#hang on i gotta put this in the drafts while I find my tag

[haunting-system]

if littles know how to do 1 thing, it's get into the most random stuff that's like. not age inappropriate, just unexpected

this post was made by little A, who got really into Superliminal last night and is now watching Tubbo talk about the current Dream twitter drama lol

[mattsboldyy]

the day when the real work begun | the umich hockey team

find part one of this series here !!

summary - you had your work cut out for you.

words - 629

warnings - fem!reader

authors note - eee!! this series is making me so happy. big shout out to @hockeyboysarehot for giving me this amazing series idea. <3 i love y’all a ton, enjoy this :)

—————————

“we select from the university of michigan, y/n l/n

“no way.” you gasp, jumping up and hugging all your friends and family.

“hey love bug, how are you feeling?” matty beniers said through the phone, “oh lord. i’m so nervous. how about you though?” you laughed, standing in the kitchen of your michigan home. “i’m all good.” matty said, laughing back. “i bet. yeah mom i’m coming! sorry matty, i gotta go. good luck today!” you said before hanging up the phone and heading over to the living room.

your whole family was basically there. all packed into your childhood home, where all of your dreams and hopes of playing hockey were born and came true. never in a million years did you ever think of being even eligible for the nhl draft. most guys nhl draft eligible always want to be up there in draft picks but it was completely different for you. you didn’t care if you were last. all that mattered to you was that you were becoming a role model for all those little girls out there who thought it was never possible for a girl to join the nhl. it gave them hope that maybe their dreams will come true one day, and they will be draft eligible.

“you got this baby.” your dad said, taking your hand in his. “yeah.” you said, taking a deep breath as the nhl draft was just about to start. after all of the introductions were over with, buffalo was on the clock. “on behalf of the buffalo sabres and all out great fans, we are proud to select from the university of michigan, owen power.” a smile immediately erupted on your face. owen deserved it he really did. you were so happy for him. he was one of your best friends this year and helped you a ton with everything. “aww owen!” you laughed, seeing him hug his family and friends. ‘i’m so proud of u, o.’ you texted him, before putting your phone away while seattle was on the clock.

next pick - seattle

“on behalf of our passionate fans, i am proud to make the historical first ever amateur draft selection for our team by choosing, from the university of michigan, matty beniers.”

next pick - anaheim

“the anaheim ducks are proud to select mason mctavish”

-

“…luke hughes”

-

“…kent johnson”

-

“…simon edvinsson”

-

you sat there patiently, waiting for the chance of your name to get called. smiling each time one of your teammates gets selected.

you had started zoning out around the 13th pick which belonged to calgary.

“buffalo is now on the clock for their second pick of the 2021 draft.”

“the buffalo sabres are pleased to select, making history, from the university of michigan, y/n l/n”

your eyes widened and your mouth dropped. “did they just say my name?” you mumbled, as your family started jumping up and down, crowding you with hugs and congratulations. “lets go baby!!” you high fived your old teammates while laughing.

later

“OWEN!” you yelled through facetime, smiling. “SMALLS!” he yelled back, laughing while running his hand through his hair. “ya know this whole professional nhl thing is going to be a lot easier now that i know i’ll have someone i’m close with along side me.” owen said, holding his phone. “yeah? i’m glad i have you too owen.” you said.

- draft interview -

“hey y/n. congratulations to you and your family on this historic moment. describe today in your own words.”

“the day when the real work began.”

—————————

tagging some friends!

@1-800-iluvhockey @owenpowersglasses @hockey-lover86 @bitchinbarzal @pierrelucduboiis

[thiswasinevitableid]

For mermay, #25 siren for Sternclay, rating up to you? Thank you so much, I love your fics!

Here you go! I went with SFW and it's set in the same universe as the other siren prompt I got this year

Joseph has sailed so far over the horizon of regret that he’s landed right back on the shores of resolve.

The highway curves through low mountains, extends in interminable straight lines of super-heated asphalt, and he drives both stretches with purpose, eyes fixed on his goal so as not to see the last forty-eight hours lurking in his rearview mirror.

When the sign reading “Kepler: Population 3,000 on land, 50 in water” reflects the setting sun he slumps back in the driver seat, too tired to be glad, excited, afraid, or anything else at all.

He passes the Cryptonomica, proclaiming itself the premier place to learn about the Roadside Sirens. Rolling his eyes means he nearly misses the drawbridge warning, the barrier dropping and bridge rising to allow a small sailboat to pass. It’s aboard this he sees his first siren; dappled tail hanging in the water as she converses with the other passenger and waves to the siren working the bridge.

The bridge lowers and he continues forward as the early evening overtakes the main road. Neon crackles to life, creosote and rabbitbrush drift through the window when he rolls it down. The sign on Amnesty Lodge declares vacancies, so he pulls into the parking lot. It’s a strange lay-out, little cabins dotting the patches of pools that, once upon a time, must have been enclosed in rooms. Now they glisten under the emerging stars, some surrounded by lawn chairs and set ups to play horseshoes or cornhole. The building housing the lobby is precariously perched on the bank of the slow flowing river, another building whose neon is unlit sitting beside it. He pays the young lady at the counter for a week to week cabin and lugs the remainders of his life inside.

In the bathroom mirror, the wear of this trip is clear in the wrinkles on his suit and the dust on his shoes. He strips down, rinses off, and heads into the night in his shorts and T-shirt from Puget Sound. On a whim he turns right, follows a trail that leads him into the state park. He pays the five dollar fee in a little envelope as he continues on his way. Just as he reaches a scenic viewpoint, the singing starts.

Joseph can’t see any of the singers, can only pick up six or so distinct voices swirling around him.

It’s said the roadside sirens will tell you what you need.

It’s said the roadside sirens are the only way Kepler gets new residents

It’s said the roadside sirens will lead you to your hearts desire.

It’s said the roadside sirens are not always gentle.

All that tugs at Joseph’s heart is exhaustion. When footsteps creak across the boards behind him, he turns to find a man in a ranger uniform. Their eyes meet a moment and the man nods in greeting, “Evenin sir, you got any questions?”

“What do you hear when they sing?”

The ranger shrugs, “I hear them singin’. Never been all that susceptible to ‘em. Well, except for one, but he don’t sing all that often and the last time it was to tell me he missed me while I was out here workin’.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow. The man comes close enough for him to see his name tag. All it says is, “Duck.”

Duck chuckles, leans his arms on the railing, “S’okay, most folks don’t believe me when I tell ‘em that. See, thing about sirens is, you gotta have unfulfilled desires for the song to take hold. First time I was in Kepler, didn’t have a goddamn clue what I wanted from life. When I came back, found the two things I wanted right away. Been pretty content since.” He glances at Joseph, “why, you hear somethin that worries you?”

“I don’t hear anything besides-”

A burst of blue and orange light spills across them; the building beside Amnesty Lodge has come to life, and Joseph can see a line out the door from here. More importantly, someone is singing and his body moves towards the source without him noticing.

“I mean, if your main want is you’re hungry, Lodge is a damn good place to start. Put Kepler on the map. Or, uh, guess the sirens put it there and the Lodge kept it there once the novelty wore off.

“Uhumm” Joseph nods, waving an absentminded goodnight as he follows the path back to the Lodge. He’s about to join the others waiting to get through the door when he gets a flash of an image; a draft on a desk, announcing the Lodge needed a cooks assistant.

What the hell, it’s worth a try right?

A knock on the back door summons an older man in a “Joshua Tree” shirt.

“Howdy, if you’re lookin for the line-”

“I’m here about the assistant job.”

“Uhh, o-kay. Not the best time for it, but follow me.”

The man leads him down a set of stairs to a kitchen that is half in and half out of the water in a way that defies logic and physics. Swimming about are several sirens, plus two humans on the shore, cooking and sending food up to the main building in a dance that borders on chaos. In the middle of it all is a siren with a deep copper tail that matches his short beard and long hair tied back in a bun.

“Barclay! You got a minute?”

“Not really!”

“Okay then. I’ll just have this fella wait in your office until dinner rush is over.”

“Sure great yeah Moira wheres the crawfish for table ten?”

Which is how Joseph finds himself sitting in a cabin, twiddling his thumbs. His manners fight his boredom until he pulls a paperback from the nearby shelf and loses himself in the exploits of a someone recreating dishes from ancient civilizations. Doesn’t look up until the door opens and the same man, now with legs instead of that beautiful tail, walks in.

“Phew” he shuts the door with a satisfied smile, rests his head on the wood, then whirls and slams his back against it when Joseph clears his throat.

“GAHWHATTHEFUCK”

“I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you heard, um, Thacker, tell you he was having me wait here.”

“W-wait here for wh--Oh, oh right, the assistant thing.” The siren scrubs his face, “yeah, uh, guess Mama must've put the ad out. Uh, would you say you’re organized?”

“Extremely. But honestly it doesn’t seem like you need that much help on that front.”

A deep, rich laugh, “I cleaned this morning, last night it looked like an earthquake hit this place. Guessing from the fact you didn’t freak out in the kitchen you’re cool with the supernatural?”

“Yes. It’s an area of interest for me.”

There’s suspicion in Barclay’s voice, hidden but very much present, “why’d you end up in Kepler?”

“I came here on purpose. I wanted to be somewhere where strange things were celebrated and out in the open. Not...not kept from the world.”

Barclay leans back on his desk, arms crossed, “Where’d you work before now?”

“The…” he sighs, resigns himself to finding somewhere else to go, “the FBI. UP branch, I was at Nellis when they, um, relieved me of my duties.”

For a long moment, Barclay studies him. Then he turns to his desk, setting stacks of papers in order as he hums. Joseph closes his eyes, takes calming breaths; all he wants is to be safe, to not have to run. All he wants is for Barclay to hold him, he’s never seen a man so handsome and a useless, primal part of him fixates on that fact. Also he’s starving, god, he hasn’t eaten since his breakfast of black coffee.

Barclay stops humming, “Come with me.”

Joseph follows him back down into the strange kitchen (“couple of friends of mine are pretty powerful magicians. They rigged up the kitchen for me”). All the lights are off, and without them he discovers Barclay’s eyes glow an eerie yellow-green. When he smiles, Joseph sees only the points on his teeth, not the crinkle at the edge of his eyes.

“Hungry?” Barclay rumbles.

“Starving.”

“You eat fish?”

“...Yes?” Will the wrong answer get him drowned.

The cook leaps towards the water, tail appearing and clothes vanishing at the last moment before he hits the dark surface. Joseph stands, on edge and curious, until the siren emerges, newly-dead trout in his hands.

“Tastes best fresh.” Barclay swims to his grill, turning it on in a click of a knob.

“Why not just stay human when you cook?” Joseph makes his way over to the station as Barclay butchers the fish and sets it into a heavily buttered pan.

“The charm only holds for so long before I need to be back in the water, and I get so busy during meals I don’t want to risk passing out because I went too long on shore. Besides” he spins elegantly to grab two spice jars, “I learned to cook in the water, so this is the most natural way for me.”

“Fascinating.” Joseph sits down, keeping himself out of arms reach of the water. Barclay seems nice, but sirens did not become famous for offering people things and then following through; hundreds of dead travelers prove that much.

“Where are you from?”

“Chicago, originally.”

“Ever see the great lake mers?”

“No.” He can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s only learning of their existence now.

“Quite a few out there. Sirens too.”

Well, that introduces some new reasons for all the shipwrecks.

“How do you know? Are you from there?”

“Nah. Been in Kepler my whole life. Even during the bad years, singing people into that godawful, overpriced casino buffet. Convincing them the shitty cold cuts were prime rib.” His hand stills a moment, clenches and then releases, “yeah. Every now and then” he starts chopping shallots, “one of the drunks would get it into their heads to pet the sirens tail or hair and I had to sit there and let them. My tail” he shudders, swipes the shallots into the pan so roughly Joseph starts.

“Sorry.” Barclay mumbles.

“Don’t be. I’m on edge, that’s all. And you have every right to be angry. Being forced to do something you know is wrong is....there’s no winning.”

“That why you just want a place to feel safe?”

It’s so easy to confess in the darkness of the cave.

“I put up too much of a fight about something. Refused to do something that went against my conscience. They let me go, which I feared but expected. Then I found my bank accounts were cut off and someone had manipulated the records to say I’d been fired for criminal activity so it’d be harder to find a job.”

A clink of metal on china, and then Barclay is holding a plate out to him with tenderness in his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Joseph. Here, at least you won’t be hungry.”

Joseph murmurs out his thanks.

“You a wine drinker?”

“Right now I could certainly go for some.”

A few flicks of that stunning tail and Barclay returns with a glass of white for each of them.

“To getting free of shitty pasts.” The cook raises his glass and Joseph bumps his against it. Barclay brings it to his lips, but smiles rather than sip, “and by the way: you got the job.”

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

Being Barclay’s assistant is fifty percent clerical work and fifty percent following the siren around as he gathers ingredients or tests recipes. On Ned Chicane’s recommendation, Barclay had published a cookbook of both traditional siren foods and his own creations. It became a bestseller which, among other things, means Joseph has a brand new wardrobe, regular deliveries of gourmet food, and his cabin is now full of books. Whenever he points out that Barclay is already paying him and doesn’t need to buy him things, the siren simply rubs their cheeks together (a thing Joseph is only now getting used to) and tells him he likes doing it.

So when he’s not getting his recipes in order or typing up scribbled note cards into something legible, he’s following Barclay on foot or in a boat while he harvests or buys ingredients. Sirens have permission to fish and forage in areas, including the park, that humans don’t, which means he runs into Duck and his siren husband, Indrid, on more than one occasion while hauling lines into the boat.

The one time it gets stuck, Barclay pulls it out all on his own. Almost like he’s showing off the muscles in his back, arms, and tail.

The only thing Joseph won’t do is get in the water with the siren. He can’t get the images of drowned sailors, of fishermen torn to shreds, from his mind. Barclay is powerful, sharp-toothed and slit-pupiled, dangerous yet so gentle he once purred when Joseph complimented his food. And if Joseph never goes in the water with him, he’ll never have to confront the fact he wouldn’t mind if those pointed teeth dug into his skin and that tail trapped his legs while he thrashed in Barclay’s hold.

He assumes Barclay doesn’t notice; after all, swamps and marshes, even the river, are far less suited to a human swimming in them than an ocean or lake. This conclusion is bolstered by Barclay never, ever asking him to join him in the water. The siren is less careful about singing; he usually just hums as he works, but sometimes he sings wordlessly and Joseph nearly dives head first into the water (Barclay’s lap, if they’re on land).

Tonight, he’s cleaning up after Barclay’s test session of new recipes in the kitchen. The cook went out to visit some friends who live further in the state park, so when his voice drifts across the stones Joseph is surprised.

Cool, calloused hands on his cheeks, a tail stroking his thighs, his lips tracing up a sturdy leg. Copper hair twined in his fingertips, a heart beating in time with his own, teeth sinking into his skin, marking him, claiming him.

Water fills his nose and his body jerks back to the present, standing up in the shallow water that he stepped and stumbled face-first into.

“Joseph? Oh fuck, are you okay?” Barclay rounds the corner, swimming over to look up at him with concern.

“Yes. I, um, I think I got caught up in your song.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were already upstairs or I wouldn’t have sung so loud. I know you can’t swim.”

“I can.” Joseph kneels, face down-turned in shame, “I was scared to, um, to be in the water with you. It’s, I was afraid of what might happen.”

Barlay swims back, “you thought I was gonna eat you?”

“No! Or, um, at first I didn’t want to foolishly assume that sirens in Kepler were harmless, since death isn’t high on my to-do list. Then I thought suddenly starting to swim would tip you off to the fact I’d been suspicious and I didn’t want to hurt you.” He runs a hand through his hair, “that song, though, Barclay, lord almighty is that what I want?”

“It’s what I want, I never sang it to bring you to me.”

“Oh.”

Barclay swims back to him, rubs their cheeks together, “Can I try something?”

“Anything” is all he gets out before he’s pulled into deeper water. He gasps for air, his own moans ricocheting across the room as Barclay bites his shoulder. On instinct his body tries to tread water, but copper scales trap his legs together, keep him flush against Barclay’s body.

“It’s okay babe, you can relax. I got you, I could keep us both afloat in my sleep.” He hums as he trails his lips across Joseph’s throat, “you’re safe. You’re with me.”

“Don’t make me leave.” The song pulls it out of him, because he wants to say it, wants to admit that losing what he has in Kepler terrifies him, just so he can hear-

“Never. You make me so fucking happy.” Barclay kisses him tenderly, keeps tracking his bite marks with a finger, “please stay. Stay for as long as you want."

"What if I want forever?" He rests his face on Barclay's shoulder as the siren spins them, dance-like, in the water.

"I think we can manage that."

[escapewriter]

Hey There Delilah

pairing : seungkwan x reader

synopsis : if only you got his address right, maybe he wouldn’t have been that salty.

genre : fluff, humor, slight angst

word count : 3.3k

warnings : none

posted : 01/16/21

a/n : IM SO SORRY THAT I HAVENT UPDATED THIS FOR A MONTH. BUT I GOT INSPO BECAUSE HIS BIRTHDAY WAS COMING UP SO HAPPY SEUNGKWAN DAY!!!!

TAGLIST : @vibecheckvernon @beomiebear5 @lightoflife @skylions-den @noniesgirl

won’t let me tag : @pandora1834

send me an ask/dm if you would like to be on the taglist

pieces of love masterlist // playlist // main masterlist

“Do you have to leave so soon?” Seunkwan pouted as he held your hand and rolled your luggage in the other. “I mean, you have time to stay a little longer.” He looked down at your intertwined fingers, slightly swinging it.

“You’re telling me this now? If you told me earlier, I could have gone later but I already got my ticket and we’re literally standing in the middle of the airport.” His mouth fell open as you giggled, releasing his hand to cup his face in your palms. “Don’t worry, Kwan, I’ll be back before you know it. And remember our deal, okay? Only letters.”

He sighed but repeated your words in a defeated tone, “Only letters.”

//

“Man, fuck these letters.” Seungkwan groaned in annoyance as he crumpled the 5th piece of paper into a ball and threw it into the trash bin. Jun looked up from his phone where he was seated on the couch, a concerned, yet amused, look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Can’t spell their name right?” Laughing at his own joke, he didn’t notice his friend swiftly turn in his chair to glare at him, shutting him up with a cough. He cleared his throat and nervously sat up straight, “Seriously, what’s wrong? Don’t know how to spell something or what?”

“No that's not the problem, and even if it was, I wouldn’t be asking you how to spell something.” Seungkwan turned back to his desk, resting his head on the wooden table. “I haven’t gotten a letter in a month. Do you think something’s wrong?” Jun hummed again, listening as he scrolled mindlessly on his phone.

“I don’t think you did anything wrong, they’re probably just busy. I mean, New York is a busy place and they gotta pay attention to some things, I guess.” Seungkwan turned around again, looking at the coffee table Jun had his feet propped up on.

“I don’t think I did anything wrong. I’m saying, maybe something is wrong.”

Jun looked up, eyes staring at Seungkwan’s furrowed eyebrows, “Wouldn’t their family tell you though? I honestly don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Just write the letter and ask them what’s wrong and if they don’t reply, then... there's your answer.”

“Aren’t you such great help.”

//

Seungkwan slammed the pen on the desk, finally finished writing the letter to you. He doesn’t really know why you stopped sending letters; it was usually a one to two week delay. Nevermind that, Seungkwan is sure that after you get this letter, you will definitely reply to him.

“Jun, can you read this for me? See if it sounds good?” He turned to the male who was eating on the small table, holding out the letter for him to take. Reaching over, Jun retrieved the letter from Seungkwan’s grasp, scanning the neat handwriting before reading:

Hey there,

How are you? Are the people treating you nice there?I sure hope they are because you’re too kind for this world. What’s it like living there so far? I’m sorry for all these questions, I’m just curious because ya know, it's New York City!

So… it’s been a while since I’ve gotten a letter from you, but maybe you’ve been busy. I mean, this internship, it’s a big deal so I wouldn’t want you to worry about sending letters all the time. Plus it probably keeps you occupied so don’t worry about anything, I’m just glad you’re happy doing what you love.

Anyway, uh, I heard back from Vernon. He said that he can show you around since he’s in town visiting with his mom. I don’t know if you’ll get this in time, but maybe he’ll contact you about it!

I really miss you. I know it was such terrible timing for me to have confessed. Just two weeks before you had to leave. Ah I wish I could’ve done it sooner. Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. Don’t overwork yourself and stay safe, okay?

Remember, time square could never shine as bright as you. I know it’s cheesy but I’ll always say it because that was my best pick up line ever. Okay, now get back to work! I’ll see you soon! I’m counting down the days!

From, Seungkwan

Jun put down his arm that was holding the letter and looked at Seungkwan who was munching away the food on his plate, “‘Time square could never shine as bright as you?’ MAN, and I thought Mingyu was the cheesy one in our group.”

Glaring at the elder, he snatched the letter from his hand, muttering something under his breath. “It’s from a song. An inside joke you wouldn’t understand.”

Jun took a sip of his soda, sighing as he set the can on a coaster, “Well, whatever it is, cross your fingers in hopes that they mail you back,” He stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans, “I’ll take my leave, gotta go cleanse my apartment.”

Seungkwan nodded, looking at the letter in his hands. Of all the things, it had to be letters.

//

“Seungkwan, get up.” He mumbled in his sleep, trying to shoo away the intruder that was waking him up. “Seungkwan, have you gotten mail from them yet?” He groaned again, not aware of his surroundings as he rolled over, arm hitting a hard surface beside him. “Man, you really are a pain. Anyway, I have a letter for you.” Seungkwan shot up, squinting at Jun who towered over him in his bed.

“You have a what for me? I’ve been waiting for almost three weeks for one, did one finally come in?” Jun’s eyes widened, not realizing sooner that he didn’t receive a letter from you.

“Oh, uh, you see, um, I was just… kidding.” Seungkwan narrowed his eyes before making a frown and crashing back head first into his pillows. “Seungkwan, come on man. The letter probably got lost in the mail or something. You never know.”

Sitting up, he stared at what’s ahead of him; a bookshelf. The shelf had various books, photo albums, picture frames, etc. Mainly, it had a picture of the two of you hanging out the day he finally confessed — just two weeks before you had to leave. He doesn’t remember that night, though he wished he did after staring at the photo for so long now.

“Seungkwan! What are you looking at?” Jun leaned over, trying to take a glance at what his friend was eyeing, though it appears it is something that won’t make him feel any better. “Okay, enough is enough. You helped me during my break up, so I’m gonna help you through this letter drought, okay? Okay. Now, up you go!” Jun lifted the man from his bed, dragging him to the middle of his bedroom before plopping him down on the rug. “You're not gonna help me out Seungkwan? Come on, please.”

“What if they met someone,” Jun thought for a moment, hoping what Seungkwan said didn’t turn out to be true. He had to stay positive and make sure his friend does too.

“Hey, don’t think like that, okay? Now get up and wash up, we’re going to get food.” Seungkwan sighed, finally deciding to listen to his friend.

//

“Jun, I know you meant to go out to get food, but I didn’t think that I would pay for it AND we eat it at my place.”

“It’s the thought that counts, and thank you for paying. The food? Muah.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes and put a piece of meat into his mouth, staring at the desk that was against the wall. He eyed the papers, pens, and pencils; a wave of sadness crashing over him. He couldn’t help but think that you actually had moved on. All the doubts he had in the beginning when you left resurfaced as he thought that maybe you just used him for those last two weeks you had spent with him. But why would you do something like that? It didn’t make any sense, but maybe Seungkwan doesn’t really know you.

“Hey, Seungkwan what’s the date today?”

“Not sure, why?”

Jun hummed, noticing that Seungkwan hasn’t been keeping track of the days recently, so he decided to keep this valuable information to himself, “No reason, just wasn’t sure.”

//

Seungkwan sat at his desk, thinking about how he should start the next letter to write. He used to write every week to you, but now he hasn’t written to you for over a month. He swirled the pen in his hand, attempting to gather words to form a sentence in his head. Finally, that imaginary lightbulb lit up, his eyes sparkling with ideas.

Hey there,

How’s New York City treating you? Have you taken care of yourself? Eating all your supplements?

Scratching his head, he scribbled on the paper and decided to use this as a rough draft and to rewrite it later.

How’s New York City treating you? Have you taken care of yourself? Eating all your supplements?

I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope you’re safe over there. It’s getting more and more difficult for me to go so long without seeing you and hearing your voice. I miss you.

He thought maybe it was too cheesy, or maybe he was so in love he couldn’t control it. Nope it was too cheesy.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope you’re safe over there. It’s getting more and more difficult for me to go so long without seeing you and hearing your voice. I miss you.

Taking a small sip of his coffee, Seungkwan closed his eyes, thinking about the situation he was in. He used to be so good at saying all the right words in his letters but now he couldn’t even find anything to say. He doesn’t even know if you're reading them or not. That hurt his pride a bit because of how much time and dedication he spent to write and think these out to send to you, only to not get a letter in almost two months. That’s the crazy thing about love; one would do anything for the person they love.

Snapping his eyes open, he checked the time only to find that it was no use because the clock was broken. The ticking of it irritated him and it always felt like it was getting slower and slower.

Focusing on the paper in front of him, he decided that if you weren’t going to send any letter, then he wasn’t going to either. It sounded like a great idea, but it was also bad at the same time. He didn’t know why, but he chose to ignore the bad part.

//

Jun could sense that Seungkwan was feeling a bit better than usual, but that's what freaked him out the most. Seungkwan hasn’t been this active ever since he got his first letter from you, so he guesses that his friend received a letter. Jun wanted to ask, but the fear of the thought not being true made him hesitate and not ask at all. He didn’t want to see his friend in despair again. After all, you are coming home in a few hours.

Seungkwan hasn’t felt like he has right now since a few months ago. It could be the weather, the feeling of the air, the food, anything. He just knows that today is a good day.

“Jun, what are we gonna do today? I’m feeling great so we should go out.” Jun pursed his lips as Seungkwan looked at his friend, waiting for an answer. Jun looked up in thought, but his mind just wandered back to his bed or the couch because he was feeling a lazy day.

“I don’t know, I’m not really in the mood to… go out.”

“Why? Are you feeling okay?” Seungkwan raised his hand to touch Jun’s forehead, only for Jun to smack it away.

“I feel fine, I’m just a bit lazy is all.” Jun thought to himself, thinking about how you’d for sure want to see Seungkwan and to talk to him about everything. Well, that's what he thinks and hopes. “Can we stay here for a bit and then head out?”

Plopping down next to him, Seungkwan turned on the TV, clicking through the channels before keeping it on one show. “Let me know when you want to leave.”

//

Seungkwan soon fell asleep on the couch, laying on his right side. Jun looked at him and then to the clock. He set a reminder on his phone before you left on when you would come back and what time.

It was currently 3:10pm and on his phone, it says you arrived at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. The airport is quite away and you probably are feeling tired after the plane ride, but Jun can’t help to look back every time he hears a car go by, hoping that it’s you to see Seungkwan.

He sighed, glancing at his sleeping friend before getting up and placing a blanket over him. He’s had it rough for the past couple of months, the thoughts of his brain eating him alive. Oh how he knew the feeling all too well.

Hearing a car door shut, Jun peeked outside, seeing you approach the house. Quickly and quietly, he opened the front door and closed it, meeting you halfway.

When you saw him, you immediately smiled, “Jun!” He raised his hand up to his lips, shushing you.

He began to whisper, “Where the hell have you been?” You eyed him weirdly, but shrugging as it was only Jun in front of you. “Do you know how much pain Seungkwan was in? He’s been waiting so long for you to reply.”

You were confused, “What do you mean? I was the one waiting for him to reply back to me. I came here to see what was wrong.” Jun sighed before signaling you to Seungkwan’s home.

“You go in. He’s asleep on the couch and will probably wake up hungry.” He gave you a soft pat on the head, “Glad to have you back, now I’m gonna go. Also, he’ll probably get mad, so don’t mention me.” You giggled before giving him a small hug.

“Thanks Jun.”

//

Seungkwan groaned, sitting up as he looked around the room, trying to spot Jun. Finding him nowhere, he sighed thinking about how he never went out. Turning to put his feet down, he lifted his arms to stretch, a yawn escaping past his lips. Mid yawn, he sees you at the doorway from the kitchen with a tray. He blinked a few times, not sure if you were really there or if it was just Jun. He rubbed his eyes as you came closer and set the tray onto the coffee table.

“About time you woke up, I’ve been here for an hour.” Seungkwan said nothing, his mind still thinking that this was all just a hallucination. He glazed over at the clock on the desk and saw that it was almost 4:30pm.

He heard you clear your throat, his mind now processing that you were indeed actually there with him in the same room. You began to walk around the small table, “I made your favorite soup,” Sitting down next to him, you looked into his wide eyes, “Why are you so surprised? I should be the surprised one here.”

Blinking a few times, he finally said your name. Lifting up his hand, he caressed your cheek lovingly as you smiled bitterly. But then he remembered how you never responded to him, and how you had the audacity to come into his home as if nothing was wrong.

He narrowed his eyes, taking his hand away from your face before standing up abruptly, “Why didn’t you mail me back?” Your eyebrows shot up and so did your legs, but wanting to one up him, you stood on the couch.

“I could ask you the same thing, Seungkwan! I haven’t received a single letter from you.” A shocked look flashed over his features as he looked up at you.

“What do you mean ‘haven’t received’ a single letter? I sent a few asking you why you didn’t respond. But what did I get? N. O. T. H. I. N. G.” You glared at him, not believing the words you were hearing. You sent so many letters with no information as to why he didn’t respond back to you.

“Really Seungkwan? You want to play victim?”

“Victim? I am the victim!” You scoffed, getting off the couch and walked around the table to put some distance between the two of you. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re accusing me of not responding when I did.” You rubbed your temples, pacing in front of him as you took small glances at his messy desk filled with crumpled papers. You walked over, picking up a ball and unfolded it, reading what he wrote before tossing it aside.

“I told you I wrote. And I did stop, I admit, but that was only because you never responded. I did write to you.” You looked at him, trying to think about what went wrong before an idea popped in your head.

“Seungkwan, what was the last letter you got from me?” He looked around his desk, scanning the messy area before pointing to the only neat pile. You picked up the letters, reading each date and word on the envelopes. However, you immediately knew what the mistake was.

You sighed and closed your eyes, biting your lower lip in frustration. Turning to Seungkwan who was sitting on the couch and eating the food you prepared, you debated if you wanted to hurt your pride by telling him what you did wrong.

He looked at where you were standing with the letters in your hands, as clear sadness in his eyes. You thought about the pain you may have caused him because of one stupid mistake. If only you got the address right.

“Okay Seungkwan, I know what happened, but hear me out.” His eyes narrowed, but he motioned you to continue, “So, when we write letters to each other, we put our address on it, right?” Nodding his head, he took a sip of the warm soup, “Well, the people I was working with moved me to a different department which relocated me to a different city which was far from my apartment.”

You watched his eyes, seeing the expression that tells you he knew nothing about it, “Yeah, you knew nothing because in the letter that I wrote to you, I put the wrong address. I put a 5 instead of a 6.” You looked down, too ashamed to face him and his hard eyes. Seungkwan was surprised, he didn’t know how to process the information, so all he did was laugh.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are.” You let out a soft laugh, hiding your face in the letters. “But I have a question still,” He tried to look at your face, but couldn’t see anything except your nodding, “If we wrote our address, why didn’t you just look at my old letters?”

Placing the letters on the table, you let out a loud groan, softly stomping over to the couch and sitting right next to him. Leaning against his shoulder, you sighed, “Like you said, I can’t believe how stupid I am.”

Seungkwan laughed, moving his arm to wrap around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, catching his familiar scent that you missed so much.

“Seungkwan?” He hummed, loving the feeling of having you in his arms again, “I’m sorry I got your address wrong.” He smiled, rubbing your back as a soothing gesture.

“I know. But just remember I’m never letting you live this down.”

[rose-lord-of-simps]

AO3 fics

This is a list of AO3 fics I find and need a place to save so I can read them later! I’d save them in a file on my phone but my phone hates me and quite frankly, I don’t blame it.

Note: I also take fic finding requests! I can’t help you find specific fics but if there is a ship here you aren’t interested in or don’t ship but you want a fic for, let me know what genre you want and the ship or x reader and I’ll find it for you! Genres include fluff, romantic, spicy, angst!

Some of the descriptions are the actual descriptions from the fics, however some are just notes I made about them myself. NONE OF THESE ARE MINE AND I AM NOT TAKING CREDIT FOR THEM!

This is mostly just for me but I figured I’d post it so I can create a link for it on my page instead of going through my drafts to look for it.

Guide: ☘️ not completed 🍀 completed ❌ not read ✔️ read 🌶 spicy 🌹 romance 🌵angst 🌼 fluff

If you think an emoji on a fic should be changed, just let me know! I DID NOT PUT ANY TRIGGER WARNING IN THE DESCRIPTIONS! If I think there is something trigger or know there is I will tell you to read the tags and notes but if you read one of these with a mislabeled emojis or you think a 🌵 should be added, please let me know.

On the last day of every month I go through and update the info of if it is completed and how many chapters there are. Because of this some of the info may be wrong as you read this post.

Solangelo

A World Alone

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

10 chapters and part of a Series

🌼🌹 Nico was ready to propose - now he just needed to figure out how. He convinces Will to celebrate Hanukkah for the first time in years. The problem is, Nico doesn't know anything about Hanukkah.

The Ballad of Landon Creek

Completed ☘️ Read not all the way

22/32 updated 2021-03-05 left off on 16

🌵🌹🌼Doctor Will Solace had lived in the secluded Oregon town of Ladon Creek for a year when a mysterious stranger arrived and turned his world upside down.

PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS AND NOTES!

Kiribaku

A series of coincidental meetings

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

3 chapters - left off on 3

🌼 Exactly what the title says

Coat/Jacket

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter but part of a series!

🌼 Eijirou wakes up cold, alone, and worried. What hidden truths will he find when he seeks out his boyfriend?

Axis

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter but part of a series!

🌵 Ochako recieves a letter from Bakugo she never wanted.

Not Kiribaku centered but includes Kiribaku

And your name for the order is

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌼 Coffee shop AU where Kirishima is the only one who enjoys taking Bakugo’s order

Tell me the truth (even if it hurts)

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

3 chapters - left off on 3

🌵 little not much 🌹/🌼 Kirishima gets hit with a truth quirk but he isn’t the one telling the truth

Tell me Whatever

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter

🌼 mostly, Bakugo gets hit with a quirk and it becomes impossible to be lied to, and Kirishima is so very open

Bien Cuit

Completed ☘️ Read ❌

7/10 updated on 2021-02-12 left off on 1?

🌼🌹 “It’s the best cafe in town! You gotta try it!!” Kirishima exclaimed. “What’s the worse that can happen?” Kirishima asked. Bakugou should have fucking known better than to trust that Shitty Hair for a simple coffee recommendation.

Or : Bakugou Katsuki accidentally ends up in a cafe meet-cute with Deku’s former number one ride-or-die, Uraraka Ochako, and they catch feelings.

Fireflies

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌵🌹 romance and angst, soulmate AU!

Dis-ease

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

2 Chapters and part of a series left off on chapter 1

🌼Kirishima is sick and Bakugo takes care of him

I Missed You

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 Chapter

🌼 After a long mission, Bakugou and Kirishima talk on their couch, some sweet things are said, and their friends walk in on them making out.

5 Times Bakugou Katsuki was soft for Kirishima Eijirou and the 1 Time Everyone Found Out

Completed ☘️ Read not done yet

2/6 Chapters updated on 2021-01-19 left off on 2

🌼 Sunflowers, daisies, and a discussion about bubbles.

Light it up like dynamight

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter

🌼 Kirishima had a mission: to discover Bakugou’s favourite band. After all, he had a Christmas gift to buy.

Or, alternatively, in which best bros Kirishima and Bakugou go to a concert and they end the day being more than bros.

Valentine- a Kiribaku fluffshot

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 Chapter

🌹🌼 Happy valentine's day! Well, it's not not so happy for Katsuki, who's finally decided to confess to Eijirou. Much due to Mina's pushiness, he decided to confess through cliched Valentine's chocolates. Although he's nervous and doubtful, a good deal of hope sits buried in Katsuki's chest. But what will happen when the Bakusquad hangs out on Valentine's Day and someone notices the chocolates?

We don’t have to be ordinary

Completed 🍀 Read unfinished

8/8 chapters left off on 5

🌵🌹🌼 A Footloose AU that nobody asked for, but I'm certainly providing.

Sounds a little strange for someone who’s never watched footloose- BUT IT’S SO GOOD I PROMISE!

Gotta KiriBaku Them All

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

Eijiro Kirishima is a eighteen year old rock trainer in a world full of Pokemon. His childhood best friend Denki Kaminari travels with him to different regions. One fateful day they decide to enlist in a charity tournament at Lumiose City in Kalos. Who will they meet and what challenges will they face? Follow the boys as they make new friends and battle their way through the competition!

Im unsure how to emoji label this one so please read the tags and notes!

Bakugou and his Journal

Completed ☘️ Read not finished

1/2 chapters updated 2021-02-07

🌼🌵? (Unsure how to emoji label this) Bakugou’s journal.

Shinkami

Clashing Colors

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

3 chapters

🌼One month into classes at UA and shinso is being transferred into class 1-A, a small problem being that kaminari has started to have feelings for him and just to his luck, kaminari has been chosen to help shinso move into his new dorm.

(Obviously) They’re Married

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

6 chapters

🌹🌼mostly, Where Kaminari meets Shinso’s dads. But he doesn’t know who they are. Erasermic family!

5 + 1 Things : Kamishin

Completed 🍀 Read ?

1 Chapter

🌼🌵 5 times Kaminari was too loud for Shinso, 1 time he was too quite. Warning: language and brief mention of homophobia

Let me Scream

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌵🌼 Mina made Hitoshi drop an extremely personal note before reading it out loud with Denki present. Denki got mad at Hitoshi for the first time. A while later, he angrily opens up and tells Hitoshi why.

Or Hitoshi and Denki have their first argument as a couple.

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

🌼Kaminari and Shinsou spend their first Christmas together. Shinsou's never really celebrated Christmas and Kaminari is determined to give him a real Christmas

Catch Me

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

5 Chapters

🌼(but read the tags!) Shinsou and Kaminari meet by chance their first year of high school and spend one whirlwind day together that changes the trajectory of their entire lives. Three years later, after maintaining a long distance friendship, they are roommates, nearly through their first year at the University of Osaka. They are forever on the edge of something beyond friendship, but never quite able to take the leap of faith for fear of tainting their memories of that one, perfect day. That is, until Kaminari gets blackout drunk in a night of frustration and Shinsou won't let it go.

Pizza n Fries

Completed ☘️ Read not finished

3/? Chapters updated 2021-03-10 left off on 2

🌼 So here Kaminari sits, the most popular boy in school, alone, idly poking at his school lunch,, pizza. How the school managed to screw up pizza was beyond him, but at the same time he was once given a single slice of soggy bread for lunch. Just as he was about to get up to throw his plate in the trash, it's entire existence disgusted him, a deep voice sounded in, "school lunches am I right?"

We’ll Hold You When the Sky Falls Down

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 Chapter

🌹🌼This is a Kaminari x Jirou x Shinsou fic! Soulmate AU where you can write on your arm and it appears on your partner’s arm!

Denki Who is Not His Boyfriend

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌹🌶(a little bit) PLEASE READ THE RAGS OF THIS ONE AND THE NOTES

Kaminari Denki’s Very Strange Day

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌼 All hail Denki Kaminari, newly initiated drinker of respect women juice, matchmaker extraordinaire. Alternately, Shinsou Hitoshi simultaneously has the worst and best day of his life.

Tododeku

How did I not Know?

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌵 Aizawa is concerned when Todoroki starts to fall behind in class but dismissed it as the boy needing a break and that he would be fine when he came back to the dorms after a weekend of being at home. He never would've thought how wrong he was and how one weekend would reveal a lifetime of secrets about the Todoroki household. Though he just wished that the two teens would have been spared from the crossfire that is Endeavor.

Not Tododeku centric but they’re together

The Prince and the Painter

Completed ☘️ Read ❌

1/? Chapters updated 2021-01-30

🌵🌹🌼 Prince Shoto Todoroki is next in line for the Alterian throne. His father rules the Kingdom with an iron fist, giving Shoto no choice but to obey his every order. He is overworked, depressed, and utterly miserable. That is until he meets Izuku Midoriya, an avant-garde painter who starts to bring the color back into his dull life. But what happens when they start to fall in love with each other? Shoto is a Prince, and Izuku is just a painter, surely this cannot end well!

(Basically a royal AU! Lots of angst, family drama, and of course fluffy love. Enjoy!)

Of Flowers and Tattoos

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter and part of a series!

Shouto owns a tattoo parlor. Izuku owns a flower shop. Love (unsurprisingly) happens.

Property Of Prince Shotou Todoroki

Completed 🍀 Read not finished

9 chapters left off on 4

🌵🌹🌶little bit of Bakugou x Midoriya, prince Todoroki x peasant Deku AU! PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND NOTES!

Lady in Red

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter

🌼 Izuku’s mother refuses to tell him who her Valentine’s date is. Tododeku isn’t the main ship but it’s still included so it’s going here.

Something That I Want

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌹🌼🌵(lightly) TANGLED AU ITS SO GOOD OH MY GOSH-

The Cupid Quirk

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

23/23 chapters updated 2021-04-08

🌹🌼 During an attack at school, Midoriya gets hit by a quirk that leaves him infatuated with the first person he sees, which just so happens to be Todoroki Shouto. Due to an unfortunate side effect of the quirk, Midoriya breaks out into a horrible fever whenever they’re separated for too long, so Todoroki accepts the responsibility of caring for him until the quirk wears off. Problem is, Todoroki sort of, kind of, maybe likes Midoriya as more than just a friend, which makes the whole situation just a little awkward for him.

THIS IS AN AMAZING FIC AND I LOVE IT. You’re not gonna regret this read.

Erasermic

So They Follow in Our Footsteps

Completed ☘️ Read ❌

1/2 chapters 2021-01-22 part of a series!

🌵🌼 Eventually, Aizawa thinks, he’s going to figure Shinsou out. He’s gonna figure out what it means to tote around a kid through the zombie apocalypse like a Chanel bag, and what it means to get truly, murderously pissed when they’re threatened.

Zombie apocalypse AU! So- Apocolypse AU’s aren’t my thing so I don’t know why I have this one saved and I’m probably not going to read it, however I found a link for it on tumblr in the Erasermic tag so that’s where it’s going! ALSO READ THE NOTES OF THE CHAPTER!

Miritama

Glowing

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter and part of a series

🌼 Kirishima asks Tamaki about Mirio.

Of Octopus Balls and Contract Flaws

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 Chapter

🌼 Tamaki really had to be careful about what he said out loud sometimes, or else a simple frustrated phrase such as "I would sell my soul for some decent takoyaki" could easily be taking out of context.

Purple Haze

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter and part of a series!

🌹🌼Tamaki wants to know Mirio’s colour. “What’s your color? I wanna know, I wanna know.”

Burst of Sunlight

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

🌹🌼🌵(possibly) In the aftermath of the Shie Hassaikai raid, Tamaki looks after Mirio. One-shot. Soft Miritama

Summertime:Miritama

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

🌼 Amajiki Tamaki had always preferred the winter, until Mirio came along. Tamaki tells the story of him and Mirio by following their memories through the course of many summers.

Grossly Incandescent

Complete 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter

Mirio thinks, perhaps, his journey to find his own sun has found just the right path. Tamaki just do what he's supposed to and ring the bell. Their paths may just merge into one. OR Mirio knows incandescence when he sees it, but it's a bit harder to prove that to Tamaki if he's just going to hide under his hood all day!

Star Spots

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

🌹🌼 mirio looks so sad, beneath the surface, and tamaki wants to say something, but doesn't know what's best for his best friend. what do you do, what do you say, when your best friend lost something so important to them? or, a series of scenes where tamaki and mirio spend their time in each others company, make confessions, and make it through to the other side.

Moments of Peace

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter and part of a series

🌹🌼Mirio wakes up way too early, and he takes a moment to appreciate the love of his life

The “Almost” Perfect Nest

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌹🌼Omega Tamaki likes to take comfort in the nests he creates to have Mirio's alpha scent around. He finds blankets and clothes that smell likes Mirio and throws them all into one big pile. So what happens the day he can't find a specific hoodie that belongs to Mirio? He loses it.

Love Confessions are Hard for Idiots

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌹🌼Mirio wants to confess.

Todoroki x Kaminari

Denki’s Life Essentials:Memes, food, and Shouto

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

Denki tries to explain what memes are to Shouto and accidentally falls in love.

Hawks x Reader

Amans Avaritia

Completed ☘️ Read not all the way

3/? Chapters updated on 2021-01-05 left off on chapter 3

🌵🌹When the Prince of the feathered-folk Kingdom, Hawks, threatens to declare war on your kingdom, you’re forced to make the worst and best decision of your life.

Let’s Chase the Sun

Completed ☘️ Read ❌

19/? Updated on 2021-02-22

(I unsure what emojis to use) Your whole life you had been sheltered away from the real world, but you weren’t exactly alone in that aspect. You just had less freedom than him. Now, however, you would take him as a chance to live life the way you wanted to. Who cares about the consequences after all? Life isn’t easy, though, and that’s something you’ll have to learn, even with a capable hero at your side. Because to be honest, being with him is the biggest problem of all.

Im unsure what emojis to use so PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS and the NOTES in the first chapter!

Writers

Born Dead

MHA ship writer, mostly Kiribaku I believe

Multi-Ship

Totally Definetly Legit Leaked BNHA Valentine’s Day Light Novel Spoilers

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌼 I honestly have no idea how to describe this, some Momo x Todoroki, and Kiribaku

If you don’t take this friendship, I will shove it up your ass

Completed ☘️ Read not finished

3/? Chapters updated 2021-01-31 left off on 2

🌼crack fic, no one ship specific, super funny!

The Todoroki In-Laws

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

13/13 COMPLETED and part of a series!

🌼crack fic Over 10 years after the fight against the Paranormal Liberation Front, Rumi, aka the part-time hero Miruko and the proud wife of one Todoroki Fuyumi, decides it would be an awesome idea to create a groupchat with the significant others of the other Todoroki siblings. Maybe things would be easier if its members weren’t two Pro Heroes, a former one and a rehabilitated villain, but… Honestly, where’s the fun in that?

Part 2 coming soon... there’s more...

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. III || JJ Maybanks x Reader

Words: 2336

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: Underage drinking / fighting / gun

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: Y/N is introduced to keggers and high speed boat chases in John B’s quest for treasure.

A/N: Okay so i’ve got like half of this series drafted, so updates shouldn’t be toooooooo slow. let me know if u wanna be tagged!!

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

A kegger was both exactly what you thought it would be. It was full of booze, bad dancing and bad flirting, which was just about the only thing all teenagers had in common. You were laughing at something Pope was saying (some joke about dead bodies farting?) when Kiara interrupted you.

“What the hell is she doing here?” she nodded towards Sarah, who was sat on a tower, while Topper dried to persuade her to get down.

“Sarah?” you asked, thinking of how the two of you had been hanging out everyday until you met the pogues. “What’s wrong with Sarah?”

Before Kiara could respond, JJ shushed her, explaining that something had gone on between the two, and therefore never to ask in front of Kiara, earning him a middle finger.

You looked between the two girls, frustrated that your only two girl friends on the island hated each other. Kie wandered off, muttering about ‘pretentious kooks’, leaving JJ to ask you what was wrong.

“Sarah was my first friend here, we were hanging out like, every day until I met you guys. Just my luck that Kie hates her, right?” You sighed, leaning backwards onto him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist. “I get that y’all hate the kooks, I mean I don’t get on with rich people either, but Sarah was really nice to me, and she was fun. Why can’t her and Kie get on?”

JJ sighed, kissing your temple, “C’mon, let’s just go get wasted.”

You followed through with that plan. You and JJ must have had three blunts between you, and way too much alcohol. 

At some point, you left JJ’s side and ended up sitting down with Kie, talking about him.

“What the hell is going on with you and JJ?”

“Nothing.” 

“C’mon Y/N, you know that’s bullshit.”

“Look, Jay stays at my house every few days, and we’re close, that’s it.”

“Jay? He never lets anyone call him Jay. Y/N, the only reason he stays at John B’s is because they’ve been friends since 3rd Grade. He doesn’t sleep around people’s houses or invite them out with us unless he’s fully invested in the relationship, and that takes a lot with him. You can’t pretend there’s nothing there!”

“Okay…” you sighed, “yeah like, he keeps on pulling shit, and, like, making me think he likes me, but he hasn’t kissed me or anything! I mean, how do I take that?”

“He’s scared of fucking up. Look, he’s been through shit, him and his dad don’t get on, and he’s seen so many broken relationships, he wants to get it right with you.”

“Ya think?” you smiled to yourself.

“Hell yeah!” she laughed, “He’s batshit crazy over you!”

You grinned. “I don’t know man, and my dad’s like super anti-boys right now, and I’m scared this is all gonna go to shit, you know? Like, I got shit goin’ on at home,” she nodded, “like, my dad’s job is barely paying the bills and we gotta pay moving fees and shit as well, I’m gonna have to find a job so we don’t go under.”

“Hey, my dad’s always short on waiters at the Wreck, I’ll ask him to add you to the rotor.”

“Kie, you’re a lifesaver!”

You hadn’t been paying attention to your surroundings, and it was only when a crowd started gathering that you got up to investigate, pulling Kie with you.

You fought your way to JJ’s side, watching as Topper dunked John B under the waves. You went to intervene, but JJ pulled you back, muttering something like “I got this.”

Next thing you knew, there was a gun to Topper’s head.

People were screaming, JJ was saying something to Topper, but all you could focus on was how much of an impulsive idiot that boy was. You felt numb, only reacting properly when he fired shots into the air. One, two. 

You pulled the gun off him, not caring where it landed, and pounded into his chest, screaming at him for being an idiot, for being impulsive, for not thinking. He started to argue, but seeing the tears streaming down your face and how worked up you were, he pulled you in, cradling your head and shushing you, murmuring apology after apology. You stood there, consumed in his scent, as he held you.

At some point, when the beach was near empty, he pulled away, and you walked slowly, hand in hand, until you reached your house. “Wanna stay over?” you offered. He nodded, quiet, almost in shock, about what he’d done. You unlocked the door, pulled off your shoes, and crept up the stairs.

--

“Does anybody know how to dive?” Kiara asked, looking around. “Anybody?”

“It’s kind of a kook sport.” JJ pointed out.

“I read about it.” offered Pope, and you shook your head, exasperated.

“Great,” you mocked, “Pope read about it, so someone’s gonna die.”

“Look you put the thing in your mouth and breathe,” JJ motioned, “how hard could it be?”

“Well if you come up too fast nitrogen gets in your blood and you get the bends.” Pope said. 

“I watched some David Attenborough documentary in 5th Grade about fishers in, like, Malaysia getting the bends.” You added, “It was weird.”

“Bends,” JJ said, “Like bend over and-” he was giving you a full view of his ass.

“The bends kill you.” you clarified.

“Right.”

“I’ll dive.” you offered.

“Since when can you dive?” Kie asked.

“I don’t know, since I watched a documentary in 5th Grade?” you sighed.

“Y/N,” JJ shook his head, “You’re not diving.”

You glared at him, but didn’t fight.

“I’ll dive.” John B offered.

“I’m cool with that.” JJ shrugged.

Pope explained to John B where and when he needed to stop, so you pulled your top off and dived into the water to mark the spot.

Upon your entry, Kie asked “What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” JJ raised his eyebrows, “But I liked it. A lot.” 

Kie smacked his leg, and he laughed, watching your entry spot.

“When you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold,” JJ held up the little stick, “You stick this thing inside and you twist and pull.”

“Stick in, twist, pull.” John B affirmed.

You surfaced, swimming back to the boat, the boys looking over as JJ helped you out of  the water. “I tied my t-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down so you know where to stop.”

John B nodded, pulling the gear on and getting ready to dive. You watched as Kie kissed John B’s cheek before he went down, and you nudged her as she walked back. You gave her a questioning look and she shrugged, a bashful look adorning her.

“If you don’t ask, I won’t ask about you and JJ.” she bargained, and you watched as JJ’s head popped up at the sound of his name.

“There’s nothing to ask about.” you smirked. “Hey.” you nodded to the approaching boat, “Isn’t that the police? Let me do the talking.” 

You walked to JJ and Pope, JJ wrapping his arm around your shoulders in an attempt to be chill. Pope tied the boats together.

“Evening, Officer.” You greeted, Time for a light flirt, just enough to make him like you.

“Do I know you?” Shoupe asked you.

“Nah,” you shook your head, crossing your arms so your boobs pushed together slightly. “Just moved from LA, two weeks ago.”

“Well how are you kids doing? You know the marsh is closed?” 

“It is?” you asked, feigning innocence. Small bash of the eyelashes. “Why?”

“Conducting a search, a boat went down. See anything?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’, “We’ll let ya know if we do.”

“Where’s your friend that you always hang with? Is he here?”

“Working.” you explained, smiling happily up at him.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out.” he stood up.

“Sure,” you cleared the way, ignoring the way JJ was watching you interact with the officer.

He picked up a life jacket, “Y’all got another one of these?”

“‘Course,” you shrugged, “in the hold, Show ‘im.” you beckoned to JJ, who obliged, opening up the hold.

“A’ight.” Shoupe nodded, standing on the edge of the boat, looking down to where John B was due to appear. You all shared a glance. “A’ight.” 

“We’ll let ya know if we see anythin’, Officer.” you smiled again. “And we’ll be on our way out soon, Sir.”

“Yes, you will.” the boat pulled away.

As soon as the boat was gone, you all leaned over the side.

“He’s definitely out of air.” Pope reminded you all.

As if summoned, he broke the surface, and the four of you made a collective sigh of relief.

“How’d it go down there?” JJ asked. “Find anything?”

“Did I find anything?” John B laughed, pulling out a duffel bag as he hoisted himself out.

“There we go!” JJ grinned, taking the bag, “that’s my boy!”

“You okay?” Kie asked.

“I ran out of air.” John B said. Pulling himself into the boat.

“Yeah the cops were up here but, uh, turns out Y/N knows how to lie pretty fuckin’ well.” Pope explained.

“Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother.” JJ agreed, winking at you. 

“Jeez, chill,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s just practice.” JJ raised an eyebrow.

“Hey guys,” Kie called, “Guys, bogey, two o’clock.”

You looked up, “Y’all recognise that boat?”

“Never seen it.” Kie looked back at you. “What are they doing back here? The marsh is closed.”

“I don’t know, but let’s not stick around to find out.” JJ reasoned.

“Should we wait on them?”

“No, we’re not gonna wait on them!”

JJ pulled in the anchor, yelling not to wait for him, and John B began to steer away, everyone talking at once.

“Are they coming for us?

“Maybe they’re fishing.”

“Go, go, go, go!”

“Into the marsh!”

“Let’s go!”

“I’m going, act natural.”

You watched as the boat followed you into the marsh.

“They’re following.” You pointed out. “JB, hurry the fuck up.” 

“I am!” came the response.

The boat sped up. “Dude is that a fucking gun?” you shouted, and suddenly JJ was on top of you, pulling you down as a gunshot fired.

“Shit! John B, get down!”

“Oh my God we’re gonna die!”

You rolled out from under JJ, ignoring his efforts to grab you, taking a rope and net off Kie. You stood up, ignoring the shouts from your friends as you worked your way past John B to the sturn and threw the rope and net out, behind the boat, stopping the boat behind you. Breathing out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling JJ grab you, checking for blood before crushing you in a hug.

He didn’t break contact until you were on solid ground, standing around the bag, waiting for John B to open the bag. 

“Can you please just open the bag?” Pope yelled.

“Jeez, Pope, that was a rare outburst of emotion.” JJ mocked.

“Okay, you guys are literally killing me with anticipation.” he groaned. “Just open the bag. We almost died over this.”

You all watched intently as John B pulled a bag from the bag, and then a waterproof container from that bag, and finally a compass from that. Disappointed, you stepped back.

“Oh wow,” You snarked, “Yup, that’s about right. Good job, everybody, we found a compass.” You noticed how John B kept staring at the compass, and sighed. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything.”

“This was my father’s.” he murmured. 

Now, perhaps it was the fact that you hadn’t spent the last nine months dealing with the fact that John B’s father was missing, but you felt out of place amongst your friends’ reactions.

--

You settled into the sand, arm touching JJ’s, and feet thrown out below you. 

“Something about hanging out with you and your friends seems to be getting me in trouble.” you sighed, not noticing the way he gazed at you, adoration painted onto his features.

“Blame JB.” he reasoned.

“You say that like you’re not the biggest trouble-maker in that group.” you giggle, and he smirked.

“Nah, I don’t know what you’re on about, man.” he smirked.

“Jay, did you just call me ‘man’?” you laughed.

“Maybe.” he looks at you again, watching you laugh. You roll your head to look at him, your nose millimetres away from his. In the dark, the only details he can make out are your out line and the glitter in your eyes, shining with glee. 

You take each other in, basking in the moment, John B’s drama and your thoughts and fears dissipating, however momentarily. He reached up, slowly, and took a strand of hair, tucking it loosely behind your ear. He watches how your silhouette moves, and he can picture your blush. You blink, the shine of your eyes disappearing for a split second. He watches you turn your face back to the sky, pointing up. 

“That’s Cassiopeia.” you point out the ‘W’ shape in the sky.

“I’ve heard of that.” JJ murmurs, feeling your body shake with laughter beside him.

“The vain queen.” you sighed. “She boasted of her beauty, and in his anger, the God Poseidon condemned her kingdom to attacks by, like, water nymphs or something? To end the attacks, she sacrificed her daughter, Andromeda, who was saved by the God Perseus. They married, and at their wedding, one of Andromeda’s suitors tried to claim her back, but was turned to stone by the head of Medusa, which Perseus used to kill the suitor. Cassiopeia and King Cepheus didn’t close their eyes, so in light of their death, they were made to hang in the sky.” 

“How the hell do you know that?” JJ chuckled, and you laughed.

“I don’t even know.” you smiled. “And that’s the Big Dipper, or Ursa Major. And that one there is Orion.” You looked back at JJ, “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @lolitstiana​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @teamnick​

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER THREE: A GOOD SCARY STORY

SUMMARY: With teases and friendly banter, Lynn can’t help but fall under Mr. Hiddleston’s charming spell. WORD COUNT: 2.1k NOTES: Thank you to everyone reading! Dark!fics get a lot of criticism and though the story has not turned into one ((yet)), I’m very humbled by all the likes and reblogs :) WARNINGS:  dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

"I'M NOT ONE FOR COMPLAINING," I pant– while simultaneously lying with a straight face�� dragging my feet up another flight. "But can I ask which floor your room is on?"

Only a step ahead of my slow pace, the male teacher smirks. "Not fond of stairs?"

I shrug. "Not really fond of anything involving exercise."

"I would agree," he glances back, a grin marking his face. He makes a huff, more than likely on my same page, but perhaps better off. He appears to be fit so I'm doubting three flights of stairs is killing him like it's slaughtering me. "But, a morning run isn't the worst way to start the day."

My nose wrinkles. "So you're one of those guys? Gotta make those gains, hm?" I'm not sure where my overly confident attitude is coming from. It's not like me to make comments like these to my teachers, Mrs. Gibbons being the exception but even then I am reserved. Something about being close to Mr. Hiddleston has completely altered my professionalism around people of a higher authority. Hopefully it doesn't last long and I don't run into the principle any time soon.

Finally, after what seemed like climbing Mount Doom, we reach the last step. Pausing, Mr. Hiddleston looks down to me. "You've got quite the nerve talking to your superior like a classmate."

It's obvious he's teasing, so I go along. "My superior? What, because you're a hundred thousand dollars in debt thanks to a fancy piece of paper and you've got a couple more decades on your shoulders?"

"'A couple decades?'" He repeats, quite amused.

I shrug with sass coating my entire being. "Give or take. What are you, forty? Nearing fifty?"

His gives a chuckle. "Try thirty-three."

"Really?" I ask doing a small run down while he looks away. I don't find myself in the company of thirty-somethings all that often but I can't lie; he's looking really good, especially from the backside. Mr. Hiddleston hums, and I'm not sure if that was a positive or negative sound. "You sure? Because I could have sworn I saw some grays up there."

"Oh, ha ha, you're so clever," he mocks, voice suddenly raising just a couple octaves. It causes me to jump but I giggle, feeling a strange girly feeling arise from my stomach. All I can do is tell myself not to throw up from nerves, over and over in my head.

Feeling just as confident, I reply with a whisper. "Shh! There are classes in session! You're going to get detention!"

He shakes his head. Mr. Hiddleston attempts to be serious but there's humor and teases filled between each word. "Funny you mention that: I happen to be the teacher in change of detention this week. And don't think I won't put you there because you're helping me: any other teacher would have landed you a weeks worth just from your comment on my age."

My eyes roll. "As if. You're too nice."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive," I reply, a smirk hanging on my lips.

He looks down, given my lack of height, and I move my face towards him comically. There's a smirk playing on his thin lips, the corners desperately trying to form a smile. Eye contact remains steady, but I see it more as a funny, friendly game of domination. A moment passes before he looks away, a small sigh parting his lips. "We'll see about that," Mr. Hiddleston retorts, causing me to chuckle.

From his belt, he wears one of those mini extendable cables that can hold all sorts of keys and chains. I'm honestly not quite sure what they're called. Fumbling with the keys, Mr. Hiddleston flips through several before find the the right one and pulling it towards the door, a thin wire keeping a hold on the instrument. When I was much younger, my mother would wear one clipped to the pocket of her scrubs, but hers was smaller, only allowing another clip for her RN tag. Each night consisted of me as a toddler pulling on the name tag and watching the cord return to the circular piece of plastic, unable to see the thin cable coil within. The small piece of nostalgia sets a comforting warmth in my chest.

Despite the insignificant memory, I snicker at his device. The sight of such a young and handsome man keeping his keys together with such an instrument is dorky, and definitely cute.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he sighs, flipping the fluorescent lights on. I follow him in while getting a look around his classroom.

It's relatively simple and mundane, surprisingly enough. Not like I was expecting red velvet walls or a jacuzzi, but maybe something with a bit more personality. The walls are neatly littered with the typical English teacher posters, from "Best Shakespeare Quotes" to the differences between "to," "too," and "two." There's a blank white board in front of rows of desks and a projection screen pulled down over it. Across the room are a few book shelves consisting of dictionaries, thesauruses, and books worth reading. From the distance I can easily spot several of my own favorite books, instantly earring couple brownie points from me.

I follow Mr. Hiddleston who takes a left, as a wall with a pencil sharpener blocks the right. We walk parallel to a wall which is entirely ceiling high cabinets, all closed to the curious eye. His desk sits catty corner and is much like his classroom: mess free and boring. I consider making a comment but stop myself when I notice a few photos on the filing cabinet. One is him with a graduation cap and gown, his hands bearing a diploma. The next looks like a guys night out with Mr. Hiddleston wearing a (distractingly tight) black shirt and two other men accompanying him. And last, and the one that is set before the others, is a picture of the teacher with an older woman. I can only assume it's his mother. This causes a heart warmed smile to etch across my face. It's always lovely and precious to see older men respecting and appreciating their mothers. My own tells me "mama's boys" are the worst type of man to date because in her mind, they are still children who cling to their mothers for support, emotion and financially. I have to remind her that it's not the case for every man, just for the guy she chose to marry.

"Please, set the books wherever you like." My random tangent gets interrupted by a voice, causing me to jump six feet. Mr. Hiddleston places his stack of books on his desk. I would follow suit but looking at the small space, I decide to give his personal bubble some room and I move to the nearest student desk.

Brushing my hands over my black jeans, I turn around. While the teacher shuffled through stacks of papers, I awkwardly and silently stand close to his desk. Only a few second pass do I actually realize my situation: me with the hottest teacher, all alone. I can only imagine all the jealous teenagers clawing at this chance. However, I have a job downstairs waiting for me. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Hiddleston?"

His eyes quickly shoot up. "Oh, uh no. No, thank you." Mr. Hiddleston pauses a moment to set his papers down. "I'm sorry for keeping you. I was looking to see what hour of the day I have you, but it appears there isn't one."

My eyebrows knit together at his comment. "Well, you'd have to look for a "Carolyn" if that were the case." I pause for a moment, confusion riddling my face. "Wait, whaddya mean?" Almost instantly, I'm repulsed by my southern slang, despite myself not having any drawl to my words. My voice is basically that of an incoherent cave woman compared to his smooth, charming accent. Aside from this, I feel myself floating; he's looking for a time to see me again. I have to contain a girlish squeal just as reality sets in. He's probably just curious if he actually has me or is considering making a "see you at this time" comment. Nonetheless, my heart skips a beat or two.

"Most seniors take my course as their final English requirement. Are you not a senior?"

I feel myself dimming at his comment. Unfortunately, it would appear reality strikes again. But it was honestly quite ridiculous for me to even consider the reason why he was looking for my name was for something other than educational. However, I simultaneously feel my body lighting up. "Oh, no, I definitely am a senior. I chose the writing class for my English elective. I, uh, want to be a writer so I figured it would help in the long run."

Mr. Hiddleston seems interested in what I have to say. Most tell me writing isn't a career or I have a one in a million chance in making it big. Well, if George Lucas can write the three prequels all alone and still make bank, I think I've got a pretty good shot. "Fascinating! What is your preferred genre?"

With some hesitation, I blurt out, "Fantasy, but also some horror and thrillers. I've tried sci-fi once; didn't work out too well."

"I love a good scary story," he comments, giving me a wink. I take this as a small gesture, but my insides are literally screaming. Never has a friendly wink turned me into a flustering mess. Part of me say he knows what he can do, and if that's the case, he's quite the cocky bastard.

Playing along, I give my shoulder a shrug and coolly reply, "Perhaps I can run a rough or final draft by you."

"I wouldn't mind that at all."

How does such a small statement cause all my organs and two hundred and six bones to turn into jelly?

Brushing my long hair from my face, I peek over at the clock. It's been a bit longer than I expected, the hands informing me I have five minutes left of my first class period. "Well, I ought to get going if there isn't anything else I can do for you?" I make sure to say this in the form of a question. I wouldn't mind being late to my next class just to see a gorgeous face a while longer.

Mr. Hiddleston's lips part for a moment just before clamming shut. The look in his blue eyes tell me he wants to say something, but doesn't. I'm not sure what would constitute such a hesitation; initially, I thought he would have asked me to help shelve the twenty-or-so books. The look is intense, or appears to be, just for a flash, less than a second. My own anxieties begin to shake just as a kind smile grows along his lips. "No, but I do appreciate the offer. Thank you, Carolyn."

I visibly cringe at my legal name, this look not going by the teacher so easily. He bursts a small laugh. "Not a fan or your name, are we?"

Shaking my head, I say, "No particularly. It's a bit vintage. Well, not terribly so, but I'm not over the moon about it." I pause awkwardly, my flustered nerves getting the better of me. I croak out some sounds before finishing my tangent. "I go by Lynn, though."

"Lynn it is then," Mr. Hiddleston announces. "I'll let you get going then. The bell will ring soon and I don't want you to be late on your first day back because of me."

I smirk while crossing over to the door. "Nah, I don't mind." Instantly I want to smack the back of my head. To anyone listening it would sound like I had been flirting with a teacher. Well, to be fair it would have sounded like it not matter what time someone were to jump in at. Even so, this comment I naturally came up with put me in a case of "oh fuck." With reddened cheeks, I take a look over my shoulder so see Mr. Hiddleston unfazed by my comment, thank the holy lord, except a ever growing smile. He takes his eyes off the paper in front of him, meeting me with his pretty blues.

"I'll see you around, Lynn."

"Likewise." And with that, I part down the hall, this time invested in taking the elevator.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

TAGLIST:

@khadineberry​

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

[subasekabang]

One Blank Concrete Wall, Primed

Title: One Blank Concrete Wall, Primed Rating: T/PG-13 for swearing and bloodless violence Word Count: 13,700 Pairings/Characters: No ships/Genfic. Neku, Joshua, Hanekoma as main characters. Appearances by most everyone else from TWEWY including Beat, Rhyme, Shiki, the reapers Warnings: brief mentions of past trauma/death (some of the Reapers discuss why they died), angelic/eldritch body horror (no blood or gore), imprisonment Summary: Neku’s in college now, and other than passing through Shibuya’s subway station to get to other parts of the city, he doesn’t really stop by much anymore. But when he gets a serious case of artist’s block before a gallery show, he decided to go back to his old stomping grounds to get inspired. Partner: @soundofez​ and @songsummoner​ Author’s Note: This was a fun, super weird piece. I also did some art for it on top of my partner’s work; all the art from me and my partners will appear in the correct parts of the fic on my AO3 link, which will go up Oct. 2. I’ll link in reply to this post with it when that’s up so you can see some really weird stuff (my own art is included below, though!!). Special thanks to Fez for designing college-age Neku’s clothes.

Also, Neku fights (and apologizes to) a building.

Enjoy!

XXX

Neku sighed. Squinting, he rolled up the blinds on his studio apartment a little, taking in the view. One window, the Skytree. The other, he could glimpse the top part of Sensouji’s pagoda. Asakusa was no Shibuya, but it had lots of car free pathways, quirky art stalls, and lots of tourists to draw. And it was a heck of a lot cheaper than living in Ueno.

He could walk to campus in about half an hour on a good day or take the subway just one stop to Tokyo University of the Arts on a bad one. It was convenient and, while a touristy area, surprisingly quiet.

Too quiet today, though. Neku fired up his tablet, pinging his friends. They always called everyone in a big group chat, though there was no obligation to answer.

“Sup, Phones?” Beat grinned into the camera, a giggle heard in the background.

“Beat, are you ever going to actually use his name?”

“I am though!” Best objected. “Neku’s tag is a pair of headphones. It’s practically his name at this point.”

“You’re not going to win on a technicality,” Rhyme chirped, turning the camera so she was in frame. “We’re between takes, anyway. What’s up, Neku?”

“Shit, did I interrupt a shoot?” Neku hovered over the hang-up button.

“I just said we were on break!” Rhyme reiterated, flailing her hands in front of her. “But Beat is shooting with your deck!”

His friend, who had only grown more muscular with the past five years, hefted up his skateboard, showing off the art of a flying squirrel on the undercarriage. “It’s still the sickest one I’ve got. You’d better have another one in the wings when it gets decommissaried, yo!”

“Decommissioned.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s not whatever, Beat,” another voice popped in, the newcomer’s eyebrow quirked in a hint of static as the visual flickered on.

“Sup, Shiki!” Beat said, waving wildly.

“Meet me for drinks when you’re done shooting? I can hop on the subway. It’s only a stop.”

“How’d you know where we are?”

“Beat, you always skate in Ikebukuro,” Shiki said matter-of-factly. “And I’m at school, so I’m only a stop away from you.”

“Oh. Right. Sometimes I wish we kept our mind reading powers,” Beat said with a pout.

“Noooooo thank you,” Shiki said with a grin. “Anyway, what’s all this about? I’ve got ten minutes ‘til my Fashion Sales class.”

Neku scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepishly at the camera. “I… er. Kinda needed some advice. I’ve got a gallery class where my one assignment is supposed to take the whole semester and I’m a bit stuck. I need to hand my draft proposition in by the end of next week.”

“What’s the topic?” Rhyme asked.

“That’s the thing. The art—even the medium—is up to me. Every fine art track has to take this thing. So, it doesn’t need to be painting, but I have to secure a space and create a work to match it. Like, get permission to paint a building, or something like that. Private or public property, just no vandalism. Street paste or yarn bombing is OK in public spaces. Basically, as long as it’s non-destructive; otherwise we need permission from the owner.”

“So, you need to scout out a place and make something that compliments it?” Rhyme asked.

“Yeah. And we can work together if we want. I don’t know my classmates well enough to know if our styles clash though.”

“Sounds tough.”

“That’s why it’s my whole assignment.”

Beat frowned. “I’ve got a good sponsorship going with Wild Boar. Could see if you could tag one of their shops.”

“Maybe,” Neku said. “But I want to step out of my comfort zone a little if I can. It’s a good backup.”

Shiki bit her lip. “Maybe you just need a little inspiration.”

“Little is an understatement.”

“What about that tag mural in Shibuya? Would that be fair game?”

The chat went silent. That wall in question was public property. It was absolutely not game—not for this assignment at least.

“Why?” Neku almost whispered, hoarse. “Why’d you even bring it up?”

“Because it’s been five years, Neku, and you haven’t gone back. CAT did what you’ve been assigned; he was a street artist who also did all these kinds of hired art too.”

“Hanekoma’s gone,” Neku reminded her. “I stopped trying. The shop was destroyed. If he ever came back, he’s not in Shibuya.”

“Then… ignore my bad idea,” Shiki said, not meeting eyes with the camera. “Sorry I brought it up.”

“No! No,” Neku reassured her, forcefully, then quiet, as if he were a deflating balloon. “Sorry if I snapped.”

“You didn’t snap,” Rhyme offered, before changing the subject. “I’ll think on it though; there’s gotta be some struggling coffee shop that could use some art, or something. Anyway… we need to get back to work, now.”

“And I have class. Neku, let’s chat tonight, after dinner? I can swing by your place. We can go get conveyor belt sushi over by Nakamise.”

“That… sounds pretty good, actually. Yeah. Let’s.”

“Later, alligator!” Rhyme said, chipper.

“Yeah! Later!” Shiki added.

“Let’s bounce!” Beat snuck in as Rhyme ended the call.

Neku was left alone to his thoughts.

Shibuya.

He and his friends romped through the city almost every weekend after they were all brought back—at least at first. Eventually exams took over for Shiki and Neku, both hell-bent on getting in Bunka Fashion College and Tokyo Arts respectively. Beat slowly got more and more skate sponsorships with Rhyme as his videographer, making her new dream to shoot the world’s best skater: her brother.

Neku closed his eyes, imagining the gleaming, ad-drenched skyscrapers, a far cry from the view from his apartment window.

Maybe.

Maybe it was time to finally go back; maybe Shiki wasn’t wrong. It was his old stomping grounds, his old home. And it was only a few hundred yens’ ride away.

Neku pinched his forearm once to ground himself, grabbed his wallet and a scarf (courtesy of Shiki’s weaving class, in a sturdy textured purple crepe) and headed out the door.

Xxx

Neku’s palm touched plaster and concrete. Slowly, he slid his hand along the wall, breathing out an exhale. Even in his high school years, when his friends would regularly bum around Shibuya after school and on weekends, he avoided the mural. It wasn’t that he stopped liking it; just… He felt he didn’t need it anymore. He had plenty of CAT’s art to keep him company, from the pins in his pocket to the billboards throughout the city.

Maybe he was young and naïve back then, but looking at the faded piece, partially obscured by other, less impressive tags… well, it didn’t seem very impressive anymore.

“‘Course it isn’t, you brain-dead binomial,” a familiar voice sneered from behind him. Neku whipped around to see Sho Minamimoto, cat whiskers and all, grinning with fanged teeth.

Sho put up his hands as a peace offering, sensing Neku’s hackles rising. “I’m not attacking the living; don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’d really rather not get divided by zero. Again.”

Neku relaxed his shoulders a little but said nothing.

“You’re a leaky faucet, you single-digit integer,” Sho explained, as he pointed to a vending machine, sending a pair of CC Lemon bottles flying out of it and at the two of them. He leaned against the mural, back to it, sliding down to sit and sighing with his drink. “I miss CAT, too, you know. Been the square-root of 25 years since anyone’s seen a new piece of his. Some of the reapers actually thought it might’ve been you.”

Neku laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Me?” he asked, plopping down next to his former enemy, accepting the citrus-flavored peace offering. “I was fifteen. And CAT had been active way before I was born.”

“Thought it was a title, you dumb fractal. Like Pope or Emperor.”

“Expert street artists are called Kings and Queens, you know.”

“And dead ones are Angels,” Sho added with a sage nod. “Trying to one-up a Reaper on art is like trying to find the cube root of i.”

Neku stared down at his soft drink, thinking of Hanekoma. The title suited him in more ways than one, thanks to a little packet he’d found in Mr. H’s shop back when he and Beat snuck in to see if there was anything they could save. Since Hanekoma was CAT, there had been a pretty strong likelihood some of his art was still in the ruined café, but sadly there wasn’t any evidence in there at all. Neku saw faded marks where canvases and an easel had once been stacked in a curious empty back room; someone had beaten them to clearing it out.

Sho pulled Neku out of his thoughts eventually, after one intrepid skater ate pavement attempting to grind the Cyco Records railing.

“What’s eating you, pain-in-my-vector? Well, former.”

“You don’t hold a grudge?” Neku asked curiously.

“It’s a long afterlife. Grudges are useless.”

The two sat in silence for a while, watching the skaters try their new decks outside the Wild Boar at the midpoint of the T section.

“You gonna ask me why I’m here?”

“I know why you’re here,” Sho replied testily, tapping his temple. “Was waiting to see if you’d give me the proof out of your mouth.”

“Right. Mind reading.”

“I can’t see every piece of the equation; that’s not how it works and you know it. But I can solve for x and fill in the blanks.”

Neku sighed. “What can you see?”

“That you’re stuck on a hard problem and you’ve been staring at your homework too long.”

“And by problem you mean—”

“I can’t tell—just some big project is eating you up. At least it’s not Higashizawa. That hectopascal can eat a man whole. I’ve seen it.” Minamimoto slung back his drink. “So, what’s eating you?”

“I mean, other than you being alive again?” Neku asked, eyebrow raised.

“Still dead as I was last you saw me.”

“Last I saw you, you were crushed under a vending machine.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse days.” Minamimoto shrugged. “That infinite asshole of a Composer fixed me back up and sent me right back to work. Now stop stalling, you obtuse angle. Out with it.”

“Artist’s block,” Neku admitted sheepishly. “I’ve got a big project coming up and I just can’t think of the right thing to do.”

Sho laughed, his head flung back and whole body shaking with the action. “Artist’s block, you dithering digit. You don’t think we Reapers never deal with that shit? At least for you, it’s not fatal.”

“F-fatal?” Neku asked, almost dropping his bottle.

“We run on Imagination,” Sho said, chucking his emptied-out drink with force, sending it flying halfway down the alley into a recycling bin attached to a vending machine. “No Imagination, no power. No power long enough and poof, divide by zero. Crunch. Drop a vending machine on me? I’ll walk it off. Go too long without making something…”

Sho went uncharacteristically quiet, running his fingers through a hole in his jeans.

“So, what do you do when you’re stuck?” Neku finally asked.

“I raid the trash. Something always finds its way to me.” Sho pulled a loose thread and threw it to the wind. “I don’t just mean the garbage; I mean the rest of us. Talkin’ it out’s helped. I used to think I didn’t need anybody else. But then I got subtracted out so many times by you ‘n Prisspants, well. Don’t want to admit it but dividing up the work’s helped solve the harder equations.”

Neku smiled, offering a hand. “I can leave you my number if you ever want to talk shop.”

Sho blinked twice, confused. “You’d… help me? I was an irrational digit.”

“So? I was an asshole teenager. I pass through often enough. It’s not much trouble, especially if you’re feeding me,” Neku admitted, shaking his now empty bottle. “You try keeping on weight on a college art student’s budget.”

“Yeah, all right,” Sho said, standing up, swiping Neku’s empty bottle to shove in one of his myriad pockets. “A balanced equation—I dig it. I’m using this in my next piece,” he added, tapping the bottle with a hollow thud. “Thanks… Neku.”

Before Neku had a chance to even realize it was the first time Sho called him by name, the Reaper had vanished back to the Underground, out of Neku’s reach.

Xxx

Neku stood at the mural a few minutes longer, rolling the plastic bottle cap in his fingers. If Sho was alive, well, less dead, then Joshua was still haunting Shibuya from somewhere—Hanekoma, too.

So why was the mural so worn out? Had Mr. H run out of new inspiration himself? Neku sighed, no more ready to tackle the assignment as he hoofed it back to the station, tossing the bottle-cap into the recycling as he passed.

The CC Lemon Sho had expertly pitched was mysteriously absent from the top of the pile.

“If Sho went dumpster diving to make recycled friendship bracelets, I think I’ll actually bust a rib laughing,” Neku muttered to himself.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Neku whipped his head around to see a Reaper in a basic hoodie. A faceless grunt, one of at least tens, if not hundreds, patrolling the city. No visible wings, so at least Neku could remind himself he hadn’t gone sliding into the UG. Just another Reaper coming up to the RG for air. Or to pester him.

Or both.

“Do I know you?” Neku asked, eyeing the teenage-looking apparition in oversized clothing.

The boy huffed. “The Reaper Review remembers you.”

Neku laughed and relaxed a little. “At least you’re not the Reaper who made me show up in all Mus Rattus to break their barrier. Or the other one who made me get them a chili dog.”

“When you’re a minor officer, you’re allowed to send Players on wild goose chases,” the Reaper said with a shrug. “I’m just happy I was allowed to block mine with trivia. I hate fighting.”

“You and me both,” Neku grumbled.

The reaper tipped his hood back slightly, enough to show Neku his ethereal looking eyes. “I overheard you had artist’s block. Er, sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. It’s the worst.”

“Great. Is my mind safe from any of you?” Neku groaned, though it wasn’t in anger. He couldn’t complain. Hearing the livings’ thoughts just happened when you were dead.

“Actually, I was guarding the mural and overheard your chat with the Lieutenant.”

“Oof. Minamimoto got a demotion?”

“He seems happier in the field, anyway,” the Reaper replied with a shrug. “More time for his sculptures and harassing players.”

Neku looked at the Reaper curiously. “Sho mentioned you all do art. Have to keep your Imagination up.”

“That’s… not entirely true. I mean yeah, gotta keep the creative juices going or we stop existing. But it doesn’t have to be through art. Cooking, dance, whatever goes. When I’m stuck, I usually learn from another Reaper. Gives me some perspective.”

Neku’s smile widened. “You’re right, you know. I need to broaden my horizons. What do you do?”

“Me? Uh… I design puzzles. The player traps and stuff.”

“Ugh,” Neku groaned.

“You paint, right? I remember seeing some of your tags under the Miyashita Park underpass a few years ago. You’re pretty good. Maybe… try heading over near Shibu-Q? The Reapers that dance usually practice that way—sidewalk is wide enough. Loosen up with some life drawing or something.”

Neku smiled. “I have to do an installation project, but you know what? That’s not a terrible idea. Thanks.” He looked to the corner where Shibu-Q stood and then back at his nameless friend, but the Reaper was already gone.

Xxx

Neku didn’t know what he was expecting to find outside Shibu-Q, but a pair of Harrier Reapers doing acrobatic dancing was not it. Neku smirked as he watched the reaper woman with electric purple lipstick—Uzuki, if he remembered correctly—pirouetting before using her friend as a vaulting block to spin up and over his back.

The two continued their routine, the man—Kariya, Neku remembered after a few embarrassed moments of mental fumbling—seeming lazy and unmoving but carefully and precisely supporting his partner’s flashy moves. The two continued for another ten minutes or so, then each held out a hat for change.

Neku patted himself down for his wallet before dumping three 500-yen coins in Uzuki’s hat as it passed around. She glared at him a moment, then pushed the coins back in his face.

“Not taking money from you,” she snipped. “I already owe you enough. Shoo.”

Kariya looked over his shoulder at Neku, momentarily confused. After all, the two of them hadn’t aged a day while Neku was now a lanky, slightly scruffy young adult. Realization crossed the Reaper’s features slowly, eventually tugging his mouth into a half grin. Kariya offered Neku a backwards half-salute and went back to waving his hat around for change.

Eventually the crowd dispersed. Kariya loped over to Neku and Uzuki, clapping Neku on the shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. You’re as tall as I am now. Good on you. How’s life treating you?”

Neku couldn’t help but laugh at the double meaning behind the words. “Busy. College.”

“You know, I wondered when I would stop seeing you run around the RG so much over here.”

“Never mind me,” Neku said, sloughing off Kariya’s friendly gesture and looking at the two of them. “How are you holding up?”

“How do you think?” Uzuki spat. “There weren’t many powerful Reapers left after that mess—at least for a while. So, some ass went and got themselves promoted to Conductor.”

Kariya looked down at his feet, blush going all the way across his face. “It’s not like I asked for it; I wasn’t given a choice. At least I negotiated that I could do things my way. Uzuki’s my GM.”

Neku frowned. “So… then you know the Composer.”

Kariya’s eyes went uncharacteristically fierce. “That’s on a need to know basis and—”

“Read my mind then,” Neku countered. “There’s something I do need to know.”

Neku closed his eyes and thought of Joshua. What he really wanted was to talk to Mr. Hanekoma, but the only way he was going to be able to do that would be going to Joshua first.

Kariya whistled low. “Okay. Fine. Kid, come here a sec.”

“Kariya, come on. Why are you even telling this kid anything? He’s alive. And—”

“He knows about Josh, Uzuki, I’m not giving him anything new. Just… maybe pointing him in the right direction.”

Uzuki pushed a loose strand of burgundy hair from her eyes. “Fiiiiine, whatever. You’re the boss.”

“You’ve seen him?” Neku asked quietly.

“’Course I have. He’s my boss,” Kariya said with a sigh. “Though he only comes to speak if he feels like it. I’ve caught him sulking over past the Miyashita Park underpass though. No clue why. Out there is just a bunch of sporting goods stores and Josh and physical activity mix like oil and vinegar. Hope that helps. What do you need him for, anyway? You’re alive.”

“It’s not him I’m even looking for,” Neku admitted. “I want him to tell me what happened to an old friend.”

Kariya relaxed a bit. “If said old friend has anything to do with the UG, might as well ask me.”

“I’m looking for CAT.”

Kariya frowned, scratching the back of his head in contemplation. “CAT was a Reaper? He— or she, I guess— stopped doing anything new after I became Conductor. Yeah. You’d have to speak to Josh. That’s before my time and below my pay grade.”

“Thanks anyway, Kariya,” Neku said, genuinely appreciative. “It’s better than nothing.”

“Anytime. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Neku closed his eyes a moment, sighing quietly. “Hope so too,” he muttered, opening them to an empty sidewalk.

Xxx

Neku headed eastbound towards Cat Street, passing Stride on the left. Gone were the Tin Pin banners, long since replaced with whatever new plastic toy battling fad that had taken hold of the local kids.

“You know, I heard a commotion from some of the older guard that a carrot was running around Udagawa.”

Neku had whiplash. Poised behind him with a cigarette loosely held in between his middle and ring finger was a face Neku couldn’t believe he was seeing.

“Seven?” Neku asked incredulously. He reached out his hand for the bleach-blonde, swaggering musician’s to find it cold as ice. Neku frowned. “Smoking kills, you know.”

777 played with the cigarette between his fingers. “How d’you think I died?” He gave a cocky grin. “Actually, I fell off a roof rigging an abandoned warehouse party. This is why you do safety checks. Tenho still gives me grief about it.”

Neku smiled weakly. “That bites.”

“The dust? Oof. Yeah. But hey, all three of us went down at once. The party scattered and when we showed up to play a new set a few weeks later nobody realized we weren’t exactly alive. They probably thought we broke a bone or two at worst and hid to lick our wounds—not cracked our skulls on the sidewalk.” Neku winced. “Er, sorry, Orange. Didn’t mean to dredge up anything bad on your end. Just odd, seeing you back.”

“Looking for someone,” Neku admitted. “The owner of the café that used to be on Cat Street.”

“Hanekoma? Stopped in there for coffee sometimes. Bit odd. His shop didn’t have the Player decal, yet he definitely served stiffs. Reapers as customers is one thing—we can go to the RG—but… hell. What do I know?”

Neku flocked his eyes up and down the street. Not that it mattered; Reapers could be in the UG right next to him and he wouldn’t know. “Yeah, he could see the dead.”

“ESPer or something?” Seven asked, blowing out a smoke ring that looked like a bat. Now he was just showing off.

“Something like that.”

“Well, fat lot that did him. Shop’s been MIA ever since I got recommissioned—maybe earlier. All I remember is, I had a double shot espresso there the night before that gig you helped me with, got blown up like two weeks later, and when I’m back to my good old dead self, the shop looks like it got exploded too. What the hell went on in this city that week?”

“War,” Neku said grimly.

“And you won, didn’t you?” Seven elbowed him in the shoulder. “You’d be one of my types now if you hadn’t.”

“Yeah, I did,” Neku said, throat dry. “Thanks for the chat.”

“You come to our next gig, you hear? You’ve gotta be old enough to drink now. VIP for you ‘n the cute chick you were with. Or, uh, anyone else. Don’t know if asking her would be awkward. She made it out, didn’t she? Please say yes.”

Neku smiled. “She did, and we’re still friends. I’ll ask. She won’t look like how you’re expecting though.”

“Neither do you, not-so-short stack. Now get outta here. I’m gonna finish my drag and get back to setup before Beej screams me out. Later.” Seven snapped his fingers and the cigarette exploded in a puff of blue fiery smoke. “Open invite, Orange, just tell the bouncer ‘golden bat’ at the door.”

Xxx

Neku inhaled. He knew past here was Cadoi, then Miyashita.

Then Cat Street.

Neku passed a small spot under the park underpass where Beat and Rhyme’s flowers had once been placed, leaving behind a tiny finger skateboard. Beat would probably punch him; Rhyme would find it hilarious. He did it to honor his once dead friend. Some kid would probably see it, and abscond with it, and play with it till it broke. Beat’s skateboard, in the hands of some kid passing by—it was fitting.

Neku let his memory walk him the rest of the way to WildKat. It stood as it had since the incident: a broken front window, a door barely hanging on its hinges. How it remained like this almost half a decade without developer intervention was shocking, honestly. Or maybe not, if divine intervention was involved.

Neku inhaled and took a step forward.

Again.

Again.

He carefully swung the door, afraid the whole thing would come off the frame in his hands. It squeaked something awful but hung by a thread.

The inside was worse. Neku should have brought one of his paint masks with him. The place was a fire trap of chipped plaster, dust, and mold. An old safe in the back corner was open on its hinges. The only things that looked clean were the sink, two sealed jars of whole coffee beans, and a single drip carafe, the rest of the row shattered beyond recognition.

Neku’s sketchbook and a mechanical pencil set still sat atop the dust-crusted counter. He’d left them there when he and Beat had returned— the only time Neku stepped foot in the shop when he was alive—to check on the shop.

To check on its owner.

Leaving the sketchbook behind seemed fitting. It was half full of random crap, and half empty, nothing but open promises in the end.

Maybe Neku didn’t need Hanekoma, or CAT, or the old shop. Carefully, he made his way around a splintered bar stool, sidestepped a broken glass pitcher, and hauled himself up on the only stool left in sittable condition.

Reverently, he opened the book. He almost laughed at his fifteen-year-old self’s sketches. The first three pages were ideas for tags around the city. He actually cringed at one.

Then a page of Shiki—a quick sketch, half likely from stolen glances and half from memory, because it was her as herself on the left, and as Eri on the right.

Ideas for Beat’s skateboards.

Architecture sketches

An entire six pages of circles and cubes, shaded with hatching or a blending stump.

Neku turned to the next page.

In handwriting that wasn’t his, scrawled in large block print…

TURN AROUND, DEAR.

Xxx

Neku screamed. It wasn’t one of fear, but frustration. “You slimy, little—” he shrieked, as he spun around in the stool expecting to see a smarmy, fifteen-year-old-looking blonde, if the agelessness of the other UG residents was anything to go by.

Instead, a softly frowning man in his mid-thirties stood behind him.

With blonde fly-away hair.

And strange purple eyes.

And a blue-purple button down with white accents and charcoal slacks.

Neku bit his lower lip, holding back a fury he hadn’t had in years.

“You.”

“I come in peace,” Joshua offered, hands up defensively, glowing slightly. “I wrote that years ago. Now I kind of regret it.” Neku relaxed a little. Joshua would be dramatic enough to do that and scare him when he entered the shop, wouldn’t he?

“Only kind of, though,” Joshua added, pulling a broken chair from the rubble, fixing it with a shake and sitting down beside Neku. “It’s still Imprinted. I’m not in the RG. The note left a bit of me in it. You see it, you see me, too.”

“You been tailing me all day, too?”

“I felt you in the city, but no. Only when I got a text about it.”

Kariya. Of course.

“Your conductor rat me out?”

“He did say you were looking for me. So, might have imprinted on you a bit to push you here.”

“You could have come and—”

“—said hello? No, actually, I can’t. I’m on probation. Can’t enter the RG for a decade. Not the biggest deal for me, mind, but… humans don’t live near as long as things like I do. I needed you to come to me. Glad that thing still works.” He tapped the notebook, his hand clipping through a page or two like he wasn’t all there.

Neku exhaled. “I trust you, you know. Still don’t forgive you, but I do trust you.”

“I know. I appreciate you said it aloud, but I know.”

“You look better when your clothes actually fit.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve gotten better at keeping up with me,” Joshua said with a bit of a grin.

“You’ve slowed down in your age, you old fart.”

“Old? Fart?” Joshua pouted, and where there had been a well-put-together adult sat a petulant teenager in the same attire, now oversized to the point of baggy. He looked as the Reapers did—unaged.

“At least now you fit in with the rest of your underlings,” Neku huffed.

Joshua frowned. “I wish I did, honestly.” Quietly, he stared off, past Neku to the empty kitchen.

“Miss him too?”

“More than you,” Joshua shot back.

“Didn’t have many friends?”

“Comes with the job.”

Neku rolled a pencil between his fingers. He’d caught the proverbial tail and didn’t know what to do with it. Joshua was here and clearly knew just as much as Neku did about his former idol’s whereabouts. They sat in silence as Joshua’s likely million-yen watch ticked away.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Neku replied flatly.

“You’re no fun, Neku,” Joshua needled. “Fine. Look, Sanae liked you, more than just the fact that you were my Proxy. Hell, I’m surprised he helped you at all, knowing what you represented in my Game. You were the bad guy.”

Joshua slunk in the only-until-recently broken bar seat, kicking at a shattered tile with an awfully expensive sneaker. When he couldn’t quite reach, his form shifted back to that of an adult, flinging the chipped tile aside like a petulant child. “Neku, I need you.”

“Like you needed me to destroy Shibuya.”

Joshua exhaled, wisps of golden hair fluttering as he stared at anything but Neku. “I’ve been trying to find Hanekoma for years. Every moment I’m not here keeping the city together, I’m traveling to find him. You wouldn’t understand, but I need you to get a lock on him.”

“You’re dimension hopping.”

Joshua sat straight up, his too-long legs hitting the café bar as he did so. “Fuck,” he hissed, rubbing at his knee. “Too tall for my own good. But how? How could you even know that?”

Neku pointed to the safe at the back corner of the café, still just as ajar as he left it when he found the key pin with Beat back in the game. “Mr. H. left me a book of notes: on the game, on angels, all of it.” Neku scrolled through his phone. “I used to keep it on me, thinking it would help me somehow, someday. Eventually, I just scanned it all.”

“Gimme,” Joshua demanded, and the phone was in his hands. Neku watched in awe at the Composer’s speed reading. “I know he kept notes for the Angels, but this wasn’t for them—it was for you. Where’s the real deal?”

“My apartment.”

“Address. Specific location. I’m talking ‘fourth floor, third bedroom, under the red futon next to my stack of- ‘”

Neku cut him off quickly, rattling off his exact address and where he hid the book. Joshua held out a free hand, and in a moment, it materialized with the softest of thunks, pages fluttering in Joshua’s fingertips. “Be glad I’m on good terms with the Composer of Taito Ward,” Joshua admonished, pointing with the small hand-bound journal. “Otherwise I would have sent you home to go get it yourself.”

“What, are you going to track down Hanekoma with this?”

“No, of course not,” Joshua snorted, standing upright, shaking himself once to completely dissipate any plaster shavings or broken chips from his clothing.

“You are.”

Xxx

Neku watched in awe as Joshua’s back bloomed with light, a pair of massive swan-like silver-white wings settling on his back, iridescent with hints of lavender as he shook them loose. Before Neku could think, Hanekoma’s journal was thrust into his hands, and Joshua had him in a position he’d later call The Little Spoon of Death. With a jerk backwards, the two fell through and landed precisely where they’d been before, except the shop was in clean, working order, jazz playing on the radio, and a familiar voice humming tunelessly along with the guitar.

“Heya, Josh. Back so soon?”

Neku blinked and almost cried when he saw the man behind the counter. “H-Hanekoma?!? Mr. H?”

“One of,” Hanekoma said with a shrug. “Not the one you’re looking for though.”

Neku tried to surge forward to give the man (angel?) a hug but was held firmly in place by Joshua’s murderous grip around his waist. “Let go,” Neku whined through gritted teeth.

“Not a good idea, Boss,” Hanekoma chided. “You don’t want to get stuck in the wrong place.”

Neku let himself slacken. “I can get stuck?”

“Sure as the rain ruining my day,” Hanekoma agreed. “When you’re in the right place, you’ll know.”

“Can you help?”

“Can I? Sure. Will I? No. He’s a hellion. You’re never going to find him anyway.”

“Isn’t he another you?”

“You wouldn’t say the same thing if you met you from this world,” Joshua said, exasperated. “I wonder why the book sent us here.”

“This is where you hid after Minamimoto tried to erase you, isn’t it?” Neku asked. He flipped through the journal. “He hid somewhere high to wait for you. Because he thought this Hanekoma would turn him into the Angel Police or something.”

“I did,” Hanekoma said proudly. “Can’t have me ruining my good name.”

“Fuck off,” Neku spat at the barista. “You’re not Hanekoma.”

“I’m the part of Hanekoma that actually follows our rules.”

Joshua squeezed Neku tighter. “Hold on and keep thinking of that.”

“What—whyyyyyyyyyy?!” Neku screamed as sound escaped him. The whole universe lurched underneath as Joshua resumed pinging around between alternate realities, barely stopping to breathe.

“Focus!” Joshua ordered him through the din of dizzying WildKat cafes, Shibuya skylines, and for a brief moment, possibly the cold depths of space.

“THERE IS NOTHING TO FOCUS ON YOU DAFT ZOMBIE!” Neku shouted back, feeling his insides out and outsides in before the two bounced off a massive plate of glass and went rolling out to nowhere. Joshua pulled his wings around them, breaking the fall as they bounced a few times to the sounds of shattering glass.

They stilled. Neku could hear his own breathing and feel his heart jumping in his chest. Disquietingly, Joshua had neither breath nor a heartbeat, his torso flat against Neku’s back without any noticeable sign of life. Neku quietly filed that part under “disgusting, do not remind” and wiggled a little to loosen Joshua’s grip on his midsection.

“Hang on,” Joshua hissed out. “Easy does it.”

“That was easy?”

“You should see hard,” Joshua said, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. “And it might surprise you but… I think we’re here.”

Joshua rocked on the shoulders of his wings, pushing them both upright and parting a crack for them to see from.

The world consisted of a single, stained-glass building in a shattered-glass sky. The ground crunched with hardened paint beneath them.

“Somewhere high, following the rules… and nothing to focus on. Neku, sometimes, only sometimes, am I reminded of your genius.”

“I am in elbow-to-face range,” Neku reminded him.

“Yes, dear, and you’d best stay that way unless you want to swallow glass,” Joshua pointed out. “I’m too concerned about flying through that with a passenger, let alone someone alive, so we’re going to walk in tandem to the entrance and pray there’s no tricks along the way.”

Neku wanted to argue he wasn’t much for prayer but being cocooned in angel wings wasn’t doing him any favors in that department.

“Well at least I’m getting the inspiration I was looking for,” Neku muttered as he marveled through the tiniest of openings in between Joshua’s feathers. They both shuddered as pellets of colored glass dogged them like rain, Neku grimacing with each step.

“I think that is this world’s rain,” Joshua said aloud. “What? You’re thinking too loud. Either shut up or I’ll nitpick your thoughts. Last you want to do is swallow glass talking out loud, anyway.”

They walked in silence for what felt like eternity, roughly matching steps so their wing-cocoon tank didn’t topple. Peppered by the shards of rain, Neku was slowly getting a better view of the world outside his feathered umbrella.

The tower reminded him of Pork City, though it stretched upwards through molten clouds that burned red hot like liquid glass being worked at a forge. The whole thing was stained glass of infinite color—giant, angular panes crossed and reinforced by black, wrought iron-like supports, with sharp points sticking out at odd angles from the structure. 

“I think so too,” Joshua agreed with Neku’s wandering thoughts. “That’s Pork City, all right—made from Reaper wings. It looks like a gorgeous prison. A prison all the same, though,” he added, sighing.

Soon enough, the entrance loomed overhead, its maw of black webbing haphazardly stuffed with angular pastel glass. The tinkle of the rain bounced off the overhang as Joshua ever-so-slowly folded his wings behind him.

“I think you’re safe, for now,” he said, with the authoritativeness betraying his true age. “I promise, I’m not going to let you die here—you’re still holding Sanae’s book.”

“Because that’s all you care about,” Neku grumbled, to Joshua’s pout. “Oh, come off. I’m going to make up for all the teasing you did to me. Now let’s hope there’s an elevator in there or you’ll be flying us up the stairs.”

Xxx

“Lights are on; nobody’s home,” Joshua said, looking around as the two shuffled inside. “Okay, I’m letting go.”

“You’re what!” Neku shrieked, breathing heavy as Joshua smirked, unhooking his hands from around Neku’s waist. “Didn’t that other Hanekoma say it was a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a cataclysmically terrible idea. You’ll be trapped here forever now.”

“Joshua–I—you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“I mean, of course. I’m an ass, but nobody’s that heartless.”

“You murdered me. Twice.”

“I also brought you back to life, so no complaints,” Joshua snipped back. “Now, what have we here?”

Neku sighed, reminded of exactly how aggravating the little god could be. He looked around the entry foyer. The walls inside the building were a blinding white, almost piercing in their contrast to the stained glass on the outer walls of the monstrous tower. “I think this thing is alive,” Neku muttered.

“It’s not,” Joshua said, almost too quickly. “Or, rather, it’s as alive as Sanae or I am.”

“So it’s, what, an angel?”

Joshua kneeled down to touch the floor, a soft white abalone with a pearlescent sheen. “Yes. And we just entered the mouth.” Neku shuddered. “Oh, it’s not really that big a deal, Neku,” Joshua said, standing up and tsk-ing him with a finger. “This building is no more going to digest you than a wooden one; though I’m sure you’ve seen trees grow around and consume cars and houses.”

“Not helping,” Neku grumbled. “Hey, I’m not sure if it’s the retina damage, but are the walls bleeding paint?”

Joshua tucked his massive wings up high on his back, where they still trailed behind him like a couture dress, and shimmy-hopped over to the interior wall. “Oh, it’s probably retina damage,” he said cheerily, “you’re looking at pure light after all. But you’re not wrong.” Joshua swiped his hand along the wall, coming off it with a smear of mustard yellow acrylic paint. He blew on it, drying it immediately, and peeled it off like a face mask. “Must be the elevator hidden in the wall and… here we go.”

With a squelching sound like wrenching a tooth out of its socket—Neku wondering with a shudder that if that actually was a tooth—Joshua dislodged the panel, revealing a plush, red-velvet-lined elevator speckled with flecks of paint.

“If that’s a tongue, I’m out of here,” Neku complained.

“It’s not a tongue,” Josh said with a suspicious grin, stuffing himself inside with his wings still exposed. Neku shuffled and squeezed in, a massive feather poking him in the backside. The doors closed. “It’s the esophagus, Neku.”

Xxx

“Can’t you put those away?” Neku asked, after what felt like an eternity of being smothered by a giant chicken.

Joshua sighed, looking more serious than Neku was ever used to. “Yes, but I won’t.”

Neku expected him to elaborate, but Joshua merely went silent, hands out and open and feathers fluffed up.

Quickly, Neku understood why. It started quietly, a ping and a plop and a hiss, and became louder and more intense with each passing second. A few moments later, Neku was positive he wasn’t hearing things; it sounded like rain pouring from a gutter except… the rain was a stream of fire-engine red and the gutter was the walls of the elevator. The liquid pooled in the velvet flooring like blood matting the fur on a wounded, furry animal.

“Neku, move in before I make you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice as Joshua threw his wings up around them again, reaching a hand out of the fluffy shield to pull the emergency stop on the elevator panel. Neku didn’t even realize how fast they’d been ascending until they screeched to a halt.

“The walls are bleeding.”

“Paint,” Joshua replied. “It’s just paint.”

“You also said the building was an angel,” Neku reminded him testily. “What’s to say that this isn’t—”

“Angel blood melts like acid,” Joshua replied flatly. Neku didn’t know if he were telling the truth or not, but the soles of his shoes, now caked in it, weren’t dissolving.

Joshua pulled him close, wrapping his left arm around his shoulders and left wing over that like a shield. Neku couldn’t see anything but white, but he felt a jolt of exertion and heard Joshua swear low.

“Neku, dear, stay close and don’t scream.”

In the time it took him to blink, the Joshua that Neku was familiar with vanished. Every pore of the elevator was leaking paint in gushes now; thankfully blues and greens and hot pinks, to put Neku slightly more at ease, balanced evenly with the remainder of the free space taken up by living, swirling paint.

Noise.

One giant one.

It was silent and snake-like, and it dug its claws into the elevator door, wrenching it open without a sound save the rushing air.

The elevator had stopped between two floors, and the Noise slipped out the bottom to slide down to the floor below.

Move, it demanded of him. Drowning in paint doesn’t belong in your obituary.

Neku more or less knew the beast had been Joshua, but the voice in his head finally cemented it.

“I’ll break my legs.”

“I’ll catch you.”

Neku didn’t even register the response said aloud, slipping down the paint-soaked velvet and landing in a nest of color-streaked feathers.

“See?”

“I’m drenched,” Neku grumped, and then realized he wasn’t. His and Joshua’s clothes were pristine again, though the wild streaks of paint still covered Neku’s arms and Joshua’s feathers.

“Not getting rid of it all. I don’t know if the building is trying to attack us and I’d rather we still smell like it.”

“You think?” Neku asked sarcastically. He looked around the room. Paint had pooled in oil-slick puddles on the floor and was leaking out cracks in the walls. Neku heard dripping from overhead, looking up to see globs of color slowly plopping from the ceiling. The acrylic paint’s own drying-to-plastic properties were likely the only thing preventing a flood of multicolored rain on them.

Carefully, Neku hot-footed around the deepest puddles and made his way to the stained glass on the perimeter.

“We are really high up,” he breathed out, looking at the world below.

Joshua fluttered, and landed gracefully next to him. “We are. Care not to break the glass.”

“I’m not that—”

“—without me,” Joshua continued, barreling for the window, grabbing Neku as he shattered an entire pane.

For a moment, time stood still, not that it mattered much in this place to begin with. The triangular pastel shards exploded out with them on the side of the building and Neku swore he heard it scream. The shards from the broken window floated around them, glittering against the glass rain pelting them from above. Joshua pulled Neku in tighter, wings curled.

“Duck.” That was Neku’s only warning as Joshua opened his wings to propel them up against the pellets of crystalline rain before hurling himself sideways, crashing into another exterior wall.

“Human bodies are too frail,” Joshua tsk’ed at him once they finished rolling in a 20 centimeters deep pool of paint. With a hand wave, Neku found himself as clean as he could be, and free of scratches.

Paint sluiced down from their entry hole, likely streaking the outside of the building as the room began to drain. Neku shook the stars from his eyes as Joshua flicked his fingers across his button-down shirt, sending the liquid colors away as he did so.

His wings were still streaked with neon.

The room had no stairs, no elevator shaft, from what Neku could see. It was just glass around the outside and a concrete floor and ceiling. Scattered about the room were pillars and flat concrete pieces, some wall-to-ceiling, but most about half height—like an art gallery.

The entire room, save the glass, was completely covered in art.

Graffiti.

Classical.

Renaissance.

Ukiyo-e

Cubist.

It was one step short of being an eyesore. And as the paint drained out, pouring down the exterior side of the building, Neku could see the floor, too, covered with incredible works of art. He felt almost embarrassed when he moved his foot, leaving behind a hot-pink footprint on impressionist lilies.

“They’re just copies,” Joshua said sternly, looking around. “Technically precise, but nothing original except in how it’s all mashed together.”

Neku nodded. “I just stepped in Monet.”

“Well, a good copy. Poor Sanae. Stay on your guard, Neku; he’s up here somewhere. And he’s probably not going to look like what you’re used to.”

“Like how you were a dragon?” Neku asked.

“His street art handle isn’t CAT for nothing.”

“I’m assuming it’s not a housecat, then,” Neku hissed back, suddenly concerned. Both of them winced on hearing a howl.

Quiet, Joshua ordered inside his head. And stay behind me.

Neku nodded and the two wove their way through the gallery, following the sound of growls and irritated hisses. Joshua slowly peeled around a corner, motioning for Neku to follow.

A great graffiti-winged panther that Neku could only assume was Mr. Hanekoma glared back through acid-paint eyes.

Xxx

Joshua shoved Neku roughly aside, striding confidently to the massive graffiti beast.

“Hello, old friend,” Joshua said, tired and aged himself.

The creature screamed. The concrete half-wall Neku had been cowering behind exploded into fragments of color and shrapnel.

The beast froze, sniffed. It took one step, then another, leaning its gargantuan head over the broken divider to look down at Neku.

Neku had never been terrified before. Even in the Game, he’d had periods when he was scared, adrenaline coursing through him like the drug it was. But this abject fear to witness a man he trusted—who he might even consider a friend—be reduced to a mindless abomination drooling tempera paint overhead was sobering.

The beast opened its maw wide. Joshua jumped to his side in a flash, throwing up a wing to protect him.

Hanekoma tilted his head a little, reminiscent of a puppy. “Ne….ku?”

Xxx

Neku and Joshua watched over the next…however long it took. Hanekoma paced, occasionally knocking over a bucket of paint or, in one case, slamming into one of the concrete half-wall dividers with his flank as his graffiti form jittered and convulsed.

He’s coming back around, Joshua hissed in Neku’s head. At this point, we just need to wait.

Neku nodded. Joshua still held a wing up and an iron grip on the other’s arm and waist, but it was with good reason. Hanekoma screamed again, rupturing the concrete and Neku’s eardrums. For a few moments, Neku saw nothing but static, before the searing pain faded.

“—Sanae, Sanae, come back to us,” Joshua pleaded in croaking whispers as Neku’s hearing returned. “Please. Your attacks are only hurting him, see? I just had to completely repair his eardrums.”

The cat-beast howled again, knocking Neku utterly unconscious this time.

Xxx

Neku came to on the floor of the gallery, slowly taking stock of the room around him through hazy peripheral vision. Most of the dividers were at least punched through, if not entirely destroyed. A cold hand covered most of his forward vision, however.

“Neku, can you hear me?” Hanekoma’s gruff voice was twanged with concern.

“He should; I fixed his eardrums twice in one eternity,” Joshua grumped.

“Mister….H?” Neku croaked.

“J, make him some water.”

Slowly, a sturdy arm pulled Neku to sitting, leaning his body back into something warm, but lacking breath and a pulse. It was too broad to be Joshua, confirmed when the other hand slipped away to take an offered bowl of water.

Hanekoma was in human form again. Human-ish, at least.

“Drink, kiddo.”

“I’m twenty,” Neku protested before coughing up a little blood, realizing that was the first full sentence out of his mouth to the former barista.

“Hey, all humans are kids to me,” Hanekoma laughed. “J, he needs his throat patched up too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joshua whined, leaning forward to place three fingers against Neku’s neck. Immediately, Neku felt a wave of calm wash over, and his throat felt clear. “Now drink, before I whip you up an IV. I can patch you up, but I’m not magically refilling you with lost fluids. I don’t have the brainspace right now for that.”

Neku slowly downed the water, leaning heavily into Hanekoma. “I don’t have the brainspace to brain for at least a week.”

“I don’t think any of us do,” Hanekoma added. “I’m not even sure how I’m back to any kind of sanity as it is.”

Joshua rolled his eyes and refilled the water bowl with a gesture. “Enough of you was sane enough to be worried.”

“You brought a living human as bait, J! Of course I was worried.”

“It worked.”

“That doesn’t make it—” Hanekoma hissed, squeezing Neku’s shoulders a little too hard.

“I missed you,” Neku cut in. “It looked like all of Shibuya did, even though they never knew who you were.”

“Of course they knew,” Hanekoma said gently. “I was the local barista, ready with a good cup ‘o joe. I was the artist that painted the town red.”

“All the Reapers I spoke to had nothing but praise for you,” Neku continued. “I ran all over the city today finding that out.”

Neku felt the single loud thump of a heartbeat from the ethereal body keeping him upright. “Really now?”

“None of them knew you had a connection to the game either,” Neku continued, getting a second wind. “They just praised CAT’s art and WildKat’s coffee.”

“Hmph.”

“Won’t you come back, Sanae?” Joshua asked, a pleading smile on his lips. “It’s been too long.”

“I wish I could, J.”

“What do you mean you wish? You’re an Angel, for Someone’s sake!”

“Er, about that,” Hanekoma said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m… well. I’m not not an angel, I guess. But this is my punishment.”

“You’re definitely under supervision,” Joshua said testily. “Your warden was more annoying than anything else.”

“I take offense to that,” Hanekoma’s voice reverberated through all three of them.

Joshua nearly growled. “You know, you could have skipped the theatrics. If you wanted us gone, you could have Erased us, or just booted us out.”

Neku blinked the last of the daze away. “Hold on. I’m missing something here.”

“Remember how we passed a million billion WildKats and Sanaes and Shibuyas trying to find this place?” Joshua grumbled. “And how Sanae knew what we were doing? Angels have a singular hive mind. Mostly. I’m not actually an Angel, mind you—sort of just a hatchling, an infant. But he’s a real-deal Higher Plane beastie.”

Neku frowned, putting up a finger, lost in thought. Hanekoma went to speak, only for Joshua to shush him.

“Neku’s smart enough to put the pieces together. Give him a moment.”

“I gave him at least a concussion, if not brain damage, J.”

“Which I fixed.”

“The building.” Neku’s face sharpened into a frown.

Joshua and Hanekoma turned their heads to Neku, now sitting upright unassisted as he bopped his finger to his own internal music, slotting what he knew in place. “You said the building was an angel. This building, this whole thing, is this dimension’s Mr. H. All of the other yous are mad at you, aren’t they?”

Hanekoma nodded, exhaling a sigh. “I’m… sort of still an angel. But they cut me off from the Hive and took my inspiration. I can’t leave until I have them back.”

“I’m going to have a word with Management.” Joshua hoisted himself off the shrapnel-pocked floor, stomping a foot. “Elevator, if you please.”

“J, you’re crazy.”

“Aware. So?”

The three heard a ding as a concrete cube rose from the floor, the elevator with it. It opened with a smooth motion, the door already fixed but the interior still caked in paint.

“Am I the hostage negotiator, or can all of us go?” Joshua asked the elevator, irritated, arms crossed and wing-feathers fluffed in annoyance. In response, the elevator ballooned sideways, expanding the interior to accommodate three adults and one massive pair of wings.

“All right,” Joshua sighed out. “Everybody in.”

Xxx

The elevator hummed pleasantly and dinged, opening back up to the pearly-white entryway. The large front doors—triangular shards of crisscrossing stained glass—were blocked off by an aggressive black chain and padlock. A gleaming solid front desk sat at the entryway with a bored Hanekoma flipping lazily through a completely blank magazine. He shot them a grin; Neku noticed he was missing a tooth.

“Ah, hello. Thanks for giving me one heck of a sore throat, J.”

“Can it. I’m busting him out,” Joshua snapped, straight to the point.

Hanekoma put down the magazine, all high-gloss and solid-white pages. “Oh? How?”

Joshua pointed at the door, the chain and lock melting like acid under his gaze. “The front door, how else? Unless you want a few more teeth popped out.”

“That isn’t what I meant, J,” Hanekoma-behind-the-counter said simply. “Your me isn’t an angel right now. You take him out of here and he’s a mortal. I give him a few decades, tops. Stay and he’ll pay his price eventually; won’t you, you sorry excuse for a me?”

Joshua’s Sanae wrung his hands. “I’ll head back up. I did say you didn’t need to come for me, J.”

“If you leave before your sentence is up… you’re mortal?” Joshua asked, his voice cracking a little.

“Yeah, sorry Boss. I’ll take the long way ‘round.”

Neku frowned, scratching at some dried paint on his cheek. “Hang on. What is his sentence exactly? Josh, you said yours was being banned from the RG, but nothing stopped you from letting me see the UG.”

Joshua broke out into a nasty grin. “Ohhhhhhhh Neku, dear. I need to have you get brain damage more often.”

“No,” Neku interjected flatly.

“Aw, it was only a temporary inconvenience. Anyway, Sanae—either of you—what is his exact punishment from the Higher Plane? I want the full contract.”

The glass world’s Sanae slid him the blank magazine. “They were pretty thorough.”

Xxx

When Neku turned his back on the front desk, a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table, all in different shades of blinding alabaster, existed under the overhang just to the side of the entryway. The tinkle of stained-glass-shard rain peppered the overhang roof and a rainbow of garish light streaked in between the storm clouds outside. Joshua lifted his wings, draped them over the back of the sofa, and got to reading.

The only sounds were the tinkling of the rain, Joshua’s ever-ticking watch, and the occasional turn of a page.

Neku tapped his fingers on his jeans. “Can I do anything?”

“No,” muttered Joshua, half in thought flipping through the plain pages.

“Haven’t you done enough?” asked the bored warden, slouching at his desk.

“I could… clean the elevator,” Neku offered, trying to figure out something to do. He was definitely caught in some sort of celestial war, played out in miniature. Everything was over his head right now as he looked sideways to the glass-world Hanekoma. He looked the same as all the others—rolled-up button down, slacks, waistcoat, watch, sandals, sunglasses, messy hair—though he did seem a bit more… shiny, like light was reflecting off of him. Neku didn’t want to consider what it meant for him to both be standing at the front counter as well as being the entire building.

“You’d do that?” the glass angel questioned, confused.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m just standing here. And it’s partially my fault that happened. More so if it’s hurting you.”

“Angels aren’t people, Neku,” he replied, handing him a bucket of soapy water from nowhere. “We don’t feel pain.”

“You’re clearly in pain,” Neku shot back in a whisper after Joshua rustled the magazine loudly, clearing his throat in a way reminding Neku to not disturb him. “Let me help.”

“Help, huh?” The glass Hanekoma smiled, the missing tooth returning to its space after a moment of static. “That’s a new thought.”

“Nobody’s ever helped you before?” Neku asked, concerned, as the elevator dinged and opened. He walked to it, both Sanaes following. One handed the other another bucket, then made one for himself. The three went inside and Neku took to the floor, carefully washing down the carpeting. The door slid closed and the three worked in silence.

“Not me, no,” the glass one admitted. “Not most of us. Angels don’t interact with your kind, or they really aren’t supposed to. I think some of us are jealous of the us from your world.” Another beat of silence. “I know I am.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” Neku asked.

“The other mes would make me a traitor, same as that one.” He jabbed his thumb at his duplicate. “In all honesty, I think it’s better than wasting away with only our own thoughts for company. All of us know it too—only that one said the quiet part out loud. There’s a small and finite number of angels, but an infinite number of each of us. One broken hive is a massive blow to the higher plane—kind of contradictory when you realize we run on Imagination. Think about it for five seconds and—”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Neku cut in, satisfied with the state of the floor, moving on to an aggressive teal spot on the wall. “If you run on Imagination but you’re made up as a ton of fragments that all have to think alike, any dissent and your own self turns on you. Seems a bit counterintuitive to have it that way.”

“The only possible outcome is to break apart from within,” Hanekoma agreed, but Neku wasn’t sure which one of them said it. Inside the elevator, the glass one didn’t have the odd shine he’d had in the foyer. At this point, he wasn’t sure it mattered.

Xxx

Neku and both Hanekoma exited the elevator, Joshua still pouring over the magazine. “They really did try and close every possible loophole,” he muttered. “I can’t see a way out… shy of killing you,” he added, looking up at the two angels. “And now I can’t even tell you apart.”

One of them smiled. “Neku just opened one up for you.”

“Oh?”

“Clause 16b.2.”

“Yes, ‘should the warden be unfit for service, Hanekoma is to serve the remainder of the sentence under a new warden.’ I was going to kill you and claim myself warden.”

“There’s no way the Higher Power would allow that. He’d just be transferred,” the other one said. Joshua raised an eyebrow to the first one—his Hanekoma. He slid his eyes between the two of them and the glass one scratched the back of his neck.

“Sit. I’ll get us something to drink.”

Neku shrugged and practically threw himself into one of the chairs, sighing as he sank into it. It was soft and warm and the light pinging of the rain overhead was lulling him to sleep.

“Stay awake,” Hanekoma ordered, pinching his elbow. “You started going see-through when you passed out last time—it’s what jolted me to consciousness. You aren’t coming all this way just for me to see you fade to nothing, Neku.”

Neku jolted upright, just as a steaming cup of coffee was placed in his hands. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” the glass Hanekoma said, determined. A third settee appeared between the other two; their captor-slash-host sat in it, placing a tray of coffee, tea, and snacks on the table between them. “And anyway, I’m unfit to be Hanekoma’s warden now. The Higher Plane may come for me soon. Though, soon here could be eons off. I know my time doesn’t run at the same pace as most of the other dimensions; that’s why I was picked to watch him. Joshua, they would never accept you under probation, but… Neku—you seem to be a favorite of upper management. Transferring to you shouldn’t be a problem. Hand him the contract, J.”

Neku blinked a bit of the daze from his eyes, downing the beverage. It felt like more than mere coffee, a solid glass of liquid courage, emboldening him.

Joshua hesitated, but passed the blank, glossy magazine sideways to Neku. He then stared down at the tray of offered snacks and carefully picked out a chessboard cookie, frowning at it, before biting the head off the knight’s horse.

Words swirled on the paper in Neku’s peripheral vision before he could see them straight off. “Can I get a translation?” he asked meekly, looking at the mess of block print before him.

“Did I not write it in Japanese?” Glass-Hanekoma asked.

“That’s not what I meant,” Neku sulked. “I can’t read lawyer.”

Joshua craned his neck sideways. “It’s a transferal of ownership contract. Standard language, except… hm. Neku, would you want to be an angel?”

Neku scrunched up his face. “Seeing what you deal with? No. I have enough trouble with artist’s block as it is. I’d rather it not be fatal.”

“Take out paragraphs eight and twenty, then.”

“Wait, this would have…”

“Made you one of us, yeah,” Joshua cut Neku off. “It does mean that if Hanekoma didn’t finish his sentence before you died, he would be mortal; so some sort of transferal clause needs to be added.”

Hanekoma snatched up the magazine, flicking it. “Consider it done. Sign and get out of here before I’m taken away too.” He grinned slyly. “Maybe I can keep the domino chain going. Wouldn’t the upper management just love that?”

Neku flicked his eyes to Joshua. “I still trust you, Josh. How’s it look?”

“We can take him with us. You’re his warden ‘til you die or his sentence is done, then you can renegotiate angelhood if you want.”

“But… what is his sentence?” Neku asked, looking between the now indistinguishable Hanekoma.

“I have to re-earn my Imagination: the human way.”

“No magic?”

“Some magic. About as much as Josh has. Which is a lot compared to you. Very little compared to before. And none at all when I’m not near my warden… though I’m not sure how near near is.”

“Don’t worry about that,” the second Hanekoma said, squeezing the first’s shoulder. “I’ve given you a little extra juice on your way. I’m sure they’ll take mine from me anyway. It’s enough to manifest your wings again, at least. Now get out of here, before there’s bigger problems. All of us is already tattling.”

“Bunch of assholes,” Hanekoma hissed under his breath.

“We both were, too. Well, me at least. Think you were always the black sheep. Now, sign and get.”

Joshua plucked a pen from nowhere, handing it to Neku who turned to the angelic twins. “You trust me?”

“With your life,” both Hanekoma said with a nod.

Neku signed with a flick of his wrist, the pull of slumber taking him again. He could barely hear Hanekoma and Joshua shout something as they hauled him upright at the torso.

With a jerk that felt like someone had tied a rope around his waist and then yanked on it from behind, Neku blinked his eyes open to Hanekoma’s shop, as destroyed as it was when they’d left it. He gasped for breath, completely winded and woozy, the world spinning around him until he succumbed, sliding out of Hanekoma and Joshua’s shared grip to bounce on the cracked tile floor.

Xxx

Hanekoma frowned, flapping feathered wings he forgot he’d missed. “J, you know you can’t throw yourself around the mortals—not like that. Not even to someone like him.” Carefully, Hanekoma pulled Neku out of the rubble, flinging his body over a shoulder. “Be glad he’s just passed out. If he stayed a moment longer in that dimension, he would have been gone. You could have killed him or worse.”

“But I didn’t,” Joshua insisted. “I needed him.”

“Did he know the risks?” Hanekoma asked roughly, finally free to yell at his former boss-and-ward without Neku overhearing. “He didn’t. You never told him.”

“You said in your notes that I’d be a strain on him. He had to know what that meant.”

“There’s a difference in knowing what your toned-down presence would do over a week versus what the full force of your power would do to him in a few hours,” Hanekoma chided. “He may have known the former, but you certainly didn’t tell him the latter.”

“What’s your point?” Joshua asked, watching Hanekoma shift Neku’s unconscious form into a more comfortable carry.

“My point is, stop breaking things, J. Stop treating everything like a broken bone that’s healing the wrong way. Not everything has to be shattered even more to fix it.”

“You were imprisoned by the Angels! All for trying to protect this city!” Joshua protested.

“I would have finished my sentence eventually,” Sanae countered in a calm and even tone. “I may have been in that place for eons, but it was—what? Three years here, maybe?”

“Five,” Joshua whimpered with a pout.

Hanekoma’s eyes flicked up and down Joshua, seemingly searching for something. “I’m putting Neku down in a room and warding it. He needs to recoup.”

Hanekoma turned on his heel to the shop backrooms, leaving Joshua standing confused in the mound of rubble.

Xxx

Whatever Hanekoma was doing, he was taking his sweet time. But Joshua heeded the barista’s words and waited, rolling his shoulders and slowly ratcheting his own wings back into the ether. Bored, he made himself a broom from Imagination and began idly sweeping up the chipped plaster and shattered tile. Eventually, Hanekoma returned to the shop portion of the building, eyeing Joshua.

“Physical labor? That’s a first.”

“I… I feel,” Joshua said, stopping to roll the broom handle in his fingertips. “I feel responsible.”

Hanekoma lowered his shades, peering over them. “Responsible. Who are you and what have you done with J?”

“I grew up, Sanae. Someone had to. You weren’t here. I have a new Conductor and Producer now.”

“What, so I’m outta a job?”

“I’m not kicking you out,” Joshua said, almost pleading. “You just don’t have any obligations. Other than your sentence, I guess.”

“With Neku as my warden,” Hanekoma sighed out. “You didn’t need to plan a jailbreak, J. You’ve waited longer than five years for things before. It’s hardly an eye-blink to people like us.”

Joshua slunk to the floor, defeated and boneless as he slid down the broom handle. A small cloud of debris puffed up around him as he went.

“Drama queen,” Hanekoma tsk’ed as he joined his former colleague on the floor, nesting his wings around himself. “I can’t say this isn’t nice though. Missed ya, J. Being honest, I don’t remember much at all from that place, anyway. Could’ve been a long time there before I became myself again without your little stunt.”

Joshua didn’t answer.

They sat in silence a few moments, then Hanekoma choked back a cry as his coworker—his friend—grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around him just under his wings. Hanekoma flapped them in surprise as Joshua buried his head in the down.

Angel and Reaper wings were their Soul; one didn’t just touch them—not without explicit permission. To touch someone’s wings meant someone else could feel what they did. Feel their joy, their disgust, their pain, or all at once.

Hanekoma didn’t pull away. He could hear—just barely, but it was there—Joshua sobbing silently into his back. Joshua was, for the first time in his so-called-life, showing Hanekoma a vulnerability he didn’t know the other even possessed. Slowly, the barista relaxed both sets of shoulders, taking on more and more of Joshua’s weight until his Composer was literally leaning on him as much as metaphorically.

Seconds ticked away from Joshua’s Pegasso crystal-quartz watch, which turned to minutes, then a solid half hour. Slowly, Hanekoma felt the weight lift.

“You let me,” Joshua said, a bit hoarse, patting the down where wing phased through clothes.

“You needed it, J. Pain shared is pain halved. I was happy to listen.”

“You didn’t want to be saved,” Joshua said sharply. “Forgive me for feeling like you were ungrateful. But… you weren’t. You were protecting me from the angels and a sentence like yours. You were a fall guy.”

“Yes,” Hanekoma said slowly. “I didn’t want you to suffer, too. Not being visible to the RG is hardly a penalty compared to what I have.”

“Pain shared is pain halved,” Joshua threw back at him, wiping snot off his face. If he’d been in his teenage form, he would have looked like just another kid. But Joshua was an ugly crier, and as an adult, he just looked silly—more so with a few errant feathers from Hanekoma’s back stuck to his dripping snot and hair.

“Wash up—the backroom sink works,” Hanekoma insisted, flapping his wings a few times to get rid of any other loose feathers. “I need to do some tidying, anyway.”

Joshua reverently ran his fingers through the shoulder of Hanekoma’s left wing. “Clean the shop all you want; you know all about me and dirt. But leave this part to me.”

Xxx

“I kinda expected more, Sanae.” Joshua leaned in the doorframe, pristine as her always presented himself to the public.

“I’m not exactly going to waste my magic, Boss.” Hanekoma went back to wiping down the countertops with a wet rag. The only change Joshua could see was all the broken furniture piled in a corner, with the floor debris in an equally uncoordinated pile.

“The human way?” Joshua asked with a smirk.

“If I’m not your Producer, I need a little art project to keep me busy.”

“Wouldn’t really call fixing a coffee shop art,” Joshua scoffed.

“It’s not not art, though,” Hanekoma countered, flinging the wet rag on a shoulder and smiling at the dented, but still functional, kettle on the burner, whistling away. “Tea?”

“Mm,” Joshua hummed with a nod. “Also, Neku’s phone was ringing nonstop.” He pulled his own from a pocket. “Oh. It’s past ten PM. Someone’s probably been wondering what happened to him. Least it’s still the same day we left.” Joshua cracked a small smile. “Gone for a week and the mortals think you’re dead or something.”

Hanekoma threw the rag square in Joshua’s face, storming past him to go retrieve the offending cell phone.

Xxx

Hanekoma sat on one of the two useable stools, Joshua behind him on the other, sipping tea from one hand while using the other to pull out stuck feathers. The barista unlocked Neku’s phone, scrolling through twenty missed calls. “Shiki. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“You planning to call?”

“I should. Neku’s probably going to need a day or more to recuperate. And then you’re going to call his mother and let her know he’s sick with a fever.”

“Can’t. RG people can’t perceive me for another few years, remember? Phone calls included.” He grinned toothily. “You’ll just have to clean up the mess for me.”

Hanekoma sighed, stretching out his wings a little so Joshua could pull out all the powder down stuck from his eons of not taking care of himself, and pressed a familiar name in the missed calls history. “Hello? Shiki?”

“Oh my god, is this the police? Where’s Neku?”

“Shiki,” Hanekoma smiled a little, glad for a familiar voice. “It’s… Hanekoma Sanae—the café shop owner on Cat Street.”

Hanekoma waited patiently as Shiki processed what that meant. “If Neku is dead, I’m wringing a long line of necks. Joshua’s first; something tells me this is his fault.”

Joshua laughed hard enough to slam forward into the angel’s back; Sanae shot him a glare. “Neku is alive, but he’s taken a massive hit of Imagination. He’s probably going to sleep a day or two.”

“But he’s alive.”

“Alive and in no pain, with no injury. Mortals just can’t handle being around a city Composer too long.” Hanekoma glared over his shoulder at a snickering young-looking man in a lilac button down.

“I’m coming over there,” Shiki insisted. “And Joshua better be ready to take a knee to the balls.”

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to see or hear him, but hang on,” Hanekoma said, pushing back on the deadweight behind him with his wings. “I’m putting you on speaker. Feel free to yell at him—I already have.”

Hanekoma clicked to speakerphone, maximizing the volume and holding the phone out behind him.

“Go ahead, Shiki. He can hear you.”

Shiki took in a deep breath, expelling a gasp of colorfully laced expletives so pointed Joshua’s hair began to catch fire. The moment she was out of breath, she slammed the end-call button with enough force that Joshua’s wings twitched, even within their aether.

“Josh, you’d better be out of my shop before she gets here or you’re going to be in deep shit.”

“I didn’t realize someone who played the Game before could deal that much splash damage,” Joshua complained, patting out the embers on the edges of his loose curls.

“You were human once yourself, J. Now bolt before she sets all of you on fire.”

“Good night to you too,” Joshua grumped, crossing his arms as he slid off the seat, leaving Hanekoma’s wings in a worse looking state than when he’d started. He saluted awkwardly to the sighing barista, disappearing out into the night.

Xxx

“How are you holding up, kiddo?”

Neku rubbed the crust out of his eyes. “What year is it?”

“Same one you were in before this mess.” Hanekoma smiled. “You slept away three days, though. I impersonated you on the phone to your mom and college—hope that’s alright.”

“So it’s…”

“Monday night. Six PM. Josh’s going to stay away from you for a while.”

“That why I feel like shit?”

“Mhmm. You want me to bring you in some food?”

“Bathroom,” Neku complained.

“Think mine still works.”

“You think?”

“Neku, I’m not human. I’ve never needed it.”

Xxx

“So now what?” Neku bit into his burger; nothing Hanekoma made, but then again, his kitchen was mostly still in shambles.

“I guess I rebuild. Maybe I take some art classes at community college.”

“Then I’m helping.”

“No, you’re-”

Neku glared up from his dinner. “That’s not up for debate. I’m your prison warden, remember? I help and in return, you let me paint in here.”

Hanekoma laughed. “You don’t even need to ask permission for that.”

“Oh, so I can tag every wall, floor, and ceiling in this bombed out husk of a deserted island?”

The barista frowned, leaning forward on the counter. “That didn’t get me any closer to having any inspiration, you know.”

“And I think that’s a lie,” Neku replied, crossing his arms. “Josh didn’t see it either. Maybe the individual components were copies, but that space you made in that other place was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Incredible doesn’t even begin to describe it. Nothing we do is truly unique anyway; we’re always working off the backs of those who came before us. It’s what voice we add to that conversation that makes our art what it is and… I should really be following my own advice. Hang on. I’m making a few calls, and you’re not stopping me.”

Neku pulled out his phone and rolled through his contacts list. “Hey, Sho. I’ve got a destroyed café here ripe for a giant-ass chandelier. You in?”

“Neku,” the other end of the line sounded annoyed. “I don’t do electrical.”

“So? You do the sculpture; I’ll get someone else to wire.”

“It’s going to be made of trash.”

“Why do you think I called your ass? Take notes; here’s the address.”

Xxx

“I haven’t done heavy lifting in… forever,” Hanekoma said, wiping actual sweat off his brow. It was a weird feeling, being sort-of human, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. The past six weeks had been a whirlwind with Neku in charge, directing a steady stream of ethereal beings— self included— into a massive renovation of his shop. The place was an explosion of color and life, an irony in real time to contrast the lack of both on the owner.

“Quit complaining,” Uzuki demanded, hauling the other end of the new bar counter. “If I can get Kariya to lift your tables in, you can help with your own damn high-top.”

“The one you danced on,” Hanekoma said with a grin, looking down at the hot purple and neon orange footprints crisscrossing the acrylic-sealed bar counter. The two had tangoed across a plank, then encased it for eternity in enough two-stage resin that it would never fade—Neku was particularly proud of that collaboration. Uzuki pushed the shop door with her shoulder, so both of them could bring the counter inside.

“—and you don’t need to hold that ladder, Neku.”

“I don’t want you falling,” Neku snapped back, looking up at the Reaper wiring in the shop’s new light fixture. It looked like a vending machine had exploded on the ceiling, and Hanekoma loved it.

“Neku, I can fly,” Triple Seven replied, waving a pair of wire strippers. He was flapping his wings to show those off as well, not that Neku could see them from the RG.

“My masterpiece can’t,” Sho grumbled from the corner, looking on in a mix of horror and awe as Seven worked his stage rigging magic to get the recycled-bottle chandelier hooked into the building’s wiring.

“Look, it’s way easier for me to do this if I’m not trying to balance,” Seven sighed out. “Sho, get up here and hold it in place, so I can finish. Neku, go help do something that doesn’t involve a ceiling or frying yourself on open electricals.”

Sho sighed, stood up, and vanished back into the UG, flapping up to hold the sculpture as Seven jumped off the ladder. Neku winced, unable to see either of them.

“If you can hear me, I’m going to check on Shiki and her friends making chair cushions.” Sho rattled the ladder with his foot, and Neku smiled. “Hey, Mr. H, your shop’s haunted.”

“I’d be more worried if it wasn’t.”

Xxx

“So?” Hanekoma slid a ceramic cup down the acrylic to Neku. “Get your grade back yet?”

“Semester ends in January, Mr. H; it’s gonna be a while yet. How about your magic?”

“While this helped, no. It’ll be a while yet for me too. Can’t complain about the décor, though.”

Hanekoma and Neku grinned, taking in the space. Except for one section of wall painted with chalkboard paint for patrons to go wild doodling on, every square inch of the shop was covered in art altogether dizzying and explosively contrast in design.

“Opens tomorrow, right? My teacher is coming around again to see it.”

“Soft open today though.”

“Sign said closed,” Neku pointed out with his teaspoon.

“Maybe for the living.”

“Ah, a few reapers pass by?” Neku asked with a smile. “Hey, make a bet with you.”

“What?”

“How many days the shop’s open before a paying customer draws a dick on your wall.”

“Zero.”

Neku looked sideways as a handful of change bounced across the counter, Sho coming into view. He downed his already half-drunk coffee and loped to the chalkboard to vandalize it. Neku flicked his eyes at the empty tables and chairs, a massive grin breaking out on his face as every single one was filled in with a Reaper, raising glasses in toast.

“We all needed someplace to stay,” Hanekoma said on the room’s behalf. “Thanks for giving us a home. It’s still pretty broken and lopsided, but I promise we’ll keep the lights on.”

“Mr. H, this was already your home.”

He shook his head. “No, Neku. It was only a shop.”

“If its home, does that mean the drinks are free?” A few reapers turned to the furthest corner of the room—Joshua grinned, sitting backwards in his chair.

“J, what did I say about coming ‘round when Neku’s here?” Hanekoma scolded.

“…Don’t?”

“Short bursts only, lest you want to clean up the exploding brains on the wall.”

Neku shrugged. “It’ll probably add to the ambiance.”

[sadistic-second]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG.

SPEED: What is speed? I’d like to believe things are done as quickly as possible. Written word says that I’m pretty quick about things, 1-3 days tops. But if you’ve ever actually heard be vocalize my “speed” then well. :fingerguns: I’m a lazy piece of shit. So, that being said, depending on motivation levels that I currently possess, that reveals the speed in which I operate things here. But a good baseline is still 1-3 days.

REPLIES: For starters, I use thread tracker for all the threads I currently possess. And if I haven’t replied to something then I sincerely apologize. I am not ignoring you. I either fucked up tracking it (which I’ve done before) or something happened to the tracker itself. I know it had some issues recently. Can’t recall if it got fixed or not, but I know for a fact it fucked some of my replies up. 

On that note, if I have taken longer than seven (7) days to reply to something, hit me up. Let me know. Either the tracker or I fucked up and I need to be told. As stated above, I usually take 1-3 days to reply to things. So if it has been at least that long and you’re still waiting on me for something, chances are the above happened. 

You’d never know it by looking at the lengths of most (all?) my roleplays here, but I am a novella roleplayer at heart. Love me some details, bro. Setting scenes, getting the atmosphere just right, making sure you know for a fact what I’m doing at any given moment. Why? I dunno. That has a story in and of itself that will not be disclosed here. 

But don’t let that discourage you. I am adaptable and I can be flexible to what my partner needs/wants. Will I get carried away sometimes? Absolutely. Do you have to panic and try and match? Not at all. You do you. I’ll do me. We’ll work it out, don’t worry.

STARTERS: Don’t at me, I already know I’m stepping into a baited trap. 

Starters are nice. However, they take time to write and think up. That being said, if I’m writing it, you best believe it's tailored to you specifically. Though I do enjoy at least a basic idea discussion beforehand so I know what direction I’m supposed to take this, I can wing that shit like no tomorrow. Again, not that anyone would know since I haven’t exactly, uh . . . Done it yet. Rest assured, I have the list. I will be doing something eventually. 

You can also tag me in starters if you want. I’ll notice and I’ll get the idea and we can go from there. If it's just something you came up with outta the blue or it's from an ask or whatever, all fine by me. I’m pretty much open to any and all ideas.

INBOX: Ahahah, my inbox. Yes. That motherfucker. Look. I have at least one meme queued for every single day up until the first week of August. Not quite sure what possessed me to do this, but you know. At least you’ll always at least have one thing to choose from to send me every day. Old memes, new memes, random ass shit you just thought of at 3am because you figured I’d like it, send that in. I’ll answer it.

Sure, okay, yeah. I’ve currently got week old memes sitting in there right now. And there are at least month old memes sitting in my drafts that I haven’t posted yet. Doesn’t mean I won’t answer them. Just gotta wait for that good ol’ inspiration to kick in. 

Oh, and I hear Tumblr still eats things. So if you’ve sent me something and its been quite a while and you haven’t seen an answer, chances are I never saw it. I sincerely apologize. Send it again. Send something new. Eventually, I’ll see it. Tumblr can’t eat everything, right?

SELECTIVITY: What is selectivity? I’d write with a sentient stuffed animal if it had a good enough idea. Yes, I’m very aware of what that sounds like. Does that make me any less of a person, a writer, because I said that? Fuck no. I am more than willing to give anyone and everyone a chance provided you aren’t cringey.

Oh but Asher, what does that last bit even mean? Don’t be fucking weird. That’s all I ask. If you’ve got an idea, come to me with it and we’ll work something out. Don’t have an idea? We’ll talk about it. I will roleplay with you. I am by no means selective. 

WISHLIST: OH BOY! A WISHLIST!

Although, I suppose this would be where I’m supposed to give you some semblance of ideas or stories that I would like to give a shot at. :fingerguns: What is creativity? I will admit that I like to spout out about how creative I am and shit. However, put me on the spot and I will go blank and make myself a fucking liar.

I’ll give you some hints though. Love me some angst. I am one angsty boy. Do your absolute worst. It takes a lot to make me feel things and only two people have managed to get me to the point of tears thus far in my Tumblr career. If you think you got what it takes, bring it on.

I’m still exploring Reno’s drug habit(s). So I guess that’s sort of a wish list idea?

I want an excuse to be sadistic. My fucking name is literally sadistic-second and I cannot recall an opportunity in which I have gotten to display that true nature. I think I’ve hinted at it before? I know there are a couple shorts that I’ve written floating around. I think you can find them under “Asher writes” and uh . . . Fuck, what was that other one I wrote recently? “Raw meat” brings it up in the search so there’s that, too.

So those are kind of wish list ideas? I guess? 

HONEST NOTE: :dogekek: Bold of you to assume I have anything else left in me to put here. Nah, but like it was 2am when I wrote this. And you’re seeing it now at whatever the fuck time my queue put it at. Early morning, I know that. 

I’ve done a lot of changing, a lot of growing up in the last year or so. Big life changes happened and well. You gotta adjust or ya kinda sink. And boy did I sink. But I’m back now. I’m better. I’m getting the hang of things once again. 

No, but like what the fuck is supposed to go here? Oh, wait. I have an idea.

You guys want a better way to communicate with me? Ask for my discord. Tumblr messages are great and all, but uh . . . You’re more likely to get more out of me on discord than you are Tumblr. Why? I dunno. I’m always on discord. I’m kind of on Tumblr? Granted, I’m always on both places, but discord is where its at, man.

TAGGED BY: @that-turk-laney

TAGGING: Uh. Steal it, fam

[baby-bearie]

Verus Amor

description: while peter searches for criminals, y/n searches for true love.

a/n: oh my gosh. i have a lot to say before i actually get to the piece. this fic is for @afterglowparker1k writing challenge. this has been one of the greatest writing experiences of my life, and it took forever. three different storylines with multiple drafts of each, and finally this one just took off. i do want to thank a few people, because i went to them when i got stuck:

thank you for putting up with me and being exemplary writers: @seqveydaniel@coolkidcorbyn @katie-avery @cloudsncoffee @dxnielseavey @danieldelicate @jackscorbytch @keepseaveyweird @zachheroin @seaveyssparkle

and to these accounts that even though they don’t know me at all, took time to answer my questions: @naturallytom @starksparker

all of you are such big inspirations

word count: 3, 266

warnings: absolute fluff, language, mentions of violence

 tags: @everybody up there^^ @perfectlyseavey @tempus-ut-luceant @kindparker @5sos-seavey @daniel-darling

“Peter, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up, I will take off these heels and come after you.” Your words were dangerous, but your tone stayed light, hiding a smile and snapping your eyes to Peter’s in the vanity mirror in front of you. He smiled, from his position sitting at the end of your bed. He threw his keys up in the air again before falling back onto your bed, legs still hanging over the edge. You reached for your left-side earring, fastening the backing. 

“I’m just saying, what if his tattoo ends up being, like, a dick or something? Do you really want a dick on you forever?”

“Pete, don’t start on guessing other people’s tattoos until you’ve showed me yours.”

“I just don’t like showing it to people, I told you!”

You reached for your perfume, spritzing it onto your wrist. Your eyes latched onto the imprinted, permanent black and white image of a paper airplane folded into a map. Your hand traced over it and you wondered who, if anyone, wore your tattoo. You had been waiting for your soulmate for all your life. You wanted to meet them, and even if it was supposed to be painful, you couldn’t wait for your second tattoo. Your soulmate’s tattoo. It wasn’t uncommon for someone your age to have not found their love by now, most people only got there when they were nearly 20. But for you, you didn’t even want to stick around after high school. You would take off and travel the world, hence the paper airplane. It really did fit you. 

So if you wouldn’t be able to wait for your soulmate then, you needed to find them now. To prepare yourself, you had managed to memorize the tattoos of every boy you found, for the slightest sliver of a chance that maybe they were the one. But, when six-year-old Y/n asked six-year-old Peter Parker what his tattoo was so that she could write it into her list, his hand flew to his shoulder, and he shouted a “No!”, remembering how his uncle had told him to not show it to anyone, even Peter didn’t know what it meant. You weren’t one to take no for an answer, and continued to bug Peter about it, even if that meant spending almost every second of your time around the boy. You continued to pester him about it for the eleven years you had been his friend. 

“What is your point here, Peter?” 

“That Flash is a dick? And that you shouldn’t go out with him?”

“We’re 17. We’re supposed to find our true love in a couple years. I’m just looking.”

“Flash, though? Really?”

You turn around in your chair, head cocked at Peter, eyebrows raised up in a baffled expression. 

“Yes, really.” You got up and smoothed out your red shirt. You walked past Peter, who sat up. You bent down to kiss his cheek, and he sighed, defeated.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow, lock the door when you leave! Love you!” You called to him as you rushed out the door. Peter heard the door fall shut.

“Not like I do.” Peter sighed and stood, finding himself in your mirror. He lifted his shirt just the slightest and his eyes fixated on the paper airplane crossed with patterns of lines he knew too well. He had memorized them long ago, five days after he met you in the first grade. The day before you finally showed him your tattoo in a desperate bargain to see his, and the day before little Pete realized he had fallen in love with the annoying girl on his playground. Peter dropped his shirt and the reached to scrunch up his sleeve, exposing his shoulder. He stared at the spider, the same one that was splayed across his chest for the world to see every night he wore the suit.

Hiding something like that for two years had been extremely difficult. He would slap away Y/n’s hands quite often and excuse himself by saying his collarbone was hurting. At this point, Y/n was worried for his temperamental collarbone. He refused summer invitations to the pool and the beach. He stopped wearing tank tops, deciding he didn’t want to risk exposing the spider. Peter tugged his sleeve back over his shoulder, eyes moving to meet themselves in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair. His eyes drifted to his own wrist then, catching the small watch. The hands ticked, reading as 5:00. Peter needed to be home by 6:00.      

Really, you weren’t expecting much out of a date with Flash Thompson. He wasn’t the greatest guy ever, and you knew that going into the date. But you had tried nearly every other approach, and by this point you were desperate to find your soulmate, even if that meant reaching for short straws. Half-way through the date, you found yourself getting quite bored. Flash had managed to go for a full hour talking about nothing but himself and how much he hated your best friend. You were sick of it, and nodding along to whatever shit he was blabbering about, you tugged your phone out. Under the table, you shot a text to Peter.

moron: hey pete

idiot: of course

moron: don’t say it

idiot: i told you so

You couldn’t help but smile down at your phone, biting your lip.

“Y/n?” You looked up, noticing Flash looking at you funny, eyebrows quirked expectantly.

“Oh, sorry, where were we?” You forced a smile, and acted interested.

“Like I was saying, I wanted to go for the,”

You let his voice fade out of your senses once again. He didn’t notice, too engrossed in the story of his own accomplishments. You looked back at your phone once he was no longer paying attention.

moron: yeah, yeah. come get me? don’t think i can wait this one out

idiot: can’t, i’ve got some stuff

moron: since when do you have stuff?

idiot: hey, i have a life. it’s for the internship

moron: god damn that internship

idiot: try to get ned to get you?

moron: i already did

idiot: you went to ned before me??

moron: duh, you would’ve been annoying about it. like you’re being right now

idiot: hey, i told you not to go. now you gotta stay

moron: mhm. hate you.

idiot: i know. i’ll text you later

You looked at Flash, now fully regretting coming on this date. There obviously wasn’t any sense of love you could feel. There obviously wasn’t any prickling sensation to go along with the missing butterflies. This obviously wasn’t it. You studied his face, and there were no sparks. His lips were moving, but you had long stopped paying attention to anything that came from them.

“And that’s when I-“Oh my gosh, you know what?” 

You interrupted him, “I think I forgot to throw out a box. You know, can’t procrastinate or it’ll never get done.”

“Oh, uh-“I can walk home, you stay and finish.”

You stood, smoothing your shirt and grabbing your purse. “Uh, well-“Bye, Flash!” You called, the bell jingling behind you as you walked out of the cafe. You had loved that cafe, and now it had been ruined. You wouldn’t be able to step into that cafe without thinking of this date. Wonderful.

Your feet carried you quickly today, almost as quick as the pace of the thoughts rushing in and out of your mind. So, you could definitely cross Flash off of your list. The list was growing shorter and shorter. At this point, you were about to give up hope. Where was he? Where was your true love? You had stressed about this since you were a little girl. You had grown up in a house with two happy, in love parents. They had been an exemplary pair of soulmates, never really losing any ounce of their love for each other. Growing up seeing that, and seeing your older siblings fall in love and get married, you’d always wanted that. You’d always been waiting for that, and at one point decided waiting wasn’t enough.

Now, it was nearly 9. You climbed up the stairs quietly, not really in the mood to tell your parents all about how your date had gone. They were as ready as you were for you to find your soulmate and always became excited whenever you mentioned a new boy.

You opened your room and flicked on the light, flopping backwards onto your bed. You covered your face with your hands and sighed.

“Hey.”

You snapped up, turning to look at Peter, who climbed in through your window. He gave you a weak smile, then winced.

“Peter! You scared me!” You put a hand over your chest and took a deep breath. He sat on your desk.

“So, the date was horrible, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. What was I expecting? It’s Flash.”

Peter laughed, and then winced again.

“Hey, are you okay- oh my gosh, what happened?”

You stood to move to him, pushing down the hood of his hoodie. Your hand found his cheek, running your thumb over the purple bruise. It traveled to his forehead, pushing back his hair and you leaned closer to study the bloody cut starting at his hairline. It moved down to his chin, lifting it up so you could run a finger over his split bottom lip.

Your mouth parted, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “What, did some Stark executive beat you up over there?”

“Uh, not quite?”

You pulled Peter’s hand forcing him to stand up. He was suddenly taller than you, and your eyes followed up, and he looked back down at you. You put your hands on his shoulders, turning him and pushing him to the bathroom. He didn’t resist, walking backwards with you as you guided him. You pushed him into the counter and he hoisted himself up next to the sink. You squatted down, opening the cabinet to grab a box of vaseline and antibiotic ointment. You wet a towel and pressed it to his bruised cheek.

“This happened last week too. You ready to explain?” You muttered, eyes glancing down from the bruise to meet his. He looked away.

“No?” You looked back up to his injuries, backing away. You set down the towel and washed out his cuts.

“I’m not trying to get beat up.”

“Yeah, you’re not trying not to either.”

His hands gripped your hip bones, stopping your frantic searching for wherever the Neosporin was. You stopped and looked at him.

“Hey,” His voice was quiet. His eyes looked up into yours, searching for something. You put your hands on his shoulders, suddenly aware of how close he was to you, trying to create a little bit of distance.

“Did you hear about the guy who got his whole left side cut off?”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, the corners of you mouth ticked up.

“What?”

“He’s alright now.”

You broke into laughter, never able to stay mad at him for long, your head fell to his shoulder before you pulled away and lightly shoved his shoulder. He grinned, grip tightening on you before pulling you closer to him again.

Your laughter faded, leaving just the shadow of a smile. Peter’s smile matched yours, eyes still studying your face like they always did. You took in a deep breath, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his eyes. And then you felt it.

Your stomach was full of butterflies. Peter sat in front of you, looking at you with adoration like he usually did. But this was different. It felt different. His eyes on you felt different and his hands on you felt different. You took a deep breath, nearly gasping for air.

You took a step back, and Peter’s hands dropped from your hips.

“All good to go.”

He didn’t get up quite yet.

“Thank you, Y/n. You really are the best.” He stood, stepping closer to lean down and press a kiss to your cheek. And then he was climbing out the window, turning to look back at you. His mouth opened, as if to say something before he closed it, turning back around and then he was gone.

Your cheeks burned, and you could feel the blush seeping in. You finally got ready for bed, jumping under the covers. After that day, you wanted to sleep as deep as you could. But you couldn’t. 

You laid awake in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

What was that? Were those what butterflies felt like? Why did your cheeks start burning when Peter kissed you? He always did that before he left. So what changed?

“Holy shit,” you whispered. Your eyes widened. “I’m in love with Peter.”

Because of your late night, you had a late morning. You slept through your multiple alarms, rolling out of bed. You jumped up, tripping over the blankets you had brought down with you. With zero care about the events of last night, you ran around your room, grabbing clothes from hangers while your toothbrush hung from your mouth. With 2 minutes to go, you stood in front of your mirror in Peter’s hoodie and black leggings, your immediate lazy outfit. You grabbed a hair tie to put your hair up, and the sleeves of Peter’s hoodie dropped to your elbow. And you saw it. The hair tie lay on the floor, long forgotten as you inspected the ink on the inside of your forearm. 

Your jaw went slack. “Oh my god.” 

There it sat. A spider. A black spider. The spider. You recognized that spider, anyone from New York would recognize that spider. Why was it on you?

Your eyes stared at themselves, realization pooling in them. “Oh my god.”

You yanked the sleeve down, and grabbed your bag, now rushing to school for a different reason. 

“Y/n!”

It wasn’t that you didn’t hear them. You did, but you simply turned and gave them a tight-lipped smile over your shoulder before you kept moving down the hallway, leaving behind your confused friends. Your feet hit the ground repeatedly, beat-up converse making quick thud noises with each step.

And then you saw him.

“Peter!” You called, picking up into a light jog.

Peter turned to face you, closing his locker. He smiled, but it faded into a questioning expression as he took you in, hair a bit tangled and eyes fiery.

You stopped in front of him, a bit out of breath. You took a deep breath in, before pressing your lips together and raising your eyebrows, throwing your hands in the air.

Peter laughed, a little nervously.

“What?”

You grabbed his arm, pulling him into a nearby doorway before you paused and closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Y/n-Ow!” You whacked his arm.

“Seriously?” You spoke, whacking him again.

“Y/n, why- Ow, Y/n, stop!” He jumped, and you whacked him again.

“Spider-man? Really?” You spoke through gritted teeth, your voice low so you wouldn’t alert others around you.

Peter’s eyes widened as you hit him again.

He grabbed your arm as it lifted to hit him again, then taking the second in his hand, clutching both your wrists with his hands.

“Why would you think I’m Spider-man?” Peter laughed, eyes darting off to the side.

You shook your head, giving him a pointed look. “Drop it, spidey-boy. I can tell when you’re lying.”

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, finally meeting your eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You tugged your hands out of his and gasped as whacked him again. You gritted your teeth and whispered. “Peter, enough. I know.”

You stepped back and yanked up your sleeve, revealing the tattoo.

Peter’s eyes got even bigger, reaching for your arm, he inspected it, and then looked back up at you. He took you in all over again. Your eyes burned bright with fury, hair loose and frizzy. Your cheeks were flushed red, and the skin under his hands was warm. You were beautiful.

His smile was light, disbelieving. “This- this is my tattoo.”

You yanked your arm away, hitting him again. “God damn it, Peter, I know that.”

You hit him once more. “You couldn’t have told me you were Spider-man?” Another hit. “Told me why you could never pick me up?” Another hit. “Told me why you were showing up at my house at night all beat up?” Another hit. “You and your stupid fake, shitty internship!”

You looked up at Peter, noticing his stuck expression. A light smile, mouth slightly parted. His eyes looked down at you, and they were filled with such love it made yours full of love too. He took your hands in his, turning over the wrist without the spider, showing you your own tattoo. His thumb rubbed over the small paper airplane, following each dotted line of the map. He looked back at you again, smiling widely now. He let go of you again, folding his arms and stepping back.

“My tattoo’s on you.” He finally spoke, smirking wildly.

You shrugged, rolling your eyes. “Yes. And?”

“You know what that means?”

“No?”

“You love me.”

“Shut up, Peter.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I love you too.”

“Oh my god, Peter, I said- wait, what?”

Peter smiled again, and lifted the hem of his shirt.

“Woah, spidey, not just hey, you can keep your shirt on.”

He rolled his eyes, turning to the side to show you his hip.

You took a step closer, pushing his shirt up and leaning to look. And you recognized it. The folded paper, the dotted lines of a map, it was your tattoo.

You stood straight again and Peter beamed at you. You whacked him.

“You didn’t even tell me you had my tattoo?” Whack. “You knew how hard I was looking for my soulmate, and you knew it was you?”

“Ow- Y/n, calm down!” He stopped you, pushing your arms to your sides.

“No, Peter. I’m mad.” You shook your head.

Peter smiled and raised your chin to look at you.

“Hey. I love you.” He grinned.

You looked away. Peter made you look back at him.

“C’mon, I know you want to say it. Say it.”

You made a face at Peter and sighed.

“Fine, Peter. I love you too.” You tried to hide your smile.

He envelopes you in a big hug, and you wriggled in his arms.

Your voice came out muffled by his jumper.

“Alright, gonna swing me to class, Spidey-Boy?” You squirmed out of his arms and began to walk to your class.

“Boy? Man! Spider-Man! Y/n!”

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Evil Author Day

Hey everyone!! Sorry I’m late. I didn’t know this was a thing until I was already at work for a double today. I’m probably one of the slowest writers on here so I really only have two current WIPs.

This one is “Sky Made of Amethyst” about Luke and Izzy. This was inspired by my many mistakes in romance and esp the most recent one. This is also the fic I told @noshamenion about that features Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin

     "We don't know many girls willing play against us," Tyler told Izzy and she snorted with laughter. Gemma racked the balls and Izzy took the break shot, sinking two immediately. 

"Stripes," she declared smiling sweetly at Tyler. 

"You boys are lucky we're not teamed up against you," Izzy told him and all the guys cracked up. 

They were halfway through their game when Izzy felt her phone blowing up. Gemma heard it too and managed to swipe it from her before she could check it. 

After Gemma made an impossible shot Jamie laughed and threw his hands up, "ok I gotta know how you two became pool sharks." 

"Our first apartment was above the photography studio I worked for and there was this tiny bar down the street with dollar drafts, a jukebox and a couple pool tables. They never checked my ID so we hung out there quite a bit," Izzy told him before calling her shot.

"The owner's wife would often make some kind of meal for the day drinkers. It was usually carnitas, chicken tinga, something like that," Gemma picked up the story when Izzy stopped to get a drink. She paused, rolling her eyes when Tyler missed his shot. "Eyes on the prize ya fuckin bellend," she scolded him, "I'm not trying to lose because you're distracted by her tits, focus man. 

"Anyways," Gemma continued "one of the regulars used to be a pro and he gave us more than a few tips." She called her shot lined up and just barely banked it in.

"Ooh you got lucky there," Izzy teased her.

"Last shot for the win," Gemma proclaimed before hitting it perfectly. 

Izzy laughed, "You're always so competitive Gemma. Next round is guys vs girls though." She lowered her voice and she got closer, "I need my phone back." 

"No you don't," Gemma told her. "Spend time with Jamie, you look so happy and relaxed." 

"So it is Luke," Izzy sighed. "Just give it to me or I'm gonna tie myself in knots wondering."

Gemma sighed and rolled her eyes, "Fine, i think you're making a mistake."

Izzy stepped away from the group, and unlocked her phone by swiping an L.  She instantly saw a flurry of texts from Luke.

Happy birthday baby, I can't believe I missed it. Where are you?

I wanna come see you, baby please. I don't like that you're hanging out with other dudes. I saw him hanging all over you

I saw Vy tagged you on Instagram. So I know you're out tonight.  You're looking good tonight babe, let me show you Iz

I know I fucked up and you're trying to prove a point but don't be like this, 

That's that hockey player from Texas isn't it? The one you said had a girlfriend? So who was lying about that you or him?

Izzy baby, I know you're probably mad but don't be childish and hook up with this guy just to get back at me. We should be past that petty bullshit, I thought we were doing better.

Come on Izzy Why are you ignoring me? Don't be like a bitch, talk to me baby.. You know how much I like you I don't want it to be like this

Vy tagged where you're at so I'm gonna come find my girl. Idk who I gotta deal with, you're not going home with anyone but me

Izzy felt the blood rushing to her face and pounding in her ears. Gemma's voice played in her head on repeat, "selfish, selfish, selfish," as Izzy realized Luke still hadn't apologized. He was, as always, worried he wouldn't get what he wanted rather than putting Izzy's feelings first. If he couldn't make her a priority on her birthday then he never would. 

Don't you dare show up here. I'm not hooking up, I'm having fun, I know you might not understand that concept. We made plans Luke, and you stood me up. For our first "real date" even...ON…. MY….BIRTHDAY. Don't you dare turn around and make me seem like I'm the bad person for going out with my friends. You could've been here with us but you couldn't be bothered. Not only that you haven't even said you're sorry so GET FUCKED!!!

Izzy hit send and went to shove her phone into her dress pocket but almost dropped it because her hands were shaking. Gemma, who'd been watching her, was at her side in a flash, "you ok Izzy? Do you need to get some air? Take a minute?" 

Izzy took a deep breath and looked over where Saul had teamed up with Tyler to take on the other two hockey players. Jamie was next to Vy, cheering from the sidelines while keeping a discreet eye on the two girls. Izzy couldn't help but stare at his strong legs, broad chest and easy smile. 

"I think Luke might have done me a favor really," Izzy swooned and Gemma couldn't agree more, even if she knew her friend didn't entirely mean it. Izzy silenced her phone and handed her it to Gemma. 

"I don't want to be that person tonight. I'm tired of this shit. Hang onto this for awhile, and I'll tell you when I need it back.," Izzy told her, pushing Luke out of her mind as best she could.

She walked back over to Jamie suddenly feeling very shy. Izzy stood off to the side a bit so he leaned down to talk to her, "Are you ok? Do you need to go? Do you want to sit down?"

"No I'm good," Izzy told him.

"Maybe we can talk later, let's see who wins this game then it's girls vs boys right?" Jamie stood behind her and pulled her back into him so she leaned her head against his chest and his arms wrapped around her shoulders. Izzy relaxed into him and he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head making her giggle. 

Gemma took the opportunity to check her own phone.

Maybe we can talk later, let's see who wins this game then it's girls vs boys right?" Jamie stood behind her and pulled her back into him so she leaned her head against his chest and his arms wrapped around her shoulders. Izzy relaxed into him and he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head making her giggle. 

Gemma took the opportunity to check her own phone.

Looks like we're both on babysitting duty tonight, you with Izzy and me with Luke. I hope Izzy is having more fun. Luke is an absolute mess.

Good! He fucking deserves this, I'm sorry your night is going to shit, but I've got no sympathy for him.

He wants me to bring him to Tia's so he can talk to Izzy, but those are some pretty big dudes hanging with you guys, even I feel a bit threatened.

Hahaha don't... I'm having fun and kicking ass at pool but I wish you were here. I'll definitely be by later so wait up

Oh trust me darling, I plan on fucking you until you forget how to spell hockey

Ooh you're so cute when you're jealous

Well you're cute all the time so I gotta keep my guard up. At least until everyone knows about us

Patience sweetheart, I gotta go play but please don't bring Luke here. I will personally beat his ass and then have sex with you next to the broken hull that was once his body.

"Whatcha doing," a voice behind her made her jump.

Gemma spun around to see Tyler with a smirk, "you gotta quit doing that," she scolded him.

"Not a chance," he laughed before his face went serious. "I don't want to be nosy, but what's the deal with Izzy? She's mad at her boyfriend and Jamie is revenge? I hope that's not what this is, she seems like a nice girl…"

"So why are you in their business?" Gemma snapped. "Jamie is a big boy, can't he handle himself?" 

"Ok listen," Tyler hissed back. "He's very very recently single, in fact we're here in part for this charity event and partly because Lily's moving out of his house this week." Gemma was taken aback and he softened his tone. " He's still hurting and dealing with a lot of shit, but I think he likes Izzy. I'd hate for him to get led on if she's already got a man."

Gemma rubbed her temples, "she doesn't have a man, she has a Luke. A selfish prick who stood her up on her birthday after making a big deal out of making plans. Maybe both of them just need to be around someone who knows what they're dealing with."

@maluminspace @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @sexgodashton @irwinkitten @angelbabylu @dammitbands @tea4sykes @sublimehood

[softeddiek]

so @aryaofoldstones answered this ask awhile ago about gendrya’s favorite fast food place and, as a Sonic fan, i loved their answer (tags included) and ended up writing about some of it??

so modern gendrya first date au 

read on ao3 

i’ve got a hunger, twisting my stomach into knots 

Arya is standing in front of her full-length mirror tugging at the bottom of her shirt when, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bran wheeling himself into her doorway.

“Sansa’s going to call and order us some pizza. Want your usual?” he grins, thinking she’ll request her own box of sausage and mushroom that nobody else will eat. But not tonight.

“No, I’m going out for dinner actually, but thanks,” she answers, turning her head back toward her reflection.

She can still feel his eyes on her and hears the confusion in his voice when he asks, “Out? Like, with someone else?”

“Just with Gendry.”

She’s turning toward her bedside table, reaching for her phone to see if he’s texted her to let her know he’s here, when she realizes she hasn’t heard the telltale sound of Bran’s wheelchair rolling away on the hardwood floors of the hallway.

“So, like on a date?”  

She whips her head around to see a shit-eating grin on Bran’s face. “You and Gendry are going on a date,” he states this time, pleased to have figured it out. Or to think he’s figured it out, because even if Bran would likely be cool about this sort of thing, no way in hell is she going to let him blabber on about her and Gendry and dates to their siblings.

And yeah so, maybe the past few weeks all she’s really had to go off of was the way things between her and Gendry had started to feel…different, but when she’d agreed to grab dinner with him tonight—something they did frequently—he had actually looked her in the eyes and said “Great, it’s a date then.” So really, it was a date. But again, Bran couldn’t know that.

“A date?” she scoffs, “Very funny Bran, I don’t know how you came up with that. Gendry and I go out for food all of the time.”

“Yeah but this is different. I can just tell.”

“Oh please,” she says, rolling her eyes, “don’t even start with that intuition shit again. We’re just going out for food. Like we always do.” If the raised eyebrow he gives her says anything, it’s that he sees right through her. “Sonic,” she blurts out. “We’re going to get Sonic. Now tell me that’s somewhere you go on a date.” That should do it.

“Arya,” he starts, a quizzical look forming on his face, “you guys love Sonic.”

She can feel the heat creeping up her cheeks and is preparing to defend herself by trashing her favorite drive-in when she hears the front door opening, accompanied by voices carrying up to her bedroom.

Deciding to use this as her out, she turns back around quickly to pocket her phone and slips into a pair of shoes lying at the foot of her bed.

“Bye Bran enjoy the pizza,” she says, edging around where he still sits in her doorway. She takes the stairs down two at a time, coming to an abrupt stop at the foot of them when she sees Gendry in her living room. Gendry in her living room having a conversation with Rickon.

Despite having been friends with Gendry for years, she can count the number of times he’d been inside of her house on one hand. At first, there hadn’t been a reason for them to hang out at her house. She’d met him and their other friends, Lommy and Hot Pie, in the park downtown a few blocks from her school. She’d asked to join them on the basketball court where they were messing around with a ball. Lommy and Hot Pie hadn’t been too thrilled to let a girl join them, but after some terse words from both herself and Gendry, they relented. After that, it had just become sort of a routine to meet up with them at the park after school each day.

Eventually though, Lommy moved away and Hot Pie had had to start helping out in his parents’ bakery after school, so it was usually just Gendry she’d meet up with when he wasn’t trying to pick up shifts at his new job. When she finally started attending the high school he went to along with Sansa and Jon, he’d been surprised to find out she was a Stark. (How it took that long to find out her last name, she didn’t know.)

He continued acting strange around her for a few weeks until one day when Jon was away visiting his sick uncle Aemon and Arya had no way of getting home after school. Sansa usually got a ride from her friend Margaery, but she wasn’t in the mood to ride with them, so she went to Gendry. He’d reluctantly agreed to drive her home in his beat-up old pickup. With plenty to tell him about her first few weeks of high school, things between them seemed to have gone back to normal as they talked on the ride there. Until they reached her house.

She’d invited him inside to play some video games, not picking up on the wary looks he was shooting her as she all but dragged him through the door. As he stood in their front living room, taking in the ostentatious furniture her mother had it decorated with at the time, his brow had begun to furrow, and a frown formed on his face.

“I gotta get going, actually. My mom’s expecting me home.” He turned quickly to rush out the door, ignoring Arya’s shouts behind him until she’d caught up just as he was reaching for the driver’s side door, grabbing onto his arm to turn him around.

“What’s going on, why are you leaving?” she’d asked.

“I already told you,” he’d said, eyes looking at everything but her, “I’m expected home soon.”

“No, you aren’t,” she chanced. “So why are you being a dick Gendry?”

He looked up at her with a scowl. “I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are, so just tell me why so we can move past it because you’ve been weird for weeks now.”

He looked at her for a minute, face betraying nothing, until finally, seeing she wouldn’t leave it alone, his resolve broke. Sighing, he’d said, “You’re rich, Arya. Like, really rich.”

“Technically, my parents are rich--.” She stopped at the look on Gendry’s face that seemed to say, ‘Are you serious?’ “Okay, my family is rich. So what?”

“So, you’re rich and practically live in a mansion. My mom and I live in a run-down, one-bedroom apartment. I just don’t get why we’d be friends is all.”

She’d tried not to let the hurt show on her face, but at his guilty look she’d known she hadn’t succeeded. “We’re friends because we like hanging out together,” she’d supplied. “I don’t care about that kind of thing; I never have, and you should know that seeing as we’ve been best friends for years.”

After a bit more cajoling on Arya’s part, he’d relented and gone back inside with her, but she noticed his discomfort the rest of the afternoon. She had thrown out the occasional casual invitation to come over the last few years, but she could only be shrugged off so many times before she stopped asking.

And it’s not like he has a phobia of her house or anything. Once Jon had graduated with his AA and transferred down to King’s Landing to finish his Bachelors, Gendry had taken to picking her up after school. They’d usually grab some food to take back to the shop while he worked the last couple hours of his shift, and then he’d drive her home. He rarely ever came inside though.

But now, here he was, perched on the edge of the couch having a conversation with Rickon. Or, listening to Rickon.

“And the Direwolves drafted Margaery’s brother, Loras, from Storm’s End two years ago because he led them to the Final Four, but he tore his ACL in his second game with us and sat out basically his whole rookie season and just hasn’t been the same since he came back. Arya thinks we should put him in some kind of trade package and send him to the Riverlands, but I think that’s just because she didn’t like him when Margaery introduced them.”

Gendry’s head is nodding as Rickon speaks, but she knows he has no clue what Rickon’s talking about. They may have met on a basketball court, but Gendry was too big and clumsy to seriously play, and he never had the time to watch professional games with her.

“I don’t like Loras because he thinks he’s the next Arthur Dayne,” she pipes up, moving from her spot at the bottom of the stairs to stand behind the couch they’re sitting on, “but he has none of the defensive skill and his handles are trash.” Gendry is grinning up at her now. “You’re right though, he did piss me off the first time we met,” she adds.

“Hey Arya. You ready to go?” Gendry asks, still smiling.

“Go? Where are you guys going, Sansa’s ordering pizza and Bran and I were going to play Smash,” Rickon interjects, a small frown on his lips.  

“They’re going to get Sonic instead,” Bran’s voice calls out across the room from the bottom of his wheelchair ramp.

Gendry glances over at Arya confused, while she and Bran hold each other’s stares.

“Oh, can you guys pick me up that new Red Bull slushie they have? I’ve been wanting to try it, but Mom won’t let me,” Rickon pleads.

Arya glances at Gendry out of the corner of her eye before fumbling for a response. “Umm, actually Rickon, I don’t think—”

“Hey Rick, I forgot to tell Sansa you want cheese bread, and she’s placing the order right now,” Bran interrupts, saving her from the mess he made.

“Oh shit,” her brother exclaims, jumping up off the couch and darting into the kitchen.

Bran starts following him, only looking back at Arya’s icy glare once to call out, “Have fun guys!”

Gendry, now off the couch and standing at her side, is rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, keys in the other. “I’m guessing Bran knows about our…us?”

He hadn’t used the word date and not quite wanting to ask for clarification—especially when her siblings are still in the other room and she knows, just knows, that if Sansa were to come and see them, she’d know exactly what was going on—she just nods her affirmation.

“Let’s get going,” she says, heading for the door.

His truck is sitting in their circular driveway, parked in the spot it usually is when he drops her off. She’s reaching for the door handle, but he beats her to it, his arm reaching out in front of her, chest lightly brushing her back. She lets him open it for her and slides into the cab of the truck. When she looks over as he’s shutting the door, she sees a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Okay, this is definitely a date. One hundred percent a date. As much as she had made fun of Sansa for combing over magazines for relationship advice over the years, she’d still listened to some of the things she went on about. And in this moment, she can hear her sister’s voice saying, “A gentlemen always opens doors for a lady, Arya. It’s just proper date etiquette.” She always thought that was dumb—because yeah, it’s nice and polite, but she doesn’t want anyone to open a door for her just because she’s a girl—and Gendry doesn’t just regularly open doors for her.

“Thanks,” she mumbles out.

He’s slid into his side of the cab and taken a deep breath when he looks over at her and says, “So. Sonic?” She can hear the confusion in his voice. They hadn’t really discussed it before, only agreed to get dinner, but if that’s how Bran’s going to spin it to her family, they might as well. And besides, Bran was right, they do frequently pick it up to take it back to the shop with them, they’ve just never actually pulled in to eat because that would be so, well, date-like.

“Yeah, I mean. That works. I could really go for a slushie right now.”

He cracks a smile at that. “Can’t you always?” She grins back at him as he starts his truck, slowly pulling out of the driveway.

Sonic is only about a fifteen-minute ride from her house, closer to Gendry’s side of town, but now, only a few minutes in, the silence is beginning to become oppressive. His fingers are tapping on the steering wheel, whether to an imaginary beat or out of nerves, she isn’t sure. She reaches forward to turn on the radio, messing with the dial until it lands on a station she enjoys, and he tolerates. She hums along to the radio under her breath for a little while and, from the corner of her eye, can see the tension slowly start to seep out of his shoulders.

Gendry’s never been much of a talker. His surly looks and generally shy personality tend to put people off, and that’s just how he likes it. Arya on the other hand loves talking to people, always has. Her parents’ friends had taken to calling her Arya Underfoot as a child because at their big fancy holiday parties she could always be found darting around the room, catching snippets of conversations, before taking off to see whatever else caught her fancy.

But just because Gendry didn’t love holding long, drawn-out conversations, that didn’t mean he’d been exempt from holding them with Arya. And, seemingly quickly, he became comfortable with that. So, this was just weird. Just because this could now be classified as a date and not just the two of them hanging out, didn’t mean there was a reason for either one of them to be this nervous, right? One of them needed to speak.

“How was Tobho’s today?” Good, that’s a safe question. Gendry loves talking about the auto shop he works at and she knows he had a heavy workload today, even going so far as to seeing if she could get Sansa, who was home from school for the weekend, to pick her up after classes.

He looks over at her then—for the first time since they pulled away from her house—and the relief she sees on his face is practically palpable.

“Great actually. You know how I said that old rich guy, Lannister, was being an ass about me working on his car, had all these stupid ‘rules’ and stuff?” She nods her head with a scowl, thinking about the family her Uncle Robert had married into. “Well apparently he actually thought I did a good job on his car and gave me a decent tip. I mean,” he scoffs, “not like it’s much to him. With a car like that, the man probably shits gold.”

He continues talking about his day and all of the technical aspects of what he worked on, with Arya only slightly struggling to keep up—she has spent most afternoons after school at the shop for a few years now, after all—and the rest of the ride flies by.

As they pull into Sonic, they’re busy laughing about that time Arya was sitting inside a car at the shop and accidentally blew on the horn, not knowing that his coworker, Lem, was working on it. She surprised him so badly that he jumped up and nearly broke his nose on the hood.

When her laughter dies down, she notices only a handful of the drive-in spots are taken and a few people are sitting at the tables outside. He pulls into an open space near the middle.

“Do you know what you want,” he asks, looking over at her.

“Umm…a large watermelon slushie with Nerds and some fries.”

Face scrunched up and laughing, Gendry says, “A slushie with Nerds? That’s so gross Arry.” She sticks her tongue out as him as he leans forward out of his window to press the button to order.

A vaguely familiar voice crackles out of the speaker, asking to take their order. “Yeah, can I get a large watermelon slushie, with Nerds,” he pauses, looking over at her for dramatic effect, “a large order of fries, a bacon double cheeseburger, a corndog, a large Coke, and umm, some onion rings, and an order of chili cheese tots?”

He’s fumbling for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and listening to the voice rattle the order off back to him, not noticing the incredulous look she’s shooting him.

“What?” he questions, when he finally looks over.

“I’m sorry, is Hot Pie in the bed of the tuck and you just forgot to tell me?”

“I missed lunch,” he grumbles out. “And besides, I told you I got a big tip today. Might as well spend it on something, right?”

“Gendry, I can pay for my half, you don’t have to—”

“Arya,” he cuts her off, giving her a familiar look, one that says, ‘Don’t argue’. They usually alternate paying for food that they pick up and she knows for a fact that he paid for their McDonald’s the other day. But she knows how self-conscious he gets about money. As much as she doesn’t want him to have to spend his hard-earned tip on their food, she knows that talking about it anymore will only make him crabby. Besides, this is a date, right? Dates are allowed to want to pay for each other’s food.

“Fine, but I’ll get it next time.”

“Sure,” he says around a smile, knowing she doesn’t just mean the next time they hang out at the shop. “Next time.”

They grin at each other for a minute, the air around them silent but for the sound of the radio outside playing some song that she can vaguely identify as being sung by Bruce Springsteen and the occasional sound of roller skates on the asphalt. As goofy as she knows her smile is and as much as she would normally call this moment a cliché, she can’t find it in herself to care, what with the feeling of Gendry’s blue eyes on her and knowing that she’s the reason for his wide grin.

“So,” he begins, “how was school today?”

“Pretty good actually,” she starts, thinking on it. “I found out I got an A on my Braavosi test. Mr. Terys said that when I go to college, I should take a Pentoshi class for my foreign language credit since they’re pretty similar. And then, in drama, Ms. Sand announced that we’re going to be doing Antigone for our spring show, which I personally think is way too much for us to handle but she loves her tragedies.”

“Is she the one that was dating the chemistry teacher a few years back?”

“Mr. Martell, yeah. I think they’re off-again right now,” she muses, “she’s been having us perform lots of sad monologues in class.”

“So, are you going to audition?”

“Oh yeah. There aren’t a lot of speaking roles or female roles, but Ms. Sand always gives preference to seniors for leads, so I think I have a pretty good shot.”

He’s opening his mouth to say something when they both spot someone on a pair of roller skates in the rearview mirror headed their way. When they pull to a stop by Gendry’s rolled down window, greeting them with their order and the total, Arya realizes why she recognized the voice on the speaker.

“…and one large Coke,” she finishes off, taking payment from Gendry. It’s when she looks up to begin handing them their order that she notices Arya in the passenger seat. “Arya, hi!” she says, complete with a friendly smile.

“Hey Brea. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, the waters are too cold right now for me to stay busy working with Dad, so I applied here for some extra cash.” Arya nods at this, vaguely remembering Brea’s dad being involved in deep sea fishing or something like that. “Who’s this?” she asks, giving Gendry an appreciative look.

“Gendry,” he grunts out, more focused on the food they have yet to be given than the sly glance she’s sending Arya.

“Oh, so you’re Gendry?” She lets out a giggle that gets his attention. Arya narrows her eyes at Brea, confused. She’s mentioned Gendry to Brea in passing, he’s her best friend, how could she not? But she hadn’t said anything that would warrant the giggle and the knowing look Brea now wears.

“Yeah,” he draws out suspiciously, looking between the two girls. “Think we can get our food now?”

“Of course!” She begins handing Gendry the outrageous amount of food—a bemused expression forming as she realizes that all of this seems to be for them—while he sets it down in some pseudo-picnic style on the stretch of seat in between them.

“See you around Arya,” she says after collecting the money, skating away with ease.

Gendry thrusts her slushie into her outstretched hand. Arya expects him to ask about Brea, but when she’s done poking her straw into her drink and looks at him, he’s already shoveling onion rings and a few of her fries into his mouth while one-handedly trying to pull his burger out of the slip of foil.

“You know,” she starts, “the meat’s already dead Gendry. I don’t think your burger is going to be running away anytime soon.”

He gives a dry laugh and sends a deadpan look her way, where she’s smirking around her straw. “Don’t know how you drink those things.” He nods toward her. “They sound toxic, pure sugar,” he says loftily, nose pointing in the air.

“Oh please, don’t act like you didn’t only stop ordering them because you always get a major brain freeze.”

He pouts at that for a minute before biting enthusiastically into his burger. After swallowing his bite and taking a large gulp of his Coke he says, “Do you know what night your play will open? I wanna make sure I let Tobho know in advance I’ll be needing to leave work early that day.” Gendry’s boss often has him stay later in the spring, when daylight is easier to come by. Opening night is bound to be on a Friday, and while Gendry always come to see her performances at some point during their run, she doesn’t want him missing out on work opportunities because of it.

“Oh no,” she says quickly, “you can just go on the weekend or something, I don’t want you missing work because of me. Besides, I might not even get a part.”

He chews thoughtfully on his corndog for a moment. “But if you don’t, you’ll still be doing tech, right?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Then I’ll be there opening night. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Okay,” she says, ducking her head to hide her small smile, under the pretense of trying to drink her slushie.

Their conversation moves onto other topics—Gendry’s coworker, Harmon, who’d just been fired; a new scone recipe that Hot Pie had been using them as taste-testing guinea pigs for; the new single from that terrible alt-rock band, The Brotherhood, that Gendry likes. Before she knows it, Arya’s reaching for her slushie again, only to be met with the sound of her straw sucking up air. Eyebrows furrowing, she looks at the stretch of seat between them only to see that Gendry’s managed to finish all of his food.

He has a hand rubbing the back of his neck and is looking at the clock on the dash that says they’ve been parked for at least an hour and a half. “Guess we’ve been here a little while, huh?” It’s really not all that late for a Friday night, but she knows her parents will be getting home from their night out soon and she’s not ready to have a conversation about her and Gendry with her mother just yet. Or her father.

“Yeah, I probably need to get back soon,” she reluctantly replies.

“Yeah of course.” He gathers up the wrappers and trash littering the seat (and really, it’s an awful lot) along with Arya’s empty slushie cup and hops out to toss it all in the trash can.

Buckling up, she starts thinking about how the night had gone. Things had definitely been flirty, but that had been happening more and more lately. Really it hadn’t been any different than any other time they’d hung out. But did that just mean that they were comfortable around each other or had this not actually ended up being a date? Going to Sonic wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for them, so what if, by suggesting they go there, he thought that she didn’t think this was a date? By the time he’s made the short walk back to the truck, Arya’s head is swimming.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she chokes out, a strained smile on her face. He gives her a quizzical look and, sensing his confusion, she attempts to make it more genuine. It seems to work because his eyes only linger on her for a second longer before he starts to back out.

Luckily for her, Gendry’s chosen the drive home to vent about his mom’s newest boyfriend, which requires little response on her part.

“And he’s just so boring, you know? He’s always trying to talk to me about golf, as if I’ve ever golfed in my life. Oh, and don’t even getting me started on how often I’ve caught them making out on the couch—my couch! The one I slept on the whole time I lived there—”

Oh shit. All of a sudden it’s no longer Gendry’s diatribe she’s hearing, but her sister’s high pitched, fourteen year old voice as she reads, “And at the end of the date, a gentleman will walk a lady to her door and, should the date have gone well and she seem receptive, give her a chaste kiss on the lips.” While Arya is sure she said something snarky at the time about the magazine being shit, even she knows that people usually kiss at the end of dates. And while she’s certainly been thinking about kissing Gendry (a lot), thinking about it and actually being in a situation where she can, are two totally different things.

Wanting to steer clear of this train of thought, she decides to jump into Gendry’s rant before he gives himself an ulcer. “But she really likes him, right?”

He stops his sentence short. “Well, yeah, but she’s liked all of the other guys too, and you know how those all turned out.” While Arya wouldn’t categorize Ms. Waters as a serial dater, Gendry is right in saying that the past few men she’s dated haven’t had the winningest personalities.  

“Didn’t you say he had a steady job though? Something in an office with a salary?”

He hesitates. “Yeah. But he just seems…like he’s trying too hard.”

“Better to try too hard than to not try at all, right? Maybe you should give this one a chance. I’m not saying don’t be cautious, especially with how a lot of the last guys turned out. But she’s an adult and she’ll want you to trust her judgement. And it won’t do her any good if she thinks you already don’t like this guy right away.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “I guess you’re right, I should at least try.” There’s a brief silence before he starts again. “And maybe,” he pauses, sending her a sly, sideways glance “you could teach me a little about golf?”

“Wait, what? I don’t know anything about golf.”

“Then Bran was lying when he said your mother sent you and him to some fancy golf summer camp when you were kids?” he asks.

Her face is heating up furiously. “How long have you known about that?”

He shrugs. “Awhile now. I’ve been waiting for the opportune time to bring it up.”

He’s laughing at the scowl on her face, managing to get her to crack a smile, when they pull into her driveway. When the truck is in park, they both sit in their seats, hesitating. She’s scrambling for something to say, but he saves her when he quickly jumps out and jogs around to her side of the truck, opening up the door.

Suddenly nervous again, all she can manage is a mumbled thanks as she trails alongside him to her front door. They stop on her stoop.

This is it. The moment of truth. Only he’s just standing there, staring at her, his face looking a bit washed out under the harsh porch light.

“Are you alright Gendry? You’re looking a bit queasy. Few too many onion rings?” She jokes. He lets out a small chuckle with her, tentative smile on his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted to say umm,” he clears his throat, “I had a good time tonight. With you. I mean, I always have a good time with you. Hanging out. But a date is a bit more than hanging out, isn’t it? I mean, it felt like hanging out though. Which is good. That is good, isn’t it? God, I’m shit at this.” He rushes this all out, shaking his head when he’s finished, and Arya honestly doesn’t think she’s ever heard him this tongue-tied and nervous before. She’s trying not to let a laugh slip out, what with how distressed he looks, when it hits her that he finally called this a date again. And that’s all she needed.

If anyone were to ask her later, she would definitely deny that she ever had any doubts that this was a date. And how could she have? She and Gendry just worked, of course they would end up dating. She would, however, agree that she had broken the cardinal rule in Sansa’s teen magazines and initiated their first kiss. And it was anything but chaste.

Gendry’s hands have managed to wander to her hips, holding her flush against him, her left hand has found itself tangled in his hair while her right is pressed against his chest. As he slips his tongue in between her lips, brushing it against hers, all she can think of is how she was completely right that kissing Gendry and thinking about kissing Gendry are two totally different things—actually doing it is way better.

They break apart for air, both smiling breathlessly at each other, when they hear footsteps approaching the other side of the door. She takes a step back from Gendry while his hands drop from her waist immediately.

When the door opens, Rickon is standing in front of them, eyes narrowed in suspicion. After staring at them for a moment, “Did you guys get my slushie?”

“They were all out of uh, Red Bull,” Gendry lies.

He stares at them a moment longer, eyes shifting between them both as if ready to call them out on the lie, before his face relaxes.

“Alright. Well we ordered a lot of extra pizza incase you guys were both still hungry.” The idea of Gendry still being hungry almost makes her laugh. “You coming in Gendry?”

He glances over at Arya, as if silently communicating with her that he agrees that they’d be grilled by Sansa and have to deal with Bran sneaking little jokes about them into conversation, and says, “Thanks Rickon, but I ate a lot actually.” Then, turning towards Arya, looking significantly less apprehensive than before they kissed, “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Of course. I’ll text you.” She’ll have to remember to bring up the door opening thing.

He moves forward, as if to give her one last kiss goodbye, before realizing their audience. Playing it off with a quick squeeze to her arm, he gives her and Rickon a nod and a goodnight before walking back to his truck.

She watches him start his truck and pull out, feeling Rickon’s gaze on her neck. She sighs heavily, already knowing he’s figured it out, and turns around.

“So, you and Gendry huh?” He looks curious, less smug than she’d expected.  

“Yes,” she answers, no hesitation.

He nods thoughtfully for a second. “Tell you what. You get me my slushie next time you’re out, and I’ll tell Sansa and Mom that Gendry just dropped you off like usual if they ask. Deal?”

She cracks a smile. “Deal.”

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 11)

Rayna

Arthur helps reader get back what’s hers and Dutch gets a little agitated. Little bit of violence in this one.

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

After riding aimlessly for a while we passed by a freshwater stream and Arthur wanted to stop to fill up his canteen. I dismounted too, coming to kneel by the water's edge, cupping handfuls to sip from. The two of us had sobered up a fair bit, only a little wobbly on our feet. Arthur finished filling up his canteen, guzzling some down; I sensed him looking at me. He nudged my arm with the canteen, offering it to me. I shook my hands dry and took it, drinking from it was far more satisfactory than anything I managed to get from my hands.

"We need to get you a canteen, it's a bad idea going out without one," he said, watching me drink. I finished off the bottle, then filled it back up for him before handing it back.

"I know, just one of the many things I lost."

Arthur bent over, splashing his face with water, wiping it around the back of his neck to cool off. It was a hot day, and I unfastened the top few buttons of my shirt, pulling on it to waft some air back and forth. The crown of my head burned under the sun and I put a hand to it, feeling the heat of my hair and grimacing.

"That and a hat," I added.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I've got an extra hat on my horse," he said turning and staggering up to his feet, still a little off balance. He retrieved a hat from one of his saddlebags and tossed it to me so it glided through the air in a spin. I caught it before it could go in the stream and put it on, sighing with the relief it brought.

"Ahh, thank you," I said and he returned to me, sitting down beside me. I jumped when I felt his fingers on my chin, turning my head to him. My face must've been a picture, but he was just staring at my cheeks.

"I should've given you that sooner, you've caught the sun," he told me, and I pulled my chin out of his grip so I could look away. He was already focusing on the redness in my face, and I could tell it was getting redder for a different reason. Arthur let his arm drop, but he didn't stop looking at me. "You look good in my hat," he said rather suddenly.

I looked at him; the hair surrounding his face was wet and sticking to his forehead from where he'd splashed it, poking out from under his hat. The front of his shirt was damp with sweat, under his arms too. He was closer to me than I thought and I could really get a look at him, noticing the creases under his eyes, the scruff of his stubble, the slight puffiness of his bottom lip where there was an almost healed cut. Arthur had a way of looking both youthful and mature at the same time and I couldn't quite pin down how old he was, just that he was older than me.

"You look good… in your hat… too," I mumbled, not at all thinking about what I was saying and only realising what was coming out of my mouth once it was too late. "Oh my– forgive me. Hot days, whiskey and me never did mix well."

Arthur tilted his head down so the brim of his hat covered his face, but I could see his shoulders moving with laughter.

"There you go, laughing at me again," I said, swatting his arm.

"It ain't out of malice," he shook his head, looking up at me and showing me the amusement on his face.

"I'm sure it ain't," I shook my head.

"You're a funny lady. You're smart and capable and yet you…"

"What?"

"You care so much about what people think," he pointed out. I didn't deny it and he smiled kindly at me. "You're real nervous around folk, ain't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" I laughed awkwardly, looking down and fiddling with the grass beneath us.

"Don't you worry, it's sort of charming," he admitted, his eyes exploring my face a little, flicking down to my lips before meeting my eyes again. When I didn't respond, Arthur cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"Emerald Ranch, you reckon that's where your horse could be?"

"Oh, yes I think so," I nodded.

"What's she look like? I've gotta meet Hosea there for something, I'll keep an eye out."

"She's an Ardennes. Creamy coloured, mostly, but her head and legs are a reddish brown. Same colour as her mane. She ain't got much of a tail, the family we bought her from had docked her. She was a draft horse."

"No tail. Well, that narrows it down a little," he nodded. "I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you," I told him sincerely.

"Or…" he started, pursing his lips in thought. "How about we go over there now?"

"Now? Half drunk?" I stared at him in disbelief.

"We're sober enough to have a look around, we don't need to do nothing."

"Well," I looked down and considered it for a moment. "Alright. Yes, let's do it."

He rose to his feet and held his hands out to me, pulling me upright with him. He didn't seem to mind when my momentum carried me forwards, and I fell into his chest. He simply righted me on my feet, and headed for his horse.

-

Perhaps the adrenaline had pumped the alcohol through my liver much faster than normal, but I felt unusually sober by the time we rode into Emerald Ranch. My eyes were darting all over the place and locking onto any moving creature larger than a dog, searching for Rayna. I doubted we'd be lucky enough to stroll past her on the road, but I kept my eyes peeled anyway.

We rode through the small settlement – the air ripe with the smell of farm animals – passing mainly pens of sheep and pigs. Arthur decided to pull off of the main road, hitching Jet up near a small plot of land with some stables towards the back. Our plan was to head over there, have a discreet look around. So we made for the back of the stables, walking along a stretch of fence on the outskirts of the settlement where there weren't many eyes on us.

We were rounding the corner of the stables when I spotted him, the gentleman sitting down up against the wall, napping. I immediately spun on my heel, grasping Arthur's arm to stop him from going any further, simultaneously crashing into his chest. His hands went to my upper arms, steadying me, but he didn't step back. I felt flustered at his proximity but I didn't let it distract me; Arthur gave me a quizzical look but I held my finger up to my lips and poked my head around the corner of the building. I couldn't see the man's face but I could see his gator skin boots and his feathered hat, and the ponytail hanging down over his shoulder; all things I recognised easily. He was a burly, hairy guy, very distinctive.

I returned to Arthur. "That's the guy, he's the one who took Rayna," I whispered.

Arthur took a peek for himself, then nodded slowly, thinking.

"I'll keep my eye on him and make sure he stays put. If he don't, I'll distract him; you can head into those stables and see if she's there. You find her, you book it, alright? Get her out of there and don't look back, I'll be right behind you."

"I thought you said we weren't gonna do nothing," I pointed out and he smirked.

"Well, since we're here," he shrugged, then waved me off. "You go on."

I nodded firmly and spun around, jogging back over to the fence. I looked around for any witnesses, relieved to find the area vacant, then climbed over the fence. My feet dug into the mud below me and I had to pull them free before I could start moving, but when I did I beelined for the stables.

I ran inside, scanning the place. My initial view had me disappointed, spotting only a black Shire, but then I saw her, laying down on the floor in the gated section in the corner. My Rayna. I couldn't slide the bolt of the door open fast enough, throwing it wide open. I rushed inside, crouching down beside her and patting her head; she was sleeping but soon woke, rising up to her feet, ready to work. I laughed in surprise, feeling a little emotional at the sight of her. I checked her over, making sure she didn't have any injuries as I scratched the spot between her ears; I was relieved to find that she was okay.

"I missed you, baby," I whispered to her, but I couldn't hang about.

I flipped over a nearby bucket to step on and lifted myself onto her, bareback, and held onto her mane as I got her moving. We left the stable and I leaned forward so I felt more secure and pressed in with my legs, urging the horse forwards, faster. Despite Arthur telling me not to, I looked back; I saw the guy who had stolen her come running out from behind the stables, closely followed by Arthur. He crumpled to the ground mid-yell, though, when Arthur bashed him over the back of the head with the butt of his gun to knock him out.

I winced and turned back, leaving the penned in area and speeding up the main road, racing out of there as fast as I dared without the security of a saddle. I made it out into the open space outside of Emerald Ranch, the realisation of what I'd just done setting in. I looked down at Rayna, at her cute little ears and her sweet face, focused and alert, and grinned. It wasn't long till I was all out laughing, letting the victorious emotions flow through me. I cheered, not slowing up, letting her run and feel the breeze, getting reacquainted with her.

The sound of hooves pummelling the ground behind me signified Arthur's presence, following me into the open plains. I glanced over my shoulder and grinned at him, and he nodded at me. I sat up on my horse, feeling the air hitting my face and rejoicing in the way it made me feel, almost like I couldn't breathe but in a way that was more exhilarating than unpleasant. I cheered aloud, yelling into the air, laughing like a lunatic. I let myself have the moment, incredible as it felt, since it'd been a long time since I felt so happy.

I was out of breath when I slowed Rayna down, bringing her to a stop miles away from Emerald Ranch, safe from anyone who might decide to come after us. Arthur stopped by my side as I dismounted, I walked around and held Rayna's face in my hands, going onto my tiptoes and pressing my forehead to hers as I so often did before. I kissed the center of her face, then gave her a gentle hug around her neck, feeling her breath puff over my back.

"Ohh, look at you. My beautiful girl!" I whispered to her as I pulled back, running my fingers through her mane and smoothing a hand over her coat. "I hope that feller looked after you."

I turned to Arthur, he was standing by his horse, watching me with his hands casually on his belt. My legs carried me forwards and before I thought of stopping myself, I threw my arms around him. He grunted in surprise, freezing for a moment before chuckling and bringing his arms around me too. He patted the small of my back, holding me very gently; far more gently than I was holding him. His broad chest and thick arms surrounded me in the nicest of ways, it'd been a long time since I'd had a hug from anyone and Arthur certainly gave a good one. I squeezed him for a few moments, lingering perhaps a little too long before backing off, clearing my throat and looking down at his feet.

"Thank you, Arthur."

"For what? I barely did anything," he chuckled, lifting his hat up and running his hand through his hair before replacing it.

I shook my head. "This means so much to me. I felt so bad, not going after her before."

"I'm glad we could get her back," he said, touching my arm before taking a step towards Rayna. He patted her neck, "she's fast, for her size. I was worried you weren't stopping, thought this'd be the last I saw of you."

"I just wanted to stretch her legs," I laughed, coming to stand beside him, petting Rayna's back. I bet she loved all the attention. "She's a big girl, not built for speed, but she can really go when she wants to."

"You rode without a saddle?"

"Yeah. She's a good girl, she can ride without one. I didn't see any saddles while I was in there, but I didn't wanna push my luck anyway. Had to just get her out of there."

"I've got a spare saddle I don't use no more, you're welcome to it," he said, stepping back and looking her over.

"Thank you. You're too kind to me," I said, capturing his attention.

"You deserve a little kindness, I reckon," he said, then mounted his horse again. I climbed onto Rayna – struggling a little without a stirrup – and followed Arthur as he started to ride. "Come on, let's get back to the camp."

-

Charles was standing guard when we returned to the camp and he smiled when he saw us approaching. He gave us a little wave and nodded towards Rayna.

"You got your horse back?" He presumed.

"We did! We got her back and Arthur left the guy who stole her with a parting gift of a lump on the back of his head," I giggled, dismounting. Charles reached into his satchel and pulled out a carrot; he tossed it to me.

"A little welcome gift for her," he said, and I turned and fed it to her.

"She says thank you," I told him, stroking her head as she ate the carrot from my hand.

"I suppose you'll be on your way, now you have your horse back?" A new voice joined us, and I turned to look at Dutch. He didn't seem particularly pleased.

"Hi Dutch," I said, giving Rayna one last pat on the neck before approaching the leader of the gang. "I'm not going anywhere just yet."

"I just hope you didn't cause too much of a stir, getting that horse back."

"We didn't, the guy didn't see Arthur. If he saw me, what does it matter? I've got no known affiliation with you folk, and he knows what he did. I imagine he was expecting me to come looking for her anyway. Nobody else saw a thing," I assured him.

Arthur came up beside me. "Don't worry, Dutch. I was with her, you trust me, don't you?"

"I trust you not to go pulling these stunts without speaking with me first, you know I was fully prepared to help her get her horse back when the time was right. And don't think that I can't smell the alcohol coming off the two of you," Dutch raised his voice just a little and Charles slowly stepped away. I couldn't blame him.

"It was easy, in and out work. Why're you mad? It's one more thing you ain't gotta worry about," Arthur said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Because now she's got her horse back, there's nothing stopping her from running off to the damn sheriff!" Dutch exploded. It didn't shock me, I knew that it would be something he was worried about, but I was shocked that he was blind to the obvious flaw in his worries.

"With all due respect, Mr. Van Der Linde, if I was gonna do that, I'd've stolen one of your horses and done it on the first night."

"But you wouldn't, because you needed our help to get her back," he said, jabbing a finger in Rayna's direction. I opened my mouth, then closed it again; I had to admit, he had me there. Arthur looked at me and I could even see him doubting his actions.

"You clearly don't trust me, and I can't fault you for that. All I can say is, I promise I ain't going to no sheriff. I'll leave when the time is right, but not before doing right by all of you," I explained, holding my hands up to him.

"And how do you suppose you do that?" Dutch asked.

"By helping you make a little money," I said, then reached into my chemise, raising a few brows as I did; Arthur sharply looked away as if I was stripping down in front of him. I held up the note the woman at the train station had given to me. "Here's that rich lady's address, the woman we stole the luggage from. I'm up for helping you rob her again."

[poorreputation]

SPN 1X02 Wendigo Retrospective Meta

Tagging: @emblue-sparks @metafest @verobatto-angelxhunter @evvvissticante @dea-stiel @sudo-apt-get-destiel @wildligia

Summary (via IMDB)  Sam and Dean make a stop at Blackwater Ridge and end up helping a young woman and her brother find their other brother, who mysteriously disappeared, while on a camping trip, in the woods.

Teleplay by: Eric Kripke

Story by: Ron Milbauer and Terri Hughes Burton

Directed by: David Nutter

Post under the cut:

Episode Notes:

Our first Then-Now segment.

November 2, 1983- This, combined with Jess' tragic death, establishes it's been 22 years between the Winchester's lives being ruined by fires. The Pilot, oddly enough, didn't make the significance of the dates clear. I chock it up to the Pilot having so many drafts. that some plot relevant stuff got lost in the shuffle.

And, now our title card has sound! The first time we see SPN's logo, it's completely silent. Again, constant tweaks between episodes.

Blackwater Ridge

Lost Creek, Colorado

We open on 3 people camping, as one dude calls his sister Haley to deliver exposition.

Of course they're being hunted in the woods, as the camera gives us a monster's eye view.

Haley's brother (still nameless) is reading when one of his friends is attacked. Now, knowing this production crew, there must be some significance to the book he's reading-

-it's Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Who, in this book, wrote of the Hero's Journey.

I- I'm, I can't, Kripke, no. It's only episode 2, slow down. Please. You're getting ahead of yourself.

Gary's fucked. Bye, Gary.

Palo Alto, California

Confirmed, Jess died on 11/2.

Sam expresses grief, and then regret, in not telling Jess the truth, as we're treated to a bad jump scare that only got me the first time.

Dean offering to let Sam drive, to get his mind off of things, asking how Sam's doing. Doesn't buy it when Sam shrugs it off.

To find Jess' killer, they have to find John, who is nowhere to be found. 

Connecting the dots already between Mary and Jess.

Blackwater Ridge

Lost Creek, Colorado

A bunch of abandoned gold and silver mines, hmmm...

Haley sounds like a worried older sibling. I'm sure Dean can relate.

Sam assumes Dean wants to get in Haley's pants, while Sam just wants to find John as quickly as possible. Dean notes his brother's change in attitude to "shoot first and ask questions later".

Tommy's his name. Tommy Collins. Alright.

Oof, Haley's really the older sibling. Looks like there's a 2nd brother, too, that she's cooking for. Reminds me of flashbacks of younger Dean, providing for Sam. Haley's very observant, as well, asking for ID and noting Dean's unusual car.

Parents gone, only "two brothers and me", not "us three". Call it clunky writing, or call it Haley identifying herself  not as her sibling's equal, but as the one in charge.

Dean connecting with Haley on her urgent need to find Tommy, "I think I know how you feel." At first, one would think he's just referring to John, but everything we've seen thus far from Haley screams as someone searching for a little sibling/feeling parental.

Haley shows Sam and Dean Tommy's last message (recorded on his fucking flip phone. Tommy would be the kind of person to use a go-pro or a selfie stick). Every 23 years. Alright, first off, I love how cryptic the Pilot was about the monster reveal, while here it's just 'Wendigo' in the title. Second, the similarity between the Wendigo and what John's ultimately hunting: a creature killing every 20 or so years. Maybe the slight difference of 22 years vs. 23 made John leave. Or, he figured out it was a Wendigo, and dumped the case on his kids without any heads-up.

Sam and Dean interview a Wendigo survivor from '59, someone who was so young when it happened, no one believed him. It all got swept under the rug as a Grizzly attack.

A little detail I'm noticing now; the Wendigo is vulnerable to fire, that's why it left the kid in '59 alive. The boy had fallen asleep in front of the cabin fireplace. And earlier, the Wendigo, just before killing Tommy's friend, hesitated at the sight of the campfire.

Sam and Dean figuring out the creature has to be corporeal, ruling out spirits and demons as potential culprits, means John probably knew, too. Knowing John's looking for the Yellow Eyed Demon this whole time...

Sam wants to tell Haley the truth to keep her from going into the woods, and Dean counters with this:

Dean: "Her brother's missing, Sam. She's not gonna just sit this out."

To further my point from before; the focus is on the worry a guardian would have for a dependent. Dean sees John as the man with all the answers. Dean relates to Haley not because his worries over John are equal to Haley's about Tommy, but because he's probably fretted over Sam the same way. An alternative, and equally valid point, though, would be Dean sympathizing with Haley over losing 'Family', as I brought up in 1X01, when Dean insists to Sam he's not only a Hunter, deep down, but a Winchester.

Sam: "Finding Dad's not enough? Now we gotta babysit, too?" (at the idea of Haley coming with them on the Hunt). The glare Dean gives in response to this shows how much Sam is missing the point.

The guy Haley hired is just trying to do his job. I used to be annoyed with him, but with this rewatch, I'm more annoyed at Dean. Dean's the one who insists they can't tell anyone their secret, and yet they (Sam and Dean) could've benefited from cooperating with Haley's group. It makes Dean come across as an arrogant know-it-all who dismisses the help of an expert despite being on such unfamiliar terrain.

We catch up with Tommy, who sees his friend get eaten. That's gonna need some therapy.

Dean starts sizing up the guide Haley hired, Roy, and Dean's doing the whole "Well, has anything ever hunted you back?" shtick. Right as Roy saves Dean's ass from a bear trap.

After Haley confronts Dean (who up to this point has just been giving Roy a hard time), he tells her part of the truth; he and Sam are really brothers, and they're looking for their father. Telling Haley this is the "most honest I've (Dean) been with a woman. Ever."

M&Ms as provisions. Of course, Dean. Only a 26 year old can get away with that.

Roy calls the group over to Tommy's campsite, which is wrecked.

Haley finds Tommy's phone. It must seem like any chance of getting in touch with her brother is gone for good. Dean comes up and assures her Tommy could still be alive. I'm sure Dean's felt this many times with John, especially now.

The Wendigo mimics a man's voice, lures everyone away, and takes the distraction as an opportunity to destroy/steal the group's supplies.

Putting it all together, Sam figures out it's a Wendigo. He tries to talk the group into going back to the cars, not giving the whole truth, and Roy's, rightfully, fed up. Think of it from Roy's perspective; these two actual babies come waltzing in, clearly lying about their government job, almost getting themselves caught in a bear trap, Sam and Dean must seem like a couple of walking disasters.

Poor Roy. Your greatest crime has been using logic.

Now, thiiis, referring to the Wendigo as not only a Hunter, but the perfect Hunter.

Dean: "Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy." Dean, you were pulling that shit with Roy, first. "Well, has anything ever hunted you back?" Having all the answers doesn't make you any less of a douche.

Sam and Dean come to the conclusion John has probably never set foot in Lost Creek. I still stand by the idea John checked it out, and then ruled it out. Sam and Dean have so little to go off of, in finding John, they're grasping at straws.

"Saving people, hunting things. The family business." Connecting what the Winchesters do as Hunters, and the Wendigo itself is the perfect Hunter. More on that, later...

Why doesn't John just call, play it to them straight? Because Sam won't listen to John, but he will listen to Dean, who's bought John's philosophy hook, line and sinker. And, John's so obsessed with revenge he sees nothing wrong with this.

The Wendigo once again tries to trick the group.

Bye, Roy.

It's the next day, and everyone left tries to regroup.

Sam and Dean fill Haley and her remaining brother in on Wendigos. Since the only instance of people being up in Lost Creek were miners, I'm guessing the Wendigo was a worker who got lost/trapped in a tunnel collapse with only their fellow miners to keep them company. And fed.

So, Wendigos are creatures who were once people, but give in to cannibalism. They then develop an insatiable hunger, but never turn wild; they're still very much Human.

Hi, Roy. Nice to see you're still hanging around.

Dean and Haley have been kidnapped, who could have ever seen this coming?

Dean's trail of M&Ms leads Sam and Haley's brother to an abandoned mine. Sam and the brother fall through the floor, finding the Wendigo's kitchen. They find Dean, Haley, as well as Tommy.

Dean volunteering himself as bait is tragically typical.

For once, Sam has to look up (at the Wendigo).

Okay, real quick, I appreciate the time and energy it took to make the Wendigo costume. For obvious budgetary reasons, SPN relies on monsters that conveniently look Human, so it's a real treat for the baddie to actually look monstrous.

Haley: "Must you cheapen the moment?" ladies, gents and distinguished individuals, this is Dean propositioning someone without saying a word and using only his facial expressions. People are gonna get confused over the next 14 seasons over Dean not verbalizing he wants to fuck, but I'm happy to say he's been doing it from the start. Bonus points is that Haley instead gives Dean a kiss on the cheek, which seems to fluster Dean, implying he wasn't actually expecting her to respond. Almost like Dean's putting up a front, or something.

Sam takes Dean up on his offer to drive, how sweet.

Post Episode Meta/Notes:

(These were all written during the episode, so if the flow feels weird, that's why. I just want to try sticking meta related stuff at the end)

(After Sam and Dean realize John was never in Lost Creek) Another thing, though, is this shows a similarity between John and Sam; with a 'bigger' hunt in mind, they're willing to let 'smaller' cases pass by. Call it selfish (it kinda is) call it what you will. Now, look at Dean. He may be arrogant, yes, but he can step into someone else's shoes and understand they need help. Haley's just gonna blunder into the Wendigo's clutches, otherwise. This is an example of, despite the separation of time, John and Sam have a lot in common.

(After going into the origins of the Wendigo) A person gives up their Humanity to become the perfect Hunter, but is forever consumed by hunger... for flesh, or revenge?

(After Dean and Haley get kidnapped) OH WAIT I'VE GOT IT ALL WRONG.

Roy is a stand-in for John. Older Hunter that's been at it for as long as Sam's been alive, acting condescendingly towards the younger Hunters, undermining their ability. Dean's giving Roy a hard time because he can't and won't say the same to John's face.

After that whole speech from Dean about all John knows being in his journal, and having that book bestowed upon him and Sam, it started to click for me.

That’s my take on 1X02 Wendigo! Thank you for reading, share your thoughts, and let me know if you wanna be tagged in my next meta on older Supernatural episodes! And, if you’re interested in more content about this particular episode, I have a post on both it and 14X16 Don’t Go in the Woods!

https://poorreputation.tumblr.com/post/183625991916/spn-14x16-dont-go-in-the-woods-meta?is_related_post=1

[the--blackdahlia]

This Life Chapter 10

Title: This Life Chapter 10

Summary:  Dean Winchester is the Vice President of the motorcycle club The Hunters. After almost 7 years in prison, he's free. But things have changed and Dean has to figure out how to put things back together.

Warnings: Language mainly

AN: The song for this chapter is It’s Been Awhile by Staind.

Benny jumped to his feet to grab a hold of Dean’s arm while Lucifer and Gabriel stood ready to attack if needed. Sam waved them down, wiping blood off his mouth.

“I deserved that, I think.” Sam said. He looked at Dean. “It’s really great to see you man.”

“I was worried sick about you, you little prick!” Dean said. But then he reached out and grabbed Sam, pulling him into a hug. Dean noticed there was a lot more muscle, and height, since the last time he had seen the kid. In fact, when they pulled apart, Dean realized it wasn’t a kid he was hugging. Sam even had stubble and everything.

“Come on.” Sam said, waving for Dean and Benny to follow him. He turned around to walk out the door. That’s when Dean noticed the vest. Wayward Sons Motorcycle Club. Dean looked over at Benny, who just shrugged before they followed Sam out of the room. They walked down a hallway before coming back out at the bar that Dean and Benny had broken into. This time, there were people hanging around the bar. All of them wearing Wayward Sons vests.

“Well, welcome you guys.” Sam said. “This is all of us, minus one person.” Dean looked around the room. Out of the six that were there, Dean knew three of them. And two of them he had just met. Dean looked behind the bar. There was a woman there with a blonde mohawk, wearing black jeans, a crop top, and a Wayward Sons vest.

“You let women join?” Dean asked. She flicked a switchblade and pointed it at Dean.

“Have a problem with that pig?” She asked with a bit of a growl. Sam raised a hand.

“Easy Ruby.” He said. She glared at Dean but lowered her knife. “Uh, yeah. That’s Ruby. And that’s Meg over there.” Sam said. A girl with long brown hair with bits and piece of pink peeking out came over.

“Oh, we’re old friends.” Meg laughed. Dean looked at her then over at Benny, who just shrugged. “Arizona. Those big bad bikers were chasing you down.” She smiled.

“You were the other bike?” Dean asked. Meg giggled.

“Guilty!” She leaned in and whispered in Dean’s ear. “I’m an excellent shot.”

“Okay Meg, that’s enough.” Sam said. Meg licked her lips as Sam gently pulled her away from his brother.

“I just love it when he does that.” She laughed. Dean looked at Benny. What the hell kind of club did Sam get himself caught up in.

“Hi. I’m Andy.” The last guy said, offering his hand. A normal handshake and not a knife being presented to Dean. Dean took his hand and shook it. “I think I’m the guilty one for running your friends off from Palo Alto. But after everything Sammy’s been through…” He missed the way Dean’s eyes darkened some at Andy using Sam’s nickname.

“Who’s your president?” Benny asked. Sam looked around at all the members, telling them with his eyes not to say a word.

“You’ll meet him later. He’s busy.” Sam said. “I’m VP though. So if you need anything…”

“Wait a minute, I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this.” Dean said. “Weren’t you the same kid that said over and over again he didn’t want the club life? But here you are, running around with a bunch of fucking strangers and not your own family?”

“Dean…” Sam started to say. He could feel his club starting to get a little on edge. They were a little protective of him. He was the youngest after all.

“And not only are you a member, but you’re VP? You could’ve been the VP of the Hunters while I was in prison and stepped up to help Bobby when dad died! Did you ever go to his funeral, or were you too busy with all of these assholes? Do you even care?!”

“Dean, that’s enough.” A voice said from a hallway behind Dean. “Leave your brother alone. He’s in the life now, that’s all that matters.”

“Okay, I think I have brain damage. I could’ve sworn I just heard dad’s voice.” Dean laughed some, but Benny turned to look behind them. “Is this a Lion King thing? Is dad Mufasa?”

“Not quite.” Benny said. Benny grabbed Dean’s arm to turn him around. And Dean could see what made Benny spooked.

Because there stood John Winchester.

He didn’t look a whole lot different than what he had looked like when Dean had seen him last on a visit. His hair was a bit more grey, but he had burns covering the left side of his face, and an eyepatch covering his left eye. The tattoos that covered his arms were the same, with some burns on the left side. Whatever had happened to him had taken a toll on his left side.

“Hey Dean.” John said.

“There’s...there’s no way.” Benny said. “We found two bodies in that building. Yours and Bills.”

“You did find Bill’s, yes.” John said. “But the other one was the fucking Horsemen who set the fire.”

“I just don’t understand.” Dean said. “We all thought you were dead! If you were alive, why didn’t you come back or tell us that you were alive!”

“I did it to keep you all safe.” John said. He went behind the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “Ruby, why don’t you set these boys up with some drinks?”

“Sure thing.” Ruby said, grabbing two glasses and pulling a couple drafts for Dean and Benny.

“Dad, I don’t want beer. I want answers.” Dean said. “You and Sam are both alive and well and I thought you both were dead!” Benny took the beer that Ruby slid to him and drank a good chunk of it.

“Well, I lost everything in the fire.” Sam said. “Contacts, phone, everything. I should’ve been in contact but I got swept up in things.”

“Why don’t we order some food and sit down and explain everything?” John suggested. “We’ll go to the house and leave these guys here. They’ll have to run the bar anyway. And we have some good paying customers that come to see Ruby and Meg.”

“What about Benny?” Dean asked.

“He’s pretty much part of the family, so of course he can come.” John said. “I’ll place an order. Sam,  will you lead them over to the house?”

“Yeah.” Sam said. “Just a second.” He disappeared down the hall and came back a second later with a helmet and keys. “Follow me.” Sam led them outside. Their bikes were still the only ones in the parking lot. “I’m parked around on the side. I’ll meet you guys.” With that, Sam walked off. Dean and Benny looked at each other.

“What is up with them?” Benny asked.

“I don’t know. But we better get some damn good answers or I’m shooting something.” That’s when there is a roar of a motor. Sam came around the corner on a beautiful bike.

“What happened to he didn’t want to ride?” Benny asked. Him and Dean had both offered to teach Sam how to ride one. He had fallen off once when he was learning and broke his arm, and he said that he wasn’t learning again. He would only ride with someone until he got to the age that people started to tease him. Then he learned how to drive a car and wanted nothing to do with the motorcycles.

But here he was, driving like he had been born on one.

“It’s not too far.” Sam told Benny and Dean as he pulled up next to them. They nodded and got on their own bikes, following Sam. And he was right. It wasn’t too far. Took about five minutes maybe. It was a little closer to town than the bar, but not much. John really liked his privacy.

Sam parked his bike and took off his helmet, waiting for Dean and Benny to pull in. They pulled in behind him and followed him up onto the large front porch with the swing swaying a little.

“Dad, Andy, and I all live here.” Sam said, unlocking the door and letting them in. “Thankfully I cleaned up yesterday and we really haven’t been home.”

It wasn’t empty, like Dean was expecting, but it didn’t look like a home either. There were a few pieces of furniture, and a TV, but that was really about it. It really just looked like a place they went when they needed to sleep. It was a big difference from the house back in Wolfpine. Hell, even Dean’s apartment had more furnishings than this.

“Nice place.” Benny said. Sam shrugged and made his way into the kitchen. There was some milk, beer, water, and soda in the fridge. When Dean and Benny came in, they could see random boxes of food on the counters.

“It’s just a place to sleep and eat when I’m not at the bar or doing other things.” Sam explained. “I do have some books in my room. I decided to keep reading college level things, even though I had to leave.”

“Are you going to tell us about that?” Dean asked.

“When dad gets here.” Sam told him. Sam looked at Benny. The blood on his face and arm had dried. “Sorry about Lucifer. I would say he really is a good guy, but he’s not.”

“Then why don’t you kick him out?” Benny asked. Sam went to the sink and wet a wash cloth so Benny could clean up some.

“He’s a good member, not a good person.” Sam told him. He handed him the cloth. “I gotta do some stuff upstairs. Make yourselves at home. I think the cable is still on.” With that, Sam was gone. Dean and Benny looked at each other.

“Is that really Sam?” Benny asked. “Because that doesn’t seem like the Sam that I knew just a year or so ago.”

“He’s been with dad. Dad has a tendency to drain the sunshine out of people’s lives sometimes.” Dean grumbled. “But maybe we can get to the bottom of this once they decide to give us some details.” Benny nodded and carefully wiped the blood off himself before they made themselves comfy in the living room and waited.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @i-would-die-for-woodland-demars @dekahg @marvel-af @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @luciathewinchestergirl @sheris532 @bobasheebaby @flamencodiva @bella-ca

This Life Tags: @soulslaststand @jamielea81 @caplansteverogers @becs-bunker @supernaturalwincestsblog @colie87

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23

[minuete-blog]

Philes’ Xmas Advent Calendar Prompt Days 22 and 23: reindeer and Santa Claus. Tagging @today-in-fic @txf-prompt-box @only-txf-fanart

Set sometime in Season 1, before all the minor character deaths occurred. Scully’s first time at Mulder’s apartment.

Significant Gesture

Scully takes a moment to take in the dated, brick brown building before stepping out of her car and being greeted by the mild late-November afternoon weather. Putting on her trench coat, she notices that there were some trees still hanging onto their gold-and-red colored leaves lining the building. She reads the address located above the archway of its main entrance: 2630 Hegal Place. A couple of residents exits the building without a passing glance her way as she stands aside for them before entering the main hallway, and passing by the row of mailboxes to the single elevator that services the complex. Scully pushes the number 4 button and waits for the elevator to slowly make its way up to the fourth floor. She steps out of the elevator and notices that the even-numbered units are on her left. Scully reaches unit 42 and knocks on the door. She notices that the number “2” is slightly askew, but before she has a chance to adjust it, Mulder answers the door. He is casually dressed in a long sleeve dark grey top with the sleeves rolled up and jeans.

“Hey, Scully. Thanks for swinging by after visiting your parents,” Mulder said as he ushers her inside.

“It’s no problem, Mulder,” she answers as she takes in Mulder’s apartment. It definitely has the bachelor pad ambiance with its eclectic furniture pieces. She notices a telescope propped beside a window nearby the entry to his kitchen. There’s an empty laundry basket atop his dining table with a basic turn-style kitchen timer beside it. He leads her further inside where she finds that he is in the process of cleaning his fish tank.

“Hold on just a moment, Scully. I’m almost finished…” Mulder trails off as he pours a large jug of water into the tank, sending his three goldfishes scurrying to one end. She watches as he tests the pH levels of the fish tank before replacing its top.

“Let me dispose of this,” Mulder said motioning towards a pile of wet towels and a bucket of dirty tank water he’d siphoned before she arrived. He quickly gathers the items and makes a beeline to the kitchen while shouting, “Oh! And welcome to my humble abode, Scully!”

He leaves her alone giving her a chance to observe his living room. She glances down at the coffee table and smirks at Mulder’s idea of a coffee-table book— Playpen magazine—next to an ashtray filled with empty shells of sunflower seeds. A cream-and-black afghan blanket with Aztec designs is haphazardly strewn on the black leather couch. Scully gathers the blanket and folds it, placing it neatly on the end nearest to the fish tank. She notices something red in the tank among the aquarium plant décor as she steps in closer to take a look.

“Think my fishes like their new neighbor?” Mulder asks returning from the kitchen. He stoops beside her to observe his fish tank, his left arm brushing against her right shoulder in the process.

“Santa Claus in a snorkeling outfit?” She gives him a sideways glance and sees his upturned lips in profile. His hazel eyes are shining brightly from the light illuminating the fish tank.

“I figured the fishes could be festive for me this year. It’s a shame; I couldn’t find any reindeer to keep Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick company.”

“Hmmm...guess there aren’t any snorkels that would fit a reindeer.” Mulder turns his head towards her giving her a lopsided smile. He stands upright and grabs the fish food from the second shelf. Scully watches the goldfishes madly swim up to the top fighting for the pellets scattered on the water’s surface.

“They act as if I never feed them.” He sets the fish food down on the shelf as he perches on the sofa arm rolling his shirt sleeves down. “Take note how much I fed them, Scully.” She arches her right eyebrow at Mulder. He gets up and walks over to his desk, and opens the drawer, briefly rummaging through it until he reveals a key. Scully looks at him questioningly.

“Here’s a copy of my apartment key, for when I need you to feed my fish.” He drops the key into her outstretched hands. Scully looks at the key and feels its ridges with her right index finger. This is a significant gesture, she thought to herself, another degree of trust. She glances up at him and must have had a troubled expression on her face, as he raises his hands upright as if in surrender.

“Hey, don’t think there’s any obligation nor pressure for you to return the gesture, Scully. I just figured since you’re my partner now…”

“No—right—I mean, it makes sense,” she stammers nodding her head, “It’s actually long overdue. I should’ve given you a copy of my key since Eugene Tooms’ incident.” She takes out her set of keys and threads his onto her key ring. “I’ll give you a copy of my key tomorrow at the office, Mulder.” He worries his bottom lip still eyeing her.

“Also, um…I was wondering if I can have you be my medical power of attorney if anything happens to me while on duty.” Scully nods.

“Yes, of course, I can be your medical power of attorney, Mulder.” She averts her eyes and starts to chuckle at the weight of it all. “Geez! Way to spring this all on me without even a proper date!” She glances back at him to see a surprised expression on his face. Oh. She feels her blush start to spread across her cheeks as she stuffs her keys back into her coat pocket, her eyes downcast in embarrassment. She didn’t mean it that way. Mulder lightly taps her on her left elbow to get her attention.

“Hey, I’ll treat you out tomorrow. Any place you like,” Mulder replies smiling softly at her once he recovered. “I can’t wait to tell my former ASAC that he’s completely off the hook to call the medical shots for my sorry ass. He’ll be jealous to hear that my partner is also a certified doctor.” Scully smirks.

“I’ll draft something up for each of us to sign, then. We can go over it during lunch at the Old Ebbit Grill.”

“Old Ebbit Grill?!”

“No take backs. You said any place I want,” she replies as she pokes his chest with her right index finger. Before he could respond, the timer buzzes from the dining area.

“I guess that’s my cue to head out,” Scully said looking at the front door as she drops her right hand to her side.

“I’ll follow you. The laundry room is located in the basement.” He grabs his keys off his desk and grabs the laundry basket off the dining table as the two head out to the hallway. Scully looks at him curiously when she sees him heading towards the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He turns to look at her, his back against the stairwell door as he props it ajar.

“It’s just faster this way. I gotta make a run to retrieve my clean laundry before somebody else decides to leave it on the countertop. See you tomorrow, Scully! And thanks!” He shoots her a shy, boyish grin as she waves goodbye to him. The stairwell door closes behind Mulder. Scully reaches into her coat pocket for her set of keys. She looks at his key hanging next to hers and smiles.