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amor-immortalem · 3 years ago

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Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch. 16

Warning: child birth and all that comes with it

Taglist: @mediocredective @it-hurts-when-i-blink @ima-simp-uwu @luckyauthorlampknight @miactie

With the new house for Arella and Mammon found, Lucifer set to work on packing up the items in his brother’s room and moving the furniture in there over to the new house. He left Mammon’s bed in case there was ever a circumstance where he would need to spend the night with them although Lucifer doubts he would ever consider coming back home.

These past few months, the House of Lamentation has never felt colder or more eerie with his brothers up in the human realm. Ever since he’d had that weekend meeting with Diavolo, Lucifer had done a lot of introspection on his behaviour leading up to Mammon returning to Arella. He really was under the impression that he was protecting his favorite brother- one the brothers that had been with him the longest.

In a way, the Avatar of Pride considered the second-born the family’s rock. He’d always been there without question when it really counted and thinking back to the day Lucifer forcibly brought Mammon home all those months ago, he wondered if he had done a better job at being the eldest- at comforting his little brothers when they needed him most instead of hiding away in his study and drinking himself into a stupor like a coward, if Mammon would have had a better time at controlling himself when it came to his sin. He didn’t deserve a younger brother like that.

As the last of the boxes is taped up, the black-haired demon sighs before using his magic to transport them to the new house. He wouldn’t enter their new house- actually he was planning to go no-contact with Mammon and Arella. It’s the very least he can do after the unbecoming way he’s treated him. If the pair wanted him back in their life, he would allow them to make that decision. Ascending the stairs, Lucifer gives the room a once over in case he had missed anything before flicking off the light and closing the door.

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

The months seemed to pass quicker than anyone knew. They were only three weeks out from the day Milli had decided to induce Arella. The baby had grown bigger than he was expected to. There was worry that he would be too big fit through the birth canal and Milli wasn’t as experienced with caesarean sections as she would have liked to be.

She has one last check-up before it all begins, today, her 32-week scan. As they arrived at Milli’s residence, Arella held tightly to Mammon’s hand.

“Are you nervous?” He asks as he gives his human’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“A little bit. What if 35 weeks is too early?” Arella chews her lip nervously, “For humans, 35 weeks is still considered a pre-term birth so what if his lungs aren’t fully developed yet? What if he’s not ready yet?”

“It’ll be okay, Baby. I know he’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

Arella would only nod as Mammon opened the door and walked in. The pair were met with Milli’s assistant who was working reception for the day.

“Welcome,” The young man smiled, “Do you have an appointment today?”

We wouldn’t be here otherwise,” The demon says under his breath while Arella gave him a look.

“Yes,” She nods, “I’m here for my 32-week scan.”

“Family name?” he asked as he looked up her appointment information.

“Thompson,” Arella replies.

“Ah! Here you are. Go on and sit down. Ms. Schumacher’s just finishing up now. She’ll see you in just a few.” The young man goes back to typing away on his desktop computer.

The pair take a seat as they wait.

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

“What?” Arella’s eyes widened. “Why can’t Mammon be with me during delivery?”

“Unfortunately,” The witch sighs, “The midwife I work with is incredibly old fashioned. To her, child birth is an extremely sacred rite of passage for a woman. It’s not a space for men.”

“That’s b.s., Mil, ya know that.” Mammon grumbles.

“Of course, I do, but unfortunately she won’t help me if you’re there. It doesn’t matter to her if you’re a powerful demon, according to this woman, you have no place in the birthing room. Think of it this way, Mammon. You need every bit of focus to use that ability of yours to its fullest potential. You can’t do that if you’re busy fussing over Arella. I don’t expect you to be happy with it. If it were up to me, I’d have you there because unlike this decrepit woman, I think its good luck for a baby if both of their parents are with them from the moment they take their first breath. But it’s not up to me. You’re welcome to wait just outside the room, you just can’t be in the room with us.”

Reluctantly the pair nod with Arella shooting her boyfriend a worried look and Mammon just rubs her shoulder. “Are ya scared?”

“A little.” She nods.

“Don’t be.” Milli takes a hold of her hand. “Everything will turn out well for you. The reason I conscripted the help of this specific midwife is because she’s the most experienced with half-demon births. She’s an immortal- granted her status by the Demon King himself for the express of purpose of helping with both magical human and demon births.”

“What do you mean by that?” the Avatar of Greed gives Milli a confused look. “The Devildom only has record of one half-demon ever being born. Are ya sayin’ there have been more?”

“It’s still rare but yes, half-demons are more common than you all have been led to believe. Over the centuries there have maybe been 14 cases of a child born with demonic heritage that lived more than a few hours. Most commonly coming from a witch who desired a child with strong magic since its almost guaranteed that the baby will access to some form of magic. Most of the time it never works out and Mom usually dies in the end. My assistant is actually a half demon- he just doesn’t know it since he’s always suppressed his demonic nature and he was never told by his mother. I took him in off the street after he escaped from some shadow-hunters many years ago. The only reason there’s only been one in the Devildom’s records is because the mothers chose not to report their births.”

“The poor thing,” Arella frowned. “I can’t imagine what that must’ve been horrible for him to go through.”

“I knew there was somethin’ off about that kid. Do you know what court his father hailed from?”

“Pride I believe. But I could be mistaken.” Milli shrugged. There was a buzzing sound from her pager. “I have to go, now. One of my other patients just went into labor. I’ll see you two along with the others in three weeks at the birthing center. Be safe until then.

Mammon and Arella nodded as they turned to put their winter coats on.

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

It's been a day since she was induced. Arella had been actively laboring now for about 13 hours. Mammon hates that he can’t be with her during this time but on the flipside of that coin, it’s a blessing in disguise. He’d need all the mental energy he had at the moment to use chance persuasion to its most efficient degree. If he were still an angel and Lucifer or Michael could see the way he was influencing fate, they’d be pulling out all the stops to distract him. But he’s not an angel anymore and there are no laws to stop him from influencing Arella’s chances for survival. He just sat outside the delivery room, lost so deep in concentration that the rest of the world seemed to fade out.

Satan comes across his older brother first, but when he opens his mouth to call out to him, Levi and Asmo are quick to cover his mouth and move him outside of Mammon’s earshot.

“What the hell are you two doing?” The Avatar of Wrath growls at his brothers.

“You can’t distract Mammon right now. This is important.” Asmodeus says sternly.

“He was just sleeping. I was going to wake him up.” Is Satan’s reply, “I don’t know how he can sleep with her crying for him, though.”

Levi and Asmo exchange a look before they realized what’s going on.

“You’ve never seen Mammon actively influencing chance for a desired target before, have you?” Levi asked softly.

“That’s what he’s doing? Influencing the chance that Arella will live?”

“Not just that, but he’s influencing the chances of everything that could go wrong and everything that could go right. That takes so much energy and mental focus which is why none of us can afford to make him lose his attention on the matter.”

Satan just looked down the hall where their brother was settled. “Beel and Belphie have been down there multiple already though, aren’t you worried about them possibly doing the same thing?”

“They’ve just been bringing him food or water.” The third-born remarks, “This has been what hour 13? As powerful as Mammon is, using his powers this long is draining both physically and mentally. He’ll need a few minutes to eat and drink right before going back to it.”

“Is that going to be enough though?” The blonde blinks.

“It has to be,” Asmo says as they leaned against the wall.

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

Arella was in tears as painful contractions wracked through her body. She knows she can’t call for Mammon since he’s been barred from the delivery room but all she wanted right now was for her mate to comfort her- to hold her as he reassured her that it was almost over. As she lay in the bed, she thought about what their son would look like as that was the only thing that could really distract her from the pain.

Milli was with her for every minute of it, knowing that she needed some form of moral support.

“You’re doing so well, Arella.” The older woman smiles. “It’s almost over so hold on just a little longer, okay?”

“Mhm” The sound comes out in a pathetic whimper as she looked up at the witch. “I want Mammon. I want him here with me. It hurts.”

“I know.” Milli shushes her, “Would you like me to give you an epidural? It’ll take the pain away.”

Arella nods eagerly before letting out a scream as another contraction squeezes her. It was like her body was trying to push Cyrus out already.

“What’s going on? I need you to talk to me.”

“M-my body... It feels like it’s pushing him out on its own...”

Milli nodded. “Roll on to your back and spread your legs for me.” Milli pushed the blanket back as Arella did what she was told and the midwife came walking in.

“Is it time?” The elderly woman asks as the witch nods. “If you could start getting everything ready for after the birth.

“Already on it.” She says as Milli turns back to Arella.

“Alright, let’s get that baby out of there. On the count of three, I want you to start pushing for five seconds and then we’ll pause for a moment and then start again. Remember push with your contractions, not before.”

Arella nods as she grips the railings on the bed while the witch counts. On three, she lets out a strangled groan.

“Okay, stop.”

“God damn it,” Arella pants, eyes scrunched closed. She takes a moment to push her hair back out of her face before Milli has her start again and even more obscenities fall from her mouth as cries out.

“You’re almost there. Keep going on your next contraction, okay? He’s so close to crowning. You’re doing so well. You can do this.”

The freckled human nods as the next contraction hits and she begins pushing once again.

“There’s his head, I can see it now. Okay so I want you to push a little slower now while the head is coming out.”

“Okay, I can do that,” she’s out of breath, stray strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead.

After that, everything felt like it moved too fast. With one last slow push, Cyrus’ head popped out as the rest of his body followed. Milli immediately handed the boy off to the midwife as she cut the umbilical cord and the midwife took the baby to wash him off and assess him for any injuries. She suctioned out the amniotic fluid and the next thing Arella knew she could hear the cries and wailing of her newborn son.

“Congratulations, Mommy. You have a beautiful, healthy, baby boy.” The elderly woman smiles as she holds him up for the new mother to get a better look at her baby before heading back to what she was doing.

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straighttohellbuddy · 4 years ago

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how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}

2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.

Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind.

Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed.

A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona

taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx

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The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.

The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.

By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.

When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh.

It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album.

Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album.

But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.

“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.

“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”

“Alison, the vibes -”

“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”

“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”

“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort.

"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."

"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.

As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.

[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]

Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others.

But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.

[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.

@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖

@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!

@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️

End ID.]

Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.

"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.

"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.

"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.

“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.

“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying.

An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.

"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.”

"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat.

"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"

And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.

All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...

All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here.

"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance.

"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling.

He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”

“Have you drunk any water today -?”

“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.

“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.

“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.

“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.

As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -

“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he’d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”

“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.

“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”

“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration.

“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”

“Which was?”

“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.

Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.

“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.

“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.

“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -

“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?

“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.

“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.

“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.

“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.

[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]

And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.

“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.

“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.

“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.

“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.

“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.

“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.

Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...

When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage.

Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.

“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.

So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.

“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.

“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -

“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious.

“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance.

“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.

“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”

“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.

“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.

“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.

“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -

“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.

“Yeah?”

A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.”

“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...

“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.

“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.

“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”

[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.

blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

fangloriousbastard ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱 👁��👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

fyahproof-y/n ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

crpshsbnd ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.

So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.

Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.

He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions.

“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -

“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.

“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.

So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen.

Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.

He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.

It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.

At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.

Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.

"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering.

Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time.

If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.

Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.

“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.

The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song?

He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.

Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind.

Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.

[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.

@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺

@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover

(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.

Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)

@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork

End ID.]

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #sykkuno #jacksepticeye #valkyrae #how the light gets in #shut ur pretty mouth #cyltlanp

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malachi-walker · 4 years ago

Note

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

#answers #rhythm & blues #the catradora rockstar au #featuring adora's big gay realization #and also fantasy christmas

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headoverheelsforramsey · 3 years ago

Note

Hello, hello! This week, we are going on a little:

Home Tour!

Notes: Answer the following with pictures (dialogue from your characters is optional!). Collages are highly encouraged if you want to answer a question with multiple pictures because tumblr mobile only allows 10 total pics. Otherwise, tumblr on a desktop lets you add multiple pictures (non-beta)!

For both:

What does the outside of the home look like? (Front/back yard, garden, pool, etc)

Living room and home office (if any)?

Kitchen and dining room?

Bedrooms? (Master, guest, others)

Other rooms?

Do you own your dream home? If not, what does that dream home look like?

What is your favorite room to spend time in with each other?

Super super late to this, because of my stupid exam but now we are here so let's go! 💃🏽🏠

A/N : I am placing this two years and seven months after the wedding, because I HC Ethan and Meera staying at Ethan's apartment for two years after the wedding and they only start house hunting when they have the baby talk and start trying for a baby. So technically not newlyweds anymore. Now let's get started! ✨

Meera opens the door and greets Bree.

Meera : Hii Bree, welcome to our humble abode.

Bree (chuckles) : This place is anything but humble. I hope I am not causing much trouble.

Meera : Absolutely not. Who else is going to make me feel like a youtuber?

Both laugh, Ethan joins and greets Bree.

Bree : Congratulations on the good news Dr. Ramsey. How far are y'all?

Ethan : Thank you Bree. It's been 3 months already.

Meera (cradling her small bump) : Yup one trimester down two more to go.

Ethan (kissing her forehead) : And then there will be a mini version of you running around these halls.

Meera : Nope it's gonna be a mini you.

The couple shares a look as if challenging each other.

Meera : Fine, Bree, whose team are you on? Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?

Bree : I am happy with either because at the end I'll be interviewing him or her too.

The three of them share a laugh.

Bree : Let's get started, shall we?

Ethan : Sure.

What does the outside of the home look like? (Front/back yard, garden, pool, etc)

Front :

Meera : We were looking for something modern yet chic, something that is totally us. I fell in love with the design whereas Ethan was in total awe of the open space and glass doors. Needless to say our heart was stuck on this no matter how many more houses we visited.

Backyard :

Ethan : The backyard also doubles up as the garden but it's not quite completed yet.

Meera : Yes it's been two months since we moved, and we haven't been able to work on the garden because of work and the pregnancy. Ethan : But we want to build a garden with a tree house and maybe some swings.

Meera (too excited) : Ohh swings! Yes please add it onto the list. Why didn't I think of it before?

Pool :

Meera : Definitely my favorite part!

Ethan : She is a water baby through and through so that's no surprise.

Meera : Don't act like you don't appreciate me in a swimsuit, Ramsey (winks)

Ethan : There is no denying that.

Living room and home office (if any)?

Living room :

Ethan : Meera was hell bent on having an L-shaped couch.

Meera : Those things are so bougie I had to have one because now I can finally afford one. But yeah the living room is so relaxing with a beautiful view of the outside.

Home office :

Meera : Honestly speaking, I do not understand the utility of a home office, I didn't understand back at his apartment neither do I understand now. If I am supposed to work from home I can do that on the couch or on my bed or even better on the daybeds by the pool.

Ethan (shaking his head) : You'll get it darling. When you start your maternity leave I'll see how you make zoom calls with the pool as your background.

Meera shrugs.

Kitchen and dining room?

Meera : This part was all Ethan so I'll let him do the talking.

Ethan (proudly) : A Poggenpohl kitchen with a granite-topped island adds an ultramodern touch. Glass shelves display colorful glassware convenient to the wet bar. A translucent sliding glass door below the shelves hides the more utilitarian gadgets. And finally playful mod pendant lights seem to levitate over the dining table, which is meant to resemble a river running through the woods.

Meera : You sure you didn't miss your true calling as an interior designer babe?

Ethan (smirks) : Nope, just the fact that I tend to excel at everything I do, Rookie.

Meera : And that makes you 10 times hotter!

Bedrooms? (Master, guest, others)

Master bedroom :

Meera : The bedroom has a different color scheme and tone from the rest of the house because I wanted it to stand out and break the monotone.

Ethan : Again the chandelier was Meera's opinion.

Meera : Finding common ground between his minimalistic taste and mine was difficult but we made it through.

Master Bathroom :

Ethan : Meera I don't think it was necessary to bring Bree in here.

Meera : It was absolutely necessary! Just look at this tub Bree! The bubbles and champagne dates we have here are a total hit.

Guest rooms :

Ethan : We have two guest rooms and both are styled the same way, but unfortunately we haven't had any guests yet.

Meera : Is it unfortunate Dr. Ramsey? Bryce is just a call away from crashing here.

Ethan (pinching the bridge of his nose) : Anyone but Lahela.

Meera : We haven't thought about the baby's room yet. But we have the nursery now.

Ethan : Yes, maybe we'll turn the nursery into a bedroom or one of the guest rooms in a few years. Let's see.

Nursery :

Meera : This was completed just yesterday hence the delay in the interview, Bree.

Ethan : We decided to keep the gender of the baby a surprise so we went with a gender neutral nursery that matches the colour scheme of the house.

Meera : Also because Ethan Ramsey would rather die than paint the walls of his house pink and blue.

Ethan (rolls eyes)

Other rooms?

Home library :

Meera (takes in the smell of books) : Better known as my safe haven.

Ethan : This was absolutely non-negotiable for Meera.

Meera : We both own a lot of books and the collection keeps on increasing now with the baby incoming. And look at this reading space. It's from my dreams.

Ethan : This is tucked away in a far corner of the house and is the most serene place around here. Once, I returned home from the hospital and called out to Meera a hundred times, she didn't answer, I started panicking and then found her silently sitting here in her own world.

Meera : If I ever go missing please check here before running to the police, because once I am in here I forget the existence of the world.

Bree picks up "Peppa pig's super noisy Sound Book" which was kept on a thick medical journal with a smile.

Ethan feels embarrassed but Meera laughs.

Meera : Yes these are the new ones in our collection. Ethan was reading it to the baby before you arrived.

Home Bar :

Ethan : The wine cellar grew into a home mini bar because we had this unused space left.

Meera : He loves showing this and his collection off.

Ethan : Excuse me! If I remember correctly your friends were very impressed as well.

Meera : True that. Bryce went bat shit crazy during the housewarming party. He said he felt he got back his bartending days.

Ethan (proudly) : And Jackie's exact words for that evening's toast was "to hell with Donahue's"

Meera : Yeah yeah, you did a great job honey. Also the more surfaces the better for us.

Ethan : Keep it PG for the love of God.

Meera (shrugs) : Pregnancy hormones.

Bree (points) : And that?

Ethan (facepalms) : The only thing that doesn't match with the vibe here.

Meera : Nonsense! It was a housewarming gift from my friends and I absolutely love it. Ethan just feels it is a cheaper and juvenile version of his favourite game, soccer. But don't worry Bree, I'll get him to play someday.

Ethan (smirk) : I would very much like to see you try Dr. Ramsey-Bose.

Meera : And I'll see how you say no when your son asks.

Ethan : It's gonna be a daughter.

Meera : We'll see.

Do you own your dream home? If not, what does that dream home look like?

Ethan : For the majority of my life home for me was a structure of bricks and cement with a ceiling but Meera was the one who brought all the love and light and showed me what a real home felt like. So for me, my home is where my heart is and for this lifetime it's kept safe with this gorgeous woman whom I fortunately call my wife.

Silence lasts for a couple of minutes then Meera snorts.

Meera (drying her eye) : Damn you pregnancy hormones, I am not even wearing waterproof mascara. It was super cheesy Ethan, a non pregnant me would have definitely called you out on your cheese but this pregnant Meera has to agree with you. Even a stable is my dream home if I have my dream husband with me. (she kisses Ethan) but I wouldn't mind a Jacuzzi, a home theatre, a game room (laughing)

Ethan (an easy smile on his face) : Always knew you were in it because of the money Bose.

What is your favorite room to spend time in with each other?

Meera : The library. Just him reading to our unborn child like he isn't already the most perfect man in the world.

Ethan (a very satisfied smile on his face) : First I am very surprised that you kept it PG. So the obvious answer is the bedroom but other than that, the patio, which is not a room though.

Ethan : Meera has a slight deficiency in vitamin D so to avoid complications, we spend a lot of time here in the sun. We play board games, read and even discuss work here sometimes.

Meera : Ooh yes! This was another great investment and a great way to utilise the humongous outdoor space we have.

Ethan : I hope you had fun Bree. Thank you so much for doing this.

A quick shoutout to @a-crepusculo and @jamespotterthefirst who came to my rescue when I couldn't add more than 10 pics. Also thank you Bree for doing this you are a star and an angel. 💜

Tagging my usual : @starrystarrytrouble @mm2305 @charisworld @choicesfanaf @potionsprefect @genevievemd @shanzay44 @little-flowers-on-heaven @schnitzelbutterfingers @coffeeheartaddict @gryffindordaughterofathena @chemist-ana @adiehardfan @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @natureblooms24 @mainstreetreader @izzyourresidentlawyer @a-crepusculo @quixoticdreamer16 @starryeyedrookie @barbean

+ @openheartfanfics

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed. And if you want to sit out only the answers to the ask games hit me up too. There won't be any hard feelings. I promise. 💜

#asked and answered #newlywed game with our host Bree #queen Bree supremacy!#jamespotterthefirst #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x meera #dr. meera bose #cue the queue

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ilove-cedricdiggory · 4 years ago

Text

Okay

This is the first time I’m writing on my desktop, so if it looks funky, that’s why.

Remus X Reader

Requested? Yes, by @soularsmate. The ask can be found here!

Summary - It’s full moon time and Remus is attempting to protect you, but does he do that in the best way? Do you react in the right way?

Trigger Warning - Angsty, fluffy at the end. Mentions of break up, a fight, things like that.

You were following Remus down the streets of Diagon Alley, fuming at the ears. The two of you got together after you graduated from Hogwarts, having known each other vaguely in school. The two of you had bumped into each other at the Apothecary, you realizing quite quickly that he was purchasing the ingredients for the wolfsbane potion.

“Are you sure you know how to brew that, Rem?” You asked softly, having stood, staring at the man as things clicked in your head. “Uh, it’s gonna be my first time to brew it myself, so, let’s hope so.” He chuckled nervously, not sure what you were gonna say.

“I can always help you brew it, Remus. I was top in Potions every year, and I helped younger students brew it in school, so I have tons of practice.”

That’s how it started. You would come over two nights before the full moon, help him brew the potion, then leave. You'd always come back the day after a full moon, always giving him some poor excuse to let you in, but needing to keep an eye on him for your own heart. You needed to confirm that he was safe.

It slowly lead to you two being together, but the two of you always kept your distance during the full moon, Remus keeping you at arms length when it came to Moony. You hadn’t understood why, having helped him brew the wolfsbane so many times, reassuring him that you were more than knowledgable in the ways to protect yourself, and in ways that you could help - take care of him.

But with each passing full moon, each month that he kept you far away from him, well it was picking away at your resistance to put up with it.

It was now a year later, and your feet stomped after the werewolf, two days before the full moon. You had gotten into yet another argument at the Apothecary, you having insisted that it was time he let you be there for him.

But the man kept his ground, refusing to let you anywhere near him when it came time to transform, or the two days following it. He didn’t want you to witness the blood pooling in each of his inflicted wounds. He didn’t want to see the look on your face when you actually saw the monster he was.

You entered his home, following him through his door. “Remus!” You shouted at him as he began to walk into his bedroom. “What do you want from me, y/n?” His voice was in a shout itself, causing you to flinch slightly. Through the twelve months the two of you had been together, Remus had never shouted at you.

“What has gotten into you? Remus, what is this? We’ve been doing this for a year now! I have been here for you for a year now! Why can't you let me be there for you for this! Every month, I help you brew your potion. Every month I help you prepare to transform. Every month you push me away! I’m tired of this! You let James and Sirius be there for you! You even let Peter! Why can’t you trust me to do this?” Your voice had grown softer as you continued your rant, watching Remus as he stared back at you.

“You know what, you're right. We’ve done this for a year and we’re still arguing over this. Maybe it is time this ended.” You let out a sigh of relief, beginning to take a step towards the lycanthrope. “Thank you, thank you for realizing I can do this-” He jerked his hand out, stopping you in your attempt to walk to him. “No, y/n, it’s time we ended this.” He gestured between the two of you, shaking his head. “We’re...we’re done.” He nodded his head, almost forcing himself to agree with this before he turned on his heels and walked into his bedroom, shutting the door.

It had been three days sense, the day you would usually be allowed to apparate into his flat, pull him into your arms, and hold him as he got over the last bit of pain. But, instead, you sat on the couch in your own flat, attempting to shut out all the memories of him holding you in his arms as you forced him to watch another muggle movie with you. Attempting to shut out the thoughts of calling him to your flat to kiss you the way he used to . Attempting to shut out the idea of baking cookies together in your kitchen, where you would throw flower into his face then run through the apartment like your life depended on it.

Now, you were forced to sit in the eye of the storm that you called your head, attempting to hide yourself from the memories it attempted to bombard your mind with when your eyes glanced to anything in your apartment.

But you were tired of it. You were tired of making yourself feel like this was your fault, because it wasn’t. So, you picked up a quill and you wrote as frantically as you could to the one person who would support your next actions - Lily.

She had been there through your entire relationship, having informed you of all the little quirks of the group before you were thrown into it. Laughing with you as you both walked down the streets of Diagon Alley on your own shopping day. Sitting in your apartment as you both watched baby Harry move to sit up by himself, cheering for the small thing as he laughed his baby laugh.

She popped into your flat in no time, nodding her head and getting you both ready. Because, if you were going to get your head out of this funk, you had to get your body out of the funk it was in. So, you both got dressed in the sluttiest of dresses, having applied the darkest of eyeshadow, and put on the highest of heels you owned, and strutted yourself into the first muggle rave you could find.

Drinks were downed, by you at least. Lily was still breastfeeding and didn’t have the time to pump enough for Harry to drink while the alcohol left her system. So, she screamed with you as you downed shots after shots, cheering as you danced on whatever you wanted to dance on, and made sure that you had the time you wanted to have without thinking of the wolf that made you take this outing.

That was, until, you thought you saw him. It was a muggle with sandy blonde hair, just like his, the height, just like his, and then again, he was all you could think of. So, what do you do? The only rational thing you can think of - well, the only rational thing your drunken mind can do, you send him a picture.

You go to the bathroom, your look right into the mirror, adjust your boobs a little bit, then take the sluttiest picture you can think of, send it to him, then a few seconds later type out, “Oh/ wand’t mwent forr u, sry.” Then walk out of the bathroom with the sole intent of dancing with the muggle who started this.

You walked past him, dragging your hand on his arm before mumbling an apology, looking up at him with the same doe eyes that had Remus stumbling over his words plenty of times. The muggle immediately turned to you, licking his bottom lip before biting it, shrugging. “All good, can I get you a drink?” You glanced back at Lily, where her eyebrows were furrowing, asking herself if that was the same man who had you crying 6 hours ago.

Before she could attempt to change your mind, you shook your head, “No, I think I’d much rather dance.” The muggle quickly took your hand, leading you further into the dance floor, pulling you through the many bodies already moving their hips on their partners before turning your backside to him, letting you move your own hips in the same pace as the pounding beat surrounding you.

You don’t know if your body sensed him, or if you just happened to look up at the right time, but your eyes glanced up to see the sandy blonde haired man your body wished it was grinding on, locking eyes with him before turning around and wrapping your arms around the strange man’s neck.

You attempted to pretend like your body was in flames with just the mere thought of Remus watching you in another man’s hold, until his hold was ripped off of you and you were found in much more familiar arms.

“Yo, dude, we were kind of dancing!” The muggle shouted at Remus before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Dude, your face looks like mine.” The drunk man laughed a bit at the idea of Remus looking so much like him and watched as Remus drug you out of the bar.

“I’m gonna head home. I think you’ve got her now.” You heard Lily speak, but you were too focused on keeping the vomit in your stomach and not letting it leave your mouth like it so wanted to. “Yeah, I’ve got her. Thanks for texting me back.” His hold tightened on you as he walked you both into the deserted alley, apparating you both to his apartment before you slipped from his hold and rushed into his bathroom, hearing his footsteps follow you and his hands pull back your hair, his other rubbing your back softly.

“You okay?” He whispered softly, watching you nod your head then sit up properly, feeling a bit more sober. “Why did you come get me?” You whispered, your eyes closing. “You’re the one who texted me a picture of you in a dress you swore to only let me see.” He continued to brush a few more strands back from your face.

“I said it wasn’t meant for you.” Your voice was mumbled, your eyes trained on the floor. If Remus knew how to do one thing, it was to tell you were lying. “Y/n, come on.” His finger found your chin, lulling your eyes to look into his. “Remus, you can’t do this. You’re the one who broke up with me!” You stood up, walking into his room.

“I know! But you still sent me the picture!” You blushed, shaking your head. “How did you know where I was?” You looked at him with that, watching him scratch the back of his neck. “I texted Lily. I figured if you went out with anyone, it was going to be her.” You nodded, looking around. “Well, I’m gonna head home Remus.” You sat on his bed, swiftly taking off your shoes before standing.

“Wait, y/n.” He stepped closer to you, sighing. “Please don’t go. I know I broke up with you and I know you probably hate me, but please don’t go. Moony can’t stand the thought of you leaving, especially not now, especially not after seeing you with someone else - even if he looked like me.”

You looked up at him, shaking your head. “You and Moony don’t get to say that kind of stuff to me anymore. If you both wanted to talk to me like that, you would have let me be there for you. You wouldn’t have broken up with me.”

Remus took two large steps to you, taking your hands in his. “Look, I can’t tell you that I’ll be super comfortable with letting you be there during my transformations as quickly as you probably want to be, but I swear that I’ll work on it. You can stay here when I go and be here as soon as I come back, help patch me up. But, please don’t leave again.” Your eyes widened, looking up at him.

“Remus, don’t play with me like that.” Your eyes teared up, looking into his eyes. “I’m not, I swear. I want you here for me, I do.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pressing yourself into his hold. “Okay.” You breathed out. Things were gonna need a minute to fix itself, but you knew one thing - you weren’t leaving.

“Okay.”

75 notes · View notes

whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

The Narcissist

My tasteful whump approach of: what if Tobias Hankel had made good on his word and come to kill Aaron Hotchner?

No major warnings apply, whump, angst, and sweet, sweet fluff

Word Count: 5k

If Aaron Hotchner smoked, he’d be blowing through a pack of cigarettes right about now. Gideon had benched him. The older man had taken one look at him and pulled him aside. He’s a nervous wreck. The tremor in his hands visible as his voice had cracked, asking the team to just broadcast what they each thought were his worst characteristics. Gideon let him drive his point home-- Aaron is many things but a narcissist has never been one of them-- and put him in a place where there was only one right answer. Gideon had told him no one would blame him if he couldn’t do this.

“It’s okay if you can’t handle it.”

His stomach cramps at the thought of those words.

Narcissists.

Bully.

Drill Sergeant.

Sexist.

Weak.

Leaning with his weight on his left arm, pinned above his head, Hotch vomits against the side of the house. His knees shake and tears he can’t control the tears that roll down his cheek. He bites back a sob as he falls to one knee, nearly landing in the puddle at his feet. They’re right, he concludes, shaking so hard he’s not certain he’s going to be able to get back up. He’s nothing but a bully. Worthless. Weak.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

Hotch looks up to see a dark shadow approaching him. He sniffles, straightening as his heart pounds. His subconscious drawing up his shields. Something’s not right. “Who are--” he jerks back, blinking dumbly as his brain fails to comprehend what’s just happened. He’s looking up at the sky, flat on his back. A gunshot. He coughs and gags as the thick taste of copper coats his tongue. He’s been shot.

“I condemn you,” the deep voice rasps into the dark.

Hotch just blinks, ragged wheezes leaving his mouth. He’s looking down the barrel of a gun.

“2 Corinthians 5:10 For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive the things done in the body, according to what he has done, whether good or bad." The hammer draws back as the sound of the old front door being thrown open rips through the night. “Every sinner must pay--” the hammer strikes.

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

Derek finds Reid.

He’s sitting on the floor with his hands bound in front of him, just waiting for whatever torture comes next. When his eyes land on them, he lets out a broken sob. Drawing his feet to his chest, he shakes his head. “No,” he rasps, burying his head in his knees. “No. No. No!” He starts to rock, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and his body drawn tight.

“Spencer?” Gideon tries to crouch near him but Reid kicks out and pushes himself away.

“No,” he cries. His eyes meet Gideon’s bloodshot and red-rimmed. “No,” there are tears pouring down his eyes. “I killed him,” he rasps. “I killed him, didn’t I?” His tone shifts. His body… Spencer Reid isn’t their rookie. He’s not their kid. He’s a shell. Broken. His voice rasps and breaks as he pleads-- the truth. He needs the truth. “Gideon, you have to tell me. Did I kill him?”

Gideon shakes his head-- oh. “Derek!” his voice is a bark, a command. It’s a level of control and demand that Morgan hasn’t seen or heard of since Adrain Bale. It snaps Morgan’s attention to the man though. “Get Aaron and Garcia on the phone and get out of here. Hankel’s going to them.”

Morgan freezes in shock, processing exactly what that means. “He’s…” his eyes dart to Reid. The younger man’s eyes bouncing between Gideon and Morgan, trying so desperately to figure out the answer to his question. So Morgan doesn’t say it, he just nods and turns around shouting out for Emily. But, by God, he thinks it. He thinks it and it makes his stomach twist and his blood cold: Tobias Hankel is going to kill Hotch.

Garcia doesn’t answer his calls.

Three calls.

All to voicemail.

Morgan drives through the yard, cutting time and not giving a damn. He pulls right up alongside the police cruiser and an ambulance. “Hey,” he shouts, throwing his door open and leaving it as he runs to the first cop he sees. He pulls out his badge. “My team,” he says. “We’re working a case here. Where are Agents Hotchner and Garcia?”

The cop looks him up and down, obviously displeased with being interrupted from his leaning and watching as everyone around them works. “I don’t know,” says with a shrug. “We got some guy waiting to get picked up by the coroner.”

Morgan curses in frustration. “This isn’t some joke to me, man.” He looks around, “is there anything else you can tell me?”

Before the cop can say anything further, Emily shouts Morgan’s. She’s jogging up through the grass, moving away from the crowd of EMTs, officers, and other jackets standing by the side of the house. Motioning for him to join her, he steps back towards the car. Following.

“Hotch and Garcia are headed towards the hospital,” she shouts. “They’re not sure Hotch is gonna make it.”

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

Penelope Garcia stands completely alone.

Around her, the emergency room buzzes with its flooded life. Such a stark, dark comparison to her friend. His still chest barred for anyone to see as doctors lean over him. The wound is still oozing blood. A dark vacuuming wound. Sucking. He’s as pale as death and silent. He’s not crying in pain. His dark eyes aren’t scanning every inch of space he can see.

He’s still and silent.

From here, she can see the wounds from Adrian Bale’s bomb. She’s only known him since that bomb. That day.

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” she’s still new to the job. A greenie, the other agents playfully taunt. She doesn’t find it all that funny but this is better than federal prison. “How can I help you?” She’s got one hand holding the weight of her head, the other clicking her pen lazily against the desktop.

She’s not special here. She’s got nothing. She hates this job.

“Miss Garcia,” a weak voice greets. “I don’t know if you remember,” the caller coughs, wet and thick. That’s when she hears the wheezes. “I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good boss but it’s Agent Hotchner.”

She remembers. He’s who’s she’s supposed to be working with. That is before she got pulled to work at this desk all day doing nothing. She’s got about three more months of this garbage before she can be trusted with any of the real stuff. Before she can go work with the teams on the units-- mostly, to work with Hotch and his team. Of which, she still hasn’t met.

“I remember,” she says. She’s not sure what else she’s supposed to say.

He chuckles on the other end but it ends in an awful sounding cough. “Sorry,” he wheezes. “I’m afraid…” he takes a deep breath. “Have you seen the news?”

“No, sir.”

He hums. “Well,” he says, “we’ve gotten ourselves into a spot of trouble.”

From what she can tell, she feels that’s probably an understatement. Through his silence, the short pauses between his quick, shallow breathing, she can hear the commotion of a hospital. She can even hear his heart monitor. An undergrad degree in biology on a track to medical school doesn’t get you much in cyberspace as a hacker but she knows, from the sound of that monitor, somethings not okay.

“I was just wondering if you could do me a favor?”

His voice sounds so soft, nearly subdued almost as if he’s falling asleep, that she can’t say no. “Of course, sir.” She’s really only seen him a handful of times. The first time after he recruited her and several times in passing. Every time she can remember seeing him in the hall or in the parking lot he’d always offered a small, shy wave. Despite her frustrations with being placed on desk duty, she doesn’t hate him.

“I, ugh,” he clears his throat. His voice has softened. He’s certainly losing his battle with consciousness. “Haley,” he rasps her name. “My wife,” he clarifies. “I--I lost my phone and I just want to talk to her.” The hurt in his voice, the desperation breaks her heart. “...hit my head,” he slurs. “I...I--I hit my head and I can’t really… dialing the numbers is hard.”

The man just wants to talk to his wife. He just wants some comfort.

“Kind of silly,” he mumbles. “Could dial here but couldn’t remember the home one. The--ugh-- couldn’t remember the home line.”

She smiles and starts to do as he asks but then remembers the limited information she’s got right now. There’s no way she can access his file, let alone get to his personal information to find his wife’s number. “Sir,” she says, feeling tears start to pool in her eyes. She hates to do this because she wants to help him so badly. “I don’t have access to that information.”

They sit in silence for a long pause.

Hotch is struggling to hold on and thinking hurts but he’s sure there’s something she can do about that still… “Break a rule for me,” he says, tone playful. “I know you hate it down there. Hack my file.” He sniffles, the sound of sheets shifting blocking the line as he moves in discomfort. “Please, Penelope?”

Oh… how is she supposed to say no to that?

“You’d better have my back when they chew me out for this,” she says, setting into the task at hand. It’s pretty easy. Nothing like hacking the database months ago. She’s got half the work handed to her.

“Always,” he rasps.

She finds it easy enough. “Alright,” she says. “I’m dialing her right now.” They both sit in silence as the ringing fills the line. Two rings turn into three and she feels her heartbreaking for this poor man. The line clicks to an end and she smiles sadly at the sound of her much healthier boss’s voice greets the end call. Haley, she’s assuming, cuts in and ends the recording.

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

“ ‘s okay,” he slurs. “She’s… She’s pro’ly gonna call back ‘vently.”

Chewing at her lip nervously she offers, “I can stay. If you’d like. I’ll talk to you.”

He chuckles softly and she winces as it ends in more uncomfortable shifting and more of those terrible wheezes. “...don’t hafta.” He chokes on a breath and their conversation takes a pause as a nurse steps in. Her soft voice telling Hotch that he needs to rest and the doctor’s ordered some mild sedatives.

“Can’t,” he whispers to the nurse. “I’m talk’n to my friend Penelope.”

She smiles, blushing.

The nurse responds in kind that Garcia can stay but he still needs to get some rest.

“She’s right, sir.” She cuts in. “I’ll stay and talk to you until fall asleep, okay?”

She can hear the hiss of oxygen which is good because his breathing was really concerning her. When he comes back he sounds better but like he’s half-asleep. That’s probably for the best. “You’re supposed to be on my side,” he says.

“I am,” she responds. “You need some sleep though. For your head.”

He hums in agreeance. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I hit my head.”

“I know.”

She’d talked to him that day until the phone died, even though he only stayed awake three minutes after that. Leaving that day from the office, she’d seen what he’d meant about the news and the “spot of trouble” he’d gotten into. Six agents were dead. She’d cried, right there in the bullpen, for a man she hardly knew.

Since then, she’s really grown to love him. He’s her friend. She loves him.

“Baby girl?”

Garcia turns around and sees Morgan, Emily, and JJ. She stays where she is, tears falling down her face, and leans right into the hugs they pull her into. She needs all the comfort she can get. But the hugging only lasts for so long. There are questions they need to be answered and she’s the only one with the answers.

They give her time. Twenty minutes. Just enough time for Gideon and Reid to come to the hospital

“Okay,” Morgan holds his hands around Garcia’s. Keeping her hands cupped around the warm styrofoam surrounding the shitty hospital coffee Gideon had bought them all. It keeps her hands from shaking so hard. “Can you tell me what happened now?’

Garcia nods and sniffles. She glances up at him once, shying away from his kind gaze. “Hotch went outside,” she starts, “right after you guys left.” Forcing herself to take a steadying breath, she’s able to continue on. Trying very hard to keep her composer. She knows it’s important she tells someone. “I could hear him getting sick,” she whispers because it feels like something she shouldn’t be saying. “You know how he is,” she says, looking up at Morgan. “When he gets like that? So nervous and anxious that he just…”

Morgan nods. He’s seen Hotch work his nerves up like that many times. It’s hard to tell how many times Morgan’s tailed Hotch outside, standing to the side as the man fails to work through an anxiety attack. He’s gonna kill himself one of these days getting worked up like that. Won’t ever let anyone help him, either.

Garcia had wanted to help him tonight. She just… she couldn’t stand to see him like that. Shaking so hard and pale. He’d excused himself after about ten minutes of the two of them just sitting in silence, listening to the other’s going over the plan to get Reid.

“I couldn’t see him like that,” Garcia says softly. “I wanted to help,” her voice cracks and she starts to shake again. “When I--” her breath catches.

“Alright,” Morgan stops her. He rubs her thumbs over her hands. “Take your time. You don’t have to rush.”

Garcia nods and takes a moment, breathing in through her nose. “I’m okay,” she says with a tight smile. Morgan doesn’t believe it. She can tell. Squeezing his hand she repeats herself. “I mean it.” Besides, what comes next is the hard part.

Clearing her throat, she manages to continue. “I was coming outside when I heard the first gunshot,” her voice is already shaking again. “I don’t know-- I didn’t really know what to do? I mean, Hotch has a gun and I don’t so… but I didn’t want something to be wrong and leave him all by himself.” She sniffles a little, laughing sadly at the irony of her own words.

Morgan brushes the tear that falls down her cheek away.

“When I got out there…” she stops, just thinking about what she’d seen.

The porch only had one lightbulb which hung from a strand of wires just hardly holding on. Still, as she stepped out the low light had shown her all she needed to see. The dark silhouette of Hotch’s face and his long body on the ground. There was blood on his face and more pooling onto his white dress shirt. Spreading and falling down the sides of his chest. So much blood.

There was a second man. He’d started talking like he didn’t even see her.

“I condemn you.”

She’d been frozen, in both fear and confusion.

She hadn’t done anything until she saw him pulling the hammer back. Aiming to shoot Hotch again. “Hey,” she’d run at the man with everything she had. Not for a moment did she think about what would happen if the man turned the gun to her. What would have happened then? If he’d shot her?

There’d be two bodies in the morgue.

“Hotch isn’t dead.”

Garcia flinches and looks up at Morgan in confusion. “What,” she rasps, softly.

“You said--” he frowns in confusion. “You said there would be two bodies in the morgue but Hotch isn’t dead. He’s still in surgery.” He leaves out how grim things are looking. That losing Hotch will set off a domino effect. They’ll lose Reid and Gideon isn’t enough. They’ll lose the team. The only family some of them have ever had.

Oh. She nods. Right, no, she knew that. That’s easy for him to say though. He hadn’t placed his hands over the gaping hole in Hotch’s chest. He hadn’t looked Hotch in the eyes, watching as his life blurred out. She had. She’d felt her friend’s heart slowing. Heard his breathing catch, stop, and his eyes dim. She’d been there. She’d held his hand in the ambulance.

She was right there.

She… doesn’t think he’ll make it.

“Yeah,” she whispers thickly. This time she doesn’t let Morgan brush away her tears. She hadn’t told him the worst parts. That she’d hit Tobias Hankel until he stopped moving. She’d watched his blood splatter out around him and she’d caused that.

Then she’d gone to Hotch. Her knees are still soaked with his blood. The grass had just… it was like sitting in mud. Warm mud. His eyes had searched for her in his confusion, his mouth moving to form silent words. She’d held his hand the whole time. Never leaving his side until the E.R. He’d stopped breathing in the ambulance just as it had pulled into the lot.

The worst part is that he hadn’t panicked. While everyone else in the ambulance moved with newfound vigor, he’d finally relaxed. The stress lines in his face had smoothed over and his eyes had calmed of their rapid movement. Through the chaos, he’d just looked at her and as the doctor’s pulled him away he’d squeezed her hand. And she’s still trying to figure out if he’d meant he would be okay or if she would.

“We need to get you checked out,” Morgan says, running a hand over her arm.

She looks up and shakes her head, “no. I didn’t get hurt. I promise.”

He knows she’s not hurt. The blood all over her clothes may not be hers but he’s sat in blood before too. As reassuring as it is to know it doesn’t belong to you… it’s also insanely psychologically damaging to know it belongs to someone else. Let alone that someone else being someone you love.

“I know,” he soothes. “You’re shaking pretty bad and at the very least, a nurse can get us some warm water to get this blood off. Okay?”

For the first time, she looks at the blood staining her clothes. Looking down at her shaking her hands, she sees the blood caked under her nails and dried to her skin. It makes her sick. “Okay.”

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

“Haley’s here.”

Emily is the first person to frown in confusion. She’s been on the team for only a few shorts months. Her relationships with them are rocky but forming. Given how tightly Hotch holds to his personal information she’s not certain but… “Haley is…” she glances to Morgan and then to Gideon when the other man doesn’t respond.

Gideon nods his head solemnly.

Emily’s heart kicks a beat, so hard she has to shake her head to regroup. Just some four hours ago Hotch had commended her on her ability to compartmentalize everything she sees and here she is shirking away because her boss's wife is here. But it’s not about some power dynamic. “But,” she swallows thickly around the tightness in her throat, “we don’t have news for her.”

Morgan stands up from his chair, eyes on the floor and back to her as he shrugs, “she knows the drill.”

A cold film of sweat covers Emily’s skin at just the thought. She knows about things that have happened for this team before she was on it. She just… it’s kind of different when she has some surface-level understanding of who they are. Even if she thinks Hotch is a dick, she doesn’t hate him. He’s better than a lot of bosses she’s had and maybe-- well, don’t hold her to it, but maybe she feels bad about the name-calling thing. Emily watches silently, unable to hear the words being shared between them. She can still see, though. The way Morgan’s hands shake as he recounts the details. Haley just… takes it. She nods along, clinically removed. She’s strong, more than she should have to be.

Turning from Morgan, Haley steps closer into the waiting room. Looking around at the others, what’s left of them. “And the rest of you,” she asks. “The rest of you are okay?”

Gideon takes on the question. He squeezes her shoulder, “Reid and Garcia are in the E.R. They’re getting there…”

Haley nods and wraps her arms around herself. She takes a steadying breath. “He’s gonna-- He’s going to want to know,” she says and Emily feels intense empathy for this woman. “You know he’s going to want to know as soon as he wakes up if they're’ okay.”

If he wakes up.

Gideon nods, “I know.”

“Okay,” Haley whispers and she’s numb, Emily realizes, as Gideon guides her to a chair. She’s numb so she doesn’t break. “I would--” Haley grabs Gideon’s hand. “I would like to see Spencer and Penelope. To make sure they’re okay.”

Gideon nods, “I’m sure they’d like that.” And they will. While Hotch prefers to stay in the background and worry but there’s no secret Haley is too. They both have a strong love for the babies on the unit.

And now… they have nothing to do but wait.

“Haley?” Reid wakes up restrained. His thin arms held down to the bed with itchy velcro. While he isn’t familiar with this in a personal sense, he’s seen his mother laid out like this. He doesn’t even have to test the restraints, he knows he’s not going anywhere. More pressing than that… Haley Hotchner sitting at his bedside.

Haley perks up, smiling when she sees his dark eyes open in slivers. “Hey, sweetheart,” she greets. She stands and comes closer to the bed, taking his thin, cold hand in her own. “How are you feeling?” This man may not be of any blood relation to her or Aaron but she loves him. Her husband loves him. He’s family.

Reid turns his head away from her, tears falling down the corners of his eyes. “You hate me,” he whispers.

She knows only what she needs to. Of course, under the jurisdiction and because the case hasn’t officially “closed” she can’t know that Reid chose Hotch. That his words condemned Aaron to being shot tonight. She does know that Reid is unnecessarily blaming himself for the accident. Because, as they'll soon be able to explain, Tobias was going to hurt someone either way. Haley would agree.

“No,” she soothes. “Of course, I don’t hate you.”

Reid turns to her, eyes haunted and voice hoarse, “but I killed him.”

Haley can’t help the choked sound she makes. Vehemently, she wants to deny that but she doesn’t even know if her husband is alive right now. “You didn’t,” she reassures him because at the very least she knows that’s the truth. This job has already taken her husband’s life. There’s no point in placing the blame on anyone else. “If Aaron dies tonight,” just the thought makes her chest tight.

This isn’t what she’d imagined falling in love with Pirate #4 would look like. A widower in her thirties. Raising their son all alone.

She clears her voice, steadying herself and pushing away the thought. “If Aaron dies tonight, that will have no one’s fault. No one but the Unsubs.” She glances over her shoulder, to the crowd of people-- his team. Their family. She’s seen the guilty little glances they pass her. The hug Garcia had trapped her in… they think they could have stopped this. “This, what happened tonight, is no one’s fault. Not yours, not Aaron's.”

Leave it to her husband to form a team of guilt-ridden sweethearts. She really does love them.

“Do you understand me,” she asks, eyebrow raised.

There are nods and general mumbles but what really catches her attention is the soft, sad smile Garcia manages. “You sounded like him,” the tech analyst whispers. “He’s always so worried about us,” she brushes a tear from her eyes. “Sometimes, sometimes we forget to worry about him.”

But he never lets them.

He’s so under lock and key… preoccupied with an image he’s conjured of what leadership is supposed to look like that he forgets the humanity. The bleeding. The yelling. The life.

Until it’s too late.

A doctor comes to get them. He’s alive, if only marginally. If only just holding on.

His humanity is now visible to them all.

In the mess, there is only a light blanket draped over his thin hips. It leaves his chest bare, visible for them to look long at hard at. To force this memory into their minds. To remember that under those suits there is just a man. A man who is broken and who hurts.

And, in the end, it’s her by his side when he wakes up confused and in pain.

“Aaron,” she pushes his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. Even with his eyes on her, he twists, kicking out in pain. He tries to turn his head, pinched eyes sending tears down his face. If he could cry out, he would, but all he can do is choke around the tube in his throat.

It’s like this--

He wakes for a moment, a glimpse of consciousness, and pain. She’s right by his side. She holds his hand and reminds him that he’s okay. That the team is waiting just outside. Then he falls back into the drugs.

It goes on for three days. Hours and hours of his pained kicks and tears. Nothing she can do for him.

On the fourth day, they take the tube out.

The team visits.

He’s sitting up, not of his own violation. There are pillows all around, supporting his back and sides, and two placed around his head to keep his neck supported. He is leaning heavily to his right, curled into the side of his injured chest. Haley’s tucked his blanket up over his chest, doing her best to conceal the bruises up and down his pale skin. No matter how hard she tries, the chest tube nestled between his ribs makes it’s bloodied appearance.

And it’s the first thing they all notice when they come in.

Then him.

Slack against the pillows holding him and eyes out the window on the wall. Half-lidded as he falls asleep.

“Sir,” Garcia whispers. She’s at the front of the crowd and the only one strong enough to push through her shock to get to him. She wastes no time coming to him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s so good to see you,” she manages between tears.

He smiles when she hugs him. It’s gentle, she’s very aware of the layer upon layers of bandages currently holding him together. “Penelope,” he croaks, sleepy eyes moving down her colorfully addressed body and his smile broadening when he finds no scratches. No harm. His chest aches and he finds it impossible to push out any more words but he hopes she understands.

He can remember a flash of the ambulance ride here. He can’t remember how or why his body hurts so bad but he knows Garcia was there. The faintest feeling of her hand in his, her voice guiding him between glimpses of consciousness.

Garcia smiles kindly, reaching down to squeeze his hand. “I’m really glad to see you, sir.” Even as he is, hardly presently and held together by surgical stitches-- it beats how she’d left him. For the past few nights, she’s woken in a cold sweat hearing his gurgled breaths. The sound and sight of his chest cavity filling with his lungs.

Jason comes next because none of the others can find their courage. “I know you have a sentimental attachment to your ties,” Gideon says, smiling down at his old friend. “But you really do look decades younger without it.” Nearly, identical to the boy that David Rossi had told him about all those years ago. Eager to learn but not fully trusting of their motives.

Still a trouble maker though.

Shame swells in his stomach, another of his failings so broadly laid out in front of them. If David Rossi could see the two of them now, he’d skin them both. Jason had promised to look out for “the boy”, as Dave fondly called Aaron. But the boy has grown out of his shell…

Jason had kicked him out of it with Boston and he knows Aaron wasn’t ready for that.

He ducks his head and leaves Aaron’s side with a light pat of the younger man’s hand.

Derek guides Reid to Hotch, ignoring the genius’s weak protests.

Hotch’s light up, a spark of life in his body as he spots the kid. “Reid,” he rasps. He shifts his hand, dragging it out to touch Reid. To make sure he’s really here. “... okay?” he manages, breathing, taking the strain of so much movement and all his talking.

Reid nods and it takes all of his self-control not to flinch away from Hotch. His skin is freezing. Hotch is always so warm, even just to stand beside. It’s scary and the weight of his guilt pulls Reid down. “I’m--I’m--”

Hotch smiles weakly, a crooked little grin that meets the lazy mirth in his eyes. “Please,” he whispers. “... d’n’t lie t’ me.”

Reid sniffles, tears threatening to fall down his face. As he’s pulling himself into a lie, he’s surprised to find Hotch’s hand just barely raised off the bed. Beckoning him close. For a hug. He wants to stand stoic. For once in his life, to just be the bigger man but he takes one look at his friend at the man he’s lost sleep worrying over, the man who he trusted to save him from Tobias, and he…

He lets Hotch pull him in.

“You’ll be okay,” Hotch promises. Reid tucks his face into Hotch’s neck, wanting desperately to pull more comfort from this hug but it ends because it has to. Hotch holds his hand a second too long, the two of them just looking at each other. “Strong,” Hotch rasps and Reid nods his head.

If Hotch can believe it… Reid has to.

Derek almost doesn’t say anything at all. He can’t find his voice. A part of him wants to just make out unbothered and another part of him wants to gather his boss into his arms and just hug him. Make sure he’s really here. “Don’t scare me like that.” Derek decides on an in-between. He reaches out and playfully messes with Hotch’s hair, making his bed head even worse. “Next time,” Derek says, losing his gusto. He smiles fondly at his friend and reaches down to squeeze his hand. “Next time you pull a stunt like this, I’ll kick your ass. I don’t care who’s boss you are.”

It makes Hotch smile and it creates perfect timing for JJ to steal her own hug. She slips right in beside Derek, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I wouldn’t let him do that,” she promises.

He nods, “...you’d do it yourself.”

She smiles and agrees, “but only if you really deserved it.”

He doubts that.

Emily stands back and attempts to make her getaway unnoticed. She hadn’t wanted to come to the hospital. She isn’t a part of this family, not really, not yet. Garcia had dragged her here though, those sad puppy eyes and a pouty lip. So, Emily caved and she’s regretted that decision since. Especially, when she catches his eyes mid-break-away.

“...okay?” he asks, once again. That seems to be what his main focus is on. The one thing his exhausted brain can pick to identify in each of them.

She wants to scoff or be frustrated with his worry but she looks at his eyes and she realizes that it's a genuine question. He really wants to know. It’s… a strange olive branch to find in the midst of their heated hatred of one another but perhaps she has underestimated him. Maybe, she doesn’t understand him as well as she thinks she does. With a nod, she promises, “I’m okay.”

The ease that sinks into his shoulders is not what she’s expecting.

He struggles to say something else, a mumbled, suppressed something that catches Haley’s attention. She stands and gently runs her palm against his cheek. “Don’t worry about that sweetheart,” she whispers. “Your teams here now, okay? They’re okay.” She wipes his brow, running the side of her fingers along his cheekbone. Smiling when it makes his eyes creep shut, soothing him back down. “Get some rest.”

He nods his head and his eyes fall shut. He’s exhausted. All this talking is hard and he’s hardly managed to stay awake this long all week. “Mmm,” he forces his eyes back open. They move around the room, taking inventory of the crowd. “Okay,” he asks softly.

Haley smiles and keeps up her gentle soothing. “We’re okay.”

His eyes slip back shut. “Okay.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotch whump #whump #angst #fluff #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jason gideon #derek morgan #jennifer jareua #emily prentiss #haley hotchner

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bltngames · 3 years ago

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About SAGE 2021 Coverage

Hey! SAGE starts in about a week, and I generally do my best to write something up about the event. In recent years, it’s become difficult to cover everything, and that’s fine, because SAGE has grown to become this massive thing, bigger than I ever could have dreamed when I originally started it back ~20 years ago.

But 2021 has been especially rough for me. We were temporarily displaced from our apartment in February 2021 because the complex forced renovations on us. Around that time I was meant to go in for dental surgery, which had to be postponed. The whole thing turned out to be a gigantic nightmare. Technically they still owe us compensation for food, even though they say we no longer qualify for that.

After how we were treated, it was a struggle to unpack, because we really needed to find some place better. On top of that, both my Mom and I were scheduled for covid vaccinations, so we were trying to take it easy while we recovered from those.

Then, my desktop broke. I think it’s just a bogus HDD that might’ve been damaged in all the moving, but there’s no way of telling. I have a replacement HDD right here ready to put in so I can install Windows, but I needed a little time to recover from how genuinely traumatic the renovation was for us. Around this time, I also spent nearly three weeks pet sitting for a cousin (across two sessions), as well.

Before that could happen, my mom was injured in May. It started out with shoulder pain, but that graduated to back and hip pain that got so bad she couldn’t even lay down in bed anymore. After a week and a half of not sleeping, she got confused one day and became worried she’d had a stroke. Checking in to the ER, they confirmed she was just tired, but that she had sciatica problems.

As the sciatica passed, she developed a rash that turned out to be cellulitis. Though the back problems eventually faded, the leg pain never really went away, and if anything, it was getting worse. She had four more trips to the ER with them being increasingly rude and unhelpful as her rash continued to grow and the leg pain never subsided. She eventually got in to see a different doctor, who demanded she get checked in to the ER for her rash, which started as a little spot on her ankle and was now spreading up over her knees, swelling and oozing. She was given specific instructions to make sure they took her seriously.

The ER finally admitted her to the hospital properly and put her on antibiotics. Unfortunately, as the rash was healing, while they were moving her for x-rays, they broke one of her legs. When I saw her Thursday, she was in the worst pain I’ve ever seen anyone in. The doc came in and confirmed they had broken her femur, and suggested it could be either cancer or osteoporosis, since the femur is typically the longest, strongest bone in the body.

Osteoporosis effects more than half of all women over the age of 50, so it’s believable that could be what was happening to her. A common symptom is that the loss of bone density makes you get shorter, and we’ve joked for a while that either I’m getting taller or she’s getting smaller, because she’s been going down in height. (Despite this, all her trips to the ER insisted she had very minimal compression of the spine, another typical osteoporosis symptom).

She had surgery Friday morning, and they put a metal rod in her leg, claiming the bone was so thin that the two pieces weren’t even connected anymore. Despite this, they maintain she does not have cancer or apparently even osteoporosis. The hospital is actually being weirdly quiet about what happened to her, even going so far as to make it harder to talk to her. We used to be able to just call her room phone directly, but now we have to go through a phone tree and know her special PIN. She says her leg broke because the nurses were way too rough with her when they moved her. My brother is looking in to things.

The point in all of this is that I’m currently typing this from an 11 year old business laptop that can’t run most games made after 2005. Most SAGE games are out of the question, and while I could try installing Windows 10 on the new drive I have literally sitting next to me, I just don’t have the energy for a lot these days. It has been a hard six months, with the last two months being particularly difficult. I never even had my dental surgery.

Pretty much the only thing I’ve had energy for is streaming Fortnite, because I can do that straight from the PS4 with the push of a button. But I am not equipped to handle SAGE, emotionally or technologically. Depending on how things shake out, this could be the end of a lot of things in my life for the foreseeable future.

We’ll see what happens, but for the time being, consider me having sat things out this year.

#cw medical #writing #update #what's going on #sage #sonic amateur games expo #sega #sonic team #fan games

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sandalwoodhusbands · 4 years ago

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we are citizens of halloween town || 6k

There’s a pile of books glaring at him from the coffee table. Three books, all neatly set one on top of the other, notes in black ink surrounding them. Lucas reaches for the thickest one.

It’s ugly. Brown and worn around the edges, kinda smelly like any book from the library this old would be. The bane of his existence, really, hate at first sight, some would say.

He glares back, nose scrunched up, before-

Well. He lays on it, okay?

He takes the fucking book, curls his arms on top of it and rests his head on the crook of his elbow. So what. It’s not like anyone’s going to judge him for it.

His boyfriend is drawing with crayons in the seat opposite of him. Give him a fucking break.

Fucking October.

He’s not someone particularly mindful of the seasons of the year (he’s not his ridiculous nerd of a boyfriend), would even say he enjoys autumn. But there’s something about October – the change in the weather, suddenly you blink and it’s night and you have five assignments due that you swear weren’t there before.

There’s no break from summer going into another school year. There’s sun in the afternoons, all warm, but not scorching hot, and whispering in your ear to come out and play, enjoy it before it’s gone. But you’re stuck inside, staring out the window trying to finish your fucking bio essay.

And then it’s night, and it should be chilly, because it’s autumn, but somehow it isn’t and either you have your boyfriend wrapped around you, or a blanket, but you can’t have both. But you kinda want both. So you settle for your boyfriend on top of you, and try to shield the uncovered parts of your body from the cold as much as you can.

It’s always fucking October.

So he’s tired, napping on a suspiciously smelly book because he’s earned this, alright? Just a little break.

“You good there, baby?” asks Eliott, because he’s a fucking angel.

“Hmm.” He says, words slurred against the table. “Just chilling.”

Eliott laughs lightly at that, and Lucas smiles into his forearm. The laughter warms his skin up, like a breath of summer wind, all the way from his belly and down to the tip of his toes, right where they wiggle against the fuzzy carpet through the hole in his sock.

He’s so ridiculously enamored.

Eliott hums from the other side of the table, catching Lucas’ calf with his feet and trapping it between his legs. “You do look very cozy right now.”

Lucas tilts his head up slightly, flashing Eliott a tired grin. “Shh.” He tuts. “I’m sleeping.”

Eliott laughs again, this time louder.

“Oh, alright. My bad” he says, but his legs keep playing tug with Lucas’ under the table. “Baby needs his rest.”

Lucas bites his lip to keep the laugher in his throat, as to not give himself away – although Eliott already knows. He always does, when it comes to Lucas.

It’s then that a little voice decides to make itself known.

“Eli!” the voice chastises quietly. Lucas hears a light thud, and then a shushed voice that says “use your inside voice, Lulu’s sleeping!”

Through closed eyes, Lucas can picture the little boy at the other end of the table. Shaggy brown hair, messy and way too long at the front, because he refuses to get a haircut. He can imagine the boy tugging at Eliott’s shirt, or maybe smacking his small palm flat against Eliott’s arm, big green eyes that match the color of his dino pajamas staring up at his big brother.

A silent snort, and then a gasp. Lucas buries his smile on his forearm.

“So you’re saying I have to be real quiet, so we don’t wake up Lulu?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.” Eliott agrees, and there’s enough mischief in his voice that it makes Lucas open his eyes. He barely has time to raise his head up to see the way his boyfriend picks his brother up by the waist, fingers diving to his sides.

Loud giggles erupt across the room, happy and carefree, and Lucas can only watch fondly as the little boy squirms in Eliott’s hold, eyes bright with laughter and cheeks dusted with pink.

“But Jules!” Eliott says between shrieks of laughter. His eyes shine when he looks down at his brother. Lucas falls just a little bit more in love. “You have to be quiet too!”

Eventually, the laughter dies down, leaving the living room in a state of comfortable quietness. Jules pouts up at Eliott “You cheated.” He complains, petulantly. In a way only a kid could.

Eliott chuckles airily, pushing strands of curly hair off Jules’ eyes with an amused shake of his head. His eyes find Lucas’ over Jules’ head, happy and clear. Lucas smiles at him, and Eliott grins back.

Jules’ cheek is smushed in the crook of his brother’s neck. He’s quiet for some time, eyes droopy as Eliott resumes back to his sketchbook. Both he and Lucas follow the line of Eliott’s hand in wonder.

“Ma said to ask if you’ll take me trick or treat this year.” He speaks softly. There’s every ounce of innocence in his tone when he asks. “Please?”

The question makes Eliott freeze. He immediately turns to look at Lucas, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Lucas knows what he’s thinking. Emma’s party.

Emma’s party, the one they had planned weeks ahead. Because when you’re in uni and every one of your friends have chosen a different degree it’s harder to match plans. Because they probably won’t see everyone until Christmas break again.

Jules follows Eliott’s line of vision, startling when he finds Lucas most definitely not asleep. He smiles at first, all big and sweet, like every time he sees Lucas, before his face sets in a look of determination. Jumping off his brother’s hold, he circles the glass table until his knees bump with Lucas’ shins.

He holds his arms up wordlessly, and Lucas picks him up on autopilot.

Bony knees dig into his stomach, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care, doesn’t care when Jules spreads his small hands across Lucas’ cheeks and looks at him with big, glassy eyes, asking “uncle Lulu, will you pretty please take me trick or treat this year?”

How could he say no? Not to this boy cradled in his arms, the sweetest kid he’s ever met. A little Eliott, so small when he first met him that he fit in the crook of Eliott’s elbow. He was just four months old then.

Four years later and many, many babysitting sessions later – because date night is a very serious thing within the Demaury’s. Every Demaury. Except maybe baby Jules, for now – he’s never loved a kid as much as he loves him. He never thought his heart was capable of holding so much love inside, for Eliott, for this family.

For he considers himself part of it, and he thinks (knows) it’s mutual.

So it’s no surprise. Not to him, or to Eliott, maybe even to Jules, when he answers “of course we will.” And then, because Jules is grinning, and Eliott is too, and he’s got his family in his arms and his world staring at him, he boops Jules’ nose. Because he’s so fucking happy this is his life. “Anything for baby Jules.”

Jules scrunches up his nose, eyes going crossed, before lying his head on Lucas’ chest. Eliott is already waiting for him to look back, sketchbook forgotten in the corner.

There’s a light in his eyes that Lucas is all too familiar with. He gets it himself every time he sees Jules riding in Eliott’s back, or sleeping against his shoulder on long car trips.

Do you think about the future?

I do.

And, in that future…?

It’s never finished, the question.

And in that future, am I in it? Do you see us in your future? Do you see me? Do we make it? Do I?

It’s never said, but they both know it, because one hour later, or two, or one breath away, when they find themselves holed up in their room, their duvet up to their shoulders and Eliott tracing lines across Lucas’ bare stomach, there’ll be a stupid tv show playing on the laptop, and they’ll look at each other in the dark with a smile.

I think you’d be a good dad.

Yeah. You would, too.

And that’s the end of the conversation, every time, because one second later Lucas would have his mouth over Eliott’s, a hand to his neck, and all thoughts would fly out the window at the finger trailing down his back softly.

“I want cookies for dinner.” Jules says tiredly against Lucas’ shoulders. His eyelashes flutter when he speaks, hand closed in a tight grip on Lucas’ sweatshirt.

He hears Eliott’s quiet groan. “God fucking damn it.”

They have cookies for dinner.

***

Eliott has been going on about the differences between spandex and latex for the last 20 minutes.

There’s only so many times you can hear the words “lycra suit” being thrown in a conversation before you get the need to push your boyfriend up against the wall and kiss him senseless to shut him up.

He just wants to take a nice shower. Make out a little, then eat dinner in bed. Eliott’s already rid of his shirt, so he stands in the middle of the room with a bare chest and black track pants hanging low on his hips.

He’s very appreciative of his boyfriend’s beauty, even when said boyfriend is running his ear off.

He’s sitting on the desktop table, back turned to the window. He’d been revising some notes when Eliott had barged into the room like a hurricane. He hadn’t questioned Lucas’ choice of study location (it’s not the first time. He doesn’t have a problem with chairs. It’s not a gay thing, Basile. The table is just comfier- shut up), just had shoved his phone in Lucas’ face, rambling about delivery dates and costume prices.

Lucas had blinked, very much confused, but had wasted no time in trapping Eliott’s waist between his legs. Eliott had just given him a happy look and continued talking.

Now he sits here. His legs are still wrapped around Eliott’s hips, arms circling his middle, and he’s long given up on keeping his back straight, or understanding what’s going on, so he pillows his head on Eliott’s stomach. With every word that Eliott says, the vibrations travel down to his ear.

“This is nice.” Lucas murmurs against Eliott’s stomach, when Eliott finally goes on a rant break. He rubs his cheek on the warm skin, smiling a little. His boyfriend smells nice, like their body soap and a hint of cranberry juice that he’d spilled on his pants during lunch.

Eliott looks down from his phone. He drops a kiss to Lucas’ hair, tightening his grip on his shoulders with his free arm. “You’re nice.”

“You’re nicer.”

“And you’re lucky you’re cute, because I know you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said for the past twenty minutes.”

Lucas snickers to himself, snuggling closer to Eliott when he feels fingers drawing shapes at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, but what did you expect when my shirtless boyfriend is right here?” He says, and kisses softly between Eliott’s pecs to seal his words. “C’mon.”

Eliott tuts. “I know what you’re doing, Lallemant.”

Lucas turns his head up to grin at Eliott, fitting his hands on the small of Eliott’s back. He presses one kiss to his stomach. Two, three, tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips in the last one.

“What am I doing?”

Eliott exhales.

“You’re trying to distract me with sex.”

“Yeah.” Lucas breathes. No use in denying the obvious. He looks at Eliott through his eyelashes, slowly leaning in to leave another kiss to the expanse of his chest, teeth grazing the skin teasingly. “Is it working?”

Eliott shudders, and one blink later Lucas has a face full of Eliott’s hand.

He gives Lucas a disapproving look, spread palm covering his mouth. Whatever made him think that would help his case, he doesn’t know. Still, Lucas gives in this once, only because he looks very cute under their bedroom light right now.

He makes a muffled sigh against Eliott’s hand, rolling his eyes jokingly as Eliott retracts his hand back. Eliott squints at him. Lucas squints back, neither of them moving.

At the end it’s Lucas who breaks. He sighs again, looking up at Eliott and curling his arms around his neck. “Okay. What is it?”

Eliott laughs loudly, a sound that makes their bodies shake and Lucas’ face break into a smile even if he’s not sure what they’re laughing at.

“You really have no shame, do you?” Eliott laughs again, and he goes to slide his hands under Lucas’ ass to lift him up.

Lucas secures his grip on Eliott’s waist and neck as his body leaves the desktop table, flashing him a shit-eating grin. “You already know I wasn’t listening. No surprise.”

“Yeah, but don’t say it to my face.”

He presses teeny, tiny kisses to Eliott’s cheek as an apology. “Sorry, baby. I promise I’ll listen this time.”

“You fucking better.” Eliott threatens. He walks them around the apartment like the boy wrapped around his body fucking weights nothing. It’s a really fucking cute habit – albeit a bit weird at the beginning, when Eliott would just pick him up out of the blue at the most random times.

It helps me think, shush, Eliott had said the time Lucas had asked him about it. And that’d been it.

He’s his boyfriend’s personal light bulb, he supposes.

“I was talking to my mom this afternoon, and I think Jules is going through a Spiderman phase.”

Lucas smiles internally at the image of little Jules tricking his parents into buying anything Spiderman related he sees at the store.

He can imagine how the conversation went down. A blankie? He needs it, because it’s cold. And a toothbrush, because it doesn’t matter if he has one already! Two toothbrushes means more teeth-brushing time, and that’s good. That t-shirt, please mama, and maybe the pajamas too? The mask?

Wait a fucking minute.

“Oh hell no-“

“He’d lose his mind if we got him a Spiderman suit. Can you imagine? And to make it even better! Wouldn’t it be fucking cute if we matched? Like mini and maxi Demaury? So I’d get one too, and then-“

“I am not wearing Spandex.”

Eliott shushes him, sitting them on the edge of the bed. “And then I had a brilliant idea.” Lucas doubts that. He’s already dreading the next words that will come out of Eliott’s mouth. “Deadpool! Me as Spiderman, you as Deadpool, the fucking hottest couple of all Paris.”

Ah, there it is. He can’t even pretend like he didn’t see that one coming.

He drops his head to Eliott’s shoulder, an amused little huff falling from his lips. He knew he had lost the battle the very second Eliott entered the room.

“You in?” Eliott asks, bumping their heads together softly.

He’s one beat away from saying ‘of fucking course I’ll be you your better superhero half, you fucking beautiful dork’ when a weird thought flashes across his mind.

“Wait, what? Since when do Deadpool and Spiderman go together?”

Eliott pulls him back by his shoulders, frowning. “Are you serious?” His mouth gapes at Lucas’ blank stare. “My God, Mika really taught you nothing.” He murmurs.

“What? Eliott, I’ve seen all the movies. I can assure you I’ve never seen Deadpool and Spiderman in a scene together.”

“Well yeah, I mean the comics?” Eliott asks, like it’s obvious, and for one second he looks confused. Then realization dawns on him. “Lucas Lallemant, you haven’t read the comics?” The disbelief in his voice makes Lucas’ cheeks turn pink, his silence being enough answer. Eliott squeaks in outrage. “And you call yourself a fan?”

“I just never found the time, okay.” Lucas defends himself, pulling on Eliott’s hair weakly.

“I have so much to show you. So. Many. Gay. Superheroes, Lucas.”

The glee in Eliott’s voice turns Lucas’ smile into mush. “You’re ridiculous.” He says, but doesn’t mean it.

Eliott kisses him then, as if he can see through Lucas’ words. He kisses him soundly, hands cupping Lucas’ face and lips moving against Lucas’ at a slow pace. Lucas kisses back, digs his knees into the mattress to push himself against Eliott, smiling when he feels Eliott’s smile on his lips.

“But,” he says between kisses, panting. Eliott whines, like it’s a personal offense that Lucas stopped kissing him “isn’t Deadpool like, pan?”

Eliott gives him a dirty look that screams you did not just stop kissing me for this.

He kisses the side of Eliott’s mouth to make up for it.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, why aren’t you Deadpool and I’m Spiderman?”

Eliott takes Lucas’ face in his hands, bringing their faces impossibly closer together. From that distance their noses rub together with every breath, heavy and shallow. “Because you, baby,” Eliott whispers, thumb moving to press down on Lucas’ bottom lip wetly to prove a point “are my little merc with a fucking mouth.”

Lucas smirks proudly, parting his lips. “And a mouth I have.”

Eliott pulls him into another kiss. It’s a little rougher around the edges, but they’re both smiling into it. Eliott’s tongue slides between his parted lips, and Lucas catches it with his teeth. He pushes at Eliott’s shoulders until they’re both lying on the bed, chest to chest and Lucas’ knees on either side of Eliott’s waist.

Eliott has his hands spread across the curve of Lucas’ ass, and Lucas has been going at his neck for a while when Eliott starts shaking his head. He pulls back to look at Eliott, confused.

“I just can’t believe you’ve never read a Marvel comic.”

“And I can’t believe I’m surprised that you have.” Lucas grumbles back.

Eliott shoots him a lazy grin, raising one eyebrow. “What was that?”

“I’ll wear the spandex?”

Eliott’s grin turns wicked. He’s already regretting this.

***

He regrets it. For a series of numerous reasons.

Okay, regret is a heavy word. He just… Halloween wasn’t a thing for him growing up, that’s all. When he still lived with his mama she’d always shut down the windows and lock all the doors three times, just in case, because she’s always had a struggling relationship with demonic creatures.

And Lucas, well, he’s always had a struggling relationship with the dark. It’s just fucking scary, okay? It’s scary, and lonely, and everyone always tells you ‘oh don’t worry, there’s nothing there!’ But you can’t fucking see that, can you?

See where this is going?

So yes, he hates the fucking dark, and everywhere he looks there’s shadows lurking in the corner and people in costumes that are fucking ugly, and fuck his life. Fuck his life, and also Eliott Demaury for, on top of everything, making him wear the tightest piece of clothing he’s worn in his life.

He thinks he’s funny, shooting Lucas knowing glances every time he flinches at a loud noise, looking ridiculously beautiful in that stupid Spiderman costume. Although, if he has to be appreciative of something, is the way Eliott’s long torso looks in the red and blue fabric.

He’s got his face mask in one hand, same as Lucas, so the costume only reaches up to his neck. His hair is all messy, grey eyes shining bright under the last rays of sunshine, and Lucas thinks his sexual awakening would have gone a lot smoother had this been the version of Spiderman he grew up with.

Or maybe he’s just in love.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself.” Eliott says in his ear as they walk past a group of kids with their brains in their hands. “Seriously, relax. It looks like you’re sucking on a lemon. Not a good look on you, baby.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lucas laughs, dragging his gaze away from them. “You love me in any shape-“

A loud thud behind them makes Lucas gasp. He turns his head around so fast he’s impressed he didn’t snap his neck, and the sudden coil in his stomach eases when he sees it’s just a near neighbor taking out the trash.

God, he’s a loser.

“Fucking hell.”

Eliott doesn’t laugh this time. He just bumps their shoulders together quietly, offering him a soft smile before resting his hand on the small of his back, dangerously close to his ass.

That’s another thing. For some reason, his boyfriend has decided in the past three hours that he’s really into Lucas in this costume. Really into it.

He’s lost count of the times Eliott has slapped, kneaded and squeezed his ass since they left home. He had to physically hold Eliott’s arms around his waist on the subway because Eliott’s hand kept traveling south. After the fifth time it happened Lucas slapped his hand away.

“I can’t help that you’re so hot!” Eliott had whined.

“Well, you’re gonna fucking have to.”

He would have been more concerned if the attention hadn’t been 100% on him.

(And Eliott does have a point. These costumes really leave nothing to imagination, and it makes their bums looking fucking great.)

Just then Eliott’s hands drops one inch lower, slender fingers brushing against the swell of Lucas’ ass. Lucas narrows his eyes, taking one step away.

Reaching behind his back, he grabs at one of the swords strapped to his back. “See this? I’m gonna poke you in the eye with it if you don’t stop touching my ass” he hisses under his breath, tilting Eliott’s chin up with the tip of the plastic sword. “There’s kids around.”

Eliott points to it. “You should use that to fight the trashcan from earlier.”

“I hate you.”

Eliott pouts, looking at him pleadingly. Lucas straps the sword back with a sigh and puts Eliott’s hand back on his ass. He can’t even pretend to be grumpy when Eliott looks so damn happy as they keep walking.

“You know I’m only kidding, right?” Eliott says suddenly, sliding his hand from Lucas’ ass to curl around his waist. He drops a kiss to Lucas’ cheek. “I love you, slight apprehension of the dark and all.”

Lucas raises Eliott’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it wordlessly. He smiles against the cold skin.

He swears he just heard a wolf howl, but he doesn’t tell Eliott about it.

Eerie music comes from the big speakers propped up in the Demaury’s yard. There’s a big pumpkin at the front door and spider webs hanging from the doorframe and windowsills. There’s a small sized sticker of a ghost plastered to the wall, looks like it’s barely holding on in there – probably put there by Jules. It makes Lucas smile.

Jules squeals when the sees them. He’s dressed in a black Spiderman suit, a literal small version of his older brother, and when they stand together it makes Lucas warm.

“Lulu, you look so cool!” Jules squeaks excitedly, hugging his legs. Lucas crunches down to pick him up, letting him touch everywhere in wonder. Eventually he finds the swords strapped to his back and looks at Lucas with wide eyes. “Can I play with the swords?”

Lucas laughs, dropping Jules to the floor to grab the swords.

“Be careful though.”

With that, Jules sets off running. Never too far away from them, he walks ahead on the street. The swords rattling across the pavement make an unsettling noise, and Lucas holds on tighter to Eliott’s hand when the cross a park with no streetlights.

For being the city of light, they should fucking invest on some streetlights.

Jules clinks one of the swords against something metallic, and Lucas jumps.

“I fucking hate Halloween.” He groans into Eliott’s shoulder.

Eliott just laughs.

They walk so many houses Lucas’ feet start hurting. Jules’ pumpkin bag is brimmed to the brink with very sweet candy that gives Lucas cavities just by looking at it. They make quite a trio, the three of them.

They pass groups of high-schoolers and little kids with their relatives - Lucas sees a lot of questionable costumes. Some of them he wishes he could unsee. It’s less scary like this though. Despite the theme, the streets are full of people. Loud laugher and the occasional shriek, nothing scary about a five year old wearing a skeleton costume and making ‘boo’ noises at them.

It makes Lucas relax.

Since Jules isn’t tall enough to reach the doorbell, he takes turns in dragging him and Eliott by the wrist to call at the door for them. They get complimented for their costumes a lot – someone says they make a beautiful family, and it makes Lucas blush and Eliott say thank you. Jules keeps himself busy nibbling on a strawberry licorice wheel.

On the way back, when it’s much, much later – much darker, and much colder – a girl stops them. She looks older than what they’ve seen all evening, and there’s a small group of them, girls and boys alike standing a few feet away from her, dressed similarly to her.

“Sorry to bother you guys, but I love your costumes.” She says excitedly. Guess you don’t see two grown ass men in expensive costumes going trick-or-treat in the suburbs of Paris, Lucas thinks. “I’ve always loved this pair.”

Eliott turns to look at him with a ‘I told you so’ grin. Lucas huffs amusedly, and Jules looks at them confusedly from his place in Eliott’s hip.

“Thank you.” Lucas says politely, “love your costume too.”

The girl’s grin widens. “Do you mind if I take a pic?”

They look at each other through the masks and shrug at each other.

“Sure.”

Eliott drops Jules to the ground and Lucas walks over to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and shuffling closer. Stupidly, he smiles behind the mask, as though it’ll make a difference for the picture. He stays still.

A moment later Eliott is spinning him around, hooking his fingers under Lucas’ mask and lifting it over his nose before pressing their lips together. Lucas loops his arms around Eliott’s neck automatically, and Eliott wraps his around Lucas’ hips.

He hears someone whispering something that sounds a lot like ‘oh my god they look so fucking hot’, and it makes them smile into the kiss.

“Yuck!” Jules says all of a sudden. He goes to tug at Eliott’s leg. “I’m tired Eli, can we go home now?”

Lucas muffles his laughter in Eliott’s shoulder.

Eliott picks Jules back up again and secures him on his hip, saying goodbye to the friend group.

Jules spends the whole way there, with the candy bag gripped tightly in his hand and his head drooping to Eliott’s chest every few minutes. Eliott carries him with one hand and holds Lucas’ with the free one. When they drop Jules off at home he’s been asleep in Eliott’s arms for a while.

The person from the house two blocks away was right: they make a beautiful family.

It’s darker than it’s been all evening, or at least that’s what Lucas thinks. They’ve decided to walk to Emma’s after dropping Jules off at Eliott’s parents’. It’s a cold night, and he’s seriously considering putting his mask back on to fight the biting cold hitting his cheeks.

It’s quiet for most of the walk, no kids screaming (probably eating their Halloween candy as dinner) or cars rushing through the streets (on the way to getting passed out drunk at a bar or in some house party). Just the sound of their steps and their voices being carried away by the wind.

Eliott’s got his hand in Lucas’ and he’s telling him about something he saw on a store glass a few blocks back. His fingers are cold, because he got the only Spiderman costume in the store without the hand gloves, and the tip of his nose shines pink every time they walk under a lamppost. He looks like the cutest Spiderman Lucas’ ever seen.

Eliott stares mid-rant when he notices Lucas staring at him. He looks back funnily, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“What?”

Lucas shrugs, matching smile of his own. “Nothing.”

Eliott squeezes his hand.

”What time is it?”

The question is sudden, and Lucas looks at Eliott curiously. After a beat of silence he just reaches inside the pocket on the costume’s belt, where he’s got both his and Eliott’s phones. The phone screen lights up their faces when he unlocks it.

“21:21”

Eliott’s expression turns solemn.

“Can we go somewhere before going to Emma’s party?”

“Sure?”

He doesn’t have time to think what any of it means when Eliott is suddenly tugging at their joined hands, rushing them through the empty streets. Lucas keeps his gaze set on the back of Eliott’s head as they run; they’re both panting, the cold air turning their breath into white smoke, and they’re both laughing a little although he’s not sure why.

The tight fabric of their costumes accentuates the curve of Eliott’s back, the muscles underneath flexing and relaxing while they run. Lucas understands Eliott’s fixation a little better.

They’re standing in front of a gate Lucas knows all too well when Eliott asks him to close his eyes.

“Run and keep my eyes closed at the same time? Shit, love, I know you like to skip class but you must have heard about self-preservation.”

Eliott grins at that.

“No running then.”

Eliott walks behind Lucas, wrapping one arm around Lucas’ shoulders and covering his eyes with the other. Lucas thinks he could tell Eliott that he doesn’t need to cover his eyes for him, that he wouldn’t peek anyway if Eliott asked. But he likes Eliott guiding him better, so he keeps his mouth shut.

He thought his heart would stop beating this fast every time they walk in here after such a long time, but it still does.

“This is spooky,” Lucas comments quietly. Branches tweak and crunch under their feet, and breaking the silence feels like an offense. “Is this the part where you finally murder me? Very Halloween-y.”

Eliott’s warm chest rumbles against his back when he laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been playing the long game. No one will suspect me.”

Lucas hums. “Very smart of you.”

“I know.”

They walk a few more steps until Eliott finally stops. He stays still as Eliott circles his body. His eyes stay closed even when Eliott removes his hand, waiting for instructions.

“Wait here.” Eliott whispers. His breath hits Lucas’ mouth, and Lucas reaches forward to grab his hips. “With your eyes closed.”

Lucas lets go of Eliott in surprise.

“Eh, no!? I’m not keeping my eyes closed, Eli, what the fuck? It’s dark and it’s Halloween, and hell fucking no.”

Eliott grabs him by neck and kisses him silent, before whispering against his lips “Just for a second.”

Then his touch is gone. Lucas’ heartbeat fucking skyrockets.

The sound of faint branches cracking makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand. He tells himself that it’s just his idiotic boyfriend doing fuck knows what, but when you can’t see it’s really hard to convince yourself of something you can’t check.

A particular loud squeak makes him jump, and he bites on his tongue to avoid yelling. He moves forward at the noise, in search of Eliott’s body. When he finds nothing but air he’s this close to saying fuck it all and open his eyes, to the cost of Eliott’s disappointment, because he’d rather live, thanks, and he’s sure Eliott would appreciate a boyfriend to be disappointed in than no boyfriend at all.

But then Eliott says “okay, you can open them now.”

And when Lucas does, Eliott’s face is looking at him upside down.

He’s-

Eliott is hanging from a thick tree branch with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Lucas’ mouth drops open.

“Oh my fucking god.” Lucas breathes. “Oh my god, you fucking idiot, get down here! You’re gonna break your fucking neck.” He says, waving his hands above Eliott’s body without touching, afraid the wrong touch will make him fall.

Eliott surges his hand forward to cup Lucas’ face, beaming. “It’s fine.” He pulls Lucas closer, palms fitting over Lucas’ cheeks and grey sparkly eyes staring into Lucas’, and Lucas breathes.

He breathes, wrapping his fingers around Eliott’s wrists, and smiles up at Eliott helplessly.

Eliott makes a sweet sound. “Trick or kiss?” he whispers.

“You’re an idiot.” He whispers back, but he moves his hands from Eliott’s wrists to his cheeks and brushes their lips together softly. Eliott sighs into the kiss, brushes his knuckles across Lucas’ cold cheeks, fits his thumb under Lucas’ chin.

He lets Eliott sneak in a couple more kisses - to the corner of his mouth, to his nose, then back to Lucas’ lips again – before taking a step away.

“Okay, get back down now.”

Eliott’s eyes flutter open at the sound of Lucas’ voice. He looks like he had forgotten where he was for a second, and it takes everything in Lucas to stop himself from walking over and kissing him again.

Smiling dopily, Eliott crunches up to hold the branch with his hands. He flips one leg over the branch, sitting on it for a second before moving down a branch, and then another one. His feet gets stuck in between two, and Lucas snorts.

“Some Spiderman you make…” Eliott shoots him a death glare, shaking his feet free before crunching down on the closest branch to the ground. “If you fall and die, I won’t cry at your funeral.”

Eliott hops down easily, moving to curl his arm around Lucas’ neck with a smirk. “Liar. You’d cry the most.”

“You dumb fuck,” he says, but he rubs his cold nose on Eliott’s neck before looking up at Eliott. “You cute, dumb fuck.”

Eliott kisses him soundly. “Merc with a mouth.”

They kiss again, Lucas tipping his body forward and curling himself closer under Eliott’s arm. He moves his hand to press against Eliott’s jaw as Eliott’s tongue slips between his lips, sliding it up and down the smooth material covering his chest. He sighs softly into the kiss when Eliott’s hand goes to the back of his head, scratching a little.

They pull back to catch their breathing. There’s red in Eliott’s cheeks, from the cold or the kissing, Lucas isn’t entirely sure, and he raises up on his tip toes to leave a kiss under his eye.

It’s then that a loud fucking metallic noise comes from inside the bridge.

Lucas looks up at Eliott with wide eyes. “Should I bring out the swords, or…?” He jokes weakly, but his knuckles turn white under the costume where he’s gripping Eliott’s arm.

Eliott frowns, looking behind him before looking back at Lucas. “Let’s just get out of here.”

And well, Lucas isn’t about to argue that.

Later, when they’re back outside and the lampposts light up the streets and Lucas has stopped clenching his jaw every time he hears a noise, Eliott says conversationally

“I’m gonna make a movie about you.”

Lucas grins up at Eliott. “Oh yeah?”

Eliott hums. “Yeah, wanna know how I’m gonna call it?” he asks, waiting for Lucas’ nods. “The hero who was scared of the dark.”

“I thought I was supposed to be an anti-hero?”

Eliott stops, and with him Lucas. He puts his hand in Lucas’ neck. Brushes Lucas’ cheekbone with his thumb, small smile like he knows something that Lucas doesn’t. “Nah. Not for me.”

Lucas kisses him. He keeps their hands intertwined all the way to Emma’s party.

End.

#:)#skam france #elu fic #elu

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hoe-doroki · 4 years ago

Text

hollow victory ch1

A part of the ‘A Spare Heart’ series. Read chapter 2 here.

pairing: none; eventual Shouto x Reader later in the series

wc: 5.7k

genre: gen, action

summary: You transferred to U.A. from America two weeks ago. You’ve trained, studied, and observed alongside your classmates, but no one has found out your quirk yet. Today, they're going be meeting it head on. You don’t have as much combat experience as any of them, but you have the advantage: surprise. Because none of them are prepared for what you have coming for them. American!fem!Reader.

a/n: This story exists mostly to establish the reader’s quirk and her initial relationships with some of the U.A. students. It can be read alone, but certainly reads better in conjunction with the series as a whole. That said, it is the first, chronologically, of the ones posted so far, so it’s a great starting place! But if you’re here just for the ship (fluff/angst/smut) that’s not what you’ll find here.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

“She still isn’t here?”

Todoroki eyed Iida as he jerked his head from side to side searching over Uraraka’s head for you as everyone piled out of the changing rooms, now in their gym uniforms. You’d been missing from homeroom along with Aizawa—All Might had subbed—and, apparently, you had yet to make an appearance.

“Maybe she had to meet with a teacher,” Midoriya offered as Iida searched in vain.

That was possible. You’d only just arrived at U.A. two weeks ago and there was any one of a number of things that you might have to sort out with the faculty—even though class time hardly seemed the time to do it. Then again, U.A. had, in Todoroki’s opinion, all but fallen to pieces since your arrival.

“Well, did she inform anyone?” Iida asked, incensed.

Uraraka shook her head. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t really talk much.”

“But we’re supposed to go to Gym Gamma as a group,” Iida said, cutting his arm sharply through the air. “We shouldn’t leave until we’re all accounted for.”

“Iida, you’re the one who decided we should all walk together,” Uraraka said. “All Might-sensei didn’t say that.”

“Well, it’s a good idea,” Iida defended. “Why wouldn’t we go as a group?”

“Glasses!” Bakugou suddenly shouted over everyone. Todoroki noticed Midoriya flinch, but the rest of the class, those who bothered to look at all, glanced disinterestedly at Bakugou. “The class is supposed to be twenty, there are twenty of us here. Let’s fucking go.”

Iida sighed, looking torn. But Bakugou wasn’t the only one getting impatient. Todoroki wasn’t in the mood to wait either. The prospect of going to Gym Gamma and possibly have a proper training session was something he was looking forward to, and he’d heard similar mumblings from his peers as soon as All Might had announced it.

Things had been…different at U.A. this year. It had started on the first day, when Principal Nezu had announced that the newly minted 2-A would be getting a new student. In a month and a half. And that, due to that change, they’d be shifting the planned curricula around from the standard year two hero syllabi—the lessons that 2-B was still going to enjoy. What Todoroki had noticed so far was that they’re lessons weren’t different, exactly, rather they were out of order. They weren’t as balanced between lectures, tests, and practical training as they had been the year before. No, the semester had been front-loaded with quirk training and then, ever since you had arrived, hero classes had shifted to mostly lectures. Midterms were in a few days, so it almost made sense, but not quite. Because 2-B was pulling ahead of 2-A in their hero training while 2-A struggled to balance out their workload, Todoroki had noticed something. Rather, everyone had noticed something.

No one knew what your quirk was.

The few bouts of physical training the class had endured for the past two weeks had largely been quirkless sparring, or else they’d been displays where everyone would sit and observe each other’s quirk work. But there had been nothing involving the whole class using their quirks in one session and Todoroki, among others, was getting sick of it.

He began walking past Iida, Midoriya, and Uraraka. Todoroki didn’t always find himself agreeing with Bakugou, but he couldn’t stand against him on this. If they were going to be able to get in some real training, for the first time in weeks, he didn’t want to waste a second. He heard much of the class falling into step behind him—and some spluttering from Iida—and led the way to the gym.

Frankly, U.A. was too good for the nonsense they were pulling. Todoroki didn’t know what it had to do with you, but he was sure the faculty could have not mismanaged two months of classes just for…whatever it was that they were trying to do. An experiment with an foreign exchange student. They’d probably changed things around to give you the best chance for academic success, but it didn’t make sense that that should be at the detriment of the other twenty students in the class. Maybe they’d done it to try and adjust for how the tightly-knit class dynamic would change, but Todoroki didn’t know how. You didn’t seem to have forged any particularly close bonds with any of the other students aside from eating lunch silently with Kouda and a little bit of overeager helpfulness from Iida and Yaoyorozu. Honestly, now that he thought about it the faculty probably should have done more to aid your transition. Although, he wasn’t sure what business you had at U.A. at all.

When they got to the gym, Iida—who had power-walked his way to the front—opened the doors and just inside were Aizawa, Cemetoss, and you. Iida couldn’t hide his displeasure.

“Y/N,” he rebuked. “We were wondering where you were and wanted everyone accounted for before we came to the facility.”

“That was my fault, Iida-san,” Aizawa said. “I was just showing Y/N around.”

Which was only necessary because 2-A hadn’t stepped foot in Gym Gamma as a whole in ages. Although, it did look different from the last time they’d been there. It was still all cement, which had been set up with a series of mountainous sections in between a few larger flat areas. All the risen land was pretty short relative to the high ceilings, landings that any fit, quirkless person could jump to and from without getting injured. Then, on either side, there were faux risers. Todoroki frowned. Another observational class.

“So, what are we doing today, sensei?” Ashido asked, raising her hand.

“We will be doing observed one on one quirk combat.”

Groans vibrated through the class. Why so much observed quirk combat? He didn’t want to watch another session of only a few pairs fighting while everyone else acted as unpaid commentators.

“Don’t worry, all of you will get to go today,” Aizawa reassured. “And all of you will be fighting Y/N.”

“Everyone?” Kaminari asked. “Like, all at once or one right after the other?”

“The latter,” Aizawa said. “Recovery Girl will be on standby and Cementoss is here in the event that the battlefield needs to be remade. The brief is that Y/N is a new villain and you don’t know what her quirk is. She, on the other hand, knows your quirks well. As you all understand by now, when you’re a professional hero your quirk and tactics might be well known by any villain you find yourself up against. That’s what this exercise is meant to emulate. Your first priority is to capture her,” you and Aizawa each held up a roll of capture tape, “while she is trying to capture you. Your second priority is to find out what her quirk is. You lose if she captures you first.”

It hardly made up for the past two months of incompetence, but Todoroki had to admit it was a good challenge, especially for someone like him. All students from U.A. were largely recognizable immediately graduation, and their class had already experienced particular notoriety. But Todoroki carried the added weight of being the son of the number one hero and very physically recognizable from his hair to his scar. He couldn’t imagine any truly dangerous villain that wouldn’t recognize him, even before he broke into the high hero rankings.

“Alright!” Bakugou shouted, interrupting Todoroki’s thoughts. “Lemme at her!”

“Y/N gets to choose the order of the battles,” Aizawa began, but you shook your head and took a step forward.

“That’s okay, sensei,” you said. “Bakugou can go first.”

Todoroki didn’t have to listen to the murmurs that rippled through the class to know what they were saying. Your decision to face Bakugou first would mean one of three things, as far as Todoroki could see. Either, one, you were overconfident or two, you had a quirk that would be good against Bakugou’s. Maybe water or something that weakened other people’s quirks. Or, three, you had one heck of a strategy up your blue gym uniform sleeve.

While you went out onto the field, Aizawa led all the other students to the risers where Cementoss was sitting. When Todoroki sat on the hard concrete between Midoriya and Iida, he watched as you chose a flat area right next to the risen section, probably in case you needed cover. Bakugou placed himself on the other side of the field from you, rubbing his palms together eagerly, getting them explosion-ready. He was grinning almost maniacally, spoiling for an all-out fight as much as anyone else in the class was. Yet, he wasn’t likely to underestimate your quirk. Bakugou was smart enough to know that the unknown in this scenario was dangerous. In the meantime, he’d be keeping an eye out for your quirk.

“Begin!” Aizawa called.

“Die!” Bakugou shouted as he sent with a big explosion in your direction. He was trying to force your hand, to get you to defend with your quirk if it was indeed something that could cancel out explosions. But through the onslaught, Todoroki couldn’t see anything of the sort. You ran and ducked behind one of the short walls of concrete, blocking your face from any shrapnel. Then there was too much dust to see.

“I don’t think she’s using a physical quirk,” Midoriya muttered as he leaned forward over the notebook in his lap to try to see something, anything.

“Not unless it’s subtle,” Todoroki agreed.

At least, it wasn’t something offensive or defensive against explosions. But that didn’t meant that there wasn’t something offensive happening under the cement dust. It would have to be delicate enough not to change the flow of the dust itself, though, which seemed undisturbed to Todoroki. But as it began to settle, Todoroki heard a gasp out of Midoriya, and then echoed at a few points in the stands. Todoroki squinted his eyes to try to see through the gauzy air, and when he did, he barely repressed a gasp as well.

There, less than a minute into a match, was Bakugou on his knees, with tape sticking his bulky arms to his torso. Todoroki stared at the sight, you looking to Aizawa before carefully taking the tape off of Bakugou, balling it up and jogging to toss it outside the arena, Bakugou still on his knees. Whatever your quirk was, it had to be good to accomplish all that.

Was it some kind of paralysis quirk like the hero killer had? But for it to be paralysis, Bakugou likely would have already had to be on his knees. Maybe it was a muscle weakening quirk that had been able to throw Bakugou off. And the option for something that affected opponent’s quirks was still in play, even if water no longer was.

While walked the field, Aizawa called for Bakugou to sit in the empty stands on the other side from everyone else. Apparently, there wouldn’t be any guessing what your quirk was. Then, it was up to you to choose your next victim.

You scanned through the crowd of classmates and Todoroki wondered if you had a planned order for this. It would be a difficult thing to plan to a T; there were too many variables to this little game for that. But your eyes landed on someone and your mouth quirked into the smallest smile. You curled a finger at them, and Iida stood up straight, marching his way to the battlefield. Instead of standing where you’d started the battle with Bakugou, you went for the more mountainous part. Clearly, you were hoping the uneven terrain might slow him down.

Aizawa called for the match to begin and Iida came straight for you. Todoroki could see he was being cautious after seeing Bakugou’s failure, not using any of his Recipro moves. When he was right in front of you, his right arm reared back, prepared to hit you with full strength. The year before, he might have made a different choice, perhaps trying to restrain you with only the capture tape over the idea of hitting a woman. But, in this scenario, you were a villain, and Iida was going for it.

Todoroki watched as, at the last second, you sprung up so that Iida got you on the hip instead of somewhere more damaging. Nevertheless, the move sent you sailing through the air with a cry. Iida followed after you as you landed and rolled onto your back—even though it looked like you’d managed to land low on your feet first. When Iida approached, you were pushing yourself up weakly, and his arms were lowered, not ready for attack.

Then you were moving quickly. You unfurled the tape, somehow catching Iida off-guard as you ducked to get the tape low on his legs, twice around before he could lunge for you. It wasn’t something that would incapacitate a hero in a real battle, but it met the brief of the challenge. Iida was out.

Iida’s eyes were wide with surprise. “You…I underestimated you,” he admitted.

You smiled. “I was counting on it.”

A fair strategy, and Iida had been a good person to use it against. It seemed Iida hadn’t quite been trained out of his chivalrous instincts, even when against a hypothetical villain. But now you wouldn’t be able to use that strategy again on any of the remaining eighteen students you had to get through. You’d just beaten two strong contestants from the class in record time; no one would be taking it easy on you now.

Iida retreated, head hanging low as he joined Bakugou on the far side of the gym. Bakugou looked irate, and Todoroki wondered if he’d managed to figure out what your quirk was. Was it something that was obvious once it had been used against you? Or did it retain the subtlety that it had to an observer? One thing was certain, though: you had used your quirk on both men. There was no way you could have taken them out so quickly otherwise. It wasn’t something physical. He’d known beforehand that it wasn’t a mutation quirk, from your normal appearance, but now he figured it wasn’t transformation either. It was an emitter, like his own quirk, but that didn’t exactly narrow things down.

You chose Jirou next, and Todoroki expected a new strategy. Neither you nor Jirou were exceptionally strong physically, but, judging by the quirkless sparring sessions you all had done the past couple weeks, Todoroki figured you could pull out a win in a simple match of strength. But that wasn’t what this was. Jirou’s quirk was weaker without her hero costume, her amplifying boots in particular, but that wouldn’t stop her. You would have to hope that you were better at strategy and prediction than she was.

Which was possible. Jirou went the same way that Bakugou had, starting off strong with her quirk. Sound waves rattled the dense atoms of the concrete you were surrounded by, and it was hard to withstand even on the risers. It was a perfect place to use her quirk even without direction or amplification—no sound dampening. It seemed to be taking you down as you plugged your ears and retreated into yourself. But Jirou was coming at you with a quick fist and you wouldn’t be able to take the hit and manifest crocodile tears like you’d done with Iida. So you parried, blocking her hand and making to get her in the stomach, but she twisted you out of the way. The two of you began to spar while Todoroki felt himself begin to go deaf.

Except…that wasn’t what was happening. No, the sound was receding, slowly but gradually. And as it did, Jirou’s moves got wilder and less studied. And with one good kick to the side, she was down just long enough for you to use the tape. Third one down.

Whatever you’d done hadn’t only weakened her quirk—it had weakened her battling ability too. That had appeared to be the case with Bakugou too—although now it was obvious that you hadn’t done anything to paralyze Jirou or Iida. But Todoroki still couldn’t place your quirk. Judging by Midoriya’s ongoing muttering, he hadn’t either. Todoroki threw a glance toward Yaoyorozu, the only other person who might figure it out first, but she was shaking her head, ponytail swinging behind her. No one seemed to have a clue.

Your next victims were Yaoyorozu, Kouda, Kirishima, and Hagakure, and you won each of them handily, not revealing anymore hints about your quirk in the process. Everyone just seemed to give up, in Todoroki’s opinion. They slowed down and left themselves open for you to use the tape just like had happened with Jirou. Everyone looked like beginners again, hesitating, making slow, questionable decisions-even Hagakure gave herself away, fighting you when she should have just stayed hidden until she could get the tape around you, even if she’d had the floating tape at her disadvantage.

Next was Ashido and, for the first time, you really looked like you were struggling. She had you running through the field as she twisted and flipped over the different stacks of cement. You were trying to match her style, showing off your own flexibility and sure-footedness. But while you were better than average, she was better than you. But that was par for the course when facing an opponent as adaptable as Ashido, who didn’t have an over-reliance on her quirk. What was strange was Ashido herself. She’d started the battle quiet, seeming more focused than usual. But now she was almost manic as she chased after you.

“Y/N!” Ashido shouted as she tossed some acid at you. You jumped high and spread your legs to avoid it, but Ashido was fast and knocked you out of the air with a cheerful, “Woohoo!”

You rolled and stared at Ashido with intense focus. But that slowed you down and then Ashido was on top of you with a frown on her face. “Sorry to do this to you, chickadee, but I gotta.”

Before you could fight back, Ashido had wrapped the tape around you, squeezing your arms to your sides. For the first time, you’d been bested. And as you dropped your head to the hard ground, you looked like you needed the rest.

“Good work, Ashido,” Aizawa said as he approached the two of you with some water. After Ashido removed the tape, you downed the bottle and began stretching out your limbs. “Any idea what her quirk is?”

“Not a clue!” Ashido chirped as she skipped on over to sit beside Hagakure and Yaoyorozu, who complimented her on her victory.

Bakugou shook his head and must have said something rude to Ashido, for she immediately turned around, punched him square in the thigh, and turned back to the girls. Todoroki looked from that scene back to you. You were stretching your arms and walking around the flat part of the battlefield while while Cementoss filled the holes that Ashido’s acid had dissolved. It was nothing untraversable, but someone could easily twist an ankle.

Kaminari was next, and Todoroki was beginning to wonder if he’d have any idea about her quirk by the time his turn rolled around. Ashido had managed the longest-drawn match against you thus far and she didn’t know what your quirk was, which meant that it wasn’t necessarily obvious to the person experiencing it, which didn’t help. So all he could do was watch as you took on Kaminari.

The match began with the two of you circling each other. Most of your opponents thus far had come at you with a quirk attack right out of the gate, so either he was being cautious or trying to size you up. He didn’t have much of a choice without his hero costume. With the discs in his sharpshooting gear, he could be a really successful distance attacker. Without them, all he had was close range. You’d have to get close to him to tape him up, but, until then, you had the advantage.

A few moments in, Kaminari froze up, face turning red as you slinked over to him, saying things that Todoroki couldn’t quite make out. “What’s she doing?” Midoriya asked.

Todoroki shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you played with the zipper on your jacket, pulling it down slowly.

“What the—” Mineta shouted irately, standing up suddenly and pointing at the field. But Aizawa wrapped his binding cloth around the boy’s mouth—not that it mattered. The match was over a moment later, you having wrapped your tape around a flushed Kaminari and then removing it almost immediately. Kaminari shouted at the sensation of the tape ripping across his arms and you apologized, looking firmly at the ground. You hid your face as you sped away from the boy and called for Tsu next.

“Some kind of seduction strategy,” Uraraka said.

“Mm-hmm,” Midoriya squeaked, nodding in agreement.

Shouto nodded. That’s what it must have been, though, with Kaminari it was hard to tell if your quirk had been involved or if he’d simply been that easy to manipulate. It was also possible that your quirk worked better on men than women, like Midnight’s did. Your match against Tsu could test that theory.

And it was looking like his theory could be right. Like, Ashido, Tsu was chasing you around the whole course, making use of her nimbleness across the flat section and the mountainous. You still managed to win, but the match was longer and it seemed like you’d gotten lucky when Tsu made a couple missteps that left her open for you to tape her up.

Although, it wouldn’t be smart to chalk anything up to luck when assessing strategy.

Tokoyami won against you, though, which mostly knocked down Todoroki’s theory. Not entirely, because Dark Shadow was an opponent who was strongly matched against almost anyone who didn’t have a quirk like his own or Bakugou’s. It was possible that Dark Shadow was immune to whatever you were doing, even if Tokoyami wasn’t. You didn’t look disappointed by the loss either. You nodded at him as Tokoyami went to take his seat on the other side of the gym, but mostly you were just starting to look exhausted, and rightly so. You were over halfway through the class now.

The next match went just as quickly as most others—but this time you lost. Sero had been able to tie you up with his own tape before using the capture tape on top of it, and you’d been totally immobilized.

“I can’t even tell if she got to use her quirk,” Midoriya muttered.

If you had it didn’t looked like it’d done anything. Which, if true, meant it was possible that your quirk wasn’t 100% effective. In fact, it was likely, looking at someone who’d reacted strongly, like Bakugou, versus someone like Ashido or Tsu, who hadn’t appeared to.

You chose Aoyama next, and that’s when Todoroki began to question your stamina. You dove away from Aoyama’s thick lasers, but the boy seemed completely unaffected by anything you might have done. You’d been going for a while now, and had likely used your quirk in every match except for maybe Sero’s. And you struggled when matches weren’t decided early.

As it was, you were bouncing around the field, constantly looking back at Aoyama as you went. Was it possible that you had to look at your opponent for your quirk to activate, like Aizawa did? Or were you just trying to keep an eye on your opponent? Fortunately for you, one person who did struggle with stamina was Aoyama, whose lasers became more irregular, more unsure. You had to spiral in towards him in order to get close, but he seemed frozen, unable to come up with a real strategy. Then all you had to do was get behind him and wrap him up with tape.

You watched him go, looking energized from a win after back to back losses. Aizawa offered you another bottle of water and you glugged half of it down.

“Y/N-san!” Midoriya suddenly shouted out, standing up. “I think I know what your quirk is.”

“Keep it to yourself,” Aizawa said calmly. “Y/N, do you want to battle Midoriya next?”

Todoroki looked at Midoriya in shock, as did the rest of the class—or at least the six who had yet to go. Todoroki shouldn’t have been surprised—this was Midoriya, after all—but he couldn’t help it, since he still had no idea himself. All the different pieces in his brain weren’t adding up to anything yet and it was starting to throw him off. Were you intentionally making choices to keep everyone from figuring it out or was your quirk naturally this mysterious?

“Sounds good. Come on down, Midoriya-san.”

He walked down the risers, staring at you as he made to take his spot across from you. Todoroki could recognize the focus Midoriya had on his face when he sized an opponent up—head bent, eyes up, slight frown. It was a face he was familiar with. However, you didn’t seem worried.

“I believe you do know my quirk,” you said when he got close. “I thought if anyone would guess it, it would be you, so I considered fighting you first, before you got the chance to make any guesses from other battles. But just because you know what my quirk is, doesn’t mean you’ll be able to fight it.”

Midoriya looked at you, lips pursed warily. Todoroki wondered if he’d formulated plan or if he was going to take his knowledge and using it on the fly, testing different strategies against you until one stuck. Midoriya was a rare physical fighter who had much more than just knowledge of his own body and quirk—he knew about most everything there was to know about quirks and strategy as well. And while he thrived with a plan, his mind was also quick enough to use his compiled knowledge to defeat new opponents, as Todoroki had seen many times. And, despite all the wins you had under your belt already today, he was fully expecting Midoriya to give you one of your rare losses.

“Begin!”

Midoriya took off like a shot, showing that he at least had half a strategy. He wouldn’t second-guess himself like Iida and Kaminari had and wait you out. You ducked immediately, but he must have predicted that, because he came in low and smashed you right into the cement, the best hit someone had gotten on you yet. The dust from the impact hid the both of you for a moment, and Todoroki was expecting the match to be over by the time it settled.

It wasn’t, though. You were battling his arms but he jabbed too fast to block effectively. However, he wasn’t getting the tape around you either. It stuck to your arms, chest, chin in his attempts, but nothing that met Aizawa’s brief. Then, before Todoroki’s eyes, the jabs slowed down, enough for you to block most of them and get a couple hits in of your own too to throw him off. Then, abruptly, his tape was dropped, his movements decelerating to almost nothing. You pulled a length of tape out from your roll, and you nearly had it on his chest when, suddenly, he punched through it, smacking you right back into your hole in the concrete.

He’d broken through your quirk, breathing heavily, green eyes intense and blinking rapidly as stared you down. But he seemed unable to do much of anything more than push you back to the ground every time you tried to get up. He was barely using any of his power, yet it kept you from getting your arms around him. And he was so close to you that there was no way to get around without having a quirk that could burst you through concrete.

You were getting frustrated, while Todoroki struggled to read Midoriya. This wasn’t a real strategy, and that wasn’t like him. It was going on too long for stalling and he wasn’t making a move to try anything else. Then, before he could make a move, you grabbed his arm and brought both your bodies to the ground, his covering yours completely. The shock compounded with whatever else it was you were doing to him bought you just enough time to tape him up.

Midoriya was still for a moment after the match was over, then his face opened up like he was being filled with new breath. He lifted himself off of you in a hurry. You made to get up after him, but he broke the tape off himself and helped you up, something uncharacteristically like a smirk on his face. “Not yet,” he said.

“What?” you asked, out of breath as you picked pieces of tape off of him.

“You said just because I knew what your quirk was doesn’t mean I would be able to fight it,” he clarified. “I say: not yet.”

You laughed. “Challenge accepted, Deku.”

Despite losing, his smile was wide until he started mumbling to himself about your match. Even then, his eyes were shining as he went to join the others.

Uraraka was next, leaving Todoroki alone on the risers as she met you on the field. You were stretching after your battle with Midoriya and looked worse for wear. You’d managed to avoid injury in most of your battles thus far, but now your back must have been littered with bruises and probably some scrapes too. Meanwhile, all your opponents would be fresh. And, Uraraka, Todoroki was sure, had superior physical training to you, even if her quirk wouldn’t be especially helpful on a field of flooded concrete. Still, Uraraka seemed to lose focus as the match went on, like so many before her, and you manged to pull off a win before she could use her fists against you. Then went Shouji, who, in turn, barely beat you. You beat Ojiro and Satou, although both of those were longer matches as well. Mineta’s was short and easy.

Before Todoroki knew it, he was the last one sitting with Aizawa and Cementoss, since Cementoss hadn’t needed to rebuild anything after Mineta. And he still didn’t know your quirk.

His best guess was that your quirk was able to inhibit the fighting ability of your opponents. Most of his peers had seemed to fumble or make mistakes, or else slow down or totally stop fighting. That was what he’d observed. In practice, it could mean a lot more things. Were you creating illusions that confused opponents? Were you able to affect their muscles in some way? Was your quirk multifaceted? He didn’t know yet—he’d have to be on high alert.

“Alright, last one,” Aizawa said, nodding to both of you. “Begin.”

Todoroki began with a wall of ice. Sero and Tokoyami’s victories had been predicated on immediate ranged attacks that incapacitated you before you could activate your quirk—or so it had seemed. You must have seen this one coming, though, because you dodged, jumping for the cement spires, not caring where you ended up so long as you weren’t trapped by ice. This was how he started most matches, since it had a good chance of caging his opponent immediately, and if it didn’t, he could move on effortlessly from there; there was no risk. It seemed you must have observed that.

Then, Todoroki’s mind froze. Whatever thoughts he’d had about strategy, about the battle vanished as he was hit with a feeling of a cold. For a second, he wondered if you’d made his quirk backfire, then he realized it wasn’t outside that felt cold—it was inside. He felt heavy, like he couldn’t take another step, like he couldn’t create another flame or single shard of ice. He could, he still felt his quirk humming under his skin, but he wouldn’t. He no longer felt like it. His mind was awash with something he hadn’t felt—had tried not to feel—for a long, long time.

He waited for you to come for him, run at him with the tape spread between your hands, ready to secure your last victory. He wasn’t watching for you, no, his eyes were totally unfocused, having fallen down to where his ice glittered under the bright arena lights in the gym. It was blinding, but he didn’t care. His eyes were barely open anyway.

Still, he felt when you were in front of him. Your shoes came into view first, walking on the concrete instead of risking your tennis shoes on the ice. You were totally unhurried until you were just in front of him, and then you tied him up quickly, thankfully ending the experience for the both of you. As soon as you did, you removed the influence of her quirk and Shouto began to feel himself warm up again. It wasn’t immediate, though. The weight lingered, and Shouto wasn’t sure if you’d missed removing all of your influence, or if this was a part of the aftermath of your quirk. If it left stains behind like a dirty hand print on his heart.

He was better, though. He could manage like this—had for years, after all. He met your eyes for a moment, and saw that you looked stricken, regretful. His brows furrowed for a second, then fell back to a heavy neutral, his lips and eyelids feeling just a bit more victims of gravity than usual. But he had the will to use his quirk again. A flash of fire lit on his left side and the tape burned away. Then he left you on the field, with nothing left but your four losses and sixteen victories.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

But that was ridiculous. There was nothing to be sorry for. You’d won fair and square, using your quirk flawlessly. And, in the end, Todoroki had succeeded somewhat, because though he had lost, now he was sure.

He knew what your quirk was.

#bnha fanfiction #a spare heart #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #class 1-a #bnha insert #mha insert

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, nephilimeq!

For @nephilimeq :)

When Stiles can’t decide what to get for Derek’s Secret Santa present, he decides to give Derek himself. It doesn’t go quite like he thought it would.

Or, the one where Stiles expected sex, but got to help Derek with his computer virus instead (but still somehow ended up with a boyfriend for Christmas).

*****

A Gift to Unwrap

“I’m so glad we’re doing Secret Santa this year, I can’t afford to buy you all shit again,” Stiles said, lounging on Derek’s couch with his head off the side and his feet in the hair.

Lydia smacked his ankle when it got too close to her. “It’s not like you gave us all great gifts last year. You gave me pens.”

“What was wrong with pens? You like pens.”

“They were from the dollar store, Stiles.”

“Whatever,” Stiles flipped over, sitting properly. “I hope I get Derek, he appreciates my gifts.”

“Derek?” Allison looked over at him from her armchair, “he’s the worst to buy for, he isn’t happy with anything.”

“Hey, Derek loved the birthday present I got him!”

Allison and Lydia shared a confused look. It was just the three of them here, planning out secret santa as everyone else on the pack went for midnight wolf patrol. Stiles didn’t mind, he liked when team humans got to hang.

“Derek doesn’t celebrate his birthday…” Lydia finally said, turning back to him.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles shrugged, “I just got him a photo album and filled it with all the family pictures of the Hales I could find. I dropped it off in the morning, we had some coffee, and I left. Derek didn’t have to celebrate, and I only had to spend like 5 bucks.”

They were both frowning now though. “How long did that take you?” Allison asked.

“Uh…” Stiles scratched his head, “a month or so?”

“A month or so?” Allison shook her head. “This year you gave me gum for my birthday!”

“Hey, you like gum!’

Lydia smirked, “don’t take it personally, Ally, Stiles only buys good presents for people he loves.”

“Woah- what? Who said - I don’t love anyone!”

Lydia laughed, “Stiles, you once bought me a TV! This year I got more dollar store pens. But Derek gets a whole photo album that you spent a month on? You’ve moved on from me and right on to him,” she grinned, “did you add little notes in it too?”

Stiles blushed, “no!… not that many! Shut up!”

“Relax, Derek likes you too,” she said. All nonchalant, like this wasn’t brand new information.

“What- what do you mean? Not that it - I don’t love him, or anything, but like what do you mean by that.”

“Okay,” Allison said, leaning back, “I can see it now.”

“Um, no? There’s nothing to see?”

“I guess we’ll find out next week,” Lydia said with a wink, “when you both get each other for Secret Santa.”

“You can’t just… cheat like that. Can you? Oh my God, what do you think he’ll get me?” They both laughed. Stiles was starting to see their point. “… not that it matters, what he gets me.”

“He’ll get you something sweet, I’m sure,” Lydia said. “You’ve kind of already outdone yourself with the photo album, but I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Aw, this is so sweet!” Allison said, smiling at Stiles blush. “Aw at New Years you two can kiss!”

Stiles didn’t even try to deny he liked that idea. And now that he was thinking about it, it was definitely not the first time he liked the idea of Derek kissing him.

Shit.

“Guys, I might like Derek…”

They looked at each other and laughed.

–

That weekend, when they pulled their Secret Santa names out of the hat, Stiles wasn’t surprised he pulled Derek’s name out. Lydia was a witch, she could do anything.

He watched carefully as Derek read his. He made no reaction, but Stiles noticed him glance towards him a minute later. Did you get Stiles’ name too? Was Lydia really doing this?

Was it normal to be this excited for Secret Santa?

Stiles wasn’t sure - but he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait for Christmas.

–

He realized as soon as he stepped into the mall, Lydia was right. He should have fucking waited to do the photo album for Christmas.

No one cared about their 26th birthday. It was a stupid age. Why did he go so big? Stiles had turned 22 this year, and Derek had just taken him out for dinner. He should have done that.

What the hell was he going to do now?

He had $20 he could spend and that was it. He walked past the dollar store but shook his head. Looked into H&M and scoffed. Derek would hate everything in this mall. Stiles wasn’t sure where he bought his ridiculously soft shirts, but it wasn’t here.

And they were probably more than $20s.

Cursing, Stiles back tracked. What could he do? He did the sentimental thing already, but maybe he could.. Add to that? Get… What, video recordings of his family?

No, that would just be creepy. He wasn’t fucking stalking the dead.

He could… draw him a picture? He was shit at art. He could… take him on a trip? At some point.. When neither of them were working.. And it was super cheap?

God he was doomed.

Stiles walked past La Senza and paused. The mannequin was dressed in a skimpy bra, but that wasn’t what he was looking at. It was also covered in bows, like the mannequin itself was the present.

Could… Stiles… be the present?

No, that was ridiculous.

Unless…?

No. Derek deserved a real present.

But maybe..?

Stiles bit his lip in thought. It would be better than dollar store pens at least.

He turned and made his way to the craft store. Time to spend his $20 on high end ribbon.

–

Stiles had on his tightest skinny jeans, the ones that Jackson said made his ass pop. He wore the shirt Lydia had given him, the one he thought had been a size too small but she insisted fit him better than anything else he owned.

Now, for the important layer. He pulled out the red ribbon.

He tied a loop around his chest, making a bow on his front. He tied another around his leg and made a bow on his thigh. He looped a ribbon down his left arm, starting from his shoulder and ending with a bow on his wrist.

He looked at himself in the mirror, a bit worried he had over done it.

“Well, my dad didn’t believe I was gay before, he should see me now.”

Although he and his dad had already had that talk. More than once, actually, after he caught Danny in his room in senior year. That had been awkward.

But they were good now. And Derek wouldn’t be such a surprise to him, he didn’t think…

You know, if Derek… actually liked him back. And wanted to date him. And be introduced to Stiles father as his boyfriend-

He was getting ahead of himself.

He took a deep breath. “Even if he doesn’t like me, the present is he has me for a full day. He can make me clean his windows if he wants.”

WIth that, Stiles pulled on his dad’s trench coat.

It was show time.

–

Stiles usually barged into Derek’s loft like he owned the place, but it felt weird to do that now, so he knocked.

It took a minute before Derek opened the door. He already looked confused, and his eyebrow rose up at the sight of him.

“Stiles.”

“Evening, Derek.”

“Why did you knock…. Why are you dressed like you’re going to flash me?”

Stiles felt his cheeks warm, “it’s, uh, for Secret Santa!”

“You’re going to flash me for Secret Santa?”

“No! I am,” he gestured at himself, “fully clothed underhere, I will have you know. But it is part of the present.”

Derek raised a brow, “the gift exchange is tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but… mine starts today.”

Derek shrugged, then stepped back to wave Stiles inside.

Palms sweating, Stiles stepped in and only hesitated a moment before he opened his coat. “Ta da!” He said, dropping the coat dramatically to the floor, “I am your present!”

Derek looked him up and down, eyes lingering on the bows, “okay.”

Stiles swallowed. He shouldn’t have worn his tightest clothes, could Derek see his sweat through his shirt already?

Fuck, could he smell it?

“And, uh, you can do whatever you want with me. For the next 24 hours.” Derek nodded, his eyes still on the bow on Stiles chest. Shit, maybe this was stupid. “Sorry, I thought… I’m kind of broke, and I - this was dumb-”

“No, it’s good,” Derek stepped toward him. Stiles’ heart started to race, he clenched his fists so they wouldn’t shake. This was the plan, right? This was the fucking point of the gift - make a big decleration and give himself to Derek, for a whole day, to do whatever.

But fuck, what if Derek was into weird shit? Stiles wasn’t a virgin, but he’d only been with two people before, and did that guy from college really count if all they did was handjobs? Stiles didn’t even remember his name. And fuck, what if this made Derek think all he wanted was sex? What if he was ruining a potentially amazing relationship because of one stupid -

All Derek did was reach behind him and close the door.

Of course.

Stiles cleared his throat.

“So, uh…”

“Come with me.”

Stiles obeyed, following Derek to the couch. Was Derek going to throw him on it? Ravish him?

He passed Stiles a laptop.

“You’re good at this stuff, right? I think I have a virus or something.”

“… what?”

“I have you for 24 hours, tonight you can help me with my laptop.”

“Oh, oh, okay, sure.” Stiles sat down, glancing down at the screen. He felt stupid for being relieved.

“After you figure out the virus thing, you can also help me get a netflix. And figure out how to get it on the TV? Lydia is refusing to set up pack movie nights anymore if we’re all going to complain about watching The Notebook everytime.”

“Alright,” Stiles leaned back on the couch, diving right in. By the state of Derek’s desktop, he had a feeling this might actually take him 24 hours.

–

Stiles slept over at Derek’s house that night, though it went very differently than he had imagined. He borrowed Derek’s sweats and a baggy T. He slept on the couch. He worked on his laptop until 2 am, and woke up to Derek making breakfast. Stiles joined him in the kitchen, making coffee beside him as he cracked eggs into a pan.

It was nice. Domestic.

Derek smiled at him as he passed over a mug of coffee, and Stiles smiled back.

This was way better than his original plan.

“So, your computer’s up and running, and can connect to the TV. What else do you need help with?”

“Cleaning.”

“… cleaning what?”

“The loft. The pack is coming over tonight for the Secret Santa exchange. Clean up, and when you’re done, help me make the Christmas cookies.”

Stiles shrugged, “okay.”

–

Cleaning wasn’t hard. Derek kept his place pretty impeccable anyway, so all Stiles had to do was some dusting and sweeping. Then he joined Derek in the kitchen, where he had already started baking.

The rest of the day went by so fast, Stiles ran out of time to go home. He changed back into the clothes he was wearing last night, minus the bows, and came back to find the pack already arriving.

He smiled at Derek as they passed out the food together. He imagined what it would be like if he really did live here, really did help Derek with every pack night. He thought they would make a good pair.

And when their shoulders brushed when they sat down together, Stiles didn’t feel nervous. In fact, he leaned into the touch a bit. And he didn’t miss the soft smile Derek sent his way when he did.

Yeah… he thought they would be great together.

The night went by in a blur, Stiles too focused on Derek’s warmth beside him to really pay attention to any of the presents everyone was opening.

He didn’t even notice people had started leaving until it was only him, Lydia and Allison left.

And Lydia and Allison were getting ready to go.

“Oh. I guess I should get ready to go too.”

“Aw, but you two look so cozy,” Allison said with a smirk.

Stiles flushed. Derek, thankfully, either didn’t notice her comment or ignored it. “I haven’t given you your gift yet,” he said. “You can’t leave.”

“Have fun getting your gift, Stiles,” Lydia said, winking, before she shut the door.

Stiles felt his face grow even hotter, but Derek still didn’t comment on it as he got up to get his present. Bless this man. Bless him and his new social tact.

Derek came back out with a present so big, Stiles felt a pang of regret for going with his stupid idea. He could have at least given him… socks, or something.

“Derek, you didn’t have to-”

“I did. After the photo album, I did.” He cleared his throat, “it’s not that big of a deal, I just didn’t know how to wrap it.”

Stiles didn’t believe him. The way Derek was carefully holding it, he didn’t think Derek fully believed it either.

When he ripped open the wrapping paper, he gasped, “Derek…”

It was a painting. A painting of him in his grad cap and gown, from his university graduation last summer. Beside him was his dad, in his suit, just like in their pictures, and on the other side…

“I tried to make her look a bit older, without changing her too much… your dad gave me a picture.”

“She’s beautiful,” Stiles whispered. His mother looked just like he remembered, he even knew the dress, but… there were wrinkles that he never got to see her have. A few gray hairs she never got to grow. His eyes started to burn, so he put the picture down on the table, taking a deep breath. “Derek, you really didn’t have to…”

“You didn’t have to give me the photo album.”

Stiles licked his lips. Derek leaned forward.

“I knew what you were doing. With your gift, I mean, I knew what you were trying to do.”

“You don’t - I shouldn’t have, I don’t want to force anything. It was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, it was cute. I was just surprised. And you smelled really nervous, sweaty,” Stiles cursed himself, he knew Derek had smelled the sweat. “I didn’t want our first anything together to be with you under pressure. I want us to both want it.”

Stiles looked at Derek, how beautiful and sincere he was. He thought maybe he was already in love with this man.

“Do I smell nervous now?”

“No.”

They leaned forward at the same time, the kiss was soft. Perfect. Derek’s beard was smooth under his fingers.

When they pulled back, Derek grinned. “Can I unwrap my present now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The End <3

#nephilimeq #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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kintatsujo · 4 years ago

Note

any advise for someone putting together a webcomic?

Oh boy oh boy anon I don’t happy flap often but you better believe I have advice XD

For people new here: I’ve been doing my main webcomic, The Law of Purple, since 2004, also was doing a different webcomic, Alien Revenant, for several years before having to hiatus indefinitely, have done a number of fancomics, including one that ran weekly for a number of years, and I’m in the midst of rebooting another original called Eclipse Knight. That’s why I’m someone you might consider asking about doing webcomics. That and I take an actual philosophy to this stuff.

Onward to my Advice, born of blood and toil!!

Make a palette and stick to it

This does keep the art of your comic looking consistent but the REAL reason is because you’re not going to be spending a bunch of time deciding on colors because bam, I have ten specific colors for different shades of wood and I’m gonna pick from those. Note how I phrased that! I’m not telling you to make a 500 page comic using Gameboy Classic colors or something-- I’m telling you to make a palette based on the colors you’re going to want for your project. I personally tend to prefer to work from “master” palettes where ALL the colors are coming from but you can also make pools of palettes so that, for example, individual characters have their own personal colors.

Also: Don’t bother with too many different shades of red. A lot of people can’t see the difference between more than a handful, so why make more work for yourself?

The more backups the better

I know that probably sounds obvious but you’d be surprised how many webcomics go on hiatus because of things like “I lost half my files.” Alien Revenant’s rocky years started because it uses conlang heavily and my glossaries weren’t as up to date on all my backups when a certain pen drive got borked. Even after that you’d think I’d have learned my lesson and I STILL ended up having to recover some colors from LOP’s master palette that I’d added between computers when our one desktop crashed.

Don’t feel guilty for using shortcuts that work for you, and use whatever kind of references you need

I’ve made perspective references by setting up toys and a bunch of rulers and furniture and taking pictures with my phone. I’ve made perspective references using computer programs. I own a model Harley motorcycle because it’s the one I wanted Blue to ride. Use free floorplan programs. Use the Sims. I have straight up traced pictures of buildings I’d drawn in the past and in the LOP page I’m working on there’s about fourteen characters that are just the same guy copy pasted over and over. (They’re going to be obscured by effects so why kill myself over it?) I’ve also copy-pasted the lineart for backgrounds from one panel to the next when I wanted the same angle, and sometimes I just copy paste the sketch layer when a character’s going to be mostly in the same pose and adjust from there.

(Copy-paste isn’t a sin and if you’re clever it’s barely even noticeable.)

Also a full-turnaround sheet for every character is HELPFUL but like, don’t actually feel like you HAVE to do it, either, especially if you realize it’s actually stalling you out. Reference sheets are usually most important for things like somebody having complicated tattoos, or the furniture and architecture of the main character’s house, or uniforms, things like that.

Set aside Specific Comic Work Time if possible

I’m currently doing better at keeping up with my own schedule entirely because there’s time each week that I have nothing to do but work on my comic, which is Sunday mornings while I’m sitting in my office waiting for people to go away so I can wipe down the light switches and lock the doors. When I was at my most productive as a webcomicker, I had a full set of college courses crammed into two or three days and nothing else to do once my homework was done but sit around the school lounge areas and draw.

Time yourself doing pages and try to base your schedule on that

Even if you start off with a decent buffer, no schedule buffer lasts forever.

Don’t pick a coloring style that takes you more than four hours per page

oh my god, no amount of painterly coolness or smooth airbrushing is worth that. I should know because I did an airbrushing style for a chapter of LOP when I first started coloring on the computer and chapters of LOP are generally between 100 and 200 pages long, and I wanted to fuck off and live in the woods or something by the time I was done.

Not even because of how much time it took-- Once I was good at it, it looked beautiful, but airbrushing the same two dudes having a Serious Conversation for fifteen pages makes you contemplate killing them both off randomly by the end and one of them was the main character. On that note--

Style testing will save you a lot of time and tears

There’s a number of ways to style test; do a bunch of memes with your characters, do a short five page thing, just do a series of standalone pieces. It’ll give you a much better idea of what will work for you and what won’t.

That said if you wanted to do a different art style for every page of your comic because that’s what scratches your id, go right ahead and do it because doing webcomics should be fun if you ask me.

Pick a legible font

I had a rant about this not too very long ago. Go to Blambot and get yourself some legible fonts. I’m dyslexic.

Try out batching your pages

When I talk about “batching” LoP pages, I mean that I sketched four or five of them, then I went through and inked all of those, then I went through and colored all of them. This isn’t necessarily something that works for everyone but when I have consistent Work On Comics time and a buffer it’s something that usually works pretty well for me.

Don’t pick a website for hosting that you think is ugly

Because the website your comic is on will inform a lot of your experience. I’m currently on ComicFury and I’m very happy there, and he’s got a set of templates you can choose from and modify the colors of. Also personally I don’t actually trust Tapastic as a hosting site, not to go into detail but someone I read had some very bad experiences with them basically trying to legalese the rights to her webcomic out from under her. I can direct to a post of the Twitter thread if anyone wants it but you can also find it by searching “Tapastic” on my blog.

And finally, if you stop having fun it’s time for a break.

One of the things about doing consistent webcomic schedules is they don’t always allow for that “breathing in” part of the creative cycle. It’s okay to do things like taking a break for a month to just... binge watch three different anime or something. I thoroughly encourage a schedule that lets you enjoy other media while you’re actively working (sometimes literally; I sometimes listen to podcasts when I color) but sometimes you just straight up need a Real Vacation from your webcomic. Definitely consider taking at least two weeks off between discrete chapters if that’s something your comic has. Some artists do filler, some invite in guest artists, but it’s fine to just say “see you in October.”

Good luck, Anon, and let me know when I can read it!

#anonymous #webcomics #comics #artists on tumblr #art advice #art reference #Anonymous

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paranetics · 4 years ago

Note

hiya could you do a kiadam for 17. and 22.? if your not too busy. thanks !!

17. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” 22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

He’s completely minding his own business, being friendly with his physics textbook, all pressed up against the end of the bookshelf in the library, successfully having a love affair with headache-inducing math equations, when Mira ambushes him.

“Hiya,” she says, suddenly right in his face.

“Aisghls!” he gurgles, in a completely manly way, thank you. She sits back on her heels and laughs at him, loud and mocking. He scowls at her.

Her braces are blue now, matching the streaks in her hair. She looks nice, he decides, all neon green and blue. The loudness of her wardrobe suits her -- she’d be strange to him if she ever tried to tone it down.

“Oh, man, you should’ve seen your face.”

“Fuck you,” Kai snaps, smoothing out the pages of his book. “I am busy learning how to destroy the AP Phys exam. Stop being a distraction.”

She pouts at him. “Come on, you're seriously not still mad at me about the ceramic pig.”

“I’m always going to be mad at you about the ceramic pig,” he says primly. Then he sighs, unable to resist. “What’s up?”

Her smile turns bright, and his heart does that familiar little stutter. Kai has always, always loved her. Sure, she’s Adam’s best friend and has inclinations more Reeve-based, but there’s always going to be something about her that just catches him in the right spot. He’s over it now, and he has erm, other areas of interest, but she’ll always be special.

“Nessa’s having a party--”

“Ugh,” Kai interrupts.

“--with alcohol--”

“Double ugh.”

“And cute boys will be there,” Mira wheedles, whipping out her best puppy-eyes.

“I don’t care,” Kai says, shuffling away from her and looking back at his textbook. The particles will... he reads.

“Adam will be there,” she tries. Obvious trump card. Goddammit.

He cuts his eyes toward her, calculating. She’s grinning, triumphant, confident that she’s got him. He groans internally, because it’s either that he goes to this party and enjoys at least twelve percent of it, or Mira and Adam will wake him up from a dead sleep sometime in the AM, drunk and needy.

Part of his resistance is a lie, he always likes parties. He doesn’t like Vanessa, but she’s Reeve’s friend, and by proxy, Mira’s friend. He can pretend to like her for one night, especially if he gets to hang out with people. What can he say, extroversion. It’s a disease.

It’s just, recently, there’s been this trend. It’s like he’s been cursed.

Kai pretends to think about it.

“Fine,” he grits out.

“Yay!” Mira says, standing up and doing a little celebratory wiggle. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and unlocks it. “I’ll add you to the group text. Also, I want Reeve to drive me so you’re taking Adam alone okay bye.”

“Huh,” Kai says as she speed-walks away from him. “What? Hey!”

But she’s gone, vaguely eucalyptus-scented-shampoo left in her wake. Alone? With Adam? Fuck.

His phone buzzes.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

mirakat added humantorchkai to the group

abeaverdam: Oh he’s coming?

lochnessa: Damn I didn’t know he left his house anymore

mirakat: ya i cornered his ass in th library

mirakat: hes a total slut 4 skool

mirakat: kais my bitch tho lol so ya hes comin

mirakat: dam hes drivin u

abeaverdam: Is that ok kai?

humantorchkai: yeah

humantorchkai: when?

lochnessa: Friday.

Kai’s late to first period on Wednesday, which Reeve notices, and bugs him about for ten minutes straight. He rolls in twenty minutes after the bell, wearing the clothes he left on his bedroom floor, all rumpled up and disorganized, and without a note. He drops into his seat and makes it approximately two minutes before Reeve leans over, into his space, and starts the interrogation.

“Oh my God,” Kai says to the ceiling. “For the last time, my alarm didn’t go off.”

“My Spidey-senses tell me you’re a liar,” Reeve says, and seriously, what does Mira see in this complete dork? He’s so nosy.

Kai drags his gaze from the ceiling to stare at him. “I think your janky-ass ‘spider-sense’ needs a psych eval.”

Reeve crosses his arms and sniffs at him. “Rude. I thought we were friends.”

“We are--” Kai scrubs his hands through his hair violently, frustrated. He catches the smirk on Reeve’s face. “Hey! That doesn’t work on me anymore. I’ve evolved.”

The smirk doesn’t leave Reeve’s face.

The truth is, Kai’s late because he had a nightmare. Or a wet dream. Depends on your definition of either thing. It’s been reoccurring pretty consistently, and Kai always wakes up from it breathing hard, adrenaline in his veins, and a hard-on. Today just happened to be shittier, and he couldn’t get back to sleep right away, so he overslept when his alarm went off.

It’s pretty much the worst, been happening for almost a month, and Kai is slowly losing his mind. But. whatever, the important part is this: he’s with Adam, and Adam kisses him. They could be in space, or in a submarine, or whatever Kai’s subconscious feels like cooking up. They could be anything, pirates, elven rebel warriors, it doesn't matter. In every dream, Kai’s with Adam, and at some point Adam leans over, the smell of Hennessy whiskey on his breath, and kisses Kai.

It’s why Kai’s been so rigid lately, avoiding his friends and refusing to go to parties, because of what happened Last Time he’d gone.

Mad Libs! Fill in the blanks, Sherlock.

He’s so totally, totally, totally screwed. And no one is allowed to know, not even Reeve, who knows Adam’s a flirty drunk and that Kai’s pathetic, and hasn’t even told anyone any of Kai’s other secrets, because this? This is world-ending levels of FUCK.

So, when the bell rings, Kai basically sprints out the door to avoid Reeve.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

speedyskeet: should i bring da weed

reever: ohhh shiiiit hell yeah

lochnessa: No LSD though

speedyskeet: :O

speedyskeet: um ok MOM

reever: wtf ness

reever: psychedelic rights!!!

speedyskeet: let me get us fkd up!!

mirakat: wait didnt we hav 2 call an ambulance 4 coop last time u brought more than weed to a party

mirakat: or was tht a different school

speedyskeet: .........

speedyskeet: ok so im assuming edibles and my bong right

Kai takes his lunch to Mr Tucker’s room.

Mr Tucker is the APUS history teacher for the senior class, and he is the only non-STEM teacher that Kai likes. Mira is also his favorite student, so he lets them eat lunch in his room. It’s better than fighting for a spot in the crowded cafeteria, and Kai likes hiding from the rest of the student body.

Adam, Reeve, and Mira are sitting at one of the table groups when Kai walks in with his plate of chicken nuggets, Vanessa and Skeet nowhere to be seen. They’re probably getting high in the parking lot.

Mr Tucker is scrolling through youtube, his computer desktop displayed on the projector screen.

“Why’d you look up Nyan cat?” Kai asks, tilting his head as he watches Mr Tucker scroll.

“It’s stuck in his head,” Mira pipes up, helpfully.

Mr Tucker grunts confirmation and apparently selects the version he likes. Reeve groans when it starts playing, slumping forward over his tuna salad. Mr Tucker picks up his normal vegetable-based salad, his bushy mustache wiggling in that way that means he’s smiling.

Kai sits next to Reeve, across from Adam. Mistake, Kai realizes too late. Big mistake. Because now they have to make eye contact, and Kai’s belly catches fire at the memory of drunkAdamhe’sKISSINGMESOMEONEHELP when he looks down at his plate of chicken nuggets. It’ll be obvious on his face in a few moments, he’s never been able to fight off a blush well, and then there’s going to be Questions. Capital-Q Questions.

But Reeve’s talking about, like, whatever drama majors talk about, and when Kai chances a peek up, Adam’s not looking at him. So.

Kai can’t help it, okay? He’s creepy. Sue him. No wait, that’s not-- ugh.

Kai studies the contours of Adam’s face while he’s not looking. His high cheekbones and his sharp chin. His heavy eyebrows that are shaped perfectly (”Ugh, you’re so fucking gross,” Reeve had said when Kai had voiced this thought aloud. “His eyebrows? I think you need to ask him out. Get it out of your system.”) and his eyes are that warm shade of brown, almost gold, soft and kind.

His hair is longer now, and errant curls flop over his forehead and around his ears. Kai watches the long line of Adam’s throat when he tilts his head back from the force of laughing at something Reeve said. Kai’s transfixed by the inviting stretch of dark skin, entertaining a thought of leaning over and just biting down so it’s not his fault he doesn’t see it coming when Reeve violently jabs him in the rib.

Kai jumps. “Ah! What the fuck?”

“Language,” Mr Tucker says in the toneless inflection of someone who doesn’t really care but responds on reflex. He’s now scrolling through Seasame Street videos.

Reeve shrugs, unrepentant. “You were gone there, dude.”

“Yeah,” Adam agrees, eyebrows raised in polite curiosity. “Planet Zenon gone.”

Kai ducks his head. “I’m, uh, stressed about AP physics?” he tries.

“Uh-huh,” Reeve says, “and are you asking us to confirm that for you?”

“Leave him alone,” Mira interrupts mildly. “Only, like, a hundred people a year get above a three on that exam.”

“Wow, how is that class still funded?” Adam asks.

“Elitism?” Mira guesses. “Maybe it’s like, a torture thing. Like, a test within a test.”

“What,” Reeve says, “like, if you pass you can become a super-secret spy?”

“Or I can, like, do another Chernobyl. Or I’m allowed secret access to government secrets. Ooh, maybe they’ll tell me the moon is a projection into the sky.” Kai says, warming to this idea.

“Then how would they explain waves?” Reeve asks.

“Uh, giant wave pool,” Kai answers.

“Hot take: the world is in a giant wave pool,” Mira grins at him.

Adam blinks almost in slow-motion, the sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks, a smile growing on his face, and Kai is once again caught like a fly in honey. Just like that, all the saliva is gone from Kai’s mouth, and he’s completely lost the thread of whatever’s happening around him.

Okay, so, recap: totally, totally, totally screwed.

adam: U sure you’re ok driving me?

kai: dam i swear its fine

kai: i’d say something if it was a problem

kai: my parents have been trying to kick me out basically every weekend, this’ll make them so fucking happy

adam: Lol

adam: [A stock photo of two white parents sitting on a beach towel in a tropical location, smiling adoringly at each other. In the blurry background, a toddler with similar skin color and hair is being attacked by a seagull.]

“There is a PROBLEM!” Kai announces, flopping heavily onto his bed, tossing an arm dramatically over his forehead. Mira doesn’t even look up at him.

“Hm?” she says from the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. She’s looking more at her iPad than at him.

“Oh my God,” Kai groans. “You don’t even care. I’m nothing to you. You enjoy my suffering.”

“Die white man,” Mira says tonelessly. “I’m trying to beat my old high score in Tetris. What’s your damage.”

“I have nothing to wear on Friday,” Kai moans, pained.

“What? Why do you even care? Your regular clothes are fine.”

“Oh my God, Mira! It’s a party,” Kai breathes the word like its holy, a precious thing nestled in the crook of his tongue, not to be defiled by people who wear school clothes to special events. “And I want to get hit on.”

“I’ll hit on you,” Mira promises. The iPad makes a wah-wah-wah sound. She sighs, setting it aside and looking up at him, expression thoroughly unamused, clearly blaming him for her high-score loss.

“I did not do that,” Kai says. The blood’s started rushing to his head, so he sits up and blinks away the black spots as they dance in front of his vision. “I just wanna be hot,” he whines.

“Okay, so, wear that stupid blue button-up with the tigers on it, and the black skinny jeans. It brings out your eyes,” she elaborates. “And tucked-in button-ups are hot on dudes. Oh, and--”

“If you’re gonna Queer Eye me, I swear to God,” Kai complains.

“Will you just... I was gonna say you should wear a tiny bit of eyeliner. It’s like, accentuating your features or some shit.”

“Why should I trust you?” Kai asks playfully. “I’ve never seen you go anywhere near a make-up in my life.”

Mira shrugs. “I saw it on Instagram. Anyways, Reeve said I have ‘good bone structure’, what does that even mean?”

“That he’s an idiot and I can’t believe you’re into him?” Kai ventures. Mira glares at him, so Kai leans back on the bed, rolling his eyes up to the bedroom ceiling at the glow-in-the-dark stick-on stars that have been there since he was seven. “Okay, okay. He was probably trying to compliment you, but since he’s a robot sent by aliens to infiltrate the earth he did it in a really bizarre way.”

Mira perks up. “You think?”

“He said ‘good’.”

“What should I say back?”

“Erm, that you’ll have his babies?”

Mira throws one of her glittery highlighter pens at him. It bounces off the center of his forehead and onto his lap. He laughs, picking it up and tossing it back.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe say that you like his bones, too.”

Mira takes out her phone.

adam: [A picture of a pina colada sitting on a kitchen counter in a pool of sunlight.]

adam: Winky face

kai: you could just like, use the emoji keyboard instead of typing it out

adam: Don’t make me frowny face

Kai spends fifteen minutes messing with his hair in the mirror. He gels it sticking up, twists his mouth critically at his reflection, and wets his hands to wipe it out. Nothing’s working for him today. It’s just one of those things, his clothes seem to hang off him awkwardly, and nothing looks right.

He makes a sound of frustration, and his mom pokes her head into the bathroom.

“Oh,” she says. “I thought you were going to a party?”

“Mom,” he growls. “I’m getting ready!”

“Hm.”

She pushes the door all the way open, surveys him from head to toe, and reaches over to run a hand through his hair, leaving parts sticking up in her wake. Kai looks in the mirror. Now, instead of awkward ‘trying-too-hard’, he looks artfully tousled. He unbuttons two top buttons of his tiger shirt, and messes with the collar to make it look like someone had grabbed it and reeled him in for a kiss. He grins at himself.

“That’s better, I think,” she says.

“Thanks Mom,” he says, shuffling past her and out to the hallway.

“Limit yourself to three drinks!” she calls as he stuffs his feet into old converse. “If you get too intoxicated to drive, spend the night! Just text! Don’t forget to wear condoms and--”

Kai shuts the door in her face.

His car is a silver Prius, owned five times prior to him. The interior always smells a little bit like shamrock shake and in the winter requires a prayer and three engine turnovers to start. Kai loves it.

He pulls up to Adam’s street and texts without looking that he’s close. He parks in the street, and jogs up to Adam’s front door. He raps his knuckles on Adam’s door, the red one with caterpillar decals, and a blue handprint on the doorknob.

Adam throws open the door. “Gimme a sec, gotta grab my jacket.”

He’s wearing a white shirt and Kai’s favorite jeans of his (do Not judge him, okay, liking your crush’s ass is basically a given and is no longer considered a sin under the New Testament, so really Kai’s not weird for liking this pair of Adam’s jeans because it accentuates his butt.), the ones with rips in the thigh and at both knees, because Adam lives reckless and dies reckless.

He jams his feet into vans and grabs the heavy olive jacket off the coatrack and follows Kai out to the Prius.

“You look nice,” Adam says, offhand. Kai feels how hot his face immediately gets and hopes it isn’t ugly, sometimes his blushes look like a rash.

“Thanks,” he says, rubbing his neck, right hand fumbling for his keys.

They slide into their seats, and Kai is hit with the violent-sense memory of Hennesy whiskey, and dark streetlamps, and Adam’s soft voice and brown puppy-dog eyes imploring Kai, look at me. Look at me, please. And. And.

His phone buzzes.

“Oh, Vanessa wants us to pick up some soda,” Kai says through the rock in his throat.

“Ooh, ooh. Cherry 7-Up, Jarritos Lime, uh like, a ton of Mountain Dew... and Coke! We’ll need Coke,” Adam rambles as Kai pulls away from the street and heads toward the local general store.

mira: WHERE

mira: R

mira: U

mira: 2

mira: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kai frowns at his phone. They’re in the check-out line, waiting for their turn with about three tons of soda on the conveyer. Kai’s got a fifty dollar bill from his parents, because they’re stupidly open-minded, but he’s still gonna make Vanessa pay him back. Adam’s inspecting the tabloids, making comments about all of the covers and whatever he thinks about them.

kai: WE’RE

kai: FUCKING

(Not sent !) kai: GETTING

(Not sent !) kai: DRINKS

mira: FUHDUK WHATTTT!!!?????????

Kai groans.

The party’s already alive by the time Adam and Kai get there, music thrumming against the walls of the house, the glass panes of the windows shaking with the vibrations. Weighed down by plastic bags full of drinks, and a little bit anxious, Kai fumbles with the door handle three times until Adam reaches over him and opens it.

The crowd is huge. He didn’t even know that Vanessa and Skeet knew this many people. There’s a wall of heat that hits them when they step inside, the difference between the inside and outside must be a solid ten degrees. Most people are crammed in the living room, near the speakers, where a sort of impromptu dancefloor has evolved. There are plenty of people lining the hallways, sitting on the stairs, and spilling over into the other places of the house.

Vanessa has changed the lightbulbs to fuschia, cobalt, and teal colors, so the house looks almost like a club from a TV show. There’s this haze over everything - and, yep, definitely Skeet’s weed - that makes it seem smoky and mysterious. Adam kicks the door shut behind them as they begin to navigate the crowd.

Skeet’s leaning against one of the walls, talking to a tiny girl with piercings and too much eyeliner. She tosses her head, her hair flying up like a halo for a moment, luminescent in the multicolored lights of the house, and leans closer to Skeet. She’s holding a red solo cup, Skeet’s holding weed, and Kai’s arms are starting to hurt from all the soda.

“So, your, like, real name is Skeet? What kind of name is that? I mean, like, who does that to their kid?” she’s asking, valley girl accent and everything, even twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Skeet shrugs, unbothered. “My parents are hippies.” he spots them, then, and lifts his joint in a get over here gesture. Kai and Adam shove some people to stand in front of him. He grins. “Oh, dudes, nice. You got drinks. I wasn’t sure if you would, since Mira told us that you, uh, made a pit stop.” he waggles his eyebrows.

Kai groans, flushing.

“Uh, yeah,” Adam says, lifting up his bags. “for drinks? Hello?”

Skeet leers, grin stretching bigger. Kai scowls. He’s going to eat her one day, all Hannibal-Lecter style.

“Where is Mira, anyway?” he cuts in before Skeet says anything weird. “Where should we put the drinks?”

“Oh, just, you know,” Skeet makes a vague gesture with his hand that doesn’t really mean anything. “I think I saw her in the kitchen?”

“Thanks,” Kai mutters, shoving through the crowd and deeper into the house.

Mira and Vanessa are leaning against the sink, Reeve’s standing at the counter, completely covered in bottles of alcohol, thumb and forefinger at his chin like he’s surveying fine art.

“Oh! You made it! I hate vodka without coke,” Mira says, striding forward and grabbing the bags from Adam.

Kai followers her back to the counter, and shoves the receipt into Vanessa’s limp hands without looking at her. Together, Kai and Mira start to set up the drink line, stacking up all the empty red cups at the edge of the counter as they try to make sure all the soda and alcohol are equally accessible. How Skeet even gets this stuff... he shudders to think.

Kai waits until Adam and Reeve have wandered out of earshot to lean into Mira’s space. Vanessa had vacated the premise the moment it looked like any physical work would be happening, so he doesn’t worry about her particular brand of nosiness. He takes his phone out of his pocket and tilts the screen so she can see it.

“My texts didn’t send,” he tells her in a low voice. “We weren’t actually, you know.” he flushes violently.

Mira shoots him a grin. “No, I guessed that something had happened. It was just funny. You look nice.”

He smiles at her, genuinely, which means his gums are probably showing. She looks nice too, in her little black dress with a flared skirt and combat boots. The neon green streaks in her hair glow in the weird light of the house.

“I like your outfit,” he says. The din in the background is starting to grow. More people have probably showed up.

She nods at his jeans. “Cuffed jeans. The true mark of a bisexual.”

Kai nods very seriously. “I can’t leave my house without announcing every aspect of my sexuality to the entire world.”

Adam’s talking to a group of people at the other end of the kitchen, his smile is blindly white in the pink light, skin pitched a shade darker, a stark difference against the glow of his white shirt. Staring, unable to look away, Kai steals Mira’s cup and takes a swig. It’s straight vodka, so Kai coughs immediately when it hits his tongue.

Mira laughs at him.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

speedyskeet: do any of u know anyone named travis montery

mirakat: no

lochnessa: No

abeaverdam: Nope!

humantorchkai: no

reever: nah

speedyskeet: fucking L lmao

speedyskeet: im kicking this fool out then

Kai’s wandering around, pleasantly buzzed from two Cherry 7-Ups with a tiny bit of vodka, looking for any familiar face. Mira and Reeve had abandoned him pretty much straight away, he’d left Adam alone in the kitchen, and he’s actively avoiding Vanessa.

He stumbles around, moving his shoulders a bit in time with the music, his body gone languid and loose from the heat and the alcohol and the atmosphere.

His phone beeps at him again. He really hopes it's not Skeet checking with them before he bounces a guy again. It’s just Mira, he sees, when he’s fumbled his phone out of his back pocket. He has to squint to read in the pink light amid the thrumming bodies of people all around him.

Eventually, he escapes the crowd and heads down the stairs to the “game room” and finds another living room, with a soft white carpet and a couch in front of a big flatscreen. There’s a group of about a dozen kids, plus Kai’s friends, sitting on the carpet in a circle by the couch, with a beer bottle laying on a Monopoly game board. Kai blinks, the lights here aren’t fun colors, and everyone in the circle raises their arms and cheers when they see him.

He walks over to them. Mira grabs his arm and begins to drag him onto the carpet beside her. The group begins to chant.

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

Oh, no fuck, Kai thinks, beginning to resist Mira’s grip on his arm. His drink is sloshing about, and Kai holds it away from his shirt and pants as he tries to reverse his crouch and pull his arm back. Skeet reaches up and confiscates the cup, downing the rest of it in one go.

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

But he’s buzzed and his coordination is spotty, so when Adam reaches out with his hand and spins the beer bottle, Mira tugs once, hard, and Kai crashes onto the carpet, and the bottle spins,

and spins,

and spins.

And points the neck straight at Kai’s disheveled spot in the circle.

So, let’s revisit that cursed theory, shall we?

Kai looks at Adam, and Adam looks at him. He’s got that dopey half-smile on his face, and his pupils are blown wide, iris a thin gold ring around them. Kai knows when Adam’s drunk, or blackout, and he’s tipsy right now, just like Kai. And... oh no. But the kids in the circle are jeering, giggling delightedly.

“Uh,” Kai says.

Adam licks his lips, and Kai tracks the movement of his tongue helplessly. His eyes are moving on Kai’s face, like he’s cataloging everything, like he can’t keep them still. Kai’s mouth is very, very dry, and he misses having the cup in his hand.

“So, uh,” he says, and the tension buzzes even harder. “Is this, like, a kissing thing?”

Skeet grabs him by the arms and manhandles him up. Reeve and Vanessa grab Adam and start frogmarching them down the short hall toward some rooms and closed doors.

“No,” Skeet says, “This is more like a seven minutes in heaven thing.”

“Wait,” Kai says. Skeet reaches past him and opens a door. “Wait.” Skeet pushes him in, and Adam follows behind. “Wait.” The door clicks shut, then there's a clunk, then the sound of something heavy being pushed against the door.

Kai tries the knob, but it's locked. He jiggles it, but his muscles won’t cooperate and yank hard enough. Adam could probably break it open, but Kai has the vague thought of Vanessa’s parents and property damage, and underage drinking.

“Guys!” Adam yells. He pounds on the door with his fist. “Guys! This isn’t funny!”

But they don’t answer.

Evil. Mental note: make sure your friends aren’t evil next time.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” Kai sighs, giving up on the door.

They’ll just have to wait out the seven-minute sentence. It’s simultaneously worse and so much better than the alternative. This way, Adam won’t have to kiss Kai if he doesn’t want to. But also: he won’t have to kiss Kai if he doesn’t want to. It’s a testament to how drunk all of them really are.

Kai turns, presses his back against the door, and slides down it, pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his hands around his shins, and resting his cheek on his knee. He surveys the room. It’s small and dark, Kai doesn’t have the wherewithal to search for the light switch, but from what Kai can see it looks like a guest room no one ever uses and has accumulated with old junk. There’s a tiny window at the opposite wall that leads up to the lawn. Adam groans and drops onto the ground beside Kai.

The night is clear the moonlight is touching the window and peeking into the room. Adam’s shirt is glowing against his skin from the moonlight, his eyes a bright point in the semi-dark of the room. Kai locks eyes with Adam, and the tension from earlier crops back up tenfold.

This situation is... stupidly pointed. Kai’s pretty sure Reeve is the only person in the world who knows Kai thinks Adam is kinda hot, but he’d also have to be massively stupid to ignore the strain in their friend group lately.

Adam’s looking at him the way he does right before he reaches out to touch Kai’s hair, or brush his fingers against Kai’s freckles, or leans over to kiss Kai’s cheek. He’s looking at Kai like a hungry man, like he’s about to make the stupidest decision of his life and never look back. Kai can feel the pull of that look drawing him in, the temptation to run his hands against Adam’s chest, touching his shoulders or his mouth.

So Kai does the only thing he can think of.

“What did you think of that new Hey Arthur episode?”

Adam blinks at him. “Uh. You mean that kids show?”

Kai bites his lip and nods vigorously.

Totally. Totally. Totally screwed.

reeb: [A video of Mira on the dancefloor among a huge throng of teens. The song in the background is completely drowned out by people attempting to sing along drunkenly. She’s grinding against Vanessa, who’s wearing Skeet’s sunglasses and drinking a mimosa with a cocktail umbrella in it.]

(Not sent !) kai: let us out of here!!! its been like 15 mins!!!! guys!!! dam’s phone is dead!!!!!

(Not sent !) kai: goddamn it COME GET US

(Not sent !) kai: NOTHING IS SENDING!!

reeb: lol wya we cant find dam either

(Not sent !) kai: YOU LEFT US IN THE BASEMENT

“Ugh,” Kai says, flopping back down onto the pillows beside Adam. At some point during their imprisonment slash debate on the ethics of twenty-three seasons of the same children’s cartoon, they’d moved from the floor to the twin bed. “I’m pretty sure they forgot about us.”

“Well, it’s been like thirty minutes. And they’re drunk.”

Kai’s starting to sober up. He has to pee, and his mouth tastes like cherry coughdrops. He stands up on the bed, bouncing a bit on the mattress. He reaches up and touches the seam of the window and the sill.

“What are you doing?” Adam asks, trepidation in his voice.

“Uh, escaping?” Kai says.

Kai presses his foot onto the upside down elliptical that’s propped precariously against an old wardrobe. He puts some of his weight on it, testing. Satisfied that it won’t give, Kai lifts himself up onto it, closer to the window, and pushes against the glass pane. The window opens out suddenly, making Kai wobble. The wardrobe groans.

“Careful!” Adam barks.

Kai glances back at Adam, his worried eyes watching Kai from the bed, sitting up on his knees in a half crouch. Kai sticks his head out the narrow window, then his shoulders, and manages to drag himself up and out.

He turns back around and offers his hand to Adam.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll help you out.”

Adam climbs up onto the elliptical like Kai had, reaches his right hand to Kai’s left and uses his left to leverage himself closer to the window. The wardrobe and the elliptical make that sound again, like they’re scraping together.

“Hurry!” Kai says, afraid of the whole makeshift apparatus falling apart. Adam’s left palm slaps against Kai’s right and Kai pulls.

The elliptical falls over as Kai yanks Adam up, a great big crash resounding in the room they just escaped. Kai’s momentum and Adam’s weight makes Kai step back once, then twice, then his footing goes and he sprawls onto his back, Adam on top of him, in one big undignified heap.

Adam looks down at him. He looks more sober, too, like he hasn’t had much to drink. Kai should really be pushing Adam off of him. Or trying to sit up. But his hands are on Adam’s waist, and Adam’s looking at Kai’s face like he can’t quite look at anything else, and Kai cannot, for the life of him, break this moment.

Adam’s hands are on either side of Kai’s face, boxing him in. His breath puffs against Kai’s mouth over and over as he breathes shallowly. His eyes flick all over Kai’s face, and Kai’s thinking kiss me, please so hard he’s pretty sure NASA catches the brainwaves.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” he says, voice soft and vulnerable, like Kai has the power to hurt him with whatever Kai says next.

Kai’s hands tighten on Adam’s waist. He’s thought about this a lot. Like, a stupid amount. Who doesn’t daydream about confessing to your crush? But Kai cannot dredge up any words to say. He’s dry, completely dry, and he can only think about how good Adam’s weight feels on him. He dips his eyes to Adam’s mouth and thinks This is where I kiss him, right? and Adam’s eyes slide shut as he leans in, towards Kai, and Kai loses his mind.

The backdoor opens, the sounds of the party spilling out into the night air, pink light washing over them. Adam scrambles off Kai so fast that he’s pretty sure he breaks the world record for speed, and stands up.

Kai props himself onto his elbows and squints at the silhouette in the doorway.

“Vanessa?”

“Oh my God, there you guys are!” she leans back into the house to yell, “Guys! I found Adam and Kai! They were fucking around in the backyard!”

“Hey!” Adam snaps indignantly. “You locked us in the basement! We had to escape!”

Vanessa rolls her eyes at them.

adam: hey uh

adam: sorry about what i said when i was drunk lol

adam: i didn’t mean it

Kai turns his phone off and stuffs it into his bag, frustrated. He hadn’t meant to not talk to Adam all weekend, he’d just needed to think things through, and then his dad had asked him to help paint the deck, and he’d had to finish up some code for robotics and time had kinda slipped away from him without really meaning to.

He hadn’t meant to ignore everyone else, either, but they weren’t in a Situation with Kai on Friday night, and he’s not in love with them, and they didn’t seem to mind so much.

Kai had spent all weekend staring at the texts, in between being too busy to answer them, but he can’t figure out what to say back. He’d gotten them Saturday morning after the party, probably because he hadn’t stuck around long enough to be left alone with Adam again.

Kai had left because.

Well, because.

Because he feels played.

Is that it? He can’t tell. He just feels so hollow about it. Adam doesn’t mean to, Kai knows that, but it still feels like he’s being led on. Adam has kissed him once while black out and almost kissed him while tipsy and flirts pretty outrageously, and it’s all too much for Kai’s head, which is designed for building robots and lying to his English teachers.

So at lunch, instead of going to Mr Tucker’s room, he lets Freddie from Calc drag him to the auditorium to help build the drama department’s Spring play set.

He’s not avoiding anyone. He’s just... helping his friends.

Fuck.

reeb: ok i give

reeb: wtf is going on

kai: ?

reeb: don’t “?” me mfer

reeb: adam is sulking n shit and u’ve been sorta MIA

kai: i’ve been busy, sorry

kai: i am the captain of a team u know. its not personal. i’ll hang out with you guys soon

reeb: spidey sense says there is something u are not telling me

kai: i really do think your spidey sense is actually overactive bladder syndrome

reeb: [An image of the caveman spongebob meme.]

He’s in the library, sitting in his favorite spot nestled in the bookshelves, brow furrowed over The Great Gatsby, his English journal, the notes Hannah lent him, and the Sparknotes page for the novel, surrounded by every color highlighter and pen, just trying to get his homework done, when Adam ambushes him.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, out of nowhere.

Kai jumps, sending his highlighters and books flying. Adam is standing above him, eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed. He looks a little bit light a superhero, all righteous indignation at injustice, his muscles buldging slightly. You’re dead. Goodbye. his brain supplies.

“Holy shit,” he says, gathering his stuff back up slowly. “You scared me.”

Adam’s eyes soften. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Kai shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

The silence hangs there as Kai avoids his gaze, reshuffling Hannah’s notes back into their correct order. He’s lost his page in the book, so he opens it to the middle and starts looking for the correct page number. There’s no sound in this corner of the library except for Kai’s over-loud breathing and the turning of pages.

Go away go away go away, Kai prays, wanting the world to end so he won’t ever have to face this moment. He thinks about the echo of Adam’s voice in his memory, Kai, look at me, the feeling of Adam’s weight in his lap, the ache Kai feels when he looks at Adam, and wishes that he could just stand up and run.

Adam clears his throat. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says again, only this time it comes out more like a question.

Kai keeps his face as blank as possible, schools it into something politely curious unlike the shattered glass mosaic he feels like. “Am I?”

Adam rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says haltingly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I shouldn’t have... come on to you like that. It was inappropriate, and we were both drunk. And I didn’t mean it.”

Kai looks at him for a long moment. He can feel it, a rock on his chest, crushing him. He feels the ball in his throat, the hot prickle against the backs of his eyelids. “I know,” he says eventually. His voice comes out steady, even though he feels like he’s falling apart.

“So... we’re cool?”

Kai forces himself to nod. “Okay.”

“Really? Because I still feel like I fucked up somewhere here.” Adam takes his hands out of his pockets to open them, palms up, like he’s pleading. “Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

And it’s now or never. As much as Kai abhors the idea of talking about his feelings in the school library at 4 PM, as much as he wants to just lie through his teeth and stitch this all back up into one big internal bag of FUCK and pretend like nothing happened, he’d be leaving Adam hanging, and Kai’s not a dick.

He takes a deep breath. Then another one. He tries to channel his internal Reeve, but decides against it because Reeve’s kinda an asshole.

“I just... wish you did,” Kai says eventually. If he wasn’t himself, he’d slap him. Adam stares at Kai like he’d just spoken another language, like he’d just spat out part of a puzzle to piece together.

“Wish I did... what?” he asks slowly.

“Mean it,” Kai grits out, the words dragged from him. He feels ridiculous. This is stupid.

“Mean...?” Adam says, like he’s stupid. Kai scowls at him.

“Do you remember the St Eve’s party?”

Adam shrugs, looking helpless and confused.

“I drove you home that party. I drive you home every party. And every time we’re alone, you say that you like me, that you want me to go inside with you, that you think about me all the time,” Kai’s stomach is churning and Adam looks like he’s about to faint.

“I didn’t...”

Kai can’t hear him say it again. “And I know that you’re just drunk, and that’s just what you’re like when you’re drunk, but I just... I just wanted it to be true so bad. Part of me kept driving you home because I wanted you to be like that with me, part of me just wanted to pretend. But then you kissed me, and I just...” Kai makes a helpless gesture with his hands.

Adam licks his lips. He’s breathing a bit hard.

“...Fell apart,” Kai finishes.

Adam’s looking at him, wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look, pure panic. Kai’s fucked it up, ruined their friendship, destroyed their friend-group, and will probably be unable to look anyone in the eye for a very long time.

Adam didn’t want to hear this. Kai should’ve just lied, shut it all up and let himself wither up inside. He should’ve avoided Adam harder, or refrained from falling in love with him in the first place. He should’ve just dated Jesse when she’d asked and made himself get over Adam.

“How long?”

Kai blinks. “Huh?”

“How long have you wanted...?” he shrugs.

Ah. The million dollar question.

“Officially? Middle of junior year. If I’m honest with myself? Probably since middle school.”

Adam’s mouth opens and closes nonsensically. Kai asks God to strike him down, just so this can end, just so Kai can go back to trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Gatsby and Jay, just so Adam will stop looking at him like that, like Kai’s killed his puppy.

Adam drops to his knees in front of Kai.

“Okay. Since freshman year. And I’m a liar. I did mean it. I kept thinking, you know, maybe you’d like me back, because I could see you looking, but I just couldn’t make myself say anything. And I meant it. I mean it. I do. I want to kiss you.”

Kai swallows. He’s feeling that dangerous thing again, like there are snakes in his chest, or his feelings are in a bucket that’s about to overflow.

“Okay,” he squeaks out.

Adam leans down and fits their mouths together. It’s chaste, and Kai’s lips are a little bit chapped, and he didn’t close his eyes, but when Adam pulls back Kai smiles so hard his mouth hurts.

And he leans up to kiss Adam, insistent, insistent, tasting Adam without Hennessy whiskey (and he does taste fantastic), and something electric happens to Kai’s spine when their tongues touch. He feels like he’s going to burn up, burst into stars, create a fissure in the earth that goes down to the core, or all three at once.

Adam licks along the roof of Kai’s mouth and yeah - that’s the one thing he’d like to never, ever, ever forget.

He’s about to be totally, totally, totally screwed.

Group: dandilyin hoes MFERsssss!! skeet DONT CHANGE CHAT NAME

mirakat: omfg

mirakat: k & a suckin face in library

mirakat: [A blurry creeper picture of Kai pressed against the bookshelves, Adam leaning over him. Their silhouettes are blacked out against the sunlight streaming in through the window, so they almost look like one body. It’s taken at an angle and half of a wooden shelf is in frame.]

speedyskeet: arent they in this GC too

lochnessa: Lmfaaooooooo

speedyskeet: they r gonna see this.....

reever: WTF ADAM’S INTO KAI???

reever: ?????

lochnessa: What planet do you live on

speedyskeet: fuckin jesus christ reeb

locknessa: Literally no one knew KAI was into Adam. EVERYONE KNEW ADAM WAS INTO KAI

reever: WHY AM I THE LAST ONE TO KNOW STUFF

mirakat: s2g i tld u this whn we were @ fortescue’s u nvr listen 2 me

“I hate them all,” Kai announces.

Adam looks up at him from where his head is pillowed on Kai’s thighs, Pride and Prejudice held aloft.

“Don’t worry, I set all their ringtones to Maroon 5.”

send me a ship + a prompt and i’ll write you a drabble!

#The Hollow #My writing #answer #kaidam

140 notes · View notes

shiishki · 4 years ago

Note

okay wait, i changed my mind. you should answer all of these questions as well, if that's what you want from me >:)

oof there's a lot of it, that's what i get for wanting to be ✨aesthetic✨

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

vowels (and the importance of being me) - hunny

honeypie - jawny

pretty young thing - michael jackson

mirrors - justin timberlake

sunflower - red orange county

paradise - rude-a

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

a therapist.

ok someone else.. uhh,, my grand grandma because i only have scratches of memories but i dunno if that counts since she passed away...

*rummages through ancient scripts* uhh ok someone who isn't dead.. uhm,, tommie? yeah I'd like to meet them if i could meet anyone on earth

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

ok, the closest german, english or polish book? nvm i have english

"suddenly was. So I just said thank you a few times too, and Mum" ironically this is one of the normal lines in this book

4: What do you think about most?

the fact that I'll have to do something after school. and I don't know if i want to go to college or get a job bc i have no legitimate idea on what to do with my life. it gets overwhelming, just the lack of knowledge about the actual experience.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

with, tho i sleep with just shorts in summer

7: What’s your strangest talent?

not sure if it's a talent, but i can fall asleep anywhere

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

girls are pretty. boys are pretty

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

by me, yes. no one else has written a poem about me specifically. nvm, tommie wrote one and it shall rest on my wall, or desk, i need to find a place for it

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

uhh i think last month?

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

i don't think so, but i am hella afraid of the possibly gigantic, terrifying things in the ocean depths that humans haven't discovered yet

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

yep, beloved legos as a lil child

13: What’s your religion?

i can't ever remember the name, but i believe gods (from all religions) exist in some way or form. so i believe in different pantheons and etc.

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

walking my doggo, skateboarding, thinking about how to make the lives of my characters worse

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

behind it.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

uhmm the arctic monkeys? or the strokes

17: What was the last lie you told?

i know what i want

18: Do you believe in karma?

yes, the rule of three specifically

19: What does your URL mean?

i don't know. it's something me and my sis came up with and that's just my whole identity now.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

uhh greatest weakness.. i can't finish things. strength is that I'm very stubborn so maybe I'll finish that thing out of spite

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

i grew up thinking crushes were like unicorns. my ex was odd enough to argue with that i didn't love her if i didn't have a crush on her. but I think if i had to guess.. selena gomez, especially in the role of alex russo in wizard of weverly street

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

nope

23: How do you vent your anger?

i write angry letters. sometimes they're sad letters. i write a lot of letters. except i never send them out and no one made a movie about them :}

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

jars and witchy bottles, books? scented candles

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

phone calls are stressful enough as is, i don't need you to see my reading off what i frantically wrote to not stumble over my words

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

i think so, yes, but that won't stop me from becoming better

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

hate flies buzzing right by my ear, love cat purring

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

what if I'd been born in a place where it was illegal for me (nonbinary) to live, in a time when others thought of me as a curse?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

they be chilling.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

right arm, doggo, left arm, pillow

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

fresh air and doggo, because doggo is with me and I can't live without open windows

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

i dunno tbh

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

which one is less homophobic?

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

every gender is my opposite gender. selena gomez and justin timberlake

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

to make it easier for people down the line

36: Define Art.

make thing, thing goes woo

37: Do you believe in luck?

yis

38: What’s the weather like right now?

it's nice actually, very sunny, slight breeze

39: What time is it?

12.59 am

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

i don't, but i once crashed into a fire department vehicle with my bike. bike ded.

41: What was the last book you read?

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

i legit ass don't know what gasoline smells like.

43: Do you have any nicknames?

many variations of my name, aka. Luce

44: What was the last film you saw?

i think it was Robin Hood: King of Thieves, but it might have been that half of spider-man homecoming i managed to watch with my poor internet

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

oh man i dunno... it's not an injury, but i was very sickly as a lil kid and almost died :)

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

once, years ago

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

hmmm horizon zero dawn i think

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

proud pansexual ^^

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

not really, i don't think they're big enough to be actual rumors,, meh

50: Do you believe in magic?

yis

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

meh. they suck, i know they suck, that's it.

52: What is your astrological sign?

cancer ♋

53: Do you save money or spend it?

i attempt saving. attempt

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

for my own money, sweets. i bought lizards for my cats so they can brush their teeth from my dad's amazon acc

55: Love or lust?

luv

56: In a relationship?

nope, i buy my own cookies

57: How many relationships have you had?

1, kinda toxic toward the end, very stressful, don't recommend

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

nu ><

59: Where were you yesterday?

on the fields walking my doggo

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

yep, a pastel pink hoodie in my closet uwu

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

yis, thicc warm socks

62: What’s your favourite animal?

cats

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

cuddles and food.

64: Where is your best friend?

bold of you to assume i have a best friend.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

tommie-hildebrandt, kageyuji, nekomas-kuroo, joyful-soul-collector

66: What is your heritage?

I'm a demon boi from Poland tho that's not a thing to be proud of, i mean, look at the economy. awful.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

sleeping, trying to sleep.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

Pinkton. or Satan.

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

this is such an odd combination of words i had to look it up. yea.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

a friend who won't laugh at me when i ask them to order smth for me because I'm too anxious to.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

excuse me? i am saving the doggo wtf. f u boss, I'm gonna sell my tragic story to the news.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) i tell my parents. b) live the hell out of them uwu c) nope uwu.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

trust.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

history maker - dean fujioka :]

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

3332

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

communication, trust, some more communication.

77: How can I win your heart?

let's not pretend to be something else to please each other, and bring some bitter chocolate.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

maybe. it could. i don't have a say in it since my sanity is held by tape.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

eat the pizza. stop caring about others not liking me/parts of me. just living for myself uwu.

80: What size shoes do you wear?

uh i dunno how the american sizes work and i don't wanna look it up so, 39, 40 fits too.

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

demon boi

82: What is your favourite word?

socks.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

the bloody organ that sits in your chest and pumps blood into your body so you don't die.

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

uhm im not sure if that counts as a saying, but fake it till you make it

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

blinding lights - the weeknd

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

oh a normal question people use for ice breaking, sea blue and pastel variations of it.

87: What is your current desktop picture?

like my wallpaper? or the actual picture that sits on my desk? or how my desk looks like atm? it's ugly, a lot of papers and pens and schoolbooks.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

donald trump. or the next asshole who'll try to take the rights of the lgbt and poc away

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

this. this is the question.

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

yo there's a pizza somewhere in the refrigerator, want me to heat it up? we can have a sleep over and talk about our feelings :3

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

telekinesis! or shapeshifting! i could do such fun things with telekinesis ^^ yeah I'd totally eat some radioactive veggies

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

that time my "friends" got me into shoplifting, half-hour is more than enough to punch some sense into my brain and develop good music taste

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

can i save this one? i don't think i have an experience horrible enough to be erased haha

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

sleep as in.. uh no thank u. but I'm down for a sleep over with sam smith ^^

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

just me? what about my pets? my fam? it's lowkey illegal for me to go just anywhere without them owO

uhhmm, greece. imma become part of the greek pantheon out of pure spite. and maybe toronto canada.

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

not any that i know of o.o

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

i think i may have but i honestly don't remember

98: Ever been on a plane?

nope, i dunno if i like planes, but I'd probably sleep if i were on one.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

yeet.

#that was long #probably because my stubborn ass wanted to make pretty formatting #shiishki.rambles #shiishki.interacts with tommie

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