#i was living fearlessly when it was like. just me n my one friend over discord

[cerealmonster15]

TWST SECOND YEARS SAVE ME

[purplekissinger]

I am the pretty thing that lives in the castle

And I pray one prayer - I repeat it till my tongue stiffens - Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you - haunt me, then!  Emily Bronte, ‘Wuthering Heights’.

Y/N became a ghost instead of Myrtle. She couldn't care less about Tom. He wishes he could say the same. Wordcount: 3k.

At their first meeting, Tom even shrieked a little (as he later justified, solely because Y/N took him by surprise). He crept towards the sinks that bathed in the bluish light of the moon, and did not at all expect that someone would jump at him from the ceiling with a  “Boo!”

“Boo,” Y/N said reluctantly and passed through him like a light bluish cloud. Tom closed his eyes, but didn’t feel anything.

“Good evening to you too,” he said, looking at her cautiously. Y/N floated up to the ceiling and was now studying the stucco, running her ghostly finger absentmindedly over the frozen gargoyle masks. “What's new?”

“As you may guess, absolutely nothing,” Y/N responded, “but I like that you’re trying to be polite. It's nice.”

“Do you feel ‘nice’?”

“Not really. I'm using words that I learned in life, but they don't quite describe my experience because I've never experienced anything like this before. I'd rather you be polite than rude, and that's my new “nice.”

Tom looked at her, a luminous spot against the black wall, which trembled slightly, like the wings of a strange butterfly. Y/N died wearing a thin shirt, but there was no longer any way she could be cold or get sick.

“If I didn’t know you were a Ravenclaw, I would have guessed by now,” he said.

“I was different when I was alive,” Y/N said judiciously. “More lively”

“You sure were”.

“No, I mean it. I can't explain it enough for you to understand, but this experience is...changing. Everything becomes so transparent, unreal. If I were the same, I would have already cried barrels of tears and flooded the toilet”.

“There is someone who is eager to do that for you,” Tom said gloomily. “Myrtle has been whining all day long, telling everyone what a wonderful friend you were.”

“Me?”  Y/N sounded surprised. “I can’t remember that we were friends. However, I did stand up for her a couple of times…”

Tom kept silent a little longer, angrily tapping his fingers on the broken edge of the sink. When falling, already dead, Y/N hit her head here. They didn't fix the sink, instead, they put a lock on the toilet door, but Tom sneaked in almost every evening.

“Is that why you’re not angry at me for killing you?” he finally asked.

“Well, technically you didn’t kill me. You just released a basilisk, which also didn't do anything against its nature, so it's kind of like an accident. Although I can understand why you didn’t tell anyone about it all,” Y/N said. “No, that’s not the reason why”.

“You are very understanding,” said Tom. “Is it okay if I stay here a little longer? I need to prepare an essay on the history of magic, and tomorrow is the final match between the badgers and Slytherin. All of Hogwarts is shaking”.

“Make yourself at home,” Y/N said indifferently.

She went down to the Chamber of Secrets with him when the time came to seal it. Hovering silently two steps behind him, she looked at the tunnels and rusty gratings that were many, many centuries old, and for the first time something like curiosity was reflected on her transparent face. For some reason this made Tom feel almost happy. Y/N’s curiosity became almost human when, rustling its scales, a huge snake slowly crawled out of the black hole in the wall and surrounded them with a ring, and put its terrible head so as to get a better look at the guests, and hissed in greeting.

“I've read that those who speak Parseltongue can look a basilisk in the eyes and survive,” said Tom, looking down, “but I don’t want to test that.”

Y/N  looked fearlessly with her dead eyes straight into the face of the creature.

“Yes, the cost of a mistake would be very high,” she said. “What is your pet's name?”

“Susie,” Tom said quietly. “It's a girl”.

Y/N smiled weakly.

“Hello, Susie,” she said. Susie let out a squeal that sounded more like a laugh. “Nice to meet you. Unfortunately, this is not for long, because we have come to seal the Chamber of Secrets forever.”

“For a while,” Tom corrected her. “Susie, I'll be back, I promise. I don't know when, but I'll be back”.

He closed his eyes and stretched his hands forward. The basilisk poked its terrible mouth into his chest, and Tom hugged her. 

***

When Tom returned to school the next year, no one noticed anything, and he even began to think that the ritual did not work, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of the toilet on the third floor, a quiet exclamation was heard from under the ceiling:

“Oh! Tom, what happened to you?”

Like a feather or a petal, Y/N slowly descended towards him. Tom looked at her and thought that flying suited her well.

“Is it that noticeable?” he asked suspiciously.

“You have become very small,” Y/N said, flying around him. “Like this,” and made a small circle with her hands. “Where did half of you go?”.

This is how he learned that ghosts see the effects of Horcruxes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised. “Who was it?”

And Tom told her. About everything, about how he found out who the Gaunts were, about how he found his uncle, about the Riddles, about how scary it was to look at his father’s corpse, because he was so very alike him, about how he made a Horcrux right there while the bodies were still warm. It was easy for him, he wanted to talk, to free himself from every detail, take it out of his head, let Y/N look, discuss, judge.

She was in no hurry to judge. She just said:

“This could backfire on you.”

“How?” Tom suddenly felt offended. He just now realized that he would like her to admire what a cool magician he is, and maybe even clap her hands.

“I know more than you,” she said vaguely. “Not everything, perhaps, but more. Yes, I’m still on the threshold, but from where I’m standing, it’s clear that you acted very rashly.”

“What do you mean by ‘still’?"

She didn't answer.

All autumn, winter and summer he went to visit Y/N, even leaving textbooks in a niche by the window. It was quiet and somehow very cozy there, the light from the window was so gentle, and on sunny days the stained glass windows seemed to light up with colored lights. Y/N was silent for the most part, but seeing her figure out of the corner of his eye and hearing her thoughtful humming under her breath was... nice. This was his new “nice”, because something inside of him began to change inexplicably, irreversibly and horribly.

In winter, he asked her to come to the Yule Ball, and she agreed, and she blew out all the candles and ruined the chandelier. Oh, the chaos!.. And in the spring they celebrated Y/N’s first Deathday Party. For this occasion Tom stole a lemon pie from the kitchen, but Y/N politely thanked him and said that she couldn’t eat that. She fluttered back and forth, he chewed on the pie, they argued about the technique of using Fiendfyre, and it was a nice evening.

“I won’t come back here in the fall,” Tom said suddenly, because in fact that’s all he’s been thinking about for the last few days.

“I know,” Y/N said. “You are in seventh year. I can count to seven”.

“But I’ll come back someday,” he said stubbornly. “I just don’t know when”.

“I think I’ve already heard this once”.

“I’ll come back for Susie too, don’t you worry.”

“And what will we do then, riddle me this?”

“Seize the Ministry of Magic,” he blurted out. “Y/N, I'll miss you. Will you miss me?”

“I would like to tell you something nice in response, but I’ll tell the truth. Maybe I won't be here soon.”

He suddenly felt very hot. Then terribly cold.

“What do you mean you won’t be here? Where are you going to go?” Tom asked in an unnaturally high voice. “Aren’t you here forever?”

“Not really,” Y/N answered evasively. “You see, when I died, I was not at all ready for this”.

“Can anyone possibly be ready for this?”

“You must be ready, Tom. Now I know that. I was confused and made... the wrong choice. Stuck on the threshold. Didn't go any further. But I can step forward at any moment, I just need to think it over carefully and make a decision”.

“Can’t you step back?” Tom asked. He did not put hope into these words, but it sounded nevertheless.

“No,” Y/N answered simply. “I died, Tom”.

He rested his hand on his cheek and watched her spin, arms outstretched, right up to the ceiling, the invisible wind blowing her hair. He said:

“I regret that I didn’t know you when you were alive. I think we could become friends.”

“We could,” Y/N agreed. “But for this to happen you shouldn’t have killed me”.

Tom jumped up sharply and, his burning face hid in his hands, quickly walked out of the room. The door slammed so loudly that the noise echoed throughout the entire corridor.

***

Tom did not soon cross this threshold again.

He walked from Dumbledore's office after the first unsuccessful job interview in his life, he wanted to get out of the castle as quickly as possible so as not to endure this humiliation anymore, but his feet themselves led him to the third floor.

“You have become even smaller,” said a familiar voice, which he had only dreamed about in the morning. Loud, distant, but somehow comforting. “You're barely visible”.

Tom was silent. He looked and still did not believe that he was seeing her again. Finally he grinned and stepped forward.

“But you’re still the same,” he said.

“The same, but not quite,” Y/N objected, going down to meet him. “I thought a lot and almost decided to take a step further”.

“But not yet?”

“Not yet. This is a complex process, and it doesn't get any easier now that I have all the time in the world”.

“What exactly are you doing?” Tom asked, leaning against the wall. A forgotten feeling of comfort covered him in a cool wave. He felt like he wanted to stay.

“I’m thinking,” Y/N said. “A lot”.

“Don’t you need to, I don’t know, take revenge on your murderer?” he asked and realized that it sounded like a request. Lord Voldemort had a lot of requests that day.

“No, thanks,” said Y/N. She looked him up and down with a curious look and added: “It seems to me that there’s not much left of him anyway.”

Tom tiredly sank to the floor and tucked his legs under him. He wanted to talk to her again and again, so that she would answer sharply, but always to the point. He wanted her to scream at him, to rush to claw his eyes out, he wanted her to thirst for revenge.

“I sometimes saw you in my dreams,” he said. “Like we’re friends or something.”

“I have nothing to do with this,” Y/N said. “Have you made any living friends over the years?”

“Wait for me,” Lord Voldemort said without listening to her. He wanted it to sound like an order, but it turned out to be the third request.  “Y/N, I figured out how to defeat death.”

“Sure you did”.

“I am not lying. I really fought it all this time and almost won”.

“I wish you would know how stupid you look now.”

“Are you going to listen or not?! I tell you, wait, I will bring you back, I will fix everything, you will be alive again, I will get you out…”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Lord Voldemort's promise?”

She smiled. Unable to look at her, Tom stormed out.

***

The third time he returned to the castle was on May 2, 1998. He walked along the empty corridors of the third floor, and his steps echoed loudly. He was going to congratulate Y/N on her yet another Deathday. In his hands was not a lemon pie, but an Elder Wand.

The door to the girls' toilet was blown off its hinges by the explosion. He crossed the threshold and saw that the stained glass windows were broken, and golden dawn rays were pouring into the room. For a second it seemed to him that the place was empty, that he was late.

“Oh, Merlin!” a familiar laugh rang out. “What's happened to you, Tom? You have become so very small, smaller than a mouse!”

She came down from the ceiling as before, but for the first time he saw her in the pink rays of the sun, and she seemed almost alive. For the first time he saw her almost alive.

“Come with me, Y/N”, he said softly. His hand trembled a little, grasping his wand. “I will bring you back to life. I will give you back everything and  even more. Soon I will have the Resurrection Stone, and you will live again”.

She laughed even louder, twirled as if in a dance, and he felt uneasy.

“Stupid, stupid Tom,” Y/N said. “Still don’t get this, do you? Everyone gets smarter over the years, but you seem to only get dumber”.

And no Avada Kedavra could shut her up.

“But I'm glad you came. Really, I am. I wanted to say goodbye to you, Tom. I'm finally making that step”.

“No,” Lord Voldemort said in a changed voice. “Don’t. Don’t you dare”.

“Or else what?”

“Don't do this”, when was the last time he begged for something, pleaded? Was it with her?! “Stay. Stay, Y/N. I told you, I'll bring you back!”

“You forgot the magic word”. Y/N giggled. She sank to the floor and looked at him cheerfully and seriously at the same time. “I feel sorry for you, Tom”.

He had heard it once before, but coming from her it sounded and felt like “Crucio.”

“I have to go, really. There's no time to chat. I’ll tell you one more thing. Soon you will be offered a choice one last time, so please, please, don’t be stubborn. Can you do this for me?”

Tom looked at her desperately, afraid to blink, and still missed the moment when Y/N melted into the air.

***

The empty platform shines white, as if it were covered with snow. There are no trains here. No people, too. The bench blackens on the platform like a wound. A faint whimper came from under the bench.

A girl is walking along the platform.

She is wearing a thin shirt, but there is no way that she could be cold. The blue tie is fluttering in the invisible wind. She hurries to the bench, bends down, carefully takes out the bundle of robes from there, and opens it, and smiles a little and carefully presses it to her chest.

[beatsboy]

7.28.24 / day 35 of romanticizing my life until i love myself again

it’s almost 2am, i woke up about an hour ago from a 5 hour “nap” after going to a queer day market to support my friend selling their art, and it was really cute and i was honestly super social as i have not had that much social interaction lately (getting used to living alone and having to actively go out and seek social interaction has changed my capacity when i do have it so much, like crazy not feeling drained every time i leave the house because i’ve already been like 5 people’s father/therapist/cleaner/etc before getting to the place i’m going to be supportive/present for someone else) but god damn it was so f u c k i n g hot and tbh i’m very proud of myself for making it as long as i did i only made it thanks to the ice cream vender who put my ice pack necklace (shoutout to my mom who has these for menopause and told me about them) in her cooler so it could get cold again and the lemonade vender who gave me a giant cup of ice to hold against various parts of my body to stay cool af and i got to talk about the music video, and future music videos, the more we talk about this stuff, the more motivated i feel to work on music i want to get to the part where i get to be the thing i’ve been building mostly in my brain for so long

originally, we were going for summer release, and then everything got all fucked up with my roommate situation and moving but i think it was meant to happen this way; this project is better suited for the fall, regardless, and clearly brat has taken over this summer in terms of music, on all levels, especially in the hyperpop scene there are still brat parties going on in la, smaller artists are still reaping the benefits of this album (though not getting much credit, as per usual) love seeing the dare dj a petal supply remix of a brat song and getting all the credit, it’s fine we can continue letting cis white dudes get the credit for queer artists, it’s fine i was literally at a brat market today, where everyone had brat merchandise it’s hard for any other music to break through the brat noise in pop/hyperpop right now, not to mention, boypop is kind of fucking freaky, so i do think sept/oct release would be good for the theme

i rewatch the assembly of the first minute or so of footage and literally cannot believe that that is me these are the movements i practice in the shower, in the corner, in my room, when no one’s looking, movements, expressions, i rarely actually see and the thing is, when i do see, i often shrink from them when i tried to practice performing like this in front of a mirror, i always lost it, the authenticity of it, the commitment, giving fully into the performance, the character, the self that’s the only way, in my opinion, to perform, because any level of restraint pulls you back to reality, that i am just a human, an insecure boy, going through puberty for the second time in his life of 27 years, afraid that he hasn’t done enough in his short time on this earth and wishes he’d taken a life-altering journey to a faraway planet where pop music was the harbinger of liberation instead of a stint in rehab and a coke addiction

anyway, market was fun, although so so hot, and after not going out all weekend, especially after thinking i was going to go to the rave on friday night and not, i really needed some socialization, with friends, and new people, and really needed some real time spent out of my apartment i got a really cute trucker hat that says “gay son” that i’m obsessed with and a really beautiful zine made by a trans guy about his gender journey (originally to raise money for his top surgery, which he had evidently already had, as he was standing there, fearlessly, with his shirt off) i honestly didn’t want to spend another $10 (i literally still have to make my rent in the next 3 days but telling myself i got this) but i think i just feel this intense awe when i see other trans guys post op shirtless, so free in a way i cannot imagine being so, naturally, i was blinded and overcome with this feeling, so i paid the $10 for the zine, and of course i do not regret it at all another vender had a kitten cafe with two 2 week old kittens inside (pictured) because they were too young to be left alone and while i was worried about them and the heat, they were quite cute

after being at the market for over 4 hours, af and i came back to my place, where i made us greek wraps with ground turkey and homemade tzatziki and cucumbers after we walked to h mart to get fresh tortillas i showed them the latest version of “boypop” which is so close i can taste the final mix (and am a bit mad i didn’t work on it today, but it’s fine, i was exhausted) they noticed the automation, the changes i’ve been making, i feel like i’ve actually been moving forward in my work this past week instead of just hyperfixating and going in circles, which is a danger i face in the finishing phase it’s hard to let go of a project, to let it be done i still listen to “king” and think of different harmonies i could record now with my current voice and i can sing whatever i want live, but the recording is done, the mix is done, there are no more changes to be made

i think, in the same way that i love people for their potential, and not always for who they are right now, i see a song as it’s potential, which is why i can imagine so much more than what is actually in front of me, and translate that symphony in my head into the daw, and i also why it’s so hard to let go, to stop, to step away from the infinity of changes and evolutions each project could still face sometimes it feels like i could just work on something forever and as i learn new things it will keep getting better and better, but at some point, i just have to let go

when i was a kid, my dad told me that an artist’s first album is always the best because it’s the cumulation of only their best works at the time, but then they just have to keep creating and they slowly get worse and worse i don’t know why i let this stick with me, more insidious influence from my father on a career i hadn’t even chosen when i knew him, it was just some dumb musing from a middle-aged man making himself feel smart by making a comment about maroon fucking 5

his birthday was 2 weeks ago i wonder if it makes him sad, on his birthday, at the age of 66, knowing he’s grown to be the kind of man who would offer back his relationship to his child, who has grown to hate him more than he hates himself, at a price, who has grown to be a man who can put a price tag on anything, even his love and support knowing he is one of the only people left in this planet, soon including even TSA agents and the DMV, to call me that name to wonder if i will ever come back, if i will ever call, if i will ever reach out, if i will ever show up and say i’m sorry dad you were right all along i got off the path and i sold my body and i want to go back to my normal life with a check for $5000, crying, and return to his control (i won’t) he tells my brother that it’s on me, ball’s in my court, if i want to come back that’s all i have to do, say sorry and pay the fine my terms have always been more simple, which i have communicated let’s talk, with a therapist present you two (parents) schedule (since they have crazy schedules) and i will be flexible (even though i too have crazy schedule) “he said he’s willing” my mother claimed, but it never came to fruition, of course not i blocked his number at first, i had to he wouldn’t stop calling, threatening me, telling me i’d made my mother sick with my behavior (becoming financially independent after realizing i was being financially/emotionally abused) i responded to his emails for a while, but they got worse, so i stopped then, his dad died, and i unblocked him just to call and give my condolences i left him unblocked after that. he could have called any time he wanted, but he didn’t i would know if he’d even tried

i wonder if my dad, too, ever sat alone in his first solo apartment journaling about his thoughts and reflecting on the ways his actions impacted other people mostly i hope not, because i don’t want to know if he did good things before he went bad, i want his fate to feel impossible for me to come to i already know that he read the tao te ching and the four agreements, things i’ve read as a young adult, that have brought me peace, that have taught me ways to move through the world, that don’t make sense when i think of him, and it makes me uneasy i don’t want to envision him being a morally good person and suddenly turning it makes me fear that i could still face the turn, when i want to believe that i have avoided it, that i am not capable of becoming a man like That

but, in truth, we are all capable of becoming like that, of selling out to some idea worse than what we believe in because it’s easy, because what we’re doing now is hard, because the rat race is tiring on the ground because our bodies are tired because maybe our fathers were right and the world’s a hard place and maybe i won’t because i know he wasn’t right, he never was, he was a professional bully who practiced on his wife and children but it is in every decision we make, daily, hourly, minute by minute, that determines who we are, and in ever decision, we can make the turn, we can cave and be cruel, we can give in and take the easy route, knowing that each of those decisions pulls us closer to That which we fear becoming the evil you fear lies as much in buying all your furniture on amazon as it does saying something cruel to someone who doesn’t deserve it just because you’ve had a stressful morning as much as the goodness you chase lives in being friendly to the coffee employee who’s taking forever on your drink when you’re late because it’s not their fault and their morning is just as important as yours as much as it lives in buying from local artists every decision determines how you move through the world, connecting each step and choice like a river, that is where you find where you’ll end up, which ocean you end up submerged in, which fish you will find yourself swimming into the dark night with and i crave free, calm waters for when i my end

[ferusaurelius]

tag 10 people you want to get to know better! I was tagged by @bluerose5 and @bonksoundeffect -- both wonderful fellow creative people. thank you for thinking of me!

relationship status: SINGLE AND FERAL (like my name don’t you know)

favorite color: wine (a slightly purple-y maroon, in some lights) and/or warm reddish brown

favorite food: lentils if I had to choose one thing to eat on a desert island, otherwise trout

song stuck in your head: Ferrari (james hype, miggy dela rosa)

last thing you googled: movie times at the local theater.

dream trip: unsure? I’ve been a bit of a mess over the pandemic and I travel semi-regularly for various conferences. there are a few remote things I’d like to do and/or arrange with outfitters so I don’t have to do the logistics. nothing too extreme...

time: 9:43 pm

last book you read: technically graphic novels the ‘March’ trilogy - John Lewis with Andrew Aydin (currently reading ‘embrace fearlessly the burning world’ ... and like three or four others, including a biography called ‘Boyd’). 

last book you enjoyed reading: the left hand of darkness - ursula k. le guin; I enjoyed reading it but in the end did not end up liking it. just got sad over the ‘ace’ relationship and felt a bit fridged as a person. yes I know that’s not the philosophical point.... just. -shrug- it is what it is. the writing was lovely and the outcome was Not For Me.

last book you hated reading: the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime (lol). apparently there was a reason it was in my ‘to read’ pile for so long. I have no idea what all the big fuss was. at least it was a speedy read and now I can move on with my life.

Bonus:

favorite thing to cook/bake: doesn’t really count since it’s cold and I just mix ingredients together but ... smoked trout dip. NOM NOM NOM. I found a recipe I like and it’s great with white wine. can’t say I bake or cook that much since my favorite food is fish and I just settle with various canned or tinned preparations because cooking for one is um. hope you like leftovers. I am pretty good at roasting things or being patient with sauces. love savory flavors.

favorite craft to do in your spare time: writing? I guess. when I was a kid I built model rockets and that kind of kit work can still be diverting. I once whipped up a scale model of a chance vought f4u corsair (with a working propeller!) made out of nothing but printer paper and wood glue. sadly it got water-damaged or I’d still have it around. I don’t make much in my spare time since my actual job has pretty tangible outcomes.

most niche dislike: pumpkin pie. my hatred is endless and nonsensical. I cannot stand the texture or the flavor. I have tried. I cannot.

opinion on circus(es) now and in history: with non-domestic animals not so much. human performers who chose the life and are well-paid? cool.

do you have a sense of direction and if not what is the worst way you ever got lost: my sense of direction is so bad that most people don’t believe how bad until they witness it for themselves. it is generally common knowledge that if I tell you to go some way you should do the exact opposite. if I go into a store I cannot tell you from which direction I have entered. even when I have lived some place for more than 10 years I can get turned around and/or in the wrong lighting get so disoriented that I miss a turn. back in the days before good GPS maps going anywhere was terrifying because I was just moving through space while driving ... I had no or very little sense of orientation. while active mapping and other experiences have helped me over time, I still ask friends and coworkers to help me orient while I’m driving.  it would be funny if it were not so pathetic.

No pressure tag: @c-rowlesdraws @vampirepunks @pip-n-flinx @datsonyat @expertmakodriver @andersonsbiceps

I only apologize A LITTLE for the spam but you’re all lovely people and I am a bit harried with life so.

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

[imagine-that]

The L word

Pairing: Spike x Reader, sort of Spike x Buffy

Warnings: none really, kinda angsty ig??

AN: takes place in 4x09, also I’m in love with spike and proud of it

“Summers what did you do with my boyfriend?” You yell as you make your way to the living room of Giles’s home.

She looks up with an eyebrow raised, clearly un phased by your anger.

“Aren’t you supposed to only come out in the dark?” She asks boredly.

You groan, anger seething through you.

“Slayer, I mean it. Where is he?” You ask again, looking her dead in the eyes.

She sighs, standing up and walking over to you.

“He’s not here. Why would he come over here at all? We all want him dead, remember?” She explains again with a sigh.

“I don’t know! Where is he? I haven’t seen him in days. I thought... I thought maybe he’d come here to take something but I just... I don’t know!” You whine, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“He probably ran off to hunt some sorority girls or something.” She responds with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, looking back at her with daggers of a stare. “You’re cruel, you know that? You think I don’t believe that he’d jump some whores bones behind my back? Or go back to Drusilla in a heartbeat? Not that the two are any different...” You mutter with a bitter tone. “But I do. I fear that every damn day I’m with him but that doesn’t stop me from staying with him always, which brings me back to my initial question: where is he?” You repeat, looking to her desperately.

“I don’t know. I tend not to keep tabs on the non threatening enemies.” She responds.

You huff a sigh, rubbing your eyes tiredly. “Fine I’ll just find him myself.” You mutter, storming out the door and into the warmth of the setting sun.

You walk your way home, laying defeatedly in your bed, patting at the side where Spike would usually be.

After a lot of worrisome hours, you finally fall into a less than peaceful sleep.

———————————————————————————

The next day is spent wandering around, hunting for Spike. You’re restless and you know you probably look crazed, wandering around the town of Sunnydale in your sweats and tank top, your hair a frizzy mess and your eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

You wander mindlessly towards Buffy and Willow’s dorm, stopping outside as you see her familiar curly head of hair. Your breath hitches as you see the familiar white head of hair suddenly appear next to her, racing across the lawn, not caring in the slightest how he ended up there. Just that he was there was enough.

You notice the conversation the two of them had started since he appeared but don’t care, jumping onto his back, your arms wrapped securely around him as you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck desperately.

He lets out a grunt in surprise, chuckling a bit as you place a kiss on his cheek, ignoring the rest of whatever crazy conversation he’d started with Buffy.

“Hello pet.” He hums, smirking as he helps you off his back, pulling you into his side.

“I was so worried.” You whisper as he breaths in the scent of your hair.

“I’m fine, I promise.” He responds, nipping at your ear playfully and making you giggle.

Buffy rolls her eyes, moving to push you out of the way. You whimper as she shoves you to the ground, watching as Spike fills with anger, going forward and punching her in the nose, only to cry out in pain and hold his head.

Buffy punches back, making him wince.

“As touching as this moment was, I have business with you.” She growls, grabbing Spike and tying him up easily.

You try to protest but every time she manages to fight you off, threatening to knock you out the next time you tried anything.

You trail after them, not wanting to lose his whereabouts again no matter what it took.

You follow her all the way into Giles’s house again, watching in horror as she tosses him to the ground.

Spike lets out a grunt. “Hey! Watch it!” He growls, glaring up at her.

“One more word out of you, and I swear...” She threatens, pointing at him with a dangerous look in her eye.

“Back off Buffy!” You warn but she gives you the same look, somehow making you back down.

You feel weak and helpless but she manages to scare you. You can’t put your finger on why, more than likely the aggression but she’s a force to be reckoned with and you know you fighting her would only end in your death.

Spike rolls his eyes again, looking bored.

“Swear, what? You're not gonna do anything to me. You don't got the stones.” He says with a small grin, making you feel slightly better yourself.

Buffy scoffs, looking at him in disbelief. “Oh, I got the stones. I got a whole bunch of .. stones.” She responds defensively.

Spike laughs, grinning to her tauntingly. “Yeah? You're all talk.” He challenges fearlessly, his tone almost bored. You giggle a bit yourself, glad he’s not completely miserable.

“GILES! I accidentally killed Spike. That's okay, right?” Buffy shouts, glaring daggers in his direction.

“Lay another hand on him and I’ll kill you myself!” You threaten, jumping in front of your boyfriend quickly.

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. He on the other hand, looks at you, a look of pride strong in his eyes, making you grin and blush a bit.

“Uh um just a minute...” Giles calls back, sounding confused.

The two bicker back and forth while you wait, uttering threat after threat.

She grabs him, shoving him into a chair harshly. You glare in protest, making your way to her to stop her rough movements but Spike makes eye contact with you, tilting his head in a way that tells you not to try anything.

He sneers at her with anger in his face. “I get this spell reversed, they'll be finding your body for weeks.” He growls, making your face twist in confusion.

“Spell?” You ask, ignoring the heat of the moment.

“Long story babe. You’ll hear all about it when we blow this popsicle stand.” He says with a smirk, glancing at Buffy menacingly.

“Oh please, make a move. I’m dying for a good slay.” Buffy glowers back, stepping closer to him angrily.

Suddenly, the tension dissipates between them and Buffy is untying him, as he stands he allows her the seat, barely giving you a second glance.

“Spike?” You ask, confused.

He ignores you, getting down on his knees.

“Giles!” You cry out in alarm, watching with wide eyes at the scene before you.

As Giles enters the room, you watch the moment continue, frozen in your spot against your better judgement.

“If the two of you could just remain civil long enough for-“ He starts but then he gets a picture of what’s happening.

“It’s just so sudden!” Buffy says with a small, gleeful smile. “I don’t know what to say.” She adds.

“Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on earth.” Spike urges, smiling at her with her hand held in his.

You feel tears brimming your eyes, blurring your vision slightly.

“But- but I thought I made you the happiest man on earth...” You mumble, looking to him longingly. Again, he’s too enthralled with Buffy to give you the time of day.

“Oh Spike! Of course it’s a yes!” Buffy squeals, embracing him in her arms.

A second later, their lips are pressed together, moving in sync and you feel your heart shatter inside your chest.

The feeling of emptiness sinks in as you feel the tears running down your face.

Finally, spike looks at you, a frown taking over his face.

“Oh y/n, it’s nothing personal. I did love you but Buffy and I are just meant to be. We’ve got so much history, it’s only right that something comes from it.” He explains, Buffy draped over his lap.

He reaches to give your hand a sympathetic squeeze but you jerk away, cradling your hand defensively as more tears form.

“D-do not touch me.” You growl, backing away from them and hiccuping between sobs.

“Come anywhere near me again and I’ll stake you myself.” You whisper, looking to him in a haunted daze.

The happy couple quickly gets too involved in each other to care, shrugging and distracting themselves with wedding details as you back out the door, your mind whirling with the memory of seeing them together like that.

You always doubted yourself, knowing Spike could probably find someone much better than you. But you’d never dreamed that of all the women he could get with, the one he’d want would be Buffy the slayer. He’d always hated her and her friends with a passion so strong, you never imagined that passion would go into something other than hatred.

You make your way back to your place like a zombie, your head too heavy with sorrow to think of anything else.

You let your tears roll down your face as you enter, grabbing your things as quickly as possible and shoving them all into a duffel bag, ignoring anything you see that belongs to Spike. You sniffle as you make a small accidental glance at the Polaroid you’d taken of the two of you together not long ago.

It usually made you laugh when you looked at it, seeing as it was you kissing the air considering the whole no pictures thing. Spike had hated taking it but you’d insisted and when you laughed at it you always saw a small, hesitant grin come to his face.

You collapse to the floor in tears, clutching the picture to you desperately. You longed for his touch, the cool fingertips that would send goosebumps over your entire body and warmth all at the same time.

You sit there feeling useless for what feels like hours, the ripe vision of Spike and Buffy sucking face fresh in your mind, taunting you.

Composing yourself, you rise to your feet, dragging yourself back outside.

“I will not let him unravel me like this.” You promise yourself, taking a deep breath.

You pull a hoodie on over your tank top, walking out into the cool night air and off towards the graveyard, needing to clear your head. For some reason the graveyard was oddly calming to you in a sense, the constant quiet and sense of aloneness comforting for you.

Suddenly, you see the scoobies fighting demons out of a crypt. You roll your eyes, turning to walk away but letting out a sigh as you decide to be a bigger person and help.

You run over, grabbing one of Buffy’s weapons and throwing your anger at her and Spike into fighting off one of the demons in front of you. You stab it, making it shrivel to the ground and die. You feel oddly liberated and refreshed, which makes you go after another, then another, then another. Next thing you know, you’ve killed all the demons in sight.

“Woah! Can someone say rage, party of one?” Xander jokes. No one laughs and you remain sulking, crossing your arms and ignoring the couple kissing in the corner.

The gang continues fighting demons as they come. You’re having fun for a while but then you watch as Spike gets attacked by one of them and you jump, surprised by what’s happened.

“Spike!” Buffy and you shout at the same time, both running to him. But Buffy’s faster, grabbing him in her hands and making you feel green with envy.

A second later you’re absolutely seething, watching her kiss him in a moment of worry and passion again. You bite your lip, trying to prevent yourself from saying or doing anything.

A few moments and many excruciating kisses later, a bolt of lightning crashes across the sky. You don’t think anything of it at first, but then Spike and Buffy jump apart as though they couldn’t possibly be anywhere near each other ever again.

“Oh ugh.” Buffy groans, looking at Spike as if he had bit her.

“Oh bloody hell!” Spike cries, his lips curling up in a show of absolute disgust.

The both of them wipe their lips, rubbing at their tongues like they’re on fire. Spike gags and Buffy pretends to tremble in disgust.

“Spike lips! Lips of Spike!” She bellows, shuddering.

“I happen to think you’d be lucky to kiss those lips.” You murmur hoarsely with a sad smile. Spike looks to you in shock, clearly knowing what all had happened.

“Y/n baby...” He says but you turn away, starting to walk away while rubbing your arms for warmth.

“Go away.” You sigh, making your way out of the graveyard quickly.

“Y/n!” He calls after you, running to catch up.

“I don’t want to talk to you Spike.” You say weakly, not even convincing yourself that it’s true.

He runs a little faster and gets in front of you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders to keep you where you are.

“C’mon pet... I would never do that to you, you know that.” He promises. You sigh, looking at him for the first time in the past few days.

“That’s just the thing Spike; I don’t know that. You still pine after Drusilla so I know you’d leave me for her in the blink of an eye. You still chase around college girls, even if you can’t feed off them. And now you’ve gone for Buffy. The slayer. The girl you’ve hated since day one.” You ramble, needing to get everything out in the open. “I’ve always been here for you but you will always put them first Spike and that kills me, it breaks me. But I live with it because I love you. But even with that, I’ve had enough of this whole focus on what you want all the time. It’s... I can’t do it anymore Spike. I’m tired, I’m so tired.” You cry, tears flowing out of you like a river once again.

Spike holds you in his arms, rubbing a hand over your back unsurely. “There there...” he says hesitantly, clearly unsure what to do in this situation.

With his minimal efforts of help, you recompose yourself and dab your eyes, waiting for him to start talking.

“Listen to me alright? That thing with the slayer was not real. Drusilla hates me and I want nothing to do with her either. The sorority girls? Just entertaining and good to take out my aggressions. You’re nothing like any of them. You’re better. You’re better because you’re you and you’re mine and because I love you damn it!” He exclaims, his tone one of desperation and desire as he’s meeting your eyes through his entire speech.

Your eyes open wider as you look up at him, sucking in your bottom lip.

“Y-you love me?” You ask quietly with a soft smile.

He nods, smirking and taking in a sigh. “Yes, I bloody love you with every piece of me.” He promises, running his hand over your hip while the other cups your face.

You stay stunned for a second. He’d never said the L word with you before. It was implied, it was shown through actions and gestures but never actually spoken. The words being directed at you from his lips though, that was the sweetest sound you could ever hear.

“I love you too Spike.” You say with a smile, closing the tense gap between you with an electrifying kiss. You both feel it all through your bodies, the connection binding itself once and for all.

He growls into your lips, making you smile.

“That slayer had nothing on you pet.” He promises, holding you close to him in an almost possessive way.

“Really?” You murmur doubtfully.

“Without a doubt.” He confirms roughly, digging his fingers into your hair.

You let out a moan and without hesitation, he hoists you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. The two of you stay glued to each others lips as he carries you back to the cavern you live in where he shows you just how much he loves you and only you.

[dracosaurusrex]

Bookworms (Part 3)

Summary: A predicament in the Slytherin common room is the perfect ingredient for confession.

Word count: 3.9k

Genre: Fluff; enemies-to-friends-to-lovers

TW: Bullying

A/N: This chapter picks up from the moment Draco leaves the common room and starts off with his friends’ perspective. PS. I don’t hate Astoria I promise! It’s only for the story. Anyways...I hope you like it! I have this tendency to overthink a lot, so I’m going to shut my trap before I regret anything LOL

Everyone occupying the common room that night watched in awe as Draco stormed out of the dungeons. His outlash didn’t settle well with his group of friends. Moreover, it shocked Astoria to hear the sound of your name roll off from his lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so bothered before. Have you?” Pansy asked. Daphne shook her head.

“Generally speaking, I’ve never seen him get that defensive over anybody.” 

“Did you notice the way his eyes looked?” The group recalled the frustration that dripped from his voice and the fire that blazed within his blue orbs.

“I didn’t know there was anything going on between them. It’s not the first time we spoke about her when he was around.” Pansy, Daphne, and Theo all murmured their agreements. Meanwhile, Astoria sat still boiling in jealousy as the conversation lingered on. She had everything--the blood, the looks, the money, the name. She could practically have the Malfoy family wrapped around her finger. What did Y/N have that she didn’t? Suddenly, the sound of Blaise’s voice broke her out of her thoughts.

“Do you think he likes her?” With this, Astoria balls her fists and rams it onto the table in frustration, putting everyone in shock once again. 

“Draco? Liking that filthy bookworm!? You’ve got to be joking Blaise! That poor excuse for a Slytherin probably slipped some amortentia in his drink!” Astoria projected her thoughts fearlessly before storming out of the room. 

“Daphne, I think you should go check on her.” Blaise suggested. She nodded.

“I will, but she needs time alone to calm down.” Silence lingers in the air before Blaise interjects once again.

“In all seriousness though, do you think Draco has feelings for Y/N?” He asks again.

“With that expression on his face, it’s hard to believe that he doesn’t. Y/N must’ve done something important to have him wrapped around her finger like that.” Pansy says.

“I don’t even think she realizes she has him wrapped around her finger. She hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. You know her--always got her nose stuck in a book.” Daphne’s statement stirs a thought within Pansy’s mind. A wicked smile appears on her face, grabbing the attention of the others.

“Pansy, please. That smile is frightening.” Theo lifts his hand to block his view of her. She throws him a scowl.

“Hear me out. Why don’t find out then? Draco just walked out right? What are the chances that he’s with her?”

Blaise chimed in, “I think I saw Y/N leave a few minutes before he did. Do you think he followed her?” Pansy’s face lit up.

“Good sleuthing Blaise! They don’t call us Slytherin for nothing!” The girl raises herself from her seat.

“Plus, I’m over Snape’s assignment. It’s time to unwind for the night,” She looks at her friends at the table, “You joining?” Daphne and Theo get up without hesitation, while Blaise throws them a judgemental expression.

“Come on Blaise. I got a plan, and you play an important role.” She skips to where he is sat and pulls on his arm. The boy lets out a groan.

“Why can’t we let him be?” He lets out.

“Because, we love some good character development! Now get your arse up Zabini! We got more sleuthing to do!” Blaise packs his things begrudgingly before joining the group as they walk out of the common room. They sought out the Great Hall first, seeing that there were still a few students grabbing dinner. However, when they fail to see either you or Draco, they leave and try out the courtyard. Much to their disappointment, they had the same results. They even tried going to Snape’s room, thinking that you might’ve gone to talk to him about the assignment. Still no luck.

Blaise releases a grunt out of frustration, as the group continues to walk around aimlessly. 

“Have you thought, just possibly, that they’d be in the bloody library!?” He scolds them as he presses his fingers to his temples. The dull pain that was surging from the sides of his head puts him in a pissier mood. 

“This is why we need you, Blaise.” Theo gave a firm pat on Blaise’s back, followed by pats from both Daphne and Pansy. The boy sighs exasperatingly before trailing behind them.

By the time they arrive at the library, the group splits in order to cover more ground. Blaise, having enough of their antics, decides to aimlessly walk through the shelves for his own peace of mind. He enjoys it for a while, until he hears the voice of a particular platinum blonde. He stops for a moment, mentally celebrating his victory, and turns to find the location of the source. Peering through the shelves, he takes sight of Draco smiling with a book in hand.

“You seem to have forgotten my height in comparison to yours.” He hears him say. He glances at the beaming expression in the boy’s eyes. Suddenly, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo appear beside him.

In a hushed whisper Daphne speaks out, “What are you looking- oh!” Her exclamation draws the attention of the other two as Blaise raises a finger to his lips to shush them. The group obeys, and watches the scene unfold quietly.

“Give it here you git. I found it first.” Pansy and Daphne squeal at the sight of you jumping for the book.

“Draco, Draco, Draco--this boy knows what he’s doing.” Theo snickers under his breath. Their eyes widen at the scene that follows next.

“Draco!” They observe as you push off from his shoulders, successfully retrieving the book from him. What surprised them was the way Draco pulled you close to keep you from falling. Moreover, how the both of you stayed in that position for several minutes before stepping away.

Pansy mutters, “I feel like I just interrupted something.” She turns her head to see Daphne biting her knuckle in an attempt to refrain from squealing even more.

“I’m sorry Astoria.” Pansy nudges Daphne’s side before snickering herself. The group retreats back to the common room, leaving you and Draco alone. However, once they arrived, they were met with red-eyed Astoria, who began to question their whereabouts.

“I leave the room for five minutes only to find that you guys were gone when I come back. Where have you been?” The two girls kept silent and looked at the younger with pitiful eyes. She hated being pitied.

“Stop looking at me like that, and spill!” Her voice increased in volume as she demanded for answers. Blaise steps to the front and holds her shoulders.

“Astoria, you need to calm yourself down first. Breath.” The girl looks up at the boy, his voice calming her senses.

“Are you calm?” He asks. She responds with a silent nod, uncertain about what she was about to find out. Blaise led her to the couch, followed by the other three. He looked into her eyes with hands planted on her shoulders.

“We saw Draco with Y/N earlier. He looked really happy.” The prideful girl felt her heart drop at the sound of the news. Certainly that can’t mean anything right? Surely she had a chance...right? She kept silent as thoughts roamed in her mind for several minutes. However, her internal ramblings were interrupted by the sound of the dungeons opening. The group turned their heads towards the entrance revealing a pleased-looking Draco. He was seen carrying several rolls of parchment under one arm and his bag held in the opposing hand. Accompanying him from behind was you. There was a smile plastered on your face as you looked towards the boy. He returned the smile as well as the rolls that the group concluded to belong to you. Out of disappointment and frustration, Astoria violently shrugs Blaise’s hands off her shoulders and stands from her seat.

“Y/L/N!” She yells. The sudden outburst catches you off guard. You stop in your steps as you see her approaching you with an angry look on her face.

“May I hel-”

“You bet you can,” Astoria’s hands come into contact with your shoulders, throwing your balance off slightly. You give her a shocked expression, but before you can say anything she cuts you off.

“Keep that nose of yours buried in your books where it belongs. You think you have a chance with Draco? Make me laugh!” You feel your heart crack slightly at the sound of her words. Not knowing what to expect, you keep your feet planted and stand your ground.

“Look at you! Disheveled,” She pokes at your hair.

“Nerdy!” She gestures towards the rolls of parchment in your arms.

“Poor!” Your eyes widened at her derogatory statement. 

“Your only redeeming quality is the fact that you’re a pureblood. Albeit a lowly one at that!” Draco and his friend group look at the scene progress with shock-filled eyes. Never in their lives would they have thought that Astoria would say such harsh words. By the time she was done with her rant, the younger Greengrass was huffing, her eyebrows furrowed, and shoulders tense. 

You wanted to cry. You bit your quivering lip in response to her hurtful words. How dare she? Within those couple seconds she had jabbed at everything you worked hard for--all out of the need to feel superior. The image of your mother crossed your mind. You recalled her secret tears, her efforts to shield you away from the hardships you faced. You recalled how hard she worked to provide your every need, furthermore how hard she worked to open the book shop--not only for a means of living, but for your peace of mind as well. Suddenly, a pit of anger blossomed from your gut. With your lips still quivering you scoff, breaking the silence that lingered since her outlash. It catches the attention of the others surrounding you.

You placed your belongings on the floor, before looking her straight in the eyes.

“Does it make you feel better when you attempt to make me feel insecure?” You take a step forward.

“You ask if I think I have a chance with Draco?” You mock her words, while scanning her figure from top to bottom.

“Last time I checked, Greengrass, my life didn’t revolve around him!” Your voice began to grow in hostility.

“Every single thing that you look down upon are the very reasons why I’m in Slytherin in the first place!” Your voice seethed with venom. In fact, the very statement elicited shivers down everyone’s spine. There was a familiar fire that burned in your eyes--one that Draco had grown too fond of. He rooted himself to his spot, watching you in awe.

“Your words hurt, they do. Do you think I wanted to be born poor? Do you think I’m nerdy because I want to be fucking nerdy!?” At that moment, Astoria knew she struck a note--a strong one at that. Her confidence began to shrink as you stepped closer.

“Bash on my appearance all you want, Greengrass, but if you dare try to degrade me for things you know nothing of - all for the sake of your damn crush,” You stood right in front of her now, eyes piercing through hers. With a tone full of resolution you continue your statement, “Then I suggest you stay out of my way. Your jealousy is a waste of my time.” You bump her shoulder harshly before turning back to collect your belongings and make your way to your dorm. Before you proceed, you look back at Draco to see that he’s looking at you with much concern.

“I’ll be fine.” You mouthed, before continuing your way. 

Astoria was left standing there with shock of your retaliation. The feeling of regret pools in her stomach as she feels a hand on her shoulder. It’s Daphne’s. Her sister gives a strained smile as she pulls her away. The older sibling turns to Draco with an apologetic smile plastered on her face.

“You should check on Y/N. We’ll take care of Astoria.” The boy breaks from his daze and nods before dashing through the halls. Once he arrives in front of your door he presses his ear against it. Silent sobs can be heard from the other side. He softly knocks.

“Y/N? It’s Draco.” He hears her cease her cries. After a couple of moments, the door opens revealing your puffy-eyed self. You couldn’t bear to look up at him, so you keep your gaze stuck to the floor. The sight of you looking emotionally weak breaks Draco’s heart. You were always the one to hold a strong stance. A frown finds its way to his lips as he presses your head to his chest. He walks into your room and locks the door behind him all while keeping you within his embrace.

“That was so humiliating.” You croak out as tears stream down your cheeks. Your hands clench the fabric of his uniform as your face remains buried into his chest. The boy finds himself at a loss for words. As he thinks of ways to make you feel better, he suddenly remembers the way you had cleaned him up when you found him so helpless. 

“Let me take care of you?” He whispered softly into your ear. There was much sincerity and concern laced in his voice. In a short span of time, you had managed to make him feel safe, accepted, and welcomed to a sense of warmth that he has never received before. It felt safe for him to feel vulnerable around you. Seeing the way you handled the situation tonight, he felt the compelling need to do the same.

The sobs that you choked out ceased slightly as you nod in response. At the sight of this, he reaches for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours as he leads you to the bathroom. You seat yourself on the stool situated in front of the sink, head faced down. Draco takes a fresh face towel and wets it. 

“Look at me.” You hesitantly lift your face meeting his concerned gaze. He reaches out and caresses your cheek to wipe the tear that strayed from your eyes.  He then proceeds to wipe your face. You close your eyes to relish the cool dampness of the cloth, letting out breathy sighs in relief. Your heart beats faster at the thought of you being on the receiving end of Draco’s care. At the end of the task, the boy caresses your face through the towel. You look up into his eyes with a frown.

Noticing that your hair was still up, Draco pulled the elastic and grabbed the brush that laid on top of the counter. 

“Turn around.” You follow as he says and meet both your reflections in the mirror. You stared at him, taking in the details of his facial features. He put on a focused expression as he began brushing your hair. His touch was soft and delicate, not wanting to run through tangles forcibly and put you at a risk for discomfort. The soft tugs at your roots felt soothing, inducing your eyes to droop. Draco notices and chuckles softly.

“Don’t you dare sleep on me again, Y/N.” Your eyes immediately fly open.

“It feels good.” You admit quietly. You meet his gaze through the reflection and let out a small smile.

The tugging feeling on his heartstrings prompts him to lean down an whisper in your ear, “Y/N, you’re beautiful I hope you know.” His words cause a surge of heat to rise throughout your body and you can’t help but smile wider. Draco turns the stool, so you’re facing him once again.

“I also like that you’re intelligent--in more ways than one might I add.” He says as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. You chuckled. 

Out of impulse, Draco leans down once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Despite your erratic heart beats, you respond to his gesture by wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling yourself into him. He copies your actions while running his fingers through your hair. Everything feels like bliss. 

“I hope you don’t actually believe what she says.” He says as you both remain in the same position.

“About what?”

“That you don’t have a chance with me.” 

“I can see why she’d say that...especially with you and your fami-” He interrupts your sentence. 

“Y/N, I like you,” Your eyes widened.

“I like you regardless of my family or your status.” You pulled away to look at him. You can see him cleaning up, and putting things back in their original places. He kept a neutral expression, but when his gaze passes yours, he raises his eyebrows as he usually does before breaking into a small smile. Just before you catch yourself swooning, he pulls on your wrist.

“You don’t need to give me an answer right now. I just wanted to let you know. Let’s get you dressed.” The boy makes you sit on the edge of your bed while you direct his way through your closet. He pulls out a pair of black sweats and a black jumper and hands it to you.

“Go ahead. I’ll turn around.” You proceed to changing into the clothes that he gave to you. Once you finished you sat yourself on the bed once again, and called out to him. He took a seat by your side. There was an oddly comfortable atmosphere between the both of you. You turn to him to see a serious expression painted on his facial features. The boy looks straight ahead with his hands clasped on his lap. You reach out to grab one and hold it. 

“What’s on your mind?” You ask weakly. He stares at your hand in his. His lack of words causes you to speak up.

“I’m sorry. I get touchy when I’m at my lows. My mother would hold my hand like this.” He remains silent, only gripping your hand in response.

“Don’t apologize. I said I’d look out for you as you have for me.” He turned to look at you and sighed. The sight of your tired expression induces a tight feeling in his chest. The way you stood your ground, the way you defended yourself, the way you held everything in until you were alone--all these things made him contemplate on his actions before he had met you. He’d vividly recall the moments he’d pick on others to feel that sense of superiority that Astoria had tried to feel. He remembered the way he had celebrated in the eyes of his victim’s defeat. But, when he saw you in the line of fire, the feeling of foolishness and regret filled him. 

“Are you tired?” He asked.

You nodded your head in response, getting comfortable with the feel of his hand wrapped around yours. 

“I can go. You should get your rest.” Before he stood to get up, you gripped his hand harder. You craved for the peace he provided. 

“Stay. Please.” His eyes soften at your plea.

“I’ll be back then.” You nod in response while Draco momentarily leaves the room. You sit within the silence as your mind combs over the events that occurred that night. Never in your life did you have to worry about the way someone thought of you--let alone your financial status at home. You had always been one to be independent with your mother as inspiration to make it through. You didn’t mind isolating yourself in your study, because at the end of the week you’d be able to go back home and unwind--something not many students get to do. The feeling of suddenly being placed under scrutiny felt uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and uncertain. 

You break out of your thoughts at the sound of your door opening. Draco peers from the outside before entering and resumes his spot next to you. He was dressed in an outfit similar to yours, except his sweatpants were grey. 

“You got something running around that mind of yours. What is it?” He says.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I mean tonight was already chaotic as it is. You’re not typically placed in the spotlight like that, and you standing up to Astoria took a lot of energy from you. I wouldn’t blame you if you had any lingering thoughts.” He said calmly. He laid out his palm on the surface of your bed sheets.

“It’s there for you to hold if you want it.” He mutters. You look at him with eyes glossed over. You didn’t need to say much, nevertheless he somehow knew what to do. You reached out and grabbed it, allowing yourself to sit much closer to him.

Suddenly, a curious thought flew over the boy’s head, “Does your mother usually read to you in moments like this?” It caught you off guard, but in a good way.

“You’re a smart one aren’t you?” You say teasingly.  He smirks slightly.

“You know, I don’t fall far behind you in ranking.” He turned his head to look straight into your eyes. Time seemed to stop as you stared into his softened blue hues, tuning out the situation that occurred. Hearts palpitated, minds raced, but one glance towards your lips from him was all it took for you to slowly reach up and caress his cheek. The shortening of the distance made Draco’s breath hitch as he came to full realization of what’s going on. 

In response to your actions, he leans in closing the distance between you both. The sensation of fireworks erupted in your chest as you felt his lips slightly brush yours. The kiss was soft and short, but all the more reassuring. It evoked feelings of acceptance, appreciation, promises, and safety that both had felt for one another. It conveyed the unspoken love that neither one of you acknowledged, but had already felt in the little time you spent together. Needless to say, the worries that previously occupied you dissipated at the feel of his lips.

Your heart was racing as you pulled away. Your eyes, which have been closed, open to find him looking into yours once again. Without much hesitation, Draco leaned in for another kiss--this time grabbing your shoulders and pushing you down gently, so that your back was pressed against the bed. Lips moved in sync slowly as he carefully laid his body against your own. His fingers brush your hair away from your face before dancing over your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck to feel him closer. He broke away only to plant kisses all over your face--your eyelids, cheeks, temples, nose. All followed by more lingering ones pressed against your jaw, which soon trailed down your neck. You couldn’t resist him.

“Draco,” The boy melted at the sound of his name. He lifted himself from your neck to look at you. Your eyes were filled with adoration while a smile graced your lips.

“I think now is a good enough time as ever to let you know I like you too.” You both chuckled into the night.

“I didn’t think it would be obvious.” He sarcastically says, before leaning back down once again to kiss you one last time. He laid beside you with his arm draped over your waist, pulling you closer to his body, flushed against his chest. The warm sensation that you felt before was overwhelming now. 

“Thank you for being here and for staying.” You say softly. You feel his fingers brush through your hair. Sleep beginning to overtake you both.

“Anytime.”

A/N: Thank you for making it this far! I apologize for the long wait, but I hope this was suffices :D I hope you have a wonderful day!

Just a couple tags <3:

@fadesbrina @redheaded-hobbit @ccabian @rottenhexrt @beiahadid @ceeellewrites @xoxohollands @mxlfoy-recs @thatguppienamedbae @swiftlymoniquesblog @karamelssunflowers @phxntxmx @mushi98 @hahee154hq​

[rose7420]

Best of Friends

Summary: Loki becomes curious about the whereabouts of a certain tiny Avenger reader. Lots of fluff and some angst

I know I have requests to do but I had this idea and had to make it come to life, Enjoy my friends!

Loki walked into the kitchen of the Avengers Tower. The smooth white counter shone with impeccable cleanliness. He had been here for about two and a half weeks now and had barely spoken to anyone. He was very lonely but took no offense to the shunning of the superheroes. During his attack in 2012, he knew he had caused a lot of pain and loss. He had sat in his jail cell on Asgard contemplating his actions, regretting many of them. Finally, after two miserable years that held the loss of his mother, Odin had thought it a brilliant idea to come back to the very planet he had nearly destroyed and ask that he live with the very people he had fought violently against.

He reached the cabinet that held snacks of various sorts, ones he usually stuck his nose up to, and opened it to find disappointment once again. All junk. Releasing a deep aggravated breath he went to the refrigerator. Cold air grazed his face as he opened the door and found nothing there either. He turned to the counter and searched for the basket of fruit that usually was placed there. Holding red apples, bananas, and oranges the colors made an ugly mix. He reached for an apple and shined it on his shirt. Taking a bite out of it then swallowing, he relished the feeling of having food in his stomach. Those awful times he spent in the cell, the guards would often forget to give him his meals, he winces at the awful memory of a truly empty stomach.

His attention is drawn down to a small object near the bowl. He plucks it up and inspects it to realize it is a minuscule black boot. His inspection is halted from the sound of footsteps belonging to the Black Widow who enters the kitchen, most likely for another cup of coffee. She nods her head in greeting and continues her process of making the warm drink. Although distant to him, Natasha holds no menace in her gaze when she looks upon him almost as if she understood the predicament he was in while terrorizing New York. She takes a sip of her freshly brewed coffee and turns around to look at him when she notices the tiny object pinched in his fingertips.

“That’s Y/N’s.” She says motioning with her head towards the tiny boot as if finding a tiny shoe is a normal occurrence.

Loki is astonished that someone could even wear this boot, it wouldn't be able to even slide onto his pinky finger.

“Who is this Y/N?” He asks curiously.

“She’s like us, goes on missions, fights the bad guys but just in a more secretive way. Maybe she’ll come out for you to see her one day, doesn't like the attention from us big guys much often.” Natasha says taking another sip.

“What do you mean by “big guys” agent?”He asks although he thinks he knows the answer already.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Just leave the boot on the counter she’ll come back for it. Don’t bother keeping watch for her to come to get it, she’ll find a way to get past your sights.” She says walking out the door holding her cup. Loki is astonished to know that there is a tiny person living here with him, and he hadn’t even known. Not to mention that she goes on missions. He aches to find out more about this tiny being, but he will heed Natasha’s advice and not go searching for her. Something tells him that this little person is skilled enough to evade even the Trickster’s awareness.

True to Natasha’s word: The little boot was gone by the next morning

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Two days later, Loki sits at a table in the grand library of Tony Stark’s. Books cover the walls and reach up to the tall ceiling. Before Loki had started occupying this space he had figured no one had used this library in years from the heavy coat of dust that had lied on every inch of the room. What a shame to waste such knowledge. Books were splayed out in front of Loki of all he could find on “tiny people”. He had read over the term "borrower" and "fairy" many times already. Perhaps this tiny being had been a borrower and gotten caught. His curiosity was practically burning holes in him. A faint huff and oomph draw his attention, his gaze leaving the printed paper. His emerald eyes go wide when a positively tiny person drags themselves upon the surface of the wooden table. They appear to stand at only a grand two and a half inches tall carrying a piece of paper fit to their size along with a pen.

“Whatcha starin’ at big boy?” The tiny girl asks Loki fearlessly.

Loki snaps his jaw up to close his wide-open mouth. He, for the first time in a while, is at a loss for words.

“You’re a talkative one, eh?” Heavens be, this little being is full of sass.

“My apologies, my name is Loki. I presume you to be Y/N?” Loki finally says.

“You would be correct Loki. So you like to read. Huh?” Y/N walks up to the books splayed open and smiles widely at the title, “All You Need to Know About Borrowers”

“Little people, yeah? Well, I hate to break it to ya, but I ain’t no borrower or fairy. Wasn’t born like this if that helps any at all.” Loki blushes when she reads the title but listens intently to what she’s saying. She wasn’t born like this, as she shrunk? He wisely chooses not to ask her that question.

“May I ask why you are here?” Loki says, inquisitive to how could she attempt to read these books that are five times her size.

Y/N holds up the little slip of paper she carries and shows it to him.

“Stark takes the books I want and shrinks them down to my size so they’re a bit more manageable. Ain’t much to do for a gal like me other than to read and eat.” She says with a hint of humor in her voice. She doesn’t seem affected by her situation; embracing it rather than hating it. An idea pops into Loki’s head.

“Perhaps I could shrink it for you? Less hassle than having to wait for Stark.” Loki offers.

“That's right you’re that wizard dude, gotta lot of magic tricks huh?”

Loki laughs and he watches her eyes lit up with excitement as she hands the paper to him after scribbling another title onto it.

“Are you sure you can read my writing? It’s awfully small for your eyes.” And indeed the print is. The paper slip barely covers the pad of his fingertip.

“No worries about that,” Loki reassures her. He grows the paper to his size and goes to retrieve the books written down. He sets them down lightly on the table, watching as Y/N stumbles from the heavy load of them all. He apologizes but she waves him off.

“Are these the right ones?” He asks to make sure.

She strides towards the novels and looks them over from the spines that show, and nods with affirmation. He shrinks them to her size, watching as she bends down to gather them in her arms. They cause significant distress in her tiny arms so he offers his assistance.

He watches her pause with concern. After a few moments, she accepts and places the now-tiny books into the palm of his hand, watching as they slide towards the natural dip his palm creates.

“Would you like me to carry you?” He asks imagining the trip to be longer for her than it is for himself.

“O-oh n-no! I’ll be fine, if you don’t mind you could just follow me?” Her voice is high-pitched with obvious anxiety. He agrees and assures her there is no problem, watching her movements with fascination when she scales down the table leg.

The trip to her room is long, one step of his equalling ten of hers. Not to mention his trepidation of stepping too close, and accidentally hurting her. He also notices how every footstep of his causes her to stumble minutely. After about twenty minutes they arrive at her door. Which is normal-sized and puzzles him until he notices the tiny door situated in the middle. She steps in through her door then calls out to him that he can come in. He does so opening the normal-sized door and steps into her room. He searches for her form, whipping his head around at the non-furnished room until he comes across a dollhouse that sits on the floor. She walks across the floor and motions for him to come nearer.

“Could you uh, put the house on the desk? So it’s easier for you to see.”

He nods and sets the books he has in his hands down on the table. Standing what feels like a hundred feet over a dollhouse no bigger than a medium-sized box he truly feels like a giant. He picks the house up and sets it up on the desk. Ready to offer a hand for Y/N on the floor, he is surprised to not see her there anymore. Instead, he hears a voice call his name from the desk.

“Thank ya for helping me out, I really appreciate the books!” She says.

Noticing the awe on his face from the miniaturized objects she explains: “Stark shrinks everything for me, that’s how I get by. Got everything I need in here so I never gotta come out unless I need more groceries.”

Loki assumed that a life like that could get very lonely, but he said nothing as he had before. He only kneeled to be level with her carrying on a conversation that actually held his interest.

Soon after that day Y/N and Loki started hanging around each other much more often. Finding themselves in the library together, watching a movie of the book they had both read, or simply eating together. Her small stature proved to be no hindrance in their friendship, other than Y/N purposely avoiding his hands. One night as they sat down in Loki’s room (since Loki couldn't fit in Y/N’s) ready to watch a movie on the television that Y/N had practically begged Loki to put in his quarters. She sat on the arm of the deep green couch he had placed in his room, looking a tad uncomfy. She munched on a shrunken-down bag of Goldfish. Earlier, while in the kitchen she had dragged the towering bag towards him with pleading eyes. She perched on the cushion every time they watched films together but this time she looked lonesome there all by herself. With gentleness in his voice, he asked Y/N casually if she would like to sit upon his shoulder.

Y/N’s posture became rigid. But surprisingly she agreed. He figured she would start scaling his shoulder but she waited as if expecting something.

His hand.

He realized it when her eyes flickered towards the one closest to her so he obliged. Slowly as if approaching a scared kitten his hand unfolded to display flattened fingers that she could step easily onto. She stood up slowly and neared his index finger. Her impossibly tiny hand on his digit made him twitch minutely. He cursed himself inwardly for such actions that he could not control. She sat in the dip of his palm weighing nothing more than a feather, and his breath caught in his throat at her fragility. He lifted his hand slowly to his right shoulder and waited patiently for her to dismount onto the broad platform. Tiny grunts of effort reached his ear as she situated herself nearer to his neck, her movements raising goosebumps on his skin. The small noises stopped as she finally found a comfortable spot.

“Are you comfortable?” Loki asked, making sure to keep his voice low.

“Y-yeah, I’ve never been on a shoulder before. You’re really warm.” Her voice was very clear and easy to hear when she was right next to his ear. Perhaps he should do this more often. Loki smiled at her comment, happy to provide comfort for his tiny friend.

Y/N and Loki had criticized the characters and plot the whole way through the film. Well maybe halfway for Y/N as she had fallen asleep upon his shoulder. Little breaths and snores escaped her mouth bringing a smile to Loki’s lips. Gently he brought her down from his shoulder into his cupped palms, trying to not wake her. Her little frame was dwarfed by the immensity of his hands. Despite the big-boss attitude she brought he was reminded of her delicateness. He walked to her room with a careful gait and came upon her house. There was no way his entire hand could fit through the door, and he wasn’t going to leave her there on the floor. So he turned around and headed to his own room once again.

Perhaps on a pillow, she would be comfortable, but he worried she’d become cold as she had mentioned before how sensitive she was to the elements. Out of pure instinct because it was a rather warm and soft place he placed her upon his chest. As he did so he realized how much his breathing could affect her and immediately tried to restrict his chest from rising and falling. That caused his heart to beat even harder and faster thumping rapidly under Y/N’s body causing her to slightly move. Eventually, he found a normal rhythm in both patterns of his normal body functions and drifted to sleep.

Y/N awoke to an unfamiliar but comforting rocking and thumping sensation. Blinking her eyes open tiredly she looked at the undulating expanse of black cotton fabric that surrounded her. Her gaze snapped up to Loki’s face. He slept soundly, not disturbed by her awakening. The puffs of air from the exhale he released faintly blew her face. How did he not have morning breath? She wondered how she had gotten up here on his chest, or even in his bed. She remembered falling asleep on his shoulder but couldn't he have woken her or set her in her bed in her house? Then she realized: His hand was probably too big and Loki cared much for her sleeping schedule, and he would feel guilty if he had awoken her from slumber. Loki soon awoke and greeted Y/N with a sleepy smile. He said nothing about the sleeping situation. In the nights to come, Y/N would find her bed less comfortable than Loki’s chest, his hand atop her warmer than her fluffiest blanket. An odd comfort, yet, soothing in its gentility and peacefulness.

Y/N had rarely been outside. With a grand height of two and a half inches, the world outside was a much more dangerous place than here in the tower. But with Loki, perhaps she could change that…

“Hey Loki,” Y/N climbs onto the book he currently reads, leaving little footprints of dust behind from her dirty boots. Loki notices this and pinches her waist lifting her so he can close the book allowing her to stand on the cover.

“Yes, little Y/N?” Loki has taken a liking to the nickname and to his surprise, Y/N hasn’t commented on it either.

“Do ya think we could maybe go outside on a walk or something?” She asks with nerves in her voice, she doesn’t want her request to be rejected.

“I see no problem with that as long as you stay on my person the entire time. You can even sit on my shoulder, I’ll be able to cast an illusion to make you unseen to others’ eyes.”

Y/N beams and her mood is immediately uplifted, all anxiety gone.

“Oh my goodness yes! Let me go get my sunglasses and my sandals. Oh!” Y/N keeps naming off things as she sprints back to her room excitement in every step.

Loki laughs loudly at her rambling, a blush rising to his cheeks.

The sun warms Y/N’s body as she perches on Loki’s shoulder, true to his word, no one spies the two-inch girl. Loki’s gait rocks her with every step and she clings to his shirt collar for support. The sky is blue with a gentle breeze in the air cooling the warmness around them. Loki wears his black hair in a low bun; before they had walked outside he insisted on wearing it up, worried the dark strands would get in Y/N’s way. They enjoy each other’s company in a comfortable silence until Loki asks her if she likes ice cream. It had been a while since she had tasted the delicacy and sweetness of the cold treat. After her run-in with the whole shrinking episode, she had been on her own for quite a bit. Scavenging for food when it came, she was not picky in the slightest. Ice cream was a dessert she came by not too often.

“What is your favorite flavor?” She asks Loki before they walk into the small shop.

Loki ponders for a moment wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue.

“I like vanilla.” He states, making Y/N turn towards him with astonishment.

“Vanilla! That’s like the plainest one yet! Come on, you gotta have a better one than that.” She exclaims.

Ignoring her disagreement with his choice, he asks: “What is your favorite?”

“Oh definitely, one hundred percent cotton candy.” She says without missing a beat.

“That’s terribly sweet don’t you think? I believe vanilla is the better choice here.”

“Hey! I like my choice very much, thank you!” She laughs lightly hitting his jaw, watching as his face lifts with a smile from their playful banter. The rest of the day played out nicely after they had both eaten their ice creams. Loki offered to shrink Y/N’s but she insisted she’d rather have more to eat. He had laughed a full belly laugh when she ended up falling into the mound of ice cream herself. He had used his magic to clean her up.

The next day Loki found out that Y/N and he were put on a mission together. Infiltrate an enemy base to get valuable information. Easy enough he thought. He was wrong. Turns out keeping an eye on a tiny person is harder than it sounds.

Halfway into the mission, Y/N’s voice went quiet on his headset. She had been tasked with exploring the vents for easier access to the archive room where the records they needed were kept. He had no way to physically reach her, because of his size. The best he could hope for was her voice to sound in his ear again through the headset. Anxiety pumped through him, his mind coming up with terrible scenarios that could’ve happened already. He tried to keep a clear head, focusing on the task at hand. He made it to a doorway held guard with two men carrying heavy guns. He simply illusioned himself as another soldier, using the keycard he had swiped off the soldier he was illusioned as of now. Making it into the security room he checked the cameras for any sign of Y/N. To his horror, he saw that they also had cameras in the air vents. Where Y/N had been previously.

He exited the room in a calm fashion while panicking immensely on the outside. Running his hands through his hair, he paced back and forth. He usually kept a clear head in stressful situations, but the thought of losing Y/N made him sick with worry and terror. That’s when he felt a weight hit his boot. He immediately looked down and saw Y/N’s panting, exhausted form sprawled out on the toe of his shoe. He knelt quickly scooping her up, bringing her to his eye level. She rolled over to meet his gaze.

“Are you alright, what happened? You worried me sick?” Loki blurted.

She held up a rectangular box showing it to Loki. The flash drive.

“Got it. But we gotta move, there are cameras in those vents, and I’m pretty positive they caught sight of a certain tiny person.”

Loki groaned with aggravation but was relieved to have his tiny friend back in his grasp.

He dropped Y/N into his pocket gently, he had asked that most of his clothes come with pockets from now on to hold Y/N safely with him.

“Remind me to never let you out of my sight again.” Loki jokes.

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

That night after hot showers and a good meal Loki and Y/N were ready to go to sleep. Y/N laid peacefully on Loki’s chest, rising with his every breath. Loki lay down with a hand over his eyes. But a certain nagging question still held his mind from sleep.

“Y/N, how did you get to be…” He can't finish the last word, worried he’ll bring up unwanted emotions and memories.

“How’d I get so small?” Y/N finishes for him.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” He reminds with a gentle fingertip rubbing circles onto her back.

“No, no...I need to tell someone. I’ve been keeping it under lock and key but I trust you Lokesters.”

He smiled at the new nickname she had given him watching as she turned towards him, sitting criss-cross. He propped his head with his hands to see her clearly.

“I didn’t have the best parents out there. They struggled with bills, because they were too worried about getting their drugs, So one night when I was ten years old they took me to a restaurant. We never went to restaurants, kind of a fancy thing for me you know? I was excited and had gotten my favorite blue dress on to go. I started to realize they had lied to me when we passed the restaurant and kept driving. They took me to a HYDRA base, but I didn't know that at the time, all because they wanted money. So they gave me up for experiments and left me for their high.”

Y/N took a deep breath to stop the tears from coming and continued.

“The scientists or whatever strapped me down to a table and stuck me with this needle. Well, I guess you know what happened and they kept me for three years in a cage with all types of different tests to measure my strengths. They were tortuous, so I had to escape and I did. But when I was about thirteen and a half I was able to sneak away. I lived in boxes on the streets, outside under rocks, trying to scavenge by. Even met a couple borrowers like you were reading bout’. They were awfully nice fellows but were barely getting by themselves so I couldn’t take off of them. But one day I was stealing or whatever you wanna call it and got caught by no other than Nick Fury himself. Told me he needed little guys like myself and offered me a place to stay, food to eat, and a job of my own. So I took it and here I am.”

Loki was astonished by the strength of this small girl, how she’d survived through such hardships and still had a good heart and kind soul. He hugged her closer to his chest, careful not to smother her.

“Well little one, you got me now and I'm not going anywhere.”

Y/N popped her head out from his grasp and eyed with scrutiny.

“Even for the Tesseract?” She asked.

Loki laughed and hugged her again, watching as she embraced him as well.

“Even for the Tesseract.”

———————————————————————

Please reblog if you liked it! Lots of love ❤️

[blossom-hwa]

Light the Pyres |Strike| - SUNGYOON

Based off the Burn It mv? Yeah I know it was like five months ago but whatever. Writing this honestly hurt me so I’m sorry if you’re reading it <3

(But no, really. This is a heavier and bloodier story. If this isn’t for you, please don’t read!)

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, death, side character commits suicide (no mention of suicidal thoughts though), semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 3.8k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Strike >> Next: Light

Golden Child Masterlist

“It’s insane, isn’t it?” You pace around your dorm. “I can’t believe it went so wrong. Not to say that I ever agreed with the testing in the first place, but –”

“I know.” Your mother sighs into the phone. “Anyone would’ve thought such a project would be handled carefully, no? It’s a miracle anyone survived at all.”

You sit on the edge of your bed. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” you say. “When I heard the shaking could be felt even from home…”

She laughs, soft and gentle in a way that sends a pleasant warmth tickling down your spine. God, you love hearing your mother’s laugh. “I’m fine, Y/N.” You can almost hear the smile in her voice. “I appreciate you checking in on me, but I’m perfectly fine. We had a few tremors, that’s all. No one is hurt.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” You smile. “I have to go to class now, but stay safe, okay? I’ll see you this winter break, I promise.”

“I’m counting the days, darling. I love you and miss you.”

“Same here, Mom.”

You press your head against the car window as Daeyeol speeds down the empty highway. It’s been months since that call, months since the test bomb failed, mutating the few who survived into flesh-eating shades of their human selves.

Of course, no one knew it then. The survivors were rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment and when they first woke up, there were no signs of abnormality besides some slightly shrunken pupils.

Then veins blackened, skin paled, and they attacked.

One infected hospital turned into an entire city. The few who managed to escape tried to spread the news, but no one believed them. Only a couple of the smallest news outlets, looking for a good scoop, related the stories of the shaking survivors of what they called a zombie apocalypse. Unbelievable, right?

Not so much when one zombie made its way into an otherwise healthy city and began biting people in full daylight.

Only a few states away, your mother was living her life when the government imposed a strict lockdown. No one was to leave their home. Certain stores would be open on certain days, and blocks would be allowed to shop at certain times. Otherwise, stay at home and do not go outside.

She called you that day and every day after until communications shut off. On the other side of the country, you panicked when your calls stopped going through, when your texts only rebounded with an “unable to send – try again” message that made you want to smash your phone against the ground.

Until several days later, in the middle of a class no one was paying attention to, she picked up.

Your professor doesn’t even blink an eye as you run out of the room, already halfway to tears. “Oh my God, Mom –”

“Darling, we don’t have time.” You can hear the cracks in her voice. “So many cities nearby have been overrun already, and we can’t use internet or even power anymore because we need to conserve. I don’t know how your call managed to go through.”

“I thought you were dead.” You slide to the floor, back pressed against the wall as you try hard not to cry. “Mom, I –”

“No, I’m alive.” She laughs, but there’s a frightened edge to it that you’ve never heard before. It feels like being doused with cold water, horrible – your mother, the woman who raised you so fearlessly in the wake of her husband’s death, is scared.

You can barely comprehend it.

“I’m alive, Y/N.” A tiny sniffle on the other end. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. I always will.”

“I love you too, Mom.” A tear trickles down your face. “I love you. I’m going to come for you, okay? I’ll come. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come for you.”

No reply. You look down at your phone, only to realize the call’s disconnected with no way for you to know how much your mother heard of your last words.

You haven’t been able to call her since, not with her power completely cut off and your university going on lockdown just a couple of weeks later. But it doesn’t matter. When rumors that a wave of flesh-eating non-humans was going to hit your city soon, you rented a car with Daeyeol and set off for home, driving in a direction from where no zombies had come.

You’re pretty sure the rental owner knew you had no intention of returning the car, judging from the thin press of his lips as you handed over your card. He softened, though, when you slid into the driver’s seat. “Good luck,” he’d said.

That bit of luck seems to have paid off. After weeks of alternately walking and driving, weeks of crippling paranoia and sudden attacks, neither you nor Daeyeol has been bitten. You might be dehydrated, half-starved, and ready to collapse at any given moment, but at least you have no shrunken pupils, no blackened veins, and no hunger for flesh.

Daeyeol’s voice cuts through the car tires jostling on the road. “All right?”

“Mm.” You nod slightly, head still pressed against the window. A tiny smirk widens your cracked lips. “Still alive.”

It’s morbid. So many people you know or knew have died, probably more than you realize, so it maybe isn’t the best move to joke about being alive. But it makes Daeyeol smile, even if it’s more of a smirk than a real smile, and after everything that’s happened, you both need a reason to laugh every so often.

“Same here,” he says, words cracking slightly with disuse. His voice used to be smooth, sweet with his singer’s tones, but it’s all faded over days and weeks of silence.

Don’t exactly want to attract a horde of zombies for the sake of a bit of song.

His voice breaks you out of depressing thoughts again. “Get some sleep,” he says, glancing over. “We’ll stop at sundown.”

“Cool.” You stretch slightly, yawning. “I guess I’ll drive through the night?”

“If we don’t break down by then.” As if on cue, the motor sputters, nearly launching you forward, but thankfully, the car doesn’t stop just yet. Daeyeol sighs. “Halfway there,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Halfway there,” you echo as another faded highway sign flashes past. After nearly two months of travel, you’re over halfway home.

You let that thought comfort you into an uneasy sleep.

. . . . .

“Shit.”

You wake up to Daeyeol’s curse and the sputtering sound of the engine. He’s gone off the highway since you fell asleep, now trying to start the choking car on a street in what looks like it used to be a city. As you blink the sleep out of your eyes, he presses down on the accelerator, hard. The car jerks forward for a second, then stops.

Daeyeol groans. “We didn’t even make it to sundown.”

Sure enough, the sun still hasn’t fallen. From the beat up watch on your wrist, you estimate an hour or so before dark. Probably enough time to try and take a crack at fixing the engine or whatever’s gone wrong with the car.

“I’ll take a look.” You rub your eyes. “See if it’s something I can fix. Stay close, I might need your help.”

After years of growing up beside your mechanic mother, mechanical engineering was a no-brainer when you entered university. Since then, your technical skills have grown a little rusty when it comes to repairing cars (hey, not a lot of people drove around your college town), but in the months after the explosion, you’ve had to relearn those skills fast.

You don’t dare roll up your sleeves, not even in the heat of the afternoon sun and the warmth radiating off the engine. If a zombie comes out of nowhere, your layers are the only chance of surviving a bite. 

Wincing at the memory of your first close call, you start poking around the engine. It isn’t smoking, which is good, but something rattles when you tap at it with a wrench.

Great.

Sweat pours down your face as you fiddle around with the engine. A few bolts are loose – how you didn’t notice when you first took the car, you don’t know – but you tighten them carefully as the sun sinks lower in the sky. “Hopefully that’s it,” you mutter before pulling the hood down. Even in such an empty place, the small thunk makes you flinch, looking around for zombies to come pouring out of nowhere.

Nothing happens. You sigh in relief, plucking the keys from Daeyeol’s hand. “Let’s see if it works.”

It does. After an initial sputtering, the car moves forward. Reflexes keep your mouth shut before you can whoop, but you settle for a satisfied sigh as you beckon Daeyeol into the car, his eyes smiling in a way that’s become rare in the past month.

Then –

A shout.

A bang.

You freeze, one hand on the wheel.

Gunshots.

Daeyeol’s already opening his door, eyes wide with worry as someone screams and the familiar sound of dead groaning fills the air. “Come on,” he says, his tone booking no room for argument. “Let’s go.”

He’s too kind. Too selfless. As you run behind him, pulling out the gun holstered at your own waist, you try to push down the urge to drag him back to the car and just drive away from the growing screams and groans.

But Daeyeol is your best friend, one of your two last anchors to his barren earth. You may not have the same selfless streak that he does, but you’ll follow him into danger and watch his back if it’s the last thing you do.

Someone like Daeyeol deserves that much and more.

Following the noise, you sprint between two buildings, tall and dirty and abandoned. Broken glass crunches under your feet as you turn a corner –

And come face to face with black veins and white faces, pupils shrunken in death.

Whirling away from bloody, grasping hands, you club the first zombie over the head with the butt of your gun. It falls. Bang. Dead. You twist around the mass of stilted limbs and race after Daeyeol, yelling for him to slow down as you run into the fray.

Bang. Bang bang bang. Gunshots lead you into a space between four buildings where the ground opens up to reveal what probably was a subway. A horde of zombies claws at a tall bus stranded in the square, a lone man standing on top.

Him. Your eyes zero in on the tall figure, gun in hand that he aims at the zombies. There are too many, though, even if there don’t seem to be more coming.

Daeyeol scrambles on top of an abandoned car. You quickly follow. The man hasn’t caught sight of you just yet, still focused on avoiding zombies that get too close. There’s only a matter of time before they sense your presence and start chasing you instead.

Think. Think!

“You pick them off,” you gasp. “Pick them off from here.”

He nods. “Watch the back. Help me if I run out.”

You turn around. Back to back, you raise your guns, aim, and begin to fire.

Your gunshots and the allure of more meat turn deadened eyes and bloody mouths your way. Trampling over their shot companions, they lurch over to your car, stumbler closer even as you pick them away.

One. Two. Three. Each of your last thirteen bullets has to make a difference. Gritting your teeth against the smell of rotting flesh that still makes you gag even after so many weeks on the road, you shoot down another zombie that’s gotten too close and lock eyes with the man still standing on the bus roof.

The horde has thinned. The groaning has decreased. Zombies still claw at the roof, but if he jumps far enough and runs fast enough, he’ll make it.

“JUMP!” you scream, another bullet embedding itself into a head caked in dried blood. Three bullets left. “NOW!”

An uncertain glance. Daeyeol shoots away another clawing hand and glares at his still figure. “JUMP!”

He jumps.

Lands.

Pitches onto the ground.

Not far enough.

Zombies lurch forward, rotting arms reaching for the man who’s still scrambling to stand. You want to scream. He isn’t going to make it, all of this was for nothing, you’ve wasted ten bullets – eleven, now, as another tears into a zombie head – on a rescue mission that’s going to fail –

Daeyeol jumps down from the car and fires a last shot that goes haywire before grabbing the man and literally dragging him forward, narrowly missing a lurching zombie.

“DAEYEOL!” You jump from the car, kicking away a clawing hand. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT –”

He begins to turn, helping the man stumble forward. Something’s happened to his leg. Your eyebrows furrow – God, you’re going to have words with Daeyeol about putting himself in unnecessary danger when you all are out of this – as you grab at one of the stranger’s arms, dragging him across the bloody square.

All facing the same direction, none of you notice several leftover zombies creeping up from behind.

Daeyeol yells. His hand releases the stranger’s wrist and you watch in disbelief as skeletal, bloody hands drag him backward.

You scream. Fingers fumble for your gun that still has two rounds left, two rounds, more than enough –

But Daeyeol is already staring in disbelief at the blood seeping through a prominent bite mark on the top of his arm that’s beginning to turn black.

No.

No.

No!

Letting go of the stranger with a shriek, you raise both hands and shoot away the zombie still hanging onto Daeyeol’s shoulder. But you have only one bullet left in your gun and there are several zombies lurching towards you and it doesn’t even matter because Daeyeol’s been bitten, you’ve made it halfway home already and he’s been bitten –

Disbelieving eyes meet yours. Something crumbles in his expression and in his gaze you see everything – pain, horror, care, love, determination, resolve.

“Go,” he chokes, stepping backward directly into the path of the remaining undead. “Go!”

Tears blur your vision. “Daeyeol –”

“TAKE HIM AND GO!”

Dimly, you register a hand closing around your trembling wrist, dragging you back, away from your best friend of over twenty years, away from one of your last anchors to life. Gunshots tear through the air and you blink in time to see two of the zombies fall, Daeyeol gritting his teeth as he pulls the trigger on his gun again. And again.

He locks eyes with you once more. His gaze shines with twenty years of friendship and memories as he steps backward over and over, luring the last zombies away.

His instructions pound through your head. Go. Go. Take him and go.

Take him and go!

Your mind screams to stay but your body turns traitor, latching onto the stranger’s arm and stumbling between buildings, back in the direction of the car. He doesn’t move fast but you drag him along, shoes crunching glass and bricks and dried blood.

Something turns your head back in time for the last shot. It doesn’t split a zombie’s skull.

Instead, you watch the muzzle of Daeyeol’s gun fall away from his temple as he collapses to the ground.

Dead.

Dead. Dead. Your best friend is dead. Dead. Dead. Daeyeol is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead dead dead dead your best friend is dead dead dead Daeyeol’s dead dead dead he’s dead dead dead dead dead he’s DEAD HE’S DEAD –

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you haul the stranger forward to the car still parked on the street. Tossing open the passenger door, you shove him in, then throw yourself into the driver’s seat.

You jam the key into the ignition, turn it and hear the engine sputter to life. Instinct alone moves your limbs, foot pressing down on the gas, hands clenching the wheel so hard your knuckles burn.

Tears stream down your face as you drive into the setting sun.

. . . . .

The car dies ten miles down the road. Far enough to escape straggling zombies.

Not far enough to escape bloody memories.

You curse loudly, slamming a hand on the steering wheel as if it’ll do anything (it won’t. You don’t need two degrees in mechanical engineering to have that measure of common fucking sense). Next to you, the boy remains quiet, barely looking over as you hit the wheel again. And again.

It doesn’t bring Daeyeol back.

Still, you give the steering wheel one more whack before throwing open the car door to kick the vehicle in the side once. Twice.

“Don’t injure yourself.”

Ah. So he speaks. Mystery boy’s voice is a little higher than you expected. If you’d met him before the apocalypse, you might even say it was smooth. Nice. Like a singer’s.

Like Daeyeol’s.

You kick the car a third time, insides writhing.

And you hate it.

It’s irrational, of course, fully irrational. He hasn’t done anything to earn your anger. It’s probably not his fault he got cornered by a horde of zombies. It definitely isn’t his fault Daeyeol has – had – Jesus Christ, you can’t think of him in the past tense, your knees are already going wobbly and the tears are coming again – a stupid selfless streak that ultimately got him killed –

But how dare he speak. How dare he use his voice to warn you not to injure yourself when Daeyeol is the one who should be sitting there saying that. Daeyeol should be the one telling you to take care of yourself when the anger, the stress, the sheer enormity of the world and your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe start getting to your head.

If this boy hadn’t been in trouble, Daeyeol would still be here. He’d be here, alive, and though you’d still be stuck ten miles down the fucking road, at least he wouldn’t be dead. Dead because he sacrificed himself for a guy caught in the middle of a zombie horde on top of a fucking bus whom neither of you even knows.

With the last of your strength, you slam the car door shut before you say something you’ll regret. Sinking down on the dirty, empty highway, you close your eyes and take a shuddering breath.

You don’t cry. You just sit there, eyes staring into the darkness of your closed lids. There’s no telling how much time passes until a car door opens and shuts.

There’s a soft grunt. A gasp of pain. Then a presence settles itself on your side of the car, hovering over your still body.

Your fists clench. Unclench. It’s not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault, not his fault, not his fault –

You open your eyes to stare flatly at the boy standing over you. “Yes?”

He flinches. It must have come out more accusatory than you wanted. You don’t do anything, though, only stare as he keeps standing, leg shifting awkwardly.

Not shifting. You lower your gaze, narrowing your eyes at his trembling limbs. Your mind flashes back to him jumping off the bus, the noise with which he landed, the way he was limping slightly as first Daeyeol, then you dragged him away.

He’s injured. No bones broken since he can still support his weight, but maybe a fracture. Something you don’t have the capacity to heal with anything but time.

Time that you don’t have.

“I…” He swallows. “I wanted to thank you. For helping – saving me.”

For some reason, that rubs you the wrong way.

“Don’t thank me.” Your voice slices the air, bitterly caustic. “Thank my friend. He’s the one who wanted to help.” You look away. “You know, the one who’s dead.”

He flinches again, hard enough to stumble backward. Only the car keeps him from falling over. A pang of guilt hits at your sharp words, but anger and grief for Daeyeol keep it at bay. “You can stay the night,” you say, still averting your gaze. “Take the backseat. Not like I’ll be driving any fucking further.” You stand and kick the car again, this time leaving a dent in the rusty metal. “Gonna have to go back to walking…”

Walking.

Your mouth goes dry.

This is the first time you’ll be walking alone. No Daeyeol to watch your back, no knowledge that someone who’s known you for over twenty years will be at your side. That’s gone, all of it. Gone with his death.

The thought ices your veins. You just want to curl into a ball and cry. But that’s not an option, not with this mystery boy enclosed in the same space as you, so you just throw open the door and slide back inside. He follows a little more cautiously, gingerly entering the car and closing his door softly before sitting in the back.

You sigh. “Close it fully.”

He blinks up at you in the grimy rearview mirror.

“Close the door fully,” you snap. “If a zombie manages to get in because you didn’t close it properly, we’re both fucked.”

It stings a little to be so rude, especially when he only opens the door again like you said and shuts it with more force. But nothing changes the fact that Daeyeol died for him, a person he didn’t even know, and that this boy is the reason why Daeyeol isn’t sitting next to you in the passenger seat, his silent, familiar presence comforting you into sleep.

A tear blinks out of your closed eyes. Why? you want to scream. Why did he do it? Why did he always want to help everybody, even if he knew it might come at the cost of his own life?

You know the answer. Humanity. Daeyeol told you every time you asked, every time you had another brush with death to save anyone you could. He had to keep faith, had to believe that there was something, anything he could do to alleviate some of the pain brought on by this tragedy.

It’s why you always admired him, were so loyal to him from the day you two first became friends in elementary school. Daeyeol always believed in strength that comes from kindness, believed in helping those who couldn’t always help themselves. It’s why you always followed him into the fight, regardless of how much you wanted to shove him back in the car and just drive away.

Bitterness lodges in a lump in your throat.

So much for humanity when all that kindness just got him killed.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Daeyeol’s soul :/)

[daydreamsofh]

Terrible Love- Part Two

A/N: Ahhhhh hello! Welcome to Terrible Love, part two! I have had so much fun writing this story, and I am so so proud of it, and so happy to share it with you! 

A massive thank you to my girl @harryinsweatersandbandanas for just being herself and always encouraging me, and to my sweet friend @dallas-suit-harry for being the best beta reader ever! I’m so lucky to know you, Em! <3 

Here we go, again! Feedback and reblogs are always welcome, my ask box is always always open! 

Summary: Love, or should I say falling for your best friend has a way of being terrible, and wonderful all at the same time. 

Inspired by the song: Terrible Love- Birdy

Word Count: 6k, almost 7k

Part One: Terrible Love

**

You weren’t proud of what you did. Leading guys on wasn’t one of your hobbies, and you genuinely felt bad for inviting Connor to go to the party with you, knowing there were no hopes of an actual chance of a relationship between the two of you at the end of the night. It wasn’t like you were a villain in a romantic comedy, wheelding your imaginary sword to hurt people on purpose. If anything, you did feel like you were in the middle of a romantic comedy, torn between wanting Harry so badly it made you sick, and all the while being so weary of him and the mountain of feelings you held for him. Although, It was clearly looking like you didn’t really have a choice in being with him, his hands and mind busy with someone else. But still that didn’t stop the aching feeling you had in your chest, and the shaking feeling you had in your hands. 

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, however you were convinced that absence from the guy you were embarrassingly in love with, made the heart grow bitter and on the verge of an emotional breakdown at any given second. Harry was normally always on your mind, but ever since he got home it was tenfold. You couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, you felt like you would never catch your breath. You would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about who gave him those marks on his neck, who got to feel his lips against theirs, to feel the stubble of his jaw lightly grazing their skin. The feeling of his hands, no doubt a little bit rough in texture from the nights on end of him strumming his guitar on stage, gripping on to their hips in the most possessive, yet gentle way. The knowledge that the smile on his face and the extra swing in his step was from the new flame budding between the two of them. 

You were more uneasy now that he was home again, there was no way to ignore your feelings when he was literally right in front of you. You found yourself unable to sleep, yet again, and without having the comforts to lull you to sleep like when he was gone. There was no duvet to bury under that smelled of him, no bedside book’s that have the lines he fell in love with littering the pages to make your eyes heavy, and no air to breathe that he once had. You were awake at all hours of the night wondering who was on his mind and in his heart, the way he was in yours. 

Meanwhile, Harry was absolutely positive he was losing it. He was unable to focus on anything for longer than five minutes before his mind filtered back to you. More specifically, your smell on his sheets and throughout the air of his home, he wondered where you had sat and where you had laid your head to rest, where had you eaten your breakfast and where had you taken his calls? He was romanticizing every little detail about you that was now etched into his home. Even the strands of hair that were stuck to his pillow, and the smell of your perfume practically stamped into every one of his jumpers, every little thing. He was even dreaming about you, and he doesn’t need an expert to tell him that that is a clear sign that that was a sign. He loved you, he was sure of it.  But among other things, he was also painfully sure that it seemed you had met someone else. When you were so nonchalant about going on a date and then coming back to his house afterwards like it was no big deal, he had never been so cross with you, but mainly with himself. 

How is it that he never said anything? How is it that he’s a man who writes love songs for a living and always urges people to tell people how they feel, no matter how embarrassing and terrifying that may be? How is he someone who says “Give Love, Choose Love” so naturally, so  afraid to just bloody tell you how he feels?! How is he someone who fearlessly spews romantic advice to those who ask for it, and he can’t tell you how he feels?  How is he a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, (literally and figuratively) and he can’t tell you how he really feels about you? He’s known he’s loved you for forever, but now he’s more than sure that he’s in love with you, and that notion, the one that he’s in love with his best friend is the most mind blowing/overwhelming revelation that he thinks he’s ever had. Hang performing in front of thousands of people, this is the biggest rush he’s ever felt. What is he supposed to do now?! You have a new guy in your life and he’s not the type of guy to run in the middle of that and cause a scene, and plus, who knows if you even feel the same way? He’s gone for months at a time, and while his personal life is more private now than ever before, being in his life in that way does require being a bit in the spotlight, and he’s not going to ask you to sign up for that. 

But Christ, what if you are? What if you did want to sign up for that? Being his girlfriend, being in his life in a way you never have been before? BUT, you have a bloody boyf-friend-thing. Christ. How the hell did you even have time to meet someone? He had spoken to you nearly every day he had been gone, and he never even got the slightest inkling that there was anyone remotely new in your life. Let alone a dodgy sounding guy like him?! Christ how long had he really been gone? You had been so cheerful with him on the phone, but you always are. Telling him everything was good and that he doesn’t even need to come back because you had made yourself right at home. He had laughed at that one, the kind of breathy laugh that turns into the most dreamy sigh because the thought of you calling his house, home, is something straight out of one of his dreams. And yours too, but that's besides the point. 

He felt so stuck in the weeds and he just wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you and kiss you until you were breathless. But on the other hand, you had only just started dating this new guy, so maybe he could still say something. He had to, or he at least had to try. 

**

Every time Harry finished a tour, or the leg of a tour, Jeff was insistent on throwing him a welcome home party. As if he hadn’t just been showered with love from stadiums of people for months on end. You had attended every single one, because if there’s anyone who is best in the category of showering Harry with love, you take the cake. You stood alongside Anne and Gemma for a majority of the last one, in between gazing at him with so much love in your eyes you couldn’t believe you weren't actively crying the entire time. When he cozied up beside you after all of the toasts in his honor, you could feel the heat radiating from him, and then he slipped his hand to rest over your leg under the table. You couldn’t feel your hands when he reached over to give yours a squeeze, and when Gemma and Anne weren’t looking you leaned over and planted a kiss on his shoulder before pausing to rest your head there and gaze up at him. He gave you a lopsided smile, (one of your favorite ones of his) and he dipped down to kiss your forehead. 

You had chalked up his touchy behavior to him being slightly buzzed, but for the next week every time you looked down at your hands you stopped breathing for a few seconds. 

You were dreading this one though, positively absolutely dreading it. You were mad at Harry, and sad and jealous of whoever he was now mysteriously dating while on the road, but you couldn't not go. You couldn’t not go and tell him how proud of him you were, and  it didn’t matter how frustrated you were at the situation, or really at the universe for misaligning the timing of you two, again. You hated to throw the i’m in love with my best friend and he has no idea and has some secret new girlfriend and you just wanted to cry the entire time card, but it was very tempting. You knew that if you didn’t go, that would raise more suspicion and would require further explanation, so you were forcing yourself to go. 

There was only a two day stretch from the time Harry got home to the night of the party. You had been nauseous most of the day, incredibly anxious about the fact that you were about to be in the same space as him for an unimaginable amount of time, with a guy who you barely knew and definitely shouldn't have invited to come with you. While you were positive that Harry didn’t feel the same way, you were also positive that you didn’t want to be with anyone else, either. Who knows, maybe you would wind up being an 80 year old woman, single and alone with an australian shepherd mysteriously named Harry. Anything was possible at this point. 

You had been more than useless at work all week, and the closer the time came for the party, the more you were thinking of reasons to get you out of going. You could say you caught a cold from the office? Or that you ate some bad chinese food and had a stomach ache? Or… you could just run. Run and never look back, hide out somewhere in Italy and start making hand spun soaps out of your living room? Yeah, you liked that option best. 

When you had originally texted Connor and asked him if he wanted to tag along, you weren’t really thinking straight. You had tears running down your face and your heart was rolled into a ball in the pit of your stomach. Nothing felt right and you just wanted to turn the car around and fall into Harry. You had just seen the marks on his skin in real time with your own eyes and everytime you shut yours they were lit up with big bold letters beside them. He’s met someone else, get over it. You weren’t looking for an eye for an eye with Harry, but you also didn’t want to show up by yourself and seem anymore sad and alone, however stupid and counterproductive that sounds. 

Connor had texted you back almost immediately, clearly looking to hear from you. He said he would love to join you, babe! Which could not have sounded more unnatural coming out of his mouth, or across the screen. Same difference. You guessed you really had no choice than to go, now. 

When the day of the party rolled around, you had done everything in your power to stay at work for as long as you possibly could. Save from actually rearranging your desk furniture for the upteenth time, you dredged home to change before Connor picked you up. He had insisted on driving you, (clearly trying to establish his good guy facade) and you would have rather had him hit you with his car than go to the party. A bit dramatic on your end but you really, desperately, whole heartedly, DID NOT want to go. He could just knick you a little and then you would really have a reason not to go. Wait, were you actually thinking of asking a guy you barely knew to hit you…. With his….. Moving car?! Get a grip! You can do this. It’s not like you actually had to have a conversation with Harry, you just had to show up and make your presence somewhat known. You didn’t have to give a toast in his honor or read a poem about your deepest strongest feelings for him. You could do this. It was just one night. One night of acting like you weren’t in love with him, one night of acting like your heart hadn;t been ripped out of your chest, once night of hiding the love that you felt so deeply for him. One more night of you trying to convince yourself that you never needed to know what it was like to feel him brush your hair back as he kissed you, that you never needed to know what it was like for him to glance at you from across the room and wrap you up in his arms, just because he could, that you never needed to know what it sounded like to hear him moan your name out in the middle of the night. 

 One more night of you trying to convince yourself that he was so much a part of your heart that it was practically in the shape of an H. You could do this. You could learn how to love him from a distance. You at least had to try. 

**

Connor had volunteered to come by your house and pick you up, which you had wanted to say no to, but you thought it was the least you could do if you were dragging him along to this party with you. You could tell that as soon as you asked him to come with you, and who the party was for, he was more than game to go. Name dropping was absolutely not something you ever did, especially Harry’s name, but when he asked you didn’t see any reason to lie. 

The drive to the party had been a quiet one, only glancing at him when you felt like it was absolutely necessary when he asked you a question. You gave him short answers, instead focusing on the car getting closer and closer to Harry’s house. When the car came to a gradual stop and Harry's house was in view, you felt your stomach drop and your hands start to shake. You very sullenly opened the door and got out, wanting nothing more than to bolt down the street on foot. 

Connor walked from the other side of the car to yours, and you kept your hands to yourself, crossing your arms before falling in line beside him and walking up Harry’s driveway. You could hear loud laughter booming as you got closer to the front door, and you could only guess that Harry was attributing to some of the sound. You let out a small whimper before almost bolting back to the car. The front door to his house was wide open, adding to the relaxed, and easy going mood of the night. You strolled in with Connor in tow, him closely following behind you.  When you glanced back at him he was wide eyed, taking in his surroundings while simultaneously taking a count of every one that was there, clearly not used to being around famous people. The house had a few people grazing in and out, with the majority of the people outside in Harry’s backyard. Lights were strung in the trees and you could hear the faint sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing somewhere in the distance.

You felt like a zombie walking into the party, your heart was in your throat and you were afraid to dart your eyes around to see who else was in the room. Too afraid that Harry would be in your immediate direction and you would be forced to look at him and talk to him and hear his voice.  Just the image of him in your head made your heart physically ache in your chest and speed ip all at the same time. You didn’t want to see him, but at the same time you wanted to see him as painful as it would be. You just wanted to lay your eyes on him, maybe from a distance, hiding underneath a table where no one could see you weeping, or you know, something like that. 

You were busy talking to a mutual friend of yours and Harry’s when you swore you felt the wind in the air change. As dramatic as it sounds, you suddenly felt warmer, safer, and you could feel a pair of very familiar eyes on you. You shifted your gaze from your friend, and when you turned around you made direct eye contact with Harry. Your pulse was rising and you swore you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. You could feel your eyes beginning to brim with tears before you looked away to (as discreetly as  you could) wipe your eyes. You felt stuck in your stance but you couldn't ignore the other feeling pulling at you, almost pushing you over to him. 

You were trying to listen to what your friend was saying, something about a new cat of hers, but you couldn't hear a word over your whirling thoughts and your head was starting to become dizzy from your eyes darting around the room trying to find Harry again. You were hot and bothered (and not in a good way) at the fact that he was in the same crowded room as you were now, and you felt like a sitting duck, just waiting. 

The selfish part of you wanted so badly to feel his arms wrap around your waist and his voice in your ear as opposed to only in your wildest daydreams. He was everywhere but physically with you, and when you really thought about it, that’s how it always seemed. Always on your mind and in your heart but never in your reach. Always a fleeting, overwhelming feeling that only seemed to grow over time. It grew in every touch you shared with him, in every timid and sometimes annoyed glance, every time you made him laugh and every time you made him grin and shake his head in disbelief at you. They grew each time you innocently fell asleep on the couch together after a night of movies, it grew each time he called you while he was away and you could hear the smile in his voice as he told you about each crowd, and each show and which joke he had come up with on stage that was way less funny than it actually sounded. It grew everyday just because he was Harry, just because he was him, and because you were you. You had no say in the matter anymore. 

A hand on the small of your back broke your train of thoughts, you jumped and nervously clutched the pendant hanging from your neck before you whipped your head around to see who it was. Much to your disappointment you were met with Connor’s eyes instead of bright green ones and you were unable to hide the pout that your face immediately fell into, and then the nervous uncomfortable smile that you shot at Connor. 

“There you are, lost you in the crowd for a bit! Good to see you again,” he said to you with an awkward smile as he threw an even more awkward arm around your shoulder. 

His arm felt like a dead weight draped around you and you felt nauseous at the mere sight of the two of you. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up and it certainly wasn’t at the feelings you had toward Connor, rather at the sight of your friend's eyes on you two, together. If this was the look they were sporting, you could only imagine what Harry’s would look like. 

You smiled while Connor introduced himself to your friend while at the same time gently but firmly removing his arm from your shoulder. You let it fall to his side before running your hand up and down your arm, suddenly cold from the strange contact and the cool air rustling through you from outside. At the same time as the chill went through you, you heard a familiar voice directly behind you and your knees buckled. You could feel the heat radiating off of Harry behind you and you wanted nothing more than to turn around and fall into his familiar warmth and smell. Oh god you could feel your throat thickening and eyes tearing, this was not the time to cry with he who shall not be named literally directly behind you, close enough to reach out and touch. Get it together! 

You heard the conversation behind you die down and before you knew it you felt the familiar brush of a shoulder against yours and your eyes clamped shut before opening again. You felt the air being stolen from your lungs while his presence practically enveloped yours and you felt yourself starting to sway towards him. You felt your breath hitch before your eyes even met his and when they finally did you practically melted into a puddle at his feet. 

“Uh oh-- look who it is! Hi love,” Harry warmly spoke to you before his eyes took in your appearance, looking you up and down. 

You opened your mouth to speak and when just a squeak came out you cleared your throat before muttering a very profound, dramatically quiet, “Hi, H” Brilliant. Just brilliant! 

“Hi love,” he said through a chuckle. 

It was like it was just the two of you in the room, his gaze was warm on yours and his eyes were glossy as he watched you and it wasn’t until Connor broke up the moment with a nudge of his elbow annoyingly against yours that you looked away. 

You let out a nervous, annoying high pitched laugh before you coughed and turned towards Connor. 

“Um, Harry this is, this is Connor, Connor this is Harry,” you gestured in between the both of them and nervously tucked your hair behind your ear before you started fiddling with your pendant again. 

Harry’s gazed dropped to the floor before he solemnly picked his head up and reached his hand out to shake Connor’s hand, and you had never wanted to go back in time so badly, back in time to when Connor picked you up, instead of just asking him to hit you with his stupid car just to get you out of this horribly awkward and uncomfortable moment. 

Harry cleared his throat before firmly shaking Connor’s hand (almost a little too firmly if the buckle in Connor’s knees told you anything) and introducing himself. 

“Nice to meet you, thanks for,” Harry glanced in between the both of you before continuing, “Thanks for coming out tonight.” 

Connor cleared his throat before you could see him trying to make himself taller by puffing his chest out and muttering a less than confident, “So good to meet you, mate! I’m a huge fan of all of your….. Stuff!” 

You dropped your gaze back to the floor and your cheeks were positively on fire and when you looked back at Harry he had a dazed, confused and solemn look on his face that you couldn’t quite read. 

Harry spoke up before you could think to say literally anything and he stratched his hand up and down the back of his neck, (a nervous habit you picked up on years ago) before he sighed and looked back, only at you this time. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re both- you’re both here. Drinks are around back and I’ll be around if you need anything,” he gave you a weak smile and you just shook your head before looking down at your feet again. 

It was the most awkward, lukewarm conversation (if you can even call it that) and you felt sick to your stomach- had you two reached that point in your friendship? In your whatever-you-call-this-ship? If you took being with Harry in a romantic sort of way off the table completely, if you learned to love him from a distance, is this what it would be like and feel like?

The awkward silence and not knowing what to say, the knowing glances and not-knowing glances, and the glances where you know what one of you wants to say but you just... can’t? The rubbish timing and people in between you, the aching, empty feeling in the pit of your stomach and your heart. Not being in his life remotely as much as you were, now? You weren’t sure you could do that. No, you were positive you couldn’t do that. 

**

The majority of the night consisted of stolen, painful glances and half lipped smiles and half full glasses. You had listened to the toasts in Harry’s honor and the speeches recounting details of tour life and rounds of applause. After things had died down a bit and you had lost Connor in the crowd of people (thankfully and more than willingly),  you found yourself inside the house, wandering the halls and eventually landing in his closet. 

It was a strange thing, but his wardrobe always brought a sense of comfort to you. It was big enough to live in and packed to the brim with clothes enough to make you feel oddly safe. Surrounded by the pieces that made Harry who he was and  that had memories of the two of you intertwined through the fabric. And out of the corner of your eye you spotted those atrocious white loafers of his, on the bottom shelf of his shoe shelf and you couldn’t help but let out a loud, slightly inebriated, genuine giggle. 

“Thought I heard someone pilfering through my things like a thief in the night, should have known it was you,” 

You whipped your head around and your eyes raised and settled in surprise, that warm, almost burning feeling in your chest back again, like it was every time you caught him looking at you. 

“I actually just came in here to confiscate these god awful loafers from your closet, never got around to doing that when I was here,” you smiled through your nerves and Harry was gazing at you so warmly you could feel the effects of it all throughout your body. 

“You know they're actually not that bad, paired with the right pair of trousers they don’t look so grandpa-y,” he chuckled through his sentence and you mirrored a similar, giddy one. 

“Ah of course of course, all depends on how you style it, Lambert teach you that trick, huh, H?” 

You noticed a blush creeping down his neck and you could feel the butterflies beginning to erupt in the pit of your stomach. 

“He did actually, practically his prodigy at this point, y’know?” 

“Oh yeah I bet you are- I’m sure you’re a great student,” 

He let out a loud laugh and his eyes were crinkling at your joke and he shook his head before he looked at you again. 

He moved closer to you and you felt yourself drift closer to him in response.He was close enough to you now for you to feel the heat radiating off of him, and your fingers itched to reach out and touch him. 

He raised his hand up to brush your hair out of your face and behind your ear, and your breath hitched before he brought his gaze up to yours. 

Your hand instinctively reached to squeeze his forearm before you moved it across his body to rest on his chest. His hand moved from your hair to grab your hand and he held it firmly, proudly against his chest. You were surprised to feel his heart beating rapidly against the back of your hand, and it took everything in you not to lean forward and brush your lips against his. 

His voice was raspy and warm when he opened his mouth, “I realy, really missed you. I’m s’happy you’re here tonight. Always feel so much better when I can see you from across the room,” 

You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes and you had to divert your gaze to the row of shoes behind him in order for the tears not to pool down your cheeks. You were leaning into his chest and he was holding a firm, but tentative grip on the side of your face with his other hand. 

You could feel his calloused fingers resting against your cheek and it grounded you in the moment and at the same time made your heart race faster. 

How could he say things, incredible incredible things like this to you, and have marks from someone else on his neck, at the same time? 

That thought was enough to  bring you back to earth and you cleared your throat before briefly shifting your stance in his arms.

 You retreated the tiniest bit and his hands and eyes were following you, and with whatever strength you had left you squeaked out, “I’m really happy I’m here too, H. I can’t even tell you how good it feels to be in the same room as you again,” your eyes fluttered and shut as you managed to get that out and you felt him rest his forehead against yours. 

A knock on the door broke you two out of the moment, you could hear the faint voice of Connor (otherwise known as the ultimate moment ruiner) and an ask if you were ready to leave. 

You and Harry were still standing there, resting against each other and his eyes were boring into yours and you just wanted the floor to swallow you both whole. Take the both of you somewhere far, far away where no one else can be found. 

You sighed before taking another step backwards out of his grip and muttered a very shaky, nervous, “well I, I guess I should go, he’s kind of my ride,” 

Harry cleared his throat before he released his grip on you and you saw his smile turn into a frown before he said, “oh yeah- of course love. I’ll, I guess I’ll see you soon? Thank you f’comin,” 

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and you let out the tiniest, hopefully inaudible whimper and you took his hands in yours and gave them a good squeeze before turning away from him. 

Heart in your throat and partially in the pit of your stomach you made your way out of his closet and down the hall, where Connor was waiting for you with a giddy grin. He was chit chatting with one of the sound engineers that works on tour with Harry, assuming that was where his good mood was coming from. You watched them say goodbye and when you turned to open the door to leave you couldn’t help but let out a confused, albeit relieved laugh. 

You had brought Connor here feeling terrible of giving him the impression you were leading him on, and here he was meeting someone totally new. You were halfway down the driveway when you saw him turn around and wave goodbye to her yet again before you stopped yourself completely. 

Wait a minute- wait a minute- wait a minute-wait a minute! If an absolute emobossil of a guy like Connor could meet someone at a house party where he knew literally no one, who's to say you were wrong about how you thought that Harry felt about you? There weren't exactly any rules to love, not any that made sense anyway. Who’s to say that Harry doesn’t feel the exact same way about you, as you do him? 

Who’s to say that he’s not as ridiculously, overwhelmingly, annoyingly,  dramatically as in love with you, as you are him? You weren’t sure, but you had to find out. 

Connor stopped once he realized you weren’t following him anymore, and he turned his head to look at you before walking backwards to catch up to you. 

“Did you forget something inside?” he asked you with a quirk to his brow. 

You laughed before answering him, “you know what? I actually did. I’ll go back in and get it and just get a car from here, don’t worry about me!” 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.” he said to you before looking behind you to peer at his new friend again. 

“I’m positive, plus it looks like someone else is waiting for you, go on,” you smiled before glancing behind you and waving. 

“Are you sure?” he asked without even looking at you and you just shook your head. 

“I’m more than sure, go on,” you smiled at him again and gave his shoulder a friendly, reassuring squeeze. 

And with that you sprinted back into the house and left Connor on the sidewalk to catch up with his new friend. 

When you got back into the house there was no one inside, just the aftermath of a usual houseparty- empty bottles of alcohol everywhere and balloons and streamers littering the floor of Harry’s foyer. 

You didn’t see him in the kitchen or the living room, so you ran back down the hallway to the wardrobe you left him in. You burst through the door without knocking and sure enough, there he was sat on the ground picking at the carpet on the floor of his closet. 

His eyes shot up at you and he jumped to his feet. 

“What are y-” 

He was cut off by you lunging at him and you gripped the collar of his shirt before tugging him down to where he was eye level with you. 

“Love, what are y’doing,” he asked you while rested his forehead against yours, panting at your close proximity. 

“Shh, please I need to say this,” you shakily started. 

“Harry, I-- oh god I can’t believe i’m saying this, I-,” 

“Wait wait, no I need t’say somethin’ first,” he countered when you failed to get the words out. 

You took a shaky breath in and you could feel the warmth of his body pulling you in further towards him. 

“I love you, I love you, I- m’so in love with you. Please tell m’you don’t love him, please tell me i’m not too late, that we’re not too late,” 

You felt your face drop in shock and as dramatic as it was you thought you were going to pass out face first on the very plush carpet of his closet. 

“You-you what?!” you practically shouted at him. Your fingertips were burning as you gripped his shirt tighter and you felt like your heart was going to physically beat out of your chest with how loud it was pounding in your ears and against your ribcage. 

“I love you, I mean it, I truly, truly do. M’going out of my mind. Please y’can’t leave with him, I can’t be without you any longer,” 

“Harry , I-” you started, only to be cut off again by his stammering. 

“M’sorry it took me so long t’say but god I mean it, I love you. I’ve been going out of my mind since I got home, I see you everywhere here. You’re in every room I go into, and every corner that I look. I’m better when you’re here, I’m more-- I’m just better. Please, I just, I love you, you have t’believe me,” 

When you didn’t say anything back in response Harry took that as his cue to back away but instead you gripped on to him even tighter. 

It was suddenly a lot hotter in his room and you were full on shoulders raised and fingers shaking panting,  and there were streams of tears rolling down your face. 

“You what?!” you shouted at him in disbelief, again. 

He laughed before shaking his head at you, “Do you need me to repeat all of that to you again?” 

Your only response was to pull him towards you the rest of the way and to slot his lips against yours. The kiss started languilly and Harry was cradling your face in his hands to keep the both of you steady. His lips were so soft and gentle against yours, and you could feel the faint tugging of the remnants of facial hair against your skin and you melted into him. 

Your lungs were starting to burn and when you physically couldn’t keep kissing him you broke away from his lips and rested your head against his chest. 

You were both panting and when he muttered your name to get you to look at him, you couldn’t help but look up at him with watery eyes. 

While this was a mind blowing revelation and you were 50% sure you were dreaming, you got sight of the stupid marks against his neck and you had to finally ask where the hell those came from. 

You pulled him to you again, and snaked your arms around the wide expanse of his shoulders. You ran your (albeit shaky) fingers down his neck until you brought your eyes to meet his again. 

“Who, who gave you these?” you said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Harry looked down at your hands, “Gave me what?” 

“What do you mean, ‘gave you what’?! Who gave you these marks?” 

“What marks? Love these are from my stupid guitar strap,” 

His guitar strap?! His stupid stupid fucking guitar strap?! That was why you had been breaking into sobbing fits for the past two weeks?! 

“Are you- are you serious?! That’s why i’ve been crying at the drop of the hat every second since our call  a few weeks ago?!” you shook your head and laughed, “I thought someone, I thought you had met someone, and you know…..” 

“Absolutely not love. Don’t really have the time for that when i’m on the road, not like i’ve really been interested in that lately to begin with,” he gestured to you and you sputtered out a laugh. 

“Okay, well if we’re admitting stuff I guess I should tell you, I’m not with him, Connor. We’ve never been together. I barely know him. I just drugged him here tonight so I wouldn’t be here alone…” 

Harry dropped his head in relief before pushing his hair back from his forehead, “Oh thank god,” he muttered from behind his hands. 

“Does that mean that you…..” he started. 

“I love you, I love you, I absolutely love you, H. You’re my favorite person in the world, I love you, I always have. I’ve always been here,” 

Harry lunged forward and slotted his lips against yours again, that was an answer all in itself. 

When you broke apart finally Harry spoke up before resting his forehead against yours. 

“From here on out, let’s just be honest with each other, yeah? Would have saved a lot of trouble if we’d just said how we felt from the start,” 

You simply nodded before pulling him into you and nuzzling your face in his neck. 

You stood there for a few moments, just basking in this new feeling of love and sureness that you had between the two of you. Your lips started to quirk and you raised your head from his neck. 

“If we’re being completely honest here H, you have got to get rid of those terrible, terrible shoes,” you said it with a serious face before you burst into laughter.

He laughed a bug, genuine laugh before resting his hands on your hips. 

“I guess that can be arranged, love,” he rolled his eyes playfully and you batted at his chest. 

What a terribly fun love this was going to be. 

[thestarkerisobvious]

Truth Or Dare

He knew Peter would be amazing in bed.  The kid was fearless and had a body that just wouldn’t quit.  And that eager, hyperactive willingness to please?  Dial that up to 11 in the sheets.  

How long it would last, Tony didn’t know.  The kid had a crush on him once, although Tony assumed that it had worn off long before now.  He tried to play it casual.

But their lives were anything but casual.  The bad guy of the week (some of them with the most ridiculous stage names!) meant life was never boring.  And when the fight was over, Peter was always invited to Tony’s room in the Avenger Tower to stay the night.  (Or the day, depending on when the fight ended.)  Tony’s bed was always open.

He had known Peter would be amazing in the sack.  And he probably should have known Peter would want it hard… they were talking about the kid who once got hit by a train and woke up with a headache.  But Tony hadn’t counted on how kinky the kid could be.

And the dirty talk?  The kid couldn’t get enough.

“Are you going to fight it, Parker?” he growled, pushing Peter face first onto the

 bed, wrenching one arm behind his back.  “Go ahead, fight it.  I bet you sweet little hole gets tight when you fight…”

“N…no Mr. Stark sir, I won’t fight it…” came that beautiful polite voice, muffled as Peter hid his face in the sheets.  

“Are you going to be a good boy for me Parker?”

“Oh yes sir, I’ll be your good boy sir…”

“You must have let every man in town line up to fuck this hole, Queens.  But your cute little hole is mine tonight, you’re mine tonight.  You’re mine until I let you go.”

“Yes sir…”

“Tell me what you want,  Pete.”

“I really want you to fuck me, sir.”

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to speak louder than that. And stop hiding your face.”

And so on and so forth.  Peter was enthusiastic and thirsty and good.  And if Tony was quietly falling head over heals for the kid, well, did anyone really have to know?

But tonight something was wrong.  Tony had just come his brains out and because he was still trying to remember which way was up, he almost didn’t catch the slight movement of Peter’s face against the bed.  The move to wipe the tears off his face before he turned his head.

And there it was again, Peter stretching his arms, but really he was trying to get his hands to his face to wipe away tears.  That he didn’t want Tony to see.  That that wasn’t the first time, Tony had seen something much like that the last time they had been together, and very suddenly he needed to know why.

“Hey,” he said tenderly, reaching out to stroke the boy’s head.  But that wasn’t good.  That wasn’t what they were.  So he cleared his throat and tried to sound more casual instead.

“Hey, you know you can tell me at any time… when you need to stop or slow down, you know that don’t you?”

“I’m lying on a wetspot,” Peter laughed, moving aside, trying not to answer.  But even as he moved there was that furtive swipe of the hand across his cheek.  Nothing major, just a wet cheek.  Not a big deal.  Only this made it twice.

“You know I can ease up on the rough talk, you just tell if it gets to be too much, right?”

“Oh no no Tony, god no,” Peter said, looking alarmed at the prospect.  “It was amazing.  God I came so hard.  And I left…” He looked down at the covers guiltily. “I think I came twice.”

He let the kid change the subject, head toward the shower. But it was nagging at him now.  They had never done anything but the rough talk, the roughhousing.  Arms pinned behind his back, hands firm on his wrists, always demanding he ask for it, always demanding he beg.  Tony had found what the kid liked, and he didn’t dare let up now.  He wouldn’t get many chances to impress the Amazing Spider-Man, so whenever he was given the opportunity, he aimed to please.  But damn, if Peter wanted something else, he could certainly provide.  He was a man of many skills.  So he decided to pursue the subject.  But he didn’t know how, normal procedures certainly couldn’t work.  So he decided to get creative.

“Truth or dare,” he said as Peter climbed into bed.  

Peter looked at him, alarmed.  Then he lay back on the bed, resigned.  He reached out for Tony’s hand, and pulled him in.  

“You go first,” Tony said, hating that pained look on Peter’s face, as if the boy had been caught.  

“Oh!  Oh, okay… truth or dare.”

Peter pulled Tony on top of him where Tony sat astride him, leaning in to kiss his head.

“Truth.”

“Okay, which Avenger… which Avenger do you like the least.”

Without hesitation he leaned down to whisper the truth in Peter’s ear.  Peter’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he nodded.  “Yeah, yeah, I can see that.”

“My turn,” Tony said gently.  Peter’s closed his eyes, resigned.  

“Okay.”

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“What’s this?” Tony asked as tenderly, his fingertip tracing the path where Peter’s tear had fallen.

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it helplessly. More than once.  The truth was just to big to fit through there.

“Hey, if it’s just part of the sex, if it’s just part of the cool-down, then tell me.  That’s okay, that’s normal.  I just need to know.”

“No,” Peter said, barely above a whisper. “Truth.  But it’s a secret.”

“Okay.”

“I think I’m in love with an Avenger.”

Tony was glad Peter’s eyes were closed.  It took him time for Tony to adjust the expression on his face, a fact he wasn’t proud of.  Happily, Peter never opened his eyes at all.

“Truth or dare?” Peter asked, his eyes still closed.  His voice sounded pained and frightened.

“Truth.”

He opened his eyes.  He looked up at Tony, sitting up straight now, and raised himself onto his elbows to ask the question.

“Have you really never seen the Star Wars prequels?” he asked in a normal voice (or nearly-normal voice.)

“Yeah, that’s easy, no.  Because they don’t exist.”

There was a long pause between them as they looked into each other’s eyes.  Finally Peter spoke.

“Your turn,” he whispered.  And Tony knew what Peter wanted to say.  To explain that this was over.  To explain that Peter had feelings for one of the other Avengers, probably one of the newbies, closer to his age, closer to his temperament, closer to his perfectness.  Closer to him.  Tony was the adult.  Tony would do the adult thing and move aside.

But right now the adult thing was to face the information fearlessly, and that’s what he did.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Who are you in love with Peter?”  He asked, but his heart broke a little when Peter grimaced and lay back on the bed, covering up his beautiful face with both hands.  Tony had it bad for this kid, there was no way around it.  But even when they stopped being lovers, even when they went back to just being friends, he still needed Peter to know he had his back.  Would always have his back.  Tony put one solid hand on Peter’s chest and rubbed it comfortingly, trying to sound encouraging.

“It’s okay, kid.  I promise I’ll never tell.  Who is it?”

He was half hoping Peter wouldn’t even answer, but when was life ever so kind to him?  Peter opened his eyes and sat up, moving Tony’s hand off his chest and wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck, bringing their heads together to offer up his secret.

“I’m in love with Iron Man.”

[nothing-but-dreamy]

LEGACY

Pairing: FFXV!TITUS DRAUTOS x MALE!READER (father-son relationship)

Words: 4.904

Warnings: SPOILER!!! DON'T READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED KINGSGLAIVE YET!!!

A/N: This was a request and it took me ages to finish it. I'm sorry for the long wait! I really hope you will like it! It was also my first time writing for Drautos so, I hope it suits him.

Synopsis: YN is a newbie in the rows of the Kingsglaive. Because Drautos sees some potential in the young man, he takes YN under his wings and sees in him more than just another soldier - rather a son.

The worst thing for Titus Drautos was to fail. Not to die. To fail. And as he lay there, in the dust, between the ruins of the formerly Jewelry of Lucis - Insomnia - the only thing he could think of was YN.

To send YN away was one thing. The only thing Drautos could do to keep the young man out of harm.

And nevertheless, the Captain had failed YN. Not as his Captain.

But as a Glaive, as a soldier and as a father.

***

As YN joined the Kingsglaive, he was scared. He was tough enough to get picked out to fight with the Glaives but no matter how tough he seemed to be, how great his ability was to handle the King's magic or how impressive his fighting skills were already - YN was feeling like a scared kid as he joined the committed group of soldiers.

Or, maybe, it was just Captain Titus Drautos who scared him. At least, this would be an understandable reason. Captain Drautos was a tall, impressive and proud man with broad shoulders, scars in his face and an ice cold demeanor. The stories that got told about Drautos were as impressive and honorable as his armor and sword.

With a strong hand and attitude, he led the Glaives fearlessly into fights against Niflheim. Every time, the unit was successful. The Captain was known for his mercilessness against his enemies when he fought for his oppressed home. YN had heard all these as rumors and since then, he felt intimidated even if he hadn't met the Captain yet.

"Listen, Glaives. Even if we live in peace at the moment, this can change at any time. So, all of you will train, train, train. I will team you up. Libertus and Pelna. Nyx and,", Drautos stopped and looked at YN. He was the new one. A guy who was compatible with the King’s magic. The Captain was about to pair him up with Nyx but then, he saw something in the guy's eyes that let him pause before he spoke up again, "Nyx and Furia.", he continued until everyone had a partner.

The room got cleared as the pairs left to start with the training. Just YN was left and with each passing second where the Captain stayed silent, he became more and more insecure. He waited patiently but as he saw Drautos even leaving the common room, YN swallowed and stepped forward, "Sir, I- I think you forgot me, Sir.", he said and cursed himself for sounding so insecure.

Drautos stopped in his tracks. A faint smirk on his lips before he pushed it aside to turn over to the new recruit with a stone cold expression, "First of all, one 'Sir' is enough and second, cut this shit.", he said serious, crossing his arms over his chest before he closed up on the young man to size him up. Once again, Drautos looked into YN's eyes and this time, like a thunderstruck, he recognized the feeling that got woken by the sight - home. Somehow, YN reminded him of his home. Even if the Captain couldn't grasp what exactly triggered this melancholic feeling, it was there. Drautos was already clinging to the past and now, to have someone in front of him who was a living reminder of everything he had lost as his home got attacked wasn't easy to endure. At the same time Drautos was hoping to feel more of this bittersweet pain that reminded him why he was fighting. He had lost so much - his family, his origin ... He even had lost the wish to raise an own family. And just like that, YN reminded him of a son he never had and he never will have.

"Uhm, what 'shit', Sir?", YN asked insecurely, and cursed himself once again.

By the soft sound of the man's voice, Drautos got dragged back into reality like an elastic band that got snapped back. He stepped forward, towering above YN, "This whole frightened behavior. Stop being insecure or whatever you do there. None of that will impress neither me nor the enemy. You're a Glaive now. Behave like one.", Drautos said serious.

YN swallowed thickly once again, "Yes, Sir.", he said and tried to sound more confident than before. YN already had nightmares about meeting the Captain for the first time but reality was something different - now, he couldn't wake up.

Drautos wasn't pleased about this weak behavior but he saw potential in this young man. Potential he had seen before in someone else - Nyx Ulric. Slowly, Drautos crossed the room, stopping at a handrail to look out at the training area, "I trained Ulric, one of my best fighter.", he said and watched how Nyx warped quickly from point to point to escape Furia who chased him.

YN was unsure what to do but on the other hand he was also curious how the training of the others looked like. He had heard almost as many things about Nyx as he had heard about the Captain. Stepping next to Drautos, YN watched how Nyx and Furia changed their roles and now, Furia escaped from Nyx over the area. Unfortunately, Furia made a small mistake and Nyx reached him quickly, attacking him from behind to bring him back to the ground. Before Furia could hit the ground, he threw his blade away and warped into safeness. YN watched them amazed. He knew he was good but this was a whole different level.

Drautos watched YN and how interested he seemed to be in the movesets and the skills. There was a hungry fire to learn these things in YN's eyes and so, Drautos made a decision, "I will train you."

YN was surprised and tried to hide it but it wasn't that easy as he just stared at the Captain.

"The training won't be easy. You have to show me that you really want this and if you can convince me, I will show you a few things and tricks."

**

"First training with the Captain, huh?", Nyx asked, leaning with crossed arms against the doorframe, watching the new recruit lying dead-like on a bench in the locker room drained in his own sweat.

Very slowly, YN turned his head to the new voice, recognizing him as Nyx Ulric, Drautos' former trainee. YN sat up and nodded, "Yeah... It was the hardest I ever did so far.", he admitted, rubbing the sore muscles in the back of his neck.

Nyx chuckled, walking over to him, "Oh, yeah. I know how you feel. I was in your position before.", he said and sat down on the bench, slowly opening his gloves.

"Captain Drautos told me about it that he trained you before me.", YN said and suddenly, he asked himself why the Captain had picked him out instead of someone else.

"Yeah... Listen, here's a tip. Drautos wants to test you. He wants to see what you're capable of. I learnt it the hard way but I'm thankful for everything he taught me. You gain his respect with blood, sweat and tears. Show him that you really want this and he will teach you a lot of things.", Nyx explained.

"Alright, yeah...but... Why me? He could have picked someone else.", YN asked frowning.

Nyx stood up, undressing his jacket while aiming for the door to leave, "I guess, he saw potential in you. Just watch out. Others might become jealous. I... Learned that, as well.", he said and left YN alone with his thoughts.

***

YN kept Nyx' advice in mind but on the other hand, Captain Drautos was demanding when it came to the training. And once again, YN asked himself what he got himself into as he laid on the ground, panting for air and with pain throbbing in his ribs from the latest punch Drautos had given him to send him on the mat.

"Get up! Again!", Drautos demanded, kicking against YN's shoe, waiting impatiently and still with his sword in his hands.

Slowly, YN got up on his feet, taking position in front of his Captain and raised his blades, getting ready for the Captain's next attack.

Drautos was impressed. He saw the fire in YN's eyes. He wanted to learn. Since the beginning of the week, Drautos put YN through the mill and the Glaive was still going. So, Drautos relaxed, satisfied with the result the new one had made so far, "Okay, it's enough."

"Captain?", YN asked confused, half expecting that it was just a trick.

Drautos stepped forward, placing his hand on YN's shoulder, "You did a good job the last days.", he said before turning around to leave a confused YN behind. Then, he stopped once again, "Take the day off, son."

Dumbfounded, YN watched after the leaving Captain and let his blades sink.

***

First, YN thought it was just a mistake by the Captain that he had called him 'son' but quickly he noticed that Drautos did it several times. Luckily, Drautos just did it when he and YN were alone. Because as Nyx had warned YN, others started to become jealous because of the bond between the newbie and the Captain.

Tredd Furia was the worst. Whenever the Captain was out of sight he tried to find ways to bully YN even if there was no reason to do that. YN was good with a bunch of Glaives. Nyx and his friends liked the new recruit and helped him from time to time while the Captain watched the scenes closely.

Drautos wouldn't intervene, but he observed how YN reacted. First, the boy was intimidated. The others were longer part of the Kingsglaive and YN didn't want to have problems with any one. But slowly, the longer the training with the Captain lastet the tougher YN became and he even talked back. The longer YN trained with him the more courage he got and Drautos was pleased with the result. In YN, he had found something he didn't even know that he was missing - an heir.

Drautos had called him 'son' by accident. The first time had just happened and as Drautos had noticed what he had said, it was already too late. But as he had heard himself saying it, Drautos noticed that it felt right. With Nyx, he had hoped he would have a confidant but the Galahdian was too strong minded with his own will.

YN seemed to be different. He was listening to Drautos. He was eager to learn from him and Drautos knew how to use that as an advantage for his own plans. Furia and his friends, also some others, were already on the Captain's side. They were following Drautos' plans and gave him back-up. But if YN would be on his side too, Drautos was sure to have more leverage on even more Glaives to get them on his side because he got liked by so many.

One evening, YN leant against the handrail and watched the setting sun. The sky, slightly sparkling with the magical shield created by the King, showed off beautiful colors. The clouds were illuminated by orange and red light which was an impressive contrast to the blue firmament. All in all it was a beautiful and peaceful sight to watch. It was this kind of peace YN and the other Glaives had sworn to protect and now, after all these weeks of training and time with the others, YN felt as one of them. Much to the thanks of Captain Drautos, who had helped him a lot.

Drautos walked over to YN, joining him at the handrail and also watched Insomnia in the light of the setting sun. He was about to introduce him into his plans as YN was faster and cut him off before he even could start.

"I want to thank you for everything you have done for me, Sir. I know I wasn't the quickest learner but you... You didn't give up on me. You showed me many unknown things and I... I will use them to protect all this as a dutifully Glaive. So, thank you, Captain.", YN said honestly and offered Drautos his hand.

Drautos, who stared at the young man, was kinda speechless. First, he took the man's kindly behavior as weakness but yet, it seemed to be his biggest strength because he was able to protect his kind heart against everything and everyone. And just like that, Drautos decided that he wanted something else more than to have YN on his side as just another ally. Titus Drautos wanted to protect this man he already had called son. YN was exactly like this: his son. And as such, Drautos felt the desire to shield him from any kind of harm. At least, as best as he could.

Finally, the Captain stepped forward, grabbing YN's hand to shake it, "You know, you weren't the worst trainee I ever had. You did a great job-"

The sudden sound of the siren let both men look up in surprise. It was the sound that Niflheim started a new attack on Insomnia's border.

*

Just five minutes later, everyone was suited and ready for departure. YN, who talked with Pelna about his first battle, got called back by the Captain, "Yes, Sir?", YN asked, slightly confused.

"Get into the car with Luche.", he just said, turned around and left to give a few more orders to others.

"Special treatment by the Captain, huh? Well, not everyone is this blessed.", Pelna said half jokingly, half annoyed and left YN behind.

YN was confused but obeyed. He followed Luche to the Captain’s car and entered it. A few minutes later, the konvoi hit the road to the battlefield.

As YN saw the wall and the area behind it for the first time, he was flashed. Ruins, sand, destruction: there was nothing beautiful in this place anymore. In the distance, Niflheim shuttles were in sight. The first infantry followed by demons got released and the Glaives got sent to stop them.

Helplessly, YN just watched the scene to his feet because Drautos demanded from him to stay where he was, by the Captain’s side.

Drautos observed the battle from a safe distance to give new orders. Crowe and some others casted a fire tornado to defeat the Niff's but no matter what they did, it wasn't enough to keep the enemy at bay.

"Luche! The Glaives shall retreat and regroup!", Drautos ordered.

"Sir, what shall I do?", YN asked, watching the scene in concern.

Drautos hadn't forgotten him but still, he felt the urgency to protect this guy even if he knew that it wasn’t fair to the others. So, the Captain turned around as he had made a decision, "YN, I need you somewhere else. I have another mission for you."

**

Everything seemed to be a mess. The Glaive had lost a few men, everyone seemed to be down even if Niflheim had retreated itself from Insomnia again. YN wanted to help and yet, he was helpless. All the training he had had with the Captain just to stay back and to do nothing? For YN it wasn't fair that his comrades had risked their lives while he had just watched them from a safe spot.

So, as they were back in the headquarters of the Glaive, YN ignored his manners and some rules as he stormed into the office of the Captain. The door slammed into the wall and bounced back on his way in what caught Drautos' attention. He was indeed surprised to see this fiery glance in the young man's eyes.

"Why did I have to stay back? All the training you did with me for- what? To let me watch how the others get killed? I thought you would trust me. You said I'm good so why couldn't I fight with the others?", YN called out angrily, clenching his hands into fists.

Drautos was both: shocked and surprised. Shocked because no one ever dared to speak with him like this and surprised because he never expected YN to react emotionally in such a way just because he couldn't fight. The Captain recovered quickly, crossed the room and slammed the door shut, "Glaive, this is not a suitable behavior in front of your Captain.", Drautos said serious with as much authority as he could.

YN eyed the taller and older man and scoffed, "I don't care about suitable behavior! I didn't sign up to become a Glaive just to watch the others die! I should have been on the battlefield as well but you held me back!"

Drautos notices how anger rose inside of him that YN was talking back to him this easily but on the other hand, he was extremely proud, "And as I already told you, I need you for something else! And for this task, I'm sorry to say that, but I need you alive for it! That's why I didn't send you into the fight!", Drautos said serious and watched how YN relaxed a little bit, "So, calm down and listen to what your next task will be."

***

Crowe and YN stood at the same corner in the outskirts of Insomnia. Dust and sand was already covering them as Crowe turned her head over to YN, "So, I guess our paths are dividing now. Stay safe.", she said and smiled softly.

"You, too. Watch out, the streets could be dangerous when you're all alone.", YN said and smiled encouragely.

"You know me. No one will try to touch me. I see you later.", Crowe said and nodded one last time as YN put on the helmet and started his engine to drive down the opposite street she had to take.

Now and then, YN looked back through the rearview mirrors of his bike to Crowe's position but after a while, he couldn't see anything else than dunes and he just hoped that his friend would stay safe so he would see her back in the Crown's City. YN continued his way to a meeting point somewhere near Hammerhead, which was strange in the first place but the Captain had made it clear that everything was extremely secret. As secret as Crowe's mission because YN also had no idea what her task had been.

As YN reached the meeting point, no one else was to be seen. So, he waited because the Captain had made it clear that YN had to wait till the contact person would arrive. The person would carry something important for the king and therefore, it was of exceptional urgency for YN to wait till he got the certain item, contract or whatever it was because this was the only information YN hadn't gotten from Drautos, what it was YN should bring back. He had a name, a description of the guy and the meeting point and still, YN had the feeling that something was odd. Mostly, because the Captain couldn't tell him when this ominous man would appear.

Impatiently, YN walked up and down, waiting for hours for the informant to arrive. On the radio, he heard about the peace treaty between Niflheim and Insomnia and even for him, it sounded odd. Insomnia had fought so long for their resistance against Niflheim and now, the King was just obeying the request of the enemy? And why were they even discussing anything when the Glaive had defeated the opponent in the last battle?

YN had a bunch of questions and the longer he had to wait, the more questions popped up in his mind.

Maybe the ceremony was just an intelligent trick by the King to gain some more time until YN would arrive with whatever he had to receive? For YN, this was the only explanation. Whatever was in the package he had to get, it was something important to save Insomnia against Niflheim.

Then, Niflheim attacked Insomnia and YN was still waiting. It was a torture. The informant took his time to arrive and YN had to wait because of Drautos’ order. It demanded YN's willpower just to wait and to listen to the radio to hear how his home, or at least the closest thing to a home, got attacked by the enemy he had sworn to defeat with his life.

As the informant finally arrived, YN just took the package, jumped on his bike and drove as fast as he could back to Insomnia but as he closed up on the wall, he already saw the destructions, the fires spreading through the Diamond of Lucis and thick columns of smoke were erupting to the sky. YN noticed the Niflheim ships hovering above the city and only then, he saw that the wall was gone. The wall, built and fed by the King's magic was gone - gone like the King?

Quickly, YN tried to find a way back into the city but it was almost not possible. The streets were flooded with people who tried to escape the living hell while he tried to get in. As YN reached the end of the road because there was no road anymore, he left the bike and stepped forward as far as he could to look at all the ruins Insomnia had been once.

A single tear was rolling down YN's cheeks which he wiped away violently, crying wouldn't help anyone. Maybe the fight was still going, YN just had to find a way in. He was just about to walk down a fragile path as someone drew him back the second a huge piece of debris was falling down.

"YN! What are you doing here? Where have you been?", Libertus called out as both men looked at each other.

"Sorry, Libertus, but I have no time for smalltalk. I have to bring this package to the King. It's important.", YN said, stood up and was about to go again but Libertus held him back once again.

"You can't go in there. I mean... there is no in there anymore!"

"What do you mean?", YN asked angrily, pulling his arm out of the man’s grip.

"Hell, have you been sleeping during the past few days? Niflheim had attacked Insomnia! The King is dead! And the peace treaty was just a trap. Even Drautos had deceived us! Nyx was fighting against him until... until-", Libertus stopped because he couldn't still accept the end of his friend. Of all his friends.

"The King... is dead?", YN whispered in shock but as his brain processed the rest of the information, he drew his brows together, "What do you mean with 'Drautos had deceived us'?"

Libertus scoffed, "Drautos was on Niflheim’s side all the time. He was just waiting for the right moment to show his true face."

"No! That can't be right. You're wrong! It's still our Captain you're talking about."

"Ha! Our Captain! Maybe this liar is still your Captain but he wasn't mine anymore since Crowe got killed on her escorting mission-"

"C-Crowe got killed? She- she's dead?", YN whispered in shock. His head was spinning with all the new information.

"Yes, Crowe is dead. She died because of King Regis and Draut- oh, you know what? I call him by his real name. I guess, he was proud to be General Glauca. Being the General of the troops of Niflheim."

"No... No! I don't believe you! You make this up because you also were one of them who were jealous because of the bond the Captain and I had-"

"Jealous? Me? Because you and the Captain had a strange father-son bond going on? What?", Libertus asked as he saw YN's expression, "You thought no one ever had noticed when Drautos had called you 'son'?", Libertus asked amused with a smirk.

"I just... I- where is he now? And where's Nyx and the others?", YN asked, looking around for the hero or Pelna who wouldn't be far away from Libertus.

Libertus' expression darkened once again, "Well, I'm not sure about Pelna but I guess, he's dead like all the others. Murdered by some traitors who had gathered around General Glauca-"

"Don't call him that!", YN defended the broken honor of his former Captain - or still Captain? Even YN became confused.

"It doesn't matter anyway how you will call him because he's dead by now."

"Dead?", YN called out.

"Yes, dead! He died! He's gone! He's no longer alive! Because that's what people like him deserve. Nyx had fought against Glauca to give Lu- to provide some of us the time to leave the city.", Libertus explained, raging with anger as he thought once again about his friend who had sacrificed himself.

"Nyx? Wait- where is he?", YN asked but as he watched Libertus' reaction, he already knew the answer without hearing it.

There was nothing else one of them could say. It wasn't that words would change anything of what had happened. Not one single word would bring back anyone - no matter if good or bad. They were all dead. Everyone YN had considered his family during the last weeks had died. Insomnia was destroyed. The King was gone. The Prince was wherever. There was nothing left but destruction, pain and death.

Slowly, YN slumped down on his knees, too weak and too sad to keep standing up. He knew Drautos would hate it to see him like this. But he wasn't there anymore to complain. YN realized that his mentor was gone and just like that, YN was alone again. YN never had a real father figure in his life. His own dad had died as he was too young to understand anything. And now, the only person that was like a dad to him had left him as well. But YN wasn't just sad. He also was mad about himself - if he hadn't left Insomnia, if he had disobeyed the orders - maybe he could have helped Drautos by whatever plan he had had in mind. Maybe he could even have stopped the Captain to save him.

"Hey, newbie! What's even in this package you carried with you?", Libertus asked and nudged the small package with the toe of his shoe.

"Nothing of your concern, Libertus.", YN answered and picked the package from the ground. Libertus shrugged with his shoulders and went away without another word. YN watched his former friend and as he was out of sight, YN turned the package over and over in his hands. Something was moving around in it. YN was about to open the package and stopped before he chuckled low because he still had his Captain's voice in his ears. But his mentor was gone and so, there was no one left who could YN interrupt in opening the package. Carefully, YN loosened the tape and opened the flaps just to stare disbelievingly into the cardboard box. With a shaking hand, YN took the item and the paper out of it. He had no idea what exactly he had expected to find in the package but certainly not one of Drautos' medals.

Drautos got the medal from King Regis as a reward for his excellent work with the Kingsglaive. YN had seen it countless times glittering proudly on Drautos' chest. Now, it laid in YN's open palm and was sparkling in the soft light of the rising sun. YN took the paper and unfold it just to find the Captain's neat handwriting on it which said:

YN,

I won't make this too emotional. Yes, you will hear a lot of things about me and yes, they're all true. There's no need to lie anymore. I had a vision. I wanted to know that my homeland is safe - a wish every single one of us has! I wanted my people safe and Regis wasn't able to provide this security therefore, I had to do something else. I won't justify my actions. Not in front of you nor someone else. I regret nothing. I considered making you part of my plans but as you can see, I decided against it. Maybe it's a sign of my weakness that I saw something like a son in you. But maybe, if I don't make it, you can try to fight for my homeland to be safe. I promise, you will find a home there as well. You did a great job, son

Titus

YN let the letter sink. His head was occupied with different thoughts. His heart was filled with different emotions. But there were no tears running down his cheeks - because they would be just signs of weakness Drautos hated to see. There was no hatred - because YN knew Drautos had had his reasons to act how he did. And there was no disappointment because the Captain did not deserve it.

YN felt proud that he had met this man who had seen enough in him to train him. The Captain had supported him as no one else was there for him. And no matter what Libertus had said, for YN Titus Drautos would always be the honorable Captain of the Kingsgliave.

YN looked down at the medal and swore that he would fight for the Captain's homeland and for his good name to endure for evermore.

Because, even if he wasn't the real one, YN felt like the son of Titus Drautos and was proud about it.

YN would defend Drautos’ legacy.

[makeste]

I’ve just realised it’s been over a year since you last listed your top 10 characters! Has anything changed since then?

a lot has changed! actually, every single ranking has changed from last time except for one (which you can probably guess, lol).

1. Bakugou (previous rank: 1)

yes, believe it or not, Bakugou is still my favorite. I’ll understand if you all need a moment to recuperate from the shock of this.

2. Deku (previous rank: 4)

hi, so. I really love Deku a lot. I think he is a great character and there’s a lot of subtlety and complexity to him that he doesn’t always get credit for. he is loving and kind, but he’s not a pushover. he has moments of deer-in-headlights anxiety when he’s in the spotlight or talking to celebrities (or girls), but then he’ll go and launch into a five-hour speech if someone mentions a topic he’s interested in. he’s very much aware of the huge burden that’s been placed on his shoulders, and is struggling to figure out how to become his own person (which is fucking hard, you guys; how many sixteen-year-olds do you know who have a solid, firm idea of who they are as a person and what it is about themselves that makes them unique individuals?) while still living up to All Might’s legacy. he’s smart and determined and capable of extraordinary things, but second-guesses himself and has a tendency to overthink everything he does. he is interesting!! and he doesn’t always get credit for being interesting! but he is! anyways Deku ilu.

3. Aizawa (previous rank: 2)

still the best. still so tired. the manga is tripling down lately on highlighting how awesome he is. childhood angst and guilt and trauma?? yes. kicking lots of ass?? hell yes. being outrageously sexy with his floating wavy hair and glowy red eyes and spending almost this entire arc in Eraser Mode while Horikoshi hopes to god no one remembers how he made it a Whole Thing after USJ that Aizawa supposedly couldn’t hold his quirk for long periods like that anymore?? oh, you bet. who is even gonna complain about it. you?? I sure am not. and last but not least, being the greatest dad in the world who’s willing to stab god in the face in order to stay alive to protect his children and continue to watch them grow?? fam. you goddamn know that is a YES WITH CAPITAL LETTERS. how can one character honestly be so great. how can he even contain it. he’s so powerful.

4. Todoroki (previous rank: 5/6)

Ochako slid all the way off my top ten list and I feel so bad about it. but she hasn’t had the spotlight for a long time, and meanwhile Shouto has had what feels like ARC AFTER ARC of being awesome and doing awesome things like becoming Bakugou’s Undisputed Best Friend, having the longest and purest canon romantic relationship in the series (I am of course talking about him/soba), and playing a key role in one of the most beautifully executed family arcs I have ever seen, with his conflicted feelings about his father that are so layered that THEIR LAYERS HAVE LAYERS. and meanwhile his quirk kicks as much ass as ever. remember that one time Shouto almost burned Tetsutetsu alive. remember that other time he fucking annihilated Ending (“GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER”)?! and meanwhile he remains the goodest and purest child in the entire series, making sure Mt. Lady’s heart is okay, and offering his two friends internships without a second’s hesitation because THAT’S WHAT FRIENDS DO. it’s just what they do you guys.

5. Hawks (previous rank: n/a! welcome to the top ten kiddo.)

OH NO I LOVE A MURDERER WHAT A STUNNING INDICTMENT OF ME. send me off to jail. anyway so I have always liked Hawks, but the latest arc has sent him skyrocketing up through the ranks of my heart. not because of the murder thing, but... okay well but actually, it is because of the murder thing though. NOT BECAUSE I’M HAPPY HE KILLED A GUY WE ALL LOVED, jesus, but because of how well Horikoshi portrayed his struggle over it. he didn’t want to do it!! but he ended up having to in the end, and he paid one hell of a heavy price for it. and listen, but if you give me a character who is smart, who is compassionate, and who is one of the most mentally and physically capable characters we’ve seen in the series and yet simultaneously does not have even the slightest ounce of regard or self-preservation for his own mental health? a character who is tired, who is willing to make sacrifices up to and including the ultimate sacrifice for what he believes is the greater good? a character who is achingly alone and isolated in so much of what he has to go through, who doesn’t dare drop his guard ever, who’s not able or willing to share his burdens with anyone else? if you give me a character like that, and then ask me not to love him, it’s like. I am very sorry but I truly have no say in it at this point. he’s adopted. I’m sorry it’s the law.

6. Tomura (previous rank: n/a)

OH NO I LOVE TWO MURDERERS WHAT EVEN IS WRONG WITH ME. hahaha. so in between the time of now and when I last did a character ranking, Tomura had a flashback! and it was very traumatic! he was little and sweet and his dad was a dick and there was a lot of blood and gore and a dog died!! and then AFO was all “HELLO IT’S ME COME TO SWOOP IN AND ADOPT YOU AND ENCOURAGE YOU TO KILL STUFF AND ALSO HERE ARE YOUR DEAD FAMILY’S SEVERED BODY PARTS TO ADORN YOURSELF WITH SO YOU NEVER STOP FEELING MISERABLE.” and everyone sitting there reading was all, “well I’ll just come out and say it, I can sort of understand why he became a murderer now,” and we all agreed that yes, it did indeed make a great deal of sense, when you put it that way. anyway, so obviously you can’t not feel empathy toward the kid after all that, even if he is going around killing A WHOLE LOT MORE people now, and has basically gone batshit insane actually. I remain steadfast in my conviction that Tomura is not the actual final villain -- AFO is. and call me crazy, but in spite of everything, I still think this kid has a shot at redemption. it won’t be pretty, and it’ll be a long, long path, and he might not ever fully make it all the way, but he’s someone who’s been manipulated and used as a puppet his entire life, and I want him to have the chance to finally break free from that. hopefully he’ll get it.

7. Mirko (previous rank: n/a)

so previously this section just said “MIRKO!!!!!”, which I honestly think sums it up pretty well. I honestly can’t think of any other character who has come along and just slapped me straight across the face with their sheer awesomeness as much as her, though. every time she’s onscreen/on the page my face is just a huge grin the entire time. she is fearless. like, she’s the type of person who actually does laugh in the face of danger -- like that’s not just an expression, she will LITERALLY LAUGH. she is Peter Pan with a dagger to his throat, smiling and saying “to die would be an awfully big adventure.” she is someone who’s found her purpose in life and is thriving. Mirko has no time for your existential angst; she’s too busy kicking ass every minute of every hour of every day. I love her so, so much. thank you so much Horikoshi for being obsessed with her and making her the biggest badass in the whole series.

8. All Might (previous rank: 3)

I still adore him! he just has had next to nothing to do for what seems like forever, so the other characters who are still getting steady development are kind of just sneaking past him one by one. but he is still the absolute best. he cares so much. so, so, so, so much. he’s not always the most natural when it comes to being a teacher or a mentor, and he stumbles and makes mistakes, but he loves his kids. he cares about them so fiercely. and that’s far and away the most important thing, and it’s not even close. and he’s also just so endlessly self-sacrificing and constantly putting everyone else before himself, and it’s insane. he’s someone who is just constantly thinking, “how can I do more, how can I help more, what else can I do to try and make the world better” even as he stumbles along with half a lung, and struggles with his feelings of inadequacy and helplessness and feeling like it’s just still not enough. I want to give All Might the biggest hug in the world and tell him that it’s all right, that he did good, that the kids are going to be all right. when Aizawa told him “you being alive is enough” I almost had a breakdown tbh. anyway if I keep going I’m gonna talk myself into moving him back up the list and then I’ll have to rearrange this whole thing lol so suffice it to say, fuck yeah All Might.

9. Momo (previous rank: 7)

when is Momo gonna do more stuff, Horikoshi?? huh??! he does realize that whenever she does stuff it’s always amazing?? so why is she not just constantly doing amazing, awesome stuff all the time?? I don’t know, and frankly I’ve had just about enough of this. let Momo do stuff 2020. but I won’t talk about this anymore for now because I haven’t ready any chapter 278 spoilers and I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

(ETA: I HAVE READ CHAPTER 278 NOW AND ALL I CAN SAY IS YESSSSS!!! MOMO!!!! also I swear to god I genuinely had not seen any spoilers when I was writing this post lol, it was a total coincidence. I’m glad the “let Momo do stuff 2020″ campaign was so immediately successful though.)

10. Kaminari (previous rank: 8)

last but not least, my five-and-a-half-year-old traitor son, Kaminari Denki. he is just such a shining beam of light and life and goodness and chaos. there is this amazingly buoyant energy whenever he’s on the page that just fills me with love for him. I constantly just want to ruffle his hair, just, all the damn time. he is everybody’s friend, he loves them all so much, and he fearlessly calls Bakugou “Kacchan” heedless of the repercussions (OF WHICH THERE WERE NONE!!), and he sincerely tells Jirou that he’s in awe of her musical talents, and he wrecked his fingers learning to play guitar for her but he was happy to do it, and he was afraid to fight in the big ALL THE VILLAINS VS ALL THE HEROES battle because DUH!?! but he still did it anyway because he had to protect his friends. and his quirk and its side effects are constantly used for comic relief and not taken seriously at all (even though it’s actually insanely powerful holy shit), but he doesn’t care because he’s happy to make his friends happy. he’ll willingly be the butt of the joke if it means he gets to see them laugh. he just has such a big heart, and in all seriousness, if you think he’s the traitor I just don’t even know what to say to you.

so that’s it! Tokoyami, Ochako, Shinsou, Iida, and Sero would probably be the next five, with Endeavor, Toga, Mina, Jirou, and Mirio rounding out the top twenty. maybe not in that exact order but it’s close enough. really there are only like three characters in the series I actually truly dislike, so I’m honestly glad “top ten” is the general standard otherwise I’d be here all night running through them all lol.

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty & The Beast of New York - Ch. 18

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: You love biology. The study of life excites you. But you hate people. Especially the ones that like to stick their nose in your business. Too bad the King of Brooklyn didn’t get the memo.

WARNINGS: Light Depictions of Gore. Mentions of Child Abuse. 

MASTERLIST

An Eye for an Eye

You hiss at first contact with the alcohol wipe against your chin. 

“It’s deeper than it looks,” Steve stated, gently dabbing at the dried blood.

“Can you not press on it so hard?” 

“I gotta clean it, babe, or it’ll get worse,” he replies, his motions growing faster.

“But it hurts,” you whine. 

Steve rolls his eyes affectionately. “What are you two or twenty-two?”

“Don’t sass me, Rogers,” you warn him with a lovely pout. 

He chuckles in reply. “I wouldn’t even dare.” 

He throws the stained wipe into the trash bin and begins searching through the box of bandaids for a size suitable to cover the wound. 

Your eyes fall onto the newspaper, left on his desk in a hurry, and frowned.

“They’ve painted me as if I’m some whore,” you said. “Like I’m your mistress or something.” 

Steve stops his searching and frowns. “You know that’s not true,” he shakes his head. 

“I know,” you mumbled, “but the rest of the world doesn’t know that.” 

He lifts your chin with his hand. “Hey, don’t worry, alright? I’ll fix this,” he assures. “Everything’s gonna be fine and as time passes it’ll pass as well.” 

You smile with a nod, believing in him. 

“Quentin called,” you told him. 

Steve groans audibly, ripping the band-aid open. 

“He says, he’s going to break your pretty nose if he ever sees you again,” you informed him with a smug grin. 

He shakes his head in amusement. “Is my nose really that pretty?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “I think it’s kinda cute.” 

“I’ll make sure to never run into him again,” he pledges, aligning the bandage with the cut on your jaw. “Still don’t get why he hates me so much.”

“I think it has something to do with stealing away his best friend.” 

He shrugs his arms smugly. “Not my fault, he should’ve done a better job at keeping watch. Did he really think I was gonna let a girl as pretty as her slip out of my fingers?”

You punch him lightly on the chest. “You flatter me, really.” 

His chuckles fill the air as he presses his palms to either side of your seat on his desk and leans in close. “It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he crooned. 

You fall shy by his words, but not shy enough to not return his affection with a sweet kiss on the lips. You part from him and it leaves him hungry for more. He cups the side of your face in his hand and pulls you closer for another kiss. He stops when he hears his phone ring. 

He pulls it out of his pocket to find a message from Natasha. 

Found something. You know where to find me.

Steve’s jaw tightens as he slips the phone back into his pocket. He gives you an easy smile then a kiss. 

“I’ve gotta go,” he grabs his jacket off the chair by the fire. 

“Where are you going?” you asked, getting off his desk. 

“Nowhere, just some unfinished business,” he puts his jacket on while making his way to the front door. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Before he leaves he turns to you and takes your hands in his. 

“I want you to stay here until I figure things out. Do me a favor and try to relax?” he suggests, “It’s been a long day. Watch a movie and empty my fridge if you’d like.” 

You laugh at his words. “You act like I won’t do that already.” 

He opens the door behind him. “I’ll see you later.” 

Just before he leaves, you reach up and give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Be safe.”

It was dusk by the time Steve reached the warehouse in the Bronx. Parking his car, he walks out to find Natasha waiting for him at the door. 

She gives him her signature smirk and a wave as he walks up to her. 

"How is Y/N?" she asks, entering the desolate building. 

"She's fine,” Steve informs. "Just a bit tired." 

Nat shoots a devilish grin in his direction. "I see you two have been getting along rather nicely,” she teases, "compared to before that is." 

"I don't know, maybe it has something to do with her being my girlfriend now?" he retorts with a playful lilt to his voice. 

Nat shrugs indifferently and shakes her head. "Still don't know how you managed to do it,” she cackled. "Personally, I find you unappealing,” she deadpans, opening the door to a room. "but hey? There's someone for everyone. Am I right?" 

Steve sighs deeply as he enters. "Some days you can be such a jerk." 

The room is sparse with nothing more than a single light hanging from the ceiling and a man tied to a chair in the center. He twists and turns in his chair, shouting incoherent words that were muffled by the duct tape plastered along his lips. 

She chortles at his remark. "I feel like you wanted to use a much stronger word." 

Steve smirks at the sight before him then turns to Natasha with a dashing smile. 

"I'm a gentleman, Natasha, and I treat women with respect." 

She rolls her eyes. "As charming as ever, Rogers,” she replies, yanking the tape of the man’s mouth mercilessly. His face stretches in pain from the sudden burn on his skin. 

"YOU ASSHOLES HAD ME TIED UP IN A WAREHOUSE FOR FIVE HOURS,” Pietro shouts at the two. 

Steve laughs heartily before taking his jacket off. 

Natasha brings her hands together. “Now that we’re all here. I suggest we get started,” she proposes, her skin glowing with excitement. This was her favorite part of being in the mob. 

"Ladies first,” Steve motions towards her and then to Pietro. 

"Hi, nice to meet you. My name is Natasha,” she introduces herself to Pietro. 

"I know who you are,” he snarls at her. He looks up at Steve fearlessly.  "You're the kingpin." 

"My friend and I would like to talk to you about your crimes against the Brooklyn Mob,” Natasha states. 

Pietro looks at them as if they’re crazy. He whips his head back and forth between the two like a mad man.

"Crimes? Against the Brooklyn Mob? You've gotta be fucking joking me!” he shouts "Let me go! I did nothing wrong!" He shakes violently in his chair. 

The two ignore his cries and continue. 

"Number One: Defamation of Character,” Natasha states. 

"I hope you've realized this but my "mistress" isn't a mistress,” Steve informs Pietro, rolling up his sleeves so he doesn’t get them dirty. He looks down at Pietro and his jaw tightens at the sight of him. He feels like ripping the boy’s head off. 

Pietro gulps involuntarily at his words. He knows he’s not going to get out of this one. His eyes boldly meet Steve’s but fall quickly. “She's my girlfriend and a top student at Columbia. So your garbage publication can be rather damaging for her future,” he jeers. 

"I didn't write the article!" Pietro explains. "I just gave the information!" 

"To who?" Steve takes a step closer to him. 

"I don't know who he was,” he shakes his head. "I met him at some bar. I swear. I didn’t do anything,” he rambles frantically. 

"I want a name, now,” Steve grits. 

"I don't remember his name,” Pietro repeats harshly. 

Steve’s fist connects with Pietro's jaw. He groans from the pain. Without a warning, Steve punches him again, this time in the center of his face, then another at his left. 

Blood pools inside of Pietro’s mouth as he sees stars in his vision.

"Stop!” he groans, “I think–I think it was Strucker,” he wails. "He's this bald guy with a scar on his face. I didn't know he would blow it up like this." 

Steve turns to Natasha and asks her a question with his eyes. 

You know who he’s talking about?

She shakes her head then continues. 

"Two: Obstruction of Privacy." 

"You had the gall to take pictures of us and spread them all over the city,” Steve barked, slamming his fist straight into his nose. 

The sharp sound of cracking bone bounces off the walls of the room. The only one that winces is Pietro himself. His head drops forward and he takes painfully heavy breaths, his mind spinning from all the blows. 

“Three: Exploitation." 

Steve holds his chin and yanks him forward harshly. Pietro whimpers in his grasp. Blood drips from the corner of his busted lip. Splotches of purple and blue cover his once clear pale skin. 

"You used my girl for a bit of extra cash,” Steve growls at him. “You put her on the map for everyone to see. How does it feel knowing you’ve put an innocent woman in danger?” 

Pietro looks at the kingpin through half-lidded eyes. His lips form a weak smile and it only pisses Steve off more. “Did you really think you could keep her hidden forever?” he drawls, “If I didn’t do it, someone else would.”  

Steve pushes him back. “And now that you have, I think you deserve retribution for your services.” 

Nat takes a step forward. She takes his bruised face into her hand and turns it left to right, examining Steve’s work. She stands straight and makes her edict. "After being found guilty by the representative of the mob, I allow Mr. Rogers to do with you as he pleases." 

Steve smiles wickedly. He kicks Pietro’s chair and it hits the wall, keeping him at a slant. 

"Wait! Stop!” He fights against his restraints as Steve hovers over him. “I'm sorry!" 

"You know what they say,” Steve said, tongue dripping with venom, eyes red like a demon’s.  

“An eye for an eye." 

Steve shuffles quietly in the garage, toeing off his shoes, he enters the house and heads straight for the laundry room. 

He takes off his bloodied shirt, throws it in the hamper, and grabs a fresh one from the closet of the room. Pulling it on, he exits the room and glides along the marble tiles of the manor. 

He follows the sounds of low murmurs and flashing lights of the television coming from the living room. The image he finds is more than endearing. You’re snuggled deep into the couch with Lucky digging into your side and a blanket over the both of you. 

Steve walks over, mindful to keep his movements quiet. He turns off the television then lifts the blanket gently. Lucky jolts quickly, growling lowly at the dark figured man. 

Steve chuckled quietly, calming the dog down. “Shh, Lucky, it’s just me,” he scratches the fur around his chin. The puppy yips quietly and jumps off the couch. “Good boy.” 

Steve slid his arms underneath you and took you into his arms. Lucky follows closely behind him as he walks out of the room and up the stairs. Moonlight streams through the grand windows that run along the curve of the grand staircase, casting a nightly shade onto your sleeping form. 

He walks into one of the many spare rooms and tries to lift the blankets to put you in. “Sorry for manhandling you,” he whispers while gently placing you on the bed. Lucky hops onto the bed from the other side and takes his spot next to you. 

“What about me?” Steve whined. 

Lucky simply shimmies closer to you, making Steve grunt indignantly. 

“Some “man’s best friend” you are.” 

Your footsteps grow heavy with every step up the stairs towards the house. Reciting a silent prayer, you open the squeaking front door and walk inside. 

Your lips curl into a grin when you find the living room empty. You tiptoe your way up the stairs to your room. 

“Where have you been?” 

A gruff, mean voice comes from behind you, making you stop in your tracks. You turn around slowly, heartbeat steadily increasing. 

Your father stands at the end of the stairs. A can of beer in one hand with the other holding onto the banister. His hair was messy, his flannel shirt unbuttoned to show his white undershirt underneath. Paint stained his washed-out blue jeans along with his boots. He lifts a brow at you, expecting an answer. 

“I-I missed the bus today,” you explained. “So I had to walk.” 

“Bullshit,” he growls.“You’re lying to me, aren’t you? You think you can fool me?” he barks, throwing the can away. 

Your eyes shut tight at the sound of the metal rattling against the floor. 

“I’m telling the truth,” you insisted, body shaking under his icy gaze. He pulls you down the steps roughly by the arm. You almost slip by the way he tugs on your arm. 

“You were with that boy again, weren’t you?” he asked, slamming you against the wall. 

“I wasn’t,” you shake your head, eyes plagued with fear. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him?” he scolded. 

“But he’s my friend,” you whimper under him. 

“You don’t need friends,” he hurls. The thick smell of cheap beer lingers in his mouth. “You don’t need anyone.” His grip on your wrist grows tighter.

You tug at his hand over yours, tears brimming at the edge of your eyes. “Please stop,” you choke out, “It hurts.” 

He takes your face into his hand and brings it close to his. “Listen here, you little bitch, when I tell you to come home on time. I mean on time,” he spat, “If I ever find you late again or with that boy, I will not be nice.” 

Your jaw tightens to keep yourself from screaming as tears start to stream down your cheeks. Your eyes part from his and catch the opened front door, tempting you to make a risky decision. You weren’t bold enough to retaliate against him. But with freedom only a few feet away, you had to take a chance. 

You bite the hand holding your face making him curse in pain and dash towards the door. Only to be pulled back by your backpack. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he barks, veins popping out of his skin. “You think you can get away?” he turns you around and shakes you violently. His face was red and all up in yours. “You can try running away all you want, but in the end, you’re coming right back to me,” he grits, emphasizing each word. “No matter where you go, I will find you!” 

You jolt quickly in bed, heaving deep breaths. You rub your face with your hands and sit still, trying to take even breaths to calm the rapid beat of your heart. 

It was just a dream. 

He’s gone. 

He’s not coming back. 

A soft whimper rises from your left and you turn to find Lucky by your side You smile at him and cup his face into your hands. “I’m fine, buddy.” You slip out of the bed and motion him to follow you. 

“Let’s go find, Stevie,” you whisper, opening the door and walking into the hall. Your footsteps are soft, careful to not make the floorboards creak. They don’t do that in this house and even if they did no one would yell at you for it, but habits are hard to forget. 

You open the door to Steve’s room slowly, hoping it wouldn’t wake him. Tiptoeing your way over to his sleeping form, you gently tap his arm. 

"Steve," you whisper, shaking his arm. "Steve?" 

His eyes flutter open. "Huh?” he whispers groggily, propping himself up with his elbow. “Y/N, is everything all right?" 

You tug and twist the end of your shirt, completely red. "Is it okay, if I sleep with you?" you asked, "I-I don't want to be alone right now. It’s just this house is too big and—” 

"I don’t mind." he smiles with sleepy eyes. 

You smile before running over to the other side of the bed and getting under the covers. You scoot over to him, closer than he was expecting, and snuggle deep into his side. A light blush forms on his cheeks and he’s thankful that the room is dark. You take his free arm and wrap it around yourself. 

"Good night," you mumble against his shoulder. 

He chuckles, getting himself comfortable, lips brushing against your forehead. "Sweet dreams,” he wishes before pressing a soft kiss to your head.  

The rest of your dreams that night were far sweeter than most others. 

TAGLIST (CLOSED): @ashwarren32 @rootcrop @siriusement @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha @calwitch @chuckennuggets1213 @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @littlebees-things @voltage-my2dlove @booktease21 @rinkashirikitateku @harleyscheekheart @allegra-writes @iced-capsicle @eliza5616 @bookgirlunicorn @murdermornings @fckdeusername​ @illbethethundertoyourlightning @kaetastic @windshieldlaughjin @mccrps @undiadeestos

[all-hallows-evie]

Athenaeum: 7

Warnings: Canon typical Violence is coming into play this chapter, mentions of blood, capture and WORST OF ALL:...I cant write fight scenes for crap. LOL

A/N:...so yeah...shit’s hitting the fan this chapter...not sorry about it, lol

***

Two months come and go and every time a ship lands near the outskirts you feel your heart clench. You did him rotten, what you did was unfair. He was trying to be kind but just like you always do, you ruin it.

You fall back into your daily routine: sorting, mindlessly storing away information that may never be needed again, but the kid is always at the back of your mind no matter how hard you try to push him away.

You hope he is okay.

You hope he is managing to slip through the Empire's grip as whispers begin to turn to murmurs. The Empire is rising from the ashes, attempting to be reborn, but this time it is darker. You can feel it in the atmosphere, the darkness that had clouded the sky during the reign of Darth Vader was starting to clog everything again.

You are terrified for the kid. Maker knows why the Empire wants him, but it is never a good thing to be wanted by the Empire in a way like that; a need so fierce they would be willing to burn down entire towns to find you.

The sun has just set on the horizon and the lamps all around are warming up their golden glow. You sit on an all too familiar duracrete wall, a cup of steaming tea in your hands.

The small girl from the pack of children approaches you with caution, she pushes a long strand of straight auburn hair behind her ear, "When will the baby be back?" She asks fearlessly. 

Your lips press into a line, "I don't know."

"Do you think it will be soon? We miss him."

"I hope so." You respond before you bring the cup to your lips, the hot water burns your tongue. 

The little girl seems satisfied, but disappointed with your answer and sighs before returning to the group. Her little shoulders dropping low, the chorus of “awwww” comes from the other children a few feet away.

You spend the night watching them play in the streets and making polite conversation with anyone who approaches you. You congratulate a newly wed couple as they uncomfortably ask if you might know of anything in your collection that might help them with their first child. You smile and ask them to come see you tomorrow afternoon, you'll be sure to get them what they need. "A gift." You respond when they look at each other nervously, unsure of what they could offer in trade, "We need more innocence in this world."

The moon is high in the sky by the time you wander back to your home. You catch yourself holding the spot on your chest where the child would lay his head when he was here, wrapped tightly against your body, tuckered out after a long night of play.

Sleep evades you that night. 

Something about tonight was bringing out the worst in you. Something about the way everyone around you was starting to carve their way into the universe made you feel...lonely. 

Inadequate. 

Lost. 

Again and again, you feel the urgency that only loss brings out in you, like you want to reach out into the universe and grab a hold of something - anything - to keep you from falling into the void but there is nothing. 

You need to stay busy. 

You don't remember when you pull yourself from the warmth of your covers and pad softly downstairs. The lights of your private archives hum loudly in the silence of the early morning. You slide into your helmet, the cold sticks to the inside spaces making little puffs with every breath you take. 

You start your search, finding files with old wives tales and home remedies, scanning them for anything you can think of that the new nervous parents could need. And when you can't think of anything else, you read past accounts of births in this tiny little town, taking notes on your data pad as you go.

You don't feel your eyes start to slip closed halfway through your research, you don't feel your head drop forward suddenly heavy with exhaustion, you don't feel your entire body curl up to the desk as sleep completely overtakes you, and most of all you don't feel the Mandalorian pull you from your awkward sleeping position on the table to bring you upstairs. You don’t feel him lay you on your own bed, helmet still firmly attached over your shoulders. 

You sleep through the tiny claws pulling themselves up beside you, but when the little warm body curls up under your chin your eyes finally flutter open.

Your hand comes up, landing with a soft plop between the kids ears. "Hey buddy, I've missed you." Your voice is raspy and thick with sleep.

He gurgles, little claws digging into the collar of your shirt. 

"Where's your big beskar friend?" You sigh as you sit up slightly, you hold the child tight against you with one hand while pulling the helmet from your head with your other. It bounces on your mattress as you let it slide off. You look around, running the sleep from your eyes and trying to piece together how you even got back here.

The kid reaches up and touches your chin, a shiver runs down your spine as he shares more memories with you. 

Sand and heat. Double suns high in the brilliant blue sky. 

There was a nice woman there with wild curly hair, you can feel how much she makes him happy. She's fun because she lets me get in trouble. It's not words you exchange but feelings. 

Holding the child in your arms and staring into the inky black of his eyes you can feel your resolve melting away. 

If Mando asks again, you won't say no. You'll leave this all behind...but you've got to tell him the truth first. You hide your worry behind a smirk as you turn to the child, your hand curled into a C shape as you run it down the front of your chest, “Hungry?” 

His little arms immediately spring up as he squeals.

“Not surprising.” You smirk as you inch out of bed, slowly standing with him still held carefully in your arms. 

“I told him to let you sleep.”

You almost jump out of your skin at his sudden appearance, you aren’t sure how long the Mandalorian has been standing in your doorway watching you. “Mother of a mudscupper, I didn’t think you could be so quiet!” You shout, your heart racing up your throat. 

This time he does chuckle at you before disappearing into your living area. You walk out behind him, still holding the child tight. He leans against a side wall, seemingly looking out of your window into the street below. 

“I didn’t think you’d be back.” You say as you place the child down on the thick carpet, he wobbles over to the closest data pad, tucked into your usual place between one of the cushions of the couch. 

“He likes it here. He’s safe here”

“You have a bounty nearby?” You ask instead.  

“No.” he replies, “My offer-” 

“To come with - wait.” You stop before you can finish the thought. 

You hear it before you even see it break atmo, your eyes train on the sky. Mando looks up as well, following your gaze. You murmur it as you see it land in the outskirts. “T-4a shuttle.”

The Empire.

"Fuck, you have to go Mando, and you have to go now!" You scramble away from the window, you snatch the kid from the ground and hand him roughly to the Mandalorian as you both move as far away from the window as you can. Your data pad falls from his little claws, shattering against the floor. The Mandalorian tucks the child safely away in his canvas bag, trying to keep him calm as he starts to cry and squirm. 

"Come with us."

"You won't make it out of atmo alone." You grit, "Go, I can buy you time."

He hesitates, "Why? Why does the Empire want you?!"

"Dank ferrik Mando, we don't have time for this!"

"Tell me why, tell me what they want."

You roll your eyes, your hands card through your hair harshly, annoyed doesn't even begin to describe the sensation that blooms in your chest, "For fucks sake Mando, it's because I belong to them!"

He takes a step back. If you could see his face you would put money on a look of betrayal probably etching itself into his gaze as you spoke.

You rip yourself out of your thin jacket and toss it on the ground and show your arm to the Mandalorian, the red of the ink even brighter than you remember in the daylight. This is not the way you were hoping to have this conversation. 

"You're a deserter."

You huff, "No, life would be much easier if I was. A blaster bolt to the brain and that's the end of that. I am a creation, a monster born and bred for the Empire, they are inclined to bring me back."

He is frozen solid, the only sign of life is his chest which keeps rapidly rising and falling.

You clench your fist, he's running out of time and all he can do is stand there and be shocked by the inhumanity of the Empire, "Please Mando, you need to go."

"They want the kid, something about his blood-"

"Gods damn it, will you please go?!" You were so riled up that you felt the tears starting to blur out your vision.

"Are they making Jedi? Are they making more of you?!"

He was downright impossible. "I was force sensitive when they snatched me di'kut!" You growl, "They can't make us, but they can do other things."

Chaos is breaking out on the streets outside, you can hear screams and the sound of blaster fire. Panic rises up in your throat like acrid bile.

"Look, I don't know what they want from the kid, but please don't let them get him. If he survives whatever it is that they want him for or if he survives whatever they do to him, he won't like himself afterwards."

The Mandalorian is still and you wonder how long it will take for your words to bounce around his helmet before they sink into his head. The kid cries and he finally nods, "How do I get out?"

***

You can hear them coming closer. The sounds of doors being ripped off their hinges as imperial troopers in their white plastoid armor lay waste to the houses of the people you call friends and neighbors grows louder and louder. You are scared, your heart hammers under your ribs and if you don't keep reminding yourself to breathe you are sure you are going to keel over dead. 

The Imperials drag out the men and women from their homes, shouting at them for information.

“Where is the bounty hunter?!” 

“The one covered in beskar!” 

There is no death, there is the force. The words appear in your mind like a message from some nearby god.

You close your eyes and open your door and step out onto the main road, your long handled electro-axe dragging lines into the dirt of the road beside you. You stop in the middle of the road and turn to face the small squad of troopers, a few lieutenants scattered between them, the silver emblems of their caps shine in the sun. 

"The Mandalorian was with me." You call over, your voice cuts through the chaos.

The chaos quiets down for a moment as eyes land on you. Your own gaze lands on two lieutenants in the center of the fray, you can see their eyes flicker down, as they take in the brands on your skin. You grip your weapon a little tighter under their gazes.

"Deserter!" One of them growls before the other holds him back, a tight and sudden grip on his shoulder that stops him between steps. 

The dark haired lieutenant approaches warily. "What is a Praetorian doing in these quadrants?"

You smirk as there is a noticeable nervous shuffle in the group, "You're outside your jurisdiction boys. There is no Empire or New Republic presence here, but if you insist on asking questions about the Mandalorian, you are going to have to deal with me."

"I repeat, Praetorian," The lieutenant shouts as he visibly gathers his courage and shuffles closer, "Why are you here?"

Your eyes scan his face, the small smirk growing into a toothy grin on your lips, "Let me repeat, lieutenant: you have no jurisdiction here, and if you think you rank above me...you are in for a harsh reminder." Your heart feels like it’s ready to burst from your chest, but you swallow down harshly and refuse to let it show. 

His lip quivers and fear rolls off him in tidal waves, he turns to his partner, "Kill them." 

The heat from the blasters is immediate as every blaster attempts to take you out, you ignite your vibro axe, it’s blue arcs of electricity snapping to life. You dodge a couple of shots, blocking the rest with a quick push from the force, snapping it back before regathering your focus and sending another wave before the troopers can get another shot in. 

Your wave tackles the first row of troopers, causing havoc down the next two lines of troopers. Shots ring out in all directions as troopers go flying into each other, you take this moment to jump into the fray, slicing at the splayed out troopers who are still attempting to stand. 

You try to keep tabs on the snarky lieutenant as he melts into the crowd, Imperial troopers pouring down the street en force. A blaster bolt rips through your shoulder, sending a searing flash of pain down your side. You see red as you throw your hand out and catch the trooper responsible by the throat. You fling him bonelessly into the closest hard surface, the sidewall of your own home.

 Before he hits the ground you're already preparing to lash out at the next wave, quickly flipping your axe to your good arm, but you are not fast enough. A trooper charges under your outstretched hand, knocking you over. 

The air leaves your lungs as you hit the road hard on your back. 

The troops lunge forward and you hear distant shouts:

"Bring the e-net!"

"Clear the field!"

The crowd of white and black troopers part and you see the sky darkening as the electric net fills the sky.

"Fuck." You manage to gasp before it lands against your body and pins you to the ground. You hear it hum for a moment before it cracks to life like a lightning strike. Thick arcs of blue electricity fill the air and every muscle in your body spasms. 

Your screams fill your ears, eyes brimming with angry tears as white hot pain tears through you. The pain stops for a moment, just enough time for you to see the silver shine of the Razor Crest break out of atmo at the corner of your vision. Electricity arcs again and your vision is gone behind a wall of tears and a tidal wave of pain. 

You hear the boots around you surge forward in rhythm and then darkness. 

Sweet, sweet, painless darkness.

Taglist: @prettyboyskywalker, @sunshinepascal, @perropascal, @pascalisthepunkest, @bigdickdindjarin, @kyjoraven

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[slasherkisss]

CABIN FEVER - JASON VOORHEES X READER [CHAPTER 5]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept…and to love.

A/N Chapter 5 is here! I’m gonna finish this fic if it kills me, I promise. I’m just so slow at writing with my work and life. My 2020 resolution is to at least get this done at some point fghgh. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter nonetheless!

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You had seen Jason almost every day since then.

As the seasons shifted with the rotation of the earth, so did your attitude with the presence of the Crystal Lake Killer at your side. Rather than live in isolation as you had planned to, the forest as your only friend and the sound of birds and babbling brooks being the last signal of life within your reach, you had instead found comfort in another figure nonetheless. His hulking stature brought with it a warmth so unique to him that you could feel it radiating from far outside your home each time he visited. It was like a string of fate, you thought with moderate amusement in your mind’s voice as you would constantly guide yourself to it in order to bring him in as you usually did, tying you to him as you allowed yourself to drown further and further against him.

He was a sun at the bottom of water, reflecting stars in the warmest of ways.

Your mind wandered over to the subject the most when you two were making love.

‘Making love’. It’s what you called it. It’s the phrase you used to ease him into the idea of being so intimate with you. For some reason the wording seemed to put him in a more relaxed state than other synonyms. You didn’t mind, though. You had always found it vulgar when your partner talked to you with those phrases dying on their lips as they pushed themselves upon you. ‘Fuck’ and ‘Bang’ and ‘Boink’... All stupid words that stupid people who were not serious about their relationships used to justify their wants. To find someone and use them and then leave them alone.

There was nothing wrong with it, you supposed in the end. Some people liked that style of living. Partner to partner parkour suited those who found joy in it and that was okay, but you? There was a craving for something more in the base of your chest. Thorns digging into your lungs and heart, clutching around each organ tighter and tighter the longer you were without that sweetness of a lover willing to devote their all to you. You hadn’t known that you wanted someone like that in your life until you met Jason Voorhees.

Until he saved you like that, and you repaid him with your love. It made sense now why you never enjoyed the other men. Why you never gained pleasure when they fingered you. As Jason’s thick, delicious fingers filled you to the brim as they always seemed to, you understood what you wanted.

Him. Always him.

Your moans were soft, beautiful noises that hit Jason’s ears in all the right ways. His head tilted slightly to the side, eyes admiring you through the small holes of his mask as his massive fingers curled deep into your throbbing core. Your hips rolled to accompany their movements, fingers finding fistfuls of his ragged shirt and gripping until your knuckles turned white as the sheets of the bed you were atop. His other arm rested on the bed, dipping it dangerously to one side but neither of you could find it in you to care in the throws of your passion.

“Jason,” Your moans of his name were a song to his heart as you arched yourself up into his touch, “There - yes - please! You’re doing so good - ahhh - so, so wonderful and good. My good boy, mmm, that’s it… Jason-!”

Your moans and praises only spurred him on, his confidence increasing with every ‘good boy’ and sweet words of love that left your voice. Each crook of the fingers within you sent your mind running on a high that pushed your entire form over the edge. You came when he twisted his two thick fingers within you and crooked them curiously, hitting a spot inside of your core that made you see stars. Your entire body shook as you cried his name, your moans beautiful on your lips as he memorized the face you made as you soaked his fingers in your cum.

Laying on the bed, you caught your breath as you watched him heave his own heavy ones, his cock hard in his pants as he shifted before you with a needy stature. You knew what he wanted next, smiling as he begged for it in the shyest of ways possible, and it was only natural for you to return the favor. Sitting up, you leaned upwards to kiss his mask. The material was cold under your lips but you didn’t care, not when he leaned forward eagerly in the movement, pressing his cock onto your bare thigh. Your hand came down to free it from its constraints, making a low and shaky moan pull itself from the killer’s throat. You smiled proudly.

His moans were like the wind. Each echo of them burned the very walls of your cabin as you stroked his throbbing cock in your hand, his entire body shuddering as he leaned forward to rest his head on top of yours. In this position, when you looked upwards enough, you were always able to see the beautiful blue of his eyes through the mask. You held onto them as you smiled, your pace increasing as you pleasured him.

He was so perfect.

After taking care of you and your lovers needs you excited the bedroom in an outfit of thick jeans and a plaid button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to your elbows, bending tight at the forearm as you meandered about in hopes to locate the seeds you had haphazardly placed somewhere in the kitchen before being whisked off by your lover into the bedroom, where he cared for you so well. It was less of an active search effort, however, and more of a generalized meandering of your open space.

You found yourself in that short of mindset nowadays. With nothing to focus on outside of the things you wanted to, life had gone at your own pace. Your only timers now were the sun and the moon as they traded spots in the sky, cycling through each other endlessly as they fought for the attention of the humans down below. Your world went by at a careful rhythm that followed the beat of your heart as you progressed. There were some days you just wandered around the winding paths of the forest, admiring the trees and the animals that scurried past your feet. You gathered the skulls of creatures you passed by when you could, too.

It had started when you found a squirrel skull on a trail. Scooping it up without much thinking about it, it now joined the rest of the bones and plants Jason had gotten you on the various displayed points within your cabin. Soon to join it were the small amalgamation of animal teeth, spine bones, and raccoon skulls that surrounded your living room in a macabre visage of rural beauty.

The trail of thoughts was burst when you turned around from your fifth pacing circle in the kitchen, running face to face with Jason as you did so. His hulking form had entered the kitchen only a short while ago, hands outstretched as he offered the missing seeds to you with a tilt of his head, as if asking ‘is this what you were looking for’?

“Oh!” You giggled and took them from his hand, “Thanks, Jay, I appreciate it.”

You stood on the tips of your toes to kiss his cheek. To accommodate the action, he modestly bent his knees to feel the warmth of your mouth over his mask. If corpses could blush, god, you imagined that he would be red. Shaking the seed packets in your hand, you found the trowel that you had gotten in your short time at the store in the town a few miles out from your location and waved it around with a laugh.

“Want to help me work?”

His nod was adorably eager as he followed after you into the backyard. HIs footsteps fell heavier than your own, making it sound as though your own were echoing off of the edges of your floor as you spun the trowel lightly in your hand.

Outside the house was beautiful. Sun rays proded through the leaves of tall trees, sprinkling themselves down onto the earth below. The dots warmed your skin and made you sigh with a pleasant contentedness as you shut your eyes to bask. The warmth hit your face as you swayed in the mulch below you. Jason watched you for a moment, your perfect face glowing like fire in the rays of the light. Birds chirped their secretive pleasantries around the branches they hid in and he could see the glitter of love and appreciation for his home in your eyes as they opened back up.

The Cabin’s backyard was a large spread of land fenced off with old wooden posts that lined themselves with barbed wire. Your Dad had always said that it was to keep animals out, but, you now wondered if it was to keep something more out. Something that you had let in instead. It was a cruel sort of humor that made you laugh at it before trying to forget about it, focusing instead on the half of the land rimmed with two chicken coops and a small plotted feeding ground for pigs. On the other half of the land, in front of you where your cabin’s entrance spat you out, was an even set of plots. They were perfect for growing fruits and vegetables of all sorts. Your grip on the bag in your hand clenched tighter as you hopped towards the dirt and began your preparations.

You were on your knees and pulling out weeds when Jason joined you, his own hands hesitantly finding the unnecessary plants and removing them fearlessly from their roots. You smiled up at him as he did so, the shimmer of the sun reflecting off of his hockey mask.

“I want to get farm animals,” You announced with a soft sigh, “Some chickens and maybe a couple of goats. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a few pigs around, too?”

He nodded in excitement, the thought of all of those creatures safe within the confines of the land with you a delight to his ears. You watched him stand up and look around, as though he was ready to start finding animals right then and there. Reaching out your hand, you held onto his pant leg as he tried to move, making him look down and offer a quizzical stare in return.

“Not right now, silly.” You laughed, “We have to plant seeds first. And then maybe start stocking up on feed. I don’t want them to go hungry. I’m sure we can make some natural feed out of the things in the woods. You can help me with that later, too, alright?”

He sat down, picking idly at the earth as he helped remove more of the weeds, and nodded.

The two of you worked on your garden in quiet, words not necessary as the both of you relaxed in the presence of the forest and each other. You could count the seconds between the bird’s tweets, slowly recognizing the different iterations of each species. Your fingers felt cool in the dirt as they dug shamelessly through the ground, not afraid of getting dirty if it meant giving you the fruits of your hard work in a few months. Lines were created, holes shoved into them as you had Jason insert each seed of different varieties into their rows. They were so nice and neat. When you told him you were proud of him he beamed.

You put your hands over his as you showed him how to cover the seeds properly, ensuring that they were correctly layered with the amount of dirt necessary. You felt how strong his hands were. They were as powerful, you realized, as they were gentle. Your own didn’t even fit in his palm. HIs massive body was so much more against yours. If he wanted to he could grab you right now, holding you there and then snapping your neck without a second thought.

You could feel them now. Tight around you. Parching your breath. The twist of your flesh… gentle but firm… your tendon snapping and your spine shattering in his grip.

Cr-Ack

You startled yourself as you realized you had broken a twig under your palms, staring down at the earth with wide eyes. Jason’s hands were still under your own as you watched their difference again, trying not to let your mind wander down that path again as you looked upwards towards the massive killer. His hockey mask gave way to his eyes, which were soft as they searched yours. Curious and worried, that sweet look of his made your worries melt away and you smiled softly, lips parted in a breathless laugh that made no sound. Leaning forward, your lips found his again. Well, where his lips might be. You wondered if you could get him to take his mask off at some point. You would have to get there on his own time, especially when he was doing so well for you already.

“Let’s go inside, okay? I think we’ve done all the work we can for now… It’s just up to letting these little guys grow now.”

You cast one last familiar gaze at the plants below you and then let a smile form itself light on your lips, “I’ll even make us some lemonade, okay?”

Jason nodded slowly and it occurred to you that, perhaps, he didn’t have to drink lemonade. Perhaps he’s never had lemonade before. What kind of childhood was that, you wondered, that this man had never had lemonade before he died? A tragic one, certainly, but no one ever claimed that Jason Voorhees had a good childhood.

The inside of your cabin was cold compared to the warmth of the sunny outdoors. It sent a chill down your spine as you wrapped your dirty hands around your arms and rubbed them, the friction accompanied by the feeling of mud being smeared across yourself. It was a nice feeling, though. Dirty and gritty… as though you were closer to the earth. As though, slowly, you were going to become one with it.

That was the part you never seemed to mind about the concept of dying, at least. Being buried deep within the earth or scattered ashes across fertilized plains of existence. The echo of your voice a deathly sound on the wind as all the pieces of you were moved about in different locations… All of it was as beautiful as it was melancholy. It was a terrifying concept but so peaceful in its honest ideal that it almost made you crave it sometimes. To be in the ground with the worms as they used your body to fuel their lives. To fuel nature. Soon you would be the trees towering above you or the plants at the bottom of a lake, swimming and watching the rays of the sun filter downwards into your eyes and system…

A touch lifted you from your thoughts. You turned your head slightly to notice the hand on your shoulder. Jason’s touch was not hard by any means. It was a light rest of his palm on your shoulder, not even squeezing as he waited for you to respond with something akin to worry radiating off of his massive, blank features. Reaching upwards with your own hand, you touched his and rubbed at the textured knuckles, your finger dipping into a part of his skin that had long been peeled away by decay. You felt the texture of his bone against the tip of your finger and shivered with delight at its strangeness. At its unique difference to any other hand you had held before.

You wanted to dip your tongue into it. To taste what his bones would be flavored like. Maybe you could ask him if it was okay later.

Right now you needed some lemonade and a good book.

“I can read you a story after we make some drinks,” You suggested, your first words after a terrifying silence as you pat his hand and smiled brightly at him. Jason’s serious demeanor seemed to lax at the idea, enjoying the sound of your voice when it lulled him into a net of safety through fairy tales and history books. You had read him the tale of Bonnie and Clyde at some point and he seemed to have an interest in the roaring 20s ever since. You tried to imagine him in flapper wear, dancing gaudily to electro-swing, and it almost made you laugh out loud as you entered your living room to skim the stocked bookshelf curiously.

Your fingers passed grimoires of fairy tales and texts of history tomes, lowering themselves idly to the edges of other books whose titles you had yet to read even since your arrival here. Inch by inch you scanned the shelves as you tilted your head sideways, gathering the titles in the light to better comprehend them.

It’s when you saw it.

It was a simple book, blue in its cover with plain white lettering. It was clear and easy to see, yet it nearly mixed with the rest of the blander covers. Perhaps to others it was bland. Yet, still, its concept caught your curiosity. Your heart jumped and you couldn’t help the smile as you pulled it down from its shelf and scanned the front of it.

American Sign Language: Conversations for Beginners

“Jason!” You turned a little too excitedly as your eyes lit up, holding the book upwards to show the startled man before you. He tilted his head in an indication of confusion as he gazed down at the book, which only served to rile you up more as you bounced on the heels of your feet and smiled.

“How would you feel about learning a new language?”