#anyways !! I’m home and just gonna lurk since it’s already late

[hellishvxbes]

HOME!! Look at my lovely vision board for 2025

[pitifulbaby]

uncharted waters

summary: being a prince wasn’t what Steve wanted, he wanted adventure in the sea. he wanted freedom from the strict life he was given, he wanted to be himself and not the royalty that was bestowed upon him.

pairings: Prince!Steve x Fem!Mermaid!Reader

warnings: depiction of boat crash and fire, steve has big feelings

a/n: i’m gonna be honest in the fact that i have been trying to write this ever since i saw the live action little mermaid which was in may. maybe ill write more for this or maybe i wont it just depends on my brain and if people like this? anyways, enjoy! 4.4k words

The whirling of the wind was a constant on the ocean, which was wonderful in getting a boat across the open waters to and fro its destinations. The hum of the waves and buzzing of the winds mixed beautifully, the occasional squawk of a seagull here and there depending on just how close you might be to the shore. 

To some, being on a ship was terrifying, the rocking back and forth as well as not knowing just what was in the deep blue this giant piece of wood was moving across. It was a horrifying idea, especially when you think just how deep the ocean is. Who truly knows what is lurking deep, deep down? 

But to Steve Harrington, the sea was his favorite thing. The thrill of sailing was intoxicating, there seemed to never be a dull moment with his crew. The Prince knew he probably shouldn’t enjoy being on the ship as much as he did, but could you blame him? He knows he should be thankful to be born into royalty, he was given a world many could only dream of. But at what cost?

Sure he had the world at his fingertips, but only to a point. He had rules after rules to follow, his clothing had to be pristine at all times, no slouching- the list goes on and on. The one time he felt himself was out at sea, the breeze in his hair and spray of water against his tanned, freckled skin made him feel alive. 

King Matthew Harrington and Queen Doris were off to some other kingdom for ‘business’ but Steve knew it was just a glorified vacation away from their own home. His parents enjoyed being rulers, but they didn’t enjoy the working part of it. 

So that's why they seemed to always be away doing their work, or, lack of it. 

The work was then placed on their son, Prince Steve. Steve was still in his late teens and already had the weight of the kingdom placed upon his shoulders. The Kingdom was smaller than the neighboring ones, the palace built upon the shorelines of Hawkins, overlooking the sea. 

Though the Prince was old enough to look after himself, he was still placed in the care of his majordomo and confidant whenever his parents were gone- which was most of the time. Jim, or as he is referred to as Hopper, is a hulking figure of a man, around the age of Steve’s parents. He was hard headed, but never cruel. Steve had more of a father son relationship with Sir Hopper than he does with his own. 

The day was gone, leaving dark skies with shimmering stars and a big moon in its wake. Upon the royal ship was Steve and his crew, one of his crewmates- and closest friends Robin, thought it would be a wonderful idea to celebrate the male's birthday by sailing out, light some fireworks off and just have a bit of fun. So that's what they decided to do for his 19th birthday. 

Laughter filled the top deck of the ship, cups were filled with drinks, the atmosphere was light and happy. It was something Steve needed, he didn’t feel like a prince in the moment, he simply felt like a teenage boy. 

Unbeknownst to anyone upon the ship, they were being watched. Not in a bad way, but curious eyes seemed to be glued to the rowdy crew. In the water was you, a creature of the sea, a mermaid. 

Attached to the side of the ship were lifeboats in case of emergencies, hoisted right above the water. You had managed to hoist yourself into one of the boats, the railings of the ship had arches at the bottom of them so you were able to look in, eyes wandering across the group. The only way you would be seen was if someone was looking for you.

All you have known was life under the ocean, because that's all you were shown. Your father was very strict about the surface world, but why is it always the things we can’t have, become the things we are most interested in?

You were never allowed to venture off far, never get close to any other humans, never this and never that. Like Steve you just wanted more but you were glued to these rules. You couldn’t step a toe- in your case, fin, out of line. But that didn’t stop your curiosity, it seemed that since you couldn’t have it, the urge for it was stronger.

But today seemed to be the closest you have ever gotten to another human other than your father, sure you have swam to the surface but that was only to visit father, but never were you this close to anyone else. People were odd to you in a sense, but they were absolutely fascinating. They seemed to lose things rather easily, which sucked for them but earned a hyperfixation for you and the lost objects. Hidden in your grotto was a plethora of odd findings, things that you didn’t know the names of so you gave them your own. 

Those thoughts seemed to slip away as you admired the crew, eyes wide and full of wonder. You knew you shouldn’t be here, you knew that if you were seen you would get caught and who knows what they would do. Your father told you that humans were ruthless, told you gruesome stories to try and get you from losing interest in humans. 

But they were just so fascinating, and they made such odd and amazing things! 

Your hands rested against the side of the ship, resting against it to try and see further into the boat. You just wanted to observe, see how they lived. But, you were caught, luckily though, not  by a human. A creature seemed to notice you, a rather big and fluffy one at that. If you remembered correctly it was a dog that sensed you. With a wagging tail and paws padding against the wood, the animal trotted over to you.

Luckily no one noticed, yet. You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped past your lips, the dog sticking its face through the opening and sniffing your outstretched hand before licking you. Moving your hand slowly you let your fingers run through the fur. The texture of the animal was odd, the fur absorbing the water from your hands. But the dog didn’t seem to mind the drops of water, too distracted by the mermaid.

“Dart! C’mon boy, you’re gonna get stuck.” A voice soon called out, as the voice rings through, you quickly duck down and move away from the opening of the railing.

You were hidden from their view, but you could still see them. A tall gruff man shoos the dog, whom you have found out is named Dart, away from the opening. 

“Dart, you getting into trouble?” This time the words were spoken by a different voice, his voice calm as he spoke to the dog. Shifting in the boat you moved your head and caught a glimpse of who was speaking. He was a tall male, though not as tall as the one before him. Fluffy dark hair, and he adorned a flowy white shirt, tucked into a pair of trousers with a deep blue vest over the shirt, finished off with a sash around his waist. His smile was wide, sun kissed skin and soft freckles gracing his features.

He was breathtaking. The sight of him caused your interest to somehow be more peeked, keeping a close eye on the boy who seemed not much older than you. 

The crew soon was moving their attention to one of the crew members. Her hair was short- not even touching the tops of her shoulders. Her attire was similar to the pretty males, but she ditched the vest and her clothes weren’t as pristine as his. With a laugh she was moving to a large object draped with fabric, hiding whatever it was. 

She then hopped on top of a crate next to the object- a little clumsy with her actions before she was raising her cup high and smacking the side of the metal with a spoon a few times. The clanking caused laughter from the crew, Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a laugh at her antics. “As we all know our lovely-” the last word was said with a fake gag, “Prince Steve is finally turning nineteen!” Her voice was a bit low with a natural rasp. 

Her hands waved when she spoke, some of the liquid in her cup splashing onto one of the other crew members, he looked to be the youngest of them all. “Seriously, Robin?” He questioned, his words having a faint lisp to them. “Sorry Dustin,” She said with a fake glare to the younger boy.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” She passes her cup and spoon off to someone else, “Since it is his birthday, we have all decided on getting you a gift!” Robin exclaims, biting back a laugh that has a deeper undertone. Steve’s brows furrow, leaning back against the railing as his eyes stay glued to the crew he calls his closest friends. 

Robin is stifling a laugh, her hands closing around the fabric hiding the large item. “Are you ready for the greatest gift of all, Prince Steve?” Robin’s words were spoken in a teasing manner, the prince simply sighs, nodding slowly. “I fear I don’t have much of a choice.” Steve spoke with a fake sadness. Robin’s smile was mischievous, tightening her grasp on the cotton. With a quick pull the fabric was ripped away, the material snapping into the wind with a ‘whoosh!’ sound. The gift was finally unveiled to be a large statue of none other than Steve Harrington, it was gray and made from stone, depicting the Prince with a proud look adorning his face, a sword in its sheath at his left hip, his left hand against said hip and his right hand reaching across his chest and torso to rest against the hilt of the sword. 

The ship goes silent as everyone stays still, gaze shifting from the statue and the actual person. The only sound is the wind and the crashing of the waves. Suddenly Steve lets out a laugh and the crew follows suit. Hopper placed his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. 

Steve was rather nervous to receive his birthday gift, only for the fact that he feels like he has every materialistic item he could have. It wasn’t unusual for the young maidens of neighboring kingdoms to send gifts to Steve, he is a young, handsome bachelor who is a Prince, an heir to a throne. So of course women and even the occasional man will send their finest gifts with a letter in hopes of wooing the male and land themselves a seat in the royal family. 

His face is flushed in embarrassment as he stares at the large statue, his hand going over his mouth. He lets his hand fall back to his side after a moment, opening his mouth and closing it- he did so a few times as he tried to come up with what to say. “We had it commissioned, though we were hoping it could’ve been a wedding present, birthday seemed good enough.” Robin spoke through her laughter, stepping down from the crate. 

“Hey I think it's good there isn’t a girl in the picture yet, I couldn’t imagine getting that as a wedding gift.” Dustin spoke back to Robin, causing some of the crew to let out quiet ‘oohs!’ in response to his remark. Steve simply rolls his eyes at that, turning his gaze to Hopper. The older male motioned him over, leading them to the other side of the ship while everyone else continued on with the celebration.

Unknowingly they stepped closer to the boat you were currently hiding in, pressed against the ship.

As Steve looked at Hopper he felt his eyebrows furrow at the face he was making. Jim was a stoic man, truthfully no one could ever figure out what emotion he seemed to be feeling. But when you were basically raised by the man, you learn to pick up the small differences in his features. Steve let himself lean against the railing, crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Jim to speak.

“Your parents sent a letter,-” He spoke, his words low. Steve let out a groan, throwing his head back for a moment before righting himself. “Let me guess, no ‘Happy Birthday to our wonderful and only child!’” He guessed, but it wasn’t a guess when he knew he was right. The boy couldn’t remember the last time he spent a birthday with his parents, hell, he couldn’t remember the last time they spent any sort of holiday or celebration together! 

“They want to know when you will be getting married.” Hopper’s words were point blank, quick to the point and void of emotion, Steve turns around to face the railing, pressing his elbows against the wooden frame and digging the palm of his hands into his eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this kid, but time is ticking and you do need to find someone.” 

“There are plenty of women lining up-” Jim is then interrupted as Steve stands back up. “I don’t want to just settle for a wife, besides none of them want me for me. They want the royalty aspect of me.” Steve’s words are quiet, laced with pain. 

“Every time I have tried to get to know someone it just- it doesn't feel right because I know there is an ulterior motive. They don’t see me for me, they see this Prince, which sure yeah I am. But I wanna be seen as Steve, not Prince Steve.” The young boy ranted, pouring out his feelings to one of the only adults that would ever listen to him. 

Jim wasn’t the best at comforting, especially to Steve. The two were gifted different lifestyles but they met in the middle, two different upbringings. One was born into royalty and the other who somehow managed to become a part of a royal family. 

He placed his hand on the boys shoulder, giving the younger male a small shake. “We just want you to be happy, maybe try looking harder or in other places.” 

Steve simply sighs, his shoulders drooping. “When I find her, I will know. It will hit me like lightning.” His words were more for himself, trying to find comfort in his own words. “But I’m not worried about that right now, I’m still young, Hopper. I can worry about marriage later on in life. Right now I want to spend as much time out on the ocean as I can.” He said with a small smile, looking out at the water. In the distance was a bolt of lightning, the waves started to get a bit rough. 

“Storms moving in fast,” Steve spoke, watching for a moment before he was soon turning to the crew. 

Just moments ago everything was calm, but the waves were harsher now. There were no obvious signs that there was a storm coming, the sky was already dark from the nighttime. Everything seemed to happen fast, rain pouring down from the sky and causing the deck of the ship to be a slip and slide as everyone ran around in preparation for the storm. 

Everyone was bustling around, moving around in a speedy fashion as the storm got worse by the second. Securing things down with rope, reefing the sails and climbing the netting of the masts. In simple words it was chaos as everyone tried to batten down the hatches. The waves became choppy by the second, rocking the boat hard. 

Hopper had ventured to the stern of the ship to the helm, steering the ship as best he could in the weather, his eyes slanted as he tried to shield his vision from the pouring rain and the wind. But he is cut short as a huge wave crashes over the ship, slamming into the male and pushing him to the ground. Steve notices from the other side of the ship, he sees the wheel abandoned and soon he is rushing to the spinning wheel. He takes the steps two at a time, nearly sliding to the ground before he grasps the helm, planting his feet to the ground. The wheel shows much restraint, causing Steve to struggle for a moment. His eyes are trained ahead at the wild open sea, the waves rocking the ship and parting to show a boulder of rocks protruding from the water. It was planted right where the vessel was set to sail. Quickly Steve steers the wheel in the other direction, pushing with all his strength as he gets it to spin the opposite way. 

For whatever reason through this all, you stayed in the lifeboat, you knew through it all it was probably a stupid idea to stay seated. But you were entranced by Steve, it was like he was the siren and you were the pirate, weakened by his enticing voice. You watched it all, watched the chaos and panic ensue as you stayed in the boat watching like a hawk. Your head whipped to the side as you noticed the rock formation, quickly diving out as the side of the life vessel you were in was the side that was destined to hit the boulder.

The ship hit the stone formation head on, the large boat hitting hard causing the front to break and splinter off, throwing objects and men off the vessel. The hanging lamps that were strung from pillar to pillar atop the ship soon came crashing down, the fire inside soon spread across the wooden ship, up the mast and to the sails.

Steve Harrington scrambled up, his eyes wide as he panted, looking out at his ship and seeing it start to engulf into flames. He once again was running down the stairs, “Lifeboats! Abandon ship!” He screamed out, motioning over the railings and into the water. “Abandon ship?” Dustin screamed back, his words laced with panic. Steve simply nodded, “Go!” He called back, watching as the crew jumped overboard into the water, the lifeboats already having been lowered down by one of the crew.

The sails, pillars and masts were crashing down, the fire was an intense blaze, the rain still pelting down heavily. Steve watched as everyone jumped out, his eyes roaming the broken ship and not seeing anyone aboard. But before he could join anyone in the lifeboats, he heard barking. “Dart,” His body whipped around, eyes scanning over the fiery ship before landing on the old english sheepdog. Dart was stuck on the stern by the steering wheel, barking as he hoped to alert someone that he was still there and stuck. 

The Prince searched for a way up there, eyes frantic as he ran- jumping over ablaze wooden planks, moving rope out of his way before finally he was able to reach the dog. “It's okay, I got you,” Steve spoke to Dart, his arms curling under the belly of the dog and hoisting him up. He ran to the side of the ship, “I’m sorry bud,” He said before he had to toss him into the open water. 

In one of the boats nearby was the youngest crew member, Dustin Henderson. Reaching his hand out into the water, “C’mon boy! It's okay!” He called out to the animal, watching as he paddled as fast as he could. But the dog was struggling, the waves were still choppy and rain still strong, a second later though he got faster. Under the water helping him was you, your hands pushing him up ever so to keep his head out of the water, you swam under him and helped the dog over to the boy. Once the animal was being pulled out of the sea you swam under the boat, having decided you were going to leave. But a gut feeling was telling you to stay, the top of your head and eyes peeking up over the water.

“Steve!” Jim screamed out from one of the life vessels, and all eyes were on the boy. Right as he was about to jump overboard, the ship was crashed by a wave. Causing Steve to lose balance and land on his back before being dragged by gravity down the ship before breaking through the wooden railings and into the open water. 

With wide eyes you watched him plummet down, quickly diving underwater and to the wreck, surfacing as you tried to find the boy before finally seeing his lifeless body sinking fast. Once again you were back underwater. 

It was much calmer under the sea, eyes trained on the prince as you swam after him. The world was much darker, everything more muffled. You know you should prefer under the water, but there was something about the outside world that was so much more interesting to you. Maybe you just lacked any social aspect other than your family and you can only talk to the sea life for so long. 

Much like Steve, you felt as if you were destined for more than you were given, but you were tied down by everyone around you telling you what you should or shouldn’t do.

Once he was in reach you let one of your arms curl around his waist, pulling his back against your side as you started your swim back up to the surface. You swore you haven’t swam that fast in a while, fin slicing through the water in hopes of reaching the boy you weren’t even sure was alive in the first place. But finally you got him above the water, shifting his body close to you. He took a deep, shuddery breath the moment he could, but he was still out like a light. The adrenaline wore off and hitting the water so hard knocked him unconscious. 

Holding him tight you let the waves move you both away from the wreckage, your eyes trailing to look at the damage of the ship. Pieces of wood and other objects littered the sea around you, the only light source was from the flames of the ablaze vessel that was once so lively. The moon wasn’t insight, hidden away by the dark clouds they continued to pelt down rain. Even after it helped wreak so much havoc it still showed no mercy in its doings. 

The wreck happened rather far into the ocean, and by the time you managed to swim him to shore, the sun had risen and the storm was gone without a trace. The sky was clear as can be and the sun shining bright.

Getting him onto the sand was a bit of a struggle, gently laying him down onto the warm sand as the waves splashed behind you. A bit of fear encased you as you didn’t see him move, at some point the buttons on his shirt seemed to have become undone. Pressing your hand against his naked chest as you leaned your ear right above his heart. You could hear the faint beat, but he wasn’t doing anything else. Leaning back up you noticed a piece of seaweed stuck to his shirt, grabbing it and flinging it somewhere over your shoulder.

You could feel panic bubbling up, taking hold of his shoulders and shaking him gently- hoping to wake the man. 

Finally he moved, well, he coughed up some water in his lungs, which was more comforting for you than it probably should be. The waves crashed against his feet and the fin of your tail, his body relaxing after his lungs were finally cleared and he could breathe normally. He was still unconscious, you let one of your hands keep you propped up while the other rested against his chest.

Quietly you hum a tune, moving your hand to rest against his cheek. Your humming turned into singing, nonsense words that were almost a plea of wishing you could be human like him and see the world. You softly turned his head towards you, noticing the cut above his eyebrow that had stopped bleeding. Your hand trails back to rest against his chest, your eyes taking in each and every small detail adorning his freckled face. You knew he was beautiful far away, but up close he was just breathtaking. Words couldn’t describe his beauty, his features were sharp but they were formed to give his face such a soft look. 

As you softly sang, his hand started to move as he slowly gained consciousness. His hand moving to gently rest against yours, his eyes moving under his lids. Once again you knew you should’ve left as soon as possible, but there was this pull to him that held on tight. Slowly his eyes parted, dark brown irises meeting you. His vision was blurred, the sun was right beside your head so you were a silhouette that was slowly becoming more clear. A gentle smile pulled at your lips as your singing came to a stop. But soon the sounds of shouting could be heard from above, your head snapping to the side as you see a bundle of people bustling down the rocky mountains.

You knew they were here for the man who had let his eyes fall shut once again, and once more you were back in the water at a safe distance. The top of your head was above water, eyes peeking out as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. 

“Over here!” One of the men said as they ran to the Prince, leaning down and pressing their hand against his chest. “He’s alive!” He called back, another man coming to the other side of Steve, helping hoist him up before they were off. 

With eyes full of wonder you watched it all happen, hoisting yourself up onto some rocks to see better, waves slammed against the rock formation you were leaned against, water flying and splashing around you as you felt a smile pull at your face. You never made promises with yourself, if things were meant to happen they would, but you had this feeling that in this moment, something was starting now and you would fight for it.

[glenrocklibraryteens]

My Arboretum Adventure (With Ducks)!

My sister and I went to the Arboretum because there was finally a break from the rain. Who would’ve thought that I’d miss the sun and heat? (Just kidding, I’d take rain over the 1,000,000-degree weather from my last post any day). Anyway, we arrived and we became promptly lost within 1 second of walking. Then we scrambled around for a while trying to find the entrance (in hindsight, we must have looked pretty stupid because it was right there, but what are you going to do?). But eventually, we found it, and into the woods we went! I found this cool tree with pink flowers on it and almost immediately afterward, I spotted what I thought was a waterfall, so obviously I wanted to check it out. We stumbled across a lake with a fountain. It was pretty cool! My sister and I took some pictures and tried to avoid the other people lurking around the lake (that was mostly her. She’s anti-social ¯\_(ツ)_/¯). Then I came across this side path with a bridge and I really wanted to go, but my sister didn’t want to go. We argued for a while and then I said we could split up and meet at the spot in 5 minutes. She agreed and we went our separate ways. I’m pretty sure you can guess what happened. Spoiler: I was late. But that’s what she thinks. Let me tell you my side of the story. So I went down the bridge path and checked my watch to see when I needed to be back. My watch said 5:15. Remember that, folks. That’s important for later in the story. Anyway, I was walking and singing some songs and almost tripped to my death over some roots and overall having a grand ol’ time. So I was walking and ended up finding myself on a slanted hill/cliff thing that overlooked the Glen Rock Pool. Then I saw some nice yellow flowers. By that time, it was 5:18, so I figured I’d better head back or she’d get grumpy (grumpier). So I jogged, yes, jogged, (see, I did try to be on time) back, avoiding roots. I already knew I was gonna be late, but I wasn’t gonna be any later than I had to be! Then I got to her, spread my hands, and said, ‘Sorry I’m late!’. So here’s the thing. My sister was convinced that when we parted ways, it was 5:12. So she was back by 5:17, waiting for me. I had gotten back at 5:21. So she was really mad (By the way, my sister is younger than me. You’d think I’m supposed to be the grumpy, uptight one since I’m older and a “teenager”, but nope!). She told me she had been waiting for 5 minutes, but I said I was only a minute late. Because my watch said 5:15. Apparently, her phone had said 5:12. We compared my watch and her phone and the times were the same. I am still 100% certain that we split up at 5:15, but what are you going to do? Not my fault she got the time wrong and waited extra. We bickered for a while, but then we saw some ducks paddling along and all was forgotten. I mean, ducks! We kept on walking and then around 5:30 our dad showed up, so we retraced our steps. We got lost, then found our way, then got lost again, but come on! It’s the Arboretum! Finally, we made it back to the entrance to our dad. I wanted to go through the entrance like a normal civilized human, but my sister insisted on jumping the fence (okay, we didn’t jump the fence. We walked around it. But come on. If there is a giant fence blocking one path, even if it doesn’t cover the whole path, are you going to go around the fence or out the door?). We got in the car and shared our story with our dad, who became tired of us bickering within the first minute, and went home. Moral of the story: little sisters are wrong and ducks fix everything ;)

[hmslusitania]

Can I tempt you into sharing a out Dispatcher!Eddie? 👀👀👀🤡

Oh dispatcher!Eddie my most abandoned fic to not actually make it to the abandoned folder in my 9-1-1 file.

Basically, the premise is instead of becoming a firefighter, Eddie's PTSD was just that little bit worse and so he instead became a 9-1-1 dispatcher and takes the calls featuring the 118 from the pilot. He and Buck would then become friends due to repeated run-ins over the phone, but Eddie would not get Buck's number from the record of the 9-1-1 call. They would instead meet in person the first time when Isabel breaks her hip and Chris calls 9-1-1 (which is a call Eddie takes) and to which the 118 responds. While they're transporting Isabel, because Eddie's a dispatcher and Buck kinda knows him, Bobby just leaves a man behind to babysit Chris (with Eddie's permission) while Eddie runs to get him. I never quite worked out how the events of season 2 were going to figure into it and didn't want to rewatch season 1 to get all the calls organised, so now I just have this random first chapter that lurks on my hard drive and gives me judgemental looks.

Anyway, the fic would've been titled If There's a Hell for Lovers (And That's Where You're Gonna Be) not for any particular reason, just because I like that line in the song, and if y'all promise to understand that I will almost certainly never continue this fic, the first chapter went something like this:

warnings for everything that happened in the pilot episode and some Diaz boys miscommunication because Chris is six.

“I think you’re officially ready to fly solo,” Josh says, and he waves Eddie to a desk. “Do you feel ready?”

“Sure,” Eddie says. Josh pats him on the shoulder.

“And we’re only going to bump, like, half the calls with immediate first aid requirements to you,” Josh promises.

Eddie laughs and sits down at his new desk. Between being a medic in the army and the EMT certification he’d done when he was planning to move to LA for a very different job, he does have more medical experience than a lot of dispatch. But, through the few weeks of training he’s done, he’s come to understand it just means he has to look fewer things up. It’s probably a handicap, honestly, because the rest of the dispatchers he’s working with are so fast at looking things up and he’s got almost no practice so when he eventually does have to find something, it’s going to be a nightmare.

He doesn’t have time to dwell, because his line is ringing.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

---

After his shift, he goes to pick Chris up from his abuela’s house and is immediately pressed to stay for dinner.

“How was your first day?” she asks, ladling more food onto his plate.

“It wasn’t my first day,” Eddie says.

“But it was your first day without a supervisor leaning over your shoulder,” she says. “So how was it?”

“It was…good,” Eddie says.

They press him for details over dinner, and he tells them the story of the baby in the wall, since that one had a happy ending. He doesn’t tell them about the call that started his day, with the woman who jumped.

Chris is mostly quiet on the drive home and Eddie assumes it’s just because it’s late and he’s sleepy, but while Eddie’s helping him get his crutches, Chris pouts at him.

“I thought you wanted to be a firefighter,” Chris says.

Eddie’s glad Chris is looking away from him so that his son doesn’t see him wince.

“I just wanted to help people,” Eddie says, collecting Chris’s backpack and locking the truck. “And firefighters have to wait to help people until after they’ve already called 9-1-1. If I’m the one taking the calls, then I can help them even faster.”

Chris shrugs, disappointed, and Eddie’s stomach knots. It’s going to be fine, it has to be fine, but it also just sort of sucks right then.

He gets Chris into bed, reads him to sleep – even though he does the voices wrong, apparently – and makes the incredibly mature decision to sulk for the rest of the night.

---

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

The caller is almost silent, but Eddie can hear breathing. It’s not good breathing. It’s the raspy, unwell type of breathing.

“Is someone there?” he asks.

“He’s – choking – me.”

It takes the woman on the other end of the line so long to get the words out that Eddie immediately starts the tracking software. He can’t guarantee at this point that the woman is going to get her address out.

“Ma’am, do you know your attacker?” he asks as the location finally pops up on the screen.

“It’s – my – snake.”

Eddie cancels the alert for the police, and just sends the fire department.

“Ma’am, help is on the way,” he says as the icon for the 118 response team starts moving in her direction.

She drops the phone, but the call doesn’t disconnect so Eddie just listens. The snake – snakes? – in the woman’s home sound a bit like phone static, or like shifting sand, and when he realises that second comparison, it makes him shudder.

I thought you wanted to be a firefighter.

Not when the idea of sand and dirt shifting snaps him right back to Afghanistan, and not when loaded turnouts felt so much like his army medic kit.

He hears the firefighters arrive and one of them swears. They negotiate what they’re going to do about the – apparently massive – python wrapped around the woman’s throat, but Eddie doesn’t catch the specifics until three of the voices start saying, “No, Buck, don’t—”

And then there’s a sick thwack, followed by the woman taking a deep, gasping breath.

Someone picks up the woman’s phone.

“Dispatch?”

It’s a stern, fatherly voice and the man sounds exasperated.

“Yes,” Eddie says.

“We got her,” the man says.

“Good to know,” Eddie says, and the man hangs up.

Eddie shudders away the sound of the snakes shifting like sand and goes to get more coffee.

---

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Yeah, hi, there’s a fire truck parked in front of my building?”

Eddie frowns, but the woman continues before he can ask more questions.

“I just got home and there’s just this truck? The ladder’s out up to the roof,” she says. “Is it safe to go inside?”

“Ma’am, you should ask one of the firefighters on the scene that,” Eddie says.

“There aren’t any!”

He blinks. “Ma’am?”

“There’s no firefighters! There’s just this truck and the ladder up to the roof!”

“Could I get your location, ma’am?”

She tells him and Eddie recognises it. It’s the same address as the snake lady that morning. When he puts it into the system, it helpfully tells him that the 118 ladder truck is parked there.

“Ma’am, please hold just a second,” he says. He puts her on hold and checks the call logs to see if the 118 has been dispatched anywhere.

When they have not, he finds the on-call phone number for Captain Nash.

“Captain 118,” says the same man who told Eddie they’d saved the woman from her snake.

“Captain Nash? This is Eddie Diaz at dispatch,” Eddie says. “Were you guys called back to the building from this morning?”

“No, why?” Captain Nash asks.

“Your ladder truck is there.”

There’s a pause and then Captain Nash swears, mutters something that ends in “uck” and thanks Eddie for calling.

“I’ll go handle that,” Captain Nash says, and they hang up.

Eddie returns to the woman who’d called. “Ma’am, your building is perfectly safe. Someone’s on their way to deal with the truck.”

“Oh, good,” the woman says, and hangs up.

---

It’s almost the end of his shift when the little girl calls. She can’t be that much older than Christopher, and that knowledge just about stops his heart. She sounds so scared.

“Lily, we’re going to get you out of this,” Eddie tells her and hopes to god she believes him. “What’s your address?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers and sounds miserable about it. Eddie makes a mental note to have Chris do repetition drills of their address the second he gets home. “We just moved here.”

He takes the pieces she can tell him, but it’s not enough.

“Lily, I need you to stay on the line,” Eddie says. “I have to talk to the police, but I promise you I am still listening, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

Eddie switches his mic over to Sergeant Grant. “Can you run your sirens? We should be able to pinpoint where she is when I can hear you through her phone.”

“A cop siren is going to spook the bastards,” she says, and then pauses. “Give me a second, I have an idea.”

Eddie talks to Lily while Sergeant Grant comes up with her idea, and then a third voice joins the call.

“Just…run the siren and drive slowly?” the guy asks, sounding unimpressed.

“I patched you into dispatch,” Sergeant Grant says. “They’ll be able to figure out where she is when the siren comes through.”

“Dispatch?” the guy asks.

“Here and listening,” Eddie tells him. “What are you driving?”

A fire truck siren blares.

“Okay, Lily, you’re going to have to listen for the fire truck,” Eddie tells her. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lily whispers back.

“Firefighter—” Eddie starts.

“Buckley,” he says. “Buck.”

“Buck,” Eddie repeats. “What engine are you driving? I can track it on CAD.”

When Buck says it’s the 118 engine, Eddie finds it in the system. The rest of the 118 are on a different call with the ladder and ambulance.

“Good thing you guys got your ladder truck back, huh?” Eddie says.

For reasons Eddie can’t fathom, Buck groans.

They go through the process of figuring out which house Lily is in, but when it all starts to fall apart, everyone stops answering Eddie’s questions. He’s left staring at the screen and listening to Sergeant Grant swear and Lily’s screams getting farther away from the phone she’s dropped. Even Buck’s stopped answering, and Eddie wonders if this is what going crazy feels like.

He’s distantly aware of Josh standing right behind him with a comforting hand on his shoulder. When Eddie glances at him, he’s got a sympathetic, grim expression on.

Eddie doesn’t know if he breathes until he hears Buck start laughing into his phone.

“Firefighter Buckley?” Eddie asks. “What happened?”

“I knocked the asshole off his motorcycle with a firehose,” Buck says. “Lily’s fine. Sergeant Grant and her mom have her.”

“Oh thank god,” Eddie breathes. And then he thinks about what Buck just said. “Isn’t that super against regulations?”

“What are they gonna do?” Buck asks. “Fire me twice?”

“You got fired?” Eddie asks.

“I, uh, borrowed the ladder truck,” Buck says. “Only reason I was in the station when Sergeant Grant called in a favour, so maybe it was just the universe’s way of looking out for us.”

Eddie laughs, unable to help it. Partly it’s relief that Lily is okay and that the guys who broke into her house are going to jail, but mostly it’s because former firefighter Buckley is ridiculous.

“The universe doesn’t do that, but it was a nice coincidence,” Eddie says. He can feel Josh’s eyes on him from the next station and remembers abruptly that these calls are all recorded. “I hope you get your job back.”

“Me too,” Buck says. “And I’ll let you get back to yours.”

Eddie tells him good luck and ends the call.

“Good job,” Josh tells him, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.

Eddie thanks him and tries not to wonder what, exactly, Firefighter Buckley was doing on that roof.

Edit: I ended up writing this whole fic

[idy-ll-ique]

All Mine.

Pairing: Andy Barber x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: age gap, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting (damn)

Requested: nope

Summary: Andy Barber has been through a lot. After getting a divorce from his ex-wife, he moves into the house next to the Y/L/Ns. And he has his eyes on Y/N since day one. Little does he know, Y/N likes him too and things get interesting one night.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Before you ask, no, I haven't watched Defending Jacob yet because I do not have the attention span to watch an entire series. So yeah, this has no spoilers. Also, I'm asexual so don't @ me for the smut please and thank you. Enjoy!

---

"Good morning, Mr Barber!"

He looked up from his phone and saw his neighbor smiling at him. He grinned back at her, his mood immediately lightening. "Hi, Y/N! How many times have I told you, call me Andy," he chided gently, keeping his phone away. "Okay, okay, just feels a little weird, ya know? Anyway, what are you doing here? You almost never take the bus," Y/N chuckled.

He flashed her another grin, his boyish side automatically coming out. It always happened when she was near. Y/N Y/L/N was Andy Barber's cute neighbor, but the only thing is, she was way, way younger than he was, her parents were just a couple of years older than him. Despite the huge age-gap, Y/N had won his heart. And he didn't mind in the slightest.

"My car broke down yesterday, it's at the auto repair shop. I got no other vehicle," he shrugged. Y/N nodded just as she saw her bus approaching. "Are you getting on this one?" she asked him and he squinted. "Nah, not this one. Are you?" She verbally confirmed a yes and turned to look at him fully. "I'll see you later, Mr Barber, bye!" With that, she waved at him and stepped into the bus.

"Andy!" he mouthed when she sat near the window seat, giggling. "Andy," she repeated, winking at him just as the bus turned around the corner. A laugh involuntarily escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. Oh, what am I gonna do with you, angel? Inside the bus, Y/N had to keep herself from fidgeting, too overstimulated after her conversation with the handsome lawyer.

She had had a crush on him ever since he had moved in next-door. Her parents had immediately invited the lone man to dinner and he had, thankfully, accepted. They had a lot of fun; Andy was a proper gentleman, well-spoken, intelligent and extremely handsome. Y/N got a crush on him on the first day itself. She knew about the things his family had been through, and the thought crushed her.

Can't even imagine, your own child, guilty of murder?

Andy and his ex-wife, Laurie had divorced immediately after their son's trial. It was all months ago, though, Andy was doing much better now. He had Y/N, after all. In his thoughts only, but that would suffice. Because he knew, she'd never fall for him. Why would she? He was much older than her, a divorced man, with a son who got convicted for murder.

But Y/N didn't care about any of those things. She liked the Andy who was her awesome, good looking and smart neighbor. That's all that mattered to her. But then came another problem, Y/N's parents. Would they be okay with her going out with him? Of course not! Y/N sighed and leaned her head against the window of the bus; oh God, what ever was she gonna do?

Andy had ruined all men for her.

---

"Come in!"

Looking up, a surprised gasp left the mouths of both; the person inside the office and the person at the door. "Y/N?" Andy blurted out. "Mr Barber?" Y/N blinked as well. "Andy," he corrected incessantly and she waved her arm in dismissal. "Wow, I, uh… I didn't realize— you don't have a name plate outside—" He motioned to the chair in front of him and she sat.

"What happened, darling?"

Y/N unconsciously shivered at the nickname. She loved it when he called her that. "I don't know, my colleague sent me here, she was busy… gave me the address and said there was a file she needed…" Y/N spoke unsurely. Her eyes quickly skimmed over his figure; he had taken off the trenchcoat he was wearing in the morning, leaving him in a tight, white shirt, black trousers and a tie hanging loosely around his neck.

The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Y/N concluded that he looked insanely gorgeous. "Does your colleague happen to be Mrs Renoir? She told me she was coming to get the file." She smiled and nodded at him. "Yes, Mrs Renoir, that's her." Andy smiled back and took out a file from his drawer. "Here you go."

She accepted the file, stowing it away in her bag. "I'll see you!" She moved to get up but Andy tutted, checking his watch. "Why don't you stay, Y/N? It's getting late, we can go home together," he spoke, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. She froze for a moment. "Um, it's fine, I can—" He was shaking his head. "Y/N, if something happens to you, I'll not be able to forgive myself."

What's going on? "Mr Barber—" "Andy." "What do you mean?" He got up from his chair and moved to the couch that was in the room. She sat next to him. "You never stay out this late, Y/N, your parents told me you're usually at home by 8:30. It's almost midnight, and I can't let you venture into the city all alone at this hour. Do you know the dangers that lurk at night?"

Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest. Indeed, this was new to her; and before even meeting with him, she had been scared of roaming the city alone at night. "I don't," she muttered truthfully, looking up when Andy placed his hand on her thigh. "It's okay. You can stay, I just need to go over a few more things and then we can go home, hm?" Y/N grinned and nodded.

Andy lifted his hand off her thigh and went back to his desk. He began scribbling something on a paper, which Y/N realized was a form. After admiring him for a few minutes, she took out her phone and scrolled through her messages. She had already texted her mom about staying out late, and her mother had complained until Y/N told her she was out for business, not fun.

As time passed, Y/N's shoulders sagged. Her eyes drooped, heavy with sleep. "Andy," she whined in a sleepy stupor and his head shot up, "Are you done? I wanna go home!" His dark eyes softened instantly and he chuckled. She looked cute when she was sleepy. "Just a moment, darling, I'm almost finished." Y/N simply groaned and threw her head back against the couch.

"All done."

Y/N opened her eyes and saw Andy fixing his appearance, before shrugging on the coat. Then he turned to her, offering her his hand with a smile. She took it and heaved herself up, stumbling a little but Andy was there to hold her up. Effortlessly wrapping an arm around her waist, he guided her out of his office, switching off the lights and locking the door.

Both of them walked out of the building and Andy got Y/N seated in the passenger seat of his car. "I thought your car was at the auto repair shop?" Y/N remembered. She felt his chuckle next to her ear as he reached over and fastened her seatbelt and then his own. "Went to get it in the afternoon because I realized buses aren't for me." She giggled and leaned back against the seat.

"Why don't you try and fall asleep? I'll wake you up," he whispered, his heart swelling in his chest when she nodded meekly. "Goodnight, Mr Barber." He still corrected her, "Andy." Truth be told, Y/N didn't want to call him Andy because that would only make her feelings worse. If she called him Mr Barber… that was a constant reminder that he was a man much older, a successful lawyer, and just her neighbor.

Nothing else.

"Such a sweet doll." Ever since he heard her whining his name in his office, his mind had clouded over with lust. She sounded so fucking beautiful when she said his name. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was to claim her on his couch. He had controlled himself easily, he knew he had to wait till he had her consent. Which he thought he'd probably never get.

---

"Thank you so much, Andy!"

"Oh, it's not a problem at all, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N is great company and I admit, the house does get a little lonely at times," Andy chuckled as Y/N's mother beamed at him. Y/N was looking down at her feet, clutching the handles of her travel bags. She was going to move in with Andy for a few weeks, since her room was getting renovated. There was no other place in the house.

When Andy heard that, he had instantly offered that she move in with him for the time-being. And Y/N's parents were, surprisingly, ecstatic at the idea. "She can move into the guest bedroom," he had spoken at the time. That's how she ended up here; now following Andy into his house as she yelled her goodbyes to her parents. "Welcome! It isn't much, I hope you like it still."

Y/N looked around in awe. The place was well-kept, the colour theme for almost everything was either beige or brown. It all looked very modern and cool. "Are you kidding? This is awesome!" He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Let me show you to your room." Both of them walked up the stairs and stopped at the first door. Andy opened the door and another gasp left her lips.

"Wow," she whispered automatically and Andy smiled to himself. "I take it that you like it," he drawled, closing the door behind them as they walked into the room. Y/N kept her luggage on the bed and sat down, swinging her legs. "Thanks for all this, Mr Barber, it's appreciated." He scoffed. "Andy," he rectified, "And it was not a problem at all, Y/N, you're my friend."

A chill ran down her spine. His friend? He considered her to be a friend? "A friend, huh, I'm… I'm honored," she chuckled and he grinned. "I'll leave you be now, get comfortable." He waved at her and left the room, going downstairs to get a glass of water for himself. Y/N spent the rest of the day at her place, only returning at nighttime after dinner.

That's how it went for a week. She'd be at her job most days, would have dinner with her parents at night and then would finally walk into Andy's house to get some sleep. She liked the routine, and so did he. When she wasn't at her job, she'd spend the day in the living room of her own, or rather, her parents' house. Only, something changed a week later.

Andy was running late that day. As he drove home, at nearly 1:30 am, he was sure that he was going to be greeted by a quiet and empty house, Y/N already asleep in her room. She always fell asleep before 11:30, he didn't know how she did it. After parking his car in his garage, he walked into the sitting room only to see Y/N sitting in front of the television. She looked up and swtiched it off when he walked in.

"Mr Barber, hi." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Darling, is everything okay?" he asked worriedly, sitting next to her. The dried tear stains on her cheeks made it clear that she had been crying. "I'm fine," she insisted, in vain. Andy gently cupped her cheeks, running his fingers over the stains. "You've been crying, honey, tell me what happened. I'll make it better," he whispered and Y/N melted against him.

"Um, can I… can I please… can I hug you?"

Without another word, Andy pulled her to him, her head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around her middle. She snuggled into his side. "I just had a bad dream," she mumbled, burying her face in his chest. His arm rose and he delicately cradled her head, massaging her hair with his fingers. Y/N whimpered at the soothing sensation and Andy's heart raced.

"I'm here now, sweetheart, you have nothing to be worried about. I'll protect you, come what may," he uttered softly, almost in a daze. Something inside Y/N stirred deeply when he said those words. She pulled away slightly and he looked down at her, a questioning look on his face. Y/N blushed under his intense stare. "I, um… can I… kiss you?" Her question made Andy's heart beat faster.

Consent? Check.

Gently grabbing her jaw, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, pulling her into his lap. Y/N kissed back just as fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" Andy asked huskily upon pulling away. "How long?" Y/N squeaked. "Ever since I first saw you. You won my heart right there, Y/N, right at that dinner. The moment I saw you, I knew that you had ruined all women for me."

"Same. I mean, I— not women, obviously, I'm not attracted to other women— men, but—" Andy chuckled and kissed her again, cutting off her rambling. "God, I need to feel you, love, why don't we go upstairs?" It turned out to be a rhetorical question as he immediately stood up, easily carrying Y/N up the stairs. Y/N wrapped her legs around his torso.

He placed her down on his bed, in his bedroom and settled between her legs, hungrily kissing down her body. He used his tongue to stimulate her first, pulling orgasm after orgasm after her. She had never had these many orgasms in one night and that wasn't lost on Andy. "No one has ever made you feel this good, right, darling? Only I can do it this good." Y/N whined loudly when his tongue circled her bud.

"Bet those nasty boys your age have never made you feel this way. Worshipped. You're mine, Y/N, only mine. Say it." Y/N was too overwhelmed to respond, only a pathetic "yours" leaving her lips as she came again. For the… third? No, fourth time? She definitely lost count. "You're so fucking gorgeous," Andy moaned as he emerged from between her thighs, his jaw and chin covered in her juices.

He had eaten her out so well, like her a hungry man offered a meal after a long starvation. Like she was his last meal. Y/N blushed at the sight of him, covering her face with her hands. Andy easily shoved the hands aside, leaning in to kiss her. "All mine. Beautiful. Mine, only mine," he grunted possessively and Y/N gasped when she felt something poking her thigh. She looked down and saw him. He was giant.

"It's too big," she blurted out and Andy chuckled, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. "You'll be okay." Grabbing the base of his shaft, he slowly pushed inside of her, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/N winced at the burn on her hips but when he bottomed out inside her, all the pain was replaced by pleasure. "Fuck, so fucking tight," Andy helplessly groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"Please, please move." Andy complied, thrusting into her at a slow pace at first but when he was certain she was able to handle it, he sped up. Y/N moaned right into his ear as he nibbled on her neck, leaving behind dark, red marks. Now everyone will know she's taken. The moan fueled his libido and he sped up more, growling deep in his chest.

Y/N's eyes flew open at the animalistic sound and she gripped his shoulders, trying to steady herself as she moved like a rag doll against him and his powerful thrusts. "Scream my name, darling, tell everyone who's making you feel so good. Tell everyone you belong to me and me only. You're mine, all mine. I'm never letting you go," he snarled as he neared his release. "Andy," Y/N screamed shamelessly.

"That's it, doll. Months, for months I've tried to get you to say my name. Is that why you've been avoiding it? Can't help but imagine being under me and moaning my name every time you heard it?" he groaned brusquely and Y/N jerked, her orgasm hitting her unexpectedly. "Yes," she whimpered at his previous comment but Andy couldn't speak. Holy shit, she just squirted all over my bed.

His taut abdomen, his shaft, his thighs and his bed were all drenched. Y/N was lying on the bed, her eyes closed, convulsing as she reeled in from the first-time experience. "Shit, baby, do you see this? You just squirted all over me," Andy laughed breathlessly, leaning over to press his lips to hers. Y/N cocked an eye open as a blush spread across her cheeks.

"I what?! Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"

Andy entered her core with one swift motion, shutting her up. "That was fucking hot, doll, do it again," he urged and resumed his fast pace. Y/N cried out tiredly, her eyes landing on the clock in the corner of the room. It's been an hour?! How much energy does this man have? "Andy, I'm—" He was already close to his release and when she took his name, he was done. He pulled out of her and spilled his seed all over her chest and face, groaning loudly.

Then he spit on his fingers and brought them to her bud, furiously rubbing until she squirted again, right on his face. "Oh my God," Andy groaned, licking up and swallowing all her juices. "Andy, I'm tired…" She couldn't even lift a finger, that's how spent she was.

Andy was a sight. All wet, from top to bottom, covered in her juices, he looked like he had just stepped out of a swimming pool. "Okay, baby girl, get some sleep. I'll take care of you." And he did, he gently cleaned her up as she dozed off, and carried her to her room. He then hopped into the shower for a quick wash, dried himself up, put on some boxers and went to Y/N's room as well.

The bed in his room was… well, let's just say it was done for. He was going to be throwing the mattress out the next day, he knew that. When he walked into her room, his heart melted at the sight of her deep asleep, still naked, curled up on her side. He shut the door behind him and walked towards the bed, easily sliding in next to her. He pulled the covers on top of them and pulled Y/N into his arms, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.

"I love you, angel. So sweet, only mine."

---

A/N: This is the first time I've posted smut and a non-marvel fic 😳 I know it's probably not that good but thanks for reading anyway! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

[chubbyreaderchan]

Kid | Frank Castle x platonic! Reader

Info: Reader is around 15/16 but this is really a father daughter type relationship.

Tw: Mentions of child neglect/abuse and the foster care system, drug use

Frank looked up as Lisa and (Y/n) walked into his house.

"Does your mom know you are here?"

The then 9 year old looked at Frank and nodded. He knew they were lying. This was years before he became the Punisher. He was home for the holidays and (Y/n) may as well be his third child at this point. Not once has he met their parent but he figured they were better off there.

They were a great kid, anyways. Always did their homework, ate all their food when they were over, and were always grateful.

The feelings of fatherhood towards the kid never faded. They practically lived at their house. Maria also saw the kid as her own, enjoying the company of the three kids even when Frank went back on duty.

Then when Frank came back home he noticed they weren't around. Maria smiled at Frank, a bitter sweet smile on her face. Happy to see him, but clearly she was worried. They all seemed to be happy he was home yet they also seemed so distant.

"Hey, baby. What's wrong?" He asked Maria as she sat across from him at lunch, a light smile on her face. It was a fake smile.

Something was off.

"..." She looked down at her cup of tea and then back up at Frank. "Lisa told me that (Y/n) is being put into the foster system," His dark eyes looked at his wife, wondering if her thoughts were the same as his, knowing exactly how it was for Billy. He didn't want that for them. "I was thinking-"

Frank cut her off. "Why don't we offer to take them... They might as well be our kid anyway."

Maria's eyes looked up at him and she smiled. She had already started the process to get them but didn't quite tell him. She was glad she knew her husband well enough to be okay with something like this.

--

Unfortunately, that never happened. Their lives were interrupted. Cut short. Through it all, Frank had forgotten all about them.

That was until he was out late, lurking. Trying to figure out how to pull apart a gang that had been recruiting kids way to young to make smart decisions. Most likely to make them do unthinkable things. It made him sick. He sat in his truck watching as a group were being lead by a guy in a hoodie. It was normal, or rather nothing completely unusual. The plan was to go in and stop whatever ring this was one at a time.

The plan was to take it slow.

That was until his eyes landed on a familiar face.

"Son of a bitch," Frank grunted, tossing the paper cup of cold coffee into the cup holder. It was (Y/n). Shivering. Looking lost and quite scared looking up at the person who he had been trailing. How the hell did he miss that?

It may as well have been his own damn kid being lead into the jaws of hell. He couldn't control himself. Frank shouldered the truck door open just as they began to head in. He rushed just before the heavy metal shut, grabbing (Y/n) by the wrist.

They yelled, hitting him in the chest barely causing Frank to react. "Let me go!"

"Hey, hey!" He whispered not to alert them. The teen looked up at him. They knew that tone. That voice. "Mr. Castle?" Their eyes looked over his slightly beat up face. "Yeah. What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Frank didn't even hesitate as he pulled them to his truck. "Do you know what these people are doing with kids like you?!"

"T-They promised to give me money. Our water got cut off and--. Wait I thought you died..."

That tore Frank up. In a different world he probably would have adopted them by now. "Well, I didn't. Get your ass in the truck" he scolded. They climbed into the truck, shivering. It was like refrigerator in his truck.

"Where's your mom?" Frank turned on the truck, adjusting the heat before removing his own jacket. He put it over their shoulders. "I haven't seen her in days... Months maybe."

They had lost track of time. They had been taking care of themselves, thankful their mother didn't have any other kids.

That news pissed Frank off even more.

"Son of a bitch," he grunted.

Another life was ruined because Billy Russo valued money over lives. Frank should've been taking care of them. The damn kid should have been a Castle. Should have been in school, getting ready to go to college or whatever the hell they wanted. Frank pulled out of the lot. He would have to take care of them in an hour or so. "I'm going to take you to my hotel room. You can stay there."

It must've been a while since the kid had water at wherever they lived since their hair was dirty and their skin had an oily shine. They didn't respond. Part of them wanted to shout how they weren't their dad and so on. At the same time they missed the Castles. They missed Lisa and Frank Jr. They didn't even get to go to their funeral because they were in a shitty foster home.

On the way back to the hotel room, Frank noticed a late night fast food joint. He pulled in, hiding his face as best as he could. "What do you want?" He sat, looking at them. They looked at him surprise on their face, yet it reminded them of those few good times in their life. In a way, it reminded Frank of those times too.

They explained what they wanted. They kept it pretty cheap and Frank went in. "Stay here. I'll be back" he stated before he did. "Keep the door locked and if something happens honk three times,"

--

The drive to the motel room was short from there. Silent. Peaceful. They felt safe with Frank and it was like they were finally coming home to something, despite knowing he probably hasn't been to the original home in years.

(Y/n) watched the news or at least before they had to pawn the tv. "Did you really kill all those people," they asked, now sitting on a bed in a warm room. Frank looked at them, not wanting to drag them into his hell. "Yeah," but lying wouldn't do much for them either. He handed them a bag of fries and a drink. "I gotta go. Stay here. I'll be back soon. Keep the door locked. Watch tv. Take a shower. Just do not leave"

Frank pressed a quick kiss to their forehead. An action he often did with his daughter.

--

The night that (Y/n) thought would be terrifying for money soon became peaceful. They ate. Watched boring night tv and took a shower. Unfortunately they had to put the dirty clothes they had back on but at least their body didn't feel like filth.

Hours later, Frank stumbled in. He had a few new cuts and bruises that littered his face and probably further down. Turned out the group weren't prepared for any attack. He got the kids out and even had time to smash and grab some clothes for the kid.

"Here. I didn't know what size to get you but I figured it was at least big enough to fit you. Better than nothing." He stated, sitting down on the bed.

"I'm sorry,"

They looked up at him. "The clothes are fine--"

Frank shook his head, cutting them off. "I forgot all about our plans. Before..." He hated talking about it. "Before. Maria and I... We were looking into fostering you. Maybe even adopting you. Then... They passed and I forgot. I got so into revenge, (Y/n) I didn't even think about you."

He rubbed some blood from his lip. "You didn't even get to go to the funeral. Lisa was your best friend. Hell, she may as well have been your sister."

"It's okay. I understand," they didn't look up at him.

"I'm going to make it up to you. I can't take you now. I'm in to much shit and I'm to dangerous now but--" he sucked his bottom lip as he brought his thoughts together. "I'm gonna make sure you are damn well taken care of."

Without thought the teen walked over to Frank, hugging him. "Thank you, Mr. Castle," they couldn't help but cry.

[harrysgloves]

This Will Be Our Year

Summary: Harry comes home with you for your family New Year’s dinner.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Language. Shitty families. Smut/ Harry’s got a filthy mouth.

A/N: Okay, lets all pretend that I got this out on Saturday instead of Tuesday... Big shout out to @meetmeinfleetwood for making this “to lovers” fic challenge. It was the first fic challenge I’ve ever done! And I loved trying to figure this one out.

I picked ‘Friends to Lovers’ with the prompts: “You think anyone heard us?” & “You keep that photo of us in your wallet?”

>>>

You didn't miss the upward turn of your best friends' lip when you anxiously readjusted the hem of your dress for the millionth time. You didn't even bother trying to steady your shaky hands as they tugged down on lacy black fabric that touched a few inches above where you normally wore your skirts or shorts

"Stop it." You huffed as he let out the tiniest breath of a laugh at your struggle. 

"Sorry, love, think y'look great." He smiled that lazy half smirk that made your stomach flutter but you had no time to worry about that right now. No, right now, you were on your way to visit your parents for the first time in a year.

The excuses of being busy with work, having no time to travel, not having the money for it, or literally any other excuse you could come up with had finally stopped working. Your mother fully demanded for you to come back home for the traditional New Year's dinner your family had every first weekend of the new year. You would have said no, but the second her disappointed voice floated in from the other end of the phone, you knew there was no way out. 

You deeply loved your immediate family. It was the extended family that you could go without. The bitchy cousins who always seemed to be doing better in life than you. Know-it-all Aunts who gave you unwelcomed dating advice or worse, they'd sit and examine why you didn't have a man 

"Yeh sure 'bout this?" He asked from the driver seat, his hand grasped on the wheel so tight you could see his knuckles turning white. "We could fake sick or somethin' if yeh want out. Bad gas station sushi, maybe."

A smile broke across your solemn face. The snort of a laugh that creaked out of your lungs washed a bit of relief over Harry. His hands gently lifted pressure from the wheel.

"Gas station sushi is the best you could come up with?" You teased from beside him, head turning just in time to see that dimpled smile you loved so much. 

"Wha' not believable?" He grinned, playful green eyes shot your way before focusing back on the road. 

You shook your head no as silence fell over the car again. Only one more turn and you'd be there.

"If yeh get uncomfortable, just tug on my shirt and we'll go, yeah?" He said as the gravel from your parents driveway crunched under the car's weight. Your stomach churned at the sight of everyone else already there. Anxiety flaring deep inside of your body, your chest suddenly felt tighter even when you let out a deep breath.

"It'll be okay." Harry said after a moment of letting you try to calm down. His ring filled hand enveloped your own shaky hand that rested on your lap. A calm washed over you from his touch. His warm hands melted away the troubled feeling that was lurking in the depths of your soul.

"I'm sorry in advance for whatever they say." You mumbled, giving his hand a squeeze. You missed the small up turn of his lips from your action, the way his cheeks tinted the softest shade of pink. You thought his cough was to dismiss what you'd said, not knowing it was him trying to himself that you only saw him as a friend.

"'M pretty sure I can handle them, love." He smiled even though you shot him a very unimpressed look. "Wha'? I survived Simon Cowell, think I got yeh family." 

"Shut up." You chuckled as you brushed your hand off your leg. The other flung open the car door before you had a chance to chicken out.

>>>

Dragging Harry along for this dinner was the best idea you'd ever had in your whole life. Your family's attention was so far off you that you barely talked the hour before dinner and Harry was handling all the attention like a champ. His hand pressed to your lower back as your uncle grilled him about every famous person he'd ever met.

"Wait, so you're telling me that you know The Mick Jagger?" Your uncle looked a second away from breaking into a full out fangirl attack. Your lips rolled in your mouth to stifle the laugh that was bubbling in your throat before a harsh squeeze on your hips from Harry had you glaring daggers into him.

He nodded his head full of soft flowly curls, that you always wanted to run your fingers through, before shooting a smirk down to you. 

He was living for this. He loved being able to touch you, lead you around to talk to people. Adored when you playfully shoved him with your shoulder when he said something embarrassing about you. He tried to be as cool, calm, and collected as he could but when you fully leaned into his side his breathing caught in his throat. His hand pressed tighter into you, mostly to hide how much it was quivering from your closeness.

He had tried for over a year to come up with a way to tell you he wanted to be more than a friend. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to be more since the night you two met, but he was too insecure about himself to speak up. You were just so vibrant. Your laugh, your smile, the way you talked with demand but was always such a sensitive soul. 

He was absolutely fucked for you and you had no damn idea.

You always thought he was too out of your league to even begin to entertain the want of something else with him. He was the great Harry Styles and well, you were just you. You, who happened to be friends with Glenne, who dragged you to a bar for a karaoke night almost two years ago. The rest between you and him was history. You'd gotten along so well and at first, you thought, it might have turned into something more, but he never tried anything more than stupid flirty banter which he seemed to do with just about anyone. So, you dropped it. Moved on. Now he was just Harry, you're really good, super hot, you may think about him when you meditate late at night, friend.

"Gonna get more wine." You said after you drank the last drop from the glass in your hand. You were going to need so much more wine if you were going to be listening to your uncle for the next 45 minutes until dinner was ready.

"Will y'bring me some too?" Harry asked with a glimmer of desperation in his eyes. You figured maybe he'd need the alcohol more than you did tonight. He had been putting up with a lot of crap from your family. 

You nodded your head yes before taking off through the hallways you used to run down when you were a kid, towards the kitchen. Your mind lost in a hazy of memories of you learning to ride your bike on your mothers freshly polished floors while the babysitter sat on your house phone with her boyfriend all night. The time your brother told you carving your names into the fancy trim along the bottom of the floor meant you two would live forever. 

The memories came to a screeching halt when you finally rounded the corner to the kitchen. Your cousin aka the bitch you hated most in the world lounged casually on the counter, her back towards you as she chatted with a friend she had brought along.

"Didn't think I was going to meet Harry fucking Styles. Would have at least done my hair." The girl you didn't know huffed out as you pressed your back to the wall. Desperate to get away from both of them. Suddenly you felt 12 again, hiding from Shannon before she had a chance to torment you.

"Not like you even need it. You already look better than Y/N without it." Shannon snorted out that nails-on-a-chalkboard laugh as your stomach sank. 

"True, girl is a bit mousy." 

"Don't forget annoying. Can't believe someone famous is hanging out with her."

A part of you wanted to turn around and walk away, but the other part was morbidly interested in what she said behind your back. Maybe, whatever she had to say, was what everyone said about you two when you weren't around.

"Think they're dating?"

"Fuck no." She scoffed with so much certainty behind her voice it made you cringe. You knew it was a bit dumb, especially since you tried to not picture yourself with him as much as possible but it still hurt. "Y/N's boring and bland as hell. He's probably too nice to tell her that he isn't interested and he feels bad that she never has any friends or a boyfriend." 

You knew you should have walked away when you had the chance. Every word that was uttered by the voice that caused your childhood trauma floated into your mind with daggers. 

Every bad thing you thought about yourself. Every reason you thought Harry would never like you was now confirmed by someone else.

"It's like his charity work for the year or something."

The last sentence was the one that broke you. Your eyes filled with tears as your feet finally unglued themselves from the permanent spot they seemed to be in. You ran for the safety of your childhood bedroom. Your mind too preoccupied with the thought that maybe, he did feel that way about you, to pay attention to anything else around you. You didn't register that Harry was only a few feet away from you when you slammed yourself into your old room.

The knocks on your door didn't bother you. You could care less to explain to our mom right now about what happened but tried your best to pull yourself together anyways. Your crying turned to quite sniffling when the knocks came again.

"Y/N, wha's wrong?" His anxious voice echoed through your door causing all tears or sniffles to stop immediately in their tracks. What the hell were you going to tell him? Your mind panicked for some lie you could use to cover up the fact you had a breakdown when the door opened, the hard metal of the door knob pushed you out of the way.

"'M sorry fo' comin' in but I saw yeh cryin' and I had to check on yeh." He mumbled uncomfortably from beside you as he shut the door again. "Wha' happened?"

"'S nothin'," you said as you dried your own eyes with the back of your hand. "Just, my cousin saying shit. I just took it a bit too personal for no reason." 

"'M sorry, petal." He cooed as his hand stroked the rest of your eyes off your cheeks away. Your head instantly nuzzled into his warmth. "Wha' was she goin' on 'bout?"

You tried your best to not tense up. Your eyes remained shut, head buried harder against his hand that still hadn't moved from your face.

"Told you, it's nothing. Really, it was dumb and I just- it's stupid H." 

"'S not stupid if it made y'cry." He frowned deeply as he lifted your chin up. Your eyes finally fluttered open to see disappointed written all across his face.

"She just-" you sighed, feeling dumb for being caught up in the moment. Her words stung but your knee-jerk reaction to cry was a bit over the top. You were embarrassed, your skin heated as his eyes trained on you. You desperately tried to look anywhere but him- the floor, the dresser, the door- anywhere. "She just… she said some things to her friend about how boring and bland I am. Said I had no friends and blah blah blah. Just dumb stuff." 

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable talking about what had happened. You gave him the geist of it without having to divulge into the whole story. You figured it was better to leave the part about you being charity work for him out of it. An angry Harry was the last thing you wanted to deal with today.

"Yeh the least boring person I know." He said, finally breaking the silence. "And yeh far from bland. I mean, look at yeh," he gestured to your outfit, his eyes sparked as your face heated from the attention he was giving you.

"Shut up." You groaned, hands covering your burning face as he wrapped you up in a hug. His chest vibrated with chuckles as you buried your head into the crook of his arm.

"Come on, don't be embarrassed." His chin rested on your head as you fought to keep the pink blush across your face at bay. "Know I think yeh pretty. Prettiest petal've ever met." 

You could feel his body straighten up. Almost as if he got uncomfortable with being so forward with you. His hands held around you just a bit tighter and you could physically hear his heart start to race. You started to realize, maybe, just maybe, you'd been reading all the signs wrong.

You pulled away from him slightly, your lips rolled in your mouth as you peered up to him. The blush that lingered across his nose ran to both cheeks. His jaw clenched together, shifty eyes finally met yours after a long moment of avoiding your gaze. You could see gears turning in his mind.

"H?" You barely breathed out before he surged forward, his lips met yours with so force you were almost thrown off balance. Your hands quickly grabbed on his forearms to steady yourself. Your nails dug into the soft silk fabric of his sleeves as your mouth desperately tried to keep up with his frantic movements.

It was everything you'd ever imagined kissing Harry would be like. Soft, amazing lips pressed to yours. Warmth flooded your system, almost like he was bringing you back to life. His hand rested on your cheek as he pulled you closer, other hand around your waist, helping you keep balance on your tiptoes. Even if it was a bit rushed, it was perfect to you.

But then you felt him go rigid again.

"I shouldn't 'ave done that. 'M so sorry, Y/N, I know yeh don't like me like that and I got caught up and, and-nd, fuck 'm so sorry-" he rushed out in a ramble the second his lips parted from yours. Your eyes barely opened by the time he'd finished his rushed out speech. His hands ran nervously through his curls. Panic radiated off him.

"Who said I didn't like you?" You asked, halfway out of breath. His hands fell from his perfectly messy hair, down to his side. His mouth gaped open as he blinked slowly at your words.

"I, well, I thought-" He trailed off as you both stood there completely dumbfounded. 

You'd both liked each other this whole damn time.

"We're idiots." You giggled. Quickly ceasing the opportunity to close to space between you two again. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him to your level. This time, he was the one pleasantly surprised. The light humph out of him only fueled your fire as you dominated the kiss. Your tongue ran across his bottom lips, begging him to let you in. Tongues danced together in an unknown language as his arms circled you again. Holding you close as your fingers ran through the back of his hair.

It was quick. Both of you moved so fast, desperate for more. More touch, more skin contact. You felt that desire you'd pushed to the side flame to the surface as you both stumbled for balance. Your back was pressed tightly against the door after you both got your footing. 

Kissing was easy, but kissing passionately in an unknown space when you could give two shits-less about anything but each other, was hard. 

It wasn't long before the scruff on his face was burning into your sensitive and puffy lips. He'd taken over control over your mouth so long ago you had no idea where you started and he ended. Your hands, along with his, roamed uncharted territory of each other's bodies. Small gasps and light whimpers were flooding the room but you couldn't be bothered with caring right now. You were finally getting what you wanted, him.

"We should stop." He groaned, half annoyed with himself for trying to be considerate to your family. His forehead rested against yours as you both breathed in deeply.

You whined in protest at his words, your hips involuntarily grinded against him in a sense of desperation. He had winded you up like a damn play toy. He breathed a laugh at your neediness, his head shaking but you could see those dimples popping out when you stared up at him with doe-eyes. 

"Don't wanna fuck yeh fo' the first time in your parents house, lovie." He smiled widely as you let out a disappointed huff. Sure, you understood his point but that throbbing in core wasn't going to be going away any time soon. 

Harry considered it for a moment as he looked down to your glistening chest that was heaving in deep breaths. The swells of your breast had always been mesmerizing but, fuck, right now they look irresistable. His sight finally moved off your chest to your swollen and puffy mouth. He groaned at the sight, his mind instantly wondering if your other lips would look as beautiful when he was done with them.

His hand moved on it's own accord. Slipping up your dress, to your absolutely drenched panties. Your lip tucked under your lip, hips bucking in a need for more when you heard the most glorious moan fall from his lips.

"Can't leave y'like this, now can I, pup?" His lust filled eyes seemed to darken when you shook your head no. Your ruined underwear pushed to the side by his fingers, his breathing catching in his throat from just how fucking wet you were.

You whimpered and whined as he took his time leisurely circling around your clit, his finger skimming across your needy hole only teased you further. You could feel your nipples pebble against the roughness of your bra, feeling left out of the action, but you weren't complaining. 

"Quiet, or yeh gonna get us caught, sweetheart." Harry tried to scold you but you didn't miss the smug look of pride that sat on his lips. "Gonna have to keep you quiet, sweet girl." His free hand moved from the door, to your mouth. Three fingers tapped against your lips for you to open and holy fuck, you didn't think this would be happening today. 

A chill went down your spine as his fingers sat heavy on your tongue. He licked his lips as he watched you mimicked how good you'd suck him off later when two fingers entered you quickly.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathed out, the situation in his pants grew impossibly bigger while you moaned wildly against his fingers. "Jesus, fuck, yeh so tight. Gonna 'ave to prep yeh fo' me later, sweetheart."

You could barely register his words as he pumped into you again. His thumb pressed against your aching numb. He was reaching places inside of you that you'd never been able to reach. Places that you had no idea could feel this good. All sense of control left you as he hit that spot. His hand quickly pulled from your mouth to cup over top of it.

"Sing so pretty fo' me, puppy. Can't wait to hear how you sound when y'on my cock." Your walls quivered at his words, your juices dripped further down your leg as you began to quickly approach your end.

"'M ruin this little pussy later, gonna fuck y'until yeh can't handle it anymore." He started to ramble about how good you felt, how tight you were, how he was going to stretch you over his cock so good tonight that he'd ruin you. Your legs started to shake as your mind melted into a goo of pleasure. 

"Fuck, yeh like when I talk to yeh like that, don't yeh sweetheart?" You weakly nodded at his words, his hand around your mouth making it impossible to say anything but it wasn't like you'd be able to speak right now anyways. His fingers curled inside of you, pumping, his thumb switching from light touches to hard pressure. "I'd let y'talk to me like that later tonight but my dick is gonna be shoved in all the holes I can get into, puppy."

You could feel your eyes roll into the back of your head as the overwhelming flood of your release washed over you. Blinding white lights of adrenaline ran through your veins as you let out a guttural moan from a depth you had no idea existed inside of you.

You were a panting hot mess when his hands finally left your body. Sweet kisses pressed to your lips to calm you down.

"Do y'think anyone heard us?" Harry asked, his lips still hovering over your mouth as you let out a croak laugh.

"You think I care about that right now?" Your eyebrows raised as you peered up to him. His smile growing by the second as he wrapped you in a hug. "Come on, let's go, you have a few promises you made about tonight that I want to hold you to." You giggled as his cheeks flamed red, your hand reached for his but he didn't move. His boy glued in place as his eyes scanned around your old room.

"What?" You asked as you turned around to see him studying every inch of your childhood. 

"I didn't get to see it earlier." He shrugged a bit, trying to not seem like he was hyper focused on every detail. Your pile of old notebooks your mother kept "just incase you ever wanted them again", your old dresser that you'd painted at some point, your rose pattern bedspread, the mountain of books and magazines that were shoved away.

"Wha's this?" He pointed to the huge wall that was covered in nothing but pictures. 

"Oh, uhm, I used to put pictures of me and my friends on my wall. You know, like people used to do before Facebook." Harry chuckled as he shook his head at you. His hand fished into his back pocket as he moved away from you.

"What- what are you doing?" You asked, your eyebrows furrowed tightly together as you moved towards him. The picture of your and Harry's drunken photo booth session from New Year's last year in his hand.

"You keep that photo of us in your wallet?" You finally asked after he pinned it on your wall. His cheeky smile across his face as he threw an arm over your shoulder.

"Yup." He smiled widely as you chuckled from beside him. Your arm rested around his waist.

"Dork."

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid. 

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be. 

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you. 

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right? 

Wrong. 

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital. 

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath. 

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.” 

“Not obvious.” 

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.” 

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in. 

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.” 

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.” 

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity. 

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?” 

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it. 

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing. 

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.” 

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.” 

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.” 

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” 

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents. 

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator. 

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him. 

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”  

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.” 

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens. 

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.” 

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.” 

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending. 

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt. 

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him. 

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree. 

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?” 

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!” 

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.” 

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin. 

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.” 

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.” 

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’ 

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.” 

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.” 

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges. 

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed. 

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.” 

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” 

 He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.” 

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.” 

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.” 

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.” 

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?” 

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!” 

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!” 

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.” 

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.” 

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.” 

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?” 

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.” 

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to. 

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.” 

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?” 

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing. 

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house. 

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

taglist:  @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai

[herstarburststories]

tolerate it

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: your love for Dean used to be celebrated, but now he tolerates it.

A/N: here it is, hunters! First fic of the year, wow! I hope you guys like it! Based on Taylor's song tolerate it. Also requested by @ashleyygeza!

Warnings: so much angst, language, smut

There was this thing you always liked to do. It was mostly the learned behavior of a child that grew up in motel rooms. It was usual for the adult that called a bunker her home, too. You’d lay on your back, staring at the light on the ceiling and squint your eyes to the point the glimmering white light could be mistaken as the moon. You never thought you’d end up doing that to people as well.

It used to be something so sensual and sequin back then, but now the fact that he's so much older and wiser only makes you quiet. You see his bruised hands and worried glances; the stubble on his face growing as his sense of self starts to fade with borrowed time. Dean used to love you in screaming colors; now he just sits in silence reading with his head low, researching the next case under the dim light while you watch him. Sam can't seem to stand slow deaths either -- he just clears his throat and leaves the bunker with the empty excuse of a supply run. 

Still, you remain here. You stand still like a good ornament in Dean's collection of lovers. It seems like it's a matter of time until he leaves you too. Yet, you’re sitting and watching him, and you can't help but wonder if you aren't just another wrinkle on his face. You’d been a memory of something worth dying for, once, but now you were starting to believe you were just another battle scar; marred skin that had spent so long settling that he didn’t even notice the scarification anymore. 

Hours pass as quickly and emotionally draining as dry heaving. His huffs of annoyance and thirsty fingers of whiskey were difficult to ignore. The eldest Winchester doesn’t dare to approach you; to throw those dust-collecting books away and make love to you with dumbfounded grins and breathless groans like he had done so many times before. That was when you were a complete person and not just the husk of a lover destroyed. Once you held the strength of Jeanne d'Arc, now you sit and wait for a man to love you back. You’d be disgusted by your weakness if you had any pity left to spare.

If you look at someone too much you can confuse it with love. And if you already love someone and keep looking, you might waste all the rose-colored visions love could create. Maybe that's what happened to Dean. It’s a treacherous game, and it seems like he’s winning. Perhaps it’s your fault, your snide mind speculates against your will. You should try harder.

You don’t miss Dean’s hidden sigh of relief when the door makes a noise, announcing Sam’s return. How could you? You notice everything he does or doesn't do. At first, you fantasized that, even if it started getting messy before, he was pushing you away because of the whole fighting God problem, now you aren’t so sure. The clues were all over the place when Chuck was gone. Dean smiled at Sammy as if there was no tomorrow and said we’re finally free without sparing a glance at you. When they-- when he started building other worlds, where were you? That long-fraught, battle-ridden past of the Winchesters might be gone, but the more you try to turn the page, the more they stick to each other.

‘’Sammy,” his gruff voice says. It is the first word in hours that wasn’t half-hearted mumbles agreeing with your occasional comments or the tuneful hum of a classic rock song between reading and drinking. ‘’Did you bring any bacon?’’

‘’Yeah, but they need cooking--’’ Sam interrupts his brother, already familiar with this conversation. Dean’s half-open mouth and wiggling brows meant one thing. He was such a kid sometimes. ‘’And no. I’m not frying this cardiac embolism waiting to happen for you, dude.’’

You get up, aiming a smile at the long-haired hunter. ‘’Don’t worry, I can cook it. I was gonna make some pasta anyway.’’

Sam slightly nods before tilting his head towards you. ‘’You sure?’’

‘’Yeah. My butt’s already sore from the research. Those chairs aren’t that comfortable.’’ You scrunched up your nose with a good-humored grimace. 

‘’Okay, thanks.’’ You nod, throwing a last glance at Dean, who barely moved since you got in the conversation. You turn around, walking to the kitchen when Sam’s voice reverberated through. Deciding to overhear against all your sense of privacy, like a schoolgirl in the bathroom, you lean against the wall. You can’t believe the point you got to at those moments, but the answer to the question Sam asks may be the solution for your personal tophet. ‘’What’s up with you?’’

Dean doesn’t seem phased by his brother’s prodding. ‘’What do you mean?’’

Sam arches his eyebrows. ‘’No butt jokes?’’

At least you aren’t going crazy here. Even Sammy noticed something peculiar about Dean and you. There had to be an explanation or reason.; something broken that you could fix.

‘’I’m a grown-ass man, Sam.’’ He scoffs as you heard the chair being pushed. You nibble on your bottom lip, catching your breath as they continue.

‘’Yeah, sure,” the younger man snaps sarcastically. Dean rolls his eyes. ‘’Actually researching when I leave you two alone? Come on, Dean. Did you guys argue or something?’’

‘’We are just fine.’’ His boots scuffing against the wood floor makes a well-known melody, just like Sam’s loud sigh. You know him; he thinks this his brother’s way to avoid the subject and run away. You can’t say you don’t agree with that.

‘’Dean…’’

“I’m gonna take a shower. I spent two hours reading. I gotta get ready for my bacon.’’ It is a simple answer that made your heart spin like a girl in a brand new dress. You had the sudden realization that at least he spent those hours with you, right? Deadly in his quietude, but he was there. Women always are excellent at convincing themselves that crumbs are a whole meal. Therefore, convince yourself this is enough.

You hear the creaking under his strong, heavy steps as he leaves, and a couple more from Sam as well. Ultimately, you turn around, clapping your hands together as you glare at the food still waiting to be made. You give yourself a comforting smile as you speak: ‘’Time to get to work.’’

Then you go. You pace around the kitchen, preparing the lunch with everything you have. Make it perfect, make it delicious. Fuck, even make it deluxe with pre-made bacon and vegan pasta on a Tuesday afternoon. It’s so silly how you make such a lavish effort with the smallest things only to maybe catch a glimpse of his attention. As if Dean would see, truly look at you again. You gave him the best you had, and when you ran out of that, you gave him what was left too. 

The pasta is smelling good. You two used to be each other's better halves, but since the coin had been tossed, you are now each other’s worst reflections. He’s your coldness; the gelid nature that was so useful as a weapon to hurt those who came before him. The ignorance, the lack of care for the ones who claimed to cherish you with their ripped out chests and open hands. You can see you in the way he moved, told white lies and walked away. All the most brutal aspects that your soul built through the years. You almost burn your hand, but at least it isn’t his bacon. And in you, you hold all Dean hated in himself lately. The clingy behavior, always urging to serve and make someone else happy. So needy for a gentle touch, one single proof that his lurking was wrong and he was worthy, that he could be loved someday if he just tried hard enough. Desperate in earge for aprovation, just like you grabbing the Men Of Letters’ sumptuous tapestry and the elegant candle holder, laying the table with the fancy shit.

‘’Wow.’’ Sam says once he arrives in the dining room. Dean refrains his reaction to arching his eyebrows in an unspoken question: what the fuck is happening there?

‘’Is the queen visiting us or somethin’?’’ You catch the pissed off glare that Sammy gives him, yet the older Winchester just shrugs. His little brother had the same eyes as him in many aspects, he had to agree that all those snobby objects were too much.

Unbothered, too used to his butch nature, you chortle. ‘’I just thought we deserved some nice things tonight.’’

Dean hums before adding: ‘’As long as there’s bacon.’’

Sam praises how good the sauce you made tastes. Of course, Dean just nods and agrees with a grumble, not even taking a second glance at you. He doesn’t notice that you are watching him, neither does he compliment your cooking. You never get the reaction you expect from him. Not a thank you, or a true smile, or even a drop of love in the saliva of his kiss, but you keep trying. Just like he tried to make daddy proud for so long. You both should know that's not how it works, but who can argue with a broken child mosaic in an adult damaged heart?

The green eyed man purposely sets the scene in a manner that his brother would be between the two of you. And yes, you manage to double cross this signal and sit down on another chair by his side. Although, when your elbows accidently meet during the homemade feast, Dean doesn’t look at you with the lopsided grin that you love so much. He doesn’t lean in to steal a kiss. Instead, he moves to the side discreetly. You were the roots of hope once, the one who could grow inside him and wrap around his organs for some relief of the hematoma and blood. The Winchester held the arm that pulled you closer and made sure you would stay. But he no longer touches you and the plants died of thirst and you are still here. In these moments, your trick mind asks: why are you still here? You can’t answer.

The lunch goes by filled with your and Sam’s chatter, Dean’s loud chewing and Miracle’s ocasional barks until there’s no food or reasoning to postpone staying together. All the three of you raise up, adamantly ignoring the strange atmosphere. 

‘’We’re leaving in an hour.’’ It’s all Dean says before leaving the room. Sammy dares to squeeze your shoulder softly before following his older brother’s path. With a suspire, you collect all the plates and lead to the kitchen again, starting to put the 60 minutes to good use. Polish plates until they gleam and glisten, maybe Dean will sneak in and wrap his arms around you, press a kiss to your neck and tell you to go to bed, that he will take care of the dishes. He used to do that. This was then and this is now. It’s easy to get lost in the tangles of time.

Of course he doesn’t. Though the hunter shows up with a bag and shouts from the living room for you to hurry up, so you do. Sleeping in the backseat of Baby through the streets of the United States, you wake up with Sam gently shaking your shoulder. Dean is already inside the restaurant. You try not to think too much about it, he could’ve been needing to hit the bathroom or something. As you and the youngest Winchester enter the establishment, four trained eyes fall on your boyfriend and the waitress, who’s clearly leaning forward to make her cleavage more evident. You two pace towards the table just in time to hear the end of their conversation. 

‘’Call me if you need anything.’’ The name tag says that the brunette is called Andressa. She's tall, tan and beautiful, smiling in a way that you never can never conquer. You miss having that confidence, how you’d walk in a room and be sure people would stop and stare. Remember when you used to be like that?

‘’Betcha.’’ He gives her a lopsided grin, the one that used to be directed to you. Andressa winks at him and leaves, swapping her hips in the most seductive way, which catches Dean's eyes like it's the whole Aurora Boreal and not just a woman's ass.

‘’Nice shirt, yeah?’’ You take his indiscretions all in good fun. Dean, though, takes a deep breath and wipes his face, as if he's the one with the right to be annoyed in this situation. It's so stupid how you keep making yourself smaller to fit in whatever expection is comfortable for him. At some point you'll disappear-- but hey, no body no crime. You attempted to explain yourself, ‘’I was just kidding.’’

He tightens his mouth into a thin line. ‘’I know.’’

‘’I saw one on Shein.’’

‘’Come on, Y/N.’’ The green eyed hunter scoffed. ‘’That’s like, Belladonna’s boobs sort of thing.’’

It’s so stupid how his opinons can change your whole weekend, as if your emotions were some sort of board game that Dean played by his own rules. You hang your head low, playing with the menu. You can ‘’Yeah, you’re right. It was dumb.’’

‘’That’s not what I---’’ He stopped himself with a deep inhale. Why did it seem easier for him to criticize than compliment you? You are using your best colors for his portrait of stares, yet all you gain are vacant side eyes. That man killed for you, and now every second by your side seemed to be murdering him. ‘’You’d look good on it.’’

You decide not to go on the next hunt, give both of you a break from the grey skies that always seem to suppress you and Dean. What if you two just need time apart? You live together, work together, and even have the same group of friends. Putting the whole monsters and multiple deaths aside, it was pretty much like a normal relationship. You must just need some time alone to miss each other. So you start going on less and less hunts. God, past you’d hate that scared little girl act, begging to be seen like a shiny toy.

Your cell phone buzzes, causing a smile besides the burning anticipation building up in your veins, crawling under your skin like a million little stars, or bugs. It depends on how you choose the perspective, no surprise you’d go for the romantic one. Well, it's a text from Dean. Plaid and crude: getting home in ten minutes. Why’d you be unpleasantly anxious about that? He’s your boyfriend and he’s coming home after a week! Your fingers dance around the keyboard before answering a sweet waiting for you, with a couple hearts in the byline.

You get his favorite burger and a whiskey older than you in the Deancave, which is settled up with a three hours marathon of Scooby-Doo. It was always so adorable when Dean and you made bets to see who’d guess the episode villain first. Even his hot dog pants and his robe are on the armchair. As for you, you are waiting by the door like you’re just a kid, in a vat to greet him with a battle’s hero welcome. One, two, three, minutes piling up as uncountable as the hidden tears that you cry each week in after the city’s asleep. Let’s be fair, you should’ve seen this coming from a mile away. What was the last time Dean accomplished something he promised to you? He doesn’t even reply to your text message asking if he was okay. Minutes trapped into hours, and you’re sitting with your back to the wall, right next to the door he should have burst out long ago. Time’s ticking, your mind is so tired and your body is sore; it’s exhausting to love someone like this, so you take a rest when sleep wins your hopeful, unclever thoughts.

Dean arrives one hour later, an oral scarlet letter on his tongue that tastes like beer and unregrettable priorities, an apologist expression accompanied of a very grumpy-ish Sam as the door is pushed open. The short haired hunter purses his plump lips at the sad sight; you sleeping on the floor next to the door, probably waiting for him. Maybe he should've answered your text earlier and not just rolled his eyes and ordered another drink. What a suburban mistake for a Winchester.

Dean doesn't turn around to face Sammy; his brother made his opinion on that matter very clear during their roadtrip. Instead, his aching body just leans in and picks you up bridal style — that would've made him smile in the gentlest way his blood-stained mouth and sharp teeth could, eye dipping with joy and a silent promise for the future, but now that only gets a stoic expression as he walks towards your shared room. 

He dares to sigh. There you go, taking too much space and time. This might be a deceiving concept dappled with melancholic nostalgia, but to take space and time wasn’t a trouble before. Dean once worshiped the light-hearted emotion you could bring out his inner little monster - or his soul, whatever you wanna name it. The time wrapped around your finger as he was, and things were just good. Raw good. Yet, now he sees it; time’s always running, and so is him. It’s no surprise the heart he was holding fell and was left behind at some point of the race.

The hunter bumps on the door with his shoulder, leading inside the bedroom and placing you on the mattress. Your body can’t help but to cling to him as you mumble in your sleep; maybe it’s your fond memory, used to Dean’s body seeking some human contact only in the middle night.

Clicking his tongue, he pulls away. The movement is docile, just enough to wake you up. Dean can’t help but to groan at this.

‘’You came back.’’ You murmur, while Dean adjusts on the spot next to you in bed.

Arching his eyebrows with some comedic background, he answers: ‘’Of course I did. I live here.’’

Live. You wouldn’t call what he does living. More like a ghost hunting his old house when you are around. Or maybe you were the ghost and sure, most people would run away from it, but Dean always goes looking for the supernatural beings anyway. Unnerving that he’d make someone he loved out of one.

‘’Why didn’t you pick up the phone? I was worried.’’

He shrugs and kisses your hand. ‘’Was busy.’’

It’s a poor excuse, but those are all that have been holding you two together lately.

Here it is. Your inner anger for being treated wrong, the mad woman inside you scratching to come back. He has been treating you like a coat in Texas’ summer, like a stained flannel, like a forgotten feeling. You deserve more than this. You are so much more than this. Who he thinks he is?

But he has those green eyes that cried single man tears, and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek. And you love that man so.

Instead, you smile and reach out for his hand. ‘’I missed you.’’

Dean doesn’t answer. He restricts any emotion to a grin, and suddenly you are under him. He pushes his lips against yours in a desperate act of recovery, to gain back what he somehow lost through the way. The green eyed man might not find his love in you, but there’s something else he can work with; luxury. Love was always harder to spell than lust anyway. To you, the way he howls against your lips is love. To him, it’s the confirmation of the absence of it. But he can’t let go.

Your hands and his, still together coaxing each other into giving in. It’s so easy that way. Dean rushes to rip your t-shirt, gaining a laugh out of your and a kiss to his jaw. He’s out of his pants before you can even pull away to assist him. The male catches your earlobe, kissing that sweet spot to make you whimper his name.

‘’Dean.’’

Your wince, his shirt is tossed away, just like your skirt. You aren’t wearing a bra, and quickly your cherry panties are pulled apart with a simple move of his finger.

‘’Gonna make you feel so good, babe.’’ His index finger is shoved inside your tight cunt. You throw your head to the back, spreading your legs open. You want to beg him to make you feel anything good, for him to be the reason of the holy and not hollow, just this once. ‘’You are so wet--’’ Another finger, they move inside of you in an attempt to find the right spot. ‘’So fucking tight for me. I’ve fucked you so many times and you’re still so tight.’’ Dean’s thumb caressed your clit as he licked his lips, relishing how you squirm and whine his name. What a good girl. ‘’Can’t wait to fuck you.’’

It doesn’t take much longer. The eldest Winchester quickly replaced his skilled fingers with his pulsating cock. His member begged to be inside you, squeezed by those warm and tight walls. Your pussy was always so good for him, taking him so nice. Dean moans at the sensation, his hand losing yours to hold the bedpost, his thrusting wildly against yours.

No more praising words, no more foreplay. He comes to get what he wants and you’re willing to give. He used to touch you like a priceless wine, now his hands are hustled and careless like you are just another bottle of cheap beer. Dean fucks himself into you and you can’t do anything but groan in pleasure. Sometimes the hurting can be delicious, too.

You crave more, though. Your hands, tiny compared to his, meet Dean’s back, nails digging into the bare skin in a reminder I’m here, you’re still mine. Your legs wrapped around his torso, which only caused his moves to go faster and more ferocious, destroying your needy cunt for any other. It feels so good to have him inside you, fucking you up to the point you are an inchorent ball of cum and sweat. He’s gonna get you there, it’s certain, Dean always does.

His thumb comes back to your vagina, digital press to your clit as he attacks your neck. You try to move your head and get those plump lips against yours, but he sounds like an animal, increasing his rhymin and sucking your tender skin.

Everything is so hurried and irrational and not intimate. He comes inside of you after your own release, marking you up with his orgasm. As soon as he’s dones, he crawls out of you and lays on his back. Sure, you come around and rest your weary head on his chest, but that’s what it is. Deep silence. Not the one where love or magic or whatever Aphrodite is made of fills the void and makes the lovers comfortable. No, this one is visceral, like a chuckle empty of joy. It’s like the tie of gold that tried you two were tangled and ripped. Your love should be celebrated, but he tolerates it. He tolerates everything you do. He tolerates your presence. 

The wrath sneaks in smoothly and astute. You aren’t just one night stand or a sweetheart. How can Dean act like you are? You lift your head and watch him breathing with his eyes closed. It’s so brutal, emotionally violent how you are aware that he’s only doing that not to have pillow talk. Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over your barbed wire? Easily misplaced by the one who threw your boundaries away and out the trap there nowadays. You made him your temple, you mural, your sky, now you’re begging for footnotes in the story of his life.

In the rare cracks of lucidity, you picture what would happen if you did what your old, better self would do. Dean appears to assume you are fine, but what would he do if you break free and leave you two in ruins, took this dagger in you and removed it, gain the weight of you then lose it? He was so comfortable with you. Maybe he didn’t think you would ever do that, but there’s just so much a woman with your determination and cleaverity can take. Believe, I could do it. You did it before with others. Sometimes you need to leave to breathe. Perhaps it's time. 

But then, he embraces you. Just like that, all your doubts and fears and bruises caused by his kisses are reduced to paranoia. You decide maybe you got it wrong somehow. Not even blinking at the thought that Dean enjoys cuddles. No, he’s pulling you closer and snucking his nose into your hair because he loves you. Convince yourself. You are majestic with lies, it gets surprisingly facile to tell them when you nuzzle into the Winchester’s neck like his smell is some sort of placebo.  

You aren't tiptoeing around it, or even stepping on the doubts with tiny hoaxes. You are barefoot on his love-- but his love feels a lot like walking through a street of fire and thorns. But hey, isn't that the point of devotion? To put something, someone first? To go through any suffering and starve to get to the prize, to walk through the golden gates? If this was a church, the priest would tell you to get on your knees and pray harder. You can see where he’s going. You’ll do better. Be everything Dean needs. You can be worthy-- you are worthy. You were his everything once and you can be that again. Pick up the soul tapestry he shrewd so unintentionally and patch it up. Most of those things must be in your head anyway, and if they aren't… Well. He will love you that deeply again, right? Right? It’s an echo. Right.

Tomorrow you’ll try again. In the name of love, condepedency, or whatever it is. Sit and watch him.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[randomfandomimagine]

A Whisper Among The Noise (Clark Kent x Reader)

Character: Clark Kent

Fandom: Superman/Man of Steel (DCEU)

Tags: Songfic, angst with a happy ending, pining

Warnings: A bit angsty in the middle

Word Count: 2,1k words

Requested by @caritobbg​: Hello again!!! ❤️ I'm still in love with "I Still Love You" whith Jaskier 😍❤️ hahahaha I'm gonna ask if you could write another ficlet songfic with Clark Kent x Fem! Reader? 😍 The song's called Secret Love Song p.II by Little Mix ❤️ Reader's in love with him, but when she founds out about a mysterious girl that he likes, she felt so bad and sing that song infront of everyone at an after-office party. Then, Clark tell her that she's that girl 😍 Love your blog!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

A/N: Better late than never 😅 By this point I was running out of inspiration a bit, but I still kind of like the result and I hope you love it! Thanks for being so lovely and patient and understanding. Enjoy!! 💜

Clark Kent x Gender Neutral Reader

_

You absently scratched your nail against the ridges on the red solo cup you were holding and that you had barely drank a sip of. The party was lively and loud, and although you didn’t regret coming, you were starting to feel a bit restless. Everyone was shouting over the music and chatting in groups, and after you had said hello to them, you were now hiding in the corner as you felt your social battery drain.

A hand softly pressed against your arm, and you would have been startled by the sudden contact as well as by the promise of new interaction if it weren’t for whom that hand belonged to. You could tell it was him not only by the gentle way in which he called you, but also the unmistakable way his touch made you feel. Warm, flustered, loved. The butterflies returned to your stomach, like they had never left ever since the last time you talked to him.

“Y/N” His deep voice enveloped you as you turned around to face him.

“Hey, Clark” You didn’t speak too loudly, but he seemed to hear you nonetheless.

“What…” He began to say, but he paused and leaned closer to your ear so you could understand him over the blasting speakers. “What are you doing here all alone?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, even under the fond way in which he watched you, you shrugged your shoulders. Wanting to distract yourself from the intense way he made you feel, you continued to play with the cup in your hands.

Why can't I hold you in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours

 “Well, I…” Knowing he expected an answer, you made an effort to reply and raise your voice enough so that he could hear you. “I guess I’m a bit over it already”

When you looked up at him, you saw Clark dedicating you an understanding smile. His hand, which still lingered on your arm, carefully squeezed you.

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“I wouldn’t want you to leave the party early because of me…”

“I don’t mind at all” His smile widened, acquiring an inviting expression. “I don’t like parties that much anyway”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Your hand fell atop of his, timid and longing.

“It would be my pleasure” Clark dedicated you that smile, the one that light up your entire world.

The two of you paused, lingering on your reciprocal touch, and stared at the other. At that time, the music in the background seemed to dim. Perhaps it was because of your heart beating wildly in your chest, all the more with each second that your touch and his continued. Or maybe it was that the intensity of your gazes that made everything around you duller.

When your eyes drifted down to his lips, like they had a mind of their own, you had to bite your lip not to audibly gasp. You inched closer to his mouth on an instinct, ever so slightly, so little in fact that he didn’t seem to notice.

“Come on” He finally said, moving his hand to gently push it against the small of your back. “Let’s get you home”

You obeyed, hoping you weren’t blushing as his hand also lingered in that new spot. Titling your head down, you started walking towards the exit. Your mind boiled with thoughts, all regarding the very man that so kindly insisted in personally accompanying you home.

_

When Clark stopped the car, it felt like all the questions fighting for attention in your brain only grew louder with the absence of the party music. Like every time you interacted, he was the perfect gentleman, a sweetheart, always kind and thoughtful and gentle. Back at the party, you had been even closer than ever. All those stolen moments you shared paled in comparison to that one. Surely, he must have noticed your moment of weakness and decided not to act on it, to pretend like he didn’t realize. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

It made sense, seeing as his heart was apparently taken. There were rumors in the office, of Clark being hung up on someone. He always seemed absent-minded, lost in a beautiful romantic daydream of that special person. If only you could be so lucky, but having your feelings reciprocated felt like an impossible dream. You could see that now, clear as day despite the darkness that surrounded you.

“Are you okay?” Clark’s husky voice startled you slightly in the stillness of the car. “You’re very quiet”

“I was just wondering…” You dared to look him in the eyes, forgetting how beautiful and piercing they were. For a moment, it took your breath away. “Are the rumors true? Do you… are you… and someone in the office…?”  

“Maybe… why do you ask?” He attentively stared at you, but his tender expression wasn’t endearing this time. It was heartbreaking, because someone else caused it.

“I…” Unprompted, a deep sadness overwhelmed you. The electric magic that seemed to fill the air whenever he was around disappeared, replaced with a cold void.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Clark placed a hand on your wrist, but this time the gesture didn’t feel as lovely either. “You’re acting strange”

Tears arrived to your eyes. You had a sudden realization that, no matter how close and intimate you got with Clark, it would never be enough. He was thinking of someone else.

Every time I see you, I die a little more Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls It'll never be enough As you drive me to my house I can't stop these silent tears from rolling down You and I both have to hide on the outside Where I can't be yours and you can't be mine

But I know this, we got a love that is homeless

Was he really that blind to your love to give you hope? Especially when his harbored someone else? Was that undeniable connection doomed because of another person?

He was staring at you, yet again expecting an answer. His insistent gaze made your heart race, made you flustered as usual. This wasn’t fair…

“I’m in love with you” You spit out before you could stop yourself.

The silence seemed to grow. It loomed over you, lurking in order to swallow you at any moment, and take your empty heart with it.

“Oh…” Clark retrieved his hand, dragging his fingers along your skin.

Feeling all kinds of stupid and hopeless, you averted your gaze. Your wrist felt cold and hot at the same time. That spot missed his touch, but it remembered it.

“I’ll…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll walk you to the door”

Moving your head so he couldn’t see your face, you looked out the window. He stayed in the seat, so you nodded your head without making eye contact. When you made to open the door, he exited the car himself.

In the time that it took him to round the vehicle to reach the copilot door, you took a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn’t want him to know how much you were hurting. It would only make things worse.

It's obvious you're meant for me Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep But I'll never show it on my face

Before he could, you opened the door and walked out of the car. There stood Clark’s tall figure, illuminated by a streetlight behind him and making him look like an angel in a halo. You and him… it would have been too good to be true.

You started walking to your front door, with him standing by you and watching your every move. He was worried, and you could tell. You couldn’t even be mad at him or that person that stole his love. After all, you wanted him to be happy, even if it was with somebody else.

As you walked, you subtly wiped the tears from your cheeks and busied yourself with getting your keys out. They rattled in the silence of the night, making your ears ring. It was the only sound filling the void other than your slow, feeble footsteps. Your front door was closer each second, and with that a sense of anticipated relief reached you bit by bit, desperately attempting to take over the hurt.

“Y/N?” Clark piped up, but you didn’t feel strong enough to hear what he wanted to say.

“Thanks for taking me home” Was all you told him, already lifting your arm with your keys prepared.

“Wait” He spoke in an ushered whisper, delicately stopping your hand when you were opening the door. His fingers were warm even in that chilly night. “I don’t think you understood me before”

“You don’t have to explain” You told him, mentally begging him to stop talking. “Really, Clark”

“I do” His grip on your wrist tightened a little. “Because I am in love with that someone…”

“Clark…” You began, gritting your teeth and struggling to keep faking.

“Will you look at me?” His hand gingerly rested against your cheek, tilting your head so you reluctantly stared into his blue eyes. “That someone is you… how could you think it was anyone but you?”

You gawked at him, unable to believe him. He backed off slightly, letting go of your wrist and giving you some space. As usual, he seemed to know exactly what you needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” You weren’t angry, you weren’t sad, nor disappointed. Shock was the only thing you could feel among the sea of emotions that threatened to drown you.

“I thought you knew…” He continued, given your quietness. “I was waiting for a sign”

“A sign?”

“A sign that you… loved me back”

“I knew you loved someone, I just… I never thought it was me…”

Clark frowned, seemingly as heartbroken as you were. He made to touch you again, but this time he hesitated. You could see it in his eyes, the regret and guilt and fear. After all this time being so unapologetically affectionate, he was afraid to hurt you again. He was afraid to harm you in any way, even if it hadn’t been his intention. All that pain and uncertainty… it was all for nothing. Clark loved you, he always had. There was no one else, only you.

“I’m sorry if I ever hurt you” Once again, he read you like an open book. He knew you so well, and he cared so much, that he read your thoughts.

“Get out of my head…” You spoke in a whisper, fascinated by him.

Relieved by the shift in the atmosphere, from tense and sad to hopeful and light, he chuckled. His brow was still furrowed, but now it showcased that fondness from always. Knowing what you did now, you realized it wasn’t only that. It was fondness, and an absolute adoration that you were surprised not to have seen until then. It was always there, you were just too blind and too afraid to see it.

“Can I…?” Clark began, but you interrupted him.

“Yes” You replied before he could finish the question, you knew what he was going to say anyways. And the answer was yes, one hundred times yes.

He smiled and moved closer to you. Feeling his warmth in the chilly night, you shivered as he lovingly wrapped his arms around you. Like they belonged there and always had, your hands settled on his chest. He deeply breathed in, as though he couldn’t contain such emotion. Then, he finally leaned in.

Your eyes closed at the touch of his lips, feeling goose bumps now that it finally happened. He held you tight at last, tighter, as tight as he could, as he pressed you against him. Your hands went up to his shoulders, holding on to him as your legs threatened to give in under the weight of your immeasurable happiness.

The kiss was magical, warm, passionate and tender. It was loving and sweet and cathartic. When it ended after a few seconds, you slowly opened your eyes. Clark was staring at you, receiving you with a bright smile. He didn’t say anything, but you understood anyway.

There was no noise anymore and he didn't have to whisper in your ear, but he still reached you deeply. He saw you in ways no one else could, he talked to you and read you without the need of words, and that kiss was proof of it all, like a whisper among the noise.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ / @locke-writes​ / @lotsoffandomrecs​ / @emmacata​ / @scared-to-be-lonely345​ / @everyday-imfangirling​ / @danietoww04​ / @sylleblossomstar​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms part 2

Part 1 <-

Yang:Okay Weiss, your turn.

Weiss:What!? Why me?

Blake:Because you’ve been bouncing in your seat all through Yang’s story. You clearly want to gush about your kids.

Weiss:Pffft, What!? Nooooo, a little. Hehehe I can’t believe I’m that obvious. *smiles*

Ruby:Aww look at you, I never believe Weiss Schnee could look as warm as campfire.

Yang:And wearing mom jeans!? Little jealous that you still look completely gorgeous. Why does mom energy make you prettier?

Weiss:What can I say? I’m great. As far as my universe goes, I argue that I’m the strongest mom!

Blake:Such a bold claim.

Weiss:I carried twins! *points to self* this body handled two buns in the oven!

Ruby:Couldn’t be me. *shutters* I’d sooner loose an eye. Speaking of eyes, your scar has a friend. Got this whole upside down cross basically.

Weiss:Oh that? That’s uhhhh- how would I even explain this?

Yang:And your hair! It’s short!

Ruby:Yeah you’re just a surprise all over.

Blake:Guys, let her start from the beginning!

Ruby and Yang:Oh right. *covers mouths*

Weiss:(Yep, they’re the same sisters anywhere.) Thank you Blake. Now then...a good starting place? Well I suppose I could lay the ground work of Jaune and I getting better acquainted. It was about two weeks into reaching Atlas. Winter learned I got impaled and berated me not giving any kind of thanks. Since I had waited so long to do so, words wouldn’t do for her standards and she made me take him to a proper dinner. I think it was that night we actually talked openly to each other. A piece of me was annoyed at first because I thought he’d get the wrong idea again. But...he didn’t. He was just happy to spend time with me. That’s when I realized he had changed a bit *red* and apparently I changed too. Sigh, because that annoyed feeling was actually me forming a crush.

Blake:Looks like you changed more than he did. I think we can all agree that we’re pretty rough to deal with at Beacon in the beginning?

Yang:Hell yeah!

Ruby:Preach! Hehe, but it meant you grew the most too.

Weiss:Hey! You’re all assuming that I was terrible! Who knows, I could a Saint compared to your Weiss. Maybe I was a sweetheart at Beacon.

RBY:.....

Yang:Were you?

Weiss:*red* I’ll never tell.

Blake:(That’s just a no...) Two weeks into Atlas huh? I bet feelings raged whenever the whole place was under attack huh?

Weiss:W...What attack? Barely anything happened in Atlas.

Blake:Excuse me?

Ruby:Pfft what? You’re joking right? There wasn’t any threat of things falling out the sky or war threats?

Weiss:No? We showed up, put the relic in vault, and took time fortifying things while planning with Ironwood. The most exciting thing was a grimm wave and two of Salem’s goons showing up at a ball, but we handled that.

Ruby:....I...that’s...oh my head.

Blake:So what you’re saying is time in Atlas was a piece of cake?

Weiss:Well I had to deal with my father and and a lot of other family drama so I wouldn’t say it was cake. It was actually very stressful.

Yang:Well I think we found the massive shift between worlds. Atlas was different. I would say I dealt with anything like falling kingdoms. Atlas for me was one long Mission Impossible sequence. Espionage, jail break, fake deaths, but please continue with your love story.

Weiss:You sound a little envious. Anyways there isn’t too much of anything to tell in that part. Dates, fighting together, sibling healing, I was disowned publicly, Penny was being amazing-

Blake:You were disowned?

Ruby:(Penny is...alive? Huh, well, imagine that?) .....

Yang:*whispers* You okay Rubes?

Ruby:Yeah, processing. Hey Weiss? Not to control the narrative or anything, but how is your Ruby exactly? I get the feeling she’s quite different from me somehow if things like the adventure in Atlas are different.

Weiss rubbed her chin. She could tell the Ruby in front of her was pretty perplexed by the differences so far. In fact, Weiss could tell mentioning Penny made them all flinch a little. It was safe to assume they all hadn’t heard that name in a very long time. It made her feel a little bad. Did she somehow get a more ideal world?

Weiss:I think I might be able to answer that if you could humor me by getting a little further into my world’s reality? I don’t know how but I do get a since the two of you might have a key difference.

Ruby:I’m all ears.

Weiss: Blake, I’ll circle back to being disowned a little later. It’s one of the biggest reasons I am who I am now. Let’s see now, ah, the plan. After Atlas was infiltrated it was hard to save face to the rest of Remnant. That was until the world learned about Salem. It was a secret that was doing more harm than good at this point. On that day, our journey really began for us. Team RWBY wasn’t just four girls and their friends. It was one of four four girls commanding troops, organizing meetings, rallying others. We were the face of a revolution: along with JNPR of course.

Ruby:The world just...believed in Salem?

Weiss:There were plenty skeptics, but it’s harder not to believe it. Pen- our winter maiden, showed off magic. Then the others on our side followed the example. We had two relics to show off from the start, and a variety of ways to explain questions throughout history that nobody could answer before. We gave humanity’s suffering a face. People were more than eager to cling to it. From that point it was hard for Salem to make a move that wouldn’t give further validity to our story.

Ruby:An army huh, lead by us?

Weiss:Yep, mainly you when it came to the battlefield. You were anxious at first and definitely made moves that you regretted. But...after some time and experience, you stood tall in front of dozens to give a speech the night of the final battle. I still get chills. There wasn’t an eye that wasn’t on you. A person who didn’t want to march into battle with you. I don’t think I ever seen you more sure of where you were meant to be.

Ruby:Is that so? Hmm, I think...I think I get it now. Your Ruby must’ve stumbled quite a bit, but had people by her consistently. It was other’s strength that enabled her to get stronger. How old was she when the war was over?

Weiss:It ended on her twenty first birthday.

Ruby:Makes sense. An army isn’t made in a day. Plans and caution for everyone involved. A united force like that sounds like a thing Oz dreamed of.

Weiss:Actually, it was. My world beat Salem by gaining the relics. The gods witnessed the effort the world put in and stripped her of immortality. It was actually thanks to you that Salem went peacefully. Instead of damning her to a cruel fate, the gods let her pass on to her kids per your request. After that, gods and magic came back. Both are still mysterious. The gods are hard to find and there’s only one person born with magic so far.

Yang:Magic is a thing there!? That’s so unfair! Just imagine me with more fire!?

Weiss:Like you need it!? You’re already like a generator. Life after Salem wasn’t any calmer really. Terrifying grimm lurked where their could, an entire new way of life had been dropped on society, and even the world itself seemed to react. Weather has been more intense as of late. There was a lot things to keep people busy. Ruby being her usual self, started hunting. Blake used the momentum of faunus and humans working together to further her equality agenda, and Yang helped both of you out.

Yang:Look at me! I’m a great girlfriend and sister!

Blake:*mumbles* There at least.

Weiss:Yeah. Oscar and Penny decided to embarrass more of normal lifestyle, mostly. Penny went back to being protector of Mantle, but had way more free time to be a normal girl. Both of them had gotten really close over the years and eventually married.

Ruby:*wide eyed* Awwww, good for them! I always had a feeling those two would hit it off.

Weiss:They weren’t the only ones. You may have been busy, but you always made time for Whitley. The two of you were dating since our original trip to Atlas. There wasn’t a problem that either of you didn’t come to me for. You know hard it is to navigate other people’s relationships when you’re lost in your own? The blind was leading the blind. Worked out though. You were probably the prettiest bride out of all of us. Then again, you went ours and literally took notes.

Ruby:Hehe, that sounds exactly like something I’d do. You haven’t talked much about the charmed life after the war for you.

Weiss felt her face heat up. She placed her head on the table as if she gave up on something.

Yang:Yeah! Give us the scoop!

Weiss:Charmed isn’t what I’d call my life exactly. I was disowned, completely cut off. Even though I made my own mark in history, it’s not like people were gonna roll out red carpets. The world had to rebuild, and I needed a roof over my head. Thus began the modest life of Weiss Schnee, owner of a two bedroom Argus apartment. Fancy clothes a food were no more. Just clearance sales and two for one. Honestly, I didn’t hate. But that’s mainly because I wasn’t living alone.

Blake:Jaune?

Weiss:Living back home was just as unappealing for him as it was for me. That and the fact that I couldn’t cook for shit was concerning, to say the least. Moving in and splitting rent just made sense. We weren’t dating yet technically, but.....it didn’t take long for the relationship between us to...expand.

Yang:I cannot believe a Weiss Schnee finally caved to tall blonde and scraggly. I should be jealous, but I’m strangely proud of Jaune’s achievement. It’s like the first time I lost to him. I was upset, but man did he work for that win.

Weiss:Took about a month before all of you had learned just what the living situation was like and man did you three let the teasing begin? *smiles* it was fun though. If I had to wrong about something then I’m glad it was about me not thinking a person is reliable. Especially since they’ve bailed me out of trouble many times. Normal life had its pitfalls. We were constantly working to pay rent. Sometimes one of us had to work harder. Getting sick was disastrous, of long term assignments. What’s the relationship I have with Whitley in the other worlds?

Ruby:Casual. The two of are always throwing ideas back and forth to help the company.

Blake:The two of you are fine. I’m not too sure how much you actually hang out, but you both are pretty snarky whenever you’re together.

Yang:Thick as thieves. That man was always shifting money and finding sneaky ways to let us know when important things popped up.

Weiss:Good, that’s really good. *exhales* I can’t count the times he sent money without father knowing. I’m glad we reconnected. Without his and everyone’s help, I don’t think I would’ve managed. Especially when mom died...

Ruby:Oh. I...I’m sorry to hear that.

Weiss:It’s bound to happen when you drink the way she did. But yeah, didn’t handle it any easier. Between that and stressing over money, I really got overwhelmed often. I was very glad I didn’t live alone. Even if I didn’t want to talk about things, Jaune was always there to listen. I think it was around that time I realized just how in love I actually was with him. He makes me happy. That idiot must’ve known how much of a weakness I had for him. It was only a few months later that he proposed.

The simple memory of Jaune asking her under a street light on a cold yet peaceful night, made Weiss’s face a healthy shade of red. A gentle smile was all she could make thinking about it. A smile that left everyone stunned. They had never seen Weiss look so warm. So genuinely filled with love, happiness. To think she was once called Ice Queen? This one really did look like an Angel. Weiss quit daydreaming and got a little embarrassed.

Weiss:Uh, sorry! I guess I little mushy there. I’ve been told I’ve gotten pretty sappy through the years.

Blake:I think that’s beautiful.

Yang:Seriously. I’m...speechless really.

Ruby:A hardworking Weiss that struggled making ends meet. I gotta say that you look good doing it.

Weiss:Yeah well, that time has passed. My father got sick and in an attempt to “clear his conscious” or whatever he was feeling, he put me back in the family. I only saw him once when he was on his deathbed. Truthfully, I don’t visit my parent’s grave. I wanna say old emotions don’t get stirred up, but there’s certain feelings towards people that just can’t die I guess.

Yang:That’s fair. Who knows, maybe you just need a decade or two?

Weiss:Hehe, perhaps. However, before I got my fortune back, I was granted an either better one. Two in fact. That sly knight of mine managed to overachieve like he always does and give us a boy and girl.

Blake:I got a sneaking suspicion that you weren’t upset?

Weiss:Not for one second! I love my babies. My darling little Nick and Summer Schnee. One named after our grandfather, and Jaune and I are both really thankful for all that Ruby has done for us, so our daughter got named Summer. It meant a lot. My Ruby...she can’t have kids, or I should say getting and staying pregnant is extremely difficult.

Ruby:...*sniffling* These aren’t tears by the way. Just dust.

Weiss:My Ruby cried.

Ruby:Oh I bet! That’s some powerful stuff. Probably ugly cried too. Someone please say something? *misty eyed* Fuck, man that was a lot. *puts hood up* give me a sec, please keep going. *holding Yang’s hand*

Yang:Weiss, weren’t you a little scared about your living situation?

Weiss:It was a weird thing. We talked about having a family before hand. Money was always a concern, as well space; but I also knew that I did want to have a family of my own one day. So when the day came that the nurse told me I was pregnant, I should’ve been more worried. I wasn’t. All I felt was joy. Maybe it was because I had faith we could handle anything. We did have you all to help. Yang, you might as well be a superwoman honestly. You have been so amazing throughout my life.

Yang:Aye! I really love this other me.

Blake:What about me?

Weiss:You remain the most sensible person in my life and I thank you for it. Everyone else is crazy.

Blake:Yeah that’s pretty on brand. *smiles*

Ruby:Picture please?

Weiss gladly pulled out her scroll and showed off her children. It was quick to see both of them had gotten their father’s dorkiness. They stood in front of the camera playfully winking and were pretending to take a bite out the gold medals they had around their necks. It was crazy how much Summer looked like her mother, but clearly had Jaune’s eyes. Her brother on the other hand had the Schnee eyes and messy Arc hair. The two looked like barrels of fun. Then there was the man himself, Jaune Arc. He looked from the one in Yang’s photo. His hair resembled his days traveling to Haven and he was clean shaven, but he was noticeably healthier. It wasn’t even a physical thing much, though he did look good. He just seemed more vibrant.

Yang:Mine is cuter.

Weiss:Yours looks like your dad with the scruff.

Yang:Can you not?

Blake:How old?

Weiss:Sixteen. Little devils want sports car. I’m not dealing with that. Nick is really good at figure skating and is the oldest, so he’s the heir. Summer decided to be a little like her mother and pursue singing. Doesn’t have my voice though, but her range is better than me. I’m jealous. Both of them are always pretty decent in a fight if I do say so myself. Sigh, they grow up so fast. They still have a lot of growing to do though. Teenagers...

RBY:Preach...

Ruby:Everything okay though? Nothing too tough going on?

Weiss:Can I lie and say yes?

Yang:Hey I unpacked my baggage. Unload yours.

Weiss let out a large sigh. She looked at her kids lovingly, but had a smile that seemed...somber. All of her energy was brought down a bit and it showed.

Yang:Umm if it’s too much-

Weiss:It’s fine. It might be a little therapeutic to talk about it. Personally, I don’t I’m doing all I really can do. When they were very young, we all took a trip to go skating at a frozen lake. While I was there I found this strange ice dust that I’ve never seen before. Nick and Summer had gotten into a fight and by accident, Nick set off the dust. The shrapnel from it hit everyone, but Summer had it the worse. I’m talking it was lodged in her in multiple places. Not to mention the blast sent her flying into the water. I was hit so hard that I nearly blacked out. Thankfully, Jaune was the furthest and dove into the water while I managed to get Nick. He avoided a lot of it due to distance and was winded more than anything.

Ruby:Christ...

Blake:How young?

Weiss:Five. We rushed so fast to the hospital as soon as we could. The dust in Summer was freezing her until Nick activated her semblance and most of the shards got used up. Still, Summer ended up hospitalized for almost a year. Surgeries, comas, seizures; it was difficult to put it lightly. That picture doesn’t show it but she has puncture scars across her body, and a slight scar under her jawline she covers with makeup. That dust, though highly dangerous, it also healed her eventually. Summer had virtually no chance of survival. Not even counting the organ damage, that water should’ve put her into shock. But...she made a full recovery, on paper.

Yang:On paper?

Weiss:Several years later, Summer came in contact with the dust again and she...changed. Her eyes looked like mine, her light blonde hair went white, and she went mad. Her scars glowed with the dust that was still in her system and Summer started attacking everyone. I saw my twelve year old just use ice that was cold enough to burn. My extra scar is from me trying to restrain her. In the end it took my gigas pinning her down before she came to her senses. Summer had no memory of it. She said all remembered was feeling cold and hearing her own laughter. It wasn’t long after that it kept happening. Any time she got cold, this other...thing would come out. It eventually called itself Shiva.

Blake:Shiva? So...it’s a multiple personality?

Weiss:We don’t know. There’s so many inconsistencies. We got her checked up by the best and every test was normal. Her brain looks normal. But any time Shiva comes out, her blood turns blue and all she wants to do is hurt us. Shiva and Summer are even aware of each other now. There’s almost no day where Summer doesn’t hear Shiva in her head, wrestling for control. Between that, people at school who hate her, the scars, everything; Summer has become pretty reserved. She barely wants to go to school and she’s depressed most days. Nowadays she doesn’t open up about it outside of therapy. I...I can connect with her. Not in the way that matters.

Yang:I...shit, I don’t know what to say to that.

Weiss:That’s okay, few do. We’ve gotten good at preventing situations that get Summer cold but it’s through trial and error on something we know nothing about. Even with how far we’ve gotten, there’s a looming fear in everyone’s heart. Make no mistake though, that doesn’t stop any family from loving her with everything, but the mental strain of it all is more than anyone should deal with. Nick is kind soul. He blames himself for this and is constantly doing all he can to be there for everyone and put on this brave face, but he suffers inside. For a time, he went to therapy. Your sister almost killing you is a visceral experience. Getting him to sleep and take a break is like telling a fish not to swim. He is pretty open about this though, which helps a lot. It’s just...how do convince somehow they’re good enough when they think they’re not?

Ruby and Blake:You can’t....

Weiss:Exactly. It’s so...*tearing up* How am I failing at helping my kids worse than my own mother?

Yang:And that’s where I draw the line. *stands up* Now I can’t begin to fathom dealing with a a situation like this, and what I’m about to say is gonna be a little hypocritical but I really don’t care. Weiss, the last thing you are is a bad mother. I could tell immediately from the way you are that there hasn’t been a single as a parent that you haven’t made a choice without your kids in mind. I get feeling like there’s a gap that disconnects you from there; but the fact you keep your arms stretched out to bridge it makes you mother of the year in my eyes! Don’t believe for a second you’re a bad mother. Your the gold standard!

The room filled with silence for a moment. Weiss felt a lump form in her throat as she fought back tears that she eventually had to wipe away. She tried letting out a small laugh, but with it came more tears that ran down her face. Weiss couldn’t tell if it was from Yang’s words, or the stress. All she knew was that right now, she felt very thankful for being here.

Weiss:Damn it Yang, making me cry is something you’ve always been good at. Maybe that’s why I look up to you so much?

Yang:*red* Y-You what?

Weiss:My Yang, I downplayed just how much I adore her. Her daughter, Veronica, she’s got her fair share problems that stresses Yang out, but I never see her stop trying to connect with her. Even when she’s sad it’s like it’s only for a second, then you’re trying twice as hard. It’s amazing. If I’m being honest, and this is embarrassing, but I kinda picked up a mother from you. You’ve always been a bit motherly.

Ruby:She’s right.

Blake:Mom energy since day one.

Yang:Really? *rubs head* I was just being myself. Never really thought about it. Now then, wipe those tears! It’s upsetting that you look pretty why you cry. Meanwhile I look like a hot mess, and not in the fun way.

Weiss:*wiping face* Oh please, I don’t wanna hear that from someone who’s never needed make up. Those genes of your went to Veronica. Kids a genuine beauty. She’s just angry all the time.

Yang:Yeah that sounds appropriate... Weird to think I have a daughter that’s not Yujin. Wish I could see her.

Blake:Me too. Though I think I’d be overwhelmed seeing all my different kids. I’d probably want them all.

Ruby:My hands are full with ones I have and I wouldn’t say I’m juggling them well, so I don’t need other kids from universes. I’d be so stressed.

Weiss:Especially if they’re violent.

Ruby:Yeah, that would bad....

Weiss:Phew, I do feel a bit better. Even though I said all those things, my family still had good times. It’s not tense and we joke around like everyone else. As a family, we’re happy. We just have shit we gotta sort through.

Blake:Rich or poor, life has certain things that hit everyone. Is Jaune doing well.

Weiss:Yeah, he gets through to Summer pretty well, and he’s typically calm when it comes to giving guidance. He had his fears, but that’s why I’m here. We confide in each other.

Blake:May you and everyone else find a light at the end of the tunnel.

Ruby:Hey Weiss. Does....actually, never mind. Forget it.

Yang:We both know that’s not happening. Spit it out.

Ruby:I was just about Shiva. I’ve encountered weird things in my world, but this is unique. I was wondering if you have any positive experience with her.

Weiss:Not a single one. Here since of enjoyment in the displeasure of my children is a thing we disagree on. Though....her eyes, they do throw me off. For some reason, they don’t match her joy.

Blake:Maybe that part is still Summer. Eyes are the window to the soul and all that jazz.

Weiss:Maybe? I hope the kids are okay right now. I wonder what they’re up to?

xxxxx

Summer:WHAT’S UP VALE!!!!!!!!

A massive crowd screams “what’s up Summer”in excitement. Flashing lights and chanting fans’s voices make the sold out venue shake with their passion. Summer can only bask in it. There’s no better feeling than when she’s on stage. She looks to herself excitedly. This one was extra special. Nick comes out on stage with a base around him and a second microphone.

Nick:WE CAN’T HEAR YOU!!!!

The crowd chants louder. Summer responds by starting a rift on her guitar. She faces Nick with a smug look. Yes, having him on stage is always a joy, but that didn’t mean Summer wanted him hindering or stealing the show.

Summer:Well look who’s here!? Atlas’s favorite son! Think you’re ready to play with the kids up here. This isn’t your normal stage.

Nick smiled. He responded by playing the bass and letting the audience speak for him. Summer was chessing fool. Slowly she bopped up and down, urging him to do the same. It wasn’t long before they in sync. Drums, piano, and other background musicians began building up the tune as planned. The twins whipped around to face the crowd.

🎶Get down! We won't let you go!

This time, can you bring us down?

Back up! fly far through the sky

BLACK ROVER!

Let's go! All together now

And at last this world can't slow us down

For now, let's dye it all in black

BLACK ROVER!🎶

The two stood back to back...

🎶As more join and stand beside me,

The void doesn't feel so empty!!!!!

I know there is much more in store

Let's open that door -!🎶

Nick looked over his shoulder and saw Summer doing the same thing. This was gonna be one for the books. Jaune watched from backstage with one of the stagehands.

Stagehand:Should we tell them to save their energy? This charity event is six hours.

Jaune:Nah, let them have fun.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

The Leauge of villains in a horror movie (no quirk au)

I just think itd be interesting

I'm more a fan of horror books than movies, because I get scared easily with visual content. BUT I'd do the best I can. Here it goes:

THE YEAR OF THE DEMON LORD AU :

The story is about a little boy (Shimura Tenko) who was sold to a demon (AFO) by his father (Shimura Kotaro), who was trying to bring his mother (Shimura Nana) back to life.

The demon tricked Kotaro and he only brought the ghost of Nana back. To mark the little boy as his, the demon changed Tenko's name to Tomura. His hair also changed from black to white and he got permanent scars along his face and neck, the a curse that would be always screacting.

The story cuts to the future, where we see an older Tomura playing with his train set. Nao, Kotaro's wife, is arguing with him because she refuse to let the demon take the kid. That night when the demon appears, Nao makes her choice: crying, she tells the demon to take Kotaro in exchange of letting her son live for another 15 years. The demon accepts the deal but in exchange he decides he's gonna take the lives of all the Shimuras one by one, whenever he wants.

Nao takes her family and begins her career against the clock: she needs to find someone who can fight the demon to free her son.

She doesn't hide to his son what is happening. Tomura knows he's cursed and a demon is looking for him. But Nao also teaches him about how his grandmother, Nana, used to fight against demons all the time. Tomura is not alone and he can't let the demon take him, because he is a special boy, she knows it. Whatever happens, the demon can't take him.

Within the first 5 years, Tomura lost both his maternal grandparents. Tomura is now 10 years old, but they haven't found someone to fight the demon. Instead, Nao has spend those years finding someone to teach Tomura how to resist the demon's influence. His name is Kurogiri and he's a young specialist on fighting satanic influences. He becomes like a father to Tomura and Hana, something Nao is grateful for.

Another 5 years go by and Nao dissappears. Hana is 18 years old, Tomura is 15 years old. The grieve causes Tomura to forget most of the past 15 years old of his life. Hana starts her theological studies as Kurogiri helps Tomura develop his supernatural abilities. They don't tell Tomura the truth, because they want him to have some normal years.

Tomura gets some friends. They all are strange and weird as him, almost all of them having some or other form of connection with the supernatural, even if they don't know about it.

Hana and Kurogiri agree that it's best for him to keep some close friends to help him. Still, they're time is running out.

Tomura doesn't know why her sister acts so strange. She's jumpy, scared, tearful and constantly worrying over him. She fights a lot with his friends, he goes paranoid.

They have a fight. Tomura leaves their home. After some hours, Hana panics and calls everyone to go after him. She barely finds him and is able to apologize when she sees the demon lurking in the shadows. Hana tells him to run but Tomura doesn't. He stays there while the demon takes his sister.

Everything comes back to him in a flash. He faints. When he wakes up, he finds out Kurogiri was the one who saved him, but he got his own curse for getting in between the demon and him.

With all his family dead and his mentor injured, Tomura needs to make a decision. Is he going to expend the rest of his years looking for a savior or is he going to fight the demon himself?

Tomura dissappears. Hana is dead. The Villain Club (the way Tomura decides to refer to his friends), are madly worried. Tomura has always helped them, he was always there when they needed him, so how can the let Tomura just dissappear like that?

Magne uses her power to contact a ghost to help them. Most of them are terrified and won't even talk to her. Compress is her anchor to the real world, Twice is the bait, so Toga is the one protecting Magne from the ghost in the spirit realm. Since Spinner is not spiritually sensitive and Dabi can't control his powers, they are the ones protecting the others in the real world.

Toga, Spinner and Dabi are doing their best, but there are too many ghost attacking them. They are almost past the limit when Magne finds the ghost of Nana.

She explain the situation as quickly as she can, before begging them to rush, giving them Tomura's location. He plans to contact the demon behind Kurogiri's back to get done with the whole deal.

Tomura is not strong enough, but he's tired of watching the people he loves die. He knows in his bones that if he asks his friends for help, they won't refuse. But getting involved equals getting kill, and that's something he can't deal with.

I bet you already know that everything goes wrong from this point further.

The demon needs some time to properly possess Tomura. The Villian Club are on their way, but know the demon knows that too.

They crash. Magne gets badly injured and she just knows the demon won't let her live, not when she was the one who contacted Nana. That's why she tells the rest to go save Tomura while she stays behind. She's gonna use her own blood, flesh and bones to create a protection for them. Human sacrifices are powerful, and even more when the person gives their love willingly.

Tomura is fighting the demon's will. Their in an abandoned building, one the Villian Club needs to break in. Except now they're not only dealing with ghosts, but with demon possessed humans.

This time, Compress and Twice are the ones to keep the demon's servants at bay. They find Kurogiri is already there, but there are too many. He orders the rest to keep going.

Spinner, Dabi and Tog fight their way to the room where Tomura is. While Toga is on transe to properly kill the demons, Spinner needs to carry her on his back and keep her safe in the real world. Dabi is able to kill both demons and humans in the spirit and real world, but it activates his curse and the more he uses his senses, the more his body burns.

When they reach Tomura, is almost too late.

Toga almost collapses for just staring into the demon's real form. Spinner needs to wake her. Dabi can use his arms properly anymore.

That's when the ghost of Magne appears. She's not dead, thanks to Giran and Mustard finding her on time. Using Giran as an anchor and with the help of Giran, she finds a way to contact the Villain Club to give them the final piece Nana told her: the demon has always wanted Tomura because he has the same special ability she was born with: the can bind demons inside of them to destroy them from within.

All they need to do is bring Tomura's consciousness back and tell him that he can contact his dead family, because every life the demon has ever reclaimed keeps living inside of him. A demon as old as that one... He must has thousands and thousands of ghost inside of him.

Dabi and Toga take the most damage, because they're both trying to slow down the demon in both realms the best they can. Spinner is in charge on making Tomura wake up. But how?

He remembers Tomura once confessed that, in order to wake from a nightmare, he created a copy of his father on his subconscious. Whenever the copy of his father put his hand on Tomura's face, he knew he was in danger and his instincts kicked him awake.

With Dabi and Toga defeated, with the possessed humans surrounding the rest of the Villain Club, Spinner tries one last time: he let's the demon capture him, let him think he's done. And when he lowers his guard, Spinner puts his hand on Tomura's face.

For a second, just the laughter of the demon. And then...

“Spinner?”

Spinner almost cries out loud. Or maybe he does. He can't talk, so it's a blessing that Dabi has kept himself awake enough to yell Tomura to contact his family. When Tomura retreats, the demon already attempting to regain control.

The Villain Club uses their last sparks of energy to anchor Tomura. Like hands holding him all over his body, reminding him he's not alone.

And that's when Tomura remembers his mother, his sister, his grandparents. Nana.

He cries and kicks and shouts and bites his way down down down into the demon memory, reclaiming all those lives who took, asking them for help. They are like specks of dust floating on the air, slowly retaking their mortal form. And they are so many... An army of the death.

When he reaches his family, he's tired. He can't move anymore. He closes his eyes while he hears how the ghost tear the demon apart. And he feels gentle hands, gentle voices, gentle smiles.

With the delicate touch of a pair of colorful wings, Tomura feels a kiss on his cheek.

“I'm sorry I had to leave you. Could you forgive me, please? About that night?”

Tomura begins to cry.

Hana, his sister. He'd recognize her voice anywhere.

“It was a silly fight. I was never angry with you anyway. And you're here now.”

She laughs, taking his hand to guide him out of the darkness and he misses her so much.

He knows he can't stay there.

He let's his mother hug him and kiss his forehead, smoothing his hair. He promises to take care of his scars and scratches. L

“My brave little boy, I knew you could do it.”

He let's his grandparents tell him how proud they are. They don't accept the apology of Tomura for being the reason they are dead.

“It was our choice, a great one. We're glad of what we did, so don't regret it for us.”

When he opens his eyes, he's at the hospital. Apparently no one else died, but scared a bunch of people to death for suddenly reappearing with a bunch of injuries, covered in blood and mud.

The Villain Club gets to be angry with Tomura for not asking them for help and then they get to hug the hell out of him.

And if this is a horror movie, why didn't I kill more people? Because this is my au and I get to save them all for being the author.

Happy fucking ending you all.

And remember: I never told any of you that the demon was dead, because no one ever saw him dying.

[primatechnosynthpop]

Wow! Against all odds, I finally got around to actually writing the follow-up to I'm Gonna Be The Anti-Hero that's existed exclusively in my head for months! Well uh here it is :3

---

The secret underground room beneath Plymouth rock was dark and silent as always, save for the faint dripping of water through a crack in the ceiling. It figured that, after living there for countless centuries, the structural integrity would finally begin to erode. That dripping sound, although highly irritating when it first started a month or so ago, had now settled into background noise which John Smith paid no attention to. He was a pilgrim, not a witch; it wasn't like the water could hurt him.

Then again, he realized a few moments too late one rainy spring day, perhaps he should have reevaluated that statement. He was minding his own business sitting in his chair and reminiscing about the very old days (that was the only thing he could really do anymore, slowly decaying as his body was) when the soft and steady dripping suddenly escalated at an exponential rate into what sounded like a small waterfall. He turned his head to see a semi-transparent humanoid figure taking shape out of the water pooling in the corner--strangely tinted red, as though the water were mixed with blood. As the old pilgrim watched, jaw agape, the figure strode purposefully toward him, taking on a more solid form as it did so.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" John Smith demanded, one hand tightening around the hilt of his sword while his other hand reached behind his back to fumble for his musket.

"This secret underground room isn't government sanctioned," the stranger hissed. (Although... was he a stranger? John Smith somehow felt that he'd seen this youngster once before, but he couldn't quite place where or when.) "And you have no official identification registering you as a legal citizen. Not to mention, you haven't been paying taxes... disgraceful."

Before John Smith had the chance to concoct a retort or draw either of his weapons, the masked man's hands were around his throat and crushing his windpipe with a force that could only be driven by an inhuman amount of bloodlust. And within seconds, the life of a pilgrim that had been extended for centuries past its expiration date was finally put to an end.

*

"I can't believe they want us to make a clown movie at a time like this."

"I can believe it," Neil replied without looking up from the shopping list in his hand. "The studio wants a lot from us, remember? They're not going to care how sad we are. Anyway, it's been four months--" The emotions bubbling up within him refused to let his voice stay level, so he gritted his teeth and hissed out the rest of his sentence rather than let himself start crying in the middle of the dollar store. "We should be over it by now."

"Neil..." Kevin began in the way he'd often addressed Neil over the past few months--brow furrowed, voice edged with an obvious and vaguely patronizing concern--only to trail off and shake his head with a sigh. Apparently he'd finally given up on trying to make Neil feel better, which was just fine by him, because things are never gonna go back to the way they were before and it's my fault and I don't deserve to feel good about it.

"Anyway, we've got what we came for," Neil muttered, waving his hand in the general direction of Kevin's shopping basket without looking him in the eyes. "Let's go."

At the checkout counter, the cashier frowned and shook her head when Neil offered her a five-dollar bill. "Sorry," she told them, "But all this is going to cost $29.99."

"What? But we don't have that kind of money!" Neil lamented. "And we got this stuff from the clearance section... plus this is the dollar store, so shouldn't everything just cost a dollar?"

For a visual aid as he spoke, he grabbed one of the items they were ringing up--a bargain pack of multicoloured clown wigs--and shook it in the cashier's face. Apparently unmoved by his bargaining, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"Maybe you should have checked the price tags first, sir."

"Huh? But, but..." Neil trailed off when he looked down at the price tag on the item in his hands. The bright orange tag had the original price, $7.50, crossed out and replaced with $2.35... but then below that, scribbled in tiny and barely legible font, it read "just kidding, it's actually eleven dollars now." "Aw, man," he groaned, tossing the pack down on the conveyor belt and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just our luck."

Kevin had a thoughtful look in his eyes while he drove them home empty-handed. When he pulled up outside the clubhouse a few minutes later and they climbed out of the truck, he suddenly laid a hand on Neil's shoulder.

"Say, Neil, let's not get discouraged," he said. "I've got another idea for how we could get our hands on some props."

"Really?" Neil asked, perking up despite himself. "How?"

"Well, I think--" Kevin broke off as unexpectedly as he'd started, encouraging smile briefly dipping into a grimace. "...You know what, I'll take care of it myself. You can hold down the fort here, okay? I won't be long."

Neil's brow furrowed. "Okay, but what are you...?"

Without explaining himself any further, Kevin clapped him firmly on the back, hopped back into his truck, and drove off. Neil watched him recede down the road with bewilderment. Being all secretive like that wasn't like Kevin... Unless he's trying to protect me from something, he realized with a twinge of bitterness. That would be just like him, the way things had been recently. Ever since the past winter, and what had happened with Ryan, Kevin's latent big-brother-ish tendencies had escalated; now he watched over Neil like a hawk and freaked out every time he so much as stubbed his toe. Under different circumstances Neil would have relished being fussed over, but now it was more annoying than anything else. The thing was, he didn't deserve it. If anything... his fingers strayed up to absentmindedly fidget with the four-leaf clover pinned to his shirt. I deserve to have bad luck. I deserve to suffer, after what I did to Ryan.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it now, and he wasn't going to say no to having the clubhouse to himself for a while. With a sigh, he disentangled his fingers from the clover's leaves, ran a hand through his overgrown bangs, and turned to head inside. Maybe he could play cards or something to pass the time.

*

A thick layer of dust had settled over everything in Ryan's house. That made sense, of course. It had been four months--no, five, since Ryan hadn't come home once while he was being a vigilante--since anyone had set foot there. Even so, Kevin was unprepared for the full-scale assault on his lungs when he opened the door, and promptly broke into a coughing fit.

"Man, good thing Neil stayed home," he thought aloud as he batted thick, swirling clouds of dust and spiderwebs out of his face. "The way things have been going for him lately..."

He'd probably choke to death on all this dust, he thought but didn't say aloud, and then felt bad for thinking it in the first place. Kevin didn't understand what had happened to Neil in the course of the past few days, but ever since picking up that clover, he seemed to be having a run of uncharacteristically bad luck. Whether it was random chance or something more suspicious was afoot, it sure wasn't doing much for his already thoroughly frayed nerves.

"Alright, calm down, James," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and ideally dispel the rest of the dust. "Focus. Concentrate. What are you here for? Props for your webisode. Right."

Keeping that objective in mind, he made his way past the front entrance and into the living room. There, a few objects were strewn around that caught his eye: a mannequin bust wearing a colourful wig; an eccentrically patterned jacket draped over a chair; a brush dipped into a rusted metal container filled with what he hoped was red paint. After looking around a little more he found a large cardboard box filled with mutilated stuffed animals, which he mostly emptied out and started filling with the useful items he came across.

All the while, a persistent feeling of unease stirred in his gut, becoming increasingly hard to ignore with each belonging of Ryan's he packed away. This is wrong. I shouldn't steal from him. Kevin paused and looked down at the box in his arms with a frown. One of the items sticking out the top, a blank-faced doll head, seemed to stare accusingly back at him. For a moment he saw it not as a plastic figure, but as a human form encased in ice and then broken apart. He blinked and the illusion quickly vanished, but an unsettling feeling remained in its wake. Neil was right; it had been months already. So why did going through Ryan's things make him feel so dirty? Ryan didn't need any of this stuff anymore. He was gone. Wasn't he?

With a weary sigh that, had anyone been around to ask, he would have accredited to the physical exertion of carrying heavy stuff around, Kevin set the box down and stepped back to survey the room he was in now. If he remembered right, this kind of room was called a study--there was an armchair with a few suspicious stains lurking beneath the dust, a desk strewn with papers all scrawled full of nonsense like the ravings of a mad scientist, and an ornate bookshelf. He wandered over to the latter furniture piece and ran his hands along the spines of the books, letting their leathery texture ground him in the present. He noticed several unusual bibles and other ancient texts, and a stash of calendars, some of which he was pretty sure had originally belonged to him or Neil; the up-to-date calendars and one of the more normal-looking bibles went into the box, while he decided everything else was better left where it was.

There was one other set of books he recognized: a teen fantasy series that Neil had often gushed about. Thinking back to the previous fall and all the events he normally tried not to think about, he experimentally lifted one of the fantasy books off the shelf. At once, just as he remembered from when Neil showed him, the bookshelf rumbled to the side and revealed a narrow staircase descending into the basement.

If anyone asked him, Kevin couldn't really say what compelled him to go down those stairs. The secret chamber was as empty as he remembered, with nothing down there that could possibly be of use for the webisode. And without a lantern, he could barely even see the only things that were there to speak of: the paintings of Ryan's ancestors.

"Ryan..." The name manifested on Kevin's lips unexpectedly as he stared, squinting through the dust and darkness, at the row of portraits grinning lopsidedly back at him. He knew the paintings couldn't hear him--hell, they weren't even paintings of Ryan himself, just his relatives. But their faces were practically identical to him, that face he hadn't seen in person for nearly half a year, and that alone was enough to clog up his throat with unbearable emotions.

The thought of It's a good thing Neil isn't here for this surfaced again, and this time Kevin had to agree with himself. Losing a close friend was... well, there was no way not to take it hard. But Neil seemed to have taken it particularly hard, even blaming himself, to the point where any mention of Ryan would immediately send him straight back into a depressive spiral no matter how happy he'd been a moment earlier. That was why Kevin had kept this idea a secret from his friend in the first place--that, and he wasn't sure if it was going to pan out and didn't want to get Neil's hopes up. He figured that if Neil asked where he got all the stuff he'd found, he'd just say it was from a garage sale.

Now, looking into the achingly familiar manic blue eyes of those portraits mounted on the wall, Kevin thought of those news reports about the mysterious killings that had been going on around town. If that really was Ryan, and he was somehow still alive...

"Why?" he whispered. Without really thinking, he reached out and pressed his hand against the painting as if to cup its cheek. "Why haven't you come home, Ryan? Where are you?"

*

The target was at home, alone in her bedroom playing video games. Casual, unbothered by any harm her actions may have caused. Shameful. In an icy swirl of perhaps not-so-righteous fury, the vigilante took form in the corner of her room and crept up behind her. With an average build and no weapons at the ready, she would be no trouble to dispose of.

"Playing dead in order to toy with an innocent man's feelings," he growled. "Some people would call it ghosting. I call it a crime punishable by death."

"Jesus christ, what the fuck?!" Wendy yelped as she spun to face the vigilante. "How'd you get in here?"

"You shouldn't worry about that," he told her, gloved hands already flexing in anticipation of tightening around her neck. Or perhaps this time he'd thrust his hand straight through her chest and rip out her heart--an appropriate punishment for her crimes. "You'll have plenty of time to figure it out once I send you to hell."

"Okay, seriously? What is happening here?" Eyes narrowed, Wendy put her game on pause and got to her feet to stare the vigilante down. "You said something about me playing dead..." Her eyes suddenly widened with recognition, and the vigilante waited for the fear to set in along with it, but instead she shook her head and laughed. A pitying laugh. "Wait, you're not friends with that, uh, that filmmaker guy, are you? Geez, I seriously must have dodged a bullet there."

"Filmmaker..." the vigilante murmured as the word echoed in his mind. Yes, that's right. The man she stood up was a filmmaker... of a sort. (How did he know that? How did he even know who this woman was? Those questions weren't worth dwelling on, he decided.) "You may have thought you dodged a bullet back then, but I'm here to see that the bullet circles back around and destroys you like you deserve."

Wendy crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, any trace of fear on her face outmatched by her sad, pitying smile. "Sure, keep the edgy sayings coming, Mr. Hot Topic. And what's with the getup, anyway?" she added with a nod to the vigilante's predominantly dark outfit. "Must be kinda warm."

Warm? The vigilante snorted derisively. No, of course he wasn't too warm. His blood, as it always had for as far back as he could clearly remember, ran cold like that of a snake. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been warm. And he certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd worn anything other than his current ensemble. Rather than waste time telling this insufferable woman as much, though, he simply took a few purposeful strides to close the distance between them, hands extended and more than ready to kill.

"Ugh, get away from me, creep!"

In a startlingly swift motion, Wendy's leg shot out and connected with the vigilante's ankles, sending him toppling to the floor. He hissed in irration, though not in pain--when his sensations were already perpetually numb, it would take a lot more than that to hurt him--and got to his feet, dusting himself off with a scowl. In the few seconds this took, Wendy grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of the room. Now she stood brandishing it in perfect athletic form with a battle-ready glint in her eye.

"Not another step, you hear me?" When the vigilante didn't dignify her with a response, she gritted her teeth and gave the bat a twirl--attempting to show off, it seemed, but her hands shook slightly and she nearly dropped the bat, only barely managing to regain her grip on it. "My mom is in the other room right now, and... well, she hasn't done anything wrong, so you don't want to punish her, right? And if anything happens to me..."

He stiffened at Wendy's mention of her mother. An innocent citizen? That was the type of person a vigilante was meant to protect at all costs; otherwise vigilante justice was no better than the police. But no one is innocent in this city. Even so, he understood the implicit threat--not that Wendy's mother would bring him down herself, but that either woman could very well call the police. And the last thing he wanted was to get law enforcement involved.

"...Fine," he snarled at last, turning on his heel with a twirl of his vigilante cape. "You can live a while longer. But I'll be back, and then you'll regret your sins."

He heard her gasp but didn't bother sparing her another glance as he let his form dissolve into a splash of red-tinted ice, sinking through her floorboards and off to thwart another criminal.

*

Slowly and carefully as a technician deactivating a bomb, Neil set the three of spades down across the top of the three other cards he'd lined up on the table. The humble beginnings of a tower stood for a moment, and he held his breath eagerly as he reached for another card to place on top, only for it to suddenly shudder and collapse like an anime girl who'd stood in the rain for too long.

"Dang it!" Neil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. When he did, a droplet of his own blood landed on his glasses, and he realized with a start that his hand was bleeding--just a paper cut, but still, he'd better wash up.

As he ran his hand under cold water, transfixed by the sight of the blood swirling down the drain, a sudden cracking noise rang out just above him. His head snapped up to stare at the spontaneously cracked bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, stricken and gaunt, as shards of shattered glass rained down into the sink, where they mixed with the water and the blood. Neil shivered, his breath quickening.

Icy water... ice, blood, broken mirrors. All mixed together. Shattered. Blood, guts, ice, mixed together, down the drain. My fault my fault my fault my fault--

"No," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his nails into his scalp as hard as he could. "No! I didn't do it, I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

Deep breaths, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. It sounded like Kevin's voice, worried to the point of being slightly patronizing. Neil grimaced, annoyed at his own brain for manifesting its self-preservation in such a way, but he complied nonetheless. Keeping his eyes wrenched shut, he took several deep breaths in and out until his heartbeat slowed to normal--he hadn't even noticed it speeding up--and his hands didn't shake when he lowered them away from his head.

"Hey, you know what'd really make me feel better?" he said aloud to nobody in particular, putting on a broad smile and wiping his hands off on a towel. "A nice hot bath! Yep, that'll counteract my blood running cold, alright..."

He ran his hands up and down his arms as he spoke, although he didn't know who he was trying to fool; the chill that had settled into his bones had nothing to do with the temperature. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure who this whole performance of forced cheerfulness was meant for... the studio, maybe. He wouldn't put it past them to hide cameras everywhere. Either way, even if it wouldn't fix his psychological issues, a bath really would be pretty nice. He put the plug in and started running the tub, with the water temperature set just hot enough that it would scald him a little at first.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened when he sat down on the edge of the tub to take his socks off, whether he slipped on something or leaned too far back or what, but suddenly he lost balance. And by the time he realized he was falling backward, he only had a split-second to curse his rotten luck before his head connected with the wall and he blacked out.

*

In the end, Kevin managed to get a pretty good haul from Ryan's house. In addition to the stuff he and Neil could use for their webisode, he'd retrieved the calendars and a couple other things it looked like Ryan had stolen from them, as well as their old communicator wristwatches. (He wasn't sure if the watches fell into the camp of things Ryan had stolen, or if they'd just brought them over to his place for a sleepover once and forgotten them there. Either way, Kevin figured it could come in handy to start using them again.)

"Hey, Neil," he called as he stepped into the clubhouse with the box in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. "I'm back."

There was no reply. Frowning, Kevin set the box down with a slight grunt of effort and wandered through the living room and down the hall. There were a few playing cards scattered on the table, suggesting that Neil had been trying to make a house of cards but given up halfway. Kevin couldn't really blame him for that; assembling cards in such a way that they'd actually stay upright was yet another thing that had been more in Ryan's ballpark than in either of theirs. Still, that didn't explain where Neil was now...

"Neil? You there, bud?" Still being met with no answer, Kevin came to a stop outside the bathroom door, which was ajar with water pooling out from inside. "Oh, man, that's not a good sign..."

He gave a tentative knock, and when there was still no response, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that met his eyes when he did so immediately made his breath hitch and his blood run cold. The broken mirror over the vanity reflected his slack-jawed expression as he stared at the overflowing bathtub, the pair of still-clothed legs dangling over the rim, and the smudge of blood on the wall leading down to the head of the man those legs belonged to, slumped inside the tub with his head submerged in the water.

"Neil!!"

Kevin sprinted across the room to lift Neil out of the tub. It then took him a few seconds longer to turn off the faucet and pull the plug, as by that point the shock had turned to dread and his hands were shaking. Once the water was slowly starting to drain, he fell to his knees and pulled Neil tight to his chest, one hand clutching at the back of his soaked-through t-shirt while the other fumbled across the back of his head searching for the source of the blood. It didn't take long for him to find the slightly matted patch of damp hair indicating where Neil had banged his head against the wall. Kevin swallowed hard as dread leapt up to claw at his throat. The only question is... how long was he submerged?

"Neil," he whispered, and was almost embarrassed to hear how hoarsely his own voice came out. "Wake up. Please."

No response. Kevin reluctantly pulled back to hold Neil at an arm's length, and shuddered at how limply his friend's body flopped forward. He noticed, with a white-hot jolt of irrational anger, that the four-leaf clover was still in place. Fat lot of good that thing's done for him. He grabbed the clover and crumpled it in his fist, all the while tears pressed against the back of his eyes; he struggled not to let them fall. Damn it... first Ryan, now Neil... What kind of protector was he? What kind of friend?

He slammed his fist, the useless clover still clenched within, against the drenched floor tiles. At that moment, the lightbulb above his head exploded and sent sparking wires raining down around him. As soon as electricity met water, it sent a nasty shock through Kevin's veins; he screamed out of equal parts surprise and pain and scrambled up onto the countertop, which was barely wide enough to support him.

On the floor below, Neil's body convulsed. Then his eyes snapped open and he drew in a gasp that turned into a scream halfway through. Although touching his friend's hand sent the current through his own body for a moment, Kevin was quick to grab him anyway, and he managed to pull Neil safely out of the electrified water and into a fierce embrace. Neil kept shrieking, and he squirmed frantically around, not seeming to recognize his surroundings at first.

"It's alright, Neil," Kevin assured him despite how hard his own heart was pounding. "I've got you."

"Oh..." Neil's body slackened, and he pulled back to blink slowly at Kevin, realization dawning in his eyes. His cheeks coloured with embarrassment and he ducked his head. "Uh, thanks."

Neither of them said anything else, for lack of ability or perhaps willingness to put it into words. After a moment, Kevin realized he was still holding the clover, and he handed it back to Neil, who took it with a dip of his head and a murmur of acknowledgement, and pinned it to his soaking wet t-shirt.

Somehow out of everything in the room, themselves included, that little scrap of plant matter was still intact. And although he wasn't superstitious, that simple fact was what would stick in Kevin's mind for the rest of the day, turning it over until he could only conclude: Yep, there's definitely something weird going on with that thing.

*

Despite the many months he'd prowled the city, this was the vigilante's first time in the hideout of a proper gang. It looked about the way he expected: dimly lit, no windows, weapons hung up on the wall and cigarette butts littering the floor. The gang members, dressed primarily in leather jackets with a few in denim, lounged in chairs leaning too far back, or on top of tables, or on their motorcycles parked right in the middle of the room. Most of them didn't even notice the vigilante as he approached. They were too caught up chattering and cackling amongst themselves like a nest of overgrown crows. The one gang member who did seem to notice the vigilante from the get-go simply looked up at him with raised eyebrows and addressed him once he got close enough to strike.

"Hey, haven't seen you around before. Looking to join the club?"

"Hardly," he snarled. "This whole place is crawling with criminals."

The whole room broke into laughter at that. The vigilante gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. These people were different from the criminals he'd taken down before; between their numbers and all the weapons they had easy access to, they might just pose a serious threat if he wasn't careful.

"You're the ones, aren't you?" he went on once the laughter had died down and the gang members were all watching him with a mix of bemusement and curiosity. No trace of fear amongst them yet, but that would change... "Throwing bricks at innocent people, even seeking to damage their property. Absolutely detestable."

"Woah, hang on," another of the gang members cut in sharply, reaching for a weapon as they stood. "First off, the whole brick throwing thing was months ago. Second of all, we never did that to innocent people, you know!"

"Yeah!" yet another gang member cut in, pumping her fist in the air. "Only to those losers who blew up our boss!"

...Boss?

The vigilante slowly turned, a deeper chill than normal running down his spine, as a strangely familiar smug cackle echoed from behind him. He came face-to-face with a man in a tank top and baseball cap, sneering at him with his arms crossed. Max. Gulping, the vigilante took a step backward. He's their boss?

(How did he know that name? How had he known Wendy's name either, for that matter? Why, out of all the criminals in the city, did a select few ignite disproportionate resentment within him? He'd dealt with some of these people before, he knew, but when he tried to remember when and how it all just turned to slush in his brain.)

"Yep, those losers got what was coming to 'em," Max said. "Except not really, 'cause they didn't suffer enough. But it's okay, we'll get 'em extra hard next time."

"No..." For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the vigilante's voice shook with equal parts fury and sudden fear. "Don't you dare hurt them."

"Huh?" Max tilted his head, already slightly squinted eyes narrowing further. "Heyyy, wait a minute, aren't you one of--?"

Before he could finish that thought, the vigilante was upon him with a karate chop to the windpipe. It was a more reckless attack than he'd planned, and even as Max stumbled backward coughing, he could hear the rest of the gang grabbing their weapons and running up behind him. But it was fine; the vigilante could take them all on and then some. He could kill any number of people if it was for the sake of defending his friends.

(Friends? Did he have friends? Somehow it felt that he must have, once. But that was strange, because the only thing he could clearly remember himself ever being was a cold-blooded vigilante.)

*

"Don't you see? Society's the one to blame! It's society's fault that he had no choice but to become this way!"

As Kevin delivered this speech, waving his arms dramatically toward the focus of the scene, Neil spun the video camera around to point it toward himself. Hopefully the studio would think of the disorienting cinematography for this webisode as a bold artistic choice rather than thinking of it as amateurish and embarrassing. He then leapt back, breaking into maniacal laughter with his prop gun raised in the air. Under ideal circumstances, this role might have been better suited to Ryan, but... well, they couldn't stay hung up on him forever; they had a job to do.

"Eh-heh-heh! Thanks to society, I have the urge to kill!" Neil twirled around to show off his clown costume, while just out of frame, Kevin hastily put on a wig and fake mustache. "And now... I'll kill this innocent man, who's different than the guy who was talking a minute ago!"

(It was fascinating--fascinating and dumb--how a broken mirror and a bit of blood could set him off, but something as heavy as a gun in his hand only brought him the faintest twinge of discomfort, easily ignored for the sake of making a webisode. After all, as Kevin had assured him many times over the past few months, it was the gun and its villainous weilder who were to blame for what had happened to Ryan. On an intellectual level Neil knew that was true--and besides, if he hadn't deflected that bullet, all three of them would have died. But knowing that did nothing to redirect when and why the darkness in his brain manifested.)

Now, much to Neil's surprise as he took aim with his prop gun, Kevin shouted "Cut!" and walked across the abandoned lot they were filming in to turn the camera off.

Neil lowered the gun, confused, as his costar removed his costume with that now all-too-familiar look of concern etched across his face. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know... somehow I've just got a bad feeling about this," Kevin muttered. "Maybe try firing into the air a couple times first."

Neil complied, and was met with the expected result from the prop: a couple of clicks indicating an empty chamber. "You worry too much these days, Kev," he said as he fired one more blank into the sky and then lowered the prop again. "It's not a real gun; it can't--"

As he spoke, his finger accidentally pressed the trigger again, and he broke off with a yelp at the sudden burst of pain in his right foot. He dropped the apparently very real gun with a clatter and clutched at his injured appendage, losing his balance in the process. Kevin swore under his breath and rushed forward to catch him. Before his friend could reach him, Neil's other foot came down on a wide crack in the pavement. A chill ran through him, momentarily distracting him from the throbbing pain, but it passed as quickly as it arose without seeming to trigger any effects.

"By god, what's happening to you?" Kevin exclaimed as he grabbed Neil by the shoulders and held him upright. "You've been so unlucky lately, it... it almost seems like a curse."

"A curse?" Neil stiffened, but quickly forced himself to shrug and morphed his grimace into a dismissive eye-roll. "Pfft, what are you talking about? There's no curse! I've just been, y'know, having an off-day..."

"Neil." There was that concerned look again, that almost parental tone of voice, as Kevin stared him down and tightened his grip on Neil's shoulders. "A couple hours ago you almost died, and now... you can tell something weird is going on, right? And, look--" He sighed, gaze darkening. "I don't exactly know how to fix it, but whatever's happening, I can't just sit back and watch you succumb to it. I can't lose you, too, Neil... not after..."

He trailed off with a faint warble in his voice, lowering his head. Neil gulped, a heavy weight surfacing in his chest. It was true; though he hated to admit it, at this point it was hard to deny that he was cursed. And yet, even as his foot throbbed around the spot where the bullet was lodged and his shoe was slowly stained from within by his own blood, it was hard to convince himself that he should accept help. On some level, didn't he deserve this? Wasn't this a fitting comeuppance for getting one of his friends killed?

Yet here was his other friend, clutching at him ever tighter to the point where his grip on Neil's shoulders was nearly as painful as hitting his head or getting mildly electrocuted or shooting himself in the foot. I'm not the only one who lost Ryan, he reminded himself--another thing he knew perfectly well on an intellectual level, but easy to forget in practice. Kevin is hurting too. I shouldn't make him hurt any more.

"Fine, I admit it," he sighed, letting his tensed-up shoulders slump. "I'm unlucky, okay? And if you think it's possible--" He tore the clover off his shirt and glared down at it-- "then we're going to beat this thing."

*

For as tough as the gang presented themselves, it must have been most of these people's first time in an actual fight. The vigilante swerved to avoid weak punches, clumsy kicks, poor attempts at stabbing. It all blended together after a while, and he stopped thinking of the gang members as individuals; they were just an indistinguishable swarm of insects whose attacks were easily dodged. Unimportant, save for their leader.

The vigilante had Max pinned to the floor now, holding his thrashing form in place with one arm while he brought his other fist down on the ruffian's face, over and over, as hard as he could. Not every blow connected cleanly, and Max had managed to bite him several times already, but that was irrelevant. Criminals must be brought to justice. That was why the vigilante hated these people, wasn't it? Because they were criminals. Yes, what other reason could he have, when this was all he'd ever been?

And then, just as he managed to land a blow to Max's jaw that left him defiantly spitting out blood and a couple of teeth, the vigilante's spine snapped.

It took a moment for him to register what had happened. He just heard a loud crack, and a sharp pain shot through him, and suddenly he couldn't hold his legs in place and collapsed. Max wasted no time taking advantage; he delivered a kick to the vigilante's gut that sent him flying back across the room, where he hit a wall and slumped to the ground, gasping in breathless agony. At once the other gang members closed in on him. Grimacing, the vigilante drew himself up onto his hands and knees, then braced himself against the wall and, with a far greater strain of effort than expected, dragged himself upright. By the time he'd managed to get to his feet, dozens of knives were inches away from him.

Then, to his surprise, Max pushed through to the front of the crowd and held his arms out to hold back his underlings. "Nuh-uh, this one's mine," he told them, sneering as though oblivious to the blood dribbling from between his lips. "I said I'd get him twice tomorrow, and I meant it."

The vigilante flinched as Max took a swipe at him. But rather than a fist connecting with his face, he was met only with the shock of exposure as the bully grabbed his mask and triumphantly yanked it off his face. He was left dumbfounded, blinking, as his vision readjusted to the light.

Wait a minute, I remember--

And then came the punch, square in the nose. Ryan yelped, pressing his gloved hand over his nose to stop the bleeding. When he dodged another punch, his body failed to cooperate and he crashed to the ground again, back aching furiously and heart pounding against his ribcage.

How and why his back had broken, he couldn't say, but one thing was clear: he was horrendously outmatched. Max was saying something now, gloating as he advanced on Ryan with a dagger in his hands, but Ryan couldn't make out the words over the blood rushing in his head. Why on earth had he gotten into a fight like this in the first place? What was he doing? He had to get out of there!

With that thought, yet another thing happened that Ryan didn't entirely understand. (Ryan didn't understand, but the vigilante did. It was one of the few things the vigilante knew: dissolve, reform, enact ruthless vengeance, dissolve again.) His body shuddered, and suddenly he found his solid flesh and bone giving way to a slurry of blood and ice that slipped through the cracks in the floor and disappeared. Then he was formless, freefalling through the dark, or at least that was what it felt like. When he took shape again it felt like dragging himself out of quicksand. Yet when he raised his slowly resolidifying head and looked around, he found himself in the basement of his own home, staring up at the portraits of his ancestors that had started it all.

No. Not started it all. "I had a life before this," he whispered, voice raw with the shock of memory and too many months spent speaking in an inhuman growl. "My name is Ryan, I have a life and a job and friends, I..."

Yes, that's right. Friends. Where were they? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Each recent memory that took form in his mind was accompanied by a crashing wave of guilt and regret, and soon his body shook and tears pricked at his wrenched-shut eyes. That's right... I became a vigilante, and I teamed up with such a horrible person, let him manipulate me, all because I was too afraid to go back and apologize. And then...

The last thing he remembered, just after the flash of light and shock of paralyzing cold, was the sound of a gunshot, something shattering, and Neil screaming.

"Oh, dear god," Ryan whispered. He raised his head, opening his eyes and lowering his hands from his newly tear-stained face, and sat back on his heels as though worshipping the paintings before him. "What have I become?"

*

The ropes were just slightly too tight around Neil's limbs to be comfortable; he couldn't resist squirming a little as Kevin laid out the open bible on the end table next to his proton pack and began reading from it.

"Okay, um, let's see... ex-or-ciz-amus te, omnis immunde spiritus..." He squinted at the yellowed, faded pages, biting his lip. "Omni satanica pot-es-tas, omnis incurs--incursio infernalis adversarii... uh..."

"You're doing great," Neil called from his position tied to the bed frame; Kevin gave him a weary smile and thumbs up.

As Kevin continued reciting the verse, occasionally stumbling over a particularly tricky Latin word, the room's temperature eventually dropped a few degrees. Neil shivered, but his heartbeat picked up in excitement. He could feel something stirring in his blood like ripples on a lake, and when the furniture in the room began to quiver, so too did his body in eager anticipation.

"...Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux..." A chill wind swept through the room; Kevin gritted his teeth, one hand pressing down on the bible to hold its pages in place while he grabbed his proton pack with the other. "Vade retro Satana! Nun-quam-suade mihi vana!"

The furniture rumbled louder. Neil's eyes widened as an entire bookcase lifted off the ground. "Kevin, watch out!"

"Hang on, Neil, I'm almost done. Uh, where was I... sunt mala quae libas..."

"No, Kevin, the--"

"Just one more line, okay? Ipse ven--"

"KEVIN!"

That last terrified yell was what it took for Kevin to finally turn, just in time to see the six-foot block of polished oak fly directly into him. Neil shrieked and thrashed against his bindings with all his might, but even if he weren't tied up, there was nothing he could have done. The bookcase came crashing down, its contents spilling out onto the floor around it in a flurry of paper. And when the dust settled, Kevin was pinned beneath it, unmoving.

"N... no..." Neil whimpered. Dread tightened like a noose around his throat as the horrible thought seeped into his mind: This is because of me. Now I've gotten them both killed.

"Oh, yes, what a tragedy... just your luck, isn't it?"

Neil's blood ran cold. He raised his head to see the translucent, smoke-shrouded figure of a giant clover looming over him. Its four leaves, dark green tipped with crimson and speckled with barnacles, opened down the middle to reveal a row of needle-sharp fangs. For a second, "Where did you come from?" was on the tip of Neil's tongue. But it was just as well that he was too terrified to speak, because no sooner than the question appeared in his mind, he realized the obvious answer. Oh, right. This is the demon that cursed me.

"Don't worry, your friend is alive... for now," the demon jeered. "But that could change. It's so easy for accidents to happen, you know?"

As if to demonstrate, the demon's leaves fluttered and suddenly a fire sprang up dangerously close to the scattered pile of books on the floor. When Neil screamed in protest, the demon laughed, and part of the ceiling gave in, sending down a controlled shower of debris to put out the fire before anything flammable could catch.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Neil exclaimed with a shake of his head; he'd be almost exasperated if he weren't so terrified. "You're really powerful and want to hurt people, geez, not exactly a challenging concept. So, what do I have to do?"

That question seemed to give the demon pause. "...Do?"

"You know, to appease you or whatever. If you're threatening me with Kevin's life, then there must be something you want from me, right?" An idea occurred to Neil just then, and his already hammering heart beat even harder, to the point where he hoped the demon couldn't hear it and tell how freaked out he was. "Hey, it must suck having to be a clover. What if a lawnmower or forest fire had gotten to you before I did? And if you like hurting people so much..." He paused, smirking as the demon leaned toward him with obvious interest. "Wouldn't it be easier just to possess my whole body instead of wasting time messing with my luck?"

"That's..." The demon hesitated, its leaves curling up in what looked like excitement. "Ah. Ah-ha-ha! You're a clever little mortal, aren't you?"

"But don't get it twisted," he put in, glaring defiantly up at the demon despite hardly being in a position to threaten anyone. "You have to promise not to hurt anyone else. Especially not Kevin."

"It's a deal!"

Before Neil could stop and reconsider whether this was really a good idea, the demon dove toward him, row of fangs wide open as though it were going to bite his head off. He flinched a split-second before something cold and stinging like nettles clamped around him.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was tinted dark green as if viewed through a dingy screen, his head felt hazy... and he couldn't move, at least not of his own volition. Even opening his eyes just then wasn't his decision. He heard himself cackle, felt his arms and legs flex far harder than he'd known he was physically capable of flexing, breaking the ropes that bound him to the bed frame and setting his body free to do whatever the demon wanted.

"Hah..." the demon muttered in his voice as it made him walk over to where Kevin lay, still trapped and unconscious. The demon knelt down and poked experimentally at Kevin's shoulder and forearm. "This one has more muscle. It might have been a better choice for possession, if it wasn't so damaged already..."

For one petrifying moment, the demon grabbed Kevin's head and stared intently at him, stretching Neil's face into a grin so wide it made his whole face ache, and Neil's mind raced with horrible thoughts of things the demon might make his own hands inflict upon his poor helpless friend. But the demon simply laughed and dropped Kevin, who let out a low groan as his head lolled to the side--an indication that at least he really was still alive. But all of a sudden Neil had trouble believing that small mercy was really worth it.

"Ah, well, this body will do," the demon decided. "Let's take it out on the town and see how long it lasts!"

*

This time when the vigilante materialized in Wendy's room, she did little more than roll her eyes and move to grab her baseball bat. However, rather than try to attack her or even growl out any threats, the vigilante took two shaky steps and then collapsed, catching himself against her dresser. Wendy's eyes widened as she took a closer look at his face. His mask was off now, revealing a pair of striking blue eyes glistening with obvious distress, cheeks flushed with exertion, and a streak of half-dried blood running from his bruised nose. And when he spoke, it wasn't in the gravelly tone she'd heard from him before, but in a quiet higher-pitched voice--almost a whimper.

"Please... tell me..."

Wendy hung back, caught between a sharp tug of sympathy in her heart and a very rational wariness based on their previous encounter. The vigilante tried to walk again, and again nearly fell; his face wrenched up and he let out a pained hiss. At that, sympathy won out over rationality. Wendy edged toward him with her baseball bat in hand, and when she was close enough, held it out to him.

"Hey, uh... here. It's not exactly medically sanctioned, but maybe you could use this like a cane?"

"Oh... good idea, thank you!" He broke into a grin, and Wendy shivered; somehow he was far scarier when his eyes were bright and cheerful. "Terribly sorry for how I treated you last time, by the way. I really wasn't myself."

"Uh-huh?" While the vigilante tested out the makeshift cane, Wendy sat down on her bed, arms crossed. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ryan... or at least I think I still am." His smile faltered, and he looked away, anxiously running a hand through his hair. It was starting to come unpinned, and his hat was askew; evidently he'd been through a lot in the few hours it had been since their first encounter. "It's been... strange, lately. I don't think I'm entirely human anymore, if I ever was. But I came back here because there's something I want to understand."

"You want to know why I ghosted your friend?" It was just a guess, but Ryan nodded; Wendy smiled privately to herself for having figured it out. "Alright, I can tell you..."

She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on her bed, thinking back to the disastrous date she'd gone on several months prior. It was a story she'd recited many times to friends, relatives, other first dates as sort of a half-joking warning ("So, as long as you don't blow it as much as that guy did, we should be good...") and the more she told it, the more warped and exaggerated it became within her memory. But when she really thought back on it now, it hadn't been so disastrous at all--pretty damn awkward, sure, but not even close to the worst date she'd been on.

"Kevin actually seemed really sweet," she recalled, smiling despite herself at the memory of his big dorky grin. "I would have gone on a second date with him. But then, first thing the next morning, I read in the news that some guy got arrested right outside the restaurant while we were on our date. And the criminal's name? Neil. Same name as the 'friend' Kevin had said was helping him out." She shrugged, lips twisting into a frown. "I just got kinda freaked out, you know? Like, 'oh geez, did I go on a date with a drug dealer or serial killer or something?' Of course it probably wasn't anything that serious, and pretending to be dead was probably an overreaction, but... well, what's done is done."

Wendy was so caught up in her own memories as she explained all this that she wasn't really observing Ryan's reactions. Once she concluded her story, she glanced over to find him sitting on the floor with his legs tucked up awkwardly beneath him, the baseball bat in his lap; he was staring at the floor, expression unreadable. He stayed like that for a long moment, not seeming to notice that Wendy had stopped talking, until she cleared her throat. Then he jumped to attention, eyes flashing like those of a woodland cryptid in headlights.

"Ah! Yes, of course... well, I still don't entirely understand, but I think I resent you less now." Ryan tilted his head and shot her another shiver-inducing grin. (Whether it was supposed to be threatening or not, she had no idea.) "And you're right; I almost forgot--we're all criminals too, Neil and probably even Kevin and especially myself! So how can I be a vigilante?" He answered his own rhetorical question with a shake of his head, manic grin softening into a melancholy smile. "It's ridiculous. I've been so foolish."

With that, his body began to ripple, losing a little of its solidity. But before he could break apart and dissolve through the floorboards like last time, a chirpy little beep-beep-beedle-beep noise rang out. Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced down at an accessory around his wrist... Wait, is that one of those communicator watches like the one Kevin had?

If it was, Ryan wasn't quick to answer it. He simply stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the beeping device in silence. Although she knew even less about Ryan than she knew about his apparently only slightly more normal friends, and she didn't normally care to get too involved in the personal affairs of strangers, he was still in the middle of Wendy's bedroom. And the longer that little jingle repeated, the more annoying it got. So she cleared her throat again and asked, in as polite a tone as she could manage given the circumstances,

"So, are you gonna answer that, or what?"

*

It was a stupid, pointless idea. Not an idea at all, really. Just the last scraps of... not even hope, that was pretty much deplenished at the moment, but effort. The effort not to let everything fall apart even further than it already had.

Kevin had woken with a throbbing pain throughout pretty much his whole body. Judging by the crushing weight pressing down on his torso, he was lucky to have woken up at all. The only parts of him not pinned down were his head and right arm, and even those hurt to move, though at least the spinning in his head put some degree of separation between himself and his broken body. Forget about trying to wriggle free when it hurt just to breathe.

So there he was, stuck, the shelf slowly crushing the air out of him, and Neil was gone. Where to, he didn't know. When he craned his neck he could see the empty bed frame, and the ropes broken and discarded at the foot of it. The bible he'd gotten from Ryan's house was facedown beside the tipped-over end table, next to a crushed and twisted lump of metal and plastic that he was horrified to recognize as his beloved proton pack. So wherever Neil was now, he must have still been cursed... or worse. And there was nothing Kevin could do about it.

Unless. Grimacing at the way his joints twinged, he raised his unpinned arm above his head. There on his wrist, perfectly intact despite everything he'd been through, was his communicator wristwatch. In all the hubbub of that day, he'd never gotten around to mentioning them to Neil, so his friend wouldn't be wearing his. But what if...?

It was stupid. It was pointless. There was no way in hell. But it was the only thing he could do. In a display so lacking in dignity that he was grateful nobody was around to see it, Kevin used his teeth and tongue for lack of a free hand to dial in the frequency and send off a signal. The watch's screen flashed in affirmation; he let his head flop against the floor with a weary sigh. Now all he could do was wait.

When he was at Ryan's house going through his things, and he found those communicator wristwatches, he'd only found two of them. And although that could have meant a dozen different things, there was just one wild, far-fetched possibility that any last semblance of hope now rested upon: that the third watch was missing because Ryan was alive, and he was still wearing his.

He didn't expect to get a response. By the time he did, he was struggling to stay awake--funny thing, trying to breathe with fifty pounds of wood pressed directly on your chest really takes it out of you. But he snapped to attention, or the closest he could get when his head was swimming and his body was beginning to go numb from lack of circulation, the moment he heard that voice crackling through the speaker.

"H-hello? Kevin?"

The relief that coursed through his veins was so overwhelming, especially on top of everything else, that he could only laugh--only for it to quickly turn into hacking as his ribs offered a sharp jab of protest. He raised his sleeve to wipe away a streak of blood that dribbled from his lips before speaking into the watch.

"Ryan. Where are you?" He regretted wasting time with that question the moment he asked it; he could tell from the way his organs felt like they were curling in on themselves as he spoke that he didn't have the energy for a full conversation. So before Ryan could stammer out a proper response, Kevin continued: "Neil is in trouble. You've gotta help him."

"What?" The shrill uptick of anxiety in Ryan's voice was palpable, and even just hearing that voice in and of itself stirred up a whole miasma of feelings that there was no time to properly react to. "What's going on? Are you okay? You sound--"

"I'm fine," Kevin lied through gritted teeth. "And... I don't know exactly where Neil is, but I know he's in trouble." A choking mix of emotions and his own blood swelled in his throat as his slowly blurring gaze wandered to the facedown bible. "I've tried to do some stuff today that I couldn't do without you. I-- we need you, Ryan. So, please... help."

With that final plea, something broke within him like a dam that he hadn't even realized was cracking. His arm flopped to the ground, wrist landing near his ear, where the communicator watch kept emitting Ryan's voice as it slowly rose in pitch until he was almost shouting. But even as his friend called frantically out to him, Kevin found it harder to make out the words. He groaned, letting his head loll to the side and his eyes fall shut. The last sensation he was aware of as darkness closed around him was that there was something wet on his face.

*

"Kevin, are you still there? Hello? Kevin!"

He wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he be responding, if the situation was so urgent? Maybe because he couldn't respond. Because he was--

"What are you going to do?" Wendy's voice cut into the swirl of panic Ryan was rapidly descending into. She hovered over his shoulder, peering down at the watch with wide, anxious eyes. The watch's screen had gone dark. No signal. Yes, indeed, what to do?

"What else? I have to save Neil."

If Kevin didn't know where Neil was, then there was no way that Ryan should have been able to instantly find him. But when he closed his eyes and let his vigilante instincts take over, he found that he didn't have to know where someone was. Whatever dark magic was infused in him now, letting him exist in this not-quite-human state even after what should by all accounts have been his death, it was hardwired for vengeance. And saving Neil meant exacting vigilante justice on whoever or whatever was harming him. With that in mind, the vigilante dissolved in a flurry of blood-tinted ice and reformed seconds later in the place it somehow knew it needed to be.

The first thing Ryan noticed when he appeared on the rooftop was the storm brewing overhead. He raised his eyebrows at that; earlier that day there hadn't been a cloud in the sky--and for that matter, when he looked around, it appeared that most of the sky was still perfectly clear, with the storm clouds being localized around this building. The second thing he noticed, upon peering over the edge of the roof, was that he wasn't on just any rooftop, but a skyscraper that towered above every other building in the vicinity. Lastly, he noticed a flagpole at the far corner of the rooftop, several feet away from him. And that was when his gaze fell upon Neil.

Neil was laughing as he swayed back and forth, clad in a brightly patterned jacket that wasn't his usual style at all, his arms and legs wrapped tight around the tall metal pole. Above him, the dark clouds lit up in a flash, followed almost instantly by a rumble of thunder. Although these particular stormclouds didn't come with rain, Ryan shivered. An incredulous exclamation was on the tip of his tongue (What on earth are you doing, stop it, you'll be killed!) when Neil locked eyes with Ryan, and he realized with a jolt of horror that this wasn't Neil at all--his body, yes, but someone or something else was controlling it. His mouth was stretched into a grin far wider than what a human face could normally achieve, and rather than their usual brown, his eyes glowed a sickly shade of green.

"Why, if it isn't my dear friend Ryan!" Neil--or whatever was piloting him--called, raising one arm off the pole in an exaggerated wave. "Oh boy, the guy I got this body from is sure surprised to see you alive! And as much as I'd love to send you plummeting off the edge of this building, I did promise not to hurt anyone else, so..." He waved his hand in a circle, unnaturally glowing eyes crinkling with amusement. "How about instead I pull you in a little closer so you can get a nice good look when your friend's body fries?"

With that, a sudden gust of wind blew into Ryan from behind, sending him stumbling forward. When he attempted to regain his footing, his broken spine betrayed him once again and he flopped to the ground with an undignified oof just a few feet away from the base of the flagpole. Grimacing, he pushed himself up and crawled the remaining short distance to grab Neil's ankle. As he did so, he noticed there was a bloodstained hole in his friend's shoe, and that his pant leg was slightly damp and already bore a few singe marks. Between that and whatever had happened to Kevin... he shuddered at the thought of what his friends had gone through in his absence.

"Nice try, vigilante," the thing in Neil's body jeered. "But I've gotta say, you don't pose much of a threat since I broke your spine."

He stomped his other foot down on Ryan's hand; Ryan yelped and instinctively released his grip. And at the very instant he let go, in such perfectly unlucky timing that only a supernatural entity could orchestrate, the stormclouds above them opened up with a searing, crackling, blindingly bright lighting strike.

Neil tilted his head back and laughed at the top of his lungs as countless volts of electricity tore through him. That horrendous laughter drowned out Ryan's screams of protest, not that there was anything he could do anyway in his current state, when he couldn't so much as get to his feet. All he could do was lay there and gape in horror as Neil's body shuddered and his flesh began to sizzle and burn.

Though it felt like an eternity of torture, the lightning strike couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. When it ended, Neil dropped like a ragdoll into Ryan's arms. Ryan, too stricken to even check for a pulse, simply stared blankly into his friend's glazed-over eyes. Then Neil blinked, and his eyes were glowing green again, and he laughed, the sound rougher now that it was being produced by a charred set of lungs.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! I wasn't expecting this body to survive that! Can you believe Neil is still kicking in here?" He tapped a finger against his head, then sat up with a playful kick of his legs. "...Or is he? It would be just like a demon to lie, wouldn't it?" He grabbed Ryan's chin with his burnt and blackened fingernails and forcefully tilted his head up so their gazes met. "You can't tell, can you, vigilante? So, how hard are you willing to throw your broken body around to try and save someone who might already be toast? Maybe you should just give up and go on with your day, hmm?"

While the demon taunted him, Ryan's mind raced to concoct a plan. Some miraculous last-minute solution that would fix everything... Neil would be able to think of one. Perhaps he already had. But that wouldn't do them any good when Neil was trapped and helpless within his own mind. If this really was a demon, and a powerful one at that, the only thing that might work was an impromptu exorcism.

"Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux! Vade retro Satana!" Reciting the passage from memory as rapidly as he could without tripping over his tongue, Ryan grabbed Neil by the wrists and held him tight while he hissed and tried to jerk away. "Nunquamsuade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!"

An ungodly noise somewhere between a shriek and a roar erupted from Neil as he tossed his head back and convulsed. It was far too visually similar for comfort to his electrocution less than a minute prior, and Ryan wondered if the demon was doing it that way on purpose in an attempt to scare him into stopping. If so, it wouldn't work. Even if this process was as painful for Neil as it was for the demon possessing him, it had to be done.

Sure enough, as the final line of the chant echoed across the rooftop, Neil shuddered and slumped to the ground next to Ryan. When their gazes met this time, the demonic glow was gone, but Neil was breathing fast and shallow and his eyes were wide with lingering terror.

"Ryan," he whispered. "You're... alive."

"I think so," he replied with a tentative smile. "It's all a little confusing. But we're going to be okay now, Neil."

However, no sooner had those words left his mouth than Neil stiffened up again, eyes momentarily flashing green. "No," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if to dispel the demon's grasp. "Not yet. Still gotta... get rid of it..." He grabbed Ryan's hands and held them desperately tight, like a scared child clinging to their parent or older sibling. His eyes flashed once more, and this time when the glow faded, his face bore a strained smile. "I've got an idea. Ryan, don't freak out."

And with that, before Ryan could process what was happening and reach out to stop him, Neil sprung to his feet and took a running leap off the edge of the building.

*

For a while now, Neil had been having unusually vivid dreams. They weren't always nightmares, but they often were. Dreams about different worlds, different realities, different lives. Ones where him and Kevin and Ryan weren't all friends. Or worse, ones where they still were, but that wasn't enough to save them. One of those recent dreams, which began as an exciting fantasy only to devolve into a nightmare, was about some kind of flying vehicle. Ever since having that dream, Neil had made two vows to himself. Firstly, that as soon as he gathered the funds to afford it, he'd go back to school and complete his aeronautical engineering degree. Secondly, to always carry a parachute, just in case.

But the demon possessing him had no way of knowing that, now did it? And it wouldn't want to still be trapped inside a host body that was splattered all over the pavement. That was what Neil was banking on, at least. Otherwise he might really be in trouble.

As he fell, a stinging sensation rippled through his body. He shuddered, yet there was a smile on his face--no longer a grin stretched unnaturally wide, but an expression of his own volition--and his heart pounded not with terror but with exhilaration and boundless relief. Sure enough, the demon leapt forth from him and departed in a swirl of green smoke. And with it gone, he wasted no time in engaging the parachute--just in time to slow his acceleration enough that the fall wouldn't kill him.

Admittedly, he didn't exactly come down gracefully. He landed in a tangle of limbs and fabric that he had to shrug off the borrowed jacket, parachute and all, in order to escape, and the landing was just rough enough to deliver a painful reminder of the electrical burns covering the better part of his body. Still, Neil couldn't stop grinning as he gingerly picked himself up and dusted himself off. He was alive and no longer possessed; that was a win in his book.

When he craned his neck to look up at the roof, he thought he saw Ryan still sitting there. Neil grimaced as he recalled what the demon had said about breaking Ryan's back; hopefully that injury was undone with the demon being vanquished, but since Neil's injuries were still there, maybe that wasn't so. Either way, he couldn't just leave his friend up there alone.

As quickly as he could run with a bullet wound in his foot, he entered the building and took the closest elevator to the rooftop. But by the time the elevator chimed and its doors slid open, the rooftop was abandoned, with no sign of Ryan save for an abandoned hat, cape, and gloves, and a slowly fading dark red stain.

*

If Kevin hadn't already been surprised to wake up alive the first time, he sure as hell was now. The only reason he knew he was alive at all was the deep, persistent ache that wracked practically his entire body. That, and the warmth of the hand laid atop his own.

Forcing his eyes open with a pained groan, he turned his head to see the man sitting at his bedside. Ryan squeezed his hand and flashed him a sad smile when their eyes met. His vigilante costume was gone, traded for a simple dress shirt and tie, and his hair fell unpinned around his visibly tired face; the chair he sat in, upon closer inspection, was an old-fashioned wheelchair.

With some effort, Kevin pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he found that he was laying on the couch in the living room with his chest bandaged. How Ryan had managed to pull him out from beneath the bookcase, he had no idea, but he sure wasn't going to complain about it.

"Ryan, you... you're hurt?" It was a stupid question--why else would he be in a wheelchair? "Did the demon...?"

"It's gone now," Ryan responded. "But..." His gaze lowered, and he dropped his hands into his lap to fidget with the blanket draped over his legs. "It was a costly victory, I'm afraid. In order to defeat the demon, Neil--"

His tearful speech was interrupted by the distant bang of the front door being thrown open.

"Geez, you could've told me you were going straight home!" Neil's indignant voice rang out down the hall. "I wandered all over town looking for you."

Ryan's head snapped up, and he and Kevin turned in unison to see their friend running toward them with a slightly crooked gait. With a cry of joyous disbelief, Ryan opened his arms, and Neil tackled him in an embrace that nearly sent him toppling over; Kevin had to lean forward to grab the back of Ryan's chair to keep him upright as he and Neil clung to each other.

"Neil, you're alive! I-I thought..."

"It's okay, Ryan," said Neil. Then, pulling back and glancing at Kevin with a melancholy smile: "I think we're all going to be okay."

*

"So, what do you think?"

As the ending credits rolled on their latest webisode, Neil and Kevin turned to face Ryan with matching expectant grins.

"Well..." Ryan drummed his fingers against the keys of the laptop and tried to think of something positive to say. "The costumes you used were a lot more fashionable than usual--wait, hold on. Weren't those my clothes?"

They were in Kevin's truck parked outside the studio's headquarters, with Neil in the passenger seat and Ryan in the back. It had taken a little over a week for them to recover to the point where they could comfortably climb inside a vehicle, let alone Kevin being able to actually drive, and the studio had already sent them several notes warning them that their pay would be docked for submitting their webisode behind schedule.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that," Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"To be fair, if he hadn't broken into your house and stolen a bunch of stuff from you, he couldn't have called you on your communicator watch," Neil interjected cheerfully. "Or tried to do an exorcism... but I guess that didn't really work out for him anyway."

"Hey, c'mon, it wasn't stealing!" Kevin gave Neil a gentle shove, prompting him to briefly wince but laugh anyway. "If we'd known you were still alive, we wouldn't have taken your stuff, Ryan, honest."

"Ah, I'll have to remember that for next time," Ryan quipped. He closed the laptop and handed it back to Neil, who tucked it away inside an oversized shoulder bag. "Well, that may not have been the best webisode we've made, but I can tell you two did your best."

"Yeah, it'll be way better once we get back to making them as a trio," Neil said.

It was still amazing to Ryan that his friends were so quick to accept him back after all he'd done. If anything, it made him feel worse about his prolonged absence, because he knew now that he could have come back at any point and they would have been glad to have him. It was easy to fall into regret when thinking of all that had gone wrong, and all that could easily have gone even worse. But the fact was, they were together again now--altered by what they'd gone through, and not entirely for the better, but still themselves.

And despite it all, the preceding events and the possibility that another horrible thing could happen to them in the future, he found himself agreeing with Neil's hopeful statement.

"Indeed..." Ryan reached out and took Neil and Kevin's hands in his own. They smiled back at him with the same residual traces of relief in their eyes that Ryan had felt every so often over the past week--relief that they were still there to smile at each other. "Gentlemen, I look forward to working with you again."

¤--END--¤

[kpop-zone]

1,2,5,7 | Irene

Wordcount: 2,220

Genre: fluff

Request: Can you do a scenario where Irene is insecure about her relationship w male or genderneutral S/O because of their age gap but S/O reassures her everything is okay. Fluff please and thank you for your hard work

“No, no, no. You have to snap first, then swing and slide out of the picture at the end.”

As soon as Joohyun opened the front door, she could hear a turmoil of voices, music and laughter coming from one of the rooms. In confusion, she furrowed her brow, pricking her ears in order to find out where the source of the noise was located. It was a task that didn’t demand a lot of her time due to the small size of the apartment and she let her feet carry her to Yeri’s room. The door was left ajar wherefore Joohyun lightly gave it a push in order to be able to stick her head through the gap unnoticed.

Inside of the room, she was met with chaos. Yeri and you were standing in front of her bed where Sooyoung was placed strategically, holding a phone that was recording the two of you executing a number of dance moves that were unknown to Joohyun.

“Ok let’s take it from the top.”

Yeri piped up and you nodded in agreement.

Sooyoung gave the two of you a thumbs up before pressing a button on the screen and letting the camera roll again. Simultaneously, Yeri and you started dancing until you clumsily bumped your heads together. Wild laughter broke out in the room and you fell to the floor holding your belly.

“Oops I suppose it was the other left.”

You choked out between laughter while Yeri jokingly hit you for your mistake.

“Maybe we’re not meant to be TikTok famous.”

Sooyoung giggled on the bed before turning off the camera that had been recording the mess until now.

All of you seemed to have the time of your lives and Joohyun was happy to see the wide smile on your face, but at the same time, something seemed to be painfully tugging on her heartstrings: her insecurities. Your relationship hadn’t always been smooth; the two of you had actually had a rocky start. You were perfect in every regard. You were gorgeous, smart, funny, chivalrous... Joohyun could go on and on. Nevertheless, you had one flaw. Your age.

In the beginning, Joohyun hadn’t even taken your advances serious. You were so young, and she simply thought that you were fooling around. Besides, she couldn’t risk staining her scandal-free reputation. She knew that dating someone a lot younger was frowned upon in society. But you had been so persistent; trying to win her over relentlessly until she couldn’t deny her heart its way. You weren’t immature like some others your age and you had seriously sparked her interest. She wanted to get to know you better and eventually accepted your dinner invitation.

After that night, Joohyun had never really managed to cut herself off from you again and the two of you soon made your relationship official. Everything was working great, except that she hadn’t been able to shake another thing aside from you. Something else had stuck to her ever since; something that was making her heart sink right now like so many times before. Her insecurities.

What would the public say if they found out about your relationship? Did you even know yet what you truly wanted? Could she even give you that?

You always assured her that the age gap didn’t matter; the two of you weren’t doing anything illegal after all. Love wasn’t based on mathematics or logic. Nevertheless, moments like this were able to overthrow all of your good arguments over and over again. You always seemed to be so happy when you were with someone more your age. What benefit did you have dating someone like her? You were making her feel young, but what was she giving you in return? She was probably only stopping you from doing reckless, and foolish stuff.

A desperate sigh accidentally slipped through Joohyun’s lips that made her hold her breath. She didn’t want to be caught lurking, but it was already too late. Three pairs of eyes landed on her the same time and one face lit up in particular.

“Joohyun!”

You exclaimed happily before leaping to your feet to come closer.

Joohyun, who was still caught up in her tangled thoughts, didn’t move an inch, but that didn’t seem to bother you. Gently you rested your hand on her hip and pressed a kiss on her cheek, very closely to her mouth.

“Had a good day?”

You asked when you pulled away, parading your perfect smile that had always managed to make her heart beat faster. Not wanting to worry you, Joohyun quickly nodded before steering her gaze to the floor in order to avoid your X-ray vision. But apparently you had already noticed her inner struggle. Automatically, you tightened your grip on her hip and pulled her subtly closer.

“Guys, I’m gonna grab a bite. Let’s continue later.”

You said over your shoulder without awaiting a response from the others before gently pushing Joohyun through the apartment to the kitchen. She didn’t refuse your guiding hand, nevertheless, Joohyun knew that she didn’t want to talk about her worries. You would probably just play them off and there wasn’t really a solution anyways. Wordlessly, she sat down at the kitchen counter as you grabbed some leftovers from the fridge to heat them up while tensed silence soon surrounded you.

“So...how was work?”

You asked eventually to break the silence, causing Joohyun to almost sigh in relief; apparently you were thinking that her taciturnity was caused by an incident at work.

“Stressful like always.”

She answered rather shortly, not wanting to make up a reason for her changed demeanor.

You kept asking a few more questions to probe, but Joohyun blocked all of your efforts to get a conversation started until silence settled between the two of you again and nothing but the eventual clattering of your plates could be heard in the room. The atmosphere was incredibly uncomfortable and Joohyun felt like all the unanswered questions in her head were slowly creeping up her throat and choking her. She needed answers, but at the same time, she felt like she needed to be the bigger person. What use would it be to burden you with her worries?

Eventually, however, she couldn’t take the silence anymore and coughed silently to cut the tension.

“Um...the dance Yeri and you have been doing seemed to be fun. I’m guessing, I’m too old for that.”

Joohyun chuckled jokingly, although she couldn’t be more worried about that topic. She hadn’t intended to steer the conversation in that direction, but in her mind the pictures of her younger members and you dancing together kept playing on repeat, making it impossible to think about anything else. Sheepishly, she glanced up from her plate to observe your reaction. You had stopped eating and tilted your head as if you were thinking about her statement concentratedly.

“Yeah it’s a new trend. Everyone is doing it. You could too. You’re not too old, Joohyun. I’m sure your fans would love to see you uploading such videos more often.”

For a second, your gaze lingered on her, causing Joohyun to quickly start playing with her food to distract herself. She only hummed in response to your statement, not wanting to get more into that topic. You seemed to have caught up to her intention and dropped the conversation, deciding to let the rest of your dinner pass in silence.

The unspoken words between the two of you, however, stayed as an unpleasant disturbance, making it obvious to Joohyun that you weren’t satisfied with her silence. You didn’t address her weird behavior though and so she hoped that time would make you forget all about it. And her plan seemed to have worked. A week passed without you bringing up the most silent dinner that you had ever spent together and Joohyun began working on pushing her insecurities back to her subconscious and into oblivion. A slightly bitter taste stayed and it still felt like you were rubbing salt in her wound whenever you talked about your friends that were much younger than her or used some slang word that she had never heard of, but that was just a subtle pain that she had almost grown used to.

Joohyun was ready to leave this dilemma behind.

There was not much that she could do about it anyways. She would enjoy this relationship as long as it lasted and if you should end up leaving her, she would accept it and simply hold onto the memories that you had made together. She would not bring this topic up and ask for an affirmation of your love.

You, however, seemed to have made other plans.

It was a normal Friday evening when Joohyun was coming home from a dance practice unsuspectingly. As soon as she unlocked the front door though, she realized that something was different. The apartment was only dimly lit and a lot quieter than usual. There was also a subtle smell of some delicious food in the air and Joohyun reflexively closed her eyes to savor the much-needed tranquility. Some clattering from the kitchen, however, made her open her eyes again and she walked into the apartment, suddenly noticing photos being scattered across the whole place.

“What’s going on?”

Joohyun mumbled dumbfounded while slowly spinning around to scan her surroundings.

The sound of nearing footsteps caused her to halt her movements and she saw you standing in the doorframe of the kitchen, dressed in an apron with a satisfied smile on your lips.

“What’s all that?”

Joohyun gasped shocked, letting her gaze wander in the room, still finding more and more pictures.

“A reminder.”

You answered softly while walking closer to her.

“A reminder?”

Joohyun asked confused, contemplating whether today was a special day.

“Yes, a reminder to show you how insanely happy you have made me ever since I know you.”

Your words caused Joohyun’s face to heat up and she giggled like a little kid. Before she could complain about your cheesiness, however, you had already come up to her from behind and wrapped your arms around her. Joohyun turned her head to be able to look at you, but you fondly stared at the pictures in front of you, so she followed your gaze. The photos showed a variety of memories that you had collected together. Your candlelight dinner in Busan, your wellness weekend on Jeju island or your failed fishing trip in Sokcho that still managed to make Joohyun break out in laughter whenever she reminiscent about it. However different your adventures had been though, they all had one thing in common: the wide smiles that they had conjured to your faces. No matter which picture Joohyun looked at, the pure happiness that the two of you radiated made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“We really have collected some amazing memories together, haven’t we?”

Joohyun asked rhetorically with a fond smile on her lips, already knowing that you would agree with her.

“Yes we have. Because it doesn’t matter what it is that we do. As long as we are together, we can make everything worthwhile. You and me, Joohyun. I wouldn’t have wanted to experience all of those things with anyone else. You are the one supposed to be by my side.”

As you were speaking, Joohyun realized that you must have gotten to the bottom of her weird behavior lately and uncovered her insecurities. But at the same time, with every word that you uttered, they became less. You were right. The two of you seemed to be separated by a big age gap, but what about it? What was the meaning of time anyways? Your adventures were able to make the days fly by, but seeing your smile felt like an eternity spent in heaven and a kiss from you was able to stop time entirely. Why did she doubt your happiness because of some stupid numbers? The realness of it could be seen in every picture, could be heard in every love declaration and could be felt in the way your fingertips softly caressed her skin. What you had was real and she wouldn’t let anyone take that away from her.

“I hope we will take a lot more pictures in the future.”

Joohyun said while turning in your arms to face you.

“Of course we will. Starting from now.”

You grinned while pulling out your phone from your back pocket. Joohyun chuckled in response but cuddled up to you and looked into the camera, ready to capture this moment in order to always have a reminder of this night whenever her doubts would start getting the better of her again.

Your lips met her cheek and conjured a contagious smile to her face. Once again, this photo would be a proof of the endless happiness that flooded through her body whenever she was with you. There was nothing on this earth that could separate you. Your hearts were beating as one; along to its own rhythm, its own calculation of time.

1,2,5,7

Did it all make sense? No. But that didn’t make it any less real. Love was simply controlled by a higher power that didn’t let itself be confined. And Joohyun was finally ready to accept that.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 3: Bloom Poetry

Narrated by Nikki.

Momo: We’re back? Are we really back?

Nikki: Yes! These trees... I know these trees!

Narrator: I sprint back home through the thicket, heart pounding in excitement.

Nikki: Mom! I missed you so much!

Narrator: I throw open the door and leap into my mom’s arms.

Mom: Huh? Didn’t you go out just now?

Nikki: I just miss you a lot, okay?

Mom: Oh, you forgot to bring your picnic lunchbox.

Narrator: I finally remember that, back in this world, I was going on a picnic with friends.

Mom: I gotta go back to work now. Don’t get home too late! And remember to frame up your dad’s treasure map and photos.

Nikki: Okay. Bye, Mom!

Yoyo: Nikki? Thought you went out. Come choose a party outfit for me!

Narrator: Yoyo pokes her head out of her room, wearing a face mask.

Narrator: She’s my older sister. She loves luxurious, elegant styles.

Nikki: Sure!

[Here you do a little Styling Battle, Gold/Elegant attribute.]

Yoyo: Whoo, looks like your sense of style has improved overnight.

Nikki: Really?

Momo: I’m a great teacher, after all.

Yoyo: Nah, she’s got my daily tips to thank. Anyway, have fun, you guys. I’m gonna work on my makeup now.

Narrator: Picking up the styled outfit, Yoyo disappears into her room.

Narrator: Momo and I sit in the lounge, sorting out photos and frames, reminiscing over our lives pre-Miraland.

Narrator: I spot my favorite snacks in the lounge.

Nikki: The couch at home really is the comfiest...

Momo: Yeah! The BBQ here tastes like home, too!

Narrator: Sunshine pours in from the window, lighting up this safe harbor.

Narrator: Now... I kind of feel like staying.

Narrator: Miarland, to me, is just a very, very long dream.

Narrator: Maybe it really was a dream. I’m just an ordinary girl, after all. Why’d they expect me to change the world?

Momo: Nikki... can we stay here a bit longer before going back to Miraland?

Nikki: I wish we could...

Narrator: But the alarm I set rings. 29 minutes have already passed.

Momo: But if we don’t go back now, we’ll never be able to return to Miraland... right?

Nikki: Uh-huh...

Nikki: No more dangers lurking around the corner. We can happily nap and go to parties and attend classes...

Momo: And eat BBQ... play games...

Narrator: The room grows quiet.

Choose either “You’re staying?” or “You should go.”

If “staying,” ...

You: So you didn’t end up going back?

Nikki: If we chose to stay home, all the following stories of Miraland would not have existed.

If “go,” ...

You: You still went back, didn’t you?

Nikki: Yeah. That’s how the following stories happened.

---

Narrator: I leave a post-it note on my family’s little bulletin board.

Note: I’ll be back for dinner! I’m gonna find the perfect dress for the party tomorrow.

Narrator: Marina and Aeon seem shocked to see us back.

Marina: I know you’d come back, Nikki!

Aeon: ...

Narrator: Aeon doesn’t seem as excited. He gazes into my eyes and asks solemnly...

Aeon: Are you sure, you’re ready? Miraland of 680 years ago isn’t as peaceful as you think.

Aeon: You’ll encounter lots of dangers. Some might even be fatal.

Nikki: I don’t know much about the era, but since I have a connection with Miraland, I still want to try and change its fate.

Nikki: If I choose to stay home now... Miraland will really be nothing but a dream.

Nikki: I want Miraland to continue existing. And my friends to live on.

Nikki: Even if we’re not in the same world, we’ll remember each other when we see flowers, stars, the stage... as long as we live.

Nikki: I still want to give it a try.

Narrator: After a long silence, Aeon finally nods.

Aeon: Okay, then.

Nikki: Thank you! Please take us back to Miraland of 680 years ago, then.

Aeon: Not so soon.

Nikki: ?

Aeon: I have a favor to ask you, too, regarding the Ark. I need to make sure you know how to stay safe before sending you off.

Narrator: I stay on the Ark for a period, where Aeon teaches me all about Designer’s Reflections and outfit sets.

Narrator: I’m now an intern manager of the Ark, too! I’ve collected lots of info on Designer’s Reflections.

Narrator: And I even designed a dress!

Narrator: Marina says the flowers blooming on the dress’ hem are as bedazzling as the way Miraland ended.

Narrator: But that wasn’t why I chose this design.

Narrator: I’m just trying to remind myself, my wimpy, homesick self, that I should be more like a blooming flower.

Narrator: A blooming flower would always choose a life full of beauty and passion.

Narrator: They face the unknown with open arms and courage.

Narrator: At home, I’m protected by my family, in a familiar environment. So carefree, so blissful.

Narrator: But if I give up on this adventure, I won’t ever see new sceneries, experience new stories.

Nikki: What do you think?

Choose either “I think so, too” or “Better to live a simple life.”

If “think so,” ...

You: I totally agree!

Nikki: Yeah. After what I’ve been through, I don’t regret making the choice at all.

If “simple life,” ...

You: I’d rather life a simple, carefree life.

Nikki: Yeah. I’m happy to create memories with my family, too.

Nikki: But I’ve never regretted my choice.

---

Narrator: We’re ready to set off to Miraland of 680 years ago, but Marina is hanging onto my leg, begging me to stay.

Marina: Don’t go, Nikki! Stay and play with me a bit more!

Momo: ...I’d rather not.

Nikki: I’ll come back to visit, Marina.

Aeon:: Ready?

Nikki: As ready as ever.

Aeon: Remember, if you have any questions, contact us immediately.

Nikki: Yeah. You’ve already told me that several times.

Narrator: I smile, then lock eyes with him, gaze turning serious.

Nikki: Thank you, Aeon:

Aeon: ...Ahem.

Narrator: Aeon raises a hand and clears his throat.

Nikki: No matter what happens, at least you’ve taught me the power of beauty! I’ll use it well!

Aeon: I’ll some contacts to aid you in your journey.

Nikki: Well, farewell, then.

Narrator: I turn around and set off on my new journey.

Narrator: The Ocean of Memories is tranquil, the waters completely still.

Narrator: The stars are shining bright in the distance, guiding us on our path.

Narrator: And then, at the Gate of Heart, I met you.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[multimetaverse]

Riverdale 5x03 Recap

Jellybean was born and raised in Riverdale though?? She only moved to Ohio after her mom left FP

Good on FP for doing what’s best for his daughter but probably should have told Alice beforehand that you’re skipping town

We’re ending this era of Riverdale as it began with Tom Keller as Sheriff. Hope he has a scene with his son tonight!

Jughead saying those kids almost looked innocent asleep was pretty messed up of him. 1) those are clearly homeless kids having to sleep in a fucking gym and 2) as bad as the voyeur vids were they still pale in comparison to the crimes that high school kids have been involved in over the years

Oooh man that Luke Perry is just brutal

It’s crazy to think of how far the show has come since that first scene of Cheryl and Jason Blossom in all white heading down to the river

Alice might be the most tragic living character on Riverdale, her life has just been wrecked over and over and over

It’s awful how realistic the army recruitment booth inside the school is. The Saved by the Bell reboot had a great joke about military recruitment of teens (it’s a much better show than Riverdale and I highly recommend it and it’s already been renewed for S2)

It’s nice that they brought Weatherbee back for the final high school eps

LOL at the Red Circle shade

The yearbook as a device to look back at some of the show’s history is clever. Also reveals how clearly chapter 79 which was supposed to be the S4 finale was also being written as a possible series finale

It’s very odd that Archie’s poor grades of all things are what the writers just to be realistic about. Nice of Weatherbee to let Archie walk with his friends though

Ladies and Gentlemen that could possibly be the last Varchie sex scene we ever see

Considering the US only abolished conscription after the Vietnam war, I don’t think those 4 students back in 1945 had much of a choice in joining the army. Although they lucked out with the timing since the war with Japan would end within months while they were still in basic training

Not Archie lying to both Jughead and Veronica about his post high school plans

FP telling Jughead he’s old enough to be on his own is rich considering Jughead was basically homeless and on his own in S1

Good on Cheryl for getting her red robe

Finally Tom Keller gets a scene with his son!

Omfg I can’t handle this Archie cover of Green Day

Yaas Penelope lurking in the bushes. I’m gonna miss that Queen, hope she gets out of jail soon enough

RIP Falice. It will never cease to amaze me that right when the obstacles that should have stopped Bughead such as their parents being in a relationship and their shared half-brother are swept away that Bughead is being broken up

Well good bye for now and maybe forever FP Jones. You were the best of the surviving fathers which is admittedly a hell of a low bar

Pop’s is rightfully restored to Pop Tate

Kevin mentioning Josie and the Pussycats threw me

I guess from now on we’ll always see Jughead without that stupid hat, that’s weird

These grad scenes have been surprisingly poignant but they fall flat when they include the wider group. How many lines have Kevin, Fangs, Reggie, and Sweetpea even had lately? Has Kevin done anything of note since Hedwig? We’re a long way from when he was Betty’s best friend. And what has Reggie been up to? I noticed his dad wasn’t at grad, is that because he’s dead? Is there ever gonna be a follow up on Reggie smashing his dad’s car?

Don’t have a great feeling about this vow

Archie sure knows how to kill the mood. The worst thing about Archie’s speech is its accuracy. The US military really does offer a path to a middle class existence especially for kids with no other options. The life outcomes for people without high school degrees are grim and Archie really is grasping the last, best way to try and turn around his life

This Choni breakup is so sad 

The CW is wildin out letting Betty take off her bra for sex. What a bizarre transition from tearful confession to sex. Perhaps the last Bughead sex scene we’ll ever see

Just realized that Vegas will very likely be dead by the time we pick back up in 7 years

These scenes would have more impact if the show had focused on the Archie/Jughead and Veronica/Betty friendship

Wow bringing the old car out for one last drive

These flashbacks are sad, especially the Luke Perry one

God I hope Nana Rose survives the 7 year gap

Jesus Christ, so Jughead had a home he could have stayed in but decided to squat at Archie’s instead??

Poor Jughead being the only one to keep the vow

Well this really is the end of an era. Riverdale will never be the same after this episode. From the promos we know that Veronica is married to a controlling wall street douche, Archie is wounded overseas, Betty is an FBI agent, and Jughead a writer. The crisis that brings them all back is Hiram dissolving the town of Riverdale for his nefarious ends

Veronica marrying a man who shares some traits with Hiram is not surprising though the fact that she’s married is interesting, both in that there’s no way that marriage will last and in how her husband is jealous of her past with Archie, it’s an easy way to start heading towards Varchie again if the writers choose. There’s no way that Betty would be get in to the FBI with a serial killer father and half brother but we’ll see what new killer the writers can come up with. It looks like Jughead is a tortured artist. I appreciate the costume designers for making Archie’s military uniform so retro that it looks like he’s being shipped off to Korea to stop it going the way of Red China 

Looking back it’s extremely bizarre that they did what they did with Barchie. It really served no purpose since they all would have gone their separate ways anyways

Well looks like Cheryl hasn’t been successful in thwarting Hiram. I would imagine that much of Veronica’s story after the time gap is her wrestling with whether to take on her father and to claim the Lodge legacy for herself once and for all. Archie had always been her guiding light in that regard and we’ll see if can play that role in the future

This 7 year gap brings the characters ages up to 25 which is much closer to the actor’s actual ages which will help in that regard. But time jumps are tricky and 7 years is quite a gap, double the length of time that these first 79 eps have lasted. Sadly, Riverdale was renewed for a 6th season but realistically the bulk of the series has now passed and whatever adventures the gang gets up to as adults will get far less time dedicated to them. Some sort of time jump was probably always necessary if the show lasted as long as it had but I’m skeptical that Riverdale can pull it off. Until next week Riverdalers