#sorry i literally ignored the prompt so bad. it was a TOP FIVE. SORRY

[wisteriagoesvroom]

iiiii think u should write smth heart wrenching. smth awfully sad. like idk. landoscar are robbing toto wolffs massive mansion and one of them get SHOT. but no dying ofc. thats too sad. but a normal level of heart wrenching.

the water sprinkler goes off with a boom. “NAUR!!!!” oscar screams. his crime partner falls to the floor with a shriek, dark brown curls already plastered flat against his forehead.

gold jewellery and a big tube of top secret papers labelled “how to make mercedes great again” rolls, clicky clacky along the tiles.

lando's always been scared of water. he makes an utter scene, spluttering and spitting on the floor and probably waking half the mansion. oscar thinks he has about 6 minutes before susie herself shows up with a f1 academy car and her immaculate bob to run them over. oscar refuses to be written up in the australian tabloids as “f1 driver whose cause of death was getting run over by toto’s wife” so he motivates himself to keep going and finish the job.

oscar uses magical plot-assisted powers to retrieve the jewellery and the papers and uses plot-necessary bluetooth technology (a pin shaped like a papaya) to turn off the water sprinklers.

oscar ignores lando’s vocal protests and fireman-carries lando out of the mansion. “NOOOOO” oscar hears toto shout, howling in an austrian accent to the moon.

later oscar passes lando a big orange towel. osc radios zak and says “i did it. i got us some additional sponsorship money.” osc is not sure how he is going to find a shop that will let him sell the austrian jewels without asking questions. he is pretty sure this is beyond his pay grade but it's fine because he wants to do well for the team. meanwhile zak says “good job im gonna keep sitting at my laptop and doing ceo things now.” osc says “cool please don’t send me on a mission with this lando idiot again.”

lando sits at the steps of their safehouse looking like a drowned cat. lando is smiling despite the chaotic AF events. osc doesn’t like that he finds this endearing.

later, osc asks lando: “why did you pull on the alarm that is clearly marked ALARM. i literally can’t take you anywhere.”

and lando replies “cos i knew you would rescue me of course 🥰🥰”

———————————

(sorry i massacred your prompt and made it a shitpost, but the idea of them tag teaming to rob toto and kind of failing was just too funny to pass up.)

and the only other heartwrenching options that came up in my head for this were (i) lando’s DJ console breaks (ii) oscar is told that due to scheduling issues he cannot go back to australia for five years (iii) neither of them wins the WDC for the next 10 years but somehow mazepin returns to haas and they watch him do so due to an unprecedented level of f1 bribery, bad luck, or some other related insane turn of events. but never say never 'cus the FIA is involved and all.

[twochildreninamoteldemo]

im gonna vent in your askbox i hope thats alright, but genuinely deangirls who are also hellers are so. delusional. like even if someone doesnt "ship" wincest like... incest is a theme of the show? like you cannot meaningfully do analysis of the wincest show without talking about wincest. and when hellers try to make every moment about destiel (even when it would be more apt to talk about wincest, like in the siren episode!!) it just. frustrates me so bad. i feel like samgirls + wincesties have a better understanding of the themes of the show (esp s1-5) like. genuinely.

ok to be frank, i wasn't originally gonna post this and just let it sit in my inbox/be deleted and you got your vent and etc. but i'm gonna use it to push back a little in places i'm frustrated with the wank in this fandom. i'm sorry that it's your ask, anon, that prompted this--i have nothing against you, and completely understand your frustration. however.

(btw, in good faith, i'm going to take your usage of "hellers" to be like extreme destiel-only shippers, not chill destiel shippers, as per the original meaning of the term. also note that everything i say here is based on my experience of the FIRST FIVE SEASONS, aka core spn.)

i agree that incest is a big theme of the show--or i should say, incest subtext. there is no actual incest between the show's main family (aka the winchesters) aside from mary's demon deal. is this due to the network? is this due to kripke's creative vision? we'll never know. it can't be ignored within a full analysis of the show, but to say that one can't have meaningful analysis of the show without discussing the incest subtext ignores the conversation that supernatural has with masculinity/gender, american folklore, race, class, etc--whether these conversations are done well or not. i'm not saying you are doing this, but there is a tendency of wincest shippers, as with destiel shippers, to focus solely on sam and dean's relationship, as if there is literally nothing else that matters in the show, which is just blatantly false and prevents people from having a fuller understanding of the show, just as wincest shippers claim to be frustrated about.

and the other thing is that yes, while i do feel that wincesties (using this broadly to also encompass the entire winchester family) have a better understanding of the show than those who don't engage with the incest subtext, i don't actually think that samgirls or deangirls better understand the show over one another. i know i jokingly make posts about this, but it's mainly out of frustration with the dean-centric hellscape that is what the spn fandom is. the true fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter who your favorite character is, it just matters the way in which you understand their motivations and engage with that. i'm sometimes critical of dean because i love him, but i think a lot of the stuff he does gets glossed over by both the fandom and the show, while sam does enough self-bashing on top of the bashing canon already gives him, resulting in a fandom who, when combined with ignoring him in favor of destiel, doesn't choose to engage with the text critically and question why the narrative repeatedly slams sam but praises dean, when they both are complicated people. but i don't think that means you have to necessarily be a samgirl to fully understand the text. especially if you're ignoring dean's plights and positioning of victimhood/survivorship (as sam is too) because he's just not your favorite character. imo it makes someone just as short-sighted.

[silverstarfics]

Today’s @thunder-pride prompt is ‘can we talk?’ and I’ve had this partly written for a while but didn’t get around to finishing it until this morning, so hopefully it reads okay and doesn’t feel weirdly disjointed in the middle! 

AO3 link

It was approaching eleven-thirty. The pale light of dusk had long since been replaced by the depths of night, yet John had made no move to switch on a lamp. He was still sat at the same tiny table in an equally small kitchen in his apartment and had not moved since his hasty retreat from a restaurant downtown.

His skin was still crawling with discomfort. He couldn’t shake the sight of disappointment in his date’s eyes. If he had to make a list of the top five worst feelings in the world, disappointing people would be in third place. And it hadn’t even been his fault. He hadn’t intentionally led her on. He hadn’t realised that it was a date in the first place, notably because there was supposed to have been four of them, only Kenny had got sick at the last minute and Scott had conveniently had ‘something come up’.

Yeah, right. The flat Earth theory was more believable, not to mention the fact that his brother had then texted him good luck. Also, this was the third night out on which Scott had abandoned him with some random stranger in an excruciatingly romantic setting. Restaurants with friends were fine, but not when it was just you and a person who you only knew vaguely but whom Scott had seemingly befriended despite only having been on campus to visit John for an extended weekend.

The spare key scratched in the lock, then the door squeaked open. Scott fumbled for the light switch and promptly let out an undignified yelp.

“Jeezus, Johnny.” He kicked the door shut and dumped his jacket on the kitchen counter. “What the hell, man? Why are you sitting in the dark?” He winced. “I take it the date didn’t go so well?”

“You set me up.”

John had been aiming for a neutral accusation, but his voice sounded a little more betrayed and upset than he cared to let on. He settled for scowling at Scott, but quickly grew tired of this. Frankly, he was just exhausted full stop. He was half-tempted to forget the whole experience and go to bed early. But he’d learnt that problems didn’t miraculously vanish if you ignored them, which was a shame given that was his preferred strategy. So, if he didn’t discuss this with Scott then it would be a recurring issue and he was so done with unwanted, spontaneous blind dates.

So.

Scott pried open the fridge on the hunt for the beers he’d stashed there earlier. “You make it sound like I framed you for murder.”

Logically, John knew Scott meant well. But his teasing tone was just irritating. He was unintentionally making light of a subject that was actually pretty serious and John sort of wanted to strangle him.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” Scott cracked open the bottle with his key. “Was it that bad? She seemed like a nice girl. You said Adam wasn’t your type, so I figured… Anyway. It’s chill. We’ll find you someone eventually. And hey, I’m here for a few more days. I’m an excellent wingman. Ha, literally.”

“Scott, this isn’t-” John cut himself off and took a deep breath to calm down. He tried again once he was certain that his voice was steadier. “Can we talk?”

“Oh, boy,” Scott joked, slightly muffled as he bent down to unlace his shoes. “Sounds serious.” He glanced up when there was no reply and caught John’s unimpressed stare. “Oh, shit. Okay. Sorry. Give me a minute.”

He kicked his sneakers onto the mat and sank into a chair opposite, cradling his drink between his hands. There was a glint of humour in his eyes, presumably aided by whatever he’d drunk at the bar he’d vanished to for the evening, but to give him credit he did seem to be earnest about listening.

John dropped his gaze to the whorls in the table. There was a faint blue stain from spilled ink when he’d been working formulae out on paper earlier in the semester and he focussed on that to keep himself from overthinking and letting the matter drop again.

“You’ve got to stop trying to set me up with people.”

He was speaking too fast so that the words seemed to blur together, unable to shake the nerves that came with explaining this aspect of his self to people because more often than not they didn’t understand and told him that he just hadn’t found the right person. It was bad enough hearing that from anyone but not from family. He wasn’t sure what to say if Scott didn’t get it.

He continued in a rush before Scott could get a word in edgeways, “I know you mean well, but it makes me really uncomfortable. I don’t want to date anyone. Adam wasn’t my type, but Becca isn’t either, because I don’t have a type. I’m not interested in people like that. I have friends and family and that’s all I want. So, please stop tricking me into dates because it will never lead anywhere.”

There was a brief pause. The silence was broken only by the distant wail of sirens across the city, the hum of the refrigerator and indistinct voices from the apartment across the hallway. John finally risked a glance up to glimpse Scott’s guilty expression.

“Can you say something?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I- Shit, John. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise…” Scott sat back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m an idiot. Sorry. Oh, God, I’m the worst. I spent this whole weekend trying to- I am so sorry, Johnny.”

“That had the potential to be a great apology, but then you had to ruin it by calling me Johnny.”

Scott stared at him for a long moment, evidently trying to repress laughter. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” John stole the bottle and took a cautious sip. “What the hell is this? Are you drinking battery acid? This is disgusting.” He twisted it to spy the label. “I’ve never even heard of this brand. Where did you get it?”

Scott made a vague gesture which translated to you don’t want to know. Which was correct, because John really, really didn’t want to know. He slid the bottle – which most definitely wasn’t beer – back to his brother and got up to find something to rid the taste from his mouth.

“So,” Scott called, still lounging at the table. “How long have you known?”

John shrugged, then realised he was hidden behind the fridge door. “Uh, a while. Since high school, anyway.”

It was slowly dawning on him that he hadn’t actually eaten anything except free bread in the restaurant, shortly before he’d made his excuses and fled. He shoved a box of leftover takeout into the microwave and leant back against the counter to wait.

Scott was staring down at the table where light from the street was spilling through the curtains. There was a certain tension in his shoulders which betrayed the fact he was secretly upset. He didn’t look up as he asked, quietly and uneasily, “Were you afraid to tell me? Because if so, I’m sorry. I never intended to make you feel that way.”

John hesitated, then glimpsed the flash of pure panic in Scott’s eyes.

“No,” he confessed. “I wasn’t afraid of telling you. I’m just tired, I guess. College is… I’m here to learn. A lot of people seem to be here for casual hook ups and parties. So, I’m constantly having to explain that I’m not interested in any of that and after a while it becomes tiring. It’s not a one-time experience. Every time I meet someone new and the topic turns to relationships, I have to… well, come out, I suppose. So, I’m tired of it. But that’s not your fault.”

“I just feel like I should have realised.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I bet Virgil realised.” Scott drummed a hand against the bottle with a sigh. “I thought you were just shy. But now- Yeah, it makes a lot of sense. I still feel like an idiot, though.”

“Oh, you are an idiot,” John informed him. “But not for this reason.”

“Thanks,” Scott deadpanned. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking a little less guilty and more genuinely curious as John carried the takeout over to the table and sat back down. “So, is there a specific label you use?”

John raised a brow. “Do I have to use a label?”

“No,” Scott replied quickly. “I was just wondering. Because if there is, then I want to be able to look it up and do some research. I mean, this is who you are, John. Of course I want to understand that better.”

Sometimes – this weekend being a prime example – Scott could be an absolute idiot. But he was an idiot with good intentions. And, right now, John was reminded that he was actually pretty fond of this idiot for a reason.

“Are you going to remember this?” he asked.

Scott flipped his phone out of his pocket and opened a new note. “Yep.”

“Look up the terms aromantic and asexual. Then come back to me if you have further questions.”

“Cool, cool, cool.”

John offered him a spare fork and slid the takeout into the centre of the table. For a few moments, they ate in silence. He was surprised by just how much lighter he felt, unaware that the issue had been worrying him.

“Hey, John?” Scott had that soft, proud smile again, the same one that he’d worn when watching one of Virgil’s concerts or Gordon’s swim races. “Thanks for telling me.”

John fought back a smile of his own. “No more dates, okay?”

Scott held up his hands. “I promise.”

[andromerot]

Top 5 Mabel moments?

i tried answering this and i decided i will absolutely disregard the top five prompt and just say all of them. sorry.

episode four: the whole treasure hunt is amazing it really got me invested the first time i listened

episode seven: mabel's customer service voice moment. her going off at the king...amazing incredible i love her it was such a good introduction to her

episode eight point five: sometimes i think i would eat you if i could there was a witch in a story who ate a girl she loved and always there afterwards flowers fell from her open mouth i would swallow you up and you would be lobelia on my t

episode thirteen: when we and anna slowly realize who thomas is...ohhhh my god. heartbreaking

episode fourteen: don't you see? how cruel it is to be god?

episode sixteen: the answer is me. anna.

episode seventeen: the fig tree...ohhh my

episode twenty: i thought this is the girl who will eat my heart this is the girl who will come ruin me like fire

episode twenty two: literally EVERYTHING but particularly the "you cannot love me anna i am thorns and mist" monologue, the "all earth fears the purity of fire" "what" "I BROUGHT MY MATCHES WITH ME YOU STUPID USELESS BRANCH", and the moment where she chokes her

episode twenty three: ALL OF IT. ALL OF IT. ITS THE DEFINITION OF LOVE

episode twenty four: everything about ittttt ohhhh my. i've come to barter. one of us has to be the knife. youre the only one that doesnt bore me.we have different ideas of villainy im having a great time. anna and mabel fighting angstily. anna and mabel fighting playfully. and of course. a long time ago you said to me i will love you like a fire loves a forest i said you cannot keep me here and neither of them were true monolgue, one of the first insights into the king and mabels relationship. and ohhh the girls...this is the first time we see them actually together and its literally the middle of the podcast. they are so in love with each other!!! whhjfhj.

episode twenty five: VERATRINE MY BEST FRIEND!!! i love the anna mabel vera dynamic so so much i love themmm i love them. I AM A CREATURE OF MY OWN CREATION AND THAT MAKES ME GOD!!!

episode twenty six: LUNA THORNE. the man sees the girl this is the end of the world. also JACK MADRIGAL!!!

episode twenty seven: the HEARTBREAK the DISTRESS in annas voice when she finds out the extent of sallys cruelty + "it was not your fault, mabel martin" "right, not this time" "nor any other"

episode twenty eight: the whole luna and vera monologue back and forth but especially remember your own birth and is this what its like to be a mother is this what its like to be in love ALSO THE MORSE CODE <33

episode twenty nine: mabel going off at vera and anna being like whoagh i love my wife.

episode thirty: OOUGH. anna limon conquistador of my estate anna limon with the hand of god...and well. the spell anna did...ill never see her ill never know her not in this world. OH AND LUNA AND VERA RUNNING OFF TOGETHER...what then veratrine you i think...

episode thirty one: UAUAUAUAGH underrated fav. this is a nation haunted by its fictions for what do we eat if not history!!! what feeds our engines if not fairy tales!!! owning miss silver...

episode thirty two: UM EVERYTHING. the whole confrontation..."i name mabel martin my right hand my revolutionary my queen" "king"...the Acorn Of The World...brandon...and of course. this is you undiminished look at you.

infinity mirror: i love all of it but my highlights are the yew berries story, the phone call (heheh evil mabelanna moment) (farewell small girl), the way tressas isolation and dissociation starts to mirror late s1 anna and the way her tangents seem to imitate mabels, i sit with hares all unaware...the mourning dove story is heartbreaking...and then the bleeding doll house ohhhh...AND THE FINAL MONOLOGUE!! i unstitch myself from both of you...does the snake eat her own tail she does she does!!! ughh i just love im so so much

ok im gonna reblog this w s6 and s7 favs. because im getting close to the character limit. what am i doinggg

[jaskierswolf]

Prompt: Geraskier modern au. Jaskier bringing Geralt home on holiday. They’re pretending to date so Jaskier’s parents won’t bombard him asking when he’ll find someone and when they’ll have grandkids. Maybe even a fake engagement? They’re both pining without even realizing and maybe a mistletoe kiss on Christmas Eve will open their eyes. (geraskier-trashh)

Dani <3 I always seem to vibe with your prompts! Once again this is 2.3k. I didn’t get the mistletoe in but... well. I’m pretty happy with it. Fake dating at Christmas!! 💖

Warnings: Some hurt/comfort feels, I’m pretty sure everyone cries at one point or another, lots of pining. ______________

Jaskier and Geralt stood in the doorway to Jaskier’s old childhood room. One single bed was pushed up against the wall, posters of Jaskier’s old favourite bands plastered around the room. Jaskier was gripping Geralt’s hand too tightly, having not let go from when he’d dragged Geralt upstairs to get away from the interrogation of his family. Geralt let out a long sigh and pulled them both into the room, dumping his rucksack on the ground in the corner.

“Ah, I. umm…. I seem to have miscalculated,” Jaskier stammered.

“No shit.”

“I thought, you know. Huge mansion!” He flung his arms out as if to make a point. “I didn’t expect that we’d have to… you know.”

“It didn’t occur to you that it might look strange if we don’t share?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier huffed and put his hands on his hips, tossing his fringe from his eyes. Geralt was moving around the tiny room, his banged up bass case finding space next to Jaskier’s violin, his black hoody thrown over the old desk chair in the corner. Jaskier felt a tug at his heartstrings as he watched Geralt carve out a space for himself in Jaskier’s old bedroom, just like he’d carved out a Geralt sized space in Jaskier’s hearts oh so many years ago. Jaskier flexed his fingers and pulled his necklace pendant into his mouth, this was such a bad idea. What had he been thinking?

It was own bloody fault for lying to his parents for years behind Geralt’s back. It had just been so hard with their constant pressure to find a partner whilst he was pining helplessly over his best friend, so he’d lied and for five years he’d managed to find excuses for avoiding the family Christmas meet up. This year his luck had run out and he’d had to come clean to his friend. He’d thought Geralt was going to murder him at first, his face had gone bright red with rage and he’d not said a bloody word, which was just Geralt all over. Over a tense dinner of instant noodles and boxed wine, Geralt had muttered that he’d do it… and so, here they were.

“Yeah, well, I forgot.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You forgot? That you’d told your parents that we’ve been dating for five years?”

“Six years… Our anniversary was two weeks ago,” Jaskier muttered, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and giving Geralt a sheepish smile.

“Our anniversary? For fuck’s sake, Jask.”

“I’m sorry! I meant to tell them we’d broken up but—”

“But what?”

“—but they always seemed so happy that I wasn’t alone, and to be honest it was nice.”

Geralt scoffed. “Nice?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I. I didn’t feel so alone.”

Geralt sighed and pulled him into a hug. Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s chest and whined. “You’re my best friend, Jask.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, grateful that Geralt couldn’t see his face. He could feel the lump in his throat, a dull never-ending ache in his chest. Best friend. That’s what they were, he should be thankful that Geralt allowed him that much, but fuck he loved him so damn much. No matter how much Jaskier flirted with Geralt, called him cute little nicknames, and practically admitted his love for his friend on a daily basis… Geralt never saw him as anything more than a friend, but god he drove Jaskier mad. He was always so damned thoughtful all the time, cooking dinner when Jaskier was at work even though Jaskier could never return the favour, hence the instant noodles for dinner, or letting Jaskier choose the film when he’d had a bad anxiety day, which happened more often than he liked to admit.

Geralt was his best friend, he was the bestest friend that anyone could ask for so really Jaskier couldn’t complain. He was just… hopelessly in love.

He laughed and pulled back from the hug. “Don’t you mean boyfriend?” He waggled his eyebrows and bopped Geralt’s nose.

“Hmm, fine, but we have got to break up by next year.”

Jaskier’s hand flew to his heart, gasping as he totally pretended to be completely heartbroken. There wasn’t an ounce of reality in the way his heart literally felt like it was shattering in a million pieces. He scoffed, covering up the way his hands were shaking by tugging at the edge of his jumper. “Fine, but I get to dump you.”

“Nope, it’s your mess. I’m breaking up with you,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and glared at Geralt. “As if you would break up with this arse!” He laughed and turned to wiggle his butt at Geralt.

“I’ve seen better.”

Jaskier gasped and turned to poke Geralt in the chest. “Take that back!”

“Not going to happen.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier flung himself dramatically into Geralt’s arms, Geralt caught him as he always did, and Jaskier pouted up at him. “You’re mean.”

“Are you boys fighting already?”

Jaskier squeaked as Geralt dropped him to the floor. His mother was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a smirk on her face. “No. No no no. Of course not, nope. Geralt?”

“No, Mrs Pankratz.” Geralt pulled him to his feet and Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“All good here, mother!”

“Dinner’s ready, hurry up.”

“We’ll be there in just a jiffy!” Jaskier sang as he leant into Geralt’s side. As his mother’s footsteps faded off down the hall he reached up to whisper in Geralt’s ear, “Showtime, darling.”

Geralt groaned. “Fuck.” ________________

Dinner wasn’t going too badly. Luckily Geralt and Jaskier had been best friends for most of their lives so there wasn’t much they didn’t know about each other. Honestly the only thing really missing from their friendship to make it more of a traditionally romantic one was the snogging. They went out of friend dates all the time, they lived together, and in all honesty they loved each other. Jaskier just made sure to double the use of pet names in front of his family, and he allowed himself to touch Geralt as much as he wanted, which was pretty much always. They held hands on top of the table, awkwardly eating one handed. Jaskier brought Geralt’s knuckles to his lips in between main and dessert, winking at his friend. It was so fucking easy to believe this was real. For two days he was getting everything he ever wanted. He was going to be heartbroken when this was over.

Geralt flushed and growled under his breath before kissing Jaskier’s cheek, much to delight of Jaskier’s parents.

“Julian, you know we won’t be offended if you want to kiss your boyfriend properly?”

Jaskier’s heart sank and he gripped Geralt’s hand tighter. They hadn’t discussed this. They really should have discussed this, but Jaskier had assumed two days without kissing in front of his parents would have been fine. Of course, his mother would decide to be cool. “Mother, really?” He groaned and hid his face in Geralt’s arm.

“You’ve been dating for six years, Julian. Your father had proposed by then when we were dating,” his mother sighed and smiled ever so sweetly at his father. “Don’t be shy, honey.”

“Mother!” Jaskier whined.

Geralt cleared his throat and Jaskier gazed up at his friend. There was a mischievous glint in Geralt’s eyes that Jaskier did not like the look of. He shook his head slowly at Geralt but it was too late. “Actually, Mrs Pankratz. I umm… I did have something to ask Jaskier,”

“Geralt…”

“The umm… well I wrapped it, but I guess now is as good as ever,” Geralt stood up and pulled Jaskier into the living room, ignoring his protests. Geralt pulled a small wrapped box from the tree, kneeling at Jaskier’s feet as he hand him the box.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide… what the actual fuck was happening? Jaskier thought back to his Christmas list. It was mostly nerdy shit and stuff for his instruments… nerdy shit. “Oh bollocks!” He yelled as he remembered a very specific piece of costume jewellery he’d asked for.

Was Geralt about to fake propose using the ring… like… the ring…  from Lord of the Rings? Oh god, he was going to die from embarrassment. Jaskier’s hands shook as he tore at the wrapping paper. The velvety box fell into his hands, the familiar Elvish inscription was pressed into the black velvet. He hid a laugh behind his hand as Geralt gently took the box and opened it. Jaskier barely heard the shrieks from his mother as Geralt winked at him.

“Jask, the last,” Geralt paused and scowled “six years of my life have been the happiest of my life.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, his heart thumping in his chest despite the fact he knew it wasn’t real.

“I’m thankful that I finally stopped being afraid of what I felt, feel, for you, and umm, well asked you out,” Geralt licked his lips, he actually seemed nervous, which was utterly ridiculous. He was a better actor than Jaskier had anticipated. “Can’t imagine how different today would have been if I hadn’t made the choice that day, the choice to be brave instead of a coward.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but reach forward to cup Geralt’s cheek, his hand moving on its own accord. “You’re the bravest man I know.”

Geralt laughed bitterly. “Not always, but ah fuck, you distracted me.”

“Sorry?” Jaskier giggled. “Would it help if I said yes?”

“Yes,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier knelt down opposite Geralt. “Yes.”

And then they were kissing, because that was what you did when you got engaged, wasn’t it? Only they weren’t really engaged, they weren’t even dating. Tears streamed down Jaskier’s cheeks as he kissed his friend with all the feelings that he could never admit, holding Geralt’s face in his hands. They were both panting by the time they pulled apart. “I love you, dear heart.”

Geralt, to Jaskier’s surprise, was also crying. He smiled sadly back at Jaskier as he brushed the tears from Jaskier’s cheek. “I love you too, Jask.” And then he slipped the ring onto Jaskier’s finger.

Jaskier swallowed and bit back a sob. “Fuck.”

Geralt tilted his head and glanced towards the ceiling. Jaskier nodded, hugging his arms around his chest. “I think we need a moment alone,” Geralt muttered and scooped Jaskier up into his arms.

Jaskier mother, also crying because apparently Christmas Eve dinner was a disaster, nodded. “Take all the time you need, darlings."

Geralt nodded and Jaskier hummed pressing his face into Geralt’s neck, desperately trying not to lose his grip on reality. They weren’t engaged. The mantra ran through his head obsessively. One more day, they would exchange presents, maybe a standard kiss under the mistletoe and then by next year’s Christmas Geralt would have broken up with him, and Jaskier’s parents would be none the wiser that it had all been a ruse.

A ruse, an pretence, an act.

Only it wasn’t an act, not for him.

“Fucking shit balls,” He mumbled into Geralt’s shirt as his bedroom door was kicked open. Jaskier practically leapt from Geralt’s arms and into the mess of bedsheets, hiding from the love of his life and pseudo fiancé.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry. I took it too far.” Geralt mumbled, sitting down on the bed next to where Jaskier was curled into a ball.

“No,” Jaskier mumbled. “I just overreacted, I… ah fuck it. I wanted it to be real. I’m sorry!”

“You,” Geralt stammered. “You wanted it to be real?”

Jaskier laughed haughtily and threw off the covers, wiping his eyes and glaring at Geralt. “Of course I fucking did. I told my parents we were dating… for six fucking years!”

“And you never once mentioned any of this to me?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Because I couldn’t lose you!”

“I didn’t want to lose you either.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide as he gaped at Geralt. “Hang on what? What does that mean? Geralt? Please do not tell me that means what I think it means!”

“I love you,” Geralt whispered “always have.”

“No, no no no!” Jaskier whined as his head hit the headboard. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

Jaskier laughed, the disbelief and sheer happiness in his heart overwhelming him. “Oh my fucking god, Geralt!” Geralt growled and stood up but Jaskier caught his hand. “Don’t you see?”

“No, care to let me into the joke?”

“We could have been dating for years!” Jaskier cried and then slapped a hand over his mouth, not wanting his parents to hear their argument. “This,” he waved his left hand at Geralt. “could have been real?”

Geralt frowned, his gaze flickering between Jaskier’s hand and his eyes. He sighed and a faint smiled graced his lips. “Maybe we should try dating first? Proposing on the first date is a bit much.”

Jaskier laughed and pulled Geralt into another kiss, his tears ones of happiness this time. He stroked Geralt’s cheek as they pulled apart. “What about the second date?”

“Jask,” Geralt groaned.

“Ok, the third date,” He laughed and Geralt shut him up with another quick kiss.”

“Your turn to propose,” Geralt mumbled against his lips as Jaskier slipped his hand up Geralt’s shirt.

“I don’t think I can beat proposing with the ring, dearest,” He giggled as Geralt pushed him back against the mattress, his nose running along Jaskier’s jaw.

“You’ll think of something.”

Jaskier grinned as Geralt’s lips crashed against his. He would think of something, something spectacular, but for now he was too busy kissing his boyfriend, grand marriage proposals would have to wait until next Christmas. They could make it a tradition. ________________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi @llamasdumpsterfire @skai6

[sgtbradfords]

If you’re taking Chenford prompts - “please don’t do this” OR “did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

I apologize for the long wait anon but, I am back to working through my ask box (also, huge thank you to those who are still patiently waiting!) how ever slowly that may be because my muse likes to hide. This is an AU and I hope you enjoy! 

It was early on a Tuesday morning when Lucy Chen pulled her car into her unofficial parking spot around back. She sighed, cursing under her breath at the asshole who felt the need to call her and require her presence over an hour before her alarm was set to go off.

Lucy stepped out of the car, slamming the door in haste before walking around to the front of the building where she found a man in blue standing on the sidewalk, typing away on the phone in his hand.

Lucy cleared her throat, not wanting to startle the officer.

“Ms. Chen? Officer Bradford, sorry about the early wake up call.” He introduced himself as he placed the smart device into the pocket of his kevlar vest.

“Lucy, and I appreciate the call. Looks like a simple 459.”

The officer looked at her in surprise before masking his expression. “You know your penal codes.”

“I minored in criminal justice at Cal State.” She told him as she looked at the broken window that laid shattered along her storefront. “Was anything taken?”

The man crossed his arms, nodding. “Nothing that I could find, but you can look for yourself. The alarm company notified dispatch at 04:23, I arrived on scene at 04:28 and cleared the building.”

Lucy pulled the ring of keys out of her bag, flipping through the different metals before finding the one to unlock the front door. She pulled the metal door back, the bottom catching on a few stray pieces of glass, scrapping them across the concrete. The hint of something sweet engulfed her sense of smell as she stepped into the shop, flipping the light switch on the left wall up, watching as the light lit up the small dining area. Lucy was proud of her little hole in the wall bakery, one that she had literally poured her blood, sweat and tears into over the past five years that had slowly gained popularity and a following.

“How’d you get into all of this?” Officer Bradford asked from behind as she looked around at the destruction that had become her shop.

“By chance really.” She shrugged, walking towards the counter. “I was studying for my Applied Psychophysiology midterm and had a really bad craving for chocolate cake at two in the morning. I had all the ingredients so threw them into a bowl and what began as a hobby turned into a career.”

“Applied psychophysiology?”

“I majored in Psychology.” Lucy told him as he moved closer, the glass that littered the floor, crunching under his boots. “The cash drawer is open, but yesterday was my deposit day so there wasn’t much to take.”

Lucy turned towards the office that was located on the far side. “I keep the cash in the office safe after close.” She told him as he snapped a picture on his phone for the report, finding the door kicked in at the knob.

“Looks to be premeditated.” He suggested.

“Or someone who cased the place beforehand.” She countered.

A twenty-minute meticulous walk through later and Lucy could only find a few things missing, luckily no cash as she flipped on the switches for the ovens in the kitchen, allowing the machines time to preheat to baking temperature.

“You’re still opening?”

“The bills are not going to pay themselves Officer Bradford.” She smiled.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I will call my insurance adjuster later this morning but I’ve got full coverage so a B&E should be covered.”

“What about the gaping hole in the front?”

Lucy sighed as she grabbed the apron off the hook on the wall. “I’ll figure it out I guess. Thank you Officer Bradford.”

“Tim.”

Lucy smiled again, nodding her head as she grabbed the dustpan and broom from the corner of the room. “Then thank you Tim.”

Four hours later and a steady stream of customers craving pastries later Lucy was finally able to release a sigh, running her fingertips over her forehead to brush away the stray strands of hair.

“Katlyn! Yell if you need me, I’m going to go call the adjuster from my office.” Lucy told her friend and coworker as she left the kitchen. She turned the corner, walking through the open doorway when a noise from outside startled her.

“What the hell?” She thought aloud as she moved towards the now boarded up store front.

Lucy pulled the front door towards her, stepping out just in time as another screw was driven into the plywood.

“Officer- Tim.” She said with her hands on her hips, stopping beside the metal ladder.

The man in question finished turning the metal into the wood, placing the electric drill down on the top step as he climbed down.

“Lucy.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, following him to the back of the truck that was parallel parked by the curb.

Tim shrugged. “Temporarily fixing your window.”

“I see that, but you didn’t have to do that. I have a friend coming-“

“It’s no problem.”

Lucy sighed, closing her eyes. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

Lucy opened her eyes, giving him an incredulous look. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you but yet you’re here fixing a stranger’s problem?”

Tim leaned back against the tailgate, drumming his fingers along the lining. “You’re baking, it’s decent.”

The baker raised a brow. “Decent?”

The off-duty officer sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah decent.”

“So, you’ve been to my shop before?”

“Tim!” A voice yelled as he went to reply, the person moving closer as they walked out of the bakery. “What are you doing here?”

“Tamara, shouldn’t you be in school.” He glared, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s a maintenance day. And before you ask, no I have not gotten into trouble recently and yes, all of my homework is done.”

Lucy looked back and forth between the two. “You two know each other?”

“She stole a car.”

“He’s officer Zaddy.”

They each told Lucy, speaking over top of one another.

“I didn’t steal the car!” defended Tamara. “It’s not stealing if you return it.”

“It’s still theft Tee.” Lucy said, rolling her eyes. “So, you’re the big bad officer that’s been helping out Tamara? Nice to finally put a face with the name.”

“He’s the one who comes in every morning at 7:40 on the dot and orders the bear claw with a large black coffee.”

Tim scowled at the teen as recognition hit Lucy.

“It’s not always a bear claw.” He defended before looking back at Lucy.  “How do you know Tamara?”

“Jackson West, he mentioned she was down on her luck and well, I can always use the extra help.”

“You’re the one keeping her out of trouble?” He asked as Lucy nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I am. You know, she kind of grows on you.”

Tamara sighed. “I’m standing right here.”

Tim ignored the teen. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just like you didn’t have to fix my window. Thanks for that by the way.” She gestured towards the now covered window. “I was just fixing to call the adjuster.”

“It just needs a few more screws and I’ll be done.”

“You don’t have to go!” She spoke quickly. “I mean when- when you get done, feel free to come in and get whatever you want, it’s on the house.” Lucy told him turning away as her cheeks burned, leaving him chuckling on the sidewalk.

Tamara snorted as Lucy pushed her towards the door, the teen holding the door open against her back as she smirked. “If I knew you and Bradford would hit it off like that, I would have introduced you two to each other months ago.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I believe there are dirty dishes in the sink that I am paying you to wash Tee.”

The teen pouted. “But this is so much more fun.”

“Tamara, you’re not getting involved.”

“Fine.” She conceded. “But when you two get married I want all the credit.”

Lucy shook her head, glancing back at the blue eyes that was following her every move. Sometimes fate has a way of weird way of making paths cross.

[theeerealpunkin]

Blue and Grey (Intrulogical)

Heya peeps! Since so many people seemed to like this, I thought I’d make a short One-Shot about one of the headcannons specifically

I didn’t want to make it too long so sorry if it sucks or something

Pairing: Intrulogical (Remus x Logan) 

Prompt: Logan died his bangs blue when Roman made fun of Remus one too many times for the grey streak

"Ever heard of hair brushes? One of those could fix the mess that's living on your head."

Logan shook his head. This was getting ridiculous.

"What? There's nothing living there. Though now that you said it, that is actually a really good idea.."

"Remus? Remus what are you thinking about?!"

There was a slight panic in the Princes' voice and Logan knew without looking up that Roman had gone pale.

Next was a shriek and it was almost impossible to keep his posture and act ignorant to the twins antics.

"All I wanted was for you to brush your hair every once in a while!", Roman screamed while fleeing the living room, Remus right behind him. "Stop telling it to attack me!!"

Logan just sighed, ignoring the feeling of warmth when Remus made eyecontact with him and send him a sly grin.

..

"Why can't you just fix it?"

Logan took a deep breath.

"Why can't you just fix your face?"

"We have the same face, you idiot!"

He counted to ten, his eyes closed and hands balled to fists.

"I'm still the hotter twin."

"Oh yeah? Well, uh.. at least I wasn't thrown away as a kid!"

He counted to hundred, hoping the anger would dissappear by the time he opened his eyes back up. 

..

"It just.. it looks so wrong, can't you see that?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the book in his lap.

"Does not. You look wrong."

He had to fight back a smile at that. Remus always made sure that his insults sounded more like what a kindergartener would say than the literal embodiment of Intrusive thoughts, painfully aware of how easy it was to destroy Romans ego.

"At least I'm not the one that IS wrong."

The smile vanished. The same couldn't be said for his brother.

..

"Why is it even grey? Are you secretly one of those, like, old dudes that scream at kids?"

Things were usually calmer when Virgil participated in their regular bickering, neither of the brothers wanted to skyrocket his anxiety after all.

"HAH! I'd give them nightmares for the following weeks!"

'No, you wouldn't.', Logan thought with a smirk hidden behind his book. Remus had a soft spot for kids, always telling Thomas to make funny faces at every kid they saw on the streets.

"And that is exactly why we warn the children on my side of the Imagination about you. No child would survive longer than five minutes in your care."

Remus flinched and even Virgil looked a bit shocked at Romans words.

Logan calmly placed his book next to him on the couch and stood up.

"Remus, I hate to interrupt, but I need some assistance with an experiment. Would you mind 'lending me a hand'? Was that correct?"

Virgil nodded absentmindedly, apparently still not sure how to react to the scene in front of him.

Remus' shoulders dropped, but he forced a big grin on his face before shuffling over to Logan who immediately took his hand and sunk them out to his room where Remus crashed into him, hugging him as if his life depended on it.

Logan sighed.

..

"No no, I'm intrigued, don't get me wrong. I just don't understand how you plan on backing up the point you have been making for the last five minutes?"

Logan looked up at Remus expectantly, who had his tongue stuck out between his teeth. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but the other side looked simply adorable. His hair and mustache were messes, having just woken up, still clothed in nothing but a green tank top and black boxershorts.

"Are you seriously asking me to give you reasons to leave your bed and get coffee? Coffee?"

As often, his eyes seemed to be stuck to the grey streak in the others hair and he had to literally fight down the urge to run his fingers through it.

There was just something about that streak.. Logan couldn't even tell what it was, but-

"Coffee, Logan. Coffee."

His lips stretched in a small smile, coffee did sound pretty good. But then again, so did staying in bed, his face pressed against Remus' chest and his arms around his torso.

"Argh, I can't say no to you when you're so adorable! You have no right to be so cute! I should cut off your lips then you can't smile like that anymore and-"

Logan pulled Remus back down, effectively silencing him with a kiss.

His hands moved up to play with the curly mess that was his boyfriends hair almost immediately.

Remus grinned against his lips. "You have a hair fetish, you know that right? I didn't even know that exists unti-"

Logan just kissed him again.

..

It really was only a matter of time before Roman noticed his looks. Of course, the other sides knew about their relationship. Remus was incredibly affectionate after all. And if Remus was set on cuddling, there really was nothing Logan could do to stop him.

But once Roman noticed how Logans eyes kept returning to Remus hair, the temporarily forgotten discussions started anew.

He didn't understand what it was that irked Roman about the others hair. Sure, it was a mess, brown locks standing up in every direction, leaves or sometimes short sticks (or.. other stuff Logan didn't want to think about) stuck in the curls, but he failed to see how that was any of Romans business.

Especially the streak seemed to bother him. Over time, the Princes' comments turned from friendly stabs into more.. hurtful things. And Logan felt like punching Roman in the face for every night that a still very unstable Remus cried himself to sleep next to him. He had changed so much to be accepted, tried to keep his thoughts to himself, bathed regularly (even though he hated it and would rather just spend entire days in the Imagination in his octopus form) and he even ate regularly, reserving the deodorant for really, really bad days.

Logan found that it hurt, to see Remus change everything that made him, well, Remus, only for it to not be enough, never be enough for the only side he really wanted to impress.

And he was about fed up with Roman for making his brother feel bad about being himself.

His hand moved through Remus hair, delicately entangling the knots that always seemed to be there, fingers softly running through the grey streak and his heart broke when Remus flinched away.

"I should just.. get rid of it.."

Logan closed his eyes so Remus wouldn't see the fury that surely burned in them.

..

"What are you doing here, you lovable nerd? And why the beanie? Are you hiding something?" Remus' eyes lit up a bright green for a second. "Did someone cut off all your hair while you were sleeping? Or did it fall off? Is it splotchy or are you just completely bald? Or-"

Logan pressed his lips against Remus', effectively disrupting the stream of thoughts that went through the others head.

Remus sent him a small grin. "Thanks"

Logans heart jumped a little in his chest, despite being anatomically impossible.

"You look good in the beanie, by the way.", Remus pulled the other side closer, wrapping both his arms around Logan in the process. "I still wanna know what you're doing here though. There are monsters round here, you know?"

"Oh I know." Logan grinned right back at him. "I also know that you already told everyone on this side of the Imagination that you'd kill them if they lay a hand on me."

"Oh, you know that, huh?"

Oh, this stupid adorable shy look on Remus would be the end of him! Any moment now, Logan would fall over and die of a heart attack or something like that.

"But to answer your other question.." Ignoring the soft blush on his cheeks, Logan slowly pulled the beanie down, his eyes figuratively glued to the ground. When Remus didn't react for a few moments, doubt and regret spread in his chest.

Oh, this had been a stupid idea. He was making a fool out of himself. Remus was probab-

"woah"

And then Logans eyes shot open again and he forgot to breath for a few seconds.

Remus was running his fingers through his bangs, incredibly gentle, his eyes opened wide- wider than humanly possible-, lips slightly parted.

Logan leaned into the soft contact, stress leaving his body slowly.

A sigh escaped him, moving the freshly blue died bangs around a bit.

"Wow!", Remus eventually forced out around the lump in his throat. "I thought you'd never dye your hair?"

Logan shrugged, the shy smile on his face, the one that only Remus got to see, the one that made Remus fall for him over and over again.

"I know it looks different and might take some time to get used to, but.." In one motion, Logan run his fingers through the streak in the other sides hair. "I don't.. care what the others think. I just want you to be happy. And if this is what it takes for Roman to finally shut up?"

He pulled Remus closer, who still looked at him in complete awe, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"I'd dye my hair a different color every day for the rest of my life if that makes you happy, Rem."

"You.. you are the sappiest, perfectest side I've ever met." Remus eventually answered, eyes still glued to the new color in Logans hair, voice softer than usual. "And I'm gonna kiss you now cause I have no idea how to thank you for something like that.."

Logan just let himself be pulled in the arms of the walking furnace of a side and smiled against his lips.

..

Roman didn't dare say anything about the new color the next day.

Or the day after that, when Virgil came down for breakfast with freshly colored purple bangs, sending both Remus and Logan a small smile and a thumbs up.

Taglist:

@nicerockinkid

[pregnant-piggy]

Summer Games - three

Blaise Zabini x reader

masterlist

warnings: no pronouns used for the reader, 

A/N: I had so much fun writing this part and coming up with all the stupid things! I really hope you like it :)

written for @omgrachwrites​​​ writing challenge with the prompts: ‘I can’t have this argument with you again.’ ‘But—’ ‘No, I’m done.’ and ‘Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought  I should move it so I could see you better.’

word count: 3.9k

The next morning Blaise awoke before Draco and rather than waking his friend too, Blaise got dressed in silence and slipped out of the room. He walked down to the kitchen, where he found you sitting at the table with a mug in your hands, reading the morning papers.

‘Might rain this afternoon,’ you said without looking up.

Blaise hummed something as he sat down opposite of you and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked up and studied your face as you read the newspaper. Your eyes scanned the pages quickly, picking out the things worth reading. Blaise watched you for a few minutes until you had finished and looked up at him.

‘What you’re doing?’ he asked when you kept looking at him.

‘Looking at you,’ you smiled.

Blaise chuckled nervously. ‘I noticed that, yeah. But why?’

‘I’m probably not gonna see you all day,’ you shrugged. ‘Don’t wanna forget that pretty face of yours.’

Blaise straightened his back and blinked. ‘Don’t wanna—’

‘Good morning, lovelies!’ Pansy interrupted as she threw open the door of the kitchen and strode in.

Blaise was still turned to you and watched as you hugged Pansy shortly before she sat down next to you. She poured herself some coffee and looked at Blaise.

‘Blaise, stop staring, that’s rude,’ Pansy said and she waved her hand in front of Blaise’s face.

He quickly looked away from you and shot Pansy a nasty look before he turned to his coffee.

‘Pansy don’t bug him,’ you scolded and shot Blaise a kind smile. ‘It’s only morning.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Pansy said and she waved your words away with her hand. ‘I won’t bug him until later this day.’ She took a sip from her coffee and pulled a face before quickly scooping two spoons of sugar in her cup. ‘Where’s Draco?’

‘Still asleep,’ Blaise muttered. ‘I considered hexing him awake, but I still have to sleep here for two nights and Draco with a grudge is not someone you want to sleep next to.’

‘I am not that bad,’ a grumpy voice at the doorframe said. Draco walked into the room and flopped down on the chair next to Blaise. ‘Coffee, please.’

‘Sure, you’re not that bad,’ you snickered as you poured coffee in Draco’s mug.

While Draco drank his coffee, you told your friends what Game today would be. ‘It’s the last day before the winner gets announced. Yesterday while we were at the lake the other half of the teams played games in the fields. Before we set off today we’ll get the ranking so far, so you know what team to beat.’

‘But what are we doing today?’ Pansy asked.

A big smile spread on your face. ‘It’s the best Game of the whole festival. The organisation has put out a big scavenger hunt. It goes through the whole village and we have to solve riddles and collect things. You’ll get a list with things to collect and usually the team splits up in little groups and each group gets a part of the list.’

‘What sort of things do we have to collect? Because I’m really not interested in breaking my back from carrying a lot,’ Draco said.

‘I don’t know,’ you replied. ‘Usually there’s a theme to the hunt. My grandma helps to put it together and previous years she’d tell me what the theme was but she hasn’t this year.’

‘So we’ll just go around town collecting things? Isn’t that boring?’

Your smile faltered a bit and Blaise kicked Draco under the table. ‘Don’t listen to him, he’s a jerk in the morning. It sounds fun!’

You smiled thankfully at Blaise and after Pansy also reassured you that it sounded great, your smile was back on your face, and it stayed there for the rest of the morning.

/\/\/\

The scavenger hunt had officially started. A little earlier the scores of the teams had been disclosed; the Sly Foxes were on top with only two points difference between them and the Red Titans. Next were the Oiled Machines and at the bottom the Raging Angels. But just by a few points so all could change with the scavenger hunt.

The organisation had handed out the lists with the things to collect and the theme had quickly been clear.

Book of Spells … 7 pts

Iron Cauldron … 15 pts

Vial with Sleeping Potion … 12 pts

Witch Hat … 5 pts

Unnecessarily the woman of the organisation had added that the theme of this year’s hunt was ‘magic’ and both Blaise and Draco had had to refrain their laughter at the stereotypical items they had to collect. There was a whole list on ingredients for potions that no real wizard would ever think of using, such as goat milk and rabbit turds. Apparently Muggles still thought of witches as old, weary women in little shacks in the woods.

Blaise and Draco had been teamed up with three other Foxes. Neither of them knew any of the three, but after his little spat with Alysia two days ago, Blaise was more than happy that he wasn’t in her team.

The oldest of their team was Ivanna, a woman of thirty-four with a pale face and sleek brown hair. Despite the heat she was wearing long trousers and a jacket over her shirt. She’d told the rest of the team that she had a little baby of just two months old, so that if she seemed tired it meant she probably was.

The second of the three was the twenty-three year old student Mica. They had a dark golden skin and black, curly hair that had been cut short and dyed blue in the ends. Under the blue bangs lay two dark eyes that glittered with excitement and competitiveness. Mica was a student in London, but they had come back to the town where they’d grown up for the Summer Games.

The last teammate was the very young Raoul. He was the son of the man Draco and Blaise had met the first day of the festival at the stand with the cherry pastries, Hank. Raoul was just eleven years old, but he brought a childlike enthusiasm with him that made everyone in the team energized.

They were by far the youngest team, as all the other teams had the more aged villagers, so they called themselves the Sly Pups. Quickly they set to work and looked at the items on their list.

‘Does this make any sense to you?’ Ivanna asked as she handed the list to Blaise and Draco.

Errn rq srwlrqv … 7 pts

Eurrpvwlfh … 17 pts

Fordn … 9 pts

Fdqgohv .. 10 pts

‘I don’t get it,’ Draco said to the rest of the team and then he whispered to Blaise: ‘You didn’t take Ancient Runes, did you?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Blaise answered and he looked at the sheet in his hand. ‘But I doubt these are runes.’

Blaise looked around at the rest of the Sly Foxes but they didn’t seem to have the same problems, as they were already heading off. Then he looked at the other teams on the field and realised that from each team one group would stay bent over their list while the others took off. In one of the remaining teams Blaise recognised you and Pansy.

‘You don’t think it’s a mistake, do you?’ Ivanna asked with frowned eyebrows.

‘No, the other teams have it too,’ Blaise said and he nodded to the three groups left behind around them.

‘Wait, this one we can read!’ Mica said and pointed out the first line on the paper. ‘”To understand the magic you must always think three steps ahead.” What does that mean?’

The whole team silenced as they thought about the possible meaning of the sentence. Raoul looked around on the ground as if he would find the answer literally three steps ahead of him. For minutes it was quiet and Blaise’s annoyance grew.

To make his irritation even worse two of the other teams around them, including your team, had found the solution to the weird texts and were now running off the field. Blaise let out an exasperated sigh and he shook his head.

‘It can’t be this hard,’ Draco said.

‘It’s some sort of secret language, but I don’t understand the three steps,’ Mica admitted and they rubbed their temples with their knuckles.

‘My dad taught me a secret language once,’ Raoul said. ‘So we could write each other without my other dad finding out. We changed each letter with the one next in the alphabet.’

‘Of course!’ Mica exclaimed and they took the paper from Blaise. ‘Does someone have a pen?’

Ivanna gave Mica a pen and they turned Draco around to use his back. ‘What are you doing?’ Draco snapped but Mica ignored him as they started to write the alphabet on the top of the paper.

‘Look, it’s actually really easy,’ they said. ‘Each letter is swapped for a letter three steps ahead in the alphabet! Just like Raoul said!’

‘So that would mean that the e in the first word is actually a…’

‘A b!’ Mica completed Blaise’s sentence. ‘So the first word is… book… on… pot—potions! We have to find a potions book!’

‘I’ve got one of those in my bag,’ Draco muttered, but Blaise kicked him softly on his leg.

‘We have to go the library!’ Raoul said and he ran off.

‘Raoul! Wait a minute! Not so fast!’ Ivanna yelled after him and the group quickly followed the little boy.

/\/\/\

Your team had quickly figured out the solution to the weird text and found a potions book in the library, accompanied by a little paper with the next clue. Now you were sitting on the wall around the garden of the library with your team.

On your right sat Pansy and on your left Quincy. Quincy was your grandparents’ neighbour and you knew him very well so you were glad he was on your team. He was fifty-five and he had studied philosophy at the university in the nearest big city when he was younger. You hoped his intelligence would be applicable in the hunt, and so far it had for he had figured out the secret language.

Opposite of you stood Chantelle, the forty-two year old town’s librarian. Despite her being in her early forties she looked much older. She had a wrinkled face and neck and always stared at you with big eyes from behind her thick glasses. Her appearance was deceiving however, because her mentality was as quick as that of a young adult.

The last in your team was a teenage boy only a year older than you and Pansy. His name was Christopher and you had known him since you were a small child and you went to your grandparents in the summer. He had dark curls framing his olive face that was always painted with a bright smile. This time there was something other in his smile too and it only made sense to you after he told you that his boyfriend was in the other team and he desperately wanted to beat him.

‘y/n too,’ Pansy had said and Christopher had raised his eyebrow.

‘Really?’

‘No! Blaise is not my boyfriend!’ you’d cried to which Pansy had laughed.

‘Who said anything about Blaise? I merely said ‘boyfriend’.’

Now you were all looking at the new paper in your hand. The next item on the list was an eurrpvwlfh; a broomstick. Though finding out what the next item was had been easy, the real problem was finding the place where. The text on the paper you had gotten from the person in the library didn’t exactly help you very much.

Where I am is always a mystery.

Over mountains I fly,

Or I cross above the trees.

Down on the ground I rest,

Still and motionless I stand.

Pansy sighed and she threw her head back, closing her eyes as she thought about the riddle. Next to you, Quincy was staring at the text as if that would make him any wiser. Every once in a while he would hum but he didn’t come with an answer.

‘We’re gonna lose our lead like this,’ Christopher sighed as he looked around the street for other teams.

‘Surely we’re not seeing something,’ Pansy said and she tilted her head to the side, looking at the paper from a different angle. ‘No offense, but the organisation isn’t exactly a group of highly intelligent people, so maybe we have to think easier.’

Christopher chuckled and you faked a scowl at Pansy. ‘That’s my grandmother you’re talking about!’ you cried and Pansy just shrugged. ‘But you’re right. I am sure there is something clear that we’re overlooking.’

Chantelle cleared her throat and pointed at the text. ‘Maybe we should take a literal approach. You know, look at the text rather than the meaning?’

‘Here,’ you said and gave Chantelle the paper, allowing her to put her full focus on it.

Down the street you noticed a group of people approaching the library. Running ahead of the others was a young boy you recognised as Raoul. He had a big smile on his face and was waving the list with things to collect through the air. In the group behind him Blaise and Draco were walking together, followed by Mica and Ivanna. They noticed your team and Blaise and Draco waved.

‘Not to put pressure on you, but I really hope you can figure it out now because if we don’t win from Blaise and Draco I will be hearing that for the rest of my life,’ you sighed and Pansy nodded.

Chantelle looked up from the paper and winked at you. ‘I got it.’

Your team cheered and Blaise’s team, that was just about to enter the library, looked around. Upon seeing your team so happy, their faces turned sad.

‘See you tonight, boys!’ Pansy shouted. ‘Losers have to do the dishes!’

/\/\/\

Blaise and his team stepped out of the woods with the broomstick in their hand. The broom was old and twitchy and Blaise had to stifle a laugh thinking of how different the real broomsticks were in the wizarding world.

Again it had been Mica who had guessed the answer of the riddle. Blaise wondered where the team would be if they hadn’t been here. Probably still working on the first puzzle. But Mica had figured out that the first letters of the sentences in the little poem formed the word woods, the place where they had found the broomstick.

Now they only had the next word, fordn, meaning cloak, and a silver pin. It was not much to go on but Ivanna had recognised the pin straight away.

‘It comes from Mrs. Heath’s studio!’ she exclaimed and looked at the little pin in her fingers. ‘It’s what she uses for her dresses!’

Unfortunately Mrs. Heath’s studio lay on the other side of the village and it would take at least forty minutes before they’d get there.

‘Forty minutes?!’ Draco cried and when the team set off he turned to Blaise. ‘Stupid Muggles, why can’t we just apparate?’

‘Oh shut it, Malfoy,’ Blaise said. ‘It’s fun!’

‘I’m gonna curse y/n for making us do this…’

Grudging Draco followed the rest of his team and though Blaise would never say it to his friend, he had to admit that his feet were beginning to hurt.

The Sly Pups passed little houses with colourful front yards, full of flowers and bushes. The main street was silent and all the shops were closed, as most of the inhabitants were participating in the Games and there was no need for the stores to be open. They ran into a few other teams, but none of those had the same list as they had.

After forty-five minutes they arrived at the old house of Mrs. Heath. In the garden there was a little path, past pink flowerbeds and a small pond with fish. Halfway in the garden the path split in two. One side led to the bright yellow front door, the other led to a wooden door with a sign on it that said the Heath atelier.

Ivanna stepped through the garden and knocked on the yellow door. A minute it was silent and then an old lady opened the door. She was wearing an orange with blue flowers dress that reached to the ground and her grey hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. Her lips spread into a smile when she saw the five people at her door.

‘You’re the first ones!’ Mrs. Heath smiled and she stepped out of the door. ‘Come, come, follow me!’

Blaise sent Draco a questioning look as they followed Mrs. Heath to her studio. Your team had been far ahead of Pups, having figured out where to find the broomstick before Blaise’s team even had the riddle. In the forest there had been two brooms already collected, but apparently the Sly Pups were the only ones who had found where the silver pin came from.

Inside the Heath atelier stood four mannequins with colourful robes. Each had a different colour and pattern. There was a dark blue one with yellow stars, a green one covered with red flowers and one coloured yellow with orange and red flames. Blaise snickered at the cloaks; the only one he had even seen wearing such colours was Dumbledore and he couldn’t exactly be called a normal wizard.

‘You take this one,’ Mrs. Heath said and she pulled a bright pink cloak with yellow and green crescents embroidered in it from a mannequin. ‘And also—’ she opened a drawer and pulled out a thin object in the shape of a circle ‘—this one. Good luck!’

Ivanna took the object and the cloak and ushered the team outside. In the garden she handed over the cloak to Draco, who took it with a frown, and looked at what Mrs. Heath had given her.

‘It’s a coaster,’ Mica said, raising one eyebrow. ‘Why would she give us a coaster?’

Before anyone of the team could guess, however, another group arrived at the house. You and Pansy were walking ahead, both with tired and sweaty faces, and the rest of your team seemed just as exhausted.

Blaise waved at you and you gave him a weak smile back as you walked with your team inside.

‘Does anyone recognise this?’ Mica asked and they looked around the team.

Everyone shook their head and they sighed as one. Ivanna brought the coaster closer to her face and examined it. She dropped her shoulders and shook her head again. ‘I don’t know what it is.’

‘It probably has something to do with the next item,’ Mica said and they pulled out the list. ‘Candles. Is there a place here that sells candles or anything?’

‘But what has that got to do with the coaster?’ Blaise asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Mica admitted.

Your team came out of the studio with the green cloak and Pansy had a coaster in her hand. You huddled a little away from Blaise and your team formed a protective circle around the object in Pansy’s hand.

Blaise was standing with his back to your team, but he could hear the whispers. While his team tried to think of a solution for the weird puzzle, Blaise tried to listen to what your teammates had to say. And it seemed like your team had sorted it out as quickly as Ivanna had sorted out the solution of the pin.

‘I know where this is from,’ Quincy said. ‘At Mikey’s they use these coasters.’

‘And that would make sense, because in a restaurant they surely have candles!’ Chantelle added and the rest of your team mumbled approvingly.

Blaise looked around and saw your team leaving the garden and heading for the main street. You caught his stare and smiled enthusiastic at Blaise, making him weak in the knees with the innocent laugh on your face. Butterflies were fluttering through his stomach and he felt bad for eavesdropping on your team.

‘Blaise?’

‘Yeah?’ Blaise tore his gaze from you and turned to his team, finding them all looking at him.

Mica laughed and shook their head. ‘Ivanna said that she knows someone who makes candles,’ they said. ‘I know we haven’t got much time left, but it’s worth a try.’

The scavenger hunt would only last till four, then everyone had to return to the fields, whether they had found all the objects or not. Now there were only thirty minutes left, so they had to hurry.

Blaise looked at his team and thought of what he had heard a minute earlier. If they went to the candle-maker they would never get to the restaurant in time, and that would mean that they’d lose from your team. However, when Blaise thought of you and how happy you’d be when winning, he just couldn’t tell.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Sounds great.’

/\/\/\

You were lying in bed, staring at the shapes the lamp cast on the ceiling. Pansy was hopping around in the room, trying to find the pyjamas that she had thrown off this morning. Her footsteps were heavy sounds on the wooden floor.

There was a faint smile on your face. This afternoon your team had been the only one to return with all four of the items on the list. Though that didn’t guarantee that the Red Titans had won the entire scavenger hunt, it did mean that you and Pansy’s team had won from Blaise and Draco’s.

However, there was one more thing that added to your smile.

‘He knew,’ you said and sat up against the headboard of the bed.

‘Who knew what?’ Pansy asked as she was bent over in the closet.

‘Blaise knew where to find the candles.’

Pansy looked up at you. ‘What do you mean? His team didn’t find them.’

‘No, his team didn’t know,’ you said while Pansy took off her shirt and trousers. ‘But he did.’

Pansy neatly folded her clothes and placed them on a shelf in the closet. Then she closed the door and looked around the room. ‘Where the hell are my clothes?’ she mumbled before she looked back at you. ‘How do you know?’

‘He overheard Quincy telling where the coaster came from,’ you said and you lifted the pillow on the bed and revealed Pansy’s pyjamas. ‘He looked at me before we walked away. I could see it in his face.’

Pansy had sat down on the bed and pulled the shirt over her head. ‘So if he knew, why didn’t he tell his team?’ she asked and then a wicked smile spread on her face. ‘He let you win.’

‘He let us win, Pansy,’ you corrected, but even you couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘But yeah.’

‘So that’s why you’ve been smiling so much all evening!’ Pansy exclaimed loudly and you shushed her.

‘Shh! He’s still in the room next to us!’

Pansy rolled her eyes and crawled under the covers next to you. ‘Will you now believe he’s totally into you?’

You turned off the light on the nightstand and lay down, pulling the duvet up to your chin. You stared at the dark ceiling for a moment, thinking back of today. With a smile you took Pansy’s hand and gave it a little squeeze.

‘Perhaps.’

- - - - - - -

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[marvelslut16]

Prank gone wrong

Prompt number: 19 “I can’t do this anymore”

Fandom: It

Paring: Richie Tozier x reader (aged up to 17 or 18)

Rating: T

Word count: 2.6k (this was supposed to be short!)

Warnings: Swearing. Bullying. Mentions of domestic abuse/domestic violence- nothing graphic. asshole Richie. Angst but ends fluffy

A/N: Oof I’ve been gone for ages, I’m sorry guys. But here’s day one of fictober, so hopefully I’ll be able to keep up and this will motivate me to write regularly again. I’m not sure if I love this one or not. I liked the idea when I started and then it took some turns and this is what I ended up with while writing between zoom classes, so sorry if it sucks. I added the second gif cause it’s closer to the age in the story. 

It all started as a stupid prank, a way to get back at Greta for years and years of torture, you never thought it would end in you losing a friend. Just over three months ago Richie agreed to Bev’s plan, take Greta out on a few dates and then publicly humiliate her- give her a taste of her own medicine. But to everyone's surprise, it lasted way longer than a few dates and there was no end in sight. Worst of all it seemed that Richie was actually falling for her- he would defend her any chance he got and even started ditching the losers to spend time with her and her friends. 

It was no surprise to you that Greta fell for Richie, he’s funny, sweet, and he’s aged well. His head has grown into his coke bottle glasses, he still wears hawian shirts but now he has a leather jacket over them constantly- a leather jacket that the two of you picked out together. There is no better than one Richie Tozier, and your feelings are getting harder and harder to deny. Your crush on the trashmouth developed back in middle school- the summer Pennywise reigned terror, but through the years your crush turned into something stronger- by senior year you knew you loved him. Halfway into said school year every loser, besides Richie of course, knew of your feelings for him. The pitied glances they would send your way were almost suffocating. 

Richie is late to lunch yet again, probably making out with Greta in the hallway, so each of you are using this time to talk about the personal hell her and her friends have created for each of you today. You go last, quickly giving them a rundown of your encounter with her in the bathroom, where she threatened you to stay away from ‘her Richie’ and that you would live to regret it if you didn’t. She even ripped one of your textbooks out of your hands, dropping it into the disgusting toilet water- calling you a worthless slut on her way out. 

“Greta is such a bitch!” you complain to your friends, mindlessly pushing around the mush they call lunch at Derry high with the cheap plastic spork they provide. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t talk about my girlfriend that way,” Richie’s voice is calm and even- lacking the normal excitement and joking lilt to it. Your eyes widen in horror at him having heard you, then they narrow at how genuine his defense of her is. 

“Richie, c’mon, let it go,” Eddie pleads, glancing between your shocked and hurt face and Richie’s angry one. 

“No Eddie, I’m so sick of (Y/N) talking shit about my girlfriend!” you whip around in your seat and look at him in shock. 

“Richie what the hell?” you rise out of your seat so he won’t look down on you literally and figuratively anymore. He cocks his eyebrow, head dropping to the side as he crosses his arms and lets out a huff of annoyance. “Ya know what? I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what anymore?” Richie doesn’t drop the cocky attitude, making the next words out of your mouth slightly less painful. 

“Be your friend,” there’s a collective gasp from your friends. Richie’s face morphs into shock and sadness for a split second before hardening and sending you another glare. “Not when you’re dating her. She’s changing you Richie!” 

“Greta was right about you, you are a bitch,” your breath catches in your throat and you fight the tears that well up in your eyes. Richie’s glare is unflinching as you stare him in the eye, a tell-tale sign that he doesn’t regret a single word that he said. The murmuring from the table behind you stops the moment the words leave his mouth, they all stare at their friend in shock. 

“Fine, then you’ll never have to deal with this bitch again,” you spin around and grab your backpack and lunch tray. “Fuck you Richard Tozier!” you dump your tray of mush into the trach on your way out of the cafeteria nad away from that stupid boy you somehow fell for. 

“What did you just do?” Stan is the first one to regain the use of his voice, he’s glaring at Richie as the boy takes your recently vacated seat. 

“I’m sick of her attitude towards Greta,” he tries to defend, shocked when all of his friends level him with matching glares. 

“W-wh-what h-ha-ha-happen-ned to th-he pr-pr-prank-k?” Bill’s recently improved stuttering growing worse as he grows anxious at the turn of events between his friends. 

“Greta isn’t the bad one here, we’ve been rude to her all of these years!” Richie once again tries to effectively defend his girlfriend.

“She wrote loser on my cast!” Eddie practically screeches before he goes into an anxiety attack, beleving it’s an asthma attack he takes two puffs from his inhaler.

“Her and her friends dumped wet garbage on me,” Bev adds, quieter than Eddie. 

“That was in middle school,” Richie rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. 

“I thought you were in love with (Y/N) before the whole prank, that you did it to get over her,” Eddie says slowly this time, having calmed down from moments prior. 

“Greta helped me realize I never loved (Y/N), I was doing what was expected after years of friendship,” the losers stare at him- open mouthed and gaping at Richie’s stupidity. 

“She attacked (Y/N) in the bathroom this morning,” Mike tries to reason with his brainwashed friend. 

“No, (Y/N) was lying to you guys. She attacked Greta earlier, not the other way around. She screamed at Greta to break up with me or she’d regret it, and then dumped her books in the toilet and called her slut.”

“Greta did that to (Y/N), you dumbass!” Bev grows increasingly angry, at Richie and herself for coming up with the stupid prank. “I was in there with her, Greta’s convinced (Y/N)’s in love with you so she wants to rip you apart. Do you honestly believe (Y/N) would do something like that?”

“Shit!” Richie slams his fists on the table, causing most of the cafeteria to turn and looking at him briefly before going back to their individual tasks. Everything Greta had blamed on you in the past three months comes rushing back and he realizes that they’re all out of character but in character for Greta. Somewhere along the way he convinced himself that Greta was telling the truth so he had a reason to stop being in love with his best friend- he was too scared to tell you because you’re the only person that could actually hurt him. 

“(Y/N) (L/N) to the principal's office immediately,” the voiceover the intercom cracks showing the age of the ancient system. 

“Richie?” Stan isn’t sure he wants to know the truth as he asks the question. 

“I told Greta to tell the principal,” his voice is oddly quiet and broken, definitely out of character for the jokester trashmouth. 

“You fucking idiot!” Bev seethes, staring Richie down. They’re the only two that know the truth about your father. 

--

You quickly get up from your place in the library and walk down the empty halls to get to the principal's office. Once you arrive the secretary gives you a dirty look, causing you to sink back and the pit of anxiety in your gut to grow. Greta sends you a triumphant smirk before going back to fake sobbing as she walks out of the principal's office and past you. 

You feel like you're going to vomit as you walk into the principal's office behind him, the look on his face says you’ll get after school detention for at least a week! Whatever lies Greta told about you are clearly being believed by him and the secretary. 

“You’re a good student Miss. (L/N), so why have you been harassing Miss. Keene?” he crosses his arms over his chest, they rest lightly on top of his bulging gut. 

“I haven’t-” you try to defend, but he puts up a hand to stop you. 

“She alleges it’s because you have feelings for her boyfriend Mr. Tozier and you’re upset that she chose her over you.”

“That’s not true-” his glare cuts you off this time. 

“Today alone you threw her books in the toilet, threatened her for being with Richie, and called her a slut,” the words today alone stand out to you, how many lies did she tell? 

“She did that to me! Not the other way around!” you try desperately for him to believe you. 

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” he raises a brow much like Richie did in the  cafeteria, Greta has both of them wrapped around her finger and against you. 

“Because no ones ever done anything! She’s been torturing me since we were in grade school and she’s never got in trouble! A freshman came to you last week saying Greta was bullying her and you didn’t do anything!”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to suspend you for the rest of the week.” he says firmly, no room for negotiation or pleading. 

“That’s four days!” you cry out incredulously.

“Do you want to make it longer?” when you don’t respond he continues talking. “Your father is on his way, go get your books from your locker and leave school property.” 

You hear someone call your name from down the hall as you grab all of your textbooks from your locker, trying to shove all five thick books into your bag. You ignore the voice up until it’s right next to you and you realize it’s Richie trying to plead for forgiveness. 

“Lose my number, and while you’re at it forget my name. Stay the fuck away from me Tozier!” Your outburst grabs the attention of the other students walking to their next class, everyone shocked by the inseparable duo of Tozier and (L/N) fighting. You slam your locker shut with a loud bang, heading for the door and away from him calling your name.

--

Monday comes agonizingly slowly, but when it does you're sitting with Bev in the bathroom during third period, both of you telling your teachers you don’t feel good. 

“How bad was it?” she flicks her lighter and lights her cigarette, standing next to the window so she can blow the smoke outside. 

“Worse than it's ever been,” you feel ghost pains on your back from where your dad's leather belt met your flesh for the past six days. “Since Richie didn’t sneak in to help clean them this time I think I may have an infection.”

“He broke up with Greta,” Bev changes the subject, she knows you only trust Richie enough to see the damage your father inflicts, so she doesn’t bother to ask to check on it.” 

“Good for him,” you stare down at the gross linoleum tile under your beat up Chuck Taylor’s. Richie had promised to take you away from your father the moment you two graduated, he’d been promising it for years, even while he was with Greta, but now you aren’t holding out hope for the promise. 

“He’s been miserable without you,” the bell signaling the end of the period saves you from formulating an answer. Bev quickly flushes her cigarette butt and the two of you head to the cafeteria, you’re a little worried about sitting with the losers after your fight with Richie. Bev grabs your hand and gently pulls you to the table when she notices your hesitance. You catch up with the rest of the losers, minus Richie who isn’t in the lunchroom which you’re oddly sad about, finding out about tests and break ups you missed while you were suspended. The loud ear splitting sound of feedback causes the entire cafeteria to cover their ears and look to the microphone stand in the front of the room. Richie is standing in the front holding the microphone, cringing slightly at the loud sound. No lunch ladies run to grab the microphone from him, meaning he got permission to do whatever it is he’s about to do. His wild curls bounce as he nervously shifts from foot to foot as he looks around the cafeteria until he locks eyes with you. You can’t look away from him so you miss the smiles the losers give each other and the high five Bev and Ben share. 

“(Y/N) I don’t know what I could ever say to you to get you to forgive me, I can never forgive myself for hurting you,” he talks into the microphone, everyone looking between the two of you, but neither of you seem to notice anyone but each other. “I know I embarrassed you, so maybe if I embarrass myself in front of everyone you’ll forgive me a little bit. (Y/N), I never meant to hurt you, I only agreed to the prank because I wanted to forget you. No- fuck that doesn’t sound right.

“I’ve been in love with you since middle school and I knew you could never love me too, even when Ed’s told me you did I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to forget my feelings for you because I never wanted to hurt you, so I agreed to the prank. But I hurt you anyway because I let Greta get in my head, so I even failed the damn prank. But I love you so fucking much (Y/N) and I’m sick of running from these damn feelings. All I want to do is take you away from this hellhole after we graduate, and go to NYU together like we’ve planned since Freshman year. I love you (Y/N) (L/N), and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing to you about how shitty I was if you give me a second chance.” 

Your body stands up on autopilot, and you don’t realize you’re walking towards him until your face to face. Lifting your hand you gently push a curl that fell in front of his eye away and tuck it behind his ear, he leans his head into your hand as a lunch lady comes and takes the microphone out his hand grinning largely at teen love. You struggle to find words, so you wrap both your hands around the lapels of his leather jacket and pull him into a kiss. It isn’t your first kiss, Bill had dared you two to kiss sophomore year in a game of truth or dare in the barrens, but this kiss is different. These aren't two kids afraid of the adult feelings that were overcoming them, these are two almost adults finally giving into the most powerful and amazing feeling in existence. Richie makes sure to keep his hands away from your back, he’ll clean out your cuts later, instead he tangles his fingers into your hair pulling you in deeper. Before the kiss can go too far you pull back giggling as Richie follows your face trying to kiss you again. 

“I love you too,” you rest your forehead on his, turning your giggling face into a mock serious one. “But you’re on thin ice mister.” 

“I love you more,” he caresses your cheek and you grin happily, laughing at his antics when he starts speaking again. “Than I love Eddie’s mom.” the entire cafeteria is whooping and hollering at your kiss, but non louder than your losers. Well, everyone except Greta, who lets out a high pitched huff and storms out of the cafeteria. 

“I think the prank ended up working out,” you giggle, lightly nipping at Richie’s thumb as it grazes over your lower lip.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[janesramblings]

Drowning

This idea came as an alternate ending to 2x3. It doesn’t actually include anyone drowning (not literally anyway), so enjoy. Also it’s pretty long, sorry. 

“What are we celebrating?” 

“The five of us,” Nancy answers Bess with a grin. She bumps against Ace, deliberately or not, she can’t tell, but the feeling of his jacket against hers sends sparks up her arm.

“Sounds good to me,” Ace says, smiling down at her. Nancy isn’t quite sure when it happened, but some time in the past few days, Nancy found herself looking forward to Ace’s smiles, and the way that he runs his hands through his hair when he’s stressed. When he’s gone, she misses the way he stands right behind her, far enough to give her space to think, but close enough to provide assistance if she needs it. 

Nancy pushes through the door of The Claw, the lights flicking on. She flinches and turns back to see Nick with his hand poised over the light switch. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Nancy tightened her grip on the strap of her bag. She hates how after all the close encounters she’s faced, even just the lights turning on scares her. She catches sight of Ace looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you sure?” Bess asks.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I mean, we did just return your mom’s bones to the sea,” George says. “Ow!” she adds as Bess elbows her in the side.

“Really, I’m fine. I’m just going to clean up and change.” Nancy holds up her hand, blood still dripping from the wound.

“Okay,” Bess says. Nancy takes Bess’s affirmation as permission to turn on her heel and make a beeline for the stairs down to the lockers. She pulls off her jacket and bag and stands in the middle of the room, in front of the bench. She knows she should find the first aid kid and clean up the cut on her hand, but all she wants to do is sit and sort through all her emotions. She thought she had moved on after she buried Kate. She had locked up her emotions in a box to never be opened again, but learning about Lucy and watching her bones float away threw that box open. 

“Nancy?” Nancy turns to see Ace at the top of the stairs. He’s taken his hat and coat off, and the white box in his hands is held in front of him like an offering. 

“Yes?”

Ace steps down the stairs slowly, his eyes trained on her face. “You’re crying.” It’s a statement. Not a question.  

“Am I? I didn’t notice.” Nancy brings her hand up to wipe her tears away, but Ace beats her to it. He traces his thumb along her cheek. Normally, being this close to someone would freak her out, but all Nancy really wants is for someone to hug her and tell her everything will be alright, like Kate used to do. 

“You were,” Ace confirms. “Here, give me your hand.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding like there’s no tomorrow.” Nancy flinches. Ace smirks. “Bad joke?”

“Bad joke,” Nancy agrees, holding her hand out. She usually doesn’t let anyone fix her injuries, but Ace is different. She watches as he wipes up the blood, cleans off her hand, and wraps gauze around it. He looks like he’s hacking Nancy thinks. He has the same focused look in his eyes. Like the only important thing in the world is making sure her had is fixed. It makes her feel warm inside, almost as if someone had pulled her out of the sea, wrapped a blanket around her, and handed a mug of hot chocolate. 

Nancy didn’t even know she was drowning until Ace pulled her out. 

“All set,” Ace says, letting go of Nancy’s hand. 

“Thanks,” Nancy says, stuffing her hands in her pockets. 

“Any time.”

Nancy drops onto the bench, and Ace follows suit. “Want to talk about anything?” he asks.

Nancy, in a moment of boldness, lays her head on Ace’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. Just wraps his arm around her. “AJ said something interesting, before he ran off. After he tried to kill Hannah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He said that all those years alone with his demons...” Nancy trails off, trying to find the right words. Ace doesn’t prompt her. He just tightens his grip around her shoulders. “He said it was like being dead.”

Ace turns his head, looking down at her. He leans forward and rests his chin on the top of her head. Nancy shifts closer to him, her head in the crook of his neck. Ace’s arm slides down, joining his other one to hug Nancy tightly. 

“I wanted to give her a burial.” Her voice is muffled against his shoulder. But they’ve never really needed to speak to talk to each other. 

“I know.” She feels his chin against her head. It’s comforting. She’s never one to ask for protection, and she probably never will, but on the rare times she asks, people are hesitant to give it. She’s not quite sure why Ace is willing to throw away his life to help her, but she’s grateful. 

“I can’t lose two moms,” Nancy says, voicing a thought that had been haunting her for days. 

“I know.”

“I can’t lose Carson either.”

“Nancy, I know.”

Nancy presses herself against him as she lets the sobs overtake her. Ace doesn’t say anything. He just hugs her tightly and rests his head on hers. “Thank you,” Nancy mumbles into his neck after she’s run out of tears.

Ace puts his hands on her shoulders. She pulls back to look at him. “I know I always say any time when you thank me Nancy. But I mean it. Any time. I’ve,” he pauses, his voice cracking. “I’ve never had a friend like you.”

Nancy laughs and wipes her tears. “I’ve never had a friend like you either.”

Ace smiles and leans forward a little, and Nancy feels a jolt of excitement. “We should have a burial for Lucy anyway. Somewhere she spent a lot of time, or something.”

Nancy glances down at her lap, trying to hide her disappointment. She really had thought he was going to kiss her. “I would like that.”

“Good.” Ace stands. He holds a hand out for Nancy, and she takes it. “Come on. Let’s get some dessert. We deserve it.”

Nancy follows Ace back to the main floor, where they spend the next hour sharing a day-old slice of cake and a bag of M&Ms, the only dessert they could rustle up. Every time they reached for the chocolate at the same time, Nancy could feel sparks shoot up her hand. She ignored the feeling, talking the Bess the entire night until she and Ace were the last ones left.  

“Hey,” Nancy says as Ace pulls on his jacket.

“Yeah?” he asks, turning to look at her.

“Thanks for letting me cry earlier. I, I was,” Nancy pauses and throws her hands in the air, trying to find the right words. “I felt like I was drowning, you know? And like, I just needed an anchor.” Nancy looks up at him. Somehow, he’s gravitated towards her, a strange look on his face. “You were my anchor,” she finishes. “So thank you.”

Ace shrugs one of his shoulders, smiling a little. “Ah you know me. Ace the Platanchor.”

“Yeah, well,” Nancy takes a step forward, closing the space between them. “I, was kind of hoping we could get past platonic.”

Ace’s hands circle her waist, but he pauses. “Are you sure? Because you really haven’t been in a good place and you just lost Owen and I don’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

“Ace will you just kiss me?”

“Yes ma’am.”   

[rejectofsociety]

Febuwhump: Day Eight

Prompt: “Hey, Hey, This Is No Time To Sleep

Summary: On the Endgame battlefield, Peter finds himself overwhelmed by outriders and some heroes swoop in to (hopefully) save his life.

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Word Count: 1,877

Written for: @febuwhump

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞　　∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

The outriders tore at Peter’s suit, their claws digging underneath the plates of armor to rip at his flesh. His extra, steel limbs formed a cage around him, but they only protected him for a brief moment before getting torn off effortlessly. The alien screeches rang in his ears and made his bones quiver. Too overwhelmed by the dog pile of aliens on top of him to fight or even move, Peter could only curl up in a tight ball with his arms hiding his vulnerable head as much as possible. Tears of terror streamed down his cheeks and his lungs frantically drew in and released breaths of dust-polluted air as he hyperventilated helplessly. Claustrophobia engulfed his body as all he could feel was thousands of pounds of outrider bodies smashed against him and their talons and teeth tearing away at him ravenously. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but fierce claws slashed across his face and the next thing he knew, his vision was blurred by his own blood in his eyes and his head was spinning. He coughed and choked as the world began to disappear around him. He felt as though he were falling endlessly into a pit of darkness, with nothing but the sounds of alien screams to accompany him. The little spider’s heart thundered in fear, then shifted into nauseating palpitations that only added to his lightheadedness.

Then, everything went dark.

“Hey!” Steve called to anyone who was listening, “those outriders, what do they have?!”

Sam swooped down to get a better view and fired his guns repeatedly at the outriders that hunched over a bloody lump like dogs feeding on roadkill. Too absorbed in their snack to notice the bullets, the outriders ignored Sam as if he were a bothersome fly.

“A little help!” He barked the request.

A blast of energy sped past the Falcon and pummeled into the pile of aliens. Everything the energy touch was instantly sent to hell, and Sam only got a brief glance at the alien’s chew toy before Carol swiftly swept it into her arms.

“What is it?” Sam asked, flying high in the sky to meet her.

She looked down at the bloody lump in her arms and her entire face went ghostly pale as her eyes widened. He opened his mouth to nervously repeat his question, only to be interrupted as she sped away to a small, hidden cave created by the ruins of Avengers Compound. Sam raced after her, his heart pounding in his throat anxiously. Don’t be Bucky, please don’t be Bucky. I fucking swear- his mind desperately rambled.

He stumbled to a landing inside the cavern where Carol was hunched over a body with her hands desperately clasped over a wound on their neck. Sam hurried to her side and looked down at the bloodied body. His stomach lurched at the sight, and he only recognized the Spiderman from the small bits of sleek, red, armor clinging to his smallish stature.

“Oh shit,” Sam spat under his breath and immediately knelt down beside Carol and clasped his hands over another wound.

The boy’s face was sabotaged with deep claw marks, one going right through his left eye while his sides were shredded with holes and tears were teeth and talons had met in a desperate effort to consume him. Sam grimaced as his hands were rapidly coated with warm, thick blood yet he refused to budge. Did he believe that he and Carol could save this kid with only their hands? Absolutely not. But for fuck’s sake they had to try. Peter had so much life left to live, he shouldn’t have been out on a battlefield and fighting aliens. He should have been with his family, comfortable and safe and not worrying about if he would survive the next five seconds.

Sam knew nothing of this kid, but in that moment he couldn’t help but be filled with fury. If this boy died, his blood would be on Tony’s hands and Sam wouldn’t let him forget it for a second. It would stain Tony’s skin for the rest of his life because it was Tony who recruited a fucking fourteen year old child to battle full grown adults. And why? Why a child when he had a list of potential heroes that he could pull out at any given moment just by asking an artificial voice in the ceiling? It was because Peter was young, eager, maybe even a little scared. He was all too easy to manipulate and blackmail into getting on Tony’s side of a war he didn’t understand. He still didn’t know what he had been fighting for.

Sam was yanked out of his thoughts as Valkyrie landed at the cavern’s entrance on her Pegasus and Steve slid off the creature’s back. The captain rushed across the cave to meet the two others who kept their eyes glued to Peter.

Steve’s heart sank at the sight and he knelt by the boy’s head. No one could bring themselves to speak, it almost seemed like they were afraid that by speaking they would hurt Peter further. Of course, they had to say something sooner than later.

“He’s breathing,” Carol quietly observed, “...just barely.”

Steve rested one hand on the side of Peter’s face gingerly, “kid, I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t realize how young he is,” Sam observed through gritted teeth, “Stark’s gonna get an earful when this is all over.”

Peter whimpered softly in agony, all though he truly wanted to scream endlessly until his lungs gave out. Every nerve in his body was on fire to the point he almost passed out the moment he regained consciousness.

“Peter?” Carol called, “can you hear us?”

“I...” he barely managed to wheeze out, his voice so weak that it could hardly be heard.

His eyes began flickering closed once more and Sam’s heart skipped a beat frantically, he could practically see the boy’s life slipping away. It was slipping away right through his fingers— almost literally, seeing as their was all too much blood escaping his clasped hands— and he found himself thinking: I can’t let him die. I can’t lose this kid. This was only his second encounter with the spiderling, but he was already determined to protect him from any harm.

“Hey,” he snapped, yet his tone was gentle, “hey, this is no time to sleep. Stay awake, Spidey.”

“Y...yessir,” Peter croaked out.

Valkyrie jogged over, suddenly realizing how concerned she was. Steve had honestly forgotten she was there.

“Let me take a look at him,” she demanded.

Sam and Carol both scooted out her way as much as they could without taking their hands away from Peter’s wounds. Valkyrie sat on her knees and examined each gaping wound, forcing herself not to flinch away— every time she thought she had laid eyes on the worst of it, she’d look a little to the left or the right, up or down, and something worse would meet her gaze.

She tore her eyes away from the boy, then her eyes trailed to meet Carol.

“You have magic hands, don’t you?” She recalled.

“Yes,” Carol replied, “I’m Carol.”

“How much control do you have over your hands?”

“Enough.”

“Can you warm your hands up just enough so that they burn him?” She requested.

Carol raised her eyebrows, “good thinking.”

“What are you thinking?” Steve asked.

“By burning his flesh, the bleeding will slow down,” Sam explained then looked back at Carol, “please hurry.”

She nodded then sprawled her hands across the wound on his neck, gradually heating up her hands while also being careful not to blast the boy. Peter’s expression began to twist into one of dreadful agony as the burning heat seared his flesh. Steve and Valkyrie’s hands snapped over his body, holding him down as he screamed between gritted teeth. His muscles tensed against their grip and his body trashed reflexively.

Carol worked swiftly and seamlessly, doing her best to drown out Peter’s cries as she wished there was a way she could save him without hurting him like this. Steve muttered to Peter, telling him he was strong, saying he would be okay, anything he could think of to comfort him. The spider continued to cry out and trash until his body completely gave up and went limp with exhaustion. Not long after, Carol finished up her work and sighed heavily with her hands coated in crimson blood.

“Has anyone seen Peter?” Tony asked through Steve’s earpiece, his voice tight with anxiety.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, “he’s with me.”

“Thank fucking goodness,” he sighed in relief, “I’m coming over.”

“He got beat pretty bad,” Steve warned, “but please come over.”

The four heroes exchanged anxious glances as they listened to Peter’s hoarse breathing. Carol’s hands rested on Peter’s arm, Steve kept one on his shoulder, Valkyrie’s gently played with his matted hair, and Sam lightly touched his other shoulder. It was like they were so terrified of loosing him, they physically refused to let go of him. Peter didn’t mind in the slightest. Even has he clung to consciousness ever so desperately, he could feel the people around him and that was the only comfort he needed.

Tony clumsily landed in the cavern soon enough. He raced to Peter’s side and the small group scooted away for him. Sam grit his teeth, but forced himself to fight back any comments.

“Oh shit, kid, I-“ Tony held one of Peter’s hands in his, his entire body trembling with anxiety.

“Is okay...” Peter grunted, “M’sser Stark, ‘m okay.”

The hoarseness of Peter’s weak voice only frightened Tony further, “god, Peter. This is all my fault, I-“

“We can’t keep him here,” Valkyrie interrupted upon hearing an explosion outside.

“Y-you’re right,” Tony nodded and the others agreed.

“I can take him away from here,” she offered, “there’s room on my Pegasus.”

“That’s so cool,” Peter mumbled, still hardly conscious.

Sam smiled down at him then looked back at Valkyrie, “please take care of him.”

Soon, Peter was gingerly placed on Valkyrie’s Pegasus and she carefully transported him as far away from the war as she could. When she flew through the thick of the battlefield, Sam, Carol, and Tony accompanied her, keeping the enemies at bay.

Tony’s anxieties were rocketed high into the air without Peter in his sight. He needed to see him, was he okay? Was he still alive? Had he reached safety yet? Tony needed to see him, he just had to. He needed to ask FRIDAY if his heart was still beating and watch the AI display his heart rate and assure him it beat steadily. He needed to watch Peter breath in fresh air and watch his mouth move when he spoke. He needed to hear his horrible jokes and-

“Tony, look out!” Strange cried before shielding Tony from an aerial attack, “stay focused!”

“Right, right,” he shook his head, as if shaking Peter out of his thoughts, “sorry.”

Strange had already seen this all. He knew what happened to Peter, and he wasn’t worried about whether he would live or die— he already knew the answer. Part of him wished he could tell Tony how it would play out, but the rest of him knew that was against the rules. If he stated the future, it wouldn’t happen and there was only one way to win, regardless of casualties...

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {3}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Oh, the build up.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“What are the chances you’d ever meet someone like that? he wondered. Someone you could love forever, someone who would forever love you back? And what did you do when that person was born half a world away? The math seemed impossible.” ― Rainbow Rowell, Eleanor & Park

Feyre woke up with a pounding headache. It couldn’t have been too late, the sun was still rising. She groaned as she rolled over, searching for her phone, but finding nothing. When she sat up, and found herself in her black cotton bra and panties, her cheeks turned red. 

The events of the night before flooded her mind - with a few blank spots. 

She remembered Rhys being punched, remembered Tamlin being punched by Rhys, remembered getting pissed off, remembered dancing, remembered drinking…

A lot. 

After that, things grew hazy, but she vaguely remembered puking on Rhysand’s crotch. 

Rhysand.

After wrapping a blanket around her body, she stomped across the hall and threw open the door. Rhysand was sound asleep, his face in his pillow, a blanket wrapped around his waist.

The black winged tattoos on his back gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the thin curtains. It started at the lowest point of his back and trailed up, curling up over his shoulders. 

She remembered when he was in high school. He had come a long way since being the lanky boy she met her freshman year. Now, his shoulders were broad, his arms thick, his tanned skin covered in black ink. 

Feyre, completely aware of the admiration she was giving his body, stormed to his bed and threw off his comforter. Gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. 

His head jerked up, his eyes still closed, his hair sticking up. “Fu-Wha..”

Those violet eyes fluttered open and caught sight of Feyre, blanket wrapped around her. “Good morning, asshole.”

He blinked, coming more to his senses. He rubbed at his eyes before propping himself on his elbows. “Would you like to elaborate?”

“Would you like to tell me why I woke up practically naked this morning?” she asked, voice rising. 

Rhysand raised a brow as he looked at her, exasperated. “You’re fucking welcome.” 

Feyre hesitated, and she knew he saw it, because he rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, one knee drawn up. “You were a mess last night. Don’t you remember?”

“Some…” Feyre muttered, lifting up her chin. 

“Where should I start filling you in?” Rhysand said, grinning. Oh, he was loving this. “When you hung your head out of the window on the way home, telling the city how much you love tequila, or when you stuck your tongue down my throat?” 

A vision appeared in Feyre’s mind, her hands on his face, pulling him forward, her mouth against his.

Rhysand snorted, watching her expression. “Don’t worry. I broke it off quickly. Then, you puked all over the both of us, and all over the bathroom...so, apparently the kiss wasn’t all that great.” 

“You cleaned me up,” Feyre said, quietly, her eyes softening.

Rhysand’s grin had softened, too, as he tilted his head. “Of course I did. What kind of friend would I be if I let you go to bed, covered in puke?”

Feyre sat on the edge of his mattress and cursed, before falling back onto his bed. “Did I at least make it out of the bar before I started embarrassing myself?” 

Rhysand laughed. “Depends what you mean by embarrassing.”

She looked up at him. He was sitting up now, pushing his hair back. She could see the bruise, now black and blue, just below his eye. Tamlin hit him good.

And it was all her fault.

His grin faded as he watched the thoughts go through her head. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“And how do you know that’s what I’m thinking about?” she asked.

“Because I know you,” he said. “And because I can see where your eyes are directed.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Why?” he asked. “It’s not your fault he’s a prick.”

“I came here, with you,” she said. “And it didn’t make his suspicions lessen, that’s for sure. Now, he thinks you took me from him, and I assume last night will not be the only fight that breaks out because of it.”

Rhysand sighed, laying down on his stomach beside her. He looked down at her, eyes bright. “I don’t care about that, Feyre. All I care about is that you are away from him, out of that house, out of that relationship. You deserve better.”

He had always told her that, from the moment they started dating in high school. You shouldn’t be with Tam. You’re too good for him. He doesn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated. 

“You don’t deserve to be bombarded in a bar,” she said. 

Rhysand didn’t say anything else, but he watched her, and the gleam in his eyes made her remember that she was hardly wearing anything beneath the blanket she had burrito-ed herself in. 

“I’m going to go put on pants,” she said.

Rhysand’s grin returned. “Probably a good idea. Apparently, you can’t control yourself around me.”

“Fuck you,” Feyre laughed, pushing against his shoulder.

He didn’t waiver. He just watched her, and laughed, and ruffled her hair, which earned him a scowl in return. 

“Next time, you should knock,” he said, as she got up to leave his bedroom. “You have no idea what goes on in here at night.”

Feyre turned in the threshold, smiling wickedly. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caught you masturbating.” 

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed. “I was adjusting myself, for the last time! That was the year of overly-tight skinny jeans…”

“You can keep telling everybody that, but we all know the truth,” she winked, before going back across the hall and closing herself inside of her bedroom, ignoring Rhysand’s protests. 

She found a bottle of Advil in her nightstand and took a few before pulling on some leggings and a t-shirt. 

She still felt like shit, but Rhysand always had a knack for making her feel better, no matter her mood or the level of her hangover. When she walked into the kitchen, Rhysand was eating a bowl of cereal at their little table, his chest still bare. 

“Wanna go for a run this morning?” he asked, mouth full.

“I would literally rather do anything else,” Feyre muttered, pulling a Gatorade out of the fridge and walking to the couch, where she collapsed.

Rhysand’s phone chimed on the side table next to her.

“Mind telling me who that is?” he asked, voice hardly comprehensible. 

“If you stop talking with your mouth full,” she mumbled, reaching for his phone. 

The number was unknown, but the message had her tensing. 

Hey, Rhysand. My name is Clare. Your friend gave me your number last night. I was wondering if you wanted to go get a drink later?

Feyre read the message twice, and hesitated, then felt ridiculous for hesitating. Rhysand deserved to go out with a cute girl for a drink. Why wouldn’t he?

“Some girl,” she said. “Apparently Cassian was giving out your number again.”

“Hmm,” Rhysand said. His bowl and spoon clattered in the sink before he walked to the living room and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, pulling Feyre’s feet onto his lap. She handed him his phone, and he read the message before tossing it aside.

He turned on the t.v., as if nothing had happened. 

“Well?” Feyre asked, as Rhysand leaned back against the couch cushions. “Are you going to reply?”

Rhysand shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You should,” Feyre said, eyeing him. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Rhysand looked her way, brows raised. “Why do I feel like I’m being attacked?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I’m not attacking you, I just think it would be nice for you to go out. Meet someone.”

Rhysand snorted. “Yeah, well...we’ll see.” 

“You should go.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m serious.”

“We’ll see.”

“Rhys.”

“Feyre.”

He wouldn’t look at her. His smile was not reaching his eyes. Maybe she was being too pushy, but it had been a long time since Rhysand’s last relationship. He dated, hooked up from time to time, but even that had been few.  

Feyre opened her mouth to say something more, but their front door opened and Azriel appeared, little Mila in his arms. 

She saw Rhysand and beamed. “Rhysie!” 

Rhysand smiled, catching Mila once she ran to the couch and threw herself on top of him.

“Hi, Mila,” Feyre said, joyfully watching Rhysand kiss her cheek, and watching Mila wipe it off.

“Hi, Fey,” she said. “I’m glad you live with Rhysie now. It smells better in here.”

Feyre barked a laugh as Azriel slumped down in the armchair across from them.

He looked exhausted. 

“Rhys has a date tonight,” Feyre said, in hopes of distracting Azriel.

He lifted his brows, glancing at Rhysand. “Yeah? Who?”

Rhysand was staring at Feyre, eyes narrowed.

“Some girl from the bar last night,” Feyre said, since Rhysand certainly wasn’t going to, it seemed. “And he’s going.”

“No, I’m not,” he said. 

Azriel looked intrigued. He propped his chin on his fist. “And why wouldn’t you go?”

Rhysand tensed, looking at Azriel with his jaw locked. “Because I work tomorrow, dipshit.” 

“When?” Azriel implied. “Ten? You can’t go on a date tonight because you work at ten tomorrow morning? That’s not very early, Rhys.” 

Rhysand said nothing, but the look he was giving Azriel had Feyre glancing back and forth between the two of them. 

“Just saying,” Azriel muttered. 

“Me too,” Feyre added. 

“Fine,” Rhysand breathed. “If I go, will everyone stay out of my dating life?”

“Yah,” Mila said, making even Rhysand smile.

“Good,” Rhys laughed, tickling Mila’s tummy. “Thank you.”

~~~~~

Nesta and Elain sat at the diner their mother used to take them to when they were young. It was family-owned, a tiny little building on the corner of Main Street and Second Avenue. They had already been seated for five minutes, and neither of them had said a word. 

They didn’t have a lot in common. They hadn’t since they were children and, even then, they didn’t have a ton in common. But, at least back then, they played together, laughed together, kept each other company. 

Now, sitting through lunch was agonizing. 

“So, how’s work going?” Elain asked, at last.

Nesta looked up from her menu. “Well, I haven’t gotten fired yet, so that’s a perk. Other than that, it’s shit. Thanks for asking.”

Elain nodded. She still hadn’t touched her menu. 

“What about you? Started looking yet?” Nesta asked.

Elain hadn’t had a job since everything had gone down with Graysen, but now that she was living at home with their dad, Nesta assumed she had to find a job again somewhere, doing something.

“Not yet,” she replied, quietly. “But I will.” 

“Sure you will.” Nesta sighed, setting her menu down on the table. “Ready to order?”

Elain nodded. Nesta called over the waitress. She ordered a BLT and fries. Elain ordered a yogurt parfait, loaded with berries. 

“How’s Tomas?” Elain asked, once the waitress walked away.

“Great,” Nesta lied. She hadn’t seen him or talked to him since he left her ass at the nightclub. “He’s out with his brothers today.”

“Doing what?” 

Nesta shrugged, sipping her coffee. “How’s dear old dad?”

“He seems okay,” Elain said, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “Not very social. Spends most of his time in his office or at the park, feeding the birds and talking to some old man named Phil.” 

“Why Phil?” Nesta asked.

Elain shrugged. “He tells dad stories, I guess. Apparently he’s, like, ninety and has nothing better to do.”

“Neither does dad, apparently,” Nesta mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Elain agreed. “I think he’s lonely.” 

Nesta snorted. “Of course he is. Look how he’s spent the last decade, since mom died.”

Elain took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t speak of mom’s death like it’s nothing.”

Nesta tensed. “I’m not. I’m just saying, dad hasn’t really done a lot since then, has he?” 

Elain didn’t protest. Instead, she took a sip of her water before slowly setting her cup back down on the coaster. 

Nesta looked at her phone. No notifications. She supposed that would be the way it would be from now on, since Tomas was no longer in the picture. He was all that she’d had - a sad realization, not that it bothered her too much. Nesta preferred to be alone. 

“Dad misses you,” Elain said, suddenly, voice quiet. “He misses Feyre, too.”

“Maybe he should put a little more effort into his relationship with us, then,” Nesta snapped. “He hasn’t done much of that in almost ten years.”

“It’s not that he didn’t want to-”

“Damn it, Elain,” Nesta growled. Elain froze. “Stop defending him! He’s useless. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy, or yours.” 

“You should just-”

“I won’t do anything,” Nesta said, interrupting. “And you, Elain, should get a job and get your ass out of that house, or you’ll end up his babysitter like Feyre used to be.”

Elain kept quiet.

The waitress returned with their food, and the moment Nesta’s plate was in front of her, she started on her sandwich. Elain just stared at her plate.

“Eat, Elain,” Nesta whispered. “You need to eat.”

Elain did so, quietly and slowly.

Nesta felt a sudden pang of guilt settle in the pit of her stomach. Elain had gone through enough, and Nesta knew that. Her fiance had cheated on her, she was forced to move in with their useless father, and she had lost way too much weight. Nesta’s hostility wasn’t helping, as much as she meant every word that came out of her mouth. 

“Alright, look,” Nesta sighed, setting her sandwich down. “I’ll come over for dinner. Alright? Later this week.”

Elain perked up, just a little bit. She popped a strawberry into her mouth. “Bring Tomas, too? Dad wants to meet him.” 

Nesta just lifted her eyebrows and took another bite of her sandwich. 

The rest of lunch went okay. In fact, most things went okay when Nesta stayed quiet and only answered questions with one or two words. In one or two words, it was much harder to disappoint Elain. Not impossible, but much more difficult. 

When Nesta’s plate was clear, she paid for the bill, hugged Elain goodbye and promised she would be at dinner later in the week, before walking back to her apartment.

She didn’t have a car, not anymore. She had to sell it the year before to keep up with rent. Living in the city, there was always public transportation, so she decided, in the end, a car was not necessarily a necessity. 

She missed having a car, though, especially on days like today. The sun was shining brightly, the air was warm but not too warm. It was a perfect day to drive outside of the city with the music blaring, the windows down. 

But not for Nesta. Instead, she was walking down the sidewalk, pulling a cigarette and her lighter out of her jacket pocket. 

She had three hours before she had to be at work, and no fun way to pass the time. She had no money, no friends, and two cigarettes left. Drinking was an obvious no - showing up to work drunk never did anyone any good. And Nesta couldn’t lose her job. She could barely make ends meet as it was. 

By the time she made it back to her apartment, she was already exhausted, craving her bed. She unlocked the door and looked around. Complete silence. No sign of Tomas. He hadn’t called or texted since he left her at the night club, and it was looking like he wouldn’t. 

It was for the best, though. He was a nuisance. Even the sex, which had been good at first, had turned into more of an annoyance than anything else. In the end, every time his hands roamed her body, she grew nauseous. 

His stupid, little hands.

Just as she settled on her couch, a knock came on the front door. 

Nesta sighed. “Go away!”

They knocked again. 

“Fuck off!” she yelled, lighting her last cigarette. She should stop at the gas station on the way to work, would have to leave ten minutes early.

Another knock.

Nesta mumbled a long string of curses as she stomped to the door and threw open the door. Cassian stood there, wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt, sweating profusely, as if he’d just gone for a run.

“What the fuck?” she breathed. “You’ve lived in this shithole for two days, hardly, and you can’t seem to leave me alone.” 

He held up an envelope. “Snuck into my mailbox. Addressed to you.” 

When she didn’t reach up to grab it, he dropped it at her feet, and turned to cross the hall to his own apartment. 

When he opened the door, a golden retriever jumped up on him. He greeted the pup with a smile and scratched its head before closing the door. 

Nesta hated herself for watching. 

~~~~~

Rhysand got out of the shower and dried off his hair, his body, before pulling on a pair of jeans. When he walked into the living room, Cassian and Feyre were playing candyland with Mila on the floor while Azriel was pacing on the phone out on the balcony. 

“Did he hear something new?” Rhysand asked, opening up a water bottle. 

Cassian looked from Azriel, to Mila, who was laughing with Feyre, then to Rhysand. “Talking with the police now. Before that, the hospital called.” Rhysand cursed. Azriel’s adopted sister had put him through hell, had put Mila through hell, had put everyone through hell. 

But it always fell on Azriel’s shoulders. His parents, who had adopted him in his early teens, didn’t want anything to do with any of them - not anymore. 

“I hear you’re going out on a date,” Cassian crooned, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Forced to,” Rhysand muttered. “Got to leave soon.”

“What shirt are you wearing?” Feyre asked, Mila pulled onto her lap. “Wear the blue one. Brings out your eyes.”

“Which blue one?” he asked, downing the water bottle and throwing it across the room in the trash. “I have a closet full of blue shirts.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Make Cassian suffer while I’m gone,” Feyre told Mila, before setting her on the floor next to the game board. “You,” she said, pointing at Rhysand. “Follow me.”

Rhysand groaned as he followed Feyre into his bedroom. She was already sorting through his closet. 

“You really need to start branching out,” Feyre said, chuckling. “Everything in here looks the same. And most of it can’t be worn on a date. To the gym? Yes. On a date? No. What the hell do you find to wear to work?”

He looked down at the jeans he was wearing as he sat on the edge of his bed. “You’re looking at it.”

Feyre pulled a blue, plaid button down shirt out and yanked it off the hanger. “Put this on.”

Rhysand didn’t move as the shirt hit him in the chest. “You seem awfully pushy.” 

“I should be pushy,” she said, smiling at him as he stood and pulled the shirt on. “You deserve to have fun. You can’t just ignore women forever because I’m living with you now.” 

Rhysand hesitated, then he nodded. 

He buttoned up the shirt and pushed his sleeves up. “Alright. Good?” 

Feyre tilted her head and took him in. “The bare feet are throwing me off.” 

Rhysand chuckled. His eyes softened as he watched her, leaning up against his wall in an oversized sweatshirt. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay in tonight? I can. I don’t-”

“Rhys,” she said, arms crossed. “Go. But text me first, please, if you bring her back. That’s the last thing I wanna walk in on.”

Rhysand wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t be bringing her back, but he hesitated. One, because it would’ve brought suspicion, and two, because he really couldn’t make that promise as much was he wanted to.

The reality of it was that Rhysand hadn’t been on a date in years. It had been a while since he’d had anything and, yes, a lot of that was because of Feyre. Hell, all of that was because of Feyre. But, she didn’t want him like that, shouldn’t want him like that. Not after just getting out of a long, shitty relationship.

Not after being friends, great friends, just friends, for over ten years.

“Alright,” he settled on, at last. He pulled a brown pair of boots out of the bottom of his closet and pulled them on. “Bare feet gone. Now?”

She looked at him, chuckled, then walked toward him, slowly. She pushed his hair back and patted him on the cheek. “Very handsome.”

“I know,” Rhysand whispered, but there wasn’t quite enough snark in it as he wanted there to be. 

Rhysand went out. He met Clare at the bar. They ate, and talked, and drank, and laughed, and it was fun. Rhysand found that he was enjoying himself, which far preceded his earlier notions. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder what Feyre was doing.

Then he thought himself creepy.

They had separate lives. They were roommates. Friends.

“Rhysand?”

He blinked, coming out of his thoughts. Clare was watching him with wide, pleading eyes from across the table. 

“Sorry,” he smiled. He had already paid, and Clare had already shrugged on her jacket. “Ready?”

She nodded, smiling brightly. Clare was cute, in the obvious way. But it was all surface level beauty. She was a sweet girl, but there was no depth. They’d have nice conversation, fun conversation, but it was all small talk. He knew what she did for fun, that she liked her job, that summer was her favorite season. And he supposed that was what first dates were for - getting all the little facts out of the way. Maybe he was just over first dates. Maybe he just wanted something more. 

Rhysand took Clare home, telling her to ignore another round of public transportation, and she invited him in, but he said no. He’d told her he’d had a good time and he would call her again, sometime, and maybe he would. 

Then he drove home, and when he opened the door to their apartment, Feyre was sound asleep on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. He turned off the t.v. and covered her with a blanket before closing himself inside of his room.

Alone.

~~~~~

Elain wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t, once again.

Maybe she should stop taking the pills.

She couldn’t stop taking the pills. 

She sat in her bed, scrolling through job posts on her laptop. At first, she had been inspired. Nesta was right that morning at their lunch. She needed a job, needed to make a life for herself, needing to get out of their dad’s house.

She was too old to be living with their father, to be relying on a man that couldn’t even take care of himself. 

And yet, the longest she scrolled through the listings, the more depressed she felt. 

She was qualified for nothing.

Elain had been valedictorian of her high school class, had gone to university with honors and held the top of her class, all four years, until she graduated. She was smart, had been smart. School had been easy for her, but it did not prepare her for the real world, one bit. Even with a degree in journalism. 

A degree that never got her anywhere.

She went back to working in retail after college, until she met Graysen and fell in love with him. Along with his father, he was co-owner of their family business. For a guy in his late-twenties, he was very well off. Elain still worked, but not nearly as much, and once Elain had caught him cheating, she stopped going to work as she spiraled.

They fired her.

She hadn’t had a job in the months since. 

But now, it was time. 

The last thing she wanted to do was go back into retail, but with a degree in journalism and no jobs in that field, it wasn’t looking like she had that much of a choice. 

Multiple boutiques were hiring on the strip downtown, a department store was hiring in the mall, and she could also apply for a job in the food industry, but being around food all day was the last thing that she wanted. 

Retail it would be, then. 

She applied to a few places with her extraordinarily sad resume before calling it a night.

A strong, summer wind blew outside of her window, howling in the silence of her bedroom, as Elain closed her laptop and fell back against her pillows.

She supposed she should at least try to sleep. 

Azriel would be arriving in the morning to start on their garage. 

It wouldn’t do her any good to wake up looking like a zombie.

But the sleep never came, and she laid awake staring at the ceiling until dawn came. 

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

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[letbenfuck2021]

inside your head the sound of glass by soitgoes/fiveyavibecheck

So he’ll ruin her. To make her stay, he’ll break her down until she’s just as trapped as he is.

rating. explicit. warnings. incest/pseudo-incest, dark fic, dead dove: do not eat, dub-con written for fiveya week 2019. prompt: jealousy. ao3 link

Five is jealous. There’s no getting around it. 

He’s been stewing on the leather upholstered arm chair in the hotel’s lobby for fifteen minutes now while his siblings chatter excitedly among themselves blissfully ignorant of Five's plight. Ben, whom Five often regarded as his most intuitive sibling, is the only one who took notice of his anguish. He turns his attention from Allison, who has been explaining a meticulously planned attack on every worthy boutique in a fifteen mile radius, to give Five a concerned look. Five just glowers at his brother before sinking further into his seat.

He really shouldn't fault them for their elation. Just moments ago, Pogo informed them that they’ve all been allotted a few hours of free time. A reward on behalf of their father for a job well done. It makes them feel victorious in a way that completing a mission hasn't felt in a while.

The Paris job had been nearly flawless, no in-fighting or drama, minimal property damage. It had certainly impressed Reginald enough to grant them something as coveted and rare as unsupervised time. And all this was due in no small part to Five’s own efforts.

For years now, he’s played the part of lodestone, the linchpin in the failing mechanism that is the Umbrella Academy. No one wants to say it out loud but they can all feel how precarious their reality is. None of them want to talk about what happened in Philadelphia last year. No one wants to talk about the pale, jagged scar across Diego’s temple or Klaus’ crooked ring finger or how Ben now walks with the smallest limp, favoring his right side. But this isn’t Philadelphia and there are no scars in the making or broken bones, at least not on the Academy’s part. No, these past five days have been nearly perfect, a throwback to the glory days.

He looks around at their faces and notices that his siblings aren't just victorious or satisfied, they are  happy. And he can't even be happy for them. Instead, at the sight of their cheery banter and open smiles, all he can feel is envy that as they all prepare to set out and enjoy their morning and afternoon freely, blissfully he is left bogged down by an affliction that has a first and last name.

Five stands abruptly with enough force to send his seat screeching back a little ways. This time, all of his siblings stop to stare at him. Both Ben and Klaus seem concerned, Diego a little irritated, and Luther only stared blankly at him. Philadelphia had changed Luther most of all. The three mechanical fingers on his left hand flex ever so slightly but his expression remains cool. He almost feels sorry for his brother. It wasn't just his fingers Number One lost. It isn't until his eyes land on Number Three that any kind sympathy drained into cold, hard resentment. At least she had the decency to look sorry.

After a second, Five waved them off and left them to find Pogo. It's been years since she'd saddled him with a ball and chain with her Rumor but Five has yet to forgive her. Not that they all hadn't used their powers on each other at some point. During training, for pranks, to showboat, even just out of boredom, but what Allison did to him five years ago had changed the course of his life forever.

It's a cruel sort of irony that he, of all people, should be saddled with a ball and chain. By all laws of the universe, Five should be well on his way to the top of the world. He’s the son of one of the richest men in the world, a literal genius who can bend space and time and yet he's stuck playing cops and robbers all because of one particular phrase produced by one particular mouth.

  I heard a rumor…

In a way, it’s Five’s own fault that he’s landed himself in his current predicament. He’s always had a little bit of a rebellious streak. Blame his intellect paired with a curious nature and taste for the mischievous, but he's never been able to accept at face value the vague, foreboding explanations which seem to be the only kind that Sir Reginald knows how to give. So whether it be because of incessant questioning or outright disobedience by age thirteen, Five became such a destructive force on the team that he had nearly, single handedly dismantled the whole team.

He agitates the rivalry between Diego and Luther, indulges Klaus’ vices. As if this wasn’t bad enough, Five would constantly undermine Reginald’s authority. Whether it be on missions or during their school lessons, Five seemed to simply be incapable of behaving. Worst of all, he dared to interact, in fact seek out the company of the academy’s resident pariah, their  other  sister. Number Seven.  Vanya .

Five finds Pogo in the hotel’s smoking room. The old chimp had made himself at home with a cup of coffee, still steaming, and a newspaper pulled up in front of his face.

"I have to call home,” Five declares with a scowl.

He’s never been a fan of cigarettes, Five found it to be a nasty habit, so he finds it incredibly irritating that Pogo always seems to hole himself up in one whenever the team is granted the luxury of staying in a place swanky enough to have one. Doubly so, seeing as Pogo did not smoke.

Pogo’s fingers make deft work of folding his newspaper down so he can look over at his young charge and he frowns at the sight. Pogo had known Number Five all his life. There had been a time when Five had shone brightest among his siblings. Intelligent, inquiring, Pogo had hoped that at least he would be able to escape Reginald’s grasp but as it turned out, his master’s reach was far longer and more sinister than any of them could have imagined.

“Number Five! Shouldn’t you be planning out your day like the rest of your sib-”

Five cuts him off.

“I didn’t come here for pleasantries, Pogo. Just give me the card.”

Pogo pauses a moment and takes a good hard look at the young man before him. This fall, he and his siblings will be eighteen, legally free of their father’s hold but in all other ways completely trapped. To anyone else, Number Five must seem a handsome and driven young man. In press conferences, he was amicable and charming enough to be approachable but he was also careful to cultivate an air of respectability as well. Though Luther still held the position of Number One, Pogo, and the old chimp suspected everyone else, knew that it was Five who pulled the strings on this team. But looking at Five now, he saw not the intriguing young man or even the iron-fisted leader that the public and his siblings saw. Pogo only saw a sad young man marred by his affliction.

“You can save the pitying looks, old man,” Five practically growls. “Give. Me. The card.”

He grinds out the last words from between his gritted teeth. His eyes shine a little, bright blue and burning with a frenzy that is not unlike the look Pogo had seen in Klaus’ eyes after spending a few days locked down in some dungeon beneath the mansion. His were the eyes of a man who had been denied his fix for too long. Six days without it had left Five brittle and Pogo had learned better than to bait him in this state. So he quickly fishes the telephone card from inside his vest pocket and hands it over. Without so much as a word of thanks, Five snatches it from his hand and leaves.

Five thinks that it must have been his attachment to Vanya that finally tipped their father over the edge, either that or Reginald realized that it was something he could use. Even before Allison rumored him, Five had always been fond of Vanya. Partly because he knew it pissed his father off but more so because she was so completely separated from the bullshit and melodrama that came with being part of the illustrious Umbrella Academy. At first, it truly had been a passing fancy to seek out Vanya’s company. He was curious about the sibling that he and the rest had been separated from since they were four. He had expected her to be dull. Plain little Number Seven had no powers, no special abilities. As their father had driven into their heads for as long as he could remember, Number Seven was not like them, she was ordinary and they all insinuated that this meant she was worthy of nothing more than their scorn and occasionally their pity. But when he actually started speaking and spending time with her Five was delighted to find that she was a wealth of entertainment. She’s easy to tease and unlike their other siblings who had been trained to be as ruthless and barbed to attack, Vanya reacts usually with a shy blush or a stuttering reply that often results in her turning her face to the floor and scurrying away. It’s fun. It’s like having a new toy to take apart, to understand, and to ultimately put back together again.

Ultimately, Five finds that Vanya is a perfectly good way to pass the time. It isn’t until the first time things go bad on a mission, bad enough to send all of them reeling to the brink, that Five realizes just how much he needed Vanya. It’s a relief to be with her. The reality she populated was not pitious like he had been taught to believe but was envious. The world she lived in wasn’t awash with blood and violence. He knows that she hates her plainness, her mundanity but it's a blessing to Five. It's like air, like something precious. She is free in a way that none of the others ever would be. Or at least, she had been.

It takes him very little time to find the international phone booths. Somehow, they're always in the same place in the lavish, extravagant hotels that Reginald likes them to hold press conferences in. Though, he only does this once their missions are complete. Despite being the children of a billionaire, none of the Hargreeves children had ever seen the inside of these lavish rooms to do much more than shower and prepare for the reporters..

He moves as quickly as possible though the steps needed to place an international call. It’s tedious but he never hesitates to do it. Once the operator puts him through, he hears a dial tone and after a single ring, Grace picks up. She's pleasant as always and attempts to carry on that uniquely odd version of small talk that's been programmed into her system but Five has no time for it and makes his demand quickly and curtly. There's a tense pause, before she responds with a placid, of course dear.

He knows that Grace is looking to his father to grant permission. There’s no doubt in his mind that the old coot had been waiting for him. Five moves like clockwork now, he does the old man’s dirty work and immediately comes crawling for his fix. Five knows also that a call had already been made home informing Reginald of their success and Five's instrumental role in it. The silence as he waits seems to stretch on forever until there is a small sound of a receiver being lifted from its cradle. It's so soft and small that most people probably never take notice of it. But it's nearly pavlovian for Five, already his blood is pounding in his ears and when her small, thin voice dribbles over the line, he can barely breathe.

"Five?" she mumbles, her voice scratching with sleep.

"Hey, did I wake you?" his voice sounds almost as hoarse as hers.

Five doesn't know why he asks. He'd already known he would wake her. It's 10 am in Paris but it's only 4 back home. It's a silly question and like most of his irrational behaviors, Five chocks his irrationality up to his  condition.  

Vanya hums a disgruntled confirmation of his assumption. For a moment he allows himself to imagine her standing in their father's still-dark house. She's probably using the phone near the staircase that leads up to their rooms. She'd still be in her pajamas, cheeks a little flushed, hair still tousled from sleep. Just envisioning her helps to soothe the aching emptiness within him. It's both a relief and a bitter pill to swallow that she has such an effect on him.

It hadn't always been this way between them. Though Five had always held a greater fondness for Vanya than their other siblings, it wasn't ever like how it is now. Just the sound of her voice causes him to feel lighter, more at ease. It's a need, a compulsion to be near her, to hear her, feel her. It's like a drug and when she sleepily says his name, confused by his sudden silence, he can understand Klaus' predilection for addictive substances. But there's no way for him to simply enjoy the high because it's evidence of Reginald's hold on him.

It happens when they’re fourteen. Five has a hard time remembering clearly what had happened, a particularly strange experience considering his eidetic memory. He remembers that he had convinced Vanya to sneak out with him to Griddy’s instead of attending Latin. With his abilities, sneaking out of the mansion was easy-pickings. Convincing Vanya to sneak out with him was not. He remembers kissing her in the sticky vinyl booths in front of a scandalized waitress and how her mouth tasted of sugar and coffee. He remembers sliding his hand over her left hip and the smell of yeasted donuts frying in oil. But other than that, there's a sizable gap in his memory of that day. It was a tricky side-effect of Allison’s power. He can’t even remember the exact command she gave him, only her three words and then, searing pain.

"Five?" she says sounding more awake all of a sudden, her tone is urgent. "Why are you calling, did - did something happen? Is everyon-"

He clicked his tongue in distaste.

"Everyone else is fine," he grumbled. "It's  me you should be worried about."

Five didn't want to spend their time talking about the others.

"Did something happ-oh god, Five wh-why wha-"

She's fully awake now, stuttering over the phone. Five relishes how distraught she sounds over him. He lets her panic a few seconds longer before shushing her.

"Nothing like that, V. I just miss you," he says pressing the receiver to his ear trying to hear every tiny reaction she might give him.

He hears her sigh and it sounds like she’s landed somewhere between relief and irritation. Five has become an expert at analyzing her every sound, expression, and movement.

"You can’t mess with me like that,” she scolds already sounding tired again.

Five checks his watch and trains his voice to be as pathetic as possible

"I'm not. It feels like I'm dying. I wish you were here," he croons although to any passersby, Five could have been talking about the weather for all they knew.

Her silence after he says this could go either way. It is now 4:05 am and he’s hoping that she’ll opt to stay with him a little longer.

“I have to go back to sleep, Five,” she murmurs, her voice sounds as though her throat is constricting around tears and they very well may be.

“No,” he pleads, his expression never shifting. “Stay with me a little longer, just a little, Vanya.”

Over the years since Vanya had become the unwilling planet around which his universe tilts, Five had become adept at prying out of her whatever morsel of time and attention he could. Being a Hargreeves, he had no qualms about playing dirty. Guilt was usually Vanya’s soft spot. She was especially good at being contrite.

“Five,” she seems to hesitate and Five thinks perhaps he’s won.

If all she wanted to do was breathe over the receiver for the next few hours while he sat and listened, Five would be more than happy. It was physically painful to be away from her thanks to Allison’s Rumor. His need for her hollowed him, left him ragged and gaunt. It was easier to ignore the further away he was and when he could distract himself with planning out strategic attacks, risking his and his siblings lives, but as soon as the dust settled he was left again with the vast emptiness of her absence and nothing would soothe it except her.

“I have to go to bed,” it would have been better if she’d stabbed him. “Dad scheduled me a lesson in a couple hours.”

“So just stay up. Stay with me until you have to get ready,” and finally his expression matches his tone.

The prospect of hanging the phone on the receiver, of disconnecting from her sends a shockwave of pain through him that leaves him a little winded.

“I can’t, Five. I have to be at my best. It’s a new teacher and I wanna make a good impression.”

“Va-”

“I’ll come see you as soon as you get home.”

Vanya’s learned to play their game as well.

“I promise, Five. As soon as you get home, even if dad tells me not to, I’ll come see you.”

He mulls this over. There’s no doubt that after how well he did that Reginald would not bar him from Vanya. Her offer is practically moot. He could continue his ploy, play on her guilt until she gave in but he knows that if he does Vanya is just as likely to double down as she is to fold. And although their father is unlikely to restrict his access, Vanya might.

“You  promise ,” he murmurs.

“I do, I promise, Five.”

She sounds sincere. Five had always been under the impression that Vanya was incapable of lying. And to be fair, she hardly ever did but over the years he’s found that Vanya was more than capable of duplicity when she put her mind to it.

“Fine. We get back at 6:34pm,” he hears silence. “Are you nodding?”

“Oh!” she lets out a breathy giggle and Five feels his chest tighten. “Sorry - I mean - okay, I’ll see you then.”

Her voice already sounds far away when she mumbles, “bye, Five.”

A bout of panic rolls through him and Five is suddenly overcome with the urge to beg her now to hang up. He feels the pathetic plea bubbling up in his throat. He feels on fire with the anticipation of severing this one line of connection, even as flimsy as it is. His lips are already wrapped around the syllables of her name when he hears the line go dead. He listens to the low tone until it cuts off and leaves him in the noise of the hotel lobby that’s begun to pick up as the morning goes on. When he returns to his seat in the lobby, his siblings are nowhere to be found. He sits again on the upholstered chair and leans back and imagines Vanya going back up to her room, her bare feet shifting over the floor, the rustle of sheets as she slides into bed. He wishes more than anything he could be there with her and he hates himself for it.

###

The flight home is as dull as it usually is. Despite Reginald’s stinginess when it comes to their lodgings, he sees the utility in having a private mode of international travel saving them from the horrors of commercial airline flight. As per usual, Number Two attempts to mask his anxiety about flying with aggression and rage. And it isn't until Klaus slips something in Diego’s drink that he’s compliant enough to get onto the plane. This results in Klaus attaching himself to a mostly catatonic Diego and Ben scurrying after. Allison and Luther hovel together at the back of the plane and keep to their own devices.

When they get home and pile into the foyer, the entire Umbrella Academy is exhausted but they all file into the drawing room for debriefing. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Five that Vanya is absent. Already, he is beginning to feel frantic. In his head he chants over and over,  she promised, she promised.  

Reginald is already waiting for them and though the procedure could not have taken any more than ten minutes, it feels like an eternity to Five. He can't stop himself from continually glancing at the room's entrance, hoping that the double sliding doors will open and she will emerge but she never does. His jaw is clenched so tightly that he thinks he might shatter his teeth. As soon as Reginald releases them he jumps to his room.

“Oh!” he hears as he rematerializes in his own room with practiced ease in a pop of blue.

The dimensional energy is still shifting around him when Five turns to find Vanya sitting leisurely on his bed. She looks so casual with her back against the wall and one of his books nestled on her laps between her thighs. Her ankles are crossed over one another as they dangle over the edge of his bed. Beneath her feet is his suitcase. Grace must have brought it up during their debrief.

“Five!” Vanya says as she scrambles off the bed. “Dad said you were all home but he felt it was best for me to wait up here.”

For you.  

That was the unspoken notion at the end of her words. She had been waiting for him here, as pretty as a present ready to pay their father's dues. It should make him happy to see her, elated even but he feels sour instead. A dead dial tone is still ringing in his ears.

"Well this is a surprise," he lies.

She's visibly uncomfortable, uncertain of the playing field.

"W-well I said I would come see you."

“I recall you saying ‘as soon as you get home’,” he recites easily for her.

Unconsciously, Vanya takes her left middle and ring fingers in her right hand. She squeezes both slowly, over and over. It’s a habit she’s picked up over the years. He winces at the memory of her two digits bent out of their sockets with a sickening pop.

“You still blame me for that then,” he says.

His words make her freeze mid squeeze and she drops her fingers as though she's been burned.

“I never blamed you," she says. "It wasn’t your fault.”

The words spill from her mouth easily like she’s been practicing them as much as she practices her violin. He takes a step towards her and he's glad she doesn't scurry backwards. It’s like trying to resist gravity approaching her slowly like this. His body strains against his restraint but he goes slow. Vanya likes it better when he goes slow.

"You only ever do it around me,” he says closing the distance between them inch by inch.

Her hands twitch towards one another.

"It  was my fault,” he continues as he reaches out and takes her left hand in his own. “It was my idea to try to make a run for it.”

They were fifteen and his new manacles had begun to chafe enough to spark his creativity. It would be a lie if he said he didn’t think of abandoning her but even imagining being away from her at that point was painful. So he’d convinced her to come with him. He fed her words of love and adoration even though resentment was squating in his chest and she’d barely resisted. It took their siblings mere hours to find them. Five had come out of the ordeal with little more than a few bruises but Vanya, she had to wear a cast for weeks. Grace put her through a strict physical therapy regimen and all in all the fingers had healed beautifully and if her playing was any different, he was unable to tell. Just a small scar that ran across her two fingers remained. Five touched it reverently. The thin, jagged line was almost imperceptible now but it never left his mind. Some days, it was all he could see when he looked at her.

“You didn’t speak to me for over a month. It was hell.”

He’d gotten his revenge. The three mechanical fingers on his brother’s left hand were a reminder to everyone but most of all to their father that Five would not suffer any injury to Vanya. And though Reginald did not take kindly to his favorite toy being broken, Five had taken his punishment gladly, knowing that the old man had gotten the message.

“You know I didn’t mean it to be like that. It wasn’t just you, I didn’t speak to anyone,” she says as her fingers tense beneath his touch.

She had been a stone. For weeks, she sat in the infirmary unresponsive and unreactive to everything around her. It wasn’t the pain or the physical wound that had broken her. Without her left hand, she wouldn’t be able to play. The threat of that loss had hung heavily in the air like the silence that fell oppressively over the academy. None of them had realized how used to the sound of the violin they had become accustomed to until it had disappeared completely. Five turns his eyes to her face, her wide eyes are still guarded, unsure but he sees there a hope that perhaps he’ll play nice today.

"So. Uh - I guess I'll head out, let you unpack and get some rest,” she murmurs awkwardly, bowing her head.

He’s got her nearly backed up against the edge of her bed but there’s still enough room for her step away and maneuver around him. Vanya makes a beeline for the door but before she can make it there he stops her.

"Wait,” he says and she halts.

Five takes a seat on his bed and watches as she slowly turns to face him. She’s like a frightened fawn, poised to dash away at a moment’s notice.

“C'mere,” he says sweetly as though he means to coax a wild animal into a trap.

"I should go,” she breathes but even as she says this she’s turning from the door, inching towards him.

"Why?” he says lightly but there’s a darkness in his tone. “You got somewhere better to be? Just come here for a moment.”

She’s less than a foot away when he reaches out again and takes her hand in his. Such a small, dainty thing, from what he knows of the violin, Five thinks she must have the perfect hands for it. He puts his lips to her knuckles, drags them across the scar she got for him. When he looks up from her fingers, he finds her eyes fluttering closed. It’s reassuring to know that even this small touch has an effect on her. Though it isn’t enough, it is never enough.

She’s very plain, his sister. Her face still rounded with baby fat and flat dark hair that only lends to her roundness. Whereas their other sister had matured and blossomed, Vanya had largely stayed the same. Her large brown eyes and tiny button nose left her looking more akin to a mouse than a beauty. And yet, despite all this, he loves her. Desperately, he loves her. There’s no denying it. What Allison rumors becomes a fact. But it wasn’t just love the Rumor gave him, it was  need, frantic, desperate, burning need. He leans into and presses his lips to the corner of her little pink mouth.

“Five. We  agreed .”

He looks up at her and tilts his head to the side with feigned confusion. He’s almost the same height as her even when sitting. Vanya had failed to grow vertically as well as in looks. She was hardly an inch taller than when they were fourteen and he dwarfed her when he stood at full his height which was fast approaching six feet.

“We don’t indulge the rumor any more than we have to,” she says and pulls her hand back.

And he lets her but turns his attention to the buttons on her shirt. Vanya was no longer permitted to wear the academy uniform. Reginald had enrolled her in a private school in the city and now she mostly wore the pleated skirts and plain white button downs that they required. He likes these uniforms better than the jumpers that Reginald had stuck her in before. These were much easier to get into.

“No.  I agreed,” he says as he fingers the little plastic button that sits just above her belly button. “You said that you didn’t want to take advantage of me and I agreed because I know how you so  loathe to be the bad guy, my dearest sister.”

She’s quiet above him but he knows that her thoughts must be churning.

"But you’re not taking advantage of me, I’m taking advantage of you.”

He looks up at her again to see her baffled. He laughs unkindly.

“Don’t you get it, V?” he says hooking one of his fingers into the open space between two buttons. “You're my  reward ."

His finger brushes the soft smooth skin of her belly and Vanya grimaces, a look of such disgust colors her face that he suddenly feels like he wants to throttle her. Just moments ago, she was shuddering at his kisses but now she looks like she wants to hurl. Five twists his fist into her shirt, ruining the once-pristinely ironed fabric and pulls her forward.

"Don’t play dumb. You think I don’t know why you’re up here? Did Dad tell you what a good job I did for him? Wanna hear how many I killed for  you  , just to get back to  you  ? Wanna know what it was like to slit their throats, what they said as I drained the life from them? It's so  ironic how chatty people feel as soon as they have a knife in their throat."

Vanya’s reaction is immediate, she jerks away, stepping back as though to make for the door but his grip on her shirt doesn’t budge. Five tugs her forward and doesn’t miss the feel of her exposed belly beneath his knuckles. It sends a shudder down his spine. He feels ravenous, like he’s been starving for days and has been presented with a feast. Five pulls her closer again so that her face is nearly pressed into his chest.

“Don’t do that, Vanya. Don’t run away like this isn’t about you. This  shit  is yours as much as it is mine,” he whispers hoarsely into the crown of her head.

This is  their burden, a cage built for two.

Vanya relaxes a little, her shoulders drop and the tension in her shoulders melts away. A shuddery breath escapes her lips as she turns her face to his. She looks almost as tired as he feels.

“What do you want from me?”

A silly question.

“What I always want, Vanya.  You .”

It isn’t just that he loves her. He had loved her before Allison rumored him but thanks to her rumor, now he  needed her. Being separated from Vanya was agony for him. He feels as though someone has ripped out his intestines and sent him walking, trailing his entrail out behind. If he can’t touch her, then he needs to see her, and if he can’t have that then he needed to at least hear her. Ironically enough, the further away he got from her the easier it was. While distance didn’t erase the hollow aching, it helped dull his awareness of it. The pain was at its pinnacle when she was close by but just out of reach. Reginald, once he realized this, made great use of his newfound tool of control.

"Come on, Vanya,” he croons trying sweetness again.

Vanya likes it when he’s sweet. He unfurls his fist and flattens the fabric over her stomach.

“It’s not like we haven’t before. Didn’t you like it the last time?"

Last week had been a dream. Five always felt the rumor’s pull just before long absences and knowing this about him, Vanya was usually more pliable. He'd finally convinced her to let him try eating her out. He had been obsessing over it for nearly a month, the thought of her spread out like a meal before him, of tonguing her inside her, tasting her from the inside was enough to make him dizzy. She'd been hesitant at first and it was new for both of them but Five had always been a dedicated learner and a quick study. He’d had her gasping for air and clawing at his scalp in practically no time.

Vanya bites her lip and considers his words then with shaky hands she begins to unbutton her shirt. Five leans back half in awe and half in smug satisfaction. When she gets to the last button, he leans forward and pushes her shirt open with both hands reverently. He splays his hands over her skin. She feels so warm and soft and  good that he nearly sobs in relief. Pushing his right cheek against her belly, he wraps his arms around her middle and pulls her between his legs.

“Five,” Vanya gasps. “Are you sure you want -”

“Don’t ask me that,” he cuts her off sharply. “I always want this.  Always . I don’t have a choice.”

He places a kiss above her navel. Vanya is staring down at him with a pained expression. Five reaches up and pinches one of her cheeks and smiles indulgently.

“Don’t look like that. You’re helping me,” he murmurs and begins to place open mouthed kisses up the center of her body. “You make it better, Vanya. You make it all worth it.”

Five sucks bright red spots over her abdomen as his fingers run up and down her sides. Above him he hears Vanya sighing and gasping with every wet pop of his mouth as it releases her skin. He feels her legs shaking between his thighs as he surveys his work. Her once-pale skin is speckled pink and his spit glitters on her skin. Her face is flushed and turned away.

“Well, I think I’ve had enough,” he says and he’s delighted when she turns to startled at his admission. “You can go now if you want. I won’t stop you.”

She stands there dumbfounded as he leans back on his palms. Her eyes dart around the room and back to his face, uncertain.

“Unless, you want more?”

Vanya worries her bottom lip as she considers again what she should do. Then after a few moments, she begins to slip her shirt from her shoulders.

“Atta girl,” he jeers.

She shoots him a hurt look but doesn’t pause as she begins to reach behind to undo her bra. He always likes watching her undress. It is strangely not a sexual desire. There’s something beautiful to him about her peeling back the layers and layers between them to stand naked before him. Sometimes, Five likes to sit on her bed in the mornings and watch her dress for school and when she comes home in the evenings, he watches her undress again. It’s a process that fascinates him to no end. One day, he’d like to dress her himself. He’s already gotten good at the undressing.

As she wrestles with the clasp at her back, Five runs his hands up her thighs to hook his fingers in the elastic of her cotton panties. He slides them down her thighs to her ankles and she lifts each of her feet as he removes them completely. Vanya moves to undo her skirt as well but he stops her.

“I like it on," Five shrugs.

He stands guides her towards his bed and situates her on the edge. Vanya folds her arms over her chest. It's sweet the way she still tries for modesty even when there's no such thing between them now. Five kneels down and gently lowers her arms. Vanya is still hesitant, resisting ever so slightly but he presses a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist and she folds. He trails more kisses up her arm and across her chest. Five feels her dip backwards baring herself more for him.

Five places a kiss at the center of her chest and flicks his tongue to taste the soft flesh there. Vanya hisses and twists at the sensation. To the left, he leaves a sticky, wet trail until he reaches the soft peak of her nipple. It's already tight and pert, begging for a taste. Five sends a hot puff of air from his mouth and she shivers in his arms.

"Your tits are so sensitive," he muses against her skin.

He breathes again over there nipple as Vanya squirms. Then with no preamble, he reaches up and flicks the little numb and Vanya yelps. Hips buck and she whines as he takes it between his fingers and rolls.

"Fuh-fah," Vanya chokes on his name.

" So sensitive," he murmurs and with her nipple still puckered between his fingers he drags his tongue over it.

"Ah!  Shit ," Vanya says causing a stream of laughter to tumble from his mouth.

Vanya practically vibrates when he scrapes his teeth over the pert little nub letting loose another spout of profanity. Though usually sweet and passive, Vanya was prone to cursing when she was pushed to very edges of pleasure. It only made him work harder, push her further. If he had it his way, they’d do nothing but sit in his bed and work her over until she forgot her own name.

Vanya’s nearly out of her mind when Five finally leans back to survey his handiwork. She’s an obscene sight in nothing but her pleated skirt, spread out across his bed like a buffet. Her pale skin is littered with teeth marks and hickeys and he ghosts a hand over them as though he’s tracing the letters of his name. He wants to press into every inch of her his ownership. It is true that he is trapped by her but each time they’re together, she is just a little more ruined, a little more broken. Soon, she’ll be just as trapped as he is.

At least he hopes so.

Five glances up to find Vanya watching him, her eyes dark with desire as she watches him straighten to his full height. Without needing to be asked, she scoots backwards and lifts her legs. And though her face is flushed with embarrassment, her eyes never leave his as she spreads her thighs and lets her skirt fall back on her belly. Her heels find the edge of the bed as she opens herself to him.

Five is the one to break first, eyes dropping to the apex of her thighs. He can’t help himself. He loves the look of her cunt. Already she’s glistening, her folds slick with desire. He remembers tonguing her open, tasting her arousal on his tongue as she whimpered above him. His mouth is watering with the memory but while it's a tempting thought, he can’t wait. He has to be in her.

With his thumb, he presses her apart. Vanya gasps at the contact and when his eyes dart up to her, he finds her eyes glued to cunt as well. He wonders idly if she too is as entranced by the beauty of it. As though she can feel his eyes, she looks up and meets his eyes looking desperate. A whimper escapes her trembling mouth and it feels good. It feels so fucking good to see her look as pathetic and needy as he feels.

“You should see your face, V,” he says. “Why insist on denying that you want this just as much as I do, I’ll never know.”

Vanya winces as though he’s slapped her but before she can curl up into herself, Five finds the little hard nub of her clit and presses. She spasms as a shockwave rolls through her.

“Fuck,” she sobs and chews on the air for a moment trying to find her bearings but he doesn’t let her.

With practiced deftness, he removes himself from his pants and nudges her thighs further apart. She’s reeling when he pushes in the head of his erection. Vanya lets loose a low hiss and throws her head back. Her left hand is fisting his comforter while the other is against the wall behind her, digging into the paint.

“FiveFiveFive,” she chants frantically as he begins to slip further into her.

Her pleas are somewhere between terrified and desperate. He can’t quite be sure because he can’t see her face. His eyes are glued to the mesmerizing sight of her tiny cunt stretching to accommodate him as he pushes into her. It’s truly a wonder. Everything about Vanya is so tiny. Tiny waist, tiny mouth, her little dainty hands so it’s no surprise that her pussy would be so small and adorable. The first time they fucked, he’d almost thought it would be impossible to fit inside her. But he feels silly for ever thinking such a thing. Of course she’d be able to take him, she was made for him. She was perfect, perfectly made just for him.

He goes slow at first. It’s still so new for her, for the both of them really. It still feels raw, like  ripping open a freshly healed wound and letting it bleed out. A sigh escapes his mouth as he sinks into her, eyes fluttering closed, head falling back. It’s beyond physical, what he feels when he’s inside her. Of course she feels amazing. Her cunt is warm and wet and so fucking good but it’s more than that. It’s as though he'd been holding his breath all this time and just now he'd finally been allowed to inhale. It’s as though he’d just been made whole. It’s as though he’s finally come home.

A part of him is distantly aware that the intensity of what he feels, the way he feels it is unnatural. It’s part of the rumor, albeit an unintended side effect. All his father had been looking for was a way to control him and though he got it, Five is now reaping the benefits, however scarce and fleeting they may be.

"Five," he hears from beneath him.

He looks down to find Vanya a mess. Her face is flushed, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Vanya always gets so overwhelmed when they fuck. He thought that perhaps it was just the first time, he’d tried his best to make it good for her but he knew it hurt. He’d kept the red-stained pair of cotton panties she’d worn that day, hidden it deep in his wardrobe away from any prying eyes or greedy hands that might take it from him.

But even after she’d healed, after it started to feel good for her too, Vanya still cried. Though, Vanya had always been a cry baby, crying even for the ants they used to crush out in the courtyard for fun. A tear buds at the corner of her eye and before it can slide down the side of her face into her hair, he catches it on his thumb. Not thinking anything of it, Five brings the pad of his thumb to his mouth and puts it to his tongue. It tastes of salt and just the slightest bit of her sweat. He’s learned not to take her tears personally, now it’s just nice to know she’s so moved.

“Five, please,” she whines followed by a low moan that gurgles at the back of her throat when he rolls his hips forward pushing into her fully.

“That what you wanted, sis? Feel better?”

She whines in response, too overwhelmed to form any intelligible response.

“You like being full huh?” then again more desperately, “you  like it. You want this, just as much as I do. Don’t you, Vanya?”

He wants her to agree, wants her to tell him she loves him too, needs him as much as he needs her. But that’s impossible. There’s no one in the whole world who understands what he feels.

Five shifts back, pulling out of her fully and slamming back into her with enough force to send her little tits bouncing. He reaches up and rolls one little nub between his forefinger and thumb and Vanya yelps at the sensation. He’s recently realized that she likes it when he plays with her tits while he’s inside her. Five pulls on her little nipple causing her to keen loudly and leans down to place a kiss on her temple.

“We should be like this all the time,” he murmurs into her hairline where a sheen of sweat has begun to form.

He stills and just enjoys the feeling of being inside her. So warm and safe and whole, he could stay like that forever. He could have died happy there sunken into the core of her, the smell of her sweat and tears mixing into the smell of sex. His head drops down to the crook of her neck and he breathes in deeply the heady scent of her.

“F-five,” he hears her mumble.

He loves the sound of his name as it dribbles from her mouth half delirious with need. Her hands have found their way to his shoulders where her nails are digging little crescents into his skin just shy of drawing blood. He feels the pressure of her hips as she press up into him.

“I need more, please Five pleasepleaseplease,” she sobs. “I need you.”

Five feels his heart expand. He always loves her best when she’s undone. He can’t deny her when she’s being so honest. He sets a brutal pace, slamming into her hard enough to bruise but Vanya only sighs in relief at the friction.

“You feel so good, Vanya,” he huffs as he picks up pace, he feels his own face flushing. “No one else could ever feel this good for me. No one else. No one.”

Her breathing has gone ragged, a harsh, unruly tempo against the measured slap of skin against skin. He slips his thumb into her open mouth, pressing down on her tongue. It makes her gag a little and as she chokes her teeth come slamming down on his knuckle. Then she bites down, hard enough to draw blood and sends him over the edge, spilling into her. He cries out, an indecipherable mess of sound as he feels her clench around him as she cums. His eyes screw shut, behind them is nothing but searing emptiness as he sinks into bliss.

    He collapses against her, half kneeling and half laying on her. Beneath him, he feels the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she wiggles beneath his weight. She shifts a little, as though to pull away but he slips his hand under her ass and pushes her hips into his. Vanya grunts, she’s still too sensitive but he doesn’t want to pull out of her yet. He stays there, pressed into her for a few minutes are Vanya’s breathing evens out beneath him.

He’s told no one this but it hurts when he pulls out of her. The loss of connection is like ripping his own arm off.  Vanya slides her shaking arms around his neck, presses her cheek against his and even a few hesitant kisses to the shell of his ear. She’s so sweet after she cums, not withholding and flighty like she usually is. She’s more honest when she’s under him, when he’s inside her and he is always loath to bring it to an end but his legs are beginning to ache and his back is sore as well. The last six days of keeping his brothers and sisters in line and alive is starting to take its toll.

Her arms come undone from his neck with little resistance. When he leans back, Five finds Vanya already half asleep. Her eyes are dull, lids fluttering. Her body has gone slack with exhaustion and satiation. He hauls himself up, wincing as he slides out of her, to undress but he pauses a moment to take in the mess he's made of her.

At some point, she'd lost her footing and now her legs lay dangling just above the floor, spread wide. Her skirt lies in a wrinkled heap across her stomach leaving her messy little pussy completely exposed. His cum is still sliding out of her down to her ass and onto the comforter beneath. It's obscene but she doesn't even seem to register it.

The sight of her has him half hard already but he knows Vanya will need some time before she's ready again. Five strips down before turning his attention back to her. He replaces her skirt over her thighs, smoothing the fabric down so that the wrinkled fabric lays as flat as it can. He really does enjoy the skirt but it needs to come off. After appreciating his handiwork for a moment, he finds the zipper on her right hip and loosens it enough to slide the garment over her legs.

Vanya shifts a little while he works and as soon as her legs are free, she folds her legs into her middle and turns on her side. Five attempts to usher her over to the far side of his bed, but she resists.

"Don't be a brat," he murmurs but with no real malice behind the words.

Vanya cracks an eye to glare at him but eventually she crawls across his bed. Turning her back to him, Vanya tucks herself tightly against his bedroom wall. He stares for a moment at the smooth, unmarked expanse of her back. With a steady hand, he reaches out to brush his fingertips over the curve of her spine. Then, as if scalded, Vanya jumps and curls further into herself away from his touch.

His blood runs cold. The drone of a dead dial tone is ringing in his ear again and he is suddenly awash with the urge to tear into her, rip her back to him and shake her until she promises to never do that again. But an instant after the immediate blaze, his rage cools into bitterness. Her aloofness no longer came as a surprise.

In his worst moments, Five is racked by the fear that she will leave. As their eighteenth birthday draws closer, it becomes a more imminent possibility that Vanya might just disappear. She’s the only one of them who has the chance at any kind of normal life. Reginald had kept her presence almost entirely scrubbed from the media. Though the existence of a seventh baby was widely publicized, Hargreeves had paid an exorbitant amount of money to have it explained away. In theory, Vanya could leave any time she wants.

It isn't that he doesn't understand. The rumor doesn't turn him stupid. Vanya is afraid because she isn't stupid either. They both know that this is a lie, a fabrication created by three words spilled forth by a specific tongue. And for now, she can comfort herself with the belief in her helplessness. For now, they are both prisoners but Vanya is waiting for the day when he’ll wake up and look at her with disgust and accusation, finally free of his curse. There’s really no telling how long Allison’s abilities can last. As far as Five knows, his condition is the most persistent so far.

And on that day, everything will end. He'll be free but, he fears, also at a loss. Nothing will ever feel as good as being with her. As low as he can get without her, the high he experiences when he’s with her or at least when he's inside her, they're perfect. It's been carved into him, the craving, the ache and so too is the sweet relief and high that comes with indulging his addiction. He knows - he knows that this isn't real, but it feels real. And every day that passes, every moment that goes by, that distinction matters less and less.

So he’ll ruin her. To make her stay, he’ll break her down until she’s just as trapped as he is. Five palms her hip and coaxed her onto her back. A low whine rumbles in her chest but she doesn’t resist when he climbs in besides her and skates his hand up under legs and down between her thighs. He watches her face closely as she unfurls from her short nap, coming alive under his ministrations. Still slick with both his cum and hers, she takes his two fingers easily. Her thighs fall open without hesitation, tilting her hips to take him in deeper.

“Five.”

She moans his name so sweetly that he can almost believe that she could feel for him half of what he feels for her. In his head, the dead dial tone is still ringing but louder is the small hope that he's too afraid to voice.

  This is real, this is real. It can work. She loves me enough for this to work.

It isn’t the rumor he needs to get rid of, Five thinks darkly to himself. He just needs to dispose of the person holding the leash.

[imbeccablee]

HAPPY BIRTH TO OUR LITTLE GREEN FERAL BOI-HC about how his birthday were when he was younger compared to now? (bonus points for Mama Inko being the only constant and for steadily more and more people being at his parties and deku having no idea how to deal with so many people who love him)

oh you KNOW I'm here for that Izuku angst!!! (sorry this is late, I didnt see this until yesterday night lmao)

before Izuku was diagnosed, he would invite katsuki and those other boys over after daycare. it would always be a little awkward bc technically those other boys are more katsuki's friends than Izuku's but their parents made them go anyway bc it was the nice thing to do

oftentimes the rest of the party would end up with the boys playing with Izuku's new toys (which made him a lil upset but his mom says he should share and not be selfish and besides, these are his friends, he wants them to like him, so its whatever. it is) and also playing Heroes (this is the one of the few times Izuku is allowed to play a hero with katsuki (bc theres no way in heck katsuki would play a villain) and Izuku LIVES for it)

usually the other boys will leave and katsuki will spend the night. this is always the best part for Izuku because, while katsuki does keep showing off, it's almost softer in a way, like the fact that it's just the two of them, alone, with the rest of the world shut out makes katsuki relax and unwind. izuku doesnt understand why katsuki isnt like this all the time. he doesnt know how to ask, either.

this of course ends with his fifth birthday. the months following his fourth, he eagerly awaits the arrival of his quirk, but it never shows. a week after his fifth birthday (which had been even more awkward and embarrassing since his quirk still hadn't manifested), he is diagnosed. and, well, nobody wanted to go to his party after that.

the kids thought he was weird and lame and the parents were afraid their own kids would hurt him somehow if they were to come over, because they all believed the quirkless to be weak and fragile. this of course also meant that none of the kids were allowed to invite him over to their parties, the only exception being katsuki's. and then katsuki fell off a log into a shallow river and izuku tried to help him up and, well.

he still invites people, oh yes. the first few years, he makes little invitation cards drawn in all might colors and an enthusiastic "you're invited!" on the front. inko, the sweetheart, helps put them in envelopes and carefully stored them in Izuku's backpack and Izuku passes them out. the first time no one shows, izuku is devastated. the second time, after yet another year of being downgraded and belittled and beaten and ignored, he is still devastated, but he is not surprised. the third time, it aches and aches and aches, and he decides he's not going to make cards anymore. it's just a waste of time and paper.

inko tried so very hard. those first few birthdays After were completely unsalvageable, but after the third (when Izuku accepted no one would come) they got better. izuku was still sad and inko was still guilty, but they always had a lovely time with katsudon and cake and all might specials. sometimes, his dad would even remember to call and wish him a happy birthday. izuku was- well, not happy, but content. he had his mother. he had his conviction, his dream. what else could he need?

(he steadfastly ignored the longing, the ache. nothing he could do would fix it so there was no point in dwelling on it. it was stupid to feel that way anyway. his birthday was just another day of the week, the month, the year. it didnt matter. he shouldnt feel so bad about it. it didnt matter)

he didn't even think about telling all might his birthday. by the time he was 14 going on 15, he didnt really care about it. it had just been a day he got a gift or two from his mother, his favorite dinner, and a night spent rewatching all might documentaries or movies or interviews. you know, like basically every night, but like, older this time. so he doesnt mention it and all might never brought it up, so his 15th birthday comes and goes like every other birthday did after his 8th.

the truth of the matter was all might figured Izuku would mention it at some point during his training, like offhandedly saying he had to get home early so he could have a celebration, or make small talk about what he'd gotten, or even ask for the day off. but Izuku never did and all might felt too awkward to ask when it was (he didnt want to seem too eager to shower young Izuku with presents like something deep inside him begged for with a vengeance, even though he very much wanted to give Izuku literally anything he asked for. it is a troubling feeling), so all might just assumed his birthday hadn't come up yet.

then all might finally gets a look at Izuku's file, since all might is now a teacher, and sees 07/15/XXXX written and probably breaks the speed of sound with how quickly he calls izuku

"why didnt you tell me about your birthday!!" "wh- I mean- it's just not that big of a deal, I didnt think it was-" "NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL???"

he takes Izuku out to a very belated and nice birthday dinner and has to force an incredibly rare piece of decommissioned all might merch from his early days into Izuku's hands. despite his embarrassment and initial reluctance, that day is ranked in the top ten of his favorite days.

izuku doesnt learn his lesson, however, and neglects to tell his newly acquired friends about his date of birth. the only reason they find out is because all might, having been passing them by at the end of the school day, wished him a happy birthday.

"IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY????" "uraraka please its not a big deal-" "I have to disagree midoriya, today should be special!" "I mean, I dont think birthdays are all that important either" "THANK YOU todoroki"

(and then Izuku thinks for 2 seconds WHY Todoroki thinks birthdays are unimportant and gets sad again but we're not focusing on that rn)

ochako DEMANDS that they celebrate bc theres no way in hell she's allowing her best friend to go without a birthday celebration with friends, but Izuku insists that they at least wait until summer vacation starts in less than a week, especially since he cant just come home with three friends without telling his mom

ochakos like >:( for a second, but concedes bc that's fair and then she launches herself at Izuku and gives him a big ole hug and says "happy birthday!!!" izuku's all sputtering and blushing, and then he feels a hand on either arm and Iida and Todoroki give him warm smiles and wish the same and it takes a good five minutes for his face to calm down and for him to come out from behind his arms once Ochako releases him.

so he tells his mom that his friends want to come over to celebrate soon and inko is just like 😭😭😭😭😭 because FINALLY her boy has GOOD FRIENDS who want to CELEBRATE HIM and Izuku freaks out cuz his mom is crying but she waves him off and tells him to tell the dekusquad that they can come over on saturday and that they can spend the night and that they'll have a wonderful time!!!

izuku relays two-thirds of that information in their group chat and they all agree and then basically Izuku is dreading the weekend bc the few birthday parties he's had with his "friends" before hadn't been all that great (besides the sleepover part with katsuki, though their current animosity kinda makes the memories bittersweet), and like, while he knows objectively Ochako, iida, and Todoroki are Much Better than those boys from his childhood, he just doesnt have a good frame of reference for how these things go.

anyway, so Saturday comes around and Izuku is just listlessly lazing around while his mother finishes cooking ("let me help you mom-" "nuh uh, this is for YOUR celebration mister, you arent doing a THING today), and then theres an enthusiastic knock on his door, and when he goes and opens it his friends greet him with yet another cheer of "happy birthday deku/midoriya!!"

izuku smiles because its sweet even if he doesnt particularly care about birthdays, and invites them in. they set their presents on the table and Izuku's like "you didnt have to!!" and Ochako's like "NONSENSE" and Iida is like "how could we show up at your birthday celebration without presents???" and todoroki's like "any chance to spend endeavour's money on things he wouldnt like is a chance I will never not take" and Izuku is just like akdjajdhajsb when his mom finally comes and greets them

and like. it's nice. it's really really REALLY freaking nice. Izuku didnt realize how much he was actually missing having people with him in his home besides his mom until they were there. there's a wonderful warmth filling his chest as they all eat his mother's homemade katsudon and talk about school and how excited they are for the upcoming summer trip. and when heroes come up, they ask him about different quirks and how they work and what he thinks of this hero and that hero and the only time he's interrupted from his tangents is when he stops himself because he's embarrassed for talking for so long. and then they smile and prompt him some more, saying they love hearing him talk about the stuff that interests him, and can anyone really blame him for bursting into tears?

his friends are alarmed but his mom just smiles, tearing up herself, and she asks if he'd like a big hug, and he nods, face burning bright, and then they all gather him in a warm, enveloping embrace, and he wonders how in the hell he survived without this for so long?

he's so warm and loved and for the first time in forever he feels happy during his birthday celebration.

his 16th birthday party is so incredibly different from the parties he held before he was diagnosed and from the birthdays he spent with only his mother. he'd forgotten that feeling of being cared for by people who didnt need to, or rather he'd never really known it. there's a slight twinge that it took so long for him to learn this feeling, but it's completely overshadowed by the pure elation he feels at finally being able to breathe and relax and let himself be loved.

his friends still look concerned and they obviously have questions, but they dont pry as they all continue with the party. he opens their presents and cries again and then they watch a ton of hero movies and he cries a little more. iida worries he'll dehydrate himself and Ochako fuckin loses it and Todoroki has such a soft look on his face and GOD how has Izuku lived without friends? without THEM?

it's late when they turn in, with futons and mountains of pillows and blankets surrounding them on the living room floor. izuku is nestled between Ochako and Todoroki, and he stares at the ceiling as his friends doze around him. he can feel his heart beating in his chest and, with amusement, he feels his eyes watering again, but he blinks the tears away and whispers thickly, "hey guys?" once he gets sleepy questioning murmurs, he breathes in deeply and says, "thank you." in response Ochako and Todoroki schooch closer until they're cuddled on either arm and Izuku can see Iida doing the same on the other end of ochako. then Ochako mumbles, "anything for you, deku" to which the other two boys agree. and Izuku tries to not get choked up and fails again, but its okay, because its safe here and his friends are surrounding him with warmth and love and Izuku falls asleep happy.

(their second year they have another party, of course, but this one is bigger, with the whole class. it's in the dorm, which is fine bc he doesnt think his mom's apartment could hold all of them. it's just as wonderful as his 16th birthday. he managed to hold his tears back during nearly the entire thing, and the only reason he broke was because katsuki came up to him with a perfectly wrapped box, because everything katsuki does is perfect, and shoved it into his hands with a growled well wishes. katsuki yells at him and the class laughs good heartedly as he weeps, but Izuku is just focused on katsuki, who looks soft and relaxed and nearly identical to the version of him that Izuku saw so, so long ago. and as Izuku thanks him for the present and katsuki berates him cuz "you dont even know what it is yet you idiot open it already", izuku feels a new happiness bubbling up in him, because he's so incredibly glad katsuki has been able to heal as well)

[worldofmuses]

⚙️ a time my muse talked about something they made, drew, built. siriusxverity

Verity wrapped the sheet tight around her body, holding it up with one hand as she made her way through the bathroom, hopping over hastily discarded clothes and shoes. Closing the door to the bathroom she heard Sirius shout a question at her and she opened the door again, looking out into the bedroom.

“Did you seriously wait until I was in another room to ask me a question?”

Sirius laughed and shook his head, “No. I just thought of it now.”

“Well wait.” Sirius gave a mock salute and Verity rolled her eyes, closing the door again. But then she hesitated, standing in the middle of the bathroom, biting on the inside of her cheeks. She opened the door again. “Can you make some noise?”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to listen to me pee. Can you like play music or make some noise or something?” This admittance and question were proof that Verity was still a bit tipsy from their earlier drinks. Sirius laughed again and Verity huffed. “Please?”

“You just gave me a blowjob.”

“I remember.”

“But you’re worried about me hearing you pee?”

“Yes.”

Sirius just laughed again, reaching for his phone to put some music on. A few minutes later Verity came back out of the bathroom, freshened up a little, and moved back to sit on the bed, her legs tucked up beside her.

“Okay what was your question?” she asked, holding the sheet up at her chest.

“Do you really paint and draw and stuff?”

“Yes,” she replied with a light laugh. “Why would I make that up?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think you did. It’s just surprising.”

“Why?”

“I never had you pegged as the artsy type.”

“You never got to know me very well.”

“No, I guess not.” A small but not uncomfortable silence spread out for a few minutes before Sirius spoke again.

“Can I see?”

“I already told you no.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s private.”

“Once again, you just gave me a blowjob.”

Verity laughed, rolling her eyes as she looked at him. “Well that’s another one of my talents.”

“And you can’t share the other.”

“Merlin, you’re persistent,” she groaned, getting back off the bed to search for her phone. Once she found it she walked back over to the bed, unlocking it and scrolling as she searched through her photos. “I’ll show you one,” she said, sitting back down.

“Deal,” Sirius grinned, his hand out for the phone. She hesitated for a moment before passing it over, the photo was of a painting she had finished a few weeks ago, watching carefully to make sure he didn’t scroll or anything. “Shit this is good.”

“Thanks,” Verity muttered, attempting to ignore the faint pink blush colouring her cheeks.

“I mean it, this is really good.” She didn’t reply this time, holding out her hand for her phone, which he obligingly handed back with a laugh. “Draw me.”

This time Verity laughed, giving him a look. “No thanks.”

“Oh come on, just a quick drawing.”

“No.”

“A sketch?”

“Sirius.”

“Please?” he asked, a smirk on his face as he looked over at her. To be fair, he wasn’t exactly a bad subject to draw. He was leaning back against his headboard, his hair messy and half tied back, the other half framing his face. He was naked save for a blanket covering his modesty, looking at her with a boyish grin from under dark eyelashes. She groaned loudly, giving in. She glanced around, grabbing a pen and his notebook from work off the night stand.

“A very very quick one. And sit still.” He nodded. “I literally just said sit still.” He laughed and apologised, as Verity tucked the sheet into a hold around her so she had both hands free. She spent about five minutes looking between him and the page, just doing a quick and easy sketch as he sat in front of her. “Here.”

Sirius grinned as he took the notebook, looking down at it. “It really looks like me.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. But doing that that quickly is impressive.”

“I’m very impressive.”

“I’m learning that.”

“Can I have it back now?”

“What? No. It’s mine.”

Verity laughed in response, shaking her head. “I drew it, it’s mine.”

“But it’s of me.”

“I don’t care,” she laughed, reaching for the book. But Sirius just held it out of her reach, prompting her to move onto her knees to try and reach it. He moved further away, pushing her away with his other hand. “Sirius!”

“Go away, I want to keep it.”

“Why?” she asked, pushing his hand away as she reached for it again, practically on top of him now.

“Because I look very good in it.”

“I can take a picture of you instead,” she suggested, laughter in her words as he threw the notebook away, out of both of their reach. “Sirius!”

Now practically straddling him, she looked at him with disapproval, attempting to hide her amusement. He did no such thing, grinning back at her. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very annoying?”

“Constantly,” Verity answered.

“I can see why.”

“Shut up.”

But they had continued to get closer as they spoke, Verity now sitting in Sirius’ lap as his hands moved to her waist. Amusement in every word as the struggled not to laugh, arguing over the notebook, previously carefully balanced covers dislodging and exposing. She met his eyes after hers flicked down to his lips, biting on her own as her fingers traced along his stomach.

“Okay,” he nodded, leaning forward to kiss her instead.

It was quite a while later that Verity once again moved from the bed with the sheet wrapped around her, searching for her dress. “You could stay over,” Sirius suggested. Verity laughed.

“Why, do you want a cuddle?” she teased, bending down to pick up her dress.

“Cuddles are nice.”

“No thank you.”

“Some finacée you are.”

Verity rolled her eyes, looking back at her after wiggling into the dress. “You know when people say you shouldn’t sleep with someone before marriage? That’s what they actually mean.”

“It’s not about sex.”

“Nope. It means no sleepovers.”

Sirius laughed, looking at her as she sat on the end of the bed to put her shoes back on. “I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s okay, I can make it to the front door safely,” she denied, running a hand through her hair as she took out her phone, making sure she looked presentable.

“Okay. I had fun tonight.” But Verity was already on the phone, sending him a wave as she walked out of his bedroom.

“Hey, Chris. Sorry, I know it’s late but Jo’s met some guy and I don’t want to third wheel. Can I come over?”

[lonelyandlovelorn]

Distance

A/N: Here’s this... As with literally everything I write, I need happy endings for all, so don’t worry too much. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Genre: established relationship, angst, fluff

Warning: maybe a little swearing?

Word count: 2000

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem reader

Summary: You had been dating Steve Rogers for a long time, but he suddenly became distant and you worried that the end was coming for your relationship. 

Masterlist

Steve Rogers is the love of your life, you’ve decided. He’s good to you, loving and sweet at all times, funny, and his attractiveness doesn’t hurt anything either. You were wary in the beginning that it was only a honeymoon phase. You were sure there was no way you were lucky enough to get the perfect guy. While you waited for the other shoe to drop, nearly two years passed before you realized that Steve really was just perfect for you. This isn’t to say you’ve never argued or had any rocky moments, but they were never detrimental to your relationship. You were in absolutely blissfully in love and could not imagine being happier. 

So why now did you suddenly feel a distance between you and your boyfriend? You couldn’t think of anything to trigger it; if anything, the day before you noticed it, you had had an exceptionally good date. So why was Steve pushing you away out of the blue? 

You hadn’t seen him much yesterday, but you knew he was a busy man, so you didn’t think anything of it. Last night was when you first noticed the change. When he came back to your shared room, you were already laying in bed. You had missed him, so when he climbed under the covers, you scooted closer to him. You hooked a leg over his waist and leaned against his arm. Normally, he wrapped you up and held you close to him when you did this, but this time he just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. You figured maybe he was just tired and brushed it off. 

But then you tried to speak to him this morning, sending flirtatious jokes and chit chat his way, only to get minimal responses, barely grunts or one word answers. You chalked it up to him being distracted, but he had never ignored you like this before, and it would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. Steve left soon after you stopped trying to make conversation, parting with a quick goodbye, forgoing your usual peck on the cheek. You sat at your table, trying to stop your heart from breaking. Was this the end? What if he broke up with you and kicked you out? You had sold your apartment a long time ago and had nowhere else. You were sure Tony would let you stay in the tower, but that would be way too uncomfortable if you had to see your ex every day. 

You let out a forlorn sigh before making your way out of the room. Not knowing what else to do you sought out Tony to talk. You weren’t smart like him or Bruce, but Tony seemed to like you immediately upon meeting you. At first, you thought it had something to do with Steve, but Tony later told you that he really liked that you were willing to match his humor, but you were also a lot nicer than he was. You were a refreshing break from angry and sad superheroes. 

Too bad you were about to visit him to be a sad regular person, but he was your closest friend in the tower and you just really needed someone to talk to. 

When you walked into the lab, Tony was sitting at a table tinkering with a part from his suit. You weren’t sure what it was, just that it seemed to thankfully not be something too important or attention-consuming. He looked up at you as you sat across from him with a smile that immediately fell when he saw your expression. You weren’t sure what face you were making, but you didn’t feel that far off from crying, so you weren’t shocked by his concerned look. You let out a sigh before beginning to talk about what you came for.

“Is Steve going to break up with me?” You figured Tony would be honest with you and you would rather rip it off like a bandaid if you could.

“What?! You’re joking right? I’ve never seen Cap happier than when he’s with you, why would you think that?” Tony genuinely seemed shocked that you could even think that. You took some comfort in that, but it really felt like the only explanation. 

“Last night and this morning he was really distant. I don’t know how to explain it, he was just off and barely paid me any attention. I don’t know what I could have done wrong to make him like this, but it’s starting to feel like the beginning of the end, you know?” Your voice had wobbled in the beginning, but the tears finally made it out and fell down your face. You struggled to look at Tony while you spoke, ashamed he had to see you like this. “I’ve been through breakups before, Tony, and they always begin with distance. There’s no communication, no fighting, just space and silence before it’s all over, and I don’t think I can take that from him.” A sob made its way out as the gravity of what you might be facing finally hit you like a ton of bricks. 

Tony, though not normally a touchy person, couldn’t just sit and watch you cry, so he walked around the table and wrapped his arms around you. You cried into his chest, grateful for the comfort. 

“Y/N, you’ve been dating Steve for almost two years, you know that man is a bit of an idiot.” You pulled back ready to argue with him bashing your man, but he quickly shushed you before continuing. “What I mean is that he probably doesn’t even realize he’s hurting you, and he’s probably just got something on his mind from a mission or something. Steve really does love you, everyone who looks at you two for five minutes can see it. You’ll be okay.” He made sure to look you in the eyes before saying that. 

--

Tony’s kind words kept you from breaking, but you still didn’t feel any less like you were losing Steve. He left on a mission that evening, telling you he would be back in a few days. You wrapped your arms around his waist, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head like normal, but when you looked up at him, he wasn’t looking at you. He still seemed distracted and far away, saying goodbye and leaving. You didn’t know what to do. 

The next two days were spent trying to distract yourself. You cleaned the apartment, prepped meals, went through Steve’s calendar to make sure you both were aware of all of the team events coming up. You couldn’t help the pang in your chest at the thought that you might not get to attend those anymore. It’s not like you were actually a part of the team, even if they had become like family over the past two years. 

The second day alone in your apartment, Wanda knocked on your door in concern. “Are you feeling okay? You seem down and no one saw you yesterday?” It was sweet that they worried about you.

“I’m fine, just miss Steve,” you replied with a half-hearted smile. She nodded in understanding, giving you a hug before leaving you be. 

You tried to pass the day reading, organizing, anything to make time go faster. Nothing seemed to work.

It was 11 pm and you were sitting in a deserted hallway, staring out at the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a place you and Steve had found to sneak away when your room was too stuffy and you just needed to escape. That was where Steve found you, in your pajamas with your knees tucked to your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that he was still wearing his suit, though he didn’t seem to be scraped up at all. You were glad he was home safe and you had missed him dearly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

He walked closer to you and sat down next to you, giving you a moment of quiet before he started speaking. “You know, I got home from a recon mission that went really well. I was excited to be home so I could crawl into bed with my favorite girl, but she was missing.” He didn’t ask anything outright, or really even prompt for any sort of response. You knew, though, that he was asking why.

Without preamble, you asked, “Are you going to leave me?” Your voice was quiet and you still didn’t turn to look at him, but you heard his sharp intake of air.

“Doll, why on earth would you think that? I love you.” He sounded so sincere, but you couldn’t get the thoughts out of your head. 

“You’ve been so distant, Steve. I don’t know what else to think.” You shrugged helplessly. 

Steve moved closer to you, kneeling in front of you on the ground. You continued to stare past him until he gently grasped your chin and turned you to face him. “I am sorry for being distant, but I swear it’s been for a good reason. I really do love you with all my heart. Do you still love me?”

You couldn’t believe he even had to ask. “Of course I do, why do you think it hurt so much? You’re the love of my life Steve, I don’t know what I would do without you.” Your lip began to tremble and you felt your eyes sting. The concern on his face turned to anguish as he watched the hurt on your face. He rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip to still it, and you managed to keep the tears at bay as you looked over his features and saw nothing but the raw love and concern he had for you. 

With a light sniffle, you spoke once more. “You said you had a good reason?” His face lit up into what looked like excitement, but you were confused as to why he would look so thrilled. Suddenly, he stood up, grabbing your hands and pulling you with him. Your confusion doubled as you looked at him, only to see nervousness paint his features. 

“This isn’t really how I wanted to do this, but I can’t think of a better place than our spot.” If you were confused before, now you were completely lost. Before you could ask any questions, Steve slowly started to sink back to the ground on one knee and began to reach into a pocket on his belt. “Y/N, I’ve loved you since I met you. I love your heart and your smile and your laugh. I love the way your hand fits in mine and your body next to me. I love every moment I’ve spent with you, and I want to spend a million more.” Having realized what was happening fairly quickly, the tears from before began anew, spilling down your cheeks as you watched him, your hands over your mouth. Slowly, he raised his hand to show you a ring. You barely glanced at it before looking into his eyes once more. “Y/N, would you do me the great honor of taking me as your husband?” 

You were rendered completely speechless, all you were capable of was nodding over and over. A sob fell out of your mouth as you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and crying happy tears into his shoulder. He held you tight and kissed your temple, and you could hear him laughing in relief and joy. 

After a few minutes like that, you finally pulled away, wiping at your eyes. He gently grabbed your left hand, slipping the ring on. “A good enough reason?” You gave a watery laugh and nodded at him. He kissed you sweetly, and you realized you couldn’t remember being happier in your life. 

The next day, you thought Tony was going to cry at seeing the ring on your finger and the smile on your face, but instead he just clapped Steve on the back and hugged you in congratulations before warning Steve that if he ever did anything so stupid again, he would regret it.