#everything i said here seems very obvious to me i also scraped this cause i felt like it didnt need to be pointed out

[bonejunky6669]

i really don't see harrow ever choosing alecto over gideon. harrows love for alecto seems much more akin to worship- a religious fanatic obsessed with the beauty and ethereal energy of the thing inside the tomb she has worshiped all her life. she also only knows alecto as a corpse and a hallucination, she doesn't know her as a person. harrows love for gideon has been a life-long endeavor full of struggle and conflict and intimacy and shared pain. it is human. they work because they are both so incredibly flawed and they can connect through those flaws. their initial hatred for each other stems from the fact that they know too much about one another. harrow and gideon's relationship is sustainable because it has already survived through so much. i don't see harrow and alecto lasting. not to mention the fact that harrow lobotomized and tortured herself and went to the ends of the earth to get gideon back. even if she doesn't see it herself, she loves gideon more than anyone else in the universe including alecto

[black-dragon1998]

Stoic keeper and sick girl chapter 4

Summary: (Y/n) and Lexa tell the team everything and emotions surface.

Also, COVID19 doesn’t exist in this fic!

warnings:  Talking about cancer. if this is a trigger don’t read. Everything mentioned is from my own experience as may not apply to everybody.

Talk about past trauma’s and shitty childhood.

part 1 -part 2- part 3

Waking into the dining room you noticed it was still rather empty. The only ones who were already there were Alex, Kelley at one table and Alyssa at another. Alyssa was probably the safer one to sit at. The younger ones would probably want to joke with Kelley and move around a lot, Alyssa most nights stayed at her table and was one of the most rational people on the team.

The blond keeper looked up when you neared with a nervous Lexa. You tried to reassure her with a hand on her shoulder as you let her closer to the table.

“Alyssa I like you to meet Lexa. Lexa this is one of my many good friends, Alyssa Naether. I know she looks scary but she is a big softy inside.” You introduce. Alyssa rolls her eyes at you but introduces herself to the girl. She could see that the girl was relaxed around you.

“it’s nice to meet you, Lexa.” Lexa doesn’t say anything but does give Alyssa a little nod so the keeper took that as a win.

“is it okay if the two of us sit with you? That way she can take off her facemask and eat in peace.” You ask Alyssa, who looks a bit confused at your panicked state. Normally you were far more relaxed with her.

“sure.” She said trying to reassure you with her eyes. If you were freaking out then it has to be pretty serious about what you had to tell or what was going on. The only thing she could do was support you.

“sure.” Alyssa tried to reassure you with her eyes and a kind smile.

“Thanks, Lyss, you’re the best.” You beamed the keeper with your best smile as you put Lexa’s bottle down on the table and lead Lexa toward the food.

“come on Lexa let’s go see if they're in anything you like.” you tried to stay optimistic, you knew how hard it could be to eat when everything you smelled or saw tasted disgusting. Even too today you had days you couldn’t swallow anything and had to fall back on meal replacement shakes.

Throughout the whole buffet, there was nothing Lexa seemed to fancy at the end you sighted, Lexa looked up with a small face.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered under her breath, your heart broke. It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t feeling like eating.

“hey, you don’t have to be sorry about this okay. I will talk with the trainers, normally they have some shakes for me when I don’t feel like eating. I will get you to try one-off those okay. Maybe a cola.” She shakily nods looking down at the floor. Taking her chin between two fingers you make her look up at you.

“say it to me.” Your voice is stern but comforting. You don’t want her to live in the constant fear of disappointing you. You give her an encouraging smile.

“I have nothing to be sorry about.” She told you. Not as confidently as you liked but it was a start. You lead her back to the table and tell her you will be back. Taking her sports bottle with you to fill with some cola.

Alyssa watched as you placed the little girl on the chair in front of her and reassured her that you wouldn’t be gone long. Alyssa had never seen you this tender.

Like the rest of the team, Alyssa had questions, after the end of the game. You had disappeared just after the final whistle had been blown and they had found you thirty minutes in the trainer's locker room with a little kid. When Ali and Christen had tried talking to you, you had given them some very specific orders that the girls couldn’t place. Now seeing the girl in front of her with the face mask and bandana with baseball cap those question only rang louder but they were for later.

“Hey, Lexa.” Alyssa tried to get the girls attention by calling her. Het girl looked up at the keeper with big uncertain eyes.

“Don’t you want anything to eat?” Alyssa asked pointing to her empty plate. All Lexa did was shake her head and look down at the table. Alyssa decided to drop it not wanting until you got back, it was clear you had a connection with the little girl.

 The silence in the room was broken when more of the team dripped into the dining room and when more of the younger players it even became rowdy and Lexa flinched at every harsh sound and hoped you would come back fast.

 You returned to the dining room with Lexa’s sports bottle filled with cola and one of your shakes. After doing the whole story to Vlatko he had promised to help you with the legal papers and that set up an appointment with your doctor for tomorrow and one for yourself also.

After the whole ordeal, you felled exhausted, all the emotions of the day catching up to you and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Emily spotted you halfway through the room and strode toward you. Like the rest of the team, she had heard about the kid and had seen her with Alyssa. No one of the younger players dared to approach in fear of the older keeper.

“hey (Y/N) how’s the little squirt doing,” Emily asked hoping you would spill something but you weren’t int the mood to talk to anybody.

“buzz off Sonnett.” You growl not being able to contain your frustration and exhaustion. The conversation with Vlatko was a heavy one. Now the stress of getting your blood draw tomorrow was causing extra stress. You had awful veins and you dreaded it.

Emily was taken back by your tone, normally it took you a lot more to rile you up.

“wow, what got your panties in a twist?” Emily tried to lighten your mood.

The conversation between you and Sonnett had drawn the attention of the rest of the team. You could already see Ali and Ash make their way toward you.

Lexa had gotten of her chair and was running toward you, she could see how stressed you were and she wanted to help because you always helped her.

“(Y/N)!” Lexa grabbed your hand tried to give it a reassuring squeeze but because of her weakened state, it wasn’t hard and also tried to give you a reassuring smile. You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry, how could a child that had gone through all she had to be still so compassionate. Sinking through your knees make you almost eye level with her.

This caused all the veterans to immediately come running toward you while the younger players just watched. There was a small panic going around the team, you never showed emotions so openly.so I kind of freaked them out. Even though you hadn’t shed a single tear you looked exhausted.

“I’m okay Lexa. Thank you.” You whisper to the girl, looking at her gave you enough courage to scrape yourself together and lead her back to the table. When she sat down you handed her the coke and shake, which looked at sceptically but opened it when you told her it tasted like strawberries. After the sip, she takes another and another.

 When the team decided you have ignored them enough they send Ali and Ash to talk to you. Seeing as they had the best track record with you.

You could feel their eyes burning into your back and it was just a matter of time before they tried to talk to you. For the moment you just watched Lexa enjoy her shake.

“your friends are staring at us,” Lexa commented looking at you from under her cap. She looks cute with one of your caps and hoodie.

“I know. They will come over here any moment to talk. They like to do that. You want to tell them?” you would leave the choice to her, it’s her life and you would support her either way.

“I want to stay with you.” She confesses looking up at you with big eyes. It makes you happy she felled secure with you.

“I know that sweety but that doesn’t mean I am forcing you to tell them. I’m not going to force you to tell them anything you don’t want to.” You assure her.

“But I want to be honest with them.”

“well if you are brave enough maybe I could half as brave and do the same.” You stroke her cheek and smile at her. Krashlyn took that moment to interrupt you.

“What should you tell us?” Ashlyn asked while she and Ali sit down in front of you before you look up you catch Lexa’s eye.

“ready little warrior.” She gives you a simple nod. Turning to the couple and try to give them a reassuring smile.

“Lexa and I have to tell you all something.” Suddenly a lot of voices started talking. Asking what it was and how you met Lexa. You cut through it with a sharp whistle and instruct them all to take a seat and listen. You had never seen them sit down so fast and be shut up, maybe you should try that whistle more.

“you want to tell them first?” Lexa swallowed hard before she looked up at the soccer players.

“okay guy’s this is Lexa I met her today after the game, after talking to her I have decided to become her legal guardian. Vlatko is helping me with the papers.” You pause for the information to sink in but not long enough for chaos to break out.

“wait with the questions and judgment until after Lexa and I have done our story.” You gave Lexa a reassuring smile while glaring at your teammates. Lexa grabs your hand for support.

“I have leukaemia and (Y/N) had promised to stay with me so I don’t have to do the therapy alone. I hate being alone in the hospital and she makes me feel safe.” The weight of the word behind the childlike didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Many of the soccer players in front of you had unshed tears in their eyes. After her story, Lexa buries her face into your shoulder. Hugging her back in return almost seemed like second nature.

“you were so brave, little warrior. I’m so proud of you.” You Lexa while hugging her close. When I was obvious she wouldn’t be say anything more.

“I saw Lexa in the stands alone and could immediately tell what the problem was. A couple of kids were picking on her for it, that is when I decided to step in and take her inside with me, I didn’t know how bad her immune system was so I didn’t want to take any chances. Tomorrow both of us have to go to the hospital for a blood test. Then I can tell how much resistance she is against bacteria.” You explain stroking Lexa’s back soothing her and trying to minimize her stress.

“why would they be picking on her?” Christen asks, not understanding why Lexa would be bullied. You have to chuckle at their childlike innocence, most never had to deal with people looking at them weird or shinning them for being different.

“Because people are A-holes, who mistreat everything that is different and not to normal standards.” You grith out between clenched teeth, memories from your past resurfacing. You still remember the stares and the whispers from when you were in a wheelchair because you were to weak to walk. People were far less subtle than they thought they were.

“yes, they are.” Lexa agrees with you while climbing in your lap to hug you. You figured all the emotions and exhaustion were getting to her, so you drab your arms around her so she can rest a bit.

 The whole team looks at you shocked at how soft you are with the little girl. They had never seen you so soft. Some of the veterans were concerned when you told them you were becoming this little girls guardian, to team standards you were still a baby. Only being a couple of months older than Tierna but seeing you like this changed their minds. Also, an unspoken promise was going through the group, they would help you in any way they could.

Taking a deep breath you looked at your team, who were watching you and Lexa with big eyes. Now was as good a time as any to drop your own bomb, hoping that having Lexa with you will lessen the yelling they were going to do.

“There is something I want to tell you guys,” you speak before losing your nerves, freaking out internally. What if they start treating you differently? What if they start looking at you with pity?

Well, you couldn’t go back now.

“There is another reason I stepped out into the crowd today. I saw a lot of myself in Lexa. Because I also had leukaemia as a kid. Twice actually.” Gasp go through the group moments before questions are fired at you.

“(Y/N) sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us?” Ali asks coming closer so she can give you a reassuring smile and doesn’t scare you away.

“This is the only place I feel normal.” You confess not looking up at your team.

“it’s tough being a kid with leukaemia, people treat you different when they know. I was diagnosed for the first time when I was six. You are forced to grow up mentally and emotionally so fast sometimes you forget you are only a kid. I learned to put things into perspective fast, fearing you are not going to going to make it to the next day makes other kids tantrums banal in comparison. This caused me to stick out around my peers and made it hard to make friends. Not that it bothered me that much at that age, I was in the hospital a lot. You take a moment to take a couple of breath before you continue.

“Football is something I love and I didn’t want to be treated differently because of it. That is the big reason I didn’t tell anybody.” A lot of the woman around you are crying or holding each other for comfort. Lexa tightened her hold on you.

The silence in the room is heavy buy familiar. Most people didn’t know what to say after you told them so you decided to let them process everything first before they had to speak to you.

“Alright, that is enough emotions for one day. I’m taking Lexa back to my room so she can rest.” Getting up you grab her sports bottle with you while making your way to the elevator with Lexa in your arms.

taglist:

@superbscissorsdeanexpert  

[miss-melon]

Hiyaa may i request a scenario nagito with a reader who confesses during conversation and doesnt realize they did and just keep talking

Hi anon! This request is soooo cute! Of course I’ll write it for you!

REQUEST: Accidental Confession with Nagito

It was another day at school, another painfully boring yet overwhelming day. Your homework was piling up, your friends were hanging out without you, the school lunch sucked, and you had gotten yelled at by your teacher for no reason AGAIN. But, there was one good thing that came out of today, and that was that you had gotten paired up to work on a project with your long-time best friend and crush, Nagito Komaeda.

Nagito had been your ride or die for as long as you can remember, ever since you two were young kids. You two were also pretty different from one another. You could be rather impulsive and tended to act on your emotions. While Nagito was almost always thinking everything through before making a decision. More often than not, he was your voice of reason. Constantly having to remind you not to overwork yourself, or reminding you not to take too much to heart. He was honestly your rock.

You first started developing feelings for the boy during elementary school. He was all you really had, and whenever you needed help, he was the first person by your side. The first time you remember noticing your feelings towards Nagito was during gym class in third grade. The two of you were running for track and you tripped over your shoelace. You had scraped your knee pretty badly and it hurt quite a bit, so you sat there and cried. I mean, what else were you supposed to do? You were just a kid after all.

It was while you were crying that Nagito rushed over to help. “Oh Y/N! You’re hurt!” He exclaimed. The only response you could muster up was a few choked sobs followed by the continuous waterfall of tears pouring from your eyes. “Oh my, please don’t cry Y/N! It’ll be okay! I know this might seem difficult, but I know that someone as hopeful as you can overcome any amount of despair! Now c’mon, let’s get you to the nurse!” He helped you up and took you to the nurses office, it was that day that you developed a crush on Nagito Komaeda, your best friend.

But many years later, that crush developed into full on love. This guy meant everything to you. And now you were partnered up with him for a school project, the butterflies in your stomach were very intense. Nagito was reading a few news articles for research while you were writing down the most important things he found in the articles. You didn’t even notice that you had made several typos in your project, that is, until Nagito spoke up.

“Um... Y/N? Are you doing alright? That’s your fifth typo already.” Nagito asked sounding rather concerned. He always knew when something was up with you. “O-oh sorry Nagito... I’ve just been really stressed out lately.” You told him, trying to hide the obvious blush that was painted across your face. “What’s been causing you this kind of stress? I don’t know how much someone like me can help, but I’ll always be here to listen to you Y/N.” Nagito said sweetly. You began to rant to him about your day.

“Well for starters, I forgot to make my coffee this morning, none of my friends will talk to me anymore, the school lunch tasted like shit, Ms. Harris keeps yelling at me, I don’t know how or when I’ll ever confess my feelings towards you-” Nagito’s head rose slightly as you continued your rambling, he had lost focus of what you were talking about because he couldn’t believe what just happened. YOU just confessed to HIM? And you didn’t even seem to notice! You continued talking like nothing happened! “And to top it all off, I have 24 missing assignments for my classes.” You finished your rant, not realizing what you had just done.

“S-so Y/N... ahah... um...” Nagito for once was at a loss for words, to which you were confused. “What’s wrong Nagito?” You asked, genuinely having no clue what you just did. “Is it true Y/N? Do you actually have... feelings for me? Feelings that you haven’t confessed yet?” Nagito asked you with a look of confusion. Suddenly your face flashed a bright red color. You just realized what you’ve done. “AAAAHHH!!!! UM- WELL- Y’SEE- UM-” After about a minute of you stuttering while trying to come up with an excuse, you eventually let out a sigh and gave in.

“Y-yes Nagito... I-I really... REALLY like you... I have for a long time now...” You said with your head hung low. You two sat there in silence for a long time until you felt two arms wrap around your body. You looked up and saw that Nagito was hugging you. When he pulled away from the hug he put both hands on your shoulders and looked at you. “Well Y/N... I will never understand why someone as... beautiful and hopeful as you would develop feelings for someone as... worthless and hopeless as me... but I do reciprocate your feelings, I always have! For as long as I can remember, I’ve found you to be perfect in every way, the one true shining hope in this dull world. What I’m trying to say, Y/N is that... I-I love you...” Nagito said smiling.

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. Your lifelong crush and best friend loved... YOU? This almost felt too good to be true, like a fairytale moment of sorts. You were just so incredibly happy that the one person who could make you feel this way, felt the same way about you. You just couldn’t contain yourself. You pounced into Nagito’s lap and his reflexes caused him to catch you, he held you in his lap for a couple seconds before you gave Nagito a passionate kiss on the lips, a kiss that was returned with an intense amount of love and adoration. This was the beautiful start of your lifelong relationship with your best friend, Nagito Komaeda. A relationship born from a bond. A bond that was formed by hope.

THE END.

_______________________________________________

Thank you so much for this request! It was super fun to write! This turned out way longer than I intended it to be so I hope you liked it!

[sunjaesol]

juke | human au | title: fearless // taylor swift

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As they were walking up the front lawn of her childhood home, nerves wrecked her body. Even her hand, snug in Luke's, felt clammy and sweaty and suffocating. God, this was such a mistake — going home, not him. He didn't even realise what he had gotten himself into by falling for the youngest darling of the matriarch.

Or rather, she shouldn't have fallen head over heels for the swoon-worthy Luke Patterson, but she never really stood a chance.

But everything had happened so fast! One second banter easily flowed between them, warm and easy flirtatiousness without consequences, the next she was at IKEA helping him pick out a bookshelf while he somehow knew whenever she needed pizza and a good cuddle. They were very much in a committed relationship, something the Molina women very much frowned upon.

It wasn't as if they were all deeply scared of love and relationships, but the Molina family was a matriarchy. All women raised families on their own, no man to help. Divorced, cheated on, died, a donor, infertile and therefore adopting children — men were of zero priority.

So, coming home with her boyfriend whom she deeply loved? Definitely a risk. She was surprised he was still standing, that she hadn't scared him enough yet.

Spinning on her heels in front of the door, she shot him an anxious smile. "Are you... sure you wanna do this? We're, like, really intense."

Luke smiled, tender. "Do I wanna meet the family of my girlfriend? 'Course I do." When her expression didn't change, he added, "Jules, just 'cause they all did the 'no guy' thing, doesn't mean you have to follow that, right? And I'm not scared."

Oh, God. His courage was as admirable as it was stupid.

She chuckled, antsy. "You haven't met my mom though."

His smile widened as he dipped down to kiss her, gently, hands caressing her cheeks. For a moment, stress fled her system.

But then the door flew open.

"There you are!" Mom exclaimed, a glass of red wine in one hand and music booming over her shoulder. "And is this the boy toy?"

"Mom!" Julie grumbled, embarrassed to be caught kissing (God, she's twenty-three!) as well as putting Luke in a bad position.

First impression of him: seeing him kiss her beloved daughter on the doorstep. Great.

"Hi," Luke said, dazzling her with a smile while he stuck his hand out. "I'm Luke. And I'm, uh, older? So..."

"Meh," Rose trailed, lamely shaking his hand. "Still a boy toy. Anyway, come in! Food's warm!"

Following her mom inside, Luke shot her a strange look, like it was only registering now all her tall tales were, well, true. Shrugging with a sheepish grin, she placed their shoes and jackets in the wall closet and then made the agonising trek to the loud, jumbled chatter.

As expected, all the California-based Molina women were present. Which meant ten, including her, all staring at Luke like he was a weird specimen. Her hand squeezed his beneath the table in support, and he was finally squeezing back just as tightly.

Was it bad she felt some sick pleasure he understood how fucked he was? Probably. It seemed warranted.

When everyone had their plates filled, the interrogation began.

"So, Luke, how old are you?" Victoria asked.

"Twenty-five."

"Going around town with a twenty-three year old?" She sniffed. "Interesting..."

"Do you have any siblings?" Donna inquiried.

A wry grin ticked up his lips, sensing the irony of the situation. "I, uh, I'm an only child, actually. Mostly raised by my dad, 'cause my mom worked long hours."

Shoving a fork of meatloaf in her mouth, Julie withheld a guttural wince at his words. Luke Patterson was the poster child of everything the Molina's didn't like and she brought him in their cave.

"What do you do for a living?" Abuela croaked, peering intensely.

His smile didn't falter, but instead widened. "I'm in a band, but I also bartend a couple of nights a week."

"A band, huh?" Mom leaned forward, intrigued. "Has Julie told you I used to be in a band?"

"How can I not, mom?" Rolling her eyes, Julie added, "You'd tell him anyway..."

"I was in The Petal Pushers, the best protest punk-rock feminist group of the 90s." Her fist punched in the air as she spoke and Julie could imagine the fingerless leather gloves and purple streaks as she did. "What kinda... band do you have?"

Her endearing Luke didn't read the warning signs humble himself, so he enthusiastically perched himself at the end of his chair as he said, "Punk-rock too, actually! Yeah, we're really killing it right now at all the clubs."

She smirked. "I'm sure you do."

"What are your plans with Julie?" Elena asked, one of her cousins.

Both her and Luke froze at that. Shit. That... was not something they've discussed. A relationship of seven months was still pretty fresh, not ready for a confrontational talk about futures and plans.

He scraped his throat, briefly let his gaze flicker to her, and then uttered, "I'm, uh, a one day at a time kinda guy."

Julie cringed, not hiding it this time. To her, it was an alright, albeit lame answer. But to her family? Horrible. So, so horrible. Gah, she had to put an end to this!

Abuela scoffed, nearly choking on her hard seltzer. "One day? At a time? What is this, the 70s? My little girl deserves more than carpe diem!"

Mimi hissed. "Wrong, wrong answer, boy toy."

The questions kept shooting at lightning speed, each one more outrageous than the other, while Julie's grip on her fork tightened and tightened in anger.

"How many times a week do you shower?"

"What's your least favourite colour?"

"Do you pick up women? Is that how you make extra money?"

"What's your view on children?"

"Can you handle spice?"

"How did you even find our darling, huh? Did you lure her into that bar of yours?"

"Is Luke short for Lukas, or Lucrative?"

"Alright, enough!" Julie screamed, standing up with a stomp of the foot.

A hush crossed the table, aghast and surprised, her mother perpetually amused as always (too many in drugs in the 90s, she presumed) while Abuela feigned to be sleeping. 'Resting her eyes' would likely be the excuse.

"This is insane! Stop acting like this and start treating Luke with a little respect!"

From the corner of her eye, she vaguely noted he was staring at her, gobsmacked. He did well, given the circumstances, but she couldn't just idly sit there and let him take all this shit.

Mom puffed, leaning back in her chair. "We haven't been disrespectful, Julie."

"You have, mom! Can't I just have a boyfriend without—"

"We've invited him," she interrupted. "That's enough of a courtesy."

And before Julie could fire back, furious beyond belief, Rose added, "You know how the Molina cookie crumbles, honey. No men stay. Not for long, anyway."

That smug response made her explode. "Mom! Can you just for once—?!"

"I love her though," Luke quipped, shy.

The fight halted instantly, all ten women gawking at him like he just spoke a new language.

And he did, to Julie at least. Luke loved her? Even after all of this? She obviously knew he wasn't impartial to her, those seven months equalling tenderness and partnership like nothing she's ever experienced before, but... love? He was in love with her?

How could she abide by the 'Molina Women Rule!' rules when he confessed that, no hesitation or stutter heard?

And so, Julie's heart melted. "You love me?"

"Of course, I do," he whispered. "Why else would I be here?"

Elena nodded, sympathetic. "Good point."

Unable to stop her smile from becoming a dazzling, lovesick beam, she repeated his words with as much conviction as she could muster. "I love you too, Luke."

Abuela shot up from her sleep with a cough and a snicker. "Yeah, right."

Mom waved her glass around, congratulating them. For the first time tonight, her tone held kindness instead of poorly veiled contempt. "That's very sweet, Luke. Tell me in seven more months how you're feeling then."

Though Julie couldn't expect her to suddenly change her ways. Damn.

Mimi scowled. "We're letting 'I'm a one day at a time kinda guy' slide?"

Disgruntled chatter rose again, and that was her cue to go. Tapping Luke's shoulder, she mouthed home — something she hadn't done before and wasn't sure which apartment she meant either, but it left flutters in her chest regardless — and he nodded in understanding.

Oh, God. He loved her. That still hadn't set in.

"And if you'll excuse us, me and Luke are going," Julie continued. "Thanks for dinner, mom."

The woman laughed, baring all her teeth. She clearly had a fun time. "See you at Victoria's birthday, mi amor. And Luke? Who knows!"

He forced a chuckle at her remark. Awkwardly bouncing on his heels, he waved at all the ladies. "It was really cool to meet you all. Now– now I know why Julie's so incredible. So... thanks." A true smile appeared. "This was great."

No one said anything after that. Abuela gurgled her drink and her cousins prodded at their leftovers, mom peering at her like she was trying to find something. Sometimes, Julie and Rose were so alike, and other times, they were complete strangers. She liked that. It kept dinners like these exciting, she supposed. Mom seemed to think the same.

They bid goodbye one last time with a kiss on the cheek, and then they hurried out the door. A giggling breath left as the cool wind hit her skin. Luke was buzzing with adrenaline, unable to keep his limbs still.

Clambering in her car, the comforting quietude wrapped around them as the doors slammed shut. A beat passed. No one spoke.

"What the fuck," he whispered, horrified. "What the fuck. What the fuck did just happen? What the fuck—"

Julie squealed. "You love me!"

"That's what you got from that?!"

"Of course!" Her arms curled around him, teasing. "You love me!"

"That shouldn't be the most surprising thing tonight, Jules," he grumbled, though a playful shimmer sparked within his beautiful eyes. "I thought I was, y'know, obvious."

She shrugged, bashful. "It's always nice to hear, no?"

"Oh, man," he sighed, eyes flickering across her face as though he couldn't decide what to focus on, as though she was indescribably stunning. Her heart swelled tenfold at the thought. "I love you, Julie. So fucking much. Even with your crazy family."

Laughing, she reached forward and kissed his lips, fingers pressing in his neck and their silly grins preventing them from deepening the warm touch.

"Let's go," he mumbled, noses nudging, eyes hooded and pouring with the love she somehow hadn't noticed before. "Before they're ready for round two."

But before he could move away, she kissed him again, better this time, and cherished his sigh when they slowly seperated.

"I love you too," she whispered. "Like, a lot."

He grinned, breathless. "Good to know."

Victoria's birthday was four months later, and Luke attended as well. And also for Mimi and Elena and mom and Abuela and Donna and every other Molina member. And when Julie got surprised with a 24th birthday party, she figured out Luke and mom combined their powers to host it.

Molina women were independant and lived life by their own rules... which included Julie.

Loving Luke Patterson unconditionally probably made her the most unique Molina of all.

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@bluefirewrites @blush-and-books @ourstarscollided @thedeathdeelers @pink-flame @constantly-singing @willexx @unsaid-emily

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 6/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage with all the shenanigans, and what comes after the wedding? Why, the honeymoon, of course. This got long, so I had to cut it, and, uh...sorry not sorry in advance for where it ends ;) (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3, chapter 5 tumblr | AO3)

Weddings, though usually happy affairs for the couple and families involved, always bring with them a certain amount of disappointment. Disappointment for suitors who find themselves spurned; disappointment for distant relatives hoping to inherit; and disappointment, perhaps most of all, for you, dear readers, as they usually signal the end of a scandal. 

It is thus with a somewhat heavy heart that this Author reports that the wedding between the Marquess of Enjolras and Adélaïde Grantaire has occurred without complication and with seemingly little fanfare. They were wed in a small, private ceremony with two of Mr. Grantaire’s household attendants as witnesses. And, assumedly, Mr. Grantaire himself, though interestingly, this Author has it on good authority that his is not one of the signatures on the marriage certificate as an official witness. An unusual move, to be sure, but nothing about this particular wedding can be otherwise described as usual.

In any case, friends and family alike await the Marquess’ return to the city, though no one seems to have any idea when that event may occur. The Earl of Courfeyrac was overheard lamenting to Viscount Prouvaire that none of their friends were invited or even informed of the wedding before reading it in this very column. Even more unusual than not standing as witness to one’s sister’s wedding may indeed be not informing one’s closest friends of one’s pending nuptials, especially when said nuptials are surrounded by scandal.

Perhaps this illustrates why the Marquess has not yet returned – between his mother and his friends, he is certain to have quite a bit of explaining to do. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 7 MAY 1831 

Dinner following the wedding was an understated affair, nothing like the grand feast that Enjolras was certain his mother would have planned had this been a real wedding. And while he and Grantaire carried on their conversation as if nothing much had happened that day, he couldn’t help but feel that something between them had shifted, something he could not quite find the name to but which left him feeling unmoored.

As the evening drew to a close and both men finished their after-dinner drinks (a rather hefty glass of whiskey for Grantaire, a roughly thimbleful amount of cognac for Enjolras, and only grudgingly because they were ‘celebrating’), Enjolras felt like he needed to say something, though he wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the topic.

As usual, he picked the worst possible way.

“What you said earlier,” he started as they headed upstairs from the library, and Grantaire paused, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at Enjolras, clearly waiting for an explanation of what Enjolras could possibly be referring to, and Enjolras flushed slightly before elaborating, “about the wedding night.”

Grantaire straightened, his expression evening out. “A joke, of course,” he assured Enjolras, before adding, with just a hint of a smirk, “After all, I’m not a lord, so I’m not entitled to Primae Noctis.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “That so-called right is apocryphal at best,” he huffed, irritation spiking at the thought of any member of the nobility claiming some kind of right to rape a subject. “Besides which, wouldn’t it only entitle you to sleep with your sister?”

Again, possibly the worst way to continue the conversation, but Grantaire just winked at him. “That’s what you think.”

Despite himself, Enjolras blushed and looked away before clearing his throat. “Rights to the wedding night notwithstanding, I don’t believe I said it earlier today, so thank you. For...everything.”

He hoped he wouldn’t need to elaborate, not because he was incapable of enumerating the great many ways Grantaire had been of service to him in recent days but because he suspected Grantaire was in a mood to turn anything he said into a joke.

To his surprise, Grantaire did not joke in response, instead frowning slightly as he paused at the top of the stairs where they were set to part to attend to their individual bedchambers. “There is no need to thank me,” he told Enjolras. “I would do the same for any of our friends.”

“Would you?” Enjolras asked, more rhetorically than anything, because he suspected they both knew that the answer was contrary to Grantaire’s words. “I asked you once, before, why you were doing this. You did not answer me then, but I thought, given everything that has happened today, you might answer me now.”

Grantaire sighed. “Enjolras—” he started, but Enjolras just shook his head.

“Why did you do all this?”

“Because…” Grantaire trailed off, something unreadable crossing his face, and before Enjolras could so much as blink, he had closed the space between them, reaching up to cup Enjolras’s cheek with one hand, the other closing around Enjolras’s cravat.

And then he kissed him.

This was not the simple pressing of lips together of before, the fumbling move Enjolras had made at the wedding. This was like a fire that seemed to sear through Enjolras from the moment their lips touched, an electricity that sparked an absolute awareness of how Grantaire’s body pressed against his, and above all else, an overwhelming and inexplicable desire to pull Grantaire even closer, to rid themselves of the fabric that were the final barriers between them, or to—

But before Enjolras could react or respond in kind, Grantaire pulled away, looking horrified. “I am sorry, my lord,” he gasped, and there was no trace of his usual joking in his use of the title. “I should not have – forgive me.”

And without another word, he disappeared into his bedchamber, leaving Enjolras standing alone in the hallway, more confused than ever.

----------

Enjolras did not generally consider himself a vain man, but there were a number of things about himself that he took pride in, one of which was his intellect. There was not usually a puzzle that he encountered which he could not decipher, or, at the very least, develop a treatise on the tools needed so that the masses could decipher the puzzle.

But Grantaire was an enigma. Had always been, from the moment they had met, Enjolras a serious boy barely on the verge of manhood, Grantaire a seldom-serious man who, as Enjolras had recently learned, had left boyhood behind long before their meeting. Where Enjolras could understand each of his friends’ motivations, the driving forces that had led them to their group, he had never understood why Grantaire joined them and a cause in which he harbored no belief, and even less why he had stayed over the years.

And yet despite their numerous arguments, the shouting matches that caused the walls to shake or even just the bickering that peppered most of their conversations, he had never once made Grantaire leave.

He understood his reasons for that least of all.

Of course, his kiss with Grantaire, and Grantaire’s reaction to it, might beat it out for things he didn’t understand. Either of his kisses with Grantaire, he realized, since he had also kissed him during the wedding ceremony, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever understand his reasoning for doing that either.

Enjolras stared up at his ceiling, having woken far too early after a fitful sleep the night before. He did not like having a puzzle he could not solve on his hands, especially when he was stuck in said puzzle’s house, far from anything that might put them on some semblance of equal footing.

The longer he stared at the ceiling, the more it became clear to him that if he was going to figure this out, it required a change of scenery for both him and Grantaire, a chance to start anew, so to speak, and see what new developments would emerge. 

And there was only one way he could think of to do so.

“I was thinking of leaving,” Enjolras announced at the breakfast table when he had finally deemed the hour late enough for him to arise. He had been strangely gladdened to see that Grantaire also looked tired, as if he too had not slept well the previous night.

Not that the thought of Grantaire not sleeping well should gladden him, but it was at least a small sign that he was not alone in being affected by the events of the previous day.

Grantaire went very still at Enjolras’s words. “Oh?” he asked, in what to Enjolras seemed a deliberately casual sort of way.

Enjolras nodded. “Yes. Madame Hucheloup reminded me that it's customary for newly married couple to take a honeymoon trip, even if just for a few days, and as I am not ready to return yet to the city, this seems an easy excuse to explain my absence in a way that does not draw suspicion like my staying here would.’

Grantaire nodded as well, avoiding Enjolras’s eyes. “Where will you go?” he asked.

“I own a cottage in the north,” Enjolras told him. “I thought I might stay there for a bit.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “Would not your servants wonder why you are there without your wife?”

Enjolras shook his head. “It's not family property, it's a cottage I bought in my own right. As such, there are no servants, and it's remote enough that I'm not sure anyone with twenty miles has any idea who I am or would care enough to report it to someone who does.” He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to add, for Grantaire’s benefit, “I go up there when I need to work, mostly, or just need to get away from the bowing and scraping and whatever else.”

“Well. That sounds lovely, and I'm certain you will have a good time.”

Enjolras waited a beat before adding, his turn to be deliberately casual, “I thought you might accompany me.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened before he busied himself with a scone. “Would that not be as obvious as you staying here?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I think Madame Hucheloup can manage some convincing tales in the village of you staying here while I journey north with your sister,” he said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“But why?”

Grantaire sounded torn between confusion and curiosity, and Enjolras shrugged again. “You don’t like being here,” he said simply.

“How—”

Enjolras should have realized that Grantaire would be surprised by that observation. He had a reputation, deserved or otherwise, of not paying attention to personal details of his friends, and he flushed slightly. “The way you spoke of your sister, and your father. This place holds no good memories.”

Grantaire’s eyes met his. “It holds a few. And more as of recent.”

“A few, then. But a great many bad ones, I’d wager.” Grantaire did not deny it and Enjolras hesitated before adding, “And I would not leave you alone with that.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, and for one heart-pounding moment, Enjolras thought he might refuse. But then he managed a small, wan smile. “In that case, I shall be glad to join you.”

Enjolras smiled as well, certain that he was one step closer to finding the answers he sought.

----------

It was a long ride up north to Enjolras’s cottage, but where the ride from the city to Grantaire’s estate had been punctuated by their usual conversation, there was none of that today. Silence hung between them instead, as Enjolras thought of a thousand conversation topics and cast them all aside, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

But eventually, the silence grew too much for him to bear, and he blurted, with a forced cheerfulness, “Lovely weather we’ve been having.”

Grantaire stared at him. “The weather,” he said, incredulity lacing both words. “You’re talking to me about the weather.”

“Well, it was that or comment on the jostling of the carriage, I suppose,” Enjolras muttered, feeling himself flush.

“And here I would assume that the jostling of the carriage is nothing compared to the struggle of the people that you champion so regularly,” Grantaire said archly, and Enjolras frowned.

“Are you trying to start this sojourn with a fight?” he asked

Grantaire just raised an eyebrow. “Trying? I do not recall ever needing to exert much energy to get you in an argumentative mood.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened. “Perhaps not, but…”

“But what?”

“But nothing,” Enjolras muttered, not wanting to tell him that he thought things might be different between them now. Different how was the real question, and that was the answer he was endeavoring to find. Of course, maybe nothing was different – maybe Enjolras was reading far too much into one stupid moment and they would return to the city and everything would fall back into place as it always had been.

He hated that he felt almost disappointed at that prospect.

“Tell me about this cottage we’re going to,” Grantaire said abruptly, and Enjolras blinked at him. “It’s only fair, you interrogated me about my home when we were en route there.”

“I’d hardly call it an interrogation,” Enjolras scoffed.

Grantaire’s expression didn’t change. “Maybe not, but the point still stands.”

Enjolras supposed it did. “It belonged to a distant relative of my mother’s,” he said. “A great-aunt, I think, though I only ever knew her as Auntie. It’s a couple of hours by horseback from the northernmost Enjolras family holdings. I was sent there as a child one summer for some fresh air.”

“Fresh air being assumedly in short supply at the Enjolras manor,” Grantaire remarked dryly.

Enjolras barked a laugh. “Truth be told, my parents just wanted me out of the way.” He sighed and shook his head. “My mother had discovered she was carrying another child, and I suppose my father didn’t want me underfoot.”

Grantaire blinked. “I did not realize you had a sibling.”

“I didn’t. My mother miscarried.”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s expression. “I am sorry.”

Enjolras jerked a nod. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s not the same as losing a sibling, of course, but it was still a loss. A loss of possibility, really, of what could have been…” He trailed off and shook his head, his tone turning wistful. “But for one glorious summer, it was just me, in a cottage with no servants, no lessons, no expectations about how I should behave or speak as a future marquess. It was the best summer of my life.”

He shook his head once more to clear it of the memories that rose to the forefront of his mind. “When my mother’s great-aunt died, there were no close relatives to inherit, so the estate was going to pass to some even more distant relation, but I offered to purchase it instead. I used a small inheritance I received when my maternal grandfather died so that it couldn’t be lumped in with the Enjolras holdings. And it’s been mine ever since.”

“It’s not much of course,” he added, and he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to assure Grantaire of that, or to warn him. “Four bedrooms, I think, though one I don’t think I’ve been into in ten years, and another is used for storage. There’s a woman in the village nearby whom I retain to clean it every few weeks.” He paused before adding, suddenly feeling almost tongue-tied, “You’re the first person I’ve ever brought to stay.”

Grantaire looked surprised by that. “Truly? Not even Combeferre or Courfeyrac?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No.”

“I am...touched, I suppose.” Grantaire made a dry noise that might have been an attempt at a chuckle. “Hopefully I’ll not taint your memories of the place.”

“I’m certain you won’t.”

“You say that now, and yet…” Grantaire trailed off, looking almost troubled. “Dare I ask why you’re allowing me to intrude on what until now has been something of a sanctuary for you?”

Enjolras frowned. “I told you, I did not wish to leave you alone—”

“Yes, and it’s a noble gesture, but you know as well as I that I could have returned to the city, or gone any number of places.”

Enjolras made a face. “I do know that you are far more popular than I, yes.” Grantaire laughed and Enjolras managed a small smile before continuing, “I suppose I was looking for us both to get a small dose of reality before we returned to the city.”

Grantaire’s smile disappeared. “Reality,” he murmured, something almost dull in his voice. “Of course.”

“As much as I would love to continue living in this little fiction we’ve spun—” Grantaire did not laugh and Enjolras frowned, wondering if he had somehow said the wrong thing. “Anyway,” he muttered, “that’s why.”

They continued the journey in relative silence after that, and when Enjolras finally spotted the familiar grey stonework out the carriage window, he had never been so relieved. “We’re here,” he announced, rather unnecessarily, as the carriage drew to a halt.

Grantaire stepped out of the carriage and turned automatically to offer Enjolras his hand to help him down. “I can see why you come up here to think,” he said, surveying the rambling moors that extended in any given direction. “No distractions.” He gave Enjolras a mischievous smile. “Are you certain you want me here to ruin all that?”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly after the carriage, which had already left. “Bit late to change my mind, don’t you think?”

Grantaire’s smile faded. “I suppose so,” he murmured, bending to pick up what luggage they had brought and ignoring Enjolras’s protestations that he was perfectly capable of carrying the luggage himself.

Once inside, both men stood a little awkwardly just past the entryway. Enjolras cleared his throat, casting about for a neutral topic. “Shall I make us some tea?” he asked, falling back on manners when all else had failed him.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Don’t feel obligated.”

“I do believe it’s considered good manners when hosting one’s brother-in-law, no matter how fictional the bond,” Enjolras said, aiming for a joke. “Or one’s bride, I suppose, depending on how one wished to look at it.”

But Grantaire didn’t look amused. “None for me, thanks.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, his heart sinking. “How about a tour, then?”

Grantaire shrugged again, but this time seemed inclined to actually go along with it, which was good, as it gave Enjolras at least a little more to drone on about as they made their way through the cottage. Of course, the cottage was only so big, so the tour itself was a brief affair, though Enjolras was somewhat relieved that Grantaire seemed to regain at least some of his good humor as they went. 

“So what do you think?” Enjolras asked as they finished the tour in the library.

“It’s not what I was expecting,” Grantaire admitted.

Enjolras glanced sideways at him. “Dare I ask what you were expecting?” he asked, equal parts wary and curious.

“Oh, the usual,” Grantaire said loftily, waving a hand as he plopped down on a sofa. “Threadbare curtains, a straw mattress to sleep on, no decorations…”

“You expected me to live like a monk?”

“Well, the vow of poverty seemed apt,” Grantaire mused before smirking at Enjolras. “Though I suppose were that the case, you would have abdicated your title and its associated lands, properties and incomes long ago.”

Enjolras knew Grantaire well enough to know when he was picking a fight, and he knew this was one of those times, even if he had no inkling of why Grantaire was choosing now to quarrel. Either way, he really did not wish to spend their first night in the north fighting, so he forced himself not to rise to the occasion. “Yes, well, as I am neither monk nor saint, I suppose I can indulge in a few comforts now and then,” he said instead before changing the subject. “I’m going to go down to the village before it gets too late to stock up on some food for our stay. Do you wish to accompany me?”

“No, I think I’ll stay here, see about perhaps getting some painting set up,” Grantaire said, but without much enthusiasm, and Enjolras frowned, unsure why Grantaire’s mood seemed so all over the place.

“Right,” he said. “Well. I’ll be back soon.”

“Pick up some whiskey while you’re down there, would you?” Grantaire asked, in a way that Enjolras couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not.

“And raise suspicions that I’ve suddenly returned as a drunk?” he said, aiming for a joke of his own. “We must keep up appearances, after all.”

But Grantaire just seemed to further deflate at that. “Right,” he said dully. “Appearances, and fiction, and all that.”

Enjolras had no idea what to even say to that, so he took his leave instead, hoping that by the time he returned, Grantaire might find himself in a better mood.

His trip to the village was a brief one, and he brought back enough food supplies for their supper and to break their fast in the morning, with more to be delivered the following day. When he returned, he was pleased to see that Grantaire had lit the fireplace in the kitchen, the library and both bedrooms, though he appeared to have abandoned his quest to paint, as he was instead absorbed in some ancient tome he had found in the library. Their evening was spent in relative but comfortable quiet as Enjolras read through some parliamentary briefings and Grantaire continued perusing the book, as similar an evening as many they had spent together over the years when their meetings had finished and it was just the two of them left in the backroom of the Musain.

But all too soon, Grantaire put the book down and stood. “I am going to call it an early night,” he told Enjolras. “I will see you on the morrow.”

“Of course,” Enjolras said, a little surprised as he looked over at the mantel clock. “Well, I was thinking perhaps we might take a walk tomorrow? Explore nearby and such?”

Grantaire glanced at the window. “It looks like it’s going to rain,” he said flatly, and before Enjolras could respond, he added, “Have a good night.”

All in all, Enjolras reflected when he too went to bed a few hours later, it was not at all what he had expected, and he was beginning to think this was a bad idea.

Still, he rose the next morning determined to make the best of it, only to quickly discover that Grantaire had risen with the opposite attitude, picking at his food over breakfast and staring out at the rain lashing against the window.

His mood only seemed to worsen as the day went on, and as Enjolras busied himself with some accounting work for one of his estates that was well overdue, Grantaire took to pacing impatiently. This would not ordinarily bother Enjolras, who had a tendency to get absorbed in his work, but the cottage was only so big and Grantaire’s pacing could perhaps be better categorized as stomping about.

On his fifth lap past Enjolras’s desk, Enjolras gritted his teeth and tried very hard not to stab his paper with his pen. “I would offer you some entertainment, if I had any to offer,” he said as politely as one could through clenched teeth.

Grantaire snorted derisively. “I am not a child,” he snapped. “I do not need to be entertained.”

Ordinarily, Enjolras would have shot back that Grantaire could have fooled him, as he was certainly acting childish, but he held his tongue, not wanting to cause an argument on only their second day. “Very well,” he said instead, continuing his tone of politeness. “I’ll leave you to your own amusement, then.”

“God, how can there be no alcohol in this entire building?” Grantaire burst. “Not even a single bottle of cooking sherry.”

Enjolras frowned. “Well, seeing as how I very rarely partake…”

“Yes, but surely one as well-bred as you knows to keep refreshments on hand for guests,” Grantaire said sourly.

Comments on Enjolras’s breeding were the fastest way to get under Enjolras’s skin, and he took a moment to stop from snapping. “Certainly, and I’m sure you would enjoy the wine cellar at any of my family’s estates,” he said finally, almost murderously polite. “But since I never imagined entertaining guests here—”

“Torture seems more accurate,” Grantaire muttered, flopping down on the sofa. “And your imagination needs some work.”

“Yes, well, I never dreamed that I would find myself entangled in such an elaborate fiction that would have me bringing you of all people here,” Enjolras snapped, dropping the façade of civility. “Or perhaps the real fiction was imagining that you and I might have an enjoyable time without the aid of alcohol!”

Grantaire cursed and stood. “Well forgive me, my lord,” he snapped, crossing to the door and yanking it open, that neither the real nor the fictional version of myself is not up to your standards.”

“Where in the bloody hell are you going?” Enjolras asked incredulously, half-shouting to be heard over the roar of the storm from the open door.

“Anywhere but here!” Grantaire shouted back, slamming the door after him.

Enjolras cursed as well and rushed to the door, opening it to shout after him. “Grantaire!” he shouted, but the man ignored him, stomping away through the mud. “Grantaire!” Again, there was no answer, and Enjolras lost what remained of his temper. “Fine!” he shouted. “Then I hope you drown out there!:

He slammed the door closed and stormed back to his desk. But he was too incensed to continue working and he didn’t bother sitting down, just crushing the piece of paper he’d been writing on into a ball.

What had he honestly expected? When had Grantaire ever risen to Enjolras’s expectations, and why had he assumed he would start now?

Because the man had kissed him, once? And then immediately fled?

Enjolras had clearly been deluding himself into thinking there was anything more between them when Grantaire could not go an hour without trying to stir up animosity. 

Not that he cared. Not that he did not spend the next twenty minutes pretending he did not glance at the door every time the house creaked, expecting or hoping Grantaire had returned. Not that he began to worry, when the clock chimed the hour. Not that he regretted whatever it was he had said or done that had made Grantaire leave.

What had he expected?

Something, anything, to show him that he was not imagining it, that what there was between them was real. Something, anything, to show that Grantaire might feel even just a little bit of what he did.

Something, anything, to prove that Grantaire cared.

And when had Grantaire ever cared about anything?

His fuming might well have sustained him for the entire night, but as one hour crept toward two and Grantaire had still not returned, Enjolras’s anger was rapidly replaced with worry. He had not been joking when he had told Grantaire that there was no one within twenty miles besides the village, and Grantaire could easily have gotten lost, or hurt, or, as Enjolras had shouted at him, drowned in the deluge still downpouring outside.

Enjolras was not entirely sure how he could live with himself were any of the latter options the case.

Resolved, he grabbed a coat from the front closet and went outside, squinting against the rain as he surveyed the horizon for any sign of Grantaire. There was none, but there were footprints, at least, half-filled with puddles of water from where Grantaire had assumedly sloshed through the mud as he had stormed away.

His trail was easy enough to follow, but every step away from the cottage filled Enjolras with trepidation. If anything had happened to Grantaire— If any harm had come to him—

The trail came to an abrupt stop at a large puddle of water that was growing rapidly, and Enjolras heart sank. Any sign of Grantaire would be washed away, surely, or else—

“What in the devil are you doing out here?”

Grantaire had to shout to be heard, especially as a crack of thunder boomed across the moor, but Enjolras had never been so glad to hear his voice, hoarse and tired as it was. He turned to find Grantaire huddled in the lee of a large tree nearby, clearly trying to wait out the worst of the storm and, judging by the mud that stained his trousers and the fact that every inch of him was soaked through, failing miserably.

He looked awful, but to Enjolras, he had never looked more perfect.

“Oh thank God,” Enjolras breathed, crossing to him in three long strides and pulling him into an embrace. “I thought you had gotten hurt, or lost, or—”

Grantaire pushed him away. “Yes, well, now you can see that I’m alright, so you can go—”

“Alright?” Enjolras interrupted, incredulous. “You’re soaked through to the bone! If you stay out here much longer, you’re liable to catch your death.”

“It honestly might be preferable at this rate,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras scowled. “If this is how you’re going to be, I’ve half a mind to leave you here and let you drown.”

“Good,” Grantaire shot back. “At least you’d be showing some hint of your old self!”

Enjolras stared at him. “What in the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “I’ve been nothing but courteous to you this entire trip, while you’ve tried to start a fight at every turn!”

“Of course I have,” Grantaire snapped. “Because fighting is what we do! It’s who we are! And I’ve been trying to prove to myself that nothing has changed, that you’re still you and I’m still me.” Enjolras just stared blankly at him, squinting against the rain, and Grantaire sighed, running a hand across his face which Enjolras was certain accomplished absolutely nothing to clear it of the rain. “But things have changed, and it’s what I never wanted to happen but what I always feared would, if I were ever to be stupid enough to…” He trailed off. “And I can’t stand you being polite to me, it’s driving me absolutely mad, and if it continues for much longer, it may very well kill me before this rain gets a chance to.”

If anything, Enjolras was even more lost than before. “What are you talking about?” he repeated, more a plea than anything, begging for some kind of rational explanation.

Grantaire just shook his head and returned his question with one of his own. “How?” he demanded. “How do you not know?”

If this was a puzzle, Enjolras had grown incredibly tired of trying to figure it out. “Because I’m extraordinarily stupid, apparently?”

Grantaire glared at him, though when he spoke again, the bitterness in her voice seemed directed more at himself than anything. “You really must be, because I’ve been the most obvious idiot of all time.”

Enjolras didn’t know why he bothered asking for a third time, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Grantaire threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “I mean, I’m in love with you, you fool!”

Enjolras gaped at him. “You – what?”

[flourgirl]

Study Buddies

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: When your friends can’t make it to an outing with you, Peter offers to accompany you instead. However, he gets caught up on a mission right before he has to meet you. When he shows up in the middle of the night to apologize, you’re more preoccupied over the fact that he’s all bloody and bruised.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, with lots of pining and a little bit of angst. Mentions of violence. One swear word.

A/N: This is my first time posting a fanfic! Please be nice :-)

“And with heart shaped bruises And late night kisses, divine” -Toothpaste Kisses, The Maccabees

Peter watched as you picked up your phone and read whatever it was that made the smile he loved so much fall from your face. “Is something wrong?,” he asked, causing you to look back up at your favorite study buddy. The sunshine from the skylight made his eyes look especially golden from his seat at the library table you had scattered your notes and textbooks across.

“It’s nothing,” you shrugged, sliding your phone back into your pocket. “I was supposed to go to the carnival tonight with some friends, but they all cancelled on me just now.”

“Oh,” Peter said, seeing how disappointed you were. “Well, you could always reschedule, right?”

“Nope. Tonight was the last night,” you sighed, returning to the problem set that you two had been working on all afternoon. 

Peter’s heartbeat quickened as he thought about how he could make you feel better. For someone he saw almost everyday, your relationship had never seemed to go past going over your calculus homework or cramming for a quiz in chemistry. “Y/N?,” he asked, “Uh, maybe, I mean...if you want to...Maybe I could go with you to the carnival?”

You immediately perked up and looked at him, your signature smile returning to your face. “Are you serious?,” you giggled, causing the worry to settle back into Peter’s stomach.

“Well, only if it’s okay with you. I don’t want to intrude on your plans and I know I’m just the guy you study with and not actually your friend or anything so—”

“Peter,” you started, grabbing his hand to stop him from rambling to death, “I would love to go to the carnival with you.” He smiled with relief, and you both returned to working on your homework. You thought to yourself about how much you liked how his brown eyes twinkled when he was happy.

“Oh, and by the way,” you said, squeezing his hand in reassurance, “We’re definitely friends, Peter.”

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

By 9 p.m., you finally accepted that Peter had stood you up. Go figure, you thought to yourself. It was silly to think that his offer was anything more than his usual kindness. He was never going to like you the way that you liked him.

Sulking to another episode of Gossip Girl, you perked up when you heard your doorbell ring, hoping it was Peter. To your disappointment, it was just your roommate, who had forgotten her keys. Returning to the couch, you snuggled into the throw blanket, falling asleep to Blair Waldorf’s terrible life decisions.

A crash on your fire escape startled you awake. Checking your phone, you saw that it was nearly 2 a.m., which meant that there was either a very confused bird outside or somebody was trying to murder you. Your anxiety decided that it was the latter, and you scrambled towards the kitchen to find something, anything, to protect yourself from the threat that loomed outside.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice whisper. You crept closer towards the sliding glass doors, clutching the frying pan in your hands with all your might. Who on earth could be trying to meet up with you at this hour?

Relief washed over your body as you pulled back the curtains to find Peter. Even if he had stood you up tonight, it was still better than a murderer. Well, only slightly better. You set the pan down, eyeing him with your arms crossed as he shivered on the cold metal of the fire escape. “Listen, I can explain. Just, please, let me in,” he pleaded, sounding exhausted through the glass.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized that he was covered in scrapes and bruises, and you rushed to pull the doors open, dragging him inside towards the couch. 

“Oh my god,” you huffed, “What the fuck happened to you? Did you get jumped? Do I need to call the cops? Jeez, that looks like it really hurts,” you rambled on and on, already on your way to the bathroom to rummage for a first aid kit. 

You found the white box with the red cross on it under the sink, rushing back towards the couch to get a good look at Peter’s injuries. “Y/N, I’m so sorry for missing the carnival. I know how much you wanted to go and I just want you to know that I really wanted to go too.”

As much as you were upset with him, it was obvious that he had a good excuse for showing up. “Peter. It’s alright. Just tell me what happened to you, okay?”

He turned his head away from your hand, which was gently cleaning the scrape on his forehead. “I can’t,” he muttered.

“I don’t care if you’re embarrassed. I need to know what happened to you.” He said nothing. You sighed in annoyance. “Fine. But come back here and let me finish cleaning you up. I don’t want you to get an infection.”

Peter scooted back towards you, reveling in how pretty you looked in the dim glow of the TV and how warm your hands felt against his skin. He couldn’t understand why or how a girl like you could want anything to do with a loser like him.

He thought about how you had first approached him at the end of a chemistry lecture and asked him if he had wanted to study. He remembered how shocked he was to see that you even knew that he existed. You didn’t need his help. You aced every quiz and exam that was thrown your way, so what was the catch?

It was until you started applying more rubbing alcohol to one of his cuts that he winced and snapped back to reality. He looked at you, seeing your brows furrow with concentration as you worked to make him good as new. You smoothed your pièce de résistance across his cheek, a Mickey Mouse band aid, and your hand lingered against his face for just a little longer than necessary.

It was at that moment that Peter decided to kiss you. By the time you had processed that his lips were against yours, he pulled away to stare at you, immediately regretting his actions. The worry in his expression was obvious, and he started to apologize to you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve asked you first, because consent is super important, but also because I’m pretty sure you would never kiss me in a million years because you’re so pretty and smart and I’m just the dork from your classes and—”

You shut him up with another kiss, running your hands through his soft, messy hair, resting your forehead on his once you had pulled away. “You sure do ramble a lot,” you laughed, looking at his brown eyes and dopey grin. He was utterly speechless, which was just another thing about him that you found unbelievably cute.

Coming out of his daze, he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Y/N,” he started, reluctance creeping into his voice, “I have something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?,” you asked, worried that he had changed his mind about being more than friends.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Your eyes widened, everything suddenly making sense. The way he always ran out of classes and study sessions. The way he carried your books around as if they weighed nothing. His unusually close relationship with genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist Tony Stark. He was Spider-Man.

“WHAT!?,” you whisper-screamed. He laughed, pulling you into a perfectly distracting kiss.

[softholand]

chocolate kisses - t.h

pairing: bestfriend!tom x youtuber!reader

words: 2.9k

warnings: none, just pure fluff

a/n: so... i did it again!!! i had this ideia after watching a video like this from one of my favorite youtubers. anyway, i really hope you guys enjoy and please do let me know what you think!! again, english is not my first language so that’s that. thank you @definitely-not-black-cat for proofreading this, you’re the best and i love you 💛 enjoy!!!!!!

You adjusted the lenses of your camera one more time, making sure everything was ready to start recording. Since you started making videos for the internet and became a youtuber, you were practically obligated to learn about filmography. Sometimes you had your friend Harry around to help, since he’s a professional but today he got a job to do, so you were on your own. In fact, you had another Holland around, the oldest of them all and your best friend since you were kids, Tom.

Ever since you made your youtube channel, your viewers have been begging you to bring Tom to a video, so when the opportunity came, you finally asked him and he was more than happy to accept.

“You ready?” You asked your brown haired friend.

“Yep!” He said, making sure to really pop the “p”, knowing you hated when he did that.

“Tom, I was being serious earlier. I need you to behave!” You said, feeling like you were talking to a child instead of a 24 year old.

But that was the thing about your friendship with Tom, when you guys were together it felt like time hasn’t passed at all and you were still two little kids, doing stupid things and constantly misbehaving.

“I got this! Don’t worry!” Tom answered, a smile wide on his face.

“Saying not to worry actually makes me worry even more, you know?” You huffed, making sure the memory card was in.

“It’ll be fine, y/n! I promise!” He said, looking at you with those big brown eyes that made you forget what you were even asking.

“Okay, I’m going to start!” You told, seeing him clap his hands excitedly, but the years of friendship had taught you that this was just a thing he did when he was actually nervous. “And go!” You said, pressing the record button and joining your friend behind the kitchen island, where you had all the ingredients for the recipe already measured.

“Hey everyone, welcome back to another video! This week we have another one of the baking series and if you couldn’t already see, I have a guest with me today. Ladies and gentlemen, the star of the moment and my very own best friend, Tom Holland!” You said enthusiastically, while he observed you with a big smile on his face.

“Hello everybody, I’m Tom and I’m really excited to be here today!” He said, giving a little wave at the camera.

“Today we’re making a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. This is one of my absolute favorites and it’s actually your mom’s recipe, that she was kind enough to pass me so I could share it.” You explained, looking at your friend.

“I love this cake! Mum used to make it when we were kids but suddenly she stopped doing it, saying we were too grown up.” Tom pouted to the camera, making you laugh.

“Well, it’s your lucky day because we’re gonna start making it right now. You ready?” You asked, seeing him nod, looking at all the ingredients in front of him. “I know it seems like a lot but this cake it’s actually pretty easy and quick to make, just take a little while on the oven.” You explained, knowing he probably thought it was way too difficult for him to make a cake like that.

“Great! Where do we start?” Tom said excitedly, which again made you laugh.

“Okay, the first step is always preheat your oven, in this case at 180 ºC, for at least fifteen minutes before putting the cakes in. Then we can start creaming together the butter and sugar. I’m using a stand mixer today but you can totally use a hand one. It’ll work perfectly fine.” You said, pointing to the ingredients.

“This is such a pretty mixer, y/n! I wonder who could have given you something like that.” The boy beside you pointed to your pink Kitchenaid with a smirk on his face. “It was you, dumbass!” You said, shoving his shoulder.

“Wow, I’m such a good friend!” The smirk on his face grew even more, seeing you rolling your eyes at his antics. “Can you stop praising yourself and start making the cake?” You pleaded.

Tom nodded and after you told the camera the ingredients and correct measurements, he put them in the mixer, looking confused when he couldn’t find the buttons.

“It’s on the side, Tom!” You told him with a laugh, showing exactly how to do it.

While the butter and sugar creamed together, you took the time to observe your friend, who seemed completely entertained with it. A couple minutes passed and when everything was looking good, you told him to stop the mixer, so you didn’t have to shout at the camera.

“When you mix those two together, you can start adding your eggs, one at a time. Always remember to crack them on a separate bowl, to make sure you don’t ruin your mixture with a bad one.” At that, Tom’s eyes light up, as if you had said the most clever thing in the world. “You can turn the mixer on low while I’m adding the eggs.” You instructed Tom, who nodded and made exactly that.

“This is looking gross!” He said to you once he turned the mixer off.

“Yeah, it does not look pretty when you put the eggs in but as soon as we put the flour, it’ll all be fine.” You reassure him. “Also, stopping the mixer and scraping down the sides of the bowl will help everything incorporate much better.” You advised, giving a pink rubber spatula to your friend, so he could do what you just said.

“Still look gross!” Tom scrunched his face, making you laugh.

“Stop it, we’re going to add the rest of the ingredients now.” You scolded, which caused him to pout at you. “We’re going to put 1 tablespoon of baking powder, 1 teaspoon of bicarb, a pinch of salt and 1 cup of cocoa powder into the flour and mix it really well before alternating this with the buttermilk. Got it?” You asked him, making sure he understood your instructions.

“So, baking powder, bicarb, salt, cocoa powder, mixing really well.” He kept narrating his moves, which you found adorable.

“Okay, now we have to put the mixer on the lowest speed, otherwise we’ll have flour everywhere. And don’t look at me like that, we DO NOT want flour everywhere, Thomas!” The smirk plastered on his face was the same one of a child before doing something they shouldn’t be doing.

“I swear I didn’t think of doing that, y/n/n!” He stated, putting his arms up in surrender.

“Yeah, right! Like I didn’t know you for twenty four years.” You rolled your eyes, making him laugh.

Once he turned the machine back on, you slowly started to add the flour, followed by half of the buttermilk, more flour, more buttermilk and finally the rest of the dry mixture.

“Perfect! Now we can turn off the mixer and scrape the sides one more time, then turn back on for about a minute or so, just to make sure everything is really well combined.” You said smiling.

“That’s it?” Tom asked, as soon as you took the bowl out of the mixer. “That’s it, the batter is done! Easy, right?” You said and he nodded. “Now we can divide the batter into three separate pans that I already greased and lined with baking paper.”

“Baking paper?” He questioned, seemingly confused.

After explaining to him what baking paper was, you proceeded to put the batter equally into the pans.

Just as he was about to lick the spatula, you swatted his hand, making him wince. “Don’t eat that!” You exclaimed. “Why?” Tom asked.

“It has raw eggs and flour. It’s not safe!” You told him, sounding obvious. “Fine, I won’t.” He promised, putting the bowl and spatula aside.

With the pans ready, you told the camera you were going to put them in the oven, for about 40min or until a toothpick came out clean. While you were away, Tom looked right at the camera and sneakily gave the spatula a good lick, scrunching his face at the taste of raw batter. When you came back, you rolled your eyes at your friend.

“What?” He questioned, trying not to sound guilty. “Was it good?” You asked him with a smirk.

“What?” He repeated himself. “The batter, was it good?” You laughed, seeing him widen his eyes. “How do you know?” He asked, confused.

“You have some on your face, silly!” You said, throwing a towel at him. Tom flushed, feeling embarrassed for being caught. “It wasn’t even good!” Tom said, cleaning his face. “I told you!” You laugh at his scrunched face.

“Okay, now we’re going to clean this up and wait for the cakes to bake, then we’ll come back and make the icing.” You told him, walking to the camera and stopping the filming. “You’re such an idiot!” You tell your friend, making him laugh.

Even after you denied, Tom insisted on helping, but his help ended with him splashing and playing with water more than actually washing the dishes. When you finally got the kitchen cleaned, the timer of the oven went off, indicating the cakes were ready.

While the cakes cooled, you prepared the ingredients for the icing, which consisted in butter, icing sugar and melted chocolate. Once everything was ready, you joined Tom on the couch, where he scrolled through instagram on his phone.

“What are you looking at?” You asked plopping down next to him. “The comments on my last post.” He said, looking at you.

“Yeah? What is it?” You questioned, looking at your own phone, seeing a brand new notification. “It was you.” Tom answered plainly.

“What?” You almost yelled, quickly clicking on the instagram app, where you found a picture of you taking the cakes out of the oven. “Tom!” You exclaimed, sending an annoyed look at you friend.

“What? Everyone’s saying you look good!” He told you, making you groan. “Yeah, gorgeous!” You mocked.

“Oh, there’s one saying you have a great ass!” He smirked. “Thomas!” You send him a reproving look. “Not my words, darling!” He shrugged, the smirk he wore growing even bigger.

“They’re also saying we’ll make a cute couple.” Tom smiled, looking at you and catching your eye. “As if, Holland! As if!” You mocked, getting up from the couch and making your way back to the kitchen to check your cakes, while his eyes stayed on your body.

“You know what? They were right! You do have a great ass!” He smirked. “Can you stop being a flirt and help me finish this cake?” You asked, not believing the words that left his mouth.

Once your annoying friend joined you, you hit the play button again and started recording. “We’re back!” You said enthusiastically. “We’re back!” Tom repeated, making you laugh.

“Our cakes are baked and cooled, I’ve put them in the fridge now, just to make sure they’re completely cold when we put the icing, which we’re going to start making now.” You said to the camera, followed by the ingredients and correct measurements. “Once again, we’re using a stand mixer, but just as the cake, a hand mixer will also work. Now Tom, you can put the butter and sugar in the mixer, but be careful with the icing sugar, it’s very powdery and can go everywhere, so start at a lower speed and just go up when it’s fully incorporated.” You warned him.

“Right, boss!” He mocked, making you playfully hit his arm. “While you do this, I’m going to melt the chocolate, okay?” You asked and he nodded.

Just as you turned around to put the bowl in the microwave, you heard your mixer going on full speed. The sight that greeted you once you turned back to your friend, was unbelievable. Tom was covered with powdered sugar, from head to toes, his curls where white with the powder and the look on his face was one of pure regret.

“It really does go everywhere!” He said looking guilty.

“I can’t believe it, how old are you? 5?” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m old enough to do this!” Tom said before jumping at you and wrapping his arms around your body. “Tom!” You yelled, getting out of his grip.

“Now we’re equal!” The brunette winked, making your blood boil.

“You idiot! You know we’re gonna have to clean this mess, right?” You questioned, shaking some of the icing sugar from your clothes.

“It was worth it!” Tom laughed and hearing that sound made you chuckle too.

After a little bit of tidying up in the kitchen, you started recording again, this time hopeful that you could finally finish the cake.

“Now that the butter and sugar mixture is light and fluffy, we can add the melted chocolate and mix everything really well.” You informed, both Tom and the camera in front of you.

Tom helped you with the chocolate and after mixing the icing for a couple of minutes, you passed him a spatula to scrape the bowl and make sure everything was well combined. But, just as you were about to take the spatula back from his hands, he put it in his mouth, licking a stripe of the chocolate icing.

“Tom!!! Not the spatula that you’re mixing the frosting!!!” You yelled, seeing him roll his eyes. “Why not?” Asked the brunette.

“I’m going to eat that cake too!” You exclaimed, sounding obvious. “Oh, c’mon! It’s not like we never shared saliva before.” Tom smirked.

“You know I’m gonna have to cut this part off of the video, right?” You questioned, shaking your head at his cockiness. “Why?” He insisted, not taking that stupidly handsome smirk out of his face.

“Your fans already think that we’re a couple, they don’t need to know that we drunk kissed at my twentieth birthday party.” You stated, shaking your head to try and get rid of the memorie.

“Whatever, I think they would like it!” Tom winked, giving the spatula another lick. “Oh, they sure would!” You said, taking the object out of his hands and putting in the sink.

Back to the recipe, Tom helped you put the icing stuff away and bring the now cooled cakes, a knife, a cake stand and of course, a clean spatula to start icing it.

“Now with a clean spatula…” You said, glancing at your friend, that couldn’t help but laugh.

After filling the cakes, you helped him spread more chocolate icing on the sides and the top, before putting some sprinkles.

“It’s finished!” You screamed, making Tom laugh. “It looks really good. Can we eat?” He asked with hopeful eyes.

“Wait! I have to take some pictures first!” You warned, before taking your camera and snapping a few shots of the finished cake.

Once you were done, you finally let him slice the cake, putting the piece on a plate for you guys to try. “This cake it’s so good!” Tom moaned, taking another bite.

“It’s so moist and the icing is not too sweet. It’s just… perfect!” You agreed, also going for another bite, but Tom was quick to playfully take the plate away from you.

“Well, that was it! I hope you guys like the recipe and try to make it at home because it’s delicious. Thank you again for joining me today and helping with the cake, Tom!” You smiled, looking at your friend.

“Of course, thank you for inviting me and you guys for requesting this video.” He said, smiling at the camera.

“Don’t forget to subscribe and like this video, also leave your comments down below letting me know what other recipe you guys want me to make. I’ll see you next week. Bye!” You said waving at the camera, followed by Tom.

Once you finally finished recording, you and Tom got each one another piece of cake and went to sit on the sofa, where you eat it while watching some tv show.

Your attention was brought away from the show once you heard Tom lightly chuckled beside you.

“What?” You asked, already knowing he was up to something.

“You have chocolate on your mouth.” He said, pointing at your face.

“Of course I have chocolate on my mouth, I’m eating a freaking chocolate cake.” You rolled your eyes.

“No, I mean… outside of your mouth. Here, let me help you.” Tom offered, getting face to face with you.

And of course, just when you thought he was going to clean your face and just forget about it, he surprises you once again, this time taking you by the neck and sealing your lips together.

You were so startled that your first instinct was to fight, but once you realized the familiarity of his lips, you relaxed and kissed him back. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t leave you wanting more.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this…” Tom, being the gentleman he was, started to ramble and apologize for what he had done but you just rolled your eyes.

“Just shut up!” You smiled, leaning back in and kissing him again.

You knew that you two would have a lot to talk about after this but right now, all that you wanted were more of those chocolate kisses.

tagging some mutuals: @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @missnxthingg @peeterparkr @tomhollandthing @wazzupmrstark @screamholland @fallinfortom

[frostedfaves]

Haunt (5)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Wanda can tell you’re losing sleep, but she doesn’t hear the devil trying to make a deal with you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of funerals and grief, ghosts/demons, heavy alcohol use, more angst

A/N: I’m planning on incorporating the blurb that started this story into the next chapter with just a few changes to fit the plot. anyway, I have nothing left to say but to ask for the very least a comment on what you thought about this! these next few parts are what motivated me to write everything that came before it, and I’d just like to hear opinions on it so :)

Previous part

-

A knock on Wanda’s classroom door caused her to look away from her desk with a curious frown, which instantly shifted to a grin at the sight of you. Her jacket and purse were abandoned on her chair as she skipped over, closing the door behind you and turning to pull you into a kiss. Your arms shifted to wrap around her waist, and one of her hands searched blindly to figure out where the weight pressed against her back was coming from.

“You came with food?” she asked as she pulled out of the embrace and moved your arm to bring the large paper bag into view.

“It’s an apology lunch date...for missing the last few walks with Alexei.”

“Thank you, baby.” She left a kiss on the tip of your nose before leading you by your free hand to sit at her desk. “Since you’re here, can you tell me why you missed them?”

“Yes, I can.” Your sudden moment of silence made her pause with a food dish in her hands as she studied your exhausted expression. “Waiting to hear about this promotion has been hell, and I didn’t want you to notice that I wasn’t sleeping because of it.”

“So work has been keeping you busy?” she sighed and you nodded.

“In a way, yes.”

You helped her finish taking everything out of the bag and tried to arrange things on her desk in a way similar to a fancy restaurant, working well with the limited space you had, and Wanda watched on with bright eyes and a heavy heart. A mix of worry and dread swirled together inside of her, knowing that she should trust you more given that you’d opened up a great deal since your sleepover, but also feeling compelled to believe there was more going on with you. Not wanting to ruin the surprise date, she decided to save the discussion for later.

The next few months seemed to pass by at the speed of light, and Wanda’s level of concern over you fluctuated its way into the new year. There were times when you appeared to be more refreshed than ever as you arrived for Alexei’s walks or invited Wanda in for dinner, holding the confidence of a bird that finally mastered flying. On the other side of things, there were days that it was obvious you hadn’t closed your eyes for more than a few minutes during the previous night, which usually accompanied times where you’d simply check out of whatever was happening without warning.

-

School was different without her, much harder. There were stares, and whether they were judgmental or sympathetic, you didn’t know. You couldn’t really tell the difference of anything anymore, now that she was gone. The administrators on the morning announcements and teachers used the words dead and passed away and killed, but to you, she was just gone.

A call of your name had you stabbing into your uneaten lunch with more force now as footsteps accompanied the voice, growing closer until you could sense a presence on the other side of the otherwise empty lunch table.

“May we sit?” 

This time the voice came from her father, the husband of the woman he stood beside, the parents of the girl you’d let down this past weekend. You made the mistake of looking into the bloodshot eyes of two equally broken souls, and one weak nod brought them into the chairs across from you.

“As you know, the service is on Saturday, and we were wondering if you could say a few things that day. Even we didn’t know our daughter quite the way you did.”

“No thanks,” you replied after a bit of hesitation, continuing to poke at whatever had been thrown on your tray this time.

“You’re her best friend! She’d want you to speak at her funeral,” her mother insisted and you snapped.

“I doubt that an eighteen-year-old girl that excited for college was sitting around thinking about who would speak at her funeral.” You took a second to glance around at the new round of staring you’d caused with your outburst before turning back to the grief-stricken parents in front of you. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable coming.”

You moved your tray aside and grabbed your bag from the seat beside you, slinging the straps over your shoulder as you stood. The chair scraped noisily against the floor as you pushed it away from the table, the sound echoing in your mind and following you all the way to your car outside. As you walked, you could hear occasional calls of your name in different tones, and one suddenly stuck out above the rest.

“Baby?”

You blinked rapidly as you felt hands on either side of your face, turning your head to meet the concerned gaze of Wanda beside you on the couch. Your hands gently pulled at hers until her palms were detached from your cheeks, and you kissed the inside of her knuckles with a smile.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

“I know.” she sighed as she shifted to lie sideways on the couch, wrapping her arms around you as you settled against her chest. “Is this ‘something’ the same reason you haven’t been sleeping again?”

You were slightly dragging your fingers across the tail of her sweater as you rested against her torso, and you froze at her words. Of course, you couldn’t be too surprised when even you were aware that you weren’t doing the best job of hiding it, mainly because you were tired of doing that. It was exhausting keeping the biggest part of yourself from the woman you wanted to share everything with as you found yourself falling in love with her faster than you’d like to admit. So you raised your head to meet her eyes and tell her the entire story, dropping it onto her stomach again when her phone started ringing.

“Hey, Piet--what? Oh shit, really? Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” She hung up with a sigh as she placed her phone on the coffee table with a sigh. “Pietro and Mia were on their way back home and the car suddenly died on them. Do you want to come with me to pick them up?”

“I’m too sleepy to move,” you mumbled as you sat up a bit to let her climb off the couch, flopping down onto the cushions in a dramatic fashion once she stood. “See? Even that took too much effort.”

“Okay, lazy.” She giggled as she leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Don’t walk Alexei without me!”

“I wouldn’t dare!” you called out as she hurried toward the front door with her keys, turning back to the television with a smile when you heard her pull out of the driveway.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

You jumped up as the words were whispered into your ears, rubbing the heels of your palm into your eyes with a loud groan as the phrase repeated endlessly, growing a bit louder each time. Knowing you wouldn’t get any relief until Wanda returned (and maybe not even then), you decided to head to the fridge for a drink, going for a beer and not even flinching when you grabbed three instead.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“You don’t scare me anymore,” you challenged as you collapsed into the armchair in front of the window, drinking the first bottle in one go and setting it on the floor while maintaining eye contact with the horrific sight across the room.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“I’ve learned to not give a shit about you when I’m drunk.” You drained the second bottle and sat it next to the first. “And maybe it’s not the healthiest way to cope with all this, but it definitely beats letting you win.”

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

You held a hand to your chest as you burped harshly, and you sat still waiting for the slight pain in your chest from a third consecutive beer to go away. You were feeling a bit warm following all that alcohol, but you fight the urge to tear off your sweater, knowing you welcomed a bit of heat more than the chill that surrounded you lately.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“Go to hell!” you yelled with a bit of a slurred speech, leaning back in the chair with closed eyes and beginning to panic when you suddenly couldn’t open them.

“I can’t hold it, Y/N. My arm is stuck.”

“Stop, please.”

“Is she dead?”

“I’m sorry I yelled, just please stop!” you half begged, half yelled again as you fought to open your eyes.

“The driver was high.”

“I said stop!”

“She’d want you to speak at her funeral.”

You gave up on pleading with the voices in your mind and swirling around it, simply focusing on your breathing and the feeling of tears pouring from the corners of your eyes as you pulled at the upholstery. The phrases repeated in chronological order with an occasional shuffling, but it wasn’t until you heard those four little words join the mix again that you lost it.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“How do I make it stop?!” you screamed as you finally broke free and sat up again, the small bit of relief you gained fading just as quickly as it appeared when you locked eyes with the source of your nightmares only feet away. You waited in building anticipation for the entity to kill you on the spot or make another terrifying move that would drag you into an even deeper feeling of despair, but you were left a bit surprised when you simply heard two new words.

Go home.

-

Tags: @littlegasps @peggycarter-steverogers @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @cristin-rjd @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @creepingwolfberry @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly @thedragonzland @dylxn-lee @cordeliaswhore @ravvakin96 @leximills2004 @smolgayhooman @ajlawinters @moonlightmadnessxx

[sturchling]

Adrien Agreste: Ace Attorney

I saw this idea from @lenoreofraven and I loved it. I had to try and write it out!

The class doesn’t just stand by during the Ladybug incident. Instead, they get a trial set up to prove Marinette’s innocence. Adrien becomes Marinette’s defense. What will happen at the trial?

Hope you like it!

Everything was going wrong for Marinette in this moment. Lila had accused her of stealing the answers to yesterday’s test, pushing her down the stairs, and stealing her necklace. Thankfully her classmates didn’t look convinced. And of course, Adrien knew the truth. He hadn’t realized how far Lila would go. He tried to say something to Mr. Damocles, but he was cut off, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you are here by expelled from this school.” Everyone gasped. Lila started smirking, but no one seemed to notice except for Adrien and Alya. Before Marinette was made to leave the building, Adrien interjected, “Wait Mr. Damocles. You can’t just throw her out! This is to fast, and you didn’t ask for Marinette’s side.” This is the moment Lila sealed her fate. She never thought people would agree to this suggestion. She mockingly asked, “What do you want Mr. Damocles to do? Hold a trial?” Alya, jumped on board with the suggestion. Anything to save her best friend. “That is a great idea. We would be able to make sure we punish the right person.” When Mr. Damocles still didn’t look convinced, Nino chimed in, “Also, it would be a great learning experience.” Max jumped in at this point, “This method of teaching the justice system is 98% more effective than a lecture style. It would be very instructive” That was about all Mr. Damocles needed to hear to be convinced.

 -----------------

Lila couldn’t believe this was happening. She had been joking when she suggested the trial. She didn’t think the class would push for it so much, or that Mr. Damocles would agree. Now she was stuck. She couldn’t object to the trial without making it obvious that there wasn’t much proof. At first, she was just irritated, but wasn’t worried. She had tricked her class before. She would be able to trick whichever of her classmates ended up on the jury. Then Mr. Damocles announced the plan. Of course, Lila was the witness to all of this, so her role was clear from the start. Mr. Damocles was going to be the prosecutor for the trial. Mrs. Bustier would be the stenographer, to make sure there was a record of the trial. Lila was ok with the setup for the trial so far. Then Mr. Damocles continued, and that is when Lila realized she was in trouble.

  -----------------

Mr. Damocles announced, “Ms. Dupain-Cheng may choose one student from her class to act as her defense. Ms. Cesaire will be the court investigator and is in charge of gathering evidence. We won’t be having a jury trial; we will just have a judge decide. Since Mrs. Mendeleiev was not involved in the incident directly, she is the most impartial. Therefore, she will be the judge.” Lila paled hearing this. The science teacher would be a lot harder to convince than a group of students would have been. Marinette wasted no time, asking Adrien to be her defense. This infuriated Lila, and she only got angrier when Adrien agreed. Mr. Damocles said that they trial would be held tomorrow, so everyone had time to prepare. With that, the day was over and everyone went home. Lila went straight home and started rehearsing for her performance tomorrow. It would have to be the most convincing performance she had ever given.

  -----------------

The next day, the class gathered in the class room and got ready for the trial. Alya had spent all night gathering evidence. She had wanted to get security footage, but apparently the cameras had been nonfunctional for a while. She gave all the evidence she had gathered to both Mr. Damocles and Adrien so they could read it over before the trial began.  Once Mrs. Mendeleiev arrived, the trial began quickly. Lila walked to the front and gave her testimony, “Well, I saw Marinette steal the answers to the test that we took the other day. I didn’t want to get her in trouble, but I eventually decided it wasn’t fair to the rest of the class who worked so hard for their grades, so I sent an anonymous tip to Mrs. Bustier. Then when we were sent Mr. Damocles’ office, Marinette got really mad at me, she yelled at me and was saying stuff like how I shouldn’t have said anything and she would make me pay for this. When we got near the stairs, I felt a pair of hands on my back push me and then I fell down the stairs. I yelled as I fell, and then everyone came out to help. When we got in the office, I finally felt safe enough to tell Mr. Damocles’ that Marinette had stolen a pendent that was passed down to me by my grandmother. When we went down to the locker room, Marinette opened her locker and my necklace fell out.” After Lila was done, she hid her smirk. She had done a brilliant performance. She was sure that she had swayed Mrs. Mendeleiev to believe her. Then Lila heard Mrs. Mendeleiev say, “Thank you for your story Lila. Mr. Agreste, you may cross examine the witness now.” Lila braced herself as Adrien stood up. She just had to keep her story straight and everything would work out.

  -----------------

Adrien was prepared for this. He knew that Marinette was innocent. Now he just had to prove it. He walked towards Lila and asked, “First, you said you saw Marinette take the answers. When was this?” Lila answered smoothly, “Why, the day before the test. She stayed in the room after class and when Mrs. Bustier wasn’t looking, she took the answers.” “That is interesting. Because, myself and several other students saw Marinette leave as soon as class was dismissed. I would like to submit this evidence. Sworn statements from seven other students who all say they saw Marinette leave as soon as the school day was done.” Lila looked flustered for a second but quickly composed herself, “Yeah, but she came back to the school and that is when she took the test answers.” Adrien quickly faced Lila again, “Really, because you just said she never left. And we have a written record of that version of your testimony. Another interesting bit of evidence is Mrs. Bustier was sure that she saw the answer key when she left. She locked the door when she left, so Marinette couldn’t have gotten in and taken the answers after that point!” The rest of class started murmuring at this and Lila started to panic. She didn’t think Adrien would be paying attention to every detail, or that Alya would have found all of this evidence in one night.

  -----------------

Once order was restored in the classroom, Adrien continued, “Now that we have covered the cheating accusation, lets move on to you accusing Marinette of pushing you down the stairs. First thing to point out, is you just said that you only felt hands on your back, and you didn’t actually see Marinette push you, is that right?” Lila got a bit more confident at this point. Her and Marinette were the only ones in the hall at this time, so it would be hard to disprove. “Yes, that is right. I may not have seen her, but it had to be her. There was no one else there.” “And yet, when you originally spoke to Mr. Damocles you specifically said that Marinette pushed you down the stairs, which suggests you saw her.” Mr. Damocles yells, “Objection, she never said she saw Marinette push her, just that she was pushed. And Marinette was the only likely suspect, as she was the only one present.” Adrien got frustrated hearing that, but moved on, “Ok, but there is still another problem with your story. You claim to have been pushed down the stairs. That makes a lot of noise. But even though this supposedly happened right outside Mr. Damocles door, and Mr. Haprele in the courtyard, no one heard anything until you started yelling.” Lila started to stammer, trying to come up with an excuse, but Adrien didn’t give her a chance, “Another thing that is important to note, falling down the stairs would cause a lot of injury. Bruises and scrapes and other very obvious injuries. The only injury you claimed was a hurt knee. However, within a few minutes of the incident, despite you claiming that your knee was hurting severely, you were able to walk normally.” The classroom erupted, as people discussed this new revelation. Adrien was right. By the time that everyone came to search Marinette’s locker, everyone saw Lila walking normally. Lila was becoming increasingly nervous as this trial went on. She was watching her whole story fall apart. She noticed that everyone was looking at her doubtfully now. Lila knew that everything rested with the last claim now, she had to be careful.

  -----------------

Adrien continued his cross examination, feeling more confident by the minute that he would win, “Regarding the last accusation, you accused Marinette of stealing your necklace? The one that has been passed down through your family?” Lila replied, making her voice choke up like she is about to cry, “Yes, that necklace means the world to me. It was given to me by my grandmother and we all saw it come out of Marinette’s locker. I wish I had been wrong; I don’t want to think she could be so cruel.” Adrien smirked, “Interesting. You claim it is from your grandmother, but when we look at the necklace, we can see the Gabriel logo. This necklace is from his new jewelry line. It couldn’t have been passed down through the family like you claimed!” Lila got frazzled at this point and burst out, “What does it matter if it isn’t an heirloom. The point is that Marinette stole it. It was in her locker, it had to be her that stole it!” Adrien yelled, “Hold it! These are the same lockers that have been broken into time and time again. Chloe got into Marinette’s locker to get the present that Marinette made Mrs. Bustier. Alya got into Chloe’s locker when she thought Chloe was Ladybug. There aren’t even any locks on them. It is completely possible that someone else put it in the locker to frame Marinette.” Everybody realized Adrien was right. Those lockers have never been locked; anyone could have put the necklace in there.

  -----------------

Mr. Damocles stood up and asked, “Ms. Rossi, is there any reason that you are sure Marinette did all this. Any reason that Marinette might have to hurt you?” Lila saw her opportunity; this could be how she gets out of this. “Yes. Marinette is jealous of me since I’m closer to Adrien. She feels threatened because she and Adrien are just friends but Adrien and I are-” Adrien jumps up, “Objection!” Mrs. Mendeleiev turns to him and asks, “Yes, Mr. Agreste?” Adrien states, “Marinette isn’t just a friend,” Everyone in Mrs. Bustier’s class holds their breath. Could this be the moment that Adrien admits his feelings? Adrien continues, “Marinette is a very good friend.” Everyone in the class groans. False alarm. So, Adrien is going to be dense for another day, Adrienette won’t be happening today. Even Mrs. Mendeleiev seems put out by how oblivious this boy is. “Mr. Agreste, while I appreciate that Marinette is a good friend, lets try to stick to the matter at hand.”

  -----------------

After all of this, the trial ended quickly. Mrs. Mendeleiev ruled in Marinette’s favor. She said that not only did Adrien make a good argument, but Lila kept contradicting herself. Mrs. Mendeleiev also suggested that Lila’s mother be contacted, since she had been lying about this it was possible that she had been lying about some of her other ailments. Lila was horrified, how could everything have gone so wrong. Lila was led away to the office to wait for her mother. Marinette was busy celebrating have proven her innocence when Mr. Damocles walked over to her group, “Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I wanted to apologize for blindly believing the accusations.” After he told Marinette that she could of course return to school, he went to go deal with Lila and her mother.

  -----------------

It was quickly after that meeting that it was revealed that Lila had been lying ever since she arrived in Paris. Lila was expelled because of her truancy and Marinette wasn’t sure what happened to Lila after that. She never saw Lila around Paris again though. Marinette was so grateful to her class for believing her and for getting that trial to prove her innocence. Adrien enjoyed being Marinette’s defense, and now wondered if he should become a lawyer. His friends started jokingly calling him Adrien the attorney after the trial. Adrien was just glad that he could protect his friend. Adrien had warned Lila. Don’t mess with his friends or you will have to face Adrien Agreste, Ace Attorney.

[deancodedcastielenby]

It started out with a XX

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I am putting Tags first so I don’t forget like the horrible trash panda I am: @casmick-consequences , @proudcasgirl , & @paintdriesfaster You have asked to be tagged, or for Casmick you are the reason this is here. The Date Continues  This is 100% unbeta’d and I am litterally on my work computer writing in between phone calls so. I apologize for any spelling errors or punctuation since I am a trash panda. XX love you all, enjoy

Castiel is under the impression that Mick Davies is an interesting human. The man seems charmed by many of the words that Castiel uses, and has no problems showing his obvious interest. There have been other humans in his time in this vessel that have shown a reaction to his person, and now that this body is his and no longer Jimmy’s it is an interesting notion that he would be coveted carnally from anyone. Still, Mick is interesting and the conversation that he engages in with Castiel over a shared dinner have kept Castiel enthralled at least. The dinner was odd, it still tasted like molecules, but Mick made a point to have him try a bite or two of everything and explain how he found the flavors. 

The white sauce on the noodles, for example, Castiel knew was called Alfredo sauce, but Mick described it much better before he had Castiel try a bite off his fork. There was flavor that he hadn’t expected, on top of the molecules, but perhaps being described before eating was the difference. No one had ever thought to try that before. The breaded mushrooms were an odd texture that Castiel was not sure that he liked, but Mick did say that sometimes the dipping sauces made them better, and the sweet dessert was delicious, and tasted faintly of coffee. That was a beverage he missed from being human. 

As far as humans go, Mick was charming and rather handsome, though at this point Castiel realized he had a type. Claire had pointed it out when he described Mick to her before the date. His eyes may not be the right shade of green that he prefers, but they are quite beautiful none the less. In fairness Mick had also dressed up for the occasion and was wearing an outfit similar to his own, though he was wearing brown. That was a brown slacks and waistcoat over a light blue shirt and a matching brown blazer. The overall effect was very charming, and very appealing. Castiel had on occasion browsed through different magazines and had seen similar outfits on different models, so he assumed it was a fashion thing, but Mick was able to pull it off nicely.  Of course there was a few glasses of wine with dinner, and Castiel was able to sip them carefully during conversation. It was true he had a rather high tolerance for alcohol, so it wasn’t that he needed to, but he had tried to keep pace with Mick to make sure that he blended in. Over all Castiel would say that the date was a success. Many times throughout the conversation he was able to pick up on the different flirtations that Mick was sending his way, and apparently he was sending back. Once or twice he was able to say something that made Mick laugh loudly and give him a wide smile that made his face mirror one in return. To say that dinner was pleasant would be an understatement.  After dinner Mick asked if he would like to take a walk and continue their conversation. It was getting darker outside, but still there was plenty of light with the street lamps and there was such a quaint little park they could walk around. It was simple to agree, and so they left hand in hand after Mick paid for their meal. “I insist Castiel, honestly it was mostly my meal anyway.” That was another strange feeling, being hand in hand with Mick. There was a brief moment where he remembered Daphne, she would hold his hand sometimes when they were out and about, but he never had this strange intimacy with another person after his memories came back. The hand in his own was not a dainty one, it was on the larger side with blunt fingers and the cool metal of a ring on his pinky finger. Over all he experience was new.  At one point Mick had released his hand, and of course Castiel frowned when he missed it immediately, only to have him slip Castiel’s hand in the crook of his elbow and seemingly step closer. “I am honestly surprised that you came out with me this evening.” They were on their second loop of the small park, their gait was slow and measured to eat up more time. Almost as if neither one was quite ready for the evening to end. “It seemed as though you were very much in the Winchester’s pockets and that they did not like me very much.”  “They do have a negative disposition to the British Men of Letters, Arthur Ketch left a rather bad taste in their mouths and I do not blame them for that, however they are not my keepers and I am free to make opinions on other humans.” Ever the peace keeper, or so it seemed, Castiel tried for a neutral ground. That was until Mick barked out a bit of a laugh. 

“I would suppose so, though not all of us Brits are quite like Ketch. I am hoping you would have a better opinion of me after our date. Perhaps I should inquire as to another?” It seemed the man was looking at Castiel out of the corner of his eye, which was odd, but it only took a moment to realize that he was asking Castiel out on another outing. This was courting wasn’t it? The odd human custom? 

“I would not be against another outing, though I had thought you were to return to England soon.” The words were out before Castiel could reel them back, but they were true none the less. Mick did not know that Castiel could travel to England with just a thought, so it wasn’t that the distance was a problem. Castiel would just like to know where he stood, it was so hard to gage with Dean where exactly things lay between them when Dean was in denial and never spoke. Perhaps this was Castiel’s way of making sure that whatever this was with Mick, it was different.   “I will have to return home eventually of course, but I would very much enjoy spending time with you whilst I can. Your conversation skills are spectacular, it is rather hard to have meaningful conversations about things anymore, and you are quite a sight to look at as well so that is a bonus for me.” These words were said with a smile and a pat to Castiel’s shoulder, “I am aware that our engagement here is limited, not just by time. I have eyes, I know I am not your first choice and that is fine with me, honestly. I just think that while I am here, I can show you what a relationship should be like, so that you know.” Stopping their circle of the park, they were in a bit of shadow of a corpse of trees but they could still see the stars if they were to look up. They didn’t.  “I will not take advantage of you, or your kindness. I want us to be open and honest with each other, so that when I do have to return to England, we could still walk away as friends and you can come to me with anything. Though right now, I would very much like to kiss you if you would be amenable?” The words were honest and open, much like the expression that Mick was wearing. Mick wanted a relationship, in what ever capacity that he could while he was here that could translate to a great friendship when he left, and honestly what did Castiel have to loose? The want to experience something good and meaningful after watching the one he wanted jump into bed with countless others....  “I am amenable.” The response was gruff and quiet, almost an afterthought, though Mick had heard it if the wide smile on his face was anything to go by. Oh so gently one of Mick’s hands cupped the side of Castiel’s head and guided their lips together in a sweet and soft touch. The kiss itself was chaste, but it seemed to cause an ache somewhere in the pit of Castiel’s stomach. It was genuine intimacy and affection, something he never knew he honestly needed, but with the gentle press of lips it was something that he was honestly going to crave. After a moment or two of soft pressure Mick pulled back to gage the reaction on the angel’s face.  “Well, no fireworks which is a shame, but I can live with that.” A slightly cocky smile lit the side of his mouth, “Unless you’d like another?”  “I always expected that kisses would be... more than just a press of lips.” It wasn’t that Castiel hadn’t experienced kisses, because he had on a few occasions, namely with women. Though the thought made him tilt his head slightly and squint in confusion. 

“Ah, you were expecting more passion and enthusiasm perhaps? What kind of Brit do you take me for, a savage? This is a first date after all, need to keep you on your toes and coming back for a second one.” There was something akin to mischief in Mick’s eyes before he laughed, “well I suppose one more couldn’t hurt.” With that he did pull Castiel’s head down once again to meet his lips, this time with a bit more of a firmer touch. The scrape of stubble against his skin was a bit firmer now, and he could actually feel it. After some maneuvering to fit their lips just so, a hint of a tongue pressed against the seam of the angel’s lips and he opened to the onslaught of Mick’s rather talented tongue. 

Unsure of exactly how long they stood there, in the slight shadow of the trees kissing quite like teenagers, they broke apart. A soft flush to Mick’s features made him more endearing in a way as he seemed to shiver and attempt to take a step back. It was a strange sensation feeling Mick release him, as it seemed that the hand that was not tangled into his hair had found his hip, not that he had noticed at the time. “Well now, that was... something else. Shall I return you home then Cinderella? Or is there a night in shining muscle around here somewhere waiting to whisk you away?”  “I do know how to drive.” Something about the way that Mick said the words was unsettling, though Dean did tell him to call when he was ready to be picked up. Castiel was an angel of the lord and he could take care of himself. 

“Of course you do, I never said you couldn’t. Perhaps you could walk me to my car then?” Mick gave a soft chuff and a slight bow of an apology holding out his elbow again. Castiel missed that strange closeness so he nodded and tucked his hand into the crook and walked Mick back to the restaurant and to his car. Luckily he did not see the Impala anywhere on their walk, and Castiel indulged Mick with another kiss at the car before watching him climb inside. “Do let me know when you are free for another Date.” Mick said after yet another soft press of lips before driving off and down the street.  It was a few moments before Castiel moved and headed back to the park, keeping himself invisible from any kind of eyes until he was standing where he and Mick had been only a little while before. Pulling out his phone he sent off a text to Dean, letting him know that he was not going to need a ride home, nor would he be back that evening. There was far too much for the angel to think about at that moment, and far to much for him to replay to even attempt to be near Dean right now. Instead he found himself sitting on a bench in that park, staring at the emptiness of the night, not getting a reply from Dean at all, but that was fine. The hunter had probably fallen asleep anyway, it was better for him to get the rest than worry about Castiel.  

[ladyeliot]

Atoms.

Request: Anonymous: Heyy! Can you do a fluffy something like childhood friends>friends to lovers with Tony Stark? Thanks so much! And happy valentine's day!

Pairing: Teen!Tony Stark x Teen!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Tony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but sometimes the line between friendship and love is a fine one.

Warnings: Fluff / Childhood 

Word count: 3359

A/N:  Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Valentine’s Day (Prompts)

In all friendships there is a fine line that separates love from simple friendship, in fact, on many occasions we cut that fine line without realising it. We come to think that things just happen, that there is nothing we can do to change the cycle of life, that everything is programmed and that those who are meant to be together, will be together.

It all began on a cloudy Friday, May 29, 1970. In a small town on the east side of Long Island, two new mothers were struggling fiercely to bring a baby into the world. The night had been long, a storm had left the town without electricity, a fact that had not hindered the delivery, but that had increased the nerves of these parents. After hours of suffering, screams and internal curses, at 6:29 pm two babies were able to see the world with their own eyes for the first time. At that very moment an invisible thread connected the two of them, so that it was at that very moment that they were brought together in the maternity ward and never to be separated again.

Childhood is the time when you can create the best memories that will stay with you for the rest of your life. Yours was shared with Tony, so he was present in virtually all of your memories. The fact that your mothers created a true friendship after the birth facilitated the deep connection you found on both sides. From birth you were never separated, you learned to discover the world together, you entered the first day of school together and you graduated together.

It was obvious that you had great things in common, but your characters were completely different, maybe that's what made you two work so well together, what limited one of you, the other one could overcome. When your fear prevented you from daring to do something, Tony was by your side to help you overcome it. In the same way, when Tony felt insecure about himself, you were there to erase all his insecurities from his mind. You both evolved and improved each other.

Your childhood helped you understand the importance of having each other, the value of your friendship, even if there were little bumps in the road. Tony was your first time at all times, he was the one you did your first prank with, the one you took your first swim in the pool with, the one you learned to ride a bike with, the one you shared your Halloween candy with, the one you celebrated your birthdays with, Tony was everything, he was even your first kiss.

It was 1978, innocence was still within you, causing you to see the world with eyes that were still unaware of the vast majority of things that lay before you. Laughter was coming through the wooden windows of your tree house. You were lying on a rug looking at a photo album that your mother had lent you, with some pictures of you and Tony from when you were practically babies.

"Look at you here," you said with a chuckle, looking back at the picture of two-year-old Tony crying next to you. "You're crying in all the pictures."

Tony bumped his shoulder against yours in complaint and turned the page.

"Why is it that in all the pictures of your parents alone they're kissing?" he asked quizzically, not quite understanding the act.

"I guess it's because they love each other," you said without making a big deal out of the gesture, as you were more than used to seeing them kissing in front of you.

"My parents love each other too and they don't kiss," Tony commented turning the page.

You shrugged, turning your attention back to the photo album. But Tony still had the idea in the back of his mind.

"Do your parents kiss every day?" he asked, sitting up.

"Hm..." you looked thoughtful at his question and also sat up. "Yes, whenever mum or dad comes home or leaves, or when we go to sleep..."

"Wow!" exclaimed Tony totally shocked by your words. "And... they like it?"

"I guess..." you shrugged holding up your palm. "Why else would they do it?"

"Makes sense," Tony nodded, processing the information. "Maybe my parents don't like it, that's why they don't."

That was the first time the two of you had broached that topic of conversation, Tony seemed more curious than you, as you had already gone back to further contemplating the photographs.

"Will we like it?" he asked, catching your attention again.

"I don't know," you said with a shrug.

" Should we try it?" asked your best friend cheerfully, expecting an affirmative answer from you.

"You and me?" you asked unreceptive to the idea Tony had just proposed.

"Yeah, why not, we love each other, that's all we need, you said it," he smiled brimming with innocence.

"I don't know..." you frowned thoughtfully, not sure if it was quite right what he was proposing. "What if we don't like it?"

"I guess it's okay," Tony stood up and grabbed your hand to pull you up.

"Wait, how do we do this?" you asked nervously, looking into his eyes.

"You just close your eyes," he informed. "I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay." You couldn't help but let out a small nervous laugh, which prompted another one from Tony.

"Okay, close your eyes," he said again. "When I kiss you, mentally count to five."

You finally agreed to comply with the guidelines offered by your best friend. There you were, standing in the middle of that cabin, wearing a yellow strapless dress with your eyes closed, waiting for your best friend to approach you and give you your first kiss. After closing your eyes, Tony took three seconds to approach you, put his lips against yours and you mentally counted to five. The sensation was strange, very particular, you didn't know enough words at that time to express it and you didn't know much about feelings and love, so you couldn't stand the five seconds he proposed and after the third one you broke away, wiping your lips vigorously with your hand.

"It's awful!" you exclaimed looking at your friend. "I don't understand my parents!"

Tony seemed surprised at your reaction, but quickly joined in your disgust, falsely, as he hadn't found the experience so terrible.

And he was also the second kiss.

It was the summer of 1984, two friends on bicycles riding through the wooded area that separated your houses from the lake, laughing, struggling to find out who would get there first, but a pothole appeared in the road and a badly positioned stone caused your front wheel to lose its balance, overturning your bicycle. Tony behind you, instantly slowed down with a look of concern on his face, contemplating Tony behind you, brakes instantly with a look of concern on his face, staring at your bloodied knee.

"Are you okay?" asks your best friend with a tone of concern in his voice rushing towards you.

Without responding you stand up, trying to recover from your fall and discovering the pain as your leg hits the ground, Tony is already kneeling down, analysing the scrape you've made on your knee.

"Come lean on me," he drapes your right arm across his shoulders. "Come on under that tree, I'll clean your wound."

After positioning yourself comfortably in the shade of the oak tree, Tony runs back to his bike to get the canteen.

"Don't worry," you squeaked from a distance, playing it down. "I'm fine."

"Are you going to stop your stubbornness and let me clean the wound?" Tony arched an eyebrow which elicited a chuckle from you. "Thanks."

As the water poured over your wound you felt a stinging prickle, which was relieved when you wrapped your hand tightly around Tony's arm.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed as he felt your strength in his arm.

"Ouch me!" you groaned at his complaint, generating a chuckle from your friend's mouth.

"Okay, that's it," he said, closing the canteen. "You know you're the poster child for Newton's three laws? The law of inertia, the fundamental law of dynamics and the principle of action and reaction."

"And you are the clearest example of the idiot's law," you said with a laugh, for I had just called you clumsy in a clever way.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you. "But I'm your idiot."

That was one of those moments when Tony would crush you against him and start giving you quick kisses all over your face just because he knew how much that annoyed you, but it made you laugh at the same time.

"Tony!" you exclaimed with laughter, trying to run away from him.

Coincidences can happen, but you never knew if it was a real coincidence due to the fast movements of both of you or if there was really an intention behind it, but Tony kissed your lips, pausing a little longer than usual. You, thinking it was unintentional, kept pushing him and your eyes widened in laughter.

"Whoa! Sorry," he said quickly. "Law of inertia, not my fault."

You laughed and gave him another shove, leaving what had just happened forgotten in your mind.

And the third.

It happened when you were in eleventh grade, Tony had always been a very joking child and sometimes his innocence did not allow him to realise the level of his jokes or how they were going to affect the people who made them. He had discovered early on that one thing he loved most was making you laugh, so day after day he would try anything to get a laugh out of you. That ranged from pretending to trip, to throwing his spaghetti at the first person he passed in the school cafeteria.

Eventually his personality caught people's attention, let's say the law of attraction was in his persona and that became present by high school, so if you connect his joking side with the attractive side it creates a bomb.

For you that discovery came a little late, too late, at least that's what you thought at that moment when you saw him connecting intimately with a girl in a higher grade than you. You hated yourself for having been so blind for so long, for not having realised it before and also for having that kind of feeling towards your best, because they could destroy everything you had created for so many years, practically since you were born. You told yourself that it was stupid, that it was probably just a passing thought and that you would soon forget about it, that it would be better not to give it any importance. But it wasn't.

You decided that one of the best ways to let off steam would be to write down how you felt, to write down every thought that came into your head and let it go forever. It would have been the best way in the world if you hadn't confused that notebook with your physics notebook, put it in your backpack and forgotten your backpack at Tony's house when you decided to go to the movies instead of studying that afternoon.

It was too late when you discovered the event, you were about to free your mind when you picked up the blue notebook and discovered that it was the physics notebook, therefore the notebook where you were exploring your thoughts would be....

"Tony!" you exclaimed into the earpiece.

"What's up, it's 12 o'clock at night?" his sleepy voice could be heard on the other end of the receiver.

"Do you know... I don't know, did I by any chance leave my backpack with my books in it at your place?" you asked, praying that I hadn't been gossiping in it.

"Your backpack? Let me go," he asked and a small knock was heard from the other side causing a minute's silence. "Yeah, it's in my room."

"Okay..." you said in a whisper. "Uh..."

"Do you need it now?" he asked somewhat strangely. "Don't you have your homework done? If you want I can finish it in a moment."

"No, no, no!" you exclaimed quickly. "It's all good, all done, don't worry, everything's great."

"Okay," he said dismissively. "Then tomorrow when I come to pick you up I'll bring it to you."

"Yeah, great, yeah," your nervousness increased, you wanted to tell him not to look inside, but you knew that by telling him he would probably end up doing it, so you preferred not to say anything else and let whatever happened happen happen.

The next morning Tony turned up as usual, with a smile on his face, chatty, funny and you knew that nothing had happened and nothing had changed, in short, a big weight was lifted off your shoulders.

"Shall we go to physics class? Mr. Gilbert will be looking forward to my dissertation on atoms and the origin of the Big Bang," he said closing his locker. "I think you'll like it too."

"You go ahead," you said, waiting for him to leave to exchange notebooks. "I'll catch up with you."

"Alright."

You waited for him to disappear into the crowd to make the exchange, but first you glanced around checking for any sign that someone had read it, however....

"In the first seconds after the Big Bang, the density and warmth of the universe barely allowed life to generate. As the universe cooled, the matter we are made of began to appear: quarks and electrons, which gave way to protons and neutrons, and then nuclei. As it expanded, things began to happen more slowly, until electrons became trapped in orbits to form the first atoms. Those atoms gave way to stars and galaxies, which uniformly gave way to life, to you and me. So you see, you just have to let the universe do its work, because you and I are those atoms that came together hundreds of millions of years ago and were created to be together."

A structural blockage was happening inside you at that moment, you read that paragraph over and over and over again, until there was hardly anyone left around you. Your heart was pounding fervently, causing sweat to break out all over your body. Your sanity was gone, you didn't know what to do, where to go, or how to act, you just wanted to escape. When your physical block passed, you gathered all your belongings from your locker and headed outside, trying to get some air back into your lungs. The only thing that was going through your mind was that your best friend had read those fifty-seven pages you had written for the moment, where you expressed, without any caution, everything that was going through your mind about him, accentuating your romantic feelings.

You wanted to disappear at that very moment, to go into a burrow or a bunker and stay there until it was all over. Your heart was pounding in your chest, you were walking aimlessly, but as far away from that building as possible. How could you not have noticed anything about Tony to let you know that he had read it? You were so distressed that you barely analysed what he had written to you, where he also expressed his feelings in his own particular way. You finally found an escape at the bus stop, wishing for a bus to go somewhere far away as soon as possible.

Every word that came out of you was a curse, at you of course. Reminding you what an idiot you had been, that you had ruined the best thing you had, that you couldn't have been more stupid, and hundreds of negative things that prevented you from getting out of that black bubble you had created for yourself, but as always he had to appear to make you see reason.

"Y/N!" Tony's voice was heard behind you. "What are you doing?"

Your eyes closed and you prayed it wasn't true what you were hearing, but it was too late, you had to face the truth.

"Hey!" Tony stepped up beside you. "If we were going to make up from physics class you could have at least given me a heads up. I looked like an idiot when I saw you through the window walking out of school." You looked away, didn't say anything. "What's wrong with you?"

It was bad enough what you were going through without having to put up with Tony's attitude, who showed his indifference as if nothing had happened, a fact that pissed you off even more.

"No! What the hell is wrong with you?" you said angrily. "Why did you read my diary? Who the hell gave you permission?"

"Okay, fine. I did," he began, relaxing the tone of his voice and avoiding not smiling, because he knew it might make you even angrier. "But for my defence I promise you it was after I spoke to you on the phone, I saw you so nervous I thought you lied to me when you said you had your homework done, so I checked, and I must say I couldn't stop reading when I started. I know! I should have stopped, it's something very intimate and personal, but... I just couldn't," he paused. "And I don't regret it."

After hearing his last words you opened your eyes in surprise and shook your head indignantly for having heard him say that he did not regret doing it.

"No regrets?" you folded your arms, stopping the tears of anger that had welled up in your eyes from sliding down your cheek.

"No," Tony said firmly. "And I never will."

"This is insane," you shook your head turning away.

"Listen," Tony interjected, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to face him. "Have you stopped to think about what I've written or are you just focused on the fact that I've read your diary?" he asked searching your gaze. "Better yet, is it true? Is everything you've written in there true? Do you feel that way? Are you... in love with me?"

"Oh my god..." shame had taken over your anger and all you wanted to do was run away from there, but Tony's hand around your right arm prevented you from doing so.

"Please, just answer me," he begged.

"I..." you looked around avoiding answering that question, focused on your world and your feelings. "I don't know."

" Well, that's good enough for me."

That "I don't know" was enough for Tony, because he discovered that there was a "yes" hidden in them, therefore he didn't hesitate to approach your face and do what he had been wanting to do for so long, kiss you. His words were true when he said that he didn't regret it and he was never going to do it because probably if it hadn't been for his intention to do your homework, he would never have read that diary and neither of you would probably ever have told the other how you really felt, because you were afraid of breaking what had been created from the moment you were born.

As I said at the beginning, the fine line that separates love from friendship sometimes gets cut without us realising it, and when we do realise it, we think it's too late or that maybe it would be better not to take the risk, because things could turn around and change for the worse, but who says they can't get better? That love can't triumph?

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[bnhayyy]

No Apology Enough

Summary: Ochako sought Bakugou out in the hospital to discuss their shared grief. She didn't expect guilt to make an appearance.

Wordcount: 2.8k

Notes: Contains spoilers for the war arc. Can be found on Ao3 here. If you like it, please consider commenting, sending an ask, or donating to my ko-fi!

She could not stop the rhythmic tap, tap, tap from resonating through the hospital no matter how softly she tried to step. The sound was all-consuming in its quietness, seeming to highlight the silence around it. That hospital itself was not quiet, of course. There was always something to be heard if you strained your ears: the distant beeping of a heart monitor, the squeaking of wheels as orderlies pushed their carts around, the quiet murmuring of doctors, the creaking of doors as they opened and closed, the distant crying of a patient as they encountered a new form of despair.

There was always something to be heard in a hospital. It might be quiet, but it was there. What was absent were the sounds that came with any sort of happy life. It was static, fragile, hopeless. It was the sort of simultaneous noise and silence that made gentle tapping of sneakers against linoleum—the sound of life and motion—stand out starkly.

Ochako didn't remember it being so bad while she was in the hospital, yet now that she was returning for a quick visit, it was suffocating.

The feeling intensified as she drew closer to a certain room. Ochako's pace began to slow without her realizing it, her eyes automatically drawn toward the door. It was plain, with a few papers attached to it. Such an inconspicuous thing, and yet beyond it, she knew—

Did she know? The receptionist had told her that he was still asleep, but the receptionist was only human. Fallible. But him, he was—the thought of him being stuck like that—

Maybe the receptionist was wrong. Or maybe they weren't, but he had only just woken up and they didn't know yet. Or maybe he hadn't, but would if she just went inside. Her presence hadn't changed anything, but maybe this time, if she just hoped a little harder or believed in him a little more, said the right thing or—

No.

Ochako blinked and found her arm outstretched, fingertips millimeters away from brushing the doorknob. When had she walked over to the door?

Her throat felt like it was being scraped by shards of glass as she took a step back. Then another. And another. Finally, she turned back around and continued down the hall. She picked up her pace and balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. There was nothing she could do to keep her eyes from watering, but she handled it by rapidly blinking. It felt like her eyes were mostly dry by the time she reached the door that heralded her destination. Good. This wasn't something she could walk into teary-eyed.

Where the other door had been wood with several papers attached to it, this one was a metal frame surrounding an unobscured pane of plexiglass. A little garden was on the other side. Most of it was composed of a verdant green lawn, but the edges were adorned with bushes, patches of flowers, and little statues of angels.

There was also a stone bench. And on that bench sat a familiar figure.

Ochako took a moment to blink any remaining moisture out of her eyes before pushing the door open.

"Bakugou?"

He shot a look over his shoulder at her call. The motion was quick, but stiff and strained in a way that made Ochako wince. All but a few small bandages had been removed from Bakugou's face, but she could see more under his collar, peeking up from the high-necked shirt he wore.

A pang of guilt echoed in Ochako's chest. She hadn't thought the hospital was too bad, but she hadn't been stuck in it for very long. Bakugou had been stuck for over a week now. He wasn't the only one, she remembered the sorry state Todoroki had been in the last time she'd seen him, yet the thought of someone as explosive and wild as Bakugou being left to waste away stung that much more keenly.

At least Deku doesn't know he... the thought fizzled out before it could finish.

"Round Face?" Bakugou asked. It was only then that she realized it had taken him an unusually long time to respond. Sure, maybe not by other people's standards, but for Bakugou Katsuki, a few seconds might as well be an hour.

It was as she was considering this that Bakugou narrowed his eyes. Ochako frowned and nearly took a step back; had he picked up on the concern that had stepped up to join the guilt? The last thing she wanted was to offend him with her worry.

Then again, a traitorous voice whispered, you didn't help rescue him from the villains because you didn't want to offend him.

Ochako hadn't hurt the odds by staying behind back then. She knew that. Her absence didn't make anything worse—it couldn't have. But it hadn't helped with anything either. She'd lived with that knowledge without it bothering her for months, but now...

"What are you doing here?" Bakugou pressed, his voice sparking with irritation. It was almost a relief. If he was able to get annoyed with her, at least this place hadn't completely crushed his spirit.

"The receptionist told me I could find you here," Ochako said. She felt an uncomfortable tightness in her fingers as she spoke. A quick glance down revealed that she had clasped her hands in front of herself and started wringing them at some point. She resisted the urge to grimace as she forced herself to drop them down to her side.

Bakugou scoffed. "Traitorous old bat," he grumbled. His gaze wandered behind her, as if he could glare at the old lady behind the visitation counter if only he strained hard enough. Or maybe he was looking for something else entirely. Someone else. He stayed that way for several heartbeats before his attention snapped back to Ochako, as if he had never looked away in the first place.

But he had looked. He had looked, and in doing so, the tension that was already hanging in the air had become that much heavier.

"Not that," Bakugou clarified.

"Then why did you call the receptionist a traitorous old bat?" Ochako asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could think to try and stop them. Perhaps it was better that she didn't. Anything to loosen the invisible noose that hung around both their necks.

"Because she is!" Bakugou cried. He threw a hand up to run it through his hair. It only got about halfway through before a bandage wrapped around his palm seemed to get caught on a lock. He yanked the hand free with a growl and dropped it into his lap. His eyes followed it, causing him to turn away from Ochako in the process.

Ochako hesitated. There was nothing to do in this situation, it seemed, except hesitate. Unless...

She approached him slowly—carefully. As if he were a predator that would lash out if she misunderstood and did the wrong thing, or maybe a smaller animal, injured and cornered. Maybe he was a bit of both.

He didn't say anything as she sat down next to him. In return, she maintained the silence. She didn't know how long they sat without speaking. Then, in a voice that was neither rough nor fragile, but fractured all the same, he said, "I meant why are you with me and not Deku."

Ochako swallowed heavily. There it was, the billion-yen question. The one she had known was coming but didn't have an answer to. At least, not one that she could trust he would be alright with receiving.

She could just tell him a lie that would appeal to his ego. It would be the easier thing to do. She was almost certain it was what he would be happier with.

It wasn't what he needed, though. And after everything that had happened, everything their class had gone through, what they were still struggling with... the truth could sting even when it was supposed to be soft. It could insult and it could chafe. Yet as she thought about it, maybe there was a degree of respect in telling someone a difficult truth when a lie would be so much easier for everyone.

Bakugou deserved her respect, even if only in return for giving her his. Did he know, she wondered, the weight that held in her heart?

It wasn't just respect returned though. It couldn't be. They might not have been as close to each other as some of their classmates, but the fact remained...

"He isn't my only friend in the hospital," Ochako said.

Bakugou snorted, but didn't rebuff her remark. It was an admittedly low bar. It was enough. It gave her the will to push forward, her voice lowering ever so fractionally as she continued, "and... I know I'm not the only one struggling with it."

She didn't know how, yet despite the fact that he was looking down and away from her, if asked, Ochako would have sworn that she saw Bakugou's expression darken.

"I shouldn't," Bakugou said. The heavy tone of his voice made Ochako squirm, but before she could attempt to piece together a response, he continued, "I don't have the right."

That made her pause.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Bakugou's head twitched fractionally, like he was going to look at her, but his gaze ultimately remained on the ground. Ochako felt her hands twitch in agitated frustration.

"Caring about someone isn't something you have to earn, Bakugou," she said. "Especially not when they're hurt like this!"

"You don't get it!" Bakugou snapped. He finally looked up to reveal eyes that were growing red around the rims and a glare that managed to convey more despair than anger. "You have eyes, don't you! I've treated him like shit. And it used to be worse. Way fucking worse.”

His voice cut off with a strangled noise that sounded like it should be an expression of rage. She knew it wasn't. Not rage that was geared toward her or Deku, anyway.

“What do you mean?” Ochako tentatively asked.

Bakugou scoffed. "Isn't it obvious?"

He paused, all too clearly waiting for a response. When she failed to give him anything but silence and a soft, questioning gaze, he looked back down at his feet.

"Bakugou," Ochako pressed, her voice only just loud enough to reach him. "What do you mean by worse?"

Silence. His jaw flexed and relaxed several times. It was an odd sight to see on someone who was usually so quick to say whatever was on his mind. As the silence dragged on, nervous energy began to gather in her hands. She placed them in her lap and wove her fingers together in the hope that it might eliminate it. No such luck. Ochako stared blankly at them for a few seconds before looking back up at Bakugou. He was still staring at his feet, looking very much lost in his own mind.

Did I push too far?

The thought was accompanied by the feeling of her heart threatening to sink into her stomach. She bit her lower lip and tried to push the feeling down, only for it to intensify instead.

Just as Ochako moved to open her mouth, Bakugou began, "A lot of that shit isn't mine to say."

Ochako unclasped her hands and sat up a little straighter. Suddenly, that urge to move was nowhere to be found.

"But I gave Deku a lot of grief because he... because he wasn't as strong as me. Because I didn't want him to have the chance to get stronger than me." Bakugou looked up, and for a second, his gaze caught hers. That look managed to say what his voice didn't. It said, I was scared. And maybe he still was, because although he didn't look back down at the ground, he did break eye-contact before he continued. "Then, just before UA, I said something fucking unforgivable. And now he's like this."

Ochako's swallowed even though it felt like her throat was full of razors. "Whether it's forgivable or not... that's not for you to decide," she said.

"Only a moron would forgive something like that," Bakugou growled.

"Well, maybe you have to be a little bit of a moron to be a good person. And Deku's a very good person."

Bakugou's gaze twitched a little more to the side, a little further away from her line of sight. She thought she saw his eyes glisten.

"Have you talked to him about it?" she asked.

Bakugou took a deep, rasping breath. The sound of it almost made her wince. "A little," he said. "During the fight."

Ochako opened her mouth—and shut it immediately. A voice in her head nagged her to ask what had happened, but a subtle yet unwavering ache in her chest said that it wasn't any of her business. Whatever had happened, it clearly hadn't been enough to put his heart and mind at ease.

"You can always talk some about it together," she suggested. "After... after he wakes up."

The breath seemed to leave her chest as the words left her lips. Had that been the right thing to say? Already she felt herself tensing, prepared to argue in defense of optimism if Bakugou tried to assume the worst.

Instead, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he murmured.

And that—the sheer exhaustion he radiated—was almost worse.

"Hey." Ochako's body moved without thinking. She reached out to press the palm of her hand against Bakugou's face, one pinky carefully pulled back. The warmth of his skin against hers was a jolt to her senses, but not as much as his eyes opening and latching onto hers, making her breath catch in her throat, just for a moment. Yet somehow, somehow, she managed to keep talking. "There's also something else you can do."

"Oh yeah?" His voice was challenging, a bit of that edge creeping back in, but he didn't pull away from her touch. Not yet. And that, more than anything, spoke volumes. It helped her to smile. Not because she was happy, but not because she was forcing it either. She smiled because he needed it. They both did.

"Yeah," she said. "You can try to get better. As a hero, but also as a friend, as a civilian... as a person." Something in Bakugou's expression faltered, but she carried on. "I know that Deku believes in you, and it sounds like he's seen you at your worst. So when he wakes up... let him see you at your best."

In the seconds that followed, neither of them spoke. There was no room for words in the lingering void left by the person that wasn't there. It was a weight that would haunt both of them until Izuku was a waking part of their lives once more. However, a few seconds could not last forever. Bakugou nodded, and she dropped her hand back into her lap.

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "I might do that." He paused for a heartbeat before chuckling, a grin that might have worried her at another time spreading across his face. Instead, she just felt relieved. "Sleeping dumbfuck will never see it coming. I'll make him piss himself in amazement!"

Ochako couldn't quite take his bold vulgarity at face value. There was still a whisper of something pained and hesitant behind his eyes. It was progress though—in more ways than one.

"I look forward to it," she said.

"You should." Bakugou stood up. It looked like it was meant to be a bold, sudden motion, but it struck her as stumbling and difficult. Unable to help herself, Ochako winced and began to extend a hand, only for him to wave her off. "If I can walk without crutches, I sure as hell can walk without someone holding my hand," he said.

Said. Not yelled. Said. Ochako allowed a hint of a smile to pull at her lips. "Alright."

"I'm gonna head back to my room before the nurses flip their shit," he added.

Ochako nodded. "Alright. I... think I'll stay here for a little while." She glanced around the little garden, with its bushes and flowers—an oasis of respite in a place of misery. "It's peaceful."

"It's boring as shit," Bakugou grumbled.

"Some of us like boring sometimes," Ochako shot back.

Bakugou snorted. "You have shit taste." With that, he hobbled over to the hospital door. He didn't look back at her as he called, "see you around, Round Face."

Then it was just her and the garden—which was just as well. She had a lot to think about.

[bbywonu]

soulmate au. vernon.

masterlist

part one

!girlgroupreader x vernon

a/n: feedback is welcomed and would be much appreciated. have a wonderful day loves <3

requested: no <3

summary: in which you and your soulmate are connected by physical pain. 

word count: 1.4k.

I laughed along with Ingrid and her boyfriend as they had told a funny story to our friends. Owen had decided to fly over here to surprise Ingrid and to congratulate us on another successful album. I thought it was sweet the way he looked at her every time she would let out a laugh, or how he would look at her with stars in his eyes whenever she would speak. I also however found it mildly disgusting. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good love story here and there, but I hate people. People are the worst.

Have I ever had my heart broken? No. Have I ever broken a few hearts? Sure. My problem is that I always self sabotage relationships. I had grown up listening to stories about the origins of soulmates and how we “shouldn’t give up hope because ours are out there somewhere”. At first I believed it because how could I not? I would wake up with bruises and then maybe feel a little pinch here and there while I was in class, and every so often have to go to the nurses office to lay down because suddenly I have a huge headache. 

I would keep myself up at night thinking about what my soulmate was like. I couldn’t wait to meet them, and knowing that I didn’t have any information about this mystery person, my heart yearned. With a heavy heart, I gradually tried ignoring everything I had learned about soulmates. I mean, what were the odds that I would actually meet my person? I dated a few times in high school but was never truly satisfied because deep down, I knew that I could have someone out there that was just for me.

So here I was on a Thursday night, at the studio with a bunch of friends and coworkers celebrating our groups new album release. We were currently in South Korea were we would be performing at MAMA in a few days. Needless to say, we had all been in high spirits recently. I put down my glass of apple cider that my manager had jokingly given me, regarding that I wasn’t quite the legal age yet. I took a quick glance around me and decided I would get a breath of fresh air. 

I plugged in my earbuds as I walked through the cold air and into the night. I came to a stop beside the Han River as I decided to admire the Banpo Bridge in the distance. I usually couldn’t get out very often thanks to our tight schedules. It was times like these that I knew I shouldn’t take for granted. I took a picture for my instagram story and began walking back to the studio. As I turned to walk back, I tripped over my own two feet falling down and scraping my hand in the process. 

“They’re gonna feel that one.”

-

Arriving at MAMA, I couldn’t help but play with my fingers I was so nervous. Thinking about how many idols we would be seeing and meeting made my stomach, though I was really only familiar with a few. We had been practicing our dance routine for this performance for quite some time now, and even though we had everything down, I still felt anxious as we got ready backstage.

“Vera! You look so good!” Mina complimented.  

Vera laughed as she sent her air kisses. We had decided to change up our look a little for our new album, seeing as we went with a darker theme. Though we weren’t complaining, we looked like total queens. I was excited to see who all would be attending the event, as I hadn’t checked beforehand.

We were led by our manager to another section in which we had a few minutes to warm up. Deciding that we were all warmed up, we started joking around with each other for a few minutes as it was almost our cue to get on stage. I saw that some of our staff was carrying water bottles, so I decided to run over and get some before we were called out.

“Y/N!” I heard someone call out. I turned around to see my manager waving at me to come over. I gave her a thumbs up and quickly thanked the staff member as I began to jog back towards her. I turned too quickly and slammed my hip into the table right next to me. Before I could let out a groan in pain, I looked out of the corner of my eye at someone who also seemed to be bent over in obvious pain. I regained my composure as I stood up and kept staring at him. I scanned my eyes over his group members who began teasing him over his misfortune. My eyes made contact with one of his members who seemed rather intrigued with me.

Much to my dismay, our manager pulled me away before I could even think about what just happened. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Right, it couldn’t have been anything but a coincidence. I looked back at his group to see that him and his group members were talking avidly amongst each other.

As we performed our title song, I felt myself become less anxious as our execution so far was flawless. Singing next to my members, my mind wandered to the guy backstage. Come to think of it, he was quite attractive, remembering the short moments I had stared at him. I shook my head focusing more on our performance as I had almost missed my verse.

We walked backstage as we all had smiles on our faces from how well our performance had gone. Mina and Vera were chatting excitedly amongst the staff members as they thanked them for their hard work. Ingrid gave me a quick hug as she spotted Owen talking to our manager. I winked at her as she stuck her tongue out at me playfully. I caught up with Vera and Mina as we walked back to our dressing room.

“Whoever my soulmate is, I’m going to fight them.”

“Why?” Mina asked.

“Why?” I held back a chuckle as Vera looked at her as if she had two heads. “Why? Because when we transitioned into our dance break, I felt like Thor had just hit me in the shin with Mjolnir.”

“Maybe your soulmate is a soccer player”

“Well he’s not very good.” She said as we all let out a chuckle. Regarding soulmates, I felt as if Vera and I were on completely different spectrums. She was absolutely obsessed with anything and everything to do with soulmates. Even though that odd incident happened earlier, I shook it to the back of my mind feeling quite silly.

We turned the corner and I made eye contact with the same guy before. He smirked a little before calling out to the guy who had been in pain previously. My breath hitched a little, feeling nervous that I would soon make eye contact with him. I felt my cheeks get hot as we gradually made eye contact. There were so many thoughts racing through my mind, though they were cut short when I suddenly felt a dull pain shoot through my right shoulder. I looked over to see that Mina was laughing at Vera, who I suspect was the cause of my pain.

I was about to ask her why she did that when she nodded her head in the guy’s direction. I looked over to see that he was rubbing his shoulder as well. Through the laughs of his group members, our eyes connected and he gave me a shy smile as he walked over. My heart raced more and more as he got closer.

“Hi, I’m Vernon.” He said with a small smile. His cheeks were flushed a light pink as he rubbed the back of his neck in anticipation. I smiled at how handsome he was. I still hadn’t fully processed what had just happened yet. Realizing I was staring, I looked down shyly as I felt my cheeks get even hotter.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” I let out a small chuckle as I looked up at him. This all felt so surreal. No relationships or meetings that I have had in the past with anybody could have compared to what my heart felt for him in this very moment.

“Nice to meet you Y/N.”

I could already hear the squeal Vera would let out when she would soon learn that I had met my soulmate. Maybe she wasn’t totally crazy to think that all of those old folk stories were wrong after all. Oh dear, is it too early to say I’m in love?  

[tsarisfanfiction]

End of Blue: Chapter 1

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon Tracy, Scott Tracy, Tracy Brothers

Thunderbird One’s dead in the water.  Scott Tracy isn’t responding.  Rescues never feel the same when it’s one of their own they have to save.

~~~ Once again, you can all thank, or blame, the wonderful @gumnut-logic for this thing.  Two seemingly unrelated vague conversations have ended up culminating in one of my specialties - yup, another Scott!whump, as though I haven’t written enough of these already (no such thing as enough!).  Not sure how frequently this is going to be updated - or how long it’ll be.  I know what Chapter 2 is going to do and I know there will need to be at least one more chapter after that, but muses do weird things.  Title has been snaffled from Beast in Black’s “End of the World”, make of that what you will.

“Gordon!”

John appeared in front of him, looking not quite his usual calm self.  For John to be showing that, even to a brother who’d learnt to read his nuances, meant that something was very, very wrong.

Gordon’s hands inadvertently tightened on the controls of Thunderbird Four as he held the sinking ship steady while Alan did the evac in Thunderbird Two.  This sounded like terrible timing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, skipping all the quips he’d make if it was just a regular check-in.  The loss of John’s fantastic poker face and resulting prickles down his spine told him it was far from one.

“How long until evac’s done?” his space-residing brother asked.  An unusual question from their Eye In The Sky, but with Thunderbird Five under annual maintenance, the ginger didn’t have all his usual data.  Not even half of it.  Maybe that was causing the panic, but it was just that – annual. Nothing unusual, if universally disliked.

“Alan’s clearing the last of them now,” he said.  “But I’ve been asked to hold the ship steady until the GDF get here; they’re suspecting something’s-”

“Screw the GDF,” John interrupted, and woah something was really niggling him if he was getting that obviously frantic.  “The first instant you can let go of that ship, get the hell back to Two.”

That was not John-typical at all.  Gordon’s squid sense almost exploded.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “John, where do I need to be?”  He was running through scenarios but he couldn’t think of a single reason John would be hurrying him like this.  Not unless-

“Thunderbird One’s down.”

Shit.  “In the ocean?”

“North Pacific.”

That was the other side of the world.  Two hours, easy, until they got there, and they didn’t even have Virgil to get all the juice out of his ‘bird, what with the collection of broken bones he’d acquired on the last rescue.  Gordon forced his hands to relax before he inadvertently gave Four a command he didn’t mean to.

“Scott?”  Thunderbird One was watertight, she should be able to hold out as long as she wasn’t too deep.  As long as whatever had taken her down hadn’t compromised that… What the hell even took her down?

“Not answering.”  John always looked a shade or two off through the holograms, but Gordon suspected that this time the too-pale skin wasn’t entirely a trick of technology.  “Too much of Thunderbird Five is still offline; I don’t have telemetry.  Brains and EOS are working as fast as they can, but it’ll still be a few more hours before she’s fully back online.”

Gordon was just grateful enough of her was online to register One’s crash.

“Have you told Alan?” he asked.

“He knows you need to get to the North Pacific yesterday,” John answered.  “Not why.”

Alan was going to be furious at being left in the dark, but Gordon understood why.  He’d have to fill him in on the flight over.

“We’ll get there,” he promised, because there wasn’t another option.  They had to.  “Give me updates as you get them.”

“F.A.B.”  It was a reluctant acknowledgement, but they both knew John was almost useless until Five was fully online.  “I’ll update Tracy Island.”

Gordon did not envy him that task one bit.  Virgil was going to freak out.  Badly.

“That’s the last of them, Gordon,” Alan broke in.  “John says-”

“On my way,” Gordon interrupted – okay, so he was a little frazzled, too.  Sue him.  It wasn’t every day he had to rescue his eldest brother from an unplanned watery landing.  “John told me.  I’ll fill you in on the details when we’re on the way.”  He released the ship and shot back towards his floating module as fast as Thunderbird Four could handle.  “Don’t wait for me to get out of Four.  Grab the module as soon as I’m docked and go.”

“What about the crew? We need to drop them off, remember?”

Gordon had forgotten about the crew.  “Any of them need the hospital?”  A high-speed spin and he was in position for the cable to draw Thunderbird Four up the ramp.

“No, but-”

“Then they get a joyride in Two.”  Clunk, and the docking began.  Maybe he shouldn’t be authorising a nice round trip for a bunch of sailors, but it was already a two hour journey and they had no idea how badly Scott was hurt, or what sort of damage One had taken.  Gordon had salvaged downed planes before.

They weren’t pretty.

“Gordon, what-”

“Module’s ready for retrieval,” he interrupted, mostly because he didn’t want to answer the inevitable question just yet.  “Haul me up and punch it.”

“F.A.B.”  Alan sounded far from happy, but the familiar noises and rocking sensation of module retrieval began.

Despite his instinct being to run straight to the cockpit and fill Alan in, thereby making sure he was indeed going as fast as Two could go, Gordon took his time with his post-dive checks.  Thunderbird Four needed to be in top condition for the next rescue, and he refused to jeopardise Scott’s safety by fluffing the checks on the ‘bird that was going to save him.

She was, thankfully, just fine.  No warning lights, no errors, scratches or scrapes.  Thunderbird Four was more than ready for the rescue.

Now they just had to wait until they got there.

“Explain,” Alan ordered the moment he entered the cockpit.  The rescued crew were also looking at him attentively, although thankfully none of them seemed to mind the detour.  Gordon ignored them as he sidled into his seat and began checking their flight data.

Alan was a good kid; he’d heard punch it and taken it for the order it was.  Thunderbird Two was travelling at top speed, hurtling through the skies towards her drowning sister with everything she had.

Still, there was always room for a little more, and Gordon flicked a few switches.

“Gordon!”

“Thunderbird One’s down,” he admitted.  Behind them, he heard the unified gasps of shock from their passengers.  “John can’t raise her, and we have no telemetry.”

“In the ocean?” Alan asked. He didn’t sound like he believed it. Gordon just hoped he wasn’t going to go into shock when it sank in.  Hell, he hoped he wasn’t going to go into shock when it sank in.

“Yup.  No more data, no idea why, no contact.  We just know she’s down.”

Despite already reportedly being maxed out, Thunderbird Two sped up.  Gordon knew Virgil hated it when Alan or Scott treated her like their own ‘birds and pushed the limits, but he suspected they might get a pass this time.

Speaking of their grounded older brother…

“Gordon, Alan!”

Virgil looked awful. The pyjamas and general ‘injured person’ vibes – including at least one visible cast and general mummification by bandages – aside, it was entirely too obvious that he’d been filled in on what little they knew.

“Receiving you, Virgil. Any way this girl of yours can go any faster?” he answered.  “Alan’s trying, but he’s not you.”

“Hey!”

“Make sure you get there in one piece!” Virgil demanded.

“That’s the plan,” Alan promised.  “Anything from Scott?”

Virgil’s face tightened, panic and frustration both clearly etched onto his face.  It hurt to look at – Gordon knew he wanted nothing more than to be where Alan was right then, getting every last scrap of speed out of his ‘bird.  Gordon wanted him there, too, and not just for piloting.  Virgil would have a plan, but most importantly, Virgil had the best medical knowledge.  If Scott was hurt – not really an if if they weren’t getting any contact from him – Gordon wanted the best man for the job.

The best man was currently stuck in the infirmary with too many broken bones to be of any practical use even once they got Scott home.  Gordon and Alan were just going to have to make do with their lesser qualifications.

“Nothing,” Virgil growled, as though the word physically pained him.  It probably did.

“Maybe he’s just out of range while Five’s down?” Alan suggested hopefully.  They all knew that wasn’t likely, but Gordon wasn’t going to be the one to shoot it down.  Not when he wanted to believe it, too.

“I’ll try pinging him from Two,” he said instead, both for something to do and in the vain hope that Alan might be right – never mind that geographically they were further from Tracy Island than Thunderbird One was and their comms were working fine.

“Is there anything we can do?” the ship’s captain asked from behind them.  “I know we’re not you guys, but if there’s anything…”

Gordon was so glad they weren’t kicking up a fuss.

“Accept our apologies for the extended trip,” he shrugged.  “Otherwise, there’s not much anyone can do until we know more.”  He opened the line to Thunderbird One.

It connected.  Normally, he’d call that a good start.  Now, it just filled him with dread, because it meant comms weren’t down.

“Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two,” he called.  “Scott, are you receiving?”

Silence.

On the other line, Virgil looked almost as pale as John’s normal holographic visage.  Whether that was the pain from his injuries, or something less physical, Gordon didn’t dare guess.

“Scott!” he tried again. “Thunderbird One, do you hear me?”

Nothing.  Not even a flicker of visual or a semi-conscious groan of pain. Nothing at all.

The thought crossed his mind that Scott wasn’t even in her.

“John, how soon before you get the cameras back online?” he asked.  The ginger head popped up to accompany Virgil’s over the dashboard – Gordon’s earlier observation had been right.  Their faces were both the exact same pallor.  It wasn’t a good look on either of them.  Beside him, Alan wasn’t looking too hot, either.  He didn’t dare think about his own appearance.  “If we can’t raise him, we can at least try and see what we’re dealing with.”

The line had connected, and he hadn’t heard water.  Hopefully that meant she wasn’t leaking and Scott was still comfy and dry, but Gordon wanted to be sure.

Needed to be sure. The rescue would be a lot more complicated without that sort of information.

“Cameras are online, but Thunderbird One’s are turned off right now.”  John’s face was the picture of frustration, and he wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding it in his voice, either.  “It’ll take a little longer before I can access them to turn them on, but EOS is making it a priority.”

Scott never let any of the rest of them turn their internal cameras off.  From now on, Gordon was going to enforce that rule for Thunderbird One, too.  If John and Virgil didn’t beat him to it.

Beside him, Alan was sitting in silence, staring ahead as though if he glared at the world hard enough, he could discover the secrets of teleportation.  Gordon really wished it worked that way.

Sadly, teleportation didn’t exist, and they were having to do things the slow way.  Not that Two was slow, but she certainly wasn’t fast enough.  Not today.

The minutes crawled past like hours.  With Alan firmly in control and channelling Scott’s inner-speed demon as much as the big green ‘bird would allow, there was little for Gordon to do except periodically try to hail Scott, getting ever more concerned as silence persistently responded. He could understand a black-out for a few minutes, but it was – he checked the time – at least an hour since John had contacted him and there was still nothing on the other end of the line.

Virgil was still there, hovering in his bed-bound state and periodically throwing his own frantic calls Scott’s way. Gordon hadn’t even tried to tell him to leave it to them, reminding him that there was nothing he could do.

No-one knew that better than Virgil, after all, and his frustration at his helplessness was steadily mounting the longer the silence persisted.

With no solid information on what they were going to find – external access cameras, which Scott hadn’t turned off, were merrily showing nothing but water and the occasional sea life investigating the strange intruder – Gordon turned his time towards planning.  Plans for an intact Thunderbird One, plans for a leaking Thunderbird One, plans of extraction depending on the severity of Scott’s condition.  He might be going in blind, but he wasn’t going to be going in unprepared.

“Coming up on the co-ordinates now.”  Alan broke through his planning – this scenario involving Thunderbird One somehow stuck and unable to be airlifted – to give him the heads’ up.  His younger brother had been far too subdued the entire flight, and Gordon just hoped he’d be able to keep it together a while longer.  Thunderbird Five wasn’t online enough to have remote control access yet.

And she still didn’t have telemetry, which John was panicking over more and more as Scott continued to be non-responsive, or control over Thunderbird One’s internal cameras.

“F.A.B.,” Gordon responded automatically, getting up from his seat and heading straight for the module and his Thunderbird.  She was just as he’d left her – fully prepared for the next dive – and he settled into the cockpit with ease of experience.

This was just one more rescue.  One with limited information and a brother’s life on the line, but still just one more rescue.  He could do this.

He had to do this.

Pre-dive checks were completed, all systems green and raring to go.  He wondered if she was as anxious to get to her sister as he was his brother.

“Ready for module deployment,” he reported, and barely a moment later they were falling, crashing into the water and rocking for a moment before they stabilised.  “Alan, see if you can get a scan of Thunderbird One’s condition.”  It wouldn’t be as good as a Thunderbird Five scan, but immediately overhead, Thunderbird Two should be able to get something.

Thunderbird Four slid out of the module and under the surface to the tune of his brother’s “F.A.B.” Nose pointed down and sonar active, he pushed her as fast as he dared towards the location they had for the downed Thunderbird.  It wouldn’t be exact – Thunderbird Five’s maintenance downtime crippling the accuracy – but Gordon had enough faith in it to trust that he was at least in range.

Sonar registered the craft just as Alan called him.

“Scans show one life sign,” he said, and Gordon knew he wasn’t imagining the relief in his younger brother’s voice – mostly because he felt it, too.  One life sign meant Scott was alive.  Whatever state he was in, he was alive.  “But Thunderbird One’s been taking on water.  Scans suggest she’s half-flooded.”

That was not such good news. It had to be a small leak, if it was only half after two hours, but with Scott still not responding, he had no idea if his brother was wearing his helmet.

Flooding also meant she was going to be heavier to lift, but the amount of water meant it would be too risky to deploy the tube to link the two craft and attempt to evac Scott into Four. He sent one more ping at the downed Thunderbird, hoping against hope that Scott would answer this time.

He didn’t.

Getting visual on her was a muted sort of relief.  On the one hand, Scott was found, but on the other, Thunderbird One was not supposed to be nestled on the seabed.  It just wasn’t right.

Her wings were still closed, implying she’d been supersonic, and the nose cone was crumpled from the impact with either the water or the sea floor.  Perhaps both.  Gordon suspected that was the source of the leak, but he was more interested in the way she wasn’t entirely belly-down.  Rolled ever so slightly on her side, he should be able to get some sort of visual through the viewing window.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” he belatedly reported.  “Her nose is damaged but otherwise she doesn’t look too bad.  She’s not quite belly-down, so I’m going to go EVA and see what I can see through the viewing window.”

He just needed to see Scott. See that he was okay, see if he had his helmet on and if it was intact.

“Be careful,” John warned. “Your suit won’t hold for long at those depths.”

That was normally Virgil’s line, but Virgil had gone silent.  Gordon would worry about that later, once Scott was safe.

“I just need to check his condition,” he said, tipping backwards into the airlock.  “I won’t be long.”

Compared to Thunderbird Two, Thunderbird One always seemed small.  Somehow, in the wide expanse of the ocean, she looked big.  Crashed machinery instead of sleek ‘bird.  The thought made him shudder as he pushed through the water, heading straight for the panel of window he could see.

Thunderbird One’s emergency lighting was on, dim and shrouding most things in shadow.

It was enough to see that Scott was slumped in the pilot chair.  Definitely unconscious, and also not wearing his helmet, because that would have made Gordon’s job too easy.

It wasn’t enough to see why.

He banged on the glass, in case the vibrations could do what persistent comms couldn’t and rouse his brother.

Nothing.

The water was up past Scott’s boots; Gordon couldn’t see how far but his brother was at least partially submerged.

“Alan, we’ll need the lifting bags.”  There was no way he could safely get Scott out until they were on the surface.

“Coming down to you now.” It was Virgil who responded, deep voice full of determination.  Gordon suspected he’d demanded the remote controls for them.  “How is he?  Can you see him?”

“I can see he’s still in his seat,” Gordon answered.  “Not wearing his helmet, so I can’t evac him until she’s lifted with all that water in her, and still not responding to anything.  It’s too dark to see anything else.”

“Any sign of what brought them down?” John asked.

“Nothing,” Gordon admitted, and that concerned him, because what could bring One down – especially with Scott piloting her?  “Only damage I’m seeing so far is from the landing.”

“Lift bags incoming,” Virgil warned, and he looked up to see the yellow bags descending.

With one last look at his unmoving brother, eerie with the emergency lighting playing over the water inside, he peeled himself away from the viewing window and swam up to meet them, making sure they were firmly attached to the Thunderbird.  No room for error.

“Ready to deploy.”

He swam back to Thunderbird Four, slipping back inside and into the cockpit to watch as the bags inflated and slowly, slowly, peeled the downed ‘bird off of the sea floor.

The ascent seemed to take forever, and Gordon kept pace the entire time, peering through the viewing window as best he could to keep an eye on his brother.  There was no movement at all, no reaction to the way his Thunderbird was rising back up to the surface.

If not for Alan’s report of a life sign, he would have been fearing the worst.  As it was, he was still terrified that something was badly wrong, although with Thunderbird One mostly intact, he wasn’t sure what. There shouldn’t have been anything to knock him out.  Certainly not for this long.

The moment they breached the surface, he latched on to her with Thunderbird Four’s arms and once again left his ‘bird.  Gecko gloves gave him the grip he needed to scramble up to Thunderbird One’s dorsal hatch, and with a quick manual override – that thankfully worked – he dropped down into thigh-deep water inside the Thunderbird.

“Scott!” he called, ignoring frantic demands from his brothers that he update them.  He’d update them when he knew what was going on himself.  Thunderbird One rolled gently with the water she was floating on, somewhat stabilised by Four but not entirely.  Not until clanks told him Alan had fired grapples to lock on.

He waded his way towards the pilot chair, eyeing the way Scott was slumped and already mentally running through all the possible reasons for his unresponsiveness.  A hand on the shoulder of the seat – not his brother until he knew injuries – and he pulled himself the rest of the way until he was in front of Scott, and-

Oh shit.

He must have said it out loud, because suddenly there were three brothers in his ear – loud and frantic – but he only had eyes for his white, white brother.  None of his theories, his suspicions, had been right. Not even close.

Blood-soaked bandages wrapped around Scott’s abdomen, but it wasn’t those that had Gordon’s teeth grinding in a mix of fear and fury.  No.

It was the knife buried hilt-deep.

tbc...

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1.6K~

Summary: The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

A Greg and Steven focused fic, set when Steven is freshly four. This is one of those I had on the poll a month or so back, ahah! Finally finished it. Apologies for the wait. The good news is that my list is now whittled down to three non-Crack the Paragon WIPS! Woo! That’s rather exciting.

There’s some brief meta rambles on the AO3 version. If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

“Where’s yours, Daddy?”

The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

“My...?” Smiling encouragingly, he lets the word dangle unfinished in the air for a moment, and gestures to try and prompt the little tyke to continue. “My what, kiddo? My... pajamas?” he says, pointing towards each item his kid bears in succession. “My... stuffed tiger? My very own... tickle monster?!”

In the spirit of good-hearted mischief, Greg tousles his boy’s dark, flyaway curls. When he then moves his hands to tickle his sides, Steven breaks into delighted peals of laughter, squirming nonstop.

“Noooooo,” he giggles breathlessly, batting his small pudgy hands at him to stop the affectionate onslaught. “No tickles, your gem! Like mine! You ‘aven’t never showed it.”

In an instant, the small universe encapsulated inside their van freezes, and he goes momentarily slack-jawed as he struggles to process the words that just came out of his son’s mouth.

“My- w-where’s my gem?”

He lets out a low chuckle at the absurd thought— imagine that, him, having a gem of his own! Where on Earth did his kid acquire this notion? And then... his memory can’t help but drift back to a few hours earlier, when Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl spent a mission-free day with Steven on the beach, surrounded by all manners of summer tourists. Humans coexisting amongst Gems, most entirely nonplussed by their otherworldly appearances. Steven was eagerly padding across the shore in his brand new swim trunks— the pair he received for his birthday just a week ago— the quartz gem at his navel on proud display. Midway through the afternoon, though, the kiddo seemed to become strangely preoccupied by all the human beachgoers. He’d glance at people’s faces, their sternums, their exposed navels, and then scowl in confusion. At one point he excitedly ran up to a dark skinned young woman with hair like Garnet’s to give her a high-five, and returned puzzled, his lips pressed in a thin line. At the time, Greg didn’t understand what all of his bewildered, curious gawking was about, and quietly instructed him not to bother other people. But now, given this latest comment, a theory builds in his mind... oh stars, was he looking for their gems?

Did he somehow assume both from his own and from his frequency of interaction with Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl that everyone had one hidden somewhere?

Swallowing, he deliberately makes it a point to mask his nervousness about this topic in front of his impressionable four-year-old child as best he can. Oh, boy. They haven’t had this sort of conversation yet. He always kinda feared it was coming, coursing towards him like a tidal wave faster and faster with each passing moment, but never in a million years did he imagine this moment would be tonight. And now, his tongue dry as a stone in his mouth, he finds himself at a complete loss for words. As best he knows, there’s no one else even remotely like Steven in the entire universe. How does one even convey this concept to their child in terms they’d understand?

Because even if he— ignoring the rose quartz gemstone embedded flush with his skin where a typical kid’s belly button would be— looks the part, Steven isn’t human. That much is obvious. That’s simply a fact. Humans don’t glow as babies. They don’t grow so ramrod still while sleeping that they appear like they’re not breathing at all. They can’t casually lift double their body weight at the tender age of four. Not to mention, in all his years of life thus far, he’s never gotten sick. Never gotten a scrape or cut that didn’t heal up completely in less than an hour. Not once. There’s no way that’s by mere coincidence, Greg muses, there’s gotta be another reason. He’s gotta have some sort of mega-boosted immune system or something, or magically healing cells. No branch of human science can successfully justify the alien nuances of his son’s existence. He just... is. He’s a walking miracle, the light of his life.

Steven’s never been a normal child, that’s for sure.

But how is a father supposed to lovingly and sensitively explain this to innocent ears?

“I, erm- I don’t have one of those, bud,” he says slow, still desperately sorting through his thoughts to figure out what else to say about this.

The kid stubbornly wriggles free from his arms, lifting up the bottom hem of his baggy pajama shirt to showcase the glittering pink gemstone resting at the center of his belly. “But I got one, an’ Amethyst an’ Pearl got one, an’ Garnet, she- guess what,” he says in an attempt at a whisper, wide eyed as if he’s about to impart some sacred knowledge. “She even got two gems!”

“That’s right, she does have two gems!” he nods, only barely holding back his chuckle at the hilarious solemnity of his kid’s proclamation. “But Steven, not everyone has ‘em like you and them. It’s something unique to the four of you. Y’see, they are Gems, just like me and everyone else in town are humans. It’s, um—“ his speech falters as he struggles to find words someone so young could possibly begin to understand— “it’s sorta just who they are.”

The corners of Steven’s mouth turn downwards in an exaggerated pout, and it’s immediately obvious that this blind, clumsy attempt at an explanation didn’t satisfy him one bit. Greg leans back against the inner siding of the van, gently tugging at a strand of his hair as he scours his mind for any potential solutions to this parenting quandary.

Think, think, think... How does one connect this topic to things such a young kid might understand?

“Listen, uh...” he begins again, marked hesitation tinting his voice. “Pearl’s been teaching you about bugs lately, right?”

However, if Steven— bless his heart— happened to notice his heightened nervousness, he sure doesn’t let it show on his face, instead enthusiastically jumping to answer his question.

“Uh-huh!” he nods, and then proceeds to happily babble about what he’s learned, flapping his hands in front of him as he does so. “She tells me all about bumble bees an’ stick bugs, an’ these...” His brow creases as he pauses, combing his memory for the right words. “...fuzzy worms? But they aren’t worms, ‘cause they sleep for really super long and then, then they get wings and fly away!”

He can’t help but smile at his son’s animation about this subject. He soaks up knowledge like a sponge, that’s for sure. Between Pearl and him, they’ve been trying to introduce him to some of the basics lately, stuff kids his age should know. Like reading, and writing, and counting, and music, and basic science. Pearl does the math and science, (those classes were never his wheelhouse in school), and he takes care of everything else. Given, erm... given their kinda strained history, they don’t exactly collaborate on lesson plans, but so far the arrangement seems to be working out okay. Steven’s having fun, at least, which is all that matters in the end.

“Oooh, caterpillars and butterflies, huh?” he says, reaching for the thick blanket folded up against the side wall of the van. “Well, y’wanna learn a cool new thing?”

His son bobs his head, his eyes glittering.

“All those bugs you named?” he begins, unfolding the blanket for the two of them as he goes. “They’re each types of completely different creatures, or, different species, we call ‘em. And humans and Gems, they’re types of species too. And every species has something that makes them unique, different from everything else. You know how all those bugs have special things the others don’t have, like the bumble bees and their stripes, and those caterpillars’ fuzz?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, that’s what it’s like for humans and Gems, too! Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl and you, you all have gemstones, just like yours right here,” he says, tapping a gentle finger over the rose quartz embedded at his midsection. Steven lets out a small giggle at the contact. “That’s your special thing as Gems, something humans don’t have.”

“What’ve humans have?” he asks in curiosity, tilting his head.

Greg purses his lips, his fingers subconsciously massaging the blanket’s rough, time-worn surface as he considers the elements that— from personal experience— he’d consider essential to human life. “Hmm. Well, let’s see... I guess... humans eat, and sleep, and grow from babies all the way until they’re adults. Gems don’t age. They don’t really... do any of that.”

“But I can do that!” he whines, brows creasing.

“Hm?”

“I thought you jus’ said I’m a Gem?”

Greg’s breath stills upon the deliverance of this pointed question, spoken with such youthful innocence, and yet wholly capable of penetrating through every layer of his ill-formed logic. He swallows hard. Once again, he is not prepared. He likely never could be.

His son... oh, his beloved Steven. Without meaning to, he keeps ignoring the inherent humanity that sets this boy apart from the rest of the Gems. He’s similar to them in many respects, yes, but he’s also not. He’s both, but...

He’s also neither.

He’s unique from everyone, his own thing altogether. Something entirely new.

Quite honestly, the best word he can grasp at to describe him is hybrid.

And while at this present moment he has no idea if he’s doing his son a disservice, othering him from the rest of humanity at such a tender age, he figures that he at least deserves to know the truth.

“You’re kinda- uh, both, at once, actually,” he clarifies, these very words acting as a beacon to clarify a wide range of once deep-seeded assumptions in his mind. “Gem and human. You’ve got special things from both sides, how funky is that?”

“Huh.” Steven mulls this new information over, and then flashes a toothy grin. “That's cool!”

[redstainedsocks]

Plant Day!

Whumpblr, forgive me for this... xD this is either the best or silliest idea I've ever had and honestly? I think it might be both at once. Heed the tags but also just know nothing is as serious as it seems by the time you reach the end...

for @brutal-nemesis' whump of the month prompt: plant day.

Thank you @muddy-swamp-bitch for helping me work out how to tag this thing

Warnings: cutting, knives, scarification, body horror (???), corpse mutilation [!?], environmental whump, [mass] killing (???), multiple whumpers (but not at the same time), survivors guilt, curses, magical whump, whumpee with she/her pronouns, captured whumpee. Mentions of: eye whump, bugs/insects, slavery whump

The knife wasn’t sharp enough, not for this. It was a hack job, and it wasn’t going to heal pretty. It carved into her slowly, inch by torturous inch, scraping away the surface of her skin. She screamed, but no one seemed to care, it wasn’t like they spoke the same language.

The two people leaning over, peering at her, paused in their work.

I hope crows peck out your eyes

They talked and brushed away the carnage their knife wrought, tittered, went back to their work.

I hope your children never know love, or freedom

It hurt, digging deep into the fibres of her skin. Changing the surface of it forever. It was going to scar, these strange, crude letters forever marring her perfect form.

It was no worse than anything else she had suffered but she resented it all the same.

May bear excrement ruin your water source and wasps sting you to death

Her cries went unheard. And curses didn’t mean a wad of shit if no one observed them. She liked that word shit, she’d learned it from the humans long ago. Shit shit shit, it was all shit.

Long ago, in the days before, she had watched her people be slaughtered. Hacked down one by one, cut to pieces and their bodies heaved off by horses. Horses bound to do the humans bidding, such a wretched life, she thought, but they seemed happy, they hadn’t come to her aid when she called.

She had mourned and grieved her fallen brethren, watched their lifeless forms be stacked and chained together to be burned or put to some other nefarious use, and only hoped that her own pain would end so swiftly. But it was not to be. She had been left to witness, the pain hers alone to bear.

Long, long years passed, held captive in this barren, dying place. The colonies that tried to take up life in her people’s old home were uprooted, shunned. Nothing and no one could prosper here.

She waited a long time; long after the woodcutter, and the woodcutter's son, and the woodcutter’s son’s son…. and, well, she lost track of the generations a bit after that but it had been a while.

The sun was older, the earth quieter. She was cold, her joints creaked and ached and everything was heavy. She had been abandoned by her own people and the humans who had caused their destruction. She alone, left to weather the harsh… weather. Lashed with rain and beaten by the hot sun, no friends left to help give shelter. No happy little breeze now, just the violent waves of wind, unhindered.

Her eyes were cast ever skyward, and it hurt to look at the sky, but it was better than the memories that clung to the earth. She would weep, but it only made her feel sticky and sickly.

One day a mere mortal, not more than three score years and probably not even that—she noted his features were smooth and bare, no whiskers on this one— wandered by. He was dressed strangely but everything they did was strange so she didn’t pay it much attention. He laid a hand on her and she tried to shake it loose.

Stupid humans, no touching, dirty hands, ruinous hands

“What was that?” He murmured.

She thought he was a he, he had that air about him. Entitled. An extra trunk between his legs too, if her eyes weren’t mistaken.

Go back to your cities, cretin

His hand slid around her, feeling for… something. It brushed over the scar of the initials carved into her, that claiming mark.

“Tsk, this won’t do.”

He brought out a knife. Of course he did. Just like all the rest.

He cut into her and she wailed, throwing herself around and trying to get away but it was no use. He just kept on cutting, and though his work seemed like it had a purpose she couldn’t tell what it was. Her life force oozed out around the hole he was making as he cut chunks, stole away parts of her, until a hollow hole was left where part of her should be.

It felt… if not better, certainly different. They were good at change, these humans. She looked skyward again, only feeling a little better when she noticed the scarring marks were gone. He’d cut it away?

Well, more power to him, if he wanted a piece of ruined flesh so be it. She thought no more of it until he came back three moons later and talked to her again.

“I know what you are.”

Oh goodie, someone with some brains for once. Very pleased to meet you I’m sure

“I can hear you, you know.”

I doubt it

“I wouldn’t, if I were you. I know your secret, hiding in plain sight. But you can’t hide from me.”

She stayed silent, thinking, considering. If he was telling the truth…

“You’re no tree,” he murmured, stroking at her with his silly little furless paws. “You’re a wood nymph.”

Hmmph

“No, I said nymph.”

And you are a wizard, what do you want a pat on the back?

“No, just a conversation.”

She was taken aback, she hadn’t talked to anyone for years.

“You must be lonely.”

Obviously

“You’re very grumpy.”

I’ve been stuck in a tree for near three hundred years, you would be too

“There’s not enough magic left for you to get out.”

Congratulations on stating the obvious but there is nowhere I could go anyway

“I have somewhere.” He produced a small box from his pack and her heart—woody though it was—faltered. That was—

“Yes I made this from you.”

Thief!!

“Come now, it won’t be so bad. I have a wonderful collection of items, and creatures, you won’t be lonely.”

I won’t be free

“You’re not free now.”

I won’t go

“Oh yes you will.” He opened the lid of the box, ornately carved and beautifully made but still the desecrated corpse of part of her flesh. Disgusting, sickening. Very pretty but so macabre.

It was powerful magic, runes and other things that should be of no consequence but she was too weak to resist and had been for too long. She screamed, waved her branches, reached for the sky but no great eagle or eager buzzard came to her rescue as she was pulled down, down down into the tiny wooden prison made from her own bones.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” He asked as he snapped the lid tightly shut.

The box rattled with the force of her rage but he wrapped it in cloth and she felt the slide of ropes twinning tightly about her. It was strange, feeling part of herself outside of herself, when it shouldn’t have been part of herself any longer. I was dark and cool inside the box, but that was about the only good thing she could say about it.

Let me out

“No.”

He slipped her into his satchel, and she bounced and shook as he walked further and further away from her home.

Curse you

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. But no, you will be a blessing. A boon to long life, nymphs, if the books are correct. We’ll be happy together.”

I doubt it. Ridiculous boy with your toys and tools, I could never be happy with you

“Hush now, tree, or I’ll leave you in that box forever.”

Shoddy craftsmanship, you should be ashamed

He laughed. “At least I know you’re not going to sulk silently like some of my prizes. No, you’ll be more entertaining.”

She went silent, just to make a point.

“If you’re very good, maybe one day I’ll work out how to re-plant you and you can feel the mud between your toes again. Wouldn’t that be nice? A little glade, lots of life around you, plenty of growing things to watch over.”

She perked up at that, suddenly feeling… was that what hope had felt like? It had been a few decades since she’d last let herself feel it.

“See, I told you. Your old tree may wither and die without you, but you can be new and fresh as a spring bud. As long as you do what you can for me.”

So that was that, she was to be a slave? No worse than she deserved, after watching her people be killed and not able to do anything to stop it. Finally her long awaited fate had caught up to her, it was about time.

Do you have what the humans call television?

“Yes, why?”

I’ve wanted to see what it is, can’t I be curious?

“Well you won’t have eyes for a good long while until I know you can behave, but we could start with some music.”

Nature makes the best music

“You haven’t heard rock’n’roll, just wait.”

[My thought process for writing this was: hmm, plant day. Plant whump... what if... the plant was the thing that was whumped. Hahah, nah... unless 👀?

And I thought about that for like three weeks before finally churning out 1k the night before the event. Sexily unedited, just the raw chaos]