”

“It works.”

“For now,” Ienzo glanced at his computer. “I wonder if Sora isn’t eating because he doesn’t recognize food.”

Riku glanced at Sora, curled up around his shirt. “It’s very possible. There are days he doesn’t even recognize Kairi.”

“Who does he recognize most often, aside from you?”

“Ventus, surprisingly.”

Ienzo made another note. “Maybe then it’s hearts he’s recognizing. I think Ventus’s heart is the one he knew the longest, aside from yours.”

“So he’s what like… a Heartless?”

“No, not that. He can just sense hearts, so he stays by the ones he knows the best.”

Riku hummed. “That still doesn’t really tell us how to get him back.”

“I know. I wish I could help more but it’s hard when I can’t see him in person.”

“I can try to bring him to Radiant Garden, but I don’t know how he’ll react to the Gummi Ship. Or you.”

“If you can come, let me know. Oh, and you should probably tell the King. They couldn’t be there when Sora returned, I’m sure Donald and Goofy are worried.”

Riku nodded. “You’re right, thanks. I’ll let them know.”

“See you, Riku.”

“Have a good day, Ienzo.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, Sora was wrapped around his middle.

“Well, hello to you too.” Riku chuckled, accustomed to being randomly attacked by Sora. “Was I on the phone too long?”

Sora growled in response, arms tightening around Riku’s waist.

“You’re possessive today. Is everything ok?”

Sora grumbled.

“Bad day? Would you like something to eat?”

A mumbled noise behind him got Riku to turn around.

“Sora?”

His face was pinched, as if he was trying to think of something he couldn’t quite remember.

“…ku…Ri…ku…Riku! Riku, Riku!”

Riku grinned. “That’s right! I’m Riku!”

“Riku!”

“Come on, Sora, let’s eat.”

Sora grumbled again but followed Riku to the table.

There were two chairs at the table, but it seemed that Sora preferred to curl up as much as he could on Riku’s lap. It was almost as if the boy was touch starved and Riku realized with a jolt that he hardly hugged Sora anymore- keeping a distance unconsciously because he didn’t deserve Sora’s friendship, but couldn’t bring himself to actually leave.

He frowned, recognizing slowly that his fears and denials about his feelings were hurting his friend.

But he couldn’t say it. Not to this Sora.

“Hey, do you want to go on a trip today?”

Sora tilted his head.

“We can go see a friend who can help you.”

“Riku?”

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Riku smiled, popping a piece of chicken into Sora’s mouth. “Remember you need to eat.”

Sora chewed and looked up at Riku, and the two finished their lunch quickly in this way before walking around the Island.

“Do you remember the Secret Place?” Riku asked as they wandered vaguely in that direction.

Sora, ever the silent shadow, had no response for Riku, though he did recoil slightly at the entrance, torn between following Riku and memories of the Secret Place.

“Sora?”

Tentatively, Sora stepped into the Secret Place, following Riku.

“We’ll be out of here soon. We just need the ship.” He herded Sora onto the Gummi Ship, smiling as Sora curled up at his feet. “Ready?”

The trip to Radiant Garden was, surprisingly, uneventful.

Getting from the Gummi Ship to the castle, however, was not.

Riku hadn’t counted on Leon, Cloud, and Yuffie showing up as soon as the ship landed.

“Sora?” Leon called, looking around for the kid.

Riku chuckled nervously. “He’s—ah—not himself right now. You guys might want to step back.”

“What happened?”

“I was hoping Ienzo would be able to help. Roxas- Sora’s Nobody who grew a heart- called it ‘Anti-Form.’ It’s… well…”

Sora bounded out of the Gummi Ship into Riku’s back.

“Sora!” Riku stumbled before turning and catching him. “I could have fallen.”

Sora muttered an apologetic, “Riku…” as the other three gaped.

“Sora?” Cloud questioned, stepping forwards. “Are you ok?”

Almost immediately, Sora growled, shifting into a defensive stance.

Cloud stepped back, confused. “What…?”

“He doesn’t really recognize anyone.”

“What can we do?”

Riku shrugged. “I’m about to ask Ienzo. I’ll let you know when we find something.”

Leon nodded. “We’ll clear the streets for you and Sora. Try to make sure you see the fewest people possible.”

“Thank you,” Riku smiled as they left, Sora relaxing at his side. “I’m sorry, Sora. I didn’t realize this would be so stressful.

Sora grumbled, curling close.

“Come on. We just have to talk to Ienzo, then we can go home.”

So on they went, streets blessedly empty thanks to Leon, Cloud, and Yuffie.

Ienzo looked up when the two entered the lab, smiling. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Riku replied with a wave. He kept a hand on Sora’s, making sure he didn’t hurt himself on the equipment. “Here we are.”

“How is he?” Ienzo asked, nodding towards Sora.

“He’s still not eating on his own, but he can say my name.”

“Riku! Riku, Riku!”

“Yes, Sora,” he laughed, “I’m right here.”

“Riku…” Sora all but purred, unaware of Ienzo’s stare.

“Well, that’s good.”

And with that, they got started. It took several hours, and Sora has gone to curl up in the corner before Ienzo sat back with a sigh.

“It seems that I am not the one who can help him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He can’t find his way back. Not all the way. But I’m not the one who can lead him home.”

“Who is?”

Ienzo chuckled. “I’m sure you can find the answer, Riku. He’s around you most often.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is,” he smirked. “Go home and think about it, I think Sora’s getting tired.”

Sora perked up at the sound of his name, chirruping tiredly.

“Alright,” Riku conceded, “Thank you for trying.”

“Of course.”

Days passed back on Destiny Islands.

It was getting harder for Riku; harder to be near Sora while he wasn’t really Sora, harder to keep his feelings in. Harder to stop thinking of Sora as his.

“Sora, why can’t you come back to me? To us?” Riku ran his fingers through Sora’s hair. “What else do you need?”

Sora curled further towards Riku’s hand, fingers gripping his shirt. “Riku… Riku.”

“Me? What do you need me to do?”

“Riku…” Sora whined.

Riku shifted, pressing his forehead to Sora’s. “I’m right here. Come home to me. I—I need you. You’re my Light, Sora. I—” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I love you.”

A sharp gasp above him had Riku opening his eyes, watching as the shadows retreated from Sora’s face and, for the first time in months, he gazed into crystal blue eyes.

“Sora,” he gasped, pulling the boy to him. “You’re back.”

Sora smiled, pulling back slightly. “Did you mean it, Riku? You love me?”

“Yes,” Riku laughed, “Gods, yes, Sora, I think I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

Sora grinned, eyes welling with tears. “I love you too, Riku. I love you.”

Riku choked on a sob before pulling Sora into a kiss.

“Welcome home, Sora.”

#soriku #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #sora #riku #kairi #ienzo #roxas #lea #leon #cloud #yuffie #fanfiction #long post

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anubislover · 5 years ago

Text

Of Friendship, Captains, and Wedding Dresses

It was rare that Luffy asked to go shopping with his navigator. The hyperactive captain usually didn’t have the patience for following Nami around a peaceful town as she tried on clothes, instead complaining that he was hungry or bored and why couldn’t they go on an adventure? It was best to let him go off on his own whenever they reached an island with decent enough shops, as it saved her the headache and trouble that came with reigning him in.

This time, though, the rubber captain had practically begged to go with her, agreeing to carry all her bags and not mention meat once. Three hours in and he’d kept that promise, not even complaining that she was taking too long trying stuff on or haggling down the prices of navigation equipment. Once or twice, he even gave an opinion, even if it wasn’t much more than “the color’s nice” or “can you fight in that?”

To be honest, it had Nami worried.

“Why’d you want to come shopping with me, Luffy?” she asked as she handed him another bag stuffed with shoes. Sparkly sandals with three-inch heels had caught her eye, but she had intentionally taken her time deciding between the turquoise and the teal, testing if her captain would say anything. Throughout the grueling twenty minutes he’d sat patiently, not commenting that the difference between them really was miniscule.

Stretching his arms to make room for her latest purchase, he merely shrugged. “I just wanted to spend time with you. Is that ok?”

“I mean, of course, but wouldn’t you rather explore the island?”

“I can do that with Usopp and Chopper later. Robin says there are some cool beetles in the forest that are supposed to come out at night, so I’ll have a midnight adventure!”

A giggle escaped her lips. That sounded far more like the man she knew. Maybe she was overthinking things; they’d spent two years apart after Sabaody, and since the crew had reunited there hadn’t been much opportunity for leisure time or hanging out. Luffy often asked her to play games with him, but between the maps she had to draw, tending to her mikan trees and the New World’s dangerously unpredictable weather, she rarely accepted, knowing she had to be ready for a storm or other disaster at any time.

Even when danger wasn’t imminent, she wasn’t always around; Law had gotten into the habit of “running into them” quite regularly and spiriting her away to his ship to make the most of their “alliance.” Hell, part of the reason she was so anxious to go shopping was because he’d started ripping her clothes off in the heat of the moment, which usually meant she had to borrow his shirts and hoodies just to get back to the ship. The sight never failed to leave Sanji in tears, and even Luffy had started looking grim at how often she returned in the surgeon’s clothes.

Regardless, something was clearly up with her captain. Maybe Luffy just really wanted to spend some time with her, and he felt shopping was the only way since he could never manage to stay quiet long enough to join her in the library and she didn’t trust him with her precious mikan trees. Or maybe he felt bad over how often his reluctant friend ruined her clothes and wanted to make it up to her by acting as a pack mule. After all, she regularly repaired his hat when it got damaged. Mentally, she made note to play one of his silly games next time he asked. If he was making this much of an effort, she should too.

Strolling down the street, she glanced about, trying to decide where to go next. There was a bookstore, a patisserie, more shoe stores, and some dress boutiques she definitely wanted to check out, but maybe they could duck into the toy store for a little while and see if they could find a new beetle-catching net. Best to reward good behavior now so he wouldn’t get antsy and ruin the rest of her shopping plans.

“Hey, why don’t you try on those dresses?”

Glancing over to the shop window Luffy was pointing at, she did a double-take. A high-end boutique loomed before them, gorgeous white gowns featured prominently in the display window. Lace veils draped softly across the mannequins’ shoulders, and gem-studded tiaras and jewelry caught the early afternoon sunlight.

Jaw dropping, Nami stared at him. “You want me to try on wedding dresses?!”

The captain seemed bemused at her reaction. “Why not? You like fancy dresses, don’t you?”

“Yeah, except I’m not getting married, Luffy!”

“But you looked pretty in the one you wore on Thriller Bark.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t, but I wasn’t exactly happy with the idea of getting married then, what with the kidnapping, remember?” she cried, too flabbergasted to smack him over such a ridiculous idea.

Crossing his arms (which was no simple feat, given how they were covered in her bags) he cocked his head to the side. “So, you wouldn’t marry someone who kidnapped you?”

“Of course not!”

A look of relief crossed his face. “Good.”

Sighing, Nami rubbed her temples in exasperation. Perhaps she was overreacting. Luffy was generally clueless about girly stuff like weddings and romance, so maybe he didn’t realize how crazy his suggestion had been. All she had to do was distract him with something else, and he’d drop the topic entirely. There had to be a food stall or butcher shop nearby…

“But if you did get married, you’d have to leave the Sunny, right? I mean, husbands and wives usually live together, and if he were on another crew…” he trailed off.

An unusually serious expression had taken over her captain’s perpetually smiling face, and her frown deepened. “What’s all this about, Luffy? Are you worried about Big Mom coming after Sanji-kun again?” It certainly crossed her mind often enough. She didn’t blame the blonde cook for never telling them about his past, or his royal lineage, and even if he had, none of them could have predicted he’d nearly get married off because of it. “I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen; for better or for worse, she’s more likely to kill him on sight than make him marry any of her daughters.”

“But Sanji seemed to like Pudding. What if they do get married? When people get married to someone on another crew, they leave,” Luffy replied, chewing on his lip in thought. “I mean, Baby 5 left ‘Mingo to be with Sai. How am I supposed to become King of the Pirates without my nakama?”

A surge of sympathy welled up inside her. Had Luffy ever been to a normal wedding where no one was being forced or blackmailed? If not, it made sense that he’d be paranoid, given the horrible examples they’d dealt with.

“Luffy, from what Law-kun’s told me, Baby 5 was treated like crap by her crew, especially Doflamingo. He called her family, but really, he was just using her. Don Sai just gave her a way out, kind of like how you helped me break away from Arlong. People stay with the captains that make them happy.”

“Hmmm, I guess so.” Lifting his head, his expression remained pensive. “And if she’s already married, no one can take her away and make her join their crew, right?”

Nami had yet to meet Baby 5 personally, but from what Law and Robin had told her, some concern was warranted; after all, the woman had gotten engaged eight other times simply because a man had “needed” her, not because she loved them. Even though he despised Doflamingo with a burning passion, Law had admitted that his former captain murdering her various grooms had probably been for the best. Luckily, the respect and emotional stability Sai provided was doing wonders. Nami had heard from Bepo that when the Heart Pirates had crossed paths with the Happo Navy not long ago, Baby 5 had ignored Law’s request for a glass of water for a full twenty minutes.

Of course, she’d eventually caved and brought him a whole barrel of water, but progress was progress. Law was apparently so impressed he hadn’t even glared at her when she slapped him. Nami was just glad they both seemed to be healing from the mental and emotional scars Doflamingo had given them.

“Well, I can’t say she won’t get kidnapped, but you can be sure her husband will rescue her, and she won’t be joining any other crew,” Nami assured with a smile, hoping to finally put this rather strange conversation to bed. “Being a good husband is like being a good captain—if a man looks out for his wife’s needs, protects her, and cares for her, she’ll do the same, and he’ll never have to worry about her leaving him.” Of course, there was more to it that, but she really didn’t want to explain the more intimate stuff to him. She wasn’t even entirely sure he knew what sex was, and she had neither the energy nor patience to give him the Talk.

Her words seemed to make something click in Luffy’s mind, and the serious glint returned to his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, put down her bags, and sank to one knee.

“Nami, will you marry me?”

The navigator’s hands slapped over her mouth in utter shock. People started to cheer, a small crowd forming around them to offer congratulations. There was a flash, and Nami noticed a photographer out of the corner of her eye, probably hoping to cash in on the “happy couple’s” moment.

A thousand emotions surged through her, most of them varying shades of confusion, with a heaping helping of fury mixed in. What the hell was he doing? Marry Luffy? Was he delirious from hunger? Was this a prank? Would she be Monkey D. Nami? Where was the ring? If he became King of the Pirates, would that make her Pirate Queen? Did this entitle her to a bigger share of the treasure? How long had he been planning this?

What the hell would Law think?

Unfortunately, before she could give voice to any of the jumbled thought spinning about her mind, a completely different question came from the crowd.

“Wait, isn’t that Straw Hat Luffy?”

“The pirate?!”

“Holy crap, and that’s Cat Thief Nami!”

“Call the Marines!”

“Shit!” Nami cursed, and Luffy seemed to agree, grabbing her hand (and her bags) as they made a run for it, the gaggle of well-wishers swiftly turning into an angry mob.

Later, when she had calmed down and was safely back on the ship, she’d have a good laugh over it. Only someone like her captain could cause such mayhem with a simple marriage proposal.

That wouldn’t be for a while, though, as she was too busy freaking out while winding through the confused crowd until Luffy managed to pull them into an alley long enough for her to throw up her Mirage Tempo and render them invisible.

So much for a day of retail therapy, Nami groused, watching the mob stampede past, shouting that the Straw Hat pirates were in town. A couple of them poked their heads into the alley, but the illusion held true and the mob moved on, calling for someone to contact the marines.

The danger having passed, she dropped the illusion and smacked Luffy over the head with her Clima-Tact, at last free to focus her full wrath on her companion. “Monkey D. Luffy, you’ve got five seconds to explain why the hell you just proposed to me in front of everyone!” she whispered harshly, hands gripping his vest so hard she was pretty sure it would rip. “You didn’t even get me a ring! You should know I’d never say yes to anything that’s not at least 200 karats!”

“Shoot, I knew I forgot something!” he said, snapping his fingers.

“What you forgot is that I asked you a damn question! What the hell were you thinking?!”

The murderous look in her eyes told him she wasn’t in the mood for games, and he immediately panicked. “That if we get married, no one can make you join their crew!”

“Idiot!” she growled, slamming her fist down onto his head. “You think that’s reason enough for us to get married? You’re not even my type! You’re…” she trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Luffy was a lot of things to her, but a potential romantic partner was definitely not one. He was immature, reckless, a fool, and one of the most ridiculous men she’d ever met. He had no fashion sense, couldn’t be refined if his life depended on it, and had no appreciation for treasure or the finer things Nami coveted.

On the other hand, he was also loyal, caring, strong, fun-loving, always able to make her laugh, and perhaps one of her closest friends. The bond they shared was unspoken and unbreakable; one that had kept her at his side throughout his insane antics and dangerous adventures. She couldn’t say he wasn’t handsome, either, especially on the rare occasions when he cleaned up and wore a suit. And sometimes, when he was being particularly heroic, maybe her heart would flutter a little bit, but she was sure that was purely admiration that her silly friend was willing to put everything on the line for what he believed in.

Finally, she settled on, “You’re my captain.”

“So, you wouldn’t marry a captain? But you said being a good husband is like being a good captain…”

“Luffy, explain yourself right here and now or I’ll tell Sanji-kun to only make vegetarian meals for a month!”

“I’m just…do you want to join Law’s crew?”

“What?!” Shocking as the question was, Luffy not calling him Tora-o nearly short-circuited her brain. Even though she’d mostly dropped the silly nickname, the rubber man insisted on using it no matter how much it annoyed the doctor. Heck, it was probably the exact reason why he kept it up. It was pretty amusing to see how flustered and grumpy Law got over something so silly.

Using his proper name meant that Luffy wasn’t joking around.

He rubbed his arm nervously as he stared at the ground like a scolded puppy. “I know he’s smarter and more serious than me, and you’re always complaining about how I attract trouble, and his powers are a lot better at keeping you safe and are great for stealing treasure…”

Seeing her normally happy-go-lucky captain so pensive diminished some of her anger, and her fingers fell away from his shirt. “Luffy, there’s no way in hell that I’m leaving the Straw Hats, not even for Law-kun. And what’s any of that got to do with marrying you?”

“Well, Sanji’s been crying about how someday he’s gonna ask you to be his wife and steal you away from us. Whenever he shows up, you always make time for him, even though you always say you’re too busy to play with us. Then Usopp said Law told him he’s gonna marry you and you’ll have sixteen kids together and—”

“Usopp’s a damn liar and Sanji-kun’s completely overreacting! I’m sorry if I haven’t been spending as much time with you, but you’re being ridiculous!”

Earnest black eyes finally met hers. “But last time he came by, I heard you call him ‘Captain Law.’ You don’t call me ‘Captain Luffy.’”

Red bloomed across her cheeks. She only called her lover “Captain Law” when they were roleplaying; he’d be the enemy pirate threatening her crew unless she convinced him to spare their lives. Luffy must have overheard them last time Law’d cornered her in the cargo hold. She really hoped that was all he’d heard. Law loved dirty talk, and he got particularly graphic when she called him “Captain.” She’d nearly died of mortification when Robin had stumbled across them one time. If her dim-witted, loose-lipped captain had been eavesdropping…

Oblivious to her embarrassment, Luffy continued, “I mean, I get you two are together, but he’s always talked about stealing you away. It’s my job to protect you in every way I can.” There was a flash of fear in his eyes as his fists clenched. “Rayleigh said not every problem can be solved by beating people up, though. So, I thought if I married you first, no one could take you away, and I’d stay your captain. Sanji said we needed to do something fast before you got your heart stolen, otherwise you’ll be under his spell! I didn’t know Tora-o could use magic!”

I’m going to kill Sanji-kun, she thought viciously. Maybe Law, too. I told him we needed to be more discrete! Surprisingly, she wasn’t really that mad at Luffy anymore; she was almost impressed that he was trying to solve a problem with his head, not his fists. Plus, his reasons were so stupidly sincere it was almost like getting mad at a child. “Look, Law-kun and I might be in a relationship, but even if he asked me to join his crew, I’d stay with you; the Straw Hats are my nakama, remember?”

“But if we got married, he wouldn’t even ask. He’d know you’re a Straw Hat forever.”

“He does know it; I made that very clear to him when you two were constantly forcing me to wear your hats.” She owed Law an apology, though. He’d insisted Luffy was staking a claim on her, yet she’d brushed off his concern as petty jealousy. He was possessive and paranoid, but for once, it seemed justified.

Actually, no, she wasn’t going to apologize. If she admitted he had been right, he’d be insufferable for months and there was the high probability that he really would kidnap her.

Her reassurance wasn’t as effective as she’d like. “He’s not the only one who might take you away, though. Lots of guys want you, like Absolom and Sanji’s brothers, and Shiki tried to make you join his crew because you’re such a great navigator.” Ducking his head, the brim of his hat cast his eyes in shadow as he whispered, “I used to think I was strong enough to protect everyone, but I was wrong. I couldn’t stop Kuma from sending away my nakama. I couldn’t save Ace. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Her heart bled a little at his voice. She’d never seen him so insecure. He was always so happy-go-lucky, but this must have been eating at him for a while. Yes, Law was more serious and imposing and intelligent, whose crew was obedient and would never dream of talking back like the Straw Hats did to Luffy. When people looked at him, no one questioned whether or not he was the captain. He was a sharp dresser, devilishly handsome, quick-witted and exuded cool confidence. One could even argue he had cooler powers, and he could use a sword, and he was a doctor. To the untrained eye, Law was everything Luffy wasn’t.

She was suddenly reminded of something Luffy had said back at Arlong Park.

“I can’t use swords! I don’t know how to navigate a ship! And I can’t cook! Or lie! And I’m pretty sure I can’t live without being helped!”

At the time, those words had been a statement of defiance, proclaiming that he was ok with his weaknesses because he was strong enough to beat the Fishman, but a lot had happened since then. Was he scared of losing people because he knew he needed them? Or was he scared because those limitations might be what cost him the people he loved? If he’d been a little stronger, or a little faster, or had powers like Law’s, would they have been separated back in Sabaody? Would Ace still be alive?

Nami wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time. How dare he question her loyalty? How dare she not notice one of her closest companions had been hurting?

One thing was certain; she definitely had to make more time for this idiot if he thought she wanted to leave.

She settled for squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, promising, “Being someone’s wife would never affect my loyalties. I swore a long time ago I’d help make you Pirate King; after all you did to save me from Arlong, it’s the least I can do. So you don’t need to marry me, Luffy. Besides, you shouldn’t marry someone you aren’t in love with.”

“Robin says that plenty of people have gotten married without being in love to strengthen alliances,” he replied with a grimace. “It’s everywhere in her books. And Tora-o always insists we’re in an alliance…”

It was shit like this that made Nami all the more annoyed that Law refused to just admit he and Luffy were friends. “Well, that’s not for us. He’d be an absolute idiot to suggest it, because he knows you wouldn’t just hand me over like that. It’ll be a cold day in Hell when I let a couple of reckless, stubborn captains use me as a bargaining chip.”

Her stern declaration seemed to help him relax, though he still looked thoughtful. “You said you shouldn’t marry someone you don’t love, but you didn’t say you wouldn’t marry Tora-o.” Dark eyes stared at her curiously. “Do you love him?”

“Wha—I don’t know, Luffy!” she said, exasperated. “I mean, we only just accepted we’re in a relationship and not just sleeping together.” She really wasn’t sure what she felt for the dark doctor. In the beginning, it was just sex, but the more they ran into each other, the more she found herself enjoying his company even when he didn’t have her pinned to the nearest flat surface. Once she got past the creepiness, he was pleasant company; she enjoyed hearing about his adventures with his crew and even some of the medical procedures he’d done in the past, so long as he didn’t get into the gory details. Whenever she talked about weather patterns or natural phenomena, he never brushed off her explanations as “a mystery” and at least tried to pay attention. Lately, she especially liked how he’d quietly read in the library while she worked on maps with Bepo or kept her company while she picked her mikans, content to just be in her presence. She even found herself missing him at random times, wishing she could just hear his voice or see that cocky smirk.

Was that love? Did Law feel the same warm contentedness when she was around, the same ache when she was gone? Or was he less attached, simply pleased to have a gorgeous and intelligent bedmate to make his alliance with Luffy more tolerable?

She really didn’t like the way her chest tightened at that thought. This kind of introspection was way too heavy for what should have been a nice, relaxing shopping trip; it was much better suited for a late-night glass of wine with Robin. Given Luffy’s now-apparent fear that she’d leave him for Law, he was definitely not the right person to discuss her confused feelings with.

“Whether or not we’re in love, I don’t see marriage on the horizon anytime soon,” she assured, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They call it the old ‘ball and chain’ for a reason. Getting married to anyone would totally cramp my style! Wedding rings especially repel the dumb creeps in bars I like to steal from. So, quit worrying so much, ok?”

More astute than she gave him credit for, he didn’t buy her forced cheer. “It’s just—I don’t want you to leave, but I also don’t want you getting left.” For a moment, Nami swore she could hear Luffy’s teeth grind together. “Back in Fuchsia, a few people started calling Makino-chan terrible names. The mayor said it was because she loved someone who left her behind, and he didn’t marry her first. Ace offered to marry her so they’d stop, but she turned him down, so we beat them up instead.”

An understanding frown touched her lips. “Are people calling me names?” If they were, there would be hell to pay.

“I heard Tora-o call you a few of them.”

“When?”

“When I heard you call him ‘Captain.’”

Her blush returned tenfold as she screamed inside her head. “Ok, Luffy, Law-kun has permission to call me those names, but only when I call him ‘Captain.’ It’s…kind of a game we play.” She really had no interest in explaining the ins-and-outs of her and the Surgeon of Death’s dirty talk and roleplay to the rubber man. Hell, she’d been uncomfortable enough explaining it to Robin, and she knew for a fact the older woman was into way kinkier stuff. “But I absolutely understand why that upsets you, so if you ever hear it again, just stop listening and walk away. Preferably to the other side of the ship.” Mainly because Nami was certain, if the hard look in his eye was anything to go by, Luffy would beat the crap out of her lover if he didn’t. Which was sweet, she had to admit.

“It’s a game?”

Nodding emphatically, she replied, “Yes, it’s a special, secret game only he and I know about, and it can only be played with two people.”

Luffy actually rolled his eyes. “I know you’re having sex, Nami. I’m not stupid.”

He laughed as she buried her face in her hands, the beet red tips of her ears clashing horribly with her copper hair. “Shishishi! Rayleigh told me there are people who are into some pretty weird stuff, so I shouldn’t judge, but it’s ok to step in if I think someone’s getting hurt. If you’re ok with Tora-o saying that stuff, I promise not to punch him for it. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t being mean to you!”

“Thank you,” was her muffled response. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful that his mentor had taught him about sex or horrified. The old man was kind of a pervert, but at least she didn’t have to treat Luffy like a little kid. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she managed to meet his eyes. “I swear, I’m ok with it so long as it’s in private. If you ever hear him or anyone else call me stuff like that in public, though, bash their face in.”

“Can do!” he said enthusiastically, toothy grin once again splitting his face. Rubber arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest in a near-crushing hug. “I don’t want you to leave, but I promised Genzo I’d never break your heart. If you want to marry Law…”

Despite the blush lingering on her cheeks, a small, warm smile curved her lips. “I’ll tell you what, Luffy; traditionally, if a guy wants to marry someone, they have to ask her father for permission. Genzo’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a dad, but there’s no way Law would go all the way to the East Blue for that. So, as my captain, I’m letting you stand in for him.”

“So, if Law doesn’t get my permission, he can’t marry you?”

Normally, Nami was the sort of woman who would be annoyed at the idea that any man felt he could dictate her love life, but for Luffy, she’d make an exception. If it eased his fears and ensured she would never have to deal with this conversation again, she didn’t mind so much. It would probably be a moot point, anyway; Law didn’t seem the marrying type, and while she wasn’t against the idea, at the moment she was more interested in having adventures and fulfilling her dream.

Still, that didn’t quite dispel the image of her walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress with a handsome, tattooed doctor waiting for her.

A loud growl interrupted the moment, and Luffy pulled away, rubbing his head bashfully.

“I know I said I wouldn’t mention meat…”

“Well, things seem to have calmed down, so let’s get you some food,” Nami laughed, pulling him out of the alley. “I’ll even treat, just this once.”

“Really?!”

“Within reason, and only because it’s cheaper than a wedding banquet.”

It didn’t escape her notice that a certain straw hat was plopped onto her head by the time they reached the food vendor, nor did it escape Luffy’s that she kept it on the rest of the day.

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