#anyway how's everyone else doing on this fine day where the fabric of reality is falling apart

[yougobunny]

It's 2024 and I think it's finally happening... my brain has reached its limit... it's time for an LU tattoo..

[lunarscaled]

-> It isn't meant to be a berating, but they can't help but feel they've said something wrong anyways. Vlos gets frustrated the same way---when they curl up and try to protect themselves but never put a hand up against someone, or when they constantly move their own goalposts trying to meet expectations that are impossible. They have never thought someone deciding they were good or bad on a glance was superficial; they simply thought there was something profoundly bad within them. Something they couldn't hide or wash away but that other people could see. And they just accepted that. ( was there something wrong with being that person? diligently following orders and expectations, keeping their head down and out of the way; though they often bared their own teeth and words against someone they disliked, they fell into line easily. despite all their hissing and protests, they could be heeled with a single word. ) He holds his hand out for them. Despite the already heavy weight of their dialogue, that motion is what feels like the most decisive: they have to choose to accept other people again. It was always the most difficult task.

"... I want to believe everyone is capable of being a good person. Really. Even if someone hurts me, or hates me, or turns me away... I don't really... think of anyone as someone awful."

-> Their hands in their shirt twist and squeeze the fabric tighter. They want to take his hand but are afraid to---too many sharp edges, too many incidents. They are afraid of making the wrong choice. Of disappointing him. Of disappointing anyone. How can they be strong if they lean on others? How can they rise to the occasion if they let others bare the weight? Maybe if people looked at them less they would be better. Maybe if they weren't pretty or good or gentle they would be able to find the strength they are always lacking. ( that's not true. even they knew that. it's just easier to think they can shuck off parts of themselves to fit better the mold than the reality. they have never had issues injuring themselves. ) Are they liked by others? They think any moment they will be alone again, and that's fine, they'd adjust. If you don't depend on anyone you can't ever be disappointed.

"But some days, I feel like I have no idea what that person looks like. Me, or other people. Even the person I currently am, I feel like I can't recognize them at all. How can I be a good person if I don't even know what I look like when I'm staring at a mirror?"

-> The empty space that forms them: their face, their body that holds it, their insides. It all felt like scratched-out words in ink---a fuzzy mass of scribbled where their being should be. Who was standing in front of him now? Was it them? Was it someone else? Are they alive or are they just pretending to be? When they talked did people really hear them? When someone says they are beautiful, is it them they're looking at? Lyric isn't sure. They aren't sure. Their hands are trembling when one shakily touches the ends of the fingers of his open palm. They bite the sides of their tongue, feeling a sob well in their throat. ( they should compose themselves. letting people see them cry is unbecoming of a leader. )

"---I feel like I don't know what I'm doing. I just want to feel in control of my life."

❛❛ what makes a good person , Lyric ? Do people get to dictate who and what makes a person good ? These people who wouldn't bother to know you ⸻ wouldn't bother to look beyond their own perceptions and their own nose ? These people ? You mean the same people that can decide whether or not they like you based on something as inconsequential as your face or the look on it ? ❜❜ Saint sneered , nasty and ugly under the curl of lips. His teeth bared gleaming white , gleaming sharp. ❛❛ people only know kindness as something that serves them , IN terms that serve them. these people that expect you to bow and scrape , jump when they tell you to simply because they say so. ❜❜

❛❛ the one's that matter will earn your kindness or be worthy of it , not expect to be given it just because they're people and they're breathing. ❜❜ he held out his hand for them to take , fingers unfurled and unmoving , because he could sit here as long as his body would allow and offer his hand to them. ❛❛ Bleu , you good people. you decide for yourself what it mean to be a good person , so you don't need to betray who you are for who they think you need to be. ❜❜

❛❛ They crush , they hate , they break boys like me and expect me to be kind to a world that would sooner step on me. I take that choice from them. I decide whether I am horrid or lovely as I should. ... but I envy you. you got somethin’ in you that's magnetic , make people like you. ❜❜

[myckicade]

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

*

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

*

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

*

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

*

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

*

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

*

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

[gentlemancrow]

idk if you’re still taking requests so no pressure but maybe jmart 18 about jon’s scars? or,,, honestly however you wanna interpret that lol

Hehe bet you thought you weren't getting one. But of COURSE you're getting one! <3 HERE YOU GO!! Sorry it is late I am not a fast writer haha! This was a VERY interesting one to interpret and I got a little wonky and metaphysical there for a bit WHICH I LOVE and THE IDEA MIGHT HAVE BEEN A BIT LONG FOR A DRABBLE BUT! It's soft and I'm soft and I enjoyed this one SO SO MUCH ; w ; I hope you do too!!

Jon had Seen enough. Martin had decided that long ago. He had witnessed enough, been forced to witness enough, been the vessel into which literally everything had funneled into in an unrelenting typhoon of unspeakable, unfathomable horrific knowledge comprehensible only to him long enough that he damn well deserved the luxury of imperception. He had earned the right to not notice when Martin accidentally bought the wrong brand of chai, the one he insisted tasted like someone rubbed a stick of cinnamon on plasterboard and jammed it in a cardamom pod, but honestly tasted just like the one he preferred. The universe, whichever one they happened to be in now, owed him not realizing the buttons on his cardigan were one off until they were about to head out and Martin had to fix them, fingers humming with the warmth of him lingering in the cashmere every time. He deserved to forget his keys and then also have to go back to check that their flat door was locked twice, just to be sure. He deserved tossing cabbage in the trolley at the market, only to get home and realize it was a head of iceberg lettuce instead, and also he had completely forgotten the onion anyway so back he would have to go. Tiny and insignificant, patently human foibles that any normal person might tally up to a really rotten day overall and gripe about over a glass of Châteauneuf-du-Pape he had won as gleaming, pyrrhic badges on the ruins of his humanity yanked back from the claws of the yawning, devouring dark matter of the cosmos and stitched painstakingly back together with love.

But mostly Jon deserved to not notice the way people looked at him.

He need not see the painted-on expressions of strangers that ran the gamut from quiet pity, to voyeuristic curiosity, to outright revulsion that Martin could not help but see everywhere they went. They had no idea. Not even the slightest inkling of what, exactly, had composed that magnum opus of horror and pain scarred resplendently on his flesh, his bones, his sinews and synapses. To even try know was to go mad, the mind looping through and around and between consciousness and logic and love and fear and philosophy and metacognition until it squeezed into an ouroboros black hole singularity of dense unknowing that collapsed in on itself and perished in cataclysm. They had merely gotten lucky that being extruded through the plumbings of creation seemed to straighten out their fibers enough to be woven back into the fabric of reality, but they were too kinked and snagged and gnarled to ever lay fully flat again. And that was why they stared.

The invasive beings of Jon and Martin had come to mutual terms with it long ago, but they also knew they would be forever incongruous with an innocent world, with a world where they did not belong and that collectively looked at them both like an ontological cancer, benign but festering and ugly. They would never know the thing that crouched behind the stars with pointed knees and elbows that even then, groped to find their new world in the lightless vast, and Jon deserved to not perceive any hints of that either. He deserved their quiet, their peace, their wordless human acceptance.

Jon deserved to be innocently chewing a periwinkle-painted thumbnail in front of the ice cream counter, just as he was that gossamer spring afternoon, turning woeful and forever mismatched brown and green eyes at his husband and asking if he should get mint chip or rum raisin before deciding, actually, could he have a sample of the salted caramel ribbon first? He pointed eagerly at the various frozen tubs behind the glass with his gnarled right hand, where the fingers never did quite open or close properly again, and missed in his wonderment at the veritable cornucopia of sweet delights available to him the mingled look of pity and horror on the cashier’s face as she doled out samples at his request. Martin lurked protectively behind, silent, sentinel, seeing it all, a hot brand of fury boring its way through his chest as he glared icy blue daggers at the clueless young woman, who only compounded her crimes by complimenting the permanent white forelock in his ginger curls as she took his order.

Martin snatched his double scoop of rocky road and pralines and cream out of her hand with a withering scowl and said nothing. Jon, frowning in the dread shadow of Martin’s hushed wrath and finally deciding on just the mint chip, took it upon himself to pay while the poor young woman skirted around both their gazes. They took their ice cream to enjoy in the balmy sun on the metal patio tables outside the shop under a cloud of unspoken insults and slander which Jon was more than happy to pop open the conversational umbrella beneath before the downpour.

“Something wrong?” he asked solicitously.

“Nope. I’m fine,” came the curt answer, suspiciously also lacking in eye contact as Martin stabbed his pink spoon into the rocky road.

Jon’s mismatched eyes narrowed shrewdly. There was one thing that never escaped his notice, even now, and that was the painfully obvious way Martin always broadcast his inner hurts and the physical language of his turmoil he had become fluent in over the years.

“Okay, yes you are probably fine. And I’m guessing it has nothing to do with you actually, because you’re angry and you rarely get angry on your own behalf, which means it’s probably something to do with me or some perceived slight. What happened in there? Did someone make a snide remark about my eccentric ice cream selection? The long skirt on a warm spring day? Oh, no, I’ve got it. It was probably the earrings, yes? I knew I should have gone with the feathers instead of hoops, matches the outfit much better.”

The corner of Martin’s mouth quirked up in a hapless, crooked smile as Jon coaxed a laugh out of him, and he looked up into his gaze adoringly to grant him unspoken conciliation.

“No, no not at all. Nothing like that. It’s nothing, love. It’s not a big deal. Just low blood sugar or something. Just eat your nasty mint chip or rum raisin or whatever that unholy concoction is,” Martin snorted, gesturing at his cup.

“Liar,” Jon crooned with loving reproachment, reaching out to thumb a little bit of rum raisin on the tip of Martin’s nose as punishment.

Even breathed with such unfettered, undying affection, Martin hated that word. He hated how transparent he still was to the man he loved, how much he still truly saw him, saw through him. At least all it took to compel him now was a little melted ice cream rubbed clean off his nose and a winsome smile with love-puddled green and brown eyes.

“Okay, okay… fine,” he admitted with a resigned smirk and a sigh, “I don’t like the way they look at you. Okay? That’s all.”

Jon’s brow knitted together curiously.

“Hmm? Who? What do you mean?” he asked.

“Everyone!” Martin finally effused in frustration, “Everywhere! They look at you like you’re… like you’re damaged goods! Like you’re some pitiful beaten animal on the street, or worse, like you’re some sort of- some sort of um…”

“…Monster?” supplied Jon, lips pursed and lids drooping.

“…I wasn’t going to say that,” Martin stammered.

“What other word is there?”

“Fine, they look at you like you’re a monster. They take one look at your face or your throat or your… your hand. And I can just see it on their faces. They look at you like you’re a monster, and I hate it. You don’t deserve that. You never did! They don’t even know you! They don’t know what happened to you…! And sorry, Jon, but I get angry about it because it’s not fair, and I can’t exactly go about lobbing right hooks into the faces of everyone who even looks at you cross-eyed, now can I? Much as I’d like to…"

Jon went quiet as he listened, dabbling first in the rum raisin, then indulging in a little mint chip chaser, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully as he nibbled on the plastic spoon.

“Is that what you see?”

The color rolled out from Martin’s freckled cheeks along with the very spirit from his eyes in a fog, his entire mien awash in pallor.

“What? How could you say that to me? I would NEVER think that about you, Jon! How could you ever think I would think that? I-I know I said some awful things in the past about your scars, but I-“

“No no! Martin, no! Of course not! I know you would never!” Jon cut in, reaching across the table to snatch his hand and squeeze it reassuringly, rubbing his knuckles and over his wedding ring, “You misunderstand! I was asking if that’s what you see in their eyes?”

Martin clung to Jon’s hand, heart palpitating and breath easing.

“Oh…” he blurted dumbly, flushing with lively hues of reds and golds once more, “I-? Of course I do, what else could it be?”

“I don’t see that. I don’t see that at all,” Jon answered simply, “It’s… hard to describe but, damaged goods, disgust, morbid curiosity, those are all… Hard things. They have sharp edges. And when people here look at me, I don’t feel anything hard or sharp, it feels… soft? It feels gentle.”

Shaking his head, Martin frowned.

“Gentle? How is openly gawking at someone’s scars in any way gentle?”

“It’s just a feeling I have. I suppose,” Jon mused, thumbing at his beard with his free hand as he constructed an analogy that would make sense in his mind, “Mmm… Think of it like this. Humans, life, we’re all very visually oriented creatures, right? We respond to visual cues in our environments that are universally understood. We wear these rings so that everyone knows we belong together, just the same as bright colors usually mean poison, or how specialized feathers, or horns, or dewlaps and the like let others know they’d be a good mate, or how some things look like eyes or like entirely different creatures to scare off predators, and so on.”

The creases in Martin’s forehead only deepened in confusion.

“Okay sure, but scars aren’t a natural adaptation? We don’t look at scars the same way we look at pretty eyes on a moth wing or something.”

“I know that, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jon reiterated tenderly, “What I’m saying is I’ve always felt like my scars are a visual cue, but one that says to others ‘treat me gently’, because clearly I haven’t been. And it’s… well it’s been quite nice. You were about to tear that poor girl’s head off, but didn’t you see how she not only gave me about six samples when the sign clearly said two per customer, but then she also gave me the rum raisin ‘by mistake’ and then conveniently forgot to charge for it?”

“Wh-did she?” Martin gasped in shock, rewinding the transaction to remember that indeed, Jon had only asked for mint chip, but there was clearly also a generous scoop of rum raisin in his cup, ”She did… No I… I guess I didn’t notice…”

Jon let Martin’s hand go to cup his cheek pointedly in his scarred palm, running his thumb over the soft curve of his cheek and the spray of his ruddy freckles comfortingly.

“You want to know what I think? I think what you perceive as disgust or aversion or even pity is just fear, like you had. Fear of pain, fear of disfigurement, of fallibility. People are always afraid of seeing what can become of their mortal bodies, but that has nothing to do with me, or being disgusted by me. People are, at their cores, good and gentle, Martin. I know they are, we both do. They see me, my cane, my limp, my hand, my gray hair, my face, and they don’t even ask, they just know, on some primal level, that life was not kind to me. And so in some tiny way, like free rum raisin, they almost always try to give something back to me.”

Jon had known. He had noticed. It had never escaped his perception as Martin had assumed. Jon had known all along, but it was only Martin who still saw daggers in the smiles of strangers while he had taken the last vestiges of his powers irrevocably branded on his body and soul and sowed something delicate and beautiful and blossoming in his new earth. Martin had made a weapon. Perhaps no less delicate and beautiful, but still cold and sharp and deadly. The razor white edge of the sun through frigid fog.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” Martin choked, his throat pinching shut with the threat of tears, “I-I had no idea…. I-I only thought…”

“It’s alright, please don’t cry, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for. I understand. You only thought you were protecting me. I protected you for so long, when you were desperate to do the same for me, to save me, but had no power to do either. Now you’ve got your turn to do the protecting in earnest, and honestly, it’s a… can I- can I say hot? Can I say it’s a hot look on you? Or is that weird?” Jon asked, tips of his ears blushing coyly.

Martin managed a laugh as he sniffed back the tears and thumbed both sets of lashes dry under his spectacles.

“It’s a little weird for you, in particular, to say it, just because it’s you. But I’ll take it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Perhaps then, Martin thought as Jon leaned over their whimsical little metal table outside an ice cream parlor by a park with a striped canopy above them and birds singing and kissed his tears away and then kissed his lips into a smile, that sharp things needn’t always be weapons. Perhaps his sword was, in reality, a spade, or a hoe, something to tend and nurture the new and fragile happiness Jon had tilled. Gentle things deserved gentle protection, and he was still going to devote every iota of his being to protecting Jon until the end of their days. After all, as they finally got to enjoy their slightly melted ice cream, Jon still dribbled a bit of rum raisin down his beard and carried on none the wiser. Martin let him go on like that, blissfully unaware, talking about Polyphemus moths and the myth of the cyclops and something about someone going about as Nobody, until he finally reached out with a napkin to attentively wipe it away.

Other than a gracefully paced ‘oh, thank you dear,’ Jon never missed a beat.

[heli0s-writes]

pagan poetry*

A/N: Hey-o! After nearly 3 months of being a complete disaster, I ... did a thing. Very much my usual brand of filth. Thanks for sticking around as I continue to navigate this impending sense of oblivion!! 1.6k words of bangin’ Bucky Barnes. Yeeeeeeahhh.

Title is from this song, by Bjork. 🖤

Warnings: Smutty smut and heathen shit, what else is new with Helios?

brooklyn after dark masterlist

Steve asked if you were religious once.

It was an off the cuff kind of question, prompted by something you can’t remember now—silly banter over drinks and a background party, perhaps. Both grown weary of entertaining a crowd of strangers, etiquette spent nearing the night’s end. You’d shrugged lazily and prefaced that it’s hard to shake an entire childhood of indoctrination but now, by resolute choice, you aren’t.

You lied. You’ve never been more devout.

It was easier than getting into all the semantics, anyway. Where would you start explaining that you now spend more time than ever at worship? Not in the middle of Tony’s so-called “small” get-together of “only” seventy-five people. Certainly not a place to admit to Steve that your knees supplicate more earnestly than the most pious of priests, your throat constantly pouring the sweetest profession of faith—the name of the most divine.

Even if the two of you were somewhere more private, and he was at least half as drunk as you were, it’s a bit blasphemous, Steve, that you fuck Bucky six ways to Sunday and call it religion.

It’s a hard desire to curb when he looks like that. Bucky’s built like a god— his arm the kind of weapon you’d happily split your tongue polishing. Strong, powerful legs. Broad shoulders like lovingly carved marble, worked between the hands of a Renaissance master, tapered sharply down to his wasp’s waist.

His hips. Lord, you could dedicate eternity naming every last inch of his hips.

Such a pretty boy. How he makes you hungry to sin.

“Bucky,” you whisper, enthralled again when he steps out from a quick shower. Smoldering and glorious, and you’re Joan of Arc constantly being descended upon by a burning archangel. Some random night, like any other night, and you’re overtaken again. Hazy with orange glow, the billowing mist makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then, you feel… hm.

Wet.

He cautions the way you chew on your lip, eyes twinkling brightly because what else is new. You? Turned on? Bucky could be brushing his teeth and you’d start climbing him like your personal jungle gym.

“Sweetheart,” he begins warily, adjusting the towel on his hips—those beautiful, beautiful hips. “One more dinner with us swinging in late and they’re gonna stop inviting us.”

You nod along dumbly, deaf now and set on a singular mission. Crawling on your knees, you reach Bucky halfway as he tries to put an end to your pilgrimage. Tries because your palms are fast over the damp fabric, fingers threading through warm fibers before landing flat against his abs, feeling up to his chest, murmuring stupidly, always so shocked at his everything. You graze up his wrists, his forearms, making paths of taut muscle.

“How bout after dinner?” His thumbs gently brush the swell of your breasts before he holds you back, straightening your spine when you arch into him. “Promise I’ll give it to you good later.”

“Give it to me now?”

He laughs. “You really gotta work on your negotiation skills…”

“Huh… Lemme try again: give it to me… right now?”

Bucky groans in equal measures of exasperation and exhilaration when you fall back on your knees. A few more half-hearted baby, quit it, ‘m serious, and then he gives up completely.

“Steve’s gonna get himself in a mood.”

“Steve’s always in a mood.”

Wilted protests quickly disappear into the hollow of your cheeks, licked away by your clever tongue. He grips the back of your neck firmly, tilting your head the way he likes best, eyes flicking down to meet yours before they close. He keeps you there a little longer, his toes curling into the carpet with each bob of your head.

“Yeah, you’re—always in a mood, too—uhhm—“

And you hum in agreeance, but the sound only vibrates into his skin, making him groan louder.

Bucky’s voice is slurred, as if half drunk. “Can’t hear— mm— you, sweetheart…”

So you make something up to give him what he wants, that buzzing of your throat on his cock, and his thighs tighten in response, the hand on the back of your neck reflexively scrabbling to your shoulder with a hard grip.

It’s a bit counterproductive of you to be so sloppy, considering that Bucky’s freshly showered and cleaned up— the scent of his brisk body wash strong and harsh in your nose— but fucking him like it’s your job allows some insight to what he likes, and it’s easily this:

Dirty, filthy, drooling wet blowjobs. The messier the better and the faster it gets him there. Your radiant Right Hand of God, but goddamn is he a little devil himself.

Bucky’s growling by the time he hauls you toward the bed, depositing your thrilled skin on the mattress firmly. Red lips meet yours with force, plush and full, nipping at the corners of your wet mouth like he’s kissing back every trace of him. He presses on across your jaw, up and down your neck. His voice is husky sweet and breathy in your ear.

“You bad, bad girl.” And you start curling yourself into him, nodding for more. One of his hands is working himself, the sound of your spit slippery in his fist. “You got me all messy again.”

Your skin feels blistering and freezing at the same time, chills racing to your fingertips tightly hooked around his biceps. The outfit you put on for a nice, quaint dinner at Steve and Sharon’s too heavy now, too constricting, but he doesn’t let you take it off.

“Every morning and night not enough dick for you, is it?” Bucky brushes your hands away, taking hold of your chin and peeling your head back until you’re looking at him. His pupils are blown wide, the only thing left of his irises are two thin rings of barely there blue as he scans your face. Your brain is short-circuiting, hanging onto every syllable, every purse of his cherry lips.

He switches on and off like a light. Beautiful, soft, thoughtful one minute, all force and darkness the next. You faithfully take it all, every facet of him. Your angel boy. Your wicked soldier.

Joan of Arc was only hallucinating, but she wasn’t half as lucky as you to have conjured something half as astonishing as Bucky. Gorgeous strong jaw, bristles along his chin and cheek scrubbing noisily against your lips as he kisses you. His mouth— open and wet, sloppy against yours— hardly landing right and you’re toeing delirium by the time his fingers slide up your shirt.

Bucky pushes you down into the sheets, rucking up your skirt until it bunches around your waist. “We’re in a rush, remember?” He tucks two fingers into the elastic of your panties and yanks them to one side. Just enough. In a rush. Your thighs meet with a determined shimmy of his hips— those incredible hips— and then you’re full, so full of him.

The blood in your ears crashes against reality and bends it all sideways. Not religious like that, but since the first time you’d touched him, you’ve been cocksure if heaven were real, it’d be this. It’d be him.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Bucky promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your addled brain, the tell-tale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of where he’s connected— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time to it like a trained toy.

“Bucky,” you mewl, “Buck.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

He takes the back of your neck again, lowering his body over yours, faster now. Deliberately reckless and the entire bed is rocking, springs squealing under his pace.

“Oh my god,” you smash your brow into the junction of his shoulder, hanging on by a thread as he drives into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

His grip is tourniquet tight, thumb moving to the middle of your throat, pressing ever so slightly until your breath feels trapped under the swirl of his fingerprint. The curtain of his hair hangs over your face, blocking out the room going blindingly white. Your eyes shut tightly, opening only for a second to catch him panting over you, burning hot, his features flickering from utter control to trembling pleasure to something akin to frenzy.

Your vision shuffles like a deck of cards. His hands are everywhere. Eyes devouring every inch of your skin. There’s a million of him taking a million of you to a million more pieces. You shatter then, clawing his back and arms, singing like a fucking choir the infinity of his name.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. He makes your days holy. The altar of his body. The sacrament of his sweat. He breaks you apart into something luminous.

Religion. Not religion. Your heathen soul—whatever tiny fracture you may have—all his, forever. Now, tomorrow, at the end of the world.

So, when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished dinner, as predicted, over an hour late and in terrible disarray, Steve crosses himself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Sam clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.” 

All you can do is duck your head and grin.

[crescentmp3]

hii! part 2 is here.

part 2 - the glitch

after a long and challenging fight between the sidekick and the heroine, against the villainess, the latter has come victor. as the heroine lays on the ground bloodied, the sidekick trying to help her in fret, the villainess is ready to unleash her wide and numerous army of goons against the helpless village.

"attack!" she commands, and yet—

—whoopsie daisy. a glitch! that's kind of sad

let's see how the plot timeline of the second act plays out, then;

- teaming up of the opposing sides

- grieving for days

- coming up with a plan

- journey outside of what they know as reality

- journey through your computer

- locating the glitch

- fixing the glitch

- return to village

- extra notes for how plot affects characters

- end credits

boy oh boy this is a long act!

- teaming up of the opposing sides -

unsurprisingly, finding out that your entire reality is breaking apart because you did something you weren't destined to will be quite a shock for each character.

once the characters realise the situation, the first to speak up, though terrified and begrudgingly; will be the villainess. despite having a lot of pride and arrogance, she knows she can't fix the tearing fabric of the universe by herself. (find scene for how her offer plays out in: farglitch disorganized notes and scenes)

once they have teamed up, reluctant fear and urgency mixed together will make determination. but first...

- grieving -

... they must digest the situation.

when they realise that all their life has been a lie for someone elses entertainment, that what they've called home for all their lives is now tearing itself down because of what they did, that no matter how much they may love their life, it's all a fake fantasy-

-it will, unsurprisingly, destroy them. this part will consist of one long cutscene with some conversations between the characters.

the sidekick will react by shutting down, the heroine will react by being easy to bring to tears, and the villainess will react with anger. this cutscene will be drawn out and should bring a similiar empathy to the player. but once they get over it, grief will turn into a driving source to fix what is theirs.

- coming up with a plan -

they will come together in one room; the villainess' headquarters, which she has invited them to. they will be seated around the grand table of the conference room, trying to figure out and understand what to do, with help from the villainess' goons, who we will have met in part 1 as the non-hostile npcs.

they will debate on what they could do; a goon we'll know as a technician will bring up how paths in a computer work, and how they can get into it. other goons and our characters will bring similiar advice to the table that are based off of their best qualities; the villainess will devise plans on how to protect themselves when going there, the heroine will bring morale and make sure everyones certain it will go well, the sidekick will figure out the best routes with the technician goon, and other goons will bring i don't know whatever. anyway

this cutscene should allow the player options for how the heroine may speak, which will define how our relationships with the other characters go, as the heroine's role in this scene is to keep everyone determined. the cutscene does not have a fail-state; it will simply allow the player options on which goon(s) to befriend, and whether they want the heroine to romance the villainess early on or not. the sidekick's fine we're already friends

i'll also allow the player to explore the conference room as the heroine, similiarly to other areas in the game.

- journey outside of what they know as reality -

what a long damn title. not the point

the most influential characters for this part are the sidekick, and the technician goon's notes.

as the glitch is a visual tear in the fabric of their universe, their journey will start where the battle between good and evil took place. the glitch will affect their lives in the way that npcs keep lagging, bugs keep happening and no one is able to get work done, and everyone's fed up with it. i will take inspiration from actual bugs that happened when making part 1 to put into this part.

once they have entered the tear, they will be met with a gigantic cyber-world that represents the innerworkings of a computer. the cyber-world will be made up of three main parts; the GUI, the TUI and the hardware.

the heroine, sidekick and the villainess will go to the tear and start their journey trying to find the source of the glitch.

- journey through your computer -

the GUI will be extremely large and will be made to represent the actual files of the game, with graphics like that of windows 95. the characters won't feel to afraid, but will still huddle close together. they will be attacked by anti-virus measures that try to be rid of them, detecting them as viruses trying to infiltrate the system.

the TUI will be even larger and will be made to represent an actual TUI, made to look like a codespace filled with syntax and code, with parts of it taken from the actual code that will be written for the game. it will be a world of mainly black with colored npcs and enemies that represent strings of code, and syntax animal npcs. they will be attacked by error messages and will make it through this part by having reached the command line.

the hardware will be made to look like actual hardware. things will be rough and hard, increasing the urgency and delicacy of the situation. there will be no npcs in this entire area to strengthen the fear. the characters will be attacked by what represents electricity, but this area will be focused on parkour and fast maneuvers more than actual combat.

once they have reached the motherboard, they will slip into it and fix the glitch somehow i don't know come back to this later when you're a computer scientist. shut up

- return to the village -

after the glitch is fixed, we will have a cutscene of the three characters making their way back through the three parts. the cutscene will have minor changes, where the heroine will greet the npcs the player befriended in the first two parts.

once we have finally made it back into the village, the last cutscene will play. (see: farglitch disorganized notes and scenes)

- extra notes for how the plot affects the characters -

throughout part 1, the characters were established with their stereotypical archetypes. they were flat and one dimentional, not very thought-out, and only had the traits they were expected to.

throughout part 2, they will discover things about themselves and grow. the heroine will fix her destructive selflessness, the sidekick will fix their need to be useful, and the villainess will fix her destructive selfishness. they will all grow to be fond of each other and help each other right their wrongs. they will find it hard, but they will not give up.

at the end, they will have turned into multidimensional and compelling versions of their previous selves, now more than what they used to be.

- end credits -

the end credits will absolutely be mentioning gerel. hi gerel

the end credits will be made up of pieces of art that depict the characters living their lives after the very end.

the sidekick will have their cat muffin, now living in a cottage of their own, having the technician goon as a colleague that they now work with.

the heroine and the villainess have moved in together. they give speeches to the folk, they walk outside together, they stargaze, they go out for dinner, they chat and they flirt.

the three will also be depicted just hanging out. going on picnics, going exploring, visiting the old goons, going on festivals, et cetera

yay! happy ending. good night

i would love to broadcast my story ideas directly into your head. alas the closest i can get is posting about them online instead

[tojislvtb0t]

Sorry To Wake You

Hatake Kakashi x F!Reader (fluff)

“When sleep doesn’t come easy, he can always count on her.”

She sat up and looked towards her window where he sat crouched on her small balcony, his open eye filled with exhaustion, maybe even a little boredom. Typical Kakashi. Her feet touched the cold ground lightly and she wandered to the window on the balls of her feet, making little to no sound. The window opened and he tilted his head as she moved aside.

“It’s late this time, Kakashi.” Her voice quietly cutting through the silence after a few moments.

“Got lost on the-“

“-path of life.” The two said in unison. He laughed softly. “Come in. It’s kind of chilly tonight.”

He did. Kakashi often found himself in her home on nights like these. Nights he laid awake, thinking of everything he did wrong in his life, or nights where the PTSD ate at him mind’s sleep only to startle him awake from a night terror. There was something about her that was comforting. He could say that he was infatuated with her, that he could see a future with her, but he would lose her. Like he’s lost everyone else.

“Sorry to wake you.” Kakashi said, his hand scratching behind his head, voice heavy with exhaustion. He probably hadn’t sleep very well in the past few days. “I’ve been tossing and turning all night trying to stay away, but... well, you know I suppose. I always seem to sleep a little better here.”

“It’s okay, I have trouble sleeping anyway. You don’t ever bother me when you come here.” She smiled softly at the copy ninja, touching his bare shoulder to reassure him, brushing down the Anbu mark tattooed on his skin. Kakashi felt himself blush under the mask, thanking the moon’s dim light as well. Her touch... her. “‘Kashi-kun, c’mon.” He shook his head from his thoughts, feeling her tug his wrist to follow her to bed. That nickname. It made him forget what he really was to everyone. Cold-blooded Kakashi. Friend-Killer Kakashi. Kakashi of the Sharingan. He wouldn’t have minded them if they weren’t true. Of course, that is who he is and he wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t, but she could distract him from it for a little while. “What?”

“Uh? Nothing. Just thinking.” he replied. She raised an eyebrow at her guest, but crawled into bed without pressing, leaving room for Kakashi to follow. She often wondered why it was her he came to. What made her the one that seemed to comfort him most? Kakashi was, well, to be frank, a pussy magnet, although he was a bit strange and reserved, after all, no one just read porn in public like he does. She’s not even entirely certain he’s had sex with anyone. No matter, younger women of the village didn’t even need to see his face to be attracted to the man, his attitude and politeness did it for them. She’d never seen his entire face either, so she wasn’t counting herself as super special, but she couldn’t help but get warm inside when he appeared at her window on any given night.

It didn’t used to be like this. She used to think Kakashi was cocky and arrogant, that his captain fueled ego made his head huge and he was obnoxiously good at everything. And his chidori. He lived up to the name cold-blooded Kakashi back then. The way he had programmed himself to turn off every emotion he had and be a killing machine. Nowadays, now older, those who didn’t know him would say he’s lazy, always late, and has no care or desire to do anything unless it was a mission. He rarely went out, and when he did it was at the pressure of Gai and Asuma. But she knew that it was quite the contrary. Kakashi was a wonderful sensei, albeit difficult, that pushed his students past their breaking points. He cared greatly for his missions, too. Kakashi wasn’t the distant, closet perv everyone thought him to be. She knew the older ninja better than that.

“You don’t have to apologize for coming, you know? You always act like it would bother me.” she glanced sideways, watching the shinobi crack his knuckles and settle into the pillows behind him. His scarred Sharingan eye met her sideways glance before his head turned towards her. Was he making sure to remember this? “No pervy novel tonight either, that’s not the Kakashi I know.”

He responded with a shrug, face and eyes going back to the ceiling, calculating but relaxed. Kakashi was constantly on edge, maybe that’s from his Anbu captain days. She wondered what he was like before all of that happened to him, before Rin, before his father. What kind of man would Kakashi Hatake be if none of that happened. Would he be married now? Have kids? Still be an Anbu?

“You’re staring.” His voice snapped her out of it.

“I- I was not staring, I was just...” She trailed off, huffing quietly. Kakashi smiled softly under his mask as how flustered she got. He wondered if she would do what she did four nights prior in her sleep. Kakashi had been sitting awake reading his novel as she snored softly, murmuring nonsense. He looked down, watching her, contemplating what she could be dreaming about (hoping it may have been him). She furrowed her brows and reached her arm across her bed, placing it over his waist and pulled herself against his flank, one of her legs bending to rest over his.

Kakashi froze when she did, the Icha Icha novel forgotten, but still open in his fingers. He slowly closed the book, trying his best to stay as still as possible as to not to disturb the woman curled up in the crook of his torso and his hips. His fingers threaded through her soft hair, a knot growing in his stomach and she squeezed his body just a little tighter. Kakashi thought to himself that he wouldn’t mind ending ever night of the rest of his life like this, just her and him... and the hounds. But just the two of them. Maybe he wouldn’t mind a kid, but if not, this would do just fine for him.

“You know,” Kakashi turned his attention back to the present as she finally broke the silence. “you’ve always had that mask on. Why? I mean, every time you come here you’re still wearing it. Even after all these years we’ve known each other.”

He chuckled quietly. “Just... something I’ve always done. Even before the Anbu or the Academy. I look too much like my family... too much like my father.”

“I bet it’s a handsome face.”

“Hm?”

“Your face under the mask. I bet it’s handsome. Maybe it’s not a bad thing to look like your clan, Kakashi, after all, you’re your own person. What happened to your father is no reflection on who you are.”

Silence hung over the two, neither wanting to say what they so desperately wanted to. He was too afraid to love and she was too afraid to get hurt. Kakashi made up his mind, his fingers reaching up and lowering the fabric in the presence of another for the first time in a very long time. She watched, eyes growing wide as he let out a breath as the cool air touched the bottom half of his face.

Of course he was that gorgeous. Of course he looked like a god in the moonlight. Of course Kakashi Hatake was the pussy magnet he was. She noticed small details. Particularly he beauty mark under his bottom lip, lips that curved perfectly and looked soft. She smiled when he looked down from her gaze, cheeks tinged pink with the embarrassment of being admired.

“I was right.” He looked back at her as she stroked a hand through his silver hair.

“Don’t flatter me.” he said.

She felt particularly brave. Why? She didn’t think she knew. But she turned Kakashi’s face and pressed her lips to his, and they were soft. So soft. The hand reaching around her back was calloused from years of missions and training, but the arms that enveloped her were sturdy and strong. They didn’t kiss one another rough, there wasn’t just lust between them. They had more, something unspoken, something that started years ago when his soft knuckles hesitantly touched her window for the first time.

“You can come to me anytime, Kakashi.” she said to him that day with a smile after he had disclosed to her about his night terrors. “Sometimes it helps when someone else is there.”

Kakashi whined ever so softly at the loss of her kiss when she pulled away. Her soft laughter was music to his ears, he didn’t want to lose her, but it would be so much worse if she was with someone else.

“I’m afraid.” Kakashi confessed. She listened, locking her eyes with his as she carded through his hair softly. “If I lost you like I lost everyone else... I don’t know what I’d do... I want you, but I don’t want to get attached and have you ripped away from me.”

“Oh ‘Kashi...” Her eyes held a sadness, a small amount of pity for him. Of course he was scared, but to hear the copy ninja himself say he was afraid just felt different. “You don’t need to be afraid, but it’s okay to be.”

“It’s always been you, you know? Even when it seemed like I wanted nothing to do with you.” She blushed. “In reality, I was afraid that if I let myself love you, you’d get taken from me...”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her face between his neck and her arms. He wrapped one arm around her upper back and the other around her waist, pulling her as close as possible. He didn’t need her to answer, the way she held him now was enough for Kakashi to know. “Don’t you have to meet your students tomorrow morning? It really is quite late.”

“Mh. They’re used to it.” he murmured to her. He was always late, always has been, always will be. And to be with her, he’ll be late to everything. She laughed lightly, swinging herself off his body and sitting back with him, her arm touching his.

“So we’re going to try?” she asked. Kakashi nodded once and brought his arm up and around her shoulders, sighing contently when she rolled a bit to tuck herself against him. This was going to be fine this time, that’s what they both told themselves. It would be fine.

[apexqueenie]

The Blood King (Bakugou x Reader, Medieval AU) Ch1

Synopsis: In fairytales, princesses like you got to marry handsome princes like your best friend Shoto, but you’re not living a fairytale. You find the harsh realities a punch to the face as you and Sho run away outside palace grounds and into the real world. But the harsh brings out the beautiful, and in your case, it took the form of the scarlet covered barbarian king, whose territory you disturbed.

A/N: This is the first long series that I’m writing, I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, a bit of violence (This is Bakugou lol), eventual smut (I’ll put a warning dw, totally skippable)

[Ch1]->[Ch2]->[Ch3]->[Ch4]->[Ch5]->[Ch6]

You didn’t know how much more badly a plan could go, but here you were, lost, wounded, and scared in the middle of the freaking forest, the sound of a very angry beast trailing after you. You tugged at the unconscious man on the floor, his head bleeding severely. He was losing too much blood and you couldn’t keep pulling him along without stopping the bleeding first. Your only option was to fight. How did this all start exactly? Well, it started when you decided to ditch your wedding.

***

In a daze, you pulled yourself from your slumber, rising to the sound of gentle knocks at your door. “Who’s there?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. 

You shivered slightly and crossed your arms, realizing that you had kicked off your blankets in your sleep. Your best handmaiden, Ochako, barged in, not even bothering to answer the question. 

“Good morning princess” she sang delightfully as she opened your large curtains, allowing the morning light to spill into the huge room. Ochako, although not being of royal blood, was a close friend of yours throughout the years. It was her job to serve you, but you loved her and treated her as your sister. 

“Chako, I told you (y/n) is fine when we’re alone” you said with a yawn.

Ochako hummed as she walked to your wardrobe, sifting through it for the perfect dress. “Ah, but you see your highness, we aren’t alone.”

Before you could question her, a familiar face peeked around the door, heterochromic eyes glancing around the room. “Hi” he says before entering the room and closing the doors behind him.

“SHO!!!” You yelled, launching yourself out of your bed to give your childhood friend a big hug. You haven’t seen him since last summer.

The both of your fathers were Kings of kingdoms who traded with one another, meeting in person once a year to discuss the details. While they both enjoyed a bit of drinking and chess, you and Shoto ran around the gardens barefooted with sticks in hand for fake swordplay. They were always about knights and dragons, and since there were only two of you, you took turns being the dragon or the knight. Princesses weren’t taught to practice swordplay, so Shoto took it upon himself to be your mentor. He taught you what he remembered from his private lessons, insisting that if you were to meet a real dragon like in your games, you would be able to fight it off. 

“But won’t you be here to protect me?” you asked, lowering your stick.

“Yeah,” he said, “but when we meet a real dragon, we’ll be protecting each other.”

Every year, you two would meet to run around the gardens, hiding from your handmaidens and butlers until meal time. Every year, you would shy a bit away from the games and start sparring for real, Sho providing the wooden swords to teach you what he’s learned from the top sword fighters across the continent. Every year your blades danced with his until the both of you could read each other’s movements with a single glance. And every year, you felt a growing affection for the boy that you were too afraid to bring up. 

The two of you talked about your home lives often, sharing stories and complaints about being “perfect” and a “role model” to your citizens. Shoto’s father constantly pushes everyone in their family to their limits, causing the Queen to go insane and burn Shoto, leaving a signature red scar on his left eye. While she was locked in the medical housing part of the castle, Shoto started to understand why his mother lost her mind and silently started to rebel against his father. Your father was similar, always correcting you and forcing you to practice perfect mannerisms. You were his first born, you were supposed to be the perfect example of what a future Queen was to be, especially for your younger siblings; the second born son barely of age to train by sword. If you were anything less, you were to be locked in your room until you had time to “reflect”, your maids unable to speak to you in fear that the King would hear and throw them in the dungeon. Your mother, being too vain to involve herself with any of her children, never saw any of you until your birthdays. She opted to drown herself in self-pampering every other day. Both of your lives were royal hell until “The Meeting”, where the both of you could forget about being perfect for a day.  

You wrapped your arms around Shoto’s neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck, the both of you clutching each other close. His body radiated its own heat, warming you more than the thin fabric of your nightdress could. You pulled away, realising he got even taller this year. 

“I missed you Sho!” you smiled.

“Likewise” he replied, slinging his sword from his back, only there was another object wrapped in silk next to it. “Did...anything interesting happen this year?” 

“Hmmm,” you pondered, walking to your vanity and grabbing a brush. “Well, Jinko is pregnant again.”

“Your mother?”

“Heh, she was never around enough to be a ‘mother’, she’s merely my birth-giver.” you snorted, combing your soft locks. 

“So, is that the fourth…?”

“Fifth.”

“Well then.”

“Yep, and as soon as she’s done pushing it out, she’ll ignore it 364 days of the year. Hell, Ocha was there more for me than my mother ever could be” you say, earning a small blush from the girl.

Shoto sighed, taking a seat on the edge of your bed and placing his sword next to him. 

“Anyways, what’s the meeting about this time?” you asked now moving onto cleaning your face.

“That’s… uh...well, I have to talk to you about something soon, but first, I brought you a gift” Sho said a bit awkwardly. He turned and handed you the silk wrapped object. You took it gently, afraid of breaking it, that was, until you unwrapped it. Your mouth dropped as you felt the silk fall off and onto the floor, completely forgotten as you held up the object in awe. In your hand was a long silver blade engraved with delicately curved patterns surrounding a single mother pearl at the center and down the blade itself. The hilt fit perfectly in your hands, the weight completely balanced. 

You were damn near about to cry. “Sho...its-”

“Get dressed so we can try it out” he smiles and hands you the sheath.

Giddily, you sheath your sword and headed to the dressing curtain where Ochako waited for you with a big smile. She seemed to have known about this whole visit because she held up a bit more of a casual dress, one that wasn’t as long as it normally would be. You never understood why you had to wear dresses as a princess, but it couldn’t be helped, you had no control over your clothing choices. Ochako however, had the power to hem the dresses for you so you could run with a bit more freedom. 

***

“Sho! I can’t believe you did this! How’d you manage to sneak this by your dad?” you ask once you are dressed. You moved to take the direct route to the gardens, but Shoto pulled you to a different route around. “Sho?”

“That’s the thing I have to talk to you about,” he said, peeking into all the rooms and hallways before entering, “I don’t want to run into anyone else right now.” He pulls you along swiftly until you reach the gardens, taking one last look around you before relaxing a bit.

“Hey, Sho, what the heck is going on?” you ask, lowering your voice.

The boy in front of you couldn’t look you in the eyes. He was worried about something, which was totally uncharacteristic of him. Trying to ease his nerves, you reach out and gently squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t respond back. Instead, he just sighs, finally about to say something.

“So...you know how we...always meet up every year?” he asks.

You nod, slightly confused at where this was going.

“Well, our fathers have been discussing…”

“Discussing what?”

“Something very.. special for next week-”

“My birthday isn’t for a couple of months”

“It’s not that-”

“Then?”

He turned his head and sighed. 

“...Discussing our marriage…” he trails off.

“Sho! Oh wow, This-this is great!” you beamed. You always thought about the day you’ll have to marry someone. Your role as a princess was to marry a prince, and become a beloved Queen to your kingdom. You dreaded that it would be for trading purposes, that you’d have to marry some pudgy old man so that your father could share more land, but you had the option to marry your best friend! Anyone would be delighted at the thought...anyone but Shoto.

Your smile quickly faded as you studied his face. He expressed a mix of guilt, awkwardness, worry, and something you haven’t seen before…was that fear?

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, still unable to look at you, “I can’t do this-”

“Is it too early still? Because it’s ok, we don’t have to-” The words stung, but you couldn’t let that get to you.

“No! No, that’s not it, it’s just that I can’t”

“You can’t what? Tell me what so I can help you.”

“I… I love you (y/n), just...not like that” he says, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What? Wait, what do you mean?” you asked, stomach dropping.

“I just mean that I, I don’t see you like that.” he said.

“So, I’m not good enough?” you shook your head.

“-No-”

You could feel the tears stinging in your eyes, “so...there’s someone else?”

He lets go of your hand to rub his arm in a nervous manner, “No, that’s not it either, I just don’t know how to explain it-”

But he was lying. You knew Shoto was a bad liar around you. It was bad enough that he couldn’t look at you, but even worse that he was taking steps away from you, slowly inching backwards in the opposite direction. He wasn’t trusting you with something and you didn’t know why, but your anger took over, and suddenly, you didn’t want to know why either.

“Well then, I’ll leave it to you to inform our fathers that this wedding won’t be happening, Todoroki.” you huffed. You saw the hurt in his face when you called him by his last name, but you could care less right now. You turned around and headed back to the castle, back to your room, and back to Ochako so you could cry in comfort. You kept your eyes trained at the ground, a silent message to all your servants to leave you alone. However, the message was left unknown to someone who didn’t live in the palace, someone like King Enji. 

You were cut off from the path to your room by the tall and heavily built man, his eyes cold and harsh staring at you from above. You stopped and immediately curtsied in respect, as you were representing your father every time you met with a leader of another kingdom. 

“Good morning, King Enji.” you said, giving him a well practiced ‘princess smile’.

He only grunted in response, nodding his head to the sword strapped to your back. “I see you received my son’s wedding gift, do you find it satisfactory?”

“Oh-the sword, right! It’s beautiful, your greatness. I am so humbly honored to receive such a gift.” you bow. You had completely forgotten it was there after what happened with Shoto. It was supposed to be a wedding gift, a sign of his love for you, but he didn’t love you like you loved him. You should be throwing this thing away, you should feel disgusted...so why did those words come out so naturally? Why did the sword feel so familiar? Hopefully Ochako could help you answer those. 

King Enji nodded in approval, motioning to some servants he had waiting out of your sight. “You have good manners, young one. Perhaps my son could learn a thing or two from you when it comes to respecting his elders.”

Two female servants took place besides you, awaiting further instructions from their King. 

“Your father has agreed to allow me to provide the dress, courtesy of the profits he helped me make last year. My servants will be taking your measurements, as well as note your likes and dislikes for the preparations.” he says before walking off.

All you could do was smile now. You couldn’t make your father look bad, even in front of servants. You continued to hold back tears as the handmaidens escorted you to your chambers.

So much for spilling your heart out to Ochako. 

***

The maidens were merciless, insisting that every measurement be as precise as possible. You tried to delay them, but your efforts were futile. They brought every bit of conversation back to the dress, and to the wedding plans you know you won’t have. Guards were installed in front to ensure no one came in or out until every inch of your body was measured to perfection. They measured your breasts and behind about five times over to ensure that “your best qualities were perfectly framed” for the wedding. Best qualities? Were you just boobs and ass for the future King? You sighed, still letting them continue their measuring. Shoto wouldn’t have cared…

No, he was Todoroki to you now, until he can give you an explanation. 

But...do you even deserve one?

As King Enji’s servants gave you a break to bring out supplies for your fitting, you walked over to the sword your “fiance” gave you, unsheathed for its glory to shine on your bed. He knew how you liked it, designing it to perfectly mirror you. He took note of everything you loved, remembering your style interests from whenever you two would talk for hours on end. You traced the flawless engravings on the blade itself, almost tearing up again. Turning the sword over, you saw the engraving on the bottom of the hilt, small, yet beautiful nonetheless. 

“Let’s protect each other from now on”

All the anger you felt before was gone, replaced by pure guilt.

He really did love you.

Just not in the way that you had hoped. 

You were being selfish, and you needed to make it right. 

Before you knew it, you were yanked back to the full length mirrors for more measurements. 

Both the measuring and interrogations lasted nearly the entire day with the servants drawing several designs and re-measuring you for each one. Of course, they didn’t accept a “that looks fine” or “this one is good'', so they continued to create new ones, each more extravagant and beautiful than the last. Evening came, and the maidens packed their materials to head back to their own kingdom. You thanked them sincerely for all their hard work and rushed off to say goodbye to Shoto until he disappeared over the hill and into the forest, like you’ve always done...except you weren’t.

You arrived to meet your father, King Enji, and Shoto in the main hall a little out of breath while they said their last goodbyes. King Enji broke his attention away from your father to give you a polite nod, acknowledging your presence. Your father noticed this and turned to give you a big hug, laughing heartily. 

“Can you believe it? You’re getting married in a week! I need to tell your mother straight away! She would be so proud.” he says, pulling strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yes, I believe she would” you smile. You weren’t in the mood to explain that she’d only use this as an excuse to out-fashion you on your own special day. 

Shoto hung his head in silence right next to his dad, still not making eye contact with you. You tried to pay him no mind and instead focused on building up your courage to ask something of King Enji in the politest way possible. 

When you got the chance, you squeezed out every bit of bravery left in your system to say “Erm, King Enji, is it alright if Prince Shoto stays?”, twiddling your fingers innocently.

The red headed man looked a bit taken back by the question, but he didn’t seem opposed to the idea. He snorted, waving his hand to Shoto, who stared at you with an open mouth.

“Ah, young love,” your father chuckled, and went to see his comrade out the door.

Without a second to spare, you grabbed Shoto’’s hand and led him to your room, closing the door behind you quickly. 

“(y/n), what are you doing?” he asked, watching you shove a chair underneath the handles of your doors. You had enough palace servants for today. 

You turned around and immediately threw your arms around his waist. He stood rigid with surprise before hesitantly hugging you back with a light grip. He was still confused from the fiasco earlier, but didn’t blame you.

“Sho....I’m so sorry, I should have understood.” you whispered. “I hope you could forgive me..”

He gave you a slight squeeze, “Of-course, (y/n). I’m sorry too, I-”

“Stop. You don’t need to explain anything to me. All we need to do is get this wedding cancelled.” you interrupt, looking up at him. “Also, I’m glad you didn’t say anything.” 

He looked relieved, giving you a soft smile. “Thanks, (y/n).” He pulls away from you and takes a seat on your bed next to where your blade still sat, unbothered. “But, I realized that if I were to tell my father, he’d assume it to be an insult no matter what I say, and end the friendship. with your people. Then he’d have me married off to someone else and make my life more hell than it already was. I’d rather be married to my best friend than a stranger.” he smiled.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words escaped you. You were stumped. After all of this, it turned in your favor, but you didn’t want this anymore. 

You huffed and stood up abruptly, heading to your drawers and searching through them. 

“What are you-?” Sho trailed off, standing up with you. 

Finally, you found an assorted set of bags you use to collect things on your trips to the forest. With most of your years being devoted to molding you into a perfect queen, you haven’t used these for anything more than bringing home a pretty set of rocks in hopes that your mother would pay attention to you. Now, you were finding the biggest ones, planning to fill them with essentials to help you survive the woods. 

“We’re not going to do anything we’re forced to be into,” you said, “No matter what, our fathers won’t allow us to cancel this, but they can’t do anything if we’re not here.”

“(y/n), you’re not thinking of leaving are you?” he asked, worry apparent all over his face. 

You handed Sho a bag, staring him straight in the eye. “I’m absolutely thinking of that.” You grabbed a bag for yourself and shoved the rest back into your drawers. “We both have siblings who can inherit the throne, right? And if we disappear together and write a note saying something like “oh this is going too fast and we decided to take a break together in the mountains”- neither of our fathers could blame each other, so-”

“Hey,” Sho laid a hand on your shoulder, “we don’t have to do this. I told you, I really thought about this, and as long as it’s you, I’ll be happy-”

“No, Sho,” you said, shrugging off the hand and looking through your closet for extra clothes, “you can tell yourself that, but that’s not going to be true. I want you to be just as happy, and that’s not gonna happen if we go through with this marriage. Look, I know Ocha’s grandmother lives in a small town East of here, past the forest. If we can get there, we can rest and figure out what to do, ok?”

You looked at him for confirmation, his brows furrowed and his lips spread into a thin line. For a few seconds, he contemplated the terrible outcomes of your plan, but he knew you would just do this yourself if he didn’t come with you. 

Finally, he nodded before he could change his mind.

This probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but at least you were together.

[s3as1cks4m]

I don't know if I'm doing this right I think I'm supposed to send an ask idk?? ekjfjebfje

(I had to retype that keyboard smash multiple times like y'know when you type it and it's just wrong?? happens to me all the time I actually spend quite alot of time retyping my keyboard smashes if I feel they're not accurate, I just akjdfhjd until I get it right this was pointless I'm sorry)

ANYWAY

hi hello yes I am new here I like your headcanons by any chance do you have any for Yuki? if you've already posted something I didn't see it I'm blind or smth idk dkdnfj

I know I'm being annoying and this is super long I'm sorry hhhhh

also! if you don't have time/you're too busy/you just don't feel like writing Yuki headcanons you don't have to! it's truly just a request and I don't want you to get stressed or burnt out or anything ^-^

ok have a good day or night or whatever bye :)

you're doin just fine hgkdkdj (also i know exactly what you mean about the keyboard smash)

You ask for Yuki headcanons and I shall deliver!! (now that im back on my bs😎)

Yuki Headcanons !!

He has everyones likes and dislikes down!!

Him and Tenma have Life360 so Tenna doesn't get lost💀 (that or they're facetiming the whole time to Yuki can tell him where to go)

Yuki, gets a notification that Tenma is *not the place he's supposed to be in* texts Tenma: Now how tf did u get there🤨

Tenma: I literally followed your directions, so don't even-

Yuki: YOU MOST DEFINITELY DID NOT??!

Yuki: YOU ARE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN DUMBASS💀

Tenma: 😀 im calling you rn, pick up.

Misumi has a comfort hoodie, and one day after a very long triangle hunt, he came back upset because he has tore a hole in the hoodie :((

Yuki fixed it for him and now the hoodie has a cute triangle patch :)

He knows all the fabrics everyone likes and dislikes and always makes sure everyone is comfortable in their costumes

Anytime Tenma goes shopping Yuki goes with him because a. Tenma is bad at directions and b. Tenma is bad at picking out clothes

Guy is often looking for things to do, so sometimes Yuki has him help him sew

Speaking of which, the times where Taichi and Kumon are helping him are so chaotic

Like all three of them laughing so hard not even an hour in💀

The vibes are great fr fr

Him, Muku, Kumon, and Taichi have sleepovers and it's always fun

like they're always doing something man💀

Taichi is definitely that person that makes everyone laugh when they're supposed to go to bed HGKFKF

Yuki and Temna watch reality shows together

Like Tenma had it on one night cause there was nothing else to watch and now they're both invested

Like 'schedule their day around a new episode coming out' invested

Banri will ask him if an outfit he has is good (cause he thinks it looks good) and Yuki just 😑

LIKE HE JUST WONT LOOK AT IT FOR MORE THAN 5 SECONDS

LORD HE IS SICK AND TIRED

he's just like "😀 you do you ig"

Him and Tenma spend hours roasting each other then when it quiets down Tenma's like "Do you really think i have a big forehead 😰" and Yuki busts out laughing

Hope you like these!! :D

[amazingmaeve]

Sad Beautiful Tragic ↠ Cedric Diggory

Cedric Diggory Masterlist // Harry Potter Masterlist

Cedric Diggory x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Cedric Diggory had a sad beautiful tragic love story

Warnings: Major angst, Fluff (in flashbacks), Cedrics death

AN: Had this idea when listening to the song ‘sad beautiful tragic’ by Taylor Swift. Not everything in this is accurate since I needed to change a few things.

All Y/N could see was his body. His dead body.

She had been there to cheer her boyfriend, Cedric, since he was in the twizard tournament. Y/N was against the whole thing at first but she supported him anyways.

At first when Harry came through the bushes and it was the end of the tournament. Y/N thought all the worrying and anxiety was over.

Y/N was cheering until she notices people’s expression changing.

That’s when Y/N saw him. Cedric but her worst fear came true. He had died and Y/N didn’t know why Fleur and Viktor made it and they lost.

When she reached Harry and everyone else she scrambled through the mountains of people. When Y/N finally got to the front she saw his lifeless body.

When Y/N looked at him she let out a choked sob as she covered her mouth to keep it quiet. People looked at her in pity.

Y/N knelt down next to him and Harry as Dumbledore knelt down as well. Harry explained that Voldemort was back but Y/N blocked it as she looked at his face.

Y/N let tears fall onto his lifeless body as she sobbed looking at her boyfriend.

She wanted to disappear. Y/N wanted to go back into time and beg and plea for him to not enter himself into the tournament.

This was all happening so fast.

The face she saw an hour before. But Cedric looked happy then now there was nothing.

Y/N couldn’t handle the pain as Mr. Diggory came over to his son. Y/N ran off the field to a tree where she slid down the wood and finally let out the sobs.

Y/N thought her and Cedric were gonna be together forever. He promised when he signed up for the tournament.

Tears escaped Y/N’s eyes one after another as the reality sunk in. Cedric was dead. The love of her life was dead.

She brought her knees to her chest and sobbed as she poured out all of the tears she had. Y/N was running her hands through her hair and tugging at it.

This was not supposed to happen. They were happy together. Why did this happen?

As she sobbed into her knees Y/N thought about the moment she met him. It was one of the best days of her life. The day Y/N met the love of her life.

It was in their fourth year and Y/N was a Hufflepuff and of course she’s heard about her fellow housemate. Cedric Diggory.

He was pretty popular and everyone knew him. Even people in different houses knew Cedric Diggory.

Y/N thought Cedric was incredibly good looking and seemed like a good guy. Whenever Y/N saw him Cedric was always making everyone laugh.

Y/N’s had a crush on him since their 3rd year. But she didn’t have the guts to go up and talk to him.

Whenever Y/N gained the confidence to even walk towards him she felt butterflies in the bottom of her stomach and her palms were starting to sweat. So she just ran away which probably didn’t look good to him.

But one day Y/N walking or her potions class and she was speed walking trying to get there before Snape bit off her head.

But Y/N’s body collided with someone else’s knowing her books to the ground.

Y/N let out an annoyed sigh before saying “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes grabbing her books before standing up noticing who she ran into.

It was Cedric fucking Diggory.

“No worries,” Cedric smiles at Y/N which made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

“No I’m sorry I was rushing and didn’t mean to run into you,” Y/N rushes out an apologize again not looking Cedric in the eyes.

“Y/N calm down it was an accident,” Cedric laughed which made Y/N’s neck heat up from embarrassment.

“O-ok,” Y/N stuttered holding her books tight to her chest forgetting all about Snapes class.

“Going to potions class,” Cedric awkwardly asked rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yup trying to get there early so Snape won’t yell at me for being late,” Y/N explained with a little chuckles. “Well I should go,” She quietly says walking around Cedric.

Y/N continues to walk but hears footsteps running up behind her.

“Y/N wait up,” Cedric yells catching up to the girl who looks up at him confused.

“Yes?” Y/N questions as she stops to look at the Hufflepuff boy.

“I was wondering if you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tonight,” Cedric asked the girl who had a flabbergasted look on her face.

“U-uh yeah sure,” Y/N stuttered smiling at him.

“I’ll see you at 10 love,” Cedric smirked at her and ran off to go to his class leaving the giddy girl to herself.

And that was the start of something beautiful.

Y/N ran to her dorm and laid down on her neatly made bed and curled into a ball letting out sobs.

This couldn’t be happening.

They were gonna get married and have kids and then send them off to Hogwarts.

As Y/N sobbed into her pillow she thought about the good times and the rough times between her and Cedric. Their relationship wasn’t perfect they had fights.

And one of the biggest fights was at the beginning of this year. Their last year.

When Y/N heard Cedrics name was called she was furious. Cedric didn’t even tell her.

Everything was fine. Y/N and Cedrics relationship was wonderful when they came back. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Y/N knew about the tournament and she knew she didn’t want to enter it or Cedric. But Y/N knew she couldn’t control him.

But she just wanted him to be safe. Y/N knew how dangerous this could be.

They explained to everyone that this could change people and he still did it.

So Y/N did something really petty. Gave him the silent treatment.

“Hey love,” Cedric jogged up to Y/N after they announced who was in the tournament. The surprise was that Harry was was chosen as well.

Y/N continued to walk ignore him and went on her marry way. Cedric scrunched his eyebrows in confusion wondering why Y/N wasn’t talking to him.

“What’s wrong love why aren’t you talking to me,” Cedric softly asked stepping in front of her so she couldn’t walk away. They were standing in the grass lots of students were sitting or standing talking to one each other.

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh before about to say something when someone interrupted.

“Congrats Cedric hope you win,” A student congratulated him clasping his hand on his shoulder.

Y/N rolled her eyes again stomping off away from Cedric and the other student. But before she could get anywhere a hand clasped around her wrist stopping her.

“Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it darling,” Cedric snapped getting angry and the girl who looked up at him, anger evident on her face.

“I’m mad that you put yourself in the tournament but I’m even more mad that you just didn’t tell me about it,” Y/N yelled at him.

Cedric didn’t know that he thought Y/N would be okay with it. Before he could say anything Y/N stormed off to her dorm room leaving Cedric standing there flabbergasted.

Later on that day Cedric came to Y/N’s door and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Y/N love let me in please,” Cedric pleaded noting the door was locked.

Y/N stood up from her bed exhausted before unlocking the door letting the boy in. He noticed that her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

“What do you want to talk about,” Y/N asks running her fingers through her hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I just thought you’d be fine with it,” Cedric apologized.

“Just tell me why you entered the tournament,” Y/N tiredly asked.

“I didn’t think I would get picked I just didn’t it for fun,” Cedric rushed out sitting on her bed. “Why are you so scared,” He asked holding onto her hand bringing her to sit down with him.

“You could get hurt,” Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry I won’t,” Cedric reassured her kissing her forehead.

“How do you know,” Y/N looked up at him.

“Because I’ll do anything to get out the other to see you,” Cedric played with her fingers not meeting her eyes.

Y/N brought her lips to his bringing him into a kiss. Y/N accepted that there would be no way Cedric wouldn’t get out of this so she would support him.

For the next few days Y/N couldn’t get out of her dorm. And luckily finals were done.

Y/N tried to go to Dumbledores speech but once he started to talk Y/N ran out of the room with tears running down her cheeks.

Y/N laid down on her bed with tear stained cheeks as she sobbed into her pillow. The tears soaking the fabric.

She picked up a picture from the end table of her and Cedric. Y/N runs her finger in the picture smiling through the tears.

Y/N sadly smiles as she looks at the picture of her and Cedric at the Yule ball. She remembers that night and it was memorable one.

The thought of the night made more tears fall down Y/N’s face and onto the framed picture over Cedrics face. She misses him so much.

The Yule ball was apart of the twizard tournament and Cedric had asked Y/N a few days before. And Y/N gladly accepted with a smile painted on her lips.

Y/N had picked a lavender dress with very neutral make up and some purple high heels, which would make still shorter than Cedric but still a bit taller.

Y/N walked down the stairs with her purse and saw Cedric. He looked so handsome in his suit and by the way he looked at her, he was also surprised.

“You beautiful love,” Cedric complimented kissing her cheek as she meets him at the bottom stair.

“You don’t look too bad your self,” Y/N teases with a smirk.

“Shall we,” Cedric held out his hand and Y/N put her hand in his. Cedric walked her to the main room and Y/N’s widened.

“It’s so beautiful,” Y/N whispered looking around as he walked her to the dance floor where the chosen people were place.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Cedric whispered as he put his hands on her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Y/N smiled as she felt her heart race. And no matter what this was the best night of her life.

“I love you,” Cedric whispered leaning his forehead against her.

“I love you too,” Y/N breathed in his cologne as she swayed along with him to the song.

Nothing’s changed much as Y/N came home for the summer. She still cries herself to sleep and when she closes her all she sees is Cedrics dead body.

Y/N can’t get it out of her head.

Her family has tried to help her through the nightmares but nothings really helped. Y/N still wakes up crying.

Y/N’s family suggested a therapist but Y/N refused she didn’t want to relive her memories of her and Cedric.

When it gets to hard for Y/N she goes to a lake to clear her thoughts. She closes her eyes letting the wind blow through her hair as she fondly thinks of happy memories of her and Cedric.

She has her feet in the lake as the cool air makes her feel calm and not so stressed. And it’s moments like these that make her miss Cedric.

But it usually ends up with her crying.

Y/N thinks of the second task when she does and how Cedric was there to save her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Y/N heard Dumbledore say. She looks up from her books to see the headmaster standing there.

“Yes Professor Dumbledore,” Y/N asks straightening her back out to see the headmaster.

“Will you follow me I need to speak with you for a couple of minutes,” Dumbledore asks and Y/N nods.

“Of course,” Y/N goes to grab her books and following Dumbledore to his office where Ron and Hermione and Fleurs younger sister are.

“What’s going on,” Y/N asks her grip tightening in her books. Dumbledore goes off to speak to Professor McGonagall.

“I have no idea I thought Hermione knew,” Ron answered pointing towards the Gryffindor girl.

“I don’t know everything Ronald,” Hermione sneers at the red head.

“Well you always act like you do,” Ron fires back as Hermiones face gets angry it’s almost the same color as Ron’s hair.

“You must be wondering why’re here and it’s for the second task of the tournament,” Dumbledore answers what everyone is thinking. Come to think of luckily he came before Hermione tore off Ron’s head.

“But we aren’t apart of the tournament,” Y/N puts her books down.

“You three are very important to the contestants and we must ask for contest for what’s going to happen,” Dumbledore wrings his hands in front of his waist.

“Will we die,” Ron blurts out. Not blaming him Y/N was nervous something was going to happen to either her or Cedric or anyone else.

“Heavens no,” McGonagall answers shaking her head.

“You all will be safe,” Dumbledore reassures and the three students nod hesitantly.

Dumbledore hands Y/N, Ron, Hermione and Fleurs sister and vile of liquid and Y/N examines it for a second and hears someone fall.

Y/N jumps looking to see who fell and see Ron lying there. Hermione looked in concern as well as Y/N but the Fleurs sister fell as well.

“Don’t worry it’s what’s suppose to happen,” Dumbledore reassures them again.

Y/N takes a deep breath before gulping down the vial and feels nothing for a second. Then she sees spots and finally blacks out as Hermione takes her vial.

As Cedric stands at the dock next to the contestants and looks to the crowd and frowns when he doesn’t see Y/N.

He starts to get worried but then the bell songs and Cedric has to jump in before he can forget.

As Cedric could now breath under water he swims to find out what he needs and when he does he is shocked. Cedric sees four people in their robes. His face falls when he sees someone he recognizes.

Y/N.

What the hell was she doing here.

Cedric swims as fast as he can towards her putting his hands on his cheeks. Lucky there’s still a pulse as he unties her feet.

Cedric sees Harry looking at Ron and Hermione as he swims towards him bit he can’t think for too Long as swims towards the top letting out a deep breath as reaches the top.

Y/N gasped for breath as she wipes the water out of her face as she feels someone grasp her waist.

She looks through her matted hair and sees Cedric smiling at then swimming towards the dock as people help them up.

Viktor comes up with Hermione. But Fleur comes up alone.

Cedric holds her close as he feels her shiver trying to keep her warm with the blanket that he was given. Y/N snuggles up to him as they look worriedly as Fleur freaks out about her sister.

Y/N lets out a sigh of relief as Harry emerges with Ron and Fleurs sister and swims towards the dock.

“Lucky you saved me,” Y/N smiles at Cedric.

“I’ll always save you love,” Cedric kisses her forehead as she rest her head upon his chest feeling her self warm up to him.

Now Y/N sits there in front of the therapist that she reluctantly agreed to. And as she sits she knows she doesn’t want to talk to the therapist.

“How do you feel today,” She asks as she sits one leg over the other her pen out ready to write.

“The same as yesterday still missing him,” Y/N sadly sighs as she rest her head in her hand. She feels tears threaten to come out but she has to compose herself.

“Believe it or not Y/N but things will get better,” The therapist tries to reassure her.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Y/N whispers. “Everyday I feel like I’m drowning and can’t swim to the top,” She says wiping her tears away.

“Now tell what was the last things you said to Cedric,” She asks.

Y/N sighs as she things before the third task and how happy she was for him.

“Be careful alright,” Y/N hugs Cedric and he chuckles into her hair and presses kisses to her neck.

“You know me love I’m always careful,” Cedric teases.

“I’m serious,” Y/N scolds hitting his shoulder Cedric only smirks at her.

He leans down to kiss her lips as the stand there for a minute kissing savoring the moment and not kowning that would be the last time they kissed.

“I love you,” Cedric whispers against her lips.

“I love you too,” Y/N repeats breathlessly. Someone calls Cedric and he looks back before turning back to Y/N.

“You gonna be my own personal cheerleader,” Cedric teases walking away slowly.

“Only for you,” Y/N laughs not knowing not even a day later she would be soaked in tears.

As Y/N walks through the walls of Hogwarts at her last year she tries not to think about the times with Cedric.

But at the same time those happy memories were all she has and no matter what he would always be in her heart.

Y/N would never forget the love of her life.

And even though Cedrics dead they had a sad beautiful tragic relationship.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 16 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (15)

Next part (17) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

The Loss Of A Friend

You've never been to a funeral. Well, you did, but you were a kid and you didn't know the family friend who was being buried that day. In your child's mind, you didn't get why everyone was wearing black, in uncomfortable silence, crying all day long. You remember clearly that a blue bug got your attention, making your eyes follow its every move, making you smile despite the sad atmosphere.

It couldn't be more different today.

As the coffin is lowered into the ground, where Jason will forever rest now, you hold Billy's hand, the soft fabric of your black dress tickling your tights. You barely feel it though, all your sensations resumed to the weight in your chest, crushing, squeezing your ribs, smashing your heart.

You suddenly remember the day Monica introduced you to Jason. It was the Saturday before you started working at the pool, in the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. He had his little brother on one arm, and the girl walking beside him, tugging on the hem his shirt.

“So that's the new girl.” He said, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out his hand for you to shyly shake. “I'm Jason, born to bear the weight of being Monica's cousin, but also the coolest guy you'll find in Hawkins.”

That, of course, started a small war of cheesy pick-up lines, insults, and sarcastic comments. You laughed, feeling easily welcomed by Monica's cousin.

Now, what gets your attention is how his young siblings cry, yell, calling out Jason as is he was just sleeping inside the wooden box and would wake up, smile, and start chasing them around again. He won't. Jason is only a memory now.

“I think we should go,” Billy says in a low voice, letting go of your hand to rub your arms softly.

Nodding, you let him guide you to his Camaro, driving you away from the sea of people dressed in black. You've known Jason for such a little time compared to everyone else here, who saw him grow up, studied with him, lived near him for many years. Your pain is just a speck of dust compared to theirs.

When you get home, the sun is setting. You decide to call Diane, just to make sure she's alright, but you don't tell what happened. It would make her come here immediately, and the last thing you need is someone else you care about being in danger. You have to lie, despite hating yourself for it, telling her that your voice is funny because you had to yell a lot with the kids at the pool. But it's better this way. There are more than enough people here you need to worry about.

“Come here,” Billy calls when you finally head to the bedroom. He sits in the bed, back against the headrest and you're quick to crawl into the bed and into his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“I don't know. Sad doesn't really explain it.” Putting your legs over his, you hide your face on his neck, breathing in your favorite cologne, the only one he uses since the day you told him that. “I can't believe I buried Jason. Jason. My crazy-ass friend.” Your voice cracks and you hold back a sob. “I'll never hear those stupid jokes again.”

“I'm so sorry, princess.” There's a pain in his voice too. Billy has been around Jason a bit, mostly with you. But you know he's actually sad because of how broken you are. You can see it in his eyes, that he wish he could take your pain away, and that he's desperate because he doesn't know what to do.

But there's nothing Billy or anyone else could do. You can't fight death. You can't hit it with a baseball bat full of nails until it gives your friend back. The only thing you can do is avenge him. Get whatever took him and destroy it.

“I wanna kill those Demothings.” The anger in your voice is tangible, and you clench your hands into fists. “I swear to God, Billy, I'll kill one of them myself.”

“Anger won't help. We need to be smart about it. We need a strategy.” Billy is often angry with things. Mostly with things that hurt you, but this time, you get why he's taking another path, trying to calm you down instead of putting more wood in the fire. “The meeting is set for tomorrow. We'll find a battle plan to kill those damn things.” His hand comes to lay on your thigh, fingers softly caressing your skin. “But for now you need to rest, ok? I'll cook something you like and then we'll cuddle watching some nice movie. How does that sound?”

“What if I cry through the movie?” You ask because more tears start rolling down, it doesn't matter how many times you try to get rid of them.

“Then I'll hold you tight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Billy is kind enough to try and get you into some small talk. Nothing too complicated, nothing related to the Demothings or Jason. You're thankful for that. He even manages to get a few laughs from you, although they're always followed by a reality check when the events of the last two days hit you again, and the smile is gone.

A couple of hours later you're watching Jaws, your head on Billy's chest as you try to follow the events of the movie. But it seems way too fast for you, or it's just your mind that's refusing to process anything that's happening.

You just keep thinking about death. About how Jason's whole life was cut short. How all of his plans for the future were erased.

“Billy, can I ask you something?” Keeping your voice low, you speak up for the first time since you came to the living room after having dinner.

“Of course, princess. What is it?”

Biting your lip, you consider if you should really bring that up. It's selfish to talk about your future when someone else won't have one. But this whole situation made you want to make plans because it's a privilege to still be here. It's a blessing to still have time. “What you said to Joyce about... Marriage. Did you really mean that or–” Pushing yourself up from where you were laying on top of him, you take a deep breath. “–or were you just trying to get out of the conversation. Because it's ok if–”

“Haven't I made it clear that I want to be with you for the rest of my life?” He moves to sit up as well, pulling you close until you're placed in between his legs, a hand caressing your cheek. “Because if I hadn't, I'll make it clear now. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I don't know how it happened, and it did get me by surprise, but the day you walked in the Hawkins Community Pool, I knew something changed in me. I knew I had to get to know you, and I did thought it would pass, that I'd get tired of you as I got of the other girls, but I didn't.” Billy holds you closer to him, your foreheads touching. “You hit me like–”

“Bang.” You finish for him, the memory of the day he was unbelievably honest with you coming back. The day he admitted to you, and somehow to himself too, that he liked you. It was also the day he punched David, and the day he kissed your cheek, making your stomach burn like it has been set on fire.

“Like bang.” He breathes out, warm lips coming in touch with yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him as close as you can, the need to feel that he's here, with you, clouding the sound of the TV. Billy moves to lay back down again, and when you move to follow his change of posture, your knee slips and connects to his ribs. “Ouch!” He breathes out, cutting off the kiss.

“Oh, shit. I'm so sorry.” Covering your mouth, you bring the free hand to rub his side. “Sorry, baby.”

Taking a deep breath, he grabs your arm and pulls you down, making you collide on his chest, giggling. “Sorry. I shouldn't be joking around with you now.”

Squinting your eyes at him, you try to get up, but his strong arms come around your body, keeping you from moving. “I hate you, Hargrove.” The fake sentence is soon overcome by a giggle. “I'll kick you right this time, I'm warning you.”

“Oh, I'm shaking like a leaf.”

“Don't test me, Hargrove. Keep in mind we sleep on the same bed and I know all of your habits, baby.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Mumbling, you manage to stand up, moving back into a sitting position. You know he actually let you go, but there's no reason to acknowledge that. Taking a deep breath, the sudden happiness is stained again, as the memories crawl back. It seems like Billy notices because his smile softens. “I love living with you, you know that, right?”

“I love waking up next to you every morning.”

You can't help the smile that comes to your lips as you bend over again, kissing his lips.

On the next day, Billy calls Anthony to ask him to give you a few days off work. Obviously, you have to urge your hothead boyfriend not to curse the manager and risk losing his job. You feel fine to go to the pool, or you think you do, but the truth is you wouldn't be paying much attention anyway. And much to your dismay, Billy gets a total of zero days off. No discussion, what makes him hang up the phone so hard you thought he broke the poor thing.

Since you don't want to be alone, and Billy would absolutely never allow you to be alone in the house when you're friend just died, he drives you to Joyce's place, where the party will gather to make plans.

Saying it's hard to be away from Billy on the day after you buried Jason is a misunderstanding. Seeing him drive away from Joyce's porch makes you feel like he's taking your heart with him. He didn't seem pleased either, but there was no other choice. You wouldn't make him miss the day, since you know Anthony is a terrible human being, just looking for the right excuse to get rid of the lifeguards.

“Honey, come inside,” Joyce calls a hand on your shoulder. “Can I get you something to eat? We had pizza last night and I have a slice in the fridge.”

“No, thank you, Joyce.” Politely, you decline her offer. “Is there any bed I can crash in?”

“Sure. Come.” Walking through Jonathan and Will, you wave at them, muttering a good morning and trying not to cry at their sad faces. They know Jason was a close friend, and, like everyone else, they don't know what to do or say. “This is Will's and Jonathan's room. Just pick a bed.” Nodding, you choose the one on the left and lie down. “Do you need to talk?”

“There's nothing to say.” Putting your head on a pillow, you stare at the ceiling. You feel comfortable around Joyce, she has this mother thing about her. “I just want this to end. Before anyone else gets... Eaten.” The word makes you shiver as it brings the image of his body back. “I wish I wasn't the one to find him. To... See him that way. I don't think I'll ever forget that.”

“Honey, I'm so sorry.” She comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “When... When they found Will's body, it hurt. I knew in my heart it wasn't him, but the very idea of losing my baby was horrible. So I have an idea of how you feel. Losing someone is a pain that doesn't go away. You'll get used to it, but it remains. All we can do is learn to deal with it and honor them by carrying their memories.”

You're crying through her speech, and you can't help but sit up and hug her, crying on her shoulder. “We have to be careful because I can't lose anyone else.” You're not sure if she can even understand what you're saying, but since she nods, you think she did.

“Don't worry, honey. We'll all be alright.” She pulls away, rubbing both your arms. “The kids will be here soon, but feel free to stay here or join us, ok? Do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Offering her a small, sad smile, you watch as she leaves.

You hear when they get here, the chattering starts, and you can understand a few words here and there. They talk about you, and about Billy and about the funeral. But soon enough it falls into the major problem. And that's when you tune out, staring at the ceiling, trying not to make yourself too comfortable in someone else's bed.

The only thing you want now is Billy. You want to go back to the time where there was no Demogorgon, Demowhatever lurking around. At least to you. It's weird to know what really happened in Billy's car accident, how he was almost the host for the Mind Flayer. You're happy it didn't happen, that he's here now. You need to thank Max for that, actually. If it wasn't for her and the others, your Billy wouldn't be here. He could be dead, and you'd never meet him. He'd never shoot glances at you, or drive you home, buy you tacos or punch David's face. Or kiss you, hold you, love you. The thought of a life without Billy in it is absurd. Now, more than ever, after you lost someone so dear, you have this need to be with him. Just to make sure he's here.

Breathing out and closing your eyes, your hand comes to hold the necklace. It makes you feel closer to Billy, and there is a silent promise here, one you hold close to your heart, together with the earring.

Eyes open, you get up of the bed. You don't care if you got days off, you have to see him. Even if it's just for a hug. Leaving the bedroom, you make your way to the living room, which is crowded.

“We wait until it's late at night to make sure the Demodogs are out, sneak inside the tunnels, and spill insane amounts of gasoline all over it. Get the hell out, wait until it's morning, and set the whole thing on fire.” Dustin says, hands in the air and a smile on his face.

He's kidding, right? He can't be suggesting that as if it's the greatest idea of the world. “Are you completely insane?” You ask, making your presence known. Arms crossed, your eyes scan through the party. “You can't possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I agree with (Y/N), this is insane,” Joyce adds, her face making it clear she thinks this idea sucks. “I won't let you do that.”

“But–”

“The point is to kill them without getting ourselves killed. And every single idea you come up with has a hundred different ways to get us killed.” Steve says, both his hand on his hips as he paces around the room. “Who thinks this idea sucks raise your hand.” He's the first to do it, and Joyce, you, and Jonathan do the same.

“Count Billy in.” You say, raising the other hand as well.

“And Hopper,” Joyce states, giving you an approving stare.

“It's six against seven. We're doing it.” Dustin exclaims.

“No.” You basically shout, not caring one bit if you sound bossy. All eyes lay on you as you struggle to keep it together. “We're not doing it and that's final.”

“I–”

“I just lost a friend and I will not let you do something that might just end up in another funeral.” There are tears threatening to fall again, but you hold them back. “So come up with something else.”

The silence is deafening. You know you're breaking down again, even though the tears aren't rolling down. Yet.

“Please. There's gotta be something else.” Lowering your voice and looking down at your feet, you beg. You can't even think about someone else dying. You couldn't bear it.

“I saw this thing at school. Like a robot with remote control.” Lucas starts. “If we could build a bunch of them and attach a hose, we could guide it inside the tunnels and spread the gasoline.”

“Yeah, but there are seven holes. Which means a lot of ground we'd have to cover.” Eleven adds as you make your way to the group, sitting on the couch beside Joyce.

“Let's blow up six of them.” You burst out, crossing your legs. “A hell of a explosion that would take those things days to dig it back. Then there will be only one way in and out. Find a hell of a long hose or just connect a bunch of them and a million gallons of gas. The robots will spread it then we'll just need a match.”

“That's good. It could work.” Nancy says. “But we'll need to chip in to buy all these things.

“Hopper can get some for free I'm sure.”

“We start right now.” Mike stands up and the others follow. “Let's get started.”

The rest of the day is hectic. Lists are made, one of the kids teachers come over to help with what they called a summer project. For fun. And the materials started arriving. You don't really know what to do, so you help Joyce make lunch, keeping up with her small talk. Joyce is easy to be around, and you like to hear her stories about Will and Jonathan. You even manage to show a few smiles every now and then. After everyone is fed, you finally sit on the porch, trying to help as much as you can. The kids are genius, literally building remote control robots from random pieces and the instructions from books. It's amazing. Since you can't really be of much help in this aspect, you join Nancy, separating stuff or doing anything they tell you too.

When the sun is setting, some of them had to go home to gather their stuff. They'll crash here and take the robot construction through the night. By the moment you hear the faint noise of Billy's car, it's just Joyce's kids, Steve and Dustin. Leaving the small pieces of metal you were shaping into tiny little circles, you stand up abruptly.

“Where are you going? These circles aren't going to make themselves.” Dustin complains, raising his hands in the air.

“Billy is back.” There's no need for further explanation, so you tiptoe among the stuff, careful not to step on anything.

“It could be anyone.”

“Dustin, is there any other car in Hawkins that sounds like that?” As you speak, the noise gets louder and Billy's car comes to your sight.

“She knows her boyfriend's car.” Steve jokes as you walk to the yard, smiling when Billy stops the car and comes out.

“Miss me, princess?”

“Obviously.” It's a feeling of pure relief to see him. It feels like it's been so much longer than just some hours, but you feel that you'll have this insane need to be around him for a while. Just to enjoy the fact that you're still alive. You can't help but wonder for long the idea of death will hover over you... Probably forever.

“You ok?” He asks, his hand on your hair as you have your head on his chest.

“I will be.” Remembering the audience, you pull away, standing on your toes to kiss him. “Dustin had a terrible idea but I made him change his mind about it.”

“How did you do that?”

“I yelled.” With no intention of further explanation, you turn at the guys. “I'll be back tomorrow morning, alright? Have fun doing crazy science.” Waving at them, you get into the car.

You would like to stay at Joyce's, keep helping as much as you can, but you feel like you need silence and peace. The kid's laughter and jokes make you feel better, but you know that you also need to let the sadness creep over for a while. Keeping it hidden, disguised, makes no good. So as you dry and brush your hair, waiting for Billy to finish his shower, you cry.

For Monica, for Jason's younger siblings, his mother, his father, uncle, and aunt. For every friend he made since he was born. And for yourself too. Jason was one of the people that you imagined you'd be around for the rest of your life.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by the phone's ring. Rushing to answer it, you find it's Joyce, kindly asking if you can pick Mike up and drive him to her place, and of course, you comply.

“Billy.” You call when you hear him coming out of the bathroom. “Joyce needs us to pick up Mike. Nancy can't stop what she's doing there.”

“Sure. Let's go.”

Being out at night makes you anxious, but you try not to let it show. Eyes on the road, you bounce your leg nervously, tugging on the seat belt. Billy notices, and a hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“We'll be fine. Relax.”

“I'm trying.” Stretching your arm, you touch his neck. “I'm sorry if I can't stop thinking about Jason and what happened.”

“(Y/N), you just lost a friend. My responsibility as your boyfriend is to hold and love you through this process. Don't apologize.”

“I don't want this to be your responsibility, Billy.” When he turns his head to look at you, you run your fingers through his jaw.

He takes a deep breath, pulling over by Mike's house. You were about to get out, but since he doesn't move, neither do you. Billy looks like he's thinking, furrowed eyebrows and distant eyes. “Billy? Come back to Earth.” You decide to ask, taking off the belt and turning your body towards his.

“To have and to hold. For better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He squints his eyes through the words, trying to remember them. It takes a while for you to understand what he means, and when you do, your heart starts drumming in your ears. “To love and cherish till death do us part.”

“Billy...”

“It means I'll stand by your side. Not because I feel like it's my responsibility, but because I love you. And I'm more than happy to take the responsibility of being your–”

“Couldn't you save that up for, I don't know, someday when I'm dressed in white?” The words come out fast, and you're blushing hard, your cheeks burning. “No. You had to do this now. Drive me insane now in your Camaro.” You roll your eyes dramatically when his lips break into a smile, that smug, cocky smile he has when he knows he got to you somehow.

“Be my wife, (Y/N).”

“No.” It's an utter absurd how hard you have to fight not to say the exact opposite. You want to just burst out the word, here and now, because you're so damn sure you want Billy for the rest of your life. “No, baby. We'll graduate, save up money and you'll make a decent proposal.” You hope he can't notice your hands shaking as you step out of the car, almost stumbling on the sidewalk. His words burn through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. “I won't say I'll marry you in the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, in front of Mike's house.”

“Did I just make you nervous?” Billy's arms come to encircle your waist, his deep voice, and breath on your hair making you sigh.

“Shut up, Hargrove.” With the sweet sound of his laughter on your ear, you knock on the front door, trying to push him away before someone comes to answer. “Let go.”

“Are you using my cologne again?” As soon as he asks, you feel his nose softly rubbing your neck, what makes you giggle and try to push him away again, uselessly. “You are.”

It wasn't your intention to let him find out, but he always does. “Well, it was–”

The door is suddenly open, a yellowish light hitting your eyes as you try to stand up straighter. The woman standing there gives a step back as if she just saw a ghost. Her eyes fly from Billy and back at you, then all the way back to Billy. It hits you suddenly as you realize she's Mrs. Wheeler, the woman Billy was going to meet on the day the Mind Flayer almost got him. They haven't met or spoken since that day, and you weren't expecting her to look so... Perplexed. You try to read her expression, to understand what the look in her eyes means.

“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.” You manage to say because Billy clearly won't even try to be polite. You feel his muscles tensing up, as he gets immediately uncomfortable under the woman's stare since she doesn't seem to even try to hide. “Sorry to disturb you. We're here for Mike.”

×

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

[entities-of-posts]

I think I may have just had a run in with The Stranger in my dream, bearing in mind that I almost never remember my dreams fully and I’m not fully knowledgeable about the entities yet.

It started off at a hotel pizzeria, where everyone seamed to think they were from the game RuneScape. Seems innocent enough but everyone there genuinely believed it I think, speaking aloud as if they were reading a typed chat, typos and shorthand included. It was freaky to say the least, plus I recognised that’s what they were doing and believed even though there were no indications they believed they were in RuneScape specifically. It felt a little like I’d accidentally walked into a themed bar or something, or I was on a hidden camera show.

The next part may have been a separate dream entirely, but if so there were no gaps between this and the last one. There wasn’t a transition between the two parts either but that isn’t uncommon for dreams I guess. My dad and I were in a combination Internet cafe and actual cafe. I think my mother and sister may have been there too but they felt.. vague. Like a living Rorschach test. One of my cats was there with us, the one I generally see as “mine”, with the other having stayed at home. This is where I think this part and the pizzeria were connected because I was worried about how it’d been multiple days since we’d been home, and the other cat was probably hungry and thirsty by now. For whatever reason, probably just weird dream logic instead of an entity’s work, I had to get the route home pre-approved online, which is where The Stranger might have come into play if it wasn’t already. The second I started to log on the building was suddenly starting to get full of other people logging on, slowing down my connection and eventually cutting it off entirely. Everyone else in the cafe didn’t look like people either. Not quite vague like my mother and sister, but like they were living abstract painting, getting more abstract the further I was from them. I got the distinct impression they were there specifically to stop me from leaving. The scariest part, for whatever the reason may be, was that my cat was gonna die if I didn’t get home. I knew for sure she’d die if I didn’t leave immediately now, but the people there wanted to “keep me” as it were.

Sadly while I know events happened between that part and this part, so I know they were connected, I only have that very vague feeling of something happening you get when you wake up and just sort of Know your dream but don’t remember it. But I did manage to escape the cafe, albeit soaking wet for some reason and unable or not allowed to take the towel off my head while drying my hair while my dad drove us home. We did get home but it was the house I grew up in, the one we moved out of when I was around 16, made of wood but splintered and moving in the wind as if close to collapse. I got the impression that the state of the house was punishment for leaving, and my cats were nowhere to be found. I retired to the bedroom I had I that house just before it collapsed, impaling me with bits of wood and other building materials. I watched this from the third person, seeing my entirely family apparently forgetting I was there or existed and leaving me to bleed out under the rubble.

Anyway then I woke up sufficiently terrified, feeling like I’d been stabbed, & worried for my cats. My cats are fine. Not really sure if an Entity was responsible for this one but at least it helped giving a statement. I brought your cat some catnip btw

There’s some Spiral, of course, some Stranger as you said, and the end almost feels Buried, or End. A bit mingled, as dreams tend to be, but I certainly can relate to the dread of having accidentally taken insufficient care of your cat :(

Thank you for the catnip, though… I have a feeling giving this to The Detective might turn out a little bloody, and I don’t want Tigerlily to get excited and scratch up the fabric of reality. Though they are both such good kitties and deserve a treat… maybe if the proper precautions are taken, it could work!

[platoniclokiimagines]

i’m going through the stages of grief all over again after having to watch Loki’s death in HD since IW came out on digital. can you please cheer me up by writing something about if loki survived and thanos was defeated so loki and reader go out to celebrate after the craziness?

WC: 1413

TW: none

A/N: I know this was likely meant to be a fix-it for IW, but I thought it would give it a little more ~spice~ if I fixed Endgame instead. Might explore this idea a little more thoroughly in the future, if people seem interested. But I hope you enjoy this!

You’d expected the battle with Thanos and his army to be tough, but you hadn’t expected it to be this much of a bloodbath. You felt like you’d seen one too many of the other Asgardians- or what had the Captain called you all, Avengers?- fall during the fight, and try as you might to remain positive, you were terrified that you were going to be the next one on the chopping block.

You could hear through the earpiece you’d all been given that the gauntlet was currently being passed along in an attempt to get it to some kind of vehicle that could allow people to time-travel, and you were just far enough away from them that it would do you no good to intervene, so you took what brief time you had to regroup and regather your thoughts, leaning heavily against a pile of rocks that kept you out of sight from the battlefield.

You had just about psyched yourself up to get back into the fray when a shimmer of green caught your eye, and you turned your head to watch as it slowly began to expand, like someone was ripping the very fabric of reality right in front of your eyes.

It wasn’t until you saw someone step through that you realized it was a portal, and once that had set in, all you could do was stare dumbly at the person who had walked through.

“……Loki?”

Everyone else had just assumed they had died. Thor had said that they had, and that had been taken as the truth by the rest of the Asgardians, but you’d held out hope for five years, praying to the Norns that Loki was just playing a really long trick, and would show up just in the nick of time.

Right now, it certainly looked like you had been right.

“What, you didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you?” Loki grinned, and there were a million things you wanted to say and ask, but Loki cut you off before you could. “Where’s the fight?”

Right. You were in the middle of something.

Heaving an exhausted sigh, you gestured half-heartedly to the space around you. “You’re looking at it.”

Loki only nodded, and summoned two daggers at their sides. “Well. Shall we get back into it then?”

Finding that you had a bit more energy now, you nodded, and ran after Loki back out into the battle.

Once everything had been said and done, you supposed that you and Loki had come out of this fight luckier than a lot of the others had. Everyone that was left was tattered, and had more cuts and broken bones and wounds than you could count, but you and Loki had somehow managed to come out of everything with only a few scrapes, bruises, and minor cuts between the two of you.

And the ones that hadn’t survived… Well, that was a grief weighing over everyone that had.

You didn’t know the one who had used the stones and perished in the process. You knew of him, and recognized that he had made the ultimate sacrifice, and so you mourned with the others for everything that he had done so that you all could survive, but you still felt a little distanced, like you were looking in on the whole ordeal rather than actively participating, and it wasn’t until you felt a familiar presence at your side that you tore your gaze away from what was happening, looking up at Loki.

“…did you know him?”

Loki’s expression was unreadable as they watched their brother and the rest of the Avengers grieve and mourn together. “…I did. But I was a much different person then.”

You could tell Loki didn’t want to talk about it, and so you didn’t push the subject, only nudged your shoulder against their arm. “…we did it.”

“We did.”

“Do you suppose there’ll be revels?”

“Oh, without a doubt. The entire world will celebrate. We just saved all of humanity. I reckon it won’t end for days.”

“…we should go find one of those medics the others were telling us about. Get patched up and stuff.”

“In a moment.”

You followed Loki’s gaze back to Thor and the others, and for a long moment just watched in silence. You didn’t know much about what had happened the last time Loki had been to earth, but you knew that it wasn’t exactly good. “…you should go talk to them. Your brother, the others. Make amends. You can find me later. When we’re all celebrating.”

Loki nodded, and hesitated for a while longer before steeling themself and heading over to the group, and you watched in silence as Thor ran to them, and hugged them, and began talking to the rest of the group, no doubt singing Loki’s praises and how they had changed so much in so little time, and it made you smile to see Loki relax a little bit.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask them, about where they’d gone, and what they had done, and why they hadn’t come back sooner, but you supposed, for now, it was enough to just know that they were alive, that you all were.

There would be time for catching up later.

Much as Loki had predicted, the celebrations around the world had started almost immediately, once it had been announced that there was no more threat to the world, and that the vanished half of humanity had been returned. The fireworks and parties and celebrations had been going strong for more than a week, and you were certain they’d go on for much longer, and for once, it was nice to not have to worry about anything except how much you’d had to drink in a night.

Over the course of that week, you’d gotten answers, albeit a little cryptic even for them, about where exactly Loki had been for five years. Something about an alliance that oversaw time and those who traveled through it, or the sort. It hadn’t made much sense to you, and mostly you just cared that Loki was back, so you hadn’t pressed for any further clarification.

“You’re supposed to be in there with the rest of us.”

You snapped out of your reminiscing, looking up as Loki came to a stop at your side on the balcony of the fancy hotel everyone was staying at until they could figure out how they were going to rebuild the Compound, and for a while, you both just watched the fireworks in the distance. They hadn’t stopped for as long as the world had been celebrating, and it was new and fun to watch, so you found yourself out there watching them often.

“I can celebrate just as well out here, you know.” You smiled and took the glass of too-strong alcohol that Loki had brought out for you, taking a long sip of it as you both continued to watch the night sky light up.

“…it is weird, isn’t it? Not having something to fight for, or against.”

“I wager that’s how most people spend their lives. Just living. Making friends, going out to dinner with their families and loved ones.” You shrugged a bit, turning back to Loki now.

“Yes, well. We all get to do that now, too.”

You huffed out a skeptical laugh. “For now. There’ll be other threats.”

“There always are, yes. And there always will be.” Loki spoke solemnly, and then in the blink of an eye, grinned again. “But we’re not thinking about that right now, we’re celebrating.”

By now you could tell that Loki was mildly inebriated, certainly a feat with the meager excuse for alcohol Midgardians had, and you couldn’t help but to smile a bit at Loki’s eagerness to get you back in with everyone else.

“Fine. Someone has to stop you from making a fool of yourself, anyway.”

“Hey! I haven’t even started telling embarrassing stories about when Thor and I were kids yet!”

You couldn’t help but to laugh at that, and with an unnecessarily dramatic sigh, you threw back the rest of your drink and stepped away from the balcony railing. “Well, let’s change that.”

Loki grinned, and immediately took you by the hand and started pulling you back into the building, and you smiled softly as you let yourself relax.

Perhaps you deserved some rest now, too.

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 13)

Title: Purple Haze Fills Your Vision (and questions fill your mind)

Summary: Purpled dreams of his past and delves too deep into something he was coded to never find.

!WARNING! mentions of blood, descriptions of blood, implied abuse

Part One

Part Fourteen

Masterlist

_____________

He’d had this nightmare before- he was sure of it. The empty stares, the rising panic. It was all too familiar, but he knew what to do differently this time. He didn’t bother checking on his brothers, he knew there was nothing to be done to save them because they were dead. Karl wasn’t.

Karl looked up like he always did in this recurring nightmare, with shock in his eyes. “How did you do this? You aren’t supposed to-”

“I know I’m not supposed to be able to change time!” Purpled snarled. “What am I?”

Karl just shook his head. “I don’t know, I don’t know, okay? You’re something different-”

The scene changed.

Purpled stood above a portal. There was a sense of yearning in him, reaching for a part of him that didn’t quite exist then. It reached for a part of him that was buried deep inside, and upon finding it burrowed in a place that couldn’t be uncovered yet, grasped to the next best thing, hidden deep in the chests of another dimension. He wasn’t aware of the feeling, but it pulled him to the portal that he knew caused such pain and hurt. The portal called to him, and alone, he wouldn’t have been able to resist it.

The scene changed as he ripped his gaze from the portal to the eyes of another hybrid that it called to.

He was in his cave, the one that he’d built so long ago, before everything. The skull on the outside called to the undead but he found himself alone inside. Just him, the darkness, and the echoes of his footsteps as he let the pitch black comfort him. If he listened, he could hear the sounds of thunder outside, and if he focused, he could see a soft glow coming from… somewhere. He wasn’t sure. 

The scene changed again, this time violent, leaving him with a sick feeling in his stomach.

Purpled stood in his childhood home, watching his past unfold. A littler him stood on the bottom step of a flight of stairs, clutching a large wad of purple fabric that he saw when he looked down. A sweatshirt, given to him by his brother.

His brother, who stood by the door, looking at his little brother. “I’m sorry, Purp, but I’ve gotta go.”

“Why?” was the response, murmured and tearful.

Punz crouched down. “Hey, don’t cry. I’ll be back. It’s just a job, okay? I’ll be back before dad notices I’m gone, and then I’ll come back. You’ll be okay.”

Purpled watched Punz leave through the front door, then could only watch as time sped up, as he grew up, sitting by the door that never opened. Then, all of a sudden, he saw himself get up to open it. He was holding a sword and the innocent look that had been in his eyes was gone. If he focused, he could hear angry yelling and a crash on the other side of the house that covered the creaking of the hinges. 

And, just like that, he was in the Bedwars arena.

He saw himself fighting, learning, watching. He saw himself search for any trace of his brother, just to throw away the paper clipping of a fast-as-a-blur mercenary that terrorized servers. He knew the clues, he knew the signs. He knew his brother.

A lurching feeling twisted in his chest as he was taken to another scene. 

Punz stood, a gold chain around his neck, not a speck of blood on his white sweatshirt. Purpled was staring at him, holding the tears at bay as his hands rested in his purple sweatshirt.

“Purp?”

“Why’d you leave?” He bit out. “What made you leave me alone with dad?”

Punz sighed. “Listen, it’s not personal, I just-”

“Not personal?” He yelled, “I waited everyday for you to get back, and you never did.”

“The job paid well, okay? I was going to find you eventually, I swear.”

“Bullshit.” Purpled spat out. “You like killing people.”

Punz shook his head. “I’m not dealing with this. You’re doing well with yourself, I see the headlines for Bedwars all the time. I gotta dip before this body’s discovered, I’d make yourself scarce.”

And like that, Punz took out a bottle of almost purple liquid and smashed it at his feet, hiding the body and all of himself but his eyes that seemed to glow.

Not a minute later, a man in green that he’d soon be acquainted with ran by. “Hey, kid, you see uh, you see a murder?”

Purpled didn’t bother trying to help his brother. Was there even anything left of him? “He went that way.” Purpled pointed, turning and missing how the masked man tilted his head in response to his broken voice.

His actual self, the one that was dreaming, fell in pain, a gut-wrenching feeling making him cry out as the scene changed again around him. Each change hurt more and more, but the pieces were connecting- where were the last ones? What was the point of all of this?

This time, he was in the memory. He remembered this well, entering the arena feeling confident, everyone warily watching him as he stood at his base for the starting bell. It had even started well, he was winning, until his foot got caught and twisted.

He fell down, gasping as he tried to get back to his bed. He could void and respawn, it’d be fine, he liked the feeling of the wind rustling through his hair as he fell. 

The message pinged that his bed had been destroyed.

His best bet now was to hide until everyone else had fought, but he didn’t make it far with his ankle stinging with every movement. 

He was stabbed in the back, literally, but it wasn’t a normal blade like all of his other losses. Something was different about this one- the wound hurt more, and he wasn’t respawning in the lobby. He coughed, and vaguely heard voices speaking.

“It was a fire aspect sword, do we know if he’s a hybrid? He didn’t have anything listed, but that could be why he’s not healing.”

“Even if he was, we have no clue which type. I was told he was a hybrid, but the person who sent me wouldn’t say-”

He passed out, but when he woke up, the memory was the same. He was in a medical bed, alone. Someone walked into the room, face covered by a red, multi-colored checkered mask. 

“Hello!” He said cheerily. “We’ll be getting out of here soon, and I’ve got a place that you can hang-”

“Who are you?” Purpled asked, “And why are you here? I don’t need a place to stay, thanks.”

“Oh, true.” The man mused. “They did send me to recruit all of the minors, I should probably be a little-”

“Recruit? I’m not interested in a gang, thanks.”

“Oh, no, it’s not a gang. Why don’t we start over? I’m Ponk. There’s a new server and we’d like you to be a part of it.”

Purpled looked at Ponk. He had nothing to lose, maybe this would be the escape from his past that he needed. “What the hell, why not.”

Purpled didn’t need the scene change to know how this ended up. He knew that Ponk was the brother to him that Punz never was. He knew that Ponk had been there when his own blood wasn’t, and he had readily accepted the person that he hoped would always be there. But, Ponk knew how skittish Purpled was, and didn’t search for him when he’d disappeared. Ponk thought it was a choice that he’d made.

The puzzle was almost done, in Purpled’s mind. There were two empty spots, though. A sharp sting in his chest like a wound brought him to his knees, and a voice in his mind seemed to ask if he really wanted to uncover what was coming. Seemed to ask if he really wanted what this digging would bring.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I want to see.”

It hurt, so bad, but maybe not as much as being forced to rewatch the scene in front of him.

Punz stood in front of him, like the day he’d left. This time though, Purpled wasn’t alone. 

“What are you doing here?” Purpled asked. “Why are you here?”

Punz scoffed. “I’ve been here for a while. Why? Can’t handle me around?”

Ponk stepped forward. “Leave him alone.”

“I already have!” Punz yelled. “And it keeps getting worse anyway.”

Purpled couldn’t help but take a step backwards. “What?”

Punz let out a sigh. “Listen, Purpled. You don’t understand what’s going on. There’s a lot that you aren’t aware of-”

“Then help me to understand!”

“We’re always going to be different, Purp.” Punz said coldly, but there was a hint of regret and loss in his voice. “You’ll realize it later, but you’re never going to have a normal life, because there’s a reason we never knew our mother. I had no choice but to make my own path and let you pave yours.” He left after that, leaving nothing but confusion in his wake.

“Ponk? What did he mean?”

But Ponk didn’t have an answer. No one did. Not even Dream, but that might have been because he was already too far gone when Purpled got the courage to approach him.

The pain started up again, this time a burning on his back that made him stagger at the sudden intensity of it. As he felt himself wake up, he was relieved, but he heard the echoes of a voice that wasn’t quite Dream’s that lingered, the person that he was speaking to not visible.

“I’ve never seen their kind before. It sure is a shame you want to hide it from Purpled, but I get it.. If you ban the mob, you gotta ban the hybrid. I have a feeling this is going to bite you later, though. He’s a strong one. He’ll find out eventually.” The voice laughed. “I’m excited to see how this turns out, and I haven’t been excited in a while.”

________________

Purpled lurched awake. He had hoped the pain that he’d felt would fade, but if anything, it’d increased. He clenched his teeth and rolled over onto his stomach.

“Another nightmare?” Sam asked, and Purpled jerked his head up and down in the only response that he could manage. “Purp? You okay?”

“No,” He said, feeling the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. “It all hurts.”

“What, you mean the nightmare was bad? You wanna talk about it?” There went Sam with his father-like worriness.

“No-” He choked. “My body. Hurts.”

Sam frowned. “Oh. I was hoping this would come up a little further down the line, but I guess you really don’t have control over when your hybrid part comes out.”

“My what?” 

“You’re a hybrid.” Sam sighed, moving slowly at first to move Purpled into his lap. “I wish Tommy’d stayed behind today- he’s the one with real experience with growing things.”

“Tubbo-” Purpled started, before getting cut off by a painful gasp.

Sam put a hand in his hair to try to comfort him. “He’s just got horns. You’re growing something… much bigger, I’d say. Of course, I’m not the expert.”

“It hurts like a bitch.” Purpled whimpered, clinging to Sam.

He didn’t hear the stressed laugh that Sam let out because he started to drift back to sleep, but it would be a slumber filled with pain and restless tossing. He wasn’t all the way asleep, but stuck in a hazy in-between that left his mind numb.

In one moment when he was slightly more awake, he could register someone mopping the sweat off of his forehead. “Ponk?” He slurred, because he couldn’t remember where he was. “Ponk, issat you?”

“No,” The voice said. “But he’s on his way. He heard your name and was already packing his bags.”

Oh, yeah. His brain managed. Sam and Ponk are dating.

“No hinky business,” Purpled said, raising a finger that trembled in the air. “This is about me, not you guys.”

“Good to know. Go back to sleep.”

He did. He couldn’t tell how much time was going by, but the pain made him gasp and shudder, so he was woken up periodically. He always fell asleep again from exhaustion or just passed out from pain though, so he wasn’t awake for long. During his snippets of consciousness, he got some words out. They didn’t all make sense, at least not to the people helping him.

“Punz?” Purpled mumbled, reaching out. “Where are you?”

Sam looked over to Ponk, who had arrived a while ago. “Why’s he asking for Punz? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them together.”

“Bad blood.” Ponk shrugged, taking one of Purpled hands. They were on the floor now, since Purpled’s squirming made having him on the couch difficult. “They’re brothers, but all I know is that Punz left home at some point and never came back. I think they were close before it, though. He never talked about it much. I think it hurts him to.”

“They’re brothers?” Sam whispered, then his eyes widened. “Is that why he wasn’t there to say goodbye to Tubbo and Tommy before they went to find Dream? Because he didn’t want to see Punz? Is their relationship that bad?”

Ponk shrugged again. “He never talked to me about it. I think he latched to me, instead, but I would like to see them make up. I just don’t know if it’s possible.”

“Punz?” Purpled’s eyes were glazed over. “I want Punz.”

“No you don’t,” Pink sighed. “You mentioned-”

“I want Punz,” Purpled sobbed. “It hurts so much.”

“Wait-” Sam said, “Are they biological brothers?”

“As far as I know. Does that make a difference?”

“He might know what kind of hybrid they are. It’d make this easier. And, y’know, I’ll ask if he can swing around to say hi. Maybe they’re both hurt but don’t want to admit it.”

Ponk smiled at Sam. “Look at you, you’re such a sweetheart. Helping your sons repair their relationships. DILF material, if you ask me.” He joked.

Sam only darted out of the room with a bright blush dusting his face.

________

Punz had been having an okay day. It was bright outside, so he’d stayed indoors. Sure, it was lonely, but he managed. He’d just barely let his thoughts slip to better times when his communicator rang. Someone was calling him. Who even still remembered he existed? He’d thought it’d been long enough all on his lonesome to be forgotten. Even by his brother, maybe.

No, he sighed. I lost the privilege of calling him my brother years ago. He hates you.

He picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Punz!” It was Awesamdude. What did he want? “I was just wondering-”

“I’m not taking jobs anymore,” Punz said, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for calling.”

“Wait! I just wanted to ask you some questions about you and Purpled, since you’re his brother.”

Punz froze. “Who told you that we were brothers?”

“Ponk did, but that’s not important. Purpled’s-”

“Is he okay?” Punz asked, ignoring how his heart rose into his throat. He didn’t know what would happen if Purpled wasn’t.

“Listen, it’s, he’ll be okay, but-”

Punz squinted into nothing. “I’ll be right there. Drop the coords.”

He hung up before Sam could say he’d lost the right to see Purpled, like he probably would have. He needed to make sure that Purpled was okay, even if it caused a respawn back to his house. Whatever happened would be deserved, anyway.

It wouldn’t take him long to get there, he was naturally fast, so he wasn’t concerned with time. He flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt to shield his face from the unyielding sun and sighed. He’d have to face his past eventually, why not now?

____________

The next time Purpled woke up, the pain had doubled. He could feel the stabbing sensation whenever he moved at all, but this time, there was a comforting weight keeping him off of the floor.

He already knew who it was. He’d been sick before, and there was only one person who did this. “Punz?” God, his voice sounded so broken. So weak. Vulnerable. Everything he’d trained himself to never show.

“Yeah, Purp. I’m here.”

“You can’t be.” Purpled murmured, still not completely sure he was awake. “You hate me.”

“No,” Came the hushed response. “God, no. I could never hate you.”

Purpled scrunched up his face. “But you left.”

“I wanted a better future for us.” It seemed like that was it, but then more words tumbled. “It was only supposed to be short jobs so that I could go back to you until I had enough to buy our way onto a server that’d take us.” The voice cracked, filled with emotion, “You didn’t deserve to be alone with dad. You didn’t deserve any of the bad things that’ve happened to you. Sam told me about the underground arena- God, Purpled. I’m a horrible brother. I was stressed, and needed more money, and then I had admins on my tail that I couldn’t lead to you… I’m an awful person.”

“A bitch, yeah,” Purpled sighed, sinking closer to sleep, or at least what he thought was sleep. The pain made it hard to tell. “But not a bad person. You tried your best.”

“It wasn’t enough.” Punz sniffled. “And now you’re here, and I never even bothered to mention to you before that we were hybrids. I just… I got so little features I figured you would, too.”

“You did tell me I was a hybrid, but not directly. When we first met here, remember?”

It was quiet as Punz pondered on it. “How do you remember that?”

“I’ve had lots of time to think.” Purpled mused, before hissing as another wave of pain rolled over him. “I’ve been alone a lot.”

“Me too.” Punz shifted uneasily. “I don’t like being alone.”

“Me either. It sucks.” Purpled said, and he almost continued before the pain came back worse than ever. “Punz? What’s happening? Why’s it hurt so much?”

“You’re growing wings, Purp.”

_____________

The actual emergence of the wings wasn’t as painful as Purpled had thought it would be. It hurt, yeah, but it was over pretty quickly, unlike before when they were stretching through his skin. He could tell there was a lot of blood, too, but not by looking. He made sure not to look. He could feel the warmness of the liquid as it spilled down his back, and he tried his hardest to stay awake, but the appeal of sleep pulled him back in.

He was woken up by Tommy’s voice. “Woah, those’re fuckin’ sick!”

Nothing could have convinced him to lift his head up. He was too tired. He’d just slept ages, he thought, but it wasn’t enough. “What?” He mumbled. “You’re too loud.” Purpled managed to turn his head a little, though, so as to look at who was speaking to him.

Tommy pulled a face. “Ugh, you look sick. And not in a good way. Your wings look epic, though.”

______________

Purpled didn’t find out what Tommy had meant until the afternoon, when the three men who’d been looking after him said he could get up. He went to the bathroom to look in the mirror, because he reasoned that it wasn’t fair that everyone got to see them and not him. They were his wings, for crying out loud.

“Fuck,” He muttered. “They do look sick.”

The wings were a weird material that he couldn’t quite place. They looked almost like a bat’s, structure wise, but the actual material looked more delicate. More fragile. It was cool to the touch, and soft, but not feathery. 

He moved them as much as he could in the relatively small bathroom, and peered at his reflection.

His face was a little more sunken than usual. Not so noticeably, but if you looked close enough, you could see hints of purple bags under his eyes. Was his skin a little more grey than it had been? He leaned in towards the glass to look again. 

What was wrong with his eyes? They didn’t look super different, but- he turned off the lights and stayed in the dark for a moment, then turned them back on. Yup. His eyes were glowing. He had wings, he looked like he constantly had one foot in the grave, and his eyes glowed. What was he?

He meandered back out to where everyone was waiting in the living room. “Well?” He asked, spinning around and looking at Punz.

“Well, what?”

“What are we? My eyes are all glowy, and they weren’t yesterday, so clearly something’s up.”

Punz laughed uneasily. “I am… not sure. I’m pretty sure it’s a mob that Dream banned when he made the server. This is the only server I’ve been on, though, so don’t quote me on that. I guess I just never bothered to find out.”

Tommy looked up from the other side of the room, where he sat with Fundy, who was preening his wings. “As reluctant as I am to say it, Phil might know. He’s got his hardcore worlds that he used to always escape to. Sometimes still does.”

“So all the families are getting past issues, huh?” Purpled mused, wandering into the kitchen because fuck, he was hungry.

Tommy squawked. Almost literally. “We don’t have issues, we just… aren’t on the best of terms.”

Purpled laughed. “Yeah, your family hasn’t got any trauma. Shall we expect a christmas card this year?” His laughing turned into a screech as he saw a cat on the counter. “Get that thing out of here!”

Ranboo popped his head in. “What, the cat? I just brought her in. She was hungry. You’re usually fine with the strays I bring in.”

He frantically shook his head as he sped back to the living room to huddle next to Pu- his brother. “Not today. Not cats.”

“So, that’s another trait that you got and I didn’t.” Punz grinned. “I’m fine with cats.”

“Dogs are so much better though,” Purpled argued. “What’s odd about you, then?”

Punz considered that for a moment. “Well, if I’m in the sun too much I get a headache. My eyes glow, too, and I’m real fast.”

“Like the flash?” Tommy asked, and Punz shrugged.

“Oh, I remember that your eyes still show when you splash an invis pot.” Purpled mentioned, mind going back to the memory- dream- flashback? thing he’d had before his wings started growing in. 

“Aw, wait,” Tommy complained. “Your wings can’t be preened. They just sit there looking badass and mine need all this care.”

“At least you don’t look like you need a week of sleep all the time,” Purpled shot back, and it was silent after that. 

No one expected anything to happen, no one expected the night would linger as Purpled gazed out of the window and into the stars as the twinkled their approval. Certainly, then, no one expected a harsh banging at the door as they got ready for bed.

Sam got up slowly, holding his sword loosely as he walked towards the door. The knocking got more desperate, so he turned the handle.

No one expected Technoblade to be the one outside.

“Techno?” Sam asked, gripping his sword a little more.

“Please,” Techno panted, “You have to help him. We were too far from our home, this was the closest place, please,”

It was then that Sam noticed Phil, leaning on Techno. It was then that Sam looked closer and realized that Techno hadn’t gotten a new red cloak. His old one was just soaked with Phil’s blood.

“Geez,” Sam hissed, stepping aside to let Techno in. He wasn’t cruel enough to deny the men a place to stay, but there was a small corner of his mind that spoke of everything that could go wrong. “Come on in, I’ll… Well, I’ll do my best.”

Sam had to help hold Phil up, because he could tell that Techno was near ready to collapse. In fact, he did, as soon as the weight of his oldest friend had been removed from his shoulders.

He had no choice but to leave Techno on the ground as he turned his attention to Phil, whose chest rose so slightly after each breath that he feared Techno was too late.

It was a long night, with no sleep, but those sorts of nights were no stranger to Sam. He hadn’t slept the previous night, either. It was probably an issue, but he kept dreaming of his past and his mistakes, so it was better to stay awake.

Had he slept the night before that? Sam wasn’t sure.

The night was still dark as Sam hovered over his patient. He had been able to stop a bit ago, but he still bit his lip. If Phil died in his care, Techno would kill him. Maybe his boys, too. That was something he needed to avoid at all cost.

Sam was about to tackle the massive feat of getting Techno into a bed of his own when there was a soft knock on the door. When he opened it, he looked down to see Purpled.

“You should be asleep,” He scolded softly. “You had a big day today.”

Purpled glared at him and leaned against his side. “I can’t. You’re up.”

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Sam smiled, “Go to bed.”

“No,” Purpled mumbled. “I can’t. I can’t fall asleep while you’re awake. I don’t know why, but I can tell you’re awake and I can’t fall asleep.”

Sam frowned. “It might be a hybrid thing. Phil’s here, so he can answer once he’s awake. I’ll be up for a while longer, but if you want to help, you can.”

And that, my friends, is how a seven foot tall creeper and a six foot tall winged guy tried to lift a large piglin hybrid off of the floor as if their limbs weren’t like sticks. It was comical, but the only one who could have witnessed it had been bleeding out a few hours ago.

Purpled managed to get Sam asleep in one of the other beds before curling up next to him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t fall asleep while others were up, but he knew it’d be tough. They all struggled with nightmares, even him, so he figured that many nights would be spent restless.

The next morning, Techno was the one that woke Sam and Purpled up. 

“Hello?” Sam asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi,” Techno responded. “Is Phil gonna be okay?”

For a second, Sam had forgotten the two new guests in his house. “Oh,” he mumbled, and let his head fall back onto the pillow. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. Are you alright, though?”

Techno scoffed. “Of course I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked again, raising an eyebrow. “You collapsed on the floor as soon as Phil-”

“Okay, fine.” He relented. “I haven’t been great recently.”

“...Why?” Purpled asked, looking at Techno the way a little kid might look at Santa. Sam realized, Purpled played Bedwars, he’d probably grown up on stories of the piglin hybrid. This was probably exciting, even if his opinion on Techno had been clouded by Tommy and Ranboo.

“Been feeling a little guilty, is all. It’s nothing.” Techno said, but Sam could see the sorrow in his eyes.

“Guilty about what?”

“Everything,” Techno answered simply. “What is there to not be guilty about?”

Purpled squinted at him. “You know, if you apologized, I’m sure they’d accept it. They miss you, even if they don’t want to admit it.”

“You don’t get it,” Techno sighed, sitting back down on the bed he had slept in. “I need to keep my distance.”

“Why?” Sam interrupted, getting up to check on Phil and the rest of his boys.

“Because I meant what I said back then. I meant it all, and there’s no way to apologise for something I never felt sorry for.”

“But you do now, don’t you?” Purpled asked, staring. He could tell that his eyes were a little unnerving, but he let them stay that way. “Right?”

“Of course I do. Phil and I spent days talking about what we did, why it was wrong, and eventually, it just kind of… it just hit us, I guess, how many lives we’d ruined.” Techno looked at Phil. “He’s lived so long, he doesn’t register it anymore, and the voices don’t care enough to stop me. It’s so easy to lose control, but I don’t want to, anymore.” Techno put his face into his hands as if to hide how vulnerable he was being to someone much younger than himself. “I just want the family we used to be.”

“You’re never going to get there.” Purpled said, and it hurt him to, but it was the truth. “You can’t just escape the past, but you can make a better future.”

“And what would you have me do?” Techno shook his head. “I’m pretty sure you can’t help me, kid.”

“I can, if you’d listen to me. I think you should apologise to Tommy and Ranboo. They’re hurt, and the first step to repairing your relationship is to acknowledge what you did. Then, I don’t know, maybe you could move closer, if it goes well.”

Techno’s voice was muffled. “And what if it doesn’t?”

“Then you live with the consequences of your actions,” Purpled shrugged, “but they get closure and you know that there was nothing else you could do.”

Sam had left a while ago, leaving the pair to their silence. Punz came in a bit later to find Purpled, and paused when he saw Techno.

“Relax,” Techno grumbled. “He’s actually been pretty helpful. I’m not gonna hurt him.”

“You better not,” Punz snapped, but stopped when Purpled gave him a look.

Purpled mentioned the ‘knowing when people are awake’ bit to Punz, who hummed, and sat down. The younger of the two brothers was deep in his thought, before something struck him. “Hey, Technoblade, do you have something in your inventory that you’re hiding?”

Punz frowned. “Hey, you’re right. I feel a little… pull, almost.”

“I’ve got something,” Techno said warily, “but Ranboo wasn’t a fan of it last time, so I took it off before I got here.” He took out a bundle of silky material that almost resembled the wings that sat on Purpled’s back under his sweatshirt.

“What is it?” He asked, leaning forward a little to look at it.

“Elytra.” Came another voice. Phil’s eyes were still heavy with sleep, but he tried to sit up.

“Take it easy, Phil. You’re still recovering.”

Phil chuckled. “It takes more than that to kill me, Techno, I’m fine. Anyway, those are Elytra. You guys are hybrids, aren’t you?”

“How do you know?” Purpled wondered, and he didn’t have to wait long for an answer. 

“You hold yourself differently, like I do.” Phil said simply, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb. “Wings are heavy, and affect posture even when you’ve gotten used to them.” After a moment, he shrugged. “Well? Are we going to see them? I assume you don’t know what you are if you’re part of a mob that has something to do with elytra.”

Purpled took off his sweatshirt, revealing another purple shirt that had a hole cut in the back. His wings unfurled, and he relaxed as they stretched.

“Hm,” Phil mumbled. “And do you have any other characteristics?”

Between the two brothers, they had quite a list, and by the end of it, Phil was just nodding along. 

“So?” Punz asked. “What are we?”

Phil looked into Purpled’s eyes, which were glowing slightly more, surrounded by dark circles and a hopeless look. He knew that the younger man had been through more than he deserved, and if this was the start of being better, than he’d take it. 

“Well, as I see it, the wings leave two options, but the list leaves only one possibility. The simplest reason that I can explain is that Elytra are made of, or at least repaired by, a material called phantom membrane, which you get from-”

“Phantoms.” Purpled breathed, and suddenly, everything clicked.

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

I See You Clearly Now

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 0, babeyy. Complicated human relationships, maybe.

Word Count: 5.5k, once again, what the absolute fuck, who am I

Summary: An impromptu all nighter and a very domestic day with Sam who is- he’s a crush, right? Right?

A/N: This was basically me working through my emotions for a person in my life. I don’t-

Also, this was half because of an anonymous request I got the other day that wrote “please some sam winchester x reader but maybe an au with no creepy scary things” Here you go, hon. I’d argue complicated feelings are scarier than monsters, but whatever lights your candle :)

It’s four in the morning and she doesn’t particularly know when the decision was made to ignore the black night sky or the time, or how both Madison and her mutually agreed to it, but sleep is not close in the horizon. College life is exhausting, but this week was uneventful and slow, unmoving to the point of boredom. The beers in her fridge were staring angrily back at her, and her contacts seemed to anticipate her texts. Madison was the first choice, she hadn’t seen her in a while.

And where I go / Singing song of your affection / With rhymes to your perfection / Of you

I see you clearly now / I hold you dearly now / The sun is in my eyes (x)

Meeting arranged, hugs in hello and rosy cheeks, because her apartment is always warm, beers cracked open and drunk, and now Madison is on one of her white, comfortable lounge chairs, angrily ranting about Steve Rogers and Marvel. It’s that hour of the early morning when everything feels a bit gooey and intangible, stretched and fabricated, and there’s nowhere she’d rather be, content in defending a character she loves, warm, belly full of light alcohol and midnight-made crepes. Her cat moves loosely in the room, pointedly ignoring both humans, and Y/n’s cozy and happy to see the wild motions of her friend’s hands as she yells- the mild worry in the back of her head that she’ll find a note with a noise complaint taped on her door the next morning.

For all she cares, nothing could make this any better.

The night continues, laughter over Youtube videos and reality competition failures, repeated funny clips and belly-holding, more hurting of the cheeks from the laughter, more snacks, and she’s forgotten what that feels like in her never ending, break-neck-paced everyday life.

Time passes full of smiles and even more green cans of beer. Pyjamas are worn, sleeping bags are stretched on the floor over the fluffy grey rug, her cat seemingly having found a new enemy in the whipping of the sheets in the air. They laugh at her playing with them, until she settles on her little spot over her soft blanket. The girls stretch in their makeshift beds and they talk, texts are shot to other friends, also awake, selfies full of grins and-

“Sam says hello,” is all Madison has to say for Y/n to suddenly feel his absence in the room.

Sam. Of course.

“Gimme your phone.” Tipsy voice message with off-key singing sent. More happy smiles. A reply, a voice message of his own- “I’m glad you two are having fun. Where are you guys?”.

Y/n’s place, the reply is sent.

“Should I tell him to come by?” And Y/n has to hold her heart in steel hands to force it not to jump out of her chest and straight into her throat. Somehow, Sam always shows up when Madison calls, she thinks, a bitter taste in her mouth. Jealousy. Bottom lip bitten.

“Of course, if he wants to.” She hates to admit she’s excited to see him. Hates it, because she hasn’t talked to him in five months- not properly anyways- and the idea that Madison somehow is always in contact with him makes the familiar knife twist. The two had dated, sure, they’re friends now, a chemistry shared between them that’s inexplicable. It makes her wonder how two people can be so familiar with each other, how they can always be so fucking happy, bouncing off of each other, the sparks fly, people wonder why they broke up (Madison fell in love with someone else. Y/n doesn’t know how Sam reacted.)

Madison and her are friends, sure, but it seems everyone from that side of her friendships is close, but not enough to touch, so Madison never talked about it to her. Sam didn’t either. In fact Sam never even mentioned they’re dating. Sam never ever talks about his relationships. Not to her. He once told her, in that one phone call that lasted four hours until 6 in the morning, the one she can’t seem to forget, that he thinks his love life is nobody’s business. He’s vulnerable with it. Doesn’t share it ever with pretty much anyone (he’d share it with Madison, she thinks bitterly.) Sam, additionally, rarely answers her texts.

They’re in this weird limbo situation. She’d confessed her affection about a year ago, New Year’s eve and festive spirits, influenced by champagne and encouraging friends, and she’d received an “I wondered about us too, but I’m honestly in a weird place, unsure. I really enjoy your company, though, I think you’re really cool and I am very happy with how we are now. Friends.” No dice. She took it in stride. She’s fine with it. No really, she is. Over it.

Then Madison hooked up with him. That one hurt.

They’d talked about it- with Madison that is- because they’re friends, Madison had also been jealous -before Y/n’s confession, when Sam seemed sorta into her and things were going well- and had urged her to go for it. Y/n had shared the sentiment (“If you two end up doing anything, I’m fine with it, it’s really none of my business. You’ve been his friend for longer than I have.”) and she had really meant it. But then Sam didn’t want her, and he ran off in the sunset with Madison for a grand total of three months, and rotten feelings were there in every other step Y/n took.

Now though, she’s fine. Sam has a different pace than her, she knows it now, has come to terms with it. He’s such a gentle, loving creature, so caring and passionate and smart and kind, with those wonderful eyes and his soft hair and the scent that makes her weak in the knees. She’ll have him in her life if that means a single four hour phone call every six months and loose texts here and there- sent by her of course, because he rarely ever texts first for some infuriating reason, and she panics he’s gonna forget her. Other than that, she’s come to terms with the fact that they’ll always be distant friends, that she’ll admire him from afar and he’ll maybe think about her once a month.

He always seems so happy to see her, though. He’s so fucking difficult to decipher.

“He’s on his way.” Brought back to the present by Madison’s statement, Y/n sulks back in her seat, a small, excited smile crossing her features. She’s happy to see him. She missed him.

He’s making his way through the other side of town, though. He’ll be here in two hours just to see them, and her heart flutters.

Till then, Madison lays in her sleeping bag turns out the lights, Y/n’s cat stretches sleepily, and Y/n doesn’t fall asleep, anxious she won’t hear him ring her bell, won’t hear her phone or Madison’s at his call. She’s only slightly desperate.

Time has slipped to six in the morning. Y/n’s eyes are wide open, her head woozy from the fatigue and the alcohol, but, when the rug vibrates with the ring of Madison’s phone, she jumps. She jumps, and so does her heart, skips a beat, because he’s here and she hasn’t seen him since the summer and she just wants to hug him hello.

“Pst! Madison.” With a slap of her hand over her phone, Madison, in a lump on the floor, pulls the phone and balances it on the cut of her cheekbone, speaker over her ear, while her hand slumps back under the sleeping bag. Nelly- Y/n’s cat- blinks lazily, spooked by the sound of the phone call, but ultimately, not giving it much attention.

“Hm? Yeah. Mkay,” sleepy, mumbled words muttered into the phone. At least someone caught some shut-eye between them. “Bring some beers.” A small chuckle, a shake of her shoulders. “Oh yah.” Another laugh. “Hmph, buzzkill.”

Y/n is turning on a small light, just until the sun rises properly up the sky, because everything is currently a little dark still.

“Atta boy. We’re waiting for you.” Another short laugh. Madison hangs up  turns on her back, and her phone falls off her face as she stretches, smiles, arms slumping over her chest. She doesn’t offer much information about the phone call. Not ten minutes later, the doorbell rings.

Y/n stumbles, sheets tangling on her legs, nearly tripping, to buzz him in.

He walks up the stairs, and she sees his head rise over the edge of the top step, a crooked smile on his pretty lips and she smiles back brightly. Arms raised over his head, he shows a plastic bag, clinking glass inside, and he whoops slightly. Y/n grins, throwing a victorious fist in the air.

“The feast continues!” And Sam laughs, toothy and bright as the sun. Y/n attacks him with a hug.

Warm arms stretch around her, hold her close, warm and tight, and he still smells heavenly, like he showered before he left his house. He smells like freshly cleaned clothes and vanilla scented body wash, like the seat of his car, deodorant and a deep, musky smell she can’t quite place.

My God, she’s missed him.

Madison is still on the floor of Y/n’s bedroom, mumbling her hello and burrowing a little in her sheets. Sam kneels down and hugs her, and she hugs back. “Nice to see you, dick”

“Runt,” he replies with a nod, as if he tips off his hat to her. Carefully, Sam also kneels next to Nelly, scritches under her little chin and whispers his soft greeting, to which the cat responds with a low purr and the bending of her head to give him a little more room. Sam smiles, and Y/n can feel her eyes being shaped into comically large hearts.

“M’God,” Madison groans. “I wanna stay awake but ugh.” Y/n smiles gently.

“Go back to bed. I have an appointment with my therapist in four hours though.” Madison nods numbly.

“Wake me up in three and a half, I’ll leave.” Y/n and Sam share a look and the former shrugs.

“Okay.”

Madison shifts, puts her headphones on and shuts her heavy eyelids, pretty much instantly falling asleep. Y/n is running on battery saver mode, enhanced by the incredible amount of adrenaline Sam’s presence seems to bring.

She nods for him to follow her and grabs her laptop, dumping herself on her living room couch, Sam closing the bedroom door behind himself and following her lead. He deposits most of the beers in the fridge and keeps two, which he opens. Y/n watches his ease in her kitchen, even though he’s never been here before and her heart wiggles in content.

He sits next to her on the couch, keeping a barely there distance between them, as she pushes the screen open. Despite all the feelings that have manifested in her chest over the relatively short time she’s known him, Sam and her really hit it off since day one. She met him during a surprise party thrown for Madison. Sam brought the cake, Y/n the candles and the lighter, and other friends brought alcohol, plastic plates that were never opened and cutlery.

The whole group had waited under Madison’s building, singing a very cheerful happy birthday, loudly enough for their voices to grow hoarse, and for Madison’s eyes to roll back into her skull with a sheepish smile. They had walked to a park, sat down and feasted on the cake straight from the pastry box, yet Sam was talking with Y/n on the swings a little ways to the right, away from the cheerful company, talking about fond childhood memories, about his brother, about their favourite movies. Y/n felt it, felt her heart drooping low, the familiar feeling of wanting to impress someone, to be liked by them. Even then, under whatever stars could be seen in their city, she knew he was gonna be trouble.

Beer bottle passed, and she clinks hers on his cheekily, receiving a tip of his head and a half-smile in response. Decided sips. Bottles held against bent knees as they both fold them like pretzels. Small talk about college, about recent misadventures and drunken phone calls, and soon she gets the urge to fill their time with something.

“Movie?” she asks, and Sam just seems on board.

“What do you have?”

And he ducks close to her and checks out the titles. “Do you wanna watch Hamilton? I’ve heard it’s really good.”

“YES, Sam,” enthusiastic and loud. Sam grins. They settle back on the couch.

Fifteen minutes into the play, Y/n doesn’t even hesitate, doesn’t ask and doesn’t preface by saying anything. With all the naturalism that their relationship has, all the affection she knows Sam has to give, she scooches closer to him and leans her head on his shoulder, hugs his arm to her chest, and he leans into her comfortably. “This okay?” The answer she looks for comes in the form of him leaning his head down on top of hers gently.

They watch two thirds of the play before they both get increasingly tired, since it’s a three hour performance. Their brains are kinda mushed, especially because of the lack of sleep, but they happily gush about how well made it is and Sam spews facts left and right about the price of the tickets, the actors and how the British royal family has gone to see it in-person.

“God, I wish I had the money to go up to NYC and watch it myself. I’ve never been to Broadway.” She sighs under his arm, which is now placed around her shoulders. Sam nods in agreement.

“Yeah, that must be so amazing to see in person.”

Bedroom door creaking open, Sam and Y/n separate from each other slowly as they watch Madison trudge to the living room like a phantom, a hand on her lower back.

“My God, Y/n, your floor is not hospitable at all.”

“Awh, I’m sorry.” Sam laughs next to her. “I don’t know why you didn’t move to the bed, though.” Madison glares, facepalms with a wince -the movement seems to rattle the spot that’s sore somehow- and shakes her head. “I didn’t- it- it didn’t cross my mind.”

Deep chuckles in amusement all around. Madison picks her stuff up. Y/n makes all of them some coffee, which they all quietly sip in the diminishing silence of the city waking up just outside their window.

The time for Y/n’s appointment approaches rapidly, and Madison waves goodbye, kisses both people on their cheeks and drives herself home. Y/n isn’t sure if Sam will stick around, so she checks the time awkwardly. She’d feel terrible to let him make his way back to other side of town just for these wimpy three hours wasted on tiredly catching up and watching a movie.

“Listen,” she says, and Sam’s attention is drawn from his coffee cup. “I’m gonna go to my bedroom, have my appointment, because we do it over Zoom anyway. You hang around, chill, and I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Alright,” Sam agrees gently. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

*

A painful, soul-straining hour later, wiping dry tear stains off her cheeks, Y/n makes her way to the living room, half forgetting Sam is even there. And boy if he’s there.

He’s stretched on her couch, legs barely fitting as he leans on the arm rest, ankles crossed, and a book he’s picked up from her bookshelf in his hands, while Nelly sleeps peacefully in his lap, finding comfort in his warmth. He hasn’t made an intense amount of progress, probably 50 or 60 pages in, but he seems invested, and for the seconds it takes him to notice her, Y/n admires him a little. Under the morning light through her thin, sheer curtains, rays are angled perfectly to make his cheekbones all the sharper, he, comfortable enough to relax in her worn-in couch. He looks so at home, and after such an emotionally draining hour, it’s so good to see someone who’s gentle, someone so familiar, waiting for her in her personal space, with her cat, as if he belongs there. It makes her heart do all sorts of stunts.

It seems he notices her from the corner of his eye though, and he puts the book down.

“Hey,” he tells her softly. “Are you good?”

“Uh,” she thinks for a second, pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. I’m okay.” An offered smile, small and soft.

“Alright,” as if saying I’m choosing to believe you. “Have you read this yet?” He holds up a bright orange book, a small thing titled the Alchemist by Paolo Coelho. An offered change of subject. She smiles.

“Yeah, I have.” He folds his legs with a soft apology to Nelly who jumps off disgruntled, and Y/n takes it as a sign to sit on the couch next to him. His feet rest against her thighs, knees bent still.

“It’s so…” He sighs, struggles to find the words. “I mean, it’s not something I’d usually go for. It kind of feels childish and simple, but it’s so beautiful.” He seems slightly confused, surprised to find something he thought may be silly to be actually really good.

“I know right? It feels really simplistic, but some of the stuff it says is so eye-opening.”

“Listen to this,” he says and sits a little straighter, fixing the pillow on his back a little. “We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.”

It’s like he chose the quote specifically for her, for this particular moment. A look is thrown his way, and he smiles crookedly. “I, uhm…” he rubs the back of his neck. “I just heard you crying, is all.” A nervous shrug. Y/n feels exhausted, drained, but in that little smile, that warmth, she feels like tearing up all over again at how fucking sweet he is. She pushes at his legs and reaches out to him for a hug, which he welcomes. She sighs.

“Thank you, Sam.”

                                                          ****

Eventually, they get up. They move to the kitchen and make grilled cheese sandwiches and tea, and Sam leans against her counter as he watches her take out plates from her cupboards, Nelly prancing around with distant meows for attention. Y/n picks large mugs, puts honey in hers and serves their half breakfast on the kitchen island. They eat under light conversation about dogs in social media and pets, and Sam sorta looks like he’s always been there, like this is the life they’ve always lived.

Hot mugs cupped in thick sleeve-covered hands. Bodies curling up on different ends of a couch. Comfortable conversation continues. Topic shifted to something more serious, and Sam tells her things, talks about how he’s grown mentally, how he understands himself a little better and how he wants to try therapy. She’s happy to see him like this, being -if only slightly- more open about himself, about how he is, not closing himself up, not fooling himself into believing he can shoulder the world alone. Y/n gives him her therapist’s phone number, tells him she’s proud of him and shares her own stories. She ruffles his hair and smiles affectionately, and Sam thanks her. Their mugs empty. Her heart grows fuller.

While moving back to the bedroom, Sam kneels next to Nelly. He offers her his hand, lets her sniff it, scritches the top of her soft little forehead, and Nelly pulls away, sniffing, wagging her tail in short annoyance. “Is that not okay? Alright, I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers to her gently, watches her lick his fingers for a second before settling back in her cat bed and watching him wearily. Sam gets the message and he pulls away, and Y/n’s never, ever seen anyone interact with her cat this way. Respectful and kind (and if that ain’t Sam, alright) and her heart lurches a bit. Of course Sam, practically the perfect guy, would test her cat’s boundaries as if she’s a human, and then never push them again. She sighs.

They end up on her bed. Sat next to each other. Laptop in front of her, heavy conversation discarded, set down for now, and she searches for her favourite stand-up comedians to show him, because she knows his sense of humour and he’s gonna love them, she’s sure. Yet, as she’s scrolling, Sam does the unspeakable, and slides behind her, one leg either side of her, arms going around her.

“ ‘M sorry, I needed a hug,” he tells her, and she curls her own arms over his, leaning back against him.

“Anytime,” she promises and means every syllable. “You can stay like that if you want,” she tells him as well, and feels his chin on her shoulder as he nods, a huffed out breath softly knocking on the bare skin of her neck. She sighs into him. Gets comfortable, pulls the laptop on her lap -can you see well?- and lets herself be entertained, relishing Sam’s laughter against her back. She smiles, because  this finally feels good. She doesn’t yearn, doesn’t look for anything more. She’s ultimately incredibly happy with where they are, with all of this warm affection. There’s no butterflies, just comfort, just love and care and tired laughter that fills her mouth with honey. The sun is in her eyes.

Not ten minutes later he shifts, stretches his legs and pulls her more comfortably against him. With gentle fingers, he pushes two strands of hair behind her ear, to the side, touch so soft she barely feels it, repositions his chin on her shoulder and breathes out calmly and Y/n shivers. He holds her securely and she, well, she dares dream, dares feel what this would be like in a different context, and while there’s a little yearning this time, to remember what it’s like to want someone and to be wanted, to know what it’s like to be Sam’s, what it’s like to be held with utter security, knowledge that you’ll never be let go of, it’s not overpowering. She feels its presence, but it feels more like an old friend than a menace. She’s content. Finally. The opposing feelings seem to tame each other.

Something close to an hour passes. They make food, some creamy pasta just to hold them over until dinner. He stirs the pot while she shows him a funny video on her phone. They eat in comfortable silence, and Y/n feels the urge to tangle her legs with his under the table, but she doesn’t, terrified she’ll push him away, ruin this bubble of comfort and naturalism by taking things a step too far. What is too far, she wonders. She’ll let him take the lead, if that means he’ll continue being this physically close to her.

Sam washes the dishes. Y/n pecks his cheek in thanks. His smile is radiant.

They stretch next to each other on her bed, scroll through their texts, send silly pictures to mutual friends. The mistake she makes is when she grabs his phone and takes a really, and she means really, ugly picture. A zillion chins, pinched eyebrows, curved lips and tongue out, hands his phone back and contemplates the consequences.

“Gimme that back, you shouldn’t have that,” decided and regretful. Sam and his noodle, twelve feet long limbs hold the phone as far from her as possible and Y/n growls and laughs, stretches, tries to grab it off him. “Sam!”

“You really think I’m gonna pass this up?” he scoffs with a grin, and she yells his name, accusatory and playful.

“Give it BACK, my face is in there! Privacy infringement!” She yells. “You should know, you’re a lawyer!”

“But you willingly saved the picture in a phone that’s not yours!” Arms stretched high, laughter booming and loud, and she scrambles.

“Your word against mine!”

“You can be seen holding the phone yourself!” She growls again, tries to pull his arm down, tickles his side and he jerks and laughs. Y/n tries to throw a leg over his to hold him down, but Sam’s too quick, too strong. They fumble, thrash, tangled limbs, throat aching full of laughter, struggling and yelling useless threats.

Sam throws the phone on the rug and huffs, visibly almost done with her, like she’s an annoying but entertaining bug. He grips her hands, her left and right in his respectively, throws his leg over her waist, twists and straddles her, hands now over her head.

Heavy breaths. They pant, stare at each other, Sam shakes his head like a dog to get his hair out of his face.

“You can’t win,” he tells her with a confident smile. She narrows her eyes.

“Have you learned nothing from this friendship?” She blows a hair away from her face and looks at him smiling. “I don’t give up that easy,” coy smile, a promise, wink sent his way, and suddenly she’s thrusting up her pelvis, trying desperately to scooch up the bed with the rest of her body, but the grip on her wrists tightens, Sam barely budging. She struggles, drags her body up, fueled by pure determination and spite, wiggles fiercely and just barely manages to get on her belly, which seems like a mistake in hindsight.

Because now her hands are crossed, he’s basically got her on a choke hold with her own forearms, and she’s eagerly trying to get her knees under her, while Sam laughs loudly at grumbled comments like “What the fuck kinda core strength do you have, fucking behemoth.” The sheets get wrinkled and pulled off the edges of her mattress, her pillows get pushed to the side, to the floor, the struggle continues and her stomach and throat hurt from all the laughter, but she really can’t seem to get the upper hand, which would be obvious if someone so much as threw a look at both of them. Sam’s six feet and two full of young, sinewy muscle, a boy- a man, really- with biceps that may not be particularly thick, but the iron grip on her wrists says something else. His hands are the size of her face. Strength is not the way she should be going about this.

She twists again, barely able to get back on her back, and she pants. The asshole looks barely winded and her eyes narrow, him raising an eyebrow challengingly. What to do, what to do?

Y/n relaxes, but Sam doesn’t. She takes a breath, grins briefly up at his momentarily confused face, then yanks her hands up the bed, making him jerk down so he can keep her under his grip and-

And she kisses him.

Nothing long or particularly sexy, just a rough push of her mouth on his, and an ‘umph’ escapes him in surprise.

Sam startles, his grip loosens, and her hands are pulled free of his hold, kicking away from him and managing a small distance apart from his warm body, knees pulled up to her chest and panting fast and loud.

Okay, it seemed smart in that moment. It really did. But for a grand total of five eternally long seconds later, her heart shrinks, diminishes to ash and dust and regret. Sam’s kaleidoscopic eyes are wide, pupils blown, and he, too, is panting.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, is all she can think, so much for not pushing his boundaries, not rushing his pace. How will you ever look in his eyes again?

“Too much?” And he blinks at her, clearly still processing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I- I didn’t mean-”

But then a hand cups her jaw, warm and big and gentle, pulls her face close to his, and his lips are there, pressed on hers. Y/n’s motionless for just a second- she’s dreamt of this for so long, over a year and a half, and it’s happening in the cheesiest way possible- and Sam is on his knees, weight rested on his other hand, reaching for her, he’s kissing her, and move, dammit, do something! A hand grips his wrist, and she pushes herself closer to him, a huff pushed out of Sam’s nose, and her stomach flips in so many stunning, wonderful ways.

Her legs fall to the side, she meets him half-way and kisses him and Sam follows just as fiercely, falls back on his haunches. His hands push under her shoulders, lift her up onto his lap, grab the back of her knees and pull them around his hips and Y/n goes willingly. She holds the sides of his face carefully and parts her lips, and Sam licks into them with caution, curls his strong arms around her waist and sighs into her mouth.

Y/n pulls away. So much for boundaries.

She blinks down at him. Sam’s eyes stay closed for a second longer, peering up at her then. He waits for her to say something. Fingers push his hair back gently, she nudges her nose with his and smiles.

“I win.” Earning a long, dramatic eye roll.

“I had you in a choke hold with your own arms, Y/n.” and her name rolls off his tongue so sweetly. She clicks her tongue.

“Yet here we are,” she whispers, looks down at him and he shakes his head with a sigh. His eyes fall  on her lips once more and he gently chews the inside of his cheek. One large paw cups the side of her head and he kisses her slowly once more before pulling away, thumbing at her cheek.

They smile.

                                                           ****

The sun has descended beneath the horizon, so early it’s kind of comical, but it doesn’t feel like it’s 6 pm anyway, because neither of them has slept at all. Time has lost meaning and form the past two days, everything feels surreal and fake because of the lack of sleep, and now here they are, under warm fairy lights, laying in her bed. There’s been kisses here and there, gently roaming hands, not moving further than that, and again, Y/n doesn’t need anything more. She’s content where she is, surprised she even made it this far. The affection they’ve shared is scarcely fierce and feral, simply quiet, tender, innate. Nothing particularly passionate or aggressive, just warmth and comfort, shielded vulnerability hidden behind brief liplocks. Y/n’s more than okay with it.

She’s laying on his chest, arm around his waist and ear over his heart and they doze together under dim lighting, limbs heavy, hearts feathery light. Sam’s arm falls around her back, pulls her close. She nuzzles his chest.

It’s just so easy to be with him. Around him.

Y/n wonders where they stand after this. If he’ll text her more. If it’ll go back to the occasional long phone call, the random outings because Madison texts him while she’s with Y/n. Will they ever be like this again? How much does she care?

Because, although somewhat pivotal for her view on affection, and tenderness and friendship, ambit stretched now, definitions altered in her mind, she feels that no real barrier has broken, shifted even. They’re still friends. They’re not partners, he’s not her boyfriend and it’s honestly fine. No, really, it is. She’s genuinely okay.

Would she like to see what it’s like to date him? Of course she would. Of course she wants to know what it feels like to know he wants her and only her, wants to know she can hold his hand, can kiss him no matter where they are or with whom, without crossing invisible boundaries tentatively like she did today. Planning dates and late night movie nights and early morning beers with shared drunken kisses.

She just wishes she knew what it’s like to have free access to this sort of affection with someone, and maybe that’s the thing. Sam feels like a good someone to have that with, but at the same time, maybe it’s what he told her on New Year’s and the way he likes to be, maybe it’s the understanding that they’re really not particularly meant to be together, cosmically in love, soulmates, whatever-the-hell, but there’s no dipping of the stomach, no heart rate accelerating, no feeling of being high or drunk. Maybe Y/n just wants someone, anyone to be with, to know she can fall for, and while Sam is warm and funny and familiar and oh so wonderful, while he looks like a great candidate to be in a relationship with, while her heart flips at the possibility of having any semblance of romance in her life, of him in her house, her couch, with her books and his warm hugs, maybe he’d been right. Maybe he knew something too painful to tell her back then, when she confessed her attraction, back when things were raw and bruised and painful to the touch. Sam and her, well… they seem good in theory. They are fun, and safe, they care for one another. They share alcohol bottles easily, common interests, kindness and heeps of love to give. They make sense in a way. But- it’s just not clicking, is it?

This is just… this. Affection for the sake of affection, not romance. And that’s okay to have, more than okay, even. It’s great. It’s comforting. It’s safe, and it’s simple. They can kiss. They can hug. They can cuddle together, and brush each other’s hair away from their faces. Y/n can admire his eyes while he cleans the dishes they ate lunch in. And it can all amount to nothing, without it feeling like band-aids being ripped off bleeding wounds without a warning.

In the words of her mother, why are human relationships so god damn complicated? Why does this one have to be too?

Y/n is content to be in his arms, to philosophically discuss, and open up and talk freely. She’s content with them giggling and wrestling and kissing in between, and they can share their music and their book quotes and their love for one another. It’s just surface level affection. If not surface level, then friendship level. Why is that not enough? Maybe not all relationships have to be tipped in the romantic pink light, and maybe, just maybe that’s okay.

She gazes up at him, rests her chin on his chest, and Sam blinks his lazy, drowsy eyelids open to look down at her sweetly, offers a small and a caress of his hand on her back. And for once, Y/n is completely satisfied with just this, and nothing more.

*****

A/N 2: I reread this and it felt like I reached a conclusion to something gigantic and cosmic, but this seems so simple.  I should know all this by now. *huff*

please tell me what you thought of this!

Forevers:

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester​ @deanssweetheart23​ @nostalgic-uncertainty​ @mogaruke​ @superseejay721517​ @lady-hawkguy​ @thosefeelsarereal​ @superwholockmarauder​  @justiceiswater​ @petra-arkanian-1497​ @heyitscam99​ @danijimenezv​ @aj-reuth  @unicornblood4ever @mystriee​ @sadist-fangirl23 @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @superrandomnatural​ @altosaxplayer098 @winter-moons @hunterswearingplaid​ @novaddictx​ @choosemyname​  @live-like-a-girl​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @bowtomytenderaddiction​  @elara98azalea​ @lemondropirwin​ @emmagolden4118​ @glitchcypher @calaofnoldor​ @paradoxical-sleep​ @narynechan @canwenotdothis​ @suicidepanda07​ @blueaura​

Sam Stuff:

@kymberlytorres​ @theboykingsamwinchester​ @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes​ @captainmarvelcorps​ @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away​ @nellachain​  @percywinchester27​

[isbus]

The House Of Villains Chapter 1

Tags: (insert the prologue tags), slice of life, Walmart, card games, Kars doesn’t know things, not so subtle foreshadowing, references to later chapters, card games, board games,

Chapter 1: Game Night

They were all doing their thing- Diavolo and Doppio chatted together, Dio sat on the couch watching an animal documentary with Kars, Santana was still in the attic, Esidisi and Wamuu talked at the table, and Pucci dusted. They didn't do much else until Kira opened the door when coming home from work. 

Dio turned off the TV, bringing Kars back to reality. Everyone turned to Kira when they heard the television shut off. "Kars, could you get Santana?" Dio asked politely. Kars immediately went up to the attic. 

.

.. 

...

"Put me down!" Santana shouted. Kars went down the stairs, holding Santana on his shoulder. Kars put the younger of the four pillar men on the couch, then sat on his bean bag. 

"Now that Kira is home, I have an idea to share." Dio began. Kira had an idea about what Dio was going to say. It was going to be something outrageous. "We are not normal, and if we continue our ways, our neighbors are going to see it. What we need to do is act normal, and what better way than a family tradition? We are going to try something called 'Family Game Night'." 

Silence... Was it from awe? Or disgust? Or even- 

"Okay. It's simple, all you have to do is play board games." Kira stepped towards the stairs before being stopped by Pucci's question. 

"Do we even have board games? The closest thing we have to a game is tarot cards but we don't have a full deck." Enrico asked simply. 

Kira didn't think about that. He wasn't the type to play games, he was the type to do work, so he sold his board games. "Well, we can always get some. It's not like we're too poor for it. Let's go to the store. Besides, I have things to pick up for me and my girlfriend." 

"Ooh, I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" Dio exclaimed. 

"Congratulations, you finally got one!" Doppio smiled from ear to ear. 

"Don't tell me it's the cat." Wamuu closed his eyes disapprovingly. 

Kira scoffed. "You all are so rude." Yoshikage began to put his work stuff back in his room then stopped. "She's human by the way." 

- Time Skip brought to you By: Disrespecting Businessmen -

Getting dressed like normal people, which they obviously were not, and a few getting their parasols, led them out the door. Kira began to lead before Dio rushed to the front. "Let me." He smiled. As the leader of this group, Dio just HAD to lead. Dio started to walk in front of the Joestar house before he stopped. 

"Why'd you stop?" Kira spoken quietly, partially glaring at the captain. 

Dio smirked sweetly, as if he was in front of a lover of his. He appeared bold to the others, but to the cat lover, he looked like his title was "Super Stupid". "Where's the store?" The blonde vampire fluttered his eyelashes, holding the parasol between his jaw and shoulder while his hands held his knees as he crouched to be at eye level.

Kira sighed. "Just follow me." They continued, this time with Kira in the lead and Dio right behind. The villainous cast spoke to each other as they walked behind Kira. Dio started to strike up a conversation with Pucci, but Pucci immediately dismissed him. 

They looked around at their neighborhood, several houses and people were around the area. The homes on one side of the street had a bunch of friendly people- like that kid in a baseball player outfit around house number 1506, or the teen with a mostly shaved head and pompadour with the older blonde boy that has the braid. 

All that friendliness was enough to make some of the villains question this neighborhood. With those happy faces, it was hard to be in a bad mood. It's like the happiness was rubbing off on them while rubbing them the wrong way. Dio thought about it then shrugged. Kars was glancing around for squirrels that he saw on TV. Kira stayed serious, and continued leading. Doppio and Diavolo spoke back and forth with each other. Pucci strutted as if he wasn't a sucker for God. 

It was taking five-ever. Everyone, excluding Kira, wished it was right around the corner. Past the "For Sale!" homes, and past the other blocks, it took at least three minutes. Well, it would've taken three minutes but Kars found a squirrel and a hawk started following Dio. The hawk presumably got the chain holding it broke and flew away, looking for a new owner since it had a collar and purple scarf. What a fancy bird. 

But the bird may or may not be important. The hawk followed them all the way to the store, then waited by the door. The villain group stepped inside, Kars and the two older pillar men struggled a bit (especially Kars) Santana fit through perfectly though. 

The part of the group that was foreign to this place (that is totally not Wal-Mart) looked around in awe. They put away their parasols and held them by their sides. "Hi welcome to Wal-Mart!" A lady at the front said with a smile. 

As if the woman smashed a bottle and yelled "scatter!", they began walking around. Dio read the sign that said "woman's" and just HAD to see the panty section. Pucci joined him, hoping he wasn't doing what he thought he was doing. Diavolo and Doppio went to the technology section. Kars and Wamuu gone to the pet area. Esidisi and Santana went to the toy section. Leaving Kira alone. Yoshikage looked behind him and saw nobody. 

"This is just great. Everyone left faster than me saying 'Bite the Dust'." Kira spoke to himself. "Come on darling. Let's find them." He looked in his jacket pocket to speak to his girlfriend. 

- Time Skip Brought to you By: Bite Za Dusto

Since Kira was going to the game area and it was right next to the toy section, Kira grabbed a few games and put it in the cart that he grabbed off screen. He heard the angsty teen's voice. "I don't want dolls, I want- wait that one is actually kinda cute... Can I have him?" Santana nearly shouted at first but his voice died down after he found the most handsome doll. 

Kira gone to the doll isle and saw the two- Esidisi was explaining how Kira would get it for him as Santana held a doll with blonde hair and blue eyes. The blonde cat lover coughed. "Come on you two, let's find the others." Santana slightly pouted like he REALLY wanted the doll. "Put it in the cart." The redhead thanked Yoshikage and put the doll in there.

The three gone past the technology section but paused when seeing the pink haired boys looking at phones. They seemed to be agreeing on something, when Kira got closer, the men saw a figure of a manga character in Doppio's hands. 

"I could always get it for you. But I forgot my wallet." Diavolo explained before Doppio started looking glum. 

"How much is it?" Yoshikage's serious voice cut through to their ears. Doppio's face lit up from the darkness of the other's words. 

Doppio checked the price on the bottom and read it aloud. "Twenty dollars." Kira nodded to the cart, signaling him to put the figure in the cart. The pink haired boy done as he was "told", and set the manga character in the cart. 

"Now, where are those last few?" Kira asked himself. Suddenly, he remembered Kars' love for animals. To the pet section! 

The pink haired boys joined the party! 

They all moved forward to the pet section. Moving in different walks, past the fabric and sewing area, to that isle with supplies for small animals, reptiles, and fish. To their avail, they saw the long purple hair and short blonde hair of Kars and Wamuu. The isle also had Jolyne and Jotaro, looking at fish. 

Wamuu and Kars looked at the group, holding a play pen for small animals. "Put it in." Kira sighed. They done just that. "Now, where's the last two?" 

"No! I refuse to wear female underwear!" The group heard none other than Pucci, shouting about panties. "I am clearly a man!" 

"Why is a man shouting about underwear, dad?" Jolyne tried to contain her laughter. 

Jotaro smirked. "Good grief." 

Oh no. The villains thought and rushed to the feminine area. Once they got there, Esidisi covered Santana's eyes so that he couldn't see the- um- interesting area. But everyone else there could see, clear as day, Dio grinning while holding a thong and bra and Enrico blushing with wide eyes. 

"It would look great on you..." Dio spoke in a sing-song voice. 

"No it would not! Besides, that kind of underwear is so sinful!" 

"Would you prefer cheeky?" Pucci's blush darkened at the words that spilled from the blonde's mouth. 

Kira groaned. "Shut it. If he doesn't want it, leave it be. We have to buy this stuff, so let's go to check out." 

"Alright~" Dio sang. Enrico moved towards the check out. "Let's get it anyway." He whispered. 

"Fine but if I wake up to screams of terror, I'm throwing you out." Yoshikage threatened. Dio shrugged and followed Enrico after putting the underwear in the cart. Esidisi removed his hand from over Santana's eyes, and walked with the group. 

- Time Skip brought to you By: I can see your panties... (SICK JOJO REFERENCE) -

As the cashier scanned items, Kira couldn't keep his eyes off of her hands. The lady tried handing the bags to him, but he was too focused on her lovely, dainty hands. "Sir?" She asked, snapping him back to the real world. "Your bags." 

"Oh, thanks." He felt awkward but took the bags and paid up. "Have a nice day, Adrian." He took back his card then speed-walked to the door. 

"Ugh, Kira wait up!" Dio nearly stood for to long until realizing Kira was nearly out the door. The cashier giggled and smiled. 

Kars and the other pillar men followed. Enrico was close behind. "Thank you so much!" Doppio blushed. 

"Here's our number." Diavolo held out a piece of paper with numbers written on it for the lady to take. Before she could take it, Doppio snatched it away, then ran away. "Doppio, don't try to leave me!" He shouted and ran to the exit. 

The cashier sighed. "Cute, aren't they?" A Burger King worker spoke to the cashier. 

"Yeah, Aimi. They sure are." She responded. 

"Miss? Do you know where this address is? I'm not from around here." 

- Time skip Brought to you by: An Unnamed Man asking a cashier for directions! -

Once they got home, they immediately looked at the games Yoshikage got. Monopoly, Uno, The Game Of Life, etc. But one definitely caught their eyes. A game called Villainous. But (to avoid copyright) they played Uno. 

"Ok. We are not allowed to use our stands to cheat. That's the only rule I have." Kira set up the game by handing out seven cards to those who were playing. Santana played video games in the attic, Esidisi watched Santana play those games, Wamuu and Doppio cheered on their leaders, as the other five played Uno. "And to make sure we aren't cheating, they will be watching us play." 

Dio already knew what he would do. "The World!" The World came out of the card and stopped time. "Will you help me? All you have to do is stop time when I give you a signal." 

The World stared, then shook his head. "I refuse." 

"What?! No! I have to win!" The World resumes time after Dio exclaims. 

Kira put the collar on the pink housecat and Killer Queen appears. "Let's win this Kira!" 

Diavolo rubbed the gem and King Crimson stands behind him. "We got this." Diavolo and King Crimson both say in unison. 

Pucci puts the disc in the portable DVD player and crawling out of the screen was Whitesnake. Once he gets out, he sighs. "It sure was cramped in there..." 

Everyone looked at the cards that were handed out and the game was decided. A green nine. Dio was first, and he played a green seven. "Easy as that." He said cockily. 

"So, we have to match colors?" Kars asked. 

"You can match colors, or numbers. If you don't have a cards that match the number or color, then you draw from the deck until you get something to play or until you reach four cards." Kira explained.

Kars nodded. "What does this card do?" He pulled out a plus four. Kira's eyes widened, knowing he was next. 

Dio burst out laughing. "If you play that card then the next person gets four cards and you change the color." He tried to stop the laughter by talking but he nearly coughed when doing so. "So, what are you going to do?" 

Kars hummed in thought, then he took a card. Before placing it down, or even where the others could see, he looked at Wamuu. "Of course, sir." Dio felt he knew what card he was going to place, so he smirked and crossed his arms. He would have the upper hand against the ever-so-lucky Yoshikage Kira. 

Kars soon placed the card after Wamuu gave the signal of approval. Or what I, the Narrator, like to call "The F*ck Yes Do it!" signal. Only be- oh sh*t. 

Dio, I'm sorry, but your prediction was incorrect. 

A blue seven. 

Dio looked at the card Kars placed, then at Kars, then back at the card, Kars, card- this could go on. 

But before you continue... 

Try saying "Kars Card" ten times fast. 

Ready? Cool. 

Dio saw what was going on. Kars was trying to get the turns reversed so he could play the plus four on Dio. But Kars didn't understand much about human culture, right? He only really understood animals. Dio thought to himself about how HE'S the ultimate being and how Kars shouldn't be called that. 

When he smirked, Kira knew what was going through the vampire's mind. I don't need to repeat. 

Kira's turn was a simple blue three. Killer Queen pouted. I know. I could've done worse. Kira thought to him and the Queen. 

"Oh! That one!" The younger pink haired boy pointed at a card and the older of the two placed it. The game continued and rage ensued until a winner was decided. The winner was Kira. Who wouldn't have guessed that the ever-so-lucky Yoshikage Kira would win?