#but anyways uh yeah the zombies are happy to see you and it's an aching parallel to the way i would write zombie apocalypse

[a-url-that-exists]

and is it just the joy of finally finding prey? Or is it something else, too? Is it some sense of connection to the humanity they lost? Do they see you as a potential new friend? Some vestiges of humanity's need for friends, family, a social group. When you see your sister smiling at you, can you almost pretend it's because she's happy to see you again, rather than happy to find another Living person to devour? When they mumble as they walk towards you, can you hear them trying (and likely failing) to say "hi", "hello"?

Imagine how much scarier zombie movies would be if the zombies smiled when they saw you because they were excited to finally eat. Imagine walking into a building to go and find shelter, scavenge, whatever, and you shine your flashlight into a room only to find several zombies idling there. Your light catches their eyes and they turn to look at you, their expressions desolate and empty. However, the moment they spot you, their open mouths turn to wide uncontrollable smiles and their eyes disappear into slits. They almost look friendly. Maybe even some of them manage to laugh instead of groan. How would you feel after months and months of losing people you know to smiling hoards? How would you feel after every encounter with a joyful zombie leaves you shaken and tired and fearful? How would you feel after hearing the sounds of laughter mixed in with the sounds of screaming and flesh being torn? After everything, what would your brain's wiring process do to you when you see a friend smile? Would you hate smiling? Would you feel rage? Would your brain devolve back into a time where showing one's teeth always meant a threat? What would you do if the joy of the human race was now only kept by the dead

[shushiyuii]

Oh my beloved that was very pog-

Gib another part for the zombie apocalypse one pwease :3?

Anything for my Dear Smoggy, Love you!

if you wish for a part three you may, but you're gonna have to give me an idea :3

Warnings: Zombies (Which will contain death and some heavy subjects, be warned), Soft vore.

Words: 1.7K+

It was obvious that the growl wasn’t human, the tone sounded so inhuman that it scared Tommy, not only that but his eyes, they screamed pure anger. Despite the small time of knowing Wilbur, he’d honestly grown quite attached to the man fairly quickly. Wilbur being the only one to treat him with proper kindness since the outbreak.

Three months without anybody he loved, three months of torture, three months without touch…

He didn’t love Wilbur but, he believed he could. He knew no ordinary survivor would protect him like Wilbur was now, so it made him think. ‘Maybe Wilbur grew attached too?’.

…

Wilbur’s mind was fuelled by panic, he couldn’t think straight. His urges are too strong. Hunger demanding satisfaction. But not for humans. For the deaths of the zombies, his mind screamed at him to protect the boy.

He didn’t know how he had grown so attached, perhaps it was that he was lonely for so long? He felt pity for the boy. He couldn’t be sure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, what emotion was screaming at him. He just knew that whatever was left of his lungs breathed with anger and his ‘heart’ raced.

…

“STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled and pushed Tommy behind him, “What are you doing?! Are you trying to get killed?!” Tommy yelled at the top of his lungs. What on earth was this idiot trying to get killed?!

“I’M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!”. Wilbur’s voice was no longer that soft and soothing voice, rather a distorted, alien-like voice. As if a drainpipe was trying to talk. Wilbur took a step back as the zombies came in closer to them.

“Tommy, get to the back end to the alley. Now!”. Wilbur’s voice was desperate. Tommy ran to the back as fast as possible, his lungs screaming and his chest aching, tears stung his eyes. He was scared, he didn’t know what to do. There was no way out of the alley, and they were surrounded.

The sounds of the zombies gave him a headache, what was he supposed to do?! He couldn’t do anything; he wouldn’t even be here right now if Wilbur hadn’t saved him.

…

Wilbur let out a monstrous roar, angering the zombies further into attacking the two, Tommy screamed at him to get back, Wilbur could hear the teenager’s fear for their safety. It scared Wilbur to hear such a tone from a normally happy kid.

It was probably apparent to Tommy by now that he wasn’t inheritably normal, but Tommy still reached out to him. So, the kid had grown attached himself, the hard and closed off one of the two had grown attached.

The kid had been lonely, scared. Without anybody but himself to care about. Wilbur couldn’t really blame him for such things. He was just a kid after all.

…

Tommy stared in horror as Wilbur let out a monstrous roar, he yelled out. He was scared, he didn’t know what was going to happen or what the fuck was going on…

And that fear only increased and Wilbur fell to the ground on his knees.

…

His knees gave out from under him as he fell to the ground in pain, his muscles ached. He couldn’t say it was hell though, he’d grown used to it after a while of doing so.

He noticed his once human-looking hands quickly turning into sharp claws, sharp enough to tear through flesh. Normal teeth turning too sharp like canines, one bite sharp enough to easily kill. His size grew.

…

Tommy didn’t know how much emotion he could handle in a day, but he was sure he was way past his limits, if he wasn’t horrified before he definitely was now. Wilbur once a normal size, turned gigantic. As tall as the buildings.

He could see his teeth, claws. His beanie had fallen off during his transformation, exposing the part of his head where he had an exposed skull. It was obvious to Tommy now, how Wilbur easily evaded those Zombies, the puzzle pieces fitting together. He was a Zombie himself.

As much as his mind screamed to hide from Wilbur, he knew it was a death wish. Not only that but if Wilbur was capable of communication and compassion. He wasn’t a normal Zombie or the fact that he had mentioned he was trying to protect Tommy.

So, Tommy had befriended a Zombie, funny.

…

Wilbur turned to look back at Tommy, he could see the pure fear in the boy’s eyes. He wanted to apologize for scaring him but there wasn’t much Wilbur could do at the current moment. He needed to quickly keep them safe.

He knelt down over to Tommy, the boy stepped back on instinct. He reached out his claw, carefully embracing Tommy in a fist, giving a small squeeze to reassure the boy but all he got were his screams and cries.

Wilbur felt the Zombies trying to crawl onto his legs, he stood up and immediately stomped down, killing whatever Zombies were once there. Tommy screamed again in fear, he brought the boy to his chest protectively. Hoping that this was enough to comfort the boy for a minute as he continued to destroy them.

…

There were way too many Zombies than Wilbur expected, every Stomp only brought, even more, to deal with, it was getting annoying. Every growl just made Tommy cling to his chest further than before, he wanted nothing but to comfort the boy, but his focus was just on killing and killing.

He realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to win this battle as the Zombies kept on increasing. His instinct screamed at him to roar but he held back that instinct, for Tommy and for the case of not luring anymore Zombies than he already had.

As his mind raced for a plan, he came to a conclusion.

Run.

He ran past the Zombies, the ground shaking under him with every step. Rubble of buildings falling as he passed. Normally he was careful, but he had nothing to lose, besides the small human currently in his arms.

He was probably halfway across the city when he finally got away from the Zombies. The boy in his arms crying his heart out. Once he realized, they were safe, he stopped. Taking a second to finally breathe after everything that had happened.

He scanned around for Zombies and found none so he finally sat down, his body slumping against the building behind him, it was uncomfortable, but it would do as he was tired as hell.

…

Tommy stopped crying as the loud sounds had stopped somewhat, he didn’t realize how tightly he had clung onto Wilbur. All he could hear were the sounds of birds and Wilbur’s breathes, maybe even a heartbeat?

After a moment, he let go of the hold he had on Wilbur’s clothes and looked back at the claws holding him. He could tell they were sharp, Wilbur could just easily kill him, but he didn’t, and the fact he was being held in a way that the claws would bring no harm to him.

He looked up at Wilbur, whose eyes were closed. But it was obvious to Tommy he was still awake, you had to be during an apocalypse and especially what had just happened.

…

“W-Wilbur?”, his eyes opened to look down at the boy in his claw, Tommy seemed to shrink down at the sight of his eyes, he couldn’t blame the boy for being scared. “Yes Tommy?”, his voice still distorted but softer and calmer.

“A-Are you a Zombie?”. Tommy shrunk back even further into his hand. Wilbur took in a deep breath and after a moment answered. “Yeah, I am. A weird one at that”.

Tommy’s face turned to slight curiosity, “H-how’d you become one?”, “Dunno, I don’t remember.”. “How are you able to grow gigantic?", “The same answer, it just came naturally I guess”.

The boy stopped talking but the fear slightly lifted from the boy’s face much to Wilbur’s relief. “Are you okay?”, he asked with concern. “F-fine, just scared”. Wilbur hummed in reply.

“You don’t have to be scared; I’ll protect you”. He squeezed Tommy gently, in reassurance. Tommy picked up on it this time. He could see a small smile plaster the boy’s features.

…

Night soon came, as it was apparent that the two were really tired. Wilbur could feel the boy slip in and out of consciousness in his hand. “Tired, Gremlin?”. He got a half sleepish, ‘Mhm’.

Wilbur hummed and picked up the boy, bringing him closer to his mouth. He opened his mouth and breathed out. Warm breath brought the boy out of his sleepish state and went to alert as he saw Wilbur’s mouth coming ever so closer.

“W-Wilbur!? What are you doing?!”. He screamed out, Wilbur closed his mouth and stared down at Tommy in confusion. “I thought you were tired?”, “Course I’m fucking tired but what the fuck are you trying to do?!”.

“Eat you?...”, “EAT ME?!”. He yelled out, “What do you mean eat me?!”. “Uh, do humans not at each other?”, “OF FUCKING COURSE NOT!”.

“Oh…”. Wilbur stumbled, confused. Since when did humans not eat each other? He thought since he could do it himself it was also a human trait. Turns out it wasn’t. Turns out humans’ control quite control their stomach acids as Tommy explained.

“Well-“ Wilbur coughed, “You still need to sleep Tommy”. He then opened his mouth and gently placed Tommy in much to his complaints. He licked the boy, tasting dirt and other things. “Wilbur!”, Tommy yelled out but got no response as Wilbur tilted his head back and swallowed.

…

Tommy felt as he couldn’t breathe as muscles pushed against him, he had no room to move, it didn’t help his claustrophobia. Not only that but Tommy was terrified, his mind raced with panic. He knew Wilbur wouldn’t hurt him, but his mind yelled at him anyways.

He soon fell into a larger space, his stomach. He pounded at the walls, begging to be let out but the walls only pressed against him, a soft rumbling of Wilbur’s body around him. Wilbur’s purring. Not only that but there were soft reassurances from Wilbur.

Well, maybe it wasn’t too bad, he was honestly really tired. He leaned against the wall, which was warm. Something he hasn’t quite have for a while, it was oddly comforting. He yawned and fell into a deep sleep, mumbling a goodnight.

…

Wilbur smiled as he finally felt the boy sleep, Tommy had been through a lot and needed the rest. Now Wilbur had to figure out what was going to happen next…

Summary:

Wilbur: You need sleep Tommy.

Tommy: No

Wilbur: Yes *nom*

Tommy : AAAAAAA

Also Tommy: *Sleeps*

[prose-for-hire]

Love, Hate, Love: Part three

Part One // Part Two

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Spike and the reader disliked each other until they recall their shared past. They finally acknowledge it and their feelings begin to spill - but is it too late? This is the final part !!

Originally requested by: @therapieliteratur​

Warning: Alcohol consumption. Implied sex. Very dodgy/amateur-ish inserted poetry lol

A/N: I don’t have anything for Valentine’s this year, so this will have to do !! Happy Valentine’s Day loves 💖🖤

The evening swept around him, the wind hissing mocking taunts as he ran from the broken promise of your love.

As William sobbed, he stumbled into the field that harboured that oak tree. Once a solace, now a marker of his loss. A gravestone to your love.

His heart was shattered and he made a decision, one that would mean you would never see him again.

In that moment, you were facing your own battle. You still lived with your parents. They did not permit you to leave that afternoon. You panicked, explaining yourself and the reason you were so desperate to go. Which just made it worse.

“Father, please!” You screamed, tears streaming hot and salted, “Please understand, William is a good man. Of a good family”

“Other arrangements have been made, child” He warned, not explaining what these were. You weren’t expected to know or comprehend.

“I love him!” You shouted. The house stopped still. Nobody moved. You were supposed to be seen, not heard. Respect your mother and father’s will. Your mother cried and begged, trying to still you from leaving.

But you managed it, running all the way to the chapel, pleading solace with the vicar. Only to find that your lovers heart was shattered and broken on the floor.

It sounded like broken glass under your feet as your tear-stained wedding gown clung to you.

You had returned from the school a week ago and fitfully rested since. You had offered your hand to help Spike up. He hadn’t taken it, but he hesitated before he told you to go away. The bite in his voice had gone. Neither of you wished to use such harsh tones anymore.

You were back in your home again. Another monotonous fight finished. They all seemed the same. You sighed, shaking your bra to remove the dust from your cleavage.

It was a few days since you last shared your dreams and suddenly you began to crumble under the weight of your tears. Crying almost as much as you had that night as that memory kept flashing behind your eyes. It still felt so fresh. How he hadn’t been there. How you had been too late.

Your legs gave out from under you. Somehow, you were on your knees. Sobbing on the tile of your kitchen floor.

You didn’t realise, but he was out there. Watching. He had followed you home and seen that you lived in a house. A real one. He had scoffed at this and that you had paid over the odds for necro-tempered glass so that you could sit in some kind of sunlight without burning in your own home. He knew this, because he had found an invoice when he had been rooting in your trash.

He was smoking when he saw the kitchen light turn on. You were visible until you dropped to the floor. Eyes leaking with such emotion.

It physically hurt him to see you that way as he moved closer to the window. Tears started to prickle behind his eyes, a lump forming at the back of his throat. He wished to wrap his arms around you. Be allowed in your house, to offer comfort. For you to want his comfort.

He had always hated to see you cry.

In the following weeks, as Spike healed, your hearts began to break over and over. You avoided facing each other, it was too painful even to be in the same room.

Spike stayed outside your house more frequently and you found yourself napping a lot more than usual, just in case you caught the moment he would be sleeping too.

You longed for him in sleep just as he pined for you in reality. You began to want each other in all manner of consciousness. Defying the pain. The hatred you had once been so convinced of. All you wanted was the other and it infuriated you. Whilst somehow simultaneously being a solace.

You were a comfort blanket that the other held close. Wrapped around your hearts for protection. Soft like Sunday morning sheets dipped in the sun’s rays. The warmth of summer days meeting the whispering of cool winter nights.

The care you had weaved in and out of your hearts left a thread. A thread that entwined with theirs and tugged towards the other. The feeling was the last thing you could cling to.

But the pain, the loss. It was creeping up on you both. It always was. Becoming harder and harder to bear. The dreams and memories becoming more and more tainted. The worse, most painful parts taking up most of the dreams.

Despite all of this, you both settled in to sleep much earlier than you ever had before. You still wanted to touch the other, feel the other’s mind. Emotions through the dream. The truth of your love. The promise that it had been real for both of you. Even if it were for mere seconds.

You looked out of the window again, sighing, staring out into the night. Not realising Spike was staring back. You were too in your own head.

You saw it now, where you hadn’t been able to before. His softer side. The lover’s heart that was still firmly planted on his sleeve. How had you missed the attention he had given to Drusilla? How had you ignored the way he spoke about her. Protected her.

Why do you now envy her? Him? For the love story you were never allowed.

You remembered so much now. You both defied convention. You always had. Now you were starting to notice all of the similarities he had to that young man you agreed to marry. You craved him. His touch. His mind.

Through the next few days, the dreams became more frequent again. More scenes from the past. More feelings. Multiple times in the night. Both of you guiltily looking forward to them. The first part, anyway. It was worth the heartache, the hollow loss at the end. To be able to touch each other again, even briefly. Just like it had been.

You had both began to write again, feverish emotions and memories spinning. You had rediscovered your love for poetry as well as that guilty affection you held for the other.

You arrived in the school library one late afternoon. Spike had seen you crying that first time a while ago now and had been watching your house more often than he would like to admit. Your heart ached with every waking moment and you felt yourself walking through life as some kind of emotion-exhausted zombie might.

“Nice of you to join” Xander murmured with a smile. You had been late. You got caught up by the vampire that often tried to make you pay him to pass by ‘his’ turf in the underground tunnel system.

Oh, right, now the vampire that used to make you pay to pass him in the tunnels.

“Yeah, sorry. What’s the sitch?” You asked, a well-practiced smile now stitched on your face for them. You weren’t really expecting much of an update as you started to shake some dust out of your hair.

“It’s Spike. We can’t just let him walk anymore. I’m goin’ out tonight and putting an end to his reign of stupid”

“N-no” You said, unsure why your mouth had moved of your own accord. You had stopped what you were doing and now just staring vaguely at the middle of the room.

“What?”

“Y/n, you know as well as we do, if not more so, what may happen should we allow Spike to continue his ill-thought out tyranny at will”

“He’s not exactly enemy number one is all I meant” You shrugged slowly, still staring unblinkingly as more memories flashed behind your eyes. He was so human in your mind, you couldn’t let that go. Even despite everything you knew about him. The goodness, no matter how limited it appeared, was starting to shine through.

“How can you even begin to defend-”

“Isn’t there a major mayor-related-massacre threatening at any moment? Shouldn’t we care more about immediate threat than some vampire who would sell his remaining brain cell for some box-bleach?”

“Spike’s dangerous though, Y/n. With the threatening and the, uh, hostage-taking-of-me” Willow said softly. It made you feel so guilty. It tore you in half, her words. You berated yourself. For clinging to that rare happiness you felt in those dreams you shared at the expense of real lives.

Your feelings all ran at each other at once. A fated fight. To the death. Neither side was winning or losing, but the battle waged on fiercely.

“Okay. But let me do it” Your eyes almost pleading with them and after some consideration, they agreed. It was you and him, to the very end.

You waited for him at the bar. Simultaneously wishing him to arrive and hoping that he never did.

He arrived, walking towards you, the dim glow of the bar making his prominent cheekbones cast a shadow against his cheeks. Your eyes were transfixed on him, he moved in slow motion. Adjusting the shoulder of his leather duster as he walked.

As he came towards the bar, your eyes flashed between seeing him in reality stalking up to the bar and William walking, smiling towards you. The pictures cutting and splicing themselves together until it was one man.

Nostalgia sticking to your mind like glue, running into your eyes. Blurring the two. He was the same man. Your mind was becoming more and more sure of this.

Which was why this was going to be so hard.

Neither of you pretended the other wasn’t there today, you gestured for him to sit next to you on the spare seat. He stared for a moment, an eyebrow quirked in confusion before he just shrugged and threw himself down beside you.

“Lookie here, if it isn’t the runaway bride” He said, his voice bit deeper than he had expected. He remembered, then. You hadn’t been sure.

“Will- uh, Spike. I didn’t run” You corrected him, without elaboration.

“Yeah, well, suppose it’s not running if you didn’t bother to turn up in the first place”

“That is way not fair! I was totally-” He raised his eyebrows at your phrasing and tensed his jaw at your lie. You cut yourself off, trying to rephrase.

You explained. Exactly what had happened and how you had stayed there all night and through the next day despite the biting cold and rain. Your wedding gown soaked through, but you wouldn’t move.

You explained that you had hoped he would know you had run into trouble. That you would be there when you could.

And Spike believed you. Even when you were younger, he could always tell when you had been lying. This was probably the most honest you had been with him since you had met again.

Spike’s eyes were threatening to spill over again and he hid it by looking downwards, he was about to say something. Reply to your recount of that day, apologise for leaving so quickly, when you were interrupted.

“He bothering you, Y/n?” The bartender asked, gesturing with his head at Spike. Every time he saw you and Spike together there was a fight and you looked more miserable than usual.

“No, uh, we’re on a date. This is, like, my happy face” You assured him with a blank expression that made him laugh, “I’ll have my usual and whatever William usually drinks.”

The bartender looked at Spike, trying to hide his obvious laughter at his real name. No wonder he had chosen Spike. Spike glared, first at you and then at the bar tender. Who surrendered and moved away to make your drinks.

You did shoot Spike an apologetic look. It had slipped out again.

When you received your round you drank in silence for a while. Your thoughts marinating in your brains. Sitting beside each other, sharing a drink – it was alien. But neither of you could help enjoying it.

He knew now that he still loved you. It hurt and he was confused with himself for it, but he couldn’t deny it. Not any longer. You had been all he ever wanted and even now he just wanted to hold you against him the way he had fantasised about in his human years.

He found himself wanting to understand you. Wanting to be allowed beneath your scarred surface. He wished to comfort you when you cried. He wished to relearn the patterns of your mind. He knew your sweet poetry wasn’t lost, just like it wasn’t in his own mind.

You knew you would have never been able to do it. As soon as he walked in, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The stake in your sleeve was splintering uncomfortably and you let it. Your penance for what you were about to say.

“I came here to kill you” You admitted, “Slayer wants you dead”

“And you and your soul’s okay with that one? Pretty little off switch your morality got, isn’t it?” He laughed humourlessly swigging from his drink, “My life’s not worth anything when there’s nothin’ in it for you and yours”

“You could run” You let the suggestion hang in the air.

“And the Slayer would let that happen? Me toddlin’ off until the next time our paths cross and then it’s dust in the wind. For the both of us” He accused. Telling you what you had always known. Your fates were entwined. You had lived and loved together. Been sired at similar times, managed to grasp onto your unlives despite the constant threat. Your soul ached for him, his missing but still showing even if it was just in your own eyes.

You took it in turns to buy the other their drink of choice. It really was like the date you had never been on. You sat in silence, each considering what had been said. Until it had gotten too much for you.

You couldn’t hide, nor run anymore. The shift was too great. Tectonic.

He caught your eye, as you watched him closely. Were you going to say this?

“I look at you and I see that oak tree, those freckles. That smile you used to give me that was ours. Like a secret that only we knew” You spoke, voice wavering and glass crunching under your hand as you held your cup too tight, “I hear the poetry, feel the breeze on my face. I can even feel the bodice that used to dig into me as we sat on the grass…” Your voice caught as his face started to soften at your confession, “I know this is selfish and… wrong. But y-you’re him. The only love ever allowed in my heart. The only one that ever will be. You’ve not changed in the way you think you have, my love” You finished, your accent switching in and out from the one you used to have and the one you used now.

He was reeling from your words. He had never, in all the time he had known you while you were undead, seen you be so honest. So vulnerable. You spoke from the heart, the way you had always used to.

Her love. Your love. He replayed those words over and over. Unable to hate or cast out any affection anymore. It was you.

You usually hid behind your guilt. Thick insulation, stopping you from moving forwards. Kept you constantly recounting past sins. It held your tongue, bound your actions to those that Angel helped construct. Acting only in a way that would allow for you to atone. No happiness, no light.

But now you were bearing yourself to him. Daring to be vulnerable - to hope that he felt it too. Despite it all. Despite who he had been to you in recent memory. The hatred, the dislike felt more distant a memory than the love your shared now.

“Cognate souls sing in early morning. My heart, begotten” The words spilled from his mouth, tears running down his cheeks now.

“There lies she, a woman. The type one may tie a knot in” You whispered, almost choking on the words and how happy they had made you. How he had asked you to be his. To marry.

You locked eyes. Both still shining. Before he closed his eyes for an extended period of time. Savouring those words. That moment.

You were holding back more tears. These feelings long since hidden, but never lost. Your dead hearts began to flutter.

You leaned in and his lips caught yours. Lips moving slowly to begin with but even the slightest movement of your lips spurred him to kiss deeper. You responded desperately, hands reaching for him.

Needing this. Needing him. You wished to make up for being so late. In this kiss.

You could taste salt and… him. The way he tasted hadn’t changed. His lips were almost warm against yours. His tongue entering your mouth hot and urgent. You kissed as if the threat of being torn from the other was imminent.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping the material of his shirt. Wishing you could take it from him right here. Press your naked skin against his. His hand slid up the curve of your neck. The other grasping at the strands of your hair.

You fumbled, pulling each other desperately closer. Bar stools fallen in your wake. You were lost in the kiss, both of you were. Moving on instinct, lips hungry and desperate to recreate the feelings you had all that time ago.

You somehow had entered his crypt. His bed was covered, completely littered with papers. Scrawled with such feeling. Some aged, that had been guiltily kept and some on fresh lined paper. He shoved them from the bed haphazardly. You missed his slight embarrassment as you attached your lips to his neck instead. Tugging on his waistband, desperate and pleading.

You needed this. You had ached for his touch for too long. This was so much more real than the dream. So badly you wanted him. Quick and now.

Your lips pressed against any skin hungrily and you were working desperately to remove all of his clothes as fast as you could.

But he stilled your hands.

Guiding your head back so you would face him. Your pupils dilated and dazed already by your desire for him. For this act that had been held in reverence. The meeting of your bodies in the way you had been told to save for your true love in your youth.

That time had passed but there was something about it being him. About it being you. You had always wanted to feel his naked flesh against your own.

“Wait, Sweet- let me?” he mumbled against your lips, kissing softly now. Like he used to. You almost wept. His mouth grazed yours, not as cautious as he once was. He had learned since, but the way his lips caressed yours. The feeling, that heart, it was still there. His lips insisted that he was still promised to you.

He wanted nothing more than to take you, rough with desire and throbbing with passion. But there was something he had to do. Something William would never forgive him for if he didn’t take this opportunity. Something he would never forgive himself for.

You nod, you were his. You always had been. You couldn’t turn back now despite him allowing you to think on it for that brief moment.

He took you, laid you back on his bed. His guiding grip strong but surprisingly tender. His hands ran down your body in a silent adoration.

He took his time to remove items of your clothing that were left. The fabric felt binding until his hand rested there. With his touch, a sigh of relief. You both felt yourselves releasing a long-held breath. One you had held inside for centuries.

Your eyes shone. It was emotional for the both of you. To have so much right here in front of them. To have everything you had truly ever dreamed.

In this moment, you felt his love in every stroke. Every murmur, every gentle encouragement. Movement. He enjoyed the way you touched his body with such reverence. Adored every sigh of pleasure.

He was firm in his love, in his touch. Your hands sliding up his back, weaving and clasping at his short, bleached hair. You moved so easily with him. Your bodies in perfect harmony. As if they were truly made for each other.

He kissed every part of you. His lips discovering places he had only ever dared dream about before. Sometimes he pressed his lips a little teasingly but others because he wanted to worship your form. He couldn’t rush this. His lips skimming every curve of your body. William was already writing sonnets in his mind. Pressing them into your skin.

He had wanted to do this since the day he had discovered what love making was. To meet your flesh with his. To consummate his adoration. To prove his devotion to your body, not just the mind he already adored. He had wanted to have you this way. To show you how true this feeling was.

His rhythm peaked and slowed. His touch sensual and yet wholly sensitive to you. Kisses littering your skin. He couldn’t believe you were here. That you were in his bed. He had longed, ached. Imagined exploring the beauty encapsulated in your form. His mind was intoxicated with you. Your touch, even your scent.

His eyes never leaving yours. Your eyes shone, threatening to spill again. You caught his lips when he kissed a trail along your collarbone towards your lips. You whispered such loving assurances against his pale skin. Into his ear as he ran a hand along your thigh. You cradled his body to you, wrapping yourself around him. Ensuring he was ever closer.

You hoped that he knew you were right there with him. That you were his, like you had been all those years ago.

You laced your fingers with his. Locking like your eyes. Every part of you had to be connected. You craved each other and it was only satisfied when you were together completely. In mind and body.

No mere dream.

He woke up the next evening, expecting you to be gone. He screwed his eyes up, not willing himself to look less the desperate pang of disappointment swallow him whole.

But when he dared to open his eyes you were there. On your side facing away from him. Sleeping. You had never slept so well, not since you had got your soul back.

You looked so peaceful when you slept. Much more so than when you were awake. He rolled over to press himself against your body. His hand tracing the curvature of your body. He had been deprived of your touch for so long.

He didn’t want this moment to end. This is what he had been missing all these years. It was you. It had only ever been you.

He cautiously ran a hand along your bare skin and enjoyed as you sighed softly through sleep. Your shoulders were exposed and he pressed his lips to your skin. Slow, gentle kisses. Pressed with such meaning. It was as soft as he remembered, despite the years. The fights.

He closed his eyes at the contact, hearing your contentment. You moved back slowly, needy for his body to further embrace yours.

This was all he had ever dreamed of. All he had written about. This was a century in the making.

Your eyes began to open, in your sleepy state you turned to him. You smiled.

William.

The smile lit up the room, better than the sun he remembered whenever you were around. You leaned in, settling a sleepy kiss against his lips.

Written poetry was scattered around the bed you shared for the day. Surrounding you both. Spike’s passion rekindled as yours was. For love and for poetry.

It was in that state between sleep and wake where reality hadn’t quite caught up. Your guilt hadn’t hit you. Your duty, anxieties. None of it was more important than the scene before you.

Everything just felt right. All you knew was this early evening adoration. You felt comfortable. Safe.

The world had stopped on its axis in this moment. The first shoots of love re-growing from your hearts.

[greywindys]

I had a fic I was working on for 2Doc week, but it betrayed me and turned angsty when I wanted something softer. So instead, I thought I could share a fic I never published, and I believe the first fic I ever wrote (dated in Google as complete on June 17th, 2016. Holy moly!)

It fits into day 3′s prompt of firsts - the first night the spent together on good terms. The beginning of the bond, I guess. It could also be considered the first head massage (lmao), as I like to think 2D is good with his hands in various scenarios 😉. (I adapted the head massage into scenes in later fics, but this was the first time I worked with it as a concept.)

If there are any “M” or “D” I apologize! When I was starting out, I was too self-conscious to write their entire names (lmao @ me). Oh, how things have changed. Hopefully, I corrected them all, along with most of the typos...

The rating here is T. Essentially, Murdoc encounters 2D late at night when he can’t sleep, and ends up watching a movie with him. They begin to form a tentative bond, head massages are had as much needed sleep. Takes place during P1.

Also happy bday again, Murdoc 😭

For Murdoc, sleeping is a daunting game of chance. First, there are the good nights, when he drinks enough to remain in a complete stupor until daylight. Then, there are the bad nights when his body’s need for genuine slumber catches up with him. On these nights, he dreams. More often than not, they come to him in the form of nightmares ranging from painfully specific to vague and unsettling. Like a flood, all of the emotions and thoughts he had intended to leave behind in Stoke return.

Tonight is one of those nights.  

This one, in particular, is the reason he’s left the grimy safety of his Winne, head still aching. He intends to rummage through the studio mini-fridge for the half-consumed bottle of rum he started that morning. (after all, his anxiety wasn’t going to fix itself). Instead, he's thrilled to discover the fridge has been restocked, and he's about to grab an unopened bottle of rum when he's interrupted by a crash coming from the direction of the lobby.

The noise is coming towards the kitchen now in slow, shuffling steps. Murdoc presumes it could either be one of the wayward demons he summoned the other day, or it could be another one of the building's many intruders looking for a blank wall to vandalize. Nothing he wants to deal with now in his anxious state. Murdoc considers making a run for his Winnebago but decides against it. ‘You’re Murdoc Niccals” he thinks to himself, ‘Bass god and creative genius. You're not ten anymore and you don't get scared.' With that, he braces himself and he turns to face the unknown figure that was now in the doorway.

“Oh...Hi, Murdoc.”

It’s 2D.

“I've got half a mind to lob you through another car window,” he says trying to mask his surprise. “What the hell are you doing walking around with the lights off in the middle of the night?” That must have been the source of the noise. Typical. It’s as if 2D is intentionally searching for a way to get injured.

2D scratches his head. “No need to get so steamed up about it. I, uh, well, I guess I was trying to keep to the ambiance and all that. I didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now.”

“I don’t know what’s so unexpected. I get more done in a night that you would in a year,” Murdoc replies. He takes a sip of one of the bottles of rum he’s assembled on the counter. “So long as there are still songs to write, the siestas can wait.”

“Not sleeping well then?” 2D asks blithely. Murdoc can’t tell if the singer has seen right through him or failed to comprehend a word of what he just said. He finds him very unreadable at times, and in the most infuriating way.

“No. I was working. Being productive. You ought to try it once in a while,” Murdoc grumbles in response. “Anyways. What’s all this about the ‘ambiance’?” As if 2D is that deep. “And why here?”

“That new zombie movie, you know the one I was telling you about? Well, it arrived today,” 2D says with a grin. “And now I’m watching it. It’s a lot scarier when you do it the dark.”

“Well you have a TV, no, THREE TVs in your room,” Murdoc retorts, exasperated. “Just go away and watch it there.”

“Yeah, uh, l thought about that, but the special effects in this one are supposed to be wicked good and the screen in the lobby has a clearer picture than the screens in my room. I would have watched it this afternoon, but Russel said Noodle shouldn’t be watching all the blood and guts, so I waited until now. It’s better watching scary movies late at night anyway, you know?” 2D is looking at Murdoc now, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. “A couple blokes on this forum I was reading were describing it like a Romero meets Raimi type film, really over the top.”

“Sounds like a real Oscar winner you have there,” the sarcasm in Murdoc’s voice is palpable.

“Actually, it was a straight to video release, but you should check it out,” 2D says. “I’m only about ten minutes in now...if you have...time,” he trails off awkwardly.

The band had faced many inexplicable and absurd situations, but it is 2D’s consistent attempts to be friends that confounded Murdoc the most. His first inclination to tell the singer to fuck off. Yet the thought of the solitary journey back through the car park gives him pause. He isn't sure he can handle being alone right now. He needs an immediate distraction, a mood lifter, and making fun of 2D has the potential to be a two in one solution. At the very least, it was a safer gamble than going back and running the risk of falling asleep again.

Murdoc makes 2D wait for an answer in uncomfortable silence before replying. “Fine,” he says, “This better be entertaining.”

2D brightens at his response. “Just let me grab some snacks and then we can go back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, and this time turn on the damn lights.”

With some newly acquired light and a bag of crackers in hand, 2D leads Murdoc to the lobby. A collection of pillows and blankets litter the floor. All the while, and to Murdoc’s annoyance, he takes the time to tell him every detail of the conception of his setup. He had been in the lobby for the past four hours watching movies. According to 2D, doing so in such an open area was much scarier than in his room or even in the building’s cinema. He was also sorry because they would have to turn the lights off again when the film starts. “Because well, you know, Muds. The ambiance.”

“Just start the bloody movie will you,” Murdoc replies from his spot on the floor. The size of Kong is intimidating at night, and it’s not helping him calm down. He hates how much his dreams still affect him. Physically, he had left all the bad energy behind ages ago, but mentally it follows him like a low-hanging mist, threatening to completely engulf him daily. He couldn't seem to make it go away, but he could control how much he thought about it. Alcohol was typically his mainstay but right now, that job belonged to an unwitting 2D. If he didn’t start the movie soon, Murdoc was going to set his entire movie collection on fire.

“It’s the little triangle that does the trick, right?” 2D asks as he studies the remote. “Never mind. I think I have it. There we go.”

The scene starts with a group of young adults in their twenties hiking through the woods as night falls. Occasionally, the camera switches angles. It shows the group from alternate perspectives such as the bushes or the tops of trees.

“The director wanted to flip the whole slow zombie portrayal on its head,” 2D explains. “There’s already been talk of fast zombies in the indie horror community, but he wants to take that one step further. In an interview, he said that not only were his zombies going to be fast, but they were also going to fly.”

“That’s stupid. And you thought this was worth the twenty or so quid you blew on it?”

“He’s ahead of his time. You’ll see. Look,” 2D says through a mouthful of crackers. He points to the current scene. One of the protagonists had wandered away from his group in search of a good place to set up camp. “See what he does with the camera there? We’re watching the main character from the perspective of a flying zombie. The director wanted to make a movie about an outbreak that emerges in the wilderness, not because of some virus. It's meant to add to the impossibility of the situation. How do we fight against something not man-made? Watching the film through the eyes of the monster emphasizes how alone and insignificant we are in the face of well, everything. Man versus nature, nature versus man.”

Murdoc grabs the bag of crackers from 2D. “Oh please. This is hardly cutting edge. We all know they’ll all be dead in the end because nature is bigger than man. Duh.” He takes a handful for himself and continues watching.

2D ignores him and continues his reflection. “It makes me wonder whether it would be better to be a zombie at the end, rather than survive. Not sure I would want the loneliness that comes with it.”

Murdoc is beginning to realize that 2D is in one of his chatty, philosophical moods. He attempts to tune out the singer’s blathering with another drink from the bottle of rum he brought with him from the kitchen. He came here to watch a ridiculous movie. Instead, he's stuck listening to banal musings about the true nature of humanity from someone with a half-functioning brain.

“Well if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse here, I’ll be sure to let them eat you first if you’re so eager. You’re already halfway there anyway, and certainly no better off than these divs on screen.”

“Thanks, Muds. If I ever get infected, I’ll make sure not to bite you...unless you want me too,” 2D replies.

This time, it’s Murdoc's turn to ignore him. “Anyways, as far as I’m concerned, anyone who’s too pathetic to fight against a zombie apocalypse deserves whatever is coming to them.” He gets a twisted sense of comfort from blaming.

“I dunno...I don’t see any shame in being afraid of a monster bigger than you. That’s what makes these movies so scary. We all have our own monsters that seem impossible to overcome,” 2D says sagely. “It’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just how it is.”

Murdoc scowls. “Does watching movies at this hour always turn you into a half-braindead Socrates? Or Plato? Hippocrates? He's just naming names now. He fidgets.  

On-screen, another character screams as one of the zombies bites her arm.

“Are you alright there, Muds?” Why did 2D have to pick up on everything? “Movie too scary for ya?”

“No!” Murdoc snaps. “It’s not that… It’s just...” Neither 2D nor the rum he grabbed from the fridge earlier had done anything to dull his current bout of nerves. Instead, all the tension has been gathering at the base of his neck. The throbbing in his head from before is even worse. He groans in frustration.

“You just seem a little on edge, that’s all.”

“...It’s my head.”

“Oh, you have a headache,” 2D says, seemingly pleased that it’s an issue well within the breadth of his expertise. “Do you need any help with it? I was talking with my mum about mine just last week; she gave me something good.”  

Murdoc perks up. He could count on one hand the number of scenarios where he would place his trust in 2D. Pain medicine was one of them. A strong painkiller could change everything. “Do you happen to any of those buggers with you now?”

“Sure,” 2D says, smiling as he moves closer to where Murdoc is sitting.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m um, well for this to work I’m actually going to have to touch your head.”

Immediately, Murdoc jerks away. “You what?!”

2D shrinks back in response. “It’s just a head massage, Muds.  My mum’s worried about the number of prescriptions I have so we cut one of the stronger ones out and replaced it with this. We wanted to see if it made a difference. I’ve been going to a massage therapist for the past two weeks or so. It doesn’t quite do the trick but it works well enough, I picked up some technique myself, uh, I think.”

“You can take all that geeky zen rubbish and sod off,” Murdoc mutters.

“Okay, Muds...alright.”

They continue watching the screen as victim after victim gets infected. 2D continues to interject with overlong descriptions about symbolism, zombie lore, and film technique. Murdoc weighs his options. If he’s being honest, he’s at a point where he would accept anything that might make him feel better. But why did it have to be 2D? On the other hand, the singer wouldn’t stop talking. Considering it was just the two of them, and no one else would ever have to find out, Murdoc makes his decision. Allowing 2D to touch his head in this scenario was justified. Interrupting yet another explanation about the folly of man, he asks, “Hey uh...2D? You know that massage you were talking about? Will giving me one make you shut up for more than ten minutes?”

“Oh..uh,” 2D sounds surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, we can give it a try.” Hesitantly, he moves behind Murdoc and begins.

2D’s fingers send tiny sparks along Murdoc’s scalp as he kneads the muscles in his forehead, moving downwards along his hairline. He dwells on how amazing it feels but pushes that thought to the side with haste. He keeps his eyes locked on the screen and the excessive depictions of gore and chaos. It’s an apt representation of turmoil he is currently feeling inside. What he finds so maddening about 2D, even more than his inscrutability and empty-headedness, was his willingness to be kind to Murdoc. Murdoc had spent the past twenty or so years convincing himself that kindness was not meant to be a part of his life. There was something inherent to his existence that repelled it from him. And he had come to accept that until 2D had to come along and mess it all up. It had to be because he was just too stupid, there was no other answer. Murdoc wasn’t sure he would be able to handle any other answer.

As 2D moves his hands to the back of Murdoc’s head, he begins softly humming. He begins following along to the soundtrack of the movie but soon trails off on his own. Evidently, watching the movie without any sort of verbalization was not going to happen. However, the melody he’s come up with is wistful and soothing. Murdoc makes a mental note to ask him about it in the morning to see if it would fit with some lyrics he had drafting. Slowly, and a bit self-consciously, Murdoc feels himself begin to relax.

“How does it feel so far? Is it working?” 2D asks.

Oh, it was working. More than that, Murdoc realizes a significant amount of his tension had abated. The darkness of the lobby no longer looks so menacing, the unpleasant memories that were hovering over him seem to have floated away. He's never been able to settle himself down from a bad night without copious amounts of alcohol. It’s an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation.

“I think the movie is almost over. Didn’t quite live up to the hype but it was still pretty entertaining after all. How about you?” 2D asks, still looking for a response.

Murdoc yawns. “I’ll give this director you were so excited about some credit. He knows his way around a good death scene. I don’t think I’ve ever seen fake blood used that way before.”

“The fake blood actually cause a lot of controversies because some of it was real animal blood. I almost didn’t buy it myself.”

“Ah. A man after my own heart.” 2D’s hands are still kneading the back of his head when Murdoc moves to lie down on his stomach.

“Oh, are you going to sleep now?” 2D asks.

“No. Keep going.” He would have never considered it earlier in the night but, as the singer's fingers continue to run through his hair, Murdoc muses that sleep may not sound so bad after all. Even though it was just 2D, it’s comforting to have him there. 

“So I guess it’s been helping then? My mum will glad to hear,” 2D says. “But you might want to run a comb through your hair a bit more often, it’s all greasy...also a bit tangled in the back.”

“Just...shut up.”

So he does, returning to the reflective melody he had been humming just minutes ago. It’s the singer’s soft croon that sticks in Murdoc's mind as he finally drifts off completely.

-------

When his eyes open, the first thing Murdoc notices is the half-empty bottle of rum he had left by his side. The next thing he notices is that he's still in the lobby, surrounded by blankets. He must have slept there the entire night. 

“Oh, morning, Muds,” comes a familiar voice just to the right of him. “You’re awake.”

Turning quickly in the direction of the voice, Murdoc finds himself face to face with 2D. “What the hell are you still doing here?” M demands, mortified, “Why didn’t you go back to your own room?”

“Well, I was going to do that, but once you laid down, I wanted to lay down too, and you rolled over on my arm and wouldn’t budge. I tried to tell you, but all you did was try and elbow me. You missed though,” 2D mumbles. It sounds like he’s still half asleep. “Then I guess I just nodded off.”

Murdoc feels his embarrassment beginning to morph into anger but decides to ignore it. He's pretty comfortable right where he is. “You’re lucky you’re my lead singer.” 2D was also lucky that he gave good head massages. “Because otherwise, you would be on some really thin ice right now.”

“We’ll be lucky to see any ice at all this winter what with all the warm weather.”

Usually, an obtuse response from 2D would have earned him a string of insults or a swat on the head. Today was not going to be one of those days. Murdoc turns again so that he’s facing away from the singer, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the light. He was going to savor the moment a bit longer. Despite 2D being 2D, it’s rare that he’s ever felt so at peace.

“Hey, Murdoc? Wait,” 2D says, “You never gave me my arm back.”

“Too bad. I’ll check back in a couple hours,” Murdoc grins beneath the blanket. He still couldn’t pass up a chance to inconvenience the singer at every opportunity. It was too much fun.

“Don’t be such a wanker,” 2D says as he attempts to jerk his arm out from underneath the bassist. “I was nice to you!”

He was right. And he was probably nicer than he deserved, given their history. For that reason, Murdoc would roll off his arm soon enough. He still wanted to talk to him about that song he had been humming.

The singer had surprised him last night. Murdoc knew that 2D had an uncanny ability to figure out how to annoy him to maximum effect, but he never would have expected him to also know what to do to put him at ease. Underneath the covers, he ponders what exactly this realization means to him. He isn’t sure, but he knows it means something. It wasn’t going to eliminate the underlying resentment he still clung to, nor was it going to solve his infinite list of issues. But at the very least, he could rest assured knowing that he wasn’t completely alone.

[inspirationdivine]

Perchance To Dream || Lydia and Jared

Timing: During the POTW Parties: @themidnightfarmer @inspirationdivine Summary: When Jared’s glamour fails, he seeks out a safe place to hide and reflect

He’d never had so much trouble keeping himself in check. Jared was usually very disciplined with his glamour, it was firm even while he was asleep most nights even. But it seemed exhaustion was unlike any other external factor, and he found himself actually having to concentrate hard on keeping his appearance ‘normal’ as he went about his shopping. He was slipping, he felt himself slipping before he caught his reflection in a window as he passed by, he was losing control and his skin was fading out of it’s fake hue. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d lost it, and with how brutal his natural appearance could be, he needed to get home fast. He cursed having walked into town. Of all days to have decided not to have the safety of a closed vehicle. There was a bubbling panic in his stomach as he passed yet another dark window, able to see his eyes shifting from blue to purple. “Fuck.” and he took off running. He didn't think about where he was going, but when he arrived at the gates of Lydia's home he felt saved. He sprint into the gate and around the garden out of sight of any prying eyes. Or he would have had he not been tackled to the ground.

Lydia was completely unaware of the situation happening just outside her garden. She had a backlog of emails as long as her that she was busy with, and a kitten toying with her left hand, keeping her distracted as she tried to type. “Hey! Gentle,” she scolded the tabby cat when she was bitten a little too hard. Just then, O walked in urgently, speaking fast. “We have neutralised a threat in the garden. Tall male individual with grey skin, purple eyes, please advise.” They were watching her carefully, in case she began to panic. Lydia started at the zombie for a long moment, before putting the pieces together. “Oh! That’s Jared! Tell Jeremiah to let him go!” She told O, standing up and picking up Niamh as she followed O out to the garden, where Jeremiah did indeed have Jared in a head lock and pinned to the ground. “It’s alright! He is a friend!”

He was still trying so incredibly hard to get his glamour under check that his skin rippled like an awfully colour blind chameleon. Jared, despite this, sat completely still. He hardly even moved his chest to breathe as he was locked and held into the grass. As soon as he was released however, he rolled backwards and out of the reach of his captor to look up and find Lydia with his eyes. Grass stained and dirty now, but he still managed an exhausted smile when he found her. “I uh...didn’t call again I guess?” he said quietly hoping for a joke but really just regretting forgetting that she might have taken steps far beyond anything he’d known about before the mushrooming had happened. In fact it felt silly now that he had insisted Cap stay with her considering the small animal yawned as he emerged from a hedge to greet him only now. 

“No, you didn’t. Fortunately, I like you anyway,” Lydia laughed, giving him a careful, warm hug, careful to avoid the grass stains as she did so. “It’s good to see you.” Lydia turned to smile at the little distant Raiju that she had grown rather fond of seeing loitering in the corners. Jared had been right, she had appreciated its companionship, and had barely noticed it was there. “Someone, at least, has been anxious for a visit. Why don’t you come inside? It’s been a while, and I’ve missed you. It also looks like your glamour is having some issues.”

Jared accepted the hug with as much enthusiasm as his tired and slightly sore form could muster, he kept the smile on his face just for her as well. The nymph spared the security team a glance and then looked down to offer Cap a scratch behind the ear for all his good work guarding, even if Lydia had much more qualified people on hand now. He was happy to move away from the very intimidating team that were slowly dispersing around them from the threat he’d posed moments ago. He definitely didn’t want to not have Lydia's favour coming over unannounced; he decided in that moment, from now on he’d text (or he’d try to remember to call but there were never any promises). Following her inside he informed her “That’s why I sprinted over, I was planning on coming to visit this week, and then I sort of got trapped and I figured….you were the safest place to go since I was having so much trouble.” He waved a hand however and added “But it’s uh...no big deal I guess...how have you been. Feeling good with all your new security in place?”

“I completely understand. Jared, you are eternally welcome, and I shall ensure that everyone is quite aware of this in the future, regardless of what face you decide to wear next time.” Lydia walked over into her kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink, or to eat?” The busywork of getting out her glasses made it easier to answer the question. The last few days and the blood weighed heavy on her mind. Her back had healed in a week with as many ups as downs. “I adopted a cat! Niamh, who is floating around in the garden somewhere. My wing has healed. Not everything is quite as it should be, but I can hardly complain. Things are good.”

She was so wonderful, Jared was so pleased to have met someone who was so kind to him even when he’d potentially scared her. What with the breaking and entering of her proprietary after she’d had a VERY bad experience and all. “Uh yeah sure I’ll have some water or something.” he smiled, as he listened to her update him on how she was getting on he let the rest of his glamour fall away. Lydia wouldn’t mind, and it’d help him concentrate on her words more than his exhaustion. “You’re all healed up!! I was really hoping for you to recover, I was telling my kids about you the other night. Can’t wait to tell them you’re doing well.” he grinned. He wanted to give her a hug in delight but wasn’t sure the reception he’d get so instead bounced on the balls of his feet. “And a cat is a great companion, Niamh is a great name.” 

Lydia busied herself with picking out a nice crystal glass for him, getting a lemon from the fridge and cutting a slice of lemon to drop in beside the ice before pouring him the water. When she turned back, he looked as he should, beautiful in his abject inhumanity. “You were telling your kids? What, like bedtime stories for the puppy bonedoggles? Jared, you are the most adorable vicious creatures nymph I’ve ever met,” Lydia laughed, enthused by juist his presence. It washed away the blood and guilt on her conscience as she turned to hand him his glass. “She’s wonderful. Not quite as colourful as your kids, but great all the same. So, what’s up with your glamour?”

“They like to hear stories, they respond well to names they can put faces to, so yeah...I told the bonedoggle pups about you last night.” Jared maybe would have been a little defensive if she hadn’t laughed along with her words. Instead he beamed at her. “Not that they’re pups anymore, they’re young but growing fast.” He took the glass and immediately took a long drink. His hand catching the drips that had escaped the edges of his lips before he spoke again. “I’m real tired I guess? Not being doing too well the last few weeks, but it’ll get better. As soon as I can get some good sleep I’m sure it’ll get better… hopefully.”

“That’s… disarmingly cute. If I hadn’t met them, I wouldn’t believe they were even the littlest bit dangerous, you know,” Lydia smiled right back at him. “Really? How big are they now?” He drank so fast Lydia raised her eyebrows, pouring herself a glass of whiskey to go with his glass of water, before turning her attention back to him. “Has something happened?” Lydia asked gently, leading him over to the sitting room couch, so that they could sit side by side, her wings tucked away at her side. “Do you want to talk about it?” He could tell her anything, but Lydia wasn’t about to pry. That said, maybe if he was so tired by it all so much so that he was losing control of his glamour, maybe it was time to start talking about it.

“Oh well they are cute Lydia come on, they’re little faces are to die for….although they’re definitely not as cuddly as normal puppies I’ll give you that.” Jared joked lightly. He gulped down the water and then excitedly put the glass down so that he could hold his hands out to show her how big the pups had gotten. “Almost ready for their second trip for bones.” The words held pride he knew she might not understand, but he felt he could be himself about his kids with her, even if she didn’t fully agree she wouldn’t shoot him down. SItting down heavily on the couch he leaned back and fought off a yawn and the ache in his bones settled in. “Oh I just… didn’t have a very good time with the mushrooms this year, and then...sleepwalking, I can’t seem to get any rest...nightmares you know in amongst it all.” He shrugged at her and smiled despite his words. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out, I have hope at least right? Can’t be bad all the time can it?”

“The first time we met they were going to eat me!” Lydia protested with a laugh, her eyes widening with surprise as he gestured how big they were. “They’ve grown so fast! I assume that’s wonderful news!” Lydia smiled as he lit up with pride, his eyes bright and wonderful. “Sleepwalking? Is that new?” Lydia asked, her brows knitted as he talked. “Do you still feel bad about the human you killed?” Lydia asked softly, without any judgement. He had seemed cut up about it, in the same way Deirdre had been about Emma, in the same way Lydia’s stomach churned when she thought about what had happened a few days ago with Dot.

“They were not!” He protested in return but focused more firmly on the warm feeling in his gut as she enthused with him. It’d been a while since he’d been able to gush about his kids, just through sheer circumstance, and it was refreshing to have someone to allow him to indulge. Jared nodded slowly, he’d been trying to think of Ronald less and less, but it hadn’t been going exactly to plan. “I never meant to see him again, but I guess I fudged the words when I made him promise not to tell anyone. Forgot to add that he shouldn’t come back either… I… I fed him to the kids… I wish… I hadn’t had to and he’d just stayed away from us like I’d hoped. I wasn’t even in the right mind. It was like a bad trip and all of a sudden I was awake and it was all too apparent that I’d done something irreversible you know?” He wasn’t looking for sympathy, he wasn’t even sure if he was making sense. But the nymph knew that Lydia wouldn’t mind, or at least he hoped. She was so wonderful but he’d understand if she didn’t want to hear it all. He looked up at her from where he’d slouched in the cushions, like she’d have the answers, but he knew that was a lot to ask someone. “I’ve always been a bad shot too, the mushrooms gave me focus where I didn’t want it.”

Lydia shifted where she sat so she could touch his shoulder. There wasn’t more she could offer him really, other than the comfort of just being heard. Sometimes, that was enough. Sometimes, it was impossible to help in any other way.  “You did do something irreversible, but so did he,” Lydia began softly, trying to listen carefully. Well, if she had known he fed human corpses to his kids, that would have been useful a couple days ago. Not that that was the point now. “Even if he wasn’t promise bound to stay away, he wasn’t welcome and he knew it. Humans are far from my favourite, but they have basic modicums of intelligence no less than ours. He came irregardless, to take something from you. Or do you think it was something else that brought him there?”

Jared let his head droop to the side and his body lean into her comforting touch. “I don’t really know why he was there, but I can’t imagine it was with good intentions. I know people got all muddled up while they were there, the stray sod got a little bit out of control and all while I wasn’t really focused. But he’d have had to get there first.” he hadn’t really considered Ronalds intent on the farm, he’d been too shaken by having shot him. But now that he thought about it, he’d do anything for his kids...and if Ronald really had come back for them and not just shown up by accident like he’d feared, then he was a little less regretful. “I suppose if it was him or one of my kids I’d glad it was him…” he allows the words to escape his lips and then he grimaces. “Preferably no shots would have been fired while I wasn’t awake but I guess that’ how it was, can’t really do much now you know?” He spared her a pained smile, trying to mask the ill feeling swirling behind his eyes. “I feel like I should feel worse? But also I’m too tired to really think all that deep anyway, sleepwalking takes it outta you apparently.” he chuckled weakly. 

As he leant into her touch, Lydia wrapped her arm around his shoulders sideways. It was hardly the most comfortable of positions considering their egregious height difference, but it was comforting to have him so close. “So he was confused once he was there, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t had nefarious intentions before, whatever that looked like,” Lydia spoke quietly, gently. Clearly, obviously feeding him a biased world view, but sometimes that was what was needed, especially when Jared was so painfully biased against himself. He saw himself as the automatic villain, the cruel creature of the night, who had lost his way on the mushrooms. In Lydia’s humble opinion, it was as if the mushrooms had shown him the way, had made his aim true. The mushrooms had allowed him to react decisively, rather than risking any of Jared’s kids. “No, you can’t do much, but you are still permitted to feel. There is no should when it comes to emotion, only what is.” She gently traced patterns back and forth on his arm. “Sleepwalking? How long has that been going on?”

He felt a little touch deprived at that moment. Jared hadn’t realized how much he’d withdrawn these last few weeks and he hadn’t really felt he would be allowed to reach out considering what he’d done. He’d even stopped himself from giving Lydia a hug earlier. And yet here she was offering him comfort despite what the mushrooms had done to him. He shifted to lean into her, fully letting her ease his mind without question. He wanted to be told he wasn’t terrible, so he was willing to believe her blindly. “Yeah, he couldn’t have shown up by accident.” he decided. “I’m not sure, it could have been going on for ages and I wouldn’t have noticed at first.” he said, “I didn’t realize for far too long that Things had been moved, chores had already been done. But then it got worse, I woke up walking into the lake the other day...that wasn’t so fun. I heard other people are also sleepwalking so… it’s not mushrooms, I thought at first it was but I don’t think it is now.”

He melted into her arms like giraffe shaped putty, and Lydia shifted to accommodate him, so that he had as much space and warmth as he needed. “No, he intended to be there,” Lydia agreed encouragingly, hoping that the guilt would slowly melt away. “He was only human.” She reminded him. But as Jared explained more deeply about his sleepwalking, Lydia’s brows bent in a frown. “You were doing chores in your sleep? That’s almost helpful.” Lydia joked lightly, but she could see that he was entirely shaken by the entire situation, so she held him closer. “Other people? People you know or strangers? That’s… seriously disconcerting. I wish I knew how to help. Do you need anything?”

The nymph stifled a yawn, feeling incredibly safe and warm by Lydia's side, especially with the stress of keeping his glamour steady not buzzing on his skin. “Only human.” Jared repeated back to her, her outlook on species didn’t fully compute with his own ideology, but he supposed if it had to have been anyone, a human like Ron deserved to go the most. “Almost.” he chuckled in agreement. “Except I’d been doing things twice and I don’t really have the cash for extra of anything at the moment. Also the kids didn’t really enjoy whatever they could feel over our connection, got a few bites for being unresponsive.” he waved a hand dismissively at the bites however, he got nibbled all the time it didn’t mean much, he was just more upset that his kids had felt unrest at his state. “A few strangers, but some people I know as well. There doesn’t seem to be a system to it, it’s all just random. Oh god no Lydia it’s okay, it’s just a bit...unsettling I guess? You’re not sleepwalking or anything?”

Only human, Lydia echoed in her mind, because he wasn’t the only one reassuring himself of such things. She pushed that thought aside, unable to bear it right now, not when Jared needed her here. “Oh, Jared, if you ever need money, you need but ask.” She offered gently, but her eyes widened sharply as he described his kids’ reactions. “They bit you? Jared, are you alright?” Sure, he described them as sweet little things, but Lydia remembered the teeth on those Bonedoggles. A nibble was not just a nibble, no matter what Jared said. “That is disturbing,” Lydia agreed softly, making a mental note to ask about it to others, who might know more about dream disturbances. “No, I still haven’t been sleeping too well generally, since the attack, but I haven’t been sleepwalking.” Lydia dropped her cheek against the top of his head, taking his hand with the one not wrapped around his shoulders and squeezing his hand. “If there’s anything I can do for you, you can always ask. I am here for you.” 

“Don’t offer me money. I'm not a very good investment, I don’t tend to ever have enough to pay it back in anywhere near a timely manner.” Jared mumbled in response. He waved a hand, less enthusiastically than before stifling yet another yawn. “They have teeth, anything with teeth can bite, it's normal.” he hummed. At that point his eyes started to close, he was fighting a losing battle. He heard nothing else she’d said, missing her comment of not being able to sleep herself completely. His own selfish exhaustion had decided to flaunt it’s willingness for rest in her face. He’d fallen asleep in her arms.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Lydia replied. “But if you insist-” She looked down at him, and he didn’t look back up at her. His eyelashes were pressed closed, casting spidery shadows on his cheeks. He breathed quietly and slowly. Here, in her arms, he would not wander anywhere. He could rest safely here. His weight too, was the first weight pressing down on her all week that soothed rather than suffocated. Lydia’s eyes stretched to the raiju, lurking in the corner of the room, Cap watching Jared curiously. “Come here then,” she murmured, and the pile of two became three. 

[bubblyani]

Limit of Love

(Freddie Jackson x Reader)

Part 1 of Freddie Jackson Two Shot

Request by : @97freaknik

Rating: Mature (18+)

Author’s Note: When the idea of Freddie being in love was presented to me, it really did feel very challenging to imagine, given what we see in The Take. But anyways, we all can dream and imagine. And based on the request, I went through a rollercoaster ride myself writing this. Separated this into two parts, so that I can really get in to this. Hope you all enjoy!

The sun shining at nighttime was a phenomenon considered impossible. But not for you. Especially whenever those eyes, mixed with green and blue were in view. Whenever that smile, that flashed with happiness never left you alone. The smile that hinted happiness that only both of you could ever share.

All this, belonged to Freddie Jackson. And fortunately, he belonged to you.

“Busy with work?”

The question escaped your lips ever so casually, as your boyfriend entered the flat. You may have sounded so, but only you knew how excited you were upon seeing him.

“Mmmm yeah yeah...more or less” closing the door behind him, Freddie pondered while answering,“How about you?” His attention proceeded to move over to you, who seemed to be leaning on the pantry, scribbling something with focus.

“Oh! the same...yeah” you replied, tone filled with empathy, eyes unmoved.

“What you up to?”

“Ah...I got to fill these out for mum..” you said, pointing with your pen when he peeped from your side.

“It’s funny...” you began, “...when my parents used to tell me how busy they were, I wouldn’t believe them for one sodding bit...but now...” chuckling, you continued, “I understand...”

You didn’t hear his reply. In fact you didn’t hear anything at all.

“I hope you know...I’m not that kind of girl...to give you an awful time just cause I don’t see you for a few days an-Freddie? are you listening?”

Your question finally seemed valid, especially when you felt the zipper of your dress slowly being undone, and you knew Freddie was behind you.

“Hmmm? Yeah go on...” his mindless response made you chuckle, for you knew where this was heading.

“Anyways, I’m really alright with th ...” you suddenly paused, “....that”. You were suddenly aware of the tight claps of your bra as it was finally loosened, when he unhooked it.

“Hmmm...”

In a concentrated world of his own, Freddie went ahead to brush your hair upfront. Your skin  was rife with life with his feathery kisses landing on the back of your neck.

“So...how about...” shivering, you continued , “you?”  

Holding on to the pantry, you were fully distracted from your previous engagement, “Things still sour with Ozzy?” You struggled to form that question with all your might when his kisses descended down to the your now exposed back.

“Yeah....not much has changed with that selfish bugger...” he muttered on to your skin. You sighed, slowly turning to face him.

“I’m sorry Freddie...” you said, stroking his cheek, “he might think highly of Jimmy now. But it won’t last forever...”

“Yeah well... let’s not talk about that fuckin’ geezer...when I’m here with you. Come here-”

With his hands on your waist, he kissed you on the lips.You were clearly reminded of the magic you shared with him the moment the lips touched.

As the magic sustained, those hands skillfully wandered back, tightly holding on to the openings of your dress. And in one clean motion , you felt him pull your dress down, the unhooked bra catching up, until you remained in just your underwear. Giggling into the kiss, you were definitely not surprised.

“Awwww...hello darlings...” Freddie cried out affectionately, his eyes moving over to your bare breasts. Brushing your hair back, you offered him a better view. “Fuckin’ hell...” you watched him lick his lips,“I missed these so much I even fuckin’ dreamt of them...” leaning forward, your head titled to the side as you felt him kiss your jawline. He was indeed serious, quickly cupping your left breast with his right hand, his palm encircling your nipple until it grew hard. All this,  you were no stranger to. It was merely one of the things he enjoyed,and you certainly didn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?”

He pulled away from your neck, the moment you asked him that. You may be fine not seeing him for a while, but it did not encompass your insecurities about his feelings for you.

His left hand that remained on your waist suddenly disappeared, grabbing your face only to kiss you once again. You felt your entire body de solidify when his kiss grew intense. You wanted to take all those words back when his tongue entwined with yours, deepening it within seconds.

“Every ...fucking ...day babe” he breathed. Excitedly, you bit your lower lip upon his satisfactory response. Finally your hunger were on par with his.

“You know...”

“Hmmm?”

“It has been a while...” you purred, guiding his hand from your face, over to your buttocks, “since we-Ahh...” gasping, you felt a dose of pleasure when he took your nipple between his fingers, “...fooled around on the pantry” you moaned, immersed in arousal as his fingers rolled the hardened bud.

Chuckling low in victory, Freddie gave it a playful pull, making it swollen and red. Once he savored your moan which followed, he kissed you hungrily, showing his approval before lifting you up, placing you firmly on the pantry top to begin your lustful escapade.

6 months. You couldn’t believe you didn’t know of him, you didn’t know of this bliss 6 months before.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(6 months ago)

A zombie would have approved of the way you stepped into the pub, for it was a spot on imitation.The pub was almost deserted, and fortunately you preferred it that way. How else would it mirror your emotions? Sliding into a bar stool, your heavy sigh signaled the bartender of your arrival.

The vodka you ordered did not seem to help one bit, leading you to take another sip with a larger volume. You wished you could melt away just like the alcohol that melted away in your tongue. In the midst of all the melancholy, you were suddenly startled when a figure sat right next to you.

“Oi! Billy...the usual, mate”

This voice, it hinted somewhat of an attractive tone. It was the tone you liked. And as you stealthily turned your head to lay your eyes on him, you knew your instincts were not mistaken. His half opened shirt showed off the gold chain around his neck. And the way he scratched his ear, gave his rings and piercing quite the attention. But nevertheless, he looked appealing. He was handsome in your eyes, and you knew you weren’t the only one who stood by this. And all the sudden, you felt aware of yourself.

“You like what you see, babe?”

Eyes widened, you were now definitely aware of how he caught you staring.

“Oh!” turning away in an instant “I’m sorry...that was rude” you said weakly. He chuckled.

“Ohhh...naaahhh” he shook his hand in the air“it’s alright, it’s a free country, innit Billy?” He said, looking at the bartender.

You chuckled, feeling more at ease. It seems you haven’t screwed up yet.

“So...” the man began, “...what’s a beauty like you...” he continued, pointing at you, “doing here alone..at a time like this?”

The mere fact he acknowledged you as beautiful was a progressive step forward. And it cheered you up even more.

“Well...this ‘beauty’ just got fired”you said, raising your glass “Here’s to no future!”

“Awww fuckin hell...” with a dejected tone, he turned to  you “ I’m sorry love” he said, to which you responded with shrugged shoulders,  “Billy...another round for her..on me”

Heart wrapped in warmth, you looked up from your glass, “Thanks”

Along with the second round, came in introductions, and more excuses for conversation.

“So...what were you doing?”

“I was a hairdresser” you said, “at Lola’s”

“Blimey...is that right?” He asked with surprise. You nodded with a smile.

“Uh huh” you uttered, making you sad later on.

“Well,...”he began,“it’s a fuckin pity they lost themselves a great employee..” he said, lighting up his cigar during.

“Heheh you don’t know that” you said, with your elbows on the table “for all you may know, I might have been the worst one”

“Nahhh...you know what? I don’t believe you” he stubbornly disagreed, as his piercing gaze caught your attention.

“Well...” You muttered, “then I won’t stop you”  you smiled.

Looking back at him, you realized you’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as his. And how they held their own against those luscious lips he owned. Thick, inviting and very kissable.

Funny, your thoughts even went that far.

When you went home that night, your stomach ached from laughter, your jaw ached from smiling the entire evening. But your heart didn’t ache, for it was lifted. For you made a friend out of Freddie Jackson.

Your heart continued to remain lifted when the your phone rang frantically the next evening. With its shrill tone, it urged you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Y/N...” that tone echoed in your ear, “Hello babe...”. You squealed in glee.

“Freddieeee...” you cried out, “oh...how are you?” You asked, holding on to the phone “I was just thinking about you...”

“Oh yeah?” He sounded pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah...” your reply was instant “Oh Freddie...I got my old job back!”  

“Fuckin’Hell you serious?” He exclaimed. You nodded, “I am ...”. His chuckle through the line made your heart sing.

“Well congratulations babe...”

“Thank you...” your tone grew soft. “Hey..why don’t you come over tomorrow?” You said, leaning on the pantry “I’ll cook ya something” you said, excitement filling your bloodstream.

“You sure I won’t choke to death now?” Freddie asked teasingly. You giggled.

“Very funny ...you won’t cause ...I'm actually quite good”

“Really now?” You involuntarily nodded to his curiosity, “Fuck! My mouth is watering just thinking about it”

Suddenly that tone his, held you by the hand and took you somewhere. Somewhere quite dirty. Suddenly you imagined his eyes washing over you, as if you were the mouthwatering meal.

“Oh um uh...heheheh” you struggled with your response, for you were too busy blushing “...well I’ll see you tomorrow”

The moment you hung up you knew impatience was to rule the day.

Your heart couldn’t stop racing with excitement as you waited for him “tomorrow”. You clearly  remembered how you impatiently floated your way towards the door the moment knocks made themselves known.

Although, when you opened the door you were faced with a man who did not look as joyful as you. Instead, there he stood, feeling his own pulse, looking lost.

You swore your heart sank.

“Freddie?” You asked softly, “What’s the matter?”

Wiping his eyes with his fingers, he cleared his throat.

“Nothing babe...I’m fine” he forced himself a grin. You were not entirely convinced.  However, you didn’t want to force your way in either. Nevertheless, there he was right in front of you.

Little did he expect you to surprise him by wrapping your arms around him, pulling into an embrace.

“ I am...so glad you’re here...” you breathed into his shoulder, “ ever since I met you I...I feel happier. My life...seems better”

His grip tightened around you.

“Me too, babe”

The shivers you felt running down your spine were indeed real. When you felt him slowly take a whiff of your hair, that heart of yours suddenly remembered to race again. Ready, set, go. There it was.

Pulling away slowly, you looked up shyly to find Freddie’s lips staring at you.Those lips always looked good. But up close, oh! so much better.  

“Did anyone ever tell you...” those lips began to  form words, “...how fucking good you smell?”

“No...” you whispered, hypnotized. You wanted to kiss him. With all your heart. They were calling out to you.

Before you could inhale, Freddie moved in swiftly, snatching your hopeful lips with his hypnotizing ones. How relieved you were to know he felt the same. As you pulled him in, you knew he’d wholeheartedly agree to the events that will follow.

You were never shy with the idea of lust or the pleasures of the flesh, but that was it. They were interesting, experiential and stimulating; but in the end of the day, you were empty. For love never bothered to get to know you. But that night, when you saw him, when you held him, when he conversed with you through words and touch, you you felt the presence of something you never felt before. You felt love.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(The next morning)

When he exited the building, he did it with a swagger full of pride. He certainly welcomed the morning looking refreshed and ready. Wearing a toothy grin, he turned back to find you joining him outside.

Hands were enveloped tightly, and greetings were exchanged inaudibly. All before he held your face lovingly, to plant a kiss that would almost last the entire day. Satisfied, you could not help but utter words of affection to him, when he stared in to your eyes with longing.

With a chuckle, the hands quickly parted, allowing yours to wave back at him as you ran to catch the bus. All the while he stood there, lighting his cigarette, eyes glued to your disappearing figure until he finally left for business.

All this, she watched. And as she did, fidgeting seemed non-existent for a few minutes for she was busy holding her breath. Proceeding to bite her manicured nails, Jackie Jackson could not believe what she witnessed just then.

———————————————————————

PART 2 HERE

Tagged: @starlightmornings @rogerfxckingtaylor

Wanna get TAGGED?

Check my MASTERLIST for more.

[morelike-bi-light]

Bingo Fic: Leah/Victoria Fluff

So, this took literally forever to write - which is weird since it's the fic that was by far the easiest to plan out. At least part of it is because the wifi in my new apartment and my computer have a vehement distaste for one another. So I typed it on my computer and copied it into my phone. Anyways! I promised 500 word fics to the first people to fill out my bingo sheet a long while ago, and @effervescent-emmett was one of them! I love you, dude, and thank you for being so patient. And thank you for requesting Leahtoria, which is my heart and soul. It was so much fun to write when I finally got the chance. And I'm pretty sure this is longer than 500 words if that makes up for the lost time. It also definitely fits into the larger Victoria and Bree Cullen AUverse. Hope you like it and again, ilysm.

🖤🐈🧡

She doesn't know how long she sits there, legs crossed and back against the couch, staring at the side of that open cardboard box in the center of the coffee table. The box is white, with thick swishes and stripes of sky blue against which 'We deliver!' is spelt out in chunky block letters.

"What is wrong with you?"

Rosalie's tone wavers between awe and disbelief, and if she didn't know any better, Victoria would mistake her for impressed. As it is, she's pretty sure she's just amazed at the new levels of stupidity reached by her own - well, not flesh and blood, but sister. It seems all eternity has provided her is unlimited opportunities to break her own records.

Victoria groans, slumping over on the table and hiding behind her hands. Normally, she'd have some quip prepared, something about her being what's wrong, or there being something wrong with Emmett for somebody cool like him to see something in her – it doesn't have to be believable, just rude – but she just doesn't have the faculties to be eloquent at the moment.

"I don't know," she says instead, shrugging helplessly. "I don't know."

"Because there must be something wrong with you–"

"I know."

"–if you think that..." Even as she points an accusatory finger at the box, Rosalie keeps her appendage close to her chest, as if she's worried getting too close will make her catch the crazy. "... is a good idea."

"I know."

She really does. Victoria tucks an orange curl slipping from her ponytail behind her ear, screwing up her mouth. Slowly, she straightens up, sitting on her haunches, and peers into the open box.

"But look at them," she scowls. "They're pathetic."

Four tiny eyes - one pair gold, the other green - peer back at her from fuzzy, feline faces. The black one squints and meows, like he knows he's been insulted.

"Jesus Christ," Rosalie mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"It's true!" Victoria insists. Brows furrowed, she dips her hand in and scoops up the first fluffy tube to stumble into her hand, lifting it up on display with both hands. The little white calico blinks up at their visitor, paws extended and shoulders hiked up to her little triangle ears, not unlike a zombie. "How are they supposed to hunt for themselves like this? They can't."

"That's what the mother is for." Rosalie crosses her arms and raises a stern brow. "Find the mom. Give them back."

Grimacing, Victoria shakes her head, gently – if a bit awkwardly – placing the kitten back in its makeshift pen.

"Trust me, I'd love to," she mutters, eyes sliding away.

Rosalie's gaze narrows. "And yet?"

"Well," she starts, "Bree and Esme went out for a quick hunt this morning..." The look on her sister's face stops her.

"Oh, no."

"Yeah. Bree's pretty, uh, bummed out about it. So I told her I'd go back and grab the poor thing's kids."

"For God's sake," Rosalie mutters, but her expression is concerned. Then she sighs. "Still, you can't expect them to stay here of all places."

"I'm not that stupid," Victoria grumbled. "Alice helped me find homes for the other three. She took two for the hospital and one to visit Charlie at the station. But there were two left, and I don't have a lot of options, so–"

"Wait," Rosalie sniffs, whipping towards the woods, then snaps back to fix a surprised stare on her sister. "Is that your little werewolf girlfriend?"

"Like I was saying–"

"I thought dogs and cats don't mix."

Victoria rolls her eyes, but she sits back on the couch, shifting nervously. "Would you get out already? I've got this. I'll figure it out."

"I'll hold you to that," she mutters, as she turns on her heel. "Fine, I'm leaving. Keep your pets off the furniture."

"I'm not responding to that," Victoria mumbles, and her sister vanishes just in time for Leah to emerge from the treeline, jogging over to back porch as she makes a last ditch effort to smooth out any tangles in her hair. Her dark stare is soft in the sunlight, creasing gently as her lips stretch into a fond grin. Victoria starts smiling, starts running without even realizing it, suddenly painfully aware of the ache in her stony chest that always creeps in when they've been apart too long. Yanking open the door and leaping forward, she snatches her love into her arms and spins, burying her lips in the crook of her warm neck. Yelping and giggling, Leah wraps her legs around her waist and her arms around her neck, leaning away from her girlfriend's cold nose.

"Warn a girl, would you? I'm ticklish!" She snorts, and though she makes a show of pouting, the redhead obliges and sets her down, hands moving to rest on the small of her back. Her petulance only elicits a smirk in response. "So I take it you missed me?"

"Who would have thought four days could last so long?" Victoria groans, resting her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. "You know I'm so happy and proud of you – you deserve nothing less and way more – but I'd be just as proud if your publisher ran its business out of, I don't know, Canada."

"Aww," Leah hums. "If it helps, San Diego was nice, but it was pretty boring without you."

Victoria straightens and shrugs, trying to hide the way her mouth curls in satisfaction. "A little, maybe."

"A little," Leah nods, smothering her own smile.

Victoria's about to ask how the meeting went, if her editor was nice, when the shifter stiffens, blinking. She turns her head towards the house, mouth pursed, then slowly looks back at her girlfriend.

"Hey... is there a reason why your family's house smells like cats?" She asks, brows creased quizzically.

Going still, Victoria glances between her girlfriend and the door, mouth poised to answer but no sound coming out. After a moment, she reluctantly lets go of Leah's middle, gently removing the arms around her neck and sliding her right hand into Leah's left.

"There was an incident, this morning," she starts, then pauses, searching for the right words. "I have something strange to ask you."

"Okay... I'm listening."

"Do you... have room for a couple of cats?"

"In my apartment?"

"And your heart," Victoria teases, trying for a cheesy smile, but pulling off what feels more like a grimace.

"Are you serious?" For a second, Leah just looks at her, eyes roaming her features like she isn't totally sure she's real, but then she sighs. "Shit. Alright, lead the way."

From Leah, that's actually exactly the response she was hoping for. Hiding a smirk, Victoria pulls her girlfriend in the direction of the mewing box of furry babies, wisely declining to respond when she laments the irony of being born a 'cat person'. And it's true – the second the Clearwater lays eyes on them, you can physically see her fate being sealed. It's pretty adorable, really. She melts in their teeny presences, tucking them close to her chest and planting quick, sneaky kisses on their foreheads as she spouts off her supposedly limited wealth of cat knowledge.

"I'm such a sucker," she laments after fifteen minutes of fawning. She lifts the black kitty up to her face and he licks her nose. "I'm a fool. I deserve this."

Worried what kind of romantic goop will come out if she tried to respond verbally, Victoria just nods, love in her eyes and the fiestiest calico on the planet gnawing fruitlessly on her pinkie.

"And you don't mind this little guy?" Leah asks with a wry glance. The lapse in her attention frustrates the orphan occupying her lap, and soon she's given into the black kitten's insistent mewing and nudging with careful head scratches. "I mean, black cats were said to be bad omens in your day."

"Or witches." She takes a moment to reflect on this, before shrugging. "So were redhead girls who played near the woods."

For a second, she feels her age acutely. She avoids Leah's eyes, thoughtfully running her fingers through the calico's fur, observing quietly as she attempts to knead at her leg. The kitten grows increasingly frustrated as her claws pierce through denim only to scrabble against what may as well be marble. A warm weight settles on Victoria's shoulder, and she leans into it, burying her nose in Leah's dark hair.

"So were women who loved each other, right? And I love you," she murmurs. "So, okay, screw it. More fun to be 'wicked' together."

"A lot more fun," Victoria smirks, turning to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, but Leah frowns, tapping her nose before it can go any further.

"Not in front of the children," she scolds. "Speaking of which, what are we gonna name these little gremlins?"

Victoria huffs, then looks over the gremlins in question, starting with the one furiously pushing her claws into her jeans in an increasingly erratic rhythm. "I don't know. Spot?"

The suggestion earns her a look of disbelief. "That's a dog name."

"Jake is also a dog name."

"Shut up."

"I like Spot," Victoria insists, "and she's on my lap. I think that gives me naming rights."

"Naming rights." Leah rolls her eyes, before gluing them back to the animal in her own lap. "Okay, fine. We have Spot. Now we just need to figure out this little guy."

"Well, he's on your lap. So the responsibility falls to you."

"Lucky for him," Leah mutters under her breath, then pauses. "What about... Lucky?"

"Huh." Victoria blinks. The corners of her mouth start to twitch. "For our little bad omen?"

Leah shrugs, stroking a finger along his cheek. The purr it drags out is loud enough to startle Spot into looking up from her work on distressing her name-giver's denim. "Yeah, what do you think?"

Victoria looks at the cat in question, who looks back with pleased, gold slits.

"Hey, Lucky," she says. "Meet your sister, Spot."

"And the weirdest parents you could have possible hoped for," Leah laughs, shaking her head.

"Happy-weird," Victoria corrects her.

"Right. Happy-weird."

🖤🐈🧡

And, so it turns out, to the eternal amusement of the entire Olympic Coven – but especially Emmett – that Leah and Victoria are both cat people. Fun fact, immediately after I wrote that bit about Leah teasing Victoria for picking a dog's name, I got excited about naming their black cat Pluto because I thought it was a cute and fitting name. Only to realize a couple lines later that Pluto, is in fact, a very famous dog's name. But lucky - ha! - for me, a cuter name came to me anyway. Oh, sorry for the long post, by the way - I can't figure out how to do Read More on mobile. Okay, two down, two to go! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed, guys!

[kagehinataboke]

hey! i recently red your zombie au tdbk and it was actually so so so good, even if it was so short!! so with your new prompts, i was like "hm, how about tdbk dystopian au that would be awesome" and tbh, i just watched snk so i was dying to read something dystopian with tdbk. and if i had to put it with anither trope, uhh, idk, maybe war au?? hm. yeah. that´s it. c: 17 + 21 tdbk, kisses!!

aww thank you babe! c: this is probably totally not the direction you were expecting, but i was like ‘soldier todobaku? SOLDIER TODOBAKU’ so this was born. but it’s still got a v dystopian background! uwu

also i made this super long oops

tdbk: [21] Dystopian AU and [17] War AU

***

“Does anyone here know their way around a rifle? Yes, cadet? Demonstrate for us.” A moment of silence passes before Aizawa slams his fist against the table. “Wrong. You’re already dead, soldier. Corpses are feasting on your chest cavity. It shouldn’t take you longer than fifteen seconds to load a rifle. First Sergeant Todoroki will demonstrate for you. Sergeant Yaoyorozu, go find him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is bullshit,” Bakugou mutters to Kirishima, the cadet who just got ripped on by Sergeant Major Aizawa. “Do they expect us to be robots? I came here to fight corpses, not to be a cookie-cutter soldier. As if anyone is perfect enough—“

“Oh my god, look at him,” one of the female recruits suddenly whispers. “I think I’m pregnant now. Holy shit.”

“Holy fucking shit,” Bakugou echoes, adding in the necessary extra expletive.

He’s heard talk of the deadly accurate combat sniper, Todoroki Shouto, before, but he’s never seen him. And holy fucking shit, he looks like a chiseled marble statue. He enters the practice room shirtless with a towel slung over his granite shoulder, wiping sweat from his forehead. His hair looks like a field of red-and-white roses.

“What is it?” Jesus, his voice. “I was in the middle of combat training, Aizawa.”

“Not my problem,” the Sergeant Major dismisses. “None of these space cadets know how to load a rifle properly. It won’t take you long to demonstrate.”

Todoroki’s heterochromatic eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue. Throwing the towel to Sergeant Yaoyorozu, he picks up the discarded rifle on the card table and reloads it in four seconds flat, handing it to Aizawa with a glare. Maybe he’s got some fight in him, after all.

“How did he do that?” Kirishima mutters, anxiety creeping into his voice. “We’re not expected to do it that fast, are we?”

“I think he did it that way on purpose,” Bakugou whispers back, watching Todoroki and Aizawa bicker quietly. “He doesn’t seem to be a team player.”

“Figures,” Kirishima replies. “Haven’t you heard of him? He hates working with everyone, and he has trouble yielding to authority.”

Bakugou smirks. “My kind of guy. I’m gonna talk to him. It wouldn’t hurt to have friends in high places.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Kirishima eyes the glowering Todoroki nervously. “He looks like he could eat you alive. I’d rather take my chances in the dead zones.”

“He’s a person, not a corpse, Kirishima.” Bakugou smacks the timid recruit on the shoulder. “You won’t get anywhere if you don’t try to piss off as many people as you can.”

“That’s not even close to the real saying…”

“Shut up. It looks like he’s gonna storm out.”

As predicted, Todoroki turns his back on a scowling Aizawa. He leaves the rifle on the table and disappears back into the hall, back muscles tensed. Fuck, Bakugou can’t believe he actually just noticed that. But by god, he’s still going to talk to that asshole, even if it kills him.

***

It’s much harder to find Todoroki Shouto alone than Bakugou thought it would be. Between meals and combat training sessions, it’s impossible to get close to him. Of course, Bakugou is at the bottom of the barrel right now. Todoroki teaches a class to Sergeant ranks, and Bakugou obviously isn’t one.

Still, his determination pays off. It’s been raining all day, so all training courses have been canceled. Most of the other cadets are headed back to the barracks to play card games, but Bakugou sneaks away as soon as he sees Todoroki leaving the compound. They’re technically not allowed to do that, but the rules are fucking stupid, anyway. It’s the apocalypse, not a college entrance exam.

Todoroki heads out past the fences bordering the inner compound and into the courtyard, which is only occasionally used for running. Bakugou thinks he might be headed for the dead zone, but he takes a left just before the quarantine zone begins, disappearing into an old guard tower. After shaking the water from his hair, Bakugou follows him up.

He loses sight of him somewhere on the third set of stairs and has to stop to reconsider his actions. He followed Todoroki without really thinking, but it’s creepy to just confront him out of nowhere. He should probably just go back and find a different time to—

A foot lands squarely on Bakugou’s back, sending him crashing into the wall of the stairwell. “What the fuck.”

“Why are you following me?” Todoroki demands, pressing his arm against Bakugou’s throat. His eyes are two distinct storms of thunder clouds and ice water. “I recognize you,” he continues, tightening his grip. “You’re a new recruit. What do you think you’re doing?”

Fuck, this is so hot… But he can’t say that. Bakugou ignores every brain cell in his head and wheezes, “I just wanted to talk to you.” He almost immediately wishes Todoroki would crack his windpipe and kill him. This is not a time for honesty.

“What?” Todoroki is predictably confused. His eyes shift, but his body remains stiff. He really is the perfect soldier. “For what reason do you want to talk to me?”

Bakugou swallows thickly. He has to make something up, and fast. “I wanted to ask you for help,” he decides. “Let go of my shirt.”

“Help?” Todoroki repeats, hesitantly releasing him. He seems a bit surprised to be addressed so informally. “You’re asking a First Sergeant for help with Private-level training?”

“Whatever you are doesn’t matter to me,” Bakugou tells him, straightening out his collar. “You just seem less uptight than the other assholes here. And you’re fucking pretty… good at loading a rifle.” Wow. Nice save, Katsuki. Really.

“Oh, I see.” It’s shocking how fast Todoroki visibly relaxes. “You should’ve just approached me normally. I don’t bite.”

I wish you did. “Oh, yeah?” Bakugou’s coughs, biting his tongue to keep it PG. “So you’ll help me out, then?”

“Of course.”

***

Bakugou really didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Training with Todoroki is long, vigorous, and worryingly full of sexual tension. But maybe that’s just from his perspective. What kind of person does everything shirtless, anyway? It’s not good for his poor heart.

“Tired already?” Todoroki wipes sweat from his forehead. A drop escapes, sliding down his neck to disappear beneath his collar. The one day he wears a shirt…

“In your dreams,” Bakugou grumbles, forcing his mind out of the gutter. He straightens up to flick off his own sweat. “I could go all day.”

They both pause, and Todoroki is the first to look away, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “We should cut it short for today. There’s a big mission for trainees tomorrow, so you need your rest.”

Bakugou sighs as soon as he disappears into the hall. It’s been tense like this lately. They’ve only been practicing together for two weeks, but the mentor/student relationship has already started to crumble. They make eye-contact in the halls and actually acknowledge each other; they sit together during free time; they even share food sometimes. To simplify things, Bakugou is totally fucked.

This may not be the real military, but it’s a tough thing. While combat romances aren’t exactly forbidden, Bakugou guesses the higher-ups wouldn’t take so kindly to a Private sleeping with a First Sergeant. They could always try to be secretive about it, but it’s impossible to hide things when there’s nowhere to be alone. Other than that old guard tower, of course, but doing it there is kind of…

No. Bakugou shouldn’t even be entertaining this stupid thought. He’s supposed to be here training to kill corpses, not having schoolgirl crushes on hot commanding officers. But… He can’t help how he feels. How his chest aches when they’re together. How his skin sings when Todoroki corrects his stance. How he stays up late at night, mind full of beautifully deceiving ‘what-ifs.’

In the end, Bakugou never gave a damn about the rules, anyway. That’s what he tells himself to feel less weak about caving after only a month of hopeless pining. Here he is, dangling his legs over the top of the abandoned guard tower, waiting for Todoroki to show up. In hindsight, he probably should’ve invited him rather than counting on his eventual appearance. But it’s too late now, isn’t it? He’s sitting here, and he’ll stay here until that bastard comes.

Fate must be smiling at him for once, because not five minutes later, Todoroki sticks his head around the stairwell. “Bakugou? This is where you’ve been?”

Bakugou keeps his eyes on the broken cityscape far below. “I was waiting for you.” He waits until Todoroki’s weight settles beside him to continue. “We need to talk.”

Unexpectedly, Todoroki replies, “Yes, we do. But you can go first.”

“Okay?” Bakugou clears his throat nervously. “Well… I’ve been noticing lately— That is, I’ve noticed for a while that—“ He pauses. “Fuck. I don’t know how to say it.”

“Should I go, then? Or maybe we should go at the same time?”

Uh… sure, I guess.”

“Let’s count to three then. One…”

“Two?”

“…Three.”

“I fucking like you.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

There’s silence between them for one, two, three long seconds. Bakugou looks at Todoroki with his eyebrows raised. “Wait… What did you say?”

“Did you really… not hear it?” Todoroki scratches his neck with a cute, tiny cough. Bakugou can’t believe he used to see this guy as a super-soldier.

“I heard it. Are you serious?”

Todoroki’s face pales. “So… you’re not happy about it? Did I read something wrong?”

If Bakugou is honest, he’s surprised this dense bastard ‘read’ anything at all. He was only confessing in the first place because he was sure Todoroki would never realize on his own. But here he is, a kicked puppy, having proclaimed his own love. Is this real?

“You’re reading this all wrong,” Bakugou says, cursing when Todoroki’s face falls even more. “Fuck, no… I mean, I like you, okay? I literally just said I did.”

“You do?” That thing they say about happy people glowing has never been more applicable. Not that Todoroki didn’t glow before, but it’s even brighter now. “My feelings are reciprocated, then?”

“Obviously, fucking idiot.” Bakugou catches himself before adding even more curse words. “I had no idea you liked me back.”

“I did my best to hide it. I didn’t want to get you in trouble, or for people to think you were trying to get special treatment.” Todoroki shifts closer, bumping their knees together. “In the end, I couldn’t stop how I was feeling. How I still feel. I decided it was best to tell you.”

They’ve been suffering through the same thing, then. Bakugou almost can’t believe it. And, of course, there’s still plenty to worry about. Their feelings are mutual, but they’ll have to hide a relationship from an entire military compound. It won’t be easy.

Todoroki’s fingers intertwine with his, throwing Bakugou’s doubts right off the side of the guard tower. He’s smiling, this dim-witted asshole. He isn’t worried at all, is he? “I suppose I should formally ask you, then…”

Bakugou tells his heart to shut the fuck up before replying, “Ask me what?”

“Will you become mine?”

“Wh—“ Bakugou chokes on a laugh, but his face is steaming red. “What’s with that? Where’d you even learn that wording?”

“On an old TV drama.” Todoroki moves his hand to the other side of Bakugou’s hip, so their foreheads are nearly touching. “But I’m serious. The question remains.”

The wind whistles through the open tower, accompanied by the creak of chain-link fence. Bakugou can hear nothing but the wailing sound and the rapid-fire pounding of his heart. The answer is obvious. It’s been obvious from the start. Leaning forward, Bakugou kisses him, etching his ‘yes’ into Todoroki’s tastebuds.

The world is fucked, that’s for sure—but in the here and now, life seems pretty damn good.

[tonystarkstan]

you’re still young (that’s not your fault)

Summary: Being a superhero? Hard. Being a superhero in high school? Harder. Luckily, he’s got Iron Man on his side.

or, five times Tony goes to Peter’s school and one time Peter goes with him to work.

Note: This is posted on my AO3, but it’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, so I thought I’d share it here! I hope you guys like it.

“So like, the issue is that I like learning and I need to go to school to get a good education in order to be qualified for an actual career,” Peter tells Ned as they stand at their lockers.

“How is that an issue?” Ned asks in confusion.

Peter sighs dramatically. “I hate school,” he says, as if that explains everything.

Ned nods sympathetically. “Makes sense. Oh, the joys of social hierarchy. Also, I forgot the solubility rules, so I totally bombed that part of the quiz today. Which means I’m probably going to fail, which means I’ll be kicked out of school, which means I’ll have to work at McDonald’s for the rest of my life and live off of a minimum wage salary.”

Peter pats his back consolingly. “You and me both, man. School just proves what we already knew: the world is conspiring against us.”

Ned scoffs. “Okay, but at least you have Spider-Man,” he points out, saying the name quietly so no one overhears.

Peter gives him a weird look. “Oh yeah, loved getting bitten by a fucking radioactive spider. It was like getting a kiss from Mother Nature.”

Ned shrugs. “Who cares? You’re staying with Tony freaking Stark. How is that, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s great!” he says enthusiastically. “The man has, like, zero parenting skills, so I get to eat whatever I want, and we just stay in his lab all night.”

“Dude, your life is so not real,” Ned says incredulously. “Have you heard from May?”

“Yeah, she said she’ll probably be home this weekend. I think she feels bad, but her work really needed extra hands with the hurricane relief, so it’s fine.”

“Gotcha. Hey, what do you – whoa!” Ned exclaims. “What’s going on?”

As they turn the corner, as large mass of students clogs the hall, all trying to peer over each other to get a look at whatever’s caught their attention. Before Ned and Peter can get any closer, though, the crowd parts down the middle by a seemingly invisible force.

That is, until Tony Stark steps through.

As usual, he’s wearing a three-piece suit, his trademark sunglasses, and in his hands is – what the fuck? – a Spider-Man lunchbox.

Tony’s eyes lands on the pair of them, and he casually makes his way over to them, as if Iron Man walking through a high school is normal.

“Hey, Pete! I was just looking for you,” he informs Peter.

“Hi, uh, Mr. Stark. Um. Hi. What are you, uh, doing here?” he asks, trying to ignore all the blatant stares that are now focused on them.

“What? A billionaire can’t just come by to see his favorite mentee?” He’s smirking though, and Peter knows the superhero is taking great pleasure out of embarrassing him.

“No,” he retorts flatly.

Tony puts his hand on his chest dramatically. “Oh, how you wound me. Betrayed! By one of my very own! What ever did I do to deserve such treatment?”

“Jesus Christ,” Peter mutters. “What do you want? Ned and I were just about to head to lunch.”

“Ah ha! And that is where I come in. I am, as usual, here to save the day.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and gives him an unimpressed look. Tony huffs. “Sheesh, tough crowd to please, apparently.” He holds out the lunchbox. “Lunch. You left your’s.”

Peter thinks back, suddenly remembering that oh yeah, he definitely did leave his lunch on the counter. However, it’d been in his old Star Wars lunchbox that he’d had as long as he could remember.

Noticing his look, Tony gestures to the bag. “I took the liberty of getting you an upgrade. We all know how much you like Spider-Man.”

Yup, I’m definitely filling his Iron Man helmet with ramen noodles now.

“Wow. Thanks,” he says, sounding anything but. He takes the bag gingerly. “Now I won’t starve. A true hero you are. Really living up to your name.”

Tony pretends to blush. “You’re too kind. I’m just here as a completely selfless act of service.”

“Sure. So, can you, like, leave?” Peter says impatiently.

Tony shoots him an affronted look. “Well, I know when I’m not welcome. Which, let’s be honest, never actually happens because I’m a famous genius billionaire. But I really do have to get going.”

“Oh, thank god,” Peter breathes. Tony laughs and ruffles the kid’s hair, knowing it’s all in jest.

“See ya later, kid.” He turns to Ned. “And you – be sure he actually eats it.” Ned looks like he’s about to faint. And with that, Tony turns on his heel and struts out, leaving behind a bunch of astonished high schoolers. Peter’s pretty sure Flash’s jaw is about to hit the floor.

After a second of stunned silence, Ned looks over at Peter and smirks. “What was it you were saying earlier about ‘zero parenting skills’?”

Peter groans. “Shut up.”

Ned’s laughter is drowned out by the mass of students headed excitedly in their direction.

-

“Dude, you look like shit,” is how Ned greets him.

Peter doesn’t even have the energy to be offended. He certainly feels like shit, flashes of hot and cold racing through his body and forehead beading with sweat.

“It’s fine, we’re fine,” Peter says, not at all reassuringly.

“Yeah, okay,” Ned scoffs. “Why are you even here?”

Peter sags against his locker tiredly. “We’re supposed to be going over Shell integration and the Trapezoidal rule in calc today. I can’t afford to miss it. Also, we have decathlon practice after school today and MJ will kill me if I miss it. Again.”

He startles when a light slap meets the back of his head.

“Speak for yourself, loser. We don’t want your disease,” MJ says from behind him.

“Sorry, May raised me to always share,” Peter jokes. “Anywho, it’s too late for me to go home now. May’s already left for work. What a shame.”

MJ just rolls his eyes but Ned tosses him a doubtful look.

“Come on!” Peter protests. “Seriously, I don’t even feel that bad!”

Three class periods later, Peter’s more than ready to retract his earlier statement. He definitely feels that bad.

He’s in the middle of Anatomy class, and he can’t, for the life of him, keep his head up. His muscles are aching just with the small bit of effort it’s taking to use an arm to prop his head up, and he’s so, so hot but can’t seem to stop quivering.

At this point, he’s completely tuned out the teacher, entirely focused on trying to keep himself from throwing up in the middle of class because God knows Flash would never let him live that down.

His phone buzzes.

Chair Guy: dude

Chair Guy: you look like an actual zombie

Peter groans internally.

Friendly Neighborhood Peter: thanks.

Chair Guy: hey I have a great idea bc im a genius who goes to a smart kid school!!!!

Chair Guy: go :) home :)

Friendly Neighborhood Peter: no :)

Peter quickly puts his phone away, and he sees Ned shake his head in exasperation. The rest of the class passes by in a cloudy haze of sickness, and he blinks up blearily when a shadowy figure stands in front of him.

“Peter. Peter! Yo. Dude, come on, class is over. Even Dr. Arrington has left,” Ned informs him.

Peter groans, tossing an arm over his eyes with the thought that maybe if he doesn’t look at Ned, he’ll just go away.

No such luck. “Peter, if you don’t get up, I’m calling May.”

Immediately, Peter’s head shoots up, and he winces as the dull throb in his head intensifies.

“You can’t! She’s at work, her phone’s off anyway because she’s not allowed to be on it. Plus, I still have Calc! And Decathlon!” he protests, but even he can hear how weak it sounds.

Ned just rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure at this point, MJ would kick your ass if you showed up to practice. Go home and we’ll all send you a ‘Thank You’ card.”

Peter swats at him weakly.

“Peter, seriously. We gotta go,” Ned says, hoisting Peter’s bookbag onto his back. “Think you can get up?”

The vigilante stares at him blankly. Ned sighs.

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles to himself. “We are not fucking doing this.” Louder, he says, “Peter, give me your phone.”

The exhausted teen tiredly reaches into his pocket, groaning at how heavy an achy his arms are. He hands his friend the phone. If he were more aware of what’s going on, he ‘d be much more suspicious. However, at the moment, Peter wants nothing more than for his friend to stop talking so the pounding in his head will cease.

“Thank you. Stay here for a second,” Ned tells him, and Peter doesn’t even question it. Not like he could move even if he wanted to.

Maybe I can Uber to my Spanish class, his feverish brain thinks.

He’s not actually sure how long he drifts in and out of clarity, but at some point, he opens his eyes to feel a gentle hand carding its way through his hair, and he instinctively leans in towards it.

“Hey, Pete,” a soft voice says. It’s a nice voice, Peter thinks. Not too rough, but just enough gravel in it to create a low comforting sound. And it’s… vaguely familiar.

Peter lowers his eyebrows in confusion and wills his eyes to open – when did he even close them? – so he can see the owner of the familiar voice.

“There we go. He’s alive! A true miracle.”

Peter nearly closes his eyes again, because obviously he’s still dreaming. There is no way that Tony freaking Stark is kneeling in front of him, stroking his hair, and gently coaxing him awake. Not possible.

“Yeah, it’s me, kiddo,” Tony says, obviously reading the surprise on his face. “To be fair, I’m probably just as surprised at this development as you are, but your friend Ted, here –“ he gestures to said teen who offers nothing more than a shrug “ –called Happy saying that you’re dying, and we just happened to be in the area, and I also happen to be a superhero. So.”

Unreal, Peter thinks, and closes his eyes, ready to let unconsciousness swallow him whole.

“Ah ah – no. Nap time for the spider baby later,” Tony jokes, but Peter cracks his eyes open to see the worry lining his mentor’s face. “I say we blow this popsicle stand.”

Peter nearly sags with relief at how good that sounds. He’d do just about anything to sleep. But then he remembers why he’d been so determined not to stay home in the first place.

“I can’t!” he protests, finally speaking up. “Calc. Integration.”

Tony stares at him in disbelief, and then turns to Ned, who’s still watching the exchange with a look of awe.

“Did he just say what I think he just said?” he asks incredulously.

Ned just gives him a long-suffering look and nods. “Yeah. He’s dumb.”

Tony scoffs. “That’s an overstatement,” he grumbles under his breath. Louder, he says, “Peter, you do realize that you’re literally talking to a genius, right? An actual engineer who literally built a flying suit? And the arc reactor? I think I can teach you some damn calculus. Goodness gracious.”

Peter just blinks at him. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Tony repeats, but he can’t help surge of utter fondness that rushes through him at the sight of the tired kid, still pressing into the hand in his hair.

“Come on. Happy’s waiting for us. I’ve never actually dealt with a sick – anything – before, so this’ll be a great learning experience for the both of us,” Tony says conversationally. He gets up, groaning at the ache in his knees, and takes Peter’s bag from Ned.

Peter immediately lets out a whine at the loss of contact. The noise strikes a chord deep within Tony, and he tries not to think too hard about it.

“Sorry, kid. Come on, up you go,” he encourages, hoisting the kid to his feet. Peter sways tiredly on his feet, and Tony is quick to steady him.

“Whoa, I got you,” Tony soothes. He runs a quick hand over the kid’s forehead and lets out a low whistle at the heat that meets his hand. “Sleep. You need lots of it. So do I, actually. What do you say we get to Happy before the evil man makes us walk?”

Peter smiles weakly and nods, stumbling beside his mentor, thoughts going blurry again as they make their way to the front of the school.

As promised, Happy is waiting for them, and it takes a little while longer to wrestle the kid’s lanky limbs into the car and across the backseat. Again, Peter lets out a whimper at the loss of contact, and Tony coughs to cover the soft smile that’s threatening to appear as he slides in next to the teen.

And if his hands end up back in Peter’s hair?

Well, no one ever has to know.

-

It was a stupid argument, if you could even call it that. Really, it was just Flash being a dumbass, as usual. Which, usually is a thing that Peter can handle – is used to handling – but today is just not one of those days.

Patrol last night had been rough, more mentally taxing than usual. Peter’s not exactly sure what about it made it so, but it left him wired up with an anxiety that followed him into sleep, prompting unwelcome nightmares and flashbacks of a variety he hadn’t experienced in a while.

Truth be told, he knows it’s kind of his own fault. He’s been overworking himself, staying out longer and longer as Spider-Man, coming back by May’s curfew only to sneak out hours later when he hears her breathing even out.

Then he comes back and works on homework and studying, getting a mere two or three hours of fitful sleep, surviving mostly on coffee and pure, stubborn willpower throughout the day. This all does nothing to calm the ever-growing wave of anxiety.

So, to be fair, this was probably a long time coming.

Flash just happened to be the catalyst.

Peter and Ned sat in their usual spot in the cafeteria, Peter comparing his homework answers with Ned’s. When Flash walks up, Peter immediately tenses, already preparing himself for an onslaught of insults.

(And how stupid is that? He’s Spider-Man and yet he’s reduced to nothing at the mercy of a stupid high school bully.)

“Hey, Penis! Ready to get your ass beat in the science fair this weekend?” Flash mocks. And to be honest, Peter finished his project weeks ago in the confines of Tony’s lab, analyzing how robotics can be used to enhance prosthetics and make them more effective and efficient.

And, at this point, he’s so tired, he doesn’t actually care who wins. He never did, really.

“Isn’t ‘Penis’ a little old by now? Surely you can be more inventive than that,” Peter taunts. And yeah, maybe not his smartest move ever, but whatever.

Flash flounders for a second, unsure of how to respond, before his face clears again. “I could, but this one suits you best. It’s kind of iconic, don’t you think?”

“Hey, Flash, you know what’s funny?” Ned steps in suddenly, and Peter groans. “How Peter’s smart enough to land an internship with Stark Industries, and you haven’t even heard back yet.”

Flash flushes with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “Yeah, and how much do you suppose your little sidekick has to pay just to polish Tony Stark’s shoes? You know, there’s actually been speculation that there’s a something a little more – should we say? – kinky going on there,” Flash says with a suggestive smirk, and Peter immediately sees red at the very implication of his hero doing something like that.

“Shut the fuck up, Flash,” Peter snarls angrily, and Flash narrows his eyes at him coldly.

“What was that, Penis?”

Peter stands up, well and truly angry now. “I said ‘Shut up.’ You don’t know anything about him. And I’m sorry you couldn’t get an internship with him when I could, but I guess Stark Industries knows talent when it – “

A sudden flash of cold and wet leaves Peter sputtering. He barely registers the fact that Flash is standing in front of him, the cup in his hand totally empty, because the wave of anxiety that’s been building up the last few days decides then and there to pull Peter under.

No longer is he in his high school cafeteria. No, he’s back in the lake, alone and tangled and trying so hard to break free of his confines. The water is cold, seeps straight to his very bones, and against his will, his lungs take a desperate breath in, but all he gets is more water.

He can’t fucking breathe.

God, what if he dies like this? Just a useless body floating on a lake, and maybe it’ll be days before he’s found, and May – oh god, May! – will be left completely alone to deal with another bout of grieving.

And Peter – god, he doesn’t want to die, he’s not ready to do that yet, he’s supposed to graduate and watch the next Star Wars movie release with Ned and there are so many more people he needs to save, and also he’s just plain scared.

If only he could breathe.

“Peter!”

The unexpected and familiar voice shocks him, and he flails towards it, hoping it’ll bring him closer to the surface.

“I’m right here, bud, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” the voice tells him, and it sounds so convincing and real and soothing that he tries with everything in him to believe it.

“Hey, it’s me – Tony. I’m right next to you, and we’re both in your crappy school cafeteria,” the voice – Tony – informs him, and Peter frowns in confusion because Tony shouldn’t be here, he’s going to drown, too.

“Tony,” he gasps, hands finding purchase in warm fabric. Dry. It’s dry! But – what?

“Yeah, kiddo, it’s me. Open your eyes and look at me. It’s okay, I promise,” Tony coaxes him. And because he’s never had a reason not to trust him mentor, Peter cracks his eyes open, immediately cringing at the water that drips into his eyes.

“That’s it, good job,” Tony encourages, and Peter tries to let the sight of his mentor drown out the feel of water burning his nose.

“Mr. Stark?” he asks in a small voice. “W-what? I-I don’t – “

“Shhh, it’s all fine. You’re at school. You had a pretty bad panic attack. Your aunt wasn’t picking up, so they called me,” Tony explains. Peter takes in everything around him, drinking in the sight of the now completely empty cafeteria, save for him and Tony.

“I didn’t – I didn’t mean – I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, cheeks flushing red with shame. Tony gives him an incredulous look.

“Peter,” he says gently, reaching out to tilt the boy’s face up. “Look at me. You didn’t do anything wrong. You never have to apologize for something like this.” Tony’s gaze darkens suddenly. “The only person who should be apologizing for anything is the childish, cruel, immature bully who did this to you.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest. “No – it wasn’t his fault! He didn’t know that would happen.”

“And that makes it okay?” Tony scoffs. “No, kid. That’s all on him.”

Peter stays silent, not willing to admit the man is right, as usual. Tony studies him for a moment, then lets out a heavy sigh.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks the teen.

“Fine,” Peter lies instinctively. Tony just raises an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know. That – that wasn’t supposed to happen. Usually I have it under control,” he says, looking frustrated.

“It?” Tony prompts.

Peter tugs anxiously on his shoelace. “I guess sometimes I still think about the lake? Because I was tangled and stuck and it was – “ He cuts off, throat closing abruptly. Tony puts a hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

“Scary,” Tony finishes for him. Peter just looks down. Tony sighs again, looking more tired than ever. “Pete, you gotta keep me in the loop with these things. And if not me, then May or Ned or someone you trust. It’s okay to feel like this. Hell, I’m scared all the damn time.”

Peter looks surprised at the confession. “What?”

Tony laughs bitterly. “How do you think I became Iron Man in the first place? It was because I’m scared. My suit? It literally just started out as a physical manifestation of my anxiety.”

“Does it get better?” Peter asks, and he looks so small in this moment that Tony’s heart cracks right down the middle.

Tony hesitates before answering. “Yeah, kid. It does. But it takes a while, and it might not ever go completely away. You just have to communicate with us. Think you can do that?” Tony asks, looking Peter straight in the eye.

Peter swallows thickly and nods. “Yeah.”

Tony looks intently at him for another moment and then nods in satisfaction. He moves to get up and groans. “Fantastic. I think all that emotion just gave me heartburn,” he complains, rubbing his chest dramatically.

Peter smiles, the somber atmosphere broken. “Or maybe you’re just old,” he jokes.

Tony pretends to look offended. “Rude. Offensive. You owe me one whole compliment for that.”

“Nope,” Peter says. Tony nudges him gently.

“Oh, come on. No nice things to say about your favorite superhero?”

“Who said you’re my favorite superhero?” Peter smirks deviously.

Tony’s eyes widen in mock hurt as Peter gets up and starts to walk out without him. “Two compliments! Now you owe me two!” Tony calls as he walks after him.

And Peter’s answering laugh? Totally worth it.

-

First of all, the fact that aliens decided to attack New York City during school hours? Rude.

Which is Peter’s first thought when Tony calls him right before his fourth class of the day. It goes a little something like this:

“Kid. We’ve got aliens attacking New York – again, don’t they ever learn? – and it’s all hands on deck,” Tony informs him.

Immediately, Peter lights up with excitement, already feeling the first shots of adrenaline at even the thought of fighting with the Avengers again.

“Yes, of course!” he gasps excitedly, making a beeline for his locker to grab his suit.

“Great, meet us at – “

“Hey, loser,” MJ greets, not caring that Peter’s on the phone. “Where are your safety glasses? You need them for lab today.”

“Shit,” Peter mutters, feeling his heart drop to his feet, because normally, hell yeah, he’d skip class to go fight with the freaking Avengers! Except today’s lab counts as one of three big exam grades and he literally cannot miss it.

“What was that?” Tony asks, sounding preoccupied.

“Uh, Mr. Stark? Can the emergency wait, like, an hour?” Peter stammers. Immediately Tony’s full attention goes back to the teen.

“What?” he demands sharply. “Why?” There’s a pause in which Peter is more than reluctant to answer, but Tony catches on quickly and groans. “Oh, Jesus Christ. Let me guess: Spanish test?”

“Chem lab,” Peter mumbles. He can practically hear Tony rolling his eyes.

“Kid, you can make it up. New York needs you right now,” Tony says matter-of-factly.

“But, Mr. Stark! I won’t be able to make this up, she said the only way we can miss it is if we’re in the hospital dying or it’s an extreme emergency,” Peter protests.

“So aliens aren’t an emergency now?” Tony deadpans.

“I mean, yeah, but I can’t exactly go up to her and say that I need to leave for something like that!” Peter says delicately, conscious of MJ standing nearby with a bored expression. “Anywho, I’ll be there in like an hour tops, I promise,” he says quickly before hanging up, and oh boy, he’s going to get an earful for that later.

Immediately, his phone starts buzzing again but he stuffs it in his bookbag hastily. MJ gives him a weird look.

“Your boss is fucking weird,” she comments.

“Tell me about it,” Peter mutters as they walk into class.

They sit down at one of the lab benches and wait for their teacher to start giving them instructions. Today’s lab is the Synthesis of Aspirin, and yeah, nothing they’ve done so far is nearly as cool or advanced as his web fluid or the stuff he makes in Tony’s lab, but he’s still excited. And nervous. Because he really needs a good grade on this.

Once instructions are given, Peter and MJ start methodically setting up lab equipment. Peter’s getting the hot water bath ready while MJ measures out the salicylic acid when a sudden hush falls over the room.

Curious, Peter and MJ both look up to see what’s going on and Peter immediately wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

Tony is standing in the doorway.

He strolls in with calm strides and a casual confidence and walks right up to the teacher.

“Hello, Dr. Mead. I’m terribly sorry, but we need to take Peter out of class. There’s an emergency at Stark Industries, and it’s sort of all hands on deck. He’s our best intern, after all,” he says charmingly.

She looks flustered in a way that Peter never imagined he would ever see of his usually very collected teacher.

“Um, I understand, but this lab is an exam. Is there any way it can wait after?” she asks hopefully, and honestly, Peter admires her for not just immediately caving into him.

Then Tony takes off his trademark sunglasses and looks at her with such a stern look that Peter immediately resolves to buy her the best teacher appreciation gift ever.

“I’m afraid not. This is a matter of utmost importance. Surely you have make-up labs?” he asks in such a way that implies the only correct answer is yes.

Dr. Mead opens her mouth as if to protest before finally just settling on saying nothing at all, before turning to the back of the class, where Peter is resisting the urge to hide under the lab bench.

“Mr. Parker, you may be excused. We can discuss make-up times later,” she announces, and Tony smirks, triumphant.

Peter’s face burns with embarrassment as he grabs his bag and walks out the room, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.

Tony ruffles his hair, and Peter swats at it in mock irritation.

“Was that all really necessary?” Peter demands when they’re alone in the hall. Tony shrugs.

“Nah. But then you hung up on me, and I’m petty,” he says. “But actually, I was already on my way to come get you. Cap, Nat, and Rhodes have got the situation contained, but they could really use some help, and we’re the only ones around.”

Peter, now that he’s not so worried about his grade, perks up with excitement again. “Man, this is so exciting!”

Tony gives him a fond look. Only Peter would find an alien attack exciting.

“Sure, kid. Now let’s go kick some alien ass.”

-

At first, there’s nothing to indicate why Peter’s spidey sense is suddenly going off like a blaring alarm.

His whole body is seizing with panic, everything in him screaming danger! But he strains his ears to listen for anything out of the ordinary and turns up empty, so he just shrugs and chalks it up to his anxiety going into overdrive.

Later on, he’ll hate himself for it.

Not even five minutes later, deep he hears it, clear as day: the crack of a bullet, one after another.

He shoots up in his desk, on high alert, and everyone around him starts looking around in confusion, not really comprehending the noise. For a second, he’s right along with them, not quite willing to believe that he’s hearing what he’s hearing, because no fucking way is this happening right now.

Then he hears the scream.

It cuts through the haze of the confusion that had clouded the room, and immediately Mr. Johnson runs to the door, knocking off the lights and covering the door window, and everyone is pushing to the back of the room.

Peter takes the moment of chaos to grab his suit out of his bag, and quietly slips out the other window, hoping that everyone was too preoccupied to notice.

“Hello, Peter,” Karen greets pleasantly.

“Karen!” Peter says urgently. “Call 911 and tell them there’s a shooter at Midtown. Contact Mr. Stark. Activate Stealth Mode.”

“Got it,” she says, and then a silence follows wherein Peter assumes she’s following his directions.

Without further pause, Peter quickly follows the sounds of students screaming and gunshots, praying and praying that no one’s bit hit.

“Peter,” Karen says, “Mr. Stark says to stay put; he and some of the crew are on the way, and so are the police. You are not to engage with the shooter.”

All it takes is another piercing scream for Peter to decide that’s definitely not what he’s going to do. He can hear students near the exits evacuating, but as he goes deeper into the school, it becomes eerily quiet. He tries not to focus on the hundreds of heartbeats skyrocketing in fear.

He rounds a corner and finds a student curled up under a water fountain, shaking and crying. She jumps and whimpers in fear when he enters her line of sight, eyes flooding with relief when she realizes who he is.

“Sp-Spider-Man,” she gasps, tears streaming down her face. He quickly shushes her, not wanting to draw any attention to them in case the intruder is nearby.

She shakes her head insistently. “H-He already c-came by. He’s at-at the classrooms b-by the audi-auditorium.”

Peter nods in determination. “I’ll take care of it. You need to stay hidden. If other people start running, join them. Stay quiet. You’re doing so good.”

And fuck, Peter doesn’t even know if that’s the right advice, because this is so much different than anything he’s ever dealt with before. These are his classmates – his friends – who’s lives are being threatened.

As he nears the auditorium, everything seems more still and foreboding, and he can hear a single set of footsteps walking calmly across the floor. Peter leaps up to the ceiling and rounds another corner.

He nearly falls back down at the sight that meets him.

The first door to his right his open, a body lay strewn in the doorway, and something in Peter’s brain shuts down, absolutely refuses to acknowledge the reality of the sight before his, refuses to go into the room in fear of what else he might find.

He hears gasps and soft sobs, but he pushes it all away and lets his gaze zero in on the figure at the end of the hall, gun raised towards another classroom.

The sound of the bullet, this time, is deafening, and Peter wastes no time before crawling until he’s just above the figure.

In the blink of an eye, Peter’s on top of him, wrestling the gun out of his grip and punching the guy with a ferocity that’s unfamiliar. He hits. And hits and hits and hits, because this guy attacked the wrong fucking school and those are Peter’s friends.

Peter sees red, flashes of anger and blood and oh god his friends, are they okay? And it hits him, suddenly, the gravity of everything that’s happened in the last ten minutes, the way his school will never be the same because of one person’s decision.

“Spider-Man, stand down,” a voice cuts through the haze, but he ignores it in favor of tossing another punch, but before he can, a metal hand wraps itself around his wrist.

“No!” he snarls. “This one deserves it!” He fights against the arms that wrap around his waist, thrashing against the hold.

“Kid. It’s me, Tony. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We’ll take care of him, you’ve done great. Your job here is done.”

With those words, Peter sags against his mentor, allowing the hard armor to support him and the weight of everything to sink in.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Tony says, gently picking the young hero up and letting the police come in and take over. No one even bothers to question him. It’s common knowledge that Spider-Man and Iron Man are close, and no one is willing to get him in trouble for beating the shit out of someone who deserved it.

Tony cradles the kid’s head to his chest, no longer caring who sees, only focusing on getting Peter out of there. Steve, Sam, and Natasha can handle the rest, he figures. There are cops everywhere, and scared students are being rushed out in a line to meet desperate parents waiting for them outside.

Happy is waiting for them, and Tony has never been more grateful for his status as Iron Man than now; no one tries to stop him.

Tony quickly deactivates his suit and gets the kid in, settling them both into the back seat, and Happy wastes no time trying to push his car through the crowd, glancing back at the duo with deep worry etched into his features.

Peter hasn’t said a word, and they’re halfway back to the Tower, where May is meeting them, when the teen starts shaking violently, clinging to Tony.

“Oh god,” Peter sobs, pulling his mask off, and Tony absolutely breaks at the raw terror and grief on the kid’s face as the weight of what’s happened hits him. “Tony,” he gasps, pulling his mentor closer.

Tony wraps his arms around the kid, hugging him with an unprecedented fervor. “Shhh, it’s okay now. I’m right here.”

But Peter’s hyperventilating now, tears soaking the man’s shirt. “I-I couldn’t – I was too late. I think – I think – Tony, I saw – “ and he doesn’t get past that, because he can’t. He can’t make the words push past his lips.

If he doesn’t say them, maybe they won’t be true.

Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into Tony’s chest, crying violently.

And Tony? Tony doesn’t know what else to do other than murmur soft words of comfort that he knows are falling on deaf ears. So he settles back in his seat, Peter practically in his lap, and runs his fingers soothingly through the kid’s hair. It’s going to be a long road to recovery, he knows.

But he’s in this for the long haul.

-

“No.”

Tony stands against his desk, arms crossed and sending a flat look to Pepper, who’s looking at him with an equally determined expression on his face.

“Tony, come on,” she says in exasperation. “He’d be thrilled, and if nothing else, it’d be great PR. I think people would really like seeing you be so invested in an intern, personally taking him for a deeper look at what you do.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Pep, Peter’s already seen what I do. Hell, he practically lives in the lab after school. He literally has his own room here.”

“Sure, but he only ever sees Tony, his hero, mentor, and father figure.” Tony opens his mouth to protest that last label, but Pepper cuts him off. “Shut up, it’s true and you know it. Now, as I was saying, I think it’d be really beneficial for him to see you as Tony Stark, a business man, company owner, and employer.”

“The answer is still no!” Tony says.

And yet somehow, that conversation led up to now, with Peter standing awkwardly at his side at eight in the morning, staring at the main floor of Stark Industries with awe on Take Your Kid to Work Day.

“Mr. Stark, thisissocool!” Peter exclaims in one big breath. Around him, workers are bustling about. Tony, quite frankly, can’t believe he’s never taken his fake intern into the main part of his building. A careless oversight. It’s impressive, really, that the whole “internship” story has managed to hold up for this long.

“Whoa, calm down, kid,” he says, watching the kid fondly as he practically buzzes with excitement. Peter looks at him with wide eyes.

“What are we going to do today? Are you going to boss a bunch of people around? Build stuff? Paperwork? Now that I think about it, what do you even do?” Peter asks, sounding breathless. Tony just shakes his head in awe, wondering how after all this time, the kid can look at him like he hung the moon.

(And he would. He’d hang a thousand moons if that’s what Peter wanted.)

“Well, first of all, Pepper’s usually the one who bosses me around, so I’m sure you’ll get to see some of that today. We have a press conference at one. Oh, don’t worry, it’s no big deal. We’ll introduce you as one of SI’s interns and explain that I decided to take this day, when a lot of other kids would be around, to show you the ins and outs of what I do. They’ll love it,” he reassures.

And they do.

But Tony’s not surprised, really. The kid has a way of getting everyone wrapped around his finger.

Peter, awkward and nervous at first, quickly gains a bit of confidence, occasionally answering a reporter’s questions with typical teenage sass, but always with a soft smile so as not to offend.

“How did you two meet?” one curious reporter asks. Tony puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Well, this one here is a huge dumpster diver. I actually got an opportunity to see his skills at fixing and making tech with natural ease, so I encouraged him to fill out an application for the internship. His application was outstanding, to say the least, and the rest, as they say, is history,” Tony says with a smile.

“Peter, were you a fan of Iron Man even before the internship?” another reporter asks.

Peter laughs. “I mean, who wasn’t? But really, I was always a bigger fan of Mr. Stark himself. The work he’s done to create a clean source of renewable energy? That’s insane! I can only dream of making strides like that. I watched a documentary on his robots over the years when I was younger, and I remember thinking, ‘I want to be like him!’ It’s actually what led me to start dumpster diving and fixing old tech. I never even imagined it could lead me to work under the man who inspired me.”

Peter shrugs, missing Tony’s stunned gaze trained on him, while the reporters listen with rapt attention.

“So yeah. Iron Man is amazing and all, but the real hero is the man underneath the suit, which I think people like to forget. The suit isn’t heroic – it’s the man underneath it that is.”

Tony is speechless. Absolutely speechless and completely overcome with an emotion he can’t quite identify as Peter looks over at him and offers him a shy small, as if worried he’s maybe said something wrong.

Tony’s throat clogs with the amounting of affection he has for the awkward, precious, genius, and selfless fucking kid, and he’s nearly knocked off his chair by the force of it. He clears his throat roughly, before addressing the crowd that’s busy melting.

“As you can see,” he says, wrapping an arm around the teen. “I brainwash my interns well.”

The crowd laughs, and the spell of emotion is broken.

However, when Tony goes down to his lab that night, long after Peter’s been dropped back off at home by Happy, he finds a sticky note attached to one of his computers, the messy scrawl deeply familiar.

There’s only four words, but they make Tony’s heart swell in his chest.

I meant every word. -P

[dxmxnxshxnx]

my thirst for shane/ricky wasn’t satisfied and i wasn’t satisfied with ricky’s reaction in my other writing so here’s another

this is so long and i’m SORRY -- the oscar wilde in me LIVES for the aesthetic.

Part 1 | Part 2

it’s much, much later when Shane gets around to actually asking Ricky.

it’s hard to ask him things sometimes. not for the reasons you would think though. he’s not intimidating or vague -- okay, that’s a lie. he is. to most people. but Shane’s not most people. or... a ‘people’ at all really. anyways.

their conversations (much like Shane’s and Ryan’s) just... flow. they could talk for HOURS about everything and nothing. and they do, constantly. it’s hard to remember what you wanted to ask 4 HOURS ago, after your sides are hurting from laughing so hard while Ricky’s continuing to argue that intimidating from Dunkin’ Donuts Jim was the best thing he’s ever done because now he always gets the first pick of donuts HAND-DELIVERED to him and he’s NOT going to share Shane and yes, Ryan’s confused face every time Jim shows up is fucking hilarious.

it’s much later, in fact. it’s around 3 am, when Shane’s apartment is all dark and quiet, much like the world outside. Ricky’s beside him, pressing close against Shane in his boxers and tank top; there’s no footsteps or voices -- just the sound of cars in the distance that can almost be confused for the sound of waves, crashing into the beach. there’s not a human presence to be heard -- or felt for that matter. there’s only the creaks of Shane's apartment and he smiles softly at the thought of Ryan grasping him tightly, scared of every noisy floorboard.

no, it truly feels like it’s just Ricky, Ryan and Shane in their own little world and the thought makes something ache within Shane’s heart. he adores the two of them with all his unfeeling heart. he wants to make them happy. both of them.

Ricky was fascinated (and a little bit jealous, Shane hears in his voice) by Shane not actually needing to sleep. Shane was excited to have an ‘awake buddy’ when he finds out that Ricky only needs about 3 hours of sleep (though Ryan is probably gonna be tired tomorrow, Ricky says.)

Ricky is drifting off now, as they need to get up at 6 am tomorrow, and is pressed close against Shane while they cuddle under the covers. Shane can feel Ricky’s breath in the nape of his neck, slowing down even further than it already is.

“Ricky,” he whispers. He turns his face toward the man in question, only to see droopy brown eyes studying him lovingly. funnily enough, they’re still sharp and drilling into him, despite how tired Ricky is.

“Mmhmm?”

“What-... Are you bothered by... you know. Me? Who I really am?”

Ricky scoffs. “Would I be in bed with you if I was?”

“That depends on whether or not I’ll be alive in the morning.”

“Aren’t you... already undead, ...technically?” Shane can tell sleep is pulling him under. it’s really cute to see the poised and perfect Ricky mumbling out remarks and trying to act all high and mighty, despite his exhaustion. His eyes have slid shut again, and his head is back to resting on Shane’s shoulder. Shane turns his head, making constellations within the popcorn ceilings grooves.

“I’m not a zombie, Ricky!” Shane stage-whispers, “I’m a demon! ... but, uh, yeah -- stabbing demons, ehhh, it’s not a great option. it would just hurt really bad and probably piss most of them off. it also ruins clothes. Don’t stain my clean clothes record -- ha! get it?”

Ricky gives a breathy chuckle, slow and low. He bringing a hand up from Shane’s waist, curling it into a fist and very lightly mock-punching Shane’s chest. “shut... up.” Shane laughs too, using the arm not wrapped around Ricky’s waist to grab his fist and bring it up to Shane’s cheek. Ricky flattens his now captured hand, caressing Shane’s cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute... lucky Ryan took a liking to you.”

“Am I now?” Shane asks, interesting peaked. Ricky’s nod is slow, but Shane jumps on his response, quickly. “Ryan was the first to like me?”

Ricky nods again, eyes opening like a cat’s, deliberately and searching. 

“Shane,” Ricky calls, and the man in question knows that he’s demanding his lover’s eyes. Shane gives it willingly. Questioningly. “Your demon side... doesn’t bother me. At all. I think... it’s fun... we could have a lot of fun together...” Ricky attempts a smirk, his eyes close with it though, and Shane bites his lip in order not to restrain himself from telling Ricky how adorable he is right now. “It... really matches me, ‘ya know? ya get my jokes and ya play along... gimme good ideas and stuffy like that. ...there’s no one --  no... demon, that’s like ya... no one... that’s my other half... like you are. You’re my... our... Shane.”

Shane smiles, leaning his head against Ricky’s. “I... you know exactly what to say, don’t you.”

“it’s kinda... my whole shtick, Shane...”

Shane laughs a close mouth laugh, kissing Ricky’s head. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I know... ya will... ‘love ya.”

“I love you too, Ricky.”

Will I write about the morning after, when Ryan reappears? Probably. I’m a sucker for this pair, though so you’ll probably get to see Ricky again and see just how different he acts with Shane than when he interacts with others.

[skymoonandstardust]

Your Friendly Neighbor, Spider-Man Part 2

Peter Parker x reader

Part 1

Summery: During a sleepless night a nose makes you look out your window– only to see the webslinger himself. Now: what happens after.

You were sound asleep. . . so you didn’t even stir when your window was slowly, soundlessly, opened—making your curtains flutter gently from the breeze. You didn’t wake up as the red and blue clad figure of spider-man crawled into your room and slowly closed the window behind him.  And There was no movement from you as he crawled across the wall to settle into a corner of the ceiling—where he stayed, just watching you as time slowly passed by and the sun began to light up your room.

Finally he moved for the first time in hours.

The hero released his grip, landing on the floor in a crouch that he stood up from and quietly made his way across the room till he was standing at the foot of your bed. Spiderman stood there, just looking down at you for a minute or two till his hand reached up to the mask covering his face.

   Bit by bit, he gradually pulled it off—revealing a chin, lips—a nose, until finally it was all the way off. 

A split second before the mask was lifted you knew with aching certainty exactly who you’d see, and it was Peter Parker standing there beside you, his brown curls heavenly disheveled and a beautiful smile splitting his face as he looked down on you, his dark eyes shining in the soft early morning daylight filtering through your sill closed curtains.  

The sound of your alarm jolted you awake and you opened your eyes in a spit second, reaching over to shut it off.

As you laid back down with a groan the events of last night came back to you—and you were wide awake in a second. You laid there for another few minutes, thinking how crazy the whole thing was before dragging yourself out of bed reluctantly and headed to pick out some clothes for the day.

As you walked into the bathroom the question popped into your head again Why would Spidey be going into Peter Parker’s room? Peter—didn’t my dream have something to do with peter? You thought as you prepped to get into the shower  yeah. . . something about  Peter being spider-man  you tried to think back to exactly what the dream was but it flowed out of your mind like water slipping though grasping hands trying desperately to hold every drop. The more you tried to hold on and remember the faster it faded and the less about the dream you were sure of.

You gave up with a frustrated sigh and dismissed the whole idea . . . it’s a possibility, but I can’t see Peter Parker putting on a suit and fighting crime every day  and you couldn’t.  He was your geeky, shy, next door neighbor and kind of crush. . .. your school mate and lab partner, not the web slinging hero of queens and it was ridiculous to think he was. You had to bite back a laugh at the very idea, and at your stupidity for thinking it—for considering the notion for even a second.

Forty minutes later washed, brushed, dressed and munching on the piece of toast in your hand you fairly ran down the street, barely making it onto the train in time. As soon as you leaped through the closing doors you scanned the packed car and spotted Peter hanging onto a pole in the middle of the crowd. His earbuds were in and you noticed the dark circles under his eyes and how he seemed just as zoned out and zombie like as you felt after your night of little sleep. 

Nonetheless when he locked eyes with you, Peter raised his hand in hello and sent you a tired smile that still somehow felt welcoming, sincere and cheered you up instantly. 

 Ordinarily you would have loved to have the opportunity to be next to him, but today you didn’t relish the thought—you knew it would be awkward (for you at least) with what you’d seen last night and all the questions still racing around in your head.

Taking the invitation anyway you walked up and gripped the pole, shooting him a smile back before turning your head to look out the window as he went back to staring into space listening to the music.  

The ride was as awkward as you feared it would be. You tried to avoid looking at him and had to swallow down the thousand and one questions on the tip of your tongue as the two of you rode  in silence.  Relief flooded you when the train finally stopped and you gratefully got off to head to midtown. Of course, Peter got off with you, but with more space between the two of you it was easier for you to handle and ignore him.

That was the theme of the day.

You ignored Peter through English and History—and ignored him all through Math. You tried to avoid looking at him during chemistry as he took his usual seat with Ned at the lab desk next to you and answered all the teacher’s questions flawlessly.  You stopped yourself from glancing over to where you knew he’d be—getting his books and things two lockers down from you. During lunch you sat at your usual table with your friends talking with them and avidly blocking out Peter and Ned gushing about Star Wars one table over.

Your friends finished before you and they left after saying goodbye and promising to see you in class, or after class. Calling out your own goodbye as they walked away you went back to finishing your sandwich--- and had just taken a bite when your heard someone plop into the seat opposite you.  You swallowed quickly and looked up to see—surprisingly—Michelle Jones, arms crossed on the table in front of her and staring at you expectantly.  

You’d never talked to Michelle before, not really, and she’d never talked to you either.  The only reason you knew who she was was because she was around Peter sometimes and you tended to notice everything and anything to do with Peter. She would sit with him and Ned at lunch, usually immersed in reading a book and nothing else, not even talking to the boys she shared a table with except to throw in the occasional scathing, sarcastic and witty remark that you would sometimes overhear – so it was very out of character for her to abandon her reading and usual table in favor of sitting here, looking at you.

The two of you stared at each other for a second in silence before she asked “What’s up with you today?”

“What?” You had absolutely no idea what she was talking about

“Usually you’re little miss sunshine and making heart eyes at Parker behind his back all the time, but you’re not today. You’re all. . . mopey, and you haven’t looked at Peter once today. So, What’s up?” 

 You debated for a minute whether or not to tell her. Michelle was pretty much a stranger, and you hadn’t even mentioned this to your friends, let alone anyone else yet— plus, she was around Peter from time to time. What if she told him or accidentally let something slip? But then, what had you really seen—what did you really know? Nothing. Just spider-man crawling through a window. There didn’t seem to be much to that and you’d been dying to tell someone about it all day so you took a breath, leaned close and murmured over the noise of the cafeteria “I saw Spider-man climbing through Peter’s window last night.”

Michelle, who usually was never surprised or caught off guard looked surprised now as she asked “What?”

As quickly and in as few words as possible you told her what happened, and what you saw. Once you were done Michelle stared off into space for a couple of minutes as you awkwardly sat there waiting to see what she’d do or say next.

When Michelle finally did speak it wasn’t what you were expecting.

She simply turned to look at you and asked “What are you going to do now?”

You had no idea—you hadn’t even crossed your mind that you should do something next so obviously you hadn’t thought about doing anything. You thought about it now though, considering for a second before you spoke up and answered her “I don’t know.  I hadn’t even thought that I should do anything till you said so just now. Should I do something?”

“uh huh. You think?” Nothing ever conveyed “you’re an idiot” better than the tone of her voice right then or the looked on her face—and nothing would probably ever come as close again.  

 Thinking for a second, you, fished around for an idea, until one popped into your head and you spoke “I guess I could probably rig a video camera . . .it might show us what he’s doing there if he comes back tonight.”

“Yeah, and  if not you’ll at least have evidence he was there, and you might even see who he is.” M.J said, warming up to the idea and even seeming . . .. eager. Which was a total switch from her usual attitude.

Opening your mouth so speak, you barely started answering her before the bell rang signaling the end of lunch.

“You’ve got to let me know how the camera works out.” M.J  commented as the two of you stood up 

“I will. You’ll be the first to know.” You promised as the two of walked out of the cafeteria and headed to class.

  You walked out of school alone like usual, happy for the first time ever that Peter always ran off to his internship as soon as the bell rang and didn’t take the same train back as you. You didn’t think you could have dealt with it today if he did.

As soon as you got home and had a moment to do it you retreated to your room so you could get started on your plan.

Even though you knew you had a video camera somewhere it had been lost in the depths of your room for a long time now so you had no idea where it was. After a long hour and a half of searching you finally found it hidden at the bottom of a box shoved in your closet.

After crawling out in triumph you flinched, surveying the damage to your room.  Clothes, shoes, boxes, little trinkets and various Knick knacks were strewn across the floor. . . it looked like a tornado had blown through and you stifled a groan at the thought of having to clean all that up after setting the camera in place.

Wading through the mess you made it to your window and surveyed at it for a minute. . . .where would be the best place to put it. It’s gotta get a good clear shot of Peter’s fire escape but it can’t be in the open or anywhere Peter or Spiderman might see Finally (after trying a few different spots and moving the camera around a couple of times) you found a location and position you thought was good enough and left it there. Turning, you looked at the mess one more time before setting to clean it, letting out a barely concealed groan of frustration.

After you eventually finished that, you tried to settle to something, but found you were too on edge and full of anticipation to pay attention to any book you tried to pick up. An attempt to find a tv show or movie online to watch failed because you couldn’t decide on anything, you were too busy thinking about the video camera.

The only thing you wanted to watch was the footage it would eventually show tomorrow.

You just couldn’t find anything to do, or stick with anything for more than five minutes before moving on to the next thing. The restless trend continued all night, since you were too eager to find out how well the camera would work. . .  so it was no surprise when it was late again when you passed out that night.

Your alarm woke you up from a dreamless sleep the next morning. This time you shat up in bed immediately as soon as the day before came back to you, and more importantly—Spiderman and the video camera.   Wide awake and brimming with excitement you looked over to the window where you’d put the camera last night and saw it glinting there, shining faintly from the morning glow.

A wide smile split your face and you didn’t waste a second before throwing the covers off and rushing to your window, all sleepiness forgotten as you reached up and took it down.

Racing back to your bed you thanked your lucky stars that it was a Saturday. If it had been a school day you wouldn’t have had time to watch it before having to get ready or catch the train  . . . which would have meant going almost a whole day without being able to find out what the camera had captured and you didn’t think you could have stood that.

After settling and pulling the covers over you again you started the replay of the footage, fast forwarding for a few minutes and going past hours of useless recording till you saw the first hint of the WebCrawler.

It was only a split second as he swung past a corner of the frame and landed out of sight on the roof. A second later and he appeared again. Like the night you’d seen him, spider-man was scaling down the wall. You hit play, making the footage go at normal speed and watched as he once more crawled down the wall until he reached the same fire escape. He went through the same motions, shooting out a web at the fire escape above to help him land soundlessly, opening the window, climbing through and closing it again.

This time though you could see into Peter’s room, the camera’s light and view being good enough to pierce through the dark shadows better than your eyes could so you saw a second later when spider-man paced passed the window, you saw when he walked back again and stopped-- still in view of the camera and you saw the movement of his arm as he reached up to take the mask off his face

You felt an overwhelming surge of déjà vu and the dream came back to you full force, nearly slamming you, and once again like in the dream you knew what was going to happen— you knew whose face you would see under the mask, and you were proved right a second later when the mask was pulled off to reveal Peter’s now messy brown curls, Peter’s dark chocolate eyes, Peter’s happy smiling face.

The mask was taken off to reveal Peter Parker.

Your friend, crush, classmate, neighbor. . . and apparently Spiderman.       

The forevers: @a-sea-of-fandoms @casownsmyass @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @scarlettsoldier @thatbasicnerd4life @docharleythegeekqueen

Marvel girls: @a-girl-who-loves-Disney @kenziecole-green @l4life @padfootsiriusorionblackthethird

Spiderman: @lets-imagine-fanfics @davros2004 @cutie1365 @l4life @tomxhotland

[justafewsmallsteps]

Make up Marichat May, Day 12: Sleepover

Title: Good Morning Word Count: 2,059

“Nope,” Chat Noir admits, trying to keep any disappointment from sneaking into his tone. He’d never slept over at someone’s house before. His father was far too protective to have him do something like that.  

“No? They’re fun,” Marinette says nonchalantly.

He’s not offended, but curious. “I imagine. What sort of things do you do at a sleepover?”

“Um…” she pauses her knitting needles to think, “play games and watch movies. Have late night snacks. Talk until you fall asleep.”

He enjoys holding the yarn for her. Watching it slowly unravel is therapeutic in a way. “Aside from the falling asleep thing, we basically do all that.”

Marinette purses her lips as she begins to wrap up her project for the night. “True… but I think some of the fun is waking up too. Maybe even my favorite part.”

“Oh yeah?”

She sets down her tools and takes a sip of hot chocolate, and he follows suit to fill the comfortable silence of waiting for her to respond.

“Yeah. The morning after it’s nice to see your friend there with you. You’re all messy and sleepy looking. Morning selves are different, I think. Like, you’re just you when you wake up. It feels comfy, if that even makes sense.” This time she sips out of embarrassment from her rambling.

Meanwhile he thinks about himself in the morning. No one really sees an unkempt Adrien Agreste save for his kwami Plagg. Showing that to someone else sounds like a thrill.

Marinette laughs into her mug.

“What is it?” Chat Noir grins.

“I’m imagining what you’re like in the morning. Except, you know, I can only see you as Chat Noir. I just see droopy eyes and you stretching out like a real cat. Can your hair even get any messier than that?” she teases.

His smile grows wider in response. “And what about you, Princess? I bet you’re no Sleeping Beauty when you wake up.” He enjoys this part of their relationship. Taking small jabs at each other is what friends who are actually comfortable do, because jokes don’t feel like a gamble when you’re sure that you’ll always make each other laugh in the end.

Unfazed, Marinette responds, “I’m not. My hair poofs out, and I’m like a zombie in pink pajamas until I’ve had some breakfast.”

“Ohhh, attractive.”

“You bet,” she winks at him.

She laughs at her own ridiculousness and he joins her. Meanwhile his imagination starts to turn loose.

He sees Marinette groggily get up, with bare sunshine filtering through her room. He sees her walking around slowly; yawning and blinking herself awake as she brushes her teeth and puts her hair into her trademark pigtails. He hears her voice, a sleepy but happy “Good morning” greeting his ears as the first sound of the day, with her smile as the first sight. He imagines waking up next to her and greeting her back, the way his voice cracks before his vocal chords have had time to warm up. He wants, more than most things in the world, to share that unpolished side of himself with her.

“I actually love sharing breakfast with people. Especially in a bakery. Maman and Papa get up very early to bake everything for the day. There’s nothing like hot pastries fresh from the oven. Cereal and pancakes are good too though.”

Adrien’s breakfast is usually a healthy portion of fruit and granola. Model diet. His mouth drools to think about steaming croissants and savory warm quiches shared over a table as morning light illuminates a peacefully cozy room.

“How about we try that one day? Breakfast, that is.”

Marinette gives him a look. “That sounds like fun, but can you come over that early? It’s one thing to sneak over here at night, but in daylight?”

“If it’s that early in the morning, I can do it. I’m pretty sneaky.”

“And busy,” she adds matter-of-factly.  

He thinks for a bit. It’s true that Adrien’s schedule is often hectic, but now and then he gets a break. “I can fit it into my schedule tomorrow. Can you wake up that early?”

“Can you? You’re such a night owl. I imagine you need to get your beauty sleep at some point.”

Well, Adrien hardly stayed in bed very late. His father would berate him for being lazy and unproductive. At this point he was happy getting just a few hours of sleep anyways. “I wouldn’t want to miss your morning zombie-self for anything, beauty sleep be damned. ”

She chuckles, taking the time to put away her knitting supplies in a basket. “We’ll see about that.”

It’s a satisfactory response.

“So breakfast, Princess?”

“Sounds good, but my parents begin baking around 4:30. If you’re planning on being here that early tomorrow, you ought to head home and rest already though.”

“Very true. How about around 5 then?”

Marinette gives a smile. “If you think you can, Kitty.”

“Trust me. I’ll be here to greet you before even the sun can.” He stands up and kisses her hand. “I should bid you a good night. I’ll see you early in the morning?”

“Bright and early,” she nods. “I’ll have a plate of croissants ready for us.”

But there are no croissants ready for him when Chat Noir opens the trap door to Marinette’s room in the morning. All that’s really there in the dim light just before dawn is a sleeping Marinette, cocooned in her pink blankets as a cute lump on the bed.  

He crouches down and pokes at her shoulder.

“Princess?” he whispers.

Her breathing changes, and she groans.

“Want to get up for breakfast?”

“…What time is it?” she asks from under her covers.

“5:03 AM.”

Another groan. She scoots back away from him.

“Should I wait for you, Sleeping Beauty?”

She shifts her head and cracks open a blue eye to glare at him. “Go to sleep.”

Chat Noir chuckles very quietly. He should have known Marinette was not an early morning person. He can easily imagine why she was always late to school if she had such a hard time waking up.

“As you wish, Princess. I’ll see you another time?”

He’s sad, not because he could’ve been asleep in his bed, but because he’d actually really been looking forward to it. Oh well. Plagg was gonna throw a fit for waking him up so early for nothing.

Before he can get up, Marinette grabs his arm and yanks him down.

“Mari—?”

“Go to sleep,” she repeats as he finds himself lying next to her with his butt in the air. “Or at least be quiet…”

He’s not sure how to respond, but he has a strong feeling (the grip on his arm, maybe) that there is no negotiating with her. He gulps. “Yes ma’am.”

Her tired eyes shut with finality.

With that, the room falls silent again.

She hasn’t let go of his arm, though they’re not exactly cuddling. Chat Noir shifts to fit himself into an actual laying down position on the bed, careful that his movements don’t disturb the mattress too much. He watches as the girl’s breathing slows and evens, which is ironic to him because he can hear his heart beating a mile a minute.

“G-goodnight,” he whispers.

After a bit of time her grip on him slacks. Her palm slides down his bicep but he catches it in his hand without thinking. Selfish, but he likes the contact of her.

Marinette furrows her brow, and for a flash second, he feels awful about waking her. Then her thumb makes a few soothing strokes across the top of his hand. It stops, and her breathing evens out once more.

That’s all it takes to calm him down. He releases a breath, his shoulders sagging as a result. He lets himself relax, and Marinette snoozing besides him becomes like a lullaby. He likes the steady beat of it.

Before he knows it, his eyes are shut. He listens to the sound of air coming in and out. Soft inhales and exhales. His own breathing begins to match hers in a rhythm that puts his mind at ease.

His mind drifts off to nowhere in particular, and it’s nice to feel so at peace. He likes Marinette’s room, and her bed is so comfortable he could sink into the mattress. It’s not unlike taking a bath, except cozier. Of course Marinette has trouble getting up in the morning. Her sheets smell like jasmine, just like the top of Marinette’s head…

“Kitty?”

When he tries to open his eyes, they feel slow to respond.

A blurry Marinette is the first sight he sees. Her cheek is pressed against the bed and her bangs are askew.

“Good morning, Chat Noir,” she whispers gently.

“Morning?” His voice is groggy. Don’t tell him he had actually fallen asleep? “What time is it?”

“About 6:10.”

An hour? He’d fallen asleep for an hour?

“Sorry I didn’t get up when you got here, Kitty. I’m not easy to wake up.”

As she moves a bit, he realizes that her hand is trapped under his. Oh, he remembers that.

He lifts his hand up immediately. “It’s, uh, no problem.” His voice does crack, just like he thought it would.  

Marinette laughs airily, and he’s glad that it was effortless to get her to do that. “That’s what your voice sounds like in the morning? It’s so sweet…” she teases before proceeding to sit up. The comforter piles in her lap as she stretches.

Watching her makes his own body ache from being still. Without thinking, he moves his arms up and then underneath him, allowing his back to stretch out.

“So you do stretch like a cat after all! And look at that messy hair!” She wipes her eyes.

Chat Noir smiles as he repositions to sit down comfortably, one leg tucked under another. He points an accusing finger. “Me? Have you seen yours?”

She smiles with her lips stretched and her face still puffy with sleep. “Nope, but I can imagine. Attractive, right?”

“Very.” Except he isn’t sure how much of a joke that is, because he appreciates it a lot. Marinette first thing in the morning is pleasant. He likes her meek voice and round cheeks. He likes her relaxed eyes and her unkempt hair. It’s very her, and it makes him feel content. “Bossy, too,” he adds.

“Bossy?”

“Mhmm. First I get here right when I said I’d be here, and then Ms. Grumpy tells me to ‘go to sleep or be quiet.’ Someone’s scary.”

“I should’ve warned you that I’m really not good in the mornings. I would’ve gotten up if you tried more, probably.”

“You pulled me down! I think if I tried anything else you would’ve clawed my eyes out, Princess.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes and reaches out to fix his hair before petting his head affectionately.

It occurs to him in that moment that he wouldn’t mind waking up like this everyday. It’s a weird thought, but one that feels too right to dwell on poorly. That, and he’s too content to deny it.

“It’s fine. I enjoyed the catnap anyways.” He wants to brush her hair down in return, but he’s worried that his claws might end up making it worse.

“But hey, if you think about it, we got the ‘sleeping’ part of a sleepover done, so you can sort of say you’ve been on one now!” She sticks out her tongue cutely.

“I suppose I can,” he chuckles.

“How was it?”

“Considering I had to wake up at an ungodly hour, sneak through Paris only to find you grumpy and asleep, then have you force me to sleep…” he catches the guilty expression on her face, “I’d say it went pretty well. Besides, I hear waking up is the best part anyways.”

“It is. I’ll prove it with breakfast. I can fetch those croissants now that I’m up.”

He actually doesn’t need convincing, but… who is he to say no to pastries?

“Mmm, sounds good.”

Marinette beams and takes the covers off herself. “I’ll be right back then.”

As she climbs the ladder down, Chat Noir calls out at her. “Good morning, by the way.”

She looks up, her eyes brighter now that’s she’s more awake. “Good morning again, you silly cat.”

[fanfic-inator795]

Hero Magi Penn Zero Magica: Chapter 8

Plot: Penn never really thought that he could be as strong or heroic as his parents. However, when a mysterious cat-like creature named Phyllis offers to grant him one wish in exchange for becoming a magical hero, he finds that he may just be able to make his dream come true, and maybe even get his family back at the same time. Unfortunately, the life of a magical hero is filled with tragedy and despair. Can Penn really live that life? Can he help his friends? And what is with that mysterious new art teacher of his? Read to find out!

((Thanks for the likes on the previous chapter ^v^ Reblogs and comments are appreciated as well! But really, I’m just happy to know this story still has some readers despite a ridiculous hiatus. So again, thanks! Original idea for this AU belongs to @rinnysega. Hope you all enjoy!))

The labyrinth around them crumbled as the witch’s body - or at least, what remained of it - broke away and disappeared like ash in the wind, leaving only a grief seed in its place. 

“Heh, how ‘bout that...?” Despite all the screaming and laughing he had been doing, Boone’s voice was quiet now, just barely loud enough to be heard. He turned to Penn, smiling. “Looks like I’m not gonna be losing anymore fights, huh...?”

Penn’s frown deepened. “Boone...”

The green magical hero bent down, picking up the grief seed - and tossing it over his shoulder towards Sashi. Of course, she caught it with ease, despite not looking like she really wanted it.

“There,” Boone told her, nodding slightly, “I’d say we’re even now, don’t you think? Besides, you only come to the labyrinths for the grief seeds, right?”

Sashi growled, squeezing the grief seed in her fists. “Hey, I was just being polite,” Boone insisted, a light smirk still on his face, “And besides, I don’t want to owe you anything. ...Come on, Penn. We should get going.” With that, his magical hero outfit dissolved away, his soul gem quickly turning back into it’s ‘portable’ form. 

However, no sooner than the magic left his body did Boone start to wobble, barely able to stay on his flip-flop wearing feet. “Boone!” Penn stepped forward, grabbing him just before he could hit the ground.

Though, the magical rookie didn’t seem too concerned. “It’s cool,” he mumbled, “Just tired... I’m good.”

Of course, Penn couldn’t really believe that, but he also didn’t want to argue with him. Not right now, at least. “Come on, bud...” 

Sashi watched as the two slowly walked away, glaring at them. She still hadn’t bothered to even look at the grief seed she had been given. She knew that she wasn’t the one who really needed it, not after a battle like that. 

“Hmph, stupid...”

()()()()()()()()()()

The two friends had been lucky. They had just made it to a bus stop under an awning when it had started to sprinkle. A couple minutes passed, and that rain turned to a thunderstorm. But despite the heavy sounds of water hitting the metal shelter above them, Penn still couldn’t help but notice the silence between them.

“So uh... pretty intense battle tonight, huh?”

“Yep,” Boone replied simply.

Penn glanced away. “Yeah... Hey, Boone? I... I know you want to fight witches and, and protect Middleburg but... I mean, what you had to do- That couldn’t have- I mean-!” 

“Just get to the point, Penn,” Boone snapped, his words still feeling harsh despite his voice still being low.

Penn blinked. Feeling his body tensing up a bit, he crossed his arms slightly before continuing. “I, I know you said it doesn’t really hurt but... But I still don’t think you should fight like that anymore, even if you can ‘block out’ the pain. I mean... Come on, Boone.” His eyes started to hurt. “It hurt just watching you fight like that.” All those cuts and slashes, the stabs, the screams, the laughter-

“So? What does that matter?”

“Huh? What does it... Boone, how could you say that? Of course it matters! You-”

“It doesn’t matter when there are still witches and villains out there that need to be destroyed,” Boone retorted, squeezing his fists, “This is my job now, Penn. I can’t do anything else. Heck, I’m practically a zombie now anyway, so what does it matter if I get hurt? If fighting this way lets me keep winning, then so be it.”

“No! No, NOT so be it!” Penn shouted, “Boone, please, listen to me! I’m just trying to help-!”

There was a flash of lightning, and just as the thunder started to roll, Boone turned to look at Penn, and the redhead couldn’t help but gasp slightly.

He had never seen his best friend look so angry... so cold. 

“Dude... If you really want to ‘help me’... Then why don’t you fight those things?”

“H-Huh? I-”

“After all, you’re the one with all the talent, supposedly!” Boone continued, standing up now, “Phyllis told me that you just have aaaaall this potential! You could be a great magical hero, just like how you’re just soooo great at everything else! So if you REALLY care that much, then why don’t you just make a contract already and see how it feels?!”

Penn stared back at him, his body feeling ice cold. “...I...” That was all he could really say.

Boone just scoffed. “Of course not. Of course you wouldn’t make a contract just for me. Though I guess it’s no surprise. Who’d even want this kind of life?” He glanced down at the concrete, his darkened glare never faltering. “But whatever. This is all I’m good for now, and if I have to do it alone, then fine.”

Without another word, Boone turned away and started to walk outside, not even flinching at the rain. 

“H-Hey... Hey, wait! Boone!” Penn shouted as he stood up. Despite still feeling a bit shaken by his friend’s words, he knew he couldn’t just let him go off alone. “Please, Boone-!” 

“Don’t follow me.” That was all Boone had left to say, and he certainly wasn’t going to listen to anything else either. 

So, he decided just to run, paying no mind to the rain or the cold or his sore body or even his best friend, who could only watch as Boone ran farther and farther away as fast as he could. Penn could feel wetness on his cheeks, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. “Boone...”

With each step, the magical rookie could feel his heart begin to ache more and more as guilty thoughts and memories continued to swirl around in his mind. No longer shining bright, his green soul gem began to dim as splotches of black began to appear on it. 

“Ugh, why did I say that?!” he asked himself as he clenched his eyes shut, not caring if he slipped or ran into anything, “Why am I being such a jerk?! What’s wrong with me?!”

Honestly... How could he ever truly call himself a hero after a day like this?

()()()()()()()()()()()

“-We just need to make sure that we’re in the area by noon.” Turning to another map, Rippen pointed out the several traps he was planning on laying for their prey. “According to my research, this will be where Walpurgisnacht is going to show up. But as long as we can surround it, we should be able to beat it.”

Sashi hummed, chewing her last energy bar - Rippen scowled slightly when the crumbs from her wrapper bounced onto his carefully detailed map. “Shouldn’t be too hard... Though, how reliable is this ‘research’ you’re getting. Before this, I’ve never even heard of-”

“It’s very reliable,” Rippen insisted.

“Oh yeah? Then where - or who - did you get it from?” The older man didn’t answer. He didn’t even bother looking up from his paper, which made his temporary partner sigh. “You know, the whole ‘adults keeping secrets from kids’ thing really annoys me.”

“I’ve already told you everything you need to know.”

“Then why does it still not feel like enough...” Sashi retorted as she crumbled up her wrapper, “Look, I know we don’t exactly trust each other but, we are working together. I would think that would be enough to earn me at least a few more details about all this-” Or about Rippen himself.

But before Rippen could make any sort of defense- “Yes, I would like to know more details as well...” Rippen turned his head towards the voice, and narrowed his eyes at the creature now standing in the corner of his living room. 

However, that was nothing compared to Sashi’s reaction to her. Almost instantly, Sashi stood up and leapt over to the cat, and with a loud “HI-YA!”, she kicked Phyllis into the wall. Although, if Phyllis had felt any pain from the attack, she certainly didn’t show it. “I take it you don’t want me here?” she asked casually as she picked herself off the floor.

“You’ve got some nerve coming here,” Sashi shouted back, ignoring the question, “After everything that you’ve done to us, you think you can just walk in here and-!”

“I am only delivering news,” Phyllis interrupted, “News I am sure Rippen is interested in... It would seem Boone Wiseman is deteriorating fast. Very fast, and not just because of lack of magic. Curse is growing, and it is his own fault.”

Rippen couldn’t help but stiffen slightly at this. Of course, he had been expecting this, but even so...

“Wait, what do you mean?” Sashi asked, “Magical heroes can’t perform curses! ...Right?” 

Unfortunately for the red magical hero, it was her turn to be ignored. “If Boone Wiseman continues, things may get complicated. May even mess with Walpurgis plans.” As she said this, Phyllis continued to stare Rippen down, but the older man’s gaze never faltered.

Sashi scowled. “What do you mean by ‘complicated’? Spill it, cat!”

“Oh, I am sure Rippen can give answer to question, right?”

Coolly, Rippen finally turned his eyes away from the creature. “I’ve heard your news, so you can leave. Now.” So, that was what Phyllis did. But as the creature left and Sashi sat back down, her words of warning still hung heavy in the silence between the two magical heroes.

()()()()()()()()()()

Boone knew fully well that his parents and Penn were probably worried sick about him. After all, he hadn’t gone home, and other than a few minutes near the campus, he hadn’t gone to school either. Those few minutes had been enough...

“Hey, Alex... I thought you lived downtown.” “I do.” “Well then, do you mind if I ask why you’re walking the opposite way?” “Sure, though, it’s a pretty easy answer. Aggie, I wanted to talk to you about something. Something I’ve sorta been thinking about for a while...”

But that was fine... It had to be fine. He had a job to do. 

Giving another battle cry, Boone swung his sword, slashing through the familiars that surrounded him. Sloppy... Weak... Your attacks can barely do anything! When put next to the voices in his head critiquing his fighting and comparing it to real magical heroes like Larry, the pain he felt from each cut or hit barely felt like anything at all...

“Get back!” he screamed at the darkness as he continued slashing at it, “I said GET BACK!” Slowly but surely, the labyrinth was coming down, its familiars being defeated one by one. But not fast enough... Not nearly fast enough.

Once the job was done, Boone let go of his magical form, and allowed himself to kneel on the cold concrete of the now back-to-normal parking garage, just for a moment. 

“...You’re such a fool.”

The boy blinked. That voice definitely hadn’t come from his head. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder, and saw a pair of cold, yellow eyes looking back at him. The man was in his usual school outfit, though he still looked like he meant business.

“When you’re low on magic, you should only fight opponents that can give you some relief afterwards,” Rippen scolded him, “Now here.” Reaching into his pocket, the teacher took out a grief seed and tossed it towards Boone. “Use it, before you get yourself killed.”

“...And who says that I care about that?” Boone asked before kicking the grief seed away. “Why would I care? Can you answer that, ‘Mr. Rippen’?”

Rippen glared back at him. “Honestly, boy-”

“I’m not done.” Despite how much his body was hurting, Boone forced himself to stand up. “No matter how lousy I may be at the fighting, I’m still keeping my promise to be a true magical hero. One that fights to save others, not just for the magic rechargers. And, if I’m not strong enough to defeat a witch, or if I’m too weak to fight anymore, then what’s the point of me sticking around? It’s not like you actually care about me.”

“Of course I-” He stopped when he saw the look Boone was giving him. ...Honestly, the boy may have been foolish, but he was still fairly perceptive. “Actually, you’re right. I couldn’t care less about saving your life, Boone Wiseman. Based on what I’ve seen from you, your fate is pretty much sealed. ...However...”

Rippen started to walk towards Boone, light covering his casual clothes as they almost instantly transformed into his magical hero outfit. “I think we can both agree that Penn doesn’t need to see you like this. He doesn’t need that. If you want to just keep destroying yourself, then fine, do whatever you want. But... If you think that I’m going to let Penn suffer alongside you, then-” He lifted up his shield, the metal on it glowing slightly- “I’ll just have to end you myself.”

By this point, Boone’s eyes were wide, though more out of shock than fear. Was Rippen actually going to-

“HEY!” Rippen gasped as a pair of tiny arms wrapped around his neck. Despite her small stature, Sashi was not only able to put Rippen in a headlock, but pin him down somewhat as well. Looking up at the still surprised Boone, she shouted “Go! Hurry up and get out of here!”

“...” Shrugging slightly, Boone turned and slowly walked away, down the road and (he hoped) towards some other labyrinth. 

And, with Boone taken care of, Sashi turned her attention back to Rippen. “What’s wrong with you?! I know he’s annoying but... But something’s wrong! Something’s messed up with him, and instead of trying to help you try to kill him?! Seriously, are you a hero or not?!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rippen retorted, “Now let me go, girl.” “What do you mean it doesn’t-?” “I said, let me go!”

“...Hmph, I think I get it now,” Sashi smirked, tightening her grip, “You can’t use that special technique you have if someone’s touching you, can you? So you’re going to tell me what I want to know, or-”

Rippen growled. Fine, if she wouldn’t play fair, then neither would he. Thankfully, she hadn’t been able to pin his arms down, so he was able to reach inside his shield and pull out a-

“WHOA!” At the sight of the grenade - and at Rippen pulling the pin out without a second thought - Sashi immediately let go. 

In the blink of an eye, the man disappeared as the grenade exploded, filling the parking garage with smoke. Obstructive, yet thankfully harmless. “...Hmph, of course. Another stupid trick...”

()()()()()()()()()()()

“I just don’t get it... Where could he be?” 

Not knowing what else to do, Penn sat down, deciding to rest on a bench near a fairly nice fountain. In any other situation, maybe the sound of water could have been calming. But not tonight...

As soon as classes had ended, he had ran out and started searching for Boone everywhere. His house, alleyways and abandoned buildings, the hospital, parks, uptown, downtown - everywhere! But there just wasn’t any sign of him, as if he had just disappeared. “But he has to be somewhere...” Though it didn’t really matter where his best friend. Penn just wanted to make sure he was alright... 

“Maybe... Maybe he’s just been in a labyrinth this whole time, and had to finish off a witch before making his way home? Or-” Out of the corner of his eye, the redhead noticed a familiar white cat watching him, and his frown deepened.

“...What? You are holding grudge against Phyllis too?”

“I don’t know, maybe... I mean, could you blame me if I was?” He sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. This was all just such a mess... “Say... Phyllis?”

“Yes, Penn Zero?” Phyllis replied as she hopped onto the bench, taking the seat next to Penn. 

“Is, is there any way you could reverse Boone’s contract? You know, make it so he can just be a normal high schooler again? With a-” he cringed slightly, “A soul actually inside him and no magic and all that stuff?”

Phyllis shook her head. “I cannot.” 

“Oh...” He wasn’t too surprised, though he still hoped... However, after a moment of thought, Penn remembered something. “Hey, didn’t you say I had all this potential and stuff? Like, if I made a contract with you, I’d be a super powerful magical hero?”

“More than ‘super powerful’.” Phyllis’ tail started to swish back and forth, almost as if the stoic cat was actually excited for once, as she glanced up at the stars, “In fact, if you wished it, you could even become god of this world. Do things that even Phyllis couldn’t do.”

Penn gaped at her. “Wait, seriously? I... I have that much potential? But, why? What’s so special about me? I’m- ...I’m just a kid. Just an ordinary high school freshman, so why do I have the potential to be such a great hero?”

The creature shrugged. “Who is knowing. I don’t know why it is your destiny to be powerful, Penn Zero, but it is.”

“...Then...” The boy squeezed his fists. “Then, if I wished to get all this god power, would I be able to change Boone back?” “Of course.” “...Alright.” A look of determination crossed his face as he looked Phyllis straight in the eyes. There was still that familiar sense of fear and worry about the fights and monsters he would have to deal with, But, despite all that, he knew that if it was to save his best friend, then it was the right thing to do.

“Phyllis, I wish to be a magical-

*BANG!*

Penn hadn’t blinked, yet it still felt like he had missed something. One moment, Phyllis was alive and well. The next, the creature was slumped over the bench, riddled with bullet holes. He heard himself gasp, just as an empty gun hit the ground. He looked over his shoulder.

...Honestly after everything, Rippen somehow finding him and appearing out of nowhere was the least surprising thing he had to deal with these days.

“What... What is wrong with you?!” Penn shouted as he stood up, just barely managing to keep it together, “You didn’t have to shoot her!”

Rippen didn’t respond. He just kept glaring at Penn, panting slightly. So close... He had been so close to failing! Just a couple seconds more and Penn would have been-!

“Rippen... Why-?”

“Why?” the teacher snapped, his eyes narrowing, “I’ve been trying for the past several days to keep you from making a contract with that thing, telling you not to listen to it and trying to keep you safe, and you have the nerve to ask me why?!”

Penn blinked. This was the first time he had really heard the man yell. ...This was the first time he had seen Rippen truly upset. “I-”

Unable to listen anymore, Rippen rushed forward and gripped Penn shoulders. “Why can’t you just understand?! Why are you always trying to sacrifice yourself?!”

By this point, Rippen’s eyes were filling with tears, though he was either too distraught to notice them or just simply didn’t care about wiping them away. “Don’t you realize that there are people trying to keep you safe?! Who care about you and who would be absolutely devastated if you died?! You... God damn it, boy! Why can’t you just listen?!”

“...” As sorry as he felt for his crying teacher, Penn just couldn’t bring himself to say much of anything. Maybe he was just too shocked by Rippen’s whole speech. ...Or maybe he was just too focused on the words. “Rippen, you... Are you one of those people?”

Rippen flinched. “I-I...”

“Have we met before? I mean, I know we’ve met at school but, before that. Have we met before that?”

“...” Again, Rippen refused to reply. Of course he had answers, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say them... 

Slowly, Penn took Rippen’s hands and moved them off his shoulders. “I, I’m sorry for worrying you. I guess I should be more careful... But, I can worry about that later. Right now I need to find Boone. So... goodnight.”

“You... Wait!” Rippen reached out, but Penn was already out of grasp and running down the dark street. “Stop! You don’t-! Boone is already-!” But it was no use, and within a few seconds, Rippen couldn’t even see him anymore. 

“...Well, that was a waste of time, hmm?”

“...” Wiping away the remaining tears, Rippen looked back towards the bench, his usual scowl in place. The cat’s body was still there, but there was now a second Phyllis there, looking very unimpressed. 

“Yes, that is second time you’ve killed me. Definitely a waste of time. ...Though, only for you.”

Rippen raised an eyebrow. “...And why is that?”

“Because, Rippen, while trying to kill me, you have revealed unique technique... You are not from this timeline, aren’t you?”

“...No, I’m not,” the teacher replied, refusing to be intimidated, “No point in hiding it now. But just know that I know what you’re planning. I know everything!”

Phyllis hummed. “And you are doing all of this just to try to change Penn Zero’s fate?”

“I am, and I will change it, Phyllis. ...Or, perhaps I should say... Incubator.”

()()()()()()()()()()

It was nearly midnight now... Not that he could really tell. He had been walking for hours, not really going anywhere in particular. He had thought that he was supposed to protect something, or save someone but... what? He honestly couldn’t remember anymore. After all, the world was filled with horrible things. Bullies and villains, evil minds and broken hearts...

Just what was in this world that he once thought had been worth saving?

“...There you are! Geez, didn’t think I’d ever find you!” Who would have thought he’d just be sitting in some barely used subway station?

However, Boone didn’t move. He barely even blinked as the red magical hero walked over and took a seat next to him. “...You still moping?” she asked after a moment. Boone shrugged, making her groan in annoyance. “Whatever.”

“...Hey, Sash?” Sashi glanced up. Boone still wasn’t looking at her, but at least he was talking, so she considered that a good sign. “Yeah?” “Just wanted to say sorry... For any trouble I’ve given you... I’ve probably been a huge pain, right?”

...Okay, maybe it wasn’t a good sign. “Well, maybe you’ve been a bit annoying but... Hey, this doesn’t sound like you.” 

“Guess not,” Boone shrugged, “But... it’s not like it matters much anymore.” Before Sashi could even question this, the boy lifted up his hand. In his palm was a small orb, black and clouded with just a bit of metal wrapped around it. It took a moment for Sashi to realize just what the object was, and once she did, she just couldn’t believe it.

“Boone... Your, your soul gem! It-”

“You were right,” Boone continued, his eyes getting misty, “All that stuff about the universe needing to keep balances, and how doing good just leads to bad stuff... It was alright.” He gave a small, bitter smile. “I guess I did save some people... But I’ve hurt people too. Even Penn... I just got so angry that I couldn’t help but lash out, and blame myself for it all.”

“Boone, stop!” Sashi grabbed his wrist, yanking on it. “Come on! What’s happening to you?!” But again, she was ignored.

“I guess it’s what I deserve... It’s what I wished for. ‘For all the hope and joy we get from them, the same amount of despair and hurt end up coming from our wishes too’, isn’t that what you said, Sash? Heh, I really should have listened to you and Larry when I had the chance.”

“Boone-” Her words got caught in her throat as Boone finally turned to look at her, that broken smile still on his face. A single tear rolled down his cheek, and fell towards his hand.

“I guess I really am stupid, huh?” 

His soul gem flashed slightly as the teardrop landed on it, and in an instant, everything was blown away. 

Clenching her eyes shut, Sashi quickly grabbed a hold of whatever was near her and tried to shield herself the best she could from the strong winds. Dark, magical aura was swirling around her like a hurricane, and in the center of it all was Boone, lifeless on the ground. Sashi just couldn’t believe it. What the heck had just happened?! And what was happening now?!

“BOOOOOOONE!”

...Even while being perched high above Middleburg, Phyllis could still the release of energy. Boone Wiseman had finally fallen, and another inescapable fate had been met.

“Hmm...” Her tail swished as she continued to watch, her body already absorbing and collecting the new energy, “They say that if a hero is hero long enough, they eventually become villain... So, it makes sense that eventually, all magical heroes become own worst enemies.”

((Hope you guys liked it! I feel like since Boone was the hardest character for me to write for this AU - simply because he and Sayaka are pretty different, and I didn’t want to make Boone too OOC while giving him Sayaka’s arc - the last four chapters without him should be much easier for me to write, and thus should take less time. So yeah, see you guys in the next chapter!))

[stilinski-jpeg]

Wrong Loves My Company Pt 3

A/N: I know. This is long over due. But I’m back baby for real this time. There will be a few more parts to this so hold on tight. I’m a little rusty so bare with me. But yeah, that’s it ((: I'll insert the other parts to this when I get home.

Warning: smut

Word Count: 4064

As I pulled up to the apartment complex, I gave myself one more pep talk. I reminded myself who I was with and all of the reasons why I liked him. Although my thoughts did wonder to Dylan only handful of times, I was happy to know that I’d be spending all my time with Tyler.

I put the gearshift into park, and reached over my seat to grab my overnight bag. I’d stopped by my house just before heading over to the boys’ apartment to pick up a few things. I figured I’d be spending the whole weekend, so I packed extra. Some of those extra things included sexy lingerie that I was excited to tease Tyler with. I smiled to myself, imagining his wide toothy smile when I pranced around his bedroom in the barely there pieces.

Finally, I opened my door (bag in hand) and stepped out into the parking lot. That’s when the smell hit me. I didn’t know the smell well, but the piney, skunky smell was distinguishable enough. The building was big and there were mostly old people that lived here, so it wasn’t hard to guess which living quarters it was coming from.

The smell only grew in potency as I approached their door. I didn’t know if their devil’s lettuce was just that strong or they’d been smoking a lot of it; either way it would be interesting to see what I walked into. I rapped on the door, and waited. I couldn’t hear anything inside, no movement or sound. They were home, I’d parked next to Tyler’s car and passed Dylan’s on the way in. So, I knocked again.

Nothing.

I sighed, bending down and lifting the welcome mat. There lay a single silver key that unlocked their door. I’d warned Tyler countless times that this was a terrible place to hide a key, but he always laughed and said, “It’s not terrible, it’s unexpected. It’s so obvious that no one would think to look there.” I chuckled to myself thinking of the memory as I picked up the key and placed the mat back down. Sometimes I worried about how oblivious that boy was.

I nudged the key into the lock, feeling the locks give way, and opened the door. I was greeted with a cloud of smoke, blinding me momentarily. I stepped in, swatting the smoke away. It was amazing the amount of smoke that was in their apartment. It was like a thick fog clouding every inch of the room. There were no lights on except from the tv that Tyler and Dylan were sitting in front of. They looked like zombies, barely blinking as the pixels flicked from picture to picture. They were thoroughly disheveled, hair tousled and faces slack. Tyler was wearing a grey band t shirt and green plaid boxers. Dylan, was shirtless once again in the same grey sweatpants from earlier but with the hat from last night. Something about their appearance suggested they have done this all day. I drop my bag on the floor, hoping that would gain their attention to no effect.

“Hello!” I said finally, waving my hands at the pair.

They rolled their head slowing to look at me, like the zombies that they were. It was hard to stifle my laugh at the delayed reaction to my presence. Tyler’s eyes lit up, a wide smile growing on his face. Dylan wore that stupid smirk of his, the one that made my heart beat a little fast. His eyes were lazy and were barely making eye contact. Neither one got up to greet me, they stayed glued to their couch cushions.

“Hi guys! What’s-uh- what’s going on?” I questioned, nodding over to the bowl packed with weed and lighter on the end table by Tyler.

“Chillin.” Tyler chuckled, gesturing around to nothing in particular.

“I see that.” I laughed.

“We were going to make breakfast in a sec.” Dylan responded, and it was than that I realize he was still looking at me with that annoyingly sexy smirk and those glossy eyes.

“It’s like 7:30 pm right now.” I laughed again.

They looked at me in completely astonishment . Like I’d just told them that the moon really was made of cheese. That look was quickly changed with one of sadness. They’d probably hadn’t eaten all day, and this thought made me shake my head.

“I’ll order some pizza.” I sighed, digging in my pocket for my phone.

“Yes!” They cheered in unison.

I rolled my eyes as I dialed the number to our usual pizza place. As it rang, I was distracted by a conversation the two boys were having behind me. I’d walked into the kitchen, to get away from the noise of the T.V.

“God! She has a nice ass.” Tyler announced. He said it like it was suppose to be a whisper, but it came out much louder.

“Yeah,” Dylan added. “She does.”

“Dude!” Tyler chuckled, and I heard him hit Dylan. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Oh right! Sorry bro.” Dylan apologised, sounding a little distracted.

“Hello!” The voice in my ear hollered.

“Oh. Hi, can I have two large supreme pizzas?” I ordered, trying to get my brain back on track.

I threw my phone in my bag as I walked back over to the boys that were back to dumbly staring at the television again. I shook my head, not even bothering to announce that the pizza would take a little longer than usual because it was a Friday night. They wouldn’t notice anyway, I thought. I plopped down in the limited space between them, barely catching their attention. I looked over at Tyler who started laughing at something the little purple dog did on the show. The whole right side of my body was pushed up against his but he didn’t seem to notice. I frowned, slightly frustrated by the little amount of attention I was receiving. When he finally did move, it was to grab the bowl and lighter next to him.

“Oh, no you don’t.” I urged, taking the items out of his hands. “You’ve had enough I think.”

He looked upset, and for a second I thought he might protest but he smiled instead. Which is something I hadn’t expected.

“You haven’t had any, sex kitten.” He smirked, his eyes alive with mischief.

“Who’s going to watch over you two if I get high too?” I sassed back, moving to set the bowl and lighter on the coffee table in front of us.

“He’s right, join the party.” Dylan rasped from next to me.

Something pulled at my nether region at the sound of his voice. It was rusty from disuse, and unintentionally sultry. I closed my eyes, biting my lip, frozen. I was doing it again, imagining all the dirty thing I wanted that raspy fucking voice to say to me. What things I wanted his scruffy lips to do to me. I had to force down the groan that was building in me. Maybe one hit wouldn’t be so bad. I’d lose myself in the feeling of the weed and forget all about my boyfriend’s best friend fucking me into next week. I shuddered at that last thought, squeezing my legs together to force out the aching between them. I sat back against the couch, bringing the bowl to my lips as I did.

“That a girl.” Tyler voice oozing excitement as I flicked the lighter igniting the flame over the bowl of lightly burn green nugget.

I breathed in as the smoke started to fill my mouth, redirecting it to my lungs. It burned badly, but not necessarily in a bad way. The burn was complemented by the haziness my brain was slowly experiencing. The whole room seem to shift into a new world where space and time weren’t really relevant. I continued to allow the smoke to contaminate my body as the tv became the most interesting thing in the room.

I felt a presence, like someone was right next to me, and a second later I felt a pair of lips dangerously close to my ear.

“Breathe.”

Dylan’s low raspy voice hit my eardrum and my stomach did several involuntary backflips. I exhaled as if only his words could make me do so, feeling even lighter than before. When I looked at Dylan, his eyes were lazy but growing darker. I blushed, smiling coyly at him.

“Babe, look.” Tyler’s laugh broke the connection between Dylan and I snapped my head to the other side at him.

He was pointing to the TV and laughing wildly at how scared Courage the Cowardly Dog was. I giggled, placing my hand on his thigh. He did seem to notice, and the longer I left it there I realised he must be so high he was numb.

“Baby.” I said, now rubbing his thigh.

Nothing.

“Tyler!” I implored, growing impatient with being ignored.

“What?” He snapped, finally looking at me.

“Remember me? Your girlfriend?” I frowned.

“What about you?” He said curtly.

My heart sunk deep into stomach. Maybe it was the weed but the way he said that tore at me a little. Sometimes Tyler could be so distant. I knew he didn’t mean to be, but he was and it hurt.

I stared at him for a long while but he’d since looked away too taken away with the little purple dog on the TV. My mouth suddenly felt dry and my throat felt tight. The first two symptoms that tears were coming. I stood before I could let him get the best of me and padded over to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Dylan was rummaging through the fridge and I barely even noticed him as I pulled a glass from the cupboard. To be honest, I hadn’t even noticed him get off the couch. I turned on the faucet, filling up the glass as the water poured from it. Before it was even half way filled, I brought it to my lips and chugged the entire glass. The water didn’t go far to hydrating my ever drying mouth. I began to refill the glass when I saw Dylan out of the corner of my eye.

“You okay?” He asked, nodding to the glass that was almost full.

It took me a second to answer. I just watched the glass fill up and then overflow, soaking my hand in the process.

“I don’t know.” I said finally, shutting off the water.

I didn’t take my eyes off the glass. I was too caught up in my own thoughts to really want to look anywhere else. I could tell, though, that Dylan was right by my side. This proved truer when I felt his hand against my back. I closed my eyes at his touch. Even through clothes it was still warm and comforting, two things I needed right now.

I didn’t have the willpower right now to stop the feelings every part of my being was feeling. His thumb absentmindedly drew circles on my back, showing so much affection in such a small gesture. My eyes flew open and I turned quickly to look at him. I startled him with my movement causing him to pull his hand away, taking the warm and comfort with him.

“I’m sorry.” He apologised, placing the hand that was once on my back on the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed.

I looked up at him but he was still avoiding my gaze, looking everywhere but at me.

“It’s fine. You’re fine.” I said meaningfully, placing the glass down in the sink and turning fully so I was facing him.

At my words, his eyes met mine. Those beautiful golden orbs bore into me like they did the first night we met. It gave me the same feeling too, butterflies fluttering and heartbeat pounding. His tongue darted across his lips as for a brief second, his gaze falter to my lips and back. I grew even weaker, not being able to help when I took a second to wonder what his lips felt like as well. What he would taste like…

Ding dong.

The doorbell made us both jump and we separated like we had been caught doing something we shouldn’t. Now we both looked away. It took a second ring for me to realise someone was at the door and I briskly walked over to it, opening it tentatively. It was apparent how much more hazy it was in the apartment than it was outside when I opened the door. Smoke seemed to pour into the fresh air trying to escape its confinements. On the other side of the door stood a guy holding pizza boxes and wearing a red hat that read “Sal’s Pizza”.

“Oh, um uh how much do I owe you?” I asked, feeling around in my pockets for my wallet.

Why it’d be in my pocket and not in my purse I don’t know? My brain was apparently not working properly when under the influence. I heard the pizza guy chuckle and looked up to see him handing me the boxes with a polite smile. With confusion written all over my face, I took them from him and he walked away without another word. I stood in the doorway, stunned, before finally closing the door.

“Pizza.” I called as set the boxes down on the coffee table in front of Tyler.

“Thank god! I’m starving.” He groaned and threw open the lid of the first box, taking a pizza for each hand and sitting back comfortably on the couch.

I thought about attempting to mend my wounded confidence by offering some cuddle time or maybe a much needed make out sesh, but as I watched him sloppily devour the pizza my libedo was sudden deflated. I sighed and spun on my heels towards Tyler’s bedroom. I was exhausted from this night. As I walked past the kitchen, I remembered Dylan and suddenly realised he wasn’t there. I stopped right before the hallway looking around between the kitchen and the living room, but only saw Tyler and the glass of water I’d left in the sink earlier.

I signed again, missing his company. Not that I like his company or anything…

I continued my venture down the the hall toward Tyler’s room. The invitation of a cozy bed sounding more and more desirable as I inched closer to the room. I was halted when I passed the bathroom door that has just opened. I was greeted by Dylan almost crashing into me. He grabbed my arms to stop from knocking me over, but didn’t let go even after I was steady on my feet.

“Hi.” He said, his voice low and raspy as usual.

“Hi.” I breathed back, the looking he was now giving me causing my brain to frazzle.

He took a step closer to me and instinctively took a step back. His hands fell to his sides but he never stop hypnotizing with his stare. I took another step back, subconsciously trying to escape, but hit the wall directly behind me instead. Dylan stood his ground, the dimness in the hall casting shadows on his features making them more intriguing than ever. Still even in the dim light, his eyes shone like stars in the evening sky.

“I shouldn’t be here.” I said finally, interrupting the silence around us.

Though the statement was vague, he seemed to understand what I meant. That I was dangerously close to making a mistake I couldn’t take back. That if I gave into my selfish desires, I would be giving up Tyler. Worst of all I’d be hurting him.

“Then why are you?” He offered, taking that step that closed the gap between us.

He ducked his head until his lips were ghosting over my forehead. He trailed them down evoking goosebumps from me instantly. Our noses touched, and we began to play the game of Who Will Give in First. We weren’t touching each other besides are noses, but god I wanted to. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and I wanted to feel his arms wrapped around me. His tongue darted across his lips, catching the edges of my lips as he did. My breathing shallowed significantly and I could feel my power of will diminishing. I bowed my head trying to defuse the situation, another attempt in trying to stop myself. But Dylan cradled my chin in one hand and lifted it up to him.

“Because I can’t stay away.” I whispered finally, staring back into his eyes.

He smirked before he pulled my face towards him connecting our lips. It was like an explosive detonated in my brain. My whole body weakened as I fell deeper into the kiss and I allowed my eyes to flutter close. We stood there for what seemed like forever but it was definitely only a few seconds. It was good, too good but I had to stop it. This was too far. Gently but with a little power behind it, I pushed him away.

We detached, both of us heaving slightly at the ephemeral lack of air. My heart was pounding, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the shortage of oxygen or the fact that I finally got to do what I’d been secretly fantasising about since I met this guy. Well, partially. We watched each other as neither one of us made a move.

Walk away, walk away. I chanted in my head, trying to redirect my thoughts away from Dylan. But fuck he was raking over my body with that look, his bottom lip stucked in between his teeth. There was also the bulge poking out of the right leg of his pants. In the end it was his brief yet often glancing at my lips that made my decision for me.

I lunged for him wrapping my arms around his neck, crashing my lips on his. He grabbed me by my waist, pushing me back against the wall the I’d only migrated from an inch or so. I groaned in his mouth from the impact, feeling his length hard against my stomach. Dylan brushed his tongue over my bottom, my mouth responded involuntary by opening up to him immediately. With little effort he dominated, our tongue swirling over each other but somehow his always winning. I couldn’t stop now, truthfully I didn’t want to either. He tucked his fingers underneath the hem of my shirt and splaying then over my belly, carefully easing them up to just underneath the wire of my bra.

“You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted this.” He growled, pulling the cups of my bras down with a some force and tucking them underneath my breast so they were perked up and out.

I gasped when he cupped them, kneading them delectably. His hands felt rough, but delicate at the same. He brushed over my nipples with his thumbs, the peak hardening instantly. I let my head fall back to rest against the wall as I delighted in the care in which I was being given. Dylan lifted my shirt allowing air to cool my body and ducked down, latching on to the nearest nipple and rolling the other between his fingers. I let out a filthy moan, closing my eyes enjoying the pleasure and slight pain of him as I pulled at the hairs peeking out of his hat at the back of his neck. I was muffled by a hand over my mouth. My eyes shot opened and I caught Dylan just as he removed himself from around my breast. He stood up right, hand still over my mouth, bring his lips to my ear and whispering.

“Shhhhhh, kitten.” He teased, working his skilled fingers down to the buttons of my jeans. “We have to be

extra

extra quiet.”

As he said each word, he undid my pants even further until he could easily slip his hand down the front of them them. He still hadn’t removed his other from my mouth which turned out to be a good thing because when his index finger made contact with my clit, I let out a (muffled) cry.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He grunted, a smirk crossing his face.

That damn smirk.

He began rubbing slow circles into my bundle of nerves. It was hard to keep my knees from going limp as he worked me over. How one man’s fingers could be so expertly in tune to what exactly my body need, I don’t know. But I wasn’t mad about it. I hummed against his hand as his slow circles became faster, my hips suddenly rocking with his motion. The amazingly familiar pressure from deep inside began to grow. I removed my arms from around his neck so I could go back to kneading my breasts, pulling at my nipples ever now and again.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.” He breathed in my ear.

His words were tantalizing, only added to the growing pull that would surely end me. Suddenly, there was a loss of friction and I whined against his hand. He looked at me, his eyes lustfully dark, and gave me one more little smile before plunge two fingers in me.

“Fuck, fuck.” I tried to say from behind his hand, holding onto my chest for dear life.

My eyes started to water at the delicious way I was now being filled. He wasn’t even moving yet. He just watched as I fell apart with just his fingers inside me. He shook his head a little, mumbling someone under his breathe. I didn’t have time to even figure out what it was because the torturous motion of him pushing and pulling into me had begun. I moaned and groaned from the other side of his hand, trying to keep my eyes open but failing miserably. I caught myself being swept away by his fingers. Those fucking little godsends. I would surely come undone any moment now and it wouldn’t even take much to do so. But because he’s Dylan, he added another finger AND his thumb that went back to taking care of my clit.

I’d decided that this couldn’t feel better if he tired. With me kneading my breasts and him completely dominating me with one hand while keeping me quiet with the other, I was in for the best damn fingering of my life. His fingers pumped in me faster and harder as he drew bigger circles against my bundle of nerves. The pull I’d been feeling was at an all time high, and it only took his lips on my favourite spot on my neck to do me in. I came hard. I tightened around his fingers and struggled to stay standing as he helped me ride out my glorious high.

When I had, he eased his fingers out of me than out of my jeans. I stood there, steadied by the wall, as I breathed heavily. Dylan removed his hand from my mouth and placed on my cheek, pulling me in for a simple yet sweet kiss. Of course, this fantastic moment couldn’t last which only proven when Tyler’s voice carries through the corridor as he called out for me. Dylan and I disconnected and looked down the hallway at its opening. Dylan took a few steps back, watching me as I quickly zipped up my pants and walked to the end of hall.

“Yes, Tyler.” I answered, leaning against the wall.

“Babe, you gotta see this. Courage is like so like funny.” He laughed, reaching over to grab his bowl. He hadn’t even turned to look at me.

“Sounds like a riot but I think I’m going to head to bed.” I said curtly.

He didn’t seem to notice my tone and if he did, he didn’t care. Maybe it was a bad idea meeting Tyler’s friends. He wasn’t the same person I’d met a few months ago. After several minutes of no response, I shook my head and turned to leave. Tonight was a very weird night, especially between Dylan and I. That’s when I remembered he was still waiting for me. But when I looked he wasn’t there. My heart sank as the moment was swept away.

[theemmataylor]

Austentacious || Emma and Deadpool

I will forever be in love with this regency storyline, and the stories we create together. Wade is the best. So is Marcus. And I’m excited for them to actually find some adventures together. This is likely part one of six-ish. -- @violent-nobility

"We're losing her!"

"Damn it, Doctor Pool!"

"But just look at all this--"

"There's no time for that!"

"Forceps!"

"What?"

"I don't know they just always say forceps in surgery things and--"

"Who are you?"

"THAT DOESN'T MATTER NOW! Hurry! Quick! She's... what the fuck?! What's that light? Is that -- is her brain -- is it GLOWING?! Jesus what the fuck is -- NO!!! OH GO!"

"What do we do, Doctor?!"

"Get back!! Everyone -- except me -- get baaaaaaaaaaaaack!"

In hindsight, maybe pretending to be a surgeon had been a bad idea. Of course, Wade had thought that he was going to be operating on a particular bag of dicks named Emmanuel Taylor, but apparently, would you believe it? The surgery schedule was a little more confusing to read than that. Mister Terrorist Pants was going to walk free, but the pretty girl with the apparently exploding brain was fucked.

Really. Fucked. Completely fucked. He knew that the second he saw her. Of course, it helped that Lady Death had been standing over his shoulder and was whispering things to him, like how the girl was already almost in her embrace, what he should do to make it quicker and ease the pain that she was feeling even while unconscious -- which was sort of creepy, really. Not the almost-dead girl, but Lady Death. Ever since they'd banged, she'd been spending a lot of time with him, and he didn't know how to tell her hey, babe, you were great but it was a one time thing, I'm not Thanos--

Who, speaking of Thanos, that douche just had to show up. Jealous ex. Ew. He'd apparently been Captain Invisible to everyone else, he'd reached out and put his hand on the girl's head, and he'd smiled one of his terrifying terror smiles while doing some kind of magical magic, her brain had started glowing, and Wade had gotten hooked on a feeling -- wait, no. He'd gotten the feeling that oops. Thanos was a dick.

Not that that would surprise anyone.

Petty piece of shit.

Petty purple piece of shit.

That could be a song.

No.

No.

But there was light and brains and then a really weird feeling of falling and then -- bang, look, there they were. The room was beautiful, a kind of cheesy looking Victorian gig or whatever. Maybe earlier than Victorian. Maybe even Jane Austen times. Whenever those were. 1812? Nah that was a war. Austen was definitely 1050. Maybe. No. That. Whatever.

The bedroom was nice. The furniture was nice. The beautiful girl laying on the floor next to him was nice -- oh it was brain girl! But without the exploding head. She looked great, actually. Wow. Who knew she was a hottie? Fuck Emmanuel. She was wearing some kind of anachronistic costume, a dress like this was Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, and aw, look, boobies!

No.

No boobies. She was asleep, he shouldn't look at her boobies.

Ugh. His head ached. He sat up --

"Shit!" No costume! No costume, which meant icky gross skin all over the place, rotten ballsack sores out for the world to see. Wade sprang to his feet and ran to look in the mirror, but -- "What the shit? I'm hot? I'm hot. Oh, shit. I'm hot again. Damn. Nice. Okay. Yeah. Wait. Stop talking to yourself. What? Myself. Stop. Talking to myself. Focus."

He whirled around to look at the chick again and was pretty sure that this ridiculous suit he was wearing -- and damn these were some crazy boots -- probably would go for a small fortune if they could just get to a city full of Austen nerds.

"Hey, hey, hey." He crouched down next to her. The house was buzzing with noise, people talking about some sort of ball, apparently some noble or whatever had moved into the beautiful estate next door -- however far away that was -- and that meant someone might come in here and fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck Thanos anyway.

"Hey, hot stuff?" Wade shook her gently. "We gotta go. Come on. Get up. Thanos sent us here, which means bad, which means -- god you look nice in that dress. Uh, we gotta. Can you hear me? They're talking about balls out there."

The last complete memory she had was sitting in a car with Cecelia, waiting outside her brother's apartment, preparing herself to suck it up and talk to him about all the crap that had gone down between them. She didn't want to die alone. And it wasn't fair that he was asking her to.

He'd exited, looked across the road, noticed the familiar car and locked eyes with Emma. Then...

She noticed the ringing in her ears before the literal blinding pain had begun. Her ears had been the first thing to start bleeding. Before her nose, even, and Cecelia had wasted no time in taking off in the direction of the hospital.

Everything else had been a series of flashes of faces she didn't recognize, half of them not even looking at her, and pain. She felt pain even when the faces stopped.

When she started hearing voices, Emma relaxed into the knowledge that this was it. She would die alone, without her brother. Without a family. Just Cecelia. Which, in all honesty, was all she really needed. One best friend. She could die happy knowing she had at least that.

Emma could feel the lure of death -- the promise of no more pain, of any kind, and warmth, and all the Jane Austen she could stand.

It seemed perfect.

The background screaming and yelling she didn't really understand. Glowing brains? Who knew what the subconscious held on to. All she knew was she was ready for a time where the headaches ceased. Where the heartaches were no more.

She was ready for death.

And finally.

Silence.

When she came to, she was far more uncomfortable than she'd expected to be -- something was bound far too tightly around her rib cage.

And then. She heard his voice. Crazy and frantic and slightly insane. Emma opened her eyes, wincing, expecting the stream of sunlight to ignite a migraine. But it didn't. It warmed her.

She looked down at herself, dressed in full Austen-esque attire.

"So this is death," she replied up at the handsome man with the slightly troubled eyes. "But who are you?"

"Um, I don't think this is death, actually. I think we just got booted away from your death by this guy, this really awful guy, he's mad at me for banging Death, but heeeey. Wait. I mean, I'm Wade." He put on his best smile and hoped that it was comforting and good, then picked her up and set her on her feet.

"Your hair looks so much better when it's not shaved off. But listen, we should probably go and hide because there's this evil space alien who--" he made a face. "I don't know why I said space alien. Alien suffices. Wait, no, that sounds xenophobic, doesn't it? So there's an evil almost omnipotent space alien with a grudge and he is probably going to find us here and we really should just run, you know? Yeah. Running would be good. We've got to go find a car, and.."

That was when a knock came on the door and a maid entered. She smiled and bobbed a pretty curtsey. "Lady Taylor? Lord Wilson? A message just arrived from your parents, if you please." She handed them the card, which Wade took with a look of dismay. He opened it up -- and was devastated.

"They're staying in London, they don't care for the country weather, but they wish us luck? Why do our fake--- faaaa-- faaaaaantastic! Parents! Not want to be with us? That's -- you know what, beautiful maid girl? You should probably go -- um -- do -- things -- that would be helpful. Helpful things. We still need to talk." He tried not to shove her out the door, but basically shoved her out the door, then turned to Emma, held up the card, and both hands, took a moment to compose his thoughts into some sort of gentlemanly order, and said: "Shit. We're fucked."

Emma smiled. She'd didn't much care what the man said. This was death. Or at least, this was all she could hope for death to be. And maybe this guy wasn't the man of her dreams. But he was handsome enough. And he seemed... insane really, he seemed insane. But the fun kind of insane?

"I... would like to stay in the country, Lord Wilson," she said simply, moving over to a mirror attached to a vanity, sitting in a straight backed chair. "You may do as you wish. And despite what you've said... whether this is a dream while I'm in a coma, or death, or real life. This... is kind of... well, you'll think me weird, or a child, or whatever, but this is my perfect fantasy."

Emma's fingers carded through the ends of her hair. She could still hear the clippers from when they'd shaved her head. This was the dream. She knew that.

"You won't find a car. Perhaps a horse and carriage. But that's it. And besides. We're not making it to America any time soon. And if we do, chances are it'll be on the Titanic and I'll end up drowning in the Atlantic. Though, considering the time I think we are in, that won't be for another hundred or so years."

Finally, she looked again to Wade. "My name is Emma. And while I appreciate you being concerned about my well-being. I'm not leaving this place."

"Okay, Emma, but you're crazy, I mean, you're probably crazy. This place... you know it's not death, right? No, you don't know, whatever, I get that. I don't know what happened to you, maybe you got kicked in the head by a horse or whatever, but I know what dying feels like and I know that really..." Footsteps in the hall made him tense up and go quiet, but whoever it was kept on walking. "...uh, really trippy feeling of acceptance -- you know, that moment you realize this is it, and it's the worst thing but it's the best thing and it's not as bad as you thought it was going to be even though it hurts so much more and -- wait. Shit. Maybe we're both dead."

That made sense. No. It didn't. Because Francis. But....

Maybe.

"Okay. Whatever. We're siblings, I guess? And I'm not leaving you. Unless we're married. We're not married. Maybe you're married? I hope I'm not married. I'm not good at being married. Unless it's to Sebastian. Who you don't know. And technically I don't either, that didn't happen in this thread. But really, there are probably a bunch of monsters or -- something equally bad coming after us, and while I am all about fighting monsters, it's, I mean, it's sort of a kink, you don't seem too monster fighty? Also can I just..." He stepped over and started helping her with her hair. "I mean if we're gonna stick around, we should probably go help them play with their balls, maybe we'll find out who we're supposed to -- oh yeah, reading comprehension, here." He gave her the letter. "They think you're going to find a husband here. Balls. At the ball." The merc might have a mouth, but at least his hands were talented, and they certainly helped undo the damage that laying on the floor had done to her hair. "That's what the good luck is about. Apparently we need to get married. To other people. Which. I mean. You're plenty hot, and hello cute little tatas -- sorry, sibling line crossed -- but basically, you're way too chill."

Emma watched in silent. "But we have different names? And divorce isn't really a thing yet. So unless both our parents are..." She grew quiet. Even in this world, at least one of her parents were dead. And her real brother was still nowhere to be seen.

"I'm not your type. That's okay. Your handsome enough. But I still haven't decided whether you're crazy or not." The young woman closed her eyes as he fixed her hair and thought about all Wade's concerns.

"I don't want to get married. But I'd like to stay for a while, at least. This is a dream for me. And even if some monster comes, I'm pretty good at surviving, for the most part."

"Somebody's writing us a really sad story. Wow. It's probably Shiv. Fuck Shiv. But Emma, this isn't a -- okay. You know what? You like it here?" He finished fixing her hair, rested his hands on her shoulders, and met her eyes in the mirror. "I'll stay, too. If monsters come, I'll keep them off of you. If this is your dream come true, if this is what you want, then... embrace it and love it and I'll keep you safe. The way a brother should." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, trying to be calm, trying not to look too worried. "And how do you know you're not my type? Maybe I'm into angels."

"I'm assuming Sebastian is male? Not to say you can't be into both. But... I certainly don't think I'm a permanent type for you." She hadn't expected the sudden shift. The kindness and kiss. She lifted a hand to touch her cheek where the quick kiss had been left.

She'd expected to be abandoned. She always expected that.

"I... would like one day. One day to pretend that my life wasn't... so lonely. Then we can go do whatever it is you think we need to do. First thing in the morning tomorrow. We can go in search of whatever truth you believe is out there, if you'll let me live my truth tonight."

She wouldn't meet her Darcy, of course. But the dancing and elegance and romance of this time was enough. It was enough.

"Okay. So we go to the ball and live out the Regency -- it is Regency, right? -- fantasy. You dance and flirt and smile and meet all of the eyes with secrets that you may never know and they'll never know yours and -- he is male, he's perfect, he's so calm -- you live this dream til dawn. And maybe it ends then. Maybe it doesn't. I'll go and try to listen around, see what's happening, look for any signs that we're actually as fucked as my panicky nature made me think I thought we were, and... it'll be fun. Dancing. Pretty people with boobies and other pretty people with these nice tight pants." He patted his thigh, then stepped away. "Sound like a plan?"

"Will you dance with me tonight?" She asked suddenly. "Maybe that's too forward of me, considering the time we're in. And maybe it would seem strange if we dance as siblings. Unless... we're supposed to be cousins? In which case..." she blushed.

"In which case people here will half expect us to be courting."

"Cousins? Really? I mean yeah, of course I'll dance with you, hollaaaa, but -- wow. Huh. That's. Huh. But dance with other people too, okay? Don't hide from the dream that you've chosen, not now that it's here, okay?"

"Yeah. It's fairly common to marry ones cousin in these times." But she wasn't suggesting they marry. Or even kiss. But... he already felt familiar. She trusted him. And to dance her first dance with someone she knew in these strange circumstances felt the most reassuring.

"Do we... go downstairs? Or would you like to tell me more about PERFECT Sebastian?"

"I guess? Maybe?" He went and looked out the window -- and his eyes got huge. "Holy shit." The landscape was stunning. Nevermind that it was raining and cloudy, but the grass seemed to stretch on for miles, interrupted by the curving lines of a stream, the shadowy shapes of a hedge maze, a manicured garden. "Uh.. perfect.. Sebastian.... isn't... I think we're in England, this is seriously so English, like how I imagine it in romance novels, but... he's not here right now."

Turning around, he met her eyes, smiled, then went to grab the jacket that looked like it was definitely his. "He's a sniper. An assassin. He's chill and smart and you really can't shake him. I guess I look up to him." The jacket felt like it was tailor made. Weird. "And I mean, I guess there are worse people to look up to.

"So. Shall we go and see where the big ball is? Also, if you happen to snare a super hottie, share him, okay?"

"I should say the same to you," Emma stood, smiling, relaxing into this death. She moved across the room, standing near him at the window, looking at the landscape. It really was beautiful.

"I told you we wouldn't be getting to America any time soon." Emma stretched, her chest and stomach pressing against him so that she could return the kiss to his cheek.

"Let's get downstairs so that we can figure out the details of the balls of this place. Maybe you're wrong. Maybe your Sebastian is here somewhere. Maybe you are the one who is meant to find love in this world."

"Nah. I kinda sorta already had my chance. And I fucked it up. Big time." He shrugged and smiled, then went over to open the door for her, trying not to think about how sweet and soft she had felt when she kissed him. Nope. Definitely don't think about the maybe-cousin, maybe-sister.

"For the record," Emma said quietly back to him as the reached the top of the grand stairway. "I've never known of someone only giving one chance. If you show someone that you really want them, you'll have them."

Emma took Wade's arm and descended the stairs, leaning in to whisper where nobody would hear. "What I'm saying, is that I bet you didn't 'fuck it up' nearly as much as you suspect."

"You are the sweetest little bug," he whispered back -- but then the time for whispering was over as they walked into old fashioned costume porn. The clothes were amazing and the people were all over and there was music and a shit ton of lights and Wade kind of wanted to go find a closet to jerk off in just to prove that all of this was real, but they were supposed to dance together, so that would have to wait.

A couple of people smiled and greeted them, apparently familiar with them, and Wade felt a little rush of giddiness. This would be a fun guessing game! Maybe. Unless it wasn't.

The dancing had not yet begun, and people were still arriving -- including the extremely handsome young Duke of Devonshire, who made Deadpool quietly squeak into her ear. "He looks just like Henry Cavill! But more serious! Ooooh, I bet he's got buns, hun. Oooh, ooh, and look over there at that other guy, the one who looks like Oberyn Martel from Game of Thrones? You probably don't watch Game of Thrones. But heeee is from Spain, and that chick over there, I mean that lady, or not-lady, or whatever, the one in the pink, said to the one in the green that someone said he's a pirate who has some reaaaal shady dealings to be in the, um, piercage.

"Okay is it kosher for me to dance with guys? Cause daaaamn. Not that you're not amaing, I just wanna dance with everyone. Shit. Emma. Babe. You've got to go talk to someone. What about that kind of sad, Richard Armitage looking guy over there? He's probably the maybe-kind, maybe-creepy widower of the story, right? I mean, kinda old. But so's the pirate I guess. Nice legs though. Nice. Fucking. Legs. Oh, shit. I should whisper more quietly. What are you thinking? Wait, no, don't answer that, go flirt with someone."

She blushed, but seemed to retreat within herself. While Wade might be the type to approach people and flirt and openly... whatever, Emma wasn't. She kept quiet, eyes on the ground, figuring nobody would really notice her. That was okay, though. Really. Attention made her uncomfortable. Talking about herself was... torture. She appreciated all of Wade's efforts. But really, she didn't think she could do the whole over the top flirting thing.

Her expression turned into a coy smile, however, when she noticed someone across the room. "What about the Ryan Reynolds looking guy in the corner? The one in the uniform? The one who hasn't glanced at me since we walked in, but I don't think he's stopped looking at you." Her grin turned friendly and she encouraged him with a little nod of her head that he should go. Their dance could be saved for another time. Just being here was enough for her.

Meanwhile, she took into consideration the few that Wade had pointed out. The Duke was handsome enough. He looked huge, more muscular than she imagined men being in this time, but it didn't much matter, did it. The second... quickly had a woman flocking to each arm. Women she couldn't compete with. And the last? Well, Emma had enough of her own sadness, and couldn't really muster the energy to deal with a man's depression during her only night here.

Still, she couldn't make herself approach any of them. It was improper since she hadn't been presented, or at least, she didn't think she had been, though several of these people greeted her by name, smiled at her, offered her a glass of wine, which she declined. Wade could have the man who had been staring at him. She would sit and watch people dance. And she would be content in doing so.

Wade's heart nearly stopped and when he turned to look, he gasped and his jaw dropped. No. No way. It couldn't be... But was it? He had to know, he had to know, there was no way they could both be sexy at the same time, be dressed as sexy as they were, and not be meant for greater things -- like making out.

"Be still my heart. Emma, oh, Emma! Why, he's a man of wax - and I aim to melt him." He kissed her on the cheek "I'll be back for the dance, I promise. Okay? Have fun. Don't be shy. You're beautiful. And if we're dead, and this is an afterlife, then these people are here to love you, right?" He took a step away, then turned back, scooped her up, and hugged her a little too tightly before practically bounding over towards the hottie with the hopefully naughty body and the very familiar face.

His antics caught the Duke's eye, and he looked over with surprise before abruptly smiling, something that seemed to surprise the company he was with. When he met Emma's eyes, he lost the smile for the most part, although enough remained to show that it was still there, at least on the inside. He bowed his head to her in greeting -- which, again, caused a bit of stir. Marcus Hollin was known for being entirely antisocial and cold, and only ever attended any social event to escort his younger sister, who was currently chirping and squeaking with a group of her friends.

It looked like Devonshire was about to come over to meet Emma, but someone touched his arm and diverted his attention -- just as a young man with shaggy, dark-blond hair bumped into Emma. He looked down, apologetic, and shuffled a bit awkwardly, clearly not entirely comfortable being here. "Sorry," he said, and he looked at her with worry in his sweet chocolate eyes. "Name's Oscar. Not sure I'm supposed to be out here. Talking to people. I was asked to find the... the... Count of Ampurias? But I'm not sure where he is, miss. Got a letter for him, for the um, I'm not supposed to say pirate, but..."