#between this the Oh It’s Hot In Here cell scene / boys night out / and ‘I Appreciate the Offer but Do You Have to Be So Forceful’

[magiefish]

Okay. So. I remembered this one kind of weird part in “Enlightenment” where Turlough tries to sell out the crew and The Doctor just kind of Stares at him the whole time. Like quite intensely. And, as a joke, I said to myself “I wonder how long he actually stares at him without looking at anyone else for” and decided to count it For Fun.

About 34 seconds. 34 seconds straight.

Sir. Sir please direct your big brown eyes somewhere else. Please blink sir. Please. Sir.

[greatunironic]

eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.

so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.

he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.

because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.

eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.

(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)

when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”

then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?

he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.

“you’re alive,” she says.

eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”

“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”

he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.

“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.

“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—

“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”

“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”

“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”

“speaking from experience?”

“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”

“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”

“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”

“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.

the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“

“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”

“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”

“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”

“pick me up in twenty?”

“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.

someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”

with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.

“damn,” he says quietly.

“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.

“how long have you been there?” he asks.

she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”

“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”

“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”

a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.

[yeschefthankyouchef]

hello i’m back it’s been a long 24 hours of me itching to read this chapter🤠

okay uhm WOW. WOWZA. this chapter was so fucking good - the angst, baby and carmy finally finding neutral ground again, the way that you wrote this absolutely batshit insane episode? it was all perfection.

i have my theories about what baby got him for christmas but I AM DYING TO KNOW WHATS IN THE BOX. IS IT KNIVES - DID SHE GET HIM THE KNIFE SET THAT HE USES? only time will tell but i feel like a little kid on christmas looking at all the presents under the tree and wishing i had x ray vision.

▫️▫️▫️

“Exactly, Mikey volunteered to pick my mom and I up from her chemo appointment, and Richie bless his soul was trying to make dinner for us.”

richie🥹🥹 he is such a sweetie and this little tidbit made me giggle so much. baby really had tweedle dee and tweedle dum as pseudo-protective older brothers and i love that for her.

“The laughter in the room took over once again as the two of you imagined how much your mom’s little crush inflated Richie’s ego.”

this is a weird little note but i absolutely love how much you’re building lore into the existing lore of the show, and in a way that doesn’t feel like too much. it feels like a directors cut almost? and i love that so much. i am so high and i feel like i am IN the story right now. (also fuck the haters who don’t like nicknames in x reader fics - i personally love it. i’d rather imagine myself as close enough to the family to have a nickname than disrupt the flow of writing with y/n every five seconds)

“Ahem, yeah…yeah it's a little weird, first Christmas without her and everything.”

YIKKKKKEEEEEEESSSSSSSS. so carmy really be that asshole huh? what an unfortunate christmas for her - how did you somehow manage to make fishes even more tragic?

“Pete making his way towards you from across the street, hand going up in a little wave to greet you.”

i fr love pete so much. like - i have a really hard time with my own in laws and having an in law like pete would be a game changer, somebody whose also on the outside that is so supportive and goofy and kind hearted

“What the fuck did you end up buying him?”

he is so silly and goofy and protective🥹

“Ahem, I uh I overheard what you said to Pete. Is your mom doing okay? Was the trip out here too much for her?”

oh. my. god. HE IS SO THAT ASSHOLE W T F F F F F F F FF F F

“Carmy made a decision in that moment, as soon as this night was over, he was buying you a fucking Christmas present.”

wow my boy does have at least one brain cell! i think that is actually the bare fucking minimum that you could do at this point carmy.

“Baby! Nice of you to join us, mind doing me a favor and handing me those forks?”

this is such a serious scene but i was laughing so hard at it during the show and this line made me laugh just as much. it fits in there so seamlessly.

“I said of course she’s gonna fucking do what you say the girl has no fucking backbone.”

lee is going to CATCH THESE HANDS in the applebees parking lot - we’ll see who has no backbone then

“eyes finding Carmen's eyebrows raised in a silent question, eyes searching your face to catch any remaining emotions, you smoothed out the frown on your face sending him a small nod to let him know you were fine.”

this is such a sweet and intimate moment after such a brutal moment. maybe! just maybe! carmy does still care.

“I could, ahem, I could drive you.”

ahhhh yes, a good old fashioned olive branch and a good amount of time alone to talk it out

“Taking a step into the room your eyes found Carmy sitting on his twin sized bed, legs propped up as a book rested on his knees, highlighter clenched between his teeth as he raptly read his book.”

baby is so brave because if i walked into this it would be on sight. who gave him the audacity to be this hot? he knows what he’s doing putting the highlighter between his teeth like that.

“His eyes were drawn to the medium sized ‘B’ in a typewriter-like font painted in the space behind your ear.”

this whole scene is so domestic i’m screaming and THIS TATTOO. THIS TATTOO KILLED ME.

*adding onto this reblog to let you know that i stared at the gif for atleast 5 minutes before i started reading, so, thank you for blessing me with that*

chapter 3 | lavender vanilla

↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairings: platonic!mikey berzatto x fem!reader | carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: christmas dinner commences, you and carmy put your differences aside for a night.

warnings: language | angst | fluff | mentions of cancer | mentions of death | lee’s geriatric ass | carmy trying his best | donna’s mental health | talk of drug abuse | let me know if i missed anything please!!!

wc: 6.9k

The sound of laughter could be heard through the door of Donna’s bedroom. The two women occupying it caught up with each other like no time had passed at all. You were laying down on the end of Donna’s bed, elbow propped up so your hand could hold your head up. Tiff laying in front of you sitting up slightly from you adjusting her pillows when you had first made an appearance in the room.

“Wait so Richie actually blew up your mom’s microwave?” The words coming out between the laughs that had been wracking Tiffany’s body. Eyes glistening with unshed tears as she listened to your account of the story.

You sat up rapidly head nodding to confirm Tiff’s question, “Exactly, Mikey volunteered to pick my mom and I up from her chemo appointment, and Richie bless his soul was trying to make dinner for us.” You paused as you couldn’t stop giggling at the memory, “He couldn’t find any plates, so he put fucking foil in the microwave, and by the time we got home the house was full of smoke and there were scorch marks on the wall.” You couldn’t help but to lean over clenching your stomach at the belly aching laugh the memory induced. Tiff doing no better hand gently cradling her bump as she tried to catch her breath.

Finally getting enough air into her lungs Tiff spoke up, “Wha-What did your mom do?” She searched your eyes waiting to hear your explanation. Your own laughter had finally settled down allowing you to finish your story, “Absolutely nothing! My mom was so sweet on Richie he could’ve burnt the house down and she would’ve thanked him for it!” The laughter in the room took over once again as the two of you imagined how much your mom’s little crush inflated Richie’s ego.

The two of you had finally calmed down sitting in the ambience that a memory from your younger years left behind. Tiff did her best to sit up, careful not to move too quickly in case it induced a bout of nausea. Her hands reached out gently clasping yours in her embrace, “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here with us today.” The slight squeeze she sent your hands conveying the raw emotion she felt, the small sad smile gracing her lips doing their best to comfort you.

You nodded, sending your own small smile her way, eyes quickly leaving hers to dart around the room, not comfortable enough to see the earnestness in her blue eyes. You cleared your throat trying to ground yourself, “Ahem, yeah…yeah it's a little weird, first Christmas without her and everything.” You let out a pathetic little laugh doing your best to not let the gloomy feeling settle over the room.

You squeezed Tiff’s hands back finally finding her eyes again, “Speaking of, she actually made something for you-well for the baby actually.” You motioned to Tiff’s stomach trying to move the conversation along to something much more light-hearted. “I’ll just go get it yeah, I want you and Richie to open it together.” Tiff nodded eyes misting at your mom’s selflessness in what must have been a debilitating time for her.

Smiling at Tiff one last time you quickly got up to make your way downstairs to where Carmy had hang your coat and bag. You made your way down stairs laughter and loud voices coming from the direction of the living room. You made it to the closet where your belongings were quickly grabbing your keys out of your tote bag you debated slipping your coat on before ultimately deciding it wouldn’t be necessary. You could hear Mikey’s voice as you made your way out the door, he and Richie recounting one of their many tales. You quickly slipped through the door making sure it closed behind you as to not let any cold air in.

Rushing to your car you popped the trunk reaching for the Christmas themed gift bag. You reached up to shut your trunk wanting to hurry and get back inside when your eyes landed on the large matte black box sitting in your trunk. A matching black bow and envelope atop of it, the white ink that spelled out Carmy’s name glaring back at you.

You let go of the trunk letting out an exasperated sigh. You hand planned on personally giving him the gift and watching as he opened it, wanting to see his reaction. But as your brain thought about the argument you had with him earlier, that hope quickly dwindled. You sat the gift bag on top of the box before reaching to pick up the box itself, shutting your trunk and locking your car. The sound of another car door closing caught your attention, Pete making his way towards you from across the street, hand going up in a little wave to greet you. You smiled racing your hand holding your car keys to return his greeting.

Deciding to wait for him so you could walk in together, your eyes took in the aluminum tray grasped in his hands, “Oh shit.” The expletive left your lips as Pete finally took his place by your side, his wide goofy grin drawing your eyes, he balanced the tray in one hand to give you a side hug that you willingly leaned into. “Baby you look great! How’ve you been?” You smiled, seeing Pete before re-entering the house was like a breath of fresh air. The two of you began your trek up the sidewalk.

“Doing my best Pete. Um what cha got in your hands there?” Your head nodding to the tray held in his hands. Pete followed your vision before smiling back at you “Tuna casserole! Couldn’t come empty handed you know.” Pete’s happy go lucky energy bringing a small smile to your face, the two of you stopped before entering the house. You adjusted the box in your hands, free hand reaching out to gently squeeze Pete’s bicep.

“Oh you poor kind soul, they’re gonna fuck you up in there.” The words cause Pete’s smile to falter as you send him a toothy one of your own before walking through the door and holding it open for Pete to walk through. As you both walked through the front entrance you caught the tail end of what sounded to have been a hostile conversation, Pete stealing the show by making his presence known. You had half the mind to leave Pete to defend himself, but a part of you would’ve felt bad for letting someone as sweet as Pete take the heat alone. You walked around Pete sitting on the arm of the chair Mikey was sitting in, his arm going to wrap around your waist unconsciously.

“You know it’s seven fishes, right Pete?” Mikey’s question drew the rest of the room's attention to the tray Pete was still happily holding. The room burst with voices as almost everyone took turns berating Pete. You leaned back slightly so you weren’t blocking Mikey’s view before turning your head in Richie’s direction hoping to gain his attention.

You reached behind Mikey’s back to pinch Richie’s arm his eyebrows shooting up an offended look on his features as his head turned to you, “What the fuck was that for Baby? Pete’s the one with the eighth fish.” You rolled your eyes hand grabbing the gift bag from its place on the box, maneuvering around Mikey’s imposing body before handing it off to Richie, “Merry Christmas Richie, its for you and Tiff so don’t open it without her,” You scolded raising your eyebrows to further cement your message. “It's from mom, she um, she didn’t get to finish it so I apologize if my knitting skills didn’t do it justice.” The last part quickly added on in a joking tone as you noticed Richie’s eyes taking on a solemn look to them.

He gently grabbed the gift bag out of your hand, a slight nod sent in your direction as he gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Thank you Baby, means a lot.” You smiled back quickly, turning back to the conversation, not wanting to get caught up in any more unwanted emotions.

Carmy’s voice breaking through the onslaught of shit Pete was getting, “Hey, family. Come on, let’s sit. Okay dinner’s ready, alright.” Your eyes connected with his baby blues as you subtly tried to adjust the envelope sitting on the box so the bow could hide the recipient’s name. Your gaze was snatched away from Carmy as your attention was directed to Mikey who was whispering in your ear. Carmy did his best not to let the sight bother him, Mikey drilling his ass in the pantry earlier about what he accused the two of you of. It was hard not to though when you had so comfortably leaned into Mikey’s body whispering your own secret back into his ear, the sight of Mikey’s thumb rubbing gentle circles in the material of your shirt that was covering your waist causing Carmy’s head to spin, quickly removing his attention to Pete to ease his insecurities.

You hadn’t noticed Carmy’s eyes glued to you as you exchanged hushed whispers with Mikey, “What the fuck did you end up buying him?” Mikey’s words caressed your lips as his free hand tapped against the present sitting in your lap. You followed his hands before whispering back to him, “Something that I’m not even sure was worth saving up like 10 paychecks for this shit.” You scoffed feeling a bit miffed about the present since you and Carmy were still on uncertain terms. Mikey nodded a smile gracing his lips as he softly bumped his head into yours, “He’ll appreciate it Baby, I know he will.” You sent him a hopeful smile, you may have been annoyed with the youngest Berzatto and his antics, but you really did want him to like the gift.

“Yo Baby, Baby.” Your eyes found Carmy’s as he called for your attention, “What is that? What the fuck is Pete holding?” You quickly looked at Pete feeling bad that he was on trial before finding Carmy’s eyes again, a small smile finding your lips as you sent a shrug in his direction, not wanting to be the one to rat Pete’s good intentions out.

Carmy modded lips pursing as he wiped his hands down his face as he turned his attention to Steve knowing he’d give him a straight answer, “You’re gonna be upset, but his heart was in the right place, Carm. It’s a tuna casserole.” The slight flush you could see creeping up Carmy’s neck indicating the toll this mishap was taking on him.

You leaned into Mikey more, settling into a more comfortable position as you drowned out the rest of Pete’s trial. You were ready for the day to be over and you hadn’t even eaten dinner yet, you could feel your eyes slowly drifting shut as Mikey’s warm body pressed into your side, each rise and fall of his broad chest pulling you into the purgatory before sleep and consciousness.

The sound of Sugar’s voice jumping onto the tuna casserole bandwagon roused you from the little peacefulness you were beginning to find. You watched with drowsy eyes as she snatched the dish from his hands presumably disposing of it, you softly pat Mikey’s thigh before removing yourself from your seat intending to find somewhere to drop Carmy’s present off at. You stopped in the threshold of the door sending Pete a small smile, “If it makes you feel better Donna threatened to beat my mom’s ass when we showed up with collard greens and baked Mac n cheese our first Christmas here.” You gave a soft pat to his elbow hoping the anecdote helped him feel someone better.

You left the living room, eyes looking around for a practical spot to leave Carmy’s present. You debated leaving it on the small side table in the hallway, but you weren’t too sure if anyone would give it a second thought. Carmy stopped in the doorway of the kitchen as he found you standing in the hallway, the matte black box still clutched in your hands. He had half a mind to hide out in the kitchen until you left but knew he’d probably get shit from his mom about it.

He cleared his throat, gaining your attention as he took a few steps to lessen the distance between you. His hand raising up to scratch the back of his neck, eyes not meeting yours as he prepared himself to interact with you, “Ahem, I uh I overheard what you said to Pete. Is your mom doing okay? Was the trip out here too much for her?”

You stared at Carmen eyes cold and unwavering, you knew his question held no malicious intent but it still felt like a slap to the face. The silence from you finally caused Carmy’s eyes to meet your own, the soft color of your irises giving nothing away.

“She died eight months ago Carmen.” Carmy felt like his whole world had stop the voices in the background drowinng out as the bubble the two of you were standing in was filled with nothing but silence.

Carmy’s arm raised his head forcefully running through his hair, head darting to the side to compose himself. “Shit Baby, I’m sorry I-I didn’t know.”

You nodded eyes straying to the present in your hands swallowing the lump in your throat, “How would you?” An out of place laugh leaving your lips as you looked at Carmy, the kicked puppy expression on your face making you feel a little bad. Letting out a sigh you shook your head, “I’m sorry Carmy, that wasn’t fair.”

Carmy copied your motions, his own hand shaking as he reached out a gentle unsure hand to lay on top of yours, “No no, uh I think I deserved that one.” His boyish smile doing its best to offer you some form of comfort in this moment. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, the smile you hadn’t seen in so long unconsciously causing one to appear on your own lips, head dropping to the calloused hand gently on yours.

The hand quickly retreated to its owner, Carmy not wanting to push anymore boundaries, eyes looking at the box one more time a scapegoat from this conversation, “Uh so what’s in the box?” His hand gestured to the rather large decorative box that looked quite fancy now that he could see it up close.

You let out a shy chuckle, “It's uh actually for you. Merry Christmas.” You held out the box to him urging him to take it out of your hands. His eyes shot down to the box, surprised you had even thought about him, “If you don’t feel like opening it now I could just leave it in your room.” Your head motioning up the stairs.

Carmy stepped back nodding his head, “Uh yeah please if you don’t mind.” He sent you an awkward smile, guilt creeping up his chest. You smiled turning to head up stairs and drop his present off, he called out to you as made it halfway up the stairs. You stopped turning to face him, “I uh, I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

Carmy watched as you drew your lips up into a broad smile. He knew it was fake though, that small sparkle wasn’t in your eyes, the edges of them not crinkling either the way he had once been used to your pretty teeth not making an appearance for him either. He watched as you sent him a small shrug, “It’s okay Carmy, I wasn’t expecting one anyway.” You resumed your journey upstairs to his room.

Carmen was left alone at the bottom of the staircase, eyes still glued to the spot you were just minutes ago. He closed his eyes trying to get a deep breath into his lungs. Carmy was trying to understand how he had ever deserved to once have you in his life, he was a grade A fucking asshole to you, and you still treated him with the same love and thoughtfulness you always had. Carmy made a decision in that moment, as soon as this night was over, he was buying you a fucking Christmas present.

You closed the door behind you as you exited Carmy’s childhood room, the air of nostalgia pressing down on you while you were in there almost suffocating you. You had been in there entirely too long, easily getting caught up in how much easier life was when you and Carmy used to build pillow forts and tell ghost stories in there. You had meant to just place the present at the foot of his bed and go, but you found yourself getting caught up in the memories and flipping through the various culinary books that had been sitting on the nightstand paying extra close attention to the pages that had been tabbed.

By the time you made it to the dining room everyone had sat down and the only empty seat was to the right of Sugar and directly across from Carmy. You walked in brows pitched together at the commotion that could be heard, eyes locking with Carmy’s at the same time something aggressively hit your thigh.

A chorus of “Michael” could be heard around the dining room. You looked down at the sound of metal clanging against metal, one fork laying next to your foot another a little ways in front of it. Bending down you scooped the two forks up in your hand. You looked around the table even more confused than you already were eyes darting to Mikey as he threw his arms open in greeting, “Baby! Nice of you to join us, mind doing me a favor and handing me those forks?” Your eyes flashed to the forks in your hand before taking in everyone’s expressions around the table.

You had no clue what you had just walked into. You looked in Carmy and Nat’s direction, the two of them subtly shaking their heads. Your eyes found Mikey’s again a little unnerved by the look in his eyes, “They were just on the floor so I’ll just go wash them off real qui-.”

The sound of palms slamming against the table cut off your explanation causing you to flinch where you were standing, eyes still glued to Mikey, “Sorry Baby, I’m sorry,” his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Just hand me the forks alright, don't needa wash ‘em off,” You gulped your head nodding slowly as you took the few steps in Mikey’s direction. He carefully took them from your grip, a mocking smile pulling at his lips.

You gave him a small nod quickly retreating to your seat. You shuffled your chair in Stevie helping to push the back of it. All was silent for a moment as everyone looked at each other, you doing everything in your power to avoid anyone’s eyes. A quiet laugh broke the silence followed a whispered “Of fucking course.”

Mikey’s eyes snapped back to Lee eyes zeroing in on the older man, “What did you just say?” The question sounded more like a demand to your ears. Lee laughed again shrugging his shoulders turning his own eyes to glare at Mikey, “I said of course she’s gonna fucking do what you say the girl has no fucking backbone.”

An echo of “Lee,” and “What the fuck,” could be heard from both Richie and Cicero, one trying to the diffuse the situation, the other not settling for the unwarranted disrespect thrown at you. Your head shot up a frown decorating your features eyes locking on Carmy’s as he shook his a head a plea for you to ignore it and not further feed into the chaos

You ignored Carmy turning in your chair to face Lee, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Lee?” Stevie’s hand reached up to lightly pat your shoulder trying to calm you down before aggressively being shrugged off.

Lee faced you with a sardonic smile pressing into his lips “Is somebody gonna tell her? Do I have to tell her?” He looked around the table looking for anyone to take the reins from him, “I’m sorry that nobodies honest with you sweetheart, but you’re just a glorified lap dog.” He shrugged his shoulders as if in apology, “Just a bitch he keeps on a leash.”

Your mouth opened a little bit confused as to how this conversation had become a personal attack on you. Everyone at the table had brought forth different reactions after that revelation, anyone who knew Mikey knew he didn’t take kindly to disrespect thrown your way. You felt a foot nudge yours under the table taking you away from the ensuing chaos. You turned to Sugar who was focused on the scene in front of her too worried about Mikey to be paying attention to you. You felt the nudge again, eyes finding Carmen's eyebrows raised in a silent question, eyes searching your face to catch any remaining emotions, you smoothed out the frown on your face sending him a small nod to let him know you were fine.

The two of you were drawn back to the argument before you as the two men began berating each other again, voices growing louder by the second. You watched Mikey’s face lose any sort of emotion as Lee took a shot at his drug use. You felt your heart squeeze in your chest at Mikey’s reaction, you couldn’t lie you thought both men were being extremely childish but you hated how that was one of the things people latched onto when purposely trying to hurt Mikey.

The table remained silent; the only sound filling the room was the ticking of a clock in the background, everyone doing their best to not cause any reasons to incite more violence. The anxiety caused you to bounce your leg up and down unsure as to where the rest of this night was going, you felt a foot gently tap the toe of your shoe, something Carmy used to do whenever you needed reassurance that everything would be okay and other forms of physical contact were impossible.

You watched as Mikey pawned Pete’s fork from its set place, an uproar going around the table pleading with Mikey. You sat there silently watching the scene if 10 other people hadn’t already gotten through to Mikey, you were sure and 11th voice joining the mix would be completely useless at this point.

Sugar’s voice cut through the chaos attention zeroed in on Mikey, “Michael. Please don’t do this.” You watched as Mikey focused his attention on Sugar, “I love you.” Being her final plea as Mikey seemed to be weighing his options. The discourse between the two continued as everybody watched with bated breath waiting to see what the next move would be.

Steve’s unwarranted giggle broke Michael’s focus, his rush of apologies being brushed off by Mikey all in the name of fun. Cicero decided he might be the one to finally get through to Mikey playing his hand at mediator. You watched Mikey’s erratic behavior in silence, you weren’t usually privy to this side of Mikey, never being in town long enough to catch one of his episodes. It scared you, and it wasn’t necessarily Mikey that was scaring you but knowing that his switch could be flipped in such a timely manner that had you worrying about his safety.

The argument being nowhere near resolved as Lee’s constant instigating kept fueling the fire. Mikey’s sudden movement to stand up caused your heart to race, you honestly couldn’t give two shits about Lee’s wellbeing, your only concern was Mikey and what was going through his head at that moment.

You held your head in your hands that were propped up on the table by your elbows, the impending headache beginning to make an appearance. The animal noises coming from Mikey’s direction doing nothing to ease the ache behind your eyes. Doing your best to drown out Lee’s constant attack on Mikey’s character.

The clapping around the table drawing your head up as Donna danced into the dining room, you felt so exhausted you couldn’t even muster up a fake smile to appease her. “What did I miss?” Donna laughed as she made her way to her seat, a quiet “nothing” being her answer. “I missed something,” she said while sitting in her designated spot.

Donna’s eyes met yours, letting out another laugh “Jesus you look fucking miserable Baby. I definitely missed something.” You let out a small chuckle forcing your lips into a pathetic smile, you hand coming up to play with your own fork that was sat on the place mat, “Nothing Mama D, just Lee being a fucking cunt.”

The table fell quiet any hope for a somewhat peaceful family dinner squandered by your remark. All eyes flocked to Donna as she let out a full belly laugh, hand coming down to hit the table. The same hand moving up to point at you, “Now that’s fucking funny Baby.” A shit eating grin stretching across your face, Carmy letting out an exasperated sigh at his mom feeding into your antics.

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie’s about to say grace, Ma.” Mikey interjected trying to stir Christmas dinner back on his rightful course, Donna looked appeased eyes happily finding Steve’s figure as she waited for him to begin. A small back and forth between Mikey and Stevie ensued before that latter began his prayer.

“Um..Hey. Uh.. that we’re all…” Michelle’s laugh interrupting her partner causing you to laugh but quickly stopping at the soft pinch on your thigh earned from Sugar. You fell silent as you listened to Stevie give what seemed more like an awkward ramble rather than a prayer.

You could feel Carmy’s eyes darting across your figure as Stevie gave his explanation of what he thought the seven fishes symbolized. “I think that spending time and using that time on the people that we love is how we show them that we love them.” You had looked up in that moment, eyes connecting with Carmy’s piercing blue ones. Neither of you gave into the urge to look away, instead drinking each other in like two plants feeling the first drop of rain after a drought.

Your attention both drawn away by Donna’s quiet sniffles a chorus of praises sent in her direction in order to calm her aching heart.

“You okay?” Natalie’s question causes you to flop back in your chair, eyes clenching shut. You knew all Nat had was good intentions and would always be the first one to put Donna’s mental well-being first, but you also knew what it felt like to feel so overstimulated that those two measly would send you in a downward spiral.

“Do you know how much I fucking hate it when you ask me that? Do I not look okay Natalie?” Donna’s mood shifted just as quickly as it had been the whole day. Her unknown limit was reached in the span of a minute.

“Not really.” Michelle’s subtle shade drew a hardly restrained laugh out of you, “Oh, fuck you Michelle.” Donna snapped before setting her sights on you, “Is something funny Baby? Hmm?” The question causes the lingering smile to immediately drop your back going straight against the chair, your head quickly shaking back and forth throat clearing before answering Donna, “No ma’am.” You admitted head still on a swivel to ease Donna’s agitation.

You glanced at Carmy, his whole being sunken in as he looked at you as if your existence was exhausting him at this moment. Regardless of Carmen’s look you know your mom would’ve crucified your ass for walking into Donna Berzatto’s house and feeling comfortable enough to disrespect her not only to her face, but with a bunch of her peers around.

“Are you motherfuckers okay?” Donna continued on letting her subdued rage out the table silent so as to not enrage her any further. “Fuck you!” The smashing of glass as the plate hit the ground causing you to flinch, leg knocking into Carmy’s from the sudden noise, his knee tapping yours twice to reassure you everything would be fine.

Donna made her exit while berating Sugar, who sat there speechless unaware of why her need to make sure her mom was well was taken as a personal attack. Lee’s unprovoked comment about Donna’s tirade irritating you along with Michelle’s comment about it being her worst moment.

It was funny to you how each and everyone sitting at this table would drag themselves here every year. To sit in Donna’s house, to eat Donna’s food. To reap the rewards of the countless hours of Donna’s hard work, only to dismiss her because she had become so overstimulated the only reaction she knew to give was unadulterated rage.

You saw Mikey’s hand move before the fork flew across the table narrowly missing Lee’s head. The older man jumping up no longer tolerating the eldest Berzatto’s antics, Mikey following suit the clattering of the dishes loud as he threw his side of the table. The two men trying to force themselves out of the arms of the people holding them back seemingly ready to tear each other apart.

Silence fell upon the room as a loud crash was heard, the screeching of tires following after. You stood up from your seat mouth dropping open at the Mercedes Benz now sitting in the dining room. Mikey’s voice screaming at Donna to open the door as Sugar tightly grasped your arm lingering on the table, trying to ground herself. The two of you are the only remaining guests still sitting down. Your eyes followed Carmy’s as he stared blankly at the fork lodged into a cannoli.

Your head was pounding at this point, the small headache from earlier now feeling more like a migraine. You slipped your arm from Sugar’s grasp removing yourself from the dining room table as quietly as you could, you quickly walked to the front door. Every bone in your body was screaming at you to walk out that door and not come back, to protect your own peace. You plopped down on the porch step head resting against your knees, as much as you wanted to leave, your heart wouldn’t allow you to leave the Berzatto siblings to this mess alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home with us?” Sugar asked one final time as her and Pete were standing in the open doorway. “Pete will take you to the airport in a couple of hours.” You smiled pulling Sugar into a hug, the two of you lingering in the other’s embrace a much needed hug after the day you had.

You pulled back, placing a kiss against her cheek, “Get home Nat, I’ll have Mikey drop me off.” You could tell she was ready to protest but Pete grabbed her elbow gaining her attention, “She’s right you need rest.” You nodded in agreement with Pete, happy that Nat had found someone who would always put her first.

“Listen to Pete Nat, I promise I’ll be fine,” You gave her hand a squeeze the uncertainty still clinging to her features before she let out an exhausted sigh head nodding as she pulled you into one last quick hug. “Call me as soon as you get home okay?” It was your turn to nod, urging the two of them out the door before closing and locking it behind them.

You leaned your head against the cool surface of the door, you had no desire to sit on a plane for four hours, but you also had no desire to extend your stay in Chicago for longer than needed. Sighing you made your way into the kitchen to make sure all the appliances were turned off before flipping off the lights and making your way to the stairs.

The closing of a door caught your attention, your eyes shooting up and landing on Carmy’s tired face, the bags under his eyes seeming to have darkened from the stress of the day. He stopped in his tracks looking at you as well, eyes not blinking for a moment, “You’re still here?” His question caused you to frown confused at the hostile question.

His eyes darted across your face, throat clearing, “No, I uh didn’t mean it like that. Just thought you would’ve been gone by now.” You nodded understanding where he was coming from. “I’m actually looking for Mikey, have you seen him? He’s supposed to take me to the airport.”

Carmy felt his jaw clench at the mention of Mikey, he was getting real fucking tired of hearing about the two of you together. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much but he hadn’t expected to be spending his first Christmas home in a while worrying about Mikey’s role in your life.

“Uh, Mikey took off a bit ago. I don’t think he’ll be home anytime soon.” You felt your eyes instinctively close a tired sigh escaping through your lips. The last thing you wanted to do was head to the airport this early and wait for your flight. You had hoped you’d be able to catch a quick nap before heading out.

“I could, ahem, I could drive you.” You watched as Carmy ran a hand through his hair, eyes looking everywhere but you, “I mean only if you want though you know?” You felt a small smile tug at your lips, Carmy's awkward behavior endearing to you, you could tell he felt self-conscious about even offering up such an idea, and you understood, it was kind of out of left field for two people who hadn’t been on the best of terms.

“Honestly Carmy I would fucking love that,” You smiled in his direction thankful that you could count on one of the Berzatto brothers. “Um do you think I can take a shower though, kind of just wanna wash the day off.” You gave a small chuckle to try and alleviate any tension your request may have caused.

You watched Carmy’s head nod rapidly, words failing him in that moment. He turned heading to his childhood room expecting you to follow in his footsteps. You entered behind him, the room feeling impossibly smaller with the two of you now taking up space. You watched Carmy frantically move around the room returning to your side with a stack of clothes in his hand, you smiled gratefully taking the clothes from his hand before making your way towards the en suite.

Carmy watched as you closed the door behind you, hands moving to run down his face as his brain tried to piece together how after everything that had gone down today, you were taking a shower in his childhood bathroom.

You stepped out of the shower quickly wrapping the fluffy towel that you had found under the sink around your body. Your hand reached up to wipe the steam off the mirror, you stood there for a moment taking in your appearance grateful to have taken a shower but a little nervous about spending time in close quarters with Carmy after being apart for so long.

Your eyes turned to the pile of clothes sitting atop the countertop, you took inventory of the items. A white tee shirt that you just knew hugged Carmy deliciously, sweats that were sure to be baggy on your frame, a pair of socks and boxers you hoped had been washed prior to being offered to you.

The lotion bottle sitting next to the sink caught your attention, not giving it a second thought as you reached for Carmy’s signature scent lathering it on your body and quickly getting dressed. You exited the bathroom throwing your damp towel in the hamper next to the bathroom door. Taking a step into the room your eyes found Carmy sitting on his twin sized bed, legs propped up as a book rested on his knees, highlighter clenched between his teeth as he raptly read his book.

It wasn’t the position that kept your focus though. It was the tank top that showed off his toned biceps, shoulders sculpted just right. His signature gold chain complimenting the white tank top. You did your best to stop staring, eyes skating across his ink covered skin as an excuse to keep checking him out.

“You’re staring.” Your eyes shot to Carmy’s face, his eyes still stuck on his book. You cleared your throat gaining his attention, hand gesturing to the door behind you, “I hope you don’t mind I kind of used your shower gel…and your lotion.” Carmy nodded listening to you speak, “I drew the line at your 2in1 Head and Shoulders though, that was a real disappointment Carmen.” You sent him a teasing smile as you made your way to his bedroom door.

“Wait where are you going?” You stopped looking back at Carmy confusion washing over your face, “I was just gonna nap on the couch, I don’t want to intrude in your space any longer,” You calmly explained. Carmy stared at you for a few minutes, bright eyes drilling holes into your own, you watched as he moved to the opposite side of the bed before patting the spot he had just been in “Just uh, nap here okay?” You felt your heart rate pick up at the gesture, a little annoyed that basic human decency had your heart trying to race out of your chest.

Carmy raised his eyes in your direction waiting for you to take the spot. You quickly shuffled over, adjusting the pillow so you could lay down comfortably. You laid down on your right side, head facing Carmy, studying his face as he read. Watching as every few minutes he would highlight a sentence he probably found particularly interesting. His eyes so focused on what was in front of him you almost wondered if his body remembered how to blink. Your eyes traced down the side of his face, gliding down his neck and landing on his gold chain that caused your body to warm, your tongue peeking out unconsciously to lick your lips.

Continuing your path across Carmy’s shoulder your hand reached up to gently caress his ‘773’ tattoo. Index finger tracing every number before making its way down to what appeared to be a measuring cup holding the world.

Carmy’s head shot in your direction at the first touch of your soft finger against his skin, he watched your finger carefully tracing the ink lining his arms. He saw the concentration on your face doing his best to hold back a sigh at the feel of your skin against his. He had to convince himself to not reach out and push the hair out of your face to get a clear view of what you looked like at this angle. Carmy allowed you to continue your investigation, his own eyes darting across the visible side of your face, eyes falling to your pulse point imagining what it would feel like to place his hand there. His eyes were drawn to the medium sized ‘B’ in a typewriter-like font painted in the space behind your ear.

Carmy shakily reached out hand cupping the left side of your neck as his thumb gently ran back and forth over the single letter, “Baby?” You looked up at Carmy eyes meeting his as he tapped the ink behind your ear to signify what he was questioning. You gulped feeling the tension in the air as his eyes searched back and forth between your own.

“It could stand for Berzatto if you wanted it to.” You weren’t sure where the confidence to allow that whisper to leave your lips came from, but you weren’t going to pretend you regretted it.

You watched Carmy’s Adam's apple bob up and down. The grip of his hand tightening against your neck momentarily as he coughed before removing his hand. Eyes leaving yours as he shut the book still laying in his lap and placed it on the bedside table, “Ahem, It's late, get some rest I’ll wake you when it's time to leave.” You were given no time to interject as Carmy turned off his bedside lamp and turned so his back was facing you.

You sighed eyes now piercing the space between his shoulder blades. Leaning forward you pressed a small gentle kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder. “Goodnight Carmen. Sweet dreams.” You turned as well, not even being able to face his back.

Carmy’s breath caught in his throat, your lips feeling as if they had been branded into his skin. He took the chance adjusting his own body around, the size of his childhood bed causing the two of you to be pressed flushed together. The soft gasp you let out causing his heart to race his mind going a mile a minute, thoughts doing their best to talk him out of whatever the hell he thought he was doing right now.

His arm found its way around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him, your backside pretty much in his lap at this point. Neither of you said a word. Carmy's face made its home in the crook of your neck. The faint scent of your lavender and vanilla perfume lulling him into a dreamlike state.

a/n: goodness did i hate the first draft of this chapter : ( and i still hate this draft, but the carmy x reader fluff at the end made me feel better lol. the family dinner truly killed me though and i’m so glad to be done with the christmas arc. i hope you all enjoy please like/reblog/comment or interact in whatever way you feel comfortable. i appreciate you all so much thank you for the support! 💜

idk if this needed to be said or not but this is obviously and AU at this point lol

tag list: @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @rexorangecouny @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @fandomhopped @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @gcidrvsh @fire-treasure-iii @frequentnosebleeder @kailyn-g05 @khena

i hope i got everyone, strikethrough means i couldn’t tag : (

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

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

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock  hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

[creativeashproductions]

When the Pain Ends // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Breaking up with your boyfriend ends with your broken hand, a broken heart and a trip to Canada. Getting out of Oklahoma for comfort of your younger brother Owen brings you into contact with a sweet Canadian.

Warnings: Swearing, hospital, cheating boyfriend, angst and bit of fluff

Words: 3.1k

Requested: No.

A/N: Tidbit of info is that I am a university student. I had last week off and I’m six minutes into my History Zoom Lecture. Here’s a little fic.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The scowl glued on your face as you waited in the ER for the results from the x-ray you had gotten back from minutes ago. A bag of ice on the swollen knuckles of your right hand still splattered in drops of blood. The same blood as the small drops on your shirt as well. If that didn’t put a scowl on your face, it was the next issue.

The reason for your visit to the ER was in bed next over complaining as a nurse checked his face. His eyes meeting yours in a blend of guilt, regret and fear almost. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to meet his eyes.

Let’s backtrack a little for a short history.

The summer after graduation, you had met a guy on the beach playing volleyball in need of another player. You joined, and then you fell for the guy just as he did for you. For the last three years, you were now twenty-one years old. Parker had been a really good guy. Until yesterday.

“Babe!” Parker sounded congested with the bandages held up his nose. He had been fighting the nurse to come to your side.

“Don’t call me that!” You hissed glaring at the tall boy with the auburn hair colour that had once been your favourite colour.

“C’mon it was a mistake-Ow!” Parker whined at the nurse applied more pressure as she cast a sympathetic glance at you. A small smile of thanks passed to the nurse who had maybe pressed a little no hard on Parker’s nose.

Your eyes rolled at the drama that was Parker when it came to injuries that had been his entire fault, to be frank. Your fist meeting his face? His fault for cheating. What did he expect? A congratulations? Screw that.

“Say anything else I swear I’ll hit the other ball.” You glared at the boy sending him to a fit, shaking fear of stupidity.

The beach was filled up with teens and adults with children on the nice weekend day out of the loud city. Originally you hadn’t been able to join Parker with your mutual friends, but something else had spurred you there. Instead of having the weekly movie night via FaceTime with your younger brother, you had other plans. A particular video sent by Parker’s best friend and his cousin too had brought you here. Livvy had grown close in the three-year relationship you had with her cousin.

Your fury filled gaze flickered around the beach and the grass in the large opening area of the waterfront. Finally, your eyes found Parker sitting with Livvy on the blanket on the grass with Steve. Livvy was the first to see with marching through the people spreading like a curtain from the angry girl.

“Hey, Parker!” You shouted at your boyfriend in a conversation with your other two friends. Parker’s smile grew just before it falters at your expression.

“Hey, Babe,” Parker spoke, climbing to his full five-foot-ten stature. Livvy’s smile pulled up in an amused smirk while Steve looked more confused.

“How was your weekend at your sick Granny’s house?” You came to a stop a foot away from him. Arms crossed just under your chest his thick eyebrows furrowed together.

“Uh…it was okay. She’s feeling better.” Parker nodded to himself tilting his head to the side, “It was-“

“I hope she better. Her treatment must have been incredible.” You replied, unfurling your arms to grab the phone from your back pocket.

Parker grew more confused, “What?”

“The doctor sure knew what he was doing. The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The whistle you made after your statement sounded, but you grew more satisfied with the circle of people behind you.

“Oh.” Steve choked, raising one fist to press against his mouth. By now Livvy had started recording on her phone.

Livvy and Parker may be cousins, but she loathed cheaters when it was the cause of her parents’ divorce. Parker’s lips parted as he paled. The click of the glass screen brought up a video of Parker and a brunette in a hot tub.

“Ba-“

“Fucking look at your actions.” You hissed stepping even closer, “Was it worth it? Jeopardizing a relationship with someone you share years of memories with? Years of love and trust? All for thirty seconds of fun? We both know you tend to…get too excited.”

“Oh shit,” Steve spoke, shifting his gaze between you and Parker like he was a bobblehead of Einstein. The very bobblehead that you had laughed giving Steve with his obsession over the legendary scientist.

“It just happened. I still love you. I just needed a- “Parker stumbled back bringing his hands to his face, “OW! You broke my nose!”

“Ouch.” You hissed shaking your aching hand coated in some blood that splattered your shirt from shaking the hand.

“What the hell! You bit…holy fuck!” Parker screamed as your foot came up between his spread legs, nailing his left nut. He collapsed onto the grass, struggling to hold his bleeding broke nose and his nuts.

“That’s what you get asshole.” You shouted, turning to Livvy, “Can you take me to the hospital?”

“Parker drove, I’ll drive you both there. Steve can keep you two from fighting.” Livvy spoke, ending the video to shove everything in the oversized beach bag.

Now it was hours later as per usual in most hospitals elongating the time you were forced to spend with your now ex-boyfriend. Livvy and Steve had gone home a while back. Parker continued trying to fix the unrepairable damage he had done.

“Y-“

“That’s it!” You exclaimed jumping down from the bed to storm over to Parker. You made a few steps before arms encircled your waist.

“Okay, Slugger.” The gritty voice of your father spoke tugging you as far away from your ex-boyfriend as possible, “As much I want to kill him, I think you broke his pretty-boy face enough.”

The anger drained from your body as you slumped against your dad anguish set in with a tsunami of hurt. Time melted as you broke in your father’s arm; missing the doctor giving information. Your hand was fitted with a cast, and next thing you were aware of it was in the car.

“You bruised hits nuts. Broke his nose.” Dad nonchalantly spoke, turning the steering wheel as he exited the hospital parking lot. He didn’t bother making small talk as he let you be quiet on the drive home.

You didn’t know what hurt more, the heartache or your broken hand stabilized in the brace. The clearing of a throat had your attention is drawn to the house you had grown up no doubt holding your upset mother.

“She’s not that mad.” Dad quietly spoke, handing your phone that had died during the time in the ER. You shot him a look at the inaccuracy of his statement because you both know she was angry.

“Her daughter just spent hours in a hospital with a dead phone. We both know she probably thought I was dead in a ditch.” You deadpanned as you both walked up to the door of the home in Norman, Oklahoma.

The door opened before you could reach for it, and a flurry of blonde hair attacked you in a hug. Your mother hugged then leaned away to scan your features. Catching the dried tear stains paired with the red-rimmed eyes.

“Sweetheart.” Dinah spoke, raising her hands to wipe the tears from your face only causing more to fall, “What’s wrong?”

“Parker cheated on me.” You mumbled melting into her arms in another round of tears, breaking your parents’ hearts.

Meanwhile in Vancouver, Canada

Owen loved his job and the people he had met, but he missed the weekly movie nights with his older sister. The Joyner siblings had gotten down pat a system of sync to have the same movie playing at the same time on FaceTime. Imagine his surprise when he got a text apologizing.

Virtual movie night postponed. It put him in a slump that greatly concerned his roommate at the decrease of excitement. Even the next day, he was sad like a kicked puppy.

“Bro? You good?” Charlie asked from his place in the kitchen, scanning his emails on his computer. Owen barely made his eyes, “Wasn’t movie night with your sister yesterday?”

Owen nodded, “Yeah she-“

As Owen had gone to explain his phone had dinged with a concerning message from his mother.

Mom: Have you heard from Y/N? She hasn’t come home.

Owen swiped out of the conversation to the most used one with you shared with him to send a mass of messages. All not even coming up as read by you. It was his stipulation that you had it one for his safe of mind.

“C’mon you little shit,” Owen grumbled, pressing your contact to call. It didn’t even ring, “Dead cell.”

Charlie’s full attention shifted to the younger guy sitting on their couch in the apartment they used during filming. As Owen started pacing, Charlie was over quick as a bunny to offer comfort to him. The boys had grown so close, with Jeremy too, that they knew how to help the other.

“Owen, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Charlie soothed the blonde with his eyes pleading with the teenager.

“My parents haven’t talked to my sister. She didn’t go home.” Owen admitted scratching at his chest when his chest tightened. The other immediately finding his pulse on his neck to ensure he still had a pulse.

“Oh shit.” Charlie retorted, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor trying to find the right words to help his friend.

For the next hour, the boys kept in contact with Owen’s family and checking your social media in shifts as they filmed. It was a slow day when Owen’s phone finally rang with his mother’s contact once more.

“Mom, did you find her?” Owen asked, picking at the skin on his lips pacing as he had all day. The level of anxiety had been perfect for the scene he had filmed as Alex.

“Yeah. Look, Owen, she needs to get out of Oklahoma. Do you have room for her?” Dinah asked her son periodically glancing in the living room at the lifeless young woman.

“Yeah. We have an extra room.” Owen supplied squeezing the phone in his grip, “How is she? What happened?”

“I’m letting her settle before I ask any questions, but her flight is in a bit. It was either you take her in, or we pay for a hotel room. Oh! I got this lego-“

“I have to get back to filming. I’ll call you tonight.” Owen told his mother as his thumb hit the record circle on his phone. Kenny waving him over to film a scene with Booboo that would be the last before heading home.

The over the counter pain pill went down with a swig of water in the airport waiting for Owen and his roommate. Owen had messaged you that he would pick you up on the way from the set in perfect timing.

“Y/N!” Owen cheered catching sight of your form hunched forward on the bench you had miraculously found empty. Your blank eyes seeing the blue of your younger brother.

Owen’s eyes widened in shock, “What the hell happened to your hand?”

Noncommittal, the girl walked by her brother with her luggage in the mission to get to the car. All you wanted was to burst into years under your blankets until the world turned again, when birds sang, and the word wasn’t painted in dull colours.

Just as it had during the ride from the hospital to the house, it was dead silent in the car with the barest sound of music. Owen and Charlie had been having a conversation with expressions with the tension in the backseat stifling.

“This is our place.” Charlie spoke, opening the apartment door with a flourish for the girl and her luggage. Your eyes scanned the modest apartment with minimal mess compared to the tornado devastation of Owen’s Oklahoma room.

“Okay.” You replied, watching as Owen rolled the luggage to the room you would use for the few weeks you would be here.

Once showered, dressed and settled, you retreated to the couch to watch a film with the two boys. Your mind fluttered between Beca’s blow out with her father and Jesse to the city of Norman. As if thinking of Parker manifested something your phone buzzed with notifications.

@/livvyjo: Go, girl! [video]

@/malia134: Parker goes down like the bitch he is!!!

@/notsteverogers: I got a front-row seat to the fight.

Those three comments on Livvy’s video had more support than hate plus the video itself was hilarious. It caught the entire confrontation from greeting the cheater to being pulled away to spend the ten minutes in the same car. The car you had hooked up in the backseat of in the years you dated him.

 “-The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The pure anger on your expression amused you.

“What are you watching?” Owen inquired from the couch he watched the movie from. It made up for the lack of a film last night.

“A girl punching her bag of shit ex-boyfriend. She almost ripped his face off in the hospital.” You softly replied with your thumb double-tapping Livvy’s post.

Charlie’s attention shifted from the pool mashup with the Barden Bellas to the pride evident in your tone. It was the first time he had heard you laugh during the few hours he had been in your presence.

“What movie?”

“Oh, you know Parker’s Dicked Down Adventures. Filmed free with an iPhone.” You spoke sliding down to sit flush to Charlie to show the video you refreshed.

Owen’s mouth opened, “He cheated on you? How stupid is he??”

“You have a mean right hook.” Charlie supplied replaying the video for the third time with a weird feeling in his gut. The confidence stirred a body warming heat in the Canadian actor unlike anything else he had felt before.

“Dad taught me.” You replied, slouching down in the plush couch with a tiny smiling, “The nurse heard what happened. She put excessive pressure for his actions. I overheard his diagnosis; nasty bruised testicle and a broken nose.”

Both boys winced at the description. Owen ditching Charlie’s side to sit beside you, leaving you in the middle of the boys.

“I almost attacked him before Dad dragged me out of the room.” You recounted snuggling into your younger brother’s side.

“Where are my keys?” Owen questioned his roommate, “We need them to drive to the airport. I need to kill the ass that hurt my sister.”

Your deft fingers grasped Owen’s wrist when he went to get up because, in all honesty, he probably would book a flight. He wouldn’t go through with the plan to physically hurt Parker, but Owen had a wicked tongue for insults.

You spent one month in Vancouver with your brother and his castmates from helping Maddie with her homework. Movie nights with Owen changed to include Charlie too. Shopping trips with Sav and Tori. Baking with Jadah. You became family with them.

All good things come to an end. You had settled back in Norman with brighter plans that didn’t involve relying on men. Movie nights still happened with the boys, but things got hectic. Virtual movie nights shifted to texting Charlie and calls.

“Hey dork.” Charlie spoke walking down the street in Vancouver to the restaurant he was meeting the cast at. His lips pulled back in a massive grin, hearing your voice.

“Hey Char!” You enthusiastically spoke, walking out of the building with more pep in your step at the voice of the man, “What’s up?”

“On my way for food with everyone. How are you feeling?” Charlie asked, rubbing his fingertips on the dark denim pants. The sound of your voice brightening up his day more than he thought possible.

“Ooh. I should let you go, huh?” You questioned shifting to hold the phone between your shoulder and chin. Fingers unlocked the new car you had bought with the money you had saved.

A nice change of money from selling the jewellery, clothes and other miscellaneous gifts Parker had given you. The necklace he gave you that once belonged to his grandmother had been given back to him. Other than that you had no interaction with the ass.

“I’d rather talk to you.” Charlie admitted biting his lip in concentration, “I have a question.”

“Okay. What’s your question?” You questioned as your phone connected to your car—Charlie’s voice coming through the car speakers.

“Filming is almost over. Do you have plans for New Years? I’d like you to see you again.”

His words set a flutter of butterflies moving in your stomach at his nervous confidence striking the new information. The change in your friendship had been felt on his side as well and while you usually would think one-month post cheating wasn’t long enough. Something about Charlie felt comfortable as if everything had been preparing to fall for him.

“I could fly-“

“I’d like to see where you grew up. Your favourite places and where you went to school. I want to know the little things that made you who you are.” Charlie spoke coming to a stop outside the restaurant, waiting for your answer.

Owen’s eyes pulled from his debate with Sacha and Jeremy to the nervous Canadian biting his lip outside the window. By the expression on his face, Owen couldn’t guess who he was talking about. It was the smile that had been appearing on Charlie’s face for the last two weeks you had been staying with them.

Charlie had fallen for Owen’s big sister, and he couldn’t think of anyone better. The bond between you and Charlie had been natural and magical to watch. It was kinda gross seeing his best friend and sister having heart eyes with each other. Yet, Owen had never liked Parker, but he loved the idea of having Charlie as a brother.

“Y-yeah. Of course, you can Char.” The flattering blush heated up your skin at the turn in the convo—a grin splitting on the two individuals with more than three thousand kilometres between them.

“Cool. I should join the cast. I’ll text you later.”

“Bye, Charlie.” You whispered to the boy looking out the window noticing something she had been oblivious to.

The world had regained the colour, the birds sang again, and the world turned once more. All because a boy helped her heal.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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[marvelfansince08love]

A Christmas Gift

Word Count: 4K

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader 

Warning: Smut 18+ (a little filthy, you’ve been warned) 

Enjoy my loves! Merry Christmas to you all, Mwah x

This is how I picture Cordelia’s dress later in the fic (may have gotten carried away so I’ll just go hide in a corner lmao)

Tagging a few of my loves💛 : @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @mssallymckenna @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @pearplate @r0an0ke @coconutlipss @minavenable @venablemayfairgoode @versonstar @veteranwerewolf95 @fandom-nsfw-things @saucy-sapphic @creepingwolfberry @nyx-aira @witchxaf @duchessfics @billiedeansbottom

A Christmas Gift 

The smell of freshly baked cookies and coffee travels from the kitchen as you take in the Christmas morning. Smiling softly as you pass the living room, presents stacked high around the tree that stands tall in the corner of the room ready for a certain well behaved boy; who continues to sleep peacefully unaware that the big guy in red has been and gone. Wrapping your arms around yourself, your smile turns into a huge grin when you take in the scene before you. Ally stands by the coffee machine as she pours coffee into her mug humming quietly to the well known Christmas song that plays from the speaker, Cordelia sways softly to the beat of the joyous tune placing the cookies onto the plate at the kitchen table. Leaning against the doorframe you bask in the image before you, grinning ridiculously when you take in their red and white pyjamas that match your own. Oz had insisted that this year you all wore matching pyjamas on Christmas day and you were not to change out of them all day, Ally had put her foot down about that last part. 

Cordelia notices your presence first, gazing over at you with her chocolate brown eyes so full of love as her lip twitches into a soft grin. You move away from the doorframe, tiptoeing quietly over to your blonde wife, pressing a kiss to her hair as you whisper into her ear, eyeing Ally who continues to tidy around the counter area still unaware of your presence with her back turned as the music blares from the speaker next to her. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.” Cordelia leans into you, a soft smile appearing on her lips. Her gaze meets yours as you nod over to your brunette wife, winking playful at the blonde as her eyes sparkle with mischief. Moving away from the witch, you move quietly over to Ally wrapping your arms around her waist holding her flushed against you, feeling her tense for a brief moment before relaxing into your familiar embrace. Propping your chin onto her shoulder, you turn slightly to press a delicate kiss to her exposed neck. 

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” You whisper close to her ear. She turns in your arms holding onto your shoulders as she pecks your lips, smiling widely against your mouth. 

“Merry Christmas, sleepyhead.” She teases, before turning back around and grabbing the freshly brewed coffee and the herbal tea, brushing past you playfully she places the tea in front of the blonde who sits at the kitchen table. She kisses the brunette in thanks, brown eyes locked onto brown for a moment a feeling of warm contentedness flows through the room as you watch the pair, your heart full at the sight. You are interrupted by the sound of loud thudding as smaller feet sprint down the stairs, making you share a knowing look with the two matching their grins. Oz sprints straight into the kitchen, his eyes bursting with excitement as his thick blonde hair sticks out in all directions, glasses slightly crooked perched on his nose. 

“He’s been, he’s been!!” He exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. Ally moves forward first wrapping her arms around his shoulders, kissing the top of his blonde curls. 

“Wanna see what he’s left you?” She mutters into his hair making the boy nod excitedly before sprinting off in the direction that matters most. You smile into your mug basking in the smell of coffee early in the morning, as Ally races after the boy. Cordelia glances over to you a mischievous glint within her brown eyes as she saunters over towards you, eyeing her form you watch on in apprehension. The blonde witch flushes herself up against your side as she takes your mug grimacing slightly at the strong coffee smell, placing it onto the counter next to her. Her lips brush along your cheek before resting close to your ear. 

“I hope you enjoy your present, my love. I have to say it fits perfectly.” She purrs, before leaving a wet trail of kisses along your neck. Within a blink of an eye the blonde saunters off following the departed footsteps of your other wife and son. You gape for a moment, your brain trying to process her words as if you imagined them before shaking yourself out of your dirty thoughts and sprinting after your family. 

‘God I love Christmas,’ You thought wistfully, coffee long forgotten. 

***

You were never one for Christmas holidays, the idea of a big jolly fella in a red Santa suit delivering presents always seemed so ridiculous to you but as you sit curled up into the corner of the sofa with the comfortable weight of your excited son snuggled close to your side, you are thankful to have a new, more positive perspective on the day. With the wrapping paper now removed from the living room; per Ally’s request and presents neatly piled in the corner of the room, you all sit cozied up around the big TV, watching as the tall giant dressed in an elf’s costume runs around New York looking for his dad. Cordelia glances over to you from above Oz’s mob of blonde curls and winks smiling softly as she pulls Ally closer to her on her other side. The peaceful atmosphere is quickly ruined by the horrible sound of your cell phone, groaning as you gently remove the tired boy that is slumped against you, who automatically curls into Cordelia making your heart ache at the disruption. Grabbing the irritable phone from the table, you quickly answer the person who is intruding on your family time. Ready to give them a piece of your mind, you pause after hearing the sound of sobbing coming through the other end. 

“Katie?” You ask, frowning at her heart wrenching sobs. You feel Ally and Cordelia’s gaze on you as you remove yourself from the living room, confusion evident within their matching brown eyes. 

“Y/N, I- I’m so sorry f- for calling you. Oh my god why did I-i call you, it’s fine I can sort it,” Katie stutters between her sobs, scolding herself. Quickly moving into the hallway and away from tiny prying ears, you try to calm her. 

“Katie, dear. I need you to breathe for me so you can tell me what’s wrong, okay?” You instruct softly, you jump slightly at the light touch on your shoulder. Turning to see a frowning Ally who eyes up the phone in your hand, she mouths ‘is she okay?’. You nod reassuring her, squeezing her hand before turning my attention back to my business partner.  You hear her take a deep breath in before rushing out a very in depth story about how the business deal with Harrison and Co has fallen through and how she’s tried her best to regain their attention, even amending certain demands  on the contract but with no such luck. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I really tried to get them back on our side but..” 

“They want to talk to me.” You state, knowing exactly where she was going with this phone call the moment you picked up the phone. Your eyes lock with Ally’s as you watch her bite her lip, her eyes full of understanding but you know by the slight dip of her brows that she’s disappointed. Sighing tiredly you continue your conversation with Katie. 

“Are they there now?”

“Yes, they would like to discuss with you new terms. Again I’m really sorry Y/N.” She apologises, sounding like she is on the verge of tears again. You reassure her and tell her that you will be there within the hour. Ending the phone call makes you huff in frustration, the only thing helping you relax is the soft touch of your wife’s hands that cradle your face, her thumb stroking calming strokes against your cheekbones. 

“Baby I’m really sorry-” Ally shushes you softly, pecking your lips in reassurance understanding the importance of this deal. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do, baby. We’ll be here with some hot cocoa when you get back annnd my parents are excited to have Oz tonight,” She trails off suggestively, biting down on her lower lip with a quirked dark eyebrow. You match her grin, kissing her hard, appreciating her understanding nature. Wrapping your arm around her waist you pull her close and slowly make your way back into the living room, feeling your shoulders tense slightly when you see your two favourite blondes singing softly along with Jovie and Buddy. Cordelia glances over to you both noticing your tense posture and sadden eyes, due to her distraction from her duet with Oz the boy turns around curiously looking at you and Ally with his big brown eyes. 

“You okay, Mama?” He asks, his innocent voice making you melt at his concern. Moving away from Ally you round the sofa and crotch in front of the boy. 

“You remember that big business deal Mama and Aunt Katie were working on?” He nods along, remembering the many nights you and Katie would work rather late into the night, stacks of paper scattered around the kitchen table. “Well it seems the boys we were working with no longer want to and they are being a little greedy and wanting more… candy from us,” 

“That’s very greedy Mama,” He adds, agreeing with your analogy. You grin softly and you see the soft glint in Cordelia and Ally’s eyes as they sit either side of him. Brushing his messy mop of hair from his eyes you continue. 

“Yes, very greedy Ozzy. So, because the boys are being greedy, Mama needs to go and ask if the boys would like to play nice since it’s Christmas and all... I’m sorry Oz but I promise tomorrow I’ll pick you up from Grandma and Grandpa’s house and we can go down to Milton Hill and go sledging!” You promise watching as his eyes light with glee at the prospect. He sticks out his pinkie finger to you making you smile softly before proceeding to lock your larger pinkie with his sealing the deal. 

“Deal Mama! Can we ask if Jackson can come?!” He asks, his voice becoming louder with the excitement. You nod vigorously basking in his excitement and slightly relieved that you have such an understanding family. Luckily this is the first and will definitely be the last time you miss out on Christmas for work - deal or not. Reaching up to place a kiss on the crown of his head, you move over to your blonde lover, conflict still evident in your eyes, she gently grips your clothing and pulls you closer, your nose brushing softly against hers as she presses a delicate kiss to your lips. 

“Hurry up home, my love.” She whispers gently against your lips as you pull away, flustered by the intensity of her brown eyes as she eyes you lovingly. Clearing your throat you nod stumbling to your feet, as Oz giggles into Ally’s side at his blonde mothers mischief, you quickly press a gentle kiss to Ally’s temple on your way past, heading for your shared room to change. 

Once changed and with more kisses given you head out into the cold quiet afternoon ready to get your deal finalised and sealed, determined to get back to your wives before nightfall. Stepping into the car you glance briefly through the gap of the living room curtain taking in your family who are still in their matching pyjamas, wanting nothing more than to be snuggled amongst them. 

***

Stepping back through into your warm toasty home you sigh, finally relaxing. Placing the cold bottle of champagne onto the side table, you remove your coat and gloves shaking the small remanence of snow. Frowning at the quietness, you remove your boots and head for the living room taking the cold champagne bottle with you. You stop abruptly by the open door frame staring openly at your senator wife, who is currently lounged lazily over the single armchair, her legs hanging over the arm of the chair, her skin glowing a light orange from the burning fireplace beside her. A lovely shade of Christmas green lingerie on display for your eyes only, with a book in her hand she peeks over her page to take you in through hooded eyes before her eyes land on the loosely gripped bottle. 

“They accepted?!” She asks, her voice laced with excitement placing her book onto the small table stand next to her. She slowly gets up from her position and saunters over to you agonizingly slow as you both drink each other in. Your eyes darken the closer she gets, seeing how well the bra fits her breasts making them look exceptional against her chest. The contrast between the green material and her skin are undeniably pleasing, her dark brown hair that frames perfectly around her face tying up the view in front of you perfectly. Licking your lips hungrily you finally find your voice and reply. 

“They did, I thought we could celebrate.” You inform, tightening your hold around the neck of the bottle. She nods only half listening to you as she skims her fingers up your arm and towards your neck where she laces her fingers around your neck  keeping a tight hold of you actively pulling you closer to her. Brushing her lips across yours, she allows her tongue to leave a wet trail against your dry lips warming them from the bitter cold outside, you gasp at the warm touch. 

“Let me go and grab the champagne glasses, I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” She husks against your lips before sauntering away from you giving you a great view of her ass as she sways purposely. Fighting back a groan, you scan the room for any traces of your other wife knowing that the crafty witch wouldn’t be too far away from all the fun. 

“Delia is sorting out your Christmas gift, Oz left with my parents about half an hour ago,” Ally answers my non-vocal question, watching as a knowing glint shines bright in her dark eyes. You squint at the innocent expression that she gives you, knowing there’s more to her words. She chuckles lowly while taking a hold of your hand, transferring the bottle into her other arm, holding the three glasses in her hand. Your eyes darken further as you watch the curve of her ass with every step she takes leading you up the stairs. Ally stops by your shared bedroom door turning to wink at you before letting go of your hand.  

“Wait right here.” She demands, before sneaking into the bedroom shutting the door closed, leaving you no time to peek into the room that holds your Christmas gift. Not a moment later Ally comes back out, slightly breathless as you take in her blown dark pupils with a dirty grin she asks you the most important question. 

“Are you ready for your Christmas present?” She entices, coming to stand behind you placing her one hand over your eyes as the other pushes open the door, guiding you into the room you bite your lip in anticipation as you await for the darkness to unfold from your eyes so you can take in your surprise. Soft hands disappear from your eyes allowing you to open them at Ally’s soft instruction. 

Your eyes widen with lust as you take in the sight before you. Lying lazily on the bed with her back against the headboard, long blonde locks trail down over her covered breasts, is Cordelia. A short red bow tied teddy lingerie dress fits snugly around her body, the end brushing barely over the tops of her thighs as she grins straight at the pair of you, slowly bending both her knees spreading them apart given you a glimpse of her matching panties she beckons you forward with the crook of her finger. 

“Merry Christmas, Baby. Why don’t you go and unwrap your present?” Ally drawls into your ear, tracing the shell of your ear with her tongue making you shiver on the spot. You answer by removing your work clothes as quick as possible watching as Cordelia bites her lip in amusement at your enthusiasm. 

Now dressed down to only your underwear, you feel Cordelia’s heavy gaze drop to your breasts licking her lips hungrily. Before you advance forward you quickly turn and pull Ally flush against your body hearing her gasp at the sudden new position enjoying the feeling of your skin against hers, pressing a hard kiss to her lips you quickly pull back, eyeing her appreciatively. 

“As long as I get to ravish both my presents tonight,” You comment, a roguish grin appearing on your face. 

Ally giggles at your teasing demeanour before nodding biting her lip. Pressing a kiss to her neck, you turn back around and focus on your blonde wife. Keeping your eyes locked with hers you move forward slowly, taking her in from head to toe. Crawling onto your Queen sized bed you settle yourself in between her legs, placing your hands above either side of her head holding tight to the headboard. Bending down slightly you take her lips with your own in a delicate, slow kiss. Hearing her hum in satisfaction you deepened the kiss, bringing one hand down to grab hold of her breast, squeezing gently making her gasp. Her sudden gasp allows you to brush your tongue gently over hers, tangling them together as you continue to kiss sloppily. Pulling away slightly you look over your shoulder to see your brunette wife stalking around the bed, her eyes never leaving your entangled forms, you remove the hand that has found its place on Cordelia’s breast to entice her to join you. Her eyes brighten at the invitation, joining you both on the bed she lies on her side flushed against Cordelia as the blonde reaches over to capture the senators lips, the feeling of arousal settles low in your stomach at the sight beneath you. 

You move away briefly while they continue to make out, straddling Cordelia’s hip you finger the loose bowtie that keeps her breast hidden. Gently pulling at the material you watch satisfied as the bow becomes undone in front of you, revealing the swell of her breasts and perky nipples. Cordelia gasps as the cold hits her exposed chest, pulling away from Ally in the process who eyes her wife's’ breasts. With a similar thought process, you and Ally dive straight for the blondes chest taking a nipple into your mouth each and sucking delicately at the sensitive nub. Cordelia moans loudly into the lightly dimmed room, her hands instantly finding their place on top of your heads, keeping you both close as you lick and suck at the aroused nub. 

“Mmm, yes just like that.” She breathed, allowing her head to lean back against the headboard as she fidgets under you. 

You both continue to tease at the blondes chest watching as her breathing becomes more erratic, your hand skims down the side of her toned body feeling the material against your fingertips before reaching soft skin under the teddy dress. Removing yourself from her waist you settle in between her legs, your stomach pressed against her core making her rock against you harshly needing some friction as her arousal builds. You latch back onto her nipple as Ally moves to suck gently on Cordelia’s neck, her thumb brushing over the sensitive nub. Removing your mouth from her breast, you slither south pushing the material up towards her breast exposing her stomach. Placing wet kisses along her stomach you move closer to her wet spot, already smelling her arousal. Hovering close against her most needed spot you brush your nose gently against the offensive material before moving to focus on her inner thigh, nibbling softly at the skin before reaching for the panties sliding them along her toned legs wanting rid of the pair. You groan at the sight before you as you take in her already glistening pussy as she whimpers. 

“Baby, please. I need you.” She whines, before latching her lips onto Ally's, taking the brunette's bottom lip in between her teeth pulling a groan out of Ally. Satisfied with her pleads, you brush lightly over her slit with your tongue feeling her hips thrust upwards seeking firmer pressure. 

Pressing your tongue harder against her wet pussy, you continue to pleasure her with firm strokes of your tongue, collecting her arousal before latching onto her clit. You feel a second pair of legs next to you begin to fidget as Ally waits patiently for your attention. Moving your mouth away briefly, you grasp at Ally’s ankle gaining the brunettes’ attention from Cordelia’s lips. She eyes you, her gaze slightly hazy from her pleasure. 

“Lie next to Delia, baby. I told you I want to ravish both my presents tonight.” You husk, your words breathless as you eye her hungrily. Obediently, she lies comfortably next to Cordelia opening her legs slightly to allow you access. You moan at the dark wet patch against her green panties, tapping at her ankle she lifts her hips allowing you to remove her panties. Now settled, you reattach your mouth around Cordelia’s clit, as your thumb rubs firm circles over Ally’s clit watching as she withers above you. You continue to tease them with your mouth and fingers feeling them both thrust against you as they seek for more friction. Moving your thumb from Ally’s sensitive clit and your mouth from Delia’s you sit back leaning on your heels as you look down at the pair, bringing your fingers that are covered with Ally’s arousal to your lips making a show of wrapping your tongue that’s covered in Cordelia’s wet mess around your fingers watching as the pair follow your movements with their dark eyes. Placing your hands on top of Ally’s knees you gently pull her legs further apart before diving for her wet pussy, watching through hooded eyes as she throws her head back and arches her back at the touch. Cordelia whimpers at the site of her two loves, she goes to place her finger against her throbbing clit but you gently slap the hand away and take over her needs sliding your finger in between her lips, collecting her juices teasing her entrance before entering her  as your tongue continues to twirl around Ally’s throbbing clit. 

You feel your own pussy throb at the sight of your wives both coming undone by you, withering and pleading for release as you continue to pleasure them until they tighten around you feeling them clench and pulse around your tongue and fingers. Moans and groans grow louder the closer they reach their orgasm, glistening bodies coming undone before you. They both relax almost simultaneously as they allow their orgasm to wash over them. Your eyes sparkle with lust and love as you watch them catch their breaths, Cordelia’s lovely new red teddy dress crumbled and flimsy against her form. Placing one leg in between their open ones, you lean forward hovering over the pair as they look at you with hooded dark eyes. 

“Champagne?” You ask, licking at your lips hunger still evident in your eyes. They match your gaze and grin. Before they answer you squeal loudly as you feel yourself be removed from above them, Ally wraps her arm around your waist swapping your position from above them to lying against the soft mattress, your wives faces above you as they remove the remaining pieces of their clothing. 

“Drink can wait, we want to celebrate Christmas properly,” Ally's sultry voice sends shivers down your spine as you wiggle in anticipation. 

“Well then, Merry Christmas to me,” You mutter to yourself, grinning from ear to ear feeling grateful for these two goddesses that brighten your life. Christmas may have been a ridiculous holiday in the past for you but it’s true meaning has since changed since meeting these two wonderful women and your sweet blonde boy who is the beautiful mix of them both. With no more words spoken you allow the pair to worship you into the early hour, enjoying their soft touches.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

Can we get more beach trip headcannons except this time with female! manager, Thank you I love your work❤️❤️❤️

original beach training camp hcs here - worth reading for context

look at my ass saying ‘context’ as if this is some literary analysis

on the one hand, with the manager around, hanamiya’s no longer the only adult there to look after everything

on the other hand, manager-chan has to be a little mad to be even be working with the boys, and thus she’s only going to be adding to the chaos

for example, half the time, she’s telling hara that no he can’t just claim he has to protect her from the ‘’renowned okinawan beach ghost’ in order to get out of practice, and the other half of the time, she’s plotting with him at 2am about how they terrorise the others and make them think that the beach ghost does exist

side note: seto doesn’t believe in ghosts or anything that’s not explained by science; hanamiya’s the same but he pretends he worships satan every once in a while just for the sake of freaking people out; who knows if furuhashi believes in them in not, but, even if he saw a ghost, he wouldn’t be impressed

and yamazaki’s the type of say they’re stupid, and then start fucking screaming as he goes through a haunted house and then, once he’s out of there, claim that he was never phased in the slightest, and that it was furuhashi grabbing onto everyone’s arms (furuhashi’s a good target cause he’s not a large enough dick to dispute it and embarrass yamazaki; he just kinda raises an eyebrow and moves on)

road trip fic where everyone visits a haunted house and does all kinds of stupid shit when?

anyway that’s why yamazaki’s sitting in on the “reviving beach ghost” conversation (you can’t get scared if you are the ghost, am i right?)

the plan with the ghost is simple and is supposed to involve a) manager dressing up as the ghost (long black dress, hair over her face, etc), b) yamazaki making ghostly sounds (he’s good at sound effects, it’s not as stupid an idea as it sounds), c) hara’s gonna film it all (and also buy the necessary supplies, like fake blood etc)

the problem is that discussing satanically plans at 2am, after you’ve had a full day of practice (or a full day of dealing with these idiots), is that you’re not going to be awake at 7am

which is when hanamiya storms in wondering why half the team are missing

although the sight of people covered in dark cloaks (they’re just blankets; it got cold in the night) and pages filled with drawings of pentagrams (it took zaki that many tries before he could draw it without it it being wonky) may be a little unnerving

nothing is more terrifying than a fuming hanamiya dragging you out of bed when you’re still half asleep

and he also finds the written plans so, all in all, mission failed

Moving On

this is already fucking long and i’ve only just started shit

given that seto never plays in full matches, his fitness plan is a little more lenient - aka, sometimes when everyone else is off running and dribbling and whatnot, it’s just manager-chan and seto on the beach, enjoying their holiday

this is helpful as a) it prevents seto from being forgotten (see previous training camp post), and b) it gives their manager the time to very helpfully apply suncream for him, probably in a pattern, so he gets the image of a flower sunburnt to his stomach

the best part of it is that seto doesn’t even give a shit

catch him floating off on his back to the middle of the philippine sea with the flower shining against the sun like a message from god

actually that raises a very important point about the boy’s swimming abilities so,

yamazaki + hara: good swimmers, neither ever took lessons so their strokes aren’t too polished, but they can goof around in the sea and try to drown one another without anyone actually drowning (or, at least, that’s what the manager’s there for)

furuhashi: very good swimmer, even better diver. disappears without making a single ripple in the water, no bubbles either. he just appears all of a sudden from underneath your feet like “this is a pretty shell, isn’t it?” as if his dark presence at the sea bed hadn’t just made several people think there’s a shark about

seto’s real good at floating, and at a mediocre backstroke, and that’s all he ever does - or is bothered to do

matsumoto takes pride in the fact he’s a faster swimmer than anyone else on the team (except for furu that is), and he likes to do the butterfly stroke angrily up and down the shore to get rid of all his pent up stress (hanamiya never comments on it, cause hey it’s just extra fitness training)

and finally hanamiya was unable to swim for a very long time (and there is many a photo of him with swimming armbands, hidden in his bedroom, from when everyone was coming over, and he couldn’t let them know that he has a weakness

however, one time, hara had a pool party when hanamiya still couldn’t swim, and hara threw him into the pool, and he just somehow learned how to in those few seconds? talk about survival instinct

alright back to our scheduled program

furuhashi is damn good at fishing. like damn good, like doesn’t even need a rod, he just shoves his arm in, somehow grabs one, and guts it and prepares the meal there on the beach

having to eat dinner with a furuhashi whose hands and some of his chest are stained with blood (normally he’d wash it off, but he’s a little emo at heart. went through a phase as a child where he was really into blood vials, and satanic witchcraft and all that) may be a little disconcerting, but it’s also a lovely time :)

picture the scene, dear reader

all the lads, surrounded by the sunset, the evening tide and the lush green in the background, sat by a little stove fire over which furuhashi is frying the fish

matsumoto and the manager chatting about the competitions scheduled for after the team gets back (you’d think hanamiya would be involved in this discussion, but Coach Time TM is over, and now he and hara are challenging one another to watch over hot coals, as furuhashi patiently warms up more stones for them)

seto probably helping furuhashi out; either that, or telling yamazaki all the many illnesses he might catch from the ocean, as zaki takes a massive bite of seaweed and then spits it all out

everyone eventually getting dragged into the hot coals battle

someone almost definitely gets burnt (spoiler alert it’s zaki) and manager-chan has to bandage him up as he yells at a laughing hara that he was sabotaged and that he can handle heat better than anyone else here

he dives on the hot coals as if to make his point

and thus matsumoto and furuhashi have to carry him back to the hotel, cause now he’s got even more burns (and he’s also a little baby who doesn’t like pain, but don’t let him here you say that)

oh the woes of training camps when two of your group have very high IQs, and yet there is still only 1 brain cell being shared between 7 people

[misslynn99]

Epicenter: Chapter Two

Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Link on AO3: Epicenter

Link to Chapter 1

Author: misslynn_99 (Me!)

The next morning, the café regulars buzzed around the TV monitors, excitedly chatting about the news. Official footage of the attack had finally been aired. Concrete flew everywhere as the villain lashed out against heroes, sending distraught civilians fleeing from the scene. The scene that every news station had on repeat, however, was that of several tons of concrete on a direct collision course for a young family, until Ground Zero put himself between the two. He squared back one shoulder to pulverize the rubble with a blast, and in that moment, his wild eyes were molten flames, the fine cascade of dust casting a hazy halo around his form.

It was such a harsh contrast to the villain swinging a pillar of concrete immediately after, colliding directly with the hero’s chest and sending him hurtling back against the harsh exterior of another building, slumping bonelessly on the ground.

“He saved them.” You whispered to yourself. Icy needles twisted in your chest. Eijirou had  trusted you to care for his closest friend at his most vulnerable. The café was much closer than any hospital to the scene, but your heart skipped a beat, fluttering in astonishment. “He could have died. It’s a wonder he didn’t.” Just how close had Ground Zero been to death’s door when he showed up here?

“Blasty is lucky he’s got a rad, manly partner like me.” Eijirou’s voice startled you, suddenly far too close to your ear.

“Hi!” You squeaked. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“You think I’d let my best girl go un-thanked after saving my partner’s ass yesterday?” His arms swept you into a tight bear hug, twirling your feet off of the floor. Eijirou’s easy smile seemed to smooth over the awkward tension from the day before, as if it were no more than an insignificant blight of an otherwise sunny day.

“Quit harassing the woman, Shitty Hair. We’re here on business.”

“She likes it.” Eijirou had the gall to stick out his tongue. “Isn’t that right?”

“I, I don’t mind.” You couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, dropping your head forward, and you prayed that no one would notice. This crush was spiraling out of control, as the sturdy muscles that could shatter any obstacle and strong enough to lift cars supported you easily in his embrace.

“ ‘Don’t mind’ isn’t the same as ‘like’.” Ground Zero’s mouth turned even further downward into a scowl. Reluctantly, Eijirou set you down, and you felt cold at the absence of his touch. The tension settled again like a thick cloud, choking out whatever embers of affection you felt for the red haired hero.

“I didn’t mean to impose.” The red-head’s own face was dusted with faint pink, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s no problem.” You tried your best to smile kindly, wincing internally at the memory of his flinch. “Why don’t I get you both some coffee on the house? It’s the least I can do for everything you two do to protect the city.”

“One black coffee it is then!” Eijirou perked back up.

“So, I take it you’ll have the latte, extra heavy cream with two pumps caramel, two pumps cinnamon, and cinnamon-brown sugar mix dusted on top?”

Ground Zero’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to say that so loud.”

“No shame.” You chuckled despite yourself. “Plenty of people take their coffee sweet, too.”

“Don’t spare Blasty’s feelings!” Eijirou laughed. “Even Mr. ‘Nothing is spicy enough’ likes sweets on occasion.”

“You better shut your mouth!” Ground Zero snapped, his tone climbing with each word. Curiously, Eijirou kept laughing, and tapped at his own ear.

“Right, got it.” The blonde grumbled. “Too loud.”

“Here you go, boys.”

“I have a name, you know.” The blonde held the cup up, scowling. “I’m off work, damn it. You called Shitty hair by his name on the cup.”

“It’s not like you introduced yourself between eating shit against the building and going in for surgery.” Eijirou scoffed.

“And you did?”

“Kiri stayed with me while they gave me IV fluids.” You supplied bashfully. “And I wanted to know when you made it out okay.”

“Call me Bakugou then.” He made a strangled noise. “When I’m not in suit tearing shit up, I don’t wanna hear ‘Ground Zero’ from you, got it?

“Not your given name?” Eijirou seemed to take a savage joy in goading on the explosive hero. “That’s awful cold, Katsuki. She did save you from a hospital stay and a month off of hero work.”

“Or Katsuki, whatever.” If looks could kill, Eijirou would have dropped dead in his tracks. Bakugou’s eye twitched and small firework-pops crackled off of his palms, clenched into fists at his side.  You hoped that the café regulars were too enamored with the news and their own conversations to notice the sparks flying.

“I can call you Bakugou, if that’s what make you more comfortable. Wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.” You chuckled, carefully watching his expression for his reaction to the playful jab.

“Kacchan’s bark is worse than his bite, at least off of the battlefield.” A new voice drifted in from the door. The emerald curls, gelled up from his undercut, were unmistakable. “I’m afraid that we didn’t get introduced last night. I’m Deku, but you can call me Midoriya if you’d like.”

“Kacchan?” You grinned wickedly. “Isn’t that so cute!”

Bakugou bristled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you fucking nerd!” He whipped around to snarl at the green-haired hero that had just walked in. For someone who was effectively co-workers with the number one hero, Bakugou acted like he despised the man.

“Aw, pump the breaks Kacchan.” Midoriya scrunched his freckled nose in a wide grin. “I’m just here to say hello to the woman who saved your life last night. So, this is where Kiri has been getting your coffee from? It’s such a nice little café, I think I’ll have stop by more often.”

“Like hell you will! We found it first!” Bakugou growled, stepping between you and Deku, while Eijirou chimed in the background, “I think you mean that I found it first.”

“Boys, boys, you’re all very pretty.” You ducked around the pro hero’s side, attempting to soothe the bickering. “I have plenty of coffee to go around. “

“You’re not keeping her as your personal barista and healer, Kacchan.”

“What happened to keeping this on the down-low?” Bakugou suddenly stiffened, whispering harshly.

“I think someone is feeling a bit embarrassed.” Eijirou rolled his eyes.

“I got my shit rocked on national television, of fucking course I feel embarrassed.” The blonde snapped. “But for her safety, I thought we agreed to keep any rescue shit-talk out of the public eye.”

Wincing, you looked up at him. “I think they’re calling you saving that family the rescue of the year though. And lots of people have minor healing quirks.”

Whipping his head back and forth, he snagged the strings of your apron and tugged you behind the coffee bar, through the doorway into the kitchen.

“Wait!” The two other heroes followed suit, chasing you as Bakugou dragged you out of the public eye.

“You don’t have a ‘minor healing quirk.’ “ He scowled, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, hands trembling as if he were resisting the urge to shake you. You could feel the residual heat of his calloused palms, the threat of an explosion ghosting along your skin and sending shivers up your spine.

“You have a self-destructive healing quirk that has major potential to get you kidnapped. Do you know the League of Villains would do to get their hands on you? Or fuck it, the Hero Commission? They’d keep you caged up like some animal to fix up their toys as they broke so that they could be sent out scot-free again.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Midoriya and Eijirou recoil, especially as the blonde hero turned his ire towards them once again. “Is some kind of joke to you two? Kirishima, if you could take two minutes to keep it in your pants, and Deku, if you could be serious, we need to come up with a plan.”

“Yes, Kacchan.” Midoriya and Eijirou nodded.

“Where do you live?” His burning eyes narrowed in your direction once again.

Swallowing thickly, you met his gaze. “In the loft above the café.”

“Hmm. Who all knows about the full extent of your quirk?”

“Just my parents, and my best friend from middle school, who moved to the states while we were in college.”

“Maybe she should stay with one of us?” Midoriya offered. “Just to see if anyone’s decided to target her?”

Panic froze your feet to the floor. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” You laughed nervously, fiddling with the apron strings tied at your hip. “I mean, you’re all very nice, but I could never ask that of anyone. I’m up at 4 in the morning to get the café ready to open at five, and walking alone in the dark is not my forte.” Especially if I might as well have a big target painted on my forehead now.

“The League definitely keeps an eye on our flats. They might not have made the connection that she’s done anything yet, but moving her in would be a surefire way to draw their attention. Also, there’s no way the Commission would just ignore someone else hanging out all the time.” Eijirou argued. “I think it would be better to set up surveillance on the café and her loft, and maybe get her a panic button or something.”

“A panic button.” Bakugou snorted. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but there are these novel things called ‘cellphones.’ “

“And if she can’t call?” Midoriya raised an eyebrow.

“Brave words for someone who dropped his location to Icy-Hot, with literally no context, in the middle of an alleyway, and he magically appeared anyways.”

Sighing and stepping between the two bickering men, Eijirou held his hand out expectantly. “Here, I’ll put our numbers in your phone. We should probably scope out your apartment later.”

“I close at five tonight.” You offered, passing your cell to him, contacts open. “I’ll probably be done cleaning up by six, but you’re free to drop by whenever you get the chance after that. All of this feels pretty crazy though. It’s not like I did anything out in the open.”

Turning on the full force of his overwhelming intensity, Bakugou rounded on you once again, having caught the tail of your conversation. “There’s a couple articles floating around. You’re in the pictures, being floated to the hospital, and some low life bloggers are wondering how I was fine so soon afterwards, when Recovery Girl was on the other side of the country for some other case.” Venom dripped from his words, as if this were your fault somehow.

“It’s not my fault that I helped you!” Anger leaked into your voice. You couldn’t believe that he had the audacityto blame you for this. “Don’t talk to me like it is. I couldn’t not do anything. It’s a wonder that hit didn’t do worse, and I am certainly not responsible for them taking me to the hospital with you.”

In frustration, you stormed out of the kitchen, straightening your apron and apologizing to the handful of customers who were waiting by the cash register. A friendly smile and a few discounted coffees later, they sat down at a booth. The heroes were still in your kitchen, and you felt your resolve to ignore them crumbling. “I did give Kiri and Bakugou free coffee earlier.” You mumbled to yourself, a mischievous idea taking root; Bakugou’s buttons were so easy to press.

Leaning around the corner, you poked your head back through the kitchen doorway. The heroes froze, their argument in low tones evaporating with your return. “Midoriya!” You grinned, drawing out the syllables playfully and deliberately ignoring the blonde hero’s angry stare. “How do you like your coffee? Sweet as you are?”

“Uh, umm” He stuttered and his eyes darted between you and the door. “With oat milk, white chocolate and toffee, and iced please.”

“Coming right up! On the house.” The sound of sparks dancing off of Bakugou’s palms eased your flare of anger, taking a little bit of satisfaction in riling up the blonde in return, and you set about making the drink.

The trio must have finally decided to drop their discussion, and shortly followed you out to wait by the coffee bar. Bakugo turned his back to you, eyeing the door and clutching his coffee  while Midoriya and Eijirou resigned themselves to facing you, their awkward expressions apologetic. The other café patrons were thankfully still transfixed by the TVs, oblivious to the situation at hand.

“Here’s your phone back.” Eijirou mumbled, setting your phone on the counter. “He doesn’t mean it. He’s just frustrated and annoyed, nothing against you personally. It’s just kinda how he is, ya know? He takes it out on everyone. He’s been this way since he was a teenager, but he doesn’t blame you. Promise.”

“Hmm. I suppose I can accept your apology on his behalf, just this once.” You whispered back, sliding a coffee cup to Midoriya, who sipped it gratefully.

“We’ll be back later. Come on, nerds.” Bakugo’s voice was gruff as he called over his shoulder. “We have a meeting and a patrol shift soon.”

The heroes left and an unease settled in your gut at their absence, acutely missing their larger than life presence. Even as the customers milled about, coming up for refills and pastries, their words weighed on your mind. Villains and Heroes had never been a major point of contention in your life; a quirk like yours wasn’t suited for the spotlight, and like thousands of others, accepted your fate as a civilian.

The coffee shop felt like a homage to another era, before quirks existed. The small planters bloomed in the window display under your mindful care, without any sparks of magic to enhance their color or growth. The coffee beans that arrived each week were roasted delicately by hand, and each new drink was born from trial and error; no surprising powers of charm or persuasion lured customers to your door. It was an honest life that you were proud of, built with hard work and love.

Ringing up another customer and brewing the earl grey tea for a London Fog, it felt like your head was ringing. Your quirk had never been an active threat to your well-being. You had gained some control over the years, having only been able to tend minor scratches and bruises as a child, but never showed enough promise to be recruited into the medical field as a young teen. Even now, the drawbacks were too great. Healing left you exhausted, and the more extensive the injury, the greater the fatigue.

It wasn’t like you came from a family of fantastic heroes either. Your mother worked as a doctor in a wound care and surgical center because she could clean infected tissue at the expense of the patient’s energy. Your father’s quirk was completely unrelated to your own, allowing him to sculpt metal by heating his hands, albeit without flames. It was hard to believe that the arguably worse version of your mother’s quirk made you a target, but the underlying assumptions behind it sent shivers of fear down your spine. If there was no regard for your well-being, your quirk could be indispensable, could be used to patch anyone up at the expense of draining you dry.

Nevertheless, the hours ticked by, dread worrying the pit of your stomach. Bile rose in the back of your throat the longer your anxious thoughts raced. Without the grace of someone with a more offensive quirk, there was little you could do to defend yourself.

Maybe Bakugou was right to be annoyed, but he didn’t have the right to be such an ass about it. Closing time was only half an hour away, and the customers had dwindled in the shop. The pleasant humming of customers faded, exposing every raw nerve that you had. The last person was out, and at 5:06,

... there was a knock.

Snapping to attention, you jerked towards the doors, feeling a strange mixture of relief and annoyance upon seeing Bakugou waiting by the door. Sighing, you called out, “It’s still unlocked.”

He didn’t enter though. He leaned partially against the window with one hand, the other shoved deep into the pocket of his white jeans. He had the hood up on his black and gold hoodie, but not enough to conceal his distinctive blonde hair and you could have sworn his red eyes could burn a hole through anything as he peered in the window. He must not have heard you, and you steeled your resolve to go and let him in.

“Shitty Hair sent me.” He grumbled.

“Hmm.” You hummed in response, wandering back behind the counter to tuck away the extra bottles of syrup and take down the pastry display. “Make yourself at home then.”

The hero looked even more uncomfortable, his shifting gaze never lingering on anything for too long, before he spotted the bottle of disinfectant. To your surprise, he started wiping off tables, but you don’t breath a word, afraid to break the uncanny silence.

At 5:45, Eijirou, Midoriya, and a woman you could only assume was Uravity knocked, and Bakugou dropped the supplies as if he had been burned. Midoriya was the first to heckle him, teasing “Kacchan, I didn’t know that you could be helpful!”

“I was bored, you damn nerd. That’s all.”

The heroes were almost unrecognizably causal. Uravity and Midoriya were in matching letterman jackets, sky blue and patterned with delicate pink cherry blossoms falling from slender black branches, with Shouto written across the back in a beautiful script. Eijirou was also devastatingly casual, wearing baggy, low-rise black jeans and a white v-neck that dipped dangerously below his collar bones. His long red hair was up in his trademark loose ponytail, spilling over his shoulders and down his back.

“So nice to see you again! I’m Uraraka.” Her smile glowed as she bounced forward to greet you. “It’s nice to really see the place that Kirishima and Bakugo talk so much about.”

A frown creased your features. “I think I would have remembered Bakugou coming in for coffee. Doesn’t Kiri just get his?” You mumbled, panicking as you realized it was out loud.

Thankfully, Uraraka giggled. “No, he just won’t let Kiri get coffee from anywhere else now. I think the whole agency knows his order by now.”

“It’s just the least shitty.” Bakugou growled. “But whatever. I have shit to do, so let’s get this over with.”

“Lead the way.” Midoriya smiled kindly.

The stairs to the flat were in the kitchen, the door tucked out of sight next to a supply closet. Butterflies fluttered in your chest, and a sudden self-consciousness that almost froze you in place. The apartment was an intimate insight into your life and personality. Your reading was on the living room table, and cherished photos hung on the walls. Is my laundry hanging up to dry? You winced at the thought.

“Welcome!” You forced a smile and led them to the kitchen table. “So, what do you need to check out?”

“We’re not trying to invade your privacy more than necessary.” Midoriya looked solemn, glancing at you shyly from underneath his lashes. “I was thinking we should put a camera right in the stairway that faces the entrance, another on the fire escape, and one on the outside of each of your windows. Then, we can just set up a bunch around the café.”

“Oh,” You relaxed into your seat. “That’s not as bad as I was expecting.”

Midoriya and Uraraka were  sitting ram-rod straight at your table, posture stiff and schooled. Eijirou was examining your end table in the living room, carefully turning your favorite candle in his hands, while Bakugou trailed behind like a sullen shadow.

“We just want to make sure you’re safe.” Uraraka reassured. “We’ll probably change the patrol route to make sure that we stop by here, but we won’t be in the shop every time. If nothing is weird, we’ll leave you be after a while.”

“I’m glad.” The remaining tension left your shoulders, and you let out a sigh of relief. “I really don’t want to put my life on pause. I’ve worked really hard for what I have here. “

“Of course!” Eijirou looked over his shoulder, now surveying the sliding glass door that led to the fire escape. “This is the best place in town, and I don’t think I’ll ever stay awake through another Commission meeting without my usual again. Plus, we owe you big time. It’s our fault that you’re starting to get some media attention.”

“Do the cameras need plug-ins or batteries?” You asked cautiously.

“Nah,  they’re the special surveillance ones Chargebolt rigged, and we’ll get a notification if the battery is less than 25%. We’ve just gotta get them set up. Uraraka can up to stick them, then make ‘em weightless so they don’t fall down.”

At Eijirou’s words, you could see Uraraka tapping her fingers, jumping up to stick the device to the ceiling. With a frown of concentration, she pulled out her phone, checking the feed and fiddling with the camera until it was angled to her satisfaction before drifting back to the floor.

“We can take it from here. Feel free to go back to closing, or what you usually do in the evening. Don’t be afraid to let us know if you need anything.” Midoriya nodded before excitedly leaning in closer, eyes sparkling with the enthusiasm of a little kid. “Also, at some point, can I study your quirk? I keep notebooks of all different quirks I encounter, and yours is so interesting.”

“Shut your trap, nerd!” Bakugou growled from behind Eijirou, who jumped and clutched his partner’s arm. “Stop acting like we’re at the damn zoo. Save it for later.”

“Am not, Kacchan!” Midoriya whined. Turning to you, he put up his hands in a peace gesture. “I think we better get going, though. I think today’s probably been quite the day for you. Uraraka will set those up outside, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Snagging Bakugou’s sleeve, Midoriya pulled him unwillingly down the stairs, with Uraraka having already moved on to install the security cameras in the café. Despite his tough front, the blonde didn’t fight too much, only grimacing and batting away the other hero’s hand as they left.

“Hey Kiri,” You said nervously, before the hero had the chance to follow his teammates out of your apartment. “Thanks for having Bakugou come over to be there while I was closing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you guys said this morning. I just feel so uneasy, like every stranger could be dangerous and I can’t do anything to save myself. It really set my mind at ease to have someone else there.”

“I bet.” He winced with sympathy. “But I didn’t ship Bakugou out here. He volunteered, and you didn't hear that from me.”

[labelleofbelfastcity]

fig and gorgug’s excellent adventure

word count: 1.7k

read on ao3 here!

“Bill, my most esteemed colleague…”

Fig looks over at a quietly snoring Gorgug, his face softly lit by the shadows of Bill and Ted on her crystal. Even after a year of knowing each other, a few months of which were spent in a cramped cell together, she hadn’t known he snores. It had never been quiet enough, she had never been quiet enough, to notice that about him.

If Fig focuses, she can feel the rumble of the tour bus against her back, and, if she leans her head against the metal wall by her shoulder, the vibrations of tires over asphalt rattle around in her skull. They’ve only been on the road for a week, with just two concerts under their belts, and Fig is already kind of exhausted.

It’s a lot. The managers and the calls home and the makeup assignments for missed schoolwork. She probably wouldn’t even be doing the latter, but Gorgug spends his allotted midmorning time sitting at their extremely tiny table, with papers of Barbarian Theory and Engineering 1 scattered around him, and she’d feel like an asshole to just watch.

Fig hasn’t been sleeping well, either. The little bunk seems to press in around her, shoving her into an even smaller version of herself. Which feels stupid to complain about, because Gorgug is over a foot taller than her, since his growth spurt over the summer, and he’s sleeping just fine.

As if to prove her point, Gorgug shifts in his sleep, curling closer into Fig’s side. It’s just past one in the morning, and they have a gig tomorrow so Fig should really be sleeping too, but she’d felt like crying, for some reason, alone in her bunk. She’d crawled into Gorgug’s, instead, and pulled up Bill and Ted while he blinked blearily at her. It didn’t take him much longer to fall back asleep—now with his arm tucked around Fig’s shoulders—and Fig continues to hide from her emotions by watching Ted philosophize.

“Hey, Gorgug,” Fig hisses, burrowing her head into his chest in a way she knows will stick him with her horns. “Gorgug.”

“Hrmgh,” he grumbles, shifting more so that Fig can’t really poke him anymore. “Go to sleep.”

“No. Gorgug, hey. Come on, dude, I have an idea.” She doesn’t, really, more the idea of an idea, just like how Bill and Ted only operate on negative brian power and a pretty homoerotic bromance.

Homoerotic. She must’ve texted Kristen too much yesterday.

“Sleep is my idea,” Gorgug says, but it’s more of a sigh and a yawn wrapped up together and stretched like a yawning cat.

Fig’s brain unhelpfully supplies an image of sleepy Riz—ears cocked all funny and pupils absolutely giant. She shoves it back into the little chest lovingly marked “Bad Kids” that she’d constructed the second they drove away from Elmville because Fig is great at compartmentalizing and hiding her feelings. Totally.

“I’m bored, I want to do my idea.”

“You’re watching Bill and Ted.”

“No, I’m not. I’m talking to you.”

“Then stop talking to me and go to sleep.”

Fig huffs, about to say something just into the realm of mean, but then she feels Gorgug smile against the top of her head, and she relaxes a little.

“What’s your idea?” He asks, still sleepy, but also endearing in that goofy and sweet Gorgug way.

There’s a pause, while Fig tries to come up with her idea. The bus trundles along and Bill and Ted continue to kidnap historical figures. Finally, she says, much quieter than is warranted, like it’s some big secret she’s been holding close to her heart, “I’m gonna find a chronomancer so we can go back in time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug yawns again.

“Absolutely not, Augefort doesn’t have Rufus energy.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Maybe not a chronomancer, then, but like, someone who’s fucked with time, ya know. It would be cool to hang out with someone who’s fucked with time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug says, before amending, “No. Wait. Rufus.”

“Yeah, Rufus,” Fig agrees. “Except if Rufus were hot, I think it would be more fun if our Rufus was hot.”

“Rufus is already hot. He’s got… sunglasses.”

Fig giggles and Gorgug snorts too. “You need your eyes checked, dude.”

“We watched the,” he yawns, “the Matrix last month. That’s what you said about Neo.”

“Uh. Neo is Keanu Reeves so just, automatically hot. Which. Speaking of. Bill and Ted are right there, dude.”

Gorgug laughs, quietly, voice still gummy with sleep, as he pokes her gently in the side, “I thought you liked older men.”

Fig makes a face that is very scandalized and very affronted. “That doesn’t mean I like Rufus.”

Gorgug shrugs, as best he can while in cuddle-mode. “I don’t know…”

Fig huffs and whacks him on the arm. “Maybe we should go to sleep.”

“Works for me,” he says, and settles back down.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t go back to bed, Gorgug. I’m still talking.”

He grumbles and turns his head even further into hers, trying to shield his eyes from the crystal’s light. “Watch your movie.”

“This is our movie, Gorgug. It’s ours.”

“It’s too late for it to be ‘our’ anything.”

“You’re no fun, you know that? No fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Gorgug says, way too sincerely for her to continue down that line of teasing.

“Hey, no, it’s fine. You’re tired, I should let you rest.”

Gorgug’s hand moves where it’s on her shoulder, rubbing over her sleep shirt, and then pausing, “Hey, is this mine?”

“Um,” Fig says, because it is, in fact, his. He’d left one of his Owlbears t-shirts on a chair, right after they unpacked all their stuff onto the tour bus, and she’d thought about it for approximately three seconds before snatching it and chucking it at her pile of clothes.

That first night, neither her nor Gorgug had gotten any sleep, sitting on the floor of the bus between their bunks, anxiously going over lyric and style choices for the next night’s show. So the shirt had waited until after their first concert, when both of them had been too tired to do much more than change out of sweaty, smoke-filled clothes and fall into their respective beds. It had smelled comfortingly of the Thistlesprings’ homemade fabric softener, but Fig’s varying states of cleanliness have not helped the smell stick around.

Now, though, cuddled up against Gorgug’s chest, she doesn’t miss the shirt’s smell. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“It’s okay if you took it,” Gorgug says, cracking a small smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Since when do you have an eye for fashion, Mr. Hoodies-In-Summer?”

He reaches around and pokes her on the cheek, “Hey, my hoodies are a catch for women ages thirteen to twenty-eight.”

“We did sell, like, a literal ton last night,” Fig says, snorting.

There’s a lull in the conversation. Bill and Ted shred some sick air guitar.

“...It’s a little weird,” Gorgug says, eventually, in that introspective tone of his that promises paternal questioning.

“What is?”

“That we’re sophomores in high school and have so many people, like, caring about us. Or, I mean, watching us. Like, I guess we’re famous, or something? That’s weird.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.” Fig’s been too caught up in the whole being famous thing to think about what it means for her, a fifteen year old, to be famous. She isn’t a fan of thinking about it, actually, and decides to put it off even further. This is why Gorgug’s the thoughtful, considerate one.

“That’s probably why you’re better at songwriting than I am,” Gorgug muses. “You just do what feels right.”

Fig shifts a little, so she can look at him better, his features cast in the shifting colors of the crystal. “Dude, that’s like all drumming is. Like, just playing your emotions and not overthinking it. And you’re literally the world’s best drummer.”

“Oh,” Gorgug laughs, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“You are. What other teenager gets to go on a tour while they’re still in high school?”

“Um. The Jonas Brothers?”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if you compare our music to the Jonas Brothers again I will stab you with my horns.”

“I really don't think they’re poky enough to do that—”

“Stab, Gorgug. With force. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

“Wo-ah,” Ted says, on the crystal.

“Wicked,” Bill chimes in.

“What if we talked like them at our next concert?” Fig asks, “Just come out with full Bill and Ted voices and keep them up the whole show.”

“That sounds… hard.”

“No, it would be fun! Like, um,” Fig switches into the voice, drawing out her vowels and smiling dumbly, “we’ll totally get babes like this, dude.”

“You can get princess babes,” Gorgug says. “I’ve got Zelda. That’s basically the same thing.”

“Oh my god, you’re too cute,” Fig burrows closer to him, back in her usual voice.

She can tell Gorgug’s blushing by the bashful tone of his silence. “Um, thanks. I should probably call her tomorrow.”

“Do you mind if I join too? I really like her, she’s nice. And sick as hell.”

“Yeah, that would be fun! We can show her our set, maybe.”

“Totally! If school wasn’t on right now we could’ve brought her along.”

“I don’t know, wouldn’t that, like, Beatles us?”

“Did you seriously just mention another boy band? Also, beyond that, did you use the Beatles as a verb?”

“Er.”

“Sometimes, I wonder how you ever made it into the punk-rock scene. And then I remember that I invited you.”

“Thanks for doing that,” Gorgug says, wrapping his other arm around Fig’s shoulders. “I never really said it before, but, thank you. This has, um, it’s meant a lot to me.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, dude.”

“It’s, like, kind of everything right now, Fig.”

“Oh.”

“So, I guess, um, thank you. For inviting me to join a band with you and taking me on tour.”

“I, uh… Of course. Thanks for being my drummer, Gorgug. I’ll always take you on my adventures.”

“And I’ll always go with you.”

Bill says, “Excellent,” on the crystal screen, smiling at Ted with big eyes.

Yeah, Fig thinks, as Gorgug sighs and smiles into the top of her head. Excellent.

[mindswriters]

prank - jj maybank headcanon

summary: where jj is always pranking his girlfriend

a/n: I just saw the "DCS I know you're in there" scene again and got inspired, c'mon don't you guys think that jj is 100% the type of boyfriend who's always pranking his girl?

t/w: curse words, angst? fluff at the end

jj maybank is the dorkiest guy you've ever met

since elementary school he had always been the classclown

maybe that's one of the reasons why he would catch so much attention from all kinds of girls

and also because he's hot and handsome obviously

but you don't care about it anymore, 'cause flower you're the chosen one

sorry about that i'm addicted to left hand free

yeah you and jj started dating a few months ago

most of the times he would be soft and clingy and horny

but sometimes he would act like your dork best friend of always

and that would leave him in the mood to prank you

one time you were sleeping on john b's hammock and he woke you up with the sound of a ridiculous horn that he got from the salvage yard

"WHAT THE FUCK JJ"

and he would be laughing his ass off

and there's also that afternoon you guys were at the chateau, but while everyone was chillin on the backyard you were on the spare room doing your homework

"hey babe, can you come here? it's urgent!" you heard jj yell for the thousandth time

you rolled your eyes and sighed heading to where the pogues were

"fuck jj, I'm trying to study, what do you want this ti-

you were saying when you pass throught the porch door and felt a tape wraping your face

"GOTCHA" the blonde screamed and everyone burst into laughs while you were snitching trying to unravel the tape that covered your eyes

scaring you by hiding behind the doors was jj's routine

the worst one was definitelly the hair dryer one

you had just gotten out of the shower and put on the clothes you were gonna wear to the kegger night

in your way back to the bathroom, you saw jj laying on the couch with his phone and tought he was just checking his insta models

but suddenly when you turned on your hair dryer you felt suffocated with a huge amount of dust covering all your face and hair

he had put flour in the hair dryer.

"I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GONNA KILL YOU MAYBANK"

and only after taking another shower, you pick up your cell phone and come across dozens of messages in the Pogues' group chat

"y/n looking like a ghost" "you're the worst jj" "so that's why u guys are late"

were some of your friends' responses to the video jj sent of you coming out of the bathroom covered in flour while he was laughing to death

dispite this time when you get really mad for taking two baths in a row, you didn't mind jj's pranks at all

it is funny and you always end up laughing with him or with your friends

except from one time, at the beach, when he decided to do a more elaborate prank

"hey guys, I need your help to prank y/n" he said to his two best friends while they're at the sea laying above their surfboards

you were at the sand, hanging with kie and sarah when you heard pope yelling from the shore

"girls! I think we have a problem!"

you turned around to see what he was talking about and saw an unconsious jj laying between john b and pope's shoulders

"oh my god jj!" followed by the girls, you quickly stood up runing to meet the boy

"what happened? is he breathing?" kie asked

"yes, he tried to crash a wave and didn't resurfaced, we found him unconcious" john b explained while dropping his friend in the sand

"hey j? jj? talk to me, you okay?" you get on your knees patting the boy on the face

no answear.

"jj come on, please" you whined keeping the wet, blonde wicks off his face

you weren't paying so much attention on your friends, but assumed they were nervous too

"please baby" you cupped his face in your hands and touched your foreheads, closing your eyes

your were almost crying when you felt slight giggles hiting your face

you immediatly pulled out and frowned seeing jj with open eyes and laughing out loud

"I can't believe I got you again! Did you guys see their faces?" he kept laughing now followed by pope and jb

"fuck off jj" kie muttered and sarah just rolled her eyes sighing before they head back to their previous spot

"ah come on, it was funny!" he yelled and you couldn't help a pout when you stared at his face

soon you felt the tears filling up your eyes and hid your face on your hands

the three boys who were still there with you shared confused looks

jj stood up by his elbows "why are you crying honey? I was just joking" he softly said

"you scared me j" you refuse to look up at him while trying to wipe your wet cheeks

"i- i'm sorry baby, i didn't meant it" he sat up in the sand and wrapped his arms around you

"don't you ever scare me like that again" you sobbed against his chest

"shh it's okay, i'm okay, i'm not doing it again" he caressed your hair until you calm down

"you promise?" you looked up staring deep at his blue eyes

"promise" he nodded "no more death pranks from now on"

you chuckled smirking and he pecked your lips in a soft kiss

"you guys already done with all the 'i don't wanna lose you' bullshit?" john b yelled, you didn't even noticed him and pope joining the girls

"you're accomplices, you should apologize too!" you laugh yelling back

this day jj promised he would stop pranking on you, but from time to time he still hide behind the doors

and you don't actually care, as long as he cover you with kisses after that

that's my first headcanon, hope it didn't sucked ;-;

[superman86to99]

Superman #84 (December 1993)

Superman takes a short Paris vacation! Like, one day short. What's the worst that could happen?

Oh, man.

So, for the past few issues, we've been hearing about children being abducted in Metropolis. Now we see that they're being kept inside a giant toy house by some creepy bald man in Quasimodo clothes who seems to be obsessed with toys -- a "Man of Toys," if you will. Side note: no wonder the children haven't been found... all the articles about them are just gibberish! (See clip below.)

The kidnapper thinks that these kids' parents don't deserve them, and that they're much better off here, in an underground hideout with a man who threatens to starve them if they don't play with him. (And I do mean literally play, with action figures and stuff.) Meanwhile, as these children cry for help, Superman is having the time of his life. While helping move a stranded ship with some huge-ass chains, Superman spots a sunken galleon with a treasure chest inside and fantasizes about keeping the booty...

...before turning it over to the authorities anyway, the big boy scout. Then, he wakes up Lois at 6 AM and tells her they should go to Paris right now, which usually means your significant other is having a mental breakdown, but in this case they can actually do it. And so, after deciding that he deserves to use his powers for fun every once in a while, Superman and Lois drop everything and fly to France with super-speed for the rest of the day/issue.

Anyway: back to the child abduction! Cat Grant and her son Adam attend a Halloween party at Adam's school, but there's a disturbed weirdo in a hideous costume lurking among the crowd. Yes, I'm talking about Jimmy Olsen in his Turtle Boy suit.

Shortly after that, a guy in a dinosaur costume (see, all the creeps are dressed as reptiles) lures Adam out of the party with the promise of "superb video games." What child could resist that? Of course, that turns out to be the kidnapper and Adam ends up in his hideout along with the rest of the missing children and, worst of all, not a single "Lextendo" console.

The kidnapper gets angry at Adam when he refers to the toys at the hideout as "old-fashioned junk" (he was REALLY looking forward to those video games), and even angrier when Adam tries to free the other kids. Adam is brave and puts up a good fight, but...

And those were Adam Morgan's final words. "Uh-oh."

Next, we have a pretty harrowing scene of Detective Turpin letting Cat know Adam’s body was found, and Jimmy and Perry White taking her to the morgue to identify the body (most people probably wouldn't bring their former boss to something like that, but Perry sadly knows more than most about losing a kid). As for Lois and Clark, they were gone so long that the Daily Planet had time to print a headline about the murders. The issue ends when the lovebirds walk into the office smiling like two people who just spent the night fooling around in Paris... only to feel like jackasses when they find out what happened.

To be continued!

Character-Watch:

And that's it for little Adam Morgan who, unlike the also tragically diseased Jerry White, didn't even get any post-death appearances. Adam went from a little kid scared of Superman, to a huge brat, to a character who was approaching likeability as of last week. That's why I hate it when DC kills off young characters like Adam or Liam Harper: in long-form storytelling, children represent potential. Look at how much Wally West or Dick Grayson evolved over the years compared to their mentors! Sure, there's a huge probability that Adam would have ended up disappearing from comics for 25 years anyway, but who knows, maybe we'd now know him as Teen Gangbuster or something. GangbusTEEN.

This issue also represents a turning point for the kidnapper, who is never named or seen clearly in the story itself but I don't think I'm shocking anyone by spoiling the fact that he's Toyman (it's in the cover, for one thing). In his last two appearances before this storyline, Toyman helped Superman save some kids from Sleez and looked genuinely sad to learn about Superman's death, so this is a pretty dramatic change for the character. We'll find out why he went from big softy to child killer in Superman #85 (but don't get your hopes up).

Plotline-Watch:

The most disturbing part of the issue, all things considered, is still the part where Toyman climbs into a giant crib and hugs a huge stuffed bunny. Look at serial killer Tommy Pickles here:

Don Sparrow says:  “Even with the upgrade, Toyman is still just a man in a suit, a common complaint about Superman’s rogues gallery.” Funny you should say that, because I JUST shared an old Wizard interview in our Twitter in which Dan Jurgens talks about how Doomsday came out of his frustration with the fact that most Superman villains are dudes in suits (plus other interesting tidbits from the era, like how it was actually Roger Stern’s idea to bring back Hank Henshaw, so check out that link!).

Don again: “The entire Superman storyline of this issue feels like filler. Diving for buried treasure and soaring off to Paris -- it all feels like wasted time next to the Adam storyline.” I have a theory that the entire ship sequence is there as an excuse to put Superman in those big chains and make that Spawn joke (which I didn’t get until now, since I’ve always read this issue in Spanish).

Superman says that pulling that big ship was "a little easier than expected" -- that's either another hint that there's something going on with Superman's powers since he came back, or a subtle dig at the state of American ship manufacturing.

Another adorable "window tap" scene for the books, and this is the sexiest one so far. Is it me or has Jurgens started copying more than just Teri Hatcher's hairdo from Lois & Clark? (For anyone who thinks Lois has gotten implants, I refer you to this clip.)

While in Paris, Lois asks Clark if he's ever wondered what would happen if his rocket had landed in other countries. Don: “Clark’s conversation with Lois sounds like a bunch of concepts for Elseworlds stories. We eventually would see a Russian Superman, and a British Superman, but not yet the French Superman. (Hire us, DC!)” Yep, got my French Superman pitch ready, Jim Lee. Or just let us do Russian Superman again, since Red Son wasn’t even the first time you published that idea.

Don once more: “Another thing that makes no sense about the ‘new’ Toyman is his resentment of technological toys—when in previous appearances he himself had deadly high-tech toys to vex Superman over the years.” I especially resent his hatred of video game consoles. Incidentally, I wonder what types of games are available for Adam’s beloved Lextendo. Star Lex 64? Mega Man Lex? Sonic the Hedgehog 3 & Knuckles & Lex?

No one is more upset at Lois and Clark for going AWOL than Whit. NO ONE. He's so furious that his usually grey mustache turned black.

Patreon-Watch:

As always, shout out to our patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Samuel Doran, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush and Raphael Fischer! Last month’s exclusive Patreon article was about the recently unearthed sequel to Superman 64 for the PlayStation, featuring Metallo, Parasite, and Lois looking even hotter than in this issue:

Hot damn. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99!

And believe it or not, Don Sparrow has even more to say about this issue. Read his section after the jump:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

I should start off my section with a big caveat:  I flat out hate this issue. There were several weird decisions made in the post-Death-and-Return era (most of them along the same lines of making the Superman titles more grim-and-gritty), and this story was one of the worst of them.  My theory is that, despite the praise and record-breaking sales of the Death and Return storyline, the Superman creative team felt pressure to have more extreme storylines, perhaps in response to the wildly successful Image books coming out at the time.  Between this story, and the upcoming “Spilled Blood” storyline, the Super books take a hard—but temporary--turn into more violent and upsetting storytelling—even though these stories are by the same writers as the previous few years. While death has always been a part of comics, and Superman comics was no exception, there is a jarring glibness and unfeeling toward the way violence is handled in these pages that is quite different from the stories that preceded it.  It’s made all the more jarring by the fact that well-established personalities suddenly veer wildly out of character, Toyman chief among them.  

We start with the cover, and while it is technically well-drawn (by the familiar team of Jurgens and Breeding) it’s also a very upsetting visual.  I think they should have gone with the pieta type pose with Adam and Superman, OR the scary badass bowie-knife Toyman (who apparently has a Cheshire cat smile now) but not both.  But the cover is a good hint at the tonal dissonance of the comic within.

We open with a splash of the now-extreme 90s looking Toyman, with his serial killer shaved head and spooky cloak, ignoring the pleas of hungry kids he has locked up in a tiny jail cell for days at a time (if that sentence doesn’t ring alarm bells for how wrong this is for a Superman story, I don’t know what will). For much of the issue Toyman’s eyes are obscured by glare on his lenses, further de-humanizing a character who was once one of Superman’s more empathetic bad guys.

We cut to Superman tugboating a huge tanker with giant chains and it’s a cool visual (one repeated in the Batman V Superman film).  It feels especially out of place to focus on, given how upsetting this issue is otherwise, but throughout the whole comic, Lois is drawn smoking hot, especially on the two page spread on pages 9-10.

The scenes depicting the actual murder, while still wildly out of place in a Superman comic, are well done, and give a real sense of darkness and menace, which I suppose is the intent.  Perhaps my least favourite visual is the Big Bird stuffie, silently bearing witness to what’s about to occur.

The edges of the panels on get more slashy and off-kilter (to me, looking very much like the layouts more typically seen in Image comics of the day) and I suppose I appreciate the restraint of how little Dan Jurgens shows of the death of a child, showing only a bloody slash on a black background.  This is still a pretty baroque image for a Superman comic, but certainly less violent than it could be, given what is happening.

Cat Grant’s silent horror is well staged, and powerful in its way.   Lastly, Clark Kent bending in sorrow and regret is a powerful image.

While this issue is handled marginally better, and more maturely than other comics on the shelf at this time, I still believe it is one of the biggest mistakes of the era.  Giving a long-established character an unceremonious death for shock value is gross on its own, but making it a child definitely crosses a line for me.  Making it worse is that, while the Toyman is a criminal and a killer, he has shown in past issues (a similar kidnapping storyline involving Sleez) that he genuinely cares for the well-being of children.  So for a long-time reader, this also felt like a betrayal of a long-established, fully developed character.   Adding to the ugliness of this is that Adam dies heroically, trying to free the children who have been caged, unfed, for days, but even in that regard, he fails.  The headline at the end of the issue confirms all the children are dead.  Adam’s death did not buy the other kids enough time to get away. It was all for nothing. Had Adam died, but the other children lived, maybe this issue wouldn’t leave quite as bad a taste. [Max: It’s weird because it’s all told in a way where it’s told in a way where it would make sense, narratively and within the story universe, that the other kids survived, but then it’s almost casually revealed that nope, they died too. A scene of one of the kids relaying Adam’s heroism to Cat in a future issue would have gone a long way.]

Superman doesn’t come off well in these pages, either.  It’s honestly the type of story they should just stay away from, because the more you think about all the calamity that is going on around the clock, the less defensible the whole Clark Kent persona becomes. Superman carving out time to romance his fiancée directly led to the preventable deaths of innocent children—how do you come back from that?

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I’m always looking for hints that perhaps Jimmy or Perry know Superman’s secret identity deep down, and Jimmy’s anger at Lois and Clark on their return to the Daily Planet offices would seem to give that theory some credence, as he’s as angry at them as if he knew Clark really were Superman.  Either that, or he’s ticked that it fell to him, and none of them to escort Cat into the morgue. [Max: Has this issue finally converted you to the “Jimmy is terrible” side now, Don?]

I don’t think I’m the only one who disliked the new Toyman—SPOILERS BE HERE: years later, in Action Comics #865, Geoff Johns retconned this whole story, reverting Schott into the criminal who over-relates to kids, rather than the child-killer of this story.  Apparently the infantile Schott, who speaks to “Mother” a la Norman Bates, is a robot so lifelike it fools even Superman, and the “Mother” he’s constantly replying to was the real Winslow Schott trying to recall the malfunctioning robot. [Max: That’s one Geoff Johns retcon I really didn’t mind, even if it felt kind of derivative of his similar “all the Brainiacs are robots made by the real Brainiac” reveal.]

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 10

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, minor angst, FLUFF!!

A/N: This is NOT the final chapter. There is one more after this one that we’ll call a mini chapter or epilogue. Per the usual: this fic is simply for fun and I mean no disrespect to any of the actors mentioned in the fic. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 4,167

Catch up with Chapter 9

***

Avoidance really wasn’t the word that you would use to describe what you were doing with Chris. You just didn’t know your place in his life and every day was getting harder to define that line. He was hot and cold with you. So, you kept your head down, figuratively of course, and tried to maintain that friendship line that he had put in place a couple of months ago.

After that night you agreed to work on his film, he came back to the bar during your next shift and hung out with you until close. He crashed your lunch date with Scott a few days later, showing up with a smile on his face and Scott lagging behind with eyebrows raised. But after that, you didn’t hear from him until a month before filming was to begin. It was a brief call to let you know you would receive your contract via carrier and that your flight would be arranged shortly. Filming would last two months but he wanted you to stick around an additional month when editing began because per Chris, he wanted your input. This project was his baby. His exact words were “I need you here.” How could you say no?

You were staying with Chris which is what made the avoidance or non-avoidance, whatever you were doing, hard to actually accomplish. You were fine with staying at the hotel the non-local crew were staying in, but Chris refused. He got very alpha with you on that topic and you had to admit, it turned you on a bit. But you couldn’t go there because Chris didn’t see you that way anymore.

The hot and cold thing was hard to describe. He’d casually throw his arm around you when the two of you were going over scenes, whether other people were around or not. He’d pull you into conversations with the AD and cinematographer to get your opinion, often keeping hold of your hand. The next day he’d be in a mood and barely speak to you, let alone glance your way. The cast would often look to you to be the go between because they knew he was in a mood. You knew it was stress. It had to be, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t confuse you. On those days you’d grab a bite to eat at a restaurant to give him space, often returning to your room in his house at night without as much as a hello.

Friendships are hard. That’s the bottom line.

***

“Adam! Reset! Jesus!” Chris yelled causing you to visibly wince. “Y/N!”

“I’m on it. I’m on it,” you mumbled mostly to yourself walking briskly towards Adam Scott who was getting touched up by makeup.

“He’s in a mood,” Adam sighed.

“It’s been a long week.” Why you were making excuses for Chris was beyond you. That’s all you been doing lately. “I think he wants a little more…” You gestured wildly with your hands. “Gusto. Yeah, gusto.”

Adam raised and eyebrow to you. “Gusto?”

“You know what I mean. He wants a big reaction, so give it to him. I thought the take was fine, but I’m not directing. Let’s give him that additional option.

Adam gave you a hint of a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Maybe I can do it better.”

“You’re the best,” you said over your shoulder as you walked back to Chris who chugging down a cup of coffee and going over notes.

“All good?”

“Yep. We’re ready whenever you are.” You plopped your butt in Chris’ chair since he preferred to stand during takes.

The scene ran again without interruption and the next scene was called for setup meaning you had about fifteen to twenty minutes.

Getting up from the canvas chair, you made your way to the coffee station in the far corner of the sound stage. The small liquid cream containers were missing from their designated bowl again which made your eyes roll. Someone was hogging them; you just didn’t know who.

“Shoot.”

Craft Services was an option, but you didn’t feel like making the trek across the lot. You picked up the powdered cream and mixed it into the paper cup. Powder is always a last resort. It never mixed properly and you could always taste it. But you were desperate for your caffeine fix.

“Liquid all gone?” Chris asked, stepping up beside you, grabbing his own fresh cup.

“Yes. Again!”

“I’ve got some in my trailer,” he offered.

“That’s not any closer than Craft Service, so you’re not helping,” you said dryly.

Chris chuckled lightly, turning to lean against the table as you mixed your cup with a flimsy plastic straw. “Glad to be done with that scene.”

“I’m glad you were happy with the last take,” you replied, turning around to lean next to him.

“Once Scott quits flirting, he does pretty good work.”

You choked on your coffee causing Chris to chuckle again. “Flirting with who?”

“You.”

“Adam is not flirting with me!” you shouted. “He’s married and has kids,” you said much softer, trying to control the level of your voice. “His wife was here last week. She asked me to join her book club for goodness sake.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said, bringing the cup slowly to his lips, but keeping his eyes on you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you added with a head shake.

Yes, you fangirled when you met Adam for the first time. Parks and Recreation was one of your favorite shows. Still is.

“Adam is not a cheater and neither am I.”

“Maybe so, but you’re a liar.” Chris challenged.

Tears instantly welled in your eyes. You thought he was over it or at the very least accepted your apology. You bit your tongue, trying to find the right words and willing yourself not to cry at his remark.

“You’re lucky we’re at work, otherwise I’d tell you to go fuck yourself,” you said harshly before walking away.

Fuck him.

“Fahck. Y/N! Wait!” Chris called after you, quickly catching up.

You stopped abruptly, swinging around to face him. The action caught Chris off guard as you heard him suck in a breath as his eyebrows shot up.

“Not now,” you warned before turning back to where the next scene was being set up. “Are we all set?” you asked to no one in particular. It wasn’t your job to ask, but you needed the distraction and you weren’t in the mood to talk to Chris.

A couple of non-committal hums and murmured words were spoken. You kept your eyes on your script, scribbling nonsense among the various notes you had already written. Chris’ eyes were on you. You could feel them. But now was not the time to dive into what was going on between the two of you.

***

Immediately after the scene, you tucked your script in your armpit and pulled your phone out of your back pocket, hightailing it to your office.

Y/N: Can I stay with you tonight?

Chris wasn’t behind you, which was a good thing. You snuck out of there when you saw that he was stuck in a conversation with one of the producers. Making it to your office in record time, you shut the door and finally took a breath. Today was a day that you really appreciated having a door. Chris made sure that you had one, after you mentioned only having a desk on the last shoot. It really needed a lock though.

Darn lockless door.

Scott: I’m not staying with Jen. I’m at my mother’s.

You were desperate.

Y/N: Would she mind if you had a guest??

Two seconds later, your phone rang.

“Hi Scott.”

“Hi Y/N. Whaaaaaat’s going on?” Scott asked with amusement in his voice.

You blew out a breath, plopping yourself down on the small loveseat next to your desk. “He’s still mad at me.”

“Who’s mad at you?”

“Your brother. Who else?” Hearing the annoyance in your voice, you followed that up with a quiet, ‘sorry’.

“Oh boy. Well, I’m staying at Ma’s and don’t you think that would be an awkward conversation to have with her as to why you want to stay at her place?”

“Yeah,” you said softly.

“How do you know he’s still mad at you?” Scott asked.

“Well, besides the fact that he called me a liar this afternoon, he’s been hot and cold with me. He’s been real pissy at the crew as well.”

“You two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, getting a little defensive.

“It means you really need to work your shit out.”

“Yeah, I know…But I don’t wanna.” Scott chuckled at your comment. “Could you come over? I could use a friend right now. I know he’s your brother, but if he’s just going to be moody, I don’t even want to go home.”

“He is my brother, but even I’m inclined to think he’s jerk now and again.” That made you smile. “I’ll stop by. Even pick up some pizza.”

“Thank you, my favorite Evans.”

“Appreciate the flattery sweetheart. See you later.”

“Bye, Scott.”

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into the sofa. Avoiding Chris forever was not an option, but at least with Scott there, you’d be able to keep your emotions under control for the night. The buzz of your phone brought your mind out of the fog like haze.

Chris: Are you heading home?

Home. Now that was a funny thing. When Chris wasn’t pushing you away, it did feel like home. But it wasn’t your home. Not really. You are a guest and Chris is your host.

Y/N: Yeah. Getting ready to take off for the day.

You chewed on your bottom lip waiting for his reply. You really hoped he wasn’t planning on stopping by your office before you left.

Your cell buzzed again indicating another text was received.

Chris: I have a few things to finish up here, then I’ll be home.

Deciding not to reply, you grabbed your bag, stuffed your script and laptop into it, and left the studio.

***

You cleaned up your room a bit, even though it wasn’t particularly dirty. The bed was made and besides a few pieces of clothing that didn’t make it into the hamper, it was mostly clean. Dodger was fed and you had let him outside when you first made it back to Chris’ house. Scott would be at the door any minute and you really hoped he’d beat Chris home. Why? Because apparently you were twelve years old again. You were one step away from locking yourself in your bedroom with angsty music from the nineties playing on full blast.

The doorbell rang and along with it, your body relaxed. Jogging to the door, you threw it open to let Scott in, who came armed with two cardboard pizza boxes.

“Hey sweets!”

You grabbed the boxes from his hands, bringing them both into the kitchen so that Scott could step out of his shoes.

“Thanks for dinner, bunches,” you replied.

“No problem.”

“Two though?” you asked, while grabbing a couple of plates from the cupboard.

Scott walked into the kitchen, giving you a hug from behind. “Even the jerk has to eat.”

“I suppose your right. I’m not sure when he’s going to be home. I’ll turn the oven on low and stick a few pieces on a cookie sheet to keep them warm.”

“So domestic!” Scott teased.

“Shut it bunches.”

Scott gasped out a laugh. “Are we throwing darts at Chris’ old head shots. I know where he hides them if that’s part of the plan.”

You turned around and threw your arms around him in a fit of giggles. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“Yeah, me too sweets,” Scott mumbled into your hair.

***

Scott had insisted on watching Spice World since you had never seen it, but you mentioned watching the Sandy Duncan version of Peter Pan when you were a kid and Scott couldn’t get it out of his head now. So, that’s what the two of you decided to watch. After a quick search YouTube, you found it and watched it through the Roku on the large flat screen in the living room. Sandy was flying around the Darlings’ bedroom when the front door opened.

“Hey. Didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” Chris said, presumably to Scott.

“Yeah, sweets and I are hanging out. Your welcome to join us,” Scott replied.

You kicked his foot with your own. Scott scowled at you and you shrugged your shoulders in return.

“There’s a…there’s pizza in the oven for you,” you said keep your eyes on the screen.

“Thanks,” Chris replied, flicking the back of Scott’s ear as he walked by.

“You can’t avoid him. And this is house, of course I’m going to offer that he joins us.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, eyes going back to the TV.

Chris walked back in the room a few minutes later, sitting in the arm chair that was angled toward the side of the couch you were sitting on. He kicked up his feet on the cushion your body was half laying half sitting on. Turning your head to look at him, he bounced his eyebrows at you before turning his head to the TV.

“Sandy Duncan? God, I used to love this.”

Scott shushed Chris and you smiled.

***

The video ended and you stood up to stretch, Scott following suit. Chris disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to grab another bottle of beer.

“Welp! I’m out of here,” Scott announced, walking to the door to slip his shoes back on.

“What?” you whispered yelled, following after him.

“You two need to talk. And I mean really talk. None of this, I forgive you bullshit, let’s be friends. You know it. He knows it. We all fucking know it.”

You stood there with your mouth agape letting his statement sink in.

“Night Chris!” Scott yelled with the door already open.

Chris jogged back into the room, two beers in his hand. “You taking off already?”

“Yeah, I’m beat. Talk to you both tomorrow,” he said, stepping out and closing the door.

You stood there starring at the closed door, clearly not sure what you were supposed to do in that moment. Turning around and facing away from a closed door was a good option. Deciding you’d been standing there a second too long, you turned around to see Chris looking at you with beers still in hand. A small smile tugged on your lips.

“Beer?” He offered taking a step closer to you.

Taking the last few steps to meet him, you took the bottle he offered from his hand, fingers grazing his. “Thanks. I’m probably going to head to my room for the night.”

“Wait. Please? Could we…talk for a minute?”

Bringing the bottle to your lips, you took a long pull before lowering it and nodding. The two of you turned back to the couch Scott and you had occupied moments before. You sat on opposite ends, but both turned to face one another. You finding comfort in your bottle which you drank from again, before noticing it was half gone.

Chris licked his lips, finger tapping audibly on the bottle. “I didn’t mean it. What I said earlier today when I called you a liar. I don’t truly believe that. I was being an asshole. I’m an asshole sometimes. I know that about myself.”

His honesty surprised you. You didn’t know how to answer, so you simply nodded.

“This movie is stressing me out. When it’s your movie, it’s a lot of pressure. I want to put out a good film, it needs to be good. So, all this pressure puts me on edge. Everyone’s doing a good job and doing what they should be doing, but I have these moments where it doesn’t feel right. It’s not perfect. If it’s not perfect I have to take the fall. Who’s going to fund a film with a shitty director who puts out a shitty product?”

“It’s not shitty, Chris. The play backs I’ve seen have been amazing.”

“It’s in my head though. I don’t think I’ll stop being stressed until it’s released to be honest.”

“I get it, but…”

“But that’s not the only thing,” he interrupted. “It’s us too. You.”

“Me?” you asked, eyebrows creasing.

“I’m honestly and completely not upset about the engagement thing. It was something you had to do for a job and I’m over it.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But we went right back as if nothing happened.”

“If you’re over it and you’ve forgiven me, why can’t we move on?” you asked honestly.

“I don’t want to move on as if nothing happened.” Chris closed his eyes, mouth opening as he pulled in a big breath. “That night where you told me the truth, I told you my truth as well. I’m crazy about you Y/N and it seems like we’ve forgotten all about that. And you kissed me! How can we act like none of that happened? That none of that mattered?”

“Figured you didn’t feel that way anymore,” you mumbled before clearing your throat. “That the lie was too big and the secret was too big that you didn’t see me like that. Like someone you could care about. More than a friend.”

Chris set his bottle on the coffee table and scooted closer to you on the couch. He grabbed the bottle from your hand, placing it beside his. He took both of your hands in his, playing with the ring on your right hand with his thumb.

“Not possible.”

The words were so simple yet so deep that you felt your heart banging wildly against your ribcage.

“I still want you. Want us,” you whispered.

Chris’ lips curved up into a hesitant opened mouth smile. He brought your hands to his mouth, kissing each one, before lowering them back down between you. “That’s all I want.”

You lifted yourself to your knees, leaning in closer to him, but wanting him to decide what happens next. You kissed him the first time, it was his turn to make the move.

It didn’t take him long to decide as he let go of one of your hands, bringing it to the back of your neck and pulling you down to his lips. They were as soft as you remembered. His kissed you tenderly, with no rush, as if the two of you had all night. You pulled back slightly and gave him a smile.

“That was nice,” you said softly.

“I’m not done.”

Chris pulled your mouth back to his, kissing you gently until you felt his tongue skim along your seam. You opened immediately, allowing him entrance. He rolled his tongue along yours as you trailed your hand up his chest, along his neck, and into his hair.

The two of you made out for what felt like hours. You straddled his lap and eventually he positioned you both so that you were laying on the couch. It was kept mostly PG13 with kisses, whispered words, and a lot of cuddling. It was nice. Better than nice and you knew this wouldn’t be the end of it.

***

Chris: Can you come to my trailer? We need to go over scene 28.

Scene 28 was code for ‘I want to kiss you’. The two of you had been sneaking around on set for a week. You still hadn’t gone further than second base which was fine by you since you wanted to take this slow. Plus, you were working together. Working together and starting up a relationship could be complicated. Filming would be wrapped in a couple of weeks, and you had already committed to staying an additional month for the start of editing.

Your relationship with Chris right now was in this tight fairytale bubble that you didn’t want to pop. There was no talk of the future. Not even talk about how you’d spend the holidays. Whether it was Chris or if it was all you, either way, you wanted to stay in this bubble.

You quickly grabbed your script along with a pen and made the quick walk from the studio offices to Chris’ trailer. The sneaking around was thrilling. It was your own private secret that only you and Chris shared. No one was following you, but you couldn’t help but glance behind you every few seconds.

You reached Chris’ trailer, knocking twice on the closed door. Chris opened it wide, looking around to see if anyone was watching the two of you. They weren’t.

“Hey! You wanted to go over that scene?” you asked too loudly.

“Ye-yeah. Come on in Y/N.”

They two of you were so good at this game.

You stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind you. Chris grabbed your script and pen before you had a chance to set them down. With his free hand, he grabbed your elbow and brought you to him, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against your lips.

You gave him a chaste kiss. “I just saw you this morning.”

He kissed you again. “Yeah, that was hours ago.”

You laughed, wrapping both arms around his neck as Chris started walking the two of you backwards to the bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours. Your calves hit the end of the bed, so you lowered your bottom to the soft mattress. Chris lowered himself over you and dragged the two of you up the bed until your head hit the pillows.

“Can’t wait until we don’t have to hide this. Us,” he said against your ear, mouth leaving wet kisses along the length of your neck.

“Me too. This is fun though,” you moaned when his tongue traced the shell of your ear.

“It is. But I want to take you out and not have people whispering about us,” he said, causing you to giggle. “What?” His face pulled back to look at your own.

“Well, you are Chris Evans. They’re going to stare and whisper about you no matter what.”

“Shut it,” Chris replied, kissing your nose.

***

“Are you ready babe?” Chris called from the hallway outside your room.

“Just about,” you called back finishing your hair in the mirror attached to the closet door.

Grabbing your lip balm from the dresser, you stock it in the pocket of your jeans and joined Chris in the living room.

“Wow. You look great,” Chris drawled out.

You looked down at your dark jeans, boots, and burgundy sweater. “This?”

Chris wrapped you in his arms. “Just beautiful.”

You kissed his perfect pout. “You’re too kind Mr. Evans. Now, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Chris interlaced your fingers and pulled you to the door.

Dinner was at Chris’ mother’s house tonight. It wasn’t the first time; in fact, it was the fifth time not including brunch one Sunday since you came to town. You had met the whole Evans clan minus his father and you truly liked them all. You missed your family back home in the Midwest, so being around a close bunch such as the Evans made you happy.

“Ma! We’re here!” Chris yelled as the two of you walked into her home.

“You don’t need me to make yourselves comfortable,” Lisa said, peeking her head outside the kitchen.

“Hi Lisa,” you said with a wave, Chris still holding your other hand.

“Hi sweetie. Dinner should be ready in five. You know where the drinks are.”

“Sure do.”

You pulled Chris in the kitchen with you, not that you needed him to accompany you, but he wouldn’t let go of your hand. Chris released your hand when you gave him a look. You needed both your hands to grab glasses from the upper cupboard after all.

Digging into the fridge, you pulled out a pitcher of lemonade no doubt made by Lisa that afternoon. You poured two glasses and put the pitcher back in the refrigerator before handing Chris his glass, only for him to set it on the counter. He took your free hand in his once again.

“Ma,” he said, Lisa turning from the stove to look at him. “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”

Lisa chuckled as did you. Her face one of confusion. “Christopher, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling wonderful ma.”

Lisa stood in front of the two of you. “Then why are you introducing me to Y/N who I already know?”

“Well,” Chris started, coy smile on his face. “I’d like to introduce you to Y/N, my girlfriend.”

A surprised smile sprung up on your face as you squeezed Chris’ hand tightly.

“Oh! This is quite the development. When did this start?” she asked pointing between the two of you.

“A little more than two weeks ago,” he replied, throwing arm around your shoulder.

“Well, then I say, it’s about time,” Lisa replied, giving you a wink and turning back to the stove. “But how’s this going to work when Y/N goes back home to California?”

That was a question the two you in your fairytale bubble hadn’t yet discussed, but would need to.

***

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[thebrotherssalvatore321]

Keeping Secrets Ch. 27

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairings: Damon x Oc, Tyler x Oc for a hot minute, Elijah x Oc for a hotter minute, Klaus x Oc endgame. Warning: Mental and physical abuse in some chapters.

Alaric spoke to one of his buddies at Duke University and got Katie into a three week medical internship program for students who want to pursue a career in the medical field. While she was there, away from Mystic Falls and the vampire/werewolf craziness, she started to change. She felt free and more herself than she had in a long time. It only made her more eager and excited to get into college and out of Mystic Falls.

Her third day there they were given a tour of the nearby hospital’s neonatal unit and nursery. “Babies who are not held, nuzzled, and hugged enough can stop growing and if the situation lasts long enough, the baby may even die.” The instructor who was leading around the group of students told them where they stood in the middle of the room full of clear hospital bassinets and incubators, a few of which held babies. “Baby Smith here is a prime example.” She told them as she walked over to a bassinet with a baby inside wrapped up like a burrito in a white hospital blanket. “Her father signed all rights over before she was born and her mother passed away during the birth.”

“So she’s orphaned.” Katie was talking more to herself than the nurse, but she caught the nurse’s attention.

“Yes.” The instructor answered. “What is your name?”

“Katie.” She answered.

“Katie, would you like to hold her?” she asked, putting Katie on the spot. “She needs all the love she can get.” Katie just nodded and stepped through the group to the hospital bassinet. “Do you know how to hold her?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Katie answered with a smile down at the baby as she gently slid her hand under her head and another under her back. As she picked up the tiny baby and moved her into the crook of her arm, making sure to support her head, it started crying. “Hey, sweetheart, no tears.” Katie told the baby softly, temporarily forgetting about the other people in the room. “I got you, it’s alright.” She started gently bouncing the baby, humming a lullaby and the baby’s cries quieted.

“You have the magic touch. Baby Smith usually cries the whole time she’s being held.” The instructor told her with an impressed look. “Does anyone else want to give it a try?” Katie almost didn’t want to let the baby go, but she knew she had too.

--That night—

~Dream~

Elijah opened the door of their cabin, letting Fiona, who was cradling a six month old baby in her arms, inside. “He is absolutely perfect.” Hannah gushed as she caught sight of the little boy’s dark complected face that was surrounded by a soft hand made blanket.

Elijah moved behind her and took a peek at the baby over her shoulder. “Hannah is right, as usual.” He told Fiona then looked at Hannah with a look that said he was kidding with her. “May I?” he asked with a motion to the baby.

“Of course.” Fiona told him then passed him the baby.

The sight of Elijah, a strong man that some would call a monster, holding something as small and fragile as a baby caused Hannah’s heart to skip a beat. Fiona saw the look on her friend’s face and nudged her shoulder with hers. “Do you need this?” she asked holding burp cloth out to her.

Hannah blushed and slapped it away. “Oh stop it.”

“You know,” Fiona started with a look between Elijah and Hannah as she sat down at the dining table, “Julie over at the inn is in bad health and looking for someone to take in her two year old if you two would like to consider it.”

“Oh, Fiona, I don’t…” Hanna drawled with an unsure look at Elijah.

“We will talk about it.” he told Fiona surprising the hell out of Hannah. Elijah’s eyes found Hannah’s before he looked back down at the baby in his arms and started talking to him in a soft voice that made Hannah smile.

~End of Dream~

The whole time she was gone she dreamt of Elijah.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie walked into the boarding house to find that, nothing had changed. That was until she walked into the parlor and saw Damon, covered in soap suds while wrapping a red throw blanket around his hips and Elena stood across from him covering her eyes. “What’s going on here?” she asked a little shocked at the scene.

“Elena doesn’t know how to knock.” Damon answered with a smirk. “I thought she was you.”

“He’s covered now. You can put your hand down.” Katie told Elena who peeked through her fingers then dropped her hand as Damon walked over and kissed Katie on the cheek.

“Sheriff Forbes gave us another location to check.” Elena told Damon as she pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket then held it out to him as Katie ducked under his arm and he wrapped it around her shoulders. “Memphis.”

“Another dead end, you mean?” he asked as he took it from her.

“You don’t know that.” Elena told him.

“You’re right, Elena. This could be the one.” Damon told her. “After almost two months this could be the clue that tells us Stefan’s alive and well and living in Graceland.”

“Fine. I’ll go by myself.” Elena took the paper from him and walked around him, but he whooshed in front of her and took the paper.

“And let Klaus know that you’re tracking him? He thinks you’re dead. Let’s keep it that way.” He told her as he looked at the paper.

“It’s a new lead, Damon.” Elena argued. “We haven’t had one in a while.”

“Okay. I’ll check it out. If I find anything, I’ll call you.” he told her then turned around and walked off leaving Katie alone with Elena.

“So, how was med. camp?” Elena asked with a sigh and an aggravated look on her face.

“Good. I’m going to be a pediatrician.” She answered getting a raised brow look from Elena.

“Really?” Elena said as she pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair making it fall around her shoulders.

“Yep.” She said with a shrug as she watched Elena gather her hair back up and tie it back up into a ponytail. “Are you excited about your birthday party tonight?”

“I don’t even want a party. Caroline is-”

“Being Caroline?” Katie asked with a smile and Elena nodded. “It’s happening, so the least you can do is make an appearance and eat a piece of the cake I’m making you.”

“Wait, you’re making the cake?” Elena asked as Katie headed into the kitchen to get to work.

“Yep, you said no gifts so I’m making you something you can’t say no to and it’s not technically a gift if everyone enjoys it.” she told her as she started looking around the kitchen for cake pans.

“Since when do you cook?” Elena asked as she sat down in one of the barstools.

“If you ask Elijah you might have to run to the store and buy a second one, but that was before these were invented.” She told her as she grabbed the chicken shaped timer and set in within arms reach. “So I guess the answer to your question would be since freshman year, home economics.” Katie said as she slammed a cabinet door shut. “How is it possible that there isn’t a single cake pan is this big ass kitchen?” she turned around to see Elena looking at her. “What?”

“Do you miss him?” she asked, making Katie give her a confused shake of her head. “Elijah. That’s at least the fiftieth time you’ve mentioned him this summer.”

“I’ve been at a medical camp half the summer and a lot of medical emergencies happened when we were together. It’s just drumming up old memories.” She answered truthfully as she tapped her ear and pointed up.

“Have you heard from Bonnie recently?” Elena asked, getting the hint that Katie wanted to change the subject.

“I talked to her this morning. She compared her father’s family to wet paint that never dries.” Katie answered as she pulled her car keys out of her pocket. “I have to go buy cake pans you wanna tag along or…”

“No, Caroline is on her way over with Tyler to decorate.” Elena answered so Katie waved over her shoulder and left.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie worked on the cake all day and was putting the finishing touches on it when people started showing up for the party. “Are you done with that yet?” Caroline asked as she walked into the kitchen to see Katie still slaving away over the cake.

Katie ignored her and finished writing Elena’s name in cursive with black icing. “Done.” She stood up and motioned to the cake with the hand that wasn’t holding the icing bag. “What do you think?”

Caroline walked around the white three tiered, topsy turvy cake covered with pink and black poke-a-dots glaring at it with her appraising eyes. “A professional could have done it better, but I think Elena will like it.”

“Okay, now that I have your seal of approval I’m going to go get dressed. Make sure no one messes with this please.” Katie didn’t wait to hear what Caroline had to say as she headed up to her room to change.

She was straightening the neckline of her white, spaghetti strap sundress with a scoop neck and a floral print of small red flowers, when Damon walked into her room. “I missed you.” he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder.

As Katie turned in his arms a hard box in his pocket brushed her leg. “What’s this?” she asked, tapping it with her finger.

“Elena’s birthday gift.” He answered as he stood up straight and pulled a small black box out of his pocket then opened it for her to see Elena’s necklace that Stefan had given her laying on a pad of white fluff. “Alaric found it in his apartment. I thought it might make her feel like she still has a piece of Stefan.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Katie thought out loud then walked over to her dresser and grabbed a pair of small silver hoop earrings off of it. “So how was the road trip?”

“Interesting.” He told her. “Stefan killed two people, but the interesting part is there was a secret werewolf holding cell under the house.” He didn’t give her a chance to say anything before he said, “I’ll meet you down at the party.” as he tucked the box back into his pocket and left the room. Katie couldn’t help letting her ears follow Damon up to Stefan’s room where Elena had been getting ready. “I got you something.” She heard him tell her. “I know I promised not to buy you anything. So don’t worry I didn’t pay for it.”

“You stole it?” Elena asked and Katie rolled her eyes.

“No.” Damon told her with a scoff. “I found it.”

“My necklace.” Elena said quietly. “I thought I’d never see it again.”

“Alaric found it in his loft. I figured you’d be happy to get it back.” he told her.

“I am happy.” Katie could hear the sad, but slightly happy tone in Elena’s voice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Damon told her.

Katie left her bedroom just as she heard them walking by and a little jealousy shot through her when she saw Elena’s arm looped through Damon’s. He could see it on her face so he held his other arm out to her. She took it, but as soon as they were at the bottom of the stairs she let go and headed to the kitchen to make sure no one had messed with the cake. However when she got in the kitchen she found that it was gone.

Worried she headed to the parlor where she saw Elena and Caroline getting a cup of beer from the keg in the corner. “Caroline!” Katie called getting Caroline’s attention so as soon as she could Caroline and Elena headed over to her where she stood on the steps.

“I moved the cake to the laundry room.” she told her then offered her a cup of beer.

“Thank god.” Katie sighed as she took the cup from her. “Where’s Damon?”

“I think I saw him go outside with Alaric.” Elena answered.

“Happy birthday by the way.” Katie told Elena then looked at Caroline. “I’m gonna go see if Damon wants to dance.”

She found Damon and Alaric out back sitting on the brick half wall between the cement and the grass. “How was the internship at Duke?” Alaric asked when he saw her walk up. “Did you decide if med. school was right for you?”

“Yep. You’re looking at a future pediatrician.” She told him with a proud smile.

“My girl, the future doctor.” Damon said as he grabbed her hips and pulled her to stand between his knees as he pulled her in for a kiss.

“Hey, can you keep the p.d.a. to a minimum please?” Ric complained and Katie laughed as she moved to sit beside Damon on the brick wall.

Before she could ask Damon to dance Elena walked out, said “Drink”, grabbed the glass of bourbon out of Damon’s hand and took a large drink. “Jeremy’s smoking again.”

“Is his stash any good?” Damon asked, getting a slap on the arm from Katie.

“You’re an ass.” Elena told him with a pissed off look then turned her eyes to Alaric. “Talk to him, please. He looks up to you.” she put the glass in Damon’s hand spilling it everywhere.

“You’re screwed.” Damon told Alaric who just shook his head.

Katie nudged Damon with her shoulder to get his attention and he looked over at her. “Wanna dance?”

“Na, I’m good.” He told her then refilled his glass with the bottle that was sitting between him and Alaric.

Katie sighed in disappointment. “Okay then. I’m going to go get another beer.” She said more to herself than him as she hopped down off the wall and headed inside. She had gotten a refill and was headed to her room to change shoes because the ones she was wearing were impractically high heeled when she saw Caroline leaning on the wall watching Tyler and Slutty Sophie dancing as she drank straight from the bottle. “Would you two just hook up already and get it over with?” Katie asked, getting Caroline’s attention.

“He’s had all summer to do something about us.” Caroline told her. “Besides, it’s…complicated.”

“Okay,” Katie started as she walked up the steps to stand beside her and watch people dancing on the dance floor, “weren’t you the one that told him you didn’t want to go there after he kissed you?” Katie asked, getting a look from Caroline across her shoulder. “You are also the one that said and I quote, It’s easy. Boy likes girl, girl likes boy. Sex.”

Caroline laughed remembering that she told Elena the same thing when she first met Stefan. “That’s not exactly one of my best quotes.”

“Either way the ball is in your court now. Pick it up and take a shot.” Katie told her with a smile and a pat on her shoulder as she headed up to her room. She expected to find some random couple making out on her bed, but instead she found Stefan, sitting at her desk reading her journal. “Stefan?”

He looked up at her with an emotionless face then whooshed over to her and stabbed her in the neck with a vervain dart causing her body to grow weak. It affected her more than it should have considering she ran out of vervain two weeks into her trip and hadn’t had a chance to drink any since she got back. She stumbled to her bed and grabbed the post of the footboard, holding herself up. “Hello, Katie.”

“Why are you doing this?” She groaned.

“Because I need to send a clear message to my brother.” He told her as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“What message?” she asked quietly.

“He and Elena need to let me go.” He told her in a matter of fact tone “Just like you need to let him go.”

“What?” she asked with a weak frown.

“I thought I heard you kiss Elijah before we went to Klaus.” He grabbed her journal and held it up. “I was right. You need to let Damon go. The longer you draw this out the more it’s going to hurt him.” He told her as he pushed buttons on his phone. Before he could hit the call button Damon walked into the room and Stefan grabbed Katie, holding her back to his chest with his arm wrapped around her chest. “Hello brother.”

“Stefan.” Damon greeted him worriedly. “What did you do to her?”

“Vervain.” He answered as if it was obvious.

“I swear if you hurt her…” Damon threatened.

“Now that I have your attention.” Stefan said, making Damon look back at him. “I need you to stop following me. It’s causing some…problems.”

Katie, growing weaker and weaker as the vervain spread through her system, couldn’t hold her head up any longer and it fell limply back onto Stefan’s shoulder. “With who, Klaus? I’m supposed to care what he thinks?” Unlike Katie, Damon could see the stake in Stefan’s hand and knew that if he made even one move toward her Stefan would stab her and possibly kill her.

“What you’re supposed to do…is let me go.” Stefan answered as Katie’s eye’s slipped shut, slowly losing consciousness.

“I’ve got a birthday girl downstairs that isn’t going to let me do that.” Damon answered.

Stefan stabbed her in the side with the thick stake making her wake up and scream. “I said…let me go.” He let Katie fall to the floor then whooshed out the window.

Damon pulled the stake out of her side making her scream again before she passed out. Damon sighed and picked her up in his arms. He laid her on her bed and brushed her hair out of her face. He tore a clean page from the notebook on her desk, wrote her a note and left it on her bedside table in case she woke up and he wasn’t there. Reluctantly he headed down stairs to make sure Stefan hadn’t gotten to Elena.

When Katie woke up she saw the note. “Went to find Elena.” She read then tossed the paper to the side as she stood up and walked over to her door. The party was still going on, but as she pulled the door open Damon and Elena’s voice’s hit her ears and she stopped. “All summer, every single time I came to you with a lead you made me feel like an idiot for having hope.” She heard Elena saying.

“You were an idiot. We both were.” Damon told her as Katie made her way toward Damon’s room.

“Tell me what you know.” Elena demanded and Katie could tell just by the tone of her voice that she was really upset with him as she should be.

“I know you need to get back to your party, Elena.” He told her dismissively.

“We’re supposed to be in this together. Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been tracking Klaus’ victims?” Elena told him.

“Because they’re not Klaus’ victims, Elena, they’re Stefan’s!” Damon snapped at her.

“What?”

“He’s left a trail of body parts up and down the eastern seaboard.” Damon told her, his voice agitated.

“No. You’re wrong.”

“I’ve seen it happen before. He’s flipped the switch, to full-blown ripper!” Damon practically yelled at her and Katie wanted to step in, but she knew Elena needed to hear what he was telling her.

“Stop it Damon.”

“No you stop, Elena. Stop looking for him. Stop waiting for him to come home. Just stop!” instead of standing out in the hallway eavesdropping Katie went back to her room to wait for them to get done arguing. “Stefan’s gone and he’s not coming back. Not in your lifetime.”

Katie didn’t know where Damon went from there, but he didn’t come to her. So she headed down to the party that was almost over and started compelling people with the line, “you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here”.

She was picking up the plastic cups and trash that lay around when she heard Damon destroying Stefan’s room. Deciding that it would be best if she didn’t interrupt she kept cleaning. She was picking up the study when Damon found her. “What are you doin’?”

“Cleaning. This place is disgusting.” She shoved a plate with half a piece of cake on it into the black trash bag she held in her hand.

“That’s what maids and compulsion are for.” He took the trash bag out of her hand and tossed it to the floor. “Come shower with me. You still have blood on your shirt.” His hands found her hips and pulled her into him. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since you and Elena started fighting about you keeping secrets from her all summer.” She answered as she lifted her eyes to his. “I guess I really could use a shower.”

TVDTVDTVD

“Are you okay?” Katie’s eyes didn’t look at his, but at her hand that rested on his chest, knowing their conversations like these usually went better without eye contact. “I heard you in Stefan’s room earlier.”

“It’s been a long time since Stefan and I have been as close as we have been recently. I screwed everything up.” He answered.

“You didn’t screw everything up.” She told him as she trailed her fingers down the center dip of his abs. “It wasn’t your fault Tyler bit you. I never thanked you for saving him and Caroline. I know you mainly did it to try to stop the sacrifice, but it still means a lot.”

“You need to stop…just stop trying to make me feel better about this.” Damon snapped at her. “Stefan is gone because of me.”

“Stefan may be gone and he may be off the rails, but he is alive.” Katie sat up and looked at him with insistent, stubborn eyes. “Had you not done what you did not knowing you would get bit, my friends would be dead. Dead, Damon. It sucks that Elena may never see Stefan again, but one of these days you and I will and well go Lexi 2.0 on his ass as soon as we do.”

“Katie, he vervained you and staked you in the side.” Damon argued.

“But he didn’t kill me. If he was really as gone as he wants us to believe he would have killed me.” She argued. “I will help you get him back even if it means I get staked in the side a thousand times over. Hope isn’t lost, Damon, not yet.”

“Either way I’m done chasing him.” Damon’s words made Katie breathe in a deep breath then led it out as she nodded.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie woke up from another Elijah dream to the smell of burning paper and sat up in bed with a sigh as she saw Damon throwing his research on Klaus and Stefan into the lit fireplace. “Are you sure you want to do that?” Katie said as she grabbed one of his shirts out of his dresser and pulled it over her head. “Maybe you should sleep on it. You might change your mind and decide to not give up on him.”

“I have slept on it, Katie. Last night, nothing’s changed and nothing is going to change. So Let it go.” He told her, not looking at her.

“Okay.” She sighed as she held her hands up in surrender then headed to her room to get dressed.

TVDTVDTVD

She was sitting on the couch in the living room reading a book when Damon walked over and sat down next to her. When she didn’t look up from her book he started walking his fingers up her hand and over her arm. She smiled but didn’t look at him so he grabbed the book out of her hand and tossed it across the room. She laughed as he grabbed her by her shoulders and moved her to straddle his lap. “Are you bored?” she asked as he slid his hands up her sides. He hummed as she started unbuttoning his shirt then grabbed his sides and caught his lips in a kiss.

He had moved her around to lie on the couch when his phone started ringing. He ignored it, but as soon as it was done ringing it started up again. So he pulled it out of his back pocket with an aggravated groan and answered it. “Bad time Ric.” Damon told him as Katie started kissing his neck, not paying attention to Alaric. “She what?” Damon’s change in tone made her stop and pull back to look at his eyes, wide with worry and aggravation. “Yeah we’re headed your way.” Damon told him as he got off of Katie and hung up the phone. “Stefan and Klaus are in the Smoky Mountains. Elena talked Alaric into going with her to find Stefan.” he told her as he headed to the door.

“Is she insane?” Katie asked as she stood up and rushed after him.

“She has to be because I’m about two seconds away from locking her in a padded cell.” He said as he walked over to his car and pulled the door open as Katie opened the passenger door. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going with you.” she told him as if it were obvious.

“No. Tonight is a full moon and we will be in werewolf country. It’s too dangerous.” He told her over the roof of the blue mustang.

“All the more reason for me to come with you.” she argued and he took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I’m not going to just sit here and not help make sure my friend gets her stupid ass back here in one piece.”

“Fine, just…don’t do anything stupid.” He told her and jerked his head for her to get in the car.

TVDTVDTVD

When they found Alaric and Elena halfway up the mountain, Damon, still pissed at Elena, pushed her off the ledge she was standing on into the water below. “Damon, Katie, what…? How are you even here?” Elena asked, soaked from head to toe as she stood waist deep in the muddy water.

“Thanks for the tip, brother.” Damon told Alaric over his shoulder.

“You sold me out.” Elena asked Alaric with her hands held out to the sides over the water.

“You think I’d take you to a mountain range of werewolves on a full moon without backup?” Alaric asked, getting a pissed look from Elena.

“Just get out of the water so we can go home.” Katie told her with an aggravated tone.

“No.” Elena answered making Katie sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Get out of the water, Elena.” Damon told her with more force.

“No. If I get out of the water you’re going to make me go home.” She stated the obvious as Katie dropped her hand from her face and rolled her eyes.

“Yes, because I’m not an idiot like you.” Damon told her as he propped his arm up on the tree beside him.

“Right now, you’re both acting like idiots.” Alaric spoke up, over their arguing.

“You gave up on him, Damon.” Elena told him standing her ground in the water.

“I didn’t give up on him, Elena.” Damon told her as he walked a little close to the small ledge. “I faced reality. Now get out of the water.”

“No!” Elena argued as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s your big plan Elena?” Damon asked as he hopped down to her level. “You gonna walk into a campsite full of werewolves,” he started walking out into the water, “roast a marshmallow, and wait for Stefan to stop by?”

“My plan is to find him and help him.” Elena argued. Seeing as how this was going to take a while Katie walked over to a tree and leaned back against it, content to watch them argue. “This is the closest that we’ve been to him since he left. I’m not going home.”

“Klaus thinks you died when he broke the curse. That makes you safe.” Damon told her with a glare. “This?” he asked with his hands held out to the sides. “This is not safe.”

“I’m not leaving before we find him.” Elena told him.

“It’s a full moon tonight, Elena.” Damon told her really getting aggravated.

“Then we’ll find him before then.” Elena told him and as a moment of silence passed Katie realized something. Damon was actually listening to Elena and considering letting her stay. Normally Damon didn’t listen to anyone but himself, and on the rare occasion, Katie. “Damon, please.” Another moment passed Katie turned her eyes up at Alaric to see if he was noticing the same thing Katie was, that Elena had more power over Damon than they thought. He looked at her then down at Damon and Elena then back at her.

“Ok.” Damon caved. “Okay, but we are out of here before the moon is full and we’re wolf bait.”

“I promise.” Elena nodded.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Katie asked, jealous anger bubbling to the surface. “The plan was to bring her home not go on a hike in werewolf territory. I’ve lived in Irish werewolf territory as a human and I gotta say I’m not liking it any more as a vampire that could die from a single nip.”

“If you don’t want to be here, go home.” Elena snapped at her.

“Unfortunately I’m just as stubborn and stupid as you are, so no. I’m not going home unless you’re coming too.”

“Not happening.” Elena told her stubbornly.

“Then let’s stop wasting daylight.” Alaric spoke up with a look between the two girls.

They had been walking in silence for an hour when Alaric, who was walking behind Damon and Elena spoke up again. “So you lived in Ireland?” Katie knew he was trying to break the tension and she decided to let him.

“In the 1800’s, yeah.” She nodded.

“Why didn’t you just move out of werewolf territory?” he asked just to keep her talking.

“Because I was a struggling single mother with nowhere else to go.” She answered. “They killed my sister one full moon. Bit my son another, and one would have ripped me to shreds on another. Elijah saved us both.” She saw Damon look back at her at the mention of Elijah. “Before Elijah showed up I wasn’t even aware werewolves were a thing. I just thought there was an overpopulation of wolves.”

“How you doin?” Damon asked Elena when he noticed she was getting winded.

“Fine.” She told him aggravatedly.

“You know I can help you.” he told her.

“No thanks.” She replied as they climbed a small hill.

“Just one little whoosh.” He told her as he moved his arms out in front of him like superman.

“Yeah, with my luck, you’d drop me.” Elena said with a groan as she took a large step up.

Alaric looked at Katie who was still walking beside him. “You’re not whooshing me.”

Katie laughed with a shake of her head at the thought of how awkward it would be to have to grab him and whoosh him that far. She loved him as a teacher and friend of friends, but it would have to be an emergency for that to happen.

They had been walking for what felt like forever when Alaric said, “We’ve got about a mile left.”

“And the sun isn’t far from setting.” Katie told them, getting antsy.

“I can see that, Katie.” Elena told her with an attitude. “The moon doesn’t reach its apex for a while. We have time.”

Damon’s walking slowed, sensing someone else around them so Katie opened her ears and heard someone’s shambled footsteps and beating heart. She was about to say something when a guy in jeans and a red flannel shirt over a grey t-shirt stepped out of the woods. He had blood on his face, dripping from his eyes and down his throat and his t-shirt. When he saw them he looked up and said, “Vampire”.

In a flash he grabbed Damon, spun him around and pinned him to a nearby tree. Damon was keeping him from biting him with his hand on his throat. In a flash Katie grabbed the werewolf guy around his waist and slammed him on the ground. She pinned him down with her body and placed her converse clad foot under his chin to keep him from biting her. “Someone wanna help me out here?” Katie asked, surprised that the werewolf seemed to be on the verge of overpowering her when most werewolves couldn’t take a vampire out of wolf form.

Alaric grabbed a wolfsbane dart out of his backpack and stuck the guy in the neck with it, weakening him enough that Katie could stand up, but she kept her foot on the guy's neck as Damon and Alaric started tying him up. “Let me guess. Hybrid.” Alaric said getting a look from all three of them. She only moved her foot when Damon tapped her ankle then picked the guy up from the ground. After using everything they had the guy was tied to a tree, but still managing to fight. Nothing seemed to be holding him down for long. “Alright, that’s the last of the vervain.” Rick said as he tied vervain soaked ropes around the guy. “We don’t have enough stuff to hold him. I don’t think we’re gonna make that ridge before the full moon.”

“If we can get him to talk we don’t have to.” Elena was reaching her hand out to the hybrid guy when he took in a deep breath, lifted his head and screamed out as his neck started twitching, the sickening sound of breaking bones filled the air around him.

“Is he turning?” Damon asked with a frown as he looked up at the setting sun.

“It’s impossible. It’s still daylight.” Elena said as she too turned her eyes up to the sky.

“Tell him that.” Alaric popped off.

“There aren’t supposed to be werewolves out here until the moon is full.” Elena said freaking out as Damon placed his hands on the hybrid’s shoulders keeping him pinned to the tree.

“Those ropes and us are nothing to a wolf, much less a hybrid with wolf and vampire strength.” Katie told Elena and Alaric as the hybrid leaned forward trying to bite Damon.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” Elena said and Katie breathed a small sigh of relief that Elena was starting to see the light on this whole adventure of hers. “Damon, we’ve gotta get out of these mountains, now!” she shoved Damon and he took his hands off of the hybrid as they all made a run for it.

Katie wished with everything in her that she could just whoosh away to safety and a dark part of her thought about it, but she couldn’t leave Elena and Alaric behind. So she stuck with the group. The sun had completely set when Elena tripped over a tree root and they all stopped and turned to look at her to see a wolf staring her down where she sat on the ground.

Katie’s eyes looked at the wolf, then Damon who knew what she was thinking just by looking at her eyes. Damon mouthed the word no at her. She was about to whistle at the wolf to get it’s attention before she ran when Damon said, “Here doggie, doggie.” and zipped away with the wolf on his trail.

“Son of a bitch, Damon.” Katie cursed him as Elena stood up.

“Come on. Let’s keep moving.” Alaric waved his hand for them to follow him.

“We can’t leave Damon.” Elena argued.

“He can handle himself. Let’s move.” Alaric argued.

Elena looked at Katie. “Go after him.”

“I can’t Elena. So let’s go before I throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry you down kicking and screaming.” Katie told her as she put her hand on Elena’s back and gave her a small push to get moving.

“I’m the reason he’s out here, Katie.” Elena argued.

“I’m the reason he’s out here.” Alaric snapped at them. “I told them where we were and I’m telling you to keep moving!” Elena hesitated, but started walking down the mountain.

Katie was leaning against Alaric’s car waiting for Damon, seriously considering going to find him when he came out of the woods and she whooshed over to him. “Are you okay, were you bit?” she asked, getting an aggravated look from him.

“I’m fine, Katie Cat.” He sighed as they started walking toward Alaric and Elena who were getting out of the car as they neared them.

“Damon, are you okay? Did you-” Elena asked as she rushed over to him.

“I’m fine, bite free. Get back in the car, please.” Damon told her as he put his hand on her chest and pushed her back.

“Can you just give me a minute to appreciate that you’re not dead?” she asked.

“I’ll give you ten seconds, 9, 8...” he grabbed her by her shoulders and turned her around. “Hey Ric, did you happen to see where I parked my car?” he pushed her toward her car.

“Damon, stop being such a caveman.” Elena complained as he opened her door and pushed her into the car then shut it behind her.

TVDTVDTVD

“What happened out there?” Katie asked as they headed into the boarding house, Katie walking behind Damon. “You haven’t said a word since we got in the car.” He turned and looked at her with wide pissed off eyes. “You’re mad at me. Why am I not surprised?”

“Probably because you know I’m pissed at you for even thinking about letting that wolf chase you. Do you have some sort of death wish?” he asked as he walked closer and closer to her. “If you keep putting yourself in harm's way you’re going to end up dead and you know it.”

“What I know,” she started as she took a step back, “is that my best friend, my family, was in danger and I will die before I let my family die knowing there was something I could have done to prevent it! If you call that a death wish then fine. I have a death wish!” Damon just stared at her.

“No. I refuse to let you get yourself killed just because you think you will come back in god knows how many years.” He told her with rage in his eyes.

Katie took a deep breath and held it as she placed her hands on her hips and looked down at the ornate rug that covered the floor. Those three words, I refuse to. They started ninety percent of the sentences that her grandfather had ever said to her and in that moment, in the tone of voice Damon was using with her, she got jerked back in time and heard her grandfather’s voice in her head. Then once again heard her first father’s voice telling her ‘you will do this’ or ‘you will not do that’. “Damon,” she let the breath out and looked up at him, “I have been told all my life, in both of my lives, what I can and can’t, will and will not do. Please don’t be another one of those people who refuse to let me do something. What I do with my life, my choices, are mine to make.”

Damon didn’t say a word as he walked to the front door, opened it, walked out and slammed it behind him causing Katie to jump and the pictures on the wall to shake. With a heavy sigh she dragged herself upstairs to her room and took a shower. When she was done she threw on some cheer shorts and a tank top then sat down at her desk and let her hair fall around her shoulders in loose wet ringlets. She grabbed a pen and opened her journal to a fresh page.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I love Damon, I do, but when he says things to me like he did tonight it makes me wonder if why I put up with it. When we first got together it was just for the fun of it. Then I saw how good of a person he could be and I fell for him. Even though I knew we wouldn’t last…I fell. He’s fun to be with, but here lately it feels more like we spend more time fighting to have a relationship than we do actually having one. When we’re not fighting about Katherine or Elijah we’re finding something else to argue about. I’ve never actually seen a functioning relationship, but I’m pretty damn sure this is not what one is supposed to be like.” She lifted the pen from the paper, debating on if she even wanted to write down what she was thinking and feeling. If she wrote it down, she’d have to accept it and it would become all too real. But she forced herself to put pen back to paper. “I’ve been dreaming about Elijah. I know it’s no longer the spell making me have dreams. It’s me. It’s my subconscious pushing me to be with him. To follow my heart and stop pushing back everything I feel for him. I love Damon. He has been with me through everything and we’ve been through so much, but it feels like we are slipping apart and I don’t know what to do.” Getting aggravated she threw the pen on the desk and slammed the journal shut.

She thought she heard something and she followed the sound to Damon’s room where he was getting out of the shower. “What?” Damon asked as he wrapped the towel around him.

“Where’d you go?” she asked timidly.

“I needed some fresh air.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying to me right?” she asked as she leaned on the door frame.

“I went to Elena’s okay?” he told her then turned to his dresser and pulled the drawer open.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“Because I know how jealous of her you can be.” He told her in a choppy tone without making eye contact.

Katie bit her lips closed and nodded. “Okay. Goodnight I guess.” She went to her room, flipped off the light switch, slid into bed and closed her eyes. The image of Damon on his deathbed filled her mind as his words echoed through her head, “Thank you for choosing me. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Feeling the stabbing pain of her heart breaking, she rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow then covered her head with the second one she never used and sandwiched her head between then as she let the tears flow.

On any other night, Damon would have come to her in the middle of the night, claiming that he couldn’t sleep without her, but tonight…he didn’t.

[raichijin]

 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ukiyo; the floating world.  chapter 2. 

━━━━━ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓.

preface; took me exactly a week to write. possibly the most uneventful, but important in setting up the rest of the story. enjoy ! (also, my first writing post on this account ! awesome.)

word count; 1.6k .

pretty. a pretty boy; with eyes the color of almonds and hair the same shade of rich oaky brown as a morning cup of coffee.

his smile is sweet like creamer, & the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he closes them is cute, too.

a new relationship, perhaps?

you’re so in awe that when you notice his face fall and he’s pulling his hand away, you realize it’s been 15 seconds and you’ve been standing for approximately 30, just staring.

wow, that’s awkward.

“... are you okay?” he asks you again, slower this time.

“i — yeah! totally. i just— i guess i’m just lost?” you look around for anything that could trigger a memory, or even something that looks remotely familiar.

 there’s nothing. “yeah, that must be it...ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵒˢᵗ.” he tilts his head at you, then smiles a little thinner, with only his lips and no teeth before gesturing towards the classroom door, other hand digging into his pants pocket.

“then i can show you around!” he hastily offers, giving you his arm before you even know his name, and the scary possibility that the ‘you’ in this world might’ve had a more notable presence starts sounding like a reality when your name falls effortlessly from his bubblegum pink lips, a cutesy ‘chan’ accompanying it.

“ah, you know me?” 

& while his nose crinkles in a way that’s not cute nor pretty, his smile remains steadfast until he turns away. “well, who doesn’t? our school doesn’t get exchange students too often. especially not ones as handsome as yourself~.” there’s that lilt again. as if he’s trying to make you fall in love with his voice alone, and you might’ve (you are).

“oh! uh, thank you, but-” you both step into the hallway, and the image of a highschool is imprinting itself in your brain. the uniform, the students, teachers, each class room and their individual signs, the kanji that somehow makes sense, and the sudden realization that everything around you is being spoken in spitfire japanese.

you’re speaking it, too.

“i don’t think i know you. what’s your name?”

the cute guy blanches, and suddenly everything seems more interesting to him.

his fingernails, a sudden itch on his nose, and random (read: fawning) passerby.

“um — i’m oikawa! the captain of the volleyball team?” oikawa phrases it like a question, as if you know him; and if he was expecting that flexing that kind of achievement would give him some kind of leeway, he couldn’t be more mistaken.

but for politeness sake, you can pretend to be interested, especially if it means he’d divulge more information about the school.

‘seijoh’ was the name, right? you could probably search it up later. you pat your pockets for the outline of a cell phone, and then realize it might still be in your bag — 

fuck, you still haven’t responded. you need to get better with your reaction time.

“oh! that’s cool.” said in a way that does a decent enough job of feigning interest, because his lips quirk back up. “class ended, right? are you gonna go to practice right now?”

“well...” he pretends to ponder the question. “that’s the plan! we should get going, before iwa-chan gets mad at me.”

iwa-chan? 

we?

“i — i mean, i would, but i don’t wanna be a bother —” but he’s already taking your hand and pulling you down the hall and out a door, quickly explaining some things you see that catch your eye along the way. before you know it, he’s guiding you towards a different building entirely, where the entrance is crowded by … students? some boys, some girls, some not even wearing the school’s uniform.

and they’re definitely not in any volleyball uniforms, or in anything in relation to sports. so what could they possibly be here for?

a high pitched squeal very quickly answers your question.

“look! he’s here!” the gaggle of students nearly trample you with how fast they surround oikawa, too busy ogling the captain to pay you much mind. you would’ve gotten swept away in the commotion if not for oikawa’s tightened grip around your wrist.

he tries (and fails) to calm down the small crowd huddled around him, but it makes enough noise that it starts to attract the attention from the players inside the gym. some look jealous, unsurprised, and one, standing out amongst the rest. with his lips pulled back into a sneer, sweat dripping down the side of his face, and —

“SHITTYKAWA!” the noise outside quiets down to a few whispers and just as quickly the crowd came in, they clear out, as the nameless begins to approach.

he carries himself high and fast and even if he comes up to a little under oikawa height wise, whoever he is, he clearly has mr. volleyball captain at least bashful.

… didn’t he mention someone who’d get pissy if he was late to practice?

“is that —” 

“iwa-chaaaaaan!” oikawa waves his hands absently as a means to placate his friend's temper, and he lets go of you in the process, providing you an ample opportunity to slip back into school, but your feet feel stuck to the floor and you can’t bring yourself to look away from the scene unfolding. this iwa-chan talks to oikawa like he’s his mother. stern with sharp features and a look that could actually kill.

oikawa really fucked up, huh? well, he might’ve not even gotten told if you didn’t pop out of the damn closet though. but it’s too late to apologize, because oikawa’s pointing at you, says something about you being the reason he got held up, and iwa-chan is directing that hard stare at you.

you could melt. if oikawa was pretty, then iwa-chan was handsome. a new love interest perhaps? he seemed hot enough to be one. where oikawa’s smile felt accommodating, iwa-chan’s sneer morphing into an expression of indifference and then slight charm feels more real, and is, in turn, more endearing.

“and you’re the new student? you’re the reason why he’s late?” you nod sharply, and explain how you fell out of the closet… and how oikawa helped you up. he flicks oikawa’s forehead just then, and you laugh, worsened by the kicked puppy expression scribbled all over the captain’s face.

“you’re laughing at this? iwa-chan! cut it out — you’re already rubbing off on them!”

“trashykawa! what the hell were you trying to do with the transfer?” he tugs on his ear like a disappointed parent, but shoots you an apologetic smile.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with him.” oh, you beautiful human, you do not have to be sorry for anything — “i can take him from here — just tell me if this dumbass bothers you again.”

“i wasn’t bothering them i —” iwa-chan glares daggers into him and he concedes, letting himself get dragged into the gym building, his teammates laughing at him, and leaving you behind. they all trail inside before the gym doors close, and suddenly, this area feels pointless.

was this the end of the day? 

you go back into the school, backpack slung anxiously over your shoulder. how were you supposed to find the bedroom to save your game if you didn’t even know where your house was? did you miss a cutscene? did you do something wrong?

a distinct buzzing from your backpack halts your train of thought.

you dig through your pack to find your phone, a rectangular brick with a few stickers on it, opening to your fingerprint and showing you text message notifications from one ushiwaka-san.

the third named character you’ve met in a day. 

ushiwaka-san: have you reached home yet?

huh. is he your parent? guardian? you don’t know any kid who’d put their fathers name so informally.

you: uh, not quite, no 

you: how do i get back? i kind of like

you: forgot

you: my bad dad

ushiwaka-san is … typing !

ushiwaka-san: dad?

ushiwaka-san: what do you mean?

ushiwaka-san is … typing !

ushiwaka-san: whatever.

ushiwaka-san: give me a moment.

you cringe at how badly you misread that, but he eventually sends you the address and instructions on how to get to, where you hope is, home, and with a few pointers from some straggler students, you’re off.

the sun is kissing the hills by the time you’ve reached your destination. your legs are burning from the walk, and you feel like you could collapse on the doorstep if you didn’t know your bed was behind it, decidedly more comfortable than the concrete. 

you find some keys in the side pocket of your bag and unlock the door to the house. it looks pretty enough on the inside, but you’re too tired to appreciate the graphics. you just want to save the game and be done with this.

forty dollars for a walking simulator? no wonder your friend didn’t like it. you have to duck into a few rooms before one reminds you of the one they showed you when the game booted up originally. you flop on the bed before you get the sudden urge to look at your phone again.

a notes app has popped up.

you can write your discoveries after a scenario here. useful for remembering important things, like dates, likes and dislikes, etc.

you can access this when not in a scene, occasionally in-between or during class, or when you’re in your room for the night.

it feels like someones projecting their thoughts into your brain, and it kind of hurts, but you keep it in mind for the next time. you can’t even bother to get out of your uniform before it’s like your eyes are shutting themselves, no matter how much you try to force them back open.

the day is ending, and it’s time to save your progress.

you black out.

the void cradles you. a feeling akin to falling asleep yet wide awake, you settle here until the confirmation of a saved game rings vaguely through your head.

then, just as suddenly,

you’re up.

passing the baton to you kat! @letshaikyuu.

𝔱 𝔞 𝔤 𝔩 𝔦 𝔰 𝔱 ;  @kingkageyamathegreat, @sayakaaaaaa, @tobubekida-yo @chigigami, @sugacookiies, @macaronnv, @cadekagi

[pippki-writes]

An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 1

Asmodai was his name, because he had stolen it along with the life of the wizard it had belonged to before. It wasn’t the first name he had taken in this way, but it was the name he got stuck with, through every fault of his own.

It is said among some legends that the seventh son of a seventh son will be born lucky, or have magical powers, but nothing much is said about the third sons of third sons, which is what Asmodai was, before his name was Asmodai. Was he born wrong, or was he made that way? None of his siblings turned out the way he did--not that he knows how they turned out. They each scattered to the winds in their own different ways, avoiding an often absent overworked father and obsessively violent alcoholic mother. These are not excuses, merely the catalysts that would put the boy that Asmodai had been in the care of a certain psychotic mage who would mold Asmodai into the terror he would become. Like recognizes like, and the older man must have seen the seed of something wrong in that boy, to take him as an apprentice. To teach him dark magic, and the depths of psychological manipulation, how to draw energy from blood and how to make a body disappear where no cop would find it. Like recognizes like, but they were not completely alike. If they had been, then surely the older man would have seen the glint in the eyes of the boy, and known before it was too late that he had taught too much. But no. Overconfidence was his downfall. He wasn’t the first person the boy killed, but his was the first name and power he took fully for his own. What was his name? What had it been? It hardly mattered now. Asmodai has had many names, more than he can be expected to keep up with. You might expect him at least to remember the first, but you would be wrong. He doesn’t even remember his own name, having bound and locked it away, somewhere far and deep, safe in his subconscious, on the day he killed the twisted man who taught him magic.

Asmodai remembers more than enough of what does matter. He remembers the callused, sandpapery skin of a firm hand pinching his chin between an unforgiving thumb and forefinger, the piercing blue eyes of the man that would be his mentor forcing him to meet his gaze, looking deep into his soul and all the dark unnamed desires squirming within. It was not the first time Asmodai had run away, but it was the first time someone besides the police had caught him.

“You’ve suffered,” said the older man appreciatively, after the silence between them had stretched nearly to unbearable. The man let go of Asmodai and held out his hand. “Wouldn’t you like to make sure that others suffer too?”

Names are powerful things. Before that day, Asmodai had not understood what it was he wanted from the world, but the man who would be his mentor had named exactly what he wanted. He wanted to make sure that other people suffered. As soon as it was spoken and given a shape, he knew it to be true.

And he was good at it.

Was. Was good at it. And now? Asmodai swears, the rage in his heart as white-hot as it was that day nearly a month ago when that bitch as good as stole his magic from him. Sure, he can kill the old-fashioned way, as nearly every other serial killer does, but he had a certain style and freedom he enjoyed that was impossible to achieve when bound by the regular laws of nature. And he isn’t willing to accept yet that this may be all that remains to him.

Asmodai reflects on these things from a motel room that has come to feel like a prison cell. He can leave whenever he wants, but where would he go? What would he do, when he can’t do whatever he wants to whomever he wants to do it to? He rips open the day’s single serve coffee packet and jams it in the little electric coffee maker on the worn desk. It will taste terrible, as every other near-instant coffee he’s made here has tasted, but he wants to drink something as bitter as he feels.

His memory jumps around as the machine hisses and burbles with purpose. He traces back the well-worn path of where and why everything went wrong, as if that could change any part of what happened. The first misstep, years ago in New York City, when the ill whims of fate crossed his path with the path of that damned witch. He underestimated her then, and, well, perhaps that had been a frequent mistake of his, now that he thought about it. He had thought himself stronger, able to call upon darker and more powerful magic than she could. His hand drifts to the mottled skin marking the nine-pointed scar where her curse had taken out his right eye all those years ago. What had he thought, that she’d simply gotten lucky? That he could truly make her pay for this? How wrong he had been.

New York City, though he doesn’t remember exactly the year--perhaps 2011? 2012? The year didn’t matter, and so he didn’t commit it to memory. Vengeance is timeless. He remembers what matters: the warm, approving sun on his skin, and he fresh from having magically turned a man inside out, hiding the body with a flick of his fingers deep at the bottom of the Hudson River. It was time to find his next name, and no community of magic users in the country was bigger than the network in New York City. He could probably have his pick of any name he wanted here. As far as names went, ‘Asmodai’ was a little strange. It had suited the wizard he took it from in its way, and sure, had served him well in the time since, but he didn’t want to get attached to any one name, lest it gain power over him. And so it was time to leave Asmodai behind and take a new name. He shuddered with delight, sweet memories of Asmodai’s murder playing in his mind. What a violently erotic affair that had been. Asmodai...it was almost a pity to have killed a young man so beautiful, naive, and foolish as he had been, but his terror, his tears, had all been the most delicious yet. Surely this next kill would be even better.

He took a deep breath, bringing his attention back. First things first, he needed to find said magical community. Make friends, insinuate himself into the social scene, find the next name that would suit him. No need to rush. This was his favorite kind of hunt, and it would no doubt take months to complete. He already knew that trying to detect magic would be pointless—the city was teeming with it. He closed his rich brown eyes, and focused on the flow of magic within the city. He would find where it collected, perhaps, and work his way from there. Who he found didn’t matter, he just needed someone to start with. The flow of magic seemed to be leading north, toward the center of the city. Made sense. Time to walk. He opened his eyes, and was surprised to find a young woman looking at him with a knowing smile. She held out her hand as their eyes met.

“Call me Elaine,” she said, her hazel eyes sharp and playful on him, sizing him up. “You must be the new mage in town.”

What luck, he remembers thinking. What fantastic fortune. The universe wanted him to have this. He gave her the same winning smile that had lured so many others to their deaths. “Asmodai,” he said, shaking her hand. He looked like a kid caught out sneaking dessert before dinner, sheepishly running a hand through his sandy brown curls, smiling appreciatively. “How did you know?”

She winked at him. “Let’s call it word on the street. I said the word, and here we are, on the street.”

“Ah, a secret then.” She wasn’t exactly his favorite type, he thought, but he wasn’t going to turn down what fate offered. “Say, what do you like to do for fun around here?”

She would have been his ticket in. He should have just taken her rejection in stride, taken his time, taken it out on her much later, with a better grasp on who she was, what her weaknesses were. But something about her made him want to make her suffer. Who the fuck did she think she was, to tell him no? There would be other magic users. The bookshop owner, perhaps, if he could ever find his way back there. No, his mind was made up the moment she turned him down, and he smoothed over any awkwardness that could have blossomed with seemingly patient understanding. He knew that he would make her pay, and he would do it that very night. He paid little attention to the overtures of friendship that evening, and so doesn’t remember exactly where they drank and ate, what sights they saw, because it didn’t matter. He played the part he wanted her to believe in perfectly, and that was what mattered. He hardly had to work to get the opportunity he needed.

Binding spells were one of his specialties--among the first spells he had ever learned. It was easy--cutting through a dark alley, no witnesses, and her attention was elsewhere as she led the way. In no time she was frozen, immoble before him, a wild fear in her eyes,  and everything felt right. The binding held fast. He would have his way, and then he would kill her. He smiled. He grabbed her by the chin, testing that he was in control, turning her head this way and that, a horrifically mad glint in his eyes.

“Oh Elaine,” he’d said, mocking the syllables. “Though I know that can’t be your true name, it doesn’t matter. First I’ll take you, then I’ll take your life, and I’ll take my time working my way through this city until I’m satisfied. Eventually someone here is bound to have exactly what I want. Even if you don’t.” He paused, his hand cupping her cheek. “Enough talk, I think.” His hand slipped around to the back of her neck, his fingers clenching roughly in her hair until she winced in pain. His magic kept her silenced, but he left her face just free enough that he would get to see every spasm of suffering.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pulling harder. “I will enjoy every bit of this.” He leaned in, crushing their lips together to steal a kiss.

Well, that had been his intention. Would he have seen what was coming, if he’d left his eyes open? Their lips met, and then a sharp, unexpected pain. His lip was between Elaine’s teeth, and she had bit down hard, quickly drawing blood until her mouth was full of it. He had no time to react. She spat out a blood curse, wild and blindly--no sound, just a sudden explosion of ripping agony centered in his right eye. Asmodai screamed, staggering back, his concentration broken, the binding spell dropped, blood everywhere. On instinct his hand had flown to his face, feeling ruin beneath his fingertips. He pulled his hand away and looked down at it. Red, absolutely covered. Pain so searing he almost couldn’t think through his rage. He looked up at her.

She was a terrifying sight. His blood ran down her chin. Unfamiliar sigils marked her face, glowing against her skin. Her eyes--they were something else, hazel irises gone, and in their place two glowing red Xs focused in anger on him, and it was at that point he realized that now he couldn’t move.

“You are not welcome here, you are not welcome in this city,” she hissed, “and if I ever see you again, I will kill you.”

He doesn’t remember through the haze of pain exactly what she did, but next thing he knew he was suddenly outside the city limits, blood streaming from a wound he could not get to heal, and utterly unable to get back in.

Before that day, Asmodai’s entire goal in life had been to make other people suffer. He added a new purpose to that short list: make that bitch pay for what she had done to him.

It would be years before an opportunity would present itself. To start with, that bitch never left New York City, and no matter what he tried, he couldn’t get in.

He learned that no healer he found could get the scar to go away. He had had the sort of face men and women both found beautiful, before. A face it was easy to fall in love with. The first healer, a skilled young man of discretion not in the habit of asking unpleasant questions, had been very apologetic when his magic could do nothing. Asmodai killed him anyway.

He also learned that there was something about being cursed that other magic users could now pick up on. No matter what silky lies he told about how he got that scar, they all seemed to sense something off. No makeup could hide it. No glamor could conceal it. No good wizard would get close to him now, their guards up, their names far out of his grasp.

In time, he was content to roam the country, killing as pleased him, waiting for his opportunity to come. Surely a day would come that she would set foot outside her city. He set up spells that would let him know when she did. He waited.

Asmodai looks at the paper cup in his hand, the oil-slick sheen of the coffee surely too hot to drink. If he had his magic, he thinks irritably, this could be a perfect cup of coffee, exactly the right temperature to drink, the taste exquisite regardless of how stale the beans were that made it. But no. His opportunity had come, and not only had he wasted it, he’d gotten himself completely fucked over for his effort.

He sniffs the coffee. Smells awful. Gingerly, he hovers his tongue toward the liquid. It’s clearly too hot. He sets the cup down, and thinks back to that night. As if turning the memories over in his mind will give him peace this time, when it hasn’t every other time before.

He had, over the years, imagined thousands of ways to torture and kill her. So why, when there she was before him again, had his mind gone completely blank? A thousand ways to make her suffer, and suddenly he had forgotten them all. His heart raced, secretly thrilled with possibility as he worked to bind her to the spot on the ground where she had appeared. He approached her, smooth and unhurried, and spoke.

“At last, at last I can finish what we started.”

Her hair was longer, he noticed, pulled back in a sensible ponytail. She wore reading glasses that she hadn’t worn the last time they’d met. But the look of wild rage in her surprised eyes when she saw him and shouted “YOU!” --that felt very familiar.

Her shock gave him an easy opening to bind her leg to the ground. “Mmm, didn’t you say you were going to kill me if you saw me again?” he said lightly, looking around expectantly. “All talk, I suppose.”

“Maybe I have better things to do,” she replied, glaring at him, her face darkening.

“Is that right?” he smiled, but it was a cold smile that did not reach his eye. He focused on trying to bind first her right arm, then her left, but he could feel her fighting it, warding him off.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve come around. Death is one of those too good for you kind of things. I think it’s better for someone like you to suffer.”

He should have had the upper hand, ambushing her as he did. But she must have been stronger than he realized, because the magic was so damn slippery and he couldn’t get her arms bound. The other leg then, he thought, changing his focus.

“I see the eye failed to heal quite nicely,” she called out. “Would you like the other one to match?”

“Shut UP, witch!” he growled. He pulled out his pocket knife, cutting his hand, drawing upon his own bloodshed in magic to get her other leg bound. “Enough TALK. I will torture you. I will dominate you. And I will slowly, slowly kill you.” He began walking toward her, taking in the sight of her as he could feel the binding slowly catching along her left arm. He had been too focused on his own spell to pay attention to what she had been doing. He remembered hearing her chuckle, and then the feeling of being violently knocked unconscious.

He sips the coffee, which manages to somehow be both watery and still bitter to the point of being sour. When he came to that night, she was gone. And if she’d stayed gone, everything might have been okay. He could have regrouped, come up with a better plan. Taken the time to see through the blinding anger and bloodlust, to figure out what he would need to do to overpower her.

He got back to his motel room that night, all blunt force trauma and broken ribs from being slammed into the nearest tree by a concussive magic blow. Healing isn’t Asmodai’s specialty, but he knows a little to get by. He slipped into his bed, settling into a sort of meditative healing state, thinking pleasing thoughts--remembering the feeling of his fingers on the thin and pretty throat of the wizard’s lover as she died, and god what a fantastic feeling that had been, as the man who had held the name Asmodai was frozen, unable to move, only able to cry. How long ago now that had been. The wizard Asmodai had loved him too, and that made it all the sweeter, what he had done.

These were the things he was thinking when he felt his blood stir in a way it shouldn’t have, as the door to his motel room slammed open, and there she stood. That fucking bitch, with power and murder in her eyes. She had bound him to the bed.

“Shhh,” she said, her binding spell squeezing his throat, silencing him. “We aren’t done.” The spell pressed down on his chest, tears springing to his eyes from the pain. This was not right. She had no right to do this to him. She had left. Why was she here? How had she found him? Her magic dragged him down, making space for her to climb up and sit cross-legged at the head of the bed. She dragged him back up to her, putting her hands on his temples as he looked around wildly.

“I do hope this hurts.”

He couldn’t tell what she was doing, but all the telltale signs of her magic at work began to show, her terrifying face aglow with sigils, her eyes gone and the glow of red Xs in their place. He felt a ripping sensation in his memory, and then a curse taking shape, constraints being threaded around him. As she began to root her curses deep in his mind, through the pain he could hear the echoes of it as she did.

Who cares if you know who I am, what I look like, or any of that, if it triggers a complete temporary loss of all magic and movement when you so much as think of me?

Know that I did this. Be infuriated. And be utterly powerless to do a damned thing about it.

He doesn’t remember exactly what she said next. He was not listening. He was in howling, excruciating pain, unable to move, unable to scream. She took his knife from his pocket, stabbed him in the side, and filled a vial with his blood.

“Just in case,” she said. Asmodai felt like the pain would tear him apart.

“You’ll be able to move eventually. Once you stop thinking about me.”

It was days before he had been able to move again.

Even now, he thinks, gulping down the last of the brackish coffee, he’s not moving because he overcame her curse. She took pity on him. The very thought fills him with a roiling, sickening anger all over again. She had appeared in his motel room once more, the magic of it splitting the air with a deafening crack.

“It would be funny, honestly, to let you die like this,” she had said, walking up to him as he lay there, seething and immobile.

“I think I’ll keep you like this when I’m around. But perhaps I’ll be benevolent enough to allow you some movement when I’m not near. Would you like that?”

His anger pinned him in place, unable to move, unable to speak. This was nearly how he had spent all his time since she’d left: simmering in his hatred, imagining violence that he couldn’t act on.

“I ought to make you beg for even that,” she said as she summoned her magic, her hands stretching out for his temples, “but I am nothing if not benevolent…”

He could feel her reaching into his mind, a horrible and unpleasant sensation, her countenance as terrifying as before. But he could also feel her tweaking the curse, freeing him to be able to move if she wasn’t there. The restriction on his magic, however, she left alone.

She lifted her hands away from him, her face returning to normal. As he watched, she held her hand out over his chest, magically probing to see which of his ribs was the worst off. For a split second, she acted like she was going to press on it, then grinned wickedly at him.

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said, standing up instead. “Hate me all you want. You can’t do anything about it.” She disappeared from his room with another ear-splitting crack.

Tentatively, Asmodai sat up. He screamed, in spite of how much it hurt to do so, and punched the wall until his knuckles were bruised and bloodied. He stared at his hands when the immediate white hot rage cooled down, and couldn’t even use his magic to heal them.

That had been a little over a month ago now. She hadn’t returned. And neither had his magic. He throws the empty paper cup in the little trash can, and stares down the hopelessness of another day.

- NEXT SNIPPET -