#but they’re kids you know? Underneath it all they’re desperately sincere and so I have to be gentle with them

[itspileofgoodthings]

I love that my favorite me and a student exchange of all time (“Miss K. I can read you like a book” “but I’ve seen how you read a book”) has gone down in (minor) Maria lore because it’s one of those things that’s so cinematic in storytelling and in real life I just kind of mumbled it while putting something away on a bookshelf

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

-

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.

[thran-duils]

Use All Of Me (P.3)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Three) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,382 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Notes: This relationship is going to go ~downhill~ from healthy really quick. Please do not read if that is going to offend you.

If anyone is interested in a playlist I am using for this while I write...

Part Two || Part Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Sweating, you brushed the sweat from your brow. Even though you had changed out of your original dress and swapped it for shorts and a tank, you were still hot. The club was packed considering it was a live music night, with Every Time I Die headlining in their home state. Thankfully the show had not been sold out entirely when you had shown up. You doubted it had stayed that way since the main set had started and it was after 10pm.

Keith yelled into the mic, encouraging people to come up on stage with them for the next song.

The shape of your data got me astral projecting But I think you and I, we need to talk

The room was alive, people crowding the stage as people began to find their way up there, headbanging around the artists before diving off the stage to welcome arms.

“I wanna do that!” you yelled over the music to Yua. The pair of you were further into the crowd than Natalie and your other couple friends. You were sure they were still standing by one of the tables up the stairs.

“Are you serious, Y/N?” she laughed, looking jubilant.

“You should!” the guy, Joseph, that had attached himself to yours and Yua’s side during the show encouraged you. He was cute enough, was not handsy – a huge plus especially in a huge crowd where people had been drinking or doing drugs.

You teased, “You just want to be one of the people holding us.”

He let out a laugh and said over the music, “If you think so lowly of me, maybe I need to prove myself a little harder!”

Yes, he certainly was cute. You beamed at him. Maybe you would not end up alone tonight.

“Here! Let’s go up!” Yua said, tugging on your arm. “Just make sure you don’t get punched in the face if you get too close to the mosh pit.”

The two of you shoved your way through the crowd towards the stage.

<> <> <>

Natalie craned her neck to look over the crowd to where Yua and Y/N had been. They were no longer there and she sighed. She hoped they were not getting themselves into trouble, mainly the mosh pit. Yua and Y/N both had suffered bruises before and still went back. They insisted it was fun; she saw nothing fun about it, she rather enjoyed watching the show from afar where she could enjoy it in more relative peace.

“What’s wrong?” Ada asked her over the music.

“I can’t find Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.”

Miriam asked what she said from across the table and Natalie repeated herself.

“They’re fine. They can handle themselves,” Miriam reassured her. “We’ve been in worse places with a far rougher crowd and they’ve managed.”

“Too true,” Natalie agreed.

Over the heads of the crowd, Natalie’s eyes came to rest on a familiar face. Her stomach dropped seeing Steve, who looked entirely displeased. He was searching the crowd and she had a great idea of who he was looking for.

“Shit,” she said out loud. She looked back over the crowd desperately. It was not going to look good if Y/N was still flirting with that other random guy. She was worried for that potential mess with someone like Steve.

“What?” Ada asked confused, following her line of sight. She of course did not recognize what Natalie did because she did not know who Steve was yet.

Leaning in closer to the pair, she explained, “Y/N’s date from tonight, yeah? The one that stood her up? He’s here.”

“What?” Miriam gasped, standing up trying to figure out who it was in the general direction Natalie had been looking.

“Found ‘em,” Ada feebly said, pointing out across the crowd towards the stage.

Natalie and Miriam looked to the stage and Natalie wanted to scream in frustration. Both Yua and Y/N were on the stage, dancing close to the edge of the stage. Y/N dove off the stage into the crowd, Natalie tracking the spot where she had fallen onto. Her stomach flipped seeing Steve was already on his way, the crowd easily parting for someone his size. She would not make it to Y/N before he did.

She just had to let that unfold, feeling a rock sinking in her stomach.

<> <> <>

A group of people helped you slide to the ground so you could land on your feet, even if you were a little unsteady.

Joseph was there. He held up his hands and said, “No touchy. I was just here to make sure you got down okay.”

“How gentlemen like of you!” you smiled at him, tapping him on the nose.

You let out a laugh and turned back towards the stage. You could not spot Yua, you thought she would jump in the same direction as you. You stood on your tiptoes still to no avail.

Suddenly you saw her and you moved to where she was, greeting her as she came down.

“See, I told you it would be fun!” you yelled to her and she nodded in agreement. She had a wide smile planted on her face as she tried to fix her hair. You slid off an extra hair tie and handed it to her as the song ended. “Let’s go back to the table! I want another drink!”

Turning to Joseph, you grabbed his arm. “You can come with us! It’s on me!”

He looked pleased, nodding. “Alright, cool.”

His arm intertwined with yours in turn to your grasp and the two of you turned. But just like that, your smile melted away.

Steve was there blocking your way, a vexed look painted on his face. His gaze dropped down to where you and Joseph’s arms were interlinked; you could see his jaw clench at the sight.

“Steve,” you said breathlessly. “What… what are you doing here?”

Joseph seemed to catch the situation and dropped your arm, uncomfortably taking a step back. Yua came to his side instead of you. He was staring at Steve in awe, no doubt recognizing him.

“Come on,” Steve ordered you sternly, grabbing your hand and beginning to lead you through the crowd away from the stage without waiting for you to respond. You shot a look over your shoulder at Yua, seeing the worried expression on her face. Joseph leaned in to speak to her and you were sure he was asking what was going on.

He did not stop until the two of you were outside, you struggling to keep up with his stride, even with people around. They seemed to move out of his way, which did not help slow down his pace.

“Steve?” you tried as the two of you began walking down the sidewalk past the crowd outside.

He ignored you.

Away from the line, halfway down the block, he came to a sudden stop and let go of your hand roughly.

“That was foolish, Y/N.”

He was scolding you? He was the one that had stood you up.

Defensively, you told him, “It was just a bit of fun. I’m not hurt.”

“You could have been. And who was the kid?”

Kid? Joseph was most certainly in his late twenties, early thirties. Although, you were sure with how old Steve was, anyone could seem like a kid.

“Just some guy that was in the crowd,” you shrugged, trying to play it off. “He made friends with us. We were about to go have some more drinks with him. He’s cool.”

“’Cool’,” Steve drawled. You nodded, not knowing what he wanted you to say. “Looked like you were getting quite close. Like it might lead to going home.”

Cocking your head, you challenged, “You don’t get to scold me because I was hanging out with him. You’re the one who ditched me.”

Steve’s tone was laced with annoyance, “I tried to call you. Multiple times. And you didn’t answer me.”

“My phone is in my purse.”

“Well, if you would have had it on you, you would have seen that.”

Frustrated, you exasperated, “You didn’t show up!”

“I know! And I’m sorry about that. I got caught up in work.”

“And you couldn’t even send me a text?”

“There was no service.”

You scoffed and Steve’s jaw tightened. “What? That’s such a bullshit excuse. Where is there not service in NYC?”

“Underground,” Steve told you as a matter of fact.

Oh.

You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing underground but he anticipated it, “I can’t talk to you about that. You know that or you should.” You closed your mouth. He took a step closer, peering down his nose at you, a dangerous glint in his eye. “So, let me ask you again… were you planning on going home with him? If it came to that?”

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence, you knowing he knew the answer already, but he wanted you to say it out loud.

Shrugging, you said, “Yeah, sure.” Steve gave a dry laugh and you told him firmly, “I thought you were done with me. So, excuse me.”

“Yes, excuse you. What the hell were you thinking? It was the same damn night you had a date with me, Y/N!” Steve snapped.

You recoiled a bit and he sighed loudly, putting his hands on his hips. He closed his eyes, swallowing sharply, taking a few moments. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just worried about you and I’m a little high strung.”

“Worried about me?” you asked disbelieving.

“Yeah, I drove by your place and it was dark. Seemed a little odd it being so early. And with you not answering your phone… So, I checked your location to see where you were. I did not know what this place was, so I came down here to check it out. To make sure nothing had happened to you. And if you were alright, I just wanted to tell you face to face that I was sorry for not being able to get a hold of you to let you know I was going to be late. I owe you that much for missing our date. I was looking forward to it.”

He sounded sincere and the anger melted a bit at his words. He was waiting for you to say something.

“So,” you started, licking your lip. The tension was waning on you and you wanted to move on from it, salvage what you could. A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Can I call you my boyfriend now? Since you’re so worried about me and all?”

Steve visibly relaxed, the tension leaving his jaw.

“Look, I’ll keep it in mind in the future you might be on some secret mission,” you told him, closing the space between the two of you, Your hand rested on his chest, playing with the edge of his leather jacket. “And I’ll keep my legs closed until I know for sure otherwise.”

“That’s a crude way to put it,” Steve responded.

“Fine. I’ll stay at home, waiting by the window, pining for you to return. Is that better?”

This drew a small smile out of him at least. He reached up to hold the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I quite like the idea of you pining. It paints such a pretty picture.”

“Of course you do. It’s an ego booster.” You tossed a look over your shoulder and if you were not mistaken, Steve’s grip on your neck tightened ever so slightly. “The bouncer should let us back in.”

Steve forced you to look back at him. “Not my scene.”

“Is it classical then?”

“I do enjoy that, but it’s not just that.”

Suddenly curious, you asked, “How did you get in anyway? I thought it would have been sold out.”

“It was. I spoke to the bouncer.”

“So, he’s a Captain America fan, then?”

“Something like that.”

There was something hanging in the air with that statement, but something deep down told you to leave it alone.

“Regardless, I do need to get my purse…”

“Right,” Steve said, his hand dropping to come to hold you around your waist, turning you around to walk back down the sidewalk to the door. When you got there, the bouncer saw it was Steve and nodded him through.

Instead of letting you go in alone, Steve went with you. He stood a few paces away as you grabbed your purse, assuring your friends that you were alright. You let them know you were going home with Steve and to not wait up for you. When you got back to his side, he leaned down, giving you a kiss on your forehead. His hand gripped your wrist, leading you back outside, leaving your friends behind.

<> <> <>

Steve’s house was enormous compared to your apartment. He had insisted you go home with him, promising you breakfast in bed. How could you say no to that?

You had been enthralled with the pool room – after you insisted he show you around the place. Steve had not been deterred when you suggested skinny dipping, ushering you along out of the room to continue the tour. When he brushed behind you in the process of doing this, you already could feel him through his slacks. No wonder he had been in such a hurry.

Steve moaned beneath you, his eyes hooded with lust as he watched you towering over him as you rode him. His hands gripped your ass, helping to guide you with more force. Panting loudly, your fingers dug into his chest. Steve lifted his head up to suck and bite at your breasts, adding to your sensation. Your lips crashed into his desperately as you felt the peak quickly incoming.

You cried out against his lips, convulsing around him.

“That’s it,” Steve rasped out in praise.

He increased his speed, pushing himself over the edge. You felt him empty himself as he gasped out broken praises for you and you alone.

Tucked into his embrace, your back to him, you relaxed.

As you slipped off to sleep, you felt Steve’s arm wrap around you, his hand caressing your abdomen.

~~~

Tags: @imsonick, @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅱ Vol.6 Yuma VS Azusa [TRACK 2]

Original title: 欠ける月を見ながら

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS II Vol. 6 Yuma VS Azusa [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Tatsuhisa Suzuki & Kishio Daisuke

Translator’s note: I have no words. I swear the last few minutes of this track are just Rejet having way too much fun. You cannot convince me that they wrote that without knowing that it could EASILY be taken the wrong way. I mean, the whole situation isn’t exactly ‘innocent’ either way but it sounds even more dirty than it is. I’m not gonna try and hide either ーー my mind went straight to the gutter as soon as Yuma suggested she uses her hands instead of her mouth. If you’re curious what I’m talking about, you’ll have to read the translation. ;)

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 ll Track 6

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 2: While Gazing at the Chipped Moon

Yuma: For a basement, it’s brighter in here than I thought. Is there a window on the ceiling or somethin’? 

You follow suit.

Yuma: Ah? What’s wrong? ...Ahー Ya pissin’ yer pants? ...I don’t mind. Come here.

Yuma hugs you close.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Just stay close to me, ‘kay? ...Take a look! Right above ya! There’s a big hole to look through! ...Aah, seems like this basement is right underneath the garden. 

You look up.

Yuma: They’re a bunch of dried up branches layin’ ‘round the edges of the garden. I had no idea this kinda room was underneath it. I’m surprised. 

*Rustle*

Yuma: ...Well, I guess it helps brighten up this place a lil’ without any lights ‘round, so I don’t see a problem with it. 

Something catches his attention.

Yuma: ...Oh? 

You ask what is wrong.

Yuma: No, it’s just...Ya can see the moon through that hole, right? Take a closer look. It’s slowly bein’ chipped away at. ...What was it called again? A lunar eclipse? Ya don’t see that every day. It’s my first time seein’ one.

You agree.

Yuma: You too? Hm...I see. Well, I guess we got lucky. It’s a rare sight after all. Too bad it’s from inside this creepy room.

You tilt your head to the side.

Yuma: This room just screams ‘creepy’, no? Ya still haven’t noticed? What kind of room this is, I mean. Take a good look around.

You look around.

Yuma: There’s a bunch of strange devices, right? Ya better don’t try and act like ya don’t know what these are. 

You reluctantly answer.

Yuma: Exactly...Hehehe...Seems like this was the pentalty room. In other words, the items lined up here and there are what you’d call torture devices

*Cling cling*

Yuma: Take a look at these handcuffs. It’s still got blood on there. Means these bad boys got used at some point. Seems like the previous owner of this manor was a shitbag who loved pickin’ on the weak. 

*Cling*

Yuma: There’s freaks like that crawlin’ ‘round the surface of this earth, ya see...They either get a kick out of tormentin’ others, or enjoy gettin’ teased themselves. ...Ah, right. Ya love that sorta stuff as well, no? Hehehe...

You quickly deny.

*Cling cling*

Yuma: Now that we discovered this hidden gem, it’d be a shame not to use the room to its fullest potential, right? ーー To start things off. 

*Cling*

Yuma: I’ll put these handcuffs on ya like this. Hehe...

You protest.

Yuma: How does it feel to get robbed of yer freedom?

You beg him to take them off again. 

Yuma: Ah...Lemme think. If ya want me to remove them that badly, don’t ya think ya should adjust yer attitude a lil’? 

*Rustle rustle*

Yuma: Come on...Tell me what to do. Woah there, don’t look away. I’ve taken away yer freedom, so ya better keep yer eyes on me. 

*Rustle*

Yuma: Exactly. Hehe...Nice expression. Bet ya didn’t think I’d do this, right? ...For some reason, I’m in a weird mood right now. Could that moon be to blame? I feel restless...in a different way from usual. I don’t really get it, but it has taken control over me, and I can’t help but have this strong cravin’ for...you. Mmh...”

Yuma kisses you passionately.

Yuma: I want to make you cry, make you submit to me...and have you admit the most obscene things. Mmh...

*Smooch*

Yuma: Hm? ...Hah. Judgin’ by yer face, ya just felt yer heart skip a beat, didn’t ya? Bet ya don’t find this all too bad, huh? Fine by me. I’ll do as ya wish. Come on, brace yerself. 

*Rustle*

Yuma: What do ya want? Should I just leave some kisses here and there? Like this...Mmh...

*Smooch*

You flinch.

Yuma: Or do ya prefer the pain? Ya want these fangs, don’t ya? Haha...Don’t try and hide it. I know that you’re yearnin’ for them. However, I won’t give them to ya ーー not this easily at least. That’d be borin’ as hell, right? We’ve got this convenient room to our disposal after all...

*Cling cling*

Yuma: Makes ya wanna try and push yer boundaries a lil’, no? Hehe...Let’s leave the main course for last and enjoy some stuff we usually never get to do. Nn...

*Rustle*

Yuma: This is a whip, right? No doubt in mind that guy used this to torment those poor little lambs. ...Didn’t I tell ya earlier, there’s people who need that sorta kick. Perhaps I’m one of them as well? When I picture your expression as you fight back the pain...It sends shivers down my spine.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Ahn? I’m not actin’ like myself? Ya think so? Hah. Then this room and the moon might be messin’ with my head. I shouldn’t be interested in lil’ games enjoyed by those disgustin’ noblemen. If anythin’, they used to make me gag...So I wonder why I’m havin’ so much fun right now? ...Could this be my true colors showin’...?

*SMACK*

Yuma: Heh. This bad boy makes quite the sound. ...Wait, what am I doin’? ...Aah, my bad. I felt a lil’ dizzy just now...There really is somethin’ wrong with me, huh? Ugh...

*Rustle*

Yuma: I...

You seem worried. 

Yuma: Hah. ...Haha. Just kidding~ 

You get upset.

Yuma: Ah? I was jokin’ just now. I wanted to see what kind of face you’d make, and just couldn’t help myself.

You protest.

Yuma: It looked convincin’? Don’t be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. I’m not the type of dude who would torment the weak, geez. Ya can’t even tell the difference between the truth and an act? Ya really are an idiot.

*Cling cling*

Yuma: There we go...Oi, lift yer hands a lil’ higher. I’m gonna remove the handcuffs.

You obey.

Yuma: Ahー The hole’s over here, right? ...’Kay. ...Huh?

*Cling cling*

Yuma: Ahn? ...That’s odd...I’m pretty sure this key...Ugh...Ah!

*Clunk*

Yuma: Ah...Fuck! It broke!

You make a fuss.

Yuma: Ah, hold on! Do ya really need to get that upset!? ...Hey! Don’t hit me!

*Thud thud*

Yuma: ...Calm down!! I can just chop off yer wrists and problem solvーー

You continue protesting.

 Yuma: ...I’m just kiddin’! Geez...I’m sure we’ll find a solution if we head upstairs. ...God, yer wrists are bleedin’. It’s ‘cause ya kept on movin’ ‘round. Does it hurt?

You nod.

Yuma: Guess I have no other choice. I’ll apply first aid.

Yuma licks the wound.

Yuma: There. Lil’ better now? ...Let’s say we’re even now, ‘kay?

You puff out your cheeks.

Yuma: Don’t hold it ‘gainst me. I was just curious how it’d feel to step out of my comfort zone for once. Don’t ya ever get that itch to try somethin’ new as well? ...More importantly, drinkin’ yer blood made me thirsty.

*Sluuuurp*

Yuma: After all, you’re like a delicious treat. Just a lil’ taste isn’t enough to satisfy us. ...Ah, yer blood really is nice. ...Say? Won’t ya let me feed off ya now that you’re stuck like this anyway? Ya don’t mind, do ya?

You hesitate. 

Yuma:  Ahー What a pain.I’ll take that silence as a yes. I’m not the most patient fella ‘round.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Now behave. I won’t hurt ya. 

Yuma bites you.

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Mmh...Delicious...I can’t stop...

*Rustle*

Yuma: ...Gimme more...I’ll suck from this hand next. Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Mmh...Nn...

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: ...Haahー This is bad...I really went to town on ya, huh...Did it hurt? Or maybe it feels good? 

You whimper softly.

Yuma: Hehe...I wonder if it’s ‘cause ya had yer blood sucked while being handcuffed, but ya look as if ya enjoyed it way more than usual.

You seem embarrassed.

Yuma: No need to be ashamed. ...It’s too late for that. I’ve been showin’ ya my pathetic side as well, no? When I see yer blood...or get a wiff of it...I get so turned on, I lose sight of myself. However...

*Rustle*

Yuma: That blood of yers...

He sniffs it.

Yuma: Hmmー How strange, it doesn’t smell as strong as usually...Now that ya mention it, I feel as if it tastes different as well? The fuck’s goin’ on? ...Oi, Sow. Stop spacin’ out and look at me, come on!

He forces your face his way.

Yuma: ...Do ya notice anythin’ off ‘bout me?

You shake your head.

Yuma: Right? But ya know, something’s not right. ...Oi, inspect my body. I’m sure there’s somethin’ wrong with it.

You seem baffled.

Yuma: This time I’m serious. I’m not just teasin’ ya. Come on, hurry up.

You protest.

Yuma: Ahn? Ya can’t use yer hands? ...Well, I guess that’s true. But even without yer hands, you’ve got somethin’ else that’ll work just fine as a replacement, right?

You tilt your head to the side.

Yuma: Whatcha so confused ‘bout? I’m obviously talkin’ ‘bout that mouth of yers.

You seem surprised.

Yuma: Check my body thoroughly with those lips. ーー Oh come on, didn’t I tell you just now? I’m bein’ serious. 100% sincere. So, where ya wanna start? With my neck, perhaps?

*Rustle*

Yuma: Yeah, just start from there and take it nice and slow...What’s wrong? Are ya holdin’ back? ...Ya can be a little more rough, ya know?

*Rustle rustle*

Yuma: Ah...Your lips are so soft...Nn...It’s almost like someone is trailing a feather across a skin...Ah...

You sigh.

Yuma: Hah? Ya won’t be able to tell this way? You’re always so quick to decide without givin’ it a try, huh? How dull. Come on, get on with it already.

*Cling*

Yuma: Nn...Yeah, just like that...See? Ya can do it after all...Or are ya growin’ desperate now? Hahaha...Ya suddenly...picked up the pace...Nn...It tickles. Is this you’re way of takin’ revenge? ...Oh well, whatever.

You continue trailing your lips across his skin.

Yuma: Yeah, just keep goin’ like that...Nn...Carefully slide your lips across...Hah...Nn...Feels good...

*Rustle*

You ask if he’s doing this to tease you again.

Yuma: Hahaha...Guess I’m busted, huh?

*SMACK*

Yuma: ...Ow!! Did ya really need to hit me!? I was just havin’ some fun! For one, we wouldn’t need doctors if we could simply find out what’s wrong with someone’s body this way.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[demoneyesanddamagedsouls]

Oh Never Leave Me

A/N: A sweet drabble for a soft sincere Din Djarin. Written for the lovely people of Pascal Rascals (and the fic club 😽) I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Mando x Gender Neutral!Reader (This is my first time writing gender neutral reader so please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes!)

Warnings: None just lots and lots of fluff SORRY

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It had been a long week, out hunting a particularly elusive bounty and Din was exhausted. He was finally back at the RazorCrest with the bounty in tow, anxious to see you and the kid, it had been too long without your touch on his arm, your voice in his ear, and the smell of your perfume. As they reached the front of the ship the ramp hissed to life, descending towards them. Din walked up the ramp into the hull dragging the bounty behind him. Din’s excitement was evident in the bounce in his step and the bounty chuckled to himself.

"What's all the excitement for Mando?" his voice dripping with mocking, his mouth curled into a sneer.

Din whips around and without a word pushes him headfirst into the carbonite chamber, the bounty's face frozen in shock in the carbonite.

"Good riddance." Din mutters to himself, angry that the bounty had gotten under his skin. Shaking his mind clear of the interaction he looks around the ship for the two of you. Checking every different nook and cranny in the ship he starts to panic. You and the kid were nowhere to be found. All he can see are scattered remnants of your presence. Some strewn about toys of the kids, some of your clothes littering the small bed you shared. But no sign of you.

He runs out of the ship, flicking on the tracking mode on his helmet, scanning the surrounding area for any trace of you. Catching a glimpse of some footprints Din starts running across the terrain desperate to find you. Suddenly he reaches the edge of a large field of yellow flowers.

In the centre he sees the tops of your knees and your resting form nestled into the ground amongst the sea of yellow. He breathes a sigh of relief knowing that you were ok and unharmed. His panic slowly fading as he sees the glint of silver his kid’s little carrier. Wading out through the petals he makes his way towards you, hearing you humming a soft tune to yourself he smiles underneath his helmet.  Finally reaching you, he looks down at your soft features and smiling expression. You were basking in the warm golden light of the two suns on this planet, soaking up they’re rays.

You smile up at Din your lashes fluttering open to see his solid form beginning to block some of the sunlight. “Hey there stranger.” You say softly as though you were waking up from a daydream.

“Cya’rika how have you been? Its been a while…” His voice trails off, a sadness filling the silence between you. Feeling the emotion in his tone you pull him down towards you as you sit up, bringing you face to face. Resting your hands on the base of his helmet, your gesture asking permission to remove the metal that separates the two of you. He slowly gives you a slight nod of reassurance. Lifting the beskar off you see his face, unobscured but full of longing, his dark eyes full of emotion.

“Din I…” Your voice falters as his pained expression pierces your heart. Silence falls between you once again as you try to reel in your emotions, your eyes glistening with tears that were about to fall. His expression conveyed so much that you couldn’t take it. How could this warrior, this man, be so broken at the thought of not being with you?

“I missed you so much little one. I missed you and the kid.” He started to ramble, the emotions getting the better of him. “A week is too long without you, it’s been agony…”

“My love,” You say softly to him, a smile of pure happiness spreading across your face. He looks up at you and you rest your hand on his cheek. Sighing Din closes his eyes, relaxing into your gentle touch he had missed so much. “I missed you so much as well, your voice is all I crave in the dark of the night in that stupid metal hull.” You smile, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Smiling back at you Din reaches his ungloved hand to your face to brush the tear away. “Little one, you’re too good to me.” He says as he wraps you in a loving embrace. Gripping you tightly as he strokes your cheek softly. You both needed this, you both needed to be together, holding each other like this.

“Oh don’t deceive me…” Din hummed, continuing the song you had been humming to yourself earlier.

“Oh never leave me…” You continued, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Contentedness washing over you as you breathed in his smell of leather and pine as Din continued to caress your cheek.

Din knew that he would never let anything jeopardise this incredible love he had found, he would die before he’d let anything happen to you or the kid. You were his world, and he was yours.

[amyscascadingtabs]

expecto patronum

Post-The Fugitive. Jake and Amy talk Harry Potter, patronuses, and love.

✨read on ao3  ✨ 

“Hey, babe, I’m home!”

The door makes a distinctive clicking noise behind Jake as he locks it. It’s only one of the many sounds he’s getting used to; his new home is full of them, and they’ve become much more noticeable now that he’s here every day. He’s known his way around this apartment for a long time, but living there, permanently, is different. It’s a good kind of different, though. 

“In here!” Amy shouts from her – from their – bedroom, and Jake hurries to hang up his jacket and bag before going to greet his girlfriend. 

    He’s coming home late tonight. A questioning at work dragged over after a surprise confession, and as exciting as those are, Jake’s bitter over missing dinner and Property Brothers with Amy. He half hadn't expected her to be awake still, but once he was finally free to text her that he was on his way home, she replied straight away to tell him she'd be waiting. Rosa had teased him about how wide he’d been smiling, but Jake hadn’t found it in him to care. 

Amy’s laying on her stomach in bed with a thick book leaned against the pillow, resting her chin against one hand as she reads and holding up the cover with her other. Jake recognizes the book; it’s Prisoner of Azkaban, the third book in the Harry Potter series. He was reading it himself a few weeks ago.

“Ah, Harry Potter. Good choice.”

Amy closes the book against her index finger and looks up at him. “Yeah, you inspired me. How was work?”

“We got a confession,” he grins. “It was dope. Guy just started rambling, pretty much told us his whole life story for some reason, and now we have him. I even got to call the victim’s mom, tell her the news.”

“Sounds like a good day, then.”

“Yeah. Missed seeing you, though.”

“You see me all the time, babe. We live and work together.”

“I know, so it makes me feel even weirder when I don't!”

Amy laughs, letting out that adorable chortling sound he only ever hears when they're alone. Then she looks back to her book, scooching closer to her preferred side of the bed, and Jake takes that as an instruction to change into pajamas so he can join her. 

Any regular night, he would probably have taken time to shower and brush his teeth first, but it's been a long day. He simply undresses instead, smirking as he notices Amy’s subtle side glance when he takes off his shirt. This, these small moments of appreciation between them, is yet another one of the parts he loves most about sharing a life with her – it’s nearly midnight, he’s exhausted and he remembers Amy mentioning starting her period, so sex is almost guaranteed to be off the table – but she still makes him feel attractive, makes him feel confident and wanted. He never realized how much that being an equal exchange meant to him before their relationship.

   “So,” he asks her, “where are you up to in the book, then?”

“Almost finished the whole thing,” she says, looking very proud of herself. “I’m at the time-turner chapter. Harry thinks he saw his dad cast a patronus from the other side of the lake, but then he realizes just saw himself.” 

“Man, that part was so sad.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah!” Jake huffs, crawling underneath the covers. “I just… felt for him, you know? He wishes he could meet his parents, just once, even if he knows it's impossible. He wants this family he never had.”

“It makes you realize how in the end, he's just a kid. A brave kid, but a kid.”

“A kid in desperate need of therapy.”

“Amen,” says Amy, flipping a page. “Hogwarts mental health services do seem to be severely lacking. Did you know the dementors were inspired by the author’s own experiences with depression, by the way?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Dark creatures with the power to bring out all the worst memories in your head, making you feel like you’ll never be happy again. Like you can’t even remember what it’s like. And the only way to defeat them is to hold onto the very happiest moments of your life and create a shield out of them.”

“Kind of deep for a kid's book,” Jake reflects, and Amy nods. 

“Maybe. But it's not pushed on them, either. It's a way for them to understand, without knowing that they're understanding. I always loved that about the Harry Potter books,” she says, a sudden dreamy look in her eyes. “They're just… intelligent.”

   Jake means to agree with her, but then his body remembers he's been at work for the entire day, and out comes an embarrassingly big yawn that makes Amy laugh. 

“Long day? I can read to you if you want.”

“Dreamgirl,” he mumbles. Amy rolls her eyes, but then she reaches out to pull him closer, her left hand running through his hair as she holds the book with her right, and he can see her smiling.

   Jake's not sure how long she's reading for. He loses track of time, but frankly, he doesn’t mind. Amy's reading voice is low, peaceful enough to relax him but varied enough to entice him at the same time. Her fingers keep brushing through his curls as she reads, tracing soft circles on his scalp. He listens to her read the part where Harry and Hermione fly on Buckbeak to rescue Sirius, and it doesn't matter that he read the book himself just a few weeks ago, because he could listen to her voice forever.

   He gets to do that now, he realizes, because they live together now. It may only have been a week, and not completely without its challenges, but it already feels like one of the best decisions of his life. Even though they were spending almost every night together before as well, there’s something special about coming home and Amy already being there. Not because they’ve made specific plans for her to be, but because that’s the norm, because home is the same place for the two of them now. There’s something intimate about getting to share a routine with her, working out a system for who gets the bathroom when in the morning, adding stuff onto the same grocery list. Even seeing his t-shirts next to hers in the dresser puts a smile on his face in the morning. It feels grown-up, and it feels stable, and it feels right. 

    He wonders sometimes if he could have imagined this the night she knocked on his door to tell him screw light and breezy. Honestly, he probably could have, even if he was too proud to admit it to himself in the beginning. But after a year and a half of dating, of which six excruciating months were spent apart (and hopefully no more will ever be, he thinks), Jake couldn’t care less about pride. He loves Amy Santiago, and he wants to spend all the time he can with her, give her everything and share his life with her for as long as she’ll let him. That, if anything, makes him proud. In any case, it’s like he said that first night undercover as Johnny and Dora – there’s really no one else’s opinion he cares about more than hers. 

    Amy finishes the chapter, reaching for a bookmark before putting the book on her nightstand.

“There,” she laughs. “That’s your goodnight story.”

“Mm, one more chapter.”

“Mm, no. It’s late, babe.”

“I have a question,” he says then, knowing it’ll garner her attention and give him some more treasured quality time before they really have to go to sleep. Amy raises an eyebrow and shakes her head lovingly at him, but then she nods. “Harry’s patronus is a stag, right? Like his dad’s animagus form. And in the fifth book, Hermione has an otter, and Ron some kind of dog.”

“A Jack Russell terrier. Yeah, why?”

“How is your patronus determined? Like… how does it know?”

“It’s supposed to reflect your innermost personality,” she answers, not missing a beat. “It represents something about you that makes you who you are. Something that gives you strength, I would say. So for Harry, that would be the thought of his parents fighting for him.”

“I like that,” Jake says. “A lot of things in that universe are just grossly poetic though, aren't they?”

This makes Amy chuckle. “Very true.”

“What do you think yours would be?”

“Oh. Hmm.” She presses her lips together. “I don't know. What do you think?”

“We could find out,” He grins, reaching for his phone. “I’m sure there's a BuzzFeed quiz.”

      He's right – and although Amy rolls her eyes at him at first, they end up having a laugh at the quiz, picking the options they think best suit the other one and shrugging when the results suggest Amy’s would be a horse, and Jake’s a stag.

“The descriptions are pretty accurate, though,” Amy says, reading from Jake’s phone. “Brave and fearless, and your greatest asset is your ability to love. Sometimes you get a bit hot-headed and impatient –” Jake fake-gasps. “– but your friends are your source of peace, getting you through the good and bad.”

“I still think it should be a ninja turtle,” he mutters. “But yours is true, too. Loyal, smart, underrated badass.”

“It just gave us the same patronuses as Harry and Ginny.” Amy smiles. “They do get together later, so I guess that works.”

“Spoilers! I haven’t gotten to that part yet!”

“Oh, come on, it’s really obvious.” She kisses the pouting grimace off of his face. “Different question. What memory would you use to cast your patronus?”

“I have thought about that,” he confesses, blushing. “It’s a three-way tie. The first time you told me you loved me. That evening when you stood outside my door and told me you wanted to be with me, for reals. Maybe even our first date, after the bet. All of those, together… I think they’d make a damn good patronus.”

“Wow.” Amy almost looks taken aback, like she wasn’t expecting that moment of sincerity. “I’m surprised you didn’t just say the first time we had sex or something.”

“Would you have wanted me to say that? Wait, is that yours? Santiago –”

“Oh my god, obviously not –”

“Obviously? Wow, hurtful, much –”

“Just let me finish!”

“Title of –”

“Stop!” Amy’s shaking with laughter, holding her hand on top of his mouth just for a second. “Stop, stop. What I meant to say was that it’s the same for me. That’s what I’d think of, too.”

“Even the bet? Even though you lost?”

“Yes, babe. Even though I lost.”

“So it wouldn’t be the first time we had sex, then.”

She smirks. “We’ve had better since.”

Then she leans over him, and her lips are on his, insistent but soft at once. His heartbeat’s speeding by the time she pulls away, and it satisfies him to see that her face is a little flushed, too. 

“For the record,” Jake mumbles as she rests her head on his chest after, “this, right here – would also work for a damn good patronus.”

“Oh, yeah. No dementor would stand a chance.”

“Mm. You’re a nerd, but I love you.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight, babe.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her and allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the feeling that’s started growing in him recently.

Forever, this could be forever.

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 28 - “You have to let me go”

Summary: Peter is no stranger to mourning. He'll do anything to keep his family safe.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/73219281

Okay. My little love note/ramble will be at the end of this chapter, but I just wanted to say before you read this- thank you. So much. Sincerely. This has been quite the adventure. But like all adventures, they have their end. I hope you like this one.

-----

Peter lands messily on the pavement, pain shooting spikes up his ankles and his heart beating a million miles a minute. Choosing to ignore the discomfort, he runs the rest of the way to where Rhodey, Natasha, and Steve are standing in a tense semi circle in front of an old warehouse.

He skids up beside them, barely breathing. “I- I came- agh. I came as soon as I heard.”

Steve places a strong hand on his shoulder to steady him and Peter can’t help but lean into the touch. They all stop what they’re doing to look at him and their eyes tell Peter enough for his stomach to plummet down to his toes.

Pity, guilt.

Fear.

“Where’s Tony?” he asks, his voice sounding far away to his own ears.

None of them answer, averting their eyes to the ground.

“Guys. Where is he?”

Rhodey looks torn. He looks from the ground to the warehouse, his mouth hanging open in indecision. “He’s in there. He’s okay.”

“For now,” Natasha says.

Peter nods, though his anxiety doesn’t lessen any. “Okay. Why haven’t you gotten him out yet? What’s the plan?”

He looks to Rhodey for his answer but the hero merely bites his lip. Sighing, Natasha interjects for him. “Tony’s cuffed to one of the center support columns. There’s a bomb strapped to the column beside him. The perimeter is rigged so that if crossed, the detonation time will shrink dramatically. It might even cause the bomb to go off immediately.”

Mouth dry, Peter tries his best to keep his breathing even. “How much time do we have?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Oh God,” Peter whispers. Steve’s hand on him tightens as he sways. “So what- what’s the plan?”

“Still working on it,” Rhodey says, his confidence slowly returning. “We’re trying to see if we can disarm the bomb from here. It’s too dangerous to trigger it by trying to cross the perimeter and grab him before it goes off.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry Peter. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

He nods shakily, glancing over to the warehouse. So close, he thinks with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“You should call him,” Steve says. “He still has his com connected.”

“Right. Okay.”

Released, Peter steps away from the small group of heroes as they work furiously with tech Peter has never seen before. Despite their words, Peter can see how worried they are in their tight stances and clenched knuckles. It rips a hole through him. “Karen. Call Tony please.”

“Of course. Calling Tony Stark.”

For a moment Peter is afraid he isn’t going to answer. On the last ring, however, it connects. Tony’s strained voice replaces his anxiety with temporary relief. “Peter?”

“Tony,” he gasps, knees weak. “I- I just got here. Are you okay?”

A short silence. “You’re here?”

“Yeah. Everyone close enough got the distress signal. I came as soon as I could but I was in English. Mrs. Fletcher doesn’t usually let kids leave in the middle of class but you know me. I found a way.”

Tony doesn’t laugh like Peter had hoped he would. The weight in his stomach triples. Instead, when he speaks, his mentor’s voice shakes. “You- you really shouldn’t be here, kid.”

“You’re in trouble. Of course I’m here. I’m always here.”

“It’s not looking- Christ. It’s not looking good Pete.”

Everything freezes. His chest stills for one breath, two. The ground seems to drop out underneath his feet. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

No. No, he refuses to believe it. “How much time is left?”

“Just under six minutes.”

“Oh man.” Peter glances over to the Avengers. “Uh, guys?” he calls. “How’s it looking?”

Rhodey’s pinched expression tells him enough.

He can’t breathe.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice filters back in, his tone warmer. “It’s okay bud. Just breathe. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Peter forces air into his lungs, because this isn’t about him. This is about Tony. “We’re going to get you out,” he promises.

He can imagine Tony wincing, and it brings tears into his eyes.

“Kid?” Tony’s voice is soft in a way he’s never heard it before.

“Yeah?”

“I just- I’m really proud of you, alright? I want you to know that.”

“Tony stop-”

“No,” he interupts. “I need this Pete. So zip it while the adult talks.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m so proud of you. Getting- getting to know you has been one of the greatest privileges I’ve had in my damn screwed up life. I wouldn’t trade it in for anything.”

His heart beats ferociously against his ribs, warranting a physical pain. He can hear it in his ears.

“Stop saying goodbye,” Peter pleads.

“You’re a good kid, Pete. And you know I don’t go around saying this kind of stuff lightly so you sure as hell better remember it. You’re ten times the hero I ever was and I know- I know that the world is in safe hands.”

“But what about me?” Peter gasps out, eyes trained on the warehouse as the world spins. He knows it’s selfish. God he knows it’s selfish. “What about me, Tony?”

“Three minutes!” Natasha calls out, her voice cracking.

Silence.

“Tony!”

“Don’t blame yourself for this, okay? Don’t you dare. You don’t deserve this kiddo. I know this is unfair. You- you deserve to be happy.”

“Tony-”

“I love you Peter,” he says.

And then the line goes dead.

Peter’s insides vaporize. “Karen,” he says numbly, “call him back.”

It doesn’t even ring. “I’m sorry Peter. The call has been declined.”

“Damn it!” he screams while turning hurriedly back to the group. They’re pale. Rhodey’s hands are shaking. “We have to get him out right now!”

“Nothing’s working,” Natasha stammers, her fingers flying over her keyboard.

“Something has to work! Make it work! It always works!”

“We’re trying the best we can!”

On the screen, he sees the detonation time at 2:11.

He’s not losing Tony.

He can’t survive another loss.

He can’t.

The world dissolves down to a single thought.

Then he’s sprinting.

Sprinting with all his might towards the warehouse. The other three scream out his name, ordering him to stop but he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t dare. He pushes onward, nearly stumbling against the liquid panic coursing through every vein. By some miracle he stays on both feet.

He launches himself right through the front door, a loud beep signalling the perimeter breach. Rhodey’s voice enters his ears then, forced through. “You triggered the bomb to fall down to a minute. You have 60 seconds to get him out of there.”

It has to be enough.

Tony isn’t hard to find. He’s in the center of the warehouse, chained around his torso. Peter is at his side in lightning speed, wrapping his hands around the restraints and straining with all his might. At first they don’t budge.

No, no. He has to be strong enough.

“Peter-” Tony gasps. He’s livid. Shaking like an addict on withdrawal. “What the hell are you doing here? The bomb-”

“We still have time,” Peter pants, blinking tears out of his eyes.

“Peter!” Everything they’ve been through together, good and bad, bleeds into Tony’s voice. It shakes under the weight. “You have to let me go bud. This whole place is going to explode-”

“No.”

“I’m not letting you die for me. I’m not losing you.”

“And I’m not losing you! I’ll get you out. I’m not giving up.”

The electronic beep of the timer is constant, merciless. Tony jerks against the chains, his eyes wide and blown with panic. 35 seconds. 34. 33. Peter can tell his mentor is trying to connect with him, trying to use these last seconds to make him fold. To sacrifice his own life for Peter’s safety.

But Peter can’t.

He won’t.

“You have to let me go,” Tony whispers.

Peter sobs. It’s dry and panicked and desperate. A prayer. Something deep and foreign clicks inside his chest and in the next second, the chains snap and fall away. Tony slumps forward in surprise, catching himself on his elbows. Peter wastes no time in pulling him up to his feet, too scared to count it as a victory.

“We’re in this together,” Peter hisses, unable to believe that in what could very well be their final moments, he’s angry.

At Tony, at himself. At the world.

“Fifteen seconds,” Rhodey says in his ears.

The world narrows to an impossible size. He’s aware of every beat of his heart. Of every breath. Him and Tony race for the exit, the daylight beyond its doors acting as a promise. For a moment Peter thinks they’re going to make it, that everything will be fine.

Then they cross the perimeter line.

His spider sense flares right before the bomb detonates. He barely has time to realize that obviously the failsafe would work both ways, but it’s too late to correct the mistake.

There’s a deafening explosion. The ground shakes violently and Peter is reminded horribly of the warehouse. Searing heat reaches his back and he uses his lost conscious thought to tackle Tony to the ground.

He isn’t awake long enough to see if he was able to save him.

----

He wakes up in the ambulance. Everything blurs as if it’s underwater.

There’s hands on his arms, on his face, holding him down. The pain is all-consuming, tearing him apart limb by limb.

Something pressed over his mouth makes it difficult to speak. He coughs in his fight for air and it feels like his body rips in half.

“He’s waking up!” someone yells frantically.

“T-T-”

The voice must have belonged to Steve because his face appears above him in a messy streak. Through the delirium Peter can still identify the sharp glare of worry in his eyes. “Don’t try and talk, Peter. You’re going to be okay.”

“T-Tony-”

He doesn’t know if he’s alive. He needs to know-

Something sharp pricks his arm before the thought can finish. It’s welcoming at first, but he can’t help being afraid.

Everything fades like it never quite existed in the first place.

And if Tony is dead, if it’s his fault, he wants it to stay that way.

----

The next time Peter wakes up he’s in medbay.

It’s familiar. Too familiar, he would argue. The cotton sheets, the sharp smell of antiseptic. The pressure of needles poking into him and oxygen in his nose.

He’s laying on his stomach, so there must be something wrong with his back. Whatever it is he doesn’t feel the pain yet, which is nice.

Every thought is murky and distant. With eyes still closed he searches desperately for them. Steve was there, he thinks. Rhodey and Natasha too. He had been scared. Had run for something. Or from something?

A bomb.

Tony.

The fear returns in a fatal swoop. Somewhere in the distance he hears his heart rate monitor spike. He squeezes his eyes closed further, not wanting to wake, not wanting to face a reality without Tony in it.

Tears pool in his eyes.

He’s no stranger to mourning.

“Peter?”

The voice is muted in his panic, almost unreachable, though he knows in all reality it must be close. It stops his hyperventilating short, his chest burning as he refuses to draw in air.

Then he hears it. Another heartbeat.

“Peter. Open your eyes bud.”

Bud.

For once in his life Peter listens, his landscape blurring with tears. Sure enough, Tony is there, laying beside him on his own bed, so close that they could reach out and touch if they wanted. His mentor looks terrible, the skin on his arms and neck bandaged to cover what could only be burns. But he’s awake and sitting up.

Alive.

“Is this real?” Peter whispers. He doesn’t move an inch. If it’s a trick, or some drug-induced vision, he wants it to be permanent.

The world pauses on its axis.

Tony wipes a tear off Peter’s cheek.

“This is real.”

And Peter knows it’s true.

“Tony,” he gasps, unable to manage anything else through the thick knot in his throat. His heart monitor goes crazy again. More tears escape him and he shoves his face into the mattress to stifle a sob.

A heavy weight falls off his back. The relief is dizzying.

“Don’t cry kiddo. You’ll make me cry.”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I’m not trying too-”

Tony shakes his head with a soft expression on his face. “You’re pumped full of painkillers. I don’t blame you.”

“You’re alive.”

It almost sounds like a question.

Tony’s face melts into something dark for a moment before turning into a small smile. It looks like regret, Peter thinks. Or guilt. “Yeah kiddo. I’m alive. So are you.”

“What happened?”

Tony straightens his posture and tilts up his chin as if to dramatize the story. “Well, firstly you decided to disobey three high level Avengers to run into a building that was about to explode.”

“Sounds like me,” Peter agrees weakly.

“You got me out but as soon as we crossed the warehouse boundary it triggered the bomb to detonate. We got caught in the blast.”

Peter swallows thickly. “Are you okay? I thought. I thought-” but he can’t finish. Can’t even imagine vocalizing it.

I thought you were dead.

“I’m okay,” Tony says too quickly. There’s pain in his eyes. Raw, unresolved. “You took most of the damage when you covered me with your own body. You managed to push us far enough away to escape most of the explosion. A couple steps back and we wouldn’t have made it.”

Peter knows Tony well enough to know what he’s thinking. “Is this where you yell at me about self-preservation?”

The sound Tony makes is almost a laugh. Almost. He shakes his head. “I thought for sure it was over,” he murmurs. “It’s not fair you had to make that choice.”

“We’re family.”

A pause and Tony has to wipe at his own eyes. He looks away, puts up a shield. “I know, kiddo. But your life is more important than mine. Always.”

Peter shakes his head sadly. “Tony-”

“Always.”

“No, no. That’s- that’s not true.” He tries to prop himself up on his elbows and winces when it hurts. “We accept the love we think we deserve, you know.”

Tony stills at this. “What?”

Peter furrows his eyebrows, afraid he said it wrong in his drugged state. “We accept the love we think we deserve.”

Bottom lip trembling, Tony looks away. When he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Mmm. English class. It’s from a book we’re studying.”

“It’s nice.”

Peter nods his agreement, letting his eyes droop for a second. But no, this is important, so he forces them back open. “I think you deserve a whole lot of love,” Peter says quietly. “In fact we all think that. So just let us give it to you, okay? Believe it too.”

Tony leans back on his pillows and digs his hands into his eyes. “Wow, kiddo. Anyone tell you that you’re getting wise lately?”

“I’ve always been wise.”

“Mhm. Whatever you say.”

Peter smiles, something reconstructing inside of him. “Thank you for what you said over the com,” he says. “Before everything went crazy.”

“I meant every word, kid. You’re family, no doubt about it. And that’s- that’s why I was so scared. It’s why I’m always scared. You mean too much to me to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“Pete-”

“I’m wise, remember? Would I lie?”

Tony huffs out a smile. “I suppose not.”

Peter feels the drugs hold over him, wanting to drag him back under. He reaches his arm out to Tony who accepts it in his own. “We’re okay,” he mumbles. Finally, his eyes slip closed. “It’s over now.”

Time passes and Peter drifts on the surface. He feels Tony rubbing small circles against his knuckles.

“Love you, kiddo,” he hears Tony say after a while. His mentor’s voice is more gentle than he’s ever heard it before. He must think Peter is asleep.

Good thing he’s always full of surprises.

“Love you too,” he murmurs without hesitation. It drains the last of his energy and this time, he’s not afraid to let go. He falls asleep to the sound of Tony’s soft laugh.

It’s healing. A fresh start. A future. A family.

It’s been a long journey, Peter thinks.

And he wouldn’t change a thing.

-----

I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE!! Okay... maybe it is me who's crying haha.

Where do I even begin?? It's funny how after writing nearly 40,000 words for this fic I can't seem to articulate the ones to say how grateful I am. I've loved posting on here every day. I've loved interacting with you all and making so many new friends. Your comments and support and love have seriously made this month so much brighter. You've made me a better writer, you've made me smile and cry (in a good way lol). Just, wow. THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart thank you. This ending is bitter sweet for me, but there's good things ahead I promise :)

I've never been good at goodbyes, so lets not make it a goodbye!! You're all so amazing. I truly, truly mean it. I couldn't have done this without you. This is just as much my story as it is yours. I hope you enjoyed this conclusion. Please lets stay friends!!! Please!! Come talk with me on tumblr: @polaroid15 if you want <3

Alright friends. There's so much more I could say but I don't want to keep you forever haha. I LOVE YOU. SO SO SO SO MUCH. I AM GRATEFUL FOR YOU. And as always, I hope you're having an amazing day <3

It's been a long journey, but I wouldn't change a thing :) <3

Love, Polaroid15

[dothwrites]

15.13 coda--the price we pay

So it’s true, when all is said and done--grief is the price we pay for love.--E.A. Bucchianeri

---

Jack’s door closes with a small snick. Castiel watches it close. The thin barrier of wood separates him from his boy, but it doesn’t keep away the muffled sounds of sobs and sniffles. 

The moment had lasted an eternity, Jack looking at Dean through tear-bright eyes, begging for forgiveness, Dean staring back down at Jack, his jaw set and eyes gimlet hard. Dean feels things more deeply than anyone else, Castiel had told Jack. He’d meant it. Joy, anger, guilt...Dean feels, so much all of the time, that it spills out onto anyone else who gets in his way. 

What he hadn’t told Jack was that that was the reason that he loved Dean. Was because he felt. As an angel, a being who was never intended for emotion, the sight of a human soul, writhing with emotion so bright that it managed to shine through hell, was enough to captivate him. He’d been drawn towards Dean, helpless as a moth towards flame, and there he’d stayed, caught in Dean’s orbit. There he weathers the tempest of Dean’s anger as well as the brightness of his joy. 

And he’s had time, firsthand, to experience to balm of Dean’s forgiveness. 

Dean’s hand had descended towards Jack and Castiel had hated Jack’s flinch. Hated it for Jack, hated it for Dean. He knew that that flinch hurt Dean, reinforced what Dean had suspected all along--that he was nothing but a brute, nothing but a monster. 

But Dean’s hand had landed on Jack’s shoulder, just a moment before Dean was on his knees, pulling Jack into a fierce embrace. “It’s ok kid,” he said, voice thick and gravel-rough. “You’re ok.” 

Sam had knelt alongside them, his long arms wrapping up Jack and Dean alike, and Castiel...His work was done, in a sense. He’d facilitated Jack’s return to the Winchesters, seen his soul restored. Gotten one step closer to the ultimate goal. So Castiel had taken a few small steps out of the room, silently. No one had seen him go, no one had noticed his presence, until Dean and Sam walked out. Sam’s eyes were glassy, his face flushed. Dean’s mouth was flat, but there was something calm and peaceful in his eyes, something that had been missing for long weeks. 

Anger takes a toll on the soul. 

And then they’d walked away, leaving Jack’s door to close behind them. And Castiel watches--Watches his boy deal with the pain of his actions, watches the Winchesters walk away. After a moment, Castiel follows. 

Dean glances up when he enters the room. Something hard glints at him. It reminds Castiel of the pain of the word idiot when it comes from Dean’s lips, the curling realization that no matter his contribution, he’ll never be valued. 

Castiel is still a soldier, first and foremost. He understands the necessity of sacrifice, knows that in chess, sometimes you have to lose pieces in order to win. 

He just wishes that Dean would care a little more when he’s finally taken off the board. 

---

Cas looks at him with wide eyes and Dean knows that they’re going to have to talk. Probably sooner than later, judging by the stubborn little purse to his mouth. Dean takes another sip from his beer (those bastards drank them down to almost nothing, greedy little sons of bitches) and luxuriates in the swallow. He’ll put off this conversation as long as he can. 

He still doesn’t know, how to put all the concern that he feels, the worry that continuously scrabbles at the inside of his skull, into words that don’t spit and fizzle like poison. He’d seen the minute little flinch in Cas’ face when he said idiot, just like he’d seen the Jack’s flinch when he reached out towards him. He’s doing better, he’s trying, but what the hell does it say about him that the people that he loves best in the world literally draw back from him? 

“I’m going to bed,” Sam says, his voice still scratchy and rough. Dean knows that the deal with Jack hit him hard, but there’s something else there too. Sam’s continuous glances at his phone tell a fairly convincing story. No doubt there’s a series of texts from Eileen waiting for him. 

Which would be fine, Dean’s all aboard the good ship Saileen, except that Sam’s departure leaves him alone with Cas. And Cas isn’t leaving or starting the conversation, which means that he’s going to leave Dean to deal with this whole mess. 

The silence between them takes on a distinctly stony feel the longer they sit in it. It’s so damned uncomfortable sitting in it, yet breaking it would somehow be worse. Dean will give it to Cas--he’s a passive-aggressive little shit when he wants to be. 

After the quiet becomes so uncomfortable that Dean’s teeth are itching, he finally decides to rip the band-aid off in one, vicious tug. 

“It was a damn stupid thing, what you did.” 

He didn’t mean it to sound like that, he really didn’t. But his intentions are worthless--the words fall harsh and flat between them, like little loaded weapons. Whatever softness might have been lurking in Cas is gone. 

“It was the only way to get what we needed.” Cas’ voice is tight with repressed emotion, but the words are enough to spark a wildfire in Dean. 

“It was the only--what the fuck man?” he spits. He stands up, his chair skittering backwards across the floor. Its feet scrape against the wood, loud enough to send the hairs rising on Dean’s arms, but he ignores that in favor of focusing on Cas. 

“The only way was to go and get yourself killed? Again?” 

Try as he might, he can’t erase the image--Cas, slumped motionless in the chair, face gone that particular shade of pale and waxy that Dean knows and wishes that he didn’t. How many times has he been forced to watch Cas die, right in front of him? How many times has he said goodbye? And they’ve been lucky--for every goodbye, there’s always been a Hello Dean waiting, but Winchesters aren’t known for their luck. How long before it runs out? How long before Cas does something so monumentally reckless that there’s no coming back from it? 

How long before Dean has to say goodbye permanently? 

“It wasn’t like that--” 

“It was exactly like that!” Dean’s anxiety and worry spills out of him in a vicious tirade. “Sam and I come back, find you--”

“So you’re the only one who can take pointless risks?” Castiel is standing now, and there’s a dangerous, sharp edge in his voice that Dean should probably heed, but he’s too far gone for that. 

“That’s different--” Though it really isn’t, the difference is that Dean is just...Dean, just some schmuck who doesn’t have a trust fund, who doesn’t know any life other than that which cakes blood and dirt underneath his nails. He doesn’t matter, not in the long run. But Castiel...Castiel is made of stardust and the cosmos. It would be a sin, if Dean were left on the world while Castiel ceased to exist. 

For a moment Cas is speechless with rage. Then he’s striding over to Dean, pushing an angry finger into his chest, so hard that Dean’s sure there will be small, circular bruises blooming over his skin within the next day or so. 

“How dare you? How dare you assume that everyone...that I would be fine without you? How dare you think so little of yourself?” 

Dean laughs, a wretched ugly sound. “Yeah? Well, right back at you pal.” 

It hits him then, weights falling from the sky: how tenuous their grip on this life is. How any wrong move could be their last. How any of them could be snuffed out in the merest flicker of an instant and nothing of them would be left behind, save grief. 

Dean isn’t aware of the series of events that end with him crashing into Cas. He knows that his knees buckle, that he reaches out for Cas, that Cas is there to catch him, steady as ever. He folds himself into Cas, burrowing his nose between the collar of Cas’ shirt and his neck, brushing against warm skin. 

“I thought I lost you,” Dean finally says, the words dredged out of him like vomit, coming from somewhere dark and desperate that he keeps inside himself. Cas, his head lolling backward, hands limp on his stomach. Cas, light pouring out of his eyes and mouth, angel blade pierced through his chest...”I thought that I’d lost you again.” 

He doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing as his shoulders shake with the release of pent-up emotion. He tries to crawl away to lick his wounds and hide his shame, but Cas’ arms tighten like a vice around his shoulders, keeping him present. 

“I can’t...don’t make me lose you again.” It’s half order, half-plea, but wholly sincere, gasped into Cas’ neck. “You think that you’re fucking expendable, that the ends justify the means, or whatever else your stupid chess metaphors say. But I need you in this with me Cas. I need you with me.” 

“And how dare you assume that I don’t feel the same,” Cas answers back. “How dare you think that I could go through this earth without you with me.” 

Dean draws back, just enough that he can take Cas’ face in his hands. Cas’ skin is warm against his palms. He can feel the flutter of Cas’ pulse underneath his hands, wild and thready and so very alive. “You ain’t fucking leaving me,” Dean says, before he kisses Cas. 

Just before his lips meet Cas’, he thinks that he sees something flicker across Cas’ face. A hint of regret maybe, a deeper secret coiling underneath the surface of those blue eyes. 

Dean pushes it aside before he kisses Cas, hard enough to bruise. Permanent. 

---

“I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”―Mark Twain

[blue-slush-writing]

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.2k

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮

𝐏𝐨𝐯: Izuku has finally been able to get out of an abusive relationship with Todoroki but can't seem to full escape, especially when all of their friends are trying to force them back together

Katsuki thought his life was perfect, but as soon as his daughter was unexpectedly born his girlfriend left, leaving him to be a father on his own. He's trying to make it through college while taking care of his 3 year old.

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: 𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠

Chapter 2

Izuku could roughly hear his alarm going off next to his bed and he could feel the sun's light shining in through his window. The bright rays were piercing through his tightly shut eyes, and he groaned, squinting. It was a Tuesday morning and he had class in about an hour, but despite the continuous beeping, he only rolled over, prepared to go back to sleep and skip class. His comforter was practically begging him to just stay in today. Along with his awful headache, it seemed like reason enough to ditch for one day. Part of him wanted an aspirin, but sleep felt more important. He shifted uncomfortably as his bare skin rubbed against the sheets. Somewhere in his mind he was vaguely aware he was naked, but the situation didn’t quite click into place until he felt an extra pair of arms wrap around his from behind. The warmth of another person pressed up against his back, and he rolled over, coming face to face with a smiling duel haired man. his eyes opened in surprise, and he began to speak, only to find the words caught in his throat.

“Morning sunshine.” The boy muttered, trying to lean in for a kiss, but was instead met with Izuku’s hand pressed tightly between their lips. Even this early in the morning Shoto still looked stunning, but that wasn’t quite what was on his mind.

“Did we… again?” When he had invited Shoto over, he had sworn to himself wouldn’t get high enough to sleep with him, but it seemed his self control was more of a figment of his imagination. It hadn’t been too long since the two of them broke up, but it felt way too soon to be considering getting back with his Ex.

In response to his question Shoto only laughed. “You really can’t hold your liquor Izu.”

“We were drinking?!” The man was a known lightweight, which was why he rarely drank, especially in combination with weed. For the life of him he couldn’t piece together what happened last night, but here he was, for the second time that month, laying naked in bed with a guy he had sworn not to see again. Maybe he had slipped something into his drink. Izuku tried to move out of Shoto’s arms and sit up, but was immediately pulled back down into a tight hug.

“Come on. Don’t be like that. You were so nice to me last night” He planted small kisses along his collar bone.

“I was nice because you got me drinking until I forgot what a dick you are.” He snarled, pushing him off. Izuku rolled out of bed, dragging one of the blankets with his as a robe. Their clothes were scattered across the room, and no matter where he looked he couldn’t seem to find his boxers.

“They’re s on the couch.” Shoto turned over on the bed, Obviously not planning on leaving his apartment anytime soon. What worried Izuku more is that he was probably going to have to wash the entire living room. With his luck they probably hadn’t gone for only one round. He grabbed a pair of booty shorts out of his dresser and pulled them on, throwing a thin white T over top. It was way too early for this shit. His head was pounding and everything felt very bright and harsh. Just how much did he drink? He was trying to act nonchalant, but he had a really bad feeling in his gut. Even if he hadn’t been in his right mind, he felt like he was leading Shoto on. Izuku knew he didn’t plan on getting back together with him, so doing this made him feel dirty. He never used to do one night stands, but the more time he spent around friends, the more time he woke up in situations like this. his friends were his Ex’s friends which meant they were all trying to push the two of them back together. Even now, he was sure that they had all purposefully ditched the party last night just to give them some time together. Those bastards.

Still feeling incredibly tired, he walked drearily into the kitchen, bumping into the counter on his way to the coffee pot. With a hangover like this he was going to start with a minimum of three mugs and an aspirin. He popped the last instant brew cup into its place and added water before pressing start. He could have just stood there and watched, but he felt the overwhelming need to brush his teeth, so he made his way down the hall to the bathroom, and was met with a very unseemly sight. He looked like a total wreck. His makeup from the day before streaked down his face and his green dyed hair was an absolute mess. He looked like he had just walked out of hell.

He splashed some water onto his hands and slowly massaged a puff of soap into his dry face. It stung his eyes, but he rubbed his skin clean till he was satisfied, and rinsed, wetting his hair in the process. He was in desperate need of a shower anyway , but that would have to wait until after he got an explanation. He felt like his heart was racing faster than it should, and he could see his hands shaking as he opened the cap to the tooth paste. Maybe it was the drugs still working their way out of his system, but he got the feeling he was afraid of the things he might have said the night before. The promises he might have made. Hell, with the way he acted when he was drunk he might walk out this just to be told they were already back together. Part of him longed for that. Wanted to be held again and shown affection. Wanted to taste Shoto on his lips when they-

But the other half of him knew that was impossible. He had already had his heart broken once, and he didn’t know if he had it in his to go through that again. Shoto was the one who had got him started on pot in the first place when they were back in high school. Izuku was stressed and anxious, and had been easily convinced it was just a way to “chill out”. His relationship quickly went from best friend, to dealer and customer, and when he didn’t have the money for weed, he would pay with... favors. This continued into college, but soon he was able to make other friends who hooked him up and he became a resident stoner. Weekends, parties, and now apparently Monday nights, he would get togethers to get lit. Everyone seemed to like him and he got invited out a lot. He was just a typical college kid with some extra problems.

Somewhere along the way his favors for Shoto got more and more serious, until he just asked him out. Izuku had probably mistaken what they had for love and immediately said yes. They would fight, make up, have sex, and pretend like none of it happened. Maybe he could have realized earlier that something was off, but the blonde just had a way of doing things that always brought him back. Like after a long day of work he would sneak the two of them onto their apartment buildings roof, and they would spend the night in each other's arms, just watching the stars and talking about nothing. When they did finally break up it was because Shoto had cheated. Behind Izuku’s back there had been a girl named Momo who seemed to be nothing more than eye candy, but had taken up his time nonetheless. When he found out what was going on he had been devastated. After a long fight that lasted days of on and off screaming, they decided it would be best to just part ways. To Izuku it had been the end, but Shoto seemed to think they were just on some kind of break.

Swishing water around in his mouth, the greenette spit out the last of the minty paste and left from the bathroom. He could hear his Ex getting dressed in the bedroom as well as the beep of the coffee machine, signalling that the pot was done brewing.

Once he had poured himself a mug, he couldn’t be bothered to add creamer and just decided to drink it black. he didn’t have the patience to search all around his kitchen for whatever ridiculous spot his friends had left his milk and sweeteners. He had only just taken a sip of his steaming drink when Shoto walked in wearing one of Izuku’s hoodies, and prosmuidly nothing underneath. He slowly tried to approach him, but every step forward warranted two steps back.

“Are you serious Izuku? We’re not five. You can’t just back away from your problems.” He moved closer. “We still have something. We always did. I already apologized didn’t I?” His voice almost sounded sincere, but there was a layer of malice dripping behind every word. This was one of his tactics. Say sweet words laced with just enough poison to scare his into submission. But he had grown too much since their breakup to fall prey to his lies once again. He never wanted to go back to being Shoto’s plaything.

“You cheated on me with some bitch you met on tinder. You lost me the day you started sleeping around behind my back.” He knew he must have a dark glare on his face, and he hoped it got his point across. He wanted him out immediately. “I’ll show you to the door .” He tried his best to sound warm, but it was clear that he was about ready to lose it. He wasn't sure why he was so angry, but a swarm of memories was clouding his mind and he felt as though he was on the verge of tears. If Shoto stayed any longer he might collapse and give in again.

“Can I at least take a shower before I leave?” It was so clear this was not a question but a demand, but Izuku was not having it. With no words left to say, he simply grabbed a jacket from the front closet, shoved it at Shoto and pushed him out the front door. He honestly couldn’t care if it was winter, and that he was wearing barely anything, but his new house was close enough for him to not have to worry. And Even if it wasn’t, why should he care? The man was no longer his problem.

Once he was alone in his apartment he immediately collapsed down onto his bed, wondering why he had let this happen to himself. His first class started in close to 30 minutes, but he definitely did not feel like going. He would write his professor an email saying he got sick and hope that he didn’t think his getting sick for the 13th time that semester was strange. He probably hated him, but it was just a general language class. He had dropped English in high school and now had to retake it at 9:30 in the morning every Tuesday and Thursday.

Despite having taken a bath the night before, Izuku felt filthy. His skin was crawling and he wished he could run away any memories that might resurface the night before. Before he tried to figure out anything for the day a shower was in order. He once again pulled himself from bed and picked up his phone from the nightstand. He had been in such a daze last night that he hadn’t even plugged his phone in and it was now at a dwindling 13%. he connected it to his charger, not even bothering to look at his string of notifications. Who ever needed his could wait until after he was clean.

He had just put his clothes on, but easily dropped them to the floor and carefully made his way to the shower. There were red solo cups littered around his living room, and the whole place wreaked of drugs and sex. This is why he never let people party at his house. He was surprised to not find puke in the bathroom, but at least that would be one less thing for him to clean up. He clicked the water on and stepped into its spray, not waiting for it to warm up. It felt so good to have the cold droplets covering his back and dripping through his hair.

As the water heated up he felt like his problems melted away. Thoughts of past love, lust and affection, the after taste of drugs. They slipped down the drain with all of the sweat from the night before. When his and Shoto had broken up he had replaced all of his soaps so that the house would stop smelling like him. So he would stop smelling like him. Now all of his senses were filled with the smell of white chocolate and strawberries. It was the same body wash that he had used in middle school before all of his problems had come barreling head first into his life. It reminded him of his mother, Inko. The soap had originally been hers, But Izuku had stolen it and didn’t change the scent he used for years. He had only switched it in highschool when his friends told him that he should switch to a brand that was better for the environment.

As he stood in the shower, he could feel his legs lightly quivering and he had to steady himself against the shower bar. It hadn’t been immediate, but the effects of an eventful night were finally hitting him. He relentlessly scrubbed hisself, wishing he could magically erase himself from existence. The worst part of all of this was he already didn’t want to be sober anymore. He had made a catastrophic mistake under the influence, but he knew he could forget if he just let himself go a little. Being addicted to something was incredibly annoying. As long as he could guarantee Shoto wouldn’t be there, he would probably call up his friends and ask them to come over later that night.

When he washed his hair, streaks of green hair dye bled down his arms and torso, drizzling down the drain like a sad stream of sludge. The bright color was fading and it was close to time to redye it. Those were a multitude of colors he could go for, but he always found himself dying it green to match his eyes. At the very least he was on brand.

With the last bits of soap leaving his body, he cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Water dripped off of his onto the floor mat and he rang his hair out with a towel, not letting the moisture cling to his roots. The entire room was filled with steam and he couldn’t see himself in the mirror, but it was safe to say he felt vastly better. Whatever had happened was in the past and all he could do now was move on with his day. Maybe he could call up his friend Uraraka and they could watch movies instead of doing their work on campus. She was kind of an idiot, but She always managed to make him feel better.

Izuku wrapped the towel around himself and opened the bathroom door, letting out a ploom of smoke. The rest of his apartment was cold and he instantly regretted leaving the warm confines of the shower. He quickly ran to his bedroom and found a comfortable sweater and a pair of sweatpants. The two clothing items didn’t match at all, but who was going to see him? He might as well have put on some fuzzy socks too. Once he was bundled in warm clothing he reached for his phone and began to scroll through his alerts.

Those were tons of messages from his friends apologizing and checking in on him, an email from his boss, even a message from one of his close classmates asking if he was coming in today. He checked the email first, worried he might have forgotten about a shift. He worked at a fast food chicken hut, and he had thought he didn't have work until tomorrow, but with the way his day was going he was better safe than sorry. He skimmed it quickly, only noticing the key details. To his relief it was just notifying him of what hours he would be working so he wouldn’t be late...again. His boss liked him because he did his work while on shift, but he wasn’t the most reliable when it came to actually showing up on time. He usually did the four to nine shift but tomorrow he was working overnight.

His last notification was from Uraraka . She used a long string of emojis to accompany a message apologizing for leaving him alone last night. She seemed genuinely upset and said that Iida had dragged her out before she had even realized what was happening. Both Uraraka and Iida were Graphic design majors and lived together on campus. There was a good chance the two of them were dating, but Izuku never pressed the subject. He decided he might as well message her just to see if she wanted to come over. She most likely wouldn’t respond, but it was worth a shot. His fingers flicked across his keyboard and he sent him a simple text that got his point across.

‘Come over. I’ll get snacks and a movie. Just bring something… strong. Makeup for leaving me alone last night by giving me something to forget about Shoto.’ he knew he would regret saying this even as he typed the words, but he longed for an escape. Not only just from his Ex, but more from his situation. Somewhere deep within himself, Izuku felt like he was missing something. Like he didn’t belong. It was as if he was yearning for a place he had never been, whose he would finally feel whole. That “place” certainly wasn’t his one bedroom apartment.

Izuku decided it was worthwhile to put some concealer on, so as not to look like a total wreck for his friends. He didn’t care much about his appearance, but at the very least he wanted to cover up the redness of his tired eyes. His head still throbed from the past nights drinking, and every time he would turn his head too fast clusters of black dots would cloud his vision. Sighing heavily, he let himself fall back against his pillow, deciding he would just take a short nap until someone responded. He had no idea how late he had been up yesterday, but he could feel his fatigue dripping from him. Not even bothering to cover himself with the comforter, he rolled over, burying his face into the warmth of his cotton heat.

~~~

A ding on Izuku’s phone stared him from his sleep. He had his ringer all the way up, and the loud beep echoed through his room. Groaning, he turned over grabbing his phone from his night stand. It was later in the evening now, nearly Five o’clock, and the sun was no longer at its peak in the sky. Among other notifications, he had a message from Uraraka.

‘I’m in class, but I’ll be over in a bit. I get out at 4 so close to then.’

Four? It was an hour past then. Izuku sat up in bed, worried that he had missed her. He would feel so stupid if she had actually shown up only for his to fall asleep. Just as he began to worry, he heard quiet talking coming from the living room. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but it sounded like the TV was playing, as well as small laughs that bounced around the apartment. He sat up, clutching his head and stumbled out of his bedroom. Sitting thoughtlessly on his couch was Uraraka, watching his TV as if it was her own house. She had her feet kicked up on his coffee table and her school bag was sitting next to her. She had clearly come straight from class. He certainly hadn’t been quiet when he barged into the room, and she looked up from where she was sitting and looked at him as if he was the one who seemed out of place. She had a smug grin, and he was sure he must look ridiculous from sleeping on his face.

“The front door was open so I invited myself in.” She said nonchalantly, leaning her head backwards on the couch to stare at him. He definitely should have warned her-

“I wouldn't sit thise if I was you. Pretty sure I had sex there last night.” He said, sighing. Normally it would have been funny to see the look of utter disgust on Uraraka's face, but he was still feeling guilty about what happened. The brunette quickly leapt up from the couch, shaking herself off as if he had gotten an STD just from sitting there. He looked at her with regret at having spent the last hour laying down on the sofa. As bad as his mood was, it did brighten him a little bit to see the idiot running around trying to whip the cooties off of herself. Slowly his frown turned up and he began to laugh, walking forward and throwing a clean blanket over the cushions and taking a seat himself. “Honestly I don’t really remember what happened last night, but Shoto did say some cryptic things about the living room.” He said, giggling at Uraraka’s reaction.

After a few more minutes of flailing and laughing, she finally sat down, smiling brightly. She was glad to see that he wasn’t an absolute wreck. When Izuku did things he regretted, he tended to be a mess for days. She had been especially worried today when he asked for hard drugs. He rarely did anything more than pot, so he knew he must be really upset.

“You promised snacks, but I have yet to see any food.” She commented, gesturing dramatically around the room that was still covered in trash. Izuku wished he had had the chance to clean before she had come over, but to be fair, he wasn’t even awake by the time she arrived.

“I swear you only ever come over for my food.” he muttered, standing back up and walking over to the cupboards. He almost expected them to be completely empty, but to his surprise those were still a few bags of chips amongst the others food. Maybe his friends had just missed them the night they were over, or maybe this was their way of apologizing for leaving him with Shoto. Either way at least this was food left to offer in return for whatever Uraraka had brought over. He grabbed some ruffles and what was left of the takis and threw them down in front of Uraraka. “This is the best I can offer, so eat up.” He slumped down next to her and sighed. He already felt better being in the company of one of his friends.

Uraraka immediately opened up the bag and began to scarff down the food as if it was the last meal she would ever eat. If she kept up like that she would probably end up puking on him. While she made quick work of the chips, he snatched his backpack and began to dig around, looking for whatever he could to calm his racing mind. Being in Uraraka’s presence was nice, but he needed something a little… stronger. Her mess of a bag had crumbled up papers, day old food wrappers and a variety of notebooks. Her computer was the one clean looking thing in the whole black hole, and he definitely didn't see any drugs. She had flaked out on him. Shit. He dropped it to the floor and let his head fall back, looking straight at the ceiling. It was stupid feeling so dissapointed over something like this. Asking his friends for drugs definitely wasn’t a healthy way to cope with whatever this was, but at some point in his life it was like he had just given up. Given up on being a good son, on his school work, on making something out of his life.

When he was a kid his mother would tell his that he was his brightest star and that he just needed to find his home. He thought he had found it with his Ex, but all he had come out with was addiction and depression. He had become so codependent with him, that the last couple months alone had felt like hell. Everyday he almost gave in and unblocked his number, just wanting to be able to have someone to lean back on, but his mothiss words stuck with him. As much as his kind touches and loving whisper would sing him into his sweet fantasies, it was hard to look past all of the time he would get mad or violent. He was so good with his words, and he used them as a weapon, bleeding Izuku of his indiscretions. It was hard to win a battle against someone who knew your everything. Shoto was his weakness and it was easy to exploit that.

Truth be told he would kill to just be able to sit down and talk to his mother, but he hadn’t seen her in person in over two years. It wasn’t that they hadn’t been close, but when he moved out his mother had moved to Europe. She never came back to visit, and Izuku never asked. If he called her right now and really wanted her to come home, he knew she would catch the first flight back, but he never said anything. Inko had had Izuku when she was only 19 and he had always felt guilty for taking away the prime of her life. His mother never showed it, but he had the feeling that she was missing something. This was always this longing look on her face, especially after his father died.

He barely remembered his dad, but everyone who knew him talked fondly of him. Inko always said that they were deeply in love and that she wouldn’t give up the time they had for the world. After he had passed away he said she felt very distant living at home. That’s why after Izuku had moved out for college she had gone to England.

He only realized he had been spacing out when he looked up to see Uraraka pulling a small gum tin from her pocket. “You looked so zoned out just now I thought you might already be buzzed” She said jokingly, sliding the lid off the container. Inside was a small pile of white paper strips with hearts on them. That was definitely stronger than weed.

He had only taken LSD once before and had a rough trip that felt like it lasted forever. his friends assured him it was only around seven hours, but it had felt like days. He had almost walked into a busy street towards the end of it, and hadn’t really tried it since. He wasn’t sure if he really felt like doing this, but at this point he felt bad refusing Uraraka when she had come all this way for him, not to mention she was giving it to him for free. Maybe it was out of obligation or self pity, but he opened his lips, sticking out his tongue and placed a tab in his mouth. It tasted like nothing and disintegrated instantly, leaving him waiting patiently for it to kick in.

He looked over at Uraraka who sighed and smiled at him. “It’s probably going to take at least 30 minutes to kick in. We should probably just settle in with a movie.” Without waiting for confirmation he grabbed a remote off the table and clicked on the tv. After a bit of scrolling through netflix they settled on the ring, a safe choice.

G

Izuku had settled into the couch and was deep into the movie when he thought he heard someone whispering behind his back. It almost sounded like the wind whistling in his head and it made his skin tingle. He ignored it at first, playing it off as his imagination but the words seemed to come closer, until they were right in his ear, mumbling nonsense he couldn’t make out. He whipped his head around, looking for the source, but was only meant with the empty apartment. He looked over to Uraraka to see if she was experiencing the same thing, but for some reason only half of her was sitting on the couch. From her waist down was right where she was supposed to be but the rest of her was nowhere in sight. This should have been alarming, but instead he found himself giggling, covering his mouth with his hand so Uraraka’s legs wouldn’t get mad at him. The closer he looked the funnier it became to him, and soon he was breaking out into a fit of laughter.

As he laughed he could see the sounds tumbling out of his mouth in bright colors that painted the whole room into a rainbow. All of the hues seemed to seep together into a psychedelic collage. He slowly stood, trying to gasp them between his fingers, only to stumble over, nearly face planting into the beer stained carpet. As he stared at it the ground seemed to boil and pop beneath his. He felt a pair of arms wrapped around his hoisting his back to his feet. He turned his head, to come face to face with Uraraka, who was back to being a whole person.

“I found the rest of you!” he said with triumph, a bubbly laugh erupting from his. Izuku could see her lips moving, but couldn’t hear any of the words she was saying as she slowly set him back down on the couch. He was about to protest and stand again, when small black dots began to spot his vision. He blinked a few times, trying to get them to disappear, but they only seemed to grow, slowly clouding his vision.

He looked around for Uraraka, wanting to ask for help, but she was nowhere in sight. He began to shake his head violently, not understanding what was happening, but everything kept getting darker and darker. He was vaguely aware he was screaming, but he couldn’t seem to hear the sound. His throat began to get soar and he felt like he couldn’t breath. He began to take deep gulps of air, but it only made him more dizzy. Just as the last of his sight blacked out, he felt himself falling backwards, losing his strain of consciousness and collapsing into sleep

[soulbornincoldandrain]

so im just going to have to sit here and deal with the fact that ADAM is absolutely unhinged and if i emotionally distance myself from the other characters i have to say this man is an absolute blast of a villain

like, yes the flamboyant borderline pedophilic bastard with a weird notion of love and just enough nostalgic backstory to evoke the slightest bit of sympathy in the user, and if not sympathy then just plain curiosity as to how this fucker ended up the way he did

like there's this very casual buildup to his complete fuckery; we start with rude and alienated and extravagant with the slightest hint of pedophilia and we go yeah, yeah he's the antagonist and then he starts flirting?? with our seventeen year old definitely-a-minor protag in his weird creepy way?? and like yeah he's definitely perverted and creepy and the living personification of MAKES-ME-FEEL-UNSAFE-IN-THE-SAFETY-OF-MY-ROOM and like that's the target right? that's what they're going for

not to mention, the way he treats tadashi, right? his closest friend, his only confidante, the only person he trusts enough to help him with his shady af double life on the tracks of S !! and he calls him a dog, treats him the way a crappy excuse for a human would treat a stray mutt and is generally super tasteless and extra which is pretty in character of him and you're like surely there is no redemption for this man right?

and there isn't! there is absolutely no redemption for him,,,

,,,but then we have the fleeting moments of vulnerability, of his aunt's revealing their shitty personalities and the way they've tormented ainosuke his whole life and how skating was his only reprieve that was also brutally snatched away from him and so he's filled with bitterness like; yeah, sympathy maybe, sure

and maybe that even explains his toxic and disgusting view on the class divide, maybe it's been forced upon him by his aunts (which btw i can totally see happening, what with the way they completely purged ainosuke of any capability of love) and that coupled with his own bitterness stemming from the fact that tadashi didn't stand up for him in a place where ainosuke genuinely believes he should have (and btw don't get me wrong, tadashi is Not at fault here because his literal life would have been on the line had he tried to defend his master's stupid skating hobby and yeah im saying ainosuke is an entitled piece of ass but that's the thing about entitlement; it blinds you) and still no redemption, but it's just enough to keep you on your toes

// mentions of abuse, emotional manipulation and all the ugly business

and oh, did i mention he had a tragic past? verbal and physical abuse that bent and rewired his concepts of love so that he started to view abuse and hatred as love and care and the determined reassurance from every character who knew him in the past, oh he wasn't like this before and he changed for the worse and like okay, yeah maybe he has some shred of humanity within him

and his interactions with cherry and joe and tadashi back then, that smiling laughing kid of the past being pushed around on the board by tadashi, that quiet terrified little boy hiding in the corner because even though his aunts told him they were punishing him out of love it still hurt and he was terrified, he didn't want to go back to that and so tadashi helped him out of there, offered him a way out on four wheels and a rush of adrenaline and then that same tadashi who was a hero in ainosuke's eyes ended up betraying him in front of his father

the same ADAM who formed an important bond with his best friends and started a whole underground skating movement with them, the same person who kaoru was (im assuming) wildly in love with, to the point that this relationship of theirs blinded him into complete faith and was the ultimate reason why he lost against ADAM in this episode

and like. we see this huge divide between childhood + teenage ainosuke and the way he just wanted to skate because he enjoyed skating, skate to escape from the pain of his responsibilities, skate because he loved his friends and then we have adult ADAM, this wildly unpredictable man-child who flirts with a seventeen year old because he genuinely believes the two of them are made for each other and it really gets you wondering as to whether he really was this manipulative sleazebag in desperate need of therapy all along, or whether something changed along the way that made him who he is today, whether cherry and tadashi, the two people whom we know to be near-canonically in love with ainosuke, were right about him all along and that underneath that terrifyingly creepy façade he's,,, secretly a good guy?

and they rope you along! even if it's just for a second, you feel that slightest bit of sympathy for the bullshit he's gone through like yeah i hate the fucker, but i sincerely wish he manages to free himself from the shackles of a life he didn't want and that he gets that catharsis for all the pain he's suffered-

-AND THEN HE UP AND FUCKING DECKS CHERRY IN THE FACE WITH A SKATEBOARD WHILE THE MAN WAS COMING AT HIM AT NEARLY THIRTY MILES PER HOUR??? BECAUSE HE WANTED TO GET A POINT ACROSS???

man.

[brideofcthulhu10]

Hey guys I'm gonna be out and about today but before I go out to town I thought I leave you with some little Laddie Headcanons! A special thank you to my co-writer @imlostinsantacarla !

Laddie Headcanons

Unfortunately, Laddie was a part of a home in which a divorce was in the process of being filed. There was an immense amount of tension in the family dynamic whilst his father and mother sought to gain custody of him individually as they were in the midst of a messy breakup. The young child’s grandparents were aiding his father in filing for custody over him as his mother was hell bent on having sole custody without any visitation rights.

It’s well known that Laddie’s face was on a milk carton in the movie, with the word ‘MISSING’ written above it. This is just primarily speculation, of course. However, why else would two parents who didn't care about their child put up missing person’s posters everywhere? It’s certainly obvious that his parents were deeply troubled and affected by their son going missing, in conjunction with being apprehensive over his safety as they had no idea where he was.

Whilst his father was attempting to gain custody of him with his grandparents' help, Laddie’s mother lost him one night whilst on the BoardWalk too busy getting drunk at a bar, which is how and where the boys found him. He was all on his lonesome, wandering the BoardWalk terrified. The sight sincerely pulled on their heart strings. Seeing a little kid lost in the dead of night searching for his mother desperately just did not sit well with them.

Armed with the knowledge that their fellow sister Star was having second thoughts over their lifestyle, David immediately took the initiative to coax Laddie into drinking his blood and turning into one of them. This was not only to provide the child with a home, but also a strategy put in place to keep Star close and have her fully commit to their way of life as vampires. After all, girls love kids, don’t they? Surely her maternal or big sisterly instincts would kick in and provide her with the drive to become a caring figure for the young boy whilst solidifying her place in their group. She’d already agreed to the terms, there was no backing out now!

The other boys come to a conclusion of agreement that this is the best option as they cared about Star immensely, least enough to put up a fight when she was considering leaving, and they could not just let a poor boy stay out on the streets with nothing. There was a high likelihood of him getting kidnapped, murdered or something far, far worse whilst he was out there on his own. So they made the collective decision to take him under their wings and into their home, promising him that he would always remain safe with them.

Graciously, as if it were a match truly made in Heaven, Laddie and Star got on swell. The wee boy clung onto her desperately as she truly did remind him of his own mother and how she once was when she was with his dad. Star also bears a resemblance to his mother physically, ensuring that Laddie would bond with her much easier. The boys could not have been more happier and celebrated their success.

And thus it was settled! The boys took Laddie to the hotel and turned him, buttering him up a little in order over the next several to gain his trust and comfort.

"So, Laddie, you like it here?” David smirked at the young boy sat on the edge of the fountain in the hotel.

“Yeah it’s super cool!” He beamed enthusiastically, dangling his little legs off the edge and swinging them back and forth, they barely even hit the ground.

"Would you stay forever?" David pressed further, blonde brow quirked up in intrigue.

"Can I?!" Laddie exclaimed with an enormous grin plastered on his childish countenance.

"Hell yeah little dude! We even have a pretty, cool big sister for you!" Paul interjected just as happily, patting the tiny guy on the shoulder.

"Really?!"

"Mhm," Dwayne added, "and you can play every night."

"And you can eat as much as you want without getting sick, dude!" Marko declared.

"So, Laddie, what do you say?" David asked, head cocked to the side as he watched the little runts eyes float from face to face.

He sits still for a moment... "Hell yeah!"

The guys cheered excitedly, Marko handing David some fancy looking bottle, who in turn passed it to Laddie. "All you gotta do now, is drink this."

"It smells funny. What is it?"

"Old grape juice."

All the while, when Laddie is missing, his mother is struck with excruciating bouts of grief and shame, and attempts to get herself into a better space. Overcoming the worry and guilt that she feels over losing her son through alcohol, drugs, whatever it was that had caused her to lose her son on the BoardWalk that night, is an incredible challenge. She felt she had let her son down as well as her previous marriage. It only spurs on Laddie’s father to find him and gain total custody of the boy.

Living with four rambunctious teenage boys is a handful in itself, so it’s not a wonder that Laddie swears like a sailor, a terrible habit he picked up from the boys. Yet his one sister attempted profusely to set a better example for him. David and Paul find it hilarious that Laddie has a filthy potty mouth, whereas Dwayne and Star aren’t a fan of his newfound language.

“Hey, watch your language, bud.” Dwayne states sternly, chocolate orbs glowering into Laddie’s smaller ones.

“Pussy!” Paul bursts out in between a false coughing fit.

Laddie truly adores reading comic books frequently. In fact, the Frog brothers knew Laddie far before they knew the Emerson’s, they just didn’t acknowledge the kid all that much since he was far younger than them. This was especially since they were far too engrossed in blabbering about vampires, their investment in their own stuff made it impossible for them to give an ounce of attention to him. In their eyes he was always just the little twerp that stood on his tiptoes at the counter in their parents store, sprinkling dollar bills on top of a fat stack of mad magazine, Batman, and secretly some horror comics stuffed underneath the other ones he’d picked out.

“ 'Scuse me, can I get these," Laddie inquired politely, his eyes peering up at the two brothers behind the counter arguing over what the best way to waste a vampire was.

“Uh, yeah sure kid, whatever.” Alan stated fervently, his eyes still plastered on his brother's brooding gaze.

Edgar stuffed them into a plastic bag without sparing the kid a glance. “$15.75.”

“Okay.” Laddie stated in defeat before scooting over a wadded up ball of a $20 bill onto the counter before collecting his change and leaving with his head hung low.

Laddie is still a sucker for comics and wants new ones on a constant basis, it’s certainly something that aids him in passing the time at the hotel. Yet Paul’s adamant that he isn’t going to pay those dorks at the comic book store a single cent from his pocket. And David is a master at mental illusions, so there is one hell of a team to concoct a way to steal comic books. Neither Paul nor David feel any shame in it. David will create the illusion that Paul is walking by the store, only to actually be stealing a stack of comics to keep the poor kid happy.

Star and her inability to part with her human nature and high morals, is never too thrilled about the entire ordeal of stealing comics for Laddie. Laddie sees nothing wrong with it and only responds with utter enthusiasm at how awesome Paul is because Paul can do whatever he wants! This leads to Laddie following in the footsteps of the other boys, believing that he can both take and have whatever he wants, whenever he wants it no matter if there’s real life consequences involved because he can use his gifts (with training from David) to acquire all of his desires.

It’s also a common occurrence for Laddie to experience homesickness; after all, he misses his parents dearly because even though they weren’t the most astounding or perfection parents, they were still his parents. When this occurs, he’ll often seek out Dwayne or Star for comfort, sitting beside them, perched into their sides. They will attentively listen to him, reminding him of how much they themselves and the other boys love him and how they aren’t going anywhere. They all will be together forever. They’d even let him know that his parents and grandparents still love him too, even if he has a new family now.

Laddie unfortunately had to learn the hard way not to go to David about this specific predicament, because whenever he did, David would unintentionally guilt trip the kid about missing his parents. It wasn’t something he meant to do, it was just that David had never really had a home or a family that cared about him, his world before being a vampire was a dog eat dog world. You had to fend for yourself and choose your family. Even then he’d seen people get chewed out for trusting the wrong folks. So there’s a huge disconnection between the pair when it comes to familial things.

Whereas Marko and Paul will do things that will take Laddie’s mind right off of the down parts of being a missing child. They’ll happily play with him, get him his favorite food, read comics with him, steal said comics from the comic book store, maybe even let him help them tinker on their bikes, blast some gnarly music, you name it! They’re prepared to go all out in helping him feel happier where he is in the present and understand that he has a place with them.

Now, as for Laddie’s tantrums… well, every child has them. Usually they tend to be pretty humorous to Paul, Marko and David- that is until something happens to their precious stuff. To be fair he is an eight year old boy, of course he wants to mess with Paul’s Walkman or Marko’s bike keys! Paul nearly had an aneurysm when he saw Laddie accidentally ripped his mint condition 1965 Playboy Magazine.

"Dude who the fuck- my fuckin- WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!"

Laddie, who had been a bit spoilt from months of pampering from a group of enabling teenagers, showed minimal signs of remorse. "They were ugly anyway, she hand on granny panties or something."

Dwayne had to step in and hold Paul back from wringing the kids neck out like a wet dish towel!  "Dude, Paul he's a kid"

"I will eat you, you little turd!"

Once again, David cracks up frequently until Laddie begins to delve into his stuff also. It all began when he wanted to go for a ride and David being the more lazy member of the group had turned him down, especially in a much firmer tone the second time around. So what did the little shit do? Hide all of their keys to their bikes.

"Dude, where are my fuckin' keys," Paul hissed, digging through the cave like a tornado went through the damn thing. 

"Yours too?" Marko exclaimed his question, settling down the couch he had lifted onto the ground. “Mine vanished.”

David chuckled to himself, that was until he patted his pocket where his precious motorcycle keys had suddenly proved to be void of its contents. "Alright which one of you assholes stole my keys?!"

However that confrontation ignited an inferno of a tantrum from the small boy, who was so used to suddenly getting his way and now he was faced with the harsh reality of being told no. The boys should have really thought twice of enabling an eight year old boy! A fit from a kid can get ugly real quick, yet it’s a whole different story when that kid is an emotional half vampire that flips tables and screams at such a volume and octave that glass cracks. Star tends to primarily be a softer disciplinarian, she isn’t fond of the idea of yelling or smacking him, she’s much too gentle for that. Dwayne on the other hand, while preferring to approach things along the placid route, feels that sometimes it’s a necessary evil- while David just straight up thinks that a good smack on the mouth ought to settle him down.

Laddie is a thorn in their asses when he’s bored out of his mind, and the boys learned rather harshly and swiftly that having a little brother was not as fun as the Brady Bunch had it appear. This kid got into all their stuff, no matter how fool proof they made it, the kid always found a way! He would follow them excessively around the cave like a lost puppy, tell them the same story for HOURS on end, ask far too many questions that Marko would just blank the kid out with his music, only for Laddie to talk even louder! It was more than evident that the child had little concern over the fact that they were killers, he’d still happily pester them until they vamped out. In fact, he went out of his way to do that! The crazy little shit…

Laddie would climb on top of one of the many dust caked couches in the hotel right next to where David was reading and peek over his shoulder to get a noseful of whatever he was focused on. "Whatcha reading?" Laddie asked innocently, chin resting on the blonde vampires shoulder.

"....War and peace." David grumbled irately.

"What's that? It's big! It looks boring! Why are the words so tiny? What's it about? Who's the hero? Who's your favorite hero? Mine's batman! Well, I like Iron Man too but Batman has all the gadgets and stuff, and I like his cape but I guess you don't need a cape to be cool, but I like the cape anyway- I like Superman's cuz it's red, red's my favorite color. What's your favorite color? Well I mean red's super cool- oh but black! Black is really cool, i guess you probably like black too huh? I mean you wear it all the time, but really maybe it's cuz-" he had blabbered all of that out in one go without so much as a breath in between his sentences! And David selfishly wondered what the repercussions were on if he flew the kid onto a random cliff and left him there for several hours. He knew it probably couldn’t be good, but it was worth a try if he was ever going to catch a break and get this book finished! Not to mention the countless times that Paul’s thrown into the mix of things, David can’t stomach it and leaves the room because he can’t handle two obnoxious chatter boxes all at once. Star yelled at him once for hypnotizing Laddie to fall asleep because he wouldn't stop talking about Batman and Robin.

It’s obvious that Laddie tends to ride with Dwayne, and it’s because Dwayne is capable of ensuring that Laddie stays in one piece. If the kid had his way and rode with Paul… let’s just say that Laddie would be smeared road kill! And frankly, none of the other vampires trust Paul with the kid. Last time he rode with Paul, he was nearly flung forward when he went off of a steep ramp. Star almost slapped the smirk straight off of Paul’s face! Even Marko thought it was a bad move of Paul’s. So, it was a collective decision - minus Paul’s whining and bitching, in conjunction with Laddie’s pouting - that Laddie rode with Dwayne from now on.

When the boys were killed off one by one, Laddie was the only one who was saddened by this, because he had formed genuine bonds with his older brothers and even though they weren’t perfect, they’d kept their word to him and kept him safe. He was going to miss Paul and Marko playing with him and teaching him cool stuff about bikes and rock n’ roll. He’d even miss David and the way the man got irritated whenever he flitted about him. But the one he was surely going to miss the most was obviously Dwayne. Dwayne was like the older brother that Laddie had dreamed of ever since he was a kid. Dwayne had taken him under his wing and ensured that no one messed with him. He listened to him whenever he was homesick and was always super patient with him and just all around compassionate. Out of all of the boys, Laddie related to him the most. And now he was gone. Though each boy held a special place in his heart. As he left the Emmerson residence, he didn’t have the stomach to look at their dead bodies as he sniffled on his way out, tears streaming down his face. Although they hadn’t been the best to Star and sometimes weren’t the kindest to him, he knew that they had loved the pair of them and deep down, Laddie would always love them.

After the entire ordeal, Laddie decided he’d set foot on finding his parents again and sadly left Star behind. She reminded him a lot of the boys and she would always have a special place in his heart. Before he left he hugged the life out of her, staining her gypsy purple skirt with his tears as he thanked her for loving him and taking such good care of him. He promised her that he’d never forget her and he hoped she never would forget him. Star was heartbroken but also knew that it was best for Laddie to return to his parents and live his life out normally. She hoped he’d grow up to be everything wonderful in life and she assured him that he would remain important and ever present in her gentle heart. A long way down the line they met each other again and embraced like close siblings that hadn’t seen each other in centuries. They were much older now and wiser.

But back to the present, Laddie stumbled upon his mother on the BoardWalk that night, as though it were a miracle. The woman looked strikingly similar to Star, she was the woman that he had remembered from earlier on in his childhood, and he was truly overcome with joy. He got to see his father again which made him happy also. Although his parents couldn’t work things out, they managed to come to a steady agreement that they would have equal joint custody of Laddie, which was something that made things easier on him to adjust back to ordinary life. However, whilst he was missing, his beloved grandparents passed away, never having lost hope in Laddie being alive and returning home someday. Laddie missed them dearly but he adjusted as best as he could to his brand new life. He was never really the same after being with the boys and Star and losing them all, his parents were aware of the change but Laddie never discussed what had happened to him, only responding in vague statements or exclamations.

Somehow though, he found a way to keep in touch with Star, Michael, Lucy, Sam and the Frog brothers. They were all connected through these twisted and sad chain of events, and his bonds with them only deepened as he got older. Even Though they had remained adrift in life, Star, Sam, Lucy and Michael showed up for Laddie's graduation when he finally got through high school. Even still he remained in Santa Carla up until his graduation dinner out with the Emmersons, Star and even the Frog Brothers had shown up. Wandering for a moment on his own, his pace slowed until he came to a haunting stop.

Just beyond the tilt-a whirl, outside the arcade, he swore, parked on the boardwalk he could see a group of biker boys. As the 80s peeled away into the wild teenage rebellion of the 90s, their styles had altered. A blonde still sported a wild lion's mane, another had messy curls grown out. The platinum blonde one was the first to alert the other three of Laddie's gaze. The four grunge rockers sported bizarrely skeletal motorcycles, laughing with each other, now carrying mischievous smiles. Before he could even confirm the haunting visage of said familiar faces they vanished in a flurry of roaring engines. The last to leave looked at him with dark, haunting brown eyes. He could see under the guy's leather jacket and torn up Nirvana t-shirt jagged scar tissue around each of his limbs faded into bronze skin. They just looked at each other for what felt like a lifetime, and a wave of chills trickled down his back. The raven haired biker smirked at him, no malice in his grin. Only a soft farewell, proud even. And then he was gone. Laddie managed to take a deep breath in, silently turning on his heel to return to Star and Michael at the diner. When he got home he was applying to a few out of city colleges, somewhere away from his past.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.04

Officially Family

10/03/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 4,265

Warnings: Language?, a wee bit of angst, sexy blonde kings wearing floofy shirts

A/N: So, this chapter was actually intended to be joined with what will be the next chapter but I think having them separate will do better. There’s a lot to digest in this one, so I hope it reads well even though it’s a little on the shorter side (for me). Let me know what you like/love/had to think about whatever! As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

It feels like a dream, sitting in the carriage as your new life looms closer and closer with every turn of the steel and wooden wheel.

Across from you, his Majesty is staring at you. Sussing out your lack of reaction to what happened last night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Happy has your arm, carefully leading you down further and further into the castle. Deeper than you’ve gone yet, and when he finally stops, you’re sure that you’re in a dungeon somewhere because there are no windows, only diffuse candlelight every few steps.

You can hear the subtle drip of water and the scurrying of tiny feet.

An echoing meow tells you that it’s probably just cats and their kittens inhabiting the deep parts of the castle.

“Why are we down here?” You ask, frightened that maybe his Majesty really is upset with you.

What if Happy lied? What if King Rogers was not happy with you and because you failed to entice him, King Tony is going to have you chained up in a cell?

“His Majesty’s other office is down here. Just at the end of the hall. I’m not supposed to go with you, so...” He hesitates in letting your arm go. “Can you make it there on your own? You’re not going to faint again, are you?”

You look down at your pretty white gown with its pink underlay and the way even down here in the dim it seems to shine like a pearl. The bottom layer is dirty now, both from your fall and from dragging it down along these dirty floors.

“No. I’m fine.” You think.

Happy lets you go. “Just straight ahead. Last door at the end of the hall. Don’t bother knocking. He’s expecting you.”

You watch as he turns away from you and with one final glance back to make sure you’re alright, he disappears up along the gray stone steps to the daylight above.

Fear will get you nowhere. So, you shove it aside and march straight for that door at the end.

You give yourself one moment of hesitation to take a deep breath and prepare yourself for what might be a trap but as the heavy door swings open, you find yourself facing a golden mask, devoid of humanoid features save for the glowing blue eyes of what you’re sure must be magic.

You take a deep breath, a scream working its way into your throat before the golden face shakes its head and then it speaks.

“Wait, wait, wait. Don’t scream.” His Majesty’s voice says. He throws one hand out towards you and you watch the slit of his metallic lips that do not move as he speaks.

Somehow, despite there being no real opening, his voice is amplified. The golden armor, which you now see is to accentuate the massive amounts of red that he’s wearing, extends down to his sternum, shoulders, and arms.

It’s there in his arms that the armor begins to weave with regular leather plate armor, deep red. In his hands shine two large orbs of light like that which comes out of his eyes. At the center of his chest is a glowing blue circle that you suddenly realize is the design you’d first noticed on his servants’ armor. The coachman and the footman.

The rest of his outfit is thick, sturdy red linen and cotton, black leather belts around his waist that match the darker shade of his leather pants. Golden boots rise high up to his knees where golden shin guards with red leather beneath complete the look.

He reaches up behind his head and with a small click, there’s a hiss and he pulls off the heavy metal mask and then pops it underneath his arm as if he were holding nothing more than a child’s ball.

“This probably won’t be the worst thing you’ll catch me doing.” He teases, then moves towards you.

You almost step back, but you remind yourself at whose invitation you’re in the castle and that this man is no longer just your king but your father.

“Please, say something.” He rolls his shoulders nervously, dark brow drawn together.

“You’re the Iron Knight.” You gasp, nearly breathless.

“It’s not really Iron. It’s a new metal. Lighter than iron. Titanium is what they called it where I found it. I added some nickel. Makes it easier to move in. Here, try it on.”

He holds the mask out to you, and you take a step back, this time simply refusing to wear the mask not fearful.

“No thank you.” You frown at him, wondering what he’s playing at offering to let you try it on.

“It won’t bite.” He chuckles but puts it down on a table which finally draws your eyes to the rest of the room.

In essence it is a massive dungeon. It’s tall and wide with a vaulted ceiling supported with thick stone pillars. There are also countless tables along two of the walls, some metal, some wood. So much gear is stacked on each table. Different shin guards and boots, shoulder guards, and wristlets. There are a few chest pieces like the one he’s wearing, works in progress.

He’d been standing right at the center of this collection of tables, a target dummy made of straw and burlap sacks at the far end of the dungeon room, singed at the head.

“I think I’ve finally got the aiming down.” He tells you, and you wander over behind him as he lifts his hand and aims it at the dummy. “Careful.”

His warning makes you step back, but he puts his hand out towards you to make sure you’re safe.

There’s a subtle buzz. A hiss, like fire but not exactly fire. It reminds you of the initial crackle and spark of a fire but it’s chaotic in its power. It buzzes louder and louder until there’s a loud fizzing sound as the blue light explodes from his palm.

It lights up the room but soars across to strike the dummy right in the center of its chest.

“Wow!” You nearly yell, the booming in your ears deafening still.

His Majesty turns towards you with a smirk, a cat’s grin as he peels off the gauntlet he’s wearing and with it the chest piece it’s attached to.

“Is it magic?” You ask him, hearing going back to normal.

“Science.” He counters, piling his armor up on the empty table where he’d placed his mask. “And a little bit of magic, yes.”

“What kind of science?” You wonder, knowing nothing about science, your curiosity is peaked.

“Chemistry. It took me a long time to figure out the right combination but a little copper sulfate, some special water, a few other ingredients and of course, the magic that gives my little light show a nice blue glow.” His Majesty says.

“And the magic?” You ask him, desperate to understand but already completely lost. Copper sulfate?

“It’s a root. Nothing I’ve ever seen before. Grown by one of the witches in the East woods. She taught me how to do it and how to use its properties.” He explains.

“You got instructions from a witch?” You wonder, shocked by this revelation more than knowing that he is the Iron Knight.

“They’re not all bad. Some of them just wanna be left alone. It’s her own creation. The root.” He places the last bit of his armor aside then massages his wrist.

“Does it hurt, your Maje-”

“Ah, ah.” He frowns at you, his bearded lips contorted into a small pout.

“Father.” You correct yourself. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m alright. And it’s Man, by the way.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Iron Man. Not Iron Knight. I don’t want people to think he’s of noble birth.” He explains.

“Oh.” You think. “But you are of noble birth.”

“Yes. But I want people to feel like anyone could be the Iron Man. They should all feel like they can take power back in their own kingdom whether it’s from an oppressive lord or a schoolyard bully. My people should be able to stand up for themselves.” He says passionately, moving to sit on a stool and roll up the white sleeves of his shirt.

“Anyway,” He begins, “Let’s forget about the Iron Man for now. Steve has written back about your portrait.”

Oh, man, there are those nerves again. You can feel the lightheadedness working its way back in.

“And wh-what did he say?” You lick your lips and move to stand closer.

Tony reaches into his vest pocket and unfolds a piece of paper before holding it out for you.

“Read it.” He tells you, and hesitantly you take it.

“I-I don’t know how to read just yet.” You admit, feeling shame once again.

“Sound it out. You know how to say your letters, right?”

Damn. Okay…time to give this a try. “First word is ‘I’.”

Easy enough.

“Good.” Father says.

“I ‘C-A-N’ with a t? Can’t?”

He nods.

“Wooo-wuu-wah-it?” You say the word a few times in your head. “Oh, ‘wait’?”

Another nod.

“I can’t wait…t-o..to. I can’t wait to ‘mee-eet her.’” You beam up at him, then look back down at the painfully short note. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Okay. You’re too slow. That was torture. Give it here.” He reaches for it and you hurry to hand it to him then move around behind him to look over his shoulder at the words.

“Tony, I can’t wait to meet her. She has nice eyes. Bring her tomorrow. We can marry the day after. Sincerely, His Royal Majesty…blah blah blah…you get the picture.” Father begins to fold up the letter, but you throw your hand over his shoulder gently, reaching for it.

“Can I keep it?” You smile at him, neck and ears burning.

“Sure, kid. Keep it.” He hands it over then gets up and moves to his tables of scraps and projects.

“Did he really say that I have nice eyes?” You unfold the piece of paper and look for the word eyes. How was that spelt again?

“Yes. He says that about every girl though, so don’t get your hopes up.” He says, dashing your dreams.

“Oh.” You sigh, moving to sit on the stool he’d been on.

“Don’t worry, kid. It just means that he isn’t sure what to think. He’ll have more of an idea when he sees you in person. I saw the picture and it doesn’t do you justice. You’ll knock his socks off.” He promises. “You’re my kid, remember?”

You nearly smile but you’re reminded that in two days’ time, you’ll be married.

“I want to make him happy, father.” You sigh, melancholy.

“You will. Just…don’t rush it. Get to know him.” He looks up at you and stares right back into your own sorrowful gaze.

He puts his tools down and moves to you, placing his hands on your arms.

“Look, I know what I’m asking of you. I didn’t even want to let Morgana do this because I want her to have what I have with her mother.”

“It’s okay.” You smile and give him a shrug.

“But it isn’t.” He frowns. “You deserve to marry for love to, Y/N. And I’m sorry for being selfish enough to ask you to do this for us, but-”

“I think I am.” You admit, sadness overtaking your chest to make it ache. “I’ve never met him. I know that he will not be what I’m expecting but Natasha has told me about him. About the person he was before Queen Margaret died and if I’d had to choose the qualities that I would want in a husband, he has almost all of them.”

“But he’s different now. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” You ask him, nearly laughing.

“No.” Father says, shaking his head, no laughing for him. “No. What I’m trying to say is don’t give yourself to him completely. Not for a while. Keep your guard up and don’t let him break you.”

“Is he really that altered?” You wonder, no more worried than you were before.

“He’s not the same Steve. If you have to love him, love him in secret. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t give him that power over you. Promise me that you’ll think about yourself first.”

You know that he means well but becoming King Rogers’s wife…it means dedicating your life to the crown. To your future people. To your husband. Maybe, just to appease him, you can give him a little lie?

“I promise. I won’t let myself fall in love with him completely.” You smile at him and he relaxes.

“Good. Now, about your dress…”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Father…” You begin, “You’ve been staring at me for half an hour.”

He looks at the Queen beside him, Pepper, mother to you now. She’s smiling at him knowingly. She shakes her head at him and then looks out the window.

“Sorry. I’m just…about what you saw last night-”

“I won’t say anything.” You promise him. “And anyway, nothing happened last night. I didn’t see anything, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I told you, you have nothing to worry about with this one.” Mother tells him.

“I didn’t think I did.” He replies with a gruff.

“He was up half the night, worried that he’d scared you.” Mother tells you.

“Pepper…” He grumbles.

“I know that this is all for show.” You start, smiling at them as they look away from their silent argument to you. “I know that it all kind of just happened and I was at the right place at the right time, but I appreciate your kindness. It’s been a long time since I’ve had parents and this past week has almost felt like I’ve had them back.

“I know it isn’t real but, you really do feel like my mother and father and I’m grateful. Thank you.”

For a moment, while you thank them, you let your mind think of them as they truly are. Your King and Queen.

They exchange a long look before they both reach out to take one of your hands. His Majesty the right, and the Queen the left.

“From the day that we took you in and until the day that you die, sweetheart, you will be our daughter. We’ve already added your name into our family register. You are now and forever officially a Stark. We can never repay what you have given not only us but your sister as well.

“When we find her, we’ll make sure she knows what you did for her.” Her Majesty says, eyes slightly misted.

“Kind of feels like we’re on the losing end having to lose a daughter we just found.” His Majesty says, and you nod with a smile, knowing exactly what he means.

“Once I learn how to write properly. I will write all the time.” You promise.

Her Majesty gives a small chuckle then the carriage jerks to a stop.

“We’re here, your Majesty.” Peter’s voice chimes in from the front of the carriage.

Time to meet your future husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

Father gives you a new dress. Beautiful silk sky blue fabric with white lace sewn in at the bust and wrists. The top of the sleeves are slightly puffed, and the skirt flows out, more lace along the bottom. It hugs your figure and Natasha ties your corset extra tight today, if only to accentuate your bosom.

“Maybe he’s a breasts man?” She shrugs.

Your neck burns.

She leave your hair down, as instructed by his Majesty, your father, long wavy curls left to flow down along your shoulders.

On your head she places a simple diamond tiara, small sapphires spread throughout the base to accentuate the blue of your dress.

All too soon you’re moving with hastened steps behind Natasha towards a room called the council chamber.

As you walk, you take the opportunity to look the castle over.

You’ve been in such a rush that you hadn’t really allowed yourself a proper look. You know that there are large round towers made of pink granite, the main structures of the castle are white marble. The roofs you can see a you pass yet another window—as they are numerous in this castle—are a dark blue slate. The colors go well together and make an aesthetically pleasing palette.

Inside the colors are darker, with deep chocolate oak wood walls and dark gray floors and ceilings. All the light fixtures however are in shades of silver and gold, bright colors to illuminate the darker tones of the interior.

There are also plenty of colorful carpets, pictures, and vases with flowers. Your future home is very warm in its décor and if it is any indication as to the style of the man you are about meet, you may not have anything to worry about after all.

You find Peter already waiting inside the room with Mother and Father also standing off to the side. Natasha shows you in, straight to the center of the room before a large high-backed chair embellished with golden etchings along the arm rests and back.

As Natasha fusses over your dress and hair, the rest of the room is absolutely silent. The nerves in the quiet are enough to drive you mad.

You wish someone would say something. Anything.

You’re already dying of nervousness. Why can’t they try and alleviate your mood?

Wringing your hands nervously, you turn to look at father who gives you an encouraging smile, mother also looking kindly.

Peter is chewing on his lip and Natasha moves to slap your hands away.

“Stop that.” She gasps.

“I’m nervous.” You admit, grieving silently.

“Me too.” She agrees.

“What?!” You gasp, quietly.

“What?” She shrugs. “I’m nervous for you.”

“I thought you said you knew him?”

“I did. Before his wife died.” She sighs. “He’s changed since then, and I don’t know what he’s really like anymore.”

It feels like you’re about to burst into tears when the large double doors behind the tall chair—which you now realize is a type of throne—open. Instead of the blonde you’ve been itching to finally see in person, your heart relaxes when a familiar long haired and blue-eyed knight enters the room.

He stops beside the throne and looks at father first, hand on his sword while the other is straight at his side.

“Your Majesties.” He bows politely, then turns to you. “Your Highness.”

The smile he gives you is one of encouragement and you appreciate it.

“His Royal Majesty, King Rogers, wonders if he and the Princess might be left to meet alone?” James meets Natasha’s eyes and you can see a quick silent communication between them before she’s reaching down for your hand.

“Listen, don’t speak until you’re spoken to. Smile if you think you should. Don’t mention the old Queen, and definitely don’t slip up about…well, you know. Keep conversation light. No swearing.” She’s rushing through these instructions and fussing with your hair and dress.

Your heart begins to panic.

“You’re leaving me?” You whine.

“Just for a few minutes.” She promises. “I’ll be right outside that door. Okay?”

“Nat…?” You swallow hard, wishing your nerves away. “What if he doesn’t-?”

“He just has to marry you.” She reminds you. “Nothing else matters. Once he’s married you, then you can worry about making him fall in love with you. Alright?”

“What if-?”

“It’s time.” She smiles. “Once step at a time. Good luck, your Highness.”

She pulls her hand out of your own firmly, and follows your mother, father, and Peter out of the room the way you’d first come in.

As the doors close, Natasha sends you one last smile before she’s out of sight.

“Nervous?” The deep familiar voice asks, and you turn to James with your breath held.

You nod. He’s wearing an outfit similar to when you met him two days ago, only today it’s dark blue instead of black.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I was there when he saw your portrait and-”

“Please don’t raise my expectations, Sir James.” You sigh. “I can’t stand it.”

“Bucky, your Highness, if you please. And if that is your wish…I will show his Majesty in now.” He offers, and gestures to the doors he’d marched in through.

You nod and watch as he leaves the room again.

For sixty long seconds you stand alone at the center of this large room where chairs line the walls. You consider making a run for it because anything is better than this waiting and then suddenly, he’s there.

Behind the chair, he walks in, wide steps made by long legs. A narrow waist hidden underneath a form fitting aqua blue vest, silver trimmings embroidered along both sides of his wide chest and collar. Underneath the vest is a plain white blouse cinched at the wrists with a small ruffle around the base of his hand where it then puffs out slightly. He looks cool, as if the fabric were flowing with a relaxing breeze.

His lower body looks powerful, muscled and thick covered in dark gray trousers, but your eyes linger there for only a moment because you’re already searching for the kindly blonde face you’ve been staring at for days in the portrait you have.

What you find instead is long blonde hair, not as long as Bucky’s but long enough to flow in waves along the sides of his face, parted along the middle. The clean-shaven face from the portrait is covered in a thick neatly trimmed beard. It all comes together to make a manly visage. He might tear solid logs in two if he tried, he looks that strong.

He’s older than he’d been in the portrait you have and there’s a sadness in his storm blue eyes that is there instead of the blue sparkle of curiosity you’ve come to expect.

He walks with his hands behind his back and stops a few feet in front of you, staring at you just as you’re staring at him. Appraising you.

He’s just as beautiful as he is in his portrait but still a little different.

Suddenly, you remember yourself and you quickly curtsy, averting your gaze down to his black boots.

Neither of you speaks as you bow and the endless minute that you just endured spreads into a few endless more.

The silence is deafening and when your legs finally begin to ache, you shut your eyes to force yourself to remain in position.

“Stand up, your Highness.” He says, his voice is deep and even. Full of authority and impatience. A little colder than you expected. “I trust your trip went well?”

Slowly you stand up, finally tearing your eyes away from his feet to look back into those storm blue eyes. They’re not sad anymore, rather, they look slightly annoyed. Angry? No. Irritated.

“It was a very good trip, your Majesty. Thank you for asking.” You reply, a little too quiet because you haven’t been breathing.

More silence. He stares at you. Relentless. No smiles. No hint as to what he might be thinking. Only a scowl, thick eyebrows drawn in at the center, eyes brooding and sad. Like he wants to say something but won’t.

Finally…

“Why are you doing this?” He suddenly asks, taking a step towards you.

“Your Majesty?”

“This marriage. This whole thing, why? You could have anyone. You’re a princess.”

“I…” How do you answer that honestly? Natasha did say you’d have to lie on your feet. You hadn’t expected for it to be this soon. “I want to-to make my father happy.”

“Mm.” King Rogers says, understanding this reason but also unsatisfied. “Any other reasons?”

And as you stare at his handsome face, you know that what you’re about to say is most definitely not a lie, so you’ll tell him. At least there are some things you’ll be able to be true about.

“When I saw your portrait…” You begin, wondering if this is giving away too much. No…it’s good for him to know where you stand, right?

“My portrait? What portrait?” He asks, taking a step towards you but not moving forward.

You hurry to grab the compact from your dress pocket and unhook the clasp to show him.

He moves in closer, the heat of his body overtaking you and momentarily dulling your mind.

“When I saw it…I decided that I…I wanted to make you happy.” You admit and look up to find him staring at you, brow furrowed even deeper.

His stern expression makes your hope waver. What does it mean? That intense glower?

“That’ll never happen.” He tells you, his voice hard, defensive.

“Your Majesty?” You ask, slightly confused.

When he speaks, his voice is intimate, quiet, and sure. He says it right beside you, close enough that his whisper is as loud as a shout and it hits you just as hard. The pleasantness of his voice making your skin pimple while the harsh truth in it fills you with dread.

“You will never make me happy. Never.” He promises, then moves away from you back towards the doors behind his throne. “We’ll get married in the morning. Tell Tony I accept his offer.”

As he vanishes from view, taking his beautiful brooding face with him, he leaves behind the tiny shreds of your hope, completely eviscerated by his cool declaration that you—specifically you—will never make him happy. Never.

[nerianasims]

Billboards #1 1965

Under the cut.

Petula Clark – “Downtown” -- January 23, 1965

I love this song to bits. I don't entirely know why. Petula Clark obviously sings it wonderfully. There's that little bell that sometimes chimes in. There's a pattern to the song that makes it feel like Broadway, which is, of course, downtown. It's a fantasy version of a downtown in a big city. One thing I love about fantasy is a sense of place, and that's what this entire song is dedicated to. It's an unusual subject for pop music, and it's great.

The Righteous Brothers – “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling” -- February 6, 1965

How does one even talk about this song? It feels somehow eternal. This is Phil Spector's production at its best. But Bill Medley's singing is the point. This song is one of the greats.

Gary Lewis And The Playboys – “This Diamond Ring” -- February 20, 1965

Gary Lewis is Jerry Lewis' son. Unlike his father, he does not consist entirely of annoyance-producing molecules, but the song's not good either. In it, the guy's fiancee dumped him and he's selling the diamond ring. A boring, bland heartbreak song that belongs three years or so back.

The Temptations – “My Girl” -- March 6, 1965

My mom used to sing this song to me when I was a little kid. I think a lot of parents sing this song to their little girls; it's that kind of love song. Yet it's not irritatingly antiseptic. It's about true love. True love can be a lot of things. This song is every superlative you can think of. Brilliant in every aspect.

The Beatles – “Eight Days A Week” -- March 13, 1965 

It's a good, but not great, Beatles song. Very fun, with a lot of interesting things musically, like the bassline (as usual) and whatever George Harrison does with his guitar.

The Supremes – “Stop! In The Name Of Love” -- March 27, 1965

Finally, Diana Ross actually sounds kinda pissed off. It's also got more of a rock edge. She's still begging, and not threatening to leave the guy's cheating ass. Yet, though there is no explicit threat, I feel like there is an implied ultimatum here.

Freddie And The Dreamers – “I’m Telling You Now” -- April 10, 1965

It sounds like this guy is exaggerating his English accent. Considering the British Invasion, probably. He cackles like a monkey on acid, which is the only interesting thing about the song, which is otherwise a bland love song. Though the cackle is interesting, that doesn't make it good. It's creepy. I don't like this one.

Wayne Fontana & The Mindbenders – “The Game Of Love” -- April 24, 1965

"The purpose of a man is to love a woman, and the purpose of a woman is to love a man." Whoo boy. Dated. But the song is 55 years old. Attempting to put that aside, the music is good. The lyrics sound pushy, though. Also it gets terribly repetitive at the end. Meh.

Herman’s Hermits – “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got A Lovely Daughter” -- May 1, 1965

Was it once usual for guys to go to their ex-girlfriends' mothers to talk of their heartbreak after the girlfriend dumped them? This song is painfully "look how English I am! You Americans like to throw money at English pop singers, right?" It wears out its welcome quickly.

The Beatles – “Ticket To Ride” -- May 22, 1965

It's interesting how the Beatles seem to have matured five years in one. I can't imagine this group having performed "I Want to Hold Your Hand." The harmonies and rhythms in "Ticket to Ride" are far more complex, the sounds are more varied, and the lyrics are much more mature. His wife/girlfriend is absolutely determined to leave him, and he seems taken by surprise. Yet there are hints he shouldn't have been: "She would never be free when I was around." He goes on, "My baby don't care." Yet underneath there's the suggestion that she simply hasn't got it in her to care any more, because he's exhausted her. Layers of harmony and layers of meaning. It's an intelligent heartbreak song, and those are rare.

The Beach Boys – “Help Me, Rhonda” -- May 29, 1965

I know Brian Wilson was a musical genius but I usually don't like the Beach Boys. It's the lyrics. The narrator was dumped, now he's begging Rhonda to be his rebound. Lucky Rhonda. Then they sing "Help me Rhonda/ Help, help me Rhonda" about five dozen times. Not for me.

The Supremes – “Back In My Arms Again” -- June 12, 1965

Urgh. Don't listen to the Supremes' #1 hits close together. She's got her man back because she stopped listening to her friends' advice. In isolation, there's nothing wrong with that. After all the songs about rotten cheating assholes whom the narrator is desperate to keep, though, it's super uncomfortable. Also using the names of the two backup singers as the friends who give bad advice is in poor taste. And "Flo, she don't know, cuz the boy she loves is a Romeo"? You solely date Romeos! Taken alone, without the context of the other songs, it's good, though I still don't like the strange insult toward the backup singers. Taken with the rest of the Supremes' hits, though, I'm not happy. Especially considering these were all written by men.

The Four Tops – “I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)” -- June 19, 1965

The Supremes weren't the only people in Motown singing about being hopelessly in love with someone who treated them badly. That's what this song is about. I like it, though the line "I'm weaker than a man should be" is a bit wince-inducing these days. But it's an honest sentiment about how men often feel they're not allowed to be idiots over love, though that's a near-universal human experience. Anyway, good song.

The Byrds – Mr. Tambourine Man -- June 26, 1965

The original version of this song was by Bob Dylan, but the Byrds didn't like it, so they changed the sound and ditched a bunch of the lyrics. The lyrics they were left with don't matter at all. This is all about the music, especially the guitar. It's mellow without being soporific, groovy without requiring drugs to understand. It's nice.

The Rolling Stones – “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” -- July 10, 1965

The Rolling Stones were almost never nice. They went straight for the gut -- or gonads -- found all the nastiest things that people are afraid to say and embarrassed to feel, and hung them up on the front porch. "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" sounds kind of silly today, since it's been played and overplayed so much. But that beginning riff still goes straight to the back-brain.

Two years before, pap like "Hey Paula" was clogging the airwaves. Funnily enough, it's the same subject matter: Goddamn I want to get laid. (The idea that Mick Jagger had trouble getting laid is pretty ridiculous, but anyway.) And then there's the critical bit about hating advertisements. They managed to stick a cultural criticism into a song that's about wanting sex. When you can't get no satisfaction, everything is annoying, and things that were already annoying to begin with start to feel unbearable. The Stones go harder in every way than any #1 before them.

Herman’s Hermits – “I’m Henry VIII, I Am” -- August 7, 1965

And here's the opposite. This song must be meant to be annoying, right? One of my friends and I used to sing it at our parents to drive them nuts, and that was before Ghost. It was their fault for exposing us to it in the first place.

Sonny And Cher – “I Got You Babe” -- August 14, 1965

Cher with Sonny is eternally confusing. Though their marriage didn't last, their love was real, and Cher was heartbroken when Sonny died. But anyway, the song. Sonny saying Cher has a "little hand" is goofy. Actually the whole song is kinda goofy, especially the beat that seems to be made of kazoos. Cher's got this powerful, deep voice, while Sonny has a squeaky little thing, but somehow they mesh. The sentiment is sincere, and a good picture of what it's like to be in a happy relationship. It's good.

The Beatles – “Help!” -- September 4, 1965

John Lennon was only 25 when he sang about being "younger, so much younger than today." But for the Beatles, that could have been two years before. They got so famous so fast and so young, I don't know how any of them lived through it. And that is what this song's about; Lennon called it a "public freak-out." But it's still universal. I love this song, and it helped carry me through some tough times.

Barry McGuire – “Eve Of Destruction” -- September 25, 1965

I remember when I first heard this song on the radio in the car with my mother, I asked her what "Old enough to kill/ But not for voting" meant. That's when I learned people used to not be able to vote until they were 21, though young men could be drafted at 18. I was absolutely stunned, and obviously it stuck with me. When you're a little kid, you tend to think the people in charge are generally fair. Then you find out that's not true at all. That's what this song is about, to me.

The McCoys – “Hang On Sloopy” -- October 2, 1965

Speaking of fair, I'm about to be totally unfair. I hate this fucking song. I had to play it endlessly in middle school band, and then I had to play it AGAIN in high school marching band. And the flute part in the arrangements was the most boring thing that has ever been conceived. I hate this song and I will not be listening to it or thinking about it more than this.

The Beatles – “Yesterday” -- October 9, 1965

Why do people in songs lose their significant others so often because they said something wrong and they don't know what it was? That can't be common. Anyway, this song is beautiful and sad. I'm kind of tired of all the covers of it though.

The Rolling Stones – “Get Off Of My Cloud” -- November 6, 1965

I'm listening to the original mono version of this, and mono sounds very strange these days. I keep wanting to check that my speakers are plugged in. Anyway, thanks to Jagger's marbles-in-mouth singing, I can't understand a word of this song except "Hey! you! get off of my cloud!" and I've never known the lyrics until now. And they're not important. Even the chorus isn't that important. This is all about the beat and the music, neither of which I find interesting for the entire length of the song. Not for me.

The Supremes – “I Hear A Symphony” -- November 20, 1965

A thoroughly happy Supremes song! I think Diana Ross is more suited to happy lovesongs than what she had been singing. She has a lot more emotion in her voice than she has before. The violins are lovely. I love this song.

The Byrds – “Turn! Turn! Turn!” -- December 4, 1965

I have always found this song slightly annoying. The Bible verse set to light pop thing doesn't do it for me. The music isn't anywhere near dramatic enough. This should be operatic, or heavy metal, or something else with serious weight. This is thin.

The Dave Clark Five – “Over And Over” -- December 25, 1965

This song is a bit of a throwback to three or four whole years before. It would have been good then. At this point, it's pretty boring. It's about going to a party he didn't want to go to, hitting on a girl, and getting turned down. The snare drum beat is very repetitive, and so is the melody. A big meh.

BEST OF 1965: "My Girl", with stiff competition.   WORST OF 1965: "I'm Telling You Now"

[itsme-autumn]

Inner Darkness  |  Part 1

Author: @itsme-autumn Pairing: Jax Teller x OC Warnings: swearing, violence

Jolene, or Ruby now that she was about to be on the clock, tried to give herself her regular pep talk on her drive to work. It was something she had to do since she’s started down this particular career path more than seven years ago. 

Jo? Jo was sassy. She was a woman who could take care of herself. Get shit done. She had always been on her own and she’d always made it work. Jo was smart. Colorful. Fun.

But on her drive to work, she had to let Jolene go. She had to let go of Jo and take on Ruby.

Ruby was much more docile. Ruby loved to please. Ruby would sweet talk a man and become his biggest fantasy. Ruby was bubbly and polite. Maybe she was a bit cheeky or even wild if that’s what he–whoever he was–wanted.

And whenever he was inside her, she was–well, she was no one. She turned herself off completely. She’d gotten so good at it over the years that she didn’t even remember most of her encounters. Only the especially memorable ones. The ones she wished she could erase from her memory permanently.

Walking into the doors of Diosa, Ruby starts to head to the back first to drop off her stuff. Before she gets there, Nero catches sight of her and waves her over.

“Hey, Ruby, how you doin’ mama?” His kind eyes searching hers. 

She smiles through her exhaustion, she can’t help it with Nero. Jo hated this work, hated this life. But in the short time she’d been at Diosa he had been nothing but kind to her, seeming to sincerely care about her well being. That wasn’t a given in this industry, not by a long shot. “I’m okay, Nero, what’s up?” 

“I’ve actually got a special job for you and a few of the girls tonight. A party for a potential business partner. Think you’re up for that?”

She’s had ‘bosses’ in the past that didn’t ask–just pointed to where her ass was supposed to go. And she wouldn’t dare argue. She knew if she really had issue with it, that Nero wouldn’t force her into anything, his sister on the other hand... 

Unfortunately, Jo was in no position to turn down any jobs.

“Yeah, of course. I just need the address and the dress code.” She tries to infuse as much enthusiasm into her voice as possible. 

This was going to be a long ass night.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Why the hell are we here so early?” Bri whined. “There are like...kids here.” Her tone disgusted.

Carla rounded on her, Jo was surprised her heels didn’t stick on the floors, the MC clearly didn’t have room in their outlaw budget for a mop. Or air freshener. 

“We are showcasing what Diosa girls have to offer. The difference between us and them.” Carla’s voice was low but venomous as she nodded her head to a couple of girls that were setting up behind the bar.

“Those girls are called croweaters. They’re desperate, classless, and the patches treat them as such. We set a new standard.” Carla took another step towards Bri, eyes boring into hers. “Diosa specializes in women that men can actually bring around town before enjoying them behind closed doors. It’s about presentation. We can be here early with the families and friends of the MC–and not be obvious hookers that the old ladies will immediately throw out. Understand?”

Jo just rolled her eyes. Like anyone would ever take any of them for anything other than whores. It’s like putting lipstick on a pig. 

She tugged on her dress. Horny Biker Chick was the look she was going for per Nero’s classification. Her her dress was simple, but effective: black, strappy, and tight. Paired with black heels smoky makeup, Jo knew she would get the intended attention. That, plus what she already had going for her.

She realized why she was asked to be a part of this exclusive offer tonight. Being chubbier than most of the girls, having tattoos (more than just a butterfly above her ass), and a mop of dark curly hair made her a bit of a required taste.

For some it was a fetish of sorts. Others, usually high caliber business men wanted the antithesis of what they got at home–thin, prim, proper to her thick, blunt, and alternative. 

But badass bikers were right up her alley. Suddenly her desired presence despite Carla leading the group tonight made sense. Any other job and Carla would have made any excuse to exclude Jo–Ruby–like she always tried to do.

Ruby made her way over to the other side of the room, the party was still pretty subdued, most people quietly mingling amongst themselves. The large wall full of framed mugshots caught her eye. She couldn’t help but smirk and roll her eyes as she looked them over. Boys. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were intimidated.”

You turn to see one of the mugshot models in the flesh. He could totally pass for a model, you think before you can stop yourself. Between the slicked back blonde hair, well kept goatee, and piercing blue eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a biker this pretty. And that smirk he’s giving you is really giving something to you.

“Intimidated? You should see the wall of mugshots in my living room.” Your snarky reply only makes his smirk grow. Sass was always your love language.

That’s when you notice the President patch. Oh shit. 

President of SAMCRO. Jesus Christ. No pressure or anything.

Jax is looking at Ruby expectantly and she now realizes that she’s completely missed what he’s asked her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

His eyes light up at her distracted state. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Um, J–Ruby, it’s Ruby.”

“Ruby, I’m-”

“Jax! Why are you wasting your time with her?” Bri is suddenly at Jax’s side, slipping her arm into his. “Trust me, baby, you want someone who knows what they’re doing to take care of you.” She then turns her attention to Ruby. “Ruby, why don’t you go get us some drinks? Better make yours a diet, though, honey.”

Ruby was never one to let a bitch get the last word in, and that was being a bit of a bitch herself. She narrows her eyes and quirks her head. 

“Wow, Bri, I didn’t know you were a nutritionist! Thats so great. And people say your only talent is sucking cock.” Bri’s eyes widen, but Ruby’s not done. “Now you can keep track of how much cum you can swallow before your bony ass gets a shape.”

Ruby hears Jax attempt to stifle a laugh as she walks away. It’s then that she hears a member shout from the door of the clubhouse.

“Jackie! We need ya outside brutha!” the scottman’s tone indicating that it’s urgent.

Jax immediately runs outside, along with a couple of members. Bri shoots daggers at Ruby with her eyes but doesn’t make a move towards her, instead heading to the bar. Smart bony ass bitch.

Wanting some water but not caring to go round two with Bri, Ruby heads to the small kitchen off the main room. Searching the cabinets, she finally grabs a glass and fills it up with the tap water from the sink. Turning around, she leans against the counter and takes a sip. 

How did I get here? 

She shakes her head. No. You can’t do this here. You need to keep your head in the game, Jolene. Get your shit together.

Jo takes a deep breath and sets her glass in the sink. 

All right, let’s do this.

She takes a step out of the kitchen when she hears a scream and tires screeching. She looks around and notices a little blonde boy all alone, no older than two. 

Then she hears gunshots. 

Glass shattering.

More screams.

Absolute chaos.

And the boy is in the middle of all of it. 

No.

Jo makes a run for the boy, dodging other Diosa girls and croweaters in her path. Once she makes it to him, she picks him up and drops to the ground, crouching behind a table. Shots are firing from the outside in, bullets and shattered glass flying everywhere. 

The boy is crying, but remains still underneath Jo, her body caging him in protection. She squeezes her eyes shut and murmurs encouragement to him. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying but she hope it helps. Glass is on the floor, digging into Jo’s arms, but she doesn’t dare move.

After what seems like an eternity, the gunshots stop. The chaos seems to settle down. Distraught cries replace the screams in the disheveled clubhouse.

The main doors burst open, members pouring through, with Jax leading.

“ABEL!”

“ABEL!”

The little boy squirms from Jo’s grasp and moves his little legs as fast they can carry him. “Daddy!” 

Jax spots him and bends down to scoop his son up, holding him close to his chest. Jo makes the connection as she sees the reunion from her position still crouched on the floor.

The last thing Jo sees is Jax peering at her from over the boy’s shoulder before her vision goes black.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

A/N: So this is my first OC story that I’m trying! Hopefully it’s clear that when she’s more herself she’s Jo and when she’s in ‘work’ mode she’s Ruby. Please let me know what you think!

Jax Tag List: (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!) jenny885, melissataggart87, misssara1981, lokilvrr, innerpaperexpertcloud, alievans007, calirindo, leapingoveroblivion, curly-minnie, coffeebooksandfandom, mrsjaxtellerfan, mrspeacem1nusone

[titanias-stolen-shoes]

Crossing Paths: Part Four

Summary: Something happened to Ayda—she just doesn’t know it yet. With her internship at the Cross Points Public Library, absent mind but ever-present father, nothing feels out of place. That is, until she finds a journal in the library she can’t read and soon after a wild assortment of kids come in, asking for her help.

Together they work together to figure out their dreams, the journals, and whether they can figure their way back home from our world.

Read on AO3!

-

Ayda laid awake, wondering why she had avoided letting Garthy know the truth. She hadn’t lied to him. She never lied. She did, however, not tell them the whole truth. Just that loud teenagers had come to the library right as it was closing. They had laughed and joked that she should steer clear of them. “They’re probably a bunch of bad kids,” Garthy laughed, hopping off the table. “I’m joking, love, I’m sure they perfectly fine. Don’t be afraid to talk to them if you want to.”

“They seem… normal. And I can’t always be sure that what I say or do is normal.”

“Oh, love,” they said, flipping their dreads over their shoulder. “There no way to really know if what you say or do is normal, but it’s not just you. Everyone is worried about if what they’re doing is normal. You just have to be yourself and if you’re worried about it, take cues from someone you like.”

They left after that, leaving Ayda to cook dinner for her Arthur. After an hour of waiting, she made him a plate in the microwave and went to her room. She had planned to sleep early so she could have enough energy for tomorrow, whatever it might bring. Instead, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

It wasn’t that she was nervous about meeting the other kids. In fact, she was excited. It would be nice to talk to other people her age. In school most people avoided her, saying she was “weird and hard to talk to”. She did her best not to talk as much after that. No, it actually wasn’t the kids. She was nervous about the journal. Not only did it incapacitate her, she learned nothing from the experience other than it was painful to try to read. And for them to come back to it, determined to figure out… she couldn’t imagine why they were after it.

The next morning, she walked to the library doors with heavy bags under her eyes, ready to call Rawlins to let her in. Before she could get to her phone, she saw a note on the door.

Ayda

Sorry for the short notice, but the library has been closed for the day. I will be back tomorrow afternoon. Enjoy your day off!

- Rawlins

She stared at the note, irritated and squinting. It didn’t make any sense to have the library suddenly be closed. As far as anyone knew, Rawlins didn’t do much outside of running the library. Unless it was library-related and he just forgot to tell her.

Behind her, a van rounded the corner into the parking lot, parking as close to the door as possible. All six of the kids she’d seen spilled out of the van, with two new additions (another tall man and a short girl with messy hair) surprised to see Ayda standing at the door.

Adaine shaded her eyes from the sun and said, “Are we too early?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. The library is closed.”

“Really?” Her shoulders sagged in disappointment. “We came all the back for nothing. Do you know when it’ll be open?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Really?” Riz perked up, turning back to the van and grabbing his backpack. “Ayda, how do you feel about breaking and entering?”

“Ooh yes,” The punk girl clapped her hands, grinning. “I love it when we do illegal stuff.”

“Oh, hell yeah.” The new tall one grinned. “Do you need me to stand watch?”

“I don’t feel comfortable with illegal activity.” Then she paused, thinking about Garthy and how whatever it was they did, was probably very illegal. “Let me rephrase I am not comfortable with most illegal activity. Why are you all so interested in the journal?”

They were all quiet for a moment, exchanging looks then the tallest one piped up saying, “We’re not gonna get inside if we don’t tell her.”

“Yeah,” the redhead said. “There were letters that we found under Fabian’s house. We were just goofing around and there was a box hidden underneath a bunch of crap. Anyway, all these letters were addressed to us. There was a lot of weirdly specific stuff in them. Like how me and Tracker—”

“Babe, not that,” Tracker cut in. “It was weird, so we asked his parents about it and they both said the pages were blank. No one but us could see them.”

“And if we tried to read each other’s letters they wouldn’t make any sense. It would be a jumble of words that made no sense. And the only correlation any of them had was the Cross Points Library. So, we’re here to see if we can figure this out.”

“I see.” Ayda crossed her arms, quietly processing what they said. Much like the journal, what they said shouldn’t have been possible. And yet they were here, at a library in the middle of summer when they all (well, most) looked like they wouldn’t go near a library if they had a choice.

“Do you not believe us?”

“I do. I’ll overlook this transgression if you all introduce yourselves to me.”

They all stared for a moment before one by one looking a little embarrassed. Adaine smiled a little before pointing to each of her friends, “Tracker, Kristen, Riz, Gorgug, Fabian, Fig, and Ragh.”

“I’m Ayda. There are cameras pointed at this door. Follow me to the back.”

“So, Ayda,” Adaine said, doubling her pace to keep up with Ayda. “How long have you been working here?”

“A little under a month. I work an internship so I technically employed here.”

“Tell me you’re at least getting paid.”

“I am. I won’t work for free even if it’s work I enjoy. Equal exchange is important.”

“Hmm. Then our names were equal exchange for letting us break in?”

“Yes, I don’t know very many people my age and I’m also curious about the journal.” They stopped at the back of the building, less grand that the front and no cameras to catch what they were about to do. Ayda squatted down, feeling along the stone for a familiar carving. Almost toward the bottom, she pressed in on the one she’d carved an ‘A’ on and it came out of its place, leaving a perfectly size hole for her to pull the trick door open.

Riz looked far too excited as he picked up the stone and started to examine it. “How did you know about this?”

“Last year I spent almost all of my free time here.” She held her hand out and he gently gave her the brick. “A great deal of that time was spent wandering.”

They all shuffled in, watching their head on the low entrance and into the sublevel of the library. The door let out in the boiler room which was near inaccessible to people who didn’t know that the bookshelves on the far right didn’t touch the walls. Ayda wasn’t normally allowed in here for obvious reasons, but Rawlins had shown her just in case.

The room was as messy as the first time she had seen it. Boxes were haphazardly stacked against the far wall and an old workbench was shoved off to the right.

“Hey,” Fabian said, moving toward the pile of boxes. “This is the exact same box we found our letters in. The exact same.” He shifted the boxes on top and pulled out a small wooden chest with the same set of wings on the journal burned onto the top. Next to it, carved roughly, was a bass guitar.

“It’s locked,” Riz said, swinging his backpack off. “I’ll open it.”

“I’ll go get the books. Both of them are down here with us.” Ayda moved away from their group to the door. There was just enough space between the bookshelf and the wall that the door wouldn’t hit it. She grabbed Daya’s journal easily, always remember where it was. The second book was a little harder to find. Not that she didn’t know where it was, but every time she looked in that direction, she found herself looking elsewhere.

“Ayda!” Adaine popped out from behind the bookshelf, looking a little surprised. “I wanted to see where they were. The books.”

“Alright.”

“So… do you always spend your time here?”

“No. When I’m not here, I’m at home or helping my father with his research.”

“That sounds fun. Listen, I don’t have many… bookish people in my life.”

“Why? Are you hard to be around?”

“Uh, no, I— No? Are you hard to be around?”

“Yes. I’ve been told that many times.”

“Oh. Do you want a friend?”

They stopped in front of the shelf and Ayda turned to face Adaine. She looked sincere, fiddling with her crystal necklace. “Desperately.”

“I’ll be your friend. Would you like to hold my frog?” From her bag, she produced a small, plush frog. It was as spherical as one could make a frog without it being unrecognizable. It was cuter than it had any reason to be.

“I don’t take presents. I have nothing to give in exchange.”

“It’s not a present. I need Boggy.” She held him out and slowly Ayda took the plush. He was soft and Ayda felt calmer holding him.

“Magnificent.” Ayda gave him back and turned to the shelf, one her eyes had been scampering away from. In the very back of the autobiography section was the second book, but this one was three composition notebooks glued together. Messily written on the front was the name Iggy Fathe.

“Why is that so hard to look at?”

“I do not know.” Ayda frowned, trying to keep her gaze pinned to the name. It looked… wrong. Like it was missing something and she couldn’t place what.

“Adaine! Ayda!” Kristen’s voice called out from the other side. “We got the box open!”

“Maybe someone else will be able to look at it.”

Back in the boiler room, they were all crowding around the box, looking at a bundle of papers along with a few pictures. The pictures were blurry, but not in a way that would indicate whoever was taking them had been bad at it. No, the pictures were just blurry to her eyes and it made her not want to interact with them.

“Here’s your letter. No one but you can read it. And maybe Adaine depending.”

“Adaine?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I’m the only one who can sort of read everyone else’s letters. I can’t make out much, but I did make out enough to get us here.”

“Impressive.” Ayda unfolded the bunded of papers and felt… odd. Like something in her shifted out of place and back. Not like the journal, but almost a feeling of nostalgia.

She picked one of the boxes and settled down to read her letter.

-

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

[transdonaldduck]

Parenting 101

Fandom: Ducktales 2017 Authors note: OC-centric, some backstory for Nancy and Donalds friendship! Word count: 3000 ish

Summary: Nancy Pluckley meets Donald Duck at the community center, in room 5B, during a free parenting seminar. Things get better.

Her car is a cobbled together pickup truck her grandpa gave her two years before she turned sixteen and one year before he passed away in his sleep. There’s duct tape holding on the bumper from where she knicked the wall at the mcdonalds drive through and there’s so many stickers slapped on the back it might as well be considered a driving hazard for those behind her. She’d had it for four years now, though, and she never wanted to give it up, even as it whines and sputters and groans and attracts all sorts of attention as she pulls into the nice and tidy beige building in front of her.

Here’s the thing about your parents dying suddenly and unexpectedly in a boating accident: no one really tells you how to raise the toddler they left behind. Yes, you may love her and you may want to do anything for her, but there’s no field guide to deal with trauma and grief and a 3 year old who still asks when mommy is coming to pick her up. So sometimes you have to scour the library for parenting books and look through you moms phone to find her pediatrician and even pull up to the community center in a beat up old truck you don't want to part with but know you have to because the car-seat won't fit in it properly to take a parenting class you desperately need. No one told you to do it, but you have to anyway.

She grabs the flyer from her glovebox, scanning the paper again to compare the time and date just to be sure she hadn’t gotten anything mixed up despite the fact that she’d tripled checked already before she hops out of her car. She feels almost ridiculously young, trailing into the room after couples holding hands and smiling all soft and pretty like at each other, probably all in their mid to early 20s, looking eager and prepared. None of them are carrying a college-ruled notebook or a pencil, she notes with slight embarrassment, shuffling her old school supplies under her arm. There's different tables set up around the room, a lot of the young couples are already hogging the front seats and Nancy can’t blame them for that, if she’d gotten here earlier she might have snagged one of those herself. Or any seat at all, since it seems she’d straggled so much she was left with slim pickings, hurrying to a seat near the back she practically fell into the chair, slapping her notebook in front of her and checking her phone the moment she could dig it out of her bag.

No notifications, which meant Evie was behaving so far. Evie- Evelyn- was her little sister, and Nancy had bartered with her coworker Amanda to babysit while she took this class. She’d cover her shift on Saturday morning in exchange for her looking after Evie for the night. Amanda didn’t usually ask for a favor in return for babysitting, but Nancy always liked to offer since Amanda and her wife both worked such different schedules, and if Nancy covered her shift this saturday it meant she and her wife would have some quality time together with their own child. Evie could be a handful sometimes, and Amanda had instructions to call if she got too much and Nancy would come pick her up- so no notifications was a good sign. Hopefully.

She jumps about a foot in the air when the man next to her says something- she can’t really understand it, smiling at him nervously as she tries to decipher what he just said.

He must read it on her face because she offers her a tired smile and clears his throat, obviously taking extra time to try and enunciate, “Is this your first class?”

“Oh! Oh, um, yes.” She nods, smoothing down invisible imperfections on her notebook with an awkward laugh.

He’s an older gentleman, maybe early thirties or late twenties at the youngest, his head feathers are cut short and choppy as if he’d done it himself, and he’s got a kind looking face- and he looks tired, bags underneath his eyes, and even his smile seems thin and weary around the edges, but there’s this brightness in his eyes that Nancy almost envies. He looks worn out but happy, almost. A single father? “You seemed nervous, is all.” He explains, “Are you expecting?”

“Ah, no,” She shakes her head and feels her bun bobble with her, “It’s- My parents-” She sighs, “I was kinda… thrown into this whole... parenting thing. I’m taking care of my little sister, she’s 3.”

He nods as if things like this happen all the time, “I know the feeling, after my sister passed I took in her kids, they’re triplets- oh!” He fumbles through his pockets, pulling out his phone to show her pictures, “They’re 7 now, about to be 8. Huey, Dewey, and Louie.” He points to them each individually. It’s a class photo, the other children cropped out so it’s only his 3 kids all smiling at the camera and color coded red, blue, and green.

She slides her phone over to him and shows him her lock screen, “This is my sister, Evelyn. This photo is from a year ago when I took her to the state fair so it’s kind of old, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“She’s so small!” he coos, “I remember when the boys were that small! She’s 3 now, you said? You must have your hands full with a toddler.”

Sliding her phone back she shrugs, “I haven’t been taking care of her for very long, I guess I haven’t had the full experience yet. She still thinks this is a long sleepover and that our parents will come pick her up soon.”

His eyes soften, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He’s startlingly sincere, and she blinks at him before realizing she needs to respond, “Thank you, uh..?” she realizes halfway through she’d never caught his name.

“Donald Duck.” He introduces, “And you are?”

“Nancy Pluckley, It was nice meeting you.” with the conversation coming to a natural close, Nancy fiddles with her notebook, and checks her phone again. The instructor seemed to be running late.

“So…” She starts and he turns to look at her, “We’re in kinda the same boat. How long have you been taking care of your nephews?”

“Since before they hatched,” It looks like it hurts him to think about and Nancy immediately regrets asking.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” She rushes out, tucking loose hair behind the edge of her beak, “I’ve just never had someone who… gets it.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. It still hurts but I’ve mostly moved past it.” He smiled encouragingly at her, “Did you have anything you wanted to ask? I’ve gone through it all three times over.”

She spits it out before she can think twice, “Does it get better?”

“Oh, Nancy.” He says immediately, wincing at her and she drops her eyes to the table, suddenly very interested in the vulgar words scratched into the surface. She hears him take a deep breath, as if bracing himself, and then- “Yes, it gets better.” She jerks up, looking at him with wide eyes, “And that kind of sucks, And then it gets better again.” He admits.

Frowning, her eyebrows knitted together and she flattens her hands on the table, “What?”

“For me the hardest part… well, the grief was hard. Convincing myself to let go of the hope she would come back was harder, but I did it, and I raised her children even though it kind of felt like I wasn’t enough- and it was better… and then realizing I was doing an alright job… I’d replaced their mother, and that sucked.” it’s his turn to look down at the table, “and then it got better.” He says simply.

“But what if it never gets better? What If I feel like i’m not enough because it’s true?” She says miserably, running a palm through her hair.

Donald shrugs a little bit, leaning back in his chair, “Well… At least you’re there.”

She jolts, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I know, It’s kind of dark,” he says uneasily, “But take solace in the fact that you’re there, and that your sister has someone taking care of her who loves her with all her heart. You’re going to make mistakes, everyone does, but as long as you love her and do your best to raise her… she’ll turn out alright.”

“Also, if you can afford it, some therapy to deal with your grief in a healthy way will do wonders for your parenting.” He tacks on.

Dutifully, Nancy flips open the notebook and jots that down- he snorts out a startled chuckle and reaches over and takes the pen from her hand, scrawling his phone number in the margins of her paper, “text me if you need anything, Nancy. Maybe we can get the kids together for a play date! I’ll tell Louie not to involve Evelyn in any scams.”

Nancy huffs out a laugh, “I’d appreciate that.”

The instructor sweeps in right about then, tossing out apologies for her tardiness before the class starts in full swing. Nancy feels a little less silly about her notebook when she catches Donald making his own notes in his phone. The time seems to fly by and before she knows it, they’re being dismissed- it had been an informative class, and now she has a better grasp on the upcoming developmental milestones Evie was going to be hitting soon. She knew what to expect, and that was going to make all the difference- and Amanda hadn’t called about Evie all night, which meant she was being very good!

Nancy gathers up her things and bids a quick goodbye to Donald, eager to go pick up her sister- but when she goes to crank her car, there’s no roaring hum that lets her know her rust bucket is even trying to turn over. She tries a few more times, even lifts the hood to check out the engine with her limited knowledge- but it just looks like the whole thing has gone kaput.

Amanda's car was in the shop which meant she couldn’t come pick her up, and all her other friends couldn’t babysit because they were busy tonight… which meant she was stranded.

Unless…?

She flips open her notebook at stares at the number, hesitant to call. He’d seemed nice enough during class, but what kind of guy gives a girl half his age his number within 5 minutes of meeting her? It was getting dark fast, and Nancy decided she was willing to take the risk. It’s not like it would be any more dangerous than walking home, right? And he might not even say yes anyway.

She puts the number into her phone and, after one last moment of deliberation, calls him.

“Hello?” His voice isn’t easier to understand over the phone, but she’s used to it by this point.

“Hey, is this Donald? This is Nancy, from the parenting class.” She stalls, scuffing her flats on the asphalt, “Um, what’s up? Are you doing anything tonight?”

There’s a bewildered pause from his side, “Nancy, um, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not… you’re a teenager and I'm way too old- I don’t like you like that. You’re not my. type.” he says awkwardly, obviously struggling to word it so he doesn’t hurt her feelings.

She slaps a hand over her face, flushing from embarrassment- well, at least now she could be relatively confident he wasn’t a creep, “No! No- My car won’t start, and if it… wasn’t a huge imposition, I was wondering if I could have a ride? Just to my friends house, it’s not far at all!”

There’s another long pause, “...I don’t really know you all that well.” He says hesitantly.

“Yeah… that’s, um, fair.” She leans back against her truck and blows out a breath, “I’m sorry to bother you, I’ll just walk.”

“At this time of night?” He balks and she can hear the sound of his turn signal.

“Yeah, well, I can’t afford a cab.”

“I’ll come pick you up.” he tells her, “I’m only a minute or two away.”

She looks around in the dark, “I think I'm the only one still here, you’ll be able to see me.”

“Stay on the phone with me until I get there?”

Nodding, she gets back into her truck, “Yeah, thank you, I was starting to get a little nervous.”

“And you were going to walk…” He chides and sounds so much like a dad it makes her a little upset it’s not her dad on the other side.

The station wagon he pulls up in is almost as beat up as her truck, and it’s got wood panelling on the side that actually makes her snort at how dated it looks. It’s a bit dinged up as if he’s been on the wrong side of several fender benders and there’s obviously been some work done on the drivers side door, two slightly different colored ugly teal paints layered over each other in a patchwork paint job. He hangs up as she opens the drivers side door and shakes his head, holding his hand out to stop her.

“Go take a picture of my license plate and send it to your friend.”

“What?” She says blankly, not following.

“Everytime you get into a car with a stranger- and please let this be a one off sort of deal, alright?- take a picture of their license plate and send it to someone you trust. It’s a safety precaution.”

She does as she’s told, snapping a picture of it and sending it to Amanda with a quick text explanation before rounding her way back to the passenger seat, “Is there… a reason I needed to do that..?” She asks.

He shrugs a little, waiting for her to get in, “It’s a good habit to get in, it’s something I tell everyone to do if it's there first time riding with me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been kidnapped a few times.” He says it as if he’s telling her about the weather, “doing that would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

She stares at his with big eyes before all the pieces suddenly fall into place, “Oh.” She breathes, “You’re that Donald Duck.”

Immediately he looks uncomfortable, shoulders hunching, and his eyes cut sharply to the road, looking straight ahead, “...Yeah. That Donald Duck…”

She gets in, strapping her seatbelt and wisely drops the topic, “So Amanda's address is-”

There's a long silence, broken only by his GPS barking out directions.

“Sorry about everything that happened to you.” She finally bursts out, quickly hiding the fact that she’d just been scrolling through his wikipedia page. He smiles a little but it doesn’t reach his eyes and he offers her a small nod, “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you even at that parenting seminar? Can’t you just afford to take an actual class?”

“You didn’t get very far on the personal life section of my wiki, did you?” she blanches, rubbing a hand through her hair, “I was disowned by my Uncle after my sister disappeared, we’ve been estranged ever since and I haven't seen him since the accident. I’ve been cut off from any financial aid from him.” he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, “I’ve been doing fine on my own, for the most part- I had a good amount of savings and I usually have a job. Baby sitters are costing me a fortune though.”

Nancy groans in solidarity, “Tell me about it! Sometimes my friends will watch her, but when everyones busy and I need to work I have to get a babysitter too.”

“Here’s some advice- when she’s old enough, sign her up for junior woodchucks. They’ll usually have an after school program that runs that’ll give you some time to finish up your shift or go shopping before you need to pick her up. There are also older kids trying to earn their caretaker badges- screen them and you’re good to go on a free babysitter for the night.”

“You’re like a wizard.” She admires, crossing her arms.

He rolls his eyes, “Please don’t say that within earshot of my Uncle.”

“What’s he got against wizards?”

“Everything.” Donald says, pulling up at the curb to Amanda's house, “Here we are.”

She nods a little bit, “Listen, um, thank you, Donald. I was in a tight spot back there. If you ever need something, I owe you one.”

He waved her off before she even finishes her sentence, “Not necessary,” He dismisses her offer simply, “I know how it is. You still have my number, right? You Can call if you ever need anything.”

“Yeah… just. Thanks again.” She gets out then, closing the door behind her and backing away. She waves at him a little bit before she finally turns around and heads inside.

Evie screams her name the moment she opens the door and then dive-bombs off the couch and into her arms. Nancy laughs and thanks her quick reflexes that she didn’t drop her, swinging her around a little bit.

“Glad you’re not murdered.” Amanda laughs a little bit, putting down her book, “How’d it go? Is he cute?”

“Ew, he’s like, 40.” Nancy giggles, carrying Evie to the couch, “And he wasn’t a weirdo, either.” She tosses her onto the cushions, “Why don’t you go get your stuff ready, boog? Miss Janie will be home soon and then Miss Amanda will be able to take us home.”

“Don’t say ew! I’m 40 and I am not ‘ew!’” Amanda admonishes as Evie runs off.

Nancy isn’t sure why she doesn’t divulge Donalds true identity, it just seems… rude to tell. Regardless, she’s pretty sure she might actually take him up on his offer to set up a play date between Evie and the triplets. It was nice talking with someone who really understands her situation.

And if she can wring some single-parent advice from him, well, she’ll take what she can get.