#a ghost could appear in the mirror and hes just annoyed that its blocking his view

[delopsia]

I don't know why, but I like to think that Rhett already knows about the hole in the West pasture and just chooses to ignore it.

[lost-jams]

Hello there

pairing — jimin x female reader

genre — fluff (with a bit of sexual stuffs huhu)

::If I was given the choice to re-live my life, well I dont think I would make any choices that would differ from the previous ones...because all of them led me to you::

I look myself over one more time in the mirror. I used to wear my hair above the shoulders with edgy bangs, but it's grown a lot in the last couple of years. And not without reason. I brush my fingers through the long, dark strands of hair that I've trained to cover most of the left side of my face. I pull the sleeve of my left arm down to my wrist and then pull the collar up to cover most of my neck. The scars are barely visible like this, and I can actually stomach looking at myself in the mirror. I used to think I was pretty. But hair and clothes can only cover up so much now. I hear a toilet flush, so I turn quickly and make my way to  the door before the woman can exit the stall. I do what I can to avoid people most of the time, and not because I'm afraid they'll stare at my scars. I avoid them because they don't stare. 

The second people notice me, they look away just as fast, because they're afraid to appear rude or judgmental. Just once it would be nice if someone looked me in the eyes and held my stare. It's been so long since that's happened. I hate to admit that I miss the attention I used to get, but I do. I exit the bathroom and head back toward the booth, disappointed to still see the back of my father's head. I was hoping he would have had some kind of emergency and been required to leave while I was in the restroom. It's sad that I'd rather be greeted by an empty booth than by my own father. The thought almost makes me frown, but I'm suddenly sidetracked by the guy seated in the booth I'm about to walk past. I don't usually notice people, considering they do everything in their power to avoid eye contact with me. However, this guy's eyes are intense, curious and staring straight at me. My first thought when I see him is, "If only... this were two years ago."

________________________________________________________________________________

Its happening again...they are fighting again sighing i look at my mirror "ugh...i need a hair cut" grabbing my car keys I jogged towards the front door, silence...perhaps they finally noticed me "I'll be back in awhile" i told them while putting on my shoes. " Eat something before heading out, come" i finally looked towards my mother, her eyes they are red...so was my fathers, Are they finally letting themselves go? maybe. "No im not hungry" i opened the door.

Would my present be different if i lisened to my mother? Do i want things to be different?

________________________________________________________________________________

 I want to break out in a sprintin order to get his eyes off me, or if I should walk in slowmotion so I can soak up the attention.His body shifts as I begin to pass him, and his stare becomestoo much all of a sudden. Too invasive. I feel my cheeks flushand my skin tingle, so I look down at my feet and allow myhair to fall in front of my face. I even pull a strand of it intomy mouth in order to block more of his view.

Just a fewmoments ago, I was thinking about how much I miss beingstared at, but now that it's happening, I just want him to lookaway.Right before he's out of my peripheral vision, I cut my eyesin his direction and catch a ghost of a smile. Maybe he didnt see my scars...

It annoys me that I even think this way. I used to notbe this girl. I used to be confident, but i guess the accident broke every ounce of my self-esteem. I've tried getting it back, butit's hard to believe someone could ever find me attractivewhen I can't even look at myself in the mirror.  Ugh.

"As i was saying, I think u should organise a fan meet and stop being an annonymous writer, people want to see u" i tear my eyes from my father to the coffee sitting on my table untouched. "I'm not ready" i heard a sigh. "it has been two years" i shiffted on my sit uncomfortable...my fathers hand reached out to me grabbing the sides of my face, they were so warm. "take as much time u need...im here" nodding m head i smiled but i dont know why i felt so heavy in my heart...it was so heavy. "i think i have an idea for my new poetry" believe me or not but the only good thing after the accident happening to me was me becoming a writer, I didnt know what came in me one day i decided to write a poetry and publish it and it became a best seller.

________________________________________________________________________________

I should've slept last night i cant think straight, was this always the road i took, God i swear sleep-deprived driving is far worse then drunk driving, I feel my eyes closing...I try to keep them open I see a little girl crossing the road and........CRASH............

blood...everywhere whats going on?

HELP I CANT MOVE...SOMEONE HELP

i want to scream but nothing comes out is it the end

i hear footsteps with sirens...am i getting help?

please help me...I want to live

i feel someone pulling me out of the car, i feel his hand on my neck, he was slapping my cheeks....i wanted to open my eyes to make sure the girl was ok, was she ok? is she alive? what happened i dont remember....

beep......beeep...beep....

My eyelids feel so heavy, i wanna sleep if i open my eyes i have to face the consequences im not ready but i dont wanna die away...Looking arround i see my father on the right side of my bed, Why cant i open my left eye, i try to get up...im covered in bandages, funny i cant feel any pain, im glad im alive.

"Dad" whisperring i poke his hand, he jolts up. Did he not sleep for a week? "U look terrible" he looks like he'll cry any moment now. "You should look at yourself first" how bad can it be?

A week passed by there was no sign of my mother, I was told i hit a pole and the girl lived, i remember her face, she was preety cute. My father says my mother left, i didnt expect much from her but a visit wouldnt hurt right? I just hope my wounds heal faster its super itchy...

A month passed by, its just me and my father we are on our way to my physical therapist so that i can walk again and i dont have to use this stupid wheelchair

We were in the waiting room...whispers...they were whispering about me, poor girl she must be on so much pain. The left side looks so bad. Can't these people tell i can hear them, i opened my ponytail heaving a sigh. i feel heavy...

My therapist told me i should write down my feeling, so....

Whenever the clouds of pain and sadness loomed.

Whenever tears came till the eyelashes,

Whenever this lonely heart got scared,I told my heart, Oh Heart, why do you cry?This is what happens in this world

This deep silence the world has distributed it to everyone, Some sadness is a part of everyone's life, Some sunshine is a part of everyone's life, Your eyes are wet without any reason, Every second is a new season Why do you let go of such priceless moments? Oh Heart, why do you cry?

________________________________________________________________________________

"Anyways, we have a meeting with our illustrator this friday be ready" i hum while finishing my coffee. "we should head back" my father said grabbing his things. I hurriedly looked for the guy...just a last glance...he was gone.

Friday came, he is late I took his profile out, Park Jimin....it baffles me that my supposed illustrator gave no picture how will I even recognise him, good thing my father knows this guy, sighing I put my head down...i hate headaches so much...

"Sorry im late" I hear nervous chuckles "you know morning traffics" I look up ITS HIM...THE GUY...ITS HIM... I see the corner of his lips turn upwards, was it me or he was smirking...My father went straight into buisness, everything was so blur, i was just staring at his face, he is beautiful.

He says he has been an illustrator for five years straight, my father seems preety convinced by him, so am i.. If i were to compare the beauty of him and his work, his work wins scoring a homerun for sure. It speaks with such depth that you want to drown in it.

He shook hands with my father, coming right infront of me he offers me his hand...i take it, I feel his thumb brushing against the surface of my skin. Will it be weird to say that i felt excited? I didnt know i was hold my breath till I was inside the car. "I like him" my father utters "Same" I feel my cheeks flushing. I think i might have been single for a while now...

"Are you always like this, flirting with whoever u want?" Jimin snapped his head back to u "I saw u, winking at the waitress" He bit his lower lip...i want to bite it too..his eyes threw a mischivious smile at me, there is something about his eyes, I cant put a finger on it. " Why...you jealous?" i scoffed at that, yes..."why would i be jealous?" chuckling he put his hand on his chest " ouch...i wanted u to be" why would he? "Girls like you are not made for flirting ... they are made for love"

Days passed I was struggling to write, there was something bugging me and the fact that Im alone right now is more depressing, AAAAAA I want to scream, will i have my periods soon? maybe but why am I tearing up there is no reason, God i hate mood swings. 

Alchohol...this thing is a fools gold, you know its bad for u but u cant help but have it...and it also turns u into a fool. Why u ask? because only a fool will ask someone to drop by to their house in the middle of the night. With what reason? because they feel lonely. And here i was contemplating what i should say to the person infront of me. 

"Would u like a drink?" he narrows his eyes at me "you are lonely" fuck...i dont look a him in the eye. i clear my throat " I just wanted to discuss about..uhh" he puts his head on his hands which is supported by the table as he leans in " Wanna go out?" One look from me was enough for him to take a hold of my hand and drag me outside. Was he always taller then me?  I pulled  him back "Its late" i smiled at him. "Do u paint?" 

And here we are infront of his house, because he thought it'll be great to have a painting date in the middle of the night. Was it a date though? It felt like it. I was sitting infront of a canvas processing what was happening. His Art room reminds me a art museum, paintings everywhere, i dont know what an art museum looks like but i think i got a gist of it. "May i paint u?" Shock was written on my face, insecurities filling me in "I-" 

He puts one finger on my lips and he pushes the hair away from my forehead, running hisfingers through it until it's no longer hanging in my face. "Youwear your hair like you do because you don't want people tosee too much of you. You wear long sleeves and collared shirtsbecause you think it helps. But it doesn't." I feel like i might cry.  I feel his fingertips graze my jaw and I flinch. "You havethe most incredible bone structure, and I know that's a weirdcompliment, but it's true." His fingers leave my jaw and trailup my chin until he's touching my mouth. "And your lips.Men stare at them because they want to know what they tastelike, and women stare at them out of jealousy because if theyhad lips the color of yours, they'd never have to buy lipstickagain."

His forehead is resting against mine, and I can feel hisbreath crashing against my lips. Jimin steps forward and wraps his arms around me.Everything about him is comforting and warm and I have noidea how to respond. One of his hands meets the back of myhead and he presses my face against his chest.

few days passed by since that day, I decided to put my hair up in a ponytail. My neck it looks nice, i like how it looks...i love it. I get down for breakfast, i smelled pancakes my father turns arround with a plate delight crosses his face when he saw me. "you look good" I didnt know what was this feeling but it surely feels very light, exciting and comforting . I think I know what to write...

The moment seems to flow like a molten sapphire and there's deep blue silence, Neither there is earth below, nor sky above, The rustling branches, leaves are saying that only you are here, Only me, my breath and my heartbeat,  Such deepness, such loneliness and me...only me, It all makes me believe in my existence.

There was a girl drowning, but she had a smile on her face, the illustration did match my writing. neighther there is earth below, nor the sky above. smart move Mr Park. My poem got selected for the top ten poems of the year. There were incoming calls of congratutions but I was waiting for a certain person. Without wasting another second i called him "Hello?" i sucked in a long breath "you can paint me" 

Fuck....fuck...FUCKKKKK, I am crazy very very very crazy WHO SAYS THAT, YOU CAN PAINT ME WTFFFFFFF. Standing infront of his building i was rethinking my decision, but it was too late UGHHHHHH i rang the door bell. 

His stares, i remember them, so intense I wonder why, is it because of his profession? his eye shape? or is it just him? "I like you" shit...he stands up which makes me stand up  he takestwo quick steps toward me until his hands are in my hair andhis mouth is on mine. He backs me against the wall and his hands and chest andlips are pressed hungrily against mine. He's gripping my facelike he's afraid to let go and I'm fighting for breath becauseit's been so long since I've kissed anyone, I think I may haveforgotten how to do it right. As soon as a whimper  leaves my mouth, he's pressing meharder against the wall. His left hand is caressing my cheekand his right hand is gripping me by the waist, pulling meagainst him.

I feel Jimin's arms wrap around me . He rests hischin on my shoulder. "You having second thoughts?"I shake my head. I'm nervous, but I'm definitely not havingsecond thoughts. Yet."Good " 

"Im leaving for the airport in two hours, i agreed for the fan meet" i pause to look at him, he is smiling, im happy that he is smiling, " do you want me to drive u?" oh no...my dad he is driving me ." Uhh my dad...he-''. Dissapointment runs across is face, and i needed to leave now, I DONT WANNA GOOOO. He looked so precious looking like a sad puppy, did i ever mention anything about his chubby cheeks THEY LOOK SO FLUFFY NOW THAT MAKE ME WANT TO BITE INTO IT. control..y/n...control.

 He stepsback, releasing me. "I should have taken you to the airport andthen as soon as you got to security, I could have dramaticallycalled out your name and run toward you in slow motion." Hemimics the scene in slow motion, moving in place as hereaches an arm out toward me. "Y/NNNNNNNNNNNN," he says in along, drawn-out voice. "Dooon't Leeeave Meeeee!"I'mlaughing hard when he stops acting out the scene and wrapshis arms around my waist again. "I need to go now"

My father grabs our  suitcases and head inside withnot much time to spare before our flight. The airport is stillbuzzing despite it being so late at night. we print my boarding pass,check our luggage, and make our way to security.I try not to think about what I'm doing. How am I going to talk to people I dont know with my amazing social skills. The thought of it makes me want tocall a cab and go straight back to my apartment, but I can't.I have to do this.

"Y/NNNNNNNNNN"

 My eyes flick open.I turn around and Jimin is standing at the revolving door. Hebegins running toward me.In slow motion.I cover my mouth with my hand and try not to laugh as heslowly stretches out an arm like he's reaching out for me. He'syelling, "Doooon't goooo yeeeet!" as he moves slowlythrough the crowd of people.People from all directions stop to see what the commotion isall about. I want to dig myself a hole and hide but I'mlaughing too hard to care about how embarrassing this is.What in the world is he doing?When he finally reaches me after what seems like forever, ahuge grin spreads across his face soon he presses his lips with mine. 

I looked at my father, he's too surprised to even react. The room feels like it's spinning, so I suck in a huge rush ofair and try not to sway. "I forgot to say I like u too" with that he begins to walk backward and I'm aware of everyone in ourvicinity staring at us, but I can't help but not give a shit. Rightbefore he reaches the revolving door, he cups his hands aroundhis mouth and yells "YOU BETTER NOT GHOST ME AFTER U COME BACK" 

I don't think I've ever smiled so big. I lift a hand and wavegoodbye as he disappears. "I like him" I look towards my father. "So do I". Going back to the question that i asked myself Would my present be different if i lisened to my mother? Do i want things to be different? I think i like it this way, Everything happens for a reason, you just need to give it a little time for it to fall on the right track anyways I am loving it for now and im living it aswell...

If you have eagerness in your heart, it means you are alive, If your eyes are filled with dreams, it means you are alive Learn to be free like the wind,  Learn to flow freely like the river, Embrace every moment with open arms, See a new horizon every time with your eyes, If you carry surprise in your eyes, it means you are alive, If you have eagerness in your heart, it means you are alive.

And the story continies....

Heyyy I hope you liked the story, feel free to give your opinion on it, this story was inspired by a novel I read on my early teen days, kinda didnt like the way it ended so I made up my own version of it,

Happy reading.

ps: its kinda my first time [HELP (T_T) ]

[inavagrant-a]

@starsdescent said:

❛ you look like you just saw a ghost. ❜ / mona

Domains that seemingly appear out of nowhere are quite an unsettling thing, but not something Tetsuya's not heard of nor has he not experienced it, and it seemed to be the case with Mona as well since she took up this highly ranked commission that apparently many adventurers were dodging because they felt frightened by it. The outside of the domain looked like any other domain, but it was when they stepped within it where things were just plain out of control. Mirrors... mirrors everywhere the eye could look. Tetsuya had told Mona to stay close, something about this domain unsettled him, and for something to unsettle him in sight alone is quite a rare thing to accomplish. They were simply sent here to investigate and find some sort of answers. As they went deeper into the domain it seemed to have gained a life of its own, somewhere along the path he and Mona got separated, mirrors floating into different locations, closing in open paths and opening up new ones. One moment Mona was there and then she was gone. This place is getting on his last nerve, it was frustrating to him, the sight of his reflection starting to get more and more annoying which doesn't usually happen.

"Mage!" He calls out to her in hopes of getting some sort of response back, but yet nothing comes, all he gets are these stupid reflections of him staring back at him as he stares onward. To say this experience is disorienting would be a huge understatement, there's also something extremely eerie, this feeling that he's being watched. Sure he can swipe that feeling away by saying it's his reflections, the ones staring back at him to blame but no, that isn't it. There's a gaze somewhere in all of these mirrors that does not belong to him. He did ponder on the thought of attacking one, but what if that triggers something worse? And the fact that he and Mona are separated now would just make things worse, so he doesn't allow his frustration and impatience to get the best of him, instead Tetsuya continues forward, hoping to make sense of the situation. It isn't panic that has him this restless, it's the fact that he can't pinpoint who or what is staring back at him. He would think accomplishing such a feat can't be so hard, he's literally surrounded by mirrors, he should be able to catch a glimpse or something telling in a reflection even though his senses would have kicked in. There's a loud bell that rings, echoes throughout this overwhelming space and then the mirrors begin to move again, rearranging themselves in what seems to be a rather random order.

Tetsuya stops and glares at them as they move, watching how they block his path, change different ones, and open up new ones. He tries to see if in any of these little openings of their shifting he can catch a glimpse of Mona, she can't be that hard to miss, she's got a huge hat after all. Unfortunately he does not. Like before, the mirrors eventually stop moving, coming to a complete and total halt and perhaps he should take this as his time to move and figure out how to navigate yet again through this place, but he does not, instead he stares straight ahead at the mirror mere distances away from him. Every single mirror that's facing him is catching his reflection as precisely as it can except... for the one in front of him. It confuses him at first, trying to settle down from the constant shifting of the mirrors that had just happened, but that confusion is slowly turning into a twisted mix of shock and horror. In that mirror there is a reflection, he sees someone's back, a back he can recognize because of the memories he has. His head is bowed forward, the electro signature on the back of his neck naked and in the open. He wears black and red which clashes with the white and blues he dashes. It is him, but not actually him. That's... Scaramouche?

He feels something get caught in his throat when he hears Scaramouche moan and moan, mumble and mumble about something he can't quite hear nor understand. Moans of pain, mumbling as if he's mourning a loss. Tetsuya dare not get close to him, he does not want to get near him. This has got to be the domain, it just has to be the domain playing games! (What the fuck is going on here?) He wonders, instinctively taking a slow step back instead of forward which in turn makes the reflection that does not belong before him shoot his head right up, as if he just sensed his movement. Scaramouche's sharp movement makes Tetsuya freeze in place as if he's some sort of fawn that just heard a twig snap in the middle of the woods. Scaramouche, within the mirror, slowly turns around and faces his current reincarnation. However Scaramouche has no eyes, all but empty sockets, hollow and empty, nothingness staring back at him with a web of cracks that descend down his cheeks. Scaramouche's moans become louder and he reaches out to Tetsuya, his hand slowly fazing through the mirror as if he's just about to burst out.

"... G... Give it... b-back." Scaramouche strains to say. "... Give it back." He repeats again with more certainty.

At this point any logical thought has left Tetsuya's mind, he's all instinct and impulse. Quickly infusing himself with anemo he slashes wind blades towards the reflection who's trying to break free of the mirror, not caring if damaging these things would make the situation worse for him or for Mona. All he knew is that he wanted Scaramouche to go away, he wanted him to go away! Instead the wind blades do not meet their mark or their intended target, some invisible and unknown force reflects them, making them hit and shatter the other mirrors around it instead. Glass falling on to the ground after its shattered. This only manages to piss Tetsuya off who's come to realize that he's paralyzed, he's paralyzed in place, he can't move, and this feeling of helplessness is not one he wants, it isn't one he welcomes. "You're not real!" Tetsuya yells at Scaramouche in a rage before unleashing an onslaught of wind blades with an absence of thought and only wanting them to hit his mark and make him go away. Please, please make him go away!

The same happens over and over again, his wind blades only hitting the other mirrors, shattering them, making the glass fall to the ground, making them fall apart while Scaramouche completely detaches himself from the mirror that seemingly kept him captive, but Tetsuya can't tell, he's just firing off wind blades, he's just attacking in a frenzied panic. Tetsuya doesn't tell when the distance between Scaramouche and him doesn't exist anymore, every single wind blade fazing through his entity, reinforcing to Tetsuya that he isn't real, so he shouldn't panic like this, but he does, he does panic. He feels it, Scaramouche wants to take something from him. However, his theory that he's not real comes into question when his hands wrap around his neck firmly, squeezing tight, not to cut air supply, but to decapitate him. Tetsuya's hands immediately shoot up to pry Scaramouche's hold away but to no avail, he's much stronger than he is. Perhaps it doesn't help that when he looks at Scaramouche he sees no eyes, but a hollow emptiness, the lack of them staring back at him, it is an unsettling sight. Fuck, he can't pry his grip away!

"I," Scaramouche begins to speak again, getting Tetsuya's attention though barely since he can feel his head slowly getting torn off, "I," Scaramouche repeats, like a snake hissing, "I am more real than you are, you made yourself up." Scaramouche declares, intent on removing Tetsuya's head. "Give me back!" Scaramouche demands, a desperate plea that Tetsuya hears loud and clear and if he had eyes he could look back into... Tetsuya knows they'd be pleading as well.

Thereafter Tetsuya loses track of what happens, he can't tell if it was all in his head, if he made it up, or if it was a dream, or how it even happens, but Mona finds him. His own hands tightly around his neck like he was trying to choke himself to death, mirrors shattered all around him except for that mirror in front of him. However instead of there being another him, it's his own reflection, his own sorry state, him choking himself on his own volition. He stares at that mirror like he can't believe what he's seeing, that the reflection in front of him surely has to be false, it has to be made up, that isn't what just... it isn't what just happened. Where... where's Scaramouche? Tetsuya slowly removes his hands from his neck, coming into himself when he hears Mona near, clear and obvious dents upon it because of just how tightly he was holding on. He did this to himself? Is that what really happened?

He hears Mona ask if he's okay, but he doesn't answer her and instead he slowly turns his head around to look at her, what expression he has on beyond his control at this point. Not something he can simply hide or smooth out. Is she even real? Is she here right now? "I..." He moves his mouth to say something in response to her slight concern of his state. It isn't that he forgot what he wanted to say, he just wanted to make sure that he could speak in the first place. His shell shocked state slowly settles down, his brain starting to compute at a pace he can keep up after... whatever that was. He swallows, looking down at his hands in slight disorientation before he's moving again, albeit a bit more slowly in an attempt to find and catch his footing. He doesn't have anything to say to Mona, he doesn't want to say anything to anybody right now. He just wants out of this place, he needs to get out of this place.

[ectoentity]

Warped Mirror

Decided to write something based vaguely on the “Spork AU” idea. Instead of Episode 1 Danny meeting Episode 50+ Danny, though, I was curious about a Danny who never became Phantom meeting one who had. This first part is just establishing Human!Danny’s world.

I’ll post it to AO3 when I have the rest of it finished.

---

Three kids stood before a giant machine in the shape of a door. It should have been humming along and glowing green, with a great hole to another world in the middle. Instead, it was cold and silent. 

“They spent years working on it,” Danny explained, “and then nothing. Mom and Dad have been moping in their room all day.”

Tucker looked around at the portal and the hodgepodge of computer parts attached to it. “It’s probably a loose wire somewhere. I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

“In the meantime, this would make for an awesome picture,” Sam said with a smile. She held up her polaroid camera. 

“Oh no, you’re not getting me anywhere near that,” Tucker immediately walked away from the portal.

“Come on! When they get this thing working we’ll never be allowed near it. Besides, it’s not like it’s going to do anything right now.”

“Then why don’t you get over there and let one of us take the picture?” Tucker asked.

“Because neither of you know anything about lighting or framing a shot. Please?” When she saw that Tucker was not going to budge, she looked over at Danny with wide, pleading eyes. 

He looked anxiously at the portal. So far none of his parents’ inventions had really worked, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t dangerous. Still, Sam was right. It was pretty cool, and getting a picture with the thing could be a good way to keep a memory.

“Yeah, okay, let me put on a jumpsuit in case there’s a live wire or something.”

Ten minutes later he was suited up in the white-and-black safety jumpsuit his parents had made for him. It wasn’t really a hazardous materials outfit - there was no full hood or respirator, or even goggles. It was made of something that was supposed to repel ectoplasm and certain chemicals that his parents used and was insulated against minor shocks, so it would have to do. 

“Oh, no no. I’m not taking your picture while you’re wearing that,” Sam announced. Danny was about to argue, but she reached over and pulled the sticker of his dad’s face off of the suit. “Now you’re good.”

Danny laughed. “Good thinking, Sam. Wouldn’t want to be immortalized in your photos with that on me.” He walked up to the portal. It was a massive piece of machinery, nearly six feet in diameter and deep enough to fit a car. He paused at the entrance. It was hard to imagine it as anything other than a creepy machine in the basement. If it had worked, it would have opened into a whole other world. 

Tucker, meanwhile, was watching while anxiously tapping a foot. He had expected Danny to give in to Sam’s pleas. He was so predictable and utterly clueless. One of these days they would both realize that they were both desperately crushing on each other and they’d-

There was something plugged into the wall. Tucker wasn’t sure what it was, but he had a bad feeling about it. 

“Hold up!” he shouted. Tucker went over and unplugged the cord from the wall outlet, and checked around for more outlets just in case. When he didn’t find anything else, he called back, “Okay, I think it’s alright now.”

“Good thinking, Tuck,” Danny’s voice echoed in the portal. “Hey, Sam, is this good?”

Sam set up her shot. “Looks great! Just hold there a second.” She counted down before the flash went off. The camera whirred and produced a polaroid. “Lemme take a couple more,” she said before swiftly doing so from slightly different angles. “That should be good!”

Danny started to walk out of the portal. Something caught his foot. He tripped and fell backwards, flailing his arms wildly in hopes that he would catch something. His right hand hit the side of the portal. It stabilized him for a second, but then the wall clicked. Danny stared down at his hand, a chill lancing up his spine. He hadn’t hit the wall. His hand was resting on a button marked “ON.”

“Oh my god,” he blurted.

“Danny? Are you okay?” Sam called. He could hear them both scrambling toward the portal. 

“I’m good! I just tripped!” Danny got out of the portal as fast as he could. “My parents put the on/off buttons on the inside! If Tucker hadn’t unplugged it…” All three teens stared at the portal. Danny could have died, just for tripping over a stupid wire.

Finally Tucker gulped and broke the silence. “Want to see if your parents can get it to work now?”

Danny shook himself out of it. “Yeah! I’ll go ask if they forgot about that.”

They all but ran out of the lab.

---

The Fenton RV sped down the street, ghost alarms blaring. In the back, Danny got his weapons together as quickly as he could with all the jostling and swerving. They’d let Dad drive; time was of the essence.

“A level six!” Jack crowed from the driver’s seat. “Maybe even a seven! How long’s it been since we saw one like that?”

“About four months,” Danny grumbled. He still vividly remembered when the town had been drawn into the Ghost Zone and besieged with an army of skeleton constructs. He was not looking forward to a repeat of that hell. The Fenton Blaster in his hands whined as he attached the power source. 

“We’ll have to be careful, Jack,” Mom cautioned as she always did. “We don’t have the Ecto-Skeleton this time.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t call in the Guys in White?” Danny asked. They might not be the best ghost hunters, but they did have a lot more firepower.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Danny! I’m sure we can take care of this before they even notice something’s happening. Besides, your mom and I are still dealing with the paperwork from the last time they showed up.”

Danny shuddered. He was extremely glad that he didn’t have to deal with that aspect of ghost hunting. 

His dad pulled up to the mall with a loud honk of the horn and squealing tires. Danny and his mom ran out, blasters held at the ready. Dad backed them up with one of the Fenton Bazookas. 

The mall was already evacuated. Some people milled around outside, anxiously talking amongst themselves. In the year and a half since the ghosts had started attacking the town, people had gotten frustratingly complacent about them. The invasion a few months back had shown most people just how dangerous they could be, but a stubborn few always were more concerned with getting good pictures than their own safety. 

“Make way!” Mom shouted. “We’re here to take care of the ghost!” The crowd at least did part for them. A few people shouted at them. Some of it was words of support. A few tried to describe what they had seen - it was green, it was wearing all white, it was terrifying. Only a few made jokes or jeered at the Fentons as they passed. That was annoying, but it was a hell of a lot better than it had been a year ago. 

The deserted mall was an eerie sight. Everyone had left in a hurry, leaving lights on and store music still echoing through empty halls. The Fentons’ footsteps seemed far too loud. The weirdest part was that everything seemed intact. When the technology ghost raided the mall he usually left trails of rubble and discarded packaging everywhere. The box ghost would leave piles of everything that he dumped out of his beloved boxes. Various other ghosts had attacked the mall in the past, and they almost always left signs of their passing. Why was this one different?

“Come out, ghost!” Dad shouted, his voice easily carrying through the empty mall. “Let’s make this quick!”

“Curious.” The voice was quiet, but had the same unnatural echo of all ghosts. Danny held up his blaster, but he couldn’t tell where the voice had come from. Beside him, his mom turned on her miniature Fenton Finder. It beeped alarmingly quickly. 

“Two o’clock!” Mom shouted as she fired. Danny was only a moment slower, trying to fire a little ahead. The blasts didn’t connect with anything. 

“I mean no harm,” the ghost said. Its voice was way too close for comfort. Danny turned to his right and shot where he thought it was, but he still missed. 

“What do you want?” Danny asked. He didn’t really care. No matter what their obsessions were, ghosts only ever wanted to spread chaos and pain. Still, sometimes he could distract them by talking back. 

The ghost appeared in front of them. It was tall, with dark, green-tinged skin and a lighter beard. Its eyes glowed a soft yellow. A white robe and hood covered most of its body, rippling in a nonexistent breeze. 

A green beam from the Fenton Bazooka blasted towards the ghost. Its torso split apart to allow the beam to go through it. Danny grimaced. It was so gross when they did that. He followed his dad’s lead and started shooting the ghost. The ghost blocked all of his and Mom’s shots with a series of small green shields. 

“This is entirely unnecessary,” the ghost huffed. It had the audacity to look bored. 

“Then why not just go back to the Ghost Zone and leave us alone?” Danny shouted, annoyed. He ran off to the side, flanking the ghost. It finally started dodging the ectoblasts. If anything, though, the ghost just looked amused. 

“Oh, I shall. First, though…” The ghost flung its hand out towards Danny. He winced, anticipating the burn of ectoblasts. He took a step back and his foot sank. With a shout, he fell into the glowing green portal that had opened right behind him.

[elfwoodfae]

Writing’s On the Wall Harrison Eo Wells x reader.

Chapter 2- Specter.

Author’s note: I am so happy and excited for this new series. I hope sincerely that you all like it and let me know your thoughts, this new series will touch on darker themes up ahead in the future. Also tumblr is being annoying with the paragraphs that’s why they are so far apart.

I made this moodboard. I looked up and searched the photos and edited them. I don’t mind if you use it.

Part 1 (here)

A strange calmness falls over him; he turns around, opening his eyes for the first time in hours. He feels exhausted, having spend the majority of the night observing you. He chastises himself, he shouldn’t have done that, there was no other option, he reminds himself, he is desperate and frustrated. The sudden reminder of your presence this early in the morning angers him, a growl escaping his mouth as he sits up, the white linens of the bed pooling around his hips as he rubs his face with one hand, turning his head and doing a double take at the door, making sure is locked, he knows he locked it last night but the paranoia your presence has brought him makes him second guess himself.

His feet touch the floor first, he stretches his arms over his head, moaning at the relief it offers, his white shirt riding up enough to expose a gleam of milky skin; his hair is a mess of black curls, the expression looking back at him thorough the mirror is annoyed, tired, he splashes water on his face, he needs to wake up. The shadow of a beard is starting to appear on his chin, along his jaw and cheeks, he closes his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck and sighting before gripping the sink in a moment of fury where he wishes he could rip it out of the wall and throw it, shattering it into pieces.

How hard could it be to get rid of you? It wouldn’t be hard at all, it would be done before you could even draw your next breath, it would bring him more pleasure than beating Allen, but the consequences would be devastating, his rational side reminded him, there was not possible way to free himself from the torture of your existence without dooming his. Had Joe not met you things would have been different but he could see as clear as day the picture waiting back for him at the lab. Barry most likely knows about you by now, he knows there will be questions once he gets there, they will be innocent in nature but they will only serve to cement your presence into his mind.

He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring every detail of his clothes before he turns around, spotting his chair exactly where he had left it last night; he walks to it, looking at it so intently as if his gaze alone could burn it, hating the thing he punishes himself with. It’s for a greater good, he remembers. Wheeling into the main area of the house he notices all the lights are still off, he takes solace onto the fact that you are still sleeping, freeing him from your presence even if he knows it will only be for a few hours. He decides to leave, not wanting to take the chance of you deciding to appear and tag along, he doesn’t think of himself capable enough to not pull a Brutus a gut you in the middle of the day. This are also the only quiet moments he will get to think, to work on his suit, he sighs, there is so little time for him to use even when he is always alone.

The room is unfamiliar to your eyes, the bed linens are soft, warm, they smell of fresh cotton and clean clothes, it takes a moment for your memories to return, reminding you where you are. The room is dark, the curtains successfully blocking any sunlight from peaking in, there is no telling the time as you look around trying to get at least a sense of how rested you are. The clock reads sometime after 8, Harrison has more likely left by now and a slight disappointment settles over you, you wanted to see the labs, maybe he will want to take you tomorrow. The bathroom is spacious, glass doors decorating the shower as a black marble vanity rest on the wall, its too big for one person, it feels too luxurious for a guest room. Your mind reminds you of a forgotten fact, Harrison was never a showoff kind of person, he liked his house to feel welcoming and cozy, completely opposite to this place.

Walking out of the room is impossible not to notice the eerie silence that accompanies you, all the lights are off but the sun seems to illuminate the whole place through the skylight. A feeling of anxiety settles in your stomach as your eyes scan the expanse of the room, a corridor shielding doors you haven’t explored yet calls to you, maybe it would be best to wait for him to come back and show you around. You look around once again, scanning the walls and every available surface, your brows furrowing once a detail settles into you that you hadn’t taken into account the previous day; there is not even a single photo of Tess or himself anywhere. Maybe he has them in his room, or perhaps in his office, you think, the anxiety of walking into his space long forgotten, replaced with curiosity.

With fast steps you make it to the first door, its unlocked. The wood doesn’t creak when you open it and you wish it had, any sound would be better than this silence. Peaking your head inside, rows of shelfs of books welcome you, a dark desk sits in the middle, random papers and pieces discarded around it, nothing you would be able to recognize. A leather chair sits behind it and for a moment you wonder what could he need it for? Scanning the surface for any photos, any memories of Tess you could find but is empty, not even a photo of her in any of the walls.

Moving along you walk to the last room, the one on the end of the hall; opening the door, the room is dark, no light peaking into it, the bedsheets are a dark grey, almost black, nothing is out of order, a smell that could only be described as a freshly shaved man and clean clothes hits you, its pleasant, fresh. There is once again no photos to be seen, you should turn around, walk back and continue with your day but curiosity gets the best of you; the walking closet is big, rows of clothes hanging, color coordinated and perfectly ironed. A mirror from floor to ceiling adorning the wall in front of you. Walking closer to his clothes you grab the sleeve of one of his expensive white shirts, wanting to feel the softness of it, you don’t recall ever seeing him wearing one. Out of impulse you bring it to your nose, clothing your eyes as the smell of his cologne hits you, causing a blush to rise up your cheeks; he probable sprays it on himself here, impregnating everything around him.

Abandoning his room you walk into the kitchen, there is so many things about him you wish you knew, things that have probably changed and things that you don’t remember. He seems so distant, so cold, so unavailable to you, it made you wonder why he had allowed you to stay with him, perhaps it was not you, it was your attachment, the last piece of her memory he had, you were like an heirloom, one he refused to throw away, and that realization made you sad.

He didn’t seem happy, he seemed lonely, used to being by himself, making you question if he had any friends, if there was anyone caring for him. The man you remembered was always accompanied, always surrounded by people, always kind, always loving; where had that man disappear? You wondered, remembering how he hadn’t even known who you were once he picked up the phone that night, but what could you expected? You had never reached out, staying like a ghost, gone and hidden from his life.

Sighting you shake your head, forcing these thoughts to abandon you, having had enough of their torment for a day, there are things after all to be do today. Her face attacks your memory, you remember her from the times Tess and Harrison had brought her over, Christina is her name, she was close to Harrison and she had been very close to Tess, urging the obligation of a visit in you the moment you had decided to visit Central City, certain guilt at staying so out of touch to both of them fills you.

Perhaps you should have called her office before hand, you think, she is a busy woman after all, but after a few name drops from her past her assistant informs you that she will see you shortly. The door opens to the conference room she asked you to wait at, her face haven’t changed, a few wrinkles here and there, but the same determine eyes started back at you.

“Y/n” she says your name, surprise lace in her voice, she seems excited to see you. She hugs you, before commenting how much you have changed since she last saw you approximately fifteen years ago.

“I am so glad you could see me, I’m so sorry I never reached out, is just after the death of Tess so many things changed.” You begin, feeling the sting of tears coming to her at the emotion of relieving those memories, at being so close to someone that knew her.

“I’m surprise Harrison didn’t mention that I was visiting, I assumed you both were close friends.” You say nonchalantly, catching in the way her face contract, she seems uncomfortable at the mention of his name.

“Well yes we were.” She says, taking in a breath before continuing.

“You see, after the accident Harrison and I fell out of touch.” She says, seemingly leaving it at that, but curiosity is a powerful feeling, pulling its strings inside of you, forcing you to ask.

“Oh, but don’t you both keep any contact at all?” The question seems innocent, you genuinely want to know. She understands that, concern for you raising in her as she decides to open up more to you.

“I’ll be honest with you y/n, after the accident Harrison changed so much, that loving, caring man disappeared, he became cold, calculating, manipulative. I understand how grieve can change a person, but he, is like he is not even the same person anymore.” She tells you and you get the feeling she is not speaking in a metaphorical way.

You decide to confide her in your worries of him, in your confusion when he didn’t know who you were, when he didn’t even recognize your name. You can see the concern raising in her eyes, at you being alone with a man neither of you know any longer, but you assure her is fine, you will be fine, how bad could he be? He wouldn’t hurt you, this was Harrison you both are talking about, even if neither of you believe it completely.

@twilightlover2007

@austarus

@harrisonwellsisdaddy

@wintersire

@reallystressedhoneybee

@fanfiction-and-fantasies

@saltykidcreation

@dumpeetintofyre

@yetanotherwells

[bratkook]

queen of broken hearts. jjk (m) part two.

Block my posts and my stories, I’m sorry I can be annoying, I go ghost without warning.

part one. part three.

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: smut, heavy angst word count: 6k warnings: jungkook is still in lurv and oc is still a toxic bitch, mentions of infidelity, oral (m receiving), explicit photos being taken after said blowjob, jungkook cries a little but reverse uno cards oc ha author’s note: this was definitely not supposed to get a second part but for some reason i just couldn’t stop writing it so here it is. i might make a few more drabbles bc i like writing this toxic ass relationship but who knows lmk what u think byeeee

A frown is etched onto Jungkook’s face as he eyes his phone, his thumb constantly dragging the screen down until the loading circle appears and shows him the same screen thats been haunting him all day. 

No posts yet. 

That same line has him morbidly smiling to himself, how could you have no posts yet when he had just liked a selfie of your last night? 

Your profile picture in the top left corner mocks him, a mirror photo you took in a room he was all too familiar with. A room he hadn’t been inside of in over two weeks, which was a long time considering you usually called him over every other day. 

And now he was apparently blocked.

Jungkook racks his brain for anything he could’ve done, any words he might have let slip out in the throes of passion the last time he had seen you, but he comes up blank. He had done a good job so far keeping his emotions locked up and tucked away, never letting anything more slip out since he first met you years ago. 

Sure when he’s in the moment he absolutely wants to spill his heart out, serve it on a silver platter for you and hope its to your liking, but once the heat of it’s all gone and his mind settles he realizes that he missed his chance. His window of opportunity was long gone, the relationship you had now was too twisted, tangled up like roots of a tree that were running rampant, jutting up between the cracks of Jungkook’s sanity. 

Back when you first met, being the older sister of the boy he was tutoring, he had no idea that this was what would become of it. You took a liking to him instantly like a lioness latching onto her prey, something new and exciting for you to play with before you took a bite out of him. 

He was attractive that much was obvious, his hair was shorter then, giving him a slightly boyish charm that didn’t match his physique of broad shoulders and slim waist, his thick thighs stretching out his jeans in such a delicious way that made your mouth water. 

He noticed instantly when you’d linger around the kitchen while he was busy teaching your brother about the pythagorean theorem, mocking him in your low cut tops and tiny lounging shorts, offering him a popsicle as you suckled on one right in front of him. A giant flashing sign hanging over your head that showed him your intentions, showed him just what you were after when it came to him, and he walked right into it. 

Jungkook wasn’t inexperienced, having far too many notches on his bed post to explain why he was so god damn intimidated by you, so enamored by a girl who was clearly as cold as the ice pop you were making a show of sucking. 

You were filthy and shameless, turning the charm off the second your parents walked in or your brother turned around when he noticed Jungkook was distracted. The second anyone else became aware you’d tug your shirt up and your shorts down, giving your father a smile so sweet it would rot Jungkook’s teeth if he didn’t know the act behind it all. 

Jungkook still doesn’t know if he’s thankful for the chain of events that lead to you two sleeping together for the first time, he doesn’t know if he’d take it all back to save himself the torment his heart was currently going through. 

Would he have changed his course of action? Chosen to leave immediately after tutoring your brother instead of running up to the bathroom before leaving? 

You weren’t even on his mind then, you had been taunting him earlier but after fifteen minutes you retreated into your room, leaving him to focus entirely on being the tutor your parents were paying him good money to be. 

So when he pushes the bathroom door open and sees you standing absolutely naked with your wet hair dripping down your body and not an ounce of embarrassment written on your face, he doesn’t even realize he’s shut the door behind him until he hears the soft click of the lock. 

You had been loosely planning this all day,  hoping he’d end up in your room, but when you heard him trekking up the stairs and towards the bathroom you yanked off your towel and unlocked the door in record time, a tiny oops leaving your mouth when you see his wide eyes. 

Jungkook groans into his palms now as he recalls it, how he had taken you on top of your bathroom counter, knocking over the toothbrush holder and soap onto the floor in a loud clatter, the way you had refused to kiss him during it even then, choosing to suck hickeys onto his neck to muffle your cries of pleasure as he stretched you open. 

He still remembers the guilt he felt when he exited the bathroom and said goodbye to your brother as if he hadn’t just fucked you raw inside your bathroom when you two had barely spoken a word to each other. 

Jungkook should’ve spoken up then, right at the beginning of this all, but instead he let his dick control everything, allowing this to continue. 

You had no complaints, getting dicked down by a man as beautiful as Jungkook with no strings attached was god sent, choosing to keep him around even as he stopped tutoring your brother, even after you moved out of your parents’ house and into a place of your own. 

Jungkook felt the first spark of hope in his chest at you keeping him around, the possibility that maybe this was more than just sex, more than a quick fix. But then he started noticing the texts to your phone that you’d get while he was balls deep inside of you, different boys with different hearts lined up at the end of it. Thats when he began trying to convince himself that he was just confused about his feelings, that all of this was just lust. 

He was wrong. Obviously. 

If all he felt was lust he wouldn’t be so upset over being blocked from your instagram. It wasn’t even as if you two interacted on the app, never dming each other, you’d occasionally like the thirst trap gym photos he’d post just to get your attention whereas he’d like every single post of yours. 

His finger hovers over your contact name now, opening up your thread of messages and seeing the last one being from him two weeks ago. A simple “i’m outside” text after you had invited him over. 

His digits swirl on top of the screen, desperate to shoot you a text, wanting to come across as casual in asking why you blocked him but how could he ask that without exposing that he frequently checked your page.

“No.” He grumbles under his breath, carding his fingers through his long hair and choosing to text his friends instead. An invitation to meet at a diner near by for some greasy food and good conversation, something Jungkook desperately needed right now. 

Taehyung and Jimin don’t know about you, none of his friends do so when they push through the entrance of Mel’s and he spots the reason for his distraught emotions he can’t even explain to his friends why they need to sit at the furthest booth from you. 

You don’t spot him, you were too busy staring at the boy in front of you with heart eyes he wishes could be aimed at him. A straw is between your teeth as you slurp on your milkshake, covering your mouth to laugh loudly at something the purple haired boy said. 

It only irritates him further, his fingers gripping the edges of the menu so hard they pale in color. He knew this was the boy that had text you last time, the purple hearts matching the color of his hair perfectly. Was this why you had blocked him?

“You alright?” Taehyung speaks up, noticing the turmoil brewing on his friend’s face, the way his brows were pinched together, the indent on his forehead deepening every time your laugh filled the diner. 

“Yeah.” Jungkook breathes, hoping the simple lie sounds more believable out in the open than in his head.  He sets the menu down with care, trying to shake the feeling inside of him before it spread throughout him, morphing into something ugly and green. You didn’t owe him anything, he tells himself, you could do whatever you wanted. 

Jimin eyes him carefully, catches on to the way he continues to glance at the corner of the room every now and then. His curiosity gets the best of him so he turns to look over his shoulder and spots you, and you must sense the attention because your eyes move from the purple haired boy over to Jungkook’s booth. Jimin instantly turns around at being caught but its too late, he had been spotted and in turn so had Jungkook. 

You continue to slurp on your shake, allowing Namjoon to feed you some fries from his plate while you stare at Jungkook, calling him mentally and hoping he’d look over so you could give him a smile and wave as if you hadn’t ghosted him with no warning. 

He can feel your piercing gaze, how you refuse to look away until he stares back but he wont give you that, he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of seeing the way his face crumbles at you being with another guy after throwing him to the curb. Instead he chooses to continue staring at his straw wrapper like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

His friends can sense his discomfort, not commenting on it and allowing him to guide the conversation until he’s relaxing in his booth, stuffing his face with food until the Jungkook they know reveals himself once more, all smiles and laughs instead of the moping version of himself he was earlier. 

That same Jungkook lingers for a while after leaving the diner, a new set of determination in his mind to move on. You had gone ahead and blocked him, did the first part for him and if that wasn’t a sign for him to pack up his feelings and take a hike then he doesn’t know what was. 

He finds himself glad he hadn’t asked you for coffee two weeks ago, his nerves getting the best of him being the saving grace for what would’ve been further embarrassment. If you had said yes out of pity only to block him before even going out he probably would’ve dug himself a grave and face planted right into it. 

For the first time in a very long time he finds himself not thinking of you, resuming his earlier activities of dating the girls who pursued him. He hadn’t realized how much of you consumed him until he was with someone else, kissing a girl who was kissing him because she wanted to, not because she was trying to muffle a confession she knew was coming. 

By the fourth week Jungkook is proud of himself, applauding his strength for not succumbing to you, caving and texting you for an explanation. He wasn’t weak. 

He wasn’t. 

Until his phone dings with a notification. 

His hand freezes on its way to his mouth, cheeto dust coating his finger from snacking while he binge watched random shows on Netflix. Jungkook doesn’t know whats waiting for him as he licks his fingers before grabbing his phone, the cheeto dust going down the wrong pipe as he saw your name flashing on his phone in the form of an instagram notification. 

He pounds on his chest with his fist, uncapping his water and gulping it down to get rid of the scratchy feeling now lingering in his throat. 

You had just followed him. 

You followed him again after blocking him weeks ago. 

Jungkook just stares at the screen until it fades to black, his own reflection looking back at him until he lights it up once more to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. His finger swipes the screen to unlock it, checking the notification and seeing that you had in fact unblocked him and refollowed him, your grid of photos filling up the screen in a way they weren’t before. 

He was at a loss of what to do, just staring at your profile, the blue follow button taunting him, begging to be pressed, pleading for him to once again get sucked under your spell. 

You must be watching your notifications, waiting to see any new activity on your page because the second Jungkook follows you back you’re shooting him a text faster than he can blink, not being able to take back what he did before his phone is buzzing with a message. 

Jungkook is faced with a realization at this, he was in fact very weak. 

His brain works on its own accord, opening up your thread of messages and seeing the new one sitting nice and pretty in the bottom left corner. 

y/n 10:48pm : hey kookie, you busy?

He eyes the message for a few minutes, not knowing what to respond with. Was he busy? Technically if you considered a netflix binge to be important. But that stupid voice in the back of his head, the one that sent him to your beck and call speaks up, loud and clear, yelling at him to text back and say he always had time for you. 

jungkook 10:53pm : oh hey, no whats up!

jungkook 10:53pm : *?

The three dots of you typing pop up instantly only giving him seconds to prepare before your message swoops in. 

y/n 10:53pm : wanna come over? i’ll make it worth your while

Suggestive emojis finish off the message and he wants to slap himself when his dick stirs to life at the thought of what you’d do to make it worth it after the hell you’ve put him through recently. 

It’s just lust. That’s all this is, thats the only reason he send you a text saying he was on his way so fast theres a typo in it, getting to your apartment faster than he ever has. 

When you swing the door open you shock him when you wrap your arms around him and pull him in for a kiss, its messy, mostly tongue and teeth as you tug at the hair along the nape of his neck in desperation. 

It takes Jungkook a minute to react to it, you were kissing him, something you’d never allowed him to do during sex. He wonders what this meant, a small bite to his lip being what snaps him out of it and forces him into action. 

His large hands wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him before he hauls you up, getting you to hook your legs on his hips as he blindly guides you towards your bedroom, a route he knows very well. 

“You got here fast.” You breathe out as you pull away, laughing when he chases after your lips, getting a taste of the way they feel during the heat of the moment he wanted more of it, wanted to swallow down your moans in ways he’s never been able to before. 

“You told me you’d make it worth my while.” He plays it off, latches his lips onto your neck as he throws your bedroom door open, walking the both of you towards your bed and letting you flop down onto it. 

“Did you miss me.” You tease, an evil glint in your eye as you kneel on the bed, your hands resting on his shoulders while you stare at him like the innocent angel you aren’t. 

“You blocked me.” He huffs, allowing you to slide his shirt off even though he was still upset about that, tossing it behind you without a care. You move onto your own shirt, an oversized grey shirt that belongs to Namjoon but you’d never tell Jungkook that, either way his attention lands on your exposed tits, the shirt and who it belongs to not even crossing his mind now that he had an eyeful of your pert chest. 

“No I didn’t.” You lie so effortlessly, having the motions down to a science. The tilt of your head, the squinting of your eyes that painted an image of you not knowing what he was talking about. The slight lift in your tone in what he mistakes as genuine confusion is what starts the swirls of doubt in his brain. You knew though, you knew very well that you had indeed blocked him. 

“Yeah you did.” He pushes, trying to lean in to kiss you again but you seemed to be over that, the initial neediness you felt leaving you and he feels the sting he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jungkook pushes it away and chooses to let his mouth kiss your jaw and begin sucking on your neck once more. 

“Hm, no I didn’t Kookie.” Your voice sounds so sure, so confident that it has him second guessing himself. Had you really blocked him or had he just gotten it mixed up? 

His lips pause on your skin from his inner debate and you know you need to move this along before he questions you further, pulls out a screenshot of him clearly being blocked with no chance of deniability. 

“Let me make this worth your while like I said, that sound good?” You ask, smiling when he nods against your skin, the topic of whether or not you blocked him leaving his mind, destined to come back again once he’s at home laying in bed and having a crisis. 

Jungkook’s mind short circuits when you reach for his pants, your hands palming the growing bulge contained in them, begging to be taken care of because it’s been so long. 

“Yeah, yeah okay.” He stutters out, letting himself get moved around until he was sat on the edge of your bed while you hopped off. Jungkook takes it upon himself to yank his jeans off, his hunger for you taking over, wanting to move this forward until you were sinking down on his cock, the pleasure clouding his common sense. He needed that because he was having an inner debate on if this was a good idea or not. 

You fall to your knees it front of him after shimmying out of your shorts, a surprising turn of events that he doesn’t see coming judging by the look on his face. That same teasing laugh is sent his way as you tug at his black briefs, his hips lifting off the bed to slip them off, his cock springing free and he sighs at no longer being confined. 

You lick your lips over as you stare at his cock, the thickness of it making your mouth water as you trace the pretty veins wrapped around it with your eyes, leading up to his red tip, leaking beads of precum. 

Jungkook groans when you wrap your hand around his length, the second you texted him he was half hard, aching and needy for release of any kind. He swears he could cum then and there when you noisily spit into your other palm, gliding it up his length to spread the wetness around and starting a slow rhythm. 

“Feel good?” You ask innocently, faux sweetness he knows far too well dripping from your tongue, thick like syrup and he finds himself wanting to lap it up. 

Jungkook knows you’re getting a kick out of it, watching the way you’re biting on your lip and smiling when his face screws up at being touched, the slow pumping of your hands only teasing him and pushing his head further under the stream of pleasure  

“Shit, yeah.” He mumbles out, his stomach hiccuping when you lean forward and let a glob of spit land on the head of his cock, the way it drips down his length and pools at your hands as you continue your motion only serves to send Jungkook deeper into a frenzy. 

It’s not until you finally take him into your mouth, slow and gentle as if you didn’t like to deep throat his cock until you’re choking, that Jungkook lets a moan finally slip through the gates of his teeth. It urges you on, the first rock being thrown at his glass exterior, a tiny sliver of a crack exposing itself and giving you a way in again. 

Jungkook forgets how to breathe for a minute, his mouth slack jawed as he watches in awe at the way you sink your mouth further onto his length. Your pretty lips pulled tightly around his girth, your cheeks hollowing up as you suck your way back up with a noisy slurp. 

“So good.” He groans out, his hand creeping its way around you until he had a fistful of your hair in his grip. Jungkook smiles now when you go lax in his hands, your mouth widening up when he starts to push your head down, his cock nudging along your throat and making you gag, muscles spasming around him but he doesn’t relent until your nose is nuzzled along the small patch of hair around the base of his cock. 

He sighs out, feeling as if the balance of everything had been restored now that you were kneeling pliant between his legs, mouth stuffed with cock, not being able to fuck with his mind with your sweet sounding lies and convincing eyes. 

When he finally pulls you off of him you gasp in a breath, wet and stuck to your throat, your eyes watering up from being choked but the arousal dripping down your thighs showed how much you loved it. Jungkook pouts at you, a clear sense of mockery in it and it makes you want to laugh at how the tables turned. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb smearing the drool around your mouth and making a bigger mess of it all. 

“What, thats it?” He taunts, his eyebrow raising up as you roll your lips together, “You choke on my dick and forget how to make this worth my while?”

His words make you squeeze your thighs together, seeking any sort of friction to ease the pressure building in your core. You loved when Jungkook got like this, flipped a switch in the middle of it and bossed you around, it was the main reason you enjoyed pushing his buttons, wanting to get him to the point where he’d do it back to you. 

“No.” You rasp out, your head lolling to the side as your tongue glides along your lips, visions of tied up cherry stems and sharp words trailing behind it. 

“Show me then.” He orders, thighs spreading further apart as his hand gestures for you to get to it, for you to show him exactly why you called him over. 

As you sink back onto his cock, he wonders if the reason you invited him today was because one of your boy toys had flaked on you, left you high and dry and you needed a fix like you always did. Another part of him wonders if you finally messaged him to keep him close, to not let him stray too far away from you, leave him open and available for you whenever you decided he was needed. 

Jungkook seemed to be getting the good end of this deal right now, whatever it may be so he rides it through, letting grunts of pleasure slip through the seam of his lips when you find the right pace. Your hands word in tandem with your mouth, twisting and pumping in unison. 

He begins rocking his hips up towards your face, a crooked smile on his face at the mess you’re making on his cock, he likes it too much. The wet thump of your fist pumping down, the way you slurp on his length like it was that damn popsicle you used to taunt him with. 

“So fucking dirty.” Jungkook’s voice is husky now, drawn out while he lets himself get lost in it all, heavy with the lust clouding his brain. His words just encourage you, working past the aching feeling in your jaw as you try your best, needing a distraction from the night you’ve had and thats what Jungkook was best for. 

The simmering warmth he feels growing in his gut starts to boil over when you grasp one of his balls, your fingers fondling them in a teasing motion before you switch off and latch your mouth around them instead. 

Jungkook can only curse under his breath, his fingers weaving through your hair once more and tugging at the strands, feeling you moan against his skin at the sting on pain at your scalp. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum–“ Jungkook warns, trying to pull you away from him but you stay put, your hands continuing the motions your mouth was no longer doing, “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” He wonders, if he came now you’d have to wait a while before he was ready to go again and he knew you weren’t the most patient person. 

“No, wanna make you feel good.” Is all you mumble out before slipping his length back into your mouth. The warmth that envelops his cock has him groaning out once more, his mouth dropped open as his chest heaved at the oncoming orgasm.  

“Ah,” he whines when you sink all the way down until your nose nuzzles against his skin, “where do you want me to cum?”

It’s breathless and needy, making you pop off of him with a sultry smile, “My face.”

Jungkook nods, half delirious as he stands up on his weakening legs and fists his cock, the spit lathered on it helping him glide as fast as he needed to. The way you’re sat in front of him, your palms pressed to your thighs, mouth wide open with your tongue sticking out and your eyes locked onto him, sends his mind reeling. 

The angry tip of his cock peaks out with every pump of his fist, only needing a few more flicks of his wrist before his stomach was caving in and flexing as he came. 

Jungkook lets out strangled moan, thick ropes of cum streaming out and landing in globs on your face in short spurts. Your eyes fluttering shut when you feel it land on your cheek, your nose, and dripping down onto your awaiting tongue. 

He’s panting above you as he comes down, his hand raking through his own hair as he tries to calm his breathing down, the tingling feeling spread throughout his body dulling down. When your eyes blink up at him, he can just tell you’re up to something when you stick your tongue back in your mouth and swallow, an evil smirk spreading across your cum streaked face. 

“Here let me grab you a towel.” He starts to move towards your bathroom but your palm reaches out to grab his thigh, stopping him in his tracks. 

“No, do me a favor.” You ask him in that tone that made him shiver, your hand pointing at your desk, right at the white polaroid camera you had propped on top of it. Jungkook doesn’t know what you’re planning but he reaches for it anyways, handing you the device only to have you thrust it back in his hands. 

“Take a photo of me.” You say it so sweetly, like you’re asking him to take a photo of you smiling with flowers in your hair. 

Jungkook’s face twists up in confusion. You wanted a photo of yourself covered in his cum. You were definitely planning something and it was clear now that Jungkook was an accessory to all of this. 

Still he nods and points the camera down at you, begging his slowly softening dick to not spur back to life at the face you give him. Your hair’s messy from his hands yanking at it, your eyes wide and innocent as you scoop some of the cum off your cheek and pop it into your mouth for the photo. 

The flash goes off and you hum around your digit, slipping it out of your mouth as Jungkook grabs the exiting photo from the top of the camera. 

He sets it all down and is ready to go about the routine the way you always did but you stop him once more, “Wait, take another one.”

And like clockwork Jungkook obeys, the hex you had on him controlling his motions until he has the camera in his grasp a second time. He presses it against his eye and looks down at you, a strained gasp leaving him when you grab his sensitive cock and let the tip of it slip into your mouth. 

His fingers press on the shutter button immediately, capturing the moment on a little rectangle of film, the flash filling the room. When he goes to hand it to you all you do is shake your head and stand up on your sore legs. 

“Keep it.” You shrug, pulling your hair up into a pony tail and reaching for the other photo on your bed sheets. 

“I don’t think your boyfriend would like that.” It slips out without warning, an unknowing jab sent your way and Jungkook’s eyes widen at the words he just said as he steps into his jeans after slipping his underwear back on. 

You freeze as well, the grey shirt that belonged to the man he was talking about feeling heavy on your frame. “You mean Namjoon?” You question, not an ounce of shame in your words, knowing very well that Jungkook had spotted you out with him a few weeks ago. 

The name feels bitter on your tongue, trying your best not to let your distaste show on your face as you stare at him. Jungkook didn’t need to know that Namjoon had called it quits with you, the sneaking suspicion that you were messing around with someone else being too strong. It was the main reason you blocked Jungkook on instagram, he had become prime suspect number one thanks to the way he bombarded your photos. 

You needed to keep your distance from Jungkook in order to keep your relationship with Namjoon afloat, at least in the beginning, then you could go back to your routine. But Namjoon was too observant, and all it took was finding a pair of underwear that didn’t belong to him slipped under your bed for the mirage to come crumbling down around you. 

It angered you more because you had been careful, stopped sleeping around, but because Jungkook had left a pair of underwear weeks ago in his haste to leave it became a chain reaction the lead to Namjoon slamming the door behind him as he left your place a while before Jungkook stumbled his way through. 

That was too much information to tell Jungkook, you didn’t want to give him the impression that you searched for his comfort in the form of physical touch after your boyfriend left you. You didn’t need him to know that he was the only constant in your life, slot in between every failed relationship, maintaining his spot as the one you called to when you needed a distraction. 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow at the name, remembering the flashing ‘joonie’ on your phone screen. He only gives you a nod in response, his confusion deepening when you laugh. 

“He’s just a friend.” You lie through your teeth, setting the photo you knew you’d be sending him later onto your desk, grabbing a small towel you had and wiping your face clean with it. 

Jungkook doesn’t fully believe you but he doesn’t fight it, choosing to finish getting dressed in silence. If he was just a friend and was able to get you to go out on a date with him that what were Jungkook’s chances? What were the odds that his own name wasn’t some cute version of ‘kookie’ with an obscene amount of hearts at the end of it?

That was all wishful thinking though, he knew deep down that his name was just a plain and simple Jungkook, he knew the minute he’d ask you to go have lunch you’d ghost him like you did before. 

You watch him curiously as he puts his shoes on, seeing the way his mind was working on overdrive, overthinking everything and talking himself into circles. You needed him to stay close, to not let him get a taste of what life would be like without you so you approach him with that same saccharine smile. 

“Thanks Kookie.” You whisper out, cupping his cheek and leaning up on your toes to press a gentle kiss goodbye on his lips. He kisses back instantly, needing to feel more, wanting to wrap his arms around you like he did earlier but that was gone now and you were stepping back too quickly. 

A small yawn escapes your lips and he gets the hint, stuffing the dirty polaroid into his jean pocket and giving you a half smile, “Yeah of course, I’ll see you later Y/N.”

You flop onto your bed and wave at him as he exits your room but once the door shuts behind him you flip onto your stomach and groan loudly into your pillow, unaware that Jungkook could still hear you from his spot in the hallway. 

He decides not to open the door back up and check on you, making a swift exit and rushing to get into his car like he was running from something. And in a way he was.

Now that he’s confined inside his vehicle he slips the photo out of his pocket, turning the overhead lighting on to look at it properly now that it was developed. 

Your eyes were half lidded as you stared into the camera, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock while the tip of it prodded at your cheek, face covered in ribbons of his cum. It was the most explicit photo he’d ever had and he can’t even let himself get excited over it. Instead he opens up his center divider and stuffs the photo into there before slamming it shut. 

He pulls out of his parking spot and takes off back home, that hollow feeling in his chest returning when he remembers the words you told him today. He knows you were lying to him, Jungkook wasn’t stupid, but he just doesn’t understand what he did for you to constantly treat him this way. 

He feels the stinging at the back of his eyes, the streetlights becoming blurry at the edges as his vision got misty. An idea pops into his head so he pulls over onto a random corner, blinking away the tears before they could fall as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He knew what he had to do, for his own sanity.

You two weren’t right for each other, he was tired of being this puppet on strings for you to play with until you got bored and moved on to the next shiny new thing. Jungkook was sick of dreaming about taking you out, sick of wondering what lies you’d tell him next because you knew he was wrapped so tightly around your finger that he could never fight you on it. 

So he opens up instagram and goes to your page instantly, not letting himself think twice before he’s clicking on the block button, locking his phone and throwing it on the passenger seat before resuming his drive home, begging himself not to succumb to you once again.

And as you sit on your bed at home, scrolling through instagram and taking a peek at his page, knowing he usually posted an instagram story of whatever song he was listening to after leaving your apartment, you’re shocked to see the same words that haunted Jungkook for weeks. 

No posts yet. 

He had blocked you. For the first time in the years you’ve been fooling around you finally get a taste of the way you’ve been treating him. And as you sit in bed having the same dilemma he had before, wondering what you did or said, debating sending him a text, you feel the first twist in your heart that Jungkook had grown accustomed to and you don’t like it.

[prose-for-hire]

Guardian of the lost soul

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: if what the reader dress as an angel (kinda like Supernatural angels) and she finds the scoobies gang  in the haunted house with the costumes magically change them. (you know the episode ^-^)  only this time , Spike sees her wings and in angel terms that's a soulmate.

Requested by: @everlastingartist​

A/N: Kind of a soulmate au I think? I am not familiar with the Supernatural angels (yet - I plan on actually watching it soon) I did google them and I’m still none the wiser lol. So this is my own interpretation of what was requested! I chose a guardian angel, and twisted it in my own way. It is very made up but that’s what I’m here to do!

Also I mashed up two Halloween episodes together for this one but Spike doesn’t have a chip. Not even a soul. But he finds his soulmate.🖤🦇

You loved Halloween in Sunnydale, it never disappointed. The pumpkins were freshly carved, there was candy everywhere you turned and kids really did love dressing up and making a nuisance of themselves. Even when you were running for your life the mood always picked up somewhere after midnight. And hey, being friends with a very protective Slayer had its benefits.

You were basically skipping around the streets, you were excited about going to the haunted house. You had tried to convince Willow, along with buffy to take the ghost costume off but she flat out refused. Even when you begged all the way to the party. You wanted to get to the end so you could join the party with your friends and you waited briefly for everyone to show up so you could enter together. While you and Willow waited outside, a figure in a dark cloak pushed past you. There was something about them that you recognised but they muttered some insult at you for being in their way so you decided to just ignore them. Eventually, everyone arrived and you were able 

You had chosen to dress as an angel. A guardian angel. Not the stereotypical kind, one you had read of in some of Giles’ thick mythology books. You had been bored and the passages had been surprisingly interesting in an I’m-so-bored-I’d-read-the-back-of-a-cereal-packet kind of way. It spoke of the kinds of angels, of the truth about how they operate rather than those spoken of in popular culture. Some of your costume was white however as you wanted people to at least recognise what you had come as (although nobody except Willow had got it). 

You went through the various rooms together and had a laugh at some of the more ridiculous spooks in the house. There had been a slight tension a few words exchanged but mostly you were having a nice time. Everyone was squabbling over which way to go next and you had lost interest, managing to break away from the others.

As you did this, you saw the hooded figure again. You were sure you recognised the flashes you had seen of the person’s face. You left your friends for a moment to tap them on the shoulder and who should turn to face you but the big bad of the moment. Spike. You hadn’t faced him alone yet but he had always singled you out when you were with the others. The conversation always turned suggestive, which annoyed Buffy to no end and made you try to hide yourself when you were with the others.

You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t love the attention though. Hope that he would catch your eye. You longed for even a moment alone with him, although you were well aware of the danger. You couldn’t help like him but there was no way you would ever admit that to your friends. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to suppress a smile.

“Thought I’d drop by… see what tasty… treats Halloween has to offer” He closed the space between you as his voice became a little huskier with every step. His hand was on the wall, palm flat against it. His arm blocking you in as he slowly scanned your body before returning to your face.

“What has the devil got in store for you this Halloween do you reckon pet?” He asked, the smirk audible in his voice, “Somethin’ naughty no doubt…” He added, biting his lip teasingly.

“I’m an angel. Always preferred them anyway” You shrugged. It had been a very low blow and when you saw his expression darkening into anger rather than lust, you backtracked – knowing better than to get him mad, “To the devil, I mean”

“Bollocks – where are the wings? The halo? And you’re not foolin’ anyone wearing that white-” he gestured wildly to the corresponding area where each item should have been with the hand that wasn’t leaning against the wall. You smiled, about to respond when someone interrupted.

“Spike!” Buffy shouted, having turned to find you in the haunted house. She was relieved to see you (as she had lost the others) but she was not pleased to see the vampire that still had you boxed in, pressed pretty close against you.

Buffy made light work of hauling him away and trying to throw him out of the house completely. She tried to find the front door but it had gone. You were now aware you were trapped inside this now truly haunted house. No, it was worse. It had turned into a murder house as half the student body upstairs had started to scare themselves to death almost before the real threat had.

Everyone was rushing past you and as Spike smelled fresh blood, he ran in the opposite direction to where the others were coming from, straight into the carnage. His stomach was rumbling and he was ready for a decent meal.

Everything was going on at once and you wanted it to slow down, or at least give you chance for a breather. There were too many threats at play tonight. As if the powers had requested it this way, a busy scene of threat and revelations for their own personal enjoyment. 

As you tried again and again to leave and to help find the others, things started to get worse. You had now lost Buffy and were trying to find her by (you guessed it) calling out her name which was the best way to attract anything other than good luck. You had to fight off some cobwebs and now, your own body it seemed. You were hurting, doubled over. Something was happening. You sunk to your knees, grimacing. Nothing was going your way. 

It was a strange night. The strangest Halloween you had experienced. The others were lost and at the same moment, Willow turned into a real ghost. Xander a real soldier and Buffy was now a genuine high society lady from the 1700s. It was spooky and not in a cute way.

You had managed to get to your feet, pulling on the cobwebs as they attacked your head again. As you looked down checking you had removed any stray webbing, you saw that you were glowing. Literally. You appeared human still - no wings or halos but there was a strange feeling that you had aged hundreds of years in just a few seconds. Not in appearance, that was still your skin and your face. But in knowledge. As if you had read every book known to man and then some. You felt powerful. Strange.

You walked around, able to know what was happening in every room. You managed to get places just by thinking about it. Able to protect people before they succumbed to the terrors the house had in store. You didn’t know how this was happening, but you knew better than to question it.

You had hope. You had a purpose and you were getting used to adapting to different people and their needs. That was until it came to something you needed. You turned and saw your friends through a two way mirror. They had all found each other but you couldn’t get to them. They were trying to remember who they were and come up with a plan. You started to panic, banging your fist on the mirror that you could see them through but they didn’t hear you. You hurriedly left through a side door to try and get to them seeing as your previous power wasn’t working. But you never made it to your friends. You had walked straight into someone. The one someone that you always managed to find, no matter what.

Spike had appeared. He seemed the same except... was that a heart beat? You frowned as he stepped towards you, the swagger still in tact.

 “You listened to me then, pet? About time” He muttered as you looked at him confused. You didn’t understand. You looked around for some kind of clue until he spoke again, “The wings. You put ‘em on. Knew it would complete the look… not that you need to be wearing any more clothin’ items” He added, the trademark smirk on his face as he almost prowled towards you further.

“I’m not wearing any wings…” You said slowly as he came to stand right in front of you, leaving not so much as room to breath between you. He frowned, and looked behind you before looking back into your eyes. He could see the wings as clear as anything. They had a large wingspan, it was kind of impossible to miss. He reached out the touch them and you felt his fingers. You frowned, checking behind you. There they were, bat-like rather than the feathered kind you had expected and almost translucent whilst appearing closer to your skin tone. He found them aesthetically very appealing. Almost as if it were a part of you. He just stared, almost in awe as he felt they were warm the texture as soft as your skin.

 It came to you suddenly. The folklore you had been researching. The mythology. The only one that may see the wings of the angel is their soulmate. Their one eternal love. It was said that every angel had a soulmate and that no matter how long they lived, they should find their soul no matter how seemingly impossible. No matter how many times they were lost, they would always be found. And you had found yours. Your love.

You and Spike had been less than useless during the fight to escape the haunted house and regain your own lives back. You were perfectly happy right here. Locked in each others gaze. A happiness neither of you had felt before until this moment. Until this revelation. You had been sharing. Talking so easily to one another. Him telling you stories of his past, and you surprising yourself with stories of your own. Ones that could match his. You felt an entrenched need to protect him. To hold you into him so that no harm could ever befall him. 

The chaos going on around you was now secondary to your story. You holed up in a room together, Spike never looking away from you. The guardian angel in you was screaming for you to help the others again, but your heart was set on him. On relearning of your love. You had faith in your friends abilities anyway.

He leaned in, his thumb trailing your face and lingering near your lips. He had thought about this for so long. His usual crude quips had been founded in truth. Forged to both show how he felt and camouflage them at the same time. He felt for you so deeply his soul had made an unwitting appearance back into his life. Whenever you were around his heart felt as if it may break free from his ribcage in the hopes of greeting yours.

You closed your eyes as he did, the build up to this kiss achingly slow. You could feel his breath on his face he was so close. His touch was warm and familiar, his lips made for yours. You could feel it. The anticipation almost became too much as he finally grazed your lips.

But, just as suddenly as it was cast, the spell broke. The feeling of danger returned to your gut as you were in Spike’s presence. Your kiss never deepening. Your stomach flipping as you snapped opened your eyes. Spike’s vampire instincts kicked back in and it was resoundingly telling him that he was hungry. Your scent was so enticing to him, his face changed of its own accord. His fangs so close to you but you knew he wouldn’t kill you. You knew it as if it were fact. As if it were gravity or the colour of the sky being blue. Spike loved you and wouldn’t harm you. They were each true sentences, you had never been so sure.

Buffy, however, now fresh from being bound in the sensibilities of a woman with no aspirations other than to be pretty was ready for a fight. She had fought to escape the haunted house and now she would fight the nearest big bad in sight. Spike. She wrenched him from your neck.

But when he drew back, he had the same look in his eye as he had only moments before. Your soulmate was still right here in front of you, there was nobody that could convince you otherwise. And believe me, Spike really tried since then.

Buffy and Spike traded blows. Neither became victorious, but you were able to leave the house and Giles had somehow managed to force Ethan Rayne into reversing the curse he had put on your costumes. 

After that long Halloween night, your mind barely stopped thinking about him. Sometimes you walked around after dark to see if he would come along and pretend to eat you as an excuse to just talk to you. He often wished to find an excuse to see you. Without knowing what it was, he felt it too. Deep within. Stronger since Halloween night. Sometimes he found himself standing around in places he knew you would frequent just so he could watch you. Catch a glimpse of you. Although, he had been doing this before Halloween as well.

You remembered so much more than that night, however. Memories that should have been long since buried of you and Spike finding each other over and over in other places and times still lingered as you wished his thumb still would along your jaw. You still remembered those memories and you wrote them all down before you could forget. They were like dreams, something you knew so well but struggled to recall in enough detail to satisfy.

You would forever carry a piece of his soul around with you now. That feeling just couldn’t go away, you wouldn’t let it. It was as if his soul were a locket hung around your neck. You would guard it with your life. Keep it close to your heart. 

He would come back to you, you were sure of it and you were happy to wait until that day came.

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Hiccup by Valley

Summary: After encountering a road block in your relationship, what path will you take to wind up your broken heart with Iwaizumi?

Pairings: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem!reader

Genre/Warning: angst, cursing

Word count: 6k

A/N: i promise myself i was going to write some bokuto fluff but this song keeps bringing me back to iwa😣 also pls listen to this song<3

2 YEARS AGO

"Tooru."

You call out to him, knees to the floor clutching tightly on your shirt, droplets to the wooden surface. Oikawa harshly closes his eyes, unable to let his eyes rest on your weakened state. He takes a deep breath when he hears your mournful sob. He hears how you took in rough gasps of air so he drops the box from his hands as he rushes to you, his knee scraping from sliding to the floor as he takes you in his chest as you sobbed even more. Oikawa allowing his own tears to fall on your clothes.

He consistently caresses your hair, as your sniffles and cries of pain covered the eary atmosphere of your apartment.

"Tooru." You call out again, he closes his eyes as he leans his head on yours. He dreaded every second that passed knowing he shouldn't be the one to comfort you, but he knew your savior wasn't going to rescue you this time.

"Do you think he'll miss me?"

"I know he will, darling." He assures you, and you wipe your eyes gasping for air once again before speaking again. He lets his hand slide down to your back, patting it every now and then.

"But there's someone better huh?"

Oikawa bites his lip, and you take this silence as an answer you'd never forget. Your lips tug upwards, grinning at how it stung when it came from Oikawa. To Tooru, no one could replace you. He couldn't envision someone to love his brother the way you did and no amount of pain can top how much you cherished each other but he couldn't answer because he was unsure of the motives of the past ace.

"Thank you for staying." You whisper and he pulled you closer as he sighs, glancing at the apartment that appeared in their late night video calls. The same room where he saw the brightest smile that was painted on Iwaizumi, the eyes that carried passion whenever you'd pop up. Visiting the apartment for the first time, he didn't expect how- lifeless it felt.

"Always."

PRESENT

You stretched as you rolled over to the side, used to the ghost of him. You shouldn't be used to it, he should be there to occupy it everyday but every morning you were just greeted by the chilliness he brought you.

The sun sneakily shined upon your eyes as you immediately turn away, expecting the memories to strike your heart like it does whenever the sun flaunted its rays.

"You're mesmerizing." He whispers, his pointer finger inched its way down to your cheek, smiling to himself. You hummed in response, shuffling in the sheets as his heart pounders at the sight of your shoulder peeking through the thin material, with the sunlight decorating your skin with its beauty.

You opened your eyes only to be surprised by how bright the sun was making you close them immediately, giggling to yourself. Who knew his heart could melt even more? Once you've slowly opened your eyes again, you gaze at your Hajime placing a hand on his cheek. With his hand on your chin, he slowly lifts it so your lips meet with his as you smile, running your hand from his cheek to his hair, while closing your eyes at the

He pulls away as butterflies swarmed inside him, pushing back the string of hair that landed in your eyes.

"I love you."

"Forever?"

"And ever after."

You curse at the usual memory that would pass you every morning. It annoyed you how there wasn't a day where you weren't starting the morning this pissed off. Realistically speaking, you adored how your memories would bring life to your body once in a while but when love appears, pain tags along- making it hard to enjoy the only things that could take away the emptiness.

Without him, you could never bring yourself to close the curtains. A habit you've devastatingly brought upon yourself.

Whenever the sun rose and it's light surrounded your room, it was the closest embrace you could ever have from him.

You let your fingers graze over the longing sensation on your lips. Incapable of forgetting how every kiss from his plush lips made you high. Intoxicated with his devotion to you. Each having it's own unique way of bringing you stories from the way it synced with yours.

Do you ever think about coming back to kiss my mouth? You ask yourself, sadly letting go of your lips before stepping into the bathroom.

I miss the taste of you and it's always been you. Iwaizumi thinks to himself as he feels the tingle of coldness from his lips. Like you, he adored the way his mornings were blessings but his room looked like a grave for his emotions.

Curtains closed, not allowing to let the sun peak through since the light in his world wasn't there to bring back the life in his soulless apartment.

He steps out of bed entering his bathroom, brushing his teeth as he rubs his eyes with his free hand.

"S-shush! Baby- baby stop talking!" He says chuckling before placing the toothbrush in your mouth. You two were superbly drunk and it seems like even if Iwaizumi was drunk to the gods, he was still the responsible one in the relationship. You were already about to pass out but his loud laughter kept you awake.

"But Hajime- let me sleep already, you're so noisy bub." You pout but he chuckles again. You turn behind you try and sit on top of the counter but you slid off when you jumped. Iwaizumi shakes his head with a grin as he places his hand on your waist before effortlessly lifting you and placing you on the bathroom sink.

You continue to brush your teeth as he watches how your eyes would droop every second. You spit out the toothpaste before taking in some water and spitting it out as well. You wiped your mouth before bringing your arms outward. "Am I okay now babe? Hajime- honey I wanna sleep." You beg as he rolls his eyes taking you in his arms, like a bride.

"And what about you mister? Did you brush your teeth?" You teased, taking in the aroma of alcohol he had. He bit his lips trying not to laugh but he shakes his head, answering your question. You let out a gasp of betrayal as you hopped out of his arms grabbing the toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it, but you hear his cackle making you laugh as well, addicted to how it made you join him in an instant.

"Princess, at least put it on the actual brush. Not the other end you dumbie." He states making you look down on your failure of an attempt. You let out an "Oh." and this brought tears to both of your eyes from laughing endlessly.

He gazes at his reflection through the mirror as he takes a deep breath. It felt like if he'd utter a word, his voice would already crack at the resurfaced moment. He scolds himself for having minimal change in a span of two years. He told himself that he shouldn't wallow in the grief but he endured it for days.

There wasn't a clear way for him to move on, especially when you drained him from all functions of his mind. The only thing that interests him to be happy was that he held on to the probability of meeting you again. Even if the chances were slim to none, he'd take anything that there is left just to see you again.

Though it seems like, he'd have to suffer longer just for it to happen.

-

Maybe I'd understand the things that you'd do. You whisper as you take another gulp of alcohol. It was Saturday, your supposed late night sessions with Iwaizumi but instead you were solo for today, and maybe for the rest of the years. You bitterly chuckle to yourself as you didn't bother to answer Oikawas call. Your phone kept going off, receiving dozens of messages and missed calls from the setter. He deeply hated Saturdays, or at least your version of it.

Whether you chose to bottle down every beer you had, or scream and get smothered in mascara stains from crying, or even worse, both. Sometimes you'd even mistaken Oikawa for Iwaizumi, and Oikawa allows it knowing it's a way for you to cope. He hated how far away he was but he strictly told you that if you were ever to pursue yourself to go to the club, he'd drop everything and book a ticket to you immediate, of course this was enough for you to listen especially when you'd feel guilty for wasting his time.

Oikawa knew better than to ask for Iwaizumis help. He remained a bridge for the two of you, knowing he'd encounter to different sides. Iwaizumi had him pick up his belongings in your apartment, denying to step foot in your room. In which brought Oikawa to tears at sight of his best friends past lover in such a disaster of a state. So granting Iwaizumis wish, he stayed.

"Why can't you do it? It's your apartment." Oikawa argued making Iwaizumi grunt in pain as he secretly wipes away the tears in his eyes. He sighs before facing the setter.

"She hates me, Oikawa." He says, staring directly at the boy. Oikawa scoffs but stares at the ground, hands to his side formed in a fist.

Is it that bad? He questions.

"Iwa- what happened?" He asks nervously but Iwaizumi only closes his eyes as he tries to get rid of the screams from the previous night.

"I'll tell you soon. When you see her, maybe you'll understand why I can't do this, why I can't face her. Just please do me one favor." The tone in his voice slowly lessens with the last sentence, making Oikawas heart ache for the two of you. Looking at Iwaizumis eyes, Oikawa could see the way he was holding back, but from what? There was a certain change in his usual stare- he looked lost.

Oikawa sits on the couch as he lets his hand gesture for Iwaizumi to speak. He couldn't say anything else but he hoped that Iwaizumi would take his silence as an answer already. Oikawa would do anything for Iwa, and if he was your other half, and Oikawa will do the same to you.

"Save her."

"From what, Iwa?"

"From what I've done."

Oikawa was impatiently waiting for your response but it seems you've decided to push him aside again. Although he was home, the distance from him to you was troublesome so he insisted to call you instead.

He assumed that last year you've gotten better since you spent you Saturday sleeping instead of drinking, but it progressively got worse.

"I mean, one drink wouldn't hurt right?"

He was dumbfounded when one drink turned into hundreds. He knew it was difficult to continue especially when you and Iwaizumi were having the time of your lives everytime. Whether you were extremely drunk, he knew that you two acted the complete same when you were sober. There wasn't a difference, meaning that's just how love worked between you two.

"Tooru- honey!" You shout as Iwaizumi pouts. It was your 4th anniversary and Oikawa decided to call to greet the lovely couple another successful year of your relationship.

"It's shittykawa to you, babe." Iwaizumi teases making Oikawa rolls his eyes. Through the camera, he sees you above Iwaizumi with arms wrapped around his neck without your chin resting on the boys head as he smiles, content to see that 4 years and love didn't change, not even a bit.

"Disgusting lovebirds, happy anniversary to you both!" Oikawa cheers as you giggle, blowing a kiss to him for greeting you two.

"Thank you Tooru-" your words were cut off by a gasp of realization as you shake Iwaizumi. Hajime takes in your excitement as he shakes his head at your actions.

"Hajime! There's no way you're not making Tooru as your best man- anyway! Tooru! This my official invitation for you to be his best man at our wedding!" Oikawa laughs as he raises his eyebrow to Iwaizumi who had a smirk on his lips.

"Well, I will be overly disappointed if I wasn't chosen. If Iwa-chan declines, I'll be your best man instead Y/N, or if you take my offer, I'll be the groom." He winks to you as you laugh before taking another sip of your drink. Iwaizumi flips off Oikawa and the setter only returns this by poking his tongue out to his best friend.

"So is that right, Iwa-chan? Will you finally bend the knee for the lovely lady?" With Oikawas question, you turn to Iwaizumi as if you were nervous. You bit your lip looking at your boyfriend before he pecks your lips catching you off guard as he looks at you with a smirk.

"I'd be a fool not to." He says making you squeal, as you immediately cover your face in your hands, embarassed by how red you got. Oikawa rolls his eyes, envious at the love you shared. Although, he is joyous that you've made Iwaizumi the happiest man he can be, even if you two weren't married yet, to Oikawa it looks like your relationship will only lead to the altar.

There wasn't a single doubt to that.

"Y/N! I thought you've forgotten how to pick up the phone again." He scolds you but his anger washes away when he sees you with red eyes and sniffling uncontrollably.

"Hajime." She calls out, as Oikawa sighs into his pillow realizing it's another night of him acting as Iwaizumi. He's already heard all the things you wanted to say to the missing boy and he accepted the fact that you'll never have the heart to say it to Iwaizumi himself.

"Why do I miss you, now that you're out of my life?" You cried. Oikawa only rests his chin on the palm of his hand as you continued to pour your sadness upon him. You swing the bottle in your hands before downing another wave of liquor.

"I wanna know what you're doing tonight." You whisper as you take your phone, clicking on Iwaizumis contact but before you could, Oikawa spoke, knowing your next intentions.

"No, not again Y/N." He says but you shake your head your finger threatening to press it already.

"Y/N listen to me, Iwa would have contacted you right now but this isn't the time!" He argued but you scoffed, angry tears brimming in your eyes.

"No! Then when will that time come then! I've been waiting for so fucking long already! It's never gonna happen 'cause he's forgotten me- Fuck!" You shouted, taking Oikawa by surprise as you collapse to the floor once again, Oikawa coming back to the sight of you he wanted to forget.

"Y/N- babe I'm sorry-"

"Enough, Oikawa. If you could've been honest that Hajime's found another, then-then maybe I-" your voice cracks as you stressfully runs your fingers through your hair, gripping it tight in your hands as you let out another doleful sob, breaking Toorus heart.

"I don't know what do anymore." You whispered, your heart shattering in to even more finer pieces. You couldn't even put into words how you've been in torment for years.

It finally dawned on you that you weren't headed to the altar, you were headed in a different path.

Without him.

"Y/N- listen- Iwaizumi-" you ended the call leaving Oikawa stunned as he drops the phone in his hands in frustration and in regret. He decided to visit Iwaizumi, knowing it'd be hard to ever communicate with you again, especially that you've been struck by a wrong thought.

And no one else could handle you the way Hajime would.

"Iwa-chan."

"Oikawa? What is it?"

"I fucked up, I'm sorry."

-

Iwaizumi held his breath as Oikawa explained what happened. He couldn't wrap his head around the unintentional pain Oikawa has given you.

"Iwa, I'm so sorry." Tooru says, making Iwaizumi close his eyes visioning your features crushing at the idea of him having somebody by his side.

Hajimes eyes would never betray you. The only reflection that stayed in his eyes, was the future that was thrown away.

"Oikawa, hey it's okay, I understand." Iwaizumi says with a soft tone to assure Oikawa. Tooru would never intentionally hurt you, he was there to save you. Even if Iwaizumi didn't ask him to take care of you, Oikawa would do everything to bring a smile on your lips. As much love you have to Hajime, its the same amount you have to Oikawa.

"Leaving isn't bad because you're gonna come back with something even better and that's the best version of yourself."

It's your words that he counted on. He believed that he wasn't being selfish, or prideful. You made him believe that finding himself was enough to get him all the medals, the passion, and everything he wanted. So he'd want nothing more than to give thanks to you.

"Iwa."

Oikawa breaks the silence. Iwaizumi looks at him while biting down on his fingers, his heart beating too loudly at the thought of you.

"Why didn't you call her- not even giving her a proper goodbye." Tooru asks with masked anger in his tone. How could he help Hajime when he's blocking him from the truth?

"Iwaizumi. Answer me. For once." Oikawa begs, but once he's met with the silence, he's never been more eager to give in to anger.

"I just- I can't let it happen again, Oikawa. Not to her, not to us."

"Baby, what movie do you want to watch on Saturday? I've seen so many good ones lately." Iwaizumi turns to you with an exhausted expression. You were arranging the condiments in the cabinet, waiting for his response.

"Can't we- reschedule? I-I have something to go to-"

"You can't blow me off for the third time this week, Iwa." You spat, sick of the excuses. Has it really been three times? Iwaizumi questions as he leans on the couch, letting out a sigh. To which is a response you didn't expect to receive.

"I've been busy." He lied, he may not feel it, but there wasn't a single hesitation when he spoke. You memorize his schedules, his after meetings, the excused he's mentioned didn't even bother to make sense. It hurt how he was able to come up so easily, not even thinking about you'd be able to piece them all together.

"Or are you just tired, Iwaizumi?"

You asked rudely. He looks at you before rolling his eyes, covering your heart in bitterness at his pride.

"So what if I am?"

He talked back, hitting you with a bigger wave of emotions. You slammed the door of the cabinet, marching to him each step mixed with rage and pain.

"You're tired? Imagine what I've been feeling, Hajime!" You shout, volume picking up on your tone as this makes Iwaizumi stand up from the couch, not backing down at the power of your voice.

"Clingy? Needy? Pathetic? Tell me, does that sound any different to you?" He said it with so much disgust, strong enough to make you doubt everything you've fought for.

"So you don't give a fuck? Is that what you're so proud of, Iwaizumi? That you're so fucking insensitive?" He felt a tug on his heart when you called him that. It's been so long since he's heard you say it so- normal. As odd as it is, he couldn't hear his name the same again, especially when it came from you.

"Exactly! God I- Y/N. This is why-"

"WHAT IWAIZUMI!"

"This why I'm so fucking tired of you!" He shouted, not only did it create a barrier in your apartment, it brought up your past barrier that he broke down but now he's the cause of it to return.

"You're just- can you even make it on your own without me? It's like if I leave you'd- lose your shit! We need space!" He was fuming with confused anger as you feel your throat give out. You were shaking, your heart was too fast and unsteady, you weren't the same.

"But space is what you've been giving me! Coming home so late? Standing me up? You don't even fucking realize how many dates we missed!" He scoffs before running his fingers through his raven hair. Taking a step towards you, making you stand your ground as you tilt your head to meet with his empty eyes.

This isn't the man who could love you forever and ever after.

"So what! I've got so many things to do apart from dealing with your shit!" You stare back at him, weakened at how your heart couldn't handle it anymore.

You looked down, feeling the sting in your hands when your nails digged into the skin of your palm. He sits down on the couch, drained from the war full of shouting and the damage his heart was in.

Surprisingly, you sat beside him but there was such an intense distance between you.

He turns to you but chills ran up his spine when he sees how you look like you've agreed to everything he's said, making his eyes widen at the foreign feeling.

This is what he was scared of. Failing to find interest in the same routine, to find the energy to continue like he used to. Being worn out by how repetitive things were even when the love you both had was nowhere near boring.

In fact, it was exhilarating. You were both curious to try things together, that's what led you to even owning an apartment together, planning a future, even planning your marriage that was now a blur.

He trembled. Regret, anxiousness, exhaustion. He didn't expect himself to feel this way, especially to you, who he loved completely but felt a certain drift in his heart. He looks away from you as his eyes trail on the picture of you two. He couldn't hold it in his hands to look at how happy he looked, because he isn't the same anymore.

He's lost his way.

"D-did I..lack something?" She asks quietly. He gulps at her question. It was so heavy to him. How you asked him, questioning yourself in this relationship. With anxious hands, he wanted to reach out for you but his efforts were surpassed when he felt a wall between you and him.

"Am I worth.. to keep?"

Please, baby. He begs in his mind for you to stop. He couldn't register how he couldn't make himself speak. He was holding back too much, terrified that he was going to break you more and more with every word he'd toss to you.

"Then this is pointless isn't it?"

You both look at each other, both met with different expressions in your eyes. Iwaizumi could see how tired you were, how he knew you wouldn't be able to look at him the same way before, since he gave up first. While you can see how there wasn't a single lie in his eyes, the downfall was upon you.

No matter the space you give him, there can never be a spark to bring him back.

He bit his lip, facing the truth. Even he knew there isn't any other way.

"I know what you're gonna say, Hajime."

"Princess.. I'm sorry"

"Just go." It was impossible for him to follow your orders when all he wishes is to stay but then again, he's run out of reasons to.

"You gave up, Iwa!" Oikawa shouts, standing up to the boy. Iwaizumi lets his eyes wonder on the floor because he said nothing but the truth.

"There isn't anything I can-"

He's heard enough. You've asked Oikawa many heartbreaking questions. They were all unanswerable, and it pained him he couldn't give you at least one. He was in pain as much as you were. He hated how stupid Iwaizumi was for leaving you and choosing to cower away. He hated how you blamed yourself and slashing your heart because of Iwaizumi.

The tension has set fire to Oikawa and with years of loyalty between the two, Oikawa throws a heavy punch to Iwaizumi, disgusted of his actions.

Iwaizumi, completely at shocked at Oikawas punch, steps back a few times before his blood dropped on his fingers. Oikawa walks straight to Iwaizumi capturing his collar and pulling the boy upwards, nothing but rage consuming the setter.

"Did you love her then? Don't tell me this bullshit that you can't go back to her. Do you even wanna know what she asks me?" Iwaizumi removes Oikawas hands from his shirt, crumpling it in the process. Oikawa lets out a sarcastic laugh as he looks at Hajime.

"Ah, so you know how much shit you put her through? Then maybe you are an asshole but god- Iwa she loves you so much. If that isn't a good enough reason for you to talk to her, then I'll find somebody else for her." Oikawa threatens as Iwaizumi lets out a sob, nothing but regret that he hurt two of the most important people on his life.

"But what if it happens again?"

Iwaizumi asks, it was the only thing that held him back for returning into your arms. He isn't stable enough to return when the fear lingers in his head. What if he falls out of love? What if he gets tired again? Then you'll never want his presence again. He couldn't master up the courage because he too was scared of it.

He will not go through dozens of years just to be apart from you. He's already lost his mind to see you and Oikawa face the tragedy that he left you with. He felt nauseated with himself. How can he promise you forever when it was out of his grasp?

"Why don't you find out?"

It was a simple sentence that left Oikawas lips yet it brought Hajime to tears. It would've been that easy. If he didn't stay with his demons, then maybe you were here to offset his heart. After 2 years, isn't it too late to realize that he's never really ran out of love? It strengthened, but he was so afraid of battling with you like you did, hating how he was the man who shattered your overall being.

"Thank you, Oikawa."

He whispers as Oikawa takes a seat beside him, smiling that he brought the boy to realize the amount of time he's wasted by being surrounded by doubt. Oikawa pats the boys shoulder, sighing in relief that Iwaizumi was back.

"Always."

-

You swore to avoid your phone the entire day. As much as you wanted to apologize to Oikawa for the outburst, you just wanted a day of silence since your thoughts never give you the chance. Not only did you promise to avoid technology, you decided to avoid people as well, promising to yourself you'd rather stay inside in order to avoid the envy you had for other couples.

So here you are, tucked in your jacket, wrapped in your blanket waking up from a 4 hour nap. You yawned before squinting when you open your phone. It's 8pm and your stomach was nowhere near happy. Slowly standing up, you make your way to the kitchen opening the fridge seeing absolutely no hope to make a meal. Sighing lazily, you decided it'd be best to just buy some food.

After getting ready, you step out of your apartment as you drive to the place where you usually order. You admired how the moon lit your way. Opening your windows you smile when the cold whiff of air instantly surrounded your car. You loved the way your hair flew in the wind while you listened to the song playing.

Once you've finished your bought dinner, you decided to take a turn in your path. Now that it was late at night, you couldn't resist to visit a place you've been missing.

You take in a deep breath as you leaned on the metal bar, loving the way the view still took your breath away. You were face to face with the nightlights and the busy town below you. Not only was it stunning but it was a place to recall some of your favorite moments with him now that you were out of your comfortless of an apartment.

"Sorry for being late, Oikawa was an ass." Iwaizumi excuses himself as he stood beside you leaning on the rod, smiling once he takes in the lights. He turns to you before removing his jacket and placing it on your shoulders, a sweet gesture that had you blushing every time.

You couldn't refuse knowing he would've scolded you. Instead, you stood closer to him before leaning your head on his arm. With his hand, he interlaced his fingers with yours, as your heart flutters. He takes in your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it as you did the same with his hand making him twirl you in satisfaction. You giggle before landing on his chest as he leans down and places his warm hands to your cheeks as he leans in to take your lips with his.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, reciprocating his kiss. He's given you hundreds of kisses before, how is this any different than the rest?

He pulls away, as your foreheads touch as you both painted a smile on your lips, feeling a slight tickle to it with how flustered you both were.

"I love you so much." He whispers, the first time he's ever let the three words slip from his mouth. Your hands make their way his hair, grabbing it lightly before nodding happily.

"I love you more, my Hajime."

Who knew that just by saying those three words, it was enough for you to believe in an ever after with him? Maybe you were wrong to fall for it even though he gave you a fragment of your so called forever.

You glanced beside you to see a vacant spot and you let out a disappointed sigh. You take in the sight of your fingers, missing the way it perfectly fit in his and how he held it with so much care, giving you an idea that he'd never let you go. Unfortunately he broke this bond but you still longed for his skin to be at contact with yours again.

You sat down placing your hand on the bench as you close your eyes leaning your back on it. You felt a shift of weight beside you, someone finally accompanying you in this lonely night but you've caught on the familiar scent of the stranger and you let the name slid off your tongue.

"Hajime."

He turns to you in shock that you knew it was him but you open your eyes, turning your head to be faced with the man you've been longing to see in two years. He looked the same, the same face who clouded your dreams. He was certainly your Hajime, the pretty boy you've adored since you were in high school.

Happy anniversary. You silently greet each other. How bittersweet, isn't it? What was meant to be your 6th year, turned into 2 years of avoiding each other.

And as you took in Iwaizumis appearance, he did the same with you. Loving the way your features clicked in his memory instantly. Was it even possible for you to be even more beautiful? To Iwaizumi, it was. He absolutely missed you, but why was his heart nervous?

What do I do? He asks himself. Small talk isn't what you deserved. God- you deserve so much more. Endless hours of talking, his embrace, his love, that's what you missed. He was willing to love you with everything he's got, now knowing he'll never run out of it because he isn't scared anymore.

"This isn't a dream is it?" You asked as you turn back to the sky counting the stars that was above you. He was glad you broke the silence, and he appreciated how there wasn't the same tension before. It felt so- serene and unique. Something he wishes it'd be a good sign for the both of you.

"I can't believe it either." He exclaims making you smile. You couldn't ask him how he's doing, not wanting to drag on a conversation you've waited years for to happen, you couldn't let it be bland and meaningless.

"We were something weren't we?" You asked with a soft smile. Iwaizumi chuckles beside you, as he sits closer to you. The cold air swirling around you two as well as the car noised filling in the comforting silence.

"God, I miss what that's like." Iwaizumi answers as you look at him. You looked down on the floor with tears appearing again, the same as Iwaizumi. You were both craving to hold each other but it didn't sit right to just rush into each other knowing there's so much to unpack.

Maybe it was a bit unexpected that you'd face him this way. Echoing through your ears was the conversation between you and Tooru about how the time never came. Now, you weren't even close to being prepared. You both imagined a proper conversation wherein you two would agree to meet up and talk things out. Yet subconsciously, you came to the same place at the same time not even knowing you'd meet. You lacked strength to bundle the words that you've always wanted to say to him and he felt the same way.

The last time you sat next to each other, that was when you parted. Now, back in the same position, it felt overwhelming. Seeing each other for the first time, both had you shocked and careful of your words. You wanted to scream how much you loved him, and he wanted to hold you in his arms to wash away the bleeding of your heart.

You loved how the universe made you two meet. It was quite painful that it had to be the place where you've shared so many memories with him. You didn't know if this was a blessing in disguise but you couldn't complain when the love of your life was here, beside you.

When he saw you, he felt like the sun shined above him like it did every morning. Where he had an angel to wake up next to, when he couldn't spot a single imperfection in your skin when the sun danced in your beauty.

And you've finally remembered the way his touch would bring you the assurance without words. His unexpected kisses, his sweet embrace, his smile that makes your heart run a marathon.

You're finally here. You both think, your hearts synced in how you've waited for this moment.

With your hand on the bench, he places his hand on top of yours, feeling like it was too fragile to hold but you didn't pull away. He takes in your features in the moonlight as his heart picks up the pace at the feeling that washes over him.

There isn't a barrier anymore.

Having the chance to hold your hand like this, he'll never take this for granted again. His everything, back in his touch, god how lucky he was. Remembering Oikawas words, one thing was clear to Iwaizumi, and that was the fact that he couldn't afford to have another hiccup in your relationship.

"We really fucked up this time." Iwaizumi comments making the both of you chuckle as he intertwines your hands with his, smiles on either your faces now that you've finally found the path to each other.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Mystery Twins: Ghost

A new AU inspired by Mystery Skulls…

AO3 link

ch.2

~~~~~~~~~~

A catchy song played on the radio, making the young pair of twins in the back bob their heads and jump in their seats to the music. Ford smiled, looking back with his near-view mirror, and his smile stayed even when he had to focus back on the road. His hands and body weren’t used to driving the red Diablo, but he managed it okay, mostly because he was with his family.

Driving through the backwood-roads in the dark forest, the car was operating fine, but then the radio was glitching and the car was sputtering to a stop. The eight-year-olds in the back braced themselves as they slowed down, Ford listening carefully for an indication as to what was wrong with the Stanmobile.

“Grunkle Ford, what’s wrong?” Dipper asked, the boy who often felt like a ghost.

“I’m not sure.” Said the man who knew the most. “It sounds like the battery…”

“Maybe it has something to do with that.” Mabel suggested, looking outside and pointing to a structure they were coming up on.

The car came to a stop in front of a very large, rich-looking, antique cabin. With many levels and even a tower, this grand old-styled building seemed to be beating with life, like a giant wooden heart, and a faint reddish glow came from within. The Diablo refused to move any further, so Ford and the kids got out. The aged scientist popped the hood with Dipper by his side and they both saw the red bolts of lightning sparking around the battery and engine, freezing everything.

“Looks like somebody doesn’t want us to leave.” Ford theorized and looked up at the large house, but he gasped with horror seeing his little niece skip to the door. “Mabel!” He hissed.

Dipper turned and ran after his sister, holding his lucky pinetree hat down to keep it from blowing off his Pines’ fluffy brown hair. “Mabel, wait for me!”

The little girl stood on tippy-toes in her black flats and white socks and rang the doorbell. It sang a surprisingly joyful tune, and then the door opened. The children entered and the door remained open. Ford ran inside after his children; he knew they were more than capable of taking care of themselves, but given recent circumstances, he’d rather not take the risk.

The second Ford stepped inside the dwelling, however, the door closed by itself. The guardian wrapped an arm around each child, with Dipper on his left and Mabel on his right, and they were entertained by a small performance of bright red fire dancing in the suffocating darkness, until the flames landed on tall candles by the wall, and everything was highlighted with reds, oranges, and yellows.

Mabel’s eyes dazzled with excitement, as well as Dipper’s while he did sweat a bit on the forehead, and Ford was even more on guard. Three small goat-resembling blobs of red soul appeared from the floor and swarmed the small family. Mabel reached to pet one, but Dipper grabbed her hand and ran, and Ford ran after them.

The red fire brought life to the painting of Natives and lumberjacks. While the live humans ran down the hallways of the large wooden manor, many different ghosts flew around the air; little child-like spirits were being chased by punk ghosts, keys and keyhole were floating aimlessly, a soul-sucker landed on Ford’s shoulder, but he flicked it away like it was an annoying bug.

“This place is amazing!” Dipper cheered. “Look how many categories, Grunkle Ford!”

“Yes, it is impressive,” Ford huffed, half excited, half worried for the children’s safety. “But let’s hope we don’t meet a Level- AAAAAAAHH!!!” A trap door suddenly appeared beneath him and the old scientist fell, the hole quickly covered before the kids could see what had happened.

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, shrugged, and ran down the hall to the shining room ahead of them.

Ford fell harshly on a cold, concrete floor and rubbed the base of his back; he would be feeling that later. He looked around. He was in some kind of cellar, a room in the basement for storage, possibly food in the olden days. Ford looked ahead, and highlighted with glowing red energy, was a casket with a square skull on the door. As Ford stood and braced himself, the door opened to find a smartly dressed skeleton inside.

A skull missing it’s bottom jaw glared at the old man, who was far too used to it to be too shaken, but he was on edge and ready to fight or flight; whichever would ensure he would make it out of the cellar alive. The skeleton had sharp cheekbones and jagged cracks. His skull levitated an inch above the collar of his suit, the lines sharp and smart, the lines and the tie coated in red, though the suit was black. His ribs were outside his jacket and his hands were an odd bland of glove and bone. But what was most peculiar was not the fact that a fancy-dressed skeleton was alive and glaring daggers at the meat-puppet before him. No, what conjured Ford’s curiosity was the golden heart beating on the skeleton’s right chest, like a badge of honor.

The ghost stepped out of the coffin, his heeled shoes clicking on the concrete floor, and he stopped right in front of Ford and pointed harshly at him. Ford glared back, hand in his trenchcoat, ready to shoot and by himself some time, but there was no guarantee if it would even have time for an attack.

It didn’t matter. Suddenly the pupil-less eyes of the skeleton were lit up with red pupils, red fire encased more candles, and with an upward tilt of the skulls, a red block of fire appeared on his head. Ford, as quick as light, whipped out his special ray gun, shot, and ran for the exit. The ghost dodged the bolt of cold blue light with a lazy motion of his head, and then started to fly after his target.

Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel were helping themselves to big towers of warm pancakes in the kitchen, about to dig in when they heard the commotion. They poked their heads out of the kitchen and gasped to find their uncle cornered by a big ghost, definitely a Level 10, his back to the wall and his gun pointed at the angry spirit, but the kids knew they could help.

Just before the ghost could touch Ford, the pair of kids stood in front of their grunkle, both flinching and ready for the impact, their arms outstretched to try to shield their guardian, but they opened their eyes cautiously when no attack came.

The ghost had stopped, standing a few feet in front of the tiny family. His red eyes were on the children, and appeared to be… not angry. Almost sad. Mabel took a step forward. Maybe she could help Mr. Ghost feel better so he could go back to sleep. Maybe something hurt. She could kiss it better.

Dipper was right by Mabel’s side, a hand on his chin, studying the ghost curiously, his brown eyes sparkling with wonder. Mabel grinned at the ghost and waved. “Hi, I’m Mabel!”

Instantly, the ghost seemed to smile. Kind eyes and a general aura that swore no harm. The young pair of twins noticed the golden heart floating towards them. Dipper’s mouth was open slightly, while Mabel held her hands patiently for it, waiting for the heart to land on her, rather than harshly grab it and risk frightening the kind soul.

But then Ford scooped up the kids in his arms and ran for the door, leaving the kids to look back at the skeleton and for the skeleton to reach out longingly, only for the golden heart to fall to the floor and crack, now a cold, lonely, icy blue.

At once, the ghost was engulfed in rage and fire, his arms trembling with anger, and he had his red fire swallow the entire hall, with Ford jumping out, through the door, at the last second, with his kids in his arms. He piled them into the red Diablo and thankfully the ghost was too distracted to have the car deactivate again, and they sped away into the woods.

Inside the large cabin, the skeleton watched them go through a window. He picked up the cracked blue heart, tapping it so the locket opened. Inside, a picture of Stan holding his children in his arms, smiling and laughing and having a good time, haunted him. The broken spirit could only shed a single tear as he growled to himself and floated out of the manor, causing it to fade back into its tiny, pitiful, abandoned cabin once more.

[justatiredghost]

Living for the Moment Ch19

A series of glimpses at Klaus’ life if he’d met Dave in his mid 20s. His life isn’t magically transformed, love can’t fix either of them when they’re both homeless and in a bad place. They’re not even really ready for a relationship yet. But maybe a supportive friendship can set them on a better path, the two of them inspiring each other to take care of themselves. It’s going to be a long and bumpy ride, and the question is, when will they actually admit to themselves that they have feelings for each other? Read More AO3

-

The problem with coming to a sudden stop after burning himself up the way Klaus had been lately was the loss of adrenaline. That had really been the only thing keeping him going. Well, that and the drugs. Thankfully he still had some of those in his system so the ghosts were leaving him alone, because the inevitable crash wiped him out completely. He didn’t have the strength to keep his eyes open anymore let alone enough to hunt down another contact to resupply.

There were a lot of things Dave had said that he wanted to comment on, mostly to ask what was wrong with him, but he just couldn’t right now. None of this felt real. He’d never had someone so determined to stay in his life, and all he could do was wonder how long until he came to his senses. But that was a problem for future him. As most things were. Right now, Klaus just wanted to sleep.

Not that he got much before they were both jolted awake by a car backfiring. The early commuters were likely out, so they had to leave, but Klaus felt so much worse than he had before. The exhaustion, the aches and pains, the ugly bruise welling up on the side of his face where he’d been punched, and to top it all off, he was pretty sure he had a fever.

“Hey, you okay?” Dave asked when he noticed, and of course he had to be all sweet, rubbing his back and everything.

“Oh yeah, sure, all good here,” Klaus said, trying to suppress a violent shiver at the early morning wind icy cold now that Dave wasn’t pressed up against his side.

“Shit, I didn’t give you my cold, did I?”

“What can I say? Petty theft is one of my charms,” Klaus joked, because he didn’t like how worried he looked.

“I wish I could repay the favor and find a place for you to warm up and sleep it off, but— hang on, I have an idea. Come with me?”

Dave stood and offered his hand, and Klaus considered it. He thought about trying to ditch him again, or just refusing to move. But he was too tired to be stubborn and petty, so he decided it would be easier just to go along and he let himself get pulled to his feet.

Usually, Klaus would be more nosey about this, but when Dave left him outside the shitty motel, he just stood there and waited while he went inside to talk with someone. He surprised himself, honestly. He must be really bad off. At least Dave didn’t keep him waiting long.

“Wow, you really do look like shit,” Dave said when he returned, actually able to get a good look at him now that the early morning sun was starting to make its appearance.

“Still hot though, right?” Klaus said.

“Mmm, feverish and attractive,” Dave joked. “You might be overdoing it a little, might want to tone it down a bit.”

“Have you met me?” Klaus replied.

“Well,” Dave continued, unlocking one of the motel room doors on the first floor. “The good news is, a buddy here owes me a favor. She said we can have this room, but gotta be out of here by tomorrow evening.”

“She is a saint,” Klaus said, stumbling inside after him. “I am going to take a 6 hour long bath, so if you need to pee, you better do it now.”

“No, go ahead,” Dave laughed. “I’m actually going to step out for a bit. I have some other stuff I need to take care of. But I look forward to seeing what you look like all pruny.”

Klaus waved him off with an annoyed sound. He turned on the water as hot as it would go and was ready to soak up all that warmth and wash away the grime. By the time he finally climbed out of the bath, he didn’t feel so frozen. Sure, he still felt like shit, but it was better than nothing.

-

For once, Klaus slept like a rock, so he wasn’t all that surprised when he came to, desperate for a glass of water, to discover Dave was asleep in the other bed by the door. On the way back from the bathroom with a cup, he had the sudden impulse to crawl into Dave’s bed and join him, but tried to block that out and just go back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, it was to hear the shower running. Dave was no longer in the other bed. A midnight shower wasn’t all that strange, though, so he let himself fall back to sleep. But when he woke up again a little over an hour later and the shower was still going, Dave still missing, he started to get a little worried.

Well, more curious than worried. Yes, this definitely wasn’t worry. These types of places weren’t really known for having unlimited hot water and he actually wondered if Dave had been the one to ditch him this time. Curiosity getting the better of him, he stumbled out of bed, pausing at the bathroom door to knock.

“Dave? You alive in there?” he called, but didn’t get a response. “I’m coming in. I swear I’m not doing this just to check you out naked.”

As he slowly opened the door, he noticed that there wasn’t as much steam as he thought there would be. The mirror wasn’t even fogged up. When he turned to the tub, the curtain was pulled back just enough that he could see Dave sitting there, letting the water fall over him, still wearing boxers and a t-shirt. His arms were raised as if to protect his head, fingers digging into his hair.

“Dave,” Klaus called again, concerned now.

Dave flinched as soon as he spotted him, but at least he relaxed when he realized it was just Klaus. Then, he scrambled to turn the water off before sitting back, out of breath and just trying to regain his bearings.

“Hi,” Dave said guiltily. Then, he looked down at himself and sighed heavily, picking at the way his shirt stuck to him uncomfortably. “Aw, man. We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Would it help if I also got in with my clothes on?” Klaus offered.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dave sighed, not completely able to stop himself from smiling despite everything.

“Your loss,” Klaus said with a shrug. “I’m not exactly one to judge, I was in here for a criminally long time earlier, but typically I don’t think showers are supposed to last very long. I’m surprised you haven’t run out of hot water.”

“Ah,” Dave said, looking away. “I think I may have, actually.”

“May have what?”

“Run out of hot water,” Dave said, and as if to prove his point, a particularly violent shiver ran through him.

“What the hell?” Klaus said. “You should probably get out of there. Only one of us is allowed to be sick at a time, and I already called dibs.”

He passed Dave a towel as he clambered out of the tub. Then, he left him so he could have a little privacy to change while Klaus wandered around the room in search of any extra blankets stashed away. Dave was already back in his bed when he returned, so he unceremoniously dropped his spoils on top of him before selecting one to unravel sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I swear I don’t take all my showers clothed,” Dave said, forcing a chuckle as he followed suit, no doubt trying to lighten the mood.

“Hey, whatever does it for you,” Klaus shrugged, and Dave smacked him playfully with one of the folded blankets.

“I really am sorry about all this,” Dave groaned after they finished with their work, burrowing deeper into the pile of blankets, still shivering.

“What, hogging all the blankets? I guess I can forgive you.”

“Well, yeah, I guess there’s that now, too,” Dave chuckled. “But I more meant, just, all of this-- my little breakdown. It doesn’t happen as often as it used to, but I still get flashbacks and nightmares sometimes. Showers help, they can kinda ground me I guess, this one was just particularly bad, I guess.”

“Oh,” Klaus said dumbly, not really sure what to do with all that openness. Except run, but he’d already tried that and failed.

This all hit a little too close to home; the nightmares and the flashbacks, the whispered confessions in a moment of vulnerability. In Klaus’ experience, it never went well. He knew Dave was just like this, so much more open than Klaus could ever imagine being, but it still sent a chill through him.

As irrational as it was, he didn’t want Dave to learn the same way he had. At least Klaus didn’t have any plans to betray him, so he might as well encourage him to let it all out now.

“Do you, like, what to talk about it or something?” he said uncertainly. “I heard it’s supposed to help. I mean, I know that’s rich, coming from me of all people.”

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid,” Dave said quickly, waving a hand dismissively. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“Okay, well, now you have to tell me,” Klaus said, climbing onto the bed so he was laying on his stomach, leaning on his elbows, head in his hands.

“I, uh, went to talk to someone today,” Dave said slowly. “About getting support. For vets.”

“That’s good, right?” Klaus said, trying to be encouraging.

“I guess,” he said, eyes sliding to the side, avoiding Klaus’ gaze. “It’s just frustrating, it feels like admitting defeat. But I can’t even hold down a job, something’s gotta change.”

“That’s the spirit?” Klaus said uncertainly. It wasn’t like self-improvement was his specialty. But he could definitely understand the guilt that went with asking for help. Which is why he never did.

“Unfortunately, it’s bringing up a few too many memories. And, when I’m stressed, I have nightmares, so that doesn’t help,” Dave added lamely, trying to laugh a little.

“There, there,” Klaus said, sitting up so he could reach out and pat his shoulder. Taken by surprise, Dave burst out laughing and Klaus couldn’t help but grin, pleased he could still make him laugh, even when he was upset. “If it helps, wearing clothes in the shower is nowhere near the top 10 weirdest things I’ve found people doing in the bathroom,” Klaus said unhelpfully.

“Still,” Dave said, before changing the subject. “But enough about me, how are you feeling? Sorry again for giving you my cold.”

“I might learn to forgive you one day,” Klaus said dramatically, hand on his forehead.

“Hey,” Dave said. “I was thinking, and I realized that I just kinda made you come with me here, sorry about that, too.”

“Yes,” Klaus said, again playing it up. “How dare you force me to sleep in a proper bed for a change?”

“You know what I mean,” Dave said with a weak smile. But then his voice turned serious. “I know I was probably a bit too much before, probably creepy too, tracking you down like that. I just want you to know that, if you really don’t want to be here, I’d understand.”

“What’s the matter, starting to have second thoughts?” Klaus asked. “I am a handful. Being friends with me is gonna be a nightmare”

“Seriously,” Dave persisted. “How about we meet up in a few days and talk it out? I’ll have at least a few more answers once the VA get back to me. I know everything feels impossible right now, but being your friend is worth it, to me. But if all of this has put you off, then feel free to make a break for it. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Sure,” Klaus said distractedly.

Dave nodded and turned away, pulling the blankets up nearly over his head.

Klaus had never been told he was worth it before. He’s never been worth anything and he didn’t know how to feel about all of this. He thought he could feel something melting in his core, a warmth reaching him that he never expected to feel. But there was guilt, too. So much guilt.

How was this even happening? Dave was a pretty smart guy, but he just seemed to be ignoring all the warning signs. Maybe Klaus had tricked him into this somehow. He was very good at manipulating people. But, for some reason, Dave kept coming back, there was no denying that. He wanted to trust him, to believe in Dave even if he couldn’t believe in himself, but he knew how dangerous that was.

Klaus felt cold, again, when he went back to his own bed, moving automatically. Mostly he just felt numb, completely drained. And he was more lost than ever. Maybe he was just too sober, maybe drugs would wipe it all away and remind him who he was. Or, maybe it wouldn’t, and he’d wake up one day and hate himself, wondering what would have been.

Hating himself wasn’t anything new, but when he glanced over his shoulder to see Dave’s curly hair sticking out between blanket and pillow, he so desperately wanted to give hope a try.

[ghostsray]

danny grows baby fangs

truce gift for @phantomofprocrastination!! happy new decade :)

word count: 3,080

____

Being friends with a rival ghost has its pros and cons. The pros are that Danny can call on them whenever he needs help fighting a bigger, badder ghost. The cons are that this does nothing to stop his ally from attacking him whenever they like.

He was awoken in the dead of night (pun intended) by his ghost sense escaping his throat. He quickly transformed and flew outside, preparing to fight a ghost wreaking havoc. Instead, he was met by Johnny, who asked for a spar.

Danny sighed and ran a hand across his face. "Really? You couldn't have picked a better time for this?"

"Of course not!" Johnny delightfully replied. "All the humans are asleep, so you don't have to worry about hurting any of them."

That was...surprisingly thoughtful. Still didn't make it any less annoying. Danny fixed him with a glare and said, "Johnny. I'm half human. I also need to sleep."

The ghost's eyes widened, and his mouth formed a circle. "Oh."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Can you go back to the GZ so I can get back to bed?"

Unfortunately, he already knew the answer he would receive when Johnny's face twisted into a wicked smirk. "But you're already here, aren't you? And I do have some energy I need to let out..."

"Dude, I swear..."

Danny didn't have time to finish his threat because the biker ghost was already sending his shadow to attack him. Inwardly, Danny groaned. Here he thought that he was making good progress this year in befriending his previous enemies, but it turns out they're too trained in Hating Danny On Sight to fully stop torturing him.

Danny blocked another swing from the shadow. He formed a ball of ectoplasm in his hands and used its light to fend the phantom off. As he watched it retreat, he bared his teeth at Johnny with a growl, trying to convey clearly that he wasn't happy.

For some reason, Johnny had the opposite reaction. He held up a hand to hold his shadow back and stared at Danny. "Wait, do that again," he said.

Danny frowned, confused. "Do what?"

"Bare your teeth."

Danny was Hella Confused, but he did as he was asked. Johnny clapped his hands and laughed.

"You're growing baby fangs!"

"...What."

The older ghost got closer until he was floating right in front of Danny's face. He pointed at the halfa's mouth, and his face adopted the kind of expression Jazz would make if she saw a baby animal. "Right there," the ghost said with a smile, "the cutest, widdwest baby fa--"

All of a sudden, a light enveloped Johnny, and he looked down to see the halfa sucking him into a Fenton thermos. "Hey! Not fair!" he whined, his voice shrinking as he went in.

"Sorry, but you deserved it," Danny spoke into the cylinder before he closed it.

He sunk from his spot in the air until his boots touched the ground. As soon as he did, he thought about what Johnny said. Now that he noticed, his gums were hurting. When he touched them with his tongue, he felt something sharp growing among his teeth. What did Johnny say? Fangs?

Danny looked at the building sitting across from his home. The lights indoors were all turned off, and the windows perfectly reflected the street and Danny on it. Danny let himself hover an inch off the ground and floated toward the glass. Once he got close enough, he studied his reflection.

Over the years, his ghost form had changed into something a bit more...ghostly. Before, the only parts of his appearance that changed were his eye and hair colors. Now, his hair became wispy, his skin grew tinted green, and even the freckles that had long ago faded from his human skin now literally glowed in ghost form.

Danny ignored these details. (He especially ignored how uncomfortable he felt seeing himself look less and less human.) Instead, he opened his mouth and focused on the trait Johnny pointed out to him.

Sure enough, two small, white points were growing from where his canine teeth should be. Danny stared. Were those really going to grow into fangs? Honestly, he's not sure why he was surprised. Pretty much every ghost he knew had fangs. Even Vlad did, and he's a halfa too.

He grinned at his reflection, and the reflection grinned back, showing off his brand new pair of fangs. Danny tried to imagine what the would look like on him once they grow, replacing the small points with something longer and sharper.

This was a mistake.

Suddenly the image before him seemed eerily familiar. Wispy hair, almost like fire. Greenish skin bordering on teal. Growing muscles underneath his jumpsuit. And fangs.

The grin was gone from Danny's face, but the reflection still smiled. Since when had its eyes turned red?

Danny took a shaky step back.

It was him.

The thermos slipped from his hands with a clunk. He gulped.

He was turning into him.

Fire entered Danny's nose. Fire, and the smell of burning flesh. He whipped around, eyes out of focus. The Nasty Burger. It was gone. The flames licked the sky and danced on where the building once stood.

His family. His friends. He couldn't save them.

"No," he softly said, as if that could erase the scene before him.

He dropped onto his knees on the pavement. The smoke stung his eyes and filled his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

"No," he repeated, gasping and gripping onto his hairs. "No, no, no."

His eyes fell on the thermos next to him. The metal surface reflected Danny's face, but it wasn't the face he saw in the mirror yesterday. It was his face from tomorrow. Red eyes, wispy hair, and grinning at him with long, sharp fangs.

An ecto-blast shot past his ear, jolting Danny back to reality. He looked up, his eyes finally focusing on someone standing over him...someone wearing a teal jumpsuit and red goggles...his mom?

But he saw her die, didn't he? There was the explosion, and...and she was blasted apart like everyone else...and then...oh, right.

It felt like he was finally waking up. The air around him was clear. He wasn't in front of the Nasty Burger, he was in front of his own house. And even if he was there, the restaurant would still be standing. The explosion never happened. Clockwork erased that timeline.

His family was still alive. Maddie was still alive.

A fact that helpfully made itself apparent by the gun she was pointing at him.

"Why are you doing that?" his mother asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Doing what?" he replied.

"Pretending to cry."

Danny touched his cheeks. Was he really crying? Sure enough, his gloves came back wet.

"Answer me, phantom," Maddie's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and bitter.

Danny let his hands fall onto his lap and gulped. "I'm not pretending."

"Of course you are," Maddie stated matter-of-factly. "Ghosts can't shed genuine tears. After all, it's not like they can feel--"

"Yes, they can," Danny suddenly snapped. "They feel! All they do is feel! That's why they're aggressive. Not because they lack emotion, but because they're created from it! Not that it matters to you, since you never listen to what I say."

Maddie's jaw dropped. As soon as the words left Danny's mouth, he knew it was out of character for him. Phantom was a smooth ghost who only spoke to tell bad puns and mock his enemies. He never snapped at anyone like that. A part of him felt ashamed for yelling at his mother, but he wasn't in the mood to feel guilty about it.

He averted his eyes and wiped at his tears. Man, he must have looked pathetic. Why was Maddie even out here? Of course, he had forgotten that his parents had almost as little sleep as he did. She was probably pulling an all-nighter working on some new invention to kill him when she noticed the ghost having a breakdown outside their house.

Danny tried to ignore the embarrassment he felt and pushed himself to his feet. If Maddie noticed the way he shook as he pulled himself up, she didn't comment on it. He took a deep breath. The smell of fire still lingered in his nose.

"Never mind," he said, not looking at her as he spoke. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight." He turned away and prepared to take flight, but a hand suddenly gripped at his wrist, and he turned back to see Maddie holding on to him.

"Wait," she said. After a moment of hesitation, she let go and...lowered her gun? "Let's assume I believe what you said, about ghosts feeling emotion. Why are you crying?"

Danny had to assure himself that he wasn't dreaming. Talking and not shooting? That was new. He must have stared at her for a long time in surprise, because she frowned and urged, "Well?"

He blinked and looked down. "It's nothing."

"So you are faking?"

"What? No!"

"Then what is it?"

He bit his lip. How could he even begin to explain it? Hey, no biggie, but I sort of saw an alternate timeline where I went evil and killed you, which happened a long time ago but apparently I'm not as over it as I thought. Yeah, no. Instead, he asked, "Why do you care?"

He looked up and saw something soften in her face. Her brows knitted, but in an I'm-willing-to-hear-you kind of way, just like the days in his childhood when she sat next to him in bed, ready to soothe him as he woke up crying from another nightmare. It made him meet her eyes, forgetting for just a moment that they were supposed to be enemies. She was not Maddie the ghosthunter, but Mom.

Then the illusion broke when she said, "With how much power you have, it is my duty as a ghosthunter to make sure you dont step out of line. Anything that would cause you to act differently from usual should concern me."

His chest crumpled. Of course she didn't care, and why would she? He was a ghost. This was nothing more than another duty for her as a ghosthunter.

He tried not to show his disappointment, but it must have shown anyway because Maddie asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he lied. "Of course not."

She sighed. "Of course not." She crossed her arms and turned away, then muttered under her breath, "I don't know why I thought I could help a ghost. I can't even help my own children."

Danny guessed he wasn't meant to hear that last part, but he did. He stared at her incredulously and asked, "What?"

She stiffened, then quickly said, "Nothing. I don't need to tell you about my family life."

He took one step toward her, then immediately took a step back when she aimed her gun on him. Right, he forgot she didn't holster that.

"I mean it," she warned. "This isn't about me."

He stumbled and fell onto the pavement. Maddie stood over him, still aiming her weapon at him. Were they not just having a moment? Obviously not. Maddie Fenton was never one to have moments with a ghost.

"Really, quit breathing. I know you don't need to do that."

Danny only then noticed how hard his chest was rising and falling. He gulped. "I can't keep doing this," he suddenly spoke.

The hand holding the gun faltered. "Doing what?"

His eyes stung, but he held back his tears because he knew she would tell him he was faking again, and he didn't want that to happen. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the red goggles that covered hers and said, "Fighting you, being your enemy, until the day you die."

Maddie remained calm as she said, "You're a ghost. I'm a ghosthunter."

"That doesn't mean we have to fight." He gestured between them and added, "I mean, we were just having a conversation. At least until you pulled out your gun again."

"Is that why you brought me out here?"

"I didn't. You came on your own."

"You were acting strange," she replied. "You still didn't answer why."

His core thrummed against his chest as he continued to stare into her gun. Why are you crying? Because he's still scared of becoming his evil self. Because he doesn't want to hurt his family. Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw their scorched remains, and he doesn't want to be the person to cause that to happen.

"I don't want to be a bad ghost," he answered.

Maddie tilted her head. "That can't be it," she spoke in her snobby scientist voice. "Ghosts dont have a sense of right and wrong--"

"Would you stop making assumptions about ghost morals? I'm the ghost here, not you."

That was the second time he snapped at her. He tore his eyes away from her, instead choosing to glare at the street. Maddie was quiet. "...You're serious," she finally said.

"Yeah, no shit."

She lowered her gun...just slightly. "That still doesn't explain things," she said. "Why the sudden reaction? The tears?"

His eyes landed on the thermos that lay a few feet away, reflecting his green skin and wispy hair and glowing eyes on its surface. His gums hurt.

Danny shut his eyes and gulped back bile. "I...I did something bad, okay?" he said, his voice small. "I thought I could forget about it, but I can't. I--I don't want it to happen again."

A moment of silence hung between them, broken only by the soft whistle of the breeze. He hoped she wouldn't ask, but he knew the question was coming anyway. "What did you do?"

His hands shook. He gripped them into fists, but that did nothing to ebb his emotions.

"Phantom," Maddie urged. "What did--"

"I killed people!" The tears escaped his eyes, which opened to reveal toxic green irises that shone brighter than the streetlights. He faced Maddie, his expression contorted in guilt and pain and Ancients why do his gums still hurt as he cried, "I killed people. They died, and it was because of me. I killed them."

He waited for her to get angry at him, to shoot him. Instead, she gave him a reaction he didn't expect.

"Now I know you're faking," she said, lowering her gun completely.

He blinked away his tears. "What?"

"Feeling guilt over someone's death? Ghosts can't care about that." She held up a hand and continued, "Before you argue again about whether ghosts have morals or not, I'm talking about the concept of life and death. You're dead, so you shouldn't be able to bother over whether others are, too."

Danny sat back and let those words sink in. Was that why his alternate self had seemed so heartless? He had removed his humanity, and along with it, any sympathy he had left toward life. If Danny had fully died in that portal, would he...?

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. "But I don't want others to suffer the same fate I did," he argued.

"That's not what other ghosts seem to think," Maddie pointed out. "Even if your obsession was saving others, it should be easy for you to get over a few deaths after some time has passed. It simply doesn't make sense for you to care." She crouched until she was at eye level with him and inquired, "So tell me, Phantom. What makes you so different?"

"...I don't know." What else could he say without revealing his secret? He truthfully told her, "I never asked to be this way."

She scrutinized him, as if looking at him could somehow reveal the truth. After a while, she sighed and stood up...and holstered her gun.

"I can never understand you," she said. "You're just...so human. Your emotions, your thinking, your morals, even your appearance."

He perked up. "You think I look human?"

She looked at him as if he just said the dumbest thing on the planet. "Of course you do," she answered. "Even if you've changed since your first appearance, the change isn't nearly as much as it should be for such an increase in power as yours. Other ghosts your power level would look much more monstrous. But not you. You may grow claws and fangs, but you can still pass as a person."

Danny was dumbfounded. Here he was worried that he might be losing his humanity, and now he was proven wrong by none other than one of the world's leading ghost researchers, his own mother. He thought that was as much relief as he could feel, and then she said,

"You're not a bad ghost, Phantom."

He bit the insides of his mouth to keep himself from crying again because dammit he's already cried enough times this night already. Instead, he blurted out the thing that was on his mind in that moment, which was, "You're not a bad mom."

Mom faltered. For a second, Danny worried that he screwed up. He should not have said that, now she's going to try shooting him again and then everything that just happened would be a waste... But she didn't do that. He couldn't read her face well from underneath her mask, but something crossed her face. She observed him silently, and he squirmed, wondering what she saw. She opened her mouth to say something, but then changed her mind and turned away without a word, leaving the halfa behind as she went back indoors.

Danny sat in the middle of the empty street, watching his mom leave. What just happened? He wasn't sure, but Mom just left without leaving him an injury, which he didn't think could be possible. The world lit up around him as the sun rose from the east.

Shit, he had to return home before someone could walk into his room and find it empty. He fumbled around until he caught the thermos, then paused to look at his reflection. He saw...himself. No evil alternate self. No monster from the future. Just Danny Phantom, existing in the present.

He grinned, showing off his brand new pair of fangs.

Now that he thought about it, having fangs sounds pretty cool.

[psychemeanscure]

PART 13{ A part with a one whole of Jang Taeyoung. Yayks! Enjoy reading y’all~}

“Good day, Mr. Jang.”

“What’s good in a day when I can only see your ugly face Mr. Kim.”

The prosecutor groan in defeat indeed. It was his third day to be summoned on interrogation and as usual had to deal with the annoying interrogator who just only getting on his nerves every time with its lame question which even too obvious to be needed explanation. Thus with a bored breath he insults. “Can we just start your uninteresting play so I can go in peace, Mr. disloyal prosecutor?”

But seems like the latter got used to it already that he only got a smirking shaking of head instead of its irritated retractions that usually leads him to face its attacking hand who can’t even push through because of his threatening defense from the one-way tinted mirror, voice connecting to an in-charge officer behind it.

“Oh no, no, no. You would rather not do insults until today Mr. Jang, especially now that a solid headache will get you busy for the time being.”  

A different counter he heard from the prosecutor somehow. ‘What lame evidences this disloyal dog has to bark again?’ as a simple thought slip into its mind but not too long to laze him later. “Oh yeah? Let me see then, Mr. Prosecutor.” Thus the latter starts then.

And before Mr. Kim could finish his set of litany?

He was already laughing tremendously. He never gone wrong of his instincts with the Prosecutor indeed. “What the hell! That’s it, Mr. Prosecutor? The last time was because of a certain connection from a gang syndicate who’s no longer existed, and now about an old news of SIESTA drug which people involved was long gone? Come on sir, don’t you have more to give to excite me other than this? I’m getting sleepy already.”

Piercing eyes starts to bore from the prosecutor as it only takes a second for a shift of expression. Dropping the document, it holds with vigor. “Okay. Since none of this wavered you still Mr. fearless guy. I might just share the last card instead. Are you ready?”

It caught his interest indeed as a twitched brows came after him. “And what is that, Mr. Kim?”                  

Thus its clasping hands initially rest on the table after purposely turning off the button for voice over, facing him with confident arrogance. “Zilo Alcaziar. I’m sure it rang your bell, pretty isn’t it?”

His thoughts say it is, yes. He was not surprise either since he knew she’s obviously the one who tip it off, so he only waited sternly in silence to his proceeding sentences. “Son of the greatest gambler Veeros Alcaziar who’s apparently became your business partner. A treacherous partnership or shall we say, with Sung Eunyoung?”

A flick of his brows came in then as he leans a little forward as if to make sure he wasn’t ghost out by his own instinct. “Come again, Mr. Prosecutor?”

Something’s off and he can feel it. From the mere mention of her name he knew there is. If he’s truly working for her, he would rather not involve her name in any means. Unless...  

“Who told you that?”

His cold words right then only to be responded by a success laugh from the prosecutor as it leans as well enough to create a whisper to his face. “Sung Eunyoung. Who else would it be? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Poor you Mr. Jang. I tell you, she’s one hell of a b*---“

“I’m asking, who told you filthy dog?”

 The latter has been dragged closer onto him definitely as he forcefully grabs its necktie. Nevertheless, its confidence still unbothered by his actions. “Why? You cannot believe it? You’ve been accustomed to her? Oh my, you shouldn’t have trusted her too much Mr. Jang. Look what happened to you. Seems like she became your weakness as well.”

It even starts to tap his shoulder following another words that may surely stirred him. “Let me give you an advice, Mr. Jang Taeyoung.” Its first word which he intended to halt after a closer lean by his ear. “If you go on a hunt down, it’s always the other as the best option.”

And he confirmed it. Finally, as he grips its necktie tight enough for choking, earning a panic grant he expected. Burning eyes fixated to the stubborn dog, gritted teeth resurfaced. He speaks. “I might be reckless in some way but I’m not stupid enough to understand that, moron. Now if you don’t want to die right here right now, then better answer my f*cking question. Eh?”

The prosecutor was struggling, no doubt. Unfortunately for him, his assaulted angle isn’t obvious to the officer in-charge’s CCTV monitor that it looks like he was the one dominantly threatening him, given its bending body block Jang Taeyoung’s move and the voice over button he turn off under the table. “A-ahck. Wa-it. Mr.—Ja-ng. A-ahck.” Had no choice but plead to him. But Jang wouldn’t dare. Why would he? Instead, he chokes him much tighter. With surrendering tap with his gripping hands, it gives in.

“A-alca-ziar. V-vee-ros A-alca-ziar.”

It only takes a second then before he let go. Hearing the gasping sound of Mr. Kim who is still trying to catch his own breath the moment it sits back to its chair. “See? It’s easy Mr. Prosecutor. Now tell me more.”

“W-why should I?” still half catching air prosecutor that only made him decide for another assault. “Why? So you would not be getting more like this?”

“A-Argh!”

Earning another grunt as he vigorously steps on its shoe under the table indeed. “F*ck! Fine. Fine, alright.”

So the rest follows as one thing’s for sure.

This game they were playing is one hell of a dangerous pit ride.

~  

*Beep*

“Bullsh*t! Screw you, woman. Tss. Whatever. Why am I concerning you though? You even expose me anyway. Ugh. F*ck off!”  

Tossing his phone with irritation by a nearby couch from her unanswered calls as he glances his own portrait which she also saw last time. Passing his own banters on it as if it was a different person to scold that he even points a finger with assertion. “This is what I’m telling you sucker. On so why? Why did you have to get sti--- F*ck! The hell will I admit either.”

He shifts into firmly punching its side wall when he decided to stand up, appearing like a strict lecturer. “This is all because of you, woman! You, Sung Eunyoung. I swear you’re going to p—sh*t! why can’t I even cursed you! See, Jang Taeyoung? You’re in fault here. F*ck!”

His proceeding soliloquy indeed for he can’t help but to clench a jaw out of frustration as he moved by the glass window. And with a hard slam of palm on it and a following voice of his assistant, he’s obviously pissed.

“What?!”

The deafening reply he did that made the latter being surprised yet only takes a second to regain composure. “Zilo Alcaziar is in the VIP lobby, Boss.”

Its simple word which gives him a scorching deep breath as well. Cursing another headache, he needed to deal with. Thus he responded a piercing nod to his assistant before leaving him again.

~

“Brother!”

The thrilled greeting from Zilo which only came back from entertaining itself to talking with female receptionist by the counter. Unbothered by his impatient glare trailing its every move till occupying a seat across him. “I was informed that you’ve been waiting on the lobby only to find out you’re actually lurking for bitches instead? Tss. You are wasting my time then.”  

“Oh come on brother. As if you didn’t miss it either. Like hey, you’re a single man again. Right? Unless you can’t move on with sister. I bet you do.”

A frown came to him then. Groaning with irritation. “Can you just shut up, or am I going to pull your tongue in a second. Why are you here anyway?”  

His straight banter just to be responded by a nonchalant behavior of the other as it even leans comfortably with the seat it occupied. “What do you think?”

“And what is that?”

“Tss. Of course brother, I’m here to continue as your ally.”

Thus a silence came after. He was halt by the thought, yes but not long enough to give the young Alcaziar a stern look. “I’m not in the mood for joking Zilo.” His threatening words then just to be responded by its shaking of head. “Brother I know you’re tempted, don’t deny. Besides, watching your situation right now I’m the only one you’ve got. Punch me if it isn’t true, eh?”

Truth. He’s the only one he got. He’s been calling the investors of the Casino Hotel, trying to convince at least half of them to side him and obviously got declined. Majority of them aren’t even answering. Hell that Sung Eunyoung’s power, who else can he control when she already got them all. Dammit!

“What makes you decide otherwise then, brother?”

“Because as you said, I’m fighting against my father and I truly am. So why not give it a try. I’m getting bored anyway. Father with sister and you with me. Isn’t it glamorous? We’re fighting each other’s past comrade. I can actually imagine the results. Wohoo.”

Zillo was even whistling while gesturing a blow like a bomb on his hand, arrogantly gullible of his own idea. Right there for some reason, the prosecutor’s advice pop into his ears. ‘Guess the disloyal dog makes sense after all.’

His thoughts finally decided. He’s considering the challenge indeed that for the last time after their talk ended, she called her once again yet for the nth time she remains unanswered. If it this what they call war, then war it is.

“Let the best venturer win, Sung Eunyoung.”

[hvlfwygod]

aquaman | griffin, zoey & reid

summary: does anyone even knock anymore? tw: teen angst

Griffin was on Zoey's couch, and Aquaman was playing on her TV, but he wasn't watching. Instead, he was angled toward Zoey, awkwardly leaning, kissing her. They'd started without really discussing it, and he hadn't had the time to adjust his position in a way that was more comfortable or even remotely cool. But he didn't really want to stop for long enough to shift, so he just dealt with the weird angle and the quiet protest in his back.

It was like this every time he came over now. No, they never talked about it, but it was more an unspoken rule at this point. They start movie, or a TV show, or maybe a game. It didn't really matter, because whatever they did they hardly ever finished. (He could still feel the ghost indents of the Battleship pieces pressed into his hand when they started making out before clearing it away.) At least the couch was soft and his shoes were off so he could, if he wanted, tuck his legs up and make himself more comfortable and— did he always think this much while he was kissing her? He could never remember, everything always blanketed out into white noise by this point. Griffin pulled back for a breath, and he quickly rolled his shoulders as he pressed into her lips again.

Zoey was in an apparently more comfortable position than Griffin, not at all bothered by the explosions in the background. She was always tempted to turn off the movies or shows that they had running, since it was pretty obvious that neither of them were actually interested in watching them, but the idea of kissing in silence was weird, and she wasn’t quite desperate enough yet to make a make out playlist.

She ran her fingers through his hair before she snuck them under the hem of his shirt at the back of his neck, and felt satisfaction curl in her stomach at the contact. How lame. She moved unconsciously towards him as he pulled away, felt dumb, and made a small, pleased sound as he kissed her again. She hoped that Griffin would react to it positively instead of making fun of her; something he hadn’t done yet but something Zoey feared any time she gave him opportunity.

“Ten minutes is enough of a heads up, right?” Reid didn’t wait for an answer, not like they’d get one from Koa anyway. The enormous dog just kept chewing on one of his toys. They grabbed the boxes of hair dye on the kitchen counter and checked their hair in the mirror, admiring Devin’s 2am handiwork. Taking a few steps, Reid reached the kitchen door, checked their phone one last time, and disappeared.

It was dark. And fuzzy. “Which way is the— fuck. Where’s the door?” Reid grumbled, pushing past clothing until they bumped their shoulder into the closet door.

He made a small, pleased sound in return to Zoey’s, his own hand moving tentatively from her thigh to the small of her back. He paused there, trying to decide without pulling away where his line was. He liked it when she splayed her fingers along his neck, so maybe she would, too… But before he could continue, he heard something. Maybe he was imagining it, but Griffin heard the faintest thump from… somewhere. Further in the apartment? Reluctantly he pulled back, just long enough to ask, “Did you hear…?” But he didn’t wait for an answer before he was kissing her again.

Zoey moved closer at Griffin’s touch. Maybe one day she’d tell him about how much she wanted to bottle up the sound that he just made, but any opportunity she’d had was never taken. If she ever said that out loud, it would be so embarrassing that she’d combust on the spot. She looked at him through a heavy lidded gaze when he spoke, and realized that she made a mistake immediately. He was gorgeous and she wanted to make him pay for it. Too focused on the task at hand to process his question or any distant sounds, she moved her hand to his jaw, and pulled away this time to kiss Griffin’s neck.

A pair of Zoey’s sunglasses sat askew atop Reid’s head as they burst into the common area. They threw out their arms, calling to their best friend. “Honey, I’m hooo—“ Zoey was on the couch, tangled up with— “-ly SHIT. Griffin?” Reid’s hands flew up to block out the euphoric expression on Griffin’s face before it was burned into their retinas. “MY EYES!” They wailed, turning away from the couch.

He knew he heard something. As soon as he was recovering from the near-euphoria of Zoey’s kiss against his neck, he heard an ungodly yell. The first thing he did was scowl. Something that piercing and grating didn’t belong in this moment. And then, his mind caught up with him and he leaned backwards, but not by much. The scowl remained, and he glared at Reid, hoping they felt it through their hand. “Dude!”

It was a lot to process at once. The yelling began once her lips met Griffin’s skin, and in a moment of panic, she pulled away. And then Zoey realized that it was not Griffin yelling but her teleporting best friend. Better? Not by much. She felt the heat rising up from her chest all the way to the top of her head. For a single, horrible moment, she was afraid that she might cry in front of Reid and Griffin. Instead, she pressed her hand to her forehead and laughed.

One arm over their face, vision obscured, Reid turned back around. “Dude? Dude!” They did their best to jab a finger in Griffin’s direction, but completely missed the mark, pointing a few inches too far to the right. “What are you doing?! Zed, blink twice if you need help.”

"Oh my gods," Griffin grumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He just wanted to go back to kissing, but Reid of course had to ruin everything. Zoey's laughter only grated him further, and he felt his whole body getting way too warm. "She doesn't need— can you leave?" Griffin crossed his arms over his chest.

Zoey sucked in a short breath before laughing again, Reid’s appearance and continued reaction getting the better of her. She finally contained herself, rubbed the space between her eyes, and sighed. “Can we, like,” She wasn’t really sure which one she was speaking to or where she was going with the sentence, but she felt pretty swindled by the fact that she didn’t get the teleportation powers that her friends did, because then this wouldn’t be a problem for her anymore. “Let’s just– look, let’s,” she kept expecting the rest of the sentence to fill itself in. She groaned and pressed her fingers into the space below her eyes. “Can we just, like, Reid, can you give me like, ten minutes?”

“Can you leave?” Reid countered, crossing their arms. Eyes still screwed shut, they turned in the direction of Zoey’s voice. “I gave you ten minutes already.” Their voice sounded whiny, even to their ears, and Reid scrunched their nose in distaste. “Didn’t you get my text? I thought we were doing my hair. Is that still, like, on the table?” They tried to point at Griffin again but this time their aim was a few inches too high. “Or did you knock it off the table while you were eating each other’s faces off?” Reid shuddered dramatically.

The heat spread and got more intense, not only because of Reid, but also because it seemed to him that Zoey was planning to blow him off. He wasn't sure if he felt hurt or annoyed more. His jaw clenched and unclenched as something loud crashed on the TV screen. "I got here first," he grumbled." And then, louder: You texted her and she didn't answer and you came anyway?" The acid was clear in his tone. "Who does that?"

“The one fucking time I’m not on my phone,” Zoey huffed. She’d picked up a nearby pillow and was running her hands over it. “Dude, you can open your eyes, we’re literally just sitting here.” She turned the pillow and ran her hands in a different direction. They hadn’t set a specific time for hair coloring, and she didn’t think that it would end up a problem. She was going to request that they push it back a few hours, but frowned as Griffin spoke. “Woah, dude, chill out.”

Reid twitched slightly at the sound from the TV. A scowl passed over their face. Opening one eye, they squinted at Griffin. “I got here first.” Mimicry was not Reid’s strong suit but it was clear that they were poking fun at Griffin. “Yikes, did you really say that?”  They had been about to offer to give the couple (ew)  some space for a few minutes but the way Griffin was talking to them frayed on Reid’s nerves.  It felt good to have Zoey back them up— even if she had been sucking face with Griffin, at least she wasn’t blind to the fact that he could be a dick. There was another loud sound from the TV and Reid finally opened their other eye, face turned towards the screen. They jabbed a finger in its direction, taking the excuse to turn away from the couch. “You made Aquaman witness that too? Eugh. A crime.”

"What?" Griffin looked to Zoey this time, his nostrils flaring as she turned on him, too. Hurt flashed across his features, but then he just looked annoyed yet again. "Are you actually—" He didn't know how to continue without turning this into even more of a disaster, so his mouth just hung open while Reid continued, pointing now to the TV screen. Eventually he pressed his lips together, then grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. "Happy?" He tossed the remote back on the table then sank into the couch, his head dropping into the back cushion. "Didn't realize this was so..." That, too, he didn't know how to finish, so he didn't.

Zoey glared back at Griffin. “You can’t–“ But her jaw twitched as Reid continued, and the background noise and distraction was cut. She made a disgruntled sound and threw the pillow across the room, vaguely in Reid’s direction, but there wasn’t enough force to actually pose a threat of hitting anything but their ankles. “Stop acting like you don’t walk in on Devin and her fucking pick me boyfriend doing way worse. At least this is my place. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want in front of Aquaman.”

Reid raised their eyebrows slightly at Griffin, the room feeling too quiet now without the buzz of the movie in the background. "Son of a shit," they muttered, not caring if he heard them. The pillow Zoey had thrown collided with one of Reid's ratty Converse and settled limply on the floor. "Ow," they deadpanned, looking over at her. Immediately their face screwed up in an expression of disgust. "Don't remind— Yuck. Okay, yeah, and it's awful every time. I have to ask Logan if he can wipe my memory like he's one of the Men in Black but he hasn't yet." They shrugged, jamming their hands into the pockets of their jacket. It would be easier to leave, since their dramatic reaction had been less funny than Reid had thought it would be. But leaving meant that Griffin was getting what he wanted so they stayed where they stood, waiting to see if Zoey would ask them to go again.

His jaw clenched again at the mention of Eli, and he sat up again, this time glaring at Zoey. "Dude. If I can't talk back to Reid when they're the one who walked in on us, then you, neither of you," he swung his angry stare to Reid and then back to Zoey, "can talk shit about my friend." He didn't want to be the one to leave, but the longer he sat here, the less he wanted to stick around. "I think I should go," he grumbled, but still he didn't rise from his seat.

Griffin had a fair point, Zoey guessed, but she was too angry about the situation to admit that. Her eyes burned as she watched him. She didn’t want him to leave, but the fact that he hadn’t actually moved to do so riled her up until she was the first one to stand. “Cool, take your time thinking about it.” She walked around the back of the couch so that she wouldn’t have to pass Griffin on the way to her bedroom, and kept her gaze on the door so that she didn’t glare at Reid as she passed them. “Just–“ She opened and closed her mouth but just made an exasperated sound as she slipped into her room and slammed the door behind her.

The desire to say 'yeah, maybe you should' was so strong, Reid had to turn away to avoid making the situation worse. They closed their eyes, tilting their face upwards as they inhaled through their nose. Zoey's retreating footsteps were expected, as was the following slam of the door. The look they cut in Griffin's direction was icy. It's message was clear: look what you did. Reid took a few steps down the hall, their voice drifting through the cabin as they knocked on Zoey's door. "Zed?" It would be easier to use their powers and pop into the room but, with the way the day was going, Reid decided against it. "Zed, you dramatic ass Leo. Come back out here, this is your house."

Griffin felt the slam of Zoey’s door through his whole body. He stood as soon as she was gone, all the pent up energy escaping through his limbs as he stalked around, picking up his things. He sneered at Reid once he noticed their accusatory look. “This is all your fault,” he sniped, returning the blame right back to them. And even though they were already walking away, he continued, speaking to their back. Somehow he seemed to be getting even angrier with every word he spoke. “Thanks for always making my life a little worse. You suck.” He ground his teeth together as Reid spoke to the closed door, evidently ignoring him. He couldn’t believe Zoey was picking them over him. “Yeah!” he shouted, hoping she heard from her room. “The gross boy is leaving so it’s safe!” Suddenly, the strap to his backpack broke clean in half, and the bag crashed to the floor. Griffin glared at it, confused and frustrated that nothing seemed to be going his way, then quickly snatched it back up and then stormed out.

Zoey pressed her back to the door and slid down it to the floor. She felt like screaming, but apparently not everyone knew that slamming a door meant that an argument was over, Zoey wasn’t actually available, try again later. She pressed her palms into her eyes until she heard Griffin make his exit. “Go. Away!” She brought her fist down against the door with the second word, hoping that it covered up the shake in her voice. “Just fucking leave, Reid. Like, literally get the fuck out.”

He couldn't see it, but Reid rolled their eyes at Griffin's words. When his backpack crashed to the floor, they snorted. He deserved it for the way he'd spoken to them. The tension only left their shoulders when he stormed out.  Zoey's words, however, were a different matter entirely. A defeated groan rose in the back of their throat and Reid tapped the door twice with the side of their hand, almost too softly to make a sound. "I'm going," they said quietly, already heading for the door as the past ten minutes replayed in their head.

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: You Going to Todd’s? (Brick/Blossom)

My Powerpufftober fic! Still rocking the high school AU for this, so consider it a part 5 to the Shooketh, Not Stirred series. As always, can be read alone, but happens in the same universe as part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4. This is also posted on my AO3.

Summary: Brick and Blossom go on a Halloween scavenger hunt. It sucks.

xxx

Blossom checked her watch for the fourth time in ten minutes. It was already a quarter past 9 p.m., her Frankentini was going flat in its plastic neon martini glass, and she was starting to regret coming to Todd’s overhyped Halloween party at all.

“Oh, hey Blossom,” said Harry Pitt, ferrying three bright glasses of the same watered down mixed drink Blossom was too preoccupied to enjoy. “You hanging out?”

Blossom smiled politely. “Hi, Harry. Just waiting for someone.”

Harry’s extra padded shoulders slumped in his pinstripe mafia boss costume. “Oh, let me guess.”

Blossom frowned, a reply on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it when precisely at that moment, Brick stormed through the front door like he was running from a zombie horde and desperate for a weapon. Todd himself spread his arms with a “What, your hairdresser keep you late?” and was almost mowed down with a cursory “Shut up, Todd.” Curiously, Brick made a beeline for the unpopulated second floor. He didn’t even see the other high school Seniors who barely dodged his path. Todd grimaced in his fake vampire fangs and chugged the rest of his beer. “Cool, catch up with you later, bruh!” he said, but no one was listening.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Blossom didn’t have time to feel bad about Harry’s dejected sigh as she ditched her drink and followed Brick upstairs. The Spotify Halloween playlist booming in the speakers faded to a low bass din as Blossom rounded the corner in the upstairs hallway. “Brick?” she called, a little annoyed.

No text, no call. He could have at least told her he’d be late so she could have timed her arrival better. With a mouthful of grievances and a heart full of him, she pushed open the lighted bathroom door at the end of the dark hall. “Brick, did you hear me calling—”

A fluttery and spine-chilling laugh slithered past the crack in the door and sank into her flesh like a snake bite. It arrested her where she stood halfway over the threshold, shackled in the throes of a very specific terror she could never forget.

Brick stood at the pedestal sink, his fingers attempting to fuse with the porcelain as he gripped it hard enough to crack and stared with manic focus at the mirror. All around them, the lyrical voice reverberated:

“Poor, angry boy, there’s yet no end to your suffering! For this next task, I want you on your knees groveling. Hide your tears And sharpen your shears— To save your brothers, make me a true offering.”

Brick snarled at his reflection, as if his demon might appear there in the mirror to throttle. But there was only him in the glass, furious and frothing under his red hoodie. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”

It took only a moment for Blossom to shake her stupor as instinct and training took over. “Brick,” she said, crossing the small bathroom to touch him.

Red eyes narrowed at her approach until the moment he recognized her beneath her smeared costume lipstick and dark eyeliner. “Blossom?” he rasped. His surprise made sense when she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirror. Crop tops, fake bloodstains, and fishnets weren’t her normal style, but in a parallel nightmare universe perhaps they could have been.

The blushing eighteen-year-old boy in him went straight for her midriff, but his distress stayed his hand. “Fuck.” He rubbed his eyes.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Nothing, just— Let me get in there.” He reached around her to pull open one of the drawers next to the sink in search of something.

“It’s not nothing.”

He didn’t answer as shut the drawer and checked the one below it.

“Brick, hey. You could have called me—”

With a snarl, he slammed the drawer closed and glared at her. “I was a little busy.”

“Talking to Him?” Blossom held his glare like a hand grenade with her thumb through the pin, ready to pull. “I’d never forget that repulsive lilt. Tell me what’s going on.”

He chickened out of answering her and dove for the drawers on the other side of the sink, where he found what he’d been looking for. Blossom barely had time to question the large scissors he’d pulled out before his hood was down and his man bun toppled into the sink with all the finality of a guillotined head.

Blossom gasped. “Brick!”

Somber as a corpse, he fished out his shorn bundle of hair from the sink, and Blossom watched as it burst into flame in his palm. Smoke curled through his fingers and rose high above them in an angry, red miasma. Its stink was saccharine and brought tears to Blossom’s eyes.

And then, it moved. In swirling, bloody tendrils, it slithered through the cracks above the bathroom door and down the hall as though it had a destination in mind.

“Oh, shit.” Brick dashed after it, and Blossom dashed after him down the stairs. His hand was hot in hers when she caught it and yanked him back. The split second in which their eyes met was an eon of understanding, bone-deep and cauldron-brewed. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked like he needed a friend.

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

“Blossom,” he tried to argue.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Blossom, hey babe, wanna flip some cups on my team?” Todd sidled up to Blossom with a stack of solo cups. Then he noticed Brick’s serrated haircut. “Buddy, what the shit happened to your hair?”

“Please go away,” Blossom said at the same time as Brick said, “Choke on my dick.”

She grimaced at Brick’s vulgarity, but Todd took a step back. Before he could snap back, he noticed the red smoke wafting through his house out the open window. “Oh shit, fire?”

“There’s a fire?!” someone else exclaimed, and panic ensued.

Blossom was about to intervene when Brick snatched her hand and dragged out the front door. “Where did it go?” he said, squinting in the dark.

Blossom swallowed her instinct to calm down her fellow partygoers (there was no fire, they’d be fine, surely…) and looked around for the demonic smoke. “There! It’s heading east.” She rose into the air to fly after it, but paused when she noticed Brick hadn’t followed her. Instead, he jogged down Todd’s cul-de-sac toward the main road. “What are you—hey!”

She landed on the ground in front of him, cutting off his dash. He tried to go around her, but she easily blocked him. It was like he wasn’t even trying to move past her, unless…

“You’re powerless,” she said.

That was the wrong thing to say. “It’s just a temporary setback,” he said in the same choke-on-my-dick tone he usually reserved for Todd.

When he tried to get around Blossom again, she put her booted foot down and cracked the asphalt. He didn’t try to pass her again. “I’m not going to ask you again.” Then, more gently: “Please, let me help you.”

The last of Brick’s petulant pride dissolved to ashes just like his ruined hair she knew he loved, and yet he’d viciously cut it off anyway. Hesitant, yet stubbornly determined, he held her gaze. “It’s Him. He’s fucking with me. Sapped my powers and said my brothers and I will pay the ultimate price unless I solve this idiotic scavenger hunt by midnight.”

“…Wow.”

“Yeah, so it’s not like I have much of a choice.”

Blossom cupped his cheek. His chopped hair was not a total disaster, but it needed cleaning up. All that time he’d spent growing it out again…

Brick sucked in a sharp breath at her tender touch. He was as rigid as a pole, gritting his teeth hard enough to shatter. Blossom’s gaze hardened, and an old but fierce fire ignited in her Super-powered veins. “We’ll beat Him’s game. I promise you. Nothing’s going to happen to you or your brothers.”

Brick let his eyes fall closed as he touched his hand to hers, and that was probably the most intimacy she was going to get out of him in the middle of a murder-y scavenger hunt on Halloween. Maybe after they booted Him back to whatever pit he’d been living in all these years she could salvage what should have been a fun, romantic date with her sort-of boyfriend.

Blossom cleared her throat. “So, evil limericks?”

Brick just groaned from the bottom of his tortured soul. He took her hand and led the way after the demonic smoke before they could lose its trail. The smoke led them to Townsville High School a few blocks from Todd’s, specifically to the annual haunted house experience the Senior class spearheaded every year. Plenty of students dressed in their ghoulish finery crowded in the lawn socializing and lining up to take a turn through the haunted house.

Bubbles was on duty as part of the social committee in charge of managing the exhibit. When she spotted Brick and Blossom headed for the cafeteria door that had been transformed into the haunted house’s black-curtained foyer, she bounced over to them. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you guys here tonight! I thought you were going to Todd’s. Wait, Brick, did you cut your hair?”

“It’s a long story,” Blossom said.

“Whoa! Slow down. You can’t go inside without a costume.” Bubbles blocked Brick’s single-minded steamroll inside after the last of the curling, red smoke slithered past.

“Bubbles, move,” Brick spat.

“No way. You can be a party pooper at Todd’s all you like, but you’re not bringing any of that into my super scary haunted house that I spent all day decorating.”

“I swear to god—”

“Bubbles, do you have any eye liner?” Blossom interrupted before Brick could say something to her sister she would make him regret for the rest of his life.

Bubbles, dressed in glam trash Powerpunk solidarity with her sisters for the night in fishnets and glitter, grinned as she dug in the pockets of her spider web-patterned black tutu. “Great idea, Blossom! C’mere, you.”

“What—hey!” Brick was literally powerless to stop Bubbles from manhandling him into a quick makeover. “There, it’s purr-fect!”

Despite the possibility of Brick’s gruesome end by satanic evisceration looming at the end of the night, Blossom could not help but laugh at the cute nose and whiskers that transformed Brick from grumpy boy to grumpy cat.

The flash on Bubbles’ phone went off.

“Hey!” Brick was redder in the face than his ruined hair.

Bubbles preened as she easily danced out of Brick’s reach before he could nab her phone and delete the evidence. “You look so cute!”

Brick turned to Blossom as his final saving grace, but there were tears in her eyes as she tried to pull herself together. “I’m so sorry, but she’s totally right. You look very cute right now.”

“Fuck this,” he grumbled, bright as a tomato as he shoved past a floating Bubbles and stormed inside the haunted house.

“Oh no—Brick, wait!” Blossom tried to tone down her giggles as she ran after him. “Bubbles, come on, this is actually serious.”

The sisters headed inside to a spooky banshee screams playlist past Ms. Keane’s bubbling cauldron and the football team zombified in a cardboard graveyard, until finally Mr. Green welcomed them to the final stop with a frightful flourish. “Step on up, boys and girls. See your future, if you dare. Mwahahahaha!”

Brick took one look at the over-eager demon teacher and tried to leave. “Maybe I should just let Him kill me while I have some dignity left.”

Blossom caught up to him and slipped her hand in his before he could turn back. The sobering reminder of why they were even here sent a chill all the way to her fingers, and she squeezed his hand in what she hoped was reassurance. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“What’s going on?” Bubbles asked, peering around Blossom’s shoulder.

But Blossom was too preoccupied by the unnatural red smoke swirling around the final, purple-draped room and its sole occupant: Robin Snyder in a truly rocking dead fortune teller costume. “Come in, come in! Let the spirits foretell your Halloween future!”

Bubbles giggled and skipped inside. She planted a very loud, very adorable kiss on Robin’s head.

“Bubbles, what’re you doing in here? You’re supposed to be on welcome duty!” Robin complained, but she reached for Bubbles’ hand and pulled her down into the chair next to her.

“I wanted to see you, obviously!”

Brick’s hand in Blossom’s squeezed uncomfortably tight, and she soon realized why: the red smoke had descended upon the ouija board set up on Robin’s table and absorbed inside it. Bubbles and Robin did not seem to notice it at all.

“All right, let’s get this shit over with,” Brick said, taking one of the empty seats across the table.

“Wow, such enthusiasm,” Robin said flatly.

Blossom took a seat next to Brick and asked their costumed host, “How does this work?”

“It’s a séance. We’ll ask the spirits what we want to know, and the board will do the rest. Everybody put a hand on the planchette.”

The moment everyone’s hands touched the plastic planchette, red smoke bubbled up from beneath it and swirled around them. In a panic, Robin tried to pull away, but found that she couldn’t. Everyone’s hands were stuck to the planchette.

“What—” Bubbles sputtered, but Him’s cotton candy creep show voice slithered from the smoke and stole her breath:

“This clue is not for the fainthearted: Unearth your next destination uncharted. Absent any confession, To the board pose your question And divine who among you just farted!”

“What the hell was that?!” Robin said at the same time as Bubbles wailed, “Oh nooooo!”

Before Blossom could respond to Robin’s very reasonable question, her arm was yanked across the board still stuck to the planchette: “B”.

Brick’s smoky cat-eyes were wide and slightly manic as he looked at Blossom, and she looked at him. She flushed so badly that she nearly swallowed her own tongue to say, “It wasn’t me!”

“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t me,” he shot back. And then, understanding dawning, they both looked across the table.

“Bubbles?” Blossom said.

“I DON’T WANT TO PLAY THIS GAME ANYMORE!” she screeched.

“Bubbles definitely farted,” Brick deadpanned. He dragged the planchette and everyone’s hands still stuck to it toward the “U” and then back to the “B” until the board spelled out Bubbles’ name. As soon as the planchette settled on the “S”, it released everyone’s hands in time for the heady, red smoke to engulf the board entirely.

Bubbles, distraught, shot out of her chair and covered her eyes in shame.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Robin tried to coax her back down from the high corner she’d flown to. “Come on down from there—Bubbles, really, I can’t even smell anything!”

“You’re just saying that because you love me!” Bubbles complained.

“Oh my god,” Blossom said, too preoccupied with the board to worry about her sister’s mortification. “Is that—”

“A map of the city?” Brick finished her sentence.

The ouija board was transformed into a mini map of Townsville, if a preschooler had drawn it in crayon.

“Here we are at THS.” Blossom pointed her finger to a collection of buildings scribbled in blue crayon. “And here…” She followed a crosshatch path to the edge of the map where a horned, red, devil face sticker grinned up at her. “The cemetery.”

Brick stood up so fast his chair fell over. He stood there for half a second, his face screwed up, and then: “Goddamnit!”

He’d forgotten he couldn’t fly.

“I can carry you.” Blossom held out her hand.

“Is everything okay in here? Robin, the next group is waiting.” Mr. Green poked his horned head through the thick drapes and sniffled. “Ew, what’s that smell?”

“Oh my god!” Bubbles turned beet red and disappeared in a flash of blue, knocking down the rest of the chairs and Brick too, if Blossom hadn’t caught his elbow before he could break his nose on the tiled floor.

“Bubbles! Sorry, Mr. Green.” Robin dashed after her.

“Wait just a minute—”

In the chaos, Blossom let Brick slip out of her grip, and he stormed out the opposite door back outside.  

“What are you doing?” Blossom asked when he stopped at the sidewalk.

“Calling a Lyft.”

“I just said I can fly us both.”

“Hard pass.”

Blossom crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong with it? Flying would be faster, and it’s free.”

“I’m not letting you carry me like some damsel in distress.”

“Honestly, Brick. There’s a demon threatening to kill you and you’re worried about your masculinity?”

“No, I mean—look, this isn’t your problem, okay?”

“You did not just say that to me.”

He scowled so deeply that it should have given her pause, but the painted whiskers somewhat ruined his menace. He clenched his phone hard enough to crack if he’d still had his powers. “I didn’t mean it like I don’t want you here.”

Blossom materialized inches from his face in an unnecessary display of power that nonetheless felt fantastic. “That’s better.”

Brick flushed, but not from anger. When she slipped her hand over his, he eased his grip and relinquished his abused phone.

“That’s better,” she said again, more honey than venom this time.

Like hell was she going to send him off to his possible doom alone, powerless and with a really bad haircut painted like a cat.

“Blossom, I’m—”

Her kiss shut him up, and with it any further excuses to go it alone. And despite his increasingly desperate situation, he kissed her back like he’d never get the chance to again.

A car horn honked. “Hey, are you Brick?” asked an older guy in a Honda Civic with a fuzzy, pink mustache attached to the front bumper.

Brick very briefly broke their make-out session to reply, “No,” and then tightened his arms around Blossom’s waist and got right back to it.

The Lyft driver squinted between the profile picture on his phone and Brick. “Wait, really?”

“Never heard of the guy,” he mumbled against her lips, proving that if she wanted to get something done, she’d have to do it herself.

Blossom rolled her eyes and removed his hands from her. Before he could do anything about it, she hoisted him onto her back and hooked her arms under his knees. “Come on, let’s go thwart your imminent murder.”

The Lyft driver watched them take off in a blur of pink. “Goddamn teenagers.”

He canceled the Lyft order and left Brick a one star rating, which was probably fair.

xxx

When Blossom touched down near the entrance to the graveyard, it was back to business. “How much time do we have?”

Brick checked his phone. “About an hour and a half.”

She jogged to keep up with his longer stride as they made their way deeper into the graveyard. “Okay, that’s plenty of time to figure this out.”

A peal of laughter stopped them in their tracks on the gravel path for the split second it took them both to recognize that particular manic cadence.

“Butch,” Blossom said at the same time as Brick said, “Motherfucker.”

Beyond a small hill near the base of a huge oak tree, Brick’s brothers, Buttercup, and Mike Believe sat among the granite tombstones with a pillowcase full of candy passing a joint around. Buttercup had just blown a smoke ring in the shape of a star.

“Bitch, I’m too stoned for this fucking tongue witchcraft,” Butch said. He made an appropriately chilling sight all in black with his face painted black and white in the design of a skull.

“Hey, can you blow a heart?” Boomer asked.

“You sap.” But Buttercup took another drag and hopped off the tombstone she’d been sitting on. Moonlight glinted off the spikes on her black leather jacket as she reeled back and blew three perfect, concentric hearts from her red-painted lips.

Boomer sat up from his place under Mike’s arm and snapped a picture on his phone. “You officially have the greatest special power out of all of us, no contest.”

Mike laughed and accepted the joint when Buttercup passed it to him. “I’m gonna have to agree with that one.”

“That’s because you’re one hundred percent whipped,” Butch said.

Mike shrugged. “Eh.”

“Buttercup.” Blossom approached her sister. “You’re smoking here? What if someone catches you?”

“Somebody just did,” Boomer said under his breath.

“Damn, Blossom, you girls doing a three-way theme tonight?” Butch slipped off the tombstone he’d been draped over to admire her fishnets and then Buttercup’s matching set. “I like it.”

“Give me that.” Brick took the joint from Mike and snuffed it out under his foot.

“Whoa, whoa,” Mike said. He stood up, and at his full height in a 1920s-style adventurer’s costume, he was a Sight™ to behold, if Blossom was being completely honest.

“Brick, what’s the matter?” Boomer peered around Mike in his homemade mummy costume. “And why the hell are you wearing cat makeup?”

“Oh shit, he is,” Buttercup said with a snort.

Before Brick could lose his temper, Blossom said, “Brick, the clue. We don’t have all night.”

“What clue?” Boomer asked. He peered at them seriously. “What’re you two doing here, anyway?”

“Yeah, I thought you were going to Todd’s,” Mike said.

“Todd’s parties blow,” Buttercup said.

Blossom ignored them. “Something about unearthing a destination uncharted. What could it mean…?”

Brick made for quite the adorable pensive cat as he considered. He seemed to come to the answer at the same time as Blossom.

“No,” Blossom said. “There’s no way.”

“We’re going to have to,” Brick said. “What else could it mean?”

“It’s extremely illegal.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fucking cursed!”

“We can’t dig up a bunch of graves!”

“Wow, so that’s what that creepy limerick meant?” Robin approached the group with Bubbles looking windblown and totally ready to get her hands dirty digging up some goddamned graves.

“Bubbles,” Blossom said. “Look, I’m sorry about before—”

“This is Him’s doing,” Bubbles said flatly. “I recognized the voice when I calmed down and we followed you here. Just tell me what the plan is.”

“Did you say Him?” Boomer said soberly.

Buttercup put her hands up. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

Brick pulled down his hoodie and revealed his ridiculous haircut. “This is what the fuck’s going on.”

Boomer looked close to tears at the sight of Brick’s mangled hair.

“Him cursed Brick, and we have to solve a scavenger hunt before midnight or he and his brothers will pay the ultimate price,” Blossom said.

“The ultimate price?” Mike said, aghast.

“What the fuck.” Butch advanced on Brick. “What bullshit did you get us into this time—”

Blossom materialized in between Brick and Butch before the latter could carry out whatever violence he intended. She tapped him hard on the chest, and he stumbled back, probably too stoned to hold his normal balance against her Super strength. “Not today, Butch. Him took Brick’s powers.”

“Shit,” Boomer said. Blue sparks jumped in between his toilet paper-wrapped fists. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

Blossom looked to Brick, who was clearly outnumbered and they both knew it. With a groan, he ran his hands through what was left of his poor hair. “We’ll split up,” he said.

“And do what?” Buttercup said.

“Somewhere here, there’s bound to be a clue left by Him. I know that’s not a lot to go on, but it’s all we’ve got right now,” Blossom said. “Split up and cover as much ground as possible.”

“And what are we looking for?” Robin asked.

“Red smoke, demonic laughter, a general feeling of imminent disembowelment,” Brick said.

Bubbles cracked her knuckles and tightened her pigtails. “The usual, then.”

“Fuckin’ right.” Butch began to crackle with pent up green power.

With four other Supers plus Mike and Robin helping cover ground, Blossom hoped they could at least glean some inkling of what Him’s last clue meant. She stayed with Brick since he didn’t have his powers anymore, and together they wandered deeper into the graveyard. Lampposts along the gravel path cast a saturnine glow amidst the trees, fey and eerie on this most eerie of nights.

“Blossom,” Brick said softly. “If we don’t figure this out before midnight—”

“We will,” Blossom said.

He stopped, and Blossom turned to look back at him. Even powerless, there was a presence in his red eyes, beyond mortal and brimming with fire. Even as enemies, even when she couldn’t stand to breathe the same air as him, she had recognized that counterpoint in him, that tranquil confidence that there was nothing in this world he couldn’t overcome. It was a part of him and no one, not even Him, could take it away.

“But if we don’t,” he pressed.

Blossom’s throat wrenched to see him so calm. Not much scared Brick, not truly, but his softness spoke volumes here where only ghosts could hear them. Go, his eyes entreated her, forget about me and go before it gets you too.

She marched up to him and placed her hand on his chest. Ice froze her breath to mist as her anger clawed its way out of her, and she let him see it. “Then Hell will tremble to watch me drag you back out.”

Brick said nothing. He slipped his hand over hers and curled his fingers. Even now, he was far warmer than anyone she had ever known, and she clung to that certainty.

“Come on,” Blossom said, pulling him along after her. “Let’s solve this so we can go home.”

They followed the floating lamp lights east. Fog gathered at their feet, heavy and strange, but Brick held her hand, and secretly she was grateful not to be alone in such a creepy place. When a laughter they both wished they didn’t recognize reached them on the wind, Blossom’s heart leaped into her throat and she took off running with Brick hot on her heels.

The cachinnation petered out when they came across a man in a grey uniform and hat with a flashlight. “Hey, what’re you kids doing here?”

“We were just—” Blossom began.

“Enough,” Brick said, stepping forward. He put an arm out to block Blossom’s path. “I know it’s you.”

“Brick,” Blossom said.

“Son, I don’t know what you mean,” the graveyard worker said.

Brick ignored him. “I played your shitty game. This is the end. Stop hiding behind that pathetic mask and show yourself.”

The portly graveyard worker dropped his flashlight with a heavy crunch on the gravel. Watery, blue eyes bled to baleful red, and his pasty cheeks stretched to accommodate a smile far too wide for his human face. A low chuckle built deep in his chest like termites in a kicked mound, bubbling up through his throat to bursting.

“H͓̼̯ḭ̠̣d͜i̞᷊̯᷂͜n̨͇͟g̤̱͓,̼͎ a̮m̱̪̫͚͢ I̤̜̗?̨̞ T̨̳̻̜h͚̟̖̜͢a͖̻̠̜͇t̨̹ s͖i̹ṃp̨̟͈͕͢ļy̢͔͜ w̨̱o͈̜̟̠͟n̹̮̖’̳̝t̮ d̪̟̪̝o̹̠.͕̫̙̩”

The booming, sinister voice came from that mouth full of teeth, but it seemed to grow out of Blossom’s bones. She felt it in her lungs, her fingertips, as a tingle on her lips Brick had kissed. And she remembered he was vulnerable, under attack by this very thing standing before them now masquerading in a meat sack.

Well, screw that.

Blossom lowered Brick’s wrist and stepped around him. No matter how hard he pushed against her, he was no match for her power—power she leaked now like gasoline fumes hungry for a spark. The gravel at her feet froze, and her eyes faded to ghastly pink as she faced her childhood nightmare. “Hello, demon,” she said.

“Y̹o̬͟u̢̡̳.”

The lampposts flickered and popped, plunging the earthly ossuary into chilling shadows, but Blossom did not fear the cold. Her fists frosted over as she clenched them, and her step summoned an ice floe in the gravel that bridged the crevasse between her and the coward who dared to haunt Brick and his brothers on her watch.

“Well?” she said. “I’m waiting.”

His meat sack shrank back. This was no child Him was taunting, but a fully realized Super who was no longer afraid of his mind games. He closed that heinous mouth and cleared his throat with a dainty, sausage-fingered hand over his heart, and recited in Him’s more lyrical pitch:

“You’ve served all night at my gracious pleasure. Now the final test to determine your true measure: Find the lady who slumbers In her crypt sunk in umber. X marks the location of my precious treasure.”

No sooner had Him given them their last absurd clue than the graveyard worker seized and fell to his knees. Blossom dashed to catch him before he could injure himself. The man coughed and wheezed as if he’d held his breath for too long.

“What in tarnation…?” he muttered, dazed.

“Sir, you had a dizzy spell. You’re all right now,” Blossom said, clinically calm as she discreetly checked him for signs of blood or other wounds. She found none. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“Who… Hey, you kids shouldn’t be here!”

Brick growled and grabbed Blossom’s elbow to haul her back up. “Let’s go.”

“Take it easy, sir,” Blossom said, and let Brick drag her along before the man could think to call security on them.

When they were out of earshot, Brick whirled on her like he was about to get scary, but she held up a hand for silence.

“Before you get mad, I was just trying to—”

His kiss was not as unexpected as she once may have thought it would be. Feverish, frantic, like a boy about to die in twenty-odd minutes, sure, but not unexpected. “Fuck, Blossom,” he panted when they parted for a breath.

Blossom’s heart swelled at his raw emotion on full display, as rare as it was true, and she almost lost herself in it. But they had work yet to do. She tucked his too-long bangs behind his ear.

“So, a lady who slumbers,” she said. “I’m guessing it’s a special statue.”

“A crypt sunk in umber,” Brick said, licking his lips. “A mausoleum, maybe.”

“That narrows it down, for sure. Must be older if it’s sinking.”

“I saw a map of the cemetery at the entrance.”

Blossom grinned and put her fist in the air. She fired a pink blaster that lit up the night sky and would summon their siblings soon. “Let’s check it out.”

He didn’t complain this time when she carried him on her back for a speedy trip back to the entrance and a quick check of the map. There were four mausoleums in the cemetery.

“Found something, Leader Girl?” Buttercup, Butch, Bubbles, and Robin were the first to catch up to the Reds, and Blossom filled them in just as Boomer returned with Mike.

“Four mausoleums? Sounds like we need to split up again,” Mike said.

“If you find anything, send a signal,” Brick said.

Chance. Brick’s and his brothers’ lives were up to the one-in-four chance that they would find the right crypt. All around them, Him’s lollipop laughter followed them like a demented poltergeist.

“This isn’t it!” Brick slammed a fist against the innermost tomb in their chosen mausoleum. “There’s nothing here.”

Blossom was about to respond to that when a bright, blue spark crackled in the air. Boomer and Mike had found something. “Hurry!”

The mausoleum Boomer and Mike had picked was guarded by a lichen-infested statue of a woman with angel wings in a bed of grassless, brown soil, so dark it could have been umber in daylight. Bubbles, Robin, and the Greens arrived soon after Blossom and Brick charged inside.

“Check it out.” Boomer indicated the innermost tomb carved with two crossed sabers.

“X marks the spot,” Mike said grimly. “Oh crap, it’s almost midnight!”

“Move!” Brick tried to push the crypt open, but it was too heavy for him, so Blossom helped. The heavy stone slab groaned when she pushed it, and a plume of foul, red smoke burst from the opening.

Him’s maniacal laughter rose with the smoke that swirled on the domed ceiling and opened two glowing eyes and a cheshire smile. “My my, cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?”

Bubbles shoved her phone at the unholy miasma. “It’s midnight! We beat your stupid deadline, see?”

“Bubbles, please don’t antagonize the ancient evil,” Robin whispered nervously.

“Technically, Blossom met the deadline since Brick was too weak to open the tomb,” Him crooned.

“You took my powers!” Brick said.

Him’s sinister smile fell. “Oh…did I? My bad. Here you go.”

The red smoke converged on Brick and passed through him with the force of a sword through the gut, and he collapsed to his knees in a circle of fire, gagging. Bubbles and Boomer were lightning fast as they swept Robin and Mike as far away from the conflagration as possible.

“Butch, shield!” Blossom commanded, and Buttercup shoved him so hard he tripped and crashed against his own hastily-erected shield bubble. It contained the explosion of power well enough to keep the mausoleum standing.

“Tsk tsk tsk, this won’t do. All I wanted was to play a little father-son game with you, and you had to drag your girlfriend into it. Parenting is so hard these days. I’ll just have to teach you boys a lesson.”

Blossom’s heart twisted. If Him was truly serious about killing Brick and his brothers, he would have to go through her first.

“Like hell,” Buttercup spat, her fists glowing green.

Brick got to his feet groggily. He looked like he just survived a bad case of seasickness.

Him burst out laughing. “Choice words, Buttercup. Now boys, time to pay the ultimate price!”

The tomb lid slid to the ground on unseen forces, revealing the horror within. Blossom readied her pink blasters, and her sisters did the same. Brick took one look in there and recoiled. “What the fuck—”

When no hellspawn burst from the tomb to attack, Blossom approached and peered over the edge. Inside were hundreds of polaroids of young children in dresses with their hair styled as they posed like Victorian paintings. Blossom reached for one.

Buttercup burst out laughing. “Holy shit, is this you?!” She had two polaroids in her hands as she flapped them in Butch’s face.

“Give me those!” Butch snarled.

“Wow,” Robin said, torn between hysteria and horror as she gawked at a picture of six-year-old Butch with bunny clips in his hair wearing a frilly white dress. “Wait until my therapist hears about this.”

In the picture Blossom had selected, Brick’s hair was expertly braided over his shoulder as he sat on a stone throne surrounded by candelabras and horned skulls in a flowing, white dress. He did not look happy to be there. He looked even less happy to behold this childhood shame years later.

“I burned those,” he said in a voice from beyond the grave to no one in particular.

“I made copies!” Him sang. “And now, all of Townsville will get to see you in your pageantry finest!”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Butch screeched as Buttercup took off flying with a fistful of polaroids laughing her ass off. “Get back here!”

“You know, I think I look pretty cute in these, actually,” Boomer said.

Mike laughed. “Yeah, you totally do.”

“This is what you meant by paying the ultimate price?” Blossom asked the incorporeal demon head floating above them.

Him grinned. “Why, of course. Oh! You didn’t think I would murder my own sons, did you?”

The sinister glint in those yellow eyes told a very different story, one that may have ended poorly if she hadn’t forced Brick to involve her in whatever was going on.

Or maybe Him was just bored of his perpetual existence in a hellish void where a cute photoshoot with his re-spawned Super sons was the most exciting thing that had happened in a millennium, and he was feeling nostalgic.

The tomb erupted in flames all of a sudden when Brick breathed fire over all the polaroids.

Bubbles gasped. “Brick! Those were a work of art, how could you?!”

Brick glared at her with glowing, red eyes. “We’re never speaking of this again. Give me those.” He snatched the photos Robin was holding and burned them too.

Blossom hastily pocketed the picture she’d nabbed of baby Brick before he could notice.

Him disappeared in a swirl of smoke and laughter. “Happy Halloween! Remember to brush your teeth…”

“I can’t believe I came all the way here for this,” Robin said. “Literally, the weirdest shit is always happening to you guys. Can we just have a normal Halloween, like, one time? Just once?”

Boomer laughed. “Tall order, Robin.”

A loud explosion outside told Blossom the Greens’ fighting was going too far, as usual.

“Brick? What’re you doing?” Blossom asked as she and the others followed him outside.

“Helping Butch destroy the evidence your sister stole.” He took off in a blaze of red.

“What a killjoy,” Bubbles pouted.

Blossom bit her lip and revealed her pilfered polaroid. Bubbles’ smile turned downright sinister as she greedily snatched it. “Blossom, I love you.”

“That’s for emergencies only. I mean it, or he’ll kill me.”

Boomer threw an arm around her shoulders and grinned. “Nah, he’d never turn on his girlfriend.”

Bubbles gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re right!”

Blossom flushed. “But we’re not exactly—”

“Him said it, so it’s gotta be official by now,” Boomer teased.

“Ooh, true. There’s nothing more official than a primordial force of chaos acknowledging your relationship status,” Mike said.

“Hey, you damn kids! You’re not supposed to be here!” shouted the no-longer-possessed groundskeeper from before. He had a shovel that he shook at Brick, Butch, and Buttercup locked in a game of cat and mouse as the brothers tried to reclaim the evidence of their dignity.

“Time to go,” Blossom said.

“Hey, party at Todd’s?” Mike asked.

“Great idea!” Bubbles chirped as she gave Robin a leg up onto her back.

As Blossom found herself back at the same party where she’d begun the night on the sofa next to Buttercup regaling everyone who would listen with the story of Butch’s child beauty pageant past (sans evidence because Brick had managed to burn it, unfortunately), she found her gaze drawn back to Brick. He was up getting them drinks, his haircut cleaned up thanks to Boomer, snickering at something Mike had said.

“Blossom, where are you going?” Bubbles asked when she got up.

“Just going to talk to Brick,” she said. “Officially.”

Bubbles lit up and grabbed the nearest hand to crush her feelings into, which happened to be Butch’s. “What the—ow, woman, let go!”

Brick saw her coming and stared at her growing smile like the baffled teenager he was underneath it all. With all their friends’ eyes on her, she walked right up to him and kissed him in front of everyone.

Let them see, she thought. Let anyone who was watching and biding their time to strike see, and let them try.

Lyrical laughter echoed somewhere on the edges of hearing over their friends’ laudatory cheers and loud calls for celebratory shots, but Blossom tuned it out as she smiled into her kiss.  

xxx

Like Boomer, I am a sap who loves a happy ending. Reds are finally official in this AU?! Took us long enough. Also, I always saw Him as this weird dichotomy of ancient murder-y evil and chaotic good mom. I feel like trolling the Boys would be a favorite past time of his. Might write more Him in the future and explore that more.

Happy Halloween y’all. Get spooky, and stay safe!

[fermataheart]

dead art | silas & metzli

TIMING: Current. LOCATION: Metzli’s gallery. PARTIES: @fermataheart​ & @deathisanartmetzli​ SUMMARY: A little misunderstanding leads to a surprisingly positive outcome. CONTENT WARNINGS: Sibling death (mentions). 

It took hours to get the smell of death off of them last night. Three showers later and some perfume, and Metzli felt like they finally got it off. All they had wanted to do last night was unwind, but a stranger just had to bump into them. He just had to pull out the threatening growls from a spot reserved for their need to feel a little pain and distract themselves from their thoughts. Why they couldn’t find a better outlet, Metzli never bothered to try to find out. They were willing to just walk past, to ignore that deeply ingrained need to attack. But the stranger would not allow for that.

The two walked away after being evenly matched, or rather, because Metzli used their evasive tactics to just wear him out. Needless to say, they were a little sore as they made their rounds around the gallery. Things were finally back to normal, and patrons had long forgotten the recent show Eilidh and them gave everyone. The gallery’s success was of great importance to Metzli, and it made them feel good to see people enjoying their time surrounded by art they hand picked.

With a delighted sigh, Metzli walked towards the front as a familiar smell began to permeate through the door. Their smile turned into a frown immediately. A distasteful, and nauseating smell of death. An over-decayed smell of death. Similar to Macleod’s but much stronger. “What are you doing here?” They asked, gritting their teeth and marching towards Silas.

---

Memory issues, that was it. That had to be it. Maybe he wasn’t eating enough, going too long between meals, relying on squirrels and raccoons to sustain him… maybe it fucked with his memory. There was no other reason he should be losing time, but he was. Hours of his days and nights, just… gone. It was either memory issues, or the worst dissociation he’d ever experienced. And it had happened again last night—one minute he was laying in bed, waiting to fall asleep, and the next? Stumbling back into his apartment, confused. His clothes seemed damaged, like he’d gotten into a fight, but of course there wasn’t a mark on his body to prove it.

Ignoring it, Silas tried to squeak in a few hours of rest before the next evening rolled around and it was time for him to try out this painting thing. His stomach protested its emptiness, forcing him to go out and forage for some roadkill to sate his appetite, if only for a few hours. Gods, there had to be a better way to go about this.

Getting cleaned up as best he could in a nearby stream and making sure none of his dark clothing was stained with the carcass’ fluids, Silas hoofed it back into town and over to the gallery.

The less-than-welcome reception surprised him, and his thick brows furrowed in response. “Excuse me?” he grumbled, taken aback. “You’re Metzli, right? Came for the painting class you promised… for the writer’s block.” Confusion was evident on his face as he gave them a once-over, dark eyes narrowing. “Sorry do I—do I know you from somewhere?”

---

Metzli’s eye twitched at Silas’ apparent confusion. He was definitely the guy who incited the fight they had. For now though, they were going to give him the benefit of the doubt. “You started a fight with me. Last night. On Amity.” A layer of annoyance and disdain laced their tone and they stepped closer. “Do you not remember any of that? It was definitely you. I would remember those eyebrows anywhere.” A small dig, but a dig nonetheless.

Silence fell between the two and a hand gripped onto Silas’ hand to drag him into their office. Metzli wanted privacy, especially if there was something supernatural going on. Silas could have general memory loss, or be possessed, or maybe he was feral, or maybe he had a twin. Though, there was no way the scents would match exactly. Regardless, they wanted to get to the bottom of this.

“Okay,” Metzli began, sitting on their desk and crossing their arms, “Let’s go through this. It was you, but you don’t remember. That much is obvious given your genuine confusion. I think you’d remember hitting me with your own fucking arm and laughing hysterically.” Red eyes met with Silas’ and then they quickly faded back to black. Even with their composure intact, they were ready to pounce at any given moment.

---

“A fight?” Silas parroted them, eyes widening. “I don’t—what are you talking about?” The gentle tease drew a scoff from him, but anger was hardly his reaction. He was too damn confused to be angry, in all truthfulness.

Aforementioned brows rose at the intrusion of his personal space, but he didn’t put up much of a fight as they dragged him out of the entryway. “What the fuck,” he breathed to himself, crossing his arms over his chest once they were alone and Metzli had relinquished their grip on him, mirroring their defensive stance.

“My—my arm?” the zombie bleated in disbelief, immediately looking down at his limbs as if they would have suddenly sprouted little legs and taken off on their own. They were still both present, of course, and functioning as well as they ever had. He glanced back up just in time to catch the red glint in their eyes, and felt his stomach drop. Fuck.

“Look, uh… I don’t know, I think you got the wrong guy,” he backpedaled, rubbing his hands up and down his own arms. It was weird hearing someone tell you you’d done something you couldn’t remember—even worse when they told you you’d been dismembered doing it. “All arms are present n’ accounted for, so… sorry somebody jumped you, but I don’t see how it coulda been me…”

---

Eyes narrowed, annoyed and displeased. “Obviously you’re a zombie. I’m not an idiot. Your limbs heal fast.” Sucking their teeth, Metzli stood erect and paced around their desk to reach a drawer with a few bottles of wine. Today felt like a generous one. As they took two glasses out and poured, they raised their brows and spoke. “Listen, I believe you when you say you don’t know what I’m talking about. This place is fucking weird, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone hijacked your body or if you were sleep walking. But it was you. I can smell you.” A glass was pushed forward to Silas, a gesture of good will.

The wine was dry, and a special blend that they had purchased from a special bar, but given Silas’ condition, they didn’t think it’d be an issue. Dulled taste was something that the two of them shared, but the blood would add something to it. “Hope you don’t mind some blood in it. It just actually tastes like something if there’s a little in it.” The first sip settled most of the nerves from seeing someone Metzli suspected to be an enemy, and the next few did well to quell the rest. “Do you run into this issue often at all? Or is this a first?”

---

Obviously you’re a zombie. Silas’ spine stiffened, his posture becoming rigid as he suddenly felt overly-exposed. It wasn’t a fact he went around telling just everyone, and frankly, it was something he himself was still coming to terms with. The idea that this perfect stranger could—no, he supposed they weren’t a perfect stranger, not anymore. Not since he’d apparently attacked them in the middle of the night.

The thought of it made the knot in his stomach grow tighter, and he stared blankly at the glass as it was pushed toward him. “You can… smell me?” Fucking hell, did he stink? He hadn’t noticed, and no one else he’d been in close proximity with that day had made any indication… what the—

“Never mind, don't answer that. I’m… eugh,” Silas groaned, reaching for the glass with a thankful nod. Looking down at it, his ears pricked at the mention of blood. “Who’s blood?” he asked, though the question wasn’t delivered in a way that seemed accusatory, just curious.

“Often? No, I don’t think so.” There was a beat of silence. “Well, maybe. M’not sure. Lately, I guess… lately I’ve been losin’ time. Didn’t think much of it.” Lifting the glass to his lips, the zombie took a long sip, relishing the way it actually managed to tickle his taste buds. “Figured… it was a diet thing.” Giving a half-hearted shrug, he let his gaze flick back to meet Metzli’s. “Sorry about—I, ah… didn’t know I had it in me.”

---

Metzli smiled and then laughed heartily, “I have a very keen sense of smell. Comes with the bite.” A single brow quirked upwards and their smile didn’t waver. “Don’t know whose blood it is, but the barkeep let me know that it was all donated willingly. That was enough for me.” Their shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, a little dismissive of the question. Knowing that much about how the blood was sourced was good enough for them. It had to be. Being ethical about where their source of sustenance came from was becoming a real burden. But they supposed if they were going to be good, it was worth a shot.

“Losing time? Sounds like a run of the mill possession. Piss off any ghosts lately, Sylvain?” Metzli inquired, more out of curiosity than concern. Silas was a stranger, but Metzli knew Sylvain from last night. “Someone could be taking your body for a joyride and you don’t even know it. If you can figure that out, you can generally ward the ghost off and be done with it.”

---

Possession? Syl— “What?” The reaction was unguarded, unfiltered, and absolutely wracked with shock. Silas couldn’t even immediately respond, gawking at Metzli, dumbfounded, as they went on to explain what could be done about it.

“Did you just… call me Sylvain?” His voice was barely above a whisper, the wine glass clutched tightly in his hands, pale knuckles somehow turning an even brighter shade of white. His eyes darted to the side, staring at something that was just behind his host. Breaths came quick and shallow while a ringing started up in his ears—he’d never felt this kind of fear when seeing the ghost of his sibling before, but now… The spectre was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and Silas was unsure if he’d only imagined it.

“Fuck.” While trying to steady his panic, the zombie downed a large portion of the wine Metzli had so kindly offered, glancing around the room like he was expecting a boogeyman to jump out at any second. “My brother. My twin, I—we, uh… it’s a long story.” Another gulp of wine. “He’s been dead for a long time. Since we were kids.” Why would he…?

---

Brows furrowed in confusion, not understanding why the name would throw him off so much. “Yeah, Sylvain. That’s the name you gave me last night.” Metzli answered, still not quite catching on until he began to explain. It was their turn to be shocked, mouth agape and unable to say anything for a few moments while they let their thoughts settle. “Looks like your brother has been having a little fun at your expense. I’d probably start sleeping with a salt ring around ya.” Voice was clearly joking, not registering the sensitivity the topic held.

“What’s your actual name then?” Metzli asked as they poured more wine into Silas’ glass and theirs too. Legs crossed and they adjusted their suit as inner turmoil painted itself on their companion. “He probably just wants to live a little.”

---

“He can’t do that, he can’t just…” Heaving a sigh, Silas pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m Silas. And whatever happened last night was definitely not…” His hand fell from his face, eyelids fluttering open as he stared off into the middle distance. His voice was low and soft, laced with disbelief. “Not like Sylvain.”

A few more beats, and he glanced down at the glass in his hand, recently refilled. His gaze was hard and purposeful, as if he’d find all his answers in the deep red liquid. “He’s been around since it happened. I could always feel him. Didn’t actually see him til’ I got turned, ah’course. N’ he ain’t like any other ghost I’ve ever interacted with, he’s… quiet. Real quiet. Just stares at me, watches me, all hours of the day and night. Catch ‘im sometimes in the reflections of windows n’ puddles in the road, lookin’ at me… don’t know what he wants.”

You do now, his thoughts interjected. “Might be mad about what happened…” Of course he’s mad. It was your fault.

Forcing himself to look at Metzli again, Silas let out a soft, embarrassed chuckle. “Shit, sorry. This is a… lot. Mm, yeah—a lot. Thanks, uh, for the drink.” Lifting the glass in their direction, the zombie couldn’t hide the distant look of worry in his eyes, though he appeared to be trying to force his way past it. “Anyway, um… how badly did you kick my ass last night? M’curious.”

---

Metzli was familiar with that distant look, seeing it many times on themselves and others. The severity of the situation finally reached them, and made them suck their teeth in discomfort. “Uh, sorry about that...man.” Words were slow and awkward, unsure of how to go about it. Though they didn’t particularly feel bad, they knew how to logically see the circumstances for what they were: fucking depressing.

“You don’t have to go into any details. That’s your business,” Metzli said quickly, hoping he wouldn’t continue. That would just make everything feel even more cumbersome. “Didn’t do much ass kicking if I’m being honest.” A smile curled onto their lips and a chuckle tickled their throat. “I pretty much just tried to wear you out enough to just walk away. I was pretty drunk too.”

There was a knock at the door, followed by Janet, their employee, opening it and telling them that the final patron left. With a nod, they thanked her and waved her away. “Well Silas, the painting class should start soon. Think the class could help get your mind off things? Maybe even get you out of that writer’s block.”

---

Grateful that they didn’t press for more information, Silas allowed a small, amused smile to play at his lips. “Explains why I was so fucking exhausted when I.. came to back at home.” Fuck all of that. There had to be a way to get Sylvain to just leave him alone, once and for all. The presence of his twin had lost all its comfort years ago.

Looking between the two, Silas took another large gulp of the wine, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, yeah,” he said once he was able, “worth a shot, anyway.” Hell, it sounded like he might have plenty to write about after all… like the experience of being fucking possessed, for one. If only he could remember it.

---

“Follow me. You can bring your glass too.” Metzli beckoned him with a wave and walked out of their office. The painting room was only a few paces away and already seemed to have a few of the frequent customers Metzli saw on a weekly basis. Their scents were registered in their mind and they smiled. “Hopefully the class does you some good. And sorry you didn’t get a chance to view the rest of the gallery. That was my bad.” Words were spoken away from Silas, arms crossed behind them. Upon reaching the room, a finger pointed towards a rack of smocks. “Grab a smock from there and put it over your clothes. Class will start soon.”

Friendly faces smiled and waved as the two creatures walked in, greeted in return with a smile full of charm. “Hey Tim, hey Lorraine.” They waved and gestured toward Silas. “This is Silas. He’s trying it out today. Make sure to give him a few pointers.” A playful wink floated its way to Silas when they turned and they chuckled. Demeanor completely changed to cater towards the teaching position they were now in.

Removing their suit jacket, they went to the front of the room and put on a red smock to cover the rest of their suit. Canvases were all up, including theirs and the clock ticked its hand on the 7, indicating class should begin. “All right painters, let’s get started. Today is a novice class, so we will be painting something relatively simple, but fun.” The painting to their right was of a landscape during the night, full of trees and stars, even a few shooting in the sky.

---

“Oh, no, don’t worry ‘bout it—just means I can come back again soon to give it a proper look.” Wandering after Metzli, Silas was impressed by the shift in their demeanor. They sure were professional, if nothing else. Sipping awkwardly at the wine still in his hand, he used the other to throw a small wave back at the strangers, recognizing one of them from a coffee shop they’d both been in a few weeks back. When the introduction was made and attention shifted fully to him, he bit his lower lip and forced a smile, glancing down at his boots. He wasn’t normally this shy, but something was seriously throwing him off tonight. “Oh yeah, I’m real garbage at it—y’all are gonna have to carry me,” he warned playfully, managing to steal a glance at the strangers before letting his attention fall back on the gallery owner.

Something told Silas that he wouldn’t mind coming back here at all. Metzli seemed like a good sort.

Setting down his glass by a blank, unclaimed canvas, the zombie went to fetch a smock and loop it over his neck, watching how the others prepared for the evening’s activity and mimicking them. And, very much as expected, his skill was lacking. His peers would occasionally lean over to give him a pointer when they heard him mutter under his breath about how the paint wasn’t cooperating, still encouraging him despite the preschooler level of talent that was displayed on the canvas in front of him, but… he was enjoying it. If nothing else, it had removed the thought of his brother from his mind entirely, and the escape from anxiety was welcome. At some point, he pulled his long hair back into a messy bun, succeeding in ensuring he’d need a shower when he got home as the blue paint on his fingers tinted his dark hair.

As Metzli made their rounds, Silas gave them a sheepish grin as they approached to see his progress. “Painting only a mother could love,” he joked at his own expense, giving them a shrug. “Still, though… I think it’s doin’ the trick. Thanks again, for the suggestion, and—” He looked down at the now-emptied glass of wine, brows raised, “you’re gonna have to tell me where you got that, so I can get some of my own.”

---

With every brush stroke, the rest of the painters followed and listened to instruction carefully. Teaching wasn’t something that Metzli saw themselves doing, but there was a feeling of accomplishment when there was at least one student that did well. Tonight was not one of those nights though, and all the students were very amateur or…Silas. But given the evening he was having, they thought it best to be gentle. “Nonsense, Silas. We all start…” Metzli gestured to the painting, “…somewhere.”

A chuckle rang out and Metzli patted Silas on the shoulder. “I’ll give you the other bottle I have in my office. A little gift on me and an incentive to come back. I like you, so maybe we can be friends.”

Making one last round around the room, they walked to the front once more and finished the class with the final brush strokes on the canvas. Everyone presented their paintings, and complimented one another before packing up and shuffling out of the room, leaving the undead alone. “So what did you think? You gonna come every week?”

---

Releasing a breathy chuckle, Silas supposed that was a fair enough deal—a new friend in exchange for a bottle of wine. Graciously accepting the encouraging words of his peers before they all emptied out of the gallery, the zombie gave Metzli a sidelong glance before breaking out into his own laugh. “Well shit, I think I have to, now. I get the feeling Lorraine would hunt me down and give me an earful for giving up after the first night.” His eyes squinted in a grin as his chin tilted down toward the floor, hands bracing against his hips in a thoughtful pose.

“But yeah, I don’t see why I shouldn’t—it was fun, even though I’m shit at it.” He was compelled to thank them again, but it would have been too many times in one evening, so he bit his tongue instead. “Plus… you’re not so bad,” he teased, nose wrinkling. “Oh! But, uh… if you ever wanna see me doin’ somethin’ a little more in my wheelhouse, I play at Del’s most Friday nights ‘round ten. Sometimes we got the whole band, sometimes it’s just me, but.. yeah. Dunno how ya feel ‘bout gothic folk, but if you’ve never given it a listen, y’should stop in some time after class.”

---

“Gothic folk? Sounds like fun. I’ll visit some time and check it out. I gather there’ll be fiddle and everything?” Metzli loved fiddle as much as they loved classical violin. Stringed instruments held a special place. “Maybe we could even play a tune or two together. I actually play guitar. Mostly Mexican acoustic. I like to stay close to my heritage.” They smiled and patted Silas’ shoulder to lead him out of the room and back towards their office.

Grabbing the bottle, they turned and spoke with a more serious tone, “On a less lighter note, I would seriously consider sleeping with a salt circle around your room or even just your bed. At least until you figure out what the hell to do.” Metzli shrugged and handed the bottle over to Silas. “At least you made a fantastic friend and even got a free painting class though. Next one though, you’re totally paying. Paint ain’t cheap.” The tone shifted, just as they had planned. Things had been serious too often lately for them, and it would be nice to not have to deal with much more of it.

“Did we cure your writer’s block at all?”

---

Brightening like a kid who’d just been asked what his favorite kind of dinosaur was, Silas nodded energetically. “Hell yeah there’ll be fiddle, that’s my specialty.” Hearing that Metzli was a fellow acoustic enthusiast, his delight only grew. “Really? That’d be dope! M’always keen for a jam session. Get that though—stickin’ to your roots. My whole family is from down in the Louisiana bayous. Spent many a summer there with ‘em… definitely a significant influence on the kind of sound I make. Dixieland, that’s what I grew up hearin’.”

Following after them as the pair re-entered the office, Silas held out a hand to accept the bottle, his own boyish grin fading as the topic shifted. “Yeah…” the young man sighed, “yeah… you’re probably right. I’ll pick up some Morton’s on the way home.” The grin returned in a flash, softer and lopsided, but still a far cry from the fear he’d felt previously. A laugh was quick to follow, thumbs brushing over the label of the wine bottle as he offered Metzli a shrug. “You know what? I think we did.” Giving them a resolute nod, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Body-snatching ghost twin… that’s got some fuckin’ songs buried in it, at the least. Sheesh.” A comfortable silence passed between them for a beat before Silas puffed out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Well… shouldn’t keep you any longer. Thanks, uh… yeah.” Too much. Grinning apologetically, the zombie held out a hand to shake. “Gotta get home and take a three hour shower, since apparently I stink,” came an afterthought of a quip, married with a chuckle. “Good meeting you, Metzli. See you around, yeah?”

---

Metzli was really enjoying the energy that Silas emanated. “Looking forward to hearing your sound and maybe even playing something together.” They smiled, matching the same spark of their counterpart. Even with the overwhelming news of his long dead brother possessing him, Silas was undeterred. At least, that’s what he presented externally. Metzli knew all too well what it was like to sew together the pieces of a torn facade. A performance, a dance they understood after decades of being on that stage.

“Glad to be of assistance. Hasta luego, carnal.” Metzli gave a friendly wave, watching their zombie friend walk away with a renewed spirit. Today, they made a choice to make a new friend. Every day it seemed like they added someone new, further rooting themselves to White Crest. Rooting themselves to the first place they could ever call home.

[alienspawnwrites]

Laying Hands: Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Getting a Read

Althea fielded as many questions as she could handle that evening before Steve Rogers mercifully suggested she get some rest. The hushed conversation that started behind her before she had even left the room did not escape her notice. She wrung her hands as she waited for the elevator to arrive, heedless of the drying blood that still coated her left hand. As far as reactions, she reasoned with herself, that had gone just about as well as could be hoped. Natasha, who until now had barely said three words to Althea, had referred to her as “one of them”. That was an encouraging sign, to say the least.

It wasn’t until she had entered the elevator and turned around to push the number for her floor that she noticed Loki standing beside her. She jumped slightly as she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision, her hand flying to her chest. He turned his head to look at her, holding her startled gaze for a moment before he sighed and reached past her to hit the button for the dormitory floor. He smoothly returned to his statuesque posture, staring straight ahead, hands clasped behind his back.

When Althea had composed herself, she addressed him. “I thought you’d be with the rest of them, trying to decide what to do with me,” she said.

“My opinion on this or any other matter is neither welcomed nor regarded,” he replied, doing his best to sound entirely disinterested. Even so, Althea could hear the frustration in his voice.

She thought on his answer a moment before pressing on. “And what is it?”, she asked. “You’re opinion on the matter… on me?”, she added.

The doors opened and Loki stepped out, briskly making his way down the hallway. Althea hurried to keep up with his long strides, realizing for the first time that the two of them probably slept in relatively close quarters.

“I don’t think you are telling the whole truth. Whether it is a conscious omission or otherwise I’m not certain,” he explained, shooting her a sidelong glance as he continued down the hall. “Either way, I intend to find out.”

“What do you mean?”

He stopped suddenly and faced her, his expression serious. “Mortals do not simply possess abilities. The few that don’t rely on cheap tools and tricks are made. Rogers was engineered in a lab. Banner is the side effect of an experimental accident. Only gods possess power from birth, and you are clearly no god. So the question remains,” he leaned in until his face was mere inches from Althea’s, his eyes dark and suspicious, “what are you? Another manipulation… or something else?”

Althea balked and averted her eyes. If only Loki knew how many times she had asked herself that exact question. Hydra hadn’t created her, she knew that much. If they had, they wouldn’t have sliced and diced her for over a decade looking for answers. If it had been genetic, then either her mom or dad would have survived the car crash. Every possibility eliminated left a dozen more questions in its wake. She had no answers, not for Loki, not for the Avengers, not even for herself.

Loki hummed, drawing himself back to his full height, his eyes still locked on Althea. “Perhaps you really don’t know. No matter, that just makes things more interesting.” He turned and reached for the door behind him.

Althea blinked and turned around to see her own door behind her. So Loki’s room had been directly across the hall this whole time. The idea of being in such close proximity to the god of mischief while she slept filled her with apprehension laced with another, stranger feeling she couldn’t name. She heard him open the door and spun back towards him, determined to end their conversation on better footing.

“So does that mean you’re going to stop avoiding me? I mean, you know, if you’re going to figure me out or whatever you’ll probably have to be, well, around me now and then.”

He paused in the threshold but didn’t turn around. “Does that scare you? The idea of spending time with me?”

“I’m not the one who runs away any time we’re in the same room,” she replied, trying to diffuse the situation with some humor.

Loki’s head snapped to the side, revealing his profile to Althea. For a moment he looked as though he would chew her out, but instead, he cracked a small smile. “Not yet,” was all he said before he slipped into the dark room, the door clicking shut quietly behind him.

Althea stood alone in the hallway, still looking at Loki’s door as she pondered over their interaction. She remembered the way he had materialized a dagger out of thin air not an hour ago, the remarkable stealth he had demonstrated on many occasions, not to mention he was apparently capable of holding his own against his brother in combat. Loki did not flaunt his power, but he was no less intimidating for his discretion. If he wanted to hurt her, he was certainly more than capable of doing so. Althea knew she should be frightened, and a small part of her was, but Loki was not alone in his curiosity. She wanted to know more about the misanthropic loner, just as he wanted to get to the bottom of her.

She turned and entered her own room, thoughts of her past as well as the unknown future before her keeping her awake long into the night.

The rising sun roused Althea from a restless sleep, and soon she made her way upstairs to the kitchen. Unlike Steve, she had managed to figure out the complex coffee maker, and she set about preparing herself a cup. Warm mug in hand, she continued up to the lounge. In Althea’s mind, nothing she knew of beat the bird’s eye view of Manhattan as it stirred to life in the early hours. She often woke up early to enjoy the display over her cup of coffee from the window seats in the lounge, enjoying the quiet and comfortable quiet before the rest of the tower woke.

To her surprise, the room was occupied this morning. Looking around as she entered, she saw that nearly every member of the Avengers was present. Steve, Tony and Clint stood in a circle, engaged in what looked to be a heated discussion. Bruce stood a few paces off, thoroughly engrossed in his bagel. Beside him, Thor was eating as well, the counter beside him littered with silver Pop-Tart wrappers.

“Tell me you didn’t spend all night up here,” Althea sighed, speaking to no one in particular.

Tony broke away from his conversation to address her. “Early meeting. Bureaucrats just love dragging people out of bed.”

“Now that we know more about your situation, it’s time to fill in SHIELD,” Steve clarified. “Nat’s gone ahead to brief Fury. They’re expecting us…” he glanced down at his watch, “soon. We should get moving.” He gestured to the rest, who gathered themselves and started out towards the helipad.

“Are they going to take me away?”, she asked, her unease making her voice waver.

“We just letting them know about you, not turning you over,” Steve reassured her. “As far as we’re concerned, you’re one of us now and you’re not going anywhere.”

“We’ll be back late,” Tony said. He paused at the door before turning to Thor, who was grabbing one last packet of Pop-Tarts for the road. “Uh, maybe you should stay back. What do you say, Bob the Builder; keep an eye on that brother of yours?”

“I still think you misjudge my brother. Besides, I believe Lady Thea has proven herself capable of handling Loki,” he turned to Althea. “But I will stay if it will put you at ease.”

“No, go. I’m fine,” she said. She could see Thor was looking forward to time outside the tower. “Really,” she added for Tony’s benefit.

He gave her a hard look before relenting. “Fine. But if he tries anything, you let us know.”

With that, he and Thor followed the rest out to the helipad and into the Quinjet. Settling into the window seat she watched them fly off. Once they were out of sight she located her book, still lying where she had abandoned it the day before and set it beside her. The city had already woken up, streams of people and cars flowing through the streets like a complex network of rivers. She watched them contentedly, the rhythm soothing her nerves.

After a time, Althea turned away from the window and started at Loki standing not an arm’s length away. Her eyes flew shut as she gathered herself. Just how long had he been standing there, looking at her? Her pulse returning to normal, she looked back to him. He looked down at her over his nose, eyes narrowed and arms crossed: the picture of annoyance. She might have been offended if she hadn’t realized “annoyed” was more of a default state than a distinct emotion for him.

Now that he had her attention, he spoke. “I wish you would find another spot to do your moping. This used to be my spot,” his tone perfectly matching his posture.

She dismissed his haughty attitude. “Well there’s plenty of room, don’t let me keep you from your moping spot.” She saw the ghost of a smirk flash across his face as she turned his own phrasing against him before his features returned to their usual aloof state.

“This is merely the most ideal spot to read. I prefer the natural light.” He uncrossed his arms, revealing the small hardcover book he held in one hand. The volume looked ancient, yellow, brittle pages bound in what appeared to be worn leather.

“So do I,” Thea said, picking up her own book from where it laid out of sight between her legs and the window.

Loki’s eyebrows twitched upwards as he gave her an appraising look.

“Go on then,” she gestured to the opposite side of the long padded window seat. “There’s plenty of room and sunlight for both of us. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be studying me or something?”

He scanned the length of the bench for a moment, looking from her to the empty space and back again, before letting out a sigh of resignation and sitting down. He mirrored her position, facing her with his back against the opposite wall, and immediately brought his book up, effectively blocking her from view.

“I prefer that side,” he muttered under his breath.

She ignored him and went about reading her own novel.

For a long time, they sat together in silence, Althea stealing the occasional glance in his direction. Loki seemed entirely engrossed in his reading, apparently foregoing his search for answers about her ability. He was reclined casually against the wall, one hand holding the book against a bent knee, the other leg extended forward across the length of the window seat. His free hand rested on his outstretched leg, coming up every so often to turn the page. A few strands of his dark hair had fallen in front of his face, but he ignored them completely, his eyes flying over the book at an impressive pace. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together in concentration, but he looked altogether more at ease than she had ever seen him.

Althea was suddenly struck by how attractive relaxation looked on him. It was a pleasant contrast to the intensity he had displayed the previous night or his dismissive attitude towards the rest of the Avengers. Everyone besides Thor seemed to be on edge around the “trickster god”, and his response to their unease oscillated between indignation and detachment. Even Thor, despite his obvious affection for his younger brother and good-natured ribbing, seemed to make Loki uncomfortable. Althea realized she had never seen an expression of true happiness on him, beside the occasional small, secret smirk. He might even look handsome with a genuine smile, she thought.

“Stop,” he interrupted her meandering thoughts without looking up. “You’re being utterly distracting.”

“What?” Althea tried to hide blush behind her own text, eyes quickly returning to the words but too flustered to actually read anything. She’d been staring, she realized in a wave of embarrassment, and he’d noticed.

He raised his eyes and leveled her with an exasperated look. “If you’re not actually going to read you could at least leave me alone. I don’t enjoy being gawked at.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she countered weakly. She searched for where she had left off on the page, determined to keep her eyes from wandering back to him for the rest of the afternoon.

Althea woke to her forehead pressed against the cool glass. She was slumped sideways against the window, and her neck ached as a result of the awkward position. She blinked rapidly, trying to chase away the lingering drowsiness. She didn’t remember falling asleep. Judging by the sun’s lowered position in the sky, she had been out for a couple of hours.

She sat up straight and attempted to stretch her stiff neck, closing her eyes as we rolled her head from side to side. When she opened them again, she noticed Loki, in the same position he’d been in when she drifted off. He was no longer reading. His book sat abandoned on the seat beside him. Instead, he was looking directly at her, studying her.

“You talk in your sleep,” he observed.

Altha felt her face grow hot under his unwavering gaze. He’d been watching her sleep. The idea made her incredibly self-conscious, and oddly, a little flattered. She wracked her brain for a response.

“Oh?”, was all she managed.

“Even in your sleep, you seem determined to be utterly disruptive.”

A mix of embarrassment and frustration deepened her blush. Loki’s unrelenting rudeness was getting on her nerves, she decided. She hadn’t done anything to merit his attitude towards her. If anything she’d been undeservedly friendly. He was free to be a bitter asshole to the rest of the team; that was their business, but whatever their history, she had nothing to do with it. He was the one determined to learn more about her; he could at least show a little If he wanted to distance himself from her, then he could walk away.

“No one’s forcing you to be in my company, you know,” she snapped at him. “It’s a big building, I’m sure you can find another window to sulk about.”

His eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth shot up in a self-satisfied smirk. Clearly he was enjoying getting a rise out of her. “Ah, but as I said, this one is my favorite. Besides, I seem to remember you practically begging me to join you.” He gave her an amused, challenging look.

“I did not beg,” she argued. “And that was before I realized you’re committed to being a jerk every minute of every day. Maybe I would have told you to get lost if I’d had known how truly impossible you are to be around.” She gave him a hard look, and for the briefest second his expression shifted. Sadness? Resignation? It came and went too quickly for Althea to place it, replaced by his usual, amusement-tinged aloofness. Althea sighed. It was like he wanted her to dislike him, to push him away. In a wave of stubbornness, she decided not to let him succeed. He wanted to be difficult? Fine. She could be difficult too.

“But then again,” she sighed, cooling off, “the past few years have really lowered my bar for acceptable company.” She shot him a challenging grin of her own. “Comparatively you’re an absolute pleasure to be around.”

Loki was caught off guard. He had been called many things over the years, but “a pleasure” had never been one of them. For once, he was at a loss for words. Thea clocked his hesitation.

“Huh. So all it takes to get you to shut up is a little praise, is that it?”, she teased. “Maybe I’ll tell Tony and the others. We can all shower you with compliments whenever someone needs a break from your attitude.”

“Careful, mortal. I could snap every bone in your body without so much as breaking a sweat.” His tone was harsh, but the threat didn’t reach his eyes. They searched her face, a mixture of apprehension and bewilderment swimming in their blue-green depths.

Althea merely shrugged, letting out a humored huff as she turned her gaze to look back out the window. The sun was beginning to set, the innumerable windows of the Manhattan skyline reflecting and amplifying the last vivid orange rays of light before dusk. “I’ve had worse.”

Loki turned to admire the view as well. This was indeed his favorite spot to spend his time, particularly when the rest of the tower’s inhabitants were gone and he was left alone. It was the perfect place to post up and pass the day reading. There wasn’t much else for him to do when everyone else was gone and he was left to his own devices. As endlessly arrogant and aggravating as Stark was, he did have a fantastic array of literature for Loki to work through. Often though, Loki found himself simply admiring the city he had once tried so hard to destroy, filled with an unspoken relief that he had failed.

From the corner of his eye, he studied Althea’s face as she took in the view. It had been easy enough to come up with a reason to spend more time in her company. He was, after all, truly interested in her strange ability and its mysterious origins, but he couldn’t deny she had caught his attention long before he became aware of her healing.

She was the first human he’d met that hadn’t immediately treated him with disdain or outright hatred. She didn’t seem to know about his doomed attempt to wage war on her planet. He wondered what her reaction would be when she found out; when she learned of his past and his mistakes. Would she treat him like everyone else? Would she think him a monster as well? Of course she would, he reasoned. She would join the world in their hatred and distrust, kicking herself for ever giving a villain such as himself the time of day.

But for now, she didn’t know and she still looked at him with nothing more than curiosity and mild apprehension. He decided to allow himself to enjoy the small comfort it brought, even if he knew better than to trust it to last for any length of time.