#hey sorry i vanished without a trace and been gone so long

[rpmemes-galore]

.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

can you PLEASEEEE do something with the idea of reader stealing/wearing katsukis clothes?? you’re the only one who i think will fully do this idea justice xx

pure fluff, reader is a thief, reader likes the way katsuki smells, roughhousing lol kinda ?? katsuki sorta tackles you, katsuki is a meanie, tickling, no pronouns mentioned in this one I don’t think ! lemme know if i missed sum else !!

a/n : hey so this has been sittin in my drafts for literal decades omg IM SO SORRY🙁🙁🙁🙁ALSO BTW TYSM FOR THINKIN I COULD DO UR ASK JUSTICE I WAS SO FLATTERED WHEN I READ THIS I WAS GIGGLING N SHIT🤭🤭i was always so excited for this ask but I literally never got around to doing it after my break n stuff, im slowly (and that’s suuuuper slowly im so sorry yall i suck) getting to all of your asks one at a time and im so grateful yall r still givin me the time of day honestly , so please be patient with me🤧💗💗💍 ! But anway enough dumping ! Anon if you’re still sticking around, i truly hope u enjoy this ! And ofc all of yall too ! much luv xxx!!

"you fuckin' thief.."

shit. you thought he'd be gone for longer.

lately, you’d been routinely sneaking into katsuki’s dorm room and nabbing some of his clothes. sweaters, hoodies, t-shirts : as long as they were in your reach, you’d grab them.

it's not your fault, really ! katsuki's clothes are so cosy and warm and they smell just like him. plus, they're perfect to snuggle in when he's busy, how could you not borrow them for a little while ?!

..except you can admit that you’ve been stalling..and a lot of his clothes were still in your room, but you still planned on giving them back..soon !

and you can’t even pretend, because you’re wearing on of his hoodies that had been missing for a good week now.

"katsuki, baby." you slowly lean away from his clothes drawer, your hand ready to snag a black hoodie of his slowly trailing towards the floor "i can explain."

"all my damn sweaters, my fuckin' hoodies. they all just vanished without a trace.." he starts, slowly stalking over to you. you squeak, slowing getting on your knees to prepare yourself should you have to break his ankles and sprint out of the room. he's fuming, eyebrows twitching "thought i was goin' crazy.."

"and all this time.."

"suki.." you try, voice wobbly as your knees shake with each step closer he gets.

"it's been fucking YOU ?!"

and he pounces.

with a squeal, you scramble and dash away just as he leaps for you and narrowly misses, he's got you cornered as you're on opossite sides of his bed while you beg for mercy and he keeps yelling at you to 'come here'. in a panick you grab one of his pillows and fling it at him.

it feels like the pillow slides down his face in slow motion to reveal a look so vile a demon appearing in front of you right now would scare you less

“you’re. so. dead.”

there’s really nowhere else for you to go. you’re truly cornered, you might as well just be buried right now. you think about the leftovers waiting for you in the fridge and how sero still hadn’t returned the manga he’d leant from you, but you’ve lived a pretty good life.

before your body can decide to move, katsuki leaps over to you tackling you and having you land straight onto his bed with a loud shriek.

frantically, you wave your hands around “wait, wait pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” but your begs of mercy are cut off when katsuki jams a finger into your side, causing you to yelp. he hovers over you with a mean smirk. and you know what’s coming.

“katsu—”

you don’t even get to finish before he jams his hands into your sides and mercilessly tickles you.

from an outsiders point of view? this is harmless. but your boyfriend is mean and the biggest asshole in the world because he knows all of your weak spots and the places he knows will have you shaking and gasping for breath. it felt like actually torture, really.

“thought you could get away with it, huh ?” he sneers, leaning down a bit more so he’s eye level with you “thought you could keep taking my shit and i’d just neeever find out, hm ? yeah ?”

“b-but i—ah ! didn’t—!” you gasp and squeal, choking on the sentences you can’t manage to push out of your throat as your eyes squeeze closed. you don’t have to see his face to know he’s enjoying this.

“you’re a fuckin’ thief.” he spits, backing up from you so you don’t headbutt him square in the nose from your thrashing. you’re response is nothing but a harsh gasp and he smirks wider.

you think he’s finally, finally taken pity on you when his fingers slow to a stop, but he glares down at you, hands still on either sides of you “say it.”

you can’t even catch your breath before he hurriedly pressed closer to your sides to scare you, you shriek “stop ! m’sorry !”

“not what i wanted you to say, try again.”

“you’re—” you take a breath “sucha”

his fingers graze your shirt and his eyes are wide, daring you to finish your sentence, you bring your hands up to try to hide his field of vision.

“OKAY ! okay, okay…” you slowly lower your hands away, finally dropping them at your sides with a sigh “m’ a thief…” you mumble in defeat, embarrassment creeping up on you not only from the fact that you got caught but that the blond above you clearly enjoyed your torture if the evil snickers you heard we’re any sign of that.

he hums in satisfaction “mhm, no good fuckin’ thief. should lock you up and throw away the key on your ass.” you hate how handsome he looks when he’s playful like this with you. your sides still hurt and your voice is croaky from how out of breath you were and for a moment you seriously thought you saw the pearly gates.

you pout, and all it does is make him smile wider.

your boyfriend is mean. and the biggest asshole in the entire fucking world.

“s’not my fault..your clothes are comfy.” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “and they smell good.”

he scoffs, leaning down closer towards you “that’s cus i fuckin’ wash them. and i haven’t been able to lately cus someone’s been stealing my entire closet.”

“i didn’t !”

“was boutta make me walk around naked, ya moron. all my clothes are gone.” you roll your eyes, he never lacked in the dramatics department.

“you’re such a drama queen.” you whine, sinking into his comforter. he ignores you and he presses your cheeks together with one hand, chuckling at your smooched cheeks and furrowed brows.

“stop stealing my stuff.” he announces slowly. he’s clear, no way you could’ve misunderstood him anyway. he sighs and presses a quick peck to your lips still pressed together

“if you want one of my sweaters r’something, jus’ come ask me. can give you one..or whatever.” he finishes, voice slightly muffled in embarrassment as he shoves his mouth against yours again and again making wet kissing sounds and you manage a giggle. he rolls his eyes, but a smile slowly crawls up his face anyway as he releases your cheeks. you let out a happy sigh, opening and closing your mouth to get rid of the slight soreness.

“take this shit off though.” he tugs at the hoodie you’re wearing “stinks. need to put it in the wash.”

“no it doesn’t !” you protest, pressing the color against your nose in an attempt to keep it close to you “it smells like you!” you pout. he doesn’t respond for a bit, opting to squint at you while the tips of his ears turned pink. and in a second his snatched the bottom of it and ripped it off of you, ripping a pathetic scream from you.

he examined his hoodie with an unreadable expression before his eyes land back on you for a second, then he slowly starts folding up his sweater “you trynna say i stink ?” he says lowly.

“no. i wouldn’t wear your clothes if they were nasty” you scrunch up your nose “you can take back the sweater in my room, though. the smell is starting to wear off.”

“gee, thanks for offering to give me my sweater back. weirdo” he glares, spitting his words out sarcastically and you giggle at his extra emphasis on his ownership of the hoodie which earns you a huff.

“ i’m grabbing all the shit you took from me, and they stay with me.” he starts warningly “but you can keep this, i guess..” he adds, patting on his now folded hoodie ready for a cleaning. you smile happily, running your socked feet into his blankets.

“ oh, but don’t forget to wear it first after you washed it, want it to smell like you. otherwise there’s no point.”

“you really are a fucking weirdo.” he spits, but the way his cheeks burn bright red say he’s not truly mad about it. you laugh, and katsuki grumbles. “hope you learned your lesson, freak.” he taunts. you hum in fake thought, then release a sigh.

“yeah, i guess i did.” you concede, and he nods proudly.

and sure, yeah, you’re boyfriend’s a big meanie. but you do a great job at riling him up.

“for now.”

[soraavalon]

DM: But you guys are able to then, so Moriarty who are you casting Invisibility on? Moriarty: Whoever I cast on and I guess Mary will get the rest, so I cast on Nathaniel. So yeah, I give Nathaniel a reassuring pat on the back and all of a sudden he's gone. DM: He disappears. Nathaniel (OOC): Hahaha, you disintegrated my boi. Tark (OOC): The boy! DM: Do you fill Literate in on that there's a second level to this or...? Tark (OOC): Oh no. Moriarty (OOC): That's a good question, do we do that? Marigold (OOC): No. Hunt (OOC): No, it's best not to get Literate involved. Literate: Umm?! Tark: All of a sudden the other three vanish. Hunt (OOC): Maybe there should have been some separation Marigold (OOC): We just tell them they have guild stuff to do and don't expand on that. DM: Okay, as long as she's aware of that something else is going on. Moriarty (OOC): Yeah. Tark (OOC): 'Cause then all of a sudden we just fuckin' vanish. Marigold: They have to go do guild stuff. We wanted to go shopping. Literate: Okay. Moriarty: Really, I wanted to see if I could get my money back from that... Marigold: I wanted to go shopping. Literate: Right. Okay. DM: So the rest of you are turned invisible. Tark (OOC): Holdin' hands. DM: Holding hands and familiars and head out into the fray. Tark (OOC): Should I do Pass Without Trace now or should we wait? DM: You should do it first before you are turned invisible because it will dispel. Hunt (OOC): Yeah, casting... DM: And if you cast a spell, you will lose your invisibility. Hunt (OOC): We learned that last night. Marigold (OOC): On purpose though last night. Hunt (OOC): Yeah. DM: Yes, it was on purpose, but yeah. -clarifying to Thaddius that Channel Divinity is not the same thing as Domain Spells- Tark: Anyway, okay first Pass Without Trace and then Invisibility. DM: Mm-hmm. Tark: Let's all roll what our... DM: Yeah, so go ahead and roll stealth with advantage, +10 Hunt (OOC): *laughing and rolling* Tark (OOC): Thank god we had advantage. Marigold (OOC): I swear to god if any of you fucking fail. Tark (OOC): Thank god we have advantage. My first one was a 2. DM: Post in the chat in Roll20, please. Nathaniel (OOC): I'm sorry, what happens if I, I know I have advantage, but what happens if I use my inspiration. Is that just reroll one of them? DM: Reroll one of them. Nathaniel: *rolls* great, I'll take that. DM: It's basically a third roll. Moriarty (OOC): Was it that bad? Nathaniel (OOC): I rolled a 1 and a 2. -various 'Oh's- Tark: [in chat] 28 for Tark Hunt: [in chat] 36 Tark: My first one was a 2, so I'm really glad we had advantage. Eudora: [in chat] 25 stealth. Tark (OOC): 36!? Moriarty (OOC): holy shit Hunt. Tark (OOC): Fuck, Hunt! DM: Hunt straight up disappears. Eudora (OOC): My first was also a 2, the advantage does definitely... Hunt (OOC): My first roll was a 3. My second was a 17. Tark (OOC): Jesus. Hunt (OOC): I have a +9 then +10, so... Nathaniel: I rolled an 11. DM: Alright, yeah, not bad. You guys vanish, barely managed to grab Hunt's arm before she is gone forever. -laughter- Moriarty (OOC): You're not really sure you're holding onto Hunt anymore. DM: It might not be Hunt, it may just be... Tark might be holding Nathaniel twice. -laughter- DM: You're not sure. Tark (OOC): We hear Hunt's voice from like 20 feet ahead of us and we're like 'What the fuck?!' DM: 'Whoa! Hey!' Tark (OOC): Who's the front person we're holding? DM:  But you all begin to make your way there.

[leffee]

Vinnie wandered through the fields, his eyes scanning the endless sea of greenery. It was a warm summer day, and the sun beat down on the landscape, painting everything in golden hues. As he walked, something caught his eye—a flash of vibrant yellow amidst the green.

Curious, Vinnie approached cautiously, unsure of what he would find. As he drew closer, he realized it was a sunflower standing tall and proud, its petals reaching towards the sky. He had seen sunflowers before, of course, but there was something different about this one. It seemed to glow with an inner light, radiating warmth and happiness.

Mesmerized, Vinnie reached out a hand to touch the soft petals, marveling at their silky texture. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the flower, feeling as though he was being drawn into its beauty.

Excitedly, Vinnie dashed back through the fields, his heart racing with the anticipation of sharing his discovery with his friends. He couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces when they saw the magnificent sunflower.

But as he reached the spot where he had left the sunflower, his heart sank. The vibrant yellow petals were nowhere to be seen, and the spot where the sunflower had stood tall was now empty.

Confusion and disappointment flooded over Vinnie. How could it be gone so suddenly? Had someone picked it, or had it simply vanished into thin air?

Frantically, Vinnie searched the area, hoping against hope that he would find some trace of the sunflower. But no matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of it.

Feeling defeated, Vinnie sank to the ground, his spirits as wilted as the flower he had come to love. He had been so eager to share his discovery, so excited to show his friends the beauty he had found. And now, it was gone, vanished without a trace.

As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, Vinnie felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw his friends gathered around him, concern etched on their faces.

"What's wrong, Vinnie?" Russell asked.

Vinnie sighed, struggling to find the words to explain. "I found the most amazing sunflower," he said softly. "But when I came back to show you, it was gone."

His friends exchanged glances, sympathy evident in their eyes..

Just then Penny Ling rounded the corner, her eyes lit up with excitement, and she held the sunflower delicately in her hand.

"Hey, guys, look what I found!" she exclaimed, displaying the flower proudly. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

Vinnie's heart sank for a moment as he realized that Penny had been the one to pick the sunflower. He had hoped it would remain in the field for everyone to enjoy.

"Penny, you picked it?" Vinnie asked, trying to keep disappointment out of his voice.

Penny nodded, her smile faltering as she sensed Vinnie's disappointment. "I'm sorry, Vinnie. I didn't know.”

Vinnie sighed, but then he smiled warmly at Penny. "It's okay, Penny. It's still beautiful, and I'm glad you found it."

With a heavy heart, Vinnie quietly excused himself from the group and began to walk away.

As he walked, Vinnie couldn't shake the sense of disappointment that lingered within him. He had been so excited to share the sunflower with his friends, but now that moment had been tainted by the knowledge that it had been picked without consideration for his feelings.

Lost in his thoughts, Vinnie wandered aimlessly through the fields, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet afternoon air. He knew he should forgive Penny and move on, but the sting of disappointment was hard to shake.

After what felt like an eternity, Vinnie found himself at the edge of the field, gazing out at the vast expanse of greenery stretching out before him. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape.

Vinnie turned and made his way back to his friends. As he rejoined them, he plastered a smile on his face, determined not to let his disappointment overshadow the rest of the day.

As Vinnie rejoined the group, Sunil noticed the lingering sadness in his friend's eyes. Sensing that something was amiss, Sunil gently pulled Vinnie aside.

"Hey, Vinnie, are you okay?" Sunil asked, his voice filled with concern.

Vinnie forced a smile, not wanting to burden his friend with his feelings. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied quietly, but Sunil could see through the facade.

Without another word, Sunil wrapped Vinnie in a tight hug, offering silent support and understanding. Vinnie hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace, grateful for Sunil's comforting presence.

"I really liked that flower," Vinnie admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sunil tightened his embrace, understanding the weight of Vinnie's emotions without needing any further explanation. "I know, Vinnie. I know," he murmured softly, his voice filled with empathy and reassurance.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, finding solace in each other's presence, before finally releasing each other and rejoining the group.

Bro I've been holding onto this one for a while, haven't I? Part of the reason is because I wanted to find something else to talk about here but I honestly think I already said everything I wanted when I dm'd you right when I got it and started yapping :'). I think I even said something about Vinnie liking sunflowers cause he likes the sun cause he likes being warm and you know SUNflowers. But just in case I didn't - it's here.

I don't like leaving those without any additional comments but I genuinely think I have already told you everything I had directly. See, that's why I need to stop being so impulsive with those cause instead of properly replying in those asks I do it in dm's and then have nothing else to say xd.

But here it is for anyone else that might want to read it ^^.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

HELLO! I'm here with a TWF request! Fully platonic fic, but a fic where a close friend and employee of Jack Walters finds him as Bon and recognizes him after they spent months looking for him when he went missing. Maybe it could be a Angst/Comfort fic as well! - moss

Closure.

The one thing you thought you'll never get.

For several long months you've been searching for Jack, wondering where he could have gone. Of course Rosemary was just as fretful, but she searched the restaurant nonstop in a hopeless struggle until one day...

She went missing, too.

The number of friends and coworkers who've gone missing without a trace left you paranoid that you'll be the next victim.

But to who?

You didn't know, although when you visited the restaurant when it was open..Bon always gave you odd stares. Like he was watching and waiting for you to make one wrong move.

Fortunately he never lunged off the stage or did anything more than stare.

Even so, it was kinda creepy. You couldn't help but felt like there was some....unusual connection between him and Jack. Like anytime you mentioned his name, Bon would turn his head.

You've been afraid to confront him alone until now.

Recently you received word from Felix that a new storage facility--called K-9--had been established in the heart of Saint Juana's forest. A temporary place for the animatronics until he could finish the paperwork for some "Relocate Project".

You thought he'd be more concerned about Jack and everyone else who went missing, but he seemed obsessed with keeping the franchise alive.

Although you were close to giving up hope, you believed this facility was the last clue.

Your last chance at finding Jack.

..........

"K-9..wonder if that pun was intended.." You mused as you arrived at the storage facility.

After watching the training tapes, you got everything you needed, including a set of keys for the main entrance and the rooms within it. Once inside, it took you a while to find the animatronics.

Plus it was so dark and cramped, even with your flashlight guiding you. It made you feel more uneasy by the second.

Still..you took a deep breath and pushed forward, determined to finish your mission.

At some point you finally arrived at one of the rooms mentioned in the tape--a room that hid the animatronics and their spare parts.

Your eyes immediately landed on Bon, who was laying against the wall. The poor rabbit looked like he's seen better days. The fabric casing around his lower arms and legs had been removed, and his teeth had chipped away into sharp points.

In a way they looked like old dentures, which didn't help the creepiness of his overall appearance.

"There's gotta be some light in here.." You grumbled as you shook the flashlight, seeing it was growing dimmer, before deciding to look for a switch.

Though when you finally found one, that's when your flashlight decided to die. "Huh?" With a frown you shook it again, confused.

But you froze when you heard the sounds of mechanical clunking, briefly glancing back at the darkness. "B-Bon..?"

Silence answered you.

'Maybe something fell...just relax, [y/n].' Sighing, you turned on the switch, which illuminated the room only slightly.

But hey, it was better than nothing.

Though you heard heavy breathing noises--which sounded awfully organic--and nervously turned around to see Bon towering over you. You jumped a little as he cackled, clearly taking delight in your fright.

"J-Jeez..you're fast, huh?"

As his clawed hand reached out to you, he hesitated and tilted his eyes, confused at your lack of terror.

Not only that but..something about you seemed familiar..

While he remained still, you seized the opportunity to do something that would most likely be the death of you.

You stepped forward and embraced him.

Yes. You were hugging the tall decrepit rabbit animatronic. Now he was more tense than ever before, wondering what on earth you were doing. "Wh-Wh-What's this now? A hug-g-g?" His voice was choppy and warped, but still held that snarky tone he was known for.

"Yeah, I missed you." You sighed and stepped away, gazing up at him. "And I..really miss Jack. Maybe I was a fool to think he'd be here. But if you ever see him, Bon..tell him I'm sorry about his children, Ed and Molly."

Bon just stared at you. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but it seemed your efforts were in vain.

What were you thinking? He probably didn't even know Jack since he was still being built by Susan when he vanished.

"Well, I'll see how your other friends are doing, I guess. See you around, Bon." Forcing a smile, you turned around in disappointment and heartache.

'Damnit, another dead end. Maybe he IS gone and I haven't-'

"Wait..[y/n]..."

With wide eyes, you slowly looked back at him, shocked.

Bon spoke yet again, but his voice sounded...deeper yet softer. It had the same kind of distorted undertones, though you could easily recognize the all-too-familiar voice of-

"Are you..mimicking him, Bon? Because this isn't funny-"

"It's easier to show than explain. I'm sorry.."

You fell silent as he reached up to grip his mask. He seemed to struggle a bit, but he slowly peeled it off and lowered it so you could finally see the man you've been searching for.

Your colleague, boss, and best friend:

Jack Walten, and his rotten decayed face.

His hair was somehow still there, but far more matted and sticking to the bloody wounds on his skin. Through the black tuffs you could make out his teeth--the lips ripped off and forming a permanent smile that mirrored the rabbit's.

The mechanical parts to the animatronic eyes were practically shoved into his empty sockets. As if...Jack was forced to see the world through Bon's eyes.

It was such a nauseating sight, but instead of being terrified all you could wonder was:

Did he do this to himself?

No...he wouldn't have. This couldn't have been an accident or some suicide. The Jack you knew wouldn't have done something like this to himself.

But what sick bastard would shove him into this suit and leave him here to rot?

"J-Jack...who did this to you?" Your voice wavered with anger. "Tell me, please. I wanna know who killed you."

Jack didn't answer. Instead he put the mask back on; it seemed Bon was crying now, his eyes leaking an oily substance as his hands trembled. "E-Ed...Molly...Rose....S-Sophie...Felix...Felix-x..." His voice became more warped and distorted, merged with his creation's.

Loud mechanical grinding from inside him was making him twitch violently as he clutched his snout.

"Jack."

Bon froze and looked down at you, tilting his head.

"I know you want your family back..trust me, I know how much you loved them. You used to show me Ed's and Molly's concepts of the Showstoppers and..you said they'd grow up to be amazing artists." You smiled, wiping the tears from your eyes. "They would've loved them..they would've loved Bon. They basically brought him to life."

His green eyes glowed a bit brighter and he giggled as he crouched down slightly. "E-Eddie and Molly would'a loved me? Of course..wh-who wouldn't love me-e-e-e?"

Now you saw that Bon was back in control; it was clear that he and Jack were at war with each other. Sadly that might be the last you'll probably hear of your friend's voice for a while.

But...it's safe to say that he had been found.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Hello Bea , your writing is IMMACULATE <3, also can I ask for whumpee 37 ?

Whumpee 37: “I'm- I'm dizzy-”

Aah, Anon you are making me blush 😊 thank youu, and of course you can! Thought I'd try writing a slightly different caretaker than what I usually go for... I hope you like it <3

-

Caretaker rolls their eyes and takes a deep breath as Whumpee goes on with their endless babble. They’ve been talking nonstop for so long that the part of Caretaker that doesn’t want to yell at them to stop, wonders how Whumpee hasn’t run out of things to say yet.

“…and, if you think about it, cloaks are the very best clothing item,” Whumpee says, shooting Caretaker an excited smile that isn’t returned. Whumpee barely notices. “It’s like a blanket, but socially acceptable! You can just put on a specially made blanket and walk around wearing it and that is considered fashionable, isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeah, Whumpee. Amazing.”

They don’t notice the lack of patience in Caretaker’s tone either.

“I think we should get another cloak at our next stop. We could use a spare one, and yours is looking a little worn, don’t you think?”

“Whumpee, don’t you ever shut up?” Caretaker snaps before they can stop themself.

Big, hurt eyes turn to Caretaker’s, but they make sure to ignore the pang of guilt that wounded look awakens in them.

“Sorry,” Whumpee mumbles, lowering their eyes. Have they always looked this small? “Whumper didn’t like it when I talked too much either. I just thought that now that we got out, you wouldn’t mind it if I… Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“It’s fine, kiddo,” Caretaker sighs, frowning at Whumpee’s hunched shoulders. “You can talk, I was just being an old–”

Whoosh.

“Hide!” Caretaker shouts when the second arrow flies through the air right beside their head.

Whumpee sprints to hide behind the closest tree, as does Caretaker. Their weapons are unsheathed to the sound of flying arrows behind them.

“I think I counted three of them,” Whumpee says hurriedly, turning their head to try and get a glimpse of the attackers. “One waiting a little ahead and the other two hidden among the trees on the other side of the road.”

“You take the one ahead, I’ll take the other ones,” Caretaker whispers, and Whumpee nods.

The fight doesn’t last long. Despite being outnumbered, both Whumpee and Caretaker are far more skilled than Whumper’s men, and it takes only a few minutes for the three guards to be lying unconscious on the dirt.

With no rope to tie them up, they settle on throwing the guard’s weapons as far as they can in hopes that’ll slow them down.

They exchange a silent nod, and start to run.

Caretaker’s heart speeds as fast as their feet, blood rushing through their veins and prompting a breathless laugh to leave their lips as they stop.

“Well, that was crazy,” they pant, bending over and leaning on their knees. “Whumpee come on, you couldn’t stop talking until a few moments ago, and now you decide to finally shut up? Did you see their faces–”

When they look back though, every last trace of a smile vanishes from Caretaker's face.

Whumpee sways on their feet a few paces behind, holding a growing red stain on their side. They blink at the ground and swallow once before looking up.

“I– I’m dizzy–”

Whumpee’s knees buckle, and Caretaker sprints forward, catching them only a moment before Whumpee’s head hits the ground.

“Oh fuck. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t… didn’t want to disturb you any more,” Whumpee gasps, squeezing their eyes shut and grinding their teeth together.

Caretaker opens their mouth, but no word comes out as they stare at Whumpee’s pale lips and heaving chest.

“We have to get you to a healer.”

Whumpee whimpers, but their head moves up and down once, and that’s enough for Caretaker to scoop them up in their arms, grimacing when a sharp cry leaves Whumpee’s tightly shut lips.

“Sorry,” Caretaker mutters, already darting towards what looks like a city on the horizon.

“Shouldn’t we go through the woods?” Whumpee says with a slight sob. “If the guards found us once they, they could find us… again. We can’t… can’t take the road.”

“The road is faster.”

“But–”

“Whumpee. You are more important than the risk of getting caught.”

They lean their head against Caretaker’s chest at that, and after a soft “okay,” Whumpee doesn’t say anything else.

Oddly enough, the silence echoing around Caretaker, only the sound of their boots hitting the ground and the whisper of the wind in their ears, sounds as wrong as the warmth of Whumpee’s blood dripping on their hands.

Caretaker had never thought they could miss the incessant chatter so much, and yet they’d give anything to hear it once more. The silence is too loud without Whumpee’s voice filling it. Almost as loud as the fear roaring inside their chest.

When they look down and find Whumpee with their eyes closed, Caretaker speeds up.

“Hey, Whumpee.” Their eyebrows crease a little, and unfocused eyes flutter open, straining for a moment before focusing on Caretaker’s face. “You can’t fall asleep. Stay with me, kid. Why don’t you tell me about the cloaks?”

“You don’t want to… hear about them,” comes the quiet answer.

“But I do. They are mankind’s greatest invention, isn’t that right?”

“You, you were paying attention?”

It hurts. It burns, to hear the surprise in Whumpee’s voice.

“Of course I was,” Caretaker says through the lump in their throat. “Now, tell me all about it.”

“Caretaker, I… I want to sleep. Please, I’m so tired.”

“In a moment, honey. Stay awake for just a little bit longer, and then I’ll let you sleep. Alright?”

Whumpee nods, and Caretaker runs faster, holding their breath when Whumpee winces at the movement.

By the time Caretaker gets to the city, they can barely hold themself upright anymore. They do though, and when they stagger into the main square, there's no thought inside their head that isn't about the bleeding person in their arms. Whumpee has gone quiet minutes ago, and despite the painful twist in their stomach, Caretaker knew they only had so much strenght left, and it wouldn’t last to both talk Whumpee out of sleep and run.

“Please,” Caretaker gasps. “Please, we need help.”

But no one moves. A few people halt, staring at the blood and the desperation on their face, but no one moves to help.

Caretaker grits their teeth and darts wild eyes to unknown faces, feeling sticky blood, fresh and dry, staining their hands and their clothes.

“Please, somebody help them!” Caretaker shouts, a sob finally slipping out.

“Go get the healer,” someone screams, and Caretaker falls to their knees, holding Whumpee close to their chest as people surround them, asking questions they can’t concentrate long enough to answer.

“Please, please, you have to help them,” is all Caretaker says, again and again to whoever is listening.

When hands try to take Whumpee from Caretaker’s hands, they can’t help but hold them tighter.

“You need to let go now,” someone says calmly, staring deep into Caretaker’s wide eyes. “I can’t help them if you don’t let me.”

Caretaker looks down at Whumpee’s closed eyes and nods. “We got here, Whumpee. Now it’s on you, okay?” they whisper in a quivering voice. “You have to live. I’ll listen to you talk every day for the rest of our lives, about whatever you want to, no matter how long you go on for. You just have to fight, okay? I promise, I–”

Hands pull Whumpee from their arms, and this time Caretaker lets them. They watch as the healer lies Whumpee’s listless body on a stretcher, and only then do Caretaker’s body finally crumbles.

Caretaker passes out in stranger’s arms, but even though their legs shake and their head hurts, all they can think about is how they should've promised to buy Whumpee as many cloaks as they want.

They whisper that promise to themself, and then the world goes completely dark.

-

Prompt from this list

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[ellitx]

Chapter 13: Fidelity

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.9k

           In sun and clouds, the church spire reached into that every stretching blue. It was as if it spoke of the love of the community towards their god, that it too lasted in any weather and called on them to join and put their faith in him.

           When Aether and Paimon walked along the nave, the church choir was different compared to the other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voice was almost like angels, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, and they sang for the Anemo Archon only.

           The two waited to finish their practice before looking for a certain deaconess that might help them gather more information they needed. It wasn’t long before Barbara noticed them and approached the two with a welcoming smile.

           “Hello, Honorary Knight. What brings you here today?” 

           Paimon flew over her and leaned closer for a much better closeness to ask. 

           “We would like to ask you something about Barbatos!” She exclaimed fervently whilst she placed her small arms in front of her chest. A bright smile was then donned on the deaconess’s face, her blue eyes sparkling in delight at her words.

           “Oh! Are you two perhaps interested in serving Mondstadt’s very own Anemo archon as well?” Her tone had an obvious enthusiasm in it. Aether already felt bad that’s not what they were here for, and be that as it may, he still has to prioritize in searching for his lost sibling.

           “That’s not the case. We wanted to ask if by any chance the Anemo archon has a lover.”

           Barbara’s small pink lips parted trying to utter a single word however a short chuckle was what came from her mouth. It surprised them and was confused if they said something odd. Her delicate hands were now placed on her mouth to stifle her laughs, apologizing in between them, as small tears form from the corner of her eyes.

           “Sorry for suddenly laughing. I wasn’t expecting that’ll be your question. But to answer that, there are no stories or mentions if Barbatos had a lover or not in the past. If he did, it would’ve already been written in the books and be sung by the bards everywhere. You celebrated the Windblume Festival, right?" 

        The two gestured their heads as a yes. "Since you already know it's a festival about love and freedom, wouldn't the Windblume Festival be celebrated for both of them instead of Barbatos only? But just as I have said before, there were no tales about the God of Freedom having a lover.”

           Something clicked inside his head though it didn’t last for long as it suddenly fades away like a speckle of dust. 

           “That’s true…” He turned to look at Paimon who was all troubled and disturbed.

           He continued to listen further if there’ll be more clues but it seems like that’s the only information he’ll get for now. His companion looked at him then held her aching head to alleviate the small ringing echoing in her ears.

           “Paimon’s running out of brain juice and my head is hurting the more Paimon thinks about this…” The throbbing in her head told her it was time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the pile of confusion within her brain.

           Aether nodded and massaged his forehead in hopes to ease the pain. Why does he suddenly feel so lightheaded? He shook his head and pushed himself forward to carry out his plan on giving the pendant back to you. Words of gratitude were what Barbara received from the blonde and she waved them a goodbye to continue her choir practice with the other members of the Favonius Church.

           “Are we going back to the lair?” Paimon asked. Aether hummed in affirmation as they stepped outside of the parish. The harsh sunlight caused him to squint his eyes and cover his face with his arm. Was it always this hot for this season? The sudden change of the climate made him so lightheaded than ever. 

           Paimon detected how pale he looks as if he’d been painted with white-wash— even his lips were barely there. It was as if his heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into his boots. He swayed just for a moment, then with one step backward, he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings.

—

  Birds trill, sweetly high, the chorus as playful as the birds themselves. With closed eyes, Venti imagined their music to color, painting stairs in the same way grapevines grow - this way and that, in a beautiful harmony that isn't quite random. 

           Along with your soft humming, it made the ambiance much more relaxing and calm for him. In the calm of the day, his heartbeat is the steady drum to your melody and he seeps into the moment, allowing himself to drown in your beautiful voice.

           You rubbed the petals of the red flower between your fingers, watching your skin take on the sunny hue. Venti had spent the entire afternoon lying down on your lap and listening to your canorous tunes that made him forget about everything— as if you two were the only ones in this world with no one to intervene in such a peaceful moment he has with you.

           You watched the petal rotate and awed in admiration as a flower’s petal is able to spin like wind wheels. 

           “Hey, Venti,” You called out to him and peered down to peek at his sleeping face. Your lover hummed in drowsiness before opening one of his eyes to look at you. Dragging the flower close to him, he shifted to get a proper look at what you’re holding.

           “What flower is this?”

           You’ve always been a curious one. Even before you were in a coma. It’s like you have a passion in you to know every single thing about this world. From small creatures to rare species of beings in the wildlife, anything that catches your interest and you're eager to know more about it.

           Your drive to find answers is one of your unique traits he’s grown to love the more he’s with you. You create yourself in that fire of ongoing need that focuses everything that you are. And you do it because it feels as if the finding of the answer is your personal mission, your reason for being, your way of belonging and giving.

           It came to him if your curiosity will cross the line. Will it come to you that he’s been hiding his identity from you? Or will you still continue to live life with him in pure denseness? Either way, if you managed to find out he’ll find a way to have you forget what you witness. 

           For now, he has to be cautious and prevent you from exploring the outside world. Especially if that traveler is around in his land. It’s no good if you meet him. With the help of the humming winds to let him know what’s happening, it occurred to him that he has to just patiently wait and prevent you and Aether from crossing paths.

           Venti held your soft hands in his palms and took the flower from you. A small and gentle smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and pressed his temple against yours, placing the plant close to your chest.

           “It’s Windwheel Asters.” He answered and observed how your eyes sparkled in joy when you watched the petals continue to spin.

           “I haven’t seen these before.” 

           Venti lightly chuckled and placed the flower between your hands as he returned to resting himself against you, but this time his head was now on your shoulder. “Windwheel Asters cannot grow in places with no wind nor plagued by strong storms, only where the wind is gentle and nourishing.” 

           “Really?” You laid your head against his and fiddled with the stem. If these floras are really unable to grow in harsh winds, then it means Old Mondstadt’s storms have truly vanished without any traces left. 

           Peace and harmony at last. 

           Freedom is finally with you.

           You lifted your hand up against the sunlight and marvel at how simple it is. It may not look as fancy as the cecilias nor does it resemble feathered wings of a dandelion when blown away, but you found yourself liking this more than what Venti had given you.

           It’s not like you don’t appreciate his efforts for collecting every cecilias and dandelions in this region to create a wonderful garden for your eyes to fancy with, you still are grateful for it though you do wonder why did he not include these asters in the collection?

           “I kind of like this. It reminds me of you.”

           Now that made him fully awake.

           “Me?”

           The color-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile, your eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. It was the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink. Nodding your head to him, you brought the flower close to your face to cover your flushing features.

           “You were always fighting for freedom. If it weren’t for you, we won’t be able to see the skies and birds you’ve always wished for. I really admire your perseverance and passion to fight against my father to have the city liberated from his hands. Thank you. Thank you for revolting against him. Thank you for giving everyone freedom they’ve longed for.”

           You suddenly felt your throat tightened and your breath hitching every now and then. With your shoulders shaking and chin trembling, you fear he might see you in such a vulnerable state. You lowered your head even more and let your hair cover your face. Even if you hide it from him, Venti can still see small drops of liquid falling from you until it turns into a small puddle on the back of your hand.

           “[Name]…?”

           “Even though I’m Decarabian’s daughter, you never looked or treated me differently. Even after the war has ended, you never leave me. And now father, mother, and the knight… they’re all gone and y-you survived. You still stayed with me until I woke up…  I… I was so scared that once I awoke, I won’t be able to see you.”

           You were wiping your cheeks every few seconds and gulping down the lump sitting on your throat. Sniffling quietly, the tears still threatened to spill from your eyes. Your lover gently clutched your hand and used his other hand to lift your chin up to look at him.

           Your eyes were red and swollen. It shatters his heart seeing you like this as your tears split over and flowed down your face like a river escaping a dam. Using his finger to dry your damp face, he brushed his lips on your temple and laced your fingers together.

           “I should be the one thanking you.” He muttered and brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Without your support, I don’t know how things would end up. If he— if I hadn’t saved you back then, you’d be locked up in that tower. Things would go differently, wouldn’t they? I can’t bring myself the idea of leaving you there when they were chasing after you.”

           He pushed you until your back was leaning against the rough trunk of the tree. His other arm was propped beside your face before he rested his head on your shoulder and nuzzled closely.

           “Thank you. Thank you for always being here with me.” Even though his voice was muffled, you can hear him loud and clear through your teary state. A shaky smile came from you as you caressed his hair lovingly before leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him.

           “I love you. I love you so much, Venti.”

           He has lived long enough to know that what you share he can’t replicate it with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and him. He could travel the world and the seven regions to create new ballads; he’d still come right back at you if he wanted true love. 

           He has protected you for years, he’s your confidant, a true friend, and even a lover. The trust he gave you, you gave him, is what keeps both of you safe in this world, in this life. So whether his heart beats another day or another hundred years— it’s always yours.

           Meeting Venti was more of a coincidence than a fate. Yet it was the first time in your life you felt like you could be yourself around him. Memories of meeting him have become the same as the dream you play time and time again. You felt good with him in a way you haven’t been before or since.

           Hearing those three eternal words from you is surreal for him. His heart would beat madly and his stomach churn in such a way excitement and happiness is filling his entire system. He wants to hear from you again.

           Just once more so he can finally have you all to himself.

           His chest was burning hot and so was his heart that rapidly beats in great euphoria. He can sense your emotions when you cry but this feeling… it’s much more different than he had felt before. A burning desire. He’s so smitten of your entire existence. All words coming from you were all his, he grasps each phrase and corresponds with his own loving and affectionate words.

           He was brought out from his trance when he felt how warm his palm is, and it’s when he became aware his hand was now placed on your cheek just like how he brings your hand to cup his face. 

           Venti felt his face heat up at such a simple gesture and when you give a short and quick chaste kiss on his lips, he recognized the first brightest and sweet smile for this day was painted on your graceful visage.

           “I love you.”

           His wish was heard when you repeated your confession at him. Is it finally working? Were his efforts finally paid off? Before Ludi Harpastum was the Windblume, a festival where they offer windblumes to their loved ones and to the Anemo Archon. Every year, every time Mondstadt celebrates Windblume, his first priority is to give you cecilias.

           He collected them for you every year. He tends them very well until they bloom— until your eyes opened. For him, windblumes are the cecilias. A symbol of elegance, purity, and just as ethereal as your gentle heart. It may be different from what that really means as interpreted by the people of Mond, but for Venti, he feels freedom when he’s with you, he feels loved when he’s with you and it’s the reason why he gathered so many flowers for you while you were asleep.

           The arrangement given to him by the former Dendro Archon— she proposed the idea to him to gather flowers for you every time they feast Windblume. He can still clearly remember her words, her voice echoing in his head saying that even she may part from this world. 

           Her predictions for her own life were accurate. As if she already expected this to happen to her and that’s why she’s planning ahead to list all the preconditions to him to keep you safe and harmless. Barbatos can’t keep relying on her on everything and that is why he put a lot of effort into maintaining the garden.

           Yesterday night was the time of the ceremony. Venti prepped everything to make it perfect, he wanted it to be successful. A mimic of a dance he once saw when he and you were together ages ago, it was a secret you both hid but he knows this. Barbatos knows what happened during that time and pretended as if he weren't there.

           But now that he was able to dance it with you, one would call him shameless for stealing you from him. The heavy weight on his shoulder was now lifted away, finally free from the guilt he’s been feeling for centuries. His inner battle with himself is fully resolved, inner conflicts vanished, a conflict between his love and longing for you.

           Your words eased Venti and made him assured you love him back as well. If you haven’t said a single word about your own feelings, he’d be living in an illusory fantasy that you were only shy to tell him you love him very much. But ever since the bond has been created, all he hears is I love you’s from you for his ears to delight in.

           “I love you,”

           You repeated once, a faint brush of your lips against his made him shudder. Soft, gentle, and shy just like your personality. Twice when you parted away, grasping how he tastes like apples before meekly leaning on him once more for a kiss but with more vigor. Your hand clutched the front of his shirt when you felt him hold you the small of your waist to pull you against him.

           “I love you.”

           Thrice was words of tenderness and desire from you to him. At that moment, you felt your body flushed warm. This was a person you wanted to be with than you’d ever felt before. 

           Venti has always been the one you could love forever.

@trust-the-oxygen​

[cevansfics]

Promise?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve finally comes home after being away for so long.

Word count: 3.6k+

Warnings: language, very brief mentions of blood, not too much detail, fluff, a little angst, SMUT 18+ NO MINORS

A/N: this is a repost of an older fic that I rewrote a little

if anyone wants to be added to my tag list, let me know :)

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

6 weeks. It had been 6 weeks since Steve left for his last mission. That's the longest he's ever been away from you where he can't make contact. At first, you didn't think much of it. Everything seemed normal. Steve told you he would be a couple of day tops. He went on missions all the time. He's Captain America, for crying out loud. It was normal. Even after the first week and a half had gone by, you hadn't begun to worry, you sometimes knew things would get out of hand, and he would end up having to be away longer.

You weren't an Avenger. You weren't part of the 'team'. At first, when you first started dating Steve, everyone was standoffish when it came to you. It never bothered you. With their line of work, you just guessed it was normal for them not to trust easily. Soon enough, everyone came round to liking you, especially after seeing how happy you and Steve were together. So usually, when Steve left for a mission, someone would update you even if it was just to let you know they were on their way home, but this time everyone had been called out. The worry started to set in around the third week of him being away. You hadn't heard a word. All Fury would say was the mission had got extended, but he knew everyone was safe. That helped you relax a bit. Fury wouldn't lie about everyone being okay, would he? He promised to let you know when he heard any news from anyone or when they would be coming home. You knew Steve could take care of himself, but that didn't make you any less concerned for his well being. You just had to keep yourself busy telling yourself, Steve would be home before you know it.

So you did just that, kept yourself busy. Working more hours than you needed to. You took up reading any book you could get your hands on, watching all the crappy TV imaginable just so you had something else to think about. It worked, during the day, that was. Come night time, being alone in the apartment you shared with Steve was when your mind would wander. By the time the sixth week came around with him being gone, you were only sleeping due to exhaustion from worry.

One late evening after finishing dinner, putting away the leftovers in the fridge, you were cleaning the kitchen when you heard the front door to your apartment open. You froze. Stopping to listen for any sign, it was Steve. When you hear something metal being dropped to the floor, instantly you knew it was his shield. You dropped the plate you were cleaning in the sink and rushing into the living room. As soon as he laid eyes on you, his face broke out into a smile.

"Hi, doll." He said, barely a whisper. Finally, he was there standing in front of you after 6 excruciatingly long weeks. You still hadn't moved or said a word, holding your breath, afraid that if you said or did something that he would vanish from in front of you. He slowly opened his arms for you. Motioning for you to go to him, still with that beautiful smile on his face. Your shoulders dropped, without hesitation, you ran to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck with his arms slipping around your waist. You heard him grunt as your gripped hold of him, afraid you'd hurt him. You tried to pull away, but that only made his grip tighter as he nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing you in. Closing your eyes, running your hands up his neck into his hair. Feeling him, holding him, knowing he was home and alive, you never wanted to let go.

After what felt like forever just standing there and holding each other, you loosened your grip on him, leaning back from his embrace. Realizing you didn't get a proper look at him. You finally noticed he was still wearing his suit, which was unusual for him, as he always got changed before he came home. Your eyes, shifting over his face, seeing bruises running along his jaw. He has a tiny cut above his right eyebrow, blood running down his face, ever so slightly. He was also filthy, covered head to toe in dirt. Making you think what on earth he had been up to on his mission. Carefully you brush the back of your fingers over the bruise, then you cupped his cheek. Careful not to hurt him. Steve sighed as he leaned into your touch. Reaching to hold your hand as he turned to place a single kiss in your palm, all while keeping his eyes closed, enjoying your touch.

That's when a small cry seeped out of your mouth, one that you were trying your hardest to keep contained. You had never seen Steve like this before. Hearing the sound that came from you made Steve's eyes dart open, noticing a single tear had escaped your eye and was running down your cheek. Quickly wiping his thumb over it.

"Hey, Shhh, it's okay sweetheart, I'm okay, I promise." He pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your cheek where the tear had fallen, then another on your forehead. He pulled you closer to him as your face on his chest.

"I-I'm sorry," taking a second to compose yourself, you sniffed, holding back more tears, "I just have never seen you in this condition. It's a bit of a shock." You tried to explain. That was the truth, despite being while him for a while, knowing loosely what his job entails, only being able to guess at what happens on missions. Yet you hadn't seen him this injured and dirty, especially to this extent.

"I know, I'm sorry. Our communication was cut off, so I couldn't let you know we were okay and on our way back. It had just been so long since I'd seen you so, as soon as we had landed, I came straight here. I didn't even think, I just needed to see you, I should have got cleaned u-" you cut his rambling off by pulling his lips to yours. He was stunned at first and didn't react as you caught him off guard, but he soon leaned into the kiss, his mouth moving against yours in the same slow rhythm yet with so much passion, gripping your body so tight it hurt a little.

"Don't apologize. It's just a bit of shock seeing you like this."

Placing another peck on his lips, you take a deep breath settling your emotions before continuing. "Right, so here is what's going to happen. You are going to get out of that god awful, filthy suit. I will run you a nice hot bath, you will relax, then after, I am going to warm you up some food, if you are hungry, then we are going to snuggle in bed, ending with you getting some much-needed sleep. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me. It would sound a lot better if you were in the tub with me." He expressed with a wink and a smirk. You just laugh. Only Steve would suggest such a thing even in his condition. Turning to walk down towards the hall to the bathroom, calling over your shoulder as you did.

"Suit. Off. Now."

"Yes, ma'am." You heard him mumble as lean over the bath turning on the water. Adding some bubbles, not too much as Steve wasn't a fan, but even with a small amount, it filled the room a nice fruity smell. Once the tub is full of water, you turn off the taps and turn to face the door when you see Steve walking into the bathroom. He had done as you asked and taken off most of his clothes. He was now standing in just his underwear. The dirt on him only seemed to cover him from the neck up due to him having his suit on, but you could see a big purple bruise covering the right side of his rib cage. Reaching out, you gently trace your fingertips over the edge of the bruise before shaking your head slightly. Trying to rid yourself of the dark thoughts of what had happened to Steve while he was away. Looking up at him, you see that he's going to say something, but knowing what he's about to say, you stop him.

"I know, take these off and get in before it gets cold. I'm just going to get you a towel from the cupboard." You say, snapping the waistband of his underwear against his flesh before you slip past him out of the room.

While you were getting him a towel, you heard the water sloshing around meaning, Steve had got into the tub. Heading back into the bathroom, you see him lying there, surrounded by bubbles leaning back with his head resting on the edge of the tub with his eyes closed.

"You comfy?" You ask with a slight chuckle as you try to lighten the mood.

Steve eyes open as he answers, "Why yes, thank you. It's very hot."

"It's supposed to be. Will help relax your muscles."

"You getting in?" You hear the hopefulness in his voice; he needs this just as much as you do.

You nod as you pop open the button on your jeans and start to pull them down. Steve rests his head back against the edge of the bathtub, this time keeping his eyes open and locked on you as you start to undress. Once your jeans are off, you quickly pull your shirt up and over your head, leaving yourself standing in your bra and panties. You turn to face the mirror, wasting not time wanting to take off what little make-up you had on before you got into the water. While looking in the mirror, you can see Steve's eyes had dropped, focusing on your ass.

You chuckle before asking, "See something you like?"

"Always," he replies, clearing his throat. Turning back to face him, you slip your arms around your back to unhook your bra sliding the straps over your shoulder letting it drop to the floor. Followed by you removing your panties. His eyes never leave you. Noting every move you make as you undress. He takes in the sight like it's the first time he's ever seen you naked. Carefully you step into the bath and sit down. You are at the opposite end of the tub, facing Steve. As you lay back, the water laps around your boobs, which are still barely visible above the water.

"You know it's rude to stare." You tease.

"Can't help it, I haven't seen you for six weeks, and you pretty much just did a striptease for me. What do you expect me to do?"

You just blush at his comment. He wasn't wrong. You did purposefully take your clothes off, knowing he was watching you. You knew what it did to him. You sit up straight, looking him right in the eye as you carefully climb onto his lap to straddle him. It's a bit awkward as there isn't much space being in a bathtub, but you make it work. Gliding your naked body against Steve's, you almost give the game away with a moan, but you manage to hold it back. Once you are sitting in his lap, you feel Steve's hand slip up your thighs until they rest on your waist. Slowly you lean towards him. You make it seem as though you are going to kiss him. He quickly swipes his tongue over his lips in excitement, and you feel him hold on to your hips tighter. Your lips brush past by his. Leaning more into him until your body is pressed against his, your mouth is on his ear. You nibble his earlobe before whispering, "We need to get you clean up first." As you reach behind him for the washcloth, pulling your body away from his. Steve groans at the loss of contact with your body, still holding you firmly at the hips, letting you know he's not allowing you to move further away from him.

"You're such a tease."

"I don't have a clue what you are on about," you say sarcastically. Steve just rolls his eyes as you wet the washcloth and starts removing the dirt from his neck and face. You gently wiped the dried blood from around his eye, carefully cleaning his cut. You can see that it's already starting to heal, a factor of the serum you are very grateful for.

"As much as I am enjoying you taking care of me. I'm all clean, so I think we should get out."

"Why is that?" You ask, acting oblivious.

"Y/N," his voice is low and rough as he gently grinds his hips once. That's when you feel it. His rock hard cock rubs over your groin, and this time you can't contain your moan. The second the sound leaves your mouth Steve sits upright, pulling your body against his. Lips attached to yours before you even see it coming. You start to move in sync, slowly getting more heated as your hips automatically begin to grind against him.

"Bed," you managed to get out in between the make-out session. With one quick motion, a blink of an eye, Steve is on his feet in the tub, carefully placing you on yours. You stepped out first, grabbing the towels you'd got, passing one to Steve. You both briefly rub the towels over yourselves, removing most of the water.

You walk into your bedroom about to wrap the towel around your body to secure it, so it stays up by itself. But you don't get the chance to do that. Steve comes up behind you. Pressing his bare chest against your back. He takes the towel from you, discarding it on the floor forgotten. Placing his lips on the tender spot on your neck, kissing and nipping with his teeth. His hand roamed up from your hips over your stomach until he cups your boobs, squeezing and rolling your nipple between his fingers. He turns you around so you are face to face with him. You notice his towel wrapped loosely around his hip. Grabbing your chin to tilt your head up to his so you are looking him in the eyes, he says, "you are so goddamn beautiful." He kisses you, leaning into you until you start walking back and are met with the edge of the bed. Carefully, he lays you down, not breaking the connections of your lips as he does. Once you are lying flat and comfortable, you feel him softly trace his lips down your neck, over your collar bone, before reaching your boobs. Taking one of your nipples in is his mouth, licking and sucking on it like a starved man. You can't help but moan, running your hand through his hair, gripping it tightly.

"Please, Steve… I need you…"

Releasing your nipple with a pop sound, he shuffles upward until he's hovering over you once again.

"Say that again," It wasn't a question.

"Steve, I need you." He smiles as you instantly do as he says.

"What do you want me to do, doll?"

You sigh, withering beneath him; he knows what you want. You try to thrust your hips against the towel he is wearing, desperate for some friction. But Steve holds you firmly in place so you can't move.

"You gotta use your word, sweetheart," he whispers against your ears, nipping your ear lobe. You wish you could continue this little game with him, but your need for him was too strong.

"Please, I need you inside me, Steve… please." You don't even try to hide the desperation in your voice.

He pushes up off you slightly so he can remove his towel, throwing it on the floor next to the bed.

"That's it. All you needed to do was ask." He taunts you. You pay no attention to him reaching down and wrap your hand firmly around his cock, pumping a couple of times. This time it's Steve's turn to moan.

He stops you, removing your hand from him, replacing it with his own. You see him do the same action on himself you had done only moments ago. Moving closer to you, rubbing to tip over your entrance. Dragging out the torture a little longer.

"You're so ready for me." His voice is deep.

"Plea…" you don't get to finish as he's already started entering you. Slowly filling, he doesn't stop until you are full of him.

He wraps his hands around both of your wrists, shoving them above your head, holding them in place, and his hips start to roll.

"Fuuck… ah-Stevie." It's almost too much for you as he starts to pick up the pace, thrusting into you. Trying your best not to completely lose your head, you move your hips the best you can match his. Steve groans at the motion; gripping your wrists tighter, he starts fucking into you like a mad man.

"Oh god yes," you heard him murmur, in-between his grunts and moans.

"It's been so long, ah fuck - you feel so good - fuck Y/N!"

You feel the sensation building up inside of you, and Steve can feel it too, and his trust becomes more determined to bring you to climax.

"That's it, doll. Come for me. Come on, my cock." That's all it takes, Steve, to utter those words to you as you release rolls over you, tightening your walls around his cock. You could never get enough of his dirty talk. Arching your back the best you can, you roll your hips towards Steve, lasting out the orgasm. Steve's movements are slow as you try to catch your breath.

"You okay?" He asks as you are shaking beneath him.

"G-god, yes."

"You okay to keep going?"

"Mmhmm, Please, Steve, don't stop." You almost shouted.

Steve picks up the pace again. His grip on your wrist has loosened, and you managed to get them free, quickly grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Pulling his hair and scratching your nails over the tops of his shoulders.

The only sounds in the room are skin slapping on skin and the occasional grunt or moan from either you or Steve. You feel the pleasure building up inside you again. It never surprised you how quickly this man could bring you to an orgasm.

As Steve's begins to lose his rhythm, you know he's close too.

"You gonna come again for my doll." All you manage to do is a nod.

"Then do it, let go. I got you, doll, I got you." Coming for a second time that night, Steve thrusts and grinds into you, dragging out your orgasms, until he starts to stiffen, giving into a release of his own, coming inside of you.

Silence, but the good kind, fills the room, and neither of you moved to try to catch your breath. Steve reaches up and moves the hair from your forehead, which got stuck to it with sweat. He starts kissing your face all over. Uttering how much he's missed you. Seconds, minutes, hell, even hours could have passed before Steve moved to get up.

The cold hits your body at the loss of contact with his body heat, and you shiver.

"One second, sweetheart," he says with a peck on your lips as he jumps up, jogging into the bathroom. Returning moments later with a damp cloth. He carefully cleans you. You flinch a little as he runs the fabric over you.

"Sorry!"

"It's okay, just a little sensitive." You explain. Discarding the cloth, Steve jumps into the bed next to you, making you wobble as the bed moves. Shuffling in next to you, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you to lay on his chest. You are careful where you lay on him, remembering his ribs are bruised.

You both lay there enjoying being in each other's arms, just listening to each other breathe. You can hear Steve's heart slowing down as he relaxes.

Gently, barely touching him, you run your fingertips over his chest, as his hand is ghosting over your back and down your arm drawing little patterns.

"I missed you so much," Your voice cracks, as you are the first one to break the silence.

"I know, sweetheart. I missed you too." He pulls you tighter onto his chest. "I am going to do everything in my power to make sure I'm never away for that long again."

You turn to look up at him, your chin now resting on his chest. "You promise?" You ask quietly.

"I promise." His reply is confident and reassuring, but you know that wasn't something he could guarantee. You knew this, but you also knew this was who Steve is, and he's more than capable of taking care of himself. Either way, it was nice to hear him say it. Pressing his lips against your forehead, you turn back, cuddling into him, letting sleep take over peacefully for the first time in a long time, and you know Steve would be there when you woke up.

tag list:

@a-little-counter-esperanto

@patzammit

@chris-butt

[axwalker]

Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone​ to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my  FC. 

Words: 4,110 

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!! 

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?” 

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong. 

 “Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack. 

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”  

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent. 

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?” 

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.” 

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up. 

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony. 

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence. 

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done. 

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.” 

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long. 

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me. 

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality. 

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.” 

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was. 

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.  

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right. 

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me. 

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.” 

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.” 

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion. 

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.” 

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—” 

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

 I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me. 

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City. 

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.” 

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…” 

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

 I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along. 

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper. 

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

 Drake

 What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall. 

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me. 

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.” 

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.” 

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.” 

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

 “I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.” 

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly. 

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.” 

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand. 

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.” 

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.” 

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside. 

“What can I do?” I ask. 

“How long do we have?” 

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead. 

 “Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?” 

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway. 

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine. 

“I can’t just leave, can I?” 

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?” 

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

 “I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?” 

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.” 

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.” 

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything. 

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

[spooderboyandtincan]

You’re Gonna Miss Me

(When I’m Gone)

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Tony doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

That’s a lie. Utter bullshit. He’s lying to himself. Tony knows exactly why his heart is fluttering in his chest like he’d run a marathon, why his chest struggled to rise like there was twenty pound weight rested on it. 

Though to be fair, when he made an anonymous donation of a meager 50,000 dollars to Midtown Science and Technology, he hadn’t expected Peter’s decathlon team to put in a request to the school board to travel abroad, and he definitely hadn’t expected the school to immediately approve it. He thought they’d use it to replace the sudsy water in the bathrooms they called soap with the real stuff or some shit, not whisk his kid away to Vienna for a whole week where Tony couldn’t even hug him, couldn’t protect him. 

Peter is thrilled, though. Ecstatic. When he’d broken the news to Tony and May, he’d been over the moon with excitement, his round cheeks flushed pink and his eyes gleaming. Even two weeks ago, Tony had felt a deep sense of apprehension kindling in his chest, but with the date seemingly so far away, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind. 

He wishes now that he’d done something. He should have told Peter he couldn’t bear to be without him like he was an actor in a cheesy soap opera (it was true, he couldn’t); tell Peter he needed him on a “mission” that would mysteriously be canceled. Though they’d probably end up taking a plane or a suit to Vienna anyways (despite what he liked to say to Rhodey, he was not at all immune to Peter’s puppy eyes); hell, he should have purposely tripped on the stairs and broken his leg so Peter, sweet, kind, empathetic Peter, would immediately decide to stay by his side where Tony could keep him safe.

He missed Peter when he was at his apartment in fucking Queens, thirty minutes from Stark Tower. He didn’t know how he’d handle having him 4,222 miles away. He didn’t know if he could.

“Damn,” he hisses, pushing himself from his bed with a grunt and making a beeline towards Peter’s room. He dashes in. The sight of his sleeping son (read: lump of blankets) is enough to take his breath away.

Tony had missed him. It had been four hours since he’d tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, and Tony had missed him. Peter was fifteen feet away. 

This trip is going to be the death of him. He’s going to drop dead of a goddamn heart attack before Peter even gets on the plane. 

Tony sinks carefully onto the mattress and rests his hand on the boy’s neck, some deep, parental instinct in him immediately soothed by the slow, steady beat of his pulse. Peter is curled under the thick blue blanket, only his chestnut curls visible which are tinged blue from the Iron Man nightlight on the wall, his breath puffing out in those little snuffling snores that Tony absolutely adores. 

He leans down to kiss his temple, inhales the familiar scent of his favorite strawberry shampoo and is overwhelmed by the wave of infinite love that washes over him. He loves this kid so much it sometimes hurts. 

Leaning back, he smooths his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. He doesn’t want to leave the boy’s side. He doesn’t know if he physically can. Maybe asleep Peter has somehow sensed this, because there’s a small mewl from the bundle of blankets, and two bleary doe eyes flutter open. 

“T’ny?”

“Hey,” Tony whispers, running a hand through his curls. “Hey, jellybean. Sorry I woke you up.” Peter rolls over with heavy limbs and rubs his eyes with a fist in a childlike motion, yawning in a way that resembles all those yawning kitten videos he’s made Tony watch. 

God, he’s adorable, Tony thinks. His heart is melting. He’s so small, so young. Tony feels an instinctual, almost uncontrollable urge to protect this kid, to wrap him in his arms and keep him from harm for the rest of time. 

Peter is oblivious. “‘S… s’okay,” he mumbles. His hand sneaks out of the blankets and tugs on his arm lethargically, which the genius knows is sleepy Peter language for “cuddle with me.” Tony chuckles fondly and slides under the covers.

He props himself up on an elbow and gazes down at his beloved boy, stroking a finger down his cheek. Peter smiles sleepily up at him from his assortment of pillows. “Hi.”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Hi, Pete.” 

Peter frowns at him then, a sudden change from his drowsy, half-asleep state. “You… you ‘kay? Wha’ time’s it?” He tries to sit up, but Tony hushes him gently with a “Everything’s okay, bud, just a typical 2am visit from your friendly neighborhood Iron Man.”

He smiles, so Tony counts the joke as a win. It’s not one of his best, but hey, forgive him if he’s a little anxious about his kid going to another fucking continent. 

(He refuses to acknowledge that it’s not just being away from Peter that’s stressing him out, it’s the fact that anything could happen to him while they’re apart.)

Tony looks back to Peter, opening his mouth to talk, only to find that he’s completely conked out. He balls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wipes the line of drool tracing down the boy’s chin away, finding that a soft smile has formed on his face, the one that only makes its appearance around Peter.

Peter snuggles into him the second he lies down, resting his curly head just over his heart. Tony wraps a protective arm around his back and rubs small circles on his soft blanket hoodie. “G’night,” he whispers, bending to kiss the top of his head. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.”

He can feel Peter’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his chest- can hear his soft kitten snores. The warm weight of his body is so comforting that for a moment he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this trip isn’t going to be the end of him. That everything’s going to be okay.

~~~~~

Peter’s starting to regret eating all those waffles for breakfast. He feels shaky all over, like he could collapse or throw up any second. He’d told Tony he was going to pop in the bathroom, but he’s been in there for at least ten minutes, settled back on his heels on the cold, grimy floor of an airport bathroom, trying to breathe properly.

Speaking of Tony, he can hear the man just outside the door, typing on his phone and sipping from a cheap cup of coffee. Peter immediately experiences a hot flash of guilt, realizing that he must have grown worried while he was gone. 

Sure enough, the door swings open and there’s a soft knock. “Pete? Everything okay, bud?”

Peter stands up and unlocks the stall. “Tony,” he sniffles, taking an unsteady step forward. Tony rushes forward and gathers him in his arms

“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he says gently, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “You’re okay, Pete. Breathe, just breathe, bud. It’s okay.”

“I don’t-” Peter whispers. “I don’t know, Tony, I-I wanna go, but I can’t, I don’t know w-what to do.” 

“Breathe, honey. It’s okay, I’m here, we’ll figure this out, okay? You just gotta take a breath, alright?” 

Peter tries- fails. Tries again, and manages to gasp a breath in. “Sorry,” he croaks, when he can properly breathe again. “Tony, I-I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs, squeezing him tight. “Nothing to be sorry for, Pete.” After snatching a paper towel and soaking it in the sink, he runs the scratchy cloth over Peter’s face and kisses his forehead when he’s done. “Okay, bubba. You wanna go back out or stay in here?”

“Out,” he replies without hesitation. The flickering white lights above are starting to give him a headache, not to mention the leaky faucet and the freezing tile floors and the faulty air conditioning. Tony leads him out with an arm around his shoulder and guides him to a little nook, where they both plop down on a neon green beanbag. 

“My parents died in a plane crash,” Peter whispers. 

Tony squeezes his shoulder. “I know buddy. I’m sorry.” Unlike a lot of the “sorries” Peter has heard, this one is sincere. Sometimes he forgets that Tony is an orphan too. 

“I- I mean, logically, I know the plane won’t crash,” he continues, “But I guess it’s still hard for me to believe that. Like a- a gut feeling?”

The man nods in understanding. “I know how you feel, kiddo. I was terrified of cars after my parents died- I took the subway everywhere despite the paparazzi bloodhounds.” Tony doesn’t broach the subject of his parent’s deaths often, especially not in a crowded public airport, so Peter makes sure to pay attention. 

“Then, the fear just kinda… vanished.” He wiggles his fingers dramatically. “I started driving without even thinking, didn’t realize I was in a car ‘til I got on the highway. I had to pull over when I did, but since then, I’m perfectly fine with cruisin’ at 80 mph. But,” he says seriously, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I think you should listen to what your gut’s tellin’ you, buddy. It’s important to listen to yourself- what inner you is saying.” He pokes Peter’s belly a couple times for good measure, which makes his face scrunch up adorably. 

Peter nods, and really tries to listen to his gut. The pair both go silent in concentration, and then- his stomach grumbles. They both burst into laughter, born more from nerves than hilarity.

“Inner you wants to eat,” Tony snorts. “I think I saw a place with the biggest blueberry muffins of my life by the escalators, wanna stop there?”

Despite eating a huge stack of waffles just hours earlier, Peter wolfs down two of the gigantic blueberry poppyseed muffins, much to the amusement of Tony.

They made their way to the gate, where Peter’s teacher, Mr. Harrington was lounging, dressed in an ugly red sweater, his long legs stretched in front of him. 

“Peter!” he cried as he spotted them, scrambling to his feet. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I had the wrong date! We’re leaving today, right?”

“Oh, yeah Mr. Harrington, we’re going today!” Peter laughs. He’s used to dealing with his scatter-brained teacher. “I’m actually here early, the plane’s supposed to leave at 1:00.” He gestures vaguely to the big digital clock over his head reading 11:54 AM, EDT. 

Mr. Harrington frowns. “I thought it left at 8 am! You mean I’ve been here for hours in this awful chair when I could have been sipping a piña colada in my jacuzzi?!” He collapses back in his chair and pulls a sleeping mask over his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington,” Peter chuckles, then pulls Tony to a row of uncomfortable seats in the corner of the waiting area. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, just watching the various travellers rush past. A little girl, around two or three, comes up and shyly asks for Tony’s autograph, but no one else recognizes the genius. (Thanks to his foolproof disguise of a baseball cap and scarf covering up his iconic beard, the genius claims.)

“So, what are we thinking?” Tony asks after about half an hour. “Do you wanna go?” He secretly hopes Peter will say no, hopes that they can go home and binge watch all of the Star Trek episodes and fill their bodies with junk. 

Peter nods hesitantly. “I think so. I-is that okay? I might change my mind, but- yes. Yeah, I think I want to go.”

 Tony squeezes his hand. “Of course it’s okay baby, that’s perfectly fine. If you change your mind, you know what? That’s great too. Whatever you want, that’s what’s important.” He kisses Peter’s forehead and lets his hand linger for a moment where it rests on the boy’s cheek. “If you change your mind at any point, I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter breathes, slumping heavily against his side.

“Of course, bud. Anything for my Peter.” 

They stop for lunch at a cozy little coffee shop, which is thankfully devoid of fans and paparazzi. Peter orders (or rather, makes Tony order) a small hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream) even though drinking a lot before a non-stop ten hour flight is probably not the best idea. (He can’t help it. He’s nervous.)

When the pair gets back to their gate, they find Ned and his family. The boy’s greet each other enthusiastically, performing their signature handshake, while Tony simply throws up a peace sign to Ned’s rather stunned parents. 

The friends pull out their phones -probably playing one of those ghastly animated games that Peter is always quoting. Tony pretends to look busy on his phone, but really, he’s just trying to distract himself from the terrifying fact that he’s not going to see Peter for a week.

Too soon, the speaker crackles, a crisp voice announcing, “Attention. We are now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria. Now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria.”

Tony’s heart stops. Peter freezes. 

No, they think at the same time. Not yet. 

Peter turns to Tony, panicked. “Hey,” the man says, pushing away every anxiety, every worry away so he can focus on his kid. He sees Ned approach them, but stop when his father places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby, it’s okay.” 

“Tony.” Peter wraps his skinny arms around his waist. 

“I know, baby, I know.” Tony kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. “Follow my breathing. You’re okay. We’re good.”

Around them, the members of the decathlon team are rising, but Tony and Peter sit in those unforgettable chairs, clutching each other tightly, not yet ready to let go. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whimpers. 

“I know kiddo, me too. I’m gonna miss you so much, but I’m always gonna be here, okay? If you need me, just call, or text, use morse code, doesn’t matter. I’m always here for you.”

“I’m here for you too,” Peter says. “I- I’ll call you every day.” Peter’s bottom lip is trembling, just barely, but enough for Tony to hug him a little tighter and kiss his forehead. “I love you, Tony,” he sniffs.

“I love you too, Pete. I love you so much.” Tony’s not crying. He’s not. The restaurant a few stores down is just cooking onions, that’s why his eyes are watering. 

Peter pulls away and grabs his duffel bag, taking a step toward the loading dock. Tony tries not to burst into sobs. Stay, his mind whispers. Please stay. 

Then Peter turns around, eyes full of tears, and slams straight into Tony’s chest, hugging him so tight he can barely breathe. Tony rocks them back and forth, cherishing everything about his sweet boy. When they finally break apart, Peter says, “I’ll be back before you know it,” echoing what Tony has said to him so many times before he leaves for a business trip. 

Then he smiles a watery smile and runs to catch up with his best friend. Just before he disappears into the loading dock, he turns around and waves wildly at Tony.

Tony waves back, grinning. “I love you,” he mouths.

“I love you too!” Peter mouths back, and steps into the dock.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, hastily wiping the dampness from his eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know! (also, i think i missed a few people, and a few usernames have been changed, pop me a quick message so i can add you again!) 

[fictionalabyss]

Mated : You were dead.

Pairings : Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader (mentioned), Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

Word count : 2,834

Written for : @spnabobingo​

Square : Multiple Alpha claims

Warning : Angst ahead! a/b/o dynamics, character death talked about, depression, sickness mentioned,  guilt, pissed Dean, defensive Sam, brothers be brothers.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

The final part of Mated.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

The knock on your door had been unexpected, but not as unexpected as what you found waiting on the other side.

Sam. You hadn't seen him in months, but while him being there surprised you, it wasn't what made you step back in shock. It was the man standing a half step closer than he was. The man smiling at you with so much love and adoration. "Hey, baby."

"Dean?" You wanted to run. Run towards him, run away. He couldn't be real, he couldn't be here he was DEAD. He was dead, for months. This had to be a trick, a monster, or… you looked to Sam who just gave you a nod and tilted his head to his brother. His way of assuring you it was Dean.

As soon as his arms opened to you, you ran to them, throwing yourself at him and he chuckled as he caught you. You latched on, holding him tight, terrified if you let go he'd vanish, and you cried against him. The feel of him against you again, the way your body reacted to him, you thought it was lost to you forever.  "It's okay, baby. I'm home. I'm not going anywhere ever again. I’m home.” As you cried against him, Dean ducked his face into you, his nose brushing across the mark he’d left on your skin long ago, and he breathed in deep.

The action had your eyes opening and from over his shoulder seeing Sam, who stood quiet and patiently behind him. Sam’s eyes met yours, but whatever he was feeling, he kept it hidden away. You let your eyes fall shut again and tucked your nose into Dean before bringing your feet back to the ground and removing yourself from his grasp.

“You smell a little different. I wasn’t gone that long, was I?” he teased as he started past you and into the house. You swallowed. “What?”

“You were dead.” you whispered, closing the door after Sam headed in and towards the kitchen.

“Yeah I know.” Dean watched you for a minute as you heard cupboards open then close. “Wait… You meet someone else?”

“You were dead.” tears filled your eyes all over again, and you saw how his jaw ticked.

“I came back.” he snapped. “I came back to you!” he pointed at you as he stepped closer. “Who is he?” he growled. “Another fuckin’ Alpha?”

You were biting your bottom lip and looking down. He yanked at the collar of your shirt, giving him a good look at his mark still intact, and that made him furrow his brow until he saw how you tried to hide the other side of your neck from him. He wasn’t harsh, just.. forceful as he exposed the other side and took in another mark.

“You were dead.” you cried, afraid to look up at him.

“Barely in the grave by the looks of the claim.” he snapped, moving away from you with a look of disgust. “Who the fuck is he? I don’t fucking smell another alpha here. Just me and-” He stopped when he noticed you were looking past him. Dean turned and saw Sam at the end of the hall, glass of amber liquid in his hand as he watched the two of you. “You?” Dean snarled.

“Dean-” Sam started, putting his hands up, but Dean was quick to rush forward, grabbing his brother’s collar and slamming his back to the wall. The glass fell from his hand, spilling whiskey across the runner as the glass rolled to a stop about a foot from where it dropped.

“You fucking claimed her!?”

You rushed forward, trying to pull him off his brother. “Dean, stop!”

“What’d you do, Sammy? Tell her I was dead and take her in the next breath?” Sam didn’t answer, just looked at his brother with an equally hard look.

“Dean stop!” When pulling at him didn’t help, you tried to work your way between them, tried to push him off. Your heart was being pulled apart, wanting to protect Sam, but also Dean. You needed him to stop, needed him to understand. “It’s not his fault, Dean! Please!”

His hard glare was now on you as you stood between them, a few inches of space between you and either brother, but you stood your ground despite the look he gave you. “So, what? You went to him?”

“It’s not-”

Dean cut you off with a scoff. “Of course you did. You always wanted him.” he gestured to Sam, a cutting glare sent his way with the motion of his hand. “What the fuck was I? Just a bed warmer until-”

“You were dead!” you shoved at his chest. “You were fucking dead! You were all I had and you were dead!”

“Clearly not all you had. You had Sam.” he spat, and you flinched.

“No, I didn’t. Sam left. He told me you died, didn’t tell me where or how or- and then he fucking left. You were dead, Dean. I didn’t have a service or grave where I could go, I didn’t have a body to cry over I just.. I was alone. I-”

“She was dying.” Sam piped up from behind you when it was obvious that you couldn’t talk through the tears anymore. “I got a message one day, she’s crying. Only reason I came was because she said-”

“Funkytown.” you whispered. “You told me if anything happened, if anything went wrong, call Sam and say Funkytown. I did..” you shoulders were shaking with how hard you cried. “I did. I did what you told me to do.”

“What the fuck do you mean she was dying?” Dean demanded

“When I got here, you could smell it. Whole fucking house reeked of it.” When Sam put a comforting hand on your shoulder, Dean's lip curled up with a low growl, but Sam’s hand didn’t move. “I got her cleaned up, got her in a clean bed, called in a doctor.” Dean looked down at you, but you were looking down as you cried. “He said she had 48 hours at best.”

“For what? What was wrong?”

“To find a mate.” you whispered. “Heat was so bad. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get out of bed, hadn’t eaten for days..”

“So you make her fucking eat. You take care of her.”

“I did.” Sam pointed out, fingers going from your shoulder to trace over the claiming mark he’d left on you. “Doctor said she needed a mate for her best chance of survival. So I gave her one.”

“I’m sorry.” you cried. “I’m sorry I wasn't strong enough.”

“Then why the fuck were you with some other bitch in a motel room?” Dean's tone was hard and threatening. “You have a mate at home, my fucking mate at home, and you go off to fuck someone else?”

“Because I’m not you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“She didn’t fucking want me, Dean! She begged me to let her die, then she begged me to save her. And afterwards? She cried. She turned away from me and she fucking cried and I could see the guilt eating at her because I’m not you. So as soon as I knew she was well enough, I left. Why the fuck would I stay?”

Deans hand shot over your shoulder grabbing at Sam’s collar again and slamming his back against the wall once more, sandwiching you tighter between them. “Because you fucking claimed her!” Dean screamed at him. “You’re her alpha you piece of shit! You stay and take care of her!”

“Dean-” you tried to push him back, but you couldn’t, you weren’t strong enough.

“I told you! I told you to fucking take care of her and you left her! Twice! What the fuck, Sam!”

“Stop! Please!”

“You don’t fucking deserve her.” Dean spat. “You never did. You treated her like shit in college, you treated her like shit when you found out I knew her, and you treated her like shit after I died. I thought you had grown up, I thought I could fucking trust you. I thought she meant something to you.”

“She does! Do you think I’d fucking claim her if she didn’t!?” Sam snapped back, getting in Deans face just as much as his brother was getting in his. “I love her!”  Your head snapped to look up at him over your shoulder in surprise. “Dying or not, Dean, if she didn’t fucking mean something to me I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Then why’d you go?” you whispered. “Why’d I wake up to you gone?”

“Like I said, I’m not Dean.” He pushed Dean away from him before slipping out from behind you and walking out.

You stood there, stunned and unsure what to do. A part of you wanted to run to Sam, hold him, soothe him, tell him it would be okay. But the other part? The other part had Dean back. It wanted to be in his arms and to never let him go again. “I don’t.. I don’t know what to do..” Dean was running a hand through his hair, teeth biting into his bottom lip with anger as he paced in the hall.

“Go to your mate.” Dean answered, not bothering to look over at you.

“Which one?” That made him turn. “The one I couldn’t live without, that I finally have back? Or the one who refused to let me die? Who do I comfort, Dean? Who do I hold and promise that everything will be okay? Because right now, my heart is being ripped in two and it hurts so fucking bad.”

Dean just shook his head, a slight roll to his eyes as he turned away. He needed to get his thoughts together, he needed to to process what the fuck was happening. He’d been so happy to come back home to you, and now he felt like he didn’t have that home anymore. Like Sam had snatched it out from under him.

“Maybe he should have just let me die.” Dean spun around, eyes wide. “If I was dead, I wouldn’t have disappointed you and you wouldn’t be fighting with your brother.” You turned and quietly walked away, Dean watching you go.

Dean stared at the space long after you were gone, and then he looked over to the front door Sam and stormed out of, then down to the glass still laying on it’s side on the carpet. As pissed as he was, as much as he wanted to tear his brother apart for touching his mate, Dean only had two important people left in his life. He had to somehow live with what had been done.

With a sigh, Dean started for the door first and was surprised to see Sam just sitting on the curb outside. “Here to punch my teeth in? Cuz I won’t let you do it easy, Dean.”

“No.” Dean answered, dropping to sit next to his brother. “Here to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not letting her die.” Dean’s head fell forward and he looked down at the ground. His hands were clasped, forearms on his knees and he shifted his hands a few times before he spoke again. “I’m pissed, Sam. I’m pissed you claimed her, she was mine. But I can’t be mad at you for saving her. There was no other way?” he looked to Sam who shook his head.

“No. I wasn’t even sure that would work. But I had to try.”

Dean nodded and looked down again. “What do we do here, Sammy?”

“She wants you.” Sam licked his lips and looked out across the street. “So it goes back to the way it was.”

“Can it, though? She’s your omega, Sam. I wanted to rip your throat out for touching her. You telling me you won’t feel the same?”

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Sam looked to his brother again, the two of them watching each other for a minute.

“There’s a choice.”

“She doesn’t want me, Dean.”

“She does.” Dean nodded, looking away from his brother, part of him hated that he was about to admit this. It could be the end for him. “She wanted to chase after  you, comfort you and tell you everything would be okay.”

“But she didn’t.”

“Because she doesn’t want to hurt me. She’s being pulled two ways, Sammy. I hate that it’s hurting her, I hate that I’m hurting her.” Dean was quiet for a moment. “She-” Sam watched him, waiting. Dean licked his lips, tilted his head and sighed. “She said maybe you shouldn’t have saved her.”

“What?”

“That if she was dead we wouldn’t be fighting.”

“We’re brothers. Brothers fight.”

“Mhm.” Dean nodded. “She thinks she disappointed me.”

“I told you the guilt was eating at her.” Sam mumbled. “I couldn’t stand seeing that look in her eyes.”

“So what do we do, Sammy? Me and you, I mean. Can we get past this?”

“I don’t know, Dean. Can we?”

There was a knock on your door, but you didn’t say anything. You sat on the floor, back against your bed, knees tucked into your chest as you cried. The door gently opened, and soon someone was walking in. “I’m sorry.” You knew who it was before he even sat on the floor in front of you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Dean reached out and pulled you against this chest. “It’s going to be okay.” he soothed.

“How can it? You’re brothers, and I-”

“You lived.” he cut you off, a hand rubbing up and down your back. “You did what it took to live. I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re disappointed. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“I’m not. I promise, I’m not. I’m sorry, okay.” he pulled back just enough to get you to look up at him. “I’m sorry, too. I reacted badly, it was just a lot to take in. I was so fucking happy to be getting back home to you.” he smiled softly at you. “You were right, I was dead. I shouldn’t have held that against you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do.” a fresh round of tears stung at your eyes, and when one fell, Dean wiped it away with his thumb.

“We’ll figure it out.” Dean promised.

“The three of us.” You turned your head to look to the door and found Sam standing and leaning on the frame. “And you’re right. I do kind of want to rip your throat out for touching her. But just a little.” he teased with a smile.

“I don’t.. I don’t understand.” you looked to Dean again.

“I’m not letting you go.” Dean promised. “You’re my mate and I’m never letting you go. But you’re his, too. We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

You looked back to Sam who gave you a shrug. “It’ll take some time to figure out, but.. It’s not impossible. You aren’t the first Omega to have multiple claims.”

“We had a little chat before I came up.” Dean leaned his forehead against your temple and breathed you in. “I missed you.” he whispered out with his breath. “If I need to accept Sam to keep you, I’ll do it. I’d do anything.”

You nodded with a soft smile before addressing Sam again. “What about the girl you were with?” you asked, hoping he didn’t hear the bite in the words. The truth was, even with him having abandoned you more than once, the mere idea of him with another woman made you want to rip someone apart, he was your mate, your alpha.

“No one important.” Sam brushed it off. “I’ll let her down easy.”

Something in you told you there was more to it, much more to it, but Sam wasn’t saying anything else. “What do we do now, then?”

“How about dinner? I’m fucking starving.” Dean chuckled. “Then,” he whispered into your ear, “I’m going to eat you.”

Sam growled at that, and Dean’s eyes shot to his brother, both of them glaring daggers at each other. “Guys, come on.” you groaned, pulling yourself from Dean’s lap and standing. Dean was quick to follow, putting you once again stuck between the brothers and their anger. “How about Dean gets me while I get Sam. Then we switch.”

“Deal.” Sam answered, eyes still watching his brother, waiting for his answer.

“Only if I get two rounds.”

“Dean!” You shot him a look of disbelief. You were trying to keep them from killing each other and he seemed to be going out of his way to provoke Sam.

“What!? I was dead! Don’t I deserve a little extra love?” he pouted. And at that exact moment, you discovered where Sam had learned that puppy dog look he always used to get his way back in college. You rolled your eyes and his pout turned into a shit eating grin.

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging :  Mated -  @vicmc624​

Dean - @akshi8278​  @adoptdontshoppets​   @evyiione​ @karikatz12481​ @idksupernatural​  @deandreamernp​

Sam -  @evyiione​  @hoboal87​

SPN -  @sandlee44  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @mrswhozeewhatsis   @deanandsamsbitch  @deans-baby-momma  @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng   @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh  @ksgeekgirl   @hobby27 @maddiepants  @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn​    @fandom-princess-forevermore     @kalesrebellion   @deanwanddamons​   @thoughts-and-funnies

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin @rebelminxy @foxyjwls007 @onethirstyunicorn @shaelyn102 @supernaturalenchanted  @kazkingdom   @babypink224221  @emoryhemsworth    @ilovefanfic86  @pie-with-hunters   @anaelsbrunette​ @lazinessisalliknow  @feelmyroarrrr​  @letsdisneythings​   @cdwmtjb8​   @notyourtypicalrose​  @xostephanie​ @ilovedeanspie​ @defenderrosetyler​ @amandamdiehl​

[boonki]

“You look absolutely horrible.” For the prompts!

OKAY I KNOW YOU ASKED THIS LIKE THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO i am so sorry ive had to work a ton lately and have just been so tired, i havent written at all recently 

BUT

here you go!! some nice sleepy vibes from yours truly at 2:20 am, apologies if there are any mistakes 

_______

The only light on in their shared kitchen space is above the sink, drowning the space in a burnt orange color, like the warm glow of a fire. As he stumbles into the room, Obi-wan nearly misses Anakin sitting at the table, fiddling with droid parts, back curled over and head drooped to study a piece of machine in his hands. How he’s even able to see is far beyond Obi-wan, but he’s learned to let it go throughout the years.  

Obi-wan turns the knob on the stove and shuffles the kettle to check for water, startling Anakin out of his meditative state. 

“Oh, Obi-wan.” Anakin looks up at him and squints, exhaustion forming neat lines around the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t know you were awake.” 

Before reaching up to the cabinet for a well-loved mug, Obi-wan catches how pale Anakin is, how dark purple blooms around his eyes like bruises, how he seems to shrink into himself. Obi-wan has seen Anakin look tired before, especially when he was younger and put so much pressure on himself to perfect his schoolwork, but this is on the particularly bad end of things. Anakin’s hair is greasy, the long curls pushed back and tucked behind his ears, and the small blanket draped around his shoulders does nothing to hide the fact that Anakin is still wearing the same shirt from two days ago. He looks absolutely horrible. 

“You look absolutely horrible,” Obi-wan says, the mug settling on the countertop with a clink. “Have you even tried to sleep?”

Anakin frowns. “Hey, you don’t look much better. We’re both awake at what,” his head swivels around as he looks for a clock, and finding none, guesses, “four in the morning? What’s your excuse, old man?” 

Obi-wan hums noncommittally at that, amusement assuaging the growing worry nagging at his chest. He pulls a tea bag out of the flimsy cardboard box left out on the counter, and rips the packaging open, letting the sachet dangle into the cup. He lets the silence linger. 

With a softer tone, Anakin tries again. “You can’t sleep either?” 

Obi-wan pours the boiling water into the mug, watching the color turn into a deep shade of purple, and he gently bounces the bag up and down, encouraging it to steep. “I think you’ll find, my dear padawan, that I’ve evolved past the need for sleep.” 

Anakin’s eyebrows flatten, and he snorts. “I’ll make sure to pass that along to Cody, I’m sure he’ll agree with you.” 

A smile tugs at Obi-wan’s mouth. “No, I,” he pauses, taking a breath, “I keep waking up. Figured a cup of tea would help.” 

All of the mirth vanishes from Anakin’s face, leaving only unadulterated worry. Obi-wan looks down at his tea. They both know a euphemism for nightmares when they hear one by now, considering they’ve created half of them on their own. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war will do that to a person. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war where a good portion of the deaths are on your hands, on your conscience, even more so. 

The air is still between them, but dense with emotion. Obi-wan rarely admits his nightmares to anyone, and by the myriad of expressions racing through Anakin’s features, he can tell Anakin is struggling with the right response. 

Obi-wan sips his tea. 

“Sometimes, I,” Anakin starts, clearing his throat, “I wish I knew them better, my men who died. I see them in my dreams.” He’s staring down at his hands, either as a distraction or remembering the blood he’s washed off. The droid parts sit motionlessly beneath them. 

Obi-wan leans back on the counter, holding the steaming mug up to his chin. “So do I,” he nearly whispers, grateful for Anakin’s admission, his attempt to empathize with Obi-wan. He wants to say more, wants to sit down and let out the demons haunting his dreams, but he’s afraid that they’d rip all his bandages on the way out and tear him apart completely. It’s easier, he thinks, to keep it all inside, contained, controlled. But in the dim and molten light of the kitchen, with his face hidden in the shadows, he wants to be vulnerable. He also wants Anakin to get some rest. 

“Do you want to come sleep with me?” Obi-wan asks, eyes darting up to Anakin’s face. 

Anakin’s eyes go wide, and he straightens up in his seat. “What?” 

He suddenly realizes what he’s said, and he can feel his ears burn. “No, not like that.” He dips the tea bag in and out of the mug, and Anakin relaxes a bit, though still wary, looking somehow disappointed. “When you were a youngling, you used to crawl into bed with me when you couldn’t sleep. You thought I never noticed.” 

“You remember that?” 

Obi-wan smiles to himself, gazing wistfully down into his mug. “Of course, dear one. You weren’t the only one who slept better.”

Anakin’s eyebrows are knitted together, his lips parted. “Oh.” He looks thoughtful. “Sure, then. Your room?” 

Warmth floods Obi-wan’s chest in anticipation, not at all feeling guilty about his careful manipulation. He knows Anakin could never turn down helping others, it’s in his nature. 

Anakin’s little droid project is completely forgotten as Anakin stares at him for an answer. 

“Considering I don’t quite feel like tripping over half an engine, yes, my room.” Obi-wan takes one final sip of his tea and sets it by the sink, treading over the cold floor back into his room. 

With a scoot of his chair, and loud, heavy footsteps, Anakin follows, sliding Obi-wan’s door shut behind him, leaving the pair in complete darkness. Obi-wan is still in his sleep shirt and shorts from before, so he slips into bed, pulling back the covers for Anakin to join him. He hears the soft thump of clothing dropping to the floor and then a dip in the mattress next to him. 

Obi-wan lays on his back, as he assumes does Anakin. 

Then there’s a shuffle as Anakin readjusts, and with a slight startle, Obi-wan feels a bare arm rest against his chest, a face in his neck, a leg thrown over his. It’s odd, but rather nice. Obi-wan doesn’t remember the last time he felt so safe. 

“Is this okay?” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, blowing hot air over his collarbones. 

“Yes.” Obi-wan faintly wonders if Anakin can feel his heartbeat. 

“What were your nightmares about?” 

Obi-wan considers this. Blood, so much blood, headless bodies strewn over a hopeless landscape, their heads coming to life and blaming their deaths on him, his call, his decisions. Qui-gon, standing in the flames, yelling at him to be better, to have saved him, saved his men, to save Anakin. Stillness, as he stands utterly alone and deserted, everyone finalizing realizing they were better off without him, because he is worthless, unlovable, tainted- 

“The war.” Obi-wan answers, his voice cracking. “And you?” 

When no reply comes, Obi-wan wraps his arm around Anakin’s back, tracing his spine, the flesh warm and smooth underneath his fingertips. Anakin’s breaths come slow and even, and his hand twitches once. 

Already asleep, then. 

Obi-wan bites a lip to keep from chuckling. Maybe this is the trick to get him to sleep. He rests his cheek against his hair, presses a light kiss to the top of his head. 

“I dream of losing you, dear one,” he whispers out to no one, letting the honesty linger in the darkness above them. He trusts the nighttime to keep his secrets. 

When they both wake up in the morning, Obi-wan is sure there will be some level of embarrassment from cuddling, from cracking open their hard exteriors to each other. They’ll probably be sent out to the frontlines and never speak of this again. 

He feels the sturdy muscles of Anakin’s sides, the dip of his waist and rise of his hips. 

For now, Obi-wan holds him, keeps him safe from the torment of his own brain, and lets him get some much needed sleep. 

___

Light billows out from underneath the door when Obi-wan wakes, morning having come and gone long ago. 

Anakin has curled further into him, practically seeping into his bones. There’s a leg thrown over his waist, face completely smooshed in his neck, and his arm drapes over his chest, Anakin’s palm cupping the side of his face. Delicate snores come from Anakin’s nose, and Obi-wan’s neck is hot from Anakin’s breath. Obi-wan’s hand is settled in the small of Anakin’s back, the other arm thrown up above Obi-wan’s head. 

A languid grin finds its home on Obi-wan’s face, sleep tugging at his edges. He hasn’t felt so well rested in years. 

Not wanting to wake Anakin, Obi-wan flutters shut his eyes, and lets himself drift back off, soaking in the feeling of love and security that pool together in his heart. 

He can feel Anakin breathing steadily on top of him, peacefully. 

The war will have to wait. 

[nicekillchanceballs]

I Might ◑

Pairing: timeskip!Akaashi Keiji x gn!reader Genre: Hurt/comfort, a little bit of romance and fluff? Synopsis: You just wanted your coffee. Instead, you got a stranger together with your drink. Word Count: ~3.7k A/N: I never thought this would be so long please don’t get bored. I also apologize for any grammatical errors, I am so rusty, lol. This is my first work in my Love Me ◑ series. Thank you!! -- sloth 🦥 Listen to I Might ◑ here.

It’s hard to vanish without a trace And whose idea was this in the first place? I might, I might, I might Fake my death tonight So we can start a whole new life

You always have been a regular of this coffee shop you're in right now. Ever since you were a university student, up until now that you're a writer for a lifestyle magazine, you always make sure to visit this café at least every 3 months to unwind and relax -- even if it meant that you will have to starve yourself for days so that you can have the money to treat yourself at this hidden gem of a place.

You ordered your usual. Upon receiving your drink and pastry, you took a seat and table on the balcony outside overlooking the lake below. You are the only person here because the other customers are inside the shop utilizing the fireplace and heater. It is kind of chilly, luckily, you sport a thick cardigan on. You took a deep breath and the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and pine trees helped in calming your nerves down.

As you took a sip of your caramel macchiato, you are mentally listing the reasons why this place became your go-to spot. First, it is located in a place up in the mountains, so it is very cold and only a few people are braving to go here. Second, the coffee and pastries this place offers deliciously hits your coffee-loving sweet tooth. For you, no amount of Starbucks or Tim Hortons can compete with this café. Lastly, and the most important, this place witnessed and cured you of your misfortunes and depression. Every time something bad happens, being the introvert that you are, you tend to go off the grid to escape and do your "soul searching", and this place helped you with that.

You brought out your journal and pen, scribbling random thoughts that fill your overactive brain. Your friend, who is a psychologist, advised you that whenever you feel overwhelmed, you can write the feelings or things that seem to engulf you. “It somehow will help you in releasing your frustrations instead of bottling it up,'' she said.

You looked up and admired the view this place has to offer. The sky is painted pastel orange with hues of blue and purple. You noticed that fog is already forming below, hugging the pine trees around the lake. The lagoon is calm as ever, reflecting the already setting sun. You smiled as you basked in peace and contentment.

However, your tranquility was kind of disturbed when the balcony glass doors opened and a tall man with short, black, tousled hair occupied a seat two tables away from you. He looked like he stepped out of a men's fashion magazine -- he was wearing black-rimmed eyeglasses, a beige turtleneck, black jeans, a long brown coat, and a satchel sling bag. He then settled his tray with his own coffee and pastry on his table. You immediately turned your head away, afraid that this beautiful man may have caught you staring. You felt heat from your cheeks forming as you carried on scrawling in your journal. He's so beautiful, you thought.

However, as you continued to write, you remembered the face of your boss making your blood slightly boil. Well, the reason you are here is because of the stress in your workplace -- asshole superiors, some good-for-nothing co-workers, shitty salary, unreasonable work hours, and your list goes on. Once I gained my needed years of experience, I will immediately resign, I swear on the grave of that ungrateful boss bastard. This anger made you forget about the pretty man meters away from you.

Little did you know that he is also staring at you. He noticed your furrowed eyebrows and the intensity of you jotting away at your notebook. He also noticed your reddened cheeks and the breath vapor that formed as you huffed in exasperation. He was not the one to be observant towards strangers (it is only his friends that he is concerned about), but you have this certain aura that entices him. He smiled as he gulped his black coffee, pulled out his laptop from his bag, opened it, and checked some emails.

You estimated that ten minutes have already passed and you are still writing, anger somehow dissipating when suddenly you heard a loud "Hey, hey, hey, can we talk to the manager?” inside the coffee shop. You sighed because now, your peace is totally disrupted. You whipped your head to look at the commotion inside and you saw a tall man with spiky gray hair and black streaks wearing a black hoodie and jeans. That loud guy was accompanied by another taller man with messy, spiky black hair wearing a white t-shirt tucked in his slacks. The store manager then approached them. What’s with very tall, beautiful people today wanting coffee? You thought.

Shrugging, you looked again at your notebook. Without thinking, you stole a glance towards the direction of the man seated meters away from you. You saw that he was pale and his eyes were wide, frozen in shock. His gaze fell upon you, realizing that you were looking at him. He immediately scrambled from his seat and briskly walked towards you. You instinctively panicked. What is happening?!

He stopped beside your seat and he instantly crouched down, as if hiding from something. You looked down at him, your eyes also a notch bigger than normal from shock. He then softly whispered, “Under no circumstances you will tell anyone, especially them --” he motioned towards the two men inside the shop -- “that I am here. Please.” His emerald eyes are practically begging you. Hypnotized by him, you just nodded. “I’ll just hide in the comfort room, just knock four times when they are gone.” He said and then clambered away from you, making his way towards the bathroom.

You took a deep breath and sighed loudly. You are very confused as to why the man was hiding. Is he a serial killer? Are the two tall men inside detectives or something? Or are they kidnappers? Hitmen? Is the pretty boy gonna be abducted? Your mind was in overdrive. You thought of just packing up and leaving the establishment, but you sympathize with the man you just spoke with. You don’t know why, but you can relate to him.

Your musings are interrupted as the lights in the balcony lit up. Oh, the sun has already set. You glanced at your wristwatch and it was already 6:30 PM. You heard the balcony doors open and the tall, black-haired man entered, with the gray-and-black haired man following suit. Oh, shit, they are here to question me.

“Hi.” The man with black hair smiled at you. “I am Kuroo, and the noisy one there is Bokuto.”

Bokuto is smiling widely, walking towards you but is distracted by the view of the city skyline. He ran and stood beside the balcony railings. “Man, it is beautiful and cold here in Miyagi!”

Kuroo scratched his head, “I apologize for my loud friend, but have you seen a man this tall ---” he gestured his hand just near his temples, demonstrating the height of the man you spoke with earlier -- “he has green eyes and black-rimmed eyeglasses.”

“Yes, yes, he looks preppy,” Bokuto said as he finally walked towards your seat.

You cleared your throat. You have this habit of clearing your throat when you are nervous. “No, I haven’t seen anyone with that description.” You lied as you nervously sip your now cold coffee.

“Oh really?” Bokuto pouted, deep in thought. He then looked at Kuroo, pointing at the other table. “That looks like his laptop and bag.”

You almost choked on your drink as you realized that the man left his things at his table. Shit. Your mind quickly formulated a shitty lie. “Uhm, it is a girl -- an employee that is seated there, not a man.”

“Employee?” They said in unison.

“Yes. An employee of this coffee shop. That’s her laptop. They are doing interviews earlier. Job openings…” You trailed off.

The two men just nodded. Bokuto sighed loudly. “Where did Akaashi run off to? I am getting worried. He’s gone for a week already! His ex-girlfriend is so mean!”

“Hey now, he is a grown-ass man okay? I know he knows what he is doing. Let’s just resume the search tomorrow, shall we?” Kuroo patted his friend’s back.

Bokuto looked at you with his somber, amber, owl-like eyes and said, “Thank you for your help. We are very sorry for disturbing you.”

“So we’ll leave you alone now, thank you again.” Kuroo nodded at you and the pair started walking out of the balcony. You awkwardly smiled at their backs.

When Kuroo closed the balcony glass doors, you noticed his cat-like eyes lingered on you for a moment, glimpsed at Akaashi’s table, and at you again. Maybe it is just the lighting inside the coffee shop, or it is only your imagination, but you saw a small, sly smile forming on his lips. He finally turned his back and walked away.

What the heck was that? Did he know that I’m lying?! I am really a shitty liar. You ran your fingers through your hair. You then stood up and glanced around, ensuring that the two men were really gone. You immediately went to the bathroom and knocked four times. There was no response but you can hear shuffling inside. You immediately went back to your seat on the balcony.

Minutes later, Akaashi emerged from the door, went to his table, and started to gather his things. Oh, he’s leaving already, what did I expect? You thought as you softly face-palmed yourself.

“Can I sit here?”

You removed your palm from your face and looked up at Akaashi. You felt your eyes widen again. “You... You were not leaving?”

“No, not yet.”

You just nodded and removed your bag from the seat across you. He then took the said seat.

"So.." He looked sideways, afraid to meet your eyes because of embarrassment. "I think I owe you an explanation."

You just nodded again, still dumbstruck by his charm.

“To start, I am Akaashi Keiji, well… You can call me Keiji.” He took a sip of his coffee. “And contrary to what Bokuto said earlier --”

“You heard them earlier?” You finally spoke, interrupting him. Oh god, he must have heard my pathetic lies earlier.

“Uhh, yes. Those two are so loud, they sound like they swallowed microphones or something.”

You chuckled at his snarky comment. “Yeah, they really are loud.”

“Anyway… Thank you so much for what you did earlier. I am truly sorry for dragging you into this.” He scratched his head. “Good thing they fell for your alibi.”

“Yeah, Bokuto fell for it. He must really miss you.” You broke a small piece from your chocolate chip cookie and munched on it. “But for Kuroo… I don't know. I think he knows.”

“Oh, Kuroo? He really is a pain in the ass.” Akaashi rolled his eyes and sighed. “So to continue, contrary to what Bokuto said earlier, it is not because my ex-girlfriend dumped me. It's been three months ago already. I kind of expected it because I caught her cheating so many times I cannot count it with my two hands.” He said nonchalantly while holding up both of his hands.

How can he be so cool about being dumped?! You thought, then you noticed that although calloused, he has very nice hands. Blue veins were prominent in his palms, running up toward his long, slender fingers. You want to punch yourself for noticing that at this time. Hey, stupid self, this is not the time for simping on a stranger!

He continued, “I disconnected from everyone because everything is overwhelming me. My job, my boss, bills, rent… Adulting is very hard, you know?” He droned on as he fiddled the cup sleeve of his coffee. "Also, I have always wanted to be a literary editor, but instead, they assigned me as an editor in a manga magazine."

You wanted to ask how he went off the grid because you’re interested in doing that too, but he continued on ranting.

“I am usually a calm and collected person.” Akaashi gulped again on his coffee. “I usually handle problems like a breeze, not even my friends can recognize that I have problems because I immediately find ways and solve them with ease. But now, I think I reached my tipping point, and it’s very hard to keep up with this front anymore. I am just tired, then I find myself driving away from Tokyo, and here I am.” He stared into your eyes, expecting for you to say something. Akaashi surprised himself that he bared his vulnerabilities upon a stranger.

Well, you are also astonished just the same. You realized it is getting serious.

“So.. how long have you been into hiding?”

He counted in his mind. “Today is the sixth day.”

You cleared your throat again. "Since you're very honest with me, can I be very honest with you too?"

He looked at you and nodded. "Yes please. I need it."

"Promise that you won't be mad or something?"

"I promise."

"Okay, let's start." You cleared your throat again because you're nervous. "First, it's okay to admit that you're hurt because your ex-girlfriend broke your heart."

"I am not hurt--" He muttered in protest.

"Ah ah ah." You interrupted him. "Your nonchalance about it did not match the way you narrated it. Too many words for someone who did not care."

Akaashi's eyes widened, as if slapped by the truth. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, okay, I think you're right." He exhaled loudly. "I gave her so many chances…" He trailed off.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later." He looked at you and in all seriousness said, "I am Akaashi Keiji and I admit I am hurt. My heart has been broken. Luckily, very recently, I think I am healing."

You smiled at him. Her ex-girlfriend must be stupid to dump a guy this pure and well.. good looking. “Okay, good, good!" You exclaimed as you took another bite of your cookie. "Well, I don't know if this helps, but I just learned that love is like trial-and-error. Some people get it right the first time, but most of the time, you will try, and try, and try, until you get it right…" Your voice trailed away.

Akaashi looked at his untouched croissant. "Yes, I think that helped." He flashed a faint smile and looked up again. "I'm ready for your next one."

"Okay. Here it goes. Yes, I very much agree that adulting is very hard."

"Right? They did not teach this in high school, nor in university." He poked his pastry.

"I cannot give insights on adulting because I'm going through it too, you know? I am just as lost as you." You removed the cup sleeve of your coffee and toyed with it. "But I can assure you, you and me, we are not the only ones lost. We just have to deal with asshole people, I guess?"

"Yeah. Fuck asshole people." He grinned.

You chuckled. You don't know why a sudden warmth spreads through your chest. Maybe it's because you made him smile? Or the fact that you, a stranger, comfort him? Or the relief that you are not alone dealing with the pressure of adulting? Or maybe all of the above?

"Ready for the third one?"

"Yeah."

"I am pretty much aware that I'm in no position to tell you this, but damn, editor already at such a young age?"

"It's not my dream job, though." He retorted.

"But you're still young." You smiled softly, even though you envy him. In the magazine company where you're working, you're only a writer, nothing more, nothing less. "You must be pretty awesome to be an editor already. You still have plenty of time to reach your dream job. No need to rush, it is not a race." Even though you're jealous of him, you can't help but be in awe of him. Good looking plus smart? Damn. I need to stop simping.

"Yeah." He rested his chin on his hands. "Once again, I guess you're right. What am I in a rush for?" He nodded. "Even though I just met you minutes ago, why are you easy to talk to? Why are you so good at this?" He looked at you with his bright, green eyes.

"Believe me, I don't know. I am usually silent but here I am, babbling things to a stranger.” You shrugged, chuckling. “I am only realizing these things now because of you. Earlier, I was down in the dumps too."

"I am going to ask you later why you are in the dumps, but in the meantime, I am ready for the next one."

You purse your lips. "Okay, Keiji, you must rejoice because this is the last one."

"Okay. I'll brace myself."

"Here it goes.” You held his gaze. “I think you're too hard on yourself. You need to loosen up."

He just blinked at you.

You folded your coffee cup sleeve and slowly tore it as you spoke. "Also, expressing emotions is not a sign of weakness. I think you are tiring yourself out because you keep a front that you are strong, that you have no problems.” You noticed that he winced. “Because of that, you get drained. You must remember that you are just as vulnerable as everyone."

He took a gulp of his now cold coffee.

You continue to tear your cup sleeve. “You don’t need to change how you act after this. You can still be withdrawn with your emotions towards others, I mean, it’s not easy to change yourself after one night, right? But the only thing important here is you need to be honest with your feelings. You should not apologize for how you feel. Also, it is never wrong to ask for help from others. If you’re hurt, acknowledge it. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, acknowledge it. If you’re tired, acknowledge it.”

You exhaled, looked up at him, and saw his eyes were watery.

Shit, is he about to cry? “H-hey, I am sorry --”

His tears finally fell. “Oh.” He touched his cheeks wet from the tears and flinched. “It’s weird. It does not stop.” He pointed at his eyes with a slight panic in his voice.

You felt your eyes water too as you grabbed your packet of tissues inside your bag. “Here, you can wipe them if you want.”

“Thank you.” He removed his eyeglasses and wiped his cheeks. “I cannot stop it.” His tears are still streaming like a waterfall.

“Good lord, when was the last time you cried?” You asked, concerned.

“I-- I can’t remember. It’s a long time ago, I guess.” He sniffed, wiped his tears again, then weakly chuckled. “I am sorry for crying --”

“Ah ah ah.” You interrupted again. “Repeat after me. You should never ---”

He cut you off, “Never apologize for how I feel. Also, be honest with my feelings. Ask help from others.”

You smiled. “Great.” It then took about a good five minutes until his silent crying stopped.

He cleared his throat. “Hey. Thank you. Crying feels good.”

“It is not in my intention to make you cry, but you’re welcome, I guess?”

He chuckled. “Uhm, do you want another drink or pastry? It’s my treat.” He offered while he wore his eyeglasses again.

“Really? Wow, thank you.” My broke ass won’t let this one pass.

“On one condition. You’ll tell me about yourself too.”

“Okay.” You beamed. “But I think you’ll be bored.”

“Nope. I am all ears.” He smiled.

“Excuse me.” A barista walked to your table and smiled at both of you. “We will close in ten minutes, any additional orders?”

The both of you shook your head and thanked the barista. He went inside again.

You looked at your wristwatch. "It's almost midnight already?!"

"Really? Time flies so fast." Akaashi said. You did not see it but he looked at you with his soft eyes.

“So... Let’s go?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The both of you packed up your things and went inside. He bowed to the store manager, then the both of you exited the coffee shop. It was so cold outside that you could see your and Akaashi’s breath. You tucked your hand inside your pockets.

“Hey. Did you also tell the manager about Bokuto and Kuroo?” You asked him.

“Yes. Thank god she is also cooperative.”

“You really thought about this, huh?”

“Of course. However, tomorrow, it’s finally time for me to appear before my friends.”

“I think Bokuto will bawl his eyes out.”

The both of you laughed.

When your giggles subsided, Akaashi spoke. “So…”

“Yeah, uhm, I’ll go this way.” You pointed at the other path. “The cabs are this way.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you, Keiji. Goodbye.” You smiled at him and started to walk away. I like him, I like to know him more, but god, he just came from a breakup. If I get attached, that would count as taking advantage of a vulnerable person, right?! You overthink as you felt your heart getting heavy with every step you take. I am very much going to regret this tomorrow. Very much. You continued to walk down the narrow path, thinking about the many things that happened today.

You are seriously pondering when you suddenly hear Akaashi shout your name, making you stop in your tracks. You turned around and he immediately appeared from your view, running, and halted in front of you.

“W-wait.” He panted, catching his breath. “You told me to be honest with my feelings.”

You just blinked at him, already panicking on the inside.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Please input your phone number. I want to see you again.”

“B-but Tokyo is far from Miyagi --”

“Ah ah ah.” He copied the way you interrupted him earlier and smirked. “It will be worth the drive.”

You felt your heart beat faster as if it wanted to escape your ribcage. “Okay.” You mustered as you typed your number in his phone and thanked the gods that it is somehow dark or else he will see your tomato cheeks right now.

You looked up at him and handed him his phone with your cold, trembling hands.

“This not a fake number?”

“What? No.”

“Just making sure.” He smiled at you.

The moon has never been so bright that night.

[fanfic-me-up]

Hiiiiiii can I request Bakugou x fem!reader?? (*≧∀≦*) Maybe he has a crush on you who has a healing quirk and helps recovery girl when it comes to helping the injured, like when class 1-A finishes up training and recovery girl normally sends her to deal with it all the time? She can heal people but it drains her energy so when she finished with it she takes naps on the recovery beds? Idk but thanks!much love❤️❤️❤️

This is a really cute idea! Thank you for requesting 💖 

“Shut up and Heal me”

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: Language (what do you expect, it’s Bakugou lol)

Synopsis: You’re a student at U.A. and Recovery Girl’s apprentice healer. When you push pass your limit to heal Bakugou Katsuki, who knew he cared enough to make sure you heal too.

“Wake up, dumbass.”

Your shoulder is shaken, abruptly waking you from your nap. A muscular silhouette takes shape as you pry your eyes open.

“Bakugou? Is that you?” Your voice laced with sleep. 

“Nah, it’s Batman.” 

You squint your eyes, still half asleep. Is this a dream? Bakugou rolls his eyes at your inability to detect blatant sarcasm.

“‘Course it’s me, dipshit. Get up.”

You check your phone and groan when you find you only got five minutes worth of valuable shut eye.

“You’re here early.” 

“Aizawa-sensei let us out early!” Midoriya pipes up. He’s chipper for someone who looks one step away from passing out. Any trace of sleep vanishes when you assess his injuries, asking him a series of questions to confirm where he needs medical attention and if it’s life-threatening. You usher him to Recovery Girl’s office so he can get treated immediately. Typical Midoriya - always going plus ultra even for training exercises. 

Bakugou’s no better as you take in the numerous scrapes and bruises raking his body. Despite his beaten-up state, the only open wound is on the right side of his stomach - a small pool of blood seeping through his muscle shirt. He’s been pushing himself much harder in training these past couple weeks and you know it’s the life of a hero, but you’re concerned for him as a healer and as a friend. 

“You gonna stare all day or heal me?”

“Sorry, right, uh.. Take off your shirt and get on the bed.” 

The words escape before you realize the implication. Bakugou raises an eyebrow before snorting.

“Tch. Weirdo.”

You flush as he takes off his shirt, laying down on the bed. The wound running down his abdomen is not deep, but it is long. It’ll be difficult to heal, but you’re always up for a challenge. You wash your hands before activating your quirk. A glowing aura surrounds your hands, transparent in color, but before you can focus on changing the color to heal Bakugou - a spaced out Kaminari stands before you with his signature thumbs up. Snot is running down his nose and his eyes have this blank look like no one’s home. 

“hewwoo?” 

“Oi! Dunceface! To your right!” 

“wa-whee-whaa?” 

That’s Kaminari gibberish for “Where?” Being Recovery Girl’s intern and constantly healing Class 1-A along with other students in the hero course has made you quite familiar with the unusual side effects of overusing one’s quirk. You created a book with translations for Kaminari’s most used gibberish phrases so you can treat him more efficiently. Today, you tried placing his juice box and cookies on the table to the right to see if he can find it himself. But he’s having problems finding what direction is right.

“Your other right, dumbass.” Bakugou growls as Kaminari bends down to look for his juice box under a chair. You giggle as you help him locate his snack before ushering him to one of the recovery beds to take a nap. He knocks out in no time, snoring softly. Bakugou grunts, his hand pressing against the wound on his side. 

“Don’t touch, it could get infected.” 

“Tch. I know, but look.” He releases his hold to show you the blood dripping down his abdomen. You curse for not healing him sooner when he was clearly a higher priority than Kaminari. How could you forget the number one rule as a healer? There’s no time to beat yourself up for it so you grab a cleaning cloth to wipe away the blood before activating your quirk once again. You close your eyes, focusing your energy into what you’re about to do which is close up a wound. Red swirls behind your eyelids and you focus the color down your body to your hands. You open your eyes to find them glowing a bright, luminescent red - a stark contrast to the dim lighting in the room. Bakugou hisses at the touch; your hands trailing along his abdomen. You look up to apologize when you notice Bakugou’s flushed cheeks, as red as your glowing hands.

“Are you okay? You’re a bit flushed.” You deactivate your quirk in your left hand to touch his forehead. It’s cause for concern if he has a fever due to an open wound, but you’re taken aback when Bakugou swats your hand away.

“I’m fine! Shut up and heal me.” He looks away, but you catch the persistent redness now making its way down his neck. You return to healing the wound. It’s almost closed, but you can feel your energy draining quicker than usual since you didn’t have enough time to recover earlier. 

“Hey, you good?” 

“Mhm. Al-most… done…” You bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to concentrate the last of your energy into closing the rest of the wound.

“Don’t push it, dumbass.”  Bakugou grunts and despite the harsh tone, there’s a tinge of concern underneath. 

“Heh.. could say… the same… for..” 

You trail off and your hands glow brighter by the second that you can see red behind your eyelids. You feel the wound seal shut and when you open your eyes you see there’s not a scar in sight. This is the first time you were able to completely heal a wound on your own. You smile at your accomplishment. 

“You can take your hands off.” 

You flush before ripping your hands away. The quick movement gives you a head rush, the room spinning in circles.

“Whoa.” Bakugou grabs you by the shoulders and reverses your position so you’re laying down now. 

“My head hurts…”

“No shit,” Bakugou snorts, “What’d I say about pushing?”

“Go beyond... plus… ultra…”

The last thing you hear is Bakugou laughing, a soft smile curling his lips, before your vision goes black.

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

You wake up to the smell of roasted coffee and cinnabons. Faint voices go back and forth, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. The light streaming in is gone; the room now darker than before. Jeez how long were you out?

“Took you long enough.”

You whip your head to see Bakugou sitting on a chair and nursing a cup of coffee. The bed next to yours is empty. Kaminari must’ve recovered meaning you’ve slept for more than an hour.

“You stayed.”

“Yeah, and? Wanted to make sure you didn’t die ‘cause of me.” 

City lights shine bright, and the hustle and bustle outside suggests the city isn’t going to sleep anytime soon. Live music roars from nightclubs and people laughing on the street would entice anyone to join the party. It’s pretty hard to believe Bakugou would stay behind on a Friday night when it’s common knowledge that you need to sleep after overusing your quirk. But here he is, that same strip of red running along his cheeks and nose like he just got a cute little sunburn. 

“You like laser tag?” Bakugou asks.

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, shrugging when you answer.

“Never played.”

Bakugou balks, shock written all over his face.

“You never - what kind of person - nevermind. If we hurry, we can make the last round.”

Maybe this time you really were dreaming. You subtly pinch yourself to make sure and nope, this is real life and Bakugou is inviting you to hang out.

“Sounds... fun? But I… um…I’m not really part of your squad…”

You didn’t want to overstep. It seemed like they were a pretty tight-knit group and you’ve never hung out with them outside of school. The fear of ruining their night because you didn’t vibe with them twisted your gut. 

“Gimme your phone,” Bakugou says.

Still in a daze, you give him your phone without question. He takes his phone out and not a second later you hear a “ping” from yours, He presses a couple buttons before handing it back to you. 

“Congrats, you’re part of the squad.”

You see that you’ve been added to a group chat called “keeping up with the crackheads”. You don’t have time to contemplate exactly what you got thrusted into as Bakugou is grabbing both of your jackets hanging on the coat rack, handing yours and pushing you towards the door. 

“I- um.. Thanks… I guess...? Bakugou, what’s going on?”

You’re already halfway down the hallway, everything happening too fast without a clear explanation. Bakugou groans, clearly frustrated that you’re not a mind reader and he has to actually communicate what he’s thinking. He grabs your shoulders, gently shoving your back against the lockers, and planting his hands on either side of you. Being this close to Bakugou makes you feel a familiar flurry of butterflies as you’re caged in and forced to look into those crimson eyes. 

“I. Like. You.” He smirks, getting a kick at your flustered state, before leaning away with his hands in his pockets, “And I know you like me too.”

You don’t know what to freak out over first. The fact that Bakugou knows about your crush or that he likes you back. Also, how does he know you like him? You haven’t told anyone about your crush, preferring to keep your cards close to your chest.

“Don’t talk in your sleep if you don’t want me to know how much you wanna run your hands down my ‘chiseled abs’.”

You squeak and cover your face with your hands, too embarrassed at what else you might’ve said in your sleep.

“Chill, dumbass, it’s cute.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading you to a night full of riveting laser tag, making new friends, and first kisses. 💖

[whiskey-writes]

Return Teaser

A SPN x reader fic

-x-

Six months. Eleven states. An area spanning from the west coast to a couple hundred miles east of the cascades.

And seventeen cases of hunters vanishing without a trace.

(Y/N) had been investigating the disappearances for the past several weeks. Even after figuring out the pattern, tracking this thing down had proven to be just about as easy as nailing smoke to a wall. It had taken her a handful of all nighters, countless hours spent pouring over the internet, and approximately five gallons worth of caffeine, but she at long last traced it all back to the source.

She played her way right into their hands, and now the real hunt began. The die was cast, and she had all her cards laid out on the table in a high stakes game of life or death.

“Hey, Bobby.” The weight of the words hung heavy in the stillness of the air. It wasn’t looking like she’d be making it out of this hunt alive, and that grim, unspoken reality read loud and clear just in the way she said hello. She was in some way thankful her call had gone straight to voice mail. It was easier if she just didn’t think about how what she was about to do would upset her uncle.

(Y/N) sat with her back pressed against the far wall, phone held up to her ear by her non-dominant hand. Her arm was propped up by her knee, while her opposite leg lay stretched out in front of her. She ran a hand through her hair and suppressed a weary sigh as she spoke into the phone. Barricaded inside the little cabin and armed to the teeth, there was nothing left to do but sit and wait as the moon rose higher and higher into the night sky.

“So, listen. I don’t have much time.” (Y/N) said, fingertips absentmindedly tracing the sigils etched into the stock of the shotgun that lay in her lap. She had soaked every bullet, blade, and weapon she could in dead man’s blood in preparation for the coming battle. “This whole hunt just went full shit show. We are dealing with vampires after all. But it’s not just that. This is far greater than we anticipated. I’ve got my back to the wall and I’m out of options. If I pull this off then there’s a chance I’ll be able to end this once and for all.”

(Y/N) paused, taking a shaky breath before confirming what Bobby will have already guessed for himself.

“They’re tracking me down as we speak.” These blood sucking bastards were targeting hunters, and (Y/N) was going to make sure there was hell to pay for it even if it cost her her life. “I’m holed up in some cabin just outside Missoula waiting for them now. It’s god damn near 23:50, at this rate the frost is gonna bite me before they get the chance.” She joked, shifting her position and adjusting her hold on the shotgun so that the barrel now rested in the crook of her neck.

One of the logs in the fireplace fell with a soft thud as the charred wood burning away beneath it crumbled apart. The subtle sound caused her body to tense up, anticipation making her jumpy. Chuckling to herself beneath her breath, (Y/N) tilted her chin up, letting her head fall back against the wall while her eyes drifted shut.

“One way or another, my bike better be back at the salvage yard one week from today, or Singer - I swear to god - I’ll crack open all of your beers so they go flat.” The playful threat brought a slight smile to her lips. Bobby knew full well how much her motorcycle meant to her, he’d been the one that helped her build it after all. This was her way of asking him to come get it if she never returned. “By the way, if you’re still looking for the TV remote it’s in the glove compartment of the Chevelle. I’m not sorry, and I regret nothing. Yell at me about it when I get back.”

With that, (Y/N) hung up and pushed herself off the ground. She wasted no time in destroying her SIM card and tossing the remains into the fire. She had more than just Singer’s number saved in her contacts and she wasn’t about to risk putting Bobby or anyone else in danger.

Another hour passed by in peace, during which time (Y/N) made a couple rounds of the small little cabin, checking and rechecking her defenses. She had taken all the blood she could when she broke into the morgue on her way out of town, right down to the very last drop. She knew she could hold her own for only just so long against a nest this strong, but (Y/N) was going to do everything in her power to slow them down.

~ x ~

“You’re a hunter.” Sam Winchester leaned against the frame of the doorway with his arms crossed, watching as his older brother got down on the floor so he could look under the couch. He wouldn’t have been able to wipe the massive grin from his face if he tried. “You kill monsters for a living, and you can’t find one little remote?”

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean snapped gruffly, his frustration steadily increasing the longer he searched.

It had been about six hours since they had brought Bobby home from the hospital. Sam and Dean had just finished working a case in Wichita when they’d gotten the call from the hospital informing them that a Mr. Snyderson had just been admitted to the OR for an emergency surgery.

It was roughly an eight hour drive from Wichita to the hospital, so by the time the boys arrived it was nearly three in the morning. According to the nurses, Bobby had been lucky; he’d come in at just the right time and they were able to remove his appendix before it ruptured. The surgery went well, there were no complications, and “Bill” would be able to go home after 24 hours of observation.

It was now just past six the next morning, and the two boys were making themselves at home while Bobby rested upstairs. Dean had made the discovery that Bobby’s TV was stuck on some shopping channel with the same infomercial crap on loop while Sam was out on a breakfast run.

Their brotherly bickering (and Dean’s hopeless search for the remote) was cut short the moment Bobby Singer walked in.

“Would you two idjits pull your heads out of your asses for once?” Bobby spat, absolutely furious as he walked through the door. He muttered violently under his breath as he retrieved a file from one of his shelves. “...of all times...that damn reckless, stubborn...”

Dean exchanged a questioning look with Sam. Something was wrong; Bobby was worried.

They both followed Bobby into the kitchen, where he threw the file onto the table before digging out his bottle of pain killers from the hospital bag that sat on the counter.

“What happened?” Sam asked gently. Dean occupied himself by eating one of the donuts Sam had bought for breakfast, while Bobby and the youngest Winchester took a seat at the table.

“My phone was turned off while I was at the hospital. I got this last night.” Bobby said, putting his phone on speaker before replaying the message. The three hunters sat in silence, listening intently as the message played. Dean had moved to take a seat at the table during that time, his brow furrowing in thought.

“She made herself their next target.” Sam stated. Bobby nodded grimly.

“Why?” Dean asked, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair. “Who is she?”

“Her name is (Y/N) (L/N). She’s been a hunter all her life.” Bobby‘s face fell as he spoke of her, too tired to mask the worry in his eyes. “And she’s every bit the bull headed, stubborn bastard her father was. Not to mention twice as reckless.”

Bobby opened the file filled with papers hand handwritten notes, sliding it over towards Sam and Dean so they could look through it.

“A couple of weeks ago I get a knock on my door at four in the morning on a Saturday, and there stands this stinkin’ idjit all bright eyed and excited about some new case she’d stumbled across.“ Bobby scoffed.

-x-

Interested? Let me know if I should continue! Thank you so much for reading ❤️