#he’d survive mostly off cereal if he stayed human

[horrendousmustard]

kanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekikanekika

he has a rubber duck in his house and there’s 7 plants and he sings in the bath and he gets mad at Shachi for being old and if you whisper in his ear he won’t hear it because it would feel like the breath is tickling his ear and he’d be too busy focusing on not giggling

[mittensmorgul]

Happy Resurrection Day

A short fic in celebration of Dean and Cas’s 12th anniversary!

Rated: T Words: 3652

Summary: The world didn't end, and Dean and Cas finally get to choose each other. It only took twelve years and a little road trip back to where it all started.

Read it here on AO3

One random morning in mid-September, a few months after the world was left in their hands once and for all, Dean woke up to the nagging feeling he was forgetting something. There wasn’t really much to forget anymore. There was no looming apocalypse, no new catastrophe on the horizon. The biggest dilemma he’d faced in the last few days was whether he had enough milk to make pancakes, or whether he’d have to run out to the store before breakfast.

Sure, he and Cas took the occasional salt and burn. Easy hunts they could usually dust in a day. Sam had taken an extended road trip to see the country and try to figure out what he wanted to do with himself now that he was truly free to explore what life after Chuck could look like, but Dean already knew. He’d known for a good long time that he loved his life, loved the bunker, and loved hunting. And for whatever reason, Cas had just decided to stay, no strings attached. Whether Dean was itching to get out on the road for a long weekend on the slimmest excuse of a hunt that just as often as not turned into a detour to some tourist trap or other, or whether Dean just wanted to sit at home bingeing an old tv series or having a movie marathon, Cas seemed equally content with the slate of activities Dean conjured up for them.

He hadn’t put it into so many words, and he definitely hadn’t said it to Cas, but Dean also loved that Cas had stayed with him.

So it was strange waking up with an unsettled swirling in the pit of his stomach. He held a hand up to his forehead, checked his eyes and throat in the mirror to make sure he wasn’t coming down with something. He didn’t want to get Cas sick, if he was. He’d already survived Cas’s first cold as a human, just barely. They went through so much soup in a week, Dean was starting to wonder if Cas was just milking it for the room service. He had to admit that Cas letting him walk him through the highlights of Dr. Sexy while he was curled up in a blanket nest by his side wasn’t the worst thing he’d had to endure. But for now, Dean wasn’t sick. He just had a restlessness in his bones and no idea how to cure it.

He pulled on his robe and ambled out to the kitchen. Coffee would help him figure out what was eating at him, surely. Only Cas had beat him to it, which was unusual enough to amp up that uneasy feeling. Dean usually beat Cas to the kitchen most mornings, so walking in to a full pot of coffee and no other sign of Cas had him wondering if something was wrong. He poured himself a cup and set off in search of Cas, and whatever he was up to so early in the morning.

He found Cas sitting at the table in the library scrolling around on the internet. Dean just stood in the doorway and watched him for a moment, studying his posture as if it might give him some clue what sort of mood Cas was in. Human or not, Cas still had the intense focus he’d always had as an angel, and aside from pausing to take a sip of his coffee or navigate to the next page, he barely moved from his position hunched over the keyboard. Rather than startle him, Dean waited until Cas put his mug down before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

“Mornin’ sunshine. You’re up early.”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, giving him a guilty glance before going back to his work. “Yes, I had been hoping to surprise you later, but I apparently didn’t wake up early enough for that. I hope you slept okay.”

Dean shrugged as he walked around the table and sat down across from Cas. He took a sip of his coffee before replying.

“Mostly. Woke up feeling restless, and I couldn’t figure out why.”

Cas nodded at him as if he understood exactly what Dean meant. “I did, as well. And then I checked the calendar. I assume you know what today is?”

Dean’s brow furrowed as he performed a few calculations. Days all sort of blended together after a while, but they’d made a trip up to Henderson for supplies on Wednesday, and that was only a couple days before.

“Friday?” Dean eventually replied, hoping he was right.

Cas laughed, but shook his head. “It is Friday, but it’s also September 18th.”

Dean blinked at him for a moment as he mentally rocketed back to a run down old gas station where the windows shattered the first time Cas had ever tried to introduce himself. He’d just clawed his way out of his own grave, and the local newspaper had helpfully supplied him the date, and the knowledge that he’d been in hell all of four months. No wonder he’d woken up feeling weird. He might’ve forgotten the date, but somewhere deep down, some part of him would always know it.

Dean came back to himself to find Cas waiting patiently for him, like he always did. He took another sip of his coffee and set the mug down, recalling what Cas had said before sending him off down disturbing memory lane. Better to focus on the present than linger in that particular bit of the past.

“So you were planning a surprise?”

Cas shrugged. “I thought maybe we should do something to celebrate. People celebrate these sorts of milestones, yes?”

Dean wobbled his head side to side and made a face. “Pretty sure Hallmark dosn’t make a card for this one.”

Cas frowned, reaching up to shut the laptop as if he’d made some terrible faux pas, but Dean quickly dropped his hand atop Cas’s to stop him.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate it anyway,” he said more quietly, smiling at Cas. “It was a pretty noteworthy occasion, you pulling me outta hell. What did you have in mind?”

Cas’s frown deepened. “That’s where I’ve been stuck all morning. It felt inappropriate to suggest going to visit your gravesite, and taking you out to dinner seems… trite, in light of the occasion.”

“You know me, Cas. I’m always up for food,” Dean replied, trying to lighten the mood. “Plus it wasn’t just about me being un-dead, you know. It’s the whole reason we met in the first place. And look how that turned out.”

Cas had finally begun to smile again, and turned his attention back to the computer. “We didn’t actually meet face to face until late the next night when you summoned me. There was a bit of a delay due to unforeseen circumstances.”

Dean thought about that for a minute, nodding as he remembered the events of his first few days back on earth. “Well, if you wanna do it right, we could always take a road trip back to that old barn, see if it’s still standing.”

“Have you been back there since then?” Cas asked, curious now.

Dean shook his head. “Driven by it a few times over the years, but never went back inside. The whole farm’s completely overgrown. I figured someone would’ve gotten freaked out by all the weird symbols and burned the place down by now. It was still standing as of a couple years ago.” That got Dean curious. “Have you been back?”

“It’s been a while,” Cas said quietly. “I used to fly there sometimes, when I still could. It was a quiet place to think.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Then that’s what we should do. We’re taking a road trip. I know at least three great diners between here and there I haven’t taken you to yet. We can make a whole weekend out of it.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Cas replied, finally shutting the computer.

“Good. Breakfast first, then we’ll head out. Have ourselves a little resurrection day road trip.”

Dean grabbed his mug and stood up. He’d need to get dressed and pack a bag. They could have a quick breakfast if they were gonna be stopping at Dana’s Diner for lunch. It was a bit of a detour, but the burgers were worth it. He flashed a grin at Cas.

“I’m gonna pack a bag and grab some cereal before we hit the road. Meet you in the kitchen in 20?”

Cas nodded and shut the laptop. As Dean made his way out to the hall, he heard Cas mutter quietly, “Happy Resurrection Day,” as if he was testing out the sentiment. He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

The drive to Illinois took most of the day. It could’ve been a lot quicker, but in addition to Dana’s, they hit a steakhouse on the outskirts of Chicago for dinner before swinging back south toward their destination. Dean bypassed the Astoria Motel where a mirrored ceiling shattered by Cas’s angelic voice had once nearly killed him. He pointed it out as part of their trip down memory lane, but pulled up at a different motel clear across town with the excuse that it would be a shorter drive back to the barn in the morning. Their room was a lot less shabby, and a lot less pay-by-the-hour feeling than the Astoria, so Dean felt it was a win all around.

As they settled in for the night like they had every night they’d been on the road together, Dean let himself really feel the usual longing the three foot chasm between their beds brought out in him. Most nights he’d just roll over and pretend to fall asleep while mashing that feeling down as hard as he could. Tonight, though, he lay in bed staring across that gap, wishing he could make some excuse to crawl into the other bed. Of all nights, and in this particular place, he really just wanted someone to hug until dawn.

The specific someone being Cas.

In the dark, in the quiet listening to Cas’s breathing even out as he drifted off, for one moment Dean allowed himself to admit that he didn’t just love that Cas had stayed with him. He loved Cas. Full stop. Dean lay there until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, holding on to that feeling and knowing he’d have to crush it back down in the morning.

He dreamt of what could’ve happened in that barn, if he hadn’t stabbed Cas that first time they’d met. With twelve years of history between them now, and Dean’s quiet revelation that he was in love with Cas, his dream-self went through a series of alternate endings to that meeting ranging from love confessions to things that he would definitely not be enumerating to Cas over breakfast the next morning. It made for an excellent night’s slumber.

Morning came without the restlessness the previous day had. Dean opened his eyes to the dawn light seeping between the curtains to shine a golden spotlight on Cas’s face, which was smiling back at him.

“Hello, Dean. I take it you slept better last night?”

Dean yawned, but didn’t quite feel like getting up yet. He wanted to enjoy this surreal moment for just a bit longer. Instead he stretched out under the blankets and propped himself up on his pillow to get a better look at Cas.

“Yeah, you?”

Cas propped himself up on his elbow, no longer in the little beam of light, and blinked at him. “I’m reserving judgment until after we have coffee, but yes. It seems to have been satisfactory.” Cas frowned for a second, and Dean was about to ask what was wrong, when Cas asked, puzzled, “If yesterday was Resurrection Day, what does that make today?”

Dean must’ve still been a bit loopy from his late night thoughts, the restful sleep, and what he could recall of the dream he’d been having. He never would’ve blurted it out around a yawn otherwise, but that’s exactly what he did.

“It’s countdown to Cas day.”

He froze for a second after the words had escaped into the wild, and then slowly turned to take in the fond look on Cas’s face.

“I’m already here, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t twelve years ago. I didn’t even know your name yet.”

“You do now,” Cas replied. “How should we celebrate it? Since I sincerely hope you weren’t dead set on a complete reenactment. I don’t have the power to rattle the roof or blow open the doors anymore.”

Dean grinned at that and sat up. “Yeah, I don’t really wanna shoot you, either.”

“I appreciate that,” Cas replied, sitting up on the edge of his own bed opposite Dean. He looked right into Dean’s eyes, as if attempting to convey some deeper meaning to his words, and spoke quietly. “I’m glad you finally believe in me.”

They sat there for a long moment before Dean finally nodded. “‘Course I believe in you, Cas.”

They took turns in the shower and packed up their bags. After a quick breakfast on the way to the farm, they drove down the overgrown dirt road that led to the barn. Dean had to leave the car a good way back down the road, and they hiked through the knee-high scrub to the broken old barn door. Dean picked up a shattered timber and tossed it out of the way as he pushed his way inside.

“Man, this place is a lot less intimidating looking in broad daylight,” he said, as the two of them stood in the doorway and took in the faded symbols Bobby had painted on every surface of the interior. Broken glass still littered the floor, now covered with a heavy layer of dust.

“It looks different now, somehow,” Cas added. “Smaller. Which is strange considering I was so much larger the first time I was here.”

Dean turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, but now you’re seeing it human. It’s gotta be weird.”

Cas shrugged, and walked around the perimeter of the barn, examining the sigils out of old habit. “This has always been a quiet place for me,” he said, touching a warding sigil with his fingertips before continuing on. “Nothing unholy could find me here. I could be alone with my thoughts.”

Dean noticed a few of the sigils Cas stopped by, and didn’t recognize them. A collection of carefully drawn wards drawn much smaller and in a different shade of paint that stood out from all the rest he’d watched Bobby create twelve years ago.

“Did you add those?” he asked.

Cas nodded. “Angel proofing. Or at least, concealing.”

Dean thought back to all the times Cas had been running or hiding from Heaven and the rest of the angels. When he’d been human and had nowhere to go, and instead of coming here he’d run in the opposite direction, because Dean had kicked him out. A bolt of guilt shot through him and nailed his feet to the floor. This was a place Dean hadn’t come back to because it reminded him that he’d been to Hell, reminded him that Heaven had wanted him for their own for reasons that frankly horrified him now. But for Cas, this was the place Dean had first met him, a place that for him would forever be about the moment he was truly introduced to humanity. It had been kind of a shit introduction, if Dean was honest with himself. But twelve years later, after all the shit had played itself out, Cas had finally made his own choice about his life, and he’d come back to where it all began.

“Happy resurrection day,” Dean said as he stared at Cas from across the room.

Cas turned to him, the look of surprise on his face quickly turning to a smile. “It is a bit like a resurrection, isn’t it? We’ve come all the way back around to where it started, and we’re free of it all now.”

Dean just nodded dumbly, letting the enormity of it sink in as Cas walked over to stand in front of him.

“I don’t have wings or the power of Heaven at my back, but I do recall something I said to you that night. Good things do happen, Dean. And they have.”

“And here we are again,” Dean said, clearing his throat. Both of their lives had changed that night, and they’d spent so much of their time fighting against everything in the universe since then. The one constant had always been each other, even when they’d totally fucked it all up and broken the natural order and sacrificed themselves to fix it all again, they’d done it to save each other. At the end of the road, and the beginning of their journey, Dean couldn’t keep his feelings bottled up any longer. “I love you, you know.”

Cas sucked in a shocked breath of air and blinked at him for a moment, before a grin broke across his face, lighting up the gloomy, dusty haze in the barn. “I love you too, Dean. I’m so glad I’m here with you.”

Dean shook his head, finally prying his feet free to shuffle closer to Cas. He reached out a hand to rest it on Cas’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck. “No, I mean, I love you. I think I always have, and I know I always will, but I only really just figured it out. I’m in love with you and you’ve put me back together in ways you can’t even imagine. You might’ve resurrected me and healed me more times than I can count, but you helped make me a whole person, Cas. And I love you.”

Dean felt the prickling of tears behind his eyes and struggled to hold them back. Like he always did, Cas stared into him, right through him, and lifted a hand to Dean’s cheek.

“I’d hoped it was obvious when I chose humanity, when I chose to stay with you, that I felt the same way for you, Dean. I didn’t have any idea how much knowing you would change me, how much you would teach me about humanity and what makes life worth living when I first walked through those doors. One thing I did know, though, was that I already loved you. I had no idea what that even meant yet, but I would learn.”

A slightly manic laugh escaped Dean’s lips at the euphoria of hearing Cas’s words, seeing the heartbreaking honesty in his face, and wondering how long it was polite to wait before kissing him. Cas gave him a relieved smile, as if he’d been holding it all in far too long, and Dean let out a sigh as he pulled Cas to him.

“Love at first stab, huh?” Dean asked, smiling right into Cas’s face.

“Don’t belittle it, Dean. I loved you even before then. The moment I laid a hand on you in Hell. Healing your soul and reuniting it with your body, resting you gently in your grave and waiting for you to emerge again.”

“You do know how fucked up that was, right? You couldn’t have just dug me out?”

Cas’s brow furrowed. “It was Heaven’s orders. I never thought to question them. But yes, it has bothered me many times over the years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s bothered me more than once that I tried to thank you for saving me from Hell by stabbing you in the heart.”

“It worked, though,” Cas replied, one eyebrow raised. “I’m still here with you.”

“Better than cupid’s arrow,” Dean muttered, and then grimaced at his own terrible reference. It amused Cas, though. “Okay, enough awful jokes. Are you gonna kiss me already?”

Cas made a considering face, as if he hadn’t already made up his mind. “Happy resurrection day to both of us, then. I suppose we know exactly how to celebrate it now.”

Dean took that as the invitation it was, and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met tentatively at first, and then more confidently as they clung to one another in the gloom. The exploding lights were all internal this time, but no less spectacular. Dean shuffled his feet and heard the crunching of broken glass, and reluctantly pulled back from Cas.

“We should probably find someplace less dangerous if we’re gonna keep going…”

Cas nodded his regretful agreement. With one last look around the old barn, they pulled the doors shut.

“We can come back next year, if you want,” Dean said, taking Cas’s hand and leading him back to the car. “Make it an annual thing.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Cas replied. “The annual resurrection road trip.”

“Next year we bring a broom,” Dean added, leading Cas through the weeds. “Maybe a picnic.”

Cas laughed, letting his hand go when they reached the car.

“So what do you wanna do next?” Dean asked as he climbed back behind the wheel. “We still technically got the rest of the day to celebrate.”

“You mentioned several diners you wanted to introduce me to, and it’s nearly time for lunch,” Cas replied.

Dean thought over their options, then leaned across the front seat to plant a kiss on the corner of Cas’s mouth, just because he could. The look of surprised delight on Cas’s face was more than worth it. “How much of a detour are you up for?”

Cas gave him a look of mock pity. “Dean, I’ll go anywhere with you. No detour is too long if I have you to share the journey with.”

Dean gave him a proper kiss, with a promise of more for later. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

[writing-radionoises]

encouragement

ship: pre-relationship beast! shin soukoku

genre: post-canon hurt/comfort

prompt: after dazai's death, atsushi is picked up by odasaku and temporarily lives with odasaku and akutagawa. akutagawa attempts to encourage some healing in atsushi.

notes: i want to kiss beast atsushi so bad and so i threw all of that onto akutagawa. there's not enough soft beast shin soukoku so of course, i provide enjoy!

“So, he’s staying with you?”

Akutagawa nods at the brunette at the door. Ango Sakaguchi, a government worker and a good friend of Odasaku’s. By default, this makes him a good friend and probable father figure to Akutagawa.

“The mafia disbanded and scattered to the wind, most of the executives have abandoned their posts and gone into hiding,” Akutagawa explained, “Odasaku-san found him half-dead in an alleyway, and you know how he is about kids.”

“No trouble with his ability or anything of the sorts?”

Akutagawa nods a no.

“He’s under control, kids don’t mind him. Don’t worry about Nakajima, we’ve got it under control.”

“Are you certain?” “Yes. I have a child to tend to, out with you,” Akutagawa shoos the government worker with a stern look as a toddler calls out for him in the background.

Ango gives him a strange look before hesitantly waving a goodbye, and Akutagawa closes the door behind him.

Akutagawa lets out a sigh, grabbing his tattered coat from off the coat hanger and throwing it over his shoulders as he picks up the small child calling for him.

She’s a new child Oda has picked up, no older than three or four. However, Oda unexpectedly went out of town, and so Akutagawa is stuck playing babysitter for two children.

Nakajima has proven himself to be a child at times.

The small girl clings to Akutagawa’s jacket, mumbling something softly to herself as Akutagawa gently bounces her, heading towards the kitchen to find Nakajima already at the table.

Most days were the same. Nakajima awakes late, enters the kitchen, sits at the table and spaces off for most of the day. He’s not talkative, though Akutagawa can’t say he is, either.

The tension between them is strong after what Akutagawa had done to Nakajima, though also because of their shared experience of the death of Osamu Dazai.

The shared knowledge of the book, which is held within Akutagawa’s possession.

He thought about using the book over and over again, though never quite goes through with it.

The truth is, Akutagawa finds himself not upset with his life.

Outside of Gin’s sudden hatred and distance from him, his life is rather good.

Odasaku is a good man who cares very much for him.

The agency serves as a family, they all care for Akutagawa more than anything.

He’s developed a knack for caring for children, helping them come out of their shells.

He  can cook and function like most of any normal human being these days.

There’s no telling what his life would look like if he tried to change it.

“Who was at the door?” Nakajima deadpanned from the table.

Akutagawa glanced over, almost surprised at the other’s voice.

“A man, don’t worry about him. He’s a friend of Oda’s.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing special,” Ryuunosuke replied, “As I said, don’t worry about it.”

Nakajima falls silent once again as he sets the toddler in a highchair, grabbing a fold out stool from beside the fridge to reach up and grab the cereal for the toddler.

The toddler seemed calm and happy now with a tray of Cheerios in front of her as Akutagawa sits beside her, across from Nakajima, and watches the child half-mindedly.

“He’s a clever man, I bet he works for the government,” Nakajima continued, his eyes glued to the table as he pulls his jacket a little closer to his face.

“Clever…” Ryuunosuke mused, “You could say that. He is a government worker, he mostly just checks in on the agency every once in a while. I suppose he got word that you’re staying here.”

“... He should’ve arrested me.”

“Perhaps, but I think he has bigger fish to fry.”

The two fall silent once again as the toddler crunches down on the cereal happily. Akutagawa runs his hands through his hair. He can only wonder what’s going through Nakajima’s head, he hasn’t been the same since he witnessed Dazai’s suicide. Though, it’s understandable. Akutagawa struggles to remember that Dazai was not pure evil like Akutagawa remembered. In Atsushi’s eyes, he was a good man and mentor.

Akutagawa would argue, based on what he had seen Dazai do to Atsushi, though it’s not a fight worth picking.

Nakajima looked up from the wooden table, looking at Akutagawa with curious eyes.

“Why do you let me stay here, after everything I’ve done?”

Akutagawa glanced back over at Atsushi from the toddler, shrugging.

“I believe everyone needs some encouragement.”

Nakajima’s brows furrowed in confusion, looking away from Akutagawa as the conversation ends.

Akutagawa isn’t certain if he brought clarity to Nakajima’s mind, or confused him more.

“Go out and do something with him, something fun. Bring some life back to that boy for me, I’m getting worried for him.”

That’s what Odasaku had said to Akutagawa a day prior. Akutagawa had expected this to happen eventually, Odasaku always had him handle the tougher children.

Though, Nakajima wasn’t necessarily a child.

Akutagawa wasn’t quite sure how this would work out, he rarely interacted with adults like this, he had only a handful of friendly encounters with Nakajima.

One way or another, Akutagawa managed to get Nakajima in the car to drive off. Nakajima didn’t ask many questions, and accepted the answer of “it’s a surprise” when it came to where they were going.

Nakajima sat beside him in the passenger seat, watching cars and pedestrians go by as Akutagawa drove out towards a park, a rather empty one as he parked along the side, climbing out of the car to get into the backseat to get out a bag of frozen peas and lettuce no one in the house was going to eat.

Nakajima’s brows furrowed as he followed suit, looking around the park cautiously. Akutagawa led the way towards the duck pond, he thought about offering his hand out to Nakajima, though he decided against it.

It was trying maybe a little too hard to not baby Nakajima.

Nakajima followed behind Akutagawa like a lost child, his hands laced together as he looked around the empty park. He sat beside Akutagawa on a park bench in front of the duck pond, he seemed to grow more and more confused by the minute.

As Akutagawa fumbled with the bag of frozen peas, Nakajima finally spoke up.

“What… Are we doing here?”

“Feeding the ducks,” Akutagawa replied simply, holding out a small handful of peas for Nakajima to take.

Nakajima took them hesitantly, looking over them before tossing them out to the ducks beginning to crowd around them.

Akutagawa did the same, the silence between them filled with the quaking of happy ducks. Akutagawa resisted a smile, instead opting to bounce his left leg.

“Are you trying to get information out of me?” Nakajima asked, looking over to Akutagawa.

Akutagawa nodded a no, “I’m getting you out of the house.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“What, and let you sit there and rot away? I think getting out might’ve been the best for you, it’s easier to get over things when there’s more going on around you,” Akutagawa explained.

Nakajima looked down at his lap, falling silent as he nuzzled into his coat once more.

Akutagawa didn’t push for more answers, continuing to watch the ducks as he shifted his head from side to side half-mindedly.

“... If you’re trying to get me to talk more, it’s not working,” Nakajima hummed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he fidgeted with his fingers, “I don’t like talking.”

“I don’t either,” Ryuunosuke replied, “Though, I suppose I can talk enough for the two of us. Kenji-kun tells me getting to know someone is a give and take thing, I’m working on it, however… I’m much more used to talking to children than people my age.”

“You… Work with children that often?” The silver haired boy asked, hesitantly, to which Akutagawa nodded.

“Yes, I work under Odasaku, so it’s natural. My past makes me relatable to children we help, my background as an older brother usually makes me likable to younger children. I don’t mind it, talking to children is… Easier than an adult. Children only understand so much, they lack the knowledge of social normalities most of the time, it’s easier for me…” Ryuunosuke explained, “I grew up with very little social interaction, I spoke with my sister and a few other orphaned children, though that was about it. I never learned how most people communicate.”

“Your sister…” Atsushi mused, eyes glued to the ground.

A slight pain made its home in Akutagawa’s heart from the mention of Gin. Even now, it’s difficult to think about her. He’d never let her go, and never love anyone quite as much.

He isn’t sure if anyone would quite understand how he felt about his little sister, not even Tanizaki could quite understand. Akutagawa grew up alone, raising Gin himself up until Dazai stole her away.

It was less of a typical brother-sister relationship and more of a father-daughter relationship.

“Her name is Gin, right?” Atsushi asked, breaking Akutagawa out of his thoughts.

He nodded, “Yes, her name is Gin… She’s a sweet girl at heart, I’m not sure how she really lasted in the mafia…”

Akutagawa propped his head up in his hand, trying to take his mind off of whatever pain he was feeling. This wasn’t supposed to be about him, he shouldn’t dump his baggage on the other.

“... She was strong,” Nakajima commented, “I only met her a few times, but she was strong, physically and mentally. I don’t quite get how she survived Dazai, either, especially now… I barely survived Dazai…”

Akutagawa looked over to Atsushi, watching the boy continue to feed the ducks, a little more confident and out about himself.

“For the sake of my sanity, did he ever hurt Gin?” Akutagawa asked.

Atsushi paused, looking up in thought before eventually nodding no.

“Not to my knowledge. He didn’t hurt physically most of the time, he would manipulate you into hurting yourself,” Atsushi explained, “I’m sure… I’m still under some of his manipulations, but I’m not ready to address that…”

Akutagawa knew he was referring to the collar, though decided not to comment on that.

“That’s alright, address it when you’re ready. Healing is a long process,” Ryuunosuke reassured, “We’ll be here when you are ready to address it.”

A slight smile came to Atsushi’s face.

“Thank you, I’ll try my best.”

Akutagawa smiled back, watching the other happily watch the ducks.

A part of Ryuunosuke thinks Atsushi’s smile might be the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

[star-spangledstud]

Like You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (Female) Reader.

Word Count: 2800-ish.

Summary: Steve has a really shitty way of saying goodbye. 

A/N: My friend sent me the prompt: “If I knew then what I know now.”. I decided to play around with it and then this happened. 

Warnings: Angst at its finest. Such brief mentions of sex you hardly notice them. Heartbreak. 

You didn’t understand why he didn’t come back to you like he was supposed to. 

It wasn’t like the two of you didn’t have a solid relationship. You complemented each other when you walked into the room, the perfect blend of two different people that had come together as one. You hardly argued, barely even disagreed on matters that concerned the both of you and you never got sick of each other’s company. You were complete, whole when you were with him and he was with you. 

You ate together, trained together, slept together in the same bed night after night. Even as the world burned after the big Snap, you stayed together, thankful every day for the fact that the both of you had made it out alive. You mourned the loss of friends together, tried to overcome the holes in your hearts together. It was an obstacle in the road that paved the way for your lives and you faced it together. When everyone was brought back, you couldn’t have been more grateful, because five years of learning how to rebuild everything had made the two of you stronger, more aware of how much you needed each other to survive. Most importantly, it made you aware of how all you needed to survive was each other. 

A power couple, that’s what they called you. Sun and moon, yin and yang. The perfect balance of work and play, of fun and professionalism. You kept each other moving, kept one another going with words of encouragement and wisdom, forced each other out of bed after half the world had literally vanished in the blink of an eye. It hadn’t been easy, but you expected the strain on your relationship to have been much worse. You got off easy compared to many other people. 

When the two of you first caught wind of the possibility to bring everybody back, of course, you jumped on the bandwagon. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to see your best friends again, for things to go back to the way they were. You knew it would be hard because people had moved on, started new relationships, new careers and had moved house, but you had faith that humanity could overcome it.

You still got chills when you thought of the orange portals that signaled everyone’s return. The distant memory of seeing the people you thought you’d never see again in the flesh for the first time in five years still brought prickly tears to the corners of your eyes, as did the knowledge that Natasha and Tony had given their lives to make it happen. They sacrificed their lives so you could have yours.

You hardly had time to notice the sudden change in Steve’s behavior. You were so busy trying to reintegrate half the population into the current day, that the two of you spent less and less time together. You were in charge of bringing back the positions of SHIELD agents that had vanished and offered your help to them both professionally as well as privately. Some of them had lost their families because they’d moved on and it was very hard on them to realize that five years of life had simply passed them by. 

Steve had been talking about retirement for years. You knew he wanted to finally lay down the shield once and for all and the two of you had been talking about it more and more as time progressed. Finally, he decided to bring the team back to its former glory, to rebuild the facility and to find new possible recruits, before he’d finally call it quits forever. 

Before that could be done, the Infinity Stones had to be returned to their respective timelines. Of course, he was the one to suggest to do it. You’d honestly be surprised if he didn’t offer to do it himself. You told him it was okay because you trusted him and trusted his judgment and if he felt like he could complete the mission successfully, you would stand behind him and support him because that’s what good girlfriends did. 

You remembered the way he gently kissed you before stepping onto that godforsaken platform all too well, the way his hand caressed the side of your face and hair, the squeeze in your shoulder. It was a kiss unlike any of the ones you’d ever shared before, not even the ones he gave you after Tony’s funeral, filled with grief, sadness and need. No, this one was different. You didn’t know it at the time, but you did know it when looking back. 

He was telling you goodbye.

“No,” you cried, “no, no, no!” 

Your arms and legs flailed miserably, chest heaving rapidly up and down in irregular motions. Bucky cringed with how horribly upset and distraught you were, unsure of what the hell he should do about you crying beneath him.

He was sitting on the edge of your bed, rubbing your back in soft, circular motions while you hugged your pillow tight to your chest. Your face was red, tip of your nose glowing and your cheeks were so puffy you looked almost like a clown. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t think words could suffice or make you feel any better. He was probably right. 

“Why?” You choked out, “Why did he leave me?” 

You could hardly breathe without Steve. 

Bucky could hardly understand what you were saying. Every word came out in hiccups, forced to the surface by the tension in your lungs and contracting chest. For a long moment, you stopped breathing. Bucky panicked immediately. His pulse quickened and grip on you tightened. Then, you took a deep, panicked breath of air with a high pitched cry.

All you could think of was Steve, how he glanced at you from his spot in the dead center of the platform. How his lips tightened into a sad line, how his brow creased and his eyes closed just before he disappeared on you forever. You should have fucking known, but how could you? He was everything you ever wanted and you thought you were the same to him. He never even gave you the indication that he was unhappy, that he didn’t love you. That he was going to leave you for her. 

“Shh,” Bucky cooed, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam showed up at the door, which stood slightly ajar. His head peaked in, eyes following your heaving body and Bucky’s slouched form before resting on his face. Bucky shook his head. Sam quietly left. There was nothing he could do to ease the pain one of his best friends had caused you.

“Get some sleep,” he told you quietly after your sobs had silenced.

“Don’t leave me,” you managed to whimper, grabbing hold of his flesh arm and pulling it down with you.

You needed human contact, couldn’t stand the thought of being alone after being left by the love of your life.  

“Of course,” he replied, biting the inside of his cheek, “I’m not going anywhere, sugar.” 

You slept with Bucky by your side that night, still dressed in the clothes you’d put on while Steve was still lounging in bed that morning. The make-up you’d put on while Steve was in the shower had mostly come off on your sheets and on Bucky’s left shoulder. You clutched his shirt while you dreamt of Steve in short bursts, the desperate need for comfort so dire that you refused to let the man leave when he tried. He was angry too, angry with his best friend for putting the woman he loved so much through such pain. 

You cried as soon as you woke up the next morning, hand sore from fisting Bucky’s shirt all night. Your head hurt terribly, a pressure had built up behind your eyes overnight and it worsened as the day continued. Bucky eventually managed to leave you alone so he could get changed and talked to Steve, who was now an old man instead of the man who’d taken you to Paris on your first anniversary. 

You became indifferent to the saying ‘time heals all wounds’, because it no matter how many days passed you by, it never seized to hurt. Every little thing that reminded you of Steve would send you in a downward spiral. People recognizing you on the street for once being the most beloved Avenger began to walk around you with a wide arch because even they could tell something was terribly wrong with you. Soon enough, they all knew what had happened.

You hardly slept, because images of Steve dancing with Peggy haunted you all night long. Images of him, telling you he’d chosen her instead of you would flood your mind, along with pictures of the two of you when you were happy. You began to question it, all of it and wondered often what would’ve happened if you had been the one to join Tony on his journey back to the 70s instead of him. You wondered if he’d still be here, sleeping soundly next to you with his arms engulfing you in warmth. Now, there was only cold. 

You didn’t have the energy to be productive anymore. Life without Steve was no life and the void of his existence had taken away the importance of everyday tasks for you. Literally, everything you came in contact with reminded you of him, from the cereal you used to eat together to the movies you would watch. You couldn’t go to your favorite coffee place anymore, because that’s where you went to get his morning cup on the weekends. You couldn’t even stand to look your fellow teammates in the eye. They’d become afraid to be around you, walking on eggshells when you ventured out of the depths of your room for food because they were scared of saying the wrong thing. It happened once when Bruce made a comment towards Sam’s shield. His shield. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said as he watched Bucky carry you back to your room, “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault,” Wanda assured him, “She’s in a lot of pain right now. It could’ve been any of us.”

“Can’t we do something?” Sam asked, hands on his head. 

Wanda shook her head, “We can support her, but she needs time to heal.”

You never knew heartbreak could cause physical pain, but the constant strain on your heart was exhausting. You went through entire boxes of Ibuprofen to ease the constantly looming headaches, but they did very little to ease the dull throbbing of the back of your head. Your eyes were red constantly and your skin didn’t glow anymore. Everything had dulled like Steve had taken your life light with him back to the past, engulfing you in complete darkness.

You’d never find someone like him again because nobody compared to him. 

You often reminisced the good times you experienced with him by your side. The fun you had while sparring in the gym room, climbing on his back as he tried to push you to the floor. You thought back to the many dates you had, fancy candlelit dinners inside of expensive restaurants that involved your favorite flowers at the beginning of the night and passionate sex at the end. You remembered holidays, Tony’s extravagant parties that were mostly just you and him eye-fucking each other in fancy clothing with champagne on your breaths until it was late enough for you to bail so you could fuck for real. 

It was holding his hand, kissing him hard and long on his beautiful mouth before he had to leave for missions that sometimes lasted far too long for both your liking. Placing fingers on his thigh while he was driving and toying with the soft fabric of his jeans higher and higher until he couldn’t take it anymore. It was walking on the beach early enough to see the sunrise and long drives back on the back of his motorcycle, safely hidden away from the world behind tinted helmets.

Now, there was nothing. No hand-holding, no joking around, no fucking each other in the storage closet because you couldn’t wait to get back to your room on the top floor. Nothing but emptiness, cold and dreadful and tiring like a weighted blanket made of snow that refused to thaw under your own body temperature. 

Even when you finally decided to become more active again did the emptiness not leave you. It followed you around like a ghost, always lingering in every corner of every room you entered. Bucky felt sympathy for you, but even he couldn’t help you. You had to pull yourself from the depths of the ocean by yourself, had to swim back to the surface without a life vest or oxygen tank strapped to your back and you constantly felt like you were going to drown. Maybe you already had and this was your purgatory. 

You couldn’t help but regret it sometimes. Getting together with him. It was when that looming darkness engulfed you that you allowed yourself to regret ever getting to meet him. You’d lay in bed at night and pray to the Gods to turn back time just once, allow yourself to make the choice that would’ve prevented you from getting to learn who Steve Rogers was because that choice ultimately led you to fall in love with him.  If only you knew then what you knew now.

You sat by the fireplace alone now, staring at the smoldering embers and the flames that licked slowly burning wood. You watched the trees move in the wind by yourself now, watched the rain drip against the window panes with your knees pulled up to your chest. How could loving Steve Rogers hurt so fucking bad?

“How you holding up, kiddo?” Bucky asked, taking a seat beside you on the couch that directly faced the window. 

“I’m alright,” you responded, voice raspy and dry. 

He offered you a glass of water, which you took gladly. At least someone cared about you despite your efforts to push everyone away.

“I talked to him this morning,” he said finally, “he misses you, I think. Might even regret his decision to leave.” 

Your eyes flicker to Bucky, then fall back on the fireplace, “I miss him too.”

“He asked how you were doing,” he said carefully.

“What did you say?”

Bucky exhaled, “I didn’t lie.”

A comfortable silence fell over you, allowing you to listen to the crackling of the fire and Bucky’s breathing beside you. Sometimes, no words needed to be said for them to be exchanged. You toyed with the shaggy blanket over your lap, twirling the fabric between your fingers. 

“I don’t think he has a lot of time left.” 

You scooted closer to him, allowing your head to rest on top of his torso. He patted your head and drew circles in your hair while you rested your eyes for a moment. You hardly slept the night before and were beginning to feel drowsy. You started napping frequently, finding sleep wherever and whenever you could because your bed was too empty and too large at night. 

“Will you come with me?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I will,” he said, nodding although you couldn’t see it, “I’ll come with you.”

“When?” 

Bucky’s shoulders rose, “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll make time.” 

Maybe you should’ve known that he’d go back to her if the opportunity arose. You’d heard stories, of course, Bucky had told you enough. Steve didn’t talk about her much, except for after her funeral, which he attended alone without telling you. You should’ve known it then with how messed up he was after her death. Should have known that he’d never been able to really get over her. You couldn’t even really blame him, either. She’d been ripped from him when he went into the ice and was already on her deathbed by the time he woke up. For her, a lifetime had gone by. To him, it felt like seconds. It’s how Bucky must’ve felt when he came back after the Snap.

Sitting with him on the couch, you weren’t sure if you would’ve changed things. You had a lot of good times with Steve, they largely overshadowed the bad. He’d made you a stronger person, made you appreciate your talents and weaknesses for what they were and he never made you feel less than your worth. He was a good man, you knew it deep down, but accepting that you might not have been good enough for him was a wound that would never heal, not even as you took your last breath.

Still, a small shimmer of hope began to grow somewhere deep within your chest like a seed had been planted. Laying with Bucky in silence, watching the rain pitter-patter against the window, made you think one thought before sleep engulfed you properly for the first time in months.

Maybe things were the way they were meant to be. 

[orangeoctopi7]

Bonding Time

Hey y’all, it’s the latest chapter of the Spider-Stan AU! Consider it a late Christmas present. Or... wait... is it still Hanukkah? Have a happy Hanukkah present then!

Breakfast the morning after McGucket left was awkward, to say the least. The only sound was the steady crunch of chewing cold cereal punctuated by the occasional scrape of a spoon. Stan pretended to try and solve the maze on the back of the box of Penta-Grahms, even though it was easy enough for a five-year-old. Ford stared so intently into his bowl it appeared as though he was trying to use it as a crystal ball.

Eventually they both finished eating, and Stan finally broke the silence.

“So, what kinda tests are we runnin’ today?”

“Well…” Stanford trailed off, remembering his argument with Fiddleford the day before. Maybe he could be a little more honest with his brother. “Truthfully, we’ve run about all the physical tests I can think of, so far. We’ve, uh, we’ve learned a lot about how the mutation has affected you and your physical capabilities. And your health.”

Stan’s face fell. “Oh… soooooo… no more tests... does that mean… you want me to go?”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Ford said hurriedly.

“Well, I mean, I don’t wanna stay if you don’t want me to.”

“Who ever said I didn’t want you to stay?”

“No one, I just don’t wanna seem like I’m leachin’ off you.”

“Nonsense!” Ford corrected him. The beginnings of a hopeful smile formed on Stan’s lips. “There’s still plenty more we can learn from you!”

“Oh.” Stan’s almost-smile changed to an annoyed frown before his brother even noticed it.

“I’ve got some inventions I was working on before another project came along and took up most of my time, but you’d be perfect to test them!”

“As long as we don’t have to take any more blood samples, sounds good to me.”

And so Stan followed his brother into a small storage room, with just a few small windows, where several odd objects were sitting around, collecting dust. It all looked like junk to Stan, but obviously Ford knew what it all was. He picked out a large pair of goggles, a pair of weird gauntlets, and what looked suspiciously like spandex, before leaving the room and heading outside.

Ford sat down on the porch steps and tried on the goggles. They were comically large, even fitting over those huge nerd glasses, and made him look even more like a great horned owl. The eye pieces slanted at an angle, reminding Stan of an oni print he’d seen in a Japanese gift shop back in Portland. 

After just a couple of seconds, Ford pulled them off, blinking rapidly and massaging his eyes. “They seem to be working, but I can’t wear them for long without getting a horrible headache.”

“What’re they supposed to do?”

“They’re light filtration goggles, meant to help see beyond the visible light spectrum. But they take in more light at once than the human eye can typically handle. I was hoping, with your improved senses, you might be able to make use of it. Either that, or it’ll just give you a headache faster.”

“Gee, thanks.” Stan rolled his eyes, but took the goggles anyways. “Whoa!” He exclaimed when he put them on. The world seemed brighter and more colorful with the goggles on, like someone had fiddled with the color balance on the TV.

“Is it giving you a headache already?” Ford asked with a touch of concern.

“No, my head’s fine. But wow, this… this doesn’t look real. It feels more like I’m lookin’ at some fancy paintin’ of the woods than a real forest.” Stan continued to look around when he noticed a strange trail of purple that definitely hadn’t been there before, leading into the forest. As he focused on where the purple line disappeared into the trees, the goggles whirred, and suddenly his vision zoomed in on the spot. “Whoa!” he repeated.

“The goggles can read the muscle movements in and around your eyes to magnify when you’re looking at something in the distance.” Ford explained.

“Yeah yeah, I noticed that part.” Stan stood and walked towards the trail, “But I’m seein’ some weird purple stuff here.”

“Really?” Ford followed him and crouched down, low to the ground, to get a better look at what his brother was staring at. “Right here?” He pointed to a tiny gnome footprint in the dirt.

“Yeah, except it’s a whole line of little purple streaks like that, leading into the woods…” Stan followed the line back towards the cabin and saw it snake around the corner “...and into your front yard.”

Ford’s eyes widened “That’s the trail the gnomes take to my garbage can! You’re telling me you can see it as a different color?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda hazy purple.”

A triumphant grin spread across Ford’s face. “This is incredible! I originally invented these to enable me to visualize residual weirdness, but whenever I tried them on myself, the visual input was too much, and I couldn’t make out anything through the sensory overload! But it actually works!” He grabbed Stan by the shoulders and turned him back towards the woods. “Tell me, do you see anything else?”

“Uhhh…” He scanned the woods, looking for any more colors that looked out of place. “There’s a tree over that way that looks… I dunno, too green? That one with the really thick trunk, near the edge of the clearing.”

Ford followed his brother’s gaze as best he could, squinting at the trees in the vicinity and finding the thick trunk in question. His eyes widened when he got a good look at it, and he suddenly rushed back into the house. Stan didn’t even have time to ask what his brother was doing when the researcher reappeared on the porch, holding a megaphone in one hand. 

“Steve, I told you to stay away from the cars in this clearing! If you take one more step towards my brother’s car, I will get the chainsaw!”

Stan was beginning to think his brother had finally made the leap from eccentric to just plain crazy when the tree trunk, which had to be a few yards around, was lifted out of the ground. Stan pulled the goggles off, sure they were malfunctioning. His jaw dropped in disbelief as he realized it wasn’t a tree at all, but the foot of some bark-skinned giant. A flock of startled birds rose out of the woods and the ground shook as the giant stomped away, it’s full form hidden by the giant redwoods which swayed as it moved past.

“Sorry about that.” Ford turned to him and put down the megaphone. “Steve seems to have some kind of problem with cars. He wrecked mine before this cabin was even finished, and I’ve had to chase him off from Fiddleford’s truck a few times. You might want to park a little closer to the house, he’ll only reach so far out into the clearing.”

Stan just stared at his brother, mouth agape.

“Steve?” He finally groaned incredulously.

“He acts like a Steve!” Ford said defensively.

***

After Stan moved his car so close to the house you couldn’t even open the passenger-side doors, they moved on to the next invention Ford wanted to test. The two of them climbed a ladder in the library to the roof, then scaled the steep wooden shingles to the highest peak. 

It was an easy climb for Stan, with his ability to stick to walls, but he was impressed by how at-ease Ford seemed up here with just his boots and his sense of balance.

Ford helped Stan put on a pair of strange gauntlets, made of a bulky, segmented wrist strap and a sort of button on a stick that rested just above Stan's palm.

“So, you hold down the paddle here,” Ford pointed to the button thingy that extended over Stan’s palm from the gauntlet thingy around his wrist. “to release the pressurized fluid. The stream will solidify into a sticky fiber ten times stronger and lighter than a steel cable. It’s the same basic principle they use to make nylon, but with an even more robust substance. You just swing it out towards whatever surface you want to use as an anchor, then once it’s stuck, jump up and swing forward. Double-tap to release the fiber, and repeat. When the fluid runs out, hold down on the cartridge,” He pointed to where the cartridge slotted into the wrist gauntlet thingy, “And it’ll pop out. Then turn the wrist strap to the next compartment with a new cartridge.”

“Uh, ok…” Stan nodded, looking over the strange device. He thought he understood what to do. 

He took aim at a sturdy looking tree that towered above their perch on the roof of Ford’s cabin. A stream of white goo shot out, quickly weaving itself into a chord of spider silk as it sailed through the air and finally found its target. Stan gave the chord an experimental tug, making sure it was secured to the branch. It held firm.

“Now, the real trick it to pick out a second anchor, take aim with the second web-shooter, and secure a second line while swinging from the first line.” Ford continued.

“Are you even sure the first line will hold me?” Stan asked nervously. He’d mostly gotten over his fear of heights when he gained the ability to stick to walls, but the woods didn’t leave him a lot of options to catch his fall.

“Absolutely. I already tested it out when I first developed this technology.” Ford assured his brother. “I just never got past the first swing because… well, I completely tore my arm out of its socket.”

Stan stared at his brother incredulously. “It’s a good thing I found you before you killed yourself.”

“I was fine! I was wearing an amulet that grants the wearer telekinetic powers, so I caught myself before I hit the ground!” Ford bristled defensively. “And technically, I found you.”

“Whatever. It’s still a miracle you’ve survived this long on your own.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t on my own--”

“McGucket told me you only called him out here a few weeks ago.”

“Well yes, but I…” Ford trailed off. Stan could see he was having an internal argument of some sort. He didn't even notice when Stan gave a start as that strange, twinging version of his spider-sense returned. 

This was the first time Stan had ever felt it during the day before, and as he tried to concentrate on the sensation, he was more sure than ever that it had some connection to his brother. Something was wrong with Ford. No, not wrong with Ford. Something wrong was happening to Ford. 

But just as soon as he’d noticed it, it passed, and the next thing Ford said threw him off so much, he forgot about his spider-sense for a time.

“I’m not the only one who’s lucky to have survived so long on my own.” Ford said, casting his gaze downward. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before, when you told me my specimen had bitten you, and that it was affecting you. I can’t imagine what undergoing that kind of genetic mutation on your own must have been like. You could have died!”

“...Oh…” Stan squeaked. He didn’t know how else to react. He’d never felt like he could have died, not from the spider powers showing up, anyway. There had been plenty of times he’d gotten himself into trouble with the mob or creditors or gangs and he’d felt like he could have died, only to discover a useful new ability. Like sticking to walls when he was pushed off a building, or superhuman strength when he broke himself out of a locked trunk, or inhuman agility when he’d literally dodged a bullet. 

“In my defense, you weren’t being sympathetic to my ruined science fair project at all.” Ford continued. “It really did seem to me like you were just being a massive jerk and trying to worm your way out of taking responsibility like you always do.” 

“Wow, you are terrible at apologizing, you know that?” Stan grunted. 

It was Ford’s turn to roll his eyes. “Nevermind. Let’s just test these web shooters out already.” he said flusteredly. 

This unexpected apology caught Stan off guard. He'd volunteered to come out here and be a guinea pig in exchange for room and board. Stan didn’t really mind; it gave him an excuse to stay and… keep an eye on Ford. Yeah. Nobody could deny the nerd needed looking after. Stan certainly didn’t have illusions that things could ever go back to the way things were between them before. No way. He definitely wasn’t getting his hopes up. No one could prove anything. 

Eager to leave this awkward conversation and his conflicted feelings behind, Stan jumped off the roof, swinging on the chord. It felt great, like being a kid on a rope-swing again. As he felt himself swing to the opposite end of his human pendulum, he looked around for another good tree branch to anchor from. It was like his spider-sense slowed down time as he found a target, took aim, fired the second web shooter and released the first line, all in a fraction of a second. For just a heartbeat, he was weightless, before swinging forward on the second line. This was fun! It was hard to be worried or upset about anything when he was swinging through the trees like Tarzan. 

He managed to reach the outskirts of town in just a fraction of the time it took to walk, and nearly as fast as it did to drive. Stan figured he could get there even faster than driving with enough practice. He enjoyed the view at the top of the old bell tower for a moment, then swung back to Ford’s cabin.

The nerd looked like their birthday had come early when Stan got back. “That test-run went better than I could have hoped! How far did you go?”

“To the old bell tower in town and back.”

“Really? In that short a time?” Ford pulled out his journal and started writing excitedly. “And you never slipped, or ran into anything? The line never broke or detached?”

“Nope. I almost hit a few trees but I always changed course in time.”

“Incredible!” Ford grinned. “Let me see the fluid cartridge, how much did it use?” He grabbed Stan’s wrists and popped out the cartridges without waiting for Stan to answer. “How many lines would you say you used, round trip?”

“Uh, I dunno… maybe ten? Twelve?” Stan guessed. He hadn’t known he was supposed to keep track. 

“Hmm… and only used about a fifth of the fluid in the cartridge. Good to know.” Ford jotted the info into his Journal, then snapped it shut. “Fiddleford is going to be so excited to hear this when he gets back! Oh, and it's going to make salvaging parts so much easier!”

Stan raised an eyebrow. He’d used his powers for his fair share of ‘salvaging’, but somehow he doubted that was the same thing his brother was talking about now. “What kind of salvaging are we talking here?”

Ford got that insufferable ‘I know something you don’t’ look on his face. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Ford I literally have super-powers from a radioactive spider. Try me.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

***

They spent a few hours out on the roof, testing out the web shooters. How much fluid did one line use? How many lines did it take to travel a mile? How far could he swing on just one line? Did it take more lines to make a sharp turn? How fast could he travel?

Stan was pretty sure Ford would’ve had him out there all night, swinging back and forth between the forest and the cabin, if not for an incident in the late afternoon. Stan was trying to beat his time from the cabin to the main road when he picked out a branch to anchor from just within sight of the roof. He’d just released his previous line and was about to line up another anchor when he heard a sharp crack. He felt more than saw the dead branch he was anchored to break. He panicked, and instead of thinking to fire the second web shooter and create another secure line, all he could think of was grabbing onto a branch, or a ledge, or a wall, or something to catch his fall. He must have fallen at least 15 feet before he finally stuck to the upper limb of a giant sequoia. Immediately, he hugged it like a life preserver.

“Are you ok?” He heard Ford shout from the roof, witness to the entire embarrassing snafu. 

“Fine!” Stan yelled back, his heart still beating a rapid drum solo in his chest. 

“I think that’s our sign to stop for the day.” Ford hollered.

Stan didn’t need to be told twice. As much as he had enjoyed himself with the web shooters, this near-accident showed he wasn’t exactly a natural at it. He’d probably do a bit more practice a little closer to the ground before trying that again. Perhaps he wasn’t completely over his fear of heights after all.

***

After yet another canned dinner, Ford brought out the last shelved invention from the storage room. To Stan’s untrained eyes, it looked like several rolls of stretchy, colorful fabric.

“Something tells me these aren’t just to add some accents to your wardrobe.” 

“No. It’s an extremely durable fabric. I ruined one too many sweaters while out doing field work, so I developed something that’s water-proof, tear-resistant, protects from abrasions, keeps warm, and most importantly, doesn’t get burrs or stickers caught on it.”

“So, what? You want me to see if I can tear it with my super strength?”

“Well, yes. But also…” Ford paused to collect his thoughts, thinking about how to word what he wanted to say. “I think it could improve your costume.”

Stan blinked. “What’s my costume got to do with anything?”

Ford sighed, looking anywhere but at his brother. How to word this? “I want to help you.”

“I thought that was the whole point of me comin’ out here.”

“No. Well, yes, but specifically… Stan, you’re a hero, don’t get me wrong, you’ve saved so many people, but I know you could do even more with some help.” He finally looked his brother in the eye. “I want to help you be a better crime-fighter.”

Stan broke the eye contact almost immediately. “Uh, Ford, I can’t believe you haven’t already pieced this together yet, but… I’m not really a crime fighter.”

“Not technically, no, and chances are you’ll never be officially sanctioned or acknowledged by law enforcement, but that doesn’t make you any less of a hero. And that’s why I want to help you! You could finally have cutting-edge technology at your disposal!”

“I’m not a hero, ok?” Stan finally burst out. “I never set out to be one, and you of all people should know I don’t act like one.”

“But… but all those people you saved!” Ford protested. “I’ve read the articles! The eye witness accounts!”

“Sure, I may have been in the right place at the right time, and if I saw people needed help, I helped them. That’s just what decent people do, genius! It doesn’t make me a hero! I’m sorry a bunch of nerds blew things out of proportion and made you think I was one.

"The truth is, I've mostly been using my powers to steal. Money. Food. Jewelry. Clothes. Money. Whatever I needed to take care of myself. All those people I threw in jail? Folks I owed money. Enemies I wanted off my back. That's not the kind of stuff a hero does."

At first Ford's only reaction was a blank stare. He was taking a while to process this new information. For all these years he'd had a vision of what he expected the Spider Man to be like, and now, twice in one week, those expectations had been turned on their head. Finally, he collected his thoughts.

"You may have done what you had to to survive. You may have been taking advantage of your powers. But with that power comes a responsibility to use it for good!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Responsibility? Yeah, right! Like I owe the world anything! The way I see it, these powers are the least the universe could do for me after all the ways life has screwed me over!"

Ford opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but after a moment's pause, he just sighed and shook his head. "Don't you see, Stanley? You've already made a difference in the lives of the people you saved. Hundreds of people already see you as a hero. Why not embrace it?"

"What do you care!?" Stan huffed. "You just wanna play the hero like when we were kids, don't you? Only if you can't be the hero yourself, you'll just live the dream through me."

“Is that what you think?” Ford shook his head sadly, “You just don’t get it.” He trudged back down the stairs to the storage room, the colorful bolts of fabric under his arm.

***

That night, Bill returned to Ford’s dreams. The researcher was getting used to his muse showing up almost every night now. He was also getting used to the otherworldly being’s impatience. 

“WOW, FOUR-EYES REALLY DID YOU A FAVOR, LEAVING YOU ALONE WITH YOUR DEADBEAT BROTHER, HUH?”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but this is the first time I’ve felt at home with Stan since we found him in Portland. In years, actually. While I still wish Fiddleford didn’t feel the need to lie to me about it, I think him leaving for a few days was the right choice. Yes, things are still… fragile,” Ford admitted, as he thought back to their argument earlier after dinner, “But our relationship now is better than it’s been for over a decade, and I’m hopeful it will continue to improve.”

“OH, I’M GLAD YOU’RE HOPEFUL ABOUT THAT. ONE MORE SHORT-LIVED HUMAN FAMILIAL BOND RESTORED, WOO-HOO.” Bill rolled his single eye, and then signed “IT JUST SEEMS LIKE SUCH A WASTE FOR SUCH INCREDIBLE POWERS TO GO TO A GUY WHO’D RATHER USE THEM FOR HIMSELF.”

“It’s... unfortunate, yes.” Ford agreed, his annoyance at his brother resurfacing, “But not entirely unexpected from Stanley. At least he’s used his powers to help people in need when he crossed paths with them.”

“STILL, YOU COULD BE A WAY BETTER HERO THAN HIM! I MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP YOU THERE.” 

“Thank you, Bill, but no. Despite what my brother thinks, I’m really not interested in becoming a super hero myself. I’d much rather be recognized for my scientific accomplishments.”

Bill shrugged. “ALRIGHT, BUT IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND, I’LL BE RIGHT HERE WAITING TO MAKE IT HAPPEN!”

***

Stan wanted to scream into his pillow when the twinging, unusual version of his spider sense returned late that night. Sure enough, if he concentrated, he could tell it was strongest in the direction of his brother’s bedroom. But then, Stan got an idea. Those goggles from earlier! They’d helped him see some weird stuff out in the woods, maybe they’d give him a clue as to what was going on with Ford.

So he crept out of bed, down to the storage room to retrieve the goggles, and then into Ford’s room. Stan barely stifled a gasp when he put them on. A halo of sickly yellow was radiating from Ford’s head. That definitely hadn’t been there this morning. 

This time, Stan just sat there and watched. Every other time he’d felt this sensation it had come and gone in just a few minutes, maybe even seconds, but this time he was going to really pay attention and figure out what it was, and where it was coming from. What Stan figured out was, of course, really weird. Whatever it was, it seemed to be coming from everywhere, but it all converged on one point: Ford. That’s why Stan had such a hard time pinpointing it that first night, and it was why it had seemed to be coming from Ford all the times he’d felt it before.

After twenty minutes of watching and just trying to familiarize himself with the sensation of this peculiar spider sense, something finally happened. The yellow halo surrounding Ford’s head shifted, and the ghostly silhouette of a triangle appeared. It had a single, slitted eye, just like all those freaky effigies Ford had all around the house, and in the split second before it disappeared, it looked straight at Stan.

“... What the H?” Stan exclaimed under his breath.

****

XSYO BUOL KAQQZVFIGKL BTMOUF. ECG O VIZ APFX ZQGN BB. U QJUUW VRKW BA PBM YRE SUK I NMU WS L ENTM BA GBHPK BUOL JUK NOPNMEKE. 

[auroraphilealis]

Can you please recommend me some good slow burn fics and/or chaptered fics. Thanks in advance xx

Are you READY?

Cause I have so many recommendations

Under the cut cause I went crazy

Give Me A Try @danfanciesphil - Dan, a bartender at ‘Habenero’, Brighton’s hottest gay club, has been obsessed with AmazingPhil, the openly gay Instagram model for a long time. In all the fantasy meet-cute scenarios Dan has imagined for he and his semi-celeb crush, none of them involved him being at work, being soaked in various liquids, or being halfway through a Saturday night hell-shift. Sometimes, life doesn’t wait around for your plans.

Ships that Pass in the Night @agingphangirl - Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to.

The Meaning of Love @phandomsub - Phil Lester is an intern at the British Society of the Prevention of Cruelty to Neko – an organisation that focuses on rescuing abandoned or mistreated neko and rehabilitating them for re-adoption. He can’t say he fully agrees with the way many neko are treated, but in a world where they have no rights Phil has to agree that being someone’s pet is the best option for them. Then neko #504 is brought into the shelter and Phil finally realises just how alike humans and neko are. 

Here By My Side (A New Color to Paint the World)  - So one day, Phil walks in on Dan wearing a dress. And after a very confusing discussion, it comes out that Dan enjoys wearing girl’s clothing in private. Phil lets it be known that he’d be fine if Dan wore it around him and slowly, Dan starts opening up and letting Phil into his private world. But what Phil doesn’t expect is to start seeing Dan in a whole new way.

breathe and ill breathe (and im in love with you)  - A series of one-shots in which we explore various kinks. Said chapters will include biting, dirty talk, blindfolds, rimming, orgasm control/orgasm denial, spanking and scratching, orders and obeying, handcuffs and leg cuffs, breath play, and wax play.

Stirring in Love - @andthenshesaid-write When Phil applied to be a contestant on the Great British Bake Off he didn’t even expect to make the long-list, let alone make it into the actual tent. But make it he does and there he meets Dan, a baker unlike Phil in every possible way. After a rocky start, Phil realises that maybe he can learn some things from Dan after all, and the biggest things have nothing to do with baking.This fic was nominated for the Phanfic Awards 2016 Best of the Best!

A Map of My Heart and Mind - Dan and Phil get drunk and wake up married in Vegas, the day after Dan’s 25th birthday. Dan thinks they could just get it annulled but Dan knows what marriage means to Phil, how important it is, and he wonders if they can just fake it for a year so it’s not a total waste and then divorce. Of course, a year is a long time to pretend to be married and things can always change��

Emergency Substitute @parentaladvisorybullshitcontent - “You could always charm Phil for us,” Jack suggests. “Throw him off his game.”“Right, yeah,” Dan says sarcastically. “Midway through the match I’ll just Summon his broom to me and he’ll fall off and then Gryffindor’ll automatically win.”“I didn’t mean that kind of charm,” Jack says, under his breath.In which Dan is roped into playing Quidditch when all he really wants is a quiet life. And for Phil to never leave Hogwarts.

Road to Acceptance Series @anerdwithakoreanhaircut - Dan never thought alcohol could bring anything but misery into his life, and…well, he was kind of right; the headache was painful and the memories of how he spent his 18th birthday were gone. He manages to break into someone else’s home. But it’s because of the alcohol he meets Phil, who impacts his life in more ways than one.

If You Think you Know Me @ineverhadmyinternetphase - Fiction. Phil’s a police Sergeant. He’s been itching to get promoted to Inspector for ages, but to do so, he needs to crack his biggest case - famed internet hacker the Howler. Phil’s been after him for years, but he’d never managed to get even a hint towards his identity. When he meets a hot stranger in a bar one night, Phil thinks his luck might just be turning up. But maybe getting close to this particular stranger isn’t the best idea.

Everything You Never Wanted - Phil is an omega, he’s spent nearly his entire life going to Eastbrook, an omega only school. When his parents make the decision to transfer him into an alpha,beta,omega school his whole life is turned upside down. Especially when he meets Dan Howell, an alpha who can’t seem to stand him. No matter how hard the two try to avoid each other the universe seems to keep pulling them together.

Our Threadbare Lies @ramonaspeaks - Dan is eighteen years old and newly single. He’s ready to come out to his family but he thinks it would be a hell of a lot easier if he had a boyfriend to help him through it.

Taking Every Chance I’ve Got - All Dan wanted was to get drunk, really. Have a good time, meet a few new people. He didn’t really think about getting involved with someone as dangerous as Phil Lester (someone as cold, as pale and, well, as not alive), and he definitely didn’t think that one trip out to a bar would change his life forever.

Behind Closed Doors - Based very loosely on ‘A Little Princess’ and ‘David Copperfield’14 year old Dan Howell is sent away to boarding school leaving behind his abusive stepfather and incredibly ill mother. 17 year old Phil Lester is the school’s jack-of-all-trades who works his hardest under harsh circumstances to avoid the workhouse. The two boys meet and become close friends knowing they have to stick together if they are to survive the trials that lay ahead of them.

read between the lines (i will if you will) @phanbliss - Phil ^_^ (5:31 PM)Dan?danisNOTonfire xD i swear im really not. come check. (5:31 PM)yeah?Phil ^_^ (5:32 PM)I think I'm in love with youI justI can't wait to meet you--Skype conversations between Dan and Phil, leading up to their first meeting. 2009!Phan. Prepare for fluff.

First Impressions (Perhaps I Was Wrong) @phanbliss - Phil Lester goes back to university for his third year, expecting to live in the dorms with his childhood best friend PJ. That's how it's been for the past years, after all. However, due to a mistake of some sort, he finds himself with a new roommate to spend the semester with.Daniel Howell, three years his junior, has rich brown eyes, a laptop to hide them behind, and not more than two words to spare in Phil's direction. Phil is no fortune teller, but he foresees the upcoming months will be filled with a whole lot of awkward silence.Unless, of course, Dan proves him wrong...Could one little mistake lead to something entirely life-changing? Perhaps it could. After all, nearly everything changes when Phil meets Dan.-Excerpt: Dan's hair is soft against Phil's cheek, and his presence - gentle against his heart.Winner of Best Slow Burn in the Phanfic Awards 2016!

Reflections of the Heart - “Being told to dress up in a dinosaur onesie and have cereal catapulted at your face is a little odd. Waking up to find that you and your best friend have switched bodies? That’s fucking bizarre.”(Or, the multi-chaptered, slightly smutty bodyswap fic that no one asked for. Featuring whiny/annoying!Dan, sassy/beguiling!Phil, unintentional innuendos, intentional innuendos, unnecessary kitchen supplies, and just a pinch of magic).

Love Yourself @imnotinclinedtomaturity - A lot of things about Dan's life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he's got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He's currently lacking inspiration, he's rather lonely, and he's stuck in a rut.Dan's been going to the same coffee shop for years. It's quiet, it's quaint, it's near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that's he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista.

In My Way @ineverhadmyinternetphase - Daniel Howell is 21 and Britain’s newest star. He’s just been cast in the much-anticipated film adaption of Last Man Standing, the popular teen fantasy novel with a huge fanbase hanging off his every tweet. In other words, Dan has made it big.Phil Lester couldn’t care less. He’s a stressed out PHD student working part time at a bookshop while he struggles to get into post-production. He’s 26 and still lives in a tiny flat on the fifth floor of a building with a lift more broken than it is in use. He loves books, but he thinks big film adaptions screw with the plot too much.Needless to say, Phil is less than impressed when Last Man Standing is getting filmed in his hometown. And he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with obnoxious, arrogant, so irritatingly perfect leading actor Daniel Howell.

Let Me Down Gently @ineverhadmyinternetphase - AU in which Dan is (briefly) a lawyer, until he gets fired and kicked out by his girlfriend. Wandering alone at night looking for a place to stay, he happens across a slightly strange man who introduces himself as Phil and who owns a B&B. Without much choice, Dan takes up the offer to stay there, and quickly grows to have a certain fondness for Phil. There’s only one problem: Phil runs the B&B with his long-term partner Alex.

jump a lil higher @snsknene - Dan co-hosts The Breakfast Show. Phil's his new producer. They fall in love, assisted by a bunch of romcom tropes I refuse to apologise for.

danandphilKINKS @snsknene - "I've got mine!" Dan said, waving it triumphantly. Phil knew this was serious, then, because a) he hadn't procrastinated on it at all, and b) it was barely legible: he'd handwritten it.Or: Dan and Phil have a bucket list. Except with less seeing the Great Wall of China and more Googling how to wash enema.

Strangers @waveydnp - dan is new to london and living in a mostly empty flat, desperate to forget the mistakes of his past. he's all alone -- until one day he gets a piece of mail addressed to someone in the neighbouring flat, one mr. philip lester. he can't exactly not return it, can he?

a match and a fuse @waveydnp - Phil is twenty six years old and stuck in a dead end life. He works at Starbucks and may or may not be carrying a torch for his best friend of eight years. He doesn't know who he is or what he wants--or how to go about figuring it out.That all starts to change when he happens upon the resume of a certain law school grad named Daniel.

[iddyissett-blog]

Gone Home

Iddy had somehow managed to go his entire, cognitive life without boarding a plane. Why would he want to fly thousands of miles into the air in what was essentially a metal tube? But with everything that had been happening, his own thoughts conflicting each other and the feeling that he was slowly losing who he was, Iddy knew he had to do what he’d been putting off for years.

It was time for Iddy to go home.

So, he packed his bag, booked a ticket, and took a flight to New York.

He told his mother he was coming back the night before he left Soapberry. He said it was just for a week, that he wasn’t staying forever, and that it had to be kept quiet. Not only did he want to keep a low profile because the cult was still active, and one or more members wanted him dead, but because Iddy didn’t think he could handle explaining everything to everyone in a short space of time.

The only person from Soapberry he told was Iann. Partly because Iddy didn’t want people thinking he’d left town without saying goodbye, but mostly because he was scared he wouldn’t come back for darker reasons.

Jon, Iddy’s father, was the one to pick him up from the airport after he landed. There was no one else with him, and they hugged for a long time once they saw each other at the arrivals. The drive back to Tribeca was silent, neither party willing to say anything for fear of saying the wrong thing or opening up too much. In that drive back to the apartment that had been Iddy’s home since he was born, he found a lot more similarities between him and his father than he’d ever noticed before. The nervous ticks, Iddy chewing the laces of his hood and Jon biting at his thumb. The quick, almost unnoticeable side glances at each other. The way their upper lips hung over the bottom lips more prominently when they were deep in thought.

Parking the car in Apartment 32’s spot, walking up the old stone steps and unlocking the door with key one, checking the mailbox with key two, walking up more steps and unlocking the door with key three; a routine that  Iddy knew off by heart and yet felt so distant from it now.

The apartment felt like home, smelled like home, sounded like home, but it wasn’t anymore. Some things had changed, which would be expected after 3 years away. Instead of vinyl records playing softly in the background, it was replaced by a digital music player.

“Did you get an Amazon Echo?” he asked his dad when he spotted the black cylindrical piece of tech on the coffee table, a hint of amusement in his voice as he imagined him asking Alexa what he had on his calendar for the day and arguing that it was incorrect.

Before Jon could answer, the sound of Iddy’s voice alerted his mother from the study and she came stomping out. For such a small woman, she could make some noise. Nashira sighed heavily, her hands clutching her chest as she walked up to her son. She tried to talk, but she could find the right words to say, and instead just wrapped her arms around her boy, tears wetting the front of his hoody.

The first evening went by without much being said about Iddy’s disappearance. The three of them talked about Soapberry, what the town was like and what there was to do for fun there. Iddy talked about his job at Erzebets, about his bosses and his colleagues, and about the owner Bellamy who put his own created cocktail on the menu. They already knew about Iann and the shop, but they talked about their new home with Dani, and about Dani and their kindness of taken them in. He talked about the university a little bit, but didn’t go into much detail about what he was studying and just that he was getting help with his reading and math skills, hopefully, so he could get a GED and maybe even study some business skills when he feels confident enough.

Jon and Nashira asked him the usual questions. Did he register with a doctor, does the doctor know what medication he takes, are they keeping track of his weight and blood pressure with the medications. Iddy just answered yes to all of them, not wanting to worry them if he said “No, I don’t take medication anymore because it doesn’t work,”

After excusing himself to bed early, he lay in his childhood bed, with the band and movie posters from the 90’s covering the walls, still not taken down after thirteen years of not living in this bedroom, he listened to his parents talking. They were speaking in hushed tones through the walls, a human would think they were sat in silence listening to music, but not Iddy with his vampiric hearing. They spoke about him, naturally. About how he was avoiding the topic of why he left in the first place, how everyone thought he was dead. “I am dead,” he said quietly to himself in reply. They also decided to not tell Iddy that his sister was coming around tomorrow. They spoke about how bad it was going to be between the two of them, but they warned Imani not to frighten him off, that they needed him to stay for the entire week and that she needed to at least consider letting Iddy meet Alaina, his niece.

It was around 8am when Imani came barging through the door, throwing her handbag down on the dining table hard while Iddy still had a mouth full of cereal. She barraged him with insults and expletives, but Iddy kept his gaze down and took it all in and didn’t argue back like he would have done normally. His parents were trying to get her to calm down, so was her husband, Krishna, who came into the dining room after keeping his distance from them before he realised that his wife was getting out of hand. Her brother’s silence made Imani more upset than she had anticipated, choking down tears and willing him to fight back.

“Do you not have anything to say for yourself? Nothing to say at all about the hell you put this family through for three fucking year?!”

Iddy sat quietly for another few seconds before he answered, just to make sure she wasn’t going to yell over the top of him while he tried to speak. “I’m sorry that I left, but you’re never going to understand what happened to me. What I went through,” he said, unable to look at any of his family.

“What don’t we understand, Idris? You’re not going to let us even try to?” Imani said, almost hopelessly. She spent so much time, energy and money to find him, only to realise he was a runaway. She wasted her last bit of anger and upset on him and was only feeling despair now.

“Remember those people that went missing and all suddenly turned up without remembering where they’d been? How people were trying to figure out why there was some kind of mini-epidemic of people with amnesia? I was one of them. Except I didn’t have amnesia I remember everything that happened to us. We were kidnapped, one by one. Tortured, humiliated, some of them killed by accident. And I couldn’t just come home after that because I wasn’t the same person anymore, I’m…”

Iddy was cut off by his brother-in-law walking over to him quickly and grabbing his face, glaring into his eyes like he was thinking whether or not to snap his neck. That was when Iddy heard the high pitched, shrieking noise, but it felt like it was coming directly through Krishna’s hands and into his brain, piecing like needles and making Iddy squirm.

Krishna dropped his hands, letting out a long sigh as he did, and the noise inside Iddy’s head stopped immediately. The man looked to his wife first, then to his father- and mother-in-law. Nobody said anything, but there was an unspoken acceptance between them all. “It’s ok, kiddo,” was all he said. Iddy felt like simultaneously hugging Krishna and punching him in the face.

For the next few hours, they all spoke the truth. Krishna came from a family of witches with the gift of mind reading, which was Imani’s introduction to the supernatural world, though she didn’t know the truth for the first 4 years of their relationship. Keeping the Sai’s powers a secret was important to them because they were already a high profile family, the risk of hunters trying to destroy their coven and their family was high. Iddy asked if that meant Preeti, his ex-girlfriend and also Krishna’s cousin, was also a witch. She was not, but she did know about the supernatural world and her mother’s family’s talent for mind reading.

Iddy then found out that his parents, too, knew about the supernatural world. Jon, a successful academic of sociology, found out about supernaturals through his studies and scholarly connections. He had friends who researched pack and coven dynamics, looking into the differences in lifestyle and social standings of lone wolves and witches and the effects of surviving past vampiric expiration. Nashira knew of the supernatural world in a way, caring for the psychological health of children, they tended to reveal more than they were supposed to. Naturally, she placed it down to the protective, fantasy land that troubled children built around themselves to deal with or hide from their trauma. But when she married Jon, she discovered that at least some of those children were actually telling the truth, and her husband helped with those cases to determine whether it was real or make believe.

Krishna, Imani, Jon and Nashira all knew of Soapberry. They knew it was a hidden away town where supernatural people went in search of safety, so when Iddy finally decided to reveal where he was living, that’s when the pieces started falling into place. That maybe he was hiding because he was turned into something that was no longer human. And now, thanks to Krishna, they all knew the truth. That he was a vampire.

Once everything was out in the open, a huge weight had been lifted from Iddy’s shoulders. He didn’t need to be secretive anymore because they knew. And finally, after a year of heartache and longing, he got to meet his niece.

Alaina was goofy, giggly and so full of joy that Iddy couldn’t even take it all in. He never realized how much he could love someone until he met her. She instantly was attached to him, like she knew who he was and that he wasn’t a strange man in his grandma’s house. Like she knew he was always there, somewhere, waiting to meet her.

Her dark curly hair and dark brown eyes were enchanting. The way her tiny hands grabbed at his face melted his heart. Everything about her was perfect. Iddy felt the all the happiness and joy that had been drained away over the years had returned to him when he was with Alaina. He knew that she was the missing piece to their family, so even if he wasn’t nearby, she was there.

At the end of the seven days, Iddy was torn as to whether or not to go back to Soapberry. Now that he knew his family was still there, still accepting and still the same, he wondered if his place was there in New York City. But, he knew there was still business he needed to attend to in Washington, and it wasn’t time to come back yet. Not just yet.