#SEVEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY WHOLE WORDS LATER

[steelbvtterfly]

prompt: a cozy cafe decked out with garlands & that smell of spice while you wait for an old friend who is unusually late written for @lcfthaunted <3

Tick, tick, tick... Aeira's eyes followed the second hand of the clock on the wall as it passed the 12, indicating that she'd been there for a full hour. Well, she'd actually been there for closer to an hour and a half, so what the clock really told her was that the person she was supposed to be meeting there was an hour late.

Her eyes dropped to the windows in the front of the cafe and swept over to the front door. Still no sign of anyone out of the norm. The sky was still overcast, the snow still gently falling, the decorated interior of the cafe still making a picture perfect winter scene out of each window. She sighed and shifted in her chair, trying not to jump to the worst possible conclusions. Having not heard a peep put her on edge.

Aeira had cut ties with everyone when she was 17 - more years had come between them than she wanted to think about. After so long, Aeira wasn't sure how they'd even reconnected. When she'd seen the name on the return address, she'd dropped the rest of her mail, scattering it across the floor, and now... here she was, waiting to meet up with all but a complete stranger now - the opposite of what they had once been to each other.

Aeira ran a finger around the rim of her now-empty teacup and shifted her weight in the chair again. Her hand dropped to the table, index finger drumming lightly on the surface. Efforts to keep her mind away from the worst weren't working - it wasn't exactly a short drive. And sure, Aeira didn't have a cell phone, but she hadn't left her house that early. She would have been there for any call about an accident or a delay... at least, in theory.

She signed and pushed her chair back from the table. Standing, she picked up her cup and plate and carried them with her as she walked back to the counter. As if by some kind of magic, the owner - Maisy - appeared from the kitchen before Aeira had even set the dishes down.

"Would you like more? Something else?" Maisy asked, drying her hands with her apron.

Aeira smiled, sliding the dishes across the counter to her. "I'm okay, but thank you."

Maisy reached for the dishes, but as she did so, fixed her with that knowing look Aeira had grown uncomfortably familiar with. "...You okay?"

Aeira gestured as if to wave away the question. "I'm fine. Just waiting for someone. Maybe once she gets here we'll get something else, but..."

"If you're sure."

"I am. Thank you, though. And thanks for letting me just... hang around here." She checked her watch. "I don't know why she's so late..." She turned back towards the windows and the door, more or less wandering off - back to her table, the unfinished conversation forgotten.

Ten more minutes ticked by. Aeira looked down from watching the windows to find that fidgeting with a napkin had turned into a snowdrift of paper, shredded on the table before her. She sighed and pushed her chair back again, sweeping the pieces together with her hands as she started getting to her feet. A glance up from the mess pointed her to the nearest trash can to dispose of the scraps.

A blur in the window. A flash of red hair. The bells on the door jingled as it opened.

The blur of red hair solidified in the entrance, and Aeira forgot entirely about cleaning up after herself. The chair hit the floor with a thud. Aeira collided with the young woman standing by the door with almost as much force, but Lila had seen it coming, braced for impact.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be this late, but--" she began, but Aeira wasn't listening to the explanation. It didn't matter.

She didn't realize she was crying until she'd forced herself to give up the embrace, had stepped back to hold her sister at arms' length and study her face. "God, you're all grown up, when did that happen?"

"Well you've been gone for almost decade, what did you expect?"

Aeira laughed, one hand coming up to brush away her tears. "Okay, I deserve that," she said, a genuine smile remaining on her face. "Now come over here and tell me everything I missed."

[yeonzzzn]

🕯️let it go: niki

a vampires bleeding series: six / seven

pairing: niki x afab!reader word count: 8.2k

synopsis: with the surrounding area of dorian's location being exposed, the seven boys continue to search where the missing pack members are while niki continues his normal school life, befriending you. the closer you and niki get, the more secrets that get revealed.

genre: friends to lovers/enemies, vampire!niki, vampire!reader, angst, some fluff.

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, betrayal, cutie pie niki ♡

☾ jungwon(1) | jay(2) | jake(3) | sunghoon(4) | sunoo(5) | niki(6) | heeseung(7) ☽

Niki knelt down, his fingertips brushing against the grass. The wind blew his blonde hair across his face, his eyes narrowing down at the open water below him. Searching for any clue. 

Jake suddenly appeared beside him, his arm resting on Niki’s shoulder. 

“Find anything yet?” His Aussie accent rushed out. 

Niki nodded, “Yeah, a whole lot of nothing still.” 

Jake sighed, “Keep searching, the entrance has to be here somewhere.” 

Niki stared at his hyung, seeing the desperation on his face to find his mate. 

“I need to find her…” Jake whispered. 

Niki rubbed Jake’s back, “I know hyung, I know.” 

Niki understood how Jake was feeling, obviously not to the same degree, but still understood. 

That hole of having __ and __ being gone hit all of them. The only difference is Niki and the others don’t feel the pain that Jake and Sunghoon feel. There’s a pinch of something, but it doesn’t affect anything else. 

The worst part of all this was Niki couldn’t help but feel disconnected from everything that was happening. 

He wanted to get the girls back just as much as everyone else, but he also felt like this was major bullshit. 

Maybe it was because Niki didn’t believe in soulmates. 

Not like there were a lot of seventeen-year-old forever vampires anyway. 

A girl is the whole reason Niki ended up as this undead being in the first place. 

It was the day before Niki’s birthday. Snow was falling from the sky, it was the perfect day to confess his feelings. It was his first-ever crush. Walked her home from school that day and was attacked in broad daylight. 

Niki survived, she didn’t. 

The vampire venom spread through Niki’s body way too quickly, turning him into a monster. 

The first thirty years were hell. Niki couldn’t control his blood thirst and killed multiple people in the process. 

It wasn’t until another thirty years before Heeseung and Jay found him. He was on the hunt for human blood, the previous human blood stained on his clothes, face, and down his neck. Niki ran into the two of them on his way into the town. 

Heeseung could feel the bloodlust and Niki felt like he was in danger. The only vampires Niki ever encountered were the ones that almost killed him, and the ones he’s had to fight just to get a bite in. Heeseung could sense Niki was terrified, mostly because of how he looked. 

Vampires usually don’t like being exposed, and Niki was terrified his time was up. Heeseung and Jay would kill him, tear him to pieces, and burn his body.  

“It’s okay…” Heeseung whispered, “I can see what you’re thinking, it’s all over your face.” 

Niki backed away, holding a hand up, “Nah, don’t you fucking come near me.” 

And man did it take Heeseung and Jay a lot of time to talk Niki into calming down. Eventually, they adopted him into their pack. 

Niki remembers walking into the safe house for the first time, seeing four other faces stare at him, but welcoming him nonetheless. 

It was the first time Niki felt at home since he was turned. 

And hundreds of years later here he is. Fighting to protect an even bigger family. Even if he doesn’t believe in a lot that’s going on. 

Again, there aren’t many other vampires stuck in their teens anyway. The possibility of Niki even finding a soulmate (if they even exist), is very slim. 

“We need to go,” Jake sighed and snapped Niki out of the past memories.

Niki nodded, standing tall beside his hyung. 

Jake was holding back his emotions, Niki could feel it. That bond tugged hard. 

“Hyung, we will get __ back.” Niki reassured him, “Once we find where his entrance is and when __ can produce a stronger masking of our scent with her elf magic, the easier it’ll be to get in.” 

Jake nodded, rolling his eyes, “Aren’t I the one that should be comforting you? I’m the older one.” Jake chuckled, draping his arm around the younger’s neck, “Come on, let’s go.” 

—

Niki spun the soccer ball on his fingertips, tossing it up to the ceiling, spinning, tossing it again, and spinning. 

He was sprawled out on the couch, mind in a faraway place. 

The front door opened, and the sound of bags dropping to the floor and shoes being kicked off echoed in the apartment. 

Niki leaned his head over the armrest of the couch, “Welcome home hyung.” 

Heeseung glances down at the maknae, “Don’t you have your own home?” 

Niki sat up, spinning the soccer ball in his hands, “I mean, yeah.” 

Heeseung sat at the kitchen table, sliding out of his doctor's coat, “Don’t you have school tomorrow? I’ll have Sunoo come pick you up.” 

“Hyung no!” Niki pouted. 

Heeseung raised a brow, noticing a duffle bag sitting in the corner by the couch. 

“Niki..” 

“Heeseung, they annoy me.” 

Heeseung let out a small chuckle, “Yeah?” 

“It was fine when it was just me and Sunoo, but after __ moved in…” 

Heeseung sighed, he knew why Niki wanted to be here. Heeseung knew of Niki’s history and how it all took place, being around a cute cuddly couple probably isn’t his favorite thing in the world right now. 

There’s enough on his plate with unfortunately attending high school again, dealing with the major loss the pack has taken, on top of his roommate's mate moving in. The kid has a lot going on. 

“Plus, you’re here alone, so I am here to keep you company.” Niki smiled, trying to win his hyung over by acting cute. 

Heeseung wasn’t buying it. 

“Hyung, you’re my legal guardian anyways. This would just make it easier.” 

Heeseung knew Niki had a point. The only problem Heeseung worried about was Niki being alone. 

Heeseung always had to be at the hospital, and when he wasn’t, he was searching with the others to find the entrance to where Dorian was hiding. Niki didn’t always attend the search parties, so if he wasn’t at soccer practice, he would be at home by himself. 

Niki continued to pout until Heeseung gave in. 

“Fine, but nothing changes, you’re still attending school.” 

Niki didn’t like the school idea but was happy to stay with Heeseung either way. 

—

Niki dropped his head into his palm, staring off out the window. 

His classmates all talked amongst themselves about the latest trends and the soccer games coming up. 

Niki tuned out the noise, ready to just get the hell out of here. 

Niki knew his classmates gossiped about him, about how he always kept to himself unless spoken to. how he is really good at soccer and thinks he’s “the king” or something. They even make fun of his brothers, and that’s one thing Niki has to bite his tongue on. 

Niki didn’t see the point in trying to make friends at these schools. Niki will continue living an immortal life and losing friends along the way, so it’s best to not make any. 

Get in and get out as Jay would put it. 

There wasn’t any point to any of it no matter what, he’d just change schools again once he graduated or if his family moved again. 

“Okay class, settle down!” The homeroom teacher yells, the room of teenagers quieting down. “We have a new student joining us today.” 

Niki slightly glanced over to the entrance to the classroom, curious to see the new student just as much as the next person. 

Niki slowly lifted his head from his palm, lips parted and eyes slightly widened. 

You stood at the front of the class, glancing around at your new peers, eyes connecting with Niki’s. 

You were a vampire. Niki couldn’t believe it. Another vampire that was his age and just so happened to be in the same class as him? 

What are the odds? 

You introduced yourself to the class and then waited for the teacher to assign you to an open seat. 

You kept eye contact with the blonde vampire in the back of the class as you walked to your seat. 

Your new classmates already seemed to take notice, their whispers being “Do they know each other?”, “she’s the first girl that has gotten Nishimura’s attention”, “They have to know each other, there is no way.” 

You finally broke eye contact once you sat in your seat, looking amongst the teenagers around you, wondering how mortals can care so much about things that shouldn’t matter. 

Niki looked back out the window, once again dropping his head into his palm. 

Niki could feel your gaze on him throughout the school day. He couldn’t help but wonder if you too have struggled to find other vampires the same age. 

During lunch, Niki made it a mission to find you. 

You sat on the floor in between two bookcases in the library, eyes closed and earbuds blasting music into your eardrums.

A slight tap came to your shoulder, you opened your eyes and looked up, seeing Niki standing beside you. 

You pulled your earbuds out, raising an eyebrow at him, “Yes?” 

“Uhh…” Niki didn’t think this far. He pushed his hair back, looking at the other bookshelf in front of you, “Mind if I sit?” Damn, he was so cheesy. 

You nodded, “Go ahead fellow blood drinker,” you teased, a smile formed on his face as he sat across from you. 

Niki tried to read you, thinking if he stared at you long and hard enough he could figure out every answer to his question without actually having to ask. 

You looked him up and down, “Nishimura, if you have something to say just say it, I’m not going to bite.” 

Niki glared at you, “That’s the best vampire joke you could come up with?” 

You shrugged, “I saw the chance and I took it.” 

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. 

“Sorry,” was all he could say, “I have never met another vampire that was well…”

“Stuck in a seventeen-year-old's body for eternity?” 

Niki nodded, “Yeah…exactly.” He was in awe at how you understood. 

“Makes it harder for us to find mates, that’s for sure.” 

And you lost him. 

Niki slumped back against the bookcase, gently laughing.

You didn’t understand what was so funny, “What are you laughing about?” 

Niki shrugged, leaning his head against the bookcase, making eye contact with you, “I don’t believe in soulmates.” 

You furrow your brows, “You don’t?”

“Nope.” He looked away, reading the titles of the books.

“Do you not believe as a whole, or just don’t believe in a soulmate for yourself?” 

Niki lifted his head, seeing how serious you were about that question. 

He didn’t know how to answer it. All he could do was stare at you. 

“You’re in a pack,” you said, “And those in your pack have soulmates, that’s why you can answer my question.” 

It wasn’t hard to tell that Niki was in a pack. Pack hunters have a totally different energy. 

Niki decided to dodge the question, slowly leaning back against the bookcase, “What about you? In a pack? You kinda give off that solo vibe.” 

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, deciding how to answer the question, “I am indeed solo. Just do my own thing.”

“I was solo once, and it wasn’t fun.” It surprised Niki how easily he was able to talk to you to even bring up his old past.

You smiled at the embarrassment on his face, he was too cute. 

“Anyways, I am Nishimura Riki, but I go by Niki.” he held out his hand, “We didn’t properly introduce each other yet.” 

You stare down at his hand, then back up at his face, “What time period are you from, Niki? A handshake?” 

Niki rests his hand down, softly scoffing, “I’m two hundred and ten.”

You snorted a small laugh, “Damn you’re old.” 

Niki smiled, clicking his tongue, “Yeah? and you?” 

“I’m only a hundred and fifteen.” you gave him a silly smile. 

“Wow, a whole ninety-five years younger than me.” 

You both laughed, “Unfortunately we are still seventeen.”  you said. 

Niki nodded, “Yeah, well this is the first time I have been okay with being stuck at seventeen.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Staring into his eyes. 

Niki quickly shot up, startling you. 

“Well, lunch is almost over, head back to class?”

Before you could answer, your phone buzzed in your skirt pocket, “Uhh I am actually going to skip the rest of the day, I have some moving things to do.” 

Niki clicked his tongue, “Damn girl first day and you’re already skipping the rest of the day?” 

You shook his head at him teasing you, “Shut up and get back to class Nishimura.” 

Niki smiled wide as he walked away.

“Oh! Niki!” 

He stopped and turned to face you, waiting for you.

“I am Y/N,” you softly waved a hand at your side, “I didn’t tell you my name earlier.” 

“Well, Y/N,” Niki said, “I’ll see you around then.” 

He disappeared, only to poke his head back around the bookcase.

“Actually, want to hang out? Like after my soccer practice today? Or even tomorrow? Or whenever you prefer.”

You nodded, “Yeah I would actually love to hang out. It would be nice to make some friends. But I can’t tonight, so tomorrow?”

Niki nodded in agreement, “Tomorrow then.” 

And he officially disappeared this time. 

You pulled your phone from your pocket and read the messages. 

dni: have time for a chat? you: oops can’t sorry! school work…bummer.  dni: Y/N you: ? dni: now

you sigh, dropping your phone in your lap. 

—

Heeseung stood by the table, Sunoo and __ were at his left, Jake and Sunghoon on the right. 

A notepad with directions and any hints to lead to Dorian was written on it along with a map of the surrounding area. 

Heeseung covered his mouth with his hands, staring down at the map. 

“What about here?” Sunghoon asked, pointing at a specific point on the map. 

“No, Niki and I already checked there,” Jake answered. 

Heeseung’s eyes searched every inch of the map, trying to piece together where to find Dorian. 

Sunoo groaned, “We’ve been doing circles. There’s nothing but open water. We’ve gone diving multiple times as well to see if it’s under but it’s clearly not.” 

Sunoo’s mate sighs as well, rubbing his back, “I wish I could help find a more specific area…”

“No, __ it’s okay,” Jake said, “You’ve already done so much to help.” 

Sunghoon dropped his face in his hands, frustration isn’t even close to describing how he was feeling. 

“Where are the others right now?” Sunghoon asked. 

Heeseung sighed, “Jungwon and Jay are searching the area right now. The girls are at Jay’s apartment and Niki…I don’t know.” 

“I am right here,” Niki says, overhearing as he was walking inside the apartment, “What’s going on?” 

“Just still trying to find where Dorian could be hiding.” __ said. 

Niki walked to the table, his eyes scanning the map, shaking his head, “I feel like we’ve looked everywhere.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement. 

Niki slumped down into a chair, his brain wracking the memories of running through the area, trying to pinpoint anything. But nothing ever came up. 

“Let’s call it a night,” Heeseung finally said, “We’ll change searching shifts for tomorrow and just keep looking.” 

“It’s unfortunately all we can do…” Sunoo softly whispered, looking over at his hyungs, seeing their heads hung low, just wanting their mates back. 

Sunghoon pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, staring down at the lockscreen photo of himself and his witch mate. He silently begged for any hint so he could find you. 

There was a small tapping sound just then. Everyone’s heads perked up, their ears on high alert. Eyes quickly roaming. 

The apartment fell silent and the six of them listened as the tapping continued. 

Niki slowly turned his head towards the window, his brows furrowing at what he was looking at, “A raven?” 

Everyone turned to look at the window, a large raven sat at the windowsill, with a paper rolled and tied to its neck with a red string. 

Sunghoon quickly shot up from the chair, “It’s from __.”

Sunghoon rushed to the window, opening it and letting the raven hop inside. 

The raven stood still while Sunghoon untied the paper from its neck and once it was free, it flew back out the window. 

Sunghoon watched as the raven flew away, his heart breaking. 

“What’s in the note, hoon?” Jake asked, appearing beside his best friend. 

Niki followed behind, hovering over his hyungs shoulders. 

Sunghoon unrolled the paper, a smile forming on his face. 

“It’s coordinates.”

“What?” Heeseung rushed over, taking the paper from Sunghoon’s hands, and reading the coordinates written.

Everyone rushed back to the map. 

Heeseung grabbed a marker, lining up where the coordinates led, and landed in the middle of the forest. 

“We found it,” Heeseung whispered. 

Jake fell to the floor, face covered by his hands, “We finally fucking did it.” 

Sunghoon grabbed his chest, clinging to his white tee shirt, “My hex girl risked sending a raven…god, I love her…” 

“Sunoo, call Jay and Jungwon, and let them know what we found.” Heeseung asked, Sunoo immediately jumped from the table and dialed one of their numbers, “And __, can you use the paper that __ wrote on to find exactly where the coordinates lead? To get a picture of what we are looking for.” 

The elf took the paper in her hands, rubbing her thumbs over the ink written on it, and nodded, “I can, but it might not be enough, I might get only a small enough vision, nothing we haven’t already gotten.”

Heeseung gripped the marker in his hands, feeling like their two steps forward were also a step back. 

“What if we also used this?” Sunghoon lifted a black feather up into the air, “Something told me to take a feather from the raven…that it would somehow help. Since it’s __’s raven, and the bird clearly had to have been in that area for her to call it and then send it to find me.” 

Sunoo’s mate rushed to Sunghoon, taking the weather and feeling it with her hands, she smiled wide, “This is plenty, it has __’s magic all over it. It will work.” 

Sunoo returned, “Jay and Jungwon are on the way here. I told them everything.” 

Heeseung nodded, “__, start the process of the searching magic, so once the other two show up we can fully start.”

Niki felt a rush of adrenaline, they had waited for so long to find Dorian and put him down. They still didn’t fully know what he was planning, or why he wanted the pack dead, but Niki couldn’t help but finally feel relieved that it would be over soon. 

Heeseung noticed a difference in Niki, that he was more upbeat and not as quiet as normal. 

“What’s with you?” Heeseung asked, causing Niki to stutter in his seat.

“Huh?” 

Heeseung studied the maknae’s eyes, “You met someone.” 

The others' attention looked at Niki, his face turning a soft shade of pink.

“I met another vampire today…she’s my age.” 

Sunghoon let out a whistle, “Well look at that.” 

Niki shook his head, “It’s not like that, she’s super cool.”

Heeseung could already tell what it was from Niki’s reactions, but he knew the maknae had to discover everything himself. 

The topic dropped once Jungwon and Jay showed up, their mates following right behind them. 

“Get us updated,” Jungwon said, leaning his body against the table, “Have we started the searching process?” 

“Not yet, we waited for you,” Sunoo answered. 

Jungwon nodded, “Let’s get started. Once we have a clear vision of where this place is at, we will scope it out tomorrow and then will make an infiltration plan and get that son of a bitch the following day.” 

Everyone was in agreement, and the hunt for Dorian officially started. 

—

You stood in the alleyway, blood dripping from your fangs as you licked your lips, wiping the remaining blood from your face on the back of your hand. 

You looked down at the sacrifice of your meal, feeling the small inch of pain of what you’ve just done, but had to do. You needed to eat to survive, after all. 

You tilted your head to the side, “It’s about time you showed up.” 

Dorian walked from behind you, looking down at the body on the ground, “Awe, you didn’t leave any for me?”

You rolled your eyes, “Again, you kept me waiting. Wasn’t going to continue playing with my food until you showed up.” 

“Watch your mouth, Y/N.” Dorian stepped over the body, leaning against the wall, his eyes shooting daggers into you, “get me updated.” 

You sigh, standing in front of him, “Nothing has changed. They still have no idea where to find you.”

Dorian clicked his tongue, “Not yet. Our pretty little witch prisoner sent out a raven earlier. That’s what I was dealing with and why I was late.” 

You crossed your arms, not caring about this war Dorian started with himself and one of the most powerful vampire packs. 

“Why go this far? I thought you said the falling out between you and them was ancient history.” 

“Oh it is, but that doesn’t mean I am over it.” Dorian walked closer to you, “I need their power, their mates. The moment I kill their mates in front of them and then kill them and take in every ounce of power they have…I will be unstoppable.”

You looked away from him, “All this just to be the Vampire King.”

“Exactly!” He said, taking your jaw between his fingers and forcing you to look at him, “That’s why you’re going to lure them in with their little one.” 

You shoved him off you, “I told you I don’t give a shit, fight this on your own.” 

Dorian was quick on his feet as he was now standing behind you and a knife was pressed to your cheek, “Did you forget your place? Hmm?”

You took a deep breath in, letting a soft “no,” leave your lips. 

“Good.” Dorian released the knife and his grip on you, “Win the youngest one over, I don’t care how you do it as long as you don’t mate with him.” 

You shook your head, “It won’t happen, he doesn’t believe in soulmates.” 

Laughter erupted from Dorian, “What a shame.”

You couldn’t get Niki’s soft smile out of your mind, how much hurt that was held in that smile from his past trauma, but also the happiness he held in it as well because of the ones who saved him. 

It felt wrong to hand over Niki and his pack to Dorian. You already knew he was going to use the mates as his wild card to bend them to his will. 

But you knew you also couldn’t defy Dorian. 

Dorian starts to walk away from you, his voice echoing down the alley, “Do your job and lure the youngest in. Their power will be mine.”

—

Niki nervously tapped his foot against the floor, his eyes darting to the clock every five minutes. 

The school day couldn’t go any slower. 

His heart raced every time he would catch you staring at him. The way you would smile at him and push your hair behind your ears. It was driving him insane. 

The school bell rang, and Niki was the first out of the classroom, you followed right behind him. 

“So blondie, what is the plan for today?” You asked, keeping up with his pace. 

“I have soccer practice first, so I figured we could hang out once I’m finished?” 

You nodded, “I’ll even watch the practice.” 

Hearing those words was enough to pull at Niki’s heartstrings, quickly shook his head and shoved that feeling down. 

Niki also noticed how everyone was staring at the two of them. You also noticed. 

The whispers filled his ears. One by one making comments on how he finally wasn’t a loner, that they wondered how much he paid you to hang around them. Pointless bullshit after another.

“Niki,” your voice tuning him back to reality, pushing the whispers away, “Just ignore them, they aren’t worth the time.” 

He knew you were right. Niki smirked to himself, remembering they are just mortals wasting their lives with pointless bullshit. They had a short time. Niki had eternity. 

You sat in the bleachers, watching as Niki and his teammates did their stretches and warmups. 

There was another crowd of girls gushing over how cute all the boys were. Niki’s name came up, catching your attention. 

“Nishimura is so cute in his practice uniform~” one giggled. 

“I know! Gosh, I wish I was brave enough to ask him out, think he would say yes if I did?” 

You groaned in disgust, feeling a small hint of jealousy. The girls were pretty, and you couldn’t help but think how nice they would look standing next to Niki. 

His arm wrapped around them, his bite mark sitting beautifully on her neck. 

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts but still passed a glare at the girls. 

Little did you know Niki watched the whole interaction. 

He smiled warmly at seeing you getting worked up over some mortal girls. 

The coach called the players over, telling them a neighboring school came for a practice match. 

Niki couldn’t focus. His brain was in a million different places. Mostly back with you. How you’re sitting in the bleachers watching him and how bad he was sucking right now. 

The other team was winning. Niki couldn’t stay focused long enough. His teammates were even giving him hell for not being on his “a game”. 

You could sense he wasn’t feeling okay. Your heart pulled to him and you wanted to run across the field and give him the biggest hug. 

But you knew you couldn’t. So you settled for the next best thing. 

“NIKI!!!!”

Niki turned to you when hearing his name fall from your lips. 

All it took was making eye contact with you, for that little stupid string of fate to wrap around you both from across this field. 

Niki stood in place just looking at you and how big your smile was. 

You felt it too. The pull of that knot of fate. 

Before the knot could fully be tied, Niki’s coach called to him, gaining his attention back. 

You let out a breath, slowly sitting back down in the bleachers. 

You stared down at your black Converse, and a thought crossed your brain.

“Dorian will kill me too.” 

—

You and Niki walked side by side, the cool night breeze blowing your hair into your face. 

Niki took the opportunity to pull your hair behind your ears, slowly rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks. 

You tried to not look at him, wanting to push whatever fate had in store for you away. You couldn’t do this. It would get you both killed. 

Niki noticed your difference in mood. You wouldn’t look at him. Talk to him. Barely agreed to walk with him. 

“Y/N.” he called for you, “Look at me, please.” 

“I can’t…Niki.” 

Niki sighed and looked off into the distance, “Is it because I told you I don’t believe in soulmates?” 

You start to say something, to tell him the full truth. But you stopped.

Niki looked back at your face, watching you struggle to look anywhere but him hurt. He wanted your eyes on him, and only one way popped into his mind. 

Niki quickly leaned down, placing his lips gently on yours. 

You backed away quickly, making eye contact with him, “What the fuck, Niki?!” 

Niki smirked at your reaction, getting what he wanted, “It got you to look at me.” 

You groaned, throwing daggers at him with your eyes, “So you think kissing me was the way to go!?”

Niki just kept smiling at you, “I think I am ready to believe in soulmates.”

You relaxed your body, looking at him with such care, “What?”

He nodded, “I am ready to believe in soulmates.” he walked back to you, closing the gap. One hand rests on your waist while the other holds your face, “It took meeting you for me to realize it. I thought long and hard after you asked me if I didn’t believe in soulmates for myself, and you were right. The night I was turned, I was going to confess to the first girl I ever loved. But I watched her get murdered in front of me, thinking I was next but well..here we are. I stopped believing in love and the only love I accepted was from my pack. But one by one I watched as they each found a mate. Maybe I was just jealous because I am two hundred and ten stuck in a seventeen-year-old body for eternity and there aren’t many others stuck in the same situation.”

You tried to hold back the tears after hearing Niki’s past story and what he went through. 

“So finding a soulmate felt useless to me, that was until you walked into the classroom yesterday…Y/N, I know you felt that knot too. That pull of those stupid ass strings of fate…”

You slowly nodded, forcing yourself right now to not give in to it. 

Niki brushed your hair out of your face and wiped the small tear that came from your eye, “be my mate, Y/N. We have eternity to figure everything else out.” 

The pull was stronger and harder to fight. 

You wanted to be with him. Wanted to show him love and care. To spend that eternity to figure life out with him. 

Niki leaned his forehead against yours, “I already stopped fighting it…let it go.” 

You closed your eyes, stood on your tiptoes, and connected your lips to his. The string of fate sealing its knot. 

Niki smiled into the kiss before giggling and breaking the kiss. 

You looked up at your soulmate, his cute face bringing every ounce of joy into your own soul. 

Niki’s phone started vibrating in his pocket. 

He quickly glanced down, seeing a spam of messages from Heeseung. 

heeseung: We found it. Sunoo and Jay just returned. Come home ASAP!! Like right now. 

“Everything okay?” You asked, quickly glancing down at Niki’s phone, seeing the messages. 

“Yeah, I just have to go home, my brothers are looking for me.” 

Niki planted a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

And then he vanished. 

Dread filled you. They did it. They found where Dorian was hiding, where YOU were hiding. 

“Didn’t I tell you to not mate with the young one?” 

Your heart stopped, panic settling in. 

“No no, Y/N. Better calm down before he senses something is wrong.” 

You knew he was right. and The last thing you needed was Niki to find out everything. 

Dorian appeared in front of you, the biggest smirk on his face. 

“This is a very big turn of events, who knew this whole time you were falling for the younger one? Hmm?”

Dorian’s words angered you, “You’re the one that’s had me stalking them for who knows how long now! This is your fault!” 

“Oh no, sweet Y/N,” he softly snapped, pinching your face, “This is fate's fault. I had no control over it. Don’t you know you don’t pick your soulmates? Fate does.” 

You shoved him away, trying to keep yourself as calm as possible so Niki doesn’t sense anything. Or even worse, his whole pack sensing something wrong. 

“Now what to do, what to do.” Dorian circled around you. 

“I won’t do it. Whatever it is, I won’t do it.” 

Dorian stopped walking, “Excuse me?” 

You took a step back, but Dorian was way too quick. 

His hand met your throat, and your back to the pavement. 

“You really needed to be reminded, huh little one? Did you forget who created you?!? I DID!” Dorian’s voice growled. The memory of the night he nearly killed you but decided at the last minute that you’d be a perfect puzzle piece to his game.

You gripped both hands around his wrist, trying with all your strength to push him off you. But nothing worked. 

“Hahahahaaaa! See, Y/N? The power that I have obtained just from that dhampir and witch alone. Imagine the power I’d behold once that damn pack is gone!”

Your eyes widened, shaking your head, “No please.” 

“It’s too late, your little mate will be killed with the rest of them. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep you alive until the world ends to suffer for the pain you just caused.”

Tears swelled your eyes. You just got your soulmate, and you’ll soon lose him too. 

“Now that I also know they have found where we live, I think it's time to lure them in, ya?” Dorian balled up his other fist, “You’ll go find your mate, show them what I have done to you, and lead them to our home. That damn elf of theirs has masked their scents, but since you’re connected to them.”

You blacked out after that sentence. Doing everything you could to hide the pain so Niki wouldn’t come running. 

—

Everyone ran around Heeseung’s apartment gathering all the supplies and weapons needed. 

Niki helped Sunghoon and Jake pile the supplies into backpacks. 

“It’s almost time,” Jungwon announced, “The earlier we hit his compound, the better.” 

Niki wondered if you could feel the stress he was feeling. The pain of being away from you. He wondered if his brothers had noticed. 

He wanted to tell them. To at least let them know. 

He shoved a few blood bags into the backpack, his brain on the fence about what to do. 

“Hey,” Heeseung tapped his shoulder, “Everything okay?” 

Before Niki could answer, he sensed you. 

Niki dropped the backpack and ran to the front door, swinging it open. 

You looked up at your soulmate and watched how his face shattered at how you looked. 

Niki pulled you inside, slamming the door behind you. 

He embraced you in his arms and all you could do was cry. Not just because of how badly you were physically in pain, but because of the fate that awaited you both. 

“Hey hey, Y/N, what happened?!” Niki tried to calm you down, running his hands through your hair. 

Jay and Heeseung were at Niki’s side in a second, removing you from his arms. 

“STOP!” Niki yelled, using all his strength to get his brothers away from you. 

They took a step back and they watched Niki drop to the floor with you back in his arms. 

And that’s when the others felt it. 

Heeseung sighed, “This is Niki’s mate.” 

Niki was able to calm you down and sat you on the couch while he knelt in front of you. 

This was the first time you’d been up and close with the rest of his pack. 

Now that you were connected to them, you could feel just how powerful these vampires were. 

Heeseung knew something felt off. If Niki and you were bonded together, why didn’t the rest know? Heeseung remembers feeling the exact moment when each member connected with their mates. Why was Niki’s story so different? 

Niki brushed your hair away from your face, his heart broke at seeing how you looked, how bruised and cut up you were. 

“Who did this to you?” Niki whispered, fighting back his own tears. 

You did as Dorian told you, “It was Dorian.” 

The room fell even more silent, and all eyes were on you.  

“He was stalking Niki and me tonight. He told me as he attacked me that he wanted Niki. He wanted the rest of your mates. I don’t know why or what for, I was just so confused. He let me go and I only felt safe finding Niki.” 

Heeseung clocked your story. Putting it to the side for now. 

Jay examined you, making sure your healing function was working and the elf mate offered to help speed up the process. 

Heeseung pulled Niki to the side, “When did this happen?” 

Niki raised a brow, “I told you all that I met another vampire.” 

“Not that.” Heeseung softly snapped. 

Niki knew what he was talking about, “It just happened, like right before you spammed my phone. There were other important matters and I didn’t want to distract anyone. We need the girls back and to destroy Dorian, mostly now that he was targeting me to get to you guys and now hurt my mate. I’m done playing games.” 

Niki walked back over to you, and all Heeseung could do was analyze. 

After you were healed up, the leader of your new pack was ready to move out. 

“We need to leave. Now.” Jungwon said, then turning to his soulmate and planting a soft kiss on her lips. 

Jay did the same, telling the girls to behave and not leave the apartment. 

Sunoo and his elf mate dangled their fingers together and were the first two out of the apartment. 

Niki watched Jungwon and Jay and say the final goodbyes to their mates, telling them they would be back soon. 

Niki knelt back down to you, “You need to stay here with them.” 

You shook your head, “No! I want to fight as well!” 

Niki kissed your forehead, “I can’t lose you.” 

You gripped his forearms, hands shaking. You need to be there to stop Dorian if he tries to hurt Niki. You can’t allow it. 

Niki released you from him, following his brothers out the door. 

You cursed to yourself, standing up and leaving the apartment. 

—

Finding the entrance to the compound was easy thanks to __ magic. 

Niki followed behind his brothers and they snuck their way inside. 

Jake and Sunghoon were on the lookout for where they could be keeping their mates. 

The compound was a lot bigger than they expected. Heeseung figured Dorian made it like this purposely to keep anyone from finding him. 

They eventually came to a throne room. The room was painted red and was barely lit. 

“Keep your guard up,” Jungwon said, “I have a bad feeling  about this place.” 

“As you should, Won.”

All the vampires hissed, seeing Dorian walk into the room. 

Niki’s fist tightened, seeing the man who was responsible for hurting you. 

Dorian looked at each of them, a small tsk releasing from his mouth, “I am so disappointed, where are the humans?”

Jungwon stepped in front of everyone, his fangs retracted and hands pulling out his weapon, “Don’t speak about our humans!” He hissed. 

Jay followed right up behind Jungwon, his jaw locked in place. 

Dorian laughed, “The only one who brought their mate was Sunoo, never thought you’d be into elves.” 

Sunoo gritted his teeth, pushing __ behind him. 

“Give me back my witch!” Sunghoon screamed, “Give her back to me!”

Dorian raised a brow, seeing Jake step beside Sunghoon, “I want my dhampir back as well.”!

“Hmm, well of course.” Dorian snapped his fingers, two portals opening. Two vampire women stepped through, holding the witch and dhampir at knifepoint. 

Sunghoon and Jake tried to rush to their mates, Jungwon and Jay grabbing a hold of them.

Heeseung analyzed everything. Something was off. Dorian wouldn’t just hand them over that easily. 

The women threw the witch and dhampir across the room, Sunghoon and Jake being at their side in seconds. 

Sunghoon embraced her, “Oh my beautiful hex girl.” He cried out, holding her weak body tightly against him. 

“You saw my raven?” she spoke, touching her hands to his face. 

Sunghoon nodded, “I did. We received the raven.” 

Jake pulled the dhampir up to her feet, her strength barely there to even stand. 

“Baby, my Luna Nova,” Jake pulled her to him, tears staining his face, “I won’t ever let you go again.” 

Jay and Jungwon pulled Sunghoon, Jake, and their mates behind them. 

That’s when Heeseung noticed it. 

“This is a trap.” 

Everyone looked at him. Dorian’s smirk gets wider. 

“Hyung!” Niki called out, “What do you mean this was a trap?!” 

Heeseung studied the room more. This wasn’t just some normal room. 

“He put a magic barrier in this room that only amplifies his power and weakens ours.” 

Jungwon gritted his teeth, “That's why you gave us the girls back so easily!”

“Oh, how correct you are!” Dorian snapped his fingers again, and a small flame appeared at his fingertips, “Your pack is the strongest out of all the vampire packs. Not to mention you now have a dhampir, witch, and elf in your ranks as well. You guys are a powerhouse!” 

Jay rolled his eyes, “Get to the fucking point!” 

“With you all out of the way, no one can stand in my way of becoming the Vampire King.” 

Heeseung furrowed his eyes, “You’re afraid one of us will take the throne?” he hissed.

Dorian shrugged, “Of course. The last thing we need is your pack in charge.”

“And what makes you think you’re so fit to be king?!” Sunghoon snapped, finally getting his witch back to her feet. 

“Because I achieved what no one else has. I killed an entire coven and stole all their secrets. Got the blood of humans to use and even stole some magic from your witch and strength from your dhampir. I inherited it all. I will kill each and every one of you then challenge the vampire king for his throne. The world will know no peace.” 

Niki clenched his fist, “No one will follow you!” 

The ladies at Dorian’s side giggled, clearly showing where their loyalty was. 

“Don’t worry, Nishimura. I have plenty of other people in this compound already devoted to me…ain’t that right, Y/N.” 

Niki’s heart dropped seeing you appear from behind Dorian. 

Your eyes were swollen from crying. You couldn’t even look at Niki. You already could feel the bond between you two shaking. 

Dorian pulled you to him, hand gripping your chin. 

Niki ran forward, Jay and Jungwon having to hold him back. He hissed as his fangs sharpened to a point. 

Heeseung knew the moment you stepped foot inside the apartment that something was off. You have the power to mask yourself from not just everyone but also your pack. 

“Let her go!!” Niki yelled, fighting against his brothers to get free. 

Heeseung quickly turned around, receiving a nod from the elf. 

She secretly was tearing the barrier down. It was time to fight. 

Dorian noticed right away, the feeling of his power fading. 

Everyone pulled their weapons out, ready to rush Dorian. 

“Wait STOP!” Jungwon screamed, seeing Dorian’s dagger connected to your throat, “He’ll kill her if we move.” 

Niki fought to stay in place. 

“Drop all your weapons. NOW!” Dorian yelled. 

One by one everyone got rid of their weapons, the women collecting them quickly. 

Niki kept his eyes on you, but the more he looked, the more he realized how he was played. 

His soulmate was his enemy. 

Dorian noticed Niki’s reaction, “Hmm you finally pieced the puzzles together huh? Your soulmate betrayed you. Not just right now either. She’s been stalking and following you guys around.”

Heeseung clenched his jaw tighter, “That's how our locations kept getting leaked.” 

Dorian nodded, “You even called it too, saying a mole was watching from a distance. Bravo.”

Niki took a step forward, but the dagger against your neck broke the skin, your blood collecting on the dagger. 

“Don’t move, I’ll kill her right here in front of you.”

Niki shook his head, the old memories returning. Seeing his first love being drained and killed in front of him. He couldn’t go through it again. He can’t. 

Heeseung’s eyes were roaming all over the room, noticing the women who were once at Dorian’s side were gone. 

That’s when Heeseung sensed it. 

Heeseung ducked down, pulling his hidden blade from his boot, grabbing the woman, and holding her to his chest. He stabbed the blade into her shoulder, and blood slightly painted his face, as her screams filled the room.  

Sunghoon and Jungwon were able to catch the other woman, tearing her apart. 

Dorian furrowed his eyes, anger filled him as he watched one of his followers get murdered. Eyes flooded back to Heeseung. 

“Release the girl!” Heeseung yelled, “And I’ll return your follower.”

Niki kept his eyes on you, waiting for the right second to grab you from Dorian. 

Everyone slowly moved forward. The witches and dhampir's strength slowly return. The witch set her hand a blaze, while the elf built a barrier around her pack. 

Dorian was back into a corner(literally). 

He snapped his fingers, and a portal appeared. 

Heeseung slowly shoved the blade further into the woman’s shoulder, her screams getting louder.

Dorian needed a better plan, mostly since his strongest vampire was being held against Heeseung’s chest. 

“Give me my follower back first, then I’ll let go of the little one.” 

Niki whipped around to his hyung, begging with his eyes to let go of the woman.

Heeseung knew the game Dorian was playing and took a step forward, his brothers following. 

Dorian released a laugh, “Oh well this was fun, but I have things cooking in another place. I was expecting the barrier to hold. Oh well.”

He put one foot in the portal but stopped at Niki’s cries.

“GIVE HER BACK!” 

Dorian laughed some more, releasing you from his grip. 

“Silly teenager, I created her. I turned her into what she is now. I gave her eternal life. Her loyalties are to me!” 

Niki moved forward, his arms stretched in front of him, “Y/N, please. We’re soulmates…choose me again. Please choose me again.” 

You wiped the blood from your neck, refusing to look at Niki. You knew Dorian wouldn’t stop until you all were dead. And the only way to keep Niki safe was to betray him. 

You didn’t move from Dorian’s side. 

“Y/N…” 

Dorian’s laugh filled the room, “I told you. Maybe your bond doesn’t run as deep as you thought.”

Dorian stepped through the portal, you following right behind him. 

“Y/N!!!” Niki screamed, causing your heart to break. 

You looked at him one last time, “Just let me go, Niki…you have to let it go.” 

Niki fell to his knees watching you disappear with Dorian. 

“Fuck.” Heeseung mumbled. 

Everyone stood in place, not knowing what to say or do. They could just watch their maknae stare off into the distance. 

“If you’re going to kill me, go ahead and get it over with!” the woman hissed, squirming in Heeseung’s arms. 

“Hmm…” Heeseung hummed, pushing the blade further in, “I have other uses for you.” 

They placed a bag over her head and tied it tightly. 

“Where to now?” Sunghoon asked, pulling his witch closer to him. 

Jungwon looked at Heeseung for confirmation, only speaking after he nodded, “The new safe house.” 

—

The woman was thrown into a chair and tied down, the bag being removed from her head. 

She blinked a couple of times to refocus her vision, seeing Heeseung standing in front of her. 

She squirmed in the chair, quickly looking around the empty room. 

“Where the fuck am I?” 

Heeseung let out a laugh, “That’s a fucking funny joke.” 

She gritted her teeth, the pain in her shoulder returning. 

Her blood was still attached to Heeseung’s face and clothes, and it completely covered her entire clothes. 

Heeseung placed his right boot between her legs on the chair, leaning on his right leg, “Tell us where to find Dorian.” 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

Heeseung pulled out the same blade from earlier out his back pocket, placing the cold silver against her jawline, it burned her skin. 

“This blade was made special for me. Made with the same type of silver that’s used to kill us.” He pressed the blade closer, watching as she gritted her teeth. Heeseung removed the blade, asking her one more time, “Where is Dorian.” 

She refused to answer, instead, laughter filled her lungs. 

“You won’t find him. He succeeded in his experiments to become the strongest vampire. And once he kills the vampire king, he will be stronger than you pack and kill you all.”

Heeseung chuckled, “What makes you so sure that he could kill the vampire king?” 

“Look at what he has achieved,” she tilted her head, “He’ll kill the vampire king, kill you all and save me.” 

Heeseung laughed more, “That’s pretty fucking hilarious actually.”

She furrowed her eyes in confusion. Staring up at Heeseung. The facial expression he was making scared her.

“How is this so funny?” she asked. 

“Because,” Heeseung tilted his head up, his fangs slowly came to a point, his tongue licking his right fang as his eyes turned a different color. It wasn’t the shade of crimson that normal vampires have, but it was bright gold. And the only vampire that has bright golden eyes was…“I am the vampire king.” 

She gasped, seeing how bright golden his eyes were. Seeing six pairs of crimson eyes glowing behind him. 

Heeseung smirked down at her, as the fear settled in.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

This part in Jon III AGoT when he’s realizing that he means to swear his life to a celibate institution at only the age of 14, before he could explore all the options the world has to offer him.

“I don’t care,” Jon said. “I don’t care about them and I don’t care about you or Thorne or Benjen Stark or any of it. I hate it here. It’s too… it’s cold.” “Yes. Cold and hard and mean, that’s the Wall, and the men who walk it. Not like the stories your wet nurse told you. Well, piss on the stories and piss on your wet nurse. This is the way it is, and you’re here for life, same as the rest of us.” “Life,” Jon repeated bitterly. The armorer could talk about life. He’d had one. He’d only taken the black after he’d lost an arm at the siege of Storm’s End. Before that he’d smithed for Stannis Baratheon, the king’s brother. He’d seen the Seven Kingdoms from one end to the other; he’d feasted and wenched and fought in a hundred battles. They said it was Donal Noye who’d forged King Robert’s warhammer, the one that crushed the life from Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He’d done all the things that Jon would never do, and then when he was old, well past thirty, he’d taken a glancing blow from an axe and the wound had festered until the whole arm had to come off. Only then, crippled, had Donal Noye come to the Wall, when his life was all but over.

This part in Jon V, only two chapters later, when he’s finally about to become a man of the Watch but he can’t get too excited because he’s realizing that there’s a great big world down there, yet he’s all the way up here at the Wall - a cold, unwelcoming home; a prison with no escape unless he wishes to die.

He had no destination in mind. He wanted only to ride. He followed the creek for a time, listening to the icy trickle of water over rock, then cut across the fields to the kingsroad. It stretched out before him, narrow and stony and pocked with weeds, a road of no particular promise, yet the sight of it filled Jon Snow with a vast longing. Winterfell was down that road, and beyond it Riverrun and King’s Landing and the Eyrie and so many other places; Casterly Rock, the Isle of Faces, the red mountains of Dorne, the hundred islands of Braavos in the sea, the smoking ruins of old Valyria. All the places that Jon would never see. The world was down that road… and he was here. Once he swore his vow, the Wall would be his home until he was old as Maester Aemon. “I have not sworn yet,” he muttered. He was no outlaw, bound to take the black or pay the penalty for his crimes. He had come here freely, and he might leave freely… until he said the words. He need only ride on, and he could leave it all behind. By the time the moon was full again, he would be back in Winterfell with his brothers. Your half brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King’s Landing either. Even his own mother had not had a place for him. The thought of her made him sad. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her. Because she was a whore or an adulteress, fool. Something dark and dishonorable, or else why was Lord Eddard too ashamed to speak of her? Jon Snow turned away from the kingsroad to look behind him. The fires of Castle Black were hidden behind a hill, but the Wall was there, pale beneath the moon, vast and cold, running from horizon to horizon. He wheeled his horse around and started for home.

Yes Jon could leave the Watch, but he has no place! Because where would he go, bastard that he is?

That’s why the most underrated endgame theory is ‘Traveling Diplomat Jon’. Yes he’s a talented politician and he would do very well as a ruling lord, but there’s so much he’s yet to discover because he struggled to see where his illegitimate status could take him. But even in his bastardy, Jon is connected to so many important locations all around Westeros. Forget Winterfell. He could visit Harrenhall where his parents met. He could go look for rubies in the Trident and see where his father died. He could visit the Vale, the place that raised his adoptive father and the man he’s named after. He could take a trip to Starfall and visit his milkbrother, then visit the Tower of Joy’s ruins. He could got to Dragonstone and Summerhall, his father’s birthplace and home. If he wishes, he can cross the Narrow Sea and visit his friend (and personal banker) Tycho Nestoris in Braavos. And if his suicidal tendencies get stronger, why not visit the smoky ruins of Valyria where sleeping dragons were once brought to life, just like himself?

Jon has spent five books earning his ‘Lord Snow’ title. And though it’s an oxymoron everyone, from baseborn bastards to mighty kings, calls him that and not all of them do it as a sign of mockery. He’s put in a lot of work towards coming to terms with his bastardy. So it’s finally time for him to take that in consideration and realize that there’s a great big world out there that’s ready to welcome him, bastard as he is.

[akingdomscrypt]

War is Over (and what have we done?)

Part One

Paring; Graves x m!reader

Word Count; ~3.3k

Warnings; slight mention of s/h in beginning. For like 2 sentences. A side character is in a coma.

A/n; Another installment already? So soon? It's more likely than you'd think. (also the title was orig. something else, but it was too long so I changed it. So enjoy this ref to that one depressing Christmas song lol.)

--- "code orange" ---

You were the acting Commander of Shadow Company. After the retreat from Las Almas, you and the other Shadows had been left without a leader. So, seeing as you had been second in command since the company had begun, you were indirectly assigned the position. It wasn't exactly something the others gave much thought to; you just happened to be there, barking orders of retreat when the fire caught.

Eleven months later, and here you were. Sitting at a cold, metal desk in a chair that squealed with every movement.

Almost forty-seven weeks after that nightmare had landed you back at home base. A little duller than you remembered, but it was still standing and it wasn't born from the seeds of betrayal. It was yours, it had always belonged to you and the others. That's all that mattered, you told yourself. They were still standing, just like this old, dusty facility, and that is all that counted.

Three-hundred-thirty-four and a half days since you had dug a virgin blade into the back of someone almost considered a friend, and had withdrawn sin instead. You fiddled with that blade now. Between burnt fingertips, singed with the flames of betrayal. Your usual gloves were discarded for this.. ritual of sorts; balancing the knife from finger to finger, slipping it between webbing. Watching it, feeling that cool metal against your mutilated skin, seeing your hidden reflection thrown back at you. You should have left it buried in his flesh, left it back in a whole other country. You hadn't.

Over eight thousand hours have passed, and you hadn't gotten far. Lounging in your familiar yet foreign office, the sharp edge of a blade pressing much too close to scarred, unfeeling palms. The only evidence that it was even there was found in the crimson droplets landing in muted thud's on your desk.

Four hundred and eighty-one thousand, eight hundred and one minutes after the fact and you had an untouched stack of recruitment papers piling up somewhere to your left. Forms you had yet to even make a conscious effort to flip through, even though the choice to reopen enlistments had been your own. Just the mere sight of that new, friendly face smiling on top of the mountain of documents had you grimacing. The bright image plastered there, far too optimistic for your taste, only brought back memories. Memories of other faces. Other names. Names that are lost, but never forgotten. Not to you. One shiny-new recruit could never fill the void of dozens of expertly trained, heartbreakingly familiar war-hardened soldiers.

An ungodly amount of seconds later and here you sat, in all your unholy, defaced glory. With burn scars traveling from the tips of your fingers and along your forearms. Over time you had found that a particularly nasty scar covering parts of your throat and consuming the edges of your jaw often brought back memories you weren't too fond of. It wasn't unusual to wear a mask when on a mission, all the Shadows did, but these days you would never be caught alive without that secure piece of cloth. Concealed and buried deep under, just like your disfigured hands.

So much time had passed, but it never felt like enough.

The first call of a mourning dove is what kick-starts your morning. Sleep wasn't a thing you did often these days, so you would wait in your office after tossing and turning in your bed for who knows how long. Doing the same little ritual every day before daybreak, before that first sorrowful trill.

Then, now that it was socially acceptable for you to, you would exit your office. Chin held high and every inch of skin–apart from the, thankfully, untouched flesh of your upper face–covered, shrouded in black.

Now that your Shadows were beginning to stir, the first part of your morning routine started with you making rounds. Giving a light knock to each metallic door, rousing them from the lingering remnants of sleep.

Once you were finished with that, you'd swing by each place where an exhausted Shadow was stationed. And–with the knowledge that they'd be replaced pretty soon–you would quietly relieve them from their duties. Allowing them to get a few more hours of sleep before the liveliness of the facility was in full swing.

With a murmured; "thanks, Lt." They'd be on their way.

After that, you'd swing by the mess hall and grab a protein bar. Making your way down to medical you would try your damnedest to keep the paranoia-ridden thoughts at bay. Thoughts like he was probably dead. Had died while you were away and you weren't there to see him pass. You ignored them because, just like every other day, when you made it back to his bedside; he was still breathing.

Shadow 0-9. Or, to his friends, Viper. One of the few from your original squad who had made it out of that godforsaken city alive. Well, barely. He was hooked up to various beeping machines, numerous tubes running in and out of his body. You weren't well versed in the knowledge of medical terminology, but you knew the main tube stuck down his throat was hooked up to a ventilator. The main thing keeping him breathing. Assisting his weak lungs in the seemingly daunting task.

Other than the medical tools keeping him breathing and his body stable, there was the–in your humble opinion–excessive amount of medical tape and bandages wrapped around practically his entire body. A near-fatal concussion. Several broken bones. Including, but not limited to, ribs, a wrist, mandible, femur, and humerus. In other words; the entire left side of his body was a mangled mess. A light dusting of his own fair share of burn wounds littered his body, but they weren't extreme and most likely wouldn't scar too badly. The same couldn't be said for you.

Some of the medics had joked that it was a miracle he was still alive. You hadn't laughed.

So there you sat. Watching his comatose sleeping form, nibbling at the protein bar you'd taken from mess. You'd sit there watching waiting for a few hours, guarding him from nothing in particular. There was nothing here that could hurt him. You trusted your medical staff, and they knew how important he was. How important all of your Shadows were. So, really, there was no reason for you to worry. No reason for you to sit here, watching over a man who barely even thought of you as a friend anymore.

But there was a tiny portion of your brain that told you as long as you were here, protecting him, he was untouchable. As if your mere presence was enough to keep the hands of death from reaching out and claiming his already half-dead body.

You could only sit there for so long before the intrusive thoughts became too much and your backside grew numb from sitting in that, frankly hard as hell, metal chair. With one last glance at him, you'd stand, turn around, throw your half-eaten protein bar away, and leave. Not even uttering a goodbye to the fresh morning staff before you were halfway through the door.

Next on your daily schedule was supervising afternoon drills. There had been a prolonged period of time after you all's return that these fields had been empty, the shooting range void of any life, and even the well-frequented gym was dead silent. With over half of the crew injured and the other half too shell-shocked to pick up a weapon or throw a punch, training had come to a standstill. But now, several grueling months later, the grounds were filled with bodies once more.

You didn't join in on the activities much these days. Preferring to train alone, usually when everyone else was asleep and under the blanket of night. But you found a bit of reprieve in watching. A small part of you settled at the sight of your Shadows performing their old drills, laughing and joking around with each other during breaks. It felt almost like old times. It reminded you that–while you'd lost more soldiers than you could sanely count–there was still good here. That they were alive and well, and not attached to an ungodly amount of life-stabilizing medical equipment.

You preferred them laughing without restraint–even if that meant you were a little lax on the rules he had put in place–over the sight of them bed bound to a thin, uncomfortable cot.

When afternoon training lulled to an end, you would silently take your leave. Not even glancing at the now-crowded mess hall–you should probably hire more staff, especially if there would soon be fresh recruits joining in soon–you would head straight for your office once more. Head up in the clouds–rainy, dark grey clouds.

You hated how familiar these walls were. How you could still hear the laughter of long-since dead soldiers lingering behind every corner. Their voices haunted you. It's what kept you up at night. Well, that and the unrelenting burn of your otherwise dead flesh.

The med team had said it should stop soon. They had even sent you on your way with a tube of burn cream. Something about nerve endings needing to scar over. That, besides an itching now and again, your marred skin should heal over pretty well over the course of a few months.

That had been a week after your return to base, and the tube had long since been used months ago. It still burned, still felt like you were surrounded by that scalding metal. Like you could still feel those flames melting your skin, even through your uniform, that acrid smoke scorching your heaving lungs.

You didn't think to mention this to the med staff. They had enough on their hands as it was, they didn't need you taking up their valuable time on top of it.

They had had to peel the cloth off your body. The mixture of nylon and cotton had melted, welding itself to your burning flesh. You'd been bed-bound for weeks. After that, though it was strongly encouraged you stayed still, you had had enough and we're walking around the base with the top half of your body wrapped in an excessive amount of gauze. It's not like they could stop you, after all.

Since you and the others had returned, missing a large chunk of the team that had gone with–including a certain someone no one had dared to mention–, not a single person had said a word against you. None of them questioned your authority. Not even the most hard-headed, he-who-shall-not-be-named loyal soldiers had opened their mouths. You had that going for you at least.

Now, pushing open your office door, it was time for the most dreadful time of your day. You had spent months getting your team back together and making sure everyone was at an acceptable level of okay before you made the company's presence known again. You had begun reasserting your credibility with other organizations, strengthening ties with old allies. No one else was going to do it, so it may as well have been you.

It was several, several more months after that when you had taken the step to reopen communications with the very team you had backstabbed. More time after that for their leader, the Captain himself, to even acknowledge your attempts at lending an olive branch.

After all of that, he had finally agreed to speak to you. And only you. His only prerequisites were that you were only to communicate with him directly and that you had no connections with the supposed dead man and the General. The Captain had required proof that the old commander was no longer in your ranks–you couldn't offer confirmed death, but several invasive questions later were enough for him. Failure to comply with these demands–and on the impossible chance he was alive–was followed by an unspoken threat of your untimely death.

Insurance. He'd called it.

So, here you were. Sitting in front of your laptop and waiting for that god-awful video call, hoping you would be able to salvage the shredded remains that were your allyship with task force 141. A bond that had been clawed apart and mutilated by your own sinful hands.

The ringtone pierced through the deafening silence of the room, ice-cold dread clutches at your chest and your body seizes. It takes you far too long to uncurl your clenched fist–a blank icon along with the phrase Capt. Price blinking on the screen–and urge a gloved finger to press that button and accept the call.

The fuzzy, pixelated screen eventually smoothes out and suddenly you have lost the ability to talk. You had never spoken to this man before, outside of encrypted emails.

"Evening, Lieutenant." His graveled, British voice echoes through the speaker. You had never even directly traded words with him in person, a silent shadow–hah–behind that arrogant man. An observer. Not much of a talker.

"You alright there?" He's obviously sitting in his own office. That wooden desk and warm-toned background is a high contrast to your own metal desk and dull, grey theme. "Lieutenant?"

"Jus'-" your accent had a habit of sneaking out of that latched box of professionalism when anxiety flooded your veins. You cleared your throat with a small cough to correct it. "Just peachy, Captain."

An awkward silence lulls on. This is why you didn't do this. You had always been a trusted soldier, well-versed in various strategies of combat. You could clear a room of unfriendlies with only your favorite blade without breaking a sweat. But this? You didn't do this. Communication. The very idea of it sent your mind reeling, all coherent thoughts scrambling.

"Good." Ohthankgod. "Now, are you ready to begin?"

"Affirmative, sir." Ew. Why did you sound like that? All… strained and unnatural. As if you were a robot imitating a human, or an alien occupying a body for the first time.

"Very well." The sound of some papers shuffling and a chair adjusting emit from his side of the call. "So we have already established that Gra-"

"The old commander." You quickly, and unthinkingly, interject. You internally cringe at your reflex reaction and you're about to apologize when the Captain says;

"Right. The old commander. The hopefully deceased commander."

"I cannot say for sure that he is, Captain." You really can't. There was a lot of fire. A lot of blood. "But I can confirm he does not reside with us any longer."

"And where would that be?"

"I'd rather not discuss this topic, sir." Ah, yes. Tell him the location of you and your Shadows. That sounded like a perfectly safe and wise decision.

"Of course." A beat of silence. "On to other matters then. Would you say your team has-"

A frantic knock at your door halts his question. You don't mute the call, but you do give a slight raise of your hand. For professionalism's sake, you wouldn't typically answer the door. But this sounded urgent. Hardly anyone ever knocked.

Looking up from your laptop, you call out a clipped; "Come in."

Venn opens the door quickly, barely catching it from slamming against the wall behind it. Her eyes are wide with panic, breathing slightly labored. Fear grips your heart and your already tense body goes eerily rigid.

She's about to open her mouth when you give a pointed look back down at your laptop and the in-progress video call. Venn nods slightly in acknowledgment and takes a moment to calm herself.

"Lieutenant." She says, voice level and stiff.

"Is there something wrong, 2-1?" You do your best to keep your own tone even but damnit it's taking everything in you not to launch to your feet and into action. You don't even know the problem yet.

"There's…" Venn takes a second to think, breathing deeply through her nose. "We've got a.. we've got ourselves a code orange, sir."

You inhale sharply through clenched teeth.

"A code orange. Are you certain, 2-1?"

"Yes." Her quick reply. You nod and look back down to the waiting man on the screen.

"Sorry, Captain." You grit out. "But I'm 'fraid we'll have to reschedule."

"Tomorrow then?" He looks suspicious of your behavior, even more, concerned with the words you and your Shadow had shared. You couldn't worry about that right now. Not with a fucking code orange.

"Sure." You slam the end call button with a little more pressure than necessary. Poor keyboard. It was a surprise the damned thing was still running.

When the Captain's image closes and disappears from your screen, you jump to your feet.

"Are you sure?" You ask again as you stalk around your desk. Venn moves out of the way to allow you to exit your office, hurrying to catch up to you as you don't stop. You don't even know where you're heading.

"Where?"

Those implemented codes had never actually been used before. This was a first. No one knew what to do with themselves.

"The front gate, sir." Her voice trembles–hell, her whole body is shaking–and there's obviously something she's not telling you. You don't press for more. You will find out soon enough.

"The front gate?"

A fucking code orange.

"Yes."

An intruder.

You both more or less start jogging after that. She doesn't expand further. Simply half walk-half running by your side.

It takes a few minutes to make your way down to the first level of the facility–and that's far too much in your opinion. Every second that went by was a second you didn't know what was happening. A second out of your control. What if someone was hurt? Dead? Was the intruder attacking? Was it someone you knew? An outsider? Maybe just a lost tourist. This far away from the city made that last one very unlikely.

You push through the final door that leads to the front lawn and slow your pace to an assertive walk. It wouldn't do you well to let the unknown subject know their presence was a major concern for you. You didn't want to give them that pleasure.

Venn leaves your side to join–when the hell did they all get outside??–the alarmingly large grouping of your Shadows at the gate.

When she gets there and announces your arrival to the first Shadow she sees, they all turn to look at you. It takes you being a couple of feet from the group for the man she had whispered to to speak.

"Lieutenant." Kip sighs, raising both hands out in a placating manner. There's a certain wariness in his tone you aren't too fond of. "Don't panic. Lemme just preface this by saying-"

"Show me." You had no time for pleasantries.

Another sigh. "As you wish."

The sea of soldiers parts, giving you a front-row seat to the person standing in the middle of the opened gate.

A person you had never thought you'd see again. Never wanted to see again. Especially not smiling.

"Hey, there, Pha-"

"Detain him." It's a simple command. And your Shadows follow without a second thought. As you had mentioned; no one questioned your authority.

He lets himself be grabbed. Excessive ties around his wrists, strained a little more roughly behind his back than necessary. They herd him away quickly and silently, not uttering a word.

"What are you gonna do, sir?" Venn, very hesitantly–shifting her weight from side to side–asks.

"Whatever is necessary."

So much time had passed,

Midnight laughs, shared glances, desperate touches, breathy gasps, skin on skin-

But it was never enough.

___

Masterpost | Next

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@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!

I figured I'd tag y'all just in case. I know it's probably not the fic you were expecting, but it's a part of the same AU and their paths with eventually cross. If you don't wanna be tagged for this fic in particular let me know! ^-^

[the-monkey-ruler]

Hello!!! Stumbled upon this blog on a casual scroll-through and am super impressed at how thorough and passionate it is!! Kudos!!

I had a question, if it’s not too much of a bother:

Is there any sort of artifact mentioned in JTTW (or Chinese mythology at large) that’s been used to contain a yaoguai’s power/take it away from them? Maybe in the vein of Guanyin’s vase? Sorry if this doesn’t make sense.

So what you are asking for is something that can take away cultivation so to speak? There are some tv/movies that do show other yaoguai that are able to eat the life force of yaoguai and forcing them back into their original state therefore taking away their power and their humanoid form.

However that is more popular in modern media, as for any canon items they are more focused on subduing and capturing rather than depowering.

Gaunyin's vase sadly hasn't been able to show any depowering abilities either if you were asking about that. It has been show to whole an entire ocean and that it can hold healing water. But there are movies where she is able to capture demons (such as Wukong) in her vase and keep them in a state of status. But I don't know how in canon that is as she does have a lot of history outside of journey to the west.

But on to magical items in journey to the west! I shall rank them from most subduing to least subduing

Subduing Buff Attacking

Golden Jade Ring (金剛琢) - it can change size, is invulnerable to water and fire, can strike all things, collect various magic weapons and weapons, and has infinite uses. Laojun used this treasure to knock down Sun Wukong and help Erlang Shen capture him. The One Horned King used this treasure to take away Sun Wukong's golden hoop, Nezha's six weapons, and the magic weapons of hundreds of gods and generals. It can even dissolve water, fire, thunder and lightning. Later, Taishang Laojun, who came down to the world himself, defeated it with a fire-type banana fan. This was the thing that put Wukong stop in his tracks, doesn't take away power but def the most powerful.

Flask of Yin and Yang Essence (陰陽二氣瓶) - it contains the Seven Treasures and Eight Diagrams, twenty-four Qi, and requires thirty-six people, according to the number of Tiangang, to lift it. This treasure can hold a person and if a person does not speak, the bottle will be very cool. But once they speak, fire will burn them into pulp water in a moment. Wukonghad to use his Golden Hair he was given by Guanyin to escape. While not invincible it took another magical item to counteract it and thus very powerful.

Golden Cymbals (金鐃) - the magic weapon used by the Yellow-Browed Monster who trapped Sun Wukong inside and would have turned to puss inside it if he didn't escape. Sun Wukong escaped from the golden cymbal with the help of Kang Jinlong and immediately broke it. Took nearly an army to escape it, very powerful.

Purple Gold Red Gourd (紫金紅葫蘆) - as long as you call out your opponent's name if they respond, the elixir will pull them inside. Then a note with the words "The Supreme Lord Laozi, please obey my command as soon as possible" will be posted on it, and the elixir will turn into pus in a few hours. Hard to say how powerful this is since Wukong escaped it twice turning into a bug so... take that as user error or not.

Human Sack (人種袋) - Sun Wukong invited the twenty-eight constellations, the two generals of the tortoise and the snake, the five great dragons, Prince Xiao Zhang and the four great generals, but they were all put into the monster's bag. Later, Maitreya Buddha took back the human seed bag and put the demon king into the bag. Very powerful but does not kill, so less of a threat.

Golden Cloth Rope (幌金繩) it was originally a belt used by Taishang Laojun to tie his robe. It has a tightening rope spell but also a loosening rope spell and if a user knows both they most likely will not be affected. Powerful but if you know the loosening spell it is useless.

Suet Jade Flask (羊脂玉淨瓶) this was used by Taishang Laojun to make elixirs and hold water. It has space inside to hold water from all over the world.

Seven Stars Sword (七星劍) - the real sword from the Ming and Qing dynasties that has survived in modern times was used by Tan Sitong. The seven stars are mainly symbolic, but from the perspective of material mechanics, they should have the function of buffering stress concentration and preventing the sword from breaking.

Palm Leaf Fan (芭蕉扇) - The two banana fans, yin and yang, are held by Taishang Laojun and Princess Iron Fan respectively: the banana fan used by Taishang Laojun is yang, and the six Ding divine fire it fanned is the power source of the alchemy furnace; the banana fan used by Princess Iron Fan is yin, and its water vapor can extinguish the fire in Huoyan Mountain. The two fans are mutually reinforcing and mutually restraining. There are prototypes that can be traced in reality.

Banana Leaf Fan (芭蕉扇) - The extremely yin treasure fan can fan out water vapor, and water can extinguish fire, so it can extinguish the 800-li Flame Mountain. "Journey to the West" Chapter 59 "Tang Sanzang's Road Blocks the Flame Mountain, Sun Xingzhe Uses the Banana Fan" "...Her banana fan was originally a magical treasure created by heaven and earth since the beginning of chaos behind Kunlun Mountain. It is the essence of the Taiyin, so it can extinguish fire." The yin wind fanned out can make people drift 84,000 miles before it can stop.

Purple-Gold Bells (紫金鈴) - This Purple Gold Bell was forged by Taishang Laojun in the Eight Diagrams Furnace, and it is very powerful. Shake it once, and fire will come out. Shake it twice, and smoke will come out. Shake it three times, and sand and rocks will fly. Sun Wukong stole the golden bell and then subdued "Sai Taisui".

If you are looking for more magic items that can take away cultivation I actually think that there is something in FSYY that took away some daoists' cultivation... but I think that was more of a formation than an item... I'm sorry I didn't take notes on but that novel DEF has a lot of magical items!!

[tctteredwings]

[joe keery, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! OLIVER “OLI” METCALFE just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for HIS WHOLE LIFE ON AND OFF, working as an ARTIST & STAFF AT THE MoMA. that can’t be easy, especially at only 31 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit WITHDRAWN and MESSY, but i know them to be SELF-AWARE and CREATIVE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! 

IN A NUTSHELL; wearing his heart on his sleeve, hiding away in a quiet corner with a sketch pad, the sleeves of his hoodie covering his paint-stained hands, scuffed & untied converse, fiercely protective.

tw: parental death, severe depression, anxiety

Name: Oliver Metcalfe Nicknames: Oli Age: Thirty-one Date of birth: 3rd December 1992 Birth place: Manhattan, New York Occupation: Artist & staff at the MoMA Romantic/sexual orientation: Homoromantic/homosexual

IMMEDIATE FAMILY.

Parents: ___ & ___. Siblings: Margaret Metcalfe & Violet Metcalfe. Children: none. Pets: One border terrier named Claude.

ABOUT.

Oliver’s family had always been well known, his father owning a successful chain of luxury hotels, but it was apparent from an early age that the youngest of the Metcalfe’s had no interest in that.

He was the quiet one, who was happy to sit back while his older sisters caused chaos around the city. To some he came across as boring, for him, all he wanted was solitude.

When his father passed away suddenly, Oliver only seven at the time, he quickly realised he couldn’t hide away forever. He was suddenly the man of the house, conversations would turn to him inheriting the family business when he turned eighteen. It was too much for a young boy and before long he withdrew further into himself.

Family gatherings were something he avoided like the plague, school too to a certain extent. He did all he could to keep away from the place, cutting classes and hiding out, only attending when he really felt like it.

By the age of fourteen he was diagnosed with depression, forced into an intervention by his family, and then marched off to see a doctor. Given a concoction of meds and locked away in his room, it worked for a time, his family content that he was working on getting better. But Oliver didn’t care, didn’t want to spend the rest of his life reliant on a bunch of pills, so he began hoarding them. His mother was convinced he was still taking them, too consumed with what was going on with his older sisters, and so he was able to slip out and toss them in the trash on collection days unnoticed.

A year later, things changed. No one really expected it, least of all him. He was fifteen and he fell in love with his best friend. But the problem was that his friend definitely didn’t feel the same way. In fact, his friend seemed disgusted when Oliver finally found the courage to say something to him, pushing him away in every sense of the word. He didn’t take it well; fell back into the abyss, shutting himself away from everyone and everything. They never spoke again, mostly Oliver's fault as he refused to listen.

He did his best to keep up pretenses around his family, though, knowing how much they’d worry about him and take away from their own lives. That was the last thing he ever wanted, for them to start putting him above what they wanted and needed. If there was one thing he’d never wanted to be to anyone, it was a burden, and as time went on, he couldn’t help the way those feelings developed and deepened. He was getting in the way.

On the ninth anniversary of his father’s death things reached an all time low for him. He was writing letters for all of his family members and hoarding painkillers by the hundred. In the end it was a mere idea and nothing more, instead he was found sobbing on the floor of his bedroom by one of his sisters and he told her everything that day.

For the first time he let people in and let them help him. He was able to finish school without any problem and made a move across to Paris for a couple of years for art school, needing to take a break and take time for himself.  No one was particularly happy about him moving away after everything that had happened, but he assured them all that he could take care of himself and they relented.

And Paris treated him well, he made friends, actually began to live his life and become who he wanted to be. Art had been something he’d enjoyed from an early age, sketching and painting, and with the guidance of the right people, he flourished.

Five years later and he returned to the city he grew up in, hesitant about how he left things with some people, but safe in the knowledge that he did the right thing.

Now he’s been back for eight years he’s made a real life for himself, he works in the MoMA and in his spare time, works on his own pieces. He lives in a small apartment with a good friend and feels settled, like nothing can go wrong.

TLDR; Oliver grew up in New York's Upper East Side and his family own a luxury chain of hotels that span the States ( and parts of Europe ), something he was set to inherit, but had little interest in. He's quiet and likes to keep to himself, only letting those he knows well get to know the real him. Following the death of his father and a struggle with his mental health, he moved to France for five years to attend art school and 'find himself' again. One of his older sisters inherited the family business and he focused on his art instead, which he still does today, working as a freelance artist and also as staff at the MoMA. He enjoys being surrounded by the art and showing others a passion for it.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Title: Can’t Stay Awake       Day: Febuwhump 2023, Day 18: Can’t Stay Awake   Fandom:  TMNT 2003 Word Count: 2355   Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating:  K/G   Characters: Donatello, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Splinter, Leatherhead Warning:     Summary: After being cured of his secondary mutation, Donatello just can’t seem to stay awake. It was understandable at first, but as his recovery stretches on and his need for sleep persists, his family can’t help but worry that something else is wrong. Fortunately, Leatherhead may have some answers.   Notes:  Occurs after the Good Genes Arc. Did I do five minutes of research on turtles and light, and the write this as I’m fighting staying awake myself? Yes, yes I did. Please pardon any inaccuracies. This is not my best work.   ff.net || AO3

_______________________________________

Can’t Stay Awake

It hadn’t concerned anyone too much when Donatello couldn’t stay awake on the helicopter ride home. He had been raging as that monster for days, refusing to eat or drink a majority of the time. Before that he had been sick. Changing back had to have taken a great toll on him, especially when combined with everything else. So when he tried but failed to keep himself awake as they flew back home, no one thought anything much about it. They were just thrilled to have him back with them.

No one even thought much about it when they got home, and he had trouble waking up or keeping himself awake long enough to get inside and to their medbay, where Leatherhead could monitor him. Don had basically been asleep on his feet, and Leo and Raph had supported him pretty much the whole way there. He had passed out almost immediately after they laid him down and slept through pretty much all of the tests that Leatherhead had run.

No one had even been too concerned when he slept for pretty much the whole next day. They hadn’t been too concerned when, after that, even though he was up for small periods of time, he had fallen asleep easily and quickly, often in bizarre places just because he was that tired.

But when it persisted after a week, they began to grow concerned.

“Where is Donatello?” Splinter looked at his other three sons, but none of them seemed to have an answer.

“I haven’t seen him since last night, Sensei,” Mikey said. “When he went to bed.”

“What time was that?” Splinter asked.

“Uhh… pretty early, actually,” he said. “Maybe… seven-thirty? Maybe eight?”

“Don never use’ta go to sleep that early,” Raph said, casting a worried look towards his brother’s bedroom door.

“I know,” Splinter said, worry in his voice.

“I knocked on his door this morning,” Leo said. “He responded, so I thought he was awake.”

Splinter hummed. “Leonardo, go get your brother.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Leo wasted no time in getting up and heading towards Don’s room, clearly just as worried as the rest of them.

The three remaining family members waited in silence, all of them listening to make sure that nothing was wrong. However, after a few minutes, Leo returned with Don in tow, and they all relaxed a little.

“Sorry, guys,” Don said, sheepishly. “I guess I fell back asleep.”

“We will discuss it later,” Splinter said. “For now, join your brothers in morning meditation.”

“Yes, Master Splinter,” Don said, and sat down with his brothers, settling between Mikey and Leo.

While meditation wasn’t Don’s strongest area, he was usually fairly decent at it, so long as he focused on it and not on the hundreds of projects and problems he was working on. He usually took it pretty seriously, even more so after the Triceriton invasion. So, when he slumped over onto Mikey, startling him out of his meditation, it was a bit surprising.

Mikey yelped, Don startled, and everyone else jumped up, only to see Mikey with his hands on Don, helping the sheepish turtle to sit up.

“Sorry,” Don, apologized again.

“Are you alright, Donatello?” Splinter asked him.

Don nodded. “Just… tired.”

Splinter nodded. “Perhaps some physical exercise will help to stimulate you. Leonardo. I want you to start with the basic katas I told you about yesterday. Help your brother through them.”

Don looked a little insulated. “Basic katas? But that’s stuff we learned when we were kids.”

Splinter leveled a look at him. “Nevertheless,” he said. “Your body had been through something horrific and traumatizing. We will build it back little by little and start with the basics. When I feel you are ready, you will move on.”

Don’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Yes, Master Splinter.”

“Come on, Don,” Leo said, clapping a hand on Don’s shoulder. “It won’t be that bad!”

“I guess not,” Don muttered, but allowed Leo to lead him away.

While Splinter worked Raphael and Michelangelo through more rigorous training and exercises, Leonardo led Donatello over to the side, where they started with some basic stretches and practice. It was more to loosen up than anything else, but it still allowed Leo to keep an eye on Don. He was still tired, of course, but aside from being a little tight in his stretches, physically he didn’t seem that bad off.

They finished the stretches rather quickly and then moved on to the very first kata they had learned as children. Don still knew the kata well, but his forms in it were not as crisp as they needed to be. Exhaustion seemed to pull at him as his arms sagged, and his stances were shaky. It was clear that Don was aware of it, and that it frustrated him. It was also clear that the more he did it, the worse it became. Don seemed to become more and more tired, more and more frustrated, until Leo wondered if they should stop. Don looked asleep on his feet and—

Leo leapt forward as Don stumbled, and practically fell down. “Don!”

At Leo’s call, the others stopped, hurrying over. Don was sitting up, Leo’s arms around him, and trying to wave off his family’s concern, but the exhaustion was just too much.

“M’sorry,” he said. “I’m just so tired.”

“That is enough for the day,” Splinter said, finally giving into his worry. “Leonardo, Raphael, take your brother to the medbay. Michelangelo, please call Leatherhead, and see if he will come. I fear that something is not right, and I want him to check Donatello over.

There were a series of acknowledgements, and then his sons moved, doing as he asked of them. Donatello mumbled out another exhausted “I’m sorry” as his brothers took him away. It was only when they were all out of sight that Splinter allowed himself a moment. They had saved his son from being that monster, but he worried it was not enough.

Leatherhead was quick to come over, Michelangelo going to get him so that some of his equipment could be brought back to their home. Once again, Leatherhead ran Donatello through a gambit of tests, although he did seem to add a few more that he hadn’t before. While they waited on the results and for Leatherhead to interpret them, everyone loitered in the medbay, wanting to keep an eye on Don as he slept. Fortunately, Leatherhead did not seem too bothered by having an audience watching over his shoulder as he interpreted the results of the test.

“Most things remain just as I told you before,” Leatherhead finally said. “His cells, while retaining some damage from the secondary mutation, seem to be settling in nicely with the cure. Its has gone into his DNA and turned off the genes that allowed for Donatello to experience the secondary mutation. Part of his tiredness is from his body adjusting to that.”

“But LH, it’s been, like, a week!” Mikey said. “Shouldn’t he be, I dunno, not falling asleep in his Wheaties every morning?”

“Yes, that is a concern,” Leatherhead said. “Which is why I ran a few additional tests.” He paused for a moment, using Don’s computer and an old projector to put the results of the test up on the wall. “When Donatello mutated for the second time, his body went through many changes. He grew in size, his shell changed shape, and he gained other features. When he was changed back, there were similar results, just in reverse.” He tapped a projection of Don’s shell. “How much do you know about the needs of turtles when it comes to growth?”

The three turtles looked at each other, as if trying to figure out where Leatherhead was going with this. Splinter was the one who spoke up. “They require heat and sunlight,” he said. “When my sons were young, I noticed that if I could get them into heat and sunlight, they faired better. They seemed to grow more and be healthier in general.”

Leatherhead nodded. “Yes. Turtles need sunlight to produce D3, which helps with bone and shell growth, as well as help in digesting food. Being mutants, the need in your sons would not have been as great, as the mutation would have reduced the need for that. But it was still good for them.”

“Is that why layin’ out at the farm feels so good?” Raph asked.

“Most likely,” Leatherhead said.

“But what does this have to do with Don falling asleep all of the time?” Leo asked.

Leatherhead turned back to his reports. “With the changes that happened in him, his entire body is having to restructure. You are feeding him the diet I recommended, correct?”

“Yes,” Splinter confirmed.

“And it is clear that he is getting adequate rest. Yet his body seems to be slow to recover and exhausted.” Leatherhead looked back to his friends. “It will not account for all of the exhaustion, but I think that what Donatello’s body is going through is similar to a period of rapid growth. However, to grow properly, he needs exposure to UVB light and sunlight. Exposure to that will not only bring him warmth, but allow for him to properly digest his food and help to build his shell and bones. When you combine that with the general trauma and Donatello’s previously unhealthy state, I believe this could account for his inability to stay awake. Put simply, his body is putting all of his energy into growth and recovery and trying to compensate for a lack of resources.” Leatherhead looked back at Donatello. “It is only a theory, you understand, but it the best theory I have.”

“Hm. It is one that makes sense,” Splinter said, bringing a paw to the end of his muzzle as he contemplated Leatherhead’s words.

“So whatda we do?” Raph asked, stepping forward. “We can’t exactly go layin’ around in the sun.”

“No, but… maybe we can bring the sun to him,” Leo said. “What about heat lamps?” he asked, turning to Leatherhead. “Would those make a difference?”

“You would need UVB lights, too, but it would be a start,” Leatherhead said.

“Wait!” Mikey snapped his finger. “Hang on, I think Don was talking about something like that before all of this. He was actually, uh,” he looked over at Leo. “He was actually thinking of way to help your shell heal faster and stronger.”

There was a beat of silence as no one quite knew what to say to that, but everyone knew that it was just so inherently Don that it made sense.

“Anyway,” Mikey continued. “He was working on some lamp or something up in the garage, I think.”

“He was!” Raph said. “I remember draggin’ him away from it a few times, because he wouldn’t rest.”

“Let me see them,” Leatherhead said.

It didn’t take long for Leatherhead to look over the lamps and pronounce them exactly what they needed. He had to make a few minor adjustments to them to finish them out, but it wasn’t long before he had two working UVB lights and the brothers were transporting them down to the infirmary.

“Will this work, Leatherhead?” Splinter asked as the other adjusted the lights over Donatello.

“Perhaps,” Leatherhead said. “It should allow for him to process food better, getting more nutrients from it, which will help. He will still need to rest a lot,” he said. “But hopefully this will help speed the process along.”

“Whether it does or not, we are grateful to you for your help,” Splinter said.

Leatherhead shook his head. “No, my friend. I am more than happy to help.”

With the lights on him, Don woke not too soon afterwards. The situation was explained to him, and he agreed to stay under the lights quite frequently. For the next week, they watched him closely, noting that he seemed to have more energy and a bigger appetite. He still napped frequently and tired out much quicker than before his second mutation, but it was an improvement.

Casey and April had been thrilled to see Don’s improvement as well. After learning that Don seemed to be out of danger and that sunlight was a major factor in allowing his body to recover naturally, a trip to the farmhouse was proposed and accepted.

For a few weeks, Don lounged about up there, laying or working in the sunshine as much as possible. His brothers often joined him, and slowly but surely, Don seemed to come back to himself, his progress outpacing what Leatherhead had predicted from the lamps alone. By the time they returned to the city, Don was nearly ready to hit the ground running, even if his brothers weren’t quite ready for that.

There was still the question of the lamps, though.

“What are you going to do with them?” Leo asked as he watched his brother move about the medbay.

“Keep them,” Don replied, looking for a good place to store them. “Even if we do get more sunlight now than we used to, it’s still not a bad thing to have lying around. Besides,” he glanced at Leo. “I want to see if this can help your shell heal.”

Leo shook his head. It was just like his brother to already be planning on how he could help his brothers. “I’m not so concerned about that,” Leo said, slinging an arm around Don’s shoulders. “I’m just glad that you’re feeling better.”

Don leaned into the arm a bit, and then playfully headbutted Leo. “Yeah, well, still. But thanks. I’m glad things are finally going to get back to normal.”

Leo grinned, but tightened his hold on Don, turning into a light headlock. “You say that now, little brother, but just wait until Mikey’s coming to you all the time with something he broke.”

As if on cue, there was a crash, and then Mikey’s voice going “..Oops,” and Don couldn’t help but laugh. Even if he was still a bit tired, he was more than glad for life to finally get back to normal.

[breitweisergallery]

fic stats meme! 💌

Tagged by @mangacat201 and, speaking of eclectic mixes of fandoms... This will cross as many of my ao3 accounts that I can remember the login info to (which, it turns out, was 6 separate accounts)

rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

most hits: imagining the integration of our images - 5777 hits (The Devil Judge)

On the one day that Gaon is late to class, it happens to be the day they’re picking their practicum names. Supposedly, as Soohyun tells him later, they had picked based on their standings in the class. Gaon, at third, would have had nearly any choice in practicum. Instead, he trudges up the steps to the penitentiary with reluctant acceptance of the failure from the course.

It’s his luck, he thinks, to be assigned the singular criminal to not yet answer any of the questions posed to him, whether by professionals or by students trying to loosen him up. “Don’t give him anything, Gaon-ah,” Jungho had said, resting his hand on Gaon’s shoulder with a worried expression. Gaon knew, if it had been up to Jungho, if the practicum wasn’t overseen by the department as a whole, that the man, practically his father, would have found a way to give him anyone but Kang Yohan.

Kang Yohan. The man’s name itself was barely spoken aloud now, six years after he had been sentenced to life in prison. He had been such a rare case, of a smart and ambitious young man snapping. Gaon had stayed up late, reading on the case, well past when he likely should have gone to sleep.

second most kudos: a place to be - 326 kudos (The Devil Judge)

They’re in Switzerland for thirteen months before Yohan glances down at his phone and Elijah recognizes the number as Gaon’s. “Are you seeing him?” Elijah asks, casual and calm, like every other time she’s asked the question. It works, because Yohan freezes and slowly raises his head to stare at her, incredulous.

“What?”

“Are you seeing him?” she repeats and nods her head, as if to say yes, him. Yohan scoffs.

“Don’t be childish.”

third most comments: envious of the musical sounds of my name from your tongue, whispered in the folds of being - 24 comment threads (The Devil Judge)

“Let’s speak honestly,” Kang Yohan says lowly. “You’re covering for one of the other members of your group. Which one is it?” Gaon stares at him, silent. “I’ll be lenient if you tell me,” Yohan prompts. “Who is it? Kim Chanhee? Yoo Joonwoo? Bae Woojin?”

“I’ve admitted to the crimes countless times and I have been sentenced, Judge Kang,” Gaon says steadily. He looks back down and returns to shading his landscape. He doesn’t look down quickly enough to miss the curl of Kang Yohan’s lips into a smile.

“You will work until you are able to pay off an amount of one hundred and thirty seven million won,” Yohan says, tapping his nails against the desk.

“I stole one hundred and twenty seven million won’s worth of items.” Gaon looks up again, frowning.

“And another ten million won for perjury,” Yohan counters. “Good day, Kim Gaon. I’ll see you soon.”

fourth most bookmarks: voices stolen and people borrowed - 81 bookmarks (The Devil Judge)

It’s hard to get back into the groove of writing. The words aren’t quite there like they used to be, and Gaon spends more time staring at empty pages than actually writing. The muscle memory isn’t quite there and the words escape him when he needs them most.

But, like clockwork, there’s a customer who comes in at the same time every night, who gives Gaon a respite from staring at the empty page and hoping that words will come to him.

The customer always comes in with messy hair, in a hoodie and ripped jeans and boots that Gaon only places as brand name after the fourth time he sees the man. He buys an energy drink, a packaged meal, and whatever the brand of fruit snacks in the far left corner of the store are called, as many of the fruit snacks as he can fit into his pocket. He pays in cash and never speaks. Gaon notices, the same time he recognizes the brand of shoe that he wears, that the man has earbuds in, hidden underneath the shagginess of his hair. It takes another week before Gaon catches a glimpse of the man’s phone- the newest model Android- and he realises that the man isn’t listening to music, but rather, an audiobook.

fifth most words: Look Who's Inside Again - 17214 words (TXT, Super Junior)

She's never talked about his father before. All Kang Taehyun knows, is that his father and mother broke up before he was born, before his mother even knew she was pregnant with him, and she hadn't been able to get in contact with him after.

And then he debuted, and his mother finally breaks, finally gave him pictures. Taehyun recognizes the men in the picture immediately- what young idol doesn't know them- and he realizes in a split second that his life has just become infinitely more confusing.

--

Or Kang Taehyun finds out his dad is the leader of Super Junior and they both struggle to find what family means to them, when their homes have always been broken.

fic with the least words: Things that will Disappear are so Beautiful - 549 words (BTS)

The sun forms shades of pink and orange and purple on the horizon, setting in the purest fashion; in silence, disappearing without a trace. The sounds of the city are like ambience, faded against the pounding in his head, behind his eyes, and the itch against his inner lip, and the twitch in his fingers to move, always move. The twitter of birds chirping in the trees and the quiet rush of cars on the street, occasionally broken by the harsh honking of an impatient traveler; some days he misses the silence of the world and the simplicity of the wind against individual blades of grass, flowing like ripples following a single drop in a lake.

Tagging: @stars-after-dark, @godotismissingx, @thedeviljudges, @technitango and @lilacariess, as well as anyone else who wants to!

[akystaracer22]

I have a habit almost nobody practices. It's stupid, completely inconsequential and I've even been bullied for it. But I like it, and it's become such an important part of me that I can't change it if I tried.

It's called Timekeeping.

A thousand milliseconds in a second.

Sixty seconds in a minute.

Sixty minutes in an hour

Twenty-four hours in a day

Seven days in a week.

My habit goes on.

It's always there at the back of my mind, keeping track of that funny little thing called time.

I know it's been exactly Ten years, Four months, Two weeks, One day, Twelve hours, Thirty-seven minutes and Sixteen seconds as of this moment since I have started this habit. It was hard at first, what with the whole concept of time being all but erased from the planet, but the old internet was still reliable for those who used it. The concept of time fascinated me from the moment I first heard of it, and I couldn't help myself, I became possibly the only human alive to keep track of it.

It had its upsides and its downsides however, like all things did. The adults didn't really like it at first, and my peers bullied the fuck out of me for it. But it almost became a challenge for me, how good could I get at "keeping track of time" as I call it.

Turns out pretty good.

Today when I woke up I was able to tell that I'd been asleep for exactly seven hours, three minutes and twenty four seconds, which is supposedly below average from what I read.

Later, when one of my classmates asked how long it would be until first period ended, before anyone could reply with the stupid boring "Soon" or "When the bell ring's" I blurted out "Twelve minutes and Fourty-eight seconds."

Believe it or not but I'm not trying to sound pretentious. When the concept of time becomes applicable my mouth works before my brain does. My class know the basics of my "Timekeeping Condition" as the adults call it. They know the units and how many are in what but... they don't get it get it.

Being able to "tell time" as the old humans put it is just part of who I am now... and it's weird. I know it is. I tried to stop once too but all it took was my friend joking about how he'd been alive forever and the words "Fifteen years, Eight months, One Week, Six Days, Thirty-two minutes, and Fourty-nine seconds," slipped out before I even had time to process I said them. That was One year, Eleven months, Three weeks, Two days, and exactly One hour ago.

Two day's, Eight hours, Fourty mintues and Two seconds later found me in the office of my local GP, but that moment with my friend was when I realised that it was going too far.

I'd only seen my friends birth certificate once, his family was super traditional and it was the only thing with a time in the house.

It was the first time I was ever scared of my ability to keep track of time.

It was like I'd been cursed with some sort of time related affliction, maybe it was the gods way of punishing the people of earth for forgetting that once so important measurement. That pillar of society that has been forgotten in the changing tides of history.

My parents certainly thought so, yelling at the doctor and Seven Hours, Thirteen minutes and Seven seconds later the Psychiatrist that the doctor referred me to. Pleading to find something to fix me, to save me from myself.

I felt like a madman that day.

I still have to have tests taken, scientists just love to try and figure out just how my brain got so damn good at this. How it's able to latch onto those specific numbers associated with time - my Math grades demonstrated it was just time - and keep track so perfectly that even years later I can tell people with complete accuracy the exact time and date they requested.

"When did the session start."

Fifteen minutes, Thirty seconds, and One Hundred and Eighty-Six milliseconds from now.

"How long has it been since you have last eaten."

Three hours, Twelve minutes, Seven seconds, Eight Hundred and Two milliseconds ago.

"What will the date be in 103... day's? is that the term you use for it?"

April the Third Thirty Twenty-one.

Every Two Weeks, since that fateful day they learned my little habit had taken over too much of me.

I felt like a lab rat... I was one.

I don't know what will happen to me come the inevitable summer holiday's. I'm seventeen now I know what will happen.

My parents never said a word about employment or further education. They talked about moving, about this nice little place I'd feel at home. They talked about a cage.

I have to go to school each day knowing I'm ticking closer to my last day free. I think my friend knows it too, he stopped asking me to play time keeper for me. He started asking me more questions of how it worked. He asked me to teach him how to tell time like I can.

I hate how much it means to me to actually have someone sitting with me every day whenever possible, listening intently as I'm able to explain in depth with an actual person, a friend, how I tell time.

Just Yesterday he was able to announce how much longer until the bell rang to signal the end of lunch. I hugged him for the rest of that time because it just felt so good to have someone else keep track of the time for a second I almost felt human. What my friend did was more than any of the whackjobs "monitoring" me ever thought to do.

He also came over to my house and discussed way's he could potentially become a full on Psychiatrist in the future, he had a whole path mapped out and everything. He definitely has the grades to do it.

He shouldn't be doing all this for me, I'm just too desperate to say no.

When in doubt, just keep the internal clock ticking Horace.

Just keep it ticking.

It’s the year 3020, and humans have achieved immortality through advanced technology. However, with the option of living forever, the concept of time has lost all meaning. Write a story about an average day in this new reality.

[moriiartist]

(CALL THE) NUMBER OF THE BEAST

Masterlist

Taglist

PAIRING: Demon!Tangotek x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: You thought it was a joke. A goof. A funny ‘ha-ha’ story to tell to your friends later- how you tried to summon a demon. However, things haven’t exactly gone to plan, and now you’re stuck trying to send a resident to hell back to where he belongs. Too bad that he’s decided that’s wherever you are.

WARNINGS: Language, body horror, demonic imagery, blood and injury, self-mutilation/self-harm (as part of a ritual), fire, implied/referenced murder

A/N: Hey there demon(s), it’s me, ya boi. I lowkey may have stayed up past midnight to get this out on time, but we’re not going to talk about that!!! I had a lot of fun with this fic, and I really think it shows. Enjoy!

The chalk slid smoothly over the kitchen tile, the soft, rasping sound that it elicited filling your ears. Dust as black as pitch already coated your palms, the pads of your fingers, your skin- smeared shapes like the handprints of an absent-minded artist.

An intricate pattern of concentric circles, squares, and lines spread like flowering nightshade from where you were, kneeling in the center. They, too, were as dark as if they had been burnt into the ceramic; the loose powder surrounding the thick, confident marks looked like ashes.

Sitting back on your heels, you inspected your work with a critical eye. A hundred bucks was a hundred bucks, and if you didn’t at least try one of the spells in the old, creepy grimoire you’d found in the attic, you weren’t getting a cent.

Actually, in that case, you’d be getting negative cents. 

You’d like to think that you were a reasonable, well-adjusted person. You’d finished college and gotten your degree, you worked a six hour shift at the local bookstore, and you put in an effort to keep in touch with your friends.

Which is why summoning a demon was somewhat uncharacteristic for you.

Your college roommate had invited you to hang out at their house last weekend, and of course, you’d accepted. They, a couple of their buddies they’d brought along, and you started drinking. You got buzzed. Then, naturally, you all started talking about random shit.

Of course, that random shit included all the weird and probably-cursed cult paraphernalia that had been left behind in the house that you’d moved into.

Your roommate had dared you, words almost slurred beyond comprehension, to try out one of the spells you’d found. At this point, you were nearing the point where you were starting to black out; your brain was starting to shut down, but your body got all ‘eye of the tiger’ and soldiered on.

So, like a dumbass, you agreed.

And bet one hundred dollars on it.

(To be fair, you never said you were smart. Just reasonable.)

You honestly felt quite silly standing there in the middle of your kitchen, staring down at the dark symbols you’d copied with a painstaking hand. Although you’d fully committed to winning this stupid bet after five days of twiddling your thumbs, you’d underestimated the amount of time it’d taken to get through the ritual. You’d started at around seven thirty, and it was now almost one.  

In your defense, the book wasn’t easy to read. Most of it was in some strange, latin-like script that hurt your eyes if you stared at it too long; words slithered across the paper like rattlesnakes if your gaze unfocused for even a moment.

Luckily for you, however, you had ignored the ominous thoughts in the back of your head that begged you to stop now before it was too late and managed to reach the final step in your handy dandy ‘how-to-summon-a-demon-for-dummies’ guide. Hooray!

All that was left was the sacrifice.

Stepping back, careful not the smudge the chalk lines that were already starting to flake from the combined force of the AC system and the vibrations of your footfalls, you crossed over the salt circle that enclosed the whole shabang.

Tea candles- those little ones that you buy in bulk to put in Jack O’ Lanterns- flickered ominously, crackling and spitting not dissimilarly from oil in a pan. You had dimmed all sources of light beyond those candles and the nightlights plugged into the wall, so the flames cast eerie, dancing shadows all over the room.

You grimaced, regarding the kitchen knife placed on the counter next to you. The blade gleamed red and gold, flashing as you delicately picked it up.

The sight of blood wasn’t new to you, nor did it freak you out, but drawing it from yourself was an entirely different matter from the times you’d fallen and scraped your knees as a kid. It was different when you were doing it- when you were drawing blood from yourself intentionally. It made something underneath your skin writhe with discomfort.

Steadying your grip as much as you could, and ignoring the slight tremor in your hand, you pressed the point of the knife to the meat of your thigh. You’d read somewhere that the fattier parts of the body the better regarding pain- and you weren’t about to stab yourself in the ass.

You gritted your teeth as you drew the blade across your skin. A part of you wanted to shut your eyes and look away, but the more logical side commanded you to pay attention despite the sharp, stinging pain. 

Despite the shallowness of the cut, it was already bleeding profusely. Rivulets of thick, coppery liquid already ran down your leg, dripping down onto the flat of your bare foot. In the low light, your blood almost looked as black as the chalk still coating your palms. The air filled with the faint scent of metal and salt. 

Hastily, you set the knife down with a clatter. Pressing your fingers to the wound, you hissed at the sparks of pain that erupted from the contact. Blood mixed with the powder on your hands, coagulating into a sludgey mess that clung to your skin.

You flicked some of the mixture off of your hands and into the circle, pursing your lips to soften your disgust. The book had never specified how much of your blood should be used, and although you really wanted to win the bet, you weren’t about to sacrifice a pint to a ritual that might not even work.

A mix between a groan and a gag tore itself from your throat as you pressed a palm flat to your wound, watching more blood begin to drip from the gaps in between your fingers. With your other hand, you reached blindly for the tape and gauze that you’d set aside specifically for this moment, tearing a thick wad of the stuff off with your teeth and messily taping it to your thigh.

It wasn’t really sanitary, but then again, it wasn’t as if anything else you were doing was.

Fumbling with the book, you winced as you smeared chalky blood over the pages- staining the fragile paper with black-grey-red fingerprints. You flipped through the pages somewhat frantically, muttering curses to yourself as pain once again twinged through your leg. After a tense moment, you exclaimed softly to yourself.

You’d highlighted the incantation to summon the demon, and the garish yellow-green pigment now glared up at you from the page. The book must’ve been made with parchment or something, because the color was soft and fragmented at the edges unlike the clean, hard cut of highlighter on printer paper.

Clearing your throat, you ignored the way the letters slipped in and out of focus, mirage-like, and began to read.

“Primo ad nonum daemones,” you incanted, nearly choking as the syllables ran like water from your mouth, “vocationem meam audite et attendite.”

Immediately, the guttering tea candles stilled. Every dancing flame went straight and tall, burning white-hot. The dimmed lights buzzed, and an electrical hum seemed to fill the air. Your stomach swooped- the same sensation that one would beget standing at a precipice. 

“ Sanguis meus gratis inferis datus est, et mihi paciscor.”

When did it get so cold? Your skin was chilled and damp with sweat, breath stuttering in your lungs from the shiver that wracked your body. The low hum that filled the back of your mind seemed to intensify. Static was all you could hear.

The voices whispering in your ear shrieked soundlessly, then disappeared.

“Caro mea velamen tollit, ossa mea signaculum portant, et anima- et anima mea ligat.”

Each word that escaped from your mouth burned your tongue like a firebrand, each more painful than the last. You felt like you were choking on your own blood as you spat out the last syllable, shuddering uncontrollably.

At some point, you had dropped the book. It was burning, delicate paper and dark leather cover flaking into ashes.

You couldn’t move, could hardly breathe; With each passing moment the pressure inside your chest increased, like someone had gripped your heart and decided to squeeze. Distantly, you recognized that your limbs were trembling.

“Quod fit non recipi.”

The lights cut out, and, like a great exhale of breath, the candles extinguished.

Shit.

For a few heartbeats, the only sound was your ragged breathing. Then, something shuffled in front of you. Something hard and sharp slid across the tile, sounding an awful lot like the knife still resting on the countertop. 

Freezing, you felt your heart began to beat faster, hammering at your ribcage. Even your chest stilled, and you swallowed thickly to suppress a whimper. It smelled like a nauseating mix of sulfur and your own blood.

“Well,” a masculine voice murmured, tone colored with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “It’s certainly been a long time since someone’s had the guts to summon me.”

In a blink, the lights were reignited. However, instead of the warm, yellow hues that you’d been familiar with your entire life, they were blue. The tall, still flames that rose from the candlewick looked like they’d been carved out of luminous blue ice, hardly seeming to move.

You’d be more awed by it if you weren’t distracted by the dark figure standing in the center of the ritual circle.

It wasn’t very big- only a few inches taller than you, if you had to guess, and shaped like a person; two legs, two arms, and a head attached to a torso. However, everything about it was off. 

It’s arms were too long, fingers tipped with glossy claws brushing the sides of its knees. It’s legs were longer at the ankle, forcing it to balance on its toes. It’s proportions were too different- like a poorly made puppet.

Every movement, from the tilt of its head to the roll of its shoulders was too smooth, too easy. Like there was no muscles, no internal structure to add resistance. You couldn’t contain your gasp as it’s neck made a horrendous, wet crack, spinning well past the limits of the human body to survey the room.

A long, black tail snaked out from behind it, pooling to the floor. Shards of what looked like volcanic glass were embedded in its forehead in the mockery of a crown, dripping with black and red blood. Similar pieces were buried in its spine and shoulders, bristling like spines.

“Shit,” you murmured.

With another snap, its head spun back around.

The demon’s face was pale, almost bloodless, and you could see the spiderweb of blue-black veins that ran below the surface. Pitch black holes were nested where its eyes should be, white, cat-like pupils narrowed in on your trembling figure. It grinned as you made eye contact, running a blue tongue over- what the hell, how many teeth does this guy have?!

If you squinted, it would almost look human. A spiky, aggressively emo human- but a human nonetheless. However, since you had somewhat of a sense of self-preservation, you weren’t doing that. No- you were wide-eyed and gaping, glued to the floor as you stared at the monstrosity before you.

“Excuse me,” it chirped, looking far too smug for its friendly tone to be genuine. “You summoned me, didn’t you?”

You blinked down at what remained of the grimoire. “... I guess.”

It grinned brilliantly, still with too many needle-like teeth. “Excellent!”

Then, it stepped over the salt circle. You hardly had time to squawk before it had seized your chin in its hands, turning your face this way and that as it inspected you. You would’ve pulled away, but the brush of the demon’s talons against the delicate skin of your throat was enough to have you falling still.

Every piece of media about demons you’d ever seen were different, but one thing seemed to largely hold the same: they couldn’t cross salt circles. It was one of the only effective ways to trap them, besides silver mirrors and maybe not summoning them in the first place- at least, according to what you’ve seen.

And then this asshole goes and dropkicks that knowledge into the fucking sun.

“Oooh,” it hummed, gaze calculating. “You’re a looker, aren’t you.”

It glanced down towards the hasty bandage job you’d done, a sly smile playing on its lips. It reached down, either oblivious to or ambivalent to your protests, and ran a finger through the still-drying blood.

Licking its hand clean, it’s pupils flared, growing to the size of nickels. “Tasty, too.”

Regaining your nerve, you shoved it away, stumbling back. It watched you go with an almost disappointed (?) expression, folding its arms across its chest. You finally stopped when your back hit a wall, refusing to take your gaze off the creature in front of you.

“... What the hell,” you managed to croak out. Was this shock? Were you going into shock?

The demon smirked. You were really starting to hate it when it did that.

“Indeed.”

Picking up the knife you’d set on the counter, it toyed with blade, whetting it against its talons. It paused, looking at it contemplatively, before rolling its eyes back to you.

“You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t a question.

Hesitantly, you nodded. While you were seriously regretting your decision to summon a demon of all things instead of, like, one of the easier spells, you didn’t see a point in lying to it about that. As far as you knew, magic wasn’t real up until two minutes ago.

The demon sighed. “Alrighty then. I thought you would be- it makes more sense.

“So, this is how this thing works. You ask for something- I don’t know, you want some guy who crossed you to mysteriously disappear, endless riches, fame and beauty- and I make it happen!”

It’s eyes gleamed red. “For a price, of course.”

Despite your fear, you deadpanned. The last thing you were doing was signing a deal with the devil. “No, thank you.”

“You don’t have a choice,” it countered. “You summoned me. I can’t return back to my realm until our, ah… business is complete.”

You threw your hands up. “Well, I’m not selling my soul or whatever else a creature of darkness would want!”

The demon pouted, looking almost offended for a moment. You didn’t trust it. “Hey- rude. Depending on the boon, I would only ask for, like, your childhood memories. Maybe your firstborn?”

“This is not helping your argument,” you sighed, glaring at it hollowly. It stared at you, grin melting until its expression was blank and unreadable. It’s tail lashed, slashing bluntly at the floor.

“If you don’t make a deal, I’m stuck here with you,” it cautioned once more.

You bared your teeth at it. “Fuck. You.”

It blinked, and for a moment you thought that this was it, you were going to die. Your last moments would be spent with a creature that wanted your soul for nefarious purposes, you would never get those hundred dollars-

The demon laughed, nearly doubling in on itself from the force. After a few seconds it looked back up at you, wiping a tear from its eye that sizzed as it hit the floor. In a blink, it was in front of you, staring at you with blown pupils. 

“You’re delightful,” it whispered, sounding awfully delighted itself. “This is going to be so much fun.”

You blanched as it took your hands in its own, flipping over one to press a sharp kiss to your inner wrist. The demon grinned up at you, sly.

“Good luck getting rid of me now, angel. I’ll have your soul whether you want me two or not.”

It stood up, lengthening the spine until it towered over you. Its pupils burned in the shadows cast across its face, exactly the same as the flames at its back.

“The name’s Tango, sweetheart. You won’t forget it.”

There’s no turning back now for you- you were his. Tango would make sure of it.

@blufr0st​ @itsonlydana​ @amearla​ @bapthadapper​ @redactedsouls​ @sina-the-idiot @icarusthefoolish @blockyshieldmaiden  

[pollyna]

Out of all the Dagger squadron Callie is the one who knows Admiral Kazansky the longer and, even before Top Gun, she was already eating at his table one every seven days. Just without Maverick around, even if she knew he was married. After every piece just fits where it should.

She was twenty-seven when an imposing dude, a Lieutenant Commander, asked her to be the attache during a conference with some Chinese delegation. Callie had accepted so fast she almost fell out of the chair for the enthusiasm and the Lieutenant had left her room laughing under his breath because oh this kid. In the end she had to do very little because Admiral Kazansky knew exactly what to say and how to say without her help, but he offered her a job because he knew her knowledge was going to be useful sooner than later. Callie had worked for two whole years with the man, in briefings, war rooms she theoretically wasn't supposed to be, over breakfast at the Admiral house with other ten people and over dinner in gala she hated but not how much the Admiral did. She worked for him and with him, learning as much as she could, translating during the Admiral's bad days when his fingers where as fast and hard as the things he would have liked to say but couldn't. When she got called in Top Gun, for the first time, she was barely thirty and the Admiral had hugged her and said you're for the skies not for boring politics. After it was a deployment after another, flying, flying and flying a little more, always to be the best alone and with her WSO.

The second time around Top Gun the Admiral wasn't around to say goodbye or to hug her but he sent a mail with enough big words in it to let Callie understand how important the mission was.

So, when at the end of it all, the squadron starts going around the Admiral, please Callie call me Tom or Iceman at which she answered just if you start calling me Halo Admiral, and the Captain's house she remembers where most things are and she starts making breakfast most of the mornings they stay over to sleep and Bradley himself looks a little lost the first time he has to find a cup in the immensity of the kitchen cupboard. Everybody looks at her like she grown a third head but Mav puts a photos of a younger Admiral and Halo in their whites, in front of the ONU's building. She was the second kid before every single on of you, Bradley excluded the Captain says a shirt two size to big over his pj's pants and Ice hugging his wrist. Fitz almost burns a stack of pancakes, Harvard's glass shatters on the ground and Phoenix murmurs to Bob holy shit I need that photo you see how cute Halo was.

That was a day Tom signs and Halo laughs because yes, yes that was a day she answers before going back to cutting the fruits and ignoring the one hundred questions they all have.

(The weirdest person to be around is Maverick, at the end of the day, because she knows the Admiral but his husband is the wild card. But, in the end, they bond over on too many breakfasts and all the crazy and wild things Tom did for Pete when he was searching for a present for his birthday.)

[jlhynde-insanitybrilliance]

By popular demand: This has now become a WIP!

I don’t have a title yet, but the working title is “Beware the Groundskeeper”. (Changed it from janitor cause I guess janitor aren’t a word in Britain??) Idk if I’ll keep that though might come up with something better. I got the 1st lil chunk done though, think of it like a summary!

Tom knew the first time he met Mr. Harry at eleven years old that he was full of shite.

It was September First, Nineteen-Thirty-Seven, when he was ushered off the Hogwarts Express at Hogsmeade station and lead to the boats at the Black Lake that would take them up to the school that he knew in his bones that there was something not right with the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. It was a gut feeling. Something primordial. A leftover and long forgotten survival instinct from some simian ancestor that told him not to trust that wide friendly smile or those vivid green eyes no matter how kind they first appeared.

The other children—simpletons all of them— had followed dumbly along putting their blind faith in the man. But not Tom. Oh no. He had lingered at the back of the procession as if he were trailing a funeral march; whilst the whole time eyeing the back of the man’s head. And when Mr. Harry had turned and instructed them to get into the boats, Tom had hesitated.

That had been his worst mistake. The unforgivable one. For if he had not hesitated, Tom might’ve passed by the man unnoticed. But it was that hesitation, that momentary paralysis, that fear which caught the attention of the Beast.

He remembers vividly how Mr. Harry’s head turned, a quick whip-snapping motion, and zeroed in on him lingering on shore. And to Tom’s credit, he didn’t cower when the groundskeeper approached him, crouching down so he could meet his eyeline, and offered to help him into the boat. Tom had rudely refused any assistance and clambered aboard himself in an attempt to put as much distance between them as possible.

It didn’t work because that had been the last boat. And Tom, stupidly, had been the last one aboard except for the groundskeeper. Mr. Harry had pushed them off and jumped in behind Tom, rocking them roughly as he settled down onto the last bench, humming a jaunty tune. He had made some crack about keeping all limbs and bodies inside the vessel or “the giant squid might eat ya, if the Merrows don’t getcha first.”

“Squoids don’t live in lakes,” Tom had scoffed, “Fey need soltwoter.”

“Geoffrey’s a special squid, ya’know. Bred him myself,” the groundskeeper retorted. “He doesn’t need soltwoter. He only needs the salt of childrens’ tears and a few blood sacrifices.”

“Wot?!”

“Relax, we only ever give him naughty children. I’m sure the lot of ya’ are perfect sweet angels—” The other children, a boy who ended up in Gyrffindor and two girls who went to Hufflepuff, had laughed. Like it was a joke. But Tom knew it was a warning. Pointed, in fact, pointed directly at him.

Had that Professor Dumblebore told him something about him? He suspected he had. And years later, Tom became sure of it. For why else would he pick him out of a hundred or so kids?

Mr. Harry didn’t end up feeding him to the squid, however, not even after what had happened with Myrtle Warren when it would’ve been arguably justified. Instead, from that moment on, Mr. Harry the groundskeeper had endeavored to make his life a living hell at every opportunity.

And he had continued for thirty years onwards.

Here’s another Tomarrymort fic prompt no one asked for:

Imagine a Professor Riddle/Voldemort AU in which MOD Harry is impersonating a squib working at Hogwarts (think Filch). & they meet when Tom is a 1st year & over time Tom becomes convinced that Harry is not a squib at all but some sort of immortal eldritch being impersonating a janitor. Because how tf has he not aged since he was a child? How does he seem to know everything about everyone? How does he keep messing up all his plans?!

I picture Harry having a similar vibe from the janitor from Scrubs. Just so casually putting a wrench in every one of Tom’s schemes just for shits and giggles. & Tom is just obsessed with him & proving that he’s not human dammit!

Professor Riddle (to Harry):

Harry (to Tom):

[fortheloveofwonderland]

90 Days | S.R (Part 1/12)

Not my gif.

Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - when you strike up a conversation with the brooding, handsome stranger at the bar, you had no idea it would lead to him spilling his guts to you.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - angst with happy ending, smut in a later chapter

Content Warnings - mentions of prison and prison arc, drinking, angsty Spencer, making out

Word Count - 6.2k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Request to be Tagged in Series

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One

Two months. Three weeks. Five days. Six hours.

It had been two months, three weeks, five days and six hours since he’d been out.

It had been one month, two weeks and one day since he’d been back at work.

It had been three hours and eleven minutes since he’d walked into this bar, his first since he’d been out.

And it had been seventeen minutes and nine seconds since he’d torn his eyes away from the clock on the wall above the bar or moved his body even an inch.

Spencer Reid had spent his whole thirty seven years quantifying his life into statistics and facts.

He was part of the thirty one percent of white males in the US.

He was in the nought point six percent of the population that worked for the federal government.

And as a provable genius with an IQ of one hundred and eighty seven he fell into two point five percent of the population.

Statistics were the only way Spencer knew how to make any sense of the world around him. If he understood the cold hard facts of a situation then he felt comfortable, in control even.

But then he’d spent three months, two weeks, five days and sixteen hours in that place, and suddenly statistics didn’t help him anymore.

It didn’t help him to know the number of prisoners being held in the US justice system. It didn’t aid his time in there to know how many of those prisoners committed suicide each year or the percentage of those who would reform once on the outside and those who would end up back in a cell.

He could recite the statistics on prison demographics; race, age, gender, even crimes committed in his sleep. But for the first time in his life, statistics hadn’t helped him.

The only thing that kept him focused, that helped keep his brain functioning, was to count down the minutes, hours, days, weeks and months he was in there.

A small piece of him slipped away each day, he had felt it. And two months later he still hadn’t managed to even begin putting those pieces back into place. He worried he never would. He was sure this was just the way things were now. The Spencer Reid that went in wasn’t the Spencer Reid that came out. He’d never be that man again, he was sure of it.

Nineteen minutes and twenty two seconds he kept counting down on the clock. The glass of whiskey sat between his hands on the bar, the ice long since melted.

It was his fifth of the night. Twenty seven sips had passed his lips and made their way down his throat. He thought he would have started to feel at least a little bit tipsy by now but he didn’t. He felt nothing but numb. The same as he’d felt since he’d been put inside.

***

You watched the man curiously over your glass. For almost twenty minutes he hadn’t moved a muscle. His back was rigid, his hands placed lightly on the bar either side of his drink. From where you sat she could see the side of his face and his eyes appeared to be trained somewhere above the bar.

He only blinked every few minutes. It was only because of this and because you could just make out the small movement of him breathing in and out that you knew he was human.

His phone had rung four times, you'd heard it across the bar but he hadn’t even seemed to register it.

The door of the bar opened and a small breeze blew through the bar and you watched his long, unruly hair shift ever so slightly.

You sipped your drink and tilted your head a little to the side whilst studying his profile. His nose was almost perfectly straight aside from a barely visible kink, his eyelashes were long and his lip was turned down.

You could tell he was tall by the way he had to curl his legs under the bar stool. One of the shoelaces on his battered black Converse high tops was undone. There were creases in the back of his pale pink shirt.

Another few minutes ticked by and he still didn’t move. You downed the remains of your drink and picked yourself up from her chair.

Your heeled boots clacked on the wooden floor as you made it to the bar, leaning on it and quickly getting the attention of one of the bar staff.

“Vodka soda please.” You placed your order.

You turned to your right. He was now within reaching distance. He still hadn’t moved an inch. You watched him until the bartender brought back your drink. You thanked him and paid.

You turned your body to face the man as you sipped your drink. Could he not even sense someone was in proximity?

You wanted to say something to him but you didn’t want to alarm him. This close you could make out his details better. His eyes that the long lashes surrounded were a deep hazel colour, rimmed with gold flecks and the skin underneath them was dark.

You could feel the weight he held now you were this close. There was a heavy aura surrounding him and his body reflected that in the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly.

Every few minutes his nostrils would flare. A couple of times he slowly licked his bottom lip. You wondered if he was conscious of the things he was doing or not.

You got almost halfway through your drink while you watched him. It had been going on a half hour now since he’d last moved. It was intriguing and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

“You know it’s rude to stare don’t you?” His words were quiet and his voice low and croaky. You almost spluttered on your drink when he spoke.

“I...well I uhm…” you fought for the right words. You didn’t think he had noticed your presence. “Do you move?” You found yourself asking.

A long thirty seconds passed. You thought that he wasn’t going to interact again and you almost turned and walked away. Until slowly he turned his head, blinking a few times as he did so.

Your eyes met for the first time and you noticed the full extent of the dark circles under his. His gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t look you over, just kept his eyes trained on yours.

“Better?” Without shifting his gaze he took his whiskey tumbler in his hand and brought it to his lips.

Twenty eight sips and he still felt nothing.

“I guess.” You shrugged. “Don’t think that I care, because I don’t. I was just...intrigued. I’ve never seen anyone so deep in thought before.”

“I wasn’t deep in thought.” he countered, his tone slightly pointed as though you'd made some outrageous accusation. “I was staring at the clock, focusing on the seconds ticking by and nothing else. Counting the seconds and minutes so I didn’t have to think.” Not that I owe you an explanation of my actions.”

Spencer sipped his drink again. Still nothing.

He was articulate and well spoken. He didn’t trip over his words, they seemed calculated. Not scripted but not off the cuff.

His phone rang again for the fifth time. He still didn’t take his eyes off yours.

“You gonna get that?” You spoke, feeling suddenly self conscious of your own verse.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” his eyes snatched away from you now and he turned back to the clock once more. This time he drummed his long slender fingers on the counter top of the bar.

Was that your queue to leave? He’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to talk to you and you shouldn’t care. You didn’t know him, it shouldn’t matter. But for some reason it did.

When most other people would have just walked away, you found yourself sliding into the bar stool next to the stranger.

His eyes were trained again on the clock and his hand that wasn’t drumming on the counter would periodically lift his glass to his lips so he could drink. You found the whole thing fascinating and if he still sensed you staring at him he didn’t say as much.

Several more minutes passed and his phone rang once more. This time you saw something flick momentarily in his eyes.

“Someone clearly wants to get hold of you.”

“JJ just wants to “check up” on me.” he muttered under his breath, using his fingers to air quote.

JJ. Girlfriend maybe? Why did he need checking up on?

“It’s nice to have someone to care.” You mentally scolded yourself at your words thinking you sounded very sorry for yourself. If he noticed he didn’t mention it.

“Hmmm.” was all he replied although it seemed more as though it was to himself than you.

He caught the attention of the bartender and with as few words as possible ordered his sixth drink.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” You added before the tender left.

“You’re not leaving are you?” he turned back to you again. This time he gave you a quick once over, but if you’d blinked you would have missed it.

He placed you in your late twenties to early thirties. Creative type he speculated due to the barely noticeable pencil smudge on the inside of your right index finger.

You were dressed nicely but not flashily in a pair of black tight fitting jeans, black heeled boots and dark green long sleeved blouse. You didn’t wear any jewellery aside from a pair of small silver hoops in your ears.

Your make-up was minimal, a little mascara and tinted lip gloss which was leaving marks on your glass as you drank. Your fingernails were trimmed short and your grey nail polish was chipped on almost every digit. It took him mere seconds to size you up.

“I mean, I can.” you shrugged, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m not going to force my witty conversation and dazzling personality on you.”

Over compensating he mused. You had deep seated insecurities. You really thought you were far from witty and dazzling he could tell in an instant. It was his job to see these things.

Your drinks were brought back over and he told the man to put them both on his tab. You didn’t argue, you just frowned at him.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s seven dollars, it’s not exactly going to break the bank.” He shrugged.

“Is this so I’ll go away?” you scrutinised him.

He let out a cold, dry laugh.

“I honestly don’t care what you do. Stay. Go. It’s all the same to me.” He leant his elbows on the bar and ran his fingers through his scruffy locks.

Most people would have left. Most people would have sensed he was in no mood for company and left him to him. And although you sensed that, you didn’t move.

“What did you mean when you said you were staring at the clock so you didn’t have to think?”

Spencer groaned audibly.

“You know what? Maybe you should go.” He turned to you again.

“I’m Y/N.” You held your free hand out. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

You watched him study your hand with a frown.

“Ok.” he replied.

“And you are?” you retracted your hand realising he wasn’t going to shake.

“Frustrated. Fed up. Irritated.”

“Why are you making this so hard?” you laughed. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Why?” his eyes narrowed on you. His question threw you.

“Uhm...I don’t know.” you answered honestly. “Guess I’m just a friendly kind of person.”

You were lying, he could see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. You didn’t make a habit of doing this which led him to wonder why you were bothering now. Why with him?

From the look on your soft features he could tell why. You had been him, you had been in his shoes. You’d been the depressed one at the bar and wanted nothing more than someone, anyone, just one person to sense you were struggling. You’d seen that in him and you’d decided to try and be that person for him.

Maybe he should cut you some slack. Maybe, but he was in no mood to be friendly.

“Would you not consider that a man is sitting alone at a bar because he’s waiting for someone?”

“Plausible.” you shrugged. “But you’re not. If you were waiting for someone you would have answered your phone when it rang because it could have been them telling you they were running late or couldn’t make it. Instead you ignored it. You ignored it because you wanted to be alone.”

You sounded like a profiler. That was his job.

“So you see a man at a bar who you can tell wants to be alone. Yet you still invite yourself over, sit down and continue to try and make conversation when you know he wants to be left alone.”

“I haven’t done anything to you.” you said as though you hadn’t even heard what he’d said. “You may be angry at the world but there’s no need to take it out on me, someone you don’t even know.” you stood now, smoothing down your blouse with your free hand. You reached in your purse, pulled out a ten dollar bill and tossed it on the bar. “I was just trying to be friendly but screw it. Have a good night. Enjoy your teenage angst episode or whatever this is.” you shook your head, turned on your heels and stormed away.

Spencer sighed to himself. You were right and he felt bad. He didn’t need to take his anger and frustrations out on you. You had been nothing but nice and he’d been a complete asshole.

What ensued for the next few minutes was an internal debate in his brain. On one hand he wanted to be alone, left to wallow in his own misery over a few glasses of top shelf whiskey.

But on the other hand he felt guilty for how he had treated you. He didn’t owe you anything and he was sure he would never see you again, not in a city the size of DC. But you had seemed sweet and he’d been uncharacteristically mean to you. Or maybe it was in character now? Maybe it was one of the pieces he had lost when he was inside, his compassion.

He’d shut everyone out. He put on a brave face and told everyone he was ok but that didn’t stop them looking at him like he was a victim; like he was broken. He would never admit to them how he was really feeling.

He got up every day, went into work and just got on with things the best he could. When people asked he said he was fine.

When Prentiss offered him more time off when he’d freaked out on a case a few weeks after being back he told her that he was fine and it was just a slip.

When JJ asked if he wanted to come to dinner with her and Will he declined every time stating he was tired.

When the team gathered at Rossi’s for a dinner party he had told them he had other plans.

Every time Garcia looked at him softly and asked “how are you doing, like really doing?” he would tell her was fine, really fine and that he didn’t need her worrying about him.

It was exhausting. He’d spent two months, three weeks, five days and close to seven hours lying to the people closest to him and it was completely and utterly draining.

His actions had been so far from the Spencer Reid he knew in that time he barely recognised himself when he looked in the mirror these days.

Maybe it would be nice to talk to someone who didn’t know he was entirely broken. Maybe it would be nice for someone to look at him with something other than pity in their eyes for a change. Maybe spending the night speaking to someone who didn’t know about his past would help him feel, even if only momentarily, normal?

The war inside him ended and he sighed. He quickly gulped down the whiskey, ordered two more and stood up. His legs were wobbly as he stood and he could feel the pins and needles kicking in from where he hadn’t moved in so long.

He picked up his brown leather messenger bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. He grabbed the drinks and on shaky legs started over to the booth in the corner of the bar.

You were looking at your phone in your hand as he approached but he could tell you sensed a presence. You locked the screen before looking up at him, your large eyes full of frustration that was directed right at him.

“Spencer. Spencer Reid. Most people just call me Reid.” he hovered next to the table.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the two glasses in his hands.

“A peace offering of sorts. The extending of an olive branch.” he waited for you to speak.

He gnawed on his bottom lip while you decided on your next move. Were you going to be the bigger person and invite him to sit down? Or would you return his iciness and send him packing?

You seemed to mull this over for a little while before you leant back in your chair.

“I suppose you better sit down then Reid.”

He gave you a slightly lopsided half-smile and slid into the other side of the booth. He placed the drinks on the table and slid one closer to you.

Silence followed, a kind that was almost deafening. He hadn’t thought of what he might say to you and social situations had never been his foray, even before everything that happened.

“You’re letting them win.” You finally spoke, taking a sip of your drink.

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.

“Who?”

“The demons in your head. You’re letting them win.” you smiled sardonically around your glass.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the statement. It was nice to laugh for a change, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that and meant it.

“I don’t know how not to.” he confessed, surprising himself with his honesty.

“Staring at clocks just so you won’t think doesn’t help. Sometimes, as scary as it is, we have to face those demons head on. Or they’ll just keep winning.”

“Statistically I only have a forty four percent chance of recovery.”

You narrowed your eyes on him, leaning forward on the table as though that would help you read him.

“Recovery from what?” your voice was riddled with concern which he found strange considering he was a stranger to you.

His heart pounded in his chest as he thought about the words, the diagnosis. It felt more like a heavy weight that hung around his neck, weighing him down more with each passing day.

“Post traumatic stress disorder. PTSD.”

Alvez had told him it was a syndrome and not a disorder because a disorder implied it couldn’t be cured. But Spencer wasn’t sure it could.

“Oh.” you played with a strand of your hair clearly at a loss for words for the first time since he’d met you.

Did you dare ask why? How? What had happened to him? That seemed too invasive even for you.

“That sucks.” you said instead.

Spencer found himself laughing again.

“Yes it certainly does.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I feel like I’ve done nothing but talk about it for months. I’m kind of sick of hearing other people’s opinions on the matter.” He played with his hands on the table.

“No opinions or judgement here.” you held your hands up. “I don’t know you, I’m just here to lend an unbiased ear if you wish to unburden yourself.”

“Why?” His back went up again. “Why would you do that? You don’t know me. Why do you care?”

“I know what it’s like to live with demons. Hell mine have practically redecorated at this point. I could tell something was bothering you when I saw you across the bar and I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to. But hey, I don’t care either way.” you sat back and sipped your whiskey.

Spencer sighed heavily, almost as if he’d been holding it in for months and you saw him physically deflate. It would be easy to say nothing. He didn’t owe you anything. But he found himself speaking words he never thought he’d hear himself say again out loud.

“I was arrested in Mexico for drug possession. Then while I was in custody I was accused of murder. I spent over three months in a correctional facility.” three months, two weeks, five days and sixteen hours.

Your facial expression faltered but not as much as he’d expected. Your eyes widened slightly and your brow furrowed but he’d expected more of a reaction from his confession.

“Shit.” you sipped your drink. “That’s dark.”

And once again Spencer couldn’t contain his laughter.

“Yeah.” He laughed. “It’s pretty dark.”

“What happened? I mean...how I guess.”

Once again Spencer contemplated his next words. He could have told you didn’t want to discuss it further. He could have even just given you the vague, abridged version. But there was something in your eyes that told Spencer you really cared, for what reason he wasn’t sure.

He felt like he could talk to you without fear of judgement or repercussion. And so he found himself telling you, a complete stranger, everything.

He started by telling you he’d seen some things in his years with the BAU but nothing like this.

He told you about his mother and her schizophrenia and dementia and the fact he was in Mexico to get her medication.

He told you about his arrest, what he remembered of it due to being drugged. He told you about Nadie Ramos and the motel room.

He told you about his team coming to Mexico and getting him transferred to the Milburn Correctional Facility in the states. He told you about his numerous cognatives with Tara.

He went into great detail about how bad prison food was, how much handcuffs hurt but that they didn’t hurt anywhere near as bad as the beatings he’d endured. He told you how hard it was to pretend not to be an FBI agent when that’s all he’d ever really known. He told you of how he counted down the time on his cell walls.

He filled you in on Mr Scratch, Lindsey Vaughn and Cat Addams. He spoke of dancing in a prison interview room of a women’s correctional facility with the woman who put him behind bars, a pregnancy scare and crooked guards.

He told you everything. Every tiny detail from his arrest to release. Every sorry detail his eidetic memory forced him to never forget.

And you sat there patiently and listened to every single word out of his lips. Your gaze didn’t falter from his. You didn’t look bored or get distracted when someone entered the bar. You didn’t try and order another drink when your glass was empty. You didn’t even so much as glance at your phone a couple of times when messages popped up.

You nodded where appropriate. You offered the odd “yeah” or “oh god” when it seemed like it was required. As promised, you didn’t offer an opinion or judgement. You stayed silent and simply listened. Spencer wasn’t sure he’d ever really been listened to quite like this. Not even by professional therapists he’d paid to listen to him.

Almost an hour passed before he sighed loudly, leant on the table and ran his fingers through his hair.

“So that’s what happened.” He felt mentally drained. He was looking down at the table when he felt a soft, warm hand on his wrist.

“Jesus.” you breathed. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” He looked back up at you. Your eyes met in a kind of mutual understanding and you nodded. You removed your hand from his arm and flagged down a bartender.

“Two more. Better make them doubles.” you instructed the young man.

“You don’t know me.” Spencer sighed as he spoke. “Why did you just spend…” he glanced at his watch before continuing. “Fifty four minutes and eleven seconds listening to me?”

You suppressed a smile at his recital of the exact time he’d been talking.

“Because you looked like you needed to get it off your chest.” you shrugged. “Tell me you don’t feel at least a little lighter after that? A little less burdened.”

You were right. For the first time in months the weight of what he had been through lightened a little. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah I guess I do.”

The bartender brought your drinks over and you handed him a twenty from your purse.

“But that still doesn’t answer why. What kind of person listens to a complete stranger's ramblings of arrests and drugs and con women?”

You laughed a little as you sipped your drink.

“I’ve had my share of darkness.” Something flickered in your eyes as you said this.

“A man.” Spencer mused out loud. “Not a father. Not a brother. Not a husband but a partner.”

“How would you possibly know that?” you raised your eyebrow inquisitively.

“I forgot to mention what it is I do for the FBI.” He smirked. “I’m a profiler.”

“Now that I didn’t see coming.” you chewed your lip. “Ok agent Reid, humour me. Tell me the facts to back up your theory.”

“Actually it’s Doctor Reid.” He sipped his drink with a wry smile. “And ok, I’ll bite.”

He put the drink down and leant closer to you, staring you right in the eyes. You felt as though he was looking straight into your soul and it made you nervous.

“For starters the obvious, you aren’t married because you don’t wear a ring. There’s no indentation or tan line on your ring finger so you’re not recently separated either.” He paused to gauge how he was doing so far.

You gave him a small nod of acknowledgment and urged him to continue.

“I know you watched me for a long time while I was sitting at the bar, I have fantastic peripheral vision so I could see you the whole time. I also noticed you earlier and your eyes always trained on the door when a man walked in, your gaze lingered if he was attractive so from that I garner you’re single.” He paused again.

Again you didn’t speak, neither to confirm or deny his words.

So Spencer continued.

“One of those men made eye contact with you. He even smiled at you but you simply looked away. I think that’s because you're single but not looking. I can also tell that by the way you’re dressed conservatively, covering your body from prying eyes. You’re not looking because you’ve been hurt, so badly that you don’t trust men.

I can tell by the way you are with me. You’re friendly but not flirtatiously so. You speak to me the way you would a distant cousin or old college friend you haven’t seen for years. You’re wary of me and you keep a safe distance. When you put your hand on my arm earlier the rest of your body tensed as you did so. When I speak about women your demeanour doesn’t change but when I mentioned the male members of my team you tightened. I noticed it specifically when I talked about the prison guard getting Cat pregnant.

The abuse of power is what got to you. Your whole stance changed, ever so slightly. Don’t get me wrong you have an excellent poker face and if I weren’t a profiler I wouldn’t have picked up on any of it. But those are the facts that back up my theory.” He sat back and rewarded himself with a sip of whiskey.

“You think you’re so good don’t you?” you mirrored him and sipped your drink also.

“I don’t think I’m good.” He shrugged.

“Cockiness doesn’t suit you Doctor Reid.”

“Knowing I’m good at my job doesn’t make me cocky.”

Suddenly you looked up at the clock on the wall.

“It’s getting late.” you informed yourself more than Spencer. You picked up your drink and finished it.

Spencer looked at his watch. You were right, it was nearing midnight. He had work in a few hours, so he should try and sleep off this whiskey before then.

He nodded and finished his drink as well. You both put on your jackets, yours a tight fitting leather number and his a long brown overcoat.

You waited for him while he paid his tab and you left together into the blustery autumn night.

Once on the street you turned to look at him.

“You live close by?”

“Not too close. I’ll probably get a cab.” He told you thinking it would be too late to jump on the metro.

“Ok.” you nodded. “Well I’m a few blocks that way.” you pointed behind you. “So I’m going to walk. Nice meeting you.”

You turned your back to him and started walking away. You made it nine steps before Spencer spoke again.

“I’ll walk you.” He quickly caught up with you.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“When you’ve seen what I’ve seen on these streets, I do.” He gave you a sad smile. Perks of the job. “And besides, I owe you for listening to me all night.”

You waved a hand as if to say it didn’t matter but you allowed him to walk with you.

You walked in silence, mostly talked out by this point.

It only took a few minutes for you to reach your apartment building. Spencer followed you into the lobby.

“Uhm...do you want to come up for a night cap?” you sounded more like you were asking out of politeness than actually wanting him to.

And Spencer had work so he should go home and try to feign sleep. Yet before he knew what had come over him, he was nodding.

“Ok.” He agreed.

You mentally thought back to the state of your apartment when you left for the evening. Was it as messy as you remembered? You guessed it was too late now.

You called the elevator and seconds later the doors creaked open and you both stepped inside. You pressed the button for the twelfth floor.

You stood on opposite sides of the elevator looking straight ahead.

You didn’t know why you had invited him up other than because you’d really enjoyed his company tonight even under the circumstances. You weren’t quite ready to go your separate ways.

But what happened once you were inside your apartment? You were definitely attracted to him but you couldn’t read him. And you were sure after all he’d talked about tonight, intimacy was the furthest thing from his mind.

But, he’d agreed to come upstairs which had to mean something, right? Maybe a one night stand was what he’d been after all along, it might help him take his mind off everything.

As the elevator slowly made its ascent you turned to look at him. As soon as he saw you looking at him, he met your gaze.

You kept your eyes on one another for several long seconds before you sighed. What did you have to lose?

“Screw it.” you muttered as you advanced.

Spencer caught you in his arms as you collided with him, your lips finding his in an instant.

For a moment Spencer just stood allowing you to kiss him without moving. He hadn’t seen this coming at all.

Of course you were beautiful, sweet and kind but he never had been the kind of man that had these intentions.

Yet he couldn’t himself. After a few seconds he loosened up and parted his lips to allow your tongue access. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, one hand on the small of your back and the other gripping the back of your neck.

You snaked your arms around his neck and held him close to you. You had to tiptoe to be able to kiss him.

The elevator dinged and the doors creaked open but the kiss didn’t break. You moved your hands from his neck to the collar of his coat and began pulling him towards the open door.

He followed you down the corridor, the kiss deepening all the while. When you reached your door the kiss broke and you were both gasping for air.

He was aroused, he couldn’t help himself. It had been a long time since a woman had kissed him in that way, especially one so beautiful. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

You smiled as you took in his flushed cheeks. At least you hadn’t completely misread the situation. You pulled your keys from your purse and slipped it in the lock but before you unlocked the door he spoke.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was low and almost shy. You turned back to face him with a slight frown.

“What?” you asked although you knew what he meant.

“This.” He pointed between you. “It isn’t...this isn’t me.” He took a small step backwards. “I’m not this kind of man.”

At least he hadn’t been before he went to prison. Maybe he was this kind of man now?

“What kind of man?” you frowned in confusion.

Spencer gnawed his bottom lip and used his hand to sweep his hair back off his face.

“I’m not a making out in elevators, going home with a woman I just met kind of man. I’m not the kind of man that does this. Sex is a big deal to me.” He blushed at his words feeling slightly pathetic.

“It’s ok.” you surprised him when you smiled. “I kind of admire that.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” you laughed. “I get it, Reid I do. And as much as I would love you to come into my apartment right now, the last thing I ever wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” He shook his head. “This actually turned out to be one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. Thank you Y/N. For everything.”

Your smile grew and you stepped closer to him. You got on your tiptoes and placed the gentlest of kisses on his stubbly cheek.

“You’re so very welcome Reid.”

He blushed again, loving the way his name sounded on your lips.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Y/N Y/L/N.” He thought about asking for your number but he knew that would be a bad idea.

He’d been attracted to you from the moment he first saw you but now you had shared that kiss he wanted you more than he’d ever wanted another person in his life. But he was a mess right now. His whole world had been turned on its head and the last thing he wanted was to drag someone else into that mess. Least of all you, the incredible woman standing in front of him.

“The pleasure was all mine, Doctor Spencer Reid.” your smile now seemed a little shy as you gave him a small wave.

He watched you turn back to your door and unlock it. You stepped inside the apartment and you shared one last look.

He returned your wave and then you closed the door and were gone.

Spencer exhaled heavily, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

He mentally berated himself the whole way back down in the elevator. Sex is a big deal to me, his words kept playing over in his head. What must she think of me?

He was sure he’d be the number one topic of gossip for you and your friends for weeks to come. The poor, pathetic profiler spilling his darkest secrets to you in the bar and then turning down a night of fun and passion.

Not all things changed he supposed. He hadn’t been the one night stand kind of man before he went into prison and clearly he still wasn’t.

He got out onto the street and quickly hailed a cab and gave the driver his address. He closed his eyes and leant his head back against the headrest.

A part of him wished he was that man, right now especially. He wished he could be more like Derek Morgan or Luke Alvez. He pictured what could have awaited him on the other side of your door.

He imagined touching every inch of your soft skin, running his fingers through your locks and kissing you until both of your lips were numb.

He imagined you panting his name and how magical it would sound. He pictured wrapping his body tightly around yours, every inch of your bodies melding together.

He imagined watching your beautiful soft features as you fell asleep, stroking your hair back and placing gentle kisses on your neck.

By the time he made it home and paid the driver he was aroused again and for the first time in two months, three weeks, five days, eight hours and thirty seven minutes, he wasn’t thinking about prison.

He was thinking about you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist -

All ships & genres -

@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @spencers-dria @sexy-dumpster-fire

SR x reader -

@frickin-bats @dreatine @adoringanakin @dr-spencerr-reidd @sleepretreat @spenxerslut @sweetandsunny @bellaswanismysoulmate @mcumorningstar @dontcallmekittens @kuolonsyoja @radtwinkie @drayshadow @lytrc

@nani-2305 @rainsong01 @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora @pastelbabygirl19 @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #7 - Revels

Word Count: 2921

Warnings: Cursing, That’s All, it’s a Really Tame One Shot

Setting/Characters: Party Scene in Avengers: Age of Ultron; Lots of Characters so I’m Not Gonna Name Them All

A/N: I know…it’s very late. I wanted to have it out on Friday, but I dunno, guys. My motivation as of late has been very low. I finally decided to just sit down and write tonight. So here it finally is!

This one is pretty mild compared to others. There’s a few feeling things in here, but it’s mainly just the reader hanging out with the team. The ending’s written a bit weird, but I didn’t know what to cut it off because the writers did a nice job of making the Mjolnir scene flow into the scene with Ultron’s appearance, but I didn’t want to write the whole fight with Ultron, I just wanted the lifting scene.

Listen here, though! Prepare yourselves to be conflicted even more with Steve! I made it a lot more…touchy than I was planning on. Don’t come at me! It needs to be done! This’ll be one of the last ones focused on Steve like that though. The next one is reader and Wanda bonding and then after that I don’t have any more planned for AoU, so we’ll be going to Civil War, which is where reader meets Bucky officially. So Bucky’s coming soon!

I’m gonna update my WIP List and - maybe - my One Shot list and post those later, along with a poll because I dunno which series I wanna start on next.

Thank you all so much for your patience, understanding, and support! As always, not beta’d, so please excuse the mistakes, all are mine! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Series Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

*******

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You set your bag down and looked at your phone, vibrating from where you just left it on the counter. You looked at the time and squinted. Seven. You supposed it wasn’t too late, but you weren’t expecting any calls. 

Tired, your feet dragged as you moved across the room to get your phone. You were helping Fury set up the Helicarrier again while still remaining “dead” to everyone. It was the last thing you were doing before joining the Avengers full time. You were a bit hesitant to be in the spotlight after all these years, but after much pressuring from your team, especially a certain blonde, you finally caved. It was time for a change anyways. It might even be good for you.

Speaking of blondes, Bubba flashed across your screen, a picture of him with some scruff that you took one day in spite of his protests because you’d never seen him with a beard before lighting up behind the contact name.

You answered it, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hands as you did so. “Hi, bubs. What’s-”

“Where are you? I miss you. Are you coming soon?”

You chuckled at his whines, an eyebrow raising as you processed his words. “Whaddya mean? I’m at my place. Where am I supposed to be?”

“Honey!” You giggled at his groan, finding it amusing how childish he could be at times. “The party? Tonight? Remember? You promised you’d come. I don’t wanna be here without you.”

“Oh shit,” you hiss out. “That’s tonight?” Moving across the kitchen to check your calendar, you scrunch up your face when you see ‘Avenger’s Tower 6 pm’ written in the square. “It’s Saturday. Aw, Stevie. I totally forgot.”

“Oh. So…are you - are you not coming, then?”

Frowning at his fallen tone, you shake your head. “I’ll be there. Just…give me a bit.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You sound tired. You don’t have to-”

“I’m on my way, Steve. I did promise after all. I’m an hour out.”

You could hear his surprise in his voice. “An hour? You’re not in D.C.?”

“I’m a little bit upstate. Just in a safehouse while I help Fury work on something.”

He let out a contemplative hum from the other side of the line. “That secret project you still won’t tell me anything about?”

A smile appeared across your lips as you walked to the bedroom to change into something a little more appropriate, settling for a comfortable romper instead of dealing with a dress. “You know I can’t, bubs. You haven’t told anyone, right?”

“No ma’am.”

You giggle softly. “Alright. Thank you. You’ll find out soon, probably. It’s almost done. Promise.”

“Then you’ll come live here? With me - the team, I mean? I miss you. The team missed you. On the raid.”

“Oh yeah. How was it?”

“Get here and I’ll tell you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m coming, I’m coming. See you then, bubba.”

“Okay, honey. See ya then.”

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

It was nearly nine when you got to the Tower, but any party thrown by Stark didn’t end until at least ten, so you knew you were fine. Just…fashionably late. A concept you knew Tony understood and you wouldn’t hesitate to remind him if he brought it up.

You were pleasantly surprised by how tame the party was. Sure there were a hundred people you doubted even Tony knew, but no flashing lights, the music wasn’t blaring, and no one was grinding on anyone. Everyone was just talking, drinking, and having a good time.

“Hey! There you are! Capsicle said he called you, but that was hours ago!”

Speak of the devil. You grinned and let Tony pull you into a hug before taking the drink he offered. “Yeah, well, I had a few things to do today.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “A few things, huh? Anything I should know about?”

“Nope!” You popped your lips and gave him a smirk. “Not everything’s about you, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, well, we missed you this week. Fun raid.” He looked you up and down and nodded, gesturing to your outfit. “Alright, you know what? I accept this. This is okay. Not what I had in mind, but you pull it off.”

You laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “It’s comfortable, okay? Where’s Steve?”

The billionaire rolled his eyes and gave you a look. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. He’s over playing pool with Wilson. C’mon! I wanna get you drunk and complain about my perfect, heroic, billionaire life to my favorite teammate!”

“I just need to tell him I’m here.” You snicker. “And don’t let anyone here you say that. I don’t want my rep to become Tony’s favorite.”

He chuckled with you and gave you another squeeze. “Alright, alright. Come find me later, though. I do have something I need to show you.”

You shook your head, already knowing where the conversation was heading. “Tony! No! I don’t need a suit! Thank you, I appreciate it, but I’m really okay. I like fighting in sweatpants.”

“Fine!” He huffed out. “But at least let me show you some designs I came up with. I put a lot of hard work into them, you know.”

Tapping his chest, you nodded. “I’m sure you did. I’ll come find you and you can show me, but that’s it.”

He smirked, drawing an ‘x’ over his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart.”

“I’m serious, Tony!” You point at him as he started walking away. He just blew a kiss towards you, making you laugh and roll your eyes again.

Turning, you scanned the room for the pool table where, supposedly, Steve was playing with Sam, who you had no idea was gonna be here. You’d been helping him out with the whole James - Bucky, you reminded yourself - Barnes thing during your free time. No such luck yet. The man was literally a ghost, even for you.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your lips when you finally caught sight of him, his brown leather jacket hugging his shoulders a grin on his face as Sam talked to him about something. Quickly making your way over, your arms wrapped around that ridiculously tiny waist, crossing over his stomach. You felt him tense at the sudden contact, before he relaxed at a kiss to the nape of his neck and spun around.

The beam he gave you made your heart flip, his muscled arms winding around your neck. “Y/N! You made it!”

His boyish excitement made you laugh. “I told you I’d come. Hi, Sam.”

Sam nodded and waved. “What’s good, Y/N?”

“Who’s winning?” Slipping out of Steve’s hold, you leaned over the table to study the games process.

“We just started a new one.” Steve informed you. “Wanna join?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure you wanna be embarrassed in front of all these nice people?”

“Oooh!” Sam winced. “Smack! Alright. Put your money where your mouth is, Y/L/N. Ten bucks says I win.”

“You’re on, Wilson.”

A few more drinks, a couple games, and thirty extra bucks later, Tony called you over impatiently. Steve gave you a questioning look as you heated up, Tony waving his arms dramatically and shouting your name. God, he’s so embarrassing.

“He wants me to look at suit designs.”

Steve frowned at your explanation. “I thought you told him no?”

You chuckled. “I did. I’ll be right back, bubs.” After kissing his cheek, you head over to Tony. From there, you end up bouncing around from teammate to teammate, laughing and joking around with them.

Until Steve dragged you back with him again. “Excuse me.” He interrupted you, Clint, and Natasha’s chatter, grabbing your elbow and taking the drink you had in your hand. “I’m stealing you.”

“C’mon, man! It’s called sharing!”

Natasha laughed and nodded in agreement with Clint’s statement. “Everyone’s gotta have a turn, Rogers.”

Steve hummed, walking backwards and pulling you as you giggled in amusement. “You just had your turn, Romanoff.”

“Sorry guys.” You shrugged when the two looked at you incredulously. “Captain’s orders.”

“Damn right.” Steve nodded firmly.

“Watch your language!” Clint shouted with a pointed finger.

You raised an amused eyebrow at Steve’s groan. “Your language? They do know that you have, quite possibly, the worst mouth on the planet, right?”

He sighed, pulling you to the side of the room and wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s something that happened on the mission. Which you would know if you were there.”

“Steven.”

He blinked innocently at you. “What?” At your pointed look, he let out a sigh, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re avoiding me?”

“Who said I’m avoiding you?”

“C’mon, honey.” He lifted his head, his eyebrows furrowed together. “Don’t hurt me even more. I know you have.”

You shook your head, lips turning down and hand raising to cup his cheek. “Stevie, I’m not. I promise. I’ve just…I’ve just been busy.”

He pouted. “With Fury?”

Giving him a weird look you shook your head. “No. I mean, yes, but I’ve also been helping Sam out with your friend while you help the team with the rest of the HYDRA bases. You know that. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, ducking his head to your shoulder again. “I’ve just missed you.”

“I know, bubba. I’ve missed you too.”

The real truth was you had been avoiding him. Not on purpose. Kinda. You just felt something different around him. Something you’d never dealt with before. And you didn’t want to deal with it now, so you haven’t been. It was why you were so hesitant about becoming a full time Avenger. Well, that and the fact that you’d been in the shadows for a decade and you weren’t sure how well you’d do in the light.

“Where’s Sam?”

“He had to head home. Long drive. His excuse, not mine.”

You gasped in offense. “And he didn’t even say bye?! Rude!”

Steve chuckled, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat, breath tickling your collarbone. “I’m sure he’ll call you in the morning or something. Apologize for leaving so abruptly.”

You hummed, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in your throat. “Tell me about the language thing. What happened?”

He groaned, but straightened and told you about him accidentally scolding Tony, before he proceeded to tell you about the rest of the mission, including the Maximoff twins. 

“Why is it that war always seems to breed more war?” You asked with a sigh.

“They’re just kids trying to do what’s right.”

“We all start out that way, don’t we?” You shook your head. Kids. they shouldn’t be fighting in a war. They shouldn’t have to deal with that. “It’s just a shame.” Your voice is muffled by his shirt after you pressed against his chest.

“Yeah.” He sighed out. “Wanna go get a drink?”

Pulling back from him and looking around, you noted that most guests had already gone and it was dwindling down to just the Avengers and a couple allies. “Yeah. Wanna sit down too. I’m kinda tired.”

“Alright, honey. Let’s go sit down.”

It wasn’t even half an hour later when you were all sitting around the middle of the room, everyone else having gone, but Dr. Helen Cho, Rhodey, Maria, and the team. You were in the same boat as Helen, who was basically passed out on an armchair. You’re legs thrown over Steve’s lap, stretched out to let your feet rest on Thor’s thigh, who was on the chair on the other side of the captain. You were hugging Steve’s arm, your head resting against his shoulder, a small smile of content across your features as you listened to the team banter and tease.

You started laughing at Clint’s comments towards Thor’s hammer while spinning the drumstick he had for whatever reason. “Ah, whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power! Whatever, man! It’s a trick!”

You and Steve exchanged amused grins as Thor challenged Clint, who stood up with no hesitation and headed to the hammer.

“This is gonna be good.” You chirped, taking the bottle Steve handed you as the archer stopped in front of where it was placed on the table.

Clint stuck his tongue out at you, before turning back to Thor and gripping the handle. He tugged for a moment, grunting, before laughing in slight embarrassment. Chuckling, you snuggled closer to Steve’s side, your eyes feeling heavy. He turned his head to nose your temple and kiss your cheek.

“Oh brother.” You giggled, sitting up with interest as Tony stood up and unbuttoned his suit jacket.

“Alright, so if I lift it, I-I then rule Asgard?” Tony asked in clarification, slipping his hand through the strap.

“Yes, of course.” Thor confirmed with an amused smirk, shooting you a wink when you nudged his knee with your foot.

Tony braced himself, setting his foot on the table. “I will be reinstituting prima nocta.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Oh God, Tony.” Steve squeezed your knee with a slight chuckle as the billionaire tried lifting it to no avail. You gave him a weird look, watching him leave the room, before turning to Steve. “What’s he-?”

“Alright! Let’s try this again!”

Another fit of laughter left you and the team when Tony strutted back in with his Iron Man glove on. And when that didn’t work, Rhodey joined him with his War Machine glove. 

Your eyes were watering and you tried holding in your laughter, but you couldn’t help it, pressing your face into Steve’s arm to muffle the sounds. You felt his shoulders shake with silent chuckles, which didn’t help your own.

When Bruce went up, an awkward silence filled the air after he tried Hulking out, but then you started laughing again.

“Your turn, bubba.” You nudged the blonde, who gave you a look, before shrugging and patting your thigh. 

“You gotta get off then, honey.”

You rolled your eyes but swung your legs off him, letting him stand up. He rolled his sleeves up, stepping up to Mjolnir, a few encouragements from the team, before pulling on the hammer. You thought you saw it shake a little, but Steve yanked some more and it didn’t move, so you figured you were imagining it.

Steve sighed and let go, putting his hands up in surrender with a grin like the good sport he was. Thor laughed. “Nothing.”

You shrugged at the super soldier who plopped back down besides you as the others tried getting Natasha to go up. “You tried.” 

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and leaning back. “Well if Romanoff isn’t going…your turn.”

“Wh-what?” Your eyes went wide.

“I did it.” He gestured to the hammer. “Now you gotta.”

“Hold on, hold on. We didn’t agree on th-”

“Honey.” He gave you a little pout, cocking his head to the hammer. “C’mon. Just a tug.”

You narrowed your eyes, but your lips turned up and you straightened off the couch. “This is peer pressure. Captain America, everyone.” He chuckled as you stepped over to Mjolnir. “It’s not gonna work.”

Tony snorted. “Not with that attitude.”

“C’mon, Tones. If none of you could.”

The billionaire shrugged with a grin. “Never know if you don’t try.”

You deadpanned at him, gripping the handle and trying, in vain, to pull it. You didn’t put nearly as much effort as everyone else. “Wow. Look at that. What a surprise.”

“What was that?! You barely touched it!”

Giving a shrug, you started back to your seat. “I’m guessing if you’re worthy or whatever, it wouldn’t take that much to lift it.” You fell onto the couch, your head landing in Steve’s lap as you looked upside down at Thor and pointed at him. “But I do have a question for you.” The god looked at you in interest, gesturing for you to continue. “What does worthy mean? Like, what makes a person worthy to lift it? You couldn’t lift it a while back - I know, I read the files. SHIELD agent, remember?” You added when you saw him open his mouth to question you.

You blinked at him curiously, tilting your head, watching as his brow furrowed. Tony cackled and clapped at the silence in answer. “Oooh! She got you! All difference to the Man Who Wouldn’t Be King, but it’s rigged. And the lack of response to Y/N’s question just makes it more obvious.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“You bet your ass.”

You rolled your eyes, letting it go as Maria teased Steve about Clint’s foul language. “Did you tell everyone about that?” Tony ignored Steve’s question and continued to ride on Thor and his hammer.

“Why are they trying to make sense of it?” You questioned, highly entertained, but also very tired, turning to press against Steve’s stomach.

“It’s Tony. I couldn’t tell you. C’mere.” Steve shifted you so that you were sitting up, but he was holding you more comfortably. “Try getting some sleep.”

You hummed and nodded against him, but a high pitched whine made you wince and stand up, Steve unconsciously standing a bit in front of you. A suit of Tony’s, damaged with wires hanging down and oil leaking out or places that didn’t have metal keeping them in, came in and you inwardly sighed at the bad feeling tugging at your gut.

So much for sleep.

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All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading @bibliophilewednesday @breadqueen95 @marvelettesassemble @w-wolfhxrd @the-larry-romance​ @abitofeverythinggg

[cadence-blackburn-for-queen]

Here's a little thing I wrote yesterday! It's my first fanfic and it's translated from swedish, don't judge me!

Fifteen-year-old Morrigan gently swept away the leaves from the small sign. The tension rose within her. Which wundersmith created Deucalion? Soon she knew.

Here is a phenomenon.

Created by wundersmiths Elodie Bauer, Owain Binks and Ezra Squall,

with the support of Countess Lily St. James.

The rest of the words had faded away, but Morrigan did not. She stared at the fence.

Morrigan had already suspected that Ezra had done, or been involved in, the hotel. What she was staring at were the words "... with the support of Lily St.James…".

Morrigan knew who Lily St. was. James var.

Lily St. James was a member of Wunsoc, but no one seemed to know which unit she belonged to. She was a singer with a famously beautiful singing voice. When Laurent St. James was most active, she made it clear that she was NOT supporting him. Also, Lily looked like she was maybe thirty, but if this was true she was over a hundred.

Morrigan went back to Deucalion. She needed to meet Lily, because if Ezra did not want to tell, she was the only one.

"What are you thinking about?" Jupiter asked later at the meal.

Morrigan shrugged. "Nothing special."

"Everything is special, Mog." Jupiter leaned forward. "What is it?"

Morrigan sighed. What would she say? Well now it's like this that your worst enemy has created your hotel and one of the most famous singers in the whole free state is over a hundred years old I don’t know how but at least I want to meet her.

Fortunately, she did not have to say anything. Jupiter's skill as a witness had gone so far that he could almost read her mind. He smiled. "We're inviting her here, okay?"

She nodded.

"Captain North said you needed help with something," said Lily St. James. "Wundersmith."

“Um… Yes, ms. St. James, ”Morrigan replied, uneasy.

She waved it away. “Call me Lily. The others called me that ", she added to herself, and got a sad expression.

Morrigan knew what others meant, but chose to ignore it. It would cause pain.

"You helped build this hotel," Morrigan began bluntly.

"Yes."

"How did you manage to keep the look from when you were type thirty?"

"Elodie, Owain, and Ezra taught me the wundrous art Tempus."

Morrigan grimaced. “You're better than me at it. And is not it Veil too? Like… some kind of illusion too? ”

"But you will be far better," Lily pointed out, smiling. "Yes, you could believe it. I actually have no answer as to why it is not. They told me what to do, and some basic theories, but I never understood, because I'm not a wundersmith. ”

"Sorry if it causes any pain but… How did you know them?"

She pursed her lips. "Ezra was my cousin. I was the only relative he hung out with, because he broke contact completely. But Elodie and I met when we were seven, and we were best friends for the rest of her life. ” Lily fell silent. The word choice “the rest of her life was painfully obvious. She swallowed. After a while she spoke again. “Owain was my soulmate. And my boyfriend. We had a bit of a sway, he got together with one of the most popular boys at school when we breaked up. Then we got back together, and luckily we hadn’t quarreled when he… when they… you know. ” She blinked and looked away.

Morrigan decided they could continue the conversation another time. Now the woman in front of her needed to be cheered up.

"You," Morrigan said cautiously. "You said Ezra is your cousin?"

"Was," Lily corrected.

Morrigan shook his head. "He was just deported from the Free State."

It was as if a candle was lit in Lily's eyes. "Unfairly deported," she mumbled absently. "It was not him… she is smart who blames the innocent."

It was tempting to ask who, but Morrigan kept quiet. However, Lily understood that she was wondering, and patiently replied: “President Winter Sea. Show me Ezra.”

Morrigan nodded, and her head spun with thoughts as she grabbed her umbrella to take her new friend to the Gossamer line.

[vicious-vixxxen]

Could I request older, pro-hero Deku with a chubby male s/o who gets ridiculed because people don't think someone of his size is good enough for the Number One hero

((Ah I may have gotten a little too deep with this one, so apologies nonnie in advance for the angst. Topics like this relate a lot to me personally. So here ya go.))

Izuku Midoriya x Chubby!Male!Reader

“That’s...such /bullshit/,” You huffed, fist clenched into the folds of the magazine, before flicking it across the kitchen with a huff- tears already stinging at the corner of your eyes as it landed split open- your face plastered over the centerfold article. ‘Is #1 Pro Hero Deku’s Husband /TOO/ big?’ The article practically shouted up at you- big, bold red letters smeared over your face, hiding the smile you’d had that night. You’d managed to secure a spot at one of Izuku’s favorite restaurants- mostly by promising the owner you’d be in and out of there within half an hour- he wasn’t the type to fawn too heavily over Pro Hero work, so ‘Deku’ being your husband didn’t hold much weight with him. But you’d been excellent patrons of his since they’d opened, in your second year of high school together. So you managed with what seniority you held. And seeing as how Izuku had only been able to snag thirty minutes between patrols, it was the perfect opportunity to scarf down a quick bite, and chat in- what you thought had been- the privacy of one of the uppermost floors of the establishment. But of course, sleazy as they were, the paparazzi had found a way to catch the both of you eating. A little too fast, a little too messily, just to be able to enjoy the atmosphere together, and have ample room to chat with one another before Izuku had to get back to his patrols. Which was fine, for Pro Hero Deku- six foot seven inches tall, two hundred and ten pounds of pure, lean machine muscle. The epitome of health and wellness, and what it meant to be strong. Able. And then there was you. A little too soft around the sides, cheeks /too/ plump/. Stomach /too/ pudgy. Thighs /too/ thick. God, you looked like a pig, food smeared on your chin, a bowl between you and your husband. ‘I guess we know where his priorities really lie’ the magazine quoted, from some random asshole on the street no doubt. Jesus Christ. “Bunch of fucking assholes.” You were angry. Of course you were angry. Fists held over your eyes to keep the tears at bay. But you were sad too. So, so fucking sad that this shit kept happening. Izuku’s management tried and failed countless times to keep shit like this from spreading. But people loved a good slam piece, as much as they adored seeing Deku’s latest accomplishments splashed across every newspaper, and TV report. Sick fucks. Whatever. Water under the bridge, you told yourself. Throat feeling tight, eyes burning with unshed tears, as you took a few deep breaths, and headed back towards your bedroom. Turning out lights in the house as you went, before stripping and crawling into bed. Thoughts running a mile a minute, as you stared up at the ceiling in silence. The only real noise the quiet sound of a car or two passing the house every now and again. You couldn’t help the way your open palms slid against your chest. Pressing, and kneading at the soft, pillowy flesh of your sides, and stomach. Grimacing at yourself, you recalled how fit you used to be during your high school days. What a dynamic you and Izuku had. Fresh on the scene after high school, no one could compare to the two of you. Kiri and Katsuki came close, but never quite managed the spark you and Izuku had. Professionally speaking. But Izuku just kept climbing higher, and higher- your quirk was good, but limited in its capabilities, which meant a halt in your hero placement a year or two after graduation. But you did what you could. You helped people because you wanted to help people, ratings be damned. But the harder Izuku worked, the more help he needed managing the world that came with climbing to number one. So you patrolled less and less, in favor of working with his design team on costume upgrades. Merchandise. Izuku trusting you and Inko to work directly with his management team, as he knew you all shared a hive mind of sorts when it came to design, and marketing. Pro Hero life for Deku was saving people. Kissing babies, and countless interviews. It was grueling, and tiresome, and he needed a team behind him to take care of everything else. So that’s what you did. Long hours spent at home alone, working through the night on various Deku projects. Meant less patrols, less gym time. You had no need for those things when you were kept busy with Izuku’s team, and you did good work! Fuck, you did great work, and Izuku praised you nonstop. Sure you’d gained a little weight at first, but it looked good on you. At least you thought so. And so did Izuku, if the way he drooled all over the expanse of your thighs the first time you’d gotten a night alone in nearly a month was any indication.   But as time progressed, you cared a little less about your appearance each day. You took care of yourself, and you were far from unhealthy. But there was no denying you had filled out substantially. You didn’t care, and Izuku didn’t seem to care either...but the media sure did. Closing your eyes suddenly, you took a deep breath. Holding it in for several seconds, before letting it out shakily. Tears finally falling as you did so, and you rolled over to snuggle into Izuku’s side of the bed- face smushed into the other man’s pillow, to breath in the soft scent of his cologne. His musk. Drifting off to sleep sniffling, dreaming of the glory days the two of you held together. Izuku hadn’t planned on coming home tonight at all, it wasn’t in his schedule to. But when he’d taken five to break for a snack, he’d ran into Kirishima at the agency. Chatting quickly, recalling rather suddenly that it had been several days since he’d seen Y/N. Scratching at the nape of his neck awkwardly, hunched over slightly muttering excuses to himself. He may have been big, and strong, but to his friends, Midoriya still held fast to those traits that made him who he was. Even back at UA. One call to Bakugou from Kirishima later, and the two of them were taking Deku’s shift, sending him hurrying home- a smile as bright as the sun on his face as he charged up, and bolted from the agency as fast as he could. Fingers crossed that you weren’t asleep yet. His dreams were dashed, but not unpleasantly so, when he landed outside however, and found all the lights in the house were off. It was late, and he appreciated you getting your rest. Knowing all too well how often you’d stay awake working on things for him. Izuku’s heart overflowed with love for you when he recalled all you did for him. For the both of you. He couldn’t imagine being as cemented in the top spot, as capable of doing what he did, without you there. You and his mother were his whole world, keeping him afloat at even the hardest of times. He...he was nothing, without you. So knowing you were in bed, getting your rest, made him smile. A smile that was soon replaced with a recoiled snarl as he entered the house- beelining to the kitchen for a glass of water, wherein he found the magazine spread out, as though left for him on the kitchen floor. Another one. Another article attacking you. Shaming you. Making fun of you. The kitchen was alight with green sparks as Izuku picked up the magazine, sneering at it when it came clearly into focus, before promptly stomping over and throwing it into the trash. Chest heaving as he sat with the knowledge that you’d probably been worrying over this again all evening. While he was out. Combing the city for villains, while you were here, dealing with...god. Hero suit boots already at the front door, Deku removed his socks as he made his way back to your bedroom quietly- leaving them in the hall- a nasty habit of his he’d never been able to break. Letting himself into your room, his heart breaking at the site before him. He wasn’t sure how long you’d been crying, but it was long enough to leave the salty, humid scent of tears in the air as he entered. And there you were, huddled up with his pillows, breathing softly- face smeared with tears, their tracks glinting back at Izuku as he rounded the bed, and just stood there. Feeling so powerless. Too big. Normally he’d clean up first, but being sure he couldn’t wait one more second, let alone the twenty minutes it would take to shower, Midoriya acted quickly. Removing his Hero suit silently, left in nothing but a pair of fitted boxer briefs- before sliding into bed next to you. Pulling his pillow gently from your grasp, to settle behind his own head, before gathering you up and into his arms. Shifting you almost entirely onto his front, before you stirred. Izuku’s stopped breathing when your eyes fluttered open, and your nose wrinkled- wanting to smile as you noticed the heat beneath you, the strong scent of Izuku’s skin filling your senses. Glancing up at him, your sleep idled mind offered only one clear thought. ‘He’s home’. Try as you might, however, the pressure from earlier in the evening boiled over again- mixing with the overwhelming sense of love you felt at being able to see him. Feel him. Smell him. Just /be/ with him. Everything was still, and quiet, a pin drop could be heard. Until you hiccupped, once, twice, before choking on a sob as you pressed your face flush against Izuku’s chest, and cried. You cried, and cried, and cried. Trying to recall the last time you’d seen him, your sleep clouded mind coming up blank. All you could see was that stupid fucking picture in the magazine. Izuku held firm to you as you cried, eyes shut tight, tears threatening to spill right alongside yours. Old habits die hard, he thought idly. He didn’t shush you, or try and quiet you down. Offer words of encouragement, nor did he berate the magazines, or spew on about how much hell he was going to put them through for this. He simply held you, stroked your back, and kissed the top of your head over and over, as you covered his chest in tears. Finally settling down after a few minutes, and simply breathing together. Your ears pressed against Deku’s wet chest, listening to your husband's heartbeat. Allowing it to calm you. Arms finding their way under Izuku’s body, holding each other now. Tight, almost too much. But neither of you complained. “I love you,” Izuku finally whispered, though it was so full of sentiment- of meaning, almost harshly so, it caught you off guard. “I love you more than the world will ever know, or understand, and I’d drop off the face of the planet tomorrow, and leave them to fend for themselves, if it meant proving to you how wonderfully, beautifully, exquisitely perfect you are to me.” Fucking…”I wanted to /stop/ crying, you fucking jerk,” You laughed wetly, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks as you lifted a hand to swat at the side of Deku’s head- both of you snickering wetly now, as you began to card your fingers through his hair with the same hand. Snuggling impossibly deeper into the man’s chest, as his words rang in your ears. He meant it too, the voice in your head whispered. Your chest tight as you imagined him giving up all he’d ever worked for, just so you’d understand. You never held any doubt that he loved you. As you were, as you had been- however you’d be tomorrow, or the day after. But you struggled a lot, internally. You always had. It would be a struggle you’d live with till the day you died, you were sure of it. But even so, you reasoned, then and there, that if even then, you knew how deeply, and unequivocally Izuku cared for you- loved you. That thing’s would always be okay. No matter what. “I love you too,” you sighed back finally, clearing your throat, and closing your eyes as you felt yourself quickly drifting again. “So so much, ‘zuku.” Peppering Deku’s chest with kisses till you fell asleep, Izuku was sure if his heart swelled any more, it would burst. Waiting till you had fallen back asleep fully, he rolled the two of you over. Caging you into the mattress beneath him, and falling asleep that way. Guarding you even as the two of you slept. Keeping you safe from everyone, and everything.  Midoriya’s only other thought, besides you, before he slipped into unconsciousness, was to call into the agency the next day, because he wasn’t going to going in for a while. ((Really enjoyed writing this one, got me in my feels, and made me feel all warm, imagining Deku holding me at the end of a  long day, when I could care less about feeling good about myself. Thanks for the opportunity nonnie, hope you enjoy.))