#mostly just a scribble because i was out doing nothing for like 8 hours and i got bored

[medicalunprofessional]

Ohhhh my brain feeled funny.. ….

[writing-whump]

Maybe something with Rip and Dylan in their new place in the nearby? With Rip wanting to prove (himself and everybody else) that he is fine and capable of taking care of himself... and failing miserably, because it's still too early. 👀

(I imagine it could be overwhelming/hard for him to be on 'foreign' terrain for so long, pinned to the bed (I remember him enjoying walking on the roofs), with 'so much' other wolfes (even if he tolerates Dylan and is thankfull to the rest of them) - as he is more accustomed to be mostly on his own, only. And now, having some independency...

You know. Small steps. 🐾 )

This is a perfectly fitting prompt for Rip! I love it so much!!

In the absence of fear

"What are you doing?" Seline asked, descending the stairs at the late hour of 11 in the morning, only to find Dylan and Matthew sprawled on the couch in front of the TV.

"Chilling," Dylan said in his best bratty teenage tone.

Seline blinked at him in disbelief. It was the tone she was the most familiar with, but she hadn't heard it in the last three weeks. Not since Rip.

"Did something happen? How is Rip? What are you-"

"Hey, Sis, do something for me? Chill out. Too many questions." Dylan rubbed his eyes, slumping back to occupy most of the couch.

Matthew looked completely unbothered. He had been running and sparring for so much the past week it was a wonder he was even awake. Seline got the gist he was trying to tire himself out from feeling anything that could upset his shadow.

"Is Isaiah awake?"

Dylan threw his hand back towards the kitchen. "Prepared us breakfast. Asked about you and then went to his room to work on some papers or whatever."

Seline bit her lip. Summer break had thrown her weekend routine out the window. Her disciplined schedule of early mornings and socializing had given way to lazy starts. She now woke up at 8, lingering in bed to listen to music and daydream, scribbling poems and story beginnings until hunger finally drove her out.

She was glad Isaiah hadn’t come to get her. Despite their occassional mutual confusions and misunderstandings, he understood when she needed space. Perhaps because he often needed it himself.

Seline went to get the two eggs in glass and the ham and small tomatoes, wondering what emotional mood Dylan was in. Enough to ask about when he was gonna visit mother? Was this a teenage mood of "let me chill and watch TV cause I can't do that at home" or something else?

It was a wonder how much you could lose touch with one another after just a year of living apart.

Seline came back to the living room with a steaming cup of coffee, leaning against the back of the sofa.

"Any plans for today?"

Dylan didn't look up, staring at the screen with intent that the ad for chicken prices couldn't warrant.

"Did something happen?" she tried again.

"Oh nothing," Dylan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Just that mister Grumpy woke up, bit my fucking head off-"

"Language."

"-for asking him what he wanted to eat. He wants to be alone so much, he can be my fucking guest."

"Aha." Problems in paradise, huh? She was surprised the boys had lasted that long. When it wasn't so serious, they were still just a couple of teenage boys with heightened emotions and cranky shadows.

And Dylan, for all his good qualities, was very easy to offend.

...

It was so quiet.

Rip, feeling the rare sensation of having both strength and space, began to cautiously explore the new place. He could not, by all means, consider it his, but he could also not relax if he didn't inspect every corner on his own.

It had basic furniture. A living room and two small bedrooms and a kitchen. It was the biggest and cleanest place Rip had been in undisturbed for a very long time, if not ever.

Isaiah rented it and his pack and Dylan helped clean it up. The disinfection helped get the foreign scents out so they could get used to it more easily.

It smelled like Dylan. Which wasn't an offensive scent, just a reminder of how incapable Rip currently was of leaving his own trail behind.

He made himself shuffle from one corner to the next. Touch a wall, go to the next one. About time he made himself walk.

His side burned at the movement, but it was just a patch of pain instead of it shooting up his stomach and chest and paralysing him all the way. Progress, no matter how small and frustrating.

He ended up perched at the window still in the living room, opening it ajar so he could breathe the fresh air in eager gulps.

Rip craved the outside.

He wanted to escape the walls of protection, of this locked-up feeling. He wanted the roofs, the heights, the wind in his face. The feeling of his legs when running, to tense his hands when he climbed up a railing, the view from the top of a building, with the world bustling beneath him.

This place was just so quiet, it was deafening.

It was never like this at his place. The familiar sounds of the streets, footsteps, and wolves that could appear at any moment, but followed certain patterns in the early morning, after sundown, and always after midnight… now that he was aware of himself and his surroundings again, it felt wrong not to have them around.

Rip leaned against the wall, legs folded underneath him. He could smell rain in the air. Thunder would be a welcome sound, something to pierce through this neutral, nothing saying grayness.

A growing pressure inside his skull hinted at the approaching storm, making it hard to concentrate. These days, exhaustion overtook him quickly; a few steps left him breathless and his eyes heavy with sleep. He had learned not to fight it, knowing it would only bring more exhaustion.

Rip unglued himself from the window, moving carefully to let his legs down onto the floor. He made the last few meters to the couch and collapsed on it.

Rip struggled to recall why Dylan had left that morning. Did they have a fight? What about? Yes, Rip was getting frustrated and cranky and he wanted Dylan to leave him alone, to let him breathe, just for a second. He didn't mean for the other boy to leave, but now, with the quiet enveloping him, he was sort of glad he did.

There was relief and peace in the silence. To not being watched all the time like some invalid. To not being reminded of everything he could not do, that he had to get help for. At least now he had an illusion of not needing it.

Rip was eternally grateful and obligated to Dylan anyway. Was there a point in pretending he was happy about it? Why could Dylan just not leave him alone, like everyone else did, like he deserved? How long would he have to wait until Dylan got fed up with him—of how much of a burden Rip was?

Rip curled up on the couch, shivering with a sudden coldness. His shirt was itchy against the stitches. It was Dylan's shirt, too. Dylan brought with more clothes from his childhood home, clothes he didn't need than Rip ever owned in his life.

He closed his eyes, pulled into a restless sleep, guilty and undeserving as always.

An axe came down on his head.

Rip woke up with a start, covered in sweat, breath hitching. The room was dark, twilight behind the windows. His heart was beating harshly against his ribs.

He shifted on the couch to move to the bed, when he realized what had woken him. A bone-splitting pain, as if struck by a dream axe, radiated from the left side of his forehead up into his hairline. Rip doubled over under the weight of his own head, fists clenching at his sides.

This was a new pain, one he didn't know. The knife-wound was worse at its time, but this was debilitating in its unexpectedness. What was going on? The dull pressure he felt turned into this while he slept? What did he do?

He slowly dragged himself to his feet and swayed immediately, having to catch himself on the couch. His sense of balance was shot. Thank god the room was so dark, because he couldn't open his eyes more than to slits. The pain pounded through his head in synch with his heartbeat and he was breathing harshly, like he had just stopped running, like he was still capable of running. His stomach leaped and jumped unhappily.

Nope, with the split in his skull and the stitches, all he could do was shuffle forward, one painful step at a time. He managed to get all the way to the kitchen and had to lean with both hands against the table to stay upright. The pain made him dizzy, a heavy piece of iron in his head being slammed in by a hammer.

There was a slimy feeling slithering behind his teeth. As the room span dizzily around him, he realized it was nausea. Jesus Christ, what was this?

Rip took deep breaths through his mouth, waiting till the room settled back to try new steps. He had to calculate his path carefully, cause he didn't think he could walk straight. He dared a couple steps from the table towards the wall. His brain was rattling in his skull and he pressed his forehead against the cool steady surface until the dizziness died down. His teeth tickled, something heavy against his throat.

Halfway through the next impossible step, he realized he better aim for the bathroom instead. His stomach was positively churning and twisting, making his toes curl up.

Half-blind from the pounding thoughts-melting pain and the nauseating dizziness, Rip finally made it to the bathroom, in front of the toilet. That was about all he managed before he was vomiting, head exploding with pain that had him seeing stars.

...

Dylan really didn't need Seline telling him he was acting childish.

So what if he was? If Rip wanted to have a day for himself, because Dylan's fussing was annoying or whatever, then he could have it. Dylan was doing Rip a favor, not himself.

Plus, spending the day on the couch with Matthew, switching between Netflix series, was a welcome break after the admittedly tough three weeks he had just gone through.

At least he was getting to know Seline's pack better after barging in on them with a favor. Favour for stupid Rip. How come that even when he was doing his best not to think about the guy, he still ended up circling back to him?

When Dylan stepped into their shared apartment, he expected it to be quiet. Rip was always quiet, when he wasn't growling at him in frustration to chase him away. Of course Dylan knew that was just another way of Rip doing so. He tried the dying and the "I can't pay you back" crap before, so this was a logical next step.

Should he announce himself or let the injured wolf sleep? Maybe they could end the day not talking and start afresh tomorrow.

There was a faint coughing sound that stopped him in his steps though. Dylan listened, pinpointing the direction. It was coming from the bathroom.

Dylan frowned, but went to investigate. The door was half-way open and he was confused, so he stuck his head in...and opened it all the way immediately, running inside.

The bathroom was a mess. There was vomit everywhere. On the floor, around the toilet, on the seat, under the sink...and Rip was in the middle of it, face pressed against the tiles, both hands wrapped around his head from behind, gasping for breath.

"Holy fucking shit-"

Rip made a noise, somewhere between a sob and a keening wail. Dylan immediately shut his mouth, sliding to his knees beside him. "What happened? What's wrong? Rip?"

Dylan struggled to get a look at Rip's face. His throat was bobbing loudly and he was shaking all over. "Rip? Rip, talk to me!"

Rip shuddered at his voice near his ear, curling into himself. "M-my head..."

"Your head?" Dylan said incredulously. What? That had nothing to do with the stitches. "Did you hit it or something?"

"N-no-..." Rip coughed and swallowed heavily. He was covered in sweat, black curly hair plastered to his neck. "Hurts...like an axe is splitting it open-" he whimpered. Actually whimpered. Dylan hadn't seen him whimper like that since the first day after the injury, when his shadow returned and Rip got his sense of pain back.

"I-I don't understand," Dylan said helplessly, reaching for Rip's shoulder. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna get you up from the floor, okay?"

Rip winced, hands going around his stomach as if to hug himself, but didn't protest.

Dylan took him by the shoulder and gently straightened him up. He wrapped his arm around Rip's back and pulled him to his feet.

The reaction was immediate. Rip shuddered and coughed, his stomach expelling a fresh wave of vomit down his front. Dylan had to hold on to him as the sick wolf's legs buckled underneath him with another wave of watery vomit right onto the floor.

"Okay, not the brightest idea," Dylan said, fighting back a gag of his own at the horrible scene and smell.

"S-sorry, I c-can't-"

"It's alright," Dylan said through gritted teeth, waiting till the waves tampered down. Rip stayed bent in half, dry-heaving for a good half a minute before the fit ended, only to immediately slump back. Dylan barely caught him with a curse.

"Can you move?" Which really meant if he could walk without vomiting again.

Rip just whimpered, hands clutching at the left side on top of his forehead like he had a cut there.

"Christ, when did this start? Did you feel sick to your stomach all of a sudden?" Dylan dragged him away from the messed-up bathroom, realizing that every room they went to was at risk of becoming the same. It worried him out of his mind that he didn't know what this was. Could Rip really get an infection, after all this time? Did he eat something outside the broths and soups Dylan, Sel and Isaiah made for him? They had a supply of them in the fridge, surely Rip wouldn't risk eating something else, so soon after the IV?

Dylan opted to maneuver them to Rip's room, hoping his own space, however new, would bring him some degree of comfort. He helped him up on the bed and onto his back, gently trying to pry Rip's hands out of his face. "Let me see, buddy, come on."

Rip let out a pitiful whine, reluctantly letting go. His hands were curled up into fists again and his face was scrunched up in a pained grimace, shirt all wet up from his chin to his middle.

Dylan inspected the place Rip kept pressing against, careful fingers sliding up and down, but there was nothing—not even a bump, a cut, no bleeding.

When he retracted his hands, Rip immediately went to hold the spot again, curling up on his side with a whimper.

"Wait, man, we should get you out of that shirt..."

Rip keened again, obviously beyond caring about the vomit on his clothes, the pain riding out everything else, whispering desperate little: "Make it stop, please make it stop..."

Dylan crouched down beside him, planting one hand on Rip's shoulder again. He wrinkled his nose at the stench before fishing out his phone. He could not do this alone.

...

Rip was wiggling on the bed in agony. He didn't know he could feel pain comparable to the stab wound, but he was proven wrong.

He never had headaches in his life. It was the most unlikely place to get injured, really, if you weren't falling down or getting it bumped.

The bite marks on his neck and arms, the hot piercing feeling of an enemy shadow sliding through his body, body punches — he was used to that. He could handle it.

This pounding pain in his forehead — why the specific spot anyway ?— was unexpected and foreign, and it scared him all the more because of how unpredictable it was.

Not to mention the accompanying dizziness and nausea and the way it messed with his equilibrium and senses. He couldn't think, he couldn't feel anything else. Vaguely he realized he wasn't alone, that Dylan came, that the cold bathroom tiles weren't digging into his knees anymore, but that was about it. His stomach muscles hurt from heaving, his stitches burned, but it was nothing against the hammer driving spikes into his left temple.

And then suddenly the Executioner was there, kneeling by his bed with a small crease etched between his eyebrows. Rip shivered at the sight, but really, what worse could the Executioner do than put him out of his misery?

"Rip. Rip, I need you to focus on me. Have you ever had headaches or migraines before?"

Rip thrashed, struggling to stay still and meet Isaiah’s gaze. Focusing on one spot intensified the pain, making Isaiah's face a blur and nausea rise in his throat. He fought down a retch. "No."

"Is your shadow hurt?"

Rip's lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "No." His shadow tried. It tried running through him, to heal him, to help, but it managed nothing against the pain. Its grief over it echoed in Rip's chest.

He saw more than felt Isaiah reaching over to his side. Ah right, it was the Executioner after all, who 'operated' him. Without flinching, the older wolf lifted the hem of his stained shirt, looking over the stitches, his expression dissatisfied.

"What's wrong with him?" Dylan's voice sounded anxious, somewhere to Rip's left. He didn't like his fear. Dylan was supposed to be optimistic, calming him, reassuring him that everything could be healed. Dylan's worry made Rip's lips tremble, eyes burning with tears.

"Dylan, get me two large towels, one wet and one dry. And a mixing bowl, if you would be so kind. If you could take care of the bathroom, that would be great."

Isaiah sending Dylan away instead of providing a solution felt alarming. Like he was about to do something Dylan wasn't supposed to see. Maybe Rip really was dying this time.

"I'm going to lift you up, okay?" Isaiah said it more like a warning than a question, cause he pulled Rip up by the arms, before Rip could think better of it. It ushered up a new dizzy spell and a gag, Rip slumping in Isaiah's arms like a rag doll. His breathing was erratic, fast and painful to his own ears, though he couldn't feel any pain past his head.

Isaiah peeled the filthy shirt off matter-of-factly, holding Rip up until Dylan came with the towel. The oldest wolf put the dry one under Rip's pillow before letting him lie down, then positioned the wet one over his head.

Rip sighed in appreciation at the cool sensation against the digging, bleeding spike that should have, by all means, dug its way through his brain by now. It brought a smitten of relief, though send shivers down his spine and exposed arms.

Isaiah drew the covers over Rip's trembling chest. He stayed seated on the bed beside Rip's head. "The bowl is right here. If you feel sick, it's okay."

Rip wrapped his hands around his sore stomach. He rolled to his other side so he could press his forehead into the towel easier. "D-do you know w-what's wrong with me?" He hated the stumble in his voice, but he also couldn't care less in the face of the debilitating pain.

Isaiah gave a long sigh, leaning against the headboard. Rip didn't understand the proximity, but at least he didn't have to talk loudly. "I have an idea, yeah."

"Can't you make it stop? If it's t-he injury-"

"It's not. And if your shadow isn't working, I doubt any painkillers will, though we can try it, once you feel less pukey."

Rip unglued his eyes, making himself look up at the Executioner leaning over him with a calm expression. Few more stress tears slid down his cheek from how intensely he had to focus to keep his eyes open.

"It's the stress," Isaiah said after a moment, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall. "Or rather, the lack of it. When you stay in an intense, painful situation for a long time, your body adapts to survive. But once you relax, everything catches up to you."

Rip sniffled, scrunching his nose. That sounded like total bullshit.

"For real, kid. Migraines are just one of the ways your body can react."

"H-how do you know?" Rip couldn't help the growl in his voice. What kind of nonsense was Isaiah spewing? He could not be getting this hurt from relaxing, for Shadow's sake.

Isaiah was quiet for a while, his voice strained and tense as it pierced through Rip's headache. "When I left my pack for the first time, I went through something similar. Knowing I wouldn't have to get hurt anymore, that I was safe — it made me sick for weeks. Hurting in places I never realized, places I'd never been hurt before. It was like the years of pain suddenly crashed over me, demanding their toll all at once."

Rip took a hitching breath. He wasn't sure if this was information someone should know about an Executioner without their life being at risk. His head couldn’t fathom why Isaiah would share something so personal and revealing, or what horrors his pack could have inflicted to compare to Rip's life as a street stray.

Yet, something in Rip's chest unclenched at the words. A mix of relief that there was an explanation, that someone understood, that he wasn't alone in feeling pathetic, weak, and in pain. Isaiah shared the information so easily, admitting something Rip had to be in agony to confess.

The flood of confusing emotions and thoughts had the hammer coming down a bit more forcefully. Rip groaned at the sensation, giving up the fight and squeezing his eyes shut. "F-few w-weeks?"

"No, kid. I'm sure it won't last that long for you." Isaiah's hand twitched towards Rip, but then he let it fall to his side.

Rip wasn't sure if the Executioner was telling the truth or lying to comfort him, but he would take the lie with all he had.

[pessimisticoptimistsblog]

A/N – There is Alastor slander in this. He’s an amazing character so far, and I know some people love him, but he’s literally evil. Also, I messed up the timeline again 🤦‍♀️ I completely forgot that there's 5 months between the first extermination and when Lucifer comes to the hotel. But I have a plan to kinda fix it.. Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 5

Radio Bitch

The next morning found Lucifer and Caelwen in the fallen angel’s workshop. He had decided last night, as they gathered every book and scroll that mentioned bindrunes, that they’d be more comfortable in there and could have lunch brought to them. So they wouldn’t have to stop working through the spell, of course! Definitely not because he wanted to invite her into one of his most personal spaces and show her the ducks he was so passionate about! Absolutely nothing like that. Nope.

Caelwen had been taken aback at the sheer number of rubber ducks that greeted her when Lucifer opened the door. She might not have been tall, but some of the piles had to have been almost twice her height! Unfortunately, Lucifer took her look of shock as a negative and let his anxiety override his mouth. He spent the next 10 minutes darting around the room, grabbing random ducks and shoving them into the Nephilim’s arms while explaining what each one did.

“-and this one has a knife inside, for self-defense. This one can be warm or cold to help if you’re sick! Oh and-“

Caelwen had sat the pile of ducks in her arms down before grabbing Lucifer by the shoulders. She leveled him with a gentle stare then pulled away once she was sure he wouldn’t dart off again. *They’re lovely, Lucifer. Truthfully, I’m amazed by how many there are and all that they can do. And one day maybe we can organize them properly and you can tell me about every last one. For now, though, how about we sit down and see if we can’t finish this spell?*

Her genuine smile and kind words eased Lucifer’s racing mind and brought him mostly back from his spiral into a mental breakdown. He loved this room but, apparently, his depression and loneliness were tied rather closely to it. Lucifer grabbed Caelwen’s hands from his shoulders and returned her smile, leading her to the couch near the workshop door. They sat down next to each other, thighs grazing just slightly, as Lucifer snapped his fingers and made their books appear. Caelwen picked up the notebook she had been writing in last night and flipped to her page where they were putting together runes to make their own bindrune that, with Lucifer’s magic, should cancel out the one Adam used.

The next few hours were spent with the two leaning on each other, Lucifer reading from books or scrolls while Caelwen jotted down anything important to what they needed. Soon the page she was working on was full of various runes and notes about how they worked or what they would mean when placed with another rune. The Nephilim tapped Lucifer’s knee and showed him what she had so far. *I think we might have everything here. It doesn’t seem like it needs to be intricate as long as the right intentions are behind it.*

The fallen angel took in the messy scribbles on the page, making out the different runes that were underlined and what they were for, before his attention drifted to green eyes staring at him. The woman looked so hopeful and eager, excitement pouring off of her as she grinned. For a moment, Lucifer took all of her in; from her bright eyes and messy hair slipping from the bun on top of her head, to the faint dimple on the left side of her face and the way her nose scrunched just slightly. Only a week with this woman and he was falling rapidly.

Caelwen had noticed Lucifer’s lack of response and his staring, taking a moment herself to admire the man in front of her and wonder how she had gotten so lucky to earn his attention. His hair was pushed back like normal with just a few pieces falling across his forehead, his smile was small but oh so welcoming, and his yellow and red eyes were soft and warm. They had both started leaning closer towards the other, like magnets pulling each other in.

Suddenly a song played from Lucifer’s pocket, startling the two and sending Lucifer to the floor in surprise.

He fumbled in his pockets for his phone, mentally cursing the offensive device for ruining whatever was about to happen. Once out of his pocket, Lucifer looked to see who dared call him before freezing when he saw the name – Charlie.

“Daughter? Daughter! Daughter calling?!” He panicked, jumping up and beginning to pace. “Oh! Um-uh ‘Hello Charlie’ ‘Hey Char-Char’ No! No, that’s not good. This has to be perfect.” Lucifer paused before finally clicking to answer the phone. “Hey Bitch!”

Caelwen rolled her eyes and chuckled silently. This all-powerful angel was so awkward it was adorable. The Nephilim sat through the phone call watching Lucifer as he paced around the workshop. His nervousness was cute but also concerning; was his relationship with Charlie always this strained? Poor things. Charlie had seemed like such a sweet girl, she hoped they’d be able to mend their bond, they both deserved to know how wonderful the other was.

~Ding~

A quiet chime pulled Caelwen from her thoughts and to her own phone to see a couple messages from Nia.

Nia: Hey boss, not a huge deal or like an issue, but could you maybe check in at that hotel place? Rocco says the radio demon there is making shit difficult. And apparently, one of the other demons is sort of psycho? Not sure about that part, but probably worth looking into?

Nia: If you’re busy, though, I can totally do it. Just not till tomorrow. Maybe. Depends on this bitch Velvette and how many more times she barges in here looking for you.

“I’ll be there in an hour!” Lucifer hung up the phone, excited and feeling lighter than air. His daughter invited him to see her project! Take that depression! He spun in a circle, excitement pumping through his veins before he spotted Caelwen still sitting on the couch looking at him and giggling silently.

*I take it that was a good phone call?*

“ Oh, uh.. yeah it was. Sorry for sort of-.. it was just, just Charlie and it was the first time she’s called me! Well since she asked me to meet with you. But this time, she invited me over! Although that does mean we’ll have to come back to the spell later… I hope that’s okay?” Lucifer was worried he might have upset Caelwen until he saw her smile at him brightly.

Caelwen waved off Lucifer’s apology before signing, *It’s no problem! I’ve waited this long, what’s one more day? Besides, I have something I need to do as well. Nia just messaged me and needs me to check in on the hounds I have at Charlie’s hotel, make sure everything is going as it should.*

The fallen angel’s shoulders slumped in relief, greatful he hadn’t upset his companion. “Thank you for understanding. I promise, as soon as I get back, we will set your soul free. And then- wait did you say you need to go to the hotel too? Did something happen?!”

Lucifer was bursting with panic again - was that why Charlie had called him? Why hadn’t she sounded more urgent?!

Caelwen jumped up from the couch and walked to Lucifer, cupping his face in her hands and making him look at her. *Everything is fine. I promise. It’s just one of the demons there is making things tricky for my employees. I’m just going to make sure he remembers his place, that’s all. I’m sure Charlie is fine. Please, breathe*

Cealwen began taking deep breaths, holding eye contact with Lucifer until he followed suit. As he calmed down, the fallen angel closed his eyes and relaxed into his companions hands still holding his face.

The woman smiled softly, pulling her hands away slowly. *I need to go now though. For one, it’s probably best demons don’t see us walking around together. And secondly, I have a feeling I’ll need a moment with Charlie before you pull her away. The issue seems to be with a demon staying in the hotel that I refuse to allow around my hounds.* Caelwen’s eyes narrowed when she mentioned the issue, a frown set in, and the woman’s aura darkened briefly before she shook it off noticing Lucifer’s concerned gaze.

“Should, uh should I be worried about this demon?” Lucifer asked with an eyebrow raised slightly.

*Of course not! I can handle myself and this demon just fine and one of the hounds I have stationed at the hotel will be there.* Caelwen’s grin turned sadistic, *I dare him to try one of his tricks. His sabbatical will be much more permanent this time if he does.*

Lucifer couldn’t decide if he was concerned, intrigued, or turned on by the Nephilim in front of him; one minute she was so sweet and kind, the next she looked ready to brutally murder anyone that got in her way.

The woman checked the time on her phone, *I should get going. I’ll still be there when you arrive, but I want to handle my mess ASAP.* She waved to Lucifer before leaving the workshop and allowing her shadows to surround and transport her to the Hazbin Hotel.

Outside the hotel, Madame C was greeted by Rocco who had just finished a lap of the perimeter. One of her more mild employees, Rocco stood almost 7 feet tall with an average build, but what he lacked in muscles he more than made up for in his agility.

“Hey boss lady, Nia said you’d be by. Glad you could make it so quickly, honestly. Listen, I know we’re supposed to just power through the annoying or rough clients, but the radio demon is… well he’s not-“ Rocco cut off, a shiver running down his and Madaem C’s spines. They both turned to see the radio demon himself walking up to them, his Cheshire grin firmly in place.

“Hellooo good friends! What a lovely day it is. And how wonderful to see you again Madame C, such a shame you left before we could chat the other day. Now, what exactly brings you to our lovely hotel, dear? Looking to join our cause, perhaps?” Alastor had stopped close to Madame C and proceeded to lean in towards her face as he spoke.

Rocco made to step forward before he felt and saw his boss’s aura rise and darken more than he thought possible. Everyone at the company knew she could be scary, it was how she had earned a place as an overlord while owning no souls, but this chilled his blood and made him take a step back. Rocco even noticed Alastor’s eye twitch slightly.

Madame C’s eyes had begun to glow an eerie neon green and she tilted her head to the side, a wide evil grin rivaling Alastor’s splitting the darkness shielding the rest of her face. Alastor’s radio cane crackled to life sounding like someone switching rapidly between stations.

Suddenly, snippets of recordings could be heard with certain words standing out clearly. “You.. need to…back-UP! My… hounds are…not… FOR.. you… Al..-store. Don’t make… me…put you… in… -your place. AGAIN” Rocco was frozen in shock, he didn’t know his boss could do that.

As the two demons stared each other down, footsteps could be heard coming towards the group. Rocco looked out of the corner of his eye, afraid to fully look away from his boss should she need him, to see Princess Charlie grinning and waving at them.

“Ohmygod, hi! It’s so nice to see you again! Rocco said you might be stopping by soon. Is everything …okaayyy?” The princess trailed off, noticing the tension between Alastor and Madame C. “Uhh.. you two.. know each other, I’m guessing? Heheh…” Charlie trailed off, looking between the two demons and hell hound.

The two demons continued to hold each other’s stare until finally Alastor straightened and looked to Charlie, “Of course! Madame C and I have known each other for quite some time. We’re both very powerful Overlords as well and tend to run in similar circles due to that. She’s a lovely woman!”

Madame C schooled her features and tamed her aura, before turning to Charlie, even though only her eyes were fully visible she refused to let the radio bitch see the affect he had. Her soul hurt to put the strain on it she needed when using the amount of power she had. She grasped her hands together tightly to steady the slight shake and gave a small bow to the princess. She turned, looking to see if Rocco could translate for her, and when he nodded, her hands began to move.

“Yes. Alastor and I met when he was a young demon and tried to kill me.” Charlie and Rocco’s eyes widened, the hell hound stuttering a little, while Alastor’s twitched. “Obviously, I survived. But because of that day as well as his… later behavior, I’m afraid he is not included in the protection my hounds offer. I was called here because he has apparently been making Rocco and Echo’s jobs more difficult than need be.”

Madame C’s face stayed neutral the entire time her hell hound spoke for her, she refused to lie or let Alastor get away with anything he was attempting. She noticed Alastor’s hands clench at his cane.

“That’s… um.. I am so sorry to hear about that… I can’t kick Alastor out though, he’s our hotelier! It’s thanks to him that we’ve been able to make this place as nice as it is so quickly!” Receiving no response from the shadowed demon, Charlie clapped her hands together. “Weellll, how about we all head inside! My dad will be here any moment and when he leaves, you can come to my office and maybe we can see what we can work out? Please?”

Madame C couldn’t say no to the face Charlie gave her, the pleading eyes and hopeful smile reminded her so much of the fallen angel she had spent the last week with. She gave a sign signaling her agreement. Then signed to Rocco, *Take me somewhere secluded please, I wish to talk without the radio bitch hanging over my shoulder.*

The hell hound gave his boss a smirk before turning to Charlie, “You mind if boss lady and I head up to the second floor? We’ll keep an eye on stuff, just need to give her my reports. Kinda private business shit, ya know?” Charlie gave the two a thumbs up before jogging back into the hotel. Rocco and Madame C turned to where Alastor had been only to see him dissolve into shadows.

*Fucking creep.*

“You said it boss! Haha! C’mon, I know where we can go and talk while keeping an eye on everything.”

Together, hell hound and shadow-cloaked woman headed into the hotel and up the stairs, moving around the balcony overlooking the hotel entryway until they reached a corner. Madame C looked over the railing to see the demons in the hotel moving about to prepare for Lucifer, hanging banners and straightening furniture. A small demon ran around stabbing bugs while giggling maniacally, a cat demon with wings she recognized as an ex-Overlord was stood behind a bar drinking straight from a bottle, a snake demon slithered towards a table with a tray of cookies, and lastly a spider demon she recognized as one Valentino had contracted her hounds to protect was adjusting it’s makeup in a small mirror.

Rocco stood off to Madame C’s side, arms crossed as he eyed the demons below him. “They’re a pretty decent bunch, not too much trouble. Spider is Angel Dust, I’ve worked with him before - keeps trying to make a pass at me. The little one is Nifty, apparently Alastor owns her soul, she cleans and kinda creeps me out. Snake guy is new, Sir Pentious I think, was a spy for Vox but got found out preeetty quickly. Heh poor guy. He was able to rip a bit of Alastor’s coat at one point though so props there. Girl attached to Charlie is her girlfriend, Vaggie. I like her, she kinda reminds me of Carina, very drill sergeant vibe. And then Husker, probably the easiest one to put up with, doesn’t do much except drink. And then there’s Alastor.”

Madame C nodded as each demon was named, taking in everything Rocco told her. They continued to observe as Madame C let her thoughts travel to how she could still pay Charlie the debt she owed for connecting her and Lucifer without keeping her hounds near that radio asshole.

Charlie opened the door to the hotel and Lucifer grabbed her in a big hug. “CHAAARLIE! Oh its so good to see you!”

“Hey da-“ Charlie choked out. “It’s good to see you too, dad.” The two pulled away and the blonde girl cleared her throat. “Welcome! To the Hazbin Hotel!” she exclaimed.

Lucifer leaned down to pet a small cat before two winged goat-like demons flew to him and he pet them as well. Lucifer proceeded to take in the hotel lobby, while it wasn’t in shambles, it was far from ideal. It definitely needed some work. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?!” he exclaimed when he saw the bar.

When Madame C saw Alastor appear next to the king of hell and explain that he thought it added color, she rolled her eyes. And when the radio demon put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder a few moments later to say he was happy to fulfill her bizarre requests, the puzzle pieces snapped together in her mind. Alastor was up to something and he needed the support of Charlie. Knowing the radio demon, it’d be best to ensure someone made sure Charlie was never put in a position to need Alastor’s help.

Pulling away from the edge as Lucifer and Alastor began to argue more, Madame C motioned Rocco to follow her away from the crowd and into a nearby hallway. They both looked around to ensure no one was watching them. *I still have some personal business to finish that may take a few more days. If Charlie agrees, I will take your place here when I’m done. Then I can keep a close eye on that radio jerk and keep you all away from him.*

“I appreciate that boss lady. We don’t mind every one else here. Honestly, if it weren’t for Alastor, this would be the best gig I’d ever had – minus when I’m on rotation for the main office!” Rocco chuckled while shoving his hands in his pant’s pockets.

The two spent a few more minutes catching up on everything that had happened with the hotel before a loud bang rattled the hotel. Darting towards the entrance, they saw the hotel in chaos, the front wall was littered with holes, some of the carpet was on fire and most of the demons from the hotel were running for cover.

Madame C allowed her shadows to transport her and Rocco to the main floor, appearing close to Lucifer and Charlie. The demoness turned to her hell hound, *Make sure everyone is safe please. I’ll see what I can do to start patching the wall and holding the sharks off.* Rocco gave a quick nod before darting off to start rounding up the hotel's sinners.

“It doesn’t matter how well intentioned you are, they’re always going to disappoint you!” Lucifer was smug and as much as she agreed with him to an extent, Madame C was still annoyed he’d rather rub in how awful sinners were than help keep the loan sharks from destroying his daughter’s hotel; they’d definitely have to have a chat about that later.

Nifty was trying to clean up some of the debris that kept falling when Sir Pentious grabbed her as a piece of wall came crashing to the ground and Rocco quickly swept both of them up and away to safety.

Vaggie came out and had a spear ready to protect whomever she could, but Alastor pushed her aside, “No, my dear, leave it to me. It’s time I remind everyone why I’m here.”

“Finally! Took ya long enough.” Mimzy stated from the bar.

“A reminder to all not to mess with the Radio Demon.” The radio frequency hurt Madame C’s ears. Watching Alastor make his way outside to kill the loan sharks, she rolled her eyes at his theatrics. At least he was helping in a way. The woman began to create shadow curtains to cover the holes in the walls and smother the fire around her; it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would help until they could be repaired.

“- How come he can have faith in me but my own father can’t?” Madame C tuned back in to the conversation near her between Charlie and Lucifer. So this was where they stood, Charlie believed sinners were worth saving and helping while Lucifer thought them to be violent psychopaths.

“Dad… just.. help me.” Charlie pleaded.

Madame C looked away from the two, Lucifer had told her a little about being kicked out of Heaven and how he never wanted to lose everything he held dear again. Hearing him sing about it to Charlie nearly brought tears to her eyes. She shook it off, going to stand near everyone else in the lobby as they watched the bonding moment between father and daughter. It was so heart-warming but also broke Madame C’s heart; there was no chance she’d ever have something like this, her mother was long gone and her father was an asshole that only cared about himself.

Soon, Lucifer had left, promising Charlie a meeting with Heaven and wishing her luck. As everyone started to scatter and clean up, Madame C approached Charlie and Vaggie with Rocco at her side. “I know a lot has happened that needs your attention, but could we proceed with our meeting? I have a personal matter to get back to that can’t wait much longer.” The hell hound translated for his boss.

“Oh! Yes, of course, follow us.” Charlie and Vaggie led the two up stairs with Alastor watching from below. Before following the girls around a corner, Madame C turned to look at him and made his radio crackle as a warning, he was not welcome anywhere near this meeting.

Sitting in the office Charlie had brought them to, Madame C and Rocco wasted no time and got right to the point. “I apologize for having to do this, but I must stand by my rules. Unfortunately, the radio demon is not one that is welcome to the services I provide. Not only has he tried to kill me, but he has caused harm and even killed two of my hounds before. I understand he has a place here, though, and would never ask you to do anything you don’t wish to.”

“So then what are we supposed to do? You owe Charlie the protection because she got you that meeting with her dad.” Vaggie was defensive - even though she wasn’t fond of Alastor either, she didn’t want her girlfriend to get screwed out of anything she deserved.

“Yes, I do owe her – quite a lot more than I may ever truly be able to repay – but I do have a solution. My personal matter should be resolved in a couple days, after which I will be available to personally guard this hotel.��� Charlie was confused and began to speak before Madame C began signing again. “I know what I told you before. The matter I met with Lucifer about will soon be resolved and will ensure I no longer need constant guards. Should I feel as though I need one whilst here, though, I will cover their pay.”

Charlie was shocked and then giddy, remembering what Madame C had needed to talk to Lucifer about. “You mean my dad was able to help? That’s amaaazing! “ She clapped her hands, bouncing in her seat. Vaggie stood next to her confused, looking back and forth between Charlie and the demon in front of her.

“Yes, it is amazing. I’m forever grateful. But if those conditions are acceptable, then I really must leave.” Madame C stood from her chair, holding a hand out to Charlie the shake. After settling the agreement, the demon turned towards Rocco to give him a nod before she melted into her shadows and left.

A few moments later she appeared at Lucifer’s front door, unable to go further due to protections he had in place to keep out anyone that wasn’t invited in first. After an imp let her in, the shadows around the Nephilim dropped to reveal an exhausted Caelwen. Trying to shake the tiredness clawing at her eyelids, she made her way to Lucifer’s workshop.

Caelwen entered the room and saw Lucifer on the couch with his head in his hands. She walked over to the couch and plopped down before leaning against the fallen angel. She knew he was worried about his daughter, Heaven surely wouldn’t be kind to the daughter of a fallen angel.

Lucifer lifted his head slightly and turned it to look at Caelwen, “I can’t lose her. I already lost everything I had in Heaven, Lilith left me, I can’t lose Charlie before I even get to know who she is.” His distress was evident to the woman next to him as she grabbed his face to bring him from his slouched position.

*You won’t lose her. Charlie is strong and she has an amazing support system that will help her bounce back if need be. You just need to believe in her and support her in whatever way you can.*

“You’re right, I know that, I just need to accept she’s not a little girl that I can hide away.” Lucifer gave a sad chuckle. Before Caelwen could continue to reassure him, the fallen angel straightened himself up more and snapped his fingers to summon her notebook from that morning. “We have more pressing things to tend to than my worrying! Let’s get this show rolling, I’m ready to see if we got this right.”

Caelwen knew they’d talk more about his depression and anxiety later, she wouldn’t let him continue on this self-destructive path. For now, though, they could focus on finishing the bindrune and spell they had been working towards for a week now.

So for the next two hours, Caelwen and Lucifer sketched bindrunes, making combination after combination to see if any had even a slight effect on the Nephilim. Finally, Caelwen was in the midst of making what had to be the thousandth bindrune when she felt a light tug at her chest. She paused, erased a line and the feeling went away. Added the line back and there was that tug again. She added another rune they had on the list and the tug became a pull that made her drop the pencil and rub at her chest.

Lucifer looked over at the sound of the pencil dropping and noticed Caelwen rubbing at her chest with a pained expression. He grabbed the paper she had been looking at and examined it, looking between it and Caelwen a grin growing on his face. “You did it! We’ve got the last bit we need!”

*Yeah, hurts a bit more than I’d hoped honestly. So maybe we move this party along, please?” the grimace on her face was morphing into teeth grinding together as Lucifer held the paper closer to her.

He pulled back quickly to ease her pain. “Right. Right! Of course, sorry! Let’s get everything sorted; you grab a pillow for your head and I’ll get the book with the incantation. And I’ll leave this here so you can breathe a bit.” Lucifer began to rush around the room, locking the door and rummaging until he found the book they had marked with the spell needed.

When he came back towards the couch, he noticed Caelwen had cleared some space on the floor and laid a pillow down. The woman was sitting on the floor ready to lay down but hesitated. Over 500 years had led to this moment, and she was so nervous. What if it didn’t work? What if it did but it killed her in the process? What if she had misread all of the signs from Lucifer and he kicked her out after all of this was over?

As Lucifer kneeled next to Caelwen, she looked up to him, eyes wide and scared. *Before we do this, I need to tell you something. No matter what happens, I have thoroughly enjoyed this last week. You are an amazing, wonderful man and I can never begin to repay you.* Lucifer tried to speak, but the Nephilim in front of him put a finger to his mouth. *I hope I haven’t misread the signs from you, but if I have, I’m terribly sorry for this and will accept whatever consequences come from it.*

Lucifer was confused for a split second before he felt hands pull at the lapels of his coat and soft lips met his roughly. While he was still processing the moment, Caelwen pushed him away and looked to the side unable to face seeing rejection quite yet. When the pieces finally clicked, Lucifer blinked slowly staring at the woman in front of him that still kept him held at arms length. Carefully, he reached a hand up to cup her jaw and turn her face to him looking into her eyes softly.

Lucifer pulled Caelwen in close, lips almost touching, “You didn’t misread the signs, I promise.” Their lips met again, softer and slower this time but with no less emotion. Lucifer cupped Caelwen’s jaw gently, holding her to him while her hands renewed their grip on his suit.

They parted slightly, noses touching and staring into each other’s eyes. “You are one of the most amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I hope that when you are free of this seal, you’ll stay with me? No matter what happens, I don’t know that I want to spend even a day apart.” Lucifer’s voice was like honey, and Caelwen couldn’t agree fast enough, nodding her head quickly with a brilliant smile taking over her face.

The two kissed, quicker this time, now having a new motive to finish breaking the seal. The sooner they finished this, the sooner they could go back to kissing and exploring this new level of their relationship.

Caelwen laid back on the pillow and ensured Lucifer had access to the center of her chest where the original bindrune sat. The faintest white outline was showing, the seal already reacting to its counterpart being close by. Lucifer pricked one of his fingers before beginning to draw the symbol Caelwen had made on her chest. As he was drawing the last rune, the Nephilim below him was clenching her fists at her sides and gritting her teeth. He hated to see her in pain but knew they couldn’t stop now. Grabbing the book from his kneeling position, Lucifer flipped to the marked page and began reciting the words on the paper.

Just like when Adam and Lute had done this to her all those years ago, a burning sensation enveloped Caelwen, this time it started out centered on her heart before spreading outwards. She let out a silent scream, the fire squeezing at her heart was mind numbing, black spots beginning to creep in at the edges of her vision.

Lucifer’s heart was breaking watching Caelwen struggle, he tried stroking her hair away from her face and rubbing her shoulders to soothe her slightly but it wasn’t working and he couldn’t interfere while the new magic unwound the old.

Caelwen was doing her best to not attempt to claw out her chest, she couldn’t mess up the new bindrune burning its way into her skin. Fuck, she doesn’t remember it being this bad. Slowly, after 10 minutes of agony that had felt like hours, the burning cooled and Caelwen felt like she could finally breathe. Her body ached and her head was spinning. Turning to look at Lucifer, Caelwen managed a weak smile, reaching for him when the dark spots finally claimed her vision and she passed out.

Lucifer stared down at Caelwen, her hair had come loose and was spread around her head, her face relaxed and peaceful. When she still hadn’t opened her eyes after a minute, he began to panic. He leaned down to see if she was still breathing and, after feeling her soft breaths against his face, he pulled back and tried stroking her cheek, shaking her shoulders, pinching her arm, yet nothing worked. Caelwen wouldn’t wake up.

Lucifer gathered the woman in his arms, holding her close as he leaned against the front of the couch. He kept stroking her hair, willing her eyes to open for over an hour before finally falling asleep.

A/N – So, yeah. This feels longer than any chapter so far, but this is a pretty big episode, probably my second favorite of the whole season. Also, to solve the timeline issue, it’s just gonna be Heaven being jerks about meeting with Charlie. Totally NOT a coma… maybe. We’ll see.

I wrote this all in a day, btw so if there’s issues other than the timeline, I’m sorry. I just really wanted to get this out since I won’t be writing much, if at all, until Friday

Tag List

@leximus98

[harleiquina]

I think this resonates a lot mostly with those of us that want/are trying to become artists in any field but society tells us "you need a serious job".

I'm 32 and... hold yourself... I'm making about US$800/per month. For living in Argentina is more than enough, but still feels very little considering all the things I can do and I'm giving up to do my 5 or 6 hours of daily work.

I love writing since I'm 13. I kinda wrote an awfully written book at my 18s. I have over 20 projects going on in my head and anything can spark a new one in any time. But I haven't written any new words in my novel for almost two years now. I did scribbled new ideas here and there by hand on a notepad I keep next to me on my desk while I work... but, by the life of me I can't sit down on my computer for more time that the one that I need. All I do is sitting down in the computer and it is taking a physical toll (yes, lots of weight gain and I'm pretty sure about a low level of depression as well).

All I do is sleeping, eating and working. I don't even have the weekends for myself because on Saturdays I do volunteer work in the Russian Community Club where I learn that language and Sundays are the days where I visit my aunt (she completely isolated herself from the rest of the family and is getting deep down on the wrong side of a religious craze... but that is a different can of worms).

I am the sole breadwinner at home because I live with mom and my other aunt, both above their 50s and in here it is impossible to get hired at that age. Damn it was impossible for me to get hired at my 20s!

I started off working as an Over the Phone Interpreter for 8 hours a day... then switched companies and I was forced to do less hours (6) due to the lack of call volume, both companies paid me US$4/hr so I would make about US$460 to $600 per month -depending on me doing OT or not-. Now I switched again to a company that pays me US$7.50 and in this month I should get about $800 for all the hours I put (they have a system where I get to claim hours from a website where all interpreters claim them at the same time, so I get what I can, usually 5hrs per day).

Mom does say "do as much as you can, anything counts" bacause she got used to work about 10 to 16 hours a day at Walmart and when I complain about my job both her and my aunt are like "but you don't have to commute, you only work a few hours" and such... they can't see that it is killing me but I grind my teeth because we all rely on it. Long before I got this job, about 2 years after my graduation mom told me "you need to find a job, I don't want you to get lazy. Both you and your aunt studied stuff that, yes, its nice but worthless" (my aunt studies Anthropology)... not only I was heartbroken for hearing her say that but... I studied freaking Advertising! I would've studied Cinema... by far I liked it more but thought that Advertising was going to get me a job quicker! And I would've gotten a job quicker if I wasn't taught to respect myself and not to become a boot-licker!

I am tired... yes, even with 6hrs a day of work. Being a glorified bilingual parrot is hard... staring at the screen and take notes about everything is terrible... to lock myself in a room, away from any noise and any human interaction is soul-crushing.

I'd love to write "properly" again, to be able to read a book (last one I've read was back in 2016 when my gandfather was at the hospital), to paint or decorate anything in a day as I used to instead of dragging a project off until "I have time to finish it".

But all of it is "doing nothing" because it doesn't give me money... and the worst of all is that I know that I could do something to make money out of it but I need time to do it and I don't have it and if I do... I'm just too tired.

actually for fusies, let’s make it a poll

original post for context:

[buckets-and-trees]

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

link to ask more questions

Thanks for the ask, Navy!

In this season of my life one of the things I get out of writing is healing part of who I am. I was a creative child and when I was 13 one day in English class my teacher gave us an assignment to write a short story in the computer lab during that hour, and ... I discovered that I liked doing that and my teacher said it was very good. I'd been a voracious reader, but I'd never thought of writing my own stuff before that day.

In high school I played around with writing a little bit, but not too much. In college I did a LOT of fanfic and was on track to be an English teacher by day and budding novelist by night, but then I discovered a totally different career path about halfway through, and I kept writing for fun, but went all in on career stuff after graduating.

I threw myself completely into work for the first 8-9 years of my career, also took time getting a master's degree... Finishing both my degrees depleted my energy for writing for a while, but I was spending a lot of my brain power on work. And I love my job and career. But about a week before the pandemic lockdown, a pretty monumental thing happened at work that made me realize that I had to start living a life outside of work and only give work 40 hours of my life per week, because they didn't care about me to the levels that I had invested in them.

I started reading fanfic again in 2021. I started playing around just a touch, but then last year I decided that I needed to really invest time into my hobbies again just to enrich my own life on a regular basis, not an occasional basis.

I adore the craft of writing. I love building story in my head. I like scribbling away little notes on my phone when a random idea strikes. There's nothing quite like the stories that come up where the idea can consume me and it literally just pours out when I sit down to type. Some of my writing has helped me to work out things I'm thinking about in my personal life. Some of it is total wish fulfillment. Some of it is to challenge myself in new genres or new characters. I like the accomplished feeling of just finishing something. Even though I wrote a lot of stuff in the HP fandom during my college time (mostly one-shots), I never finished any of my WIPs back then (I had 4-5 of them), and so when I finished posting the 12 official parts of The Brooklyn Boys, I got a HUGE amount of satisfaction!

And now that I've jumped back into the community part of the fandom and fanfic writing again, it's also been so enriching to engage with people here - whether it's just the casual comments, baby acquaintance level, new friendships that are in starting stages, or people I feel like I'm genuinely building bonds with that I'll treasure for years... that part is pretty great, too.

My goal this year is to write and complete my first original fiction novel - just like my old HP fandom days, I started a few different original fic projects way back, but never finished. It's going to be my big summer project, and I've been scribbling away some notes on 2-3 big ideas. I think I know which one I want to go all in on first, but I want to have multiple irons in the fire just so I don't feel like I get stuck on anything.

THAT WAS A LOT OF TALKING. But anyway. Abrupt end of post now because we don't need a novel here.

[jewelsunrays]

So, college. Ugh.

One thing I still haven’t adjusted to yet after 7 weeks (!!!) is the sleeping schedule. I have been absolutely so exhausted, trying my damndest to go to bed around 10:30 and wake up at 6am to catch the train. But its so hard to fall asleep.

Train rides in the morning are cold, busy, a beautiful view and a great excuse to read or listen to music. My only qualm is related to my sleeping schedule: I always end up drifting off. Its even worse on the train ride home. I love train rides in the morning but in the afternoon I resent them - at that point the sun is beating down and I’m sweating despite it being autumn and four degrees in a morning and its harder to find a seat and I have more to carry and my feet hurt, and on top of all that I’d be falling asleep on the way home! But ultimately I like catching the train. The thought occurred to me that when I was younger, going on the train was a special treat, symbolic of days out somewhere new or visiting family, an exciting rarity; now, its my daily routine, nothing out of the ordinary.

School itself is… well, its school. I was pretty excited to go back because I missed having a schedule and I liked doing work, funnily enough, I’m not having the same thoughts now. I forgot that in sixth form there’s this huge pressure of a-levels and worrying about leaving and heading to a university or a life of work, and the obligation to study in your own time for like 30 hours a week. 30 hours! Inhumane. On top of getting 8 hours of sleep, how the fuck are we meant to balance our own life? I’ve made a study schedule, but its extremely loose as funnily enough scheduling in the time you’re meant to have fun takes away the fun because there’s this pressure to have fun - you get it.

English Literature is my favourite class. My teacher is Alan (we refer to teachers by their first names, a huge adjustment, I still end up saying ‘sir’ or ‘miss’ lmao) and he’s probably my favourite. Even though he’s mocked a bit and has the sense of humour of a 50 year old man, which he is, I somehow still find him entertaining. Its like everything he does is funny, he’s not even trying to. I missed being able to read and analyse texts. I’ve also found myself putting up my hand far more than I did at GCSE, even finding myself shouting out the answers sometimes, communicating a lot more in group work - a fucking magnum task but I’m doing good nonetheless. Guess there’s been quite a shift in confidence.

Sociology is okay. We have to take so many goddamn notes, whereas in English its mostly annotating the books or filling out worksheets and only writing down the essentials - in Sociology we have to write down basically the entire powerpoint, and in my free time I have to sort through it and rewrite it so my hideous scribbles become somewhat discernible, and on top of that the tests for it are so goddamn hard considering he barely goes into depth! Ironic, considering my sociology teacher is a fucking waffler. He’ll stay on a powerpoint slide for 15 minutes waffling about one sentence of it which ultimately is just rewording the sentence in a more complicated manner, meaning we can’t finish the whole topic he wants to cover in his one lesson, which means we continue it the next lesson which cuts down the next topic we’re doing, meaning right now we’re far fucking behind and I have a essay test next week which I’m pooing myself about because I hardly know half the content. Yikes. I basically use his lessons for napping time.

I despise Art. I signed up for art under the illusion that I would actually get to draw and paint and make things. Instead, we have to cover other topics like Graphics, Photography, Textiles - I just wanna draw, and we’ve only done one lesson of that in the 18 lessons I’ve had. I despise photography, how are we meant to go into depth and write a paragraph about a random photo she made us take of a bottle? Painful shit. Our art teacher missed about two weeks of lessons, meaning we mostly had to spend those two weeks going over past things we’ve done and catching up. But then when she returned, last Tuesday, she set the deadline for our entire sketchbook to be complete and up to standard for the end of the week with extra double page on top of that - 1pm Friday. You’d think there wouldn’t be that much work if she gave us such little time, but trust me when I say the entire class was staying behind in college rushing to finish up everything and complete new work. Ugh.

I was actually intending to switch out of Art to English Language, but due to her absence I couldn’t get my teachers signature on the form so I have to stick with art. I consulted my form teacher last Friday in our one-on-one session (a required thing, but embarrassingly enough when I touched upon mental health support and she mentioned family deaths I teared up, so fucking humiliating) and she said she’d see what she could do, so who knows? I’ll update if I end up transferring.

I’m not sure if I’ve touched upon Enrichment, but every Wednesday after lunch there are no lessons so that all students can do an extracurricular. I chose Exploring Leeds, where every week we go to a different museum or historical place in Leeds and have a look around. My first few weeks, there was a bit of a hiccup - I missed the first session due to a hospital appointment, meaning I missed the second session because I had no information for where to go. However the teacher who runs the Exploring Leeds club is Alan my english teacher! So it was sorted out in no time. Its quite a fun club, except he walks so goddamn fast the club can’t keep up. When we get to the museum we can wander around and do our own thing for a while which is more fun the bigger the museum is. Pretty sure everyone else signed up for an excuse to bunk out of school and leave early considering the museums we’ve gone to, I’ve been the only one looking around at the exhibits. No judgement there.

Lunchtimes are mostly spent eating in a stall in the bathroom. There are so many places to hang out but I’d rather gauge out my own eyes than eat in front of other people so I choose the bathroom so I can lean on the windowsill and nap and be alone, plus it makes me feel like a protagonist from a teen movie. It also saves me from being alone around groups of friends and remembering how utterly alone I am. I also go to the local park and read under a tree for a few hours between lessons when I don’t feel like going to the ILZ (Independent Learning Zone) and studying. Makes me feel really intellectual and academic, a true Rory Gilmore.

Part of why I returned to college was so I could feel like I wasn’t letting down my family, to prove I wasn’t stupid by dropping out of school, to go back and get good grades and confirm everything that’s been said about me was right. Unhealthy, but true. I really expected people to ask about my lessons and give me a chance to prove I’m smart, but all thats been asked is, ‘have you made any friends?’ And fuck if that isn’t a sore point. Over the years I’ve been told and shown my brain and my grades make up for being awkward socially, that it didn’t matter because school was a priority. Thats what I told myself! That it was fine to not have any friends, that it shouldn’t and doesn’t bother me. But I’ve made no friends. Sure I’ve held conversations with people and we joke in class or discuss work easily, and I’m not as awkward or shy as I used to be, but outside of that? I’m completely fucking alone. It feels so humiliating to have to answer ‘yes, I’ve made friends’ when really I’m thinking ‘does it matter if I’ve made friends? I’m fulfilling everything you’ve asked me to do, I’m going to school, I’m being who you want, you’ve never cared if I’ve had friends before, why has your priorities changed? What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with me?’. I just get so angry, because why does it matter? When in reality, I know it doesn’t matter that much. It only hurts me because I know the answer is no, and probably will be for a long time.

My mental health has taken quite the hit. My mum intends to call the doctors and get me some tablets for depression or anxiety or something, like she and my older brother have, because I’ve been doing horrendously in that area. I’ve tried my best to avoid all my problems, and talking about them, and god I really do avoid them, but I’ve still been crying and having breakdowns to the extent where I had to take a day off last week. And two teachers have recommended going to school’s provided therapy, which is nerve-wracking because I don’t think I could possibly utter a single thing out loud without bawling, which, again, is embarrassing. Ugh.

Besides all that, its whatever. Its fine. Its life! Gotta live it. I won’t even go into the cost of living crisis, the money problems, the fact I’ve had to be the one to pay rent and buy food and the pressure I feel. Christmas is coming up and it should all be better soon. I love Christmas. Lets focus on the positives.

[jj-babebank]

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 8

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being…

Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4; Part 5 ; Part 6 ; Part 7

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 8 –

49 days of summer camp left

Caroline sat in her bed, hugging her knees against her chest. Her and JJ had the afternoon off and despite his attempts to lure her into hanging out, and her infatuation with the boy, she’d turned him down, wanting to spend a few hours alone with herself to compose her thoughts. It had been exactly two weeks since the night Madison disappeared. No one had bothered to mess with the campers since then, the bonfire area hadn’t been touched and no dead animals were found in anyone’s suitcase. To the rest of the camp, this seemed like victory; to Caroline – it seemed like the calm before the storm.

During their first day at Camp Willowdale, all of the counselors had been given a Willowdale-branded set of items they’d have to use during their stay. It came with the obvious STAFF t-shirts, sweaters and hats, but it also consisted of other things – such as the thermoses Caroline and JJ were still using to sneak whiskey into their daily routines, and notebooks in which they were advised to plan out their group’s daily schedules. Caroline however had been using her notebook for other purposes. She’d become so obsessed with Madison’s case, that every little thing that happened on camp grounds and seemed even a little out of the ordinary, immediately became a clue to her, which she’d hastily scribble down in her notebook. It had only been two weeks since the disappearance of Madison Hague and Caroline had already filled about a quarter of the pages of her hefty notebook with potential clues and leads. She kept rereading her notes, trying to think of something – anything – that they could do to help them solve the mystery, however nothing was coming to her. Ever since the dress incident, Caroline and her friends hadn’t found anything else that could relate to Madison, though Caroline was glad that none of them had given up on their mission.

Caroline was so deep in her own thoughts, she nearly jumped at the sound of a sudden knock on the door. She quickly closed her notebook and tucked it under her mattress and went to open the door, revealing a panting JJ leaning on the doorframe.

“Hey, C,” he breathed.

“JJ, what’re you doing here? I told you I -”

JJ cut her off by pushing past her and walking into her cabin, “Yeah, yeah, you wanna be alone, I know,” he sat on her bed, taking his snapback off, “but I was thinking… you’ve been so busy with the kids and with the whole Madison thing, and believe me – I really appreciate you for being like that, but -”

Caroline crossed her arms, “Where are you going with this?”

JJ sighed, “You’ve just totally forgotten how to have fun, C,” he said, “The primary reason that we all came here was to have fun and look at you – you barely eat, or sleep, or do anything other than your counselor duties and this whole Madison investigation thing…” JJ sighed again, looking at the hat in his lap and playing with its adjustable strap, “All I’m saying, C, is what if Madison really did go home and you’ve just wasted all this energy on nothing…Thing is,” JJ looked up into her eyes, “I miss you, the old you, and I know that that you’s still somewhere in there, it’s just this whole Madison thing blocking it.” he placed the hat back on his head and stood up, walking towards Caroline, “Hang out with me now,” he said, stopping directly in front of her and lifting her chin up so that she was facing him, “And I promise we’ll think about Madison later,”

Caroline couldn’t really process what was going on. JJ was touching her and standing in such an intimate distance from her, that she could basically feel his breath on her face. For a second she forgot all about Madison, and the dead owl, and the bonfire area. All she could think about was JJ Maybank, who had just told her that he misses her and wants to “hang out with her”. Caroline stood there, lost in thought. What if he was right? What if Madison really did go home and that dress never even belonged to her? What if it was Jenna Kinley’s all along and Sarah had just gotten the perfume wrong? What if JJ really did miss her because he liked her as more than a friend? No, no, that couldn’t be it. But what if –

“Um, Carrie?” JJ’s voice suddenly broke her out of her trans, “So d’you wanna do something together or -”

“Yes!” she said, a little too excitedly for her own taste, of course I’d like to hang out with you, JJ, she thought, “What do you want to do?”

JJ’s face immediately lit up at her words, “Well I was thinking perhaps a picnic?”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, “Don’t picnics require food? We don’t have access to anything unless it’s mealtime,”

“Yeah, but we do have whiskey,” JJ winked with a mischievous look on his face, walking towards the storage room of the girls’ cabin where they still had a few bottles of alcohol left.

Caroline rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless – this was going to finally be her first date with JJ Maybank. Well, sort of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afternoon sun was low in the sky, casting a beautiful orange reflection onto the peaceful water of lake Willowdale. Caroline and JJ had taken a seat on the lakefront, drinking their whiskeys and admiring the sunset, reminiscing the days when they were kids again.

“D’you remember that one summer when Rafe Cameron got food poisoning and ended up barfing on stage at the Will-all-hail banquet?” JJ laughed at the memory.

Caroline frowned, thinking about it, “Beats having Rafe Cameron as your counselor by a mile,”

JJ turned to look at her, eyebrows raised, “Rafe was a counselor here?” his tone almost sounding amused.

Caroline nodded, “Oh yeah,” she smirked, “For the same reason as Sarah – too stuck up for his own good so their dad shipped him over here as a punishment,”

JJ snorted, “I mean that family is pretty far up their own ass,”

“They have a sister too,” said Caroline, “I haven’t seen her around here though, so we at least know that one of them must be doing something right,”

The pair laughed at the thought of their spoiled friend and her older brother.

“Man, I missed this place,” said JJ suddenly, leaning back on his elbows.

His tone sounded different as he looked at the horizon and Caroline could sense that something wasn’t right, “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask -”

“Parents got divorced,” JJ quickly explained, “And unfortunately for me, my dad got custody,” he sighed, “Somehow my mom was deemed ‘incapable’ of taking care of me because she couldn’t financially afford to. Load of bullshit, if you ask me,”

“But my mom -”

“Yeah, they still talk,” said JJ, knowing what Caroline was about to say, “I still see my mom every other weekend, you know, it’s not the end of the world,” he smiled at Caroline reassuringly, “It’s just living with my old man meant working for my cut at home, which also meant summer jobs back in Kildare,”

“So that’s where you’ve been all this time…” whispered Caroline, mostly to herself, however JJ heard her.

“Yeah,” he responded, “Now that I’m old enough to be a counselor here and actually get paid for coming to summer camp I thought why not? Besides, your mom did tip mine off that you’d be here too,” he winked at Caroline, making her blush.

“Yeah, about that,” she said apologetically, “My mom likes to yap a lot, I wouldn’t take most of what she says seriously,”

“Well you are here, aren’t you?” said JJ, his face slightly leaning in towards Caroline’s.

Holy shit, this was it. Caroline was about to kiss JJ Maybank after a decade of fawning over him. Shit, shit, shit, she hadn’t really kissed anyone since that idiot from her class planted one on her at prom. What if she was a bad kisser? What if she’d forgotten how to kiss? As JJ closed his eyes and leaned even closer, Caroline decided to push the doubtful thoughts to the side as she closed her eyes too, leaning in towards him too. Their faces were inches apart, hearts pounding in their chests and, just as their lips were finally about to meet –

“There you are!” Sarah’s loud voice came from the hill behind them, startling them and making them both jump and immediately pull apart and straighten up. John B stumbled after her.

Caroline coughed awkwardly, trying to cover up the shame and embarrassment she was currently feeling, “Sarah… what are you doing here?”

With a knowing smirk on her face, Sarah put both hands on her hips, “Nothing,” she sing-sang, obviously finding the whole situation hilarious, “I’m sure it can wait,” she winked down at Caroline, while John B was waving around frantically behind Sarah at JJ, mouthing the words “DID YOU BONE?!” quite obviously.

JJ groaned as he stood up, helping Caroline up as well, “We’re all yours now, Sarah, what’s up?”

“Well me and John B had the afternoon free as well, so we went out front to his van and you’ll never believe what was taped to the door,”

“Wait, why’d you go to his van in the first place?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “That’s beside the point now, Carrie, look” she shoved a piece of paper in the girl’s hands.

As Caroline unfolded the paper, the group gathered around her to look at what was written on it - 41° 56’ 54.3732” N, 87° 39’ 19.2024” W.

“I have no idea what that means though,” confessed Sarah.

“Looks like coordinates to me,” said JJ.

“Hey, that’s what I said!” gasped John B, “But Sarah didn’t want to believe me,”

“Does anyone know how to read geographical coordinates?” JJ looked at his friends.

“Do I look like Google Maps to you?” asked Sarah.

“You’re right,” Caroline said as an idea sparked in her mind, “We can’t read coordinates, but I know someone who can,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“I’m just saying, Miss P,” JJ spoke confidently once the group was inside Pricilla’s office, “Now’s about the best time to host the traditional yearly treasure hunt,”

Pricilla squinted up at JJ through her pink glasses from where she was sat at her desk, “Keep talking, Maybank,”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that it’s already been two weeks and none of these kids can read a compass yet?” continued JJ, earning a slow nod from the camp director, “Think about it, Miss P – Willowdale ain’t Willowdale without its treasure hunt,”

As JJ spoke, the rest of the group were silently praying behind him that his charismatic way with manipulating will work on Pricilla, giving them an excuse to ask her to decipher the mysterious coordinates they had gotten their hands onto. The old lady leaned back in her old leather chair and looked at JJ skeptically for a while, adding to the already built up tension.

“Give me a few days to map out the course and set up the coordinates,” she finally spoke, causing everyone in the group to silently cheer behind JJ. As they thanked her and turned to leave, she spoke up again, “Oh, and Maybank,” she called, everyone turning to look at her, “No funny business,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Finally some normal camp activities. Thank you for reading so far, I would greatly appreciate you letting me know what you think about the story and the characters xxx

tags: @k-k0129 ; @hayleyy-l ; @marvellover04 ; @dumbasscorn ; @thrown-off-her-rhythm

[kzuhadovey]

promises must be kept

character: timeskip!hinata x f!reader

type: fluff

warnings: -

song recommendations: mrs.magic - strawberry guy

remember to drink your water and eat your food, i love you!!

At the ripe age of 7 years old, you made a promise.

“At 25 years old, if we’re single, we get married.” “25? That’s a little early.” “That’s old enough. I’m sure that when we’re 25 we’ll look old so no one will like us.” “Okay then.” “Okay. It’s on, Y/N.” “You’re stuck with me for life, Shoyo.”

You smiled at yourself as you find the messily scribbled paper you found deep in your drawer. It was a scrawny drawing of you and Hinata, with the words, “Y/N and Shoyo gets married when we’re 25.” The memories rush back, like a wave of nostalgia, and you sigh. If only things were that easy. You and Shoyo have been friends since the literal day you’ve been born. You guys were a package deal- you have Y/N? You get Shoyo aswell. You both told each other everything, from your first kisses to your other friends’ secrets. You supported Shoyo through his volleyball career, and he supported you throughout yours. He was the best friend you could ask for.

Until that day, you moved to Paris. You’re a writer, and you’ve had over 5 million copies of your latest book, Over The Moon. It was a love story like you usually wrote. And even though your writing career was soaring, your own love life hasn’t been so good. Yes, you were an astonishing writer with beautiful facial features, but you’ve never found the right, exact guy. He was always too pushy, or too confident- it was never the right match for you. So ever since, your love life has been incognito. You’ve mostly focused on writing for now- your book was almost finished. You just needed an ending- which you couldn’t exactly grasp. The two main characters, Tracee and Elliot, were definitely in love, but you didn't really know what to do with them. Writer’s block, as it was called.

After around an hour of staring at the blank page on your laptop, you decide to take a walk outside. It was a very beautiful day- the streets were packed with tourists and small shops were blooming with food and objects. You stared at one of the shops- a sweet, enticing Lilly grasping your attention. “Might as well just buy it.” You thought to yourself as you approached the old lady selling them. “Salut! Combien coûtent ces lis?” You said, taking a bouquet in your hands, sniffing them. “Bonjour mon cher. L'un coûte 4 euros.” The lady said as she started packing one for you. “J'en prends deux, s'il vous plaît. Je vous remercie.“ You said as you paid the lady 8 euros.

”Uhm… Pouvez-vous- a-acheter tr-trois, right? trois fleurs, s'il vo- vous plaît?“ A man beside you said. You chuckle. He was obviously not from here- he had broken french. You squinted as you tried to make sense of his sentence. ”Quoi? Je ne comprends pas!“ The lady said as she rolled her eyes, passing you your flowers. You gulped- the man seemed nervous. His cheeks were red and he was looking down of… embarrassment, maybe? ”Il veut trois de ces fleurs.“ You say, pointing to a bouquet of pink-white orchids. He looks at you with wide eyes- why’d you even want to help him? ”Oh. Ces étrangers, ils parlent à peine français.“ The old lady rolled her eyes as she prepared the bouquet. ”C'est 11 euros pour un bouquet.“ The lady said as she shoved the flowers onto the man’s chest lightly. The man seemed to catch on with the numbers as he hurriedly took out his wallet, paying the lady. ”Passez une bonne journée, ma chère.“ You say as you walk away, sniffing your flowers.

“Mademoiselle! S'il vouz plait- wait.” The man said as he rushed in front of you. He had fiery orange hair, and he had tan-ish skin. “Merci. I- I just came here, yesterday.” He said, scratching his neck awkwardly. You would usually just laugh it off and say your welcome since it wasn’t your first shenanigans with tourists. But this man was special- you recognized him. With the way he spoke, and the way he combed through his hair-

“Hinata?”

His eyes glance over to yours as the gears spin in his brain. “Y-Y/N? Ah- I found you!” He shouts, surprised. Your heart is beating so fast- you could barely recognize him. He’s grown taller over the years- and his hair’s turned more orange. “Hinata… Hello.” You mutter out. Your head can’t process this- the last time you saw him- he was literally tiny. Bruises on his arms and a big, large smile on his face. “I missed you so much!” Hinata says as he jumps to wrap you in his embrace. He smelled like citrus- sour and sweet at the same time. You nuzzle your head in his neck- you finally found your best friend. “Shoyo.” You muttered, tears pricking your eyes. Your stomach’s whirling with nervousness and your brain’s spinning with excitement.

“So… you’re a writer now!” Hinata says as the waiter gives him his coffee. You were both sat in a cafe- you’ve decided to catch up with him. “I- I saw your book in Brazil last year. You’re so famous!” You chuckle-  Hinata looks hella excited. “It’s nothing, Hinata. You’re better than me- how are the others, by the way? I saw your game with the Schweden Adlers.” You cock your head to the side curiously. “Y-yes. I’m in a team with Bokuto and Atsumu now.” Hinata chuckles. He’s turned out from a scrawny middle school amateur to a literal professional player. “What are you doing in Paris?” You sip more of your hot chocolate. “I- I wanted to look for you. I heard you were in Paris.” His cheeks turn red- it was amusing, really. So, he came for you. WAIT- HE WAS LOOKING FOR YOU?? “Me? Why?” You widen your eyes in surprise. “Because- I wanted to see you! It’s the first break I’ve had in a heck long time- might aswell take a vacation too, right?” Hinata lets out a weak chuckle. “Woah- so it’s your first time here?” You ask excitedly. Hinata nods and you smile widely. “Yes!- Let’s go around- you have nothing to do, right?” You ask as you stand up. “W-well- yes- but I don’t want to- take your time up-,” Hinata says, chuckling. “No no no! It’s fine! I’m free today anyway.” You smile as you take him outside. “You’re my best friend, Shoyo. I will always make time for you.”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You both slump on your sofa tiredly. “I love Paris so much!” Hinata says, jumping up from the sofa. You chuckle- he was always a hyper boy. “The louvre, and then Notre Dame- It’s so pretty!” Hinata says as he sits back down, sighing heavily. You chuckle softly- he was like a very hyper puppy. You both have been exploring Paris all day, talking and taking pictures. You ended the day with dinner and now you were both slumped on your sofa. You yawn and stretch your arms- before laying your head in Hinata’s lap. He was soft and warm- his thighs were very much like pillows. Hinata tenses up- your head’s in his lap. “Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight?” You ask, staring at him. He tries to relax, leaning back more. “I actually- hoped you would help me find a hotel for me.” Hinata chuckles, scratching his neck. “You can sleep in my place. We’re friends, right?” You say as you yawn again. Hinata’s eyes light up and he smiles. “Thank you!” Hinata smiles and he looks around. You’ve got a pretty tiny apartment, with the view of a flower garden. It was already pretty quiet since it was late at night but you could still hear people talking far down the road. You notice Hinata staring at the balcony view and you chuckle. “It’s pretty, right?” You ask as you made your way towards the balcony.

A wave of fresh air hits your face as you step onto the balcony. The night air is peaceful and calm- just how you liked it. “Hey, I have a question, Y/N!” Hinata says as he takes off his jacket and joins you on the balcony. “Yeah?” You ask as you look at him. You take the time to observe him more- his cheeks are a warm tone of peach and freckles dotted his face. He’s tanner than when you last saw him- he’s also gotten buffer and taller. He looks really pretty under the moonlight. “Y/N? Hello?” Hinata snaps you out of your thoughts and you smile awkwardly. “Sorry- I spaced out.” You chuckle. “It’s- okay,” Hinata says, smiling. “I need to tell you something.”

You nod and eye him more- he’s redder now- he seems nervous. “Y/N. I like you.” He mutters under his breath, looking down. Your heart drops to your stomach and you gulp. Did you hear him right?- “W-what?” He shuts his eyes nervously. “Y/N! I like you a lot! Will you marry me?!” He shouts and the minute the words leave his mouth your eyes widen. Marry?! Your head is spinning with confusion and butterflies were swarming your stomach. Your eyes are looking around frantically in an attempt to see if this was a dream. “Y/N. Do- do you like me back?” Hinata squeaks out, snapping you out of your thoughts. You think again- well, kinda. You’ve always laughed more at his jokes than others, you were touchy with him, and well- he was your first kiss. “Hinata…” You manage to mutter out and fear strikes in Shoyo’s eyes.

“Yes, I like you.” You reply slowly.

Shit shit shit- what was he gonna say- “Thank you for telling me. Don’t lie though- I really like you- and I don’t want to get my heartbroken, o-okay?” Hinata mutters out, scratching his neck. You smile a little, looking at the floor. Hinata takes a deep breath before kneeling down on one knee. “Now… will you… marry me? Please?” Your heart stops- what the hell was he doing? “We made- a pact- right? You’d marry me when you’re 25 and still- single.” Hinata mutters out and you finally remember the letter you found earlier. Wasn’t that a joke? “Will you marry me… please?” Hinata takes your hands in his and kisses them- making you blush.

Your head was very busy. Thoughts were running around and your heart was beating really fast. You didn’t know what to say- you wanted to say yes but it was so sudden, but then again you didn’t want to reject him- he just said he didn’t want to get his heart broken. “…Yes. I’ll marry you, I guess.” You say, chuckling. Hinata looks up at you- his eyes are bright and happy. “OH MY GOD- Y/N I LOVE YOU!” Hinata shouts as he takes you in his arms, wrapping you in a large hug. Your bones feel crushed- he definitely turned stronger. You giggle a little bit, nuzzling your head in his neck. “I love you so much! Y/N’s gonna be my wife!” Hinata says as he shouts across the balcony. “I’M GETTING MARRIED GUYS!!!”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You huff in annoyance before dialing your now husband. “Yes, my wifey?” Hinata says, answering the phone. You chuckle at that silly nickname- he’s been using it ever since you two got married. “Can you pick Emmy up from daycare? They’re closing up early and I have to go to a book signing.” You say as you walk to your car. Ever since you moved to Japan with Hinata, life’s been great. Your newest book has been pretty successful, and you have a daughter with Hinata! “Ah, alright. I’ll pick her up in a sec- practice is almost done.” Hinata says. You can hear Bokuto in the background- he’s screaming and throwing balls around. “HEY SHOYO IS THAT YOUR WIFE?!” Atsumu shouts and you chuckle. “Sorry, wifey- I have to go or else Atsumu will attack you-” Hinata says as he makes a kissing noise. “I love you, bye!” The phone hangs up and you chuckle. This marriage has been a little tough since you both married early- but it’s been alright. Promises had to be kept, after all.

[horansqueen]

Stuck With You - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 : If Only

🡪chapter 1  🡪chapter 2  🡪chapter 3  🡪chapter 4  🡪chapter 5  🡪chapter 6   🡪chapter 7  🡪chapter 8  🡪chapter 9

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

Well every single time I see you I start to feel this way It makes me wonder if I am ever gonna feel this way again. Then I hear myself reply "You've got to hold it in" this time tonight There's a feeling screaming in the back of my head Saying it over and over

If only I had the guts to feel this way if only you'd look at me and want to stay if only I’d take you in my arms and say That I won't go cuz I need you

click here to be on the update list

                                         What woke me up the next day is the sound of someone walking quickly but gently around the room. I felt a shiver cross my whole body, realizing I didn't have any blanket over me. I reached for one and pulled it over me, ready to fall asleep, when I remembered my evening. I had spent a good part of the evening locked in a bathroom with Niall, he drove me and Louis home, we lied down in the same bed but most of all, he had kissed me. I felt my heart flutter as I held my breath, living over the kiss in my head. His body was warm, just like his lips, and I whimpered low as the moment played over and over in my head.

"Shit!" someone whispered after a light sound.

It made me frown and I forced myself to wake up and sit in bed, my palm pressing and rubbing my tired eyes. Niall had kissed me, it was true, but he had also ran away right after, and that meant I had no idea what was going on in his mind, or what I could expect from him this morning. His mood swings, or whatever it was, were driving me insane.

"Niall?"

He turned to me suddenly, his eyes getting slightly bigger when he noticed I was awake, and held his breath. His eyes roamed on me and I immediately felt self-conscious. I probably looked like an idiot, but at the same time, it wasn't the first time he was seeing me in the morning.

"Hey uhm, go back to bed, I didn't want to wake you up." he let out low but a bit nervously. "I just needed to get changed and pick my stuff, I have somewhere to be."

I pressed my lips together, blinking a few times until I was completely awake, and started playing with my fingers.

"Niall, about last night-"

He kept rummaging through his stuff without looking at me. "Look, Devon." he cut me with a sigh. "I don't really have time to deal with that right now."

The first thing that hit me was how hurt I was that he hadn't called me 'Devie', the way he always does. I knew it was mostly to tease me, but it actually grew on me and I ended up liking it. No one else had ever nicknamed me like that before.

"What do you mean, 'deal with it'?"

"I mean I don't have time to talk, okay?" he grabbed his back pack, eyeing his guitar and finally sighing again. "I'll be back late. Or not at all. Hope you have a nice day."

My eyes followed him as he walked until the door, opening it and glancing back at me before leaving. The door closed behind him and that's when I realized I was holding my breath. I emptied my lungs and inhaled again before closing my eyes and sighing. It could have been worse. At least, he had acknowledged me. He had even talked to me, and looked at me, which were two things he didn't really do during the low moments of his mood swings, so that was something, right?

I brought my hand to my mouth, running two of my fingertips on my bottom lip, remembering when he kissed me once again. I never thought a simple kiss could obsess me that much but it did. There was something about Niall that I needed, something that I lusted, something that I wanted... and I couldn't explain it. But I had to face reality, even if admitting it, even to myself, seemed totally horrible. I liked Niall. I really really liked Niall. For the most part, he was the opposite of my ex boyfriend, at least when he was in a good mood, and I chuckled low when I realized it was probably his best quality, which obviously didn't mean that I liked when he'd ignore me. In fact, that was something I really hated, and that reminded me of my ex boyfriend, unfortunately. I had been played so much before and I had promised myself no one would ever use me that way again. There must have been something extremely wrong with me if the men around me would ignore me whenever they didn't feel like it, right? I was not a toy to play with, and I deserved so much better... didn't I?

I sighed again and my eyes fluttered open. Of course, Niall didn't owe me anything, and the fact that I desperately wanted him in my life was going to remain a secret. I just wished he wouldn't pretend nothing had happened, because something had, and clearly, it had meant something. It was not alcohol, since neither of us really drank, and that kiss couldn't be excused by an intoxication. Thinking about it made me feel ecstatic and I cleared my throat, trying to push the thought away.

All the thoughts, questions and memories in my mind kept getting mixed together, confusing me even more. I finally decided to take a quick shower and dress up before leaving my room. I had nothing to do and nowhere to go but I ended up walking around without a specific destination. It was no surprise when I ended up in front of my unfinished painting. I stared at it for a while, blinking as I focused on the navy blue slowly turning into black on my canvas, before finally sitting in front of it. I felt something twist in my stomach at all the feelings reaching me as I looked at my own painting and the pain inside me was sharper than a knife. To me, what was on this canvas was so obvious that I felt naked and somehow, it made me think about Niall and when I saw him write a song on the piano. I had seen him vulnerable in a way too when I spied on him as he composed a song, and even if I still felt guilty about it, it made me see a side of him that I probably would have never seen in any other circumstances. I felt like I connected with him because of that and as my eyes roamed on my panting, I realized perhaps he couldn't connect with me the same way. After all, I hadn't opened up to him and he didn't see any of my art either.

I sat in front of my half-done painting and without thinking, I grabbing my brush and started adding colors. I had done a few nature paintings before, and I did enjoy the techniques and dimensions, but throwing paint at my canvas depending on how I felt had always been my favorite form of art, if only because it was abstract and I didn't have to follow many instructions except those my guts and heart were telling me.

I ended up straining my pants and shirt but it didn't matter. After half an hour, I was done, and my lips parted when I realized I had never worked so fast before. I stared at my creation, immediately hating it even if I knew it would pass, and I closed my eyes. I breathed in an out for about a minute and finally opened my eyes again. My painting was still there and my heart twisted in my chest. It surprised me because I was pretty sure I had thrown all of it on that fucking canvas.

I got up and licked my lips, breathing in deeply and taking a step back. I decided to leave it there and perhaps, at some point, I could show it to Niall. Maybe I would have the guts to show him all the feelings inside me, all the things I had gone through, all the betrayal, rejection and fake love I had received before even knowing him... but it wouldn't be today.

I finally turned around and left, walking very quickly and randomly in the halls. I realized it was not so random when I heard the notes on a piano and a voice that I could recognize anywhere now, especially because it always brought a special kind of pain in my chest.

"Dear Patience If I pour my heart out, can you keep a promise? 'Cause the situation Is like a mountain that's been weighing on my conscience If I'm being honest"

I held my breath and only pushed the air out of my lungs when the notes and the voice stopped. I moved closer to the door and peaked inside, my heart jumping at the sight of Niall, scribbling in a notebook. Once again, he was sitting in front of his piano and when he brought his fingers back over the keys, I held my breath again.

"Hey, can you show your face? Can you see that I'm anxious? Can you hear what I'm saying, saying? Hey, 'cause I fall too fast And I go down blazing Can you hear what I'm saying?"

My eyes fluttered close and I pressed my lips together, the sound of the notes invading me as his voice made my whole body throb. I leaned against the wall but tripped on my feet, letting out a curse word. The piano and the voice stopped at the same time and quickly, I turned around and left. I felt like my heart was about to explode in my chest when I heard a "Hey!" coming from behind. I brought my shoulders up and closer to my cheeks but didn't slow down until he reached me. His hand touched my upper arm gently and swiftly, I turned around, coming face to face with Niall.

"Devie, hey."

My lips curled slightly at the nickname and I licked my lips. "S-Sorry Niall, I didn't want to spy, I just-"

"What are you doing here, Devie?" he cut me, frowning at me as he put his hands on his hips, staring down at me. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing I just, I felt like painting." I explained, shrugging a shoulder. "So I painted. And then I heard a piano and a voice. And it was you. That's all."

"Pretty sure the painting class isn't around here." he pointed out, making me blink a few times.

I started playing with my fingers nervously and swallowed. "I know, I just walked around and ended here."

I glanced around us, noticing there was literally no one around. Everyone was probably doing something else with their sunday, something like relaxing, spending time with friends, or any other hobby normal people have.

"Okay." he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and making me even more anxious.

"I thought there would be like ten of you, singing random songs together whenever you didn't have class." I joked with a chuckle, making him smile.

"This is not a Disney movie, you know." he pointed out, smiling more. "There's a lot of heavy curse words and throwing notebooks and pens around the room violently."

This time, I laughed and shook my head as he took a step closer, letting his arms fall on each sides of him. He frowned a bit and bent down slightly to look at me before bringing one of his hands up again. My heart threatened to get out of my chest when his face was only a few inches away from mine and I couldn't help but think he was about to kiss me again. Instead, I felt my eyes flutter as he brought his thumb right under my eye, on my cheekbone.

"You're got some blue paint here." he whispered before wiping it slowly.

I felt disappointed that I couldn't feel his lips on mine again, but the way he had touched me made me feel a bit dizzy and my lips parted.

"Thank you." I breathed out, staring at him.

"Don't thank me." he chuckled. " I think I made it worse."

I chuckled too and licked my lips before pressing them together. "Look, Niall, about last night."

"Dev, I need to go, okay? I'll see you soon."

"Wait, Niall!" I let out, taking a step closer as he took one back. "I just-"

"Sorry!"

He turned around and started jogging back to where he came from and I sighed a bit too loud. The truth was, I had no idea what I was going to tell him. That I liked the kiss? That I wanted to kiss him again, and maybe even more? That I actually liked him? That simple thought was ridiculous, no... I would have probably ended up telling him that it was ok, that I knew he regretted it, and that we could pretend it never happened. It was not what I felt, but what else could I tell him?

I could have just gone back to talk to him. After all, I knew exactly where he was and what he was doing, but I decided against it. I couldn't force him to talk to me and maybe it was better this way.

I stood motionless just staring in front of me for a while, until I heard my phone. I grabbed it from my pocket, almost dropping it, and noticed all the blue and black paint on my hands. Now I knew how some of it had ended up on my cheek. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but I was happy it did, if only to have this interaction with Niall.

'Dinner. With me. Tonight.'

I smiled fondly at my phone and quickly typed a reply to Louis.

'How about now? I'm starving.'

He just replied with a thumb up emoji and I walked back to my room, smiling when I saw Louis leaned against my door, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed.

"Hey you!" I just said when I stopped in front of him. "How's your head today?

"Bad. My whole body hurts. It feels like I was ran over by a truck. How are you?"

"I didn't really drink." I admitted with a shrug. "You know, in case you needed someone to bring you back home."

"You needed to be sober to ask Niall for a ride?" he asked with a frown, a smirk gracing his lips.

I raised my nose in a grimace and groaned low, making him laugh. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a hug. His hoodie was soft and warm and I just closed my eyes, inhaling deeply his scent. It reminded me of how good Niall smelled last night, in my bed, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. I recognized this feeling, and I hated this feeling.

"So, how about chinese food?"

----

"Wait, he kissed you?"

We had decided to eat in his room, sitting on the floor, and I thought we would put a movie on but we just ended up talking together. I loved talking with Louis, he was pretty much my only friend here anyway. Hell, he was probably the only friend I had in the whole wide world.

"Mmhm, but then you were sick and he brought you back to your room and spent the night with you." I explained, my eyes locked on the noodles in my bowl at I moved my spoon in it.

Letting all that out was embarrassing but at the same time, I felt like Louis was the only one I could share this with. I was also extremely confused by Niall's behavior and by mine, too. What was I doing exactly? Why did I want to get closer to Niall so bad and why did it matter if he was nice to me or not?

"Ouch, sorry about that." he grimaced before I shrugged. It was not Louis' fault and I would never blame him for it. "Wow, I can't believe he kissed you." Louis added in a low tone before putting way too many noodles in his mouth and chewing. "Never thought he'd make a move so early."

"What?" I asked as my heart skipped a few beats. "Why do you say that?"

He stopped chewing and his eyes met mine as I remained motionless, my lips slightly parted. Did I really hear what I thought I heard?

"Dev, do I have to state the obvious?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as I frowned. "Niall likes you!" he added a bit louder before chuckling. "He's liked you since the first day he met you!"

My frown turned into a smile and I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. "Yea, sure, of course." I let out sarcastically, putting my bowl away and leaning against his bed. "Niall Horan likes me."

The thought was so ridiculous that I laughed a bit more and shook my head.

"He does."

"He's been an ass to me since day one. He's rude to me or ignores me. Just because he kissed me one time doesn't mean he actually has feelings for me."

Louis kept quiet and when I turned my head to look at him, he was staring at me with a smirk on his face, noodles in his fork up in mid-air.

"What?"

"You like him." he pointed out, making me suddenly embarrassed as I frowned again.

"No."

"You fookin' like him!" he repeated, bursting into laughter. "You should see your face!"

"Shut up!"

Louis pushed my upper arm slightly, making me tilt slightly as I groaned. I hated that he said that because I hadn't admitted that to myself just yet. Perhaps, the fact that I liked Niall was very obvious but I just hoped it was not. I didn't even know how to deal with that new feeling and I certainly didn't want anyone to try and analyze how I felt.

"You like him!" he added, making me groan low again before I turned and pushed him gently at my turn.

The cup of noodles slipped out of his hand and ended on my thighs. I let out a short yell and held my breath as the warm liquid soaked my pants and the bottom of my shirt.

"Fuck! I'm sorry!" Louis let out before chuckling again. "Sorry, this is way too funny!"

He got up as I remained still, trying not to make it worse. After a few seconds, he handed me a hoodie and I just stared at it. What would Niall say if I walked back to our room wearing Louis' hoodie? I knew it shouldn't bother me but Niall seemed to get pissed whenever I said something about Louis and I felt like it would make things worse between us.

"Thanks Louis, but I'll just go get changed." I just said, getting up, feeling how drenched my pants were. "It's not like my room was very far."

"Okay, I'll pick a movie while waiting for you, if you want."

"Mmhm, good idea."

I walked out of his room and reached mine with only a few steps and without thinking, I turned the knob and opened the door. Niall was there, completely naked, laying on top of the brunette I remember seeing at the party, the one he had his arm around. They both stopped what they were doing when they noticed me and Niall turned his head to look at me. I suddenly felt nauseous and dazed, so much that I had to hold the knob harder and lean my other hand on the door frame.

I could swear I saw guilt in Niall's eyes but I was probably just dreaming.  I blinked a few times, swallowing the tears that threatened to come out. It was so tough to do that it started physically hurting and I just cleared my throat.

"Sorry, I just..."

"Why don't you just get the fuck out?" I heard the brunette yell.

I didn't send her a glance. I just kept looking at Niall, feeling my heart twist so hard in my chest I could swear it had completely broke, and the worse was that he stared back. He was deep inside an other girl and his eyes were on me, and all I could think about was that I hoped my pain was not showing on my face, because I didn't want him to know that I was fucking hurt by the fact that he was shagging an other girl after kissing me less than 24 hours before.

Like an idiot, I waited. I waited for what seemed like an hour, but was probably just about a minute. I waited for him to apologize. I waited for him to tell me it meant nothing, and that it was a mistake. But I waited in vain because after a while, his gaze just dropped, and I decided that I had seen enough. I had waited enough. I didn't know what I was expecting anyway.

"Fuck you."

My voice was low but firm and with those words, I took a step back and closed the door gently.

--

REQUEST

[lastxviolet]

The Assistant - Ch. 3

Description: Summary - Her sixth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be relatively peaceful but after an incident on the Hogwarts express, Violet Wilkes finds herself the newest target of the Weasley twins. This, combined with a dark family secret, and the Triwizard tournament, makes her first few months back more exciting and stressful than every year before.

pairing: George Weasley x Original Female Character

warnings: pg-13. slow burn, eventual smut hehe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218804/chapters/69148695

They'd arrived on a Thursday night so Violet spent the long weekend finalizing her class schedule, helping the occasional lost first year, and being restless for Monday morning.

She'd met with Snape on Saturday to go over her O.W.L scores from last year's test and create her schedule. Their meeting was a pleasant one even though she became quite flustered when he'd asked for her after graduation plans. Truthfully, she wouldn't mind taking over for Snape one day but didn't feel confident in telling him. She also felt a longing to become a potioneer and perhaps create her own recipes at an apothecary someday. None of which she shared because there was nothing worse than being less than certain in Snape's presence.

He took her flimsy answer without protest and congratulated her on receiving almost all Outstanding scores, expressing as much happiness as his stoic disposition would allow about having her in advanced potions this year.

"You'll be requiring the use of my classroom for after-hour practice, I presume," her mentor said with a meaningful look.

He was a master at Occlumens but it always seemed as though he could read minds without it.

"That would be very much appreciated Professor," she confessed. "I wasn't able to practice much over the summer. Muggles don't usually have valerian root or infusion of wormwood lying around."

The side of his mouth twitched. "How do they survive? Draught of the Living Dead is most ambitious," he replied, referring to her aforementioned ingredients.

It was, but so was she. She was hoping to be able to create the entire Advanced Potions textbook from memory by the end of the year. Class stopped challenging her during her fourth year so after-hours practice was her only opportunity to flex her knowledge in any way. She'd tried hard for the past five years to become an expert simply because potions fascinated her. There was no rhyme or reason other than being captivated by the things that harmless ingredients could do when stirred together correctly.

They'd only decided on six classes this year, after all, she'd scored out of many courses being offered and didn't want to waste her time. She glanced down at the scribbled schedule Snape had made for her. Potions on Mondays and Wednesdays, followed by Ancient Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts, respectively. Herbology on Tuesdays, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures on Thursdays. Friday was completely free, as were almost all of her afternoons. Years of packing her schedule and studying deep into the night seemed to have paid off. It was a relief to finally have some free time, even though most of it would be spent studying for the NEWT exams at the end of the year.

She waited for Snape to give her the key to the classroom and raced back to the common room to compare schedules with Sadie.

"You're joking," she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "Only one class together? What am I going to do in Transfiguration with a bunch of Ravenclaws, without you?"

"Maybe you can transform yourself into a kind and patient person," Violet joked, masking her disappointment and dodging her friend's elbow again.

Dark, hooded figures surrounded her, making escape impossible. She pleaded, screamed, begged them to hurt her instead. They laughed before turning their wands on Olivia, who was too far out of reach.

Her nightmare jolted her awake before her alarm could. Cruico, rang in her mind even after her eyes fluttered open. She stared at the wall, getting her bearings straight, listening carefully, ensuring that it was just a dream, and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead before getting dressed for the first day of classes.

The nightmare faded from her mind with each step she and Sadie took on the way up to breakfast. She crossed the floor of the much calmer Great Hall, listening to Sadie rant about whether or not she would have any Durmstrang boys in her class and fiddling with her tie. It was ridiculous to have to wear it, especially now that they could all see the much better uniform alternatives from other schools.

"All I'm saying is that I have had to put up with barely there pretty boys like Malfoy for five years," she huffed. "And I feel as though this school owes me a chance at a great love affair with a real man."

A real man. Yeah right, she thought. Judging by the leers and comments erupting from the Durmstrang table as they walked by, these were just slightly older-looking, rude horny gits.

She grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet off of the Slytherin table and skimmed the Triwizard tournament article on the front page.

How this a school AND government-sanctioned event, she did not know. Muggle schools, as she remembered, called off outdoor sporting events if even one person in the stands saw lightning. Hogwarts, however, participated in an event for seven centuries that had resulted in countless deaths and injuries.

Figures.

"Merlin, people have died?" She muttered.

Sadie shrugged and nodded before recommitting her attention to her oatmeal, and one of the Bulgarian's still looking towards her from across the aisle.

At 8:45, Sadie bid her a dramatic goodbye, blowing her kisses and pretending to cry, the entire walk back out of the Great Hall and into the main hallway. If it had been her first year at Hogwarts, she would've about crumbled at the strange looks from her peers but by now she'd gotten used to it. Sadie was not one for blending into the scenery and although that was what Violet preferred, she let her drag her into the spotlight now and then, like exposure therapy.

She gladly descended back into the dungeons, past her common room door, letting the stone hall guide her to the potions classroom at the end of the corridor. She knew the walk like the back of her hand and could've done it walking backward, with her eyes closed.

The muggy, dimly lit classroom was a welcome sight. Cauldrons, strange beakers, and scattered ingredients had never looked so inviting. The second table to the back had been her seat last year, so she flitted through the familiar room and claimed it again.

As she'd suspected, mostly green and blue ties trickled into the classroom. She didn't mind the company of Ravenclaws in the slightest. Generally speaking, they were able to take things seriously and didn't seem to anger Snape as much as yellow or red ties did. Potions was an incredibly disciplined subject with little instant gratification or convenient use, as their professor liked to remind them, so there was no room for impulse, bravery, or even passion; only precision and memorization.

The second chair at her table squeaked over the stone floor, its shrill noise breaking her away from her internal musings.

Adrian Pucey, a tall dark-haired Slytherin boy, dropped into it and nodded her a polite hello. All things considered, when it came to Slytherin boys, his company wouldn't be particularly minded either. He could be a prick when he was with the rest of their house Quidditch team but alone, he was quiet and harmless. Besides, she knew he'd let her take the lead on all their projects.

Thank god, she thought, there was nothing worse than being stuck with a talkative git for a partner.

Loud laughs from the hallway cut through the comfortable silence. The almost full class let out a low murmur, annoyed at the ruckus. She whipped around and squinted, ready to shoot a death glare at its source. There was a very well-known dungeon etiquette of silence and although she wasn't a fan of most traditions, that one was respectable.

A red and gold tie snapped her out of her hateful trance.

Its owner met her eyes.

George Weasley tugged fellow Gryffindor, Lee Jordan, through the door. Her glare turned into a look of surprise. Surely they were in the wrong classroom. He stopped walking and squinted at her slightly. It took him a few seconds to recognize her face in the dim room and she watched him register her presence. His eyebrows raised in equal parts shock and something that looked like distress. Their eyes lingered until he opened his mouth like he was about to say something and she dug her nails into her palm and spun back around in the hopes that he wouldn't yell across the room.

Four times in one week? She could feel her intestines winding together, twisting her already anxious torso into a bout of nerves. This must be a mistake, she told herself. Snape will come and sort it out, ending whatever scheme they're attempting.

Taking calming breaths, she turned to her table partner, desperate for some way out of the embarrassing scenarios she'd begun spinning in her head.

"How was your summer, Adrian?"

"Oh, it was fine thanks. Actually I —"

The classroom door slammed shut. Professor Snape burst through the room, drawing his wand to shut the curtains and light several candles and a fireplace.

Thank god. She really didn't want to hear about whatever weird, rich, hunting trip Adrian took with his pure-blood family.

Everyone watched as Snape swept aggressively into the room but she could feel Georges's eyes on the back of her head. How was he here? And why was he looking at her?

"Do you two need assistance finding your seats," Snape sneered at the Gryffindors standing awkwardly in the aisle. She glanced over Adrian's ear and watched them rush forward to the table directly across the aisle.

"Not there Mr. Jordan," Snape hissed, looming from his podium with a furious look on his face. "Something tells me you will be incapable of restraining yourself from vexing the rest of us if seated next to Mr. Weasley. Switch with Mr. Pucey."

Violet watched Adrian grimace and collect his things. If he was the least worst Slytherin boy to be stuck with, then she guessed that Lee Jordan was the least worst Gryffindor boy. Especially when considering her other option. Despite never speaking before, she knew he willingly hung out with the twins, almost as much as they hung out with each other. That alone was cause for an evaluation of his mental state, regardless of how harmless he seemed.

She greeted Lee with a smile and a nod. Of course, he returned the small act of congeniality with an otherworldly grin and a friendly nudge to her bicep. She tensed slightly and tried not to grimace. Classic Gryffindor, she thought, give them an inch and they'll take a mile.

Snape, satisfied with the new arrangement, opened his mouth to begin class. She braced herself for his wrath now that he was more tense than normal but his first word was cut off by a loud screech of wood scooting across the stone. She turned to find the culprit and watched George stifle a giggle with his hand, now a good two inches closer to a murderous-looking Adrain. Snape remained silent and glanced back down at his book with an even more sour look on his face.

"In this class," he began. "You will learn skills beyond reading directly from your textbook. Some of you are here because of talent… while others, by dumb luck." He eyed George with disdain.

"To separate the two, we will begin today's lesson by brewing the last potion you learned last year…from memory," he said with a measured, cold voice.

The potion ran through her head as soon as he finished his sentence. She knew it. Of course, she knew it. She watched her classmates look around nervously, and tried not to smile and out herself as a know-it-all. It was always a balancing act. Staying in the good graces of such a harsh man like Snape and keeping up appearances around her fellow students.

"You have an hour — present the potion to me when you have finished," he concluded, taking a seat at his desk.

Lee's stared at her wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. As she had suspected, this was not his best subject. She turned and glared at him, suspending him in panic for one more second before smiling. She thought about winking but didn't want to give him any reason to think that they were friends. Lee squinted at her in a mixture of confusion and realization.

"Bloody hell," he breathed. "You know it, don't you."

His expression relaxed significantly, and he looked as if he'd just won the lottery. She didn't acknowledge him further and calmly reached underneath the table and pulled out a bottle of standard potion water, pouring it into their pewter cauldron with the burner set to low. It would be boiling by the time they got the ingredients so she quickly scribbled them on a piece of parchment and motioned for Lee to follow her. He did so wordlessly, and with more pep in his step than she'd ever seen a person muster.

"Alright Jordan, if you want to help, you can carry these," she said.

Lee gladly carried the powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn from the shelves back to their table, blocking the labels as he passed Adrian and George bickering behind their cauldron.

"Sorry Georgie, no cheating," Lee whispered across the aisle, with a smug smile.

If he wasn't best friends with the Weasley's then it might have been an ok setup. Clearly, he had no clue what he was doing, meaning he would stay out of her way, but also seemed rather eager to follow instructions. Regardless, she was sure he'd find a way to annoy her before the term was up.

She watched George stop fussing and stare daggers into his friend.

"Shove off," he hissed, bristling with agitation.

He'd always been so easygoing in herbology but she guessed that she'd never looked hard enough to see the anger, frustration, and competitiveness bursting within. Probably what happens when you have seven siblings, she thought. Thank god she only had Olivia.

His eyes met hers for a brief moment with the same look he'd had on his face when she'd shrunk her tongue on the train. Evidently, she was in fact, not the only one with whom he had quite a temper.

Lee burst into a fit of laugher and she dropped her eyes back onto the task at hand.

"Quiet," Snape snapped.

She focused back on stirring the first round of powdered moonstone in a clockwise pattern, waiting for the mixture to turn blue and let the repetitive motion ease her mind.

Of course, Snape would choose Draught of Peace to do from memory, she thought, silently giggling to herself. Not only was it complicated, but it required precise stirring patterns for a particular amount of time. Also, its deceptive name wouldn't make anyone suspect that if it was brewed incorrectly, it quite literally turned into an elixir of death. He probably didn't mean it as one, but she appreciated the morbid joke.

"Pass me the hellebore," she whispered to her table partner.

Lee looked a little shocked that she was speaking to him but reached into the pile regardless. He looked around the room and stealthily handed her the small vial. "Ah, yes, the goats spell," he said a little too loudly.

A few of their peers stood up to go to the ingredient cabinet and she bit back a giggle, not wanting to egg her partner on.

She usually wouldn't call herself amused during potions class but Lee looked like he was having the time of his life and it was nearly impossible not to feel somewhat entertained. He exaggerated every movement when she asked him for an ingredient or stirring spoon, and acted accusatory towards anyone who glanced over for too long. He was a lot less intrusive than the twins but his energy level was the same, along with the way that he had to turn every single moment into a joke or a laugh. It looked exhausting but he seemed to be having fun.

After nearly an hour, she added the final ingredients and stirred the solution in a clockwise motion, watching the potion turn turquoise, purple, red, and a myriad of other colors before finally turning a glowing white with the addition of powdered porcupine quills. The potion illuminated the room with shimmering white light for a few seconds before she took it off the burner.

"Merlin's beard," Lee exclaimed under his breath.

Suddenly very aware of the silence in the room, she tried not to think about all the eyes on her, especially the ones she knew were focused on her in contempt.

"Go put those back," she hissed at Lee.

He jumped from his chair, scooped up the ingredients, and skipped down the aisle with probably the biggest shit-eating grin Hogwarts had ever seen, on his face.

While all attention was on him, she quietly ladled the concoction into a vial and scurried up to Snape's desk. He took one glance at the now light turquoise potion and pocketed the bottle seemingly unsurprised to see her although his face had been hidden underneath a book for the entirety of the class.

"Miss Wilkes, can you please tell your peers what potion they should have attempted to make?"

Her stomach sank. The rest of her classmates had stopped fiddling with their cauldrons and were staring at her with annoyed expressions. It was to be expected but that didn't make it hurt any less. Except for Lee, who was exuberantly giving her a thumbs up, and George, who just looked dumbfounded and a little pissed off. Maybe he'd thought she was kidding about potions.

"Draught of Peace," she announced to the cold room.

"Which does what, exactly," Snape said, questioning her further.

She knew he was just trying to make a point but hated being used as the one to make it. The label of know-it-all was no longer a worry, now they would just skip straight to teacher's pet.

"It relieves anxiety and agitation," she said, avoiding eye contact.

"I am sure you will all want a dose before our next lesson," Snape said in a scolding tone. "Please come to class on Wednesday prepared, or your grade and house points will suffer…tremendously," he hesitated and turned towards her. "50 points to you Miss Wilkes for Slytherin —class dismissed."

She squeaked out a quick goodbye to her mentor, before rushing back to her desk. His praise meant the world to her but it also put a target on her back. In past years, it at least took a few periods for the class to realize she was on good terms with him. Now, it just looked like they'd colluded to make everyone else feel stupid.

She jumped a little as Lee cut her off before she could make it past his chair, trapping her in the aisle.

"That was totally brilliant!"

Not in the mood, she thought. His praise meant nothing. He was just thankful to not receive failing marks for the day.

"Move," she hissed, keeping her eyes on the ground.

He stumbled back against the table a bit but turned to let her through before continuing.

"How on earth did you do that…I heard if you get Draught of Peace even the slightest bit wrong, you could kill somebody!"

She shoved her books back into her bag, frantic to leave without further incident but wasn't fast enough as Adrian and George appeared in the aisle.

"Then it's a shame you didn't drink ours," Adrian snarled at her table partner.

Great. Now they could all fight like snakes and lions were meant to. She just wanted to leave and be done with this nightmare class.

"Awh Pucey, you didn't enjoy our romantic time in your dungeon together," George said, swinging an arm around his partner's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Adrian shoved him off like his touch was poison, making the Gryffindors chuckle.

"Thanks a lot, Wilkes," Lee said, dawning the same smile he'd given her at the beginning of class. At least it was a little more warranted now.

She eyed him suspiciously but nodded in acceptance.

"So you really do know your potions," George mused, still looking at her, his eyes gleaming competitively. "I'm surprised."

The look told her straight away that her plan had backfired. Entertaining the twins on the train had not in fact made her immune to interacting with either of them for the rest of the year. She would just have to try something else.

"That makes one of us. You're just as daft as I suspected."

She ignored Lee's cackling and stared at the redhead. She could've just left, or let Adrian deal with him but something flared inside her at the chance to challenge such a smug man. It felt good. It wasn't often she felt equally matched, even now she suspected that George was quite a bit beneath her but the opportunity was too enticing. His anger, although she'd only been privy to it once, was addictive.

It must have felt equally as strong for George because his face got darker again and he leaned closer, ready to retort. His eyes searched hers and she could tell that he was going to make it personal, perhaps even try to be hurtful but Adrian cut him off before he could say anything.

"Shove off Weasley."

Something seemed to snap and George's face switched back to a jovial smile and mischievous eyes.

She stared at him in shock. What was his problem? Adrian was much more infuriating than she was but he barely even seemed to register his words.

"Until next time my love," he cooed at Adrian whilst he and Lee fell into a fit of giggles and pulled each other out of the door.

She and Adrian followed silently after them, walking together out of courtesy, rather than friendship. One of the perks of such a historic house with noble bloodlines was the occasional show of chivalry

They walked down the corridor and back up into the main hall. "Thanks for the 50 points Wilkes," he said, turning to part ways. "Can't believe I'm stuck with a bloody Weasley."

He flashed her a smile which she returned with a polite nod before making her way to her next class, trying to ignore the hustle and bustle of the students around her.

She plopped down in Ancient Runes a few minutes later, still annoyed about the less than peaceful potions class.

Professor Babbling said something about Ancient Runes, best-serving students, as an independent study but she couldn't focus on her open book and unfinished translation. The class was always appreciated seeing as quiet moments throughout the day were rather rare outside of the library. The opportunity to spend several hours with just her thoughts and meaningless translations was a much-needed break from the day-to-day busyness.

George's comment rang in her head. What was his problem? He exuded arrogance without reason. She'd outsmarted him on the train and although she'd technically outsmarted him in potions, it was entirely out of her hands and not meant as an insult to him in any way. Maybe his ego was bruised, even though the only witness on the train was his brother, who she seriously doubted cared about intelligence. Either way, he seemed to be taking their encounters entirely personal.

Whatever it was, he needed to get over it, and quick. Usually, potions class was the only hour and a half in her day where she got to gather her thoughts and methodically apply her knowledge with little disturbance. She would rather deal with the consequences of forcing him to leave her alone, than sacrifice it.

Even after an entire afternoon and evening in the library, George's smug face still taunted her as she went to sleep.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Day 22

Prompt: When you close your own eyes, you can see what your soulmate sees.

Word Count: 1,388

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01,​​​ @spoopy-turtle,​​​ @lizluvscupcakes,​​ @more-fandon-than-friends​, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, sirprplsnail

Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

CW: kidnapping, food, allusions to police, minor injuries.

Virgil closed his eyes tighter, still seeing nothing but black. “Come on, come on! Come on, dear, you can do this!”

Patton sat next to him as he opened his eyes with a sigh. “Nothing?” Patton handed him a bagel from the box nearby.

Virgil shook his head. “I’m not sure where he is and I have no way of tracking him right now. He doesn’t have his phone on him, he can’t see anything. I don’t know if he has a blindfold on, a bag over his head, or if he’s just in a dark room.” Virgil stared down at his bagel. “I don’t know what to do, Pat. I'm scared. For both me and Logan.”

Patton rubbed his back soothingly. “Hey, maybe you can send a message to him! Let him know that you’re thinking about him and are trying to save him!”

Virgil nodded, putting his bagel down in favor of grabbing a pencil and paper to write carefully, “I’m looking for you as hard as I can. I need your help. Is there any way you can get your eyes open, even just for a second? I love you and am thinking of you. I won’t rest until you’re by my side.”

Patton read it over his shoulder and cooed. “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

Virgil stared intently at the page, trying to let Logan get a good look at it. When he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, he closed them. Logan’s eyelashes were fluttering in a desperate attempt to open. “That’s it, come on.” Virgil said soothingly, willing the words or at least the sentiment to go across to his soulmate, the love of his life, his husband who got kidnapped just because Virgil published a book someone disliked a bit too hard.

Logan was able to force his eyelashes open and Virgil smacked the table next to him for a sketchpad and anything to draw with. Virgil sketched whatever Logan saw, not completely processing it. Patton made some noises but Virgil ignored him for now, focused on what Logan was sending him. His pencil flew across the page, trying to render as much as Logan was seeing.

Someone appeared in Logan’s line of sight, wielding what looked like a knife and moving their mouth as if they were shouting, and Logan’s eyes snapped closed. Virgil opened his own eyes to find Patton fluttering around the room. Virgil sighed. “How did you ever become a PI?”

Patton paused, standing as if he were a paused screen. He straightened, putting his hands behind his back as if to prove that he was a professional. “Easily. People trust me and I’m good at my job.”

“When you’re not freaking out like that.” Virgil muttered good-naturedly under his breath. He turned his attention to the drawing in front of him. The landscape was a nondescript room, no identifiable features. The only things of note were that Virgil could not see Logan’s hands in this picture so he had to assume they were tied behind his back and the man in the corner of the picture, the one with the knife.

Patton settled down and looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Have you seen that man before?”

Virgil frowned. “I don’t think so. Do you think you could convince your husband to run it through his database? I can try to blow up the face first.”

Patton nodded. “I can ask Roman to but it would be helpful to have a larger picture of it.”

Virgil nodded, flipping to a clean page and scribbling some messages to Logan first. Most of the messages were telling him he loved him, that Logan did a good job and gave Virgil what he needed, and other little notes like that. He also doodled some hearts and things he knew Logan would love like unicorns standing on the molecular model of water.

Then, he carefully tore out the picture he’d made earlier and set it to the side while he flipped to a new clean page and got to work. He put some headphones on and played some music to distract himself from thoughts of Logan getting tortured. Just to reassure himself, he’d take breaks and close his eyes to check in on his husband. Always, Logan’s eyes were closed.

An hour and a half later, Virgil finished with the drawing. He closed his eyes one more time to check in on Logan and found his eyes open. He seemed to be on his back based on his view of the ceiling and Virgil immediately made a mental note to check for broken wrists. Logan didn’t seem to be in much discomfort but Virgil knew he was good at hiding it from him.

Virgil opened his eyes and passed the drawing off to Patton. “Can we put this in some sort of express way? Even if that means I have to pay for it out of pocket, I don’t care.”

Patton nodded, picking up his phone to call his husband. Virgil closed his eyes again but was met with black, meaning that Logan also had his eyes closed. Virgil pulled the sketchpad closer and picked up where he left off, doodling meaningless drawings. He found an empty space off to the side and wrote, “I got a drawing of the man. We’re gonna run it through a database and see if we can figure out who it is. I don’t want to get your hopes up but I’m coming to you as fast as I can. You’re being so brave, just hold on a little longer, darling. When I get you home, I’m gonna hold you so close you’re gonna be sick of me. I love you so much, starshine.”

Virgil couldn’t sleep that night knowing Logan was out there, maybe being tortured. He kept closing his eyes only to see black. He could faintly see Logan’s eyelids fluttering so knew he was alive at least, probably with a blindfold on. So, he got up and put on a documentary with subtitles, hoping to let Logan watch along with him.

He wasn’t aware it was morning until he got a call from Patton saying that he’d teamed up with another PI and they’d found where the man, Alden Blue, was located. Virgil hurried to get dressed and out the door, more than ready to have his husband within sight again. He met up with Patton and they drove there with Remus, Roman’s PI brother.

Virgil was told he had to stay in the car but he insisted on coming in with them. So, he was given a vest and put in the back of the group. They’d brought in a small team to help and soon had Blue in custody. Virgil ignored the man, who was now sitting against the wall with handcuffs and a bloody lip, and kept going through the rooms.

Soon, he came to a room that looked exactly like the drawing. He found Logan in the corner, on his back with his hands cuffed beneath him, a blindfold covering his eyes. Virgil breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him mostly unharmed. He walked over and saw Logan’s head turn at the noise, shrinking back slightly.

Virgil’s heart broke at the way Logan was trying to curl up as small as he could. He carefully knelt next to him, murmuring, “Let me see you, darling.”

The blindfold slipped off and Logan’s frame shook as he dove into Virgil’s arms, confident in his ability to catch him. Virgil did, carefully picking him up and bringing his husband out of the room. He got both the key to the car and the handcuffs key  from Patton and made his way out to the car. He gently uncuffed him and brought his wrist forward. Kissing the pulse point, he set about working feeling back into them and checking for injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He kept his voice quiet.

Logan shook his head, unable to take his eyes off him. “I have a few bruised ribs but other than that I’m unharmed.”

Virgil nodded, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Logan turned his head so Virgil's lips landed on his own last second. The kiss stayed soft and gentle, the couple’s eyes slipping shut as they shared the tender moment.

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

The beams of sunlight fell down from the wide open sky, placing warm yet gentle kisses on your cheeks and nose. It was rare for the weather to be so nice this time of year. Usually, the bitterness of winter was still holding on. But today, spring was reminding you that it was just around the corner. The heavy, feather-stuffed coat could be kept in the closet, at least for today. The striped flannel was more than enough protection from the slight breeze though you barely noticed its touch. Above you, the sky was a dazzling pastel blue with only a few puffs of white here and there.

You fingers itched down by your side where they kept you steady on the stone table where you sat. It was truly a beautiful day, too beautiful for late February. The lighting was too perfect to be ignored. With enough coverage so the shot wouldn’t be overwhelmed….

“What are you plotting?”

Your eyes snap open and you look down at your best friend. The thought had only just popped into your head. How she could read you so easily was truly terrifying at times. “Nothing,” you lied coolly. “I’m not plotting anything.”

Willa rolled her eyes. “Please. You had that smirk on your face and your fingers were practically dancing on the table. You’re easier to read than you think.”

“(y/n), please tell me you’re not going to go out into the woods again?” Erik looked up from his tablet with pleading eyes. His wire-rimmed glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, giving him a childlike quality. The wind ruffled his sandy hair. He squinted up at you with concern. You were a bit surprised that he’d caught the conversation, given how concentrated he was on his drawing. “You remember what happened last time.”

Of course you did. You were there, weren’t you? Sure, to say that it wasn’t a slightly scary experience would be a lie. But it was something you’d expected to happen eventually considering your outside activities.

A branch knocked loose by the storm from the night before had fallen from its perch, hitting you in the head. While you remained conscious, you were disoriented and had trouble finding your way back to the city. It was nearly dark by the time you made it to your car, but you had no issues driving yourself to the emergency room. The doctor declare you fine beyond the small gash atop your head, however he still preferred someone else to drive you home. Poor Erik nearly had a heart attack when he found you sitting in a hospital bed with dried blood on your face.

“It was a freak accident,” you reassured him. “Not likely to happen again.”

“But the odds still exist,” he argued. You “hmphed” at him. Why was he suddenly spouting statistics at you?

“Not to mention, there have been more wolf sightings,” Willa added, earning a glare from you. Wasn’t she supposed to be on your side?

But you couldn’t stay mad at them for long. Your brain was too logical, too in tune with being able to understand people to ignore their side of the argument. Hopping down from the table, you gave in. “Alright, I get it! You guys are saying no ventures into the trees where I get the most beautiful photographs I’ve ever taken. Noted.”

“You are such a city girl,” Willa said teasingly. It was true, though.

Throughout your childhood, your exposure to nature was the local park with its scarily overweight squirrels and hordes of annoying ants. It was a shock to your family when you chose to go to college outside of the city you knew and loved, electing to attend a smaller campus surrounded by woods and a good two hours from the nearest airport. They didn’t think you would be happy so far away. But you needed the change. You wanted to challenge yourself. Besides, if you hadn’t come out here, you wouldn’t have met Willa or Erik. And they made you very happy indeed.

Swiping up your bag from the bench, you gave Erik a quick kiss goodbye and waved to Willa. “I’ll see you guys after class.”

Willa grimaced. “Actually, I have to work.”

Erik looked equally as guilty. “And I’m meeting with Don to help out the theatre department.”

Perfect. “Don’t worry about it,” you said with feigned of disappointment. “I’ll survive. Maybe take some pictures of downtown. I’ll see you guys later.” With both of them occupied, there was no one check in on you. And you hadn’t exactly promised either of them….

Your light steps from the free evening grew heavier as you came closer to the building that the math-related classes called home.

Truly, this was your own fault. No one should have allowed you to pick your own schedule. The first two and a half years of college were spent taking all the fun, digital art major-related classes you could. The idea that you would eventually have to take the general studies classes was a problem for future you to handle. And that’s what brought you here: almost to the end of the finish line and now you were stuck taking all the subjects that you weren’t good at in order to actually graduate on time next year with your bachelors and qualify to move on to the masters. You hadn’t pinned down exactly what you would focus on when that time came, but it meant staying here, with Erik. And you loathed the idea of being left behind while your friends moved on with their lives.

The main hall inside was buzzing with voices as dozens of students hung about, arguing over answers and whining about what they would do once the weekend had finally arrived. Words mixed in with the clacking of keyboards and the faint scribbling of hurried pencils that didn’t do the homework the night before. It always amazed you how loud this place could be. Your earlier assumptions had made you think that this hall would be a second library, with stressed out students shushing each other so they could concentrate. But really, it felt more like the cafeteria; a social hangout before life interrupted again.

The classroom was mostly full by the time you arrived. Rows of crooked desks filled up two-thirds of the room with just enough space for the GTA to stand at the whiteboard and not be uncomfortable or crowded. Taking your normal seat near the front – which was unsurprisingly empty for the most part - you took out your notebook and pencil, ready jot down the main points of the day’s lesson. Until then, you scroll through the endless stream of social media on your phone.

While you were normally a friendly person, you’d elected at the beginning of the winter semester to stay serious and not give in to any distractions during this period. Because you knew yourself and you knew that you would give in to any temptation to not pay attention during this hour and a half, including talking to the shy freshman girl behind you who looked desperate for some form of friendship.

Two minutes before the class was scheduled to begin, the GTA walked in, a binder tucked under his arm and a messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. None of the conversations slowed down as he unpacked his laptop on the old desk situated in the front. Even as he opened it up and cleared his throat, the whispered chatting went on. It didn’t help that he wasn’t the most authoritative-looking person. He was on the shorter side with a friendly face that made him feel more like a peer than a teacher. Or maybe it was just because he was closer to your age that made you feel that way. It certainly didn’t help that he asked to be called by his first name rather than the typical formal address that you’d been raised with.

Sungkyu smiled brightly as he stood up. The marker made a pop when he uncapped it. “We’ll start on page ninety-nine, chapter four part two.”

That was how he started each class. No hello or good afternoons with mumbled replies. Straight to the lesson without forcing everyone to pretend like they were excited to be there or demanding a more energetic reply. Perhaps that was the one advantage of having a GTA. They knew what nonsense to skip.

An hour and a half later, you were free. Sure, your brain felt a bit like mush from concentrating so hard on the algebra equations, but now you could relax. Since that was your last class of the day, you were back to that lightness, with that spring in your step. The sun had somehow become brighter, even more inviting in the small amount of time you’d spent indoors. How could you ignore the call now?

Back in your dorm, you unloaded your backpack of the unneeded supplies for your venture. Out came the textbooks and binders that were neatly organized. In their place came a water bottle from the mini fridge you and Willa kept between your beds, a couple of granola bars you stashed away for emergencies, and the leather bound sketchpad Erik had given you for your birthday last year that housed all the photo ideas that randomly popped into your head throughout the day. Checking your watch, you assumed that you had a good three or four hours before your absence was discovered. A slight sense of adventure tingled in your chest as you slung your bag over your shoulder and scooped up your camera case from the foot of your bed.

You didn’t look back as you left the dorm and headed for your car. When – because it was a matter of time, not if – Erik and Willa found out, they’d be sure to lecture you until the end of time. But you had a feeling that it would be worth it. What was that famous saying again? Better to ask forgiveness than permission?

As much as you appreciated their concern and understood where they were coming from, the trees were calling out to you, begging to be captured within the lens of your camera. The photographer that lived inside urged you on. If they were really that upset, you’d make them dinner to make up for it.

**

Minseok wasn’t hiding per se. He simply needed a quiet place to grade these papers and with eight other rowdy wolves coming in and out of the house, “quiet” was not exactly an easy thing to find. So… yes, he was sort of hiding in his car in the detached garage. It wouldn’t be for much longer; he only had two or three more assignments to look over and, at this point, he had the answers memorized, meaning he didn’t have to stop and look at the key every five seconds.

Blowing out air, Minseok ran a hand through his black hair as he leaned back. Sometimes he wondered why he took up this position. He didn’t need to. It wasn’t required for him like it was in other masters degrees. But the offer was given and he took it. Maybe he liked the excuse that he was busy so he couldn’t go out with the younger wolves all the time. Unlike the extroverts who knew every restaurant and bar in town like the back of their hands, he preferred it out here, in the woods. Homebody felt like an understatement.

Finally through with grading, he neatly packed the papers away into his bag (divided by clear plastic folders labeled by class) and got out of the car. He left the garage with a smile on his face. Before his feet could hit the first porch step, his name rang out in the field. 

“Minseok!”

He half-laughed, half-sighed as he shook his head. He shouldn’t be surprised that he was discovered the moment he left the safety of the garage.

Running towards him as he turned around were the three goofballs of the pack: Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and Jongdae. Their faces and clothes were covered in mud, making Minseok take a step back.

“Where have you been?” Chanyeol asked when they came to a stop in front of him. Thankfully, they kept their distance. Now Minseok just needed to keep them from going in the house.

“Grading papers,” Minseok replied. He wasn’t going to reveal where he was grading them.

“That sounds boring,” Baekhyun said with an expression that made it seem like he’d smelled something bad. Although, given his current state, that was quiet possible.

Jongdae whipped his hair, sending tiny droplets of muddy water everywhere. Minseok jumped back in an effort to dodge them, which sent the former into a laughing fit.

“Come on, Minseok,” Jongdae waved his hand through the air, still trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard. “You know, wolves aren’t supposed to mind getting dirty.”

“Wolves, no. Humans, yes.” The eldest wolf eyed the three of them. “Well, most humans, anyway.”

Smiling broadly and unbothered, Chanyeol made a move towards the porch.

“No,” Minseok said firmly, blocking the giant’s path. Putting his bag down on the porch he pointed to the side. “Go around and use the hose. You’ll get mud everywhere.”

“We’ll clean it up,” Jongdae whined.

“Not to his standards,” Baekhyun chuckled. Completely unbothered, he followed orders and ran to the back of the house. At first, Chanyeol pouted as well, but then he must have found the fun in the idea because only a few seconds later he was ripping his shirt over his head and running after his best friend.

Jongdae gave one last look of pleading. “Can I please go inside and take a shower?”

Minseok nodded. “After you use the hose.”

“But it’s cold.”

But wolves don’t get cold. Minseok went to pat the poor guy on the back, but then stopped, remembering why he wasn’t letting him inside in the first place. “Rinse off and then we’ll go for a real run to dry you off.”

Jongdae mulled over the offer. Grinning, he said, “Deal!” He was back behind the house in the blink of an eye.

Looking over at his bag, Minseok contemplated his options. He could leave it there and risk one of the guys forgetting the “hands-off” rule or he could take it upstairs to his room, leaving those three alone with the water hose for five minutes. It might not sound like a terrible option, but Minseok had known them long enough to understand that they could find trouble without even looking for it.

He decided to go with the second option anyway, knowing his students’ papers would at least be safe.

Just inside the living room, Sehun was glued to the TV screen, controller in hand. He was pressing down on the buttons with more force than necessary. The maknae would never admit it, but he was too competitive when it came to video games. One time, Minseok walked in on Baekhyun whacking Sehun on the head with the plastic controller because he was getting beat so badly. Thankfully, this time Sehun was alone. If he remembered correctly, Jongin and Yixing were in class while Junmyeon was conducting his office hours. At least the four of them took school seriously.

Minseok didn’t bother greeting Sehun as he made his way through the living room and up the stairs.

His bedroom, pristine and magazine-worthy – was at the end of the hall, near Junmyeon’s master. It was a good thing that Junmyeon’s great-to-however-many-degrees-grandfather thought to build a large farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. The alpha didn’t think that it had ever been quite this full since it had mostly been just his family that occupied the walls in the past, but the foresight to think of a larger pack down the line had been there. Each of the wolves were able to have their own rooms, their own space. Given how sloppy some of the others could be, Minseok was thankful. It hadn’t always been that way, but those days were long gone.

Near the beginning when Minseok first officially joined the pack, he’d tried living alone in his parents’ old place in town. The call to be together, with his brothers, was too great. It was an uncomfortable feeling. To this day he wasn’t sure if it was the wolf’s nature that caused it or simply the fact that, as the eldest, he worried about the younger wolves and preferred to be around where he could keep an eye on them. That meant that the peace and quiet was over, but sacrifices could be made and he was much happier here, anyway.

Placing his bag on the desk, Minseok sighed to himself before heading back downstairs where trouble waited.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Chanyeol, Bakehyun, and Jongdae had turned rinsing off into a full on water war. Pretty much all the mud had been washed away, but that didn’t stop them from stealing the hose from each other and creating new mud in the backyard. They were all without their shirts, showing they were in this for the long hall.

At one point, Jongdae had snuck behind Chanyeol, who currently had possession of the garden hose, and twisted the rubber tube to stop the flow of water. Confused, Chanyeol looked directly in the mouth to discover the reason why. Which meant he fell right into Jongdae’s trap. The troll let go of the hose and the water came rushing back, spraying like a geyser in Chanyeol’s face.

Jongdae fell backwards onto his butt with how hard he was laughing. Chanyeol whipped around to get him back, catching Minseok in the crossfire.

Chanyeol cringed guilty. “Oops. Sorry.”

Minseok chuckled it off. It was just a shirt. “It’s alright. I promised Jongdae a run anyway. It’ll be dry by the time we get back.”

Baekhyun perked up. “A run?”

Minseok nodded. “Yes, you can come, too.” He was already undoing the buttons, folding the shirt and placing it on the ground once it was off. Maybe this run was what he needed. He wasn’t sure what difference it could possibly make. He’d been on hundreds of runs in the past. But something told him to go now. So, once he was ready, he shifted onto all fours and ran after the other wolves who’d already almost reached the tree line.

[silver-embersss]

Broken Horns and Broken Hearts Chapter 8

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Tubbo had collapsed into bed only a few moments before, but the next the boy knew, he was sitting in yet another meeting, with the rest of the cabinet casting him slightly strange looks as they argued.

He internally panicked, scouring his brain for any memories of getting up, or even walking to the meeting - but there was nothing. A quick check of his timetable confirmed that he’d only lost a few hours this time, instead of two whole days, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Where were these sudden gaps in his memory coming from? And why was Quackity staring at him like he’d grown a second head? He shook it off as nothing, perhaps their confrontation last night.

The meeting was followed by another speech, where Schlatt announced a festival to be held in a week, the organising of which was probably going to be delegated to Tubbo on top of the rest. The teen scanned the cityline in boredom, and he was pleasantly surprised to see Wilbur duck behind a parapet. Thankfully, the ex-president couldn’t see him - specifically his horns - from where he stood next to Quackity, but he took a small step back anyway to make sure. Remembering the conversation he had with Tommy yesterday, Tubbo made a mental note to write down the ambush plans they’d discussed earlier and deliver it to the hidden chest.

The gaps in his memory became more frequent as the festival drew near, but Tubbo somehow managed to keep his act together, ignoring the strange looks he got as his horns grew and his patience diminished. The teen also ignored the way his friends talked about him behind his back, denouncing him just because of Schlatt. He simply pretended not to hear the hurt remarks about his grumpiness.

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

Tommy slashed wildly with a stone blade, shards of granite screeching off the wall, and he heard Techno chuckle condescendingly from behind. The teen spun around in irritated tiredness to snap at his older brother.

“At least I’m preparing and not just farming fuckin’ potatoes for three hours straight, dipshit!”

The mocking smile on Techno’s face widened.

“The thing is, Tommy, I don’t need the training - you clearly do.”

“Oh, shut up. Stupid pig bastard.”

Tommy glanced worriedly upwards towards the ravine entrance, where Wilbur stood, currently fucking up his sleep schedule even more. The pig followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow, silently judging his hypocrisy, but Tommy ignored the hint and went back to attempting to massacre the granite wall. L’Mandog could look after Wilbur. They had a war to fight, and if The Blade was going to slack off, well. Then it was down to Tommy to carry their rebellion, wasn’t it?

3 bites of a baked potato later, Techno was back in his farm, both him and Tommy trying their best to pretend each other didn’t exist.

Strangely, it didn’t work.

Eventually, Tommy gave the wall a break and swapped his stone sword out for iron, strapping the bare blade to his hip.

“I’m gonna go check the notebook chest!”

The teen called to Techno, trying not to disturb Wilbur in his moonstruck reverie as he left. Despite his efforts, Tommy felt his brother’s eyes on his back as he crept through the undergrowth.

A few hasty ducks and desperate, pleading headshakes at Niki later, the teen made it to the hillside underneath the prime path that hid the chest. For a split second, he thought he saw a flash of black - Tubbo, maybe? - dash around the corner, but it was gone before he could call out to whoever it was.

A quick glance in ‘the mailbox’ (as Techno called it) revealed the notebook they'd been writing correspondences in, but thrown hastily down on its front, bending the spine. The messy placement was at odds with how it normally lay when it was Tubbo’s turn, but the teen didn’t think much of it other than a muttered curse at the dictator who was keeping his best friend busy doing everything that Schlatt should have been doing.

Tommy skimmed through the rushed explanation of the festival’s weaknesses and snapped a picture of the map Tubbo had painstakingly sketched of the proposed layout. They’d agreed not to use names in the book in case one of them was caught with it, so Tommy just scribbled ‘Thx bitch, hang in there’ on the next page and replaced the book.

For a moment, he entertained the crazy idea of abducting Tubbo so he wouldn’t have to deal with the drunken tyrant, but the thought was soon brushed off due to its impossible nature. Plus, who would be their spy then? Will tried to get in contact with Fundy, but was left on read - the fox was still seemingly bitter about losing the election, even if he did cheat.

After a wistful glance at the half-broken walls, Tommy shoved his communicator back in his pocket, took a step back and fell into a creeper hole.

“Fuck!”

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

It wasn’t long until Tommy came back from the mailbox, but it was 11:30 at night, so Techno once again tried to convince Wilbur to come into the relatively warmer Pogtopia. The ex-president was mumbling a steady stream of nonsense (which was slightly concerning, to say the least) but it wasn’t exactly a strange occurrence.

“Wilbur? Will?”

No response.

“I’ll make you stew if you come in.”

Food usually got the attention of his siblings, especially Tommy, but still Wilbur ignored him. With a sigh, Techno gave up and went back to his farm, giving L’Mandog a pat on the head as he turned away. It wasn’t the best result, but at least he tried, right?

Casting his memory back, the piglin couldn’t remember Tommy eating that day either, so he pulled a cauldron on top of the campfire anyway, letting the water boil while he rummaged in the chests for some steak. Cutting the meat into small cubes, he threw it into the pot alongside some salt and half a clove of chopped garlic. While the pot simmered, Techno sat cross-legged on the ground next to it and got to peeling and chopping some of the potatoes he’d farmed, throwing the peel in a nearby bucket. It didn’t take long for Tommy to come barreling down the narrow stairs, an ecstatic look on his face as he sniffed the air.

“It’ll be ready in a bit.” Techno grunted at him, ignoring his excited yell.

“Do me a favour and get Wilbur.”

The teen raised an eyebrow at him.

“Bet you already tried.”

The piglin glared at him, and Tommy raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay okay, I’m going!”

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

The festival date was set. Planning was under way. All the information had been leaked to the rebels - and yet Tubbo couldn’t help but feel he was missing something important. The feeling was so urgent, he’d checked off lists a million times and gone over everything with Quackity a million-and-one, and it still hadn’t gone away. That, combined with the memory gaps, bleeding horns, and the alcoholic president, weighed on him more heavily than he’d admit. Sleep was a rare luxury, not a necessity. Fundy took every opportunity he had to glare menacingly at him, and even the recently-released Niki kept her distance. It hurt, to be so isolated from these people he’d fought beside for months, but there was no time for moping. There was barely even time for breathing.

“Tubbo! Get me a coffee!”

“Yes, Mr. Schlatt!”

As he sped down the hall, clipboard and a stack of papers in hand, Quackity called him from outside. He set the papers down on the hallway table and stuck his head out the door.

“What?!”

Big Q motioned towards the square, where a large hole sat in the centre of the seating.

“A creeper blew up the square, can you fix it?”

“Yeah, just-” “TUBBO! COFFEE!”

The teen bit his lip and gestured awkwardly over his shoulder.

“I gotta go-”

Without waiting for a response, he dashed back to the small break area where the coffee maker was kept. He set it going before rushing to collect the stack of forms left on the table. While the coffee brewed, he read through as many as he could. This was the usual routine - multitasking, never taking more than a second’s break, trying to stay on Schlatt’s good side - and he’d gotten used to it. As Tubbo grabbed a stack of cobble from his chest, a message buzzed through his communicator. Cobble in one hand, communicator in the other, he typed a reply in snatches, mostly looking forward as he hurried towards the creeper hole.

TommyInnit whispered to you: Tubso

You whispered to TommyInnit: What?

TommyInnit whispered to you: I need you

He sighed angrily.

You whispered to TommyInnit: tf do you want???? m busy!!!!!

TommyInnit whispered to you: is schlatt being a dick again? We need more info on the festical

You whispered to TommyInnit: well im actually doing stuf unlike some ppl!!!!! TommyInnit whispered to you: ???? u good?

You whispered to TommyInnit: lok i dont have the time!! get yor own fuckin informton!

Another message pinged through but Tubbo ignored it, shoving the little black box back in his pocket and continuing with his tasks. The next thing he knew, it was the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window of his room. A slight jolt of nausea accompanied the sudden change in his surroundings, but the teen shrugged it off. It was routine, after all. It was a struggle to pull his pyjama top over his head, as his horns grew bigger every day. Surely they’ll stop growing at some point. The sharp points protruded about a centimetre past his chin, and were a lot thicker than before. Succumbing to his exhaustion, Tubbo let out an ear-shattering yawn and fell into bed, digging his nails into the itchy skin around the base of the horns. A jolt of pain made him yelp, and something warm trickled down his hand.

Blood.

Note to self: Invest in bandages for these things!

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 2

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

A/N: So, I lied. I know I said that I was looking at 10 chapters, but it’s going to be a bit longer than that. I’m thinking 12-15 now! Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Just a reminder that there is a cult featured in this fic. I am in no way endorsing cults, nor am I criticizing anyone’s religion.

CW: kidnapping, food mention, inflicted blindness

~

Patton had always been, in general, a happy person. Sure, he couldn't hear. His father, however, had always taught him that a disability was only an ability with extra letters.

He'd never been allowed to learn how to read lips—it was something he'd read about, but knew he couldn't figure out without a teacher. The one time he'd asked Father, the man had grabbed his hands and pulled him into the hall closet, quickly signing to never bring it up again.

Father had homeschooled Patton—not unusual, everyone in the Haven homeschooled, but what was unusual was that they also home-churched. Everyone else went to chapel, so why couldn't they? Father never explained why.

Patton didn't see much of anyone else. As a child, he played outside with the other children in the Haven, but soon they ignored him in favor of their hearing friends. He saw people at the socials, but Father tended to guide him away from the big conversations, letting him know that what they were talking about wasn't important.

While a little lonely, life was fine. Patton had Father to talk to, books to read, and a house to live in. He had a job washing dishes in the Haven's charity hall, mostly so that he wouldn't be alone while Father was at work. Father worked at the Lab in the center of the Haven, a very prestigious job that made him well-regarded in the community. Life was fine. Everything was fine.

Until one day, it wasn't.

That day, Patton walked home from work to find Father hurriedly packing a bag, his lab coat and tie askew.

That day, as Patton tried to get his father's attention so he could ask what was wrong, the burly perimeter guards of the Haven shoved Patton out of the way.

That day, the last thing Patton saw of his father was a quick flash of his hands as they dragged him away—I love you.

-

Patton had gotten on decently for the past year without Father. He continued to go to work, continued to study the Haven's theology. He missed dinner, where the chairs would both be filled. He missed sitting in Father's room on the bed, looking over a book together. Sometimes, Father would get out the big book of maps that he kept behind the bookcase and show Patton how big the world was.

Now Patton realized how big the world was without his father to fill it.

Patton attended chapel every Sunday now, even though he had no idea what was going on. The prayers were weird, once he realized they were prayers. It was nothing like Father had taught him—there was more pounding on pulpits and angry faces then he was used to. There was much more hand-holding, much more mouth-moving. Sometimes, there was even crying, but Patton didn't know why. Still, every Sunday morning he put on one of Father's many blue ties and walked to the center of the Haven for church, just beside the Lab.

That was how they got him.

-

It started out as a normal Sunday.

The alarm clock on the his pillow vibrated, and Patton gradually woke up. He rolled out of bed and put on his nicest clothes, brushing his teeth soon after. He didn't eat breakfast or lunch on Sundays—no one in the Haven did, that time was reserved for fasting.

It still felt wrong, disturbing the dust in Father's room just to get one of his ties. He supposed he could move the ties, if it bothered him that much, but Patton couldn't bear to move what was lodged so firmly in his memories. Hardly anything in Father's room was touched, and he intended to keep it that way. He had unpacked the suitcase Father had been hurrying to fill on that last day—it was mostly food and some clothes, with a blue pocket-sized notebook that only had nonsense scribbling in it. Patton kept it in his pocket at all times, and now slipped it into his khakis (his only nice pants, he daily wore Haven-made jeans and the khakis were one of his only possessions from outside the perimeter).

Tie tied, Patton started the short walk to church.

Church was as usual, but for some reason more uncomfortable than it had been so far—which was saying something. Now, though, Patton felt as if he was being watched. He shook it off as nonsense. Everyone knew who he was, just as he knew who everybody was. The Haven wasn't very large, after all.

Patton left just before church ended—he often left during the last hymn, it generally got very confusing after that—and discovered that he was not the only one who left early, as a sack was pulled over his head. He struggled for a moment, before the woozy smell of the inside of the sack hit him and he was out like a light.

-

The first thing Patton did when he woke up was cough.

The second thing was take in his surroundings. He was in a small room, plaster walls and concrete floor painted grey. He was on a bed, and there was another pushed up against the wall on his right. A heavy-looking door was set into the wall opposite, with what looked almost like a locked doggy door in the foot of it. Other than the beds, the only break in the monotony of the room was a curtained-off segment with a toilet and sink—if you could call it a sink. It was more of a faucet sticking out of the wall, a shelf with a bar of soap beside it.

That first day, Patton wandered the room, pressing every spot on the wall, knocking on the door, pushing at the flap in the door. Nothing budged. Eventually, he retired to the bed he'd woken up in, the true magnitude of his situation hitting him all at once. He managed to retain composure until he checked his pocket—they had taken Father's notebook. Patton cried for hours.

Every day passed similarly. At first, it took Patton a long time to figure out the day and night schedule, but eventually he trained his body to wake up when the meal that felt most like breakfast was pushed through the flap. He'd been there, wallowing in his boredom, for maybe two weeks when the man was pushed in.

Patton was on the bed when it happened. The people that dragged him in wore masks, but Patton still recognized them from their hair—Brother Gracer, from next door; Brother Hadley, from the charity hall. They left the man curled up on the floor, not even sparing a glance in Patton's direction before leaving once again.

The man was dressed in Outsider clothes—a black hoodie with purple patches, soft-looking jeans. Like Patton, he didn't wear shoes—but Patton had to wonder if they'd been taken from him too, or if he'd never had any in the first place.

While he stared, frozen in shock, the man moved. He carefully stood, wavering dangerously, and on his first step stumbled and hit the floor. Patton winced, but the man got back up and tried again. This time he managed two steps before falling. He wasn't coming anywhere near Patton—he was actually facing the direction of the door—but Patton pressed himself against the wall anyway. Everyone in the Haven had an uneasy fear of Outsiders. They were rash and sinful, and would stop at nothing to drag everyone down with them.

The man seemed to realize that he wasn't able to walk, because now he was crawling, one arm outstretched and shaking. His fingers slammed into the door moments later, and the man recoiled before falling again. This time, he didn't try to get back up, instead curling on his side. It took Patton a couple of minutes to realize the man was sniffling—maybe crying, maybe cold.

Yes, it was an Outsider, but everyone got cold or sad, didn't they? Everyone needed help. A few minutes more, and Patton had gathered enough strength to slip off the bed and pad across the floor. Before he lost his nerve, he reached down and poked the Outsider's shoulder. The man gasped and reared back, preparing to attack, and Patton jumped away. It wouldn't do to make him angry. Still, though, the man looked cold, and that was something Patton knew he could fix.

He debated for a second over whether to get his own blanket or the one off the untouched bed—but that one was coated in dust, and for all Patton knew, the man was allergic to dust, so he grabbed his own.

It was vaguely reminiscent of creeping up behind a lion, Patton thought as he held the blanket out in front of him. The man was slowly relaxing, stretching a bit as he lay his head back on the floor. Before he could change his mind, Patton threw the blanket on top of him.

The man flinched, arms raised, then slowly sat up. He pulled the blanket around himself closer, but shivered still.

Patton was enthralled by this man. He'd only met two Outsiders before, both of them looking to sell things and investigate the life of the Haven. Neither of them had ever attacked him, and this man hadn't so far. Patton sat down opposite him, then reached out a hand to his shoulder.

For the first time, Patton could see his face. Before, he'd been turned away or his strangely long hair had been hiding his features. Now though, Patton could see his trembling lips, his small nose, his pale skin, his cloudy grey eyes.

The man's mouth moved, and his eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over at the slightest provocation. Patton smiled slightly and tapped his own ears. This man, strange as he was, needed a hug, a Patton was the perfect person to give him one.

When Patton pulled back, he tapped his ears again, but the man didn't seem to see. His eyes were focused at a point slightly to the right of Patton, and one arm flailed out, as if trying to find him again. Patton grabbed it, quieting the frantic fingers as his father might have when he was signing too much in public. Could the man see him?

Cautiously, Patton waved his other hand in front of the man's face, watching for any movement from those eyes. Nothing. Now that he looked closer, he noticed that what he'd first thought were bags under his eyes were bruises. The man couldn't see.

Well, they were two peas in a pod, weren't they? Patton tried not to think about how they would communicate as he pulled the man into another hug. They'd figure everything out.

~

Taglist (feel free to ask to be added!): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

the 1

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s relationship throughout the years.

Word count: 2404

Warnings: smut implied, loss of virginity implied, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of abandonment

Previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 26

Year: 2020

Location: Brooklyn, New York

Elizabeth sat on the floor of her mostly empty childhood bedroom. She hasn't been back since Christmas, and that was almost 8 months ago. Her parents called her last month letting her know they are putting the house up for sale, deciding to move to a cottage upstate where it's much quieter.

They had asked if she wanted them to pack up her old bedroom for her, but she told them she would make the trip out to them to spare any storage space the stuff might take up, knowing that only a few special items would need to be kept.

She was sat on the floor going through old photos, the last thing she had to do before she would be done.

Photos from the time she spent here. A pile for which photos she will take back home, and a pile that her parents will keep. She was finally down to the last three photos, all flipped over on their back.

The first one scribbled in her mother's handwriting read:

Steve, Betty, & James. Halloween 2001.

She shakes her head at the nickname, she hasn't been called Betty in almost a decade. The nickname was tarnished, no longer having any special meaning.

She really should've kept it only for family.

She flipped the photo over. There was seven year-old Elizabeth, standing in between a young Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes both had their arms draped around her shoulders. All dressed up as pirates.

She smiled at the memory.

So young. So innocent. So unknowing of what the future held.

She focuses mostly on the boy to her right.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Her first friend here. Her first best friend. Her first kiss.

Her first boyfriend. Her first time having sex. Her first heartbreak.

The boy at the time she didn't know would completely change not only her life, but who she was.

Her first best friend here, she immediately thinks of their first meeting. So kind. Him insisting on teaching her how to ride a bike. Took him two weeks but he did it. That halloween was a memorable one, for both good and bad reasons.

She saw a different side of Bucky after seeing first-hand how his father behaved, due to his alcoholism.

Years later Elizabeth had learned Bucky's father's deepest secret, he had struggled with alcoholism, starting two years before her family moved across the street. It was a secret his family had kept until that Halloween weekend in 2001.

Bucky and his family had spent the weekend with Elizabeth's family, while his uncles came to take his dad away. His father went to go live with Bucky's grandmother and uncles to try and get sober. He returned home after three months, but sadly the disease was a lot stronger than that. His father was fighting a long battle that he was sadly losing.

After a grueling year his mother made the ultimate decision to divorce his father, not wanting to put herself or her children through the dangers once again. Bucky's maternal grandparents moved in to help his now single mother out, seeing as his father was no longer in the picture.

His dad would pop in from time to time never consistent with his visits, after Bucky turned 13 and Becca 10, his dad stopped coming around all together.

His father ended up meeting a woman who helped him get sober, they later on got married and started a new family of their own. Forgetting about the one he had abandoned.

The next photo was dated:

Summer of 2008.

The summer right before they started high school. That was the summer that they all reached peak puberty. Bucky and Steve shot up like weeds, while Elizabeth grew slightly in height. They no longer looked like the pre-pubescent tweens, and officially looked teenagers embarking on their first year of high school.

It was a candid photo of Bucky and Elizabeth at an end of summer party Steve had at his house.

The night of their first kiss together, and Elizabeth's first kiss in general.

It wasn't a cliche kiss that happened because a game of spin the bottle. It was a little more private than that.

Bucky and Elizabeth made their way back home on that cool summer night. The nights had just started to get cooler as the months made the transition from August to September.

"Do you think Steve knows how obvious he's making his crush on Peggy is?" Elizabeth asks breaking the silence of the walk.

"Probably not, I mean the punk is way to oblivious to notice that Peggy also has a crush on him," Bucky laughs, "Plus he's too chicken to even make a move."

"He's just shy," Elizabeth smiles, trying to defend her other best friend.

"Well he isn't going to get the girl by being shy," Bucky says.

"That's what you think," she winks at him.

"What do you know?" he asks her with an accusatory tone.

"That Peggy is going to ask him to go to the movies tomorrow night," Elizabeth recalled from her earlier conversation with Peggy, "That's why she stayed to help cleanup."

"Well then, I stand corrected," he bows his head.

"We should do that," Bucky says after a few moments of silence as they round the corner their houses now in sight.

"Help clean Steve's house?" Elizabeth asked confused.

"No, go to the movies."

"We already do that."

"I meant just us two, no Steve or Rebecca to tag along," Bucky reiterates.

"Like a date," he quietly says looking at his hands.

"Oh," it dawns on Elizabeth.

She felt a blush creep on her cheeks. The cool breeze not helping the warmth spreading throughout her face.

Elizabeth has had a crush on Bucky for as long as she can remember. She just always thought he would never see her in that light. Compared to the girls he's used to liking, she was the polar opposite. Her skin wasn't as pale as their's, she had what her mother called a "Puerto Rican" tan due to where her family lineage is originally from. Her dark curls were always everywhere, even when she had them contained. It's not like she stood out per se, they were surrounded by diversity. She just didn't look like the girls Bucky had a crush on.

"You want to go out on a date, with me?" she hesitantly asks.

"Yeah, I do," he smiles finally looking up to meet her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I like you," he says confused why she would ask that.

"It's okay if you don't want to, I understand," he quickly says when she doesn't say anything. He goes back to looking down and kicking at invisible rocks.

"No," she says grabbing his hand, making them both stop in front of her house, "I do want that."

Bucky looks back up taken back by her response, "Really?"

"Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you," she smiled so big.

"Okay, wow. Cool," Bucky stumbles over his words, his smile matching her's.

"Tomorrow, you and I will go to the movies," he says, squeezing his hand that was still being held by her.

"Perfect."

"Perfect," he whispered staring in her eyes, he glanced down to her lips then back to her eyes.

Elizabeth noticed bucking glancing at her lips, she couldn't help herself and do the same thing.

Bucky grabbed her other hand as he slowly pulled her closer to his body. Leaning his head slightly down. Both closed their eyes and slowly met each other half way, their lips touching in a soft kiss.

What felt like hours, but was only seconds they pulled away slowly. Smiles gracing their faces.

"I'll call you tomorrow for the details," Bucky says.

"Okay. Goodnight," Elizabeth says, still holding onto Bucky's hands.

"Goodnight," Bucky smiles, letting go of her hands before jogging across the street.

Elizabeth had walked up to her porch and turned around to see Bucky turning around from his own porch. She waved and he waved back, their final goodbye for the night.

That was the perfect end to the summer before they had started high school. It was the start of something new and beautiful.

The last photo read:

Winnie and Keith's wedding. 11 Aug. 2010.

She flipped it over to see her and Bucky smiling dressed in formal attire, next to Steve and Peggy.

Bucky's mom did later remarry while they were in high school. She had met a lovely man named Keith, who loved her deeply and her children as if they were his own. He was a good man, someone Bucky really needed in his life.

The photo was taken during the reception. Bright smiles across all of their 16 year old faces.

Both couples had been dating for two years at that point and things were going great.

The smiles showcased how happy they all were. Probably had to do with what they all had planned after the wedding.

They had all convinced their parents into letting them stay at the hotel the reception was at that night, and Bucky would drive them all back home the following day. Their parents had agreed, the only rule is that the girls would stay in a room separately from the boys.

What they know wouldn't hurt them, right?

It was the night they were all planning on losing their virginity. Their hormones were racing, trying to keep it contained as to not draw attention to themselves:

After the wedding they all walked up to the floor they would be staying at. Bucky waited outside the girls' door as Elizabeth gathered her overnight bag, and Steve doing the same from the boys' room.

She walked out with her bag on her shoulder, and a smile on her face.

"Ready?" he asked, grabbing her bag from her shoulder.

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling the nerves start.

Steve walked up to them with his own bag, "See you guys in the morning," he smiled before walking into the room, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth could remember that night clearly. She had done a lot of prep beforehand, being an overachiever she needed to know what she was getting herself into. But nothing could prepare her for what had really happened.

It was filled with a lot of stumbling, awkward touches here and there. Both new to this sex thing. She's not going to lie and said it didn't hurt, she had prepared herself for it hurting. It wasn't the best sex she's had, but it was a moment she wouldn't forget.

After they were done they were cuddled in bed, Elizabeth's head resting on Bucky's chest as he smoothly raked his fingers across her arm.

"11:11, make a wish," Elizabeth whispered, closing her eyes.

"What'd you wish for?" Bucky asked.

"How many times do I have to tell you," she said, turning her body to lean on his chest to come face to face with him, "I can't tell you what I wish for, otherwise it won't come true."

"And how many times do I have to tell you, that that's not true," he teased.

"Well, you have yet to prove me wrong," she smiled.

"Come on, just this once."

"You," she stated, feeling the blush creep on her cheeks.

"What about me?"

"I wished for you," she says, "You and I. For us to have many more moments like this."

"Well doll, your wish is my command," he joked.

"I'm serious Bucky."

"So am I," his tone getting serious, "I love you Betty. It's you and me. Forever."

"Promise?" she held up her pinky.

"Promise." he linked his with hers.

They trusted each other. They were comfortable with each other. They had loved each other. And honestly that's all that mattered.

Now as an adult she realized how important your first time was. It was important that her first time was with Bucky, because she never regretted until she had.

She had really thought Bucky was the one. They would always talk about their futures together. What college they would attend together. When they would get married. Where they would live. How many kids they would have. All of it they had planned together. A future that didn't seem like just a dream.

Sadly with every first love comes every first heartbreak.

Her grandmother once told her that the greatest loves of all time were over now.

She had thought that when her relationship with Bucky had ended.

It truly felt like the end of the world. Like any breakup at that age felt like. She had sworn she would never feel love again. Her mother, Caterina telling her to just wait and see.

Caterina didn't believe in her own mother's words about greatest loves being over, because she was experiencing her's. She promised Elizabeth that she would experience her greatest love story when the time was right.

At the time Elizabeth didn't believe her mother. How could she when her heart was aching.

But like all the times before, her mother would be right.

She looked at  the last three photos in her hands. Without a second thought she placed the Halloween photo in the take pile and the other two in the parents' pile.

A soft knock on the door frame startled her, she looked behind to find the man she has called her's for the last few years. Her greatest love.

She couldn't help the smile that came across her face whenever she would see him.

"Ready?" he asks, a smile upon his face, as he leans up against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, let me just put these back in the box for my parents," she tells him cleaning up the photos and taking the ones she kept for herself.

"Look at this one I found," she says showing him the Halloween photo.

"Oh my gosh, we were so little," he smiles and laughs lightly raising his arm for her to go under, "Gosh I was such a dork."

"Was?" she playfully jokes, wrapping her arm around his waist and snuggling into his side as they head towards the stairs in each other's arms.

"Hey you fell in love with this dork," he jokes back.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way Steve," she smiles leaning up to kiss his lips.

[mirkysconcubinefiction]

Quietly Jaded

Pairing: Omega!Peter/Alpha!Kingpin -- Omega!Peter\Avengers.

Summary: Peter Parker is an Omega masquerading as a Beta. A story of student loans, Avengers wanting Spiderman, Avengers wanting Peter Parker for his Omega status, and Peter just done with them. He doesn't need them - he already has an Alpha. Not the best Alpha but... Well... Fuck.

Tags: Major AU, ABO world, Heats/Ruts, Drug Abuse, Dark Personalities, College Peter, Dubious Consent, more added later.

Part 1

Peter hadn't always been the silent type. It grew on him with time. Losing friends, losing family, it was just easier to not talk than to talk - besides school there wasn't much to talk about.

Not like he could discuss being Spiderman?

With college dreams came college debt and even with grants and scholarships, student loans kept a roof over his head and food in his stomach.

Legally no one had to know his gender. He didn't act like most Omegas or Alphas so many people presumed he was a beta which wasn't a bother.

Betas were a safe median.

If Peter Parker was a Beta then so was Spiderman. 

Hero's or vigilante's of justice weren't titles Omegas carried. Not that they were incapable but mostly the world was a shitty place and he was safer as a Beta than Omega.

No worries of being snatched.

No worries of his degree somehow being mishandled.

No worries of being treated like a damsel in need of a minder. Modern America, as progressive as any first world country, was still archaic in nature to a Omegas ability to cope outside of a Pack or Alphas knot.

.

It started as a curiosity or so that's how Peter saw it as. The Avengers paying attention to him was... Unneeded but the geek in him was intrigued.

First was Tony Stark aka Iron Man who appeared from nowhere one cool Autumn evening. It was a quiet night, the witching hour, a time where nothing really happened in the never quiet city. Sitting on a swing made from his webs he was eating a sandwich from his favorite bodega. The grandmother of seven never took no for an answer after he had saved her life and that of her children several times over the years and had even knitted him a scarf once.

Peter still had that scarf.

Mask pulled up to sit along the ridge of his nose he had sat staring out into the world with a gargoyle above him for company. 

"You're softer than I pegged you for."

His senses didn't tingle and that alone kept him there, hanging like a booger from an impossibly high building, and taking a much deserved bite from his sandwich. A cuban torta with extra adobo. 

"So. Kid. Got a name?"

Silence.

Peter chewed and ignored the floating man whose stare went from curious to frustrated.

"It's rude to not speak when spoken to."

Shoving the last of his food into his mouth Peter wiped the crumbs from his chin, pulled down his mask, and with a thumbs up, ripped an end of his webbed swing.

Plummeting like a bowling ball down... Down... And with a well-aimed (practiced) web swung himself away from sight. Iron Man wouldn't find him, not when Peter knew of a well hidden niche that he could slip into and not be seen or leave a heat signature.

Something that Iron Man was trying to do and Peter was grateful for his sensitive ears. 

.

Next was Captain America. Decked out in his uniform and shield. It was a pretty wicked shield and one that Peter had caught before it could hit the cyborg that was destroying a nameless street of the city. 

Spiderman ignored the shouts of 'traitor' and the arrows that followed him but Peter was more than a flexible arachnid. He was quite familiar with this street. It was the street that housed a shit ton of kids.

Kids that had loved it when he opened the fire hydrants or handed out frozen pops because Peter loved kids.

Not because he was an Omega.

Hell no.

He just loved kids. Kids loved him and thought he was cool.

Using the shield to block the occasional laser blast - because of course lasers - Peter lead the cyborg away. His webs helped to drag the thing and keep it from swinging wildly but Peter was more than bendy, more than, web's, he was strength and endurance. 

While the others had stopped trying to kill him - yes those were kill shots - Peter managed to drag the hefty piece of machinery away. Feet digging into the concrete, one hand fisting a bundle of his webs as the other held close to a shield that left his hand tingly. 

From the sewers a mass of crab like machines took the Avengers attention and as he finally reached an open area of an eight lane street Peter didn't panic when the cyborg finally broke free. The webbing shredding and as he fell from the slack Peter turned and tucked himself behind the shield in time for a powerful beam to hit the Vibranium and drag him backwards from the force.

Even in the face of death he thought it was cool. So cool. 

This wasn't his first time facing a cyborg. A giant imitation of a man decked out in weaponry with a human brain attached in its center. Cyborgs bled green and their eyes were yellow pinpoints of awareness. 

Cool but creepy. 

Very creepy. 

With one hand he sent out a web, latched onto a bus and swung it towards the cyborg that put all its attention to the massive vehicle, using each arm to fire laser beams - still so cool - missing Captain America's shield that hit where the brain sat.

Right side, 8 inches from the center, shield at a 70° angle.

A stream of green blood - plasm - and brain matter coated the streets. The shield hit the ground at a roll and lodged into the side of a brick building. A hair's breadth away from the man who had aimed arrows at his head.

Peter was sad that he missed. Not that he couldn't have killed the man but Spiderman had an image to keep up and he was sure kids were peaking through blinds. 

If Hawkeye stared at the shield with wide-eyed 'what the fuck', Peter accepted that as payment.

Asshole.

Had Peter been... Well... Nicer... He would have thrown himself back into the fray helping the Avengers finish iff the crab robots except Peter wasn't that nice and he wasn't that forgiving.

Padding to the twitching machinery Peter took a moment to web himself a mat on the ground and take apart the cyborg. He was quick, knowing exactly what he wanted and where to find it, bundling it in his own web Peter pulled up the edges and folded the edges together and without a backwards glance he left. 

Fuck the Avengers.

.

As Spiderman Peter had the nasty habit in bumping into random heros with hero size complexes and it got to the point where he just waved at the several who tried to stalk him. 

They weren't as stealthy as they thought they were.

As Peter Parker there was no Avengers just debt and homework. The two worlds very rarely collided. Peter Parker was a nobody... Well... He was on the Deans List and top 12% of the university when it cam to grades even if his attendance was far from stellar. 

Thankfully he had made a friend with a doctor who wrote really nice perfectly excusable doctor notes. 

He had done the math. It would be a 2.8% chance he would catch the eyes of anyone Hero related. Nothing he did as a regular schmoe would catch anyone's attention. 

Really.

Honestly.

Of course he never fraction in his own Parker Luck. 

Fuck his Parker Luck and Fuck his inability to think properly after a near 27 hours of no sleep and a lab all to himself. At 1am he had the building to himself and the key card to prove it! 

At 1 am and still wide-eyed with a brain that wouldn't shut off, Peter shouldn't have been allowed near anything that contained chemicals besides H2O. Instead he had 2 walls dedicated to his scribbles with a rainbow of color - thank you crayola - a pyramid of Styrofoam microwaveable ramen and a teetering tower of hot pocket boxes, and a keurig. 

He had an unlimited - well half a box left - of hot chocolate to tide him over and a bag of mini marshmallows to keep the shakes away as he worked on his thesis. Technically his thesis was typed, edited, and awaiting a last read through BUT he was stuck. 

He was so close to creating the perfect drug that he was vibrating with a desperate energy as his friends - the machines scattered around the room - worked to show him if his calculations were correct or he had to start again. 

Staring at the board Peter needed to distract himself from the whirring and beeping. Headphones in place he jump started his bluetooth and filled the silence with his google playlist set to play his thumbs up.

As it was so late and he was alone in the building Peter didn't think singing along to his playlist would be a big deal. Being an Omega he had few quirks that were... Questionable. 

Omega's were notorious for their allurement beyond their scent. Many were artists, creators of music, rhythm, designers, they were architects, chefs, Omegas were once considered Sirens and Muses of the God's... While Peter could sketch and recite the periodic table backwards and forwards he could sing.

There was something about his voice that could draw attention or put someone to sleep if he so wished. A lullaby sung softly and with his will alone he could hush a colicky baby in minutes much to the relief of the parents he had babysit for. 

Peter blamed Toni Braxton. 

Peter blamed the open windows to the lab.

Peter blamed the chaos that happened less than a mile away from the University and the Hulk that somehow broke away from the group and all but bulldozed himself to the lonely building off set from the rest of the school. 

Peter blamed... Well... He blamed Tony Stark for being a nosy douche of a man and tuning into the voice singing a very heartfelt rendition of un-break my heart. 

Outside the lab Tony watches as the Hulk shifts back to being just Bruce and the man is swaying, "Omega." 

Tony's gaze swivel down to where Bruce is laid out on the ground, dazed. "What?" Had he heard the man right.

"Hulk..." It was difficult to speak so soon after a change but Bruce managed one more word, "Omega." And it didn't take much to put two and two together and Tony moved until he was hovering by the only window lit out of the building.

Hair a mess, clothes askew, ass perched on the a desk, sat a young man staring at a dry erase board and hands moved with each dip and rise. The boy was moving, a dry eraser in one hand and a purple marker in another as he wrote a different scribble. 

Tony was smart, brilliant even, but even if he squinted he couldn't make out what was written. There was numbers with familiar sequences but even JARVIS who had scanned the room was at a lost and suggested the scribbles were a code.

Quiet filled the room and he took that moment to shush his team and soon another song had the younger man humming, head nodding to a beat.

"Send away for a priceless gift One not subtle, one not on the list Send away for a perfect world One not simply, so absurd In these times of doing what you're told

Keep these feelings, no one knows

What ever happened to the young man's heart? Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart..."

Maybe he was just tired but Peter didn't feel the eyes watching him. There was no warning from his spider senses just a quiet madness as he darted through the room. The keurig churning out hot chocolates and fueling the madness of no sleep and rainbow scribbles.

.

A.M. comes with bright lights and failure.

It was tempting to swipe the board clean but Peter was passed out under the only desk that would block out the sun with his lumpy backpack as a pillow.

It's an awkward way to sleep but Peter isn't picky. He's slept in worse conditions, even upside down once, and he had a 48 hour hold on that particular lab. 

The click of the door unlocking doesn't wake him. The tap of heeled leather Oxford shoes doesn't wake him as said shoes stroll through the room until they pause right where he was sleeping. 

Eye's hidden by sunglasses worth more than all the textbooks he was sleeping on, Peter didn't notice the frown on the man's face or the flurry of texts the man was sending before he crouched and woke Peter with a gentle nudge.

What did wake Peter was his alarm on his phone. A far too loud alarm that startled him enough he jerked awake, banging an elbow and his head on the desk. Swearing a storm, mind addled by sleep, Peter fumbled for his phone and dropped it.

Blinking at the pair of dress shoes, Peter held his breadth as he looked up... And up... Into familiar brown eyes. "Who the fuck are you?"

An eyebrow arched, "Everyone knows who I am."

No. Spiderman knew Tony Stark. Peter Parker could care less. "Are you lost?" 

"Nope." The man rocked on his heels, eyes gazing around. "Came to see you. Interesting finding someone like you here of all places."

Peter frowned, "I'm not squatting. I wouldn't be the first person catching a nap trying create something big."

"Big hu?" His hands slipped into his slack pockets, "the hot pockets are shit for your metabolism by the way."

"They're cheap and I'm broke. I'm guessing you wouldn't understand the concept of broke." Peter tried to lay back down and cover his eyes with his arm, legs folded. 

"Yet with no full-time job you somehow have managed to chip away at your student loans. I'm impressed."

A warning buzz settles over him and Peter keeps himself as nonchalant as he can unwilling to give the Alpha the show of panic that he felt. "This is a school of side hustles. Take your pick and leave."

A moment passes in quiet but Tony doesn't leave. Why would he? "Quite rude." The man murmurs, "Is that anyway to..."

"Leave before I call security." Peter interrupts, "You're a strange old man alone in a room with a sleeping student, only perverts stay where they're not wanted."

"Pervert? Pervert!"

"Yes. Pervert." Arm dropping away Peter made a point to glare into the yellowish hue of the glasses. "I've asked you to leave and you refuse. You are not my professor or the janitor. This is my lab and either you picked the lock or bribed someone and I'll be sure to tell the Dean that a creepy old man was allowed into his building to harass a student."

"Actually this is my lab. I own this building." Tony expected some form of recognition instead he got snark. 

"Did you piss on the wall or write your name on it like a petulant child?"

It's not often that Tony finds himself without words but his lips part in surprise before. He lets out a whoosh of air shakes his head. "For an Omega you're a mouthy little thing."

The quiet is met with Peter blinking and Tony waiting. If Peter was smart he would have immediately denied any accusation or stood in righteous anger... Instead the younger man laughed. "That..." Peter folded his hands on his stomach and grinned, "is quite a compliment thank you." Tony frowned and Peter batted his eyelashes. "I'm pretty enough to pass for an Omega has to be the nicest thing anyone has said to me this semester."

"Just this semester?" Tony couldn't help but ask.

"Yep." 

The quiet stretched far longer than was comfortable and Tony sighed, "I have a proposition for you."

"No."

His carefully constructed speech and patience flew out the window as he was interrupted, "No?"

"No." Peter repeated, slowly. "N. O." He spelled out just in case.

"No? You can't tell me no."

"I can, I did, and I don't care." Peter frowned before he unfolded himself and crawled out from under the desk and brushed the dust off his wrinkled two-day old clothes, "Alphas who can't accept a no and argue over the word are a danger to society." Tony wasn't sure how someone that wasn't eye level could make him feel small.

"Do you know who I am?" The kid arched a brow, took a step back, and eyes him from the tips of his shoes to his perfectly coiffed hair. 

"Yes." Tony preened, "You're a misogynistic ass hole who thinks you can walk into my lab unannounced and get away with harassing a student and bringing up genders as if the position of my scent glands justifies your casual dismissal of my constitutional rights. You can't belittle or coerce me into agreeing to anything you have to say based on your purse strings or that you imply ownership on a building that was built from multiple donations. If I was an Omega I have every right to kick you in the nuts and get away with scratching your eyes out."

Tony's lips pressed into a firm irritated line.

"Seeing as I'm not I'll just settle for telling you to get the fuck out of my lab or I will scream murder. I'm a beta on beta kinda guy, so keep your paws off my no-no spots."

It was unexpected, Tony twitched as Peter's hands touched him - shoved him really - right out the door. Tony would never admit to sputtering or tripping over his own feet as he was pushed out the lab and the door firmly locked behind him. 

Confused and slightly embarrassed he adjusted his blazer and nonchalantly walked away. I'm a beta on beta kinda guy... the words are like oil and water, his skin tingles where the younger man's hand roamed, the heat that made that primal part of his brain rear up and whisper Omega.

Spiderman was an escape. 

There was times when he could swing away his worries with dizzying feats of near deaths, the adrenaline rush doing more for him than any drug on the market. 

There was times, like that morning, when he would climb to the highest point, tuck himself into a corner, and hide. He was a millennial with a safe space and it was the safest space to exist in N.Y. 

Just him and the pigeons. 

Times like this he wondered how far he could fall without instinct there to make him survive and carry on another day? 

Curling in on himself he hugged his knees tight to himself and let the tears fall. It wasn't often that he cried but when he did it was usually quiet and when he was alone. No one could see him weak, no one could see him break, no one could... A trumpet broke his depressive silence. An unexpected noise at an impossible height except it was a drone. 

The four propellers were whisper quiet and a white flag waved in the wind.

"Fuck." Summed it up.

A 3d hologram appeared and it was the image of Princes Leia kept him sitting, curious, vs jumping off the ledge. "Hello itsy bittsy spider."

Peter narrowed his eye's and flicked out a web, the drone was quick to swerve.

"You're cordially invited to attend a gathering..." Diving off the building was a better option than listening to Tony Stark invite him to a Tea Party as if they were friends. You don't forgive people who tried to kill you.

Especially if they didn't apologise.

Especially if they stalked you.

.

Since being bitten by a radioactive spider like some weird comic book character, Peter had gone through physical and mental changes. Presenting as an Omega had come later, in fact his first spike of heat happened during a particular difficult battle with none other than Kingpin himself.

It had been a gory fight with Peter having to plow through layers of underlings from normal everyday thugs to enhanced goons that were blood thirsty to get the bounty Kingpin had put on his head.

It was a hefty bounty too.

Just enough where Peter contemplated killing himself off for profit. Kingpin had been his usual boastful self and holding a weapon that was more sci-fi than the usual glock.

They had stood in a penthouse that had made him hyper aware he was dripping blood on the cream-colored carpet and the beautiful statues were judging him. 

Kingpin had a spiel like all super villains and Peter had listened as his mind raked over how he would survive this encounter when the A.C. kicked on. Cool filtered air pushed from the vents, Peter had shivered as it passed over his heated flesh that peaked from the patches of bare skin, it had taken moments for that devilish curl of the Kingpin's lips to unfurl and something else come forth.

Kingpin was a force of human nature. Built by weights and sheer spite. He was aggression, darkness, he was the devil amongst demons, he was a pendulum that swung between the dark side of the underworld and the light side of a family man. 

Most importantly. 

Kingpin was an Alpha. 

An Alpha tied to a Beta and a son.

Dark blue eyes shifted, bleeding red before the massive bulk of a man lifted the gun and fired a single shot. The sizzle of the blast prickled the side of his face as the beam shot over his shoulder and the thump of a body falling told him that his spider senses were off. 

Peter had studied many things but Omegean Biology wasn't one of them. He knew the fundamentals like many but the liquid fire that pooled at the base of his spine and slithered its way up left him standing rigid and an ache between his legs had him hissing.

Peter didn't remember closing his eyes, he didn't hear Kingpin move, his senses were so out-of-order he flinched when a large hand settled atop his head. "Shhh." Peter felt himself tugged into Kingpins girth, it had made him tremble and a whine had escaped him.

Later. Much later. Peter would learn that the man who was intent on killing him had cuddled him on an impossibly massive bed, the Alpha crooning, hands that could bend steel caressed him like a lover would, and for three days helped him through his first heat.

"Call me Wilson. Wilson Fisk."

Awareness had come in doses. The feel of soft cotton against his bare skin, the slick between his thighs, the ache somewhere deep and personal, classical music played in the background drowning the hitch in his chest, relief had been a burst of gratitude as shaky fingers touched the familiar texture of his torn mask.

The stretchy fabric cover his nose an encircled his cheeks and curved along his brow, seemingly glued to his skin. Hair, ears, lips, and chin were as exposed as the rest of him.

Before Peter could sit up a hand came from no where and settled on his chest, thumb and finger digging into his collarbone as he was pushed back into the mattress.

Pliant.

Weak.

A mess. 

Kingpin was a solid presence he hadn't noticed until that moment. Hard naked lines with impossibly wide shoulders and solid smooth skin with not a hint of hair except for two perfectly sculpted eyebrows that furrowed in contemplation. "Where do we go from here Spiderman?" 

It had been when that hand slipped and encircled his throat did Peter feel his body involuntarily move. Legs splaying openly and back arching as a familiar haze of arousal overwhelmed the need to run.

Wilson was an exceptional lover. His first Alpha, his first Knot, Peter never expected to be the Mistress of his arche nemesis, he didn't expect to have heats that were bursts of short frequent intervals, he didn't expect the open invitation to spend it with the Alpha, and he didn't expect the absolute possessiveness of Wilson or just how much control an Alpha like Wilson had over an Omega like Peter. 

"Save the world but you will not interfere with my organization and you will be my most prized possession."

It was a story twisted by biology, twisted by the illogical logic of an emotion one could say was love if you squint, and the reason Spiderman dressed as a different character jumped from the side lines and into traffic, using his strength to flip a car that was chasing the Kingpin. 

It rankled something deep that the urge to protect made him feel like a villain and the mocking laughter of Kingpin getting away hit him hard. 

Fighting The Avengers to keep the Alpha alive had never been part of the plan, watching the chase from a random store front window, hearing the helicopters, it was a spur of the moment decision to steal a face bandana with a skull smile and a pair of polarized wide swimming goggles.

Running fast and hard he didn't use his webs and instead focused on his natural talent and that primal urge to protect the knot-head responsible to keep him blissed out for his next upcoming heat.

Toe to toe with Captain America and the Winter Soldier was... Thrilling. As Spiderman there was an awareness of maintaining his cool but as a stranger with a cheap mask and flannel shirt Peter could catch the Winter shoulders Vibranium arm and force the man to the ground before kicking Captain America's shield and tossing the pompous soldier away like a rag doll.

Peter's body moves on auto pilot as he flips backwards and moves with grace and fluidity as a mess of weaponry aim for him. Between Iron Man's blasts, Hawkeyes arrows, Black Widows bullets, Peter feels like he's dancing on the edge of death and it leaves him feeling hot and aroused. 

Slipping beneath an abandoned truck he sticks his hand on the underside and with hard pushes against the asphalt he uses the truck to plow through what traffic is left and holding his breadth Peter pushed up with his leg and the truck flipped, the roof smashing on the ground and catching sparks.

Letting out a whoop, his flannel shirt wafting in the air he grinned behind the mask as he surfed for a stretch of time before coming to a halt and with Iron Man trailing him Peter ran.

Hard.

Fast.

Through the city.

Forcing the Avengers to chase him and not Kingpin.

More later...

*Part 2*