#my brain suddenly started connecting dots and this is the result

[kaleidoscopic-quiddity]

Does ego bring out the best or the worst in someone? (Alternatively titled; 'Isagi Yoichi, and what it takes to be the best in the world')

difeisheng // Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light - Richard Siken // Landscape With Several Small Fires - Richard Siken // Fury - Yevgeny Yevtushenko // Salvage - Hedgie Choi // BLUELOCK - Kaneshiro Muneyuki & Nomura Yuusuke

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Hello! How are you? Can I lose for a reader with chronic leg pain? After an accident they chose not to amputate their leg and they feel very strong pain and were recommended by doctors to use marijuana and the reader kind of doesn't tell Jason? 🌸🌸🌸🌸

You smoke?

Jason Todd x Reader

wc: 0.6 K summary: Jason finds you smoking weed for medical purposes warnings: use of weeds, fluff, mentions of chronic pain a/n: I'm good, thank you!!! I won't put any pretty pictures in here because I'm afraid of it getting taken down😭😭😭but the divider is really pretty (here): @animatedglittergraphics-n-more, also sorry this came out so short, enjoy!!

After moving in with Jason, you didn‘t think of telling him about the weed. It was necessary, so you feel sure that he won‘t mind if you get to tell him one day. As usual, you build a joint on a peaceful evening, and settle yourself on the balcony. You watch as the busy streets of Gotham fill with hundreds of cars, passing by under your balcony and create a rather relaxing atmosphere. Finally, you take a drag and exhale slowly, waiting for the drug to work.

The first drag feels like a relief, feeling light tingles across your body for a moment before you relax into the chair. You take the moment to calm down and close your eyes, to forget about everything around you. The rough back pain that was lingering on you, slowly fades into the background, finally starting to enjoy the light breeze around you.

It works, after a few more drags, however you jump up at the big figure beside you, not having noticed it before. You act on instinct and throw the lit joint at it, seeing how it falls to the floor after hitting its chest.

Jason keeps his eyes on you behind his mask, staying as still as possible. He doesn‘t know how to react, thousands of thoughts racing through his mind, many of them being possible worst case scenarios.

Before he could think of something to say, you exhale and speak up, realising who it is.

»Jesus, don‘t scare me like that… I was just taking some drags, no need to give me a bad trip.« You mumble out and get off the chair with a low groan, suddenly not as relaxed as before. Jason keeps standing in front of you, finally gathering his thoughts.

»Since when… why do you smoke that?«

You pay attention to him, realising you still haven‘t told him about it. Sure, he knows all about your chronic back pain and how it came to that, but he doesn‘t seem to connect the dots.

So, you try to explain as best as you can, while being high.

»I, uh… you know, my back? The pain? I have to… to smoke because of that. Doctor told me, I have two doctors, one to give advice for the best weed and the other—«

»The best weed? What, is he a drug dealer or something?« Jason interrupts, gently guiding you back inside with his hand on your lower back.

His retort made you chuckle, resulting into a brief giggle-fit before being serious again.

»No… maybe. I don‘t know, but it works. Really, I‘m not joking, I tried to tell you before, but… never came to that.« You shrug and slowly sit down on the couch. He follows suit.

»And how long have you been doing this? How many times a week?«

You think briefly before answering him, easing his nerves at the same time.

»Only when the pain becomes unbereable, like now. So… probably, like, about every three months. Once, I mean.« He nods in thought and sighs out in relief, finally taking his mask off after hearing your reply. Jason was genuinenly afraid this was something you struggled with and was a serious problem he somehow didn‘t take notice of before.

Seems like there‘s nothing to worry about after all. He carries you to bed and gets out of his suit before joining you in bed and caressing his hands over your back soothingly. You end up falling asleep in no time, curled up against his chest and dreaming about whatever your high brain comes up with.

a/n: i think he would be really scared when he catches you smoking, but he is an understanding man, so there's nothing much to worry about. maybe he'll try to sneak in 'healthier' methods whenever you're in pain

←MASTERLIST

[livwritesstuff]

inspired by a reply @gregre369 left on yesterday’s post. this is why i love this site so much bc i had this idea floating aimlessly around my brain for such a long time and then someone says something that just connects all the dots for me so - much thanks <3

tw: brief reference to domestic violence

One of parenthood’s biggest surprises (in Eddie’s opinion, anyway) was how easy talking to his and Steve’s daughters about why his parents aren’t in his life was.

He’d figured it’d be hard to figure out exactly how to explain that his mother's death was the end result of domestic violence caused by his father, who had died in prison twenty years later – but…that about covers it, honestly. Sure, the exact rendition of the story the girls hear varies as they get older, but…it’s pretty straightforward, actually.

Explaining Steve’s situation turned out to be way more complicated for…well, for a lot of reasons, and the fact that his parents are still alive and breathing and choosing to not be around didn't help things at all.

It also didn't help that the girls totally saw Jim and Joyce as Steve’s parents, but it did lead to a conversation that Eddie doesn't think he'll ever forget:

It happened when he was passing through the kitchen to see that Steve was cooking with Moe.

"What're we up to in here?" he asked.

At four years old (she’s actually almost five), Moe has yet to outgrow a phase of picky eating that had started out right around her second birthday. Steve is trying out a new method where he involves Moe in the cooking process in the hopes that she then actually wants to eat the product of her hard work when it’s done. He's seeing varying levels of success.

“We're making burgers,” Moe said, “Poppy’s recipe.”

Eddie looked at Steve skeptically, “Poppy Jim or Poppy Joyce?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m telling Joyce you said that.”

And then he added, “Jim.”

Satisfied, Eddie continued on his way.

“How come you call your dad Jim?” Moe asked.

And that had Eddie pausing in the hallway just out of their line of sight.

“Well, Poppy’s not my dad, sweet pea,” Steve replied.

“Did you not have a dad?”

“I did have a dad – I do. He lives in Indiana with my mom. We don't really talk to each other anymore though."

"Why?"

"When I was younger, I decided that they didn’t take care of me like I needed them too, and Jim and Joyce stepped in to be like my parents instead."

It's not completely accurate, Eddie knows (and he doesn't love the way Steve is shifting culpability away from his parents because that shit was fully on them, but whatever; it's his story and he can tell it however he wants), but just like how their daughters don't have a completely accurate picture of what happened to Eddie's mom either, they know what they need to know for now and they'll hear more down the line.

“But what did your mom and dad do?” Moe asked.

"Well, you know how Daddy and I read to you and play with you and put you to bed and make food for you – it was a little different because I was older and I needed different stuff than that, but…”

Eddie watched Steve look back at their oldest daughter, watched him see the look of confusion in her big brown eyes.

“They didn’t do that?” Moe asked, sounding perplexed.

Steve shook his head, and Moe continued to look at him as if he might suddenly tell her he was joking.

“That’s crazy,” Moe finally said, and Steve let out a laugh.

“It is kinda crazy, isn’t it?” he agreed, “That’s why I love being your dad so much, because it’s actually so easy to want to take care of you. Even though you sometimes like to make it hard on purpose, right?”

“Yeah,” she grinned proudly, “Like when I make you snuggle me more at bedtime and you fall asleep by accident and then the kitchen is messy in the morning."

"Uh-huh," Steve said, poking her in the side so she giggled, "Exactly like that."

"You're a good dad," Moe told him.

"You think?" Steve asked as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"The best dad."

“The best?” he repeated, “Can’t let Daddy hear that.”

“He can hear it.”

[vitaetmorsfilo]

this is a list of moments where natsu is smart (but its also me yapping because i was getting bored waiting for every little instance) (episodes from 49 to 64)

- upon their first encounter with oracion seis, smelled them and alerted gray and everyone

- when carla told them that wendy's dragon, grandeeny, suddenly disappeared seven years ago, started connecting dots in his brain

- when fighting those bro-monkey goons, after getting shot at his back, simply incinerated bullets (were they physical? magical? anyways, cool)

- (look how friendly he is with erigor, meeting him after so long, how erigor is unnerved by it and gray is fucking done with him-)

- interrogated beat up goons about whereabouts of oracion seis' lair (sure, with erza-esque tactic "ask-punch-repeat", but at least he thought of it)

- (also, it must be their temporary place, but oracion seis' lair is so pathetic it's hysterical. we have grimoire heart with their cool-looking flying ship with mechanical heart, we have tartarus with their highly functional flying cube, and these have, like, a cave? where all your guild goon taxes went to? racer's motorcycles?)

- when natsu, wendy and cats reached fallen erza, he was quick to ask for help and point out that no matter what she may have done with jellal, erza really needed her help (well, not really smarts thing, but natsu's quick actions allowed wendy to finally pull herself together)

- when nirvana has activated its magic and sent a black light beam, natsu either sensed or figured that jellal was there were beam of nirvana is

- (okay, nirvana thingamagick has my respect for having nothing to do with zeref and co. but what was the point of its first stage, where people who are usually on one side of morals and are on the gray side for this moment, get their side of morals switched? sherry, who was grief stricken switched to attacking gray, wendy was nearing the switch with her guilt over jellal situation, but hibiki knocked her out, and hoteye was reminded of his time with his brother when fighting jura and he switched from being money-obsessed to being pacifist. very mixed bag of results if you ask me. hibiki later explained that the switching is controllable in final phase, but in the first one? is it more like a side effect of first stage for activating nirvana? prolly-)

- (lucy happy and carla saying that in case of switching natsu won't change much, and that he exists outside of framework of good and evil, they did NOT pull the punches, my favourite freak of the monster nature)

- (respect from me to angel, she summoned gemini for a prolonged period of time, and as far as i know they are rather magic-consuming, AND she was using her spirits cleverly, countering aquarius with scorpio and loki with aries)

- (also, gemini is such underappreciated spirit for how lucy moved their heart, damn)

- (and, like, uranometria is cool, but how did lucy even have enough magic power for it, if she was feeling weak after summoning in quick succession? eh, i'm nitpicking, but there is little else for me to do-)

- ("actually, i didn't die😒" sorano😭😭😭😭)

- (can you imagine a what-if "what if when wendy was travelling with mystogan, that anima that forced him to leave wendy never happened?" i mean, they look so much like siblings already, gosh-)

- (can you imagine being a kind hearted and optimistic kid in a god awful situation, and then getting brainwashed and manipulated into doing even more despicable thing, and later being freed from brainwashing and realising all the sins you've committed? god, take all the cramps from jellal and give them to, i dunno, brain)

- btw, when fighting cobra, was it natsu and happy's first on-screen airborne fight? mad respect for them and their team work!!!

- when fighting cobra, when he declared that he was going to stop nirvana, and cobra replied that he was not letting natsu near brain, natsu put two and two together and figured that it was brain who controlled nirvana

- when fighting cobra, he was rather fast in switching between tactics, first he just punched, second he tried rapid firing long ranged attacks, third he was hiding in ruins in ambush attack, then he fucking joked at cobra mentally and actually got him to laugh, happy even thought of faking their attacks. even cobra admitted that natsu was thinking a lot and that he had some not bad plans

- when fighting cobra, managed to get so into fight he was fighting without thinking, getting a couple of hits on cobra. that impressed cobra, leaving him to question whenever natsu is actually a genius or a total idiot, for he is seeing someone like that for the first time. hearing that cobra was a dragon slayer was what threw him out of that state

- got into cobra's close quarters, almost getting him to face a roar close up

- (they really only won because of natsu accidentally letting out an extra loud non-magical roar AND brain back-stabbing cobra)

- natsu, exhausted, poisoned, and motion sick, chomping into brain-

[bellafragolina]

Sub bros, Elesa, and Burgh with a blind s/o! How do they meet, do they have a guide Pokémon, cute hcs!

This is super cute!! Gosh, I love Pokémon, they're so darling.

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo:

He saw you navigating the subway, noticed your tinted glasses and the harness you had on the Stoutland panting at your side. You seemed confused, so he approached, offering assistance. You asked where a specific station was, so he guided you and your Stoutland to your destination. You talked about the soothing sound of the trains, and he told you way more about trains than you needed. But it was cute, listening to how excited he got

He sees you around more often after the first meeting. He often calls his greetings to you, and you recognize his voice (and his volume), and he walks with you to your destination. He starts carrying treats for your Stoutland the more he sees you, and he starts to look forward to seeing you more and more. Your a reprieve on busy, chaotic days

He learns Braille because he wants to write you love letters. Emmet is confused as hell seeing him with a Braille pen, dotting out on a page. Ingo refuses to divulge what he’s doing, so Emmet investigates, and sees his brother passing the page to you. You read it, a passionate love note, and blush heavily. You hug Ingo, your Stoutland yapping happily. Emmet is thrilled. A new sibling! He rushes over to introduce himself, embarrassing Ingo as he goes “so you’re the one my brother was so lovesick over!”

Emmet:

Emmet also meets you on the subway. You’re a trainer, one casually battling his line with your Pokémon team. You manage to make it to Emmet’s car with the help of your strong Furfrou. The rest of your team wait in their balls for the battle.

Emmet doesn't realize immediately that your blind, only that Furfrou stands close to you, and you appear to have headphones in, connected to the phone on your belt. He battles you, and cocks his head when your gaze doesn't seem hyper-focused on the battle ahead, instead cocked to the side like you're listening to someone.

He's annoyed you're not paying full attention, especially because you beat him. Your Furfrou stands victorious, the last one still standing amongst his brethren. You call him back, then pull out a harness for him, and Emmet suddenly feels very sheepish. But he's curious too

You stick around for a while, talking to him about how you use your Rotom Phone to help you battle since you're blind. It reports to you the results of your moves and the conditions of each of the battling Pokémon, since while you can hear the chaos, you can't exactly tell if things always hit or not, or if one of your Pokémon is near fainting. Emmet is verrrrry impressed, and waits to train with you!

You two train as often as you can, and your quick brain grabs Emmet's heart in a vice grip. He asks you out after two sessions, and takes you wherever you want to go, so long as he can kiss you there. If you don't mind him kissing you. Please?

You can't say no

Elesa:

She approaches you because you have a Zebstrika like hers, and she wants to compliment its cute vest, also she has a Zebstrika, would you mind if hers played with yours? You agree, find a bench in the park with her, and let your Pokémon wander. She asks about the vest, and you tell her about how Zebstrika is your guide Pokémon

Elesa likes you a lot from the get go. You're so nice, to her and to her Pokémon, and though she's ashamed to think it, she's relieved that she can guarantee you don't just hang out with her because you think she's pretty. Also, you laugh at her bad jokes. She's down bad

Elesa likes taking you places around Nimbasa, especially to the amusement park where her gym is located. You two have a lot of fun riding the rides, and she convinces you to get on the Ferris Wheel with her, where she tells you that she's very interested in you, would you want to date

You spend the rest of the trip on the wheel kissing her

Burgh:

You're wandering around his gym, guided by your Scolipede, when Burgh approaches you, gestures to the painting your near, and asks your opinion on it. It hits him as you just stay silent, and he's so sorry, so sorry, he didn't mean to sound like he was making fun of you! So sorry! You just laugh, though

Burgh is very interested in you Scolipede, if you're willing to chat with him about it (it's the second he excuse he had to approach you, besides the painting, but that bombed, so plan b). You two talk about bug types for a while. He invites you back to the gym as well, for whenever you want to chat about bug types with him

You think he's cute, so you come back when you can. The two of you talk about anything and everything, and your Scolipede likes Burgh a lot. So you quietly inquire about a date after a few months of hanging out. Burgh is ecstatic.

He paints you often, just too struck by your beauty to not. Even if you can't see his paintings, he layers the paint enough that you can feel them. And that alone makes you tear up. He blushes from the kisses you pepper him in as thanks, grateful you can't see how red he is, unaware you can feel the heat against your smirking lips. Yep, you were right. He's very cute.

🍓🍓🍓

Thank you for the cute request, love! I hope you like it, and I hope you have an amazing day!

~Renee

[tumbling-darkling]

You Can’t Punch A Ghost

Ch 5. Tutors and Secrets (which Danny is terrible at one of these things)

AO3

First | Previous | Next

Danny hated to admit it but Denki was easy to get along with, they clicked pretty quickly right after the training session and even a little more throughout the day. Denki wasn’t kidding when he talked about some of his garbage grades, the guy had some kind of attention related issues. Likely ADHD or something along the line of that. He also mentioned he was aware of it during the tutoring session, as Denki must have noticed Danny’s shit handwriting, as well as the halfa’s hard time trying to focus on the lines on the page as they kept threatening to float around in his vision while they practiced the various Japanese writing forms. Which was primarily ‘hiragana’ for the first session. Danny didn’t really want to admit his struggle, but Denki made it ridiculously easy to open up to. He got frustrated and dropped his pencil, huffing about the floating lines and symbols, which Denki overheard his mumbling and leaned forward, “dude that sounds like a wild case of DYSLEXIA.”

Then Denki pulled out his phone and searched up ‘reading tips for those with dyslexia’, humming as he scrolled through results then wrote some of them onto a piece of paper. He then turned to Danny with a grin and began to read out the tips while pulling out a laptop. They took the session slowly, Denki pointing out the different keys of the laptop and sounding out the hiragana. He told Danny to take his time instead of trying to rush, that there wasn’t a time limit and Aizawa didn’t expect him to write like some famous poet, just know how to read basic words at his own pace. He even suggested asking to take oral exams or exams with extended times, and that by telling Aizawa, he wouldn’t hesitate to accommodate those needs. Danny of course hesitated, it felt like cheating. Special treatment. Then Denki admitted he took oral exams, that sometimes his brain ‘short circuits’ when writing and that Aizawa was the one who recommended the oral exams when Denki admitted this fact. That it helps and it was fair, bringing up a saying about fish climbing trees.

And it made Danny feel a little better about it. In fact, he felt a little better about a lot of things during the session. They took some time to study some science and Danny helped out Denki in return. They both had fields they were comfortable in and ones they lacked but it felt like they were on the same level the entire session.

It was… nice.

Then the session was over and Denki packed up and left, and Danny retreated to his room to sneak out the window for a quick little look around the city once more, wanting to practice some of the reading he just learned.

He had just changed forms when Denki opened the door.

-

-

-

“Hey Danny, I’m missing a pen, it’s my favourite cause it’s shaped like lightning, have you seen-,” Denki looked up and froze as he spotted Danny’s floating, glowing form. “HOLY SHIT YOU’RE THAT VIGILANTE ON THE NEWS-! SPOOKY BOY!”

Danny blinked- Wait they were calling him SPOOKY BOY? It’s not worse than invis-o-Bill. But it was still horrid. He was going to have to start declaring his name again- and just Phantom- didn’t need the first name to get the dots connected. Or more wild theories to emerge from it.

“Wait a moment- why are you in Danny’s room- why are you in Mr. Aizawa’s HOUSE?” Denki suddenly shifted to a more defensive stance, “Where’s Danny? I saw him come in here! What did you do to him?”

Danny held up his hands, “I can explain-!”

“Did you kidnap him? Or hurt him? Look I may only know him for a day but he’s my classmate, dude, and you don’t mess with Class 1-A classmates!”

“Just give me a moment-!” Danny tried to speak before Denki jumped in again.

“No! No explanations! Where’s Danny?!” Danny felt the hair on his neck stand on end before he noticed the sparks jumping off Denki.

And that’s when panic took hold of his chest as his core began to thrum rapidly and the room temperature dropped. His ghost rays activated in his palms subconsciously as he floated backwards, the scars that were starting to itch now beginning to burn.

Electricity- the yellow hair and lightning bolt streak- his quirk was some sort of electric quirk-!

The ghost rays and drop in temperatures must have spooked Denki, because in a split second, all of Danny’s hair was standing on end and then his whole body was on fire.

Danny knew he was screaming even as the noise failed to reach his own ears through the pounding of his own core, lava running through every nerve in his body as he stumbled backwards, hitting the window sill and falling out of the building.

He couldn’t feel the impact when he hit the ground, couldn’t feel the ache that came when he usually was tossed around by other ghosts.

Just the burning nerves, the memories that surfaced, unimaginable pain reaching every inch of his being. Burning. Boiling. His blood bubbling from the heat, choking on his own burnt tongue, his eyes threatening to burst, nothing he was able to do that would allow him to escape it. Just pain.

Pain.

Hurt.

Stop.

Make it stop.

Just end it.

Let him die so it would stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop!

S̵̜͘t̷̻̆o̸̰͊p̸̩͛!̷͇͠

S̴̙̹̖̘̠͎̽̐̌̓t̸̛̮̬̻͈̏͌ŏ̷̧͆̿̇͠͝p̸̡͚̹̠̗͆̊̿

S̷̮̰̩̦̳̲̬̭̩̗̰̤̮̻̏̊̄̋̆̇͝t̸̻̊͑͠o̸̬̼̰̝̐̾̅ṗ̷̡̰͚͈̤͐͛̊̿́s̵̨̨̡̪̺̜̲͖̤̟̹͔͙̖͚͛t̵̢̛̪̩̬͎̉́͐͆͐͗̽͗̋͘͝o̷̧̢̧͚̝̫͚̘̳͈͔̰̺̠̕͠p̴̢̰̘͎͕͈̜̖̦͈̤̗͉͖̒̇͋́̀͗̂̑̇̚͘͝ͅş̷̡̝̣̝͕̟̩̻̜̰̝̏̈́͂t̴̡̡̛̛̳͕̞̺͚̰̯̽̿̄̏̀̈̃̋̀̍̓̍͘͘o̵͉̮͈̝̹͈͖̳̦̙͕̻̎̈́̈̓̿̐̌̊̋̎̈̍̀͋͘̚ͅp̵̨̪̞̥̯̠͈̞̼̣̱̿͑̿̉͐̂ś̸̨͙̼̮͚͔̀͆̀t̴̞̺͍́̿͂̍̄̈́͐̽̿̂̏́͆̓͘͝��̼̝̮̖͇͓ơ̶̡̨̛̰̫̳̮̑̅̂͊̃̐͒̐̕͜p̵̨̛̺̭͍̱̖̜̖͚͔̽͆̃̓͆͑̏̔̒̄̾͗͝ş̴͚̘̲͈͍͓̣̠̭̞̹͆̌̽̂̀̕̕͜͝ţ̶̞͕̦͙͈̱̯͎̹̰̼͑̋̈́̋͐͐̄̎̓͘͝͝ở̵̢͚̮̟͔̺̬̙̳͖͈̩́̄̿̆͋̀̒͝͝ṗ̵͎̫͙̫͈͙͒͐-̸̨̻͙̭̝̪̫͉͓̞̼͆̈́͋̿̃

It stopped.

It took Danny a moment to realize it stopped. When did it all stop?

He slowly opened his eyes that had been squeezed shut, a pounding ache just behind them. His face felt hot and wet, and he slowly dragged a hand that was clutching his shoulder to his face, wiping off the wetness to look at it.

Clear. Must be tears.

He twisted his gaze away from his own hand and looked up at the shadow hanging over him and nearly bolted away in surprise, but all he did instead was violently flinch.

“-nny! Danny!”

Danny finally was able to focus, recognizing Denki’s face, worry etched in every feature.

“Can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me!”

Danny managed to shakily nod his head, his brain making his thoughts a little jumbled. What was he doing? Where was he again?

“Holy shit- oh fuck I’m so sorry- I didn’t know you could do that! And your hands started to glow- then the temperature dropped and I freaked out- because you looked freaking terrifying! Eyes glowing and your room was dark so I went to stun you- I must have been turned up too high because you started to scream and then you fell backwards-! Oh god what about your ribs? What’s broken? You fell like 5 stories and the cement is a little cracked-! Fuck if you just told me it was you I wouldn’t have tried to attack! I’m so fucking sorry, oh fuck a hospital! I should call a hospital!”

Danny jerked around the mention of the hospital, “n-no! No hospital! It will heal!” He hissed, propping himself up by his elbows. “I’m fine,”—he could still feel the lava, the itch of pain that passed. The memory still fresh—“I’m fine, Denki.” He then paused as his brain seemed to reboot, “Wait- did… I…” he pulled his hair in front of his eyes.

Black.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Are you sure? Like I said it was like a 5 story drop.”

“Yes! Yes I’m- you saw me transform?” He had to- he’s calling him ‘Danny’ and was apologizing for the- the shock.

“Yeah- the ring stuff right? Dude if I had known you were Spooky Boy-.”

“Please- please don’t call me spooky boy. I go by Phantom when in that form.”

“Well- why didn’t you tell me you were a vigilante? Or had more than just an ice quirk- does Mr. Aizawa know?”

“No! No, he doesn’t know!” Danny exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. He only felt slightly bruised as moved, which was a given since his ghost form was kinda built to take a hit. “And you can’t tell him! You can’t tell anyone!”

“Why not? You would be wildly popular! Heck, spooky- Phantom is super popular already as a vigilante! I’m sure Mr. Aizawa could smooth out any legal issues with the vigilante stuff-,” Denki rambled before Danny grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him.

“Nobody. Can. Know,” he emphasized.

“But- is it because you have like 10 quirks? Or how you got your quirks? Do you have a secret past?”

“I’m not from here!!” Danny burst out, getting overwhelmed by the questions.

“Yeah I know, you’re american,” Denki stated, clearly not getting it.

“No! No, I’m not from this world!” Danny hissed.

Denki paused, “you…. are an alien?”

Danny wanted to scream. Unfortunately he was all screamed out. “No. No, a different dimension! Look, my world is connected to a dimension full of ectoplasmic creatures we call ghosts, and in that dimension portals like to pop up all willy nilly to different times and apparently, different dimensions. Sometimes those portals leak into my world and I accidently fell into one. I’m not- in my world nobody is born with powers. I got mine in an accident. And if people knew about it, then my friends and family would be in danger, and my life could be spent running from freaks who want to do- who fucking knows what with what I have. So- nobody can know, alright? If Phantom remains as a ghost and Danny remains human, then there’s no connection, and no problems.”

Denki had been slowly nodding his head as he listened, then he spoke, “okay. So different dimensions… weird. But it’s not entirely unbelievable. But the secret identity thing- you know that Mr. Aizawa would help you, right? He could help with this whole dimension thing, get you home!”

Danny shook his head, “no! No look, I don’t know what kind of villains this world has but it would NOT be good for Aizawa or your school if they found out that I was going there, or staying with him! I’ve barely been here a week and my powers- they aren’t easy to counter in this world. Look it’s just- it’s best if nobody knows. Okay? Please just- just trust me on this.”

Denki paused for a second, then nodded, “alright, I can keep quiet. Though I still think your reasoning is dumb. Which is coming from me. Quick question, can I help?”

Danny blinked, “you… want to help me?”

“Well, duh! Hero in training! Also I feel really bad about, like, shooting you out a window. Seriously, I thought I was set to stun, I never meant for it-!”

Danny held up his hands, stopping Denki mid sentence, “it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, alright?” he smiled.

Denki nodded, then leaned forward suddenly, causing Danny to jump back in surprise, “okay, so how many quirks do you have? And what’s with the super cool costume change? And how have I never noticed? How has anyone never noticed?”

Danny sighed, “let’s just, head back inside and I’ll explain. Oh, and if anyone asks about the messed up cement, let’s just say a hero crashed there and ran off or something.”

-

-

-

Denki took his time walking home, his mind swirling with a large number of thoughts. Mostly in relation to his new pal, Danny.

The American dimension hopper.

That would make such a funny comic series. But Denki would dress him more like a cowboy and he would have a horse that’s his best friend and they meet a really cool, electric dude that just happens to be called Denki and go on wild adventures in the various dimensions of reality.

No wait- his thoughts were derailing. Back to Danny.

Back to the fact that everything was real. That Danny came from a world where powers weren’t the norm but ghosts were. That ghosts existed at all was a wild thought but then Danny started to talk about how his ghosts were only powerful where he came from because of an element called ectoplasm. And while Denki couldn’t really wrap his head around how that works, he did understand that apparently, souls could imprint on large amounts of ectoplasm and essentially create a new host or body for the soul. That ghosts aren’t always souls of people but could be powerful elements given sentience or ectoplasm exposed to strong emotions to create smaller beings. That not all people become ghosts when they die.

And that Danny had told him he was only half ghost. That he died in an accident, which he refused to explain exactly how, only huffing out that he died by doing too dope of a skater trick, which Denki was 90% sure was untrue.

The whole half dead part really was taking a toll on his mind, and death in general. Sometimes it’s so easy to forget that Hero work is really dangerous, that heroes die a lot in the line of work. And nobody really mentions the death part. Not enough for anyone to put too much thought into what could happen after. Would he become a ghost? Would he disappear? He wasn’t really in a hurry to find out.

He also was in charge of a secret. One he couldn’t tell Kiri or Bakugou or Sero or even Mina (she would especially spread the information like wildfire), a secret between him and Danny. One that Danny trusted him to keep. Well he didn’t have a choice but still! It was a secret he had to keep for the sake of Danny!

He paused for a second, he told him he would help too. Help him figure out how to get back to his home. He could do that! Maybe do some reading about it! Find some science facilities or something that mention dimension hopping or studies about it!

Study sessions just got 1000% more interesting!

-

-

-

Toshinori Yagi had faced death.

He’d seen it often. It’s something you can’t avoid when you are a hero for decades. It’s something you will face, something you have to accept, but something that is very difficult to understand. He had seen it since he was young, and even people who are not heroes face death. But it is so much more violent when taking the responsibility to protect others.

He watched Nana lay down her life for the sake of protection. He’s seen friends, co-workers, even strangers in the heroic duty fall and rarely was it painless or quick. When you’re faced with danger with a heroic morality, it’s difficult to step back to let someone else handle a situation. Instead you fight. You fight through your pain, fight through collapsing lungs and shattered limbs, you fight until it’s impossible to move. You fight until you’re dead.

And it’s never peaceful.

You can be told that it was heroic. That the fallen will be remembered as heroes.

But that doesn’t take away the fact that those who are dying die too young. That their hearts shatter with their broken bodies. That many die not knowing if their sacrifice was enough. That many die with tears in their eyes not because of pain, but because they aren’t ready to give up life yet. They are scared all the way up to their final breath. And that not all of them can die surrounded by friends or family, that most die alone, choking on their own blood.

Heroics could be a war zone.

And Toshinori had fought every second of his career to make sure that the children entering the field would never have to face the horrors of death. To train them so they would know when to ask for backup, call for help, so they would never have to die, not alone, not in pain, never again abandoned. No more sacrifices.

But how can they prepare for the unprepared?

In the aftermath of the USJ and Stain, Toshinori had started to become paranoid. The kids seemed to be handling it fine, better than he expected, but that may only be because nobody had died. Moods would have shifted, changed even if Shouta had lost his life during the USJ attack. Even serious injuries to family had driven a young and promising student to acts of revenge.

And then he swore he met death.

He was preparing for classes on the first day back from the students' internships, moving papers between classes when he bumped into Shouta. More specifically, he bumped into the child with Shouta.

But he didn’t see a child. Not at first.

He saw death itself.

Hollow sockets, with glowing green dots within the darkness as eyes that seemed to pierce through his soul. Paper thin skin that reveals all the veins, organs, and skeleton, lichtenberg marks coating it’s left arm and extending to its chest, flashing a toxic green every few seconds. Elongated features, arms and fingers that were too skinny and too long, sharp cheeks and sharper teeth. Too white of hair wisping around death's face like it was caught underwater, a blackened crown covered in green flames hovering over its head. The smell of burning flesh and static, the echoing screams of a dying child. The overwhelming pressure that squeezed the air around them.

Scared was the wrong word.

He was petrified.

He thought death had finally decided to take his soul. That his heart finally gave out, that he took the wrong dose of medication that morning, that a villain must have finally gotten in that final lucky hit. And he only worried for young Midoriya, fearing that he would have to face a foe he knew nothing about. One that Toshinori believed to have been dead. One that could kill him just as easily as he killed Nana.

He felt so small, smaller than when he watched his mentor die, smaller than when he finally delivered what he believed was the final blow to All for One. Smaller than when he lay on the cold, hard ground, bleeding out with half his organs strewn across the earth.

Then it all lifted.

Like waking from a nightmare.

His heart still pounded in his chest, the shadow of death still hung over the child that took death's place, and the fear was still pumping adrenaline through his veins.

It took all the willpower in the world to keep from transforming and smashing the child out of the building.

Was he really a child?

How much of it was just a hallucination?

He barely caught his name as Shouta introduced him.

Danny Fenton.

It didn’t ring any bells. No clues to who he could be. What he could be.

He plastered on a meek smile, shook the boy’s hand, which was too cold. Like a corpse.

And then the meeting was over and they both walked off.

And Toshinori couldn’t help but glance back, to see if he would see death once more where the boy stood. But instead he caught the boy’s too blue eyes, even Toshinori’s eyes didn’t have the chill and off-ness that the boy did. He quickly turned his gaze away, something within him screaming at him to run. To stop drawing it’s attention. Get away.

Returning to his office, he nearly slammed the door off its hinges in his rush.

His heart was still hammering against his ribcage.

He was just a kid- maybe his quirk was a nightmare quirk.

It had to be.

… Right?

-

-

-

An old ghost floated in their lair, staring at a large clock face that had gone black.

A Master of Time was just that, a master only of time itself, and not space.

The Master of Space was still being brought up. Still learning his place, his role in the zone. Clockwork took the responsibility in becoming his ghostly guardian, his teacher, and his protector from responsibilities he was not ready for.

But it was difficult when he was usually limited to one space. One world with a large variety of timelines to guard and watch over. Space and time worked together but were so different, space being affected by time and time being affected by space.

Clockwork had gone a long time without a counter. But he knew when he would show up. How he would grow. The decisions he would make. The zone itself used to be a counter, but it needed a Master. And who better than the boy that defeated the old king?

Now Clockwork, for the first time in eons, was at a loss.

The small rivers of time were so fickle. He barely had any time to react when the current timeline slipped through the cracks. When the low chance of a portal opening at the specific moments and times were near impossible. And the chance of leading to not only a different time but different space?

It never should have happened.

But it had.

And Daniel’s future was unwritten, the rivers of time stopped because how could time predict the future of someone who wasn’t in the time stream anymore?

Clockwork could not know if Daniel would ever return, could ever return? How much of this was meant to happen? He couldn’t even prevent Daniel from entering it, he could only guide him forward.

He only had a little time to send a message through the child’s device, telling him to trust his heart. To make the right choices.

He had hoped it would ease the boy's nerves when he realized how far from home he had become, to have him believe this was planned.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t planned.

And he couldn’t let Daniel be lost forever.

Clockwork waved his staff, searching the clock faces in front of him as they all shifted, the hands turning at rapid speeds, images passing by by the thousands in a blink of an eye.

Then another wave and they all stopped, and Clockwork took note of the date and location.

Turning to leave his lair he paused, doubt crossing his mind.

Causing him to laugh to himself.

Doubt.

There was no doubt with Daniel.

He continued forward, the doubt gone and newfound desire coursing through his being.

This world would be fine without him for the time being.

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[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.8

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eight: Wild Love: Spencer gets something off his chest while you’re stuck in a hotel room. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading.     Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, this whole series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: y’all are killing me with all the love on this story so far omg. i am so appreciative of every single comment, like, reblog, all the sweet things you say in the tags etc. etc. thank you and i hope you like this chapter (this one turned out to be more conversation than descriptions of feelings/thoughts just fyi) ! x

-

“Since we’re stuck here for the night, how about one more drink?” Luke asked, glancing between the team. “You buying?” Matt teased making everyone else chuckle. Luke rolled his eyes. “If that’s what it takes.”

All flights were grounded due to a heavy snowstorm. This meant that after solving their most recent case, the team were forced to remain on location. At a small bed and breakfast right in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ll have another drink.” Emily stated with a smile. “Sure, why the hell not. It’s not often I get a night away from my boys.” JJ added. Tara also raised her hand, indicating she'll have one more.

All heads turned to you and Spencer. The brunette doctor sat quietly in the corner. Clearly a lot on his mind. You were right by his side, gently resting your head against his shoulder.

A small yawn escaped your lips. “I think I’m gonna call it a night guys.” You said, slowly sitting up. “It’s been a heck of a day, and the bed is calling my name.” The group groaned, but didn't protest. Instead, they all looked to Spencer who seemed to be debating his options.

“What about you Reid?” Luke asked. “Care for another one?”

“Sure. Uh, I’ll walk Y/N to her room and I’ll be right back.” “It’s okay Spencer, stay. I’ll be fine.” You countered while getting up to your feet however, the handsome doctor wasn’t taking no for answer.

Unknown to you, unknown to everyone apart from Penelope, Spencer’s been trying to find the right moment to tell you how he really felt. He spent the last two months debating whether it was a good idea. The idea of telling you he was still in love with you scared the shit out of him because it could go one of two ways:

1. You feel the same way and call off the engagement. The two of you get back together and he spends the rest of his living breathing days making you the happiest woman on earth.

2. You don’t feel the same way and you end up resenting him for lying to you, his confession ruining your friendship.

Either way, someone will end up getting hurt.

“You really didn't have to come with me doctor.” You said stopping outside the door. Spencer shrugged his shoulders, his nose twitching simultaneously. “I wanted to. Plus sitting too long causes a number of health issues. Your leg muscles weaken. Your hip flexors shorten, and it can cause compression on the discs in your spine which can lead to premature degeneration, which results in chronic pain.”

You arched a brow. “So what you’re saying is that you’re really just looking out for yourself?”

“No, I-I, well...” He flustered and you couldn't help but chuckle. “We’ve been friends long enough for you to know when I’m just messing around.” Friends. The word stung. “Right. Sorry.” He glanced down at his shoes.

Sudden concern flooded through you. Gently, you placed a hand on the side of his face, and slowly lifted it back up. “Are you okay honey? You seem a little off, and I hope you don't mind me saying but it’s not just tonight.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Mind racing a million miles an hour. Of course you recognised his odd behaviour. He thought he did a good job at hiding his inner turmoil. Honestly, sometimes he forgets just how well you can read him. He forgets that you know him better than he knows himself.

“I hope you know you can talk to me.” You whispered, tenderly brushing loose strands of his hair away from his face.

The gleam in your eyes was so kindhearted. It was exactly that look that made Spencer think he truly didn't deserve you and that you were better off without him. It was also that look that made Spencer love you even more. The look that made him want to fight for you.

“Do ehm, do you think I could come in?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Of course.” You let your hand fall back to your side. “Of course you can.”

Soon enough the two of you were sat at the edge of your bed. A noticeably tense atmosphere filled the air. Your eyes were glued to the side of his head, wondering what the hell was going on in that big brain of his, while Spencer looked down at his hands. Which at this point were trembling uncontrollably.

It didn’t take you long to notice, you could practically feel them vibrating against your leg. You reached out, giving them a little squeeze before intertwining your fingers with his.

“What’s going on Spencer? You’re starting to scare me.”

The hazel-eyed man took a deep breath before finally meeting your gaze. His features broken, as if he was about to burst into tears.

“I’ve been lying to you Y/N.” He stated quietly.

You furrowed your brows confused, taken aback by his admission. “W-what? What are you talking about? You’re the most honest man I’ve ever met.” You expressed, but he shook his head. His light curls bouncing perfectly. “I’m not. I’m really not.”

“Spencer.” “Please Y/N, please just… I… I haven’t been honest with you and it’s eating me alive. Usually you would be the person I turn to for advice on these things, but since it involves you… I-I really don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

You nodded your head slowly and swallowed your breath. “O-okay. Okay well, uhm… let me ask you this. If you don’t tell me, are you going to continue lying to me?” It was a weighted question which Spencer knew there was no right answer to. “Unfortunately.” He mumbled.

“Then I think, I think it is that simple.”

You were right. Every inch of him screamed you were right. Fuck. How the hell did it come to this? He had no trouble hiding his love for you these last few years.  He couldn’t understand why was it so difficult all of a sudden.

Abruptly, Spencer got to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair. A deep frustrated sigh escaping his lips as he loosened his tie. Your uneasy gaze locked onto him, following his every move. And as he closed his eyes, cracking his neck, you suddenly remembered that the last time he seemed this frazzled was the day the two of you broke up. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh no.” You whispered standing up. “Ohh Spencer.”

He turned on his heel to look at you once again. Your fingers were pressed to your chin, mouth slightly parted. You couldn’t possibly have figured it out?

“You’re breaking up with me.” It seemed like a silly statement considering you weren’t a couple. “I mean, you’re ending our friendship. That’s what this is, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore and you’ve been lying to me by pretending that you do.” There were noticeable tears in your eyes.

“What? No, no, no. It’s completely the opposite of that.”

“I don’t think I understand. The opposite of-”

“I love you.”

“Well of course, I love you too. You’re my best friend. You’re family.”

“No.” He took a step towards you and cupped your cheeks with his hands. “I’m in love with you Y/N.”

You blinked. Eyelashes fluttering as the realisation of what Spencer just declared washed over you. He saw your lips quaver and your eyes widen. The dots connecting in your mind. All the moments you spent together, the conversations you shared. Everything was running through your mind like a homemade movie, making it impossible it collect your thoughts.

“I know I said I moved on, and that’s where I lied.” Spencer continued as you stared at him, unable to move. “I never moved on Y/N. I tried, believe me I tried. But you are a part of me, a part of my soul. You are the reason I get out of bed in the morning. Seeing you, your smile. Hearing your laughter. Being able to talk to you, and just be around you. Your aura. Everything about you is so intoxicating and I messed up big time letting you go all those years ago.”

Tears began to trail down your cheeks as you bit down on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. Tiny salty droplets that Spencer slowly wiped away using his thumbs.

“I never said anything because I wanted to be there for you, first and foremost, in whatever way you needed me. I wanted to remain in your life after we broke up because your friendship means the world to me. I guess I thought-t, I hoped that maybe one day we’d get back together. And I know it’s unfair for me to lay all of this on you now, I know. And I’m sorry, I can’t keep it to myself anymore. You, I think you deserve to know.”

Quiet sobs filled the room. Your whole body was now shaking under his touch. Heart aching. It felt like you couldn't breathe.

All you ever wanted was for Spencer to love you. All you ever wanted was for him to tell you that he made a mistake all those years ago and that the two of you belong together. 

“P-please say something.” His plea was barely a whisper.

All you ever wanted.

“I-I.. Spencer, I...”

You finally got all you ever wanted. The brunette doctor was standing in front of you professing his love, and yet it felt like he just stabbed you in the back. His declaration, those three cursed words you dreamt so long ago to hear come out of his lips again. It felt like the ultimate betrayal.

Don't know what to say to you now Standing right in front of you

-

A/N: FINALLY A LOVE CONFESSION ! honestly this chapter was a little hard for me to write... it took me a while to actually sit down to it and actually be happy with what i wrote idk BUT i hope you liked it and as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner​

[asthmark]

❝ walk you home ❞ l.dh

synopsis → “it’s just a suggestion but you could maybe put your lips on mine?”

request → “hi ive reading your works and honestly thank u for being a blog that doesn’t write smut. i feel like there are so few blogs like so. all your works make my heart feel fluffy and warm 😊 i was wondering if i could request a fluffy prompt kinda based off the nct dream song: walk you home with haechan? you have full creative freedom ❤️ thank u”

word count → 1.6k

you didn’t walk home often but when you did it always proved to be a peaceful and serene experience. 

you take pleasure in the sound of the pavement beneath your feet as your legs carry you home and your hands hold on tightly to the straps of your backpack. the calm breeze blows some of your hair around and the sun’s rays shine down on you delightfully. 

you decide it can’t get much better than this.

but, of course, you can’t have anything nice. 

you realize this when you feel a pair of hands grasp your shoulders firmly resulting in you effectively jumping out of your skin with a loud shriek.

the culprit, none other than lee donghyuck, laughs as he watches you place your hands on your knees, trying to steady your racing heart. 

“not funny, donghyuck!” you punch his arm to express your frustration. “you almost gave me a heart attack, for christ’s sake!”

he holds up his hands in defense. “okay, okay. i’m sorry. i was messing around, i thought it’d be funny.” 

“oh right because sneaking up on a girl walking home alone and making her think she’s going to be kidnapped is just hilarious.”

“i really didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, genuinely. “i came here for a reason, i swear.”

you raise your brows, expectantly.

“i was just thinking i could maybe walk you home?” 

you observe the way he tugs gently at the string of his hoodie, almost as if he were nervous. but why would he be nervous in front of you? you were just his best friend’s little sister. 

“you want to walk with me?” 

he nods in confirmation. 

you play with your shirt collar, not entirely sure what to say. “that’s fine, i guess.” 

with that, you continue on your route not even waiting for donghyuck who jogs to catch up to you. despite your houses being only a couple blocks away from each other, you and donghyuck had never walked anywhere together. at least, in your high school years. 

when you were all much younger, him and your older brother mark would almost always walk to the bus stop together. your mother had you tag along with them and your tiny figure would often be seen trailing behind them, trying your best to keep up. 

as you grew up, many things begun changing. most notably, the way you felt about donghyuck. before, all you had seen him as was mark’s obnoxious friend who pestered you relentlessly. but you had finally realized how cute and charming he truly was. you started to enjoy the way he teased you as long as it meant you had his attention. it wasn’t long before mark noticed your change in attitude and connected the dots. it was easy to say he was displeased. first of all, having you follow donghyuck all the time like a shadow proved to be very irritating. second of all, his best friend and his little sister together was something he didn’t want to even think about. 

when he commented about your strange behavior to donghyuck, the boy had only said he didn’t mind it. in fact, he seemed to enjoy your little antics.  

mark realized had no other choice but to take matters into his own hands. so, he sat you down one evening to have a chat with you and he certainly had no problem lying straight to your face.

“donghyuck hates you,” he had said. 

you had stopped stroking your dolls hair to stare at him with eyes as big as saucers. “w-what?” 

“yeah. he told me. he thinks you’re super annoying.” 

and just like that, your little heart had been broken. you remember crying for hours that day and begging your mom to drive you to school so you wouldn’t have to face donghyuck in the mornings. mark even suggested that you avoid him at school too so that he wouldn’t find you anymore unpleasant than he already did. you obeyed and soon enough your trio had broken up.

ever since then, you had stayed in your own lane away from lee donghyuck who, according to your older brother, could not stand you. 

“so... what’s up with you? i feel like it’s been so long since we caught up.” 

you sigh, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk. “i’m pretty okay.” 

he waits, expecting you to add on. he clears his throat awkwardly when he realizes you’re not going to. you had been so talkative during your childhood, what happened? “oh, that’s good.” 

for the sake of clearing the tension, you force yourself to ask him how he’s doing. “what about you?” 

his face brightens up. “i’m doing good! well, grade-wise no. actually, maybe? i have straight c’s which is technically passing but not super good, you know? but other than, i‘m not bad. i finally tried out for a basketball team. remember how when we were younger i always wanted to play but they told me i was too short?” 

“i remember a lot of things from when we were younger,” you mumble, bitterly. 

he continues, dismissing your comment. “yeah well, i finally grew! i’m actually three inches taller than the average male. isn’t that crazy?” 

you’re not entirely sure how to respond so that you just nod and try to give him the most sincere smile you can muster. “good for you.” 

“hey, didn’t you want to take art classes when we were kids? but your parents made you do ballet instead?” 

you hesitate as the memory registers in your brain. “yeah. i did, actually.” 

donghyuck chuckles. “you were so mad. and then you ended up not even taking it. i’m pretty sure it was because you threw a huge tantrum outside your house.” 

you titter at the embarrassing memory. “i totally forgot about that. you must have a crazy good memory.” 

he shrugs. “kind of. but i think my favorite one has to be when you tried sneaking out of your bedroom window but you fell and ended up with a fractured ankle.” 

your eyes dart to him. “oh my god, how do you know that? did mark tell you? because i swear if he did i’m gonna—”

“it wasn’t him.” 

“then who was it?” 

he suddenly becomes shy. “i, um, heard  you telling your friends about it.” 

“you were eavesdropping?” 

he fiddles with his earring, nervously. “i guess. but i swear it wasn’t to be creepy—”

“sounds pretty creepy to me, donghyuck.” 

he sighs in defeat. “i just wanted to hear your voice.”  

you stumble over nothing. “i’m sorry, what?” 

“you’re never around me anymore,” he says, sounding hurt. “i know you’re avoiding me. and i don’t know why. but i still try to be close to you without upsetting you. i try to meet your eyes when you pass by in the hallway, i try to go by your house as much as i can so i can catch a glimpse of you. but it never works.”  

ever since mark had told you how donghyuck felt about you, you swore to yourself you would stop caring about him. although, at this moment, you can’t help but feel slightly guilty. you try to come to your senses.  

“i thought i was annoying,” you mumble. 

he squints his eyes. “what? who said that?” 

you stop dead in your tracks. “you’re kidding right? you did! you said i was annoying and that you hated me.” 

he stares off into the distance, trying to concentrate. “i really don’t remember saying that to you.” 

“you didn’t. you told mark. mark told me. i never forgot it.” 

“okay, i definitely didn’t say anything like that to mark. the only thing i remember telling him was—“ he stops, abruptly. 

you press further. “what did you tell him, donghyuck?” 

“that i had a crush on you.” 

it takes you a moment to process the words that come out of his mouth. “are you messing with me?” 

he scowls. “no! it took a lot of guts, i remember being so nervous to tell him. i thought he would tell you for me but i guess he said the complete opposite.”  

strangely enough, you believe him. you decide to confess too. “well... i had a crush on you too.” 

now it’s his turn to be stunned into silence. “seriously?” 

“yes! i thought it was so obvious.”  

“i would have never known.” he runs a hand through his hair. “just imagine what would have happened if mark had told either of us how the other felt. why do you think he lied about all that stuff, anyway?”  

“knowing him, he couldn’t stand the thought of his little sister and best friend liking each other so he tried to keep us apart by lying and hoping we’d just forget about each other or something. what an idiot.” 

“jokes on him if he thinks i would forget you. we might’ve been like 12 but i was ready to commit.”

you chuckle. “and how about now? still willing to?” 

he smiles, pearly whites on display. “always.”

##bonus: 

you stop at the front steps of your house, turning to donghyuck and grinning from ear to ear. “well, thanks for walking with me. i’m glad we finally got things sorted out.” 

he nods. “i’ve missed you.” 

you bite your lip. “i’ve missed you, too.”

he ruffles your hair. “you’re still super adorable, by the way.” 

“and you’re still super—“ you run your fingers over the smooth skin of his cheeks before squeezing them. “annoying.”  

he pouts. “that was mean.” 

you place your hands on his shoulders. “sorry, cutie. i couldn’t help it.” 

“make it up to me?” 

“and how would i do that?” 

“it’s just a suggestion but you could maybe put your lips on mine?”

you smile, more than happy to follow through with his instructions. as you lean in, you feel your inner little girl get the best of you. your heart speeds up and you hold your clammy hands together tightly behind his head.

“what is going on here?!” 

you both jump back from each other to face mark standing in the doorway of your house. he wastes no time dashing down the stairs, coming straight for the brunette beside you.

“lee donghyuck, i’m going to strangle you!”

at hearing the pure anger in mark’s voice, donghyuck’s face drops. he presses a quick kiss to your lips. you don’t even have time to feel any form of surprise because before you can even register what was happening, he’s making a run for it with mark right behind him.

[itsleah728]

Death Won’t Do Us Part

This story has a gender neutral apprentice and is a angst! This story also takes place during the time of the plague plus has brief mentions of suicide (I will put a warning before this)! Lastly I have decided to have you and Valdemar already dating 😉 so be prepared for that.

MINOR SPOILER WARNING! (I did not properly research the effects of the plague so I winged it)

READERS POV. (2nd person)

          You have been working for days on end trying to find a cure for the deadly plague. You and your master, whom you call Julian have been working together for a few hours now. The work is tiring and has only been giving you no good results and a pounding headache. You both want to give up but the head doctor Valdemar and your lover won't allow it even though everyone knows it's only because they love testing on others and not because they actually care about saving them.

        You and Julian are working on your final patient of the night when Valdemar waltzes into the room looking as bored as ever. They have some blood on them but everyone down in the dungeons does. They casually walk up to you and wrap their long arms around your waist. "What do we have here?" The speak into your ear making a shiver shoot up your spine which makes Valdemar chuckle at the reaction. Julian fails to see the exchange as he's too busy trying to properly preform surgery on the plague victim layed out in front of you. You try shaking out of their embrace but to no avail due to them tightening their grip. You roll your eyes but can help the fond smile that comes forwards. "We're trying to do some tests if you would please remove your arms" you bashfully mumble making Julian look up at you in concern. He already knew of the strange relationship but he simply hates seeing it. Valdemar sees Julians strange looks and simply glares at him. Julian seemingly sees this as he briskly gets back to working.

         A few minutes pass in their embrace until Valdemar squeezes your hips once more before stepping away from you, allowing you to work once more. Out of the corner of your eye you can see them walk towards your notes and start flipping through the pages. Not really minding, you turn your full attention back to the victim in front of you leaving Valdemar to gaze at you from afar.

SMALL TIME SKIP~

       After another hour of testing and an hour after that cleaning you are finally done for the day. Valdemar stayed in the room the rest of the night claiming they wanted to "see the results." Right when the day is done and everything is cleaned Julian dashes from the room and you know it's due to Valdemar's presence. Not most people enjoy being around them which is why your relationship is questioned and occasionally frowned upon. Even though at first you didn't like them either, they eventually showed you a side no one else had seen before. They act like your the most precious thing in the world while everyone else gets glares and rude gestures. You get snapped out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder. Turning around you see Valdemar staring at you lovingly. "Time to leave, even though I wish I could stay here longer" they mumble the last part and you scoff playfully at them for wanting to stay in the dungeons longer than necessary. You grab their hand and tug at it as if saying "let's go then."

        They lead you out of the dungeon as you walk hand in hand towards your shared room. As you walk a wave a dizziness washes over you, consuming your whole body. Your knees buckle and you collapse to the ground breathing heavily. Due to you and Valdemar's connected hands they fall to the ground with you. Your ears are ringing while black dots poke the edges of the vision. You can feel your body start to shake and all you can think in this moment is 'is this the end?' You faintly hear someone yelling out your name but it's too hard to tell as you finally succumb to the darkness.

VALDEMAR'S POV (1st PERSON)

          Me and MC walk through the halls towards our room when all of a sudden I feel MC start to shake. Concerned I turn towards them only to see their knees buckle as they collapse to the ground. "MC !" I scream as I kneel next to them and check over their convulsing body. 'What's happening' I think as my shaking hands continue searching their body for any external wounds. "SOMEONE HELP!" I yell down the halls of the castle because I know I can't do anything to help them in the halls or alone. "I NEED SOMEONES HEL-p.... now!" My voice gives out at the end of my statement as I watch in horror as my darlings eyes start to have a tint of pink in them. MC then passes out and my hands go up to my mouth. Tears slowly start streaming down my face and a million thoughts run through my mind.

A few minutes pass and I've run out of tears to cry for the time being. I shakily stand, dust myself off, and straighten my shoulders because I know that if want to try saving my darling I need to have the right mind set. Just as that thought passes my mind I hear someone dashing down the halls. I turn my body to see Julian running up to me, he comes to a stop in front of MC's frail body and his eye widen in shock. "What happened?" he questions in a whisper.

I explain to Julian exactly what happened and we both decide it's best to bring MC to the dungeons because we don't want anyone trying to harm or steal them away. I delicately grab ahold of MC's upper arms while Julian grabs their legs. We careful pick them up and start heading to the dungeons. I only have 2 things running through my mind. One being 'how can I save them plus what do I do if I can't ' and the other being 'how do I tell them that they may die from the plague.'

TIME SKIP~

READERS POV (2nd PERSON)

You come to with your ears still slightly ringing and your vision slowly clearing up. You spend a moment to take in your surroundings and try remembering what happened to you. You then suddenly remember that you were walking with Valdemar when you started feeling dizzy.... after that your brain draws a blank. You hear a small noise come from the corner of the room so you decide to slowly sit up. You place your shaky hands on each side of you and steadily push yourself up. It feels as if your body is being weighted down my 100 pound weights while your head feels as if it's being hit by a hammer repeatedly. After finally getting into a sitting position you can see that Valdemar is slowly pacing the room back and forth, seemingly not even aware that your awake. You clear your throat and Valdemar jumps in response. Their reaction makes your stomach roll because everyone knows that nothing scares Valdemar.

You watch with a blank face as Valdemar rushes over to you and starts fretting over you. You appreciate the gestures but you honestly just want to know what had happened to you, or what is happening to you. You place one of your frail hands over one of theirs and soothingly rub it. You slowly look into their eyes and ask "what is wrong with me?" You know whatever it is, is bad due to the way your body is feeling and the way Valdemar is comforting you. Valdemar freezes at the question and slowly sits beside you. They mumble something you didn't quite catch so you ask them to repeat it. You see them take a deep breath and just blurt out "YOU HAVE THE PLAGE!" You can feel your whole world crash around you with those 4 words. The worst part isn't even that you have the plague, the worst part is that you have to leave Valdemar. You can feel tears spring to your eyes and you want to wipe them away to appear strong but your body won't move. You can't tell if it's because your in shock or if it is because you're so deathly ill. You break out of the trance when you feel a warm hand wipe the tears from under your eyes. You then notice just how close Valdemar is to you and you try pushing them away. "You can't be near me you'll get sick.... I don't know what I would do if I caused your demise" you ramble with tears still streaming down your face. They take your hands that are trying to push them away and lightly start kissing each finger tip. The feeling makes your heart flutter but the words they say afterwords make you want to cry tears of joy. "Darling I am no longer human remember? Even if I was I wouldn't dare stay away from you." You both take a moment of just basking in each other's presence before Valdemar breaks the silence as they stand from the bed you're resting on. "I would love to stay here all the time but I must find a way to cure you!" You exhale a shaky breath and state "Valdemar we have spent months trying to find a way to cure the plague and we have found nothing.... there is nothing anyone can do....." Valdemar quickly turns towards you "I refuse to lose you!" They quickly storm out of the room after those parting words leaving you slightly sad. You slowly lay back down with a million thoughts running through your head.

TIME SKIP~

It has been 2 weeks now and Valdemar has found nothing of use. They have been spending most of their time just trying to find a cure for you. You know your time is coming to an end because your health is rapidly deteriorating. You eyes have now turned completely red and getting out of bed is an absolute chore. You don't even want to attempt walking or standing. Knowing that your days are numbered you have decided to spend your last few days with the love of your life.

Valdemar had finally stopped by your room to tell you the same thing they have said every other time, that they have found no new information. Normally they would quickly dash out of the room. They attempted this today but with all the strength in your body you grab their wrist stopping any other further movements. You can see their whole body freeze at the touch of your cold hands. They slowly turn around and you can see the tired and sad expression laced upon their face. You pat the spot next to you and Valdemar slowly sits down. You place your head on their shoulder and with no words exchanged Valdemar starts running his hand through your long/short hair. You bask in the silence a moment longer until you remove your head from their shoulder and say in the softest voice they have ever heard "I know it is not what you want to hear but I am dying and I wish to spend my last few days with you." You think you broke them due to how silent they have become until they decide to speak. "I.....I know....I am so sorry I couldn't help you" they say while grabbing your hands in theirs. "We can do whatever you want for they next few days."

TIME SKIP~

Your last remaining days were spent with you and Valdemar together. Just laughing and thinking of old times, better times. It was definitely some of the best days of your short life. You wish you could have stayed a bit longer just to be with them but your time came too soon. You died in Valdemar's arms just a few days after your talk. Not only did you die in that room but the soul of a demon died with you.

POV CHANGE (third person)

(WARNING: BREIF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE)

The other people living in the castle claim that Valdemar just disappeared after MC died. No one will forget the look of despair that came across Valdemar's face once MC took their final breath and said their last "I love you." Some people say that they have seen Valdemar just sitting in the hallway where it was first discovered that MC had the plague. Others say Valdemar isn't even alive anymore, that they have went on to be with their lover. No matter what the rumors say one thing will always be true and that is that MC and Valdemar will always love each other. Death will never do them part.

[literaila]

how could this ever be different?

spencer x reader 

warnings: criminal minds stuff. its not all accurate, i am not a genius.  thats it? suprising 

summary: spencer goes undercover in Las Vegas to catch an unsub. he might just catch feelings along the way...  part one: 

Blunt force trauma. 

Multiple lacerations. 

Young women. 

Different dump sites. 

The unsub had been killing women all over Las Vegas, with no specific victimology, just a bunch of different women who were in the right place at the wrong time. 

There was nothing distinctive about the unsub, nothing that made him stick out to the team. 

After a week in Vegas, a dreadful week filled with nothing but more questions and the sun. 

They were not getting anywhere. 

On the 6th day, after 10 bodies had been found total, and the unsub had stopped killing for two days, Hotch decided they couldn't be of any help, and that the case would be declared “cold” until more evidence came out. 

All of them were disappointed, angry that all of those women had died, and they couldn't do anything to avenge them. They all wanted to prevent anyone else from losing their life at the unsubs hands, but without more information, they couldn't do anything. 

They all left Nevada with sour expressions and hopeless mindsets. 

Four months later, more women had died. 

It had slowed down significantly when they had left, but one month after that, the unsub had picked up his pace, 2 women dead in the span of a week. More weeks went by, with no other signs he was still killing, and then suddenly he was killing once a week, then twice, and then during the fourth month, it had picked up so much he was killing an average of five women each day. Sometimes, multiple women a day. 

And while this provided more evidence, helped the team dig deeper into his mindset, it still wasn't enough. 

They were still sitting around the round table, still thinking. 

There wasn't enough. 

“Hotch, we aren't getting anywhere, we don't know enough about this guy.” 

Derek sighed and sat back in his chair. 

“I think we know some-” Prentiss argued, her frown plastered on her face. 

“But not enough.” Derek interrupted, his eyes were tired, and he wanted to move on to a case where they could actually save people, not a case where none of them knew what they were doing. He felt like he was holding this case on his shoulders, and until they were through with it, the weight wouldn't go away. 

There wasn't enough coffee to cure the exhaustion running around the room. 

“Do we move on again?” Hotch asked, not exactly sure what to do, they’d never had a situation quite like this one. 

They could keep working, keep searching for answers that weren't there, or they could move on, they could work on something, on someone, where they actually knew the answers. They could go home and start over again tomorrow. 

Or they could stay, exhausted, unmotivated, and keep working. 

It was clear what they all wanted to do. It was clear that the easiest answer wouldn't be the right one. 

“If only we could find some sort of pattern.” Rossi looked through his file again, looked at all the girls' history, read over the things he had already read hundreds of times. There had to be some sort of answer somewhere. 

The rest of the team copied him, all of them reading everything over and over, desperate to find something, anything. 

“Hotch we’ve been over this hundreds of times.” Derek sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was the most exhausted out of all of them, angry that they couldn't stop this guy from killing more women, angry that they couldn't save the other girl's lives. 

“I know, Morgan, but I don't think giving up is the right idea-” 

“Wait.” 

Everyone looked over to the genius interrupting, his brows were furrowed and his mouth was turned down, but they all recognized the look on his face, they could all see that he was thinking of something. 

If anyone had figured out anything, it would be Spencer. 

“It looks like it's some sort of schedule…” 

The tall man got up to walk to the whiteboard in the front of the room, he frowned as he wrote down different numbers. 

The rest of the team watched confused as he scrawled messy numbers, again and again, they were all trying to make sense of it, make sense of anything, but they aren't geniuses, and they didn't understand. 

“Reid do you mind explaining-” 

Spencer cut Derek up with a finger signaling he needed a minute. It caused a moment of laughter between the team as Derek looked startled. 

When Spencer looked back over at the other people in the room, capping the marker he was holding in his head, he smiled as if he was laughing at himself. As if he should’ve realized sooner. 

“It's a schedule- I mean, look-” he pointed at the numbers, laughing as he said it out loud for the first time, the rest of the team just stared at him, waiting for a bigger explanation. “He only kills between the hours of 6 AM and 6 PM- I mean look-” he pointed up at one of the girls “Megan Cooley was killed at 7:28 PM, Hannah Zen was killed at 5 in the morning, and all of the other girls correlate with this schedule.” 

They all stared at the board, the dots connecting, everything suddenly coming to light. It was so strange that just a small realization could change everything for them. 

“Garcia,” Spencer said, suddenly put into action. Penelope looked immediately at him, her eyes alert. “Can you find a list of Employees that work 6-6 hours in Las Vegas? It's probably as a manager, a position that doesn't allow sick days.” 

Insistent typing went on as they all stared Garcia down. There was a pinch of hope in the room, just the slightest realization that maybe they could finally start to do something. 

“There are… 48 total employees who worked on those days, who haven't taken any sick days,” Garcia said as she continued typing.

“Okay, how about employees that started working overtime a month after the case was opened?” 

A second went by, two. 

“There are 12 results,” she said, looking back up at Spencer, suddenly excited. 

Spencer thought for a moment, wondered what would stick out about their unsub. “How about someone who doesn't work under their degree? Like a manager of a store, or something like that?”

Another moment, every person in the room, waiting with anticipation, waiting for something, an answer, anything. 

“There's only one result.” 

‘Who?” 

“A Y/N Y/L/N. She works as a manager at a book shop, never takes any sick days, and has a 6-6 schedule every day.” 

It was silent for a moment. None of them knew what to say. 

“Maybe that's what we were missing,” JJ spoke up, “it's out of character for a woman, but I don't doubt that it's possible.” 

They all nodded in agreement, not wanting to start over again. 

At least this was a place to start. 

*

“Are we just going to arrest her?” 

After the discovery they had all decided to take a break, to take an hour for just themselves, to get lunch. 

Now it was back to the case. 

“We can't arrest her without any probable cause. As of now, we don't know enough about her to get a warrant.” 

A sigh ran across the room, filling all of the heads with hopelessness again. 

Until Emily spoke up, remembering something they’d done before, an idea popping into her brain. 

“What if we sent in an undercover agent?” 

She had asked Hotch, but everyone was debating it, thinking of the possibilities, the risks that could come with being that close to a murder, the past experiences. 

It could be a very bad idea, something could potentially happen to an agent, more victims could get killed, the unsub could stop killing at all.

But, it was one of the only options they had, besides waiting for more evidence to show up. 

“We sent someone in, and they get to know the unsub, they profile her behavior, gage her way of living, look for similarities. And undercover, they could get a lot more information than any of us could get by arresting her.” Emily went on, her mind running over the positives. 

Hotch sighed. He knew it wasn't something they often did, the BAU was used to getting through cases, used to arresting people immediately. But this was a special case, and he knew that it would only get worse and worse as long as they waited. 

But he wasn't sure. 

“We don't know what she's like, what if she suspects something? She could kill an agent.” He said, doubtful, stern. 

“So we send in a male agent, she isn't interested in males, she's less likely to kill them.” 

“We still don't know if she will even connect with a stranger, we don't know if she can connect with anyone. It won't be helpful if the agent can't get to know her.” 

“But, Hotch, we could still learn her schedule, we could learn about where she goes when she's not working. 

With each sentence that Emily said, they were all becoming more convinced. 

A nod went around the table, and they all looked to Hotch for confirmation. 

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, exhausted with the day, with the case, and nodded. 

Relief went around, all of them glad to finally have a plan. 

“So who do we send?” Rossi asked. 

There were dozens of agents they could send, plenty of them trained for this exact thing, but they were all looking around the room. They all knew the case best, they knew how to gage human behavior, they knew what they were supposed to look for in the unsub. 

It had to be one of them. 

“Prentiss and JJ can't go,” Derek said, looking at the two of them who looked relieved at the fact. 

‘And Hotch you can't go, you have to take care of Jack.” 

Rossi cleared his throat, his team members looked at him. “I’m taking my name out of the ballet. I’m too old for this,” he said, sending a laugh around the room. 

Derek sighed and looked at Hotch. “I don't think I’m a good choice. I’m more intimidating, and she would be more comfortable around someone her age.” 

They all silently looked to Spencer, who was looking down at his file, reading everything over again. 

It was only when Hotch cleared his throat that he looked up. 

“Reid? Are you comfortable going?” 

Spencer stared at him shocked. “Me?” he asked, his voice cracking. 

He wasn't good with people in general, and he’d never been good with girls. If they wanted to make the unsub comfortable, he was the worst option. 

“Come on kid,” Derek started, “You’re the closest to her age, you’re the most approachable. You’ll remember the most about her behavior, and you’ll learn her schedule quicker than any of us. Plus, you already know your way around Las Vegas.” 

The rest of the team nodded in agreement, while Spencer still looked terrified. 

“And plus,” Emily spoke up, hoping to convince Spencer, “She works at a bookstore.” 

Everyone but Hotch and Spencer laughed. 

Spencer was stuck. He didn't know how to talk to people, he didn't know how to get to know someone. He was only good with facts, and talking to an unsub- one that he was supposed to make comfortable -did not involve facts. 

But, he knew his team needed him, he knew that they were all stressed, that the others had taken the losses harder than he had. He knew that if he could do this if he could learn about this girl, the world would be clearer for his family. 

“Reid, I only want you to do this if you’re comfortable.” Hotch pulled Reid out of his thoughts, his eyes stern and unmoving. His voice was completely serious, and Spencer could hear hints of reassurance in his words. It was comforting to know that Hotch trusted him to make the right decision. 

Spencer took a deep breath. Reminded himself that his team trusted him too. 

“Alright. I’ll do it.” 

***

An apartment. 

They would get him an apartment. 

He would live in Las Vegas for as long as he deemed necessary. 

He would stay and he would learn everything he could about Y/N. 

He would profile her, send reports back to his team. 

He would try and talk to her. He would try to get to know her. 

He would change everything. 

He would do his job. 

He would talk to a girl. 

A girl. 

A murderer. 

A girl. He would have to talk to her. 

He would. 

A girl. 

“Hi, I’m Spencer.” 

***

reminder that this is part one, and its more of a introduction than the actual story

sorry if it sucked 

my masterlist: 

part two

[karmasuna]

》you have a crush on bobby pins

pairing; shinso x f!reader

genre; fluff

wordcount; 2235

synopsis; it’s shinso’s birthday and he gets a very peculiar gift from a mystery person.

a/n; wooooo it’s shinso day! this is purely self indulgent and also heavily inspired by this assclass karashuu fic by @/gwendee on ao3! they’re like my all time favorite writer yes i just-

“Happy birthday, Shinso!” 

“Thanks,” the purple haired boy glances back at the girl who had just walked past time, giving her a small smile just to be polite. 

He doesn’t know that girl, he thinks. Ever since he’s joined the hero course he’s been getting a lot more attention, which he guesses was to be expected. It’s not bad, he supposes, but it does stand in stark contrast from how they had treated him just a year ago, shunning him because of his quirk. It’s a nice change.

 Coming to a stop in front of his shoe locker, he opens it only to promptly be hit in the face by an onslaught of gifts and letters. Shinso sighs. 

“Isn’t this is a bit too much,” he mutters quietly as he bends down to pick them up, nose scrunching a little when he catches a whiff of all the combined perfumes the girls must have drowned their cards and presents in.

Behind him Kaminari whistles lowly, eyeing the small mountain. “Bro, you’re gonna catch up to Todoroki’s level in no time. That dude has two fanclubs just here at school, I seriously have no idea how he does it.”

Finally managing to get everything out of his locker he slips on his indoor shoes, tapping them gently the floor before looking up at the blonde, unamused. 

“Take whatever you want,” he gestures at the pile. “It’s not like I would be able to eat so much chocolate anyways. I don’t even like them that much.”

“Sweet,” the blonde flashes him a grin, already fishing out a bag from his backpack and wasting no time with shoving boxes in. “You’re the best.”

“You came prepared, didn’t you.” Shinso grabs the cards and envelopes, scanning through the names to see if anything catches his eye. Unsurprisingly, nothing does so he just tucks them away in his bag. Of course you hadn’t put something in his shoe locker, that’s just cliché.

Kaminari shrugs, standing up and heaving the bulging bag over his shoulder. “Bakugo never wants his presents either, so I’m ready for it.”

When he gets to the classroom he’s greeted by a chorus of birthday wishes and another small stack of gifts on his desk. These elicit a genuine smile from him. They’re from people who know him well and it shows in the unique presents they had each picked out. 

It’s sappy but the thought they put into the presents makes his heart warm, and he doesn’t even try to stop the fond smile creeping onto his face as he flips through the album Midoriya had given him, complete with cute little notes from everyone. 

His eyes widen when he gets to the bottom of the pile, looking at the small pouch in confusion. There’s a few bobby pins inside and a small scrap of notebook paper, unfolding it to see “happy birthday” hastily written in chicken scratch. Clearly whoever wrote it was either in a hurry or didn’t really put any effort into the gift.

It’s a strangely thoughtful present, he supposes. Maybe now his hair would finally stay out of his face even when he does his homework after school and his hair gel softens just enough to let a few wisps constantly poke at his eyes.

Shinso thinks long and hard about who possibly could have given him such a peculiar gift even as the school bell rings, tuning out Aizawa’s announcements as he gets lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning the room for any potential answers. 

There’s no way it could’ve been a boy. Last time he checked none of them were beauty gurus, and he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t know how to even use a bobby pin either, including himself.

So it was most likely a girl then. He finds his thoughts automatically drifts toward you, but he shoots the assumption down before it can even become an idea. Sure, out of all the girls he was definitely closest to you, but he’s convinced that you only talk to him because you feel sorry for his antisocial ass.

He sighs, burying his face in his hands. Now that he had jumped onto this thought train he can’t stop thinking about those stupid bobby pins. 

---

“Midoriya,” he later asks during class when he can’t take the curiosity anymore, “do you know if anyone in our class uses bobby pins?”

 Midoriya looks visibly confused from his strange question, and Shinso honestly doesn’t blame him at all. “Aren’t they really common? I’m not sure, but even Eri has some.”

That wasn’t helpful at all. Shinso thanks him anyways, and moves on to see if Kaminari and his habit of “observing” girls would be of any help. 

“Kaminari, I need you to help me find out who gave me bobby pins as a birthday present.”

The incredulous gaze he gets in response is definitely something he expected. “Um, what now?”

Shinso repeats himself, slower this time. The blonde still doesn’t seem to get it, so he pulls the small satchel out of his pocket and shows him. “Bobby pins,” he repeats, hoping Kaminari would connect the dots.

“Woah,” says Kaminari.

Shinso waits patiently to see if he had anything else to say. “That’s it? /Woah/?”

“I don’t know, man,” Kaminari peers at the little scrap of paper, studying the handwriting carefully. “I can help you ask around though. See what Jiro knows.”

---

Later that day after school he takes the bag out and puts it on his desk, staring at the small note that came with. He feels stupid for having used up most of his birthday thinking about bobby pins of all things. 

 “I need to know,” he tells himself before pulling out his phone and dialing.

 “The fuck you want, dipshit.” Bakugo picks up almost instantly, which Shinso is very thankful for.

“I need advice.”

“And you think I’m gonna help you like some shitty therapist? Fuck off, I don’t wanna hear you whine like a little bitch.”

Shinso waits a few moments, and when Bakugo doesn’t hang up he starts talking again. “I got bobby pins from someone in our class,” he begins. 

“Why do I need to know this.” The blonde sounds angry on the other end, so he decides to stoke his ego a little.

 “You don’t sugarcoat things, and I need you to tell me what I don’t want to hear. Not exactly something Midoriya can do.”

Bakugo snorts. “Damn right that shitty Deku’s useless. He’s fucking stupid.” 

“Yes,” Shinso agrees, “so help me out here.” 

And so he tells Bakugo everything. It’s not much given he really didn’t know anything about the mystery sender, but the blonde listens anyways, grunting occasionally to acknowledge his story.

“You have a crush on bobby pins,” Bakugo concludes when Shinso’s finished. 

“Say what now.” 

“You don’t know shit about whoever sent them but you can’t stop thinking about them. It’s pretty straightforward.”

The purple boy sighs loudly, not knowing what to say. Bakugo’s not wrong, really. It’s either that or-

“It’s either that or you have a crush on Y/N, since you obviously think she’s the one who gave them to you,” Bakugo says.

Shinso swears out loud. “I did not want to hear that,” he tells the other boy.

“Sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t have fuckin called me in the first place. This is a waste of time.” Bakugo doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“She doesn’t like me back.” At this point he doesn’t even bother hiding his crush on you anymore. If you were going to find out you would have ages ago.

“Why can’t you just ask her yourself and quit forcing me to listen to you whine like a little bitch.”

“Oh yeah.” He hadn’t even considered that an option. “I’ll definitely do that.”

“Cool. Can I leave now?”’

“Sure. Thanks, Bakugo.”

“I don’t want to hear your sappy shit,” is all he says before he hangs up. 

Shinso takes in a deep breath before pulling up your contact and quickly typing in a message, finger hovering on the send button, contemplating whether he should send such a dumb-sounding message and potentially weird you out. 

He’s still staring at the screen, his other hand going to brush hair from his eyes as he debates with himself.  

Suddenly there’s a knock at his door that snaps him out of his thoughts and makes him jump, resulting in his finger accidentally hitting the send button. Groaning in frustration, he gives himself five seconds to wallow in his regrets before getting up to open the door, definitely not expecting to see you there. 

“‘Toshi! I know it’s your birthday but it’s still Friday night, and you know what that means,” you grin at him, letting yourself in and flopping onto his bed. 

He closes the door and nods, sighing with the motion makes his hair fall into his eyes again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna force me to watch Haikyuu with you again.” 

You pout at him, scooting over to make space for him as you pull up the website on your laptop. “Don’t say it like you don’t enjoy it. I see the way you look whenever Yamaguchi gets to serve.”

“Shut up,” is all he says in response, but there’s no heat in his words.

“You aren’t denying it,” you say giddily, but your tone changes when you look at him and see him brushing hair out of his eyes again. 

“Didn’t you get the bobby pins his morning? Use them, geez,” you say casually as if it were no big deal.

Shinso freezes in his actions, trying to process what you had just said. “Yeah, I did,” he says carefully, trying not to give way the way his heart was racing in his chest, “how’d you know?”

Just then your phone pings, you laughing when you see his message. “Mhm, I put them there. If you’re not gonna use them then give ‘em back, I don’t wanna waste any. 

“Thanks,” he says, feeling oddly touched now that he knew it was really you. “I would use them but I don’t know how to.”

 You raise a brow, surprised by this new information. “Seriously? Don’t worry, I gotcha. Where are they?”

 Reaching over to grab a few from his desk he hands them to you, sitting still as you shuffle around to sit between his legs, carefully gathering the stray locks and twisting them gently. “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

 His brain is short-circuiting from how close you suddenly are. He can practically smell your shampoo, and seeing you so pretty and focused up close doesn’t help him calm his heart at all. 

 Your lips look really kissable right now, he thinks to himself. If he just tilted his head up the smallest of fractions your lips would meet, but he’s too afraid of ruining your friendship.

 “Damn, you really put a lot of effort into getting me a present,” he murmurs, “with the chicken scratch and all.”

 “Shush, you know how bad I am with birthdays. Be grateful I got you anything at all.”

 “Wow, I’m so touched,” he retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes at how you had just blatantly admitted you didn’t remember his birthday, “guess this means I don’t have to get you that Oikawa figure for your birthday then.” 

 He chuckles when he feels you freeze up from his words. “What? You literally gave me your own pins and told me to give them back. What kind of a crappy birthday present is that?”

 “No, please. I need my Tooru,” you whine, voice smaller than before. “I’ll get you something, anything I can afford, okay? Just tell me what you want.”

 He hums, thinking about his options,  waiting for you to get back to work on his hair before speaking up again. “Anything?”

 “Anything my wallet can handle,” you clarify, mock glaring at him as you pull at the strands roughly, making him grunt in pain. “Okay okay, I got it, chill.”

 “I don’t think what I want is going to hurt your wallet at all,” he breathes, studying your reaction to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. 

 “Mhm,” you say, not really paying attention to his words as you slide the last bobby pin into his hair, “I’m done! What do you want then-”

 You’re interrupted by him tilting his head up ever so slightly to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss. Gasping in surprise, you don’t even have time to react before he pulls back, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. 

 “Um, I’m sorry,” he begins, but this time you cut him off, throwing your hands around him and grinning.

 “For what, stupid? Kiss me again.”

 There’s no denying your words set his cheeks away, but he swallows before leaning back in to connect your lips again. Hands carefully snaking their way around your waist and pulling you even closer, holding you so gently as if he were afraid you would shatter or disappear. 

 “I really like you,” Shinso whispers when you pull apart, bumping his nose gently against yours.

 “I like you a lot too, ‘Toshi,” you grin, “happy birthday.” 

 He hums in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Best birthday ever.”

---

“I should just give you my phone case or something for your birthday.”

 “What the hell? Our phones aren’t even the same model!”

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 7

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 7)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The secret history of Logan and Roman begins to come to light while little pieces of Roman's world start to fall apart around him, resulting in a late night confrontation that exposes Roman's role in reuniting Virgil with his big brother.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and future Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: MORE CHAPTERS INCOMING, ‘cause this was getting super bloated. IDK, I just have a lot of feelings, and I’m rushing ‘cause I want the boys to kiss and be happy so I can start my series of smutty one-shots...I mean, what? >.> <.< XD

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1020, A.A.

“Hold on...just hold on...”

It took all his effort to stay calm, keeping the rhythm of his compressions steady the way Remus taught him. It was different, watching his twin tap-tap-tap the chest of a tiny kitten and blowing a careful stream of air into its snout—this was a boy, an entire person and his skin was pale as marble, lips tinged the blue of Father's lapis ring...

The body under his hands spasmed, a gush of water suddenly erupting from his mouth. Thinking as quickly as he could, Roman tipped the boy's head to the side so he could spit the water on the grass beside the river that ran behind the palace, and not swallow it back into his lungs—but you couldn't swallow things into your lungs, could you? Was it wrong? Was he doing this wrong?

...pulse. He should feel for a pulse, right? That's what Remus said...

Roman pressed fingers to the boy's throat, sagging when he felt the rapid flutter of a heartbeat there...at least until the boy twisted away and scrambled back, still hacking and shaking from the chill air and his sodden clothing.

Blue eyes met green, and eleven year old Prince Roman Sanders was struck breathless by the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his short life.

“Careful—it's all right, I won't hurt you.” he soothed, raising his hands and remaining on his knees. “I just want to make sure you're okay.”

The other boy blinked, water dripping off clumped eyelashes like diamonds falling to roll down his wet cheeks. He had jet black hair, plastered to his head, and even with his heart beating again, his skin was still so pale. His eyes sparkled like the river water itself, clear and bright and so blue it almost hurt to look at them.

“I...was dead.” the other boy hiccuped, bringing a hand to his chest as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I...well, yeah. I mean, your heart wasn't beating, so I used the vital breath to make it start again. My brother taught me.”

The boy blinked, his thin but well formed lips drawing into a curious pout that made him flinch, made him reach up and touch his lower lip—sporting a shallow cut that matched one on Roman's, where he'd been a little too forceful pressing his mouth to the boy's so he could force air into his lungs.

“You...you brought me back from the dead.”

Roman blinked—but when he said it like that, he supposed that he had. Wow.

“I didn't use magic.” he said instead of...literally anything else. “I swear it.”

“On the Spider's Thread?”

“What's that?”

“The bond that unites souls.” the boy explained. “It's the most sacred oath in the world, 'cause if you break it the Fates will tear you from the Living Tapestry.”

“What's the Living Tapestry?” Roman asked, shifting to edge closer to the boy.

“The world.” he replied through chattering teeth. “And all the people in it...and you stopped them. You stopped Fate.”

“But—I didn't use magic. I didn't...really stop Fate, I...I just...you were floating in the river, and—I had to try.” Roman explained, feeling strange with all this talk of bonded souls and raising the dead, and how pretty the boy was.

“Is...is that okay?”

The boy watched him with a look Roman couldn't make heads or tails of...but after a moment he nodded.

“It's okay.” he assured him, shifting onto his knees slowly.

“Good.” Roman replied, then winced a little when the clickclickclickclick of the boy's chattering teeth became audible.

“You're so cold—you'll catch your death without some dry clothes.” He looked down at himself—equally wet from diving into the river to pull the boy out. “I could bring you back to the palace to dry off and--”

“I can't go there.”

Roman flinched at the forceful way he said it, harsh and tinged with fear. He didn't need to be his brother to connect the dots.

The boy knew a lot about death magic, and he was afraid of the palace. He was Necromata...but he was small and beautiful and shivering, and he wasn't sure anyone so awestruck by the vital breath, of all things, could be as evil as he'd been raised to believe.

Could they?

Roman thought for a moment, then struggled to his feet and started pulling off his tailored white tunic, leaving him in a simple black cotton undershirt.

“What--”

“I'm going to walk you home.” Roman insisted. “You're in no shape to be by yourself—and if I'm dressed like a citizen, no one will recognize me as a prince! You'll be safe.”

The boy watched him as he finished stripping off anything that would mark him as nobility, even discarding his boots so he was walking barefoot. When he was done, the boy was still kneeling on the ground, just...staring at him.

“What?”

“You said 'citizen.' Not 'commoner.'”

Roman made a face. “I don't like the word. I don't think people are common—I like to watch the roads from my bedroom window and imagine all the stories that the people who travel them have to tell. Common people are boring, and how can anyone with so many stories be boring?”

The boy hesitated, but finally started to get to his feet.

“Thank you...apologies. I don't know which prince you are.”

“Roman. I'm Prince Roman.” he offered, extending his hand to the boy to help him up. “And I swear—by the Spider's Thread—that I will see you home safe.”

Regarding the hand thoughtfully, the boy reached up to take it.

“Salutations, Your Highness. I am Logan Crofter.”

Their fingers touched—and Roman's heart froze when the other boy screamed.

********** 1033, A.A.

“At the end of the day, Your Majesty, the truth will come out: you're not merely a pawn of the necromancer. You're in league with him—and the Sanders line will fall from power. After all, twins don't long survive the death of their other half—or so the stories say.”

The words were going to haunt Roman long past the resurrection of his father—then again, so was the broken hand that still throbbed where he'd punched the court mage in a fit of blind fury.

“Roman!”

He stopped in his tracks, finally allowing himself to take stock of his surroundings: he was storming down the corridor that would lead to the north wing, where Patton and Logan were being kept. Head still spinning with the angry shouts and protests of both royal advisors and soldiers loyal to Colonel Mori, he'd fled the crowded throne room after breaking the mage's jaw with only the sound of his brother's cackling to comfort him.

Without his permission, his feet were trying to carry him towards the necromancer—towards Logan.

The one who was depending on him. The one who was helping him...the one...

Footsteps pounded behind him. His eternal, steady awareness of his own twin was all that kept Roman from being startled by the hand that grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Roman.”

Remus stood there in front of him, hands on his shoulders, wearing an uncharacteristically sober expression. For one moment, in his mind's eye he saw Logan and Virgil, somewhere in the palace, having a similar encounter—the image had clung to the back of his thoughts since a discreet intrusion from Remy let him know that Logan was okay, his hope for both of them a fantasy he couldn't stop himself from willing into reality.

Logan had his brother back. Virgil had his...the notion of it made Roman ache, brought him dangerously close to thinking about things he couldn't entertain. Not a hint, not even a memory.

Hold on.

Do not let go.

I never have...I never will.

Roman was clutching at Remus's hands on his shoulders before he could stop himself, staring down his twin. For a second, Remus's eyes widened and his gaze grew distant—looked at him like he wasn't there, didn't seem to see him through whatever wheels were turning in his head...

Then the wall came down, his hands slid away from Roman's...his arms opened, and Roman collapsed into them. He felt the tears fall, then stream, then shook with sobs torn from his marrow. The dangerous memories fell away, replaced instead by the chill of the king's lifeless body, the stillness in Roman's arms, the stiffness of rigor setting in as he held him close before the guards forced him back into the castle.

His father was dead.

Father was dead.

Father was dead.

In the heart of the palace, Roman came apart, and Remus gently put him back together with strong arms, soft words, and shared pain.

********** 1021, A.A.

“You're sure this is all right?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I wish it.”

The pair were walking by the river, Logan's request. He wouldn't tell Roman anything more than that he had to do something as part of his training, and that he wanted Roman's help. Logan's Grandpap didn't know he was doing it, Roman lied about being sick to get out of his lessons and sneak out for the afternoon...

It was confusing as hell, and Roman would be a lot more afraid of the chances he was taking if it were anyone but Logan asking him to do this.

“But what if your Grandpap finds out about...whatever we're doing, and you get in trouble?” Roman protested.

“Then he can...”

Logan trailed off and stopped walking with a  frown before fumbling with uncharacteristic clumsiness to reach into his pocket for the vocabulary cards that had been a staple since Roman started teaching him outsider slang. The clumsiness came from reaching into his right pocket with his left hand—because his right hand was busy being firmly enmeshed with Roman's.

“...'deal.'” Logan finished once he'd pulled the cards out and read the top one. Glancing up to meet Roman's gaze, he offered him the small, triumphant smirk that anyone else might read as arrogant confidence. Roman knew it was all Logan allowed himself in moments of triumph—pride in the hard-won victories.

“You've been studying.” Roman observed, doing a miserable job of hiding a smile.

Logan stopped in his tracks, released Roman's hand, and shuffled through the vocabulary cards for another one, speaking as he displayed it for Roman's evaluation.

“'Duh.'”

Roman dissolved into giggling, and on impulse reached out, pulling Logan into a hug. The ten year old boy immediately tensed, breath stilling at the unexpected embrace.

Roman didn't let go, but he did loosen his arms for Logan's benefit. He waited to see if he'd bolt or...

Roman watched the vocabulary card flutter to the ground as Logan let them go, and very deliberately wrapped his arms around Roman's waist, laying his cheek against Roman's shoulder. He was still tense, but held on.

“Too much?” Roman asked softly.

“Yes.” Logan replied.

“Hurts?”

“Yes.”

“Should I stop?”

“...no. I...”

“Breathe, Logan. Remus says it's important to breathe—and important to take it slow 'cause you're touch starved.” Roman reminded him. “I'm sorry I didn't ask first, but I really don't want to hurt you. I'll let go if you ask me to.”

“I know, just...”

“What is it, Logan?”

“...more.”

The way his voice fractured and his arms reflexively tightened broke something inside of Roman as he did as he was asked: held tighter, pressed his face to Logan's hair, stood still and gave hugging his best friend his whole attention.

That was the moment Logan let out a shaky sigh and sagged in Roman's arms. He didn't know what it was, but he had to be thinking about touching Logan for it to stop hurting. Sometimes it was still too warm and too overwhelming, but it didn't seem to hurt him as bad when he was just standing there, willing his whole attention into Logan.

“...it's the Warping.”

Roman frowned a little, lifting his head just enough to rest his cheek against Logan's hair instead of his whole face. “What?”

“The Warping.” Logan repeated quietly, his breath puffing warm against Roman's neck. “I must commune with the dead as part of my training. The fiber strung onto the loom for weaving is called the warp, while the fiber that is strung across this is called the weft. The Warping is preparing myself to learn how to find the Loom of Memory—a state of consciousness where I can work my power properly.”

Roman nodded against Logan's head. “What do I need to do?”

“Just be with me...technically, I am supposed to do it alone, but I researched the ritual, and it is believed that, in the Old Times, a Weaver could bring their Animata to the Warping.”

“But I'm not an Animata.”

“No, but the Animata's defining characteristic was that they were twin souls—and you are a twin. I believe your presence will be acceptable.” Logan replied. “I...am supposed to acclimate myself to the emotions of the dead. It's not really my strongest area—feelings—and...”

Logan didn't finish. Just held on, tensing a little, then relaxing—leaning into Roman's embrace.

“You're afraid.” Roman finished for him softly.

“Fear is an emotion. I feel nothing.” Logan insisted petulantly—and it was petulant with the way he huffed soft against Roman's neck. “Necromancers have no souls with which to feel.”

“So you keep saying.”

“It's true.”

Silence fell again.

“...if I had a soul, however...I would entrust it to you.”

Roman felt something in his stomach tremble at that, soft and shivery and bright.

“Swear it on the Spider's Thread?” he asked softly.

Logan didn't answer right away—as he did with things he was never terribly sure of.

“Grandpap says that the Spider's Thread is woven by Fate, not by magic.” he replied instead of a real answer.

Roman fell silent at that, just holding onto Logan and trying to ignore the way that having Logan close like this, pledging him his non-existent soul, quiet breaths on his neck and head on his shoulder made his chest warm, made his heart do pleasant, squirmy things in his chest.

“Do...you believe in Fate, Logan?” he asked softly, not sure why he suddenly felt like holding his breath. Fortunately, he didn't have to.

Like most things Logan knew—which was almost everything—he answered immediately.

“I have since I met you.”

********** 1033, A.A.

Roman couldn't sleep that night—which was a good thing, seeing as how his room was invaded at three AM.

It happened silently, but he was emotionally raw and vaguely paranoid after what had happened to his father, after the threats made against him and all he cared for by the members of his own guard, his own court—or, perhaps, he just felt Logan's magic still teeming in his veins, keeping his heart beating and his lungs full of air. Maybe the nearness of him set something off, magic calling to magic.

One moment, the dark was empty and gaping like the hole in his chest that lingered ever since his breakdown in the halls with Remus, and the next it opened wider before filling with a presence that teased him with both the promise of danger and comfort.

When the blade touched his throat, he already had his hand under the pillow.

“Virgil, don't.”

Roman expected Logan's voice—he did not, however, expect that Logan had company.

Snapping his fingers to call to life the luminaries in his room, Roman sat up and pulled his hand out from under his pillow, a dagger in his hand and pressed to the hollow of the cadet's throat. Virgil hissed—actually hissed out loud—and backpedaled, his own dagger dragging a thin line against the side of Roman's throat.

“OW! You venomous little shit!” he spat, touching his bleeding neck as he blinked against the onslaught of light.

His hand was jerked away, and cool fingers probed his throat with deft, clinical precision. Abruptly, his head grew foggy with something akin to sleep, but cold and light...Logan's magic working, taking control of him again.

“Relax—I'm not taking your mind, I'm healing you.”

“You're what?! Logan, you're a Weaver! You can't heal!”

Roman had to work at it a little, but his free hand lifted to rub his eyes. When he let it fall again, he had  Logan sitting on the edge of his bed, hand pressed to his chest just below his collarbone, eyes lit up with that dazzling blue-white, misty light again.

“Apparently, I can when I'm animating someone.” Logan pointed out, lifting his hand and running it along Roman's throat. The touch, with Logan so close, raised gooseflesh on his skin—and there was a lot of it, given Roman slept only in loose trousers and nothing else.

Virgil leaned in as he sheathed his dagger, his eyes going wide. “Ohhhhhh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit...”

Roman reached up, following the trail Logan's palm had taken—and found no trace of the wound. Not even a scar remained.

What troubled him was that Virgil was right. It wasn't something Roman was allowed to know, something he couldn't glean from the things he read in secret or the tidbits Remus shared from his Anima lovers...and he couldn't communicate how he knew.

Logan looked at Virgil pointedly over his shoulder, then turned back to Roman when his brother fell silent again.

“I apologize for the unexpected arrival, but Virgil insisted on secrecy once he realized he'd been exposed.”

“E-exposed?” Roman stammered, his head still spinning with surprise, the lingering effects of Logan's power, and very genuine confusion. “I don't understand.”

“Yeah, you do.” Virgil snapped, folding his arms. “You knew who I was before Master Picani felt my connection to Logan and outed me in the war room. That's how I got in, and with a shard of Necromatic magic hidden in a healing object, no less.”

Roman felt his blood run cold, and in a manner that was anything but light or misty like Logan's magic.

“Don't deny it: I asked around after Logan got back to Patton this evening. You personally cleared me when I applied to join the guard. Pair that with the fact that Logan remembers the night he was arrested? And you're lucky he stopped me from killing you.”

The world stopped turning in that instant. Everything came to a halt, from the spinning of the earth to the beating of his heart as he met Logan's eyes—those crystal blue depths that he barely kept at bay, the swirling tempest that he restrained for ten years...

Roman balled his hands into fists and tried to remember how to breathe again around the nameless emotion trying to claw its way out of his heart.

“You...remember me, Logan?”

Logan just stared at him, features inscrutable. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed—he was thinking, he was...uncertain.

“I was half conscious in the war room.” he finally replied. “The Spider's Thread—Virgil told me what that oath references. I...I don't remember you, but I feel certain you swore that oath for a reason.”

The nameless feeling in his heart grew claws, ripped and tore and drew blood.

“I did.”

“...how long have we known each other?”

“Ten years. Since the night we met in the dungeon.”

“And in total?”

Roman shut his eyes, bowing his head to avoid that look, those eyes that would unmake him.

“...thirteen. We've known each other for thirteen years.”

[writing-mermaid]

Siren, part 2 : Concentrating my moves, I'm on a mission

Summary : Y/N is a mutant, a Siren, the last of her kind, with deadly dangerous powers and a hidden past. If most of the Avengers likes and get along with her, Steve doesn’t, and it’s getting worse when Y/N and Bucky become close. After all what can bring two broken souls together if it’s not a dark past.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings : Fight, mention of injuries and blood. 

Word Count : 1 643

Square Filled : @buckybarnesbingo : Free square

Author’s note : Second part, I hope you guys will still like it. Thanks for the few responses I had for first part and I hope this will not disappoint you. This story my entry for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge, the prompt I chose is Siren AU. I also made a library blog in case the tags don’t work, so feel free to follow @writing-mermaids-library and to turn the notifications to know when I post something new here. Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Bad Blood - Jess Glynne

Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Bingo masterlist

Siren masterlist

Buy me a ☕

A little more than an hour later, I make the plane land a few feet away from HYDRA's warehouse.

  “So, what's the plan ?”, Bucky asks, looking down at me.

“I don't really know”, I answer, tucking one of my blue strands, one of the results of my mutation, the only visible sign, behind my left ear. So, if you see a girl with Y/H/C hair scattered with blue hair, that's me. “Maybe we just get in, being careful that nobody sees us, take pictures and probably blow up whatever they're up to.”

“Sounds like a plan”, he answers, a half smile on his lips, pushing the button that opens the back of the Quinjet, before going outside, a gun in his hand.

  I grab my fight sticks, same kind as those as Natasha has, and follow him. It's a total wasteland. No sign of life except around the HYDRA facility. We silently move to the fence, once there, I take out of my belt a tiny scissor to cut it.

  “Lady's first”, Bucky whispers, holding it for me, and I lightly step through the opening I made.

  We slowly walk to one of the entries. Bucky slips behind one the guards and knocks him out, while I take care of the second guard, by poisoning him with my fingers with the sleeping poison I have in my body, just by wrapping my hand around his ankle. Well, I hope for him that it's the sleeping poison or in a few minutes, he’s going to be stone dead.

  “There are two locks for that door. They have to be open in sync.”

“And they need this”, I say, rising on my feet, with two opening cards in my hands.

“Well done, Siren”, he smirks at me.

“Please, don't call me that, Winter Soldier”, I answer, matching his facial expression.

  Siren, that’s the made-up name the Avengers, well Nat, gave me when I was recruited. And she’s right I’m a Siren, the literal definition, or almost. I literally can enchant men and women and kill them. I’m deadly dangerous, even if I look like an innocent and fragile thing, that’s why I have to take suppressors and why I don’t let anyone touch me. The only one that never were affected by my power were my parents and some members of my family, because we shared the same blood.

  “Ready ?”, he asks, and I nod, “one, two, three.”

  We slide the cards at the same time and the door opens. Bucky looks inside, before nodding towards me, a silent way to say that the pathway is clear. We both step inside and look around, Bucky with his assault gun between his hands, my glowing sticks in mine. We progress in the facility silently, trying to not get detected by HYDRA's henchmen. Bucky opens the path and I follow him, watching our back. We finally step into a huge room, full of alembics.

  “What the hell is that ?”, I hear Bucky whispering.

  We progress in the room, looking closer at the see-through containers. Some are full of a transparent liquid, the others of some kind of colored gaz.

  “I don't know”, I murmur back, “but I'm not really reassured by this.”

  A loud bang makes Bucky grab my arm and suddenly, I'm trapped between a wall and his toned, muscular body. I raise my head and my gaze crosses his bright blue eyes.

  “What...”

  He shushes me by putting a finger on his mouth, ordering me to stay silence. I hardly dare to breath.

  “Fuck, can't you be more careful with this ?”, a male voice yell.

“Sorry, it's heavier than I thought”, a second male voice answer. “Anyway, what's in that ? What's that gas ? Is it dangerous ?”

“I don't know, but look it's leaking, you might have unscrewed the plug”, the first one tells his comrade. “Seriously, we were just supposed to take this from point A to point B, but you had to drop it. Now put the cap back on and stop asking stupid question.”

  I breath heavily, afraid to be discovered, because, I'm less stealth than Bucky, when he's at least two or three times bigger than me. I can almost feel every muscles of his body against mine through my suit. Bucky must feel my panic because he takes one of my gloved hands in his, plunging his eyes into mine. The two HYDRA hands men finally leave, and he steps back.

  “It was a close call !”, he says.

“Yes, thanks.”

  I walk past him and try to see if something is written in front of the containers. I can hear Bucky sighing behind me.

  “This thing smells strange, don't you think ?”, he questions me.

“No, I don't think it smells weird”, I answer, trying to have a clue on what are the gas and liquid stocked here. “I don’t even smell anything, just HYDRA’s awful smell.”

  I continue to look around. There's no clue about anything. Suddenly, a pair of lips are attached to the nape of my neck.

  “What the hell are you doing Barnes ?!”

“You smell so good. You're intoxicating me”, he says, burying his nose in my hair.

“Let go of me”, I hiss, trying to unhook his arms that he snaked around me.

“Come on”, he adds, “I want it and I know you do too”, he slide his left hand to my arm in order to lift my sleeve to touch my skin.

“Stop it !”, I clench my teeth, knowing that I can’t get rid of the man who at least weight three or four times my own weight.

“You’re driving me crazy, that smell, of yours, I can’t resist it.”

  And it clicks in my head, the last time I heard this was before I had suppressors, before those who worked, a scientist said those exact words to me, and everything his clear. That gas is made of either my blood, either my cells. This has exactly the same power as I do, the one that makes everyone uncontrollably attracted to me. I try to make up a plan to get rid of Bucky without hurting, or worst, kill him. The dots of my brain connect quickly with an idea.

  “Actually”, I tell him, turning in his arms, “I think you have read my mind and you and I can have a little fun, don’t you think ?”, I wink at him seductively, sliding my hands on his strong arms. “So first, why don’t you kiss me”, I whisper, approaching my face to his, my lips grazing his.

  My left hand stays on his right arm while my left hand finds its way on the back of his neck. He leans towards me and I push a little on his nape to force him to lock his mouth to mine. His lips are soft against mine and I’m surprised about this, I never thought that Bucky Barnes would have such soft lips. His lips are moving against mine and as I did for the HYDRA hand man, I concentrate to make him sleep, or Steve Rogers will have one more reason to hate me. Well, I think that the fact that I put his best friend to sleep by a kiss during a mission might be one too. After a few seconds, I feel him stumble towards my body. I try my best to catch him before he falls flat on his face.

  “Sorry Barnes”, I murmur, “but you didn’t give me a choice.”

I manage to drag him behind one of the alembics, praying that no one will find him or that he will wake up too soon and try to jump on me again. I pull out of my pouches a few bombs and their detonators. I start to place them around the tanks, moving as fast as I can and program them. Five minutes should be enough for me to pull Bucky outside and go back to the Quinjet.

  “Ok, now let’s take care of you 1940’s man”, I state, turning to where I left Bucky before setting my bombs.

  I grab his metal arm and start to haul him to the Quinjet. He is heavy and I do this task as fast and as quietly as I can. I finally manage to go back to the fence and push the soldier through it. I take a look at the device connected to the bombs’ detonators, I have a few seconds now before the bombs explode. I go back to my burden and pull him again to the jet. I don’t see on the way back the two men we knocked out when we arrived, and to be honest, I don’t really have time to think about it. I don’t even reach the jet’s door when the warehouse explodes throwing me a few meters away from Bucky’s sleeping form. I land badly on my right hand felling it twist under my weight, and blood flowing from my left hand. Maybe I shouldn’t have put so many explosive blocs, but I wanted to be sure that everything would be destroyed. I can’t straggle, I have to put Bucky in the jet and leave that place before HYDRA’s men come after us. I go back on my feet and manage, clenching my teeth because of the pain, to pull the Winter Soldier again, the blood of my hand drenching his sleeve. I open the jet’s door with the button on my belt, bless Tony for that, and pull a little more my sleeping partner. I abandon him on the ramp, heavily panting while the door closes. I can’t even breathe for a second because I know that we have to leave now. I take back my place behind the commands and take off.

Taglist :

@the-geeky-engineer, @feelmyroarrrr, @winterschild999, @realgreglestrade, @hellomissmabel, @mandy19875, @howlingbarnes, @belleetlabeast, @theashhole, @sebbytrash, @crazychick010, @bionic-buckyb, @callamint, @just-another-fangirl777, @learisa, @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt, @mokacoconut, @marvelbase001-blog, @thefiregypsy, @snowyseba, @theycallmebucky, @buckysberrie, @speakcroissant, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @tequilavet, @iamwarrenspeace, @melconnor2007, @jamesbarnesappreciationclub, @mrshopkirk, @poealsobucky, @maiden-of-gondor, @jurassicbarnes, @abovethesmokestacks, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @arawynn, @sebbys-girl, @captainrogerss, @murdocksmartinis, @supersoldierslover, @totallynotashieldagent, @crazy-little-thing-called-buck, @4theluvofall, @supernaturaldean67, @prettyyoungtragedy, @papi-chulo-bucky, @just-a-kj-blog, @lenavonschweetz,  @forever-graphically-frozen,  @buckysglow, @winterscldicr, @whothehellisbella, @bethanystan​, @asirenscalling​, @after-avenging-hours​, @winchester-with-wings​, @angryschnauzer​,  @callingmrsbarnes​, @suz-123​, @writingruna​, @sugardaddytonystark​, @angelicthor​, @thatawkwardtinyperson​, @themistsofmyavalon​, @redgillan​, @loricameback​, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​, @farfromjustordinary​, @you-and-buckyb​, @bucky-made-me-do-it​, @lovelykhaleesiii​, @newmooneyfanfiction​, @lovely-geek​, @fanfictionjunkie1112​, @thefanficfaerie​, @littlemarvelfics​, @cordytriestowrite​, @firefly-in-darkness​, @caplanreads​, @my-emotional-self​, @searchingforbuckyfavs​, @buckybabybaby​, @i-alyssa​,

[kyu-bri]

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@myrtenast3r J \ A \

II

COME LOOKIE PAW I CAUGHT ONE!

*ahem*

A quick giant rundown!!!!

Mami is a well-todo 15yr old girl of the 80s. She is very much in love with her Real Actual Explicitly Romantic Girlfriend Kyoko.

Mamis father is a medical scientist, currently working on a project to create synthetic organs and tissues for ailing people. He has recently teamed his efforts with an engineer with an affinity for Purple. I do not remember if purple guy made the animatronics but in my defense we recast who purple guy is believed to be every year.

Kyoko's father runs a very liberal unorthodox church, that believes in blasphemous things like Gay Is Okay and Abortion Is Not Murder

People murder Kyokos family over this

Mami finds her gfs church burning down, Kyoko the only one still alive- but severely burned and not hanging around for long

Kyoko stops breathing before they get to the hospital, and Mamis father, in panic and sympathy for his hysterical daughter, takes her into his lab and hooks her up on life support, he sets to calcifying her insides and rebuilding her bodyfunctions from the inside out.

The result is calcified balljointed skin and a brain full of electrified wire. Kyoko wakes up stoic and moving stiffly, slowly relearning how to articulate and react. The only semblance of her old self is being able to identify Mami, giving her joy and hope, and Mamis father severe anxiety.

Mamis father is secretly horrified at his frankensteinish recreation of a dead girl, he cancels his research afraid of what people might do if they could become completely synthetic, sentient machines. His engineering partner however, suggests ways to keep his discoveries from going to waste- by using them for entertainment purposes

Mostly headed by his partner, the Tomoe family opens a family restaurant business, quickly becoming renown for its state of the art animatronic technology, and by children for its adorable red showgirl

Mamis parents are killed in a sudden accident, leaving her as heiress to the business accompanied only by her stoic, ribbon covered stage singer girlfriend, and the creepy animatronic mechanic

Children start going missing

Mami discovers her fathers old partner has trained her undead android girlfriend to kidnap and murder children in addition to song and dance. Mami thinks thats fucked up

Dude turns on Mami but Kyoko kills him first.

Mami shuts down the business in grief and becomes a recluse, as some time passes she becomes unable to even confide in her girlfriend, now ex as Mami grows up and Kyokos left unaging with an electric brain that can only learn whats programmed, which would be creepy otherwise

A few years later, Madoka Kaname and timid Homura Akemi break into the closed down business. Homuras fondest childhood memories are of this establishment, and Madoka loves Homura very much.

Mami never figured out how to unteach Kyoko how to murder unattended children

Madoka is dead, as Mami frantically apologizes and scolds RoboKyoko and apologizes for the scolded RoboKyoko, Homura figures out what RoboKyoko is, she begs Mami to make Madoka the same. Mami can't pretend she hasn't learned the technology for different motives.

As she slowly rebuilds Madoka, Homura resigns herself to the same fate. She volunteers herself to become as Madoka will so she might always look after her.

Madoka reanimates somewhat more vacant and robotic then Kyoko, she learns the showtunes quickly though. In contrast, Homura is distressingly more aware, though discernably focussed on her only desire to keep Madoka safe. Mayhaps a side effect of being changed when both alive and knowing what was to come.

Considerably more traumatized now, Mami concludes that these girls need something to do with themselves. She reopens the restaurant.

She hires a security guard for the nightshift

Sayaka needed a summer job to distract her from her teenage angst and was pretty willing to work just for free pizza

The animatronics walking around at night and really wanting to get into her office is a great distraction

Sayaka isn't scared of ghosts nor death at this point though so she eventually confronts them. They just want to play with her. They're very lonely in the dark.

Sayaka suddenly recognizes Madoka as a missing girl at her school from a few months back. Sayaka is aware of the missing children rumors back when the place shut down in 87 and connects some dots.

Mami is here to relieve Sayaka of her post

Kyoko has learned that Murder Is Bad.

She stops Mami from harming Sayaka and forces the girls to come to a truce amongst their arguing. Sayaka has to promise not to tell the police about Mamis zombie performers and Mami not to kill her.

They're both lying

Mami leaves to let Sayaka find her way out. Going to the control room she *accidentally* triggers a security door Sayaka was just then walking through

But swiftly after, Homura prys the door open, and Kyoko lifts the unconsious girl and carries her to the lab. All while a ballet dancing Madoka pirouettes after them singing how everythings going to be alright.

Homura gets to saving the nearly eviscerated Sayaka.

Mami is confronted by Kyokos blankly staring face and does not interfere.

Sayaka is given a beautiful sparkling tail, and begrudgingly Mami installs a gel pool into the pirate themes play area. Though she does manage to communicate to Homura that Sayakas voicebox is much too dangerous to carry over

The building reopens the next week, though pirate bay is closed until they can be sure their new member can behave.

Sayaka is not stoic or stiff, she stays put and behaves largely out of the Depression

Mami does not advertise for another night guard

She gets saddled with one though. Two actually, this angry rich girl is very persuasive but really wants her dull boyfriend to be there to help her out.

Hitomi wants to find out what happened to Sayaka.

Kyosuke does not want to be here.

Djjsisjdisishdisus K THERE WE GO

I'll probably draw shit and update with it + a readmore later lmao

Cliffhanger there so I'm not spoiling the entIRE story if I wanna do anything for it later lmao

[garbagevanfleet]

Learn To Leave A Room (series)

PART TWO 

Pairing: Jake & female!Reader Warnings: general sexiness, but nothing too risque yet Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it. Notes:  oh my god, im sorry guys. sexual tension is my favorite thing in the whole world. 

MASTERLIST

“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.” — Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “How to Grow the Brightest Geranium,” published in Breakwater Review

“Obviously you have to talk to him.” 

Despite being nearly noon, it’s still too early for this conversation. Lucy has dragged you back to the diner, hoping to nurse your collective hangovers with some coffee and a greasy breakfast, but all you had really wanted to do was crawl into your own bed.

“You can’t just leave things like they are. I mean, he is still your boyfriend until you actually break up with him, right?” she tries again. You know she’s right. She’s always so insightful about these kinds of things, and hung-over you is a little annoyed by her sound logic. 

You had told her a very selective recounting of what had happened last night, leaving out anything to do with Jake. You weren’t ever planning on telling her the rest.

You and Lucy had stayed over at the Kiszka residence, cuddled up together on the couch, but you - very luckily - did not have to see anyone else before you had left. 

“I know. I will eventually,” you assure, staring down at the half-eaten cheeseburger you ordered and wondering if you can take another bite. You opt instead to pick at it with your fork. “Mostly I want him to have to think about it all for a while. Get in his own head.”

She giggles at you. “Mind games,” she says in the way of agreement. She’s silent for a moment as you watch her stir her milkshake with her straw. “I’m sorry he did that to you. I could tell that you didn’t want to invite him; I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You shake your head at her. “It’s so not your fault. I think it’s good that I figured out who he really is early on. You know, before I actually got to like him.”

“You didn’t really like him?” Her tone is sheepish. 

You shake your head. “It was fun at first, but no. I will miss the regular sex though,” you add, making her laugh. 

“Well, I guess you’ll have to just kick him to the curb and get back out there. You’re going to find someone that’s going to treat you right.”

You nod in agreement and give her a thankful smile, but somehow you feel that you won’t be joining the dating scene for a while. 

+++

Mitch never does text you, so you decide you won’t either. It feels a little unresolved, but you’re honestly grateful to not have to deal with the confrontation. He had never left anything at your house, and you hadn’t taken more than one or two pictures together, so you forget about him pretty easily.

You do feel anxious off and on, but you don’t think it’s from the breakup. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you pick up an extra-long shift at the cafe to fill your time. Fall is the start of the busy season for baristas, so you very infrequently have a moment to dwell on anything at work. 

After a long day of steaming and steeping, you cannot wait to get home and wash off. The most you ever feel like yourself is in the shower - it’s always a mental cleansing process just as much as a physical one. Soft music starts to play from the speaker on the bathroom counter as you connect your phone. 

You turn the water to the perfect temperature to warm you up from the walk home, and it feels borderline euphoric as you step under the spray. You let the water wash over you, but the second you close your eyes, you snap them back open with an anxious feeling. 

You try it again. You lean back, close your eyes... but to the same result. 

You stand and stare blankly at the shower wall. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Jake looking back at you from across the living room. 

The lights on his face, the contrast of his dark hair against the white door frame - you can even hear the music that was playing. All of it. It’s haunting you.

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to will it away, but you can’t stop your brain from playing the image back to you. 

“Fuck,” you whisper again, a bit more desperately this time and slump against the cold shower wall. You stay there, staring at the tile in front of you until you realize that the issue isn’t going to go away. 

You give up and wash your hair, absent of the task. A slight annoyance slips over you because you can’t even enjoy the ritual with your mind so preoccupied. You take a deep breath and let your eyes slip closed as the warm water rinses the soap away. 

He’s waiting for you in the black, but this time you’re on the patio with him, watching him smoke his cigarette down to the filter. It’s only for a moment, but in that moment you can smell the smoke. Feel the leather of his jacket. Taste his skin. 

You remember the intensity in his eyes as you sucked his thumb into your mouth and you try to recall every little thing about how he looked at that moment. You groan at yourself, realizing just how stupid you are for ever letting yourself feel like this. 

When you step out of the shower, you promise yourself that you won’t think about it anymore, but you still do. You try to bargain with yourself. 

You won’t think about it again after tonight, you think, but you know it’s a lie.

You blow dry your hair in the mirror and stare at the spot on your neck that Mitch had left you with. It’s faded to the point that it’s nearly undetectable, but you can see it. You want to hate Mitch for it, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re acutely aware that if he hadn’t done that, you would have never had the time you did with Jake. The party would have just been normal and you would still have Mitch’s number saved in your phone. Jake was right, who knows how long you would have kept dating him, despite the lack of interest on your part. 

You lay down in bed with your warm pajamas on, your feet dangling off the side and your cell in your hands. Jake’s contact information is pulled up and you flip to the Messages tab. You’ve only ever messaged him a couple of times; once when he asked you about a song you had been playing that he wanted to know the name of, and once when Josh and him were coming to pick you and Lucy up and he was messaging that they were waiting outside. 

You lay the phone face down on your chest and stare up at your ceiling. Your heart is fluttering as you think about what would happen if you called him. Right now. 

It’s just a reckless idea - you’d never do it - but that doesn’t stop your eyes from flicking to the clock on your nightstand. 

It’s 11 pm. Would he even answer? What would you say if he did?

You roll your eyes at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how stupid you’re being. The covers are chilly as you slip into them, but thankfully, they warm up quickly. You fall into a pleasant sleep, and even though you had sworn you wouldn’t dream about it, you still do. 

+++

You wake up to your phone notifying you of a message, but you ignore it for a few minutes, trying to force yourself back to sleep. It’s five minutes later that you realize it’s not happening, so you reach a hand over for your phone. 

Lucy   10:23 am

What are you up to tonight?

A smile finds your lips. She’s always had an uncanny way of knowing when you needed her, and some girl time was exactly what the doctor ordered, you think.

Absolutely nothing. Wanna hang? you reply. You crawl out of bed and allow yourself some time to stretch your muscles before you head for the bathroom. You’re brushing your teeth when you hear a new message come in. 

Lucy   10:41 am 

For sure

Movie at Josh’s. Pick you up around 5.  

Your heart jumps.

“Fuck,” you rasp, but your mouth is still full of toothpaste, and now your mirror is dotted with white speckles. You finish brushing frantically before texting back.

Maybe just a girl night?

Because your life is currently such a mess, you’re not at all surprised that Lucy takes nearly half an hour to respond.

You lunge for the phone the second you hear the notification sound, nearly dropping the Poptart that you’ve just finished toasting. 

 Lucy  11:10 am

Don’t be silly, I already got the movie 

You have no idea how that prevents you from just watching it alone with her, but you don’t want to make her suspicious, so you don’t press any further. 

The rest of your day is spent acting like a middle schooler. You are not ready to see Jake Kiszka again. What if he says something to you in front of Lucy? Explaining it to her would be a nightmare. What if he was just drunk and doesn’t actually have any interest at all?

You’re not positive you’ll see him, so you try to convince yourself that you probably won’t. It decidedly does not work.  

You pointedly try not to think about what you’re going to wear, but despite yourself, you already have an outfit picked out by the time 4 pm rolls around. You try to reason with yourself as you eye your makeup bag.

“It’s a movie,” you remind yourself into the mirror. “We are just watching a movie in the dark and you are not putting on makeup.”

You try to be firm, but you’re weak and you end up glaring at your reflection as you apply mascara. 

Lucy is late when she arrives to get you, but it doesn’t matter, because you still feel like you haven’t had enough time to worry about everything thoroughly. Feeling unprepared, you climb into her car. 

You try to calm yourself by listening to everything Lucy is going on about as she tells you about her week. You know that she can tell that you’re nervous because she starts talking about her cat - a subject that always makes you feel better.

She’s so used to being at the Kiszka house that when you get there, she doesn’t bother knocking. She just lets herself in and hangs her coat and scarf on a hook by the door.

“Babe,” she calls out into the house, and Josh emerges from the kitchen and sweeps her into an embrace. You try not to listen to their loved up talk, you don’t feel like you have the stomach for it with the state you’re in.   

Josh greets you with a polite hug. You smile back genuinely until you realize that you have no idea if Jake told him anything, and suddenly you have a whole new nightmare to explore in your head. You try to talk yourself through it as you follow them through the hall to the living room.

He didn’t give you the shit-eating grin that you would expect to receive if he did know something. You’re also pretty sure that he would tell Lucy, and Lucy would absolutely ask you about it. You breathe a relieved sigh as you settle in on the couch.

Sam is sitting the wrong way in a reclining chair, his long legs hanging off one of the arms. He looks so gangly that you can’t help but laugh at him and he gives you a cheesy smile back. 

Since the recliner is taken, you get cozy with Lucy sandwiched between you and Josh, and a fuzzy blanket across all your laps. You want to ask if Jake is going to be joining you guys, but you chicken out. What if Josh does know about what happened at the party, and by some miracle, he just didn’t tell Lucy? You don’t want to seem like you’re thinking about Jake - even though you absolutely are - so you just stay silent. 

You try to get into the movie. You and Lucy both love anything in the horror genre, but you’d already seen this one in theaters with her, and you try not to be annoyed that she’d pick a movie you’ve both already seen, presumably just so Josh could see it as well.

It’s considerably less scary the second time around, so about halfway through, you find yourself bored. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, mostly just so you can stretch your legs, as the couch isn’t that big and fitting three people on it is a squeeze. Lucy asks if you want them to pause the movie, but you wave her off, telling her you’ll be right back.

You head up the stairs and down the hallway, and you’re just about to turn the corner to the bathroom when the breath gets knocked out of you with a thump. It doesn’t hurt, but a shocked noise escapes your lips before you can stop it. A pair of hands find your hips instantly to help steady you. It takes you a second to realize that you’ve just slammed into Jake - face first - but as soon as you do, you hold your breath. You must have a horrified look on your face because he breathes a laugh.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you squeak. “What are you doing here?”

Deliberately slow - like he’s trying to make sure you’ve got your balance back - he pulls his hands away. Through a disbelieving grin, he says, “Well, I live here. It’s more like ‘what are you doing here?’.”

You can feel your face turning pink. “Right. Lucy and I are here for a movie,” you explain. You haven’t made an effort to step back away from him, and you can’t bring yourself to yet. His hair is wet and slicked back, and you’re annoyed it looks so good on him - you always look like a drowned cat when you get out of the shower. 

He hums in understanding but doesn’t say anything else. He just raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. 

Just above a whisper, you chance, “Are we going to talk about it?”

He feigns consideration. 

“We could,” he says with a nod, his lips stretching out into a mischievous smirk. “Or we could pick up where we left off.”

You subtly pull the sleeves on your sweater down to your wrists in an effort to hide the goosebumps that are rising on your skin. You open your mouth, but you’re truly at a loss for words. You had a full week to think about this, but you realize you never got around to allowing yourself to figure out what you’d say to him. He gives you an ample amount of time to think of a response, but the only thing you can do is stare at his lips.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice is like silk. It’s quiet, but commanding. A tone you’d use if you had someone's wrists cuffed to your headboard. “Where did all that confidence go?”

He didn’t have as much control the last time you were this close to him, but he definitely does now, and you can tell that this is exactly how he’s comfortable.

“Pretty sure my liver cleared it all out Saturday morning,” you reply, swallowing hard. The words had come out softer than you’d intended. He’s smug as he seems to give you a once over, and your chest tightens under his gaze. 

“That’s a shame.” 

You can smell his shampoo as he brushes past you - something minty and pleasant. The sharpness of it helps ground you a little, but as soon as he disappears down the stairs, you slip into the bathroom and slump against the closed door. The whole exchange only lasted a couple of minutes, but you’re left feeling exhausted. You consider staying in the bathroom forever - maybe setting up a nice nest of towels so you never have to see anyone for the rest of your life, but then you remember that you have your favorite kind of yogurt in your fridge at home, so you’ll have to come out eventually. Instead, you just stand in front of the sink and splash cold water against your face as you try to collect your thoughts. 

You don’t see him the rest of the evening, and for that, you’re simultaneously grateful and annoyed. Multiple times you think about marching back up to his room, but that's as far as you get. You still have no idea what you’d say or do once you got up there. 

Lucy takes you home after the movie, and she offers to stay the night, but you tell her you’re wiped and that you’re headed right to bed. You go to get out of her car, but she places her hand on yours where it’s rested on the center console. 

“Hey, so Josh and I were talking,” she starts, and your stomach tightens. You’re suddenly positive that she’s about to tell you that she knows everything, so you hold your breath. 

“About birthday plans. So he was thinking that since I’m going to be leaving in a week, he’s going to throw me a party at his house next Saturday,” she finishes excitedly. You smile at her, trying not to look scared. 

Lucy’s birthday is in early November, and every single year since you met, you’ve spent it together. This year, however, her parents surprised her with a trip abroad. You had been planning on having a nice dinner together just before she left, but you suppose that it is more efficient to just have a party with everyone.

 “That’s great,” you agree, squeezing her hand. 

“I’m so excited, I’m just hoping you can help us plan it all?” She gives you her best puppy eyes. “Since I’m going to be so busy packing and making sure I have everything together.”

You take a deep breath and nod in agreement. “Of course. You can count on me, Lu.”

She beams at you and leans in to give you a cramped car hug.

When you’re back in your room, you shoot Josh a message asking what he’d like you to be in charge of. Your body feels tight, so you head to the bathroom and draw yourself a bath, setting the water as hot as it will go. 

Josh K    9:38 pm

thinking probably cake 

You frown at your phone and shoot back,  just cake?

Josh K    9:41 pm

yah 

You set your phone down on the tile by the bathtub and roll your eyes. “Idiot,” you say out loud through a smile. You undress and sink into the water slowly, and it’s so hot that it turns your skin pink, but the slight pain is grounding. A message notification sounds from beside you, so you extend a wet hand to grab it.

Josh K    9:48 pm 

Lucy wants to do decorations herself n sam threatened suicide if he cant dj

You huff a laugh. What are you getting her for a present?, you send back.

Josh K    9:51 pm

secret :)

Josh K    9:52 pm

maybe just birthday sex 

You leave it at that, grateful that Lucy has someone so loving in her life. You think she deserves it, even if it does gross you out now and again. 

You spend the rest of your time in the bath willing yourself to relax and trying to figure out why the last three words Jake said to you upset you more than the entirety of your last interaction with Mitch.

PART THREE

Taglist: @myownparadise96   (message me to add yourself if you want!)

[ceruleanmusings]

“fuck you.” dreo angst prompt for when youre feeling it!

I’m always feeling Dreo angst! They’re the poster children for it. One of these days I’ll be nice to them and let them be soft and happy but today is not that day!

This takes place during the Battle of Hogwarts because why not?

Also on AO3 and FFN

Scuffed shoes, once shiny and pristine, stumbled over a pile of rubble that tripped him around the corner. Pitching forward, Draco slammed onto his hands and knees, his wand handle pressing into his palm like a rock in his shoe.

The rough corners of concrete and stone slabs pushed and prodded and tore at his knees when he fell. The resulting throbs and stinging pain cut across his kneecaps. He didn’t have to look down to see that his dress pants had been brushed with dust and torn apart

He spat, forcing out the dust that had sucked moisture out of his mouth and his body bent at an odd and unrefined shape in an effort to hold himself up. No sense in damaging his nose any more than it already suffered.

Merlin, that Weasley could pack a punch. He didn’t look it, with his gangly frame and awkward limbs. Yet the punch delivered to his nose, in front of Death Eaters no less, smacked him a good one. And yet that hurt a lot less than his aching pride. Or what was left of it, anyway.

Easing himself to his feet, Draco brushed a dirty, soot covered hand against his shirt. It left a darkened smear on the white starchy fabric, a black scar along his silver and green tie. With a grunt and a sneering curl to his lips, he wrenched off his tie and allowed the silky fabric, a badge he once wore pinned to his swelled chest, to lay in the ground in a discarded heap, coiled up like a snake.

He pushed a breath out of his nose, licked his dry, cracked lips, and continued down the hallway. His gait was slow with a slight limp but he pushed forward. Every now and then the castle rocked with the force of an explosion followed by a burst of screams and a roar of rage. It bounced off him, like oil on water, and he kept going as the hurricane surrounded him.

He needed to get out. He needed to get to his parents. He needed—

The acrid scent of fire flashed passed his nose, a breeze squeezing through a crack in a nearby wall. He stopped all at once, rooted to the spot, dull gray eyes wide as a roar rushed in his ears. It howled and screamed, growing in volume, and grew human in tone. Drowning in agony, bleeding in fear.

Draco clapped his hands over his ears, squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth and begged for the screaming to stop. For Crabbe to be released from the painful grip of Hell. For the scent of burning hair and the sound of popping flesh to fade. For his heavy heart to be forgiven.

Air. He needed air.

Vice tightening on his chest, squeezing his lungs, Draco dropped his arms to the side and started forward again. Moving faster. His parents! He needed to find his mum and dad, to make sure they were okay. They needed to be okay. They needed—

Draco’s heart dropped when a hand grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him sideways off his feet, down a darkened corridor. All breath flew out his lungs when his back connected with the steady stone wall. The grip on his shirt loosened, only slightly, and it took him a startling second to realize something was being hissed into his ear.

“What?” he uttered.

“Was it worth it?” Theo demanded, his hazel eyes blazing, a sharp turn at the corner of his mouth.

“What’re you—?” Draco’s words died on his tongue as his brain registered just who it was that had a hold on him and who it was that spoke to him. His lips parted for a second, disbelief shooting out of him in a single breath, and he moved to push Theo away. “You’re not supposed to be here you idiot.”

Theo ignored him, a skill that he’d mastered years ago but still rubbed Draco’s nerves after all this time. His grip shifted to the sleeve of Draco’s shirt, yanking it upwards in one deft and fluid motion. Even seething, Theo had a way of making all his movements graceful.

“This!” Theo jerked Draco’s arm upwards and a burn of bile shot up his throat that the sight of it. The black mark etched into his skin; flickering beneath the nearby torch lights. The snake seeping out of the mouth of the skull seemed to wag its tongue at him, winking, taunting. “Was this worth it?”

“Sod off, Nott!” Draco pushed him off, brushing his hands against the wrinkles in his clothes. Habits died hard, he supposed. But it was expected of him, normal. He needed normal. It was nice. At least he could do that right. “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t need to understand much to know you’re a coward.”

Draco scoffed. “Of course that’s what you think. You’re missing the big picture, you’re…” His words trailed off and he pressed his lips together. Better flashed in his mind but he pushed that fleeting thought away. “Leave. I have something to do.”

“Bend over?” Theo offered.

He wasn’t sure what set him off; the blasé tone that seemed to be permanently attached to Theo’s words, the air of judgement crackling around him, or Theo’s general undermining disposition. Or maybe it was all of it that sent Draco surging forward, colliding with Theo, slamming his body into the opposite wall.

The two boys collided with a heavy thud, a minuscule sound beneath the battle raging on around them. Their wands lay forgotten on the ground, fits curling and sinking into the fabric of their shirts as they fought one another, shoving this way and that, grunting and hissing as they battled for the upperhand. Theo was a hair taller than Draco and had the leverage but Draco was faster. Years of Quidditch helped build strength within him compared to Theo’s penchant for shutting himself away.

A stream of dust fell on their heads when the castle rocked again, shaking them, pushing them away from one another. A stark metallic taste seeped into Draco’s mouth; running his tongue along his bottom lip was met with the sting of a fresh cut. Blood dotted his tongue. Theo, worse for wear, leaned against the opposite wall, chest heaving, a swelling red patch by his eye. He brought an arm up to his mouth, wiping away a streak of blood. Whose, he wasn’t sure.

“You think you have this all figured out, huh?” Draco asked between pants. Theo turned his eyes to him but didn’t speak. Draco sniffed and spat. Dark blood splattered on the ground in between them. “You think this is all easy. What I had to do.”

“You made that choice— ”

“I had no choice!” The words shot out of Draco’s throat, raw, hitting Theo like bullets. He winced. Draco relished in it, in Theo’s resolve falling. “He doesn’t give us choices. We just…we have to do it. I have to do it! I have to! My family…you don’t get it.” His mouth stumbled over the words that came up in a rush, clumping together, fighting to be heard, to be understood. To be taken without that look in Theo’s eye, without the airs of an upturned nose, without the disappointment. Like Draco could just…stop. Could change. Could walk away. “I have to…I have to make it right. My parents…”

“They’re letting you walk to your death,” Theo said.

“Fuck you!” Draco hissed. He shook his head. No, no that’s not what they were doing. They cared about him. He cared about them. He was trying to save them. There was no other choice. It was up to him now. He couldn’t fail again. Not after… His stomach pitched hard and he pressed his lips together, forcing his mind away from the image of Crabbe back in the Room of Requirement. His hands trembled by his side; in the back of his mind fire cracked and popped like fireworks. Or was that the battle going on a few floors down? “Why are you here?”

“This is my school.”

“Your father— ”

“I’m hoping to run into him, actually.” The icy tone to Theo’s words made Draco lift his head, lock eyes with his longtime friend.

All at once he was brought back to the days before Hogwarts, when they would run around the large gardens at the Malfoy Manor, trying to get as far away from their parents as possible. When they would grin at each other beneath windswept hair and ruddy cheeks from managing to get a good flight in on the brooms laying around. When they would sneak out at night and talk by the dragon fountain, waiting for it to change its pose or spit water at them instead of the basin at the bottom.

“My father’s sick,” Theo spoke so suddenly that Draco almost missed it. Theo didn’t talk a lot but when he did Draco listened. He always listened. “Healers came today. Said it could be bad.”

“Oh,” was all Draco said. What else could he say? Theodore Nott Sr. was a man he never crossed paths with much. He only saw the elderly man when he came to visit the Malfoy Manor to speak with his own father behind closed doors. His bony hands shook as if he were nervous but the way he lifted his chin and held his body told Draco that he was anything but. He saw that same assuredness in Theo sometimes. Draco once thought of Nott Sr. as a walking skeleton. The grim reaper. Theo laughed at that once. Draco still didn’t get why that was funny. Still, he said, “I’m sorry.”

The lights that one sparkled in Theo’s eyes they could put the constellations above to shame faded as Theo said, “I’m not.”

And it was now, as the two stood in the cramped corridor, regarding each other, that Draco witnessed the hardened look from their youth settling in Theo’s eyes.

“You came back for him,” Draco said. An odd pang accompanied his words, a gash ripping open on his heart. A deep, soulful ache, like rubbing a wound on glass.

A muscle in Theo’s jaw twitched. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Oh.”

Silence pulsed between them, gazes unwavering, and then…

“You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”

Like an ebbing wave, all sound seemed to be sucked out of the castle save for a low hum. It took Draco a few seconds to place that it was the still of anticipation.

“Malfoy—”

“I need to go,” Draco said, cutting Theo off. This was his only chance. He could find his parents and they could leave. Before…before He found them. Before he could get them. They could hide out…somewhere. They could never go back but…at least they’d be together.

“You don’t…” something in Theo’s voice made him stop and turn. His heart stuttered. “It can be different.”

“…No, it can’t. It’s too late.”

“It can all stop. Right now.”

“Forget it, Nott. …I have to do this.” Draco flashed a sad smile. “It’s already been done, really.” His eyes drifted back down to the Dark Mark on his forearm.

Somewhere down below a wail echoed upwards.

“…Merlin, you’re such a git!”

Once again Draco was bodyslammed into the wall but Theo was too close and beneath the sweat and grime he smelled too redolent and his grip was too tight and his kiss was too good.

His whole body sighed into Theo’s, pressing up against him, slotting together like a missing puzzle piece. His fingers dug into the tight fabric of Theo’s starchy white shirt, tugging him closer still.

Theo’s fingers dug into his hair and their lips collided with every greedy grab for another and another and another. Theo’s tongue ran across the cut on Draco’s lower lip, coaxing, and Draco let him in.

At the touch of tongues the two boys groaned. Draco’s head swam, a dizzying exhilaration that would’ve knocked him off balance if it were for Theo’s steady, sure hold on him. Draco lifted his hands to Theo’s face, thumbs brushing the stubble that coated his jaw—a new development in these past couple months that Draco admired from afar—and gently touching the swelling beneath his eye.

Their hearts hammered together, Draco felt Theo’s beats in the spaces between his own, a push and pull that mimicked their kisses, their desperation for touch, their effort to hold onto something in a world that spun them out of control. With every kiss, every sigh, every rush of goosebumps, Draco wondered if this was a better choice. If Theo was a better choice. If they could turn and walk away.

But he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve Theo to care about him. He made his bed, he had to lie in it. And not in the way that flashed in his mind when Theo’s fingers pressed into his spine, eliciting a moan from deep in his throat. This was nice, welcomed, needed, wanted, but it wasn’t for him.

Fingers twitching by his side, they then curled around his wand as it slapped into his palm. In one swift motion, before he could think, he jabbed the tip of it into Theo’s stomach and whispered “Crucio” into his mouth.

With a bang and a rush of green light, Theo was thrown backwards. His body slammed against the ground with a sickening thud and Draco’s racing heart beat erratically for a different reason. The previous exhilaration died, as it should, and he lowered his shaking hand. Theo’s body seized and convulsed, eyes wide and unfocused.

Turning on his heel, Draco hurried out of the corridor but not before hearing Theo’s scream of agony. He stopped, eyes clenching, the sound echoing in his head, etching a new scar on his heart. It blended in with the others.

Clenching his jaw, lifting his chin, Draco kept moving, Theo’s screams melding in with the bellows and cries of loss below.