#my computer has a hole striked right through from my hard

[tparker48]

Request for anonymous

"Let's see..add a few fine tuning on the stitches, tighten up the bells…" Merkeo muttered as he faced his computer desk, threading a needle through his jester suit. "Just a little bit of tugging and..There!”

He took a step back to admire his handy work. The black and red spandex glistened beneath his lamp, slumping from the miniature desk to the wooden board of the one beneath. It took him weeks to find a suit customizable, he could hardly count the shops he visited that sold suits for people his size. He took the suit from the desk, reminiscing its silky texture as it glided between his fingertips.

"Wait until the the peeps get a load of this, I can already tell this DnD session will be-"

A beep rang from the magnet on the front door, a hard thud striking the panel as a spiked cleat forced it to the wall. "Hey nerd! Guess who's home!" A voice boomed as the rest of their body lowered into the frame, the metal borders of the door screaming as they made their way passed. "I swear this damn door needs an adjustment. Hey nerd! Nerd!"

"I'm right here, Fervin!" Merkeo shouted, rubbing his ears from the vibrations in his ear drums. "Must you shout so loud? We're in a dormitory."

"What can I say? when I make an entrance, I make an entrance."

He slumped his duffel bag from his shoulder, tossing it against the wall as its weight sent a pulse through the floor. Merkel watched as his form strolled closer, like a looming storm cloud about to pour upon a landscape. The computer chair rushed back, Fervin's hide forcing the cushion down as it raced eagerly to support him.

He crossed his arms behind his back. "Oh it feels good to be out of that lecture room. The professor really cracked down on that essay, even double checked to ensure it was mine. Guess some pencil necks can’t handle such great genius."

"You mean my work. My whole sleep schedule’s out of whack because of your pestering."

the desk shook as spikes prodded upon the table. Merkel nearly yelped at its prickling touch, his hands casting to the air. "And it worked like a charm." He kicked his other foot upon the table. But he paused as he gazed at the slim ware hanging from his foot. “Huh, what are those? pajamas?”

The footwear wagged as Merkeo raced to retrieve his suit, cautiously eying the coned steel as they swiped from side to side. “If you must know, It’s my jester suit. And I would very much like it without holes for DnD.”

"That nerd shit? Pfft, lame. You can’t expect to get babes with a thing like that. Now that spring break party tonight, that’s where it’s really at. And guess who’s cohost? This guy!”

Merkeo managed to grab ahold of his suit, sliding it from the cold pedestal as he tumbled back to the desk. "You? Cohost? I don’t think they chose wisely on that."

“Cute, can’t be surprised to hear that from a bookworm. But If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to party.” He said. “The drinks, the babes, I can already imagine it now. And by the end of the night, I’m gonna bang me a cheerleader."

He raised his palms to the air, his fingers swaying to trace an hourglass shape. His hips slowly began to thrust, his junk pushing through from its pouch as it slithered to the leg hole of his shorts. Merkeo caught a glimpse as the phallus peeked out, shielding his eyes as his face flushed red.

"Ay Ay! TMI man, I don't want to see all that!"

"Aww is the nerd getting flustered?" His legs stretching over the desk, the hefty package between his legs gyrating against the wooden furniture. "I bet you wish you could be all over this."

"I’d rather do quizzes than be that close to you." he replied, "Will you put that away already?!"

"Hah, that's what I like about you nerds, always so squeamish." he slid his waist back to the chair, groping at the bulky outline. "Luckily for you, this bad boy has its eyes set on the ladies tonight. It can't waste time on small fries like you. Though it might give that thin noodle of yours some pointers."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Peh, suit yourself."

He grabbed a few beer bottles, hoisting them over his broad shoulders as he walked out of the room. Merkeo sighed, taking back to his suit as he checked for punctured points. Aside from dust particles, the fabric was unscaved. Thank goodness, he didn't know what he’d do if it became damaged.

He returned to his desk to tend to the rest of his props, organizing the board and creatures he was ready to unleash upon his members. Another hour ticked by in a flash, his notes piling over one another from his practice sessions. He yawned as he checked the clock on the wall, a quarter past 7:00 PM.

“Time for a break.” he leaned into his chair.

He took to his computer as he looked into his group chat for the group. Many online were already talking about the upcoming session, sharing new lores while roleplaying in their own channels. What a treat it was to indulge in fantasy, he thought, may he could give them a taste of the jester magic. He reached for his cards to select to share, but paused as he eyed his costume. He eyed the group chat as many shared their costumes, it sent an urge through his body, his fingers wiggling at the temptation of trying it on. He didn’t want to spoil the magic with a picture, but to send a picture of their grad DM, it may just make them excited, if not himself.

“Oh.. why not, I still have to make sure it fits anyway.”

He picked up the costume as he held it on his shoulder, stripping himself as the cool conditioning washed over him like a wave. He slipped his limbs inside, his hairs standing on end as they brushed against the elastic spandex. He soon put on his Cap n Bells as they dangled from the sides of his head, its little chimes sending a giggle from inside as he tapped at the round spheres.

“I think a quick selfie might do the trick. ‘The crowned jester and his future pawns’. Oo, that kinda has a ring to it.

He hovered his phone to get a better angle for himself, shifting the filter as sparkles boarded the frame. But the ground shook beneath as he caught himself, the water bottle on the desk rippling. An earthquake? It can’t be, the tectonic plate wasn’t near the university. Heavy thumps slowly overwhelmed the silent rumbles, traveling through the walls before it stopped at the front door.

The magnet chimed, but the handle didn’t turn as grumbling lingered behind it. The magnet reactivated, and pounds struck the door, as if a wild beast was trying to force its way in. Merkeo eyed the door as its pounds became aggressive, the green lighting of the magnet flickering before another strike snuffed out its light. The door slammed open, and wallowing filled the room.

Fervin loomed inside as he entered. One of his shoes were missing, and his "Damn it all..who do they think I am?! I'm a fuckin'.. Football player!"

His weight leaned as his feet stomped forward, like a drunk T-rex trying to run as he staggered to couch. He tripped over his own feet as he hurled toward the cushion, knocking the couch from its sliders as his head wedged into the soft gaps.

Merkeo used the railing in the room to make it over to the couch, standing upon the armchair. "The hell happened to you?"

"It's horrible..I go all that way to seek her out..An.. the hag blue balled me. Me!" He groaned into the cushions, scraping from its soft crevice. “You know how many want to..to.. Fuck me?!"

Fervin turned his head, his roaring breath flowing out like a dragon. Merkeo fanned the air as the smell of alcohol polluted the once clean air, holding the collar of his suit over his mouth to deter himself from passing out.

“You went and got yourself again! Didn’t you learn from the last party you went to.”

“Screw you!.. I don’t take orders from you! Why I..I” tears slowly sleeping through his eyes, a whimper escaping. “Damn it all..why do they have to make it so hard?”

Merkeo palmed himself. He must’ve drank too much if he’s already at his wallowing state. He sighed before hopping to the side of the lughead's face, caressing his cheek as its warmth filled his palm. "Hey now..you. There's no need to fuss about one girl." He said to him, wincing at the drool wetting his pants. "There's many out there in the sea, and I'm sure there's some out there waiting for him."

"Yeah right!" He blurted, knocking Merkeo onto his butt. " That's not gonna solve my aching cock right now!"

Fervin dug a finger through his waistband, the jock’s musk mixing with the tainted air as flesh squeaked against the sofa’s rubbery surface. The forearm above Steamrolled Merkeo as it traversed toward the bulging phallus, answering its wet call as his stubby fingers pampered its side. It throbbed it wedged itself between the crevice of the cushions, the jock’s hips flexing as he shuttered.

“Oh Yeah..that’s the stuff.” He muttered, his hips pumping into the couch.

"Dude! Not in the living room! Do that somewhere else."

"Sue me..I'm too pissed and horny to move."

His strokes increased as his hips moved like a wave, the wet slap of flesh overwhelming the silence in the room. Merkeo raced to comfort his ears as he moved to a cubard, searching through his supplies. He flipped over towels stashed in the corner, and found a plastic bottle of water sticking out from its packet. He wrapped his arms around the slender bottle and dragged it out, heaving it toward his drunken roommate on the couch.

“Alright, let’s get you sober so you don’t break the wall again?” Merkeo said.

Fervin grumbled as his knees slumped beneath him, thrusting him upward as his wait trailed backwards. Merkeo eyed cautiously at his blundering, backtracking as the stumbling feet trailed closer.

“I didn’t say move!” he yelped, rolling the bottle the opposite way.

But he wasn’t fast enough to outrun Fervin, his feet kicking in front of the other as he tilted like a chopped tree. The floor darkened before a wall of mass crashed at his back, burly arms planting the ground with a thunderous thump.

“That lady’s cheeks were cold… I’m barely s..satisfied.” He pawed the ground. “I need more!”

“Well you’re not getting one when you're on top of me! Now get off!”

His glassy eyes opened as he glared at him. "Piss off, man! I don’t need your..” he paused as he stared at the small roommate, his eyes blinking before they widened.

Merkeo met his gaze, looking at the marbled floor before looking back. "What?"

"Hey..where’d this toy come? Ho..How long have you been there?"

“Toy?" He blinked, tugging at his suit. "No, this is my suit, remember?"

"And it talks!..oh man..This must be my lucky day.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about. All that booze has gotten to your head. Why don't you go lay down and-" A palm wrapped around his body, plucking him from underneath. "Hey!"

His hand gripped like a vice, Fervin hauling him away as he returned to the couch with a drunken waltz. He was hurled into the closed fist as his back met with the soft cushion. He strung themselves to to the floor, a signal that rushed to the titanic cock as it pointed from his body. Merkeo pounded a hand at the sides of the jock’s fingers, the other covering his nose as the smell of rubber and jizz invaded his nostrils.

The phallus loomed closer, stamping at the gap between the middle fingers as it struck his chest. "A perfect fit..awesome." He slurred beneath his breath, his palms lifting as Merkeo plunged into the cavern of the couch, the bulbous head stamping his chin as it ensnared between his walls.

As the cock reached the bottom of the gap, it was a catalyst for Fervin’s arousal as hips began to pump. Flesh skidded against the silky suit, the phallus ramming into a pocket above Merkeo as the little bells were swallowed by the slit. Its warmth was overwhelming, his nostrils filling with a sour aroma as it stuck to his suit like cologne..

Merkeo raised his arms to shield himself. "Wait!…I'm not!.."

"Just a little more..a little more."

Fervin doubled his efforts as his hips twisted in place. The sweat that once dried between the cushions humidified as it loosened its restraints upon the tender skin, joined by the drizzling pre as it lathered into his roommate’s skin like lotion. The phallus scooped higher as it smashed Merkeo’s defense, the puffed edges moving like a wave as it stamped at his face.

He was stamped firmly as seed dressed his head, but unsatisfied puffs echoed above, a palm dragging him from underneath the bulging member. "Nrgh..that's not enough!" Fervin slurred from his lips. "How are you going to be a toy if you can't even get me off?"

"That's because I'm not a toy you lughead!"

His eyes squinted, eying the little roommates as strands of his own pre dripped to the couch. "Wha?..sure you are..I'm looking right at you." His fingers stamped across his body, the lonely bell on his right tuft jangling at his prods. "You look like a toy..feel like a toy. You are one…I'm just not using it right."

Gravity shifted as the palm tilted on its side, hovering over the hairy crotch. His other pinched eagerly at the drooling slit, pinching it open as its seed flowed down its underbelly like lava.

"What..what are you doing? No, hell no! You're not putting' me in there!"

"You better make this work..toy!"

"I told you I'm not a-!" his stomach dropped as the palm rushed toward the cock, a wet belch erupting from the cream filled phallus as it opened wide. Murky white fluid filled his vision as the orifice encircled his head. His shouts muffled from the bulging head, his palms slipping from the sides of phallus

Fervin's cock throbbed as it suckled at its meal. "Yeah…yeah that's the stuff. Get..right in there."

The palm loosed as fingers climbed over his feet, feeding more of Merkeo inside as its underbelly bulged with his body. With a giddish chuckle, he corkscrewed the rest of his feet inside as the slit closed. Wads of pre rushed into his body as it blinded him of the trip ahead, the muscular tube getting thickening as a suction pulled at his body.

A mere lump cast itself upon the jock's shaft, pulse after pulse dragging him down as it squeezed into the base of the shaft and into his prostate. More seed flooded the tender bean as the valve closed behind him, leaving him at the mercy of the muscular waves as it tenderized his body. He struggled to hold them back, his limbs sinking into their surface as he tried to find a way out. Pressure tugged at his feet, yanking him into the source of the musky fluid as he was dragged through the labyrinth swirling in the Jock's waist.

He held his breath as he was dragged through its loops, before he found him at its ridge as he slid through a long tube. He was deposited inside an enclosed sac, the walls forcing him to lay straight as if he were in an airtight compartment.

"Damn it Fervin, this has gotten way too far!!" he scowled, Worming himself toward the valve that winked out of reach, taunting at his predicament before it vanished behind a fold of seed coated flesh.

His calls were left unanswered, drowned out by the jock's beastly grunts as it reverberated through the walls.

wet slaps came from outside, jostling the testicle as if it were a fish bag. "That's the job..right there!" Fervin huffed louder.

The jock roared as the walls shrank around Merkeo’s body, the valve above him slurping the pool from the chamber as climbed through the tubes. The ceiling spasmed as spurts muffled the walls, Merkeo took the chance to breathe, but shriveled as his lungs filled with the ripe aroma of salt and bodily fluids. He squirmed along the walls to follow the fluid out, but his fingers wouldn't register as the stiff folds pucker in place.

Droplets of the lukewarm substance dripped at his back, and he groaned. "There, you had your little release. Now get me out of this thing!" He paused to hear the outside, the heavy wet thumps shaking the chamber as he swayed in place. "Hey! Are you listening?"

"Oh man..you are a good toy." He muttered, his voice distorted as if he were a broken speaker. "Ah really…good one."

"Yeah yeah, great, now get me out!"

Fervin’s words slowed as they traveled through his body. Gravity flicked as a heavy mass compressed the ceiling. The layer of flesh surrounding the testicle squashed at his torso.. The jock's breath grew heavy, rattling the muscles like rusted gears. He's kidding, he thought to himself, he sends him down his cock and now he's taking a snooze?

"You’re not sleeping with me in here!." He shouted. "Wake your ass up!"

He rattled the sac like an ape in a cage, thrashing himself in the compressed space to disrupt Fervin’s sound slumber. It was only when his knees cushioned into the round testicle did he get a reaction, the jock's body springing to life as a moan howled through the environment. Gravity shifted again, and the flesh barricading the orb pinned him down as the round lump cushioned his face.

He groaned as it tucked him against the corner wall, singing its whale songs of gurgles and churns to its captive audience. "Damn it.."

The hours ticked by since the events of that evening. Fervin tossed in his slumber, snarling from his nostrils as he rocked over the arms of the sofa. He stretched his limbs to scratch himself, but fell backwards as gravity pulled him to the floor. Sunlight erupted from the winder, burning into his eyes like a flashbang as he groggily got up.

He picked himself up from the floor, his balance tumbling to the cushion as he caught himself.. "Fuck what a night, all that partying really tired me out.." He scratched absently at his crotch, warm skin sticking to his fingers as he cocked it back, His barreled cock resting between his legs. “Where the fuck did my shorts go?..”

He stretched before getting up from the couch, giving one last yawn as he fetched a protein shake from the fridge. He looked at his roommates' things, his props scattered along the tabletop as his cotton bed was toppled from the windowsill. The nerd’s already gone, he thought, guess he decided to leave early for spring break. That’s good, he didn’t have to worry about underwear then. He drank at his shake and moved onto his side of the room, kicking his suitcase between his legs. He crumpled his clothes, tossing them inside as a hill slowly formed.

He scratched at himself once more, reminiscing at his fingers touch as his nut flexed over them. But he squinted as he gazed at the round sphere. Something was different about them, his right testicle sagged lower than the other. He fondled beneath its weight as his cock throbbed. It might just be his imagination, he did hold a lot of his seed in there last evening.

"I’m sorry big boy, I got too drunk to enjoy you properly.” He massaged his shaft. “But I bet you got plenty of rest after you had your fun."

"Absolutely not?"

He blinked at the sudden voice, looking at his Cock. He poked at its pudgy surface for a response, but it only throbbed. "Heh..hehe, I must have had way too many shots last night. Thought I just heard my cock talking."

"Not the cock you idiot!" The voice echoed again.

He cocked a brow as he stared at his member, movement rising beneath the sagging right testicle. He scooped his sac into his palm, pinching at the active orb as he rotated it. A squirming lump curled along its edge, a soft imprint appearing before a flex pulled it down.

His palm flung from his ball, letting them swing between his legs as his heart pounded. "What the hell did I drink last night?! My ball's coming alive!"

"No, It's me! Merkeo!"

"Merkeo?" He paused, looking back at the wiggling lump. He poked at its side, a pathetic whimper escaping from it. "It is you, nerd! The hell are you doing in my balls!"

"Take a guess! You shoved me in here on another one of your drunk sprees."

"Drunk spree? I don't know what the hell you're talking about." He said. “As far as I can remember I was alone..then again, there was this talking toy. Don’t remember much but it kept squawking about not being a..toy. Huh, well that explains all the whining.”

“You fucked me into the couch.”

He groaned upon the nerd’s response "Yeah well..you should’ve been more careful. It’s not my fault you’re in there.”

“It literally is!"

"Potato, Potato."

He moved toward the glass mirror along the wall, reaching , putting on his underwear as he got dressed. He pulled the back as the thin fabric saddled his glutes, letting his cock spill over the pouch as he took to his suitcase.

His nuts jangled together like wind chimes, crashing into his thighs. "What are you doing now?"

"What do you think I’m doing? I’m packing for the weekend. I’ve got shit to do back at home, and since you're stuck with me, you'll just have to tag along until we get back."

"What?! I'm not staying in here! DnD is this weekend!" Merkel said, pressure climbed through his epididymis to the valve connecting to the rest of the cock. The right nut sway passively, flexing as the sensation of fingers prodded at the tight folds. "Gotta get..out of this thing!"

The jock snorted at the attempt. "Oh boy, aren't you nerds supposed to be smart or something? My cock doesn't take orders from nerds, it listens to one that has the oomph to shake it. And that's yours truly."

"Then get on with it already."

"You’d love that wouldn’t you? To see yourself ejected from a real cock." he fondled his nuts between his fingers. "Unfortunately I’m still spent. It's gonna be a long while before these babies are ready for another round."

“And how long would that take.”

“Hell if I know, 3 hours or so.” “Three hours?!”

“Yup, so might as well get comfy until I fetch for you.”

He raised his cock over the flap, sealing it inside the pouch as he tied his shorts. He reeled his luggage into the hallway, following the narrow passageway toward the elevator in the crossway. Movement shifted as Merke tried to adjust in the compact space, the bulk of Fervin’s nuts dog piling his lump as it jostled in the pouch of his jockstrap. That nerd really knows how to get under his skin. Literally. Though he'll give him one thing, it felt good to have his balls stimulated, like a hot girl playing with his balls. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside. As they closed, he groped at his crotch, humping at the air.

He picked up a soft whimper from beneath the fabric, pressure building at his testicle as soft kneads rested upon it. He still didn’t know how to feel above having the nerd in there,but at least he’ll help filling him up back home..

The ride with Fervin was a long and bumpy trip. Every passing moment was filled with flesh jumbling Merkeo around, marinating him in the little puddle that climbed at his ankles as the testicular wall shriveled and compressed. He didn't know how far they traveled, the outside was too muffled to depth the surrounding environment except for the purrs of jock’s vehicle. After another eternity of stewing in the jock's balls, inertia pulled ahead as his face was wrapped in a sheet of muscle.

His steps boomed as a door creaked open, the sound of a zipper being undone as the sac rolled on its side. "Ah, it's good to be back home." Fervin’s voice distorted through the walls..

Merkeo padded at the soft tissue to get the jock's attention, the testicle spooning into his torso. His palms were pinned by the protruding bulge, only managing to use his ankles as he bucked weakly as the ridge of the testicle.

A heavy thud struck the balls, the soft curvature of fingers pressing at his back. "Eh? oh yeah, forgot you were in there."

Not a surprise. "It's been hours since I've been here. Can you get me out now?"

“I told you that’s not how my nuts work, nerd. They need the energy to get them started.”

“You said you needed three hours!”

Fervin laughed heartily. “I said It’d take me three hours to fill them, I never said I’d be ready to release it.”

The sac shook as its contents plonked around, the seed secreting from the wall spreading out as they washed over Merkeo’s body. His stomach dropped as the fingers let go, the nuts beginning to sway as steps boomed outside. A soft pressure cushion at the walls, tight leather scrunching beneath him.

“Been a while since I checked on the game” Fervin said. “I wonder if my K/D is still intact.”

The jock’s weight shifted as the sac tilted, forcing Merkeo to spoon beneath the rough lump as seed polled at his shoulders. Fervin's voice could be heard beyond the walls, blurting comments as a controller clunked high above. His obnoxious bantering went on for another hour, his balls rocking periodically as a finger scratched at the testicular layer. Merkeo tried again to get him to answer, splashing at the pool of seed that splashed beneath his chin. But he only received a brush from one of the thighs, followed by cursing as he shouted at someone in the game.

Outside the sun loomed past the hill in the window, the crimson sky slowly turning blue as the moon rose from the horizon. Merkeo tilted his neck as he faced the quivering sphincter above, counting its flexes as seed drooled from its lips. It’s all he could do, with his limbs bathed into the milky pool as the muscle flexed in place.

“Fuck yeah!” Fervin’s voice blurted,the testicles thrusting forward before snagged. “Hope you like that grenade yas wuss! That’ll teach ya to steal my kill!”

“Fervin!” Merkeo called out, thrashing against the tender wall. “Fervin!”

The chamber shifted, pressure applying to his back. “What now nerd?”

“Are you ready yet? It’s getting kind of full in here.”

“Hmm..They are kinda heavy…” the pressure behind him pushed at his body, a thrust sending a wave over the little roommate. “And I’m already pumped as it is, why not.”

“Yes! Finally!”

A rumble boomed above, a bubbling torrent shaking the walls as pressure melted behind him. “Shit, I forgot all about dinner. Can’t wank one out on an empty stomach.”

Merkeo swayed as Fervin traversed the household, his steps hardening as it traveled through his body. Wrappers muffled from above as the jock giggled to himself, followed by a meaty crunch as he chewed on his food. He listened to symphony of crumpled wrappers and munching for moments, and still he had yet finished his feast. The fluid climbed higher, dosing his ears as if they dipping sauce.

The walls flexed, and he raced to force them back. “It's getting a little cramped in here, are you ready to release yet?” “Eh? Release what?”

“Your seed!”

“Oh yeah yeah, I’ll get right on it. Just..” an announcer muffled from outside, followed by bells as cheer muttered in the background. “Oo, the playoffs! I forgot that aired today.” He walked over as the sounds came closer, springs creaking beneath him.

“Wait a second, get me out first.”

“Don’t sweat it, it won’t be long. I’ll have you out by halftime, jock’s promise.”

Merkeo groaned at the response, working his limbs close to deter the walls from overtaking the pocket. He didn’t know if he could bear the salty aroma, each whiff was like intaking smelling salt, forcing him to buck at the round testicle that threatened to submerge him without hesitation. Buzzing rang from beneath him as a bubbled climbed into the pocket, his phone emerging from the pool as a notification was plastered upon it.

It was from one of the members, sending a message about the meet for tomorrow. He fiddled a finger toward its direction, its angled edge taping at his fingertips, before a fold greedily dragged it out of sight. He sighed as he faced the wall, thrashing it about to get Fervin’s attention. This time there was no response, all except his goofish giggling as he mocked the game. He couldn’t do anything but wait, tugging into the soggy fold as he closed his eyes.

A few minutes passed as he opened his eyes, once chaotic background softening as snores followed behind it. He was still in his balls, and he was fast asleep. In rage, he thrashed about the chamber to cause discomfort, swiping at the lump at his torso despite how weakly his limbs slipped off.

A roaring ocean filled his ears, as the side of his hear were submerged in milky pool. In shriveled defeat, he closed his eyes, awaiting for the jock to wake up once more. DnD was tomorrow, and he couldn’t stand being trapped in his nuts for a moment more. —-------------------------------------- Throughout the next day, he slept to conserve his energy, listening to Fervin’s wandering as carried out his activities. When waved of seed flowed into his nostrils, he shot awake, kicking the testicle as a jolt shook the walls. A groan escaped from the jock as fingers took to his balls, forcing him to adjust as the chamber tilted it’s side.

“Watch where you’re kicking in there will ya?” Ferman demanded. “These babies are to be treated with care!”

“These babies are a nightmare, I’ve been stewing in here for god now’s how long!”

“Oh please, you barely move in there, it can’t be that bad.” “You’re not the one neck deep in side!” He bent his knees to open more space, driving his feet into the sides of the testicular wall.

Its flesh raced to subdue, contracting its muscle around him like a snake. But he refused to let himself cave under its pressures, prying at the opposite wall.

Fervin’s body twisted. “What are you doing?”

“DnD is tonight, I can’t stay in your balls any longer. And if I have to cause a ruckus, then so be it!”

His body lit ablaze as he took to the lump, kneading into the tender walls as the testicle throbbed beneath its layer. Fervin’s fingers raced to subdue his efforts, but the sac was too full to add enough pressure, Merkeo using it as a shield as battered the walls with his own body.

After moments of struggling, a roar of defeat erupted from Fervin." Fuck it! Fine I’ll get you out.” he announced. “Was getting tired of hauling you around anyway."

The testicles swayed as he wandered outside. It wasn't long before pressure built beneath, the opposite testicle shifting before it dropped off a ledge. The sound of wet slaps returned from above, sending ripples in the chamber as the testicular sac compressed Merkeo's face.

"Ugh, my suit is so ruined, can't you pump faster?"

"Don't get your tidy widdies in bunch ya nerd, I'm almost there."

The walls flexed harder, compressing his feet as he squeezed along the hump like paste in a canister. The valve slowly began to quiver, widening slowly a seed rushed through its mouth. It flowed into its tubes like a pipeline, gulping periodically at the substance as he himself was pulled close to its lips.

Strands of his own hair were plucked between the soggy lips, crowning his head as seed piled his shoulder. But flex ceased as the narrow tube dried up, clamping at his head as seed disappeared into the abyss above. "What the? What's the hold up?"

A muffled ring vibrated the walls, the pounds halting as the jock shifted slowly. "Got a call." Fervin said, answering the device. "Bandi, my boy, what's up? Yeah I’ve been in town, just letting out some steam."

"Hey! Don't stop, keep going!"

"Give me a fucking minute, I'll get there…no no, just talking to a nerd is all I-…wait seriously?! Oh shit, count me in!"

The sac rattled from the jock’s excitement. "What are you doing out there?"

"The boys found a goldmine for some chicks from the cheerleading squad at the university. Looks we're heading to the bar."

"What?! What about me?! You still have to take me out!"

"I'll fetcha ya later, Right now I gotta fetch old faithful from the drawers. I'm gonna catch me a big one tonight"

The chamber thrashed as he braced himself for another tide, the thick goop dragging down his body like syrup. He stretched his limbs to pierce the tender muscle, but pouted at the meat pocket. Unbelievable, he was about to be free from this hellhole before that phone call. He couldn’t bear more of Fervin’s antiques for god knows how, but it appears he didn’t have much choice.. Before he knew it, the chamber moved as steps trailed outside, a door muffling open as the purrs of the truck returned.

And so began the trip to the bar. Voices muffled from the walls as Fervin greeted his friends, softer tones following them as he assumed they were women. His hips gyrating was the confirmation he needed, if not rhythmic throbbing from the shaft.

The minutes felt like an eternity as jazz played from the bar, glasses clanging together as the jock’s obnoxious chattering filled the void. His ears submerged in seed was a mercy compared to listening to the awful pick up lines he spewed from his mouth.

"This is so humiliating." he groaned.

"Hey baby, there's no need to take a seat on these raggedy old chairs, come take a gander at this one" Fervin said, heavy thumps causing the sac to dip.

Pressure ensued as the testicle rolled at his back. His torso sunk like an island landscape, dipping beneath the murky fluid as it climbed to his chin. He struggled beneath the titanic weight above, the thigh outside bouncing as it jostled the chamber..

"Oh my, you make a pretty good seat." A woman's voice said above.

"Oh ho baby, I can do more than just cushion."

"Oh for fuck sake." Merkeo covered his ears, hoping to drown out the conversation.

Another hour drew by as he listened to the oaf's bantering. At one point, chattering dwindled before the nutsack spilled forward, and the crushing weight was relieved. Fervin was on the move, the sounds of the bar growing distant until it became white noise in the background.

He scraped the wall before placing his ear against it, curiosity overwhelming him as he listened to the jock’s steps. The zipper of the pants were undone, and he spilled forward as flesh caught his fall.

"Here they are my dear, my pride and enjoy in all its glory."

"You weren't lying, it certainly is thick."

“He’s with a girl, of course he is.” his side cramp as a lump fondled his back, He squirmed to ease its protrusion, elbowing the testicle as the jock released a grunt.

"Is everything all alright?" The woman asked.

"Oh yeah sure, everything is just fine. Just a little..excited is all." Fervin replied. "Afterall, how can a guy not melt for a hot doll like yourself."

The chamber shook as the lump flattened, seed rushing from the other end like a dam as it splashed into Merkeo. Slow wet pounds filled the void, the testicle compressing before it squashed into his body. A disgruntled moan pierced the air as the sac swayed forward, a dulled edge separating the balls as softer moans echoed ahead..

God, She's sucking him off, as if his problem weren't already wacky enough. He fought the testicle to plug his ears, but its ridge forced them away, allowing the demented display to continuing as it intensified. The pressure returned as digits cupped behind him, thinner than the ones before as their pointy ends prodded his back.

The pool increased as it climbed over his head, a current seeping into the valve as it widened closer. Muscle contraptions echoed beyond the thick walls, glurking as the women's moan grew fierce. The sac pulse, and the valve widened as it guzzled seed to the surface..

"Hope you're thirsty, cause I'm gonna unleash my load inside."

"Like hell you are!" Merkeo blurted, thrashing from the chamber.

The lump prodding at his back vanished beneath murky waves, the balls dropping as they bashed against the jock’s thigh. "Did your balls just talk?!" The woman squealed.

"N..no? Did you hear them talking? I..I didn't hear them talking."

"Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting."

The sound of boots muffled from the outside, growing softer as the chamber thrashed about. "No! Come on babe, Come back!" Fervin called desperately for her, the door slamming shut. A vice grip wrapped the testicle, and Merkeo was smothered into the walls. "Damn it you nerd, you scared her off!"

"I scared her off?! I was nearly protein for her! I'm trying to get out from inside you, not end up in another."

"Well congratulations cause now I'm fucking limp, thanks for that." A bang sounded from outside as the jock began to walk. "Can't believe I got cock blocked by a nerd."

The sac rocked between his legs as the creaking door lingered from overhead, trailing off somewhere behind them as the sound of the roaring crowd returned. Merkeo tucked himself against the corner pocket of the chamber, it was the only place he could manage to breath without intaking the salty seed. He heard the jock's friend talking, reminiscing over the cheerleader storming out of the bar. His response wasn't pleasant, a squeeze smother the eager testicle against his head as if to point the blame upon him. but it relented as he relaxed, his balls drooping at the thigh.

He curled against the opposite wall, before a buzz rumbled from above, his phone squeezing from the compressed fold as it slid in front of him.

a photo appeared from beneath the milky substance, a group photo with his friends dressed in their fictional costumes. Speak of the devil, he thought, here comes the fruits of his labor reminding him of his failed attempt. What he would give to be there right now. He focused on the group photo, admiring the designs each of them chose to wear. but his eyes furrowed as he caught a glimpse of one of the members, his eyes widening.

"No way.."

That late night dragged into Sunday morning, as Fervin drove back into the dorm room as he tossed his backpack. Merkeo eyed the quivering sphincter above as its lips expanded, the walls compress as he catapulted into the tight tube. The ride up was rigid and slow, but fast enough to wipe seed clean from his skin before he squeezed back into the embrace of the jock's prostate. In a firm push he climbed up the urethral tube, skyrocketing into a tupperware container as he collided against the plastic wall.

The jock scorned above, the milky stream pouring faster as he shielded his face. "Alright that's enough!"

"Not yet it's not." Fervin said grumpily.

the stream pushed at his palms, piercing their way through as he slid into the smooth corner, it was only until his palm remained uncovered did it finally stop, and the slit sealed shut.

"Now it's finished” Fervin sneered at his handy work, shaking the drizzle from his cock before turning toward his stuff.

"Hold it!" Merkeo muttered, rising from the gunk. "We're.. we're not done."

"oh we're not huh? and what makes you say that?"

"You cost me the whole weekend! you have to make up for it!"

"Wha?.." the jock burst from laughter. "What are you on about, you're the nerd who got stuck in there in the first place."

"Only because you put me there. and nearly got me swallowed."

He rolled his eyes, fanning at the remark as Merkeo climbed out of the container. In a slippery leap, the little roommate lunged as he clung to the tufts of his jersey. It was like holding onto a moving vehicle, seed soaking his suit fanned to the luggage on the floor. Fervin drew closer to the computer desk, and jumped as he followed him to the tissue box, stomping at its opening as the giant palmed reached for it..

the jock's face soured. " You're really starting to get on my nerves."

"Likewise, but I'm not letting you off the hook. you’re going to pay up, right here, right now."

"Oh you gotta be shitting me." he chuckled. "Fuck it, I'll bite. What? What could a little nerd like you do to force me to pay you back."

He dug into the soggy pouch of his pocket of his suit, taking out his phone. He clicked at the photo, holding it to the air as Fervin's face loomed closer. "This is how!"

"Hah! What more nerds? Get over yourself."

"They may look like mere nerds to you. But one of them I'm sure you know quite well." he zoomed the photo closer, focusing on a woman dressed as a witch. "That lady right there is Cindy, the lead cheerleader of our university. I wonder what she might think if she finds out about our little mishap. I'm sure she'd love to share the adventure with the football captain."

The jock’s eyes widened before narrowing. "You don't have the balls to go through with that."

"Oh yeah? One already think's you have talking balls, I'm sure they can puzzle the rest if I speak up."

The jock growled, reaching a palm as the thick digits twitched in rage. it lunged forward, yanking a tissue from beneath Merkeo’s feet as it crumpled into a withered mess. "What do you have in mind?.."

"Heh."

"It's so good to see you again, Merkeo” Cindy greeted him, lowering a finger as he shook her hand. We missed you last night’s session. You’re wearing your night costume again?”

He scratched at his head, adjusting his cape. "Yeah, the other suit kinda got stuck in a rut. Fashion crisis am I right? But hey, we at least got time to catch up on a session. I even brought a plus one."

Heavy thuds came from the hallway, sharp squeaks lingering as a silhouette peered through the frame. An inflated dragon loomed in, Fervin’s soured face tucked beneath its chin as the rest of the rubbery suit hauled inside, he grumbled as he wrestled his tail inside, bumping it against the door.

"I'm sure you two know each other."

"We sure do.” Cindy said, “I didn't think he took part in DnD."

"You could say he had a change of heart." He replied, sharing glances with Fervin as his fiery gaze overshadowed the derpy expression of the inflatable.

They prepared the table as they all encircled it, Merkeo taking out the dice as many took their roles. scattered the props along the props behind the bordered sheet, he cleared his throat. "Alright ladies and gents, let’s begin. The adventurers set out upon the request of the king, a dragon has been spotted in a cave near the kingdom. You find the entrance and travel through its catacombs. There, surrounded by shimmering gold and diamonds, lay the beast. Sprawled upon its haunches as it snarled at your intrusion.”

Merkeo paused as he scooped the dice in hand, lending them to one of the members dressed as a wizard. “Care to start us off.”

"Oh Oh! I roll to ride the ride dragon"

"Try it and I'll flatten you like a crumpcake, pinhead!" Fervin snarled.

"Ah ah, not without a roll you're not." Merkeo assorted, nodding toward the little wizard.

The wizard squeed as they shook their hands in place, the dice jumbling like ice cubes as they rolled them to the thin sheet crossing the table. both dices toppled themselves, number nine marking the both of them.

"ooo, Nat 18. the wizard casts a construct to cast himself atop the dragon."

The wizard let out a high pitched squeal as They climbed aboard the inflatable forearm. Fervin eyed in disgust as the little one stood atop of him. the googly eyes of the dragon jangled as they clung to one of the ears, pulling it from one side of his body to the other.

the dragon squeaked as it smothered Fervin’s face, his neck jerking from side to side. "Hey! what the-?!"

“Wow, you really are pulling your weight." Merkeo said. I figured you'd make a good dragon.”

"Get them the fuck off me!"

"mm, not how it works. you gotta announce it, then roll."

"Oh for the-" he reached for the dice at the end of the table, fingers denting the barrier as they rattled. "The dragon attempts to throw the nuisance off."

He flung the dice forward, their forms streaking across the table like cannons as they pushed the barrier back. The dice came to a standstill, number one marking them both.

"Ooo two, the dragon failed to throw the wizard off. bummer."

"The hell?! what kind of bullshit is that I-"

"Our rodeo isn't over yet, dragon!" the wizard yelled, heaving at the inflated ears like reins. "Your hide will be a fine reward for my potions!"

"Crushing you is still on the table you damn pest!"

Merkeo watched as the two of them bicker, admiring the jock's flailing as he walked sluggishly against the walls. but he turned his head as Cindy whispered for his attention, lending an ear toward her.

"He seems pretty aggressive for a DnD player, Are you sure he's here to play?" She asked.

He looked toward the two once more, the wizard yanking backward as Fervin pivoted like a horse on a hill. He smiled as he placed a hand on his cheek. "Oh yeah, I'm sure."

[ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm]

wip whatever day

something from my very elaborate expanded draco-in-mundane-apocalypses universe. the rest of fic has a lot of game theory and mountain goats references

On Tuesday afternoon, the entire state of Florida sank into the ground. Not at all slowly, like quicksand, but in a manner more akin to swallowing, to a vacuum without an air lock or something pulled in on a lizard's tongue. Draco was at work when it happened and all but one of the wall-mounted television screens interrupted their various sports broadcasts to live feeds of affiliate stations, footage of men and women in suits doing their best to keep straight faces while plugging in words like vanished and unclear and contact and grid. Draco was in the middle of scanning the slips from the morning shift - most of them Nascar and the Icelandic Counter Strike league when all the screens flickered in clunky synchrony, drew his eyes up from his work. There's nothing you can film when something disappears, so the b-roll was an odd collage of people standing on state lines outlined by a yawning void, of fences and highways cut off like string, of loops of CCTV that stops like someone switched off the lights. The shop was empty, had been since he'd kicked out the regular huddle of truant teenagers and would be until the 5pm rush.

Draco reacted the way he usually does to catastrophe, which is to say he did nothing at all except feel the small muscles running along the vertebrae of his neck tense, the way they do when someone brings up tendons and cutting throats. A delicate tap to the tiled floor beneath - still there. A glance through the window - the grey afternoon untouched. One of the Sky Sports channels had switched to the news and the news presenter was wearing the same glasses as someone in a split-screen on CNN. One of the screens showed footage from the gulf of mexico, a fishing boat on the water, but the water was sliced clean through with black. It would have been 11am in Tallahassee, said the big LED clock on the wall. It was funny to see the name on the wall, Miami somewhere slightly higher up. There were seismological readings coming in on some of the screens now, 3D visualisations and graphs that plummeted down and then shot right back up. None of them seemed to mean anything, as far as anyone knew. There was a neon globe spinning on RAI 2, the same as always except for one glaring hole. When Draco was little, before the world expanded dramatically and then reduced to this little life of lockboxes and betting slips and freezer-friendly meals, he was taught about the old wizarding conception of the world. His governess taught him that it was once believed that the globe was full of itself in reverse, like a dome collapsing, like a reciprocal fraction. That it was how they made sense of un-being, of vanishing spells - a thing that cancels itself out, hidden somewhere deep under the core.

There was a live feed from the white house now on every screen, staffers scurrying around a podium no one was stood at yet. A brief pain shot through the muscles in his left palm, right by the wrist, bone deep and startling. Fear, understanding, certainty, doom and then - he'd been leaning against the clunky keyboard, pressing down too hard. The world sharpened, sounds and colors coming in at the end of a release of pressure, humming like a tuning fork. A cacophony of ding-s and abberated notifications was ringing out from the computer, from whatever processes he'd accidentally triggered. A dry noise outside broke through the sound.

[vangoghmusings]

watch me

“Hey princess, are you ready?”

It had been several months after the embarrassment that was the “you said his name” incident. You would’ve never thought that 5 months later Daichi would be your boyfriend who not only supported your cam-girl career, but assisted with it. As by primal instinct to claim his territory, Daichi asked for an ultimatum. As long as you’re a cam-girl, he has to be a part of it. It truly was a winning situation all around. Daichi found a way to pay off his student loan debt and got to spend more time with you, and you got to continue your growing career all while getting playful with your boyfriend every Thursday. Everything had fallen into place.

“Almost!” You chimed while entering your bedroom. On your bed sat Daichi, adjusting the camera, bitting his lip in concentration.

“This new lens is so cool! We should snap some pictures when we go on our date to the zoo on Saturday.”

You grinned and sat beside him. Daichi was always planning cute dates for the two of you and new things to do. For the coming Saturday, he promised a day at the zoo with a picnic over looking the lake that was near by. He really was a sappy romantic.

“I’m ready when you are, we just need our masks.”

Daichi nodded, grabbing your classic mask and his black ski mask that became a staple for his “Cherry Daddy” brand. As students wanting to form your own careers in your majors, you decided it would be best to continue keeping your identities a secret.

Once you both put your masks on and positioned yourselves on the bed, you began the live stream.

“Hey everyone! It’s Cherry Baby here!”

“And Daddy.”

“And we have an extra special show for you all today!”

After doing your usual introductions and thank you’s for donations, Daichi pulled out the long awaited ‘special surprise’.

A brand new pair of fluffy hand cuffs.

“These are your favorite color right?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how he always acted so considerate, even during a scene.

“Yes they are,” you answered with a smile.

Daichi nodded proudly and proceeded to cuff your hands to the metal post of your bed, the chain linking around. It was a comprising position and from the little ‘ka-ching’ noises coming from the computer, the viewers seemed to like it just as much as Daichi did.

You hummed patiently, waiting for your boyfriends next move.

“Now let’s get these off you, hm princess?”

With gentle fingers, Daichi slid off your underwear and tossed them to the floor. He adjusted himself, kneeling along side you. He moved one knee to press against your heat, slowly moving it. The friction caused the already inkling wetness to grow. While Daichi pressed his constantly shifting knee against you, he loomed over your body with hungry eyes while he unbuttoned his shirt. He always dressed fancier for the streams as a sort of uniform because “you always have cool outfits, I need my own”.

You hissed as your wetness grew. Daichi loved a slow burn and to push your desires. You on the other hand, could wait for him to fuck you senseless.

The second Daichi tossed his shirt to the ground and got down on his elbows, picking up your legs and setting one on his shoulder and pushing the other one back, giving the camera a glorious view of your gleaming pussy.

“Mm, you’re so dirty, princess. Soaking wet just from my knee touching you?”

You whimpered, practically begging for him to do something more than tease you, even if you loved it.

In one swift robotic movement that had been done many times, Daichi lifted the hem of his mask and settled it right at the bridge of his nose. With a firm grip on your pushed out thigh, he buried his face in between your legs.

He was well practiced with you, but that’s what having a cam-show will do. His nose brushed against your yearning clit while his tongue ran along your folds.

“Fuck,” Daichi groaned against you, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you, “you always taste so fucking good.”

Daichi was obsessed with going down on you. Any chance he got, he always wanted to wear your thighs as earmuffs.

Your breath hitched as Daichi got more aggressive, dipping his tongue in your tight wet hole. The noises were absolutely lewd, but you, Daichi, and the viewers loved them.

You felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten, as small moans and pleas fell from your mouth. Tighter and tighter, so close to snapping and so quickly denied as Daichi pulled away and smirked down at your pouting face. Your thighs begged to close together to grant you so form of relief, but Daichi’s python grip kept your legs apart, allowing the camera to see how needy and wet your quivering pussy was.

“I was so close!”

“Now now princess, keep complaining and I won’t let you cum at all tonight.”

You frowned and nodded, shutting your mouth.

Daichi stood up and leisurely rid himself of his pants and boxers. His cock sprung out and hard, nearly slapping his stomach in anticipation. Your mouth watered at the sight and by hungry instinct you opened your mouth.

“What a good girl, always knowing what daddy wants.”

Daichi placed his hard length against your lips and you happily took him in your mouth. Humming lowly, you sucked and bobbed your head in rhythm, causing low groan to come out of Daichi.

“S-so good princess,” he said while lovingly caressing your cheek.

You felt heat rise to your face. Even during a stream Daichi managed to show how much he loved you.

With his free hand, Daichi reached down, and with a sudden yelp ripping through your throat causing you to gag around him, you felt Daichi’s thick fingers curl inside you. Daichi smirked, beginning to fuck you with his fingers, making scissoring motions in your tightness, stretching you out. You whimpered against his cock and Daichi moaned in response.

“Fuck princess, just like that,” he mumbled while thrusting harder into your mouth and fucking your soaking cunt with his digits.

And there it was again, the coil beginning to tighten in your belly. You were begging for it, pleading with your eyes for permission to chase that release. But once again Daichi denied you but slipping his fingers out.

He smirked at his fingers, admiring the slick and covered them. You watched while sucking as he licked his fingers clean.

“Mm,” he hummed, pleased with the taste. He sighed and looked down at you, who had slowed the pace of your bobbing head.

“Princess, you want daddy to make you feel good?”

Daichi pulled his saliva covered cock out of your mouth, a loud “pop” filling the room. You kicked your lips and nodded up at him, wishing you weren’t cuffed so you could ride him into the next day.

“Please sir,” you whined, trying your best to show Daichi your impressive puppy dog face from underneath your mask.

A hungry smirk spread across Daichi’s face as he gave a simple nod. Making his way back between your legs, he positioned his cock at your entrance.

You huffed, he loved making you wait.

“Beg for it princess.”

You whimpered in humiliation. He had denied you twice already and you were in no position to let that happen a third time, plus you were cuffed tightly to your bed.

“Please, please sir! I was your cock inside me so bad! I want you to stuff me full of your cock- oh!”

You yelled at the unexpected stretch as Daichi began to push his length into your tightness. He noticed your shocked state and have you a loving smile- right before pushing his entire length in you.

A cry ripped from your chest as you struggled inside of the cuffs. You were dying to reach out and touch him; mark him, pull his hair, anything to help this pleasurable pain.

Your whimpers quickly turned to moans as Daichi began to thrust harshly into you. There was a rhythm, but it was quick and rough and his hard length was hitting at your cervix with punctuation.

He was so good. He was always so good.

Daichi’s head fell back, moans falling from his lips as he continued to relentlessly fuck you. Today’s goal was to fuck you absolutely stupid, and he was dying to see it.

“C’mon princess, tell daddy how good you feel?”

You cried out happily as Daichi lifted a leg of yours onto his shoulder, anchoring himself while continuing to fuck you senseless.

“So good, so good, fuck daddy!”

Those were the only coherent words that could be made out before you turned into a complete babbling mess. Daichi was hitting your g-spot with a possessive strength.

And finally, the coil began to tighten again. Hard and stronger than before, you could feel it come to it peak. You could tell Daichi was close too as he grunted and but his lip as a way to keep himself from cumming.

“Cum for me princess, cum with daddy.”

You cried out happily as the coil finally snapped, your orgasm hitting you like a massive wave, striking you with immense pleasure.

But Daichi hadn’t come yet.

No, he was still hanging on, planning on fucking you past your orgasm and into your next.

“N-no please sir, it’s too much-“

And just like that your second orgasm hit you just as hard as the first. You moaned in bliss as your eyes rolled back. The sight was enough to push Daichi over the edge, as he came hot ropes of cum inside of you. He eventually slowed his pace, allowing you to both ride out your highs.

Once he pulled out, he placed a loving kiss on your lips and went to look at the masterpiece the too of you had created.

“Fuck princess, that looks so sexy.”

Daichi was referencing to your pussy, dripping his cum and still pulsing from the intense stimulation. He quickly grabbed the camera from its stand and gave a close up to your cum-stuffed cunt.

“Isn’t she pretty?”

You giggled softly as the computer buzzed with so many ‘ka-chings’ it sounded like one continuous ring.

Daichi set the camera back on its stand and uncuffed you, helping you get up slowly to sit up and say good bye.

“Thanks again for joining us today.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled and nodded, still dazed from your intense orgasms.

Daichi chuckled and turned back to the camera.

“I’m going to get Cherry Baby all cleaned up now. Have a good night Cherry pickers!”

Daichi waved and signed off, the camera shutting down.

“Our fans have the weirdest name,” you mumbled and rubbed your thighs.

Daichi laughed softly removing both his and your masks and scooped you into his arms.

“How are you feeling? Up for a bath before we go to Kenma’s for sundaes?”

You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, we both need a bath. You did good job.”

Daichi smiled proudly and pecked your lips lovingly.

“So did you princess”

As Daichi carried you to the small bathroom of your apartment for hot shower, you could really only think of one think.

You really loved him.

[nbrook29]

Okay it seems like they’re gone for the time being so 👀

Part 2&3 of Sander in NYC ‘verse ⬇️

The clock strikes midnight on his bedside table while Robbe is stretched on his bed, head propped on his hand as he’s staring at his computer screen, weariness coursing through his body. He stifles a big yawn and tries to blink the sleep away, but it doesn’t do much to erase the feeling of what seems to be yet another longest day he’s had. Wiggling his butt to find a more comfortable position, he reaches for his phone and opens instagram to kill time. After scrolling for a few minutes he gives up, the app failing to distract him from his heavy thoughts and only making him more irritated in the process.

He tosses the phone on the mattress with frustration, sighing deeply. Staring mindlessly at the ceiling doesn’t make the clock tick any faster so he allows himself to close his eyes.

Just for a little, just for a moment. Long enough so he can pretend he can feel a dip in the mattress and that there’s a certain someone lying by his side, only mere millimeters separating their bodies instead of 5,870 kilometers.

In the end, it makes him feel even worse than he has the whole day. Because there is no one next to him when his fingers venture out tentatively, grazing the sheets on the side of the bed that has been Sander’s since that November night.

The memory makes him smile a little, albeit involuntarily. But how can he not when he remembers the boy’s pouty face, petulance in his voice when he refused to sleep on the left side, stubborn like a bratty five-year-old, and Robbe would have laughed at his expression if he hadn’t been gazing at him like a fool in love the entire night. So he of course granted him HIS own preferred side, getting an abundance of kisses all over his face in gratitude and tickles that almost woke the whole house up.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Not then, and not many times later. What’s the point of choosing sides when most of the time they would sleep on each other’s chest anyway, head tucked in the crook of the other’s neck, nose squished into the underside of the jaw despite the tickling sensation of barely there stubble? Or, during other nights, curled into each other in spooning position, no space between them.

The incoming messenger call rudely disrupts his musings, preventing him from almost falling asleep, and he pushes himself up a bit and scrubs his face, fingers running quickly through his hair to make it look at least a little more presentable.

The face that greets him after he answers the call makes his eyes sting but he blames it on exhaustion.

“Hey, cutie.”

Beautiful. He looks so beautiful. Hair in disarray, cheeks rosy and he’s positively glowing, grinning at him with the same adoration and love he always has and Robbe’s heart is bursting with how much it hurts not to be able to cup his cheek right now.

They haven’t talked since last Thursday, both of them so busy with college work. The fact that there are 6 hours between them isn’t exactly helping. They have been messaging back and forth a lot, but it wasn’t the same.

Lately, Robbe has been feeling like a crucial part of him was ripped off and boarded the plane to New York along with Sander. It’s been a struggle without him here and not letting Sander notice how much he's hurting has been a struggle on its own.

“You’re okay?”

Robbe must’ve been staring without a word for longer than he thought because when he focuses properly he notices a small frown on Sander’s forehead.

He plasters a fake smile on his face. “Yeah! Sorry, just tired.”

He shrugs in hopes it will help to sell his cheeriness better, but the way Sander regards him with concern makes him doubt it.

“Robbe…”

Cutting him off quickly, he starts rambling. “So how was that school trip yesterday, huh? Still not bored of MoMA? I mean, you’ve been there like a hundred times by now,” Robbe ends on a teasing note, eyebrows wiggling for a better effect, anything to not let him notice he’s not okay.

It works, Sander’s face partially offended, partially scandalized at such outrageous suggestion, and he breathes out with relief.

“Excuse me, skater boy, some of us have enough taste to appreciate modern art for its greatness-”

“Yeah, art nerds.”

Sander’s jaw drops comically at his triumphant expression. “Oh my god, you’re such a brat!” He shakes his head in faux-disapproval, but the smile doesn’t disappear from his eyes as he easily gets into their usual banter. “Wish I was there to snog you into submission,” he adds, chuckling, unaware of the turmoil inside Robbe, who’s trying to hold on for dear life, blinking the tears away.

This time though, his smile fails to be convincing enough. Sander’s laughter dies out, his eyes searching Robbe’s for answers.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

Robbe squeezes his lips together to keep the emotions at bay and lowers his eyes so Sander couldn’t read him like an open book. He squirms on the bed, trying to give himself time so make sure his voice won’t quiver and that he can sell this thing.

“Nothing.”

“But that’s not true, I can see that.” He’s speaking so gentle, so soothingly.

It doesn’t make him raise his head, eyes still glued to the mattress as he’s twisting his fingers hoping Sander will just let it go.

Cause he doesn’t want him to know. That he’s a mess. That he’s not doing that good.

He doesn’t need to know he’s been watching his wandelingen videos on repeat. That he misses him so much he created a TikTok account to ‘stalk’ his new classmates accounts to catch a glimpse of him laughing and having fun when they’re hanging out, having picnics in Central Park despite low temperatures or drinking coffee and acting like dumbasses at Union Square.

He doesn’t need to know the reality hit Robbe hard and that he’s not the best at coping.

That he’s anxious because the texts between them aren’t as frequent as they used to be in the beginning.

That he had a serious fallout with Jens after already losing touch with Moyo and Aaron.

That he feels lonely.

And that’s missing him like a limb.

He doesn’t want him to know because Sander’s going to worry about him and that’s not why he went away to New York for five months. Correction, six months.

Yeah, that lovely update didn’t exactly make his mood lift when he found out a week ago about Sander having to extend his stay to be able to participate in the February art show his school holds.

There’s still three and a half months before he can bury his face in the crook of his neck and taste his lips. Touch is Robbe's love language so to say he misses the way Sander's hands feel on him would be an understatement of the year. And they both know by now Sander’s not coming back for Christmas despite his promise he’ll try.

“Please talk to me, please, baby.”

One shaky breath after another and Robbe feels wetness on his cheeks, mortification filing him when he realizes it’s tears, and Sander now has a clear view of the situation.

Still, he tries to deflect one more time, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve surreptitiously.

“It’s nothing, really… I’m okay, just miss you.” Another unconvincing smile.

He knows Sander is watching him like a hawk, confused and worried, he can feel it without even lifting his eyes to the screen. When he peaks just for a moment, he sees the desperate look on his face.

“I miss you too, so much, you have no idea,” he pauses, shifting closer to the screen like he wants to physically be closer to him, somehow. “But I know that’s not all, so please tell me what’s wrong so I can help you. Did something happen? Is your mom okay?”

Robbe nods because thankfully, everything has been going smoothly in that area. His mom’s been doing better than he could have hoped for, actually.

“Then what is it?” he keeps pressing, stubbornly, adamant to figure it out, but Robbe really doesn’t feel like talking about it.

“Look, it’s not a big deal, I just had a rough few days, okay? Can we talk about something else?” he pleads, but to no avail.

“No, we can’t because I don’t understand why you don’t want me to help you, Robbe.”

There’s a hint of annoyance in his voice, the confusion getting to him, and Robbe feels even worse, curling a little into himself.

“I just- I don’t wanna bother you-”

“What?” Sander sounds stunned. “Bother me- what the hell?”

“I just want you to have fun there, I’m gonna be fine.”

When Robbe glances back at the screen, he’s met with Sander’s eyes boring holes into him, quietly assessing him, and he knows it’s far from over.

But he’s just so tired. With this week, and his school work, with his emotional state and lonely nights. He’s just really tired.

On the screen, Sander sighs, scrubbing his face with his hand, his silver ring glinting in the computer light. A while passes before he finally speaks, quietly, looking back at him.

“You know, I feel like you think our skype calls are like chores for me that I keep in my calendar and can’t wait to tick off and be done with.”

Robbe opens his mouth, but no words come out, his sleep-fogged brain taking its time to sort through Sander’s word.

“Wow, you really think that?” Robbe hates himself for the hurt lacing Sander’s words. “You really think I don’t miss you? That I don’t count days until I can see you again for real, are you serious, Robbe?”

“Don’t get mad at me,” he asks in a small voice, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling.

“I’m not-”, Sander cuts off, lacing his fingers on the back of his lowered head, clearly frustrated and at loss of what to say next. “I just thought we were honest with each other, that we were communicating.”

The comment stings, even if it wasn’t meant to, and Robbe swallows the bile rising in his throat. Sander’s disappointed, he can see that, but he’s honestly not in the right state of mind right now for long talks about his feelings and insecurities.

“I should go.”

Sander's head shots right up at that. "Robbe, wait-"

"Don't worry about me." He sends him a forced smile before shutting his laptop and pushing it away from himself, breathing shakily as he hides his face in his hands.

Several notifications ping on his phone, but he ignores them all, knowing they're from Sander.

It's funny how this morning he thought he couldn't feel worse.

***

Friday 6:20 pm EST from Sander

Please pick up so we can talk

Or text me

Robbe?

I'm so worried

Friday 6:45 pm EST from Sander

I love you okay? ❤

Friday 8:03 pm EST from Sander

It's 2 am at yours so I hope you're asleep but I just need you to know that I love you and whatever it is you're going through we'll deal with it together okay?

Friday 8:07 pm EST from Sander

I think about you everyday and I miss you everyday

And it doesn't matter my trip here was supposed to be fun or whatever

I'm still your boyfriend and me being away doesn't change the fact that I want to be there for you

You should know that by now

You're not some kind of duty for me, it breaks my heart you'd think that

Your problems matter to me

I'm here, always, remember?

Please text me when you wake up ❤

Ik zie u graag Robin ❤❤❤😘

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #241: DARK ANGEL!

March, 1984

The Magical Menace of MORGAN LE FEY!

Hey, uh, Morgan. The pink dimension looks like its bad for your skin? You might want to see a dermatologist?

Also, stop squeezing She-Hulk! She’s not a novelty toy and her eyes don’t pop out in any way you’d want.

Oh! The Avengers book has gone from The Avengers to the Mighty Avengers again. Wonder why.

Anyway.

Last time on As the Avengers Turn: The Avengers get a call from San Francisco that Jessica Drew Spider-Woman is in a coma. Also, that Jessica Drew Spider-Woman is a person they know. They’ve forgotten. The whole world has forgotten because Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman had a wizard mind wipe the world of her existence after she went back in time and shoved Morgan Le Fey out of a tower.

Dammit, what is it with spiders and mindwipes??

The ghost of Morgan is keeping Jessica’s mind separate from her body, hoping to get her revenge by killing Jess and then stealing her body to revive herself.

The Avengers call in Dr Strange and World’s Best Biophysicist Hank Pym to help deal with Coma Jess (but not that one) and some of Jess’ friends like Tigra and the Shroud are also hanging around.

This time on Avengers of Our Lives:

Running and shouting in the hospital? Jessica Drew may be at stake but common courtesy is still a thing!

This random assortment of everyone who wasn’t already in the hospital room rushes towards the hospital room but finds that there’s some manner of glowing barrier blocking the entrance.

Doctors and nurses bang on the glow fruitlessly and Wasp joins them in that by blasting it to no effect.

Wasp: “Hmmm, my Wasp’s sting can blow a good-sized hole in any ordinary wall! This is a bother!”

You’ve kinda scaled back from bragging you could blow up a house, Jan.

Tigra goes to scratch the glowing barrier and just falls right through it.

Cue pratfall noise.

After some frightening expressions from She-Hulk, Wasp and She-Hulk figure hey maybe we can just go right through too!

And they doooo!

Shroud feels some resistance from the barrier but when he thinks about how worried he is about Jessica Drew, the barrier lets him through.

Meanwhile, the assorted medical staff still can’t get in hah

Inside, the heroes learn that the barrier was put up by Dr. Strange to keep out medical staff. Those trained professionals will just get in the way.

Scarlet Wanda the Witch also recaps for the people who weren’t in the room what happened last time with Spider-Woman’s ghost trying to reunite with her body but bouncing off and becoming a photo negative. And that if they can’t jam her spirit back into her meat, Jessica will be left a mindless vegetable foreverrr.

Also, Jessica’s vital signs are fading fast and Dr. Strange is needing to put a lot of attention to keeping Jessica’s astral form together.

It will be up to someone else to investigate!

Dr. Strange: “Whatever force is behind this, it must be incredibly powerful!”

Morgan, helpfully showing her entire hand: “Power?! Hah! You cannot begin to comprehend the extent of my  power!”

It will be up to nobody to investigate because Morgan Le Fey is going to just broadcast her involvement, turning Dr. Strange’s barrier into a wide-screen tv.

Morgan Le Fey: “Hear me, mortals -- I am Morgan Le Fey, and I was all but supreme in the arts of sorcery, centuries before you were born! I shall not brook any interference in my quest for revenge upon Jessica Drew... she who called herself Spider-Woman!”

Morgan lays out all her grievances viz being pushed out a window by Jessica and her evil schemes ie stealing Jessica’s body but She-Hulk is She-Hulk and less than impressed.

She-Hulk: “You think we’d let you just waltz in and take over somebody else’s body?!”

Morgan Le Fey: “If you are wise, yes!”

She-Hulk: “No way, sister! And as for striking us down... I’d like to see you try!”

Morgan Le Fey: “Hah-ha-ha-hah-ha! Very well! But first -- let us have a bit of... fun!”

And Morgan summons a bunch of evil beasties and tendrils and pink beads strung together through the portal at the heroes.

Dammit She-Hulk, you antagonized the magic lady!

Dr. Strange blocks some of it but he’s still mostly tied up with keeping Jessica’s soul alive sooooo someone else get on this.

So someone else gets on it. The Avengers and other superheroes leap to fight these random spell effects as they do best. Mostly by punching. And there’s some blasting.

Shroud finds that the darkness he controls seems to disorient the creatures Morgan summoned. Handy!

But they’re just holding the line there and if they keep playing defensive, Jessica Drew is going to die since Morgan is blocking her soul from her body. So they need to take the battle to Morgan.

Thankfully Janet “Magic is a little out of the Avengers’ line” van Dyne has a plan.

The mystical window Morgan le Fey was doing magic through suddenly clouds up with Shroud’s darkness. She blows away the darkness with demon winds, as ya do, but when the winds clear away the darkness, bam, Scarlet Witch, She-Hulk, Shroud, and Starfox!

Morgan turned Dr. Strange’s barrier into a window so he turned her window into a door. Fair’s fair.

And Wanda instantly manipulates the probability of Morgan falling on her ass.

Good.

Starfox flies forward to finish Morgan off but this is page 10 not page 20mumble so Morgan blasts the hapless space idiot.

Morgan Le Fey: “I don’t care how powerful you mortals think you are! I am Morgan Le Fey! No one, not even Merlin himself, could contain me forever!”

Getting punched off a tower and disintegrating was a minor inconvenience!

Meanwhile, everyone who didn’t go through the barrier window door is still in the hospital room fighting off Morgan’s spells because yes she can fight several heroes on the astral plane while also maintaining a bunch of spells in another dimension.

Even Dr. Strange has to admit that she’s very powerful.

We do get a nice follow-up on Tigra’s time on the Avengers though as Captain Marvel’s determination in the face of spooky magic inspires Tigra.

Tigra: Incredible! This stuff has her nearly as spooked as it has me, but she’s working real hard not to show it! Somehow, that makes it easier to fight this stuff! But I still don’t like it!

Wasp assists World Famous Biophysicist Hank Pym as he monitors Jessica Drew’s vitals. No time for post-divorce awkwardness, Jessica Drew is at stake! And at risk of dying soon due to the stress of all of this.

Meanwhile, back in New York at Avengers Mansion, Captain America comes home from his solo adventures. Apparently he hasn’t heard about Vision the Great and Powerful hologram head because he’s confused.

Vision explains and then Hawkeye comes in and explains in smaller words and Cap is like Oh I See.

And then a computer in the communications center explodes. As one doesn’t.

Vision: “I really must apologize for that sudden overload in the monitor systems. It’s nothing to get alarmed about, though!  I’ve rerouted that screen’s functions through a back-up system! No need to worry... I have everything taken care of! Everything!”

Dubious Cap: “Yes... I’m sure you have Vision.”

But Hawkeye pulls Cap away from his skeptical stare to take him to meet Mockingbird.

Vision: That power surge was similar to the one I detected previously -- but this one was even more powerful! The monitor overloaded before I could get a fix on it! But I msut find the source of this mysterious energy! I must! Anything capable of generating such power could upset all of my plans! And that must not be!

Hmm, I’m not sure what that power surge thing is. Could be Secret Wars lurking around the horizon... the time period is right. But more to the point, Vision, ‘that could upset all my plans’ isn’t something superheroes tend to say/think! That’s kinda ominous!

Back over at the A plot, Morgan Le Fey turns into a giant made out of random bits of terrain, as one does when one is Morgan Le Fey.

Morgan Le Fey: “ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE IN MY DOMAIN! AS YOU WERE ALL FOOLHARDY ENOUGH TO BODILY ENTER THE ASTRAL DIMENSION, I HAVE CREATED MYSELF A BODY WHICH YOU CAN BATTLE... A BODY FORMED FROM THE VERY STUFF OF THIS REALM!”

I don’t appreciate her evil schemes but I admire her energy. She’s villaining good.

Interesting that the cover still gave her ‘made out of random crap’ texture but used her normal colors instead of yellow, orange, and purple. I feel like at that point, just make her look like a normal giant Morgan Le Fey and have it be more representative of what happens than what actually happens.

Anyway.

Forcing Morgan to gigamax means less of her attention is focused on the hospital room which means all her spells there are getting weaker. Unfortunately including the barrier window door which starts shrinking. And unfortunately not including the barrier around Jessica Drew who is now in danger of going into cardiac arrest due to acute soul deficiency.

Dr. Strange decides that now, and not any moment before now, is the time to act. He uses the Eye of Agamotto to make contact with “the captive psyche of the motionless dark angel...”

So there we go. That’s why the issue is titled DARK ANGEL. This one off description of photo-negative Jessica Drew soul.

Personally, I think “The Magical Menace of Morgan Le Fey!” would have made a better title but Roger Stern and/or Mark Gruenwald probably know what they’re doing.

Dr. Strange makes contact with Jessica and empowers her with the Eye of Agamotto.

Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman: “Y-yes, I do feel stronger somehow! But I’m still so... so lost!”

Dr. Strange: “Never fear, Jessica! The light will show you the way home! Follow the light!”

Huuuuuuuuuh. Usually an iffy thing to tell someone in a coma but. I mean. He is a doctor.

But Jessica finds the.... astral winds? Some kind of winds. Which I think represent the barrier Morgan put up to keep Jessia out of her body. Anyway, there are winds and they are too mighty for Jess to make headway against.

AND THEN, MAGNUS.

He roused from Morgan’s sneak attack a bit earlier and now he’s here to narrate his entire backstory.

Because, of course.

Jessica also notes that he looks so pale but he’s the same shade of white as he’s been so I dunno.

Centuries ago, Magnus was but a student sorcerer. Merlin rejected his apprentice application so he became the student and lover of Morgan Le Fey. Because Morgan’s evil. You think she cares about student-teacher ethics?

Magnus was young and in love and convinced himself that all of Morgan’s rants about how much she hated King Arthur was totally not a problem.

And then she found the Darkhold and even Magnus realized ‘oh this isn’t great, is it?’

So he stole the Darkhold, hid it in a tower that those of evil intent could not enter, and then went on the run.

Morgan eventually found him and killed him while he was astral projecting, Magnus having to devise a spell pretty much on the spot to let him continue on as a not-Force ghost.

With great effort, Magnus could visit Earth for brief periods by possessing people. On some of those visits, he met and assisted and fell in love with Jessica.

Magnus: “Jessica, so much that has befallen you has been because of me! Morgan used you to strike at me, even as she used me to strike at you. Yes, and to my shame, I set you ‘gainst her! Because of me, you have existed these past days in a twilight between death and the life you love so much! I have seen people, good people, risking their lives to save you... I could do no less!”

So Magnus uses the last bit of his magic, and his cohesion as a not-Force ghost, to still the psychic winds and let her rejoin her body.

Not bad, Magnus.

You’re still a bit of a creep but good way to go out.

Dark Angel Spider-Woman melds back into Jessica Drew, her vitals stabilize, and she comes out of her coma.

Hooray, Jessica Drew has been undeaded!

In the astral plane, Morgan senses that the Great Jessica Drew Body Caper has been thwarted and she’s miffed.

Morgan Le Fey: “DEMONS OF CHTHON!! MY HOLD ON SPIDER-WOMAN HAS BEEN BROKEN! I CAN SENSE IT! BUT... THIS CANNOT BE!”

And while she’s distracted yelling at nobody in particular, Team Take the Fight to Morgan strikes her good.

Scarlet Witch makes it very probably that a bunch of pink explosions will explode all over her, She-Hulk and Starfox do her some punches, and the Shroud shrouds her face with shrouding darkness.

She-Hulk: “Oh, that jaw is just too tempting a target! Say ‘good night,’ Morgie! You’re gonna be a hit in the landfill business!”

You’re doing great, Jen.

Morgan Le Fey: “You... insolent... WHELP! You cannot defeat Morgan by mere physical might! I shall yet have my vengeance! If Spider-Woman is denied me I shall take your body!”

Ghost Morgan jumps out of giant rock giant Morgan to try to body-jack She-Hulk but Dr. Strange has something to say to that.

He says ‘nah.’

Or more specifically “Flame of Faltine swirl and sunder and turn ‘round this foul exchange! Let yon sorceress stay rock-bound... by the power of Doctor Strange!”

Which. To be honest. Is much cooler.

Makes sense though. He was tied up keeping Jess’ soul together for most of the issue. Not having to do that anymore meant he could slip in and punk Morgan.

She’s less than pleased.

Morgan Le Fey, from inside a giant disembodied rock version of her own head: “You’ll live to rue this day, Doctor Strange! From this day forward I am your sworn enemy!”

To be fair, you two would have wound up at odds eventually anyway if you insisted on being magical and evil so I don’t know how much remorse he’s feeling about thwarting you now. Probably none.

Anyway. Dr. Strange hurries everyone through the barrier window door portal before he runs out of effort to keep it open.

Back in Jessica  Drew’s hospital room, Hank Pym announces the cost of getting uncancelled like she was.

Hank Pym: “The ordeal you went through caused some radical changes in your body chemistry. I’m afraid that your life as Spider-Woman is over... No more sticking to walls, no more venom blasts! From now on, you’re just a normal woman!”

Okay. So, her book got cancelled and she was killed off and written out of memory. Back in June, 1983. But now in March, 1984, that death and so on is being retconned. Jessica gets to be alive again!

So why does she lose her powers?

Well. She failed the sales test. And she was originally created to squat a trademark. And Marvel only puts so much support behind their trademark squatters. If all that matters is that someone is squatting the trademark rather than the character itself, it made more sense to Marvel to cycle through characters rather than supporting something that is losing them money.

It happened to Mar-Vell (death April, 1982) to give us Monica Rambeau instead (August, 1982). And now its happening to Jessica Drew. Her time as Spider-Woman is up because Marvel is just going to try another take on the concept. Julia Carpenter, coming soon.

Of course, you can’t keep a good Jessica down, either. Kind of like when Reed Richards makes any definite statement, Hank Pym’s assertion that Jessica has been rendered powerless is going to be proven not entirely true.

Either way, Jessica is too thrilled to be alive to fuss about losing her powers. She’s going to continue private detecting even if its harder without superpowers!

Hm. Jessica Jones being a rated M for Mature expy of Jessica Drew becomes more and more obvious.

Anyway.

The Spider-Woman may be gone, but for Jessica Drew a bright new life beckons!

Yay!

Follow @essential-avengers​ for Julia Carpenter? Yes, eventually. And maybe sooner than you’d think. Unless you look up dates. Don’t look up dates. Preserve the mystery. Or don’t. I can’t stop you. You’re too strong. Also, like and follow if you like.

[goldenraeofsun]

the best day with you

Part of this verse!

Dean taps Claire on the shoulder. “You got plans for this weekend?”

Claire twists on their couch to see him and sets aside her laptop. With narrowed eyes full of suspicion, she grabs the remote and mutes Dr. Sexy. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

Dean rolls his eyes. This is why he became a teacher. To help teenagers. Not to strangle them for sassing him to his face. Sure, Claire might be a sophomore in college now, and she’s not really a teenager anymore, but Dean’s never going to see her as anything but an angsty junior in high school. Especially if she keeps up the this attitude. Dean says, as evenly as he can, “Because I want to do something with you.”

Claire grimaces. “Really? Don’t you have other boring old man friends to do things with? Like, for instance, your boyfriend?”

“No,” Dean says. “Cas is going to visit Gabriel in LA this week.”

“And you chose to stay behind with me instead?” Claire says, her eyebrows rising to her hairline.

“Yes.”

“Are you dying?” 

“What?” Dean gapes. “No!”

Claire squints at him. “Are you hoping I can score drugs for you?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I can get my own drugs, thanks. It’s one of the perks of being a real live adult.”

“Do you need money?”

“If I did,” Dean starts incredulously, “why would I ask a broke college student?”

“I don’t know,” Claire says with a shrug. “Dementia? That kicks in about now for you, right?”

Dean’s mouth falls open. “I’m barely thirty-four!”

Claire shrugs. “Alzheimers?”

“That’s a kind of dementia,” Dean tells her flatly. He runs a hand down his face. “Look, are you free or not, kid?”

Dean is pretty sure she doesn’t have plans, judging by the way she’s religiously camped out on their couch for the past two weeks straight. She's abandoned her spot only to go to the bathroom, eat meals, and, on one memorable occasion, visit her parents for Sunday dinner. The living room her space now - which is fine with him, Dean’s been doing his summer school grading at the kitchen table. Along with her computer, Claire’s got the coding handbook Charlie Frankenstien-ed for her out of a bunch of different documents, probably all downloaded and printed illegally. On the television, she cycles through daytime soaps and CW evening dramas.

Claire grins. “On Saturday or something? Yeah.”

He rolls his eyes. “Was that so hard?”

“No, but it was fun.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a handful?” Dean says as he turns to head back into the kitchen. Lunch wasn’t going to make itself, and Cas was due back any minute from his errands.

“Just my parents, every day from age thirteen to eighteen,” Claire says casually as she reaches for the remote to resume Dr. Sexy.

Dean freezes. “Hey,” he starts, not really sure where he’s going with this.

“What?” Claire snaps as if annoyed, but her face is guarded. 

“Your parents were asshats, you know that?” Dean says. “They shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about family,” Claire mutters as she turns up Dr. Sexy.

In the middle of her junior year of high school, Claire moved in with Cas for about six months.

Early in the year, she had an explosive argument with her parents about transferring from their preferred private school to Edlund High. She also came out to them.

Dean has the sneaking suspicion Claire doesn’t think she had it that bad. Her parents didn’t hit her. They didn’t kick her out. They didn’t even stop giving her her allowance.  But they didn’t talk to her for days on end. They ignored her until she needed something from them, or the other way around. By Christmas, Claire had had enough. She left.

Back then, Dean told Claire her parents were in the wrong as many times as she would let him - which wasn’t many.

Cas took the lead with her, instead. She was his family. He found her a therapist and encouraged her to make friends at Edlund. Dean didn’t really feel like it was his place. She was Cas’s niece, and Dean was the guy who stayed over a couple times a week when she was crashing there too. And then he became her teacher when the transfer to Edlund became official. Still, she wouldn’t consider him family.

“My uncle always said, ‘family don’t end in blood,’” Dean tells her seriously.

Claire slumps back on the couch. “Right,” she says dully.

Dean takes a step back, rubbing his neck as he swallows down his next few words. He’s not about to give a heartfelt lecture on family and healthy boundaries to someone who’s going to grumble and groan through it. He jerks his head towards the kitchen. “I’ll get started on-”

Claire interrupts, “But that’s not grammatically correct. Aren’t you an English teacher? Who gave you a license to teach?”

Dean snorts. “Just think about it, will you?”

“Uh huh,” Claire waves him off. “If you’re going to the kitchen, can you make me a sandwich?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. Cas finished off the strawberry jelly while he was grading essays last night, so you’re gonna have to settle for grape.”

Claire makes a face but nods. Dean’s almost at the kitchen door when she asks, “Your uncle, was he really your uncle?”

Dean shakes his head. “Not by blood. He was a good friend of my dad’s. But he was as good as family - better than, sometimes.” He swallows. Bobby’s been gone two years now. Dean had thought the grief when his dad passed was bad, but it was a whole other beast with Bobby.

Claire squints at him, looking so much like Cas Dean can’t help the warm feeling in his chest. “This is your show, right?” she asks out of the blue, gesturing to the television.

Dean blinks. “Yeah?”

And that’s how Cas finds them ten minutes later, eating PB&Js on the couch, watching Dr. Sexy - with Claire skewering every characterization and costume choice, and Dean defending Dr. Sexy’s cowboy boots with his life.

* * *

“Minigolf, really?” Claire asks as they pull into the parking lot on a bright Saturday afternoon. The early-summer temperatures are already high enough to make Dean sweat in the Impala, and Claire’s shorts could double as bikini bottoms, they’re so small.

She adds, “You realize I have a fake ID and we could probably go to a bar or something.”

“One,” Dean says as he slams the car door shut, “minigolf is a classic American pastime. Much better for your liver than drinking. And B, don’t ever tell Cas about that fake.”

 Claire clambers out of the car. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Just making sure,” Dean says airily as he starts walking. He holds out his hand as she jobs to catch up to him. “Lemme see it.”

“Why?” she asks suspiciously as she digs for her wallet in her purse and fishes the ID out.

“Nice job,” Dean says as he holds it up to the sunlight shining overhead. “Ash?”

Claire stops short, surprised. “What?”

“Did Ash do this one?” Dean asks. “Come on,” he tells her as he nudges her shoulder to keep her moving out of the middle of the parking lot. “Nobody else does ‘em this good.”

“How do you know that?” Claire demands.

Dean laughs. “I told you I can get my own drugs.”

“Ash deals too?” Claire asks, looking hopeful.

Dean leans over to ruffle her hair. “His dope is a little out of your price range, squirt.”

“Hey!” Claire squawks as she tries to smooth everything back into place. “And nobody calls it ‘dope’ any more, you doof.”

Dean grins. “Yeah, I know.”

They enter the main building and get in line to rent the putters. It smells strongly of sunblock and worn down parental patience. A few parents wait ahead of them, all older than Dean with kids younger than Claire. A group of high schoolers are inspecting a row of putters on display on the far wall. Through the windows to the back, Dean can see a splendid display of mostly-intact astroturf and course obstacles with sun-faded paint.

The guy behind the counter is wearing an obnoxiously bright shirt and smile. “Hiya,” he says cheerily as they step up to the counter, “I’m Garth, welcome!”

“Two adults please,” Claire says quickly, like she knows Dean was going to ask for a kid’s ticket to mess with her.

“You got it,” Garth says as he bends down to grab two putters. “The bathrooms are by Hole 7, and if you want to grab lunch across the way at Fenris’s Diner, show them your receipt and you’ll get 15% off.”

Dean steps forward with his wallet. “Do you know if they have pie?”

Garth smiles wider, showing even more teeth, which Dean didn’t think was possible. “You bet! The best darn cherry pie I’ve ever tasted.”

“Awesome,” he says. “Thanks, man.”

“Thank you!” Garth says as he rings them up. “And good luck on the course!”

* * *

Dean is uncomfortably sweaty by Hole 2, and Claire piles her hair on top of her head in a messy bun to cool off her neck halfway through Hole 4.

“Swing batter, batter, swing!” Dean shouts from right behind her as she hits the ball at Hole 6.

Claire glares at him as her ball knocks against the windmill blade and skips off to the side. “That’s for baseball, idiot.”

“But you still missed,” Dean points out as he sidles up to tee. “So does it really matter? Hey!” She kicks him in the ankle as he strikes at the ball. “You cheater,” he gasps dramatically.

“So what?” Claire asks, putter swinging ominously at her side, “You gonna tell on me?”

Dean frowns. “No, but I won't buy you any pie when this is all over.” He keeps his eyes peeled for an opportunity to mess with her as she takes another stab at the windmill.

“Fine with me. I like cake better.”

Dean raises his head to gape at her. “Seriously?”

Claire throws him a funny look. “Does it matter?”

Dean’s mouth works furiously. “You ate the last slice of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving two years ago.”

Claire’s eyebrows climb to her hairline as she leans against the windmill and watches him take another stab at it. “You remember that?”

Dean hardly watches where his ball goes. “Of course I do.”

Jimmy and Amelia had elected to have Thanksgiving at Cas’s mother’s place. Cas, whose frosty relationship with his mother wasn’t helped by her dismissive attitude towards Claire, hosted a separate Thanksgiving at the (then) new house he shared with Dean. Sam and Jess flew in from California, and Claire was, of course, invited too. They were having a fucking blast, until Claire stole the last slice of pie right out from under Dean’s nose.

Claire snickers under her breath. “You’re so weird.”

Dean glares. “I called dibs.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, McMurphy,” Claire says, the liar. She crouches to get a better look at the windmill. 

Dean tries to suppress his smile. “Was that a One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest reference?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “I paid attention in your class, you know. Even if you gave me an A-minus.”

Dean grins. “But you got a 5 on the AP Exam.”

Claire does a little jig as her ball falls into the hole. 

* * *

“What the fuck?” Dean howls as his ball stops just short of Hole 9. Parents chaperoning a group of five kids at Hole 10 glare daggers at him.

Claire laughs uproariously. “Sucks to suck, old man.”

“Hey!” Dean glowers as she sinks a hole in one. 

“What’s that?” Claire holds her putter up in victory. “Did you see that? Did that go in the hole? I wasn’t watching. Did the ball go in the hole?”

“Shut up, kid,” Dean grumbles as Claire smirks. “It wasn’t funny the first time.” He concentrates on his next shot. God help him if he fucks up with his ball barely half a foot from the hole.

One of the toddlers at Hole 10 lets out an ear-splitting shriek, and Dean’s ball skips off in the direction of Hole 13.

Claire doubles over laughing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles as he sidesteps her to go fetch it, “Like you would’ve done any better.”

“I just did. Or did you miss my hole in one?” Claire asks from right behind him.

“I’m hungry,” Dean declares.

“Okay…?” Claire squints at him.

Dean nods to a hotdog stand by Hole 14. “Whaddya say to a dog?”

“Mystery meat at a roadside attraction that hasn’t been renovated since ‘97? Sign me up,” Claire says sarcastically.

Dean claps her on the back, just a shade too hard. “That’s the spirit.”

She stumbles but doesn't fall - exactly Dean’s plan - and glares at him. “If I get E. coli, it’s your fault.”

Once hotdogs are in hand, they sit and eat on a worn bench that’s more chipped paint than bench, facing a dinky little fountain. A few pennies glint dully from at bottom, almost obscured by the bright midday sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water.

“So,” Claire says after she takes her first bite. “You wanna tell me what this is all about?”

“What?”

“This whole distant dad trying to reconnect with his kid routine,” Claire says.

“I - I’m not your dad,” Dean stutters, face heating. 

“Duh. Dad was more of Church retreat guy.” She leans back on the bench, stretching out her legs, and tilts her face up to catch more sun. “I would’ve had a better time if there was no singing and 100% more hitting things.”

Dean asks haltingly, “So you don’t think this is weird?”

“What hanging out with you?” Claire asks, her smile guileless. “I heard elder enrichment is important to prevent cognitive decline, so I’m just doing my duty.” She laughs at his disappointed frown. “Relax. This has been… great.”

“Really?”

Claire finishes off her hotdog and balls up the aluminum foil wrapper. “Yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Dean gets up to put her trash and his in the garbage and manages to stow his broad smile before he gets back.

* * *

“Hole in one!” Dean crows at Hole 15.

“Do you want a gold star?” Claire snarks as she tees up.

“Shut up.”

Claire swings, and they both watch as her ball deftly navigates around the bumps and turns to sink neatly into the hole.

Dean’s smile falls off his face as Claire jumps around in victory. “Lucky shot,” he tells her as they troop to Hole 16.

“Uh huh,” Claire says. “And that makes, what seven lucky shots for me? And how many holes in one have you had?”

At the next hole, they have to wait for the large family ahead of them to finish up.

“Oh my god,” Claire mutters as one of the parents demonstrates how to properly swing the putter for the youngest child, “it’s minigolf. Not the Olympics.”

“I know, right?” Dean says in an undertone. “Who cares how she hits the ball? If she wants to bowl it down the course, let her.”

“Seriously, who gives a fuck?”

“I bet she’s gonna scream before they’re done with the lesson.”

“What?”

“Water works in 5… 4… 3…”

They wait with bated breath as, sure enough, the child sits down in the middle of the course and wails. She refuses to even touch the putter.

“How did you know that was gonna happen?” Claire asks as the family moves on. She eyes him critically. “High schoolers aren’t the tantrum type.”

“Shows what you know,” Dean snorts. No matter the point of spending today with Claire, he wasn’t about to tell her how he became an expert in toddler care. Christ, he can still remember the sticky feeling of Sammy’s vomit all over his front when he cried so hard he puked. Dean’s crime? Telling Sammy his favorite blanket needed to be washed. Dean hadn’t even taken it away yet. 

Dean tells Claire instead, “I’ve seen more meltdowns over bad essay grades than I’d like. And it’s not like I can say, well, you should have read the damn book, Ava.”

“You wouldn’t say something like that,” Claire says as she bends down to set up her ball.

“Of course not,” Dean rolls his eyes, “that makes it worse.”

Claire straightens. “No, I’m saying, you would probably ask her why she didn’t have the time to read the book; if she’s tried the audiobook instead; if you should talk to Mr. Lafitte for her since she spent too long on Algebra and didn’t get to your homework.” She shrugs, meeting his eyes briefly. “You would do something like that.”

Dean blinks because she’s got him exactly right. He’s a firm believer that there’s no such thing as a lazy student. There are unmotivated students; there are students with undiagnosed ADHD or dyslexia; and there are anxious and/or depressed students. Hell, there are students with side-jobs, bills to pay, and little brothers to look after.

“Yeah,” he agrees, discomfited. Claire was his student for one year, but her presence in class was kind of eclipsed by her rocky home life. In senior year, she was back with her parents, but she also caught up regularly with Cas. In class, she faded into the background - Kaia’s blonde shadow. Cas’s stories provided Dean with more insight than any discussion on The Plot Against America ever did.

“All the seniors loved you,” Claire says. “Max Banes would’ve slept with you if he could.”

Dean hits his ball right into the mini sand pit. “What?”

Claire smirks. “You didn’t know?”

“No!”

“Uncle Cas was right, you are oblivious,” Claire says as she whacks her ball straight into the hole.

“Hey,” Dean says, but the protest is weak. “Cas wasn’t much better.”

Claire grins. “No one’s arguing that.” She waits until Dean’s mid-swing to say, “Max would’ve slept with Uncle Cas too - which, gross.”

“Dammit, Claire!”

* * *

“Okay,” Claire says as they walk away from Hole 18. “I’m gonna need to sit in AC for at least forty-five minutes.”

They’ve been out in the sun for nearly two hours now. Dean pulls his damp shirt away from his stomach with a grimace. “You down for pie?”

“Sure,” Claire says gratefully as they leave minigolf behind them.

In the diner, the air conditioning hits them like a bucket of cold water to the face. Claire throws herself into the first both they see as Dean troops off to relieve himself in the bathroom. He checks his phone - one grumpy text from Cas about Gabriel’s inappropriate choice of swimwear for a hotel pool - and exits with a smile on his face.

Back at the booth, Claire is twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger, smiling coyly up at the waitress from lowered lashes. But Claire's inviting expression flips off like a switch as Dean drops down into the opposite seat.

The waitress’ own sunny smile takes on a distinctly plastic sheen at his arrival. “Hello!” she chirps as Dean picks up the menu. “Is there anything I can get you besides water?”

“Can I get a coke?” Dean asks the waitress - Maggie, according to her nametag. She’s tall, probably taller than Claire, and dark-haired. She seems around Claire's own age, so Dean would bet she’s only working here as a summer job.

Claire is still glaring daggers at him, so Dean asks, partly to be a dick, “And what’re you getting, Claire?”

“Water,” she says through gritted teeth.

“A coke and a water, please,” Dean says cheerfully to Maggie. 

She bobs a nod and casts a lingering look at Claire. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”

Claire kicks him under the table as she disappears into the kitchen. “You couldn’t have waited another five minutes?” she hisses “I was just about to get her number.”

Dean grins. “My bad.” 

“Now she thinks I’m here with my dad or something.” Claire crosses her arms across her chest.

Dean rolls his eyes. “You call me an old man, but I’m, what, twelve years older than you? We’re more likely to be on a date.”

Claire’s flat-out horrified face is enough to make Dean’s week. He’s still laughing as Maggie makes a return, one water and one Coca Cola in tow. 

“So what can I get you both?” Maggie asks as she reaches for her pad and pen.

“One slice of cherry pie, thanks,” Dean says brightly.

“Nothing for me,” Claire mumbles.

Maggie looks from Claire to Dean and back again. “One cherry pie,” she confirms slowly. “Should I bring out two forks?”

Over Dean’s fresh bout of laughter, Claire says loudly, “We’re not together!”

Maggie blinks a few times, and Dean can’t tell if she’s more shocked by his reaction or Claire’s. “Okay.”

As she leaves, Claire buries her head in her hands. Her voice is muffled by her hands and hair, but Dean can make out, “This is all your fault.”

“How?” Dean asks as he sucks on his straw. “It’s not my fault if you’ve got no game, kid.”

Claire slumps onto the table. “I used to.”

“Stalking doesn't count as ‘game’ or else Cas and me would have gotten together way before we did,” Dean says sagely.

Still face-down on the table, Claire flips him the bird.

“Have you spoken to Kaia lately?”

Claire doesn’t move for a long moment. When she finally raises her head, her expression is pinched. “Not since Spring Break last year. She was doing good, I guess.”

Awkwardly, Dean says, “It’s okay if you’re still hung up on her.”

Claire waves his assurances away. “It’s been a whole fucking year."

Dean sighs. “These things can take time. You were with her while a lot was going on in your life, and she was there for you through all of it. Just ’cause you're young doesn’t mean it meant less. But if you want to move on, sometimes you don’t have to wait until you’re 100% ready.”

“Thanks, Senpai.”

Maggie approaches carrying a large slice of cherry pie.

“Here you go,” Maggie says as she sets the plate down. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Nothing for me,” Dean butts in before Claire can get a word in edgewise, “But Claire, here, would like your number.”

Maggie goes bright red.

“Dean,” Claire hisses, completely mortified. “What the fuck?” She turns to Maggie. “Forget what he said. He’s a moron who doesn't know what he’s talking about.”

Maggie glances to Dean before settling back on Claire. “So… you don’t want it?”

Claire splutters, “I - no - yes, but not if-” She takes a breath, clearly trying to compose herself. “Yes, I would like your number. But not because he said so.”

“You don’t have to decide now.” Dean fishes out his wallet and takes out a five. “It won’t affect your tip,” he says with a wink as he shoves the bill under the napkin dispenser.

Maggie bites her lip. “I’ll think about it.”

Once Maggie’s left, Claire leans over the table and punches Dean, hard, in the arm. “Oh my god, are you actually braindead?”

“Hey, watch the pie!” Dean yanks his plate closer, out of Claire’s line of fire.

“What on earth possessed you to do that?” Claire demands.

Dean eyes his pie, planning his perfect plan of attack. “You needed a push in the right direction.”

Claire’s eyes flash. “I don’t need your help.”

“Tough luck, because you got it anyway,” Dean says with a shrug as portions off his first bite. “You’re only here for the summer. You don’t have the time to pine from across the softball field for a whole season.”

Claire frowns, saying warily, “I know Maggie isn’t Kaia.”

Dean points his fork, dripping with pie filling at her face. “So you gotta try a new strategy.”

“How?”

“Well, get yourself a capable wingman, for starters,” Dean says around his next bite of pie.

“Who? You?” Claire asks incredulously.

“Probably not,” Dean says, shuddering at the thought. He’d intervened with Maggie because was fucking funny as hell to see Claire get Cas-levels of awkward, but scoping out any more romantic prospects for Claire makes him feel sleazy. “I’m more of a pinch hitter.”

“What?”

“You really didn’t pay attention to a single softball game, did you?” Dean says, almost impressed.

Claire glares.

“They’re the guys called in last minute to fill in for a batter,” Dean says. He shovels the last bit of pie into his mouth, saying, “Did you keep in touch with Krissy?”

Claire shakes her head. “They were all Kaia’s friends first, so…”

“She got them in the divorce?” Dean says sympathetically.

Claire nods, her expression darkening.

“I know she’s back home for the summer too, taking care of her dad,” Dean says. “I bet she could use someone to hang with - if you ever get bored coding from our couch. Data entry for Charlie can’t be that exciting. Don’t tell her I said that.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “You don’t need to set up playdates for me, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “Suit yourself. But none of Krissy’s other friends are back home - Josephine’s abroad, and the rest of ‘em are staying in their college towns.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Dean nods. That’s probably as good as he’ll ever get with Claire - she’s not the type to gratefully accept help. She’s more likely to complain to his face while going behind his back and doing it anyway. Which, fine, if it gets Claire out of their apartment and out of her funk.

On their way out, Maggie leaves her number on their receipt.

* * *

Claire slams the Impala door shut and relaxes in the passenger seat. “Well that was fun,” she says sarcastically as Dean twists around to pull out of the parking lot without mowing down an unfortunate 1999 Toyota Camry. “Let’s do that again soon.”

“Really?” Dean asks. At her blank stare, he adds, “I never know with you. Did you really have a good time?”

She fiddles with her seatbelt, biting her lip. “I won’t say this again, so cherish this moment: today was not the worst day I’ve ever had.” She huffs out a long breath. “It was almost fun, if you forget that shit in the diner.”

Dean laughs. “I’ll take it, I guess.” He taps his fingers against the wheel as he waits for an opening in traffic to merge onto the highway. “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Claire mutters, so low he can barely hear her.

Dean lets the noise of the road take over for a few minutes: the reassuring rattling of the toy soldiers in the back air vent; his baby’s engine purring like a dream; the low ambient hum of her tires carrying them across miles of pavement.

Once he’s as calm as he’s gonna get, he says, “I have a question for you.”

Claire shoots him a look. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Dean shouldn’t have bothered asking. She really is incapable of being anything other than a teenager. 

“I’m thinking of asking Cas to marry me,” Dean says quickly. As Claire absorbs his words, his heart kicks up to double-time, hammering away in his chest. “Would you be okay with that?” 

“Why are you asking me?” Her eyebrows are drawn together in that same furrow that Cas always has whenever a student stumps him with a question. 

“Because you’re his family.” He’s honestly surprised he has to say this part out loud.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Grandmother instead?” Claire asks.

Dean shakes his head. “Cas doesn’t care about her opinion - or Jimmy’s.”

Claire takes another long moment to think that over. “So… are you, what, asking my permission?”

“Yep.”

“To marry my uncle.”

Dean shoots her a look. “I really don’t think the concept is that hard to understand.” Claire’s a smart kid. She’s probably drawing it out on purpose.

“Yeah, but -” Claire breaks off, “It’s weird, though.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You literally called me a weird old man yesterday.”

“But… not this weird.”

“It’s a yes or no question, Claire,” Dean reminds her testily.

Claire waves him off. “I mean, yes, obviously, but what the hell?” Her eyes narrow, accusatory. “Is this why you made me do this weird bonding thing with you today?”

“I -” Dean stutters. “I didn’t make you-”

“It is!” Claire crows. “Were you thinking about it for all 18 holes?”

“No,” Dean says shortly.

“I don’t believe you.” Claire grins. “Were you nervous?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I’m calling BS again. You gotta work on that poker face.” She sits back in her seat, her smugness practically radiating off her in waves. 

Dean has the strangest urge to hug her.

Claire lets her hair fall over her face as she picks at her nails. “Just so you know,” she starts in an undertone, “I know it was you who convinced Uncle Cas to take me in. Back in high school.”

“Cas wanted to be there for you,” Dean says quickly, “He just didn’t know how. Honestly,” he says with a laugh, “Cas was scared he’d piss you off more, and then where would you go?”

“Really?” Claire asks, surprised.

Dean nods. “The guy is a great teacher, but he’s not great with kids if there isn’t a desk between them, you know? He's been working on it, though. Having you around taught him a lot.”

“That makes sense,” Claire says, almost to herself. “Anyway, I’ve only really known Uncle Cas while you were together. It’d be more weird if you didn’t get married.”

Dean doesn’t bother turning on the turn signal as he pulls over to the side of the road.

“What the-?” Claire starts, twisting in her seat to look out the window. “Why’d you - oof.”

Dean wraps his arms around her, squeezing tightly.

“Ugh,” she groans, “You smell.” But she hugs him back anyway.

[drakefeathers]

anyway this is the beginning of my twewy fic that’s been consuming me for the past month. it’s like. almost 11k now. i'm so close but the last 5% goes the slowest always. neo spoilers obvs.

--

The route is a little different each time, but it follows the same rhythm. He hits up the usual spots—the scramble, Hachiko, 104. The mural in Udagawa. Then over to Cat Street, and always ending at the river, looking down into the dark entrance of that tunnel.

He’ll mix it up in between, depending on how the mood strikes. Take a loop through Dogenzaka, linger around Center Street or roll through the park. Headphones on, music playing, he keeps it loose and lets his board lead the way, hoping it’ll take him to what he’s looking for.

Scramble’s as crowded as ever today. Beat steps off his board and crosses on foot to avoid crashing into anybody. As he moves along with the stream of pedestrians he keeps an eye out for a pair of headphones, Jupiter brand clothing, a bright head of hair on a scrawny frame—the kind of familiar things that could use a second look.

In the middle of the crossing, he stops. Someone bumps into him, but he stands firm, and the crowd flows around him. He closes his eyes and focuses on screaming one thought as loud as he can in his mind, loud enough to drown out all the noise in this city. 

Loud enough that if someone was out there, listening, they couldn’t help but hear him.

A moment goes by. Beat opens his eyes again and keeps walking, stepping onto the curb just as the walk signal blinks over to red.

—

The three of them used to search Shibuya together, at the beginning. But that was a long time ago. Now each of them does their own thing. Beat likes it better this way—alone, he can cover more ground faster on his board. And he can roll with each hit of disappointment as it comes, easier than shielding someone else from it.

Most days he’ll find Shiki by Hachiko. She brings homework or a sketchpad and sits on the railing nearest to the statue, working, but mostly waiting. They don’t always talk—sometimes there isn’t much to say, and he’ll just give a nod as he glides by.

It hurts to see her sitting there. Makes it tough to ignore that hollow feeling in his chest when the same yearning is written clear on her face. Every few minutes she’ll look up and scan the crowds around her with a kind of quiet hope, then lower her gaze again in resignation. The same motion over and over, day after day.

They’ve never brought it up, but Beat knows she can feel it just as much as him, that Neku isn’t erased. That connection from their pact never disappeared, not completely. When they fought the Noise together in the UG it blazed like an inferno, since returning to the RG it’s dwindled down to a spark. But it’s not gone, and neither is Neku. He isn’t even that far away. 

He feels so near that Beat can’t shake the sense that the next time he looks over his shoulder he might see Neku there, looking back at him.

Shiki isn’t waiting outside today, but Beat spots her in the nearby cafe, sitting at the counter against the window, facing the square. Her stuffed animal is placed on the tabletop where it can be easily seen. Shiki smiles brightly at Beat and waves at him through the glass, and he waves back and heads inside.

“I heard it was going to rain soon, so I snagged a seat in here,” Shiki says as he sits down on the stool next to her. She pushes over a plate with an untouched half of a sandwich. “Here, you can finish this if you want.”

Beat’s not going to say no to that. Shiki sketches a bit frantically on her tablet while he eats. At one point she lets out a stressed little sigh and scrubs at the screen to erase half her work. 

“Whatchu got there?” Beat asks. 

“I’m finishing some new concepts for our winter collection. We got funding to double the size of the launch, if you can believe it. I’m hoping we can fit a few more items in.”

“Winter? But it ain’t even summer yet.”

“I know, I’m super behind, actually.” She taps on the screen and pulls up a picture of a plaid coat, smiling at it fondly. “I think Neku would like this one, don’t you? Maybe he’ll be able to wear it in the UG.”

The figure she drew doesn’t even have a face, but it’s Neku. Something about the tilt of the head, the line of its outstretched arm… Beat can’t pinpoint it exactly. He has no idea how Shiki does that, or if she’s even aware.

“Ever since we got the shop in 104, I sometimes think… what if he just walked in one day?” Shiki confesses. She adjusts her glasses as she looks up and gazes out the window hopefully. “I mean… I guess it could happen.”

Beat takes a quick glance over his shoulder. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“Anyway, how’s Rhyme? I’ve been so busy, I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

“Good. Busy, too, burnin’ through all those computer courses she’s taking. She’s always holed up in her room, and I don’t understand half of what she’s talking ‘bout these days.”

“She’s still trying to find a way to hack into the UG, right?” Shiki taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “That would be amazing. Is it even possible?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s her,” says Beat, his pride clouded with worry, because, honestly, he wishes she wouldn’t. He hates the idea of Rhyme getting mixed up with the Reapers again, even from behind a computer.

“What about you, what have you been up to?” Shiki asks.

“Nothin’ new,” he says with a shrug. “Hittin’ the streets, like usual. Been a long time since I seen anyone from the UG, though.”  

“Besides that.” There’s a concerned crinkle between her eyebrows. “How’s school? Or— are things at home any better?”

Beat smiles. “It is what it is, like my sis’d say.” He stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. “I gotta bounce, yo. Later, Shiki.”

“Bye, Beat. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

—

Some event is going on at 104 this afternoon, the entrance is blocked by a crowd of excited teenagers. Beat gives them a wide berth as he takes his usual quick pass by the building, watching the bustling shoppers and the big video screen for signs of anything suspicious that might hint at the Reapers being up to some shit again. He doesn’t spend a lot of time around here, it’s always too busy, and Shiki’s got this one covered.

There’s a lot of people carrying shopping bags from her store today. He’s happy she’s making her dream come true. She was so torn up with guilt over it for so long, even though they all know it’s what Neku would’ve wanted. It sucks that he isn’t around to see it.

Beat tries not to dwell on these kind of thoughts—there’s no point to it, and it’s not his style, better to keep moving—but as he heads up Center Street he passes a group of friends standing outside a photo booth, laughing loudly over the pictures they’d just taken, enjoying their day together, and he’s freshly gut-punched with how fucking unfair it is. 

They won that game. They’d made it out. They were *good*. For those few short weeks, it had really felt like things were going to work out.

Coming back to life had been like a second chance. He and Rhyme were closer than ever, and he had some new friends, forged in fire. His parents were actually a bit better when he got home from the “hospital”, distraught after nearly losing both their kids, and they were cutting him some breaks for once. He even tried pretty hard with school again, and did alright on a few tests.

Not that it was all great. He’s still haunted by that lost look on Rhyme’s face as she sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor their first day back home, her old diary open on her lap, flipping through half-blank pages. “There’s nothing here,” she’d said quietly, with a heartbreaking kind of acceptance.

Beat stood in the doorway, his shaking hands clenched uselessly into fists. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. His vision blurred with tears, and he fought them back, knowing he didn’t have the right. He shouldn’t be crying, he wasn’t the one to lose something precious.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Rhyme stood and gave him a comforting hug that he knew he didn’t deserve. He was probably holding her too tightly, still trying to convince himself that it was real, that she was really there, but she didn’t complain. “All that matters is that we’re together.” After he finally managed to let her go, she went and picked up the diary from the floor, shutting it with a clap. “It’s a closed door. I just have to find my window.”

Rhyme smiled then, small but determined, and Beat knew she would be all right. She always finds a way to face forward. And, for the first time, he felt like maybe he was, too.

It was nice, for a while. But it sure as hell didn’t last. 

Now he moves through this city on an endless loop. His grades are trash, his parents barely speak to him except to complain about what a disappointment he is, and he spends too many nights awake trying to outrun nightmares on his skateboard, which just makes the rest of it worse.

But none of that really matters. Not school, definitely not what his parents think of him. The only worthwhile things he’d ever done had been with Neku. They saved Rhyme together, and this whole city. Beat owes him everything. He’ll be damned if he lets his best bud just slip through the cracks of reality. He’s gonna keep looking, no matter how long it takes.

[ve1vetyoongi]

Operation: Love Letters | 05

💌 CHAPTER INDEX 💌

♡ ⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader.

♡ ⇢ chapter word count: 4k

♡ ⇢ genre: mystery, college!au, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

♡ ⇢ warnings/rating: none, PG.

♡ ⇢ summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

♡ ⇢ schedule: updated every day at 5pm GMT in the run up to Valentine’s Day 2020!

"Do we really need to wear these?" You hold up the black hoodie and matching balaclava Jimin pulled out of an ominously heavy gym bag. "And do we really need night goggles and a screwdriver?"

"You can never be too careful. This guy is a total nerd. He definitely has cameras set up in his tech room and who knows what booby traps are waiting for us."

You throw the balaclava into your locker with a scoff but shrug and drop the screwdriver into your backpack anyway. Just in case. "This isn't Spy Kids, Jimin. He's just a dude with a laptop, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Okay, well don't blame me when one of his computers detonates."

It's final period and the halls are eerily empty for a college campus as you and Jimin creep down towards the tech room, alert and aware of each far-too-loud squeak Jimin's polished chelsea boots make against the floor and every door that opens and shuts nearby.

Before long you arrive outside the tech room where after a little research, you found out Jungkook holds his club meetings. You know it's the right one because there's a sign on the front that says TECH CLUB - THURSDAY'S AT NOON - PRESIDENT: JEON JUNGKOOK.

If your calculations were correct, Jungkook had class for another twenty minutes, offering you and Jimin the perfect opportunity to gather clues — except you're suddenly overcome with nerves that make you shiver as you stop dead outside the door, seconds ticking by as you give yourself a mental pep talk.

"Are you having second thoughts about breaking in?" Jimin asks, squeezing your shoulder gently.

"No." You swallow. "It's just, what if this is another dead end? What if we're wasting our time again and my admirer isn't even Jungkook?"

"I mean, maybe Jungkook was under our noses this whole time. You were a 100% match, remember?" Jimin shrugs his shoulders with a smile. "You'll never know unless we find out once and for all."

You return his smile with a firm nod of your head. "You're right. It's now or never."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Jimin holds out his pinky finger and you take it in your own. "Whatever happens, I'll be by your side the whole time, okay? In the name of Operation Love Letters?"

"In the name of Operation Love letters." You confirm, your hand finally finding the door handle while you take a deep breath as you prepare for your introduction into a life of crime.

Here we go...

But much to your surprise, no matter how hard you twist it, the door remains stiff and closed. Even when you try and barge it with your shoulder, it doesn't budge a single inch, and you turn to Jimin with a roll of your eyes.

"It's locked!" You hiss, slapping a hand to your forehead. "Why didn't we think of this?"

"This is a problem." Jimin bends to his knees and peers at the key hole. "Looks like the key is custom made. Which means there's probably only one of them."

"So? What does that mean?"

"It means we have to find a way in straight from the source."

"You mean steal Jungkook's key?"

"I mean, I'd call it borrowing, but yeah, I guess." Jimin shrugs with a smirk. "You in?"

"Duh." You roll your eyes. "You got a plan?"

"Your lack of faith in me is hurtful." He grasps his chest like he's in pain. "Of course I have a plan! Now hurry, we don't have time to waste! It's Valentine's Day tomorrow and we need to get you your man!"

The campus cafeteria is bustling with life when Jimin hands you a lunch tray and drags you behind him to join the queue.

"Dude, we don't have time for a snack break!" You whine, buzzing with adrenaline at the thought of uncovering the sender of your note. "You said we were gonna find my secret admirer?"

"Just trust me!" Jimin counters, holding a finger to his lips as he stands on his tippy toes to peer towards the far corner of the cafeteria. "Jungkook and the tech team meet here every day at 2:30." He pulls back his sleeve, tapping the face of his watch with a smug smile. "And if my calculations are correct, Jungkook should be arriving right about..."

"Now." You finish, as you see the tech club crowd into the cafeteria, occupying a table in the far corner and launching in to an in depth conversation about some new video game they were all playing.

With them is a boy with dark bangs and a pair of glasses, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly as he flashes his bunny-like smile at the guy beside him. He pulls a portable gaming console out of the front pocket of his denim dungarees and even from where you stand a few meters away you can pick up the excitement in his voice as he tells the girl beside him all about it.

A total nerd, you note, but a totally cute nerd at that.

"And here we have a wild Jeon Jungkook in his natural habitat." Jimin announces as he pulls you to hide behind a pillar out of sight as Jungkook's friends say their goodbyes and leave for their afternoon classes, leaving him to finish his lunch alone.

"You really think this guy could've sent me the love letter?" You ask skeptically.

"There's only one way to find out." Jimin whispers back. "Leave it to me."

"What? Hey...wait up!"

You're almost too weak in the knees to care when a lunch lady slaps a pile of questionably appetising mashed potatoes onto your tray, hurrying after Jimin as he pushes through the crowd and stalks right up to the empty seat next to where Jeon Jungkook sits and chows down on a sandwich with one hand while his other works on the gaming console his eyes remain glued to.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" You whisper harshly. "Shouldn't we at least try to be subtle? We can't just ask him outright for the key!"

"Relax, me and Jungkook go way back, we took a filler class together last semester. This will be a piece of cake."

And with that, Jimin slaps down his lunch tray in the seat opposite Jungkook and leans forward on his elbows to greet him with a far-to-wide smile beneath his baker boy hat.

"Hey, Jungkook! What's up? Long time no see huh?"

Jungkook stops mid bite, blinking at Jimin in confusion before his eyes slowly drift up to where you hover behind him awkwardly. He pulls his headphones around his neck and chokes on the bite of sandwich he was in the middle of swallowing.

Your eyes widen, lurching forward to hand him your bottle of water which he glugs in a matter of seconds, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, though he's unable to curb the way his jaw drops when he looks up again and sees Jimin's never faltering Cheshire grin and you beside him, still sat there looking at him with concern.

"Y-Y/N?" He manages to splutter. "What are you doing here?"

Jimin jerks you down into the seat beside him, breaking Jungkook's rapt and wide eyed stare by snapping his fingers to get his attention. "We're here to ask you about the Love Calculator. Do you know anything about it?"

"Y-yeah. I created it." Jungkook coughs, a look of pure panic striking his features. "Why? W-who said something?"

"Nobody said anything!" You interject before Jimin can forcefully probe the terrified kid any further with his bad cop act, flashing him a glance that says leave it to me as you take the reigns. "I just thought it was really cool and I uh...had an idea for a similar project that I think you might be interested in. Right Jimin?"

Jimin furrows his eyebrows, but nods slowly anyway. "Right..."

"But the thing is, I don't know how to code so I'm kinda stumped..."

That sparks something in the quiet boy opposite you, and he suddenly sits up straight, pushing his round glasses up his nose eagerly. "I-I can code!"

"You can?" You smile sweetly, even fluttering your eyelashes for extra measure. "Do you think you could maybe...help us — me — out?"

"Sure!" Jungkook's eyes are wide and sparkling now as he fiddles awkwardly with the braces over top of his plaid shirt. "J-just drop by the tech r-room after class and I'll show you anything you need to know.

"Perfect. That way we can spend some time together, too." You purr with an award winning smile. Was that too much? You wince at the sugary sweetness in your tone when Jungkook suddenly jumps to his feet and blinks at you in disbelief.

"I uh...gotta go!" His lunch tray rattles as he throws his backpack over his shoulders. "See y-you around."

"Wait!" Jungkook freezes when you chase after him and throw your arms around his neck in a tight embrace, hand quietly sneaking around to slip into his jacket pocket as you do and curling around something cold and sharp. "Thanks for all your help Jungkook. It really means a lot."

Jungkook scrunches his nose and shuffles backwards when you let go, bumping into a freshman as he does. "N-no problem. See ya!" And with that, you and Jimin watch as he speed walks down the hall.

"What the heck? You let him get away!" Jimin whines, glancing over his shoulder as Jungkook disappears among the crowd of college students and you pull him roughly by the elbow into an empty nearby supply closet.

Once you're sure the coast is clear, you open your palm, revealing a shiny silver key dangling from your middle finger with a smug smile. "Bingo."

"I'm impressed." A smirk appears on Jimin's face, and he offers you a triumphant fist bump. "The student has become the master."

"Ta da!" The key turns in the lock and, after checking the halls are empty, you push open the door to the tech room with a smug grin. "We're in."

"You're in." Jimin corrects, shoving his foot in between the door frame so you can't lock it behind you. "I volunteer to keep watch. You know, just in case classes end early or something and we need to get away quick!"

You roll your eyes but enter without much protest. "Fine. But you better tell me if you see anything suspicious."

"Yes, Sarge." Jimin salutes, before settling with his legs crossed against the door frame.

The tech room is pitch black, but you don't want to arouse suspicion by turning on the lights, so you flick on your phone torch instead to get your bearings.

A couple beanbags sit in the corner surrounding a video game console, the far wall lined by a row of computers with headsets rested neatly on top.

There's a cabinet filled with DVD's and age-old floppy disks, and you thumb through them hurriedly but are met with nothing but dust and disappointment, so you move on to the chest-height drawers instead. Again, you find nothing of interest; just USB sticks and used printer cartridges.

"Jimin," You whisper. "What am I even supposed to be looking for? This whole place is clean!"

"Try logging into his computer," Jimin calls, poking his head into the hall to check the coast is clear before reappearing and tapping his watch to hurry you. "We don't have much time left, class is almost over."

Without further ado, you sink into Jungkook's plush office chair, wheeling yourself under his desktop and flicking the green on switch on his monitor. It takes a couple seconds for the screen to boot up before you're met with a background of Jungkook's white fluffy dog and a password pop up.

Darn it. Of course it's password protected, he wouldn't be that dumb...but wait! Maybe there is a way you can find it.

Your hand feels around beneath his desk and before long your fingers curl around a piece of paper that has been taped to the underside.

"Oldest trick in the book." You chuckle with a smug smile. Wasn't he ever taught not to keep his password in plain sight? So much for studying cyber security.

Without further ado you pull out his keyboard and let your fingers flit across the keys with a nauseous excitement in your stomach. You take a deep breath when you hit enter...except no matter how many times you do, nothing happens. The computer screen just remains unchanging with the same taunting ENTER PASSWORD pop up staring at you from behind the eyes of a tiny puppy.

"What the— Jimin!" You hiss. "I think his computer is broken, I can't log in."

Jimin rolls his eyes and removes his foot from where it holds the door open to come and take a look for himself. "You're probably just doing it wrong."

A couple minutes later and no matter how many times Jimin checks it's plugged into the outlet or how hard you press on the keys, you just can't get it to work. It's almost like a sick joke. You've got this close to finding out the truth and now technology decides to turn against you!

"Goddamnit!" Frustration floods your veins as you lift the keyboard up and throw it back down on the desk again with a huff. "Why won't this stupid thing work!"

Jimin's eyes widen. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" You bark with a roll of your eyes, still defeated by your battle with the keyboard. "I didn't hear anything."

"No, do that again...with the keyboard."

Your brows furrow. "This?" You lift the keyboard up again and this time when it collides with the desk top you hear it. A clunk from inside the keyboard.

"There it is again!" Jimin brushes you aside to wrap his own hands around the appliance, lifting it up to his face and shaking it like a rattle. Sure enough, the "I think this is just a dummy keyboard. There's something hidden inside!"

"Well hurry up and open it then!" You exclaim, and Jimin drops to his knees to rummage through his black gym bag.

"Told you the screwdriver would come in handy." He says as he hands it to you and you send him a scowl before starting on the tiny screws keeping the back of the keyboard closed.

After a couple twists, the keyboard suddenly pops open, and Jimin is practically hopping from foot to foot as you tip it upside down and shake it back and forth until it's contents plonks out onto the table top.

"What is it?" Jimin gasps, when you hold up a red file labelled TOP SECRET.

"This is what he's hiding?" You mumble as you leaf through the sheets of paper held inside by a paperclip. "What's so special about a bunch of paper?"

Jimin stops you when you start flicking through too fast. "Wait, go back. I recognise that one."

"Hold up—" Your eyes flit across two words printed in pink ink when Jimin points to a specific page. "This is someone's Love Calculator results."

"Holy shit," Jimin gasps, finger prodding at the name at the top of the page. "This is a copy of your Love Calculator results."

"But why is he keeping it hidden away if—"

You don't have time to finish your question before the door is swinging open on it's hinges, Jimin jumping behind you in fear as a figure emerges in the darkness holding a baseball bat.

"I thought you were supposed to be keeping watch!" You hiss.

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. "I got excited!"

"W-who's there?" A nervous voice stammers from the shadow that spins around on his heels and swings the bat in his hand willy nilly.  "Don't even think about stealing any of my equipment. I have alarms all over this place that will call the cops if you move a single muscle!"

"Damn it! What did I tell you about booby traps?" Jimin nudges you in the ribs but you're not listening, already jumping to your feet with your hands in the air in surrender.

"Don't call the cops! It's just us."

The figure freezes, before you see him feel around the wall for the light switch, flicking it on to reveal none other than Jeon Jungkook blinking at you in confusion.

"Y/N? Jimin? What are you—"

"Cut the crap,  Jungkook." Jimin holds up the red file and Jungkook looks like he's about to faint. "You have some explaining to do."

"We know that you've been lying to us. You have something to do with the love letters and this evidence proves it." You bark at Jungkook, who sits opposite you and Jimin in the tech room with a lamp pointed at his terrified features as you interrogate him.

"H-how did you find out?"

"That you're my secret admirer?"

"What? N-no I'm not—"

"Then what were we supposed to find out?"

Jungkook swallows hard. "I...I changed your results!"

He slaps a hand over his mouth and stares at his shoes guiltily while you and you and Jimin share a look.

"The Love Calculator results?" Jimin prods, sliding the sheet across the table. "What did you do?"

Jungkook pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, grabbing his laptop from his backpack and scooting over to your side of the desk so you can all crowd around the screen which loads up with a black page filled with lines of code.

"Look here," He points to the screen and types in a few numbers. "I made the programme so that I can...input my own data into the system if I want to."

"Okay? And what does that mean?"

"Well it means that everyone who fills out the survey gets a list of people who they really match with based on their answers." He insists. "But, in some cases I can...fix things."

"Fix things how?" You say as he types your name into the search bar and waits for your results to load up.

"I-I uh..." He stutters, before the truth comes spilling out. "I changed your top match so that we were 100% compatible!"

"What?" You exclaim. "Why would you do that?"

"It's j-just, I've had a huge crush on you since freshman year and I thought maybe if you got me in your results then..."

"She'd finally notice you." Jimin finishes, and Jungkook nods pitifully with his hands in his lap.

"But wait," A thought suddenly strikes you. "If you aren't my top match, then who is?"

Jungkook presses a few buttons before he turns the laptop screen towards you, jolting when you and Jimin let out a unanimous gasp at the name displayed on the screen surrounded by a plethora of hearts.

Min Yoongi. 100% compatible.

Suddenly, the door flies open and you freeze, hardly daring to turn around when you hear the familiar voice that follows it. "Hey guys, what are you doing in here...woah, why is my name on the screen?"

[rosequartzakapinkdiamond]

Everything’s Fine

you know what got me the most about ‘Everything’s Fine’? this scene:

‘I’m a fraud.’

on god, i felt that

when you’re mentally ill, abused, neuro-divergent, or have had anything different in the way you think, you CONSTANTLY feel like you’re masking, like you have to wear this facade to stay included, or loved, or safe, until you’re so far down that hole you don't know how to get out, so you deny its even happening, and you work yourself up inside with all this self-hatred, after all you’re lying to people, and you begin to believe deep down that you’re not good anymore. that you polluted yourself. and so everything in you wants to pretend its not real, and the cyclical facade continues.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m fine, awesome in fact! Ah- c’mon, you’ve seen me when I wasn’t doing well. Nothing’s wrong, and besides, I don't want you to worry.’ 

Steven is deflecting, trying to draw attention away from his problems so the others won’t fret about him, because worry leads to scrutiny, which leads to concern, and then he could burst, everything he’s tried to prove, tried to show as true, is all going to shatter. he’s so, so used to being the one who catches the other in a trust fall, he doesn’t know how to lean back himself, so when faking doesn’t work, he immediately tries to remove himself from the situation. 

‘It’s not that easy! You know what, I don’t have to deal with this!’

if he’s not in the room, the atmosphere can’t follow, he can find somewhere safe and far, and calm down, but this doesn't work. its another attempt at deflecting, and neither Pearl, Amethyst or Connie allow it, they know he needs to talk it out before they can help

and so now, the lies begin to come out, and oh god it hurt to watch. ive been exactly where Steven is and hoo boy sucks, because you instantly try to dumb it down as a protection measure, despite how it feels to lie further. throughout the show we’ve seen how much Steven values the Gems’ opinions of him, Connie and Greg too, as early on as ‘Laser Light Cannon’ he’s desperate to show he isn’t a liability. he’s taught himself to not be a problem, to not cause problems, so he can stay included and helpful, and help them get better instead. its just so much easier to focus on other people over yourself. its distracting, it’s comfortable.

‘Hahaa... It wasn’t that important you guys! You’re making a big deal out of nothing! Have I done some thing wrong? Sure! I trashed the house today, I broke an anvil, but what teenager hasn’t? Dad and I had a little disagreement, but that’s practically a rite of passage! I mean, it would be weird if we didn’t, right?’

he’s still looking for their approval, their assurance that it’s not a problem, repercussions can go away, and everything can just go back to normal, but you can see in their faces, they’re angry, and this only spurs on his deflecting, because now he’s faced with rejection, again. so he tries to assure himself that it’s just the everyday teen problems, nothing to make an issue out of, because that’s too raw to think about, I mean, Connie's had disagreements with her parents right, that’s the same?? right?

‘And maybe I’ve had a not-so-nice thought or two, about, like, slamming White Diamond’s head through a pillar, but, but, it’s not like I actually went through with it! Ha, I-- I only actually shattered Jasper!’

and what’s horrible is it’s almost a satisfying feeling at first, technically he succeeded!! he got away with it, and doesn’t that make him smart, or capable of coping, or maybe he’s getting better!!! he could’ve done those horrible things, but its okay! he fixed them, or they weren’t as bad as they sound, or, or, or--

ive done plenty of damaging impulse things thanks to my mental illness and neuro-divergency, and ive had exactly the same script. you try so hard to make it seem like the problem isn't as large because really, you know what you did was bad, or stupid, or dark. but you still did it, you couldn’t just stop yourself. you still made the mistake and now you want to move past it as quick and as painlessly as possible, but doing so puts other things in jeopardy and means telling other people, and that’s scary. you can’t avoid letting people know about your problems, but what Steven’s struggling with is that he’s on a completely different page to the Gems, Connie and Greg. he’s had all this time dwelling on these thoughts-- he’s several chapters in, but they’ve only just picked up the book, so no wonder they’re shocked and horrified to read the blurb. these thoughts of inflicting harm, whether it be or others or otherwise, are dark, so who wouldn’t be shocked?

so Steven immediately deflects again. he pushes himself to sound positive, so desperate for the facade of normality, that it borders on unstable, as he overcompensates for this fear of criticism 

‘Oh! Don’t worry, I fixed that too! I can fix anything! I can just keep messing up and fixing things forever and you’ll never have to think or know about any of it!’

it’s because they had no idea there was anything wrong that cemented this idea in Steven that he had to keep hiding, because what they didn't know couldn’t hurt them, right, and he’s Steven! he fixes things! if you’re always deemed as perfect, any flaw can’t be shown, right? any fall and you’re out, you’re not a crystal gem anymore and you can’t go on missions or hang out with Connie or protect anymore, protect the town, protect the earth, so you hide, and you can go on, self-sabotaging and hiding and stressing, without anyone knowing a thing. 

but you know. you know well, too well, and eventually everything crumbles whether Steven wanted to ever acknowledge it or not. it just became too much for one person to hold.

‘How messed up is that? That I’ve gotten away with this for so long? You have no idea how bad I am!’

what strikes me about this too is ‘gotten away with this’ and ‘you have no idea how bad I am’. cannot tell you how many times ive said these phrases word for word in therapy and i almost screamed at my computer when I heard him say it, because that’s EXACTLY how it feels. you’re acting. the whole time you’re acting in self-preservation because of this all consuming anxiety of failure, and its always in your head and hey, you know its BAD-bad, even if they don’t notice, or ask, because you’re absolutely not going to tell. he already tried, remember, and they brushed him off, so nope, no, their fault.

so now Steven’s faced with actually looking at what exactly he’s done and how no one noticed. how not one of them thought to have this conversation with him before, did they not care? did they not see him? did not one of them wonder why Jasper just appeared suddenly out of their bathroom, at the least? could they not bother to try to reach him?

but it’s not a matter of them not loving him, or seeing him. it’s that they didn’t listen in the right way to understand him. Connie’s speech in the following episode sets it out perfectly 

‘Yes, you hurt him, but this isn’t the time to make this all about you! That is not helping! Maybe Steven would care about how sad you are, because he always puts everyone else’s feelings first, but he can’t do that for you right now, because he needs us this time!’

she acknowledges that they needed to hear Steven, especially when he wasn’t laying out exactly what was wrong, because he didn’t know what was up either (the dude has only been to the doctor once, he doesn’t know what c-ptsd is, let alone anxiety or depression), and because they should, as adults, realise that while their actions and feelings do matter, it cannot be at Steven’s detriment. his venting to Garnet, and to Greg, in ‘Together Forever’ and ‘Mr Universe’ wasn't an opportunity for them to give him advice or lay their own experiences on top, it was a chance for them to really listen to, and really hear, what Steven was telling them he was feeling and then see that as his truth. no ‘you had it better’, no ‘it was inevitable’, all he needed was ‘I hear you, I love you, let’s fix this together’. 

‘We all had Steven when we needed him, but the only person who’s never had Steven, is Steven! So, how can we be there for him now?’

which makes what Steven says next all the more painful, as he’s been holding this role on his shoulders like atlas holds the sky and its breaking him.

‘You think I’m so great, I’m so mature, and I always know what to do, but that's not true! I haven’t learned a thing from my problems. They’ve all just made me worse!’

thus far, Steven’s been taught that every experience is a chance to learn, like in ‘The Test’ (which was another ep that made me go FERAL when i saw it). he’s searching for meaning in all the horrible things that happened to him but sometimes, there is no moral. sometimes things are just that. they’re bad and they hurt you.

‘You think of me as some angel, but I’m not that kid anymore! I’m a fraud. I’m a fraud. I’m a monster!’

when you believe so deeply in yourself that you’re not a good person, it really hurts, especially when the people around you keep reminding you of who you used to be, see the whole of ‘Snow Day’. you feel like a fake, because who exactly are you? who are you without that mask? who is Steven Universe if not the boy who helps? yes, he’s not that kid anymore, but he doesn't want to be this ball of pain either, so what’s left after but to think he’s just ruined? he’s not an angel, he’s not helping anymore, he’s just angry, hurt and lost.

what’s left but a monster?  

[loquaciousquark]

30, 34, 38 for the writer's asks?

30. Do you write down all your ideas?

Oooh, tough question! In general, I don’t write down something until I’m ready to write it out and commit to it. It’s why I don’t have a WIP folder or more than one active WIP at a time. I have to keep my brain focused on one task from start to finish - otherwise nothing gets done. Even now at work, when I’m working on a task list, I often have to stop myself and say out loud, “Stop multitasking. Focus on one thing. Get that done first.” because otherwise I just hop from thing to thing without ever finishing any of it.

So, the fact that I’ve written down the bodyguard AU outline means that it ought to happen some day, as soon as I finish filling in the holes in the world. The ice skating fic is the other file I do still have saved on my computer’s desktop as a tentatively still-open world, since I have part of a follow-up written from Carver’s perspective. It’s about 1500 words in, but I realized it’s not doing anything I want it to and doesn’t really have a point, so I haven’t gone back to it in a month or two. I might do something else about Danarius’s penitentiary woes, though, if inspiration strikes.

34. Have you felt emotional while writing a scene before? What scene was it?

I cried like a baby writing the end of Lacrimosa. I have a very vivid memory of sitting on my apartment bed in my tiny bedroom, the lights off, writing in the dark very late at night in total silence, and then I got to the part where Aveline is trying to comfort Hawke and I just burst into tears the same moment Hawke did, and then I cried through the rest of the writing.

That fic was astounding in a lot of ways, but it still remains one of the easiest writes of my life. Not emotionally, of course, but physically - I just sat down and wrote it from start to finish, no editing, and then I immediately posted it the same night I’d seen the prompt on the kink meme. (Yes, I did save the links to all my original anon fills on the k!meme, why do you ask?) Jade helped me pick out two pieces of music that fit it perfectly, which I added in later, but yeah. My most vivid memory of writing that fic is sitting there crying into the dark, trying to see what I was writing through my tears.

I also cried writing the memory of Malcolm’s death in Ascendi. I never got any comments that indicated readers did too, but that’s all right. Just lots of crying for me!

I will say the speech Hawke gives to the raiders yelling at them for their stupidity in attacking a pregnant, moody Champion apostate makes me laugh out loud every single time I read it.

38. What story of yours are you surprised that people liked as much as they did?

Oh, definitely Were We Not Called. I wrote that coming off of the difficulty of writing Worth Life, which has the protagonists separated for most of the fic & where Fenris thinks Hawke is dead for a good chunk of the story. I spent a very long time working on and refining Worth Life and it got a really decent response, which I thought was super generous of the fandom, but it had a lot a lot of emotional damage & grief & mourning that I think was kinda heavy for the world at the time, and once Hawke & Fenris reunited the interest faded away a little bit--which was totally fine & expected, honestly!

But while I was finishing up the edits for Worth Life, I saw a prompt about AU soulmates (I think in a list from @thegeminisage??). It sank its teeth into me hard, and I whipped out Were We Not Called in like two weekends or something after having spent six months on Worth Life. Jade edited it and got it back to me, I started putting it up, and the response blew me away.

@eponymous-rose and I have talked a lot before about why some things blow up in fandom and some don’t. The thing that seems to affect it the least is the amount of time and effort you spend working on a piece; instead, by far, sometimes you just get really, really lucky. Sometimes all the stars align just right, and you happened to write a trope that everyone wants to read at just that moment, and you happened to post it at just the right time of day for most people to see it, and maybe just the right person happens to reblog it at the exact moment for someone else to have the free time to click in and read it for themselves. It was just a perfect storm of some unbelievable chance, and the comments on that were so very kind (and numerous) for something I’d spent a lot less time working on, haha. Even now, it’s one of my most popular fics, and I haven’t got a clue why!

Funnily enough, even though it doesn’t have many kudos or comments, by far my most-hit fic is Crucible. This fandom, huh. 👀

Thank you for the questions! :D

[ryttu3k]

could you post the ending where you side with the SI and Julian gets pissed off by your decision? I also noticed that Julian never really introduces himself to anyone or says a simple goodbye to the courier, like, ever. I mean even after ten years or so he just resumes the conversation as if nothing happened. Not even the courier calls him out on this. I wonder why that is lol

Heh, regarding Julian’s conversational patterns, there’s a really interesting post here on friendship degradation mechanisms with ADHD! And Julian absolutely has ADHD.

And for the SI ending, ooh, I haven't got that one written down. I do want it handy for reference, so time for a speedrun with my SI-affiliated Toreador! Here's all the dialogue from the SI attack onwards.

Before you can speak, Lettow jumps up.

"What?" Julian says.

Your phone chimes. You run, throwing yourself out the door just as the missile hits.

Fragments of stone and metal fly over your head. You get clear, reaching your Escalade, and look back at the blown-apart warehouse.

Flames are everywhere. Your Beast screams in wild terror and only the greatest exercise of Willpower keeps you under control, but your body shakes uncontrollably. You have only one clear thought—run! Still, you grit your teeth and force yourself to look around.

Only the vampires survived the blast, and they look badly hurt. Prince Lettow took a direct hit; his clothes hang in tatters, like a shroud, and his skin is blackened. Julian and his helmeted assistant, Z, are burned and stunned. Julian's servants are gone.

Hunters are inbound. You see Bearcats and Humvees, police cruisers and Buick Avenirs. The floodlights turn on, illuminating the burning warehouse and hiding almost a hundred hunters in the glare as they advance.

A bullet zips past your head as a hunter in militia gear opens fire. An FBI agent waves for him to stop—it looks like there are orders for you not to be harmed—but that's hardly a perfect defense. You duck behind the Sprinter van. It might be time to get out of here.

There's just one problem: Julian is standing between you and your Escalade, a karambit in both hands. He spins the little blades.

"You did this," he says. "You betrayed us all."

[The sight of so much fire means that you are now in a fear frenzy and cannot think clearly unless you focus your Willpower or escape.]

> "I tried to warn you! I told you we were monsters, and I told you I would stop you."

Another explosion obliterates the computer shop. Bricks and pieces of rebar rain down.

Julian screams and rushes you, quick as the wind. Then he breaks away before he gets into karambit range. Even as he moves, his silhouette breaks up, becoming a pixelated gray blur as he fades from sight and circles you, looking for a chance to strike.

> I need to talk him down. "You can still escape, Julian. Don't let them kill you here." [CHA/MAN+Persuasion]

"How could you do this?" Julian cries.

"To save people!" you say. "And I'm trying to save you. Run, before it's too late!"

He looks at the raging inferno all around him, the ruins of his project, then back at you. Then he fades away.

That's the last time you see him.

More gunfire arcs around you and hammers the Sprinter van. You duck, then get into your Escalade and get away from the burning warehouse.

So I thought that was it, but hey! Apparently Lettow wanted his say, too!

You slide into heavy traffic, scanning the late-night vehicles for signs of pursuit. No hunters, no cops. Good. You have a moment to think as you scan the streets.

Front, back, left, right. Nothing. If you breathed, you'd be breathing a little easier. You're just turning your thoughts to the next step of this desperate plan when a shadow passes over you.

You look up. Riga.

Then you crane your head out of your window.

Something like Riga, but with a wingspan like a light aircraft.

Lettow is following you, and it looks like he cares more about revenge for your "betrayal" than about preserving the Masquerade.

And here come the hunters: Buick SUVs close in on your location. Others are on a nearby bridge. They're tracking Lettow, trying to get close enough to open fire with rifles or even heavier munitions. You're not sure Donati cares about collateral damage anymore. The SI will blow holes in Tucson to take down its Prince.

This is it, you realize. The Eagle Prince plans to destroy you here and now. But with so many hunters around him, he'll only have one shot at you. If you can buy yourself a few seconds and slip out of his sight, he won't be able to try again.

But how?

> My supernaturally keen eyes will let me spot alleys, vacant lots, and other places where I can hide my SUV from Lettow. [Auspex]

You drive slowly, looking for little-used routes that Lettow won't be able to track from above.

Tucson is a low, flat city, but finally you spot a messy construction site next to a parking garage.

You turn hard, cutting off oncoming traffic and racing into the construction site as Lettow dives for you.

But just as you planned, he has to back off. Tarps cover most of the site, and he'd get tangled if he dove. You keep moving, weaving through narrow alleys, then blowing through a Chevron station—the covering over the pumps prevents Lettow from reaching you easily.

Then you reverse right into an unfinished apartment complex that you saw last week, going straight through the building itself.

And he's lost you.

You roll out with your lights off and look up. Lettow is on a nearby building, scanning the darkness with his golden eyes.

That's when the SI lights him up. Heedless that they're operating in the middle of Tucson, dozens of agents and soldiers open fire with rifles and truck-mounted weapons.

Lettow lurches in midair. But he's still an elder vampire. The huge eagle dives, scythes through a truck full of agents, killing five in a single pass, and then rises into the air, higher, higher, until he and Riga disappear into the clouds.

The last you see of Prince Lettow, he's flying east, away from Tucson, out of his fallen domain.

You disappear into traffic, getting away from the SI as quickly as you can.

An inescapable element of existing as a vampire is ignorance. The Masquerade is a shadow that swallows clarity and understanding. People suspect and imply, but they rarely know for certain.

Your final nights in Tucson are frightening but uninteresting. You check the news, divest from your real estate holdings, and listen to word on the street.

Over the next few nights, during which time the news reports a few strange acts of violence, a terrorist attack, and a zoo escape, you learn that Prince Lettow was almost certainly destroyed. Dove perished in a midday raid on her haven, and nothing remains of the Viper but a gutted heap.

The city's Kindred are scattered and leaderless, easy pickings for hunters that are now free to operate during the day, dragging vampires out of their havens and destroying them.

Despite the chaos in the shadow-world you inhabit, Tucson looks the same. The city's downtown is not ablaze, the national guard hasn't been mobilized. It's just another shadow-war for vampires to fight.

And it's time to leave.

Your plans to escape Tucson run into surprisingly little red tape as you sell your bungalow and liquidate your other assets.

You got what you could out of your deal with the SI, but now it's time to go.

Go where? Tucson never felt like home, but it was, at least, a base of operations. You can't just stick to the road forever; the highways are too dangerous right now, with the SI active and your bridges with the Camarilla burned. You see a few possible futures.

From what you hear, Seattle is a key city for the Camarilla's blood trade. You could head up north and, if you have enough venture capital, try to strike it rich, really establish yourself.

But maybe money isn't everything. Could you work with hunters to stop more Cainite depredations? From what you hear, Dallas/Fort Worth is now completely out of control, with open fighting in the streets among different vampire factions. If the SI trusts you enough, you could return there and try to protect humanity from the predators in their midst.

But you still feel the alien vitae inside of you: the 2100 Formula. You've heard that a scholar of the Blood dwells in Denver, someone who could answer a lot of your questions. With the briefcase full of Julian's Program research, you should be able to make inroads there. The only difficulty will be finding this scholar, and avoiding the hunters who suspect what kind of power you carry in your Blood. If you head for Denver, you'll have to hope that you've left the Masquerade intact enough here that you can reach Colorado without an army of hunters following you.

Finally…maybe you could just try to live a life. You're dead, of course, but you could try existing as a person, if only for a few years. You've heard that San Francisco is a good place for that sort of thing ever since the old Prince left for LA. Maybe you could cultivate your Humanity and try to live, instead of simply exist.

> I drive east to Dallas/Fort Worth. I'll use my Inquisition contacts to fight the vampires there. [Second Inquisition Hostility]

One month later...

Dallas is burning.

Not literally, not really. From your vantage atop this parking garage, you can't see any fires. But you know that the Inquisition has torn through the city, scattered its warring factions, dragged predators screaming into sunlight every day for the past two weeks. You know all this because you've commanded them from the shadows.

You finish your work tonight.

"We're the masters of this city," one of D'Espine's beautiful ghouls says through bloody teeth. "Even if you kill me, we'll always be here. Feeding and taking and ruling from the shadows. We are immortal! We—"

The other hunters have heard enough. They toss him off the roof and head to their van.

You get back in your SUV because your final target is on the move. D'Espine—the last Cainite of any real power in Dallas—has left the Cinderblock.

This is how you've succeeded in Dallas: not just through your network of hunters, but because you know how to move through a city. As the Cainites have crawled into their holes, believing themselves safe, you've never stopped moving, never stopped striking. And now you're almost done.

You roll out of the parking garage and point your Escalade at the Cinderblock. By tomorrow night you'll be done here, and you'll hit the road.

RIP Lettow and Dove. Julian did get out, though!

[ldaoec]

I loved you

I fought for us like white knuckles on a roller coaster ride Unbuckled and unrestrained-- The ride, I mean No safety gear keeping us safe And I just let us happen Kind of like you stand back And watch storm clouds gather Watch lightening strike the same place Once Twice Going on thirty times But that doesn’t make it any less fascinating Train wreck, perfect storm, natural disaster All happening inside your head

Inside your heart Inside your soul A supersonic earthquake going through your body Burning you up like fuel So that you can’t win. It was a score It did become a game of sorts A game of survival Of faith Trying to get to the finish line first I loved you like white knuckles on a rollercoaster ride And scraped knees on a bicycle. I loved you like a first car wreck First hello First love I loved you like the 11th hour Like the final drought finally breaking And bringing rain I loved you like the giving tree One leave Two leave All the leaves And then winter I loved you like sleeping pill phone calls, When your voice was my favorite song I loved you like sad stories make better men And I didn’t know you were that smart I loved you like little things I started noticing Small little not-rights Like flickering stop lights in traffic I loved you like calm after the tsunami, gentle waves And can you please forgive that overreaction? I loved you like— Stop Slow And nothing I love you like the power going off Like A.I turning on, and How may I help you, today? I loved you like back pedaling on a broken bike And slippery rocks to get to the truth And Blinking lights Frustration Message flashing in neon lights and  Street after street after street I loved you like better luck next time Like I’m not feeling myself and Should have’s Maybe have’s Maybe if I loved differently here I loved you like the first seconds of sunrise The sun starts peeking over the horizon and Hope? Is that hope, already? At this time? And something quiet stirring in my chest A doe waking up from hibernation A deep breath of clean air A second genesis, and-- Stop short Free fall I loved you like nothing I loved you like still nothing I loved you like dead in a ditch, wouldn’t I know? who would have told me? I loved you like I’ll call her I’ll see if she knows where you are And then, “Hey. My phones been elsewhere. Like ‘I ended u going with her for the weekend. It’s been interesting, to say the least.” I loved you like stop. I loved you like recalibrating I loved you like not-dead Just my heart sputtering, shutting down, a kind of sick feelings and wrong I loved you like want to cry Don’t want to cry I loved you like zeroing on on anger like missiles finding a heat signature I loved you like I can play this game better than you If you don’t care I won’t care even less I loved you like I was born in a pilots seat With my finger on the trigger Like a vulture Been waiting for this kill short for ages I loved you like over prepared Bug out bag packed and ready I loved you like an old fashioned arcade game Flashing lights Wrong answer Wrong answer Wrong answer Wrong answer I loved you like nightcaps of arsenic and whiskey Like the vertigo of a tornado Like wet socks Tight chests Push pins all over the floor And screw this bullshit I loved you like done when you are Ready to jump before the plane crash lands Like I packed my life raft in my carry on Got flares and rations And I am not afraid I loved you like days Twelve days of nothing. Twelve days of silence and then This week has felt weird, not talking to you Like a bulldozer plowing through the brick wall I’d been carefully building Surprise I’m back The arcade powering up and then I loved you like round two A careful score card read between Lifelines growing and depleting with every volley of text messages I loved you like 300-word response, backspace, twenty word reply I loved you like the stop-go of a nervous driver Like this isn’t going to work Like slap in the face after punch to the stomach And “Goodbye.” Six months later, I loved you like the slow, flickering power on from an ancient computer The dial up tone And then White screen Blinking curser ‘Would you like to play a game?’ I loved you like nostalgic seasons with rewrites Like a speeding up bicycles And scraped knees and palms from flying off I loved you like the first time I’ve cried in months, Tight hugs And He doesn’t want me back I loved compassionately I loved like the abuse of compassion, and ruthless retaliation I loved like world war three I loved like bombs and mortar shells blowing up around me And trying to sleep through the night I loved like shit I knew that line sounded family And ‘I didn’t include that line as a point of conversation’ I loved like stop and go, again Go Stop It’s right Not Like wait Did you just— Hold on, a second I loved you like landmines I loved you like twisting stomach, Anger waltzing with sadness Foxtrotting with nostalgia Doing the Lindy Hop with confusion I loved like, “Buddy, you haven’t seen angry poetry, yet” I loved like, did you know I cried on my birthday? Did you know I spent more time sobbing than watching dinosaur movies? Did you care? I loved like, you didn’t care Not enough Not like the war submarines I’d sent to the front lines The offers of peace turned to handshake grenades Like explode in your face And I’ll show you what anger looks like on a woman I loved you like hate Or something very close to it Exploding in my chest In my room Filling me like panic line Do not overfill I loved you like wanting something I can’t have Like conviction that I am doing the right thing I loved you like walking out, and wishing it wasn’t the right choice. I walked away like Andersen’s little mermaid Feet bleeding from the pain of it I loved you like a leap of faith Panicked free fall And a sudden impact of disappointment As you weren’t what I knew you could be I loved you like mistakes happen When we’re young Or when we trust I loved you like screaming myself hoarse in the bathroom, Banging on the glass between us why can’t he hear me I love you like celebrating the moments you got mad Because at least you were reacting I loved you like did you text me two days before my birthday Just to be apathetic And hurt And hurt And hurt me All over again? I love you like snide remarks you are in no position to say to me Like freedom tastes a lot like magic And did you know this? Do you think you’ll ever experience it? I loved you like long story, written out Some of the piece missing Like I kind of know what happened But the subtitles are a little off So I’m not quite sure who the villains were And if the heroes won Or if Maybe Some of those characters deserved a better ending I loved like the ending of a foreign movies I have no idea what the hell just happened I loved like I really missed out on the Taylor Swift, first time around I loved you like why didn’t he care? What did he want? What could I have done better Different To get a better ending? I loved you like disappointment being the spice of growing up Getting older Getting smarter And making the hard choice To Once again Yank out the poison thorn that you stuck in me, Get myself to a hospital Sew up my wounds because you threw a grenade through the key hole And tore me apart. Getting older is not always easy And losing you was not always as hard As it should have been But on nights like these I’m still quite convinced You lost nothing when you chose her And I lost everything I loved you like realizing That you never loved me, at all.

Kiwi Foster © 5/29/19

[dregstrash]

Knife in the Back (ch. 3)

a/n: Here’s chapter 3 of the collab fic I did with @wafflesandkruge for the @grishaversebigbang. Definitely check out all the art that came with this in the first chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!

AO3 // Chapter 1

Anyone can make a mistake. 

That single thought spun in Inej’s mind as she drove back to the station after her brief meeting with Kaz Brekker. 

No one was infallible. Human error was always going to be a factor. Even self-proclaimed experts could make the stupidest mistakes. Brekker shouldn’t be an exception. It should have been simple to believe that he had taken off his glove after dumping the girl, and had thrown it away by accident.

If she could manage to believe that, and when Wylan was done analyzing the glove, she could have enough evidence to bring Kaz in with one concrete piece of evidence. It could be enough to prosecute him for this murder, and then tie that back to the unsolved murder from five years ago which she had always suspected he was behind. In one fell swoop, she could bring Kaz Brekker down. But, unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to believe that someone as meticulous as him would ever just take his gloves off at the end of a job, and leave them out in the open. 

She’s spent the better part of three years following the murky and unclear path of Kaz Brekker, and if she knew anything about the Bastard of the Barrel it was that he always got the job done, and he always left no trace. Rumors say that he was a sleeper agent from Shu-Han, waiting for the right moment to strike against the Kerch. Others say that he was tied to dozens of murders of high dignitaries and ambassadors, and that if you ever wanted to make someone disappear, he was the best. Inej has spent countless hours pouring over the stories and the hearsays, but nothing could ever point to anything conclusive. 

And with this one perfectly wrapped crime scene sitting on her lap, it was hard for her to take it as it was. She pulled up to the police parking lot, and headed straight for the forensics department. Wylan had texted that he had something promising, and Inej was ready to hear about anything that didn’t have a massive question mark attached to it.

“Hey, Inej.” Wylan called from the back of the room as the sliding doors let Inej in her friend’s office.

“Wylan,” Inej greeted as she reached where her friend was hunched over his computer looking at a document that made Inej’s eyes swim. “You said you had something for me?” 

He looked up and his sky blue eyes danced excitedly, making his red gold curls appear more disheveled than usual. 

“Yes! You were right. The glove does match the DNA evidence that was found in your cold case from five years ago. So it’s definitely Kaz Brekker’s.” Inej didn’t even have time to be surprised before Wylan continued. “With the state of the body, I think you can probably guess to the cause of death.” He pointed to the bullet hole through the hear of the corpse. “But there was a significant penetration at her kidney that happened ante-mortem.”

“Torture?”

Wylan lifted his shoulders, “Most likely.”

Curious, Inej thought. The murder was almost exactly like her cold case, but while she was positive Kaz Brekker was the culprit to the former, she couldn’t be positive about him being responsible for the latter.

“What about the clothes? Did you get anything on those?”

At this Wylan’s eyes dimmed slightly, “Unfortunately no. I can only really tell you that they had been freshly washed. No traces of hair or any carpet fibers or anything. If Brekker really did this, then he was pretty careful about taking out any evidence that could even remotely connect him to this murder.”

“Except for the glove.” Inej reminded him.

Wylan tilted his head and nodded. 

Inej sighed, “It just doesn’t make any sense. How can all the evidence point to Brekker, but then not point to him all at the same time?”

Wylan shrugged, and ran his hands through his hair, the gesture making him appear younger. It was so easy to forget that Wylan was just a little younger than Inej. He was the youngest forensic expert to ever work in their precinct, and he was a kid genius on top of it all. If things didn’t make any sense to him then something truly wasn’t adding up. 

Inej stared at the glove sitting innocently in an evidence container and tried to iron out the doubts that were sitting restlessly in her mind. Forgetting everything else, if the culprit wasn’t Kaz Brekker, then who would it be? And why go through all the trouble to frame him?

Her thoughts were disrupted as she heard the sliding doors of Wylan’s office slide open.

Matthias appeared with his usual scowl, and Inej suppressed a smile at Wylan’s suddenly straight posture. Wylan would never admit it aloud, but Inej suspected he was still afraid of Matthias.

“The CCTV footage has been sent over.” Matthias told Inej. 

“Great.” She said. “Thanks for all you help, Wy. Let us know if you find anything else.” 

“Will do.” He saluted and turned to face his computer.

“Also,” Inej brought up before she could leave, “Try to lighten up on the coffee.” She gestured to the three empty coffee cups on his otherwise organized desk. It didn’t escape her notice that they all came from Brekker’s Brews. “That stuff will kill you, you know?” 

Wylan blushed a bright red at Inej’s insinuation, but he only offered a nod in acknowledgement. It seems that even if she had told him who was the owner of that particular establishment, it couldn’t quite keep their lab tech away.

“What did Wylan say about the glove?” Matthias said as he sat back on his chair, waiting for the grainy video to hint at any clue that could help them in their case. 

Inej didn’t turn to look at him, but she responded anyway, “He said that it could point to being Brekker’s and could link him to the murder that happened five years ago.”

“But you don’t think it’s him, do you?”

Inej sighed, “I don’t know what I think. I want it to be him. I want the evidence to be nice and clean and I can finally put his ass behind bars. But I’ve been on Brekker’s tail for a long time, and he’s not this sloppy.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Matthias responded. And while that was exactly her thought, she just couldn’t get herself to believe it, even if it came from her trusty partner. 

Inej was about to tell him her doubts when a movement happened on screen.

“Okay looks like we got something here.” Matthias said. 

There were two figures that entered the periphery of the camera. One was clearly shorter than the other, but built like a brick wall, while the other had the stature of a football player. Despite the grainy footage, Inej was still able to discern the faint presence of a tattoo on both of their forearms. 

She held her breath as they both looked over their shoulders, clearly looking on the lookout for something. The football player smiled and nudged his friend roughly. The other shook his head and shoved him away. He walked to where the body was found and made another comment to his friend. The shorter man walked off screen, and before the video could continue white static filled the screen.

“What--”

“The wires got cut around there, unfortunately.” Matthias sighed. “This was the only street cam facing the alley, and there was nothing that showed up on the closest street cameras. But did you see those tattoos?”

Inej nodded, “Razorgulls. Do you still have contacts in the gang unit?”

“No need.” He said. “I remember those guys from my gang unit days. They hang around the docks. If we don’t find them there, I know a couple more popular hangs for these guys.”

“Let’s go.”

By the time Matthias and Inej had caught sight of the two figures from the surveillance cameras, they were a little late. It had nothing to do with the fact that they had been scouring the city long enough for the true dark of the night to descend upon them. It had to with the fact that someone had gotten to the two gang bangers first. And that someone was Kaz Brekker. If that wasn’t bad enough, it looked like he was in the middle of beating them to death. 

“Hey! Stop! Police!” Matthias’s deep voice cut through the cries of pain coming from the two men. But it was like he said nothing at all because Brekker used the cane in his hand to swing down on a shin. Inej struggled to prevent her shudder as she heard the distinct sound of bone shattering. 

“I’ve told you all that I know!” The man screamed through his pain.

“I consider myself a good judge of character, Geels, and I know for a fact you’re lying.” Kaz opened his mouth to say something else, but Matthias was almost on him and he growled in frustration, “Looks like we’re going to have to continue this conversation later. That is if you can post bail.” 

Kaz broke for a run just as Matthias got within arms reach, and Inej had to hand it to him, for someone who needed a cane to navigate through the world, he moved faster than shadow. But unfortunately for him, Inej knew she was faster. 

“Matthias arrest those two,” She gestured to the two injured men, “I’ll take Brekker!”

She broke out into a run, and while Kaz had a head start, she would argue she knew this harbor better than anyone. Including Kaz. So when he had turned a left into a row of cargo containers in an attempt to confuse her though the maze of metal boxes, she just smiled to herself and climbed one with practiced ease. It took her almost no time to see his path and even less time for her to sprint and jump and land right on top of him.

His body cushioned her fall, and if her mind wasn’t so preoccupied with the bruise she knows she’s going to have on the knee that took some of the fall, she would have had room to ponder at the heat emanating from him, as well as the way she felt his muscles freeze in what seemed like panic when her hand brushed against the exposed skin of his wrists. 

“Kaz Brekker, you’re under arrest for the assault of two key witnesses in a murder.” Inej grunted reaching around her waist for her handcuffs. 

She waited for his inevitable comeback, but for the first time of ever talking to Kaz Brekker, he was silent. Inej studied him, and noticed the clench in his jaw and the glazed expression in his eyes. She’s arrested her fair share of criminals, and one way or another they had the same panicked, trapped expression. But Brekker wasn’t acting like a trapped criminal, he was a cornered animal that looked like he might pass out at any given moment. 

Is he okay? 

No sooner had she thought it, Matthias materialized at her shoulder breathing heavily.

“Leave it to the great Inej Ghafa to catch the most uncatchable killer.” He said. 

Inej wrenched her mind away from Kaz’s strange behavior and scrambled off of him after securing the metal cuffs.

Matthias grabbed Kaz roughly and had a tight hold on his shoulder.

“Watch his hands, Helvar. He’s a slippery one.” Inej managed, still puzzled by Brekker’s uncharacteristic silence.

Matthias nodded, but Inej’s focus wasn’t on him. She just watched Kaz get led to the police car, pondering the simple fact that the great Kaz Brekker seemed to be having a panic attack.

[ohwowreallycool]

You Don’t Get the Girl

This is gonna be a multiple part story. So, buckle up! Let me know what you think.

STORY SUMMARY: You’re a part of the Avengers now, but not everyone knows your past. That’s okay though, because you don’t know everyone else’s past, either. A relationship forms and he’s your world, but did he take part of your world away?

THIS PART SUMMARY: It’s mission time, but you get distracted. 

“Eyes up,” valiant Captain Steve Rogers, that annoying little voice in your ear, “this is our shot.”

And with that your team grabbed their gear and walked off the jet. Intel had just come in that this hospital was a cover for a major HYDRA center. Apparently, these people really were everywhere. You got your mission stations and positions on the jet.

“You know your jobs,” leading the way to the back of the hospital, Captain America talking far too much. . .as usual, “let’s get in there and get it done!” Landing a swift kick to the back doors, your team filed in. 

Immediately, you knew there was something wrong. Where were all the people, “It’s ah,” pausing to look at the fearless leader, “Kinda quite don’t ya think?”

“Easy, y/n,” Wanda meeting your gaze with a soft smile, “the intel was good.” You had to huff at her optimism. Being ready for an all-out-war, made these quiet halls even more eerie. Finally, your team started moving forward, Tony being the one to initiate the move. 

“Well, Cap,” Tony began as he started down the hall, “Your girlfriend’s right.” Making Wanda and Steve smile at one another. “This place is definitely HYDRA.”

“What gave it away?” a rough voice behind you.

“This whole hall is lined with laser sensors, Tin-Man.” As Natasha walked up to Tony, he stuck his arm out in front of her, “Don’t pass this line.” his toes bouncing against a line in the white tile.

Squinting hard to see these lasers, “How do we get past ‘em?” you said, still interested in why HYDRA would go to such a new defense plan. You were used to the 5,000 man army posted at the door, not a technical laser grid. 

“Working on it,” Tony responded rather short. Warranting your tongue being stuck out at him. . .at least you thought. Natasha caught you, though, and searched the ground as she hid a smile. A flash of green lines lit up the hall before the faded out. “Okay, they should be down.”

“Should be?” Captain America not impressed with Tony’s solution.

“Only one way to know,” that rough voice behind you walking to the front.

“Buck!” Captain America pleading with him to stay.

Bucky turned around looking far too serious, and waved his hands telling him to “chill-out”. And then, he just swaggered down the hall. 

“Well,” Tony looking at Captain America, “he’s not fried yet.”

Wanda shaking her head at him. The team walked all the way to the stairs without a single hitch. Then all the way down the stairs, to the basement, without a single problem. 

“This isn’t right,” Natasha whispering to Wanda.

“I know. . .I know. . .”

Bucky, still leading, stopped at the edge of a corner. He motioned that everyone line the wall behind him. “They’re here.”

Tony charged his suit, Captain tightened his shield, energy sprung from Wanda’s fingers, and you reached for your gun. Bucky looked back at the team, “ready?” meeting your eyes. You nod, “here we go!” And with that he tossed a pulled grenade down the hall.

Your team blazed through the agents down the hall as you finally reached a more familiar HYDRA. It was chaos, energy blasts everywhere bullets flying all over, and agents dropping to the floor all around you. You finally ran out of bullets, just as an agent ran towards you. You ducked as he swung for your head, punching him directly in the stomach, while you reached for your knife fastened to you calf. Standing again, you smiled as you sunk your blade into his chest, ripping down, through his flesh. He fell to the floor, as you stepped over his body.

“That was a bit much.” Natasha meeting your stride as you made your way to the team. 

“Meh,” you shrugged your shoulders. The team moved into a large freight elevator, heading down to where the information should be. 

“Alright,” Captain again with his little pep-talks, “this is it. Natasha, locate the computer and get the info. We’ll keep you covered.”

bing

The elevator doors slide open and the team goes to work. The fight’s not hard, just taxing. There are so many of these guys. Not trained well, and most go down in two, maybe three, moves. But it’s just a constant stream of them. Never ending. 

“Retrieving now,” a small voice buzzing through the comms. Starting to get a little bogged down by the number of agents attacking you, you grab a HYDRA gun that lays at your feet. As you start dropping these a-holes, and notice a shadowy figure moving along the back wall, “Hey! Who the hell is that?” Pointing to the figure.

Tony, mid swing, “I’m on it.” 

“I’ll join you,” clearing yourself a path to the back wall. Nearly half way there, “Anything yet?”

“He seems to be a heavy hitter for HYDRA: a Captain Sir.” Tony lets out a chuckle, “you gotta be kidding me with this.”

“He’s a trainer, high level.” Bucky again, closer to you than you knew. 

“I’m taking him.” you announce.

“Following,” Bucky turning on his heels to follow.

Jumping a desk, you land in front of Captain Sir, now swallowed in shadows, too, “Going anywhere important, sweetheart?” with a devilish smile.

He pulls a knife and goes for your throat, you pulling back just in time. As he moves towards you, you plant your heel on his toes - making him step back - and punch him across the face. As he turns, Bucky is there and strikes him, hard in the sternum. Captain Sir, doubles over and lands on the ground. 

“I had that under control, you know?”

“Just helping out”

Over the comms, Natasha has the information. Captain America, “Alright! Let’s go, we’re outta here. Y/n, Bucky make sure we take him.”

Nodding, you grab Captain Sir’s wrist and begin pulling him along the floor.

Bucky, smiling at you, “You want help with that?”

“No.” you say through straining teeth. Why the hell was this guy so heavy? You turn around and pick up the other wrist as Bucky stand there watching. Now draggin this man and walking backwards, Bucky fires a shot behind you. You drop his wrists and turn around - a lifeless body slumps to the floor.

“Thanks.” 

Bucky just shakes his head, “Don’t mention it.”

As you get out of the shadows, you are thankful for the lights. Finally you can see properly. Captain Sir, though. He’s not as thankful. Screaming “It’s too bright” and “my glasses! my glasses!” 

“Oh shut up!” you scream and Bucky walks over to help you carry him out. As you bend down to grab his wrists again, Captain Sir sees your face and immediately stops talking. “Thank you!” You look up at Bucky and start dragging Sir across the concrete again, “Told you I got this!” an I-told-you-so smirk across your face.

Captain Sir starts laughing. Deep, hearty, full laughing, “So,” he says looking up at Bucky, “my work returns.” You glance at Bucky to make sure he’s not going to do anything stupid. . . we need this guy. “The Winter Soldier.” And with that Bucky says something in Russian to him as he walks over his dragging body - a curse you’re sure. 

Sir looks up at you. You can’t help but stare; it’s like he’s looking straight through your soul. He smiles and looks at you, “So. . .” and begins laughing again. He pushes the soles of his boots to ground and starts fighting against you. Through his laughter, he smiles again and looks into your eyes, “how’s Lindsey?” 

You drop his wrists and begin to stumble backwards. How? How did he know that? When would he have-? Could he have ever--? no. He’s just? is he? 

“Y/n!” Bucky screams as Captain Sir quickly rolls over and grabs a knife from his boot. You are pulled back to reality just in time to watch as he swipes the blade across your thigh.

Screaming in pain, you fall to the floor and watch through spots as Captain Sir escapes Bucky, too. 

Want to read more? Check this out

Part Two Here

[bijackkellys]

thunderstruck ; part one

lazarus, or the return of jack kelly

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer Word Count: 1,651 Dedications: a huge shoutout to my gf, beta reader, and number one fan @mistyw273​, and to @dimenovelcowboy​ for supporting me endlessly. tag list (if you’d like to be added to this list just send me an ask or dm!): @santa-fe-maniac​ @pulitzers-world​ @yo-let-me-get-a-milkyway​ @verified-dumbass​ @jewishdavidjacobs​ @agentsnickers​ @thetruthabouttheboy​ Author’s Note: hey readers! i want to start by saying thank you so much for all the support and interest so far—i was honestly not expecting to get so much feedback with just the introduction but i'm really thrilled so many people are here for the ride! i figured i would go ahead and put part one up; this is the only back-to-back update i'll be doing, but i wanted to have more than the prologue out there. from this point forward i'm going to try bi-weekly updates on tuesdays and fridays (that's tentative and subject to change depending on how things carry on, though!). again, thank you for your interest and i really really appreciate the feedback, it honestly means the world to me. with that, let's get on with part one! 

read it on ao3

five months later.

JACK DOESN’T KNOW WHEN he started running, and doesn’t know where to stop.

Right now the world is this hazy, deafening thing. The streets loop endlessly around him, too bright and too loud, a mix of over-saturated colors and sounds he can’t pull apart. In the middle of it all he feels as if he’s drowning. He’s drugged up to his eyes, this much he can tell—there’s little else that he’s aware of, though, except for his feet pounding against the pavement and this base, animalistic instinct in the back of his brain telling him to go. To run and run and keep running. 

So he does. Buildings and road signs and people dissolve into background noise as he tears through the streets. Someone is after him; as disoriented as he is, he’s sure of it, and it’s that hot rush of fear that keeps him going more than anything else. A spike of adrenaline pushing him forward. 

Maybe he’s lost them miles ago, but it’s not until the moment he thinks his legs will give out underneath him that he collapses against the back wall of an alleyway, sputtering for a breath. His lungs burn and he feels dizzy, but Jack pushes past the blurred images in his head and the low ringing in his ears to catalog what he knows. His name is Francis—no. He swallows dryly and starts again. His name is Jack Kelly. He’s eighteen, maybe nineteen, now, depending on how much time has passed. He’s an art student, and a superhero, and there was a fire, and then—

And then everything fills up with static and the feeling of hands on his skin and this harsh, chemical smell. His stomach turns. 

Jack hates feeling like this, like he’s been separated from his own thoughts. The lack of control that comes with the clouded figures where his memories should be is enough to make him vulnerable in a way he hasn’t felt in years, exposed like a copper wire that’s been stripped of its casing. 

And the current—that’s gone altogether. There are silver cuffs biting into the skin of his wrists; the seam that held them together is broken along a jagged edge, but the slim band of green light lining them means they’re still suppressing his powers. Jack aches for the buzz of electricity to come back, needs them off. He twists his hands desperately and in doing so, makes his drug-addled brain suddenly aware of a cold piece of metal clenched in his fist.

He opens his palm. It’s a flash drive. His mind dredges up a fuzzy memory of ripping it from a computer port in what he thinks might have been a control room. He doesn’t know what it contains, but if he’d held onto it so desperately that it became second nature, then it must be important. He needs to find a computer, he thinks abruptly, and then stands up and immediately sways on his feet. 

Okay—okay. Not yet, maybe. Before that, he needs food and water and rest. He needs the lodging house, except he has no idea where he is, and in the state he’s in, he barely knows which way is up. He needs—he needs to call Crutchie.

Jack is struck suddenly by the overwhelming desire to hear his pseudo-brother’s voice, strong enough that his chest physically hurts from it. It’s been—weeks, maybe? months?—the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other since they were kids. If he can get his hands on a phone and get Crutchie on the line, he thinks, then powerless and drugged or not, he’ll be okay. 

It’s not much of a plan, but it’s a start. All he has to do is find a phone. This is easier said than done, though; there’s still a payphone booth left next to a nearby subway station, rusted from lack of use, but he doesn’t have any money. He’s aware of how he must look, a boy in tattered clothes with cloudy eyes and words slurred together, begging for change. More than one person threatens to call the police. Most of them just push him away. Jack feels his desperation pitching upward quickly, tightening in his throat.

When a stranger finally hands him a few quarters with a wary look, he’s not sure if it’s fear or pity or some combination of the two that makes her do it. He’s grateful all the same. He rushes over to the booth, blood roaring in his ears from the anticipation. His hands are shaking so hard that his fingers stumble over the keypad, but he knows Crutchie’s number by heart, is sure he could dial it in his sleep. It goes to voicemail and Jack shoves the receiver against his ear.

“Crutchie, it’s me—it’s Jack. Please pick up.”

When he slides the second quarter into the slot and calls again, it barely has a chance to ring.

“Jack is dead.” Crutchie’s voice comes through, wavering. Jack almost chokes on his relief.

“I’m not,” he says, and there’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and then a noise that sounds like a broken sob. 

“No—”

“Crutchie, I’m here. It’s me. I’m not dead.”

“How…”

“I don’t know,” Jack says, truthfully. 

“You—you can’t—fuck, Jack.” And in the middle of everything, Jack is caught off guard because Crutchie almost never swears. There’s a long quiet, broken by just the static-filled sound of Crutchie crying. Jack’s own cheeks are wet. “It’s been five months,” he gasps finally. “I thought—we all thought you died in that fire. Holy shit. Where have you been?”

Jack’s head spins. He hadn’t even realized how much time has passed. Five months...it’s June now, then, and the spring semester of classes is already over, and he’s nineteen, and there’s this gaping chasm of lost time in his head—

“—ck? Jack.” 

He realizes that Crutchie is calling his name abruptly, and Jack blinks, trying to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, I-I’m here. I don’t—everything’s fuzzy, Crutchie, I don’t know what happened, where I’ve been—” His words trip and stumble over each other. “I’m gonna try and find my way back to the lodging house, I’ve just gotta—”

“No, no, wait, you can’t,” Crutchie cuts him off, suddenly fierce. Jack pauses.

“What do you mean?”

His response is quieter this time, tentative. Slow, like he’s walking on his toes. “Jackie...how much do you know about what’s been going on?” 

Dread pools in Jack’s chest, hot and fast. For as long as they’ve known each other, he’s only heard Crutchie sound like this, scared and small and hesitant, a few times before. Something has gone deeply wrong; he knows it in an instant, maybe should have realized it even before now. “What is it, Crutchie?” he demands.

Crutchie takes a shuddering breath. “They said you set the fire,” he says, and Jack’s stomach plummets. “It was all over the news—they said the hospital wasn’t an accident, that Strike—that you—had planned the whole thing, did it on purpose.”

“No...” Jack feels nauseous, dizzy, sure in that moment that he’s going to be sick all over the pavement. His memories of the hospital brim with fear and heat and voices that echo in his skull, and the idea that the public believes he’s the cause of that, of all that death and destruction, hurting innocent people—he can’t stomach it. Doesn’t know how to.

“Jack, people were angry. Really angry. Not just at Strike—there was a whole new anti-super wave, worse than it’s ever been before, and now everyone thinks supers are dangerous and they started... taking people.” Crutchie’s voice goes even lower as Jack feels his heart crawl up into his throat. “They—we call them Snatchers, we think they’re in league with the police—they’ve surrounded the lodging house and swarmed half the city, dragging kids with powers off to someplace called the Refuge.”

Everything goes hot and sharp for a moment, a quick snap of recognition that burns like fire. Jack tastes metal in his mouth, chokes on it. “That’s where I was,” he says hollowly. He knows it even through the fogginess in his head.

“Oh, Jackie,” Crutchie begins, but Jack doesn’t let him finish.

“Are the others—is everyone okay? Race, Specs, Elmer—did they get taken?” The lodging house is a frequent stop for super kids who need a place to spend the night, but the three of them and Jack are the only permanent residents that have powers. If the Snatchers found them, they’d have been dragged off to the same fate that Jack has only just escaped. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Crutchie says yes.

“They’re holed up with Spot in Brooklyn,” Crutchie replies, and Jack lets himself exhale. “I haven’t been talking to them a whole lot, because they’re trying to stay under the radar, but the last time I heard from them, they were okay.” He gives a rattled sort of laugh, devoid of humor and more exhausted than anything. “Shit, Jackie. Everything fell apart without you.”

Jack passes a hand over his face, wants to cry. Wants to scream and tell Crutchie that he’s lost and drowned and terrified, that he feels more helpless than he’s ever been, that for all the time he’s spent playing hero he doesn’t know how to save anyone from this. Instead, though, he sets his jaw. “I’m gonna fix this, Crutchie,” he says, half-promise and half-prayer. He’ll find a way.

“Jack—” Crutchie begins, but what he’s going to say next Jack doesn’t find out. The timer clicks, and there’s a robotic female voice in place of Crutchie’s that tells him the call has timed out. 

The line goes dead and then Jack is alone all over again, the vow he made weighing as heavy as the shackles on his wrists. 

[gillianaunofficial]

Forbidden Fruit Part 2 as requested by @pale-shadow-of-a-dragon

AO3

Rating: E for evidently you don’t just want to fuck Jean

And This Curve, Is Your Smile And This Cross, Is Your Heart And This Line, Is Your Path

It’s last period. Friday, the only half day you get, leading into a weekend of dreaming about her, as you sit alone in your flat marking tests. You watch as the students trail off from doing the work but you barely intervene asides from a brief ramble about productivity before your mind trails off thinking about Jean again. God. One moment you hated her and now you’re absolutely obsessed. Pull yourself together, you think as you watch the minutes hand tick closer to 12:30. 10 more minutes and you’ll be free. You need to speak to her, to tell her what you’re feeling. That you want more. Maybe she’ll want more as well. Almost in an instant it’s the end of the period and the bell rings, dismissing the students. You say a short goodbye and wait for them all to leave the classroom before switching off your computer and making your way to Jean’s office. You knock on the door, your heart drumming out a staccato beat.

“It’s the end of the day, you’ll need to come back next week.” Jean says, then you enter the room and she looks up as she’s packing a notebook into her handbag.

“Y/N.” She says.

“Hello, Jean.” You reply and lean against the empty filing cabinet next to the doorway. There’s an aura of tension radiating between the two of you.

“I was wondering if you’d come back.” She said, zipping her bag up and sitting on her desk, her legs not quite long enough to touch the floor, even in the wedges you’d noticed she loves so much.

“I was hoping you’d like to…” You trail off, a little embarrassed under Jean’s scrutiny to say what you’d been wanting to ask for the last few days.

“What? Go out for food? Go to the cinema? Go shopping? No I wouldn’t.” Jean’s defences had pulled up, she was used to people coming back to her with these demands that she refused to meet. You stare at her, your mouth slightly open as you try to find your words.

“No, nothing of the sort, actually.” You say, your words disconnected and stuttered.

“Then what?” She says, softer this time, fiddling with the cuff of her orange jumpsuit.

“If you wanted to fuck again?” You’re on edge as she looks at you. She stares but then suddenly bursts out laughing. You laugh nervously with her.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry, I had the wrong idea.” She says, pulling herself together. “We can do that.” You smile, a weight being lifted off your chest.

“Okay.” You reply, unsure what exactly to say.

“We can go to my house, my son shouldn’t be there, he said he was going out with some friends after school.” Jean says, picking up her coat from the back of her chair and putting it on, you stand there, suddenly mortified at the thought of going back to Jean’s house.

“Are you sure?” You ask and she nods.

It only took a single nod for your willpower to break and then you’re sitting in the passenger seat of her blue Mercedes, music quietly playing from the radio as she drives, little conversation between the two of you. You’re nervous, despite having literally fucked her in front of another teacher, albeit from somewhere he couldn’t see, but now you’re in this woman’s car. This woman you couldn’t stop thinking about is driving you to her house to have sex with her. You look at her, her intent stare as she watches the traffic lights. She looks at you and smiles, you’ve made the right decision. You would have gone insane with want if you hadn’t done this.

Her house is large and homely. It wasn’t at all what you’d expected, looking at Jean you’d have thought that she’d own something modern and neat but it’s neither of those things. A sofa sits in front of a coffee table and a TV is surrounded by DVD boxes, there are shelves brimming with books and bowls filled with fruit. It reminds you of the house you’d dreamt of as a child. She asks if you’d like a drink and you shake your head before she practically pulls you upstairs and into her bedroom which is just as homely as the rest of the house. She pushes you down onto the bed, her tongue teasing your lips before kissing you, her legs straddle yours and a hand pushes down on your chest. You kiss before she gets up and quickly discards her jumpsuit to reveal that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She leans over you again, undressing you, her mouth on your lips and on your neck, you moan as she sucks your pulse point, leaving what will probably evolve into a hickey. God, she’s absolutely gorgeous. She gives you some freedom and you begin to kiss her before forcing her into the bed and working her nipples with your tongue, touching the soft puckered skin of her areolas. Her hands hold you by the waist and begin to sneak down to feel the curve of your ass, it’s your turn to moan as she touches you, squeezing the soft skin.

“Is this okay?” She says, taking her lips from your skin.

“Yes.” You reply as a wave of arousal rushes over you. “Touch me.” You beg, from over her, making direct contact with the shining blue of her eyes. She gets out from under you and makes it so she’s sitting in between your legs, you’re still wearing both your bra and pants. She quickly makes sure that isn’t a reality anymore. Jean’s lips travel from your sternum down to your hip bones, leaving long wet kisses. She slips a hand in between your soaked thighs, feeling your need.

“You’re so wet.” She says, and your mouth practically waters at those words as she begins to touch you, circling your clit as you arch against her hand. You clench the sheets as she slides between your folds.

“Faster.” You say and she goes faster, the muscles of your thighs tense and she’s bringing you to orgasm even quicker than you could with your own hand. You look up at her, her hair only slightly dishevelled, you reach out for her, tangling your hand through her choppy hair, wanting to see her as needy as you are for her. You kiss her hard, teeth almost clashing against each other. Your hand is cupping her cheek, the delicate lines that run across her skin a Braille pattern of her emotions.

“Fuck.” She moans into your lips as your leg bends and your thigh is in between her thighs and she sheds her pants, riding your thigh, getting her glorious wetness all over you. You kiss her and feel her ass before slowly removing your leg from between her thighs. She raises an eyebrow but you quickly replace the limb with your hand, touching her in all the right places. You find her hole and a finger goes in, pushing hurriedly before adding another, and letting her grind against you as you thrust into her. You grab her wrist with your other hand has her hand tries to join yours. Normally she wouldn’t accept this but for once she does, letting you do whatever you like to her. Her face contorts in ecstasy and she begins to moan as you add a third finger to her pussy, it only takes a few more thrusts until she’s coming and she’s all over your hand. You collapse together on the bed, laced in each other’s nakedness. Her chest heaves as she takes short breaths, coming down from her orgasm. You’ve never seen anyone’s afterglow look quite so gorgeous as she does right now. Your fingers end up near her mouth and she sucks the taste of herself from your damp hands before kissing you, her hand finding your hip. It’s so strangely intimate and like nothing you’ve ever felt before. She begins to touch you again but before she can properly start you have a request.

You’re in between her legs and she’s in between yours and you’re eating each other out, tasting the slick, salty taste. Jean has almost never felt so good and neither have you. Her tongue slides from your clit to your opening, brushing your labia, sucking you and tasting you. And god it feels amazing. You moan into her pussy as she presses against your face. You’ve synced rhythms and work together effortlessly, easily bringing each other to peak again.

“Oh, fucking god.” Jean moans into you and it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. She comes hard and fast, and you do too, her tongue so talented in the act of sex. You shouldn’t be surprised but you are. You’re both exhausted and lie on the bed, naked and too hot to lie under her patterned covers. A sheen of sweat makes both of you glow and you find her hand. You expect her to pull away but she doesn’t. She just looks at you, a somewhat bittersweet smile hanging on her lips. She doesn’t speak and you don’t ask. You just lie there until Jean says she has a client in half an hour and so it’d be best if you left. As you dress, she lies there watching you, still naked and there’s a feeling of vulnerability that you would never have felt coming from her if you didn’t have this single moment. She looks at you as you leave, a dissatisfaction of a sort. As you walk downstairs you see a blank post it note and an idea strikes you. You write your phone number down, and your name. You leave her with the decision. An infinite series of possibilities.