#because a lot of like Deep Seated Things have been shaken up recently and i don't have anything to ground them with

[ourceliumnetwork]

usin the big fancy mug i bought for myself back in [redacted because i don't remember how long it's been but it's been Several Months now at least] for the first time. it's got a picture of a sheep on the bottom and it's blue and brown-black glazed and it's dishwasher and microwave safe (they said so at the booth) and it's fancy and huge and is full of coffeehotchocolate drink.

[zepskies]

3 whole days?!?! Oh my God, Ben must've been losing his mind. 🥲 Also hoping Benny is with dear Mrs. Brooks so he's not in the middle of this life or death situation. 💜

When Ben asked her how she felt, she only replied with “Like I fucking survived D-Day.” At that, Ben had snorted and said, “At least one of us did.”

*snorts* What a good comeback, though surprised Ben acknowledged that so easily. 😝

And when they were both sure the worst was over and she wouldn’t turn the car into bubbling liquid as well, Ben finally drove her to a hospital. She was still weak, mostly from not eating a thing in four days. The doctors thought she must’ve had a severe case of the flu, gave her an IV drip with plenty of nutrients, and then released her after a few tests.

God I'm so relieved!! You had me going there for a while. 😭 But with your promise of a happy ending here I held onto my seat and kept calm.

Y/N almost breaks a smile. She can’t remember if he had ever asked this much about her well-being before. Her little brush with death might have shaken his steeled core more than she’d initially figured, and her heart swells slightly at the thought.

Aww hun, she still has her insecurities with him and how he feels about her 🥺 (and they way he blew up at her recently, it's understandable).

Sometimes, she still thinks he only keeps her around because he doesn’t know any better. It’s like getting an abused dog from the shelter – you never know if they really love you or if they only tolerate you because you’re nice enough to feed them.

💀💀 But honestly yeah, it's a good analogy for how she met him in rehab (even if she was an inmate there as well). 😭

Also I love that eating enough to feed a small army was part of her recuperation lolll. Talk about ravenous -- but I have a feeling she's craving something else now. 😏❤️‍🔥

“Don’t forget the churros.” She giggles, and on cue, she rolls fully on top of him and straddles his waist, spreading featherlight kisses along the paths her fingers trailed.

LOL she's so cute. Can't forget the churros -- now to straddle her man.~

“Not surprising. I already know how much you can stuff in that fucking mouth, doll.” Ben’s wide smirk is full of pride, and it causes her to giggle.

lmfao another top tier Ben line. 🤌🏽

“You sure about that?” she checks, but her tone is more than a little teasing. “There’s a lot of kinks to pick from.” “Why does your generation always have to label fucking everything? It’s fucking sex. That’s it.” He huffs a bit too defensively, and she tries her best to muzzle her laugh. “What’s fucking wrong with it?”

LOLL honestly I'm kind of with him on that one. Why is everything labelled a "kink" nowadays? 🤣🤣🤣

“Well, there you go,” he retorts. “I’m super fucking old and married. You’re gonna keep fucking chit-chatting or are you gonna do it now?” “Fine, I’ll make love to you,” she relents with a smirk as she voices his little secret out loud.

Wayne omggg! Seeing your note at the end, I DO remember sending you that Ask!! I'm so happy to see it done here because it's absolutely perfect for these two and this moment. Thank you for using the idea! 🥹💓

Deep down, Gramps just wants to be made love to, and you gave him his heart's desire. 😘

The rest of their "making up" time for V-Day was simultaneously so hot and funny and fluffy and romantic -- my favorite combo honestly. I melted in several different ways. 💗💗💗

(The "it's his Olympics" line was particularly perfect loll. ❤️‍🔥)

“Like a fucking faucet,” he murmurs appreciatively

*snorts* 🤭😏 I see you, Wayne.

Also on brand that he'd be such an ungrateful whiny sourpuss on his birthday. 🙄 Like DUDE, she's just been busting her ass to bake him a cake and make his day feel special, but what, he doesn't want to get another year older? (Too late, you're already old.)

Or what, he doesn't want to be doted on? STFU and put on your party hat! 🥳

(or is he just cranky and salty that she said no to blow? lmfao)

“Baby, please, my feet hurt really bad.” She pouts, and he finally gets up with a deep sigh. She smiles wickedly.

YES. I have this headcanon too, that this is the only way to manipulate him into doing what you want. Especially when he's being a prima donna. 🤣

“Ew! Why the fuck would you put that in the fucking oven?!” His brow furrows so comically she tries her hardest to stifle her laughter. God, she hopes the kid gets her brains.

GOD he's so dumb for this loll. That's actually a really cute way to tell hubby you have a bun in the oven. 🥹 I wonder how Benny's gonna take the news that he's gonna be a big bro. 💕

And I love the Grinch line at the end, paralleling right back to Rehab. These two have gone through one hell of a journey together, but thanks for giving us this beautiful happy ending to their story, my friend!

Lover – Part 3

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, human!Soldier Boy, the fluffiest of fluff, the smuttiest of smut (watch out for the breeding kink lol) 😉

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day to you all, loves! 💕 Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments over the last few days. I've seen and appreciate them all and will catch up with you guys over the weekend 🥰 For now, excuse this poor mama, 'cause she is fucking beat 😂

Enjoy the happy end 🩵

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 3: Lovestruck

Three fucking days he had waited in front of that goddamn door.

He slept in front of that door, ate in front of that door, and he silently panicked in front of that door. He hated that fucking door, had raging murder fantasies about it, but he never, ever opened said fucking door, no matter how much his fingers were twitching. Mostly because every time his hand did wrap around the knob, she’d yell at him to ‘stay the fuck out.’

Ben only unwillingly complied.

But when the quiet came and all other noises stopped, he finally dared to set a foot inside. The bedroom looked normal, even if disarrayed – but the bathroom surely needed a fucking remodel.

All that remained of their bathtub was a solidified puddle of acrylic. There was also a hole in the floor – burned right through the tiles. He’d wondered why it’d been so cold in there till he'd noticed the giant hole in the wall too that gave a perfect view of their backyard. But he found Y/N resting and curled up on the cool, white tiles – alive.

His heart might have fucking soared higher than an eagle.

When Ben asked her how she felt, she only replied with “Like I fucking survived D-Day.”

At that, Ben had snorted and said, “At least one of us did.”

And when they were both sure the worst was over and she wouldn’t turn the car into bubbling liquid as well, Ben finally drove her to a hospital. She was still weak, mostly from not eating a thing in four days. The doctors thought she must’ve had a severe case of the flu, gave her an IV drip with plenty of nutrients, and then released her after a few tests.

She’s been exhausted since then, drifting in and out of dreamland as he holds her in his embrace. She begins to stir again, and soon enough, she glances tiredly up at him through her eyelashes and gives him a lazy smile when she realizes he’s still here, exactly where he was hours ago when she last woke up.

“How late is it?” she asks and stretches a little in his arms but only ends up snuggling closer to him.

“Close to three,” he replies, and judging by the darkness outside their bedroom window, she guesses he doesn’t mean in the afternoon. “How are you feeling?”

Y/N almost breaks a smile. She can’t remember if he had ever asked this much about her well-being before. Her little brush with death might have shaken his steeled core more than she’d initially figured, and her heart swells slightly at the thought.

Sometimes, she still thinks he only keeps her around because he doesn’t know any better. It’s like getting an abused dog from the shelter – you never know if they really love you or if they only tolerate you because you’re nice enough to feed them.

He’s a creature of habit, after all.

But the affection and genuine worry gleaming in his pine green eyes tells her he might see more in her than that – whatever the hell that is.

“Better.” She nods, letting her fingers trace patterns around the golden freckles on his chest. Much better, she thinks as she feels the familiar heat pool between her legs. She bites down on her lower lip and presses herself closer to his perfectly toned and muscular body. It’s been too long since she’s worshipped every fucking glorious inch of him. “I think the fried chicken and noodles helped,” she adds with a small grin.

He chuckles – but not at her words. He can feel how she’s rubbing her thighs together now to get a little friction.

“Oh, I’m sure the burger, fries, sushi, and tacos helped, too,” he teases her. He came this close to entering her in one of those eating competitions as he watched her empty take-out container after container.

“Don’t forget the churros.” She giggles, and on cue, she rolls fully on top of him and straddles his waist, spreading featherlight kisses along the paths her fingers trailed.

“Not surprising. I already know how much you can stuff in that fucking mouth, doll.” Ben’s wide smirk is full of pride, and it causes her to giggle.

To make his point even clearer, his massive hands smooth down her sides and grip the globes of her ass, grinding her core against his proudly standing member. She mewls into the crook of his neck when she feels how fucking hard he is already. He lets out a grunt that carries the same desperate need to be inside of her as two of his thick fingers delve into her tight channel without much of a warning.

“Fucking drenched,” he mutters appreciatively as she arches her back with another moan on top of him. His free hand winds itself in her hair, giving it a slight tug that parts her lips with a pleasurable hiss as he drags her closer to his face. His amusement doesn’t fade, though, nor do his fingers in her pussy as he works her into a frenzy. “Sure you’re ready enough for the big guns, baby girl?”

She giggles breathily at his relentless teasing. “I’m literally about to come any second now,” she replies, soon followed by a harsh bite of her lip when his calloused thumb finds her clit. “Fuck…”

“Oh, I don’t think you fucking are.” Ben smirks and withdraws his fingers from her heat in the same breath. He laughs a little when she falls against his chest with a whimper of real loss.

Her hand finds his length between their burning bodies and wraps around it, already dragging his tip through her dripping folds. But Ben only entertains her plans for a second before snatching her wrist and pulling her away from him.

She whines this time and looks up at him. “Dear God, what do you want?” A laugh rumbles through his chest at the exasperation on her face. “I’ll do anything you want, anywhere you want. Just tell me. What’s Soldier Boy’s deepest, darkest fantasy, huh?”

Ben knows she’s teasing him, and a smile of amusement twitches on his lips, but a part of him actually seriously considers her question.

“What?” Her brow knits curiously as she observes the contemplative purse of his pillowy lips. “It’s okay. You can tell me,” she assures him and grins cheekily. “How fucking dirty is it?”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and subtly swallows the lump in the back of his throat. He doesn’t reply instantly, however, pulling her ear to his lips as he whispers his little wish.

When he’s done, she blinks at him in surprise (and a hint of amusement). She certainly hasn’t expected that, but she places a loving kiss on his lips. The asshole can be charmingly sweet once in a blue moon.

“You sure about that?” she checks, but her tone is more than a little teasing. “There’s a lot of kinks to pick from.”

“Why does your generation always have to label fucking everything? It’s fucking sex. That’s it.” He huffs a bit too defensively, and she tries her best to muzzle her laugh. “What’s fucking wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” she assures him, giggling, and tries to soothe the furious lines of offense on his brow with little kisses. “It’s just surprising. It’s usually what super-old, married couples do.”

“Well, there you go,” he retorts. “I’m super fucking old and married. You’re gonna keep fucking chit-chatting or are you gonna do it now?”

“Fine, I’ll make love to you,” she relents with a smirk as she voices his little secret out loud.

“Jesus fuck!” He throws his head back into the pillow with a theatric eye roll.

His patience has run out. He grabs her fast and rough and flips them both over in a blink of an eye, her back landing in the plush mattress with a bubble of giggles. His weight presses down on her and deliciously threatens to squeeze the air from her lungs.

“Let me show you how it’s fucking done, my love,” Ben says with a cocky smile and begins to ravage a path of destruction down her throat. She’s sure she’ll be more colorful than a rainbow in the morning.

His teeth nib on her skin, hands pawing at the only clothing item that still covers her body from him, soon tearing the shirt over her head. His mouth stops attacking her clavicle then, green eyes focusing on her tits with a rising smirk.

“There’s my girls. Daddy’s home…”

Before she can even reply with a laugh at his comment, his mouth is swallowing her left tit, tongue roughly swirling over her nipple till it peaks against his wet muscle. She moans and arches off the mattress when his other hand massages, palms, and squeezes her other breast with the same fervent hunger.

Her hands find purchase on his strong upper arms, bicep flexing underneath her pads. His mouth devoutly licks lower and lower down her belly. She can feel his smirk rise against her skin the further he travels before his tongue dives straight into her folds.

“Fuck!” Her hips instantly buck forward, everything below her belly button clenching at the welcome intrusion.

And God, that man is skilled when it comes to sex. If he takes nothing else in his life seriously, this is his goddamn Olympics. He always gives it his all, just aiming for that gold medal over and over again.

It’s why she honestly forgives him for most of the shit he does or says, and she’s pretty sure he knows it, too.

His arms wrap around her thighs and pull her even closer against his sinful mouth. Her ankles cross behind his head, calves resting on those broad shoulders that seem to be made just for that purpose. Her toes tease his scalp, scratch the back of his head that cause little groans of his against her center that sound both submissive and primal, as if it's the most natural thing to give his everything to her.

His nose deliciously rubs her clit, and then the bastard fucking inhales and sucks the air right out of her when his lips seal around her bundle of nerves. She cries out his name, her cunt clenching with aching emptiness.

“Don’t worry. I know what you need,” Ben hums against her mound and shoves two thick fingers into her wet channel. “So fucking tight. You think you can take three? It’s been a while. Gotta get you into shape again…”

Fucking Olympics.

His digits then pump her so purposefully, mouth sucking her so religiously, she soon soars so fucking high she can see fucking Cupid himself. Her head falls back into the clouds when that fucking arrow hits, and she falls apart under his binding spell.

She thinks she might have passed out there for a second or two. When she steals a glance south, he still works her zealously through her glorious high as her pussy grips his fingers so tight she’s baffled they don’t break.

If she still had been a supe, they would’ve have.

And my God, she knows Ben’s never wasteful, not with his drugs nor with her arousal, but the way his tongue cleans her and licks his own fingers reaches a new level of obscenity she hasn’t witnessed before.

He acts like he’s been fucking parched for decades, and her juices are the elixir of life.

Then, when there's not a drop left to drink, and only then, does he decide to resurface with the laziest and proudest fucking smirk she’s ever seen. He leans so close to her face their foreheads touch, and she can smell her own scent in his glistening beard before he makes her taste herself, too.

“You’re still the same shithead.” She smirks breathlessly, her tits heaving as she breaks from the kiss. His chuckles fill her soul. She cards her fingers through his beard and brushes the hair back that falls into his mesmerizingly green eyes. “You’re gonna make love to me now?”

A smile widens on his plump and swollen lips, even at the hint of teasing in her voice, but he doesn’t respond with words, only nods and claims her lips in a blazing kiss. He angles his hips between her thighs then and spreads her legs further apart as they secure around his middle.

His lips leave hers and force her eyes open, staring straight into his. There’s an abundance of devotion and love in the lush greens that fill her heart. He makes her fucking feel it – every goddamn thing she is to him.

She feels his love when their fingers interlace and he pins them above her head. She feels his dedication with every thick, long inch he pushes inside of her. And she feels his fucking loyalty with each deliberate stroke.

He doesn’t rush, even keeps the dirty talk to a minimum. This is just for her.

It’s his fucking Olympics.

But most of all, she sees their vows shimmering in his eyes and knows he’ll never fucking break them.

“I love you,” she moans breathily into his ear, wounding herself tighter around him. She’s fucking close, ready for that next arrow with his name on it to pierce right through her heart.

He smirks a little in response, like he’s been waiting to hear it first. “Trust me. I fucking love you more,” he says, voice husky and thick with love. He emphasizes his promise with a snap of his hips, driving his cock right against her cervix. “Gonna pump a full fucking load deep into that little pussy till you’re fucking knocked up with a whole litter.”

Fucking shit. That should not turn her on as much as it does, but it’s hard to goddamn deny it when she comes right then and there as soon as he’s finished that filthy sentence.

“That’s it. Fucking milk my cock,” Ben rasps into her ear and feels his balls tighten when her pussy quakes around his shaft. “Like a fucking faucet,” he murmurs appreciatively and sucks marks into her neck. He’s missed making her his work of art, too.

When he spills his seed into her, hot and raw, he ensures their eye contact never breaks. He wants her to see what she’s fucking doing to him, how he falls apart just for her, too.

Two months later…

“What the fuck is taking you so long?” Ben stretches his neck and tries to peer into the kitchen. He begrudgingly eyes the green, glittery party hat on the dining table in front of him. “‘M not putting the fucking hat on, by the way.”

“Dude, you think it’s fucking easy lighting 108 candles on a fucking cake?” she retorts from the kitchen with a bit of bite before she strolls out with a sort of wonky buttercream cake, but the smile on her face is even brighter than the million candles.

“There’s no fucking way you put 108 candles on there,” Ben scoffs and grumpily crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back with a creak in his chair.

He’s been a bit of a party pooper all day. It also didn’t help when their son pointed that out at breakfast.

However, Ben probably shouldn’t have replied with: “Yeah, you would be too if your wife said no to blow.”

And yup, you bet your ass he woke her up bright and early in the morning, requesting she’d lick the snow off his dick. He’d termed it a super blow job and was rather disappointed when she'd declined.

“No, but I managed to get 53 on there, so it’s an A for effort,” she replies patiently. God, she needs so much fucking patience every day, but especially today.

“What fucking hippie school did you go to, huh?” Ben huffs and only encounters an annoyed frown when he looks at her.

“Blow out your fucking candles and make your wish, caveman,” she orders him dryly.

With a pissy eye roll, he does, puffing the life out of each little flame. “Are we fucking done with this now?”

Just then, the oven timer goes off, and Y/N straightens in the seat across from him.

“Uh, almost,” she says. “Got something in the oven. Can you check?”

“It’s my fucking birthday. How about you check yourself?” he retorts like a fucking princess.

“Ben, c’mon, I just spent six hours in the kitchen, baking you that cake,” she argues.

“Surprising it took six hours for this fucking thing,” Ben mutters, and she’s about to goddamn choke him.

Patience is a virtue, patience is a virtue…

“Baby, please, my feet hurt really bad.” She pouts, and he finally gets up with a deep sigh. She smiles wickedly.

“The oven isn’t even fucking on!” Ben yells soon from the kitchen. “And there’s nothing fucking inside!”

“Are you sure?” she acts as best as she can. “I thought I put something on the baking sheet.”

She listens to the clattering metal before a beat of silence follows. She’s sure his brows are densely knit in confusion (and frustration) at this point.

“What the fuck is this? Why would you put a fucking plastic stick in there?” The question finishes when he returns to the dining room, a small, white stick still in hand. He then holds it to his nose. “Why the fuck does it smell like piss?”

“Because I fucking peed on it,” she responds but sees he’s still not fully catching on.

“Ew! Why the fuck would you put that in the fucking oven?!” His brow furrows so comically she tries her hardest to stifle her laughter.

God, she hopes the kid gets her brains.

“Why is there a fucking smiley on it?”

“Because you’re supposed to be fucking happy, you moron,” she says.

“Why would I be fucking happy over a piss stick? Not exactly the fucking Rolex I wanted, is it?”

“Ben.”

His green eyes narrow at her and then blink. “Wait…”

“Yup.”

“Are you–“

“Yup.”

The stick in his hand drops to the floor before he scoops her up into his arms so fast she feels slightly dizzy from the motion. Happily, her legs wrap around his waist and arms lock behind his neck. She kisses him deeply, and he kisses her back with the same passionate devotion.

He squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter, forcing the tears to stay in, but she can still see the remnants of them when she draws back from his lips.

“I’m pregnant,” she says in case he still needed the verbal confirmation.

“Best fucking birthday ever,” he replies, swallowing the fucking lump in his dry throat.

She grins mischievously. “Told you it would be a good one, but no super blow jobs for a while.”

He snorts a chuckle. “Got it. I’ll take the regular ones, too.”

Ben once used to hate everything, his heart, much like the Grinch’s, a few sizes too small for anything else. But now, there’s barely enough space in his chest to contain it all. These days, he certainly considers himself a lover of all things life has to fucking offer.

The End 💕

Didn't I fucking say I would fix it?! Well, there ya go! Sid and Nancy got a happy end 🌅❣️

Do you guys think Ben wished for a baby or a fucking Rolex when he blew out those candles? 😂

(@zepskies 💜 – Not sure you remember this, but you sent me this ask for Dirty Drabbles about a year ago lol: What if Ben's girlfriend/wife/partner agrees to help fulfill one of his dirty fantasies. She's fully prepared for it to be insane (a la Ben), but what he requests is actually something surprisingly sweet (in its own way lol) And I immediately had this for this miniseries in mind! It fit those two perfectly!! 🥰🫶)

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TAGS:

Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @supernotnatural2005 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

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@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

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@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato

Soldier Boy: @deans-baby-momma @snowayumi

Rehab Series: @nancymcl @sparkydonugh

[moeruhoshi]

I've been watching anime all day so here's a late nalu day gift

Lucy slammed her bedroom door and flopped down on her bed with a weary sigh, weeping into her pillow as her day finally came to an end.

The open door of her patio allowed her to hear the neighing of carriage horses taking away her most recent suitor, a man who barely knew what the meaning of personal space was.

Just how many princes and dukes had to waltz through their gates before the princess’ father realized that they had no interest in adequately courting her? It was painfully obvious how the lot of them were only interested in her well-displayed décolletage over her personality and spent more time schmoozing up to the king instead of trying to win her favor.

What hurt, even more, was knowing that she could never be with the one who was truly meant for her.

She stared at the red string tied to her pinky, the fiber ending far off in the distance where it connected to her destined partner. It calmed her in some ways, allowed her to feel a sense of clarity, knowing there was at least one more person out there who could give her the true love she craved.

She hoped every day, when Spetto called her down to meet another suitor, that it would be him, the one on the other end of her string, waiting to hold her as she wanted to hold him.

They could instead be a peasant, she thought as her hopes for him to visit one day were beginning to fade. Not that she cared about that kind of thing, but it meant that they didn't have the means to enter the castle easily. Or maybe they were somewhere in a neighboring country, too far away to find her. Maybe he hadn't been gifted the power to see the string and didn't know she was waiting for him but felt just as empty without her by his side.

She was sure if she voiced her knowledge of the red string to anyone else, they would call doctors from all over Earthland to analyze her cognitive function. 

But she desperately wanted to tell everyone that she had no intention of selecting a suitor through their gaudy traditions. She would instead venture out into the world to find her soulmate, the person at the end of her red string of fate. But knowing her father, he would only let her marry with the promise of the expanded wealth she would gain him from a political marriage.

"Miss? Are you still awake?" Spetto knocked lightly, the princess holding in her sniffles to hear what the maid had to say. "I'm sure you are…but I won't bother you. Your father wants you to know that he'll be inviting the Duke Cream from Veronica for another visit tomorrow. He's eager to correct his…insolent behavior from the last time he saw you."

The princess didn't bother answering and instead let out a frustrated sigh as the sound of her maid's footsteps echoed down the hall. The setting sun illuminated the crimson strand and her fingers loosely wrapped around it, her weak pout quivering as she tugged on the phantom satin.

"I'd rather have you, whoever you are..."

~000~

"The princess!" Spetto screamed as she ran into the King's throne room. Jude was sat upon his seat with the Duke at his side, their conversation halting at her interruption. "She's gone!"

"What in the world do you mean, woman? I'm sure that no good daughter of mine has just buried her nose in one of those god awful fairy tales again. Have the guards search the library for her," He gruffed, rolling his eyes as her demeanor became more hysterical and shaken.

"I have, your highness! The princess has run away, she's truly nowhere to be found!"

"And just when I was about to be introduced to my bride," The Duke frowned and tossed his bleached hair aside. "Send hounds after her, why don't you? I will not let this girl make a fool of me on this glorious day."

"Go on, then," The King glared at his guards standing nearby who quickly rushed out the door. "I should have known that girl would be trouble. Her mother had always filled her head with nothing but pure nonsense."

Lucy lifted her billowy skirt as she ran through the woods, deep within its darkness, trying her best to ignore the now wailing trumpets of distress audible in the distance. She knew it wouldn't have been long until someone noticed her absence, especially after having heard the reality behind Duke Cream’s visit.

It was by chance, an incident that occurred while she was passing her father's office the night before. Lucy heard the plans he made to arrange her marriage to the Duke, ensuring that their kingdom would absorb the principality. This meant her father would have an entire stronghold on the country of Fiore.

A life with that obnoxious and narcissistic Duke was not one she wanted, nor could even stand the thought of.

So, in a panic, she made plans to run away, leaving when the guards wouldn’t be around, going as far as she could go without any clear signs of which direction she'd taken off in. She persevered through her tiredness with the lone thought of her meeting her soulmate who was sure to greet her with a wide smile and open arms.

"This way! C'mon now, you'll never make it running without anywhere in mind!" A voice tinkled through the line of trees, halting the princess in her place as she breathed harshly and darted around scared eyes.

"Who's there! I-I'm not going back to the castle!" Lucy shouted as she turned about in circles, shrieking as a short blonde girl suddenly appearing from thin air

"Did I say I was trying to take you home? No! Now hurry it up! You'll never make it there if you make stops like this, follow me!" She instructed, turning toward the trees and beginning to run.

"Who are you?" Lucy asked between pants as she followed the shorter blonde, mesmerized by the trail of sparkles she left behind her, and the cute wings peeking out from beside her ears.

"A friend," She smiled as she continued maneuvering them through the woods. "And a guide! You’ll never get where you need to go without my help,"

"So you know where I'm going? You can see my string too?"

"Well, sure! I let you see it after all. Boy, was he worried when I told him you were stuck out here without your magic. Idiot almost killed himself trying to find his way through, but it can't be done by anyone but a spirit." She sighed and shook her head, rambling as they avoided a patch of bramble bushes 

"My soulmate...? He was looking for me too? Really?" Lucy felt her heart swell, beating stronger even as she ran, a dazzling smile taking its claim of her lips.

"Yup! You have a very loyal man waiting for you," She giggled. "He can't wait to meet you, said he'd get his house ready and everything while I was out looking for you. I apologize for taking so long, moving around in this realm isn't easy, there’s barely any magic in this land!”

"Magic? Like in books? Isn't that practice all made up?" The princess quirked a brow as the strange girl only giggled again and slowed her movements as they found purchase under the wide berth of a willow tree.

"It's quite amazing someone like you was born here when your home is with us, in the right Fiore. Now, come on! Everyone's waiting!" She grinned, ignoring Lucy's confusion as she pulled them through the hanging branches, the two suddenly falling into the void of the trunk.

"E-Eh?! W-Wha…!" Lucy fell to her knees as she suddenly felt queasy, holding a hand to her head and waited for her headache to subside. She looked up to see where the other blonde had gone, not finding her anywhere and instead met a new and sunny skyline. "Wasn't it…night just a moment ago?"

She stood to her shaky feet, finding her body no longer weighed down by exhaustion, tears, or dirt on her dress. Whatever was in the air made her feel light as, well, air. She'd never felt so amazing before! Just where had she gone when they fell through that tree?

Taking some small steps through the field in front of her, she looked down to her finger, the red string extending into the distance behind her.

"Oh wow…" When Lucy turned around, she was met with the image of a town she had never seen before, curiosity pulling her towards the bustling streets.

It was as she always imagined the streets of the village she ruled above looked; stalls serving food and selling fresh produce, children running and laughing, patrons bartering and making light conversation, happiness in everyone's eyes. Their smiles created her own, and she followed the string eagerly, feeling just right in the Fiore she’d been led to.

She worried this would all turn into a dream soon enough, there couldn't possibly be another Fiore…or the existence of magic at that. Her steps quickened as she feared Spetto would be in at any moment to wake her, feet carrying her towards a patch of woods that broke off from the town.

It would’ve made nice for a peaceful walk if she didn’t think the calm scenery before her would disappear.

“Oi, Gray, watch it!” A sharp voice boomed from the nearby distance. 

“Shut it! I know what I’m doing, it ain’t hard to paint a wall, flame brain!” 

“Don’t start a fight! We had to rebuild that side of the house five times because you two keep knocking it down!”

Lucy slowed down her pace as the volume of their argument increased but kept her eyes on the string that told her he was just ahead. 

Her eyes landed on a red-haired girl pointing a large sword at two boys who kneeled respectively in front of her, bowing their heads as she scolded them. 

Breaking through the line of trees, Lucy smoothed down her stray hairs and dusted off her dress, holding herself nervously as she continued forward.

Each step closer made her legs feel like jelly, flushed her cheeks, and made her heart beat a million times faster, her fingers twitching as she held her hands together. 

“U-Um...excuse me…?” Lucy’s voice was shaky as she approached the three, her eyes watery as she stared at the pink-haired boy who raised his head at the sound of her voice. The string fell into his lap; he was her soulmate.

The red-haired girl turned to face her first, eyes concerned as they fell on her disheveled appearance. “My goodness, are you okay? You’re not lost, are you?”

“N-No...I—“ 

"Oh, crap! It's you!" 

"Don't say that to a girl, idiot! You have no idea who that is!" The raven-haired boy threw a glare at the pink-haired one who quickly stood up.

“Mavis didn’t tell me when you’d get here, I would’ve come to pick you up if I knew you were...oh, hey, don’t cry, okay? Um, here,” He quickly took the end of his scarf to wipe her tears, feeling a knot in his throat as she gently fell against his chest. "It's gonna be okay."

"I just...I just can't believe…" She shook her head, not minding the stain she created on his shirt. "That you're real...that you were waiting for me."

"'Course I was! Having a new family member is always exciting, and my hearts been leapin' like crazy waitin' for you! You were stuck out there all alone and I couldn't come find you. I'm sorry it took so long." 

Erza forced herself and Gray to look away as the blonde hastily kissed their wild companion, his shock present in the stiffness of his back.

He was startled by the sudden action but felt himself melting into the touch, desperate as well to be close to his soulmate.

"I'm home," Lucy laughed with a bit of surprise, Natsu's eyes widening along with his grin. 

"Yeah! Welcome back!"

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part 11)

A/N- Okay so this is just a short 2k fill in chapter! It’s kinda cute and kinda sad but it was too long to add to the last chapter, and it doesn’t fit in with the theme of the next chapter (though it sets it up quite nicely!). The next chapter is likely going to be a bit angsty but I promise it’ll have a rewarding ending to it! I hope to have it written and up sooner rather than later but, until then, enjoy this little piece.

Word Count- 2028

The ten minute drive from Baker Street to the Natural History Museum went by in a flash- most of it being spent by Mycroft giving you a mental tour of the building's various rooms and the 'most appropriate route to take'. Though it did also take a minute or two for you to convince him to not get everybody kicked out for a private visit, no matter how many people were there.. Admittedly, you hadn't been to the museum for 6 years or so now- after living so long in London it feels less of a luxury being only round the corner from it- but walking through the doors made you feel like a child again. Entry to the museum was free, but that didn't mean you didn't see Mycroft swiftly pushing a few notes into the donation bin at the front before guiding you forwards. Glancing up, you eyed the blue whale skeleton that hung from the ceiling and frowned. Mycroft caught your look and spoke up.

"Ah yes, Hope has been a relatively recent addition to the museum. She was found dead on an Irish beach back in 1891. It's a rather beautiful marvel to gaze upon, though, large as she is, she doesn't quite fill the hole in my heart that was left after my beloved Dippy was removed." Your eyes scanned the skeleton of the large mammal once more before looking back at Mycroft. "I did try to convince the board to keep the diplodocus somewhere but all attempts were futile. There's only so much force you can put into such a topic without exposing yourself as-"

"As a man who loves dinosaur bones more than he loves people?" Mycroft shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"The very thing." Lifting your arm, you rested your hand at the crook of Mycroft's elbow to encourage him to move on.

"When we get home and have dinner we can raise a toast in Dippy's honour.. but for now, my mind's been taken over by that huge statue of Darwin." And the pair of you headed off, your hand very much staying place at Mycroft's arm as you wandered through the rooms- Mycroft more than willing to reel off facts about every deceased animal of history and, more often than not, even impressing the workers with his spiel of facts. Though you were very much enjoying wandering aimlessly through the room of human evolution, you most definitely noticed the pull from the man beside you as he was eager to reach his beloved dino-pals. As you turned the corner into the slightly darkened dinosaur room, you tripped over your feet slightly as you felt Mycroft stop in his tracks, his eyes wide and taking everything in. He looked as happy as a boy at Christmas and, quite frankly, it was adorable. You nudged him slightly when he still didn't move. "You okay?"

"Sorry, it just seems as though, no matter how many times I come here, it always feels like the first." He had shaken his head as though to bring his thoughts back to focus before taking a few steps into the gallery and leading you over to the skeletal remains of a Baryonyx. "The name Baryonyx roughly translates to 'Heavy Claw' from the Ancient Greek's 'Barys' meaning heavy and 'onyx' being claw or talon." He spoke, his voice smooth and relaxed as his fingers brushed over the board that announced the name of the creature within the glass. "It was also an excellent swimmer which it would use to its advantage while hunting." You listened to his every word as he spoke, grinning as he excitedly told you how many teeth it had and it's preferred techniques for capturing food before he moved you onto the next one.

"Oh these beauties have always been my favourite." You almost whispered, taking in the sight of the huge triceratops skull. You barely noticed Mycroft's hand shift from his pocket until you felt the heat of his palm against the small of your back, fingers squeezing slightly by your hip as he spoke.

"Mine too. Sherlock used to say they were boring and that we might as well have gone to the zoo to look at rhinos. He ended up spending 5 months trying to prove that the rhinos were descendants from the triceratops and then avoided me for 3 weeks when he realised there was no connection at all."

"That sounds about right. Though I can't imagine Sherlock enjoying it here very much anyway.." Mycroft began to guide you to a small bench just off the side to sit down, still giving you the view of the beautiful dinosaur bones.

"He didn't. When we were much younger he would kick off until Mummy and Father would tell us it's time to go and I had to go with them.. Then as we got a little older and Sherlock properly found his legs, he would simply run from the doors round to the science museum. Of course mummy and father had to follow him as he was so young, but one time I decided to stay here. They didn't realise I hadn't followed them until it was time to go home 5 hours later." Mycroft spoke quietly.

"Found his legs? That's at, what, four? Five? How young were you?"

"I was 9 the first time, I think." Now, Mycroft, you don't just 'think'; you know. Your hand moved to rest above his own on his knee, brushing your thumb fondly over his knuckles. "But it isn't all bad. Some of my best days as a child were spent here, and a lot of the staff were very kind and would teach me extra facts that weren't displayed. There was one gentleman who even gave me his own copies of some books that they had here. I'd wander the whole museum in time but I always found myself back here on this bench just.. watching. This room felt more like home than my very house sometimes. It was the room where I could escape the real world and find peace. Eventually Mummy, Father and Sherlock stopped bothering with the visits because Sherlock found the science museum boring after he'd prove them wrong on something each time, but I'd still pop back in on occasion without them.. Coming to think about it, I've never actually brought anybody here with me at all." You squeezed at his fingers and settled back into the bench.

"Well I am incredibly glad that I found out about your little interest, and I feel even more honoured that you let me come here with you." You beamed. And it was the truth. Evidently, this little museum meant much more to Mycroft than you could have ever imagined and it warmed your heart to know that he trusted you to see him nerd out over some bones.

"Eventually I used this very building as the scaffolding to build my mind palace. My files on Sherlock, very appropriately, are nestled in the human biology room. But most people's information is either stored in the entrance, where Dippy remains over Hope, might I add, or in a few of the rooms I find less interesting.." You didn't have to ask to know he was referencing 'that room with all the bloody rocks'. "I love most of the galleries too much to taint them with information on people that aren't important. The likes of Gregory and Doctor Watson now reside in Hintze Hall as the years have passed." His eyes remained focused in front of him, unblinking, as though he was wandering the very halls at that moment.

"And where.. where are my files?" You had to ask, really. Since he was on the subject anyway. "If you've put them in the marine reptiles room when you know I'm terrified of the ocean I shall never forgive you." Mycroft's hand flipped beneath yours so the pads of your fingers brushed before he blinked and looked over to you, a small smile on his face.

"Here." Oh. Well that's.. something. You shifted to give him a quick kiss on his cheek, knowing he wasn't overly fond of PDA and tugged him to stand.

"And on that note, I think we should go and grab some lunch before you make me cry in front of the dinosaurs."

---

After lunch, you both spent a few more hours walking from room to room (and of course circling round to the dinosaur gallery again) before you decided to call it a day at 4pm. Before departing, you headed towards the toilets that happened to be beside the little gift shop and you had a browse while Mycroft was occupied. Grinning, you picked up a deep blue plush triceratops and stroked a finger across its back. It was just small enough that, after purchasing, you could hide the little guy in the loose fabric of the sweatshirt you wore, acting innocent as you waited back outside near the wall. After going to the bathroom yourself, the pair of you headed outside where a car was waiting for you. Sliding in the back seat, you couldn't contain your little gift anymore.

"Surprise!" You laughed, producing the small toy from under your clothes and into the hands of the man beside you. He studied it briefly before beginning to laugh himself as he reached into his inner pocket and handed you the matching dinosaur, though purple in colour. "God, we're such children aren't we?" You noted as you swapped plushie companions, each of you brushing a finger on its nose as though it were a small pet. "I daren't think what your colleagues would say if they knew you were now the proud owner of a baby triceratops teddy that's.." You glanced at the tag. "..Suitable for children aged 12 months plus!"

"Probably nothing as bad as if they realised said triceratops was going to take proud placement on my desk at home." He beamed. "Thank you, this really does mean a great deal to me." You knew he wasn't just talking about the toy that rolled around his long fingers and you shifted to rest your head lightly on his shoulder.

"We can come back any time. I, for one, know I'll never get bored of looking through the galleries.. Or I'll never get bored of watching you light up as we walk through said galleries. Either or works, really." He hummed in response, his emotions slightly overwhelmed from the day and its revelations into his past. "Plus there were about 10 other little dinos in the shop and I've always been one to want a full collection.. so, if we pace ourselves, that's at least 10 more trips."

"13.. Although that could be tripled if we take the colour variations into account."

"Oh, of course! Can't half-arse a collection or it's just pointless."

"I concur."

"That's settled then. Almost 40 more trips to finish off our collection.. And thennnn we can move onto the figurines." Mycroft let out a laugh beside you and tilted to rest his head atop yours for the remainder of the journey home.

---

The evening between you was shared over a meal (where, as promised, a small toast was made to the memory of Sir Dippy) before Mycroft sat to finish the papers for Greg. Eventually you collapsed into bed at a relatively reasonable time, groaning at the throbbing in your legs from the day's adventure before finally slipping into rest.

---

The next day passed relatively quickly. The morning was spent visiting Greg in his office to drop off the papers before the pair of you took a small stroll through the streets of London. Eventually, Mycroft and yourself even got a text message from Sherlock giving a (albeit half-arsed) apology for his behaviour the day before and the rest of the day was spent in bliss. That was until exactly 17 minutes after you got back home when Mycroft's mobile began to ring. He swallowed deeply, showing you the caller ID of the person he had been dreading to speak to post-Eurus and answering.

"Ah, yes.. Hello, Mummy."

[johnkrrasinski]

back home to you; 

full masterlist

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Female!Reader

Word count: 2,508

Warning: smut!! a bit of angst, some fluffy moments but it’s quite angsty, i’m sorry. 

Summary: the mandalorian will always find his way back on your doorstep. always. 

a/n: this was inspired by the song “location unknown” by honne! the idea has been playing in my head for awhile now but i never actually thought of turning it into a fanfiction. i always thought of mando whenever i listen to this song and recently, after season 2 came out i’m back on my mando bullshit okay. i hope you like it. like, reblog and feedback are always appreciated!

Nine months. That’s how long you hadn’t seen him. You sat on your front porch every day, waiting for him to come back. It was always four or five months and he’d always knock on your door four times, to let you know it was him. Nine months since you last felt his touch, and your mind never stopped thinking of him every day. Never stopped wondering if he was okay. Never stopped wondering if he thought of you too.

He was back on the Razor Crest again after the ship being repaired for what felt like the hundredth times. He hopped on his seat, ready for his next destination. New trip, new mission. He looked over his shoulder to the child cooing in his seat, making sure he didn’t mysteriously disappear. He began operating the buttons to ignite the engine.

The ship took off and her face crossed his mind. How long had it been? Eight, nine months? Nine. This was the longest time he hadn’t paid a visit. The longest time he hadn’t been back on the pathway leading up to her cottage that he knew like the back of his hand. He never uttered her name, not even when he was alone or to the child. But he called her out every day, hoping that she was safe.

Safe from The Guilds, safe from the First Order and its stormtroopers, safe from eager bounty hunters. Because how could she ever be safe with him around? Trouble was always going to follow him. He was already risking one life by bringing the child wherever he went, he couldn’t risk another’s. Not when the care that he had for her was profound.

He never felt this way before. The oath that he took froze his heart to any sort of affection or sentiment. It would only be another weakness and as The Mandalorian, he could never be weak. But he did, and he couldn’t fight or deny it. He had a fling once, years before he became the child’s caretaker. But it was brief and meaningless. He was a cold-blooded and ruthless killer and so was his ex. That’s why they were together. But it was nowhere near to what he and she had.

What he and she had was special, warm and passionate. There was a lot of unspoken love and real intimacy when they were together. They’d make love on her bed and the way her lips felt on his still lingered in his head. He might’ve never displayed it, but he felt the desire.

How terribly he wanted to go back to her. He had to. He had to figure out a way to come back to her. Because he could never find whatever they had together out here in centuries. Her photograph that he kept on the dashboard of his ship called out for him to come home, and he had disregarded it several times now, but he couldn’t resist the voice anymore. He just had to get this one mission done and she’d be the first thing he’d fly to. He didn’t want to waste any more day without seeing her and hearing her voice. He needed her. They were going to be alright soon.

You didn’t care how long it would take, you would always wait for him. Wished for him on the stars. You knew it was silly but that was all you could do. He was worth the wait. He was worth every prayer and every longing. She knew he wouldn’t just abandon her for no reason, because she knew his heart. And it was what kept her waiting every damn day.

The night was cold and it was time for her to sleep. Maybe she’d meet him again tonight in her dreams, and he would touch her face. So she locked the door and put on her nightgown. She laid her head on the pillow, stared at the ceiling, replaying the last time he made love to her on this very spot, and that was her view whilst he was deep inside her.

The imagery of their moment together played on her head like a movie until she began drifting away from drowsiness, exhaustion from working the day off and waiting for him at dark took over her body and that’s when she heard it. Those four knocks.

She waited for a few seconds to make sure she wasn’t dreaming or imagining it. Then those four knocks came again and she turned on the lamp on her nightstand and hurriedly slipped into her slippers and sprinted to the door. She reached for the knob and inhaled a deep breath. When she opened it, the person clad in beskar armour knocked the air out of her lungs. “Mando…”

“Did I wake you up?” He hoarsely asked.

“No, I was merely lying on my bed.” You lied, hoping that he wouldn’t see right through you. He excelled in detecting body language and most times, you admired it, but not this in this very second.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes, let’s go inside.”

You shut the door behind him and he paced around the room as if he was uncertain of what to say. “I shouldn’t have come here…”

At this very moment, you wished he’d take off the helmet just for a few seconds for you. So you wouldn’t have to guess the emotions behind his eyes from merely the inflexion of his voice. “Why’d you say that, Mando? You don’t wanna see me anymore?”

“It’s not that simple, _____”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“You know the life that I live. I could never give you peace. I can’t always keep you safe.”

You stepped closer to where he was standing and cupped the shape of his helmet, “I don’t care, Mando. I want you. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

“But you deserved more.”

“No one can live up to you. It’s only you for me.”

He grabbed your hands and put them around his neck, and he placed his fingerless gloved hands on your waist. “There’s only you for me too.” You couldn’t see his eyes but you felt it, the sincerity and yearning behinds his words. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he meant every word. And you wanted him, right there, right now.

“Touch me, Mando.”

“Close your eyes.” He ordered and you complied. You loved to give in to his control, and he made it so easy to give in. You were in the right hands and you knew Mando would never do anything to hurt you, you trusted him with your body and soul.

You felt his plump lips slamming onto yours, taking your breath away. You parted your lips to let his tongue enter and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel his facial hair prickling your cheeks. It took everything in you not to open your eyes and you really didn’t want this intimacy to end simply because you couldn’t control the urge to keep your eyes shut. From the first time you both began this… Whatever you both had, you agreed that you’d never ask him to reveal his face to you and you respected his decision and the oath that he took.

You didn’t care what he looked like underneath that helmet, all you cared about was him and the way he made you feel. You’ve had lovers before but none had shaken your ground the way Mando did with so little words. And if this was all that he could give you, then you’d gladly take it with wide arms.

His fingerless gloves cupped your cheeks and kissed you until you felt like you were suffocating. The fire in his kiss was consuming and you couldn’t have enough of it. He lifted your thighs and you wrapped them around his waist, carrying you to your bedroom. The frigid beskar armour pierced through your skin and you didn’t mind. He put you down and turned you around to undo the zipper of your nightgown and it fell on the floor, leaving you bare. You stepped out of it with your eyes still shut.

“Wait here.” You nodded. You waited until he walked away and you opened your eyes, you didn’t dare to turn around to look at him but it didn’t mean you couldn’t peep from the corner of your eyes. From this angle, you could see a glimpse of his figure. He had his back turned to you and you could make out his muscles, the tone of his skin, and the colour of his hair, and his side profile though vaguely. He had already stripped his uniform and the faint clamour from the clashing irons filled the silence of the room.

You instantly turned your head around and closed your eyes again when he had taken off the last piece. Then you felt a piece of cloth covering your eyesight, dark enough to prevent you from seeing anything. He tied it behind your head and made sure it that it was tight enough for it to keep you concealed. A ritual that was too familiar between the both of you.

His bare hands on your shoulders and turned you around to face him. He kissed your lips once more and gently backed you until the back of your knees hit your bed. You both laid down with him on top of you and the kiss had gotten a little messy as he placed both of your hands on top of your there and pinned them down.

“Don’t move,” he commanded.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied through ragged breaths.

He took off your underwear and threw them on the floor. He trailed kisses from your chin down to your neck, then along your body and made a quick stop at your right breast, sucking the hard nipple, stimulating your body. He continued leaving kisses down to your belly then he spread your legs wider to kiss the inside of your thigh until he reached the area where you wanted him the most.

He licked a long stripe of your folds, devouring you like a famished man, and at that moment, he really was a famished man. He had been deprived of your sweetness, and he wasn’t going to waste any drop. He moaned at the taste of you, kissing and swallowing your wetness. His stubble tickled the insides of your thighs and you wanted to feel the roughness more but his hands blocked you from closing in.

You felt the pressure forming in your stomach, it was slow but steady. Then he scissored you open with two of his digits and you gasped. He curled his digits to rub the spot that made you lose your mind. He loved the overflowing wetness that your body produced even more from his fingers. The noises that his mouth made was euphoric and then you came undone all over his tongue and fingers. “Hmm…” He moaned at the taste of you.

You basked in the afterglow as you gripped the sheets. “Mando, I want more, please…” You begged through your heaving chest. You didn’t care how desperate you sound, you wanted to feel him inside you. “Patience, honey.”

Mando wasn’t the type to use pet names, but during moments like this, he’d often let himself step outside of his own boundaries and you wished you could hear more of that husky voice calling you affectionate nicknames but you were going to take whatever he was willing to give. You kept reminding yourself that.

He went back up and kissed you with his tongue intruding your mouth once more, letting you taste yourself on him. It was such an erotic scenario. You took a bold move, running your hands that were gripping the sheets through his hair, and the strands felt surprisingly soft for such a rugged man like him. You expected him to grab them and put them back down on top of your head but he didn’t. In fact, he grunted when you tugged at the strands.

He pulled back to rub the head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your wetness and then he entered you slowly until he was fully seated in you. He gave you a moment to adjust until you slowly began to relax. “You okay?” He asked.

You nodded, “please, move.” You held onto him and he caged your head with his arms as he began moving at a steady pace. You kept kissing in between his thrusts and there was only the sound of your moans, grunts, heavy breathing and touching bodies. Despite the crisp air, the heat from your mingled flesh kept both of you warm and you couldn’t think of anything else at that moment. Didn’t care to think of how late it was and how early you must wake up tomorrow, didn’t care to think that it might take months to have this moment with him again, didn’t care to think about who he was and what he had done during his absence.

All you could think about was him and the way he moved inside you. You hid your face in his neck, trying to memorize his musky smell. You whimpered in his ear when he hit the spot that made you forget your name and it evoked him to pick up the pace. The pressure in your lower abdomen formed once more, and you tightened your thighs around his waist, needing to feel him as close as possible. “Mando, I’m so- I’m so close…”

“I know, honey. I got you.” He groaned. He sped up and you fell apart beneath him. You arched your back and cried out loud. You couldn’t see it, but Mando watched the way your face contorted when you hit your peak. He never got tired of the sight. It satisfied him knowing that he gave you that earthshaking pleasure and he was going to savour every bit of it.

He released deep inside you not long after and then he gave you shallow thrusts to unload every drop he had left and once he was completely spent, he laid on top of you, sweating and breathing heavily. You trembled under him, your mind was hazy from the orgasm. The feeling of him still being inside you was comforting.

Eventually, once Mando regained his composure, he pulled out and laid beside you. He kissed your sweaty forehead and cuddled you to his chest. “Thank you… For everything you’ve granted me.” He thanked you in a low voice, though you were drifting away from the exhaustion, you heard it. You even managed to form an answer. “You’re welcome. You’re always welcome.”

And perhaps, the first thing you’ll find in the morning was an empty, cold bed but it was okay. As long as he was still there with you, holding you tight through the night until you were lethargic enough to remain unconscious when he snuck out and left you with your heart.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 15 - Net Zero Change

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what’s the truth?, 2.9k

@trevor-wilson-covington​ is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: death mention, swearing

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Alex, Reggie, Flynn and Kyle all sat at a table inside the record store while Willie took care of closing procedures, currently sweeping up around them. Flynn sipped on her soda, eyeing everyone else with a mix of piqued interest and uncertainty.

“I can let you guys stay and talk for about another half hour, but then I’ve gotta kick you out,” Kyle told the three at the table.

“Thanks,” Alex said. “We really appreciate you being so understanding.”

“Not at all,” Kyle said casually. “And Willie’s in the clear, so long as he never pulls a stunt like that again.”

“Thanks for covering for me, man,” Willie said repentantly at Kyle’s rightfully miffed tone.

“I also covered the cost for that jacket, so you owe me for that.”

Alex looked at him, still unable to wrap what had just happened around his head. Climbing somewhere high and screaming felt like an ideal thing to do right then. He wasn’t angry - at least, he didn’t think so - but he still felt like a bottle of Coke that someone had just shaken and dropped a Mento into. His punching bag was already being worn down enough, but since he didn’t have his drums at home it had been a lifesaver recently.

There was Willie, right in front of him, like a miracle. He was so wonderfully unaware of everything, and there was no doubt he hadn’t forgotten Alex. It brought a strange sense of euphoria that battled everything else that had kept his mind dark for so long. He’d used to imagine running into Willie, even for a while after Caleb said he was gone, and thought he’d be the one to catch Willie off guard and rush toward him with joy. Mostly, he’d wanted to knock Willie off his board as slight payback for that one time, but also because it would’ve been satisfying to surprise him for once.

Kyle had gotten up from the table and joined Willie in closing up the store.

“So, you guys all know each other, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Flynn exclaimed. “And I’d like to think that it’s all thanks to me,” she added smugly.

“How so?” Reggie asked in curiosity.

“I helped Willie get into Julie’s concert in Vegas,” she said. “And I’m the reason you two stuck around here.”

Alex looked at her in surprise. Without Flynn, he imagined going with Willie to the Stratosphere or anything else that night wouldn’t have happened. He owed her a serious favor; he wasn’t going to forget that.

“Are you sure you don’t have, like, magic powers or something?” Reggie asked.

Flynn only smiled and quietly sipped her soda again, keeping the mystique for herself.

As Willie disappeared into the kitchen to clean there, Alex looked at Reggie.

“So, do you have as many questions as I do?” he asked.

“Yeah, man,” Reggie said, peeking back toward the kitchen door. “I mean, does Caleb not know?”

“For someone out of the loop,” Flynn butted in. “What’s going on?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took in a deep breath. “So you know how we got signed?”

Flynn nodded. “Uh huh. And congratulations, by the way.”

Alex merely shrugged in acknowledgement.

“Well, the guy who owns the label used to be Willie’s caretaker.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Reggie muttered. Alex suddenly felt a little guilty for missing that detail when talking with the guys.

“Yeah, sorry I forgot to mention it,” he apologized. “Anyway, the day that we signed on, Caleb personally told me that Willie had died in a fire.”

Flynn stared in disbelief.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s fishy.”

“No kidding,” Reggie commented. “But why would he do that? Caleb’s been nothing but good to us.”

“You guys should be careful. He was Willie’s guardian? If his story is that far off, I’d watch out.”

Peering over toward the kitchen, Alex couldn’t get a view of Willie at all. He was dying to hear his side of things.

“I guess we’ll have to see. Flynn, how are you getting home?”

“Oh, I was just gonna take the bus.”

“With your equipment?” he said, already worried. It was a lot for her to be lugging around, whether she could carry it alone or not. “Flynn, let us get you a taxi.”

She looked at him, and he expected her to protest and say she could handle herself. To his surprise, she simply huffed.

“You’re right. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah, and one of us could go with you to make sure you get home safe.”

“I’ll go,” Reggie volunteered. He glanced at Alex and it was clear he was giving him an opportunity.

“Thanks Reggie,” Flynn said. “You guys have gotta keep me updated with everything going on, though. I smell drama. A lot of it.” She finished the last few gulps of her soda and stood up to grab her gear.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, man,” Reggie murmured to Alex, patting him as he rose to help her out.

“See you.”

As he watched them make their way outside, Alex sighed.

“So, Vegas, huh?” Kyle said as he reentered the room, making him jump.

“Uh, yeah,” Alex replied warily. This guy seemed fairly nice, but he could never be too careful about how much he told strangers. He watched him dust the shelves, trying to relax in his seat.

“Willie doesn’t talk about it much, so I’m kinda surprised he had such a reaction tonight. I got the idea he hated the place.”

Puzzled, Alex didn’t respond immediately. He wondered what could’ve happened.

“Well, I’m sure he has his reasons. But when I met him we had a pretty good time.”

“Hmm,” was all that Kyle said as he looked into space thoughtfully before moving on to locking things up.

Alex realized then that he was the only customer left in the store and he’d simply let his friends leave him. His head was certainly not on straight. The time was nearly midnight, and the options of transportation and his experiences with them only dialed up his anxiety. Busses were just weird because everyone could watch him, taxis were expensive and he’d given most of his cash to Reggie, and the chances of having Bobby pick him up were very low.

“Hey,” Willie was standing over him, skateboard in hand. Alex looked up, startled once again, but the feeling of Willie’s hand on his shoulder softened it.

“Hey.”

“Where did Reggie go?”

“Oh,” Alex started. “He’s making sure Flynn gets home safe.”

Nodding, Willie glanced outside.

“What about you?”

Alex rose with a sigh.

“I’ll figure something out.”

They left the store and slowly walked to the corner. Willie still gripped his board as he gazed up at the red hand on the opposite side of the street.

“Do you...wanna walk with me to my place?” he asked Alex. “‘Cuz you look like you want to talk. Then we can find you a way home.”

Sticking his tongue in his cheek, Alex eyed him thoughtfully. It was almost like they hadn’t just spent four months apart - Willie could read him like a book.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Unfortunately, that made him stuff his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. He’d let himself take Willie’s hand before and have high hopes because he’d let himself ignore reality back then. Even when the guy who he admittedly still had a crush on was back from the dead, Alex didn’t want to tempt fate again. As they both crossed the street, he felt himself hunch inward just as he had earlier with Reggie.

“So, I’m guessing it’s a little weird to see me, since you thought I was a goner and everything,” Willie started nervously.

“Dead,” Alex said, looking at him seriously. “You were dead.”

Willie slowed his pace and sucked in a breath.

“Yeah.”

For a few yards they didn’t speak. Something ate at Alex’s insides, and he couldn’t put a finger on it. Change had always been his worst enemy, but this was a good change. Willie was alive, then he was dead, and now he was back. It should’ve been like net zero change, cancelled out like math. He should be fine about this, right? Why was he not fine?

“Alex, are you...are you mad?” Willie dared to ask.

He paused in his tracks, arms slacking against his sides. Looking over at Willie, then down at the sidewalk again, he nodded.

“Yeah, actually.” Immediately the eating feeling worsened. “I don’t know why that is, but you’re right. I am kinda mad.”

Willie furrowed his brow, but remained quiet for a minute as they continued walking.

“Are you mad at me?” he wondered aloud, finally.

“Maybe?” Alex said, feeling the temperature in his veins rise the more he went on. “That sounds silly, I know, because it wasn’t you who lied to me and put me through absolute agony for weeks on end. You were just the person I thought was dead and so every time I thought about you, it hurt. I don’t even know why it hurt so much. It’s not supposed to hurt when you’re still practically a stranger to me. All I know is that we kind of liked each other and then I thought I’d never find out anything else. I mean, we only knew each other for one day. One fucking day. That was it!”

Alex saw Wilie flinch at the unexpected use of language. A little too late, he realized he should’ve been more gentle. While it was true that he needed to finally release more than just self-pity, it wasn’t worth making Willie miserable for it.

“Wow,” Willie murmured. It already sounded more wounded than Alex could bear.

“That was harsh; I shouldn’t have blown up like that.”

He looked over at Willie to be sure he hadn’t done too much damage already.

“I can’t imagine how awful that was,” Willie said simply.

The pressure that had heated up his veins rapidly began to cool down as Alex realized he was handling this all wrong. He’d momentarily lost control and already saw its potential for harm.

“It’s not you I’m mad at. It’s Caleb.”

“That makes two of us,” Willie told him. “You want to know what really happened?”

“I want to know everything.”

They continued walking along as Willie seemed to try summing up the past few months properly in his mind.

“I don’t know exactly where to start,” he said.

“Well, why don’t you start where we left off?” Alex suggested. It was only fitting that one of them was walking the other home, just like they’d been doing the last time they’d seen each other. There was a funny sense of poetry to it.

“Okay,” Willie began. “I guess what really started it was when we were up on the Stratosphere, remember?”

“Uh huh.”

“I told you that I have amnesia because I had a memory come back.”

“Right, about your dad.”

“You remember this really well,” Willie commented. Alex bowed his head, feeling his lip curl the tiniest bit. “Anyway, I started drawing the things I remembered. And I mean, I drew every detail I could. Even though back then it was just the one about my dad and then the first time that I ran away from Caleb - ”

“Wait, what?” Alex blurted.

Willie cocked his head to the side as he tried to keep the narrative easy to follow.

“Oh yeah that was weird, I had this dream where everything was backwards and it happened like every night and it took me forever to figure out that it was a memory. Anyway, the reason I have amnesia right now? I was trying to run from Caleb because he was a total a-hole and then I got hit in the head!”

Alex looked at his casual expression with mild horror.

“That’s a lot to process,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, I guess he was putting on a face after that, because he didn’t really get nasty until right before I left him for good.”

By the time Willie finished dishing everything to Alex, they had been standing by his front door for a solid ten minutes. Alex could only stand there and let everything turn over in his mind like a taffy pull. Moreover, a pit of dread was forming in his stomach at the same time as a spark of joy grew in his chest.

“So...Harrison Ford?” he said.

Willie smiled. “Much cooler than Han Solo.”

“I still can’t believe you were literally planning to skate your way here. Even I would’ve ruled that out after a minute.”

Lifting a hand defensively, Willie opened his mouth but couldn’t find words.

“I - I will never live that down,” he chuckled.

Alex chuckled in turn. “No.”

For a moment he just looked at Willie. It was the first time that night where his vision wasn’t clouded with questions or overwrought with mixed emotions. This time, it was just as he’d seen him that first moment when they’d sat across from each other at the diner. That was ages ago, but it didn’t seem to have dimmed or faded one bit in Alex’s memory. Here, he was just Willie. It was so nice to see that again.

“What made you come to LA?” he asked. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. 

“You did.” Willie looked right into his eyes as he said it.

The words were plain and honest. Something swelled in Alex’s chest as he heard them. If anyone else had said that - the guys, Julie, even his sister Abby - he would’ve doubted it a little. That was the awful thing with his anxiety is that it immediately twisted everyone’s words into betrayal. Not Willie’s, though.

“Why me?”

Willie got thoughtful, eyes unfocused for a moment.

“I don’t know. I’d do anything for you,” he said, gazing back up at Alex again.

Alex shifted his weight.

“Because I helped you start regaining memories, right?”

It made sense that if he’d been in that position, the person who’d been with him in those moments would mean a great deal to him, too.

“No,” Willie said. “Just ‘cuz. I still like you.”

Alex blinked and his mind emptied of all thought - a feat he’d never imagined occurring. Soon he found himself caught looking into those brown eyes, and instead of wanting to throw in a line, he wished he could plant himself there and spread roots. If it were up to him, he had no desire to go back home and he would just stay happy where he was.

It took a while to realize that he’d slowly begun to lean forward, lips parted as he gazed down at Willie’s mouth. Their noses were just barely not touching, and they hung in the balance waiting for the other to cross that threshold. Willie looked vaguely hypnotized, if not a little indecisive. His thoughts finally caught up to his actions, and once Alex saw what he was doing he turned away.

Dammit, how could you mess that up, Alex? he berated himself. He was already so out of focus and not thinking about the consequences of his actions; he couldn’t go around treating Willie like something else to dump his turmoil upon. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture. Willie nervously ran a hand through his hair, visibly confused.

“So....” Alex began awkwardly. “You have your own place?”

Willie nodded, not looking him in the eyes anymore.

“Yeah, it’s kinda nice,” he said plainly. “You’ll have to check it out one of these days. You could see Sheldon, too.”

“Yes,” Alex said quickly. “Yes, I would totally be down to come see you and Sheldon. That would be great.”

He hated that the natural cadence in his voice was so sarcastic sometimes. Right now, it didn’t sound genuine at all and he desperately wanted to convey how much he meant every word.

“Bet you’re sort of busy with the band and school and all, though,” Willie said, clearly a little despondent. Alex really wanted to go back and fix the moment they’d had before. He wasn’t making it any better.

“Well, I’m free all next Saturday. You’re not working, are you?”

“I can arrange things with Kyle to get covered. I’m usually on his good side and he doesn’t stay mad for long, so I’m not worried.”

“That’s good.” A pause. “So it’s okay if I come on Saturday?”

“Sure, sure,” Willie rushed to say. “I’m totally down for that. Uh...I just remembered that we’ve gotta get you back home. Did you know how you were gonna do that?”

“Uh yeah, I was gonna just catch the bus,” Alex said, entirely impromptu. After embarrassing himself so badly with Willie, he could override any fears about using public transportation. All he wanted to do was lift his hood over his head and pull the strings so it closed over his face.

“Got it,” Willie replied.

“But I’ll be excited to see you next Saturday,” Alex added. He saw Willie’s eyes light up a little and it made him smile in relief as he began stepping away from Willie’s door. Biting his lip in his usual cute manner, Willie nodded at him.

“See you then.”

Alex exhaled in excitement as he made his way up the steps to the street, barely able to take his eyes off Willie. Only when he couldn’t see him anymore did he force himself to turn away.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 9- Changes

Summary: Getting poisoned didn’t feel very nice, but alas the world moves on, and it needs the Umbrella Academy to find the source of its demise.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

You wake up with a jolt, memories from last night flooding into your mind, the wind, screaming, and the blood. Allison and Vanya, and that psychotic prick who stabbed you with a poisoned Swiss Army knife, evidently leading you to a gruesome couple hours of living through a half-death.

You look around the room, studying your surroundings as you lay on your back. You’re in your old bedroom in the Academy. Well that’s good, they got you here safe and sound. You sit yourself up into a seated position, leaning yourself against the headboard. You look down at yourself, sighing in relief as you realize that your clothing has been changed. You push the covers off of you, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed, you look down and notice your boots are nicely set out, patiently waiting for you. As well as your hooded denim jacket that’s hanging off of a nearby lounge chair. You stand up, grabbing your boots and pulling them on, while you hold onto the lounge chair. When you’re finished you hear the familiar footsteps of Diego creaking down the hallway towards your room.

You swiftly open the door just as he’s reaching for the handle, “I’m gonna assume you changed my clothes, so thanks for that.” You tell him quickly, as you hold the door open for him to step inside. “You have no idea how worried I was when you wouldn’t respond to anything we did. You just looked dead, but you were still breathing....uh...Klaus had to calm me down.” He rambles on, as you touch his arm to comfort him. “Leonard Peabody stabbed me with a poisoned knife as him and Vanya were leaving. I didn’t see it coming....He knows more about us then I realized, sick bastard new my weakness.” You growl, angry that you were blindsided by his gutsy yet calculated attack. It was honestly ballsy of him to just stand there so confidently like that. Of course he would, he knew what he was doing.

“Jesus, that’s horrible. It made me sick to see you in such a vulnerable state like that. You looked like you were in so much pain....Pogo said you had some type of venom or deadly poison running through your veins...and we’d have to wait it out.” He tells you, his voice on he verge of breaking, Diego’s a lot more shaken up then you’d first realized. “D, I’m right here. Safe and poison free.” You smile up at him, tugging at his sweater collar as you give him a sweet kiss on his plush lips. He instantly relaxes into your touch, wrapping his good arm around your waist and pulling you in closer. This intimate moment is fully needed and deeply appreciated, you’ve missed Diego even if you both haven’t seen each other for only a single day. You slowly pull away, another question surging through your mind.

“Uh, how are you not behind bars right now. I mean, last we saw each other cops were pulling guns on you?” You ask him curiously, he gives you another kiss in response.

“A friend of mine let me out, he knows I didn’t kill Patch. He’s still working on finding more evidence....but until then we have work to do.” You take in a deep breath, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Never a moment to rest, huh.....alright fine, let’s go downstairs.” You tell him, looking back up at him, his eyes flick down to your lips for a quick moment. You smile at how adorable he’s being without even realizing it, he smiles back unsure of what’s causing your joy.

“I like your shirt today, it’s really bursting with the autumn colors.” He chuckles at your teasing comment, giving you another pleasurable kiss. He happens to be wearing his black and blue sweater that you bought him for his birthday. That’s the legitimate most color you’ve seen on him in months, even though most of your clothing is considerably darker too, you still flash in a bit of color here and there.

“Come on, Five’s waiting in the main living room for us, he’s got a new game plan.” Diego tells you, still holding onto your waist. You take his arm wrapped around your waist and pull him away from you, he frowns until you bring him in for another heated embrace, before pulling away and squeezing his bum as you hastily walk out the door.

——

“The bastard that nearly killed Y/N and Allison is still out there, with Vanya. We need to go after her.” Explains Diego as Five paces back and forth in front of him, you, and Klaus. You’re sitting on the couch opposite of Klaus, the both of you listening intently to the plans.

“Vanya is not important” Grumbles Five, wanting to only focus on finding Harold Jenkins.

“Hey, that’s your sister. A little heartless even for you, Five.” Jabs Diego, actually sticking up for Vanya for once.

“I’m not saying I don’t care about her, but if the apocalypse happens today, she goes along with the other seven billion of us. Harold Jenkins is our first priority.” Replies Five, needing everyone to understand what’s really important. Diego looks away for a second to think, “I agree. Let’s go.” He answers with, making up his mind about what needs done first. You agree with the two of them.

“You guys count me out. I mean, you know, no offense or whatever. It’s just...I kinda feel like this is a whole lot of pressure for newly-sober me, so...” Klaus trails off, waving his hand in the air.

You get off the couch, standing in between Diego and Five, “Get your ass up, your coming with us.” You tell him bluntly, stating it as an order rather then a suggestion.

 “No, no, no. I mean, I think we can all agree that my power’s...I mean, it’s pretty much useless. I’d just be holding you guys back.” He whines, really not wanting to budge.

“Klaus get up.” Demands Five dryly. Klaus frowns giving Five a bit of sass.

“You can’t make me.” A second later Diego throws a knife at him, landing it perfectly into the couch, right in between his open legs. Taking the not so subtle hint, Klaus begrudgingly gets up, “Oh, then again, a little exercise couldn’t hurt.”

——

Five pulls up to Harold Jenkins house, the same one that you, Allison, Diego, and Five broke into just the other day. You all get out of the car, making your way to the front door, you stop on the sidewalk catching a nasty whiff of something or someone that’s recently deceased. Oh shit. The others walk past you oblivious, you shake your head and continue forward. The door’s unlocked so its easy access, then when all of you walk into the house, you see him. Harold Jenkins himself, laying dead on the floor, with a hefty multitude of random kitchen knives piercing his torso.

“Gross.” You mutter, walking in closer as you cover your sensitive nose with your arm.

“It’s not exactly what I was expecting.” Says Diego, staring down in shock at the bloodied up dead guy in front of him.

“The understatement of the year.” Quips Five. “No sign of Vanya.” Adds Klaus, yeah, where is she?

“Let’s get out of here before I vomit or the cops show up.” You mumble, covering your nose with your shirt now, turning to leave, Diego and Klaus following.

“In a minute.” Says Five as he walks over to the dead body, taking off the eye-patch as he unwraps the glass eye he’s kept with him for a long time. “Come on, Five, what are you..” Starts Diego who goes to cover his mouth. 

“That’s not...very sanitary.” You add as Five touches the bloody face.

“Same eye color, same pupil size. Guys this is it. The eye I’ve been carrying around for decades, it...It’s found its rightful home.” He says in awe, taking out the glass eye.

“We got the guy we needed to kill to stop the apocalypse.” States Diego, half saying that as a question, not quit believing that this is it. “Yay! Let’s go.” Claps Klaus who turns to leave, Diego grabbing his green army vest to stop him from exiting the house. “No way, it can’t be that easy.” You tell Five, he stands up pulling out a piece of paper, “Look, this is the only note that I got from the Commission. The one that says -Protect Harold Jenkins- aka Leonard Peabody. But who killed him? Who did this?” Wonders Five.

“I have an idea...how about we ask Vanya..” Klaus begins as Five teleports away. Shit you were about to explain something very important to them. “I know who did this.” You interrupt Klaus, him and Diego’s attention snapping over to you.

“This is gonna sound wild, but trust me okay? Vanya has powers, she’s always had them....No one ever knew...because Reginald gave her those pills and had four year old Allison rumor her into forgetting. She’s wicked powerful too, and probably terrified.” You explain to them, their faces a mix of confusion, curiosity, and slight apprehension.

“What? Are you serious?” Diego asks you, you give him a small nod.

“She can throw things without touching them and she can make it windy when she’s upset, I don’t know what else, but she probably really needs our help right now. So let’s get out of here.” You urge, not a hint of a doubt in your voice, Klaus nods, believing you. Diego still looks a little unconvinced, “Trust me Diego, I saw everything. I have no reason to lie.” He looks up at you in understanding, deciding that even though he hasn’t seen anything yet, he trusts in your word.

——

“No sign of Vanya.” Says Five to you and Diego as the three of you walk side-by-side on the upstairs balcony, heading for the wooden staircase to get to the first floor. All of you have been searching around the Academy for a missing Vanya, but with no luck. “She’s not in any of the rooms.” Adds Diego, as Klaus comes into view. “She’s not downstairs either.” He tells the three of you. Not that you needed to be told she wasn’t in the Academy at all, if she was here you’d be able to smell her, but the boys went about to look anyways.

“Well, I’m out. Diego you coming?” You walk past the three of them, headed for the stairs.

“Wait where are you guys going?” Wonders Five and Klaus.

You turn back around, one hand still on the railing, “As long as Hazel and Cha-Cha are still breathing, I’m not gonna stop hunting them.” You explain to them truthfully, they look at you at a loss for words, but none of them make an attempt to stop you. “Y/N, I’ll be down, I gotta get some of my things first.” Diego tells you, turning down the other hallway. You nod, giving Five and Klaus a quick glance as you continue down the stairwell.

Deciding that you’d like to have a tiny shot of something strong first to help awaken your senses...well...possibly...eh who are you kidding you just need a drink. You maintain walking through the living room doorway, heading straight for the bar. You find a shot glass and something strong that will help satisfy your taste. As you’re preparing your drink, you eavesdrop on Five and Klaus’ argument in the front room, the conversation focused on how Five has an addiction to the apocalypse, he then smashes his glass eye against the nearby wall. Grumbling something else to Klaus before he briskly struts his was into the main living room and right up to the bar. You smirk at him, “Trouble in paradise?” He glares up at you as he sits on a barstool angrily, “You wouldn’t happen to know how to make a good margarita, now would you?” He wonders, honestly hoping you won’t disappoint. You take a quick shot, downing the tiny glass in one clean motion, enjoying the scratchy buzz of the cold liquid sliding down your throat. You set it down with a loud clank, “Yeah, I could do that.” He nods, giving you a tight lipped smile, as he goes to say something to Dolores who’s perched on the bar to Five’s right. You get the ingredients out, shoving ice into the blender and pouring in the important stuff.

Once finished, you grab three glasses. One for Five, you, and Dolores. Pouring out the cold neon green slushy, you grab a twisty straw and a tiny umbrella. Touching up the best margarita you’ve ever made, “It’s on the house.” You wink at him, sliding the glass over the counter with ease. He gladly accepts, sucking down the liquid as soon as it’s in his grasp. The both of you sit in a comfortable silence, each enjoying your own margarita.

“Y/N, do you think we really did it? Think we actually stopped the apocalypse?” He suddenly wonders out loud, you set your glass down, leaning yourself against the other side of the bar to better face him. “Hard to say. In my experience you should always be alert for anything. But I don’t know....something just doesn’t sit well with me yet. I can’t explain it.” You tell him, he furrows his brows thinking hard about what you just said. In all honesty, Five’s always considered you to be the most competent and level headed out of everyone. Although he may have only of known you for two years before he timetraveled. You did make a lasting impression, one that you’ve never realized. But then again, when does Five ever truly express any of his more deeper feelings?

Out of nowhere a random knock is heard at the door, both you and Five make knowing eye contact. “Eh, I’ll get it.” He turns around getting off the barstool, heading for the front door with a margarita still in hand. You can hear him open it, then someone speaks, who’s definitely not Vanya. Their conversation is so casual and unbothered, but who is he talking to?

Five walks peacefully into the living room, as Hazel follows behind him. You unclasp a hidden pistol from underneath the bars counter-top. Cocking it, and raising it up to shoot in one swift calculated motion.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You hiss at him, he quickly raises his hands into the air, gun still in his left hand, but not pointed towards anyone.

“Please. Just give me a couple minutes to explain some things. It’s important.” He says calmly, not wanting to get shot.

“Drop the gun. Then we’ll talk like adults.” You tell him, your tone still hostile. He nods, dropping the gun onto the floor, and kicking it over to Five. Who’s just casually sipping his margarita from the barstool, watching the whole interaction.

“So, you’re here to kill me?” Nonchalantly asks Five.

“Well, I can understand why you might feel that way, you know” Hazel mutters, standing there weaponless and slightly awkward.

“Well you attacked our house, tried to kill my family, and kidnapped my brother.” Says Five, you quickly cut in. “Not to mention that you stabbed me with an antique metal boat. And you killed Patch, the detective who was looking for Klaus...she never hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.” You snap at him, your gun still raised. He looks down with a sigh.

“Cha-Cha was the one that killed her, I was just gonna knock her out....to give us enough time to leave. Sorry about your friend.” Your eyebrows furrow, Hazels voice surprisingly holds no lies, you stay unswayed still angry about it. But now you have a clearer idea of who’s on your hit list now, it’s just Cha-Cha. You know Hazel’s not a good person, but you can read people very well, and he just looks so tired of everything, he lacks that coldness that most true killers have. Deciding he’s harmless for now, you lower your gun, keeping one arm on the counter as you bring the gun down to your side.

“Well, there’s not much I can do about the past. I’m not the only killer in this room. You two got your own bloody histories. Speaking of which, that job you did in Calhoun, Five, that shits legendary.” He tells the two of you sincerely, looking up to you as he continues, “Y/N, when you busted that sex trafficking ring in Madrid, killing all the guards and leaving the main pimp alive for the feds. Granted, you blinded him in one eye and shattered his right arm beyond repair. But still...impressive.” You think about that moment briefly, it was more of a ruined vacation to say the least. “I can’t believe I’m actually in the same room as the two of you, after all..” Five looks up from his drink, half annoyed and half curious.

“Hazel why are you here?” Hazel stops for a second to speak, “Well I..” Suddenly he’s cut off when Diego appears out of nowhere, kicking him hard from behind. “Diego, stop!” Shouts Five, “You know, before you kill him, you might wanna hear what he has to say.”

Diego completely ignores him, you’re not even sure if he saw you behind the bar. Completely over taken by his own sense of tunnel vision when it comes to fighting bad guys. He tumbles around with Hazel, getting a punch in here and there, stepping back to pull out a knife, “I’m gonna kill you for what you did to Patch.” He growls, throwing his arm out, slicing where Hazel just was. Thankfully Hazel’s a trained assassin, so he’s able to dodge Diego’s blows. That is until Diego stabs him right in his thick left thigh, you and Five grimace, yeah that looked painful. The two of them duke it out for another couple seconds before Hazel aggressively bear hugs Diego, holding his arms down while lifting him up. Diego does not like this in the slightest, and a moment later he bites into Hazel’s ear. Five finally gets off the stool, grabbing an empty tequila bottle, teleporting behind Diego, and hitting him over the head with the glass. Diego gets knocked out instantly, Hazel letting him go, as he falls unconsciously to the floor. “I draw the line at biting. Hazel, whatever you came here to say, I suggest you make it quick, before he comes round.” Says Five, walking back over to his drink.

“I left my partner, quit the Commission, came to volunteer.” Says Hazel quickly, straight and to the point.

“For what?” You ask him puzzled, not 100% convinced that now he’s all gun-ho and ready to stop killing people. “To help stop the apocalypse.” Five starts to chuckle, Hazel’s face falling in confusion. 

“What on earth could be so funny to you right now?” Five then goes on to explain things about how the apocalypse is over and how we found that random guy who supposedly causes it. They then converse about what life could have been like for Five if he never got caught up with the Handler and the Commission or if he never even timetraveled at all. Hazel says his farewells and even gives you the weapon that killed Patch, so Diego’s name can rightfully be cleared. You don’t stop him when he finally leaves, you’ve figured enough blood has been spilled this week already, and you’d rather not add any new stains onto the Academy’s carpet.

——

When Diego finally comes round, you and Five are sitting on the barstools watching him wake up. “Good, you’re up. Ready for a drink now?” Says Five as casually as ever, Diego suddenly jumps to his feet, looking around for a missing Hazel. “Where is he?”

“We let him go.” You tell him, Diego’s eyes shoot open in astonishment, he was so close to avenging Patch. “You what?”

“Now that the apocalypse is over, it’s time for the fighting to stop.” Reasons Five, Diego’s face turns into a scowl, as he leans down to pick up his dropped knife off of the floor. “He didn’t kill Patch. Cha-Cha did.” You try getting through to him, but he seems to not care.

“So what? They were both there that night.” He snaps, you raise an eyebrow at his moodiness and abrupt change in tone.

 “So? He happened to give us...both of their guns. Which will clear you, because the ballistics will match Eudora’s crime scene.” You tell him as he thinks about the information. “Hazel came looking for a way out. He wanted a fresh start. And he happened to have in his possession the one thing that could do our family a little good. So it’s time to move on.” Five says, adding more to what you’ve already said in hopes Diego will listen.

“Not a chance.” He answers with, you let out a sigh at his stubbornness. Five gets up, walking over to Dolores to pick her up so he can leave, not wanting to try and argue with Diego about his refusal to stop hunting both of them. “Suit yourself.” He adds, turning to walk out of the room, you watch as he goes knowing that you’re gonna have to be the one to talk some sense into Diego.

“I’m done hunting Hazel. He’s far from innocent, I’ll say that much. But...he’s not worth my anger anymore....I’ll kill Cha-Cha, and then I’ll sleep better at night knowing she can’t hurt anyone else anymore...and the bitch got what she deserved.” You truthfully tell him, hoping that he’ll take your side and understand your meaning. You look over to him, he frowns hanging his head down.

“I can’t, she was my friend.” He whispers honestly, avoiding your disappointed gaze.

“And she was mine. I doubt Patch would have wanted you to kill a faultless man. He didn’t kill her, Diego.” He looks up at your sincere gaze, he knows you’re right, but it’s just so difficult for him to accept that. You study his face, and in all honesty you’re not 100% certain in what he might say next, so you give him a hard decision that will feasibly sway his mindset.

“If you try and kill Hazel....I’ll stop you.” You pause for a moment to look at his conflicted face, he looks away from you. “You know I can stop you if I really wanted to. You’re not an idiot to how dangerous I can be...so don’t be an idiot.” You’re voice is almost harsh with the small threat you’ve just made, Diego hasn’t felt this nervous around you since he was a teenager. He looks back up to you, letting out a shaky breath, he puts his dagger back into its holster.

“Fine. You’re more important to me than killing Hazel....I can live with that.” He finally says, catching the big relief in your eyes. You give him a small smile, “Good, I really didn’t wanna have to break your arm.” His eyes go wide at your statement, “Oh calm down, I wouldn’t touch your face, I gotta keep you lookin pretty.” He rolls his eyes at that, revealing the smallest of hidden smiles.

——

You’re lounging on your bed, absentmindedly throwing a small bouncy ball against your wall over and over again. When Allison walks into your room, she gives you a tired smile, but you can see past that, noticing the deep worry that seeps out. You catch the ball without looking, standing up and setting it down on your bed. “Glad to see you’re alive and well. I don’t know where anyone else is right now if you’re trying to find Luther.” You tell her, she shakes her head, giving her notepad into your hand. Follow me. He has Vanya. Is what the note reads, your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but wanting to know more you nod ready to help in anyway you can.

She leads you down the hallway and down many flights of stairs, and then finally into an elevator before you both are standing at the end of a creepy metal hallway. You’ve never seen this part of the Academy before, but you have a terrible idea as to why that might be. She continues forward as you hear the agitated voices of Klaus, Diego, and Luther. As well as someone faintly pounding on glass. What is going on?

When you reach the end of the hallway, Allison stops, your eyes find the three boys heatedly yelling about Vanya. Then you finally see her, she looks terrified and is almost in tears as she silently screams, pounding her hands against the glass opening in the metal door. Luther turns around, immediately noticing the two of you. Who are staring on in shock and rising anger. “Y/N. Allison, what are you two doing down here? Allison you should be in bed.” Says Luther, more concerned for Allison then Vanya, who’s fucking imprisoned in a soundproof metal cage. Allison begins to furiously scribble down some words on her notepad. Let her go, it reads. Luther shakes his head, “I can’t do that. She hurt you.”

Allison scribbles more down, holding it up for them to see when she’s done. My Fault. Luther won’t be moved, “I’m sorry but she’s staying put.” Allison shakes her head, walking over to get Vanya out, Luther puts his large arm out to stop her. “Just until we know what we’re dealing with.” She goes to walk around him as Diego and Klaus walk over to you by the doorway, but he stands unmoving, she steps back in frustration, “She stays put.” Says Luther, giving the final word. Allison’s face makes an angry but pained expression as she pushes his chest twice, letting out her frustration physically, knowing whatever hits she deals on Luther, won’t hurt him in the slightest. He doesn’t even budge, even when she makes an attempt at throwing weak punches into his arm that’s currently holding her back. “Come on. You need to rest.” He tells her, Allison doesn’t want to listen but she’s getting tired and knows she won’t be able to get past Luther. Diego and Klaus don’t even make an effort to try and fight him either, it’s not worth it.

You stand defiantly in the doorway as Klaus walks past you, Diego tugs gently on your arm, silently asking you to go with him, knowing that fighting with Luther will only make things worse. “We can’t just fucking leave her down here.” You snap at Luther, and a bit at the others. You brush Diego’s hand off of you as you walk up to Luther and Allison. “I’m not leaving without Vanya. So get out of my way.” You growl at him through clenched teeth, seething with anger at what he’s done. How dare he leave Vanya down here all alone, like a caged animal. You won’t stand for it.

Luther let’s out a discouraged sigh, really dreading a fight with you, the legitimate only person who could kick his ass and definitely hurt him. If you truly wanted to, and right now you do, very badly. “We don’t need to do this.” He pleads, fearing what he might have to do next.

“It wasn’t a suggestion. Move.” You hiss, he nudges Allison to get out of the way. She gives you a sad look as she walks past you, standing next to Diego and Klaus who came back to see what’s going on. “I know what it feels like to get a broken leg. It doesn’t feel very nice. So I advise that you step aside, before I make an example out of you.” He takes a step forward, staring dangerously down at your unflinching form. Taking this as your answer, you punch him in the stomach as you kick his right leg out from under him. He swiftly falls to the floor, catching himself on his hands and knees with a pained grunt. As you go to walk around him, he throws his right arm up, stabbing you with something tiny but cold. The fuck? As an answer you kick him in the face, he falls back a couple feet, landing near Allison and Diego who are watching this in shock. Not knowing how to handle the two of you.

You turn back around to look at Vanya, she’s looking at something on the ground next to your boots with a scared face. You follow her gaze to see a lone surgeons needle, empty on the cold floor by your feet. And then it hits you, Luther fucking drugged you, he knew you’d fight back. And he’s smart enough to know that you’d win, so he drugged you, preventing you from being able to help Vanya for awhile. Fucking bastard. The effects take hold of you quickly as your vision begins to go spotty, you suddenly feel numb all over and extremely tired. Shit what did he put in the needle. You look over at him, falling to the floor, as you land hard on your hands and knees. The room seems to sway as you sit down, your arms sliding out from under you. As you fall sideways onto the hard cement floor, Diego races over to you as Luther stands up, wiping a trail of blood from his nose.

“Fuck you.” Is the only thing you have time to rasp out, your world falling away into darkness, as Diego tells you something that you can’t even hear anymore.

——

A loud thunderous smashing sound of metal on metal vibrates violently throughout the Academy. Rousing you from your slumber, you suck in a deep breath, sitting up instantly from your spot on the couch. Your cloudy mind is trying to pick up the pieces of what happened before you got drugged. Oh, that’s right, Luther drugged you so you wouldn’t release Vanya from her steel confinement. But, onto the current problem of the hour, that sound came from below the house. Swallowing hard, you know exactly who’s the cause of this monstrous racket....Vanya.

[avas-inner-demons-are-babies]

Ohana

Ship: None (Though you may take implications as you please)

Summary: Leif has always insisted that he should be allowed to do things on his own. Well, now he’s on his own and honestly...he isn’t enjoying it. Perhaps a bit of new company can help him sort out his feelings. 

A/N: Hey everyone! World’s most confused college freshman here, bringing you another MID fic that took waaay to long to get typed up. Legitimately, this has been sitting in my Google Docs for months, just taunting me. But there’s been a little less stresso in my espresso lately, so I took time to actually make myself sit down and get it done. I may not ship Ava and Leif personally, but their dynamic is just *chefs kiss*. I’ll never get over that whole “If you promise not to kill me then I won’t leave you behind.” “You’re with me till you die” scene. It makes me feel things. But anyways, this is nearly 14 full pages in G-Docs, and I hope you can all enjoy!

A/N 2.0: So apparently one of the cons of staying up late to finish a fic is forgetting to attach the actual fic itself to the post. My bad guys, here she be. 

In his couple hundred years of living, Leif can proudly boast that he has done many, many things; some very common for Daemos of his age; others common to those much older than him; and there have even been a few select occasions when he has done things that even the most aged and experienced elders cannot ever claim to have done (getting exiled, befriending a prince, travelling dimensions to a world full of humans, befriending a human, living with a human, laughing with a human...the list seems to grow daily now).

However, out of all the various activities that he has taken part in throughout his life, he can safely say that people-watching has not been one of them. Back on Daemos, staring- like most other interactions, whether they be direct or otherwise- often resulted in battle; which, in turn, resulted in a lot of shouting and blood-shed. It was a silent show of disrespect and of challenge; and only idiots and warriors sought out battles willingly. And while the title of ‘warrior’ technically goes hand-in-hand with Leif’s recently earned place as a knight, the position is just that- recently earned. And despite what some may say, he is not an idiot. Considerate? Scholarly? Absolutely not. But street-smart and clever? Let’s just say he hadn’t become an infamous assassin by running solely off of reckless impulse and uneducated whims. But now, here on Earth, almost all of those skills have fallen into uselessness, and he can people-watch without any real concern for his life. 

And by the Gods is he watching.

He is watching and scanning and listening and praying. Praying for a familiar face. Listening for the sound of a high voice discussing things of no importance, or for a loud, bratty complaint about anything at all; for a gentle-but-stern reprimand laced with patience, or a subtly nervous acknowledgement of some strange discomfort; even for a soft-but-proud observation of something completely obvious. Scanning for a flash of hot pink eyes or a bobbing carrot-top head of hair or a giant amidst the crowd of short humans. Watching so intensely for all of these things that the rest of the world seems to have filtered down into a watery hum. 

To put it quite plainly, Leif is lost. Very lost in a very crowded place, with no idea where his group has vanished to or where he himself should (or even can) be. It had been fun at first; being able to do as he pleased; wandering wherever his whims decided to take him, stealing food from a group of small humans, kicking over trash cans, and just overall being a minor nuisance. But invigoration tends to fade very quickly  when one is travelling a lot of unfamiliar terrain, and as it goes, so too does energy. It doesn’t help that they’d been at this “music festival” -as Ava had called it- for quite some time before he’d broken away from her and the others, and admittedly, he is starting to feel the strain on his feet from all the walking. In addition, the ridiculously large gathering of humans that bustle around him is beginning to leave him overwhelmed. And on top of that…

  “...it’s starting to get cold” He pouts internally, suddenly rather grateful for the double-layered, long sleeve human shirt that Ava had gotten him. Ever since the Fall Festival, he’d noticed the air outside growing chillier by the day. It was starting to get to the point where their thoughtful human host unusually protective prisoner was considering going back to the Sacred Ma’all and obtaining them some “coats and hats and stuff”, to quote her specifically.

As a particularly nippy gust of winds arrives, lashing the tips of his ears as it dances through, he finds himself wishing desperately for these objects that he can not even properly picture.

Looking up at the sky, Leif can just make out the thin line of orange coating the horizon as the sun begins its lazy descent. Eyes narrowed, he decides to take a break. Plomping himself down on a nearby bench, he sighs, combing his fingers through his absolute mess of a mane. 

  “Ava promised.” He whispers, “She promised. They’ll be back. They have to come back.”

The city-dwelling regulars that skitter past him hardly spare a glance for the strange, mumbling man on the bench. It’s nothing they don’t already see on their daily commutes, and most would not blame them for their experienced silence. But Leif, who has no way of knowing what they know, takes their purposefully imposed ignorance as a personal offence. He feels segregated from their reality. Invisible.

Alone.

Leif hisses in a sharp breath as the word taunts him. Pressing his head into the palms of his hands, he represses a shudder. He should be used to this by now; being left to his own devices. How many times now has it been? How many betrayals and abandonments? Four? Five? More than one person should be able to count. He has been able to handle himself just fine before. So why now? Why now is he having such issues with finding his own way? He might call it ironic if he knew the meaning of the word.

  “It’s because you got used to the cushy life.” A small voice in the back on his thoughts croons, “You liked being chummy with the Prince and his guard dogs. You liked that there was always food at the ready, and that you never had to worry where you were sleeping next. You liked the stability. The safety. And in time, you even came to like the laziness that this new world allowed.”

  “That’s not true!” Leif barks back, not realizing how loud the proclamation was until several humans passing by wince and stumble as their paces quicken. He is sure to lower his voice as he continues to mumble to himself, “I can still take care of myself. I haven’t gone soft. I can do this.”

Taking in a long deep breath, he steels his will against the unpleasant thoughts racing around in his head. He bows his head and closes his eyes. When he opens them again a few ticks later, there’s a clear change. They’re collected. Focused.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I can do this.” He reassures himself, feeling some of that original vamped-up feeling return, “I’m a Daemos dammit! I don’t need some human to hold my hand! I’ll find my own way home! And then.-then I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them for leaving me!”

The mental pep talk does great things for Leif. Now enraged and brimming with confidence, breathing heavily and nearly quaking with the emotion of it all, he puts on a sneer and glares out into the crowd. His fingers flex as he summons forth his sickles, ready to swing them out at any unfortunate soul that crosses his path. He stands, his knuckles white around their hilts. The dying sunlight has no effect on him anymore. His goal is apparent in his mind. He is prepared. Determined. 

He takes one strong, bold step forward…

...and is subsequently swept off his feet by the force of a group of teens pushing past him.

Nearly losing his balance, Leif’s arms flail in an attempt to regain his balance, and he immediately bumps into a young couple. As they turn on him with vicious glares, he steps away from them. Disorientation takes this chance to rush through his system. As he fumbles about, one of his sickles manages to catch on the shirt of a small child toddling by with his mother. Leif jerks one direction while the boy jerks in the other. A shirt sleeve tears, and the little one goes sprawling to the ground. An ear-piercing shriek explodes from tiny lungs. All heads turn in their direction. Wide-eyed Leif throws away his weapons and presses his hands against his sensitive ears. While staggering away from all the attention, he runs into yet another man who- being caught completely off guard- falls back into someone behind him. As the domino effect continues, the noise and panic cause the poor Daemos to go into full flight mode. Gritting his teeth, he gathers just enough control to take a flying leap over the top of the completely bewildered mob. He lands back near the bench and grasps it tightly to keep himself from falling to his knees. As he takes a seat once more, the humans are all glancing around and shouting at each other in offense. The child continues crying.

Thoroughly defeated, Leif allows his head to fall back as he slumps down into the wooden comfort. Then, he lifts it back up only to cradle it in his hands. The unwelcome tears brought on by pure fear sting at the corners of his eyes. Releasing a shaky sigh, he finally gives into the thought that he has so far been refusing to voice. 

  “I’m doomed.”

***

Soaring high above the head of one particularly shaken Daemos, a careless pigeon makes its way around the festival with ease. Drifting aloof above the sea of hundreds of singing and laughing humans, it follows the breeze along the street and down towards one particular block, where a vendor has been handing out pretzels. And at this moment, it just so happens that a young woman, with flowing dark hair and vibrant pink eyes, has just dropped the remaining half of her salted treat on the ground. The pigeon is quick to join several of its other brethren in tearing at the free meal to pieces, completely unaware that shock is what delivered this wonderful treat to them. Although, they learn very soon after, as said young woman lets off a loud, horrified shout. Grey feathers go flying as the band disperses in a threatened rush. 

The group of men trailing behind the woman jerk in surprise.

  “Princess Ava? What’s wrong?” The youngest, a concerned looking redhead, calls out. 

Ava stares at her companions with a feverish look. Pointing at each of them individually, the others can hear her counting them, over and over again.

  “One, two, three, four...two, three, four...three, four, four, four! Why are there only four of you!” Her voice raises in both pitch and volume, “Where’s Leif?!”

Her words seem to settle with them all at the exact same time. The tallest of the bunch, Pierce, begins flickering his gaze from face to face, searching for the former-assassin in the horde of people around them. Rhys, Noi, and Asch all turn off in different directions, then come back and share a look. They all focus on Ava, who has turned to the ground with guilt-ridden eyes. 

  “How could I...he was just with us not too long ago, right? Right?” Her frantic question is only met with uncertain silence from her companions. Rhys goes as far as to look away, nibbling on his ice pop, “Oh God. We have to find him! Leif!”

Ava begins pushing her way through the crowd, crying out to her missing friend. The boys stick to her like frightened ducklings as they mimic her steps. Their screams rise above the swell of music and voices. 

  “Leif, where are you!”

***

As his friends begin their desperate hunt a few streets away, Leif finds himself aimlessly ambling along through the park. He has discovered that there are less people back within these tree-sheltered pathways and he is grateful for it. He is on the hunt for something, although if he were asked he would not be able to say exactly what. Shelter? Company perhaps? A sign pointing home would be nice, but he can’t really read all that well, and he doubts that there is one around regardless. For a natural-born hunter, he certainly does have an awful sense of direction.

His fingers tap against his thigh as he walks. On occasion, he mumbles curses at himself for getting stuck in this situation. The night sky is clear and bright, and more than once he finds himself staring up at it, feeling as though the stars are laughing at his plight. Gaining a little comfort in the embrace of the shadows, he sticks to them, glancing over every now and again to see a straggling human stroll by. He passes the fountain where he and Ava had encountered the threatening ‘clique’;passes a large stone statue of some long-dead human frozen in time; passes what looks to be a small garden area, where brightly colored flowers glow in the moonlight. 

Eventually, Leif reaches an area that he first assumes to be abandoned. The quiet and empty wrap around him like a blanket. His only company seems to be the soft glow from the scattered lampposts. The peace here cradles him in its arms and promises him safety. He’s almost relaxed, resigning to spend the night in whatever tree provides the most cover and warmth, when suddenly-

  “Heya there compadre.”

Leif startles back several feet and does a neat little twirl to face the direction of the slow and kindly voice that had called out to him. How he had missed the strange human before him in his first look around is beyond Leif, but he certainly sees the man now. He sits leaning against the nearest tree with an air of remiss and a smile on his face. Upon seeing Leif’s reaction to his greeting, he puts his hands up in reassurance

  “Hwoa there! Didn’t mean to startle ya friend. Just couldn’t help but notice that you were lookin’ a tad lost.” 

  “We’re not friends.” Leif interjects so instinctively that he nearly cuts the stranger off. Then, catching his own tongue before he says anything truly offensive, he reroutes with, “But...yeah, I am lost. I got seperated from my group a while ago and haven’t been able to find them since. And I’m not very familiar with your kingdom yet, so I can’t just go back home.”

Thanks to the poor lighting between them, the Daemos misses how the stranger’s eyebrows quirk a little at his self-correction (and yet not the use of ‘kingdom’?). But as he makes his way over to this new human, Leif does begin to take in the man’s overall messy and unkempt appearance. His long, auburn hair is wrapped up into an extremely makeshift ponytail, the length of which surpasses even that of Pierce’s or Ava’s. The many rebellious strands held back out of his face by a thick, green fabric headband that’s stretched across his forehead. It must have been made to match the long, tassled poncho that he wears, their colors the same. Beneath it, he only seems to have a miserably stained grey shirt, and pants so baggy that Leif can not imagine them being comfortable. His skin, which at first appeared to simply be naturally dark, is actually merely a deceptive tan which highlights every freckle, scar, and wrinkle. Leif is sure that if he were to touch the stranger, he might have an almost leathery feel to him. Teeth no whiter than a well-worn paperback fill in a broad smile that brings to life the creases around the edges of both the stanger’s lips and eyes. Eyes that are brown like a healthy farm soil, and seem to hold a level of spirit and life that Leif can never recall having seen in any other person before. It’s unfiltered blatancy is surprising to him.

  “Well ahh, what’cha waitin’ for?” The stranger suddenly picks up the conversation, scooching slightly to the right and patting the ground beside him, “Come’n take a seat. We can vibe while the universe carries the train of life down its long tracks.”

Leif hesitates. The human before him might be a stranger, but he emits an image that reminds the Daemos of the forest spirits that could be found back in his own world. The Earth seems comfortable around him. If one squinted, it would almost seem as though the tree’s trunk and roots had warped to form a throne around him.

  “He seems like a powerful sage. I should stay. Maybe he can help me.”

Nodding to himself more so than the man, Leif takes his place on the grass. This results in a wide, toothy grin on behalf of his companion, and being so close now, Leif is able to notice how one of his canines is missing.

  “Joyous day! You’ll be the first bit of company I’ve had in a long time my fellow wanderer. Say now, what’s your name?” 

  “They call me Leif.”

  “Leaf? The name of a freelancer. A young man born for travel and change. A soul that dances in the wind, its colors ever uncertain.” The man’s smile softens and his eyes stare off in Leif’s general direction, and yet seem to be staring at something miles away, “You and I, I’m sure we’re the same. I’ve had many a name myself, but most around here know me as Jingle. It’s a pleasure to meet’cha.”

Jingle holds out a hand and they shake. Leif has seen this done enough times on the tee-vee to be able to properly pull it off, even if he doesn’t quite understand the significance. Then, glancing over his shoulder, Jingle proceeds to reach back and pull, from behind the tree, a forgeign looking object. 

The thing is clearly made from some kind of light and polished earth wood. Its beige surface has been very delicately carved with a swirling, wave like pattern that decorated almost the entirety of its pear shaped body. A large round hole rests a little ways above the bottom. Stretched taut up its middle and along the long arm protruding from the top are six silver strings, wrapped at both ends around small metal nubs. At the head of the arm are six knobs all turned in various directions. None of the silver pieces shine, and in fact seem quite well worn. Nearly all of the impressive wood surface is riddled with scratches.

Jingle positions the thing against his chest. 

  “What is that?” Leif asks, eyeing it with unease.

  “This here is my trusty guitar Taylor. I know she isn’t much compared to those clunky metal demons they’re selling out there-” Here, he nods his head out in the direction of the still-ongoing festival, “-but she does me just fine. So long as I keep her pretty, she sings like an angel.”

  “It...sings?”

  “As sweet and humble a tune as you might ever hear. Here, have a listen.”

With his nimble fingers already poised to play, Jingle wastes no time in coaxing a tune out from the air. From the first pluck of a string, Leif finds himself utterly enraptured. Each swift movement of the human’s hand brings forth another new wave of sound so soft and breathtaking that the Daemos doesn’t even know how to process it. It is as if Jingle’s soul is completely in tune with the instrument in his grasp. Leif sits stunned, feeling the music tempt his very heart and bring prickles to his skin. A minute passes, and he soon finds himself lying completely relaxed against the tree trunk, eyes closed, and merely absorbing.

Jingle plays for some time, and for that time the two are in their own universe. It is very dark now, and Leif can feel his mind just starting to slip off in unconsciousness. His body is heavy. Connected to the very grass he sits upon by an unnamable force that he chooses to call exhaustion. When his company eventually brings the song to an end, it takes Leif a few moments to reconnect with reality. Green eyes blink several times, and turn to find that Jingle is already watching for his reaction.

  “That was amazing.” Leif breathes in as soft a tone as he’s capable of.

  “Jus’ like I told ya. Voice of an angel.” Jingle hums, parroting his earlier words. He shifts to place Taylor on the ground beside him. When he turns back, he finds Leif staring into the space above them with a small frown on his face, “My friend, what troubles you? The world weighs heavy on your shoulders tonight.”

  “I’m not sure. I just…” Leif trails off, searching within himself for an explanation for the crushing weight in his chest, “I think I miss my friends. I keep wanting them to be here, but they probably already left. I don’t think they’re coming back for me.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Jingle peers off down the park path. Leif clears his throat in a battle against the tight feeling that fills it. He jumps when a gentle hand lands on his shoulder. 

  “Lighten your soul wanderer Leif. Everyone leaves sooner or later, but just because they’ve left doesn’t mean they are gone. Pray tell, what doubts whisper in your ear tonight?”

  “Eh?”

  “Why do you assume so quickly that your friends won’t return to you?”

  “Oh. The way you talk is really weird, you know that?”

The human man only smiles at him, patience and expectancy in his eyes. He makes a light gesture with his hand, urging Leif to continue. And after several seconds, he does with a tamed sigh. 

  “I’ve had a lot of people tell me that I cause more trouble than I’m worth.” The simple admission seems to close a giant force around his ribs. As it squeezes painfully, he finds himself emptying more words than he ever knew he had been filling up with, “I know I tend to go overboard most of the time, but I never- no, I guess just lately- I mean, I haven’t been meaning to cause problems recently. Everything is just so...so calm here, and I don’t know how to live like that. Back on- I mean, back where I’m from, peace and quiet always meant something was wrong, and we hardly go anywhere or do anything, and I just get so bored! I hate just sitting around and doing nothing, but it seems like that’s all the others want to do anymore. And I know I could probably just go out for a while on my own and burn some energy but your world is so big and I just...I don’t want to end up on my own again.”

He gives a forced and pitiful huff of laughter.

  “Although I guess it’s too late for that now. I’m sure they probably already went home and forgot about me. They’re probably relieved to get rid of me.”

Leif hadn’t meant to let that flooding fear leak into his words. Or that harsh scratchiness of his throat, which left breaks in his sentences. The uncomfortable rhythm of his heart and the mild shaking must be showing through as well now. It makes no sense to him. He’s only felt this terrified once before- the day they had lost Ava at the Fall Festival. And although the circumstances now are similar, he can not imagine what it is about this strange human that seems to make those insecurities rise up in ten-folds. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the others with him now. Maybe it’s because he really has no idea where to go from here.

The panic had set on him so fast the Leif didn’t properly notice it until it was being chased away by the strong and defendant strums of a guitar. The first twang brought him to a jerking halt at first. But as the singing notes continued, his mind returned to the harmless reality. He came back to find himself looking at the stars. 

Jingle- as if noticing Leif’s inner plight- had picked up Taylor once again.

  “It is not so easy to forget one’s friends.” He murmurs as he plays, “Do not so swiftly dismiss your own worth my snowy-haired partner. If the universe truly believes you were meant to be with these people you seek, then it will surely guide them back to you. And it sounds to me that affection has already been allowed to roost deep in your soul.”

The younger has nothing to say to that. He only closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and nods. Drawing his knees to his chest, he crosses his arms and lies down his head. All these new emotions are exhausting.

***

Ava slumps down against the frigid stone of the fountain, pulling her knees up and hiding her face in them. 

  “I can’t believe this.” The muffled moan that escapes her is full of pain, “How could I lose him? What kind of friend am I? God, he probably thinks we abandoned him.”

  “I don’t get what you’re so worried about.” Asch harrumphs, doing a single lap around the structure before taking a seat on its edge, “We haven’t encountered anything dangerous since we’ve been here on Earth. Leif can take care of himself for one night. Why can’t we just go home? It’s cold out here and I’m tired!”

Despite his childish whining, he at least has the decency to look sheepish when she turns to glare at him.

  “Well if that’s the case Asch, why don’t we just leave you out here tonight? You’re always going on about how you’re so much better than Leif anyways, so if he can make it out here on his own, then clearly you can too.” During her short reprimand, Ava stands and crosses the few steps between them. Her eyes hold a level of rage that the Daemos can never recall having seen on her before. And despite the fact that he could easily beat her in a confrontation- physical or verbal- he feels himself shrinking in shame before her petite frame.

With a satisfied huff, Ava walks several paces away. In the short time it takes her to regain her composure, her anger morphs instantly into guilt. Her posture slumps as she glances back at Asch, whose hurt expression is turned towards the concrete.

  “I’m...I’m sorry Asch.” She sighs, “I didn’t mean that.”

  “I know.” Comes the humbled response from behind her.

  “I’m just really worried about him.”

  “I know.”

The next few minutes are shared in silence. The other three Daemos choose not to express a word on the exchange just yet, only shuffling about in their own thoughts. There is a level of complete loss between them. No one wants to leave Leif behind-- but Asch isn’t the only one whose focus and determination is beginning to wane.

A particularly nippy breeze blows through, causing Ava’s already shaking body to jitter violently. In a second Pierce seems to simply materialize beside her and pull her sniffling form into a warming embrace. 

  “Perhaps Prince Asch is right. We should go for now.” He suggests quietly as she leans into him.

  “But Leif-”

  “-Will be easier to find tomorrow when it is light out.” Rhys jumps in, “We are all concerned Princess Ava, but Asch does have a point. It is unlikely that Leif has found himself in any sort of real danger, and even if he has, he is a trained warrior. None of us are suggesting we abandon our search completely, but we are all at our limits. Even if we were to find Leif tonight, at this rate we may all end up sick by the morning. Please, we will follow you no matter your choice, but think reasonably.”

There’s a gentle hint of pleading in his voice that prevents Ava from denying his claims outright. She looks between all of them in turn, searching desperately for some counterargument that never comes to rise. It doesn’t take long before she finally lets herself really take in the heaviness of her own body; the stinging left in her feet from walking for so long; the need to close her eyes and rest that is becoming harder and harder to fight away. The boys watch with patience as her mind wears itself down, and they don’t miss the surrender that wins over her stature. There’s a quiet breath, then:

  “...fine. Let’s just go home.”

Dear reader, have you ever managed to convince someone you love to do something they don’t want to, only to be hit with a horrible wave of guilt when they give in and agree to go through with it? Have you ever wished you could travel back in time just a few minutes, if only to stop yourself from being so damn persistent? If so, then maybe you can imagine how the Daemos boys feel at this point in time. The deep disappointment they observe in Ava’s eyes as she pulls herself from Pierce’s arms is enough to make their very souls wince. Three sets of eyes meet as their minds change almost unanimously, and Rhys can tell the other two are waiting for him to come up with some sort of clever escape. And being the man he is, he complies.

  “Well, ah-just a moment Princess Ava. We...we haven’t heard from Noi yet! A decision such as this should be agreed upon by everyone present, yes? And perhaps if he believes we should stay out. Noi?”

Rhys shifts, hoping to prompt Noi into insisting that they stay. But the younger Daemos- who has been noticeably absent from the entire conversation- doesn’t appear to have even noticed his name being called. In fact, he likely missed the discussion as a whole, seeing as how he stares off down one of the darkness-swallowed paths with fully focused attention. His amber eyes sparkle with wonder. In listening closely, one may have heard him humming.

Debate temporarily forgotten, Ava and the rest focus on him with quirked eyebrows and tilted heads. 

  “Uhh...Noi?” Asch beacons tentatively.

  “Do you hear it?” Noi whispers in response, to all of them and yet no one in particular.

  “Hear what?” Ava asks, frowning, “I don’t hear anything.”

Pierce steps forward and rests his chin atop her head.

  “I hear it.”

  “Me too.” Asch adds after a moment.

  “Me as well.”

  “Wait, seriously, what are you guys hearing? It’s just quiet for me.”

  “It’s music.” Rhys says, “Different from what the humans at the festival were playing. It’s quieter.”

  “Softer.” Pierce adds, and the scholar nods.

  “Earlier there were voices too.” Noi finishes. 

  “Wait, voices? But who else would be out this la-” Ava’s eyes spark up wide. Before the guys can even hit the same realization she has, she’s already gone; taking off with flying feet and a new swarm of adrenaline buzzing through her veins. “LEIF!”

  “Princess Ava!” A chorus of Daemos voices rise up through the night, and they sprint, one after the other, along her trail. Her voice bounces off the surveying trees.

  “Leif!”

***

  “Leif!” 

Two men sitting beneath a canvas on moonlit leaves jerk their heads up in unison. The elder lowers his guitar and puts on a muted, knowing smile. The younger goes tense as he strains his ears for the echoes of the voice that had rushed at them in the night. His green eyes go wide as can be, quite literally glowing with hope. He places one, prepared hand on the ground…

  “Leif!”

Springing to his feet faster than should be natural, he runs only a few paces forward. 

  “Ava?” He breathes. The sound of rushing feet pouding closer out of the darkness causes him to gasp and with the new air in his lungs he shouts out, “Ava! Ava, I’m here!”

Leif steps into the light just as his human friend barges into its threshold. He’s tossed off his already imbalanced feet as she tumbles with a football-tackle force into him. They go down together onto the rocky ground. Ava clings desperately to his shirt, as if afraid he will vanish into thin air at the impact. Before either have fully taken to their jarring landing, he finds her burying her face into his neck, sobbing almost hysterically with relief. Her sporadic hiccups seem to be contagious, and for the first time since quite possibly his toddler days, he finds himself holding onto another person like a lifeline and shedding tears that he hardly cares if others see. 

  “I’m so sorry.” Ava manages through uncontrollable gasps, “I’m so, so sorry Leif.-”

  “It wasn’t your fault, I’m-”

  “-I didn’t mean to leave you. I just turned around and you were gone and-”

  “-the one who walked off. I’m an idiot for thinking-”

  “-we looked everywhere for you! We almost went home-

  “-I got so lost without you-”

  “-I didn’t want to, but Noi heard you and I’m just-”

  “-I’m just-”

  “-So happy you’re back.”

The unorganized scrambling over each other’s apologies ends with synchronization. Still sniffling, Ava lifts her head from his shoulder and meets his gaze. There’s a pause. Then broad, toothy smiles replace quivering frowns, and their foreheads press together as they share a laugh. 

It’s around this time that the other four Daemos reach their position, only to find their newly reunited friends on the ground, trying to hold back bursts of giggles. The picture absolutely throws them. More so because of Leif’s bubbly demeanor than Ava’s, though both are certainly a sight to behold-- with tousled hair and dusty clothes, goosebump rippled skin now detailed with red marks where they had slid against the concrete. And yet the two grin and carry on in that way that can only be done after one’s stress-forced sense has left them, their cares evaporating into thin air. Earth truly must be turning them soft, because the once strict and stone-cold warriors- upon surveying the scene- give genuine smiles of their own.

It takes a little bit of time before the pair actually settle down enough to sort themselves out and stand once again. Even then, Ava makes sure to link her arm with his, swearing inwardly to never let him out of her sights again. Leif on the other hand, does his best to recollect himself, not wanting to give the others any more reason to pester him later about the blatant displays of emotion. He hides his flushed face in his sleeve, pretending to wipe a smear of dirt off his face.

  ‘It’s nice to see you again.” Rhys says with only a hint of scolding behind his words, “Though if you ever run off like that again, you’re finding your own way home.”

  “That’s fair.” Leif replies with a shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t miss how Ava studies his reaction from the corner of her eye.

  “Did you miiiss us?” Asch drawls mockingly, stepping forward with a smirk on his face. Despite the remark, he gives Leif a friendly knock on the shoulder- a habit he’d unknowingly picked up a few weeks ago.

Leif only scoffs, but it tells them all they really need to know. He looks downwards briefly and mumbles something that only the young Prince seems able to hear. Asch blinks in recoil, then replaces his cheeky grin.

  “What was that?” He asks incentively, “I don’t think we all heard you.”

Leif growls a low growl.

  “I said-ugh-thanks for...looking for me.” Then, adding on more softly, “It’s nice to know you guys actually cared enough to find me.”

  “Well duh.” Ava’s response causes him to lift his head in her direction, “I made you a promise didn’t I?”

His mind flashes back to that day they were shopping for decorations. He’d almost convinced himself it was a dream.

  “Yeah. I guess you did.”

  “Besides-!” Suddenly, Noi appears in front of him, beaming in the friendly boyish way that used to get him mocked back on Daemos, “You’re one of us! No man left behind, right?”

  “I-”

  “Exactly.” Rhys cuts him off in affirmation, “Despite your chaotic personality and violent tendencies, you are still an important part of our group.”

  “You-”

  “Yeah.” Asch sighs, carefully selecting his next few words, “I’m not sure where we’d be without our healer honestly. And...I will admit that you’re the only one here who’s any fun to spar with.”

  “Yes.” Finally, Pierce, “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

As Leif gapes at all of his friends in turn, something new solidifies within him. See, when Asch had saved him from execution all those years ago, the Prince had earned his life. And with that, over time, there came undying loyalty. But it was always saved for Asch alone. The others had been tolerable companions at most, at least until they got to Earth. 

Then came along Ava, who unintentionally became their focal point. She was important to him- to all of them. But he wouldn’t have died for her. Not at the start. That problem arose when she became fond of them, and they- in turn- of her. It only took a couple weeks after Leif had admitted to himself that she was actually rather preferable company, that he seemed to swear away to her the same things he had gifted Asch. His life. His loyalty. Fresh off the line went his affection as well. And although at this point, he was close to the other Daemos, he still felt separate. A product of his own mind and the upbringing that was so very different from their own.

It’s taken until now for that last link to click into place. That camaraderie which he’d been lacking now swarms through his morals and rearranges itself among those mental pieces. He feels some of his outlooks shifting. Most importantly, a single, powerful thought plants itself in his mind and takes root.

  “They want me.”

His chest swelling, the most Leif can manage is, “Thank you.”

The sound of quiet shuffling a few feet away accidentally breaks through the touching moment. The emotional bunch all turn their attention to a man standing like a startled cat beneath a nearby tree. Clearly, he had meant to scuttle away unnoticed.

  “Who is he?” Noi asks.

  “Oh that’s  Jingle.” Leif tips his head in the direction of the musical man, who has gathered his meager belongings in his arms. At the mention of his name, he winces slightly and gives a wave, “He’s been letting me sit with him. He's pretty cool for a human. The way he talks is weird though.”

Now, Ava, the Earth and city specialist of the group, immediately recognizes Leif’s apparent companion as a member of a nomadic homeless community that had just taken its annual place in one of the far back corners of the park. She’d never spoken to the man in true conversation, but she can recall exchanging a few words with him last year after she’d heard him playing the exact same guitar he now cradles to his chest. He had an impressive talent that convinced her to deliver him several dollar bills and whatever meager change she managed to hold onto after her sparse commutes to the mall or grocery store. She can vouch for the fact that he does say some fairly strange things on occasion. However…

  “Hey, you’re that chill guitar man I met last year.” She says, hoping to spark some comfort in his cautious air, “Have you really been hanging out with Leif this whole time?”

Jingle nods, shifting into a more permanent stance.

  “You didn’t have to do that. But I’m thankful that you did.” She smiles warmly, “Honestly, I was worried he might have gotten himself into trouble.”

  “It was no problem young miss.” Jingle makes the effort to reply, “I’d seen you all together early in the day, and happened to catch my fellow wanderer out on his own. He looked like he could use someone to hold him steady until his world righted itself again.”

  “Ah...yeah. I don’t doubt that he did.” Digging into her pockets, Ava pulls out five dollars- the sole remnants of cash that was pretty much all spent on food, “Here, please take this. It isn’t nearly as much as you deserve, but it’s all I have.”

The older human steps forward to accept the money from her outstretched hand with a grateful expression. Immediately after pocketing it, he spins back around in the other direction and walks away into the night. Ava silently determines to continue her tradition from before if she can manage to find him again in the coming weeks. But before any of that-

  “Come on you guys. Let’s get home.”

[umihoshi-art]

Urges (Fugo x Narancia)

Perhaps Fugo had known it all along. The moment he had seen this boy rummage around in a garbage can, it had pulled all his heart-strings. And it only went down hill after. In the way how the boy exceptionally loved pizza and orange juice. How he couldn't sit still when hearing music. How he couldn't sit still to start with. His complete incapability to solve simple math problems. His wide grin and boisterous laughter. Narancia was the biggest dumbass he had ever met. He wanted to punch him so bad. Every fiber in Fugo's body was practically screaming when Narancia so much as moved.

He couldn't keep his eyes off of him.

And that was what absolutely terrified Fugo. He knew himself, he knew that with one wrong comment, he'd absolutely butcher the other teen. He had kept this feeling with him for months now, just like how he had wanted to take the urge of stabbing his parents to his grave. But this was different from the feeling he had at that time. He couldn't place it. But it felt.... Good. Trusted. Comfortable. And oh so alarming. And because he hadn't told anyone about these feelings, not even Buccarati, he now found himself alone with said alarming person.

“boooooored...” Narancia moaned loud and obnoxious. It was raining outside and they were sitting house while Bucciarati, Abbachio and Mista were out on mafia business. In all honesty, the rain wouldn't have stopped Fugo from leaving post-haste, but Buccarati had asked him to keep an eye on Narancia, who was shot in the leg before. By the sound of it, the other boy was doing just fine, though. Fugo had retreated on the couch with a book. He lay slummed against the armrest, his long legs sprawled over the seat, giving off a big 'don't talk to me' aura that he had recently learned from Abbachio. But Narancia, being an absolute star in reading the mood, hated being ignored more then anything. “Fugo, I'm bored! Let's play a game or something?” he hung over the back of the couch, close to Fugo's face. Fugo clicked his tongue and moved his head aside to stay clear of staring at Narancia's disarming face. He pointed. “There's cards, go play Sollitaire. It'll teach you independence.” Narancia grunted annoyed. “you're in a bad mood, no fun.” And it looked like that was the end of the discussion, as Narancia backed away. “c'mon, I'm sick of sitting around all day. Let's go get pizza? It's just some rain and my leg's fine.” the boy moved around the couch and did something that made Fugo freeze over completely: Narancia sat on top of Fugo's hips, leaning over, trying to get his attention. “what.....are you doing?” Fugo heard himself say without breath. The letters in the book were dancing in front of his eyes. His knuckles turned white. This was bad.... “Own fault for hogging the couch~ I'll only make myself heavier if you're gonna be a wet sock.” Fugo didn't reply right away. He barely moved. All he could think about was.... the time this had happened before. “Get off...” he spoke darkly. But Narancia didn't get the message. “Feeling like doing something yet?” in the spirit of 'making himself heavy', he hopped his hips up and crashed them down on Fugo's. It took every ounce of self-control for Fugo to keep his retort at only grabbing Narancia by the throat and giving a good squeeze. “Get. Off. Now!” he was panting heavy. Gritting his teeth, his eyes unfocused, his hand was sweaty and shaking. Even Narancia noticed this was worse then Fugo's usual fits of rage. He replied more docile: “o-okay, okay... geez...” and got off him slowly, to not make any sudden movements. Both were silent for a good few minutes. “Sorry....” Narancia muttered in the end. Fugo swallowed, not looking at him. Still shaken, he got up. “Gotta shower...” “huh? You showered this morning..” Fugo ignored the other and paced over to the bathroom.

This was exactly the problem. If it had been anyone but Narancia, Fugo was sure it wouldn't have triggered anything.... probably... Then again, in their small company only Narancia would be enough of a clueless dumbass to sit on top of another guy. Taking a shower, he made sure to clean himself vigorously, until he finally managed to stop panting. In the process, the mirror received a good 3 punches and was broken beyond use. Fugo looked down at his hands. 'Disgusting....' he thought to himself. His mind was in turmoil. Because even if he tried to push it away with all his rage: it had felt good. He had wanted Narancia to stay. No... even, get closer. And a most disturbing thought haunted Fugo: It's happening again.

Fugo had never talked about what had happened in school to anyone, except for Bucciarati. He doubted if any of them would really understand it. It had never been about him beating up the teacher. It was more complicated then that. 'Justified self-defense' is what his parents had bribed the court into concluding. And so there never really was any examination of the case. Fugo hadn't been able to find closure of his feelings. And so he made a conclusion many abused youths would pull: 'It was my own fault...'

He finished up in the bathroom after just a little under 2 hours. But when he returned, Narancia still had visible marks on his throat. He was sitting on the ground, against the couch and was hugging his knees. His eyes looked rather misty. Fugo felt a flush of guilt and gulped. “I.....sorry, Narancia. I went too far.” Narancia looked up with a jolt. Fugo would have preferred him to look angry, or even scared. But the look on Narancia's face was filled with worry. He got up. “What are you apologizing for?? I'm the one who's sorry! What the hell happened? Did I do something bad?? Did I mess up?” Fugo felt his chest tighten and looked off. “it's... nothing, never mind it. Just don't do it again.” “Don't be like that! I won't understand if you won't tell me!” Narancia paced over, that worried look didn't leave his face. It really troubled Fugo to see that face from up closer, only increasing his violent urges again. He turned away. “Forget about it! I'm not mad at you, so don't bother.” “FUGO!!” Narancia clung his hands in the back of Fugo's jacket. He sounded beyond worry: he was desperate. His voice was pitched and shallow. “Please.... don't shut me out? Not you..... Slap me or punch me or choke me, that's all fine. Just, don't brush me off? Please? You always confront me, you look straight at me and you face me head on... that means a lot to me. I like that about you. A lot. So don't-.... don't act like I didn't hurt you when I did! I'd rather have you tell me to my face and give me a good punch to get it over with, then to hide it!”

It was happening. It was too late. Fugo's mind would go pitch black. If he'd come to, would he find Narancia's bloody corpse beneath him? But he felt strangely light. As if a weight had been lifted. As if he had crossed a line he had been so afraid of crossing. But now that it was crossed, there's no more point in fearing it. Fugo's mind was clear. And he knew exactly what he was doing. He stretched his hand out to Narancia, holding his face. And what he had been sure would have resulted in him beating the boy's lights out was anything but that: Fugo crushed his lips against Narancia's. It felt like the most natural thing he had ever done. It was vivid and mindblowing. The boy's lips were slightly rough and dry. There was a faint taste of the strawberry he had nicked from Mista some time ago. And it felt like they could bruise from the sudden impact. It were the longest 2 seconds in Fugo's life before his mind caught up with his body and he backed away, realizing what he had done. Both stared at each other, perplexed. Fugo covered his mouth with the back of his hand in disbelieve. And the most disturbing thought crept on him: 'Oh god. I forced myself on him.'

Fugo looked absolutely mortified. Narancia felt another large pang of worry, but... processing what had happened and how it had led to this, his face flushed and he laughed a bit. “oh-... was that.. why you were uncomfortable, huh? Pft.. Okay, that makes sense~” “I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--” “wow, wow! What are you apologizing about now? I'm not mad!” But Fugo stepped back, lost in his own mind. Thinking fast, Narancia grabbed hold of his arms and kissed him back. Faster and more clumsy, but sincere. “There! Now we're even, right?” It calmed Fugo down slightly and he looked back at the other, remorsefully and unsure of himself. “It's okay. Don't worry.” Narancia tried to reassure him, but he had completely lost what could possible be going through Fugo's head. Narancia took a deep breath. He wasn't exactly used to being the responsible one with the braincell. “Let's sit down? Okay?” he took Fugo's hand and took him along to the couch. Fugo followed reluctant, absentmindedly staring at their linked hands. As they sat, Fugo hesitated: “I.... I don't want to shut you out...just, I.... don't know where to start. It's embarrassing and pathetic.” Brushing off the immediate link of kissing him equals embarrassing and pathetic, Narancia shrugged. “Let's face it. You and I both know I'm not the smartest. You've gotta help me out here.” Fugo showed a rare slight smile. Then took a deep breath. “There..... used to be a person I looked up to.” he spoke, but his voice sounded uncomfortable. “He... well... did something similar...” Narancia blinked a few times, trying to figure what the other meant. “What happened to him?” “I killed him.” Fugo stated, surprisingly matter-of-factly. “Okay, rewind that for a bit. How? Why?” “You know how I get violent, right?” “Yeah, but never without a reason!” Fugo frowned for a moment. He wasn't quite sure if he was worth of that trust. Narancia hadn't worded it as being a 'good' reason. That would have just sounded fake. But...... Fugo refused to believe it. He knew himself. He knew what he did. And he knew what he's capable of... He sighed, trying to brush off how heavy the topic actually was to him. “He came on to me.” He didn't look Narancia in the eyes. “So, considering I just came on to you, I felt bad and apologized. The end.” Against popular believe, Narancia wasn't entirely stupid, though: “But you were already acting off before you did that.” Fugo took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There was no way out of it now, huh? Perhaps..... he should put Narancia to the test. Despite himself, he felt a slight shimmer of fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, someone would understand. But he also braced himself for that hope to be disappointed. That was alright. Nothing would change. “a teacher at my school... he invited me over and-” his words stocked, trying to find the right way to describe it enough to make Narancia understand, but not to make it more dramatic and have Narancia throw pity at him. “-and approached me.” Narancia's face told him that wasn't going to cut it. “....sexually.” the other boy frowned, only producing a soft. “Oh....” Fugo quickly continued. “After that, he came to me again, suggesting we'd do the same thing. And then I beat him to death.” Fugo had rehearsed the reply people would give him in his mind over and over. 'it's not your fault, it was self-defense, you're the victim'. And maybe there had been a slight chance he would have believed that, if it hadn't been the exact arguments the court had been bribed in.... and.... “But..then why-...” Narancia's mind was racing, like there was something he couldn't quite lay his finger on. Fugo waited, patiently. But Narancia's conclusion startled him: “Holding yourself back...” it dawned on Narancia. “You were holding yourself back from killing him for all that time.” Fugo's shoulders sank. Yes.... that's what was eating away at him. If it really was something he didn't want, why did he let it happen? If he was going to kill him, why didn't he do so right away? He remembered the malicious whispers of his peers, saying he had been the one who was close to the teacher, he had been the one to seduce him, he had used the teacher to get good grades. And he believed them.... “That's right. I let it happen. I allowed him to do it, even though I could have stopped him.” Narancia stared intensely at Fugo. There was no judgment on his face. No pity. No disbelieve. Fugo had trouble reading that expression and so he continued: “And yet I mindlessly killed him. Just like I planned to mindlessly kill my parents, many times. You see? I don't actually need a reason. It might actually be that the people I care about have the highest risk.” Narancia grabbed a hold of Fugo's both cheeks, moving his own head back for momentum and headbutted the other as hard as he could. “YOU ABSOLUTE BRAIN FART! Isn't it obvious???” Narancia raged, trying his hardest not to wince at his own dumb action. “Auw, what was that about, you brat?!” Fugo took a hold of the back of Narancia's hair, just about ready to repeat the same dumb action. But Narancia yelled in his face before he could. “It's because you're A NICE PERSON!! no one in their right mind can just kill another person so easily! You held yourself back, cuz you're gentle! You're a better person than that piece of shit deserved you to be! What's wrong with that?!! You didn't want to hurt anyone and he used that against you!!” Tears started streaming down Narancia's face. Angry. Frustrated. But also a sense of adoration for the other. “Don't be a dickhead, saying you don't need a reason! You had it pent up more and more, over and over, until you couldn't take it anymore! Even when they took a running leap across the line. Damnit all, if that guy wouldn't be dead, I'd go out there and hunt him right now!” Fugo stared at him for a while, losing the girp on the other's hair. He sighed in slight defeat. Narancia's thinking was so simpleminded. But... he did feel better. It might still take some time for himself to believe it... but it was comforting to know that someone else believed in him.

“But! But that was that and this is this!” Narancia continued. “hm?” Fugo blinked, not quite following. “You said you were coming on to me. And I made it even.” Fugo looked off and nodded a bit. “You also said you were sorry about it. You dun want to?” “That's not it! I just-” Narancia grinned. “...so you want to~?” “.....” Fugo's stomach stirred from the coy look Narancia gave him. He was slowly starting to differentiate the urge of punching someone from this urge of kissing the other. “Yeah...” he admitted and leaned in slowly. “If you're still bored, I know something.”

[vs-redemption]

Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch 12)

Chapter Twelve: Lab Work (HawksxGN!Reader)

Plot summary: You thought your hands were full as a regular quirk geneticist, but then you meet Hawks and things get even more exciting!

Warnings:

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide

“Thanks for coming out to meet with me again,” Dr. Garaki smiles pleasantly at you as you take a seat across from him in his office. His chair was much taller than yours to make up for his short stature. The expensive microscope and box of blood samples from your previous visit were nowhere in sight. The only thing on top of the desk was a copy of the proposal you had emailed him a few days before. The doctor puts a hand on top of the papers. “I’d like to talk about this.” You nod your head, trying to read the man’s face to predict how the conversation might go. You had to be ready for anything.

“I’ve never read a proposal quite like this before,” Dr. Garaki taps a finger on top of the document. “You made a lot of bold assumptions.”

You keep a look of confidence on your face as you reply. He still hadn’t made any indication about how he felt about the wild hypotheses you’d written for him. He just had the same cheerful smile on his face. "What you showed me the last time I was here was several steps ahead of any of the current research I could find,” you explain calmly. “Without knowing what was in that mystery fluid you used, I had to fill in some blanks.”

The doctor stayed silent for a moment and you hoped that he wasn’t about to throw you out for ignoring basic scientific standards and stepping into the realm of mad science. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever submit such an absurd proposal, but Dr. Garaki seemed like an odd enough man to actually appreciate it.

“You believe I have access to samples of All For One’s DNA.” The doctor finally speaks.

“No,” you still manage to keep your voice level. “Well, I honestly don’t know. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while. All For One is the only true example of a person possessing multiple quirks. Because of that, it stands to reason that his ability to give and receive quirks, and therefore his actual DNA, could be the key to creating Nomus.”

The doctor continues to stare you down. “And if I DID have access to All For One’s DNA, you think the next logical step…”

“…is to try and create a Nomu ourselves, yes.” You finish the sentence for him, praying that it would make the statement sound less insane if you were the one to say it. The doctor raises his eyebrows, the unreadable smile still on his face.

“I obviously made a lot of assumptions about how to accomplish that task too. Plus, it would definitely be unethical to do human trials,” you press on. “But besides the most recent attack in Kyushu, the Nomus themselves hardly seem human anyway. Perhaps the human component is small enough that simply using All For One’s quirk to splice human DNA samples together is enough. We would just need to create some sort of vessel to hold all that power”

“And the applications for such research?” The doctor continues to question you even though you must sound like you’re out of your mind by now.

“Limitless,” you declare. “If we can understand the way in which quirks mutate or combine over time, we can eliminate the weaknesses and drawbacks of certain quirks. Take the number one hero for example. Endeavor’s body clearly has a heat threshold. I noticed it in his fight with that high-end Nomu. He’d be unstoppable if he also had a quirk of heat-resistance or something. And the way things are going now, quirks are getting stronger and more complicated. The number of people born with quirks that cause damage to their body or affect their quality of life is increasing. We could solve that problem completely if we understood quirk inheritance on a microscopic level.”

“You sound like a true advocate of science,” the doctor nods. “Some people might question the morality of genetically modifying, enhancing, or manipulating quirks though.”

“I’m just saying what would be possible,” you shrug, “What people are able to legally do with that information would be up for debate when the time comes, but that’s nothing new in the field of science”

“True, true!” The doctor nods his head in agreement. “And like you mentioned, there are a lot of assumptions we need to address before actually going through with a proposal like this.” He slaps his hand on top of the document again before hopping out of his chair. “I’ve been thinking of how we can utilize YOUR quirk in my lab,” he beckons for you to get up and follow him. “I understand you can observe information about your surroundings in extreme detail.”

“Yeah,” you confirm the information while following him out of his office and through the halls of his hospital. He stops at what appears to be a supply closet and unlocks the door with a key he pulls from his pocket. You were surprised to see the small room contained a hidden elevator.

“This is for employees only,” the doctor explains once you’re both inside. He pushes the single unmarked button and the doors slide close. You assumed the elevator went down because when the doors opened back up, you were in a dimly lit basement laboratory. It was set up like most of the other labs you’d been in before, but there was just something a little creepier about it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Nobody else is down here?” You ask as you continue to look around.

“This is actually a secondary lab,” Dr. Garaki tells you. “My main lab is in a different location.” The strangeness of the situation continued to build, but you kept your feelings to yourself. There’d been something off about the doctor since the first time you’d met him, and now you were committed to figuring out what it was.

“I don’t mind using my quirk,” you tell him, “but the length of time I’m able to use it is pretty limited.”

“Limitations can be overcome,” the doctor chuckles before hurrying over to one of the work stations where a microscope was set up next to a giant monitor. “A lot of people don’t realize their quirks can work harder and longer with a certain type of fuel to keep them going.”

“What like Popeye and his spinach?” you joke.

“Exactly like that!” the doctor nods enthusiastically, his large glasses making his eyes look bigger than they actually are. “If we monitor your brain activity while you use your quirk, and take blood samples before and after, we could learn a lot. You should also try to use your quirk every day. Make a note if there’s a difference when you use your quirk in the morning or in the evening, or if anything changes depending on what you eat or the type of weather.” You can’t help but laugh.

“You actually want me to do that?” you ask.

“Just a suggestion,” he shrugs. “I would like to try a couple things today though, if you’re up to it.”

“Depends on the couple things, I guess,” you say hesitantly. He explained that he wanted you to use your quirk to watch videos on one of the computer monitors in one minute intervals. Each minute long session would be under a different condition and there would be a short test between each condition to record how much information you’d observed with your quirk. As your quirk only lasted about 5 minutes, he decided to do four tests in order to have the best results. The first test would be the control. The second test would be taken with noise canceling headphones in order to see if the number of visual details increased if sound was taken away. The third test would be taken while standing between two heaters to see if temperature made a difference. The fourth test would be taken while jogging on a treadmill to see if physical exertion effected the results. The doctor sat you in a chair in front of the monitor for the first test and pressed play. Next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by the doctor. You open your eyes and realize that you’re on the ground.

“Oh thank goodness! You’re awake!” The doctor sighs in relief. “You must’ve overexerted yourself. You had a dizzy spell and passed out after the last test.” You blink a few times and glance around the lab, trying to remember what happened, but of course you couldn’t. You’d just lost consciousness after using your quirk, so all the information you’d gathered had been wiped from your mind. You’d always been a bit apprehensive of the doctor, but now you were honestly feeling scared. Never in your life had something like this happened, so why would it happen now?

“Are you feeling better now?” the doctor asks, “Can you stand up?” You take a deep breath and nod your head. You felt perfectly fine aside from the memory loss which you were used to.

“Well, I guess I hit my limit for today,” you laugh even though you were still creeped out. “Was there at least any interesting results from the tests?”

“You observed a lot more than I imagined!” The doctor nods his head enthusiastically. “Although the amount of information you recalled from each test was about the same.”

“Would you mind if I look at the notes?” you ask as casually as you can. The doctor frowns.

“Unfortunately I didn’t take notes,” he tells you. “I used a timer to record how long it took you to describe everything you observed.”

“I see,” you say calmly before shrugging. “Oh well. Was there anything else you wanted to do with me today?”

“No, no!” The doctor waves his hands, “Of course not. You should get some rest. Are you going to be all right getting all the way home? Perhaps one of the doctors upstairs can take a look at you.”

“That’s okay,” you smile appreciatively. “I’m actually staying at a friend’s place in the city today. I can rest there and go home in the morning.” The doctor nods in understanding as you both head to the elevator and go back up to the main hospital. He walks you to the door and waves goodbye, promising to keep in touch so that you can make plans to meet again soon. As soon as you’re outside, you reach into your bag to get your phone only to find that it wasn’t in the pocket you normally kept it in. Where you just being paranoid now? You open up your messages and type one to Hawks that asked “Where are you?” Once he answers, you hail a taxi, not caring that a bus or train would be cheaper. You wanted to get to your boyfriend as fast as possible.

[lils-of-the-valley]

Summer Time (Family) Madness

What’s up! I finally wrote something and didn’t post it at 1 am! That doesn’t mean I proofread it though (RIP I'm so tired I posted it to the wrong blog so I had to redo it)

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AO3

Apologizing to Emily was a lot harder than Langa had anticipated. He knew he could be stubborn, but Emily was worse. She did everything in her power to avoid him: locking herself in Nanako’s room as soon as he left his, turning away from him if she had the misfortune of being in the living room when he got back from work or the skatepark, eating at a different time from Langa and his mother. No matter what Langa tried, she refused to acknowledge him. He didn’t exist anymore to her.

And Langa had tried reaching out to her, both physically and metaphorically. He had tried grabbing her arm, forcing her to acknowledge him, but he was just shaken off the same way he had shaken her off three days prior. He had tried being gentler, calling her name the few times he did see her leave the room to get food, but he had been ignored. Langa had even tried texting her an apology, but the text had never been opened, the little checkmark never appearing next to his text. Emily was rightfully pissed, Langa understood that, but after 72 hours, he was starting to get annoyed again. She could have at least given him a chance! It had been three days, for crying out loud!

“Seem familiar?” Nanako asked over her cup of tea. Langa didn’t miss the amused smile on his mother’s face or the way her brown eyes were staring straight through him. Recently, she was really starting to pick up on whatever Langa was feeling, which he wasn’t sure if he was grateful for or absolutely mortified about.

“I-!” Langa bit the inside of his cheek as he pushed his pancake around his plate. “Okay, fair.”

“Look, I talked to Emily this morning. She’s still pretty mad at you for snapping at her and refusing to tell her why, but she seems ready to talk about it. It wasn’t my place to explain your actions, but I did encourage her to give you a chance to apologize. Which,” Langa shrunk in his seat the way his mother was looking at him, “I really shouldn’t have had to do, Langa. You’re an adult now; you shouldn’t need to have your mother fixing your problems anymore.” Nanako sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she took a long sip of her tea. “But, here we are. I don’t even want to imagine the chaos that would have been if your father and I had decided to give you a little brother or sister. I don’t think I would have survived those fights if I’m struggling with just you and your cousin.”

Langa had asked a few times for a baby brother or sister when he had been younger. He had been in kindergarten and watching the children arrive with siblings made him envy them. The closest thing he had to a sibling was Emily, and he only say her during the summer. But those kids, they had a friend all year long. And they didn’t have to meet anyone new because siblings were family and family wasn’t scary. Not like all the kids whose faces were starting to blur together.

As he got older, he grew to be content with being an only child. He didn’t have to share at home. Everything at home was his: his toys, his parents, his room. As he grew older, he heard the other kids complain about their siblings, how they were hogging the tv or finished the last of the cereal without telling anyone. So Langa was happy with being alone. It was perhaps selfish of him, but he was glad he just had to deal with another kid just during the summer. Playing with Emily in the summer was more than enough.

But as he got older, Langa also wondered what it would have been like to have a real sibling, someone constantly buzzing around him. Would they have snowboarded with him? Would they have looked up at him? Would they have played with him? Would they have fought a lot? And would Langa have been a good brother, like Reki was? Would he have been able to help his sibling with their homework or their daily problems? Would he have been able to give and give and give so much like Reki did? Would have been as kind as Reki when-

Langa shook his head, shaking away the thought of Reki. He had to stop thinking of Reki all the damn time.

“Maybe it would have been better if I had a sibling. Maybe I would actually know how to say sorry?”

A light chuckle shook the teacup his mother was holding to her lips. “Maybe. But it’s never too late to start learning! I really think you should go see Emily. Oh! And bring her breakfast while you’re at it! It’ll be bonus points for you!”

Langa gave his mother a curt nod before moving to the kitchen counter to prepare a plate of pancakes for Emily. If there was one thing Langa knew, it was that food always cheers people up. Food was a universal peace offering that no one could refuse. Nobody could refuse a good plate of fluffy pancakes drowned in maple syrup. Or at least, Langa wouldn’t have been able to refuse. Hopefully, Emily wouldn’t refuse.

The confidence that Langa had built up lasted a grand total of three minutes, just enough time to assemble the plate and make his way to his mother’s room. Everything had been clear in his head: he would knock and apologize to Emily, offering him the pancakes. It was a simple plan, but when it came time to execute it, Langa froze. The words jumbled in his head and his hands refused to cooperate. He had to knock. Form a fist, lightly tap the door, that was all. Yet it felt like the most difficult thing to do. His fingers only tightened around the plate, not wanting to let go of it.

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? If, a big if, Emily opened the door after he finally fessed up the courage to knock, then he would have to say something. He’d have to say sorry. He would have to say sorry, but for what? For being cold and distant and…. Like himself? No. That was making excuses. It was a bad habit of his, apologizing and making excuses for himself. Like when he had that big fight with Reki- No! He was not thinking of Reki. He was thinking of Emily and how he was going to say sorry for shouting at her. He was thinking of Emily and how he was going to apologize for being inconsiderate and too in his own head to realize that he was hurting her and straight-up selfish. He was going to apologize instead of ignoring the situation until it went away.

With a deep breath, Langa raised his first. One knock. Silence. Two knocks. Movement in the room. Three knocks. The door creaking open.

Emily stood in the doorway, staring up at Langa, her eyes devoid of their usual warmth. Her eyes flickered between his face and the plate he was holding up for her, a peace offering. There was no sign of cheeriness in her face, only a deep frown. She was small, but she seemed so big. Small, but intimidating.

Langa shifted from foot to foot, pushing the plate into her hands. “It’s, it’s for you. Mom made it. Thought you’d like some.”

Finally! Finally, she took the plate, though she didn’t seem any closer to wanting to listen to Langa. But she didn’t turn away. She just stood there in the doorway, plate in hand.

“And I- I just…” Langa inhaled sharply. He could do this. He could fix this. “I’m sorry.”

It was stupid. It was so stupid. He felt like a little kid on the playground, small and childish, sent off to apologize for breaking the other kid’s plastic shovel. He felt like a child who had no clue how to apologize. Sorry. I’m sorry. It was all he knew how to say. He didn’t know how to truly, properly apologize. He had never cared enough about people to feel the need to say more than just sorry.

“Did your mom send you to apologize or is this really from you?”

“Me! I’m sorry, I mean it.” Langa did mean it, but Emily didn’t seem completely convinced yet. “I… shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Alright, alright,” she shifted her weight onto one foot, leaning into the doorframe, “don’t need to overuse it. I know we’re known for constantly apologizing, but you know damn well that that’s just a stereotype. You don’t actually have to say sorry every other word.”

“But I feel like I should.”

Emily sighed. “Alright. Don’t overdo it either. But,” she glanced towards the kitchen behind Langa, right where Nanako was sitting, sipping her tea and finishing her breakfast, “can we talk in your room? Like, don’t get me wrong, I love Auntie Nanako, but it’s just… feels weird doing this in front of her. Like we’re back at the grandparents and we have to apologize for breaking whatever before going home and the parents want to make sure we’ve properly apologized? Yeah, it’s… it’s really weird. No offense to your mom or anything.”

“I get it, no worries. Reki’s the same way.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on her lips. “You really never stop thinking of him, do you?”

“I-!” He didn’t. He had to stop, but somehow Reki always found his way back into Langa’s head. “He’s my best friend. And the only one of my friends who’s come over. So it’s just, it’s a coincidence.”

“Uh-huh, sure, sure.” Emily brushed past Langa, making her way to his room with her breakfast. “You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

“I’m serious!” Langa huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and refusing to acknowledge the heat forming in his cheeks as he followed his cousin. “You know, for someone who’s pissed at me, you sure are in a good mood.”

“Oh.” Emily stopped in front of his closed-door before turning to him with a grin. “I stopped being mad at you like two days ago.”

Two days ago. That was impossible. Just last night she was leaving the kitchen as soon as Langa was coming in, kicking his shoes off. Just last night she was locking herself in his mother’s room, refusing to even look at him. It was impossible that she wasn’t still mad at him. It didn’t make sense.

“Yeah, I’m just really petty.”

It was the way she was saying it, just shrugging as she pushed the door open. It was how nonchalant she was about it, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You…” Langa sighed. Reasoning was impossible. “You made me suffer for three days, brushing me off, refusing to eat at the same time as me, basically telling me to go fuck myself for… for what reason?”

“You were insufferable for three days, so it was only fair that I made you suffer the same amount.”

“You,” Langa said with a huff and entering his room right behind his cousin, “are impossible.”

“Thanks!”

As Emily got comfortable on the floor, her back pressed against the closet door as she got ready to eat, Langa let his whole body flop onto his bed. It had gone better than he had anticipated, but it had still been exhausting. The spiraling insecurities always took a lot out of him. But as soon as his body sank into his mattress, his face hitting his pillow, everything melted away. Everything felt better, the weight of his mistakes lifted from his shoulders. And the sound of Emily struggling to cut her pancakes with her fork reminded him that things would be okay. He hadn’t broken everything important to him.

Langa shifted on his bed, folding his arms and tucking them under his chin as he looked over at Emily.

“I’m serious though. I am sorry about being insufferable and all. Just…”

“It’s fine, really. Apology accepted, Langa. Just,” Emily stopped picking at her plate, her brown eyes falling onto Langa instead, “can I finally know why you were acting all shitty and whatever?”

Why had he acted the way he did? The answer was terribly obvious, but it was also stupid. Terribly stupid.

“Reki?”

Silence emptied the room completely. Emile blinked at Langa, a forkful of pancakes hanging between her mouth and her plate as she gapped at him. It was stupid. So stupid. Langa should have lied. He should have found another reason. Now he seemed stupid because he was and this whole situation was stupid because of Langa’s stupid heart that was constantly beating in his chest at a speed that was probably alarming and-

“You…” Emily inhaled sharply, putting her plate and fork down onto her lap and brought her hands together to her mouth. Then her hands were pointed in Langa’s direction and he sank into his pillow. “You were an asshole to me for three days because of your boyfriend?”

Heat raced through his body as Langa jolted up. “He’s not-!”

“Fine! Your ‘best friend’ or whatever you wanna call it! What- What the actual fuck, Langa?”

“I don’t know! I don’t…”

Langa shouldn’t have been laughing. He should have been serious, trying to explain his mess. But Emily was laughing, her hands in her face as she wiped away tears, and it was hard to not laugh with her. Maybe she had also realized that everything was ridiculous. Maybe she had finally realized that Langa was absolutely ridiculous.

“I don’t know, Emmy. I really- It made sense, or maybe it never really did?”

“No, it does not make any sense. You do not make any sense, you twig!”

“I just… I was mad, okay? I don’t know who I was mad at – probably myself most of all – but it was just easier to take it out on you since, since, you know, you kinda, I mean, if you hadn’t come to DopeSketch then maybe?”

“You were pissed at me because your not-boyfriend suggested teaching me how to skate? You… what the fuck?”

Langa dropped back into his pillow, resisting the urge to scream. It sounded so much worse when said like that. It sounded so much worse when talking about it. If only he could disappear forever and avoid the absolute humiliation of having Emily half-screaming at him, half-laughing at him. It was worse than… than anything, really. Langa was ready to dig his own hole to hide in.

He peered over his pillow, not ready to let go of it quite yet. It was a rather effective shield.

“Yes? I mean… It’s not the skating part that bothered me. It’s the-”

“Part where it sounded like he was asking me out?”

Langa chewed on the inside of his cheek, nodding hesitantly into his pillow. He was aware that he was acting like a child who was caught doing something wrong. He was aware that he looked stupid and foolish. He was aware that he was supposed to be able to handle himself just a little better than that, but what was he to do? The pillow was the only thing keeping him safe.

“Langa! You useless-!”

Langa almost missed Emily pinching the bridge of her nose, looking more exasperated than he had ever seen her.

“You… Look, first off, he wasn’t asking me out. And second of all, if you had stuck around an extra 20 seconds, you would have known I turned him down.”

Emily had turned Reki down. She had refused him. What kind of monster refuses anything from Reki?

“What? Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you turn him down?”

Emily clicked her tongue as she stared up at the ceiling. “Well, it’s pretty simple, really. Your ‘friend’ there,” Langa cringed at the air quotes, “really did sound like he was asking me out, which apparently actually wasn’t his intention. But even if it had been his intention, he’s basically a kid. He’s not even 18, is he?”

“Next week.”

“So he’s not even 18, which is… weird? I don’t know, even if he was 18, it would still be weird for me. Not that was the main point of this. The most important part of this,” Emily straightened out, leaning closer to Langa, “I know you like him. Hell, I think everyone knows that you’re basically head over heels for him.”

“Everyone but him,” Langa mumbled into his pillow, completely defeated. There was no point in moving out of the fluff.

“I… I don’t think you’re giving the kid enough credit, Langa. I don’t think he’s as dense as you paint him to be.”

“Oh great. Yay for me. I get to fuck up yet another friendship.”

“I… also don’t think you’re messing up your friendship.” Langa could hear Emily shuffle on her side of the room, the fork clanking against the ceramic plate. She was probably starting to feel sore from the hardwood floor. “Look, I don’t know shit. The only news I’ve gotten of you in the past three years has been from your mom talking to grandma who would then tell my mom. And from the time I’ve been here, well, I’m just your dumb, airhead cousin. My opinion isn’t worth shit, but it kinda looks like it might be reciprocated?”

Langa propped up onto his elbows, huffing as he stared at Emily. “It’s not. And all you’re achieving right now is giving me false hope.”

“No! That’s not-! I didn’t mean… I was talking to Reki, after you stormed off like a big baby.”

“Gee, thanks. False hope and making fun of me.”

“And like, I was telling him that I was flattered and all, but that I had to turn down his offer since, you know, I’m heading back home in a couple of weeks. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone to try something with an expiration date and he doesn’t seem to be the type to just wanna hook up or whatever.”

Langa buried his face in his pillow again, hands over his ears. “I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t-”

“I didn’t say that to him, you twig! Now listen to me! I don’t wanna talk about sex with you, anyway!”

Langa’s face was flushed and panicked as he lifted it from his pillow for what felt like the thousandth time in a very little amount of time. His voice was high-pitched, only accentuating his horror. “I don’t wanna talk about sex with anyone! Especially not- No!”

“Aw, it’s okay, little baby Langa. I won’t disgust you with that. But I will tell you that Reki is so cute when he’s flustered. Like, he’s adorable, isn’t he?”

“I… will not answer that.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smile stretching across her face.

“Right. I forgot, you probably find him cute even when he’s passed out cold, snoring and drooling into his pillow.” Langa stayed quiet, chewing at his lip. “But yeah, turns out that it was just genuine desire to get me to try something new that would keep me busy? He was so embarrassed at the whole miscommunication thing and thinking he was asking me out. But so very cute. Just wanted to pinch his cheeks and squish his little face! Ah! I can’t wait for you to ask him out! Like, it’ll be so cute! And dumb! Because look at you!”

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to describe whatever it was that was twisting in Langa’s body. There was the heat of embarrassment, the desire for Emily to just shut the fuck up, but there was also the lightness of familiarity and fun. Falling back into the easy banter was nice. It was much better than being mad or being ignored. It was… comforting to know that there was someone he could talk to like this.

“This feels homophobic.”

Emily stared at him with a deadpan expression which made him snicker.

“When’s the last time you made that joke?”

“Whenever the last time you spoke to me and forced my hand.”

“I did not- Go to Hell!”

Oh, she was making this just too easy for him.

“But,” Langa cocked his head to the side, not bothering to hide his amused smile, “isn’t that where all the gays go?”

Exasperation stained Emily’s face as she reached out to him, her hands making a choking motion. Oh, how he had missed the jokes. How he had missed being annoying and obnoxious.

“How? How have you not outed yourself yet?”

Langa shrugged. “Simple. I don’t know how to say half of this shit in Japanese, so I can’t say it. Plus, new place, new life. Only you get the privilege of dealing with how I was back in Canada. But you bet your ass that I’m thinking it, even if I’m not saying it.”

“I’m sure you’re also thinking of someone’s ass-!”

It was a reflex, throwing the pillow at Emily. It was the only thing Langa could think of to get her to shut up. But the moment the pillow collided with the girl, her whole body curling to defend herself from the attack, Langa knew he had fucked up. Metal and ceramic clattered across his floor, half-eaten pancakes and an ungodly amount of smuggled maple syrup pooling on Emily’s lap and at her feet. Both froze, staring at the white pillow soaking in the sticky mess they had created.

“Damn, all this because you can’t take an ass joke.”

“I will choke you.”

“Kinky. Keep it for your boyfriend.”

So Emily was even worse than him. At least, when it came to obnoxiously dumb jokes. When it came to cleaning, both sucked, just staring at the floor instead of doing anything. At this rate, Langa would be better off just buying himself a new pillow; there was no way he would manage to get all that syrup out of it. But moving meant acknowledging the problem, and Langa was not ready for that. Or maybe he just didn’t like cleaning up messes.

“If my pillow is trash, I will murder you.”

Reluctantly, Emily picked up the pillow, holding it far from herself. A large stain had formed on the pillowcase, having probably seeped through the fabric and into the pillow’s fluff. Her face twisted in disgust. She also didn’t seem keen on cleaning and laundry.

“I invite you to try, but people have been trying and failing for the past 20 years.”

Langa sighed, finally pulling his legs off his bed and crouching down in from of the flipped plate. How was he supposed to clean this up? Where did he even start?

“Just help me clean your mess.”

“My mess? Excuse me? You’re the one who hit me with a pillow and caused this!”

The fork. He would start by picking up the fork. And maybe the plate. Leaving it on the floor was just risking breaking it. Hopefully, it wasn’t chipped.

“Go get the cleaning products. I think mom keeps them under the sink in the bathroom. And throw my pillow into a bag or something. We’ll have to go to the laundromat later.”

Emily sighed, finally pushing herself off the ground. She still held the pillow with the tip of her fingers, very far from her body.

“Fine! I’ll keep you company later, but you’re cleaning your floor! I’m not touching anything sticky and gross.”

“It’s maple syrup. How is that gross?”

“Just saying that I don’t know what trash you’ve put on your floor and I am not scrubbing it.”

“Just go get the stuff before this leaks through the floorboard.”

Emily huffed one last time before exiting the room. While he waited, Langa could hear his mother questioning Emily. “What was that noise?” “What are you looking for?” “Did you and Langa make up?” A smile pulled on the corner of Langa’s mouth. He knew his mother would ask questions and that was the only reason he had sent Emily to fetch the cleaning products. He knew if he had gone himself, then he would have had a thousand questions to answer which he absolutely did not want to do.

[princess-victoria-targaryen]

Desert road

Daryl Dixon X Male Reader.

Angst fic, character death.

I wrote this years ago for a challenge and found it again recently, decided to throw it out there.

Summary: Y/n picks Daryl up from a bar in town, miles from their home. Shitfaced drunk, Daryl experiences the most traumatic event in his life.

Warnings: Drunk Daryl. Verbal fighting. Daryl being an asshole. Injuries. Death.

Setting: Right before season 1 of twd.

Enjoy!

It happened on a Saturday, late at night, or maybe early Sunday. Not that it mattered. It was a memory that haunted him every night, every single night. It didn't matter whether he was asleep or not, the dark sky, the side of an abandoned road at night, a walker with bloody flesh hanging off its dead mouth, it all reminded him of that one night. If only he had known what would happen, if only he had listened, he could've stopped it. But he didn't know at the time, couldn't have known. And he didn't listen, too absorbed in other things to even cast a glance to the side. And he couldn't stop it, because it had already happened before he had the chance to turn around. He beats himself up over it every night, every single night. 

~

"Daryl, c'mon, we gotta go home!" The voice calling for him was familiar, but Daryl's drunk mind couldn't process who it was or where it came from. When did the music get this loud? He turned his head to the left, and then to the right, searching the sweaty, dancing bodies around him, trying to find the person who the voice belonged to. A hand on his shoulder caught his attention, and he whirled around to see the face of his lovely boyfriend. He tried to smile at him, but it faltered as soon as he saw the glare directed at him.

"Y/n? We, we can stay here! It's f-fun!" His words were slightly slurred, but he sobered up just by looking into his boyfriend's angry eyes. Y/n was never angry at him, annoyed, sure, but never angry. It's like Y/n wasn't capable of being angry, always smiling, trying to cheer people up or solve a problem. Y/n hated arguing, and often didn't see the point in getting mad. But this was different.

"We are leaving, right now." His voice was a bit lower than usual, just a tad bit intimidating to get through to Daryl. Daryl's mind barely had time to process the hand grabbing at his sleeve, and he soon felt the cold air hit him outside the bar. When did he start walking? His boyfriend was talking, probably to him, but he was distracted by the bottle in his hand that he hadn't noticed before. When did he get this? He took a careful sniff at it, and once he knew what it was, he took a sip. The alcohol burned his throat, but it felt good. Life had been cruel to him for too long, the only good thing about it being Y/n, and he needed a break.

The walk to the car was long and awkward and cold, and Daryl disliked every second of it, but so did Y/n. This was the third time in a month that Daryl had gotten so drunk he could barely walk, and Y/n was getting sick of dragging him out of a random bar in town before he could start a fight. Daryl got drunk often, started fights in bars, and seemed to have little to no respect for Y/n while in this state, but he loved the man, and he won't let such a thing ruin them.

Y/n slowly guided them down the sidewalk, making sure Daryl didn't trip over his own feet, and unlocked the car once they got to it. He lowered Daryl into the passenger seat and got into the drivers seat himself, glad he didn't drink that night. It was then that he noticed the already half empty bottle in his boyfriend's hand, and sent him a questioning glance.

"Seriously? You're still going at it?" He started the car, not really expecting Daryl to answer, and drove out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for a long while, stuck between not knowing what to say and not wanting to say anything at all. The longer they drove, the more tense the air became, until Daryl had had enough of it. He leaned his head against the cool window, watching the scenery pass by as he blurted it out.

"Y'know, I don't need you to babysit me. I can take care of myself." If he had been sober, he would've slapped himself for saying that, but in that moment, he couldn't think.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry for wanting to look out for my boyfriend. And I also sincerely apologize for keeping you out of fights, and for taking care of you when you have a hangover, and for driving miles through a goddamn desert to come get you, and for driving miles through a desert again to take you home. Wow, yeah, I'm such an asshole, and so unreasonable, and oh my, I think you should just get out now and walk the rest of the way, or maybe back to the bar seeing as you can't get enough of that whiskey." His voice was even, calm, and nothing like the tone Daryl's past partners have used in an argument. That's a thing Daryl loves about Y/n, he never raises his voice unless absolutely necessary, and he always listens to Daryl no matter how unreasonable he's being.

Daryl is about to snap back at Y/n, to say something he doesn't mean and will regret later, but he doesn't get the chance. His boyfriend slams down on the brakes, causing the car to make a screeching sound and stop in its tracks. Y/n's arm shoots out to stop Daryl from smashing into the window, and he turns on the mist lights, dark, scared eyes scanning the empty road around them. Daryl takes a few long seconds to process the sudden halt, and his drunken mind tells him to be angry.

"What the hell was that?! You can't just do that!" His angry roar breaks the silence, and Y/n visibly flinches. Oh. He didn't mean to scare him, but he doesn't realize that now, his temper worsened by the high percentage of alcohol and his reason nowhere to be seen. Y/n doesn't answer him, doesn't even spare him a glance, as his eyes search the road and desert around them, for what, Daryl doesn't know.

"What the fuck are you looking for? Hey, Y/n! Why’d ya stop driving?" He couldn't stop himself from snapping again, his words landing like a blow to the face. Y/n curls in on himself, eyes going impossibly wider.

"I, I just.. There was, I think, and I saw-" He takes sharp, uneven breaths, and points a shaking hand at the road.

"There was someone, a, a person, I think." Daryl scoffs, shaking his head as he looks where Y/n is pointing.

"There's nothing there, you're just seeing things." He leans back against the seat, expecting Y/n to start the car again, which he does. The car rumbles for a few seconds before it starts, and they continue to drive down the road. After a few, silent minutes, Y/n takes a longer inhale and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, you're right. I think I'm probably just seeing things."

Dead trees and bushes flash past them, illuminated by the bright lights of the car. Y/n still hadn't turned off the mist lights, too shaken up by the strange, stumbling figure he had seen about a mile back.

"What if it was someone in need of help? What if they got stranded in the desert, injured, alone and without food? Why didn't we get out of the car to look? To ask them?" Daryl sighed as he listened to his boyfriend's rambling, sitting up a bit and turning to him.

"Look, Y/n, I know that you tend to worry about others, but we ain’t going back. If they need help, another car will come by sooner or later. And what if it was someone on drugs? Or a serial killer waiting for their new victims? Just take us home and forget about it."

"What if I can't?" Daryl's eyes snapped open at that, and he glared fiercely at his boyfriend.

"Don't you fucking dare." His warning didn't do anything, as Y/n turned the wheel and changed the car's direction, driving back the way they came too fast.

"Y/n! Y/n stop! You're gonna cause an accident!" Daryl tightly grabbed at his seat, desperate for something to hold onto as the car sped down the dark road.

But no one was prepared for what happened next.

It happened in mere seconds, but both of them felt as though it lasted minutes. The car slipped, the brakes stopped working, the car slid over something on the road, it spun around, three, four, five times, before it came to a halt, lower to the ground than it was supposed to be. The airbags had shot out, softening the impact of Y/n's head hitting the steering wheel. Daryl had been somewhat lucky, his hands clamped so tightly to the seat and window that he hadn't crashed into anything.

"Daryl?" He took another sip of the whiskey, which had also survived the almost crash, before he looked to his left, seeing Y/n with a bloody nose and a forming bruise on his right cheekbone. He wanted to worry, to wipe away the blood and place a soft kiss over the bruise, but his rage won the battle, settling deep into his core as he realized what had happened, and who had caused it.

He stepped out of the car, rounded it, and noticed that the two front tires were flat. He cursed loudly, opening his boyfriend's door and almost yanking him out of the car, pointing at the damage.

"You fucking idiot! Are you kidding me? You ruined our car! How are we getting home now, huh? How are you gonna fix this?" His voice was like thunder, and Y/n flinched out of his grip.

“I’m sorry, I really am! But I swear, there was something on the road!” He wiped at the blood on his face, this was the first time he was truly afraid of Daryl. But his boyfriend would never hit him, he never had and he never would.

It was quiet then. They didn’t know what to say or what to do. What could they do? Their car was ruined, and Daryl was so drunk he could barely keep standing.

“I’ll call Merle to pick us up, he’s probably still in town anyway.” He turned away then, leaving Y/n to himself. He muttered something about Merle probably being drunk as well before turning to the car and looking at the reflection of the window.

“Fucking great, lovely, it’s not like I have a goddamn job interview in two days.. Nope, not at all.” He hissed as his fingers brushed over the bruise, quickly pulling away. Daryl had walked to the side of the road, sitting down on a fallen tree as he tried to reach his brother.

“What did we hit in the first place, anyway?” Y/n wondered as he took a few steps away from the car, rounding it and searching the road for anything that could’ve caused the car to crash. He took out his phone and used it to shine a light on the road, noticing some red, sticky substance.

“Okay, well, that’s unsettling. Look at me, talking to myself in the middle of the night, looking at blood, sounds like a goddamn horror movie!” He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he inspected the blood. But a long, vicious groan cut his train of thought off. It came from under the car.

“Okay, what the actual fuck. Daryl?” His boyfriend was still on the phone, apparently now arguing with his older brother, and he didn’t look up at the mention of his name. Y/n was about to walk over, when another groan came from under the car. His gaze snapped to the source of it, and he kneeled down.

“Please don’t be a poor dying cat, please don’t be a poor dying ca- WHAT THE HECK?!” A hand shot out, but not a normal hand, it was rotten, with flesh loosely hanging around it while black blood coated its fingers. It grabbed a hold of Y/n’s wrist before he could pull away. Y/n screamed, a loud, distressed sound which had Daryl drop his phone and jump up immediately.

Then a head came from under the car, dead and rotting and the stench was unbearable. It released another groan before diving its teeth into Y/n’s arm, biting through the flesh and muscle. But it didn’t stop there, it tore off the skin, turning the arm into a bleeding mess.

Y/n screamed again. A long, agonizing sound ripped through the air as he yanked his arm back, cradling it against his chest and staining his shirt with blood. His breaths came out fast and short as he struggled to move away, the pain in his arm so overwhelming he could barely sense Daryl’s hands on his shoulders.

“Y/n! Y/n, look at me, it’s okay, you’re gonna be fine.” Daryl’s face came in his vision, the familiar warm eyes and worried expression soothing Y/n’s incredibly fast beating heart. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before Daryl’s attention was on the wound, his hands hovering over it as he tried to figure out what to do.

“Okay, it’s, it’s not that bad. Let me just, grab s-some spare bandages from the trunk, okay?” He made sure to place a reassuring kiss on Y/n’s forehead before standing up and heading to the car.

“Wait!” Y/n’s hand shot out, catching Daryl’s wrist.

“Please don’t go, I don’t feel so, so good.” A sweat broke out on his forehead and his cheeks flushed.

“What’s wrong, how can I help?” Daryl’s worried tone did little to no good as Y/n slumped backwards, too weak to sit up anymore. Daryl quickly fell to his knees beside him, putting his hand of Y/n’s forehead to check for a fever.

“You’re burning up!” His mind shot into panic, he didn’t know what to do. Things like this normally didn’t cause an instant fever. But normally, a not-so-dead corpse wouldn’t bite into someone’s arm..

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Y/n I’m so incredibly sorry!” He cradled Y/n as he spoke, afraid that this would be it, that this would be the last time he could look into those beautiful eyes.

“For what?” Y/n’s weak voice hurt his heart, this is really it.

“For everything. For drinking so often, for yelling at you, for blaming you for everything. I love you, so so much, I never wanted to hurt you.” Tears streamed down his face as he cupped Y/n’s cheek, stroking it with his fingers.

“First of all, I forgive you. It’s okay, I stayed, didn’t I? And second, you act like I’m dying! C’mon Daryl, I’m fine!” He coughed then, long and hard. His vision blurred a little as he tried to sit up. What in the world was happening to him?

“Let me call an ambulance, please?” Daryl knew how stubborn Y/n could be, especially when it came to injuries, but he was just so worried. He could be dying for all he knows! Y/n sighed but nodded, watching as Daryl walked towards his phone.

His head hurt, his vision was blurred, he felt dizzy and the pain in his arm spread through his whole body, but he still smiled, because he had a reason to smile, he had Daryl. With that thought, his consciousness faded and his body slumped on the ground.

~

[marvinswriting]

Jason

hey, you guys remember jason from the movie? the one gretchen hooked up with but he didn't actually care about her? yeah :) ALSO REGINA POV?!?!? tw: bullying, suffocation, manipulation, shane omen mention g/t mean girls

I wasn't controlling.

Well- let me rephrase that.

There were rules for being plastic. I made sure Karen and Gretchen followed those rules. That wasn't controlling. Just, guidelines. They're rules in place to help the other plastics. Dress codes, what clubs you can and can't join, you can't buy a dress without the others approval, don't date your friend's exes-

but totally new boys were fair game. 

So before you ask, no, that's not why I'm against Gretchen dating Jason. 

On surface level, Jason seemed like a nice guy.

But he constantly blew off Gretchen, he flirted with other girls, and overall was totally using her.

And that's not even getting into how he treats tinies.

That's right.

Jason is a two-faced fucking asshole.

And none of the giants can see it.

I mean- I'm sure they're suspicious. I know Damian notices when Janis stiffens the second Jason walks in the room. And, Cady has probably picked up on the way Aaron gets quiet. If Gretchen has caught on to anything, she totally ignores it. I mean- Janis, Aaron, and I tried telling our friends in the begging. Gretchen didn't want to hear it. She's got a huge crush on the guy and totally ignores all red flags. 

So we gave up getting through to her. 

Besides, who would believe us? Jason was so sweet whenever our giants were around.

I guess when we collectively decided we couldn't get through to Gretchen- all the other giants were a lost cause too. And that was months ago. We're in too deep now.

"Allow me to take it back to the drawing board and suggest the best idea we've had since day one," Janis huffed. We were in an empty hallway after school for 'english help'. We've been staying after a lot more recently. 

It's been getting worse.

Jason isn't trying to be sneaky anymore. He'll pick up Aaron without asking, conveniently drop his textbook on the cafeteria table right next to Janis, wrap his arm around Gretchen when I'm on her shoulder. 

Yet nobody has caught on.

Janis continued. "Why don't we just tell our giants what he's doing?"

"Because Gretchen won't listen to me."

"Good thing there's three other friends." Janis points out.

I rolled my eyes, waving my hand dismissively. Of course, Janis didn't understand how it felt not to have her giant listen to her. Her and Damian practically share a mind, if anything it's a shock he hasn't started asking questions. "Fine, if you know what's best for everyone, go talk to Damian. I'm sure you two will solve everything with your buddy buddy perfect communication skills. Janis has a giant who actually listens to her! Wow! You don't have to rub it in." I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the wall.

Aaron blinks, his gaze bouncing between both of us nervously.

"I wasn't-" Janis pauses, letting her hands fold in her lap. "I wasn't rubbing anything in. Listen- Regina, I'm sorry Gretchen won't listen. Truly. I'm being genuine right now. But don't make me feel guilty for trying to come up with a solution to something affecting all three of us."

"Right," I mumble, guilt rising in my stomach. "Sorry. I just-"

My voice trails off but neither Janis nor Aaron push for me to continue talking. Gretchen was somebody I could always trust to be there and listen to me. Now she didn’t. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to make her listen. We're silent for a while while I regroup my emotions, not wanting to snap for no reason again. 

"I have tried talking to Gretchen recently."

"And how did it go?" Aaron prompted.

"Well, it fucking went." I shrug. "Gretchen isn't used to having boys like her. I love her but crushes directed to her don't happen often. So of course she accused me of being jealous a boy finally liked her and not me."

"Maybe it had to do with how you worded it?" Janis suggests.

"Well, how else do I word 'hey maybe you should break up with the boy you're not even officially dating yet because he's toxic, a cheater, not actually in love with you, also harassing your tiny friends'?"

"Literally any way but that." Janis mumbled.

I shrug again, pulling out my phone. "Well, I did my best. You know emotions aren't my thing." I want to cry a little just thinking about the talk last week. But I don't. Crying won't fix anything. 

"Regina, why can't you be happy that a boy likes me for once?! I know you're used to all the boys falling head over heels for you, but this is the first time a cute boy has put in the effort to care and call back and-"

"But he doesn't, Gretchen! He doesn't call back. He. Doesn't. Care! I'm doing this for you because nobody else is gonna tell you. Jason is bad news. He doesn't care about you, or Karen, or Cady, or Damian, and he really doesn't give a shit about Janis, Aaron, or I!"

"Just let me be happy, Regina." Gretchen says dismissively, ignoring everything I just said.

There's a hand on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. Aaron looks at me worriedly but retreats his arm. "Gina, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just-" I wipe away a strand of hair that's been matted to my face by tears. Wait-

-tears?

I use my sleeve to dry my face quickly. I didn't even realize I started crying. I was just so tired. I was supposed to feel safe around my friends. Even when the rest of the school sees me as an emotionless bitch I should be able to turn to my friends and be okay. I couldn't do what when my current number one source of fear has intruded into our group.

"So," Janis says awkwardly. "We don't tell our giants directly. How do we get them to see the side of Jason we're seeing?"

"We catch him in the act." Aaron suggests.

Janis shakes her head with a sigh. "I am tired and quite frankly sick. I don't want our plan 'a' to be; lets put ourselves in danger in hopes that our friends stop by to witness. Let's make that plan 'y' or 'z'."

"Well, we already have plans 'b' through 'z'. We need and 'a', I'm just spouting ideas." Aaron points out.

Janis sighs, shaking her head. "I should have stuck with Damian. I need a nap and maybe an Advil."

I chuckled dryly at the girl sitting across from me. "Always have your priorities sorted, huh Janis?"

"If my priorities include being sick and not wanting to deal with Jason ever again then yeah."

"It's getting harder and harder 'not to deal with Jason ever again'," Aaron pointed out. "Remember lunch last week?"

"Don't remind me." Janis huffed. 

Last week Jason decided to be a lot more careless with how he treated us around our giant friends. 

I cringe just thinking of the memory.

"All I'm saying is the tiny soccer team is so underfunded. We're even better than the giant soccer team but you wouldn't know it because we've set up to fail."

I raise my eyebrow as Aaron sits next to me, passionately explaining how he swears the tiny soccer team is not a total failure. 

I sat in front of Gretchen and across from Janis, who was flopped against Damian's forearm clearly struggling to stay awake.

I grin as she yawns. 

"Am I boring you, Janis?" Aaron teases.

"A little," Janis says with full honesty.

Before Aaron can remark, a stack of textbooks is dropped in between him and I, narrowly missing me as I push myself backward.

Jason.

Janis's eyes widen and I instantly rush around the textbook to make sure Aaron is okay. He is, just looks equally as shaken up as I do.

Jason sits in the seat between Damian and Gretchen without bothering to great the tinies he just nearly crushed. It's where Cady normally sits, but she isn't here today.

"Jason!" Gretchen grins, pecking him on the cheek like I didn't just almost die.

I throw and exasperated look to Janis who laughs at my expense. 

She wasn't the one almost fucking crushed.

Janis pushes off Damian's arm, making her way over to Aaron and I.

Or tries to.

She doesn't make it very far before shes intercepted by a hand scooping her up.

Janis makes a noise of surprise as Jason lifts her off the table without asking.

I push myself closer to Gretchen as Janis instantly tries to get back down to the table. Jason's thumb knocks her down and I cringe because- that looked like it hurt.

Damian eyes Jason wearily but doesn't vocally say anything. But neither does Janis so why would anyone worry? It's just Jason. Sweet Jason. The boy who's probably gonna ask Gretchen to spring fling. Innocent Jason.

Janis sits up again, clearly uncomfortable, as Damian speaks. "Maybe I should hold Janis?"

"No," Jason says simply before Janis can even open her mouth. "She's fine."

"Janis," Damian ignores the boy next to him. "Do you want Jason holding you?"

Janis is silent for a while, and I don't blame her.

She's in Jason's hands.

One wrong more and shes getting hurt-

badly.

"I- I uh, kinda want to be with Damian right now? If that's okay?" Janis speaks slowly, picking her words wisely.

"That's okay!" Jason reassures her sweetly, passing the girl to her giant. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." Aaron and Janis make an identical face of discussed at the sickly sweet tone and I can only assume my face is similar.

"It's okay." Janis says softly, visibly more relaxed in Damain's hands.

Jason forces a frown. "Well- I'll go give you space. Gretchen, I'll see you next period."

He gets up, walking away but I don't feel very bad for him. If anything, I feel safer. And if the collective breath of relief from Janis and Aaron was an indicator- they felt the same.

As soon as Jason was out of earshot, Gretchen turned to Janis. "Jason was just trying to be nice, Janis. You need to be willing to welcome him into our friend group."

Janis' jaw slacked. The 'are you kidding me' went unsaid. Instead, Janis forced out an "Of course, it's my fault." 

"I'm serious, Janis. Be nice." 

"I'm serious too." Janis shot back.

Aaron and I shared a look of helplessness. We couldn't just tell them. Our giants would never believe us.

To them, Jason could do no wrong.

"The only solution is to never go to lunch again." Janis speaks up, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Mhmm, sure. That's a reasonable solution." Aaron teases.

"You got something better, soccer boy?" Janis raises her eyebrow.

Aaron shakes his head. "We've reached a dead end. Gina? You got any ideas?"

I shake my head with defeat. "Unfortunately, no. All I know is Jason hates us and his goal is to make our friends hate us too through lying and manipulation."

"Go girl, give us nothing." Janis rolls her eyes. "We already knew that Regina."

"Okay, I get your sick and cranky, Janis, but I don't need you-"

"Okay!" Aaron interrupts me. "The three of us are stressed! We're worried. We're scared. But we're also all on the same page. Let's not go at each other's throats right now. We're the only ones who understand each other's struggles. Please stop fighting."

Janis and I both mumble a weak sorry. 

Aaron was right. We were all scared. Can you blame us? Jason was doing everything in his power to isolate us from our friends. For no other reason other then we're tinies and see-through his act. Why he wants Gretchen so bad is beyond me. But hell am I gonna let his toxic ass have her.

"Do you guys remember that scarf Gretchen wore last week?" I ask.

Janis tilts her head. "Yeah?"

"I don't pay enough attention." Aaron shrugs.

I grin. "Well, it was a baggy infinity scarf to refresh your memory. There was enough fabric that I could sit on Gretchen's shoulder next to her neck and not be seen. So I obviously skipped my boring history lecture. But also- Gretchen talked to Jason. He didn't know I was there."

"You're like a spy!" Janis grinned, invested in the story. "What happened?!"

"Hey, Gretchen!" Jason smiles, slipping his hand into Gretchen's as they walked down the hall.

I sunk lower into the pool of fabric, hopping Grethen didn't point out I was here.

"Hey, Jason!"

I let out a breath of relief when she doesn't.

"I have to ask you something," Jason asked.

My ears perk up as I wait for him to continue.

"Is that Janis girl always so- unfriendly? I get the feeling she doesn't like me. I just don't know why. Like Regina clearly doesn't like me very much but she might just be jealous you've got a boy and she doesn't-"

So that's where the seed of jealously in Gretchen's head was planted from. It takes all of me not the stand-up and call Jason out on his bullshit.

He continues.

"But I don't understand why Janis or Aaron wouldn't like me. Aaron just gets quiet and hey- maybe he's shy. But Janis lashes out every time I try and talk to her."

"Janis can be like that sometimes." Gretchen says, nodding in agreement.

Jason could tell her the earth is fucking flat and this bitch would nod in agreement.

I wouldn't be surprised if Gretchen is even really listening to what Jason is saying.

All she's thinking is 'hot boy's lips are moving'.

Ugh.

"At least he's caught onto the fact that I don't fucking like him." Janis crossed her arms.

"Janis, he's painting you to be the bad guy. He's trying to turn Gretchen against you, what don't you understand about that?" Aaron asked.

"Oh no, I understood. I just don't care. I hate Jason and I'm glad he's caught on."

"He hates you more." I point out.

"Impossible." Janis shook her head.

We go back and forth about who hates who more before settling on the fact that our collective hate for him outweighs anything he feels for us.

"Let's go meet our giants, it's getting late." Aaron said standing up. He holds out his hand, helping Janis up first, then me. 

Janis groans holding her head. "Still feel sick as fuck and standing up so fast did not help."

"Woe is you." I roll my eyes. "Let's go."

We walk through the school, making our way to the tiny pick up zone. We're halfway there as Aarons phone dings.

Its a text from Cady.

Aaron reads allowed: "Gretchen went home early so Karen is driving Regina home. Damian and Karen are still in after school help and I might be a bit late to pick you three up. Wait there for me, I swear I didn't forget about you guys."

I laugh. "Cady could never forget about us."

"I mean-" Janis starts. "There was the one ti-"

"Shut up." I cut her off. "Cady would never forget about her tiny friends."

We make it to the tiny pick up zone and sit against a wall to wait. It's no surprise that the hallway is empty. It's late after school on a Monday. Who would willingly still be in school?

There's footsteps down the hall and we all look up, expecting Cady.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Janis groans.

"Ever the pleasant one, Sarkisian." Jason jeers. 

"I'm tired, and sick, and will literally cry if you even touch me. I will bawl. And maybe bite. Don't come the fuck near me." Janis threatens, holding up a sharpened pencil like its a knife.

Jason doesn't seem intimidated by this action. "Whatcha gonna do? Nibble my finger?"

"Fuck off!" Janis whines, throwing her head back. "Literally any day but today."

"Listen whiney and friends. I just hear to pick you up for your friends. So stop being such a bitch Janis."

The friends that told us to 'wait here for Cady'?

Riiight.

I share a knowing look with Aaron while Janis gets up, making her way back into the tiny halls.

"Not fucking dealing with this. Good day asshole."

"Nope." Jason reaches forward, picking Janis off the platform. "You're coming with me bitch."

"This is kidnapping," Janis says flatly. She doesn't fight Jason or thrash. She looks tired, like death is appealing at this point. "I'm being abducted."

Jason's fingers tighten around her. "Thought you were the fisty one? Huh? Shane said you put up a pretty good fight. Where's the fight, Sarkisian?"

"You talked to Shane?" I gawk. I don't know why I'm surprised. They definitely seem like best friends.

"Can you put me the fuck down?" Janis huffs. "Kinda hard to breath."

"Oh, is it?" Jason said with feigned worry. "Shame."

Janis cried out as the hand around her tightened, and Jason grinned at the first real signs of fear Janis has shown yet.

"Put me down- asshole!" Janis wheezed. 

"Let go of her!" Aaron yelled.

It was moments like these when you really realize how helpless you were as a tiny. 

All I could do was sit and watch as Aaron yelled and Janis squirmed. All I could do was pray Cady or really anybody would walk past and see what's happening. 

Yeah, we've been threatened with death before.

Every tiny in Northshore has at least once.

And yeah, we've been pushed around before.

But I've never legitimately feared for my life of a friend's life.

I know maybe that's just a perk of being Regina Geroge, but this was new territory. And scary as fuck territory at that.

Jason seems pretty fucking pleased with himself and it makes my stomach twist. It's never gone this far before. 

Somebody is going to get really hurt.

And I can't do anything.

I can almost feel my heart stop as Janis goes limp. I can't see her face. 

But she's not fucking moving.

"Oh whoops." Jason shugs. "You tinies really are weak."

Aaron looks like if he could he'd fucking kill Jason.

Wouldn't we all.

"Put her down!" I yell, snapping out of my helpless funk.

Jason loosens his grip on Janis but she doesn't move. My breath feels caught in my throat. 

My eyes were trained on Janis and I didn't see Jasons another hand till his finger flicked into my side, sending me falling backward.

I felt like I was living through one of those dramatic fight scenes in the movies.

Expect isn't it the villains who are supposed to be defeated?

I'm curled into myself on the floor, Janis is knocked out in the literal hands of the enemy and Aaron looks ready to kill or cry, whichever is possible first.

Never thought I'd die in high school.

"Hey, Jason, is that you?" A voice calls from down the hall.

"Cady!" Aaron runs to the egde of the platform. 

Jasons condescending nature and snarl disappear. "Hello, Heron!"

"Is Janis asleep?" Cady asks as her eyes fall to Jason's hand. "She only ever falls asleep with Damian, either shes exhausted or really trust you."

The bitter laugh is out of my mouth before I can stop it. 

Cady looks at me and tilts her head. "Regina, why do you look like you've been crying on the floor?" She pauses, her eyes trailing back between the four of us. I can almost see the doubt set in her mind. Yes! "What's really going on here?" She asks. "And uh, I'm gonna take Janis-"

Jason shakes his head. "She's fine, it won't be necessary."

"No, I wasn't offering." Cady's voice is an unfamiliar cold. "I'll take Janis."

I stand up and make my way closer to Aaron as Cady takes Janis away from Jason. "Now, what the fuck is going on.

"Literally nothing, we're just talking and-"

"No! He's a fucking asshole and he-"

"Regina, what did I ever do to you?!"

"Are you kidding me?!" 

Cady looks between us nervously. "Uh, Aaron? Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Gladly."

Cady steps over, picking both Aaron and I up. My mouth is still open from shock. 

What did I ever do to you?!

Fucking bitch, want me to list it?

"So uh," Aaron starts nervously. Cady cups her hands so I'm next to Janis who looks like she's beginning to stir but uh- I've never been suffocated before, maybe she's just sleeping at this point.

But she's breathing. It's reassuring enough for me.

"It started a couple months ago." Aaron continues. "Jason actually isnt very nice? To the tinies at least." He laughs nervously, leaning closer into Cady's hand and away from Jason, who isn't bothering to keep the nice facade up anymore. "He's actually like- Shane Omen but worse?"

"Worse?" Cady's jaw drops slightly in disbelief. 

"I mean- he held Janis so tight that she passed out so I'd fucking say so." I snark. 

Aaron nods. "Yeah, heh- like, I dunno. Just- not nice? He uh, flicked Regina, which is why she was laying down when you walked over. And like its not the first time he's done this? Especially when we're alone."

There's an unreadable look on Cady's face as she looks up to Jason.

It almost scares me.

"I'm gonna walk away. Just-" Cady gives a low laugh. "Jesus, I almost feel sorry for you, Jason. You deserve everything coming to you. Starting with Gretchen and Damian when they find out."

Despite everything, I can't help but smile at the way Jason's face falls with realization.

It's not a big secret that Gretchen loves an excuse to slap someone.

And this is hell of an excuse.

I look at Janis who is still laying next to me, breathing shallowly. 

We might have to bail Damian out of fucking jail.

Cady turns on her heels without saying another word to Jason and walks down the halls. Once he is out of earshot she looks down at us. "How long?!"

Aaron shrugs. "Since Gretchen first met Jason."

"That's like three months guys!" Cady looks genuinely heartbroken. "I can't believe we didn't notice."

Janis stirs next to me, weakly propping herself up. "Huh?"

There are tears in Cady's eyes as she stops walking. "You guy have been enduring this for three months?"

"No," I say. "Well- yes but not really. It was a build-up. He didn't just start attacking us to the point of death one random day. It started with little things. Like pushing us around and knocking us over."

"That shouldn't happen anyway!" Cady says sadly.

"But it did," Janis mumbled. She seems to have caught onto whats going on. "My chest hurts."

"I'm so sorry you guys," Cady whispers sadly. "I- how did we not notice?"

"Not notice what?"

I turn around to see Karen and Damian walking over. For a second my eyes trail behind them in search of Gretchen but- she went home. Of course.

"Cady, are you crying?" Damian asks, instantly worried. "Is everything okay? Where's Janis?"

"Right here, dude." Janis mumbles. She's looking down at her lap, her arms wrapped loosely around herself. She's still wheezing slightly and tears threaten to spill over her eyes. I don't blame her. That was almost death.

Janis almost died.

My breath hitches at the realization.

As a tiny, you almost die a lot. But- it's accidental. It's falling or almost being crushed. Never malicious actions of bigger peers. 

Cady offers her hands out and I step backward, letting Damian gently scoop up Janis. 

 "What happened?" Karen asks, peering over Damian's shoulder at Janis.

I look back to Cady trying to figure out if she's gonna talk or if Aaron and I have to explain. She's staring at Karen with a crestfallen gaze, tear tracks down her face. "Guys-" She starts. 

I know this is hard for her because she's taking it personally and blaming herself, but we really don't need the fanfare. 

Not that I'm gonna step up and tell the story. 

Karen steps towards picking up me and Aaron. Cady doesn't fight it, she just lets her hands fall to her side. "Y'know, Jason?"

"Yeah of course. Smile emoji." Karen says from above me.

I look over to Janis, who has her arm around Damain's finger. She's doing pretty well for passing out. God knows I'd be sobbing if that were me. Hell, the ache in my side is enough to make me want to cry right now.

"Not smiley face emoji, Karen," Cady explains softly. "I don't know the full thing, you're gonna have to ask the tinies but-"

Cady explains what she walked over to see and the minimal information she got out of us earlier. She left out a lot, but she didn't know a lot to be fair. The look of utter horror on our friend's faces almost made me feel bad. We barely scraped the top layer.

Damian is looking down at the girl in his hands who at some point in the bad retelling started crying again. Karen had held Aaron and I even closer and Cady looked ready to sit down and cry. Me too, Cady.  

"Three months?" Damian whispers weakly. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why would you believe us? Jason's fucking great." Janis said bitterly, still clinging to his finger.

"Of course we would believe you, Jan."

"Gretchen didn't." I say softly.

I didn't really think about what I was saying. I was just mumbling to myself. But Karen heard. 

"You told her?"

I shrug. "Tried to. She didn't listen."

"Well, she's gonna listen when we tell her tomorrow," Cady says. "I can't believe you didn't tell us."

I shrug dismissively, not wanting to talk about it. "It's not a big deal."

I didn't mean it. Of course, it's a big deal. But I said it wasn't anyway. 

"You're telling me Janis almost died today and it's not the first time you guys have been through something like that, but don't worry it's not a big deal?!"

I pause, looking at the three giants. This was Aaron, Janis and I's normal. It's what we went through every day. Yeah, it's shitty but we're used to it. I forget sometimes the giants don't understand the fact not getting shoved around is normal for us. Being threatened and made fun of for our size is just part of an average day.

"Can we continue this with Gretchen at lunch tomorrow? I don't want this conversation twice. I feel even crappier than I already did before and I just want to sleep." Janis speaks up from where Damian held her protectively close. 

"You all better tell us everything tomorrow." Cady says. 

"Cady are you taking Aaron or should I get these two home?" Karen asks.

-

"This was a really funny joke guys." Gretchen says from above me. Despite her words, her voice is void of all amusement.

"Yes, because we're the type to make jokes about our tiny friends almost dying." Damian deadpans. Janis is sitting on the table in front of him looking like she'd rather talk about anything other than this.

I don't blame her.

But this could finally be my chance to get Gretchen to listen and believe me.

"Gretchen." I turn around to look up at her, but I'm on the table I need to crane my neck. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you have to believe us. Cady witnessed it with her own eyes if you don't believe me. Janis sure as hell can vouch since she nearly fucking died yesterday."

Gretchen doesn't respond for a long time. I feel like I can see the seed of doubt settle in on the situation. She reaches forward, scooping me up and bringing me to her shoulder. 

"I- I'm not sure what to believe," She admits. "but I'll listen. I'm sorry I didn't do that before."

That one sentence felt like so much weight being lifted. Jason had Gretchen around her finger. His word was law and everyone else could fuck themself.

But not anymore.

I open my mouth to speak but get cut off by a familiar and unwelcoming voice.

"Hello everyone!"

Cady's eyes widen in disbelief. "You aren't actually stupid enough to think about sitting with us today, right Jason?"

"Aw, why not?" He asks, sitting next to Gretchen and slinging his arm over her shoulder.

I gasp as I'm knocked forward, gripping onto Gretchen's shirt underneath me as I try to stay on. 

Gretchen bats Jason's arm away and scoops me up. "Jason we were talking about something private maybe it's better you join us again later."

Jason's eyes narrowed, as he looked across the table. I sunk lower in Gretchen's hand as his eyes landed on me but he moved on without trying anything. I mean- obviously, Gretchen was right here but still. 

Cady's hand was resting wearily by Aaron if Jason tried something and Janis had been transported to Damian's pocket when I wasn't looking. How could Gretchen not pick up on how stressed we all are?

"What's wrong?" Jason asked, turning to Gretchen.

"It's nothing for you to worry about. I just-"

"Did I do something wrong?" Jason's face fell and I almost felt bad for him. Almost. He should pursue an acting career.

Gretchen looked at loss for what to say for a second before speaking up. "Where were you yesterday after school?"

Jason scoffed. "Whatever Cady said was a lie, Gretch."

"I-" Gretchen froze. "I didn't mention Cady."

Jason's eyes widened as he began to backtrack but- it was too late. 

"Jason I need you to leave, please." Gretchen's hand was shaking as she placed me gently on the table. "There are some things I need to rethink."

"You really believe those tinies?" Jason's face morphed into utter disgust.

The mask was off, the act was over. Karen reached over, tugging me away from Gretchen and Jason and closer to her. 

"I should have believed them a while ago, apparently." Gretchen snapped.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Please. They're just tinies. What makes them so trustworthy? Actually- what makes them worthy?"

Karen lets out a legitimate gasp from above me. Gretchen looks to me with an expression I can't read. My breath feels caught in my throat. I can't shake the feeling that this may be where I lose my best friend. 

But she looks back at Jason. "I can't believe you really just asked that. Did you think that would help your point? What made you think- oh this will totally get Gretchen on my side? What is wrong with you?"

Jason looks dumbfounded at Gretchen's outburst. "Gretchen-"

I knew it was coming, so it was no surprise as Gretchen raises her arm, and a loud smack echos through the cafeteria over all the oblivious conversations. Jason gasps, his hand shooting up to his cheek. "You fucking bitch-"

"You have treated my friends awfully for too long. Go fuck off and find somewhere else to sit for lunch." Gretchen says simply, turning away from Jason.

Jason doesn't say anything as he looks across the table one last time. Aaron was still on the table but Cady had her hand cupped around him defensively, Damian's hand rested over his chest pocket and Janis gripped onto his finger. Karen had pulled against her arm where I sat pushed away as far away from Jason as possible. It was pretty clear he wasn't wanted here.

"Whatever." He bitterly admits defeat, pushing away from the table and walking away. Gretchen watched him leave before turning to me, wide-eyed.

"I can't believe I didn't believe you." She said sadly. "I can't believe I didn't believe any of you." I hold my arms out and Gretche complies, reaching over to scoop me up. "Regina, I'm so sorry."

I don't try and stop the tears that burn in my eyes as Gretchen holds me close to her.

We still have a lot to talk about after this but-

I've finally won after a long and painful battle. All our giants are awake and no longer oblivious to the suffering. 

I'm safe.

I cling to Gretchens's shirt as the tears poor over my eyes. Gretchen shakes and I realize- she's crying too.

I wouldn't be surprised if I turned around and the whole table was.

Jason was an asshole. He manipulated his way into the friend group and made my life miserable. Plus Janis and Aaron too, I guess. But he's gone now.

We don't have to worry anymore.

We're okay.

It will be okay.

2.5/10 not my best work but fun to write @realmisspolarbear @smallsoysauce @musicallygt

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 4

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark

When she was younger, Penny could remember her mother blaming little problems around the house on trolls. She said they were little gremlin like creatures that crept around in the dark and sabotaged things just enough to be inconvenient. Whenever Penny forgot something stupid, or worse, something important, she blamed the trolls. Forgetting her purse? The trolls. Forgetting to turn off the lights when she left the apartment? The trolls. Forgetting to make a to-do list? Trolls, obviously.

The latter, of course, was the worst. Forgetting to do things was annoying, but forgetting to do them even though you’d thought about making a to-do list and then just didn’t? A nightmare. Fucking trolls.

Penny had left the apartment with all the necessities; shoes, purse, phone, keys. She had a plan in mind that started with an outrageously expensive coffee and ended with a haircut. She knew what her plan was, had everything she needed. And that’s why she blamed trolls for the way her morning went.

When she got in line to get her coffee, she dug into her purse only to find that her wallet wasn’t in it. Which was ridiculous, because her wallet was always in her purse. She never took it out at home. The only options were that A. Peter took it (a joke) or B. She had been pickpocketed on the subway. Her head dropped back on her shoulders and she groaned loudly, ignoring the looks from the hipsters surrounding her.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

Penny startled slightly and turned, not expecting a voice to come from quite so close behind her. The coffee shop was super busy, she shouldn’t have been so shocked that the patron behind her was so close, but it still startled her to nearly bump her nose on the man’s chest. She rocked back on her heel in surprise, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for the man reaching out and steadying her by the shoulders.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His hands were fucking huge. They covered her shoulders entirely and curled down towards her shoulder blades, his grip tight enough to keep her on her feet but not bruising.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m,” she gulped slightly and shook her head, “sorry, I’m fine, just a drama queen I guess.”

“Are you sure? You seemed bothered by something before I scared you.”

Penny gave a small shrug and sighed with a self-deprecating smile on her face, “I think I was pickpocketed on the subway, my wallet’s gone. Should’ve been paying more attention I guess.”

She needed to get back home and call the bank, her debit card and credit card were in that wallet. And her driver’s license too, which meant a trip to the DMV. Was it even worth it to get a new one at this point? She literally planned to be in jail (prison?) by the end of the week.

“That’s horrible,” the frown on the man’s face didn’t do anything to mar how stupidly beautiful he was, “let me buy your coffee.”

“What? Oh my God, no, you don’t have to do that!” Penny had forgotten that his hands were still on her shoulders until she lifted her arms to wave off his concern, accidentally bumping against his elbows.

“Please, I’d like to,” he moved his arms, only to grab her flailing hands for just a moment before letting them go and moving to stand at her side rather than behind her, “my boyfriend should be showing up any moment and he’d skin me if I didn’t pay for you.”

She momentarily considered that Fuck All the Good Ones Really Are Gay right before relief filled her. Ever since the incident with Brock, men showing any amount of interest in her gave her goosebumps. Having a boyfriend meant that this one at least couldn’t have any ulterior motives, he was literally just being a good person. A genuine smile crossed her face at the realization.

“I guess it would be in bad taste for me to say no then, I wouldn’t want your boyfriend to skin you alive.”

“Alive?” The blond beside her laughed, a bone achingly deep and attractive laugh, “I want to point out that you escalated that, I assumed I would be dead before he skinned me.”

“Why am I skinning you, alive or dead?”

The man who appeared was definitely on par with the Adonis she’d already been speaking to. Standing next to each other, it was like looking at the cover of Men’s Fitness. He was tall and tan and built like a fucking tank, his shoulders looked so broad she wondered how he fit through doorways. Both of them, actually, how did either of them fit through doorways with shoulders wider than most people’s arm spans? Okay, that was an exaggeration but Penny was just about floored by how freaking attractive they both were.

“For not offering to pay for her coffee after she got her wallet stolen,” the blond responded with a grin, leaning over slightly to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek.

“You get mugged, sweetheart?” The frown on the brunet’s face was a goddamn crime and Penny quickly shook her head.

“No, no! Just pickpocketed, I think. Probably on the subway, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should’ve been. It’s really not a big deal, I didn’t have any cash on me and I’ll just have my cards cancelled,” she gave a shrug and moved forward with the line, trying to pretend she wasn’t actually super upset over having to deal with yet another heap of bullshit.

“Well, Stevie’s right anyway, I’d skin him for not buying you a coffee. Are you traumatized doll? I’ll make him spring for a scone too.” Did he just wink at her? Penny’s told her heart not to stutter like that, he had a boyfriend for fuck’s sake.

“I don’t think I’m traumatized,” Penny turned big, brown eyes on the blond and tilted her head down for effect, “but I might be a little shaken, like enough for a cake pop.”

She didn’t notice the way both of them gripped each other’s waists, as if having to hold each other up under the onslaught of her puppy dog eyes, or the way that the brunet pinched his boyfriend’s side to keep him from offering her the entire world on a platter if she asked for it.

“A cake pop it is, sweetheart,” Stevie (Steve, Penny she supposed she should probably call him) gave her a nearly blinding grin and she had to stop herself from taking a step back in awe, “What’ll you have to drink?”

“A vanilla latte? Please,” she cleared her throat slightly, “Steve, was it? And you are?”

“Call me Bucky,” the brunet held his hand out for her to take and she hesitated for only a second, reminding herself again that they were gay, gay, gay before she shook it, “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“I’m Penny, thank you guys for being so kind,” they’d made it to the register and she stepped aside slightly so that Steve could center himself in front of the barista.

“Large black coffee, large white mocha, and a large vanilla latte please,” he ordered politely, before putting his arm around Penny’s shoulder and nudging her towards the dessert display, “Which cake pop did you want doll?”

Penny had to literally reign herself in under the weight of his arm, to not go stiff in fear or swoon at the feeling, “t-the, uhm, chocolate one, please.”

“And a chocolate cake pop,” Steve directed the barista with a smile.

“And a blueberry scone,” Bucky interrupted, jabbing his finger at the case, “And one of those giant chocolate chip cookies.”

The barista glanced at Steve for confirmation, who just nodded in response and held out a matte black credit card, “you two go sit, I’ll bring everything out once it’s done.”

“Ah finally, let’s ditch this punk, sweetheart,” Bucky snatched Penny’s hand and tugged her away from the line, heading for a table in the corner that was recently vacated.

She just barely heard Steve scoff before they got too far away, letting Bucky pull out her chair before sitting down. It vaguely registered in the back of her mind that this was the most bizarrely pleasant situation she’d ever been in. Considering the amount of shit she dealt with on a regular basis, it was a breath of fresh air. It was kind of a shame she hadn’t met the pair of them before she’d started actively planning how to get thrown in jail.  

“I think Stevie made a mistake,” Bucky snorted, breaking her from her thoughts and drawing her attention to Steve, who was fumbling with three coffees and several pastries.

The squeaking noise she made upon standing to go help was not deliberate and actually kind of embarrassing. She was pretty sure Bucky laughed at it as she walked away, quickly stealing one of the coffees and two of the pastry bags from Steve’s hands.

“Thanks doll, nice to know one of you has some manners,” Steve shot his boyfriend a look as he and Penny sat down, winking at the brunet when she wasn’t looking.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re so good looking or I wouldn’t put up with this kind of BS,” Bucky stated casually, reaching over to snatch his mocha from Steve’s grasp.

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t reply to his boyfriend, “so, Penny, what do you do?”

The casual opening for conversation made Penny immediately uncomfortable and she shifted in her seat as he passed over her coffee and cake pop, “oh, lots of things. Barista, day care, that sort of stuff.”

“Day care, huh? You a kid person?” Bucky asked as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly as he burnt his tongue, “that shit’s hot, watch your tongue, doll.”

Penny shifted the cup between her hands carefully but avoided drinking any, “Kids are precious. Annoying as all Hell sometimes, but I do like working with them. I’m usually with the infants anyway, toddlers occasionally. At that age they’re just cute.”

“We never been around kids too much,” Bucky shoved almost half of the blueberry scone into his mouth in one go, mumbling something around the bite immediately after.

Steve rolled his eyes and reached across the table from his place next to Penny, pulling the scone away and replacing it with a napkin, “manners, jerk. I think he was saying we’ve only been around older kids.”

Bucky nodded in response, picking up the napkin to wipe his face before gesturing for the rest of the scone. Instead of giving it back, Steve pushed it in front of Penny before resting his arm over the back of her chair.

“Let Penny have some before you murder the rest of it, Buck,” the blond admonished, “have at, sweetheart.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t need any,” she shook her head and pushed the bag over to Bucky, “thank you though.”

“Nah doll, you eat the rest of this, I’m gonna hit this cookie.”

He repeated the process of sticking at least 50% of the cookie into his mouth in one go, chewing obnoxiously while Steve dropped his face into his hands in embarrassment.

“You’re a nightmare, I can’t believe I bring you out in public.”

Penny laughed happily at their exchange, enjoying the casual friendliness. She got so wrapped up in the whole experience that by the time she noticed the clock, two hours had gone by.

“Oh shit! I’ve got so much to do today and—crap, I’ve gotta go home so I can cancel my credit cards,” she slapped a hand against her forehead, finally remembering that she was busy today. A lot of planning went into getting put in jail for child neglect and she was dropping the ball.

“Here doll, you can borrow my phone to cancel your cards,” Steve started digging into his pocket but Penny waved him off.

“I have a phone, I just have to get on my computer to look up the numbers to call,” she stood up, shoving her hand into her purse to grab her phone, only to freeze.

Her fucking wallet was in her purse. A deep red blush spread over her cheeks and down her neck. It would’ve been one thing to have missed that her wallet was in her purse, but Steve had gone out of his way to pay for her coffee. Embarrassment coursed through her.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweetheart?” Bucky stood from his seat, hand coming to rest on her shoulder as he curled his shoulders down, making her feel engulfed by his presence.

“I,” she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, “I’m so embarrassed. I just found my wallet, it was in my purse, I swear I wasn’t trying to scam you— it wasn’t in there, I know it wasn’t but now it is and I—”

“Calm down, sweetheart, its alright,” she’d been drawn in to an all-encompassing hug before she really knew what was happening, pressed tightly to Bucky’s chest with his hand gently stroking the back of her head, “we don’t think you scammed us, it was an honest mistake. We’re just glad you didn’t get robbed, right Stevie?”

“Absolutely, doll, I’m glad you found it,” Steve had stood up as well and was standing just beside the pair, close enough that she could feel his body radiating heat, “don’t be embarrassed, things like that happen.”

Tears were welling in Penny’s eyes; how the fuck had she come across such nice, kind people at such a time in her life, “sorry, I don’t mean to be so emotional. Just having a rough go of things, I guess. Look, I really do need to get going. Thank you both so much for being so nice.”

“You don’t have to thank us for being nice,” the blond gave a small grin, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder from where she was still wrapped in Bucky’s arms, “How about we get your phone number before you leave? We’d love to have you over for dinner some time.”

Penny hesitated for a moment as they both reached for their phones; what was the point of giving them her contact information? Her days of freedom were shortly numbered, if they tried to call her they’d think she was ignoring them when she never answered. But still, what was the harm— she’d never see them again most likely. Even when she got out of jail she’d have a record of child abuse and who the fuck wanted to be friends with a child abuser?

She quickly punched her number into their phones and waited for each of them to call her cell so she’d have theirs, “well, it was great meeting you guys! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Are you going somewhere nearby?” Steve gave a wide smile as he stepped a bit closer, sweeping his arm between himself and Bucky, “we’d be happy to walk you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Penny shook her head, distracted enough by the phone in her hand and the text message she’d gotten from Peter at some point during their conversation that she didn’t notice the way Steve’s smile tightened, “I’m just going to the salon to get my hair done.”

“We’ll walk you doll,” Bucky’s grin was as charming as the rest of him and she tried not to swoon, “You can tell us who you’re so excited to hear from on the way.”

“Excited to hear from?” She frowned in confusion before the brunet gestured to her phone, “Oh! Just my little brother, he got a 100% on his chem test, highest grade in the class.”

“That’s wonderful, must be a real smart kid,” The expression on Steve’s face was soft and fond as he led them out the door, and Penny wondered if he was thinking of his own little sibling from the proud glint in his eye.

“Peter’s a genius, we always joke that when I was born I took all the chaos and left him all the IQ points,” she flipped her pay-as-you-go phone back open as she received another text from the kid in question, “although with how often he gets his ass beat at school maybe he did get a bit of chaos too. I should’ve taught him to fight but he’s scrawny and I always worried he’d break his wrist trying to punch someone.”

“He gets beat up a lot?” She didn’t look up from her phone, too busy replying to Peter to catch the furious expressions the boyfriends exchanged over her head as they continued down the street.

“Nerd on nerd violence is surprisingly common,” Penny pursed her lips and waved her hand flippantly, “and he doesn’t get beat up anymore. I paid this girl in his grade to beat up his main bully when they were in freshman year and then Peter became friends with her, so he doesn’t get messed with too much anymore. I guess Flash was just super pissed Peter got a better grade in chem this time around,” a careful shrug came as she opened a new text message, “MJ will take care of it. I can’t beat up minors anymore.”

“You paid a girl to beat a kid up?” There was a disapproving tone in Steve’s voice and Penny immediately stopped walking and texting, looking up at the blond with a scowl.

“If it laid hands on the kid they’d of slapped me with a lawsuit and taken Peter away. He was too small to fight for himself, so yea, I paid one of his classmates to beat the shit out of the boy who sent him home with a black eye and bruised ribs. And I’m not ashamed of it either, that little asshole deserved what he got,” she jabbed her finger at his chest and left it there forcefully, “If I could’ve beaten the shit out of that little punk for what he’d done, I would’ve in a heartbeat. MJ was my next best option. If you’ve got a problem with how I take care of my little brother, you can get fucked because I couldn’t care less what some stranger thinks of—”

“Hey, hey, doll,” Bucky quickly stepped in, cutting her off and gently taking her wrist to pull her hand away from Steve’s chest, “I’m sorry my man put his foot in it. He’s a dumbass, doesn’t think before he speaks and certainly doesn’t consider the impact of his words. Steve, apologize.”

Penny pulled her hand away from the brunet and lifted both in a placating gesture, “I’m not interested in an apology, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve really got to get going.”

“Wait!” Before she really knew what was happening, Steve had grabbed both her arms and stepped into her space, holding her tightly in place, “please wait, Penny, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she tried to pull her arms back but he held firm, keeping her far closer than she was comfortable with, “let go of me, please.”

“You take great care of your brother, Penny, I shouldn’t have judged how you decide to do that.”

Bucky came up right behind, boxing her in between the pair and put his arms on her shoulders when she tried to pull back again, “hey, calm down sweetheart, don’t get upset.”

“Get off me! Both of you!” A spark of panic was starting to shoot through her, voice rising as she yanked hard on her hands and bumped roughly back against Bucky, “Get the fuck off!”

“Hey, what’s going on over here?!” Penny’s head snapped to the left to see a little old lady barging her way through the crowd, garnering the attention of several other people on the way, “you let her go, right now!”

Bucky and Steve pulled away like they’d been burned, both with placating, placid looks on their faces. Penny didn’t stick around to see if they could talk their way out of the situation, taking off down the street in a dead run. They were so fucking charming, so handsome they could probably talk their way out of a paper bag. She continued straight passed the salon she’d planned to stop at and kept running until she couldn’t anymore. Her breath came in exhausting pants and she bent over, holding her chest.

What the fuck, how could such a pleasant morning go so badly so fast? Bucky and Steve had seemed so nice and then out of nowhere thought they could manhandle her however they pleased. She could still feel Steve’s hands circling her wrists, Bucky’s pressing down on her shoulders and her back against his chest. The sensation of being held down hadn’t just been terrifying but had brought back brutal memories of being assaulted.

Just like when she’d been attacked, fury pumped through her veins. Those assholes, those fucking assholes. Penny found herself heading down to the closest subway station and getting on the train towards home. Fuck the salon, fuck getting her nails done, all she wanted to do was crawl into Peter’s bed and hide under the covers. It was easy to forget about everything she had to do that day in the wake of her panic.

Peter was still texting her, she could feel her cell phone vibrating inside of her purse as she boarded the subway and sat down heavily. She’d been out of the apartment for hours, accomplished nothing, and was thoroughly exhausted. Her head dropped back against the window and she clenched her eyes shut. The blows just kept coming. What a nightmare.

[silveraccent]

Running From The Pasta || Grace & Connor

TIMING: After this solo, a week or so ago. PARTIES: @connorspiracy SUMMARY: Grace and Connor run into one another while Grace is covered in pasta sauce. They run into some rancid ghost vibes and make a break for it, but not until they reveal a bit of their traumas to each other. TRIGGER: Death, blood, minor car accident. 

Grace wasn’t sure what she saw. It couldn’t have been Renee. She wouldn’t let herself believe that it was. That was something else, bent and broken-- years of distance put between them, albeit forced, unnecessary, heart breaking. The farther she ran, the more angry she felt. What kind of cruel trick? Grace finally found it in herself to stop running, to sit at a bench, faded greens and silvers, the paint having been chipped away by years of wear and tear. The sky was still a deep violet, and the fog made it hard for her to see beyond five feet. It hung in the air, and Grace swore it would swallow her whole. She hung her head in her hands, the heels of her hands digging into her eyes. The smell of pasta sauce burned her nose, and made her feel sick. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back against the bench and stared up at the sky before she rounded her gaze to land on somebody-- a familiar face that she had seen online. “Connor, right?” She called to him as she glanced at the camera in his hand. “Are you filming this?” Though, could she blame him? It was unbelievable, the way the town looked right now. 

Strange things happening in White Crest was the norm. So much so that Connor wondered if they could even be called strange at all. Regardless, it was always a little alarming when a terrified girl covered in a sticky red substance runs past you, seemingly holding back sobs of fear. He followed a few steps as she half-collapsed on a bench, only realising when she pointed it out that he was still holding his camera. “I was filming the fog.” He closed his lens cap, crouching near her to get a better look. Now that he was closer, he could smell the overwhelming and almost putrid scent of tomato. At least it wasn’t blood. “I thought you were bleeding. Are you okay?” 

“The fog. Right.” Grace dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, a move to make what she had seen flit from her vision. She still couldn’t believe her eyes. She bit back another whimper mixed with tears as she looked up at him. “I’m not bleeding, no…” She looked down at her hands and wiped them against her pants, tomato sauce seen despite the dark clothes. “It’s pasta sauce.” She laughed, and she realized how stupid she now sounded. “I’m fine, I just… dropped something and it scared the shit out of me.” She looked up to meet Connor’s gaze. “I look weird, right? I mean, I’d prefer people think I’m running around covered in blood, not pasta sauce, because…” she trailed off. 

“Whoa, whoa, it’s alright, love. Slow down.” Connor stepped closer to her, taking a seat next to her on the bench. “Sort of puts all the weird shit in perspective when someone tells you they’d rather be covered in blood than pasta sauce,” he said with a slight chuckle, just trying to make light of a weird, difficult situation. “I think I have an overnight bag with some spare clothes in the car, if you wanna change…” He did his best to not make that sound creepy. “People have been talking about all sorts of weird things popping up and scaring them recently. If it helps, you’re not alone.” 

“Does it?” Grace let out a shaky laugh. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. The joke would go over the heads of most. She leaned into the bench and looked over at him, her eyebrows pulled up at his words. “Am I not? Did something happen to you?” Grace looked down at her bag, its usual tan fabric now smeared red. She frowned slightly. She could still feel the burn in her eyes from her crying fit, but Connor’s general concerned nature overlapped her fear, and she let it. “I think I’ll take you up on the clothes change,” Grace nodded slowly. They’d be big on her, but she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She could go to the office, maybe. Sleep on her floor. She had an extra pair of clothes there. “If it’s okay.” She looked back over at him and offered a smile, though she wasn’t sure if it was genuine. 

“I mean, most people would just pick the other option, I think,” Connor answered with a little chuckle. He could tell this poor girl was really shaken up. “Come on.” He gestured for her to follow, leading her to his car, a spacious Land Rover Discovery. Luckily, he always had everything on-hand that he might need if he decided to have an overnight shoot, towels, dry shampoo, baby wipes, and spare clothes. He was a smaller guy, so the clothing wouldn’t be too out of place on her. “I usually lay the back seats down flat if I’m not driving with anyone so I can have all my equipment there, so there should be plenty of room.” He unlocked the car, handing her anything he thought might be useful, then closed the door most of the way and turned his back so she could change comfortably. “So… what happened, anyway?” 

Grace followed him reluctantly. At this point, she’s not sure if she’s stupid for trusting strangers, or if she has the ability to tell if somebody genuinely means her harm. It didn’t seem like he did. As they approached his car, she raised an eyebrow. It was nicer than anything she had ever owned. Youtube must have paid nicely, or maybe he was a rich kid with a dream. She glanced over at him for a moment, then looked down as he began handing over the things that she needed to successfully get rid of her tomato sodden clothes. “Oh, thanks.” She gave him a meek smile, her eyes still burning. She slid into the car and did her best to clean herself up. “Uh…” Grace mumbled as she pulled his shirt over her head. “You know all this fog? I think it’s doing something weird to my head.” Grace wanted to tell him more, but she was hesitant. He seemed to know a lot already. Once she was finished cleaning up, she slid out of the car, her dirty clothes crumpled into her tote bag. She tucked it to her chest and offered him a smile. “I saw an old friend who I shouldn’t have seen,” Grace said after a moment as she lowered her bag to her waistline, not wanting to smell anymore of the tomato sauce. 

Connor was respectful. He kept his back turned and made sure to give her plenty of room so she could change in private and not feel as if he was hovering over her shoulder. It was probably a little weird, inviting someone he didn’t know back to her car. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d turned him down. “Like, making you see things?” She wasn’t the first person to have said something like that. Some of his regular ghosts had reported being able to be seen by all kinds of people, then there had been the Fog Fish he’d seen with Ariana. “This might be a bit personal,” he started. “But the old friend. Is she… dead?” 

“Yeah, making me see things,” Grace said after a moment. She wasn’t sure what she saw, but she knew how it made her feel. Terrified, distraught, angry. She held the bag closer to her stomach, using it as a comfort item. She looked at him warily as he asked his question. Of course he knew, it was what his entire youtube channel was about. She cleared her throat and nodded. “Yeah, she is. Has been for awhile, so why--” Grace stopped for a moment. She didn’t want to ask why Renee would still be hanging around, or if whatever was happening in White Crest just.. No, there was no explanation. “Do you know what’s going on?” Grace asked him after a pregnant pause. “The truth, if you have it.” 

“I think we’re all seeing things.” In the distance, Connor heard the galloping of horses hooves. He lifted his head to see what looked strangely like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse run through a nearby intersection, chasing down some poor bastard on a bicycle. “Ghosts, non-ghosts, other weird shit…” He shook his head. “Isn’t that just another day in White Crest? I don’t know what’s causing it, but I know it’s not just you.” 

Grace looked up just in time to see the headless horseman. Grace’s eyebrows pulled together. That couldn’t be real, right? “That…” Grace bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to believe it, that way it’d be easier. Things would be easier if she didn’t second guess it-- there was so much evidence already that this was all real. She swallowed thickly. “I guess you’re right, it’s everyone.” It was obvious that everyone had been dealing with their own issues, that they were being chased by what seemed to be their own fears. “Have you seen anything that’s for you?” She asked as she cut her gaze away from the horse. 

Connor couldn’t help but stare. Fortunately, the horses kept going, right on past the intersection, continuing to chase the person on the bike. He cleared his throat, swallowing the large lump that resided there. “Me?” He looked at her a little dumbly, as if he didn’t understand the question. “No, no. What would I possibly have to see?” And of course, fate saw fit to answer that question for him. 

“Connor! Con-man, you little bastard,” an older man with an almost indiscernible accent called from across the street, and Connor’s eyes widened. Uncle Joe. Wielding a massive fucking baseball bat. “You exorcised me? You really fucking exorcised me, you little shit? I oughta beat you black and blue.” 

“Get in the car!” He half-shoved Grace inside, pulling the doors shut and hitting the lock button as quickly as he could. Uncle Joe was fighting his way through traffic to cross the road and get to them, and glass shattered, filling the vehicle as Connor pulled away from the curb. “Shit! Are you okay?!” 

Things seemed to be changing quickly. Grace wasn’t sure if she was allowing for Connor’s inquisitive nature to rub off on her or not, but Renee was half-forgotten. Maybe it was the fact that she changed her clothes. Grace quirked an eyebrow and simply nodded. She wasn’t sure if she’d like somebody poking into what she had seen, though she had already opened up to it. Grace turned at the sound of yelling, however, and her eyes widened at the sight of a ghostly man, baseball bat in his hands. “Uh--” Grace said under her breath, but before she could react, Connor was pushing her into his car. She obediently followed his directions and threw herself into the seat, her bag falling to the floor of the car. “I’m fine--” Grace held onto the edge of her seat. “You said you didn’t have anything to see, I’m taking that wasn’t true?” She asked as she turned in her seat to look behind her as the ghost ran after them, yelling words she couldn’t quite hear.

“Well, I didn’t think I did have anything to see!” Bloody America and their cars on the wrong side of the road. Connor was still getting used to it at the best of times, never mind when he was trying to drive through thick fog with a spirit chasing him. “Fuck sake.” He narrowly dodged another vehicle whose fog lights seemed to be failing, and he prayed for his own to hold on. A gaggle of zoo animals seemed to have escaped and were having their own little fucking circus at the interchange, and Uncle Joe was still waving his baseball bat, chasing Connor at an impossible speed for someone on foot. “I hope your fucking seatbelt is on.” He took another turn, way too harshly. “It’s my Uncle. I exorcised him. Obviously he isn’t happy about it.”

Grace stared ahead, her heart in her throat. She had wanted quiet when she moved to White Crest. Not whatever this was. She could feel fear from Connor, maybe something else, too. Grace let out a yelp as a vehicle swerved towards them, but Connor was able to avoid it. “What in the hell--” Grace twisted to look out the side window, eyes widened at the sight of the animals. Her seatbelt wasn’t on. Grace quickly clicked it over her chest and held onto it tightly. “Obviously not.” Grace let out a breath as she braced herself, half-expecting the ghostly pack of wolves to interfere with them as they drove forward, but it went through the car and they continued on their way. “How are we going to get away from that?” Grace asked as she looked in the side mirror. Her voice sounded entirely too calm for what was currently happening. 

“Fuck! Bloody fucking hell--” Connor didn’t know where the hell he was going. He just knew that they had to get the hell out of there. He took another turn, as if randomly changing directions would confuse the spirit. He didn’t exactly want to lead Uncle Joe home, but that was the only place he could think to go. Grace was right. They couldn’t outrun him. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” Connor mumbled to himself. He closed his eyes, bringing the car to a stop. Uncle Joe swung at the wing mirror, sending it flying in smashed plastic over the side of the road. “You’re not real. And you tried to kill my dad,” he said, staring at the man. “I said I was sorry.” Before the apparition could say anything else, Connor reversed back, just far enough to adjust his angle and open the driver’s side door, smashing it into Uncle Joe’s face and sending him falling in a heap of his own blood. 

“What the fuck, you little bastard!” Uncle Joe gargled through his own blood. “I taught you everything you know. Everything you have is because of me! Your dad abandoned us.” 

“You tried to kill him! You almost broke his neck!” Connor yelled, now clutching the baseball bat Uncle Joe had dropped. This wasn’t fucking real. Uncle Joe was gone, and even if he was still around, no ghost would have that much blood for him to spill. “Now I… am trying… to get this poor girl home,” Connor grunted, collapsing in frustration against a nearby bench. “So would you kindly bugger off?” 

“You’re a little bastard,” Uncle Joe murmured from his position on the concrete, trying to get to his feet. “I never shoulda appeared to you, you know that? Your damn dad and my unfinished business. I shoulda let you think you were a fucking freak.” But he got up and started walking away, and Connor let out a heavy sigh, utterly exhausted.

Grace held onto her seatbelt as Connor came to an abrupt stop. She forced herself back in her seat and turned to watch as the ghost swung his bat, plastic shattering through the air. Grace leaned into her seat, away from the two. She watched in shock and terror as Connor began to speak. Something about his dad, had she heard that right? Grace swallowed thickly and let out a small yelp as she leaned into her own door, the car reversing, and then the car door coming into contact with the man’s face. Grace’s eyes widened at the sight. This couldn’t be real, could it? There was no way-- Connor had just, he had just killed somebody. 

No, she reminded herself. This isn’t real-- it’s real, but he’s not real, he’s already dead. A fear manifested by Connor, that’s how it had been explained. Grace watched as Connor took to a nearby bench. She was unsure of what to do, but the ghost was gone. She tentatively opened the door and rounded the front of the vehicle. “Are you okay?” She asked, voice shaky. 

Connor was barely aware of Grace approaching him, but he looked up as she did. He wasn’t much of a crier, but there were a few tears threatening to make an appearance. He pushed them back, wiping his face with his hands. “Yeah, that was just really bloody weird, you know?” He looked over the wrecked car. “No wonder insurance premiums are so high in this flipping town.” He stood up, climbing back in. “Come on. Doubt anyone’s going to pull me over for a broken mirror with all this shit going on. I’ll take you home.” 

Grace wasn’t sure what to say, she wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure how to address it. She bit the inside of her cheek and simply nodded at his words, not wanting to push it any further. Of course she wanted answers, but things were strange enough without her prompting him for answers that it was quite possible he didn’t have. “Honestly, yeah.” Grace carded her fingers through her hair, her hand shaking slightly. “Probably not,” Grace said after a moment, following him back to the car. Once they were inside, she twisted to put her seatbelt on. A tiger, or maybe it wasn’t a tiger at all-- maybe it was something else, something unseen, began to devour Uncle Joe. Grace straightened forward, her gaze on the road. Maybe she would leave that out. 

[shellygurumi]

@fuckrealityihaveablog said:

Hi! I saw your post about fic requests and I was wondering if you could write something with Kongpob being insecure about his and Arthit’s relationship? Just whenever you get the chance 😊 Thanks!

A wild fic request appears! It would be my pleasure. :)

Arthit snapped at Kong one too many times lately. They had been together for over a year now, and while practically everyone in the engineering faculty knew they were a couple, the safety of campus was just a small part of Bangkok. When they were out in public, at a restaurant or shopping, Arthit still got shy and uncomfortable with physical affection.

Kong just got too used to being able to get away with things sometimes, too, and he would lose himself and hug onto Arthit’s arm at the mall, or start flirting and grinning at a restaurant, then go in for a kiss. Each time, Arthit cut him off swiftly, stopped him, yanked his arm away or held Kongpob at arm’s length. If Arthit was in a mood, he would scowl and say something mean. Each time, it cut Kongpob deeper than Arthit realized.

Since they met, Kongpob had always been confident, sure of himself, seemingly impervious to anything and everything Arthit could say and do. He had a backbone made of steel and when he was full of conviction, he could stand up to anything. That wasn’t the case when it came to their relationship, though, and that fact seemed to escape Arthit. Kong probably didn’t help matters, because he always wore a brave face. 

He knew Arthit loved him, deep down, he saw it when they were together in private. Arthit had actually softened up a lot since they came out to their friends. They slept over at each other’s rooms as often was reasonable, they kissed and held hands and snuggled. Sometimes Arthit would run his fingers through Kong’s hair while reading a text book. He let Kongpob do sweet things without putting up a fight.

Those were the things Kongpob used to remind himself that Arthit loved him. But recently... recently they hadn’t had as much time together as usual. Exams meant they were both busy with studies. Arthit would be graduating this year and he had a lot going on, trying to make plans for his adult life, trying to get all good grades, trying so hard to be successful. He was under a lot of stress and the best thing Kongpob could do for him was give him time and space, tell him to keep fighting, to study hard, to do his best. 

But Arthit didn’t have time to worry about Kong’s feelings, and so he bottled them up, kept them to himself. Now, he sat in the empty gathering hall. It’s where he always went when he was feeling sad and lonely. Their relationship had so many ups and downs and Kong would fight til the very end to keep it going, but sometimes it seemed like he was the only one fighting for it. He tried to keep thoughts like that at bay, as best he could, but Kong was only human. Sometimes his backbone felt like it was made of chalk, instead of steel or even bone. 

Sometimes toxic little thoughts wormed their way into his head. “Maybe Arthit is too busy for me...” “Maybe I’m holding him back...” “Maybe he doesn’t want me around anymore...” “Maybe I’m forcing him to keep trying when he doesn’t want to...” “Maybe he feels too guilty to just break it off...” 

Kongpob raised both hands to his face, not entirely surprised to find tears there. He quickly wiped them away and took a deep, shaky breath. He couldn’t let those thoughts get the best of him. Shaking his head, as if he could shake those awful thoughts out of it, he took another deep breath. Kong looked down at the floor. He was sitting on the edge of the stage, where Arthit and the other hazing team members had stood last year when Kongpob met him for the first time. Instead of getting lost in awful thoughts, he looked back on those fond memories. 

There was no way to know how much time had past before Kong was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of a door opening behind him. He expected it to be one of this year’s hazing staff but was surprised to see Arthit standing in the doorway. 

“P’Arthit?” He asked and watched as Arthit’s eyes fell on him. Arthit sighed in what looked like relief.

“There you are!” Arthit said, and hurried to Kongpob’s side. “What are you doing here?”

Kong’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Arthit scowled at first, then seemed to notice the redness in Kongpob’s eyes. He softened and took a seat beside Kong, draping an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. Kongpob looked confused. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“For me?” The confusion in Kong’s eyes didn’t abate.

“Yeah. You.” Arthit said like it was obvious, but he squeezed Kong’s shoulder warmly at the same time. “I texted you asking if you wanted to get dinner and you didn’t answer. I thought you were busy, but an hour later you still hadn’t replied. It got late so I called you. And you didn’t answer. I thought something happened to you.” 

“What?” Kong’s eyes went wide. He looked down, searching for his phone. He patted his pockets, but it wasn’t there. Leaning over, he fished the phone out of his bookbag and saw that he had several texts and at least four missed calls from Arthit. He looked back to his boyfriend, “P’Arthit... I’m sorry, I didn’t hear my phone...”

Arthit pressed his lips together and sighed. “I was worried.” Then Arthit’s brows furrowed and he looked concerned. “Are you okay?” 

Kong opened his mouth and started to smile, putting on the act. He drew in a breath and was about to speak when Arthit cut him off.

“Be honest, Kong,” Arthit ordered, but his tone was soft.

Kong frowned and hung his head. “I... I guess not.”

Arthit was quiet for a moment, then pulled Kongpob into a sideways hug, encouraging him to lean against Arthit’s shoulder. He moved his hand to rest atop Kong’s head. “I’ve been mean to you lately...”

“P’...” Kong started to protest.

“Don’t be a hero. I know I have. I’m sorry, Kong.”

“You’ve been stressed...” Kong started the usual excuses.

Arthit turned and kissed the top of Kong’s head, surprising the junior. “Being stressed isn’t an excuse to be mean to you, Kong. I’m sorry.”

Kong raised his arms to hug Arthit loosely about the waist. He spoke softly, “Thank you, P’... You know I forgive you.” 

Arthit nuzzled Kong’s head and sighed. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll get dinner... and you should sleep over tonight.”

Those offers made Kongpob sit up and look at Arthit with wide, excited eyes. “Really?” A smile started to spread across his lips.

Arthit laughed and rolled his eyes, “So childish.” He bopped his nose against Kongpob’s and grinned. “Yes, really.” 

Kongpob gave Arthit one of his big, open-mouthed smiles, his whole face shining brightly. Arthit leaned in and pressed a kiss to Kong’s cheek, then leaned back. “Stop being so cute. Come on.” 

He hopped down off the stage, then reached up to tug at Kong’s hand, urging him to jump down too. Kong quickly grabbed his bookbag and hopped down. Arthit threw his arm over Kong’s shoulders and started to walk him out of the gathering hall. Kong didn’t miss the opportunity to slink his arm around Arthit’s waist and hug him as they walked. He was going to make the absolute most of tonight.

“I love you, P’Arthit.” He kissed Arthit’s cheek. 

“Yeah?” Arthit grinned back at him. “You too.” He kissed Kong’s temple then looked away, smiling shyly. Kongpob was over the moon.