#gotta put wings on the edges of my eyelids

[sourlemonsz]

The brainrot is back yall here's a lil snippet of my next fic

WC:1,292

Vance couldn’t lie, he was going through a tough time right about now. He’d just been through a very public breakup. And he’d just been outed because of said breakup. It was the last leg of his world tour, and this shit show just had to happen. He almost called the tour off before his band mates convinced him not to, they said it was the very last one and he could give a middle finger to all the press and his ex with this last 

concert.

That, unfortunately, won him over. It was just four hours before the concert started and they were doing final sound checks and stagehands were doing their jobs, Vance was in a hotel room spiraling. The press had been doing nonstop runs of their breakup, and his ex was all over tv spitting lies that Vance was nothing but abusive, cruel, and forced him into the relationship. Talk about an overreaction, though none of it was true, and he had no idea how to help himself. Does he also go on tv to deny? Would that make him more guilty?

He lay on his hotel bed face down and not even dressed when a knock came to his door, his band mates’ voices came through the door. “Vance! You gotta come out 

sometime man.” His drummer said.

“Vance! It’s the last one-you can do one more.” His bassist said. He just grunted in response, he heard some sighs. He turned his head toward the door, he could feel his eye bags pulling his face down and his eyelids heavy. And his heart, aching.

The door opened and they both sat on the bed opposite Vance. “Vance, I know this breakup has been hard on you, and if you really need to-you can call it off but it’s only four hours away and a lot of people will be angry.”  Of course, Vance knew this and he was just sulking but he really couldn’t get up.

“Robin!” He heard his bassist whisper shout. He heard a click of his drummer's teeth, “Vance-you want that asshole of an ex to win over you? You just gotta do this last concert and then you can take a break for however long you need. But right now, you gotta do it-it’s too late to call it off man.” 

Vance faced them with his head still on the pillow, “What if I freeze up there? All those eyes on me, I don’t think I could take it.”

To his horror his voice was wavering and teetering towards full on sobbing. He shut his eyes tightly to stop the crying, tears pricked at his eyes and he just flopped into his pillow. He felt a warm hand on his back. They stayed like for who knows how long, until Vance finally was able to get up with encouragement.

His bandmates got him up and helped him freshen up, it was now two hours til the concert and the hotel phone was ringing nonstop, it was his manager.  Billy shouted at him through the phone that if he still wanted to perform he’d better show up or he’ll 

be dropped.

Vance cut him off with a simple, “I’ll be there.”  And hung up before he could say anything else. He told Finney and Robin to get back to the venue before they replace them, he’ll do his makeup on his own.

 After they left he stood in front of his mirror, he looked like a mess. His eyes had deep eye bags and his hair was everywhere. Not like he had his hair under control anyways.

First he put some product in his hair to put the frizz down and to keep it in place, he put some hairspray for the shine. Next the makeup, he taught himself to put it on because someone else putting on makeup was too embarrassing for Vance. He uncapped the eyeliner and carefully drew some lines under his eyes just near his lashes. He then drew on some dramatic wings at the edges of his eyes.

Next was the eyeshadow and glitter, yep glitter. His manager said it was for appeal or something, he couldn’t care less right now. He set the eyeshadow on his eyelids and on his dark eye bags, then the glitter on top of the eyeshadow. He put the glitter on his eyes and his cheeks. He slipped his leather jacket along his tight ripped jeans. Finally his black heavy boots decorated with scratches and tears, then his accessories, dozens of necklaces, and rings.

He looked like he always did, the fucking lead guitarist for his band. He downed two energy drinks that he was sure that made his heart fucking vibrate. He called a cab and made it to the venue. Robin and Finney greeted him with a huge hug and they pushed him to the stage to check if everything was alright. He grabbed his guitar, and put the earpiece in and did their final checks.

He hid out backstage as people started to pour in. Robin and Finney never leave each other's side the whole time. He bristled and tried to soothe himself, he gazed at them and thought of his own ex. He forced himself to look away, his face in his hand-then his earpiece came alive with a voice telling them to be on standby.

They all got up and made their way towards the large stage, the venue was huge, and the people seemed to never stop flowing in. There were probably more people than ever because of the press, no matter how good or bad. He grimaced, his heart jittering, and his hands clammy. How could he sing? Or even play?

The cheers got louder and louder, the pounding in his heart, harder and harder. The stagehand started to dim the lights and the crowd cheered, he closed his eyes and felt a hand on his shoulder-it was Robin. He murmured a thanks and the countdown in their earpieces started.

It finally hit 1 and he had to muster up energy, he came out yelling into the microphone at the very front of the stage, the crowd deafened him as they screamed. He didn’t have any foreplay he just started playing, the crowd lost their minds at the very first chords. 

His voice wavered a couple of times during certain songs, and there were times where he thought he would just crumble on stage. And there were times where he wished he did, with his fingers shaking, and his fingertips raw, the tour was finally over. He breathed heavily into the mic, and his mouth spoke before he even could stop himself. 

His voice reverberated loudly across the venue, “To address what you’re all seeing in the news,” He took the mic off the stand to walk around with it, and the crowd hushed quietly to listen, “yes, I am gay, very sorry ladies.” There were several cheers as well as jeers, but what could you do? “And that is my ex going on his own press tour.” His bandmates were muttering among themselves whether or not to stop him. 

“I just want to clear it up, I have never, in our 3 years, abused or hit him, and I’m gonna ask him for proof, any proof at all. And if you don’t believe me–you can go fuck yourselves.” He dropped the mic unceremoniously and left the stage, it was a moment before the crowd burst into cheers, jeers, and overall chatter rose in volume. 

Gwen ran off to get him, abandoning her keyboard, “Vance! What’d you just do?” She yelled at  him. 

“I think I just ruined my career.” He said with a disbelieving smile.

[sleepykalena]

You got this hun! Try to get a good night’s sleep and eat a good breakfast, and put your game face on 😘

...OH GOD, I FOCUSED SO HARD ON WAKING UP EARLY FOR A SHOWER, BREAKFAST, AND COOKING A LUNCH TO PACK THAT I FORGOT ABOUT THE GAME FACE THING.

Dammit all, now i have to account for time to put on makeup so i can paint my game face on LOLOL

thanks for the reminder, Jen, that was needed in ways I didn’t expect XD

[distract me! ask me anything!]

[mejomonster]

If u want that pointy eyeliner look please buy urself one of the pointy tip eyeliner pens. Save urself if u cannot draw on ur face well ToT

One of these babies. Most eyeliner brands make em so buy whatever brand/color u like. They also come in thicker versions if u want real thick wing eyeliner

You just draw a line out from your outer eye, following the curve of it. So either from corner of bottom eyelid and curved (so straight if you want a straight line), or as a line from the corner in whatever angle u want the wing to be. Until it's as long as u want. Then u connect to the tip, and draw a line back to the top of ur eye where u want the line to stop. If u like a thin wing eyeliner, ur first sweep out from ur eye curve will be all u gotta do. Alternatively if you want you can just trace the top of your eye edge (starting wherever you want it to start so I usually pick the middle of my eye or near the outer edge) and then draw out a little line at the end in the angle you like. If you want thicker eyeliner you can just keep adding to the top line from end point to beginning point. Or you can draw a line from end point of the wing to the inner corner of your eye and just fill it in (very e girl big winged eyeliner), or draw a line from your chosen start point (like middle of eye) to end of wing, then fill in. But again if you got a pen tip to your eyeliner, you may not have to draw and fill in at all - the first sweep of eyeliner will probably the entire shape in one go and you're done.

So like this if you want a huge wing. And depending on your eyeliner brush thickness, you can get an eyeliner like below in one sweep (and the style above can be done in one sweep if you buy a Thick felt tip eyeliner pen so again you can avoid having to draw).

This above can be one sweep from the middle or edge of your eye and upward at angle of your choice (I usually follow my bottom eyelid angle like the pic above does). Then ur done. One quick line drawn and ur done.

This one above can also be drawn in one sweep. Either with a thicker eyeliner pen, or you draw out the wing. Then you draw from wing tip to your inner eye corner in a straight line. And you usually don't have to fill it in cause the eyeliner pen is thick enough it fills it in as you swipe.

Like.

If you want to use liquid eyeliner yes you're gonna have to draw every point. But if you use one of the felt tip pen eyeliners? They're already shaped with a point and a thickness as you draw, so it's very easy to get stable edges and perfect points. It makes eyeliner take less than a minute if you're just doing a small wing, and only a couple minutes max if you're doing a big huge wing like e girls (giving you a couple minutes because bigger wings have more room to accidentally draw one at a different angle or mess up the point as you make it longer and longer lol and then u might need to wipe one off and redraw it the same angle and shape as the other).

Also while I'm at it. For a non winged eyeliner look, pencil eyeliner is great. You can buy it as a thick pencil (for a more thick smudged eyeliner look) or a thin pencil (for eyeliner to be around your eye edges just outlining mainly). Just like the felt tip pen liquid kind above, you can draw and if they're sharpened you'll likely have an okay time doing wings etc if desired (though the effect will look more smudged/blurred than liquid eyeliners), or thickening the lines as desired. But for just a basic eyelined look you can just take any pencil eyeliner, and Trace the edge of your eyeline. On the top start where you'd like (I like to start in middle cause I don't like my inner corners to have eyeliner) and then trace to the edge of your eye. Draw out a bit further if you want a wing. Then from the outer edge on the bottom, trace the undereye edge to add color there if you want (again I tend to just put eyeliner on the outer lower corner to the middle, but you can do it all the way to the inner corner). And bam you're done. All you have to do is trace the edge of your eyes. Also pencil eyeliners often come in a lot more rainbow colors which is fun

[one-with-the-floor]

“Hold still.”

Aziraphale huffed and shifted on his knees.

“Hold.  Still.”

“Dear, I really don’t see the point—”

“Do you want me to stab you in the eye?”

The angel looked up to stare at him incredulously.  “Do I want you to—”

“No?  Great!  Then stop.  Moving.”

Aziraphale grumbled and rolled his eyes, but he sat back on his heels and let Crowley lean in to continue lining his eyelids.  “You know, angel,” Crowley said carefully, nudging Aziraphale’s face to the side where the light was better.  “You could’ve leaned into this whole immortal look when you got here, if you wanted.  It, ah.  Suits you.”  Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, but Crowley poked him sharply in the shoulder.  “If you start talking now you will end up with kohl in your hair, I swear to Heaven, Aziraphale, this is a very delicate process.”

“I just—”

Crowley waved the brush towards his face in a clear threat.  Aziraphale stopped talking.

He worked in silence for a bit.  This was the tricky bit, the wing, where the liner swung out past the eye in a decorative sweep.  It took concentration even when he did it on himself, and he’d had decades of practice at that.  Aziraphale’s skin was a new challenge, different in its give and smoothness, different in the way the brush pulled or glided or tugged.  It didn’t help that he was so close; how was he supposed to think straight when he could smell Aziraphale’s soap, and feel his breath on his hands?

The brush nearly slipped, and he cursed under his breath.  The kohl was such a sharp contrast to Aziraphale’s pale skin, one little wobbly line would show clear as day.  Refocusing, he drew over it again.  There.  Even, smooth, perfect.  Worthy of the face it adorned, now.

Crowley sat back to see the full effect, and had to stop himself from gasping aloud.  Aziraphale looked breathtaking.  The blue of his skirt brought out the warm pink of his skin, and the gold jewelry Crowley had (gently) bullied him into just drew attention to his wrists, his hips, his beautiful soft collarbones.  He was absolutely stunning, and Crowley let himself stare, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.  He could sit and look at this vision for centuries.

After a moment, Aziraphale’s forehead creased, his mouth drooped into a little pout, and he cracked one eye open.  When he saw Crowley had moved away from his face, he gave up pretending to be still.  “My dear?”

“Ngk!”  Crowley quickly forced his expression to cooperate already and shifted to turn away.  If he looked at Aziraphale much longer he just might start burning.

“Is it done, then?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley glanced over just in time to grab his hand away from his face.

“Hell’s sake, angel, I just finished that, don’t touch it!”

“I just wanted to see—”

“You’re gonna see it by smudging it all over your face?”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, it can’t be that bad.”

“You wanna test that?  ‘Cause really, angel, be my guest, but—erk—”  It was right then that Crowley realized he was still holding Aziraphale’s wrist, and he dropped it like his hand was burning as badly as his face.  “Ah… er, any—anyway.”  He turned away more fully this time, desperate to get the flames in his cheeks to shove off and leave him alone.  “I’ll just, um.  Here, yeah, just hold on a moment, I’ll do mine and then we can… uh, yeah, just a sec, won’t take long I can—”

A soft hand landed on his arm, and he froze in his tracks.  “Let me.”

“...what?”

With gentle fingers, Aziraphale turned him back around.  “Let me do it.”

Heaven, his eyes were lovely, he couldn’t so much as breathe in the glow of those eyes, how the hell was he supposed to string words together?  “Ngk, that’s—er, I mean—I don’t—”

Suddenly there was a kohl brush very close to his face.  “Hold still.”

“What—ANGEL!”  He smacked the brush away.  “Do you even know how to do it?”

Aziraphale shrugged, being frighteningly careless about where the brush was and coming very close to spilling the pot in his other hand.  “I’ve seen you do Moses’s how many times now?  It’ll be fine, my de—”

“You’re gonna get kohl all over me!  This is a new skirt, and I just washed my hair, I’m not having you—”

“Dearest.”  Aziraphale had no right sounding as amused as he did.  “I promise I will not get kohl on your skirt.  Or in your hair.”

“You… but you don’t…”

“I let you do mine.  Let me do yours.”

Crowley protested, and then grumbled, and may have whined a little in between, but after enough eye rolling and scoffing to last most humans a decade, he settled down and let Aziraphale start to paint his eyelids.

The kohl was cool against his skin, but Aziraphale’s hand cupping his jaw was warm even through the heat of his blush.  He was so gentle, smoothing the creases beside his eye with his thumb and tucking his fingertips just behind Crowley’s ear.  If Crowley hadn’t been so tense, he might have melted right where he sat.

And then he couldn’t stop himself from melting, because Aziraphale lifted his face to the sun and brushed his hair out of the way, and then he didn’t stop, just kept carding fingers through his hair with one hand while the other dragged kohl along his lashline.  It was still so new, the touching each other thing, and it nearly stopped Crowley’s heart every time.

Aziraphale’s thumb skated over his cheekbone, and Crowley revelled in the fact that he could feel the softness of his hand against the edge of his smile.  He did it again, and then he whispered.

“Oh, you beautiful thing.”

Crowley’s eyes fluttered open before he could remember they were supposed to stay closed.  Aziraphale was sitting back a little, the brush still in his hand as he gazed at Crowley with such solid intensity the demon really and truly thought this might be what the humans who went to heaven felt when they got there.

But then Aziraphale shook himself, and took a breath, and the intensity was gone.  “Sorry, darling,” he said, leaning back in.  “Nearly done, just close your eyes for me again.”  And Crowley was left to desperately hope he wasn’t close enough to hear his heart trying to hammer all the way through his chest to reach him.

“...angel?” Crowley eventually said, when he thought he’d be able to speak without his voice cracking.  He still couldn’t, as it turned out.

“Hmm?” Aziraphale responded, paying special attention to the corner of his left eye.

“I, um.  I meant it.  Earlier, when I said… when I said the, ah, that the immortal look suits you.  It does, it, um, ngk.  You—angel, you look really really good.”

Aziraphale hummed in response, and Crowley was so relieved he hadn’t burst into flame saying those words that it took him a moment to realize the angel sounded… unconvinced.  Aziraphale’s hand ran over his hair again.  “You’re too sweet, dear.”  He tilted his chin again, angling his face to the side, and Crowley went willingly even as he raced to catch up with what Aziraphale meant.  “But you’re the one who was meant for this, with your hair and your beautiful long legs and your cheekbones…  You’re perfect as a deity, Crowley, much more so than I could ever be.”

Crowley’s eyes flew open.  “Wait, angel—”

“There we are, all done.”  And Aziraphale was pulling away, scrambling back and leaving Crowley behind.  “I hope I didn’t… mess it up too badly.”

“Aziraphale—”

“Here, you should check it.”  Aziraphale thrust a copper mirror into his hands.  “Don’t worry if you want to fix it, I know I don’t really know what I’m doing, I won’t be offended.”  Crowley wanted to throw the mirror back into the void and take Aziraphale’s hands instead, get them to stop twitching and yanking at his skirt and make him look up from the ground and understand how absolutely serious Crowley was.  He almost did it, too, had the mirror in one hand ready to fling away, but then the sunlight caught and flashed on the metal and he glanced down, instinctively, and saw—

Oh.  Oh, wow.

What the fuck made Aziraphale think he wasn’t good at this?

The kohl around Crowley’s eyes was flawless, all smooth lines and a perfect, slim wing at the corner.  But that wasn’t even the half of it, Aziraphale had—heaven, Crowley never even did eyeshadow for himself, but Aziraphale had painted his eyelids a warm, pale green, fading lighter as it got closer to his nose.  Green was never a color Crowley would have picked, for anything, but it—he liked it.  Without even thinking, he knew he liked it.  The shade made his eyes look warmer.  Despite himself, despite everything, Crowley almost thought his eyes looked pretty like this.

“Aziraphale…” he said, not even trying to keep the awe out of his voice.  “The, it’s, ngk.  You—you gave me eyeshadow.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry, I got—a bit carried away, you can take it off, I just thought, with your hair—it looks so pretty in the sun, darling—”  Aziraphale’s hands were locked on the fabric of his skirt, and he was looking anywhere but at Crowley.  ”—and you, well, you picked a skirt that’s, that’s not black, for once, and I love the color, dear, that dark red looks absolutely lovely on you, so I just thought a little more color to tie it in with your eyes, because I really adore your eyes, so—”

“Aziraphale.”  Crowley jumped forward, putting himself at Aziraphale’s side so he could reach out and turn his face to look at him.  “Aziraphale, no, angel, that’s not what I meant.  I love it.”

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide, the kohl outlines making them even bigger.  “I… really?”

“Yes.  Yes, angel.  Thank you.”  He let his hand slide down Aziraphale’s cheek, careful not to smudge the eyeliner.  “And I meant what I said earlier.  You look…”  His voice caught on the word as his hand caught on Aziraphale’s jaw.  “Angel, you’re bloody gorgeous.”

Aziraphale blushed, and heaven above, that just made his curls glow brighter.  “Oh, my dear, I don’t know—”

“Oi!  Let me finish.”  That made him smile, at least, even if it was directed at the ground.  “Aziraphale, you were made for this.  Are—I mean you gotta be kidding me, angel, with your hair?  Your hair looks like a halo most days, if that’s not ethereal I dunno what is.  And fuck, you think my legs are good?  Fucksake, angel, my legs are sticks.  Your legs—heaven, Aziraphale, first time I saw your thighs I genuinely thought I was gonna discorporate.  You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Aziraphale looked up, finally, and his smile, even if it was small, was enough to light up the whole of the earth.  “...thank you,” he whispered, his hands no longer clutching his skirt but resting gently between his legs.  “My dear, thank you.  You’re so very lovely to me.”

Crowley leaned across the short distance to press a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek.  The angel turned away, but he was really smiling now, a little secret smirk meant just for them.  Crowley let his arm drop down to wrap around his shoulder.  “I mean it, angel.”

He saw Aziraphale peer back at him over his other shoulder and felt a soft grin on his own face.  “I mean it too, dear.  I really do.”

This is my submission for @whiteleyfoster‘s dtiys, which I did as a fic!  I adore Prince of Omens, so it was really fun to do something in that world!  [AO3 link]

[mirrerover]

Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.” 

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

 Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks. 

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could. 

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all. 

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre. 

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare. 

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now. 

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

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

@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Star is getting better, Sam is getting a friend, Stephen is a Sad White Boy™. A layover chapter. I'm not very happy with how this turned out but hey, it's an update and its still pandemi-lovato outside, we gotta be gentle on ourselves. PA turned out to be way more serious than I planned it to be anyways and I think that's very yeehaw of me to expand my writing from the usual almost-crackfics that I write. Love you all 3000.

Days stretched like a piece of chewed up gum, bleeding into one another at a snail's pace, one dull grey NYC afternoon after the other. The hospital wing I was forced to camp out in Tony's tower was top notch but everything, starting from the constant beeping to the sharp, chemical smells, irritated me, and what little strength I had to communicate was mostly spent on listening to Sam's tall tales.

Odette had stopped by shortly after the first wave of weakness had set in; no, I didn't dramatically faint or suddenly develop third stage cancer, I simply turned into a near-catatonic vegetable, devoid of any emotion or will to exist. My bones were like Jell-o, my thoughts - sluggish, sparse clouds that rarely swam in the grey plains of my overtired mind.

My boss was fussing over me for hours, I heard faint echoes of her and Stephen's argumentative conversations before she flipped out and shut the door to my hospital room, strong aromas of incense and smoke briefly overshadowing the bleach and plastic stench every hospital seemed to have. I

I became mostly coherent after her ministrations; enough to see the dark circles under her eyes and the ghastly tone of her skin. More often than not, I couldn't even properly focus my vision, things like using the bathroom and eating three times a day were the worst chores I'd ever had to do.

My body was trying to convince me to wither away, to simply allow the vessel for my spirit to become one with the Earth once more. I had no energy to process what had happened on the foreign planet; when I slept, I didn't dream, I didn't have nightmares, time just flowed like a fast, untamed river, my weary body drifting along the calmer streams of the shoreline and occasionally bumping into a stone of daily routine.

My stubbornness, however, was an inherent part of me. I had considered, many times, simply giving up; the voices in my head whispered at me their poisonous ideas. It would be so easy, to fall asleep and never wake up. They baited me with the promises of afterlife, of golden halls and spaces full of light and warmth.

Sam had started spending a lot of time at my bedside absolutely unprompted; sometimes, he'd hold my hand, gentle, tender fingers drawing senseless squiggles on the inside of my palm. Faint echoes of his aura told me he was worried for me, but also grateful for what I did for Stephen and angry at someone. I tried not to think about the last part: I could sense their pity and their unease every time one of his teammates stopped by my hospital room.

A healthy-looking young woman spending most of her days blankly staring at the wall wasn't a picture-postcard view. Sam wasn't bothered by it in the slightest, and when I finally clawed my way out of the dredges to be able to answer questions with a simple 'yes' or 'no', he promptly lit up, speaking to me in a happy tone that almost wasn't forced.

Tony stopped by, too, usually late in the evening, when he thought I and everyone else was asleep. He sat next to me, his intelligent brown eyes fixed on my face for twenty, thirty minutes at a time before he'd stroke my hair or run a hot, calloused palm over my arm, and then took his leave, slow, shuffling footsteps quietly receding into the hallways. I really didn't know what to think about Tony, he had always been quite quirky, but his gestures were... Nice.

Stephen... Him, his actions, I understood the least. He had argued with Tony, argued with Odette and I was sure I heard him and the Black Widow scream at each other during lunch time. Sometimes I thought I heard his voice, at night, the darkness behind my eyelids suddenly bursting with golden sparks and green bokeh but when I finally mustered up the strength to open my eyes, the empty, white walls were all that greeted me.

Stephen never stopped by, I rarely heard his voice outside of my room and almost always it was one bickering or another, mostly with Sam muttering a few choice words as he noisily sat down on the chair next to me. As much as I hated to admit it, it bothered me. Near-death experiences tended to leave a strong imprint on the human mind and whether Stephen liked it or not, we were connected for life.

"Then Steve, the dumbass, just jumps out of the plane. No chute, no warning," Sam's voice, drifting between fond and annoyed, snapped me out of my stupor. "Robot-brain curses, yells at his boyfriend like he can hear him and just... Does the same fucking thing," the exasperation made a tiny spark of mirth settle in me. I flexed my fingers despite the dull ache, gripping Sam's fingers in my palm. I didn't need to see him to know he immediately perked up. "Meanwhile I'm standing there with my wings, trying to figure out where in life did I take the wrong turn to end up with these two idiots."

"You should get them," I swallowed, my throat dry, my vocal cords tense from the lack of use. "One of those... Backpack leashes," the words were a battle to get out, it was a fight with a brick wall to force my brain to string sounds into a sentence, but I persisted.

"Should I say 'welcome back'?" Sam's optimism is cautious.

"Gettin' there," I forced my eyes to meet his, to see the life bustling in him. To feel alive, even by proxy.

"I should get Strange here, he's been running himself ragged these days, tryin' to figure out how to bring you back," Sam's free hand scrambled for his cell as I struggled to raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I was as surprised as you were, Tony barely gets the wizard to sleep and eat."

Faint pangs of shame wormed into my headspace, for assuming the worst when I knew that his façade of vitriol and sarcasm was just that - a wall to protect himself. My rediscovery of the ability to feel, even if it was gooey shame, grounded me in this plane of existence, forcing me to face reality and return to it.

"I feel like shit," for once in my life, I allowed myself to openly, publicly complain about my state of being.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," Sam's tone was refreshingly teasing. "Odette and Strange explained what you did. Well, sort of," the man scratched his chin. "I understood about half of it, really, but what matters is that you were badass as fuck!"

I struggled to hold onto that sense of being present. "Well, it wasn't my choice," I felt the need to state the fact. "I'm a conductor, of sorts."

Sam's eyebrows rose, both of his hands encompassing my lax palm. "Wizard-man said you consciously directed the energies, or whatever."

I felt the tiniest laugh bubble up from the bottom of my throat, my dry, chapped lips stretched on their own accord. "Because it tickled and itched. It was annoying," I belatedly suspected that there was something... Off, about my explanation.

Sam's gaping expression, exasperated disbelief, put me on edge. "You thought that radioactive ash tickles and severe nerve damage itches?" His head shook from side to side, as if he was trying to get rid of a persistent mosquito.

"Um," I had the decency to look away. "I didn't know it was radioactive," I meekly supplied as the door to my hospital room all but flew open.

Stephen looked - not much better than me, if I had to guess, with the exception of a highly anxious face instead of the (probably) dead inside high school drama club goth that I looked like. The Cape billowed behind him despite a lack of any wind, wiggling as my eyes widened in response to the fabric moving on its own.

"You're okay," Stephen's baritone had me snapping up to meet his stormy eyes with a speed I wasn't aware I possessed at this stage of my recovery. The sorcerer stood silently, eyeing me in turn.

"I'll go get some coffee," Sam delicately interjected, giving my hand a brief squeeze and all but running out the door.

"Radioactive?" I repeated the question that bothered me the most. Shock seized my chest as I fully faced the implications of our impromptu adventure, but I welcomed the acrid sensations, desperate to feel anything at all.

"Yes," the sorcerer took a few long, hurried strides before crashing into the chair. "I didn't notice at first, but then you grabbed my hand and," a jerky inhale followed the confession. "I felt the healing burn, I felt how your body rejected the particles," his speech stuttered. Slender, gloved fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'd be dead in an hour, maybe, if not for..."

I was equally at a loss for words, it seemed. "Weren't we... Harmful to others when we..?" I struggled to form my thoughts.

"You burnt it all off," Stephen replied curtly, puzzled. "Your whole being rejected everything that came from that wretched place. Tony insisted we run tests, do scans. Neither of us have even residual radiation from past x-rays," Stephen's fingers twitched. "But that's not all."

"Your hands?" I offered, remembering some of Sam's words.

A sharp inhale coming from the sorcerer answered my question, if not in detail, and the man himself hesitated to reply for a reason I did not know. I didn't undo the damage, this much I knew was true. He swallowed loudly, eyes firmly planted on the wall opposite me. "They do not hurt anymore," the words were barely louder than a whisper.

I chewed on my lip, slowly, idly, letting Stephen process whatever bothered him that much. He should have been happy, or so I thought, that there was one less thing in this world that had the potential of giving him a headache. "Good," I simply replied, attempting to shrug.

"No, you don't understand," he suddenly lifted his eyes, staring at me hotly. "You did so at the expense of your own life, your lifespan, you energy, your ability to have child-"

I stopped his rant, lifting up one shaky, and my feeble gesture instantly made the tired, broken man deflate into someone that reeked of shame and regret. His shoulders dropped, head briefly touching the side of my bed. For all purposes, I nearly acquired a lapful of kicked puppy Stephen.

Mustering up my very last dregs of energy, I scoffed in his direction: "Don't fucking tell me what to do, wizard," before the familiar weight of apathy began taking over me again. One sluggish thought after the other, I came to a conclusion that he was experiencing a sort of survivor's guilt, except I didn't die.

Or maybe I did? Maybe I'd left some unknown, invisible part of me on the irradiated plains of a foreign world, coming home as a shell of my former self. To their eyes, at least, it could have looked the part; not too long after Stephen's departure, I mustered up the strength and the courage to look into a mirror, to properly see the damage I'd done to myself.

An ashen undertone to my skin, my eyes had sunken deeply into my surprisingly angular face. I had the look of a person who'd survived famine and torture, at least. I appeared to be as dull and disgusting as I felt. For what felt the first time in ages, I carefully, slowly ran myself a hot bath with some of the fancy toiletries placed in the bathroom, because of course Tony would have a full size bath in a hospital room, the steaming, herbal-smelling liquid almost instantaneously giving a boost to my blood flow and speeding up the living energies within my exhausted form.

Sam was waiting for me when I stepped out heated and pruney, a lopsided tilt to his lips and the mouthwatering smell of coffee gathering saliva in my mouth for the first time in days.

"Stephen needs to see a fucking therapist," I grouched, sitting down on the bed, bundled up in a fluffy bathrobe.

Wilson's responding eyeroll was pure reflex. "They all do," he reached out for his thermos, having noticed me eyeing it. A paper cup was promptly filled and given to me. "I can recommend a few, by the way. That specialise in unusual circumstances," he eyed me with kindness, gesturing towards the hospital room with a wide wave of his hand.

I chewed on my lip. "I don't think it will help much, at least right now, since all my hurts are- eh, magical," I shrugged. "I gotta figure out how to stop my limbs from feeling like cooked spaghetti noodles first." The coffee tasted like the usual hospital sludge but somehow, after being devoid of all feeling, it was the single best thing I've had in the past week.

"Seems like a solid plan," Sam agreed. "Your boss is a scary lady, by the way. And I mean it respectfully."

The corners of my mouth tilted up. "Yeah, but she's also very experienced and very kind. She knows her stuff."

Sam quickly looked to the side and as I followed the direction of his stare, i spied a pile of empty Tupperware boxes, causing me to lift an eyebrow at the suddenly bashful man.

"What?" He tried for indignant but it came out as a squeak. "I'm a man, god dammit! I am given free food, I take the free food!"

The realization set in. "She's feeding you now? Did you hit on my boss to get food, Sam?" I wagged my fingers, enjoying the face expressions the man was making, probably, a little more than I should. He looked like a right bird when disgruntled, all puffed up and glaring.

"No!" He almost shrieked. "She cornered me, said I was doing God's work by sitting and talking to you! She just started bringing those... Casseroles, every time she stopped by," the agitation in his voice was quite funny to me. "Not like it's a chore, I actually like the peace and quiet. You've been the best listener I've had in the past year," Sam's grin grew more genuine. "And I don't have to see RoboCop's mug all day or listen to someone argue over the best pasta shape."

"Your house sounds like a nightmare," I supplied conversationally, remembering my own peculiar place and the set of rules and- SHIT, I belatedly realized, someone might went to my apartment to get my stuff and gotten in trouble. "Sam, who went to my place to get my stuff?" I asked, trying to force down the bubbling unease.

"Some lady stopped by, I think her name was also Sam?" He quietly questioned. "Had two kids with her, the boy kept staring at me like I'd stolen his lunch money," the man finished off his coffee, gathering the trash and noisily throwing it in the bin.

"Yeah, that's my neighbor. And Armin is a cool little dude, he's just very shy," I offered absent-mindedly, inwardly breathing a massive sigh of relief.

"He looks like the boy from 'I see dead people' movie," Sam deadpanned, opening a large drawer and extracting my gym bag from it. "I'll leave you to get dressed," we nodded to each other before Sam left the room, phone to his ear and a relaxed atmosphere around his whole being radiating warmth and contentment. That was a nice change from the tense, grim atmosphere of the days past. I could get used to it, could re-learn how to let myself feel like a living being again.

I was eager to return home; stepping in through the portal, my living room greeted me exactly the way I left it the day I went to work, a few books scattered on the couch, my fleece blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Stephen hovered behind me as I set my bag down on the table, immediately surveying the state of my plants and my altar.

"Do you need, um, help with anything?" He was fidgeting, all but vibrating behind me.

Apparently, Sam had talked some sense into the wizard because he stopped by a few times since that day, for a short small-talk or a cup of coffee, the kicked puppy look back on full display.

I told Sam off, of course, saying that I was an adult and so was Strange, but something in his knee-jerk reaction told me that he was so used to playing referee, it didn't even register with him that I might be able to handle my own business. I told Sam that much, taking his hand in me: I wanted a friend, not a parent, not a therapist. It went pretty smoothly.

"No, not really," I figured I could water my own plants and vacuum my own floors. My phone buzzed at that moment, a number saved in my phone as "Tony 😎" coming through with an absolutely outrageous message.

"I'm bringing pizza in 20. You better have Netflix. Tell Dumbledore to pick up his phone."

I promptly thrust the phone in Stephen's face, who instantly developed an equally annoyed and fond expression, as he searched the numerous pockets of his robe for the sleek, light StarkPhone. "Resistance is futile," he sighed, sitting down on the couch as I went to change into something fresh and water my plants while Stephen flicked through my Netflix. I heard him mutter to himself: "Grey's anatomy? Sixth season? Oh my God," with the tone of a man tortured.

"I had a roomie in college who majored in Medical History," I snorted. "When she had a bad day, she'd absolutely pick apart every single thing in the show. From the doctor's misconduct to the way a surgeon was holding the scalpel," I explained, seeing Stephen's eyes sparkle with amusement. "She was absolutely vicious and it was the most hilarious thing."

The sorcerer stroked his chin, leaning back into the couch. "That's acceptable. All medical shows are rubbish," he stated firmly. His phone beeped, causing him to sigh and conjure up a portal within seconds, in the corner of my apartment I had aptly designated to be the landing pad to myself. Tony stepped in, a bottle of wine and three steaming pizza boxes in hand. Smiling at his boyfriend, Stephen turned to me with a curious look: "What did you major in?"

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @secretly-a-weeb @stuckybarton

[salemsbones]

Lonely Stars Chapter Six

Trigger Warnings: self hatred, silbing arguing, heavy mentions of blood, violence, spell use of "Sectumsempra", mentions of scars

Age 16      Regulus had barely left my side after he discovered what I had done to my arm, he saw straight through the fake smiles I gave other people and saw the true me that was numb and feeling terrible about what Sirius had said. He made sure I was eating enough food, attending all my classes and actually sleeping at night, every morning he would be waiting outside of the Ravenclaw common room for me, and he would walk me to breakfast where he made sure I ate at least a piece of toast, and then he would walk me to my classes, and when those classes were finished, he would be waiting outside to walk me to the next one. I think he's nervous that I'm either going to disappear into the Forbidden Forest or try to kill myself, neither of which I would do.      Regulus and I were waiting in the prefect bathroom, Regulus had convinced Sirius to talk with us after he finally admitted what I had done to myself and my arm less than a week ago. The prefect bathroom was spotless, each of the white marble counters gleamed and the large golden bathtub that was the size of a swimming pool looked eager to be filled with fancy soaps and bubbles. Regulus leaned against a wall, examining his pristine fingernails, while I sat on the sink counter, impatiently clicking my own fingernails against the counter.      I jump off the counter, my boots thudding against the floor, "He's not coming." I say with annoyance.      "He's coming Aurelia, he said he would." Regulus said, trying to calm me.      "He said we were dead to him Reg, he's not coming." I say, disappointment dripping from my words. I let out a small sigh and go to leave the bathroom when the door swings open revealing Sirius. He looked the same as always, leather boots with mud stains, dark pants, untucked shirt and sweater vest with his tie untied.      "Sorry I'm late," He said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking guilty.      "We didn't think you were coming," Regulus admitted, pushing himself off the bathroom wall and coming closer to us.      "You're still my siblings, I still care about you." Sirius says, looking between Regulus and I.      "But not if we have the Dark Mark right?" I say with disgust, crossing my arms over my chest, staring daggers at Sirius.      "Aurelia I-" Sirius began but was cut off by the sound of footsteps coming from the far entrance of the prefect bathroom. We all turn towards the approaching footsteps to see Severus Snape, a older Slytherin in Sirius' year. He had a big smirk on his face and was twiddling his wand between his fingers.      "Awe," He mocked. "What a nice family reunion."      "Piss off Snivellus." Sirius growled, clearly not wanting to deal with the Slytherin boy at the moment.      "Oh, I don't think I will," Severus smirked, his eyes flickering from me to Regulus to back to Sirius.      "Severus please, this will only take a few minutes then we can talk." Regulus tries to reason only to be met with a viscous glare from the older boy.      "I don't want to speak to you Regulus, I want to speak to Sirius," He says slyly, his wand passing through his fingers smoothly.      "We're in the middle of something greaseface, leave us alone!" Sirius spat, getting frustrated by Severus. Within a second, Severus' wand had stopped twirling between his fingers and was pointed at Sirius.      "Severus!" Regulus yelled, sounding almost like Father when he is angry. Severus only ignores him and continues to point his wand at my brother.      "You don't get to tell me what to do after you nearly killed me Black." Severus sneered, his lip curling.      "What are you talking about?" I ask, having finally rediscovered my voice.      "Your brother locked me in the Shrieking Shack with that monster he calls his friend!" Snape yelled, glaring at Sirius.      "Don't you dare call Remus a monster!" Sirius yelled back, his hands balling into fists.      "That's what he is! Bloody werewolf should be put down." Severus spoke, causing Sirius to whip out his wand and point it back at him.      "I didn't lock you in there, I simply told you the shortcut we use to get there." Sirius says surprisingly calmly, justifying what he did.      "You could've had me killed! I could be dead and it would be that beasts fault!" Severus bellowed, his voice echoing off the porcelain walls. I can hear the hiss of Sirius' voice as he goes to cast a hex him or one of his friends made up but before he could form the words, Severus yelled his own spell, "Sectumsempra!"      Without even knowing what could possibly be the effects of the spell Severus had just cast, I push my brother out of the way and am hit with a violent jolt that I can only describe felt like a thousand knives piercing my skin. I fall to the ground with a heavy thud, suddenly feeling pain all over my body and as I look down I see the cause; my clothing was torn and I had deep cuts where it looked like invisible knives had slashed their way through my flesh and I was bleeding heavily. My hand hovered over my stomach, where I was bleeding the most as dark crimson blood started to pool around me and within a split second, both Sirius and Regulus were by my side.      "What did you do?" Regulus shrieked, looking at Severus who looked stunned.      "I- I didn't know it would be this bad," He stuttered, clearly also not knowing the effect this spell would have. His face looked shocked, the blood rushing from it, almost making him look as if he would be sick.      "Fix it!" Sirius yelled, looking from me to Severus desperately. "Take it back!"      Severus shakes his head dumbly, looking at me in fear, "I-I don't know it yet."       Before my brothers could say another word, he was running from the bathroom, his feet nearly slipping on my blood that was flowing heavily and staining the once beautiful marble floors.      I could hear moans falling from my mouth, whimpers and tears running down my face, my hands were shaking and the edges of my vision were fuzzy. My ears felt like they were stuffed full of cotton, the voice of Regulus sounding like it was a hundred years away as he tried to reassure me that it was okay, that it wasn't as bad as I thought it was.      "Go the hospital wing, tell Madam Promfrey what happened. I'll be there in a minute." Sirius ordered, looking down at my bloody frame. When Regulus hesitated, trying to absorb the words just spoke, he barked "Go!"      Regulus runs from the bathroom, also almost slipping on a smear of my blood. I felt Sirius' arms snaking around my back and under my knees, cradling my bloody body to his chest as he lifted me from the floor, making me whimper and whine in protest of his movements. "You're okay, it's okay," He breathed, trying to reassure both me and himself.      "I'm sorry," I whisper, my words slurring as vision goes in and out of focus. "I'm sorry, please don't be mad at me."      "I'm not mad Lia, I'm not mad anymore. It's okay, you're okay." He whispers, walking gingerly over my blood, careful not the slip. He tried to walk as smoothly but as fast as possible, trying not to disturb me as I babbled endless slurred apologizes.      My vision tried to focus as Sirius' pace began to slow, we were near the hospital wing. Sirius' untied Gryffindor tie was stained with blood, my blood. He tried as gently as possible to kick open the door that led to the hospital wing, the same mud stained boots he's been wearing for the past two years, the same mud stained boots I gave him for Christmas after he said how much he wanted them from a local Muggle shop. I could barely hear the stern voice of Madam Promfrey, the head nurse, ordering Sirius to lay me on a cot as she filled her arms with even more medical supplies that she was currently holding.      "How are you feeling Miss Black?" She asked as Sirius laid me down, my blood immediately staining the clean white sheets beneath me.      "Sleepy," I whispered, my eyelids threatening to close.      "No sleep!" She said quickly, using scissors to cut through one of Sirius' old shirts he let me borrow months ago in order to get closer to the damage.      "No sleeping Lia," Sirius whispered, kneeling beside me, taking my hand. Regulus kneeled beside Sirius, placing his own hand on top of Sirius' and mine, "Gotta stay awake for a bit okay?"      "Keep talking Lia, stay awake," Sirius pleaded, squeezing my hand tightly. He looks to Regulus quickly, the gears in his brain turning as he thought of an idea. "Promenons- nous dan les bois," He began to sing lightly, a song he used to sing to Regulus and I if we ever had nightmares as children because our parents never would. It was a silly song in French about a wolf loosing his underpants but it always calmed me down.      Regulus joined in on Sirius' song, singing the next line quietly, "Pendant que le loup n'y est pas,"      They wait for me to sing the next line, repeating the previous verse a few more times as my mind cleared, remembering the words say to me countless times, "Si le loup y etaitt il nous mangerait."      The song continues, my eyes threaten to flutter closed every so often until Sirius squeezes my hand, bringing me back to consciousness as Madam Pomfrey tries to clean and stop the bleeding. Madam Promfrey steps back from the bed and whispers gentle words, making me very calm, and my slurred words turned to quiet whispers and then to silence.      Before Sirius or Regulus could protest, Madam Pomfrey raised her hand to silence them, "It's just a healing spell, it will calm her mind and make her drowsy."      "Is she going to be okay?" Sirius asked, hoping to hear positive news but dreading the words Madam Pomfrey may say.      "She will heal." Madam Pomfrey says, nodding her head.      "And the cuts?" Regulus asks, looking back at me with hopeful eyes.      "They will heal, but the scars will be permanent."

[danny-chase]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Titans (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Garth & Dick Grayson, Garth & Donna Troy, Garth & Dick Grayson & Donna Troy Characters: Garth (DCU), Dick Grayson, Donna Troy, Lian Harper Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, snuggling and fluff, self indulgent fic, Cuddling, Hypothermia, Canon Typical Violence, Swearing, POV Garth, Fluffy Ending, no beta we die like Garth, Dick Grayson needs to sleep more, Cold Water, inflatable rafts, Garth has the power to make a mini hot tub, Titans, Titans (1999) feels, Blankets Summary:

The one where Garth has to save his idiot best friend from dying of hypothermia. Incredibly self indulgent with many snuggles.

.

.

.

Garth decided that the next time he had a bad feeling about something, to ignore Dick, and say no. It was for his own good.

 Then.

One of the best parts of living in Titans Tower was that he could set the temperature of the indoor pool.

 It was the middle of February, outside, temperatures had dropped below freezing, but inside the heated water, he was nice and warm. Gliding through, he spun and twirled just for fun. And of course, to show off for his delightful little niece Lian.

“Catch me!” Lian ran off the diving board, a gleeful expression on her face as Garth dove up through the water, snatching her out of midair. He leaned straight back to create a massive splash (not at all enhanced with his powers). All the while keeping Lian completely dry. “Again! Again!” She cried, laughing her head off as he carried her on his shoulders, depositing her on the side.

 “One more, then bedtime. Promise?” Lian was tough to bargain with, a real smooth talker – just like her dad. As it was, the precocious little five-year-old titled her head to the side with a frown.

 “Hmm. I want two more times.” Two? He’d be getting off lucky, he’d been planning on three.

 “Deal.” He immediately replied. Lian padded off towards the board again, carefully walking (they’d told her enough times not to run).

 “Lian, sweetie.” Garth turned to see Dick and Donna walking in, in uniform. He frowned; they didn’t have a mission scheduled for tonight. Lian changed course, veering off at Donna’s call.

 “Hey, sweetheart.” Dick intercepted, swinging Lian up in his arms into a hug. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Lian giggled back. “It’s bedtime for you, little bird.” Her face morphed into a frown.

 “But Uncle Garth said-”

 “Sorry kiddo, I gotta talk to your uncle Garth.” Dick smiled at her lovingly. “Can you go with Auntie Donna? She’s going to put you to bed with Aunt Toni. Okay?” Garth swam to the edge of the pool, Lian’s lower lip was forming into a defiant pout.

 “Sorry, fishsticks, we can do it tomorrow. Three times.” He promised. Somehow, he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of the third round. Fortunately, his luck held, and Lian decided three times tomorrow would be good enough. She nodded, squirming towards Donna.

 “Okay.” She replied. Dick passed her over and stuck a hand over the edge of the pool. Garth took it, and they both pulled; he nearly flew out of the water.

 “Here.” Donna passed him a towel as she left. “See you in a bit.”

 “Bye, fishy.” Lian called as the exited the room, giggling as Donna gave her a little tickle. Lian was such a precious child, Roy was truly blessed to have her.

 He turned his attention to Dick. ‘Have you been sleeping?’ is what he wanted to ask; he was paler than usual, and the bags under his eyes were becoming more pronounced (again). But Dick never took to the question kindly, and at this point, Garth had learned to pick his fights. “What’s up?” He asked instead. Dick gestured towards the locker room.

 “Quick mission, you, me, and Donna. I’ve been hacking the H.I.V.E.’s servers, they’re receiving an arms shipment tonight in about an hour by boat, you game?” Garth nodded hesitantly, the bad feeling from before returning. The others were busy tonight, they likely wouldn’t have any backup.

 “How long did that take you?” He asked nonchalantly. Dick shrugged, but his bloodshot eyes spoke for themselves. Garth repressed a sigh. Fighting Dick Grayson would be counterintuitive, at least if he went, he could keep him out of trouble.

 “Meet in the bay in fifteen.” Dick instructed. “Glad to have you on board.” He grinned, and Garth did his best to ignore how unhinged he looked. This was a bad idea.

 Now.

“I knew this was a bad idea.” Garth grumbled. Cold wind stung his face, as he ducked another punch from the enhanced guard. Dick finished off the normal guards on the left, and Donna was locked in battle with another meta to his right. Fighting in cramped spaces was never fun.

 “Quit whining Gill-for-brains.” Dick teased he’d just finished off the last goon. He turned, chucking a wing-ding into the meta’s palm. The man roared with fury and charged.

 It seemed to happen in slow motion, the wind picked up on the rickety little speedboat, Dick stumbled as he dodged, the minute mistake was all the meta needed. Garth ran, but the meta was closer – he didn’t have a chance.

 “Shit.” He cursed as he watched Dick tumble off the side of the boat, into frigid waters.

 *SPLOOSH*

 “Fuck.” Donna muttered next to him. The meta turned back towards him, invigorated by his victory. Garth cursed, he couldn’t leave Donna alone with two of them, Dick would have to wait, but he needed to hurry.

 “Fucking asshole!” Garth yelled, anger burning in his chest. He let out a violet blast and kicked the man in the knee. “That was my friend!” The meta swiped at him, but adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Ducking, twisting, turning, blasting, he unleashed a barrage of fury on his opponent. All the while, they sped further and farther away from where Dick went under.

 Garth screamed in fury, unleashing a final blast at the man’s head, and finally the man stayed down.

 “Go, I’ve got this one.” He was way ahead of her, running to the side of the speeding boat. His muscles burned from exertion, but he pushed through. “I’ll meet you with the copter!”

 “Nightwing!” He called, diving off the side. Swimmingly in the opposite direction, he scanned the horizon for motion – damn Dick for making his costume so hard to freaking see against the night. “NIGHTWING!” He repeated, frantically picking up speed.  

 His pulse pounded in his head, it was cold out, and while he was resilient to the sub-freezing waters, Dick was human. It didn’t matter how well-crafted his suit was, it wasn’t watertight, and in this weather, it wouldn’t take long for hypothermia to set in. The currents were strong, and the boat had been moving fast, it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since Dick fell in but, he was no where to be seen. Garth tore on, cutting through the choppy waves.

 Finally, he caught a spattering of bright yellow on the horizon – a small inflatable raft was tossed about on the rough sea. There was only one hero (okay probably Batman too) that kept a life raft on him. Fear seemed to pierce through his chest as he willed the water to push him forward. “Nightwing!” He called again, surfacing just next to the little vessel.

 No response. His chest clenched with anticipation and worry as he carefully placed a hand on the lip of the float. Gingerly, he pulled himself up, careful not to overturn it.

 Dick was sprawled on the other side, violently trembling, as one of his arms dangled over the side. His skin had a grayish tone, ice had frozen chunks of his hair. Panic clawed at Garth’s sides. “Dick?” No response.  He scrambled across the raft and pulled the shaking figure into his arms. Dick’s eyelids fluttered behind the lenses on his mask.

 “-ayy?” He mumbled a string garbled words, weakly squirming as Garth pulled him close to his chest. “-oo ‘ot” He protested, Garth kept his grip firm, and stood, hoisting Dick in his arms and willing water to flood the little raft.

 “I got you, Rob. You’re okay.” He murmured into Dick’s hair, the old nickname slipping out, despite the new costume. Shifting Dick over his shoulders, he plunged his left hand into the raft’s water are brought it up to a warm temperature, careful not to make it hot. “You’re going to be okay, just hang on a moment.” He kept his voice steady and soothing, ignoring the anxiety clawing its way up his throat. He had to stay levelheaded, focus on maintaining the water temperature.

 He gently lowered Dick into the make-shift bath, keeping an arm wrapped around his torso, securely locking him in place against his chest. He twisted his legs around Dick’s preventing him from kicking around. Using his left hand, he held Dick’s head above water, and carefully melted the ice in his hair. He hummed platitudes in Dick’s ear, and after a few moments, he settled down.

 “-arf?” He let out a breath of relief at the acknowledgment.

 “You with me?” He gave Dick a gentle squeeze.

 “-ere’s ‘ay-on?” He gulped in surprise, he wasn’t sure, but that sounded like Jason. Dick never talked about Jason. “-e ‘kaay? -iing.” Garth ran his hand through Dick’s hair and thanked the gods for the faint sound of a helicopter approaching in the distance.

 “You’re all right, love, everything’s fine.” He assured, willing Donna to speed up. “Keep still.” Dick was squirming again, but in his current condition it was a fruitless endeavor. He warmed the water slightly, bringing it back up to temperature. Dick’s head lolled against his chest. “Stay awake.”

 “’ired.” Dick complained. Concern tugged at his insides.

 “I know, buddy, it’s okay, you gotta keep your eyes open for me, alright?” Dick mumbled in acknowledgement. They sat in silence for a moment, tremors wracking Dick’s small frame. Humans were so tiny. “How are you feeling?”  

 “’s hot.” Dick wriggled, trying to pull out of the warm water, again Garth just gently restrained him.

 “Sorry, big brain, you gotta stay put.”

 Dick began mumbling again, Garth only caught the word “skiing” from the gibberish. The wings of the Titan’s helicopter drowned out whatever it was Dick was trying to say. Donna swooped down moments later, scooping them both up, and carrying them up to the small cabin.

 “Great Hera.” She shook her head, fretting as she unzipped Dick’s suit. Garth quickly discarded his wet clothes, vigorously toweling off before hopping in a spare set of pants from a bin they kept in the back. He yanked out boxers and sweatpants for Dick.

 “He’s not making sense.” Garth advised, tossing the clothes onto a nearby seat. Dick swayed on the spot as Donna removed the top half of his drenched suit, and Garth quickly made his way over, placing an arm on his side to keep him upright.

 “Well, that’s what happens when you decide to go swimming in Febuary.” Donna rolled her eyes, but her tone was worried. “You won’t do that again, will you?” Dick’s teeth chattered as he stared past her in response. Garth grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his torso, swapping places with Donna to take off the bottom.

 “The things we do for love.” Donna said wryly, passing him dry clothes. She started toweling off Dick’s hair, as Garth gently patted down his legs with another towel.

 “-ing on?” Dick muttered. “onna?” Garth guided his feet into the pants and pulled them up.

 “I’m right here, sweetheart.” Donna pressed a kiss to his temple.

 “Alright, almost good as new.” He grabbed a blanket off the dash. “Donna, care to join?” She grabbed a second blanket, and the two of them half carried a stumbling Dick Grayson to the cot in the back.

 “I’ll have to take over when we land, but we should be good on autopilot for now.” They threw the blankets over the group, sandwiching Dick in the middle. Garth breathed a sigh of relief, slipping his arms around Dick’s torso and pulling their chests together, making skin-to-skin contact. Donna shuffled closer, scooping his legs together and curling around them, leaning her head against Garth’s side. He leaned back against the wall, together they made a little cocoon of warmth, his naturally high body temperature easily heating their little nest under the blankets.

 “Methinks, we should take a vacation. Somewhere warm.” He suggested, contentedly cuddling Dick close to his chest, the anxiety of the last hour dying down at last. Donna snorted next to him.

 “You remember our last ‘vacation’?” She asked sarcastically. Garth nodded. A disastrous trip to a remote island, plagued with storms and infighting, the latter of which was caused by a villain with a grudge. With a specific dislike of their shivering friend.

 “Dick thinks it’s a good idea, don’t you?”

 “Mm?”

 “Close enough, I’m taking it as a yes.” Donna laughed; warm air tickled his arm.

 “Shall we go to the Grand Canyon?” She teased.

 “No.” Dick stated, catching them both off guard. “Garth is a fiiiish.” Even delirious, at least Dick understood Garth plus hot, dry climate equals a bad idea.

 “Well, he’s not wrong. I am a fish.” Garth grinned. “We could go to another island. With more houses.” He suggested.

 “’ruce hass a islaand.” Dick noted. Of course Batman owned an island. Though, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go to an island Bruce had bought.

 “Okay, that sounded like an endorsement. Boy blunder, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Donna put a hand on his forehead, brushing his bangs to the side.

 “’m fineee.” Ah, yes. Dick Grayson; the pinnacle of good health.

 “See, he’s fine Donna, sheesh, what are you getting so worked up for? The man wants his vacation.” Donna rolled her eyes.

 “He’ll kill us if we drag him on vacation.” She muttered. Though, in his current state, that was highly unlikely.

 “Donna, I’ll kill him if he tries to get out of bed for the next two days.” He assured. Dick would be a nightmare to deal with, but on the bright side, he’d been scheduled to babysit the next few days, and Lian would love another friend to join in watching My Little Pony and Barbie movies.

 “Agreed.” Donna noted.

 “Dooon’t, kill meee.” Dick squirmed again.

 “Dick, Garth won’t hurt him, he doesn’t have it in him.” She knocked her head against his shoulder. “He’s a big old softie.”

 “Heee’s fiiishy.” Dick agreed, relaxing back into his arms.

 “Okay, no one let him near Lian.” Garth joked, taking Dick’s hands in his. Color seemed to be returning to the surface of his skin. He pressed the side of his face to Dick’s ear, nestling his head back against his chest.

 “Youuur warm.” Dick let out a long yawn, sending shivers down Garth’s spine.

 “A yes, another brilliant deduction from the Boy Wonder, Wondergirl, how does he do it?” Garth teased. He felt almost giddy now that Dick was in better shape than before. They’d still need to be careful, but the stress of the situation was slowly leaving him as they snuggled together.

 “It’s his big head, it makes space for his big brain.” He laughed at Donna’s remark and pressed a kiss to the top of Dick’s head. It was a big brain, but a dumb one sometimes too. The conversation hit a lull, and they sat there, in silent companionship with one another.

 After a while, Donna passed him Dick’s legs. “I’ve gotta to land, take care of bird-brain.”

 “Tweet.” Dick commented as she left. Garth wheezed to stifle laughter.

 “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” Donna called from the front.

 “Am.” Dick muttered.

 “Can’t argue with that.” Garth asserted, tucking his legs up underneath Dick’s. As they neared the landing pad, he breathed yet another sigh of relief. He wasn’t thrilled with the state of events, but they’d been lucky tonight. He wouldn’t be attending another funeral tomorrow. Dick’s heart was steadily beating, his breath seeming to get easier with each passing moment. As they landed in the bay, Garth decided, that for tonight, that would have to be enough.

[untaemedqueen]

Happy Mother’s Day, Kitten

Mafia!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: FLUFF, SUPER FLUFF

WordCount: 1.2k

Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff

A/N: Happy Mother’s Day to all my readers who have children old or young! You know my man Jimin gotta come in and be 100% fucking adorable for Y/N.

Based On Relationship From: The Bird Cage

The screaming is what woke you up. It was sharp giggles and yelping that had you covering your face with the pillow beside you. As exhausted as you were from taking care of two kids, plus the one in your belly and getting the casino ready for summer, you can't help the smile that spreads on your face. There's a small 'shush' that happens just outside the bedroom doors and you giggle to yourself before the pillow is off your face. Eyes opening, you fixate them on the canopy above. Head tilting to the side, your hand finds comfort on your belly; rubbing small circles as your child moves within you.

"Do you have your present for mommy?" His voice is a whisper that creeps through the wooden doors of the master bedroom. You snort, a gentle breathy exhale as you push up for your back to rest against the headboard. You can hear excited stomping of little feet and your heart sings as the door opens. He appears first, your husband of many years that still manages to make you swoon. His black hair is up in a ponytail as he turns his attention from your daughter to yourself. His smile is wide, eyes closing as he gasps gently. 

"Mommy's awake, Hawon! Just in time!" He has on a crisp grey work shirt and striped suit pants that is fastened with his typical black belt, a gold lions head for the buckle. He holds your son on his hip, drool dribbling down his small bottom lip towards his chin and you can't help but smile at the sight. 

"Morning, Kitten. Happy Mother's Day." He makes way for your daughter who squeals at the sight of seeing you awake. Her chubby cheeks bounce up, eyes closing as she smiles. She looks just like Jimin and you could wish for nothing more. She holds a small cardboard box in hand, legs jumping up and down before sprinting towards the large bed you lay upon. 

"Be careful!" Jimin warns sweetly as Hawon places the box on the bed before trying to jump up. The box shifts as if something is inside and you go wide eyed before looking at your husband. He approaches, setting Minseok on the bed before picking up his struggling daughter and setting her down on the mattress. "Give mommy her present." 

He walks back to the door before picking up something covered by a velvet black cloth. His fingers dip through a bronze loop before lifting it with a grunt and shutting the door behind him. You watch, fascinated, trying to decipher what could be under the mysterious material. Minseok crawls to you, your hand stretching out to pick up the bib around his neck before wiping at the drool that attempts to dribble down his chin. "Mommy! Mommy! I have present!" 

Hawon holds up the box before shaking her body in an excited manner that has you laughing at her antics. She hands you the box before jumping onto your legs and crawling up your belly. "Watch your little sister, please." Jimin whispers before rubbing circles on Hawon's small back.

"A present?! For me?! Thank you baby!" Your lips meet your daughter's hairline as she lays down on top of your belly. The box rattles again and you raise an eyebrow before looking at your husband. He picks up Minseok, who gets dangerously close to the edge of the bed before winking at you. "Open! Open!" 

The excitement that is laced on your daughter's voice makes you giggle before lifting up the flap on the box. Jimin grabs the mysteriously covered present before putting it on the bed. "Be careful, it might fly out." Your hand stutters before sticking your neck out. "Fly? Out?"

He laughs, head lolling back at your surprise. "You'll like it Kitten. Don't worry. It's cute." 

You hum with uncertainty before your daughter pulls at your nightgown. "Open!"

With a raised eyebrow you open up the flap slightly before closing one eye and peeking into the box. A small sparrow sits in it, head tilted as you look in. The head is a chestnut brown with random streaks of brown that litter the feathers in random places. He chirps once and you begin to smile. Your heart clenches before looking up at your husband. "Beautiful, no? Hawon thought you would like it for Mother's Day." He lifts the velvet cover off of the surprise before smiling. A bird cage is uncovered, an exact replica of what is depicted in your favorite painting. Your gasp doesn't go unnoticed, his hand comes down on your bare calf. Thumb stroking circles into your skin as he gives a chuckle.

"Happy Mother's Day, Kitten." Jimin hands you Minseok before taking the box and opening the door to the bird cage.  You can hear the sparrow's wings flutter inside the box as he puts the box in the beautifully polished copper cage. The bars were designed to look old and worn but they shine brightly in the morning lit room. They twist and curl into swirls at the ends making up an elaborate design that has you feeling giddy inside. Hawon gasps as the bird flies out of the box, he flies in a circle twice before perching on the copper bar that hangs from the cage's ceiling. Jimin hums to himself before pulling the box out and closing the door. 

"What shall we name him?" Jimin asks your children, his thumb wipes at Minseok's dribbling lip before wiping it on his pants as if they didn't cost hundreds of dollars. "Kitty!"

Jimin laughs at Minseok's muffled answer before kissing the top of his head. "Kitty?! But, he's a sparrow, big boy." Minseok giggles before pressing his face into Jimin's neck. It was a sight that makes your heart clench from the sweetness. You rub your belly, eyelids lowering at the sight as his daughter moves inside of you. 

"Kitty! I like it!" Hawon decides before laying her cheek on your stomach. Jimin's eyes find yours, irises shaking with happiness. "Kitty it is, then." 

Through the romantic moment, three knocks come at the door. Jimin tells them to enter, eyes still on you as his hand reaches for your stomach. Mirae appears, perfectly kept as always before smiling at your family. "Breakfast?" 

With all the excitement you hadn't even given a thought to food. Your stomach rumbles at the idea and you nod to her making her laugh. "I want to make mommy breakfast!" Hawon screams sticking her hand up in the air. Jimin wrinkles his nose at the cuteness before pushing some stray hairs off her forehead. 

"Go with Mirae and help make mommy breakfast." Mirae nods, holding out her hand. Jimin stands up before handing her Minseok and helping your daughter off of your raised bed. "Love you, mommy!" Hawon cheers, body swaying sweetly before running out of the bedroom past Mirae.

"Be careful!" Jimin yells out, his body leaning to peak into the hallway as he watches his daughter sprint down the hallway. Mirae shakes her head with a small sigh before following after Hawon. Your husband turns to you, hands rubbing on your belly as he kisses your cheek.

"Did you like your gift?" You watch as the sparrow begins to tweet. A sweet melody that enraptures your ears before looking at your handsome husband. "I love it." 

He kisses you gently, the tip of his tongue raking over the seam of your lips before pulling away. "Happy Mother's Day, Kitten. I love you."

[drawlfoy]

Mirror, Mirror P.5

masterlist (<- to read parts 1-4) request guidelines want to be tagged? 

pairing: draco x ravenclaw!reader

request: nope!

summary: y/n has admired draco from afar for a hot minute. what will happen when they’re finally paired up to do rounds together and run into the mirror of erised?

warnings: language, mentions of being very very ill, my terrible editing skills, way too much dialogue

a/n: here it is :) it’s been a bit. the finale will hopefully be posted this tues! i hope all of you guys have been continuing to social distance and i hope everyone reading this is healthy! also, important update: the first part of just a call away has been postponed until this monday (i originally expected it to be posted tomorrow but i’ve hardly been able to work on it at all). enjoy!

word count: 2.3k ;)

music recs:

permanent tags:  @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn

tags for mirror, mirror:  @theres-a-dog-outside-omg​ @mey-rapp @kaibie @blackpinkdolan @sugarbby99

“Rena, I am going to kill you!” 

Y/N’s roommate looked up, the fear of Merlin struck into her eyes. The Transfiguration study guide in front of her lay entirely forgotten as she watched her friend slam the door and flop on the bed. “Oh?”

Y/N flung off her robe and tossed it on the floor. “When were you gonna tell me that you talked to Malfoy about me?” 

Her roommate narrowed her eyes, leaning forward in her chair and propping her chin up on her hand. “What are you talking about? He approached me and asked if you knew what the mirror was. I said you did. That was it.”

The venom seeped out of Y/N’s expression as the realization crept in.

“Oh. Oh, Rena, I’m sorry. I had no idea. He told me that you told him ‘everything’.”

“And you took a Slytherin’s word? Malfoy’s word? Honestly, Y/N, you give me a headache.” Rena sent a gentle smile her way. “What happened? Did you tell him?”

A sour feeling crept into Y/N’s chest as the memory she had suppressed on the walk to her dorm surfaced like bile in her throat. The rest of their shift was tense at best and downright agonizing at worst. Malfoy was uncharacteristically quiet, wringing his hands over and over again and scratching the back of his neck when he exhausted his wrists. Y/N knew that she was bright red by the time that they said their goodbyes--which really wasn’t much of a goodbye, just an uncomfortable nod before they parted ways to their respective dormitories--and cursed the fact that their ending spot was right under a torch. 

She would much rather prefer him to just straight up tell her he wasn’t into her; however, she supposed he technically did, that week or so ago in the Great Hall when he had told her he wasn’t into Ravenclaws.

Maybe I’m the one that needs to pull back. Maybe I’m actually the git in this situation and I’m making Malfoy feel uncomfortable.

“Yeah. I did.”

“And?”

“That’s it. He doesn’t feel the same way.” The words left her mouth feeling like heavy lead, weighing her breath down.

Rena stood up from her chair, her face softening. “He said that?”

“He didn’t say anything, really.”

“Well that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the same way,” said her roommate. Her voice was painfully cheerful for Y/N. “Maybe he’s just nervous.”

Y/N offered a weak smile as she pulled her hair out of her ponytail and got up to rifle through her drawers to find something to sleep in. “It’s over, Rena. I don’t know why I’ve entertained this for so long. It wasn’t even a thing to begin with. I just want to go to bed.”

“All I’m saying is that he’s Malfoy, Y/N. I’ve literally never seen him flirt before in his life. I don’t think he knows how. Maybe he’s just being mean because he doesn’t know any other way?”

“I think I just want to stop thinking about it.” Y/N began changing into her nightclothes quickly with her back to Rena. “I want to go to bed and forgot about it and get my O on the Transfiguration exam tomorrow and just never think about rich daddy’s boys again. No matter how cute they look!”

Y/N tossed her old robes in her hamper, turning to Rena one more time with a blazing expression on her face that said I dare you to disagree.

“All I’m saying,” Rena said slowly, “Is that Malfoy didn’t seem like a total rat when he came up and asked me about you. It just seems strange that he would do that if he had no interest in you.”

“The only interest he has is in antagonizing me,” Y/N snapped. “He’s a class A git and I hate him.”

Rena raised an eyebrow, her expression slightly amused. “Whatever you say, Y/N. We can talk tomorrow morning. I think you need some sleep.”

oOo

Y/N’s dreams were torturous--just a loop, replaying over and over again, of her interactions with a certain Slytherin. She was dragged through her memories against her will, feeling the initial admiration of seeing him read in the courtyard for the first time, crumbling under the anxiety of their shift assignments, suffocating through the tension of their final meeting, reeling at the way his hair looked under the torch lights…

It was too much. She awoke with a pounding headache and a throat so sore that she may as well have swallowed a healthy spoonful of fire over the night. Her eyes hurt to open, like the edges of her eyelids had been lined with Dittany. 

“Merlin, Y/N, you look like shit.” A voice that sounded suspiciously like her roommate wafted from her right side, but she couldn’t be sure. “I’ve gotta get you to Madame Pomfrey.”

“Rena?” 

“Y/N?” 

If she hadn’t felt like she was toeing the line between the dead and the living she would’ve been sure that the tone in her roommate’s voice was tinged with amusement. She tried to croak something more out.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Rena cut in before she could try any harder. “I’ll be back in just a minute. Don’t try and get up, alright? You need your strength.”

Y/N nodded--or at least, she tried--and turned back into her pillow to sleep. A part of her mind registered that she had a Transfiguration exam today and then rounds that night with Malfoy, but as a cold bead of sweat ran down her spine, the thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind. He could wait. He’d already taken up her entire night by filling her dreams and she was not eager to see him again any time soon.

“Y/N?” The door creaked open and her roommate’s voice dragged her back to lucidity. “Hi girly. Can you walk?”

Y/N forced her eyes open and winced at the light filtering through the curtains. It was hardly light out, but the weak morning light sent pangs through her head. The heavy quilt that she had been burrowed under was lifted up off of her...and the shivers started.

Her entire body began shaking, her teeth clattering together so hard that she was afraid she would break them. She wondered if anyone had ever chipped their teeth from fever chills.

“Just swing your legs around the edge...yes, just like that…”

Rena’s hands held her shoulders with a firm grip as she shakily made her way to her feet, swaying slightly. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re absolutely shaking…”

“Mmmhmmm” was all Y/N had the sense to use as a reply.

“All you need to do is make it down the stairs. I can put you in a wheelchair and push you the rest of the way.”

“Love you,” Y/N mumbled as her friend guided her down the stairs. Even though she’d been walking up the stairs to her dorm for years, everything felt oddly foreign to her through her feverish haze.

“Love you t--whoa! Easy.” Rena caught Y/N from near demise as she almost missed a stair. “You’re almost there, doll. Just hold on a bit more.”

“I need you to....” find someone to cover my rounds tonight she tried to say, but the words caught on what felt like daggers in her throat as she felt the wall. 

“Focus on getting down the stairs,” Rena interrupted. “You can tell me once we’re on the way to Pomfrey’s.”

Finally, she made it down onto the last step and allowed herself to be guided into a seat. Exhausted from her trip, she slumped back in the chair and forgot about her request as she drifted back off into her feverish dreams.

This time, they were different. Instead of interactions that had actually happened, her brain took her through a different whirlwind of events. A flurry of sensations met her--a thumb dragging across her slightly parted lips, a chaste kiss placed on her neck, a hand softly squeezing hers, a warm breath fanning across her cheek, a pair of just barely blue eyes staring down at her with so much affection that her heart skipped, a rough hand shaking her shoulder, the sting of something pressing into her wrist (a wand, she thought absently), voices around her calling her name…

Her eyes shot open as she recoiled from a burst of unbearable cold across her chest. The ceiling of the infirmary wing greeted her. Her torso was wet, and once she cast her eyes down to the end of her bed, she could see why.

Madame Pomfrey stood next to Professor Trelawny and Headmaster Dumbledore, brandishing an empty bucket in her hand. 

“Thank goodness! She’s awake!”

Pomfrey sent Trelawny an irritated look as she rushed forth, muttering incantations and running diagnostic tests on Y/N’s body. 

“What...what happened?” she managed, trying to sit up.

“Stay down,” Pomfry commanded, turning to her nightstand to mix a concoction of various potion ingredients. 

“I just had the flu.”

Trelawny moved to the side of the bed to clasp her hand firmly in hers, a kind look in her loony eyes. “Miss Y/L/N, I’m afraid that wasn’t the case. You had an acute case of Dream Sickness. We’re lucky that you were able to wake up when you did. You’re even luckier that your roommate noticed and brought you down here.”

Y/N knitted her eyebrows together. “I’m sorry. Dream...what?”

“Dream Sickness,” the headmaster finished. “A very rare affliction that primarily affects the overthinkers in the wizarding community. Naturally, you Ravenclaws are at a higher risk than other students.”

“So who gave it to me?”

“No, dear,” said Trelawny. “It’s not contagious. It can happen to anyone, but it’s more common if you spent time around powerful magical artifacts. Have you?”

Y/N cringed at the thought. 

“Er...yes, I guess I have. I ran into the Mirror of Erised on one of my prefect rounds. I never lingered, though.”

“That would do it,” Dumbledore mused. “The mirror has a tendency of...inflaming emotions. I ought to locate it and put it in a safer place.”

“So I’m okay? I can go back to classes? I have a Transfiguration exam today, and I’d really like it if I could make it.”

“McGonagall’s Transfiguration exam, I presume?” he asked. 

“Yes. It’s later in the afternoon. I promise I’ll be careful!”

The adults beside her shared uncomfortable glances.

“Dear,” Trelawny began, “You’ve been here for two days.” 

The air was sucked out of her lungs as the realization kicked in. “But that’s impossible! I was only sleeping for a little bit. And I had rounds! How did I miss my rounds?”

Pomfrey seemed mildly sympathetic as she emptied the mixture she had been stirring into a crystal goblet and offered it to her. “It’s normal to be disoriented after a bout of Dream Sickness. Professor Flitwick is sure to understand the situation, and if he does not, I am willing to vouch for you. Now drink. You have some recovering to do.”

oOo

Rena Severjyn was always the confrontational type. It had been a shock to her as well as her family when she’d been sorted into Ravenclaw (with all the bookworms and the teachers’ pets, as her older brothers said to her) instead of Gryffindor, but she’d grown to love her house. Studying came more naturally than cliff-jumping, or whatever it was that Gryffindors did, but when it came down to it, she had no problem with telling someone off.

So when she ran across a deliciously alone Draco Malfoy reading in the courtyard, she had no trouble walking right up to him.

“Hey, arsehat.” She plopped down next to him as he started, nearly dropping the book on the gravel walkway. “We need to talk.”

“Severjyn,” he greeted, his tone even but his eyes flickering nervously. “Do you know where your roommate is? I had to do my rounds alone last night.”

“She’s in the hospital wing. But no matter. I want to know why you’re being such an intolerable prat to her.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly trying to cope with the fact that he was at a loss for words.

“Spit it out, Malfoy. I don’t have all day.”

“Is she okay? Did something happen to her?”

Rena rolled her eyes. “No, she just decided to spend more of her time around Pomfrey. Yes, something happened to her. She’ll be fine. You’re not answering my question.”

“I don’t understand.” The crease between his brow deepened with worry.

“She said she told you how she felt and you didn’t say anything about it!”

“I’m sorry. I just got nervous.”

“Are you dense?” Rena’s voice became shriller. “You told me yourself you fancied her, and you can’t even manage a measly ‘me too’? Even though you had the whole of fucking two hours to do it?”

A blush spread across his fair cheeks as he slammed his book closed and stood up. “It’s not that easy. You know it isn’t.”

“It’s never that easy. But she was able to do it, and you even told her that you weren’t into her! Honestly, I cannot believe you.”

“Please just…” Draco evaded eye contact, dropping his eyes to the floor and grinding his toes into the gravel. “Just leave me be. I promise I’ll talk to her once she’s better. Just don’t tell her, okay? I want to do this myself.”

Rena rolled her eyes. “You better.”

final a/n: finale is coming out soon! let me know what you thought :)

[takeyourhearthawks]

Blue Hour (Hawks Fic)

Hi pals! This is chapter 1 of my Hawks fic. You can find the prologue to this story here, Chapter 2

Word Count 4.8k

Chapter 1

Four years had passed since Jiko had Youta and those years felt like minutes. Jiko felt like she couldn‘t spend enough time with her son even though she spent every moment she could with him. As far as having a child went, Jiko felt like she was pretty blessed. He was a well-behaved kid, didn’t throw fits, always used his manners and made sure that he did everything he could for Jiko.

Youta looked more and more like Keigo with every passing day. He had dirty blonde hair that Jiko could never seem to tame so she just let it do what it wanted. Small red wings were attached to his back and they looked more and more like Keigo‘s every time she looked at them. His nose was slightly upturned, another feature he inherited from his father. But his eyes were a dark brown that resembled Jikos.  

Currently, the two of them were curled up on the couch together. Youta was curled into Jikos lap, watching news coverage of a villain attack. Another thing that Youta had inherited from Keigo was his overwhelming love for heroes and watching them do their job.

“Mama! Look! He‘s gonna get them!” Youta said, pointing his little finger at the T.V frantically. All Might was on screen, one of Youta‘s ultimate favorites.

“Yeah he is!“ She said happily, glancing down at the little boy who was bouncing with excitement as he watched All Might take down a villain. After the villain was done, All Might threw up a thumbs up and smiled at the camera. Youta mimicked him almost immediately and Jiko laughed as she ruffled his hair. When she glanced back at the T.V., she noticed an extremely familiar face.  

Well, not his face at first. She noticed a large red wing span flying into the frame and she heard Youta audibly gasp. His tiny hand flew back to his own wings before he looked up at his mom.

“Look! Look! We both have wings!” He said happily and Jiko just nodded before she turned the T.V. off. This caused an audible reaction from her son but Jiko just looked down at him.

“It‘s bedtime.“ She said and the boy huffed.  

“Fine.“ He said as he lifted himself from his mothers arms, hoovering above the ground in front of her.

“No flying in the house.” She said and Youta giggled, landing on the ground beside her.

“I know!” He said before they headed to his bedroom. Youta changed himself into his pjs and crawled into bed. Jiko followed soon after him, laying down beside her son. They did this every night, laying in bed together until Youta fell asleep.

“Mama?“ Youta said, and Jiko looked down her son.

“Hm?“  

“Can you tell me about dad again?“ He said sadly and Jiko frowned. She scooted down so that she was at eye level with her son. She had never kept details of Youtas‘ father from him, the only thing she never told him was his name.

“What do you wanna know tonight?”  

“What was he like?“ Youta asked.

“Well, he was a lot like you.“ She said, poking his chest gently. This earned a small giggle from Youta. “He was kind, smart, loving, funny.“

“Do you think he would like me?“ Youta asked, cutting his mom off. This brought small tears to Jiko‘s eyes.

“He would love you, Youta.“ She said softly, kissing her sons forehead. “He did love you. Does love you. From the moment he knew about you, he told you how much he loved you.“

“Why did he have to leave?“

“Sometimes you have to protect other people. You have to put their safety in front of your own feelings, yanno? Like, when you watch pros on T.V., they are constantly putting other people first right?“

Youta nodded.

“Well, think about it like that. Everything that was done was done to protect you.“ She said softly and Youta nodded his head. He was a little too young to understand truly what happened, but he understood that his mom did everything to protect him. It took a little while for Youta to fall asleep but once he did, Jiko kissed his head and left his room.  

Jiko sat down on her couch, pulling out her phone. It had been a little bit since she had looked Keigo up. She did it periodically to see what he was up to. She may have fallen off the face of the earth from him, but that didn't mean that she didn't care about him. She had to constantly remind herself that she did everything she did for Keigo. Because he wouldn't have the success he had now if she had stayed in her life with her son.

Pictures of Keigo popped up as soon as she hit search. Pictures of him at the opening of his agnecy, pictures of him with different pretty girls (which struck a small nerve in the back of Jiko‘s neck). There were a few pictures of him saving the day and a few of him at some clubs. The photos of him at the clubs, she recognized the bracelet on his wrist as one she had made for him when they were younger. It was mostly obscured by the long sleeve black shirt he was wearing but she could see just the edge of it.  

She missed Keigo more than she could fathom. She spent countless hours wondering if he thought about her as much as she thought about him.  

He didn‘t.

Kiego spent most of his time trying not to think about Jiko, so he started his agency so that he would have something to occupy his time. He worked from the moment he woke up til late hours of night, sometimes going for days at time on what felt like no sleep. He couldn't help it. Being busy meant that there was no time for him to think about what he was missing in life.

He filled the hole that Jiko used to fill with random girls. Flings left and right, just so he could pretend he felt something. But the truth was that he didn‘t feel much anymore. Jiko was the only thing in his life that truly made him feel complete and like his life had some kind of purpose. Without her in it, he felt like robot.

He was okay with that though. Same routine. Wake up, fight crime, spend time with a random woman, sleep. Lately the woman hadn’t be as random. He had started causally dating a girl name An. She was okay. She wasn‘t exactly fun but she was there, waiting for Keigo when he got off work every night. She would make him dinner, ask him about his day. It was comfortable for him.

That was the woman that Jiko kept seeing as she looked through photos of him. She was pretty, long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. She didn‘t necessarily look like she fit with Hawks, but Jiko figured he must see something in her.

She continued to scroll for a little while longer until her eyelids got tired. She went to her bedroom, laid her head down and let sleep overtake her.

-        

“Mama!“ A small voice squeaked as Youta dropped all of his weight on his mom to take her up. This caused Jiko to let out a huff of air and a sigh opening her eyes to look at her little boy. He was sitting on top of her, wings flapping slightly. A large smile was spread over his lips.

“Five more minutes.“ She mumbled, pretending to close her eyes and go back to sleep. Youta let out a small giggle before he started shaking.

“No! Up! Wake up!“ He said, and Jiko let out a playful groan. She quickly grabbed her son and rolled over so that she was sitting up and he was on the bed. She then began to tickle him, causing his laughter to errupt through the room.

Jiko slowly stopped tickling him, both of them laughing as she scooped him up in her arms. “Fine! I‘m up. What do you want to do today, dove?“ She asked, kissing his head. She had started calling Youta the nickname that Keigo called her out of habit. It ended up just sticking after a while.

“Park! Park!“ He said happily and Jiko rolled her eyes.

“You always wanna go to the park.“ She laughed and he nodded his head furiously.

“The park is fun! I can fly there.“

“Okay, but you gotta give momma like 10 minutes to get ready. You need to go get dressed to.“ She said and he nodded quickly, pushing away from her so that he was flying in the air at eye level of her. She gave him a playful look before using her hand to flick in the direction of his room. The little boy giggled as he flew to his room.

Jiko went into the bathroom and got ready for the day. She sprayed dry shampoo in her hair, it was significantly shorter than it was when she was with Keigo. Back then, she had hair that landed at her mid back. Now, her hair was kept into a messy pixie cut. Being a full-time single mom, she didn’t have a lot of time to worry about stuff like her hair so she just cut it off. Jiko brushed her teeth quickly and then changed her clothes so that she didn‘t look like she had just woken up.

By the time that she was ready, Youta had been struggling to put his shoes on. Jiko chuckled as she helped him slip his shoes on and tie them. Soon after gathering their belongs, the two of them started to head towards the park. Jiko always felt a little weird about taking Youta to the park because she was afraid that people would stare and talk about how much he resembled Hawks. Luckily though, most people didn’t give him a second look. She assumed that in a world full of people with different quirks, he didn‘t stand out too much.

Once they reached the park, they arrived at a little area that was far enough away from the main section of the park. This is where they normally went because Youta always wants to fly around but Jiko didn‘t like him flying around a bunch of strangers. So here, in their little safe haven they had found, Youta could fly as much as he wanted. And he did.

Jiko took a seat on a tree stump a few feet away from Youta. He looked at his mother as if asking permission to fly, and she just nodded her head. Seconds passed before Youta was in the air, flying around the trees. He never got out of his mothers sight, that being one of her few rules. He could fly when they were here but he had to stay within a specific distance that she could see. He never broke the rules.

They must have spent the next couple of hours here, Youta flying around high and Jiko just watching him. She took photos of him every once in a while so that she could remember all of these moments with him.  

“Okay buddy, lets go.“ She called out, and Youta nodded his head. He turned towards his mom and started flying straight towards her. She laughed as she opened her arms. Youta flew straight into her arms and she carried him out of the little meadow they were in. They walked back home, stopping for some snacks on their way back to the apartment.  

When they arrived back at the apartment, Youta was quick to take his shoes off and jump on the couch. He grabbed the tv remote and turned it, checking the news station to see if there was any coverage of heroes. Jiko rolled her eyes slightly as she started to look through her cabinets to start looking for something to actually make for dinner.

She was distracted as her phone buzzed. She grabbed it and opened the text message she had gotten. It was from her boss. While she may have money coming in from the commission, she still had a job to make sure that they always had enough money and to keep suspicion off them. It was just a little bartending job that she didn‘t mind too much, but it always sucked when she had to leave Youta.

She had grown closer to the old couple across the hall. Youta called them his grandparents and they gladly accepted. They had never been able to have children so they took Jiko and Youta under the wing like they were their child and grandchild.

“Wanna go to Nanas for a little?“ She asked and Youta jumped up.

“YES!“ He screamed. She laughed and rolled her eyes.  

“Okay, go get packed. I don't know exactly what time I‘ll be okay tonight.���

It took the small boy less than a minute to jump from the couch and run to his room. Jiko walked to her room and got dressed in her bartending outfit. It was just a pair of shorts and a black button up top. She gathered all of the things that she would need for work and met her son in the living room.  

“Ready?“ She asked and he nodded his head furiously as he ran towards the door. He swung it open and was across the hall in a matter of second. Jiko laughed quietly as she followed behind him, shutting and locking their apartment. By the time she had done all of that, Mei had already scooped Youta up in her arms and was placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Have to work?“ Mei asked, and Jiko nodded her head.

“I‘m sorry its such short notice.“ She rubbed the back of her neck.

“Nonsense! Any excuse to spend time with my grandson is an excuse well spent.“ She said happily and Jiko nodded.  

“I‘ll see you later, Youta.“ Jiko said, leaning forward and kissing her sons head. He smiled and waved at her.

“Bye momma!“ He said as Mei stepped back into her apartment and shut the door.

--

It took two trains to get to the district that she needed to be in. It wasn‘t exactly a long commute, but she always left early so that she could enjoy her walk to the station and then to work. She had her headphones in as she walked, taking in the scenery of the town she lived in. Having lived here for four years now, she should be tired of seeing it. But she never was. She thought it was the most beautiful place she had ever seen.

She arrived at her job a little before her shift. She was always early. That was something she had picked up from Hawks in their time together. She used to be late to everything, but Keigo's time was always limited so she always got their early to make sure she had enough time to spend with him.  

“Hey, Jiko!“ One of her coworkers called out. His name was Haruto and he was one of Jikos few actual friends.  

“Hey, Haruto.“ She smiled.

“You work tonight?”  

“Obviously.“

Haruto rolled his eyes as he walked over, throwing his arm over her shoulders. He pulled her close into his arms and she gave him a small hug. Jiko had only been one for physical contact when it came to two people and they were her son and Keigo.

“We’ll have fun tonight. There’s some sort of pro hero party here tonight. So get ready for a long one!“ Haruto shouted, fist pumping the air. “Maybe I‘ll meet Edgeshot tonight!”

“I have to get someone's autograph for Youta. If he found out I was in the same building as a pro hero and didn’t at least try to get an autograph, he might just go live with Mei.“ Jiko chuckled.

“I‘ll try to get some for him too!” Haruto said happily before he turned on his heel, “ I have to get some stuff ready for prep. When you clock in, come find me and we will figure out what you need to do to get prepped!“

Jiko nodded her head as she went into the break room in the back, sitting down for a few minutes before clocking in. She scrolled through her phone, scrolling through random socials as she waited. As she scrolled, she came across an article that was written about the party that was happening tonight. Apparently it was exclusive. Agency's had bought the place out for the night and people wouldn‘t be allowed unless they were a hero from an agency or a plus one for the heroes.  

At least that meant that the bouncers aren't going to have pull crazed fans off of the heroes every five minutes. That's happened here before and it wasn‘t a pretty sight. Jiko sighed quietly as she locked her phone and slid it into her short pockets. She clocked in and got to work preparing for the night.  

A couple of hours passed and people started to show up. Jiko recognized a few heroes from watching the news religiously with her son. She had started to get drinks for heroes such as Edgeshot and Best Jeanist, smiling at them and being as friendly as she could. Of course, due to the large hero present inside the club, paparazzi had already started to form outside. Jiko sighed. She hated nights like this. Part of her moving away was keeping a low profile and having photos taken all night meant that she had to avoid them to the best of her ability.

Haruto poked his head around the corner, shouting an order of drink to Jiko. She nodded quickly as she started to pour all of the different shots that had been ordered. She placed them neatly on the tray that Haruto had called out. In exchange for the drink, Haruto slid an autograph from Best Jeanist to her.  

“I don’t know how much Youta likes Best Jeanist, but I managed to grab this!” He said happily, and Jiko beamed at him.

“He loves all heroes.” She shouted over the loud music, ”Any autograph will be enough to make him lose his mind.”

Haruto nodded, turning on his heel to go give out the drinks she had just whipped up. Jiko quickly returned to her place, making drinks and handing them out for the night. It wasn’t until about thirty minutes later that someone squeal and Jiko looked up to see none other than All Might, smiling down at her.

“Holy shit.” Jiko said said, causing a large laugh to escape from his lips.

“It is I! All Might! I assume you’re a fan?” He asked, leaning forward. His elbow hit the bar top and he put his head in his hand.

“No- Well, yes, but I said holy shit because you’re my sons favorite hero and he might die if knew I was this close to you.” She chuckled, and All Might also let a small laugh pass his lips.

“Well! We can’t have that can we?”  

“What do you mean?” She said, tilting her head.

“Let's take a video for your little boy! And I will personally sign something for him!” He said with a large smile and Jiko just stared at him for a second before she whipped her phone out. She turned around and held the phone up.

“What’s his name?”

“Youta.” She said before she hit record.

“Hi Young Youta! Your mom told me that you're a fan! Follow your dreams and don’t give up, Plus Ultra! Oh, and listen to your mother! Eat your vegetables!” All Might said, his smile large and he threw up a thumbs up towards the camera before she stopped record.

Jiko turned back around and watched the video quickly, chuckling to herself. ”He’s going to lose his mind. Thank you.” She said as she glanced up at him. He threw up a thumbs up, still smiling.

“All in a days work! Now, let me get...” He said, ordering a drink. Jiko nodded, quickly making the drink for him and handing it off. A few minutes after that drink was handed off, another squeal caught Jiko’s attention but what came next caught her off guard.

“Hawks!” Someone screamed and Jiko felt her blood go cold. Of course he was going to be here tonight, he's a pro hero and this event is for pro heroes. She glanced up, seeing his large red wings extend through the door way. Attached to his hip was his girlfriend. She was wearing a skin tight black dress, hair done up, makeup making her look even more beautiful (If that was possible). Keigo was wearing a pair of blue jeans, they had holes in them around the knees. A black button up shirt with a few buttons undone at the very top of it to expose a little bit of his chest.

Jiko felt her breath catch as she quickly turned around and squeezed through the few other bartenders that were behind the bar. She excused herself to the back, running to the break room. She shut the door behind her as she fell into the chair in the room. She was wheezing, attempting to catch her breath.  

What was she supposed to do? She can’t just not do her job but she couldn’t risk Keigo seeing and recongize her. She didn’t want him to. Her life with her son was so good and she didn’t want to have to explain to Keigo that she took money to walk away from him with their child.

It was in this moment that Jikos quirk activated and her hands instantly went to her head. Suddenly she was able to hear every persons thought within the building and she could feel what most of them were feeling. Tears started to pour out of her eyes as she curled up in the chair, shaking her head, trying to turn off her quirk.

Jiko’s quirk was that she was able to change the way people felt and change the train of thought that they were currently thinking. But doing this, she felt everything that they felt. When she got into situations that were overwhelming, her quirk would activate on its own and she wasn’t able to turn it off until she was no longer panicking.  

The only person in her life who had ever been able to calm her down was Keigo. He was able to wrap his wings around and whisper gentle words to her until she was grounded again. This was one of the first times in years that she had had a full-blown episode like this and even though the only person who could help her was in the building, she couldn’t go to him and ask for help.

The break room door opened and Haruto stuck his head in long enough to see Jiko in her weakened state. He instantly opened the door long enough to slide into the break room before he shut and closed the door behind him.

“Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?” He asked as he crouched down beside her.

“I can f-feel everything.” She stuttered out, unable to move her hands from her head.

“What can I do to help?”

“D-don't.. don't know.” She mumbled, starting to rock slightly as she tried to get herself under control.

“Hey, you’re okay. Whatever caused this can’t hurt you, okay? I won’t let it.” Haruto said as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Jiko. She leaned into the embrace, her head resting against Haruto’s shoulder.

“Youta... Youta’s father is here.” She mumbled quietly and a quiet gasp came from Haruto.

“His father is a pro?” Haruto said, slightly shocked. Jiko couldn't find the words so she just nodded her head slowly. ”Who? Does he know?”  

Jiko knew that she had made a mistake in telling Haruto because she didn’t want anyone to know. But she wasn’t exactly in the right head space to be making rational descisions.  

“I can’t tell you who. He doesn’t know.” She whispered, the voice around her slowly dimming. “I don’t want him to take Youta away from me.”

“Well, firstly, he couldn’t just take him.” Haruto said, pulling back as Jikos words steadied themself out. Haruto knew that Jiko didn’t like to touch for long periods of time but he had figured that this was a special occasion.

“I know.” Jiko said, the voices finally subsiding in her head. ”But that doesn’t stop it from being one of the biggest fears I have in life. That he’s going to find out about Youta and he's going to take him away from me.”

“Well, you’re one of the best mothers I have ever met. You bust your ass for your son and I don’t think that anyone would want to separate you and Youta if they spent even five minutes with the two of you.” Haruto smiled and Jiko couldn’t help herself as she reached out and hugged her friend again.

“Thank you.” She said quietly.

“I’m just telling you the truth, Ji.” He said smiling. ”Do you think you can go back out on the floor? You can always come back here if you start feeling overwhelmed again.”

“Okay.” Jiko nodded. Haruto helped pull her to her feet and he opened the break room door for her.

“Just keep your head down, don’t talk to him if you can avoid it.” Haruto said as he pushed Jiko back out the door. She nodded to herself as she went back behind the bar and started to make up more drinks over the next hour or so. She would glance around the room to see if she saw him coming towards the bar but as far as she could tell, he was across the room and too busy sucking face with his girlfriend.

Jiko wouldn’t lie and say that seeing Keigo making out with his girlfriend didn't hurt a little bit. She had never seen him in person with another girl, considering they were each other's only friends growing up. Jiko had just always assumed that her and Keigo would grow old together. She had never had the thought of him being with anyone else because she was just used to...them.

The night started to come to an end, heroes were leaving and so were their guests. It was down to maybe the last ten people left in the bar when Jiko started to work on closing the bar down. She was taking dishes back to the dish room, cleaning up liquor bottles and putting them back into their places. She started to wipe down the bar in places that people weren’t sitting. Anything to make it so she could go home to her Youta.

Maybe four guests were left in the building at this point, Jiko wasn’t paying much attention to the actual guests, just listening to her coworkers count down how many they saw. The bar was more or less closed down when a voice pulled Jiko from the glass she was wiping out.

“Can I get a scotch?” An all too familiar voice asked and Jiko froze on the spot. The glass nearly slipped from her hands before she quickly turned around so that her back was facing Keigo. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her face, maybe he was too drunk to recognize her. All that matters was that she continued breathing and not letting herself get overwhelmed.

She grabbed a bottle off the counter in front of her and poured a small glass of scotch. With her head still down, she turned around and slid the drink across the bar.

“This is the only one I can give you, the bar is closed now.” Jiko said, trying to make her voice sound a little deeper so that he wouldn’t recognize her voice.

“Alright.” Keigo said softly and Jiko could feel his eyes on her. ”You know, you remind me of someone.”  

“Really?” Jiko said.

“Yeah, I swear I know you from somewhere.”

“Don’t know where that could be. I’ve never met you before.” She said, turning away from him again to pretend to clean the counter behind her. The two of them sat in silence for a while before Haruto stuck his head out from the back.

“Jiko! Are we good to shut down?” He called out and Jiko froze in place. Hawks nearly choked on his drink after hearing the name called out.  

“Jiko?” Keigo said quietly but by the time he had gotten her name out, she was already in the back of the restaurant.  

reading list: @goldenfawnwriting

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twelve: finger lakes

a/n: had to split this chapter into two because so much happens. i'm not gonna dick around after posting this and just get to it on the next one - so make this second installment 47 chapters instead, oh my!

The guys were not exaggerating when they told Sam that the audiences were mostly men. For the next few dates, Sam and Zelda both stood off to the side to watch Stormtroopers of Death. Every night was an earful of orange styrofoam and a view to the sea of testosterone and moshing off to their right. Even after a few dates, Sam could feel a rigid schedule of sorts coming into fruition. Scott had barely written anything down but she knew what was to happen for the dates that made up the tour.

Every day it was wake up early and have breakfast, then walk around the town a bit, followed by a drive over to the next stop and a walk around there to check it out for themselves; some time in the middle of the afternoon, they made their way over to the venue, which was often within a few blocks away. Poughkeepsie was the only stop with a hotel: their next handful of stops as well as the one up in Albany, right up the road from there, had no hotel that was within their range.

“Which means we're gonna have to sleep in the car here,” Sam concluded when Charlie and Marla posted up in the alleyway behind the brick building.

“We can lay there in the back seat,” Marla suggested with her head turned towards him.

“Yeah, and I can lean back in the passenger seat there,” Sam chimed in.

“As long as we don't put our tootsies on those glass doves back there,” Charlie told them.

“They're hidden under the seat here, though,” Sam replied as she reached down between her legs and she touched those doves; the tips of her fingers brushed against the edges of their white wings. She kept the glass doves she had bought for her parents wrapped up in a knit sweater and she kept it tucked under the car seat. Charlie vowed to keep it safe from the bumps and potholes that came along with touring, even if it was over the course of two states. It was a tight fit given the sweater as it protected them from the outside world and the rough rhythm of the upstate New York roads. She had faith that they were in a good spot there underneath her seat.

“I'm not gonna drink tonight,” Charlie announced as he unbuckled his seat belt. “As much as I wanna to do that.”

“Did you remember to bring the cup holders, though?” Marla asked him.

“What, the cup holders we bought in Schenectady?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Of course. There was no way I was gonna forget those. It was a stop over there, too, so it's not like I could forget 'em anyway.”

“Okay, okay—I was just checking, you know.”

“I'm gonna start calling you guys Mom and Dad,” Sam joked.

“Why?” Charlie laughed at that.

“Because you guys act like an old married couple.”

“Well, we've been together enough to resemble a married couple,” Marla laughed along with him. Within time, they met up with Zelda, who had driven up there with Billy and Scott, and she didn't seem to mind bunking in their car with them despite Sam's offer to join her, Marla, and Charlie.

That was the night Charlie and Marla treated the both of them to seeing Motorhead and the Plasmatics after Stormtroopers' short set. The five of them congregated off to the side yet again as they watched Lemmy with that big fat bass guitar. At one point, Sam took a glimpse down at her top: a black button up shirt that hugged her breasts, even though she wanted to keep it when she moved to New York City.

She looked back over at Lemmy and those big thick dark mutton chops on the sides of his face, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his shirt unbuttoned all the way down his chest, down to the top of his stomach. She peered back down at her shirt yet again.

She was on tour with Stormtroopers of Death and she was about to start art school, and she fondled Cliff in a closet in the subway. She might as well let loose and go forth. She unfastened the first button, followed by the second and the third: her black bra and a sliver of her stomach were both exposed. Zelda gave her a thumbs up and then a high five. Marla turned around and she ran her fingers through Sam's dark hair to tousle it.

“Perfect and sexy little vixen!” she exclaimed over Motorhead's hard, fast, and abrasive power.

Following their set, Wendy O. Williams sauntered on with a blood spattered white camisole that looked to be falling off of her body and a mini skirt made of partially shredded, old duct tape. She had a short bob of bright platinum blonde hair with a little flip at the bottom and a tight snarl plastered across her face.

“Apparently the cops want me to cover up,” she declared into the microphone in a big upstate accent, “I wanna give it forth to all of you even if it means I gotta wear tiny clothes.”

Something about her made Sam uncomfortable, and yet it made her wonder as she knew her parents weren't around. She could be free for real there on the East Coast. She could have that devil may care attitude herself, much like Stormtroopers but taken through her own. It was like an epiphany of sorts as Wendy shrieked into the microphone and riled everyone up once more.

“Lemmy!” she shouted at one point. “Lemmy! Get yer ass up here an' sing with me!”

Sam watched her and Lemmy perform a hard and loud rendition of that song “Stand By Your Man” together, complete with Lemmy's guttural bellowing and that fuzzy bass with a neck that extended out further than that of Frank's bass. At one point, Sam glanced over at Zelda, who raised her eyebrows at her.

“Life goals right there!” she yelled over the wall of sound.

“Oh, yeah!”

“That's the real Mom and Dad, by the way,” Marla chimed in right next to them, and that in turn brought a laugh out of Charlie.

Wendy disappeared into the darkness and the four of them returned to their beds for the evening right outside of the club. Sam ducked into the front passenger seat, and she kept her purse down by her ankles. At least it was a warm summer night there in Albany; she nestled down in the seat and put her knees closer to the dashboard, but she didn't exactly press them against the hard plastic.

Charlie and Marla slipped into the back seat, but she couldn't exactly see what they were doing.

“Right there, Char,” Marla murmured. “Just—yeah. Like that. There we go!”

Sam heard something rustling back there in the back seat.

“Can I lean back now?” she called back to them.

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie replied, “there's about six inches of clearance between the back of the seat and us.”

“Oh, yeah, you could've done it anyway,” Marla added.

Sam reached down and lifted the lever, and she let the seat lean back in the darkness. Behind the alleyway and around the corner was Scott, Billy, and Zelda in the second car, and then Dan in his car by himself; she shifted herself around onto her side and pulled her kness closer up to her chest so she could feel comfortable. Lucky for her, they were in a pocket of complete darkness against the capital city lights. A sole orange glow from over the club's roof acted as a night light of sorts for her.

Even though she lay in an odd position and in the front seat, she closed her eyes and relaxed right there. She kept her shirt unbuttoned and thus she acted as though she was under a thin little blanket. Sam sighed through her nose and she brought her hands up closer to her head to give herself a touch more comfort.

Sam thought about Wendy and Lemmy, and the way in which their voices twined together with so much perfection. There was a part of her that wanted to be as brazen and expressive as her as well as Stormtroopers. She was a part of the whole shebang after all, to fully express herself come the first day of art school. Every time she closed her eyes, Lemmy's mutton chops or Wendy's bright blonde hair appeared on the backs of her eyelids, and every time, it couldn't make her go to sleep.

It felt like forever for her to fall asleep but she managed to do so despite the strange, cramped setting.

She found herself in a forest, albeit one that was filled with trees that ranged from being as tall as her to as high as the sky. The stumps were all solid black incomparison to the misty, hazy sunlight against the sky. She took a step forward and her foot sank down into the marshy ground. She moved back to her spot and she looked around the clearing.

Behind her was a line of bright green shrubs about the size of bread boxes; she peered up at the trees as they extended high into the sky.

The whole entire forest felt wet, as though it had just rained there. She tried to move about the soft wet soil but it all made her sink.

“Sam?” His voice echoed over the ground in front of her. She turned her head and she saw him walking towards her. His hair was as black as a hole but his face was shrouded in shadow. She couldn't even see his eyes or the tip of his nose, and yet the streak seemed so familiar to her. It extended back from his dark face and yet she couldn't tell if it was black or white, or of a different color. But she knew it was him.

Something hit her hand. She shook it about and brought it closer to her chest. She wanted to run, but she couldn't because the earth was too soft. The very sight of his hollow face was enough to make her shudder and shake. But he approached her in complete silence like a ghost.

His voice echoed and rang about the forest.

“Sam—” His voice was so distant and yet it crept over her like the legs of a spider. “Sam—”

“Sam!”

She opened her eyes and Zelda hung over the driver's side window. She gasped at the sight of her and then she recognized her dark hair. The sky was still dark but melded into a soft light purple with the sunrise.

Charlie and Marla were still sound asleep in the back seat together, but Sam lifted her arm out from underneath her and shook her hand about to get the blood flowing once again. She reached to the window handle: it was awkward, but she mananged to roll down the window for Zelda.

“What's up?” Sam called to her in a broken voice: even though she didn't have a drop of alcohol the night before, her parched and dry lips and mouth made her cough a little bit.

“Danny couldn't sleep,” Zelda told her in a near whisper, “so he got donuts and coffee for us all.”

“Oh, good! I'm dying of thirst right now.”

“Are they still asleep?” She leaned in closer to the window pane.

“Oh, yeah. I'll join you guys, though.”

Careful not to wake up Charlie and Marla, Sam climbed out of the front seat and stood in the warm, crisp early morning breeze for a second. She reached her arms over her head and stretched as best as she could. The buttons on her shirt hung loose over her chest and the upper part of her stomach. Zelda stood at the trunk and stretched for herself.

“You oughta just undo the rest of the buttons,” she suggested in a low voice. “Be like Wendy.”

“I'd have to take my pants off, too,” Sam added.

“And belt out an old country song with Cliff at some point!”

She brought a hand to her mouth to keep her laugh from waking up Charlie and Marla. And then she turned her head towards the sidewalk, and the street which stood empty and deserted behind them. Sam made sight of the mere edge of the fender behind the building's edge, and she ambled over there.

Indeed, Dan stood next to the door with a little white cup of coffee in hand, and a cardboard holder rested atop the roof; and he showed her a friendly little smile.

“'Mornin', Sam,��� he greeted her: the early morning breeze fluttered his long dark curls.

“'Mornin', Danny,” she returned the favor.

“Would you like a donut and some coffee?”

“Pretty please.” Zelda joined the two of them, and Dan handed her a cup of coffee for herself.

“I have no idea how you girls take your coffee, so I grabbed a little bottle of cream.” Scott was still asleep in the front seat of the car next to them, whereas Billy had disappeared.

“Where'd Bill go?” Zelda asked him.

“Went lookin' for a little boys' room,” Dan said with a straight face, and that brought a big laugh out of her.

“Shhhh!” Sam hissed, given Scott, Charlie, and Marla were all still asleep. Zelda clasped a hand to her mouth and she giggled instead as a result. Sam poured some of the cream into the black coffee and she stirred it with the little wooden stick. Dan offered them a donut from the white folded box, which he had placed on the hood for a moment.

Sam took a Boston crème donut for herself while Zelda took the vanilla one with rainbow sprinkles on top.

“Thank you, Danny,” Sam told him.

“Yeah, thank you for this,” Zelda added. “I just woke up and saw you walking back here with the box of donuts and the coffee cups.”

“I wanted to get you girls some coffee,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “Something for myself and the three of you. Billy said he was gonna look for a bathroom and then something for himself, so—I didn't have to worry about him. He did want a donut, though.”

“What about Scott and Charlie?” Sam asked him as she took a small sip of coffee: she peered up at the sky as the soft violet gave way to yellow and orange. The sun was about to rise all the way up over the vast, sleepy side of upstate New York.

“Eh, we'll think of sump'n for 'em,” Dan replied as he tucked a lock of dark hair behind his ear, and that brought another chuckle out of Zelda. He turned his attention to the alleyway behind Sam. “And there's Marla!”

Sam turned to find her walking towards them with a little bit of bedhead and a shake to her step.

“What's goin' on?” Marla asked them as she rubbed her eyes.

“Breakfast,” Zelda replied with a raise of her cup. “Courtesy of Danny.”

“Oh, fantastic—” Marla fetched up a yawn, and Sam handed her the fourth cup of coffee.

“How do you like yours?”

“I can drink it black or with a bit of sugar,” she replied as she rubbed her eye again. “I just like coffee.” Marla took the lid off of the cup and took a sip of the straight up black coffee. She let out a low whistle. “Oh, that hit the spot.”

“There's Billy,” Zelda pointed out behind Sam. “If there's a boys' room, there's a girls' room nearby, too.” She darted down the sidewalk to go talk to Billy; Dan took a raspberry jelly donut out of the box, but Sam kept her attention on Marla.

“Had the weirdest dream before I woke up,” she started as she tucked a lock of violet hair behind her ear. The first rays of sunlight shone upon the crown of her head to give it a nice little sheen against that deep violet; a golden shine appeared upon the roof of Charlie's car.

“What was it about?” Sam asked her.

“I was laying on top of a target and it was spinning around in circles,” Marla explained as she brought the cup of coffee closer to her chest even though it wasn't cold. “Some guy kept throwing stuff at me. Not like knives or anything, but it was kinda nerve racking, though.”

“I've been having dreams about strange men with funny hair,” Sam said. “And then I met Cliff.”

“Oh, I've had those dreams before,” she explained. “Dreamed about a single guy in weird positions, and then I met Charlie and I had this weird like... deja vu feeling. I told someone about it after I met him, and she told me it's a sign that my life is going to take a turn for the better.” More brand new rays of the sun shone upon her hair so it looked as though it was made of a whole multitude colors besides that deep violet.

“Were they at all dreams about someone who resembled to Charlie?” Sam asked her, and Marla shook her head, but then she hesitated.

“Like—I dreamed about someone who looked like him, you mean? Actually—I have, yeah. There was a point I also thought it was Joey, too, given the curly hair. I actually dunno, though, now that I think about it. All I remember was a few times I dreamed about a boy with long pitch black curls down past his shoulders like the two of them. I dunno if it was either of those two guys, though.”

Marla took another sip of coffee and she kept her eyes fixated on the box of donuts.

“What kinda donuts we got?” she asked Dan, who lifted the lid.

“There's a couple'a chocolate ones in here if you'd like, Mar. Like there's one with nuts on top.”

“Ooh, I'll take that one!”

Within time, Billy and Zelda returned, and Charlie and Scott awoke for donuts for themselves. At that point, the sun had risen a bit over the horizon, and Charlie wasn't too pleased that Dan hadn't gotten him a cup of coffee.

“Alright, gang, this next stop is gonna be in a place called Ithaca,” Scott declared from the driver's seat of the car. “It's a three hour drive so we better prepare ourselves and give ourselves some closure before we hit the road.”

But Sam was eager to get going given the promise she made to Joey in Poughkeepsie. She had downed her cup of coffee the hour before but she awaited in the back seat of Charlie's car with her hand down between her legs once again. She touched the edge of the doves' wings once again. She thought about packing it in to a little stout box to keep them in place.

If Zelda, Charlie, and Billy all vowed to protect it, she wanted to further protect it from the harshness of the following road before them.

Three hours on that road all the way over to Ithaca. Charlie led the way and he swore he knew the way to the venue by heart.

Either side of the road was surrounded by lush forest and tiny pockets of houses nestled back away from the ribbon of highway. The whole place reminded Sam of the California coast line, especially the more forested part just prior to the ocean's edge. Granted, the California coast line had far more hills and scraggly shrubs before the ponderosa pines and vast beaches, but the whole feeling through the rolled down window reminded her of her own roots.

The minute buildings of Ithaca appeared from thick green trees while the smooth glassy dark waters of the closest of Finger Lakes emerged from right behind them. Charlie wound his way to the heart of town and the little venue that awaited them again.

“I dunno if the Plasmatics will even be there,” he confessed at one point.

“Why's that?” Marla asked him.

“No idea. But right before we left Albany, their manager told me we were gonna be going with Motorhead for the remainder of the tour. It's only for about a couple of weeks, but still.”

“So it's Ithaca now, and then after that?” Sam chimed in.

“Ithaca and then—” Charlie hesitated for a second as he peered out the windshield to check out the intersection. No stop light, but half of a sign on the corner next to them. “—then we go to Syracuse, followed by Rochester and then Buffalo, and then we double back to Pennsylvania for a bit, and then—”

“School!” Marla declared.

“School,” Charlie echoed, and they lunged forward.

The venue was nothing more than a bar about the size of a shipping container, nestled back in the trees right across the street and from the water's edge. Charlie took the first spot in the back parking lot, right in front of a cluster of tall trees, and Scott and Dan followed suit in the slots next to them.

Sam climbed out of the car and she peered up at the trees: she thought about that dream she had had the night before. Marla said something to Scott and Billy, but Sam only brought her attention to the driveway. She let her eyes wander across the pavement and then the water's edge. Charlie and Marla made their way towards the back door of the bar, while Zelda chatted with Dan about something.

That was her chance.

She never made a call to him, but she knew he was there.

Sam hoisted her purse over her shoulder and she headed down the driveway to the strip of dirt that lined the side of the pavement. The soles of her shoes crunched over the fallen pine needles and she caught a whiff of the pine itself. Pine followed by the breeze from the lake. She waited for a few seconds at the corner, and then she hurried across the dark pavement to that bare patch of dark earth. The waters glimmered under the late morning sun, but the sight she paid more attention to was the crown of curls that awaited her at the shore. She sauntered over to him and stood next to him, who had taken his seat on a smooth little piece of rock.

“Hey, Joey,” she greeted him. He lifted his head and he squinted his brown eyes against the late summer sunlight.

“Hey, li'l lady,” he returned the favor in a hoarse voice. His dark lips were smooth and silken, and his sun kissed skin had not a single blemish. His hands were empty, much to both her joy as well as disappointment.

“You're looking good this morning,” she told him.

“So are you,” he replied, “even after your first tour.” He showed her a little crooked smile. She gave her hair a toss back with a flick of her head and she gazed on at the sheet of lake waters before them.

“So this is Finger Lakes,” she remarked.

“Beautiful Finger Lakes,” he echoed with an extending of his arm out; he beheld the vast view of the glassy black waters before them. Despite it being the hottest part of summer, Sam shivered at the feeling of the gentle breeze on her head and shoulders. “Well, one of 'em, anyways. There's five of them.”

Sam tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear: even a gentle touch on her hair was enough for her to feel the oil and the dirt. She hadn't showered since she left New York City, in almost two weeks. She turned her attention to Joey.

“I am in need of a shower,” she told him, and he lifted his head to her. “Like—this is dire. I never noticed it before because I've just been with a bunch of people who hadn't showered in that long, either.”

“You literally haven't been able to shower,” he stated, and she shook her head. He nibbled on his bottom lip and then his face lit up.

“You know, it's a little bit of a drive—not nearly as bad as it could be—but I can take you over to my parents' place and you can use their shower. They're not home right now—they're over in Rochester visiting my aunt, but I can get ya in, though, if you'd like. What's the date after here?”

“Syracuse and then Rochester, then Buffalo, and then we go down to Pennsylvania,” she recalled what Charlie had said verbatim.

Joey returned his attention to the waters before him. He was silent for a long minute before he spoke again.

“I can get you back here quick,” he told her as he stood to his feet.

“You sure?” she asked him.

“Yeah, positive. I grew up around here so I know this whole part of upstate like the back of my hand.” He brushed off the seat of his pants. “Sam, I've gone a whole week without showering and I couldn't hardly stand myself. I'm taking you there—but tell somebody over there where you're going, though.”

Joey led her away from the water's edge and towards his car posted up the street: she could see the sight of the partially collapsed curb.

“There's Marla,” Sam pointed out as they reached the street and she recognized her head of violet hair near the front door of the bar.

“Go tell 'er about it,” Joey encouraged her. Sam ducked across the pavement with her hand clutched upon the purse's strap; Marla hesitated for a moment to await her.

“What's going on?” she asked Sam once she came within earshot.

“I am in horrible need of a shower,” she stated, “so Joey's taking me over to his parents' house for one. No idea how far it is from here but I just can't take it anymore, Marla.”

She nodded her violet head and showed her a thoughtful look.

“Okay. Uh—I'll tell Charlie about it. Just so long as you guys get back here by the middle of the afternoon.”

“He's an upstate boy so he knows this way better 'round here than I do,” Sam pointed out with a shrug of her shoulders. “I can promise you he will.”

“Okay, we'll be waitin' for you.” Marla flashed her a wink and Sam doubled back to Joey and his car.

He held the door for her and she bowed into the comfy front seat, and he took to the driver's seat.

“It's only an hour drive,” he told her. “So we'll be back here in time for the whole set up session.” He shut the door and he hesitated. “Oh, yeah.”

“What?”

“I feel like such a complete and total dick sayin' this but—I've smelled locker rooms that smelled better than you, Sam,” he confessed.

“Yeah, I feel like a locker room,” she added with a shrug of her shoulders. “The floor of a locker room.”

“Alright, let's get going.” Joey almost fumbled the key but he fired up the car and they left the side of the street. They rolled down the windows so they could take in the late summer sunshine and the freshness of Finger Lakes. Even though it was an hour drive to his parents' house, a drive past the lakes and into a strange part of the wilderness, every minute felt like an hour in and of itself as the dirty feeling settled over her. She never exactly paid a lot of attention to it before given she was exposed to a few people just like her, but as she sat there in the front seat of Joey's car, it only made her realize things. The crown of her head and her skin all itched from the feeling.

Two weeks without a shower. Two weeks in only two different pairs of underwear. She wondered if Zelda was used to it all, and she wondered if the guys in Legacy had problems with it themselves.

“It's okay, we're almost there,” Joey promised her as he brought them to the middle of the road for a few seconds. “We're literally almost there.” He hung a left and they headed down the narrow little cul de sac there. He pulled up to a little one story brick house surrounded by more of those same lush trees on the right side.

“This is your parents' house?” she asked him with a smile.

“Their new one, anyways. I grew up over in Oswego, which is literally a straight shot from here. And we're actually not too far from Syracuse, either. But anyways—” He was quick to unfasten his seat belt and he led her up to the front step. He unlocked the front door with the spare on his key ring and Sam was met with a cozy front living room that smelled of soup and fresh new fabric.

“Okay, I think my mom has towels in the linen closet—I'll pick out one for ya. Just go down the hall and you'll see the bathroom right there... she has really nice soap and shampoo in there. It's a nice big bottle so you can probably take a tiny bit and it wouldn't make a difference.” Sam set down her purse on the coffee table and she jogged down the narrow hallway to the cozy bright bathroom with an olive green rug. She couldn't get those clothes off of her quicker. She couldn't switch on the water faster.

Such bliss!

The lavender in the soap nourished her while it washed away all the dirty feeling from her skin. Given he wasn't joking about the size of the shampoo bottle, she washed her hair twice with a bit the size of a dime every time. When she switched off the water, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was about to climb out of the tub when she realized something. All of her clean underwear awaited her in her suitcases in Charlie's car. This was his parents' house, but she couldn't take it anymore.

She bowed her head out from behind the curtain and she tucked the pair of underwear into the wicker basket next to her tub. She even buried it underneath a few wads of tissue and washed her hands from the tub faucet before she called Joey in for a clean towel.

She kept herself tucked behind the curtain as he stepped in there.

“Just the best feeling, isn't it?” he asked her and that crooked smile never faded for a second. She took the towel and dried off her head and shoulders before she moved onto her body. It was going to be awkward, but she had to tough it out for a little bit longer across New York and Pennsylvania before they returned home. She did have a skirt if push came to shove for the first day of school.

She slipped on her jeans over her bare legs and then she put her shirt back on. She ruffled her hair with the towel once more before she slipped it into the hamper at the end of the hall.

Joey handed her her purse once she returned to the front of the house and they headed back outside. Just in time.

“Joey?” she started as he locked the door; he peered over his shoulder at her. “Thank you.”

“Just doin' what I can,” he said, and he tucked the key into his jeans pocket. “Just doin' what I can to help. C'mon—let's get ya back there.”

[heywoodvirgin]

Borro Cassette ( chapter 1)

Part 2 of my series : “ Heal our Scars” 

Pairing :  Modern!Jackie Welles / Original Female Character 

Rated : Teens and up

( I really ship Jackie and V and Jackie and Misty but I keep writing him with original characters lol). Anyway. Here some angst and hurt, enjoy if you can :p 

---- 

Knock, knock, knock!

Mey gasped.

A brutal yet sloppy knocking on her door woke her up from a peaceful rest.

She knew no one who would knock on her door, especially not at …2am on a weekday? Jackie was the first person that came to her groggy mind, but Jackie, he had his key, as the only and special member of her VIP club, of course he had his key, unless…

“ Oye mi amor, no me digas que no

Y vamos juntando las alma-aaaas”

Fucking Jackie it was.

“Oye mi amor, no me digas que nooooooo”

Knock! Knock!

“Y vamos juntando los cuerp-ooooos”

His drunken massacre of the song continued on and on as she hurriedly put a robe on and dashed to the door, messily unlocking it.

“What’s— ow ow ow –“

A very dressed up but wasted Jackie tripped on her doorstep, and she had to maneuver a sloshed +300lbs to the wall to prevent her from ending like a stain of mashed pepetos on the floor.

“Ah… knew you would open-you…” he slurred, a lazy smile tugging on his lips.

“Wh- why wouldn’t I?” out of breath and bemused, she tried to support them both as far as her untrained arms could, as he let himself slump further into her. A few moments passed like that and she thought he’d blacked out on her, when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

“Bathroom” he urged in a huff, he sounded pained.

“Yeah of course, of course”

With an approximative shoulder move, she pushed her bathroom door open for him and he fell on his knees before the sink. It’s just when she switched the lights on that she saw.

“Holy fuck! your eye, what the fuck happened!?”

He grumbled, before discharging another pack in the sink.

“Whaddaya think happened?” He wiped his mouth, coughing the last remnants.

“Feel better?” she presented a glass of water “I have coffee, too”

“For later, maybe” Jackie dragged himself to her couch, Mey followed, folded her robe carefully as she faced him, seated on her living room coffee table. Seconds passed in worried silence.

“Now you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

“Huh? Yeah… what happened, Lin… woud-dn’t let me i-hn…”

“That, I know, otherwise you wouldn’t crash like a sack of ham at my door”

“Eugh, don’t be harsh on me, cariño” he closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose.

Jackie only called her sugar-coated names when he was drunk, she sighed.

“Jack, what happened to your eye!”

“Ehn this… Beat up some pendejo, made’im eat his own shit-“

He gave her a drunken, smug smile and shrugged, that’s when her phone started to beep, a message popped in:

Hey Mey, Jackie’s there?

Lin. She debated whether or not to answer, as she anxiously eyed the icebag she put on his damaged eye. Jackie still had those involuntary jolts because of the temperature difference. The man was always too hot, but when drunk, he just burnt like a furnace.  She tried not to linger too much on his sweaty neck, the way the few first buttons of his pale blue shirt gave a good glimpse at his generous cleavage, adorned with his eternal golden chains. She inhaled deep and decided to tap.

Yeah… he’s here, drunk, but ok.

The answer didn’t linger to come.

Thanks god. I know you’ll take good care of him. I couldn’t let him in like that. He has to learn. Thank you Mey, I owe you one. See ya.

Yeah. Mey sighed deeply.

“Oye, watcha looking at in your phone?” Jackie had opened one eye.

“Porn”

“Ay, hate to disrupt” he snickered.

“Your… Lin just texted me”

“Pft”

“You guys are ok?”

“Ella ya no me entiende… no me entiende…” He shook his head, suddenly down.

Do you even still… love her? Mey had only this question in mind, but instantly felt a pang of guilt for thinking to take advantage of her friend’s state to worm truths outta him.

“Had she seen you like that?”

“Didn’t even spare a look’a me”

“It’s not the first time huh”

“What’sss noht” Jackie frowned, apparently needing to focus to make out the simplest questions.

“You coming home to her like that”

“Man’s gotta live too”

“That’s what you call living, Jack?” she poked a finger on his ice bag and he grunted in a boozy protest.

“Ah, now you talk like her…’f you gonna talk like her, I better go!” He tried to lift himself off her couch, but he collapsed down with a thud and a grunt.

“Easy on my couch legs, gordi” She giggled as he gave up struggling with himself.

“Here, let me” She sighed and replaced his hands on his belt, trying to swiftly remove it, chastising the very innocent thoughts that screamed in her mind, she hoped he would shut up and let her do it quickly. She made a hasty work of his shoes next, glancing back at him, she saw him drifting to sleep, a peaceful expression drawn on his face. She didn’t think of her couch as the best place for him to spend the night, but she couldn’t think of a better option, and it was impossible to convince him to change position now, anyway.  She winced, thinking of the state of his neck in the morning, when she heard his low complaint.

“Shirt too… caliente…”

Are you kidding me, Welles?

She didn���t know where to start, pinching her eyelids shut and letting out a long exhale, she felt suddenly tired.

She couldn’t bring herself to touch him again, it was like someone tied her hands together. She thought of Lin, probably asleep in their luxurious loft somewhere in Causeway Bay, tulips sleeping beside her in expensive glass, her boyfriend trusted between the hands of his best friend. They were going to be engaged, Mey saw it in how Lin talked, how she suddenly settled definitely in his once grey and black apartment. Lin was a beautiful woman, all legs and silky skin, soft-spoken and sweet, and as if to make it worse, she was smart and composed, poised when Jackie was hot-headed, tempering his ardent personality perfectly. Mey acknowledged that for some time, she liked them together. Or, she hadn’t had the choice, anyway. Lin was already there when she knew Jack, had always treated her with grace. In all the Welles events, Mey was included, and that extended even to dinners Lin would exclusively hold for her models friends. She was familia, as Jack liked to emphasize, and Lin went with the flow, albeit never offering her her open friendship, she never displayed displeasure or jealousy at her presence, and why would she? She was always showered in Jackie’s most undivided attention, while Mey, a small assemblage of clumsy limbs and nervous shyness, watched from afar the kisses and the caresses and all that PDA shit and cheered and laughed and tried, always tried to overlook it, to push it away. She sometimes succeeded to forget that her dresses were never above the knee and that she would never accept their cheerful invitations for beach trips.

Mey absentmindedly traced the rough edges of her ribs, down to her thighs, the skin there would never heal, she knew.  She looked at Jackie again, snoring softly, his shirt resting on her lap now. Shirt on or off, he still was sweating his balls off. She had a final gesture of freeing his hair from his tight top knot, smoothing it gently before she switched all the lights off and wished him a hushed good night.

*

Mey woke up to fried eggs scent and something else, something saucy and pleasant. She sleepily pushed her drool-stained pillow and sighed, half content half longing, distantly recalling the previous night. Invisible tickly fingers were dragging her to the kitchen, but she first made a detour to the bathroom, smoothing her hair, washing her face and putting some clothes on, something more covering than her sleeping shorts, something that wouldn’t display her- she closed her eyes and hurried up changing, wearing her most cheerful voice as she entered her kitchen.

“Hi”

“Buenos dias!“

“What are you doing?” Jackie was visibly in his element, a hand stirring his ranchera sauce, the other shaking the pan, a kitchen cloth loosely thrown on his solid shoulder. And Mey didn’t know over what or who to drool anymore.

“Eh… a thank- you - I’m- sorry breakfast?”

“You’re silly” She laughed “Mornin’ Jack, how’s the eye?”

“Known worse, take a seat hermana, mi especial huevos rancheros are almost ready!”

“I’ve… your shirt is hung on the bathroom door’s-, it’s clean” She stuttered, thinking she couldn’t take another second of those exposed pecs. What was wrong with her, lately?

“Ah, my shirt can wait, relax and let ol’ Jackie serve you” he patted the seat next to him. He’d put the fried eggs and the sauce on the cooked tortillas, peppered it all with chopped cilantro. The view of the colorful dish was distracting her for a moment as she hummed with anticipation.

“I don’t remember having tortillas around, Jackie”

“S’just a ten-minute trip to the closest supermarket, shame they didn’t have cotija cheese, you’d like it better”

“I’m sure I would, now let’s eat! Won’t we?”

That’s when Jackie’s phone decided to come to life. Mey stopped mid-chew, eying her friend as he devoured his second tortilla, seemingly ignoring the call. She decided to shut up too, the scene reminded her of the first time they met, and she stifled a pensive smile.

“Hey, on which bird’s wing you’re flying?”

“Euh, nothing” she hesitated as her smile faltered.

“Tell me, Jack, about last night… Do you know if any cameras were watching?”

Jackie puffed his cheeks, rambled something she couldn’t understand.

“Of course you don’t, you were like a sheet in the wind”

She didn’t mean it to sound depreciative, but it slipped before she could swallow it.

Jackie started to bounce his leg, like every time he was stressed and uncomfortable. She hated to push, but for some reason, her worries beat her delicacy.

“Do you know the guy at least? I mean… is he one of you fellow boxers? An acquaintance? Jack, I really hope you didn’t mess with one of the high finance guys here… Tell me you didn’t”

Jackie was scratching his tattoos now.

“No, no. No te preocupes por mi, I’ll have a word with the club owner, he knows-“

“Jack, you know the stakes for your caree-“

Jackie’s phone rang again, and he let out a series of colorful Spanish curses.

“I think you should pick up”

“I’m not picking up, mierda!”

Mey gasped in her chair, but he was quick to take her hand, soothing.

“Lo siento, that’s not about you, I’m sorry” he held his head in his hands, rubbing his temples.

“I think I fucked up, Mimi, big time” His voice was tired and shallow.

Her phone beeps prevented her from answering. It was Lin, again.

Please Mey, can you tell Jackie to pick up?

“What’s going on, Jackie?” The huevos rancheros were long forgotten, cooling neglected on the small table in the late morning light.

He winced, eyes looking around, evasive, pained, shameful?

Another beep.

Our gynecologist appointment is in 30 minutes, he can’t do that to me. Talk sense into him, please, you’re the only one he listens to.

“Jack, you have an appointment with the gynecologist in 30 minutes?” She slowly questioned, incredulous eyes still on the text, searching for any mistakes, and finding none. Mey’s stomach churned, but the words didn’t have the time to settle in and it was her phone that rang this time.

“No, no, no, Mey! no contestar!”

All she gave him was a stern look before pressing the reply button.

“Por favo-“

“I’m sending him to you in five minutes”

“Hey, I-“

They were both standing now, in an almost antagonistic way, and Jackie didn’t know what hurt more, the disappointment or the wounded look in his best friend’s eyes.

“You have five minutes to leave this place” Mey’s voice broke, before she ran off to her room, slamming and locking the door behind her.

[official-impravidus]

5 Times Peter Did Someone Else’s Makeup

By @official-impravidus for @littlemissagrafina

Rating: General

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Happy Hogan, Happy Hogan/May Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, May Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Morgan Stark

Summary: and the 1 time he did his own

(written for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange)

1

To put it simply, he had been in a rush. Competition season was just around the corner, and MJ was pushing the team to their limits with extra practice, which meant morning practice and after school practice. Peter had barely gotten out of the door once he remembered that he had to get to the school, being in the middle of a deep concentration as he perfected his winged eyeliner. Then, the after school practice ran a half an hour late because everyone was slacking on their ancient Greek philosophers. 

So there he was, scurrying out of the metal doors of Midtown and nearly ripping the car door off its hinges as he rushed into his seat.

“Hey Happy! I’m so so so sorry I’m late. MJ made us stay late because Flash didn’t know difference between Hypatia and Aspasia even though they have over a century apart, and then she started quizzing us on which philosophers specialized in Pythagorean, Peripatetic, or Pyrrhonist, and everyone kept mixing them up and we had to go over it for like twenty minutes until we all had it down and…”

“Don’t need the whole run down, bud. It’s okay,” Happy stated. “Couldn’t understand it if I tried.”

“Right. Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old. Once I drop you off, I’m heading back to the apartment.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s date night! Where are you taking May?”

“Do you remember that new restaurant near that bike shop?”

Peter’s mouth went agape. “That super fancy one where they put chocolate in everything?!”

Happy nodded with a soft grin. “That’s the one.”

“She always looks through the window when we pass by there! She looked up the menu and I swear she was drooling when she read about the bacon mac and cheese.” Peter smiled. “She’s gonna love it, Happy.”

“I hope so.”

“She will,” Peter reassured. With a content sigh, he pulled out his laptop. “I should probably get started on my research paper.”

“You know Tony’s rule,” Happy said.

“No lab work until homework is done,” Peter recited with a nod. “I know, I know. Which is why I’m doing it now.”

“Is it a blackout kinda day or a white noise one?” Happy asked.

“I could go for some of that boring piano music you like.”

Happy shoved Peter’s arm. “It’s not boring.”

“It just strips all the tenseness from my tight, aching muscles. It lulls me to sleep.”

“If it lulls you to sleep, then you shouldn’t be listening to it while you’re doing homework,” Happy said.

“Then, what do you suggest?” Peter asked.

Happy pressed the radio screen and a string quartet of Panic! at the Disco’s “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” began to play.

“Oh, you know me so well.”

Peter fell into a deep focus and had barely realized the car ride was over until Happy had said a soft “we’re here.”

“Thanks, Happy. Have a good evening!” Peter said cheerfully.

“You’re staying here tonight, right?” Happy asked.

“Yeah, I am. It’s a Compound weekend. Why…” Peter’s faced morphed into a disgusted grimace. “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” He shook his head. “See you later!” Happy gave a gentle wave before pulling out.

Peter let out a breath, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he headed into the Compound, fiddling with the watermelon gum wrappers crumpled deep in his jeans.

With a skip in his step, he entered the lab, plopping his backpack on the floor and hopping into his rollie chair with a little spin.

“Hello to you too,” Tony said with a laugh. “Bad traffic?”

“Late practice,” Peter corrected.

“She’s really drilling you guys, huh?” Tony asked. “Well, at least you’ll be prepared.” He looked up from his project, but stopped as he caught sight of Peter’s face. “New look?”

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion, but froze. He hadn’t used a makeup wipe on the drive there. “I… uhm… I… it’s not what it looks like.”

“Well it looks good. Would’ve barely noticed if it weren’t for the eyeliner it’s so natural. I mean really, you’re glowing. How do you get your skin looking so dewey and fresh?”

Peter’s brain could hardly catch up. “I mix highlighter with my foundation.”

“See, I’ve never thought about that. Mine always comes out so dull and flat. I’ll have to try that.”

“You, uh, you’ve worn makeup?” Peter stammered.

“When you’re on camera as much as me, you’ve gotta get at least a little pick me up. I mean, some of that shit is high definition. Do I really want people seeing my pores and pimples in high definition? No thank you.”

“Oh. Uh. Wow.”

“You can’t be new at this. I mean, it looks great. I’m jealous if you are.”

Peter shook his head. “I’ve been doing it for a couple months.”

“And why haven’t I seen it?” Tony questioned.

“I, uh, didn’t want you to think it was weird,” Peter admitted.

Tony softened. “Why would you think that?”

“I mean, I worry you think a lot of things are weird. I just, want to... impress you, I guess.”

“Well, wanna know what impresses me? That winged eyeliner. It takes Pepper ten minutes of fiddling with makeup remover on cue tips when she’s doing hers.”

Peter, nearly rendered speechless, nodded again. “It took a lot of practice.” He paused. “You’re really… you don’t think I’m weird?”

“I could never think you were weird, kid.” He pursed his lips. “Well, yes I can, because you put sour skittles in your chocolate ice cream, but that’s what makes me love you. Don’t be afraid to be weird. I’ve been weird all my life. Embrace the weird and conquer the world with your weirdness because one day, what used to be weird will be brilliant and people will want to be weird like you.”

Peter looked to his feet bashfully. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You know, Pepper has a big charity thing tonight. She could really use your help with her smokey eye.”

Peter perked up. “Really? I’ve… I’ve done makeup on May before, but I’ve never done it on someone with an eye shape like hers.” “Then this will be perfect practice!”

Peter got a little mascara on her eyelid, but he made up with the perfect blend of silver sparkle and charcoal shades.

2

“Stop squeezing your eyes, you’re gonna make the eyeliner bumpy.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to relax when you’ve got a pencil pressing against my eye.”

Peter sighed. “Ned, you just gotta breathe. I’m not gonna poke your eye.”

“It sure feels like you’re poking my eye,” Ned grumbled.

“I’ll do it even lighter,” Peter reassured.

It was 9AM, and Peter was trying to use as much precision in his rush to finish Ned and MJ’s makeup for the pride parade. He had finished his look, a blend of pinks, purples, and blues with silver glitter eyeliner, and was finishing Ned’s rainbow look, or at least, attempting to.

“You were doing so good, man,” Peter whined.

“Because it was all fluffy brushes before this!” Ned groaned. “Just get it over with.”

“I could if you would stop freaking squeezing your eyelids!”

MJ sighed. “Some of us are in the waiting dock, Ned.”

“I’m sorry! I’m not used to this!” Ned exclaimed.

Peter pulled gently at the skin on his browbone, making the skin pulled taunt enough to slide the eyeliner on with one smooth swipe. He followed suit with the other and slumped back into his chair. “Okay. You’re done.” 

“Oh, thank God, because I had to go to the bathroom at like the contour.” He scampered out of the bathroom, legs held tight. 

“What’s in store for me?” MJ asked.

“I was thinking a sharp edged blend of pink and to the dark pink to brown in the crease with a cut crease,” Peter thought out loud.

There was a knock at the door.

“You expecting someone?” MJ asked.

“No?” Peter said, confused. He went to the door, eyes widening in shock at the sight.

There was Tony Stark in a bright blue, pink, and yellow vertical striped suit.

“Mr. Stark! What are you doing here?”

“Today is pride, right?” Tony said with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“I-it is.”

“Great! Then, I’ll give you three a ride. I’m meeting the gang later.”

Peter’s nodded, mouth still wide open. “Because New York pride is endorsed by the Avengers. Right.”

“So, what do you say? I may or may not have pulled out my holographic chrome Ferrari.”

Peter rolled his eyes but let out a light chuckle. “Of course you did.” He stepped out of the way. “MJ’s look will be quick. If you want, I can do something for you?”

Tony grinned. “I’d love that.”

Behind his tinted shades, Tony rocked a pink crease, yellow lid, and blue lower lashline, a big smile adorned by a bright pink lipstick.

3

After the big robot invasion of 2025, the Avengers were beyond exhausted from the dealing with the repercussions and volunteering for the rebuilding.

For the first time in weeks after being preoccupied with volunteering, charity work, and clean up, they could finally relax for a group get together outside of work.

“You know what I could use?” Tony asked to no one in particular. “Really crappy, artificial, not at all traditional Chinese food. Who’s in?” The team all muttered words of agreement, melting into the cushions of the recreation room’s couches. 

“Text me your orders. I sent the menu in the groupchat.”

More mutters of acknowledgement.

Peter settled on the floor, makeup scattered on the coffee table, mouth agape as he stared intently at his reflection, fake lash in hand.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Graduation is just around the corner and I need to perfect my look for commencements,” Peter explained. He blinked, checking for any warping. “How does it look?” 

The team let out a low murmur of “oo”s and “ah”s and “nice.” 

“That looks fantastic,” Natasha praised.

“The adornments to your face are absolutely astonishing!” Thor praised. “Would you be so kind to apply your pigments to my eyes?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You want me to do your makeup?”

“I’d love if you did mine, too,” Natasha said.

“I bet you could do some great red, white, and blue for me,” Steve said.

Peter looked around. “That could be really cool. Avengers inspired makeup looks on the Avengers? I mean, that’d be an honor.”

So he got started. As they feasted on fried rice and General Tso’s spicy chicken, they jammed to ABBA and looked fabulous while dancing to Dancing Queen.

4

“So, I made you some of that green juice you like so you can sip on that while we get you ready. We also put together a playlist of all of your favorite dishwashing music which we both know is also your hype playlist and you need to get a little hype! Let loose! In addition, we also brought you some of your favorite hors d’oeuvres such as chocolate covered strawberries, that basil spread with the tomatoes on the crunchy bread, caprese salad, and just a big pile of prosciutto because I know you like to stress eat salty meats.”

May smiled softly. “Thank you, baby. This is amazing.”

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked.

“Nervous. Excited. Mostly excited. How are… are you okay? With this?” 

Peter nodded. “Of course I am. You’re happy, Happy’s happy, and I… I’m happy. I’m happy that you could find something like this after Ben.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I’m getting married.”

Peter grinned. “You are.” He spun her chair. “Now sit there and be pretty while I do you even prettier.”

“You know, you were at my first wedding.”

Peter looked up. “I was?”

“You were just a baby, but Richard and Mary didn’t want to leave you at home after you had just gotten over your pneumonia. You were wearing a little onesie with a tuxedo printed on it, and you had your foofie.”

“I remember my foofie!” Peter smiled nostalgically as he envisioned the fluffy scarf that he snuggled with for years.

“You had just gotten it, and you would just run your fingers on the blue fluff, entranced by the texture on your little fingers.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. I loved that thing.”

“But, you caused a little bit of a scene.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “I did?”

“Well, your mom had just come back from feeding you and Ben wanted to make you giggle, so he was dancing with you, twirling and spinning you around, and I guess he jerked you around a bit too much and you vomited.”

“Oh no.”

“In his mouth and all over his tux.”

“Oh no.”

“So, really, there’s no reason to worry about messing anything up because at least you’re not doing that,” she said with a teasing grin.

“Well, I’ll try my best not to do that again,” Peter said. He softened, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re gonna make so many new memories and it’s gonna be awesome, May.”

“So are you,” May said. 

“I’m really happy for you.” He shook his head. “Now don’t you start crying and streak this amazing foundation I just put on.”

She let out a wet laugh and held her arms out. “C’mere.”

Peter gave her a tight hug, snuggling next to her in her cushy chair.

She placed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He pulled away. “Now, c’mon. Stop stalling. I have to get this done so I can do mine.”

5

“Tony. Stop crying.”

“This is an emotional time and I am an emotional man!”

“It’s just homecoming.”

Tony crossed his arms and scowled at Peter. “Well you’re not one to talk about just homecoming.”

Peter pouted. “You crash a plane and nearly get killed by your homecoming date’s dad one time…”

“Look at my beautiful girl.” He pet her hairsprayed locks gently.

Morgan rolled her eyes with a smile on her dark red lips. “You’re so embarrassing, Dad.”

“So, when are we meeting this boy? Because then I’ll really be embarrassing.”

“Dad!” Morgan whined.

“You still have told me nothing about this boy. What are you hiding? Is he an Anti-Avenger protestor? Oh, oh! Or is he a scheming supervillain turning you to the dark side?” He gasped. “Does he work for Oscorp?”

“His name is Miles, he’s an artist, and he’s really really nice so please don’t screw this up for me because I really really like him.”

Tony softened. “I’ll behave.”

“Please,” Morgan pleaded.

“I’ll behave!” Tony repeated.

“He won’t,” Peter stated. “And we both know that.”

“Hey! I take offense to that,” Tony said.

“Well, as much as I love this wonderful family chat, I really gotta finish Morgan’s makeup, and when you stress her out, it makes her eyes scrunch up and I can’t get the blending right so… shoo. Scooch your booch outta here.”

“No. I want to stay,” Tony stated.

“Are you not gonna distract her?” Peter asked with a raised brow.

“Maybe…?”

“Tony!”

“Okay! Fine. I won’t say a word. You won��t even know I’m here.” Peter turned back to Morgan, packing a shimmery white on her lid, but flipped around when he heard a choked sob from behind.

“Tony,” he said exasperatedly.

“She’s just growing up so fast!”

1

Peter’s gloved hands trembled as he filled in his eyebrows in a room that did nothing to block the shutters of cameras and excited murmur from the large crowd on the other side of the wall.

Tony took his hand in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Because you can back out any time you’d like.” Peter shook his head. “It’s time. The new generation of Avengers deserve to have a real face to lead them, and for the public to trust us, they need to know that I trust them too. The world knows Spider-Man and his good. And now, they’ll know Peter Parker too.”

“They already know Peter Parker,” Tony said softly. “Peter Parker conducted the widest reaching scientific climate change campaign. He promoted carbon storage, protected and expanded forests in every country on every continent on the planet, and invented a reliable and accessible long-term energy source cheaper and easier to manufacture than fossil fuels. God, Peter. Once they find out that Peter Parker is Spider-Man, they’re going to love him even more.”

Peter’s face flushed a warm red. “Thanks, Tony.” He looked to his reflection and smiled sadly. Looking at his brown eyes, red blended to his crease and blue lining his lashline, he realized that this was the end to a lifetime of secrets and a new beginning where he could finally share the whole person he was.

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“How do I look?” Peter asked meekly.

“You look amazing.” He pulled him into a tender hug. “They’re gonna love you, kid.” He placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and gave a little squeeze. “Do you know how proud I am of you? Because I am. You’re really proving yourself to be quite the hero, and I don’t just mean in your bright red and blue, which really, are you sure we can’t negotiate something a little less gaudy…”

“Says Mr. Hot Rod Red and Gold…”

“I mean, bright blue? Even I have enough class and taste to know that bright blue is a little much.”

“Tony,” Peter said.

“I’m so proud of you kid. You’ve grown into a fantastic young man, and you’re gonna keep growing into a visionary for this next century. You might even outshine me.” He shook his head. “No. I know you will. Because I know you, and I know that you’re an intelligent, selfless, innovating, tenacious, unbelievably incredible person, and you’re gonna change the world.” He smiled a tight, teary smile. “And the world’s not gonna know what hit it once you give it all you’ve got.”

Peter slipped his mask on and took one last shaky breath. “Let’s go do this.”

My name is Peter Benjamin Parker and I am Spider-Man.

[splat-dragon]

heavy is the head that gets no sleep ~Cold is the Night, Oh Hellos

Whumptober 2020, #23: What's A Whumpee Gotta Do to Get Some Sleep Around Here?: "Sleep Deprivation" "Exhaustion"

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he slept.

He’d tried, but no one would let him. Every time he so much as looked at his tent, Miss Grimshaw or Dutch was there, nipping at him for not contributing enough, or Pearson was there, heckling him to go out hunting.

@whumptober2020

Arthur was so, so tired.

 He couldn’t remember the last time he slept.

 He’d tried, but no one would let him. Every time he so much as looked at his tent, Miss Grimshaw or Dutch was there, nipping at him for not contributing enough, or Pearson was there, heckling him to go out hunting.

 Every time, he wanted to scream. ‘Look at the ledger! Look at my goddamn name!’ he was contributing more than anyone else, but they acted like he was just sitting on his ass. Like it was him getting drunk, sitting around the campfire, night after night, instead of skipping sleep to bring in supplies and money and provisions. Last time he’d lost his temper - once Dutch walked off, of course, he was no fool - and nearly thrown the ledger when he’d found he was right, his name had been on the page thirty nine out of the fifty times on the front-back spread, all jewelry or decent amounts of money or carcasses, not goddamn bat wings (really Marston?!) or nickles and dimes.

And it was another one of those nights.

 He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d slept.

 Three nights?

 Four?

 Five?

 His stomach was growling but he was too tired to eat.

 He finished signing his name on the ledge - Arthur     Silver Pocket Watch     $8.00 - for the ninth time in a row, making sure his satchel was empty before turning on his heel, sending up a small prayer before beginning to make his way to his tent.

“Arthur!”

 Oh no.

 “I have a lead I need you to follow up on.” Dutch. Why was it always Dutch.

 He looked longingly at the cot he could see beckoning at him from his tent,

 “Please son, I need you to do this for me. It’s very important.”

 He sighed, knew Dutch wouldn’t let it drop. “Alright, Dutch.”

 The man’s face lit up, and he clasped Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur wobbled, had to catch himself, but Dutch didn’t notice, already digging through his pocket, shoving a piece of paper in his hand. “Here, there’s a man named Jackson Ricketts at this address, he’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

 “...okay Dutch.” but he was already walking away, picking up his most recent book off the table he kept near the flaps of his tent.

For a moment, all he could do was stand there. Stare at Dutch, plopping down in his chair and leaning over to start reading with Molly. Turn to stare at his cot, then at the ledger. Had he put in what he’d brought back that evening? He was pretty sure he had, but he really couldn’t remember.

 Arthur took a moment to fumble through his satchel.

 Either he’d put in the jewelry and money he’d brought back, or he’d been robbed.

 He was so tired he couldn’t find it in him to care.

 But then Javier’s guitar started to play over at the campfire, and he did care. Anger, indignation, started up bright hot in his stomach, how was that fair? He could see Bill sitting near the campfire, and he hadn’t even seen Bill’s name on the ledger!

 But just as quickly the anger flickered out, what was the point? He’d just get told he needed to pull his weight, do his part, and then he’d get shoved towards the horses even if he demanded they check the ledger, get told to stop acting like a child, ‘you’re too old to be acting like this, Arthur!’ and then the others would laugh at him, and Micah was over by the fire too, and nothing infuriated him more than seeing that smug bastard laughing at him.

 So he threw a last, longing look at his cot, could have sworn he heard it say “Sleep?” though that could have been his subconscious telling him something, and trudged over to the horses.

 Stared blankly at his mare - the O’Driscoll had untacked her.

 He had to tack her up.

  Fuck, he had to tack her up.

 The O’Driscoll had left her saddle on the post right next to her.

 Small blessings.

He picked up the saddle, grunting beneath his weight, took a step and proceeded to drop it.

 Heard someone laugh - looked up, but no one was looking at him. Scowled, very funny Micah, stooped down and picked it up again, struggling, couldn’t remember the saddle ever being this heavy before. John was laughing, but when he looked up the man had turned away, was staring at the campfire as though he’d never moved, and irritation boiled low in Arthur’s stomach.

 Finally managed to fling the saddle onto the horse, throwing it more than setting it down, apologized under his breath and stepped forward, tried to tighten the cinch and

  “Even after all these years, can’t even tack up a horse.” Dutch scowled in his ear and he whirled about, bared his teeth the man was going too damn far! but what the hell? He was still sitting over with Molly, showing her something in his book, and he blinked - he must have been more tired than he thought, goddamn was it even safe for him to ride out?

 Probably not, but it wasn’t like anyone would listen if he tried to say anything, so he shook his head, ‘Just imagining things,’ and fastened the cinch.

 Or, at least, tried to.

 He couldn’t get the damn cinch fastened.

 His hands were shaking too badly, and the world was doing a funny swirling thing. He took a deep breath, found it oddly shaky and then he wasn’t even trying, was just clutching the cinch in his hands and taking deep breaths, then not even those.

 “Arthur?” Hosea’s voice was loud in his ear, too loud, and he flinched, “Arthur son, what’s wrong?” and oh, he’d thought he was imagining things again but then there was a very real hand on his arm, one grasping his chin and forcing him to look up, he hadn’t even realized he’d leaned over, grinding his forehead into her saddle, and wow Hosea was whirling wasn’t he?

 “Arthur, you’re crying,” and huh, he hadn’t even realized that, reached up to wipe his face and was startled to find his hand wet, “Son, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

 “...I can’t do this.” his breath hitched, and he looked at Hosea pleadingly, “Hosea, I’m so tired, I… I can’t… I just want to sleep.”

Hosea couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Arthur so distressed. He was looking at him with nothing shy of sheer desperation. Looking at him as though he needed permission to sleep, tears streaming down his face, breathing becoming more and more labored, hitching as though he couldn’t catch it, “Okay Arthur, okay, you can sleep, just calm down.”

 But Arthur’s nostrils flared, face flushing red as he tried - failed - to raise his voice “No I can’t! No one… no one will let me! I-I just… I want to sleep. I haven’t slept in days. Everyone else is… is drinkin’ and partyin’, and I haven’t slept.”

 Fury settled, cold as fresh ice, in Hosea’s stomach.

 He wanted to storm over to the men that he could see drinking around the campfire. Beginning to slur along to Javier’s singing, celebrating nothing at all, costing them money in beer while bringing in nothing. Wanted to wrench Susan and Pearson and Dutch by the ears - Arthur hadn’t named names or pointed fingers, but it didn’t take a fool to guess who’d caused him to work himself to the edge.

 Shit, but he wasn’t blameless. He’d spent the last few days with Arthur when he was in camp (which, he realized with a sinking stomach, wasn't many) and hadn’t seen him sleep, didn’t think he could remember him eating either, and how he had missed how awful he looked he didn’t know. His eyes were bloodshot, his face sunken in. His eyes were so dark he’d thought, when he’d first walked over, that he had had a pair of black eyes, the bags beneath them so heavy even his bags had bags. Even as tears dripped down his face his eyelids sagged as though he were about to fall asleep right there, “Hosea, please, I’m so tired.” but he was fumbling with the cinch again, failing to secure the strap by a mile.

 Hosea’s throat clicked on a swallow - what had they done to their son? what had they done to make him think he had to work himself to this point? - and he nodded, “Of course Arthur, come on, let’s get you to bed.” but Arthur didn’t move, instead wavered on his feet, and Hosea’s heart leaped into his throat, lunging to grab his arm and steady him, called out “Mr. Smith! Help me please!” and Charles jogged over from where he’d been on watch, leaning his rifle against a hay bale as he shrugged Arthur’s arm over his shoulder, the man’s head lolling against him.

Arthur was vaguely aware of his arms being thrown over people’s shoulders, of being carried-dragged-a small distance. Of being laid down on something that seemed impossibly soft, wanting to surge up because I need to work! no one else will! but he felt so heavy so surely he could lay down for just a second?

 “‘Night Arthur,”

 A hand ran through his hair, “Sleep, son,” and his blanket was tucked up to his chin, but he was already long asleep.

Hosea nodded to Charles as they stepped out of Arthur’s tent, rolling his shoulder, protesting at having supported Arthur’s heavy weight, the young man frowning in concern even as he went back to take up his watch.

 The older man sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, remembering what Arthur had been mumbling as they carried him back to his tent - most of it had been too nonsensical to make out, but he’d definitely made out one word.

 But he didn’t dare risk waking Arthur, so he waited until he was flinging open the man’s tent to boom,

 “VAN DER LINDE!”

[jamiebluewind]

Happy Thanksgiving! Here's Some Angst!

I typed up the entire Shadow Cat scene from episode 6 of Fantasy High Season 2 and if I have to suffer, then so should yall! ^_^

*****

While Riz is grumbly asleep in a chair, waves billow up around Fabian in the darkness.

DM: You awaken in your room in a state of night paralysis. Like your body can't move. You look and see that the window has been slid open in your room, Fabian is gone, the sword of the seacasters has been plunged through the engine of the handman and it is on its side leaking oil onto the floor. You not only can't move but you feel a tremendous weight on your chest. Materializing there -sitting on her haunches - is a black tabaxi woman.

Calina: Hi Riz. How ya doin?

Riz: Wha- what did you do to Fabian?

DM: Your voice comes out in a crock. You realize that you couldn't shout in the state that you're in.

Calina: Oh *palms up and quick shake of the head* I can't take any credit for that. That uh that was the boss.

Riz: You work for the nightmare king?

Calina: Yeah kiddo! I work for the nightmare king. That's right. You have... grown. You're like... the spitting image of your mother and father. Like a perfect combo of the two.

Riz: Why would you... my parents trusted you. Why would you... what are you doing?

Calina: What am I doing? You said it Riz! Come on. *eyebrow* I work for the nightmare king.

Riz: But why?

Calina: Is that an honest question? Why? He grants me unlimited power. All that I am and all that I am capable of doing, he gave to me. Do you really not understand why a person might... *purse lips* DO things that *slight nod* benefited them? *silence* I know that YOU only do things to kinda distract yourself from how DEEPLY sad you are that your dad is gone, I get that. The maidens and then you find the maidens and then it's on to the next thing and the conspiracy board and you dont sleep and you're digging digging digging- it's like *hand out* when you were in that palimpsest. You will dig until your own hands are bleeding because the SECOND you slow down, you will have to deal with the fact that he's not coming home. Sorry bud. *pause* So we gotta talk about you and your friends coming for this crown because that's gonna be a no go from us.

Riz: What... what do you

Calina: What do I want?

Riz: Yes.

Calina: I just said it. Pack it in and go home. This one's not you chief. (beat) Now, I know that I'm talking to the most obstinate one in the group. I do get that, for sure. And I'll admit *looks around* I've been having a hard time breaking through whatever these little runes are, but you guys seem to have fucked up badly enough. Seems like whatever was keeping me out wore off and now we're back here

Riz: So it's not the nightmare king that's- it's you that's- you can come into our dreams?

Calina: Are you dreamin right now? Wanna pinch yourself? *points* Oh you can't you're paralyzed, sorry.

Riz: *scoffs*

Calina: I just wanna see if we can talk reason. You guys wanna get this crown back. That can't happen. Where do we find compromise here? Cuz, *head tilts head toward other room* they're restraining your buddy Ragh out there and while they're doing that, *points* Fabian slipped out the window, so I would cut my losses at one dead friend. That would be me. But we could go for more if you want.

DM (paraphrasing): Murph has to roll well for The Sword of Shadows to be in the bed (was he on a chair, couch, or bed?) with him as he sleeps. He rolled well.

Riz: *tries to crain his head to look intimidating or confident* How bout no dead friends?

*uses the sword to misty steps out, landing in the campus of The Gold Gardens*

*takes 10 points of falling damage*

*clatter to the ground*

*arms paralyzed so something breaks when it hits at an odd angle*

Riz: *groan sound*

Calina: *walks out of a little allyway. She looks out.* Aw bud. He's been gone. I should've given you a time on that. That's my mistake *sigh* So we definitely clocked some eye contact when you were about to be sacrificed, right?

Riz: *hard sigh* Yeah

Calina: You seem like the kind of guy who likes information. Is there any kind of information that I can offer *Riz scoffs* you?

Riz: Wha do you want in return?

Calina: Buddy we're JUST talkin right now. I'm trying to get you to see reason.

Riz: I wanna know where the crown is. I wanna know were Fabian is. I wanna know why people are coming for us in our sleep.

Calina: Why do you assume that I know where the crown is?

Riz: *pause for several seconds* You don't know where the crown is. ... oh. boy.

Calina: That's not what I said. I asked why you THINK I know where the crown is. I would correct you, but I don't think you're gonna believe me.

Riz: I think I know where the crown is and you have HANDILY defeated me even after I said my cool one liner, so I assume that you also figured it out.

Calina: What you do see happening from here? Because I do want to get this sorted out, but I am tr- look. *palms up* I think you can see that I have no tricks up my sleeve. I'm not doing anything. I'm not using any spells on you. I'm no MURDERING you right here on the ground. Right? I want this to be resolved amicably. Um, the issue that I'm feeling right now is I wanna know what needs to happen for you guys to give this up and if you DON'T give it up, then I guess I'm gonna say that this is gonna get so much worse.

Riz: We can't give it up.

Calina: What? You can't take the F? Can't repeat the year? Buddy, what are you talkin about?

Riz: *breath* We can't give it up because it... it... it would be... it would he wrong.

Calina: It would be wrong. Well what's right about you and your friends dying? Seems like Arthur Augefort has it all figured out. Got a bunch of kids going out there and putting themselves in harm's way. Gettin their lives taken and for what? What do you care what happens in Silvar, The Forest of the Nightmare King?

Riz: It's not it's not gonna end there. If we don't stop this, then you'll do this to the next adventuring party that comes after you.

Calina: Well, you seem pretty set in your ways. Do you know who I am?

Riz: I know that you worked with my father.

Calina: Pok Gukgak. It's a good man.

Riz: What went wrong between you two?

Calina: Nothing went... wrong between us. How bout this. We do a little information swap. You ask me a question about your dad. You answer a question of mine.

Riz: *pause* I dont think now is the time to get nostalgic. I wanna know that my friends are okay. My father's already gone. If you want information, you would have ta... I would need to know that they were safe.

Calina: *clicks tongue* Know that who was safe? You want me to... help your friend Fabian out? I can make sure he doesn't die. It's not too late. But I'm gonna need everything. I'm gonna need everything you know.

Riz: (long pause) Alright.

Calina: Tell me what you know.

Riz: How do I know if I tell you what I know that you can help me?

Calina: *shrug* You don't

Riz: I'll tell you were I think the crown is going, you bring Fabian here. *she breathes in to interrupt him* Once Fabian's here, I'll tell you who I think has it.

Calina: Kid, I don't need to know about where the crown is going. *pupils narrow to slits* I wanna know what you know about me.

Riz: I know that you're... working with... demons.

Calina: *nods*

Riz: I know that you worked with my father at one time.

Calina: Mmhm

Riz: I know that you're trying to sacrifice people to make something come about.

Calina: *sniff* Alright. That everything?

DM (paraphrasing): Out of character, Murph asks if he knows anything else. He knows about the mirror, the photograph that only some people can see, and that she was seen the night of prom, Ragh saw her talking with Porter and Adaine's mom, and she threatened Ragh.

Riz (can be seen as internal dialogue, out loud, or Murph ooc dialogue with the DM): I guess I share... yeah. I guess I share everything. I guess I share everything I know. I'm in a pretty bad position, here.

DM (paraphrasing): *Fabian is picked up from the dark ocean by something that couldn't be seen without his darkvision. They are horrible imp like things with dark wings. They drop him at a slum at the edge of Leviathan*

Riz (can be seen as internal dialogue, paraphrase of actual conversation, or Murph ooc dialogue with the DM): Um, I think I don't... mention Adaine's... mom. I just say it was the night of prom. I.. I give all the information except Adaine's mom. That we were there. That we saw the... that we knew the crown was there. Did the fight during prom night. It disappeared. I think I try to not bring other people into it. I don't have very good deception.

Calina: *her eye slits narrow and flicker again. Her 3rd eyelid twitches* A student saw me? Wow. Okay. Well, Fabian's alive. If you wanna run - little goblin scurry around and find him - you can do that. Don't keep looking for the crown or we are gonna kill every last one of you. And you do have some time to talk it over because I'm gonna head out and go kill Lydia Barkrock. *points to eyes* Take care. *vanishes*

Riz: *runs back to the room where his friends are, arm still broken*

*****

Let me know if I missed any typos! ^_^