#but after a few years. and after a battle of figuring out what the hell i am i can see i changed

[fishoutoflovebeach]

i feel as though im undergoing metamorphosis. my mind and body don’t feel the same anymore and i feel as tho im being drawn towards what im meant to be.

but also i feel stuck, trapped in what the other people think of feel about me. as its perfectly normal to outgrow friends and neighbors, is it normal to outgrow close family??

[americankimchi]

Do you have any tips for writing Obi Wan or any meta in mind with his characterizarion?

hmmm sure why not! i'll give a few tips on how i'd write obi-wan. mind you this is how i interpret the character, so ymmv.

i truly do not like it when fics have obi-wan voluntarily leaving the order. like it's so out-of-character for me in my head that the premise of the story + the writing would have to work triple-time to get me to stick around. now if he's been removed from it by an EXTERNAL SOURCE (not the order. i cannot stress this enough: the jedi kicking obi-wan out is so jarring to me i'll leave the fic in an instant) or somehow unable to return to the order for whatever reason, all is well.

not a prodigy, but a genius. obi-wan is an incredibly intelligent person with an absolutely staggering knowledge base in a wide variety of topics, but all that knowledge was earned through blood, sweat, tears, and time. he sat down with his game face on and put in the work. that's also why he makes an excellent teacher: he knows what most students will struggle with because he struggled too, and knows through experience how best to overcome them. i headcanon that it contributes to why he's such a good negotiator: he's really good at stripping down information to the essentials and communicating that information effectively and efficiently to others because of his intense study habits.

humble, but not ignorant of his skills. it's pretty impossible to fully divorce yourself from pride in your achievements, and i don't think it's healthy to not feel any pride at all, so i think obi-wan has a very clear understanding of his skillset and how best to use it. i don't think he'd be ignorant of how good he is at something, especially since the direct consequence of his aptitude led him to being a member of the jedi council. pretty hard to be blind to your strengths when you're being asked for your input on topics that directly draw from that knowledge.

averse to healthcare. listen i enjoy obi-wan whump just as much as the next obi-wan stan (the desire to put him in the cosmic salad spinner comes with the territory, i fear) but as a character who grew up in an environment that deeply cares for the well-being of all, and knowing that you cannot help others unless you yourself first have the ability to do so, i can't really see him ignoring injuries outside of combat scenarios. like on the battlefield he's got more pressing concerns than a pesky little shrapnel wound or five, but once the battle's over?? he might not be first in line to the medics but i can't see him avoiding them entirely. an army without a general is working at a sharp disadvantage and i don't think he'd risk his men by neglecting his physical health in that manner. note that i said 'physical'. make of that what you will :)

duty. obi-wan is the definition of a paladin. he takes an oath and by the force he's going to keep it. train the boy? absolutely, qui-gon. whether or not anakin chooses to respect that training is another matter, but he did definitively get knighted! refuse to kill anakin? listen he's handed vader his own ass to him twice post order 66 and each time he did it he did it nonlethally. that takes skill. that takes dedication. exile yourself to tatooine for 19 years and then decide fuck it, we ball, and die after Once Again Deciding Not To Kill Anakin Skywalker? step aside casper, there's a new friendly ghost in town. every time obi-wan commits to something the man COMMITS. you GOTTA respect that grind.

flirty but in the sense that he's going to match the energy someone brings to the table. like he's a negotiator. he knows how to read people and figure out the Vibes. if he thinks the other person will be 1) 100% receptive and 2) will respond with a delightful wit, why the hell not? obi-wan's highest stat is charisma and he's got expertise in persuasion. whether they're allies or not does not factor into this equation. he can have a little flirtation with morally dubious and potentially hostile characters. as a treat.

this has nothing to do with his character but i firmly believe that he and quinlan vos had at LEAST a fling when they were padawans. there is zero evidence to back this up aside from a few comics where they were being goofy teenagers together but i stand by this. it is an unshakeable aspect of obi-wan to me that has only gotten worse with the kenobi show.

no matter what, no matter how terrible or devastating or downright apocalyptic it gets, obi-wan kenobi will never fall to the dark side. never. it won't be easy, but that is a line he has never, and will never cross. i will not hear any "obi-wan touched the dark side during the theed generator fight" slander. if that was true tell me why the force theme was playing during his moment of triumph!!! Would John Williams Lie To Us Like That?? to our face?????

anyways i could go on forever about obi-wan because he is My Ultimate Blorbo but this post is getting super long so i'll leave it there. hope this helped even a little or at the very least was entertaining for you to read <3

[theaspsaroaceimagines]

You asked for it. Now you get

EVEN MORE Hazbin Hotel x God of Death! Reader

spoiler for episodes 7 & 8

It turns out you arrived at just the right time, actually.

The Extermination is soon and Charlie and co. need as much help as they can get defending the Hotel.

It's just your luck, you came for a vacation, and you still have to work.

You're a little surprised Carmilla Carmine discovered the angels' weakness.

But only a little. She is an arms dealer, after all.

To be honest, you should have realized it happened sooner when the dead angel's soul showed up in Limbo, but you can't actually tell the naked souls of a demon and an exorcist apart.

They're honestly equally corrupted.

You help train the demons who've chosen to defend the Hotel, it's pretty brutal.

Except for Alastor, he chose to skip training; a mistake you won't let him make again.

When the exorcists attack, you are calm and collected. You have no reason to fear for yourself.

That doesn't mean you don't fight fiercely, though.

It's the first time in thousands of years that anyone's been able to lucidly see you in action.

You're untouchable, dodging and blocking every blow directed at you.

You attack in turn with the Soul Reaper, a weapon that changes form between any kind of scythe or sickle based on what's most useful at a given moment.

For example, it can be an ordinary scythe while blocking, a sickle during a close range attack, and a kusarigama when you want to pull an opponent into close range from further away.

The exorcists don't recognize you, too blinded by their hatred for demon-kind to see you for what you are.

It's hardly even a challenge.

You notice quickly when Adam joins the fight, though you let Alastor fight him for a few seconds before stepping in.

You suppose you can allow him to defend his pride a little bit.

You won't let him die now, though, it's too early. He has yet to serve his purpose.

You try to keep Adam occupied. You really do.

However, you're unable to prevent him from disintegrating Pentious's airship.

You drop the fight the instant it's happened.

Seeing as Pentious sacrificed himself for the others, you figure he's earned a one-way trip to Heaven.

You carry his shell-shocked soul straight to the seraphim.

"Special delivery! Also, friendly reminder, I'm the one who decides where a soul goes and when it goes there. Maybe consult me the next time you have a question of if a transfer is possible, Sera."

You fucking slap her.

When you return to the battle, Lucifer and Charlie are struggling to fight Adam while minimizing collateral damage.

Time to fix your mistake.

You tackle him.

"You again?! Who the fuck are you?!" "You already know me, Adam. You just don't remember."

You knock him off his feet.

"I'm Death. Taking you to Heaven was a mistake. One I won't soon repeat."

You slice his wings clean off.

You would have left it at that, but then Niffty stabs him from behind with a blessed dagger.

Great. Now you have to deal with him in your home.

Whatever, you'll just keep him in stasis until you're tired of him taking up space.

Then you'll deposit him in Hell where he belongs.

[bet-on-me-13]

Stranded Danny AU

Danny gets pulled into a faraway Dimension by a Villain one day, just after the events of Phantom Planet. He is barely 15.

He has no way to get back, but he does manage to unlock the power to make Portals. Unfortunately, none of the dimensions he ends up in are his own, and none have enough Ectoplasm to open portals for very long. It takes up to a week to scrounge up enough Ecto to open a single Portal into the next dimension over.

And none of these worlds have Technology strong enough to take him home either. The few times he did find some tech that could potentially get him home, it never worked or it was destroyed before he could finish it.

He spends well over 30 years of his own Personal Timeline trying to get back to his home dimension, constantly gathering scraps of Ectoplasm and Tech until the day he eventually collected enough to build a safe way home.

But time does not pass the same across dimensions.

What to him was a 30 year long Journey, was actually just 10 for his home Dimension.

And they had to move on without him.

Sam became a Business Woman who used her money to fund Nature Preservation Organizations. She hired Pamela Isley and helped her through her powers when she became Poison Ivy (still a Villain, but secretly working for Sam)

Tucker got a high ranking job at Star Labs, and helped Cyborg come to terms with his new life when he became a cyborg. He even helped upgrade his tech a few times.

Jazz became a successful Psychiatrist, and now works under Daina Lance as one of the Justice League's top Therapists, specifically their Child Psychologist for young Heroes

Ellie took his place as a Hero and became the new protector of Amity after he dissappear. After the Justice League was formed, she joined them and became one of their best members, always working and nor really taking many breaks.

They always wondered what happened to Danny, and spent many years trying to figure out what happened to him, but never succeeded. They finally began to assume that he was fully dead after a few years of searching. They had enough time to come to terms with it.

...

So one night, while a 22 yr old Ellie is resting on one of her rare days off, she gets called in by the League about a possible Dimensional Breach near her Home Town. JLD was deployed to investigate, and she was asked to tag along since she was the Resident Hero of the area.

But she refuses, thinking it's just some random ghost trying to enter the Living Realm illegally after she began regulating the Portal. JLD would be able to handle it on their own, let her sleep on her day off!

Meanwhile, JLD has located the spot where the Dimensional Breach is about to appear. They surround the Area, and prepare to interrogate whoever is about to appear, or deal with them if need be.

Space begins to tear apart as the fabric of Reality breaks apart at the seams. And from that wound in existence, an Adult Danny steps out. He is 44 years old, and looks like a less buff version of Dan without the mustache (basically imagine Danny as Ford Pines from Gravity Falls)

The JLD can sense that he is strong, but not too much so. It feels like he is powerful, but like that power has been starved for a while.

"Who are you?" Asks Wonderwoman, ready to jump into battle if needed. "What are your intentions in this World?"

Danny ignores them. He is staring into the Night Sky, eyes wide. The Constellations he hadn't seen in 30 years were there. The stars were in the right locations. He takes a deep breath, tasting the amount of Ectoplasm in thr Air. This is it. He's home. He's finally home.

"Finally" He says breathlessly. A slightly manic Grin on his face.

"What the hell does that mean?" Demands Constantine. The grin had unsettled him, and he began preparing a few spells just to be sure.

Danny ignored him again, this time deciding to close his eyes and finally eat his fill of Ectoplasm for the first time in 30 years. He was ravenous, this was the first decent Meal of Ectoplasm he had been able to have in 30 years. He was giddy, he was so happy to finally be home.

However the Heroes didn't know what was happening. All they knew was that some guy had ripped a hole in reality, said "finally" with a crazy grin on his face, and started emitting a dangerous amount of Death Energy for no apparent reason.

Constantine reacts on impulse, trying to cast a Banishing Spell on this guy.

Danny, feeling the spell begin to pull him away from his home after he had just found it again after Thirty. Fucking. Years. Does something that he would consider reasonable.

He quickly dashes over to Constantine and slams him through a tree.

This sparks a fight between Danny and the JLD. And at first he is having some serious trouble, but as he continues to feed on Ectoplasm and recover his strength, he becomes progressively more Powerful. It comes to the point where the JLD can't keep up anymore, and call in Backup.

Ellie was enjoying her night off, but the desperate Call from JLD about a powerful Entity at the edge of Amity finally got her going.

She rushes over and slams into Danny just as he is about to attack Constantine again. Neither of them recognize eachother, since they have changed since they were kids (Danny moreso) and continue to Duke it out.

Ellie is trying to banter with him, but Danny is really angry at this point. So he resorts to his final attack, his Ghostly Wail.

He levels a good chuck of the Forest, and in the end he is standing over Ellie as his anger fades. He says "Sorry" and he starts taking a look around him to see if there is anybody else.

Ellie is on the ground, shaken because she recognized that power.

She gets up, and asks "Danny?"

Danny finally gets a good look at her and says, and says "Ellie?"

Meanwhile JLD still has ringing in their ears and thinks that Ellie just called Danny "Daddy"

(Which makes sense because of the new age difference)

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

please tell me this manga/comic/show exists i do not wanna have to make it

okok I've posted about this before but I'm watching animation content on youtube again while getting work done and by GOD I WANNA TALK ABOUT THIS AGAIN

There's a specific concept I want to consume as content/art so badly but it came to me in a stupid dream. BUT. Sometimes, a dream means I DID see a hint of it somewhere and my brain accidentally plagiarized it which provides me with the teensiest sliver of hope that exists already and I don't have to work on it

It's a kind of a reverse isekai, right? But instead of an instant portal, it's time passing. And what I mean by that is that it's a Sun Wukong story, but the branch off is that after the main events of Journey to the West he gets either water temple'd or trapped in magic sleep again, not for a few hundred years but a few THOUSAND.

He wakes up to an incredibly far-flung China that remembers his myth and only his myth.

The art style that operated in this dream was sort of. Textured but 3D? Think nimona's buttery lighting but instead of emphasis on light and shapes to operate with the stained glass and solarpunk-medieval style the models are textured in a way that just invokes traditional brushwork and colour bleed even in a more cyberpunkish setting. Think like. Whenever there's a night scene the astigmatism glow of lamplight bleeds a little, like ink feathering on paper.

It's a little bit of a Steve Rogers treatment in a way, the world has moved past him, but also completely mythologized and capitalized on that mythology. Rather than treat that man out of time narrative as an aspect of backstory, it's the MAIN character narrative, because this ISN'T a world that needs him. This world is doing pretty okay, actually.

This a story about him.

Not about his feats or how cool his powers are or the 8 gajillion things the magic staff can do but just.

How ya doing, bud?

From the vaguely coherent notes that I could garner from my sleepily typed googledoc, it seems that I wanted this to be a love letter of sorts to the Asian diaspora experience? A specific sort of loneliness? Where the world you experience has a sort of disconnect in that it makes plain you belong there but you also don't, you never have, and there's no way to go "back" but going forward feels like groping blind through the muck. How much right to the past does he feel like he has? When it's been built into something he can't recognize and is clearly important to other people.

I want the pickup of the plot to gain him friends, family, maybe even a conflict or two but the stakes should never elevate vis a vis physical enemies to battle.

It'd be about 2/3 of this sort of narrative drawn story and the other 1/3 just hogwild worldbuilding and design

I've looked at a few other journey to the west adaptations but they mainly just use him as a funky lil action figure hero that's there to be cool as hell and save the day

99% likely this is just a thing my brain is made up and I'd need a several million budget and about 25 additional skills to start the ball rolling but hey, worth it to ask yall again

[forcebewitht]

Hey, since book 6 has been out in English for a while, could we possibly see an Overblot!Idia x reader? I really love the idea of him dramatically taking off the mask he has on to kiss the reader.

A Dance With Death (Overblot!Idia Shroud x MC!Reader)

(Artwork by: Trashochist on Deviantart, X (Twitter), and Instagram)

(Possible TW: Slight yandere implications, stalking, manipulation, branding)

…The time had finally come. All of the trials and tribulations that you had gone through. The pain and strife that had overtaken you in just a few short days. It had all led up to this. The kidnapping of your beloved companion, Grim. The destruction of the Ramshackle dorm. The kidnapping of those who had Overblotted that you had helped through their trauma and developed bonds with overtime. The kidnapping of even the Headmaster of Night Raven College himself. The entirety of these events had thrown Night Raven College into turmoil.

And that was just what excited Idia even more. He had been watching curiously since the very first moment you had arrived at the institution. I mean- a student that didn’t have any magic? Yet arrived within a coffin here to a school of magical students? It was unheard of- and just that alone excited him. This excitement only grew once the Overblots started. His family and organization, S.T.Y.X., had been all over the research of Overblotting for years. But now, after all of this time, someone so close to him (in the school, that is-) was at the forefront of a handful of Overblots? It was far too perfect of a chance to pass up with that new Ramshackle prefect. The plan was sprung, footage and data gathered. He knew that they were going to come for their beloved friends- they were just so cool like that. Literally a superhero in disguise, an underdog that soon had risen to be one of the top dogs within the school. There was a lot of promise with them- no. Not a promise. This was the work of the Fates themselves, he believed. The Fates themselves had led someone to him. Someone powerful. Someone strong. Someone capable of protection. Someone…that could get him back what he had lost all of those years ago.

There they were. Descending down to the depths of Hell that he himself had wrought. They looked horrible- worn for wear, really. To think, these oh so powerful figures from Pomefiore, Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia, and Octavinelle, alongside the hero of the school themselves, would be bashed and broken already from mere secondary bosses? They wouldn’t stand a chance against this final boss. Idia grinned beneath the mask that he wore, his arms folding over themselves as the Blot around his figure billowed with every breath he took. He could feel the immeasurable power coursing through his veins- and the normally pessimistic male found himself growing rather cocky the more they walked forward. His golden gaze soon landed upon his hero- his knight in shining…well, uniform. He soon was speaking, his arms outstretched as the flames protruding from his figure began to blaze brighter- hotter.

“Bum bum buuummmm~! Our heroes have finally arrived to the final boss battle! But uh ohhhhhh~ looks like they didn’t level enough, now did they~?”

You found yourself gritting your teeth at Idia above. Already, Vil, Rook, and Epel were readying themselves at your side. The rest soon followed, the weapons they had gained during their prior fights with the Overblot Beasts being raised and ready to overwhelm Idia’s Blot. Idia began to cackle, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Uh ooohh~! Eheheheheheheeeee~! They found the special gear~! But that’s really not gonna do much, you guys! Totally on top of my game, y’know~? These HP and attack stats are through. The. ROOF!”

With his words, Idia’s Overblot Beast, Ortho, began to unleash a flurry of attacks upon you and your party, forcing all of them to scatter across the area. The Beast seemed to know precisely what to do- orders most likely given before this entire fiasco began. You began to find yourself being slowly but surely separated from everyone else thanks to the Beast’s targeted attacks. This separation was key- this was what Idia wanted. He watched as you eventually were cornered entirely, exactly where he wanted you. Once more, a grin spread out under his mask. You looked so cool and tough despite all of this neverending pressure, still shouting out commands for the others to work together to defend themselves, each other, or deflect the attacks his Beast was allowing itself to barrage them all with. He soared downwards until he was finally just before you. You had jumped back slightly upon noticing him approaching, but there truly was nothing that you could use at this time to defend yourself with. He leaned forward, his clawed hands now pressing themselves to either side of the wall beside your head.

“There you are~! The hero themselves~! The shining star of the hour- no, the entirety of Night Raven College~! This is our final stage, (Y/N)! Isn’t it thrilling~?”

“Idia, this is absolutely crazy! You are going to wind up killing us all with thi-”

A clawed finger pressed itself against your lips as he shifted, shushing you gently as he rolled his glowing amber eyes.

“Okay, listen- babe. (Y/N). Baby. Babycakes. Sweetheart. Sweetie pie. Wonder Student. I’m gonna stop you riiigghhtt there, actually- because I know. I know about the whole thing. But you’re gonna be my hero, you know~? You are going to save a life- just like you’ve been doing! So, it’s all good, ‘kay~?”

You began to attempt to protest, but you soon found yourself being swept into Idia’s arms and pulled about. The crazed Overblotted Idia now began to waltz with you despite all of the destruction around the both of you. He sighed blissfully, his eyes burning ablaze with a fiery passion- it was unnerving. He leaned forward once more, now beginning to hush into your ear through that glowing mask he wore.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, (Y/N). The countless hours I have spent watching and studying your damn near every move…I know your exact schedule bit by bit, y’know, ehehehehee~ I mean, with you and your coolness, you never know when you’re gonna stop another Overblot, honestly. But that coolness that you have doesn’t matter down here- and y’know why~?”

Your eyes soon widened considerably as you felt Idia grab onto your arm. One of his clawed fingers now was set ablaze with a small, blue flame. His grip was tight- commanding in every sense of the word. The flame began to trace itself upon your flesh as he continued to speak- ignoring your cries and attempts to struggle away from him.

“I know everything about you. I have seen your struggles. Your pain. I mean, separated from your home, whatever friends and family you had before…and thrust into a world of magic without any magic yourself. You have been left in the cold by the Fates themselves to fend for yourself. You struggle simply to survive from day to day without any money here…you struggle to maintain your cool and calm composure and keep people like those Heartslabyul first years and the little guy in line…and you then have to deal with the rantings and ravings of spoiled brats like those that Overblotted and, despite wanting for it all to just end, have to buck yourself up instead and keep them from ending it all? It is just an endless cycle of pain, regret, and a loveless life that you have fallen into.”

The more Idia spoke and you felt that flame burning upon your arm, the more you found yourself getting lost into the swirling golden pools upon his sleek, pale, oddly handsome face that were his eyes. For the first time since you had arrived here…you actually genuinely felt seen. You felt heard. Oddly enough, from someone that you had truly rarely seen outside of his own room within the confines of the school itself. Your own gaze finally shifted down to your arm as his finger retracted. He had burned the insignia of his family’s company, S.T.Y.X., onto your flesh. He blew out the fire on his finger, now grinning once more wickedly beneath his mask as his clawed hands now seized you by the waist once more, pulling you into his deadly embrace.

“I know, I know. I know it hurts. All of that going on and absolutely nothing to ever truly be gained from it all…well, my Wonder Student…that’s gonna end for you right now. With what I just gave you…you are mine. And when you’re mine, you have a purpose. You will be protected, provided for. No longer shall you be within the confines of a cage and hidden away in the shadows- you shall be the bright and shining star in our tale- and properly get those monetary stats and all of that raised~!”

Idia’s hand whisked over his face- where that mask was nestled. The mask faded away, revealing his pearly white, razor sharp teeth. They glistened at you as it felt Death was grinning at you- which it essentially was. His royal blue lips curled upwards into a wicked grin as he tugged you even closer to himself, now leaning all of the way forward towards you.

“C’mon~”

He began to pull you with him once more, twisting and turning your body with himself. His clawed hands trailed up and down your figure within your shared dance of destruction, his thoughts split between what he would do with you now that you belonged to him…and that of his brother’s life that you soon would pull up from the depths of the Underworld for him. You all would be a family together- and that only seemed to excite him further as his motions grew swifter, yet sly. He soon had you dramatically dipped, and his lips captured yours in a warm, passionate kiss…thus beginning your true dance with death.

~End~

[farfromstrange]

Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then. 

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow. 

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this. 

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare. 

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much? 

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back. 

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now. 

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day. 

One day. 

Three hundred days, all wasted in one. 

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one. 

And then it just… ended. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself. 

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own. 

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back. 

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!�� But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands. 

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up. 

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again. 

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes. 

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up. 

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it. 

But God, you were so in love. 

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up. 

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him. 

You killed each other. 

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it. 

He was your first true love. 

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once. 

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter. 

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget. 

You need to forget Matt Murdock. 

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home. 

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

[shushmal]

Stranger to Myself (I think of Home)

For @steddie-week Day 5! Rated T — Check the tags and content warnings!

Eddie is a monster.

Eddie started watching Steve because it didn’t hurt so bad. Didn’t hurt like it does with every glimpse he catches of Wayne, of Dustin. The people who had loved Eddie when he was Eddie. But Steve—Steve was safe. Steve was a boy Eddie knew in passing glances and high school gossip, a guy who was laughing with his friends in another room at every party, a man who planted his feet and fought monsters and helped save the world. Steve who told Eddie to be safe, because Steve was kind when he didn't have to be, when he wasn't expected to—so Eddie finds himself watching Steve instead.

Because Eddie is a monster, and Steve knows exactly what to do with monsters. Eddie knows this.

To Steve, it wouldn't matter that Eddie is the last little bit of the apocalypse still kicking around Hawkins. Eddie who had been chewed up and spat out of hell at the last second, just before the final dungeon slammed shut, sneaking through the shadows unseen, past the unsuspecting heroes wrapped up in their victory. Past his friends, the people who had tried to keep Eddie safe. Past Dustin, who’s face had already been changed by grief.

Past Steve, as well. Steve, who told Eddie to be safe, and Eddie hadn’t.

Eddie wonders sometimes, what Vecna really had in mind for him. 

But Eddie is just an unfinished experiment, not quite who he used to be, but not yet the thing Vecna had been trying to twist him into, before the wrinkly ballsack bastard bit it and disintegrated into dust like some b-grade horror movie villain written by some unimaginative hack that shouldn’t have even been in the writer’s room.

He’s the last piece of the Upside Down, Vecna’s last monster, but Eddie’s worst crime post-resurrection is a bit of misdemeanor stalking, simple battery, and animal cruelty. A guy’s gotta eat, afterall. It had taken a while to figure out his own exact brand of vampirism, but Eddie’s gone a few years now without killing anything or anyone. He would be proud of it, but instead he watches Steve make dinner and feels sick on the aftertaste of iron and salt still coating his tongue.

Eddie had started watching Steve because it didn’t hurt, because Steve would take care of it, if Eddie ever needed to be put down. Eddie knows this.

So, it didn’t hurt so bad to watch Steve—until it did. 

By then, Eddie was too far gone and couldn’t stop.

His Steve who came back to his lonely castle, days and days after that final battle, after the climax of the story, the end of a legend, still bloody and scorched, none the wiser to the monster peering through his windows, watching. And that was Eddie’s first clue, that was how Eddie first learned that he wasn’t really Eddie anymore—that nervous energy he used to have in life had died with him. Now he sits motionless in the tall pines behind Steve’s house for hours and days, unmoving, as he watches Steve live. 

Sometimes, Steve looks out his window, eyes scanning the treetops like he knows Eddie’s there. Everytime, Eddie sits up a little straighter, like a dog eager for attention. But everytime, Steve’s eyes drift past him, unseeing, searching.

It leaves Eddie—already out of step with life, with humanity—a little unsettled, a little too hopeful. Eddie is a thing that shouldn’t be seen ever again, a dead man without a heartbeat, without breath in his lungs, without a reason to exist and yet still here. He wishes he were still dead. He wishes even more that Steve knew he was there, that Steve was looking for him. But Eddie knows better. Eddie can’t go to Steve, because Eddie is a monster and Steve has fought enough monsters. Eddie doesn’t want to get added to the list. He doesn’t want to do that to Steve.

Eddie sits in the trees instead, unmoving and watching for days and weeks. Sometimes he leaves, to feed. Sometimes he stands in the middle of Steve’s empty house when he’s gone, breathing in the lonely silence. Sometimes, he closes his eyes and dreams.

But they’re never his own dreams.

And he never, ever visits anyone else in their sleep, in their dreams and nightmares. No one, except for Steve. His Steve, who’s dreaming of a summer day, sun high in the sky, sitting on the top of skull rock with a six pack and a cigarette. It’s such a simple, beautiful dream. All of Steve’s dreams are like that. Eddie watches the line of Steve’s neck as he tilts his head back in the sunlight, face catching the July warmth.

Steve doesn’t startle when Eddie sits beside him. Just leans in until his head rests on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful, Eddie wants to cry.

“I miss you,” Steve whispers, like it’s a secret. He presses a smile into Eddie’s jacket. “Isn’t that silly? I barely even knew you.”

Eddie has to swallow back the emotion filling his throat. “Yeah, that’s pretty silly,” he croaks.

“I wanted to though,” Steve sighs. He leans even closer, hands grasping at Eddie’s sleeve, the back of his shirt, and Eddie wishes they could melt into each other, become one thing, become Steve with just Eddie hiding between Steve’s ribs, in his blood, sitting in the center of his chest right next to his heart. “I wanted to know you. I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

If this were real, if they were really sitting on skull rock in the sunlight right now, if Eddie was human, he would be crying. But here, in Steve’s dream, he doesn’t, can’t. Maybe Steve doesn’t want him to be sad.

“Really?” he breathes instead. “Me?”

Steve hums, his hand sliding down into Eddie’s, fingers warm, soft. “Robin calls you my Great Bisexual Awakening.”

Eddie barks a laugh, throwing his head back. He wants to be sobbing, but he laughs instead and when he stops, Steve is looking up at him, painted dream soft and sweet. They watch each other, Eddie cataloging the specks of gold and green in Steve’s eyes. He’s beautiful. 

But then Steve blinks, and the corner of his mouth turns down, smile falling away. Eddie feels his skin prickle. He feels watched.

“I miss you,” Steve says again, urgent. And then, just like that, he smiles again, and the feeling’s gone, and Steve presses his face once more into Eddie’s shoulder. “Tell me something.”

Eddie tries to shake off the feeling of disquiet, to relax back into the tenderness of Steve’s dream. “Like what?”’

“Something I don’t know.” He’s beautiful, so beautiful, and Eddie adores him, loves him so much.

“I wanted to kiss you, too.”

Eddie opens his eyes, his breath sharp in the silent forest, and watches as Steve sits up in his bed, gripping the blankets tight in his fists. Even from here, in his haven in the trees, he can see the tears on Steve’s face. He never wants Steve to cry.

When morning comes, he steals into Steve’s home, buries himself in the lingering warmth of his sheets after Steve leaves for work. The fading smell of him is intoxicating, even the salty sting of Steve’s tears, and Eddie wants so desperately. Wants him from the pain in his throat, the hitch in his breath, the way he’s been hollowed from the inside out. Everything has been taken out of Eddie, scooped from between his ribs and scraped smooth, an empty jack o’lantern waiting to rot on the front step. 

The wanting is worse than the starving, the thirst. Eddie can’t cry anymore, he isn’t human enough to, but he wishes he could.

Instead, he lays in Steve’s bed, breathes him in, and disappears into the woods behind Steve’s home when he hears the rumble of Steve’s car turn onto the street. He watches as Steve falls into the bed, long gone cold since Eddie has soaked up all the warmth from the blankets in the long hours of Steve's absence. He watches, a monster, as Steve’s eyes glance through the window, eyes on the trees. Straightens up, hoping and wanting, and slumps as that gaze slides past him. He watches Steve’s evening with longing building in his chest, and when Steve slips beneath his covers, Eddie closes his eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

Steve is sitting on the edge of his roof in this dream, watching the forest intently. He doesn’t turn his head towards Eddie, caught on a particular spot in the woods.

“You, I think. At least, I think it’s you. I hope it’s you.”

Eddie leans in close, hoping that Steve will turn his eyes, to look at Eddie, to give him that sweet, dreamy smile. “You shouldn’t bother waiting for something like me,” he tells Steve, desperate for those pretty eyes to look at him. “You should be happy.”

“I am happy,” Steve murmurs. He doesn’t look happy. He doesn’t look at Eddie. He watches the distant trees, standing guard. “I’m happy waiting. I think I can wait forever.”

Eddie doesn’t dare touch him, doesn’t dare turn Steve’s head. Even though it hurts. It hurts so bad, so Eddie opens his eyes. In the distance, Steve turns in his bed, chest expanding with a sleepy sigh, and doesn’t leave his dreams.

Morning comes again, and the night falls again, morning and night and morning. Eddie rises from his perch, glides closer to the empty house to steal through the unlocked door. He lays in Steve’s bed, in the shadow of Steve’s warmth left on the sheets. Breathes him in, even though Eddie needs no air. He leaves when he hears the rumble of a familiar engine. Night falls. He closes his eyes.

Eddie watches the way Steve sits on the edge of his roof again, feet dangling, eyes scanning the treeline at the back of his house, quiet and sentry. Like he’s waiting for another monster to appear between the tree trunks. Eddie sits beside him, and doesn’t speak, not even when Steve whispers, only once.

“I miss you.”

Morning comes again, and then night. Sun and moon, wax and wane. The summer heat does not bother Eddie, nor does the winter snow. He imagines building a family of snowmen in Steve’s yard, company for a lonely house. No one visits Steve here. Like they’d forgotten Steve altogether, and Eddie’s the only one left to bear witness to Steve Harrington. Steve who is lonely, who sleeps and dreams and waits for the monster in the woods. Or maybe…

Maybe Steve told them not to come here. Because here is only for Steve, and only for Eddie.

Night falls, and then the morning breaks. Steve doesn’t rise from the bed.

Uneasily, Eddie shifts. Snow slides from his shoulders, landing in heavy thumps on the forest floor below him. He watches as Steve rolls onto his back, arm over his eyes, mouth twisted in pain. Even from here, he can see the tears on Steve’s face. He watches Steve lay in bed the entire day, until night falls. Eddie closes his eyes.

Steve’s dream isn’t a dream this time—a vast darkness instead, stretching long and far. Eddie takes a hesitant step. Water splashes beneath his bare foot. He turns.

And suddenly, it’s like he can hear Steve in his ear, whispering, “I’m happy waiting. I think I can wait forever.”

Eddie turns again, and Steve is there, watching, waiting. Eddie feels the instinct of it, the prickling awareness of being seen. It settles over his skin, sharp and biting like ants. Eddie is the monster, and Steve has found him. His gaze roots Eddie where he stands, water lapping against his toes. The ripples roll away from him, stretching the unreachable distance between Eddie and Steve, distant stars, until they crash against Steve’s feet, and the water settles again, falls calm.

“I miss you though,” Steve whispers, right into Eddie’s ear. “I can wait forever, but I miss you.”

“Really?” Eddie asks. It echoes through the dark. He can see the way Steve smiles, even from so far away.

“Of course,” Steve whispers. “I’m waiting for—”

Dawn breaks through the trees, and Eddie opens his eyes with a gasp. The sound is sharp through the silent forest. Morning mist rises from the pine strewn ground. Steve isn’t in his bed anymore, and Eddie feels himself almost panic, gaze searching.

Searching, until he finds Steve, not even three feet up, sitting above his window on the roof. He stares out into the trees, stares right at Eddie, finally sees the monster in the woods. That gaze raises the hair on Eddie’s arm, animal instinct tightening his muscles, his bones. Steve watches him from his perch on the roof, watches Eddie watch him back. 

He’s the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen.

Because Steve’s not standing guard. He’s waiting. Waiting for the thing in the woods, for Eddie to finally come home.

Eddie shouldn’t, shouldn’t go to him, but now that he knows, how can he make Steve wait a moment longer? 

Steve gasps when he appears, but it’s not fear in his eyes when he looks at Eddie. Eddie feels it again, feels watched, feels seen. Steve looks up at him and his smile is the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen.

“There you are,” he whispers. “I missed you."

[unclewaynemunson]

Steve has only known Eddie for a couple of days.

He thinks back to the way they met in Reefer Rick's boathouse; the desperation in Eddie's eyes, and the fear that had every inch of his body trembling. How utterly defeated he looked when Dustin told him about everything that had been happening in Hawkins over the past years.

He thinks back to the few times he saw him after, when bringing him food or checking up on him. He remembers how anxious he seemed at all times, how the despair and the fear never once left his features.

He thinks back to when they found him at Skull Rock, how his heart skipped a beat in a way that none of the girls he kissed in that same place ever managed to do. He had attributed it to relief, back then, shortly followed by this weird feeling in his chest when Eddie embraced Dustin – jealousy, but not of Eddie, like he had mistaken it for.

He thinks back to when Eddie handed him a flashlight when he was about to jump into Lover's Lake. A light in the darkness. A beacon. All those cliches.

He thinks back to the way in which Eddie waved that oar around when he had already thought himself a dead man. He remembers how right in the middle of that chaotic battle, the thought came to him that Eddie was brave not because of his fearlessness but because of his fear.

He thinks back to the look on Eddie's face when he threw his denim vest at him, and the way it did something to him that was so different from what Nancy's wide-eyed gaze only a second earlier had made him feel.

He thinks back to the honest conversation they had in the woods; the sinister particles that got caught in Eddie's curls like snow, and his fear still so clearly present in his expressive eyes, even though it had gotten pushed to the background by then. He thinks back to their lingering touches; to Eddie leaning into him as if the concept of personal space didn't exist at all and to the warmth he emitted; to Eddie calling him a “good dude” and making his stomach float like it hadn't done in years.

He thinks back to the pure relief on Eddie’s face when their attempt to talk to Dustin worked out; to his elated smile and the way he pumped his fist in the air; to his hand reaching out and squeezing Steve’s shoulder in nothing but excitement upon hearing Dustin’s voice call out to them.

He thinks back to how warm Eddie felt when their legs were pressed against each other while they were sat next to each other on Max’s couch. He remembers looking to his right and seeing how terrified Eddie looked; his quivering lip and his wet eyes, his head resting in his hands. He remembers how he wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm around him and tell him it would all be okay.

He thinks back to the way in which he couldn’t stop staring at Eddie's hands when Eddie was working on starting the motor of the Winnebago. He thinks back to Eddie telling him all about the Munson family name; Eddie calling him big boy with a huge grin on his face; Eddie jumping up from his seat and trusting him enough to let him take the wheel; Eddie cheering behind him like they were going for a rollercoaster ride instead of stealing someone’s house...

He thinks back to the fluttering he felt in his stomach when he watched Eddie mess around with Dustin in the fields; a tiny spark of happiness while they were getting ready for what could be the end of the world as they knew it.

But most of all, he thinks back to the last time he heard Eddie's voice.

Steve? A beat of silence as he turned around, Eddie's eyes piercing into his own. Make him pay.

All he had done was nod. He should've said it, back then. He thought he'd have more time. He'd only just met Eddie, after all. Surely they'd get the opportunity to figure their shit out at their own pace, after the battle would be over.

Don't try be a hero, was the only goodbye he had said to him.

We are not heroes, Eddie had promised him.

“Then why the hell did you do that?” His voice is trembling; Eddie’s hand feels cold in his own. “I liked you better when you weren't a hero, you know.”

He tightens his grip on Eddie's hand, allows himself to imagine that Eddie squeezes back.

“Me too, big boy.”

Steve's eyes snap back to Eddie's face. For a moment, he isn't sure if it's real or if his sleep deprived brain has started full-on hallucinating at this point. But it has to be true; there's no way he could hallucinate those big brown eyes so perfectly, even though they're dazed and glossed-over.

“Was definitely less painful.” Eddie's breathing sounds erratic and his grin looks anything but reassuring, but he's here. He’s alive. He woke up.

They got more time after all. He’ll get to hear everything Steve wanted to tell him. And there's no way Steve is gonna waste another precious second.

[xiaq]

Part 1 Here

Prompts combined for Pt. 2 are : Outsider POV, Steve Harrington is an idiot (affectionate), Wayne Finds Out, and Everyone is Queer Because I Said So.

Wayne Munson knows he’s not the best parental figure. He never liked kids. Never wanted kids. And he nearly said no when the social worker called asking if he wanted to take guardianship of his thirteen-year-old nephew. Because surely there was someone better suited. Except then the social worker told him why Eddie had been removed from his father’s care. About the magazines Eddie’s father had found in Eddie’s backpack that preceded him kicking Eddie out. About the fights Eddie had been getting into at school. About the song lyrics his temporary foster had found in his journal. And suddenly Wayne wasn’t so sure there was a better option. He knew there had to be people more equipped to raise a traumatized queer teenager, but there was no guarantee Eddie would end up with one of them. The opposite was far more likely. Wayne knew firsthand that much of the world was unkind to people like them.

In the years that follow, they don’t talk about it. He figured once he’d won the kid’s trust, Eddie would bring it up in his own time. Or maybe Eddie would ask why Wayne spends a weekend in Indy once a month or maybe ask who he’s spending the weekends with. But somehow those conversations never happen and Wayne doesn’t force them. 

It’s not until he finds Steve Fucking Harrington keeping vigil at Eddie’s hospital bedside that he thinks maybe he should have pushed the issue sooner. 

Because Harrington looks like he’s been through a war. He’s covered in blood and grime; only his arms, washed to his elbows where he’s holding Eddie’s hand, are clean. He’s looking at Eddie with naked emotion. And, perhaps most damning, he’s wearing Eddie’s battle jacket.

When Wayne enters the room, Harrington startles and says, “Hi. I’m Steve Harrington,” like Wayne and everyone else in Hawkins weren’t already aware of that.

“I know who you are. I know who your father is, too.”

“I’d uh, prefer you didn’t hold that against me.”

Wayne makes no promises. “How do you know Eddie?”

“We’re…friends,” Steve says. There’s a continent of things unsaid behind the word.

“And how are you in his room past visiting hours?”

“I bribed the nurse," he admits. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“Well. On that, we’re agreed. But I’m here now. And no offense, kid, but you look like you should be in one of these beds yourself.”

“Yeah. I told them once you got here I’d let them stitch me up. It’s not anything life-threatening.” He says this with the resigned intonation of someone who is familiar with the difference.

What the fuck has Eddie gotten himself involved in?

Harrington stands. It’s a slow, painful, movement, and he only lets go of Eddie’s hand at the last possible second. “Can I—I’d like to come back. After. If you don’t mind.”

Wayne considers him. He considers Eddie’s blood-smeared vest on the kid’s shoulders. He realizes, belatedly, that Eddie’s guitar pick necklace is hanging around Harrington’s bruised throat, the rings usually crammed onto Eddie’s fingers lined up on either side of the pick.

“Sure,” he says. “Be nice to have some company. And you can tell me what the hell happened.”

Harington sighs. “Not sure how much I’m allowed to tell. Or how much you’ll believe. But I can try.”

Wayne takes his place holding Eddie’s hand.

He tries to ignore the fact that Harrington stands in the doorway for more than a minute, just looking, before finally slipping into the hall.

He’s back a few hours later, clearly showered, wrapped in gauze, and wearing the preppiest goddamn outfit. Honestly, Wayne can’t fathom how Eddie and Harrington have anything in common. He’s also still wearing the necklace, though. And when he pulls up a chair to sit on the opposite side of Eddie’s bed, he removes the necklace and carefully, downright tenderly, returns the rings to Eddie’s fingers. Wayne notices, almost despite himself, that Harrington isn’t just guessing at the placement, either. He knows. So either he’s intimately familiar with Eddie’s fingers––something that, as impossible as it sounds, is starting to seem more and more likely––or he’s particularly observant. And that kind of observance speaks to its own sort of devotion. 

Wayne isn’t excited about either of these options.

He’s trying to figure out how to ask if Steve Fucking Harrington is Eddie’s boyfriend without scaring him away when Eddie shifts, which has Wayne and Steve both jumping to their feet.

“Wayne?” he murmurs. And Wayne isn’t one for emotional displays but he finds himself participating in one for the next few minutes nonetheless.

Once he gets ahold of himself, Eddie’s head turns, slow with painkillers, to see Harrington.

“Stevie,” he says, grinning. “Hey. I’m not dead.”

“Despite your best efforts,” Steve chokes out. His hands are fisted under his armpits and he looks about five seconds away from crying. Not that Wayne can judge since he’s more than five seconds into crying.

“What did I tell you, what did you promise?” Harrington snarls.

Eddie’s grin dims. “Not to be a hero. But Dustin––shit. Dustin. Is he...”

“Fine. Sprained ankle. Pissed as hell at you. Everyone else is fine too. Max is down the hall. She has some broken bones but she’ll be alright.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs. “How did I—“

“We went back for you.”

“We?”

“I,” Harrington grits out. “I went back for you. Thought you were dead. Carried you back anyway. Didn’t realize you were still breathing until we got you in the car. Drove like hell to the hospital.”

And that’s. Well, shit. Apparently, Wayne is going to need to temper his distrust of this particular Harrington. Because it sounds like he saved Eddie’s goddamn life.

“He also refused treatment and waited with you until I got here,” Wayne feels he has to add. “Despite the fact he was bleeding everywhere.”

Eddie glances between them, eyes huge. “Shit. I’m sorry. Hey, no, don’t––”

Steve is crying now, not even trying to hide it, and Eddie holds out a hand, wincing. “Come here, man, I’m fine. Or I’ll probably be fine, right?”

“So says the doctor,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve doesn’t need a second invitation.

He all but collapses, carefully, into Eddie’s outstretched arms, and Eddie’s hands bunch into the fabric of Steve’s sweatshirt and he crams his face into Steve’s neck and they’re so––their obvious, desperate, affection for each other is so unapologetic that Wayne has to look away.

 It’s not until later, when they’ve hashed out the basics of the insane upside-down phenomenon, that they finally convince Steve to go home and sleep.

He waits ten seconds after the door has closed to exhale, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Jesus, kid. I knew you had expensive taste with cigarettes and guitars but this? He’s the closest thing to royalty this town has.”

Eddie lets out a hysterical little warble of a laugh. “No. No, no. That’s not—we’re not.”

“What the hell are you then?”

“Friends. Bonded through extreme trauma.”

“But you’d like to be more than friends.”

Eddie looks at him askance “I’ll take what I can get and I won’t ask for more,” he says quietly.

Unfortunately, Wayne is well familiar with that kind of love. He just can’t get Steve’s expression out of his head. The gentle way he’d replaced Eddie’s rings. He doesn’t think Eddie’s interest is as one-sided as Eddie does. But he doesn’t want to meddle. He’s certain they’ll figure themselves out.

Two months later, Wayne is starting to think they’re both idiots. Because half the time when he gets home from his evening bar shift––a new job after the plant disappeared into the fiery abyss––Steve’s BMW is parked down the street and when he cracks Eddie’s bedroom door he finds them cuddled up, asleep. Sometimes he’ll go to rent a movie and Steve will be wearing a shirt that Wayne knows is Eddie’s and half the time when he wakes Eddie up in the mornings he’s wearing a pastel sweater monogrammed with initials that don’t belong to Eddie. He’d think they’re together and keeping it quiet if not for the fact that Eddie is driving him absolutely insane with pining. He’s written three songs about longing and heartbreak in the last two weeks and if Wayne has to listen to one more wailing ballad he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

He’s walking back from the bar after closing, only a mile from the new fancy trailer the government had installed for them when he passes Harrington’s conspicuous vehicle a few houses down. He sighs. The boy really has no sense of subtly. 

He’s expecting to find them, as usual, asleep in a tangle of limbs, except when he reaches the porch stairs, he can hear the boys talking.

He pauses with his hand on the railing.

“What are you doing,” Eddie murmurs, voice just carrying from the open living room window.

“Well. I’d like to kiss you, if you’d let me.”

About damn time, Wayne thinks.

“Steve, wait,” Eddie says. And it’s so quiet, so uncertain, that Wayne is tempted to open the door right then if only to prevent Ed from sounding so broken.

“I can’t be a practice run for you,” Eddie says, “Please. I can’t. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“A––what the fuck, Eddie.”

“It’s just, I know this is new to you and I’m, obviously, all about exploration and, um, finding yourself. Congratulations. Yay. But I can’t be an experiment. Not with you. I can’t.”

“You’re not an experiment,” Harrington says, voice a little louder than Wayne would prefer, given the circumstances. The trailer park isn’t exactly spacious. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I want to kiss you because I’m in love with you, how could you think—besides. This isn’t that new. I’ve kissed other guys.”

“You’ve what? Who? When?”

“Just. You know. Friends messing around. I didn’t know that made me bisexual until I talked about it with Robin but apparently, I’ve been kinda gay this whole time.”

“I’m sorry. You thought making out with your basketball buddies was…a standard heterosexual pastime?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

“What other way is there to say it?”

“Okay,” Steve says, “I already had this conversation with Robin this morning. I don’t need to rehash it again. So I’m a little bit of an idiot. Memo received.”

“Jesus, Harrington. You just found out bisexuality was a thing this morning and now you’re here, what, asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“I mean, yeah. Ideally.”

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you.” Eddie sounds disgustingly fond.

“Eddie. I just said I love you.”

“You did,” Eddie says, high and cracked. “You did say that.”

“So if we could refocus.”

“Right.”

“I don’t expect you to say it back, but––”

“God, you really are an idiot. Of course I fucking love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then that’s––well, that’s probably his nephew getting his first kiss from Steve Fucking Harrington.

Wayne decides to give them to a count of thirty before interrupting, but just as he’s about to stomp his way up the stairs, Eddie says, “Sorry, sorry, I’ve never done this before.”

“Hey, no. It’s ok. Neither have I, really. But you’re crazy if you think I’m going to fuck you right now,” Steve says.

“I meant kissing. Hold on, does that mean you would be willing to fuck me later?”

Wayne winces. There are things he does not need to hear come out of his nephew’s mouth.

“Wait,” Steve interrupts, “You’ve never been kissed before? How is that possible?”

“Who would have kissed me?” Eddie hisses, “ I’m the town pariah. And until I met Robin I didn’t know any other queer people existed in Hawkins. Though apparently, I should have just joined the basketball team since you’re having orgies or whatever.”

“The first two were on the swim team,” Steve says. 

“First two. How many were there?”

Steve ignores him. “And that wasn’t––you’re so hot, though. And your band has played in bigger cities. Haven’t you ever gone up to Indy to any of the bars there?”

“I need you to understand,” Eddie says, “that I am 90% bravado and 100% anxiety.”

“That’s not how percentages work.”

“Steve.”

“Sorry. Okay. Well, if this is your first kiss then I better make it good, huh?”

“Yes. That is absolutely the burden placed upon your capable shoulders should you choose to––oh.”

Eddie stops talking and doesn’t start again, though he does make a breathy little noise that Wayne takes as his cue.

He stomps up the stairs as loudly as possible, fumbling longer than necessary with the door handle, and pushes his way inside.

The boys are both shirtless, clearly in the process of shoving themselves away from each other. Eddie’s face is pink and his lips are kiss-swollen and Harrington’s back has a set of welted scratches on it that Wayne imagines are a perfect match for Eddie’s fingers.

“Well, shit,” Wayne says. He definitely should have opened the door sooner.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Eddie says.

“What the fuck else what it be?” Steve says, only sounding a little hysterical.

Except then the kid is pushing Eddie behind him and squaring up to Wayne with his jaw clenched and his head high, the discolored ring around his neck, still not yet healed, the scars down his belly, on display. Wayne is well-acquainted with the nuance of a man posturing versus a man who would gladly throw himself into a fight, even one he’s not certain he’d win. Steve Harrington is indisputably the latter.

Wayne can’t decide if he’s offended or endeared.

“Stand down, kid, I’m not going to hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t let you.” 

“That is…extremely apparent.”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “It’s ok. He knows. Or. We’ve never really talked about it but.” He meets Wayne’s eyes. “He knows. It’s ok.”

Eddie pushes around him, stepping into Wayne’s open arms.

Steve watches distrustfully as Wayne wraps Eddie in a hug.

“You’re both safe here,” he says. Mostly to Steve, since he’s the one who needs to hear it. “And I’ll call up my boyfriend in Indy and have him vouch for me if you don’t believe me.”

Harrington’s expression is just as magnificent as Wayne hoped it would be.

“Your what?” Eddie shrieks.

Part 3 Here.

On AO3 Here.

Tempted to do one more from one of the kid's POVs when the kids find out. Thoughts?

[justheretodump]

this is going to be dc x danny phantom x miraculous ladybug x spiderman

---

jazz fenton and constantine had met, of course, on a dreary december night, when rain had poured ominously. with thundering clouds above, constantine had blinked awake from a coma-like nap to the sound of knocking on his apartment door.

a wet and scowling jazz had stood on the other side, orange hair stuck to her skin and shaking hands gripping a leather tome to her chest. despite her shaky appearance, she spoke clearly, southern drawl shaping the vowels uniquely, "john constantine? my name's jazz fenton, may i come in?"

"no."

trying to slam the door shut had no affect, as she had simply shoved the book in the way.

"i really need your help."

"fuck off."

constantine blocked the open slit with his body as she shimmied her knee in for more leverage.

"i'm a history student at gotham u." another mini scuffle as both pushed against the door. "i'm looking for information on an old myth." constantine tried using his hip to push the tome out of the way. "do you know about lazarus pits?"

constantine rebooted his brain to shake away the shock. clearing his throat, he backed away, the door squeaking on its hinges to show the smirking girl. "may i come in?"

the australian man scoffed and drifted away to the kitchen table. the student surveyed the crappy apartment as she followed, sitting down across from him with a relieved grunt. she put the book on the table.

he eyed the girl warily, "what's this about lazarus pits? where'd you hear it?"

she cleared her throat, back straight and hands crossed on her lap. if it wasn't for her sorry state, she would be the image of professional.

"i'm not in a position to discuss my sources. however, from what i've heard, there's one underneath this city." her eyes glinted a steely aquamarine. "i need to see it."

constantine barked a gruff laugh. "you're crazy. there isn't a chance in hell ranga." he jerked his head at the book on the table. "what's with that then?"

her hands flipped its pages, stopping at a detailed drawing of a bubbling pit. upside down, it was hard for constantine to decipher. "it says in here that long ago, bubbling pits of green water were used by witches to speak with the dead. they could only be found in places with a strong lack of godly devotion, invoking satan's forces." she huffed, a sad smile lifting her face. "if i can confirm gotham's lazarus pit and what it consists of, i can further argue the existence of gotham's own witch coven in the 1600s before the salem trials. for my thesis, of course."

"for your thesis," constantine echoed, a bit mockingly.

"of course." repeated jazz pleasantly. "if you're so unwilling to come along, a few directions would suffice."

the man snarled, "no dice kiddo, scram."

jazz seemed unfazed, gathering herself up with the grace of a dancer. sweeping the book back into her hands, she walked towards the doorway. under the frame, she turned to tutt at him, "i'd spray some air freshner in here. cigarrette smoke attracts unfavorable forces."

---

jazz fenton did not disappear nor fade into obscurity. constantine had the pleasure of her company the following wednesday, where both had escaped certain death at the hands of a cursed portrait pulling unassuming tourists into its french landscape.

sat in the ruins of a crumbling mansion, constantine lit his cigarrette and studied the girl across from him. "so, how did your research lead you here?"

jazz snorted, decorative mace still in hand even after the fight had ended, "property records were transferred to the gotham government after the trials. just had to figure out what victim it was connected to and, voila, witch mansion."

---

after much persuasion and conversation, constantine decided that this girl, with the smarts for battle and a deep intuision for the magical, would be his prodigy. and if her company included good banter, fatherly worries and emotional attachment, that was neither here nor there.

---

two years later, jazz fenton was a doctor in historical studies of gotham folklore, a museum consultator and a justice league dark probationary member.

batman and zatanna, both well aware of the orphan constantine had taken under his wing, had not been surprised to greet her at the door of the australian's apartment.

"sorry for the mess guys, we've been drawing all night." they shimmied across the paper covered floor into the kitchen where the blonde was eating a bowl of cereal. "we've narrowed down the source of the problem somewhat. last thursday, what you saw on that hill, we think it might be an old gaelic deity, cailleach."

zatanna frowned at the idea, "a gaelic deity? deities don't leave their countries."

constantine spoke through a garble of cheerios, "yes but what if they weren't this earth's deity?"

batman remained silent and jazz spoke to him, "when a deity is borne from worship or belief, they tend to only exist there."

"something only exists if it is observed." the bat mused.

jazz brightened, "yes! deities only exist in the countries that they're observed in. however, we believe this cailleach is not our scotland's deity but rather doesn't exist tied to a reality at all."

"but a deity can't exist without a belief well," zatanna replied.

"well, yes," constantine stood up and dragged over a vintage drawing of an old woman in a cloak, her hand wielding a hammer, "but what if someone could die and leave their reality's vibrations? go neither to their hell or heaven or hades' underworld or valhalla or whatever else, and take their beliefs with them?"

"you're talking about the infinite realms."

"the infinite realms?" intoned batman.

jazz showed the caped man a note, this time a depiction of a vast land with floating islands and starry skies. "the infinite realms is a different dimension. it exists on another plane, like icthultu's realm. when we talk about the afterlife, bad or good, every reality has their own. however, the infinite realms can sometimes bleed into every reality. because of this, souls touched by its essence can slip the afterlife and go on to exist in the infinite realms."

"if you were to die bats," constantine leaned back, "there would only be one batman wherever we go after death. but in the infinite realms, you could have 2 or 5 or 10, all dead and from different worlds."

zatanna hummed at all this and looked closer at the runes they'd compiled, "so if a hardcore cailleach believer passed on to the infinite realms, cailleach could come to life there."

constantine snapped his finger, "exactly! that's the theory, but really, it only works if the ghost monster that attacked the park next to the hill is the belief well. not really human-like but a possibiliy. the infinite realms has a bad habit of creating weird shit."

"can we expect more creatures to come from the infinite realms?" asked batman.

"no." "maybe."

jazz and constantine whipped their heads to exchange irritated stares. the australian man got up roughly, chair scraping the floor, and took his bowl to the sink, the faucet water breaking the silence.

jazz sat down, gesturing for their two guests to finally sit. she reached underneath the table towards a purple backbag, and pulled out her old book tome. flipping it open, she showed the pit drawing to the other two heroes.

"what if the lazarus pits were connected to the infinite realms?"

zatanna leaned in, intrigued, batman remained stone faced, and constantine scoffed loudly. the blonde began muttering but jazz continued on. "i believe Ra's tried to erase all records of the pits, but mentions of reviving waters can be found all across cult scripts and witch coven writings. waters that could bring back the dead, that whispered with human voices, that sometimes held goulish creatures underneath its waters. a material thick and glowing green penetrating the soil around it. the only evidence of the infinite realms is a page from doctor fate, and he mentioned a green, jelly-like substance!"

constantine huffed again, like an angry boar, and turned, hands covered in soap suds. "i swear to god, you're making connections where they don't exist! if the pits had anything to do with the infinite realms, that would've been the first thing doctor fate told us!"

jazz stood, hands planted on the table, "if you would just trust me, we could go check and rule it out, but ancients forbid i'm right! you're just scared about wha-"

constantine got close to her and pointed in her face, "you've been obsessed with those pits since you stepped into my goddamn apartment two years ago, let it go jazz or i swear i'll pull you off this case."

a thousand emotions flickered across jazz's face before, with teary eyes and a thunderous scowl, she stomped away, figure disappearing into the living room. faintly, the sound of the balcony doors sliding open echoed before a soft click followed.

zatanna, who had witnissed many of jazz and constantine's fights before, and knew how deeply the man cared for the girl, heaved a sigh. both were stubborn and it would take a bit before things settled. she decided to keep quiet, reaching for jazz's tome to keep occupied. as she reached across, a soapy hand impeded her. looking at constantine, he wore a frown, "she doesn't like others touching it. go look at the runes, see if you recognize anything."

zatanna smiled a small thing at the man she was so fond of, and got up to do so.

batman, who had watched everything with mixed feelings, watched the australian go back to the sink. faced with his back, he spoke lowly, "the pit's too far away from the park."

constantine sighed, shoulders drooping, "no, it wouldn't work like that. if it did, anyone revived by the pit would have to stay close to it. and if you destroy some of them, the undead might go back to being dead."

batman mulled this over in silence. he was undecided on the matter, too concerned about what it meant that the pits might be doors to another dimension. he conveyed his worries then, "if the pits are connected to the realms, how were we able to destroy them before?"

"if, and that's a big fucking if, they are connected to the realms, the essence can't be destroyed. it's all around us, all the time. the important bit is stacking it in one place to create a way through. like a stone bridge. when you destroy the pits, all you're doing is breaking up the stone, but the stone crumbles to the bottom, and you could, hypothetically, pick up each stone and put it together again. i guess the only things that works as a glue for it in our world is water."

"you're pretty calm discussing it now."

"one of these days that girl's gonna end up digging a hole she'll die in."

"kids are like that."

---

later on, when the apartment meeting had ended with no new leads and batman had debriefed the other bats, it was decided, unknown to constantine, that red robin and batman would look into the current state of the gotham lazarus pit. zatanna and martian manhunter would visit arabia to check the other naturally formed pit.

constantine and jazz were still on the fritz, but one evening, to constantine's concern, the girl had called to say she would be in illinois for a few days, "visiting the orphanage". the redhead had never done so before, but who was the australian to interrogate her? he wished her a good trip and that was that.

---

jazz had been missing for two weeks, calls unanswered, phone untrackable. gotham had witnessed two more ghost-like monster attacks, and all three of them had been untouchable, disappearing on their own in 30 minutes. the bats were too concerned with uncovering the source, justice league dark had been put on the case and too was scrambling for clues, and constantine was ready to rip his hair out in concern for his prodigy.

on his way to the airport, in the backseat of a taxi, ready to fly to springfield, his phone rang, lighting up with a smiling graduation picture of jazz fenton.

he rushed to answer it, "hello?! ranga?! jazz!"

crackling came through, the mic rustling before a breathless voice called back, "cons---tine! we ne--- help! i'm outs--- f amity park, th--- a sig---al blo---. you n---d to come! the hou--- a portal! --- stantine?! hello?!"

the line cut off. constantine told the taxi driver to floor it.

2

[acewithapaintbrush]

@somerandomdudelmao s latest update for the Cass apocalyptic series has given me mental damage so I'll make it everyone's problem

🐢🐢🐢🐢

Donatello remembers falling asleep. It's a generous word for dying, but that's what it felt like. Closing your eyes and just drifting off, just a feeling of contentment and peace. As peaceful as dying can be. 

It was painless at least. That's a plus if you ask him. The constant heaviness in his bones, the itching at the back of his eyes, telling him to close and never open them again, the constant buzzing in the back of his head. It all just went away the moment he let go. 

For a second he'd felt weightless. Free. He'd felt young again, had imagined himself jumping over rooftops with his brothers and feeling the wind on his skin. The battle shell a comforting weight on his back instead of the crushing burden it has become during the last few weeks of his life. He'd imagined himself jumping and landing, jumping and landing, effortlessly. Had imagined himself looking to the left and seeing Leo, keeping pace, grinning and whole. Looking to the right and seeing Mikey and Raph, happy and laughing. He'd imagined looking forward again and seeing April and Dad and so many others, standing there, waving at him, their silhouettes stark against the sun lowering behind New York's skyline. 

He'd thought "Ah. This must be heaven" 

And then nothing. 

And then too much, all at once. Like a computer going into overdrive, a hard drive rewriting and deleting itself over and over. He feels torn apart, his body rearranging itself constantly, nothing but a mist of energy one second and in the next blink of an eye a solid mess. When he has eyes and he can look down, he sees hands and arms glowing and glitching, but before he can panic or make sense of anything, he is gone again, just shadow and clouds, scattered across what his world has turned into. 

This is nothing like what Raph described. Donnie expected some mystical mumbo jumbo, thanks to their ninpo and their connection to their ancestors. But what he'd expected had been Gram-Gram and Dad, waiting for him with open arms. 

Not whatever the shell this is! 

Figures! Even in death this mystical stuff manages to screw him over. Paint him surprised. NOT! 

Time seems to be meaningless here. It feels like forever and it feels like just a second before something changes in his new world. The light changes, the texture of his surroundings solidifies. His body is as stable as it ever is, glitching and oozing with overflowing ninpo, but here and real. 

There is a figure in the distance and Donatello can't make out who it is but he knows, knows as instinctively as he knows himself, as he knows his brothers. 

The figure comes closer and they collide and Donnie feels himself rip apart AGAIN, but this time it's different. This time it's like coming home, like breathing in after years of holding it all in. 

And then there is nothing and then there is a lot again. Not too much this time, just the right amount. But confusing and dizzying. Donatello is still not quite back yet, still feels alien to himself, but he's as whole as one can probably be after dying. 

There are many new sensations pressing down on him. All of it familiar yet unfamiliar. The ninpo of his brothers, but much too young. The familiar energy of Casey Jones surrounding him, in contrast older and much more burdened than it should be. 

But no time to panic. Assess and analyze Donatello, it's what you do best. There will still be time to freak out once you have figured out what the hell is going on. 

"You know, I think I might need to invent a new scale to rate this rescue experience."

[thisisxli]

𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. - 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁.

Rs: Pro! Katsuki Bakugou x Pro! GN Reader(afab)

Warnings: manga spoilers, ANGST, grief, slight panick attacks, MAJOR character death mention(not canon but is canon..), heart break

Tags: bittersweet, different circumstances, reader is kind of a crybaby but for good reasons, time/dimensional travel, reader is hopelessly in love with him + will hopelessly be stuck on him for the rest of their life, Katsuki is equally or more in love, reminiscing, everyone is in their early 30s

Summary: Being hit by a quirk is one thing. But to be sent to another universe is absolutely bewildering. It starts to become heart-wrenching when someone you once knew as dead is now alive in this alternate universe.

wc: 1.1k

Recommended song:

a/n: if you enjoy this work, check out the others in my Masterlist. :)

Being hit with a quirk usually didn't phase you, it was rather common for you.

But to be sent to a whole other timeline- or rather... universe? You knew it was the same timeline but different universe. Why? Because Katsuki Bakugou was standing right in front of you- with another you holding his hand, both staring at you in surprise. In fact, it wasn't just them. But other old classmates from the high school you used to attend. Shocked faces as the other you ushers them out the room. You couldn't move your gaze away from Katsuki at all. Because the Katsuki you knew was dead. To see him standing, more mature, a grown man ridden with scars has you bawling rather quite embarrassingly.

"Hey! Who the hell- wait no.. What-" Katsuki's head turns to you and the other you aggressively, confusion and agitation growing into his face. Before he could blow at your crying figure, the other you steps up in front of you, hands held up in defense. "Katsuki! Don't.. resort to that. Let's be calm and rational.. Let's.." The other you turns to you, a worried expression displayed on their features. "Let's just talk."

And so, that's what you did. You explain how you were in the middle of battling a villain just before you got hit by their quirk. Kirishima and the other pros must be worried about you right now.

"And... Bakugou," your breath hitches, eyes flickering to him for a second, "in my universe.. You died. You died in the war from All For One... or rather, Shigiraki." Katsuki stiffens at the mention of that familiar yet foreign name. So did other you. The... other Kirishima rubs your back soothingly. "Edge-shot wasn't able to repair your heart.. it.. it- after you died, I couldn't- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you mutter, bowing deeply at his feet as you squeeze your eyes shut tight, tears escaping through and past your eyelids. Your breathing rapidly increases which Katsuki quickly picks up before Kirishima does, grabbing you under the arms gently, lifting you up to sit back to your position. The other you seemed almost heart-broke at the thought of dead-Katsuki, sharing their sympathy.

Katsuki was silent the whole time, a calm expression on his face. You barely saw that back in high school. You wonder how he is at this time of age.

"Kiri, let's go," the other you urges, waving a hand at Kirishima. They give you a soft smile before walking off and out the room with the red spiky haired man. You and Katsuki sit there in silence, a few silent tears escaping your face at the view of your.. dead crush/classmate? You didn't even know anymore. "Stop your crying," Katsuki scoffs, closing his eyes. You blink at him. Seriously? Maybe he was still the same- "I hate seeing you cry," he looks into your eyes, raising his hand to your face to wipe a tear with his thumb, "it makes me upset." Wait- woah. Were.. you two together?

You blush heavily, wrinkling your pants when you tighten your hold on it. He notices of course, waving your hand away. "I don't know if you're just realizing we're together," wow. He reads you like a book. "But if you are just now realizing it, you need to get that brain of yours checked."

Same old, same old. You snort before laughing, earning a soft scowl from him. "Tell me.." Your laughter dies out, tilting your head to listen, "how is it like.. without me there?" You blink at him, smile dropping quickly. "Well.. It's... empty, at least for me, always has. A lot of us are doing fine there, it's like.. you never existed," his face turns sour from that, "but you are brought up time to time.. and we celebrate the day you died- not that we're celebrating that you died! But.. you were honestly," you look up at him with adoring eyes, "one of the greatest heroes of all time. So we felt the need to celebrate the day of your self-sacrifice."

Katsuki looks at you, unable to comprehend on how to respond to that. Luckily, when nothing comes to mind, you ask him a question, "how did.. we..? How did you.." He chuckles, running his scarred hand over his hair. "I confessed first, if that's what you're asking. We started dated in our second year and have been ever since," his eyes avert down to the golden ring on his finger and your eyes also follow, "and we.. got married. about six years ago."

You look up at his face, his face contorting into a softening loving look. You never seen this side of him before at all. Your feelings that you never lost for the boy, now man, seems to grow a little more.

You both flinch when a weird swooshing sound comes from behind you, a portal comes into your view when you turn. Out pops is a way much more familiar red spiky haired man. "(Y/N)! You-" suddenly his voice breaks and stops working, staring at the grown blonde man in front of you. "Bakugou," Kirishima breathes, tears seeping from his tear ducts, threatening to fall. Now it was time for you to cry. You shake your head violently, jumping into Bakugou's arms, catching him by surprise. "N-no! I don't- wait please! I don't want to go yet! Not yet, not yet! Please- Katsuki! I have so much to say- so much to ask! Please-" Katsuki kisses you in an open mouth kiss, hands gently caressing your face and hair.

Heat rises to your cheeks as tears fall, his warm lips detaching from yours. "That always works," he chuckles softly, looking up at Kirishima with a fond smile before looking down at you with his piercing eyes that held so much love, the same you held for him. "(Y/N), I am so, so sorry that I'm not there. I really am, for everybody. If you had more time, of course I'd answer anything you'd ask. But let me tell you this," he gently pecks your forehead gently, as if on cue, the other you walks in with a small Bakugou clinging onto their leg. Your lip bobbles at the sight. "I love you. I always did, have, and will," Bakugou wraps his arms around you, smiling at the now-crying Kirishima from your universe. Even with Katsuki's voice being so soft, his voice still remained so gruff. His voice was like hearing music for the first time in years. Something you hadn't heard in years.

Before you step through the portal, you look back at the happy family, all three smiling at you. You smile back, feeling a little bitter that you couldn't have this ending. But nonetheless, you were happy that another part of you still got this ending. You felt closure. Now that you know that he still survived from the war, you were a little happy.

Only that it was just from another universe. Not yours.

[peterparkouryo]

beneath the surface | ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

prompt; Peter faces a hard battle, one to which he loses.

warnings: angst, mention of death and violence

word count: 3.0k

disclaimer: i legit have not seen nwh in two years, i had to literally make this story based off a summarization from google. i apologize its so bad i had no patience to rewatch the movie.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

Someone once told you that, even when something slips your mind, trust that it will find its way back to you. You always deemed this true, everything always sought out to swivel into your prosperity no matter how impossible you thought it to be.

It was like you were a ladybug, always lucky. Well, you'd like to think that was the case, in reality it wasn't even close. The past few months were hell. Not only for you, but for your best friend Peter Parker.

He had to deal with the heavy weight instantaneously put upon his shoulders. The consequence of figuring out how to live a life he wrestled so hard to keep private. You knew Peter thought the burden of the entire world perceiving his double life drained him completely. It was not as if he had cut everyone who already knew of him being Spider-Man out his life, no, if anything it only made him want to protect them more. 

The hardship the poor boy went through in just the last few months made your heart ache, knowing how difficult it was for him to function without the help of his mentor. You reached out to Peter every single day, making sure he remembered there were people who cared for him and he could turn to.

As for you, being a friend of Spider-Man (or as Ned likes to say, "F.O.S") is a tough task. The stares you received not only in school, but in public were haunting. You knew everyone was judging you for being involved with who they believed was a murderer. It was nauseating to even think about, because Peter is anything but that. He's kind, caring, and modest. The boy couldn't even kill a fly if the opportunity was presented to him.

No one understood the boy, now that the secret was out. The whole world was against him, or at least majority of the world. Michelle informed you that he didn't really enjoy this particular version of fame he gained, and you couldn't help but agree.

When you heard of Peter's visit with Doctor Strange, you learn he tried in his own way to make things right again. He asked the wizard (who you didn't think was very kind based off your brief interaction with him) to cast a spell that would make the whole world forget he was Spider-Man in hopes that he could reverse what ruined you and your friends' chances of getting into college.

Peter being Peter finds a way to mess it up, which not only decreased his chances of ever having the world forget of his vigilance, but he apparently opened the multiverse. It allowed villains who knew of your friend being Spider-Man from other universes to enter your world, and the entire thing was damn near impossible to believe.

At first, you couldn't wrap your head around anything that was told to you, that was until Peter shows you proof of his encountrment with a man with literal mechanical octopus arms, a dinosaur—or more appropriately, a lizard, a man made of sand, and another one who produced electricity from his body.

Your friend felt responsible to help them. After learning their fates, which meant if he sent any of them back to their respectable worlds, they'd die. It wasn't an ideal situation, and Peter was noble, too noble. He wanted to cure them, to give them a second chance.

Reluctantly, you accepted his wishes of wanting you, MJ, and Ned's help, because he was your friend and if wanting to cure random villains from different universes cleared his mind of the world knowing his second life, then you'd be right by his side.

You thought the whole mission to cure would be an easy task, but you were so, so wrong.

Ned offered you and MJ to stay with him at his Nona's while Peter handled the more difficult part of the curing obstacle, and later that night is where you and your friends discovered the horrible, devastating news.

A anarchic consequence. Looking at the TV where the news played, you absorb the information of May's death. You didn't want to believe the details you consumed, because May was almost like a mother to you, and she loved you as much as she loved Peter. You did not even want to think about what was going through Peter's mind, and you just hope the poor boy was not spiralling. 

If you know your best friend, you know that when he spirals, he often isolates himself from everyone and everything. It's a habit you wish he would break, but you suppose anything as heart aching as losing your mother like figure, the choice of isolation is certainly necessary.

You and MJ argue with Ned of wanting to find Peter, making sure he was okay. Before the two of you could walk out the door, Ned reveals that he was in possession of Doctor Strange's sling ring Peter had given him. He concocted the idea that with the ring, it would be easier to find Peter. 

Sharing a look with MJ, you shrug and allow Peter's other best friend to give his idea a shot.

However, when Ned tries to use the ring and concentrates on wanting to find Peter, he finds two older versions of him.

You were in utter awe at this revelation. Two other variants of your best friend almost felt like a dream you could not wake up from.

Eventually after what seemed forever you finally find your Peter, on the roof of your school. When you hug him, immediately engulfing him in your warmth, he breaks down in your arms. It broke your heart, to see Peter so dejected. You wanted to take the pain away. Wanted to remind him that no matter what, you would be there.

The two other Peter's connect and share similar experiences, and encourage your friend to continue fighting.

After the words of encouragement, a new plan came about and Peter, you and your friends team up with the two other world Spider-Men to develop a more strategized cure for the villains.

Finally, you were all lead to the final confrontation at the Statue of Liberty, which is being renovated into Caption America's shield, in honour of him you assume. 

MJ, Ned and yourself manage to help Peter cure the multiverse villains, but not without obvious obstacles. The difficult of such tasks lead to an almost devastating conclusion. The last villain, being the Green Goblin was twisted, wicked even. You pursued that he was the reason for May's life being taken. In the final moments of the battle, the Green Goblin's aggression reaches its peak. 

His aggressive tactics, throwing pumpkin bombs and using his glider caused a significant amount of damage to the structure of the Statue of Liberty. Almost concluded in the death of your friend MJ. Thankfully the second eldest Peter caught your friend in time, but unfortunately for you as the structure falls, along with the shield, so do you.

Death for you, never was a thing you'd think about too often. Sometimes maybe a second thought, but not mindful enough to be taken serious. Sure, you wondered what it would feel like, or even be. Once you die, would you fall into an endless sleep, or would you see nothing forever? As you fell, death was all you could think about, of course. You hope once you reach the bottom of your fate, you wouldn't have to feel the pain and the demise would swallow you right away. You also hoped that Peter somehow, once you were gone, knew how much he meant to you. Knew how much you loved him as more than a friend.

As cliche as it is to be in love with your best friend, you fantasized the intention of being with him no matter how hard you didn't want to, knowing you shouldn't be allowed to even feel as much love for him as you did.

Deep down, you knew Peter deserves to be loved, and you were glad he found it within you, platonically. You could die happy with that acknowledgement.

Before the dark angel could even reach its hand out to you, you drop into familiar arms. Peter quickly swings you to the now fallen shield, holding you as you register the last thirty seconds, the cogs turning in your brain. You stare at your friend like a deer in headlights as he carefully puts you down.

Surely you thought death was on the doorstep.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his gaze carefully supervising your every move.

You nod your response as you look around, allowing your heavy breathing to mellow out.

"I thought—" You start as Peter steps closer.

"I know, I know. You're okay." He reassures, and you examine him, noticing his right eye. Blood invaded around his pupil and you scan the rest of his features, the identical crimson red colour decorated his face as well as a few bruises.

You hug the boy without a second thought, and in turn he accepts. 

When Peter pulls away, you feel the word vomit take over you, and you open your mouth to say something.

Before the words you so desperately wanted to say could leave you, you glance behind Peter at the man responsible for May's death, a shiver running down your spine when as you feel a almost sinister shift in the air overtake.

Peter taking notice of your expression turns around in confusion.

It was almost uncanny, frightening and astonishing how swiftly you watch Peter's mood change from concern to instant anger. Not the typical anger someone feels, no, you could practically endure his revise. The boy looked murderous. The switch being so drastically different to the Peter you thought you knew made you question if you even knew him at all. 

This was the same Peter Parker who you believed would never hurt a fly, the same Peter Parker who did not even want to idealize the concept of murder. Yet, here he was standing in front of you with a rage so intense, you step back in fear of what was to come.

"Poor Peter. Too weak to send me home to die." The Green Goblin grin was troublesome as he spoke.

"No," You friend starts. "I just wanna kill you myself." Peter's was raspy and low with anger.

“Attaboy.” The man grinned.

Enraged, Peter rushes at the Green Goblin, and boy do they clash. Your eyes widen at the scene taking place in front of you. The spider-boy pummels him with a murderous intensity. The Goblin breaks free, releasing his arm blades and swings them at your friend. 

You gasp in horror, completely frozen. Watching such an extreme unfold before you was mind boggling, and the thoughts creeping in your head made you want to try and do something, but what could you do? Peter had the upper hand and it was brutal, so of course you were stuck in place out of fear.

Peter batters the Goblin until he's down on his knees, and unfortunately for the villain more barrage of punches given from the boy are received and the Goblin collapses to the ground, spent.

The fearsome inside of you increased and for some reason, tears threatened your eyes. You never really were a crier, but watching your best friend lay into Goblin, who took punch after punch caused unwanted emotions to course through you. You were so beyond scared at the person you swore you understood.

Observing the Goblin carefully, you don't realize your Peter grab the villain's glider, which was crashed at the base of the shield. 

He drifts towards the Goblin, murder in his eyes, lifting the glider over his head and you register the fact that he had no intentions of coming to his senses. 

Peter screams, unrelenting, about to bring the gleaming blade down on the helpless villain.

"Peter—" You cry as the much older version of himself steps in front of your Peter, a pleading look on his face, one you recognize.

Slowly, your friend snaps out of his angry, murderous intentions and relaxes. You observe the wordless understanding between the two Peter Parkers.

Shunk.

The familiar welch of skin being stabbed fills your ears, and the oldest Peter's face falls.

A grimace etches on your face, watching the Goblin stab the elder Spider-Man in the back.

The pumpkin bomb throwing villain staggers upright as his victim falls before him, clearly eager for more. He glances at you, and you take a unconscious step back, despite being at a safe distance already.

You could tell the man was taunting Peter as he looks over at him again.

"She was there because of you." The Goblin smiles, and Peter faces him, eyes narrowing.

"I may have struck the blow, but you." He laughs. "You are the one that killed her." The goblin cackles with glee at his own words.

You gaze at Peter just in time, eyeing as the second oldest version of himself throws the Goblin's cure, your Peter grabs it and briskly stabs the cackling villain in the neck. You watch the man stagger, shocked and in pain.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Goblin falls back on his haunches, then a glint of recognition settles within him.

"Peter?" Norman stares at your friend in confusion as his eyes drift down to an injured version of your Peter, and if you didn't know any better, the look on his face seemed almost remorseful.

"What have I done?" 

Eventually after all villains are cured, you step back to let your friend have his heart to heart moment with the other versions of himself. The only thing you wanted to do was search for MJ and Ned, hoping them to be okay.

However, your thought train is interrupted as your friend approaches you.

"I have a plan," Is the first thing he says to you once he's close.

"You have a plan?" You furrow your eyebrows.

Peter nods and he stares at you for a good while and he clears his throat.

"The sky—" He cuts himself off and you drag your gaze to the purple cracks in the sky as vague figures catch your attention.

"Are those..." You trail off and look at your defeated friend.

"I'm going to get Doctor Strange to cast another spell." Peter informs you and you're skeptical, but somewhere in your brain you figure it probably has something to do with getting rid of whatever was in the sky.

"Okay." You nod.

Peter sighs and shakes his head, like you were not understanding what it was he was trying to say. 

"Don't be mad."

"Why would I be mad?"

"I'm going to ask him to make everyone forget who I am." He says, and you tilt your head in confusion.

"Like the same spell you already tried?" Peter shakes his head at your question and reaches for your hands.

"No, I mean, me. Peter Parker."

You feel your heart drop to your stomach at his words. Still, not completely understanding what it is he was trying to tell you, but if it's what you think it is, you sensed an unfamiliar feeling simmer.

"But that means I would—Ned and MJ." You stare at him in disbelief as he nods.

"I know, but I have to. I can't let anything else get out of control." Peter presses his lips together as he gauges your reaction to his words.

Ultimately, he was right. With the sky purple and cracked, and unwanted figures coming through, it was way out of control. You did not want to forget your friend before you could even confess your feelings for him. But you also did not want any more consequences for him to deal with.

Forgetting him meant forgetting everything you've been through with the boy. You couldn't bare the thought of losing someone you cared so much about. You did not even want to know what it's like to not have Peter in your life, not remembering him.

"I have to find Ned and MJ, to let them know as well." Peter states and you blink back into reality and gaze at him.

It was now or never, you thought.

"I'm in love with you." You blurt and you cringe at the five words and clear your throat before he could even respond. "I just thought you should know." You shrug and confidently never break eye contact with him.

You can tell Peter is racking your words through his brain, and you fear the worst as the silence becomes more prominent.

He mutters your name and pulls a strand of hair behind your ear. You were eager for heartbreak and you knew it didn't matter what his reply would be.

"I want you to know that I feel how you feel too." Peter reassures, and you gaze at him for a long while.

He feels how you feel too.

"And I promise," Peter's eyes never leave yours as he places his hands on both sides of your face. His touch was so gentle and reassuring that whatever he said next, you would believe him.

"I promise once this is all over, I will find you, and tell you everything." 

At his words, you hug him, not wanting to let go. You think to yourself and pray his words become true. You did not want to have to live a life without Peter.

Slowly he pulls away, and gives your forehead a kiss, replacing his touch with his own instead.

"I promise." Peter whispers.

Even when something slips your mind, trust that it will find its way back to you. You remind yourself of those words as you replay his promise in your head over and over again.

You remind yourself of those words when Peter swings away to find Ned and MJ.

You remind yourself of those words as you look up into the sky, detecting something so foreign course through you. Your mind alters into a different outlet.

You couldn't remember exactly what you were reminding yourself of, the thought completely lost from your subconscious. 

taglist: @victoriousskylar @imawhoreforu @myfangirlinessononeblog @astrogirl0666

shout out to the divider account: @saradika-graphics

[george-weasleys-girl]

Heyy, could you write something where the reader is jealous? You can choose if you want to write about Fred or George

Thank you for your request! This is a long one. It really took on a life of its own. I hope you like it.

~•~

George x Fem Reader

~•~

George’s laughter carried across the store, bringing a smile to your face. You turned to see what had delighted him so much and immediately regretted it. Your heart plummeted, and sullen glower replaced your smile as you watched him chat with the bouncy, vapid woman who'd started coming into the shop at least once a week, making a beeline straight to George every time. She obviously had a thing for him, and from the looks of it, he was developing a thing for her.

You just couldn't understand why George would be even remotely attracted to her. Sure, she was pretty, but she was also dumb as a stump. You'd talked to her a few times and were convinced she had a maximum of two brain cells bouncing around in her skull, one of which was solely responsible for keeping her alive.

You looked back up to see George, smiling wide, enraptured by whatever nonsense she was babbling as she twirled her precious little curls around her index finger.

Wiping away the tears from your eyes, you went back to stocking the Canary Creams, slamming them down on the display, startling the elderly lady perusing the shelf next to you.

"Sorry, ma'am," you apologized. "Rough day." The woman huffed and shook her head before scurrying off to the other side of the store.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging in defeat. You knew you had no right to be jealous. George was your boss, not your boyfriend. He could flirt with whoever the hell he wants. If your heart got broken in the process, it was your own damn fault for falling for him.

~•~

George watched as you tidied up a display of Fainting Fancies. When he hired you two years ago, he was exhausted and frazzled and was looking for people who could learn the ropes quickly and help out in the newly reopened shop until Fred recovered from the spinal injury he'd gotten during the Battle of Hogwarts.

In no time, you were all but running the store, allowing him to spend more time with his twin. He was eternally grateful, but it wasn't until around six months later that he saw you as anything more than a valued employee.

At that point, Fred had started working for a couple of hours a day. But he was still fragile, and one afternoon, he lost his balance and fell. You did two things that day that endeared you to George forever. While he ran to help Fred, you somehow managed to keep both the customers and other employees away from the area, saving Fred from the embarrassment of being seen sprawled out on the floor.

Then, after spending several hours at the hospital, followed by the difficult task of getting a very stubborn and very grumpy Fred settled into bed, George wanted nothing more than to just fall flat on his face in bed, or on the couch or even the floor. All three sounded equally appealing. But he couldn't. Fred needed to eat, and he probably should, too.

He'd just decided to use magic to whip up some chicken fingers and french fries when someone knocked on the door, causing a confused look to cross his face. It couldn't be one of the employees. The shop had long since closed, and everybody had gone home. And he knew it wouldn't be his mum. Fred had made him promise not to tell the family he'd fallen. He didn't want them "worrying over nothing."

George opened up the door to find you standing there with a huge bowl of spaghetti and some freshly baked garlic bread. "Hey," you said a little shyly. "I figured you'd probably be exhausted when you got home, so I thought I'd make dinner for you and Fred. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" A massive smile replaced the confusion on George's face. "No, I don't mind at all, come in!" He opened the door wider. "You are an absolute angel for doing this. How did you know we were home?"

"I didn't," you replied. "But I still have the flat key you gave me, so I could check in on Fred when you got wrapped up with customers. I thought I'd just leave it on the counter with a spell cast to keep it nice and hot."

For a moment, George looked like he might cry, but then he smiled again. "Would you like to join us for dinner? Well, really me. Fred will take his dinner in bed."

"Well, I've already eaten," you said, watching his face fall. "But I can never turn down a slice of garlic bread."

"Ok, great!" He replied. "Just let me get Fred set up."

You smiled. "Shall I get him a plate together?"

"Thank you! That would be wonderful," George said as he hurried into Fred's bedroom.

That was the night George Weasley fell in love with you.

~•~

You managed to make it through the rest of the morning without breaking down. By the time your lunch break rolled around, you had reigned your emotions back under control.

You sat outside on the little patio behind the shop, nibbling on your sandwich and mulling over the situation. You'd never intended to fall in love with George. In fact, you'd never intended to work at the joke shop at all. You'd taken the job out of sheer desperation.

While at Hogwarts, you discovered you had a knack for healing, and since you didn't have a clue what you wanted to do after graduation, training as a healer seemed just as good as anything else. As it turned out, you grew to love the work, and for a while, you couldn't imagine doing anything else.

And then the war happened.

You didn't know if it was because you weren't cut out for the raw intensity of being a healer or if it was watching helplessly as people you knew and loved died all around you. Either way, the war broke you.

The very thought of continuing on as healer sent you into paralyzing panic attacks. So, you packed up and moved in with your muggle sister. For the first few months, you carried your weight by doing all the cleaning and cooking and taking on any other chores that needed doing.

It worked well for a while, but your sister didn't have a great paying job, and it soon became evident that you'd need to pitch in financially. You'd hoped to find something in the magical world, but the prospects weren't promising. Most of the business owners had taken to the hills after the return of Voldemort. And, though they were now returning, many of them barely had the means left to restart their business, never mind hiring on help.

The outlook was so bleak that you were beginning to think that working in the muggle world was your only option. Then, one morning, you spied a Help Wanted ad in the Daily Prophet. Within a week, you were working at the infamous Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Then, within a couple of months, you'd become George's right-hand woman, taking on the lion's share of running the shop so he could take care of Fred.

Soon after, George found out you had healing experience and started asking you for advice. Eventually, you were going upstairs to help. More often than not, it was to convince Fred to do something. Or not do something.

"He won't listen to me," George would say. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

That's when your feelings for George began to develop. During those early days, watching him care for his brother with such patience and gentleness, even when Fred was at his worst, won you over.

"I don't need your fucking help!" Fred would yell.

"I know," George would calmly say, "but the healers said you could reverse some of your progress if you try to stand on your own right now. You don't want to end up back in the hospital, do you?"

"No," Fred would huff.

"Good. Now, put your arm around my shoulders so we can get you in your wheelchair."

And now, here you were. Madly in love with a man who'd never feel the same. Who was now falling in love with someone you were certain didn't deserve him or could make him happy. You rolled your eyes. So much for keeping your emotions in check. You balled up what was left of your sandwich and hurled it into the nearby waste bin and then preceded to stomp from one end of the patio to the other, your hands balled into tight fists, until your break was over.

~•~

"Mate, I know you like her," Fred spoke as he and George finished up some paperwork in the office.

"I more than like her, Freddie, but I'm her boss for Godric's sake. I can't just start dating an employee."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?" George stared at his twin. "For one, it's unprofessional, and two, what if it doesn't work out? It would make everything weird."

Fred sighed. "You have a limited time to ask her out. She might quit or meet someone else, and then where will you be?"

George remained silent for a long while, chewing on his thumbnail. "Maybe you're right," he said finally.

"Of course I'm right," Fred smirked. "So, are you going to do it?"

"Yeah," George half-grinned. "I'm gonna ask her out."

~•~

You'd finished up with your closing duties and headed upstairs to see if George or Fred needed you to do anything else before you left.

Their office door was open, just a crack. You lifted your hand to knock when you heard Fred's cheeky voice. "Of course I'm right. So are you gonna do it?"

"Yeah," George answered. "I'm gonna ask her out."

It was if someone had punched you in the gut. George was going to ask Miss Vapid out. You clamped your mouth over your hand to cover the sob that fell from your lips unbidden and backed away from the door as quietly as possible. As soon as you were out of earshot, you turned and fled the shop.

~•~

"Did she just leave?" George made one more turn around the store. "Without saying anything?"

"That's not like her," Fred said.

"No. It isn't," George raked his fingers through his hair. "I hope everything's alright."

~•~

You barely slept that night, and when you did, your dreams were plagued with images of George laughing with his soon to be girlfriend, holding her hand, kissing her. You'd wake up in tears, followed by another hour of tossing and turning, before dozing back off and starting the whole vicious cycle over again.

When the sun finally crested the horizon, you drug yourself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Luckily, today was your day off, and you fully intended to start it off right. With a glass of wine or two or maybe ten. You were exhausted, sore, and heartsick, and you just didn't want to feel anymore.

You'd just finished off your second glass when someone knocked on the door. You rolled your eyes. Who the hell is here, ruining my perfectly good pity party at... you looked down at your watch, the fucking ass-crack of dawn?

~•~

George spent the night pacing from one end of the apartment to the other.

Why would you just leave like that?

Were you feeling ill?

Or did something happen yesterday?

Did he or Fred say something stupid and hurt your feelings?

Why didn't you just come and talk to him if that was the case?

He'd almost sent you an owl at least 782 times last night, but chickened out every time. And of course, today was your day off. So that meant he'd spend the next twenty-four hours worrying himself sick over you.

"George, have you slept at all?" Fred shuffled out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No."

Fred sighed and went to put on a pot of coffee. "Why don't you just go and talk to her?"

"Don't you think that'd be a bit weird. Me, her boss, showing up on her doorstep at 7am, wondering why she left work without saying goodbye."

"At this point, Georgie, who the fuck cares? You're going to make yourself physically ill if you don't find out what's going on."

George rubbed a hand over his face. "Ok. Yeah. You're right. But I need about a gallon of coffee first."

Fred opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a thermos. "Take it with you, mate."

~•~

You swung the door open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, and froze when you saw George standing there. He looked exactly like you felt. Good thing he's not flying anywhere, your tipsy self thought briefly. He'd have to check in the bags under his eyes before they'd let him on the plane.

"Why are you here?" The words came out sharper than you intended it, causing George to take a step back.

"I, um, I was worried about you," he fumbled. "You left without saying goodbye yesterday."

"You're here at seven in the morning because I didn't say goodbye?"

"Well, yeah... that's not like you. At all. I was worried something had happened yesterday."

Worried something had happened yesterday? You almost laughed in his face. "Come on in," you said. "I'm gonna need another glass of wine for this one. Want one?"

George followed you into the living room. "Love...why are you drinking? How much have you had?"

You shrugged and upended your glass and then wiped your mouth on your sleeve. "Why do you care? I can do what I want in my free time. You're just my boss. It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything."

He visibly flinched at the last comment, but at this point, you didn't care.

"I really am worried. Something happened yesterday. Please tell me what it was. I want to help."

This time, you did laugh. "You really wanna know what happened yesterday? I realized that I'm a fucking idiot. That's what happened yesterday."

"I - I don't understand," George searched her eyes for any clues.

"No, of course you wouldn't. And it's not your fault. Not really. And I shouldn't be angry with you, but I am," you rambled. "It's my own fault for being stupid. And I'm gonna keep being stupid as long as I'm working there. So, yeah, I'm giving you my two week notice."

"What?! How we go from you saying you're stupid to you quitting?"

"It doesn't matter." You reached for the wine bottle, but George grabbed it first and moved it out of your reach.

"Hey!" You tried to grab it back, but he stood, took it to the kitchen, and emptied the rest of it into the sink.

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"Because you're done with it," George tossed the empty bottle in the trash. "And we're going to work through whatever the fuck this is."

You sighed. "There's nothing to work through. I'm quitting, and that's that."

"No." George said simply.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not letting you quit."

"As if you have a choice in the matter," you said. "Why do you care anyway? You'll find someone to replace me easily enough. Probably someone who's better than me."

"No," George repeated. "No one can replace you. There's no one better than you."

You shook your head and stood, turning away from him. "Not even your new girlfriend," you muttered under your breath.

"My new girl - what are you talking about?"

Shit. You didn't mean for him to hear that.

"What new girlfriend?" He asked again.

Something about the way he said it, with such shock and indignation, as if he had no idea what you were talking about, set you off, and you rounded on him. "Mindy or Wendy or whatever the fuck her name is!"

He looked genuinely confused for a moment, and then realization hit. "You mean Cindy? Cindy Fletcher? Why in Godric's name would I want to date her?"

"I don't know," you threw your hands in the air. "You tell me. You were all up in her face yesterday, hanging on to her every word."

"She was telling me about her muggle cousins new invention, and it sounded really cool and - " George paused. "Wait, why do you care so much who I talk to?"

"I - I don't," you stammered. "Just forget it. Just forget I said anything at all."

"Are you - jealous?"

You turned your back to him again. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You are, aren't you?" There was surprise in his voice and something else you couldn't quite place.

He moved to stand before you. "Do you," he hesitated for a moment. "Like me? Like as more than just your boss or your friend?"

The tears you'd been fighting to hold back poured down your cheeks. There was no denying it now. "Yes, I like you! Ok? I more than like you. But you're my boss - "

George pulled you into his arms, silencing you with a kiss. Your first instinct to anyone kissing you unexpectedly was to push them away. But then it dawned on you what was happening. Did George like you back? Apparently so, otherwise he wouldn't be kissing you right now. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

~•~

"I've been wanting to do that for ages," George confessed. You were cuddled on the sofa, refusing to let go of one another.

"Me too," you smiled. "Why did you never say anything?"

George shrugged. "I'm your boss. It would've been inappropriate. And what if things didn't work out? Talk about awkward. Us trying to work together."

"Hm," you nodded. "So does that mean I should still quit?"

"If it means I can keep kissing you like that, I'll fire you right now."

You giggled. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Good," he said. "The place would fall apart without you."

"Pfft, don't be silly," you scoffed.

George pulled back a little so he could look at your face. "I'm not. I'm being dead serious. The shop would fall apart without you. And so would I."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the only thing that came out were the words you'd been holding back for so long. "I love you, George Weasley."

His smile melted your heart. "I love you, too," he said and pulled you in for another kiss.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @smallsweetvanillabean @themaraudersslut @hanne-montana

[samwinchesterswifu]

Linger pt 2 (Sam Winchester x Reader Angst) (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)

Season 4 x Episode 22 - Lucifer Rising

Song Inspo: "Linger" by The Cranberries & "Magic Man" by Heart

Warnings: uh smut, p in v (wrap it up), uhm really fucking emotional? Uses of she/her prounouns and women body parts <3

MINORS DNI

A/N: holy. fucking. shit. this is my LONGEST fan fic EVER. im so damn proud of myself. Only took me 2 days to write. Now this isnt an exact episode re-write but there are like 3 scenes from the episode in here and I tried to change up the dialog a little bit so it wasnt exactly copy paste. I truly do love this story. please dont be mad at me lol. but uh yeah more than likely pt 3 coming soon.

Word Count: 3.767k

Summary: Sam goes off with Ruby to stop the seals from breaking, what can she do in the mean time?

She sits on the edge of  Bobby’s couch. Her left foot tapping away as she begins to chew her fingers in anticipation. Dean had found him, and instead of her coming along with him, Dean felt it was best for her to stay behind incase things got out of control. The old farm house was deafeningly quiet. Bobby had gone off to calm down after recovering from the shot-gun hit, leaving her alone. It must’ve been around two, or three am but she didn’t care. Sleep was a second thought. What felt like years swimming in her own personal hell, the familiar roar of the Impala pulls into the graveled drive finally separating from her thoughts. She rises from her position and makes her way outside. As she opens the door, Dean is climbing out of the Impala. A serge of panic rises through her once seeing his beat up face. She races down the steps grabbing onto his chin to inspect. Dean groans at the contact.

“What the hell happened?” She asked sternly.

“We got into it.” Dean states rolling his eyes as she continued to examine.

“No shit,” she replies, a snicker sharp on her tongue.

 Dean grabs a hold of her wrist stopping her from further jerking his head back and forth. He sighs and locks eyes with her.

“What Dean?” She asks bluntly annoyed by his grasp.

“He was with Ruby.” Dean states as his eyes shift to an apologetic glow underneath the tall street light that loomed over them.

“Figures,” she scoffs, breaking away from Dean’s grip.

She takes a step back from him, wiping her palms against the rough fabric of her jeans.

“I told him not to come back.” Dean spats out.

Her head shoots up to look at him.

“You did WHAT?” She exclaims. Her fists clench, wanting so badly to add to the poor guys face.

“You heard me.” Dean states, arms crossing over his chest.

“You can’t just make that decision for the both of us!” She screams, and pushes him sharply, enough for him to stumble.

“Well I did! You listen to me, he’s not good for you, I’m so sick and tired of watching you be drunk off him when all he does is treat you like shit!” Dean yells at her. Leaving her completely dumbfounded.

“And what gives you the fucking authority to make that decision for me huh?” She raises her voice to match his, stepping toe-to-toe, staring him down.

In a split second, Dean’s hands where cuffing her cheeks and he brings her in for a searing kiss. His lips where sweet but salty, the faint taste of copper mixing in, presumably from the cut on his bottom lip. After a few seconds, she realizes that she was in fact kissing Dean and pulls away. Her hands rested on his shoulders. She looks at him completely shocked. But deep down, she liked it. It was nice to finally have some sort of human connection. At this point, she wasn’t sure if Sam would ever be back in her life and if he would love her enough to be with her. Weighing her options, she reconnects her lips to Deans.

They battle for dominance, teeth clashing as she plays with the hair on the nape of his neck. Dean groans as she tugs on his strands. His sounds leaving her breathless and needy. Dean breaks contact and begins to travel kisses across her cheek, and down her neck. Nibbling harshly at a spot below her ear that made her squirm. His hands traveled down her sides and he taps the curve underneath her ass. Realizing his signal, she jumps. Wrapping her legs tightly against his waist as he holds her steady. Dean reconnects their lips as he begins to walk. But not towards the house. She breaks contact for a brief moment to see where he was headed. He was headed towards the shop.

She locks eyes with Dean. Her gut screaming about whether or not this was the right decision. In this moment, she truly didn’t care. In this moment, Dean seemed like the perfect treat. His features shined against the moonlight and his green eyes were electrified. Her head was spinning by the power Dean seemed to hold at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, Dean could take care of her, treat her right. And that maybe was what she held on to.

She reconnects their lips as they enter the shop. Dean holds her with one arm as he pushes the shop door partially closed. Never once breaking their kiss. He walks her over to shop couch, pushing off the blanket that laid on the seat and some wrenches. They break away as he lays her down. Quickly discarding his shirt on the floor in the process. She does the same and Dean just stares at her.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Taking in her glow. Bobby had left on one of the lamps that were hanging over one of the current cars on the jacks. It was just enough light for them to see each other.

Dean dips down, pulling her breast into his mouth. His mouth was warm and inviting. Moaning at the contact that she didn’t even know she craved. His right hand engulfed her right breast as his tongue played with her left nipple. She squirms against him as soft mewls of pleasure leave her lips. After he seems satisfied with himself, he leans back from her chest. Dean toys with the button of her jeans, after struggling for a bit, he pulls them off gracefully. Groaning at the sight in front of him.

“I don’t know how anyone can pass you up,” he says licking his lips.

A deep blush forms across her cheeks. Its been so long hearing any sort of praise and her soul was being replenished.

As Dean starts to fumble with his belt, she reaches up to help him. Unzipping his jeans, she pushes down his boxers to find him fully erect. She expected Dean to have some length to him, but fuck was he girthy. She wraps her hand around him, slowly pumping. Dean dips his head back in pleasure. She picks up her pace, wiping the pre-cum from his tip to help with the friction. A moan leaves Dean’s lips as she does this and the heat in her core becomes unbearable. She stops, and Dean looks at her completely blissed out from just the slightest touch.

Dean looks at her as if to ask she was okay with this, and if she was ready. She nods and Dean takes a quick moment to kick off his jeans. He places himself back in between her legs and pushes aside her underwear. Dean grabs on to her hips and aligns himself with her. She grabs onto his bicep as he begins to push inside. Both of them seething at the contact. Her grip tightens as he stretches her earning a groan from the man. Dean is slow with it, inching closer and closer until he was completely inside. Both of them moaning at the feeling. She felt so full that it was making her dizzy.

Once allowing her a few moments to adjust to his length, Dean unleashes a brutal attack. His thrust start off fast and hard. Her moans fill up the shop and she prayed that no one was outside to hear her. Dean was a god, he moved exactly the right away and kept his pace steadily. Her first orgasm came within minutes. The second one falling behind shortly after.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking, goo-“ Dean grunts. Being cut off with his own thrust.

The opposite hand from holding himself steady rose and grasped around her throat. This fucking man knew how to choke someone. The pressure from his grasp makes her third orgasm more violent than the first. Her moans turned into screams as he just continued on his attack.  A fourth and fifth orgasm rippled through her bones. Her eyes swelled with tears at the immense amount of pleasure she was being supplied.

However, Dean’s thrust became more and more unstable. He was close and she wanted to milk every last drop out of him.

“Cum in me, please,” she grasps out in between moans.

Dean looks at her bewildered by her request but nods.

“Okay, okay, fuck-“ Dean thrusts a few more times before he fills her up completely. His orgasm bringing on her final one at the same time.

Both of them sit there for a moment, Dean was still inside of her as they catch their breaths. Their eyes lock for a moment and both let out a small laugh. Dean slowly pulls out of her, both moaning at the loss of contact. Dean takes a moment before grabbing his and her pants from the floor tossing them to her. Slipping them on, she grabs her discarded shirt and throws it back on as Dean does the same. She was completely wiped by this point. She yawns, and Dean takes note of it. Grabbing the shop blanket that was thrown about, he motions behind her. Surprised by his actions, she allows Dean to settle behind her as he throws the shop blanket across them. He stretches out his right arm to allow her to use it as a pillow as his left arm lays across her waist. She snuggles close to him and starts to drift to sleep feeling protected.

The morning sun peaks through the crack of the shop door, shining just right to stir her from slumber. She blinks her eyes open, looking around to figure out her surroundings as last night’s memories play back. She notices that Dean was no longer behind her and no where in the shop to be found. She sighs, tossing the shop blanket to the side and makes her way back towards the house, seeing Bobby’s car back in the drive. She groans at the thought of having to explain herself to Bobby. But as she gets closer to the house she can hear yelling from inside.

“Don’t make me get my gun boy,” Bobby’s voice of retribution laces through the hallways as she makes her way inside. It was unsettling to hear Bobby stern.

“We are damn near kick off for Armageddon, don’t you think we got bigger fish to fry?” she can hear Dean state from the living room as she makes her presence known. Both men looking towards her as she does so.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bobby asks sternly, arms crossing over his chest.

“I, uh-“ she stutters, pointing towards the door, unsure of how to explain she fell asleep in the shop.

Dean looks up at her innocently, shaking his head as if to say to not say a damn word.

“Never mind.” Bobby huffs.

She gulps, her throat stuffed with anxiety.

“I know you’re pissed, and I’m not making apologies for what he’s done, but he’s your-“

“Blood? He’s my blood, is that what you’re gunna say?” Dean cuts Bobby and he sighs in response.

“He’s your brother.” Bobby states,

“And he’s drowning,” the old man sighs looking between the both of them. Nodding his head towards Dean’s direction to try to get her to weigh in on the situation.

“Maybe Bobbys right Dean, he needs our help.” She chimes in, a groan leaving Dean’s lips at her response.

“I tried to help him Y/N, I already did.” Dean replies.

“So try again.” Bobby rebuttals. However he takes notes of how uneasy Dean had became once she entered the house.

“Did something happen between you two?” Bobby asks, looking at Dean. Dean shoots her a panicked look as Bobby shoots a glare towards her.

“No, no- we’re fine,” she comments. Bobby makes a soft “uh huh” under his breath clearly not believing them.

“it’s too late-“ Dean states as he strides towards the stair case.

“There’s no such thing,” Bobby says trying any way he can to get Dean to calm down.

“No, damn it!” Dean shouts. He was evidently annoyed by this whole conversation.

“No.” He sighs, the man was stubborn  she’d give him that.

“Look, we got to face the facts. Sam never wanted to be apart of this family. He hated our life growing up. Ran away to school first chance he got. Now it’s like Déjà VU all over again.” Dean shifts on the edge of his heels as he leans down to sit on the couch behind him.

“Well I am sick and tired of chasing after him, you should be too.” Dean pauses, point directly at her.

“Screw him, he can do what he wants.” Dean sneers.

“You don’t mean that-“ Bobby starts before getting cut off again by Dean.

“Yes I do Bobby,” he sighs. “Sammy’s gone.”

“I’m not even sure if he’s still my brother anymore. If ever was,” Dean’s voice cracks at the pain. A deep look forms over his eyes, a sad one. It hurt her to see him so distraught over Sam, because she was too.

Bobby pushes himself off his desk, pacing back and forth before suddenly throwing everything off of it.

“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch!” Bobby yells and Dean rises to meet him. She backs away from them honestly a bit scared from the interaction.

“Well boohoo! I am so sorry your feelings are hurt princess! Are you under the impression that family supposed to make you feel good? Bake you an apple pie maybe? They’re supposed to make you miserable! That’s why they’re family!” Bobby screams, stomping his foot in frustration.

“I told him that if he walked out that door to not come back, and that’s what he did Bobby!” Dean yells back, walking past him as his fist clenches.

“You sound like a brat-“ Bobby mocking in his response.

“No,” Dean whispers coming near her, and his back facing Bobby. Unsure of how to comfort him in the moment.

“You sound like John. Well let me tell you something, John was a coward.” Bobby states.

“You are a better man than your daddy ever was.” Bobby replies, Dean snickers in bewilderment.  

“Don’t be him.” Bobby’s words cut through her. Growing up around John Winchester taught her a lot about how not to be a family and she was starting to regret pushing Sam away.

She could see Dean thinking, and he looks to her with pleading eyes begging for help in those moment. She shook her head, and dean scoffed again turning to face Bobby when suddenly he was gone.

“Dean?!” She screeches, her voice cracking in the process. Both her and Bobby looking frantically around the house.

“Oh, balls!” Bobby yells, kicking the side of his desk.

But just as suddenly Dean disappeared, Castiel stood before her.

“Hello Y/N,” Castiel greets her, looking towards Bobby giving him a nod.

“Where the hell is Dean Castiel!” She asks ready to take on the angel in front of her.

“We have him, it’s almost time.” Castiel bluntly replies.

“We? You mean the angels have him?” She asks a new wave of panic sifts through her blood stream.

“Yes, we have him, don’t worry he’s safe.” Castiel states. Before she could respond Castiel was gone again.

She screams in frustration, grabbing the nearest book and tossing it in the direction where the angel once stood.

“Here,” Bobby says tapping her shoulder and handing her a glass of whiskey.

“Thanks,” she responds. Taking in a heaping swig to off set her nerves.

Setting down the cup, she lays down on the closest couch stretching her legs out and sighing at todays events.

“So, what happened between you two?” Bobby asks again this time really letting on that he needed to know.

“I did something stupid Bobby.” She replies reaching over to the cup of whiskey taking another sip before continuing.

“Dean and I slept together.” She blurts out. Groaning at the thought of last night.

“You did what?” Bobby asks, a sliver of disbelief hanging on his tongue.

“Yeah, last night, in your- in your shop.” She grunts out. Letting out another huff in embarrassment.

“You stupid stupid girl! Seriously! Dean of ALL people?” Bobby yells making her jump at his sudden voice raise.

“I know Bobby-“ She starts before getting cut off.

“I don’t think you understand woman, if Sam finds and he will, he’s gunna be pissed.” Bobby snickers taking back the cup that he had previously handed to her. A quick ‘hey!’ at his action leaves her lips.

“What were you thinking?” Bobby sighs shaking his head at her.

“I was upset too Bobby, Sam’s made it evident that he doesn’t want to be with me.” She shrugs. Completely drained by everything that’s happened over the last 48 hours.

“He does want to be with you, you idjit.” Bobby tells her bluntly. Almost as if they were repeating the same conversation as before, but centered on her this time.

“No he doesn’t Bobby,” she responds, tears choking up her words as she fight back all the hurt she experienced because of the youngest Winchester.

“Yes he does Y/N, that kid is so madly in love with you he’s doing all of this for you- to give you a better world, I know his actions doesn’t seem it but that’s what he doing kiddo, for you.” Bobby says, handing her back the previously taken whiskey glass.

She lays there silently for a moment before taking another sip of the glass. She doesn’t respond to Bobby before sitting up and pushing her self off the couch. Grabbing her cellphone that laid on the side table, she makes her way outside. She walks around to the shop to get some privacy incase Bobby came looking.

Taking a deep breath, she calls Sam’s cellphone. After a few rings its sent to voice mail where she hesitates for a quick moment of what she was going to say.

“Sammy,” she starts, taking another deep breath before continuing.

“You don’t have to do this. Come back to Bobby’s please, we’ll figure out another way, you and me, come back to me, please. My sweet boy please, just come back to me.” She finishes the phone call.

Her heart ached, frustrated and annoyed with herself. How could she be so stupid and go behind Sam’s back like that? The sun was almost rested in the sky at this point in the evening, the moon peaking over the tower of cars that laid in the salvage yard. She decides to go back inside, wanting to distract herself with cooking something at the very least.

But as she turns around to start her way back, she is met with Castiel and Dean in front of her. Dean tries to say something before Castiel is grabbing her and before she can protest they were standing in front of the prophet Chuck.

“God damn it Cas!” She yells, stumbling, and trying to catch her balance.

“Oh this isn’t supposed to be happening-“ Chuck says while simultaneously on the phone.

“No- lady this is definitely supposed to be happening, but I uh, I gotta call you back.” Chuck says to the woman on the phone before disconnecting the call.

“St. Marys? What is that a convent?” Dean asks reading over the newly written Supernatural Script.

“Yeah but-but you guys aren’t supposed to be there.” Chuck responds. “You’re not in this story,” he finishes, completely flustered by their arrival.

“We’re making it up as we go.” Cas states. Dean looks between the angel and her, also confused by the angels actions. She shrugs at his glance.

Then, the familiar sound of angel static and bright lights fill the room.

“Oh no not this again!” Chuck groans, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“It’s the archangel!” Castiel screams over the sound.  A wave of panic flushes Dean’s features and he looks like he is a bout to pass out from the sheer rush of adrenaline.

“I’ll hold them off, just stop Sam!” Castiel yells, looking between her and Dean.

Touching both of them at the same time, they’re transported to a new location. Dean takes a moment to look around to realize that they’re at the convent. He grabs a hold of her hand and starts to walk down the hallway in front of them. The round a corner to find Sam and Ruby in the main chapel room with Lilith on  the ground. Ruby turns to look at the two and smirks. A deep scrawl forms on both of their faces, preparing to kill the demon bitch. With a flick of her wrist, Ruby closes the door on them.

Rushing to the door way, they both start to bang on the old wooden doors. Yelling his name at the top of their lungs. She pushes Dean out of the way and uses her whole body weight against the door to try to pry it open. She was desperate at this point, tears threatened to break loose from her lashes. Wanting nothing more than to save him.

“Move!” Dean yells. Turning around she see’s him holding a statue and she grabs a hold of it. The two of them ram the door open and Ruby turns to face them.  

Grabbing the demon knife from Dean’s pocket she strides towards Ruby.

“You’re too late.” Ruby laughs.

“I don’t care,” she snickers back.

Sam stands up quickly, grabbing a hold of  Rubys arms as she makes the final blow. Twisting the knife to make sure she was truly dead. Ruby starts to flash out, and sick smile forms on her lips as she watches.

Ruby finally drops dead and Sam pushes Ruby to the side. Sam takes a moment to look at her, and Dean before resting on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Sam chokes out.

He takes a step forward and his hands come to cuff her cheeks, bringing her in for a quick kiss. The ground beings to rumble as a bright light shoots from the center. This throws off their balance making her fall into Sam. Dean looks between the two of them, his words stuck on his throat unsure of what to say. They all three turn to look at the hole that was beginning to form. Dean grabs onto both of them frantically.

“Y/N, Sammy, lets go-“ Dean spats out. Sam grabs on to Dean, staring down the light.

“Dean?” Sammy asks and Dean looks to him concerned.

Sam chokes on broken tears.

“He’s coming-“