#jesus fucking christ what the hell happened to you chuck

[sillybeck]

i've seen those motorcity posters for different episodes and THERES THIS ONE CHUCK ONE FOR FEARLESS...

(i tried my best to censor the blood..)

EXTREME BLOOD WARNING BY THE WAY!!!!! i was inspired.....

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆

part 1 of 💔broken family💔

summary - you had woken from a nightmare, one that was reality, only to live through more hell as your son slowly stops loving you.

warning - angst, swearing, cheating assumptions, divorce, self-doubt, breakdowns, misery.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 2

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

“Wait… Wait.” You hurriedly get out, struggling to understand the words that just left your husband’s mouth. Trying to process what was happening, you thought everything was good, you thought everything was okay. But apparently, on Ari’s side, nothing was okay. “What do you mean you want a divorce? What about Jason?” You blink, stunned, as you stare at the man you were desperately in love with. “Ari, answer me!” You beg and plead, needing to know why he suddenly woke up and wanted to leave.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/n. Just sign the fucking divorce papers. I don’t love you anymore. Don’t you get that? And you’ll drop Jason off at my new place.” He growls, chucking the papers and a pen at you and standing over you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Hurry up! I have to go to work, and I don’t want to deal with this when I get home.” You nod slowly, feeling your heart crack and shatter as you sign your name on the paper. You hold back the tears that threaten to fall, not wanting to anger him any more. 

You wake with a choked sob and gasp. You looked around and were hit with the hard truth that the nightmare wasn’t just a nightmare. It was your reality. You sit against the headboard, pressing your hand into your mouth as sobs fall from your lips, the tears flow, and you can’t stop them. You must stay quiet so you don’t wake your son, which becomes more challenging as the memories keep flowing, and your heart shatters. You don’t know where it all went wrong. You thought everything between the two of you was going well. Why didn’t you see the signs? Had Ari always disliked you? Did he not love you to begin with? How could you not see it? You were so sure it was the perfect fairytale you had wished for. As the tears dried, you slowly laid back down and drifted back to sleep, and the nightmare kept repeating the whole night.

You had woken just as the sun had started rising, groggily heading to the bathroom and freshening up before heading to your closet and changing into a pair of jeans and a plain shirt. What was the point of looking good anymore? It’s not like anyone loved you. You head down to the kitchen, preparing breakfast for your son. You poured some coffee into a mug that Jason made for you with Ari, causing tears to brim as more memories flash before your eyes. You accidentally slam the cup down onto the kitchen counter, causing some of the liquid inside to splash out, and you stumble into the table, taking a few deep breaths as you desperately try to hold your sobs back. It had been months now since Ari left you out of the blue, and you still hadn’t gotten over it, not being able to move on, not being able to get a peaceful rest, and every time you had dropped your son off to his place, he had glared at you and spoke hurtful words.

You clear your throat, quickly heading up to Jason’s room and gently waking him. “Hey, baby. Breakfast is ready.” And just like his father, he ignores you. How could a four-year-old even ignore you like a grown man could? And why did it hurt a lot more? But you can’t show him that it hurts. You just help him up, changing him before helping him down to the kitchen, ignoring how he’d slightly push your hands away, babbling about how he’s a big boy and could do it himself.

“Mumma, when I see daddy again?” You stare at him as you begin to feed him. You won’t say Ari was a horrible father because he was probably the best father out there. But what did he have that you didn’t? Your son had only returned home a day ago, and Jason already wanted to go back. He didn’t seem to care to spend time with you… It was different when you and Ari were still married. Your son had been a mumma’s boy, he had clung to you, wanting to spend time with you, admired you, and now it’s as though you were a nuisance, someone blocking him from his father. “Mumma?” He huffs, pouting at you, as you blink at him.

“Uh, soon, baby. On the weekend.” You try and smile, clearing your throat before placing the spoon in front of his mouth and letting him eat the food off of it. You can see him become upset by your words, not liking the answer you gave him. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll see him again. It’s not that long.” You try to reassure him, stroking his hair back, but feel your heart clench as he shifts away from you. You hide your hurt, blinking back the tears. “C’mon, eat up. You have kindy today.” As he finishes his breakfast, you ensure he’s brushed his teeth and grabbed his bag and shoes. You drive him to kindy, dropping him off, feeling a lump in your throat as he runs out of the car before you can even walk with him. You knew it was you because you had heard that your son wanted his father to walk him up but couldn’t because you were no longer together. Of course, he couldn’t say all that, but you got the gist. You drove to work, not caring that you didn’t look as presentable as you used to be when you were married, but you felt drained. You didn’t care how you looked anymore. If Ari stopped loving you when you looked your best, then why should you continue? It wasn’t like he’ll suddenly wake up and regret leaving you.

Your day consisted of pitiful looks, rumours, and people coming up to you asking if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay. You had lost the love of your life and didn’t even know why. Did he find someone else? Was it someone younger, prettier? Was that why you guys stopped being intimate for so long? Should you have seen the signs long before the divorce? You blanked out during work, thinking it over, wondering if you ever smelt a perfume that wasn’t yours or if Ari had come home late, he had any lipstick on his collar. But you couldn’t remember. You had been brought out of your daze when your boss came over and tapped you on the shoulder, smiling at you softly as she whispered for you to go home and get some rest. 

You had driven home, sighing as you parked your car, and entered your home, dropping down onto the couch as you felt the house's silence, no longer filled with laughter, happiness, or love. No wonder your son didn’t want to stay here anymore. Your husband had succeeded. Whatever sick game he was playing, he had won. He had managed to take every bit of happiness from your life. You had your son physically but not mentally or emotionally. 

You hoped it would all get better…

At least you still had your hope… Right?

You thought you at least deserved a better goodbye.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's 12 Days of Ficmas: Day 9 Nutcracker (Chucky-Doll version)

Day 9 brings for the first time ever a fic about the doll version of Charles Lee Ray, bear with me on this everyone lol

Notes: Minors DNI, SFW, Fluffy, No specific descriptions or pronouns for reader used. Doll, just doll, nothing weird happens but if you don't like that this isn't the fic for you.

"You know, you're like the size of one of those nutcrackers now"

"Jesus Christ, why the fuck did I think coming here was a good idea?"

"Oh c'mon Chuck, you love me. Plus would you rather be here with me or with Tiffany?"

"I'd rather be actually in fucking hell then with either of you if I'm honest"

"You're such a stick in the mud, Nutcracker"

You grinned at the doll standing on the side opposite side of your bed as you. He had shown up a few days prior and it took you a minute to realize your former serial killer boyfriend was now inside the doll. Apparently some voodoo magic or something along those lines had happened to get him in the doll but you really didn't care.

"I. Am. Not. A. Fucking. Nutcracker."

"I didn't say you were, I said you were the size of one"

He rolled his eyes but sat down beside you. The tv in your bedroom was playing some cheesy love story Christmas movie on it that neither of you were really paying attention to.

"Do you like...need to eat?"

"What?"

He asked unimpressed.

"Do you need to eat? Like you're a doll now but do you still get hungry"

"Look doll, I've only been a doll for like a week now, I haven't even figured most of this shit out"

"Well if it's been a week and you haven't felt hungry or eaten maybe the answer is no"

"I mean I guess babe sure-"

'You are really the size of a nutcracker though"

"If you mention a nutcracker one more fucking time"

"I'm sorry chuck!, you're just so cute and portable now. I can get one of those baby carriers and carry you around in it"

"No. No baby carrier"

"Oh c'mon! I can carry you to victims houses and everything."

He gave a grunt in response and you could HEAR the eyeroll he gave you from his place next to you on your bed. Just because Chucky was a doll now, that didn't mean he was immune to your teasing.

"Ya know somethin' chuck?"

You asked much quieter as you turned in bed to face his small figure.

"What doll?"

"I'm happy you came to find me instead of Tiffany"

"Really doll? and what would of happened if I would've found Tiff first instead. Would you have been jealous?"

He asked in a cocky tone, you knew he was teasing you.

"Fuck you Chuck, you do look like a nutcracker"

You said turning around in the bed to turn the bedside lamp off. You heard him let out an offended gasp.

"I'm not a fuckin nutcracker!"

He exclaimed but joined you in laying all the way down.

"Sure you aren't Chuck"

You teased one more time as you lulled off into sleep. The next morning you awoke before Chucky and decided to go run some errands and maybe get a little payback for him accusing you of being jealous of Tiffany....which you totally weren't...of course not.

You were down in the kitchen, making breakfast for you and Chucky until you heard a yell come from the bedroom.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you! I'm not a goddamn nutcrack!"

Chucky apparently liked the nutcracker clothes you had bought him when you went to the store, maybe even better then his good guy doll overalls. You grinned to yourself, maybe one day you would convince him to transfer his spirit into an actual nutcracker for the holidays.

[beast1eb0ys]

New Year’s Eve Party

Pairing: Adam ‘Ad-Rock’ Horovitz x Female Reader.

It was December 31st 1987 and MCA had invited you to his and Mike’s shared apartment in NYC for a New Year’s Eve celebration. You hesitated as you accepted the invite, aware that a certain someone would likely be in attendance.

MCA had extended the invite to your friend. You smirked at her, as you were slightly suspicious there was something between the two of them. You were both at your shared NYC apartment, rummaging through your closet for an appropriate outfit.

You collapsed to the floor, eyeing the piles and piles of clothes, still not having found the perfect outfit. The reason for this chaos, was a certain brown eyed Beastie Boy, whom you have had an embarrassing crush on for the past two years.

Your friend walked into your room, halting at the sight of you buried under the contents of your closet. “Jesus Christ. What the hell happened?” She laughed at the sight of your defeated face. She pulled you up off the floor as you eyed a pair of Levi 501s untouched in the closet.

You smiled as you pulled them on. “Damn girl!” She hyped you up as you twirled sarcastically. You chucked on low cut top as you headed downstairs, you pulled on your Adidas Campus and grabbed your jacket. You hopped into the cab waiting outside, leaving your jacket on the seat next to you.

As you arrived outside of MCA’s apartment, you pressed the buzzer and waited to be granted access into the building. You stepped into the elevator, anxiously twiddling your fingers and fixing your hair in the reflection.

“Fuck sake, I left my jacket in the cab!” You panicked, already feeling the cold air nipping at your bare arms. As you stepped off the elevator, knocking on MCA and Mike’s door, the anxiety in your chest heightens. You look up as someone answers the door, and your eyes meet his.

“Hey!” He grins at you, leaning on the door frame. You smile nervously, words catching in your throat. You were lost in his big brown eyes as they stared into yours. You felt your friend nudge you with her elbow, giving you the eye. “Oh. Sorry. Hi. Hey!” You stutter out, his smile growing as he chuckles at your delayed response.

You step inside, MCA approaching almost immediately and guiding your friend towards the rooftop, leaving you standing alone with Adam. You smile at him as you catch up, he offers you a drink that you accept. You can’t help but admire him as he speaks to you about their latest gigs, potential new album, travelling etc.

You’re lost in Adam’s eyes as Mike approaches you from behind, making you jump as he places a hand on your shoulder. “Long time, no see! Cmon, there’s some people I want you to meet.” He attempts to drag you away as you look at Adam with unsure eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll see you later.” He reassures, as Mike drags you away.

You’re stood outside on the rooftop, chatting with a few people as you begin to notice how cold you’re getting. You rub your arms in an attempt to heat yourself up. You teeth start to chatter as you look around for Mike or MCA to see if they have something in their closet you could borrow.

You excuse yourself from the group, scanning your eyes over the crowded rooftop. You’re about to head inside as you feel something wrap around your shoulders. You turn to find Adam, holding his denim jacket around you. “No, Adam. You’ll get cold!” You try to return the jacket as he stops you by placing two hands on your shoulders. “I’m good babe.” He smirks at you as you blush at his word choice.

You thank him quietly as you make your way to the edge of the rooftop, leaning against the railing to admire the city below. He stands next to you, shoulders brushing with yours as you breathe in deeply. You turn to find him already looking at you. “You look fly in my jacket.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering near your face.

Your breath hitches as you feel him lean closer, you can almost feel his breath on your face. As he’s about to close the distance between you, Mike comes running towards you, “Adam, it’s almost 12:00! You gotta come watch the fireworks!” Adam looks at him, shaking his head slightly as he grabs your hand leading you towards the large group.

You find your friend with MCA, smiling at her as you see their intertwined hands. You knew it. She excitedly pulls you into a hug, as the countdown for 1988 begins. You lock eyes with Adam who’s standing a few inches away from you, his eyes searching yours.

10

9

8

You feel Adam step closer.

7

6

5

His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers.

4

3

2

You hold your breath, hoping for what you’ve been yearning for, for years.

1

The fireworks in the sky explode as Adam lifts your chin, pulling you into a passionate kiss. He cups your cheeks as you smile into the kiss, drinking all of him in.

As the cheers fade out, you pull away finding Adam’s lopsided grin staring back at you. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He breathes as you chuckle, pulling him in for another kiss. Your friend, along with Mike and MCA watch proudly at their two stupid best friends.

[sirensleepingsoundly]

Hellfire and Spitfire (pt.7)

CW: spoilers(duh), regular fluff, story addition, sexual content, angst, unrequited, friends to enemies to lovers, only one bed (sort of), angry kissing, aggressive seggs, hair pulling, blood, hand/ring fetish, size kink.

Word Count: 5.1k

Your heart dropped into your ass. You, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie just watched as the bubbles dissipated where Steve had been sucked under. 

“No! No! What the fuck was that man?” Eddie started freaking out, tousling his hair.

Nancy made to stand and leant over the edge of the boat.

“Wait, wait, wait. Nancy, you are not going down there!” You scolded your own older sister. What if something happened to her? She hadn’t seen what you saw. She didn’t know all of what Vecna was capable of, but the second Steve was in trouble, she was all too willing to dive in and save him.

“Just… wait here, okay?” She pointed into the boat and then jumped in feet first. The whole thing shook and you had to grab the sides to stabilize yourself. 

You only took a second to consider before deciding. Your sister was down there. You took off your sweater, leaving only a tank top, and looked back at Eddie. He was already shaking his head. 

“Wheeler, don’t you fucking dare. Nancy said to stay put!”

You responded by diving head first into the lake, swimming straight down. The cold of the water shocked your senses and stung your eyes. Just as your lungs were starting to ache for air, you saw it. A faint red glow surrounding a strange fleshy membrane. And then you felt it, a force tugging you in. It pulled you further and further in until you fell through the gate, landing what felt like the wrong way up. You tried to stand, disoriented. And when your vision finally came back into focus you found yourself in what seemed to be an exact copy of lovers lake, only barren. Across the empty lake, you saw movement. Small creatures, a bunch of them, swarming something. Then Nancy, batting at them with an oar. You broke into a full sprint toward them, hearing Robin’s voice behind you. 

As you got closer you realized what was happening. Steve was on the ground being attacked by the little beasts, these ugly veiny little bat things. You picked up a large rock from off the ground and chucked it at the nearest bat-thing. Robin caught up and also began looking for something to throw, when Eddie appeared out of nowhere with his own oar, swinging it at every creature in sight. One had wrapped itself around Steve’s throat, and the lot of you fought off the ones that had decided to dine on Steve’s middle. 

Eddie broke the oar on one, and used the now sharp bit to stab at them. Finally the rest of the bat-things were all either dead or fleeing. 

Steve stood up and bit the last one trying to attack him, tearing it apart with his teeth and leaving nasty too-dark blood dripping from his mouth. 

“Jesus H. fucking Christ!” Eddie yelled, throwing his oar spear to the dirt. 

“Oh my god. What the hell?” You were dumbfounded, still no idea what just happened.

“Steve, are you okay?” Of course Nancy was immediately attending to Steve.

Just as Robin started to ramble about rabies, you zoned out. You’d seen the beasts and creatures born of it, but you’d never actually seen into the Upside Down before. 

You looked up and around at everything. The landscape was dead and barren, except these weird vines that grew everywhere. The sky was a strange red tinge. All around you, these flaky particles like ash permeated the air. And then across the clearing to the other bank, way up in the sky, you noticed a swarm. Thousands of the little winged beasties making their way in your direction. 

“Hey guys?” You called back toward the group, still focused on the swarm. Everyone noticed at once. 

“The woods, come on!” Nancy ran for the tree line. She was fast in those damn boots. 

Soon you were back under the cover of skull rock, listening to the horde fly over and away. After they passed, you all got up to start walking. Before everyone could even get out from under the boulder, Steve fell against the rock face and just collapsed against the wall. 

“Oh shit.”

“Steve? Steve!” You started to walk over but Nancy beat you to him, getting him to sit back down and dress his wounds. You tried not to let it get to you.

Instead you walked back to look around with Eddie, stealing a quick glance at Steve’s bloodied body before averting your gaze. You weren’t sure about how it made you feel to see him beaten up, bruised, and covered in blood. Ignoring the heat pooling in your belly, you turned to Eddie to try and make light conversation. 

“You okay?”

“No. You?”

“No.” 

For a moment it was quiet, then you looked at each other and sputtered laughing. How ridiculous was this? 

“So I’m guessing you haven’t been here before either? On this side, I mean?” Eddie was squatting down next to where you sat on the ground. Robin had taken to reminding Steve and Nancy of the symptoms of rabies.

“Nope.” You looked around again. 

“This place is fucking creepy.”

“I know right?” You blew warm air into your hands, and rubbed your arms for warmth. Eddie noticed and, without speaking, took off his leather jacket and put it around your shoulders. When you turned around to thank him, he had walked off towards the others. You took a moment to breathe in the smell of the jacket. It was dirty, and it had the faint smell of sweat and deodorant. 

“So, uh, this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?” Eddie had climbed his way up to the top of a rock protruding from the ground. 

“Pretty much.” Nancy answered. You looked over to see Steve’s waist bandaged up with a ripped piece of cloth, which you then identified as Nancy’s sweater after seeing the ripped hem of her own top. 

“Wait, watch out for the vines.” Eddie had started climbing down the rock to level ground when Nancy stopped him. “It’s all a hive mind.”

“It’s all a what?” 

Steve jumped in to explain. “All the creepy crawlies around here, dude. They’re, like, one or something. Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.”

“Shit.”

 “But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asked, and you realized she’d never actually been in here either. While you, Eddie, and Robin were all totally inexperienced in this domain, Nancy and Steve had ventured down here more than once. 

“As far as I understand it, yeah.”

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.” You stopped to think about how far the police station was from here. 

“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin.” Steve made a decent point. At this point you’d settle for a heavy stick to swat the veiny little shits back to their maker. “But guns, yeah sure.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns. In my bedroom.” Nancy interjected, and you were taken totally aback. 

“Hold on, what? Nance you have guns in the house? And you didn’t think to let me know?”

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?”

“What the fuck?” 

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver.” She explained, ignoring your confusion at the fact that there are guns in her room. 

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” 

“You almost deserved it.” Nancy and Steve looked at each other for a little too long, when Eddie threw his vest at Steve, breaking the awkward moment. This left Eddie in nothing but his hellfire shirt.

“For your modesty, dude.”

The ground shook underneath you, casting you all to the ground, and a loud noise echoed out through the woods. You fell into Eddie’s arms. Turning to get a good grip on something stable, you grasped his shirt so tight you thought you might rip it. 

“So guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie said from above you.

The five of you walked through the woods, all of you being careful not to step on vines or anything that might alert Vecna to your whereabouts. Robin and Nancy led the charge together, Steve slightly behind them, leaving you and Eddie at the tail end of the group. You and Eddie didn’t talk except to say thank you when he helped you over a few particularly large roots in the ground. You were grateful for the silence, it gave you time to think about everything. 

Steve clearly still had feelings for Nancy, and no matter how many times you tried to get close to him, Nancy beat you to it. Jumping in the lake to save him, going through the gate, beating off bats, and even dressing his wounds. You weren’t sure if she knew how you felt and was blocking, or if she just maybe felt the same. Either way, a tiny spark of anger lit in your chest. She had Johnathan. Why would she even care if you finally admitted how you felt to Steve? What did she care? It was her fault that she and Steve had broken up in the first place. She didn’t give him the love he deserved, and then went to Johnathan. The spark quickly grew into a full fledged fire, heating up your face and ears. If it wasn’t so goddamned dark in this dimension, you were sure Eddie would have noticed the tips of your ears going pink. 

“Eddie.” Steve fell farther behind the girls to come talk to Eddie. You let yourself linger back to let them speak. “Eddie. Hey, man. I just, uh.. I just want to say thanks. For saving my ass back there.”

You watched the boys walk from behind. Steve was wearing Eddie’s vest, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Despite being covered in dirt and dried blood, he looked good. What you hadn’t noticed, was that while Steve and Eddie were talking, Eddie turned around to check on you. He caught you looking at Steve. It burned him up inside, the way you looked at Harrington. He wished that you looked at him that way. Even still, he complimented Steve for his righteous move biting that bat.

You overheard Eddie talking about D&D for a second. Telling Steve that he was no hero, and that if it weren't for you, Rob, and Nancy, that he wouldn’t have jumped into the lake himself. It made you think of all the other things he’d done for you as children. Him and Wayne let you sleep in their trailer all the time. They’d fed you, even clothed you. You still had the old Metallica t-shirt Eddie had given you when you were twelve, only now it was a pajama shirt. If Nancy had caught you wearing a shirt like that out of the house, she’d have a fit. 

Then you heard Eddie mention the name Wheeler, but you knew he didn’t mean you.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I’d get her back.”

You didn’t wait to hear what more he said before walking around the boys and ahead towards your sister and Robin. The words struck something in the back of your throat, forming a lump that made it hard to swallow. You hoped that he had no idea how you felt about Steve. That he was just trying to be a wingman and encourage him to get out of his dating rut. 

Eddie had known better. 

You’d finally made it to the house. You hadn’t walked close to Eddie for the rest of the trek, avoiding him if he tried catching up to you. You almost regretted it when you felt the ache in your legs, but then you’d remember what he said to Steve and suddenly were blessed with a burst of energy to keep moving. You led the group up to Nancy’s room, though everyone here but Eddie and Robin knew the way, a thought you tried to forget. 

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin joked. 

“Come on, I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.” She opened her closet and retrieved a shoebox. Nancy had been keeping her guns in a fucking shoebox on the top shelf in her closet. You were still baffled. When she opened the box, instead of guns, there were shoes, still wrapped in the paper they come in when you buy a new pair. 

“Those aren’t guns.” Eddie stated, sounding nervous. 

“No shit, Sherlock.” You said, probably a little harsher than was necessary. 

“These heels are pointy, but I was hoping for a deadly projectile.” Rob chimed in. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe you left them somewhere else?”

“There’s a six year old in the house. I know where I keep my guns. Also I threw these away years ago.” Nancy looked around the room, and so did you. There were things you recognized, but some of them were old. Things she didn’t keep in her room anymore. Nancy rounded her bed and looked at her desk, seeing a bunch of flashcards. “These are from sophomore chemistry.”

You were reminded of when Nancy and Steve had started going out. Steve snuck in to ‘study’ with Nancy. You only knew because your rooms shared a wall and Steve was a klutz getting in and out of the window. Your cheeks began to heat up again. Nancy started pointing out things around the room she no longer kept or had given away. 

“Nancy what’s going on?” You knew that sophomore year was the first time Nancy had been into the Upside Down. The year Will went missing, and then later her friend, Barb. 

“I think the reason my guns aren’t here is because they don’t exist yet.” She rifled through a diary on the desk. “This diary should be full of entries. It’s not. The last entry is November 6, 1983. The day Will went missing. The day the gate opened. We’re in the past.”

Downstairs, you could hear Steve shouting. 

“Dustin! Dustin!”

The rest of you ran back downstairs, only to find Steve yelling into the air, waving his flashlight around. 

“Maybe he really does have rabies.” You and Robin giggled together.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy finally asked him. He turned, startled, and shined the flashlight in your faces by accident.

“He’s here. Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like… he’s in the walls or something. Just listen.” He continued to shout for Dustin. And when you listened hard enough, you could hear him, too. Faintly, like he was in the other room. Once you noticed, everyone had started calling out to the kid, looking in the adjacent rooms. When nobody found anything you reconvened in the dining room. 

“All right, either this kid can’t hear us, or he’s being a total douchebag.” Steve wiped the sweat off his brow. You glanced at the action, quickly averting your eyes. After the conversation the boys had earlier, you couldn’t stand to look at him. 

“Will found a way.” Nancy chimed in. 

“What?” You were still confused. You were in two different dimensions. And you hadn’t been filled in on all of the little details, but you had hoped that if interdimensional communication had been figured out by this group of bozos, that one of them might have told you about it.

“Will. He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights.” This you did remember. Will had talked about Christmas lights and lamps in his room. Nancy went to the light switch and flicked it off and on a few times. “It’s not working.”

 “Hey guys. You seeing this?” Steve had turned around to point out the light fixture in the ceiling. Around it, the particles that floated around it weren’t the usual ash-like type. Instead, they were like tiny little embers glowing and floating around the lights. 

You gathered around the light, reaching up to stick your hand in the little sparks. They floated around your hand and between your fingers. And when you couldn’t think of a way to describe the feeling, Steve spoke up. 

“It… tickles.”

“Does anyone know morse code?” Nancy asked the room, and you racked your brain for the morse code you were sure you still knew from living in the trailer park. You had picked it up for fun when you had nothing better to do. Everyone said no, until Eddie finally mentioned his minor insight. 

“Wait, does SOS count?” 

You almost physically facepalmed. 

Eddie started plucking out SOS in the particles by the lights. Over and over, three dots, three dashes. You could still hear Dustin talking to who you now recognized as Lucas and Erica. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but you heard Vecna come through the veil a few times. You thought you heard Dustin mention ‘Watergate’ and ‘stupid’ in the same sentence, and you knew they had noticed. Then all the muffled talking quieted. 

You needed to clear your head, so you stepped into your room for a smoke. Unfortunately for Eddie, he had left you with his jacket, which also meant that the few cigarettes that had survived the lake were also with you. Your room looked entirely different than it had three years ago. The bed sheets were a cute pink, with frilly laced edges. Your furniture at the time had been white, but in here it looked like the remains of a house fire. You avoided any vines or weird shit on the floor and sat on your bed, pulling out and lighting a cig with Eddie’s cheapo Bic lighter. 

“Wheeler? You in here?” Eddie knocked on the doorframe as he entered the room. You realized he’d never been in your room since you moved. “Nice digs, princess.” You were too irritated with Eddie to find the nickname endearing. 

“What do you want, Munson?”

“What crawled up your ass and died? I wanted a smoke and then I realized they were in the jacket pocket. But it seems like you already knew that.” He gestured to you blowing a puff of smoke out into the room. You moved to take off his jacket and hand it back to him. 

“Here, you can have your jacket back. And what’s left of the cigs.”

He put his hand out, refusing to take it from you. “No, I know you’re cold. It’s fine.” You were cold, so you slipped it on again without argument. 

“So did you want anything? Or just your smokes?” 

“Just thought I’d check on you. It’s been a hard few days.”

“Eddie Munson checking in on me? We must be in an alternate dimension or something.”

“Ha, ha. No but really, are you okay? You’ve been kind of off today.” He sat down next to you on the bed, your legs touching just a little.

“I’m fine. Thanks, though.” You flicked ash off directly onto the bed. It felt weird, having no regard for smells or burns. At home in your real room, if Mom had caught you smoking, she’d have your ass.

“Are you sure? You’ve been weird since before we made it here.”

“Jesus Eddie, just leave it! I’m fine.” You were running out of patience for him right now. You took another stressed puff. 

“I just don’t think it would hurt to talk about it, you know? It could be good for you to-”

“Oh yeah, Munson? And why would I take any kind of advice from you? You’re the town freak for fuck’s sake.” You felt bad as soon as you’d said it. His face dropped and he looked away from you. You almost apologized, but he just had to keep talking. 

“At least I’m not still pining after some asshole who peaked in highschool.” He didn’t look up to gauge your reaction. 

“What did you say?” Now he looked at you, staring directly into your eyes. 

“You heard me. I know you’re in love with Harrington.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Eddie.” You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You forced them back, it would be all too embarrassing to cry in front of him right now, mostly because he was right. You stood up to walk out of the room, away from him. Away from this conversation. 

“Oh I don’t? The day you came to stay with me at Rick’s, why was that? You didn’t care about seeing me, you just wanted away from him because it's clear he’s still into your damn sister!”

“Shut up!” You turned to yell at him, at this point it was likely the rest of the gang had heard you two.

“Get over yourself. Harrington is in love with Nancy, and she doesn’t even want him anymore. That’s how it is. If you can’t figure that out then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.” 

“You don’t fucking get it, Eddie.” You wiped tears from the corners of your eyes. He just kept looking at you. 

“I know you probably don’t care anymore, but we were friends at one point. Before you got adopted into the Wheeler clan, you were trailer trash. Just like me. I know who you are. You’re just too pussy to admit it to yourself.” He stood up, getting in your space. “And the dumbest part is you don’t even realize how great you are. You know why I think it’s so stupid that you’re hung up on him?” He was too close, so close to your face that you could smell his last cigarette on his breath. 

“Because you could do so much better. Steve doesn’t even know how good he could have it. He doesn’t deserve you.” 

You couldn’t move. You were rooted to your spot in between your door and the bed, and Eddie was right there with you. It was hard to breathe. When it looked like he might say something else, Robin called from the next room over. 

Eddie left first. He just stepped around you out the door. You took a moment to compose yourself. You were sure your face would be splotchy. How were you supposed to react to that? Why did he say it like that? It took a lot of effort not to cry, and despite looking at the ceiling and lots of blinking, you failed. Before you could spiral into your own thoughts, you wiped your face and left, finding everyone in Nancy’s room. 

Everyone had piled around the edge of her bed. The kids had come back upstairs with something to use to help speak to them. You didn’t know what they were doing until the glowy particles materialized in front of you. It looked like a little rectangle, and you remembered Holly’s lite brite. If you weren’t literally in a different dimension, you’d hug the little shits. 

“...Seeing this?” Dustin’s voice echoed weirdly from home. Nancy swiped her hand across the little patch of light, then there was squealing and laughter from the other end. Holy shit. It was working. The kids yelled something like a command to wait and then the light changed. It was dimmer, but still there. 

“Try it now!” That shout from Dustin came through clear as day. Nancy fumbled for a moment on what to say. Then she used her finger to start writing in the light. A simple ‘HI’ sent the kids on the other side into a frenzy. 

“That worked!” They yelled. The gang started whooping and high-fiving. You smiled at Steve as he turned to give you a high-five. Once the excitement settled, Nancy started writing again, this time spelling slowly a few letters at a time. She got through three letters of the word ‘stuck’ before the little square of light was full, and she waited for it to dissipate before adding the last letters. 

“Stuck. They’re stuck in the Upside Down.” They worked it out, and Dustin asked a few questions. “You can’t go back through Watergate?”

“What the hell’s Watergate?” Steve asked out loud. Robin filled him in. 

“‘Cause it’s in water, and it’s a gate.”

“Oh. That’s cute.” 

Nancy started writing again. Her usual penmanship rocks, but letters written with a finger on a multidimensional lightboard were not her strong suit. Still, she managed to spell out ‘guarded’ for the kids to read. 

“Okay, uh Watergate’s guarded.” Dustin’s voice made it sound like he was talking to you while you had cotton in your ears. “We think we have a theory that can help with that!”

Robin kept saying things that made you giggle, praising the kids and being goofy. “Genius child.” She moved her hands like she was praying. 

“We think Watergate isn’t the only gate. We think that there’s a gate at every murder site.” You were pretty sure you knew what he meant, but the rest of the group needed help, so Nancy drew a question mark in the ash. Dustin was audibly upset on the other end.

“Okay. Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?” He was basically shouting by the end of his sentence. 

“Jesus Christ, this kid’s gotta get his ego in check.” Steve chimed in at the outburst.

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie added. You were almost annoyed at them getting along. But Nancy had figured it out. 

“Okay. So- So how far is your trailer?” 

“Seven miles.” Eddie answered almost immediately. You chose to believe that it was because he dropped Mike off so often from Hellfire. 

The group went quiet for a second for everyone to think of the best way to get seven miles, until Robin made a damn good point. “Nancy? I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit, but haven’t you always had bikes?”

Everyone grabbed a bike and started riding. Luckily, there were enough for the five of you, thanks to You, Nancy, and Mike having gotten new bikes around the time this dimension spawned. Eddie led the way to his, staying around big empty areas so you didn’t need to worry too much about vines. 

The ride was relatively quiet, save for when Steve almost fell off the small bike. The air in the Upside Down was cold, but humid. Your skin felt damp and clammy the whole time you’d been in this damned place, but you didn’t care enough. It had been a while since the last time you’d ridden a bike so far, so you were mainly focused on not needing to stop. 

When everyone made it to Eddie’s trailer, the bikes were discarded at the door. Eddie opened the door and you took in the sight. In the years that passed since you were last at the Munson household, it hadn’t changed much. 

“Right here.” Eddie stopped in the living room. Everyone looked up, where another gross fleshy membranous hole seemed to be growing into the ceiling. “This is where Chrissy died. Like, right where she died.” 

You watched Eddie’s expression change from tired to haunted as he remembered exactly what happened the night Chrissy Cunningham came to him to buy drugs, and was greeted with a dark ending. You wanted to comfort him. You now understood a little of what he had gone through, but he had been alone. You stayed where you were. 

The gate in the roof started moving, pulsating and squelching. The sound was enough to make you want to gag again.

“What the hell is that?” You all started moving away from underneath the gate, watching as chunks of the stuff fell to the floor. Suddenly something had torn through the gate completely, something like a stick. 

When the gate had finally been cleared, the gang slowly walked forward to look up inside, finding Dustin smiling his goofy grin at you, upside down and laughing. The relief in the room was palpable. 

“Hi there!” Dustin and the others waved at you. 

“Hi,” Robin was the only one who answered. 

“Holy shit this is trippy.”

The kids left to find things for you guys to climb up and fall onto. You could hear struggling from the other side of the gate when they threw a dirty mattress onto the ground right above you. Or was it below you? You noted the discoloration on the fabric and made a pointed look at Eddie. 

“Those stains are, uh… I don’t know what those stains are.” You laughed. You were in such a state of relief that you let yourself forget that you were upset with him. You worried about the stains for a moment before deciding you didn’t want to know what the real source was. 

Dustin was holding a bunch of sheets they had tied into a decent sized rope. 

“Not quite sure how these physics work. But, uh… here goes nothing.” He threw one end of the makeshift rope through their side and into yours, holding on to one end of it. “There we go. And if my theory is correct…” He let go of their end, and the rope seemed to just hold, in midair. The idea of it hurt your head, but you reminded yourself that you were dealing with interdimensional portals, so at this point, nothing made sense. “Holy shit. Alright, pull on it, see if it holds!”

Robin stepped forward and grabbed on with both hands, using all of her weight to yank on the sheets, and it stayed in place perfectly. Dustin laughed with glee on his side. 

Erica commented on the situation. “This is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen some crazy shit.” 

Robin went through first. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.” She tugged the rope a few more times for good measure, and started climbing. 

The kids got out of the way for her to jump through, and just as she passed the threshold of the gate, she fell through onto the mattress. 

One by one, the rest of you went through. Eddie, then you. You refused to take his hand when offered to help you get up, instead using your own to pick yourself up off the mattress. 

You waited for Steve and Nancy to come through, but just as Steve started to climb up, Nancy froze.

Her eyes rolled back into her head. 

| Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6 | Pt.7 |

[brienneoftarth1989]

Undercover part 8

Miranda Hilmarson x fem reader

Previous / Next / Series

Summary: You didn’t know what to do except the only thing that came natural to you. That was to capture her but just before you managed to do so she alerted the rest of her unit. You were screwed!

Warnings: gangs, violence

Requests open

———————————

The two of you fought as you tried your hardest to keep Miranda on the floor. “Jesus Christ Raphael! Help me!” You screamed at him as you were trying your hardest to stop her from getting up. The main advantage Miranda had was her height which meant she was able to wiggle around a lot easier than most.

You watched as one of her arms slipped out of your grasp as it made its way to a hidden walkie talkie. “Mayday, mayday! I’ve been caught” Miranda shouted as the information was fed onto the other officers that had the other walkie.

Great, this was just what you needed. You grabbed the mic and the walkie before tossing it across the room so Miranda couldn’t use it anymore. “You’re gonna regret this Miranda” you sternly told her as you grabbed her arm while Raphael grabbed the other.

“What are you going to do with me?” Miranda asked you with nothing but fear in her voice. “I don’t know yet but trust me you are going to get what you deserve Miranda” you told her sternly. The truth was you had no idea what you would do with her. Deep down you knew that you didn’t want to hurt her.

You gave Raphael the look to say you wanted him to help you drag her to the white room. The two of you securely gripped her arms as you dragged her through the warehouse and into the white room. Your other crew mates were all staring wondering what the hell she had done.

“Oh fuck Miranda! You’re screwed. The last person that messed with the boss is now chopped up in a suitcase at the bottom of the ocean” you heard one of them laugh. You watched as Miranda’s face went pale from the thought. Well they weren't wrong but the truth was you really didn’t think you could go through with the same plan.

You didn’t even think that you could even go through with the torture. You really didn’t want to have to do anything but she has brought this on herself. It wasn’t long before you were standing in front of the white room door.

You leant forward before opening the door and chucking Miranda inside letting her hit the floor. “She does not come out until I say so. She gets one meal a day which will consist of two slices of plain bread. She can have up to three glasses of water a day as well. Other than that she gets nothing” you told Raphael before storming out and heading up to your office.

“What happened boss?” You heard one of your crew ask. “She’s a cop and she was gathering dirt on us. You can’t trust anyone and do me a favour make sure no one leaves” you told him as you continued to walk up to your office.

As soon as you got there you sat down in your chair before taking a deep breath. “Ahhhh fuck!” You screamed as you threw your notepad across the room. This was not what you had in mind when you hired Miranda. Why did she have to be a fucking cop? You wondered to yourself.

You grabbed your phone and sent out a text to everyone that worked for you. ‘Get back to the warehouse now! There has been a huge breach. Make sure you are not followed.’

You sent the text and it wasn’t long before everyone had thumbed up the text to say they had seen it. You placed your head in your hands not knowing what to do and how to go about this. If Miranda had alerted the cops then it wouldn’t be long before they would be all over the city searching for her.

You stood up from your chair quickly before making your way back downstairs. “The rest of the crew are on their way back. When they get here you make sure no one leaves and no ones comes in” you told the bloke that was managing the front door.

“Why is this such a big deal, boss? It’s not like she was anyone to us” they asked you clearly thinking that you were overreacting. You grabbed him by the collar before pushing him to the floor. “I will tell you why this is such a big deal. Because she is a fucking cop! For all we know her colleagues know the exact location of our whereabouts and are on their way. We are all fucked if that is the case” you told him before you walked away and made your way to the white room again.

You entered the room to see Miranda still laying on the floor very clearly crying. “What are you going to do with me?” Miranda asked with nothing but fear behind her voice. “Nothing at the moment but depending on how you answer my next question will depend on what I decide to do with you. Now I hope you remember what happened to the last person I tortured” you told Miranda.

“What is it that you want to know?” Miranda asked you. “Do they know where we are?” You asked her sternly letting her know that you weren’t messing around. “No. I had a device which would have revealed my location if I ever needed to however I didn’t get a chance to press it” she told you.

“Good” you sighed. “But they do know roughly where your hangout is based. There is a good chance they will be out here soon scoping the area trying to find me” Miranda truthly told you. “For fuck sake” you screamed as you stormed out the white room.

“They know where we are. No one leaves!” You shouted to everyone. You were glad she told you the truth but none of this would have happened if she wasn’t an undercover officer this entire time. You made your way back up to your office trying to figure out what to do.

You need to try and come up with a plan to try and make it seem like you are torturing here when deep down you know you're not. You can’t let the crew think you have gone soft otherwise they will all turn their back on you.

When you got to the office you grabbed your laptop and opened up a document titled Miranda. You needed to come up with ways to torture her without physically laying a hand on her. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do that.

That is when a brilliant idea came to mind. If you couldn’t torture her physically then you would torture her mentally. You started to write down a list of all the possible things that you could do to her. The first thing on your list was sleep deprivation. She was already going through solitary confinement but it couldn’t hurt to keep going with that.

You also decided to go with fear and humiliation, threats around death and injury even if that wasn’t true as well as light deprivation. You also decided to write a list of demands. You knew that if Miranda had been scoping you out then the police knew what you were up to and what you had done.

There was also no way in hell that you were going down without a fight. Some of them were really random but some were also quite useful. The first was enough food to feed your crew and the second was a getaway car. There was a good chance they would follow these demands but you had to be careful because they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

With everything you needed now sorted you saved the document before heading back downstairs to see what was going on. “Raphael! What seems to be the situation?” You asked him as you stood next to him. “Everyone is back and counted for but the main problem we have now is the cops are coming. They still haven’t found us yet but they are getting closer. Their sirens are getting closer” he told you.

You sighed to yourself not really sure what to do. “Alright listen up. I don’t know how long we have but soon this place is going to be surrounded. I am not going to make anyone stay that doesn’t want to. If you want to leave you are welcome to do so but I suggest you leave out the back. I think it would look suspicious if a load of trucks suddenly left the area” you shouted out.

Everyone looked around at each other but no one moved. Everyone looked back in your direction letting you know that they plan to stay. “I appreciate everything you guys have done for this crew and I’m glad you have all decided to stay” you shouted out once again.

You stood with your crew and waited. After about 15 minutes the first cop car showed up and it wasn’t long before the rest of the unit was sat there with them waiting for you to make the first move.

“Alright listen up! No one does anything unless I say so. That is how everything goes wrong. So promise me, no heroes and no rogues! Now, let’s get ready for war!”

[amberjazmyn]

impromptu sibling counselling

𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮 - impromptu sibling counselling 

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 - foul language, crying, older brother jared x reader, talk of bullying

𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 - after an awful day at school, jared's youngest sister julianna (jules) is taken too far and freaks out after jared jokingly chucks some water over her school uniform. this then turns into the weirdest but most meaningful sibling counselling session between the elder and youngest padalecki 

𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 - this is an already published imagine from a different book so, if you have already read the other version beforehand, i hope you like this version! 

masterlist

- - - 

𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

huffing and puffing with anger from the school day i just finished, i slumped myself onto the couch in the lounge room. picking up the tv remote to turn on the tv before i throw the remote back down quite harshly. a rerun of supernatural played back to me on the tv on the cw as i hunched forward, playing my chin into my hands as i thought back about how today at school went. what a day it is to be a seventeen-year-old girl who is still trying to figure everything out whilst still having to deal with the dramas of secondary school. to say i was mad was an understatement. you'd think being jules padalecki, jared padalecki's younger sister is easy but, honesty, whilst i love being his younger sister, it is not as easy by any means. especially when rumours about you and your boyfriend michael are made every single day. 

the reason why i was so made was because a rumour was made about my boyfriend michael. it wasn't just any old rumour, it was said that michael had cheated on me with a girl called cassidy, the school's bully. of course i got upset because cassidy literally gives me hell every single day at school and most days, michael stands up for me but, not today apparently! and the thing was, every other time with these rumours, michael would always defend himself and say that it wasn't true. however, this time he didn't even try to defend himself, he just shrugged his shoulders and then walked away with a smile on his face as the bell rang, signalling the next lesson.

unfortunately, i should have realised i wasn't home alone as when i did violently chuck the tv remote back, wincing at the memory that not only was sadie, jared and i's dog home but so was jensen, misha and rob, some of jared's supernatural castmates. jesus christ, jules, you couldn't have been more aggressive, could you? 

however, after being pestered a few times by jensen, rob trying to shut him up, i was now quite focused on watching this rerun of supernatural. that, because of that, i only lost my focus when i noticed a weird cool breeze that was dripping down the white collared shirt i had to wear for the private school i attend...

...that was when i realised, the other two castmates, alex and my brother jared were home. but, that just made me even more confused why i was suddenly cold and the cold breeze was down my shirt...i swear to all the motherfucking angels and saints, jared did not just do what i think he's just done. 

then, i realised it was him due to the giggles that i could hear coming from behind me that obviously sounded like jared. it was obvious because he was the only one in the house that laughs like he laughs. fuck sake jared, you big piece of shit! 

"...JARED TRISTAN MOTHERFUCKING PADALECKI! I'M GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU!" i scream out from the top of my lungs, jumping off the couch 

i look down and immediately notice that i was completely soaked, the black lace bra i had stolent from gen, jared's wife, showing through completely. my shirt shirt completely transparent whilst my checkered skirt was also covered in water as well. well, okay, do i have permission to murder my older brother, who if this happened any other day, i'd cry over if i actually did go through with my murder plot? 

"try me jules!" jared responded, completely calm and collected with a cheeky smirk on his face

not recognising at all that the reason i screamed wasn't because i was mad about the water but because of everything else that had happened before this. i wasn't completely mad at jared, it was just him pouring water over me was the straw that broke the camel's back. 

"i fucking will try you, don't even think i wouldn't jared!" i was way too mad, blinded by the fact that this new rumour about michael that i had no clue if it was true or not truly took over all my emotions 

that was when jared's smile faded away and noticed that it wasn't him or the impromptu water fight that made me mad but a truly different thing that was completely unrelated. 

"hey...jules,what's wrong girly. you're never this angry," jared's voice softened and he moved closer and held my hands tightly in an effort to get me to his level of calm and serenity 

i was just about to explain when someone knocked on the door. followed by the very voice of the very person i was not wanting to talk to at this point in time. 

"...jules, i'm sorry i didn't defend you! cassidy is an asshole, she's a wh--bitch...you know i'd never do something like that i..." 

"...shut up michael, get out!" i raise my voice as tears well in my eye line, everyone in sudden shock at my outburst of my voice raising yet again - michael not understanding my request

"but please, just let me explain jules, i promise it wasn't any--" 

"--GET OUT MICHAEL! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!" this time i allow myself to scream as my voice falters, ready for the tears that were yet to stream down my face in devastation, anger, grief and every other heartbroken emotion a human being could feel 

"...jules, what happened? why did michael mention cassidy?" boom, hearing jared say michael and cassidy's names out loud, i broke and immediately lost it

this caused worry for jared and the rest of the cast that were here watching all of this in an instant. i broke down into tears, doubling over myself as i hugged myself, in an attempt to protect myself from everything, even though i knew i wasn't in any immediate danger. jared instantly reacted and pull me into his arms for a hug to calm my cries down. 

"hey...hey..ssh, it's okay jules. what's wrong sweetheart? what did he do?" jared attempted to calm me down, his voice calm, soft and patient as i tried to allow myself to catch my breath

in the attempt that i could explain what happened and why those two things, the water fight and seeing michael set me off the way it did. 

"he...he cheated on me...me with cas...cassidy!" i sobbed out and as soon as i said those words, silence happened and you could hear a pin drop from the utter shock and tension that filled the room 

"he did what?" jared question, a wave of (rare) anger in his voice that i've only heard for now the second time in my entire life as i sobbed again before repeating my statement 

"i...i mean...i...i think he cheated on me. i mean...that...that's the newest rumour at school..." i trailed off as i sniffled, attempting to wipe away my tears as i noticed the way misha, jensen, alex and rob were reacting in the background and they did not seem happy at all 

"...who started this rumour?" misha's anger-ridden voice comes next as he stops pacing for a moment as i respond to him, noticing he had his arms crossed over his chest as a sign of anger

"cassidy, it's always her that starts them yet she's never the one who gets in trouble, it's always someone else that takes the fall for her, whether they know it or not," i responded as i had slowly started to stop crying and jared had sat us both down on the couch with a tv commerical playing in the background

"now that we know that cassidy started it like always, did michael attempt to speak against it like he always does?" rob is next to question, his voice a lot more calmly but it was obvious from his expressions and body language that he too was mad like misha and jared 

"no, this time he just shrugged his shoulders, smiled and then walked off as the bell for the next class sounded..." trailing off, this infruiated jared and rob, as did it with jensen, misha and alex as i also shrugged my shoulders 

"...did you at least try to allow him to tell you his side of the story or did you refuse to hear it because, from his response, you thought he was agreeing with the rumour? and thought that, his actions were clear enough to let you know your thoughts on the matter?" jensen questioned sincerely, taking a less angered turn even though he was mad

"no...i refused because, as you said, it seemed as if his lack of defence of the rumour meant that it spoke louder than any explanation could. so, i just, determined that cassidy was right and that he did cheat on me..." once again i trailed off, wrapping my arms around my stomach, a weird comfort thing i weirdly picked up as a kid that's stayed with me ever since 

jared then shakes his head, absolutely appalled about what was going on, "...oh, jules, sweetie, maybe actually allow him to explain himself. as, when he did come over, he was very quick to attempt to explain himself before you cut him off entirely," jared spoke up, his finger coming up underneath my eye gently as he wipes a tear from my cheek 

"maybe, i don't know what to do jare. i don't know if i can trust him but, i..i love him so much. i really do but, just, hearing new rumours every single day i walk through those halls is exhausting. i pretended for so long that it didn't bother me but i...i can't pretend anymore...i...i just can't..." i trailed off as i hugged myself tighter as jared sighed before enveloping me and kissing my head 

"...everything will be okay jules. don't forget, you're still a kid, everything will fall into place, i promise. just, think about me, everything fell into place as if it was destined to happen. do you think i ever gave up? if you actually allow michael to explain himself, everything will fall back into place and it will all be okay again. i don't think it's in michael to actually do anything malvolent or malicious. i think cassidy however, has it in her to be malvolent and malicious and that's exactly what she's doing. why wouldn't you want to trust michael, what else has michael done that tells you you shouldn't be trusting him?" jared was right but he was always like this, always believing in the positives of life as i smiled towards my older brother 

for a little bit of context, jared has been like this ever since an uncle of ours died in february of 2016. and he's never let go of the fact that, whilst it hurt and still hurts, it happened for a reason and he ended up finding the positive of our uncle's death. so, that's how jared and i go about our daily life now. and, no matter what happens, something positive will happen and everything will fall back into its correct spot and everything will be okay again. 

and, what do you know? jared was completely right. of course he was. after letting michael to tell his side of the story, basically as soon as jared told me i should, i did and i listened as michael told me everything that had happened. and, i shouldn't have jumped straight to the conclusion that michael cheated on me with cassidy. because, of course, jared was right and i truly had no reason to not trust michael. michael doesn't have it in himself to be malvolent and malicious but cassidy does and, michael got cassidy to actually admit the truth and say that she did make up the story because she was jealous that i could "get" any guy i want whereas she couldn't. yeah, i wonder why cassidy. i wonder why you can't get any guy you want and i quote can. 

- - - 

i do like this fic i will not lie! i hope you guys do too! i like brother x jared so, i might do more of these! 

ily x

word count; 2140

[shurisneakers]

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch. 

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.” 

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was. 

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them. 

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest. 

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods. 

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist. 

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free. 

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing. 

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack. 

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel. 

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously. 

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.” 

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky. 

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it. 

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again. 

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper. 

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back. 

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house. 

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?” 

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches. 

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t. 

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats. 

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it. 

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects. 

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over. 

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part 

[a-queer-seminarian]

Do you believe that God condemns anyone to Hell, or are we all going to wind up in Heaven?

Short answer? do i believe in hell? hell no!

[id: a cross stitch of the infamous "Hell Is Real" sign in Ohio, but with the word NOT added so it reads "Hell is NOT real" / end id. I sewed this cuz i have to drive past this dang sign every time i drive home and it makes me so cranky.]

___

Long answer?

The concept of hell has become less and less probable to me over the years. it seems like such a human solution to the problem of sin, not a Divine one.

This past year as i've studied the concept of prison abolition --

see Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis (free pdf online)

and, for a Christian view on how fundamentally messed up the US's prison system is, see Rethinking Incarceration by Dominique DuBois Giliard. (There are short vids and study guides for the latter, if reading isn't your thing / if you'd prefer those over paying for the book.)

-- and i find that many of the arguments against human prisons could also be argued against hell, which is really just The Ultimate Prison. Hell seems much like the punitive system we've got going on here, blown up to a supernatural size.

In Rethinking Incarceration, Giliard says that dealing with systemic problems and collective sin by choosing which individuals are The Problem and proceeding to Get Rid Of Them by chucking them in prison -- or hell -- is an unjust human solution, not a Divine solution.

He relates this to the harmful theology of penal substitution -- that the reason God became incarnate in the person of Jesus was simply to take the blame for all our wrongdoing -- to be the surrogate, or substitute, for the punishment all humanity would otherwise have to receive. But, Giliard writes,

Penal substitution is most problematic because it makes God’s response to sin too much like our own. It is a sort of recasting of God in our own image, as opposed to allowing the divinely inspired Scriptures to speak for God’s motives. Marshall also writes that “restoration, not retribution, is the hallmark of God’s justice and is God’s final word in history.”

God's justice is not that punitive kind of justice, but restorative. Jesus's whole life, and death, and resurrection together brings justice into our world because through all of it, the relationship between humanity and divinity was restored -- not because Jesus took the punishment that God would have slammed down on us.

{edit: I have a second post addressing how there are indeed parts of the Bible that depict God as punishing individuals or groups. Still, punishment is never the motive of Divine justice in scripture.)

If punishment is not God's justice, and neither is severed relationship, then hell, the ultimate punishment & place of isolation, is not God's justice.

Meanwhile, we can see the bad fruits of our punitive justice systems here on earth -- what happens when we accept that society is divided into "criminals" and "good people" or "citizens." As Giliard writes:

When we lose sight of the grace and mercy exemplified on the cross of Christ, people who have violated right relationship become irredeemable “criminals” to fear, avoid, and quarantine. When “criminals” are viewed as the social cancer infecting our communal health, safety, and thriving, we cease to see and affirm their humanity. Rather than fellow image bearers, we see “criminals” as hazardous elements contaminating our neighborhoods, and they thus must be purged by any means necessary. Michelle Alexander writes, “Criminals, it turns out, are the one social group in America we have permission to hate. In ‘colorblind’ America, criminals are the new whipping boys. They are entitled to no respect and little moral concern.” ...

I see similar things happen when people pretend they can guess who is going to hell, when they divide humanity into the heavenbound and the hellbound.

(I won't go into it here but it needs to be noted: think about who is seen as prison-bound, how our system sets up certain groups, such as Black and Latine persons & other persons of color, to end up in prison; and then think of who is often seen as hellbound, such as LGBTQA+ persons & non-Christians. Bigotry is tangled up in all this, which is what Giliard's book largely focuses on when it comes to mass incarceration.)

when we assume we know someone is doomed to hell, we give up on them. we cease to see them as one of us, and one of God's beloved children made in Their image. i'd rather assume there is no hell and find out i'm wrong about that later, than live as if i thought there were a hell if there isn't.

and of course, if we assume we ourselves are headed to hell -- particularly by fearmongerers who teach that being LGBTQA+, or Black, or disabled, or not Christian, any manner of things sends you there -- well. i think the bad fruits of that are quite clear, including how it leads us to despair, to fall into the pit of self-loathing. we either punish ourselves and isolate ourselves and harm ourselves by trying to fix what is not broken, or we say "fuck it, i'm going to hell anyway" and cut ourselves off from certain community.

_______

Prison is an easy solution, but not a fruitful one. Same with Hell. It's an easy fix, but not a viable one.

Throwing certain Bad Irredeemable Humans into the pit won't make the humans who are left fit for God's Kin(g)dom -- we all have work to do on ourselves and as a collective community.

God calls us to the much longer and more difficult work of repentance, reform, and rebuilding -- here and now and in the world to come.

Again I turn to Giliard:

Scripture consistently reveals that restoration, not punitive punishment, is at the heart of God’s justice. Biblical justice does include retribution, but not exclusively. Biblical justice cannot be solely defined by it. The more accurate description of biblical justice is restorative justice. Biblically, justice is a divine act of reparation where breached relationships are renewed and victims, offenders, and communities are restored. Justice, therefore, is about relationships and our conduct within them. Justice asks, How is righteousness embodied and exuded in how I live in relation to God, neighbor, and creation? In fact, Scripture could be read as the narrative of God’s restorative justice unfolding in the world.

No prisons. No hell. No punishment for punishment's sake -- but resources provided to make repentance and reconciliation possible. No severing of some humans from the rest of humanity, or from the Body of Christ -- but restored relationships.

_____

Will the restoration happen before heaven begins? Maybe. Then I'd say there is some sort of purgatory state in between (because purgatory isn't a place of punishment, but of, well, purging away all that is corrupt and harmful). But not a permanent hell. Not a place made for punishing or discarding.

______

because the belief and fear of hell has done so much damage, i refuse to hold to a belief in hell. and hey, if it turns out there is one, fine! it doesn't change how i should live my life:

in the end, whether hell is or is not real, i should live my life the same way -- loving God, neighbor and creation with all that i am, and doing my part to live into God's Kin(g)dom where the oppressed are lifted up, and the oppressors have their own violence exposed to them for the evil it is so that they may begin the hard work of reforming their ways.

____

For more excerpts from Rethinking Incarceration, see this Google Doc.

for more stuff about hell, see my hell tag over on my other blog.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jack Bass x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Bass's.

Notes:

I have no idea when this is supposed to be set. Just go with it.

I have two things to say about Jack in this gif, though. 1. Does he not know how to carry a tray. And 2. I love this statement, here. Its like 'Bart's Dead, Chuck. I can barely contain my joy, Chuck. Its taking all my willpower, Chuck, to keep a monotonous expression. Also Chuck I am carrying a tray, do you see this?'

Plot: Bart Bass decides to be his creepy fucking self (Not that Jack is exponentially better in any way but whatever) towards you, Chuck's best friend- but thankfully, Jack accidentally walks in on the scene and gives you a get out of jail free card.

Good old 'lesser of two evils' shit. I love stuff like that.

Warnings: BART BASS being predatory, and a bit of age difference (You and Jack. I'm going by actors ages though so there's only a, like, 11 year age gap between him and Chuck which is not that bad if you ask me). Sexual references.

~~~

Chuck looks from his phone, that's flashing Blairs name, to you and your big, wide eyes and lips mouthing 'Don't you dare', then to his father quietly tapping away on his phone on the couch a few feet away... then back at his phone.

"Charles- " You hiss, prepared to threaten his very existence but he cuts you off first- slipping off the bar stool beside you and heading for the hallway.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Why am I friends with him again!? You think, but stay quiet and hope that Bart doesn't realise that you're back there despite having said hello to you earlier when he came in. You think, if you stay quiet like a mouse, he will forget your existence and keep texting until Chuck gets back- although, who knows how long he and Blair can go on for.

Depends what its about, honestly. If its about revenge or espionage... well, the conversation could last quite some time.

Should I just leave?

The impulse to run away is a strong one, as you sit there with your cheeks heating up and you start to feel nauseated. You never liked Bart Bass, from the moment you met him. Before that, actually. You had heard Chuck talking about him to Nate before you even became friends with them, and none of what you heard was good. And then you did meet him, one day when Chuck invited you over to do a school project. Or 'school project' as he so obnoxiously put it. You really did end up just doing a school project, though. Hence your friendship nowadays. Bart was creepy towards you even then, at 16 with terribly died hair and the wrong eyeshadow.

You've been very careful since then to never be alone with him like this. You would talk to him at parties if you were forced to, say hello to him when Chuck had you at his place and the man walked by, but that is the extent of your communication with the creep. Always, always, someone would be around. Chuck, mostly. But also staff, or Nate, or random fundraiser ladies, or Jack who Chuck the bastard never left alone with all willy-nilly like this, unfortunately, or Lily, or literally anyone else possible on the earth.

You've even hidden away in the men's bathroom, which is disgusting no matter how expensive the restaurant, with Nate before to get away from this man when Chuck once ditched you both at a dinner with him. And that's the story of how you got your first kiss, too, and it was from Nate Archibald. Hell yes.

That's how much this man makes you want to grab your bag and flee.

But you don't. You stay glued to your seat, super still, listening only to the tap-tap-tapping noises that Bart makes and the bump-bump-bump noises your heart is making right into your throbbing ears.

Until it stops.

Not the bump-bump-bumping, oh no. The tapping. And, nightmarishly, it's replaced by a groan and footsteps coming towards your turned back.

"Y/N," As soon as he says your name, his hands fall on your your shoulders and you literally jump under his touch. Shit- Shit- Fuck- what's happening- "I've been meaning to speak with you recently but Chuck- ah. Well you know him. He refused to share with me your telephone number. But I knew you'd turn up here at some point, so not to worry."

"Uh... right." You cant even force yourself to be your normal, cheery, polite self in this position. You just want him to get. off. of. you.

"Did you want a drink?" He asks, in that possibly cheery (But only because its slightly louder then his usual husk level) but mostly still scary voice he uses to convey emotion, letting go of you thankfully and rounding to the other side of the bar. You shake your head, though. He raises his brows, picking out a scotch for himself. "You don't drink? Shocking, seeing as you're friends with my son."

Oh I drink. You think, giving him a shrug. Just not in situations like this one. Also, what must he think of Chuck? Jesus Christ. For sure, your boy likes debauchery but what's wrong with that?

"Well, I like that." Bart pauses before pouring his drink, to appreciate you. "Mature."

Damn it. It makes your skin absolutely crawl.

"So... " You take a deep breath, tucking your hair back behind your ears rather then ruffling it back like you usually would to get it out of your face- lest that be recognised as some kind of extremely subtle form of flirting. God, fear makes you think weird things. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Oh- Just, your future. Where are you going to school? Will you be sticking close to us?"

Us? US? No, I'll be far far away, from you.

You don't really want to tell Bart where you're going to be going to school, because in your fear addled brain you know that that will just lead to 'Which campus?', or 'Where will you be staying?' and you really don't want it to go there.

You're just taking another, shakier deep breath, when the front door of the apartment opens and shuts loudly and set of feet trample down the hallway towards you. Immediately total relief plashes over you and you wipe your face. Oh, thank god.

Jack Bass appears in the doorway to the living room, looking as put-together yet somehow simultaneously still totally relaxed, as always, and forces aa polite smile onto his handsome face. "Brother. Y/N? Its good to see you."

You have no idea. "Good to see you too Jack. Uh- Chuck's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. For that... enlightening, information, Y/N. I needed that." You cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but ultimately you just roll your eyes as Jack flashes you a subtle wink, and turns promptly to his - much, - older brother. "Bart."

The older brother in question looks less then pleased at his baby brothers appearance in his home. Right now. And he possibly isn't thrilled about that little wink, either. Like you two are in on some kind of joke together. "Jack... What are you doing here?"

"Simmer down, bro. Just visiting." Even you know that that excuse is weak, but anything that comes out Jack's own monotonous voice right now is blessed where you're concerned so you certainly don't say anything. Or make any faces, which would be more appropriate. "Y/N, I don't think Bart-man here's too happy about my presence." Hm, no. You'd have to agree with that observation- not that you've looked up at Bart since Jack came in. You wont risk it. Jack glides through the room with the practised grace of a man who's lived 3 quarters of his life in suits and the other, happier quarter in board shorts, and ends up right next to your chair, an arm resting on the bench in front of you.

If you weren't already so nervous about Bart, you would blush about Jack.

"At least tell me you're glad to see me."

You grin, which is less forced then you thought it would be prior to trying it. Damn, he's good. You think, realising he just swepped in here and made you comfortable in less then 50 words. "Always, 'Uncle Jack'."

"Oh," He groans, like it physically pained him to hear you tease him like that. A tiny smirk even slips through his usually emotionless - well, not emotionless. He has one standing colour, that being sly, - stone statue of a face. "'Uncle Jack'- Please, stop. I'm barely a decade older then you."

That's enough to make anything else possible, inappropriate. Unfortunately. "Hey, I said I'm glad to see you." You wink, a bit sly yourself. "Count your blessings."

His grin widens a bit, like the dangerously charming Cheshire cat-type that he is. Genes that Chuck inherited, clearly, if his track record with girls say anything at all, but that Bart obviously missed out on. "You've got a point."

"She's a remarkable young woman." Bart pipes up, making your stomach tie itself up in knots again, and you immediately revert your gaze to your lap. Remarkable young woman... you want to barf. "Who, I was actually having a conversation with before you burst in here, unannounced." He takes a slow sip of his drink, then mutters. "And uninvited."

"Well that's great." Jack straightens up, clapping his hands together and finally showing his teeth in a smile. They're really freaken white, compared to his skin, deeply tanned by the hot Australian sun. "A visit would be kinda uncomfortable without a conversation; I'll join. I can converse with the best of 'em, Bart. I assure you."

"It was private." The old man sneers, thinking that he's got the upper hand on Jack, and all you can do is hope to god that he's wrong.

Jack turns his head back to look at you, and you meet his gaze tentatively. Your eyes scream, 'Please don't leave me alone with that guy'. He promptly looks back to Bart. "Well Bart why don't we ask the lady in the room what she wants? We are gentlemen here aren't we?" Then Jack makes a face, all crumpled up and unsure, for a moment. "Err. Well actually... 'gentleman' might be a bold faced lie. We'll ask anyway. Y/N! Do you mind if I weigh in here?"

"Not at all." You say quickly, flashing a tiny, thankful smile. He gives you another wink- this time actually subtle. So Bart didn't see it. Your smile gets a little bit bigger, relaxing. He's got you.

"Great." You watch him pull out the stool beside you, that Chuck - who has still not returned from his phone call with Blair. You assume some, likely cruel vengeance must be involved. Possibly involving that Humphrey guy, - had vacated and settles down in it. He then sets his arms firmly on the bench and looks up attentively at Bart, not breaking eye contact with him. Boy these Bass's like their stare downs. "So?" He prompts, expectantly. And a little arrogantly- a Bass speciality that you truly don't mind at all. "What's on the agenda, today?"

Bart glares heatedly, back.

~

Throughout the awkward discussion between the three of you, which your good friend Chuck has yet to return to discover - at this point you're resigned to him having climbed out the window and scaled the building probably, - , Jack constantly, skilfully changes the subject for you whenever Bart rears to close to somewhere uncomfortable. He makes jokes that make you laugh, he nudges you with his elbow at times - but never touches you any more then that, although you honestly wouldn't mind it if he did, - and takes the attention off you a lot. At times you truly thought you saw steam come out of Bart's ears.

When finally Bart gives up and excuses himself, saying he as an early dinner with Lily, you feel exhausted and relieved. After the door swings shut behind him, you cover your face with your hands and deeply sigh.

"So, what was that about? You looked like a trapped mouse. I recognise that look, I invented that look." You pull back slightly from your hands and glance over at him, to see him thoughtful for a moment. "Well, not by making it. By... causing... it... Either way, it was not good." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his own drink - scotch, - that he made Bart pour for him; Raising his eyebrows at you for an explanation over the rim of the glass.

Jack's always been great, like this. Even when he was horrible, he was the lesser of two evils between him and Bart. Good for a laugh and quality eye candy in a pinch- and that counts for a hell of a lot when it comes to surviving Bart Bass and the Upper East Side. And he had the power and pull of an adult, but knew what the hell was going on like one of you.

So he always made you feel at ease.

You ruffle your hair back, and sigh, straightening your back finally from their hunched over position they live in when you're uncomfortable and pushing back your shoulders. "He was just, saying some weird stuff... and Chuck disappeared to talk to Blair." At that, Jack nods in total understanding. Like ah, yeah. Got ya. Finally, you shrug. "He just makes me really uncomfortable. No offence, but I hate your brother."

As you watch Jack's eyes don't even flicker; He's totally on board with what you've said. Then he finishes the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Ahh- I hate him too."

"As do we all." Chuck's voice suddenly pops up, as he appears in the doorway like Jack had earlier. You have to practice some serious self control so as to not laugh, at Chuck so coincidentally turning up again at the perfect moment to proclaim his hatred for his father. Jack grins back at Chuck coldly, nodding. Yeah. "Anyway, Y/N, I apologise but I'll be having to abandon you. Blair's waiting for me at her, empty, apartment." He pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, in perfect Chuck Bass fashion, and you roll your eyes, grinning. Jack smirks. "But you're welcome to stick around a while and help yourself to the amenities All on my tab, of course. Good to see you again, Jack." Then he pockets his phone and heads toward the door. The second Bass of the day leaves the building.

"Bye, nephew!" Jack waives as the elevator doors close behind Chuck then swiftly turns around back to you, to which you raise your eyebrows. "So, what do we do now?"

"I dunno." Shrugging you grin and turn your stool to angle your legs towards Jack. "When Chuck says those magical words 'All on my tab'," Those words, oh; You speak them with just as much raw, breathy sexual arousal as the man himself would. As the words demand. 'All on my tab'. Good lord, sex if they were words. "I tend to take advantage."

"An easy girl to please; That's what I like to see." Your cheeks flame up at those words out of Jack's mouth as he turns to look down at the room service menu. Yes, Jack Bass has toed the line, between platonic and flirtatious since the very moment you met the man... but that seemed a little bit more then toeing the line.

And you get a far different reaction to him doing it then you do the other Bass brother.

You don't even really mind the implications of his words.

"You're staying back with me?" You ask, feeling hopeful at the idea.

"Yeah well, I cant in, uh, good conscience," He makes a bit of a show to you, of pressing his hand to his chest totally earnestly as those words 'good conscience' come out of his mouth. "leave you here unguarded in case Bart comes back, can I? Besides, the way you said 'All on my tab'- man, you could sell moonshine at an AA meeting with that voice."

"Ha," You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "Well, thanks."

"Oh. Don't thank me. You're just using what uh, your mama gave you. I actually encourage you totally, to do that more often- "

"No!" You exclaim, sighing in exasperation; But there is still a smile on your face you cant seem to shake. "For not leaving, today. When you walked in. It would've sucked if you had, not that I would've blamed you at all."

"Hey, just call me your knight in shining armour." He doesn't look up from the menu, flicking through it. Then turns to you with one of those beach boy/politician, toothless grins of his. "Besides you were automatically, my favourite person in the apartment. I mean, anyone with... uhhh- different, appendages to what I have, instantly gets a one-way ticket access to my rare bouts of chivalry. Now come over here, pick out what you want off here."

You just gape at him and that comment, making him stifle a laugh and return to the menu himself.

Bass's.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts

--/--

Part 1:

You’re not sure what you’re looking at.

He’s covered head to toe in soot, knocked out cold and hardly moving against the railing of your balcony. There’s an unsettling slump to him, and his costume creases as heaving, rattling breaths leave his lips. There’s blood soaking his clothes, dripping from his nose and onto the concrete. When you call out to him, his eyes flutter briefly beneath his eyelids, but other than that he’s entirely unresponsive.  

You know who he is. Dynamite. Bakugou Katsuki. He’s a burgeoning pro-hero, just hardly starting out, but he’s already climbing the ranks. Anyone with a TV had been watching his highlights for years now.

What you don’t know, is what villian sent him hurtling onto your balcony; or if that villain was still hanging around- either way, you realize you’ve got to get him inside. The mid-winter cold was already biting at your skin, and you figured he couldn’t have been doing much better. 2 AM was certainly not a optimum time for finding yourself unconscious, after all. 

Shivering slightly, you loop your arms under his and begin to tug him inside your apartment. You find very quickly that his dead-weight and ridiculous muscle mass make the job a lot harder than it needs to be. It feels like you’re deadlifting an elephant, and when you finally shut the door behind the both of you, your thighs burn from the effort. 

A part of you wonders if all the exertion was even worth it, but that quickly fades with one look at his costume. You briefly wonder if you’ll get a medal for saving one of Japan’s beloved heroes- after all that heavy lifting, you sort of feel like you deserve it. 

You begin adjusting his limbs, pressing him flat against the floor and tipping his head back. The bleeding in his nose seems to be slowing, but you don’t want to take any chances. You tip his head a little further to the side, hoping it’ll be enough to not let him choke on the blood. The nerves begin to settle in; you’re not sure what to do now. You were hoping he’d wake up on the way in and direct you from there, but hat didn’t happen.

As it looks now, Dynamite wouldn’t be directing a single thing any time soon.

Your fingers itch. The familiar burning begins, and you flex them in your gloves, wondering just how bad of an idea using your quirk would be. 

Bakugou did look pretty hurt, and even without all your years studying medicine, anybody could tell several of his bones were broken. Not just that, but one of his ankles was lolling grotesquely. When you get a closer look, you find tiny bits of bone threatening to burst through the thin skin- his ankle has shattered completely and you’re sure he’s got to be in shock. Pain like that would take just about anyone out. Even a pro-hero.

You sign in frustration, kneeling next to him as you try to make a decision. The itch in your hands is telling you to use your quirk- to help him, but it’s not that easy. Your quirk is all encompassing, and exceedingly powerful, but it doesn’t discriminate. It will try to lessen all of his hurt, physical and mental, and you don’t want to pry into his business. If you try to help him now, you won’t only feel aftershocks of his broken bones, but you’ll get flashes of his memories too. It’s invasive, uncomfortable, and damn near uncontrollable; you really don’t want to have to resort to that. 

Sighing once more, you slide your phone out of your pocket. You’re not really sure who to call, but you figure the Hero Public Safety Commission is a good start. You’ve barely been connected to the main line, before you feel a hand drop heavy onto your thigh.

“Fuckin’- stop. Fuckin’ phone. Stop.” He grunts, half-lucid and slurring. His face screws up in pain as he lifts his arm to bat at your phone. “That’s a- fuckin’ order.”

“It’s alright, I’m calling for help.” You soothe calmly, suddenly glad for all of your emergency aid training. You lean back, phone held out of his reach as the operator tells you to hold. “You’re alright. I’m getting you help. You’ll be okay.” 

“No- fuckin’ stupid! You don’t get it! Stop. Don’t call them.” 

Then he’s surging upwards, and all you can see is his pupils blown wide and his angry expression. His palms are cackling and you’re shrinking away instinctively, but he’s not after you. Bakugou grabs the phone out of your hands, running off of nothing but fumes and adrenaline, and chucks it across the room. Then he grunts in pain, coughing as he flops back, boneless onto the ground. 

“Why- what the hell? Oh my god-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou bites out, his breath rattling in his chest. His voice is weak and raspy, but his eyes are steely and intense. He looks pissed. “Jesus fucking christ. I told you. So shut up, you fuckin’ dolt, it’s your own damn fault.” 

You first instinct is to scream, to yell and screech and berate him for shattering your phone. The rage boils thickly under your skin, only boosted by his irritated sigh, but then you remember your training. People in shock were generally disoriented, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a stretch to assume they could be irrationally angry. 

All it takes is one look at Bakugou’s blown pupils and rising goosebumps, and then you sigh. He’s in shock. You’ll decide to give him a pass. 

“S-stop fuckin’ starin’. What the fuck, are you even-” He slurs suddenly, words hardly forming around teeth suddenly beginning to chatter. “Why the hell is it so cold? Hah?!” 

“Not cold. You’re in shock.” You say calmly, doing your best not to make any sudden movements. “But it’s alright. I’m a nurse. I can help you.”

Your words seem to miss him completely, and he just tracks your movement with wide eyes and quick breaths. His legs are twitching and you watch him try to move his ankle, see the panic rise in his eyes when it’s unresponsive. He tries again, scrambling up on his forearms as his chest heaves. He’s spiraling, quick, and you need to help him calm down. Soon. Or he was going to pass out again. 

With gentle hands, you press against his shoulders until he’s flat against the wood again. Bakugou tries to fight at first, gasping for air, but you’re stronger. He tips his head back to look up at you, near terror clouding his eyes. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. You’re alright. I’m a nurse.” You reassure him once more, before slipping your jacket off your shoulders slowly. “This is just to keep you warm, alright? Just a jacket. I have to try stabilizing your temperature before anything else.” 

“Can’t- I can’t,” His voice is rising, words bitten out and angry as his eyes dart around the room. “Where the fuck did you take me? This isn’t- let me go! I’ll fuckin’ blow you to hell, bitch!” 

Bakugou’s words are scary and harsh, his palms crackling wildly at his sides. He’s very injured, nearly paralyzed by all his broken bones, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping his quirk. You didn’t want to use your own quirk, but at this point it’s seemingly the only option. You need to get him to calm down, to bring him out of his shock before he blows your entire place up.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, allowing your hands to fall on his arm. Normally you’d try to activate your quirk directly on an injury, but as it stood now Bakugou was just one giant broken bone. You could feel him trying to shake you off, so you just hold on tighter as you focus.

You begin to shiver, all your bones vibrating in your skin as you take on his pain. It starts in your toes, an almost inconceivable pain that runs searing trails of lava through your marrow before it settles behind your temples. His physical pain manifests as a room-blurring, white-hot migraine, but his mental pain hits you a million times harder.

You’re seeing flashes behind your eyelids- flashes of yelling and screaming and bright orange-red explosions, every snap-shot moving so fast that it nearly rips the breath from your lungs. You screw your eyes shut, groaning in pain, as your head falls forward. There’s rage boiling your blood, and suddenly it feels like you’re on fire. Like you’ve always been on fire and all you can do is yell and scream and itch at your skin until it peels away. Until the broiling heat is released and your don’t ribs feel like a prison anymore. Until every breath stops feeling like it’s eating away at your throat.

The itch in your fingers starts again, but this time it’s different. It has you balling your hands into fists and shaking as the anger suffocates you. All you can see is red, red, red.

Then it stops. Everything stops and your fists uncurl, and suddenly you’re scared. You’re terrified like you’ve never been before, heart seizing in your chest. It skips a beat. Picks up. Skips a beat, picks up. 

You’ve never felt anything like this before. This isn’t shock, you’ve felt that before, and it isn’t concussion fog either. It’s something dormant, pulsating strong and steady beneath all his current afflictions. The feeling is dark and smothering and intense like nothing you’ve ever known before. He’s miserable. Bakugou is utterly miserable and angry, and you’re sure you weren’t supposed to feel that. 

You tear your hands away from Bakugou, falling backwards onto the floor without grace. Your heart hardly begins to slow, hardly begins to settle, before you hear him groaning next to you. When you look at him, his eyes are more alert and his teeth, thankfully, have stopped chattering. Unfortunately, his pupils are still blown and he looks just as freaked out as before. You’re starting to think that maybe he also has a concussion.

“What the fuck did ya do to me? Hah?” He gasps out. “What kinda fuckin’ quirk-“

“I call it Alleviate.”

“I don’t give a shit what you call it! Felt you in my fuckin’ head! Who the fuck said you could pull that-“

“I’m sorry.” You cringe at his yelling, rubbing at your temples as you sit up. The headache from earlier early fades, but it leaves bone-deep exhaustion behind. “My quirk targets and lessens all pain- physical and mental. I can’t choose which one. I was just trying to help.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ ask for your help!”

“I know. I’m sorry. Again.” You wince, scrunching your eyes shut. You felt woozy and weak, just like you always did after using your quirk. “It’s just- you were in shock. You were gonna blow my whole apartment up. I had to.”

You answer washes over Bakugou like a bucket of cold water. You watch him still where he lies, fingers twitching at his sides. A beat passes and then he’s shifting again, nostrils flaring in annoyance when he can hardly sit up. 

You watch his face contort in pain once more, and suddenly you’re not tired anymore. The feeling reminds you of working at the hospital, and you find the urge to help him much outweighs your own exhaustion. You’d push through it- just like a graveyard shift at work. 

“Now, I’m going to need you to take a deep breath for me, and try your best to relax.” You say in an even tone, holding steady eye contact. “You’ve got a lot of injuries, and you need to lay back down. You’ll just exacerbate them if you keep moving.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do- I’m fine! I’ll be good, jus’ need a few fuckin’ minutes,” He huffs, but then he falls back again once more. You guide him with you hands gently, intent on making the impact as painless as possible. “Now get out of my fuckin’ face.” 

“If I thought you would be fine by yourself, I would.” You snort, leaving his side to gather your phone and some pillows from your couch. You slide one pillow under his head and the other under his ankle gently, doing your best to be delicate. “But you aren’t, and you need help. I know what I’m doing. I’m a nurse, and I’ve done this many times, so trust me and try to relax, alright?” 

“Relax? I can’t fuckin’ move!”

“I know. All I can do is help with the pain, I can’t heal you, but-”

“That’s a shitty fuckin’ quirk.”

“It actually isn’t; not in my line of work, at least.” You say indulgently, before pressing two fingers under his jaw. His heart is still beating wildly, way too quickly. “Now, did you crash land with a phone on you? Any identification?” 

“You don’t know who I am? How stupid are you?”

“Not stupid. I know who you are- but all those things are important for when an ambulance gets here. You have way too many broken bones to walk it off, so I’m gonna call you an ambulance, alright?” 

“You’re not calling shit!” 

“I have to call somebody for you. I’ve done all I can.” You push on calmly, schooling your features even as exhaustion ebbs at your mind. “Now, if not the hero commission, who do you want me to call for you?” 

He seems to resist for a moment, but then his eyebrows settle. He clenches a fist at his side, sighs, and begins to rattle off a number.

“Put it on fuckin’ speaker.” Bakugou demands, scrunching his face up as you type in the number.

You roll your eyes at his tone, but comply anyway. The phone rings four times before somebody picks up.

“Uh, hello?” The voice asks groggily, thick sleep clouding his voice. “Who’s, uh, who’s this?”

“Oi- Shitty Hair. Clear your fuckin’ throat. Sound disgusting as shit.” Bakugou grits out. “And wake the hell up, I need you to do something.”

“Are you asking me for help?”

“Yeah. Whatever. Shut up about it.”

“I didn’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou barks. Then he blinks, pauses a second before adding an afterthought. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

On the other side of the phone, the man sighs something existentially exhausted and put-upon. You think that’s probably an accurate description of what associating with Bakugou is like. At least, that’s what you’ve gathered from this first impression.

“Just- you’re gonna get an address texted to you. Go to it.” Bakugou orders, turning his head to look at you. He squints his eyes, daring you to put up a fuss about his plans. “And bring your fuckin’ car. Do not take the subway.”

“My car? Dude, you hurt or something?”

“Yeah. He is.” You say, holding a finger out to Bakugou so he doesn’t say otherwise. “Pretty badly, too. He doesn’t want me to call an ambulance, but he definitely won’t be able to walk out of here.”

“What? Oh my god. Is he-“

“He’s alright. Don’t worry.” You assure. “I’ve stabilized him, for now, but he definitely needs more help than I can give hi-“

“Yeah! Fuckin’ nurse, my ass, she didn’t do shit for me!” Bakugou interrupts, lips pulled back into a snarl. “Useless quirk bitch!”

You roll your eyes again. If he wasn’t in so much pain, and you hadn’t been used to hearing so much worse at the hospital, you’d kick his ass.

“Sorry. About him.” The man on the phone apologizes, as he sucks in a breath. “Send me the address, and I’ll get there as soon as possible. Alright?”

“Yep. You got it.”

The call cuts, and you send your location to him over text. When you look down at Bakugou, his face is screwed up once more, and he’s heaving shallow breaths all over again. Your quirk must be wearing off.

“Scale 1-10, how much pain are you in?” You ask him.

“Stupid- stupid fuckin’ question.” He seethes through teeth clenched shut. “Not funny. Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. It’s a question to gauge whether or not I should use my quirk on you. It won’t be good for either of us if you pass out from the pain again.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay. If you say so.” You say, leaning back on your hands. The exhaustion seeps in again, but you blink away the fog. “But seriously, if it gets unbearable, I need you to tell me.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“Maybe not, but this is pretty much my job, alright? I’m gonna try and make this as painless for you as I can.” You try to soothe, voice light and unassuming. “But, I will need you to keep talking, alright? You have to try and stay lucid.” 

Bakugou glares at you, presses his mouth into a thin line. His defiance is written clear across his face, and you’re sure he’d be crossing his arms across his chest if he could. Maybe even stomping his foot if he could stand. All in all, he reminds you of the pouting children you so often give flu-shots to. The thought makes you smile a bit.

“Fuck you smiling about?” He grumbles suddenly, but his voice is off. When you look down at him, he’s clenching his teeth as his eyes flutter closed.

“No. Stop. You need to keep them open.” You wave a hand in front of his face. “I’m not sure, but you might have a concussion so I need you to stay awake just in case.”

He just wrenches his eyes shut again, before blinking them wide open. When he looks up at you, his eyes are mostly pupil and there’s something stuttered about the way he tracks your movements. You’re suddenly glad all the lights in your apartment are off, you’re almost entirely sure he has a concussion. And not just a mild one, either. 

“Can you remember what happened? Before you were thrown onto my balcony?” You ask, trying your best to keep your voice quiet. 

“Yes. Fuckin’ obviously. I-” His eyebrows lift, and his eyes flicker around the room. There’s a frustrated sigh from Bakugou, and then he just sinks his head further into the pillow. “No.”

“Okay. That’s okay. That’s just the concussion symptoms, no need to panic. Are you feeling okay, right now? Any nausea? Dizziness?” 

“What the fuck are ya? Fuckin’ doctor or somethin’?”

You’re sure now. He’s concussed. Pretty badly too, considering he doesn’t remember the multiples times you’d already told him you were a nurse. You’re briefly impressed that he even managed to remember his friend’s number, but then again you reason, that could’ve been just an unexpected benefit from using your quirk. 

“Nurse. I’m a nurse.” You repeat, before re-adjusting the jacket you had previously spread over him. You pull it up to his shoulders. “Now, I’m sure your friend’ll get here soon, so I need you to just sit tight, alright?”

“Not a fuckin’ kid. Don’t need to be babied.” He slurs, eyes once again shuttering. “Knock it- knock it off.”

You just ignore his comment, focusing instead on trying to keep his eyes open. There’s not much you could do without disturbing his injuries, so you take to patting his cheeks gently. Anything to keep him from falling asleep- you don’t have the equipment necessary to evaluate his brain injury, and you don’t want to be blindsided by a potential seizure. 

“Don’t fall asleep. C’mon Bakugou, open your eyes. I know it hurts, and you’re probably really drowsy, but this is important.” You say again, a little louder this time. “I need you to stay awake.”

When he blinks his eyes open again, he’s hardly there. The effects of your quirk have seemingly completely worn off, and Bakugou’s feeling the full effects of his head injury. He looks confused and disoriented, and when he tries to lift a barely-sizzling palm towards you, his face seizes up in pain all over again.

“It’s okay. You’re good. No need to blow me up.” You smile gently, pressing his hand flat against the ground. Bakugou resists for a moment, before his arm goes slack. “All you need to do is keep your eyes open.”

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door, and you turn away from Bakugou. You watch him wince at the loud sound as you open the door. 

The first thing you notice about Bakugou’s friend is his bright red hair, and his shark teeth. He’s Red Riot, Kirishima Eijiro, and you know exactly who he is too. You breathe a relieved sigh, thankful that you could hand him off to someone you knew was capable. 

“Holy shit.” The man at the door says, suddenly gasping. “Bakugou!”

Scratch that. Kirishima just screamed bloody murder at a concussed person. Maybe not so capable.

“Be quiet!” You shush, ushering Kirishima in as you shut the door gently behind him. “I’m pretty sure he’s got a concussion, so I need you to be quiet. Too much noise is just gonna cause him more pain.” 

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay, got it. I understand.”

“Thanks.” You whisper. 

You lead him over to the sliding balcony door, and Bakugou is right where you left him. He’s almost completely still, looking up at the both of you through lidded eyes. 

“Okay. So, I’m not sure where to send him, but he needs to go to a hospital. He’s got a shattered ankle, a severe concussion, probably a broken nose, and several broken bones, at least. Probably a few cracked ribs too.” You report tactfully. “The good news is, I haven’t seen any symptoms of internal bleeding. That’s great so far, but I can’t be entirely rule it out, so we need to get him to someone who can.”

Kirishima doesn’t say anything, just gulps nervously back at you. 

“It’s alright.” You soothe. “He’ll be just fine, as long as we get him help soon. Now, I’m not sure where heroes go for treatment, and Bakugou isn’t in any position to tell me, so I need you to tell me. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. It’s- we’ve got a med-wing back at the hero complex.”

“Okay. Good. Do they have ambulances that can get here? We really shouldn’t be moving him without a stretcher to stabilize him, and I don’t have one.” 

“Yeah. They do. I’ll give them a call.” 

“Good.” 

Kirishima takes his phone out, as you settle back on the floor next to Bakugou. Bakugou’s barely lucid, but he’s sniffing and then you realize his nose is bleeding again. Upon closer inspection, his nose is definitely broken. There’s nothing you could do about that for the time being, but the blood seeping onto your floors was fixable. 

“Hey, can you make sure he keeps his eyes open for just a minute or so?” You ask Kirishima, nodding towards Bakugou. “I think he’ll probably be fine, but I need to be sure. I’m just gonna step away and get a wet rag. Try to clean up some of the blood as best as I can.” 

Kirishima just nods, taking your spot and dialing a number on his phone. You can hear his voice as you move into your kitchen. 

You fingers itch again. It’s irritating because you’re just tired, not spent, and you could be helping Bakugou a lot more if he’d let you. If he just let you, then you could alleviate his pain and his concussion symptoms all in one go, and waiting for the ambulance would be child’s play. 

But you can’t. Your quirk was invasive enough as a surprise- you wouldn’t purposefully dig into someone’s mind against their wishes.

It felt a little useless to only be wiping away blood when you could be doing so much more, but you ignore the feeling. It takes only a minute or so before you’re walking back to your living room, a few damp dish towels in hand.

“Is he still okay?” Kirishima asks, and you can see the panic in his eyes.

 You quickly come to the conclusion that Bakugou must not be someone who let’s himself get gravely injured a lot. Kirishima doesn’t seem to be used to seeing his friend hurt at all. 

“Yeah. Well, just as okay as he was before I left.” You reassure, settling on your knees at Bakugou’s side. Red eyes lazily slide over to you, and you try to smile something reassuring at him. “Bakugou’ll be just fine. How long until an ambulance gets here?”

“Soon. Should be soon.”

“Okay.” 

Quiet settles over the three of you, as you wad up a dish towel. You dab it over Bakugou’s face, rubbing away the dried blood that dripped down his mouth and neck. You hope it’ll make him a little more comfortable. As much of an asshole as he’d proven himself to be so far, you still wanted to help him. You’re sure he couldn’t be feeling anything other than absolutely miserable as he was. 

“Stop.” Bakugou slurs with barely any heat, scrunching his eyes as you work at the blood that somehow dripped around his ear. “Don’t fuckin’ need it.” 

“Shh. It’s okay. Just cleaning up some of the blood.” You say indulgently, smothering a crackling palm with another damp dish towel. “Just breathe, alright? Help’s almost here. You’re gonna be just fine.” 

“Fuckin’ course I am. Bitch.” 

You snort, dabbing at the bits of dried blood in his hair. Bakugou just blinks at you, confused and disoriented, but still blessedly awake. You press his hair back to get at the skin of his forehead, and you might be imagining it, but you think Bakugou leans into the light touch. 

“He always like this?” You ask Kirishima, laughing slightly in pure disbelief. “He always so angry and prickly?”

“Only on his best days.” 

“It’s- that was funny. Good one.” 

Kirishima’s phone lights up suddenly, and then he’s walking to the other side of the room, taking the call quietly. He faces you with a wobbly smile when he turns back.

“They’ll be here in a minute or so. I told them to just walk up- shit, I probably should’ve asked, right?” He relays nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “Is that okay? I gave them your apartment number.” 

“Just fine. I don’t feel comfortable moving him, so I’m perfectly okay leaving it up to them. Thanks for your help.” 

“No, thank you. I- well, I’m sure he wasn’t exactly cooperative for you.” 

“He wasn’t.” You huff a sardonic laugh. “That’s alright though, he’s still far from the rudest patient I’ve ever had. Surprisingly.”

Kirishima just smiles at that, and then perks up at the sound of footsteps outside the door. He lets the paramedics in, and they’re crowding Bakugou as you step away.

 It’s quick work, and Bakugou is stabilized on a stretcher in just a few minutes. A part of you wants to help, even more so when you see the blonde mumbling in pain, but you stay back.

Just as everyone is filing out the door, you suddenly find yourself grabbing a hold of Kirishima’s arm.

“If it’s not too much to ask, do you think you could give me an update on him? When he wakes up and is lucid, I mean.” You ask unsurely. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine, but the affirmation would be nice, you know?”

You’re not sure what compels you to ask, especially not when Bakugou had been so prickly to you earlier, but you ask anyway. You tell yourself that it’s just residual nurturing urges from caring for him, but even you’re not sure that feels right. 

A part of you knows it’s because of what you felt in his head. How miserable he was and all the pain festering there- but an even larger part of you won’t admit it.

“Yeah. For sure. I’ve got your number.” Kirishima says, a small smile edging at his lips. “I’ll let you know in the morning. And thanks. Again.” 

“Of course. Tell him I hope he feels better.” 

Kirishima nods, and then leaves, closing the door behind him. Suddenly you’re alone in your apartment, and the silence is near deafening. You hadn’t realized just how loud a presence Bakugou was until he was gone. 

Sighing, you finally let the tiredness seep into your bones. You feel it there, thick and suffocating, dragging your feet as you collapse on your couch. There’s still bloody rags sitting on the floor, and you’re sure you’ve got some on your clothes, but you can’t be bothered to get up. 

You’re out before you know it, the memory of red eyes and white-hot anger playing behind your eyelids.

--/--

hope u enjoyed!!! yay!!  new series!! 

also, a few people have asked me to put a taglist together for my writing, and i’m planning on doing that. feel free to leave a comment if u’d like to be added to the list as well!! 

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Duck, Duck, Grief

The newly reopened wound on Aubrey’s thigh throbs dully as she limps away from the base of the ruined Mt. Kepler and back towards the gate.  She hears a voice in the back of her mind, the sensible one that sounds a lot like Duck, telling her that walking on an injured leg is a bad idea and that she’s only gonna make it worse.  A louder, more vicious voice tells her she deserves it.  This one doesn’t sound like Duck.  She ignores them both and keeps walking.  The night air is cold, numbing her exposed arms and face.  Aubrey is grateful for it.  Having a body feels like an impossible task right now.  Thinking is out of the question, because thinking means acknowledging everything that just happened- 

(gone all gone all gone he’s gone he’s gone it’s all your fault why couldn’t you heal him useless you didn’t even try you told him to leave he was supposed to leave now he’s gone it’s your fault)

-and she wasn’t ready.  Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her ears were buzzing and it was too cold and she couldn’t breathe-

(he’s on the ground his eyes are open he doesn’t see you he isn’t breathing why isn’t he breathing his hands are cold he is never cold he is always warm warm warm warm smile warm laugh cold)

“Miss, are you okay?  Can you hear me?”

There is a voice above her-

(it is not his voice you will never hear his voice again your fault all your fault dead dead dead)

-the voice continues, but it is not talking to her anymore.

“I think she’s in shock-- Oh god, she’s bleeding, oh that’s real bad, aw jeez,” warm hands grip her arms and lift her to her feet.  She doesn’t remember falling to her knees.  That explains why her leg feels like it’s on fire-

(burning burning the house is on fire there is a man in a mask her dad is on the ground burning)

  She is vaguely aware of being half-carried over to an ambulance.  They sit her down, telling her to put pressure on the wound, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.  She does this without comment, cannot open her mouth for fear that the words will come tumbling out and never ever stop.  She does not move.

…

Duck and Minerva had just finished taking down the abomination and were making their way over to Leo Tarkesian and Dr. Sarah Drake when they saw the top of Mt. Kepler lift into the air, then came crashing back down, shaking the earth and causing the telescope to creak and sway a little, which in all honesty was really terrifying.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Duck yelped as the ground shook with the aftershocks of the mountain’s collapse.  He lost his balance but Minerva grabbed his arm to steady him before he could fall over. 

“Duck Newton You Should Be Careful!  Core Strength Is An Integral Part Of Any Hero’s Skill Set!” She exclaimed cheerfully, clapping a hand onto his shoulder with almost as much force as the mountain’s collapse.

“Thanks Minnie,” he wheezed, rubbing his sore shoulder.  Sarah ran up to them, her eyes wide with shock.

“What the hell just happened to the mountain?” she asked, her face pale with fear.

Duck scratched his head.  “Honestly, Sarah?  I got no earthly idea, but we should probably go find out,” he sighed.  “C’mon, we got a ways to go.”

The group of four made their way across the field towards the parking lot, Minerva still giving Leo a piggyback ride on account of his injuries.  When they reached the front gate, Sarah paused and turned to Duck.  She looked as exhausted as he felt.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, “As fun as this has been, I think I’ve just about maxed out my daily limit for weird.  If it’s all the same to y’all, I think I’m gonna head on home.”  She points to him, “Don’t think this means I’m gonna let you off the hook about this, mister.  I expect an explanation.”

He salutes her playfully, “Yes, Ma’am.  I’ll have that report on your desk by Monday.”

She smiles and says, “See ya around, Newton,” before turning and walking into the night.

Duck, Minerva, and Leo do the same, making their way to Duck’s government-issued truck.  He chucks the extra broadsword into the truck bed, slings Beacon back around his waist, and slides behind the wheel exhaustedly.  A part of him waits for Aubrey to call shotgun before remembering with a start that she isn’t with them.  He’s so used to having her and Ned as back up in life threatening situations that their absence right now is disconcerting.  He’s more than a little anxious to see them again; they’d all been so busy with their own situations the past few days that they hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out.

“What A Fine Chariot This Is, Duck Newton,” Minerva booms jovially, slapping the roof of his truck.  There is the distinct sound of crumpling metal.

Duck squints blearily at her as she squeezes into the passenger seat, mentally cycling through the five stages of grief as Minerva buckles her seatbelt.  He turns the key in the ignition and drives out of the parking lot.

… 

The closer they get to Amnesty Lodge, the more nervous Duck gets.  Not for the first time since the whole Sylvain mess started, he resents Kepler’s location in the Radio Quiet Zone.  Usually he didn’t mind not having a cellphone, but right now he would give just about anything to call Aubrey and Ned and make sure they’re okay.  The herd of ambulances and police cars heading towards the Lodge do nothing to quell Duck’s mounting anxiety levels.

His anxiety turns to dread as he turns onto the dirt road leading to the lodge and sees the crowd of townsfolk gathered in front of the gate, an ambulance parked off to the side.  He jerks the truck to a stop and jumps out, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition as he scans wildly for his friends.  Minerva moves to follow him, but he stops her, telling her to watch out for Leo.  Things are complicated enough without throwing an honest-to-fucking-god alien warrior into the mix.

When he finally does see Aubrey’s colorful shock of dyed hair, it is both a relief and an extra source of stress.  A relief because she’s alive, and a source of stress because she’s sitting in the ambulance.

Duck rushes over to her, his heart dropping into his stomach as a list of every worst case scenario runs through his head.  Someone found out about the lodge, someone went through the gate who wasn’t supposed to and went on a rampage, Agent Stern arrested someone, someone got hurt, someone got killed.  At least Aubrey is okay.  And while he doesn’t see Ned anywhere, Duck isn’t too worried about the old guy.  He’d survived ramming into a Pizza Hut sign with a jetpack, as well as the explosion of said jetpack immediately afterwards.  The man was damn near unkillable.  He skids to a stop in front of Aubrey, his momentum almost causing him to crash into the side of the ambulance.  He takes her in, noting the bandage on her leg and the shock blanket around her shoulders.

“Y’okay, kid?”  He asks, “Aubrey?”  She doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him or even seem to register his presence.  

That’s his first clue that something’s wrong, because he’s seen her like this before, after the whole ordeal with the Pizza Hut sign.  The hollow, haunted expression on her face is nearly identical to the one she’d worn that day.  It scared him then and it scares him now.

“Aubrey,” he repeats her name.  “C’mon kid, ya gotta talk to me.  I just got here, I’m way outta the loop.”  Nothing.  She just keeps staring blankly ahead.  He crouches down in front of her, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention.  Again, nothing.  Shit.

He stands back up and starts pacing, raking his hands through his hair, “Aubrey!”  He snaps.  The longer she stays unresponsive, the more nervous he gets, “I need you to say something, kid, you’re fuckin’ scaring me!”  Try as he might, he can’t quite keep the panic from bleeding into his voice.

Finally, finally, she looks up at him, and his heart breaks.

Aubrey looks absolutely wrecked.  Her eyes are bloodshot and ringed black with smeared mascara and eyeliner, her face blotchy and tearstained.  Disconcertingly, both her irises are a bright, piercing orange.  Duck figures this is something important, something he should ask her about right away.  He doesn’t, though, because he couldn’t care less about whatever earth-shattering event made Aubrey’s eyes change color.  He doesn’t care about all that world-saving, chosen one stuff, and he never has.  He cares about people, his people, and right now that’s Aubrey and Ned.  They’re the Pineguard, his family, and he would rather die than see them hurt.

“D-Duck,” Aubrey whimpers, her voice fragile like his ma’s best china.  “Duck, I couldn’t…h-he…”  She shatters, then, curling in on herself as she sobs.

“Hey now, uh,” Duck has never been good at comforting people, especially when they’re crying.  But this is Aubrey and she needs him, social anxiety be damned.

He sits down next to her on the tailgate of the ambulance, shifting so that he’s almost facing her, and puts his arms out, “Do you-- Ooph!”  Before he can finish his question, Aubrey collapses against him, sobbing into his shoulder.  Duck freezes for a moment, unsure, before wrapping his arms around her.

“I-It’s all,” she hiccups, “it’s all m-my fault, Duck, I-I couldn’t…”  She dissolves into sobs again, too distressed to continue.  Her shoulders shake with the force of it.

Duck pats her back awkwardly.  “Aw, Aubrey, I don’t know ‘bout that,” he says, “I don’t think-- don’t blame yourself, kid.  I’m sure you did everything you could.”  Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying even harder.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just hugs her tighter instead.  He hates himself a little for that, wishes to god that the words didn't stick in the back of his throat like old gum on the underside of a picnic bench.  Aubrey hiccups, and Duck rubs her shoulders soothingly.  He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her this broken.  Sure he’s seen her cry, seen her upset, but never like this.  Something is very, very wrong, and Aubrey’s clearly in no shape to tell him what, so he scans the crowd for someone who can.

Finally, he makes eye contact with Jake Coolice.  Which, okay, not exactly ideal, except for the fact that he’s standing next to Mama, who’s engaged in conversation with Detective Maygen.  Duck jerks his head towards the matriarch of Amnesty Lodge, hoping Jake picks up what he’s putting down.  The neon-cloaked Sylph looks confused, and he points at Mama and mouths her name in a silent question.  Duck nods emphatically.  Jake smiles and gives him two thumbs up before tugging on the sleeve of Mama’s duster to get her attention.  The older woman turns to Jake, who points in Duck’s direction.  She squares her shoulders, like she’s preparing for battle, and makes her over to the ambulance.  

The first thing Duck notices is how tired she looks.  The second is the blood on her shirt and hands.  

His blood turns to ice in his veins, “What the fuck happened?” he demands, “Are y’okay?”

Mama sighs, her whole body moving with it, “It’s not mine,” is all she says, and her shoulders slump in something a bit too much like defeat for Duck’s taste.

“Whaddya mean, whose is it then?” he asks, panic setting in.

She exhales softly through her nose.  “Duck, honey, I’m real sorry,” she begins, “now I don’t want you blaming yourself for this, ‘cause it ain’t no one’s fault.”  Mama pauses, looking up at the night sky before running a hand down her face.  There is dried blood under her fingernails.

“Whaddya mean, Mama, what happened?  What don’t ya want me blaming myself for?”

She looks pained, “Duck, sweetheart--.”

“No!  Don’t baby me, I aint a fuckin’ kid,” he snaps.  “What. The. Hell. Happened.”

“I-it was Ned.”  The response comes not from Mama, but Aubrey.  She pulls aways from Duck, exhaling shakily and wiping her eyes.

Duck stares at her.  “Whaddya mean, did he get hurt or somethin’?” he asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer to that question and hoping to god that he’s wrong, “Aubrey?”

She shakes her head.  “No, uh,” she takes a shaky breath, “Shit, I can’t do this.  Mama, uh, can you explain, please?”  Her voice trembles as she gives the older woman a pleading look.

Mama gives her a sad smile, “Sure, baby.”

“Thanks,” Aubrey sniffles.  Duck puts an arm around her and she buries her face in his shoulder.

Mama takes a deep breath, “Duck, ya said ya didn’t wanna be babied, so I guess I better just say it outright.  Ned ain't hurt, honey.  I’m so, so sorry, Duck, but he’s dead.  Ned’s dead.”

The words hit him like a punch in the gut, leaving him breathless and gasping.  

That can’t be right, Ned can’t be dead.  Ned ‘Cowardly’ Chicane, the only one of them with any sort of self-preservation instinct, the guy who just the other day had assured Duck that he didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt because he quote-unquote, “knew when to get the hell outta Dodge” was dead?  No way.  This had to be to work of the shapeshifter, or some sick practical joke.  It couldn’t be true, because if it was, it would mean Duck had failed.  It would mean that something happened and he hadn’t been there to take the big hit.  It would mean that Ned had taken the hit instead.  And he can’t handle that.  What’s the point of being the “Chosen One”, the so-called savior of the planet if he can’t keep the people he cares about safe?  

“Duck?”  Mama’s voice cuts through the haze of grief and shock clouding his brain.  He doesn’t respond, “You with us?”

He wants to argue, wants to break down and scream at the injustice of it all.  But he doesn’t, because he’s not the only one grieving Ned’s-- he’s not the only one affected.  Aubrey’s here too, huddled against his side like a barnacle on the hull of a ship.  God, she’s so young, still just a kid, really.  She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.  She shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, truth be told, but that’s not in the cards.  The least Duck can do is be strong for her.  He’s good at being strong.  So he pushes aside all his grief and anger and self-recrimination, packing them away in a cardboard box in some dusty corner of his mind to deal with later.  Aubrey comes first.

He takes a deep breath, “Yeah, Mama, I’m with ya.”  He runs a tired hand down his face, “What, uh, what happened?”  His voice trembles right at the end.  He clenches his jaw.  

Mama glances ever so slightly at Aubrey.  “I’m fine,” is all the young woman says.  Mama looks to the night sky, as if hoping the stars can tell her how to make this easier.  Whatever she was looking for, it isn’t there and she faces Duck once more.

She does that thing again, squaring her shoulders like she’s getting ready for a fight, “The Abomination, it took Ned’s shape an’ then spilled the beans about everything on television.  The lodge, the gate, Sylvain, all of it.  That’s why all these folks are here,” she gestures to the crowd of townspeople.  

“Ned, he killed it and came down here to try and divert ‘em, send ‘em on a wild goose chase.  It sorta worked, actually, he got rid of about half of ‘em.  He starts talkin’ folks down, tryin’ to get the rest of them to see sense,” she laughs bitterly, “And it mighta even worked, too, ‘cept then the glowing coffin shows up and out pops Dani.  And she’s all feral, completely outta her mind after being separated from the hot springs for so long.”  

Her mouth presses into a thin line.  “And then she, well… She charged these here folks, and Ned, he tackles her.  Thing is, you get a buncha scared folks with guns in one place, well, someone’s bound to get hurt.  And tonight, that was Ned.  He got shot, and by the time the ambulance got here it was too late.  There wasn’t nothing any of us could do,” she looks over at Aubrey when she says that.  “And that’s… that’s the whole story.  I’m sorry,” she gives him a sympathetic look, “Y’alright, Duck?”

Duck says nothing, just nods sharply.  Because how do you respond to something like that?  What do you say when someone’s been ripped from your life and you can’t remember the last thing you said to them?  What do you say?  What can you say that would be enough to encompass the raw, gaping wound that takes the place of your heart, the way your stomach drops, when you think of all the things left unsaid?  What do you say?

As it turns out, “Let’s go home,” is a pretty good start.

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (10)

I posted a different part 10 a few days ago and hated it so I got rid of it and started over. This feels better, minimal editing though because I suck but you knew that, Enjoy!

all parts in the master list

--

The surge of confidence that had you messaging Brady Tkachuk on Instagram failed to remember what the bio section of your instagram read.

Your name.

Flames over everything,

Calgary or bust.

Of course he didn’t respond to your message, of course he told Matthew about it and, of course you had to deal with the wrath of the oldest Tkachuk.

You allowed yourself to sleep in late on the first day off you’d had in a while. Fully waking up at close to noon felt great, until you unlocked your phone.

You hit up my little brother? My brother? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me

Wake up and take responsibility asshole

You’re a fucking piece of shit

It probably pretty stupid of you to message Brady, knowing that Matthew would eventually find out at some point but this was just a little bit too aggressive for doing something as innocent as sliding into a stranger’s dms.

Having dealt with Matthew’s bullshit for far too many days in a row, you decided to ignore his messages. You searched for Brady’s name and sent another message, purely to fuck with Matthew.

Big brother is mad, gonna have to start DMing you even harder now!

That message got a response only a few minutes later, he really dislikes you that much, huh? Whatever you’re doing, keep that shit up.

You chuckled at his response before dropping your phone on the bedside table and heading for the shower to get your day started. 

++

Grocery shopping was the absolute bane of your existence. Children running wild, people standing in the middle of the aisle as they debated their choice of cereal entirely too long and people not knowing how to use the self checkout were only a few of the reasons why you started getting your groceries delivered years ago but it wasn’t an option today. 

Today you were going to have to venture into one of your versions of hell because there was no immediate availability for delivery you and needed to replenish your refrigerator. It was still pretty early and the parking lot was looking sparse so you felt slightly confident that the trip wouldn’t be too bad as you made your way inside with your list and grabbed a basket. 

It was going to be a quick trip, you were only there to get the essentials that would you get you through the day and you would place your bigger order for delivery for tomorrow. 

As you made your way toward the fruit and vegetable outer aisle, you caught sight of red curls and when you confirmed your suspicion, your stomach jumped into your throat.

He was the last person you wanted to see on your day off, but here he was, fucking Matthew Tkachuk was at the same grocery store at the same damn time you were and clearly he was also there to get the same fucking fruit—strawberries—you wanted too. 

You watched him as his eyes surveyed the plastic cartons, occasionally he’d pick one up and examine it before putting it back with the rest, and fuck, he was taking forever. 

“Jesus Christ, they’re all basically the fucking same, just grab a box and go.” 

Surprise lit up his features until he looked in your direction and realized who was talking to him and that surprised look grew into annoyance. 

“Shut up.”

“Fine, I’m not in the mood to deal with you anyway.”

You hurried over and stood right beside him, making sure to elbow him in the arm as you grabbed a carton of strawberries and threw it in your basket.

“There’s a bunch of mold on those but enjoy that I guess.” 

He didn’t look at you, continuing his seemingly endless quest to find the perfect bunch of berries. 

Thoroughly annoyed, you checked the box yourself and realized that he was right, there was a decent amount of mold on the fruit in the bottom left corner of the box. 

You had no idea what came over you or why you did what you did.

But you did it.

“Whatever, I don’t need them anyway,” you spat as you chucked the carton at Matthew as hard as you could. 

He wasn’t facing you and it hit him in the shoulder and neck area but the flimsy plastic broke and the box opened, sending strawberries flying everywhere. Some hit the side of his face, but most of them landed on the floor and also broke open, making quite a mess. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered in shock at your own actions, “holy shit.” 

“What the fuck?! Where the fuck are you going?!” 

You dropped your basket on the ground and speed walked away from him, toward the exit, as quickly as you could. It felt like you didn’t take a breath until you were out of the grocery store and in your car, slowly turning on the ignition and backing out of your parking spot with nothing in hand. 

*

He looked fucking ridiculous and he knew it. 

She had fucking bolted after pelting a carton of strawberries at his face and now he was alone with a mess. People were avoiding eye contact and he was standing there like a stupid fucking idiot with strawberry juice dripping down his cheek. 

“Sir,” an employee approached him, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just,” he wiped his cheek, “i’m fine.”

“Some other customers reported it, and she was gone by the time we realized what happened. Your groceries are on us today, for the inconvenience.”

“Not your fault or your problem, I’m happy to pay for my stuff. I just kind of want to walk away from this,” he motioned to the mess around him.

“Of course, finish your shopping trip, we’ll clean this up.” 

“Thank you.” 

What the fuck just happened? It was supposed to be an easy day off. All he needed was a single carton of fucking strawberries.

*

Not cool, hated one. Wish I would’ve seen it, it was probably funny as hell

The text was from a number you didn’t realize but you had a feeling who the sender might be. 

It was, you responded, you probably shouldn’t be fraternizing with the enemy though, he’d hate that.

Who cares? This is highly entertaining and I’m not even there

I really just tried to enjoy my day off and there he fucking was. 

He’s good at popping up when no one wants it, it’s kind of his thing

You were settled into your couch, casually texting Brady, when someone began pounding at your door and, once again, you had a feeling who the sender—knocker in this case—might be. 

Looking through the peephole, you noticed that Matthew’s hair appeared to be wet, probably because you exploded a carton of strawberries on him but whatever, you hesitantly cracked the door. 

“It’s bullshit that Brady is finding my misery with your annoying ass so amusing,” he didn’t bother looking at you through the small crack, “he’s really fucking loving this.”

“I wasn’t really intending for him to get humor out of our messages,” you opened the door all the way, “but it still works I guess.”

“The strawberry thing was not cool,” he turned his irritatingly lovely blue eyes on yours, “at all.”

“I know.” 

“Messaging my brother on Instagram with shitty intentions wasn’t cool either.”

“I know,” you repeated and he rolled his eyes as he pushed off the wall next to your door and headed toward the elevator. 

“You’re so fucking hot and cold with me, I don’t know how to deal with it,” you shouted at his back. 

“Yeah,” he turned his head slightly and ran a hand through his curls, “I don’t know how to deal with it either.” 

Matthew didn’t look back at you as the elevator doors closed and took him back up to his apartment while you stood outside your front door feeling irritated and, once again, completely fucking confused by Matthew fucking Tkachuk and his fence sitting behavior.

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid (Part 2)

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

Notes: Violence, blood, gore, sexual inneundos

I didn't make a taglist for this story but I know @teamplutoforlife wanted to be tagged <3 And thank you @cheshirevalentine for editing

Part 1

Remus was falling, twisting onto his back as he plummeted towards the ground, the buildings around him nothing but a blur as he flew past. He could faintly hear the construction on the ground over the pounding of his own heart and the howling of the wind rushing past him, barely hearing the alarmed shouts of the workers watching him fall.

Virgil was nothing but a speck in the distance now, perched on the edge of the roof. Lifeless white eyes watched him fall, unfeeling and still.

Pain exploded in Remus’s back as he slammed into something sharp, legs hitting the ground when he finally stopped falling. He could just barely make out the rusty, blood stained spike in front of him, poking through his chest from his back where he'd fallen, blood pooling around the wound and into his suit.

-

“Hey.”

Remus jumped so hard he nearly fell off the roof, scrambling to his feet and reaching for his gun as he whirled around to face whoever the fuck was stupid enough to sneak up on him.

Spiderman was perched beside him, apparently fine after his near death experience last night, and holding… a pizza box?

“Hey,” Remus said carefully. “What the fuck?”

Spiderman shrugged and held out the box in his hand. “I have pizza. You asked for pizza.”

Remus stared for a moment, frozen where he stood with his hand hovering over his gun, trying to figure out if this was a joke. “You… actually brought it?”

“Yeah?” Spiderman said, like he didn’t understand how this was in any way strange. “Oh did you… were you joking? Did you not actually want it, or—”

“No, I did.” Remus stayed right where he was. What the hell was this? Was this a prank? Was he being pranked?

“Then… here,” Spiderman said. He held out the pizza box, close enough for Remus to cautiously take. “I didn’t know what you liked so I just got cheese. But cheese is good. Everyone likes cheese.”

Holy shit. Spiderman was a dweeb.

Remus carefully opened the pizza box, and when there wasn’t a bomb or some kind of spider-themed booby trap inside, just a freshly baked cheese pizza from some local place he’d vaguely heard of, Remus let his shoulders relax and barked out a laugh.

“Well shit,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, Webs.”

Spidey was shuffling a bit, looking ridiculously awkward, and Remus was suddenly reminded that they were both just… people under their masks. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

Remus hesitated, because he hadn’t been kidding about Spiderman owing him a pizza he just… hadn’t actually expected him to follow through. There was no way Remus was eating all of it on his own, he barely ate much as it was.

“Do you, like…” he paused, wondering if this was going to get him punched or laughed at. “Do you want a slice?”

Spiderman actually startled, like him being asked to lunch was just as rare as Remus asking someone to lunch. Jeez, he’d have figured people begged Spiderman to eat with them all the time.

“I, uh… I bought it for you, so—”

“Yeah, and I’m offering. Christ, do you want some pizza or not?”

Spidey still hesitated, and while it was annoying as hell Remus supposed he’d be a hypocrite to judge when he’d been half convinced there was a bomb in the pizza box two minutes ago.

Well, it wasn’t like it would have been the first time.

“Uh, sure,” Spiderman said, still visibly wary. “Thank you.”

Remus ignored him in favor of opening the pizza box and setting it down, motioning for the vigilante to take as much as he wanted.

It wasn’t until Spidey turned away slightly to hook his fingers under the bottom of his mask that Remus remembered- duh- they both had to pull up their masks to eat.

It wasn’t a problem, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to risk exposing their faces to each other, but Remus really wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at. A glance at his jaw might ruin Spiderman’s lunch.

“I’m not looking,” Spidey said, and Remus realized he’d been hesitating for a few too many seconds. “I can go, if you don’t wanna pull up your mask around anyone.”

Remus waved him off, even as he continued to fiddle with the leather. “I’ve got some scars, is all. Like… a lot. People think they’re gross.”

“Oh,” Spiderman said, and then simply shrugged. “That’s fine, I don’t care. Scars happen, dude. I’ve got a bunch.”

Remus still hesitated, a little caught off guard from Spiderman calling him ‘dude' while so nonchalantly eating his pizza just a few feet away, but he quickly pulled himself together and tugged his leather mask up just below his nose.

It was just a few inches of skin, and still enough to reveal a handful of scars littered across his jaw, and the one that stretched down from his cheek.

Spidey barely glanced at him, which Remus guessed he should have seen coming. It’d be a little out of character for New York’s hero to be an asshole about someone’s scars, but you never knew with heroes. Some of them were pretentious assholes.

They ate their pizza like common civilians, perched on their rooftop and watching the people of New York mingle below.

Remus barely ate two slices. He didn’t really eat much to begin with, and it was far more entertaining to watch in silent awe as Spiderman easily finished the rest of the box. The hero was a good two heads shorter than Remus, and looked like he barely weighed a hundred pounds. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d think the guy never ate at all.

“My metabolism is different,” he explained sheepishly when he caught Reus staring. “I eat more than… you know. You. Regular people.”

Remus scoffed, because this was definitely the first time anyone had described him as a ‘regular person’ but he let it slide with an eye roll and a thanks for lunch.

They parted ways, and Remus let himself relax at the thought of having one less enemy roaming New York.

Remus hadn’t meant to start hanging out with Spiderman.

Really, he hadn’t. The impromptu pizza date was supposed to be the end of it, just a slightly awkward peace offering that made it clear neither of them would actively try to kill each other in the near future.

Remus had saved Spiderman because he was bored, and Spiderman had bought him a pizza. That was all.

But then less than a week later Spiderman had swung (literally) by with takeout- coincidentally from Remus’s favorite place a few blocks away- and Remus hadn’t been able to say no to sharing.

They’d shared a meal together three times in the last two weeks, and Remus was starting to think it wasn’t an accident.

It probably wasn’t helping that Remus had started carrying snacks on him.

Remus wasn’t going to eat them himself, and Spiderman was always complaining about how hungry he was, so he’d just started keeping packets of gummies or granola for when he saw the hero swinging past. Chucking them at his head was good target practice, anyway.

That didn’t mean they were friends. Remus didn’t have friends, because being friends with Deadpool was possibly the dumbest idea anyone could ever have.

Remus had seen what happens when people get close to him. He wasn’t going to go through that again.

Apparently, Spiderman had other ideas.

It had been just another fight that Remus had happened to run into, watching for a moment as Spiderman took down what was probably his third armed robbery of the day.

He knew he probably could have just continued on his way and gotten lunch, but there were five of them, all armed, and Remus didn’t feel great about those odds despite Spidey’s reputation.

So Remus had decided to return the favor, Spiderman had introduced himself by butting into Deadpool's fight after all, and stepped in to finish the job twice as fast.

And it had gone fine. Spiderman had greeted him with stupidly cheeky finger guns and unfortunately insisted they keep all of them alive, which wasn’t Remus’s specialty but he’d manage.

It had been easy, some druggie civilians no match for New York’s hero and the merc with a mouth, three of them encased in webbing within two minutes, another on the ground with a bullet in his knee.

It had been fine, until Remus was shot in the chest.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t a big deal. He was shot in the chest all the time. It’d be a hassle if he didn’t get the bullet out before his skin healed around it, but it wasn’t like he could die.

It occurred to him a bit too late that he had forgotten to tell Spiderman that.

“No!”

The raw panic and emotion In Spidey’s voice caught Remus off guard as he stumbled backwards, pain he was unfortunately used to by now exploding in his chest as the bullet met its mark. There had been a fifth goon, hiding out and biding his time, which would have been a great plan if it didn’t end with a face of webs and a swift punch to the temple.

Remus lowered himself to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, dark crimson blood pooling around his hand and flooding through his fingers as he clutched the wound.

Spiderman was rushing over, and Remus could practically feel the worry behind that lifeless mask. He skidded to a stop and dropped to a crouch, hands hovering, frantic and unsure.

And maybe Remus was just an asshole, but this was fucking hilarious.

“Deadpool?” Spidey called, the vigilante leaning over him as Remus dropped to lay on his back. “Jesus- hang in there okay? You’ll be fine.”

Remus forced himself to cough, wet and ragged, biting back a smile. “This is it for me, Webs. I can see the light.”

“Deadpool shut the fuck up!”

“Everything’s getting dark—”

“I said shut up,” Spiderman snapped, and Remus gasped involuntarily, arching his back when gloved hands pressed down on the wound. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re… just- just stay awake, okay? Don’t close your eyes.”

Remus coughed again to hide a smile, blood splattering his chin, closing his eyes anyway and letting his head fall back on the concrete. He stopped listening to Spidey’s rambling, committing to the bit of playing dead- very obviously playing dead, for the record. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and everything, waiting for Spiderman to catch on and tell him off.

“No!” Except Spidey still sounded genuinely distressed, only pressing harder on the wound. “No, no, no! Deadpool! Wake up!”

Well. This wasn’t any fun if Spiderman was too panicked to even pay attention. He sighed, opening his eyes again to sit up slightly and whack the vigilante’s shoulder.

“I can’t die, stupid,” he said, grinning when Spiderman scrambled back. “Cut it out. I’ve just gotta get the bullet out so it doesn’t heal around it. Those things hurt like a bitch, so—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, because there were lots of things wrong with him and he had a list at the ready. But he didn’t get the chance because suddenly Spidey was throwing himself forward, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling him close, probably getting blood all over his suit.

Haha, what the fuck?

“You’re such a bitch,” Spiderman said, muffled since his face was practically buried in Remus’s shoulder. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Aww, were you worried about me?” Remus asked, burying his shock. “That’s so sweet, Spidey.”

“Shut the hell up,” Spiderman growled. “I thought you were going to die.”

“You were so worried! It was so cute, oh my god!”

Spiderman finally pulled back, only to rear back and punch Remus square in the shoulder. Hard.

Remus barked out a laugh, now nursing two injuries. “Fucking- ow. I still feel pain.”

“Sucks.”

Remus crossed his arms, wincing when it pulled at the bullet wound still in his chest. “Rude.”

“I’m rude?” Spiderman asked, incredulous. “You thought it would be funny to play dead!”

“To be fair,” Remus argued. “It was funny.”

“No it wasn’t!”

Remus shrugged, already turning his attention to the bullet in his chest. “If you had known it would be funny.”

“Well I didn’t,” he said, the mask’s white eyes glued to Remus’s hands. “I thought you were dying.”

“I can’t die,” Remus said. “That’s not a joke, Webs. I don’t just regenerate fast, I can’t be killed.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

Remus shrugged, a little put off because this was not how he’d expected this to go. Damn Spiderman and his stupid savior complex.

He turned his attention back to the bullet wound, the pain already faded to a familiar numbness, but two gloved hands grabbed his wrists before he could start digging around for the bullet.

“Here,” he said, obnoxiously soft. “I’ve got it, let me help.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Remus said, tensing against his will at the thought of someone else caring for a wound. “It’s not too deep, I can get it.”

“Are your gloves clean?”

He took a minute to consider that, calculating the swords he’d been holding, the gun he’d reloaded that morning, coming up blank when he tried to think of the last time he’d properly cleaned any of his weapons. Not to mention he had to climb buildings with his hands, lacking Spidey’s abilities to walk up walls and propel himself across the city in seconds.

“Probably,” he lied. “What am I gonna do, get sick?”

Spiderman hesitated. “Do you do that?”

“No.”

“I can still get it,” Spidey said. “Let me help.”

Remus scoffed, trying to cover up his own uneasiness. “You wanna stick your hand in there? You know it’s gross, right?”

“I know how to remove a bullet, Deadpool,” Spiderman said. “I’ve gotten shot before, I can get it.”

There was no reason not to drop his arms and let Spiderman do what he wanted. The asshole was stubborn, but he obviously meant well. With how shaky Remus’s hands were, Spidey getting the bullet out would probably be quicker anyway.

And he was the city’s hero. He’d made it clear he didn’t mean Deadpool any harm, especially not when the Merc had so graciously dropped in to save his ass today.

Remus didn’t know why it was so hard to just relax.

“This is dumb,” he said, wondering if he could annoy Spidey into giving up. “I can handle it fine.”

“I know,” the vigilante said. “But I want to help. It’s like...returning the favor or whatever.”

Remus sighed, a little shaky now, but reluctantly nodded. The longer they argued, the faster the skin would heal over the bullet still lodged in his chest, and Remus would really like to avoid that happening. Again.

“Fine,” he growled. “Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

Under the mask, Remus was sure Spiderman was smirking at him. “Look who’s talking.”

Remus hadn’t expected Spiderman to be so gentle. He was digging a bullet wound out of Deadpool’s chest, there wasn’t really a way to make this a pleasant experience, but Spidey was taking his time, moving carefully as he dug into the wound.

“Could you hurry up?” Remus growled, teeth clenched. This would have been over in seconds if he was doing it himself. It was so much easier to just stick his hand in the wound, dig around for a second, and rip the bullet out. “I’m not exactly a fan of having someone else’s fingers in my chest.”

Spiderman didn’t even spare him a glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I got shot,” Remus snapped. “We’re well past that.”

Spidey didn’t respond after that and Remus for once stayed quiet to let him concentrate, breathing heavily to try to ignore the panic that came with being vulnerable like this. The vigilante couldn’t kill him, but he sure as hell could cause him a shit ton of pain.

But he wouldn’t. Remus had to keep reminding himself that he wouldn’t. Spiderman was insufferably good- he wouldn’t kick someone while they were down.

Eventually Spiderman’s fingers found the bullet and Remus gasped, forcing himself to shove the pain away and make a lewd sounding moan when Spidey’s fingers left the wound.

“Jesus,” Spiderman muttered, and Remus laughed when he tossed the bullet dripping in dark blood to the side. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Remus said, and he was. Physically at least. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a civil conversation with someone, let alone had someone willing to help patch him up. “See? All good. It’s already healing itself.”

True to his word, Remus’s chest was fusing itself back together, skin closing up over the still bleeding wound, the rest of the pain fading to a background throb. It’d be like nothing ever happened in ten minutes.

“Holy shit,” Spiderman muttered, leaning in close to watch. Remus tensed uncomfortably. “That’s...fucking wild.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Remus brushed it off, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the way Spidey moved to try and help. “Anyways. Are there any more fights you need me to hold your hand through, or can I go take a nap?”

“Oh please,” Spidey scoffed. “I was fine. All you did was get in the way and get shot.”

“I saved your ass,” Remus retorted, smiling behind the leather mask. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me, Webs.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Spiderman mumbled, but Remus was willing to bet money he was smiling too. “Go take your nap, Deadpool.”

Remus gave a mock salute, sheathing his sword and turning away from the remnants of the battle and starting for his apartment.

Maybe Spidey wasn’t so bad after all.

[wolfstar-supremacy-innit]

Spilling secrets: Remus' confession

Wolfstar one shot in which Remus is blackout drunk and reveals his feelings to Sirius. Loosely based on this lovely post. Sirius' POV, 2.2k words.

I will probably write another one shot, with the roles reversed (Spilling secrets: Sirius' confession), but don't hold me to that. :)

Enjoy lovelies <3

With a sizable effort, James and Sirius finally managed to shove Remus into his bed. Getting him up the stairs alone took 10 minutes. Remus kept stumbling back down towards the common room when the two other boys paused to take a breath from propping him up, before they realized there’s no letting go of Remus if they plan on getting him to the dorm before sunrise. He stirred in the bed for some time, but ultimately sprawled out on the sheets with a content smile on his face.

James and Sirius released monumental sighs of relief. The party downstairs was still in full swing, but both of them effectively sobered up from the bloody grapple they just endured.

“Bloody hell, the snockered bugger,” Sirius exclaimed wiping his forehead with his forearm. James laughed breathlessly at his choice of words.

“Right you are. You going back down?”

“Nah, I’m about ready to be dead asleep for the next three days after that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They barely changed out of their clothes when Remus suddenly exclaimed from under the covers: “Ugh, God!” The other two boys slowly turned to him. What now, Sirius thought. Remus irritably chucked the blanket away from his head, all the way to his waist. “Why does he have to be so fucking fit?!” James and Sirius exchanged an intrigued look, growing more amused by the second. Remus rarely, or essentially never made such comments. “With his fucking hands, and soft hair and bloody earrings, Jesus,” he continued muttering angrily, but the words became unintelligible as he turned over and stuck his face into the fluffy pillow.

“Who, Moony,” James asked.

“Fucking, Sirius!”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah, Moony, I’m here. Who’s fit?” But it kinda seemed Remus didn’t truly comprehend that he was in the room with people he knew.

“I told you. Sirius,” he continued, face still stuck in the pillow.

“Oh fucking hell. You didn’t tell me anything, mate.”

“Sirius is fucking fit, you idiot,” Remus slurred, voice muffled. He released a loud, annoyed groan, then: “I wanna shag him through the fucking wall.”

A dreadful, resounding silence iced over the room. Sirius felt blazing red heat crawling up his body from the pit of his stomach and settling rather heavily on his cheeks. Did he get that right? Seconds seemed to stretch as Sirius willed his mind to comprehend what he had just heard.

As if snapping both James and Sirius out of a trance, soft snores diffused over the room and James broke into quiet, intense giggles. Sirius felt hot all over with a feeling very very remotely familiar to him: embarrassment. You could probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of things that embarrassed Sirius Black, but boy, was this one of them. Not to mention the boner that was solemnly threatening to make a presence. “Merlin’s sock on a stick, Moony,” he said, nonplussed.

James managed to rein in his laughter enough to breathe out: “You are never going to live this down.”

“And if I shag him on your bed? Will I live it down then?” That seemed to sober James up like a downpour of ice water.

“Holy shit. Do you want to?”

“And what if I do?”

“N-nothing. T- that’s great for you lads, then,” James stammered, obviously bewildered.

“Alright then.” Sirius stepped towards Remus’ bed and pushed his shoulder back to roll him away from the pillow that was threateningly muffling his breathing. “So he doesn’t suffocate, the idiot.”

Without another word, the two boys got into their respective beds and drew the curtains. Sirius lay there, on top of the covers, staring at the drapes with large eyes. He shifted. Yep, an undignified boner was indubitably tenting his pajama bottoms. His heart was hammering, mind buzzing. Moony actually looked at him like that. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Or was he brain-dead pissed and just speaking nonsense? He felt a heavy lump of disappointment settle in his stomach.

“Padfoot,” came a voice from James’ bed. Sirius made a questioning sound. “Did you actually mean that? About Moony?”

Pause. “Yeah. I did.”

James cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay, cool. Cool, cool. Um, Padfoot?”

“Yeah?”

“You never told me you, um. You liked blokes.”

“Yeah, sorry. I told you now. Is that alright?” There was a silence that made Sirius’ mind stir with fear until he heard rustling and then a body jumped on him, encompassing him in a bone-crushing hug. Boy, was Sirius glad his boner dissipated in the panic of waiting for his best friend’s reaction.

“Of course it’s alright, you git!” Relief filled Sirius as a face-splitting grin stretched his mouth. Pulling apart after a few moments, they sat cross-legged across each other. “And Moony, blimey. What a catch, good on you, Sirius.”

“Hah. Well... We’ll se what the morning light brings.”

“Oh, shut it. Don’t go all poetic on me in the wee hours of the night. It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Sirius flopped around in bed the most of the night. Shortly after James returned to his own four-poster, Peter stumbled in from downstairs and flung himself into bed. Sirius couldn’t will his brain to quiet down enough to fall asleep for a long while. When he finally concluded all of the other boys were sound asleep, he resolved to have a wank thinking about no other than gorgeous, incredible Remus, laying just a couple of meters to the right, snoring away his insobriety. Well, what else was new?

<><><><><>

Sirius, Peter and Remus were sitting at breakfast, exchanging only a few words apart from ‘will you pass me that tray?’ The other two moved sluggishly with lidded eyes, but Sirius was restless. He kept shifting in his seat, shaking his knee under the table and taking bites of food too large to chew. When they woke up that morning like a bunch raised from the dead, Remus made it relatively clear that he, in fact, did not recall most of the party, let alone the atomic bomb he dropped to James and Sirius the previous night. James just smacked Sirius’ shoulder in consolation and left for the showers without saying a word.

Sirius needed to tell Remus and he needed to do it soon, or he thought his head might detach itself from his shoulders. Or he might vomit his heart out. Either way, Remus was sitting there, unsuspecting, looking heavenly with his wild bedhead and watery eyes and Sirius couldn’t keep his eyes off him. Thankfully, the others seemingly didn’t notice.

James plopped on the bench next to Sirius, pulling his attention towards himself. He took a double look at Sirius and made a show of scanning him up and down. “Bloody hell, Padfoot. Don’t you look fucking fit this morning?” Sirius immediately caught his drift, Remus’ words from the previous night etched in his brain like a carving. Test the waters a little. He smiled as James clapped him on the shoulder.

“Why thank you, Prongs.”

Remus’ brows furrowed as his eyes flickered between the two boys in front of him, then went back to eating with a puzzled expression.

“Yeah, like your hands and hair. Soft hair,” James corrected himself quickly, “and your earrings. Merlin, don’t get me started on your earrings.” Sirius felt himself blushing rapidly, remembering exactly where those words came from. Remus was gawking at James, hand holding a fork stopping mid-air. He and Peter looked at each other. Peter shrugged.

“Aw, thank you, Prongs. I’m touched.”

“Yeah, you probably will be later tonight,” James mumbled quietly and Sirius choked on his food, covering it up with a cough, then elbowed the boy next to him in the ribs.

“You two tryna tell us something?” Peter squinted at them.

James mock gasped. “Can’t I compliment my best mates?”

“You never compliment me like that. Or Moony,” said Peter.

“Don’t be jealous, Wormy. Everyone knows I’m simply irresistible,” Sirius chimed in, flashing a charming smile. Remus remained suspiciously silent, glancing between the three other boys.

A little while later as James and Peter engaged in a heated discussion about the Hawkshead Attacking Formation, Sirius seized his opportunity. “Hey Moons, you finished? I need to talk to you in the dorm.” Remus nodded and they slipped out of the Great Hall and headed for Gryffindor tower. Sirius was so jittery, he felt like somebody had hooked him up to a power plant and cranked up the voltage. He could easily make an absolute buffoon out of himself if Remus was just mumbling rubbish the previous night. They barely spoke all the way to the common room, except for Remus commenting on his dreadful hangover headache. When they arrived to the dorm, Sirius started unconsciously wringing his hands. Remus plopped on his bed casually and said: “What’d you want to talk about, Pads?”

Sirius sat next to him on the bed, heartbeat through the roof. “Right. Yeah. Right.” He cleared his throat in a pitiful attempt to give himself more time to get the sentence out of his mouth. “Yeah, so... You said something last night. When you were plastered.”

Remus’ face effectively blanched. “What?”

“Well, you were properly pissed, so maybe it was just rubbish...”

“What did I say, Sirius?”

“Okay, so...” He cleared his throat again. “You remember what James said to me when he came to breakfast this morning?” Remus just stared with wide eyes. “Well, basically that... And- and some other things.”

Remus made a face, then flopped face-first into the pillow. “Oh no. What other things?”

Sirius released a nervous chuckle. He started stammering like no bloody aristocrat ever, his effortless confidence long evaporated. Nobody made that happen like Remus. Nobody made that happen except Remus. “Oh, bugger,” were the first coherent words he managed to get out. Remus mumbled a ‘Jesus Christ’ into the pillow.

“You said you wanted to shag me.” The silence was deafening to poor Sirius who awaited an answer. He almost reached out to put a hand on the other boy’s shoulder, when Remus started laughing short, muffled giggles that shook his back. Dread struck Sirius.

“Well. I’m the biggest dumbass in England. Fantastic.”

“Did you not mean it?” His voice must have resonated with worry because Remus finally rolled a little to look at him for the first time in minutes.

“Did you want me to mean it?”

“What if I did?”

“Well that would probably be good, because I’m barely keeping myself from jumping your bones.”

Sirius barked out a laugh followed closely by a sigh of relief. “Yes, I bloody well wanted it.” Remus gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Sirius was slightly unsure what he was supposed to do, and it seemed like the other boy was too. Trying to take initiative, Sirius lifted his hand to place it on Remus’ shoulder, then changed his mind, going for his cheek, but chickened out at the last second and dropped it back on the bed. They laughed awkwardly. “Smooth,” Remus said. “Shut up. I’m nervous,” Sirius replied.

Remus huffed out another laugh and straightened the collar of his dress shirt as he said: “Okay.” He scooted closer to Sirius on the bed and actually put a gentle hand on his cheek. They stared at each other and Sirius felt pure, all encompassing giddiness simmering in his body, making his fingertips tingle. When their lips finally met, the kiss was delicate and tentative, like feet dipping into unknown waters. After a while, they both started smiling against each other’s mouth and Sirius’ heart fluttered with the warmth that consumed him. Feeling bolder, he licked Remus’ lower lip and he responded at once, gliding their tongues together. Oh, okay, boner again, then. When they pulled apart, Sirius said: “Yep, I’m definitely gay.” Remus laughed, bowing his head and resting it on Sirius’ shoulder.

“I’m that good?”

“That you are,” Sirius responded without missing a beat. He brought Remus’ head back up with a hand on his neck, then pushed him backwards onto the bed with a forceful kiss. He threw a leg over the other boy, straddling his hips. Remus mumbled an ‘mmm’ into his mouth.

“As much I want to do this, and trust me, you’ve no idea how much, we have Potions in five minutes,” Remus said, pulling away. Sirius just resumed kissing him, then replied: “I reckon I might last shorter than that.” The tawny-haired boy chuckled, but still pushed him off. “I’d rather do it when we have more time. And I’m not too keen on doing detention tonight, when I could be snogging you in some empty classroom.” Sirius grinned. “I like the way you think, Mr. Moony.”

As they hurried down a corridor, Sirius remembered. “Oh, yeah. One more thing. James was there with me last night when you professed your undying attraction to me.”

“Oh, fuck’s sake.”

I am kinda proud of this, hope you like it as much as I do. I thought it was funny and I just love the idea of the usually overly confident, heartthrob Sirius completely losing his cool around Remus and also awkward teenage boys being dumbasses.

[magniloquent-raven]

billy blinks. squints at the wall, glaring blearily at the spots of peeled paint next to his headboard. he rubs sleep from his eyes. tries to, anyways, he's still exhausted when his hand drops away, palm hitting the wrinkled pillowcase under his head.

his eyes hurt. a dry ache. he's not sure when he drifted off. what time it is now. but he sure as hell didn't sleep long enough.

the rest of him hurts too.

still.

he kind of hoped he could just sleep it off, like a cold. but no. his stomach is killing him, all twisted up with a deep, throbbing pain, like a bruise he can't stop pressing, and the insides of his thighs are sticky. he's probably gonna need to change his stupid sheets now.

he lifts his blanket enough to let some light in, and. yeah.

great.

standing up is a chore. his vision goes a little spotty and he sways. by the time he's shuffled to the bathroom he's got a little blood running down his leg and he's regretting every single choice that brought him to this point.

he cleans himself up as quickly as he can when his entire body is telling him to just curl into a ball and die right here on the bathroom floor. but it takes him like eight tries to aim the stupid tampon thing right and by the time it's up there he's got frustrated tears in his eyes and he thinks he might actually just drop dead.

irritated and in pain, he shuffles back to his room, rips the soiled sheets off his mattress and balls them up. they get chucked across the room, falling in a heap on the already cluttered floor. his bloodied sweatpants land next to them.

he stares at the mattress, and thinks about how far away clean sheets are, and how much fucking work it would be to make the damn bed and...

fuck this.

he pulls on relatively clean pants, grabs a throw blanket off the chair in the corner, wraps himself up in it, and launches himself back on the bare mattress.

it feels like seconds later there's a knock at the door, but the sunlight is painting a different wall than it was a second ago, and his knee hurts, like it's been curled up in one position too long.

the knocking continues. he doesn't move. whoever it is can go the hell away, he doesn't want to see anyone. not right now. he moved to a whole new goddamn city for a reason, and he's not about to get outed like this.

but then the lock clicks open, and the hinges squeak, and billy's back stiffens, and--

"hey, billy? you're home right, i'd feel really weird about this if you aren't--" steve. it's steve. god fucking damnit. his voice is getting closer and billy curls in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut like he can stop all this from happening if he just doesn't look, "i put the spare key back where it was, but i keep telling you under the mat isn't a good hiding spot, and--oh hey! you are here!"

"am not," billy mutters, pulling the blanket over his head. it's too small, and his ankles are cold now, but he can't deal with this right now. good thing he hasn't eaten since yesterday morning, because he's probably gonna throw up.

"billy? are...you alright?" the mattress creaks, weight shifting as steve sits on the edge of the bed. billy can feel him at his back, even though they aren't touching, and his heart twists. "uh, heather said you called in sick yesterday and you, like, never do that, and--oh holy shit, is that blood?" his voice cracks a little, and suddenly his hand his warm on billy's shoulder, moving restlessly.

the contact is jarring, and billy jerks, sitting up, shuffling back. he bites back a groan. moving hurts. he slumps against the headboard and tries not to look too much like he's curling in on himself.

steve is glancing between billy and the balled up sheets on the floor, wide-eyed. his hand hovers between them, reproachful.

"m'fine, harrington, it's nothing."

"you--c'mon, man." he's all gangly and bambi-eyed and adorable and sitting on billy's bed and it's annoying. billy always wants him around when he isn't, and the one time he doesn't want to see anyone...

billy pulls his knees to his chest. "fuck off." but steve just shuffles closer, and billy groans. "would you just let me bleed out in peace, jesus christ."

steve blinks at him. his gaze wanders, probably looking for an injury that isn't there. "do you need, like, a...doctor, or...?"

"no."

"what do you need then."

he's irritated at himself for feeling all squiggly warm inside at that. steve's still watching him, a little concerned pinch between his brows.

"i..." billy scratches his cheek. "don't have a hot water bottle."

"so...you...want me to get you one?"

"no, i want you to be one."

"...what?"

of course steve wouldn't just get it. he's gonna have to fucking say it because nothing is ever easy.

billy scrubs his eyes roughly. "would you just--fucking, hold me, alright?"

steve's lips part in surprise, and his eyebrows shoot up. his cheeks flush. and he doesn't say no. he doesn't pull away. billy's heart pounds.

"i--yeah--yeah, i can do that."

billy inhales a little sharply. because steve is stripping off his jacket. and the blush on his cheeks is creeping down his neck. and he's scooting over to sit beside billy, and he smells like the coffee shop he works at and hairspray and something musky, masculine, and--

the first touch is light, steve's fingers tapping his side, and there's an amused glint in his eye. "you wanna lie down, or, how you wanna do this?"

"uh. honestly i didn't think i'd get this far."

steve's rests his palm on billy's stomach, fingers splayed, and billy reminds himself to breathe. "lemme just," steve mutters, and shifts around, sliding billy into his side, cradled in his arms. "this okay?" the question tickles billy's ear.

he nods, not trusting his voice.

steve's hands are warm. strong. comforting. he's got nice hands, billy's always thought so. from the moment he saw him, wanted to do all kinds of things with those hands. but this is...different.

good, but different.

he drifts off again, this time nestled in a soft embrace, still aching, but now with someone to help bear the weight of it. the last thing he registers before sleep takes him again is the soft press of lips against his temple, and for the first time in two days the corner of his mouth lifts into a smile.