#hope none of you guys get grey hairs from overworking

[ratwithhands]

I had an idea a while ago of Emmet getting white hairs from stress after Ingo disappears, so here's the sketches that came out of that. Little man so tired he looks like he got bleached. Also long hair just because :)

anyways have a good day and see you later ^^

[cynettic]

What about play hide and seek with Diluc, Childe, Kaeya and Zhongli with small s/o? Maybe fluffy

Summary - Playing hide and seek with Genshin characters, with the advantage of being short.

Pairings - Reader x Zhongli / Diluc / Kaeya / Childe

Warnings - None? Unless you’re still at that stage where you think kissing is gross :(

Penpal - I enjoyed this so much!!! Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoyed it :)

A/N - I used to be a pro at hide and seek- but that���s probably cause I was a tiny thing as a child. I can’t fit into half the things I used to fit into lol. And bro- why does my autocorrect keep changing ‘crunchy’ into ‘crunchyroll.’ Like that doesn’t even make sense- it feels like it’s making fun of me :(

Hide and Seek with a Small S/O

Diluc

When you first mentioned it he didn’t hide his confusion.

The idea of playing a game he would play when he was younger made no sense to him, not until you revealed that you just wanted to drag him out of his desk and get him to do something else. ‘Anything’ else. Diluc was known for overworking and you swore that if he continued at this rate, you’d start to see grey hair.

“Grey hair?” He’d asked one time, hand reaching to tousle his red locks. “I wasn’t aware that working caused such side effects…” he flashed you a suspicious look, not entirely convinced. “Unless this just another one of your ploys to get me out of my office…?”

“Bingo,” you replied back with a smile, tugging at his arm. “Now cmon, come play hide and seek with me.”

And who was he to say no to his adorable s/o?

So he takes you by the arm, following along as you drag him to the centre of the manor. No one except the two of you are in the residence, maids gone for vacation, Elzer having head to Monstadt to help with the deliveries.

You tell him to count to 30.

When he covers his eyes with both hands and begins the countdown, you scurry upstairs, knowing fully well that he can hear the stairs cream underneath you. But that won’t matter.

Being small as you are, you can fit into tiny places without too much effort. So you find the bathroom cabinet, opening the doors and crawling inside. Towels and hygiene products accompany you in the darkness, and you press your knees to your chest.

You can hear Diluc slowly get up the stairs.

Actually, you can hear the soft thump of his footsteps wherever he goes. His room, your room, just until he opens the bathroom door.

You’re especially quiet as he opens the shower curtains, peeking in the tub and giving the room a quick look over. Shallow breaths as he slowly walks back to the door.

But just before he leaves the washroom, he pauses, your breaths the only audible thing as he stops. You know immediately that he found you when his footsteps walked back into the washroom, stopping right at the sink cabinets.

Oh well, he isn’t the darknight hero for nothing.

————

“Y/n?”

The cabinets door open slowly, the sudden light blinding you for a moment before you could focus back on the redhead in front of you. He’s crouched down, height still giving him a good head above the sink anyway. He lowers his figure to fully face you, chuckle slipping out of his lips at the sight of you huddled against the cramped area.

Without speaking, he instead reaches his hand to tug you out of the darkness of the cabinet. Hand against the small of your back as he pushes you towards him, till you were pressed against his chest. You bury your face into his shoulder, huffing in disappointment.

“What gave it away? I was being so quiet too…”

He rubbed his thumb across the skin of your back, slowly standing up with you in one hand. “I believe I’m a much greater listener than you give me credit for.” When he stands you up on both feet, you rub your eyes, still adjusting to the light.

“Alright,” you put both hands on the sink behind you, leaning back. “Your turn then? I’ll give you thirty seconds from up here, that should be enough.”

Raising an eyebrow, he quickly shakes his head. “I’m afraid my height would give me away in a matter of seconds love.” You open your mouth to disagree, there were plenty more spots- “But I won’t be heading back to work either, I do believe my rest is long due.” He laces your hand in his, soft sigh as he encases your small palm against his. It was comforting to be able to slide his fingers into yours, small enough to make him want to shield your body from everything all together. Keep you protected in his arms as your hands clenched the fabric of his jacket. “What do you say about resting bed then, together?”

———

Kaeya

A tad confused like Diluc at the start, but less stubborn when you insist on playing it with him.

He too works a lot, and if not buried in paperwork, he’s off doing missions outside or providing help to Monstadt residents. And when he’s off work, he wants to he’s still the tavern and drink till he drops, a habit he’s put to a stop for you, but still does on the certain occasion.

So when you ask, he can’t really say no. Besides, the idea does sound fun to a degree, why not give it a go?

“Make sure to find a good spot,” he whispers into your ear as the two of you walk along the bridge. “I’m afraid I’m a terribly good seeker, you don’t want the round to end too quickly do you?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you hummed back with a grin. “You’ll end up eating your words.”

On a side note, you scare Timmie’s pigeons away and he yells at you.

You both walk to the Whispering Woods, a suggestion made by you. Settling at the start of the trail, you tell Kaeya to give you about a minute at the very least.

“And count slow,” you clarify with accusatory eyes. “No cheating.”

With a smirk, he begins to count, facing the other way as you scurry into the forest. Being as small as you are, you could easily creep into a log or bush, or climb a tree if you really wanted. So you settled with a tree, finding the highest one with the most branches and leaves to keep you cover.

It didn’t take you long to get up.

Clawing your way while using the branches as leverage, eventually hoisted your body up into one of the tallest branches. It was only then that you let yourself relax, looking down in search of Kaeya if he’d begun searching.

He checked ‘everywhere.’

Extremely detail oriented, he knew you were small enough to hide yourself in the smallest crevices. So he looked and looked, and you could only watch from your high position in the tree, giggling at his slight frustration.

It was only when he leaned against the tree that you knew he’d found you, peering up to give you a small smile.

“Oh~? And how’d you get yourself up there-?”

———

“I know how to climb a tree,” you stated back, rolling your eyes. “Took you so long too, thought I was gonna fall asleep.”

At his pout, you began to climb down. Branches scratching your arms as you made sure you were secure with every step you took. Nothing painful, but tedious when you were being so careful not to slip and fall.

“The woods have lots of hiding spots,” Kaeya defensively stated back, eyes tracking your movements. “Do you expect me to have checked all the trees in a matter of seconds…?”

You snickered, “Yeah. You kinda are the cavalry captain yknow.” A joke of course, Kaeya was already comfortable enough around you to reveal his insecurities and let you past his confident demeanour. He knew you didn’t expect anything from him, especially not as his title in the Favonius Knights.

But before he could retort back, your leg skimmed past one of the branches, hand grip not firm enough to keep you from falling. You were airborne for a moment before your arm hit one of the branches, pushing it away from your head as you were sent tumbling to the ground.

Kaeya cursed before quickly catching you from his position under the tree, hands catching your waist and easily pulling you to his chest bridal style. Your small figure pressed up against him, head on his shoulder as you blinked past the shock.

“Ouch.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, he gently set you down to the ground, crouching to scan your form. There were various scratches, none of them bleeding along the line of your shoulder.

His big hands still held you by the shoulders, eyes trailing along the bruise on your arm from the fall. He frowned, not hiding his disdain at the newfound injury. Gently, he cradled your arm in both his hands, brushing his thumb across the red splotch that would no doubt fade into an ugly purple and blue.

“It’s fine,” you reassured to his pensive eyes. “It’s a bruise, my fault for slipping anyways.”

He seemed unconvinced, but helped pull you up when knowing he couldn’t do anything. Not here. “Alright then, let’s get you back, Barbara will be able to patch it up in no time.” You nodded, walking alongside him down the trail. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“Ha- as if. If anyone needs to be carried, it’s you and your pride. I still can’t believe you took that long to find me.”

“My- and who said my pride took a hit from that?” But he played along with your jest, keeping one hand securely around your shoulder. “My my, such a caring individual you are. I might just take you up on that offer to carry me then.”

———

Childe

Bro- this guy would’ve been the one to ask ‘you.’

He probably got the idea on one of Teucer’s visits, persuading you and him to join the younger boy in a game of hide and seek. And even if it had taken the younger boy quite a bit to find both you and Childe hidden in the closet piled with clothes, it had entertained you all.

So it doesn’t come unexpected that he tugs you by the arm, gesturing to the crisp cool air of Liyue, tall imposing buildings lightened by the street lamps.

“Oh cmon Y/n, one game?”

He’d just gotten back from work, and you who’d finished your work much earlier had been waiting around for him to get back. Settling on a night walk, you weren’t surprised he proposed the idea.

“Hm? Fine, but you’re the seeker.” Your gaze slid along the buildings, small crevices and alleyways just waiting for you to sneak in. The night air coupled along with the dead silence gave you a thrill, you might actually enjoy this.

“Fine by me! I’m giving you thirty seconds.”

Scoffing, you push your shoulder against his arm. “No way, you’re give me more than that. I’m finding a good spot and I sure need more than thirty seconds in the ‘entirety’ of Liyue Port to find somewhere.”

He had no choice but to nod along, a smile forming at the idea. “I’m going to find you anyway, but sure, go and have your try at it. Let’s see how long it takes me.”

You take up the challenge, running quickly through the streets of Liyue as you attempt to find a place.

Being small, and having so many options to hide, you figured you should find someplace Childe ‘couldn’t’ get into.

Just to see the look on his face-

Luckily for you, there’s a little stretch right between buildings with a tiny cramped up space. It’s too small to call it an alleyway, but once inside it stretches up a tad bit more.

Maybe you’re claustrophobic, maybe you’re not, but you settle on going in there just for the sole purpose of mocking Childe.

By the time you’ve fully crept inside, you could only guess that he’d stopped counting. It took a while, but eventually you heard the soft sound of footsteps against gravel, crunching the rocks on its path.

When he made it to the alleyway, he peeked into the darkness, greeting you with a smirk.

“Found you.”

———

You found yourself smiling back sweetly at him, tilting your head to the side when you said, “Ah, well you do have to tag the hider you know. That’s how we played it with Teucer~” you put your hands up innocently, watching his eyes furrow in confusion. “Oh come on, you found me, tagging me should be the easy part.”

So Childe of course tried to squeeze in the little crevice, grunting when he couldn’t fit in at all. A scornful look of frustration crept onto his face as he tried and tried again to at least get his reach to you-

“I’m enjoying the view, but hurry it up would you? You told me you’d win in no time.”

He only grew more visibly frustrated at your comment, pulling out to try new tactics. He found he couldn’t reach you by hand, and when he used one of his water swords to try to drag you to him, you kicked it away.

“You’ll scratch me!”

“I’ll be careful I swear-“

Nevertheless, Childe soon grew discouraged after nothing worked. He contemplated teleporting in there with his hydro vision… but he didn’t want to know what would get squashed if he took the chance.

He summoned his water swords again, swinging them around in his hand menacingly as he stared down. “Well,” he drawled, watching it be your turn to give him a confusing stare. “If I can’t reach you by hand, guess I’ll just have to cut my way through.”

“Huh?! But these are buildings, you can’t just-“

“Oh yes I can. I most certainly can, and believe me when I say I ‘will.’” He paused to flash you a grin, teeth gleaming against the streetlights in contrast to the dark. He stared at you as if you were prey, sending a shiver up your spine as he assumed the role of predator. “Unless you get out.”

You really had no choice, not when it came to either that or destroying buildings for your sake. And even if he was joking, which you were sure he was, you didn’t want to risk it.

“Ugh, fine you cheater.”

“Who said threats weren’t allowed?”

You only stuck your tongue out at him, getting out of the little crevice. What you didn’t expect was for him to pick you up straight after, swinging you in his arms like you would a baby. He pressed a sly kiss to your cheek, content with the way you swung your legs to break free.

When he didn’t give in to your struggles, you simply laid back, groaning. “Archons… so persistent.”

He just pressed a kiss to your lips, carrying you all the way back home and successfully shutting you up.

————

Zhongli

He can join Diluc and Kaeya in the confusion. But 10x worse.

First of all, despite having lived for so long, he’s probably never even heard of it. Would grasp the concept quick, but he’s never heard it called as ‘Hide n Seek.’

But alas, if you want to play it, consider him in. He’s willing as long as it doesn’t endanger you in any way. And honestly? He could use a little fun and games once in a while, especially with you <3

Give him a rundown of the game a few times and you’re set. As per location wise, please do it at the Funeral Parlour.

And even if Hu Tao is there, she’d probably join in :)

On the occasion that she wasn’t, and you were leaning over Zhongli’s desk and staring down at the paperwork he was filling, it won’t be too hard to convince him.

“Please? It’s a small break from your work, I’ll even help you with it after!”

Zhongli scrutinized your face, quill in his hand on hold as he stayed pensive. “I… suppose.” He settled, looking around the room. “But are you sure you’ll be able to find such a spot here? It’s a rather small area.”

You only grinned back, “Trust me.”

And he did, closing his eyes and counting out loud like you asked him to. You trusted him not to cheat, hence why you kept the countdown at 30 seconds, and didn’t force his hands on his eyes.

And well… you were small, which really only meant one thing.

Closet.

But it wasn’t your typical grand closet. No, it was filled with cabinets and little slots for paper and such. Which meant that you could fit in one of the bottom cabinets of you laid down. So being careful with the closet door so that it wasn’t audible to his ears, you laid down into the darkness, closing it up.

Waiting for Zhongli to finish counting, you slowed your breathing, waiting. He walked around the room aimlessly, and it wasn’t too long till he opened the closet doors.

You again were on the bottom shelf of a walk in closet, so he would have to kneel down to even see you.

But he did something you didn’t expect.

The closet doors shut, leaving you both in darkness.

———

The wood planks brushed up against your back, scratching your shirt as you stayed utterly motionless in an act to conceal your location. But in the darkness, you couldn’t see anything and were completely at the disadvantage.

You heard the floor creak beneath you, flinching when it came closer to your spot. You froze, hoping that it was just a coincidence and that he would step out of the closet soon after.

But instead you were greeted by the sensation of lips against your own.

Mind going completely and utterly blank, it took you a second to realize that Zhongli had knelt down to press a quick kiss to your lips. He hadn’t even tried to scare you or tap you to get the deed done. Instead he had taken his careful time to fluster you.

“Zhongli,” You breathed, slowly bringing the rest of your body out of the tiny space. “How- what…”

You couldn’t see him in the darkness, only feel the sensation of his hand glide across your neck to tousle your hair affectionately. He pulled you to another kiss to stop your voice, cupping your small body into his arms and pressing you against him.

“How could I resist?” He simply answered into your ear, a low growl that tremored through your body. “Hu Tao is gone, and I haven’t gotten to kiss you in forever.”

“You could’ve just asked you dolt…”

But you pressed in against him for another kiss anyways, smiling at the way his hands came to cradle your back. How he had to lean down to press his lips against yours, position almost predatory against your body.

[the-silentium]

A story of having each others back

Masterlist - A story of shirts

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader, Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 2754 words

Warnings: None.

A/N: There is some teeny tiny spoiler without context of the next Murphy day saga: Good Night, Good Luck. You guys can speculate on the meanings! 

Taglist: @haloangel391

The fog was so thick he couldn't see where the ramp of the ship finished and where the grass started, even from his vantage point from the top of said ramp. He lingered in the entrance of the ship, shoulder leaning on the frame, a leg crossed over the other. The humidity was refreshing on his face, calming his overworking mind, washing away the worries of the war, the dread of the loss, and the uncertainty of tomorrow.

It was calm for once, there was no one around to push him playfully hard into a wall or assault his ears with some unneeded tsunami of information or make him feel like a kid under the careful eye of an adult. He was finally able to release the tension building in his muscles and relax, enjoy some me-time while it lasted. 

Or so he thought. 

"Cross, I'm cold." Your melodious whine alerted him of your presence, mere seconds before delicate fingers slipped under the hem of his blacks to toy with the fabric, your knuckles creating a trail of fire where it grazed the skin. 

The fire of your touch burned his insecurities, hushed the whispers of his demons, and most of all, melted the thick walls shielding his heart. He made them indestructible. You made them malleable. 

He chuckled at your antics, the time when he was surprised that a strong warrior like you could become such a cuddly and adorable woman whenever the ambient temperature was not hotter than your body was long gone. He'd noticed pretty quickly that you had a really low tolerance to lower temperature. 

He'd done nothing at first, merely watched you shiver from time to time, enduring your predicament without saying a word. He saw you pass your hands over yours arms more than once, but all he could do was weigh the pros and cons of helping you out of your misery. 

Because if he did, he'd let it know that he cared. And Crosshair didn't care. Not for anyone other than his brothers. They were family. They were loyal. They were everything. 

But you were special. Caring. True. Sassy. Loyal. You were the newest member of this freak family and you deserved to be helped if only to pay you back from everything you did for them. For him. 

So he'd decided that he would cover you in all the warmth he could offer. 

More fingers slipped under the hem, tentatively lifting the fabric over his abdomen, intensifying the fire with the full-on skin contact. He could almost feel your body inches away from his back, close but not enough in his books. 

"Think you can have this?" He chuckled as he got back on his two feet to turn around and meet your sheepish gaze. He had to suppress a shiver at the softness of your fingers moving over his middle and lower back as he turned over. 

"Please Crosshair." You begged with a dangerous fake pout, bottom lip poking out slightly. 

He wouldn't admit it, but he liked it when you begged. Not that you did that often. In fact, he only heard you beg once in the year you passed at their side. Needless to say that the situation was far from the one at hand, but it wrapped up his heart with the very same warmth. 

"Your wish is my command." His finger reached for the wood stick from between his lips, threw it away into the depth of the fog to swiftly remove his top, exposing his skin to the chilly air. At the sudden change, goosebumps appeared on his arms, but he didn't care. He didn't feel them. 

All he could do was admire the joy in your eyes and the excitement as you pulled the oversized shirt on, the extra length hiding not only your black shirt but the hem of your exquisitely short shorts too. 

"Thanks." You smiled brightly, eyes solely focussed on him. 

Even upside down, dangling meters in the air and prey to a carnivorous plant, Crosshair knew that you were a beautiful woman and that your beauty wouldn't lessen even covered in mud from head to toe. That smile was too damn captivating. It was too damn bright.

In the same chain of thought, nothing could be added to you and make you more beautiful. You were already perfection. But seeing you in his shirt turned everything upside down. 

He'd been wrong for so long and on so many things. 

All of his dark thoughts and low expectations caused him to repress his feelings, leaving you to think that he saw you as distracting and insignificant. 

Leaving you to give him space because you thought he wanted it when all he really wanted was for you to be part of his bubble. Leaving the path open for his brother to get involved with you without saying anything. It was slow, a pace that suited the both of you, but was way too fast for him to come to terms with his own feelings. 

"But Hunter's not here." Your cool hands found his naked waist, thumbs discovering the scars there with an utterly careful touch. He dropped the fact that you seemed to read his mind, focussing on the only thing he could think of. 

"You look like a goddess in that." He groaned, head lowering to the perfect column of your throat.

He inhaled your enrapturing smell, his eyes closing to lose himself in the moment. 

"And you're so handsome without it." You whispered as shakily as your fingers on his sides. 

He decided to allow himself this one time of carelessness. Before everything came crashing down. 

Your hands gripped his sides tighter as he nibbled at the skin, triggering a memory of your arms tightly enveloping him in their secure embrace. Of a time when he could feel the warmth of your own soul through the cage, calling out to his, but this time there was no fear. Only care. 

"I've got you Cross." Your voice echoed through his mind, distant, words from a distant memory. "I've got you." 

"I've got you." He whispered against your sensitive skin, repeating the words that rang through his mind every time his gaze found yours. 

His lips moved up your jaw to meet yours and as always, the contact was tasteless, devoid of any spark that he couldn't possibly create in the abyss of his mind. But he would take it if it meant that he could maintain the dream going. If for once he wasn't second. If he wasn't the one who took too long into accepting his feelings. 

But he was. And the truth slapped him hard in the face when you bit his bottom lip, jolting his mind out of his dream and into the harsh world where the first rays of the sun illuminated your empty makeshift bed. 

Immediately, Crosshair shot up, eyes scanning around until he noticed your body pressed to Hunter's, one of your hands gripping tightly around his shirt as if we would disappear. 

Betrayal flooded his veins and he hated the feeling as much as he hated himself at this moment. He didn't have any reason to hold this against you. You never led him on, only complying to his silence when he'd ignore you and not force your company on him. 

He wasn't even sure you were aware of his feelings until the night prior when the realization hit you like a speeder after his jealousy finally pierced his walls and controlled his judgment, forcing you in a bad position between him and his brother. He felt bad for tricking you of the sort, but he could never regret it. Finally, he saw you wearing something of his. It was one of his biggest achievement if he was honest. And most satisfying one for sure.

He got up, unable to watch any longer. As he passed, a whisper escaped your lips, your eyes were still closed, hand clutching tighter around the fabric prisoner of your grip. 

"I've got you Cross." Your face scrunched up in discomfort pulling at his heartstrings. 

He walked away despite his body aching to wake you up, to comfort you that he was still there and assure you that they were not. 

________________

He was childish, he knew it, but his heart squeezed every time his eyes met yours. He avoided you as much as possible, not that it was difficult since you were stuck in your pilot seat, deeply concentrated on landing in a warzone deep into enemy territory and he was with the others, verifying their equipment one last time before the action began. 

"Don't act like a kicked puppy. You made this." Crosshair rolled his eyes beneath his helmet, not moving an inch at Hunter's remark in the private line. "She likes you too, idiot. For a sniper you're unbelievably blind." 

"Get your head in the game." He grumbled under his breath as you started your countdown until your quick landing. 

He didn't want to acknowledge his sergeant's comment, but he deeply hoped that he was right. After all, the grey-haired clone had been wrong about you before. One last time wouldn't hurt. 

_______________

While offering cover fire to his brothers, Crosshair decided that he'd stop being an ass and talk to you. His life didn't allow him the luxury to be dithering. He had to clear up everything and to do so, he needed to corner you alone. He thought it would have been easy, you tried to talk to him all day so all he had to do was wait for you to come to him. But it didn't happen. 

After sending the ship into hyperspace, you fussed over the injuries on Wrecker's arms all the while berating him for being so reckless, forced Tech to drop his work on the new prototype that needed adjustments to force him to get some rest, and finally, you cleaned up after the mess they created at the back of the ship.

He watched you move around, picking up abandoned backpacks, open medkits, and bloody gauzes, his determination deflating with each passing second. 

Before he knew it, you returned hastily to the cockpit to jump out of hyperspace and make your way to the republican planet. 

You'd learned so quickly how to maneuver the ship, he sometimes forgot that you joined their team only a year ago. Although he did remember clearly the time when you weren't around; when the same routine would play over and over again without failing like a very boring record. You'd broken that record without a problem, adding your touch here and there, keeping them organized, making sure that they got their well-needed rest, reducing the tension with your harmless pranks and stupid jokes. He always loved his silence, but he'd never return to a time where you weren't there.

"You should go sleep." You mumbled, stretching until your bones popped. It was only then that he noticed how tired you seemed.

His hand shot out to your wrist when you made your way to the fresher.

"You're having nightmares again."

"No." You frowned on the defensive, pulling your hand out of his wrist, hurting his feelings by doing so. 

As his teeth gnashed together, he was glad he didn't have a toothpick between them as usual. It would definitely have broken under the pressure. 

"Bad liar." He turned around, knowing that if you weren't able to trust him with your nightmares, then there was no way what Hunter told him was true. 

He himself wasn't the one so blinded with love that he started seeing it everywhere. He wasn't the one with whom you'd share your secrets or the one who knew the taste of your lips or the one to get to see you parade in his shirts before bed or the one to get to sleep next-

Too engrossed in his spiraling thoughts, Crosshair didn't think when his shirt got pulled. His hand moved on its own, too used to deal with Wrecker's annoying habit of trying to lift him by the back of his blacks. With a sharp slap, Crosshair successfully removed the hand gripping his shirt. 

Before he even heard your yelp of pain, his brain made the connection. He turned around, eyes wide in surprise at his own attack, remorse flooding his chest. 

He saw the pain in your eyes as well as the tears gathering in them. With your hands to your chest, you backed away in the fresher and locked the door before he even found his voice to apologize. 

A lump formed in his throat, still not entirely comprehending what had happened, how he could have possibly let his jealousy blind him. 

Again. 

With tight fists at his sides, Crosshair made his way to the only place he could go. To bed. He made a quick job of climbing to the bunk over his sergeant's, making sure to repress his urges to accidently kick him in the sides and laid there over the covers, eying the ceiling, fists opening and closing around nothing. 

He wanted to yell, kick, punch, shoot, get it out of his system, but all he could do was staying still, muscles stiff enough to hurt. 

It took a while, but you walked out of the fresher, your light footsteps making their way to the barracks. He almost assumed you'd push Hunter over and cuddle close to him for security and comfort. He didn't anticipate at all the pull on his sheets. 

Just to be sure that he wasn't hallucinating, he waited until you did it again before leaning over the edge. He couldn't see your eyes in the almost complete darkness, but he knew you could see him clearly. 

"I hear them in my dreams." You paused, head moving towards the door. "And sometimes I can still see the Algax around the corners." He couldn't see you shiver, but the wave in your voice was clear enough. You were scared. 

"Jump up." He didn't lose a second to move aside to make you some room. 

He pulled the covers aside before you fully laid down on the mattress, enveloping your body in its safe embrace as soon as you stayed still on your side. 

He hated the fact that he couldn't see your face and read your emotions. Or that he couldn't erase their memory of your mind. The silence grew longer and longer until finally, he had enough. 

"I'm sorry for hurting you. It wasn't- I never-" He grunted in exasperation when words failed him. 

"I'll forgive you if you hold me." He didn't lose a second at your weak voice, slipping under the cover to pull you close into his chest. 

"I've got you." He kissed the top of your head as your body started shivering, from fear or cold, he wasn't sure. Probably both. 

He gripped your waist and carefully flipped you around to switch places, putting your back to the wall instead of the black void, hoping that it would give you some reassurance. Instead, you merely hid in his chest. 

His fingers combed through your hair, waiting patiently for you to either fall asleep or say something. 

"Thank you." He almost missed it, the words muffled by his clothed chest. 

"No need to." 

"I do. You didn't have to." Your face separated from his torso, to peer at his eyes. 

He felt your hand moving from around his waist to make its way up, towards your face. His breath caught in his throat at the contact of your fingers barely touching his cheek, the very first loving contact you blessed him with. 

"I wanted to." He whispered back, hopeful that you'd get his intention so he didn't have to voice them. 

"I'm glad." Your chilly palm rested fully on his cheek, relaxing his muscles despite accelerating his heartbeat. "On our next leave maybe we can go hang out together? Just the two of us?" You silently offered. 

"I'd like that." 

Biggest understatement of the millennia. He was delighted that you'd caught on his unsaid feelings and offered him some time alone with you. 

As soon as your hand left his cheek he felt cold, already missing your touch. 

"Goodnight Cross." Your hot breath passed through his blacks to tickle the skin beneath. You moved your arms back to your chest, forehead on his sternum. 

He waited for a second, savoring the feeling of your real body cuddled against him. It felt even better than he imagined.  

"Night." 

He made sure to fall asleep after you, waiting until your breathing evened out before even thinking of drifting off. One last time he stroked your cheek, his movement as delicate as he could to not wake you up. 

He let himself relax, a hit of a smile stretching his lips at the thought of going on a date with you sooner rather than later.

Maybe being second wasn't all that bad.

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore guy - the boy in a shirt with a bat

Part One

Part Two

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

The Mystic Falls team decide they want to get rid of Kai Parker for good - and in a way that would ensure he won’t be able to come back. Death is not secure enough this time, so they go with Malivore. Who knows what the poor bastard is doing down there, but six months later, a new guy comes to work at the college - and meets the reader seemingly for the first time.

word count: 2987 ish

warnings: none

music: blink-182 - down, blink-182 - always, green day - the last of the american girls; Y/N quotes don’t leave me by - you guessed it - blink-182

MAY

Y/N was almost done. Almost-almost done, and the clock was only showing half past seven. It’s still half an hour until full sunset, and she has every chance to wrap it up and go rush to the football field in the town, perch herself on the seats and watch.

It’s just that all the troubles of all the Whitmore students were hanging like dead weight on her, and realistically, if she worked all day, every day, with a five hour sleep, and a twenty minutes lunch break, Christmas included, she would finish reading and delegating all student complaints and applications by the year 2098.

She threw herself back in the chair and pressed her palms against her eyes, letting the green specks poke the darkness. Then she realized that the music she’s been hearing for the last hour wasn’t playing in her head �� the sound has been coming from the outside world.

Y/N opened her eyes and listened. Yup, she was sure it was her own brain because nobody’s listened to that reeeally old stuff in years. There’s just nobody left in the whole state of Virginia who’s openly a blink-182 fan.

She jumped up from her chair excitedly, happiness striking in her head like a flare gun; somebody was listening to their song! At the college! Somewhere on the floor! And it wasn’t her!

Y/N left her office and walked down the quiet corridor, following the sound like a thread. What a song it was, too.

Tidal waves they rip right through me

Tears from eyes worn cold and sad

Pick me up now…

The epic teenage angst made you want to go get all the bad tattoos you could possibly spend your money on.

Y/N knew she loved that song some time ago, but couldn’t remember why. It pulled on a surprisingly sturdy thread in her heart and made it bleed in a second; like she was a teenager again, like she was on the verge of a breakdown, and the whole world was full of amazement and bursting, vivid sensations.

Y/N almost ran to the sound, holding her lip between her teeth and never noticing it. Her face was lit with anticipation as she paused in front of the door. Somebody was playing music in the gatherings hall, where the acoustics were crazy, and all the space all but welcomed all kinds of dancing, prancing and hopping. The song ended, and another started to play; and yet she knew it again.

It went like this:

I’ve been here before a few times,

And I’m quite aware we’re dying…

 Y/N pushed the door and it gave. She saw the hall, lit by all the lamps, although she was quite sure that the maintenance had already turned everything off except her office.

A guy was crouching on the floor next to the window, and a big sports bag was lying at his feet. Weird, he looked like a schoolboy, and the next second he stood up and she saw he was a young man. The guy didn’t seem to notice her at first, so Y/N had a couple of seconds to stare at the stranger. He was all jumpy, tall, boyish in a way; his dark hair was a little messed up, as he probably ruffled it with his hands; she’s never seen him here before. Being the welfare office worker, Y/N knew pretty much everyone in this huge place, - which was scary, by the way, - but this one was probably new. She couldn’t really place him neither with students nor with the staff. So she just placed him with the good music lovers. She already liked this dude. He was wearing a grey shirt with a stupid drawing of a cartoonish bat, green blood spilling out of its mouth. And Converses. Again, who still wears Converses in Whitmore or Mystic Falls?

He looked up, watching her for a second, and then waved his hand. They couldn’t really hear each other over the music, but the guy still said something. Y/N motioned towards his portable speaker which was spitting out the fast chords and energetic drumming. That was the best. That was the best song in the world, and she was almost sorry when the bat guy ran towards the speaker and turned the volume down.

���Hey- woah, I didn’t realize there was somebody alive here!” he exclaimed.

“Are you having a party?” she asked instead of a hello. They stared at each other for a mere second before letting out the air from their lungs.

“Does that bother you?”

“No way. I was drawn here like a rat by a flute. Man, I haven’t heard Blink on speakers or even on the radio, for ages”.

He smiled, and Y/N melted. The guy was approaching her slowly, walking like he owned the place. His smile was white, and his eyes, in contrast, seemed completely black, but, as he came closer, she saw they were dark blue. It’s just his pupils - so enlarged they covered almost everything, trying to devour his eye. He sure looked like he was high.

Something hit her, and backed off immediately. There was something about him, something weird, outlandish, not Mystic Falls at all, neither Whitmore, but hey. Everything in the closest vicinity of Mystic Falls is completely consumed by its spores. Everything was Mystic Falls color, the people, the nature, and the college; people spoke, walked and loved in such a way that you could tell they all come from the same place, full of scandals and vampires.

This dude, though. He looked a bit mad, Y/N reckoned, his wide smile never touched his dark eyes, and they shone with something that made her look just a little too long. He smelled like trouble. After all these years she’s been rubbing elbows with all kinds of bad, Y/N could tell who’s what. She could tell a beast when she met one. Vampires looked different to her, call it intuition or habit.

But this dude… he just looked different. He was like ink, like milk, like blood. His face looked perfect all-American beautiful, with lean triangle chin and strong jaw line. And yet, it was crooked somehow. He looked youthful, but the look about him said old. The fact that he was keeping silent a second too long, was standing an inch too close, looking at her too closely, all said trouble. It was blinding how quick she felt all that, in a flash, and against all odds, she smiled.

She didn’t know what he was.

“Ha, you’re staring”, he said, amused.

“Dude, I’m trying to remember if I’d seen you before”.

His sharp eyebrows, like two eagle wings, were drawn together in mocking concentration.

“Well. Have you?” There was an inviting smirk on his lips, showcasing two things: he had a very nice mouth. And. There was a reason enough to keep distance.

“No. I have excellent memory for faces”.

He shrugged like nothing in his easy, carefree life, mattered.

“Yeah, me neither. This is the first time my eyes are on you”.

“Wow”, she nodded, “you’re weird enough”.

“I’ve been said that”.

“How dangerous are you?”

“Uhm…” he pretended to ponder, poking his chin with his right index finger. Y/N saw a large steel ring on it, with a pretty, strange scattering of tiny dark dots. A very unusual marking, too, but she said nothing. He had a face of a TV star. She could very well picture him in a sitcom with a lame title like “My crazy family”, in which he would be the geeky, but sexy, smart oldest son of a little bit absent-minded parents.

“Like… eight out of fourteen. I’ve been to a camp once… it was a type of… you know, like a summer camp?”

Y/N found she had to actually focus to follow his thought. She looked straight at him attentively, feeling bright magenta giggle rising inside of her.

“Uh-huh. The Crystal Lake type? Or the Sleepaway Camp?”

“Get out!” he exclaimed, stretching his vowels. They laughed exactly at the moment for Billie Joe to yell about the Last of the American Girls.

“No, more like a concentration camp”, he offered, “but like, you’re alone there, so you have to do all the torturing yourself”.

“God’s sake, what kind of camp was it?”

“I literally just told you”, he replied with a pause, and his articulate face went blank. Y/N couldn’t hold off a sniff. She felt like she was a bit drunk, but that was more of overworking, late evening, lots of coffee and that everlasting feeling of despair one gets upon realizing that work will never end.

“Anyway, I learnt a lot of useful stuff there”, the boy said, “how to start a fire, how to make a knot, you know, the type you’re not getting out of, ever. A-and, like, how to make stakes out of sticks”.

Alert reddened Y/N skull from the inside. She tilted her head. Reading him was in vain. This dude was misty, he was shut off like a persona that’s uncrackable simply because it never really existed.

“What for?”

“Oh, you know, grilled sausages and stuff”.

She reprimanded herself silently for being a basket case. Yeah, sure. Grilled sausages, and only then – killing vampires; that’s how it works in the normal world.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“How dangerous are you?”

“Ow, extremely. I mean, look at me”.

She stretched out her arms, displaying herself (like a complete sellout, she thought. There goes the very first male who listens to Green Day and blink-182 and you’re already opening your ribcage for him, what a piece of work).

Diligently, the guy took a step back to get a better view. It was all very comical, with a very characteristic soundtrack.

“I am really looking, and I have thoughts. What exactly do you mean?”

“Small. Disproportional limbs. Frail muscles. Do you see? Very angry as a result. Very angry all my life. So, very dangerous”.

He smiled joyfully, wide, bright sparkles exploding in the dark of his eyes.

“I got it. Not gonna piss you off. Actually, I guess, since I’m new here, I should bond with the strong ones, right? I’ll be working as your computer guy. You need something fixed, so that you owe me a favor and don’t kill me when you get mad?”

Y/N scratched her temple, thinking if she needed anything in her laptop fixed. Ridiculously, there was something.

“Funny you should ask. I have the stupidest problem… I… what’s your name again?”

“Oh, my manners”, the guy sighed gravely, and outstretched his hand, “Mal. And you..?”

She considered his palm for a second before shaking it. A light buzz stung her which she barely noticed. Mal’s shirt was probably all synthetic fabric. She told him her name, and he gave a nod.

“Are you really an IT guy?”

“Why would I lie?” he asked, puzzled. He pointed behind his back, turning a little:

“You see that wall? I’m tearing out the old wiring right now. That’s why I’m here so late. Tomorrow you’re gonna have new wi-fi, with the dopest name and the password you’ll never guess”.

Y/N could instantly think of a thousand passwords that were puns for punk rock songs’ names. She abstained from vocalizing them all immediately.

“Alright then”.

“What stupid problem are you having? Have you tried to…” his eyebrows moved suggestively, like he was about to say something R-rated. “…you know?”

“Nah, it’s with the browser. The default search engine is Yahoo for some reason, and I hate Yahoo with burning passion… I’ve no idea how to make it Google again”.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah. I’m the college sociologist, not a bloody programmer”.

Mal couldn’t help laughing. He headed for the doors, hopping a little in the rhythm of the song.

“Perhaps I made a mistake in detecting you as one of the leaders of this pride”, he mumbled, “where’s your office? You’re the sociologist here?”

Y/N followed him into the corridor.

“Yup”.

“What exactly does it mean?”

“If they need somebody to listen to how they’re closeted gays, I listen. If they need me to fill out the forms for their loans, I fill them out. If teachers had a party the night before and can’t come in now because they’re hungover, I come in instead and take their classes. If…”

“Gee, how much do they pay you for that?”

Y/N felt her face move, all parts of it separately. Just thinking about it was unnerving. But that’s the job she asked for. That’s the responsibility she’d grown into. She’d been a teacher herself for some time, and then got tired of the creative pressure of coming up with the new ways of explaining one thing every day; she thought this position would bring some diversity in her everyday thinking style. She was being silly. However, when she realized she was worked up, it also brought a strange taste of satisfaction in a way that she was giving all of her, and her conscience was clear. She explained all that to Mal. Then she pushed her door and they found themselves in her darkened office. The first pink flames of raspberry sunset were trying the sky.

“Damn it”, she swore, “I’m late for sunset again”. How the fuck long did she spend in the gatherings hall?!

“You like watching it?”

“Sure. It’s like the doorframe syndrome, have you heard about it?”

Mal smiled, sprinting to her laptop that’s been waiting for her on the desk, abandoned.

“Oh yeah”, he sneered, “I was just thinking about it, but then I entered this room and forgot”.

Y/N sat in the armchair on the opposite side of her desk, thinking to herself, he’s probably gonna die really soon. Like Brandon, the last interesting dude she’d met in Mystic Falls back when she was on the haul, working at the Grill. Brandon was the best bartender the place had ever seen in its prolonged history, and he was also very clearly interested in Y/N, too. They worked together a lot, and drank at night even more. They got to know each other pretty well, which made it even worse when someone came in, in the broad daylight, and broke his neck. Just when Y/N thought that the Mystic Falls curse has been lifted and normal people could feel safe. It’s been two years, or even more, since then, and now she sat there, cynical and certain, that such a cool dude like Mal wouldn’t last here long. The place consumes people like him – those who wake up her desire to live again.

“Oh-kay, I’ll just close all this porn here”, Mal looked at the screen. Y/N has been writing a report when she heard the music, and left the document open. “You wanna Google by default?”

“Yes”.

“Come here and learn while I’m alive”, Mal said solemnly, not noticing the look she gave him, stunned at the sinister coincidence of thinking.

She circled the desk and stood at his shoulder. Mal smelled of candy (literally this time), so sweet it was almost suffocating. Did he fucking rub it in his hair?! Y/N thought of tricksters casually, the Scandinavians like Loki, whose only downfall was in that extra sweet smell of all kinds of sugar poison that gave them away. Could Mal be a malevolent spirit, luring her into a trap? What’s he gonna do? Eat her insides?

“Are you looking?”

“Yes”.

“It’s two seconds. See?”

“Oh”.

Mal turned to her in her own armchair like he owned it and looked up without a shade of awkwardness.

“You seriously didn’t know how to do that? I don’t even need to be an IT specialist to be able to fix that”.

“What are you getting at?” Y/N barked defensively. She prided herself in not understanding anything about computers, like it made her old in a wise way.

“I gotta tell you before we kick it off – I have a girlfriend”.

Y/N digested it for a second.

“Oh, you smug face”, she spat out, “you think I’m hitting on you?”

“I mean…” his innocent-wild eyes acted very well.

“I don’t know shit about this computer crap, I thank God every day I manage to even turn it on…”

“You’re cool and very nice, but…”

“I don’t hit on people”, Y/N banged herself in the chest, “people hit on me”.

Mal puffed with laughter, still looking up.

“Okay, sorry. I’ve never met anyone like you. Quiet so… helpless”.

“There. Don’t you ever assume…”

“We’re gonna be friends though, right?”

Y/N shrugged.

“Sure. Emos gotta stick together, or else we commit unspeakable things. Now, get out of my office”.

“I prefer to think of myself as a broke-free treasure hunter, thank you very much”.

Mal was smiling like a cunning happy brat as he walked out of the door. He stopped half way, catching himself on the handle. Having crossed the line of the doorframe, he must have recalled something.

“What did you say about the sunsets? And the syndrome?”

“Oh, yeah”, Y/N uttered, propping herself back at the computer. She could feel evening migraine coming, together with the song blasting and echoing from the hall down the corridor. “When I see that, you know, the bloody pink when it’s just ending, I feel like I’m remembering something I’d forgotten. It’s a weird feeling. Kind of like a déjà vu backwards. You ever had that?”

Mal blinked, thinking. Seriously, this time. Looking at him, Y/N decided, that yes, they were going to be friends. He was making her feel something. Something good about all this job, and all that was in her past. All that she thought she outgrew. He was clear, black and white, sturdy, holding on to her door like he was keeping it in place.

“You have to have your head checked, Y/N. It might be terminal…”

“Get out, Mal. Don’t let my door hit your ass”.

“Jesus, you’re really obsessed with blink-182, aren’t you?”

Y/N felt no shame.

[littleoldrachel]

i am burned out (i smell of smoke)

okay, look. I wasn’t gonna post this until it was FINISHED because i am trying to learn to actually finish my wips. but. the world is sorta falling apart and i hope that maybe i can help even one person feel temporarily less anxious about it all. 

i wrote this for @gumnut-logic‘s birthday and am now over a month late, so! good! (so sorry nutty, you’re so incredible at blessing us with your words, i just wanted to do something nice for you since you’re so so good to us)

my love for virgil tracy + my silent lurking in this fandom have brought this about. i never thought i’d be writing thunderbirds fanfiction and yet. here we are (my father would be so disappointed in me).

this is my first time writing these characters, as will become painfully clear. pls be nice to me, i am fragile lol. i am horribly aware that my virg is probably too ‘floppy’ as per your post, nutty, so sorry in advance! this is me whumping your boy emotionally and mentally, but i’m gonna fix him, i swear! there are five parts (i have written the first three). 

virgil is always written as being very good at taking care of his mental health, and it occurred to me that some of the best people at this have had to learn to be that way, and so I guess this is an exploration of that? anyway, have some virgil aggressively loving his family. 

brains isn’t in this and kayo isn’t much either sorryyy. oh my GOd shut up, here you go:

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) [on ao3]

summary: in which virgil falls apart, learns how to put himself back together, and realises he doesn't have to do it alone.

word count: 2.8k ish (part 1/5)

warnings: mental health issues

timeline: i suppose this is set in early TAG verse?  jeff is missing and nobody is Coping Well.

happy belated birthday, nutty!! <3

i.

He isn’t quite sure where it began. Somewhere between three back-to-back rescues, pulling a child’s body from thick, black mud, and failing to reach the scientist before smoke ravaged her lungs, a weight settles in his chest that none of his usual coping mechanisms can shift. 

To say it’s been a hard week would be an understatement, but then again, they’ve had hard weeks before. Any time a rescue mission turns into a recovery mission, they all feel it - how can they not? - but this time, this time is different. 

Perhaps it was seeing the kid’s mother break down completely at the sight of such a small corpse. Perhaps it was the abuse hurled at him and his brothers by the scientist’s girlfriend for failing to rescue her soulmate in time. Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion and pain, perhaps it was feeling ribs break under the force of his CPR efforts, perhaps it was knowing that in spite of it all, it wasn’t enough. 

It’s like he can’t quite draw a full breath. Like his throat has half-closed and tears are creeping at the back of his eyes, but neither is willing to break the damn. It’s the heaviest kind of emptiness he’s ever known. 

And so Virgil forces it away - or if not away, then at least to one side - whilst he takes care of brothers who need to talk about the horrors they have just witnessed and the fresh guilt they now bear. He’ll take care of himself later (probably) and then he’ll finally be able to shift that god-awful weight on his lungs. It’s fine. 

*

Alan is easy enough to handle; Virgil’s pedestal will never be as high as Scott’s or John’s but he’s still Alan’s big brother, and Alan feeds on reassurance and praise. Virgil knows that both Scott and John will be in later to check on their youngest too, but for now, Alan needs him. 

“You did well today, kiddo,” Virgil says, leaning against the doorframe to Alan’s suite. His littlest brother is lying flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. 

Alan blinks slowly, twists to meet his eyes. Overly-bright cornflower blues meet steady browns and Virgil catches the tremble of Alan’s lower lip with an aching heart. 

“You did, Allie.” Virgil strides across the room and has Alan scooped into a hug within seconds. “All those people are gonna wake up tomorrow because of you.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough, Virg,” whispers Alan. “So many people didn’t make it.” 

“I know.”

(The weight on his chest and struggle to breathe will never let him forget it). 

Alan sighs, rests his head on his brother’s broad chest. “I just - I keep remembering her face. When she realised I couldn’t save her. I close my eyes and she’s just - there.” He closes his eyes and digs the heels of his palms into them.

He’s so young. It’s not the first time that Virgil has had doubts about forcing this responsibility on a teenager, but it is the first time Alan’s watched someone die in his arms and none of Virgil’s carefully crafted words will change that. Especially not now, whilst the pain is raw and jagged and demanding to be felt - no, Virgil and his brothers will be helping him to untangle this over the next few weeks.

“Wanna play something?” he asks instead. 

The response is less enthusiastic than usual, but soon Alan has a fragile smile on his lips as he thrashes Virgil’s Princess Peach with Waluigi (and so what if Virgil deliberately chooses the tracks he knows he’s shit at just to make Alan chuckle when he falls off Rainbow Road again?). 

*

His water-loving brother won’t be so easy (though of course, there’s nothing easy about watching someone so young trying to carry the weight of the world). Still, Gordon is at least predictable in his frustrated misery and rolls his eyes as he sees Virgil coming towards the pool with a towel in hand. 

“I’m not in the mood, Virg,” he calls, before hurling himself underwater and sinking to the bottom of the pool. 

It’s Virgil’s turn to roll his eyes, but he kicks off his shoes, sits on the poolside and dangles bare feet into the water, waiting. When Gordon finally emerges from the water, annoyance flickers across his face at the sight of his waiting brother, and he turns, kicking away from Virgil with a powerful breaststroke. 

Virgil waits until Gordon’s swum four lengths before speaking. “How are you doing?”

Gordon’s perfect rhythm barely falters as he grabs his brother’s leg and yanks, pulling Virgil into the pool and immediately swimming away. Virgil shakes the water from his hair, internally cursing his stubborn-ass younger brother and treads water until Gordon reaches his end of the pool again. 

“How many lengths is that?”

Gordon ignores him, switching fluidly into butterfly stroke and splashing away from him once more. 

Virgil can’t help but sigh; his limbs are aching and his chest is heavy and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed. But his younger brother is hurting - emotionally, sure, judging by the way he’s slicing through the water like it’s done him wrong, but physically too if the minute winces are anything to go by. (And Virgil can’t stand it). 

The next time Gordon comes by, Virgil is ready. He seizes his brother around the middle, and bodily drags him to the edge of the pool. He doesn’t often use his size and strength against his brothers, but this time calls for it. Once out of the water, the fight goes out of Gordon, and he staggers, murmuring “ow, ow, ow, ow.”

“Come here, you idiot.” Virgil pulls Gordon into a shady spot by the loungers, and begins helping Gordon stretch out overworked muscles. Gordon hisses as Virgil presses down on his calf muscle. “Sorry, Gordo.”

“S’okay.” Gordon glares up at the sky. “Just stupid cramp.”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil shakes his head. “Yeah, that or the fact you’re reliving your Olympic training after having been up for forty-eight hours straight.”

“You know if you keep doing that, your face will get stuck.”

Virgil pulls a hideous face, then grins in response to Gordon’s laugh. It feels good to smile, it shifts the weight on his lungs the tiniest bit. 

“Flip over and I’ll do your back.”

“Virgil Tracy, you’re a goddamn saint,” Gordon declares, obediently flopping onto his stomach. 

There’s a pause whilst Virgil runs expert hands over the rock-like knots in Gordon’s back and Gordon melts into the mattress. When Virgil next speaks, his voice is gentle even as his hands dig in: “You know that punishing yourself isn’t going to bring them back.”

Gordon tenses then sighs. “Damnit, Virg. Can’t a guy get a massage without psychoanalysis?”

But his voice is a great deal lighter than it would have been even half an hour before.

*

His wrists are aching by the time he drags himself out to the cliff edge where Kayo likes to perch. 

His brothers have different uses for this particular stretch of rock: Scott likes to end his morning runs here by stretching in the breeze off the waters. For John, it’s a spectacular place to stargaze, not least because it’s so very quiet and dark up here. Gordon can often be found diving off these rocks, cheered on by Alan, much to the constant stress of their oldest brother, who attributes more than seventy percent of his grey hairs to this cause. 

For Kayo, it’s a watchpost. Her stormy eyes skim the horizon for non-existent threats, calculating, calm, controlled. And after a bad rescue (or three), she sits and waits for hours at a time, gazing into choppy waves and brilliant sunsets with the loneliest eyes Virgil has ever seen. He’s supposed to sit with Kayo in silence until she tells him what she needs from him, be it a hug, his presence, or just distance. 

This time, she makes it clear the moment he pads towards her, fading into the rocks like she was never even there. Distance, then.

*

John is possibly the hardest to handle of all his siblings, purely because he’s the hardest to get a hold of. John knows Virgil’s antics only too well, knows that a meaningful conversation about how he feels is coming, and has therefore made himself scarce. 

 Virgil sighs as John misses (read: rejects) his third call in a row. Two can play at that game, Jonny.

Instead, he dials straight through to EOS. 

She answers him immediately, as usual. “Virgil. I have been anticipating your call.”

“You have?”

“You have all had unsuccessful missions. You always call after missions with a body count.”

Virgil swallows, fresh guilt rising in his throat, and forces it back down. 

“Please can you put me through to John, EOS?”

“Of course, Virgil.”

Silence for a second, and then John’s hologram appears. His red-headed brother is studiously avoiding eye contact, hands darting over controls in an anxious pattern.

“This isn’t a good time, Virgil, I’m busy rerouting some calls to local emergency services, and-”

“John.”

“-and there’s a call from Tehran that really needs me, so if that’s all-”

“John.”

Silence. 

“How long since you last ate?” 

John’s eyes meet Virgil’s and he looks away at once. “Uh… this morning?”

“Negative,” EOS chimes in, “last intake was twenty-six hours ago.”

John’s jaw clenches. “Thanks, EOS.”

“John, you need to eat.”

“Smother Brother.”

“I’m serious.”

EOS pipes up again, “John also needs to rest. He has been operating for twice the recommended period of time.” 

John glowers, but says nothing.

“Don’t make me set Scott on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Virgil raises his eyebrows and John sighs loudly in frustration. “I will. I will. I just - thinking about food makes me feel nauseous. Like…” He swallows, looks away. “Like I’m eating mud.”

The sharp hurt in Virgil’s heart twinges violently and he wishes more than anything he could wrap John up in a bearhug and stop the world from hurting him. “What if I’m here whilst you try?” he asks softly.

Another sigh. “Fine. But only if you eat something too,” John says. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that your stomach was growling even louder than Two’s engines on the way home.”

“Smother Brother,” Virgil’s voice is hopelessly fond, even as he goes to make a sandwich that he can’t face eating (which for him, is a bad sign - he who has forced down Grandma’s inedible chilli through sheer willpower and love). The bread is hard and tasteless, the filling bitter. He chokes down a half slice, focusing instead on the fact that his younger brother is carefully chewing at his toasted bagel, eyelids heavy. Eventually, John’s shoulders slump, and his head lolls back into slumber.

His work here is done. 

Well, almost -

“Hey, EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?” 

“Can you put that playlist I made him on a loop?”

“Of course, Virgil. Venus Bringer of Peace is now playing.”

There. 

*

His oldest brother is hurting. Virgil doesn’t need ESPN or whatever freaky connection Gordon and Alan accuse them of having to know that. 

There was a death toll, and therefore Scott will be hurting. Every life lost becomes a personal fault for the man, and nothing Virgil says or does will change that. They have this argument every two or three weeks, increasingly frequently as the months since their father’s disappearance have ticked into years. And he’s so very tired of rehashing the same words over again and again, he’s so tired of being utterly powerless against his brother’s borderline suicidal recklessness, he’s so tired of his uselessness in convincing Scott to stop treating his life like some replaceable trinket.

(So very, very tired).

And yet, Virgil stands in the doorway to his father’s office, bracing himself for yet another battle with his older brother.

Because taking care of the idealistic, brash, self-flagellating workaholic is what he does best - especially when said idealistic, brash, self-flagellating workaholic least wants it.

Scott is hunched over the desk, poring over debriefs with an almost-empty glass of something amber in his left hand. Virgil makes a mental note to re-encrypt the code to the drinks cabinet - Scott had cracked it far too quickly last time, but he doesn’t stand a chance against John…

“Hey, Scott,” he finally enters the room, but his brother doesn’t even spare him a glance. Virgil takes the seat opposite him - the one he used to sit in as his father waxed lyrical about his dream of an elite rescue organisation (it hurts) - and waits. 

After five or so minutes, Scott looks up blearily, blinking in surprise. “Virg? What are you - when did you-”

“It’s gone midnight, Scott. We agreed you wouldn’t do this anymore.”

A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitches. He’s wound tight from alcohol and stress, and it hurts Virgil to see it.  “I have to get this done.”

“Not at one am, you don’t.”

“Don’t start, Virg, you know debriefs are essential - you know I have to - to -”

“To what?” 

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you have to get done? What’s so important that it can’t wait till you’ve at least slept?”

Scott breaks - quicker than usual (thank you, whiskey) which is a relief, because Virgil’s energy is down to its last droplets; hell, it’ll be a miracle if he even makes it to his room after this. 

“To figure out where we fucked up! To explain to the fire services that we did fuck-all for their rescue efforts! To figure out why I wasn’t fast enough to get to those children! I have to - to know,” he flings himself to his feet and begins pacing. “Fifty-four people died today, that’s fifty-four lives we should have saved, and I have to know why we failed so it never happens again.” He slams both hands down on the table, scattering papers to the floor. His eyes are wild and slightly bloodshot, and Virgil’s heart aches for the pain in those cerulean blues. 

The fight leaves Virgil’s spirit, because for once, he’s having a hard time reconciling his own failings with the number of bodies he’s pulled from mud and rock today. Usually, he is the first to reassure his brothers that they did all they could. But on a day like today, with the weight of whatever-it-is on his chest, it’s just not good enough. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave Scott alone in his pain. 

“What can I do?” Virgil asks quietly, and Scott stares at him. 

A pause. “Just - just be here,” Scott allows at last, sinking back into his chair. 

“Always,” Virgil says, and he means it, even through the fog of this exhausted, low, heavy feeling. 

“You okay?” Scott says, looking him over with a frown, and Virgil curses internally, because of course, Scott notices what none of his other siblings have. 

“As much as any of us are right now,” Virgil answers, as honestly as he can. Scott clearly doesn’t quite believe him, because he keeps shooting Virgil surreptitious glances laden with concern, but he lets it go. Perhaps he too lacks the energy to fight him on this. 

(It’s not enough and Virgil knows it. It’s not enough to stop his brother from working himself into an early grave and it’s not enough to blame poor construction work for the collapse of a tower block when he should have been able to save them).

(He’s not enough). 

*

He’s exhausted. He had thought he was shattered before, but now - 

The heaviness in his chest is a gaping wide hole, and the edges are raw and ragged from trying to hold himself together. His throat closes and clogs, but the tears won’t come, even as misery wells inside of him.

He looks blankly at the piano he sometimes uses to pull himself back from edges like these - edges that plunge down, down, down into an abyss he daren’t explore. Only the tug in his chest isn’t there. The canvas on his easel remains blank, his paintbrush untouched. Hell, even the idea of a nice, hot shower has him cringing at the effort and self-care involved.

What the hell’s the matter with him? 

He can’t quite explain it, and for one usually so attuned to others’ emotions, this awful lowness is startling. Because it’s more than lowness, and it’s more than heaviness - it’s more like a complete absence of feeling, an emptiness that he doesn’t know how to name. 

Perhaps, it will shift in the morning. Perhaps, this is the consequence of pushing yourself to over-exhaustion and beyond, and then expelling what little energy remains to support your loved ones. Sleep will help, Virgil tells himself. Rest makes everything better, you will be better in the morning.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Local Teen Unaware of how Weird Family is, Local Goth Decides To Go All In and Learn Magick, Exhausted Teens Do Fun Dumb Teen Stuff 

It was the day after they’d taken down Skulker, and Tucker had to collect up the armor.  Danny helped him, of course, and he flew home with some help from his favorite ghost boy.  They landed in Tucker’s room, and Tucker gave Danny a hug as soon as the suit was set down.  Danny returned to his warmer flesh and blood self and hugged him back before they got to work searching for a port to plug Tucker’s laptop into.  Thankfully even the dead respected the U in USB and they manage to connect. Before long, however, Tucker’s mind wanders from his code-breaking program that’s now hard at work with Skulker’s head and to his situation with Sam.  And considering what all he’d learned about Danny’s family so far, he might as well ask. “Danny do you have access to transparent solar panels?”

“Yeah, all the windows at Fenton Works are solar panels - I think they run at uh 50% efficiency.  Why?”

“Danny, that’s like, the exact last piece I need for my solar-powered car design.”  Tucker was tempted to inform Danny of how amazing that fact was, but he knew Danny wasn’t a fan of being extraordinary, so he’d let it slide for now.  “Now I just need some way of building it.”

“Well, you have the design itself saved right?”

“Yes…”  Tucker wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was hopeful that it’d be a place he liked.

“We can just print out the design at my house?”  Danny shrugged, as though that was obvious and the most simple thing in the world.  “We have like, a pretty big 3D printer, it’s uh modular, and we use scrapped metal from junkyards that we liquified as filament.  We can print a car pretty quickly.”

Danny was going to say something that made Tucker fall completely in love with him one of these days, the idiot.  “Danny I need you to take me to this 3D printer.  Now.” Skulker’s head was left where they’d put it on his desk, the rest of the suit stuffed in Tucker’s closet, and the pair flew off to Danny’s house.

When they arrived at Fentonworks, they turned to one of the other buildings on the block and set down there, Danny taking the time to unlock the door and everything.  “So this 3D printer you guys have…”

“Well, Dad calls it the Fenton Fabricator.   See, there's a theory that went around a while ago when 3D printers and fabricators first started, it was the Recursive Loop Theory. It goes like this. You buy a 3D printer. Mid-range, sorta useful, but with enough detail and strength that you like it. But then you need something a bit more detailed. So you look online and you find a set of 3D models for a second printer. This one you can build on your machine, and with only some minor parts you can make the more detailed printer for a tiny fraction of what it would cost.”  

Danny took them to a set of stairs and Tucker was so focused on his friend he nearly missed all the art Danny’s ever done hanging all over the walls.  

“So, you can make more detailed parts. And you find designs for a bigger printer. It's modular and sorta rough, but it needs those detailed parts. So you can then build massive somewhat detailed pieces… and so you do. And now, with your 3 printers, you find designs to a fourth. Bigger, better, more detailed, it's another generation, and you can print it off your current designs. Boom, bam, rinse and repeat.  Eventually, your diminishing returns drop till you can’t make a more detailed printer, but at that point, you have one hell of a machine, particularly if you have a couple of crazy hackers building your final design as a custom project. Course, it’s not quite that easy. We had to fabricate a lot of weird and unique bits for them in other ways - well, my folks and their friends in the Secret Scientists did anyway."

“So the Fenton Fabricator?”

“Is a massive, customized high detail 3D fabricator that can even print metal and glass, yes.”  Danny turned on the lights as they entered a large underground workspace. Tucker saw the fabricator and felt he might’ve gone to heaven.  It was a massive aquarium tank, easily twenty feet from corner to corner and at least eight feet tall. Above it, hanging like a mechanical spider on segmented green and red limbs with shiny metal joints and points, was a motorcycle sized 3D printing extruder. Tucker could see a set of lasers for dust printing, a pair of high-heat high-speed extruders for wires, several dozen smaller legs with colors and specific grades of wire, all of which fed up and around the room to spools of plastic and cylinders of dusted metal.

“There are hidden parts in the walls with directed gravity manipulators and some arms kept out of the way until needed for assembly-based stuff.  I think Mom and Dad built a car or something down here recently. The canisters are all refilled completely.” Danny shrugged, moving around the lab and grabbing up papers - notes about what feeds to use, hints for setting things up.  “I can help you connect up and plug in your stuff - though you’ll have to leave it here so that the thing can print. If you’re legit making a car here, it’ll take about 2 days to finish printing it out at all, let alone assemble.”

“Danny, after I finish with that, we are so using this place for other projects together, do you understand me?”  Tucker saw doors that likely lead off to other rooms in the lab and wondered just how Much of Fentonworks there was.  “This is too amazing.”

“If you say so, bro.  Here, let’s get started.  I can help with setting up the print file.”

Sam had to say, going through the bs of school was beyond irritating when both of her friends were barred from the school until they could get around the weapons the Fentons were installing.  Paulina’s gratingly loud personality was especially difficult to tune out that day, and Sam found herself feeling proud of her self control in not throwing something at the shallow cheerleading idiot when she started going on and on about the upcoming spirit week.

Once school was out, Sam grabbed the board that Danny apparently made for her after he finished Tucker’s, though she wasn’t sure how, and put on her helmet.  New, magnetic boots planted firmly on the board, Sam pulled out her phone, put in the address of the Skulk and Lurk, and activated the Nav AI that Tucker had managed to make an app for to download.  “One of these days Tucker is going to overwork himself into an early grave.” Shaking her head Sam took off into the sky, and no amount of gothic reputation could keep the smile off her face or prevent her from cheering.  “Woooohoooo!” Who could possibly blame her? She was flying .  There was nothing more awesome than this that she knew of.

When she arrived, Sam had her board hover itself up to the roof, where it was less likely to get snatched by someone who thought it’d be cool to snag a hoverboard.  Walking into the store, Sam took off her helmet and grinned. The Skulk n Lurk was one part book store, one part poetry reading area, and one part coffee shop. It had the gothic, occult theme down pat with black, blue, and shades of purple being the only colors to be found around the store.  Heading straight into the books section, Sam managed to flag down an employee and nudged him in the arm. “Nice mohawk, Chris, I see you’re branching out.”

Chris turned around, hair dyed a brilliant blue and his clothes all pastel shades of purple and grey with a bat-shaped nametag pinned on his chest.  He smiled and elbowed her right back. “Yeah, just got it done the other day. How’re you holdin up, Sam? Parents still trying to push you into being a prep?”

“Such is my curse.”  Sam sighed and leaned heavily on Chris while he laughed.  “But, that’s not what I’m here for today. Think you can help me find some books on magick?”

“Cursing people is wrong, and will always go wrong for you, I hope you know that.”

Sam rolled her eyes, standing up straight.  “It’s not for cursing anyone, Chris, it’s for something else.”

“Hitting that cheerleader with a love spell is not the way to go about getting over your crush on her.”  Chris smirked and turned away from her, walking steadily while Sam scoffed and scowled at him.

“That’s gross on two fronts.  A love spell sounds ridiculously creepy, and I don’t have a crush on Paulina of all people.”  Sam made a gagging noise and Chris laughed yet again.

Ludicrous notions about cheerleaders aside, Chris lead Sam to a section about magick and left to go help another customer while Sam browsed.  She held her hand up, letting her fingers brush over the spines of the books as she read their titles and stilled. There was a vibration, warm and far more humid than any bookstore should be and humming so much like Danny and Agatha and even that piece of trash Grovsner did when she was close.  It was a feeling that she hadn’t really noticed until now that all of the ghosts she’d encountered shared, however few of those there were. The tiny hairs all over her arms and the back of her neck stood on end and Sam grabbed the book.

Roots, stems, rain, warmth, leaves, petals, heat, crushing cold, withering emptiness, life granting rain and growth .  Sam dropped the book and just barely bit off a loud swear, staring at the cover.  Magick: The Life Blood of the Earth.  “Well.  Danny can see weird shit, I guess I can feel it.  Being that close to the portal must’ve done something to me.”  Picking up the book slowly, Sam waited for any weird feelings to hit her again.  When none did, she grinned slowly. “Let’s see what I can do with that.”

Danny takes some of the time after fighting Skulker to relax at home, get his schoolwork done that was emailed to him, and figure out a plan for working around the school's new anti-ghost security system.  It had been two days already and he was coming up blank. Of course, it's at dinner that Danny thinks to ask his parents. "Hey Mom, you said the Fenton Finder works by keeping track of a ghost's ectosignature, right?  What is that, exactly?" Jazz, as she standardly did when Danny instigated ghost-themed rants, looked as offended as one might have had their mother been described with every cuss word in the dictionary. She stabbed her chicken alfredo while holding this look for 5 continuous seconds without blinking.

Mom smiled wide and ecstatic.  "Well you see, Danny, an ectosignature is the frequency of electrical signals running throughout a ghost's body, shaping its form and directing its actions."

"Like brainwaves?"

“Exactly, hon!”  Mom reached into her pocket and pulled out a macaroon, which Danny devoured immediately.  “When a ghost manifests outside of the Ghost Zone, its ecto signature is a signal being broadcast from the Ghost Zone into our reality.  Since ghosts are 4-dimensional constructs made of exotic matter that of which exists beyond our standard perceptive abilities, a ghost can receive this ectosignature from just about anywhere on Earth or beyond.  Like the best cellular reception in the universe.”

“Like any signal though, an ectosignature can be tracked!  And that signal can be disrupted and blocked!” Dad only spoke in exclamation points Danny realized some time ago.  He waved his fork around in presentation at the blueprint that his mind had likely superimposed on the air next to him.  “The Fenton Thermos™ uses charged ectoplasm and what I’ve coined as Fentonite to isolate any ectoplasmic mass contained inside of it from its corresponding ectosignature by creating a four-dimensional enclosure!  The filthy ghost is still charged with the ectosignature though, there’s a centralized network of energy that allows the ghost to immediately take on its form after it’s released.”

“So the ghost is conscious within the thermos?”

Mom shrugged.  “As conscious as a ghost can be, sweety.  It’s not an actual person or anything, just a static imprint of what used to be a person’s thoughts.  Like an A.I.”

“The Fenton Finder™ used scanners specially made to detect ectosignatures that are on our satellites up in space!  It’s also how our security system works, though that works off of scanners here in the house!”

"So is there a way to track down ghosts by their specific ecto signatures?  If you can track the general signals maybe you can create a way to lock into a specific one."

"Mm, I suppose we could!  That'd be useful for tracking down that scum that attacked you and friends!  We've got the blueprints for the ecto signature scanner down in the lab somewhere if you wanna try the idea out, son!"

"Will do, Dad.  I'll tell ya how it goes."  Danny grinned around his chicken and pasta.  He had a game plan now. 

After dinner, Danny raced downstairs to print out the blueprint from the computer - his father stacked the blueprints in an infuriatingly chaotic way that Danny hadn't the patience to sort through - and then ran through the door on the left.  Behind it was a hallway into a tunnel, one that lead Danny to the alternative lab under the building right next to the house. Hopping into his wheely chair, Danny slid over the linoleum floor to his work table and laid down the blueprint.

"Alright, I can work with this.  A signal can be tracked, and it can be isolated.  Which means that My signal can be isolated and tracked specifically."  A smirk crossed his face. "Which means the scanners can be set to ignore my signal.  Perfect!"

Danny slid over to the laptop connected to a second Fenton Fabricator, glad that his parents were always thorough enough to make a back up of everything they did.  "This should be done in no time. Then Sam can help me test it and Tuck can- speak of the devil." Danny whipped out his phone and hummed, tilting his head at the simple message his best friend had sent him. 

FriarTuck: Hey Dan, almost fin breaking the security in Sklkr's suit.  Bout to crack this badboi open n make it mine. Muahahahaha! Hyd?

"Ugh, stars, I don't wanna think about that asshole."  Danny shot back a quick reply and set his phone down, finding a notebook he typically kept around.  Writing in a code only he, Tucker and Sam knew, Danny got everything down that he could. "Skulker has been a major set back in my plan to prove not all ghosts are evil to Mom and Dad, and a few other weird developments made themselves known.  I can now see everything in the lower intensity ultraviolet spectrum 24/7 instead of having to concentrate, as well as the electrical currents running through everything; I can somehow see my emotional connections with people I'm close with and use those connections to influence their emotions as well as read them clearer than other aurae."  He stopped, taking a breath and looking over what he'd just written. " Mierda , ain't that creepy?"  Danny pulled on his hair a bit while he wrote.

"Joining that on the list of creepy-ass things about Danny: I can reach across that link to everyone and pull on their love and affection and all that and use it to heal myself.  Stars, that's such a gross way to look at everyone's care for me. Just a fucking- a bandaid? A free trip to the nurse in a minute?"

Turning back to the parts being made, Danny huffed and dragged his nails against his scalp a touch too roughly.  "Physiological changes in my ghost occur when Tucker and Sam are in danger; Canines grow into fangs and according to Sam my voice starts to echo as though it's coming from everywhere.  Thankfully a check in Tucker's mirror proves that the changes are temporary. Reaction to my temperament? On that note: being a psychoreactive exotic material, the ectoplasm that makes up my ghostly body reasonably reacts instantaneously to my emotions, but it seems to be enhancing them as well.  It's either that or maybe puberty, but I have a feeling puberty doesn't make you violently angry at the slightest provocation and likely to turn any ghost you see into a splatter on the ground." Danny groaned, closing his notebook. "I fucking Executed Skulker. What the fuck? Why didn’t I just suck him into the thermos?"

A ding from his phone and Danny snorted.  

GardeningClaws: Hey Star boy, don't go angsting without us there to hug you.  We will know and you will pay the price.

"And what price is that, being buried in a pillow fort?"

GardeningClaws: do you know how many pillows I have in this house??  Do you think, like a fool, that I won't use them against you?

Danny laughed, sending a quick 'fair point' before heading to the door opposite the one into the house lab. Behind it was a room with rows of lockers, each holding three sets of suits.   Danny didn't need them though. At the far end, there was a large octagonal metal rim, blast doors sealed shut within.

Opening it up to just the right coordinates, Danny watched the doors pull back and felt the building charge of the portal's startup.  For a fraction of a second, Danny was filled with a bone-deep fear that gripped his entire body and held him stock still. With a thunderous crack, the fabric of space-time was folded around and torn, and Danny relaxed, staring out at an expanse of white and grey.  Opening the blast door, he let the void fill him up and spread outward to chill his bones and freeze his veins. Skin blue, eyes and freckles green and his fluffy hair snow-white, Danny flew past the event horizon and gasped silently at the sight before him.

The moon is so much more beautiful when you can look with your own eyes instead of through the lens of a helmet visor.

Sam, smartest of the group that she was, called Danny and Tucker both to head to her house for a horror movie marathon.  “After what we’ve been through, none of these B rate movies are gonna scare us.” It was so close to inarguably true that the boys both shrugged at their phones and headed on over.  Danny came down from the sky in that space where everything was heat and impossible colors, everything around him highlighted in a panorama view that almost made him dizzy. Landing in an alleyway, Danny checked to make sure he didn’t see anyone around him and took a deep breath.  He folded himself up, cold edges practically trapped within him tugged and bent until the brilliant moonlight that bled from his form retreated into the center of his chest, light and freezing cold as it hummed in an offbeat pulse next to his heart.

Pulling the hood of his jacket over his head, Danny jogged out of the alleyway and down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.  He looked around the neighborhood properly and hummed, wondering how he never put together that Sam was rich when the address she’d given them ages ago was very obviously in the rich part of town.  “Stars, we’re really just that oblivious aren’t we?” The stars in mind, Danny cast his gaze up and smiled at the full moon that greeted him, counting the tiny dots of the stars around it while he walked.  Thankfully, his odd kaleidoscopic vision seemed to extend to his human form a bit and his foot froze mid-step as a car drove past him at an intersection. “Sweet mother of the gods, why can rich people not drive right?”

When he got to the gates of Manson Manor, Tucker was there typing away at his phone.  When he looked up Danny waved and grinned, pointing a thumb at the huge mansion behind the gate.  “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s just so much .  Why does anyone need that much space?  How do they keep it clean?”

“If I meet some butler named Alfred I’m going to eat your hat.”

“Are you sure you wanna make that bet, Danny?  This is looking Batman-ish.”

The gate opened up before Danny could respond to that and instead, he nudged Tucker’s side before jogging toward the door.  Sam was there, opening it before Danny could trip on nothing and faceplant into the mahogany or whatever expensive wood the door was probably made from, and he instead landed on a soft carpet.  Tucker nudged his foot with his shoe and Danny groaned, resigned to simply laying there for the rest of his life. Two pairs of hands lifted him up from the ground however and Danny laughed, getting up properly.

“You can’t just let me wallow in my shame in peace, can you?”

“Of course not,” Sam scoffed.  “If you’re going to be ashamed, I have to be there to make sure it’s appropriate.  Now, c’mon!” Sam dragged Danny down a few halls, and up some stairs, followed closely by Tucker.

“I need to make a map of this place so we don’t get lost the next time we come to visit,” Tucker muttered, and Danny nodded.  When Sam opened the door she was headed for she let Danny go and grinned at them like a cat that’d eaten the canary. Walking in, Danny felt his jaw drop and took a moment to soak in what he was seeing.  “You have an entire movie theater in your house?”

“I know, it’s grossly excessive and we absolutely don’t need it, but-”

“Sam, what the heck are you talking about?”  Danny waved a hand in the goth’s face and snorted when she swatted at him.  “This is awesome! We can marathon every Dead Teacher movie here and it’ll be like when we went to see it in the actual theaters but better !”  Danny pulled down his hood and hopped over one of the chairs - of which there were two whole rows - and plopped himself into the soft cushioned seat with a laugh.  “The only thing that could make this room better would be if you had movie snacks.”

“Well, good thing I have a popcorn machine right back there full of fresh popcorn, a cotton candy machine, and ordered us pizzas.”  Sam grinned, sitting next to Danny with a bowl in hand full of greasy buttery popcorn, and Tucker sat on his right. “What should we watch first?”

Halfway into Dr. Sleep, the pizza arrived and three laughing teens had to pause the movie and pull themselves together from the heap of giggles that they’d become.  “Oh, oh stars, that hurt , laughing so much hurts!”  Danny leaned on Tucker while Sam leaned on him, the bowl of popcorn practically forgotten next to Tucker.  After a few minutes, Danny took a deep breath and patted his friends on the back. “I can grab the pizza - I can fly, so unlike you two I can actually go and be back before the things are cold.”  Before either friend could protest, Danny let the shimmering void of silvery dark cold spread out from the center of his chest to every hair on his body in a flash of light. He slipped through Sam and Tucker like water through the air and flew off toward the red aura of the pizza guy, diving to transform behind the front door when he appeared outside.  In just a moment he was back inside and setting three pizza boxes down on the snack table. “I see we got ourselves a meat-lovers for Tuck, a veggie everything for Sam, and-” Danny gasped. “A dragon’s tongue pizza for me! Aww, Sam~”

“Oh stuff it you goof,” Sam said as she and Tucker grabbed slices and plates.  “I just knew that you’d complain your pizza isn’t spicy enough unless it has ghost peppers, reaper peppers and every other kind of spice known to man and dolphin on it.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, already scarfing down his first slice.  “Dolphin? Really?”

“Dolphins are the closest animals to humans in behavior and observed intellect, Tucker.”  Danny took the time to go through three slices of pizza while Sam ranted about how dolphins might as well be classified as non-human people before pointing accusatorily at her.

“There is nothing wrong with my sense of taste, thank you.  Anyone with a strong enough tongue can handle this pizza, Sam.”  Danny took a bite to emphasize his point and smirked when he was flipped off.  “I’ve just got the strongest stomach here.”

“ Excuse you? ”

“Unlike you, I can eat veggies without my stomach declaring a mutiny.”

“Um, go fuck yourself?  That was the lowest of all low blows, I am utterly betrayed !”  Tucker covered his forehead with the back of his arm and half fell backward.  “Truly, my trust has been shattered by mine own brother, how could you? And I’ll have you know that the amount of capsaicin you consume is well beyond what any human being should have in their body.”

“Funny, I’m pretty sure I’m not human.”  Danny paused mid-chew, ignoring the look of disgust on Sam’s face over the two of them talking around their food.  “I wonder… what smaller changes like that might be going on because of my ghost? Like, regular puberty is already horrible enough but now I’ve got like, ghost puberty to deal with.”

“First of all, ghost wise, you’re baby.”  Danny pouted at Tucker, feeling mildly offended.  “You haven’t even been half-dead for a whole year yet, you’re baby.”

“Tucker, can you be reasonable for one moment?”  Danny nodded, gesturing to Sam, who was clearly the only one with her head on straight between them.  “Danny is always baby, not just because of his ghost.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Danny rose up in front of the movie screen, less crossed in the air as he frowned down at his friends.  “I am offended, I am revolted, I dedicate my life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ and this is the thanks I get?”

“I wonder,” Sam said loudly as she walked toward his pizza box.  “What it would taste like if I put cotton candy on your pizza?” Danny dove for his pizza box, nearly crashing into Sam as he grabbed it up and flew toward the ceiling.  He flipped upside down and stood with his feet to the ceiling, grinning down at his friends. Carefully opening his box he took out a slice and stopped.

“Sammy that is a wonderful question!”  Gravity shifted, reasserted itself in the correct direction, and Danny flipped with it, landing in front of the cotton candy machine.  He dipped his pizza slice into it and smirked at the despaired wail of his friend while he ran away from her, munching away at his unholy pizza slice.  “This is so sad, Alexa-”

“You don’t think I’d have Alexa in my home, do you?  First you defile my cotton candy, now you insult my common sense?  Do me a favor and parish.”

“Been there, done that.”

“As amazing as all that is, I was wondering something about you, Danny.”  Danny flew over to Tucker, landing on his shoulders with a snicker. “So like, can you do that thing from the movie?  Like, turn your head all the way around like an owl?”

A wide grin spread over Danny’s face and he set his food down on the table, before pulling the void up and out and around himself.  Bright silver light illuminated Tucker and cast odd shadows on his face. To think about later.   Danny turned his head slowly, cautious of being wrong, and almost stopped when he heard the pop of the joints in his neck.  Still, he kept going until he was looking at Sam’s gaping face right behind him.  He raised a hand to give her a thumbs up and winced at the sound of more popping joints - though, fascinatingly enough… “None of this hurts at all.”

“Well now I gotta see you spider-walk up the walls, that’s just the natural result of you showing off like this, Danno.”  Turning his head the rest of the way around, Danny saw Tucker’s phone pointed at him and snorted. “Dude this is wicked !”

“Oh my gods, we have to time you, hold on.”  And like that, Danny was doing laps around the walls and ceiling, reversed on all fours while Sam timed him and Tucker recorded.  When he dropped back down to the two rows of seats, Danny crossed his legs behind him with a hum.

“Anything else y’all wanna test?”  Tucker raised his hand and Danny let his gaze slide from Tucker himself to the brilliant yellow-gold-grek air around him.  “I’m going to regret hearing out this question, aren’t I?” Tucker nodded, his grin widening and the grek in his aura growing brighter.  Danny sighed and pointed at his brother.

“Can you possess people?  Cause that would be pretty fuckin cool.”  Tucker T posed as if that would help Danny with the wave of discomfort that crashed over him at the idea.  “How would you know? Go ahead, try me. See if you can like, take me over.”

Danny drew the darkness back into his chest, warmth and the beat of his heart and the weight of gravity tugging relentlessly against him like countless invisible chains made themselves known to him.  Digging in his pocket, Danny pulled out a coin, looking at Tucker with as much seriousness on his face as possible. “Heads I tell you to yeet your PDA into the cotton candy, tails I try to possess you.”  Danny flipped the quarter and caught it in his open palm. He took in a deep breath through his nose, and let it out the same way. “Shut.”

Slipping back into the void, Danny stared at his Tposing best friend and considered just how he was supposed to do what he had asked.  The only thing that made any sense, of course, was to slide even deeper into the void. Light and sound and even the air circulating through the room all faded away and the world shifted like a gradient scale from Xtreme Indigo to a deep dark blue sprinkled with green that lit up the empty world in bands, rivers, and threads that Danny could’ve stared at for the rest of his life and probably never grown tired of.  The only constants were the gold and green aurae at the ends of silver threads that shone like solid moonlight. Danny dove for the golden light and dipped a hand in where he guessed Tucker’s head was. The silver thread practically yanked him in, and Danny sank into a desert of yellow and glittering light.

In the next instant, he was blinking unfamiliar eyes, falling out of a dumb pose he hadn’t taken, stumbling on legs longer than he was used to and warmer than he’d been in months.  “Holy shit.” Danny held out his - Tucker’s hands and turning them over each other again and again. He took a few testing steps forward and back, turning and stretching every way he’d ever seen Tucker move, and felt a laugh bubble out of hi-Tuck’s mouth.  “Sam holy shit!”

Sam was staring at Tucker-Danny like he was the most out of this world thing she’d ever laid eyes on and she wasn’t sure how to react to him.  The cheer of figuring out yet another ability dimmed at the sight of her expression and what might’ve been horror was building itself up in his chest.  Then Sam schooled her expression and pointed at him. “You sound the way you do when the two of you are speaking in unison.”

“I feel like I’m wearing a costume that doesn’t fit right, I’ll be honest about that.  Stars, Tucker’s vision is horrible.”

“Alright, that voice thing is actually getting annoying, can you like, leave him now?”  A moment of silence passed, the room growing incredibly small and Sam stepped closer. “Danny, you can leave Tucker’s body now, right?”

“Gimme a second, Sam, I didn’t know I could go into him in the first place.”  Danny huffed and closed his eyes. He focused on what was different and wrong about being in Tucker’s body instead of his own, thought about floating upward to the surface of a large body of water, the moon coming to his mind’s eye and he reached for it.  There was a solid kick at the edge of his shadows, golden sands rising up and filling the empty space to push him up and out toward the moonlight and-

Danny flopped onto the ground face first, sensing a trend of him faceplanting on Sam’s floor, and Tucker let out a loud gasp.  “Holy balls, that was weird as fuck !”  Danny flipped around onto his back, letting his own familiar warmth and heartbeat fill his senses before he looked up at Tucker and found him wiggling his fingers and toes.  “It was like blacking out or something. I had the weirdest dream where I was like, I dunno, made of fire or something?”

“It was a lot of weird, hard to describe feelings on my end but mostly like a suit that doesn’t fit right.  Like, I know what my body feels like and that wasn’t mine, ya know?” Sam and Tucker nodded and while Danny knew they had absolutely no idea what he meant, it was relieving all the same.  Standing up, Danny reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the scanner he’d printed earlier. “By the way, I made something that’ll help me get back into school.”

Tucker, without missing a beat, said, “That sounds like a horrible evil device.”  Sam snorted and Danny nodded. “What does it do?”

Danny launched into an explanation of what he’d learned about ectosignatures and his idea for tricking the security system at school.  “Also,” Danny added when it came to mind, “the car should be done printing in my basement by now.”

“Wait, you not only finished designing it but also started making it?”  Sam looked between them with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean printing?”

“The Fenton Fabricator™ is a giant, modular, high detail 3D printer that can make complex metal technologies - like our hoverboards.  The first 3D printed car took a couple of days and it wasn’t as complicated as this so I guessed about 48 hours.” Danny shrugged. “Probably done by now.”

“Isn’t that cool?”  Tucker practically had stars in his eyes.  “We can build anything in there, Sam!”

“Before that, we gotta get this ecto signature of Danny’s recorded."  Sam held up the scanner and Danny nodded. Things had to happen in the right order or things would go wrong.

Danny reached inside of himself and pulled the dark, endless space between space that rested within him out to wrap around him like a cool, relaxing blanket.  The extreme indigo of the world rose to an even more brilliant blue and purple that blended together and unwove from each other and wrapped around everything. Tucker shone from within with gold that glittered like desert sands and Sam was wreathed in the viridian green of the forests.  The threads between them were silver and thick as though woven from many. "I never need to take drugs cause all I need to do to get a trip is go ghost. I swear."

"Yeah, well, I think I have the reading on you right here.  Tucker, can you make any sense of this?" Tucker rolled over and stared at the data on the Fenton Finder remake.   After a moment of silence, Tuck started tapping away at his PDA ferociously. "I'm gonna guess that means yes."

"I can record this signal and have a filter to keep the school's system from recognizing you as a threat by tonight.  Think we can break in and do it then?"

"Probably," Danny shrugged, flipping a few times in the air.   "Ishiyama probably had them set the security system to an activation button or lever or verbal input.  They wouldn't want them to make something automatic in case a ghost was too close to a student."

"Fair.  Tomorrow night then?"  Tucker grinned as Danny tucked that blanket of not so empty empty space back into the very center of his everything and flopped onto his seat.

"Sooner I can tell my family we beat Skulker the better.  I don't like worrying them like this." Ever since his Spirit Vision or whatever got turned permanently on, Danny could feel the undercurrent of anxiety that ran through his family.  It made his skin crawl with the itch to make them all feel better and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Agreed, I can only keep this info from my parents for so long."  Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. With a grin she handed the scanner fully over to Tucker and ran a hand through Danny's hair, messing it up as much as she could.

Danny swatted away Sam's hand after a moment and sank further into the soft cushiony seat.   "Your chair is eating me, Sammy."

"You've been getting a healthier amount of meat on you, so yeah it might be."  Tucker was steadily getting engrossed in his task and Danny knew they had precious few seconds before he was completely lost to them so he decided now was a good time to be a dick. 

“So like, when the first hoverboard exploded and I put up a forcefield on a reflex we completely skipped over that cause of hyper-focus but like.  Should we talk about that?"

"You have protective instincts," Tucker mumbled, "and ghost stuff reacts to the deeper parts of your mind right?   So it's just you defending someone you care about."

"Which reminds me."  Sam poked Danny in the sides until he was squirming and giggling to get away.   "You're keeping like, a journal of all the things you can do right?"

"Mostly notes on what I learned about ghosts in general, like a bullet point list of the stuff that happened with Agatha and Skulker, and stuff but yeah.  I need to add ‘owl neck’ and ‘possession’ to my list of Things I Can Do."

“And what, pray tell, is on that list?”

"I can turn intangible or invisible, defy- no, actually, with what happened at the zoo I guess I can influence gravity, I can see all the radiation in the world, which is a trip lemme tell ya, I can apparently make a wall of ectoplasm?"  Tucker and Sam were staring at him for a long beat of silence before both were tackling Danny and pulling him into a big group hug. “I know, I’m awesome, but so are you guys and you should celebrate it.”

“Yeah, I am pretty awesome,” Tucker said with a grin.  “You guys are lucky to know me. I feel I deserve a reward for the amazingness I bring to this group.”  Tucker was promptly dropped by Sam onto the floor and Danny laughed.

“Another cool thing you can do is heal yourself and other people.” Sam poked Danny in the side until he was squirming away from her in that unreal state of being, slipping through her fingers like the space between air and flopped onto Tucker’s lap before solidity came back to him.  “That’s probably one of the coolest powers you have.”

“One day, Tucker is going to copy everything I can do, but with technology.”  Danny poked Tucker a couple of times and got his hand swatted away for his trouble.  “He’s already copied my language-”

“Spanish doesn't belong to you just because your dad is Mexican, Danny, try again.”

“And now he’s tryna say what’s mine isn’t even mine, can you believe this guy?”  Danny didn’t even try to hold in his laughter now, waving a hand emphatically in Tucker’s face.  “Next he’ll say I’m not the greatest ghost fighter in the world-”

“Your Mom.”

“Or the first boy to step foot on the moon-”

“Neil Armstrong - also, did you just say you walked on the m-”

“Or the unthinkable, like I’m not the very first Fenton that’s gonna be built like a brick house.”

“No no, you can’t just talk your way out of this one, Danny, you were on the moon? ”  Ah, Danny loved riling up his friends.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 32

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: None

A/N: I swear this is fluffy. Maybe... Idk... Maybe I don’t even know what that really means lol. Either way, it put me in my feels. 

Also, please forgive me if there’s a slight lull after this chapter. I’m a little bogged down with work but who knows, maybe inspiration will strike.  

Tags are open!

“I’ve gotta take care of some things today,” Bucky says over his second cup of coffee. You’ve drug the dining chairs to the balcony and are watching the sunrise, it’s chilly but pleasant, the peace feeling so far from the scene that took place here the night before.

“Ok,” it was such a vague statement you feel awkward prying for details. Nervously you make the liquid in your cup spin in a slow counterclockwise motion.

“It’s nothing bad, promise.” When you look over at him he smiles, “Just a day labor thing I pick up every now and then.”

“Oh!” You honestly hadn’t thought much about how he made money.

He laughs, “We can’t all be master thieves.”

It’s a joke, it stings though. You had never wanted to be a thief, had worked your ass off so you didn’t have to be. Of course, he didn’t know that. “You know thievery isn’t my main skill set.”

He squeezes your thigh gently where his left hand’s been resting as if to assure you he didn’t assume it was. “What is?”

“Well if we go off my bachelor's degree, costume design with a nice and useless sociology minor.” His brows raise. “Didn’t know your girl was college educated did ya?” It slips out, something you’d just say casually before, ‘your girl,’ but you know it means something else here.

Those eyes narrow a bit, a smile playing on his lips, but he says nothing about it. You divert, “Not that either of those is worth shit to me now…” you think. “Maybe thievery is currently my main skill set.” You shrug.

“Nothing wrong with doing what you have to.” He looks out at the lightening sky, “I was always good with my hands. Easy enough for me to find something under the table that doesn’t ask many questions.”

“Did you used to do stuff like that?” You look at his profile, lit by the rose gold morning his eyes seem grey. Something like a smile lifts the corner of his mouth, he looks down and the few strands of hair too short to be pulled up fall into his face.

“Yeah,” he tilts his head to look at you, “dock work, construction, anything that would pay really.” He flexes his right fist, “Even entered a few boxing tournaments, won too.”

“Boxing?”

“Yup. What else was an Irish Catholic kid supposed to be good at?�� He picks up his mug and drains it. “Even taught Steve how to fight. Lord did I regret that later.”

You’re reminded of what he said last night about Steve, it had bothered you, “Can I ask you a question?” You’re hesitant, afraid to open some old wound, “About Steve…”

He looks at you, studying for a second, “Sure, can’t promise how well I can answer…”

“If it’s too personal I understand…”

That gentle laugh, “Nah, it’s just that… I just don’t have it all back yet is all. There’re still some blank spots.” You nod, pausing, weighing the pros and cons of posing this. “But,” he says, “talking to you seems to… help somehow.” His smile is far more impressive than any sunrise.

You sigh and dive in, “Last night… you said he did something stupider than dying…”

“Yeah.”

“What… exactly did he do?” You take a sip of coffee.

“He went and became Captain fucking America.” You choke on your mouthful and spew into your mug coughing. He laughs, big and ringing. “Don’t drown on me.”

“I just. What?!” You wipe coffee from your chin.

“I thought you knew that. You went through my books on Friday.”

“Yeah. But, I honestly didn’t look that far into it, got too freaked that you and I had the same taste in pizza and flung the thing across the room.”

He laughs, “What, hundred-year-old assassins can’t have good taste?”

“Look it was a lot to wrap my head around in a short amount of time.” You say jovially smiling at him, “I was focused on the information about the guy I chained to the wall, not the other characters.”

“Tried to chain anyway,” he winks at you. “Guess we didn’t make it into your history books.”

You shrug, “I vaguely recall some mention of Captain America from school but to be honest the whole golden boy image didn’t exactly catch my attention.” He nods in agreement and before he can say anything something else occurs to you, “Wait!” You glare at him, “How in the sweet holy fuck did I remind you of Captain America of all people!?”

He shakes his head smiling, holding up his hands, “No. No. I said you reminded me of Steve. Steve Rodgers and Captain America aren’t synonymous. At least not to me.” A little laugh escapes him, “Steve was a 90-pound stick of a kid who could hardly breathe most days but he’d be damned if he let that stop him from trying to face down every asshole in Brooklyn.” He seems to darken a bit, “Captain America was a propaganda poster boy to sell war bonds.”

That was the image of Captain America you had in your head. Cheesy star spangled images from some battered public school history text. Then less overworked but none the less poster worthy images of him after The Battle of New York you saw when you were catching up on everything you’d missed while Hydra had you. Nothing in there felt like anything someone could connect to you.

That distant look is on his face and he leans forward resting on his knees, “I remember… seeing him for the first time after. My unit had been captured, Hydra had us, they were already trying to make… him.” The sound of metal shifting, “Steve barreled in there like some fucking berserker, against orders, to pull me out.” You like Steve Rodgers already.

“He was huge, in comparison to the kid I left in Brooklyn anyway. I couldn’t believe it, thought I was hallucinating. But no, that was him. Same bullheaded ass I had known most of my life, running into fights he didn’t have a chance in hell at winning, no regard for his own safety, just now he had the body to back it all up.”

His fists flex. “I was furious. Steve was supposed to be safe, unfit for combat, and the only thing I had to worry about was him getting the shit kicked out of him at home. Now I had to worry about Nazis and Hydra and… I couldn’t keep him safe from all that.”

A hollow laugh slips out, “Guess that’s always been a thing of mine…” He looks at you, trying to smile, sitting up, “Trying to keep people I care about safe even when they’re too stubborn to let me.”

Not sure what a good response to that is you slip your hand into his metal palm and lean into his solid shoulder. For a second he doesn’t move, and you wonder if this is too much contact, then his hand wraps around your own. Slowly he buries his nose in the fluff of your hair and breathes deep. Silence wrapping around you both.

Once the pinks and oranges of the sunrise fade to blue skies you head inside. Bucky goes straight for the closet and begins rummaging around without a word. You fill both mugs, wrapping your cold fingers gratefully around the warm porcelain.

He walks back and holds his right-hand open, palm up, “Here.” At first, you don’t see what’s there but then, laying flat, there's a key. Tentatively you lift it with your power and set his mug in his hand. The key hovers for a second before you pluck it from the air, expression questioning. “It’s not like I expect you to stay locked in here like it’s some ivory tower while I’m out,” he flashes you a smile.

A key. To this place. To his place. Suddenly it feels heavier in your palm.

His eyes are on the coffee in his mug as he says, “This is… well if you want it to be…” He looks up at you with those goddamn gorgeous sapphires and says, “your home too.”

You wonder if he knows what those words really mean to you. It may have been a while ago but he had a home once, one with a family who he loved, a city that was always his. Home was always so fluid a concept for you. Constantly shifting, crumbling, or being ripped away. Home felt like love, a thing you wanted deep into your bones but that you were terrified of because it could be gone so quickly. Still…

“I…” Despite your efforts your voice cracks, betraying your emotion. Instead, you just nod. He lets out a breath, like he had been scared of your answer, sets his cup on the counter and plucks yours from your hand.

The look on his face is so happy and relieved. When he pulls you into his arms you feel safe and warm, and wanted. All the things home should be. You realize that this place is one thing but it’s him, he is home. And goddamnit you would fight like hell against anything, even the ghosts in his head and your own, to keep him.

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays  @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets  @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barness @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius   @auskitty   @katecolleen @handplucked @piensa-bonito @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter

[theres-no-paradise]

Sorry not Sorry

Chapter 10

Summary:  A random number wakes you up early on a Saturday morning. But it doesn’t stop there. The stranger keeps on sending messages, and you have no idea what is happening, when you start to develop feelings for the unknown person.

Pairings: Tom Holland  x Reader [submit your name: How it works]

Y/N your Name Y/F your Friend

Word Count:  2289

Warnings: none (just a little use of alcohol and making out but thats it lol)

A/N: THERE MIGHT BE MAJOR GRAMMAR MISTAKES - please tell me if you find them, I’m a little tired. You are also allowed to dislike me for waiting so long. I deserve it I guess. But motivation lost me and then I’ve been hella busy and kinda didn’t find my way back to this ff. But here we are with a new chapter. I wanted it to be a little longer BUT the stuff that happens after this chapter would kinda break the mood of this one. Also I’m sorry what I made you do in this one. Don’t be offended. :’D I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1  •  Chapter 2  •  Chapter 3  •  Chapter 4  •  Chapter 5  •  Chapter 6  •  Chapter 7  •  Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 

The Spiderman: What’s going on in London town?

 You: Not much. Im going out with Y/F

The Spiderman: Oh, fun night out!!

You: More like: She’s getting wasted and I’m being a babysitter

The Spiderman: Sounds a little like Haz…

You: lol we should hook them up

The Spiderman: absolutely haha

You: How’s work?

The Spiderman: Exhausting but fun! We’re on a little break now.

You: Don’t overwork Mr. Holland

The Spiderman: I’ll do my best 

You: Good. I gotta go now. Y/F just arrived ttyl 

The Spiderman: text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.

You: I try not to forget!

The Spiderman: You better do

Going to clubs with your friend happened quite frequently the past few weeks. Usually you were the person to stay in but dancing was quite fun and as long as your friend wouldn't get extremely wasted, you had a good time nonetheless.

One evening you were sitting in your favourite pub, having some beers before the actual night out. It was a nice and relaxing atmosphere but that would change soon once the partygoers would get their pre-drinks.

“Did you know that Tom and Zendaya are a thing?”, Y/F suddenly asked, throwing you off from your previous topic about work. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s been on the internet for a while now”

“So? I’ve known him already when the rumours spread. He would've told me”, you countered.

“Not sure. He’s an actor after all. If he doesn't want it to be public-”

“I don't believe in these rumours”

“He even flies to LA regularly”

“Yeah… He’s an actor, as you said. And in LA are all the studios, of course he flies out there.

“Just don't get too attached.”

“I won't!”

Suddenly the mood dropped and you girls had no proper topic to talk about. “Shall we head to the Club?”, you threw in and Y/F answered: “Yeah.”

 That night something happened, which you didn't plan in the first place. Something, you wouldn't even think of planning any day. Y/F’s words still repeated themselves in your mind and trying to get rid of them, you drank. You drank a lot and without realising it, you ended up being utterly wasted. Alone in the crowd, you danced to the loud music banging from the speakers, not caring about the people around you, moving with you. At some point, you didn't know when, a stranger approached you, but you couldn't care less, you just kept on dancing. Your vision was blurry and you only enjoyed the music. With the alcohol in your blood, you did things that you didn't mean to do. Once the guy who danced with you, put his lips on yours, you just couldn't stop. The kiss became more intense and the guy, whose name you didn't even know, dragged you out of the club.

You didn’t remember much after that.

The strong headache was the first thing that woke you up the next morning. You were disoriented, not having any idea where you were at first. The guy from last night lay still next to you so you crawled out of the bed as quiet as possible. Trying to find your clothes was a real struggle. His place was a mess and everything was laying around and it made it harder for you to find your stuff. Once you gathered all of it, you threw it all on and left the place as fast as possible, not leaving a message at all.

Sitting on the tube in the early morning, reality slowly hit you. Not only did you sleep with a guy you didn't even know, you felt like shit. Not because of the drunk accident but more because of Tom. Even though you weren’t dating, you felt regret wash over your body. Obviously a sign that it was a mistake what has happened last night. The walk of shame, after a crazy night out, became the walk of horror for you. Barely any people were on the tube, so there weren't many sneaking looks but the moment you phone started buzzing, you knew immediately what was going to happen.

The Spiderman: Guess who just landed in London.

 Nausea struck you immediately. Did he tell you before that he planned to come home? You scrolled up the whole conversation, no sign of any mention of home. Slowly gulping down that lump that has formed in your throat, you typed in the response.

 You: No way you're in London?

The Spiderman: Actually yes. It’s my mom's birthday, wanna join?

You: I don't know. I don't even know her, isnt that weird?

The Spiderman: Not at all. My mom’s easy going

You: Okay…

The Spiderman: It's gonna be at their place, 7pm. Want me to pick you up?

You: No its cool. I’ll be at the train station

The Spiderman: Can't wait!

You: See you

The Spiderman: xx

 The feeling in your guts could've been described as awful. Just some horrible, unnecessary feeling building up inside of you.

As you approached your station, you left the train and walked the long way back home. Thinking about how you’re gonna meet Tom later, not sure if you should tell him what you did.

Maybe you shouldn't tell him what happened? You were not dating anyway so is it his business to know who you slept with? Well, yes if you are romantically involved with him, but are you? You ask yourself a thousand questions, not knowing the answer for it. Asking Y/F for advice was not a good idea either, not only because she might also have a hangover, but after last night's conversation she wasn't really fond of helping you with Tom anyway.

You spent the day laying on your sofa, drinking tons of water and eating some cheeky Nandos from around the corner. You still felt awful about what has happened the night before and you even tried to think about what happened. You didn't remember a thing, only that some random guy kissed you and dragged you to his place. What happened after was a blackout. You couldn't recall anything, that has happened in his sheets and that made it even worse.

‘Maybe nothing happened and I’m overreacting’, you thought, trying to calm yourself down. Unfortunately it didn't work and you rolled around on your sofa, blanky nearly falling off of you.

Checking the clock you realized, it was getting late. You stood up quickly and pulled out some clothes. Luckily you took a shower once you came back home after the walk of shame in your neighbourhood. Now it was time for some decent clothes. You pulled out a dark jeans and a nice dark grey Sweater, which you pulled over a white shirt. It looked casual enough for a ‘parent - birthday - party’, you thought.

When you arrived at the train station, with flowers you just got earlier for his mom, you could see Tom standing on the platform with Tess, just as the last time he picked you up.

“Hey”, you greeted him, pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s been ages”, he said, once he pulled back, taking in your figure. “You look pretty”, “likewise, handsome”, you countered, smiling slightly. As you slowly walked to his parents house, you caught up on recent events which you haven't talked on the mobile.

“Oh, I got you something”, Tom said suddenly, opening his backpack and taking out a little, dark red Box. “Why do you have a bag with you?”, you wondered, as he held the little package into your direction. “Presents for mom”, he answered smiling and pulled the zipper closed. While he did that, you stared at the little box in your hands. “Open it!”, he laughed, having a very demanding tone in it.

You did as you’ve been told and once the box was open, a little beaver with way too big teeth grinned at you. It was holding a little plate in its hands, saying Montreal on it. “You got me something from Canada?”, you asked surprised. “I told you I would”, he grinned, running his hand through his hair nervously. “You didn’t have to-”, “I know, but I did”, Tom countered and smiled. You thanked him and suddenly that terrible feeling in your stomach was back, signalling you of the mistake you made last night. Should you tell him or keep it to yourself? You weren't sure and the worst about this situation was: Your friends words still lingered in your mind, waiting to be spoken out.

 Nikki’s Party was better, than you originally imagined. Of course, there were many people that were a lot older than you but Tom and his brothers had been great hosts. They hung out with you, joked around and played silly games. Of course, there was some alcohol too but you tried to keep it to a minimum. A wine here and there maybe. After a few hours, around two in the morning, Tom decided that it was time to go home. You said your goodbyes to the family and friends and left with the Actor. “I’ll check if there's a bus coming”, you said, trying to figure out the app on your phone that had all the details in it.

“Leave it. I’m not gonna let you drive home at this time of the night.” “I’m not a child, Tom”, you said sternly, as you scrolled with your finger on the display. Tom just pulled your phone out of your hands and walked away with it. Leaving you stunned for a second. “Hey!”, you shouted after him and followed his figure, but he decided to take up the pace and ran away. “You son of a-”, you didn't say it out loud but sprinted after him as fast as you could, only to accept the fact, that this spider boy was way faster than you. As you arrived in front of his door, holding your sides because of having the stitches, he grinned at you, giving back the mobile device.

“You’re staying here, I dont want someone to kidnap you”, Tom explained, as he opened his door and let you walk in. Annoyed at his behaviour, you walked in and got rid of your shoes, walking to the living room. Sitting down on the couch, you looked around. Nothing has changed since the last time. A little more merch here and there (Obviously Spiderman Stuff duh) but other than that, same old living room.

Tom came over with two beers in his hand, joining you on the sofa. The night wasn’t over yet, you knew that. It basically just started for you too, but hoped to not get as drunk as the night before. As time went by, you kept talking with Tom about all the things, that annoyed you at work the past few weeks. And even he’d complain about certain days, when nothing would've worked for him at all. Just as you were telling him about some differences with your best friend, you didn't mention what she said. Just that you wouldn't agree with her opinion. Tom listened closely but laid down on the sofa, his head resting on your lap. You felt your cheeks heat up a little at this sudden change of position but kept on telling him all the things. When you finished complaining, a warm feeling in your stomach grew, pushing aside all the negativity from the day.

“Can I kiss you?”

 Well, that was unexpected. And even worse, it came out of your mouth. Tom only giggled slightly at your outburst, which made you insecure, so you tried to save the situation. “I’m so sorry, that was rude. It's the alcohol and I know that you have a girlfriend and-” you stopped suddenly when Tom shifted positions and sat across from you again. “Why would you think that?”, he asked, voice filled with concern.

“Uhm, the internet is all over with it?”

“Z? We’re friends! She’s like family to me”, Tom explained, a serious expression on his face while he looked at you. “Really?”, your voice wasn't more than a whisper. “Positive. So… Didn't you want to kiss me?”, Tom joked, a smug expression on his face. Oh this boy definitely had a drink too much tonight, you could tell.

You really wanted to kiss him though, but something kept you back and as you were struggling to find the courage, Tom took the opportunity and kissed you first instead. Usually a kiss like that would end after a moment, checking each others reactions out but this wasn't the case. The innocent kiss became an endless make out session which lasted more than just a few minutes.

At some point your mind started to scream, telling you to stop, which unfortunately lead to an end of this wonderful experience.

“I slept with someone”, you blurted out as Tom was trying to recollect his thoughts. It took him a little to think about your words but then, to your surprise, he just shook it off. “Yeah, I guess that happens when your single”

“I didn't mean to though. It felt wrong”

“Why?”

“Because of you, I guess”

There was tension in the air and the sudden silence felt heavy on your shoulders. Was he mad?

“I admit, I’m a little jealous that someone else got a taste of that sweet bum of yours”, Oh alcohol, you thought but couldn't help and laugh at his words. “We surely can change that”, were your last words, before you kissed Tom again with a big smile on your lips.

The enormous guilt you were struggling about was over for now, and you let your thoughts spin back to Tom and his lips.

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