#The only interruptions are when the person during their block talks a little between songs. Either about the music or PSAs

[albino-parakeet]

Listening to the radio is actually nice when you don’t have 50 commercials by corporations you hate constantly interrupting the music.

[cinnamon-bunni]

Day 15: A Quiet Moment

alright this might be my best for this event. or maybe second best idk but i got to write some levi angst and thats always fun :))

Read it on Ao3! Word count: 1k

Shut up.

It was something Leviathan often told himself. No one wants to listen to you rant. Stop talking, no one cares. You just interrupted someone, you asshole. Keep your mouth shut and next time you won’t embarrass yourself.

Shut up shut up shut up.

Sometimes Leviathan thought he was going to die. It was a similar feeling to when he fell–the race of his heart, tears welling in his eyes, and the sound of everything burning around him, making his ears ring. It made him want to rip his hair out, to claw his eyes and ears out, to scratch and pull and puncture his skin with his long and polished nails.

Sometimes Leviathan wanted to die. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Probably not, but try telling that to that dumb brain of his.

During times like these, he always ended up in his bathtub-bed. Always curled up on his side, legs drawn in as he relished in the cool feeling of porcelain against him. A blanket on top of him, blocking him out from the world. His headphones on, connected to his phone that played his “it’s dissociating time’’ playlist. He listened to the songs on loop, again and again, usually until he fell asleep or someone told him food was ready. 

And it seemed like today his little personal time was interrupted by the latter. He could hear it, just barely over his music. Leviathan decided to ignore it though; he knew he wasn’t ready to go back out there, not yet. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe never–he was fine with either.

He squeezed himself into a tighter ball. The knocking that once was faint grew just a bit louder, no doubt the person on the other side yelling for his attention. Leviathan didn’t want to give it to them. Turned out, his plot worked, because at some point the noise stopped, and Leviathan was left alone again to sulk in silence and stew in his own pathetic self-hatred.

Leviathan was vaguely aware of his hunger. He wasn’t even sure what time it was, but he was sure by now both breakfast and lunch had passed. Hell, he might've even fallen asleep at one point, with all of his emotions tiring him, but he wasn’t too sure. It started to all become a blur to Leviathan.

Oh well. Maybe if he just stayed in there until the next day, things would be better.

But he didn’t want to. Well, not completely. A part of Leviathan had gotten sick of staying in the bathtub all day, with his back aching and his legs sore and his ears almost bleeding from how loud his music was for hours on end. But another part knew he wouldn’t last a second outside of his room, and it would be best just to stay. It was a constant back and forth between the two ideas, until Leviathan finally got the courage and stood up, and walked himself out of his room. 

He didn’t think about it too hard. He tried to focus on the goal at hand, for he knew if he thought about it too hard, he’d go running back.

And so, with a blanket in-tow to use as hoodie and cape, Leviathan walked down the quiet halls of the House, with one destination in mind. He knocked on the door, and didn’t wait for an answer. He was quick to enter and close the door behind. 

“Oh, so you finally decided to show your face.” Lucifer was always harsh with his words. Leviathan stared at him, watching his brother’s pen danced on top of paperwork. “I assume you’ve gotten dinner already?”

Leviathan shook his head. He wasn’t hungry–he felt like he would throw up anything that went down, and he didn’t want to take the risk of feeling any worse.

“What was that?” Right, Lucifer wasn’t even looking at him. He was probably so tired of Leviathan’s antics by now.

“No.” Leviathan hated how hoarse and sad his voice sounded. But after hours of sleeping and crying, it was only inevitable. 

“Of course not,” Lucifer sighed. “Let me guess, you’re not hungry, right?”

Leviathan nodded once more, and then added a quiet “yeah.”

“And that you’re too overwhelmed right now?”

“Yeah.” Leviathan didn’t appreciate all the questions. Maybe it would’ve better to just stay in his room, so Lucifer wouldn’t have to handle Leviathan’s stupid meltdown and Leviathan wouldn’t have to handle Lucifer’s stupid attitude. He didn’t want to be dealing with this, but this was the only place, other than his room, did he feel safe.

He could practically hear Lucifer roll his eyes. “And what do you suppose I do about it?” 

“Can’t I-” Diavolo, he hated how his voice sounded. “Can’t I just stay here for a bit? While you do work?”

His brother sighed. “I suppose,” he answered, “as long as you’re not bothering me.”

Leviathan ended up sitting on the floor, against the front side of the desk. He held onto the blanket tight to keep it as close as he could. He could’ve taken any of the seats in the office, but he wanted to sit as close to Lucifer as possible.

The room was quiet, sans the scratches of pen and the crackles of the fire. It didn’t leave Leviathan in a mess, surprisingly. He would say it even calmed him somewhat. The small noises were what kept him sane, it felt like. Much better than the music he listened to on loop–even though that helped him in the past, it seemed that this time around, a quiet room was what he needed. And his older brother’s presence, too.

“Once you’re done,” Lucifer started after a few minutes of silence, “I want you to eat dinner. There should be some leftovers for you in the fridge–that is, if Beel didn’t eat it like I had asked him to.”

“Okay,” Leviathan muttered in response. He clutched on the blanket tighter. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Lucifer’s scoff was harsh. “You’re not,” he said, then added, “as long as you stay quiet. I still need to work.” Leviathan could do that. Being quiet was easy for the most part. 

And so the third-born silenced himself the best he could, and let himself get lost in the smaller noises. He tried to let himself relax, and let himself get comforted by the fact that everything was calm and fine around him.

He let himself bask in the silence.

[stxrrywildflower]

can’t help falling in love (one)

pairing - george weasley x reader

summary - you ask george to be your date to your sisters wedding

warnings - mentions of family/home issues

word count - 2.6k

series masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

george always valued family and friendship more than anything.

he grew up with multitudes of siblings and being a twin himself, those bonds were something taught to him at a very young age. even harry, when introduced to the family, slowly turned from just ‘ron’s friend’ to another little brother.

you, on the other hand, you were something different to george.

you had met the weasley’s when you were only ten.

it was the summer before you were set to start at hogwarts. your grandmother had taken you to diagon alley to get your materials for the school year; robes, books, and your wand being some of the most notable items.

you owed your grandmother the credit for your magical abilities. you were muggle-born, having two muggle parents and you inheriting your abilities from your grandmother.

while shopping, your grandmother had bumped into an old friend, none other than molly weasley. while the two had talked on and on, you shyly drifted away from your grandmother.

you found herself lingering around eeylops owl emporium, looking at the different birds and the other products they carried.

“one day we’re going to own a shop here! and you’re the first one to hear it.”

the two ginger boys who were previously hiding behind their mum had drifted just like you. “really? what kind of shop?” you asked.

“one for pranks!” one of them spoke. “yeah and gag products too!” the other one added.

you wanted to continue the conversation, but at the same time you still didn’t know who you were really talking to other than the fact they were molly’s kids.

“i’m fred,” the first one waved after realizing he should probably introduce himself. “and i’m george,” the other one greeted.

you nodded with a small smile. “y/n.”

from that day on, an instant friendship was formed.

just in that day alone, you got both your robes and wands together and even lunch. when the day was over, the twins had left with wide grins, waves, and the promise for you to all sit on the train together.

it took a bit for you to distinguish the twins apart but after being pointed out their subtle differences, a day didn’t go by where you mixed them up.

you did everything together without even realizing the future you had ahead of you. ten year old you didn’t even think about the boys you would be getting your first wands with would turn into your best friends.

the sorting ceremony was what really sealed it.

you were absolutely terrified walking into the great hall. between the stares of the students at their house tables and the teachers, you were a bundle of nerves.

fred and george were sent up before you, fred going first up to the sorting hat followed by george. it was no doubt where they would end up.

when your name was called, you nearly froze. however, fred and george at the gryffindor table had given you a reassuring thumbs-up with a smile. sure it was simple but it had given you a boost of confidence.

“y/n y/l/n?” professor mcgonagall had called.

you headed up to the front, taking a seat on the stool as the sorting hat was placed on your head.

it took a few minutes, with some random chatter from the sorting hat, before your house was given to you.

“gryffindor!” the sorting hat announced.

fred and george met you at the table with a strong hug, the three of you more than overjoyed you were sorted together.

molly and your grandmother were equally as excited. the first opportunity you had, you sent a letter home telling her all about your arrival and finally your house. fred and george did the same, though their sorting wasn’t exactly a surprise.

you went home with the weasley’s during your first christmas break. your grandmother was going to be traveling and your parents and sister, well your parents and your sister were a different story.

the weasley’s welcomed you with opened arms. you, fred, and george were already close. percy was at hogwarts with you as well. you met ron, ginny, bill, and charlie.

your friendship only grew as you went up in the years. just like they had mentioned when you first met, fred and george started working on different prank products the second they had the access to the right materials. you assisted, of course, but honestly, you were the least rebellious of your group.

but like most friend groups, there were always two that were closer than the others. that fell to you and george. you were still close with fred, of course, but there was something about the bond you and george had that went beyond anything.

the twins still knew almost everything about you. but you always tried to block one thing from them; your family issues.

they never questioned when you changed the subject of it when it was brought up and never once complained when you stayed at their home over going to yours.

but with the recent events and arrival of your invitation, it was something both boys couldn’t ignore.

↓

george couldn’t find you until later that afternoon.

since you had rushed out of class after getting a letter, no one had seen you, harry, or hermione.

ron was on the lookout as well. his friends had failed to show in in the great hall for lunch or even just in the hallways.

��fred! george!” ron called to his brothers. “have you seen harry and hermione?”

george shrugged. “i know they’re with y/n but that’s about it. haven’t seen her since she rushed out of transfiguration.”

“you think they’re back in the common room?” fred questioned.

“it’s worth a try.”

the three brothers arrived at the gryffindor corridor after a few moments. judging by the scarce amount of students and few first years scurrying out of the portrait entrance, there was no doubt you were inside.

ron took the initiate to repeat the passcode. even from the outside they would hear what sounded like arguing.

“y/n you have to do what makes you comfortable.”

“yeah but then-” you stopped your response to hermione’s words the second you noticed the others enter the room. “oh hey guys.”

“what’s going on? we haven’t seen you for hours,” george immediately rushed out.

the twins and ron finally took a minute to examine the room, eyes darting around to see where everyone was situated.

harry was leaning against the wall under the window, arms crossed with a concerned look on his face. hermione was more calm, taking a seat on one of the chairs though her expression did mirror harry’s.

you, on the other hand, took a seat from your previous pacing just as the other group entered.

“it’s nothing guys,” you mumbled.

“y/n,” fred started as he sat criss-crossed in front of you. george did the same, though he tapped your knee twice. it was a simple gesture, though it did gain your attention. “you can talk to us, you know that,” george finished.

“i got my sisters wedding invitation today. it’s this saturday,” you spoke. “and i don’t like talking about it but uh, i don’t really get along well with her.”

it took a lot for you to even get that out. you were more than thankful no one pushed the subject further.

“do you not want to go?”

you shook you head. “i mean not really. but i feel like i have to. if not i don’t really know how i would feel as a person.”

“well whatever you decide, just know we’re all here for you, okay?”

you nodded. “thank you guys, it really means a lot.”

the group in the common room slowly started to disperse after that. you declined any invitations to go get food or explore the school but instead took a seat back down in front of fire.

one thing you failed to mention; you needed a date.

↓

you asked george wednesday night.

“george,” you interrupted, already shooting an apologetic look to the others at the table. “can i talk to you for a second?”

you ignored the chorus of ‘oooh’s’ from the others at the table as george stood up. “georgie’s in trouble,” fred spoke in a sing-song tone.

“i’ll see you all later,” george spoke to the table.

he followed you out of the great hall. as you were heading down one of the hallways, george leaned down to interlock your hands, swinging them back and forth in front of you.

you had to admit, it did incite a laugh out of you. george always knew how to cheer you up, even if it meant just little gesture as silly as that.

you finally pulled george down one of the corridors, situating yourself in one of the corners behind the walls. you could actually talk to him without having to worry about prying eyes.

“so you know how i have to go home for my sisters wedding this weekend?” you asked.

george nodded as he crossed his arms. “yes?”

“i need a date to go with me. it says so on the invitation,” you fiddled with the sleeve of your robe, unable to meet george’s eyes. “could you maybe come with me? you totally don’t have to if you don’t want and i know i’m a muggle-born so a lot of my family doesn’t really know magic and that’s a lot different the your-”

george cut off your rambling with a grab of your hands. “hey hey hey, you really think i wouldn’t go because your a muggle-born?” george asked, his tone being one of almost hurt.

you shrugged, hiding your face once more. “you see how some people treat us. besides, it’s a muggle wedding. no offense but i know you don’t know how a lot of things in the muggle world work. i wasn’t sure if you would want to go for that reason.”

“y/n i would love to go,” george smiled.

you let out a sigh of relief. “but if you don’t mind me asking, why me?” george questioned.

“well you’re my best friend. fred is cool and all but i just feel a lot more comfortable going with you.”

george’s confidence grew ten times from your words. was he proud you chose him over fred? absolutely. but honestly, he was really really happy to be invited.

“i know you mentioned it before but i wanted to reassure something to you. i know your family relationship is rocky but i promise, i’ll support you with whatever it is. if you want to go home at any point during the trip, just say the word and we’ll go. okay?”

you bit your lip to hold back the tears already welling in your eyes. “is george weasley going soft on me?”

his cheeks flushed a shade of red at your comment. “maybe,” he mumbled. you reached up to place your hand on his cheek. “i don’t mind, it’s sweet.”

george smiled back down at you, squeezing your hand as you brought it back down.

“mcgonagall wanted to see me and whoever i decided to take tomorrow night to go over some things. thank you can meet me after dinner?” you asked.

“of course, though you may have to remind me,” george grinned.

you matched his expression. “i’ll see you then.”

↓

suprisingly, george did in fact remember your appointment.

he met you outside of the great hall. “ready to go see mcgonagall?” george questioned. you nodded, “yeah let’s go.”

mcgonagall’s office didn’t take long to reach, just down a few hallways and then though a password protected doors. you were guests and given a temporary code to use.

“professor mcgonagall?” you called.

“come in!”

you stepped in first, motioning for george to wait a moment before he followed. “ah hello y/n, i assume you’re here for your trip this weekend.”

“and you’re bringing mr. weasley?” her tone changed to one of more questioning at the end once george made an appearance.

“if that’s okay of course.”

mcgonagall hummed to herself. “we just have to go over a few things and then i’ll let you go. it’s all just standard procedures.”

“of course.”

“first off how are you looking on assignments?”

“i’m finished,” you spoke. mcgonagall turned to george. “and you mr. weasley?”

“i made him get ahead,” you piped in. “we’ve been working a lot to get everything done over the past few days.”

mcgonagall quirked an eyebrow at that, more george being done over you.

“now for travel, you two will take the floo to your home tomorrow afternoon and then be back in time for classes monday,” mcgonagall explained. “and remember, no magic outside of hogwarts!”

you nodded, “of course not.”

“oh dear it’s not you on worried about, it’s him,” she singled george out with a narrow of her eyes before turning to you. “you had to chose him of all people? our most notorious troublemaker?”

you shook your head with a grin. “what can i say, i guess i have good taste.”

george gaped slightly at your words, a bright blush crossing over his cheeks before he could even think to hide his face.

“well if you’re sure, then that’s all. here is your designated amount of floo powder. just one pinch in the gryffindor fireplace with a shout of your address and you should be good to go. that’s all i have, you two are dismissed.”

“thank you professor mcgonagall,” you smiled.

george followed you out of the room, allowing for you to exit first. you had a bit of a way to go to get back to the dorms, a much longer walk from the office to the dorms.

“well tomorrow’s the day,” george spoke in an attempt to start a conversation.

you hummed, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself as you walked. “yeah it is.”

“i haven’t taken the floo in forever. i hope i don’t blow up or something.”

you attempted to hide your giggle at his poor attempt of a joke behind your sleeve but it still broke though, bouncing off the empty corridor. george smiled too, clearly glad he was able to make you laugh.

the two of you reaching the gryffindor common room just moments later. it was entirely empty, most people either in their rooms already or still out studying.

george stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls dormitories. he couldn’t go up, for obvious reasons, and besides, he was pretty tired too.

“well goodnight y/n.”

you smiled up at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand gently as a silent ‘thank you.’

“goodnight george.”

↓

classes ended early on friday allowing for you and george to actually floo home at a good time.

after lunch, you headed back to the gryffindor common room. your bags were already packed, you just had to grab them from your dorms.

the room was pretty much empty when you and george headed back down the stairs. since everyone had the afternoon off, most students were either going to hogsmeade or occupying somewhere else on the school grounds.

however, harry, ron, hermione, and fred remained behind to see you go and make sure nothing went wrong.

“alright we’re heading out. we’ll be back sunday afternoon around four,” you announced.

“stay safe,” hermione piped up. “and try and have some fun.”

you smiled at her. she was someone you found yourself going to,despite your small age gap, to talk about your issues with.

george hauled up your suitcase onto his shoulder before making his way over to the fireplace. you stepped in right after him.

you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the short trip you were about to be taking. “ready?” george asked as he nudged you with his elbow. “ready,” you confirmed.

the floo powder felt heavy in your hand. george took some too, shifting it back and forth between his fingers before turning to you. “let’s go.”

you spoke out your home address in your loudest and most clear voice before tossing the powder down.

and in one large crackle of the fire, you and george were gone.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

tagging: @goldenxreid @wilburxpancakes @blakeprentiss @criminaly-supernatural @blakes-dictionxry @mrs-dr-reid @weasleytwinsfav

[mvrtaiswriting]

Your writing is so beautifully done! I feel like you really capture your characters’ personalities. Would you consider writing a scenario where reader was part of the Crusaders and is reconnecting with part4!Jotaro after his recent divorce. It’s awkward dating at first, but Joot’s heart melts every time he sees reader and Jolyne getting along so well.

Are you even real? - Jotaro Kujo.

HELLO HELLO HELLO and thank you so much for waiting so long! Writer’s block has been a pain BUT this one actually carried me away and helped me get through it.. so thank you for requesting it! Gotta say it: timeline of jojo’s event is not accurate, but it does include everything you asked for!! I don’t wanna bother you anymore so please enjoy! I hope this meets your expectations!! 

Neutral reader x Jotaro Kujoh.

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Diamond Is Unbreakable & Stardust Crusaders

Timeline of Jojo’s events (mostly jotaro’s fatherhood) is a bit bizzare

SFW

Trigger warning: usual jojo’s violence

Words Count: 2631

Song suggestion: Are you even real? by James Blake

Hi! Are you a new reader? Check my masterlist for more content!

Please feel free to reblog or leave a comment :) help me support my art (it’s free!),

© bearing in mind everything I post/write is my intellectual property so please don’t steal/copy and paste and post it as yours.

Jotaro was about to throw what would have been his last punch to Kira when he was interrupted by the manifestation of a familiar stand. Was he hallucinating? Did he lose too much blood to imagine things now? While he asked himself this questions, resting his back against the wall trying to preserve the few energies he had left in his body, he looked around looking for the owner of the stand that just came to his rescue. His eyes scanned meticulously the area; he was sure you weren’t far – of course, if all of it just wasn’t a massive joke made by his tired mind.

But you were there – you were really there. And you were beating up Kira so bad, making it look so easy. He widened his eyes open, forcing himself to remain conscious. Josuke would have arrived in matters of minutes and he would have cured all of his injuries.

Jotaro closed his eyes, and the next thing he saw was you and Josuke leaning over him. You smiled when you noticed he was regained energy and health, looking into his beautiful aquamarine eyes for some seconds. You really missed them, you missed him.

“Getting old?” you said laughing, offering him a hand to help him stand up. He shook his head while a soft, almost imperceptible smile formed on his lips as he fixed his hat onto his head as per usual.

“What are you doing here?” he said, opening his arms and implicitly inviting you into a hug.

You smiled, hugging him tight. You guys hadn’t seen each other in so long, and being in each other’s arms just felt like coming home.

“Guess this is your way to say ‘thank you for saving my ass, nice to see you again!’” you said laughing.

Behind you, Josuke’s and his friends’ all had riddled expressions on their faces. Seeing Jotaro so outgoing surely was something unexpected – so much that Kira running away didn’t seem to matter at all.

Jotaro nodded at your words, breaking up from the hug and taking a good minute to look at you. He still was much taller than you, and you didn’t seem to have aged a bit. You were as beautiful as he remembered you. What he didn’t remember was all the complicated, little emotions he felt every time he was next to you that were now coming back to surface. You always held a special place in his heart. You two always shared a particular bond that never got the chance to really develop. During the crusaders days, you were too busy fighting and looking for Dio to get involved into emotional relationships; and following the final battle, after losing Kakyion, Avdol and Iggy, Jotaro didn’t think it was appropriate to actually confess you his feelings. All of you were mourning the deaths of your companions, and although Kakyion would have encouraged Jotaro to actually tell you about how he felt, in that moment, it just didn’t feel right. So he let you go, and everyone just returned to their own lives. He had moved on since then or at least he tried to do so; he was now a father with a failed marriage, but he never really forgot you. Afterall, no one ever forgets their first love.

“Joseph called me a week ago. I’m sorry I came late but it was the best I could do!” You answered Jotaro’s previous question. “He told me you guys needed a hand and that my degree in criminology would have been useful. He explained everything to me and.. here I am!” you continued.

Jotaro’s expression seemed surprised. He didn’t know his grandfather was still in contact with you. At first, he started to ask himself why didn’t Joseph tell him years before. He could have had a chance with you – he would have followed you wherever you were. His jiji knew what he felt towards you, how could he just stay silent? Those questions were quickly followed by doubts: what was Joseph planning? Did he call you because they really needed you there or because he was just trying to help Jotaro overcome his divorce and find someone to help him with Jolyne? All these doubts clouded Jotaro’s mind, leaving him silent.

After you were introduced to everyone, you and the rest of the guys went to a coffee bar to discuss how  investigations would have been organised and what methods would have been more successful in finding Kira’s new identity.

Jotaro kept his eyes locked on you while you professionally explained to Rohan, Koichi and the rest of the boys what to do. A part of him was busy studying every little detail of your face. How you still did the same facial expression you did 10 years before, how your smile still managed to lighten up everything around you. It was so strange how much time passed by, how many things changed during these years; yet  things stayed the same between the two of you. He still felt the same way he did when he was just a boy, you guys still related to each other the same way you did when you travelled around the world.

Jotaro’s posture was much more relaxed now that you were around. His face had a more relaxed expression, and you gladly found out that he became a bit more talkative than he was in his younger days.

Joseph found you a room in the same Hotel where him and Jotaro where staying in while in Morio-cho, leading the two of you to spend an incredible amount of time together.

As time passed, you and Jotaro grew closer and closer. You quickly learned about his love life and that he became a marine biologist, something you would have never expected from him. He was very curious about your life too: he was eager to know what happened to you during those years – he wasn’t able to find you when he tried, and now that you were right in front of him, he wanted to make the best out of the time he got to spend with you. He wanted to know if the person he always loved was taken, and what happened to them during all that time. However, he never directly asked you any private question. He learned that you had an important relationship at a certain point, which broke your heart and made you afraid of love, but only because you and Joseph talked about it.

He thought it was ironic; he had a similar experience.

Searching for Kira’s new identity was tiring. You were all doing your best, and were using every resource you could. You in particular were really involved with the whole research project– it was the main reason why you were there. Every time there were news, whether they were minor or not, you were always the first one to be notified.

You were busy examining some of your notes and the pictures Rohan took when Jotaro knocked on your door. You sent your stand over to open the door, focusing on your studies. It was only when you smelled Jotaro’s sweet perfume filling the room that you finally lifted your eyes up from the books and the various pics in front of you. You greeted Jotaro with a weak smile, as he sat down next to you.

“Thought you could use some coffee.” He said, leaving a fuming cup in front of you.

You thanked him, and proceeded to take a long sip from the cup.

“How is it going?” he asked.

You sighed, running an hand through your hair as if that gesture could help you reorganise your thoughts. You explained everything to him, ranting a bit about how stressing the whole situation felt. Every time you thought you got closer to finding Kira, something happened that forced you to start all over again. He wasn’t like every other serial killer you studied about; he was always a step ahead of everyone.

Jotaro listened carefully to your words, nodding sometimes to let you know that he was really paying attention to what you were saying. Once you finished, he looked a bit perplexed and offered you his insight regarding the whole situations. You trusted his words more than anyone else’s – you knew he had great analytical skills, you would have trusted him with your life. Something you already did in the past.

The two of you spent the night together, smoking some cigarettes while discussing about every possibility regarding Kira’s escape. He sat exactly next to you on the sofa, reading some documents given to you by the Speedwagon foundation when you tiredly rested your head on his shoulder.

This gesture made his muscles contract for a second, catching him out of guard. He turned to look at you, your eyes almost closed because of your tiredness. Without saying a word, Jotaro leaned his lips against your head, leaving a soft kiss on it before continuing reading his documents as if nothing happened. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep. When Jotaro noticed it, he wasn’t sure about moving. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he knew that wasn’t the most comfortable position for you to sleep in. He slowly lied on the sofa, letting you rest your head on his chest. He put his white coat on you, deciding to stay there for the night.

You woke up next to him the following morning, your bodies completely intertwined. You were confused, as you didn’t remember falling asleep. Also, you didn’t really want to bother Jotaro this much, and immediately felt bad about it. You slowly got up, leaving the beautiful man sleep on the sofa of your hotel room. After a quick shower, you headed towards the hotel’s canteen to buy some breakfast for both of you.

When you finally returned to your room, you saw Jotaro stretching up, standing tall in the middle of the room. “Morning” he whispered in a low, raspy voice.

Smiling as if you were a teenager in love, you replied and offered him a donut.

“I’m sorry for yesterday. You could have woken me up.” You said shyly, doing your best to avoid eye contact.

He hinted a small laugh, messing your hair with his hand.

“No need to apologise, silly. It’s fine, I fell asleep too.”

-

Days passed by, and you knew you were getting closer to find out Kira’s identity. Your days however, weren’t made up solely by studies, researches or fight. Most of the time you found yourself spending time with the Joestar’s family: you would usually have dinner with Josuke, Jotaro, Joseph and Josuke’s mum, spending quality time together and hearing funny anecdotes from Josuke and Joseph. You also had the chance to meet Jolyne a few times; Jotaro drove you out of city because he really cared about letting the two of you meet. And it was a good thing: you and jolyne relly got along with each other, almost as if you had been friends in a previous lifetime.

Although Jotaro was never vocal about it, he was important to him to see how  along you got with his family. He loved seeing you playing with Jolyne, and he knew how much you appreciated and respected Joseph. It was also nice to see you getting along with Josuke – both of you had a lively personality, and he grew affectionate towards you really quickly. Sometimes, Jotaro would find your bond a bit irritating – but he knew Josuke was only a 14 y/o boy. He was also conscious about how irrationally jealous he could become, so he never really spoke about it.

As time passed, Jotaro became more and more aware of his feelings towards you. He never forgot you and now every emotion he felt in the past was simply coming back.

 The two of you spent an awful amount of time together, always finding new excuses to do so. Whether it was to investigate over Kira, training to prepare for the final battle or simply visiting some new places, there wasn’t a moment when you weren’t with him; and although he felt incredible bad for thinking about it, Jotaro hoped to find Kira as late as possible.

He needed more time; more time to fully understand what was going on inside his mind and his heart, more time to find the right words to explain everything to you, more time to understand whether his feelings were reciprocated or not.

It was during the final battle with Kira that he finally had the responses he needed.

Seeing you covered in blood made his heart beat incredibly fast. For minutes that felt like an eternity he did not know what to do, how to act - something which was very unusual for him. Jotaro had always been the kind of person to think rapidly, without letting his emotions overwhelm him. But this time it was different. He left you and Josuke fighting alone against Kira for too much time and now the both of you were in danger. It was something he already experience before in Egypt, and he wasn’t willing to lose anyone else.  You kept one of Josuke’s arms around your shoulders to help him standing, the young boy still towering you even if his figure was arched over you. Both of you were covered in blood and with various injuries over your bodies. You were still able to stand on your feet, looking angrily at Kira who was grinning in response. Your breath was heavy and you didn’t have much strength left in your body, but when you saw Jotaro, you knew you had to hold on.

You gave him a quick look, his face covered with worry and fear. “I’ll cover your back but you'll have to be quick.” you said, summoning your powerful Stand once again. Jotaro understood your plan, and without losing anymore time he started walking towards you, becoming close enough to use Star Platinum against your enemy.

“Star Platinum. The World!” he said, stopping time and letting Kira have a taste of Star Platinum’s punches.

Before he let time flow again, he gently picked your body up in his arms and stepped far enough from the explosion Killer Queen would have caused moments later. Shielding you with his own body, time started to flow again. You looked at him smiling, gratefully crouching yourself onto his chest, trying your best to recover some energie and enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Thanks for always being my hero.”

Jotaro couldn’t help but smile hearing those words, shaking his head in response.

“I just returned you a favour.”, he added.

-

Two weeks passed by since the defeat of Yoshikage Kira.

You and Jotaro decided to stay in Morio-cho a bit longer than what you originally planned. The time spent together allowed you to discuss your mutual feelings and, after a long night of passion and love, you started dating.

It was awkward at first. You and Jotaro never really officialised your relationship; you just let things between you evolve naturally, preferring a physical love language over words – what united the two of you wasn’t something that could have been easily described. However, he eventually confessed you that he had loved you since your trip in Egypt, receiving a: “I did too, idiot.” in response.

As time went by, you and Jolyne managed to build a strong, beautiful bond – so much, she’d start to refer to you as a parental figure and nothing less. Jotaro loved seeing the two of you together; you were the people he loved the most, and he was happy his little daughter liked you as much as he always did.

[florencwrites]

prisoner 〚dreamwastaken〛

in which [reader] will always wait for him, in which dream is no longer dream

(!) blood, torture, emotional trauma (!)

If there's one thing that Dream had taught me; it was that persistence is key. "Stubbornness gets you places." He had always told me, laying in the grass against that same scratchy birch tree several times a week. He'd lay his head in my lap and hum songs while I played with his hair. He'd often pluck the grass and drop it on my knees, or draw little smiley faces on my skin.

He'd never meant for this to happen, for it all to happen. All along, all he had wanted was to be one big happy family, to give all his friends that exact feeling he had never gotten. He'd go out of his way to make people smile. Make them live in harmony, helping with crops and mining, even going as far as spending hours trying to find traces of ancient debris; all to make his friends content. He never wavered in his goals, always trying to convince people to see the best in everyone. Hoping that if he just kept smiling, one day, everyone would be smiling right back at him.

However, lately, his smile had rarely been genuine, really, the only time I ever saw the true glint of faith in his pupils was when we laid against that tree, humming songs and basking in the sun. He was having trouble keeping up his positive outlook, everywhere he looked there were pets dying and friendships breaking up. Houses being destroyed and families torn apart because of stupid things. Items that held no worth, that could never hold any worth as important as family or friends did.

"Stubbornness gets you places." He'd always say when I scolded him for acting like a brat. Unfortunately, the only place it had gotten him so far was in prison. I was reminded of this fact daily, returning to the impenetrable walls every minute I wasn't spending eating, at all hours of the day and night. My sobs echoed through the obsidian, mimicking the wails of the many ghasts that had tried to pass through generations of the dark purple stone. The block seemed to have created itself a connection to grief, mourning even. I pounded on the wall, to no avail I'd realized quite quickly on, until both my knuckles and palms were bloody and bruised, and I did it every single fucking day. I'd do everything to have him back in my arms, anything.

On the lonely nights, the residing heat in the obsidian often brought me warmth. The bubbles in the stone leaving marks on my shoulders. Often the warmth reminded me of him, of his chest pressing against my back. I could feel the ghost of his fingertips scour my arms, the glow of the obsidian on my neck making it almost appear as if he really was right there behind me, softly breathing into my skin. The lonely nights were good.

Because the nights where I wasn't alone, were nights I spent listening to his agonizing screams from deep within the fortress. Nights where the obsidian worked his torturous wonders and elated itself on the reminders of the excruciating pain that was put onto him. The nights where I couldn't physically bring myself to leave until his squeals had subsided, where I choked on my own tears until I could finally hear him sob again. Sobbing was good, sobbing meant that they had left him to be on his own at last, because sobbing meant that he was weak enough to them, and finally; sobbing meant no more torture.

Sam's shoes had been loud against the obsidian tiling, almost loud enough to distract me from the muffled growls that came from underneath them. Bubbling snarls that indicated that no man would be left alive, not when they breach these walls and definitely not when their body touches the water that surrounds it. He had caved, at last. He'd hastily ushered me inside late at night in the hopes of no person seeing the enormous gates open for the first time in weeks. I had clung to his waist, my knees failing me when he told me I was allowed one visit. No talking about it ever, or I'd see the same fate as my 'little boyfriend'.

He turned another corner as I cursed myself for not remembering the path we took, nor the redstone mechanisms he used to get me through the many disappearing doors. "There'll be a change of guards in 30 minutes, I need you outside in 20, got it?" His face was tense, eyes set sternly onto mine. I nodded, my head felt woozy from all the emotions swirling around it during these past few months, along with the lack of sleep, dehydration, and now adding to the list; the thought of finally seeing him again.

The umpteenth contraption boomed from beneath our feet, an almost rhythmic banging from right beneath our feet, slowly making it towards the wall in front of us. Slowly but surely the barricade was lifted, an immediate cry escaping from my lips as I saw the state of him. He was surrounded by iron bars in a cage in the immediate center of the room, the walls surrounding it bearing enough obsidian to guarantee his permanent stay.

My heart ached physically at the sight of him, my body moving itself to press against the bars hard enough to leave bruises on my ribs, dropping to my knees instantly. I reached my arms through the gaps of the confinement, barely not being able to reach where he laid curled up on the floor. He was facing me, however, his arms were shielding his features from me entirely. Tears upon tears flooded from my face as I screamed for him to look at me. He shot up, his pupils wearing nothing but complete and utter terror. He let out a loud shout, telling me to 'please, don't, please'. I wrapped one hand around the iron bars, steadying myself as I softened my voice, "Dream, it's me, baby, it's me."

He was on one knee, leaning his entire body against the barrier on the other side of the room he had fled to on instinct. His head rested on the metal for a second before instantly shooting up to look at where the voice came from. "Don't do this again, please." He pleaded, his voice was desperate, hopeless. "Anyone's voice but hers."

"Dream?" My voice was as gentle and soft as I could possibly make it while also sounding urgent enough for him to realize I wasn't fake, I wasn't some recording they played to demoralize him. "Dream, please."

His body froze at the sound once again, however, this time he turned his body into the bars. His back.

Oh, god, his back. The white tee he had been wearing the day they took him away was barely existing on his back at this point. The fabric was torn all over, showing the dozens of deep gashes beneath. His skin was practically rotting away from the outside, however, some were new. I had heard him, yesterday, I had heard his agonizing cries for release, which is exactly why I was so adamant about staying by the walls all day today. I had heard them do this to him, and there hadn't been a single thing I did or could've done about it. A sudden, almost traumatizingly powerful scream entered the small room we were in, the obsidian jumping at the opportunity of echoing; anything to prolong our agony. "PLEASE, I'M BEGGING, LET IT STOP."

My body choked up at his words, entirely shaking as his misery took its place again in my heart. I sat down, leaning my head against the metal bars as I let myself sob with him. I glanced up at where he sat on the other side of the cell, his hands pressing against his ears hard enough he could pop an eardrum, his body trembling with utter horror, slowly swaying from side to side. His back was on full display as he sat hunched over, some of the gashes tearing open again at the tension of his skin. Trails of blood soaked whatever was left of his shirt, and I couldn't help but wail out again, my heart physically feeling like it was imploding. "What are they doing to you, baby."

His movements stilled, a good few seconds passed. His arms slowly rose to get a grip on the barricade. As soon as he established the anchor, he pulled himself from the floor, slowly turning to look into my dark corner again. "Dream, it's me, please, c'mere." I pleaded, hope filling my eyes that even after three entire months of mental and physical torture, he would trust me. I reached my arms through the gaps, reaching for him as he came into grasping distance. He stood an inch from my extending fingers, almost gazing down at them tauntingly. He hadn't looked me in the eye yet, keeping his focus completely trained on my hands.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes from my begging hands and looked up at me. "It's you."

"Yes! Yes! It's me, baby!" I almost cheered, my face pressing painfully hard against the bars, my entire body bruising at the constant impact.

His face was completely frozen, utter shock coursing through his features as he tried to figure out what was happening. "They did this to me."

"I know baby, I know." I nodded, confirming his words for him. Rationalizing that he was okay to not trust me, knowing his friends had betrayed him ultimately. "Please, let me touch you, I need to touch you."

He fell to his knees, ushering his arms through the barms to hug me through them. he held my body tightly as his body silently shook with sobs. "They did this to me." I hummed into his ear in response, knowing how lonely he must've felt, how worthless and discouraged. I felt my hands get coated in his blood as I clung to him tightly, crying together in utter misery. "I just wanted to keep it all safe."

I spoke carefully, my voice barely over a whisper, "What do you mean, Dream?" I rested my forehead against the same cross he did, the gaps between the bars barely not big enough to fit my entire head through. They were just there for decoration, really, the thousands of blocks of obsidian and the torture was what really kept him in place.

I watched him sniffle softly, his eyes squeezed closed almost painfully so, the raspy sounds that left his torn throat were a mere ghost of his normally smooth and silky voice. "I just wanted to keep it all safe," A shuddered breath interrupted him. I was clinging to his words, desperately wanting to hear what no one else had dared explain to me; why he was here. "I just wanted to make them happy, keep them safe." He gripped my shirt as he pulled me closer into his body, the warmth I radiated probably being the first source of heat he'd felt in months, besides from the occasional glow of obsidian. "The things they cared about, keep them safe."

A shaky sob left my lips as I let his words sink into my brain, only now realizing what he had done. His trembling voice made the hairs on my neck stand up, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

"All I wanted was to keep them safe and happy," He paused as a sob left his lips again. "One big happy family."

[ethvn-torchio]

Walls Could Talk | Chapter One

a/n: aaaaah!!! guys im just 🥺🥺🥺 i really love this fic so far and i hope yall do too skdjfkjg

Summary:  The year is 1949. Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers are on the trail of HYDRA and Bucky Barnes - and end up unraveling a dark conspiracy along the way...

Warnings: Violence, sexual references

Wordcount: 2.8k (unedited)

AO3 | next chapter

ᴏᴄᴛ 𝟸𝟾, 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟿

ᴏxғᴏʀᴅ, ᴇɴɢʟᴀɴᴅ

Music blared loudly as people danced drunkenly. 

Events like this were perfect, nonetheless, when people were intoxicated and loose tongues during such an event were rampant. 

This just so happened to be the reason why Steve and Peggy were at this particular party - in pursuit of leads on Hydra and the whereabouts of Bucky Barnes.

They arrived a bit late to the party, as it had gotten going. They were able to slip in virtually unnoticed; the outfits they wore made them relatively anonymous, easily blending in with everyone else as they threaded their way through the crowds.

“I’m going to get a cocktail,” Peggy announces. She leans in to whisper in Steve’s ear. “I think I've spotted our target. Keep an eye on that man over at that table on the far left corner. He may be the one we’re looking for. Don’t let him leave.” she leans away, her voice returning to its normal volume. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“A rum and coke, if they have it. Don’t worry about me if they don’t,” Steve responds, his eyes trained on what could potentially be their only lead in weeks.

Converse to the jovial attitude of the room, their target seems to be a bit on edge, glancing around the room anxiously every once and a while. Thankfully, it seems he hasn’t noticed (or simply didn’t know who they were) Steve or Peggy yet.

That was good. As far as anybody was concerned, Peggy and Steve were merely a couple enjoying the party like everyone else.

Steve sighs, deciding to make his way to the dance floor to look a bit less inconspicuous. He gets bumped by dancing people quite a bit on his way there, and he muses to himself, wondering if Peggy would even make it with the drinks still full.

Finally finding a spot that’s less crowded while still having the benefit of seeing their target, Peggy makes her way back over to Steve, drinks in hand.

"Did I miss anything?" She asks, handing him his drink.

"No," he replies, downing the entire rum and coke in one gulp.

They continue to stand there, observing the room and everything that’s going on. As they'd been observing everyone to see if any of them were Hydra agents who were wanted were attending. To their knowledge, they noticed no one that stood out, no one who exhibited suspicious behavior, apart from the fact that some were taking pictures, as any normal bystander would do at a social event such as this.

“He’s still here,” Steve says.

“Good,” she responds. “We’ll have to make our move on him as he's leaving. No reason to cause a scene in here...there could be other enemies here."

Steve puts his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. “It’s been a long week. I'll be glad if we even manage to catch him,"

“Agreed. I just hope we get a bit of a break during the holidays. It’ll be our first Christmas as a married couple, you know.” she points out, gingerly sipping at her drink.

“Hey, yeah, you’re right.” He grins. “I’ll have to get you something nice,”

“Well, you have a little less than two months to find something, so I expect something nice.” She chuckles. “...I’m only teasing, of course. I don’t need anything special.”

Steve laughs right along with her; despite knowing that if she asked for the entire world, he’d figure a way to give it to her.

-----

“We’ve been here…” Peggy pauses, glancing at her watch. “...Four hours now. Has that wallop even moved from his table?”

The crowds had drastically thinned; at this point, Steve and Peggy had been doing a lazy sort of slow dancing, waiting for their target to leave so they could follow him.

“I’m half-convinced he knows something’s up,” Steve mutters. “Maybe he’s trying to wait until everyone but him and his goons are left.”

Peggy hums, leaning her head on his shoulder. “If that’s the case, then we’d be outgunned. If those so-called ‘goons’ at his table are working with him, that’s a five to two match.”

“What are you suggesting? It’s too late to get back up now.”

Peggy doesn’t have an answer for that.

The song ends, and the band then announces they’ll be playing their last song of the evening.

“Evening? More like morning. It’s past midnight,” Peggy grumbles.

“You’re only grumpy because I woke you up early this morning.”

“Yes, but only because waking up someone at five in the morning for a very unfair run against a super soldier is an absolutely valid reason to be grumpy.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Hey, now. You said just a few days that I was allowed to wake you up early,”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “I only said that because I happened to wake up with a certain someone between my legs, Darling. I never said you could drag me out of bed for a jog.” She steps away from him, pulling her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Stay here for a second, I’m going to the powder room. If the target leaves, go after him without me.”

Steve nods, watching her disappear to where the lady’s room is.

The song ends, and with that, everyone seems eager to leave abruptly - which, in Steve’s experience, people leaving like that usually doesn’t end well.

-----

When Peggy gets into the restroom, she nearly bumps into a woman standing right by the door.

Peggy offers her a tight-lipped smile, muttering an apology and brushing past her awkwardly.

“You must be the famous Agent Carter, I presume?” she hears the woman blocking the door ask, a slight German accent accompanying her words.

Peggy freezes for a second, turning around.

“That depends on who’s asking,” Peggy replies, keeping her gaze trained on the woman. Her hand is on her gun in her purse - but she decides to let the woman say her piece.

In response, the woman sneers, laughing humorlessly. “Funny. My employer happens to be asking, in fact.”

While it wasn’t surprising to Peggy, as a lot of people and/or their employers were out to kill her, she did make a mental note of that anyway.

“And who might that be?” Peggy tilts her head, offering the woman a condescending smile.

The woman cracks her knuckles, a cruel smirk on her lips. “It doesn’t quite matter, does it?”

Peggy draws her gun in reply. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

The woman reached to swat the gun out of Peggy's hands, but Peggy grabs her outstretched wrist and used her momentum to yank her to her side.

The woman yells wordlessly, knocking Peggy into the marble sink, making her back protest in pain.

With Peggy stunned for the briefest moment, the woman grabbed at her hair and tried to rip her head down for a stranglehold, the awkward angle making Peggy get trapped in it. Thinking fast considering her finite amount of oxygen, she uses whatever momentum she has left and uses all her strength to make the woman stumble and bump against the wall with a thud.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Peggy takes the heel of her shoe and steps on the woman’s foot as hard as she can, making her lose her grip on Peggy.

Peggy slips out of her grasp, grabbing her gun and forcing the pistol to her throat.

“Hands where I can see them,” Peggy growls, cocking the gun just to scare her into doing it faster.

The woman grunts, gritting her teeth. She grits her teeth until there’s a small, but distinctive cracking noise and the woman begins to foam at the mouth.

“Heil Hydra,” she gasps, slumping over.

Peggy sighs inwardly.

All that work and a potential back issue for another Hydra cyanide tooth.

-----

"The target?" Peggy asks, smoothing out her dress.

"He’s getting ready to leave," Steve replies, jaw set. "I heard something about him having a car ready."

Peggy nods, gun in hand hidden by her purse. "Okay, I'll go see if I can stop him from leaving. Take down his men if you have to. We don't want them following us."

"Got it."

Once Peggy gives a nod of assent, she's off after the target. The man is in the process of gathering his belongings, most likely aiming to leave.

And if he manages to get to his car, they'll have lost their chance at catching him.

She shadows the man, following him out of the building.

He's still with his bodyguard, and Peggy can only make her move with him alone.

Once they hit the parking lot, the man waits around for a moment as one of his bodyguards unlocks his car. Peggy takes the opportunity to make her move, kicking the guard in the back of the head and knocking him unconscious.

The man turns towards Peggy.

"Tsk, tsk, Agent Carter," he muses. "I didn't think you were so eager to get a word in with me."

Peggy smirks, gun trained on the man. "I figured I'd settle things quickly."

“I'm sure you did, Agent. I wasn't quite expecting a run in with you so soon." The man puts his hands out. "But, of course, I'm sure you're used to running up against my men."

Peggy cocks her gun, keeping one eye on their surroundings to make sure neither of them gets killed. "I'd just prefer the chance to talk. You can come quietly or you can-"

"You're right," the man interrupts. "But you're not going to get it. I have to say, Agent Carter, you seem to have some special interest in me."

A warning chill goes up Peggy's spine. "You're hiding vital information."

The man doesn't look surprised. "How astute of you to notice, Agent. And yet...why are you and Captain Rogers so doggedly pursuing me? Is it something...personal, perhaps?"

"It's my job to notice," Peggy replies, ignoring his question. Her finger tightens on the trigger. "I'd prefer to talk, but if you make me, I'll shoot."

The man looks over his shoulder, and she can see the gears in his head turning. He's stalling for time.

"Oh, Agent Carter," the man sighs in an exasperated tone, "You know you won't. And you shouldn't. I'm not a common criminal, you know." and with that, he knocks the gun out of Peggy’s hand, making a run for it.

Peggy curses, picking up her gun and chasing after him, raw adrenaline coursing through her veins.

The man weaves through the streets and alleyways, making some scrapes and slightly obstructed spots.

He slips into an alleyway, but she's not far behind him.

She stumbles down the alleyway, pulse racing, gun still in hand.

Peggy spares a look over her shoulder, and she spots her target at the end of the alleyway.

The man is leaning against the wall, as if in relief, and she knows that as soon as she gets to him, he'll be gone.

She takes off after him, taking off at a sprint.

The man runs once again and she's able to track him. Peggy follows the trail made by the man, especially when he cuts down a different alleyway.

She picks up her pace, and just catches up to the man when he darts into a neighborhood.

She nearly bumps into Steve, who saw him and also began chasing him.

Their target turns the corner, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste, before opening a door and locking it behind him just as Peggy nearly has him.

A frustrated groan escapes Peggy, throwing her head back in annoyance. She sidesteps, gesturing to the door as Steve is down the steps. “If you’d be so kind?”

Steve sighs, wishing he had left his shield somewhere convenient at the party instead of at the hotel room. He braces his shoulder, taking a step back and ramming his body into the wooden door.

The lock breaks, thankfully.

They cautiously walk in the hallway, lit only by noisily buzzing overhead lights. The floor and walls were concrete and the room smelled faintly of rotting wood.

“So,” Peggy says in a low voice, her gun at the ready. "What are the odds that this is a trap?"

"I think we just stumbled into someone’s storage area or something," Steve replies, examining the room. There was nothing but a few empty crates and miscellaneous junk. “Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.”

"It'd be nice if it wasn't. I'd like to get out of these heels sometime today." Peggy says, reaching a doorway. This door, however, was left unlocked. “Though, I think Hydra would keep their doors locked,”

The door leads to an empty hallway, and at the end of it was a staircase, and with any luck, it would lead to their target.

They both pause at the set of steps. “Tripwire,” Steve points out.

“It would probably make the steps fall out from under us,” Peggy says, stepping over it. “Or something else quite-day ruining,”

“Something like that,” Steve replies, followed by muttering something about an ‘Indiana Jones’.

They traverse the winding staircase, making their way up to an open door leading to outside.

Approaching the entryway with caution, they find their target with his hands on his knees, panting and gasping for breath.

He sees Steve and Peggy, and he begins to back away, yelling something in German before rounding a corner.

And before they can catch up to the man, two Hydra agents from the party earlier appear.

The agents were armed and ready to fire, making Steve and Peggy throw themselves to the ground. Bullets fly over their heads, hitting the brick wall behind them.

Both of them scramble to their feet, Steve taking cover by crates, and Peggy using the staircase to her advantage.

Both of the agents advance on their targets, getting closer.

Peggy aims for the one's legs, hoping to interrupt their shots.

Steve leaps out from cover, tackling down and knocking out the one. "Peggy, we gotta go!"

“I can handle him, go! I’ll catch up with you!” she yells.

Steve doesn't hesitate, chasing after the man in the last direction he saw him going.

He soon finds the man in an alley, trying to climb a wire fence. The man spots Steve and he tries to weave around him.

The man's back foot collides into a wet puddle and he stumbles. Steve tries to grab his coat, but he quickly uncaught himself.

The man tries to walk another step, but a gasping sound comes out as he's forced to his knees.

Steve knees him in the back of the head and he drops to the ground in a heap.

Steve grabs him by the collar. "Alright, I'm only going to say this once. Tell me where the Winter Soldier is," he growls.

The man says nothing, glaring at Steve.

He takes something out of his pocket, and Steve realizes all too late that it was a smoke bomb.

He coughs, the acrid smoke invading his airways and making his eyes burn.

It takes a few moments, but the smoke finally clears, and the target is long gone.

Something on the ground grabs Steve's attention.

The target may be gone, but he did leave something behind.

-----

"Well?" Peggy asks expectantly.

Steve sighs. "He got away. Good news is, I'm pretty sure I've gotten a name for him, or at least a pseudonym." He holds up the man's dropped wallet triumphantly.

Peggy smiles lightly. "Well, at least we can say tonight wasn't a total waste. We got some sort of information and we got to go dancing. All in all, I think tonight could've gone worse," Peggy says.

Steve wraps his hand around hers as they begin to walk back to the hotel hand-in-hand. "I don't know, I'd think a night out with you, in general, is a win anyways,"

"So cheesy," Peggy taunts, unable to hide a tiny smile nonetheless.

"You love it,"

"Mmm, sometimes."

Steve makes a dramatic, exasperated noise. "Man down, Peg. I'm deeply hurt now."

Peggy snorts. "Tragic,"

"Nope. I'll never recover from this. You've wounded me. I hope you're happy, Peggy."

Peggy laughs, playfully punching him on the shoulder. "You're so dramatic," she says with a chuckle.

Steve tilts his head. "Well, maybe, but it was worth it to make you laugh anyway,"

"I- you're-..." She trails off with a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I love you."

"I love you too," Steve replies.

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

everything taglist: @return-of-the-simp @thereblogcrusader @stillmourningtonystark​

walls could talk taglist: @deedepee​

end a/n: gawd i was looking for gifs of these two and i was like getting unreasonably 🥺🥺 pls i just love them sm your honor-

anyway 😌 so if you enjoyed feel free to rb/comment! <3

and as always, if you’d like to be tagged, let me know 👀

[sanstropfremir]

the hotly anticipated kingdom episode 7 review is here!!

this episode was a lot less spectacle-y than the last one (the last episode with stages, i mean), and i think that was a good choice for all the groups on the whole to tone it down on the run up to the finale, because at the rate everyone was headed there would be no room to go any higher. i'm very glad that there was actually a collab stage and not just a song swap, especially because it gives a chance for the boys to work together and make friends when they otherwise arent going to be able to interact much. love love love to see them making friends and having fun doing these stages!

i'm not really sure why mnet didnt put the vocal stage this episode, because what on earth else are they going to put in the next episode with it??? i know it's a content stretch but still, it seems like a weird choice to me. anyways, there’s four stages for me to talk about this time and i'm going to try to not ramble out of control, but we’ll see. i did enjoy watching all of these, but we’ve all got favourites and i'm going to rank by which group i liked better out of the two for each stage, and then i put a few conclusions at the end. strap in folks this is another long one.

rap stages

skz + btob + atz

i was actually really surprised at how much i liked this stage. i would not classify myself as a rap fan and believe it or not i actually do not place a lot of importance on lyrics when enjoying music. although i have very high lyric retention and comprehension, i focus more on the sound than the literal words, so a fair amount of rap is swing-and-a-miss in my personal listening. plus when you add a language barrier on top of that, a lot of the nuance and technical skill of it just flies over my head. so i really dont have much to say about the sonic elements this time around, sorry. also.....i know i joked that nobody from the kingdom staff is reading my reviews.....but is someone from the kingdom staff reading my reviews????? i specifically mentioned that i think skz should do an art themed stage and then we got one????? i know i manifested the punk ateez stage but did i manifest this also??? am i just that powerful???

costume

obviously these are pretty basic rap/hiphop stage looks, but the white was a really good choice for visibility’s sake, and also thematically: it reflects the colours in the lighting really well.

i am DYING to know who the designer of minhyuks jacket is. if somebody knows please tell me i love it so much. it looks like some of the recent belted jackets that dior was putting out, but the drawing on the front armscythe piece reminds me of the superm/kim junggi collab for tiger inside. say whatever you want about superm, but you cannot deny that that is not some of the coolest merch on the kpop scene.

loved the traditional korean elements that came through in addition to the western references: the screens, hongjoong’s fan, minhyuk’s big fuckoff brush, the masks, and the sleeves on the dancers at minhyuk’s bit. those are a costume feature from a style of korean traditional masked dance called bongsan talchum. the masks themselves are versions of hahoetal masks, which are used in a very specific archetypal ritual dance in andong. i think these are imae masks, who is the servant/fool archetype that mocks the nobleman and the scholar. i suspect that was a deliberate choice, but i can only speculate.

another point about the masks which is not relevant but maybe a fun fact for people who don’t know. i actually thought at first that they were western theatre half masks, which are a very old style of mask that, like with hahoetal masks, represent a number of archetypes/stock characters. maskwork is a very common training practice in theatre schools, because it teaches body language and control, because half your face is covered and you cannot speak in your own voice (sometimes you cannot speak at all, this is one of the rules of full mask). the tradition of usings masks to portray emotion goes all the way back to the ancient greek chorus, but more commonly people in the west sometimes know it from the italian commedia dell’arte, of which you will have definitely seen some of the character archetypes before. i just find it neat that the same types of art pop up in different places seemingly independently of each other. humans are cool.

set

not much to say here, it's pretty bare with just some propwork. thought the screen use was fun and they used it smartly in a couple of transitions. 

thought changbin’s bit of ‘interrupting’ the artists was cute and fun. there’s obviously a picasso reference there, and the four technicolour paintings are a reference to andy warhol’s pop art silkscreen portraits, most famously of marilyn monroe, but he also did many other celebrities in the 70s and 80s.

lighting

i LOVED this lighting. super bright and fun, lots of use of colour, obviously. the projections were there to enhance the visuals and weren’t distracting in any way. i thought the transition to black and white/ink with minhyuk was smart and had good contrast, it gave a strong rhythm to build back up to for the climax.

sound

bang chan’s ‘spelling colour with a u’ bit had me SCREAMING with laughter. we spell colour with a u normally bang chan, the americans are the ones that are wrong. 

staging

i don’t really have a whole lot to say here, it was pretty straightforward and fun. like i’ve said in previous reviews, i wish they were more conscious of the steadicam direction and would stop showing extended bits of the production crew. at least everyone was wearing full blacks this time.

fun use of the upward angle combined with the groundwork/leg choreo during hongjoong’s verse, that was a highlight for me.

sf9 + tbz + ikon

nothing against this stage, the other one just hit harder for me. bobby is the best rapper on the show and he really carried this stage with his charisma. he’s a fun performer to watch and he knows how to command a space. i'm sure there’s technical notes that people have about the raps themselves, but i'm here looking at visuals as a priority, which i'm sure you’ve all grasped at this point.

costume

these were clearly extensions of these idol’s personal styles, with is a perfectly fine choice, especially for a rap stage where the emphasis is more on authorship. LOVED bobby’s 11yro girl at recess look.

amusing that both rap stages involved paint in some way? loved the backup dancers shooting supersoakers filled with paint at them, but i wish i knew the reason for it? i'm glad i saw this stage first because i would have been underwhelmed by the paint throwing if i had seen this after rainbow bonanza.

set

almost no set at all here, just a few props. i'm not judging as harshly on lack of set this round because these stages are meant to be more about skill than anything else. 

lighting

i loved the projections, i thought they were unobtrusive and i admit, i LOVE outer space themed anything.

i liked that they did more concert lighting and had no projections in the first half to put more focus on the performers, it really highlighted the fact that this stage was about them, and not about anything extraneous.

sound

it was indeed a song.

staging

i do wish there had been a bit more control of the space, because it did look very empty at some parts and they could have staved that off by keeping tighter camera shots. this stage is so fucking big, holy shit.

they really brought their onstage chemistry and they looked like they were having a blast, which FINALLY!! 

i actually really liked hwiyoung’s opening, i think there was a lot of potential there for some sharp contrast work that i wish had been played through a little more, especially with the cool white light overtop the black costumes. it actually reminded me a bit of the intro in the music video from a rapper i do actually listen to, bewhy’s gottasadae.

glad to see some more use of camera effects with the black and white, but why did they do it over the paint throwing? it just made the trajectory of the paint invisible because there was no colour contrast.

performance stages

sf9 + tbz + ikon

ok obviously im gonna have a lot more to say about the performance stages, nobody is surprised there. this one was the better constructed of the two and my personal pick for better stage, but i actually liked watching the both of them equally.

costume

king shit, literally. we love contemporary hanbok in this house. there was good colour and style distinction between the three of them without clashing. 

costume change was fun and neatly blocked, it's pretty common to see backup dancers and chorus hiding quickchanges but i liked how this was a more unusual formation.

taeyang rocking the organza skirt and the big purple eyeshadow, thank you for keeping it cunty as always.

i really liked juyeon’s underlayer look. finally we get a good tbz costume look thats thematically relevant!

set

like all the stages this round, pretty minimal. the setting was almost entirely established through the costumes and the projections, which is some really good designwork. it's pretty much just the litters (the lifted chairs they entered on), and some smaller props. they managed to not make the stage feel empty because there was a lot of projection visuals to compensate, which is difficult to do without being overbearing, but i think they mostly pulled it off.

i originally thought it was gonna be weird to try and mesh the traditional korean architectural aesthetic with the weird mnet deco, but i ended up not noticing it as much as i thought i would.

lighting

like i just said, projections very well done and do a fantastic job of conveying setting without being overly distracting. like with the atz/skz/btob rap stage there’s a really broad range of colour use here that they offset by brightening and properly fill lighting the faces so you can actually see what’s happening.

the use of the strobing lasers and more concert style lighting fit really well with the change in the music from traditional instrument sounds to electronica and the more hiphop/isolated movements.

sound

i liked it well enough! i think it had a good arc that we can see echoed through the rest of the piece, like previously stated in the lighting and movement style. 

staging

like i mentioned with the quickchange, there was some really interesting formations using the backup dancers here, especially as a lead toward/away from the camera

having the three of them enter on litters; again, literal king shit, love to see it.

this has a pretty clear narrative that doesnt really need an external explanation, which is good. i have to assume that the burning of the paper with 妃 (concubine) is intended to be a gesture of ‘burning’ the love out of their hearts, but that was the only thing i'm still confused on. this may very well turn out to be a reference to a specific story that i just have no idea what it is, but we’ll see once the subs are out!

i loved juyeons solo bit with the alcohol drinking and the table flip, that was the choreographic highlight for me. i just really wish he would use the other muscles in his face more often. we know youre pretty, you dont have to blue steel your way through all your performances!! take a page out of donghyuk’s book and make some ugly faces, it's good for you!!

i though taeyang’s swordwork was fine, but since i do actually have a decade of sword training i'm very judgemental. it's not bad, he obviously has practiced with the weapon and he knows how to control it, but he doesn’t have the same understanding as someone who has trained with a sword as a weapon and not just as a prop. if we hadn’t seen another stage with swordwork in it i probably wouldn’t have brought this up (that's a lie, i still would have brought it up, i have a third dan), but you can really see the difference between how minhyuk moves with his sword and how taeyang moves. a lot of this has to do with the proper weighting of the blade, which i mention briefly in my second episode review in btob’s section (and also this ask here, where i talk about properly weighted weapons in relation to the gun choreo in sf9’s and ateez’s previous stages); minhyuk is likely using a ‘real’ sword (it’s blunted but still made using proper methods and materials), and taeyang is using a cheaper-made replica (unless you’re doing full contact striking a LOT there’s no way a properly made blade breaks like that. also you would never tape it together hello??? respect the blade). if you know what you’re looking for, you can tell from the movements themselves when someone has training. minhyuk did a load of real training for a film where he was a swordsman, and you can tell; the sword is an extension of his arm, all the movements lead with the tip of the blade first, because that’s your first, your fastest, and your most dangerous point. you do 90% of your cutting with the first eight inches of blade, but it takes a lot of specific training to get your hands and arms to a place where that kind of movement is possible. taeyang’s movements are driven from his hands, which is unsurprising, because that’s where he’s used to his extensions stopping. the tip follows rather than leads. wow this got insanely sidetracked i hope you liked this crash course on swordwork.

this is pretty much what i expected to see from this unit. these three groups all have standout soloists, so i wasn’t surprised to see these three boys as the picks. juyeon and taeyang especially, theyre both from groups that are more likely to do experimental stages and choreography that highlights them as soloists and skilled dancers.

skz + btob + atz

this was a letdown from ateez’s last two stages, because they knocked those out of the park, but it's only fair that they have a bit of a fall. that being said, i did really enjoy watching this for its sheer ridiculousness; i’m forgiving the wolf concept this time because well, it’s wolf. you can't cover wolf and not do a wolf concept, that’s against the law. also, like i’ve said before, i'm all for dark concepts IF you give them thematic weight. is it on the nose? yes. is it thematically relevant? also yes. is it dumb? also also yes, but that’s never stopped a single kpop group in the history of ever.

costume

friendship restored with ateez stylists, rivalry started with skz stylists. the fur shoulder fluffs??? stupid and i love them. perfect in every way. however i keep seeing the same fucking costumes on the skz boys and i will come directly for the stylists at jype if they dont get their shit together. be! more! creative!!!

i really really wish they had gone more 2013 kpop with it, we need more of that ugly ridiculous styling. peniel was actually pretty close, with the overly long tunic and those yellow lenses. very vixx on and on (yes i know they were vampires from outer space, let me live)

i actually thought the wolf gloves were fun? the small bits of uv paint actually worked instead of looking out of place, and i'm glad they put them on wooyoung because the uglier an outfit, the better he pulls it off. 

set

same dice, just the long table and the camo net at the beginning, which i thought was unnecessary. the table was useful for levels though, so happy to see they utilized that.

lighting

there is so much happening all the time. lots of lasers. it's definitely aiming for camp territory, and i dont actually hate it as much as i did on my first watch. it actually wasn’t as dark as i thought either, because its mostly lit with blue and amber. but it doesn’t really have that great of an arc and its not really that good on the whole.

the projections are a bit much for me, but that’s only when i'm actually looking at them. true to form, i didn’t even notice the excess of red slashes until like my fourth rewatch because i was too busy watching the performers.

sound

rookie exo my beloved. the original wolf goes so hard for absolutely no reason, so i’m not knocking this stage for being ridiculous. in fact it should have been more ridiculous. i think they did a fine job updating the song for a.....less 2013 sound. 

i like that they didn’t bother to live sing the stage even though they recorded vocals for it, it gave them all a chance to actually focus on just the dance.

that being said, i am kind of missing all the adlibs from the original. but even though there’s some strong vocalists in this unit, they aren’t made of the same stuff as baekhyun, luhan, chen, AND d.o.

i literally just realized that peniel had already debuted when this song came out AND is technically exo’s senior because btob debuted like two weeks before exo officially did.....oh no

staging

choreographically this feels a lot more like the skz stages that we’ve seen rather than the ateez ones, so i'm curious as to who the choreographer was. 

the tricking was definitely more ridiculous in this one, but i can't really say any of it was there for no reason because it all had elements of fighting in it. the scale of the tricks was quite large though and not very well blended with the rest of the choreo, which ending up making them look awkward. i thought it was a nice detail that they shone a green toplight on the dancers that made up the cliff wooyoung climbed up so that it looked like there was grass on it. cute.

the blocking is lacking a lot of fluidity, and i think that’s partially the scale of the tricking and also the editing, because this editing is TERRIBLE. there’s so much cutting, why is there so much cutting!! haven’t we already learned that longtakes are the best for this???

there’s a lot of stuff here that had good potential but could have been pushed a little farther. i feel like i say this for every mediocre stage, but what can i say, i'm good at constructive criticism. 

they should have given more showcase to the tree and the scratching arms; it's the most iconic move!! i also wish they had kept some kind of iteration of the different unit ‘leaping’ in over the exiting one, i always thought that part of the original choreo was really fun and did a lot for establishing them as wolves. 

i LOVED peniel entering with all those backup dancers in chains, thats some fucking iconic shit. very ‘im the alpha wolf,’ which is valid because he’s like at LEAST five years older than everyone else on the stage. i wish that instead of being the backup dancers it was the actual members, because THAT would have been an image. theyre all wearing harnesses and collars anyways, just clip em in! he’d be like one of those dogwalkers!

me last week: specifically talking about how krump is an uncommon style in kpop and it's very hard to get right kingdom, throwing the manifesting dodgeball at me for the third time: here would you like a KRUMP SOLO?

if you didnt believe me before that krump is hard to get right, i sure hope you do now. peniel did fine, but you can see how easily you can veer off into looking ridiculous.

some conclusions

i mentioned this really briefly in an ask i got earlier today, but i do think it's important to establish that the two performance units are doing two different types of performances. i can understand why people are underwhelmed by the atz/skz/btob stage and wanted it to be less of a traditional kpop dance stage and more like the experimental stages we’ve been seeing for the last few weeks. and i agree! i think they could have done more with it. but i also think that this kind of stage was a good choice for this particular subunit. unlike with the sf9/tbz/ikon unit, there are not really any standout technical soloists in ateez or skz. ateez has, in my opinion, the highest ratio of dancers with actual stage presence of any of the 4th gen groups ive seen. they’re at a solid 75% for any given performance, and occasionally they can bump that higher depending on the stage. that high of a stat is rare. it's extremely rare for a group to have all its members have good stage presence (i can think of like, maybe two or three?), and to get over 50% is pretty damn impressive. but ateez’s strength isn’t in how good they individually are as dancers, but it's in how well they work together. there’s a reason why they put FIVE of them in the performance unit. one of the first things i said about ateez to hanya is ‘i love wooyoung but he doesn’t stand out when he's not centre.’ which is for good reason!! he’s not supposed to! they all willingly give up centre and take it back when they need to, because they have that charisma. there’s a very cohesive push and pull to watching ateez that speaks to their strengths as performers. dancing in a group where you are all meant to be equal is a very different skill than just being a talented soloist. you have to understand what to prioritize in a different way. taemin dances differently with shinee that he does in his solo career, especially since they’ve been back. he understands when to step back; more often than not i find key to be the standout dancer in shinee choreo.

this is a very long winded way of saying that wolf was a good choice for them even though the stage didn’t turn out as well as it could have. also the fact that they made a cohesive performance at all, with a week of rehearsal and while working with essentially strangers is a feat and speaks to all of their skill at their job. performing in a group is a huge part of kpop, and they did call this the performance stage, and not the dance stage.

i'm not entirely sure on what the breakdown is on why each of the subunits were formed. i know the team sizes are extremely uneven, with sf9/tbz/ikon clocking in at 26 people and atz/skz/btob clocking in at 17 (i'm not counting changsub because he's not there and probably has a scheduling conflict), which is like, a whole extra group of difference. but atz/skz/btob utilizing their whole groups for each of the units (5/3/1 for performance, 1/3/1 for rap, and 1/1/1 for vocal, for 7/7/3 total), verses sf9/tbz/ikon only bringing out six people for these two stages and then six for the vocal stage is......weird? that's over half of their group number that’s not performing. i do think the groups brought out their standout performers and made smart choices with the stages but the balance still strikes me as odd. i do wish tbz had actually done some group choreo because they are very strong group performers and it would have been fun to watch.

ateez really played the long game here, good job boys. teaming up with the group who gets the highest fan votes AND the group with the strongest technical skills? i see you.

i think this is probably too wild of an assumption and is only based on circumstantial evidence but.....i think hongjoong might actually have a lot more creative sway than i previously thought. all the stages he’s been a part of have been very well designed, and i know he provided suggestions for the two ateez stages prior to this... i’m probably thinking too much. 

ok you know what i know there were some other points in my brain somewhere but this is already 4000 words so i’m going to stop. if i remember anything else its probably gonna end up in the answer to some of the asks i’m inevitably going to get because i think my opinions on these ones are a little bit more controversial, whoops!

not entirely sure if ill do an extensive review for next week’s stage, because i'm not really a ballad fan and i dont really do vocal reviews, but i could do a quick one. i guess it also depends on what else they put in the episode. we’ll see!!

[babbushka]

I NEED PASSOVER PROMPT ONE

(we know I love Paterson and am a sucker for anything written for him but you can decide who you’d like to write it for 🥺)

A/N: Thank you so much for asking!! Pat is such a mensch, I couldn’t resist jumping on this prompt :) I hope you enjoy it! 

1.4k, no warnings just fluff and humor :) Jewish!Paterson x Jewish!Reader

He listens to the rhythmic sound of the wipers, as they steadily swish away a light rain that pitter-patters on the windshield. Paterson drives through the winding upstate New Jersey roads, you in the passenger seat next to him, and his friend Doc the bartender, in the backseat. Paterson had celebrated Pesach with you for many years now, even before you were married and he could only call you his girlfriend, but the addition of his friend is a new one.

Doc had mentioned off-handedly a couple days ago that he knew the Jewish holiday was coming up, but had never experienced it for himself. Paterson brought it up on one of his nightly visits for his single beer, and Doc had been interested enough to agree to join you and him for Seder. 

Now though, as they’re all on their way to Paterson’s mom’s house, Doc realizes that he has no idea what he’s getting himself into, especially as Paterson is explaining it to him, prompting him to ask,

“What do you mean there’s fifteen steps?”

You chuckle just a little at the surprise in his voice, and even Paterson’s dimples make an appearance.

“I think last year it was three hours before we even got to eat.” He says, his eyes flicking up to Doc’s in the rearview to give him a friendly smile, “But that was because my cousin kept interrupting.”

“Three hours?” Doc groans,  “Pat tell me you’re joking. I haven’t eaten all day!”

To prove his point, a loud stomach growl sounds from the backseat, and Paterson’s smile turns into a full on chuckle of his own, as you’re doing your best to not encourage him too much over in your seat. In your lap is a big Tupperware of matzah toffee, a coveted recipe that you’re tempted to let Doc try now to hold the poor man over.

“No one told you to fast.” Paterson says, his voice soft and only a little teasing, “Only the first-born in every family fasts the night before Passover.”

“Wish I had known that now, I’m starving.” Doc grumbles, his normal steady mood shifting into something a little exasperated when he wonders aloud, “What even are these fifteen steps?”

“Do you really want to know or are you just asking to ask?” You ask, finally breaking your silence. You love telling people all about Seder, love talking about the holiday. It’s one of Paterson’s favorites too, and his eyes practically light up at the thought of getting to teach his friend.

“No I want to know.” Doc scratches the back of his neck, “I did some reading but…”

“Well, it starts with the Kadesh.” You let Paterson take the lead, loving the way the deep rumble of his voice soothes your ears. He explains, “It’s a blessing over the first cup of wine, and to commemorate and sanctify the holiday. Then there’s the Urchatz, a ritual hand-washing to cleanse ourselves before we begin.”

Paterson drives steadily, carefully through the trees, remembering how he had always dreaded the next step. You pinch at his nose playfully when it crinkles up, his expression endearing.

“Next comes the Karpas, the first food that we get to eat although it isn’t really…food food. It’s a piece of green vegetable, I think we’re using parsley this year?” Paterson asks, looking at you. Sometimes you used celery, but Paterson’s mom liked to switch it up every other year. You nod, and he continues, “We dip it in salt water to represent the tears our people shed while enslaved in Egypt.”

“Damn, you guys don’t mess around huh?” Doc lets out a laugh at that, and you’re inclined to agree.  

“Trust me, it gets way more dramatic.” You say, while Paterson tries to figure out how to find the detour for some road work ahead of him, “Then there’s the Yachatz, where the first piece of matzah is broken in half. The larger piece of matzah is called the afikomen, and is hidden somewhere in the house for the kids to find at the end.”

“Aw that’s pretty cute actually.” Doc smiles, and Paterson beams. He can’t wait until he has children of his own to go running through the house, wreaking havoc.

“Some families do it where the kids have to steal it off the Seder leader’s lap without them noticing, which is also really funny.” You nod, because you also agree, “But it usually distracts the kids during the Maggid, so we personally don’t do it.”

“The Maggid?”

“It’s the longest part of the Seder, this is when we read the long and drawn out story of our Exodus.” Paterson explains, “All the plagues, the slaughter of the first born – ”

“They get slaughtered and they have to fast?” Doc interrupts with raised eyebrows, “That sucks for firstborns.”

“Then we wash our hands again with the Rachtzah,” Paterson only continues with a smirk, glad that his older brother Paul has to wear the brunt of that responsibility. Nevermind that they’re twins, he’s older by two minutes, “And we’re not allowed to talk, it’s a silent hand-washing.”

“Oh do we get to eat now?” Doc’s eyes light up, as his stomach growls again.

Successfully navigating away from the road-block, you and Paterson exchange an apologetic glance.

“No,” He shakes his head, “Then we break the second matzah while saying the Motzi.”

“And then we eat the Maror, the bitter herb.” You add on, “This signifies the bitterness of slavery. Again. But after that we get to eat the Hillel sandwich.”

“Oh thank god – ”

“It’s bitter herb sandwiched between two pieces of matzah.” Paterson squashed Doc’s hopes before he even has a chance to get them too high.

“Dammit!” Doc laughs, feeling like this is the dinner that never ends. He isn’t entirely wrong, but there is relief on his face when Paterson pulls up to the drive-way, and you unbuckle your seat belt, turning over your shoulder to smile at him.

“After that you get to eat though.” You wink.

“For real this time?” Doc asks cautiously, making Paterson nod with a grin.

“For real.” He clips a yarmulke to his hair like the good boy he is, “And I promise it’s worth it.”

The three of you get out of the car, and you make sure that you have everything that you need before going in. Doc looks a little hesitant, eyeing the house that already has music and happy chatter sounding from the slightly open window.

“What do we do after we eat?” Doc asks, his hands in his pocket.

“The kids hunt for that piece of matzah, we do a final blessing after we eat called the Barech, invite a ghost in to come hang out with us and protect us, and then we sing songs.” You offer him a hand for him to hold, knowing that he must feel a little intimidated by it all.

Seder was intimidating for a lot of people, even those who had celebrated it for years. But then again, rituals are meant to be shared with family and friends, and you’re just glad Doc wanted to see for himself what it was all about.

“Did you say ghost?” Doc immediately blinks, making you laugh – it really was a silly part of the tradition, but an important one nonetheless.

“His name is Elijah, he’s really nice.” Paterson locks the car door and “When Elijah leaves though, we drink another glass of wine and dance. But by that point usually everyone is trashed enough that we all black out on the couch. It all depends.”

Approaching the front step, Doc takes in a deep breath. You slip him a piece of matzah toffee that he happily accepts, eagerly eating the dessert. His face lights up when he tastes how delicious it is, and he can’t help but smile.

“This sounds like one helluva dinner Pat, I gotta say.” Doc sounds almost impressed, that something so elaborate continues to be observed year after year after year.

“Are you ready to find out for yourself?” Paterson asks, gently nudging Doc with his elbow in a friendly gesture.

“If there’s more of this,” Doc points to the matzah toffee, “Then I’m more than ready.”

The three of you grin and Paterson steps through the threshold with your hand securely held in his, as the family welcomes you all and gives a most warm welcome to Doc, who finds that by the end of Seder after four full glasses of wine on an empty stomach, it is one helluva dinner indeed.

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

Taggin’ some Paterson lovin’ friends! @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @sunflowersinthesnow @steeevienicks @the-unmanaged-mischief @chapterhappygirl 

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 1

Introduction

Surprise! A new story, new characters, inspired by all the lovely authors of tumblr who do BBU or WRU writing :) enjoy!!

CW: BBU and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol, party themes/setting, plane mention, college setting, breakup mention, tattooing/tattoo shop mentions (let me know if I missed anything!)

Nicko and Salem had never really been too close. They lived a few houses away from each other in high school, had some of the same classes, and were tied in with the same friend groups. They were friends, as much as you could be friends with someone you only hang out with cause they’re close by, but not close by any means. Salem felt a certain way about Nicko, he always had, a way that told him to keep himself a safe distance from him. Maybe it was his recklessness, the way he did awful, often mean, things seemingly on impulse, just because it popped into his head and he wanted to follow through. He was unreasonably harsh and manipulative and just attractive and charismatic enough to not suffer the repercussions.

Because of this, Salem wasn’t really entirely sure how he had ended up living with the kid in his last two years of college. Both him and Nicko had gotten into the state college and were both art majors (Nicko was in visual arts and Salem in music), so they had been around each other since they both moved into the dorms as smooth faced freshmen. Nicko was on the football team for the first year and a half, then he got kicked from the team. At that point he hadn’t spoken to Salem for a while, so he never figured out the real reason why. He heard gossip, that Nicko was caught doing drugs, that he had slept with the coach’s daughter, that he’d been fighting, but it was impossible to know if it was the truth. On one hand, Salem wouldn’t exactly be surprised if it was something like that, but on the other hand he didn’t want to believe that he was that bad. After that, he focused on his studies. Salem saw him around campus working in sketch books or on a canvas, sometimes he would show up to a class covered in paint and tired, like he’d been working on something all night. He was also doing an internship at a tattoo shop, he got paid a lot to stab people with needles, and he genuinely enjoyed it. Plus, Salem had seen some of the stuff he’d made, and he certainly had talent, even though he was sort of a dick.

During that time, freshman and sophomore year, Salem was pretty preoccupied in his own respects, so these were the only things he really knew about Nicko. Those two years had been difficult, looking back on it he was surprised he was able to pass all of his classes with what he had going on. There was a messy relationship, horrible breakup, and he used it mostly to put into his music. He wrote some of his best pieces about it, so in a way he was thankful. He was better off now, anyway.

Now, he and Nicko lived together off-campus, along with three other art majors who neither of them knew too well, but rent was cheaper with more people and they were easy enough to get along with. School was almost over, it was their last stretch of their senior year, and things were good. Salem’s future was looking promising, he’d already been speaking to different producers and composers who he’d been set up with by his teachers, as soon as he graduated he would have enough saved up to buy his own place, closer to where he would work, on his own. Life was so simple, Salem was happy and hopeful and for once, things made sense. He just had to get through winter break, then the last few grueling months would crawl by, and then he would be free.

But then winter break came and went, Salem went back north to visit his parents, and when he got back things suddenly got...complicated.

Nicko would insist over and over again to Salem that they had “talked about this!” and he tried to persuade him by saying “you said it could be cool!” every time they talked about it afterwards. Salem told him that bringing it up as a concept while they were getting drunk after midterms was not talking about it.

What happened was someone had read an article somewhere, maybe it was from a click bait thing on Instagram or a frightening news article on facebook, and had brought it up while they were all throwing back beers before they went out to their own respective parties. It was about something Salem had only heard hushed whispers about online, he wasn’t even sure how legit it was because of how rarely he heard about it: boxies. The word made him cringe every time one of them threw it out drunkenly, like it was something cute. If what Salem had heard about it was true, they were essentially criminals who were brainwashed (or trained, as they liked to call it to sound more appealing) instead of taking another sentence. Box Boys, Box Babes, they had more gross marketing names, all involving a box. Supposedly it was because they were notoriously shipped to you conveniently in a box right to your front porch, as if they were an Amazon package. Yes, living human beings stuffed inside of a box and left on your porch, just waiting to be let out so they can start doing whatever it is they’ve been retrained to do. And somehow it was all completely legal, if you did it through certain companies.

So, that’s what they’d been talking about, when Salem looked back on it, all he remembered from the conversation was something like:

“Dude, how the fuck is owning a boxie legal at all? I was just reading this article and-”

"Those are like, those servant things you order online or whatever? I've heard about those, I think."

“That’s not the point, Nicko. I’m talking about how it’s fucking crazy this is allowed.”

“I think it’s cool. I mean if it were me I’d rather get to live in a house as like...a maid or whatever than go to jail. Jail sucks. I dunno, I think it’s cool. What about you, Cobain?”

Salem hated when Nicko called him that, he’d been doing it since freshman year, when one of Salem’s songs was suddenly being passed around the school in a youtube video he’d forgotten he’d posted. Nicko told him that it was edgy, that he sounded like Kurt Cobain. That would have been fine, Salem really wouldn’t have cared, if Nicko hadn’t personally told him before how much he hated Nirvana, how the music sucked. So every time he used the nickname it was patronizing, a little stab at him.

Still, Salem merely looked up from his laptop, he was probably checking back on his flight information for going back home, maybe checking to see if his test scores were posted yet, and scowled at him. “Yeah, Picasso, I think that owning a person is super cool.” He’d been sarcastic, obviously so, and Nicko knew that.

And still, here he was, telling Salem that he’d “agreed” to getting this boxie. Salem would disagree every time, and Nicko would just roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders and he would get away with it. He was always getting away with shit, it was really starting to piss Salem off.

The day Salem got back from break it had been snowing. The drive back from the airport was stressful, it was late, Salem just wanted to go home and sleep. Going back to the town he grew up in was draining, sometimes. It reminded him of complicated times and hopelessness. He wanted to forget all about those feelings, things were going good, he could be hopeful now, and going back home made those feelings a little...muted, for a while. So he figured he’d go home, get into bed, sleep it off, and get back to being hopeful in the morning.

Only he couldn’t do that, because of course Nicko was having a party. He usually called it “having people over”, because he was trying to be an adult now and that’s what adults usually said, but when it consisted of beer pong and body shots that didn’t seem like the right term. The lawn was covered in cars, so was the driveway, so were both sides of the street directly outside. Salem had to park halfway down the block, get his suitcase and guitar, and walk down the street. To his own house. He wanted to break Nicko’s face.

When he walked into the house, the air was thick with smoke and reeked of pot and sweat and booze. The living room was mostly empty, Salem could see from the front door that almost everyone was in the kitchen playing some sort of drinking game or outside. The house was a mess, almost all the lights were off so Salem couldn’t see the full damage yet, but he could tell that he wasn’t going to like it when he did. He shuffled into the house, kicking away cups and bottles as he walked past them. Part of him wanted to just turn around and get back in his car and drive far away, never come back and never see Nicko or this shitty house again. But he had to stick to his plan, he had to play it safe here.

“Salem!” He snapped his head up, in the direction of the voice, sighing when he saw it was Nicko’s girlfriend, Aurora. Or Rory, as most people called her. She had dyed her hair a bright, shocking blue since Salem had last seen her, if he remembered correctly she had it a pale pink before. Her makeup was dark and heavy, like it usually was, making her eyes look all that more intense and striking. Except for right then, because she was very obviously high, her eyes hooded and lazy. She was sitting on the couch, a boy who looked a lot younger than her on his knees right in between her legs. He looked even more fucked up than she did, glaring hard at the floor and swaying slightly as she raked her fingers through his messy, dark hair. As Salem approached them, the kid flinched away from him and snapped his eyes up to look at him. He didn’t pay too much attention to him, too distracted by his anger. Rory had to shout over the music just a little when she started talking again. “I was wondering when you were gonna be back! How was your tri-”

“Where the fuck is Nicko?” He interrupted. His hand was tight around the handle to his guitar case, he could feel his heartbeat in his closed fist.

Rory gawked at him, then her crimson painted lips turned up into a lazy smile and she laughed. “Wow, someone’s in a mood,” she teased, “why don’t you have a drink? Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Rory. Tell me where he fucking is!”

Rory turned her attention downwards, toward the rough looking boy on the floor in front of her. Salem followed her gaze, realizing that he was now shaking, pressing his thin frame against Rory’s leg like he couldn’t get close enough. He was looking at Salem’s shoes, his face twisted up in a nervous frown. Rory instantly leaned close to him, hands on his cheeks and lips against his jaw, saying something in a real low, soft voice. She was calming him down, soothing him, Salem noticed, because he had frightened him.

Salem realized, then, how angry he sounded, shouting and cursing, and he sighed to himself. He decided he’d be better off just going to bed, putting in earplugs and waiting until the morning to deal with the problem. It’s not like he’d really be able to fight Nicko anyway, he was so much taller and he’d been on the football team and honestly Salem just wasn’t equipped for fighting. So he turned away from both of them and made his way down the hallway, to his room. He locked his door and set his things down, then he promptly stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.

The next morning, Salem was surprised to wake up to a clean, quiet house. He walked down the hallway, expecting at any second to see all of the trash pushed into a corner somewhere, he didn’t think Nicko would have cleaned up himself, unprompted. But it was clean all the way through, and he was impressed when he walked into the living room and saw Nicko, decked out in all black clothes and black boots, relaxing on the couch with his keys clutched readily in his hands, like he was leaving. He was speechless, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he approached him.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Nicko teased, tilting his head back and looking him up and down, “how was your trip?”

“Uh...good.” Salem answered, voice still gruff from sleep.

“Morning, Salem!”

He turned to see Rory standing there in fishnets and an oversized hoodie, dramatically tall heels wrapped around her ankles, making Salem wonder how she was standing straight. One time, when Nicko was busy doing an art piece or working on school work, he couldn’t remember now, she and Salem had been in the kitchen alone and Rory told him that she liked to wear tall heels because Nicko likes when she’s short and it entertains her to bother him. She said the best part of her day sometimes is irritating Nicko.

Behind Rory, standing with his head dipped downwards and his shoulders slightly hunched, was the same scared looking kid from the night before. He was allowing Rory to pull him along by his wrist, focusing on his shiny black boots, ones that he looked rather unsteady in, like he wasn’t used to tall shoes. His thin, oversized black tee shirt hung off of one boney shoulder, showcasing a few tattoos up on his collar bone and neck. They looked fresh, like they were healing. After Salem scanned the rest of his body (why was he wearing shorts and a tee shirt!? It was snowing outside!), he had healing tattoos all over, scattered every few inches. Were they all new? Salem didn’t know much about tattooing, but he didn’t think that was safe.

Salem didn’t realize he’d been staring at him, silent, until Rory cleared her throat, redirecting his attention to her. “He’s cute, huh?” She smiled, smacking her gum at him. “Nicko picked out a good one.”

“I...What?” Salem muttered.

“Our boxie,” she explained, holding his limp arm up in the air and waving it a little, making the kid flinch hard, “You were looking at him. Isn’t he precious?”

Now, he was shrinking in on himself more, looking rather embarrassed and ashamed, his face hidden mostly by his floppy hair. Salem frowned at him, then at Rory, then at Nicko, who was smiling smugly.

“You didn’t.”

Nicko laughed at him, and thus began the famous “You said it would be cool” argument. Salem was so shocked in the moment he wasn’t able to form a proper argument, so Nicko took both Rory and the boxie out the door and into the snow with him.

So that’s when things got complicated. Well, not necessarily right away, but that was the thing that kickstarted it all. It was a total snowball effect, where one bad thing happens and it just gets worse and collects more velocity and severity the longer it goes on, until it’s huge and it can’t be stopped and it flattens a poor snowboarder or a small city. Salem had to finish school, he had to start living his life and building his career, he didn’t have time to worry about huge snowball problems. That could ruin everything, all of his hard work and pain would have been pointless. All because Nicko decided to get a fucking boxie.

[x-ia-n]

━ sun&moon.

➞ including: kei tsukishima, gn!reader

overview: in which ❛your hearts are connected under the same sky.❜ ↦ sun&moon by nct127

word count: 4.3k

➼ haikyuu masterlist

↳ main masterlist

↦ fluff, tsuki is sometimes uncharacteristically soft, alcohol consumption [legal age!], timeskip

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

he always found it cute how deep your blush would get whenever he called you his star. even more so when he would refer to you as his sun. 

granted, you aren’t dating. just friends, best friends. best friends who knew each other since high school and kept in touch despite both your hectic schedules as university students. as you watch the snow gently falling through a window, you’re taken back to the memories, bitter and sweet, that come along with winter.

you start to remember your first heartbreak...

it didn’t take long for him to realize what was happening, as you barely held a smile when you walked in the gym. he saw the first signs of pain and disappointment flash through your eyes. he and yamaguchi excused themselves and walked you out the door, and you bursted into tears.

he let you cling onto him as you blabbered on about how the person you were dating dumped you out of nowhere; the freckled boy gently rubbing circles on your back. you went on for a few minutes, explaining everything to your two best friends. yamaguchi went back inside to get you some water when you finally calmed down. you lifted your head from the blond’s chest, sniffling slightly.

tsukishima is awkward when it comes to feelings in general, but that didn’t stop him from trying to comfort you after your break up. he draped his volleyball jacket over you, shielding your reddened and puffy face from others. tilting his head, he says, “you look like an idiot crying over someone who clearly doesn’t appreciate you.”

yamaguchi peered out the gym building doors to see you stare up at the blond like he hung the moon in the sky. he knew what you feel for tsukishima, and he made you aware that he was aware. he slowly closed the gym doors, trying not to make any noise, and politely asked yachi and the managers-in-training to subtly guard the door.

the freckled teen has been your biggest supporter from day one, and he’ll be damned if anything ruined this moment for you.

he found it cute how you would hide behind your hand whenever you’d try to reassure them both that you’re fine.

...and the first time you saw him shatter.

the whistle blew, and the cheer of the crowd nearly left you deaf. the crowd wasn’t cheering for them, though. karasuno lost an important game, and you saw the faces of the team, all looked so heartbroken. you couldn’t blame them, they worked so hard and-

if there’s one thing you take pride in, is knowing what either of your best friends are feeling. yamaguchi has tears in his eyes while tsukishima… his face is void of emotion, but you can see the pain and guilt flickering in his eyes. you can feel it in your gut that he’s blaming himself. 

you ran down the flight of stairs just in time to see the team exit into the main lobby. you glanced at your green haired friend first, who then nodded at you, telling you he was alright. you turned to tsukishima, and promptly held out a hand. he paused, his golden-brown eyes swept across your face then to your outstretched hand. you swear you could hear the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options. 

the blond gingerly took your hand in his and let you drag him somewhere secluded, somewhere you’re both positive no one would come across by accident. “it’s not your fault.” you said, slightly squeezing his hand. he was looking anywhere but you.

he sputtered out, “if i had blocked it properly then-” 

“you managed to slow it down, which gave karasuno a fighting chance. kei,” his eyes snapped up to meet yours, an unreadable expression graced his features. it was so uncommon for either of you to use each other’s birth names despite being so close. 

“kei, it’s not your fault.” your voice softened, and he felt his walls break. tears glistened his eyes, which he hastily blinked away. you slowly took off his glasses, hooked them at the collar of your shirt, and placed your free hand on the back of his neck. he dropped his head on the crook of your neck, and took a deep breath. 

one of the things he appreciated at that moment is how you never mentioned the tears you felt hit your skin, or the broken sobs you heard escape his lips. you didn’t even mention how he trembled in your arms as he let out his frustration, anger, guilt, pain—  his everything. you held him together as he slowly fell apart. “i’m sorry” he muttered.

you let out a chuckle. “if you’re apologizing for displaying emotions, i’m taking out your kneecaps.” 

you beamed a bright smile up at him as he pulled away. he let you clean his face with a handkerchief, and place his glasses back on his face for him. tsukishima ruffled your hair, and led you both back to the bus where the rest of the team were waiting for the both of you.

he found it cute how you tried extra hard to cheer him and yamaguchi up. that, and how you never pulled your hand away from his.

your mind drifted to the time you first felt your heart skip a beat because of him.

two of you were stupid and young, and you somehow managed to convince tsukishima to go on a little trip with you. it was spontaneous, and unfortunately, yamaguchi was sick, but he made you promise to buy everything that reminded you of him; not that he needed to, you were planning to do just that. you three have your licenses, but you decided to use tsukishima’s car as it was more spacious, leaving both of you a lot of room to lay back and sleep. 

you both didn’t have plans on where to go, your recklessness speaking to him that you both ‘should let fate decide where the road will take you’. 

the road led you to a small village, celebrating a local festival. you remember being so excited that you dragged him to every historical building, every booth that peaked your interest. a narrow stone path at the edge of the village led to a small flower field on a small cliff, one you took great pleasure in being. 

he picked a dainty, yellow flower and placed it in your ear. “there,” he whispers, and your breath catches in your throat. your heart is pounding in your ears as you silently prayed to any and every divine being that the moonlight is dim enough for the blush in your cheeks to go unnoticed. after what seems like both seconds and hours, he says the only thing that could ruin the moment.

“now the bees will go after you.”

you huffed out, hitting him in the arm as you hear him laugh. “i can’t believe you.” 

his laughter died down as he spots a firefly come towards you. he saw how your entire face brightened up as you watched the insect carefully, completely mesmerised as more flew around you. “hey, what do you think of me calling you ‘hotaru’ instead of ‘kei’?” 

“i would leave your ass here, and you can either walk home, or hitchhike.” tsukishima grumbles, but there was absolutely no malice or harshness in his voice; a tone he subconsciously reserves for you. he felt his heart stop at the sound of your laughter in his ears. 

“you wouldn’t dare, tsukishima kei.”

of course he wouldn’t leave one of his best friends, you both could say that in confidence, but something stirring in his chest tells him that there’s more than that reason.

the sound of fireworks interrupted both your thoughts, and it was then you’d realize you were staring at him for way too long. you turned your gaze to the firework display that the small village was putting on, but you ended up staring at the features of the blond next to you, who was too preoccupied with watching the show.

you took in every detail of his face, watching the contrast between the moonlight forming shadows on his face and the brief flashes of color illuminating and possibly even making some of his defining features pop out.

as the last of the fireworks died down, he grabbed your hand and let you back to the festival grounds where he bought you your favorite street food. he handed it to you while munching on his own, clearly showing you that he’s eating. you both picked out little trinkets for yourselves and yamaguchi, buying only a few; not wanting to  spend most of your money. a little firefly charm caught your eye, but decided against buying it.

hours later, you find yourself waking up in the passenger seat, the sunlight hitting your eyes not too harshly. you turned to the driver’s seat to see the blond groggily open his eyes. he reached out to grab his glasses from the dashboard and turned on the ignition. “let’s go home.” he says, before pulling out of the parking space. 

the ride was peaceful, you were singing your lungs out to the songs playing; the most you heard from tsukishima is him humming along. he stops by a food truck park on the road and tells you to grab a table while he parks the car. 

you sat at one of the many empty tables, pulling out your phone. it was seven in the morning on a sunday, normally, both of you would be well asleep at yamaguchi’s place on a normal day.

he jogged to the table and asked you for your order in a fashion a server would. you laughed at the obnoxious voice he made, and told him to get you whatever is cheap.

as he ordered at one of the trucks, you find yourself staring at him again. how royally fucked you are for falling for your best friend. he came back with a tray of two orders of pancakes, both drizzled in syrup with strawberries at the side and two glasses of juice. 

"don't think about paying me back." he says before you could even open your mouth, giving you a pointed look. there was no point in arguing with a tsukishima kei so early in the morning; you learned how stubborn he could be in one morning during your first year.

you ate breakfast, talking about the festival you both attended the night before, and caught up on each other's lives. it never did occur to either of you that this is the first time you hung out together without the presence of other people, yamaguchi included.

on the way back, you felt yourself succumb to sleep, your head leaning against the passenger side window. tsukishima kept stealing glances at you, and he will take this secret about what he feels for you to the grave; rather choosing to settle as friends than lose you forever. 

he found you gorgeous in the moonlight, but even more so in the sunlight.

you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. pulling it out, you see text messages from a certain green-haired friend of yours asking where you were. quickly typing a response, a smile tugging at your lips. it's been more than half a year since you saw tsukishima and yamaguchi, your conflicting schedules made it already hard to talk to each other, and sprinkle in the fact they're both in miyagi and you in tokyo.

you could still hear the fight you had during the first year you left miyagi.

"aren't you tired of this?" he asked.

you scoffed, your grip tightening around your phone. "i'm not the one picking a fight every call."

"you didn't have to leave miyagi. there's universities here that offer your course and-"

groaning, you argued. "there are better opportunities for me here in tokyo. it's not like i'm in another country, tsuki."

this particular fight went on for an hour, maybe two? you can't remember anymore. it was the same argument, over and over again. you know that your friend has major trust issues, and being one of the only people he can open up to, led him to be extremely attached and you fear that you leaving may result in some form of fear of abandonment. 

you didn't care anymore at this point. you're tired, stressed, and overall not in the mindset to speak to someone, especially someone who just picked fights with you since the start of the academic year. 

"just stop." you said, the other person on the other end of the line did, mostly because he has never heard that tone from you before.

you sighed, "i know, okay? you have to understand why i chose this, though… you know what? i'm tired, i'll just go to sleep. good night."

you hung up before he could get a word in. you hated fighting with him.

tsukishima stared at the phone in his hand, the realization that he may have fucked up whatever relationship you had. he didn't call you or message you back, but it's not because of pride. he knows if you're ready to talk, you will, but that didn't stop him from staring at his screen the entire time while waiting for you to reach out. he prayed that he didn't lose you just like that.

he didn't sleep a wink that night.

the train was nearing your stop, and a familiar sight out the window brought you back to a fond memory.

"star, hand that to me." tsukishima said, holding out his palm, looking at you expectantly. 

you were nearing graduation, and so you're helping him pack his stuff to move to an apartment that's closer to his university. you stuttered, "star?" 

he blinked slowly, as if he's processing what he just said, but nodded, "yeah, star. or would you rather have me call you ‘sun’?"

you handed him what he was asking for, a grin plastered on your face. "uh, where did that come from?" you asked, genuinely curious about his new nickname for you.

the blond shrugged, turning away from you, silently hoping you won’t see how red his face is. "only fair since you call me 'tsuki'. and i'd rather have you call me 'tsuki' than 'hotaru', which is by the way, an incorrect way-"

he was cut off by you asking a question he never expected from you.

"can i give you a hug?"

you sounded so shy about it as well. he swears he almost feels his heart burst out of his chest. seeing him nod, you launched yourself to him, arms around his torso and your face buried in his back. 

what a shame you both couldn't see how red the other is.

like a scene from a movie, the moment was interrupted as akiteru knocked on the door, briefly asking if both of you needed help. you detached yourself and politely told the older tsukishima that both of you were fine, and that you'd call him if you ever need help.

as you faced him, the blond practically shoved a little jewelry bag in your hands, telling you to open it. you've always had a knack for accessories, so you excitedly open the bag to see a familiar firefly charm.

"is this-"

"the one at the festival? yeah." he rubbed the back of his neck. "i saw you staring at it, so i thought why not give it to you as a reminder of the festival and a graduation gift."

oh, your poor heart didn't know how to function. 

tsukishima saw your reaction, and you didn't have to worry about any feelings you can't express. for the first time since you met, he was the one to initiate a hug. you felt his arms wrap around your torso, and you melted into his embrace. 

he smelt like home. he felt like home.

“tsuki? i think i like ‘sun’ more.” your voice was gentle, and muffled as your face was against his chest.

he found it cute how despite being friends for so long, you still ask him if he's comfortable with skinship. he's learning, don't worry.

you found yourself, standing on the sidewalk, taking in how different miyagi seemed to look. you gave a cab driver tsukishima's address, as he's the one that hosts you whenever you visit. you entered the building and went up the stairs to his floor. you knew where the spare key is, so you don't have to worry about having to call yamaguchi to let you in. the apartment sounded empty, only the creak of the front door was heard as it echoed against the walls. 

you locked the door behind you as you took off your shoes, leaving them at a shoe shelf you made for the tall blond. despite living in tokyo, you basically live in his guest room, seeing how you already have clothes in the closets. you set your bags in the room and settled down on the couch as you sent a text message to yamaguchi.

you fiddled with the charm in your bracelet as you read his text. 

'your loverboy and i are on the way back to the apartment.' it says.

—

tsukishima prided himself in reading people, and he could read his friend walking beside him. it is painfully obvious that he's hiding something.

"don't tell me you proposed to yachi without telling me." he said in a teasing manner, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he glanced at yamaguchi. the poor guy almost tripped on his two feet. “tsukki! no, i haven’t. and if i did, you’d be the first one to know.”

they continued to walk down the familiar path leading to tsukishima’s apartment, their arms carrying bags of groceries.

“tsuki!” he heard from behind; he braced himself before you launched yourself on his back. he hooked his arms under your legs and continued to walk while giving you a piggyback ride. tsukishima could see your face in his peripheral vision as you propped your head on top of his shoulder. 

“i bought strawberries.” you said, your breath colliding with the cold winter air produced fog. that fogged up his glasses. you noticed and started laughing, slightly blowing cool air on his glasses to lessen the fogging. he could smell faint traces of hot chocolate in your breath.

he continued carrying you to his apartment complex, where he set you down upon arriving. you tugged at his sleeve, dragging him up the stairs and taking the spare key from where it’s hidden. you went on and on about how you’re going to make the best strawberry shortcake he’s ever had, that you gained favors from people you met at university to help you in making a recipe.

you took over his kitchen that day, only letting him do simple tasks like sifting the ingredients, or preheating the oven. you beamed as you presented the final product to him, gently holding the plate between your hands. tsukishima saw how your eyes sparkled underneath the kitchen lights.

you also took over his heart, unknowingly holding it in your hands.

he found it cute how you get excited about the small things in life. 

“tsuki!” his eyes widened as he saw you standing in his living room, your smile as bright as he’d always remember. the blond didn’t even think twice and set the bags on the floor before enveloping you in a tight hug. he felt another person’s warmth, knowing full well you pulled in yamaguchi into the hug.

you released them from your hug as you said, “i can’t believe it’s been so long.” 

“that’s because of your busy schedule.” the freckled man flicked your forehead. you felt his piercing gaze at you, and he hasn’t even said a word.

“well, sunshine, when did you get here? why didn’t you call either of us to pick you up?” he nagged, but all you could feel was your heart stuttering in your chest at the nickname he rarely used for you. 

you babbled on about when you got here and why you didn’t tell him (he gave yamaguchi a look after hearing that he knew you were coming) as you made yourself feel at home. and you are home.

yamaguchi will never tell anyone how you looked at the blond with stars in your eyes, or how tsukishima looked at you like you are the light of his life.

the two men aided you in making your shortcake, with them doing the more tiresome tasks. the comfort of each other's presence in tsukishima's small kitchen is enough for all three of you.

you decided to watch a movie while waiting for the cake to cool down. the younger male excused himself as his phone started to ring in the middle of the first half, leaving you and the blond in the living room. he peeked back in a few minutes later, informing you both that his girlfriend needs to get picked up.

you felt your heart race as you continued to watch the movie, the literal love of your life just within arms reach. he looped his arm around your shoulder, your breath stuttering. tsukishima then retracted his arm, now holding the bowl of popcorn. "why're you red, star?" he asked in a teasing manner.

as you struggle to give a response, the middle blocker is internally beating himself up. he chickened out on actually putting his arm around you. to ease the tension, he suggested, "i'll go get the karaoke machine."

your eyes shined as you nodded, offering to clean up as he set up the machine. you grabbed two bottles of beer from his fridge, handing him one. you settled back on the couch as you twisted off the bottle cap. 

one bottle became two, then three, and you lost count as you both drunkenly sang to cheesy love songs. one caught your eye in particular, and you almost kneeled down trying to convince the blond.

"please~ come on, tsuki! kei, please!" you dramatically begged, shaking him back and forth. you peered up at him with the biggest, saddest eyes you could muster, and pouted. "i won't even take a video! it'll be our little secret." you promised, raising three fingers with your right hand and placing your left on your chest.

he clicked his tongue at you. "i'm only doing this because you're cute."

neither of you could tell if the red in both your faces is because of the alcohol or because of the blood that flushed your cheeks. you broke eye contact first, clearing your throat. grinning at him, you punched in the code, hearing the starting notes of the song 'because i am with you'. 

he grumbled in annoyance, but the look in his eyes showed he isn't bothered by singing in your presence in the slightest. when he starts singing, tsukishima is staring intently at you, eyes drifting everywhere from your eyes, your lips, your nose. you couldn't help but feel that he's actually serenading you. 

every time the chorus comes on, he stares deep into your eyes, as if trying to tell you something. he uses his other hand to cup your cheek as he sings the final lines.

"i really love you for the rest of my life," his voice lowers at the last three words as the instrumental slowly fades. "be with me." 

his golden eyes drifted to your lips. "stop me if i'm reading this wrong."

you didn't, and tsukishima gladly took that as an invitation. he sets down the microphone before he leans down and presses his lips against yours briefly before pulling away. he saw that there wasn't any sign of protest in your expression, and kissed you once more, both your eyes closing.

your hands rested around his nape, pulling him impossibly closer to you. his free hand is placed on the side of your hip, the one cupping your jaw pulling you into him.

pulling away for breath, you open your eyes to see his own fixated on you.

he paused for a moment. “you are actually the sky to my moon— no, the sky, the stars, and the sun to my moon. i’d be incredibly lucky if you loved me half as much as i love you.” 

time stops for you. the one you have loved— the one you'd always love, just told you he feels the same way. tears made their way to your eyes as you asked him a simple question. “since when?”

he chuckled, “since that little festival we went to.”

“so you’re telling me,” you started, rising from the couch and standing in front of him. “we fell for each other at the same time?”

tsukishima blinked. 

gears were turning in his head at rapid speeds as his tipsy brain tries to process what you just told him. “you… feel the same way?” he asks in shock, his voice soft. the expression on his features showed you that he wasn’t expecting this in the slightest.

before you could ramble on what you do love about him, he stands on his feet and engulfs you in a hug, slightly picking you up. when he sets you down, the sparkles in his eyes are undeniably bright.

“i can’t believe it. sunshine, all this time? i mean, i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship and—”

you shut him up with a peck, and he malfunctions then and there. 

you ask, “what does this make us?”

he tilts his head. “well, now we’re basically in a relationship, but we’ll take it one step at a time. whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

when his moon rises, your sun rises as well under the same sky. 

x-ia-n © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost. general taglist: @mooniepotchi​​ | please fill out this form to be added to the taglist!

[musicnoots]

Honey, Hold On For Me

Shifty Powers/Reader

Prompt “The way I feel when I’m with you...” requested by anon

A/N: i’m sorry this took so long but i finally beat writers block and this present to you all... THIS!

Synopsis: You and Shifty begin to talk about the future—what lies ahead on your journey together and what happens when the story ends. 

Tags: @wexhappyxfew @junojelli @dumpofdumblings @bandofmarvels @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @floydtab @tvserie-s-world​ @yeahcurrahee​ @gottapenny​ @dustyjjumpwings​ @those-dusty-jump-wings​ @meteora-fc​ @rayleighshughes​ @medievalfangirl​ @majwinters​ @not-john-watsons-blog​ @alienoresimagines​ @david-weepster​ @higgles123​ @curraheev​

It’d been a long day, warm and breezy, honey-slow for a change. He was lucky enough to snag a moment for himself after weeks of fighting along the frontlines, briefly forgetting the sound of death and instead, his day was filled with you, humming a tune as you laid just mere inches away from him.

It was familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it—he thinks it’s probably one of those Ella Fitzgerald songs he used to hear on the radio during those hot, summer nights back home at Clinchco. He rests against the trunk of the tree his body leans against, you’ve laid your head on his lap, eyes closed as his fingers became weaved within the strands of your hair—he thinks you look beautiful. The sun shines on your face so perfectly, it highlights your features so marvelously, the identity of the mystery tune no longer plagues his head but rather, replaced by another.

“I had a dream the other night.”

“Hm?” You glance up, unbothered.

Shifty fights the urge to shy away from the question. Instead, he rests his head against the tree his body leans against and brushes a stray hair from your face. “I had a dream...about us. We were married.”

You open your eyes, and the corners of your lips curved upwards. “We were?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “We lived in a beautiful house back at Clinchco—two stories, nice, big ol’ living room, and a cute little pupper waiting for us in the front yard. Don’t think we named ‘im, but we were married, darlin’. Wedding bands and everythin’.” The rings were gold, he remembers. He’d run his thumb over the metal when he takes your hand into his over the kitchen counter, early morning I love yous exchanged over hot coffee. Having you be a part of his life in the years to come just felt like the right thing to happen. “I guess...I guess it was everything I could’ve ever wished for.”

“Everything you could’ve ever wished for?” you echo back, asking if you had heard him right and he nods. 

“It was all so...perfect. It was the best dream I’ve had in a long time, and I still think about it, how...how wonderful everything was. And it just made sense, y’know, after all this war stuff, for me to go back home and settle down.” He looks down and hopes to see a look of agreement on your face, that maybe, you’d want to tag along with him in the end.

But of course, he doesn’t know what your post-war ambitions include. You’re young, you and Shifty both, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, he wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t feel like setting down just yet. If you wanted to travel the world, earn a university degree, reach for the highest stars in the sky, he’d promise that he’ll be by your side, even if it meant delaying his own plans until the time was right. Shifty doesn’t care where his future endeavors take him, he just knows that he’s meant to live them out with you. 

“I think at this point, we both deserve that,” you say, rolling on your side and smiling at him. You’re glad you both grasped a moment for yourselves because if this was the last time you’d see each other, this is the way you would spend it—in his arms, at ease. “I’m hopin’ I get to live long enough to live that, you know? I don’t even know if I’ll be lucky enough to see your face tomorrow, I’m stuck here savoring this moment between us here, so that I’ll have something to hold on to if either of us don’t make it.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but the words come stuck at his throat. When you put it like that, Shifty becomes more aware of the circumstances that surround the universe at this very moment, and he’s almost found himself with a change of heart, a revelation. He pulls his hand away from your hair and traces the shape of your eyebrow with his thumb. He wished he would have appreciated this moment as much as you did. “I...I never thought of it like that before...suppose our days together are numbered, and we don’t know how long it’s gonna last.”

“Life without you, I don’t even wanna think what that would look like, Darrell. I never wanna think about a world where you’re not in it. Guess I love you a lot, but I just wanna believe that we’d be together until the end of time. Physically, emotionally, spiritually…”

“Maybe the best we could do is to hold onto each other for as long we can,” he says. He’s not so sure else to say. He didn’t expect for this conversation to ever happen, but he thinks it was bound to happen anyways—fighting on in a war next to the person he loves, it was a conversation he should have been ready for, but he never knew how heavy it would be.

It’s a solemn evening. 

What began as a simple conversation of dreams and what ifs turned into a serious talk about life and death in a time where the next sunrise isn’t even guaranteed for every soul that long to see it. Shifty starts to think that maybe this conversation was meant to happen. He should have known that there might be a day where he would have to let go of you, go on with life as if you didn’t hold his heart with the gentlest hands—he realizes that he only wants to spend the rest of his own life with you. The first time he kissed you, behind the mess hall under the hot Georgia night, hair matted against your skin, he already knew there was no else he would rather spend life’s adventures with.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you,” he speaks again, “if you’d be okay livin’ the rest of forever with me. You don’t have to say yes.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t have to say yes?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna force you into making a decision for me—I know Clinchco ain’t exactly a town with a whole lot of opportunities,” he said, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “No matter what you say, I won’t love you any less. You could be halfway across the country doin’ ya own thing, and I’ll still be writing you love letters like I always do. Hopin’ they’ll nicer by then, but I can’t make a promises that they’ll be in any form extravagant.”

The speech smacks you across the face. You roll off his lap and plant your hand on the Earth to keep you steady. “Darrell...you really don’t have to—“

“But honey, I do mean it,” he interrupts. He bites his bottom lip and watches your expression, your eyebrows as they knit together in shock. “The way I feel when I’m with you...I just wanna feel it everyday, forever. I don’t care where in the world you take us, I just wanna be with you, Clinchco or not.”

“How come I don’t have to say yes?” you ask.

“‘Cause I know Clinchco ain’t the town for everyone, and I don’t know if you’d wanna settle down with some ol’ hillbilly like me. I know I can’t offer a whole lot to you. If you don’t wanna be seen with a fella like me, I understand, and I’ll still love you no matter what. And if you don’t wanna be with me no more, or if we can’t be together after this, just know that I would rather have you for the time we have right now than anyone else for the rest of my life.”

“Darrell…”

He gives you a sad smile. He means it.

You hold up a hand to his cheek and stroke the skin gently. “But I don’t know what I wanna do after all of this is over...we don’t even know when this is gonna end.”

“That’s alright, maybe we can think about it on the way…” He takes your hand and plants his lips on your palm. “I just needa know if you’re willing to spend the rest of eternity with...with me.”

For a fleeting moment, you’re motionless and Shifty’s smile starts to fade away with every passing second. He knows not to make a fuss about it, after all, he only wants what’s best for you, and he���ll be happy regardless of your decision. 

“Yeah.” You sit back on your haunches and take his face into your hands. “I do wanna spend it all with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pull him in for a kiss, his own hands resting on the curve of your back. He worries about his lips being chapped, but you’ve kissed him one too many times to even bother with that—it’s perfect every time.

He pulls away after a short moment. “I’m not guilting you, am I?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Never. I’m choosing to live it out with you, and wherever this world takes us—who knows? I’m not expecting anything lavish, dear. All I really want is to be by your side, and for you to be right by mine.”

He’s awestruck. “You really do mean it, do you?”

“I know this is where I’m supposed to be.” You sit yourself next to him with your back against the tree trunk and put your head on his shoulder. “This is where I’m meant to be…”

There’s only a few more hours left until the both of you are able to get some shut eye, the sun finally ends her descent below horizon to welcome the faint outline of the moon. Shifty thinks about his dream again, how it would be to sleep together in an actual bed, legs tangled beneath blankets, wedding bands resting on the nightstand nearby—he wonders if that’s exactly what the future has in store for him. In another world, he wouldn’t have to worry about making it out the war alive, rather, he’d just have to worry about how long you both can sleep in together until you feel the guilt seep in from your sides. 

He wraps his arms around you and watches as the shadows on the ground slowly blend into nothing, daylight fading away into the solemn darkness of the night. He feels content with what he has now and kisses the top of your head. You smile and squeeze his thigh, all too focused on enjoying the moment as it is.

For now, he would have to hold on for a little while longer. For the both of you. 

[magniloquent-raven]

43, and 83?

ty for the prompts!! 

posted on ao3

i’m taking commissions for HfBLM now y’all, if you like this fic and have $5 to spare pls consider donating & hitting me up with a prompt. my info is here

--

Steve is pretending to watch TV when the phone rings. He’s not even sure what show he threw on, just couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. His weekends used to be a lot more eventful. Lively. There was a time when he’d have had something to fill the silence, but now...

He graduated high school eight days ago. The only thing he has to look forward to now is Dustin getting back from camp in a couple weeks, and in the meantime, he’s working at the mall. Scooping ice-cream in the dumbest hat on the fucking planet.

And he got another lecture on responsibility yesterday. His father’s idea of a graduation present, apparently.

Life isn’t great right now.

So, when the phone interrupts his pity party, he assumes the worst. Which, given Hawkins’ track-record, is pretty bad. Apocalyptic bad.

Or it could just be his dad, tipsy in a hotel room in Indianapolis and thinking up new reasons why Steve is a disappointment.

He’s not sure which one he hopes it is.

“Harrington, residence,” he says when he picks up, in case it is his father.

The silence from the other end stretches long enough that Steve almost hangs up, then, “Heey,” a voice slurs. A familiar voice. “That you, Stevie?”

“Hargrove?”

“Ugh,” a staticky scoff crackles through the line, “Don’t call me that.”

“Are you drunk?” He ignores the way Billy rankles at his own last name. Doesn’t have time to unpack Billy Hargrove’s many issues, and honestly, the fact that the guy is calling him out of the blue drunk off his ass is the more pressing issue. “And how did you get my phone number?”

“Phonebook, genius.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. Ignores the weird little thrill he gets at the idea of Billy going through the trouble of looking up his number. “What the hell, man.”

He should hang up. Billy can’t possibly have any good reason to be calling, and engaging with…whatever this is, probably won’t end well for Steve. However, Steve is very bored. And Hargrove is at the very least…entertaining. In his way. 

If Steve were a little more honest with himself, he might use other adjectives, but he’s not thinking about that.

“Steeevie…” Billy sing-songs through the phone, “Pretty boy, what’re you doing right now?”

“Regretting answering the phone.”

Billy cackles, “No, really.”

“I’m really regretting answering the phone.”

“C’mooon.”

See, the thing is… Billy’s...whatever his deal is, fixation or whatever, really doesn’t bother Steve as much as it should. 

Sometimes it’s shitty, yeah. On his bad days, when Billy says exactly the wrong thing, just to get a rise out of him. But it’s also…not all terrible. Maybe Steve’s ten kinds of fucked up for thinking it, but it’s flattering. Because it isn’t just crass comments and getting overly physical during basketball practice, it’s calling Steve pretty, and glancing over after he does a trick shot, like he wants to make sure Steve saw him. And heavy, unflinching eye-contact that makes Steve hot all over.

So, maybe Steve’s got a bit of a…problem. And maybe he’s thinking about it a little.

About Billy being the only person over the age of fourteen who regularly pays attention to him, and why that even matters. And how much he didn’t mean it when he said he regretted picking up at all.

It’s a rabbit hole he’s kind of terrified to go down, but his brain keeps trying to push him in anyway.

“Steeeevve.”

He sighs. “What do you want, Billy?”

Billy’s quiet for a beat, like he’s actually thinking about it, then hums, low and amused, and says, “More than you could handle, baby.”

Steve chokes on his tongue. Falls down the rabbit hole.

Because what’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you—” Steve stutters, stops, heart racing. Billy’s messing with him. That’s what he does. It doesn't mean anything. Steve kind of hates how much he wants it to mean something. Wants Billy here crooning baby in his ear without the phone between them. “What if your parents are listening in, you can’t just say shit like that.” 

Oh the irony. After all the times girls have said almost that exact thing to him, here he is... The implications thrill him a little.

But then there’s a bark of laughter, bitter and humourless. “You worried about me?” Steve frowns at the sudden shift in Billy’s tone. “M’not at home right now, princess, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

 “Where are you then?” It slips out before he can think better of it. It’s none of his business where Billy is, and Billy doesn’t take well to people nosing around in his life. Not that it’s an especially personal question. Still, he’s seen Billy bite people’s heads off for less. 

But all he says is, “Dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Steve squawks. Billy is somewhere, drunk and probably alone, in Hawkins. Monster infested, suspicious death capital of Indiana, motherfucking Hawkins. And either he’s so drunk he’s got no sense of direction, or he just hasn’t been here long enough to know his ass from Melvald’s General. Or some horrible combo of the two. None of those options are good. 

“Just…describe what you see.” The line is silent for a while. Steve grips the phone harder. “Billy,” he snaps, not caring that he’s letting his anxiety bleed into his voice.

“Jesus, alright,” Billy mutters, “Trees. More fuckin’ trees. Y’know, this town really is a shithole. Nothin’ around but mud and—”

“Focus, asshole.”

“So bossy. There’s some big-ass chain-link fence. Seems weird, ‘cause it’s the middle of nowh—"

“Oh god, you’re out by Mirkwood,” Steve realizes, horrified.

“…I’ll be sure to watch out for elves then.” He can almost hear Billy’s eyeroll.

“Would you stop being—wait, you understood the reference?” Steve blinks. Processes. Tries not to find it too endearing that Billy Hargrove is, underneath the leather and hairspray, a nerd, apparently. 

Now is really not the time. So he files the information away for later. He’s not sure what he’s gonna do with it later, but it feels important for some reason. 

“Never mind, just—Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” Mirkwood isn’t far, it would only take him a couple minutes to drive there. And Steve knows exactly where the payphone on that street is, which helps.

Steve half-expects a fight. Expects Billy to protest, claim he doesn’t need help or whatever, but what he gets is a quiet, “I…okay.”

“I’ll be right there,” Steve says firmly. He’s not sure Billy needs the reassurance, but he gives it anyway.

He’s shaking a little, he realizes, as he pulls on his jacket and grabs his keys. It’s ridiculous, probably, to be so freaked out, and he chides himself internally for being so easily spooked. The gate is closed, the lab is shut down, there should be nothing in those woods scarier than Billy himself. But shouldn’t be didn’t stop Will Byers from getting taken in the first place. None of that shit should have been, but it happened anyway. Billy may be more formidable than some shrimpy twelve-year-old but he’s also drunk, and has no idea what could be out there.

Steve pushes the speed limit a little.

~~

Billy is sitting in the dirt on the side of the road, knees pulled to his chest, back against the payphone booth. The dirty fluorescent behind him lights up his honey-coloured curls like the world's saddest halo.

The knot of anxiety in Steve’s chest loosens a little.

He puts the Beemer in park. Now that he knows Billy’s okay, he realizes he didn’t really think this all the way through. Because…what now?

Billy hasn’t moved, so Steve goes to him, approaches cautiously, with his hands in his pockets to stop him from fidgeting too much. “Billy?”

“Hey.” The greeting is subdued.

“You okay, man?”

He sniffs, doesn’t look at Steve. Rubs the back of his hand under his nose. “No.” There’s something clutched in his other hand, Steve realizes, but he can’t make out what it is because Billy is curled around it, blocking the light.

“Do…you want to, uh, talk about it?” Steve cringes his way through the question. He’s really, really out of his depth here, not a goddamn buoy in sight.

There’s no response. The silence stretches on for an awkward moment before Billy pushes himself to his feet, swaying a little. Steve’s almost afraid he’s going to fall over but he just shuffles forward, uncharacteristically hesitant, and extends a hand towards Steve when he gets close enough.

With a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist.

Only half of them have bloomed, their little purple petals unfurled. The stems look a little prickly, dotted with green buds and jagged leaves, and half-crushed in Billy’s hand, the green turned dark and pulpy in spots.

Steve is pretty sure if his heart tried to beat any faster it would actually explode. He’s genuinely at a loss for words, left gaping at Billy trying not to wheeze like he’s just run a marathon.

“Picked these for you,” Billy mutters. He’s staring at a patch of dirt near Steve’s shoe with the intensity of someone trying very hard not to look at anything else.

There’s air escaping Steve’s lungs, but he can’t seem to make it into sound. He stares, unmoving, for long enough that Billy starts fidgeting, lowering his hand. The motion spurs Steve to action, heart in his mouth he reaches out and grabs Billy’s wrist. Billy stills under his fingers, and Steve slides his palm down the back of his hand. He’s warm. Knuckles scarred and rough.

“…Why?” Steve’s voice is reverently quiet. He’s almost afraid to scare Billy off, say the wrong thing and make him retreat behind the walls he’s always hiding behind.

Billy shrugs. Then finally looks Steve in the eye. He’s cautious, tension in his shoulders, but there’s a vulnerability in his expression that Steve’s never seen before. It’s breathtaking. Literally. Steve stops breathing for a second. 

“Why’re you here?” Billy asks. Demands. There’s no edge to it, just a quiet desperation that breaks Steve’s heart. He wonders why Billy is here. What brought him to the edge of town, drunk and alone.

“I…” His fingers tighten around Billy’s hand. Lies destroyed him and Nancy. All the things she kept from him that tore her up inside, all the times he wanted to pretend everything was okay. Lies are making his parents miserable. Always acting like their marriage isn’t hanging by a thread and a shared bank account. He and Billy don’t have a relationship to destroy, but—“I was worried about you.”

The words terrify him now that they’re out there. Saying he and Billy don’t have a relationship is an understatement. They’re barely even civil on a good day. Billy’s probably just bored out of his mind in small-town Indiana and fucking with Steve is as good an outlet as any, and Steve’s the dumb motherfucker who went and caught feelings for someone just for paying attention to him, oh god—

Steve pulls his hand away, cheeks burning, while the world starts shrinking around him, narrowing down to him and his sweaty palms. He’s had panic attacks before, but if he has one now he might actually fucking die.

“My dad took my keys,” Billy says, cutting through Steve’s internal tirade.

He blinks. “What?”

Billy’s fidgeting again. “Turned eighteen a couple months ago. Told myself I was gonna wait ‘til graduation. Finish school, y’know? Been saving up, and fuckin’ dreaming about this for years, but then…” He stops, grits his teeth. Steve waits for him to continue with bated breath.

“I was gonna get out. Didn’t want anything holding me back. But then my dad took my fucking keys and I—I wasn’t even mad that he stopped me,” Billy’s voice breaks, catches in his throat, “I wanted someone to stop me. Didn’t want it to be him, but it was never gonna be you. Because you. You don’t—” he stutters to a halt and squeezes his eyes shut.

And…that’s a lot to process. It’s a lot. But Steve had some practice taking things in stride, so he focuses on what’s important for now.

“Hey,” he says softly, and touches his fingertips to the inside of Billy’s wrist. Billy jolts, his eyes open and he looks at Steve warily, but he doesn’t pull away. “Can I take you home?”

Poor word choice. Billy recoils, curls in on himself.

“My house! I meant to my house,” Steve amends. The way Billy instantly relaxes worries Steve. This whole situation worries Steve. “There’s, uh, no one else there, so. I mean, oh-- I just want to get you sobered up, and—and once you’re—I’m just gonna stop talking. Let’s. Let’s just go.”

He turns and heads to the car so he doesn’t embarrass himself any more.

The drive back to Loch Nora is quiet, the radio plays something soft that Steve can barely hear and neither of them speak. The silence gets deafening when he cuts the engine. 

Billy Hargrove sitting in his parents’ pristine kitchen, jean jacket askew, earring flashing in the low light, while Steve makes him a cup of coffee, is…surreal. Made strange by just how mundane it is. How domestic. 

And keeping his hands busy doesn’t stop his mind from wandering. Or doing fucking wind sprints. So many new places to go, so little time.

Billy is sitting on the island in the middle of the room, watching. And it feels like the little pile of mangled flowers next to him is staring too.

“So, uh, you can sleep here. If you want. There’s a spare room,” Steve says as he hands a mug over. Their fingers brush and he tries not to fixate on it. Or think about where else Billy could sleep. 

No, fuck it, he’s thinking about it. Billy in his bed. Billy’s hands on him. How he looked after basketball practice, sweaty and shirtless, muscles taut, blue eyes burning through Steve. The showers afterwards. Wanting to know what Billy tastes like. 

The thoughts aren’t new, but letting them play out is. It’s equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

“What are you doing, Harrington?” Billy asks quietly.

Steve blinks. Thinking about you naked, doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer so he flounders, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of anything other than tanned skin and golden curls. “...Nothing?” 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

He mentally kicks himself. Closes his eyes briefly and tries to get his shit together.

Billy’s got a thumbnail between his teeth, his gaze fixed on Steve, intent. There’s a question in his eyes. Uncertainty in his posture. “I mean...why are you--” He stops, lets out a frustrated sigh, and puts his coffee down. “What do you get out of this? I--I picked flowers for you, man. Half expected you to try and kick my ass again but now you’re, what, being charitable, or something?” 

Steve makes several big decisions in a short amount of time. He takes a step forward, inches away from standing between Billy’s knees. “I like it when you’re nice to me. When you look at me like I matter. I’m not being charitable, I’m just…” 

Making a fool of myself, probably.

But Billy’s got that vulnerable look again, mouth soft and eyes wide. He’s beautiful like this. He’s always been annoyingly gorgeous, all stormy eyes and sharp teeth, alluring like only a dangerous thing can be, but this… looking at him like this makes Steve ache.

“When have I ever been nice to you?” Billy half-laughs, it’s weak and watery. 

Steve grins, watches Billy track the motion. “You have your moments.” He steps forward again. It’d be so easy to put his hands on Billy’s thighs from here, standing between them. He wants to. So badly his fingers twitch. 

“...Steve?”

He inhales, slow, steadying. And exhales. Waiting isn’t going to make this any easier to say, but he can’t help taking a moment to collect himself. To panic. And think of all the ways it could go wrong. 

“Can I touch you?”

A sharp intake of breath is the only response he gets at first. Billy’s eyes go wide, and Steve can practically see the gears turning in his head. The whiskey haze seems to have mostly faded by now, his guard goes up faster than it would have otherwise. 

So, Steve waits. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Billy nods. 

He gives Billy the opportunity to change his mind, to pull away, moves carefully and deliberate so it’s clear what he’s doing. 

Before he even makes contact Billy’s eyes darken, and his hands shoot up to grab ahold of Steve’s wrists, but instead of pushing him off he tugs Steve closer. Suddenly they’re pressed together, Billy’s legs around his waist, clutching Steve’s hands to his chest.

“If you’re gonna do it, then do it, Harrington,” Billy growls, and Steve feels it as much as he hears it.

Which is...definitely something Steve didn’t know he would be into, yet there’s an undeniable flash of heat in his belly and he suppresses a shiver. He curls his fingers into the soft material of Billy’s shirt, feels the hard muscle beneath. 

Billy closes his eyes, and lets out a shaky breath.

They stay like that for a few seconds. Billy’s grip on Steve’s wrists slackens, but stays, thumbs tracing circles in Steve’s skin while he feels Billy’s heartbeat beneath his hands. His pulse is racing.

Steve leans forward, buries his face in the crook of Billy’s neck. He’s trapped their hands between them, put his elbows at a slightly awkward angle, but doesn’t care enough to move, not when he’s breathing in Billy’s scent. The faint chlorine smell clinging to the golden curls tickling his forehead, cologne and cigarette smoke on his clothes, and under it all something indescribably Billy, sharp and musky, oddly comforting.

“I like you,” Steve murmurs. It’s easier to talk like this. When he doesn’t have to make eye-contact. He can just talk, without worrying about anything else. What to do with his hands, where to look, what his face is doing while he speaks. What Billy might be thinking. “The flowers were nice. No one’s ever done something like that for me. And if I’d known you wanted me to stop you from leaving, I would have. I would’ve.” 

Billy wriggles his hands out from between them, and puts a hand on Steve’s cheek to guide his face upwards, until he’s looking into Billy’s eyes. His gaze is searching, roaming Steve’s face looking for answers. “I don’t know what I did to make you think that you…” he pauses, furrows his brow. “I wanted you the second I saw you, but… I don’t deserve you.”

He doesn’t let go though. Leaves his hand where it is, his thighs still warming Steve’s sides. 

Steve shrugs. “But you have me.”

It’s unclear which of them leans in first. Steve’s not too concerned with the technicalities anyways, not when he’s got Billy’s tongue in his mouth. He kisses like a man starved. No holding back, no hesitation. Steve is overwhelmed in the best way possible, weak in the knees and holding on for dear life. 

When they finally come up for air Steve’s fingers are tangled in Billy’s hair (he’s not sure when that happened), and he’s half-hard in his jeans. Billy is too, he can feel it pressed against his stomach. 

It takes a lot of self-control to keep from grinding against him, finding out what Billy looks like when he comes, what kind of noises he can coax out of him.

Because as much as he wants all of that, and more, he’s still barely comfortable admitting that. He’s scared of what all this means. Of the fact that he made some pretty big declarations and meant every word of it. Now it’s out there, and he doesn’t know where to go from here.

However, what comes out of his mouth is a breathless, “Come to bed with me?” and it takes his brain a second to realize exactly how that sounded. When he does, he panics. Pulls back as far as he can without actually stepping out of Billy’s embrace. “I mean-- shit-- I meant that but, not-- not like that-- I--”

Billy silences Steve by putting a finger to his lips. There’s an amused glint in his eye, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I got you, pretty boy. No worries.”

Getting ready for bed together is...an experience. Steve tripping over himself trying to act normal and Billy completely unable to keep a straight face. Steve’s pretty sure he’s never seen Billy smile this much. It’s got him feeling weirdly proud of himself. Giddy, like a kid passing notes to his crush, with a heart full of bubbles and his stomach in knots. 

Actually laying in bed, side by side, is incredibly awkward for a long few seconds, before Steve rolls over and throws an arm across Billy’s chest. He shuffles closer, letting Billy tuck his arm under him, around his waist. 

He doesn’t want to sleep. Not yet. So, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “You’ve read The Hobbit?”

Billy laughs, startled. “I mean...yeah. Why?”

Steve grins against Billy’s shoulder. “No reason. Tell me what else you’ve read.”

They lay like that for a while, talking quietly until they’re too tired to keep their eyes open. Steve drifts off first, listening to Billy talk, content in a way he hasn’t been in a long time.

[salemsarc]

i’m not even my own - ao3

It was rare to have anyone other than Tadashi watching Kei’s games.

Kei was running off of a slight adrenaline high walking off the court. The Sendai Frogs had just won against a formidable rival, and Kei was a part of that team. Warmth pooling in Kei’s gut didn’t disgust him anymore, he accepted his passion for volleyball long ago.

Before the match, Kei was opening his texts before confining his phone to his gym bag for the duration of the game.

From: <3Tadashi<3

good luck tsukki !! i’m in the front row

A smile crept up onto Kei’s face, which surprised some of his teammates who were glancing around the locker room. Sure, he was a lot less cranky since high school, but he was nowhere near Hinata’s level of enthusiasm. Kei only sent a short reply to Tadashi before he was about to turn off his phone, another text had caught him off guard.

From: Akaashi

Hey. I’m watching your game. Can we hang out and talk after?

Kei didn’t pretend that those words on the screen didn’t cause him some unease. It wasn’t like he wasn’t on good terms with Akaashi, rather the opposite. They texted frequently (under Kei’s standards) and still made time to go out to brunch or watch a movie occasionally. Just slightly strange that he would request to see each other so suddenly, especially right after one of Kei’s games.

Now that Kei had thought about it, Bokuto didn’t have any games for that week. Akaashi attended every one of Bokuto’s games, the beefcake claiming that Akaashi was his good luck charm. That man was a saint for being able to deal with Bokuto’s antics on such a frequent basis.

Thinking time was over, one of Kei’s teammates slapped his shoulder roughly, causing his phone to clatter to the floor.

“You can text your girlfriend later, Tsukishima,” said his teammate with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Girlfriend, sure. Kei picked up his phone from the ground and shoved it into his bag. He could worry about Akaashi later.

Tadashi was waiting for him, of course, right outside of the gym. Kei’s teammates were still inside, probably doing some stupid locker room ritual that Kei had no interest in. The way that Tadashi’s irises were sparkling in pride still made Kei’s insides swirl around.

“Congrats, Tsukki!” Tadashi threw his arms around Kei’s lanky body despite the fact that Kei was pretty sweaty. “You kicked their asses! God, I’m so lucky to have such a cool boyfriend.” Kei’s insides swirled a little harder at his words.

Tadashi followed up by pressing a chaste kiss to Kei’s lips, having to go onto the tips of his toes to reach his excessive height. Kei didn’t make any fuss because he was feeling particularly sappy for Tadashi at that moment, and his teammates probably weren’t around.

“Yeah, well, everyone else also played the game too, you know,” teased Kei.

“I hate you, just take the compliment!”

“Fine, thank you for the compliment that is definitely the truth.”

Tadashi smacked Kei’s shoulder lightheartedly at that, but he knew what Kei was thinking. He always did.

“Oh! I was sitting with Akaashi during the game, are you guys going to hang out now?” Kei didn’t pay any mind to the stands during his games, regardless of Tadashi’s presence. But he did remember getting a brief glimpse of Akaashi’s emotionless resting face.

“Mm. He said he wanted to hang out and talk.” This time, Kei tried to hide his unease.

“Stop worrying so much, he probably just wants to catch up.” Hiding was pointless.

“He’s by the parking lot, I’m going to go now.”

Kei chose to ignore Tadashi’s remark on his nervousness and instead leaned down to slot their lips together. He held it there for a few seconds, just to be safe.

“Oh, wow, Tsukki. This bold in public? I’ll be waiting for you when you get home!~” Tadashi made a point to drag his pointer finger down Kei’s chest before leaving. His finger carved sparks and tingles in its path of destruction.

He should go find Akaashi.

Akaashi was, indeed, waiting for him at the parking lot entrance. He was by no means short, standing only seven centimeters below Kei’s own stature. But, the jacket he was wearing (or vice-versa) made Akaashi appear Tadashi’s size.

“Ah, Tsukishima. Thanks for agreeing to this so last-minute.” Akaashi had peered over his phone to regard Kei.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I would have just spent some time with Tadashi,” uttered Kei. He didn’t include what he thought that time would ensue, he also chose not to think about it.

“I feel bad for interrupting your time with Yamaguchi, are you sure this is okay?” Akaashi asked. He was shifting his weight back and forth between his legs. It made the oversized jacket sway back and forth, and make a small sound when the zipper collided with a nearby car. Akaashi looked nervous about something and it made Kei’s insides swirl in the opposite direction.

“It’s fine. Seriously. I spent a lot of time with Tadashi as it is,” They did live together, after all, “I don’t mind going somewhere with you for one afternoon.” He couldn’t make his face look any more pleased, as much as he tried. Kei prayed that Akaashi would pick up his sentiment so he wouldn’t have to admit it himself.

“Okay, thank you,” Akaashi’s lips curled up briefly before he showed Kei his phone screen. “Can we go here?” It was a small coffee shop he went to with Tadashi on occasion. Kei simply nodded before beginning to navigate.

Almost no time had passed when the two boys arrived at the coffee shop, it was only a small walk away. Upon receiving their drinks and Kei’s slice of cake (It was most definitely for Tadashi, not himself, grump master Kei would never consume sweet, sugary confections.), they found a table to sit at.

“You did a good job today. A lot of your blocks only had a brief window of decision, I admire your analysis,” complimented Akaashi.

“Coming from you, of course. I’m sure you overthink how you tie your shoes.”

Small talk felt empty when it was obvious that another matter was gravely present. Akaashi just chuckled before taking a long sip of his hazelnut coffee. He took a deep breath.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you some things,” muttered Akaashi while he threaded a hand through his obsidian hair.

“I assumed as such. Why else would you voluntarily spend time with my joyful demeanor?” The sarcasm came from Kei as deadpan as ever.

“Do you mind if I ask something about Yamaguchi?”

“Not really, no. Unless it’s something weird and perverted.”

“How did you realize you were in love with him?”

The question cut through the tense air like a dull butter knife. Kei certainly wasn’t expecting such an emotionally-charged question from Akaashi. Did he want romantic advice? That wouldn’t be like Akaashi, it had to be deeper than that.

“I guess it was right before graduation. Tadashi was really upset over leaving the volleyball team, especially as captain. I didn’t really mind, but I suddenly felt myself feeling upset because Tadashi was. It was when I realized that I didn’t have some silly crush on Tadashi for all those years, but that I was just in love with him.” Kei recalled the moment as if it had happened the day before.

“In hindsight, it was stupidly obvious how in love with him I was. All the signs were there. Even the dumbass freak duo figured it out before I did.”

Akaashi was listening intensely when Kei met the boy’s eyes once again. Now it was clear why Akaashi asked him to hang out, really it should’ve been a lot sooner.

Kei thought about how Akaashi’s mood dropped whenever Bokuto would go into his emo mode during a game. He hid it extremely well, but Sugawara had pointed it out to Kei once, and he never unsaw it. Akaashi’s sets were still precise as ever, but the way the ball sprang off his fingertips made it feel like Akaashi was the one getting his spikes constantly blocked.

“What signs.” Akaashi asked immediately with a sideways cough right after.

“I would sacrifice a lot for him. Tadashi sucked at English so I always would teach him whatever he struggled with after practice, no matter how much work I had. In general I gave all of my free time to be with Tadashi. What’s that song? If I had to choose between him and the son, I’d be one nocturnal son of a gun. As embarrassing and nauseatingly cheesy as it sounds, it’s true.”

Kei thought about how many plans Akaashi cancelled to go to Bokuto’s games. He would always provide the same reason, that he had to be there so Bokuto wouldn’t go into emo mode. Tadashi asked Kei if he was being held at gunpoint.

“The jealousy, too. Sometimes girls would confess to Tadashi after school, and he would come to practice feeling self-confident, but still describing how bad he felt for rejecting their feelings. I was happy that he felt more confident in himself, but some ugly part of me wanted to kiss him right in front of those girls. I guess showing them that Tadashi wasn’t available. But he was. I didn’t want Tadashi to date anyone. Turns out I didn’t want him to date anyone that wasn’t me.”

This time, Kei didn’t think about Akaashi. He thought about Bokuto talking to him during the training camp. A girl confessed to Akaashi that morning and he responded with a simple rejection. Kei may be taken, but he sure isn’t blind (with his glasses). Akaashi was really fucking attractive. It was surely a common occurrence but Bokuto was still dejected. Bokuto didn’t bring his voice volume above a respectable level the entire morning. His mood brought down the whole warm-up. Even Kei felt his arms stinging just a little bit more from the ball.

“Oh, okay. That was really detailed.” Kei had finished his answer and met eyes once again with Akaashi. He appeared more somber than anxious like he had before in the parking lot. Dark eyes were zigging and zagging to find some imaginary answer in the coffee shop.

“I mean, you asked. So, I answered.”

“Yes, I guess I did. Wow.”

“Did that help you realize that you’re in love with Bokuto?”

It was a little too blunt, even for a person like Kei, but he felt like he needed to state the everloving obvious. Akaashi’s eyes blew open like saucers and his mouth stood slightly agape. Only for a fleeting moment, however. He quickly composed himself into emotionless-Akaashi-mode and took an even longer sip of his now cold coffee to solidify his composure.

“Yes, it did. Thank you Tsukishima,” stated Akaashi flatly.

“No problem. When are you going to tell him?” Kei had no desire to press further into Akaashi’s personal feelings.

“I’m not. I can’t.”

Akaashi’s visage was inflicted with a familiar pain. Kei had felt the same emotion himself, he saw those cracks festering onto Akaashi’s state of mind. He could see the doubts swimming into Akaashi’s eyes that would leave him dizzy and longing.

“Akaashi.”

He met Kei’s gaze, and promptly gave in. Akaashi was not about to start crying in a coffee shop where he could feel the stares of a family behind him. Instead, he spilled out all the thoughts that were imprisoned in his mind.

“It’s the classic ‘ I don’t want to ruin our friendship! ’ kind of deal, I know. In the stories and movies the person ends up confessing anyways and of course, the other person feels the same way because this is a romance, coming-of-age movie after all! But this is real life! Just because it worked out for you and Yamaguchi doesn’t mean I get a happy ending too!” The subtle jab at the end, most likely unintentional, made Kei feel a dull guilt.

“I’ve known that I’ve been in love with him, I wish I was that stupid. This was just my reality check. I go to all of his games no matter what, just because he wants me there. Do you know how much I’ve missed out on from loving him? Koutarou could ask me to give him the world, for fuck’s sake, and I would do it. Yet, I feel like throwing up every time he asks me to set to him with that godforsaken confidence in his eye.”

“Yes, I’m in love with Bokuto, but I can’t fucking live like this!”

Kei had never seen Akaashi express so much emotion in his years of knowing him. It was more than every year combined. Kei cursed the emptiness he felt. He couldn’t understand what Akaashi was feeling.

Venting his emotions did nothing to stop the tears already dripping down Akaashi’s face. Upon realizing this, the setter shamefully wiped the wetness from his face with his jacket sleeve. No, Bokuto’s jacket sleeve. The player gave it to Akaashi the previous day because it was cold outside and Akaashi didn’t bring anything to keep him warm.

“Keiji! I can’t let you get sick! I would be a terrible person if I let you suffer like this,” screeched Bokuto. The same excitable man ended up getting sick and Akaashi took care of him because he felt guilty.

An uncharacteristic hand grasped Akaashi’s shoulder. Kei had reached out to him, just like that. Akaashi couldn’t help but halt his downward spiral and look up in complete surprise.

“Just tell him. If he rejects you, whatever. Then you can get over him and stop giving him everything. If not, then there you go.” Kei said firmly.

While it was just a hand on his shoulder and some words of common sense, the gesture being from Kei created a new level of authenticity. Kei felt uncomfortable as all hell for doing this, but he couldn’t watch Akaashi dig himself into such a deep hole. It was by no means a gesture of comfort, but rather of desperation.

“Text me how it goes, okay?” Kei moved to get up and leave. He felt terrible for leaving all too suddenly, but he knew this wasn’t his area of expertise.

Akaashi understood.

Akaashi picked up his emotions that he had scattered all over the table and neatly put them back inside of his head. He dusted off the crumbs of emotional vulnerability from the table. It was a moment of instability, but Akaashi had managed to pack it all down. No more troublesome Akaashi burdening his friends with his useless feelings. Everything was back in its rightful place in the universe.

“Goodbye, Tsukishima. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.”

[shotsbyshae]

One More Habit

Warnings: None. Just a little fluff and a little mischief.

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary:  Loki is fascinated by you, because he knows you’re hiding a secret from the rest of the team and he’s determined to figure you out.

A/N: This is for @cake-writes 1k followers celebration. Congrats! This is a  moodboard prompt, which I loved and I enjoyed using everyone’s favorite trickster.

Song: One More Habit by Kelsey Waters

What doesn't kill you makes you want it more.

The sound of the quinjet taking off drowns out the small conversations of the rest of the team as you stand in the back, away from everyone else. You’re so caught up and lost in your own thoughts you don’t notice the man come up beside you, much less hear him speak to you.

“Did you hear me?” Loki questions as he touches your shoulder carefully, gaining your attention, and he points to your left hand. “You’re bleeding.”

You glance, seeing the blood dripping from your fingertips, and you remember not hearing the gunshot, but the sharp, burning sensation on your forearm as the bullet sliced through the muscle. It had happened so quickly that you had forgotten about it during the chaos, but now the adrenaline high is subsiding, and the pain is beginning to breakthrough.

“Let’s take a look,” the man’s voice is calm as he eases you into a seat.

“I’m fine,” you pull your sleeve back gingerly, the fabric burns as it scrapes across the open wound. “Just a scratch.”

The deep gash on your forearm is much more than a scratch and Loki rolls his eyes before moving away from you, only to return moments later with a first aid kid. He kneels in front of you, opening the white box on the floor beside him, “I imagine Bruce would say you need stitches.”

“Good thing Bruce isn’t here,” your snarky comment is followed by a sharp hiss as the antiseptic he uses feels like fire burning its way through the exposed muscle and tissue. “Sonofabitch.”

You see the smirk on his lips before he goes to work meticulously bandaging your arm. Loki’s been staying at the compound for three months now and this is the first mission you’ve been on with him. Other than the occasional small talk in the common area, you haven’t exactly tried to get to know the Asgardian, after all, he’s distant himself and it’s not like you’re a social butterfly. Loki moves his hand to cover the bandage, then you begin feel the coolness seeping through the material – easing the burning sensation – and he glances up at you with a knowing smile.

“How?” You look at him curiously as the cold from his hand continues to soothe your wound.

“Frost giant,” he answers casually with a smile which you reciprocate.

***

Loki places the first aid kit on the empty seat beside him as he slowly sinks into the one next to his brother. Thor is leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, having watched his brother tend to your injury.

“That was nice of you,” he glances over to the trickster, his face is covered in dirt and sweat from the mission. “I thought you disliked humans.”

“I’m not overly fond of them,” Loki responds, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

“Don’t you have you better things to do?” Thor furrows his brow at his brother’s curiosity in you.

“No,” the answer is quick as Loki leans forehead, placing his elbows on his knees, imitating his brother’s stance. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“About what?” The blonde’s tone is low as he glances back over toward you, watching as you read from a book you pulled from you bag moments ago.

“Everytime she returns from a mission,” Loki begins quietly, “she leaves the compound and doesn’t return until the next morning.”

Thor looks back over to his brother in disbelief, “So do Barnes and Wilson, she’s probably blowing off steam.”

“Yes, but,” he adds, “she’s always dressed as if she’s going to one of Stark’s galas and I found a book of matches on her desk from a Sapphire Club.”

“Brother,” Thor begins to interrupt him, but Loki continues.

“It’s a high-class gentleman’s club with only the wealthiest of patrons. I beginning to think Stark’s favorite human isn’t quite as innocent as she seems.”

“Maybe you should leave it alone,” Thor says simply, cutting his eyes over to his brother.

“I wish I could.” Loki responds, but there’s a familiar darkness in your eyes which has him yearning to learn more about you

***

The club is bustling with men in expensive suits and scantily clad women catering to them. Not wanting to stand out from the crowd, you paired your favorite red heels with a strapless black sequin dress. It stops mid-thigh and clings to every curve of your body. You had arrived early and now sit patiently waiting at the end of the bar, a Marlboro Black rests between your fingers while you take a sip from the glass of bourbon in front of you. You don’t usually smoke, but you find the menthol soothing as you take a drag from the cigarette. It’s the small pleasures you allow yourself to indulge in, but they also help maintain your image in a place like this.

You smell him before he sits down on the barstool next to you. His cologne is distinct from anyone else on the team, with notes of citrus and cedar. He smells like a warm summer day – a sexy, warm summer day – which is ironic considering he is the darkest person in the compound.

“How’s the arm?” He questions, glancing at the bandage as he adjusts his suit jacket.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you stub the cigarette out in the ashtray in annoyance, staring straight ahead.

“What are you doing here? This doesn’t strike me as your preferred type of establishment,” Loki comments, motioning for the bartender.

“You don’t know me Loki,” the words fall from your lips sharply. “It’s probably best we keep it that way.”  

His eyes follow you as you stand up from the barstool and move to the opposite end of the club. You approach the door with the broad-shouldered, bald man guarding it and he gives you a small nod before he allows you passage into the room.

***

You and the four other sketchy individuals at the poker table have been playing for nearly forty-five minutes when the back door is kicked in, causing everyone at the table to panic, guns are reached for but not drawn as police officers dressed in full tactical gear rush in – weapons already drawn. Quickly, you slip out of the room unnoticed, shoving the stack of cash into your bag, hearing one of the players yelling from behind you, “Wait! Where’d the girl go?”

You pick up your pace, the rest of the club unphased by the events happening in the backroom. Various dancers are still entertaining their upper-class clientele of men as your heart races, trying to figure out the best escape route; that’s when you spot Loki still sitting at the end of the bar. Making your way over to him, you grab him by the arm, casually pulling him from the barstool. A look of confusion crosses his features as he follows you, watching as you back yourself against the wall, pulling him close to you.

“What –"

Your eyes glance at the few officers who are slowly making their way through the club, their weapons put away, as to not cause a scene. Noticing the frightened expression on your face, Loki’s eyes follow your gaze. “Go with it,” you whisper as he his eyes flick back to you. You slip your hand up and around his neck smoothly, pulling his lips to yours and you’re surprised by how soft they feel against your own as you keep your hand on his neck – holding him in place. His whole body had tensed up at your actions, but now he relaxes as his hands move to your shoulders cautiously. His lips begin to part hesitantly, as if gauging the situation – just how far do you want to take this ruse – and you smile slightly against his lips as you slip your tongue past his teeth into the warmth of his mouth, pressing against his tongue lightly.

The action unleashes the man before you and suddenly he's fighting for control of the kiss as he pushes you further into the wall – his body flush against yours.  The music, the officers, the entire club disappears for a brief moment as you get lost in the kiss – his mouth laying claim to you like no one else has in a long time.

You finally bring yourself back to the present and pull away quickly, looking past his shoulder to see that the officers have cleared out. You’re still trying to catch your breath as you pat his shoulder, “We should go.”

Loki cuts his eyes back to you – a small sigh escaping his lips at how abruptly you ended the kiss. Mortals usually annoyed him more than anything else, but you – you intrigue him for some reason. The fact you don’t seem remotely phased by his kiss irritates him more than he thought possible, so why does he enjoy it?

***

The two of you have walked for several blocks before you take a quick right into a small park, walking around the fence with the sign that reads Park open from 7am-7pm ignoring it. Stopping for a moment to slip your red heels from your feet. The soft grass a welcome relief beneath your aching feet.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Loki finally questions as he slips out of his jacket, seeing you shake off a chill. The late-night air is much cooler than it was earlier. He carefully drapes the coat over your shoulders, and you glance up at him with a smile of appreciation.

“Thanks,” you begin, “there’s not much to tell, just a misunderstanding.”

“Uh huh,” Loki shoves his hands into his pants pockets as the two of you continue across the grass. “Does that happen often?” He glances over, watching as you keep your eyes cast downward at your feet. When you don’t offer a response he continues, “Because I’ve noticed you do this frequently – going out alone.”

“You've been watching me?” The question is more curious than accusational.

“You’re one of the few people in the compound I can’t quite figure out. You keep your distance,” he turns to look at you, watching as you pick at the fraying edge of the bandage on your arm.

“It’s easier to keep my distance,” your words are slightly cold, but straightforward. “I tend to break things.”

Loki looks at you slightly stunned by that statement, but he gives a small nod of understanding, “I can relate – so what’s your secret? Why were you hiding from the police?”

You glance over at him, hesitating for a moment before you lift your bag up, carefully opening it to show him the stacks of cash stuffed inside. He looks inside the bag, obviously impressed with the contents.

“They run a high stakes poker game out of the backroom of the Sapphire Club,” you begin to explain. “I play every so often, but the guys aren't too fond of me because luck always goes my way."

Loki watches you curiously as you speak, a small smile forming on his lips, “In other words – you cheat.”

“Sometimes,” the smile on your face mischievous. “Sometimes, I just hustle a little.” Loki's expression is one of confusion at your phrase, so you clarify for him. “I sweet talk wealthy men out of their money.”

He shakes his head with a laugh because that’s the last thing he was expecting from you. He had his assumptions as to what you were doing after missions but moonlighting as a con artist was not one of them. “Does anyone else know?”

“Tony,” you reply, “but that’s because I tried to hustle him once. That’s how I ended up at the compound.”

“I’m curious as to why though?” Loki is still trying to understand where you’re coming from.

“What can I say?” You look up at him innocently. “It’s my vice – I mean we all have bad habits – mine’s just more lucrative.” You dig in your bag for your phone and check the time. “Come on – it’s not too late.” You pick up your pace and the Asgardian follows along behind you, wondering where you're leading him to.

***

After several minutes of walking, you finally come to a stop in front of an old building and you quickly knock on the door. Loki waits patiently with you as an older woman with greying blonde hair slowly opens the door to greet you with a warm smile.

“It's not as much as last time,” you say as you pull the cash from your bag before you pass it to her.

“Honey, anything is blessing,” she replies appreciatively as she accepts the cash. “You are an angel.”

“You took care of me when I needed it,” the response is humble.

“Thank you,” the woman kisses your cheek lightly.

“Welcome,” you give her a look of endearment. “I’ll see you next week.”

You're halfway back down the alley before Loki questions you, “Who was that woman?”

“She runs the local children’s home,” you say nonchalantly.

“You steal from the rich,” he begins, raising an eyebrow, “to give to the less fortunate.”

“Just call me Robin of Loxley,” you comment as you pull a solid black Rolex watch from inside your bag, handing it over to Loki. “Here you go.”

“Wha–” the disbelief on his face is almost comical as he takes his watch from you, “When did you take that?”

“When I had my tongue in your mouth,” you smirk up at him. “Sorry, it’s kind of a habit.”

Loki narrows his eyes slightly at you, all the revelations about you leaving him more intrigued than he was at the beginning of the night, “You little minx.”

***

A week later you take one last look in the mirror, a large diamond choker is draped across your collarbone elegantly and you smooth out the dark blue dress you’re wearing. You’d just returned from a mission in Beijing with Steve and Natasha and seeing the captain in his stealth suit had reminded you of this little number you had hanging in your closet. You smile to yourself before you exit your room, surprised to see a sharply dressed Asgardian leaning against the opposite wall.

“Going somewhere?” You raise an eyebrow curiously, closing the door to your room.

“With you,” he responds, pushing off the wall and walking towards you.

“Oh, no you’re not.”

“My dear,” Loki begins with a smile, “with the right partner – think of the possibilities.”

“I don’t want a partner,” you protest, turning your back to your bedroom door as he advances dangerously close to you. “Remember, I break things.”

“Good thing I’m already broken,” his words are soft as he leans in, brushing his lips against yours.

It’s a gentle, pure kiss which takes you by surprise, because it has you feeling anything but pure. You feel it at your core, longing for his lips to open as they had before and his tongue to slide roughly against yours. The thought of slipping back into your room with him crosses your mind. You watch him with confusion as he pulls away, a boyish grin spreading across his face, and you can’t help but think he could easily become another bad habit of yours. He takes a step back and stares at you intensely for a moment, before he raises his hand, your diamond necklace dangling loosely from his fingertips. Your eyes widen in shock as you reach for your neck. You can’t believe you let him play you like that – he was good – you had to give him that.

“And that was without tongue,” he quips, moving to place the necklace back around your neck. “Are you sure you don’t want a partner?”

You narrow your eyes at the man as you contemplate the idea. Having him around could mean double the take in certain jobs, plus he looks damn fine in a suit, “What are you the god of again?”

“Mischief.”

[cristalknife]

Kadam Week 2021 Day 2 ~ You pop on that song one more time...

So this is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net  you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

Hopefully, I'll figure out how to format in here to make it readable (please don't hold your breath on my behalf)

That said the second prompt is Differing Tastes.

I ended up with a confrontation between Adam and Kurt, with both ending up involuntarily hurting each other, though they do solve it by the end... (if you've not noticed yet the title offers a little light on the tone of the fic, it's inspired by the song Cell Block Tango from the musical Chicago

So here we go, I present to you

You pop on that song one more time...  (or read on ao3)

Adam had never been a confrontational guy, in fact he had always tried to stay as far away from conflicts as possible.

If something was not of his liking, or too much, he mastered the art of quietly walk away and not let things bother him too much.

All in all he had always thought of himself as a rather patient and quite zen person. That was until he had to reconsider all he knew about himself.

What he had always seen as perfectly strategical retreats, now that the option was no longer available, started to look more like avoidance...

Which all in all it wasn't something that bad per se... It was more the frustration of not really having other choices left.

Point was, even when they started living together, Kurt and he didn't have that much overlapping free time. Their schedules had always been slightly out of sync, giving both of them plenty of time to keep up the habits they had when they were living alone.

Adam himself had been more often than not out the house, between his two jobs and auditions. And Kurt had school and his job at Vogue, where he had gotten full employee status, with the much needed raise that allowed him to stop working at the diner constantly.

All things considered it was not so surprising that for the almost ten months they had lived together the issue hadn't come up before.

The problem was that with Adam landing a role, neither had expected just how much of his time would be freed, time he was going to need to work on his own.

Any other day he could have just walked out and stayed at the theatre. Which he did in the past, and on some days he preferred that choice, because then he could work out not only on the memorising but also on his cues, or getting more comfortable with the acoustic.

The problem however was that for the next couple of weeks the theatre was going to be the domain of the technical team, transforming the bare stage into the brand new world Adam and the rest of the cast would move around.

It wasn't even the fact that the music was a disturbance on itself, even if he was starting to wish for some quiet, as more and more he found himself distracted listening in rather than concentrating on his own work.

Adam used to think that he was pretty good at tuning down the distractions, and maybe if it hadn’t been just that single song being played on an infinite repetitive loop, maybe then he could have managed.

Though something deep down in his mind was quickly starting to believe that wouldn't be the case, no matter how much Adam wished for it.

No, what he found as the most distracting factor was that Kurt sang and hummed along with the song.

And not even always on the same point, so there was this infinite repeat of the base song peppered up with snippets of Kurt's voice, that sounded like he was trying to memorise it through repetition.

It wasn’t that he didn't love listening to his boyfriend's voice, on the contrary, he adored hearing Kurt sing.

But in that moment he had work to do, and it was more a matter that his frustration was mounting and he couldn't even leave the house.

Well, technically he could, but he had no access to other places where to go and try out lines that were inside, and with the rain pouring outside, other than make it a very cold and damp day to attempt to stay in a park, it was just an invitation to get sick going out in such weather for no good unavoidable reason.

Checking the clock once more Adam saw it was hastily approaching the third hour straight, and what by now Adam was sure it was past the fiftieth time the song played.

Yet Kurt was giving no signs of being done anytime soon.

Adam on the other hand was past done.

He walked to what was their studio slash sewing room, where Kurt was currently residing and knocked three times, without an answer.

Going against every notion of politeness he had been raised with, he opened the door, made a beeline to the stereo and turned it off without saying a single word.

Kurt looked up surprised and asked quite shocked "What?"

Adam tensed up, the moment of silence had been a blessing that got interrupted too soon.

He found himself almost shaking as he hissed between his clenched teeth "If you pop on that song one more time, I'll end up doing something we'd both regret. So please, stop it."

In a way, knowing at least some of the ‘friends’ that Kurt used to have, should have prepared Adam that any disagreement between them would have needed to be handled with probably more care or at least a cleared head than he did.

In his defence though, Adam really thought that Kurt wouldn't have had the habit to keep a single song in a repeat loop for literally hours. Not when his repertoire was so vast and diverse.

A single look at Kurt was all it took for Adam to see how clearly pissed off his boyfriend was when he replied "The heck are you talking about? I haven't done anything out of the ordinary."

Adam released a frustrated breath "It's been hours, literally three damn hours of that song playing in constant repeat loop and you randomly singing along with it"

Kurt passed in a flash from mad to briefly hurt before assuming a defensive stance Adam recognised all too well…

After all, he had been there, around Kurt's supposed friends enough times to see it appearing.

He had also always been there to pick up all the pieces afterwards.

Having his boyfriend react that way with him, in their home, hurt, badly.

And he knew, right there and then, that they were both handling this situation badly. So he kept his lips pressed into a thin line, refraining from saying anything until he had allowed Kurt to say his piece of mind.

"I didn't know my voice would be so annoying to you, could have fooled me… Fine, I'll shut up, now could you please go? I'd rather not fight anymore and I need to be alone now, don’t worry you won’t hear another peep from me."

Any other moment Adam would have been more than willing to allow Kurt the space he needed.

However, on this particular occasion, leaving was exactly the worst thing he could do, because either Kurt had not understood what he meant, or Adam himself had not been clear enough, leaving half of his thoughts in his mind. Either options were equally possible.

Kurt was standing in front of his sewing machine, rigid as a statue, his defences up.

Adam moved from the stereo to the door, grateful for the first time that it opened toward the inside of the room.

Once he was standing in front of the door, he turned and leaned on it, keeping his hands behind his back resting on them. Adam took a deep breath forcing his own tense body to relax.

Looking up at Kurt, who now had his lips pressed and his arm crossed defensively at his chest, Adam let out another soft sigh and licked his lips "Kurt it's not your voice, if anything that was the only delightful part of that torture."

Kurt snorted immovable "That's not what I've heard you saying"

Adam offered a small scoff "Love what I've said and what you've heard are two different things. And no I cannot get out of here letting you think what you heard is correct. Not when it's miles and miles away from what I was saying, or at least what I was trying to say."

And for the first time, looking at the doubts crossing Kurt's face was a sight Adam never knew he would come to rejoice in seeing.

Kurt slowly unclenched his arms and took a small step toward Adam, just enough to step behind the chair he had been sitting before, his hands holding on its back.

While both Kurt's and Adam's own position were not exactly mirroring each other, their stance was open enough that it gave Adam some hope, even more when Kurt finally asked concisely "Then what were you trying to say?"

Adam could see the refrain it took Kurt to not launching another attack, after all Adam had seen ‘friendly sharing of opinions’ that in his view of the world looked and sounded more like full blown fights.

At least he was being given the benefit of the doubt, and not considered directly hostile anymore. It was progress…

Adam pondered on how to answer that without raising again all of Kurt's defences.

"I never expected how landing a role would allow me to be more at home than I had before. Nor how much more of our time at home, would be time during which we both have things we need to do."

Kurt nodded with a small frown, one that Adam couldn't really fault him. This far Adam had tried to not be invasive and allowed his boyfriend to keep going on as usual, and that was all on Adam himself.

"I know now this is on me, I didn't want to be a bother and disrupt what must have been solid habits for you. If that was what you needed for school, I certainly didn't want to risk messing that up for you. What I had not considered, was that the way I've dealt with it, might not be always possible..."

He saw the moment when his words started to sink in and Kurt’s frown deepened, his lips parting surprised "Wait, you mean the past few weeks you went to the theatre even if you didn't have to?"

Adam looked down, feeling a little ashamed, said it like that, it sounded more like he was avoiding to be with his boyfriend, while in his intention it was more like letting Kurt keeping his safe space to study.

He nodded while adding softly "That was the final result yes, but not because I didn't want to be with you, I just didn't want to disturb you"

Looking up he was surprised that Kurt took few steps toward him, releasing and leaving behind the chair he was holding on "And you kept trying to do that even when I was the one disturbing you while you were trying to prepare for work..."

Adam bit his lower lip, then looked into Kurt's eyes saying sincerely "I wasn't disturbed by your voice."

Kurt took an almost exasperated look and huffed out a breath, that still managed to sound fond, "Ok, it was not my voice that disturbed you, but clearly we wouldn't be here if everything was fine, so what was wrong? The song? The volume? Me singing on top of the song only in certain points?"

Adam offered a small smile in return "The fact that you played that one single song in a loop. I didn't expect that from you, and it's not a bad thing per se. But I find it too distracting, because it registers into my mind as an attempt to master it, which then means I need to listen to it to find out where is the thing that sounds wrong so it could be fixed..."

Kurt closed the remaining distance between them standing right in front of Adam "And your natural inclination of wanting to help first everyone else but yourself worked against you, because then you were focusing on it and not on what you needed to do. The situation had probably not been helped by the fact that it went on for further than the two consecutive hours vocal sessions are suggested to last, at their longest. It must have driven you up the wall…"

Adam nodded, the last bit of tension finally starting to leave his frame

"I guess it did a little, yeah, and then I didn't know how to come in here and ask, so I simply kept waiting and hoping you'd be done soon."

Kurt hummed softly, his body as well more relaxed than it was since the moment Adam had walked inside the room "And when I didn't you came in. And here we are."

Adam gave a short nod but quipped "On my defence, I did knock before coming in, three times and you didn't answer"

Kurt shook his head with a fond smile on his face "You don't have to knock in our home luv, I had the door closed hoping the noise I was bound to make wouldn't be too much, I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working for your role. Usually when I'm home alone I leave the door open"

Adam was surprised by this new piece of information. "I didn't notice that"

Kurt nodded and smiled softly "That's because usually I try to be done before you return home, or at least to have reached a point where it's fine to stop at a moment notice so that when I hear the keys on the door I can set everything aside. I just wanted to make sure that we could have time together, especially when our schedules kept us apart."

Adam nodded and stepped away from the door to stand right in front of Kurt "Would it be ok with you to use the headphones if you have to keep a song in a repeat loop?"

Kurt raised a hand to caress Adam's cheek "Are you sure that me randomly singing snipped of the same song until I'm done wouldn't be just as disturbing?"

Adam turned his head and placed a kiss on the palm of Kurt's hand answering honestly "No, I am not sure, I don't know if I'd end up being just as distracted or frustrated in that scenario. I am just assuming, that I wouldn't register it in such a much different way than rehearsing with other actors on stage, while we each work on different pieces. If I'm mistaken can I come and say something then?"

Kurt rested his forehead against Adam's and nuzzled the tip of their noses together "You can come and talk to me anytime. Next time please come talk to me before you feel this way."

Kurt then closed his eyes taking a ragged breath before letting the words coming out as raw as the thoughts that generated them were " I - I'm not good with confrontations. I know I take things too personally. And I know, I do know you are not like them. It's just, at times it’s so difficult to remember that. And I never seen you so short tempered before. Not that I want you to be cross with me, but don't let me push you so hard and so past your lines in the sands that I lose you, I don't think I could stand that"

Adam raised his hands to cradle Kurt's face in them and pressed a small loving kiss on Kurt's lips before closing his own eyes. Without moving he said softly "I am not going to walk away from you without a fight. But I prefer avoid confrontation myself, so please still check from time to time? Let us give the chance to learn how to push and pull just enough that neither of us reaches the point of feeling it's too much to bear"

Kurt nodded and then with a smile he placed a small kiss on the tip of Adam’s nose before booping it gently “Now I am going to find myself a pair of headphones to take in here and then start on preparing lunch, while you get back to work until the food is ready and we take a break before getting back to work. How does that sound?”

Adam smiled and tilted his head up so he could leave a kiss on the finger still resting on his nose “I love that plan.”

~The End~

[artsystranger]

Karma’s Playlist Chapter 1

Karma’s Playlist. Chapter 1. Introduction to the Snow.

Content: Beetlejuice/OC, language, inappropriate beetle behavior, he’s a creep what do you expect, oh my god they were roommates Word Count: 7040 Summary: Karmilla has always been able to see ghosts; something that becomes immediately more troublesome than ever when she makes eye contact with the sandworm-dodging demon-ghost. Author’s Note: I have an actual playlist for Karma. I will be using songs in there as titles for chapters. Sometimes the songs will be very telling on what’s going to be happening in the chapter.

The rain had started in the middle of her shift, something she should’ve expected given how cloudy it had been lately. It was just a light rain, though, so she felt her jacket would suffice for the short amount of time she would be out in it. The sound of the continuous pitter-patter of drops soothed her, letting her mind settle easier into the mindless monotony of her job.

Soon enough, her shift was over and she was able to leave. As she tugged on her jacket, she brainstormed on how fast she was going to have to walk to the bus stop while staying as dry as possible. There were a few trees she could take cover in, but they, of course, only did so much good. With a heavy sigh, wishing she wore a thicker jacket, she pushed through the store’s door and began her trek.

It wasn’t that far of a walk to her bus stop, thankfully. Just around two blocks. With her quick pace and there being so few people out on the streets thanks to the rain, she was able to get to the bus stop cover with her jacket being minimally soaked through. With a sigh of relief, she took a seat at one end of the bench, which had remained dry thanks to the metal cover surrounding it. An older woman sat at the other end, giving Karmilla a smile and a nod.

As she relaxed in her seat, bringing out her phone to pass the time, the rain began to pick up, desaturating the area with it’s dreary greys. It would’ve been much more enjoyable if she didn’t have one last walk to suffer through after the bus ride. Still, the sound was nice and helped her space out and let time pass.

“FUCK!” The shout came from across the street, followed by cackling laughter.

Looking up, Karmilla saw a man standing under a cloth covering that now has a large hole in it, presumably because it wasn’t able to handle the sudden downpour. He was soaked head to toe, staring in disbelief as he continued to stand under the hole. To the left of the man was where the cackling was coming from; a vividly green-haired individual in strikingly odd clothing, pointing and laughing at the victim of misfortune. While his style could by eccentricism, his floating mid-air as he laughed could not.

Karmilla couldn’t stop herself from staring at him, exasperation overtaking her mind. It had been a long while since she had seen a ghost out and about, but never one quite as relaxed or unconcerned as this one. Either he didn’t know about the weird, ghost-eating worms that evaded her supernatural perception or he had a way of avoiding them.

As a whole, ghosts were not a new development for her. She had always been able to see them ever since she was little, even if she didn’t know why. They were few and far between but even the occasional sighting and telling her mom of such had landed her being sent to many doctors to try and see what was going on in her head. Still, the sightings of ghosts didn’t seem to be enough for doctors to diagnose her with any hallucinatory disorders. Something she was very happy to escape.

When she came back to reality, the drenched man had wandered away down the street, leaving the ghost’s laughter dying out slowly before it stopped very suddenly, his interest in that small accident being lost. His dingy shoes rested on the ground as he started looking around, as if trying to decide something. His scanning gaze stopped very quickly when he noticed the woman staring at him.

Karmilla diverted her gaze quickly down to her phone, acting as though she was very much engrossed with whatever was on it. She flicked through her screens, looking through different social media to try and distract herself from the green-haired stranger, hoping that he would think she was just looking past him and go on his merry way. She had a feeling this wasn’t the case when she felt a lingering chill begin to hover in front of her. She looked slowly up from her phone to the upside-down, pale face that she had seen across the street. With the sudden closeness, she could very clearly see patchy stubble, which was mostly green, very much matching his darker-rooted to vibrant green hair. With it just being stubble, it seemed that his cheeks were also stained green for whatever reason.

As a smile started to brighten his face, she looked back down on her phone from his dark, trying one last time to ignore him.

“You can see me!”

There was a pause for response, but she just continued looking at her phone, pretending she saw nothing. She’s found that talking to ghosts in public brings nothing but weird stares and trouble. This one was not easily thrown off, however.

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” he shouted, rotating back right-ways up before bending down and almost shoving his face into her’s. She flinched back just a bit, but pulled her phone closer through his cold face, trying harder to ignore him. “Our eyes met! Our souls bonded! Well, maybe not my soul, but- LOOK AT ME!”

Karmilla heaved a sigh, letting her hands and phone fall into her lap before giving in and looking at him. He looked particularly pleased with himself when her eyes met his own again.

“You got some pretty greens there, babes.” He kept his face uncomfortably close to hers, smiling almost lecherously at her.

She leaned as far back into the bench as she could, trying to create some space as she looked off to the side. His cold presence moved from her front to her side, taking a seat on the bench very close to her. From the chill behind her, she could easily assume that he had stretched his arm out to rest behind her. This guy really had no concept of personal space.

“You’re not just gonna sit there and ignore me, are you, babes?” He was facing her, legs spread with an arm still resting behind her back.

Looking down at her phone again, she clicked on the closest thing with a text box and typed out, “Not gonna talk to a ghost in public.”

He leaned over her shoulder watching her type, silently mouth the words as she typed them. The ghost was quiet for a moment, staring deadpan at her phone and then back at her face. “You’re a millennial, aren’t you? Don’t you all carry fuckin’ headphones or something? Just pretend you’re calling someone. You know how to do that, right?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him.

“Hey, it’s true and you know it! Don’t roll your beautiful eyes at me and act like it isn’t!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face a few times before pointing to himself. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”

She didn’t look full over at him, but gave him a sidelong look.

“Talk to me, or I’ll start begging. Ask anyone who knows me, I am very good at being annoying.” The expression he had on his face made her believe that he was 100% serious.

Suppressing an annoyed sigh and seeing as she wasn’t going to be able to get rid of him any time soon, she shifted her legs out so she could reach into her pocket and grab her ear buds. As she plugged them into her phone and connected them to her ears, she could feel the green-haired ghost smiling very contentedly at her.

“You’re pretty easy, huh?”

Her eye twitched as she tried to keep herself from outwardly grimacing. Once she had herself situated in as relaxed a way as she could get, she finally spoke, her tone very deadpan. “Hello?”

“You got a very sexy voice, lady. Such a nice one to come back to, just for little ol’ me.” He relaxed back into the bench, stretching his legs forward. Were he corporeal, he would’ve surely been leaning his head against her tensed shoulder. “Oh, babes, it’s been so long since someone has talked to me and not through me. There’s lots of interesting, juicy conversations out there but, holy fuck, sometimes a dead guy just needs a little back and forth.”

“Sure, but did you need something?” Karmilla did her best to keep her gaze either forward or down at her phone, not wanting to draw anymore attention to her.

There was a short pause between them as the ghost shifted in his seat again, turning himself toward her, the grin reappearing on his lips. “What? A creepy, old demon can’t just strike up a conversation with a sexy lady?”

God fucking dammit. “Oooh, a demon? Then definitely no.” She wasn’t exactly sure if he was serious about the whole demon thing, but there was a lot she still didn’t know about what exactly resides in the Netherworld.

Sneaking a small peak over at him, she noticed a few small changes. His dark eyes had taken up a golden spark while his hair seemed to have dimmed. She could’ve sworn she saw some strands of red coming to the surface. He held a hand against his chest, mocking a shock of pain. He was still grinning, but it looked sharper now. She couldn’t really explain it, but the change in his demeanor was overall more threatening than before.

“Well, shit. Your words cut me so deep.” His voice seemed a bit more rough now too. It’d probably be an attractive thing were she not in public and felt her anxiety begin to well up. Something about her own expression must have pleased him, as the new colors began to fade away and he relaxed again. “You know, your reaction to everything so far is very chill. I usually prefer to get at least one good scream, but-- for you-- I’d gladly skip to-”

“Bus is here,” she interrupted him. During his brief spiel, she heard the familiar engine of the approaching bus. She waited for it to get halfway down the street before standing from her seat, remaining in cover from the rain.

“Oh? And where is that fine ass of yours headed?” His choice of words made her think he was almost certainly staring at her aforementioned ass.

“Home,” she said simply. “I’ll talk to you more when I get there.”

“A lady usually has to buy me dinner before I let her take me home, but for you, babes, I’ll wave it.”

As the bus pulled up, she felt the older lady who had been sitting at the other end of the bench step up next to her. When the doors to the bus opened up, Karmilla gestured her arm forward and let her get onboard first. The older woman thanked her with a nod and a warm smile before moving as quickly as she could to the steps of the bus.

“I woulda tripped her.”

His voice suddenly in her ear made her jump. She had not noticed the cold almost fully encompassing her back, like he was almost pressed up against her. She took a deep, calming breath before stepping into the rain and into the warmer shelter of the bus. Of course, it didn’t stay warm, as she felt the ghost-demon following after her. It was a bit irritating but easy enough to deal with, she guessed. When she found and settled into a seat, she pulled the buds from her ears and phone, wrapping the wire around her hand before shoving it back into her pocket. Even if there wasn’t any jostling from him sitting down, she could feel the cold and see his striped form plopping down next to her.

As she brought out her phone again to help pass the time, she could see him lean over a bit to look and see what she was doing. She had a considerable number of games on her phone, most of which she had forgotten were there but kept because she might go back and play them. To keep herself busy, she pulled up a tapping rhythm and key game. It had music to go along with it but didn’t want to bring any attention her way, so she kept it muted. Scrolling through the long list of songs, she picked one of the faster ones and started tapping away at it.

The ghost stared down at Karmilla’s phone, squinting his eyes as he watched  her thumbs tap quickly away on her phone. “Jesus fucking Christ. How much time do you gotta have on your hands to keep up with that shit?”

With a little finesse, she stuck out her middle finger at him while still keeping up with the tiles as they sped down the screen.

She heard his gasp of mock offense, almost certain that he put his hand on his chest in a similar way to last time. “Well, that’s just downright rude. What a way to treat a new friend.”

His words were enough to make her pause, slipping up enough to miss a note in the game. With that song essentially over, she looked up from her phone and to the side at him. He was still leaning very close to her to watch whatever she did on her phone, but as soon as that stopped he turned his attention to her puzzled face.

“What’s up, doll? I got something on my face?” Just as he said a few bugs crawled out from his hair and ran across his face.

Unsure of what to do, she just stared wide-eyed at him before slowly turning her gaze back down to her phone. Better play a few more songs to wipe that from my memory.

“Ah, come on, that was funny! I coulda done something a lot worse. Like this!” From her periphery, she could see his hand go up to the top of his face and peel it down. Even from what little detail she could make out, she was able to tell there was nothing more to the horror than the grotesque musculature of his face.

Doing her best to communicate in a mute fashion, she made a so-so gesture with her hand, trying to say that it wasn’t so bad. Or, at least, not necessarily worse than the sudden appearance of bugs crawling over his skin.

“You’re not even looking at me,” he said, in mock offense. “You never look at me during.”

Her lips flattened out into a straight line, trying to stop the small laugh that she felt coming to the surface. Karmilla didn’t like admitting it, but his sense of humor was right up her alley. Usually, strangers had a harder time getting her to laugh. Maybe her guard was down because he was a ghost and couldn’t really do much to her, aside from visual-auditory hallucinations and gags.

She looked over to him again, after she successfully held down her laugh. The skin of his face was hanging off of his chin, revealing the muscles and tendons that made up his face. It wasn’t scary or shocking to her, just a little unsettling and surreal as she had never been able to get such a close look at facial muscles as she was now.

“Wow, really?” He had no trouble speaking apparently, even with a lack of lips. “You are a really tough cookie, aren’t ya?” After he finished his words, he slapped the slab of skin back onto his face, pushing and pulling it around to fit back where it was supposed to. “Well. I’m gonna go fuck with someone else now. BRB.”

The green demon pushed himself up from his seat and started striding down the aisle, looking for someone to properly torment with his limited power. At most, he's able to put people on edge and make them more irritable. Essentially, just being an annoying presence. Looking back down to her phone, she started again on another song, putting a majority of attention on it as she waited for the bus to reach her stop. She would occasionally hear the angry grumbling and cursing of another passenger as the demon-ghost messed with him.

Time passed relatively quickly on the bus, reaching her stop just as another round of her game came to a close. As soon as the bus came to a halt, she got up from her seat and made her way back down the aisle to get off.

“Aw, are we leavin’ already? I was this close on getting this guy to break,” the specter called after her as she walked on by, not responding to him. He hummed for a second in thought before fucking with his victim one last time before following after his friend.

It was raining harder now, the cold droplets sinking easily into the fabric of her thin jacket. Keeping her electronics as close to her center as she could, she started her fast trek through the rain. She lived only a few blocks away from the stop, so-- if the crosswalk lights were kind to her-- she wouldn't have to be in the rain for too long. If they weren’t working in her favor and there was no one hurtling down the road, she would book it across the street. Anything to get out of the beating, cold rain.

Minutes later, she was finally able to take cover under the overhang of her small apartment building. It wasn’t the fanciest place, but it also wasn’t the dingiest. The only thing that could be construed as concerning was the ivy growing up the front. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she unlocked the door and pushed her way in, getting a loud buzzing noise as it closed and locked behind her. The inside was similar to it’s exterior, nothing really standing out in the lobby aside from a few dreary paintings and a small grid of mailboxes on the wall. Dredging past it, she started ascending the steps to her apartment. It was days like these that made her wish she had gotten one that was closer to the ground instead of being at the top of the stairway. Given the small size of the building, there wasn’t any room for an elevator to be put in, making it virtually inaccessible to those with physical disabilities.

As the ghost followed her, floating up the steps rather than walking them, he would occasionally divert from the path to sneak a peek inside the other apartments. This one definitely had no sense of personal space so it wasn’t really surprising to her that he would be ignoring her neighbors right to privacy.

Finally reaching the last residential floor of the building, she walked up to her door and started unlocking it. By the time she got it open, the demon-ghost was by her side again, passing through the doorway before her.

“Oh, yeah, just go right ahead. That’s fine,” Karmilla mumbled, finally feeling like she was allowed to speak now that she was home. She followed in after him, closing and locking the door behind them. When she turned back around, she saw him still standing in the short entrance hall leading into the rest of her apartment.

“You know, I did not peg you as a dog person,” he said, still not moving forward.

Even though she knew she could pass through him, she opted for skirting around him instead, not wanting to deal with the uncomfortable chill and feeling that happened whenever you passed through a ghost. At the end of the hall sat her dog. Her tail had stopped slapping against the floorboards as soon as her new ghostly tag-along showed up.

“That’s Bingo. She’s not a fan of supernatural stuff,” Karmilla said as she walked by the alert Malinois, who continued to stare at the ghost. “Bingo, rechts.”

Without any hesitation, the hound stood and did an about-face, walking along her person’s right side as Karmilla walked to her bedroom. Karmilla had a feeling that because of how anti-boundary the ghost was, that he would try to follow her in there to watch her. She wasn’t sure how long he was going to be sticking around, but even if it’s only for a few minutes, she felt she had to set some sort of boundary for him to follow.

As soon as she threw off her jacket and got to her dresser, she saw his green hair pushing through the wall before his head popped out.

She gave him a stern look, something easily mustered by her. “Listen, ah- I don’t even know your name, but if you’re going to be in my home you’re going to have to give me some space. Now, shoo.”

“No show then?” He made a face as if he was contemplating something, looking from her face, down to her chest, then back up again. “Alright. Fine. Because you’re my friend. And friends do friends favors.”

She wasn’t sure she liked where that thought process would end up, nor was she sure where he got the whole idea that they were friends, but at least he slipped his head back through the wall, allowing her to change in peace. Bingo laid down next to her, watching the door as Karmilla stripped out of her wet clothes.

“What is your name, by the way?” she called out.

“I can’t tell ya.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, changing out her normal bra for a sports one and replacing her shirt with a loose band tee. “What do you mean? Can’t or won’t?”

“A big ol’ no can do, babes.” His voice sounded further away that time. She guessed he was looking around. This was only a 1-bedroom apartment, so there wasn’t really going to be anything else to see. “You know how it goes; fuck with higher-ups, get cursed, lose your fun powers, and can’t give your own name to a lovely lady without jumping through hoops.”

During his explanation, she had replaced her wet jeans with grey sweats, snatching the earbuds from jeans before tossing all her wet clothes into a laundry basket in the corner of her room. As she walked out of her room with Bingo following on her right, she pulled her hair from the bun it was before shaking it out. Sitting at the end of her couch that was farthest away from her TV, she could see the ghost sticking his head through the door that went into her bathroom.

“Sounds rough,” she responded, propping her bare feet up on the coffee table as she watched him.

When he heard her voice coming from somewhere different, he brought his head back out from the bathroom and spotted her on the couch. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared and reappeared right next to her on the couch, lay back with his head at the other end, one leg fully up on the couch’s cushions as the other dangled off. He laid the back of his hand over his eyes in a dramatic fashion. “Such woe is my existence. Like taking it up the ass with no lube.”

Bingo growled lightly at the sudden appearance of the ghost on her couch, because of his proximity to Karmilla and the fact his feet were passing through her. A hand on the head was enough to quiet the dog, luckily.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but why your name?” She tried her best to not react to the cold chill from his foot sitting essentially inside her.

“Well, you know that one guy who made the fish fucker village people and had a giant free-swingin’, octopus head thing? Yeah, my name’s like his cat. You know exactly the one.” Even lying down, he was very animated while talking.

From his description, she assumed he was talking about H.P. Lovecraft. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

“HA!” He sat up suddenly, pointing at her. “I knew you were a fuckin’ nerd. But, nah, I’m just fucking with ya. My name is nowhere NEAR as terrible as that.”

As he laid back down again, her mouth flattened into a straight line, trying to keep the fact that she thought his roundabout shenanigans were funny. No need to encourage him. “Okay, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Look, babes, I love talking about me, don’t get me wrong. But I feel like we need a bit more of a back and forth here.” He was using more hand motions to emphasize his point. “You’re learning all of my deepest, darkest secrets, but I haven’t gotten anything juicy from you.”

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him. “All I asked was your name. You gave me your life story freely without answering the actual question.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault saying my name became so complicated.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

There was a pause from him as his mouth turned into a tight-lined, exaggerated frown. “Alright, you got me there.”

There was a long bout of silence between them, one that felt awkward and a little tense. Karmilla took this time to think of a way for him to tell her. He’d probably think that just spelling it out was too boring, so turning it into a game might help it go down better.

“Would a word game work as a loophole?”

He perked up at the sound of ‘game’, almost in a way a dog would when someone would say ‘play’ or ‘walk’. “A game, you say?”

“Yeah, like charades or something.”

He sat up quickly and turned to sit more properly, waving his hand off at the suggestion. “Nah, not that one. I did that last time.”

She gave him a curious look, wondering what exactly that meant. A question for a different time, she thought to herself as she stood up and went back into her bedroom to fetch a pen and a notebook. Walking back into the living room, she plopped back down on the couch before putting her feet back up on the coffee table.

“We’ll do it like this then,” she started, flipping open the notebook to a blank page and turning it horizontal. “I guess a letter. If I’m right, you tell me where it goes. If I’m wrong we’ll do a little thing of truth or dare. Good?”

A smile curled his lips. “Oh? Adding some stakes for moi?”

“Yeah, why not. Might as well make it an actual game, you know? Now, how many letters?” She laid the notebook on her lap so he wouldn’t have any problem seeing it.

After scooting close enough to her that they were touching shoulders, he started mouthing the letters counting the letters on his fingers. “Uhh, eleven.”

She drew eleven evenly sized lines on the paper. “Alright then. S.”

It takes a moment for it to click with the ghost before seemingly going over it in his head. “Go fish.”

She sighed, writing down the letter under the lines so she wouldn’t say them again later. “Not ‘go fish’, but I will choose ‘truth’.”

“Boring. Ah well.” He leaned back, stretching his arm out to rest behind her. “Much as I love just callin’ you ‘babes’ and ‘sexy’, I’d love to know to be callin’ out.”

“Don’t get any illusions that anything could or would happen, buddy,” she responded quickly with side-eyed, half glare before looking back at the page. “My name is Karmilla Nazarian. You get the surname as a freebie.”

“Karmilla, Karmilla, Karmilla,” he repeated, trying out her name. “Karma’s a good nickname for you. It even has its own-”

“Yeah, yeah, Karma’s a bitch and all that,” she cut him, tapping her pen on the journal. “Any ‘f’s?”

“Rude to cut off a guest like that, Karma,” he said as he leaned forward and shifted around so he could look at her unamused face. He could only guess how many times she’s heard that classic line in her life. “And that’s a hard no on the ‘f’, babes.”

She groaned in annoyance this time, looking up at the ceiling and blindly marking down ‘f’ in the used letters row. “Truth again, I guess.”

He tapped his chin in thought as his eyes wandered around the room before landing on her again. Then down a little lower. He kept his eyes there even as Karmilla turned her head back to face him. Completely unashamed, he turned his eyes up to her and grinned. “What cup size ya packin’?”

“Wow, you really do not shy away that shit, do you?” The question was rhetorical, asked in an astounded state of mind.

“What can I say? I know what I like,” he said cooly with a shrug. “Now, spill.”

With a few moments of hesitation, she answered. “I’m a C. Happy?”

“Very.” The wide, pleased smile on his face definitely attested to that.

Rather than going for conventional letters this time, she went with ‘x’. Third time’s the charm, right? Or maybe not, given the look her ghostly guest was giving her. Fuck.

Taking her feet off the coffee table and slapping the pen and pad down in their place, she stood up, careful to not step on Bingo and turned to face him with her hands on her hips.

“You know what? Fuck it. Dare.”

He was amused by her sudden change in attitude, giving her a toothy grin. “You’re a competitive one, aren’t you?”

“Just give me a dare already, chucklefuck.” She had to admit, she did have a competitive streak. No matter how often she would try to play it cool in any sort of game, after a few bad turns her attitude would sour and desire to throttle people would kick in.

He did, indeed, chuckle at her words. “I gotta say, I am loving this color on you, babes. Very hot. Now, why don’t you show me how flexible you are?”

The glare on her face became harder, almost looking like a snarl had she decided to bare her teeth at him. She did growl at him a little, so there’s that. “What? You don’t want me to do a handstand while singing ‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts’?”

“Not for this one, but thanks for the idea.” God, she wished he was tangible so she could punch his stupid face.

Moving her feet to keep her balanced and from falling over, she started bending slowly and fully backwards, making an arch with her spine. All the while, she kept one hand up to flip her ghostly ‘pal’ the bird. As she went back, he tilted his head to follow her until her hand finally reached the ground. He would go over there, float above her and tease her, but he knew he was already pushing it with her this go-’round.

Straightening his neck back out, he slapped a hand on his chest. “Oof. Babes. If my heart was still beating, it woulda stopped just now.”

Getting back up was a slower process than bending back, but she made it without having to lay on the ground. She walked back over to the couch, dropping down back into her spot with a bit of a bounce. Grabbing the journal and pen again, she grumbled to him, “Fuck you, we’re doing the next letter.”

He laughed at her words, ready for the fun to continue. Seeing her getting frustrated at the game she proposed seemed to scratch an itch for him. It wasn’t as good as when he scared the daylights out of someone but it was still fulfilling. The added bonus to it all was that he could actually talk with someone. It had been a good long while since he had that chance with someone who wasn’t dead or a 1-dimensional clone.

The game continued on with Karmilla guessing the wrong letter a few more times before she finally got one. When she finally did, she was probably too ecstatic. Not jumping up and down ecstatic, but the quick, in-your-face yell of ‘fuck you’ before moving onto the next letter. By the end of the game, he learned a lot; the black padding she had lining the walls of her apartment was to save her neighbors the trouble of having to listen to her blaring music and her singing along with it; she’s slept with a good few people, gender never really coming into play for her; she’s always been able to see ghosts and knew more about the Netherworld than the average breather should know. There were a few more dares involved, none of them fun for her but all of them entertaining to him.

Eventually, the game came to an end, much to Karmilla’s relief. With all the letters lined up on their spaces, she stared at the pad.

“Beetlejuice?”

He leaned more forward at the sound of his name. “It sounds very nice when you say it. Why not give it to me a few more times?”

She gave him a suspicious look as she closed the journal and tossed it on the coffee table with the pen she was using. “Why?”

The smile on his face tightened. He was probably a little too eager with his words. Standing up and walking through the coffee table, he started to pace slowly in front of her, watching her eyes follow him. “Oh, you know. Curse stuff. Can’t say my name, can’t talk to the living, can’t get summoned and get all my powers back.”

She shifted herself on the couch, tucking herself comfortably into the corner as she watched him. “It’s that easy?”

He stopped his pacing and looked at her with a tight-lined smile. “Is it, though? Usually, someone would think the whole ‘living people can’t see me’ would be a pretty big kink in a plan to return to full power.”

She mocked his expression, inadvertently making him laugh. “Whatever. So, I guess the summoning requires your name? Is there more to it? Sacrificial lamb? Blood of the willing? Sacrificial virgin?”

“You could bring a virgin to me, though there wouldn’t be any blood letting. Unless they were into that, then maybe a little blood letting.” His words earned him a disgusted look from his friend, which just made him smile all the more. “Lucky for you, there’s no ghosty mumbo-jumbo you gotta deal with. Only thing you gotta do is say my name three times in a row--” he held up three fingers to emphasize his words-- “Nothin’ in between.”

She gave a small hum of contemplation as she nodded at him. At least, there’s no murder involved. Unless, that’s something he planned on doing when he’s ‘summoned’. From what she’s seen so far, she’d just assume he’d be more of the practical joke type that might sometimes end with someone getting hurt. Still, she hasn’t known him for more than three or four hours now, so there could still be a lot under the surface she hasn’t seen yet.

“What will you do when you’re back at full power? What exactly happens?” Better to ask up front than try and be clever about it. All she could hope for now is that she could spot any lies he tried to use.

“Would you believe me if I said it was to become a better part of the community and help those in need?” Beetlejuice put on his best attempt at an innocent expression, batting his eyes at her. The visual itself got him a half-smile from her but also a shake of her head. He dropped his little act quickly. “Didn’t think so.”

He sat on air, crossing one leg over the other and put his hands on the top knee, like he was trying to sit pretty. She wasn’t able to describe the voice he was doing as anything other than a peppy lady at an interview. “Well, what I really want to do is have some fun. Ya know, go out on the town, wreak some havoc, scare the daylights outta people, and maybe throw in a few dismemberments to spice it up.”

Her eyebrows arched up as he spoke, putting more thoughts of what exactly she let follow her home. Nothing harmless, that’s for sure. “Yeah, I’m definitely not going to do that.”

He groaned dramatically, rolling his head to emphasize his eye roll. “Uuugh, but why? We could have so much fun together!” He stood up from his air seat and took a few steps towards her. “And you look like a gal who could use it.”

She opened her mouth to object to the last part, but in all honesty he was right. The most she ever did was work, college, home, and dance and sing with Bingo when she’s drunk. “Causing harm to people is not fun.”

“Unless it’s someone who really deserves it.” As he was about to take another step forward, Bingo growled. He did a quick, mock growl back at her before continuing on, staying in place this time. “And you didn’t say ‘no’ to the havoc wreaking and the daylight scaring, so-”

“It’s a no to the whole thing, Beetlejuice,” she said flatly, looking him right in the eye. She noticed that hearing the sound of his name made him perk up, his hair seeming to brighten in color and the air around him feeling more electric. At least, electric enough that she felt a tingle in her limbs and warning bells going off in her head. “Listen, I just met you. I don’t know you. I don’t know why you’d think I’d help you out.”

“Because we’re friends?” He said this like it was the most obvious thing to him. Come to think of it, she had noticed that he had referred to her as a friend every so often between the come-ons and general sexual harassment.

She let out a long sigh, letting her head fall back to rest on the cushions of the couch, trying to think of what she should say. When she finally had it, she brought her head back up. “Don’t wanna break your heart, dude, but I’m pretty sure we’re not friends. There’s no real basis for it, other than I’m the only one that can see you.”

He deflated a bit at her response, but continued trying to keep up his relentless attitude. Of course they were friends. How could she not see that? “We made a connection! This is destiny or fate or whatever the fuck it is. You talked to me!”

“Didn’t have much choice there.”

“You brought me home with you!”

“You would’ve followed me anyway.”

He paused again. “Both valid points. But come on, Karma! You’re not really gonna leave a dead man hanging, are you?”

She didn’t respond, just leveled a deadpan stare at him.

Dammit, lady, you’re killin’ me! He bit the inside of his lip as he tried to think of a way to convince her. He thought he had been very good and friendly thus far, but he may have come on a little strong with her.

“Alright, alright, okay,” he started as he came back to the couch, walking through the table again to sit next to her, facing her as fully as he could. “What if I prove myself to you? So, you can trust that I won’t be going out and killing randos on the street. Unless you want me to, then I totally will. But I’ll behave! As much as I can, anyway.”

She continued just staring at him, but thought over his words. Until she noticed him starting to do his best attempt at pleading puppy dog eyes. She’d hate to admit it, but the longer she stared back at him the more she felt his look getting to her. God, he’s really good at playing up being pitiful. Doesn’t help that he probably genuinely wants a friend. Fuck. Something about her eyes must have softened because she could see a small smile coming back to his face. God dammit, now it’s cute.

Karmilla had to break eye contact with him, losing out in the battle of wills. Curse her empathetic heart. “Fine, I guess.”

As soon as she relented, Beetlejuice jumped from the seat up into the air in a cheer, going higher than normal physics would allow. He landed on the coffee table facing her. “Oh, babes, thank you! You are not gonna regret this one bit!”

God, I hope not, she thought to herself as she pushed herself up from the couch. “Make yourself at home, I guess. I need to walk Bingo, so I’ll be back in a bit.”

He turned as he watched her go back to the counter where she had left her keys, seeing her pocket them and grabbing a leash, the dog following alongside her. “Want me to come along, my new best buddy?”

Karmilla attached the leash to her dog’s collar before pushing her feet into the shoes she had been wearing earlier. “No. I’m not gonna be long. Like I said, just make yourself at home.”

He shrugged even though she wasn’t looking before falling back and laying on air before floating gently down to the couch, hands interlocked behind his head. “Whatever you say, boss lady.” Oh, sweet, sweet freedom here I come.

He looked over and watched as she picked up what she needed, hooking up her dog and walking out the door. The click of the lock bolting into place was very audible even in the sound deadened room. As he continued to stay reclined on the couch, he looked towards the TV. Probably should’ve asked her to turn it on before she left. Live and learn. Well, maybe not live. The point stands that without his friend here, there was nothing in the apartment that would help pass the time more easily.

“Well--” he jumped up from the couch suddenly, taking a few steps towards Karmilla’s room. “Time to complete the invasion of privacy before I gotta dial it back.”