#but it forever amuses me that my brain is just that absorbed in things about them.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Just had the weirdest/funniest moment of quoting/saying something and then being like. Where is that from where did I get that from... oh! From Grem!! Grem says that!!! And then after like one or two seconds I'm like. NO. NO HE DOES NOT. HE DOES NOT EVER ONCE SAY THAT IN THE MOVIE THAT IS. SOMETHING I MADE UP IN MY HEAD THAT HE SAYS. Good grief.

[silasea]

Jasper,

Words can only do so much to describe what I’m feeling right now. Part of it i think is denial— and disbelief that you’re gone.

I remember the day you were born. I remember telling my mom that you were the cutest thing in the world. The head the size of an orange and eyes the size of grapes. You were so small, a premie my aunt explained. You came fighting into this world from day 1. You were the most adorable baby. Your cheeks would turn red from the amount of times I kissed them. I felt so protective of you like the others — from the start. You grew up to be wild free and rebellious, and you always needed to have the last word. All the tough love in the world couldn’t tame you — I learned that the hard way. As a child you were always calm. I jokingly would call you my favorite to tease the others. It’s funny how certain moments in life come full circle. I remember being very young and hearing my aunt cry late at night. A wail that I never wanted to hear again. Your sister had jokingly texted her that you had passed away in a car accident. I remember your mom’s sobs and cries, they’re etched into my brain. It had only been about 10 minutes until we found out that the whole thing was just some inappropriate joke, made by an innocent child who didn’t understand the depth of her words. I remember you coming home that night fine and healthy as ever and I remember hugging you so tight. God forbid anything ever happening like that I prayed. That night I had nightmares of losing you, and I’d wake up each morning making sure you were ok, hugging you extra tight.

I felt so protective of you. More like an older sister than a cousin. From our roast sessions to our Mario kart sessions to spontaneous trips to the amusement park, and your crazy pranks. I’ll choose to remember you in that light. And although we grew apart and life has its way of throwing shit at us, you were still my favorite cousin.

I remember the night last year, my mom finally broke the news of your accident. I froze and blanked out for a bit phasing back to that dreaded night of our childhood. This could not be happening. I remember reaching out to your sister and all she told me was to pray.

You were in the ICU and touch and go for a while and then you were better, and then you were sick again and then you got better again. You fought hard for almost a year. There was no doubt in my mind you were going to make it, you made your way out so many times. I was sure you would show up at my doorstep one day and everything would be in its right place. With you making your witty remarks and spreading your laughter. You had to make it. There was no future I had imagined without each and every one of you. Your mom was distraught and didn’t know how to handle it all. We were kept away from seeing you. She blamed my brother a lot for what happened. You loved to follow his footsteps. So when my brother got a motorcycle of course you wanted your own. I could understand her pain and her reason to blame us, as misguided as it was. But it killed us all not knowing how you were. Grief has strange ways of manifesting itself. I only got updates of you from my mom— whatever she could manage to find out from your grandmother. Your mom completely shut us out.

I can’t imagine the grief she must be going through now. All I can remember is her wails that dreaded night. Child loss is the hardest grief to experience. They teach you that in nursing school. All I want to do is hug your mom and sister—just to help absorb some of their sorrows. But time heals all, and that’s my only solace.

I can only end this by saying I will remember you forever in my heart. You’ll live through my thoughts. I will remember you by your laughter, your witty remarks and your rebellious and strong nature. I love you Puru. Forever and always.

Your favorite cousin,

— Jassu

[goldenraeofsun]

Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

 Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place. 

 * * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.” 

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

 * * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later. 

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks. 

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.” 

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

 * * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s. 

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.  

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

 * * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * * 

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right. 

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?” 

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach. 

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He  turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal. 

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

 * * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them. 

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair. 

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

[unbridgeabledistances]

okayyy so i had something heavier/hurt-comforty in the works as a gapfiller about mickey processing (bc we all need that!!!) but this fluffy little 3+1 about ian and mickey singing to each other happened instead— i hope u enjoy💞

a 3+1 of 3 times ian sang to mickey, and one time mickey sang to ian (to give context to the absolutely wild 11x09 serenade)

also the biggest shoutout to @southside-forever’s 80s gallavich playlist which has SO many bops and inspired bits of this😌

--

1.

Mickey didn’t really know when it all started— Ian was always fucking humming these days, always whistling or singing some tune under his breath when he came out of the shower. He was more buoyant recently, lighter— the security gig was going well, and these days it felt like something looming and heavy had lifted, releasing the crooked hunch out of Ian’s shoulders that had taken root the sour morning weeks before as he shoveled Fruit Loops and Jameson into his mouth. Since then, it felt like he and Ian were finally on the same goddamn page for once— like they had a purpose, like they were moving forward.

Or at least, moving forward on the weekdays— but today was a slow, lazy Saturday, and Mickey was still laying in bed in a tank top and boxers, sweaty and entangled in the crumpled sheets, laying back with his head on the pillow and playing some overly-gory sharpshooter game on his phone. He’d been trying to beat this fucking level a million times, but his thumb couldn’t move quickly enough at the pivotal moment when he had to shoot a bunch of enemy forces— he’d been at the game for a good half hour, since when Ian had sleepily stumbled off of the mattress sporting a full bedhead to go take a shower, and Mickey was starting to get a tinny, sharp headache from staring at his phone screen for too long. He was just starting to consider getting up, to peel off his sweaty tank top and head downstairs to grab some coffee— when Ian came into the room from his shower, a fraying towel wrapped around his lower half and his torso slick with excess water droplets. Mickey flickered his eyes up from his game for a moment, taking an… appreciative glance, and then quickly focused his attention back on his pixelated mission as Ian stood in front of the dresser in the cramped bedroom, and started to rustle through the drawers for a t-shirt.

Mickey maneuvered his buff video game avatar through a minefield, biting his lip in concentration— when his sharp focus was suddenly infiltrated by Ian, singing under his breath in an airy tone.

“Ooooooh we’re halfway there.”

Mickey gritted his teeth slightly and tried to pour all his attention into the pivotal moment of the level, but half of his mind was being pulled to listen to Ian’s gravelly voice, continuing to softly murmur to himself in a tone that was ridiculously off-key.

“She says we’ve gotta hoooold on, to what we’ve got—”

Mickey’s phone screen flickered. GAME OVER.

Mickey wanted to throw his phone at the fucking wall. He inhaled, then pressed “Start Game” again, one last time— and again, his focus was disrupted by Ian, singing under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and gently pattered his hands in a rhythm on the top of the dresser— which was endearing and sappy as fuck, sure, but it was not helping Mickey with the task at hand. Mickey puffed out a sharp, frustrated breath, keeping his eyes on his phone screen.

“The fuck are you singing for right now?”

Ian suddenly gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder as he rifled through their sock drawer, like he’d been caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

“Don’t know. Song was just stuck in my head I guess.”

Mickey glared at Ian, pressing his thumb to the screen to pause his game. “Cut that shit out.”

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull on his socks. “You should be thanking me for serenading you with your fucking eighties dad music. I could be singing Carly Rae Jepson right now, or some other pop bullshit that you hate.”

Mickey felt an involuntary, amused smirk split onto his face, and he tried to turn it into a scowl. Fucking adorable motherfucker.

“Okay, tough guy. If anything you should be thanking me for cleansing your ears from the techno garbage that you used to listen to.”

Ian gave a soft smile, shoulders turning fully towards Mickey now that he’d finished pulling on his socks— and then he turned and clambered into the bed, hovering above Mickey and causing Mickey’s fingers to go slack around his phone case. Mickey could smell the warm, freshly-showered scent of him, all cheap bar soap and Old Spice deodorant, and felt the soft press of his t-shirt through Mickey’s thin tank top— an overly worn t-shirt, one of Mickey’s, that stretched just a little too tight over Ian’s torso.

Ian looked down at Mickey, fucking beaming for some reason, his eyes light. He swooped down, pressing a soft, quick kiss above Mickey’s eyebrow. And then—

“Take my haaaand, we’ll make it I sweeear”

Mickey felt an involuntary, uncomfortable chuckle bubble up out of his ribcage. Was Ian fucking… singing? To him? It definitely seemed like it. And as much as he didn’t want it to, because this was fucking sappy and ridiculous and… well, gay— Mickey couldn’t help the fact that his husband leaning over him, breathily singing the tune of one of their goddamn wedding songs in his husky tone-deaf voice, made Mickey’s blood run a little bit hotter; which was bullshit, because absolutely nothing about this should be hot, and it was probably the most disgustingly married thing that Mickey could think of— but apparently everything about Ian, every dorky and fucking god-awful cringey thing that he did, was a turn-on, or at least according to Mickey’s thudding heartbeat and sweaty palms right now.

Ian’s face was still hovering centimeters above his, his eyebrows raised triumphantly and sporting a sappy fucking grin, like he knew how affected Mickey was by this, no matter how much Mickey grumbled and complained and tried to hide it.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just leaned down again, kissing up the slope of Mickey’s neck and biting at his earlobe—and, okay, maybe Mickey could get behind Ian’s singing after all.

 2.

Ian’s singing was starting to get fucking ridiculous— and as much as it made something deep inside Mickey feel a light pang of relief, to see Ian being his old bubbly self again in the rhythms of routine and held by the safety net of financial stability because of the security gig that made the air between them less stale, it also meant that they were also around each other pretty much 24/7, and Ian’s serenades were starting to get relentless.

While they pretty much had a common ground in liking nostalgic 80s music, they would still inevitably argue about what music to play in the ambulance every morning— and whatever shitty album they eventually chose to put on, whether it was Ian’s pop garbage of Mickey’s mellower 80s tunes, Ian’s brain would apparently absorb all the songs like a fucking sponge and he’d start singing them all day long—in the kitchen, in the shower, even when they were just laying in bed on their phones and Ian would constantly hum absentmindedly.

Today they were driving to some bougie dispensary in Glencoe, near a bunch of ridiculous mansions on the very outskirts of the city, and it was Ian’s turn to pick the music— Mickey usually elected one of the well-loved CDs that he’d jammed into the glove compartment as they were refurbishing the ambulance, CDs that he’d kept since he was a kid when he piled them high in the corner of his grimy room next to a half-broken boombox— but as much as they were Mickey’s comfort CDs, Ian could only listen to Bon Jovi so many times before he started to slander 80s music as a collective genre.

“Can we just listen to something by someone who isn’t older than us, just this once?”

“Easy for you to say, Gallagher. At least the music that I like has fucking words.”

When it was Ian’s turn to pick the music, he usually picked more modern stuff with heavy beats and a thrumming bass (though more often than not he also appeased Mickey’s tastes with some “80s throwback” playlist he’d found on Spotify that he’d noticed Mickey would bob his head along to)—but on longer drives, like this one, it was easy to butt heads about the soundtrack. Ian had allowed Mickey to play through one of his Queen CDs that morning, and then Ian had put on some whiny indie bullshit from a playlist on his phone for the other half of the drive— now they were heading home after a long day, with the stereo turned low to a local radio station.

They’d settled into a comfortable silence, as they often did at the end of the day when their energy faded— Ian had stopped pattering his hands on the steering wheel like he usually did when he was amped up and buzzing with energy in the mornings, and Mickey could tell they were both ready to collapse onto the couch the second they set foot in the door.

Mickey blew out a deflated breath and reached to turn up the radio, tuning in to some middle-aged host with a cheery voice chattering about the heat wave in Chicago that upcoming weekend—and then the airwaves went silent, and there was the overdramatic sound of a slamming door and a gospel choir.

Ian’s ears nearly fucking perked up at the sound as the opening chords began.

“Life is a mystery… Everyone must stand alone…”

Ian immediately raised his voice to join in, the tired slouch leaving his shoulders.

“I hear you call my naaaame”

He turned to Mickey and pointed overdramatically, causing Mickey to shove his arm away but unable to quell the overly fond grin that he knew was blooming on his face.

“And it feels like… home.”

The beat dropped, rolling into the chorus, and Ian energetically drummed his hands against the steering wheel once more.

“C’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed, throwing his head back dramatically as he sang while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there.” Ian’s pitchiness clashed with the melody, but he was too focused on singing and bopping side to side in this seat to really care.

Mickey rolled his eyes, his lips still turned upwards at the corners while he watched his absolute dork of a husband jamming to Madonna. “Isn’t this song about giving someone a blowjob or some shit?”

Ian gave an easygoing laugh. “Technically, yes. And it’s also definitionally a gay anthem, which means you have to sing with me.”

Mickey scoffed and flipped Ian off. “Fuck off.”

Ian raised a playful eyebrow, and continued to sing with relentless eye contact:

“It’s like a dreeeeam, no end and no beginning”

Mickey felt heat rise into his cheeks against his will. No fucking way was he going to sing a Madonna song about a blowjob stone-cold sober at 2pm on a Tuesday while driving home from work with his fucking husband—which, wow, that was probably the gayest sentence that had ever crossed Mickey’s mind in his 26 years of existence (which was definitely saying a lot).

This wasn’t ever a place Mickey thought he’d be in— sitting beside Ian so comfortably, singing fucking songs while they drove home from their daily commute; getting to soak up all the warmth, all the brightness that had always radiated out of Ian so intensely that it nearly blinded him, a warmth that he’d always wanted to lean in closer to even when they were just scrawny kids in a shitty neighborhood still figuring everything out.

Maybe, just maybe— it was okay to lean in a little more.

By the time the chorus rolled around the third time, Mickey was begrudgingly humming along, like he usually did whenever the songs that Ian was singing on and endless loop got stuck in his own head and popped up while he was brushing his teeth or making toast for breakfast— by the time the final rhythmic chorus faded to silence on the radio waves, Mickey glanced over at Ian, singing at the top of his lungs, face slightly flushed and grinning ear to ear.

“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there.”

3.

Ian and Mickey were walking down the moonlit sidewalk, veering back home after an evening at Lip’s— the night had honestly been weirdly enjoyable, which was definitely a welcome reprieve from all of Lip and Debbie’s intense back-and-forths about the house over the past few weeks. Tami and Lip had needed to go over to Brad and Cami’s for some bullshit crisis management about the stolen bikes, and Ian had readily agreed to watch Freddie— which meant that whether he liked it or not, Mickey had spent his Friday evening at Lip’s half-packed apartment watching Ian coo over a one-year-old, which was… not a totally unwelcome sight.

Trying to keep his shit together, Mickey had snapped a picture to send to the Gallagher family group chat, and everyone had immediately given them shit about being so eager to babysit and get their hands on a toddler like a couple of baby-crazed newlyweds—which had caused Mickey to start overzealously complaining in the groupchat to compensate while Ian occupied Freddie. Kev had noticed the texts and swung by Lip and Tami’s house after closing the Alibi to keep the two of them company, bringing by a pack of beers—and now he and Ian were warm and happily buzzed, relieved of their babysitting duties and walking the chilly city streets back towards the Gallagher house.

Halfway through the walk Ian had interlaced their fingers, and now their arms were swinging slightly as they turned the final corner to walk down the last stretch of pavement towards the chain-link fence—when suddenly, Ian stopped cold a few houses away from the Gallagher front porch. He looked down at Mickey, raising their entangled hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of Mickey’s wrist.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Ian just looked back at him—his cheeks glowing pink from the few beers, his eyes light and unguarded under the streetlamps.

“This spot reminded me of something.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Of fucking course it did. Ian was a sappy motherfucker on the best of days, but with a couple of beers in him he was practically uncontrollable.

“What?”

All of a sudden Ian let go of his hand, punching into the air dramatically.

“Cause love is a battlefiiiield”

Mickey laughed, feeling warm hot blood rush to his cheeks in delight—and fuck, he loved his husband so goddamn much. And just this once, mostly because of the own alcohol running thick in his bloodstream, Mickey made the lurching decision to join in, stepping closer towards Ian and raising his hands equally as dramatically.

“No promises, no demands”

“Woooooah”

Ian had practically doubled over with laughter, tears welling in the corner of his eyes—and Mickey let himself get lost in it, the warm feeling buzzing through his body, of love and joy and fuck knows what else, getting to sing on a fucking street corner with his husband a decade after everything had gone so gut-wrenchingly wrong, leaving him bleeding on this same pavement.

They stumbled over their own feet up the stairs, fumbling out of their clothes and collapsing into bed—and later, just as Mickey was on the brink of fading into unconsciousness, Ian mumbled the same refrain into the crook of Mickey’s neck in a sleepy voice, like the song was still stuck in his head and he just couldn’t help it.

“Love is a battlefield.”

4.

It was late— it was one of those slow, tender nights when the past was hanging heavy over them, laying pressed together in bed as thin streams of moonlight poured in through the blinds, pressing whispers into each other’s skin about all of the hurt and the doubt that had been seeped up and healed with time.

Ian was sprawled back on the bed and Mickey was laying with his head resting on his chest, feeling his ribcage expand and contract each time he took a breath. They’d absorbed so much the past few weeks— the sick, twisted blows of a loss that felt all the more jagged and painful because of how muddled the grief for Terry was—but after a few days had passed they’d found a place to settle, in the comforting press of the silence in their bedroom.

Mickey was mindlessly playing with Ian’s fingers, listening to his steady breathing—and without thinking, he ran a finger over the cool silver of Ian’s wedding band, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I still can’t believe we’re married sometimes, man.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s lips curve upward into a smile from where his mouth was pressed against the top of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah, me either.”

And Mickey felt something bubbling, something welling— and he didn’t ever fucking sing, not unless Ian made him, but Ian was always fucking dropping song lines into sappy moments like this.

So he took a breath, and, half-singing but mostly talking, in a way that sounded almost mocking if it wasn’t so soft around the edges, he let out into the dark silence of the room:

“At last….”

He wasn’t even singing, not really—he was just sort of… saying the words in a singsongy way, but he knew that Ian could tell what he was doing, what he was trying to do. He was trying to be as fucking sweet and soft and pliant as Ian was, as Ian always was in moments like this, in a way that sometimes made Mickey feel brittle and hard in comparison. This time, Mickey wanted to breathe out the love he had for him into this moment, the love that made his ribcage feel like it was going to fucking burst— a love that he felt erupting outwards when Ian had played this song for him for the first time a few weeks before the wedding, and had asked with a shy smile, “D’you think it’d be okay if you walked down the aisle to this song?”

Ian’s chest shook with laughter, and he carded a hand through Mickey’s hair. And then, in his gentle, sleep-soft voice, in a breathy tone that tickled the shell of Mickey’s ear:

“My looove has come along”

Mickey rolled his eyes fondly, just to prove something to himself, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him—and then he reached a hand upward and leaned back, drawing Ian’s chin forward to press his lips to his for a brief, lingering moment.

Mickey settled back against Ian’s chest again, and felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head. He smiled contentedly, closing his heavy eyelids.

Maybe being a couple of sappy motherfuckers wasn’t so bad.

[tiaragqueen]

Yandere azul, crowley and vil headcanons please

… I just realized that I’ve made the worst pun in Crowley part, and I feel weirdly proud of it.

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

Yandere! Azul Ashengrotto

🐙 Azul is greedy yet insecure. He absorbs every drop of your affection and is always thirsty for more. He isn’t above whining and guilt-tripping you when he feels that your attention has strayed. All of this happens behind the closed door since he can’t risk ruining his reputation. Nobody will believe you that the shady Azul is actually very sensitive and clingy except, of course, the eel twins.

🐙 If you’re immune to his whines and inky cries, then he can always blackmail you. Azul might be charming, smoothly bringing up your favorite topics and getting you to talk for hours, but it’s just the good part. The bad part is he knows almost everything about you, thanks to Jade. It’s unnerving to hear him listing off things that you thought nobody saw or should’ve known with that calm and calculated face. Well, you don’t want other students to learn about your ‘little’ secrets, do you? Even if they seem insignificant, it’ll definitely impact your reputation, you know? Do you want the others to know how ‘scandalous’ the new student is?

🐙 Azul isn’t very athletic, so in the instance where you’re able to escape him somehow, he’ll order the twins to get you. And that’s how he lured you in the first place, with their freakish charm and seeming kindness. He’s very reliant to them, and although the twins aren’t the most reliable people around, Azul's love life is certainly interesting enough for them to lend a hand once in a while. And honestly, with them as your pursuers, how high is the chance of you leaving the Octavinelle dorm – let alone asking for someone’s help? Most students are probably more afraid of them to bother assisting you, and even if one of them pities you, he’ll either suffer in their hands or being ordered by Azul to return you.

🐙 Despite his notoriety, Azul is very hardworking and organized. Regardless of how far you flee, you can guarantee that he’ll give it his all to search for you. Land, water, or air, it doesn’t matter. He’ll use his vast connection and big brain to keep you with him. And if you, for some reason, choose to go to the ocean – well, that just makes everything better, no? You can run however fast you are at land, but in water, he’s the king. And there’ll be nowhere for you to go other than his grasp because, surely, you don’t want to know what kind of horror that waits for you in the trenches, right?

Yandere! Dire Crowley

🎭 You can bet that he’s gonna prolong your stay and spout every excuse possible when questioned, regardless of how vague or downright ridiculous, it sounded. Despite how useless he can be, especially in dire situations, he holds the most authority at school. And what can an ‘alien’ like you do against him when he’s the only one who can return you to your world? No matter how many times he boasts about his so-called kindness, he can’t deny the sadistic pleasure of having you dance in his palm.

🎭 But yandere Crowley will be a little more attentive, such as bringing you food, asking the teachers to be a bit lenient towards you, and questioning your well-being and life in NRC. It’s not enough for people to start suspecting him as playing favorites, but it’s apparent that he’s nicer to you than to others. And obviously, he’ll dismiss it as him being ‘kind’. Isn’t it his job to care for his students, especially a magic-less one like you? You’re basically the weakest, after all.

🎭 He’ll stalk you, too. Sometimes he appears before you out of nowhere, almost resembling Lilia, and sometimes he transforms into a crow to avoid unwanted attention. He’ll watch you mind your business and occasionally chuckles to himself whenever you do something amusing. Oh, how cute you are, struggling to execute things that an ordinary magician can easily solve! He truly pities you... sometimes.

🎭 Once your patience finally ran out due to his vagueness and overall unreliability, he’ll swoop in and destroy the mirror right before your eyes. Where do you think you’re going? The lessons aren’t over yet. Don’t you want to become a great mage? It’s not good to half-ass things, you know, especially when he’s sacrificed so much to get you to this prestigious school with your lack of magic. So shouldn’t you thank him for his efforts? Doing odd jobs doesn’t count, you know? The only way to repay him is to stay here forever and be a good student for him. You’ll do that, won’t you? He’s your headmaster, after all. Therefore, his orders are absolute.

Yandere! Vil Schoenheit

💜 If he’s already strict to his dorm mates, then how much more strict can he be to you? Vil is a perfectionist in beauty, so it’s already expected of him to fuss over you, too. No more eye bags, sleeping late, sitting with your back hunched, or God forbids late-night snacks. You have to keep your appearance because the lover of Schoenheit has to exalt him as well. Even a stray hair is absolutely unforgivable!

💜 He’ll drill into your tiny brain all sort of manners only royalty would learn. Keep your back straight! Stand tall! Maintain your composure at all times! Don’t skip your meals! Don’t fidget! He has no problem repeating this until your ears bleed. You wonder what kind of things have you done in the past to deserve this, and frankly, it’s not even the worst part.

💜 Vil won’t hesitate to poison you if you prove to be more handful than he thought. He already has Epel to deal with; he can’t afford anymore nuisance, especially from his lover! It comes as a great disappointment for him to see you fighting him as if you know better than him. He’s not a dorm leader for nothing, you know? And he’ll ensure you learn this fact as he spills a few drops of purple liquid into your drink. Have you forgotten how he earned his title in the first place? Or how powerful Pomefiore students are when it comes to making potions?

💜 You thought you have little freedom with him, but in a love-struck state, there’s no such thing as autonomy anymore. This situation only comes when he becomes weary of your rebellion, so ensures you don’t anger him too much. It’s hard and probably challenging to your mental health, but at least, it’s a bit better than being a living doll for him to decorate as he pleases. Literally.

[thebigqueer]

Prompt: Catradora in a Camp Half-Blood Au 👀

pawing Adora this one’s for you babe <3 i hope you like this cursed content <3 this is possibly an even more cursed concept than bilco <3333

thank you for the prompt (/s) and as always: i rarely do any editing on these fic prompts, if at all. this won’t be my absolute best work, so please don’t be too judgmental about it!

also welcome to my first catradora fic ig?????? HAHAHAHA

A strong light bears down over the palace floor, glinting off of the shiny metal object in Bow’s hands. He watches over the three girls cautiously, a look of determination in his eyes. Silently, Adora feels as if she’s being tested. She stands straighter in the hopes that she’ll seem more responsible. 

Catra’s hand grasps hers, fingertips against fingertips. Adora’s chest warms at the mere feeling of Catra next to her. They’ve only been together for a few weeks, but each touch, each embrace, each word and motion and sound seems like a new story. She smiles, despite knowing that Bow’s watching her. 

“Okay,” the archer says, eyes glued to the product in his hands. “So, here’s the plan.” Bow begins to pace, his footsteps lightly tapping against the shiny floor. There’s a nervous edge to him; Adora suspects he’s anxious about the mission. 

She reaches out to stop him in his tracks, but Glimmer beats her to it. The queen balances her fingers gently over his shoulder, a smile sparkling over her lips. “Hey, it’ll be cool.”

“What’s going on?” Catra asks, pulling her fingers out of Adora’s grasp. She opts to cross her arms over her chest, pushing a curious yet bored expression over her features. “Why is Nerd Boy over there so anxious?”

Bow stops in his tracks suddenly and sighs. The metal item shivers in his trembling grasp. The light from overhead flashes over his face, illuminating a look Adora knows so well: feral, anxious excitement. 

A small smile covers his face. “Okay, so I was doing some experimenting, and I got Entrapta to work on this with me. We were talking about that portal thing that Hordak had made a while ago.”

For a moment, he pauses, a darkness sweeping over his eyes. Adora’s heart stutters by the sudden mention of the fateful day. Catra looks away as a flush blows through her cheeks. A shiver takes over the four in the room. 

I almost lost her, Adora thinks in despair. Her fingers itch for Catra’s again, just wanting to make sure she’s really here, that she’s really alive and breathing and really, really Adora’s. 

Thankfully, as if understanding Adora’s silent request, Catra slips her fingers into hers again. 

Bow clears his throat. “Uh, anyway. We got to thinking... what if there are other realities? Things outside of our own universe?” Excitement seeps into his voice and his eyes glimmer with energy. He’s practically bursting through his seams. Adora can’t help but to smile; she’s just happy to have things go back to their normal, casual ways. 

Catra groans. “Oh, god, are you serious? Another alternative-reality thing? Didn’t we already live through enough of those for a life time?”

Bigger holds his hands out in a placating gesture, tipping his head. “Yes, technically, we have. But... I think this is going to be so cool! I think we figured out the logistics of it, and we made this little...” He gestures vaguely at the item in his hands, then shrugs. “I don’t know what to call it. I’ll need to come up with a name later. But the point is that I want you guys to adventure into it.” 

“What?” Catra shrieks, her voice cracking. The fur over her arms stands on end as she stares at Bow, an astonished look coming over her feline features. “You want us to go?”

“Look, I know it sounds bad, but-”

“Absolutely not!” she protests, stamping her foot down on the floor. A frustration creeps over her as she steps towards Bow, jabbing her finger in his direction. “Didn’t we just go through a whole universe-ending ordeal with Horde Prime? What do you think this will do to us?”

“Okay, I know it doesn’t sound very promising,” Bow admits, his eyes tense with understanding, “but just trust me. I think this would be really important to future negotiations.” 

“Let me guess,” Catra mutters, rolling her eyes, “you want us to try it out?” 

All of a sudden, Bow drops to his knees, hands glued together as if praying to the girls. “Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?” he pleads, a pout on his lips. “We have backups ready for you! If anything goes wrong, I’ll teach you what to do. We’ll still be in contact, so you can easily tell us if something’s up and we’ll bring you back.” 

Catra merely scoffs as if the entire idea is wasteful of her time. She stares at Adora, her blue and yellow eyes peering at her as if asking if she can even believe all this. “Adora, what do you say? Should we do it?”

Adora will admit, there’s a bubble of excitement in her chest billowing up. As much as she loves that things are more relaxed now, she’s getting bored; she’s going after new adventures but has found none. This entire plan may be stupid, but she’s willing to do it anyway.

Catra, watching her features shift from curiosity to excitement, groans. “Of course. I knew you’d want to do something stupid like this.” 

“Hey!” Adora protests, leaning towards her. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I want to go, though.” She steps closer to Catra, a mischievous smile stretching across her mouth. “I won’t force you to do anything, but I’m just saying... If you come with me, we get to have some more time together.” She raises her eyebrow. “You know, like old times. Do some trouble around the place.” 

Adora knows it isn’t fair of her to use their past together to convince Catra to come with her, but she really wants to do this with her. It’ll be their first adventure together in forever.

After a moment’s of hesitation, Catra sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

~

About an hour later, the girls stand in the palace grounds courtyard. Darkness spills over the sky, fighting a battle with the golden light seeping from the palace. 

Bow hands Adora the metal item, gesturing to the several buttons as he instructs, “Press this one when I tell you to. Then press this one when you get there. I don’t know where it will take you exactly, but if my math is right, it’ll be a little bit far from here. Don’t worry.” 

Adora found that ironic, since Bow looks plenty worried. 

He swallows, eyes shaking, then keeps going. “Okay, and if you need help or need to contact us, just press this.” He gestures to a small red button on the side of the box. “We should be able to communicate at any point. And this thing can last hours, so don’t worry too much.” 

Catra shivers next to Adora, a pout over her lips. “I still don’t like this plan.” 

“You could easily step out of it,” Adora points out, nudging her. She grins. “But you love me, so that’s stopping you, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Catra grumbles. 

Bow clears his throat. “If you guys are done...”

The blonde girl throws her arm around Catra, feeling the other girl’s warmth under her skin. Catra pretends to struggle but Adora doesn’t miss the way she leans into her. A glowing smile blooms against her lips. 

“Okay, now, press that button on my count,” Bow informs, nodding towards the metal box in Adora’s hands. 

Her stomach flutters with nervousness, beating and battering against her insides. It seems that only moments ago she was prepared for this, but now, with her friends staring at her, with this cool metal in her hands, she feels only a dread. 

But she pushes through that. She bites her bottom lip and nods. Slipping her fingers through Catra’s again, she tips her head at Bow. “Let’s do it.” 

Bow counts down from three, his voice trembling. Catra’s muscles tense under Adora’s fingers, but she keeps holding on.

“Three,” he mutters, “two.... one!”

Adora presses the large blue button on the box. The world disintegrates around her.

~ 

If Adora could explain the experience, all she could say is that it’s crazy. That’s it. Because she can’t really remember anything except for the whirlwind of chaos, the vibrant purple of the hole in the universe, the speed of being thrown across dimensions. 

It feels as though it’s been hours and microseconds at the same time; time doesn’t exist but surrounds her. Her body stretches out and shrinks in, her very cells tingling with pain. 

And then, all of a sudden, it stops. Catra crashes into her, and together they slam against something hard. Adora’s body bursts with pain with the sudden contact. Nausea roils in her stomach and she feels as though she’s still hurtling through the abyss. 

The faint murmurs of voices drift into her ears, but she can barely understand them. Pain washes over her in waves and she only lets them crash against her. She’s too exhausted to move. 

Catra shuffles next to her, groaning. A faint breeze brushes past Adora, its calmness significantly more relaxing than the pain still racking her body. 

It takes her a few moments before the world stops spinning out of her control. Another groan spills from her and she rubs her head. She absorbs the cool breeze in the hopes that it will calm her. 

Her eyelids flutter, dapples of light spilling into her eyes. She’s momentarily blinded by the golden rays, but after pawing at her eyes, they adjust to the brightness. Green trees surround her, practically glowing in the light. Grass scratches underneath her palms.

“Where are we?” Catra mutters next to her, slowly sitting up.

“I don’t know...” Adora admits. Her brain feels fuzzy, static, confused. She feels as though she’s still trapped in-between dimensions.

Voices drift through her ears again, and she turns. A scream almost escapes from somewhere deep within her chest when she realizes the amount of beings standing by, watching her and Catra. 

Catra gasps and scrambles next to her, her breathing ragged. The beings stare at the two girls in their own shock as well. 

“Is that a... cat girl?” a blond boy asks, his voice dripping with amusement.

Another person steps forward, their dark hair sweeping over their eyes. They’re clouded over with something dark, something deep. They seem as though they’ve seen a lot of things. 

“It’s coming,” he says. “The universes are colliding.” 

[pugh-bug]

Scott Lang x reader

Chapter 2

I apologise this is a long chapter but domesticated Avengers makes me happy. If you’re reading this it’s meant to be a slow burnnn so enjoy the burning, the Tony x reader friendship and Thor being domesticated. If you like unsmashed lamps this chapter may be hard for you to read I’m sorry.

Warnings: none. unless you count archers breaking things.

You opened your weary eyes but everything was still black. Something warm was brushing against your face. You were warm... and in bed. ‘Please tell me I’m in my own bed.’ Without moving your splitting head you had no idea who could hear you until the unmistakable voice of Thor replied ‘It’s your own.’ He sounded amused. Somehow you felt well rested and more tired than you’d felt since Scott kept you up all night showing you card tricks, all at the same time. Although out of all the occupants in Stark Tower, Parker tired you out the most. The child. He was lucky you liked him.

Groaning you rolled over and face dived into your pillow clenching your eyes closed. Of course it was your bed. No one else’s smelt this good. Unless you’d gone nose blind as that weird advert went. ‘What day is it?’ You felt ridiculous asking but wasn’t this how you were supposed to behave? Youth? because Peter was in the minority being so morally well adjusted.

‘Sunday.’ That voice woke you up. ‘Y/N we can leave if you really want to sleep for another hundred years,’ you finally opened your eyes to see a much happier Scott smiling at you. Next to him was a smiling Thor glancing outside at the blue sky like a bird and a Peter looking apprehensive. You weren’t sure what as wrong with him he didn’t have the worst hangover of all time.

‘Come on get up,’ Scott spoke to you like you were five which just made you scowl... like a five year old. Looking mockingly scared Scott raised his hands up in ‘defeat’. ‘Okay don’t get up. I’ll just eat all the delicious pancakes Thor made myself.’

Thor snapped out of his bird watching trance to grunt before nodding ‘Yes. I’m afraid they are delicious.’ What did you do to deserve such generosity? And how could you resist pancakes? Oh but bed or pancakes?

‘These are amazing!’ You exclaimed (you had chosen pancakes). Thor grinned at your compliment as you ate like a rabid dog. Scott closed all the kitchen cupboards - he was such a dad sometimes - before leaning on the worktop facing you. ‘I’m glad you like them ,’ Thor remarked before finishing his breakfast and going to presumably get a shower leaving you with your favourite ant and third wheeling spider.

‘S- so I have an assignment due next month which is gonna take forever but Mr Stark-‘ as Peter launched himself into a long winded story about homework Scott caught your eye and smirked. You felt as if you were speaking in code. He watched you listen to your friends tangled tale with as much enthusiasm as you could muster despite your hangover. It seemed to amuse him.

‘And I was thinking who do I know that knows a lot about this sort of stuff? Y/N but I didn’t know how to ask y-‘

Scott gave you his best: can-you-believe-this-shit look and chuckled quietly keeping his eyes on yours. You smiled back but tried not to laugh - not wanting to upset Peter. Scott wasn’t as used to him as you were. He must have felt ancient beside someone as young and sprightly as the kid because even you felt middle aged in comparison. Luckily Peter had the attention span of a little child so before Scott could even try and think about asking him to leave he was off. Where? Chasing butterflies and doing something you did not need to know about.

You swallowed your words before they came out once Peter had left you and Scott alone. He was washing up and you weren’t even bothering to offer to do it instead. The hangover brain was strong and you didn’t even remember drinking never mind being pissed. Just as you watched him wash the final plate Scott turned to look at you. ‘You don’t even remember what you did last night do you?’

Oh fuck. Shit. What did you do? What could you have done? How could Scott tell you didn’t know? Was he turning into a psychic because of the quantum realm? It wouldn’t surprise you. Less and less shit did since moving to Stark Tower.

‘No. How can you tell? Have you absorbed Charles Xavier’s powers?’ Thank god the panic didn’t show in your voice for a change because otherwise all those oscar worthy performances you gave in the shower would have been a waste of time. Scott’s face pulled into a smug smile as he sat down at the breakfast table you hadn’t left.

‘Oh poor Y/N,’ he pulled a mocking sad face and used his creepy high pitched voice you hated. ‘Is someone confused?’ He was revelling in having the upper hand for a change.

‘Funny. You’re funny. Now tell me what I did or didn’t do last night before I throw this plate at you.’ You both knew you would never throw a plate at his cute face. It wouldn’t be worth the lecture of Steve on manners either. Steve. What could he possibly teach you about manners - they were fucking impeccable?

‘That’s not asking nicely.’

Your stomach contracted slightly as you could almost visualise the two pathways the conversation could lead to. His eyes were burning into yours with a new intensity you’d never seen in Scott before. It made your mouth dry and you cheeks burn up slightly. You felt like you’d been shoved into an oven without warning.

‘Fine,’ he refused to break eye contact with you and it was infuriating in a way. You willed him to stop as if he could in fact mind read. ‘Please just tell me what happened.’ Normally you only took this tone with Tony, you couldn’t help but wonder if in a weird way it meant you were getting closer to Scott. Atleast more comfortable. That would help you make less of a spectacle of yourself on a daily basis (not that that wasn’t fun but- ).

He told you that it wasn’t as bad as everyone was making out but you had decided to play beer pong with Thor and lost. Badly. You’d apparently cried when Clint said he didn’t want to play just dance and stormed off like a grumpy toddler who couldn’t get her own way.

‘Jeez,’

‘I know. You’re classy.’

‘I can be classy!’

Scott snorted at your outrage, downing the last of his orange juice while you sat in mock disbelief. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’ Okay noted. Scott didn’t think ripped fishnets were classy. Interesting. His ex wife was classy - ah let’s not open that door.

‘I didn’t throw up did I?’ You finally asked the burning question every hungover Gen Z member had to ask. He ran his hands through his dark hair but you refused to let your eyes linger for too long. ‘No you didn’t.’ This was followed by a cat like stretch he seemed to revel in performing. You heard the bones in his wrists crack and narrowed your eyes at him because you couldn’t think of what else to say. He didn’t seem interested in speaking either, he was blank. Fuck it. You knew when to let a conversation end.

‘I’m gonna shower.’ and as you left Scott alone in the kitchen to find the bathroom empty you smiled: if Scott had been 18 he would have said ‘without me?’ and thank god he wasn’t. You liked your older men immature in some ways (the fun ways) but pick me boys you could not abide. Scott was certainly not one.

After you’d sucked any joy out of showering dry by obsessing over how sad Scott may or may not be about his ex wife (or if he wanted advice) you dried yourself. You were 18 what advice could you have for the man? Middle aged men did seem to come to you for advice despite your own doubts and lack of experience. When Steve had been left out of a mission because of another fight with Bucky you practically became his mother consoling the drama queen. Tony called it ‘hilarious’ but you had a different word for the experience. That being said you wouldn’t mind listening to all of Scott’s problems on a loop on a fucking tape but bias is bias.

The walk to Tony’s obnoxiously large living room was short from the bathroom. The sound of the cold tile against your bare feet was all you could hear for a moment before the sound of-

‘Shit. Shit!’

Clint.

You entered the crime scene cold and confused, your wet hair was dripping cold down your back making you shiver. Stood in front of the tv flaming at the nostrils was a pissed off yet guilt ridden Clint Barton looking down at his handiwork. Lay on the floor was the lamp you’d bought Tony for his birthday. Smashed.

Nat was scowling at the archer lecturing him on how to carry things like a cross teacher. Wanda, Vision, Bucky and Steve were less concerned. You weren’t concerned at all it was a fucking £10 lamp. ‘Nat it’s fine it was an accident it’s just a lamp.’ You interrupted her scolding which gained you a sympathetic smile from Clint. His eyes said thank you. Nat did not seem convinced but swallowed her pride and calmed down anyway.

You scanned the room until your eyes met Scott, which you knew you needed to stop doing so often. There they were. Pointing back at you : a mixture of humour and the sadness you couldn’t stop noticing even if no one else did. You caved first and smiled at him. It was impossible not to.

‘Are we forgetting he’s a millionaire?’ Scott laughed at his own comment.

‘Excuse me, billionaire.’ Tony revelled in correcting people on how much money he had. How many cars he owned was a fun one too or how many times he’d redesigned everything in the house because he was ‘bored.’ Nat rolled her eyes in your direction which you quickly returned.

‘Really? Billionaire?’ Scott couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His voice was so high and his eyes were so wide you just grinned at his adorable face. Bless him. He knew nothing about Tony’s empire. What no one wanted was Scott’s lack of knowledge to end in a long speech from the billionaire about his life story. No one would stay for that.

‘I bought you churros. You said I had to pay for everyone’s.’ Scott sounded as if he could cry, so naturally everyone laughed. Even Vision. You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him laugh before, it was so sweet. ‘Well I’m sure you’ll survive.’ Tony’s signature eyebrow raise was code for I’m-better-than-you.

Once everyone got up to get drinks and choose a film Scott snaked his arm onto your shoulder startling you. Everyone was on the other side of the room and no one was looking. There was a chance Tony was to see if you made a fool of yourself but you could live with that. ‘You jump so easily,’ he was not wrong. Everything startled you. ‘Did you know how much money Tony made?’

His hand left your shoulder, making you fight the urge to sigh in disappointment from the lack of touch. He sounded genuinely curious. Why he was fixating on Tony’s money you did not know. He didn’t steal anymore.

‘Everyone does. Why are you so interested? Are you planning a heist?’

Scott’s face changed. He was stood so close to you if either one of you moved there’d be no space to breathe. You wondered if he would ever fucking notice your ‘little crush’ on him or if it would continue like this forever. Would that be so bad? No. It would make more sense.

‘If I was you could be my accomplice.’ He sounded so confident. Of course it was a joke but still .. you? A criminal?

‘Hmm ... I think Nat would be a better choice.’ He smiled down at you as his hand found its way back to your shoulder. His touch, even in a non sexual way, made you feel like putty.

‘Sure she can come too. You’d be better company though, she’s a bit scary.’ You both laughed and then he was back to the sofa with the others. It took you a moment of standing around like an idiot taking Scott’s words in before you could join them.

Better company. Better company. Better company that a Russian assassin? Did that really mean much?

Taglist: @supraveng

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

The Backstage Pass (Out)

Hey everyone... this is still not an update of Do You Wanna Dance? but another pathetic attempt of me to provide you with PJ-related reading material... Sssooo, there was this post of @gardenofstoney... and I’ve always taken tags verry seriously. I felt addressed since the situation she described sounded absolutely like a perfect fanfic material so I ended up playing with the idea. One thing led to another and a Stone Gossard one-shot happened, which I hereby share with you (with her and @mookiebaelock’s consent). Disclaimer: may contain traces of Jeff Ament!

Ps. I solemnly swear I get Judy out of the shower soon.

„Are you sure you don’t want to move towards the side of the stage? These Vedder-fanatics seem pretty dangerous, I’m not sure I want to be here when they go wild…” Mel asked fidgeting with the setups of her professional camera.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m fine here…” Maggie answered leaning her forehead against her arms that were resting on the barrier. She was dog-tired; she and her best friend, Mel were cueing the whole day to get there at the show of their favorite band, Pearl Jam. Actually, Pearl Jam was their second favorite band but it was the rock group that brought them together. They saw each other’s introduction in the “Pen Pal Wanted” column of Footsteps, the band’s fanzine and the rest was history... And finally, they were there, standing at their precious front row places, waiting for the show to begin…

They agreed on standing in front of the center of the stage since they both had different preferences… Mel was dying to make close shots of her bassist crush (and maybe steal a few smiles and glances from him), while Maggie was interested in the other side of the stage… to be more accurate, in the person who regularly ruled it. Stone Gossard. The absent-minded, aloof alien who played the rhythm guitar parts and who, unfortunately, wasn’t the most responsive member of the band. He was said to be a sarcastic, hilarious and nice guy but at shows he just… didn’t give a shit about the crowd. He was usually absorbed in the songs, following the rhythm with his entire body, marching to the beat or just bobbing his head… but that was all. No interaction, no communication, just the chords. If Maggie had been alone there, she would have picked his side and stayed there as if she had been pinned to the ground… but Mel wanted to stand near Jeff so they made a compromise. Of course, Mel tried every kind of dirty trick to lure her closer to Mike’s and Jeff’s territory and Maggie begged desperately with her irresistible sad puppy face to move in the other direction, after all, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad… and Jeff would bounce around, anyways, she argued. But neither of them could convince the other one so they were stuck in front of the place of Eddie Vedder and they knew they would have to fight hard to be able to keep their position.

“You will defend me, I know.” Maggie cuddled to her friend, letting herself be pulled in a bear hug. She was short and slim, the top of her head barely reached the level of the tall Mel’s chin, that’s why they often joked about themselves being two dogs coming from different species but being allies and best friends forever.

“I’ll defend you just… not now, oh my god, ohmygod, they’re here, that’s him!!!” Mel suddenly let her go frantically taking one picture after another of her main target.

“Okay, I can’t win against Jeff Ament…” Maggie shook her head with a forgiving smile only to discover the object of her admiration appearing on the other side of the stage, walking around with a deadpan on his face. She couldn’t help chuckling when she noticed he was wearing a black socks-dress shoes combo... with light brown shorts. She’d already got used to these weird testimonies of his terrible fashion sense but he always managed to surprise her with a newer unacceptable outfit.

When the singer finally showed up too, the crowd moved forward, pressing the girls against the barrier… and from that moment on, they only had some rest during the slower songs. Not that they wanted to complain, they were singing along the lyrics, screaming, laughing, crying or just squeezing each other’s hand making sure they were not dreaming, they were finally together, having the time of their life, really living their favorite songs. Mel was overly contented with seeing the bass player’s manly moves in the tight tank top he was wearing and the passionate solos and dazed-off moments of Mike pleased both of them too, even if they were within the spitting range of Ed. But as time went by, they both started feeling the depressing thought that this would be over soon, even if they tried to fight against it by bouncing and screaming twice as intensely as before…

When Stone started playing the opening chords of State of Love and Trust, the crowd went completely nuts and Maggie had to tighten her grip not to be drifted… the pressure behind her eased for a second but at once, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and lost the touch with the outside world…

***

Mhmmmm… what are these bright lights? I must have died and got in that shining corridor about which people who experienced clinical death always tell…

“Jesus, I go blind…” I mumble… or am I just hearing my own thoughts? Shit, this splitting headache, I’m definitely alive, I must have fallen asleep after taking in my migraine pill.

“Do you prefer low light?” a nasal male voice asks and as I look around, I find myself lying on a couch but I’m not in my own apartment, I don’t know this place. Oh, so I’m in a dream, nice, let’s see where it’s going…

“Yes, please!” I groan covering my eyes.

“Clouds roll by… sorry, bad joke, here, is it better his way?”

I take away my hand from my eyes and let them adjust to the pleasant half-light provided probably by a standing lamp somewhere out of my sight. When did I learn how to change the setting of my dreams? Cool… The owner of the voice takes place opposite me only to make me realize, I’m in a Stone dream, moreover, this time it’s a new one.

“Are you okay?” he’s checking me with the inquiring but still expressionless stare of a toad.

“More or less…” I mumble helplessly. Interesting, I’ve never had such a vivid dream about him, it’s somehow different, like I was in charge, I’ve never felt like this before while dreaming… Familiar melodies provide the musical accompaniment, I have to listen for a few bars until I recognize Yellow Ledbetter… but he’s here… and the music comes from…?

“Are we… at a show?” I ask suspiciously, I’m afraid that despite the realistic surrounding, it’ll turn into an incoherent screenplay written by my subconscious.

“Yes, we are…”

“But how come you’re not playing? You should be on the stage with the others…”

“I don’t feel like playing… I mean in that song, I have basically not much to do, I strum the same chords as Mike, it’s boring. At sound checks, sometimes I beg until I can play the drum parts, I’m a desperate drummer but I love it. But the rhythm guitar part is just… nah. Plus, I had to pee, anyways.”

“Fair enough.” I snicker. He’s such an awkward dork, even in my dreams. “Well, that happens if a musician is too busy with drinking beer at gigs instead of playing”.

“Excuse me?” he startles offended. That’s my favorite thing in dreaming, I can do and say what I’d never dare in real life.

“Do you think we don’t notice when you’re just fudging, walking around with the guitar and use the change of amplifier setups as an excuse to take a few sip of your booze? That doesn’t really count as musical contribution.”

“Ugh, busted. I try not to drink before the show though. Right as soon as I get onstage I start drinking. But come on, I never belch out of key, what’s this if not musical humility?”

I snort shaking my head and keep grinning from ear to ear. If he’s such a hilariously funny guy in my fantasy, how adorable he can be in the reality… I know he used to be an annoying, sarcastic little shit but when PJ got really successful, he mellowed down and made himself to the main target of his irony… The mixture of this down-to-earth humbleness and calm confidence was one of the main reasons why he became my favorite member in the band; in the band that only consists of great, relatable people, by the way.

Maybe I should use the occasion to have a chitchat with him, I could ask him questions about stuff I’ve always wanted to know… even if the answers are only the products of my mind…

“Do you see the world in yellow?”

Okay, maybe that’s not the best start but the colored lenses of his spectacles somehow distracted me and it just slipped out. He reacts with that short, amused eyebrow twitch I love… good job, Maggie.

“It’s a good question! It’s funny, nobody asked that before… but to answer it, I do, it’s like being trapped in that moment of sunset when everything is glowing in that golden light… but to be less poetic, it makes everyone look as if they were Lego figures, they have yellow head, y’know…”

The mentioning of my favorite toy brings back old memories about the times when I was building my own town with eclectic houses that served as the scene of the made-up action stories crafted by my cousin and me.

“I you were a Lego figure, you’d be a bad boy.” I remark with a timid smile and try to ignore the fact that my cheeks are in flames.

“Only if I were a Lego figure? That’s offensive. I was the member of the gang Newton Street Boys. We were the most dangerous guys on whole Capitol Hill, we terrorized the district by taking protection rackets from kindergarten pupils. They were scared to death when we showed up riding our bikes, I liked the banana-seat ones with the high handlebars - maybe a card in the wheel could have been part of it.” he chuckles playfully. “Anyway, why a bad boy?”

“It’s because of the scruff.” I giggle and reach out to pinch his neck but he leans away.

“Please don’t touch me.” he grunts.

Hey, brain, we had an agreement: if I behave decently enough in real life, you won’t throw any obstacles in the way of my naughty tendencies at nights. So if I want to touch Stone’s perfect neck, I’m gonna to do it. Period.

“I said no!!!” he repeats this time angrier when my fingers approach his skin again. What the hell???

“Sorry. I… I just wanted to say that there were those bearded figures… and you could get them mostly from the pirate or the police station series.”

“You mean they had an attachable Lego beard?” he inquires confused and excited at the same time; I’m sure he’s already forgotten the embarrassing intermezzo and is now desperately trying to recall the look of the little yellow dudes.

“Haha, no, it was just painted on their face. There was the moustache, the regular beard and the scruff that basically meant black dots on their face. And the scruffy guys always played the role of the bad boys in my stories. You know, the bank robber, the fleeing prisoner…”

“… the fucked-up musician… we should definitely have a Lego party once!”

“We should…” I repeat and we’re smiling silently at each other for a few seconds… I clear my throat and swallow hard since my mouth got completely dry, shit, it must be that damn gum-shield I have to wear at nights to prevent myself from gnashing.

“You want some water?” he asks walking to a fridge standing at the door.

“Fuck, yes, I’m dying of thirst.” I moan and I mean it.

“Here.” he hands a small bottle to me while he opens a beer can. I rather don’t make any remarks, the show is over, after all… But now that I think into it, maybe the other band members will show up too… I can’t wait!

I lower my head and press the ice cold bottle against my forehead. It feels incredibly good, that blinding pain is still pulsing in my head. As I direct my gaze onto the ground, I can’t help laughing again when I spot his dress shoes and the black socks tucked into them. The hem rolled down around his left ankle making the socks look like they were unmatched.

However thirsty I am, I can only take small sips since I’m already snorting at the next part of this weird vision.

“Anyway… before the others would arrive, there’s one thing we have to discuss.” I begin when I finally manage to force my facial muscles into a serious expression.

“Something that stays between us? Like a dirty little secret?” his face lights up with a boyish smile.

“Kind of, if your socks are dirty…” I roll my eyes. “It’s the footwear.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Of course yours, mine is normal. Matching boots, a totally adequate choice for a rock concert. But yours is just… criminal.”

“Don’t be rude with my shoes, they look good and they are comfy as fuck!” he circles with his feet comically.

“They do but man, look in that mirror!” I point at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. “You look like the mixture of an elementary school boy and a bachelor dressed by his mother. Shorts with dress shoes? How? Why? It’s an obvious no-no!” I scream.

“I have only these ones, sneakers and flip flops with me, which doesn’t leave much variation.” he shrugs briefly.

“You should have chosen the sneakers… as for the “f” word, I’m not even willing to pronounce it.”

“I always wore hiking boots in the earlier times, they were the most comfortable choice but they weren’t compatible with the heat on stage. And then, I got introduced in the magical world of orthopedic sandals but the band somehow vetoed them, I don’t really understand why... I was only allowed to wear them between shows and at soundchecks but at gigs, I had to wear the boots… Once, before a show, maybe in Atlanta, I can’t remember exactly, the sole of my boot separated so I could only wear my sandals… the guys freaked out about my velvet shorts-sweatpants-white socks-sandals outfit and obliged me to wear Jeff’s shoes during the show.” he recalls but I can barely listen to him, his hand talk and the fidgeting alien fingers are definitely more appealing than the image of Birkenstocks worn with socks.

As my eyes are glued to him, I involuntarily start playing with my hair but my fingers land in something sticky. I check them and glance at him helplessly, as if he could help me find out why blood is the next nonsense feature in this scene.

“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me earlier that you’re bleeding?” he shouts and rushes to the fridge.

“Because I didn’t know…” I mutter and can’t form further coherent sentences since he steps back to me with an ice bag and presses it to the back of my head… and he keeps standing opposite me with his arms laced around my neck. I’m desperately trying to look at the ceiling, the ground and the four walls at the same time, anywhere but him…

“This is too embarrassing, I want this to finally end… this is terrible.” I whisper in pain, fixing my gaze on the ugly shoes and working on calming down my hyperventilation with all my nerves.

“Hey, I just wanted to help! Just for the record, we don’t often let passed-out fans in the backstage, you were in bad shape and…”

“No, I mean, thanks and all but this dream… it’s going nowhere, it was funny but you entering into my personal space creates a tension that needs resolution, like a hug or a kiss or anything, this makes just no sense!” I blurt out, basically arguing with myself, the director of the movie.

“What? That doctor could finally arrive, you must have a concussion!” he gently tries to push me back onto to the couch but I shake his hands off me.

“What doctor... wait… the pain… the blood… is this… real?” I flail still hoping he doesn’t exist and suddenly disappears or turns into my real crush or Edge from U2 or whatever.

“You got hit with by a half-empty beer can and you passed out so the security personnel fished you out of the crowd. Since I came back anyway, I suggested that they should lay you down here until they get a doctor. You got a backstage pass by passing out. A backstage pass out.” he tries to ease he situation with a pun but I’m not really in the mood.

“No… the scruff… the shoes… the ki… I can’t believe I said all this bullshit, this is worse than a nightmare…” I bury my face into my palms completely mortified and stumble back towards the couch dizzily. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice… Mel!!!

***

“I’m not going to repeat this again, my best friend is in that room so if you won’t let me in immediately, I’m going to fuckin’ sue you!!!” Mel pointed with her index finger outraged at the huge guy standing in front of the door of the dressing room. Actually, instead of suing, she wanted to headbutt him in the chest but she knew it would feel like running into a concrete wall. She’d already been arguing with him for like fifteen minutes but the guy was just standing there with folded arms, stoically bearing the threats and the various spells casted on him by the furious girl.

“Hey, Ernie, I think you can let her in, her friend has just woken up, it’d be better if she’s with her when the doctor arrives…” a top of a head with ruffled hair peeked out of the door. The security guard obeyed and silently stepped aside.

“Maggie!!!” Mel shouted and tossed the young man in the door away to get a free way to her friend. “I was so worried about you!!!” she captured her into a rib-breaking hug.

“I’m… I’m okay… Stone took care of me…” Maggie mumbled against Mel’s chest trying to point at the guitarist under her friend’s arm.

“Stone???” Mel screamed making both of them turn around without breaking the hug.

“Yup.” the guitarist waved clumsily with one hand at her, digging his other hand deeply in his pocket.

Maggie managed to tiptoe enough to rest her head on her friend’s shoulder, which allowed her to saw the door opening… only to recognize the other members of the band arriving back from the stage. The small group was guided by Jeff who stopped at the door exchanging a surprised look with the embarrassed guitarist standing in the room.

Maggie started silently shaking of laughter because she could already imagine what’d happen next…

“Uhm… Mel… I’m choking… please let me go…” she acted patting her friend’s back a few times. “I think you should turn back… slowly…” she recommended biting her lips to hide her amusement when she pulled away to see the girl’s reaction.

“Why… what…?” Mel looked back over her shoulder and… due to the bassist’s excellent reflexes, she didn’t land on the ground but in his arms. Jeff stared shocked alternately at the unconscious girl and the other ones, begging for help with his eyes.

“Jesus, not again… “Stone sighed facepalming.” She’s yours, I’m out.”

[quickspinner]

WIP Wednesday 4/15/20

I’m in the home stretch on this one (nearly 12k words so far, remember when these were supposed to be short?) and I’m trying to finish it so I’ve been pretty focused as far as my writing goes (aside from the occasional break to write more smooches). So, more reverse crush/pro gamer AU.

Marinette sighed and dropped her head back, rolling her eyes. “Stop with the kicked puppy look, give it here.” 

“Huh?” Luka looked up at her. 

“Give it to me, I’ll fix it,” Marinette said, with a wry smile. “You big baby.” 

Luka’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Really, you think you can fix it? I’d hate to give it up, I’ve had it forever.” 

“Obviously,” Marinette snorted as he stripped off the hoodie and handed it to her. She examined the torn seam, and then the other seams. “All of these need reinforcement,” she commented, and saw Luka’s face fall as she looked up. “It’s okay, I can do it,” she said, with some amusement. “If you trust your beloved pile of rags to my possession. I don’t deny the urge to chuck it overboard is strong. Do you want the repairs to show or should I try to hide them?” 

“I don’t mind if it shows,” Luka said, ruffling his hair. “But whichever is faster. I know how to sew a button back on but that’s it so whatever you say works for me.  Are you sure you want to do it now? We’re supposed to be practicing and I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“It won’t take that long and we’re due for a break anyway,” Marinette shrugged. She draped the hoodie over her shoulder and picked up her purse, pulling out a small (well...smallish) plastic box and handing it to him. “Pick a color.”

“Wow, you carry this stuff with you all the time?” he asked, opening the box and looking at the neatly arranged box. He deliberated a moment and then selected a spool. 

Marinette took the kit back and pulled out a needle and a pair of folding scissors. “Really?” she said, holding up the spool of bright red thread. 

Luka shrugged and grinned. “That way I’ll think of you. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but it’s kind of what you said about putting a piece of yourself in the things you make. If you’re doing that for me, I don’t want it to be invisible.”

Marinette’s face turned as red as the thread in her hand, she was certain, and she was equally certain that Luka saw, with the way his grin widened and he averted his eyes, trying to pretend that he wasn’t holding back laughter. “Anyway, I owe you big, thanks for doing this,” he said after a moment. “Above and beyond, even for a teammate.”

“Please, you’re already helping me out.” She snorted, and then she dared to dart a smile at him. “Play for me while I work and we’ll call it even,” she added as she sat down and arranged the hoodie in her lap. 

“Really, you want me too?” He sounded so happy, Marinette was afraid to look at him. She firmly told the butterflies in her stomach to settle down and waited until she was sure her voice would be steady before she answered. “Yeah, I’d love to hear it. You sounded really good before.” She shrugged one shoulder. “A little bit of you for a little bit of me, right?”  

“Well all right then,” he said, still grinning as he went to get his guitar. “Sounds like a fair trade to me.” 

Instead of going back to his perch in the sunshine he sat down in the deck chair next to her, and true to his word, he played while she sewed, occasionally asking if she had a preference, but she just shook her head. “You pick,” she said around the needle clamped between her lips as she unspooled and cut a length of thread. 

She glanced to the right only once and nearly stabbed herself with her needle at the sight of Luka’s bare arms moving as he played Stairway to Heaven, too absorbed in the music to notice her choking on her own spit, thankfully. Penchant for video games aside, Luka clearly led an active lifestyle and his arms were toned and defined without having the bulk of somebody who worked at getting that way, and that subtle swell of muscle was more than enough to send her thoughts scattering to the wind. 

Fortunately Marinette was more than capable of sewing with only half of her brain online. She fixed her eyes on the fabric and resolved not to look at Luka again. She failed only once, glancing up as he softly crooned, “ooh, it makes me wonder…” She met his eye and the soft look and the crooked smile he gave her made her drop her gaze again, hoping he wouldn’t see the blush rising to her cheeks.

[starryknight09]

Unforeseen dangers ch. 4

Summary:  As Peter recovers from his capture by Ross, a photo of him with Tony and the Avengers leaks and is splashed all across the media. Luckily, no one can figure out who he is and everyone thinks the buzz will die down. However, the public’s interest has been ignited. While Tony worries it’s only a matter of time before Peter’s identity is exposed, Peter isn’t as concerned. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

A knock sounded on Peter’s bedroom door just as he finished the last equation of the problem set in front of him.

“Kid, can I come in?” Tony’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Sure.” He answered.

His dad walked in, a tense expression on his face.  He wondered if it was from the same thing that’d put a similar look on Pepper’s face.

“Doing your math homework?” Tony asked when he got close enough to see the open textbook and the sheet of paper with the completed problem set to the side of it.

Peter nodded.  “I just finished it.”

Tony ruffled his hair.  “Want me to check your answers?”

“No I got it.” Peter said, trying to fix his mussed up curls.

His dad watched him fondly for a moment, amusement warring with worry on his face.

Peter frowned.  “Is everything ok?”

“Everything’s fine,” Tony answered quickly, “but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Peter’s heart leaped to his throat.  Had Tony figured out Peter’s plan to change his name?  Was he unhappy about it?  But how had he found out?  Pepper wouldn’t have told.  Had someone else?  Or was it just his dad’s uncanny ability to somehow know everything that happened in his Tower?  Maybe FRIDAY had squealed?

“Um what-what’s up?” He asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

His dad sighed, sliding his homework off to the side so there was a clear spot on his desk where he could sit down.

“Watch any TV recently?” Tony asked.

Peter blinked.  That was not at all what he’d been expecting.

“Um I watched a few episodes of Love it or List it last night.”

“I thought I told you that show would rot your brain.”

“I like it.”

Tony shook his head with a sigh, but Peter could tell he didn’t actually care.

“What about today?  Did you watch anything today?”

“No.  Why?  Did something happen?”  Had some sort of world catastrophe occurred that he was unaware of?

“Yes…and no.” Tony answered.

“Wow that’s cryptic.” Peter joked, trying to lighten the solemn mood that’d fallen over his room.  “Are you actually going to tell me or am I supposed to guess?”

Tony took a deep breath as if to bolster himself before he answered, “Someone leaked a photo.”

“Ok…” That answer was just as vague.

“A photo of us.”

Peter’s mouth fell open as he tried to absorb the words and what they meant.  “What?  But who would—?  When did—?”  He could only get out clipped, incomplete fragments, but his dad seemed to understand all the same.  

“Some government aide leaked the photo of us together on the couch after the Accords signing.  The press is having a heyday with it.” Tony answered.

Peter winced.  Oh.  That was bad.

Tony continued, “It’s playing on all the major network stations.  Everyone wants to know who you are and what your connection is to me.”

Peter frowned, staring blankly at his math homework for a moment as he tried to process the news.

“What-what does this mean?” He asked, looking up to meet Tony’s worried eyes.

Tony licked his lips and answered slowly, “It means…we’re going to have to be a lot more careful in the future to not be seen together.”

“But why?  If they already know who I am?” Peter didn’t really understand.  Why did they need to be careful if the cat was already out of the bag?  

“No.  They don’t know.” His dad shook his head.  “The photo isn’t very good quality.  I can barely tell it’s you.  They just know I was sitting with some kid.”

Peter scrunched his nose, not really loving that description.  “So what are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing.  We’re going to do nothing and let it run its course and eventually it’ll die down.  We’re not telling anyone who you are or what your relationship with me is.  But like I said, we’re going to have to be careful.  We can’t go out in public together for the time being.  One good photo and they might be able to figure out who you are.”

“And that would be bad.” He said, but it came out more as a question.

Tony frowned as he answered, “Yes Peter, that would be bad.  If the press found out you were my son, they’d hound you nonstop, and it wouldn’t be for only a couple weeks.  It’d be forever.  The unfortunate curse of being a Stark.”  

Peter swallowed hard, thinking of the paperwork he’d just signed to officially make himself a Stark.

“And that wouldn’t even be the worst part.” Tony explained, looking stricken.  “Certain people might see you as a tool they could use to try to get to me.  You’d never be safe, and I don’t want that for you.”

“They could try,” Peter smiled, trying to reassure his dad, “but I’m Spiderman.  I’m not so easy to get to.”

“Don’t underestimate the crazies.” Tony shook his head.  “It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“So, if we’re not going to do anything about it, then why are you telling me?” He asked.

“Because I want you in the loop.  In case things come up or go wrong, I want you to know how serious it could be.”

“Ok.  I guess that makes sense.” Peter’s brow furrowed as another thought struck him.  “Wait.  Is this the emergency Pepper got called back to deal with?”

Tony nodded.  

Peter immediately felt guilty.  Because of him, because of something to do with him, Pepper had needed to run back to work to deal with the fallout.

Tony must’ve seen the guilt on his face.  “Don’t worry kid.  Compared to some of the things I’ve put her through, this is nothing.  And the game plan’s simple.  We’re doing nothing.  We’re not confirming or denying anything or making a statement.  It’s literally no extra work for Pep.”

“I don’t know.” Peter mumbled.   “She looked pretty stressed.”

Tony waved a hand in dismissal.  “She’ll be fine.  Believe me.  The woman’s as tough as nails.”

That got a smile out of him.  “I know.”

“Good.” His dad ruffled his hair again and he groaned in fake complaint.  “You’re done with your homework, right?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.  He’d done the problem set he’d been working on, but he still had a mountain load to do by the end of winter break.

“What do you say we go down to the workshop and work on the new updates to my suit?”

“I’m in.” He stood, always eager to work on the Ironman armor.

Tony got off the desk and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked out of his room and to the workshop together.  It should’ve been comforting but Peter still didn’t feel completely at ease.  Even though Tony had tried to reassure him, he couldn’t shake the troubled look on his dad’s face from his mind.

“Hey Ned.” Peter answered his phone as he laid on his mattress.  Tony had sent him to bed an hour ago but he still hadn’t been able to fall asleep.  The phone call was a welcome interruption from staring at the ceiling.

“Dude you’re on TV!  You’re famous!” Ned erupted in excitement.

Peter groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“Have you seen the news?  Like literally everyone is talking about you.  I’m friends with a celebrity!”

“I haven’t seen it yet but I’ve heard.” Peter sighed.  “And no one can know it’s me Ned.  You have to keep it to yourself.  You can’t even tell your parents, got it?”

“Oh man.” Ned whined.  “Are you serious?”

“Yes.  I mean it.” Peter reiterated.  “Tony will flip if someone finds out that I’m the one in the picture.”

“You don’t think someone’s going to figure it out?”

“I don’t know.  Tony didn’t seem to think so.  I guess it’s not that great of a picture.”

Ned hummed.  “Yeah it is pretty blurry.  I might not have even known it was you except I knew it was you.”

Peter snorted.

“That sucks though dude.  I thought I was going to be famous by proxy.” Ned said with disappointment.

Peter grinned.  “I don’t think it works that way.”

“I already had an awesome tag line idea for my twitter.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you want to hear it?”

“Sure.  Why not?”

“It was going to be, ‘Best friend of Ironkid.  Friend of the Avengers.’  What do you think?”

“I think maybe keep working on it.” Peter laughed.  “And my name wouldn’t be Ironkid.”

“Are you kidding?  The media’s not all that creative.  If they found out you were Ironman’s kid I’m pretty sure they’d dub you Ironkid.”

Peter made a face in disgust.  “Oh god I hope not.  That’s reason enough to make sure they don’t find out.”

Ned laughed over the phone.

“So I guess for now I have to stick with secretly being Spiderman’s guy in the chair?”

“And Peter Parker’s best friend.  Sorry.”

“It’s all right.  I like that role better anyway.” Peter could hear Ned’s honest smile in his voice.  “Besides, we both know I probably do better work behind the scenes than out in the spotlight.”

“Yeah and it might sound fun at first, but it would totally suck to not be able to go anywhere without being recognized.”

“Yeah you’re right.  Although, I bet we could get some sweet Comic-Con tickets if people knew who you were.”

“Tony can get those for us anyway.”  Peter rolled his eyes.  “And if no one knows who I am, we can go and not get mobbed, and actually have fun.”

“I guess you have a point.” Ned agreed.

Peter heard muffled voices coming from across the speaker of Ned’s phone.

“Um sorry dude but my mom says I have to go to bed.��� Ned said.  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Ok.  Good night Ned.” Peter said with a smile.

“Good night.”

Peter plugged his phone back into the charger and set it on the nightstand.  Fatigue leadened his eyelids, and he closed his eyes as he settled into his soft pillows.  Talking to Ned had at least helped him finally destress.  Sleep was no longer so hard to find.

“How does that feel?” Ross sneered at him as he stabbed a knife straight into his thigh.

Peter couldn’t hold back a cry of pain.  He instinctively tried to grab the offending object but he couldn’t move his arms.  They were tied behind him as he sat helpless in a chair.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Ross said with grim pleasure as he slowly twisted the knife.

It burned.  Electric shocks of agony danced through his leg.

“Stop.” He moaned and crumpled forward at his waist, but he only had enough slack to make it a few inches.

Ross snorted in amusement.

“You want me to stop?  Oh no.  We’re just getting started.” Ross said and ripped the knife out of his leg.  It hurt almost as much as getting stabbed in the first place and Peter cried out again.  He panted as blood bubbled from the wound, too much too fast.

Ross leaned forward and placed the edge of the blood coated knife on his bare chest.

“No.” He pleaded.  “Please.”

The corner of Ross’s lip twisted up in a crazed smile and he pressed down.

Peter watched as blood flowed out and around the knife as it carved into his skin.

“No!” He tried to thrash away but he couldn’t as Ross trailed the knife across his chest to form a burning line of red.

Peter couldn’t help it.  He was crying now.  It hurt.  And there was so much blood dripping down his chest and out of his leg.  He was going to die.  Oh god.  Ross wasn’t going to stop.  He was going to keep going until he slowly killed him.

The man placed the knife a couple inches below the line of open skin and repeated the process, forming another crimson line of open flesh.  Peter didn’t want to look but he couldn’t help it.  The cuts were deep enough he thought he could see flashes of white bone underneath.

“Stop.  Stop!  Please.” He begged through his sobs.

Ross ignored him and continued the process, dragging the knife over his skin to make a third line.

Peter screamed.  He didn’t want to die.  He didn’t.

“Help!  Someone please!  Help!” He yelled hoarsely even though he knew it was hopeless.  He was all alone with Ross.

“No one’s coming to save you.” Ross taunted.  “Not even Daddy.”

Peter whimpered at that.  He wanted his dad.  Ross carved another slice across his front.

“Dad!” He screamed this time, clenching his eyes shut at the pain.  He knew it was pointless and that Ross was right.  Tony wasn’t coming to save him, but he couldn’t help instinctively calling for him.  “Dad!  Help!  Please.  Dad!”

Ross gripped his shoulders and gave them a firm shake.  Why had Ross stopped hurting him?  Peter’s eyes snapped open in confusion.

Instead of Ross, all he saw was a darkened figure leaning over him, holding his shoulders.

“You’re all right.” The figure soothed.  Not Ross.  Peter blinked and immediately recognized his dad.  He took in the rest of his surroundings.  He was in his room.  In bed.  He spread a hand across his chest but there was nothing there.  His leg was fine too.  Nothing hurt.  It’d all just been a bad dream.  Ross didn’t have him anymore.  Right.  Tony had saved him.  And Ross was dead.

Tony sat perched on the edge of the bed and Peter wasted no time in sitting up and wrapping his arms around the man.

“You’re all right.” His dad repeated softly into his hair.

Peter closed his eyes and melted into the comfort.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.  He had no idea what time it was, but Tony was wearing pajamas so Peter knew he’d woken him up.

His dad shushed him and rubbed a hand over his back.

After a long minute of silent comfort, Tony said, “You were calling for me.”

Peter knew it was a question as much as a statement.  His dad was offering him a chance to talk about his dream but he wasn’t going to force it.

“I was back there.” Peter whispered into Tony’s chest.  “Ross had me.”

Tony made a sound of displeasure but Peter continued, “He was hurting me and he wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t get free and no one was coming to save me and I just wanted you.”

“I’m right here.” Tony said, squeezing him even tighter.  “You’re safe.”

“It felt so real.” Peter mumbled.

“It wasn’t.” Tony tangled a hand in the hair at the back of his head.  “You’re not there.  And Ross is gone.  He’ll never hurt you again.”

“I know.  It’s stupid.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid.” Tony said firmly.  “What you went through was traumatic.  Someone took you, held you hostage, and hurt you.  I’d be surprised if you weren’t having nightmares about it.  Hell, I’m having nightmares about it.”

“You are?” Peter pulled back and saw the truth in his dad’s eyes.

“Yeah.” Tony tried to smile as he palmed his cheek, but he just looked sad.  “Of course.  Someone took you from me and hurt you as a way to get to me.  That’s the very definition of my worst nightmare.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Really.” Tony rubbed a thumb over his cheek.  “You’re the most important thing to me.  How many times do I have to tell you that before you finally start to believe me?”

“Lots.” Peter said and grinned.  “Maybe because I like to hear it.”

Tony let out a short huff of amusement and dropped the hand on his face so he could ruffle his hair.  “You seem better.”

“Yeah.” He agreed.  He did feel better.  With his dad so close, the fear from his nightmare seemed miles away now instead of lurking in the room.  “Thanks.”

“Think you’ll be able to get back to sleep?” Tony asked.  “It’s still pretty late.”

“I think so.” He said even though he wasn’t sure.  The yawn that escaped him a couple seconds later seemed to contradict his doubts.

Tony nodded and stood, fluffing his pillow for him and then gently guiding him backward to land on it.  Once he was settled, his dad pulled the covers up to his chin and brushed the hair off his forehead before lightly pressing a kiss there.

“Get some sleep.” His dad whispered.

Peter hummed in response, eyes already drifting closed.  He expected to hear the door click shut as Tony walked out, but instead, a few moments later, he felt the other side of his bed tip.  Peter cracked his eyes open and watched with a frown as his dad crawled into the other side of it.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Shh go to sleep.” Tony said, reaching a hand across the space between them to place it briefly over his eyes to close them.  “I’m keeping the nightmares away.”

“Mine or yours?” Peter joked.

Tony chuckled.  “Both.”

“Night dad.”

“Good night kiddo.”

“I love you.” He mumbled as sleep pulled irresistibly at him.

“I love you too.” His dad said back and Peter could hear all the fondness and love infused in the sentence.  “Now go to sleep.”

Peter hummed tiredly in agreement.  With his dad next to him, a sense of safety encompassed him, and he had no trouble slipping quickly back to sleep.

[localkatshelter]

Okame’s Underbelly: Humiliation |3rd|

(ShinsoxOC) 

Katsumi’s POV (localvillageidiot#0870) and Shinso’s POV (hecker#8339)

Warning: Contains alcohol consumption, heartbreak, suicidal ideation, emotional manipulation/quirk use

Preview:

| “I feel like she just wants me to disappear...” he said from underneath his arm. “Maybe I’ll give her what she wants.”

He mumbled the last bit to himself, probably not intending for me to hear it, but I did. I felt his sadness morph into something more morbid. Oh shit, he’s taking this really hard. Before I realized what I was doing, a question had already escaped my lips.

“Do you really think that?”

“I don't know...”

I activated my quirk immediately after he responded. |

Beautiful Artwork By: Casentine

1st Chapter - Anticipation 

(Katsumi's POV)

I tapped him on the shoulder. Edgelord grunted, looking over at me through hooded eyes. The physical contact sent a jolt through me as my quirk processed the whirlwind of emotions that were coming from him.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine…” His voice was strained, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that it was true.

As soon as he opened his mouth, I could smell the soju. Oh he’s drunk drunk. I tilted my head to the side in an effort to look him in the eye.

“You sure? You don't seem fine to me.” And my quirk is screaming that you're in pain right now. I’d always hated how I couldn't leave someone once I felt that they were hurting, even when it was a total stranger and none of my business.

He chuckled sourly. “Is that so? Then maybe you’re right…” he slurred, smiling half-heartedly.

“So,” I paused, glancing down towards his feet. There were four bottles of soju on the ground, two totally empty and a third about halfway finished. “What’s the matter?”

“The person that cheated on me took it upon themself and decided we weren’t worth fighting for anymore.” He stated bluntly. He lifted his head and looked me straight in the eye. “Isn’t that crazy?” he asked, laughing bitterly.

“Oh wow, I’m sorry.”

He laughed again and shrugged. “They’re probably fucking as we speak.” he said casually and took another swig of his soju and placed the fourth next to him preemptively.

I could feel his heart crack a little further with every word. I couldn’t help but reach out and rest my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. I felt his entire body flinch and tense at my touch. There was a short silence before I heard him speak in a soft, broken tone.

“F-fuck...” His hands gripped the bottle of soju tightly, squeezing until his knuckles turned white.

I could feel him struggling not to cry. His anger and pain began to tug at my chest as the desire to take it all away crept up on me. I unconsciously began to rub the back of his shoulder. I could feel him break beneath my hand. He started to cry, letting out short sobbing breaths. He tried to hide his face in the crook of his elbow.

“I fucking hate this crying bullshit…” he choked out while he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve clumsily.

“There’s nothing wrong with crying. Keeping it in ends up hurting you more in the long run.”

He nodded reluctantly, his head still buried in his arm. I kept rubbing small circles on his shoulder as he regained an even breath.

“I feel like she just wants me to disappear...” he said from underneath his arm. “Maybe I’ll give her what she wants.”

He mumbled the last bit to himself, probably not intending for me to hear it, but I did. I felt his sadness morph into something more morbid. Oh shit, he’s taking this really hard. Before I realized what I was doing, a question had already escaped my lips.

“Do you really think that?”

“I don't know...”

I activated my quirk immediately after he responded, pulling at his emotions lightly to make him feel a bit more open towards me. He’s so drunk, manipulating his emotions is too easy. It’s like taking candy from a baby.

“She let me go so easily...” he said softly.

I continued to pull the self-destructiveness from him little by little until I had absorbed it all, leaving him with a duller version of the anguish that had been there before. Once I let go of my hold on him, he seemed to get more of a grip on himself. He straightened up a bit and I removed my hand from his shoulder. I watched him begin to fidget uncomfortably with his soju bottle, now almost empty. He started to eye the last bottle.

“You know, I’m not feeling too great myself either.” I said while casually reached around him to grab the unopened bottle next to him. “Okame not performing anymore kind of bummed me out. I basically only ever came to The Squeaky Wheelhouse to listen to their pieces. Now I don’t know what I’m going to do on Friday nights... Wow, that sounds so lame out loud.”

I laughed at myself, trying to lighten the mood a bit and put him at ease. I could feel his anxiety and embarrassment, likely because he cried in front of me, a perfect stranger. It’s no big deal and totally not his fault. If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine, but he doesn’t need to know that. He seemed to contemplate my dilemma for a moment.

“Fuck that guy.” he concluded with a hiccup.

“Cheers to that.” I laughed a bit as I opened the stolen soju bottle and raised it to him. Our bottles touched and we both took a long swig.

“My name’s Katsumi by the way.”

“Shinso, glad you stumbled upon my sorry ass.” He held his hand out.

I shook his hand, taking note of his firm grip and the roughness that I had admired earlier.

“Speaking of stumbling on you, what are you doing out here anyway?”

“I’ve been waiting for a bus home but it’s been taking fucking forever.”

The bus? I took out my phone to check the time.

“Um... it’s almost 1 a.m. The last bus came, like, an hour ago.”

“No way,” He started to laugh. “I’m an idiot, holy shit”

“Can I call you a cab?”

“No, my parents cannot see me like this.” he said in a lighthearted tone.

“Well you definitely can't stay here...” I trailed off. Am I really about to offer to take a complete stranger back to my apartment? I mean, he seems trustworthy and I don’t get any malicious vibes from him.... “Why don’t you come back with me? You can sleep it off and go home in the morning.”

“Are you sure? I’m just some scary man.” he joked.

“Oh yeah, that mess of lilac hair is absolutely terrifying.” I teased back, getting up.

He laughed, both shocked and amused by my retort. “You’re funny, also fuck you.”

I let out a laugh and motioned for him to get up off the bench and follow me. He tried to stand and stumbled a bit before I caught him by the arm. He steadied himself but I kept an arm behind him to be sure he wouldn’t fall over. We started to walk back to my place together making small talk and joking with each other a bit. It was surprisingly easy to get along with Shinso. We kind of just, clicked. It was actually really nice. Once we got back to my dorm apartment, I grabbed some extra blankets and a pillow to make up the couch for him.

“Just crash here.” I told him, pointing to the makeshift bed. I turned and walked over to the television. “Do you want me to turn this on for you?”

I looked over my shoulder and saw that Shinso was already knocked out. I smiled to myself. He looks almost cute the way he's hugging that pillow. I went into my bedroom, being sure to lock the door behind me. Sure he’s cute and nice, but he’s still a stranger....

I woke up the next morning and he was gone. The only trace he left behind were the blankets, neatly folded on the couch.

(Shinso's POV)

I didn’t remember much of last night and I didn’t really want to. I just remember me feeling like shit, drinking my heart out, and making a fool out of myself in front of a stranger. I remember them being super nice but even so, I dipped out of their apartment as soon as my aching brain drifted into consciousness again. I had to use my phone to see where the hell I was, but once I did, I googled the nearest convenience store. I kept swallowing hard, trying to keep the nausea at bay. I felt so much like death that I debated drinking again to feel better. But I reluctantly decided against it and instead did the right thing, which was to chug water, eat something light, and suffer a bit. On the bus home, I tried to stop my mind from wandering towards what had happened last night. I can’t say I was successful. In conclusion, this whole heartbreak thing was not going to be easy.

The rest of the summer went by in a pitiful blur, in result the next semester seemed to approach very quickly.

I shoved the remainder of my belongings into my shitty little car before settling into the front seat for my brief drive to campus. I typically only brought the essentials so one trip sufficed. It probably seemed unnecessary to live on campus when I’m not that far from it, but living on my own was essential for my general sanity. Also, I much preferred living with my close friend Denki. He shed a light on my abyssal self. It was a pleasant contrast, even though I’d never openly admit it to him. It was an inside joke at this point for me to pretend that I was indifferent about his company. It had been that way since the beginning.

When I pulled up, Denki was already waiting outside the dorm building with a stupid grin on his face.

“How’s my shining baby boy?” he beamed.

I shook my head, laughing at his typical ridiculous term of endearment, and put my hazards on before stepping out of the car. He ambushed me with a hug, which I stiffly returned. He pulled back and looked me over.

“You look so handsome right now, I could kiss you.”

I chuckled, playfully pushing him away.

“Help me move my shit inside, will ya?” I ordered jokingly.

“Aye aye, boss. That’s what I’m here for.”

He saluted before hulking a huge bin of my junk over his shoulder. He’s a lot stronger than he looks; I learned that the hard way when we trained together. It was a nice outlet for stress and a way to be active without being too deliberate about exercising. It was also fun to just fuck around with a friend and kick their ass...in a friendly way of course. I won’t lie, there were a few times where I left practice more sore and beat up than he was. By a few times, I mean more than half the time. However, that percentage was slowly tipping in my favor, so there’s no use in prematurely developing an inferiority complex. Well, I already sort of have one, but for a completely separate reason. I have always been told that my quirk left me vulnerable because it heavily relied on trickery, if it failed it would leave me vulnerable physically. Except they usually didn't say it that nicely. It was often intended to be condescending. I tried to not internalize the not-so constructive criticism but when you hear something over and over again…well, it starts to stick. To push back, I started combat training with Denki recreationally. He doesn't need to know the details of why I suddenly sprung the idea on him a little over a year ago.

We lugged one round of my things into our snug room, which Denki already managed to decorate with album covers. Besides his PC and collection of questionable manga, his side wasn’t that much more complex than I predicted mine to be. Messiness was a whole other subject, but as long as he kept his stuff on his side, I couldn’t give a shit. As we returned to my car, a girl in front of the entrance caught my eye. She was staring me down, looking confused. I assumed she was looking at my ridiculous gravity-defying hair like most people do and went back to grabbing more things out of my car. Before I could gather too many items, I heard a pleasant voice call out behind me.

“Hey, Edgelord.” it mocked in a friendly tone.

My brows pinched together in confusion as I turned around to follow the voice. It belonged to the petite brunette girl who was staring at me. I looked over at Denki to see if he recognized her, but he looked just as baffled as I was. Well, maybe baffled wasn’t the word. He was uncontrollably snickering at the nickname the stranger gave me. She’s bold.

“Um, hey?” was all I could come up with.

“Funny running into you here. How’ve you been?” she inquired genuinely, continuing to speak to me as if we were familiar with each other.

Huh? How’ve I been? Where do I know her from?

“Uh, I’ve been good.” I responded, now trying to mask my uncertainty as to not be rude to this person that obviously knew me from somewhere.

“Well that's good to hear. You’ve been feeling okay?” She smiled, her eyes questioning me earnestly.

I began to shift uncomfortably at the intensity of her caring nature towards me. Especially since I honestly had no idea who she was. Shit, does she know me as Okame? That doesn’t make sense because how would she know? Is she a friend of my ex? That would be so fucked if my ex really ruined my anonymity for something I care so much about. I know she’s spiteful, but I didn’t think she could be that malicious. As these questions shot at me in rapid-fire, I studied the girl before me, trying to find any sort of familiarity. Despite having a more circular face, her jawline was decently pronounced. She was of olive complexion with a light peppering of freckles concentrated on her round nose. She had dark, arched, brows which complimented and contrasted her otherwise soft features. Her eyes were upturned, embellished with a set of thick lashes. Her irises were a striking amber shade...wait that’s familiar. That detail pulled at a vague memory in me. Her head tilted with increasing puzzlement. Fuck, how long has it been since she asked the question?

“Y-Yeah, I’ve been feeling fine.” I stammered.

She giggled at my rushed response. I felt Denki’s mischievous glare on me. I glanced back at him only to catch an annoying wiggling brow.

“Oh good. So, do you need any help moving in? I got bullied into volunteering anyway, so I might as well be of some use.” She tugged on the logo of her shirt and rolled her eyes with a scoff.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little at the idea of a “moving in crew” uniform.

“Nice, but I think w-”

Denki poked me in the side, administering a slight zap. I clenched my jaw, muting a grunt, before throwing a deadly scowl his way.

“What my colleague means to say is that he’s super weak and could really use your help moving in.” Denki interrupted.

I closed my eyes, rolling them behind my lids, while taking a deep breath and accepting his wishes. I learned early on that once Denki made his mind up on something, you’d be wasting your time if you didn’t give in right away.

She chuckled at Denki’s commentary before gesturing to the car.

“You got it. Is this everything?” She grabbed a box and held it against her hip.

I nod in response and we head upstairs. I kept to myself for the most part, still mulling over the mystery of who this girl was. In the meantime, Denki and ? were getting along just fine, surprisingly well for just recently breaking stranger status. She found him hilarious which was concerning because I didn’t need him getting an even bigger head about it.

“Who knew Edgelord would have such cool friends. I honestly thought he was a figment of my imagination until I saw him again today. I mean, who even likes grapefruit soju?” Denki and Mystery Girl cackled in unison.

Grapefruit soju...fuck. I knew she looked familiar. She was the girl from that night where I completely lost it. After ruminating on it the day after, I never really looked back, because I assumed I’d never see her again. She’s seen me at a low point and I was not comfortable with that. Denki noticed me going still for a moment and he gave me a weird look. I took a deep breath to compose myself.

“Yeah, I think me and Denki got the rest.” I interrupted plainly.

She paused, shooting me a baffled look which morphed into annoyance before settling on a neutral expression. I pretended not to notice the myriad of emotions travelling across her face. She clearly understood the intention behind my sudden curtness. I could feel Denki’s glare on the side of my face.

“Oh, okay cool. I’ll be on my way then.” she concluded lightheartedly and turned to Denki. “It was really cool meeting you though! I’m glad we got to talk for a bit. Hopefully I’ll see you around.” She flashed him a bright smile before heading to the door.

“Hold on there, stranger! What’s your name?” Denki called out.

“Oh, right! It’s Katsumi, but you can call me Kat, everybody does.”

“Hi, Kat! I’m Denki, but you can call me anytime.” He topped off the corny line with some finger guns.

She laughed softly to herself. “Okay, you got it.”

She brushed right past me and made her way out the door, disappearing around the corner. After waiting a few seconds, Denki closed the door behind him, leaning his weight on it.

"Dude," he exhaled heavily "What the fuck was that about? You got all weird at the end."

"Did I?" I muttered dismissively while unpacking one of the bins.

"Uh, yeah" he exasperated at this apparently obvious observation. "She obviously knew you from somewhere so there has to be a story. You're a shit story-teller but I'm a whore for tea so my standards are very low."

I moved on to a new box, tuning him out.

"Hellooooo? She clearly cares about you to some extent so there's history." He emphasized the last word. "She's definitely a lot nicer than She-Monster." He casually threw in his charming nickname for my ex.

My body stiffened, and I turned away from him and began to fidget pointlessly with office supplies on my desk. Denki has known me long enough to pick up on my subtle tells no matter how hard I try to suppress them.

"Something happened." He instinctually adjusted his voice to a more solemn tone.

"Yeah…" I sighed, giving in. "I guess I accidentally left that part out about my summer."

"Sure you did." Denki rolled his eyes, already scrolling through our texts. He defeatedly threw his phone on the bed, obviously failing to find any hints as to when it happened.

"But regardless," He hopped on my bed, despite having his own. "I'm all ears." He gave me a warm smile, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

[turtlepated]

Beetlejuice x Reader - Lonely Like Me

Part 4 - Final

[Something weird happened when I reblogged the original and I think I accidentally deleted it. So I’m reposting. It’s not in order anymore but... feh]

-------

You drop your phone on your bed with a startled gasp when the strange man (or wait, didn’t he say demon?)  from the supermarket suddenly appears in your bedroom, striped suit, green hair and all. He looks every bit as garish and shocking as he did that day at the store, but now that you’re paying attention and have him up close you notice details that you missed in passing. Like how his hair is dark at the roots, that there appears to be moss or algae growing on the lapels of his jacket, and that his smile is just slightly too wide and too pointy to be completely human. How could you have possibly mistaken him for just some random, if outrageously dressed but otherwise normal guy? 

  As you behold the full effect of his appearance; the shabby, dilapidated state of his too-large suit, the chipped black paint on his fingernails, the pale skin splotched here and there with splashes of green and purple, you realize that you’ve been staring at him in open mouthed silence for enough time that it’s awkward. For his part, the man/demon/ghost (Betelgeuse?) is staring just as avidly at you, still grinning his enormous Cheshire cat grin. “See something you like? You should know, babes, the first five minutes are free, but after that I start charging,” he says in that raspy, gravelly voice. There is a lurid, salacious tone to his words and he meaningfully waggles his dark eyebrows. 

 You feel warmth rush to your cheeks and avert your eyes, pretending to be very invested in rearranging the bedclothes in the hopes that he won’t catch you blushing. After taking a moment to compose yourself you turn back to him, clearing your throat to speak but finding your mind completely devoid of anything to say. There’s a grinning dead guy in your bedroom, you’re not really sure where to go from here. Betelgeuse appears utterly incapable of being still, he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet and still positively beaming at you when not peering curiously around your room. You flash an awkward smile in return, your hands fidgeting with your sheets and the hem of your nightshirt and one another.

 “So,” you begin, seizing desperately on the first thread of conversation your brain offers. “You’re… you’re really dead?” Betelgeuse snaps his heels together and bends at the waist into a dramatic bow, tilting his head up to shoot you another rakish grin. “Sure am, babes. The Underworld’s leading bio-exorcist, at your service.” He rights himself and, with a flourish, presents you with a battered and yellowed business card. You take it and read, your eyes skimming the slightly faded black lettering. “Betelgeuse,” you murmur to yourself, finding that you rather like the way the syllables roll off your tongue. “Careful with that, sweets,” says the specter. “I just got here, after all.” You frown, not quite understanding what he means, but he did say there were rules about his name. If just saying it out loud three times summoned him, or whatever, then saying it more times might do something else. And, strangely, you dislike the idea of losing this unusual connection so soon. 

 “What should I call you, then?” you ask. “Just to be safe.” He lights up at your question, almost literally. You could swear that the tint of his vibrant green hair has intensified before your eyes, practically glowing like a neon sign. “My first name’s Lawrence!” he replies cheerfully. “But I’ll answer to almost anything; B-man, Bug Beverage, Mr. Juice, I went by Your Eminence for awhile. My BFFFF forever usually just calls me Beej or BJ. But whatever you’re cool with, babes!” His exuberance is equal parts overwhelming and catching and you find yourself smiling as he rattles off other monikers to apply to him. It takes you a few moments to realize that as he’s been talking, he’s risen impossibly into the air and is now floating with his boots several inches off the floor. You raise your palm in a “whoa there” gesture, still smiling so he won’t think he’s annoying you. “I think I’ll go with Beej, if that’s ok with you. Though I do like the sound of Lawrence.”  

  You blink in surprise when strands of his gravity-defying hair abruptly shift to a brilliant bubblegum pink that quickly fades back to green. Well that’s unusual, you think, but it’s oddly charming. At least it’s no stranger than the ghost/demon thing or the levitating. And speaking of the ghost/demon thing, you have questions, several of them, and when you voice your interest to Betelgeuse he is practically bursting at the seams to answer. 

 It is truly amazing how many words are coming out of his mouth and how quickly (apparently he doesn’t need to breathe), and you rather feel like you are clinging to the wing of a cruising plane. But he does his best to explain what he calls “the whole, y’know, being dead thing!” and what his job as a bio-exorcist entails. Some of your questions are answered, but they are quickly replaced by new ones. You get the gist, though, and by the time he’s finished his lengthy dissertation Betelgeuse is sitting cross-legged in mid air and your brain is approaching critical mass. You exhale slowly through pursed lips, unfolding your legs and letting them dangle over the edge of the mattress. “That’s…. a lot to take in,” you admit. Betelgeuse’s eyes widen and a devilish grin splits his face as he exclaims, “That’s what she said!” You groan in exasperation as your head lolls limp to one side, amused by the juvenile joke but not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Oh, God, Beej, that was terrible!” You hear him snort once before he replies, “That’s what she said!! You can’t just keep settin’ em up for me so perfectly and not expect me to take the shot!” 

 He winds up staying with you the whole weekend. Mostly the two of you spend the time just talking, making junk food runs to the nearby convenience store and hanging out together on the couch watching TV. Despite the highly irregular circumstances that brought him into your life, you really appreciate having Betelgeuse around. He tells you about the Netherworld and his living family and he promises to introduce you properly sometime soon. When Monday inevitably rolls around again, you’re surprised to find that the usual bone-deep dread does not reappear. Betelgeuse practically begs to come to work with you, assures you he can make himself totally invisible to everyone but you. You convince him to stick it out at your place until the end of the day. You do still have to get your work done, which will be difficult if you’re trying to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t feed any of your coworkers into the shredder. 

 The day passes quickly and uneventfully and as you commute home you find yourself smiling. Not just smiling, but hardly able to contain your excitement. Someone is waiting for you at home, and he will be just as excited to see you as you are to see him. This isn’t something you’ve ever really experienced before, but it feels nice. It’s warm and comforting and exactly what you wished for. 

As soon as you walk through the door Betelgeuse is there, wrapping you in an almost-too-tight hug and lifting you off the ground. “Babes!” You laugh and slip your arms under his to hug him back as he floats you both into the air. As far as you’re concerned, you could stay like that with him all night. But then you have to go to the bathroom...

The following weekend he directs you to a house on the other side of town, far removed from the Winter River city limits. It’s unassuming from the road, a classic Victorian. Betelgeuse doesn’t hesitate at the door, barging right in over your startled protests. “Attention, jerkwads: new breather coming through!” You almost physically shrink before the eyes of the strangers who appear from different parts of the house at Betelgeuse’s shout. “She followed me home and I’m keeping her,” he announces, throwing an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you against his body. And it is with that illustrious preamble that you meet the Deetzes and the Maitlands. Adam, Barbara and Delia are all consummate hosts and hostesses, welcoming you warmly. Charles is gentlemanly and polite, in a long-suffering but resigned sort of way. Lydia, whom you’ve heard a great deal about, it more reserved but appears curious at the very least when you finally introduce yourself. “Bout time,” she states with a smirk, gesturing at Betelgeuse with a jerk of her chin. “He hasn’t shut up about you in a month.” At her remark you turn to the ghost with the most with a coy smile that he doesn’t see because he’s fiddling with his tie while tell-tale pink bleeds into his hair. 

In practically no time at all you are absorbed into the unconventional Deetz-Maitland-Shoggoth family, as though you always have been and when you’re around them you feel like you are home. 

[raendown]

I didn’t even realize it was Sunday, I almost forgot to update this >.<

Chapter: 4/9 Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4161 Rated: M Summary: Walking patrol around a university for mages probably sounded like a wild time but Tobirama has never found it all that exciting. He’s not even technically supposed to be here. When responding to a tripped alarm becomes a desperate attempt to stay alive, however, excitement is the last thing on his mind. All he’s ever wanted is a quiet life alone with his books until he finds himself bound to Uchiha Madara in the most impossible way and finally learns to think about more than just himself - in a way.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 4

As soon as he stepped foot in the library Tobirama took a deep breath in and held it, savoring one of his favorite smells in the whole world. Madara eyed him strangely and gave a little sniff of his own. Underneath the dust kicked up by dozens of bodies shuffling around there hung the scent of old parchment, ink, leather bindings, the stink of the glue from cheaply made tomes. If peace and relaxation had a scent it would be this. Already Tobirama could feel the tension sliding away from him and he deliberately ignored the look Madara was giving him as he dragged them towards his favorite table in the far back corner where most people knew better than to disturb him. Just because he’d agreed to let Madara do his own thing with whatever students found him here didn’t mean he had to make it easy for them to do so. One or two at a time was one thing but he was really hoping this didn’t turn in to a full blown class right next to him.

On their way back to the table he snatched a few books off the shelves, handing most of them over to his partner without thinking much about it. He only had one hand available to him at the moment and it was busy pulling down new worlds to explore. Madara only really seemed to realize that he was placidly accepting them all when the pile grew so high it obstructed his vision and the weight of them all became painful where their hands were clasped under one side of the stack.

“I think that’s enough for now, don’t you?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Perhaps. If I want more later I can always drag you along.” Tobirama snagged some of them back and together they trundled on over to the table he liked best.

As soon as they settled in to adjacent chairs Tobirama disappeared behind two books at once, furrowing his brows and determined to ignore the adolescent boy he could already see approaching them. He hadn’t expected anyone to find them so quickly, although he supposed they hadn’t made much of an effort to hide their entrance.

“Uchiha-sensei, it’s good to see that you’re okay! You’ve been out of class for days but no one will say why!” The boy even sounded earnest in his worry. Madara preened next to him while Tobirama rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“I’m fine, Kiba. Where’s Akamaru?”

A quite woof caught Tobirama’s attention, popping his head over the stack of books to see a cute little puppy grinning happily from his place inside the student’s book bag. He preferred cats himself but dogs had their own allure in some cases. The one hiding there was certainly cute with his tiny pink tongue and his floppy ears, not the sort of puppy one turned down a chance to pet.

“Don’t tell, please,” Kiba begged them. “He’s not supposed to be in here but he promised not to chew on anything! He just stays in my bag!”

“Familiars are supposed to stay out of study areas,” Madara reminded the boy. Kiba drooped sadly in time with his dog. “I won’t tell if you let me hold him for a bit, though.”

“Alright!”

Tobirama did a quick mental check to make sure his jaw hadn’t dropped entirely off his face as Madara maneuvered their hands apart while pressing their sides together so he could accept the little puppy and greet it cheerfully. Akamaru, as was apparently its name, greeted him back with another polite woof and a few licks up the center of his face. Instead of getting mad or jerking away in disgust Madara only chuckled and settled the pup in his lap for a good scratch behind the ears.

It was at that point that Tobirama began to question if this was really Madara that he’d been bound to or just a really close lookalike. Where was the uptight fool who never took so much as a step out of bounds or did anything unexpected? What happened to the man whose temper flared up at the slightest hint that someone might be breaking a rule? It was like he was holding a complete stranger’s thigh.

Which was kind of creepy and not a mental image he wanted to focus on.

He noted Madara giving him a look from the corner of one eye that would have been inscrutable if not for the connection between their minds. Even then it took a minute or so to work through the confusion and unravel everything, from the slight offense at being assumed so uptight to the mild smugness at having disproved such an assumption and even the mostly suppressed happiness to have Tobirama recognize that he wasn’t that bad of a person. That last bit they both ignored.

Despite his insistence that he would be spending their little outing doing his own thing, Tobirama found himself ignoring the book propped up in front of him while instead he observed the way Madara interacted with his students. He was a far cry from the warm paternal type but neither was he cold and aloof the way most of the other teachers assumed him to be. When one of the little buggers stopped by with a question he answered it with no sugar coating, explaining things further when they asked, and although he never held back on telling them they had something wrong he was never cruel about it either.

As much as Tobirama hated to admit it, the man was apparently a descent teacher.

Over an hour after they sat down he finally managed to peel his eyes away from the disturbingly heartwarming sight of Madara hunched over a half finished essay with a tearful young girl and pointing out all the parts where she was on the right track. Clearing his throat as quietly as possible, he forced himself to focus on the book in front of him and not the feelings of pride rolling off the man at his side. Giving his attention to some ancient dead man’s account of a water based summoning he may or may not have gotten to work one time was clearly a better use of his time than speculating over how all of those adolescents could simply ignore it whenever their professor’s fingers began to smoke with frustration. Much more interesting, obviously. It meant nothing that it took forever to convince himself to concentrate on the proper thing.

Like always, once he’d actually managed to sink in to the texts he was reading time seemed to pass him by in a great wave without him noticing in the slightest. It felt like only five minutes later that he felt a shoulder bumped pointedly against his own and resurfaced to discover that he’d gone through four different books as easily as turning to the next page.

“We should eat,” Madara said. When Tobirama looked around there were no students in sight and Madara’s body was turned at such an angle that it looked like he’d been reading the book over Tobirama’s shoulder.

“The hell are you doing?”

“Shut up! You were so absorbed and you felt so happy reading it, I just wanted to see what was so interesting!” He leaned back in his chair with a scowl but it did very little to cover his embarrassment at being caught. Tobirama wondered what was so bad about giving in and finally understanding the draw of research but he didn’t ask. Understanding this man’s brain seemed like a good step on the path to crazy town and he was already farther down that road than he would have liked.

Now that it had been brought to his attention, though, he realized that he was actually starving. Getting some food sounded like a marvelous plan.

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” Madara said, checking the shadows coming in from a nearby window.

“If we hurry we can be back in my rooms by the time Hashirama gets there to deliver us some food.” Convincing his brother to hand deliver their meals until they figured out what to do about the whole stuck together situation had actually been pretty easy. All he’d had to do was point out that it would a good excuse for them all to spend some quality time together. Unfortunately for his brother Tobirama had also already come up with a backup plan for sending the man away when he got tired of the company. A headmaster shouldn’t take too much time away from his work, after all, and he delighted in pointing that out every time.

“You, uh, I don’t suppose you were planning to check that one out?” Madara asked. When Tobirama lifted an eyebrow at him he balked. “What! It was interesting, okay? So sue me!”

He did indeed check that one out, along with a couple others that covered similar subjects, but not without projecting as much cocky amusement as he could. Still, Madara helped him carry them back home so he refrained from making any comments out loud.

The two of them had just enough time to find the right spot in Tobirama’s chaotically organized front room to store the new books before Hashirama arrived with a bright smile and three trays of food.

“Room service!” he called out cheerfully.

“Go service your wife,” Madara snapped back reflexively. Tobirama scrunched his face with disgust and shoved his partner against the wall.

“I didn’t need to picture that!”

“Well I didn’t mean it like that!”

Using the excuse of maintaining contact to keep the other shoved against the wall, Tobirama scoffed. “Of course you didn’t, you’re a prude.”

“Hey! I- I have dirty thoughts sometimes!”

“Oh sweet spirits, I didn’t need to picture that either.” He sniggered as Madara shrieked and squirmed with embarrassment under his hold, smoke all but pouring out from the tips of his fingers, while Hashirama hovered by the doorway with a sad little pout on his lips.

“And here I thought you guys had started getting along better,” he mourned.

Tobirama ignored him.

Not wanting to upset his carefully organized mess, he let Madara stand up away from the wall and – after dodging a half-hearted revenge swipe – led them all in to the next room so they could eat lunch. Hashirama had their food packed up in neat little bento boxes that he had clearly sat down and made from the food provided in the common dining hall. Working in sync without having to talk it through, Tobirama perched himself on the arm of his favorite chair while Madara sank down in to the cushions, their bodies connected but their hands free to reach for their meals.

In a show of incredible restraint, Hashirama managed to stay quiet and observe the two of them until everyone had taken at least a few bites each. Halfway through a mouthful of fried chicken he leaned back in his own seat and tilted his head to look at them from a different angle.

“You know, I’m surprised at you Tobi.” His words had Tobirama pausing with food raised halfway to his mouth.

“Don’t call me that. Surprised why?”

“Because you’ve been finishing all the food that I’ve been bringing every time. I only just thought about it now but I know usually you bring a bit of food back here and leave it out for those raccoons that live outside your window. Did they leave? I thought you said you were trying to help them through the winter!”

Trying very hard to convince the ground to open up and swallow him, Tobirama ignored the stare burning in to the side of his head as he leaned forward to hiss at his brother, “They were squirrels, not little trash goblins, now shut your face.”

Hashirama ducked his head like a chastised child.

“Now hold on a damn second.” Madara set his bento down and Tobirama could almost feel the smirk on his face through their link. “You? Feeding the little squirrels outside?”

“You can shut your face too.”

“What, were they helping you with an experiment or something?” He scoffed at his own joke until Hashirama tossed a chopstick at him, sending Tobirama in a coughing fit when it pinged off the center of Madara’s forehead.

“Don’t be mean to my brother! He’s nice! They were little baby squirrels and Tobi was worried that they weren’t going to make it through the season so he was leaving food out for them to stock up for the winter!”

Tobirama immediately stopping choking with laughter, mirth giving way to an embarrassed frown. “Brother! I said shut up! And stop calling me that!”

Snatching up the weaponized chopstick, he threw it back at his sibling and huffed irritably when the man dodged just in time. No one was ever supposed to know about the squirrels. They weren’t important. They were no one else’s business! Hashirama had no right to out him like that right in front of Madara who now had one hand in front of his mouth to cover the sight of his half chewed food while he laughed.

“Aww, has the cold hearted man gone soft?” he teased.

“Madara! I said don’t be mean to my brother!”

Picking out a piece of chicken from his bento, Tobirama threw that too. “Don’t you have work to do, brother? Go bury yourself in paperwork or something. And clean up the chicken!”

“But you threw it at me!” Hashirama sniffled but he did still lean over to pick up the chicken that had just bounced off his shoulder. “Why are both of you always so mean to me? I just wanted to come hang out for a bit! I mean, yes, I should be working on the admission slips for the next semester but still! So cruel!”

His feet shuffled on his way to the door but it wasn’t enough to make either of them feel bad for sending him away. After seeing him three times a day for several days in a row they had certainly spent enough time together not to feel guilty over cutting one lunch short. They both knew he’d be over it in less than five minutes anyway, off to find some other excuse to avoid the work he should be doing.

Alone again, Tobirama avoided looking down at his partner and considered the irony that they had been so looking forward to some kind of company and still ended up chasing away the one person always willing to provide it. Madara pressed at the barrier between their thoughts, the feeling of him still heavy with amused disbelief, driving Tobirama to concentrate as hard as he could on the bento in his lap. Chicken had never been his favorite but it was better than getting made fun of for having a soft spot for animals.

They were defenseless! And tiny! Only a monster would hate little creatures like that. Evidently Madara had thought him a monster but it was hard to find that offensive when he’d thought the same in return until recently. Being wrong was the worst.

“I think that’s the record for the fastest we’ve been able to chase him off,” his partner said out of the blue.

“That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Should I be saying something else?”

When Tobirama peeked down Madara was looking back up at him with a knowing light in his eyes, more than aware that he was waiting to be made fun of.

“Just shut up.”

“Always putting your best foot forward,” Madara snickered.

By now Tobirama had learned enough about the man beside him to know that if he said anything more he would just be asking for trouble and, while that normally wouldn’t bother him, he had never been a big fan of setting himself in the line of fire. It would be best to just eat his meal quietly and let them both go on about their day.

After lunch they spent the rest of the afternoon doing more tests trying to figure out the exact limit of how far apart they could separate now without pain and for how long. For the first couple of hours they only managed an inch or so for a couple of minutes at a time and always they needed a little while of solid contact to recover from it. Mostly they filled those stretches by sitting together and devouring one of the library books. After a while, though, they managed to stretch the distance to almost two feet and last for nearly ten minutes. It wasn’t much but for two people who had spent the past forever holding hands it was like a taste of freedom.

Hours after he had left with his tail between his legs Hashirama returned bearing three dinners and a smile.

“Guess what? I went back to my office and Mito was already there working on the admission slips! Isn’t that amazing? I just don’t know what I would do without her.” For a few seconds he was gone in to dreamland and Tobirama used that time to swap their meals around so he got the larger portion.

“Drown under your own responsibilities?” he suggested, bringing his sibling back to earth. Madara offered him a fist to pound before opening his own food.

“Tobi–”

“No!”

“Stop being mean to your big brother. I promise I helped her as soon as I saw that she’d started the work herself! It’s not like I actually just sit back and let her do all my work for me all the time. That would just be…well. We’d fight for sure.” Hashirama shuddered at the very thought – and rightfully so. Mito made an imposing figure even when she was in a good mood; when angered she was terrifying.

Half the meal passed by while all three of them were busy reliving their worst nightmares, all of which featured an angry Mito. The silence lasted until Tobirama stood up to brush the crumbs off his lap and Hashirama gasped with shock when he saw the lack of contact between them.

“Oh! Does this mean you two are all better now?” he asked.

“What? No.” Tobirama pinched his lips together disapprovingly. “Did you not listen when your daughter explained what happened to us? This isn’t something that’s going to ‘get better’ as you say.”

“But you guys aren’t touching! So does that mean everything is back to normal?”

Madara scoffed. “Afraid not. I don’t know that we’ll ever get back to normal, per se, but we do have a bit of leeway now and I must say it’s nice to have my own person all to myself again.”

Despite the confidence in his expression and the complete relaxation in the way he was sitting, Tobirama only needed one look at his partner to realize that the man was lying. He refrained from calling him out, however, because that would mean drawing attention to the fact that he felt the same way. Freedom was the jewel they had spent every day chasing after since this whole fiasco began and now that they had it they didn’t like it.

Freedom meant being apart and it was as wonderful as it was terrible. The more Tobirama learned about the man at his side the harder it was to keep insisting they hated each other. Irritating he might be and rough around the edges but not nearly as bad as assumed. Antagonistic and snarky for sure. Heartless dick not so much. Getting some space in between them at last was great when Tobirama thought about all the times one of them was restless and wanted to pace but the other didn’t. It lost a lot of its shine when he thought about how if they kept getting more space Madara could eventually move back in to his own rooms, a subject neither of them had even bothered to bring up since that first day.

“Oi, are you listening?” Tobirama blinked. He had not, in fact, been listening. Had not even been aware the conversation continued after he got lost inside his own morbid thoughts.

“Did I miss something important?” he asked instead of admitting to anything. Madara snorted but Hashirama forgave him with an easy smile.

“Well Madara was saying how nice it was to get out and see something other than these rooms for a change and we started talking about things that could get you guys out again. Just for a little while! I know how much neither of you want people staring and wondering why you’re holding hands.” Something in Hashirama’s smile looked hopeful for a few terrible seconds until Tobirama glared hard enough to make it go away again.

“Go on…”

Waving his friend off, Madara took up the recap. “I told him I was anxious to get back to class and he suggested you sit in with me. You wouldn’t have to do anything and you could sit at my desk where we would be close enough to touch; I’m sure we can manage to be subtle about it.”

“About as subtle as your hair,” Tobirama snapped. Then he wrinkled his nose and grumbled, “Habit. Sorry. That’s an interesting idea, actually.” It would be fascinating to compare how different the man was when faced with dozens of students at once rather than one on one, if his lectures were as boring as Tobirama remembered from when he took the class. If he tried very hard he might be able to convince himself that was the only reason he was agreeing to this.

“Excellent! If it becomes a regular thing maybe Tobi can be your teacher’s assistant! Oh, that would just be so cute!” Hashirama clasped his hands together with joy – then yelped when Tobirama leaned over to shove him sideways.

“Not likely.”

When he sat back down Madara was staring at him with a worried expression. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“I – what?”

“You said ‘as subtle as my hair’, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, I guess? It’s just…puffy. All that volume, it basically arrives everywhere five minutes before the rest of you does. I’d ask if you brush it but I know you do.” Tobirama lifted one eyebrow in judgment as Madara patted the sides of his head anxiously. He would never understand why anyone bothered to grow their hair out. After spending his childhood watching Hashirama nearly choke to death every time he forgot to braid his hair before bed Tobirama had decided that he would never grow his own out, not even as long as his shoulders. How Madara avoided the same fate was a mystery.

“Of course I brush my hair! You brushed my hair for me yesterday!” Madara crossed his arms in offense and turned away. It would have been more believable if he hadn’t then leaned back in to Tobirama’s side like an angry girlfriend desperate for attention.

Hashirama watched them with wide eyes and a smile that could not spell anything good.

“Brother…you brush his hair for him?”

“It was only a couple of times!” Tobirama protested. “And only because he was too lazy to do it for himself and I couldn’t stand the rat’s nest!”

“That is just so sweet of you! Aw, you guys really are getting along better!” Clasping his hands together again, Hashirama beamed like the annoying little sunshine he was, determined to find any excuse to shine.

With their minds melded the way they were Madara and Tobirama were able to look at him in perfect sync, wrinkle their noses, and grumble, “Ugh.”

Then they both turned away in silent agreement to ignore him for the next few minutes until he apologized for getting unnecessarily mushy. After that he made sure not to mention anything about how much nicer they were treating each other and instead started chattering about who had been covering Madara’s classes while he was away and how happy the students would be to see him back.

Used to spending most of his days alone with ink and paper, Tobirama eventually checked out of the conversation and let the two best friends carry on without him, subtly dragging one of the books towards him that they hadn’t had time to put away when Hashirama showed up. Neither of them seemed to notice when he cracked it open across his lap but before he could get lost in the knowledge awaiting him he peeked over at Madara with his eyes narrowed curiously.

Hopefully Madara wasn’t paying enough attention to the link between them to feel how interested he actually was in going to sit in on the man’s class. After learning so many new things about a man he once thought he understood inside and out, Tobirama found his attention piqued.

What else did he not know about Uchiha Madara?

[delicatelyherdreams]

Teardrops on Lashes (Epilogue)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After the Chitauri invaded New York and nearly ended your life, you moved to Bucharest to get away from the superhero stuff. You simply wanted an uneventful, ordinary life. But when a stranger moves into the apartment next to yours, you begin to question those aspirations and choose to risk it all for love.

Warnings: does not follow cannon story line

Word Count: 2460

Teardrops on Lashes Masterlist

Previous: Part 16

“Oh my god!” you squealed. “Look at how big she’s gotten.”

Nicole’s smiled at you from the computer screen and lifted up her newborn. “I know, right? Jamie’s huge for three months.” She smiled and turned to cradle her daughter in her arms. “You’re a big baby, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” she cooed.

Jamie babbled in her mother’s arms, eliciting a smile from you.

“I still can’t believe you named her Jamie,” you said shaking your head.

“Well, why not?” Nicole asked. “All the other kids are named after great people in our lives so why shouldn’t I name her after James?”

A soft smile crossed your lips. “I have no idea.”

She’d really taken the whole Bucky situation well; so much better than you had expected. You thought that, once she found out the truth, she’d be a little wary of him and not want to see him again for a while, but the exact opposite happened.

She seemed to revere him now as some sort of god of strength which, if you were being honest, amused the hell out of you. She was so amazed that he had dealt with all that shit in his past and still managed to be a good, kind, and gentle person. She wanted to honor him so much that she even went as far as naming her baby after him.

You knew Bucky would get a kick out of that one when he finally woke up.

As if reading your thoughts, Nicole’s expression turned a little solemn. “Is he awake yet?” she asked as she bit her lip gently.

You shook your head. “No. It’s been five months now. The doctor’s think they’re close to finishing the cure, but they aren’t certain enough to wake him up yet.” You pursed your lips together as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “They said they wouldn’t bring him back until they were absolutely certain.”

“How are you holding up?” she asked, shifting Jamie in her arms so the baby would be more comfortable. 

You shrugged and averted your gaze. “Same as always, I guess. Shuri’s keeping me busy. We’re working on some upgrades for the Black Panther suit. She wants to figure out how to get it to absorb kinetic energy and use it in its own attacks.”

“Ooh fancy!”

You nodded, your smile turning a little eager. “I know, right? I’m helping her with some of the technical parts of it. It’s surprisingly similar to coding so I’m actually useful to her.”

She snickered. “You were always useful, (y/n). And I’m glad you’re not moping around anymore. I was afraid I was going to have to fly out there and kick some sense into you myself.”

You felt your cheeks burn at the mention of your short depressed period. In the week or two following Bucky’s going under you were hardly motivated to get out of bed, much less leave the room. It’d hit you just a few hours after reading his letter and notes for the first time—the realization that he was actually gone, that is. It hit you like a freaking tidal wave. The Wakandans gave you your space, they were very understanding and you were grateful for that, but they always came in to check up on you at random. It was about halfway into week three that the princess came into visit you. She’d drawn you out of your room, had you get yourself cleaned up and situated, and then practically dragged you down to her lab to learn the ropes and help her out. If she hadn’t come to got you and get you busy, you probably wouldn’t be as awake and “alive” as you were now. “I wasn’t that bad,” you muttered.

“Oh yes you were,” she affirmed. “You were so bad I thought you had just watched a puppy getting kicked. But I’m glad you’re up and about now.” Her smile melted slightly off her face. “Are you still going to see him?” she asked, her voice sympathetic and gentle.

You nodded. “Everyday. I think the doctors are getting tired of seeing me outside his pod.”

Nicole chuckled. “I wouldn’t blame them. You sit there for hours doing nothing.”

“That’s not true!” you said in mock offense. “I read while I’m there and binge Netflix. I do stuff.”

“Boring stuff.” She frowned. “Bucky would tell you to get a life rather than wait around for him.”

You tilted your head. “I know, but I’d still do it anyways. I miss his company.”

“I know you do, (y/n), but he’s not gone forever. Just you wait. I’ll bet those doctors will have a cure for him by next week.”

You chuckled. “You said that last week.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, well I’ll get it right one of these times.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said with a soft smile.

Nicole opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment Jamie decided to get fussy.

The girl began to squirm and cry in her mother’s arms, punching her tiny little fists into the air as she wailed.

Nicole quickly turned her attention away from you towards her child. “Oh, hey. Shh... Is it nap time now?”

You smirked at the screen. “I think it is. She’s saying, ‘Mommy! Mommy! Put me to sleep so I’m not tired in the middle of the night and can stay up all night long, crying and screaming so that you and Daddy don’t sleep at all.”

She grumbled under her breath. “Yeah, no joke.” She shifted Jamie in her arms. “Well, I think that this is my queue to go.”

You nodded. “Alright. I probably should too. Wouldn’t want to be late for my date with my sleeping boyfriend.”

“You’re a creep.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You smiled. “Tell Andrei and the kids I said hi and give them all big hugs for me.”

Nodding her head, she said, “I will. You take care now and visit soon, okay?”

“Okay. Talk to you later, Nic.” Your finger hovered over the “End Call” button.

“You too, (y/n).”

Your finger quickly tapped down on the button and the screen blacked out. You sat back in your chair and sighed.

You missed Nicole and her family, you really did, but your time here in Wakanda was far from being over. Bucky still wasn’t awake so you couldn’t leave, you wouldn’t leave. You’d promised him that you’d be there when he woke up and you weren’t about to break that promise.

You took a deep breath, closed your computer, and pushed yourself up. Standing, you began to collect some little things. You scooped up your laptop and a few books that were sitting on the desk and held them close to your chest. It was time for your daily stake out in front of Bucky’s cryo pod.

You carried your things out of the suite and down the halls that had become vividly familiar over the past few months. You’d walked this path dozens of times on your way to visit Bucky while he was asleep. 

You didn’t do much during these visits. You’d read, do some coding for whatever project you and Shuri were working on, and talk aimlessly as if he was listening. Sometimes you’d carry out full conversations with him and acted as if he could hear you and was responding. The doctors and lab technicians never commented on your strange behaviors, something you were really grateful for. You already felt crazy as it was talking to nobody. But in some weird way, talking to him almost helped you keep your sanity. As you’d sit there, your back pressed against the glass and speaking to him, you felt he was there with you in more than just physical presence. And that was a comforting feeling.

You rounded one last corner in the palace, slowing to a stop in the waiting area just outside the medical bay. You smiled at the attendant at the medical bay’s front desk. “Hey, Kali,” you greeted as you walked towards the doors that would lead you towards Bucky’s wing.

She smiled back. “Morning, (y/n). You here to see Bucky again?”

“Always am,” you said shaking your head with a grin. “Mind buzzing me in?”

“Sure thing.” Kali turned to her desk and pressed a few buttons.

The doors in front of you hummed as the lock clicked back and swung open.

“Thanks!” you called as you shifted your things in your arms and walked into the bay.

The room was as familiar as ever with its white walls and sterile atmosphere. Nothing had changed in the twenty four hours since you had last been there, and its familiarity was somewhat comforting.

You strode further into the room and rounded various corners to where Bucky’s pod stood, but when you got there, there was something very wrong.

You stopped dead in your tracks, the color draining from your face when you saw his pod.

The door was slid down and the pod was vacant, missing a very important occupant.

You felt your breathing quicken as your eyes darted around the room anxiously. “Bucky! Where’s Bucky?” you asked frantically.

The attendant closest to you looked up, startled at your sudden outburst.

You turned your gaze to her. “The man in the pod, where did he go?” you asked, your voice trembling.

She pointed towards the exit. “He left. You just missed him. He said he had to find someone.”

So he was loose in the palace. You hastily thanked her before turning on your heel and darting out of the room. There were so many places he could be. You were racking your brain with places he would go, but you didn’t know just how well he knew the palace, if he did at all, and if he didn’t know it that well you knew how easy it was for him to get lost from prior experience.

And then you found him.

And the world stopped.

He was wandering the halls with no apparent destination in sight. He looked just as he did when he went under all those months ago. Granted, the bruises and cuts on his face had faded and healed, but he still wore the white clothes and the black cuff at the base of his arm. His hair had gotten a little bit longer as well. His eyes were darting across the hall, looking, searching, and seeking something. Seeking what? You didn’t know, but at that moment all that mattered was him being there, awake and well.

“Bucky!” you shouted the running as fast of your legs would take you.

He turned just in time to see you coming and brace himself for your incoming bear hug. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you and he lifted his arm to hold you.

You threw yourself in to his embrace, letting the tears flow freely as the emotions and joy of having him back overwhelmed you. He wrapped his arm around your torso, letting his hand gravitate towards the back of your head and his fingers tangle themselves in your hair as he pulled your head close. He was crying too, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and he buried his face in the top of your head pressing a kiss to your hair. God how you missed him, his touch, his presence. These last few months had been the longest ones of your life and now that they were over, you couldn’t be happier. Being there in his touch, you felt it all melt away.

You gasped back a sob as you looked up at him and brought your hand up to his cheek. “You’re awake,” you cried out in between wet bouts of laughter.

He gazed down at your face. “I’m awake,” he confirmed.

“How long?” you asked

“About twenty hours,” he answered. “They told me they had a break through right after you left last night, and they knew it would work. And... I think it did, (y/n). I have my mind back.” The joy on his face was incomparable.

“You’re free?” you asked, your heart daring to hope.

He nodded. “They’ll never control me again, doll.”

At those words, every emotion that you had been bottling up over the past five months spilled out in a tsunami.

You buried your face in his chest as you squeezed him tighter. “Oh Bucky.”

He smiled and pressed his lips against your forehead. “I know, (y/n). I know...”

You couldn’t contain your joy and so you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his in a kiss full of adoration and love.

He hummed against your lips as he kissed you back, only pulling away to gasp for air. He rested his forehead against yours and breathed a laugh. “God you have no idea how much I missed you, doll. I dreamed about you that whole time, replaying every moment I had with you over and over again. And when I woke up, I was so hoping to see you there next to me, but the doctors had told me that you literally had just left.” He shook his head gently with a regretful smile. “I wish you had been there, but I knew you were probably tired. God... Waiting for them to finish with me was horrible. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and when they finished, I just had to come and find you. But I guess you found me instead.” He lifted his gaze up, looking at you with playful blue eyes. “I guess you have a real knack for that, huh?”

You chuckled. “I guess I do.” You hummed. “Oh, Buck, there’s so much you’ve missed. Come on, I’ll tell you all about it.”

He smiled and wrapped his arm around your waist. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You smirked knowingly. “Oh just you wait. Nicole had her baby and I think you’ll like the name.”

The two of you began the walk down the hallway back towards your room side-by-side, his arm around your waist, your arm around his torso, a smile on his face and your head resting against his shoulder. As you moved, you couldn’t help the feeling in your heart; that warm fuzziness that came along only when you were with the one you loved. It was a feeling that was reserved for him and him only, and it was good.

In that moment, all was good.

He was there with you.

There was no danger.

You were happy.

And that was how it would stay.

Because you had your Bucky—your James—and all was right.

Teardrops on Lashes Taglist: @fuckthatfeeling @lynnskata @aveatquevale- @writing-for-a-chance @imbuckybarness @notimetoblog @anxietyrosee @tutis24 @ultranikilove @drakelover78 @phoenix-and-unicorns @bbycloudz @rainbowkisses31 @champagnejoker @thetimidsarcasticcat @lokigreyvatore @lostinspace33 @londonalozzy @pop-princess08 @melancholland @imasxbstxn @eminem-owns-my-asshole @lookwhatyoumademequeue

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @cauraphernelia

Permanent Taglist: @dont-speak-just-read @becauseismellgood @impalaimages @breezy1415 @lou-la-lou @aestheticapricity @a-book-pressed-rose @watchoutforfrostbite @dragonborn791924 

[oceteva]

Caught In The Middle | Mayans MC ~ Welcome Home, Ezekiel

Info | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Word Count : 6,725

Victoria Miller tightened her messy brunette bun on the top of her head while she sat in her air conditioned car for a moment once she was parked outside of the familiar butcher shop; Carniceria Reyes. The brunette woman knew as soon as she stepped foot onto the street of her hometown that a heat wave was going to hit her, so Victoria tried to absorb all of the cold air that she could. It had already been a long day for the woman as she had just finished working a 12-hour shift in the Pediatric department at Santo Padre Medical Center.

However, Victoria didn't mind stopping by the butcher shop. Carniceria Reyes had always been like a second home to the nurse as a child since Felipe and Marisol Reyes had taken care of her and made sure that she was well fed while her father; John, was off dealing meth through the neighborhoods and her mother; Stacey, was off stripping at the local clubs or they were both in jail.

Finally, after about four more minutes of cool air streaming on her face, Victoria, sadly, turned off her red Hyundai Accent and exited out of the vehicle to face the sunny weather of California. The brunette nurse immediately released a heavy sigh at the hotness but knew it wasn't anything new before she locked her car and placed her keys into the front pocket of her light blue scrubs. Victoria then looked both way before she quickly crossed the street and entered the cool butcher shop.

"Pop!" Victoria shouted like she usually did when she would stop by while she gave the customers a small smile once she was in the presence of the smell of fresh meat. The Miller woman then headed towards the back when she didn't hear the gruff voice of the owner of the shop before she continued, "hey, where are you? I'm here so you can go take a break for a couple -" However, before Victoria could finish telling Felipe to go rest, she was surprised when she walked into the backroom and saw someone that she hasn't seen in eight years.

"EZ!" The brunette nurse shouted in shock before a small smile shined across her pale pink lips. "Look what the cat dragged in," Victoria joked before she held her arms out as she waited for her hug. Victoria was honestly surprised that Ezekiel was here. The last time that they had talked, which was a couple of weeks ago, EZ didn't say anything about getting released from prison.

Ezekiel let out a deep chuckle before he stood up from the metal chair and quickly walked over to his best friend. The younger Reyes then pulled Victoria into a tight hug before he twirled the brunette woman in the air for three long circles. Ezekiel listened to one of his favorite sounds as Victoria laughed once he placed her sneakers back onto the ground before he asked with a smile on his own face, "what are you doing here? I thought you would have left this town like you planned when we were younger."

Victoria gave her best friend a bright smile as she couldn't help but to be happy that Ezekiel was here in person. It had been forever since she had seen his face. Ezekiel had made it a rule that she wasn't allowed to visit him since he didn't want to upset her. But they did speak over the phone once a week, so they were still close. However, the one thing Victoria never did tell Ezekiel is where she was living. Victoria knew if she had told Ezekiel that she had decided to stay in Santo Padre then he would have worried about her, so she always kept that a secret during their talks.

"Pop needed the help with the shop," Victoria stated with a shrug of her shoulders before she explained, "besides, I still got to do what we talked about when we were in high school. I'm a nurse." The Miller woman then shot her best friend a small smirk as she added, "I just have some private clients during the night and the kiddies during the day."

Felipe loudly scoffed at Victoria's description of her job to his younger son before he told Ezekiel with resentment in his voice, "she's working with the MC." The older Reyes still hated, after two years, that Victoria was around the Mayans thanks to his older son. Felipe cared for the young woman like his own children, so he showed his disgust every chance he got for the fact that Victoria was running with the motorcycle club.

Ezekiel's brown eyes instantly widened in surprise at this new information. He had been back in Santo Padre for three weeks and he hadn't heard about any of this. Ezekiel had made sure his brother nor his father told Victoria that he was in town just yet as he was more focused on prospecting for the aforementioned motorcycle club. But now Ezekiel is pissed that Angel didn't tell him anything about his best friend hanging around the club and is also worried that Victoria could get mixed up with the wrong things. "What the hell, Victoria?" The prospect snapped as he couldn't hold in his emotions, "are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Victoria let out a heavy sigh as she knew that she would get this reaction if Ezekiel knew the truth. It was the same way Felipe reacted but with more yelling. Victoria understood why Ezekiel was worried but there really wasn't any reason to, so the brunette nurse opened her mouth to explain that she was being safe. However, before Victoria could even utter a single word, the older Reyes brother came strutting into the backroom with his loud boots and his MC colors on his back.

"Hey, Pop," Angel greeted his father with a single nod of his head along with his brother with a simple, "EZ," before he headed over to  Victoria. The older Reyes then titled the brunette woman's pale chin towards the ceiling and looked into her hazel eyes with a lazy smile before he placed a soft kiss onto her smooth lips. "How was work?" Angel inquired once he took a small step back from Victoria.

Victoria gave Angel a small smile as she stared into his brown eyes before she murmured, "it was good." The Miller woman then moved her eyes over to her best friend, where she noticed the wide-eyed Ezekiel. The brunette nurse couldn't help but let out a heavy chuckle at the clueless Reyes. "I think we need to have a talk," Victoria told her best friend as she knew she needed to explain a lot of things to Ezekiel. The Miller woman then turned her attention onto Pop once Ezekiel nodded his head in agreement before she asked, "will you be okay while I take EZ out to talk?"

The elder Reyes silently walked over to Victoria instead of answering her question and placed a kiss onto the top of her head like he always does when he knows that she's about to leave before he grumbled under his breath as he stomped his way back to the front of the butcher shop, "I've been running this place for thirty plus years and never needed any damn help. Chica Loca."  

The two Reyes brothers and the Miller woman all let out soft chuckles at the older man as it wasn't anything new that they weren't used to while growing up. They were all used to his small English to Spanish rants and his storming outs. The backroom of the butcher shop then grew silent after a moment or so before Angel turned his attention onto Victoria with a deep pout. "I thought you were gonna join me tonight for drinks at the clubhouse," Angel mumbled as he lazily wrapped his arms around the brunette's small waist.

Victoria shook her head in amusement at Angel's clingy attitude before she promised, "I'll stop by later." The Miller woman gave the older Reyes a small smile as she stated, "I just need to talk to EZ for a bit." She then stood onto her tippy toes and placed a quick kiss onto Angel's lips before she looked over at EZ and nodded her head towards the door. Victoria knew that there was going to be some tension between the brothers since they never really gotten along, so she wanted to hurry EZ out of the door before they started a fight.

Thankfully, Ezekiel understood Victoria's memo as he was only a couple of steps behind her. "Hey, uh, do you mind if I ride with you?" The younger Reyes questioned as he scratched the back of his head once they were standing outside of the butcher shop. Ezekiel didn't want to ride his new motorcycle just yet as he wanted to tell Victoria first that he was prospecting with the Mayans. He felt it would be easier than if his best friend saw him on the back of a new Harley with his kutte on his back.

Victoria glanced over to her best friend for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders and mumbled, "sure." The Miller woman felt like it was obvious that Ezekiel would be riding with her as she didn't see Pop's truck anywhere on the street, but she didn't push her confusion any further. Victoria figured Ezekiel was just still trying to get used to the outside world after being inside prison for eight years.

Once the childhood best friends were settled into the Miller woman's red Hyundai Accent with the soft sound of rock music coming from the radio, they drove the short drive to Mama's Tacos, where Victoria and Ezekiel would come to eat everyday after school. They ordered their signature order of al pastor and barbacoa tacos before they settled into the back corner of the small restaurant, where they instantly began to eat before Victoria decided it was time to explain somethings to Ezekiel.

"After all that shit that went down after high school," Victoria began as she decided not to actually speak the day that they lost the lovely Marisol Reyes as she knew Ezekiel already has that day branded into his brain, "I decided to help out Pop with the shop while I went to college. So I went to Sonoma State University about an hour away for six years and got my Master's degree." Victoria took another bite out of her taco before she continued, "I got a job at SPMC about two years ago which was around the time I got my second job."

Ezekiel took a sip of his cold Dr. Pepper and shook his head in confusion at his best friend's story before he voiced his puzzlement, "where does Angel come into all this?" The younger Reyes just couldn't put everything together from what he saw earlier at the butcher shop. "I mean, you guys act like you are a couple or some shit," Ezekiel mumbled as he took a large bite of his taco.

Victoria shrugged her shoulders as she wasn't exactly sure how to answer that. "Ange was dealing with the stress of losing mama M and stuff with the club and I was trying to help out the family while juggling college and losing you and mama M. So, we got closer by consoling one another and the next thing I know I'm best friends with the guy that used to make fun of my hair and glasses as a kid," Victoria explained, "and then one thing led to another, we ended up sleeping together." The Miller woman then let out a sigh when she saw Ezekiel's same confused expression before she tried once more, "I don't know what to tell you, EZ, we're friends but we are there for each other. If we need to relieve some stress, we call each other up and we greet and care for one another like you saw. We just don't put any labels on it."

Ezekiel slowly nodded his head as he began to piece everything together. The younger Reyes understood since he was locked up and his family was falling apart behind him while his best friend and brother slowly migrated towards one another. Ezekiel was just more pissed at Angel for never mentioning it during the last twenty-one days that he has spent at the clubhouse. "So, is that how you got messed in with the Mayans?" Ezekiel couldn't help but ask with anger in his voice for the fact that Angel not only stole his best friend but has also endangered her life by bringing her around the clubhouse - the sole reason why he hadn't reached out to Victoria since he's been back in Santo Padre.

Victoria waved her hand carelessly as she tried to push away Ezekiel's blame on Angel. "It just sort of happened," the brunette woman uttered before she explained how she got involved with the motorcycle club, "Ange came by one night with a bleeding Coco and I fixed him up. Bish then had Angel bring me down to the templo the next day." Victoria shrugged her shoulders as she commented, "I guess Bishop wanted to know if he could trust me after patching up one of his men." The Miller woman took another bite out of her taco before she continued, "anyway, Angel explained to Bish that I've been his close friend for years and explained how I've been helping out with Pop, so he accepted me. Now, whenever the club needs anything medical, they just call me to the house so they don't have to go through the hospital system or the tunnels."

The younger Reyes let out a heavy sigh as he stared into his best friend's hazel eyes. "Are you at least being safe and careful, Vic?" Ezekiel questioned as he still didn't like that Victoria was getting involved with the club that he's prospecting for. He knew how dangerous things can get by only being around them for a short while but he didn't want his childhood best friend to get involved in all the guns and drugs. Victoria is the only sane thing in his life and he didn't want to ruin that.

Victoria rolled her hazel eyes at her worried best friend before she exclaimed, "yes, EZ." She shrugged her shoulders and explained, "whenever I show up, it's just the club so I'm never around any of the Mayans' connections or enemies." Victoria then gave Ezekiel a small smile as she knew what was running through her best friend's mind before she stated, "you should give Angel some credit. He makes sure I'm never in the middle of the club's problems or in any danger."

"Oh, I'll give him something," Ezekiel mumbled under his breath as he shoved the rest of his taco into his mouth. The younger Reyes was still pissed that his brother was involving Victoria into the club and it wasn't because of their relationship either. Yeah, Ezekiel didn't like the relationship Victoria and Angel had but he thought his brother would be smart enough to not involve Victoria with the motorcycle club. It's dangerous as it is for them but now his best friend goes to the clubhouse on a basis which puts a big red target on her back.

"What's your problem with the club, EZ?" The Miller woman couldn't help but ask once she tossed her napkin into the plastic red basket. She had noticed the hostility towards the Mayans ever since she had ran into her best friend at the butcher shop. Victoria knew it was different from Pop's usual disgust with the club, but she just couldn't put her finger on why Ezekiel is so pissed off with her helping out the club. Victoria knew it could be dangerous for her but she and Angel make sure that she's safe, so she didn't see what Ezekiel's issue was.

The younger Reyes pressed his knuckles into his forehead with a heavy sigh at Victoria's question as he knew that he needed to tell her the truth. Victoria was the only one in town that didn't know about his involvement with the club and now that she knows that he's back, Ezekiel can't keep hiding it any longer. "Listen," the younger Reyes began as he messed with short nails, "the reason why I don't like you going around the club is because I'm prospecting and I know how dangerous it is, Vic."

The Miller woman's hazel eyes instantly widened in surprise at her best friend's confession before her brows furrowed a second later. "How are you already prospecting when you barely just got back to S'Padre?" Victoria inquired in confusion. She didn't know much about the process of becoming a club member for the Mayans but Victoria figured it would take more than just a couple of hours to be an official prospect.

"Uh," Ezekiel mumbled as he nervously scratched the back of his head before he confessed his other secret, "I've actually been home for three weeks and I've been prospecting for the last two weeks and a half." The younger Reyes knew he was going to be hit with a mouth loud of yelling from his best friend but he would do again and again. Ezekiel knew it was keeping Victoria safe by not telling her but, of course, Angel forgot to mention that Victoria already comes to the clubhouse and is also involved with a member of the Mayans. No wonder Angel makes me leave when someone's injured, Ezekiel realized as he waited for the blow from his best friend.

"Are you kidding me, Ezekiel?" Victoria snapped as she reached across the small table and slapped her best friend's black and red plaid shirt covered arm. "Do you not fucking realize how worried I've been for your ass?" The angry Miller woman ranted, "I got so worried when I didn't talk to you for the past two Thursdays for our weekly phone call. I thought something happened to your ass on the inside!" Victoria couldn't believe that her best friend not only didn't tell her that he was out of prison but he is also involved with the club. "Wait," Victoria paused with anger still steaming from her ears before she interrogated, "did Angel know all this time?"

Ezekiel nodded his head before he quickly explained before Victoria could go on a hunting party for his brother, "I told him and Pop to keep quiet until I was ready to tell you." The younger Reyes ran his hand through his short hair with a loud huff before he tried to convince his best friend that he needs to do this as he questioned, "who's going to hire an ex-con, Vic?" He shook his head and mumbled, "no one, that's who. At least with the club, I know that my skills will be put to use."

Victoria grumbled under her breath as she knew Ezekiel is right. No one in their right mind would hire a cop killer/ ex-con no matter the fact that he has a degree from Stanford. The Miller woman knew this is Ezekiel's best option at a normal life. At least he'll have Angel, the brunette thought as she knew the older Reyes wouldn't let Ezekiel do anything too stupid. "Fine," Victoria finally mumbled as she rolled her hazel eyes before she exclaimed once she stole a jalapeno from Ezekiel's basket, "I'm still gonna give Angel hell for this, though."

Ezekiel let out a thankful chuckle at the fact that Victoria wasn't too mad at him and the fact that his brother was going to get part of the blame as well. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Vic," the younger Reyes told his best friend with his signature, toothy grin. The best friend duo then grew silent for a few minutes as they both enjoyed the familiar atmosphere of Mama's Tacos and the soft music playing in the background before Ezekiel opened his mouth and curiously wondered and bit down on his bottom lip, "do you still talk with Emily?"

Victoria gave her best friend a sad smile at the question about his high school sweetheart before she shook her head and uttered, "we stopped talking about a couple of weeks into your sentence." The Miller woman shrugged her shoulders as she recalled what happened back then, "she showed up at the butcher shop one day in tears and said that she was going off to some Ivy League school and said that she was never coming back." Victoria took a sip of her cold water before she continued, "Em sends birthday and Christmas cards every year, though, so there's that. I also heard that she comes into town a couple days a month but I've never ran into her with how busy everything is around here these days."

Ezekiel's brows furrowed at the new information before he apologized, "I'm sorry that the shit that happened back then caused you to lose one of your closest friends, Vic." The younger Reyes instantly knew what day Victoria was talking about as it was the day that he told Emily that they were done - which obviously caused a strain in Emily and Victoria's friendship. That was the last thing Ezekiel wanted as he knew Emily and Victoria were always close during high school as it was Victoria who had introduced him to his high school sweetheart.

Victoria shook her head as she lightly waved her right hand in the air. "Don't worry about it," the Miller nurse assured her best friend, "it's just life. Some people come and go, no matter how close you were, and some people are stuck in your life." Victoria threw Ezekiel a smirk as she joked, "and I'm one of those stuck people in your live." The brunette nurse didn't blame Ezekiel at all like he was obviously doing. Emily Thomas was just someone she would say 'hey' to if they were walking down the street and saw each other instead of someone that Victoria would call to hang out and catch up on gossip. They just lost touch like many high school friends do.

The Miller woman let out a silent sigh as she watched as Ezekiel avoided looking into her hazel eyes and didn't laugh at her teasing. She knew he was lost in their past life, so she decided to get his mind off of his old high school sweetheart. "So Angel and Pop have been trying to teach this white girl Spanish while you've been gone," Victoria uttered with an easy smile shining on her pink lips. The brunette shook her head with a chuckle and muttered, "growing up in S'Padre for twenty-seven years and six years of private lessons from them and I still suck at it."

A toothy grin finally lifted onto Ezekiel's lips at his best friend's confession before he commanded in his native tongue, "escuchémoslo entonces." [Let's hear it then.] Ezekiel remembered all through junior high and high school that he used to try to help Victoria with her Spanish since she was always around his Spanish-speaking family but it would always end up with them just messing around like teenagers would. However, there was a few lessons when Victoria would come by and his mother, Marisol, would make the young girl speak short sentences while she helped make dinner as the older woman was always willing to help make Victoria feel more at home in their house when she would stay over while her own parents were gone.

"Deja de ser un gilipollas," [Stop being an asshole.] Victoria roughly uttered in Spanish with a wide smirk plastered across her face before she and Ezekiel busted out into a heavy laughter in the middle of Mama's Tacos at what she had said. "Pop taught me that one, so I could tell Angel off when he'd annoy me," the Miller woman explained the first sentence that she proudly showed her best friend - which happened to be quite vulgar.

Ezekiel rolled his brown eyes with a chuckle before he murmured, "of course Pop did." The younger Reyes knew he shouldn't be surprised that his father taught Victoria that statement. He and Angel never really had a close relationship to begin with along with the fact while they were growing up, Pop would always tell Victoria all these Spanish phrases to keep teenage boys away - sometimes phrases he wouldn't explain to the young girl to scare away the hormonal teenagers like Ezekiel would do for his best friend during high school as no one was good enough for her.

The Reyes man and the Miller woman both laughed together as they enjoyed each other's company for the first time in over eight years for a couple of minutes before Ezekiel opened his mouth to see what else his father and brother has been teaching his best friend. However, before the younger Reyes could ask, they were soon interrupted when his cell phone began to ring in the front right pocket of his jeans. Ezekiel gave his best friend a quick, apologetic smile as he pulled out his device before he looked down and noticed a text message. "It's Angel," the younger Reyes mumbled before he told Victoria, "they need me on a run."

Victoria instantly nodded her head in understanding as she was used to these random calls from the club whenever she would be around Angel. She has been dealing with it for the last six years while having fun with the older Reyes so Victoria is quite familiar with what needs to be done. "Where do you need me to drop you off at?" Victoria asked her best friend like she usually would with Angel if he rode with her as she stood up from the table and laid the payment for their meal plus an extra fifteen dollars for Mama Silvia - the owner of her childhood restaurant.  

Ezekiel tiredly and slowly stood up from the red cushioned seat of Mama's Tacos before he lifted his arms in the air and stretched out his long body. The younger Reyes was feeling a mixture of sleepiness and fullness from one of his favorite 'meals-away-from-home' for the first time in eight years. Once Ezekiel had shook the tiredness from his mind and body, he turned towards his awaiting best friend with his signature toothy grin and finally answered her question in a fake, stern voice, "the prospect is needed at the butcher shop."

Victoria rolled her hazel eyes at her best friend's voice that sounded like a drunk Angel before she waved goodbye to Mama Silvia and followed Ezekiel out of the small restaurant while they playfully shoved each other around with the familiar sounds of their laughter echoing out of Mama's Tacos like they used to when they were still in school. The two best friends then headed towards Victoria's red Hyundai Accent before they took the short drive back to Carniceria Reyes.

Once they were back in the same parking spot from an hour or so ago, the younger Reyes instantly jumped out of the car and jogged towards the back of the butcher shop. Ezekiel knew he needed to hurry since Angel wasn't here yet, so he quickly slipped on his Prospect kutte from the compartment on the right side of his motorcycle before he started up his aforementioned ride and slowly drove it back to the front street.

"Looking good, Reyes," the Miller woman exclaimed with a smirk as she watched her best friend drive his brand new ride by the door of Carniceria Reyes. Victoria then walked across the street once she locked her car to get a closer look at the motorcycle before she released a low whistle. "Softtail Deluxe with 22-inch ape hangers," the brunette nurse listed off as she gently ran her finger across the shiny black paint job before she looked up at Ezekiel with a nod of her head and exclaimed, "she's a beauty."

Ezekiel lifted up his right eyebrow in surprise at Victoria's description of his motorcycle that he barely knew anything about. There had never been a time when Ezekiel knew his best friend liked motorcycles, so this was definitely a shock to him. "You know your bikes?" The younger Reyes questioned as he held his Harley up with the left leg while he placed his leather gloves onto his hands at the exact same time as the older Reyes parked his motorcycle next to the other bike.

The newly arrived Angel Reyes took off his helmet and laid it onto his right handlebar and took off his sunglasses before stuck them into the pocket of his Mayans kutte. The older man shot the brunette woman a large smirk once he was comfortably sitting on his motorcycle before Angel answered his brother's question for Victoria, "of course she does." Angel then nodded his head towards the right before he murmured, "come here, princesa."

Victoria rolled her hazel eyes at the older Reyes brother with a soft chuckle before she turned her attention back onto Ezekiel and explained about her interest in motorcycles, "when Ange and I were first becoming closer, he would take me on rides so I learned quite a lot over the last six years and I just got into all the details after that." The Miller woman then walked over to the impatient Angel after she saw Ezekiel nod his head in understanding before she was instantly wrapped in Angel's arms once she was close enough to reach.

Angel smiled slightly when he heard the giggling come out of Victoria's mouth before he uttered as he rubbed his fingers along the brunette's back side that was covered by her light blue scrubs, "we gotta make a run over in Nevada but I'll call you when we get back." The older Reyes then pulled Victoria closer so she was pressed up against his chest and motorcycle before he uttered softly with a smirk shining across his lips, "maybe instead of drinks at the clubhouse, we can do something fun... alone."

Victoria instantly threw her head back and let out a heavy chuckle at the older Reyes brother's obvious command that usually met sex for them. The Miller woman then patted Angel's cheek with her own smirk on her face before she whispered as she teased Angel, "in your dreams, mi querido."

This was usually how their routine went. She or Angel, usually the later, would start the teasing about wanting to spend time with the other before they would end up in bed together. But every time wasn't the same as sometimes they would be out at a party and they would both want each other or sometimes it would just happen naturally like a normal couples relationship would. That is what usually confused people since they would have these moments of being a couple but the friends-turned-bed-buddies would just push that away. They love each other like best friends but they never went further than that. They just never needed to push it any further as they were happy just by being there for one another since neither of them were interested in other people and there was no competition of other people in the way.

Angel let out a deep, throaty laugh at the brunette woman's statement as he slowly ran his right hand up and down her back. "Tu español esta mejorando," [Your Spanish is getting better.] the older Reyes complimented with a cheeky grin before he lifted his hand up to Victoria's right cheek and pulled her into a needy kiss. Angel then pulled away from their embrace after a minute or two before he whispered against the nurse's soft lips, "we all know I'm already in your dreams, princesa."

Victoria instantly ducked her head into the chuckling Angel's chest as she felt the redness reach her cheeks from his teasing like she usually did. It didn't matter that they had been fooling around with each other for the past six years, Victoria always felt this thrill in her chest when she would hear Angel's deep, bed voice. Finally, after about two minutes of standing there, Victoria felt the redness go away from her face so she lifted up her head and looked at the older Reyes with a small smirk. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ange," the Miller woman exclaimed as she shot back her own teasing.

"Oh, Dios mío," [Oh, my God.] Ezekiel groaned as he threw his head back in annoyance at watching his best friend and brother flirt with each other. "Can we go already?" The younger Reyes grumbled under his breath as he couldn't stand to watch this any longer. Ezekiel didn't even like this relationship or friends-with-benefit thing that they have going on, so seeing it play out in front of him was the last thing in the world Ezekiel wanted to do right now.

"Paciencia, hermanito," [Patience, little brother.] Angel told the younger Reyes with a deep chuckle before he placed his matte black helmet back onto his head and buckled it tightly against his chin. He then turned his attention back onto the woman in front of him and lightly placed his gloved hand on her right cheek. "If you get into any trouble while we are gone, call Pop or call the clubhouse, alright?" Angel ordered as he stared into Victoria's hazel eyes with seriousness in his brown ones. He may not be in a real relationship with Victoria, but Angel had promised himself a long time ago that he was going to make sure that Victoria would always be protected and that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Victoria held in her eye roll that she wanted to do at the worried Reyes as she knew that this is Angel's usual routine when he goes off on a run for the club. Instead, she nodded her head and murmured, "I'll be fine." Victoria then slowly and silently raised her hand to the back of Angel's kutte, where she knew his gun was resting, before she assured him, "I have mine if I need the protection."

Angel had given her the weapon the same day that Bishop had called her into the clubhouse after she patched up Coco and Angel had also taught her how to keep herself safe since she was going to be involved with the club. Victoria understood why Angel wanted her to have the gun since being around the club is dangerous, so she didn't really have a problem with having the weapon on her. It was just added protection for her when Angel wasn't around.

However, there was someone that didn't agree with Angel's form of protection for the Miller woman as the younger Reyes brother growled as he glared over at the person that caused his anger, "what the hell, Angel? You gave my best friend a gun!" Ezekiel couldn't believe that his brother actually gave Victoria a weapon. She couldn't possibly know what to do with it, Ezekiel thought as his best friend was never involved in that shit while growing up. She always stayed focused on school and volunteering instead getting messed up with all the gangs, drugs, and guns when they were teenagers.

Angel rolled his brown eyes at his brother before he easily told him, "relájate, hermanito." [Relax, little brother.] The older Reyes threw his arm protectively around Victoria's waist before he explained to Ezekiel, "you've been gone a long time, EZ. She's not the same little girl that you grew up with anymore. Besides, I needed to keep her safe from all of our enemies and this is how I decided to get shit done during the off chances that I'm not around to keep her safe." The older Reyes then pulled the aforementioned woman into a passionate goodbye kiss before he told his brother in an emotionless voice, "now let's go, prospect."

Victoria couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh at the obvious tension between the two brothers. She knew it would be coming with the different ways that Ezekiel and Angel both chose to protect her and the two different relationships that she has with them. However, Victoria knew it wasn't the time for this talk when they were about to go on a run with each other and they definitely didn't need anymore issues, so the brunette woman rubbed her hand across Angel's leather kutte covered heart and ordered softly, "be careful and take care of EZ."

Angel gave Victoria a cheeky grin as he focused his dark eyes solely onto her hazel ones before he murmured in his deep, sensual voice, "sí, señora." The Reyes brothers both then started up their motorcycles and gave one of the most important woman in their lives a small nod before they took off down the street of Santo Padre to meet the rest of the MC at their check-in spot so they could head to Nevada for their run.

The Miller woman silently watched as her best friend and her Angel drove off until she couldn't see them anymore before Victoria released another heavy sigh at the long day that had all transpired in the last couple of hours. Victoria knew now that Ezekiel is back in Santo Padre that everything is going to get more difficult - especially her relationship with the older Reyes. She knew Ezekiel was going to have something to say about it unlike everyone else, who had just grown to understand the relationship between the two adults. Victoria and Angel just had that easy going friendship that sprung to life after all of the shit hit the fan in their lives. Sure, them sleeping with each other was from a night of sadness but they still loved and cared for one another like two close friends and sometimes even lovers should. It was just how it went after sleeping with each other for seven years. There had to be feelings but Victoria and Angel just never brought them up. There was no need to when there was no man or woman in each other's lives that would cause things to get complicated and that's the way that Victoria and Angel liked it.

The other issue that Victoria is concerned about is the fact that her best friend is prospecting with the Mayans. Victoria trusts the motorcycle club with her life but it just made her worry about Ezekiel since he never wanted anything apart of that life like Angel always did while they were growing up. Ezekiel always wanted a future away from Santo Padre, so it was still a little hard for Victoria to wrap her mind around the fact that her best friend wants to join the Mayans. It is just so unlike Ezekiel to want to stay here and join the MC, but Victoria knew she had to remember that it's been eight years and people change. She surely did from the young girl who always dreamed of living in New York with a loving husband and a couple of kids of her own. She instead lives in the same town that ruined her parents with drugs and stripping and is in a sort-of-relationship with a guy that she used to couldn't stand as a teenager while helping out the local motorcycle club.

"Ugh, I need a drink," Victoria grumbled to herself once she jumped out her thoughts when she heard the sound of someone honking their horn as she still stood in front of the same spot that the Reyes brothers left her in. The Miller woman ran her fingers through her messy bun with a heavy sigh before she finally turned around to head into Carniceria Reyes, so she could help Pop close up shop for the day. Hopefully Pop has some beer, Victoria thought as she was definitely going to need something to help calm her nerves from Ezekiel's first run and this splitting headache that she had recently been sporting from the long day in Santo Padre, California where nothing is ever as normal as it seems.

[superiordragonlorde]

13 Days of Halloween

Challenge | Day 8- Apple Cider & Cuddles / “Pfft, I’m not scared.”

Category | Writing/Story

Still cranking them out for @bnhalloween-challenge .  Woohoo!

And now we’re getting some Kirideku! Yay extreme pure ship!!

No warnings (I don’t think...)

I hope you all enjoy!

     Kirishima rested his head atop Midoriya’s, letting the soft curls tickle his nose. He watched the movie playing on his laptop with vague interest, enjoying the solid, warm body pressed against his and wrapped in his arms. Midoriya, on the other hand, was watching the screen with wide eyes, the blanket they had laid over them clutched in his hands, the fabric twisting in his grip.

     The movie’s monster jumped out towards the screen from behind a group of trees. Midoriya jumped, a strangled noise escaping from him. Kirishima laughed, having already seen the movie at least thirty times in his life, and pulled him closer, pressing his cheek with Midoriya’s freckled one.

     “Aw, no worries, babe,” he chuckled. “You don’t have to be scared. I’d protect you from any freaky pop-out monsters.” Midoriya groaned playfully, shoving Kirishima’s face away with a gentle hand.

     “Pfft, I’m not scared,” he insisted, casting a mockingly offended look at the red-haired teen. “It just... surprised me, that’s all.” Kirishima grinned, nodding.

     “Sure, sure,” he hummed. “Whatever you say.” He rested his chin on Midoriya’s shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against Midoriya’s face again, who huffed but still pressed his back further into Kirishima’s chest. Kirishima kissed his cheek, soaking in the tantalizing heat.

     One of the characters in the movie was grabbed by a monster, long, jointed fingers wrapping around their neck, before being dragged away into the darkness of the forest. Midoriya shot forward, ripping Kirishima’s headrest away, a whimper cutting off at his throat.

     “Woah, hey, Midoriya?” There was no reaction. “Are you ok? What’s going on?” He leaned forward, pausing the movie, and tried to catch a glimpse of Midoriya’s face. His eyes were distant like he was seeing something beyond the laptop’s screen. Anguish seeped from every part of him. His mouth was held open in a silent cry, hot air rushing out between his soft pants. His brows were peaked and furrowed. Kirishima rested a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles.

     “It’s ok,” he soothed, placing a steadying hand on Midoriya’s chest. A thrumming heartbeat hammered under his fingertips and palm. Midoriya swallowed. He blinked, the distance fading each time his eyes closed.

     “Hey.” Midoriya turned his head, meeting Kirishima’s gaze. The terror and pain remained, stuck in the depths of his eyes and the turned down corners of his mouth. Kirishima frowned, hoping to convey concern and comfort. “Are you ok?”

     Midoriya’s eyes flicked between his, a thousand different things running through them. He turned away, forcing his lips to curve upwards.

     “Yeah,” he replied, shaky. “I’m ok. I-uh- I just- Sorry about that.” He chuckled, the sound forced and closed off. His lips trembled and the smile cracked. Kirishima’s frown deepened.

     “What happened?”

     “Nothing!” The answer came too quick and prepared. “Nothing happened, I just got too caught up in it, that’s all.” He tried a laugh, but it sounded more like a desperate cough: rough, grating, and distressing. Kirishima pursed his lips, thinking.

     “We should probably take a break then,” he decided, closing the laptop. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.” He clambered off the bed, extending a hand to help Midoriya up. Their hands remained clasped around each other.

     Walking down the empty halls to the kitchen, Kirishima caught Midoriya looking at Bakugo’s door. His gaze lingered on it for a second too long, a flash of fear in his look that was swallowed by something else that Kirishima couldn’t describe.

     In the kitchen, Kirishima had Midoriya sit down at the table as he rummaged around, finding the ingredients and appliances he wanted. About twenty minutes later, he grabbed two cups, pouring the clear burnt orange liquid he’d created into each of them. Walking back to the table, he handed Midoriya one of the steaming cups and sat next to him, cupping his own in his hands. Midoriya looked down at the cup’s contents, brows furrowed.

     “This doesn’t smell like tea...” he mumbled, whether, at himself or him, Kirishima wasn’t sure. He shrugged, choosing to answer anyway.

     “It’s not tea. It’s apple cider. My mom taught me how to make it.” He sipped the hot beverage, letting the flavor coat his tongue. Midoriya nodded and followed his lead without hesitation. He pulled the cup away, licking his lips.

     “What do you think?” Kirishima inquired, hiding a grin behind his cup as he took another sip. Midoriya bobbed his head, staring at the hot liquid again.

     “It’s a lot like tea,” he started, slow. “I’ve just never had... apple tea.” Kirishima snorted, cider almost spraying from his nose. He laughed, hand covering his mouth to try and muffle the noise. If they roused any of the others, they’d never hear the end of it.

     Midoriya watched him with an amused, yet confused expression, enjoying Kirishima’s joy but not fully understanding what brought it on.

     Kirishima sighed, straightening up from his hunched over position, an extra precaution to keeping the laughter as quiet as possible. He shook his head, still chuckling.

     “I hope you don’t mind me using the phrase ‘apple tea’ from now on.” Midoriya smiled, taking another sip.

     “Not at all. Have at it.” The two boys fell into a soft silence, the looming subject being artfully ignored by one, and analyzed by another.

     “So,” Kirishima sighed, believing it best to be blunt. “Do you want to talk about what happened during the movie?” He watched Midoriya’s reaction. The freckled teen slumped a little in his chair, somehow effectively hiding his face with a small, porcelain cup.

     “It’s nothing,” Midoriya mumbled, taking a distracting slurp.

     “You looked like you were on the verge of some kind of panic attack,” Kirishima pressed on. “That couldn’t have been nothing.”

     “It’s stupid,” Midoriya supplied instead.

     “Anything that freaks you out that much is never stupid.” Kirishima leaned down, trying to catch a glimpse of those downturned green eyes. “You know I’d never make fun of you, right?” Midoriya’s shoulders hunched past his ears as his fingers fiddled with the cup’s handle. With a weary sigh, he dropped his shoulders and placed the cup down onto the table.

     “It’s stupid, but when that guy was dragged into the forest by that monster, it just- it looked a lot like how the villains took Kacchan.” Midoriya refused to meet Kirishima’s gaze, his fingers tapping against the cup’s surface.

     Kirishima bit his lip, guilt sticking to the inside of his gut like caramel in a hot car. He scooted his chair closer until their knees were knocking together. He wrapped a hand around Midoriya’s wrist, pulling it away from the cup with gentle fingers. He slipped his hand up until it intertwined with Midoriya’s.

     “That’s not stupid, Izuku,” he whispered, thumb trailing along one of the scars. “That stuff sticks with you forever. I felt shitty when that happened. I can’t imagine what it felt like for you, seeing it all in person.” He paused, searching for his next words carefully. “But-”

     “I failed him.” Kirishima flinched at the words that spilled from Midoriya’s mouth. “I was so close to reaching him, and I was too late. We were lucky. The villains didn’t interrogate him or hurt him. He was safe when we found him because they wanted him safe. What if, next time, they capture someone else? And then they interrogate or hurt them. What if they kill them? And I just watched them get taken away? Because I was too weak to stop it? Because I couldn’t get to them in time? We were lucky that time, but what about next time? What if I fail them again? What if-”

     “Hey!” Kirishima cut through his rambling, grabbing his face in his hands and turning him to look straight into his eyes. He poured every ounce of love, pain, and distress into his gaze, hoping that could drive home what he was about to say. “Don’t think like that. Ever! You didn’t fail Bakugo. Or anyone else. Yeah, we were lucky, but now we all know better. We know that villains can come at us at any moment, so we’re always prepared. And we all know what we signed up for: to be heroes. We all came to this school knowing that this wasn’t going to be a safe job. And you can’t keep worrying about the future, ‘cause that’s only going to freeze you up in the now. All we can do is prepare for the future. That’s the best we can do, as people and heroes. Besides, what’s important right now is that we got Bakugo back, and everyone’s safe.” He stroked his thumbs over Midoriya’s cheeks, brushing away tears that had started to fall. “We’re ok, thanks to you and your awesome plans.” He kissed his cheek, earning a stuttering laugh. “Your big, awesome brain-” He kissed his other cheek. “And your totally amazing quirk-” He kissed his forehead. “And your manly personality-” He leaned far enough back to see Midoriya’s entire, glowing face. He grinned, feeling something light flutter around in his chest.

     “All of that is going to save the world one day.” He kissed Midoriya’s lips, absorbing their softer texture compared to his rougher ones. He pulled away, letting their lips brush against one another. “And we’re going to kick villain ass,” he promised, grinning, sharp teeth on full display. Midoriya laughed, reaching out for another peck, the laughter bubbling on his lips. Kirishima’s grin widened and softened, relieved to see the dusting of blush from laughing. He rested his forehead against Midoriya’s, memorizing every freckle, laugh-line, and sparkle in his eyes and smile. Midoriya brushed his nose with Kirishima’s, his laughter dying down to quiet chuckles.

     “So,” Kirishima drawled, arching an eyebrow as overly seductive as he could. “I got It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown saved on my laptop too. Want to watch that instead?” Midoriya’s laughter started up anew, breaking Kirishima’s seductive facade with a wide grin.

     “Yes!” Midoriya cheered quietly, standing up and dragging Kirishima back to the room. Kirishima followed, trying not to trip as they hushed each other’s laughs, completely forgetting about the dishes they’d left behind. Hopefully, their classmates would show a little mercy and kindness tomorrow.

Another down, five more to go!

I hope you all enjoyed this. Thanks for reading!

<Day 7  Day 9>