#and all she ever talks about is this stupid trip like. every waking second or talking about how stressed SHE is over my mom and my stress

[fake-ascension]

so its probably not a gallstone issue and it might be a combo of my existing stomach problems + the stomach flue thats been floating around

im still very distressed by and it doesnt help my sibling is just. gettting on my nerves so badly. she keeps trying to buy random shit like make up and clothes right before she has a trip that shes leave for on friday

i cant be mad that shes going she did plan this months in advance but she STILL hasnt gotten her ticket which is close to 100$ plus her buying all kinds of make up and skin care stuff is just. so fucking shitty especially after i forked over my ENTIRE paycheck to my mom for rent + the car

all i told her was to stop spending any more money on nonessential stuff until after her trip so she has enough money for her ticket + food/etc in portland and then was like 'well sorry im just trying to be comfortable in my own skin' and likes DUDE IM NOT BEING TRANSPHOBIC @ YOU you dont need the make up you have makeup at home, your friend youre staying ALSO has makeup

and then she turned around at got pissed at me when i put a bottle of ginger beer (the real ginger in it helps with my stomach) in the grocery cart because she had to pay for it. when shes the one that wanted to go to the store to buy dinner for her + mom and my mom TOLD HER that she would be buying my ginger beer and soup crackers

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests! I present to you...

Eddie reacting to Steve in a crop top and super short shorts for the very first time ever as Steve's just minding his own business and doing the most mundane things ever 👀

Oh what FUN. I needed this prompt SO bad and I had fun with it. Honestly I relate to Eddie so much here: just completely feral over Steve in a crop top and shorts. Hope you enjoy! - Mickala ❤️

—————————————————————

Hawkins was hot during the summer, but that was nothing to the Florida heat.

Florida wasn’t Eddie’s idea, to be clear.

His idea was anywhere not south.

July was hot enough everywhere, why make it worse?

Apparently, he was the only one with common fucking sense.

But Steve insisted on a beach trip, and apparently the only beach that was sufficient for the kids was in Florida.

Eddie wasn’t built for this. He was pale, only owned long black jeans, and his hair stuck to his face and neck the moment he started to break a sweat.

But Steve was so excited and the kids were so excited and so Eddie was tolerating it.

Steve bought an actual RV.

When Max got out of the hospital, basically adopted her when her mom was nowhere to be found, he bought one, not too big, but big enough for everyone to have a space.

Robin took the couch, insisted on it, not sharing with anyone, not even Steve. El and Max took a bottom bunk, Dustin the other bottom bunk. Steve didn’t let Mike and Will share a bunk because he went full parent mode the second he saw them holding hands, so Will took one top bunk with Lucas and Mike took the other. Which left Steve obviously taking the queen bed in the back, and Eddie the bed with him or the floor.

So Eddie argues with himself for a week leading up to the whole long two day ride to Florida about sleeping on the floor, about maybe trying to bunk with Dustin, who kicks and snores like a grown man fighting in a boxing ring. Considered begging Mike to suck it up and share so he wouldn’t have to face what he’d been ignoring for six months now: that he was ass over head, disgustingly, write songs about him, in love with Steve Harrington.

He barely even talks to Steve, probably coming across as an asshole, but Robin covers for him, makes sure he’s given the space he needs to come to terms with the fact he has to share a bed with Steve on this journey.

By the end of the first day, he’d managed to come to terms with sharing a bed with him. A queen bed was big enough for space between them, he could wake up first so there’d be no chance of Steve seeing how hard he would be. He could make it work.

Making it work apparently meant not sleeping at all.

He didn’t even close his eyes. He felt every movement next to him, heard every breath Steve let out, every groan when he moved in a way that caused his healed but still sore bat bites to twinge.

He felt every twinge in his heart knowing that Steve was turned towards him, getting closer with every movement, and he had to ignore it.

He had to ignore it because if he didn’t, he’d turn around and pull Steve against him, play with his stupid, soft hair, and run his hand up and down his stupid, muscular, naked back.

So he was a bit tired on day two of their travels. Steve asked if he could drive for a couple hours so he could braid the girls’ hair. What was he supposed to say? No?

Not fucking likely.

So he drove, even though he was exhausted, and hadn’t drive an RV before in his life, and probably shouldn’t have been allowed near a real map for any reason other than passing it to someone else.

Robin, luckily, saw him struggling, and quickly made her way to the passenger seat to be navigator.

She didn’t say anything about it, she didn’t ask about his night, and she didn’t offer to trade sleeping spots with him. He tried not to be a little bitchy about it, but honestly, she was supposed to be Steve’s best friend, why couldn’t she sleep with him?

When Steve finally yelled to him to pull off the next exit to switch, he felt like he could breathe again.

Maybe he could take a nap in the bed since Steve was driving now.

But then Dustin wanted to talk about the campaign they’d do when they got to the campsite and Will got involved and then Mike had to add his (wrong) opinion about a trap that he was convinced Eddie would throw in. Eddie’s head was starting to hurt and they still had six hours to go.

Eddie managed to sneak away to the bedroom after they stopped for gas and lunch, slept for maybe 30 minutes, then got woken up by El, who wanted her nails painted to match her bathing suit and he couldn’t say no.

Of course, Max decided she wanted her nails painted too, and then Robin said she needed a touch up and didn’t trust herself to do it so Eddie got wrangled into painting everyone’s nails.

He barely even realized when they arrived.

But suddenly, Steve was standing next to him, smiling down at him, making Eddie want to die and also propose marriage at the same time.

“The kids are already running to the water. Wanna help me set up?”

Steve could have asked him to murder someone and he would, so he said yes.

“Cool, I’ll just change. Can you get the awning out and the chairs set up?”

“Yep, don’t take too long and make me do all the work.”

Steve laughed. Eddie laughed.

Eddie was serious, but if anyone could get away with making him do all the work, it was Steve.

So he got started on it all.

He watched Robin walking slowly towards where the kids were running along the water’s edge to keep an eye on them, all of them just a little nervous to let them out of their sights still.

He started turning the crank of the awning, already sweating from the heat and humidity, the breeze just blowing more hot air and sand at him.

He’d never been to the beach before, and he was quickly realizing why he didn’t mind that.

Once the awning was set, he opened the side compartment to pull out some of the camping chairs Steve bought for the occasion.

“Everything going okay?”

Eddie looked up to answer Steve and froze.

Steve had changed.

He’d changed into the shortest crop top Eddie had ever seen and a pair of shorts that his ass was going to pop out of the moment he bent over.

He couldn’t breathe.

Steve’s skin was just. There.

His scars, the scars that matched Eddie’s, were there.

Out in the open.

So much skin just happening right in front of Eddie’s eyes.

“Eddie? You okay? Need help?”

Eddie coughed, trying to hide the fact he was practically choking on his own spit.

“Good. I’m good. So good. Great.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, but he nodded.

“Okay, well I’m gonna hook up the plumbing and electric. Think you can get the hot dogs and buns out and start the fire for when the kids come back super hungry?”

Eddie knew he was asking him something, possibly something important, but he didn’t understand any of it. He nodded, though.

He watched Steve walk around to the other side of the RV.

So much skin.

Holy shit.

Eddie wanted to rip those clothes off of him. He wanted to taste the sweat that was dripping down his neck. He wanted to carry him back into the RV, lock the door, and fuck him into the mattress of the bed they had to share later.

He could do it. Robin would keep the kids busy. She’d understand.

But no. There was a reason he hadn’t acted on his feelings. There was a reason he’d been keeping his distance, making sure he was never alone with Steve.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice when Steve came back around the corner, sweatier than before, his skin glistening in the sun.

God, this had to be illegal. This was a war crime. This was torture.

Survived almost being eaten alive by demon bats just to die in Florida watching Steve hook up an RV.

Sounds like a sick joke by the universe, but not that hard to believe considering his history.

“Eds? You good? You look like you need some water.”

Steve was walking up to him now, using the crop top to wipe his forehead, showing off even more skin. Jesus Christ.

“Maybe I do need to cool off. Um. Let me go inside and get some water. Great idea.”

Eddie was somehow making his legs work, rushing into the RV so he could get some space before he did something stupid like kiss Steve and tell him that he loves him.

But Steve was concerned, he should’ve known he would follow him inside.

“Eddie. Hey, just relax. The heat is a lot, maybe you should get your bathing suit on and just cool off a bit. I can handle the rest of this stuff,” Steve said as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the sink.

Must’ve got the water working then.

Steve, to Eddie’s horror and delight, sat down next to him and put his arm around him, handing him the glass of water with a worried look.

Eddie took it, ignoring the way his hands were shaking, hoping Steve would ignore it too.

He didn’t.

“Eddie, shit. You overdid it. I shouldn’t have had you helping out in that heat like that. You’re still technically healing.” Steve’s hand ghosted over where Eddie’s worst scars were on his sides. “I’m sorry. Just stay in here, I’ll get the AC going so it’s cool. You can change, maybe you’ll cool off faster.”

Eddie knew the problem wasn’t really the heat. And Steve wasn’t going to stop this.

Eddie was watching the way the crop top rode up the more Steve fretted over him, the way his thighs were fighting their way out of the shorts.

He had to tell him.

Eddie pulled away from him for a moment, took a really long look at the scar on Steve’s thigh that wasn’t Upside Down related, and then sighed.

“You’re killing me. The heat sucks, but it’s nothing compared to what you’re doing to me.”

That should’ve been where he stopped. But he didn’t.

“Stevie, you’re like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. Like, hotter than Ozzy and James Hetfield combined. Which is crazy because you are nothing like them. You’re you. And like I’m me. And I’m really gay. If that wasn’t clear yet then now it is. I’m super gay. I’m also super into you. I know you’re not into guys, even if you were, you wouldn’t be into me. So like, I get that this is weird and you don’t even have to look at me for the rest of the trip. I’ll sleep on the floor or something. It’s just this outfit is sending me over the edge. I didn’t even know they made shorts that short. And that top? It’s breaking my brain. It’s leaking out of my ears.”

Steve was laughing by the end, which isn’t the worst thing that could be happening, but it certainly wasn’t the best.

“And I mean, when I say super into you, I don’t just mean stupid little high school crush. I mean like I’m in love with you. I love you entirely too much. Like, probably enough where I would be creeped out if someone loved me this much. So I think you should go back outside and let me just wallow in my self pity for a bit in here and then I’ll come back outside and pretend I didn’t just tell you the biggest secret I’ve been keeping for months.”

“Are you done?” Steve asked, no longer laughing, but smiling fondly at him.

Eddie nodded, worried that his outburst probably ruined everything.

But then Steve’s lips were on his, and his hands were in his hair, and his thighs were straddling his lap.

Eddie’s brain shut off and his body took over.

It wasn’t his first kiss by any means, but it was the first kiss with Steve Harrington, which made it more special by default.

He let his hands fall to Steve’s naked thighs, moaning into the kiss when he felt his muscles shift under his palms as he adjusted to a more comfortable position.

Steve pulled away and looked at him with droopy eyes.

“What were you thinking about out there? You were lost in your own world.”

“I was thinking about fucking you into the mattress of that bed while Robin distracts the kids.”

Steve groaned and kissed him again.

“Can we do that?”

Jesus. Steve was something else.

“Sweetheart, as much as I know you’d far surpass any fantasy I’ve had, the kids could be back any minute and we won’t have an explanation for them.”

“We don’t need an explanation if we just tell them the truth,” Steve pouted, trailing soft kisses down Eddie’s neck.

“So you wanna sit them all down and tell them their dad was fucking their mom into the mattress?”

Steve pulled away and smacked Eddie’s chest.

“No! I just figured we could say you needed a nap. Since you didn’t sleep last night.”

Eddie paled. How the fuck did Steve know that?

“Relax. I was asleep last night, it’s not like I was watching you struggle to keep distance between us. But I saw how tired you were this morning and Robin let it slip that you couldn’t get comfortable and made my assumptions.”

Eddie shook his head.

“Well then you’ll know I am actually tired. I probably could use that nap.”

Steve placed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Then you should take one. I’ll finish up outside.”

“Kinda want you with me though.”

“One of us has to be the responsible parent who sets everything up and gives the kids dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie smirked. “This is like your ultimate fantasy isn’t it? Road trip with your kids and your partner?”

Steve blushed.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I’m right! That’s why I love you, Stevie,” Eddie said before kissing his forehead. “I’ll come start the fire for the hot dogs. You stay away from me so I can focus.”

“Damn. I was gonna take off the shirt, though.”

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I am begging you to keep it on.”

“Oh. Is this like a thing for you?” Steve teased.

“So what if it is?”

“Then I’ll keep it on and you can fuck me into the mattress with it on later. How’s that sound, big boy?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“Using my own words against me? Unbelievable.”

Steve shrugged and got off his lap, much to Eddie’s dismay.

“I’ll have Robin bring the kids on a night walk along the beach later. Sound okay?”

“Sweetheart, nothing’s ever sounded better.”

[ae-azile]

If I ever catch up with my WIPs, I have (another) plot bunny in my head...

Chay is still so angry. He's angry at Porsche for lying to him and joining the mafia. He's angry at Korn for likely killing his father, taking their mother away, and making her into whatever shell of a person she is now. He's even angry at Kinn for making his brother happier than Chay has ever seen him, because that means they are never going to leave this place.

But most of all - despite how fucked up those reasons are - he is still so angry with Kim. He still won't talk to him, but he dreams about him every single night. It isn't fair.

So when he wakes up after a rare dreamless sleep, he feels grateful for about five seconds until he realizes where he is. He's back in his old room, his old house, and completely alone. And when he finds his phone plugged in on the nightstand, it is almost a year behind. If he weren't so freaked out by waking up in his old bed without knowing how he got there, he would smash his phone against the wall. The screen displaying the date he went on that college tour and first met Kim is NOT doing his brain and heart any favors. He calms down for about five minutes when he convinces himself this must be some kind of dream, one that doesn't directly include Kim yet still somehow inserts him into the overall narrative.

But Ohm calls and asks if they are still meeting at their go-to coffee shop so they can gush about Wik before seeing him perform in person - just like he had asked the day it actually happened. So Chay tells him he'd rather die, hangs up the phone, and decides to eat breakfast instead. He makes it down four steps before tripping down the rest and promptly breaking his neck.

Then he wakes up. Again. In his old bed on the day of the tour. When he decides to ignore Ohm's call and take a shower instead, he slips against the porcelain and cracks his head against the wall.

He takes a hint by the third time and goes to the college to see Kim. Kim looks as good as he did the first time and doesn't pay Chay any mind until Chay obnoxiously shouts out the answers to Kim's stupid trivia questions. For some reason, that is an offense that makes getting tased by security justified.

To give Kim a little credit, Chay hears him yelling stop before losing consciousness.

When he wakes up for the fourth time, he realizes he is going to have to go about this a little differently. He goes to the school tour, attends the concert, corrects the girl's answer, and approaches Kim after the show when Ohm drags him over to get his shirt. Chay knows there is no shirt and that Kim's signature, lessons, and expensive guitar aren't worth the heartbreak. Chay wants to tell him as much.

But Kim smiles at him kindly, no recognition in his eyes as he looks towards his friend in hopes to give Chay a shirt. It's then that it truly clicks that Kim doesn't know him, at least not yet. He may have figured out who he was shortly after meeting him and offered the lessons for information, but right now? He has no clue.

Chay is suddenly the one who knows everything and has the upperhand.

So Chay - against every instinct he has - asks Kim for those lessons once again. This time, it's going to be different.

This time, Chay is going to break Kim's heart first.

Notes for plot:

- Chay will die every so often, causing the loop to start once more. Sometimes he gets a month or two in, other times he gets a few days, hours, or even minutes in.

- Chay will occasionally get sidetracked from his mission to destroy Kim. He thinks it could be an opportunity to pull his brother away from the mafia prior to Porsche becoming so attached to and in love with Kinn. He also tries to save his mother singlehandedly. It does not go well.

- After several loops and a couple of long, interrupted bouts, Kim starts becoming more aware. He recognizes Chay in the crowd and starts breaking script.

- It becomes clear this isn't some simulation. Somehow, Kim is now getting trapped into this curse too, but it's more gradual.

- They end up having to work together, all while Kim is struggling to remember what happened in the original timeline.

- Kim and Chay end up falling in love in a way that is more authentic and based in truth - after Chay gets a few loops where he one ups Kim, breaks his heart first, and gets it out of his system.

- Other characters start becoming more aware when Chay regularly deviates from the loop in ways that won't kill him. This results in allies, as well as bringing more of the ensemble into the loop. Sorry for the pun.

*Loosely inspired by the episode "Mystery Spot" from Supernatural, but more complicated * 😂

[pollencoveredman]

thinking about how dennis doesn’t like to talk about his dreams. thinking about little dennis, waking from a fitful sleep after a particularly bad nightmare. stumbling out of bed into his and dee’s parents’ bedroom, likely only inhabited by barbara while frank was made to sleep on the couch, or maybe he’s not even in the house at all. out banging another one of his whores or away on some business trip, as always, ruining the lives of others while convincing the kids he was making theirs so much better.

dennis, shaking and scared and utterly pathetic, crying to barbara while stammering his way through a hurried explanation of what had happened. mr. tibbs hanging limply from one hand as he stands trembling in her doorway, swiftly being pushed away when he goes in for a hug because he’s just being such a baby, and barbara needs her beauty sleep.

she hasn’t got time to comfort her son after a bad dream, of course she hasn’t, no less hear about what was so terrible within said dream to have him this distraught.

the noise wakes up dee, because barbara’s dangerously close to yelling as dennis walks out sobbing, shaky on weak legs that threaten to buckle with every step he takes. she isn’t concerned, absolutely she isn’t, why would she be? it’s her brother, being a baby as usual, and she’s trying to sleep. and yet, as he walks back to his room, the crack of low light in the door that separates dee’s bedroom and the hallway widens slightly. she pokes her head out, beckons for him to come in. asks if he’s okay, and isn’t surprised when he shakes his head.

she doesn’t ask anymore questions, because it’s late, and she’s tired. merely hands him a tissue, pats the bed beside her, and she doesn’t complain when dennis curls up and starts crying against her. because of course, it’s her brother, being a baby as usual, and though she’s trying to sleep, she can’t help but rub his back gently and tuck him in, eyes full of the kind of affection that could only belong to an only-just-big sister.

he never properly talks to her about these dreams, because they only get scarier as he gets older, and the older he gets the more ridiculous it feels. but they hurt just the same every time, and dee understands this all too well. she won’t push him to tell her what happened, only nods knowingly as her hand rests on his shoulder in a comforting squeeze. gives him a seemingly reluctant hug that, deep down, really has no second thought to it, mocks him for being pathetic but comforts him just the same. and that’s always the ritual, because when it’s only the two of them, who else is going to help out?

as he’s gotten older, of course, mac has been the one to comfort him through these dreams. but it’s different — he prods and pushes, asking question after question in what he hopes is reassurance but only serves to stress him out further. he appreciates it, of course, but dee knew just how to help him through it, just what made him tick. it’s a kind of connection, almost telepathic, that could only come from being twins. but dennis doesn’t believe in that psychic bullshit, of course not.

the night after digging up barbara, however, these nightmares come back worse than ever. and dee knows this, and she stays with him for a day or two, perhaps a week — she’s lost track. because mac, quite frankly, doesn’t know what to do, and dee really is the only one who understands him in times like this.

and dennis hates to admit it, because she’s his stupid sister, and she’s ugly and she’s annoying, but she makes it better. though he’d never tell her that.

[everydayfrimmel]

August 5, 2024

"Passengers" 1000 words, modern AU

Himmel had a way of making everything sound grander than it was. 

He’d always had one, and always applied it liberally to the goal of getting his friends to do things. A sense of the grandiose and a politican’s glibness had previously talked them into taking pottery as an elective, waking up at three to hike up a mountain and watch the sunrise, and a game of Monopoly that nearly ruined their collective decade-old friendship. When Himmel wanted to do something, he made it sound like whatever he wanted to do was as invigorating as it was necessary for proper personal growth and enjoyment of one’s youth. 

This trait of Himmel’s was what had persuaded Frieren, forever the last holdout, to consent to the road trip. 

It was also the reason she was fanning herself with a sour expression in his front seat, her feet propped up on his dashboard so the weak current of air issuing from the vents on either side of her could dry the sweat on the back of her thighs from the sticky-hot leather seat. 

Himmel had said that a road trip was a quintessential and unmissable youthful experience, and also that one final hurrah before graduation took them all their separate ways (it’s already been a month) would ensure that the bonds they forged through late nights in the library and other less scholarly pursuits would persist. Frieren didn’t think there’s much chance of anything not persisting if Himmel was involved in it, but she’d liked the idea of wide-open country roads, eating snacks out of the cupholders while directing Himmel from the passenger’s seat with one of those fold-out paper maps. 

What the road trip shaped up to be instead was a lot of sweating, a great and ever-growing desire to smash Himmel’s GPS and its cloying robot voice to bits every time it spoke, a general lack of hydration across the board, trying to convince Heiter that they’d all be arrested if he had an open bottle of beer in the backseat, and motels with bedbugs. 

It was, on the whole, not very grand.  

Or, at least, it shouldn’t have been.  

Frieren, by virtue of being the only one small enough to fit, got the bathtub to sleep in instead of a bug-infested bed, and found it to be at least ten degrees cooler than the rest of the room when she hunkered down into the cool tile. No one ever bat an eyelash when she wanted to order three hamburgers from whatever regional fast food chain was most prominent. Himmel, a consummate researcher in spite of his fondness for pretending to be spontaneous, had located such roadside diversions as the world’s largest statue of a brontosaurus, the world’s second-largest Adirondack chair, and the only full-service gas station Frieren had ever seen. (It almost made up for the heat, watching some poor chump in a sweat-stained overalls pump gas into the car; at any other gas station, that would have been Frieren’s job.)  

And whenever he found such a place, and told her about it, he would look over at Frieren hopefully to see if she approved. 

Frieren was gifted at ignoring things she didn’t want to acknowledge, but she wasn’t as dense as people thought. She’d put the pieces together halfway through their second year, but, lacking a suitable answer to give him if he ever asked, said nothing about it. Largely, Himmel had been too polite to intrude into her bubble with his feelings, and Frieren had been able to ignore them. But she wasn’t stupid—no one’s graduating grades had been higher than hers—and the knowledge was always there, sitting in a dusty corner of her brain to be recalled when she saw him do something that reminded her. 

He wanted them all to have a good time, but he hadn’t gone hunting for bars for Heiter (he’s enough trouble as he is), or booked overnight stays at the kind of hotels that had gyms for Eisen (that would have been obscenely expensive)—only Frieren was given such precedence in his planning. Perhaps it could’ve been argued that she was given said precedence because she was so much more picky than the others, but she wasn’t so clueless as to assume that was it.

Himmel had more fun watching Frieren climb into the seat of a forty-foot-tall Adirondack chair and pose triumphantly with her hands on her hips for a photo (which he took) than most people ever had in their lives. Seeing her snicker at something that amused her or waste her money on the kitschiest souvenirs she could find (always the bad ones, dignified souvenirs brought no joy) seemed to make him even happier than it made her.

He was generous that way. 

She didn’t mention it until much later, on one of the nights they’d planned on driving in shifts to save money on hotels, when Heiter and Eisen were asleep in the backseat.  

“You’re very kind,” she told him, unprompted, staring out at the unchanging road. 

Himmel, curled up like a cat with his feet on the passenger seat, turned to her. “Huh?” 

“To do so much for me even though I never gave you what you wanted.” She smiled sadly. “Not many people would do that if they weren’t getting anything in return.”

“I…I am getting something in return.” 

She looked down at the steering wheel, though she knew she shouldn’t take her eyes off the road. “But not the thing you really wanted.” 

“Frieren, if you’re happy-“

“You know what I’m talking about.” 

“I’m serious, Frieren. If I can make you happy, I am getting what I want most.” 

If that were coming from anyone else, she’d wrinkle her nose and write it off as insincere, but it’s Himmel. He really was—always had been—just that good.

“I’m lucky to have you,” she said softly, and Himmel reached across the center console to squeeze her hand.

“That makes two of us.” 

[seayangwords]

On Being a Daughter

Green was my favorite color for a long time. It had been yellow, but after finding out that my mom’s favorite color was green, my favorite color became green. When I turned ten we moved into a new apartment, and my parents asked me what color I wanted the walls in my room to be painted. My immediate answer was yellow, but a part of me, the part that wanted to be more alike my mom said green. I think my parents could tell that it felt perplexing for such a young child with a new said “favorite color,” so we agreed upon painting three of the walls yellow and the last one green. It was the perfect idea. I grew up in that room, from ages ten through seventeen, and during those years I always had a sliver of green with me. 

When I entered high school, the different colors that surrounded me became disorienting, and I regretted ever having asked my parents to paint my walls yellow or green, never mind both. It was embarrassing to have friends over, and I hated having to explain to them that if I had a choice I would strip my walls of color and have them be eggshell white. I hated my mom even more for refuting my statement by saying things like “but your favorite colors are yellow and green.” It wasn’t yellow or green, it was purple now, a far more mature color.

Senior year of high school my parents told me and my brother that we would be moving somewhere else, something I had wanted to do for several years. It wasn’t just the confining walls that I had outgrown, it was the whole neighborhood. The old apartment’s exterior was getting crusty and deepening in shade by the year, and every twist and turn was unsurprising and dull. Moving out was the best news I had received since, well, the multi-colored walls. We’d be moving to Gangbuk, north of the Han River. It would suddenly be farther away from school thus forcing me to wake up even earlier in the mornings, and the trip would be grueling just to hang out with friends who lived in Gangnam, south of the Han River. None of it mattered though, I would be leaving this stupid neighborhood and my childish room.

After packing up the last of my belongings and bringing the boxes downstairs, I stood in my room for a while and thought to myself—I loved this room. I really did love this room. I looked at the butterfly mobile that we decided to leave hanging on the ceiling, directly above where my bed once was. When I laid down on this bed with the fan whirring next to me, the wind would allow the butterflies’ flight, and I’d get to see them every night as my eyes drifted to sleep. Where my head touched was the green wall and being against it felt like my mother’s embrace. It hurt to think I would never be in this room again. For a second I considered visiting here once in a while even after new people moved in. Life goes on I thought, and turned my back to the door towards a new stage in my life.

Going into my first year of college, saying goodbye to my parents after they helped move me in proved to be a rather unchallenging task.

“I already made friends,” I shooed my parents away after merely the first orientation activity. They smiled back and walked off to some place I didn’t care to ask about. I was going to be all on my own now, no longer sheltered by a cocoon, hindering me from flight. The unfaltering latch between me and my parents would finally be broken and I would be free to discover who I really am. Had I known back then that in three months time I would be calling my mom sobbing, begging her to let me go back home, would I have taken that leap without hesitation.

I found that being away from my parents, more specifically my mother, made me realize how much I am like her. I hear her voice in my own when I’m alone, talking to myself, demanding I get up and do something. I recall memories of when I would complain that she took too long to do things, just to find myself washing dishes meticulously till the point of tire. It was like a shot to the chest just thinking about how much I missed her. I wanted her to know that I still regret not spending more time with her and dad before they went back home for good. I asked her after weeks of holding it in if I could please leave this place. My mom smiled into the camera and said, “I was wondering how long it was going to take you.” Her reassuring face only felt insulting and I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t take me seriously.

“I mean it,” I protested while swallowing tears.

“Well, we just can’t allow that, so let’s hope things turn for the better. And they will get better.” There it was again, that snarky smile.

After that call, the weeks along with the gentle snow under my feet started slipping away with every step I took. It was the cathartic release I needed after months of being ripped away from everything I had ever known. I carried on with my days assisted by the reassurance I had gotten from the person I trust most. I felt motivated to stop dwelling on the things I left behind and start focusing on the person I wanted to be. 

On my 18th birthday, I decided I would get a tattoo to commemorate how far I’d come while also resembling that transitional point in my life. When it came time for deciding what design I wanted, the choice was easy—I would get a lily to represent my mom. I would now have her with me wherever I was, till the end of time. On days that I miss her more, I look down at the lily on my arm and I feel like I’m back in that room again, in a field full of yellow lilies, butterflies fluttering all around us. I close my eyes and see my mom whispering to my dog, “In the next life, we should meet again as mother and son,” before she goes to bed. It’s a silly thing to feel jealous of, but I hope she would want to meet me again too, through the next lifetime and the next. 

[eclvpses]

It was weird, that their positions were perfectly flipped from the last time they shared a hospital bed. It hadn’t been forever ago, two years at most, but it felt like it’d been - a month ago, a week. It’d been a fear Leo would never get over, still sometimes had nightmares. He could picture Philly falling out of that tree so clearly that it felt real, and the nightmares made it an impossible reality to escape. It’d been a reason why Leo was scared it’d be Philly, the one to find his body locked up, shaking, heart stuttering as it attempted to keep beating inside his chest. They’d have nightmares forever now, Leo knew it - the fact that there was nothing he could do to fix it was about as crushing as the weight on his chest. The emotional weight - Philly there, squeezing him tight was more welcome than anything else. Leo hadn’t realised he’d been floating above himself, weightless in his clouded mind and need to escape both reality and the overlying constant pain in his body, but as soon as Philly wrapped herself around them, he was back again. Leo wanted to experience every second he could with them while he was clear minded. “I love you too.” As if it wasn’t obvious, but Leo just liked saying it. And it felt like a time to say it - allowing himself the luxury of taking in Philly’s affections and her words, practically pouring safety and unconditional devotion into Leo everywhere she touched and kissed. He’d felt cold upon waking, but a simmering heat spread through him everywhere they were - a molasses that left a pleasurable slow-burn churn through him, bring him back to life. A pinkening limb that was previously believed to be dead. “I won’t - I promise, Philly.” There was no way to actually promise that Leo wouldn’t do anything stupid again, this particular hospital trip out of his hands, but they said it anyway. Just to bring Philomena some comfort, and because Leo really couldn’t imagine surviving the next time. Which meant leaving Philly - leaving them and being without them, and equally them without Leo. “If you’re okay, then why’re you talking about yourself in the third person?” They weren’t - but Leo wasn’t a genius when he wasn’t in a hospital bed. “Philly - you’re crying.” Leo had never seen them cry before. He knew that it must’ve been scary, that surely they’d been terrified, but he’d never seen them cry ever. Not even when it was them in the hospital bed. They just weren’t predisposed to emoting so openly - which wasn’t to say Philomena couldn’t exude emotions, or that they didn’t have any, but that they merely didn’t express them the same way most did. Stomach lurching, Leo began to shush them gently, pulling them back from where they’d buried them self in kissing over his face. Which Leo would never deny himself under normal circumstances, but they were far from that now. Cupping Philly’s face, he swiped his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away whatever they could. “Please don’t cry or you’ll break my heart. That’s, like, really mean, Philomena. Making all these doctors do extra work because my heart’s broken. I’m sorry - I don’t know… I don’t know how this happened, I don’t. I don’t know what happened. But it’s - never again. Ever, okay? I promise. Please don’t cry - just kiss me, okay? I’ll be okay. Actually, I heard if you kiss me right now, I’ll be able to - jump up and do a whole tap dance routine in celebration. Limited time offer, expires within the next five seconds.”

I waited for you. How long had Leo been stuck in that limbo between life and death, clarity and sleep - how many eons did he have to wait to see them again, to hear them? Philly never thought them self an empty person, even devoid of all the emotions they should've rightfully had - but Leo put them all back into their chest, expanding their lungs and pressing against their ribcage - like there'd been a place for all of Leo's excess emotions in them. Sharing a heartline, pumping the same blood - their pulses always in rhythm. Synchronized mirrors of one another - a breath of relief catching in Philly's throat as Leo croaked out their first words in hours. Their arms, slinking back into their place around his torso, tightened at the sound of his voice - couldn't help it; Leo would just have to ache a little extra - not that he would've minded when it came to them. They weren't the kind to take advantage of the fact - but it felt different now, like if Philly hadn't kept a tight grip on Leo, he'd float away from them - higher and higher up in the trees, until Philly couldn't climb any further. "You're awake," a mumbled response, a repeat of their words - Philly begrudgingly sat up, careful not to press too hard against Leo, or everything still - attached. Their hands still stayed on him - stroking chest and neck, the grooves of his collarbones and the curve of his cheekbones - lighter now, suddenly worried that they'd turn to sand beneath their touch. They just need to feel Leo - to know that they were there, alive and in front of her - breathing, alive. Breathing - alive, and there - conscious - Philly didn't want to look at Leo through a fishbowl lens, but everything felt too wide and too narrow all at once, their hand sliding up Leo's arm and to the hand stroking their cheek, clutching it in their own tight grasp. "You're back - you're here. I'm - here. You're back. I missed you too - a lot." Their words felt - clunky, heavy in their throat - heavy on their tongue, laced with the nerves Philly never knew they had. They opened Leo's palm, splaying kisses alongside it - across every fingertip, then every knuckle, suddenly as tired as he looked. "I missed you so much." It was all Philly could settle on for a moment - they knew Leo better than anyone else - rivaling even their knowledge of Elektra; they knew Leo, and they trusted him. "I know, Leo - I know. I believe you. I trust you - I love you." It felt - repetitive, because they both knew it - but Philly couldn't help but say it, forehead pressing against theirs as their arms tried to find a comfortable place to wrap around him once more. "I'm okay - I'm - I'm okay." They were - far off, and not completely there - they weren't sure where they were, anymore - but they were okay, even if their eyes felt unstable - gaze wavering in and out of focus, a wetness across their cheeks that they couldn't quite feel. "It was - too much, Leo. You can't - you can't do that to us anymore, okay? But I'm okay - we're okay." Philly shifted their forehead away from Leo's, instead kissing every part of his face that they could comfortably reach and then some - from the bandage obscuring their eye to the corners of their lips, to the side of their nose and up their jaw.

[3rensgf]

stupid/annoying, but endearing, things they do in a relationship eren, armin, jean, connie, erwin, levi, reiner, bertholdt, porco, zeke, colt, hanji, mikasa, sasha, annie, pieck

word count: 2.3k

warnings: one mention of sex in erens, reader uses makeup in jeans, mentions of injuries and dilf!reiner in reiners

notes: this is a gn!reader. there are mentions of makeup being used, but i feel like any gender can use makeup. it's not even anything serious like a beat face. just some lip gloss n mascara. chapstick too but thats not makeup. it's just one line, so you can skip over it if you would like to!

✩ eren bites you. its not even in a sexual way, he just likes to bite. they’re like a second form of kissing to him. you could be chilling together on the couch watching a movie, and he’ll just chomp on your shoulder. even when you were trying to focus on something, he swings by, bites then leaves. eren has no shame, so he does it in front of your friends too. you could be having a normal conversation with mikasa and he’ll just bite you, then the two of you carry on as if it was normal. it’s not normal. but you love it. sometimes you bite him back too. but only in private.

✩ armin gives you random things he finds. armin likes to go out and explore, with or without you. when he comes back after an adventure you opted out of, he always has something for you he found. a rock, a seashell or a cool flower are just some of the things he gets for you. if he can’t find something, he finds a gift shop to get you something instead, saying, “well, (y/n), i did find it in the gift shop.” he always looks so proud giving it to you, rambling about the story of how he found your gift. you have a small box tucked away with all the treasures he gives you.

✩ jean steals your things. whenever he comes over, he likes to mooch off your possessions. if he’s spending the night at your place and needs a shower, he’s using your shampoo, conditioner and body wash. if his lips are chapped, he swipes your lip balm to use on himself. one time you even walked in on him trying your mascara and lip gloss. another time he had your clothes on his giant frame. but he always replaces whatever he uses, venmoing you within the next few days with some cash and a sorry note. “sorry for using ur lip balm baby, buy some more <3” with $20 attached to it. you tell him that lip balm doesn’t even cost that much, but he tells you to treat yourself to lunch with the extra money.

✩ connie makes plans without letting you know beforehand. at 3am, you are woken up by an influx of messages and calls from your boyfriend. in your sleepy state you go to answer him, only to be told to get dressed and come out. he’s right outside of your house and hungry. you remind him it’s very early in the morning and you both have class. “but i’m hungry and craving burgers,” he repeats. you have no choice to get in the car with him. this can happen throughout the day, not just early in the morning. one time he whisked you away in the middle of your online class because he didn’t tell you he bought tickets to a movie showing in 30 minutes. the memories you share on these spontaneous dates are always your favorite ones with him.

✩ erwin buys you whatever you like in bulk. it’s not even an exaggeration when you say bulk. you mention one thing to him, and the next day there are boxes upon boxes sitting on your kitchen counter. “these oranges taste pretty good,” you mumble to yourself as you peel your 2nd one. erwins sharp ears hear this, and first thing in the morning he’s off to buy multiple bags of your supposed favorite oranges. it takes you days, sometimes weeks, to finish whatever he decided to buy you. you always tell him he doesn’t need to buy so much, but he never listens. though, you always appreciate how attentive he is to your likes and dislikes.

✩ levi cleans up for you and ruins your organization. it’s always a blessing when someone else decides to take on the burden of cleaning for you, and you thought you hit the jackpot with a boyfriend who loved to clean, clean, clean. but it could get annoying when you suddenly couldn’t find anything you placed anywhere. if you’re anything like me, you’re messy but organized. you know where things are. when levi comes to clean, he places things where he thinks they should go. you’re sent on a wild goose chase looking for your pencil case, only for it to be in a completely different drawer than the one you usually kept it in. despite this behavior, it’s always nice to come home from a long day from school to see your desk organized. what was once a mess of papers and other supplies have been filed into their correct places, the table wiped down from any lingering coffee stains and your supplies being organized in a way so you knew where everything was. sometimes there’d be a plate of fruit with the note, “good luck on your exams,” written in your boyfriends neat writing beside it.

✩ reiner coddles you too much. whenever you express any sort of discomfort, reiner is always rushing to your side. “are you hurt? do you need medical attention? how many fingers am i holding up?” he asks, checking you for any cuts or bruises. thank you, honey, but i’m fine. just bumped into the counter. despite that, he’s dragging you over to the bathroom to fix up your imaginary injuries. you always find it a bit much when you’re fine. it’s during the times where you’re actually hurt where you learn to appreciate it. he’s so gentle cleaning your cuts, kissing them softly once they’re dressed. you wonder if he’d be like that with your future children.

✩ bertholdt is too nervous around you. it’s been years since the two of you got together, and he still refuses to make eye contact with you. his hands get sweaty and shake when you attempt to hold his hand. he always stumbles over his words when speaking to you as he tries to find the right words to say. he even blushes when he introduces you to other people as his significant other! you remind bertholdt over and over again that he doesn’t need to be so shy around you. but you cant help but coo over him showing up for your date, flustered mess and thrusting flowers into your hand. “they reminded me of you,” he said quietly, refusing to meet your eyes. you giggle and press a kiss to his hot cheeks.

✩ porco is too cocky for his own good. he’s always parading around the house, boasting about his latest achievements. he beat colt in a video game colt was a supposed god in. he can throw a baseball farther than zeke. he can run faster than pieck. if he’s taller than you, he's always making fun of you for being shorter than him. if you’re taller, you’re not exempt from his wrath either. he’s boasting about how he’s perfect height to not hit his head on doorways. he never goes as far as to hurt your feelings, always knowing when to stop. though he has a big ego, he would let it crash and burn just to see you smile after beating him at smash bros. you laugh and taunt him, happy you beat him in one thing. he doesn’t mind, instead watching you with a soft smile on his lips and love in his eyes.

✩ zeke forces you to work out with him. and it’s not like in the afternoon to help you stretch out. it’s not light yoga or a couple minutes on the treadmill. no, this man wakes you up at ass crack in the morning to take you on a 5 mile hiking trip. you barely have any time to register what is happening around you before you’re already standing at the start of the trail with your gear. “come on! we can’t slack off!” he says, clapping his hands together. the sun is beating down on you and your feet hurt, but this man doesn’t let you stop for a break. “we’re almost there,” he says. your complaining goes out the window when he shows you the view at the top. its one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. hiking up long ass trails to see beautiful views with your boyfriend was so worth it in the end.

✩ colt accidentally turns your dates into babysitting sessions. you show up at his house with the promise of a good time, only to be met with a guilty looking colt and his little brother falco behind him. “sorry,” he says sheepishly, “gabi got sick with the cold, so i couldn’t drop him off there. i hope you don’t mind him staying.” you hide your disappointment behind a wide smile, nodding enthusiastically as to not hurt either of their feelings. you just wanted to spend some alone time with your boyfriend, and it would have to wait. hanging out with falco wasn’t actually that bad. the three of you had an amazing time together, watching tv, playing games and even baking together. if you hate kids, you can’t bring yourself to hate falco; he’s just the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. you and falco are already asking colt when the three of you can hang out again when you have to go back home.

✩ hanji is always talking. you don’t discourage them from talking about their interests. they’re very passionate about the things they love, and can’t help talking about them. its like the scene where hanji kept eren up all night talking about titans. when you’re trying to focus on something or go to sleep, hanji is just yapping away. you’re honestly amazed at their ability to never run out of things to say about the most mundane things. hell, one time they talked for an hour and a half about a building color they saw when they were out one day. but hanji just looked so happy when talking. their face would break out into a huge grin, and their arms would fly around as they told their story. it was too cute for you to tell them to stop.

✩ mikasa hovers too much. every corner you turn, every place you go to, mikasa is following. she claims she’s not clingy, but in reality she is. it’s like a cat who hates affection, but needs to be in the same room as you at all times. you don’t mind her following you into the bedroom or living room or kitchen. you had to draw a line when she tried to follow you into the bathroom. even when you’re out, she’s always following you around. you tell her it’s okay to break off from you and spend some time by herself, but she always shakes her head and follows you to your next destination. you’re always grateful for her hovering when a group of drunk people try hitting on you, whistling and telling you they’ll give you a good time. but one look at your girlfriend who showed up from out of nowhere, and they’re running away with their tails between their legs.

✩ sasha eats your food. she can’t help it. she likes to snack. she’s always hungry. and you get that. to stop things like this from happening, you have separate places to keep your food. just so sasha and you have your favorite snacks and takeout separated. you respect the rule, but your girlfriend seems to lose her reading skills when hungry, one too many times you have walked in on her with her hand deep into a bag of your chips, something you’ve been waiting to eat all week when you were supposed to watch that new horror movie on netflix with her. you huff and puff and retreat to your bedroom. sasha comes back after a few hours, looking upset with tons and tons of snacks in her arms. “i’m sorry i ate your chips,” she frowns. she sets down all the food she got on your bed. “i got all these snacks you liked as an apology. and 3 bags of your favorite chips.” you could never stay mad at her cute face.

✩ annie complains about spending time with you. “i like my alone time,” she says, brushing you off when you asked why she didn’t want to watch a movie with you. some people were introverted, preferring to spend time by themselves rather than with someone else. you were like that too; you had your moments where you didn’t feel like being around your girlfriend. but it became an annoying problem when she constantly shot down your attempts to hang out with you. when she finally agrees, she’s always finding something to complain about. but during important dates or when you’re not in the best mood, she’s always the first to remind you or initiate a hang out/date. she shuts her mouth and enjoys her time with you, not one criticism or groan leaving her lips. she would never admit it, but being around you made her so happy.

✩ pieck is always sleeping. you have to wait a few hours to get a text or call back from pieck because she’s always dozing off somewhere. “sorry sweets,” she yawns into the mic, “was taking a nap. need something?” good luck trying to reach your girlfriend during an emergency. when you come home with takeout for dinner because neither of you wanted to cook, she’s sleeping at the dinner table. when you’re watching a movie she wanted to watch, she’s snoring away, curled up at the end of the couch. during lectures you share together, she has her head in her arms and has the audacity to ask you for your notes in the end. and it’s not like she’s not getting enough sleep, no. she gets her recommended 8 hours of sleep and then some. it’s nice to have a sleepy girlfriend, though, when you’re dead tired from living. you drag your feet into the bedroom to see her about to take her nth nap for the day. she notices your zombie-like state and opens up her arms for you. the two of you cuddle and nap together, sleeping the stress away.

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[mune-writes]

vii. hellfire.

the kaleidoscope project masterlist

September, 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

I wrapped myself securely in my blanket as my eyes fluttered open. July had passed and September had just rolled in. I didn't know what day it was, all I knew was that I had locked myself up in my room since the day I came back from Oregon. Memories of that trip came flooding back to me every waking hour, all the wires and other medical equipment hooked up to my biological mother, barely keeping her alive—if you could even consider that living—faded into view, the sick, joyless laugh of Dr. Peters echoed throughout my mind, taunting me as she told me what I had done.

I couldn't even look at my own reflection after that, too ashamed, too frightened of my own face, afraid that my eyes would glitter red again. 

Most people would tell me I was blessed, chosen by the gods themselves to give me the power to rearrange molecules and summon energy with a flick of my hand. They'd be wrong, utterly, stupidly wrong if they had ever thought that. My abilities were a curse, a burden to bear for the rest of my life, in constant fear that I'd hurt those closest to me.

I completely shut everyone out, pushed all my loved ones away for their own good. I was a monster, capable of doing nothing but leave destruction in my wake. Contrary to what Dr. Owens had said about me and my abilities, I wasn't a protector, a superhero who used their powers for the greater good. 

I was made to be a weapon, biologically altered to decimate armies, my only purpose was to wreak havoc upon a battlefield, as Dr. Peters had said. 

I called her a liar, refused to believe her. Now I did, and I regret ever going there, listening to her, having my heart ripped out and my insides  tangled. But do I? Do I really? I can't bring myself to answer that.

My chest has been heavy for days now, weighed on even more as a memory of what happened when in arrived reached the front part of my brain no matter how hard I pushed it to the back. I figured my mind was stuffed full of memories, stupid painful heart wrenching memories, filled to the very brim that it managed to escape.

Once I returned home, I isolated myself, no matter how much my mother, my adoptive mother, my real mother, the mother who I didn't put into a coma, tried to reach out to me, hold me in her arms. But I was too afraid, fearful that I would somehow hurt her. She confronted me, stance stern and unyielding but voice steady and patient as it always was.

"(Y/N), please, you know you can talk to me, I'm here for you, I always am."

I knew she was, she had been with me through the most confusing parts of my life, as constant and devoted as a mother should be, what my biological mother could have been. That was why I could barely meet her eyes whenever she'd be in the room, reminded time and again of what I had done.

Seeing as I was unresponsive, she reached her hand out towards me, to squeeze my hand and bring me close as she always did whenever I was upset.

"All you will ever do is hurt people, that was what you were made for."

Dr. Peters' words flashed through my mind like lightning, quickly and rapidly, leaving nothing but agony in its wake, causing me to flinch from her touch.

"Please don't touch me," I whisper, tucking my hands behind my neck, hiding my face in my forearms as I felt my eyes glow. "I don't want to hurt you."

As I look up, guilt causes my heart to plummet to my stomach when I see hurt etched onto her features, her usually soft and kind eyes downcast as she sighed, taking her hand away.

"Okay, take your time, love. But don't even think for a second that I will ever leave you."

I close my eyes as I bring myself back into the present, clawing myself out of my own suffocating thoughts. The sunlight that filtered into my room left a bitter taste in my mouth as I remembered the dejected tone of Robin's voice over the phone, coming up with endless excuses whenever she asked me to hang out with her; the way I shut my eyes tightly as I covered my ears with my pillow that time Eddie had come to my house, hearing his crestfallen 'oh' when my mother told him I didn't want to go out.

No matter how alone I felt, it was my own doing, I had no one to blame but myself.

As night soon fell and my room grew dark, the shadows grew ever bigger, as if they were closing in on me, playing tricks on my mind. I wasn't afraid of the dark, but I was deathly afraid of silence, the kind that made your ears ring, the kind that felt so thick you could use a knife to stab through it.

It reminded me too much of the days I had spent in the cell for a room I was provided with in the labs, my mind growing numb with boredom and nothingness. I hated them all for throwing me in a cage to rot, but this time, as I locked myself into my room and pushed everyone away, the cage I put myself in were for their own safety.

My gaze turned towards the door as I heard a knock. Since I had isolated myself, my mother came to my door three times a day to leave me a meal, always writing me sweet notes of reassurance. I kept each note tucked away in my nightstand.

I cracked open the door and picked up the tray of food. She made my favorite, leaving me two juice boxes. I smiled at the memory, our initial meeting when she had gifted me a bunch of juice boxes because she noticed how much I liked them.

Another knock sounded at my door.

"Yes?"

"(Y/N), can we talk?" Came the concerned voice of my mother, soft and tender.

I close my eyes, whispers resonating throughout my skull as I leaned my back to the door. I felt the buzz of energy in my hands as they were engulfed with a red aura, clutching them to my chest, praying for it all to just go away.

"I can't.." I whisper, so quietly I don't even think she can hear me.

But she does.

"You—you don't have to come out. I just, I missed you." I don't even need to see her to feel the ache in her heart as I heard her voice falter.

"I miss talking to you, reading with you, hearing you laugh. I know it must be hard on you, whatever it was you found out on that trip, but I'm here for you, (Y/N), and as much as I want to be there for you, help you, I can't do that if you won't let me."

I let out a shaky breath, gritting my teeth together to prevent a sob from erupting in my throat.

"You mean the world to me, (Y/N), and it hurts me to see you hurting, knowing I can't do anything."

Throughout all the fear I held inside my heart, I searched hard and deep for some sort of courage, to harden my resolve and open the door and throw myself into my mother's arms.

"I-I heard you," I say, slowly, I don't find courage, all I find is another memory. "I heard you that day, when I met Joyce and Will and Jonathan. I always wondered how quickly you adopted me, fostered me, when I was told it would take years for that to happen. So why? Why did you take me in?"

A moment of silence passes before I hear a sigh from the other side of the door.

"You remember when you asked me about dating people?" I hear a soft chuckle as she says that, tittering as well, that moment fresh in my mind as she brought it up. "I told you I didn't want to get married, never really did. But I knew I wanted kids."

I twiddle with my fingers as I listened to her intently, loud and clear despite the door that divided us.

"I tried to adopt, to foster, been through all the orientations, but—I don't know, I felt like I wasn't ready. Until I met you," the weight I felt on my chest seemed to lighten at her words. "I knew you needed someone, I told you I knew what that was like, to be alone your entire life, my parents passed away when I was little. I was left with my aunt, who wasn't the best person. For most of my life I was guarded, too afraid to care. Until I found my passion in medicine, knowing that I somehow made a difference in people's lives opened up my heart.  It was hard unlearning all that, but I did, slowly. And the moment I spoke to you, got to know you, I knew that you needed someone. So you wouldn't end up like I did."

Finally, I find a drop of courage within myself as I stand, unlocking the door with a click, creaking softly as I opened it.

My mother held her arms wide open, welcoming and nurturing. That was when I knew how truly unwavering and unconditional her love for me was as she held me in her arms.

The shadows that clawed at my mind, the ghosts of my past that hung around to haunt me dissipated as I felt the warm embrace of my mother.

....

I had a week left before school, unsure how to spend it since I've been avoiding my friends left and right, so I spent most of my days reading and making art.

I sat at my desk, scribbling furiously at my paper as I sketched an idea that randomly came into my mind as I waited for another piece to dry. My room was a mess, surrounded by gesso and charcoal and cups of dirty paint water because I was too in the zone to replace them (and I also may or may not have felt lazy). I had just finished sketching out a flower that crawled from a messy, bleeding, volcano heart when I heard a tap on my window.

My eyes glow involuntarily, taken by surprise at the sound, whispering a soft 'shit' when I noticed I had accidentally scorched the paper when my suddenly fingers fizzled with energy.

I huff, standing from my hunched over position as I walk towards my window, figuring that a bug was buzzing around, trying to get in. I jolt, stupefied as I saw the infamous grin of none other than Eddie Munson.

I scramble to open my window.

"Jesus, Eddie, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I could be asking you the same thing, toots," he grunts as he fumbled through my window, very ungracefully crashing onto the hardwood floor with a thump. "Why've you been avoiding me?"

I reach my hand out to him, helping him to his feet.

"It's not just you." I mutter, unsure what to say.

"And here I was starting to think I was special." He says sarcastically, placing a hand over his chest to feign hurt, but I knew the look in his eye was genuine.

"I'm sorry, I just, I haven't been in the right state of mind lately."

"Good to know you've finally realized how batshit crazy you are." He nods.

I shove him lightly. "Shut up, weirdo."

"I'm the weirdo? Speak for yourself," He snorts, ruffling my hair. "Got paint all over your clothes and face like you're a regular Jackson Pollock."

I laugh at his antics, swatting his hand away from my head as my cheeks burned. I always reacted that way whenever he touched me, butterflies swarming and the tips of my ears flushing like a lovesick teenager—which I most definitely was not, I think. Whatever was between him and me was strictly platonic. I brushed off each of his shows of affection for playfulness.

"So," he starts, hands on his hips as he quirked a brow at me. "You gonna tell me why you've been holed up in your room for weeks?"

I bite my lip, unsure whether or not to tell him the truth, whether he could even handle it. "It's..complicated. I'm sorry."

"Well," he blows a breath through his mouth, causing his lips to form a fart in noise, which I laugh at. "I can think of some ways you can make it up to me."

I raise a brow at him. "Yeah? Hit me."

"Just follow me, alright?" He says before he's back to slipping out my window, just as clumsily as before. He looks back at me, gesturing me over when he sees my hesitation. "Come on, Willows!"

I shake my head, my tongue poking out of my mouth as I smirked. Leave it up to Eddie Munson to finally get me out of my house.

....

We rode in his van, aimlessly driving around Hawkins until we reached a clearing, fields of grass with wildflowers that poked through it sheened silver as the light of the moon gleamed.

"What're we doing here?" I turn to Eddie as he opens the door.

"Thought you'd like to go moon watching, maybe hunt for ghosts and spooky shit." He smiles as he helps me out.

"Pretty sure we're a few months early for that." I nudge him with my elbow.

"Why? Don't ghosts just exist everywhere?" He shrugs, slinging an arm around my shoulder as we walked through the grass.

"Yeah but it's be easier to find them on Halloween, y'know, when the veil is thin and all."

He scoffs as he plops down on the ground, splaying his legs out while he rested his head on his hands. "Never took you for the superstitious type, sweets."

I roll my eyes at him as I take up my own spot, the grass felt soft and downy against my aching back, maybe I needed to improve my posture.

"Eh, I'm a little stitious." 

Eddie cackles at my joke, nudging me with his knee. "That was a good one." He holds a hand up for a high-five.

"I know right?" I slap his hand, and for a moment I feel his hand linger against mine, pulling away quickly as I looked away. It was as if my hands fizzled with electricity as ours collided, but as I look to my palm I saw no red glow.

"Hey," he gets up, propping himself on his elbows. "You okay?"

I shake my head. "It's nothing."

"Definitely not nothing if it's part of the reason why you've been pushing Robin away, too."

I turn to him, puzzled as my eyebrows furrow. "You—you talked to her?"

"Yeah I mean, I wanted to check how you were doing, even if you didn't talk to me, so I figured Buckley would be the next best thing." He fishes a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket accompanied by a lighter. I watch as his lips wrap around its butt as he flicks on the lighter. I tear my gaze away before he notices.

"Oh," I mutter softly. "Sorry, it's just, yeah, like I said, it's complicated." I hug my knees to my chest, resting my head.

"Well, I'm here for you, as much of an idiot as I make myself out to be, I give pretty good advice." He says as he takes a puff of nicotine, blowing the smoke on the other side so the breeze didn't let it float towards me.

I arch my brow at him, incredulous. "Yeah? You mean like that one time you helped me smuggle a kitten into school? Or wait, maybe that one time you dared me to jump into the lake for shits and giggles might've been a better example of your sage advice."

"Silence, young Padawan," Eddie says as he raises his hand right in front of my face, causing me to snort as I shoved it away.

"You're not that much older than me, you know."

Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. "As far as I know, I'm practically a gazillion years older than you, Willows."

An image pops up in my mind, my real birthdate typed down on my case file.

"Actually, I uh, just found out recently that I'm technically older than I thought I was,"

He cocks his head at me, almost bird-like with the way he stares at me curiously. "What do you mean?"

I sigh, shaking my head. "I was actually born in like, '68 so.."

Eddie's eyes grow wide before he slaps his hand on his forehead, throwing his head back in laughter, smoke rising from his mouth as he held the cigarette with the corner of his lips. "Damn, you are old!"

I flick his forehead, sticking my tongue out at him. "Not as old as you, grandpa!"

We both giggle like children as we both attempt to poke each other playfully, cigarette stick long forgotten as he stubs it out on the grass, swatting each other's hands and dodging each poke as we goofed around. Eddie's hands were quick to tickle my sides, causing me to squeal as I fell back, guffawing so hard my stomach hurt.

I shut my eyes tightly, holding my hands against my chest to ensure they didn't accidentally buzz him with energy—which has happened once before, quickly covering up the mistake by telling him it must've been static energy.

"Stop! Eddie I swear, I will actually bite you!"

“Why? So you can turn me into a werewolf? Don’t mind if I do!”

He doesn't stop his ministrations, so I snapped my jaw at him threateningly, causing him to flinch, which then only made him harden his resolve as he tickled me mercilessly. Having had enough, I wrapped my legs around his waist, flipping us over so I was on top. I swiftly pinned his wrists down, my chest swelled with pride as his once defiant smile faded into one of surprise.

"I said stop." I say, breathless from laughter. He stared up at me, brown eyes gazing deeply into mine before his gaze flickered to my lips—only then I had noticed how close we were, noses almost touching as I felt his breath on my face.

I feel my cheeks warm, releasing him from my grip as I slid off of him. "Sorry." I mumble.

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart," He rubs the back of his head. "Though I will say, next time you plan on pinning me to the ground, maybe—just maybe, give me a warning?"

I giggle, rolling my eyes as I nudged his shoulder. "Whatever."

A moment of silence passes between us, no tension filled the air, no incessant worry to fill up any awkwardness with idle chatter, just peaceful, comfortable silence. The only sound that filled the air were the hum of crickets. We lay down on the grass, admiring the moon and the stars.

In that moment, everything seemed to be okay. My worries far behind me as I laid beside him, pointing at groups of stars and making up our own constellations. Stars and stars, nights and nights, wandering the small world of Hawkins, but in that moment, we were in our own world, a world too big and bright and too full of stars for sleep.

It's almost the early hours of the morning when  he parks in front of my house, opening up the door for me, ever the gentleman, as always, his fingers brushing the small of my back as he helped me back up into my room through the window.

Before I can wave him goodbye and goodnight, his eyes light up as if a lightbulb switched on in his brain.

"Oh shit, almost forgot!" He sprints towards the direction of his van, I cock my head in confusion when he returns, something in his hand as he tosses it over to me, which I catch—barely, it hits my face. Damn you Munson and your deadly throw.

I unfold it, it was a shirt, crumpled and unkempt, but my eyes widen in realization as I saw the logo. Hellfire Club.

I remember how Eddie had pulled me by my hand that one time he had spotted me eating by myself, nose tucked securely between the pages of a book. He forced me out of my recluse, as he so often did, introducing me to his friends. We spent that lunch hour sketching and doodling various potential logos for his club, muttering critiques into my ear as he drummed his ringed fingers on the table. 

"You're invited to our campaign!" He whisper-shouts, loud enough for me to hear but quiet enough not to wake my mother.

I wave at him as he jogs off, sending me a lopsided grin as he waved back.

I went to my bed with a smile on my face that night.

....

March 21, 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

I jolted forward in my bed, waking up in a cold sweat as I recalled the nightmare I just had. A nightmare not built upon past memories, this one seemed far too real despite the otherworldly elements tied to it. Glowing red portals, the sickening sound of something snapping, and the sound of a ticking clock resounded in my head as I ran from a shadowy figure.

I closed my eyes to calm me down, evening out my breathing as I felt my fingers spark. I lay back onto bed, promising to myself that I'd get a good night’s sleep, for the sake of the last chapter of the sadistic campaign Eddie had designed. I needed energy for that.

Being friends with Eddie meant indulging in his interests, Dungeons and Dragons being a particularly big one that occupied his mind almost always—apart from metalhead music, his hyper fixation on guitar, and other miscellaneous nerdy hobbies. I didn't mind, I loved seeing his eyes light up whenever he talked about something he was passionate about, my eyes tracing over his smile lines in adoration.

"Can't believe you're genuinely friends with that dude, (nickname)." Steve grumbles after having had a strange conversation about Robin, the object of her affection (Vickie), and boobies.

"You know, if you only got down from your high horse and actually talked to him, you'd see he's not too bad." I hum as I zip up my backpack, finishing some last minute homework.

"I beg to differ." He rolls his eyes, causing Robin to elbow him.

"Then beg." I say flatly, face completely blank of any emotion.

"I—excuse me?" Steve shakes his head, a dumbfounded expression on his face as he looks at me through the rear view mirror.

"You're excused." I smile as I apply a coat of strawberry flavored lip gloss.

We eventually make it to school, giving Steve a pat in his shoulder as a quick thank you before Robin and I got out, laughing with one another as we joked about something I couldn't quite remember while we headed towards the gym for the pep rally.

"Good luck Robin!" I call out to her as she stalks towards the other band kids, giving me a smile and a wave.

The pep rally came and went, and soon I found myself sat beside Robin, scribbling in my notebook, glancing at Eddie now and again as he made his theatrical speech, snorting at the face he made at Jason. 

Robin side-eyes me as she nudged my arm. "See something you like, Willows?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Shut up."

She chuckles, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, did I tickle a heartstring there?"

Memories of that night with Eddie stirred my heart, the way his gaze flickered to my lips caused my face to burn. I quickly turn away from her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Riiight." Robin hums, grinning. She toys with the sleeve of my top, the front of it displaying the logo for the Hellfire Club. "Nice shirt."

Even now, as I stood in the dimness of the club room, preparing for the campaign, Robin's shit eating grin is plastered in my head, burned into my skull as I silently fumed. Stupid Robin and her stupid teasing. Why was I so affected anyway? 

I stumble as I bump into something—someone, rather, who put their hands on my shoulders to steady me.

"Woah, easy, babe, you'll trip over your own feet if you don't watch where you're going."  Eddie chuckles before he makes his way over his throne, sat like a true Dungeon Master, intent on making this campaign a treacherous adventure through hell.

I shake my head at him, only for my gaze to fall upon the door as Mike and Dustin walk into the room, a girl standing between them who I presumed to be their sub, since Lucas had his big game tonight.

"Absolutely not." Eddie's voice echoes throughout the room.

"You asked for a sub, and we delivered." Dustin gestures towards the girl.

"This is Hellfire Club, not babysitting club." Eddie comments, causing the others to laugh while I arch an eyebrow, already interested as the girl who glared at him.

"I'm 11, you long-haired freak." She fires back, causing my eyes to widen at her confidence.

The standoff ensues, Eddie walks over towards her, taunting her, to which she responds with a snide comment, causing Gareth and Jeff to snicker, which earns them a glare from Eddie.

"What's your class and level? Level 1 dwarf?"

I roll my eyes playfully as the others laugh, crossing my arms across my chest. 

"My name is lady Applejack," the girl who we now knew as Erica, Lucas' younger sister, starts, completely unfazed even as Eddie towers over her. "And I'm a chaotic good half-elf rogue, level 14. And I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow, agonizing death. So, we gonna do this? Or we gonna keep chitchatting like this is your mommy's book club?"

I let out a chuckle, shaking my head as I nodded towards her. 

"I like her."

"Good to see someone in this club has a brain." She remarks with a shrug.

Eddie smirks, holding his hand out for her to shake.

"Welcome to Hellfire."

....

After a relentless, absolutely brutal game, I finally got the chance to rub a win into Eddie's stupidly adorable—er, okay-looking face, as Erica rolls a perfect 20, signaling a critical hit.

Long live the power of women.

I walk out the doors to the school, laughing, rejoicing and celebrating with the others at our victory. Eddie wraps an arm around me and I have to use all the willpower within myself not to explode as his eyes find mine.

"Had fun?"

I shrug. "Guess you make a pretty good Dungeon Master, Munson."

"Don't I know it?" He chuckles as I nudge him. "Hey, I gotta go, wanna hang out tomorrow?"

"You mean 'would I like to watch while you practice the solo to Master of Puppets'?" I arch a brow at him, causing him to pat me on the back. "Sure, pick me up whenever."

"You know me way too well, Willows." He shakes his head as he removes his arm from my shoulders. 

That night, as I lay on my stomach, book in hand as I immersed myself yet again in another world, I let out a hiss as I felt my head suddenly start to pound. I massage my temples, a migraine as worse as the ones I had when I used to be forcibly tranquilized racks my brain.

Visions engulf my mind, red lightning against dark clouds, bat-like creatures screeching as they swarmed, a house in fractures that floated in the air, a disfigured creature walking towards me.

Chimes of a clock echo in my ears as my head continues to throb. Then it fades away in an instant.

My eyelids flutter open, I feel my fingers twitch with energy, causing me to rub them until they stopped.

My stomach turns as I feel the hairs at the back of my neck stand, my intuition screamed at me that something was wrong.

I shuddered, remembering the dark figure in my dreams, the glowing red portal that split the ground open.

What the hell was that?

....

taglist: @preciousbabypeter @iiheartbowie @beebeerockknot @nightless @lovelydivs @r-royce @lunar-flwr @naughty-koala07 @slutforsteve @chaoticvigilantes @loudbluepancake

[wormstacheangel]

When Dean finally rescued Cas from the empty, he expected a happy reunion. He envisioned a strong hug like the first time he had escaped. He expected a long-awaited kiss and repeated confessions that weren’t said with sorrow or heartache. He expected to find the same Cas that was taken, but that would have been too easy.

Cas was left awake, alone, and in complete darkness for months on end.

So when Dean went into the empty, ready to wake up the love of his life, he found Cas curled in on himself—staring blankly out into the void of nothingness. He whispered something so softly and quickly that Dean couldn’t pick up on the actual words, but it sounded familiar. Almost like he was humming a song.

Dean tried to get him to stand up on his own, but he quickly realized that Cas wasn’t even looking at him. His gaze was distant, seeing something Dean can’t even imagine. He then noticed the white film over his eyes dimmed the once bright blue.

His fingertips gently traced over the skin he had only dreamt of touching for months before he took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself. With that slight pause, Dean used whatever desperate strength he had and dragged Cas back to the portal.

Back home.

As they got closer, the light of the portal seemed to startle Cas, and he started to shove Dean away. Dean had to put Cas down so he could take his green jacket off and place it over Cas’s head to calm him before he slowly continued to walk through the portal and into the bunker’s library where Jack, Rowena, Eileen, and Sam were waiting for them.

When they walked through, Dean quickly shushed them as he fell to his knees with Cas still in his arms, hidden under the jacket, and covering his ears at the sudden loud voices surrounding them.

Dean looked around at his family, all sharing the same worried glances knowing they were on the same page. Cas’s welcome home party would be pushed back until further notice.

Cas didn’t cry. His expression didn’t change much at all. All Cas did was sit or lay on Dean’s bed with the lights off. All but the desk light. It was an old lightbulb, so the light wasn’t a bright white like the rest of the place. Instead, it illuminated a soft golden glow against the wall.

Cas squinted at it at first, blinking so inhumanly at it, until all Cas did was stare at it. Whenever Dean made any move to turn it off or even just get near the lamp, Cas made a little whine at the back of his throat.

Little noises were the most Dean can get out of Cas. At least it brought him a little relief. It meant Cas could see him at that moment.

Cas still did that rapid talking or singing whenever it was a little bit too quiet. It made Dean wonder if Cas knew he was out of the Empty. Especially during those times when he would stare right past him, unblinking with cold eyes.

It was only the end of the second week when Dean broke down.

[continue under the cut or on AO3]

He didn’t mean to. He was trying so damn hard to keep it together, especially in front of Cas, but one night he just lost it. He can blame the lack of booze in his system, or as he wants, he can blame Sam, who came up to him about a stupid case. It pissed him off more than it should have. The fact that Sam even believed for a second that he would leave the bunker while Cas was like-well the way he was, just gave him enough of an excuse to raise his voice at someone.

Eileen had to step in and tell him to cool off.

Dean stormed off without a glance back and went to his room. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed beside Cas. He laid on his stomach as he wrapped one arm over the top of Cas’s waist, scooting close enough so that he could rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. He then opened his mouth to wish him goodnight just like every night, but something in Dean just broke.

He felt the pressure rise up his throat as he tried to hide his face into the familiar body beside him, but the sob still came.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long to go get you. Fuck, Cas, please.” Dean took a shaky breath, sniffling as he reached to hold Cas’s hand closer to him. “We missed- I...I missed you. I missed you so much, Cas.” Dean brought Cas’s hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckles before letting the hand rest by his head. His eyes closed as he sighs, “I love you. So come back to me, okay?"

The only response Dean got was a squeeze of the hand, which was enough hope for the future, and more than Dean could have ever asked for at that moment.

As the days went on, Cas didn’t change. Literally and figuratively. He was still an angel, so there was no need for him to shower or brush his teeth, but Dean swore that Cas’s facial hair was growing, so he liked shaving him at least once a week. Cas seemed to like it by the humming noise he made.

They did learn a couple of things as the days went on.

One, peace and quiet are not what they strive for.

It only brought Cas anxiety, and his humming or singing became much louder and more desperate. They fixed that problem with a Bluetooth speaker constantly playing music in the background, a playlist Jack made mixed in with a playlist Jack helped Dean make. It made the humming stop, and Cas started to roll over in bed. He even sat back against the headboard with his eyes closed a few times.

A month after Cas got back, Dean's phone died in the middle of the night, and the silence must have gotten to him. He covered his ears while he started muttering to himself again. Dean woke up and pulled Cas to his chest while softly sing to him in his still half-asleep phase. He didn’t know why that was his first instinct, but he went along with it cause it started to calm Cas down. Then, Cas held him back for the first time—tucking his head right under Dean's jaw and relaxing.

Dean tried not to stiffen at the touch; if he were honest with himself, he would admit he was trying not to cry because he was busy singing. Busy, not wanting to disrupt this moment.

That night Dean sang all night long until Jack checked on them in the early hours and connected his phone.

Two, always have a light source on.

The lamp was the first one they had. Cas constantly wanted it on, but it bothered Dean all the time when he wanted to sleep. So they bought a cool starlight projector, Sam’s idea, that kept the light on the cement ceiling and not on Dean’s face. Cas seemed to enjoy it as he laid on his back, watching it all night, letting Dean curl up on his side as he slept through the night.

Three, never leave Cas alone.

Nobody wanted to leave Cas alone for more than a minute if they could help it. So they made plans to keep him company at all hours of the day. Of course, they weren’t crowding him. They all came in one by one, except for Dean, who would say, “This is my room. I get to come and go as I damn well please.”

Sam liked to sit by Cas's side and talk nerd like they usually would while cleaning his guns or doing research to help another hunter. He would even pause during the one-way conversation to give Cas some time to answer or try to imagine what Cas would say in that situation. Sam was always calm, wanting to keep it as normal as possible while Cas just stared at him, sometimes his eyebrows knitted together, and Dean had to excuse himself as he felt his chest tighten up.

Eileen sat by his side and watched shows she liked while she talked to Cas out loud and signed so he could hear her voice. Even then, she didn’t talk much. Instead, she let the laptop do the talking as she pets Cas’s hair while sitting on the chair by the bed.

Jack came in the most next to Dean. He liked reading to him or talking about how his skills as the new God have improved thanks to Amara.

"Dad, I hope you'll be proud of me." Jack once whispered to Cas, who was having a bad day, checking out more than usual as he stared off into the distance. Eyes wide and almost screaming.

It was almost the end of the second month when another big mile-stone happened.

Jack was lying in bed with Cas while Dean was at his desk, cleaning his guns obsessively again. Jack was reading him a book he bought during his recent trip to the bookstore with Eileen, it was a Star Wars story.

Jack was getting into the book as he read slower but louder during a big fight scene. He got so excited that he even jumped up and looked back at Cas, "Did you hear that, Dad? He won!"

Cas smiled back at him- a genuine smile- and Dean almost dropped the piece of metal in his hand while Jack froze, his shoulders tightening up while he scrunched up his lips as if trying to hold back his cry.

Instead, he quietly composed himself as he asked in a shaky voice, "You want me to read the rest?"

Cas only blinked at him, keeping the slight smile, and Jack took it as a yes. Jack sat beside him again with a big smile plastered on his face, wiping his eyes every other word, as he rested his head on Cas's shoulder to continue reading. Dean didn’t miss when Cas tilted his head down to rest his cheek on Jack’s hair.

He had to excuse himself again.

After that day, Cas slowly started to open up a little more.

Once Dean woke up with Cas out of bed. Dean was already in full panic mode, his shoes on the wrong feet and jacket inside out as he called out for Sam.

Then just as quick as the panic came, relief flooded him when he found Cas in the kitchen trying to make coffee. He turned towards Dean and gave him the smallest of smiles, but it filled Dean with such solace that he just dragged himself to Cas’s space. Dean held his arms open to press Cas into him, and without a second thought, Cas fell right into him as if it was an everyday normal occurrence.

That was the start of Cas now being up and around the bunker. It was like when a baby starts crawling, everyone keeping tabs on the baby’s first steps, except this baby was an eon old celestial being.

The library, Dean’s room, the Dean-cave, and the kitchen were Cas’s favorite places just to sit. He always had Dean’s headphones on, softly playing music, just in case it went quiet, and it took a while for him to be able to walk around without those.

It was the sixth month when Cas wished Dean a goodnight first and then added, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean fought the lump in his throat, but Cas instantly pulled him in, his arms wrapped securely around him. He had so much he wanted to say to Cas just to hear his voice again, anything to listen to his voice again, but instead, he kisses Cas’s chest before saying, “I love you, too.”

Days came and went. Sometimes it seemed like Cas was getting better as he talked a little more, but then those days would come when he would just stare off into the stars on their ceiling. Not moving an inch or bothering to fake breath like he liked. Those days the music was a little louder, and Cas held on to Dean a little tighter.

“I don’t want to go back. Please,” Cas pleaded as he stared wide-eyed at the darkness in the corner of their room. As if he was having a nightmare with his eyes wide open. “Please don’t make me…I-I don’t want to be in the dark again!”

Dean took Cas’s face in between his hands to hold his gaze. Only talking when he knew Cas was seeing him. “It’s okay, Cas. I got you. Nobody’s taking you away from me ever again.”

“Promise?” Dean felt Cas’s grip at his shoulder, holding him with desperation.

“Promise.”

That’s how Cas became human.

The nightmares have him waking up screaming some days, but at least Cas knew he was safe from the Empty’s clutches.

He was going to live his human life being loved and taken care of, and Dean was happy to say he felt Cas was doing the same for him.

[norvillc]

"Cold feet?" Shaggy had to laugh, he couldn't help it, a chuckle slipping out in spite of all of the thoughts swarming in his head. Though he felt bad for worrying her, the idea was so absurd it was... funny. There was not, there had never been, a moment he was uncertain if he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She was his best friend. He had known it from the moment they met, the way he'd been drawn to her, that no amount of time spent with Velma would ever be enough. If the two of them spent every waking hour together and lived to be 100, he would still wish they could have made more memories. "Of course not. Like, my feet are practically on fire." Placing his hand on top of hers, he offered her his signature goofy grin. "I was sorry for waking you." Among other things he wasn't sure how to voice, and definitely didn't want to run her up in the middle of the night to talk about. "I was just feeling... anxious. Not about the wedding. I mean, maybe a little worried about messing up my vows and saying something stupid like my waffle-y leaded wife... or dropping a ring down a vent... or tripping on the steps..." Great. Now he was anxious about the wedding. "But not you," he added after a second. "Never you."

Before Evermore Velma had always been a light sleeper. It's like she could sense when something in the room shifted. She'd wake up constantly at least every hour or so. Not for any particular reason, it was just something she had assumed was normal her whole life. It wasn't until she moved in with Shaggy that she realized it must've been the stress and anxiety causing her insomniactic sleep. Because now she slept like a rock. Which is why she probably didn't notice Shaggy's absence. Had Scooby climbed into bed with her whilst he was gone, chances are she wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Only waking once she felt the warmth of his hand upon her shoulder. She blinked slowly, first offering a sleepy smile, but quickly turned to a concerned expression once she processed his tone of voice. Even his expression was off, not like his usual self. The expression was familiar, but not one he wore frequently since they had been teenagers. "I love you too..." She murmured, pushing her bangs behind her ear only for it to fall back in front of her chocolate eyes again. "But what are you sorry for?" She asked, leaning up so that her weight was shifted onto her elbow. "Y-You're not getting cold feet, are you?" Velma teased, but for a moment she wondered if he really was. It wasn't like him to look so impassive.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hey! I read for dad! Lucifer post and seeing that your requests were open I wanted to know if I could ask for a second part to it, maybe how things evolve between Lucifer and his child and your relationship?

If not, could I request a similar scenario (the dad angst) with Mammon? Thanks a lot!

Much Better Off (Dad!Mammon x F!Reader)

A/N : Wew boy, at this point the only brother's who haven't been made into shitty angsty dads are Leviathan, Satan, and Beel (who already has a dad!fic I just can't make him an asshole... I just can't see it, he's a teddy bear, he would never do anything to hurt MC) Word Count : 3K Warnings : pregnancy; maternity; children; babies; child birth; labor; angst

Mammon would do anything for you, that much was made very clear. He loved you wholeheartedly, he was devoted to you, he was the perfect boyfriend all around. That’s why you weren’t worried, you felt like you didn’t have to be worried, you assumed that he would be there with you, for you, standing right beside you as you both went through this together. Who would have thought that this was the one thing that he didn’t want to take part in with you? Not you…

“Are ya kiddin’ me!? I ain’t ready for a damn kid! Look at me!” He shouted as you sat on the edge of his bed, twirling your fingers as you waited for him to stop ranting. The worst part was that you hadn’t even told him the news, you had just asked him how he felt about having a child together. Seeing his reaction made you want to turn, walk out now before he got any more upset than he already was. “Why’re ya askin’ anyways? We don’t need no kid, we got each other. How we gonna do anything with some baby screamin’ and cryin’ all the time? Gotta think about these things babe.” Your lip quivered as you continued to listen to him, his stance on the situation already clear to you before you had told him anything at all. The sight of you on the verge of crying made him shut up, cocking his head to the side as he studied your expression. “What’sa matter? Why’re ya cryin’?” “Whatever, Mammon. Just leave me alone. You think you can do that?” You snapped at him, quickly wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeve as you got up from the bed, walking to the door as he watched, clearly confused and unable to think of a time when you had snapped at him, let alone told him to leave you alone. He didn’t get it, and he didn’t think that he had said anything wrong. Asking him how he felt about having a kid was a silly question, especially considering who he was. Did you really think he’d be able to put his money towards some infant? It was hard enough already to share his money with you. You walked into your room, staring at the little white stick that laid on your desk, the two pink lines that had sparked joy in you only moments ago now felt like two walls, and they were closing in on you much too fast. “I’m sorry…” You mumbled, unsure of who you were even saying it to, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Sorry to yourself for believing that Mammon was capable of actually growing up, of taking responsibility. Sorry to Mammon for having that much hope in him, for almost placing so much responsibility on the shoulders of someone who couldn’t even zip up his pants without getting his dick caught in the zipper on the first try. But most of all, sorry to the child that you were carrying who had an absolute imbecile as a father and a mother with poor judgement for even thinking that he would potentially make a good father.

Mammon stood outside your bedroom door, his hand raised as he wondered whether he should knock or just walk right in. Surely you’d be pissed at him either way, but he heard the soft sounds of your breathing and he knew that you were sleeping. He should have walked away, he should have waited for you to wake up so he could actually talk to you, but he needed to know what was wrong, what the reason was for bringing up a child, and he hoped that he’d find the answers somewhere in your room. He opened the door carefully, making sure the hinges didn’t squeak or squeal to alert you that he was there. Seeing you curled up on the bed, holding tightly onto your pillow with the blankets wrapped around you, it hurt just a little. You should be holding onto him like that. You would have been holding onto him like that if you hadn’t walked out the way you did. He sighed quietly, turning away from your sleeping form on the bed to go back to searching, his eyes going straight to your desk. There could be something in your notebooks, or maybe in your bag. He wasn’t against going through people's things, it just felt strange to do it when they were in the room. Before he could even start flipping through the pages of your books though, his eyes focused on the little white stick. He didn’t know what it was, he had never seen anything like it before. “What the…?” He clicked his tongue, studying the stick for a little bit more before shoving it in his pocket and leaving your room. He may not know what it is, but surely one of his brothers would know, and the main brother he was thinking of was right down the hall, most likely with his face stuck between the pages of a book. “Hey! D’ya know what this is?” Mammon asked, walking into Satan’s room unannounced as usual, grabbing the stick out of his pocket and holding it up in front of his brother's face. He didn’t understand why Satan looked so disgusted, or why he smacked the stick away and out of his hand. “Jeesh… I was jus’ askin’. What’s yer problem anyway?” He mumbled, bending down to pick the stick up off the floor and shoving it back into his pocket. Satan looked on at his brother incredulously, like he was looking at the biggest idiot in the entire universe, and he was pretty sure that he actually was looking at the biggest idiot in the universe. “You don’t know what that is? At all? What’s it like being so clueless all the time?” Mammon didn’t have time for his little brother’s ridicule or mocking, he just needed to know what the stick was, it might give him some answers as to why you’re so upset. He stood there staring at Satan, his hands on his hips as he waited for a real answer. “It’s a pregnancy test, you dunce! How do you not know that?” Satan groaned, flipping his book open once more, only for Mammon to drop the test between the pages, looking down at his brother with wide eyes. “What’s it sayin’?” He whispered, almost too scared to ask too loudly. He didn’t want any of the other brothers to hear him, he didn’t need them to know. He didn’t want Satan to know either, but he was the smartest brother in the house aside from Lucifer, he was just too scared of how Lucifer would react. “She’s pregnant. Congratulations. Can I get back to my book now?”

The news was out, and you didn’t know if it was relieving that you didn’t have to tell him yourself or if you were more pissed than anything that he had gone into your room and snooped through your things without you knowing. “So when was ya gonna tell me, huh?! Or did ya jus’ plan on hidin’ it till the kid popped out? Betcha was gonna try’na surprise me… Well now ya know… I don’t like them kinda surprises! I don’t want no kids!” He had stormed into your room screaming it, out the window with his plan of keeping it a secret from his brothers. They had all gathered around the door to listen to the fool and watch as he made a scene. You watched on in complete disbelief, holding your pillow tighter against your body as he continued ranting and raving. “All yer fault too! Ya got all jealous ‘cause the ‘ttention I was gettin’ so ya try tah ruin my modelin’, tie me down with some kid that I ain’t want. Who’s the stupid one now? Huh?!” You were on the verge of tears, bringing the pillow up to your face to hide behind it as he continued spewing whatever nonsense his brain could come up with, anything to shift the blame off of himself. “Mammon!” Lucifer’s voice rang loud as he pushed through the crowd of brother’s that had all been looking on in shock. “All of you, back to your rooms. Now!” No one dared to go against him, not even Satan and Belphegor, they all scurried away, but you didn’t doubt for a second that they would be listening from the doors of their rooms, waiting to see what kind of punishment Mammon would get for not only talking to you that way, but also getting you pregnant. “Down to my office.” His voice was stern, he wasn’t messing around. For once, Mammon stood up to Lucifer. He was on a power trip after yelling at you that way, and there was no end in sight. “No. I’m gettin’ outta here. I ain’t lettin’ no human hold me back, and I ain’t lettin’ no human kid hold me back or take my money. The Great Mammon is leavin’, and I don’t want no one ta follow me either.” He strode out of the room, his head held high as if saying all of that made him feel more powerful than ever. Maybe it did, maybe he got a rise out of it, you weren’t sure. Hell, you weren’t sure of anything anymore. “Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything?” You could tell that Lucifer was enraged. The way Mammon had spoken to you and him was unacceptable on every level, but with Mammon gone, you had become his priority, the center of attention. He smiled weakly to you, walking over to sit on the edge of your bed as he awkwardly patted your legs through the blanket. “Are you thirsty? Do you need anything to eat?” You could tell that he wasn’t good at this. Comforting others wasn’t his forte, but he was trying his best, and it was appreciated. “Tissues?” You said weakly, finally letting the pillow fall away from your face. Your eyes were puffy and red from crying and repeatedly wiping them against the pillowcase. Your nose was just as red from sniffling so much and Lucifer pitied you. He knew that this wasn’t entirely your doing, Mammon was just being an asshole and trying to find a way out of any responsibility, as he always did. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, handing it to you with a soft smile, but you were a little confused. Why was he being so nice? “Aren’t you mad at me too?” Lucifer chuckled, reaching out to pat your head softly before standing up again. “Mammon is an idiot, but he somehow has charm. Humans cannot deny him, try as they might, and you were no exception to that charm. He wasn’t careful, which is the case with most things that he is involved with. You didn’t know that something like this could happen, you most likely didn’t believe that it could, but he knew, and he didn’t care. Such are Mammon’s mistakes.” He sighed heavily, grabbing the pillow that you had dropped and placing it behind your head again. “You need to relax, be calm. I’ll bring you some tea and soup. How does that sound?” You nodded slowly, relaxing against the pillow as you dabbed away the tears that had begun to fall. It was strange that Lucifer was

acting this way, you weren’t used to him seeming like he cared, but it was welcomed and much needed.

Mammon rarely ever came back to the house after he left, only dropping by to pick up clothes or random items that he might have left behind, but he never looked at you or talked to you. He never asked about the child that was on the verge of busting out any day now, he didn’t even ask his brothers how you were doing or how you were feeling, never asking if you needed help. He didn’t care, he never cared. “Y/N, how are you feeling today?” Lucifer asked as he walked into your room. It was something that you had now gotten used to, his constant appearances to make sure that you and his brother's child were healthy and well rested. He had, in a sense, taken over, not wanting to leave you to go through this kind of thing on your own. “You’re very close to the delivery and you haven’t gotten a crib or bassinet yet? Is she going to be sleeping on the floor?” He asked, looking around the room. You giggled lightly, shaking your head as you watched him walk further in. “I’m feeling good, thank you. And no… no crib or bassinet. I was thinking she could sleep in the bed with me.” You mused, rubbing your hand over your swollen stomach and feeling your daughter kick against your touch. “A lot of parents do that so they don’t have to get out of bed in the middle of the night. At least until she’s old enough to sleep on her own.” You shifted, swinging your feet over the side of the bed and quickly walked over to help you up, tsking his tongue at you. “If you spoil her from the moment she comes out, she’ll never willingly sleep on her own. I’ll order one from Akuzon and have it shipped here, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes at Lucifer, patting the side of your bed, motioning for him to sit down. “What is it? Contractions? Do you need me to hold your hand?” He was taking this so seriously, you still weren’t sure whether to be shocked or happy that he had stepped in when Mammon had walked out. He sat down, grabbing your hand before you had even told him what you needed, brushing his thumb along your knuckles. You bit your lip, looking down at your hands and then back up at him, letting out a small giggle. “I was actually just thinking that you’ve done so much… And I’m not even sure why… But you’ve never actually felt her kick. Do you want to? She’s moving around a lot this morning, I think she’s trying to get out.” You pursed your lips, watching for his expression. You could tell he was thinking, his eyes landing on your stomach as he watched the little waves that your daughter made beneath your skin. It was oddly satisfying to watch, and he had been wondering what it would feel like, so he slowly reached his other hand out to place on top of your stomach right before she kicked again. “Does it hurt?” He wasn’t exactly asking you, more so asking himself as she continued kicking against him which had a small smile forming at his lips. “She’s definitely trying to get out… I should order that bassinet now. I don’t think she’ll be in there much longer.” He quickly got up, standing straight as he smiled kind of awkwardly down at you. “Let me know if you need anything while I’m gone.”

Lucifer was right. Your daughter decided that she wanted out that night, and he was with you the entire time. He never left your side at the hospital, and he had even been the first one to hold her, placing his finger in the palm of her tiny hand for her to wrap her fingers around. “Let’s just hope you’re nothing like your father…” He whispered before handing her off to you, leaning in to kiss the top of your head as he brushed the hair out of your face. “You did wonderfully, Y/N. I’m so very proud of you.” Going back home was nice, all of the brothers were standing in the entryway waiting for you. They were all lined up, waiting to hug you and extend their congratulations before all getting a look at your daughter who Lucifer held close to his chest. If none of them had heard Mammon’s outburst at the beginning of your pregnancy, they all would have assumed that she was Lucifer’s based on the way he looked at her alone. With all the excitement and everything that was going on, you hadn’t even noticed Mammon who was standing next to the stairs, his eyes focused on Lucifer, but you couldn’t read his expression, not clearly. “So yer back home…” He muttered, finally stepping forward. “And ya brought the kid with ya…” You heard Lucifer growl quietly, not even realizing how close he had gotten until you turned around and saw him standing right behind you. Mammon’s eyes squinted as he looked between you and Lucifer before he started laughing loudly, waking up your daughter who had been sleeping peacefully in Lucifer’s arms. “Oh! Don’t tell me, Lucifer… yer datin’ my girl now… and ya tryin’ ta play dad ta my kid. Is that what this is?” What you weren’t expecting was to feel one of Lucifer’s arms wrap around you, pulling you a little closer to him, still growling, but much more quietly. “That’s exactly what this is. Except I’m not playing anything, I’m sure the child will be much better off with a more responsible father such as myself. Anyway, thank you for dropping by, have a great night.” Your eyes went wide as you turned to look back at the oldest brother. Was that what this was? You hadn’t even known… but… he was so good to you, and you could already see how good he was with your daughter… When was he planning on actually telling you though? He smiled down at you, rolling his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you, and you could barely hear Mammon’s gasp over your own. “I’m sorry, dear. I had a much better speech prepared for this, but as per usual, Mammon ruined it.” He brushed his thumb across your bottom lip before handing you your daughter. “I’ll be right up, I just want to show Mammon out the door this time.”

[tonytonwy]

a change in ritual

kita s. x f!reader

summary: where you reminisce on your exchange in Japan and how you inevitably fell in love with Kita Shinsuke.

Somewhere in the world, early in the morning.

"Jeez y/n, you really need a good routine!" Your friend scolds you as you huff, just making it in time before the doors shut. You lower the volume on your phone; ABBA's great singing become background noise as your friend makes her usual disappointed face. You really needed to stop waking up in the last ten minutes of the morning before you had to run, you were in your last year of high school for god sakes. "Have you ever actually had a planned routine in the morning?"

Her question is as sarcastic as ever, rightfully annoyed with the amount of times you've slept in but it immediately reminds you of a certain boy with silver hair, soft brown eyes and dewy skin, a devoted grandma who adored you as if you were her own blood, a time where you were young and stupid, however not stupid enough to kiss a boy.

"I'll have you know," you say with pride and fondness, "during my exchange in Japan, I had a really good routine over there."

"Right, the same exchange trip where you fell in love?" Her smile is smug and you act like you've been metaphorically shot. It was an amazing experiences with a lot of a small regrets. I wish I had done that, this, and more. You got over those regrets with time however, the small mourning of an experience you could've had comes every now and then. Even after three years, you can say confidently you've never truly forgotten those bittersweet memories.

"And I hate that I ever told you that." Your friend laughs loudly in the compact train, ignoring every glare towards you two.

"Tell me the story again, I seriously love making fun of your boring, awful, no-fun choices."

Somewhere in Hyōgo prefecture, late in the evening.

"Has yer routine ever been drastically changed?" Kita looks to orange sky filled with purple hues, deep in thought over Aran's question as they walk together. Their walks became less talking and more 'interviewing Kita Shinsuke', which he didn't mind, it was great bonding. "Because I feel like nothing could change yer ritual."

Kita gives a small smile, nostalgia filling his head.

"Yes," Kita adjusts his bag, trying to hide the smallest blush on his cheeks, "in the second year of middle school, my routine was quite different to now."

After being with Mr Perfect for three years, Aran could read him a bit better now.

"Tell me," Aran leans in, "did something magical happen in middle school to our captain?"

"Something like that, it was all due to my grandma really." Kita says fondly, "like always."

Somewhere in Hyōgo prefecture, three years ago, February.

You were meant to stay with a loving couple whose son was in Tokyo studying. Keyword; meant to. However, as the gods would intend, things changed, and quickly. 2 days into the exchange and their son decided to move back after hating Tokyo and with no space left, they asked Granny Yumie if she could take you for 6 months. With the programs' and your permission of course, and you were 14, you weren't going to speak up about an issue at all.

"Naturally, 14 is the age of cowards." You glare as your friend interrupts your story before shutting up again.

You felt indebted to Yumie as she gave a big smile and welcomed you into her home as if you were another Kita. You remember meeting Shinsuke perfectly, in the most awkward, 14-year old way. It was a Sunday morning when you entered the old yet cozy house, nervously walking in your 'Anpan Man' socks.

You bump into him as you try to find your room, meeting at a corner. Your foreheads colliding as you drop your bags and you rub your forehead. You were similar heights back then, however you can't help but wonder if he's grown much, is he still a similar height? taller than you? maybe even shorter?

"We love short kings."

"Shut up!"

"I'm so sorry," he appears to have forgotten his pain as his intense eyes just bore into yours, hints of worriedness and embarrassment in them. As his face leans in, you can't help but feel more bashful as you see those brown eyes stare at you, or more like at the red spot on your forehead.

"No, no, it's my fault!" You say in English, too worried to speak Japanese. You scramble back up before he softly moves your hair out of your face however stops and gives a small glance.

"May I?" you can only nod, closing your eyes as he softly touches the bump forming. You don't know where this prince came from but you weren't sure if your heart could handle living him. You both jolt as Yumie appears, right next to you.

"Ah, Shin-chan, yer back already," Yumie says cheerfully, "I see ya met y/n-chan."

"Yes, we've had a small accident though," he's still touching your head and you only hope your face isn't too red for him to notice.

"Ah, colliding heads already? Here I thought ya two would along great." She says while giving a small laugh, also moving your hair away to check the bump.

"I'm fine honestly, some ice and it'll go away." You say while giving a sheepish smile, you didn't want be a bother.

"Water?" They both say, confused before you now feel your face noticeably heat up as you messed up. You quickly realize had forgotten the word for ice in Japanese.

"Ah, cold water?" you question, feeling like an idiot. You see how Shinsuke gives a small smile, humour in his eyes over your cute mistake.

"Ah, Ice, Kōri." His English pronunciation is essentially perfect and you feel a sense of relief as at least you had him as a helper in case you didn't understand something.

"Please write a fanfic over your life."

"The Suzuki's are gettin' an exchange student today, she's meant to arrive soon."

Kita himself remembers the day you arrive perfectly. He was walking with his grandma and his sister around the fruit produce section in the grocery store. He nods at his grandma's words, she always knew the latest information in the town.

"Ah, an exchange student comin' to Hyōgo?" His sister ponders, twirling her hair, her confidence growing as a new high school student at Fueneku. "That's strange."

"Well, speak of the devil," his eyes whip to where his grandma is pointing at, you with the Suzuki's, smiling and bowing as they buy food. You're wearing a loose t-shirt with a black puffer jacket, jeans and some black boots. Your hair is slightly damp and cheeks flushed with the sudden rain that arrived to the town.

He was not one to stare but he can't help it, it's not because you're a foreigner. He honestly is not sure why his eyes can't leave you but your smile must be one of the reasons as you give a big smile to the host family. The Suzuki's laugh at something you say, making you blush profusely, you must've messed up a Japanese word, Kita stupidly wonders what you could've said that was so funny.

"Did you find out what she said?"

"Apparently when they asked her what activities she wanted to do, she said Baikingu instead of Saikuringu."

"Well, she sure is pretty, right Granny?" His sister subtly points to her brother as both women look at his 'awed' face. Yumie nods, giving a big smile, she knew that look from anywhere. That was the same look her husband gave to her when they first met, the glance her son gave to her now daughter-in-law. She felt blessed by the gods to witness her grandson's lovestruck moment as Shinsuke slightly clenches his fists.

He had seen pretty girls, on television, in his middle school, even his classmates. But, there was just something about the air around you that made Kita want to know you better.

He wonders if you're going to be in his class.

"Why dontcha' talk to her Shin-chan?" Yumie lightly pushes her grandson, who fumbles before walking back behind Yumie, as if hiding behind his tiny grandma would hide his slightly pink cheeks.

"m' okay."

"Is that all?" Aran asks, clearly not impressed with the story.

"There is more," Kita says, trying to exactly remember everything in chronological order.

"I'm Kita Yurie, but feel free to call me Yuri. I'm 15 and my English isn't the best but I will try my best to make ya feel at home!" Kita mentally checks his sister's introduction; friendly, good information and cheerful ending. He just needed to do something similar or better.

"I'm Kita Shinsuke, I am 13, turning 14. My English is good so if ya have any questions, please ask me," he bows and feels his eyebrow slightly twitch when Yurie snorts.

"I'm Shōsuke! But ya can call me Shō, I'm 8! I think yer cute!" Kita chokes on his spit for a quick second, as does Yurie. You seem to understand what cute is in Japanese as you give an embarrassed laugh to his little brother's introduction.

"Love triangle?" You can only glare at your stupid friend and her stupid comments.

"You're disgusting."

"Thank you for the great introductions, uhm," you look to the ground before staring back at everyone, however your eye-contact with Shinsuke only lasting less than a second before you pull. You felt nervous, his gaze was quite intense and while you knew it wasn't a glare, you were scared to mess up your introduction.

"I'm l/n y/n, I'm turning 14 and thank you so much for everything. please treat me nicely," you bow and feel your breathe quicken with anxiety.

"Great introduction" Kita's voice cracks and he has a composed face but he wants to die as Yurie starts laughing. However, you just give him a smile, eyes grateful for his compliment.

"Oh my god, I can already hear yer sister's evil laugh."

"I know, it stays in yer head."

"Thank you, Shinsuke." You bow, your face heating up as you quickly realize you called him by his name and this is your 'first time' meeting. Kita tries to not blush as well, wondering if you did that on purpose.

It's Monday morning when Yurie lightly wakes you up, you barely slept from excitement of starting middle school in Japan. You check yourself out in Yurie’s long mirror; the sailor uniform, fresh and ironed perfectly. You walk to the dining room where everyone is having breakfast.

“Ah, sorry,” you sit down, next to Yurie and Shinsuke, who just shrug nonchalantly. You notice how upright he sits, and you subconsciously straighten your back.

“Don’t worry, dear. Sleep well?” Granny Yumie passes you plates of food, miso, rice, egg, and more. It’s almost overwhelming how much food she has given you but you notice how Shōsuke gobbles down his food, before his older brother tells him off.

“Uh, I was a bit excited so I’m not sure if I slept enough.” You yawn and she gives a small laugh, you notice how Kita is staring at you, like he wants to ask you something.

“Do ya like the miso?” You nod to Yurie, who gives a smug look to Shinsuke. You bring the warm miso to your face, inhaling the strong smell and steam. He quietly eats his natto, he wonders if he should cook miso soup more often.

“It smells delicious,” you notice the white blocks and Shinsuke smiles as he sees yours eyes brighten. “Oh my god, I love tofu.”

“I’ll show ya around Fueneko, it’s not too big so I don’t think you’ll get lost.” You slightly jolt as he talks, his voice somewhat deep with sleep and a morning fruitiness that makes you feel warm. The uniform pants are big on him, he still needs to grow into it but the white sleeves are rolled up, revealing lean muscle of a new teenager. You wonder if he plays any sports, what’s the uniform like on him, could you watch any of his games?

“Are we in the same class?,” you say while eating the soft, cushiony egg, “I would love to have a friend in my first class.”

“Let’s hope,” his soft smile reminds you of the rice paddies on a sunny day.

The three of you walk quietly, Yurie in the middle as she asks you a million questions about your country, culture, and customs. You try to answer the best way however she would occasionally correct your Japanese, Shinsuke seems content with just listening.

“Well, this is my stop,” you look in awe at the highschool, the metal gates thick and slightly old. “If Shin-chan does anything disrespectful, immediately tell me!”

Shinsuke gives a deadpan stare to his sister, who just laughs. He was used to his sister’s teasing by now, it was nothing new. However, it annoyed him when you were there to witness his pain.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” you say while laughing, waving bye to Yurie.

You both walk, together but there is an air of awkwardness, a tension that isn’t quite describable. You’re not sure what to say, to ask or to do however, you decide to mutter something, anything at this point.

"What songs do you like?"

“Do you have any worries?”

You both stare at each other for a second before you both laugh, walking past the river, full of rain water and ducks enjoying the rare February sun.

“Sorry,” he says instinctively, he should’ve guessed you were going to say something

“No, it’s completely fine! Honestly, please feel more relaxed around me, Kita.” He lets his shoulder down, not realising how tense he was before. You avoid a puddle, slightly going in his way. “So, what songs do you like?”

He’s never really thought of it, music. He knows his grandma loves singing a few songs while cleaning but it felt more like white noise than anything else.

"I listen to anythin’ on the radio but I really like 'Sukiyaki' by Kyu Sakamoto." It was one of the most famous songs in Japan, he couldn’t go wrong with that answer.

"Is it an old song?" He feels his cheeks slightly heat up in embarrassment, ah, he forgot how ancient it was.

"Yeah, do ya dislike old songs?" You shake your head violently, giving a worried face.

"I love old songs! Have you heard of ABBA?" He shakes his head in subtle regret, his grandma liked a few of their songs but he had never actually heard one of their songs.

You get your headphones out, hesitantly passing it to Kita. "Would you like to listen to one of their songs? I promise it's good."

He hopes you don't notice the slight shake in his hands when you pass it to him. You hope he doesn't notice your loud heartbeat and red face as your fingers slightly touch with his.

He likes the guitar at the beginning, the singer's voice is soothing against the piano. He thinks the scenery of Hyogo fits the song, cheerful with a soft piano, it seems like a song his Grandma would like. He suddenly wishes he knew an instrument, do you play any instruments? Would he be more cool in your eyes if he played the guitar?

You side-eye him, wondering if this song was good enough to show him. He looks at stoic as ever but as the singer reaches a high pitch, you see his eyes slightly shine.

Ah, so he can make those faces as well.

Kita Shinsuke was never incredibly fond of music but as the beat drops, he feels the need to sing. He sees how you can't help yourself as you softly sing the lyrics while nodding your head, staring at the scenery of Hyōgo. Your hands tightly holding your school bag, however your fingers playing the notes.

He thinks you're gorgeous.

He feels his own head bobbing to the beat, his fingers moving with the clear piano's beats and his heart slightly beating faster as he has this quiet realization.

"This is my favourite part," you say as the song comes to and end and the piano's tune becomes louder. He can't help but smile at your goofiness as you act you're the one playing piano. His head nods along, staring at Fueneko Middle School from afar, he feels a sense of disappoint begin in his stomach, he swears the walk is usually longer.

"Did you like it?" Your voice is uneasy, you knew ABBA wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea but you had hope that Kita somehow likes them.

He's so close to saying something stupid like I like your voice singing it or I like it but your imaginary piano skills more or simply you're pretty, your smile, cheeks, laugh are so pretty, it beats any song.

But Kita isn't stupid, he's a rational 13-year old boy.

"Pretty." You were unaware of Kita’s 14-year-old heartbeat thumping, however he was just as oblivious to your red ears. You almost forget he's talking about the song and not you.

Okay, he's a bit stupid sometimes.

"Okay, it's your turn now, tell me a song," you lean to him, showing your phone. He freaks out, in all honesty, he has zero knowledge of music and wonders how he can surprise you. You try to not overthink your choices, were you leaning too much? Was he uncomfortable? Maybe he wanted you to go away before his friend came?

“Kita!” You both turn, seeing a boy with a shaved head, waving his arm frantically while jogging towards you guys. He’s tall and got a big smile to his face and while he is classically handsome, you immediately think, but Kita is more handsome.

“Who’s he?”

“My captain,” you nod your head, “I play volleyball.”

“Ah, how cool.” Your compliment makes him want to play a match just so you can see how cool he looks, he wants to receive a hard spike. Kita knew that the process was more important that results but he wanted to show you his hard work. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this proud over a simple compliment. Kita Shinsuke was confident, but not an attention seeker ever.

However, he really wants your attention on him.

Your head already imagines it, Kita in his uniform, waving at you from the court. You try to not romanticise the idea of it, of living with a handsome boy who’s your age, but it’s kind-of impossible.

You feel excited for the next few months.

He feels lucky, that he’s the one to show everything about Japan.

Present time

“Wow," Aran sounds shocked, "I can't believe ya experienced that, I’m kinda jealous."

"It was," he almost struggles to find the correct word, "simply amazin’, it's very nostalgic talkin’ about her."

"Yeah, what did it feel like? Being with her?" This conversation disproves every ‘Kita is a robot’ theory as Aran notices Kita’s eye crinkle with something new, different, maybe some sadness? Aran isn’t too sure himself.

"It just felt good, as if all the perseverance, and diligence I had done were accomplished with just talking to her. Helpin’ her felt like I had done all my chores and ticked all my checklists."

“It sounds like right person, wrong time. But damn, not even a subtle confession?" Aran whistles, it was a bit of a disappointing story, after all, from all the J-dramas he’s watched with his mum, the confession scene is one of the most anticipated and adored moments of a show.

"No," Kita plays with the strap of his gym bag, "unfortunately not."

"Well" Aran puts a hand on Kita’s shoulders, “you never know when she’ll appear!”

Kita smiles, looking at the sunset go down, he wonders if his sister still has your information. While he agreed with Inarizaki’s flag, we don’t need the memories; for looking forward, with your head up high into the future was always the best choice.

He couldn’t help but reminisce the memories he had with you.

"I still can't believe you didn't kiss him!" Your friend groans, as if she didn't know the outcome of the story you've told her like 10 times already. "Surely more stuff happened, right?"

"What do you mean by that?" You ask, feeling your heart race and face warm up.

"Not like that idiot!" Your friend laughs again, "you've only told me this story though, and you lived with him for 6 months."

"Ah," your smile is dead giveaway and before she can ask any questions, you look away, "Yeah, I have more stories."

"Well, come on," you guys walk out of the station, the cold air hitting your faces. The tip of your nose immediately being covered by your scarf.

"I need to be drunk to tell you more stories," your friend laughs before lightly pushing you. You were grateful she wasn't too pushy about Kita, after all, talking about him felt like an intimate story in itself. He wasn't someone you wanted to brag about nor bring the spotlight to. He was someone you whispered about, as if afraid to forget the memories with him, someone you held close to your heart despite the fact it has been 4 years. You thought that memories were something that everyone needed; it’s a reminder of hard times, unforgettable moments and unique experiences.

"Well, give me a hint, feed my imagination a bit."

"Mhmm, well I could tell you about when we fell into a lake together," you see how her face drops, "or when stayed up late and just looked at the stars, or maybe-"

"Okay, how does this Friday sound?"

note: AH I LOVE THIS MAN smmmm, i have so many ideas for this trope or au, maybe other characters, i wanna thank for the amazing inspo from a great mutual:))) who wants to remain anonymous but you know who you are.

[biconderoga]

Part 1: Here

Scenario: The death of Itadori hung over Y/N’s head at every waking moment. The circumstances were shrouded with mystery, and Y/N couldn’t do anything but carry on with a heavy heart. Minor Spoilers ⚠️ (Just briefly mentions the way Itadori was revealed to the first years).

Word Count: 2,069!! (My longest piece to date-)

“It’s me! The dearly departed Itadori!”

Megumi liked to think he could take a joke. He could handle teasing on his behalf. Gojou was relentless in that field, so it wasn’t a foreign experience for him. Years of dealing with the blindfolded sorcerer taught him to deal with sometimes tasteless jokes.

But this…this was the most distasteful joke he had ever seen. It left an incredibly bad taste in his mouth. He would rather chug curdled milk than deal with the spectacle that was playing out in front of him. His so called dead comrade was wheeled in by Gojou, and surprise surprise! He was alive and well.

Megumi closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a very deep breath. He opened his eyes again, and glared at Itadori. Itadori, sensing the tense atmosphere, feebly made jazz hands in hopes of alleviating the mood.

It did not work.

“So, um,” Itadori rubbed the back of his neck, and continued in a quiet rushed tone, “Sorry about not telling you I was alive and all...”

Nobara’s eye twitched at his apology while Megumi turned around to join the second years. The shikigami user didn’t have time to deal with this. The Goodwill Event currently took priority. Perhaps after it was done, Megumi could properly wrap his head around Itadori’s revival.

He didn’t know what to feel. If anything, he felt anger. Anger on Y/N’s behalf. How would she feel about Itadori’s return? She didn’t know how he died, and would especially not understand the fact he was alive. Megumi was not one for strong emotions, but the swelling of anger in his chest was too great to ignore.

“Oh? What’s got you so pissy, Megumi?” Maki leaned against the wall as she placed her head on the back of her hand, “You seem upset. Shouldn’t you be a bit more relieved about Itadori?”

Megumi silently huffed, “It’s nothing.”

Nobara, who was marginal to Maki, rolled her eyes, “Always so secretive.”

“You know you don’t have to keep visiting me…”

Megumi merely nodded at Y/N’s statement, “I know, but it’s only fair that I check up on you.”

Y/N groaned at his statement, “I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t have to babysit me. I may have been Itadori’s girlfriend, but I’m not nearly as rash as he was.”

He nodded once again. Megumi himself didn’t understand why he habitually returned to Y/N’s residence. She didn’t properly know him, and if anything she most likely associated him with Itadori’s death. He wouldn’t be surprised if Y/N was just being polite. She easily could’ve been putting up a facade as she silently seethed on the inside.

“You can say you hate me,” Megumi paused as he chose his next words, “You can kick me out if you want. I know you probably blame me for Itadori’s death, I know I blame myself.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Megumi ended his miniature spiel. She shook her head before she firmly placed her hands onto his shoulders, “We haven’t known each other for long, but Itadori did tell me you were strong. I’m not sure where your strength lies, but I do know it’s not your fault. Itadori’s stupid mistakes don’t have anything to do with you. If anything, I hate myself for not asking him more questions,” She lowly whistled, “and I would be lying if I said I didn’t blame Itadori. He was always doing the most, and never took a break.”

Itadori was right, Megumi did like Y/N. Despite the fact she knew absolutely nothing about the circumstances of his death, Y/N was still able to continue forward. She was hurting, but she still took her time to confirm her faith in Megumi.

“Before he…” The sorcerer paused and swallowed thickly, “…died. Itadori told me I would like you.”

Y/N weakly laughed, “And do you?”

“You’re nice…” Megumi smiled, “Itadori got lucky.”

With the goodwill event said and done, Megumi found himself back in his dorm. His blinds were shut, and he was curled beneath his covers as he nursed a headache. No matter the occasion, Megumi found himself injured…

A quiet knock resounded throughout his room followed with a weak, “Hello?”

Megumi shifted under his covers and huffed, “Who is it?”

Silence was heard before the voice mumbled,“Itadori.”

‘Ah,’ Megumi thought, ‘He’s alive’ Following all of the hustle and bustle of the festival, Itadori’s miraculous revival was the last thing on his mind. Megumi processed his answer. He liked his lips before he uttered a, “Come in.”

Itadori entered the room and stood awkwardly by the entrance. He rubbed the back of his head, before gathering the courage to speak. “I heard you made everyone the meatballs I taught you how to cook…”

“Yeah,” Megumi sat up, “Everyone liked it.” The black haired male scratched his head. Itadori was usually a straightforward and happy-go-lucky person, this tense small talk was beneath him. “What do you need Itadori?”

“Ah! Well-you seem distant? Are you still mad at me?”

Megumi shrugged and feigned indifference, “I was never mad. I’m just not used to dead people being revived.”

“Oh, true!” Itadori visibly calmed, “Well if your not mad, can I ask you something?”

Now there was the Itadori that Megumi knew, blunt and straight to the point. The male raised his eyebrow, a silent indicator for Itadori to continue.

“So um…about Y/N…” The vessel fiddled with his hands, “She’s probably real mad I went M.I.A without telling her. Especially, after going a two months without contact! Can you be my excuse? Like we can say we were on a surprise field trip in the middle of the country.”

Megumi sighed at Itadori’s rambling. It seemed to be an ongoing trend that he was the bearer of bad news. First, it was Itadori’s death to Y/N. And now, it was the fact Y/N now thought Itadori was dead. What was first an act of kindness on Megumi’s part was now a huge problem for Itadori.

“So whaddya say?”

“She thinks you’re dead,” Came Megumi’s blunt reply, “If you’re ever going to talk to her again, she deserves the truth. She isn’t going to blindly trust you after thinking you were dead. It’s the least she deserves.”

Itadori’s eyes widened into saucers, “Who told her? Gojou-sensei said no one would—“ He threw himself to the floor and rolled back and forth, “He said since she was a regular person no one would bother telling herrrrr.”

As Itadori continued his senseless bemoaning, Megumi took in a deep breath. The black-haired male rose from his bed and approached Itadori. He gently kicked his side (in a silent hope that it would shut him up) before he spoke, “I did.”

“You did? I thought you hated doing that type of thing.”

“I do,” Megumi rolled his eyes, “But it isn’t fair that she would’ve been waiting for a dead person to call her.”

“But I’m not dead!”

Megumi’s vein nearly popped out of his forehead, “Well I didn’t know dumbass!”

“Can you pass me the ginger paste?”

The male nodded as he foraged through Y/N’s fridge. Once found, he tossed it to her. The girl fumbled to catch it, and playfully glared at Megumi when she did.

“Did Itadori teach you how to make the meatballs?” Megumi queried, “He taught me how.”

“Yeah right, it was me who taught him.” Y/N kneaded the meat in the bowl, “He failed to mention that didn’t he?”

The stutter of the subway cart knocked Megumi out of his thoughts. To his right was Itadori, who appeared to be contemplating something. They exited the cart, and like many times before, they started on the familiar route to Y/N’s residence.

This current predicament eerily mirrored his first meeting with Y/N. Except this time, Megumi brought good news instead of bad news. Hopefully Y/N would take it well and not blow up in anger. She had every right to be angry, but Megumi had an inkling she would hear them out.

“Should I surprise her like I surprised you and Kugisaki?” Itadori pumped his fist, “She’ll probably swoon and fall into my arms! It’ll be super romantic!”

Megumi deadpanned, “I don’t think she’ll appreciate that.” Was Itadori truly that dense? Didn’t he see how Nobara reacted to his revival? He could only imagine how his actual girlfriend would react, “Didn’t you see how Kugisaki reacted?”

“True…” Itadori pouted and placed his hands on his hips, “She looked like this, and she kept glaring when I spoke.”

“I wonder why…” Megumi rolled his eyes at Itadori’s theatrics.

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I suppose I should break it to her…” He ruffled his black locks, “Then when she’s ready you can come in.”

“Alright…”

With a nod, Itadori walked out of view. Megumi took a deep breath, before he knocked on the door.

“Where do you keep running off to? The second years keep nagging me whenever you skip training.” Nobara crossed her arms, while she tapped her foot on the ground as she waited for Megumi’s answer.

“To visit Y/N,” Came his short answer, “After I told her about Itadori’s death we exchanged numbers and kept in contact.”

“Oh…” Kugisaki murmured, “Tell her we should meet up sometime. Maki’s the only girl I’ve talked to on a regular basis,” She pinched her nose, “There’s too much testosterone here.”

“So…what is that you need?”

“Uh, can we sit down?”

“Right, ok...”

Megumi awkwardly trailed behind Y/N as she led him to her couch. He tugged at his uniform’s collar. Was his uniform always so stuffy? No, it was just the nerves. Megumi was at a lost about how to break the news. He wished it was as simple as watching a YouTube video titled ‘How to tell a girl their boyfriend isn’t dead!’. But alas, here he was, with a choked up expression painted on his face.

“What is it Megumi? You’re freaking me out.”

“Itadori isn’t dead.” Megumi truly needed to practice on his execution. His forward way of speaking could easily rub someone the wrong way. The poor guy couldn’t help it! His nerves always loosened his mouth. It wasn’t normal to just vomit information like that. His execution was so poor that he couldn’t help but internally cringe.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You’re joking. This has to be a sick joke.” She leaned back onto her couch, “Then again you’re not really one for jokes.”

Megumi slightly recoiled from her subtle insult. It may have been nothing malicious on Y/N’s part, but Megumi was still irked. He could tell a joke! Instead of pursuing the matter any further, he kept his mouth shut. It was inappropriate to complain now.

“I found out a couple of days ago. I would’ve told you sooner, but I was busy with school.” He started, “It would’ve been unfair of me to just tell you over the phone.”

“C-can I see him?” Y/N mumbled, “Is he here now?”

He nodded, “I’ll grab him for you.”

Within minutes, Itadori is ushered into Y/N’s living room. Megumi quietly excused himself as he was not keen on being caught up in a couple’s quarrel.

Itadori was uncharacteristically silent as he witnessed the tears falling from his partner’s eyes. Itadori’s arm slightly raised out to her, but he ultimately faltered. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he was unsure if the situation called for it.

“Y/N please don’t cry—“

“Two months.” Y/N hiccuped, “Two months I thought you were dead. I got no explanation. I didn’t even get to see your body.” She tugged down her sleeve to wipe her eyes, “Megumi was the only person I could talk to. He couldn’t give me a reason, but he respected me enough to tell me.”

“I’ll explain everything to you, I swear.”

“You’re an asshole for this…you tell me you transferred to some fancy school, and then you die! This isn’t some drama Itadori, you better not have joined some cult!” As her tangent ended, Y/N stumbled over to Itadori and threw her arms around him, “Please trust me, tell me everything from the beginning.”

Itadori tightly returned the hug, and littered kisses on her forehead. Once done, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Of course. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“So you did join a cult.”

“Y/N I swear it’s not like that-“

[kiridarling]

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

request | Can I have royalty au (soon to be king bakugou) (and soon to be queen reader) , katsuki and reader are supposed to be getting married (not to eachother) but they end up sneaking around and doing IT with eachother so top!kats , exhibition , begging , dumbification and spanking THANK YOU💞💞

this lovely request was submitted for the kissing booth event (the rest of the drabbles come out soon, ahem :)) so, if this was your request, um...hAHA whoops.

katsuki bakugou | f!reader, royalty!au, infidelity, nondescript!fiancés, angst (gasp), fingering, exhibitionism, dumbification + more! minors dni!

— 3.7k words

“C'mon, princess...can I make you feel good once last time?

You're getting married.

No more ignorance is bliss, no more I didn't know any better—this is when you put all your childish antics to the side and fucking woman up, now in charge of the safety of your kingdom and its inhabitants and whatnot. So yes, you must snuff all your adolescent tendencies, and that includes sleeping with the Crowned Prince of the neighboring kingdom behind your fiancé's backs.

But, boys are stubborn. And stupid.

Ding ding ding!

"Excuse me, Everyone!" Your fiancé announces to the crowd in your dining room as he stumbles to his feet, spoon clinking against his glass. He nearly trips, but no one sees except yourself. "I would like to make a toast."

You frown. This wasn't a part of the rehearsal dinner.

"First of all, I would like to thank you all for being able to be with us tonight," he says, shoving the glass higher in the air. As red wine splashes over the rim, you think to remind him that isn't a toast, it's the beginning of a speech, but your comments have rarely deterred the man in the past. "As you’re all aware, this marriage is vital. Not only for our kingdom, but for the neighboring kingdom as well."

Your fiancé regards the Bakugou’s with a lift of his chalice. In the coming weeks, two arranged marriages will melt the four most influential kingdoms into two, and your fiancé and his family had the genius to throw a massive Gala to celebrate it. You wouldn’t be surprised if they got off to the idea of stretching themselves so thin their hair falls out at age thirty; they won’t even allow you to choose the type of dress for your wedding.

"I would also like to thank my lovely, lovely wife, for just being so... lovely.” Your fiancé chuckles, accompanied by an uncomfortable massage to your shoulder. The guests find amusement in how whipped he is as he gazes your way expectantly, conceivably wishing to see you swoon at the compliment. All you give him is a blank face. His elation falters.

"You know, when I first met this woman, I knew she was going to be the love of my life," your fiancé shakes your glare off. You purposely block out the rest of his story in favor of folding and unfolding your napkin again, puffing under your breath at the cheesy comment.

"Sap," you grunt to yourself, obviously. You don't expect anyone to hear, but there's a snort to your right. Your eyes lift from your lap—and straight into Katsuki's smug blood red ones. He winks at you from across the table and your eyes roll at that, though there's a small smile playing on your face that's impossible to hide.

"Isn't that right [Y/N]!...[Y/N]?"

You blink yourself back to life, eyes reluctantly leaving Katuski's hypnotic ones for the pair that make you nauseous, "Oh—u-um, yep!"

The place bursts in laughter and there's even a little smile dancing on Katsuki's face. He catches you staring so your eyes divert to your lap, but his remain a physical force against you for the rest of the night.

*selene — the greek goddess of the moon

The balcony is much nicer than the ballroom.

For one, it's the farthest place you could have gone from the commotion, all the way on the opposite side of the castle. It's a solid five-minute walk when you aren't in heels and a heavy petticoat, but it provides a lovely view of your front yard, subjecting you to watch the early-sleepers leave in their carriages to call it a night. Meanwhile, *Selene watches you from her telescope the moon with a sigh and a sad smile, because she's the only one who knows how completely and utterly alone you will be.

You glare at her—the goddess doesn't waver.

Bitch.

It's no secret that Gala’s like these get overwhelming—especially when you're the center of attention. You see Lord Shinsou (Earl) stuff the eager Lord Kaminari (Baron) into his silver-plated carriage before looking around to ensure no one saw, and blanche upon seeing your figure stood on the balcony. You salute so he knows his secret is safe with you, and relief washes over his face before he too hops into the carriage. What a scandal, you giggle.

Plenty of couples resign home after that; it makes you uneasy. You're unsure as to why, but you have the ever-increasing urge to nip at your fingernails until you don't have them anymore, and jamming the sharpest point of your heel into the concrete seems like the only proper way to release enough kinetic energy before you explode.

"He loves me."

He does, embarrassingly so—so what's the issue?

There isn't an issue; there shouldn't be. He reminds you how pretty you are and you compliment his influence. Neither of you are marrying down. You look good together. The kingdom's future power couple if you will, where you two supposedly mold the great future in your peculiarly young hands. There isn't an issue. You're the one for him, and he's the one for you.

The balcony door whines open. You don't turn around, praying whoever it is will see that it's occupied and turn the other cheek. Yet, the stomp of whoever's boots only grow louder until you’re adjacent to a shadow of a being, his chin lifted towards the stars. You catch a glimpse of blond hair, though dyed a pale white by the silver moon, and you two stand in a strangely comfortable silence, watching carriages roll out of your driveway.

The silence doesn’t last for long, though. It never does.

"D’ya always go disappearing like that?"

You frown. "What?"

"I don't fuckin' know," Katsuki grumbles—he has yet to look at you. Seems like Selene captures more than one person's attention tonight. "Blinked and you were gone."

Your frown only deepens, and you return your attention to the courtyard. "I didn't know you were paying attention."

The ash-blond presses his forearms against the railing for support. "I wasn't. He was."

Oh.

"Said he wants you to come back, so," Katsuki clicks his tongue, carmine red eyes finally flicking your way through the darkness. You don’t dare look at him. “You run off often, or what?"

"Tell him I'll come back in a second," you sigh, balancing your face in your hand. Katsuki says nothing, but he doesn't leave, and you hate that you don't mind.

Until he points towards a couple crossing the lawn and says, "Oi, that's the Duke from my fiancé's kingdom. Fucker tried to poison my dad for the throne—straightened him out real quick.”

"Why are you talking to me?" You snap like a cornered animal. Katsuki lifts an eyebrow.

"What? I can't have a goddamn conversation?"

"I—" your chest rises and falls with a reason to why he can't, but you can only come up with one—and you don't want to think about it.

"Listen. I don't like these things either, alright?" He huffs defensively, so defensively that you have to take a step back. "If I have the opportunity to get some fresh air, I'm gonna fuckin' take it."

You shrug, supposing it makes you one and the same. The wind blows, not harsh, but harsh enough to ruffle your gown, and make the gold jewelry decorating Katsuki's tunic jingle.

“So. I guess this is it, ain’t it?”

You sigh, “Katsuki, you know we—“

"Yeah yeah, that's all you fuckin' say," he growls bitterly, and you blink in a poor attempt to find where the animosity came from. His face twists in an ugly way as he sits his hands on his hips, nose scrunched to mockingly pitch his voice that doesn't sound like yours at all. "We can't, we shouldn't—"

"Because we shouldn't!" You nearly shout, and Katsuki jumps from how quickly you raise your voice. "Because—because if we get caught, we're fucked. And I can't go to sleep terrified that I'll wake up to an exposé tomorrow morning and get beheaded by the afternoon. So...please. Just stop."

Katsuki clicks his tongue.

"You don't love that asshole."

Your throat feels tight—much too tight to be comfortable, and your chest rises and falls with disbelief as you search for the words before you can talk again, eyes never dropping from the stars. You've had this conversation, fuck, you have it too often; often enough to know that he would say those exact words, and enough to know precisely what you'll say in response.

"I love him, Katsuki."

"No, no you fuckin' don't," the ash-blond chucks a laugh and it's nothing short of acrid, his words eating away at your skin more than you'd like them to. You sigh, resting your forearms on the railing too.

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Always gotta be so goddamn emotionally unavailable, huh?" He growls, glare set on the mountains presented in front of you. You feel his suit jacket hit your freezing shoulders, unaware of the cool temperatures until you feel the cloth brush against goosebumps. It’s your turn to laugh bitterly.

“Careful. People might think we’re getting married to each other.”

“One day you’ll let me fuckin’ live,” he grunts, and your eyes meet for the first time. His usual red is dyed a deep purple by the moonlight, their usual hardness traded for something much softer. “Can’t even give you a jacket when you’re shivering like a goddamn leaf in the wind.”

You give him a look of utter exhaustion because you’re tired—tired of all this running around and hiding, the secrecy. It eats at your insides like a caterpillar does a leaf, knowing that you go to sleep every night to a man who’ll barely touch you, but at the same time, feeling guilty that you don’t need nor want him to.

“Why are you here?”

Katsuki clicks his tongue. His warm body settles behind yours, close enough to feel the warmth but not close enough to feel him. “You looked lonely.”

“I thought my fiancé told you to get me?” You ask, raising a suspicious eyebrow. Katsuki rolls his eyes, his arms settling on both sides of yours.

“He did. But I didn’t refuse the damn request either.”

“You saw my loneliness all the way from the ballroom. What an eyesight,” you scoff. Katsuki’s eyes narrow, but it’s clear he’s fighting a grin because you’re a little shit who loves giving him a hard time. The ash-blond’s chest rises and falls, and he bites the inside of his cheek.

“You know what I mean.”

You snort, tilting your head to the right. You suppose you do.

“And I’m marrying a bitch,” he adds to his list of grievances, his hands finding yours to gently play with your fingers. You nod in agreement. A bitch she is.

“And...I’m really going to fuckin’ miss you.”

It might as well pass for nothing but a breath, eyes trained on your held hands. His chest suspends like he has more to say, but his teeth tear at the inside of his cheek before he can. “I—fuck, I get it, okay? I’m a selfish asshole—“

“This doesn’t have to do wit—“

“And I really, really need to get my fuckin’ priorities straight. I mean, they are, just not in the way they should be.”

“Hey,” you chastise, shaking his hands for his attention. “You can’t control who you love, okay?"

Katsuki grumbles at that but you refuse, turning around to look him in the eyes.

"And neither can I.”

You let go of his hands in favor of pulling him down via his cheeks and giving him a big fat kiss on the lips. It’s peckish and brief, but it’s sweet and gets your point across. It's comfortable.

“The hell was that for?” Katsuki asks once you pull away. Though you see him struggle to hide a grin, eyes squinting more than they should.

“Easy,” you say, stepping forwards (as if there’s any space for that), “You looked lonely.”

Katsuki snorts, dropping his head, “Bastard.”

“And I’m being married off to an asshole,” you lament, pulling his face so close to the point you’re sure the strain on his back has got to be anything but sexy. He accommodates anyways—Katsuki always has; and night seems to suspend along with his baited breath as he waits for the next line, eyes shining with a painful hope you’re about to confirm.

“And I’m really, really going to miss you,” you say, shaking your head at how utterly true that statement is. Fuck.

The vulnerability slowly fades from his eyes at that, and Katsuki hums, clammy hands finding their rightful place around your hips.

“You shouldn’t call him an asshole, you know,” he says, face inching so close you can smell the champagne on his breath. “He means well.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” you quip back, raising an eyebrow. Katsuki shrugs, and you don’t realize he’s backing you up until your back kisses the cool railing.

“Well. I can’t help but feel a little bad,” he says cheekily as he inches closer, “‘Cause I make you feel so good, don’t I, Princess? Last time I checked, better than he ever could.”

You scoff at his audacity though it’s all good-natured, eyes preferring the moon over his heated gaze as he turns you around to face the courtyard.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, redirecting your attention using a finger on your jaw, “Eyes on me, Princess. You look really fuckin’ pretty under the stars, y’know.”

You snort at the compliment, rolling your eyes.

“‘M serious. A fuckin’ goddess,” he growls, leaving wet kisses up the column of your neck. Your breath hitches as he reaches your sweet spot and sucks, and you’re swatting him away before he can leave a mark.

“I sai—“

“One last time, Princess,” he bargains lowly as his hot hands slide their way from your waist to your breasts, taking their sweet time. Katsuki hooks his chin on your shoulder. “Lemme—Can I make you feel good one last time?”

You’re nodding with a whimper before you can berate yourself for being so fucking easy, the thought of not being able to indulge yourself with this, with him, any longer tosses any and all resistance out the window.

“Good,” Katsuki hums, tweaking your nipples through the bodice. “‘M gonna pay you back for being so good to me, yeah? For puttin' up with all my shit."

You scoff, mouth dropping to tell him you weren't putting up with his shit, but then a warm hand lands on your thigh—somehow, he's found a way under your dress. The hand slides up inner thigh and you feel Katsuki's chest shudder against your back as he finally reaches where you need him most.

"K-Kats—"

"Shhh, you don't want them to hear us, do you?" He grunts, pulling your panties to the side. You shiver from the change in temperature, watching another Duke and Duchess of half-drunkenly stumble into their carriages for the night, before there's a crack of a whip and hooves beat towards the exit. It's only a reminder of how painfully exposed you two are—one glance towards the balcony and any onlooker would know exactly what's happening. You hate it.

You hate that you don't.

"Atta girl," Katsuki purrs, groaning as he inserts a finger. You shiver, the weight of his being practically trapping you against the railing. "Always so fuckin' tight. I swear that asshole never fucks you right."

Katsuki's never been an impatient man and fills you with a second finger awfully fast, chuckling when you bite into the meat of your palm to hold back a whimper. His hips start to grind against the puff of your dress and he groans as quietly as he can, carelessly shoving down the sleeve of his suit jacket to bite into your shoulder.

You let out a broken moan much too loud for this time of night and it prompts Katsuki's free hand to stuff an equal amount of fingers into your mouth. "Y'know, something tells me you wanna get caught. You want the whole world to know how much you fuckin' hate that bastard, huh?"

You choke as Katsuki slides in a third digit next to the second, the slap of his palm against your pussy becoming nothing but obscene as your slick accentuates the sound. His hips speed up against your ass and that's enough friction to have the ash-blond groaning, along with the spit that drips down his forearm.

"So dirty for me, Princess," his hips stutter when you push back, tongue laving over the bite mark you'll probably have to conceal in the morning. Asshole. "You wanna cum like this, don't you? You're gonna cum all over my fingers in front of the entire royal court. Dumb little girl, can't even keep her mouth shut to keep us from gettin' caught."

You jam your heel into the balcony concrete so hard you positive it cracks before you're coming all over Katsuki's fingers, nearly choking on the ones in your mouth as you release the loudest broken moan you have that night. Katsuki's hips stutter against you and you're positive he's filling his boxers from the airy moan that follows, and his hand goes limp in your mouth before it slides out completely.

Your chests balloon in unison, his body draped over yours, and as you two catch your breath under the moonlight, you can’t help but think how much you’re going to miss this.

"Run away with me."

"I—" he does this. He always does this. He makes you feel on top of the world, acting like everything's fine, and then he pulls this shit on you. You look everywhere but him, nearly scoffing in disbelief. "Katsuki—"

"C'mon, Princess," Katsuki scrambles to flip you by the waist until your back is flush against the railing again and he’s cradling both your hands in his semi-damp ones. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t like, and it makes your chest burn. "Across the sea, people are movin’ over there and I—I know someone there, okay? Someone we could stay with, maybe help us get back on our feet an-and I found a fuckin’ ferry guy to take us across, and I can even pay him a little extra, o-or you, or—"

"Katsuki," you give him a sad smile, squeezing his hands tight. There's hope, too much hope in his eyes and it's fucking blinding. "Running away? I—this is—we have an obligation, we can't jus—"

"It'll be fine," he insists, stepping forwards and squeezing you back twice as hard. You sigh."I—the two kingdoms can merge or whatever the fuck they wanna do and then we'll be—"

"Katsuki."

"I—fuck Princess, I don't beg but goddammit, I'll do whatever you fuckin' want, get on my knees, I ca—"

"You really want to know what I want?"

Katsuki freezes. It's the first time you've ever seen some semblance of emotion in him that isn't anger or lust, with carmine red irises swimming in unshed tears—and fuck, you hate the sight. You want to shoot yourself in the fucking foot for what you’re about to do, but it’s for the best. It always is.

"Love her."

Katsuki looks at you, and his face drops, chest shuddering.

"I can't."

You drop his hands in favor of holding his face, thumbing at the hot tears running as they fall. God, Katsuki’s pretty—too pretty for his own good and he doesn’t even know it. His unsteady hands find themselves massaging your ribs and your foreheads knock together. "You need to try. Love her as much as you love me, yeah?"

"'S fuckin' impossible," Katsuki says with a wet snort, shaking his head with eyebrows raised. You giggle, throat impossibly tight.

"Almost, then? For me."

Katsuki’s red eyes stare at you through the darkness. You have half a mind to look the other way, but you figure you owe him this if nothing else, and as he lovingly absorbs your being under the moonlight for the last time, you really wish you could take your words back.

"I'll...fuck. Fine. I'll try." Katsuki resigns with a shrug, shaking his head. You two sniffle in unison and you suppress the strange urge to pinch him. "'M not gonna try to get over you, though. Sorry, not sorry."

You roll your eyes at that but it's all good-natured, followed by a choke you struggle to hide as his arms coil around your waist, "Then I won't either."

A genuine grin spreads across his face, and it’s borderline giddy—and a stark contrast against the waterworks. "She finally fuckin' admits it."

"Figured it was about time," you give him a wobbly smile before your eyes flicker to his, red blurring from being so close. Selene looks upon both of you with a reminiscent sigh.

"I love you, Katsuki Bakugou."

Katsuki sniffs before he laughs; it's wet, and near bitter, and he pulls you so close your face nearly shoves into his chest. "Fuck. Fuck, you're an asshole, you know that?"

"This is when you say it back," you bargain, squishing his cheeks. Katsuki presses his forehead deeper into yours.

"I love you too, Asshole."

He speaks with a softness you've never heard and it's like a gunshot to the heart, and as his lips inch closer to yours as your hands slide to thumb at his ears. One last kiss wouldn't hurt, would it?

Until there's a whistle and the click of footsteps. You and Katsuki jump a mile apart.

"Oh, [Y/N]! You're still out here in the cold?" Your fiancé asks with a raised eyebrow, but it seems like that's only an afterthought as he turns to Katsuki to say, "Your wife’s found the alcohol."

"Great," the ash-blond groans, understanding the translation—your fiancé is piss drunk in the ballroom.

"I do recommend you take her home. She's making quite a mess of the eclairs. And her face."

Katsuki heads inside without giving you a second glance, and your fiancé gives him a solid pat on the way in before turning to you halfway through the doorway, "Are you coming inside, Darling?"

"In a moment," you say with a smile. Your hand never leaves the railing. "Just getting some fresh air."

"Alrighty, then. I'll be in the bedroom. Waiting~" he winks, and with that, he's spinning on his heel, and you're alone with the moon again.

You watch Katsuki guide his inebriated fiancé into the carriage lovingly, with a smile on his face that isn't quite the one he wears with you but close enough, whispering whatever pleases her at the time with a chaste kiss on the cheek. You feel comfort in knowing that he has someone to love and someone to be loved by. He doesn't look your way—not once.

It's not until they drive away that you realize you still have his suit jacket draped over your shoulders. You don't doubt he did that on purpose, either.

Asshole.

[barbarianprncess]

did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”    

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards  the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.  

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.