#not tagging further to avoid cluttering searches

[nerdgatehobbit]

Okay, now that I’ve seen the first season of DS9, I’m going to give everyone a Pokémon or two. I’ll try to remember to redo this every season as I get a better understanding of the characters. It’s silly but I do enjoy doing this sort of thought experiment.

Benjamin has a Scyther purely because I know it’s associated with baseball due to a pun in the original Japanese. More seriously, I think it could work to have him start out with a very small team due to losing most of them on the Saratoga. Yes, it would make his backstory even more tragic, but I doubt it could happen otherwise, unfortunately.

Similarly, I think it’d be bittersweet if they had managed to grab one of Jennifer’s Pokéballs before escaping but I’m not sure what sort of Pokémon she’d have. Maybe an Altaria? Hmm. It’d help if I had a better grasp on her personality.

Regardless of the specifics of how a Star Trek/Pokémon fusion would work, Jake would be staying close to his dad after what happened rather than going on a journey. However, he does have a starter: I’m leaning towards a Chikorita right now.

Quark probably has some Meowth, Persian, & Perrserker that all know Pay Day (Kanto, Alola, and Galar variants). They also act as his underlings. Calling Odo a Ditto is a sure-fire way to get swindled by Quark and about the only way to even be threatened with being banned.

Meanwhile, Rom has a Rotom which quickly develops a feud with Miles. Nog has a male Nidoran (ultimately subverting expectations and all that).

Kira has an Absol, who was very helpful in alerting her to danger during the occupation. Maybe she also has a Fighting-Type Pokémon?

Odo definitely has a Mimikyu, because he’s sympathetic to changing your exterior in a failed attempt to obtain affection & acceptance.

Keiko clearly would prefer Grass-Type Pokémon. I’m just unsure if I want her to have an Ivysaur because it suits her or because I like it. Hmm.

Miles has an Lairon who is uninterested in evolving as it wants to remain able to tag along on Miles’ shifts.

Jadzia starts out with a brand-new starter as I’ve gathered that Trill try to ‘start over’ with each host. I’m just torn between a Charmander, Mudkip, or a Rowlet. Again I’m wondering if it’s because they’d fit her or if I’m just handing out my favorites.

I know Julian has a teddy bear but I’m not sure if a Teddiursa is a good fit for him. Perhaps a Glaceon, to hint at his concealed secrets? Since that wouldn’t be the evolution of Eevee to be expected of him.

Garak either has an Ariados or a Mightyena. He’s only been in one episode so I’m unsure which would work for him (both?).

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Tear Down My Reason

Orderly!Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: Your friend and follow paitent has seemingly disappeared. There surely has to be some clue of her whereabouts in Blue's office.

Part 2/Series Masterlist

A/N: I don't know what to say.

Warnings: overuse of italics, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, there's some power dynamics in here, gonna say dubious concent because reader is a patient, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 4805

________________________________

The lock on Blue’s office was embarrassingly easy to pick. For an asylum that was meant to house potentially dangerous individuals, they sure did have piss poor security.

Though, you technically were the only patient that could unlock doors with your improvised kit. A bent to hell fork, three hair pins, and a sort of straightened out spring from Abigail’s bed. 

Which is why you had to be the one to sneak in. 

The others had offered to come with you, not wanting you to face the risk alone. But, the more people the more likely it was that you’d be caught. 

The original plan had been for you to do this at night, ‘when no one else was around’, but as you’d quickly pointed out, there were plenty of people around after lights out. Lots in fact. If anything the corridors were patrolled more when the sun went down. 

So here you were, breaking in at just after 2pm. Right when Blue would be at lunch and away from his office. 

You crept in, quietly shutting the door behind you and heading for his desk. 

It wasn’t as much of a cluttered mess as you’d expected, a small mercy, but it was still a state. You sighed a little and then began to rummage through the files, keeping them as close to where they had been as you could. 

There had to be some clue here, some scrap of paper that told you where Lilly was. 

She had been taken to solitary three days ago. Solitary was empty. 

You had been searching for around ten minutes, finding nothing to aid you directly, but a few minor things that you committed to memory, such as the main access override code. 

There was a sound outside, footsteps, unmistakably Blue.

What. The. Fuck. 

You glanced at the clock: 2:11pm. He should still be at lunch, you should have plenty of time. The one fucking day that he doesn’t follow his schedule to the fucking second. 

Panic froze your limbs, squeezing them in a vice like grip that made you dizzy and nauseous. If he caught you… you end up dead. Or worse. 

You look desperately around the room for somewhere to hide. 

The outside of Blue reaches the frosted glass of the office door. 

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

There was a muffled voice, someone speaking. 

“Do I look like I care about your incompetence?” Blue’s voice cut over it. 

Oh good, not only was there another person but Blue was pissed off too. 

Swell. 

Lacking any other viable option, you dived under the desk, pushing yourself back as far as you could and pulling the chair back into its correct place as you went. 

The door clicked open the second you were out of sight, your heart in your mouth. You tried your best to stay quiet, to breathe as carefully and gently as you could even though it still sounded thunderous in your ears. 

“Sir,” you recognised the voice, Kevin, a slimy man that personally you would quite like to see castrated, “there has to be something that-”

“Sit the fuck down.” Blue marched over to the desk, pulled out the chair and sat. 

Narrowly you managed to avoid a knee to the face, and pushed yourself even further back. 

“I am so sorry that-”

“Do I have to repeat myself?” 

You couldn’t help a small smile. There was an undeniable glee in the fact that Kevin was the one in trouble. 

As you listened to Blue verbally punch him in the gut, you discovered the reason why Blue was back so early from lunch.

There had been a fight in the cafeteria. You didn’t know the patients involved personally, barely on a first name basis. Apparently Kevin had handled the situation badly. Very badly. Another orderly was in the infirmary. 

You could hear the shake in Kevin’s voice, even as he grew quieter and quieter in the face of Blue’s rage. 

There was one horrible moment when Blue shifted in his seat, stretching his leg out, his foot caught your thigh for a second. Time stretched. But Blue didn’t even falter in his admonishments. And you thanked whatever god’s that were looking out for you.

Finally, when it seemed like the head orderly had had enough of voicing his displeasure he stood and walked with Kevin as the latter left his office. “One more mistake like this and it’ll be your last, understand?” The underlying threat in his voice was like ice down your back, despite the fact it wasn’t directed at you. 

“Yes, yes sir, thank you, I won’t, yes sir.” Kevin tripped over every word in his haste to get out of Blue’s sight. 

There was a thud and click as the door shut. Blue let out a sigh of frustration. 

The sound of the clock on the wall ticked in its even pace. 

Surely he’d go and complete his lunch break, or maybe head outside for a smoke. 

Just a little longer, the finish line was in sight, you could-

“You can come out now honey.”

For a second you didn’t feel anything, no panic, no fear. Just blissful nothing. 

And then everything came crashing down. 

Blue’s shoes clicked as he walked over to the desk. 

You were going to be sick. You were going to pass out. Your heart was beating so fast that the vein in your neck was going to burst and you’d die from internal bleeding.

Blue pulled the chair back and poked his head under the desk to smile at you. The expression would be sweet on anyone else. 

He offered his hand. 

You looked at it and then to his face.

A rabbit caught in a snare about to be skinned alive by the hunter. 

“Are you going to be civil, or do I need to drag you out?” He asked calmly. 

You took his hand. 

His smile widened. 

Surprisingly he helped you up, one hand holding yours and the other on your upper arm, making sure you didn’t bang your head on the desk edge. 

He lets go of your hand, but not your arm and holds you close.

“To what do I owe the pleasure honey?”

Oh you didn’t like that, didn’t like that at all. The way he said it, the way his lips moved around the word, the small flash of his tongue between his teeth as he elongated it, dragged it out to be far longer than it needed to be. 

You swallowed, your throat dry. “How did…” you whispered.

“How did I know you were there?” Blue finished for you, as calmly as if he was asking you what you wanted for breakfast.

You nodded once, eyes wide. Afraid that the second you blinked he would lunge for you. 

He smiled sweetly. “My office door was unlocked.” 

Your stomach drops. “You knew the whole time?” 

His smile widens and he nods twice. “Did you enjoy Kevin getting his verbal beating?” 

“I…”

“I know he’s not a favourite amongst your lot.” He watched you carefully as he spoke, seemingly reading your mind from every micro action you made. “Though I don’t think he’s personally upset you, has he?” 

You stared at him, trying and failing to hide the shake in your limbs.

Blue reaches out with his free hand and slowly takes hold of your jaw. His touch is soft, light, but there’s a ridgedness to his grip, a threat of pain. “Has he?” Blue whispered.

“No.” You shake your head as much as he lets you. 

He smiles again, the expression gleaming against the sharp edge of cruelty in his eyes. “Good.” 

Slowly he lets go of your jaw to trace your right eyebrow with his warm fingers. The touch is firm, unforgiving, as he slides down your cheek. 

“Do you know why?”

You frown, shaking your head. 

“Do you know why he doesn’t bother you as much?” He pauses, waiting.

“I try to stay out of his way.” You whisper.

“No,” he lengthens the word a little, adding a slight musical bounce. “Try again.” 

“I…” you search his eyes for any sign, any hint of what the correct answer might be. Any way that you could side step his wrath. 

His fingers start to slide down to your neck. 

“I don’t.” You mutter, there are tears building in your eyes. You try to push them back. 

Blue grins. “Silly thing.” He takes his fingers away from your skin for a moment to tap the tip of your nose with his forefinger. 

You blink heavily, his firm grip on your arm stopping you from taking a step back in surprise. 

He moves forwards, forcing you around until the back of your thighs hit the edge of his desk and leans closer. “Can’t think of one, tiny reason?” He breathes, so close to you that your lips are almost touching. His left hand rests against the table behind you, caging you in.

“Blue-”

“What were you doing in here?” His eyes are still playful but his tone shifts, completely dropping the smooth seductive tones for something much colder. 

You swallow, and take a millisecond too long to answer. 

You see the change the instant it happens, playful Blue turning into a supernova. He was going to kill you, eat you alive and pick his teeth with the bones. 

Dread swelled up like an infection, blinding you to rational thought and you did the only thing that came to mind, the only action that could provide some semblance of a distraction to his anger.

You kissed him. 

It was panicked and off, your nose bumping into his, but he freezes when your lips touch. A short intake of breath escaping his lungs.

You pull back, your mind finally catching up with your actions.

"Oh honey," he purrs, "do you think kissing me will get you out of trouble?" 

You shake your head, eyes closed as tightly as you can.

Blue chuckles lightly and tilts your chin up with the tip of his finger, you move quickly as if his touch were burning.

"Open your eyes." A more foolish person would say he sounded kind.

He wipes a tear from your cheek as you do what he says. 

"I'll tell you why," he speaks softly, gently trying to lull you into security, "he doesn't bother you. Hmm?" He raises his eyebrows. "Do you want to know?" 

You nod just because you know it's the answer he wants. 

Blue leans closer, so that his lips just touch the shell of your ear. "He doesn't bother you," he traces his fingers along your jaw again, turning your face closer to his. "Because only I get to bother you. Only I get to touch you," he places a soft kiss on your cheek, "and kiss you. Only me. Understand?"

You frown slightly, it didn’t make sense. Your interactions with Blue had always been to the minimum, you did your best to stay out of his way.

You’d heard stories though, accounts of what he could be like when he was near his worst. Those were enough to make you tiptoe around him. 

Then the longer you thought about it… the orderlies didn’t bother you like they bothered everyone else, even when you should have been directly in their war path. You had assumed it was because you were quiet, trying to be careful around them, tried not to be the centre of their attention. 

You had nearly been caught outside of your room after lights out once or twice. On one specific occasion you had been sure that you were going to be spotted, that you’d been seen, but it was as if the orderly on patrol had just missed you, had turned down another corridor at the last second. 

What if they had seen you? What if they had been told you were off limits to even shout at? That wasn’t, that couldn’t be…

Blue kisses your cheek again, pressing his chest to yours. The action is soft, pleasant almost. 

“So what are you doing in here honey?” He whispers against your skin. “And how did you get in?” He leans back slightly and bites his plump bottom lip. 

He searches your face for a moment before he continues. “Either you, or someone else stole a key, or you picked the lock, or… ah,” he smiles, perfectly reading your expression even though you were sure you stayed neutral. “We have a lock picker in our midst.” 

You swallow, the nervous gulp clicked loudly in your throat.

“I’m going to ask you one last time, why are you here?” 

“Lilly.” You whisper. 

“Ah.” Blue smiles and nods as if all the pieces were just falling together in his mind. “Of course, she’s a friend of yours isn’t she?” 

You nod. “Where is she?” 

Blue continues to smile and says nothing. 

“They said she was in solitary.”

“Who did?” He asks playfully.

“But solitary is empty.”

“How do you know?” He tilts his head to the side, grinning like this was his favourite game. 

“Blue…” You search his face for a second, oh every move you could make seemed like a very, very bad idea. “Please.” 

‘Please.’ He mouths the word back at you, delighted. “You want a favour?” 

You look down and he tuts. Quickly you look back at him. “Yes.”

“Oh, I don’t do favours honey, not with people I hardly know.” He lightly skimmed his hand along your hip. “But I can do a deal.”

“A deal?” 

“Hmm.” He stares at you, waiting for your next move, willing you to ask.

“What do you want?” 

Blue grins wickedly. The cat that got the cream. “An orgasm.” 

Of course. 

You clench your jaw, and nod, once. 

Of course that’s what he wanted. 

You don’t let yourself think about it, just move as if you're on autopilot. You step forward, beginning to drop to your knees but Blue’s grip on your bicep tightens, halting your action. 

You stare up at him confused. 

“Oh honey, I love the enthusiasm but the orgasm I want is yours.”

He doesn’t give you a second to process his words as he grabs hold of your thighs and lifts you onto the desk unceremoniously. 

The suddenness of the action jolts you and you nearly fall completely back onto the papers and files. You grab hold of the edge to stop yourself. 

Blue chuckles at the sharp escape of air from your lungs and kisses you hungrily, sliding his tongue into your mouth and moaning happily. 

He keeps a firm hold of your thighs, spreading them wide and positioning himself perfectly between him. Not leaving an inch of space between your bodies as he grinds up against you. 

You gasp into his mouth, his kisses are an onslaught, demanding. Storm waves crashing onto you and the only way you can stop yourself from drowning is to kiss back, to match his energy with your own. 

You bite his lip and he growls when you push up against him, when you grab his shoulders and dig your nails in for stability. 

He breaks the kiss only to latch onto your neck, licking and sucking and worrying the skin between his teeth.

You bite your lips together, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, of letting him know you enjoyed anything he did. 

But the action was in vain, the way your breathing changed, how to pressed yourself further into his touch, leaning your head to the side so that he could gain better access, told him everything he needed to know. 

He licked a stripe up your neck, nipping lightly at your earlobe before planting a quick, wet kiss against your lips. 

Then he dropped to his knees. The action was so quick it took your mind a second to catch up with it. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Blue hooked his fingers under your waistband and pulled down your trousers and panties in one quick stroke. The force nearly knocks you over and you jump to your feet to avoid falling.

You swore under your breath, just managing to stay upright. 

Blue tutted and pushed your hip, forcing you to sit back on his desk. Then yanked your clothes off your feet and threw them to the side of the room, quickly repeating the action with your asylum issued slippers. He left your socks on.

Instinctively you moved to close your legs, but Blue situated himself quickly between them so that your knees just brushed the outside of his shoulders. 

He tutted again and placed one warm hand on your left inner thigh and pressed. You jolted at the light touch and he smiled as he spread your further open. 

Your muscles clenched as you squirmed under his gaze, fighting the urge to cover yourself. 

Blue gazed at your cunt, seemingly committing every part of it to memory. 

The cool air of his office left goosebumps along your skin and you shivered.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He whispered before slowly dragging the tip of his forefinger through your folds. 

Your toes curled, your hips instinctively bucked towards the touch as Blue continued to stare, mesmerised. His lips slightly parted. 

He let out a soft low moan as he teased your opening, unhurriedly sinking his finger further inside to his middle knuckle before easing it out. 

Blue licks his bottom lip at the feel and sight of your wetness coating his skin. He repeats the action again, and again, and again. Always light, alway teasing, not enough pressure or pushing far enough in to do anything but rile you up. Never enough to give anything resembling relief. 

The sound of your wetness echoed around the room with every slow push and pull. Embarrassment burned along your skin, you shouldn’t be enjoying this, shouldn’t be craving him to go further. 

You whimpered, trying to keep the sound internal to save some semblance of your self worth. 

Blue didn’t look up, but he did slip his middle finger inside you to join the other in the slow tortuous glide and twist. 

You couldn’t help but sigh in relief, it still wasn’t enough but at least it was something-

At the sound of your sigh he pushed in further, finally sheathing his fingers completely in your wet heat and curling them upwards to stroke your trembling walls.. 

“Blue!” You gasp, your voice so high pitched and whiney, so desperate for him. 

“That’s it honey,” he muttered, diving forward and kissing your clit. “That’s it.” 

You moaned, the sound catching in your throat and he groaned in response, his eyes rolling back as he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending shivers along your skin. “Taste so good honey.” He muttered before quickly returning to his previous actions. 

You couldn’t stop the little noises of pleasure cascading out of your mouth now, growing louder with every swipe of his tongue and caress of his fingers. 

His name fell out of your lips repeatedly, muffled and whispered but crystal clear to Blue’s ears.

The wet sound of his fingers continuously rang out as your slick began to drip down to his wrist and pool on the desk underneath you. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” he muttered as you grabbed hold of the back of his head with your left hand, your hips rising forward to meet his tongue and fingers, to push them deeper, harder. 

“Blue, I, oh god,” pleasure was curling so tightly in your belly, starting to send little spikes along your muscles. “Please!” 

Your sharp cry cut off whatever you were going to say next as bliss flooded your veins, overriding any other thought. 

Blue’s left hand squeezed your thigh as he continued to lick and suck and curl his fingers throughout your orgasm, trying to prolong it as much as he could. 

You came down slowly, breathing hard. 

At first you thought you’d have to tell him to stop, if he would even listen you to that is, but seemingly instinctively he slowed his movements and carefully pulled his fingers from you as he gave one last kiss to your centre. 

“Thank you.” He muttered, his voice almost inaudible. He stayed on his knees, looking down. Your cum shining on the bottom half of his face. 

He seemed so… soft like this. Behaved and, there was flutter in your core. You wanted him to… you wanted to…

You wanted him.

You leant down, your legs still shaky and tilted his head up. He stared at you with wide, confused eyes for a moment before you kissed him ravenously. This time forcing your tongue into his mouth before he had a chance to react. 

He moaned loudly, his lips moving against yours as you licked into his mouth, tasting your release and scrapping your nails along the back of his head. 

Blue sat up straighter, raising up on his knees and grabbing hold of you everywhere, anywhere he could touch to hold you closer. He whined into your kiss, heat rising to his skin as you lavished attention on him. 

“You don’t have to do this honey,” he gasped between kisses, “you did your part of the deal, I’ll-”

“Get on the chair.” You growled, biting his lower lip. 

He whimpered, soft and low in his throat as you pulled back and quickly did as you commanded. Sitting on his chair hastily and lacking grace. 

You took the smallest moment to enjoy the view. His kiss swollen lips and flushed skin, how needy he looked, the light pinch in his forehead, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing, how desperate he was. 

With a little hop down from the desk you approached him, pulling off your top and bra and dropping them to the floor. 

His eyes raked over your body, now completely bare for him. For a moment he was seemingly hypnotised by the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hip and reached out for you, running his hands comfortingly over your skin. 

You kissed him again needily, demanding his submission as you pushed him further into the chair. He fell back happily. 

“Up.” You took hold of the elastic waistband of his scrubs and taped his waist. 

He lifted his hips quickly, gazing at you in awe as you pulled them down to his knees. 

His cock sprang free, bobbing against his stomach. Blue seemingly wasn’t a man for underwear. 

He was long and thick, weeping from need. The urge to lean down and run your tongue along the length of him, to trace the large vein that ran up his shaft and taste the precome pooling at his tip was almost overwhelming. 

Blue stayed still, his heart echoing in his cock, making it jump with every beat. He watched you, his hands balled tense against the arm rests as he let you admire him. 

You breathed in deeply and he swallowed, an audible click. 

“Such a pretty cock,” you whispered and Blue moaned needily. 

You quickly put your left knee on the chair, just outside of his thigh, and kept your right foot on the ground as you took his length in your hand and slowly guided it inside of yourself. 

Blue let out a long cry of pleasure as you languidly sank down on him. His thighs shook with microtremors as he tensed them, forcing himself to stay still and not buck up into your sweet heat. 

You took your time, half teasing him and half out of necessity. Despite your previous orgasm and your abundant wetness, it had been a while since you’d been this intimate with anyone. 

The stretch was significant, but delicious. 

Finally, your hips met his as he filled you completely, a sigh escaping both of your lips. Instively Blue put his hands on your waist, his touch was light, careful. Just hovering over your skin. 

Experimentally you rocked against him, clenching down when the tip of him brushed wonderfully deep.

He threw his head forwards and moaned deeply, his hands tightening. 

“That’s it,” you teased and Blue bit back a sob of pleasure as you repeated the movement. 

You took hold of the back of the chair with one hand for better leverage, the leather groaning under the force of your grip and rocked back and forth again. This time just raising your hips ever so slightly before dropping them back down the length of him. 

Blue moaned, “honey,” rolling his head back to rest against the chair and trying to open his eyes, not wanting to miss a single second. 

Your walls clenched against him at the pet name, a fresh wave of wetness leaking down his cock and dripping between his balls. 

“Honey, please,” he pleaded. 

Never in your life did you ever think you’d hear Blue Jones beg. 

“Please, please, feels so good,” he bit his lip. 

“Yeah?” You quickened your pase, lifting yourself off him slightly higher than before. 

“Yes, yes, you’re so wet honey, and, oh fuck!” He sobbed

“And what Blue?” 

“Everytime I say honey you, god, you grip me so tight… like a fucking vice honey, ah!” His hips bucked upwards, moving of their own volition.

“Better keep calling me honey then.” You bit back a moan and started to move faster, bouncing on his cock and sobbing as he kept hitting so wonderfully deep. Pleasure began to build along your nerves, no longer allowing you to go slow and teasingly.

You began to chase the sensation desperately, needing to cum again. 

“Honey, yes, yes, oh god yes, that’s it, please!” He was so close, building to that perfect crescendo. He took his right hand from your hip and began to rub your clit with his thumb, needing to see you cum once more. 

“Blue!” You whine, your thrusts getting sloppy. 

“Yes, yes, honey,” he rubbed your clit faster, grabbing your hip tighter with his left and and planting his feet firmly on the floor so he could fuck you properally. “Just a little more, just a little bit more.” 

You cried out as you came so hard you nearly blacked out. 

Blue groaned, grunting as your walls squeezed him as he bucked into you. He held you tightly, working you through your orgasm and burying his face into your chest, littering you with kisses as he rutted into you like an animal in heat. 

He came with a loud moan, your nipple in his mouth, as he pumped you full of his hot, thick cum. 

Your breathing started to slow, sweat cooling on your skin. 

You expected Blue to push you off him now that he’d finished, or maybe take hold of your throat. 

Instead he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he snuggled into your chest. 

“You’re so perfect honey, yo-ohshit!” He moaned as your walls fluttered again at the pet name, sending a last shiver of pleasure along his nerves. You body seemingly instant on getting him to spill every last drop inside you. 

You move back, thinking you’d hurt him. But he continues to hug you close. 

“It’s okay, you just,” he chuckles softly against your chest. “Still squeezing me when I call you… that.”

You bite your lip, running your left hand through his hair. “What?” You tease, a small smile on your face.

He looks up at you, all doe eyes. “Honey.”

You clench around him, having seemingly no say in the matter. Blue bites his lip, ready for it this time and revels in the sensation. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers. 

The question would have been almost funny, considering what you’d just done together, but the soft, needy look he gives you makes it anything but. 

Your heart melts and you nod as you lean down and kiss him. 

His lips are gentle this time, sanguine and slow as he cups your cheek with his right hand. 

He’s the one that collects your clothes and helps you dress, placing kisses on every inch of your skin before he covers it up again. 

You don’t say another word to each other, but he kisses you knuckles, your palms and then lips before you go. 

You tell the others about what happened up to a point. The fictional you stayed hidden under Blue’s desk until he left, stayed undiscovered. You say you didn’t find anything helpful in his office. 

The next morning Lilly is in the cafeteria. She had been held in the upper levels, apparently there was another solitary there. Darker and colder. As she regails you all with her story you catch Blue’s eyes across the room. 

Neither of you do anything save stare, but it’s like a silent conversation flows through you both. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[tumbleversed]

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7. High-Quality Content

Tip: Provide valuable and relevant content for your audience.

Why it matters: Quality content keeps users engaged and encourages them to return to your site.

8. SEO-Friendly Design

Tip: Incorporate SEO best practices, such as using keywords effectively and optimizing meta tags.

Why it matters: SEO helps your website rank higher in search engine results, driving more traffic to your site.

9. Accessible Design

Tip: Ensure your website is accessible to users with disabilities by following accessibility guidelines.

Why it matters: An accessible website reaches a broader audience and improves the user experience for everyone.

10. User Testing

Tip: Regularly test your website with real users to identify and fix usability issues.

Why it matters: User testing helps you understand how real users interact with your site and what improvements are needed.

By following these essential website design tips, you'll be well on your way to creating user-friendly sites that are both attractive and functional. If you’re studying at a Web Designing Coaching Institute in Yamuna Vihar or a Web Designing Training Institute in Uttam Nagar, these tips will be particularly useful as you develop your skills in web design. Additionally, incorporating SEO strategies and performing keyword research, as explained in many SEM Strategies guides, will further enhance your site's visibility and effectiveness. Remember, continuous learning and practice are key to becoming a proficient web designer

[devoqdesign]

UI/UX Design Hacks for Unbeatable Landing Page Design Services

In today's digital landscape, your website's landing page is often the first impression potential customers will have of your brand. A well-designed landing page can be the difference between a visitor bouncing off your site or becoming a loyal customer. That's why investing in top-notch UI/UX design for your landing pages is crucial. In this blog post, we'll explore some UI/UX design hacks that can help you create unbeatable landing page design services.

1. Prioritize Clear and Concise Messaging

The first thing visitors should see on your landing page is a clear and concise message that communicates the value proposition of your product or service. Use attention-grabbing headlines and subheadings that quickly convey what you offer and why it's valuable. Avoid jargon and technical terms that might confuse or overwhelm visitors.

2. Implement a Visually Appealing and Consistent Design

A visually appealing and consistent design is essential for creating a positive user experience. Use high-quality images, videos, and graphics that complement your brand's identity and messaging. Ensure that your color scheme, typography, and layout are consistent throughout the landing page and aligned with your overall brand guidelines.

3. Optimize for Mobile Devices

With an increasing number of people accessing the internet via mobile devices, it's crucial to ensure that your landing page is optimized for mobile viewing. Implement a responsive design that adapts to different screen sizes and resolutions, ensuring a seamless user experience across devices.

4. Leverage Persuasive Call-to-Action (CTA) Buttons

Your landing page's primary goal is to encourage visitors to take a specific action, such as making a purchase, signing up for a newsletter, or scheduling a consultation. Leverage persuasive call-to-action (CTA) buttons that stand out and guide visitors towards the desired action. Use contrasting colors, clear and actionable language, and strategic placement to make your CTAs hard to miss.

5. Incorporate Social Proof

Social proof is a powerful psychological principle that can influence visitor behavior. Incorporate elements of social proof on your landing page, such as customer testimonials, ratings, and reviews, to build trust and credibility with potential customers. Showcase logos of reputable clients or partners to further reinforce your brand's legitimacy.

6. Optimize for Search Engines

While UI/UX design is crucial for creating a great user experience, it's equally important to ensure that your landing page is optimized for search engines. Conduct keyword research and incorporate relevant keywords throughout your landing page content, meta descriptions, and image alt tags. This will improve your page's visibility in search engine results and drive more targeted traffic to your site.

7. Implement A/B Testing

A/B testing is a powerful technique that allows you to test different variations of your landing page design and content to determine which combination performs best. By analyzing user behavior and conversion rates, you can continuously refine and optimize your landing page for maximum impact.

8. Incorporate Interactive Elements

Interactive elements can enhance the user experience and increase engagement on your landing page. Consider implementing interactive elements such as hover effects, animated graphics, or interactive calculators that demonstrate the value of your product or service in a tangible way.

9. Simplify Navigation and Reduce Distractions

Your landing page should have a clear and focused objective, whether it's capturing leads, making sales, or promoting a specific offer. Simplify navigation by removing unnecessary links or menus that could distract visitors from the primary goal. Reduce clutter and visual noise by prioritizing the most important elements and removing any superfluous content or design elements.

10. Continuously Monitor and Optimize

UI/UX design is an ongoing process, and it's essential to continuously monitor and optimize your landing page's performance. Analyze user behavior data, such as bounce rates, conversion rates, and heat maps, to identify areas for improvement. Regularly update your landing page with fresh content, new features, and design tweaks to ensure it remains relevant and effective.

Conclusion

Creating an unbeatable landing page is all about combining great UI with an excellent UX. By implementing the hacks and tips shared in this article, you can significantly improve your landing page design services. Remember, continuous testing and optimization are key to staying ahead of the competition.

My Fiver link for :  Figma Landing Page Design Service

[pixelmechanics-blog]

Navigating the World of Website Design in Singapore

Mobile Responsiveness

With the majority of internet users accessing websites via mobile devices, it's essential that your website is mobile responsive. This means that the design and layout of your site should adapt seamlessly to various screen sizes, ensuring optimal user experience across smartphones, Website Design Singapore tablets, and desktops. Mobile responsiveness is not only important for user satisfaction but also affects search engine rankings, as Google prioritizes mobile-friendly websites in search results.

Clean and Intuitive Navigation

A well-organized and intuitive navigation menu is key to guiding visitors through your website effectively. Use clear and concise labels for navigation links, such as "Home," "About Us," "Services," and "Contact." Avoid cluttering the menu with too many options to prevent overwhelming users. Implementing breadcrumbs and a search function can further enhance navigation and help users find specific information quickly.

Visual Appeal and Branding

The visual design of your website should reflect your brand identity and resonate with your target audience. Choose a cohesive color scheme, typography, and imagery that aligns with your brand personality. Consistency in design elements such as logos, fonts, and color palettes across all pages creates a professional and memorable impression. Incorporate high-quality images and multimedia content to engage visitors and convey your brand message effectively.

User-Friendly Layout and Content

Simplify the layout of your website to prioritize usability and readability. Use whitespace strategically to create breathing room between elements and enhance content legibility. Break up text into digestible paragraphs and incorporate headings, subheadings, and bullet points to structure information logically. Optimize loading times by compressing images and minimizing unnecessary animations or plugins that may slow down your site.

SEO Best Practices

Implementing search engine optimization (SEO) best practices is essential for improving your website's visibility and ranking on search engines like Google. Use relevant keywords naturally throughout your content, meta tags, and image alt text to improve discoverability. Optimize page titles, Web Development Singapore meta descriptions, and URLs to make them descriptive and keyword-rich. Regularly update your website with fresh, valuable content to demonstrate relevance and authority in your industry.

User Engagement and Interaction

Encourage user engagement by incorporating interactive elements into your website design. Add contact forms, subscription forms, social media integration, and live chat features to facilitate communication with visitors. Include calls-to-action (CTAs) strategically to prompt users to take desired actions, such as requesting a quote, making a purchase, or signing up for newsletters.

Professional Web Design Services

For businesses and individuals seeking professional assistance with website design in Singapore, hiring a reputable web design agency or freelance designer can streamline the process and ensure optimal results. Look for designers with a proven track record of creating visually appealing, functional, and SEO-friendly websites tailored to your specific needs and objectives.

[webdevelopment-digitalmarketing]

Shopify Stores Design and Development: Best Practices and Pitfalls

Shopify has emerged as one of the leading platforms for e-commerce businesses, offering a user-friendly interface and powerful tools for online store creation. With its ease of use and customizable features, Shopify has enabled countless entrepreneurs to establish their online presence and reach a global audience.

Importance of Design and Development

Impact on User Experience

The design and development of a Shopify store play a crucial role in shaping the overall user experience. A well-designed store not only attracts visitors but also keeps them engaged and encourages them to explore further. On the other hand, a poorly designed store can lead to high bounce rates and lost sales opportunities.

Conversion Rate Optimization

In the competitive world of e-commerce, conversion rate optimization is essential for maximizing sales and revenue. An effectively designed and developed Shopify store can significantly impact conversion rates by enhancing trust, credibility, and ease of purchase for customers.

Best Practices for Shopify Store Design and Development

Mobile Responsiveness

In today's mobile-first world, ensuring that your Shopify store is fully responsive across all devices is paramount. Mobile responsiveness not only improves user experience but also boosts SEO rankings, as search engines prioritize mobile-friendly websites.

Clear Navigation

A clear and intuitive navigation structure is essential for guiding visitors through your Shopify store. Organize your products into logical categories and use descriptive labels to help users find what they're looking for quickly and easily.

High-Quality Visuals

Visual elements such as images and videos play a crucial role in capturing the attention of visitors and showcasing your products effectively. Invest in high-quality visuals that accurately represent your brand and products to create a positive first impression.

Streamlined Checkout Process

A lengthy or complicated checkout process can deter customers from completing their purchase. Keep the checkout process as streamlined and frictionless as possible, minimizing the number of steps required and offering guest checkout options for added convenience.

SEO Optimization

Optimizing your Shopify store for search engines is essential for driving organic traffic and increasing visibility online. Conduct keyword research, optimize product descriptions and meta tags, and regularly update your content to improve your store's search engine rankings.

Pitfalls to Avoid

Ignoring Mobile Optimization

Failing to prioritize mobile optimization can result in a poor user experience for a significant portion of your audience. Make sure your Shopify store is fully responsive and optimized for mobile devices to maximize engagement and conversions.

Complex Navigation

Confusing or cluttered navigation menus can frustrate visitors and make it difficult for them to find what they're looking for. Keep your navigation simple and intuitive, with clearly labeled categories and subcategories that make it easy for users to navigate your store.

Poor Visuals and Branding

Low-quality images and inconsistent branding can undermine the credibility of your Shopify store and deter potential customers. Invest in professional photography and design to create a visually appealing and cohesive brand identity that resonates with your target audience.

Complicated Checkout Process

A lengthy or complicated checkout process can lead to cart abandonment and lost sales. Streamline your checkout process as much as possible, removing unnecessary steps and offering guest checkout options to simplify the buying process for customers.

Lack of SEO Strategy

Neglecting to optimize your Shopify store for search engines can limit its visibility and hinder organic traffic growth. Develop a comprehensive SEO strategy that includes keyword research, on-page optimization, and regular content updates to improve your store's search engine rankings and drive more organic traffic.

Conclusion

Effective design and development are essential for creating a successful Shopify store that attracts visitors, engages customers, and drives conversions. By following best practices and avoiding common pitfalls, you can optimize your store for success and achieve your e-commerce goals.

FAQs

1. How important is mobile optimization for Shopify stores?

Mobile optimization is crucial for Shopify stores, as an increasing number of users access the internet and make purchases through their mobile devices. Failing to prioritize mobile responsiveness can result in lost sales opportunities and poor user experience.

2. What are some common pitfalls to avoid in Shopify store design?

Some common pitfalls to avoid include ignoring mobile optimization, having complex navigation menus, using poor-quality visuals and branding, complicating the checkout process, and neglecting SEO optimization.

3. How can I improve the SEO of my Shopify store?

To improve the SEO of your Shopify store, focus on keyword research, optimize product descriptions and meta tags, regularly update your content, improve site speed, and build high-quality backlinks.

4. Why is user experience important for Shopify stores?

User experience is important for Shopify stores because it directly impacts engagement, conversion rates, and customer satisfaction. A positive user experience encourages visitors to explore your store, make purchases, and become repeat customers.

5. How can I streamline the checkout process in my Shopify store? To streamline the checkout process, simplify the number of steps required, offer guest checkout options, provide clear instructions, minimize form fields, and offer multiple payment options to cater to different preferences.

[digital-03]

SEO-TOP 10 DIGITAL MARKETING INSTITUTES IN BANGALORE

Search engine optimization simply means the process of improving the quality of website and search engines. It is also an internet marketing strategy which considers attributes such as the working of search engines, computer based algorithms which monitors search engine behaviours, what people search for and the actual search terms or keywords and which search engines are preferred by target audience. Search engine optimisation is very essential because it attracts and receives more visitors from a search engine when websites rank higher on the search engine results page. The visitors further become customers thereby being a source of digital marketing.

The few ways to improve search engine optimisation include these—

Creation of organised and optimised URL’s— Uniform Resource Locator, abbreviated as URL must be created in an organised and clean manner, following the prototype methodology. It mainly consists of protocol, subdomain, domain, top level domain and slug folder in that exact order. The URL should contain appealing names for the domains and must avoid the usage of stop words, special characters, symbols, hyphens, and numbers. There must be inclusion of the target keyword in the URL of the said website. Also avoid unnecessary and lengthy words and keep it short.

Content Structure: Content structure is something which plays an important role in attracting visitors to the website. Structure and content go hand in hand. The website must have a definitive layout which helps in structuring the information the website carries. The creator must design the website in such a way that it looks clutter free and the fonts to be clear. The images that may be included must be placed on the layout and references to be given so the result is easily understandable. The internal links, categories and tags must be placed in an orderly manner so the viewer is benefited.

Load speed: Any visitor to a website is not impressed with a time consuming load speed in order to view the web page. Hence, it is essential to work towards effectively accessing the website. The designer must investigate details such as, the images and inner links load time, the amount of internet needed to access the webpage and study it. Keep a consistent check on the time with web vitals and including boosters which can help the consumer to not switch websites. Trial and error numerous times and by implementing the required changes, the search engine can be top rated, thereby easily accessible.

Social media Marketing: In today’s times, it is a necessity to market any brand, product, or service on social media to boost the usage and sales. In the same way, the website designed must be marketed on social sites such as Instagram or YouTube as it is having a broad spectrum of reachable consumers and thereby boosting the usage of the website. Therefore, social media posting must be encouraged. With higher views and shares on social media, and many more people accessing it daily, the website will be ranked first, concluding in easy marketing of the same.

Revision of content: The content initially created must be revised and reread as per a certain time period. This is very important as the rotation of new content keeps  updating and the customers interest is peaked. As per daily happenings and new trends created in the market, the trends must also be up to mark. The visitors, then gradually become consumers ad they keep checking the new content. Recent trends consist of most people expecting good content and elaborate layout and authenticity. Hence, the ratings of the website raise to result in the optimisation of the search engine.

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter four // three days on drunken sin

summary: bucky decides to rifle through those boxes and finds the will to make the first move.

warnings: food/eating, nothing too bad this time!

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: how are we feeling about this week’s episode?? we’re getting closer to the start of tfatws with this chapter!! hope i don’t break your heart too much with the boxes :)

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

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The boxes taunted him for three days.

Three stacks of two boxes each cluttered his entranceway, each with that familiar scrawl of Steve’s God-awful handwriting.

‘BUCKY’

All caps, in black Sharpie, underlined three times just for good measure. Steve was always good at getting his message across.

He didn’t want to know what was in them, he told himself. But Steve was gone, and this was all he had left. These, that stupid notebook he still hadn’t found the will to write in, and the shield that was kicking around Sam’s apartment somewhere.

He wanted to toss them in his building’s dumpster, to push these aside like he did with everything else in his life. Out of sight, out of mind. That week, he didn’t tell his therapist about the boxes, or Sam’s unexpected visit, or his neighbor that he was now avoiding like the plague. Thankfully, she chalked his silence up to Steve and tried to fill in the conversational lulls with suggestions of amends and lists and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

Like always, sleep never came.

He knew the single night in his bed was a fluke, but he kept trying at least. He’d untuck his flat sheet from under hit mattress, fluff his pillow, and tuck himself in. Within five minutes, he was back on the hardwood floor of his living room, the lamplights illuminating his window and casting a perfect shadow on those stupid boxes. Finally, on the third night, he huffed a sigh and sat up, his arm whirring at the sudden movement. He wasn’t accomplishing anything letting them sit and gather dust.

Bucky reached under the cushions of his couch, fishing for the knife he had stashed away and got to work slicing through the clear packing tape securing each one.

The first five boxes were files. Mission reports, everything Steve could get his hands on about The Winter Soldier. The translations were rough, the descriptions weren’t as vivid as he remembered them now, and it wasn’t even close to everything. Why Steve kept them when Bucky was working to erase every trace of this from the universe, he would never understand. Steve was sentimental, even with the bad stuff. Bucky glanced over the files scattered across his entranceway, which maybe amounted to a year of his missions. If Zemo had looked in some suburb in upstate New York, he would have found everything he needed.

The dumpster behind his building was starting to feel more and more enticing.

The last box felt different. Significantly lighter and smaller, the items rolling and clanking as he dragged it towards him. He braced himself for more files, more reminders of what he had done as though they didn’t exist in his mind every second of the day.

The first thing he recognized was his mother’s handwriting. ‘Recipes’, scrawled so perfectly on a yellowing label.

The tin box was tinted with age, dented after so many years. He laughed and could remember it tucked away on the top shelf of the cabinet by the fridge, just out of Rebecca’s reach, even when she’d stand on her tiptoes in search of it. His Ma rarely fished it out, other than to let his little sister read over the ingredients with sticky hands as she helped stir pots and peel potatoes. She had them memorized by the time she was a teenager, having transcribed her own mother’s recipes onto these little cards. He was sure Rebecca did, too.

Next was the worn fabric of his Ma’s favorite apron. Yellow embroidered flowers scattered the crimped edge, strings falling loose. He recognized some of the stains, from spaghetti night and cake batter that she let dry on the cloth for too long.

Finally, a worn silver chain was buried at the bottom of the box.

JAMES B BARNES 32557038 T42 A

Of course, Steve with all his connections and know-it-all attitude and ‘I can do this all day’ would find some way to find his dog tags, probably tucked away in some ancient Hydra file. His flesh fingers ran over the indentation of his name, pressed into metal like millions of other boys had, off to fight a war that had nothing to do with them. Everything to lose, nothing to gain.

When he was most alone, settled into muddy trenches with wet socks and a stiff military jacket, he would recite those numbers out into the night sky. He’d map constellations over his head, wondering if it would be his last night and all there would be left of him would be those stupid discs of metal clanking around his neck and the letter tucked away in his jacket breast pocket, addressed to his mother.

His mother was long gone, he knew that. But to a fully conscious James Buchanan Barnes – not the Winter Soldier - he had only seen her a few years ago when he shipped off.

After a moment, he pulled the chain of his dog tags over his head, settling them under his shirt. His ears rung with the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The sound of dragging feet and the jangle of your keychain signaled your return from class.

His family was gone, Steve included. The only people he has left are halfway across the world, or off on some death-defying mission wearing metal bird wings. Except you, who still leaves bags of cookies on his front door mat, despite the silent treatment from his end. His maybe too friendly neighbor who poured over lists of albums for him to find taped to his door in barely legible handwriting when you should have been studying.

His mother’s recipe box was calling his name.

-

The knock on your door startled you from your nap. Well, if you can call dozing off at your desk using a law book as a makeshift pillow a nap. You stalled in your desk chair, eyes bleary as you squinted at your front door, then at the top corner of your computer.

2:36 AM

You nuzzled back into your book, content to chalk it up to your sleep deprived brain making things up.

The second knock was much more insistent and was certainly coming from your door. You rushed out of your chair, sock-clad feet dragging the blanket draped across your shoulders as you shuffled over, the knocking never ceasing. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, peering out your peephole into the dark hallway.

Bucky, with slumped shoulders and a bowed head, trying with all of his might to make himself as small as possible still took up so much of the doorway with his broad shoulders.

You should be mad at him.

You should go to bed, ignore him like he’d been ignoring you for the past few weeks. Like you hadn’t shared late nights and he hadn’t sat in your kitchen, licking your spoons clean or tucked into your couch just to watch you study, a new record playing gently. Your forehead pressed to the door, vile building in your throat as seething words collected on your tongue.

“I know you’re there.” His voice was muffled through the wooden door, feeling so close but sounding so far away. “We should work on you dragging your feet, doll.”

If you had taken another peek, you would have seen him pressing his forehead to the other side.

“You ignored me, Bucky.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, even through the door. “Some family stuff came up. But it’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

It’s so stupid, letting yourself get so attached to the first guy to bat his eyelashes and read to you. It’s idiotic to want him to seep into your days and nights, to never leave like he had left you, after only knowing each other for a month.

It’s so foolish to open the door. But you do it anyways.

He swallows as he stands straight, and the widening of his eyes tells you that he wasn’t expecting you to give him a second chance.

“I, uh, here. Thought I’d finally return the favor.”” Bucky shoves forward a plate of cookies, misshapen and unevenly cooked. His eyes finally found yours. “My mom’s recipe.”

Family stuff, you remembered. The weight of the plate felt heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as his gaze on you as you lifted one of the lesser burnt cookies to your mouth and took a timid bite.

Bucky, you’ve come to learn, gives his love in silent acts of approval. He shines when you tell him his singing isn’t totally awful or that he makes a great sous chef, eyes crinkling when you approve of his music choice for the night or compliment the voices he picks when reading from his books. As he watched you, you felt that this cookie meant more to him then just flour and eggs.

He was reaching out, terrified of your rejection.

���You made these?”

“Alright, I’m not totally helpless.”

“They’re amazing, Bucky. Your mom should be proud.”

He returned your smile, knowing that she wouldn’t be. How could she, after all that his hands have done? Hands that should’ve been home, hoisting his sisters onto his shoulders. Hands that should have been helping set the table and at work so they had something to eat in the first place.

He looked so timid in your hallway, unsure of the next move. You rolled your eyes, moving to clear your doorway, despite his hesitation.

“Come on.” You spoke, like ushering in a stray cat with the promise of food and love.

He took the first step forward, shoulder to shoulder, head tilted down to catch your playful gaze with his serious one. Your mouth opened to make some sort of quip to ease the tension, but the words died in your throat as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a second.

His eyes closed as he drew in a single serene breath through his nose.

He was gone as quickly as he had come, moving further into your apartment and directly to your shelves of records, gloved fingers grazing over the sleeves in contemplation for his first choice of the night. As you finally collected yourself enough to close the door, you wondered how many people in the world had ever loved Bucky Barnes enough to give him a second chance.

taglist: @tisthedamninez @wcndamaxcmoff @freyagallileaevans @bibliophilewednesday @justtoreblogfics @teti-menchon0604 @l-adysansa @heart-eyes-horan @thiswasnevermylifefromtony @rexorangecouny @dilfvision @urafakebetch @comphersjost @am-tired-bois @spid3rgwen @beautyandthebleh @euphoricaaaa @inadquacy @mackycat11 @withyoutilltheendofthismess @motherofallthesmallthings @victoriabaker112213 @macrillez @stvalentiness @nova10711 @tailsoflightning @okiegirl24 @qhbr2013 @beachbabe925 @weenersoldierr @venusinart @marvel-mistress @orthellqs @phasma-trash @beni-angie @infinitely-yellow @riverlethe1

[goldenraeofsun]

would you have me, would you want me?

Part I

Castiel wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks. 

He tugs at the tie strangling him, and runs a hand through his hair. He grimaces. So much for all the preparation he put into his appearance in front of the mirror twenty minutes ago.

He inhales a deep breath and steps inside his high school for the first time in ten years.

The fluorescent lighting doesn’t do the old halls any favors, and the entryway, at least, smells violently of lemon-scented cleaner. There have been a few pathetic attempts at livening up the stubbornly beige walls - colorful signs mark the way to the gym, like Castiel would ever forget even after ten years.

It’s strange to see the place so empty.

“Hello!” Becky, their alumni representative, waves him over to a table just inside the entryway. It’s completely cluttered with bits of paper and blank name tags. “Are you here for the reunion?”

Castiel coughs. “Yes.”

“So glad to have you here,” Becky says as Castiel drags his feet closer. “Name?”

“Castiel Novak?”

“Oh!” Becky says, her eyes widening. “I hardly recognized you without the books, and the coat, and the...” she gestures vaguely to her own face, which Castiel takes to mean the semi-permanent scowl he wore all throughout high school. Before Castiel can react, she ducks her head and drags her finger down a clipboard. “Alright, Castiel, I’ll mark you down as present. Fill out a name tag if you want, and here are your tickets for your two drinks. Would you like to enter the fundraising raffle? We’re hoping to send the volleyball team to nationals this year.”

Castiel quails under Becky’s doe eyes and forks over ten dollars for the raffle. He also writes out a name tag, since his classmates might have the same reaction as Becky.

Armed with his name tag and drinks tickets, he follows the signs to the gym.

* * *

Cas wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He doesn’t go to parties. He is not a partier. The closest he’s ever come to one was after his brother’s graduation, but that was eleven years ago. Cas was seven.

Cas successfully avoided all high school parties for the past three and a half years, but apparently nothing lasts forever.

Biting his lip, he presses down hard on Tessa’s doorbell. 

The door opens, and Cas barely has enough time to school his face into a less terrified expression before Tessa appears. “You’re not the pizza man,” she says, frowning.

Cas blinks at her. “I... sorry?” He offers the wine Uncle Marv gifted his parents, the one Cas’s mother promised never to drink in a million years.

Tessa’s face brightens as she takes it from him. “Who invited you?”

“Dean - Dean Winchester,” Cas says, like there could be any other Dean that mattered at Edlund High.

Tessa opens the door wider, calling over her shoulder, “Dean!”

Cas steps inside without waiting for Dean to rescue him. Dean is probably too occupied to see him inside - or so Cas assumes. He’s never been to a party like this before, but even the senior year loner hears about the types of things Dean gets up to at events like these. 

Cas follows Tessa past a flight of roped-off stairs further into the house. The noise and the people hit him full force in a dimly lit living room. Music blasts from speakers connected to a massive entertainment center. The whole area is jam-packed with teenagers and smells strongly of beer and hormones. Cas scans the crowd, recognizing more faces than not, to his relief. 

“Kitchen’s that way,” Tessa says loudly, pointing to a door, bright light spilling from beyond. “If you want to get a drink, be my guest.” She shoulders past a group of girls from Cas’s homeroom and disappears from sight.

Cas heads for the kitchen. Maybe he can clear his head there and come up with a plan. Or maybe he can get drunk enough not to care about all the bad decisions that led him here.

* * *

Castiel turns at the sound of his name.

He spins around in place, searching the faces in the gym for one he recognizes.

“Cas, you made it!”

Castiel stumbles as Charlie’s arms wrap around him. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she says as she steps away, a broad grin stretching across her face.

“I live in the next school district over. I’m sure people traveled farther than that.”

“Yeah, but,” Charlie says awkwardly, “I know high school wasn’t the best time for you.”

Castiel’s mouth twitches. “Only the last few months of senior year. The rest went well enough.” He scans the gym before meeting Charlie’s knowing gaze. 

Charlie winks at him. It’s not like she couldn’t put the pieces together herself. Most of their points of conversation revolve around a shared high school experience, so naturally Dean comes up once or twice (or a dozen times) during their sporadic get togethers.

It was even nice, sometimes, since Charlie is the only person from his teenage years he sees anymore. 

“I know what you’re talking about,” Charlie says with a shudder. “I got bangs for senior year. Bangs.”

Castiel smiles weakly. “You could have made worse decisions.”

"If we’re going to talk about how dumb we were as teenagers, then I’m going to need another drink,” Charlie says as they make their way to the makeshift bar. “Don’t worry,” she says in an undertone, “He’s not here yet.”

“He’s coming?”

Charlie throws him a look. “Dude, he’s the newest hire in the English department. There’s no way he got out of attending his own reunion.”

Castiel absentmindedly nods along as he looks around. There’s a slideshow projecting onto a far wall, showing candid shots from ten years ago. About fifty people mill around the gym, chatting in little groups, nobody Castiel recognizes. More than a few people huddle over their own on their phones, ignoring everyone else.

He asks, “Is this typically what happens at these things?”

“How should I know?” Charlie says as they get in line. “This is my first reunion too.”

Castiel turns to her. “You didn’t go to our five year?”

Charlie wrinkles her nose. “I was kind of in hot water for hacking into NORAD so I laid low in Norway until everything died down.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Why would a tech consultant for Roman Enterprises hack into NORAD?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Charlie shoots back.

Castiel has no retort prepared, so he steps up to trade his ticket for a glass of cheap wine. “How is Dorothy doing?”

“She’s good. Away at a meteorology conference, but those’re the hazards of dating a nerd.” Charlie exhales a long-suffering sigh, watching with mild interest as the bartender pours out Castiel’s glass.

Castiel snorts. “I wouldn’t know.”

Charlie elbows him playfully in the side. “’Course you don’t. You always liked them dumber, didn’t you?”

“Dean wasn’t dumb.”

Charlie cackles as she hands over her own ticket to the bartender. “I didn’t say anyone’s name.”

* * *

Cas turns at the sound of his name. 

“Dean?” he answers.

Tessa’s kitchen is only slightly quieter than the living room, but not much. There are fewer people here, though, which leaves Cas some breathing room. 

Dean strides up to him, a red cup of something in his hand and a grin on his face. Party-goer Dean doesn’t look any different than Student Dean, clad in worn jeans and his favorite Led Zeppelin short sleeved shirt. “Hey, man. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Of course,” Cas says, clutching his own drink tightly. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, his gaze skittering away, “this isn’t your usual scene, though.”

“I can try new things.” Cas takes a sip of his punch and makes a face at the overwhelmingly sweet taste. “It is our senior year, so I thought it might be time.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean says with a laugh, “as long as it got you out of the library.”

Cas’s frown deepens. “What’s wrong with the library?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, eyes widening. He raises his free hand, palm out, in a gesture of no-harm. “It’s just not the sort of place you’d go for a good time, you know what I mean?”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “I’ve had plenty of good times in the library.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Not the kind I was talking about, Cas.”

Cas hasn’t ever gotten blown in the book stacks of the library like some pornography had indicated was possible, but he won’t call his time spent there a total waste. He says, “If it hadn’t been for our enjoyable tutoring sessions in the library, I wouldn’t be here.”

Dean beams at him. “Yeah, I’m kind of sorry they’re over, but I guess our grades don’t matter any more.”

“What?” Cas blinks at him. “Our grades matter.”

“Dude, it’s April.”

“Colleges can still rescind acceptance letters.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on, you nerd,” he grabs Cas by the hand. “We can’t block the line to the booze or Tessa'll murder me.”

Cas lets himself get led back out into the living room, a bemused expression on his face. The music and the chatter of a dozen different conversations hit him like a palpable slap to the face.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks loudly, as he throws back the rest of his cup of punch. It is much more tolerable in larger, quicker doses.

Dean glances around before leaning closer so Cas could hear him. “Whatever you want.”

Cas shivers as Dean’s breath ghosts over his ear and down his neck.

“We got the dancers, the stoners, the wallflowers,” Dean points each out, “the horndogs...”

Cas tears his gaze away from Charlie and Gilda, entwined on the couch. “Where do you fall?”

“Me?” Dean asks, surprised. He holds up his drink, a smile playing around his lips. “It’s a little early to tell. This is only my third one. Speaking of,” he takes Cas’s drink and drains it, “We should get you another one. You’re barely caught up to me.”

Cas dumbly takes his cup back. If he refills this cup, his lips might touch the same surface Dean’s had. The ghost of a kiss.

It was a technique old Hollywood films used to indicate romantic attraction, since kissing on-screen was heavily restricted. Characters would share cigarettes, food, and drinks instead of touching, especially if the relationship was taboo and wouldn’t pass the censors.

Cas stares up at Dean, uncomprehending.

“Come on, man,” Dean says as he nudges Cas back towards the kitchen. “Before all the good booze is gone.”

* * *

Castiel chokes on his drink.

Charlie gives him a few hard whacks on the back, giggling under her breath. “I know Dean’s hot and all, but that doesn’t mean you have to do a spit take when you see him.”

“I was surprised,” Castiel says defensively as he desperately tries to regain his composure.

“Uh huh.” Charlie smirks, eyebrows waggling. “Want me to call him over? I don’t think he’s spotted us yet.”

Castiel swallows down the rising tide of panic in the back of his throat. For God’s sake, he’s nearly thirty years old. He can’t go to pieces over Dean Winchester, not again. 

It’s just been a while. He hasn’t had a boyfriend in several years. All his friends, Charlie included, are taken or aromantic, and lately Castiel’s been feeling like the odd bachelor out.

Dean probably isn’t all Castiel has been building up in his head. It’s been ten years, after all. Dean must have changed.

Castiel certainly has. He’s no longer the loner who filled his life with facts and grades instead of friends. Well, he still has school, but at least this time around he’s the one grading tests instead of being graded.

But it’s Dean. The one who got away - or ran away, in Dean’s case.

Charlie waves and calls Dean’s name, and, before Castiel can wrap his head around what’s happening, Dean is in front of them, in all his glory. Ten years older, but no less handsome. He still has those barely-there freckles splattered across his cheeks.

“So how’ve you been?” Dean asks Charlie.

“Can’t complain.” Charlie shakes her head. “I got a new haircut.”

“The bob suits you, Red,” Dean says, grinning as he reaches out to ruffle it.

Charlie dodges, one finger in his face in warning. “You touch it and you die, Handmaiden. It doesn’t look this natural naturally.”

“Fair,” Dean says, hands in the air.

Castiel watches them both, a sinking feeling in his gut. He’s been here before, watching from the sidelines as Dean joked and teased his friends. In the same room but also miles away.

He shouldn’t have expected any different.

Ten years, and nothing has changed.

But then Charlie punches Dean in the arm, throwing a significant look at Castiel, and Castiel’s mood sinks lower. He doesn’t need Charlie to make Dean pay attention to him; that wasn’t the point of coming here tonight.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel clears his throat. “Hello, Dean.”

Onto Part II

[rawrroarart]

Diakko!Odyssey AU

Most recent update: 8/28/2020 I added the comic of them meeting and also wrote a little snippet under the Diakko section

Welcome all. This post will officially be my master post of the Odyssey AU which will be updated as time moves forward so that I can link all of my related art to it. Yes I will not be posting multiple separate Updates in text posts how it’s traditionally done, but instead there will be information with each art and then a link back to this post. This is to avoid clutter since I hardly post on this blog anyway so it wouldn’t be fun having to scroll through all of my “OH ALSO THIS HAPPENS!” to get to art. Also I keep changing my mind on a lot of things in the AU so disregard information under the arts anyway as I will be posting here what is actually relevant.

Another key thing: I will be avoiding spoilers as much as possible until they are either shown in art or stated explicitly like I do in posts because I am the absolute worst at surprises. But anyway fear not for spoilers. Things said here are things that should be hinted at/known already. (and also I hardly know anything but maybe I will in due time)

Without further ado..

Introduction

What is the Odyssey AU?

The odyssey au is an alternative universe combining both Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Little Witch Academia into this (very random) adventuring story that takes place in ancient Greece. I guess I can’t say that it’s random since one of my favorite things about both ACO and LWA is the ties/references to mythology with the former obviously more rooted in the mythology and the latter just fun easter egg references. 

The general premise is that Diana is a misthios(mercenary) who travels with Akko, a shapeshifter, across Greece to find the answers pertaining to her origin.

The first art post: Diana and Akkoros

While living her life as a misthios, Diana searches for the answers pertaining to her origin and superhuman (described as “magical”) abilities along with Shapeshifter Atsuko, who commonly uses her powers for flight, but is not shy to switch to animals more suited for combat.

But I don’t know what Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey is?

That’s fair and understandable. Honestly my AU diverges a lot from the game so I don’t think knowledge of ACO is exactly necessary it’s just fun to understand the connections if you know them. Basically the key things you need to know from ACO as of now is: 

Kassandra (the protag) is known as the Eagle Bearer because she has an eagle that is known as the “eagle of Zeus” throughout the game. And they adventure together and Ikaros (the eagle) can hunt n kill things and See things and tbh he’s rly just a cool eagle but not a shapeshifter or anything lol

Kassandra is a Mercenary (misthios) which is basically a for Hire fighter/person who will p much do anything for money (if they want to do it) 

Kassandra is usually referred to a demi-god because of her powerful fighting abilities in which I mean yea she literally has powers and can blast people like a billion miles away (im jk but-)

Kassandra can tame animals (which ones depending on your skill level). You can tame uhh wolves, lynx, leopards, lions, bears. This is where my ‘shapeshifter’ idea began and it pretty much fit perfectly since Akko’s favorite spell is the shapeshifting one. 

Other than this, the most important things to know for this AU is just,, general mythology,, I guess? Or history? General history of mythology and how people worshipped/acted in accordance to the gods. And I’m not saying im going to be historically accurate obviously, nor even mythologically accurate (if that’s even a thing lol), I’m just here to have a good time and enjoy my gay mercenaries while talking about gods/goddesses as if I even know (thankfully I have my gf who is way more interested in mythology than me to help me)

I’ve only played like half of the Atlantis DLC after beating the game so whoopsie. I honestly really wanna replay everything now that I have this AU just so I can focus more on details and what I can yoink.

Characters

Diana

Art: 

Diana’s sketch-dump though she really needs a new one.

Diana in wheat field

Diana is the main protagonist of the story, but they pretty much both share the spotlight anyway. Her goal is to find out why she has certain powers (which I have officially decided, finally...) that aren’t exactly human. Since being a misthios was an easy way for her to travel and make drachmae, she chooses to do it while on their journey. Dammit I came up with her lore but as per the rules of this masterpost I can’t write about it until it’s out smh.. Ah I forgot that I already spilled that she is a goddess/demi-goddess (haven’t decided which yet) so yea that’s the Tea.

Described as very beautiful, there are rumors of her that state she is a pathway to Elysium (despite many people not deserving to go to Elysium). She is also known for her stoic face and a red bird that follows her around.

Diana is only found smiling with Akko and keeps buying Akko clothes despite her outer grievances each time Akko destroys something.

Diana was there with her mother at Chariot’s speech/performance.

Diana is skilled with any weapon.

Akko

Art:

Akko sketch-dump

Akko is a shapeshifter who travels with Diana across Greece in search for her idolized Chariot. Trusting both Diana’s skills and powers, Akko decides that Diana is the best choice to help achieve her goal as they adventure together.

Orphaned at a young age, Akko is, at first, very unfamiliar with how exactly to use her powers because there was no one around to teach her. She uses a bird most often because it is her first and most skilled transformation, but eventually learns to use stronger animals over time. Also eagle-vision is much more useful to Diana when they’re scoping the grounds anyway.

Like all shapeshifters, Akko has a symbol on her neck that signifies what she is. Due to the high prejudice against shapeshifters, Akko stays an animal to avoid being known, and also does not transform in front of others unless to kill them. If she has to be a human, Akko commonly wears a hood to hide her neck. 

Akko is one of the last shapeshifters to exist, and, despite Chariot being rumored to have finally been murdered, she still believes Chariot is alive. 

Akko was with her parents when they all attended Chariot’s final speech/show and here began her dream.

Akko can use a dagger if she needs to.

Side-characters

Akko’s Parents: Shapeshifters who were murdered when Akko was a young age.

Chariot: A shapeshifter who somehow had a voice and power that even normal people listened to. Akko idolizes Chariot because, despite the hate against shapeshifters, Chariot was well known and was an activist for shapeshifters despite the danger upon her head. Chariot mysteriously disappears one day for reasons unknown, and everyone but Akko assumes she was finally murdered.

Shapeshifters

Shapeshifters are defined as humans who possess the ability to transform to any animal at will. Unfortunately, because animals were seen as less than human, shapeshifters were defined as “punished by the gods” and so many decided shapeshifters needed to be removed from the world for sin. This causes a massacre of shapeshifters to the point that they are instead a rarity.

Shapeshifters do not transform with their clothes, and so either destroy them or lose them depending on their transformation.

All shapeshifters have a symbol on their neck which is what is used to find them. They can also be found by their human personalities/characteristics when they are an animal. 

If weakened, shapeshifters return to their human form and cannot transform until they are stronger.

Diakko

Art:

Meeting (Comes with a 500 word story!)

Misthios!Diana and Shapeshifter!Akko Sketch-dump

Diana and Bear!Akko

Fancy Diakko (the first continuity error lol)

Diana and Akko adventure together and do all of their quests together as a rag-tag chaotic duo. God I’m so excited for this section I wish I could make art FASTER but anyway:

They meet at about 17 years old but the main story takes place when they are 18+

The two get off to a wrong start when Diana saves Akko’s life. Because Akko is a shapeshifter, she’s high in value to kill probably by some cult idk but there is always a bounty on her head. When Diana saves her, Akko assumes Diana only did so to steal the drachmae from the original perpetrators, but Diana really just leaves her alone afterwards. Confused, Akko legit just starts tagging along LMAO she finds Diana interesting and so follows her and Diana’s just like what the fuck but eventually she gets over it. They become powerful assets to each other as Diana can now scope the skies with Akko and Akko is pretty much protected under Diana. Then when Akko gets much stronger Diana gets extra manpower and protection too. 

Akko enjoys staying in her human form to spend time with Diana.

Diana keeps buying Akko clothes just because it makes Akko happy (and also, despite Akko uncaring because her transformations are so frequent anyway, Diana doesn’t want her to be naked??)

Diana is easily persuaded by Akko and puts Akko’s interests first (feeds her first, considers what Akko would want, etc.)

[cyphertrip]

pairing: yoongixreader genre: multi-chapter romance word count: 3,330 warnings: increasing sexual themes as chapters go on, vague mentions of violence note: this is a reuploaded story from my original blog. I will continue to reupload the chapters every day or two to avoid flooding the tags. if you remember this story and would like others of mine reuploaded let me know.

... He won’t kiss you. You don’t know why it is. He so often teases you with the notion that you could cry for all the near misses. His mouth comes so close only to leave your own aching at his absence. He doesn’t kiss you anywhere, barely touches you. The suggestion of touch is always present, a ghost of fingers in your hair, a hand at your back when you traverse stairs. Yoongi reaches for you only to snatch his hand away at the very last second with carefully guarded consideration in his eyes. He has his reasons, reasons he’d share if you dared ask; reasons that would sound like the sonnets of a heart so wasted in love he’s too afraid to offer them on his own. But you never ask.

You think maybe it’s not to him what it is to you. It’s hard to determine your relationship when the basis is sparse words and looks so intent you can barely assess them without feeling your skin go hot, forcing you to look away from the intensity of it. He looks like its love, or at least a deep infatuation, and your own feelings are hardly secret. You have crooned his name so many times its familiar, a sigh from your lips in the morning, an exasperation at the almost kiss goodbye at night. The fact that you continue to show up on his doorstep should say everything he needs to know but he doesn’t seem to realize. He always looks so surprised to see you, as if one day he expects you’ll not. You can barely help yourself. In spite of the uncertainty your feet traverse the path to his place without you needing to consciously decide it’s your destination. It would be generous to call the space anything more than a room with an adjoining bathroom, it is cluttered and open, littered with papers that have his scrawl all over them and collections of sheet music strewn about the place. There’s an upright in the corner, a mattress on the floor, a rack of clothing and beaten up boots and sneakers thrown about. It is a physical manifestation of what you imagine his mind to look like. He keeps his mouth so very shut, his thoughts so very private that you imagine behind his quiet expression there’s an immense chaos begging to be sifted through. If you could you would pry him open like a book and read, over and over until you had every part of him memorized. As it is you’re the one who opens up. Somehow he knows so much about you and you seem to learn so little of him in return. It’s by his own design. His history is littered with stories he’s ashamed of, brutalities committed by and against him. He’s sure his stories would send you running and for that reason he feels he should tell you but he never does.Eventually he opens up with his hands, for once not sending you away through a gap in the door when he’s injured. There’s a blossoming of purple and blue across his cheekbone, blood on his knuckles. You’re not sure if it’s his or someone else’s. You clean him up, your fingers insensitively taking advantage of the opportunity to touch. You brush through his hair, cleaning cuts and placing bandages though your brows are knitted together in worry. He’s silent the whole time, his eyes following your face as the expressions shift, softening and hardening as your thoughts tick through exasperation and worry. When you ask how, why, Yoongi finally touches you. There are fingers under your jaw, a thumb on your chin as he tilts your head up, catches your gaze. “Let’s not talk about it.” His fingers brush against your jaw and you find yourself conceding to his request. Deep down you know he’s trouble but you feel it’s already too late. You care for him too much to turn back now. Everything you’ve heard about him is so hard to reconcile with the boy you know. He’s so gentle and patient with you that it’s impossible to imagine him capable of laying a violent hand, though you know he is. His hands, when they do begin to regularly come in contact with you are always a combination of soft and calloused. Every touch he lays on you is pedestrian and complete. There is no stroke or linger that he leaves possibility within. It drives you crazy. For the longest time you had craved his touch but to finally have it now is to learn that you’ve surpassed your previous desire. You always seem to be in need of him and it makes you nervous that Yoongi doesn’t appear to be struggling the way you are. Every brush of his fingers makes goosebumps raise on your skin, a noise of yearning tucked away in your throat that sometimes escapes. He memorizes every one of them and lets his mind recite them when he’s alone. He remembers the way your hair had fallen away from your shoulders when he touched your neck, head tilting to the side, or the way your lips had parted when his thumb had run along your mouth. Your body tells him that he’s not alone in wanting but still he restrains himself from mapping your body and claiming it as his own. If eventually you decide he’s not the one he supposes it will be good for you to go as you came to him; untarnished and complete. He has no business stealing both your heart and your virtue if you’re only to fall out from under the spell you seem to be under for now. Surely, he thinks, it can’t last. He doesn’t know what you see in him; you’re so good and sweet, so very fair, and he is… well, he’s not sure. It occurs to him one day that he is the kind of boy you’ll remember fondly in your later life, a wild, torrid, exploit of love before you found someone better, more stable and secure. Months and months pass though and you continue showing up in his doorway. The yearning he has for you has reached the point of mild insanity. He can feel his mind fraying at the edges at the simplest gesture. The exposed measure of your neck has him hungrily baring his teeth before he thinks better of it and your gathered strands fall back into place soon after. When you fall asleep amongst his sheets the swell of your hip makes his fingers fidget, begging to touch, a sliver of your skin peeking out from beneath your shirt threatening to banish his resolve entirely. He wants, wants, wants. He wants so much he’s mad with it and you’d blush down to the tips of your toes and virginal fingers if you even knew.It begins to rain one night when you’re on your way to see him. He’s not expecting you, in the same way that he never is, when you show up. You’re shivering and wet, your clothes sticking, leaving droplets of water across the wooden floorboards beneath your path inside. His door is usually left unlocked in the event that you show up and he peers up at the sound of the door, the storm echoing in around you. He looks in wonder at your sodden finger, your hair curled around your face and shoulders, rising loftily to his feet from his seat at the piano his fingers had paused over. As if he forgets his tact his hands are suddenly everywhere, tucking your hair back, running up and down your shoulders. He looks at you in an admonishing way and sighs in a way that’s both disappointed and fond. He’s pleased to see you, though he questions your choice to travel in such horrid weather. When he wordlessly reaches for the bottom of your shirt and begins to lift it, only thinking better of it and pausing with the soaked fabric between his fingertips, searching your face for assent, your breath catches in your throat. You’re not enough of a fool to think that this will be it and he’ll finally give in, though you lift your arms anyway and let him pull the shirt away. He’s careful not to touch you too intimately though he continues to rid you of your wet clothes, peeling the denim of your jeans carefully from your thighs, crouching as he does so. He’s soon on his knees before you and Yoongi thinks that it’s so fitting, kneeling before you like this. He’s begun to consider you devoutly, an altar to which he obligingly worships. His fingers smooth along the shape of your calf, along your thigh until he rests his hand against your hip and stands again. He looks at you with dark eyes, his shallow breaths a match for your own, pressing keenly into the silence that beats between you. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest, an intoxicating mix of anticipation and nerves rattling around. The entirety of your body absolutely aches with longing, your skin warm beneath the cool layer of wet that makes your skin sheen under the gauzy florescent lamp light of his room. You’re leaning in instinctively, following his lead as he too inches closer. His fingers slip into the hair at the nape of your neck and then his mouth is next to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, the shirt he’s wearing a faint ghost against your chest. He runs you a bath before things have a chance to go any further. You’re simultaneously disappointed and relieved. The hot water is soothing as it envelops you and knowing he’s mere feet away from you while you relax languidly in his tub gives you a thrill you haven’t experienced before. You feel particularly bold when, after softly calling your name, he comes in with some clothes to place them down on the sink. Though you aren’t bold enough to make a move more than baring the uncovered expanse of your back, your breasts loosely concealed by the arms you fold over your knees, a strangled noise escapes him when he sees you. There’s a hint of color in his cheeks and he averts his gaze swiftly, forcing his words to come out smoothly when he excuses himself and retreats to the relative safety of the other room. His mind swirls with thoughts of temptation while he tries to regain his bearings but it’s of little use. He feels reduced to a young boy again, so excited at just the sight of you, that he’s on his feet the moment he hears you call his name. Knowing nothing good can possibly come at this point he has, to some degree, accepted fate when you suggest he join you. You can see the hesitation in his eyes although he chooses to push it aside. He pulls his shirt over his head, carefully unbuttoning his pants and once they’re a discarded heap on the floor, removing his underwear. You’ve never seen quite so much of him before and your eyes drink in his moonlight skin greedily before he steps into the tub. He takes the space at the opposite side, of course, and then impulsively offers to shampoo your hair. It’s all perfectly innocent, his fingers embedded in the soapy tresses of your hair, massaging your scalp in a way that makes your breaths sound out listlessly in the quiet atmosphere. He makes no move to advance things though at this point your reservations are so far gone you know you wouldn’t stop him if he did. You want to do things with him that you’ve never wanted to do with anyone else. You want to do everything with him, only he won’t kiss you and you still don’t know why. A deep breath pulls between your parted lips and you sift your fingertips through the water. “Yoongi?” his name falls from your tongue in a soft and curious lilt. You can feel him sit straighter behind you, an acknowledging hum sounding from his throat in response. A moment passes as you gather your courage, suppressing the innate silliness you feel for even asking. You stare unseeingly ahead of you. “Are you ever going to kiss me?” In response, surprised you’ve finally brought it up, Yoongi laughs quietly, a sweet short harmony echoing around the bathroom. He leans forward, resting his forearms against the edge of the tub as he drops his chin to your shoulder. His answer comes easily; “Yes.” Satisfaction steals its way across your face momentarily before curiosity laps at your fingers and reels you back in, imploring you to press in a bit of a whine, “but when?” Yoongi smiles to himself and reclines against the back of the tub, forcing you to turn enough that you can see his face. There is a lazy contented smile on his lips though he answers solemnly; “When I have laid waste to your heart the same way you have laid waste to mine.” You can feel yourself blushing, your head ducking. In a small voice you admit, “It’s far too late for that.” Yoongi hears the question that you want to ask instead and without prompt he provides you a sentiment you can understand though it doesn’t drive you any less crazy. “I could kiss you now, I could have kissed you a thousand times, but imagine, now, when you want it, and later, when you need it.” The sweet torture of it all isn’t a hardship to endure. His fingers more readily seek out your skin these days and you’re not shy in doing the same. Your fingers are well acquainted with the spaces between his ribs, the underside of his jaw. When you’re feeling particularly brave you chance a soft venture of fingertips over the inside of his hips, satisfied with the way his throat moves with a loud swallow in response. He draws patterns into your back, stomach, arms, legs. He traces the curve of your knee while you watch tv, the slope of your neck whenever you wear your hair up. When you sleep in a tentative tangle of limbs you’re assured of his want when he unwittingly presses hot and hard against you. Before Yoongi had come along you had always worried sex was just another thing you wouldn’t get to experience, a language you would faintly recognize but never be able to understand completely. He wanted to be your dictionary; he wanted to open you up and teach you, pen desire along your thighs, longing inside your mouth. The idea of it all made you listless, a collection of limbs and lust encased in skin that was beginning to feel too tight to contain you. It felt as if, the weeks dripping by, you might burst into flame at any given moment. Your increasing familiarity with one another was, as he’d so hoped, driving you into a state of need, a state you thought might end in take. You didn’t want to push, he seemed so content to traverse the bounds he had set carefully, one at a time, but… He wasn’t playing fair. He was looking at you too earnestly, too intent. His fingers were in your hair or on your neck, his breath warming your skin, but he wasn’t kissing you. He was pulling you astride his lap, pressing his face into the curve of your neck, breathing you in, but he wasn’t kissing you. He was rolling you over in the gauzy morning hours and pinning you beneath him with sleep mussed hair and soft, mischievous eyes, but he wasn’t kissing you. It became all too much when you arrived at his place before he did, letting yourself in with the key he had eventually pressed into your palm. Yoongi wasn’t long behind you, sweet nothing messages keeping you company until he fell through the door. The tension between you was a familiar presence by now, thick and intoxicating, making you feel so strongly that the slightest touch felt electric. Your anticipation was mounting so highly that surely, surely you had to be almost at the peak when his hands were suddenly on your hips, driving you backward, pressing you into the wall, steadfast and sure behind you. Yoongi pressed into you, dark eyes boring into yours as his thumb parted your lips. Feeling your eyelashes flutter you attempted to meet his gaze just as strongly though your eyes fell away with a heavy sigh. “You’re not playing fair,” you complained, a note of irritation in your voice, creasing your brows. Yoongi smiled. “Who ever said there was anything fair about love?” He strokes your jaw, his thumb still brushing your lower lip. “How do you want it?” he asks and you think this could be it, the moment he finally gives in. You suck in a breath, your mind reeling with possibilities as he lays them out for you. “Soft, gentle,” his mouth draws so close it’s a faint whisper against yours as his thumb slips away. Your hands twist together behind his neck, eyes falling shut. “Or rough, demanding?” His hands slide up your arms and untangle your hands, twining your fingers together. He raises them above you, using his leverage to press you back against the wall and fit his body against yours in a way that’s so direct you feel dizzy with it. “I want…” your throat feels dry, your voice strangled as you try again and only succeed the same two words. You don’t know what you want exactly. “I just want you.” Even as he releases your hands you leave them raised above you, shivering while his fingers traverse the bare skin of your arms, dipping over the indents of your elbows, further down to your sides. He comes so close to the edge of your breasts in his descent that you feel yourself pressing forward greedily, needing more, needing something, anything.He obliges your need with a sudden grasp, picking you up only to tumble down onto his beaten mattress. You fall onto him heavily, scrambling to shift your weight, catch your breath, though Yoongi barely gives you a chance. His hand snakes into your hair and then his teeth are on your neck, carefully grazing over the soft skin. His free hand lays pliantly over your hip, keeping you anchored in place. He bites, licks, sucks at your neck until you’re a trembling mess above him, fingers scrambling for purchase. Eventually they sink into his sheets, grasping at the thin cotton helplessly. His name leaves you in a breathless whine that’s so light on your tongue you’re not sure you actually said it until you hear his answering hum, a curiosity intoning the sound yet he makes no effort to extract himself from you and listen like he normally would. The two of you, still tangled together, roll enough that you’re each on your sides, facing one another. Yoongi shifts forward to press his mouth against the hinge of your jaw, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt. He strokes the taut skin of your stomach, making you shiver while his mouth moves along your jaw, his hand along your hip and down your thigh. He takes purchase at the back of your knee, bringing your leg over his waist so he can occupy the space between your legs. The pressure, faint and teasing, against the apex of your thighs makes you sigh and unexpectedly Yoongi swallows the sound, his mouth finally pressing to yours, languid, damp and imploring. His lips glide over yours with an ease that you know hints at the practice he’s had before you. He moves at a measured pace, carefully prying your mouth open to lick his way inside. He kisses you so deeply you’re sure you’ll feel it for days and it is bliss.

[saltoftheao3]

AO3 tags 101

So to classify its content Archive Of Our Own uses a system called “tagging”, and I’ve seen quite a lot of people puzzled as to how exactly it is used. This is going to be a long post trying to clear that up, and hopefully providing some help and orientation.

(i am going to use a lot of fanfiction terminology in this post – you can look a lot of it up in this post)

What is tagging?

To cite the AO3 FAQ: “A tag is a keyword or phrase that you add to your works to make them easier to find.“ Tags also have the, at least as important purpose, of helping readers avoid content they don’t want to read.

Some of the AO3 tags are more or less mandatory: you have to chose a fandom, a rating, an archive warning from the available options (and be it “chose not to use those options”). 

Those mandatory tags have pretty detailed explanation boxes, which is why i’m focusing on the more puzzling domain of “Additional tags”, or “Freeform tags”:

(As said in its name, those tags are “freeform”, which means the author is entirely free to chose whatever keywords and catchphrase they want, be it some common tags, misspelled common tags, or new tags they’re introducing. If it’s a new tag, the AO3 tag wrangling staff then checks if it fits into a more common category, or if it stands on its own. 

I’ve seen people asking the following questions:

Why do i have to use freeform tags?

Well first off you absolutely don’t have to. But it gives readers additional info on whether your fic fits their taste, and can therefore get more people to read it. 

I know sometimes i look at the summary, think “meh”, but then i see in the tags that the fic uses some of my favorite tropes and end up giving it a shot. 

Also, it helps people find your fic again! A former reader is wondering “Oh, dang, i don’t remember the name nor the author but it had unicorns and mutual pining”? If your fic uses those tags they can find it without any problem through the search engine.

And, and i can’t stress this enough: it helps people that absolutely loathe the kind of content you create (because sensibilities are different, so sometimes it’s bound to happen) to stay waaay clear of it. Which is good for everybody involved.

But what if it spoilers my story?

Fear not! AO3 offers the neat option to hide the freeform tags as a default (for logged-in users); so whether your readers decide to look at the tags or not is completely up to them. 

Me? I very rarely look at tags. I dislike being spoilered, and i accept that i’ll probably end up reading things that don’t really float my boat as a consequence. And on the contrary i have friends who’d much rather put up with spoilers if it means they know what they’re getting into. Matter of personal taste, really! 

As an author you can merely provide that option for readers who enjoy additional info beforehand. It’s a bit of a friendly courtesy.

How many tags should I use?

Again, it’s completely up to personal taste. I’m not a big fan of huge walls of tags, because i don’t think they’re read in details by most readers, so i’d recommend between 3-7 tags for shorter stories (<5k words). For longer stories, readers often want to know in more details in what journey they’re getting into, so up to twenty tags is game in my books. More than that tends to look cluttered and distracting (again, my biased opinion).

What kind of tags should I use?

*rubs hands* This is where I suggest my neat lil’ classification of freeform tags (with some minor overlaps here and there). It’s based on observations and my own fandom experiences, so obviously it has no objective value, but i think it’s still a good summary of the different types of freeform tags used for most fics. Some kind of fics (i’m thinking PWP) have slightly different tagging conventions, but the following typology applies to most stories. 

You can use it as a checklist, or simply as inspiration on what kind of tags might apply to your fic.

Here’s my typology!

1. Format

These tags specify if your fic follows a particular fixed format in regard to length and style. Here’s some of the most common “format tags”:

(Double/Triple) Drabble 

Epistolary 

Ficlet (Collection)

Imagine 

Novel/Novella 

(Short) One Shot 

Poetry

POV First Person

Self-Insert

Screenplay/Script Format

Songfic

Stand Alone

Vignette ...

2. Genre

This one’s already a bit more tricky because so often there’s no over-arching “genre” in which your fic might fit (which is why there’s all the other tags to help you put some kind of label on your content!). Still, genre is a pretty important descriptor for your content; hence here are some of the common “fanfic genres”:  

Action/Adventure

Angst

Badfic

Character Study

Crack

Dark(-fic)

Fluff

Friendship

Humor

Horror

Kidfic

Romance

RPF/RPS

Porn Without Plot/Plot What Plot ...

3. Relationship to Canon

That’s one super cool in my books, because it’s sooo unique to fanfic. It specifies in what kind of relationship to the original content your story operates. Most common tags:

Alternate Timeline

Alternate Universe

Alternate Universe: X (e.g. werewolves)

Backstory

Canon-compliant

Canon-divergent

Crossover

Fix-It

Fusion

Missing Scene

Post-Canon

Pre-Canon/Pre-Series

Reboot ...

4. Fandom-specific tags

These tags are particularly relevant for book or movie series where the overarching fandom tag covers a really broad amount of content. Those tags give orientation in regards to which part of the canon content we’re talking about. For example, Harry Potter fandom may use terms like “Marauders’ Era” or “The Golden Trio Era” to specify what part of the original timeline the fic takes place in. 

But they also apply to fandom-specific events like Big Bangs/Reverse Big Bang, or fandom-specific tropes, genres and fanfic conventions. These are different for every fandom!

5. Common Fanfic Tropes

There’s a slight overlapping with “genre”, but all in all those tropes are a bit more specific, though widespread enough to be recognizable to avid fanfic readers.

Domestic

Everyone is alive

Fuck or Die

Getting together

Hurt/Comfort

Pining

Sex Pollen

Slow Burn

Soulmates

Time Travel

UST   

Whump ...    

And last but not least:

6. Content Warnings

Reminder that there’s mandatory archive warnings for AO3’s big four (underage sexual content, non-con/rape, graphic depictions of violence, character death) that you have to use, or at least indicate to readers you chose not to use them. 

You are not required to use further content warnings and no one can blame you for it, as long as you used the mandatory warnings properly. But there are some benefits to additional content warnings:

1. It frames the “problematic behavior XY” (e.g emotional blackmail) you depicted as a problematic behavior, which makes readers both aware that it’s Bad™ (important especially for younger audiences) and that the author knows it’s Bad™.

2. It helps people that wouldn’t enjoy that content avoid it, which, good for them, good for you

3. It helps people that are actively searching for specific dark and difficult topics, for whichever reason, to find them.

All in all i’d say it has established itself as a widespread fandom etiquette to tag content commonly viewed as squicky/triggery. Here are some of the most common ones:

(Past/Implied) (Child/Emotional) Abuse

Age Difference

Alcohol/Drugs

Body Horror

Coercion/Jealousy/Manipulation

(Very) Dubious Consent

Gore

Kinks

Mental Health Issues (Eating Disorders, PTSD, Depression etc.)

Pregnancy/Abortion/Miscarriage

(Internalized) Racism/Homophobia/Misogyny

Explicit Sexual Content

Terminal Illness

Torture

Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts ...

(and here’s a far more complete list of content warnings, but you get the gist)

Voilà! 

[iwhumpyou]

Masterlist Guide

Any additional information you need to navigate my whumpfic masterlist, posted here to avoid cluttering that post up any further.  If you have any questions, let me know!

Stage

In Progress - There is a clearly defined arc with a planned end in sight.  (This doesn’t mean that the next installment is coming any time soon.)

Disjoint - Existing pieces do not belong to a linear storyline and there is no plan to make them into one.

Arc Complete - There exists at least one complete arc inside that universe.

Complete - The story/universe has something that could perhaps be called an ending.  (There exists a possibility of future installments.)

Finished - I’m done writing for this story/universe.  You are welcome to request things in this universe, but for the most part the story/universe is over.

Universes

Links are to individual masterlists.  Each individual masterlist contains a more detailed summary of the universe, the types of whump (emotional and physical) that you will find in it, and its setting, characters, and pairings.  It also contains links to in-universe tags, as well as all answered asks and writer’s commentary for that particular universe.

Some arcs do not take place in the same universe/timeline.  If multiple arcs take place within the same timeline, it will be identified which timeline each arc belongs to.

Setting, types of whump, characters and pairings are inclusive of the whole universe and are not specific to individual arcs.

Individual universe masterlists are only created if there is a somewhat linear storyline, or several disjoint ficlets involving the same characters.

Featuring

These are the 4 tropes (whump and otherwise) that I feel best describe the story.  I try to include any popular or requested squicks/triggers in this section.

Ficlets

These stories are short and sweet.  Some may take place in the same universe.  These have no plans of expansion or any desire to be part of a storyline.

Squicks/Triggers

I always try to tag for type of physical injury and type of emotional whump present in that installment.  If you want to see something tagged, let me know.

Suggestions

I’ve organized my whumpfic universes by a selection of tropes to make it easier to search by preference.  The trope/criterion may not be the main focus in the universe.  If you want a curated list of suggestions based on a trope that’s not already on the list, feel free to drop me an ask.

[prolestariwrites]

Time To Go [2]: Dante Makes Hot Dogs And Doesn’t Get Laid

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 2/9 Chapter [1]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3. Beta read by @copper-wasp.

Now posted! Chapter 2: Dante Makes Hot Dogs And Doesn't Get Laid, in which Dante and Nero get a clue to what happened to Kyrie.

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Dante can feel the tension radiating from Nero as he drives the van back towards Fortuna. The kid hadn’t said anything since Dante insisted on the keys, slouched instead in the passenger seat as he stared out the window. It had taken every last ounce of his wits to navigate the city streets—driving the van after being used to his bike felt like he might as well be driving a whale—but now that they are on the highway, he relaxes a bit and glances over.

“Still nothing?” he asks.

“The phone hasn’t rung, has it?” Nero bites back sarcastically.

Dante’s lips press together; the kid is just as sarcastic as Vergil, one of the hundred ways they are similar without meaning to be. Genes are a hell of a thing, he has come to realize, so he tries another approach. “Tell me what you did today—maybe I can help figure out what’s missing.”

Nero looks at him skeptically, but sits up a bit. “I woke up and Kyrie was gone. She uh… she slept in my room last night.” Dante glances over with his brows raised and spots the blush on Nero’s face before he turns back to the window. What was that about? “I figured she had a meeting or something, something to do. It was late enough that the kids had already left for school.

“I went downstairs and got breakfast, checked for messages, checked the mail. By lunchtime I hadn’t heard from her, so I called her cell, but she didn’t answer.”

“Was her phone in the house?”

“Huh?”

“What I said,” Dante replies. He switches lanes abruptly, sending the van rocking for a moment. “Did you check the house for her phone?”

Nero frowns. “No. But I didn’t hear it ring.”

“Could be dead. Or she doesn’t have it on her. But go on.”

Nero hesitates for a second, as if considering, and then continues, “Nico was in the garage. She said she hadn’t seen her either. I walked around a bit, went to the store, checked at the cafe she likes. Nobody saw her.”

“Nico didn’t hear her leave?”

Nero snorts. “Nico wouldn’t hear a dinosaur when she’s working in the garage.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. Would you keep your hands on the wheel?” Dante stops fixing the mirrors at Nero’s exasperated tone. “I called more people. No one had talked to her today. Then I got a phone call about somebody who needed help. It wasn’t the cops though, it was an anonymous tip. But when I got there, nobody was there.”

“That’s weird.”

Nero sighs and puts his foot up on the dashboard. “Happens sometimes. Somebody wants me to fight a demon but it clears off before I get there. When I got back home, the kids were there, but still no Kyrie. That’s when I got really worried.”

His phone rings, startling them both, and Nero nearly drops it out the window as he fumbles for it. “Yeah?” he says quickly, his shoulders tense. “No,” he growls, “we’re at least ten minutes away… No, he can’t have ice cream… For fuck’s sake, Nico, can you just handle it? Tell them to get their homework done and go to bed… I don’t know, make them sandwiches or something.”

He jabs at the screen angrily before rubbing his forehead. “God help us all if she ever becomes a mother.”

Dante snorts at that. “Yeah, she don’t seem the type.”

Nero goes back to staring out the window. He is quiet for a few minutes before he says, “If something’s happened to her—”

“She’s fine ,” Dante insists.

There is another brief silence, and Dante mulls over what to do. Nero is usually a fairly level-headed kid… at least as level-headed as a twenty-four-year-old half-devil can be. But he has a stubborn streak a mile wide and a blind spot the size of the Grand Canyon when it comes to Kyrie, so his main worry now is keeping him from doing something rash and getting his ass handed to him. He swerves a bit while deep in thought to avoid a pothole, but almost sideswipes a car in the next lane. The car blares its horn and Dante blows his own back, flipping them off as the car speeds by. “Watch where you’re going!” Nero yells.

“He almost ran into me!” he protests.

“Christ, just get us home in one piece,” mumbles Nero.

Dante huffs, putting the turn signal on to switch lanes. Soon their exit appears, and they arrive in Fortuna without further incident. When he parks in front of the house Nero leans over to yank the keys out of the ignition. “You are never driving my van again,” he announces as he jumps out of the passenger side.

“Whatever.” Dante walks around the vehicle and follows Nero into the garage. It is empty, and he glances curiously at the array of gadgets in various stages of building that lay scattered on the work table. Nero leads him through the door to the kitchen, where they find Nico. “Finally,” she sighs, hands on her hips.

“Where’s the note?” Nero asks.

“I’ll get it. Here.” She yanks a plate of steaming hot dogs out of the microwave and shoves it at Dante. “Go feed them.”

Dante frowns as she hurries out of the kitchen. “Come on,” Nero grumbles, leading him into the dining room.

Their place is almost as big as Dante’s building, but with nine people in the house it is cluttered with stuff. Bins of toys, shelves filled with books, shoes stacked by the front door, and the cartoons blaring on the television make the house feel much cozier. However, as he navigates the toy-strewn floor Dante decides he prefers his own place. This is especially true when they get through the family room to the dining room, where six faces turn when they enter, all talking excitedly.

Nero actually smiles a bit when they are so happy to see him, and Dante decides to get in on things. “Hey, kids!” he says with fake enthusiasm, lifting up the plate dramatically. “Uncle Dante made you some dogs!”

The entrance goes flat, the room silent as they gape at him. Nero sighs as Dante lays the plate on the table, moving to stand behind the head chair. “Listen, guys, you’re gonna be on your own tonight.” He nods to the oldest boy who looks about twelve or so. “Samuel, you’re in charge. I want you all to eat and get to bed.”

“Where’s Kyrie?” Samuel asks.

“She’s working tonight,” Nero says. “I’m gonna go pick her up, but it will be a while. Nico will be here if there’s an emergency.” He narrows his eyes and drops his voice a bit. “Everyone got it? We need everyone’s help for this team to work.”

The kids agree and Nero starts handing out the hot dogs, stopping when he is done to give Samuel a few quiet instructions. Dante waits with his arms folded until a hand tugs on his jacket.

“Are those real guns?” one of them asks, pointing to Dante’s hips.

“Uh…” He looks over at Nero, who isn’t paying attention. “Yeah, they are.”

“Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Can I touch it?”

He frowns down at the little boy, who is staring at him with an eager curiosity. “No!”

“Do you kill people with it?”

“Nero?” he shouts. “You ready?”

Nero glances over and nods, and after giving Samuel a firm pat on the shoulder, he leads him back out to the garage. Dante glances behind and frowns at the one who was questioning him, the kid nearly falling out of his chair leaning back to watch him leave, and shakes his head as they step through the doorway. “Kids are the worst,” he mutters.

That earns him a sideways glance as they walk over to Nico, who is standing in front of her work table. “Where’s the note?” Nero demands.

“Here.” She hands over an envelope and a folded piece of paper. “It was sealed when it arrived.”

Nero opens the note, reading it for a second before handing it to Dante. In a script that is too perfect to be handwritten, it reads: Don’t look. I’ll be in touch.

He frowns, trying to figure out what it means. “See?” Nero hisses. “Someone’s taken her.”

Dante doesn’t answer, handing the paper back to him. “Where do we start looking? Who would want to hurt you guys?”

He and Nico exchange a glance. “Plenty of people, actually,” Nico replies, and his brows raise. “Everybody knows Nero is the city’s demon hunter, so not only can the demons find him if they know what to look for, any sympathizers can figure it out too.”

“It has to be someone connected to the demon world,” he growls.

“I don’t know, Kyrie has her own set of people who would want her gone, too,” Nico says.

The two men look at her strangely and she shrugs. “I mean, she’s important, right? She’s one of the last survivors of the Order. Lots of people died, so if someone wanted revenge, Kyrie is an obvious choice. Plus now she’s a public figure. People hated the Order, and don’t want Fortuna to have anything to do with it. Other people hate the new charity, wanting the Order back in charge.” She gestures to the letter. “I’d say half of Fortuna could be a suspect. And that’s not even counting anyone who hates the Spardas.”

“I get it,” Dante groans, rubbing his face. “All right. What we need is a clue. We gotta narrow this down somehow.”

“How do we do that?” Nero asks.

He looks at his wrist before realizing he doesn’t wear a watch. “It’s not that late. I know an empath in a town not far from here. Let’s roll.”

“Fine. I’ll drive.” Nero stuffs the letter in his jacket pocket and heads for the door.

“Want me to come?” Nico offers.

“No. Stay here and answer the phone. And don’t let the kids burn the house down.”

Nico makes a face, and Dante salutes her with a laugh before he follows him back out to the van. Both climb inside and shut the doors, and Nero pulls out into the street, heading for the freeway that will take them west.

Dante gives directions and then starts to fiddle with the radio. “This empath any good?” Nero asks.

“Yeah. She’s good.” He settles on a station and drums his fingers on the armrest.

“Has this ever happened to you?” Nero asks.

Dante looks over, his brows drawn in question. “Has what ever happened to me?”

“Demons coming after you like this?”

He thinks about all the times a demon came crashing into his shop or showing up where he was, the times a hoard had overrun a town he was staying in, all the way back to the day an army descended on his childhood home. “Yeah. It’s happened.”

“Fuck this,” Nero hisses. “Why’s it gotta be us? I didn’t ask for this life. I didn’t ask to be a demon hunter.”

“Yeah,” Dante agrees, sighing as he looks out the window. “None of us did.”

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Nero takes a moment to look at the little house before following Dante towards the front door. It looks completely normal, faded yellow paint on the shutters, a little picket fence, the front path neatly swept. It is nearly eight o’clock by the time they are on the porch, ringing the bell, but the lamps inside still give a glow through the windows and Nero can hear the television on the inside. It’s not until they are waiting that he notices a sign hanging over the front step that says: Psychic Readings, Walk-Ins Welcome.

A moment later the door opens. A young woman with long white hair wearing an oversized sweater and glasses looks up at them. “Can I help you?”

Nero clears his throat but Dante holds out his hands. “Lir! Long time no see!”

“You have got to be kidding me.” She scowls up at him, and it would be almost comical with her height that only goes to about Dante’s shoulder. But her look is fierce and her voice bitter as she snaps, “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up here.”

“Don’t be like that, hon. Besides, I need your help.”

“Help?” she scoffs.

“Yeah. I’ll even pay you.”

She looks at him suspiciously before giving Nero a once-over. Then she steps back and waves them inside. “You have ten minutes.”

“Thanks, babe.” Nero follows him as they step into the foyer. The house is decorated simply, the walls and floors wood, and she leads them into a small parlor but does not offer them seats.

“Well?” Lir asks, folding her arms.

Dante clears his throat. “Kid’s got a note and don’t know who it’s from. Think you could tell us?”

Lir snorts. “You know my empathy doesn’t work that way.”

Nero’s heart sinks, but Dante moans, “Oh come on, can’t you try? Just see if you pick up something.”

She heaves a huge sigh and walks behind a desk in the corner. As she takes a seat in the desk chair, Nero and Dante move to take the two opposite. Nero leans forward eagerly, his elbows perched on his knees, as Dante sits back and crosses one leg over the other.

“So what is this note?” she asks.

Dante nudges him so Nero says, “My girlfriend has been kidnapped. This was delivered earlier.” He pulls it from his pocket and holds it out with the envelope, but Lir simply looks at it. “Some demon wrote this, but we don’t know who.”

Lir gives a huff of air. “It’s not from a demon, I can tell you that much by looking at it.”

“What do you mean?” Nero frowns. “You can’t just know that!”

“Sure I can.” She looks at Dante blankly. “Twenty dollars.”

“Please! Just—” Nero growls and shakes the note at her. “Just take it! Try something.”

The woman’s shoulders flex a bit as she leans forward, her hands planted on the desk and her voice no-nonsense. She looks intimidating despite her small frame and pretty face, and Nero feels his ears go pink. “You listen here,” she says in a low tone. “I’ve been reading people my whole life, so when I tell you that there’s no demon on that paper, then there’s no goddamn demon on that goddamn paper, you understand me?”

Fury bubbles over as Nero curses and jumps to his feet. “This is bullshit. You’re a hack.” He points an angry finger at Lir who shoots him a scowl. He tries to think of something else to say, but when nothing comes to mind he shouts, “Come on, Dante, let’s go.”

“Babe.” Dante sighs and leans forward, and Nero gapes at him as he props his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand. “Don’t be too hard on the kid. He just lost the woman he loves. I mean, look at him.” They both glance at Nero, who frowns. “If I had someone to love like that, I’d be losing my shit too. Only…” He gives her a slow smile. “I don’t have somebody to love. I always wished I had a sweet, pretty thing, long white hair and dark lashes, lips full and pink and ready for me to—”

“Okay! Okay. Just… stop.” But she is laughing, and she shoots him a look as she holds her hand out to Nero. “Let me see it.”

He hesitates just a second before giving over the letter. Lir’s brows go up in surprise as soon as her hand closes around the paper. “Well. What do you know? There is a demon on this note.”

She frowns but Nero says, “I knew it! A demon sent this, didn’t they?”

“No,” she answers. “It’s just a trace. Probably from you handling it so much.”

Nero feels the blood drain from his face. “What do you mean? I’m not a—”

“I’m not stupid,” she huffs, looking at him sharply. “I know a half-breed when I see one.” She looks at Dante and rolls her eyes. “Where did you find this kid?”

“He’s my nephew,” Dante explains.

Lir lets out a huge laugh. “Should have known! Just like the rest of you Spardas. Stubborn and stupid.”

Nero slumps a bit in his chair as she goes back to concentrating. “There’s definitely a mix, but again, it’s hard to tell. Should have worn gloves or something at least,” she scolds him. Then her brow tenses. “It’s someone connected to you. Someone close.”

“What?” Nero leans forward, looking at the letter. “Who could it be?”

“Did Kyrie write this?” Dante asks.

He looks sharply at him, ready to argue, but Lir shakes her head. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s not connected like that. It’s a relative of yours.”

Nero feels his ears burn as something churns in his stomach. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.” He stands and looks at Dante, who is frowning up at him. “That bastard.”

“Wait a second,” Dante snaps.

“Fucking Vergil. I’m gonna kill him.” Nero grabs the note and heads for the door, but Dante is quicker. “Move,” he growls.

“You don’t know it’s him. Don’t be stupid.” Dante jerks his head up. “And you owe her twenty dollars.”

Furious now, Nero pulls out a wad of cash and tosses it at Dante, hitting him in the chest. Then he steps around him and storms out of the house, yanking open the door of the van.

Dante climbs in the passenger side as Nero starts the ignition. “You can come, but don’t try to stop me,” Nero warns.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dante replies, reaching down to lean the seat all the way back.

Nero glances over, not entirely sure if he’s telling the truth. Dante props his feet up on the dash and promptly begins to snore as Nero drives the van back towards the city. Up ahead the lights flicker on the horizon, and he narrows his eyes, knowing that Kyrie is there somewhere, waiting for him.

[shadedrose01]

Date Night Differences

Ship: Parkner (Harley Keener/Peter Parker)

Summary: Harley and Peter go on a mission for their date night.

Tags: Febufluff, Date Night, Harley Keener as Iron Lad, BAMF Harley Keener, BAMF Peter Parker, Hydra (Marvel), hydra base, a tiny bit of violence, Peter Parker having Deadpool energy, Established Relationship, Dorks in Love, Exasperated Harley Keener, Fluff, Cute Ending, Bisexual Peter Parker, Gay Harley Keener, And a smidge of angst? But not really? Idk, Harley has an AI named ABBIE, and theres one Into The Spiderverse reference too

Day three of Febufluff: "Date Night"!

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"We really need to rethink our choices." Harley groans as a fist collides with his metal helmet, his head swiveling to the side with the force of the blow. He glares back at the agent that hit him, who is now cradling his probably broken hand, and punches him back, the agents body flying across the room.

"What, you don't like this?" Peter voice chimes back through the coms, slight staticky and obviously out of breath as he fights, probably kicking ass wherever the hell he was.

"Scouting a HYDRA base for date night?" Harley hears a beep, sees two red dots coming up from behind him on his radar, and deploys his mini missiles, shooting out of his back and watching as the dots suddenly disappear. "No, not really, Pete. Why couldn't Tony or literally anyone else come do this for us? We could be having dinner right now, or watching a movie." He whines into the now empty space, sounding like a child as he strolls through the dark halls of the base, using infrared light to watch for any body heat signatures around him and keeping an eye on his radar to see if anyone else is coming his way.

"You know why, Harls." Peter teases, before grunting, a crash coming through right afterwards that makes Harley's heart spike.

"You good, Pete??"

There's a pause, and then a "Yup! All good!" that relaxes Harley instantly, puffing out a long breathe of air.

"Good. And yeah, I know why, but still! Stupid old people and their stupid retirement." He grumbles, turning the corner and freezing, seeing a room full of body signatures further down the hall to his right. The main room, Harley assumes, leaning against the wall and crouching down, trying to make himself less noticable just in case any stranglers come around. "Where are you, anyways?"

"I'm right here!" Peter suddenly appears in front of him, jumping down from the ceiling and giving Harley a massive heart attack, his body jerking back and tensing up instinctively before relaxing again.

"Gah, Peter! You cant just do that!" He breathes, putting a hand over his chest plate beside the arc reactor, above where his heart is.

Peter's mask twitches, his eyes moving in a motion that Harley can tell is him rolling his eyes, and Harley glares back at him even though Peter can't see it. "I'm surprised you didn't see me, with all of your fancy smancy tech."

Now its Harley that's rolling his eyes. "I told ABBIE to only warn me when threats are approaching. You aren't percieved as a threat."

Peter gasps dramatically. "Awh, babe! That's so sweet!"

Harley attempts to sigh in annoyance, but it ends up as a breathy laugh. "Let's just get this over with. What are we looking for again?"

"The codes for some super weapon that could kill us all or something. You know, the usual." Peter shrugs, winking, and this time Harley does sigh, causing Peter's shoulders to shake with silent laughter. "They should be on a computer in the final bosses room."

Harley ignores the video game analogy, exasperated out of his mind, and nods towards the room with all the heat signatures in it, the bodies barely moving. "In there. There's about 6 people, and they're just standing around, waiting. I think they know we're here."

"Then let's not keep the party waiting!" Peter jumps back up on to the ceiling, stealthily crawling his way towards the door and Harley follows, creeping over himself, on the floor instead. He presses his back against the wall and takes a deep breath. "You ready?"

"Ai ai, captain!" Is the response he gets, and Harley breathes out one last, airy chuckle before aiming his repulsor at the door and shooting it open, going in guns ablazing.

The agents start to shoot at him, but the Iron Lad armour absorbs all of the hits, the bullets ricocheting off of him and hitting different parts of the room. He starts firing repulsor blasts at the three people in his range, knocking them unconscious easily, looking for the other three. He doesn't  have to look far to see two bodies on the floor, and one attached to the wall, all unmoving and covered in webs, with a certain spider stood in the middle of the carnage, looking pleased with himself. "Well dress me up and call me the Staples button, because that was easy."

He even does a not so terrible impression of the voice. This is the person Harley loves. This is the person he chooses to be around. Why does he do this to himself?

(He wouldn't have it any other way.)

He doesn't dignify that with a response, though he silently agrees, and makes his way over to the large row of computers sat on top of a wooden rickety table against the wall, the space cluttered, gray and dark, like the stereotypical enemy computers that you'd see in the movies. How cliché. He searches around, and quickly finds a USB port. Now, he just- "Hey, you still got the USB stick, or whatever the hell you call it?" He turns towards Peter, who tilts his head like a confused puppy.

"The goober?"

"Yeah, that." Peter pats himself down, before putting his hand into an invisible pocket on his thigh that Harley has never seen before, and pulling the small device out with a small "ta-da!"

"Thanks, babe." He tries to push the stick into the slot, but it doesnt work, so he flips it over and tries again. When that doesnt work, he groans, flips it back over again, and when it finally slots into place, Harley watching as the code floods onto the screen, overriding the passcodes and finding the information they did to complete their mission.

The progression bar is about halfway to completion when Peter speaks up again. "Uh, babe?" and the change in his voice, from upbeat to quiet, nervous, has Harley alert immediately.

"Yeah?"

"Something's wrong." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his display lights up red, images of a crumbling building and the words 'unstable structure' screaming in his face.

"The building is collapsing, Boss!" ABBIE exclaims to him, the AI's usually calm, youthful robotic voice filled with a fear Harley didn't know it could have. "You will need to escape immediately to avoid significant injury."

"Shit!" Harley glances at the progression bar, seeing that it's almost complete, almost done, just a little longer-

"Harls, what's happening?" Peter breaks into his thoughts as the room starts to shake, dust starting to fall from the ceiling, an ominous rumble starting in the background. Harley reaches out and grabs onto him, pressing the boy close to his body as the progress bar hits 100%, the rumble turning into a loud roar. "Harls?!?"

He yanks the stick out of its slot, and yells out a quick "hold on!" Before he shoots off towards the exit, flying through doorway after doorway as the rooms start to groan around him, large blocks of ceiling falling in front of his own eyes. He doesnt focus on it, can't focus on it, he has to get them to safety, has to get Peter out safely, he has to-

Harley breaks through the entrance of the base, shooting up into the sky just as the entire building crumbles to the ground, a cloud of dust flooding the air around it. Harley flies a little ways away, the USB, goober, whatever, still in hand, clutching onto Peter with the other.

He finds a hill further up the plain where the base was built, and lands slowly, gently, carefully helping Peter to his feet as soon as he does. He retracts his helmet, Peter taking off his mask, and a gloved hand grabs onto Peter's cheek, staring into his slightly shaken eyes and scanning his face and body for any injuries. "You okay? You aren't hurt, are you?"

"N-no, no, I'm okay. Are you okay?"

Harley lets out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I'm okay, baby. I'm the one with the metal suit."

"Hey, I have a metal suit too!" Peter pouts, and Harley instantly knows he's alright. Really, truly alright, not just lying to make Harley feel better (which he has done one too many times in the past). "...Not on me, but still!"

Harley can't help the laugh that escapes him, hearty, full of warmth. "I know, sweetheart, I know."

He sees a big, goofy smile grow onto Peter's face, and Harley cant help but to pull him into a hug, pressing his face into Peter's hair as Peter nuzzles into his chest with a soft, content sigh. Looking over Peter's shoulder, Harley can faintly see the pinks, reds, yellows and oranges of the setting sun through the trees, the ball of fire slowly sinking into the horizon, and he cant help but to grin. With a successful mission on their hands, and Peter in his arms, Harley cant help but to grin, feeling satisfied.

Maybe this wasn't so bad of a date night after all.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Season of Giving

Summary: Stretch has an important errand to run but he needs a little help. Luckily, he's got Andy Jeff at his side. Surely nothing can go wrong.

Notes: Wow, an actual chapter and not a short. @cheapbourbon gave me the idea for this and I ran with it. I hope it’s what they were hoping for! Enjoy!

Tags: Holidays, Husbands, Underfell Was Not A Good Place, Veterans, Homelessness. Part of ‘by any other name’

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Most mornings, Stretch didn’t wake up when Edge went to work and this morning was no exception. From his experience on the mornings that he did wake up, he suspected there was a kiss or two and possibly some general affection before Edge went out the door. His theory was unconfirmed but then so was relativity. Didn’t mean that it wasn’t leaning in the direction of absolutely true.

Stumbling down the stairs in search of coffee had him walking past the guest room and through his caffeine craving, he remembered that Jeff had stayed the night. There was a certain satisfaction in the knowledge that he wasn’t the only person who slept in when they could. It was a layer of confirmation of another theory, that Edge was a sick individual to get out of bed at five am on a Saturday and he must be stopped as often as Stretch was capable of doing so.

Not every Saturday, mind. The best morning sex in the world wasn’t worth that.

The coffee pot was filled with what was probably reasonably fresh coffee and Stretch poured a cup on autopilot, adding copious cream and sugar before finally taking a grateful sip. It took most of the cup before he noticed the covered tray on the counter and he took the lid off warily, sighing in relief at the contents. Apple oatmeal muffins today, excellent. Bran should be reserved for the chickens and sometimes were. Nugget loved Edge’s bran muffins.

He was halfway through a muffin and coffee when he heard the creak of the stairs. Excellent timing. Jeff didn’t know it yet but Stretch had an ulterior motive in asking him to stay the night. Cheap, trustworthy labor was the name of the game and Jeff usually worked for coffee.

“morning, andy,” Stretch mumbled as Jeff shuffled into the kitchen. Kid looked rough, his hair was sticking out in scientifically interesting algorithms and yesterday’s rumpled clothes didn’t really improve anything. The half-full coffee pot earned far more interest than he did, and he waited patiently for Jeff to pour a cup, silently pushing over the plate of muffins.

Half a cup later, Jeff finally offered back a raspy, “Morning.”

Stretch grinned, “nice to see you do as well in the a.m. as i do. so! now that i have you here as a semi-captive audience…”

Jeff paused, his cup halfway to his mouth. “Semi-captive? What’s in the coffee?”

“…how do you feel about helping me out today?”

He’d probably earned the suspicious look Jeff sent his way. “Help you with what?”

Stretch propped his chin on his hand and gave Jeff what he hoped was a winsome smile. “it’s a surprise!”

“Your surprises get me into trouble,” Jeff pointed out, but he was grinning. “Okay. Count me in.”

“you won’t regret it! probably.”

Between them, they finished the muffins and most of the coffee, and Jeff followed behind him as Stretch led him back upstairs to where several bags were hidden in the guest closet, a clutter of wrapped presents poking out from the tops.

“what i really need is an extra pair of hands,” Stretch told him cheerfully. “think you can manage that?”

Jeff eyed the bags. “They don’t look heavy. If you're capable, I can probably manage.”

“ouch. cruel but not untrue. oh, wait!” Stretch dug through one of the bags and pulled out two cheap felt Santa hats. He tugged one over Jeff’s head and the bell at the end rang with a tinny jangle.

“What exactly are we doing?” Jeff picked up a few of the bags and followed behind Stretch who was carrying his own burden.

“oh, it’ll be fun!” Stretch said airily as they put on the coats before going out the door. He doubted it escaped Jeff’s notice that he didn’t answer his question.

A theory that was proved when Jeff hummed thoughtfully and asked, “And why did you ask me to help cart this stuff along on the bus rather than ask Edge for a ride?”

Stretch sighed and settled on honesty over flippancy. “because edge would flip his shit and try to think of a way to order me not to do it without making it sound like he was ordering me not to do it because he knows that would piss me off.”

That made Jeff stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk. Not for long, he chased after Stretch and it was further proof that he and Stretch were platonic soul mates because his expression was a little wary but not afraid. “Is this fun thing we’re doing that will piss Edge off dangerous? Because generally speaking, I prefer not to piss him off. Avoiding danger takes second place on my list but it’s still pretty high up.”

“not dangerous,” Stretch told him. He set the bags down with a grunt at the shuttle stop. “more like staying aware and street smarts and shit like that. think you can handle it?”

“I’m trusting you,” Jeff said warningly. “Don’t get me killed by misadventure or Edge.”

“no death,” Stretch assured him. Probably.

The bus ride was longer than his normal, the furthest away from New New Home that the route went. The buildings went from brightly decorated coffee shops and book stores to duller, grayer surroundings, with the occasional desperate display of lights. Many of the houses they passed were empty or listed for sale, the windows dark and unwelcoming.

Not the best part of town, to be sure. When they finally got off the bus, Stretch noticed with some amusement that Jeff stayed close to him, although whether it was some misguided attempt to protect him or a strength in numbers thing, Stretch couldn’t say. Like they both didn’t look like they had targets painted on them. But this time of day shouldn’t be too bad, and it wasn’t like Stretch was helpless, thank you.

“listen, kid, if anything starts looking rough, grab my arm, okay?” Stretch told him quietly, “i can get us both a good distance away.”

“Okay,” Jeff muttered. He looked uncomfortable and out of place surrounded by liquor stores and strip clubs. Not that Stretch thought he looked any better, he was fairly sure Monsters didn’t come to this part of town often.

Well, Monsters aside from him, anyway.

Where they were going wasn’t far from the bus stop and Jeff stayed close as Stretch walked confidently along. It wasn’t much different than the slums in New Home, and while he and Blue hadn’t stayed in them for very long, hardly more than a month as kids, Stretch supposed some memories never faded. All anyone had to do was pay some damn attention. Stretch didn’t usually use much magic for anything past shortcutting. Didn’t mean he couldn’t, and he knew all too well how to extend his awareness, hadn’t needed Red or Edge to teach him that little trick.

They stopped when they came to a rusty door situated on the side of a building. There was a plate on it saying it was protected by Davis security and nothing else. He and Jeff both set down their burdens with relieved sighs and Stretch knocked firmly.

Quickly enough it swung open, warmth and noise spilling out of a very busy kitchen. The Human in the doorway looked at him suspiciously. “Yeah?”

“Debbie is expecting me,” Stretch said calmly and before the Human could reply, a woman came rushing over.

“Stretch!” She hugged him and Stretch returned it gratefully. Damn, but he missed the coffee shop and not just for their excellent French roast. He’d gotten used to seeing Debbie at least once a week and knowing they were working hard to get it reopened only helped so much. “Hi, sweetheart, you’re earlier than I expected!”

“yeah, i wanted to get this stuff to you,” Stretch hooked a thumb at Jeff, who was standing in silent curiously. “you remember andy?”

“You mean Jeff?” Debbie shook her head. “Of course I do, how are you doing?”

Jeff blinked and Stretch saw the moment he recognized her, from either the wedding or the coffee shop. “Oh! Hi, yeah, I’m good, really good. We have…presents? Stretch hasn’t given me much info, here.”

“Presents, yes!” She took the bags that Stretch held out to her, though one he held back. “They’re for the shelter Christmas giveaway tonight.”

“i’m not allowed to volunteer at the shelter,” Stretch told him quietly, looking away from Debbie’s suddenly sympathetic face. “some of the people who stay here aren’t in a good place and seeing a walking talking representation of death hanging around can be a little upsetting. But i wanted to do something so, i do this.”

Jeff nodded slowly. “So, these are presents for the homeless shelter?”

“The New Hope shelter,” Debbie correctly gently. “Yes. What did you go with this year?”

Stretch tapped one of the brightly wrapped boxes. “socks. gloves. deodorant. toothbrush and toothpaste. shaving cream and a razor and a visa gift card.”

“Perfect.” She hugged Stretch again and Stretch leaned into it with a sigh. “Tell Edge I said thank you.”

“sure,” Stretch said agreeably. He wasn’t about to do any such thing but eh, she didn’t know that and by the time she saw Edge again, it was going to be a little late to matter.

Debbie was too busy to chat, already someone was calling her name, and with a last quick thank you, she shut the door, leaving them on the stairs.

There was only one bag left and Stretch let Jeff snag it, lighting a cigarette as he made his way back out to the street with Jeff trailing behind him.

“Why would Edge be upset you donated to a shelter?” Jeff asked, a little doubtfully. That proved his good sense and Stretch slung the arm without the cigarette at the end of it around his shoulders, giving him a rough hug.

“oh, he wouldn’t be upset about that. it’s what we’re doing next he’ll be salty about.” Stretch gave the last bag a little shake. “you ready?”

“Lead on, Macduff.”

The sidewalks were mostly empty this time of morning, a few feeble neon lights glowing at corner stores advertising liquor and lottery. A couple Humans gave them double takes but not too many. They had the internet, they’d seen Monsters and bundled up as he was, Stretch had to be close for people to notice it, anyway.

He was looking for something a little different and it was unhappily easy to find. The first person was curled up in an alleyway with a blanket and all their worldly possessions in a stolen grocery cart. He blinked at them in bewilderment, taking the offered box with wary gratitude that shifted to truth when he opened it. Such a simple gift, socks, gloves. Little things that Stretch knew were desperately needed.

There weren’t too many people on the streets, not at this time of day, but they gave a box to every person they could find.

Much as Stretch wanted to play Santa, it was probably better for everyone if he let Jeff do the honors, so he stood back, smoking while he watched confused faces turn into tearful happiness or relief as Jeff handed over the gifts. It didn’t take an hour for them to empty their bag and Stretch was feeling a little sick from the amount he’d smoked. Didn’t stop him from lighting another one as they walked back to the bus stop. He needed something to do with his hands right now, something to keep them busy.

“I don’t know if I’d call that fun, but it felt pretty good,” Jeff admitted.

“yeah, it did.” He blew out a breath of smoke into the wind. “lot of homeless people are veterans, you know?” He hesitated, glancing at Jeff out of the corner of his socket and added, softly, “edge used to be a soldier. he and his brother, both.”

“Yeah?” Jeff didn’t sound surprised and Stretch wondered what Antwan had told him, if anything.

“yeah. he was a captain, back home.” He didn’t say anything else and Jeff didn’t ask.

He didn’t tell Jeff that it had personally taken him a while, far too long, to see Edge’s LV as less that of a murdering thug and more of someone desperate enough to protect that he would go to any lengths. He could see a little of his own former soldier in some of these worn faces, a mirror of Edge’s after a nightmare. If the world had taken a slightly different turn, leaned left instead of right—

Edge rarely talked about Underfell but Red would if he’d had enough to drink. He’d told stories, laughing at them as Stretch tried to smile while hiding the choking fear of what might have been. Of what they both might have been forced to become if they hadn’t come here. Like this, perhaps, on the cold streets, crazed with LV, or something far more awful. Looking at these Humans made a pain well in his soul, aching to think there was ever a possibility Edge could have ended up alone and unloved in the cold.

Or worse, if the fracture in the universes had taken all of them to Underfell instead of here. The margin of error was precariously thin, it could have happened.

Stretch shook that thought away. Probably better not to wonder about that, there were mental dragons in that direction and he’d set off nightmares of his own if he strayed that way.

Instead, he asked Jeff, lightly, “so, i’ve been wanting to ask. is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jeff didn’t look at him, his head ducked down against the wind.

“just checking,” Stretch said breezily, “if you ever want to talk, i may not have ears but i listen pretty well. i keep secrets, too.” He crossed a finger over his chest. “promise”

“I’ll remember that,” Jeff said and that was it. Welp, he’d tried. First strike. Stretch wasn’t about to give up, though. Something wasn’t right with his friends and if they had to depend on Edge getting anything out of Antwan, they might as well start buying preemptive breakup ice cream.

The bus stop was only around the corner and Stretch was about to tamp out his cigarette when he felt it, through the net of awareness he’d spread. A pulse of intent and he moved before he even thought, catching Jeff by the arm and shortcutting them down the street. Jeff jerked in his grip, but they were already back on their feet by then, the bottle that someone had flung at them left to shatter harmlessly on the sidewalk. He couldn’t make out whatever the Human shouted but it wasn’t coming in their direction. That’s all that was important.

“come on,” Stretch whispered urgently, “they didn’t see where we went.”

Jeff’s eyes were wide, even as he stumbled after him. “How did you even—“

“always try to tell you guys, i’m pretty light on my feet.” His grin felt a little wobbly. “it’s hard to explain, it’s a magic thing.”

The bus was pulling up as they reached the stop and they hurried onto it. Nervous energy was still thrumming in him and Stretch automatically pulled out his lighter, flipping it through his fingers, until the anxious pulse in his soul settled a bit. Only then did he notice Jeff was staring at him.

“what?” Stretch asked, a little defensively. There was only one other person on the bus and they were sitting at the very front, absorbed in a book.

“So, do you like, see the future or something?” Jeff whispered. The awe in it made Stretch bark out a laugh.

“nah, i bend the laws of physics enough as it is. it’s...it’s all about intent. i can feel it sometimes, a little.” No need to mention that he was pretty out of practice and fuck did he want a cigarette.

Jeff only nodded, “That’s pretty cool.”

“more like useful, but yeah. hey, thanks for coming with me. sorry it ended with a bang.”

“Are you kidding?” Jeff laughed. “We got in there, dropped off the package and got back out. That’s some action movie shit right there.”

And that was why he’d asked Jeff for help.

Jeff got off the bus before Stretch and that was fine. He rode the bus for longer than necessary, playing on his phone while the rolling motion soothed him. By the time he got home it was late enough that Edge would be back in an hour.

Edge would be here, safe and warm and…and sane. Yeah. He was here and nowhere else, and Stretch was going to set that thought aside right now before it started twirling through his brain like a sadistic merry-go-round.

Instead, he turned on the oven and took out the foil-covered pan that Edge had put in the refrigerator the night before. If he put it in now, it would be done close to the time Edge walked in the door.

He could have left it at that, certainly Edge wouldn’t expect more. But the apples in the bowl on the counter gave him an idea and google helped him further. Youtube was almost as good as a personal tutor and Stretch followed each direction carefully, coring the apples and filling their hollows with brown sugar and spices.

Cooking wasn’t really that hard, it was just fucking boring. Stretch preferred the results rather than the production, but today it felt good to slide his dish into the oven next to the pan. Soon a faint spicy aroma rose up, sweet apples and cinnamon and it was easy to focus on that, on setting the table, folding the napkins into ridiculously complex shapes that were sure to bring a smile to Edge’s face.

All too soon he heard the front door open and Stretch was quick to finish, settling the fabric crane on Edge’s plate as the kitchen door swung open.

“Hello, love,” Edge’s smile was warm, touched with curiosity.

“dinner’s almost done,” Stretch told him. “i…um, i made dessert. it’s only stuffed apples but i thought…the recipe looked good and—”

That curiosity shifted to something closer to shock and before Stretch could fumble out that he hoped they tasted okay Edge was kissing him, sweetly enough to make him sigh, melting into that gentle touch. Vaguely, he remembered Edge telling him that the pie he’d made for Blue would mean more than anything his brother could make for himself. Seemed like that premise worked on other food, too. It took them a long, reluctant moment to part, Edge only drawing back as the timer went off.

“Let me wash up and we can eat,” he said, turning away.

The food needed to come out of the oven but Stretch still blurted out, “wait!”

Edge paused, his hand on the door.

“i’m glad you’re here. i mean, here in this universe. i…i love you so much,” Stretch blurted. He sounded like an idiot and Edge would probably assume something was bothering him. That was okay, he wasn’t about to guess the truth. That Stretch was helplessly grateful that he was here in this universe, safe in this universe, and even if they’d never…they…he couldn’t even think it. Edge was safe here with him and that was enough.

“I love you, too,” Edge turned away from the door, cupping his jaw carefully in his gloved hands and nuzzled another kiss against his mouth. “Rescue dinner, all right? I’ll be right back.”

“okay,” Stretch muttered and he let Edge go. “okay.” He repeated it again, to himself, as he slipped on the oven mitts and pulled out the foil-wrapped pan first and then the golden apples swimming in their own juices. Okay, it was okay. Edge was here. He was here, and Stretch would keep him safe.

Safe in his home, safe in his arms, right where Edge belonged.

-finis-