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shmowlwrites · 5 years ago

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Like That

This is very anti Miraculous Characters. Their personalities have been pushed for the purpose of this fic. Don’t like - don’t read.

Songfic to “Like That” by Bea Miller

Chat Noir was… taking a passive-aggressive approach tonight. Playing the martyr, as if it would make Ladybug reconsider her feelings about him.

Can see it from the way you looking at me

You don't think I'm worth your time

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at Chat Noir. “Are you listening to yourself?”

Oh boy, was she reconsidering her feelings about him.

Reconsidering how willing she was to work with him.

Don't care about the person that I might be

Offended that I walk the line

“Of course, M’lady,” the cat leaned against his staff, a scoff at the back of his throat. “Why are you so irritated tonight? Surely seeing your soulmate would lighten your mood.”

“Chat Noir…” Ladybug sighed. “The only thing that will lighten my mood tonight is finishing this patrol and going to bed.”

Chat Noir growled once her back was to him. How dare she snub him!

-----

So what if I'm not

So what if I'm not everything you wanted me to be?

Marinette groaned. Alya had shoved her into a moment unprepared. It… didn’t end well, with Adrien deciding to take the moment to reaffirm that she wasn’t doing anything. “We’ve got to keep the peace!”

She shuffled her feet as she followed a few paces behind Adrien, Alya’s words falling on deaf ears. She was almost convinced Alya was only still shoving her at Adrien so that she can watch the embarrassment that ensues.

Was that all she was to Alya? Entertainment?

Was that all she was to Adrien? A hindrance to his definition of peace?

------

So what if I am

So what if I am more than you can see?

Ladybug swung her feet, sitting atop the Arc de Triomphe. She had hidden from Chat Noir while he was doing another soulmate spiel and about how he knows she’s in denial. He was no doubt on the other side of the city right now, hunting for her.

She was more than his soulmate.

She was more than a girl in denial of her destiny.

She was more than the girl with a crush on Adrien.

She was more than entertainment.

Ladybug fell back, glaring at the sky.

When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that

It's pushin' me harder, it's pushin' me harder

She startled at the sound of someone landing. Oh, God, no-

Chat Noir looked pissed. “Why did you leave like that?!”

“I don’t have to patrol with you!” Ladybug groaned. “And I was done listening to you talk about my feelings as if they are yours!”

“Oh my- Are you really pouting about your destiny?” Chat Noir rolled his eyes. “No! Oh, no, no, no,” Ladybug scrambled to her feet, her eyes a thunderous grey. “You don’t get to complain about me ‘pouting’,” she made aggressive air quotes, “when every time we’ve had a disagreement, you pout and act cold during an Akuma attack, putting pressure on me.”

“I don’t pout,” Chat Noir hissed. “And those times were because of your cold shoulder first.”

“When you treat me like that?!” Ladybug waved her arms, gesturing to right now. “It’s pushing me harder!”

When you breakin' my back, when you breakin' my back

I only get stronger, I only get stronger

Chat Noir scoffed. “Treating you how? I’ve only ever been trying to open your eyes!” “Have you considered that I don’t to ‘open my eyes?’” Ladybug groaned, making the air quotes. She turned her back to him. “I don’t want a relationship! I don’t want to date you! And I especially don’t want to after all the pushing you’ve been doing.” She whipped around. “I shouldn’t be breaking my back and apologizing when I’m not the one at fault. I shouldn’t be apologizing for my feelings.”

Chat Noir growled, about to speak.

“Goodnight, Chat Noir,” Ladybug ground out, jumping off the monument and swinging home.

--------

I should've walked away one year ago

When you said I wouldn't make it out alive

Marinette ducked her head and walked into the classroom, hiding her face in her books.

Was this peace? She wondered as a crumpled ball of paper hit her square in the back of the head and giggles followed.

Was this peace? She wondered as she swept the food crumbs off her seat.

Was this peace? She wondered as Lila regaled another tale, this time talking her superior designing abilities saving a gala.

Marinette wondered if she should have transferred out. She wondered if she should have gone to Damocles when she threatened her.

She wondered if she was ever supposed to make it out alive.

When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that

I only get stronger, I only get stronger

When you treat me like that

Marinette opened a notebook and began writing down the tale. Another crumpled ball of paper - or was it the same one? - hit her notebook, but she only swept it aside and continued writing. Another ball of paper hit her notebook, this time with “OPEN” written in sharpie on it.

She swept it aside. She heard someone growl in frustration. Oh well. She was book-keeping Lila’s tales. There are already three tales that overlap when they shouldn’t.

-----------

As far as I can tell, it's kinda crazy

That you even care at all

Alya was beside her again as they made their way down to the cafeteria. She was talking about last night when the heroes exploded at each other.

Was Marinette a bad friend for wondering why Alya was still around?

“-and then Ladybug left. Can you believe she said those rude things to him? If she was really his friend, she’d consider his feelings.”

Was Marinette crazy for wondering if Alya actually cared? Was Marinette a bad friend for wanting to punch her friend?

She only hummed and departed from Alya to get her tray.

------

Convincing everybody you can save me

But you're the one who made me fall

Ladybug’s eyes fluttered as she faced to Akuma, standing atop a tall building. Chat Noir wasn’t there, typical. He never showed when they have arguments. He talked big for someone who pouted a lot.

Ladybug almost had the akumatized item without needing Lucky Charm when a baton hit her, knocking her away from the Akuma and off of the building. She scrambled for her yo-yo when suddenly someone grabbed her landed her on a rooftop.

“See, M’Lady? You need me,” Chat Noir’s eyes told her that he really did just do what she thought he did.

“CHAT NOIR!” She screeched. “I almost had it! I didn’t need you! Stay away if the only thing you’re gonna do is to knock me off buildings to convince people that you can save me when you’re the one who makes me fall!”

---------

So what if I'm not

So what if I'm not everything you wanted me to be?

Marinette had gone home that night and began tearing her fabric out. She was tired of everything. She was full of spite, anger, and vengeance.

So what if she’s not what they want her to be? Screw Chat Noir and his obsession.

Screw Alya and their spineless friendship, she thought as she plucked anything of Alya off her walls and schedule.

Screw Adrien and his passiveness, she thought as she tore down things of him.

And most of all, screw Lila, she thought as she turned her attention to the notebook.

----------

So what if I am

So what if I am more than you can see?

Ladybug was on her own, and for once she was happy about it. She felt like herself running on rooftops by herself. She ignored the noise her yo-yo made, knowing that it was Chat Noir wondering where she was.

She made it to the Eiffel Tower and noticed a dark figure sitting on the edge of a beam. Curious, she quietly crawled over to it.

When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that

It's pushin' me harder, it's pushin' me harder

Please don’t be an Akuma, she chanted in her head.

What else could it be? Her mind asked.

“Hello,” she called, hand on her yo-yo, just to be safe.

The figure turned, making the cape move so she could see the colors. Red tunic, green boots and gloves, yellow accents. Was this dude a traffic light? His mask set her off. It looked like Stormy Weather’s mask.

Was he an Akuma?

“Who’re you?” He called.

Not… an Akuma?

“Ladybug. I’m the protector of Paris. Who are you?” She couldn’t help the clipped tone.

“Robin. Batman had business here and I came along.” Oh. Robin. Not an Akuma.

Ladybug dropped down.

When you breakin' my back, when you breakin' my back

I only get stronger, I only get stronger

The two got along well enough. Robin just seemed to have an affinity for violence, as seen when he went to town on petty crime. Ladybug had to pull him back, tie up the criminals, and force Robin to get back to the rooftops.

“Just knock them out and leave them there, you don’t need to hurt them,” Ladybug blinked. Was Gotham so dangerous that doing that to petty criminals was normal?

“It’s normal in Gotham for all criminals to be able to kill you,” Robin sighed.

Ah.

A baton slammed into Robin. “I’m here, Ladybug!”

“Chat Noir!” Ladybug scolded, jumping off the roof to find Robin.

“What, I’m doing my job, am I not?” Chat Noir scoffed.

Ladybug turned on her heel. “He’s not an Akuma!” “Yeah, I figured,” Chat Noir shrugged. “But I’ve got to protect my soulmate, right?”

Ladybug glared, wishing she had the power to revoke him of Miraculous. “This. This is why I’ll never love you.”

I should've walked away one year ago

When you said I wouldn't make it out alive

Chat Noir blinked. Shocked. It gave Robin time to stand up and walk nearer.

Chat Noir blinked. Anger. “How many times do I have to tell you?” He growled, extending his baton to smack Robin back, who jumped out of the way in time. “You don’t have a choice!”

“I very much do!” Ladybug cried, jumping to the roof as Robin jumped to one across the street.

“You wouldn’t have survived without me!” Chat Noir called. “I’m the only reason you haven’t died yet! Your earrings claimed!”

“No! I’ve survived well enough while you’ve been killed, put under influences, and almost had your Miraculous taken! You lost your Miraculous, even! Plagg was a better partner than you ever have been!”

Ladybug jumped roofs, picked Robin up, jumped a roof before falling into a park and hiding in a tree. Chat Noir continued in his rampage.

“How are you still alive?” Robin gasped.

When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that

I only get stronger, I only get stronger

When you treat me like that

“I don’t know,” Ladybug sighed before falling out of the tree.

“How often does he do that?” Robin asked, dropping beside her.

“Whenever he sees me,” Ladybug bit her cheek.

“Can’t you… make him retire?” Robin asked.

“I can’t take his Miraculous unless either Plagg recognizes me as a Guardian or the current Guardian recognizes me as one. The current one still wants to see if Chat Noir will stop throwing his hissy fit,” Ladybug sighed, walking to a bench.

“... Well, Chat Noir seems to be acting like a child. Your current Guardian doesn’t seem to have good judgment.”

Ladybug was tempted to laugh, but she held onto it. She didn’t want to speak against him. But… he had a point. “They could have chosen a better Black Cat,” Ladybug nodded.

Robin made her feel better. Robin made her feel like she wasn’t doing the wrong thing. He assured her she was doing what was needed. She let him watch her make her way home. She knew he wasn’t there long. She knew he wouldn’t do anything with her identity.

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

Why you wanna see me bleed?

Why you wanna watch me fall apart?

Marinette blinked. There was shredded paper on her desk, all uneven as if they were haphazardly cut with scissors. Why did they do that? Normally it was something that could her clothes if she sat on it.

She only noticed what was wrong when she saw the backing of a book. Open. With no sheets.

Her name written on the inside.

No no no no no no-

Try to find the worst in me

But I won't follow you into the dark

Marinette felt like crying.

Marinette felt like screaming.

Marinette felt like punching Lila.

The class walked in and noticed Marinette standing at her desk and the mess of white all over it.

“Marinette!” Alya cried. “Wasn’t that your sketchbook?”

When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that

It's pushin' me harder, it's pushin' me harder

… Marinette turned her eyes to class. They were below her. How did they know it was her sketchbook that was cut up?

“Yes,” she venomously spoke.

Lila only smirked from the front.

When you breakin' my back, when you breakin' my back

I only get stronger, I only get stronger

“I guess my designs didn’t appeal to someone and they felt the need to destroy them,” Marinette coldly continued. She turned to the mess and began sweeping the shredded paper together and placing them on the cover.

She carried the cover down the stairs, purposefully slamming her shoulders into her classmates as she made her way to the trash can.

She faced them as she slammed it in, noticing how they all flinched.

Good.

I should've walked away one year ago

Marinette tore her fabric out again, tearing down a design for her to use.

She sewed into the night.

Her mind raged war.

Thank God it was the weekend. She needed it to plot out what she was doing.

Thank God Robin stopped by, as a civilian. He had perfect ideas for revenge dressing.

She was going to make it out alive.

Robin was definitely helpful in getting her set as Ladybug, in talking with the Guardian.

She was going to make it out alive.

When you said I wouldn't make it out alive

Marinette, dressed in for revenge, stalked through the school, for once there as soon as the doors were open. Damien was beside her, dressed for stealth. Both had a stack of packets.

Marinette was going to make it out alive.

When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that

Marinette laid the papers out in front of each seat. Each one detailed all of the tales told and how they never appeared anywhere.

She scanned the papers with thunderous grey eyes.

Lila wasn’t going to make it out alive.

I only get stronger, I only get stronger

Marinette and Damien finished their work and walked around the block. They had to have an alibi, after all.

Marinette didn’t protest spending time with the boy.

He was certainly better company than her other friends.

He was certainly a better crush than Adrien.

The two made their way back to the school, Damien leaving her with a teasing kiss to the back of the hand.

Marinette entered her classroom with the last bell. All was quiet, for a moment. Everyone watched Marinette ascend to the back of the room.

She didn’t spare them any glances.

The yelling began as she swept food crumbs out of her seat.

Lila couldn’t save herself.

When you treat me like that

Ladybug faced Chat Noir, eyes cold. He was complaining about her civilian form. He knew her out of the suit.

Ladybug was certain she knew who he was.

“Chat Noir,” Ladybug snapped.

“What?” Chat Noir rolled his head over his shoulder to look at her. “Don’t tell me you’re on her side!”

“Chat Noir,” Ladybug sighed. “You’re so childish. It’s a surprise I’m the one that has to do this.”

“What?” Cha Noir furrowed his brow.

“I, Ladybug, revoke you of your Miraculous.”

A flash of green light, Plagg and his ring in her hand, and Adrien.

She was out of there before he could react.

#anti-adrien agreste #anti-alya #anti-lila #anti-miraclass #anti-chat noir #take this asstruc #suggested daminette

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mxtcha-tea · 4 years ago

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[g ｕｉｄｅｌｉｎｅｓ　運ダゴ]

✕ PLEASE READ ALL OF THE RULES BEFORE REQUESTING OR SO ON. THIS IS TO AVOID PROBLEMS AND TO RUN THE BLOG SMOOTHLY. thank you :) ✕

—i don't really accept requests for this blog but when the request box is open, you're free to order whatever you want

✎but if my mind can't process more than a few scenarios for the request, it will be short.

✎i've decided to make this blog mostly self indulgent because i don't work well under stress, hope you understand :).

✎HOWEVER, as much as i would love to hear your requests, there's a limit on how many you can request so first come first serve.

—if you want to request something, make it ~unique~

✎i've seen a lot of writings that had already been writen over and over again, and i thought, "why not try something new?"

✎don't worry, i still take the normal requests but as i said just now, it'll be short.

—DO NOT STEAL/PLAGIARIZE MY WORKS

✎please just don't, you'll prolly get no benefit from it.

✎this includes either plagiarize, translate or repost in other platforms.

—as i said in my old blog, DO NOT SPAM REQUESTS

✎i'll put a list of what i have to write on the nav (requested and not).

✎if some of it are requested, i'll write who requested it (whether it's off or on anon).

—please specify the request

✎includes things such as gender, format, or others

—what do i write?

✎crack (obviously my favourite)

✎fluff

✎angst

✎horrors/dark fic (but without the other dark stuffs, will list down below)

✎hurt/comfort

✎anything that's bearable to me

—what do i don't write?

✎r*cist/p*do/inc*st/sexist contents

✎shaming in every way possible (race, religion, skin, body figure, disability, etc)

✎NSFW (only a few suggestive contents but other than just that is a no-no)

✎duncons/noncons/yandere themed

✎alpha/omega/beta things (it always been used in smuts right? even tho i don't specifically write smut, you prolly can use it for non-sexual subjects but i still don't understand it fully)

✎characters x characters (only on ao3) (watch me feel soft because of bokuaka aye—)

✎anything that i'm not comfortable writing

—who/what do i write for?

haikyuu

✎everyone lolol

jujutsu kaisen

✎itadori, sukuna, megumi, nobara, inumaki, gojo, nanamin, junpei, will add more...(i'm late to caught to the anime :'D, maybe i'll continue by the manga)

danganronpa (dr1 only) (yes, haven't finished dr2 and i can't find dr3 :'))

✎everyone except monokuma (if you like monokuma then please go see a therapist)

More to be added soon!

[r ｅｑｕｅｓｔｉｎｇ　日奥ト]

—headcanons

✎honestly no limit but if i get so self indulgent in it, i might make it into 2 separate posts or something. (limit : no limit)

—imagines

✎it can be scenarios about a few characters, teams or literally anyone. (limit : 5)

—drabbles

✎kinda short. prolly will only be the title, pairing and the drabble itself. (limit : 1 only)

—timestamps

✎the time and short story. that's all. (limit : 1 only, i think)

—songfic

✎won't post this type often. the title of the song as the title of the fic, some info about the fic and then the writings. (limit : 1 only)

—fic

✎the same kind like the song fic BUT without songs as titles and gonna add some panels *wink* *wonk*. (limit : 1 only)

—SMAU/Texts

✎title, pairings, maybe some warnings, and boom, dumb and unfunny texts B). (no limits)

[ f ｏｒｍａｔｓ　旺引や]

—not a lot for this one but no, i don't take request

✎i only take requests for small fun activity (like doodling someone as a cat hehe)

—DON'T STEAL/REPOST/TRACE MY ART

✎please don't repost it and claim it as your own, this includes posting it in other platforms even tho you credited it.

✎dm me first if you want to use it for personal use, whether you just wanna save it or use it for any occasions (includes SMAU or others and put credits)

✎don't crop out the watermark. if you're even thinking about doing it, no <3

[ d ｒａｗｉｎｇｓ　鋭ィニ]

—if you want to know me, then feel free to ask questions or ask on how i'm doing

✎i swear that i'm a friendly person, and just forget on how i act on the old blog :')

—don't talk about anything hurtful or bad

✎this includes talking r*cist, talk about p*do, talk about inc*st, or just anything that's very offending in general. i wanted to make this blog a peaceful and safe place.

✎also, read my dni and byf before interacting/following

—hate anons or hate asks or BOTH will be deleted

✎as i said just now, will make this place peaceful and won't have serious drama.

✎"but what if they attack you through dm's?"

✎well, they have to deal with the block button of course.

[ i ｎｂｏｘ　因岡ゴ]

#mxtcha-tea mains

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fanfictionamerica · 6 years ago

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A Love That Defies (Tony Stark x GN!Reader)

Title: A Love That Defies

Author: @fanfictionamerica (writing blog of @daneel-the-sister-of-castiel )

Pairing: Tony Stark/Iron Man x Reader (Modern!Guardian Angel AU)

Warnings: Mild language and violence, mention of a panic attack, some angst

Word count: 5,434 (whoopsie, ended up being my longest fic yet)

Tagline: A Guardian Angel’s job is never easy. But when your human charge is Tony Stark and messy feelings come into the mix, the job gets...problematic.

A/N: This is for the sweet @flatbottomholland 's Marvel Writing Challenge (apologies for taking so long). My song was Never Be The Same by Camila Cabello. While this is not a songfic, the fanfic was heavily influenced by it. This fic takes place in the MCU but where angels and demons exist. It is after The Avengers but before Iron Man 3. I should also let you know that this is my first time writing a gender-neutral reader and writing a Tony Stark fanfic, so I hope I did alright! I will be adding at least one other part to this story as well, so no worries.

Tony was finally ready. He'd gotten all the ingredients and done almost all the rituals to summon as the weird, old tablet called it a "being of mighty, awesome power" with "wings of light." Bruce warned him it wouldn't go well, but Tony's curiosity needed satisfaction now. He took a deep breath in, then spoke the final words, “Oh guardian of spirits, warrior of the heavens, I call upon you to show yourself here on this earth. And please don't make me repeat those ridiculous words.” Tony knew he sounded like a complete idiot, but thankfully, no one else was in his house at present. He waited five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds. Nothing happened. Tony looked back at the inscription translated on his screen, searching for errors. All of a sudden, a resounding crash came through the ceiling to his workshop. The superhero jumped out of his skin, aiming his repulsors at whatever the hell just fell through his roof. A loud groan of pain pierced through the dust-filled room as Tony edged toward the crash site. “What in heaven's name just happened?” The dust finally cleared to reveal the source of the voice: a being Tony could only describe as... "An angel, seriously? I should've known.”

Your superiors told you choosing him as your first human was a bad idea. They said he grow up to be too dysfunctional and too egotistical for you to be of any help to him. Too broken, too imperfect. Not to mention the factor of his status as a "hero." The chief angels called you crazy. They thought something had gone wrong with you. "You’re making it harder on yourself," they said. The more flawed, the more "heroic" the human charge, the more difficult and more time-consuming a guardian angel's job became. You could care less. Everyone had flaws (including angels, despite what your superiors said), some more than others. That didn't justify not protecting them from evil or helping them in their times of need. Besides, the angels who told you such things were a bunch of stuck-up bums who couldn't see good if it hit them right in the face. That being said, you felt less than amused and more than a little pissed to find yourself sprawled out in the middle of Tony's workshop after surviving a hellish fall through Earth's atmosphere. Your body screamed in torment so your mouth could not resist letting out a guttural groan of pain. “What in heaven's name just happened?” you asked, sitting up while rubbing your aching muscles. You'd been sitting in heaven, minding your own business when you suddenly felt yourself falling through the atmosphere with no way to stop. Your powerful energy protected you from burning up as you fell, but in the process made you black out from the drain on your systems. You saw a figure inching closer to you. Your blurry vision had a hard time making them out. But as the figure drew closer, your mind went into panic mode when you recognized them as your first human, Tony freakin' Stark. He gaped at you then said in a disappointed tone, “An angel, really? I should've known.” You shot him an offended look, then snapped back, “So sorry to disappoint the great Tony Stark. I'll try harder next time I get involuntarily summoned to Earth.” And that was the start of your fascinating visit on Earth.

Two months after the summoning: “Can I see your wings again?” You glared at the persistent scientist. “No. You plucked a feather out of one the last time, and it hurt.” “Oh come on, don't be stingy. You grew it back.” He flashed a boyish smile your way, causing you to scowl even more. “If I hadn't been worried about hurting you, I would've smacked you in the head with that wing.” Tony put a hand to his heart in fake offense. “I give you food, I give you shelter, and this is the kind of treatment I get?” You sighed. “I'm grateful, but you're the reason I'm down here in the first place, Tony. Excuse me if I don't feel bad for wanting to smack you in the head just one time.” Tony furrowed his brows then walked over to you and put a hand on your head. “Do you have a fever or something? Because you're a bit grumpier than usual.” If it were any other person, you might've snapped. But you knew Tony. His words conveyed concern, despite the terrible phrasing he used. He wasn't wrong, either. You had been more on edge lately, for more reasons than one (but you wouldn't tell him that). You took a step back and turned your head away from Tony, avoiding his penetrating stare. “I am, I am running low on energy, that's all. Being away from home takes a toll on me,” you tried reassuring him, yet still not meeting his gaze. A rare moment of silence passed between you two before your charge replied, “Alright Clarence, don't get your halo in a twist. You should go get what we humans call some "food." It's SO good, and you're just not you when you're hungry.” Tony's sassy words caught you off guard, and you looked back over at him in shock. But before a retort could leave your mouth, Tony tossed a small object towards you. Your reflexes reacted in an instant and caught the object in your hand. Let's say you were less than shocked when you read the label: Snickers. “You couldn't resist, could you? You must think you're SO hilarious.” “Because I am.” The cocky billionaire's lips formed into that infamous smirk of his before he turned around and finally went back to tinkering with another suit. You breathed a sigh of relief as he did so, the built-up tension leaving your body. You see, the last few months with Tony had been eventful. You found out that he had discovered a long-lost Divine tablet, the primary purpose being to summon an "all-powerful being with wings of light." Of course, Tony with his insatiable curiosity, couldn't leave it alone and ended up summoning you, his guardian angel. You were furious. You couldn't protect your human charge like before. Following a superhero around with no invisibility would not work out for multiple reasons. You refused to talk with Tony out of anger for a few hours. Of course, that didn't last, though. He poked and prodded you for answers, and you eventually gave in, not having the will or patience to stay silent. You only told Tony what he needed, however. That you were his guardian angel and that you needed to get back to your home sooner rather than later. You didn't tell him the reason for the urgency. He didn't need to know that you ran the risk of being killed by a demon in your weakened state the longer you stayed or that you could be cast out of the heavens for associating with your charge. “I still wanna see those wings of yours again,” Tony interrupted your thoughts with the same request he had the first time around. “Tony, I already told you no,” you admonished the persistent scientist, crossing your arms in front of you. He said nothing in reply, just giving you a carefree smile as he started walking out of his workshop. A suspicious feeling crept over you at his lack of protest, so you quickly followed Tony up the stairs and into the living room. “What are you up to, Tony? You're not gonna bug me about not letting you see my wings again?” “No.” He didn't even turn around to look at you, still walking towards the back of his house. “Tony...” The mischievous genius pressed a few keys on a window, which opened it up to the porch outside. He stepped through it before showing you another less-than-innocent grin, then walked toward the edge of the porch. You followed after him, stepping out onto the porch. The moment you did so, though, Tony faced you, gave you a little wave, and took one giant step backward onto nothing but air. Your heart lurched in your throat as your legs immediately went into action, and your wings flashed into existence. You jumped off of the porch with hands reached out in front of you. The man was already on his way to crashing into the ocean below, so you brought your wings in more as you dove and increased your streamlining. Tony looked utterly relaxed as he fell, a smirk on his lips when he saw you racing after him. But his proximity to the water should've scared him. Your heart pounded in your ears as you strained your arms reaching for Tony. You mustered up one last burst of energy, snatching up one of Tony's hands in yours just before he hit the water. “What in the world were you thinking, Tony Stark? You could've gotten killed!” you shouted. “I wanted to see your wings,” he said as if that was the most normal thing in the world. “Besides,” he continued in a confident tone, “I knew you'd catch me. You're my guardian angel after all.” For some reason, a warm feeling spread through your chest at his words. You began to feel slightly embarrassed again, so you hauled Tony up into your arms bridle style so he wouldn't notice. “Looks like you're my angel in shining armor, too.” He winked up at you. Your mouth twitched upward in spite of yourself. “I'm still angry with you, despite your attempt at charming me.” “Then the smile you had was just my imagination.” “Definitely.” With that final word, you took Tony back up to the house, that warm feeling still fluttering in your chest.

Four months after summoning: The metallic stench of blood wafted up your nose as you lay on the pavement, battered and bruised. “Pathetic angel. Did you honestly think you could defeat a demon like me in your weakened state?” The demon stood over you and stabbed his jagged blade back into your wounded shoulder. A raw scream of pain left your mouth, but you still struggled to free yourself from the demon. The evil being gave you an unimpressed, disgusted look. “You still fight, bird-human? Why?” Despite the piercing agony you felt, you still managed to croak some words at him, “Because I, agh, have something worth fighting for. Also, I really want to try some, damn it hurts, shawarma. I've heard great things about it.” The truth was, you were trying your best at keeping the demon away from Tony and the bystanders. The superhero didn't need an invisible enemy attacking him in the middle of his fight. He was battling some domestic terrorists who used alien technology to generate fear and take advantage of innocent people, so he needed all of his attention focused on them. He had also trusted you enough to let you come on the condition that you stayed away from the main battle. You were upset about that, but he hadn't ever seen you fight before. So you agreed (begrudgingly) to staying behind. Thank goodness he did, or people might've gotten hurt. The demon may have been after Tony, but they didn't care about other humans in their way. They were considered collateral damage by the devil. The demon growled. “So you're stupid as well, angel. Can't you see that humans aren't worth your life? They are insects compared to you, yet you protect them.” You gave him a bloodied, smug smile. “Mmm, I'd get bored otherwise, gargoyle.” “You won't be so witty as I kill the other humans and then your human as I make you watch.” The rusty blade was removed from your shoulder, making you bite your lip in an attempt to keep from screaming again. The demon raised his sword above his head, activating its Hellfire. Your eyes widened, and your heartbeat sped up. There was only one reason that he'd activate his power: to cut off your wings. You tried to crawl away, but he stepped on your knee, and you heard the sickening crack of bone breaking. You cried out, but you still crawled in spite of the agony perforating your body. You had to, for Tony. This time he stepped on your other knee, effectively trapping you on the rough concrete. “Prepare to-” “Do us all a favor and stop with the terrible monologue. You just don't have the voice for it.” The familiar, pleasant voice of your charge interrupted the demon. Your head snapped in the direction of the voice to find Tony standing a few feet away from you with his helmet off, his right repulsor aimed directly at the fiend's head. The demon froze in shock, dropping his weapon. The first thought that came to your mind was how in the world could he see and hear the demon? The second and more prevailing thought that came to you was Tony's safety. You managed a hoarse warning. “Tony, get away!” The hero kept his ground, actually stepping closer to the enemy. “Can't do that, Y/N. He's hurt my guardian angel.” He gave you a wink before shooting his repulsor straight at the demon's face without blinking before they could react. All that was left of his face after the blast consisted of his horns. The body promptly turned into dust, as all demons do when they die. “You're such an idiot.” You sighed, before you fell into a coughing fit, golden blood leaking from your lips. He rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance. “The idiot that just saved your life.” With that, he scooped you up in his arms, careful not to jostle your injured body. “My human in shining armor, how sweet...” you said as you drifted off from the pain, safe in the arms of your hero.

Six months after summoning: “You aren't gonna dance, Y/N?” You flashed Rhodey a dismissive smile. “No, I'm good. I'm a terrible dancer anyway.” The lieutenant colonel gave you a skeptical look and then said, “Or maybe it has something to do with the person you want to dance with is currently taken.” You crossed your arms and avoided Rhodey's gaze. “Has absolutely nothing to do with it, absolutely nothing.” The lieutenant colonel raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, doing a terrible job at hiding a smirk. “Whatever you say, Y/N.” He walked off to talk with some of the other guests, making you breathe a sigh of relief. You didn't need another person bringing up feelings. Lately, your mortal body would react in the most uncontrollable ways just thinking about Tony. The symptoms got worse whenever you were near him. You didn't feel like eating. You couldn't sleep even though your human body needed it. Your words would fail you, your brain becoming a jumbled mess. It felt like someone had injected you with a drug that wouldn't leave your system no matter what. Honestly, you considered not going to this charity ball because of the upheaval your body was going through. It started around the time Tony saved you from the demon. After he snooped around in angel lore, he found out that the primary duty of a guardian angel was protecting their human from demons. Researching further, the engineer figured out your weakness and decided he'd create some technology using the biological components of that feather he took from you in case you needed backup. The scientist didn't tell you in so many words, but you knew he did it because he cared about you. He visited you in the private SHIELD hospital room he'd gotten you almost every day. He'd crack jokes, update you on finding a way to get you back to heaven. It felt so nice to be cared for, especially by someone you'd spent so much time doing the same for. You got to see that beautiful heart of his firsthand, feel his hand on your shoulder, have him looking at you instead of through you. Your head denied feeling anything, but your heart screamed at you that you were and that there was nothing you could do. “Care to dance, Y/N?” a boyish, yet smooth voice interrupted your dangerous thoughts. Your heart fluttered in your chest, recognizing the voice of the very man you had just been thinking about. You slowly turned around, finding Tony holding out his hand with that famous flirtatious grin of his adorning his lips. “Of, of course.” You gave him your best smile, hoping he didn't notice your nervousness. “Good. That saves me from having to drag you onto the dance floor.” You shot a glare over at him, but the smile still on your face betrayed how you really felt. You snatched up the millionaire's hand in yours and guided him to the dance floor, praying he wouldn't notice your sweaty palms. Tony took you by the waist and drew you in closer, gently swaying you to the mellow beat of the music. However, once he pulled you closer, you felt a gush of fear and panic overcome you. These feelings, they weren't yours. They were Tony's. You gave him a look of concern, noticing his paling skin and the sweat dripping down his face. Soon you began to feel a slight tremble in his hands. You knew what was happening, and it'd be worse in front of other people. Your smile turned into a worried frown. “You're in no shape to dance, Tony Stark. I'm taking you outside.” Not giving him any time for protesting, you dragged him outside into the garden by the enormous hall. “What are you doing? Y/N, I'm fine.” Even as he said it, you felt his trembling get worse than it was before. You took a deep breath and took him in your arms, not caring how embarrassed you were at the moment. “Tony, you're not alright. But I'm here for you until you're ready to let me go. I got you, nothing can hurt you here,” you mumbled into his ear, rubbing a hand in circles on his back. A moment of silence passed before he spoke in a shaky voice, “One of the reporters started talking about the Battle of New York, asking me all sorts of questions about what happened. I felt fine until I looked down at the dark floor and I was back in that wormhole, falling to my death.” “I'm here to catch you, Tony. I won't let you die.” You held him a little tighter. “Take a deep breath in, one two three four.” You felt his chest rise in response. “Then let it out, one two three four.” His breath tickled your ear as he let it out. For ten minutes, you continued with this exercise, encouraging Tony to breathe and holding him in your embrace. Only once you felt the tension in his body release and his heart rate slow back down did you let your charge go. “Whadda ya say we ditch this party and go have some real fun? Stop playing it safe and lose control?” Tony interjected, wanting a break from all the stress of the party. Part of you wanted to tell him no, knowing those feelings brewing inside you would only grow stronger each moment you spent with the mechanic. The better part of you told you your feelings didn't matter at this moment. Tony needed a distraction to help him recover, and you'd be damned if you'd abandon him in his moment of need. You took your hand in his and simpered. “Let's go do just that. I've been itching to get out of here ever since I had someone sneeze on me...twice. I've never been more disgusted.” Tony cringed in sympathy. “Agreed. What do you say about going on a night fly together? Haven't seen those gorgeous wings in a while.” Your eyes turned downwards for a moment, slightly flustered by his offhanded compliment. Then you met his gaze again with a twinkle in your eyes. “Why not? They've been in need of some stretching.” A look of fake shock crossed the millionaire's face. “What, you don't do angel yoga?” You rolled your eyes with a smile on your lips. “Funny, very funny.” Letting your hand go, Tony took a mock bow. “Thank you.” You resisted another eye roll, taking a step away and holding out your arms, gesturing for him to climb in them. “I can fly you to your house if you want, be faster than driving.” “I don't know; you said someone sneezed on you. I don't need a cold, can't make as many suits,” the man ruminated, putting a hand to his chin in thought. An unimpressed look formed on your face. Tony knew you couldn't get sick, being an angel. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer, Tony. Take it or leave it.” He slowly wrapped an arm around your neck and draped himself into your waiting arms. “You know I can't resist being in the arms of my angel in shining armor.” Instead of annoying you, the nickname brought about that familiar fuzzy feeling you'd been trying to avoid earlier. “Not that nickname again,” you half-heartedly complained, hoping he didn't notice your lack of committal. With that, you took off into the night sky and set out for Tony's house. The air might have been cold, but your heart was warm as you glided with Tony in your arms, a childlike smile that could light up the world adorning his face. For one moment, everything was right in the world.

Eight months after summoning: No. It couldn't be. You couldn't believe it. There it stood, though, the Mark of the Damned. The pain the Mark gave you served as another confirmation. You could pretend that you didn't know why it was there, but both your mind and heart knew. You had violated the most sacred rule of guardian angels, falling in love with your human charge. You thought avoiding Tony would help, but it only made it worse. You missed him terribly, and it broke your heart to see him with such a sad look in his eyes. “What is that, Y/N?” You damn near jumped off the floor in surprise, forgetting that you had left the bathroom door open. “Nothing you need to worry about, Tony,” you replied in a dismissive tone, pulling your shirt back over the Mark. You saw the man cross his arms in the mirror, very clearly not satisfied with your lackluster answer. “Deflecting is my style, not yours. A burn isn't "nothing." You're hiding something, and I wanna know what.” You sighed, pinching your nose in frustration. “Tony, knowing might make you do something stupid or dangerous. I can't tell you.” The hurt in his expression made your heart lurch. “Can't tell me or won't?” You bit your lip to keep tears from falling and tried to leave the bathroom. The emotions in the room were suffocating you. However, Tony stepped in front of you and blocked the only exit, effectively trapping you. You kept your gaze straight ahead, knowing if you met those beautiful brown eyes that you'd fall apart. “Please move, Tony. I want out,” you pleaded, desperate to get away from him again. “No, you can't keep running away from me, Y/N,” he replied tersely. “I'm not leaving till I get answers.” You crossed your arms, trying to provide yourself with a kind of comfort. “What if I told you that if I revealed why I have this Mark, you'd be in danger from my superiors? Beings who are infinitely more powerful than me?” Tony scoffed. “I've fought angry gods and homicidal aliens before. I can take on a few self-righteous halo-wearers.” You finally looked over at him, a desperate and sad look in your eyes. “No, Tony, it's not the same. They can erase your memory or cause great injury to you. Not to mention that your technology won't work on them; they're too strong.” You could tell that Tony didn't look the least bit swayed or bothered by what you just said. “Does it look like I care?” he said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Just because your job is to protect me doesn't mean you can stop me from protecting you. I wanna know who hurt you.” You broke eye contact again and looked down at the floor. Telling him would almost certainly reveal your feelings. You didn't want him to find out, but you couldn't half-ass the explanation or tell him a white lie. He wasn't stupid, and you weren't the best liar. A moment passed before you let out a shaky breath and dived right into the explanation, Tony's expectant eyes on you. “It's called the Mark of the Damned. You get it for disobeying the most binding Guardian Angel rule.” “And what is that?” His stare seemed to be boring into your soul at this point. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you managed to keep them in before you said in a small voice, “Never fall in love with a human.” You omitted the stipulation that it was falling in love with your chosen human that got you in the most trouble. You were hoping to keep Tony from finding out about your feelings for him a little longer. “…I see. Is it the mailman who dropped packages off here as an excuse to see you or the person who kept flirting with you at the charity ball?” You bit your lip again and shook your head. “No, Tony. None of them. Think closer to home.” Tony asked in a strained voice, “Is it Rhodey? Because I could see why.” “No, Tony. Not him.” You finally looked up into those warm brown eyes of his, shocked by the pain you saw hiding in them. “Who's the person who never gave up on trying to get me home? Who's the person who told me to let go of control and enjoy life? Who's the person that took care of me when I nearly died? Who's the person that risked their life for mine against an unknown enemy?” Your lips stretched into a bittersweet smile. Then those tears you'd been holding back started pouring from your eyes like rain from storm clouds. “You see, I could try to run from you, but I realize now that it's useless. Being with you has changed my life, and I'll never be the same.” Tony stood there in shock, finding himself speechless (which was rare). Your heart pounded in your ears, your body shaking. After a few seconds, you couldn't take it anymore. You ducked under one of Tony's arms and started walking in the direction of the front door. However, just as you reached out for the door handle, you felt his calloused hand grab your wrist and spin you around. Before you could shout out in surprise, your lips were covered by the touch of another pair of lips. Your eyes bugged out of your head for a moment, not believing that it was Tony kissing you. Your brain couldn't compute. The man pulled away before you got a chance to respond in kind. Then he laughed a little at the bug-eyed expression written on your face. “I thought you said no more running away, Y/N.” The shocked expression on your face melted into a joyful smile, momentarily forgetting about the danger. You replied in a tearful voice, “Yeah, I know. I'm a nervous, confused ball of energy right now, okay?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Confused? How can an "a being of mighty, awesome power with wings of light" be confused?” You let out a nervous laugh. “Being suddenly kissed by someone will do that to any being, powerful or not.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and tilted his head in puzzlement. “Does it really surprise you that I would like you back?” “Yes, it really does,” you said in a resigned manner. “You've known me less than a year, Tony. You're a human; I'm an angel. I could get you hurt. Besides, part of me hoped that you didn't like me back. It would've made leaving you easier.” Tony opened his mouth to refute you, but then your last words registered. “Leaving you? What's that supposed to mean?” You backed away from Tony, walking toward the front door. “The Mark is burning, Tony. Those superiors I told you about, they're coming to take me back to the heavens. I have to stand trial for my crimes.” You attempted a happy smile, but it turned into a bitter one. “And I can't let you be near me when they do.” “What do you mean by that?” You saw Tony take a step towards you, probably planning on stopping you. However, you couldn't have him doing that. So you raised your hand and used what little power you had left to halt his progress completely. Tony made an effort to move forward but found himself unable to do so. He gave you a look of disbelief and betrayal. “This is how it is, then. You'll leave, and you won't let me protect you.” “I'm your guardian angel, after all, not the other way around.” You sent him one last smile with one final tear gleaming in your eye. Then you stepped out of the millionaire's house and flew up into the sky, not once looking back. You enjoyed the feel of the breeze through your wings, knowing it would most likely be the last time you experience it. Almost as if on cue, you felt a great power surge, and warrior angels appeared in front of you with weapons at the ready. “Do not resist, Y/N,” one of them commanded, “Or things will end-” “Badly for me. Yes, I know.” You sighed in annoyance. “I'll come willingly.” You held out your hands, waiting for the handcuffs. They gave you a skeptical look, then one of them clasped the handcuffs around your wrists in a cautious manner. They subsequently flew on either side of you, and each took a shoulder of yours in their grasp before you all flashed back to Heaven's Court of Judgement. You were standing in front of a vast assembly of angels, all with varying looks of disgust, disappointment, or sadness. The room grew silent as the honorable Judge sat down in their throne with a grave expression on their face. “Here before you stands the accused, Y/N of the lowest choir of angels. The charges against them: Letting a human summon them and defying the Guardian Angel's most sacred rule. Their possible sentence: banishment from Heaven. Y/N, do you wish to defend yourself against the charges?” “No,” you stated in a resolute tone. The Judge's frown lines deepened. “Do you realize the graveness of your situation, Y/N? If you do not offer up any explanation for your grievous transgressions, you will be found guilty and thrown from the sky, in which you have no guarantee that you'll survive the fall.” Your hands shook, but you managed looked up into the other angel's eyes with a steely gaze. “I have nothing I should be ashamed of, so I don't see the need to explain myself to you or anyone else. If that deems me guilty, then so be it. If loving another is what kills me, then I'll die gladly.” You were a bit dramatic, but you needed their focus on you. The pain you'd go through didn't matter, despite your fear of it. You'd do anything to keep them from hurting Tony. Besides, what better way to keep them distracted than by telling the truth? “So be it, Y/N of the Guardian Angels,” the Judge replied in cold, apathetic tone. “With your blatant disregard for the rules and complete lack of penance, I find you guilty of all charges. Your punishment shall be banishment from Heaven and the pain that the fall shall bring about.” No sound could be heard as the warrior angels grabbed you again and guided you over to the Banishment Gateway. You felt the icy coldness of fear creeping in your veins, but it wasn't nearly as powerful as you expected it to be. That warm feeling of love Tony gave you countered the fear's effects, made you feel safe. Even as you felt yourself being thrown from Heaven, fading out and burning as you fell through Earth's atmosphere, you knew that love was all worth it in the end.

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Tony Stark or other Marvel characters and their stories. Gif belongs to the creator.

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stankrhodes · 6 years ago

Text

They Don’t Know About Us by One Direction [Songfic] - Starkquill

Ship: Starkquill

Warnings: none

Author’s note: My plan for week 3 is to have a bunch of song-fics. Fluff or angst (probably mostly fluff but who knows)

Word Count: 1,704

Fic Day: #16/30

Note: It took me a really long time to find a song that would fit this ship and when I settled on this I decided that I would ignore the gender mentions. So, I took out all the ‘girls’ . Also, I am still alive. I’ve been a long-lasting funk but I got some motivation and I’m spurring out stuff so yeah :)

Song: They Don’t Know About Us by One Direction (take me back to the good old days)

People say, we shouldn’t be together

We’re too young to know about forever

But I say they don’t know what they talk talk talkin’ about

Tony, not usually one for feeding into the media’s lies about his love life, was, for once, reading an article on his and Quill’s relationship.

As biases come, the article was clearly aimed at gearing the reader toward disapproving his relationship and Tony just wanted to burn the whole company down. Hell, he’d sue if Quill cared about it at all, but since he didn’t, there was no point in starting a conflict.

Cause this love is only getting stronger

So I don’t wanna wait any longer

I just wanna tell the world that you’re mine

“Peter!” Tony yelled when he walked into the compound. Running up to the man, Tony was relieved that he could finally see Peter after having been apart for three months. “Hey, Tony.” He laughed when Tony nuzzled his face into his neck. “I missed you, too.”

*snap* Tony stilled and Peter’s hand stopped moving into his hair. Tony lifted his head to find Peter Parker, the resident picture-taker of the compound, taking the photo and sighed. “Well? Are you going to introduce us?” Tony chuckled at the teen.

“Peter.” his hand pointed to Quill, “meet Pete.”His hand now pointed to the teenage vigilante with a second personality.

“And who’s he?” Parker said, somewhat offended. There was a pause as Tony looked at Quill lovingly.

“My boyfriend.” “Have you told anyone besides me?” Tony responded, “Rhodey and Pep.”

“Are you going to tell anyone else?” Tony shrugged. “When he’s ready,” he said and pointed at Peter.

Oh, they don’t know about the things we do

They don’t know about the I love you’s

But I bet you if they only knew

They would just be jealous of us

“Hey,” Tony whispered one night as Peter traced lines (probably stars or galaxies) across his arm. “Yeah?” “I love you.”

They had officially been dating for a year and were somehow able to keep it a secret. However, with so much getting ready to go down, the Rogues returning and more unnecessary shit, Tony felt that he needed Peter to know how he felt about him. “I love you, too Tony. What’s this about?” Worry had begun to weave its way into his voice and Tony turned over to face Peter.

“I just wanted you to know. A lot is about to happen and we’re going to have to come out about this one day and I want to savor this moment. With you.”

They don’t know about the up all nights

They don’t know I’ve waited all my life

Just to find a love that feels this right

“FRIDAY? Eta?” “The Guardians will be arriving in 2 hours boss.”

Tony groaned and decided he couldn’t focus on anything other than the worry that came with the Guardians of the Galaxy and their rude timeliness. At 3 am Tony, a man who was getting his shit together and sleeping at reasonable times for once was awake and so damn tired he felt he was going to get into the Iron Man suit and sleep.

Two hours later, Tony, somehow still awake, was sitting at the common room kitchen table. When the Guardians entered, they stopped just shy of the door to quiet themselves but saw Tony sitting there instead. Tony had put his tablet on the table in favor of stretching his body and spoke, “Fri?”

His question needed no answer when he looked straight and saw his second family. “Tony,” they greeted and he smiled.

Hugging each of them was a normal thing (also being almost squished by Drax was as well) and being met with a soft kiss from Peter was as well. “Welcome home,” he said as he leaned into Peter’s side. “Good to be back,” Gamora replied and smiled softly at the dynamic between Peter and Tony.

She would never understand them but what she did understand was that they loved each other and that was all that mattered.

Baby they don’t know about, they don’t know about us

Just one touch and I was a believer, every kiss gets a little sweeter

It’s getting better

Keeps getting better all the time

“Hey let’s go out tonight.” Tony’s proposition immediately caught Peter’s attention. Looking up from the book he was reading on Tony’s bed, Peter shrugged and replied, “Why not?” Tony smiled and walked into their bathroom to change into his clothing for the day.

Later that day, Tony ran into Steve Rogers. It wasn’t the first time they would run into each other and Tony was becoming more comfortable with the fact that The Rogues were going to be around more. However, that did not mean Tony was comfortable with the people themselves.

“Rogers,” he started and the man nodded slightly. “Tony.” Tony sighed and walked away. He didn’t have time for sentimentalities from someone that almost killed him.

That night, Peter stood in front of Tony’s door dressed in a suit with a rose in hand. Tony laughed and took the flower. “I expected nothing less.” Peter smiled and Tony kissed his cheek. Peter turned his head and captured Tony’s lips.

“That will never get old,” he said softly.

They don’t know about the things we do

They don’t know about the I love you’s

But I bet you if they only knew

They would just be jealous of us

“I don’t know what it is about Tony but he’s been different since we got back,” Steve spoke to the room of his friends- the people that had chosen his side that had led to this rift between him and Tony.

“That’s an understatement,” Clint’s snarky reply came and Steve sighed.

“Is it that Quill guy?” Sam asked despite knowing that none of this information concerned him. To him, Steve was too obsessed with trying to be friends with Tony again. Sam knew, however, that was not going to be happening. Not after everything that Steve and the team had done.

“Oh and then there’s that guy!” Clint perked up. Steve’s face had a slight downfall when Quill was first mentioned and it remained in that expression for a moment.

“He’s always around. And if it’s not him, someone from his team is always with Tony. It’s like they’re trying to keep him away from us.” Clint complained.

Sam took one look at Steve and knew those words, and Quill being brought up in the first place, were not resonating with him comfortably.

They don’t know how special you are

They don’t know what you’ve done to my heartbeat

They can say anything they want

‘Cause they don’t know about us

“Peter Quill.” Tony greeted the man obnoxiously. Peter, confused as all hell, responded, “Tony Stark.”

Tony tried to keep a straight face but he quickly molded and fell onto Peter who sat in the love seat of the common room laughing. Peter, not surprised by the unnecessary behavior, just put a bookmark in his book and put it on the table next to the seat.

Steve had walked into the common room and when he saw Tony and Peter enjoying their time together on that damn couch, he walked right back out.

They don’t know what we do best

That’s between me and you, our little secret

But I wanna tell ‘em

I wanna tell the world that you’re mine

“Should we tell them?” Tony asked. It was around 2 am and he was stressing out because a really important SI deadline was kicking his ass and he was tired. Peter had left for some outer space business but Tony had finally managed to get an outer-space communication system running and he was using that to talk to Peter.

“Why is this so important to you, Tony?” Peter didn’t sound annoyed and Tony was grateful. If Peter Quill was anything, he was patient with Tony and he valued that more than anything.

“I don’t know. No one else knows and you know how I’m a sucker for attention and-”

“Tony, listen to me. They do not need to know about us. No one needs to know about us because it’s not their business. Now, if you think about this and you decide that we should tell them, then I will have no problem with that but Tony, they’re approval shouldn’t mean anything to you anymore. You have us now.”

They don’t know about the things we do

They don’t know about the I love you’s

But I bet you if they only knew

They would just be jealous of us

Tony took a deep breath before he spoke. He was only talking to Peter but making this confession felt like he was talking to a room of reporters.

“We don’t have to tell them.” Peter smiled. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“I realized that I no longer need their validation. Allowing them to hold that bit of control over me takes the fun out of our relationship and that’s the last thing I want.”

The smile that covered Peter’s face wanted Tony to go buy a wedding ring right then and there.

They don’t know about the up all nights

They don’t know I’ve waited all my life

Just to find a love that feels this right

Baby they don’t know about, they don’t know about us

A small gathering of the New Avengers and the Guardians filled the room. The room was inside the courthouse that Peter and Tony were going to be married in.

“Do you, Peter Quill, take Tony Stark to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for rich or poor, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

Tony slid the gold ring onto Peter’s finger.

“And do you, Tony Stark, take Peter Quill to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for rich or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

Peter slid the other gold ring onto Tony’s finger.

#starkquill #peter quill #tony stark #countdown to infinity war #infinity war countdown #my writing

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butchlilith · 6 years ago

Note

daphne/niles, arthur russell's a little lost!! for the songfic meme!!!

this only took me a couple millennia; i hope it’s no disappointment!! even if it is i hope everyone listens to this song bc you’re the reason i listened to it (and also tea milk and honey on a separate occasion fghjkl thanks) for like a day straight.

It starts slow, your realization. It starts in the holding of a door, the offering of a jacket, the paying of a compliment. She’s always done these things, Dr. Crane, and you’ve loved her for it for years, the way she can make the smallest gesture fill you up. The way she never thinks anything of it, or never seems to, but it doesn’t start like that. It starts with you noticing, in the weeks after you first learn the thing you should not have learned, how she does it. Noticing how she moves. Noticing her hands, flitting around in her lap in the quietest way, fingers folding and unfolding. Just barely grazing your shoulders as she takes your coat from them before admiring your dress. Stretched out flat as you apply aloe to the burn, then curling inward just as you flinch away, skimming your palm. Worse, resting at Mel’s sides, delicate, as they kiss and staying there long after.

Mel‘s the first person you’ve ever seen her kiss, and you tell her as much in the quiet of her apartment, just the two of you on her couch, perfectly alone. You mention this because the weight of her invitation still hangs around your shoulders like her jacket at Christmastime—the way she’d guided Mel carefully from Frasier’s apartment, hand at the small of her back, then reached out to you with the very same one, voice soft: “Oh, and Daphne?” You mention this because she’s lit the candles in her living room tonight, casting shadows like water on her ceiling, and she’s only lit them once before, when she was meant to be on a date. You don’t know what to make of that if not the thing you fear.

Anyhow, you say it, and a nervous flash of a smile reaches the corners of her lips. She must have intended to tell you tonight, if she still feels the way she once did, but you’ve stolen the moment with your jealousy. “Is she?” she asks, and you do your best to smile in return. Years ago—even months, even weeks—you’d have been thrilled to see Dr. Crane as comfortable as she is with Mel. Now, entirely without meaning to, you wonder about it. You wonder whether she kisses as gently in private as in public, whether she kisses everyone the way she does Mel, whether she’s dreamt of kissing you like that.

But it’s not right to wonder such things about a woman with a girlfriend, and surely worse to wonder them as one with a fiancé, so you shrug. “Far as I can remember,” you say.

She frowns. “In six years?” she asks, but you’re still thinking of her dreaming of kissing you. It’s a disorienting idea, that. That a woman like Dr. Crane would ever dream of kissing you. You feel more certain still that you’ve made a mistake.

You say, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, of course not, no.” She shakes her head, not quite looking at you, the saddest you’ve seen her in years. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it is.”

“Not in the conventional sense, but…” She sighs. “No one?”

“No one.”

“Well, I suppose that makes sense, doesn’t it? With the woman I was seeing when you and I first met—“

“Maris,” you insist, because the avoidance hurts more than the ache of knowing your name can never fill that place.

“Oh!” She’s relieved, you think, almost edging up on a genuine smile. “Oh, that’s right,” she says. “I’ve told you all about that, haven’t I?”

“Not quite all.”

“Well, I’m sure you remember…”

And you remember everything. The moment she stole in the kitchen, whispering fragments of a romance longer than any you’ve ever had. She was nearly shaking, by the time she was through, all for some half-hearted embrace of Donny’s joining you at dinner. The thought of it—of a relationship so long, of Donny, of those two things bound up together, written into your future—frightens you into speaking. You say, “You were together ten years, weren’t you?”

“I would hardly call it together—“

“Oh!” you say, and you know it’s terribly rude, but you remember, in this moment of trying desperately to occupy your mind, something a woman who loved you could not forget.

She turns her head back to you, and you take in each detail of her face: the fractional raise of her left eyebrow, the once more barely upturned corners of her mouth, the faint glint in her eye—not the one Mel talked about, that comes before one of her jokes, but the one you’ve only just started noticing. The look she gets when she thinks she knows what you’re about to say. “Yes?”

You say, “We’ve kissed, haven’t we?”

You search her face for anything resembling the love you’re meant to have been missing for years but miss it still. Just a small laugh, the lowering of her eyes, a faint touch of the back of her hand to your arm. “You know, we have.”

“Although,” you say, searching for a reaction before you even get the words out, “I suppose it wasn’t really us, if you think about it.” And you mean it, of course, because you can’t lie on top of everything else. Because Dr. Crane doesn’t kiss the way Niles kissed you, passionate and certain and somehow new. She kisses like a habit, when she kisses at all, she and Mel, always the same.

You watch her smile falter, feel her draw her hands away. Pushing her glasses up her nose, so that you can hardly see her face, she says, “Oh, well, I suppose not.”

“Was in public, though,” you add like you’ve been on the subject all along. Like you haven’t been spending the evening watching each movement of her mouth, even longer the movements of her hands. You reach toward her in the same manner she had you not two minutes ago. “Been a long time since I kissed someone in front of so many people.”

A smile and an exhale, close enough to a laugh for her, or even for you, if not the rest of the world. She says, “Well, it won’t be too long before…”

“Three months.” You sigh. There is more you want to say, that kissing her never felt like something to tolerate, or that you’d count it if she would, or something better than that, but she doesn’t let you.

She says, “You must be thrilled,” and, God, she’s always been terrible at knowing when your feelings don’t line up with your words, but this is…

“More nervous than anything,” you say, and it’s your chance, maybe the only one you’ll get. “You know, it’s funny, but I wasn’t at all nervous when we kissed.”

Dr. Crane looks to you with surprise, and you think she may finally get the courage to say what she wishes. Her hand moves closer to yours, as if to take it, and she says, “That’s perfectly normal.”

“You weren’t either, then?” you ask, and you don’t even know what answer to want.

She shifts, enough for you to feel it, buying herself time and drawing her hand once more away from you. “You know, I was. I just mean— You know what that night was for me. It’s similar, in a way, to your nerves about kissing Donny now. To express such an intimate feeling, in front of your friends, your family— Is there anyone whose presence might be weighing on you, so to speak?”

It’s hers, of course. The thought of her standing just behind you, steps away from where she could be, silent. The visions about it have stopped, now, so that it’s just your imagining. She’s the only one you can stand to see there, even when the voice sounds nothing like hers. You force a laugh and say, “Just left of the altar.”

She smiles at that. “Ah,” she says. “Well, that’s understandable. Often—“

“Could we talk about something else, please?” You sound angrier than you’d meant, with her being so kind to you, and you swear you see her eyes go wide.

“Oh! Is that—? Are you sure you want to? I mean, I’d feel irresponsible not to—“

“Thank you, but I think I might prefer hearing more of your thoughts on the floral arrangements, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” she says, and she seems to become someone else almost instantly. Dr. Crane smiles in the way she does in crowds—not quite pretend, but not the one you’re used to—and says, “No, I can’t overstate how thrilled I am with your choices. Of course, I’m typically partial to a more narrative approach, but the rhododendrons should be lovely. Unconventional.”

“‘Unconventional,’” you repeat, mock-offended. “Listen to you. Well, you haven’t got to pretend to like them for my sake. Your brother certainly didn’t.”

“Well, I’m not my brother, am I?”

Without an answer that leaves whatever it is you feel hidden, you supply none. “What do they mean, anyway?”

“Rhododendrons?” she asks. “There’s no need to humor me.”

“No, really. I’d like to know, if you don’t mind.”

Apparently, she doesn’t. “I’m sure you know they’re the state flower,” she says, when she should really be less sure of it, “but, you know, traditionally, they’re—“ Settling back into her old self, she stumbles, trying to find the best words.

You smile, lean into her so close that even your hips touch, and she smiles, too, so nervous you can feel it in the air, a silent encouragement. Three months later, it’s the same energy, almost the same touch—your elbow around her neck, then sliding down her back, the skimming of hips—just before you kiss her. (And you do kiss her. You’ll try and fool yourself about this the next minute, but you kiss her before she can so much as finish a sentence.) You have to stop yourself from laughing as you pull away, realizing how careful she’s being, but you never can stop hearing her tell you, “They’re usually something of a warning.”

send me a song and a character/relationship/etc and i’ll try to write a fic!

#frasier fic #niles crane #daphne moon #niles x daphne #gaycranes #asks #this prompt response has the somewhat unique quality of being compatible with my original lesbian niles fic #i could be self-deprecating here but instead i'll say: if you want me to get better at writing... send me prompts!#i turned on anon but if anyone tries to engage me in something tiresome it's going off again #fic*

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justsomebucky · 7 years ago

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Knowing Him

Summary: Songfic AU. Reader struggles with new feelings and insecurities in a new relationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,596

Warnings: language, fluff, insecurity, bagel discourse

A/N: This is for @propertyofpoeandbucky‘s writing challenge (non-disney). My prompt was the song “How Will I Know?” by the iconic Whitney Houston. It’s short and fluffy. I listened to this song so many times I need a five-year break from it, haha.

There's a boy I know, he's the one I dream of Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above

You had another dream about him.

That was your first thought, first realization, first eye roll of the day as you awoke that Saturday morning. Eight dates was all it took…a mere one month of dating and you were already all-in with this one. There was just something about him…not that you wanted to be that way. Normally you were cautious with your heart.

It was a simple, soft morning as pale light streamed through your window and all over the room. Saturdays were usually your day to get a couple extra hours of sleep, but lately you’d been waking up on your own, always just after sunrise. It was like your subconscious was eager to start the day even if your body didn’t always want to cooperate.

You got out of bed almost lazily, as if slowing down the process would allow the images from your dream to linger. It was easy to get lost in the romanticism of it all, after growing up with Disney movies that brainwashed you with this starry-eyed happily-ever-after stuff.

Ooh I lose control, can't seem to get enough When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love

In the dream, Bucky held you in his arms, something that wasn’t unusual. You felt safe and happy, which was also normal. But then…

It was totally normal to dream about saying ‘I love you’ to someone you had only been dating for a month…wasn’t it?

After all, dreams were where implausible, crazy things happened. It was almost like the dream where you go to school in your underpants and don’t realize it, or the one where you clench your jaw and crunch all your teeth together by accident. They were just fears coming to mind while you were asleep, so that your brain could confront a fear or something.

It didn’t mean anything…right?

“Right,” you confirmed aloud to absolutely no one.

You made your way to the kitchen, still in your pajamas, and settled on a quick bowl of cereal for breakfast. Cereal was comfortable and familiar, like your pajamas, like the couch you sat down on, like the news anchors on TV who’d been there for nearly a decade…

…and familiar meant that you knew all about it. It meant that you weren’t second-guessing anything, because you didn’t have to. You weren’t wondering if you were crazy or imagining things, imagining feelings that weren’t really there.

Could your new relationship really be going this well? It seemed almost absurd to you. All your past experiences were nothing like this.

You heard your phone ring, the dream dilemma momentarily forgotten as you realized (with a really loud groan) that it was still on the counter next to the cereal box. You stood up and set your cereal bowl on the coffee table, making your way to the phone to stop its incessant ringing.

A quick glance at the caller ID told you who it was. “Hey, Wanda.”

“Y/N! You’re actually awake?” Her voice was cheerful as usual, though her thick accent always seemed to make her sound bored to someone who didn’t know her as well as you.

You leaned against the counter, vaguely wondering how long it would take for your cereal to get soggy. “Yeah, it’s this new…thing…anyways, what’s up?”

“I was calling to see if you had plans today. I thought maybe you’d wanna catch a movie or something? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

That was eye roll moment number two. “I’m not as busy as you think, Wanda, it’s just that we have similar work schedules.”

“And you’ve been seeing that Borky guy-“

“Bucky,” you corrected her, biting back a smile. She knew what his damn name was, she was just agitated that he’d taken up a lot of your time lately.

“Whatever,” Wanda sighed. “Are you in or not? The weather’s going to be perfect for staying inside.”

That’s exactly what you had been thinking, though you were hoping to stay in your pajamas. “Sure, Wanda, but can we watch a movie here on Netflix or something instead of going out?”

“Yes! That works for me.”

“Okay. Maybe we can order in, too.”

She paused for a second. “I was worried that you might ditch me for him again.”

“You ditch me for Vis all the time,” you reminded her. “Remember the trip I planned?”

Before Bucky, before you had even decided to try dating again, you had planned a little trip to a music festival upstate you’d been wanting to go to for years. You plotted the entire weekend and sent the details to Wanda, only to have her thank you and go with her boyfriend instead.

“I thought you planned a romantic trip for us,” she protested with a laugh. “It’s not my fault you wanted the romance for you and me instead.”

“You are so funny,” you muttered, glancing back at your cereal. Yeah, it was probably mush by now.

“Oh, you know you love me. At least I have that over Borky, right?”

How will I know (Don't trust your feelings) How will I know How will I know (Love can be deceiving) How will I know

You stayed silent, your eyes flickering to the counter.

“Right?” Wanda prodded again.

When you didn’t answer a second time, she sighed in your ear. “Please tell me it’s not true.”

“Wanda!” you exclaimed, feeling a little offended. “Why can’t I feel what I feel?”

“Because you always do this, Y/N. You get these really deep feelings way too soon, and you always get your heart broken. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, friend.”

Technically, she wasn’t wrong. You did tend to give your whole heart in your relationships, probably much sooner than the other person, but it was only because you cared deeply about people. You thought people deserved love, and while in the past you were better off just being friends, there was no denying that what you really wanted was true love.

Maybe that was the true issue.

Were you forcing it already? Did you make it all up, project onto Bucky what you wanted him to feel to justify it? Wanda’s words struck a chord; now you weren’t even sure yourself.

“Well, friend,” you echoed, trying by failing to keep the irritation out of your tone. “How am I supposed to know what I’m feeling? How am I supposed to predict how he’s feeling, while we’re at it?”

How will I know if he really loves me I say a prayer with every heartbeat I fall in love whenever we meet I'm asking you what you know about these things

“Well, has he said anything about it yet?”

With your cereal long forgotten, you flopped back down on the couch. “I mean, not really, no. Nothing like, explicitly declaring his love for me if that’s what you mean.”

Now the world didn’t seem as warm and bright as it had earlier, as if the sky was reflecting your change in mood. The clouds that were promised by the local weatherman were rolling in, and with them came a dim light and slight chill in the air.

Wanda didn’t speak for a few beats.

You picked at a piece of lint on your pajama pants. “Wan?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N,” she said finally. “You don’t want to say it too soon, you know, because you don’t want to scare him off, right?”

That was a reasonable statement. You stretched your legs out, putting your feet on the coffee table.

“Right. But I don’t want it to seem like he’s just a casual thing for me either, Wanda.”

“So ask him.”

How will I know if he's thinking of me I try to phone but I'm too shy (can't speak) Falling in love is all bittersweet This love is strong, why do I feel weak

The mere thought of bringing any of this up to Bucky made you want to curl up in a ball and hide under a blanket. You’d been so sure this morning, so certain that you were right, that this connection was different and much stronger than previous relationships.

It must not be that strong if one call from your best friend could derail your confidence that much.

“I can practically hear your panicked thoughts over the line,” Wanda laughed. “Y/N, I’m going to ask you some rapid-fire questions, okay? It’s something that Vis told me about, from an article he read or something. Whatever your first answer is, that’ll be it, okay?”

You made a face. “Uh, I guess?”

“Okay. Here we go.”

“Okay.” Your grip on the phone tightened. For some reason you were nervous to see if this would actually work.

You were nervous if the truth would be different from what you wanted it to be.

“Earth to Y/N! Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Is it raining?”

“No.”

“Is my name Wanda?”

“Yes.”

“Are you at work?”

“No.”

“Is it Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Did you go outside today?”

“No.”

“Are all dogs cute?”

“Yes”

“Do you love Bucky?”

“Yes.”

Your left hand clamped over your mouth in shock. You sure as hell blurted that out without thinking.

Oh, wake me, I'm shaking, wish I had you near me now Said there's no mistaking, what I feel is really love

Wanda chuckled on the other end of the line. “So anyways, there’s your answer about your feelings, Y/N. I guess it’s true.”

You could barely hear her, though, as your thoughts raced and you tried to focus on the implications. That might have solved half of the dilemma, but it still didn’t answer your main question:

Did Bucky Barnes love you, too?

How will I know (Don't trust your feelings) How will I know How will I know (Love can be deceiving) How will I know

“So now,” Wanda continued, her voice getting louder. “Now you text him and spend the day with him instead, okay?”

You shook your head. “Wait, I thought you wanted to come over and watch movies?”

“I did,” she agreed nonchalantly. “I’m over it. Go be with Borky, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe?”

“Okay, Wanda, and thank you. I love you.”

“Oh, now you just love everybody, is that it?”

“Again, so funny.”

“Love you too. Have fun. Text me later.”

If he loves me, if he loves me not

You pressed end on the call, then stared at your contact list. Bucky’s name was just sitting there, ready for use. All you had to do was press call, or send a quick text. All you had to do was take a step towards the truth.

If he loves me, if he loves me not

“Come on,” you muttered, giving the phone a shake as if it was the reason you weren’t calling or texting Bucky. “You can do this.”

If he loves me, if he loves me not

What would you even say, though? ‘Hey, it’s Y/N. Wanna come over and maybe let me know if you love me or not?’

“Feh.” You stood up and launched the phone into the couch cushions, deciding to dump your mushy cereal while you tried to come up with what to say to him.

“This shouldn’t be so hard,” you chided yourself as you scraped the congealed cereal into the garbage bin. “You’ve been together an entire month now. Four weeks. Eight whole incredible dates. You can-“

Your self-pep talk was interrupted by a few raps on the door. It was probably your neighbor telling you to stop talking to yourself. That’s the kind of crazy your insecurity was causing.

You opened the door, not bothering to adjust your hair or pajamas.

To your utter surprise (and inner despair), Bucky was standing in your doorway, his blue-grey eyes wide as he took in your messy state.

“Y/N, hey,” he greeted with a warm smile. “Can I come in?”

“I uh…I wasn’t expecting you, Bucky. You usually text first?” You felt your face growing warm with embarrassment as you moved aside to let him in. If only you hadn’t worn your Wonder Woman pajamas to bed last night. Why, why, why…

“I’m sorry about that.” He held up a paper bag. “But I was nearby and I brought you bagels. You know, the ones you like from the café on the corner of Union and...what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, moving around him to head to your bedroom. “Let me just get changed.”

“Why?”

A quick glance back at him stopped you in your tracks. He truly looked confused. “Because I’m in my pajamas, my hair’s a mess, I’ve not even washed my face let alone put on makeup, Buck…I just…a little warning would have been nice.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky repeated, stepping closer to you, his hands sliding to rest on your hips as he turned you back toward him. There was a small smile on his mouth and sincerity in his eyes. “I think you look great.”

“I look like a sloppy nerd,” you pouted, trying in vain to pull back from his embrace. So maybe you were flirting a little, too. Whatever. You had information to dig up, so it was almost necessary.

Oh, how will I know?

“You do,” he agreed, his smile widening. “But it’s really cute. And you’re cute when you’re embarrassed, too.”

“Bucky!”

He finally got you to stand still by brushing his lips over yours once, twice, enough times to make you lean into the kiss for more. The two of you stood there, wrapped up in each other for what seemed like ten minutes but was probably less than one, before he pulled back to look at you, his eyes twinkling.

“So I take it you forgive me?”

“I guess.” You shrugged as you untangled yourself from him, making your way over to the counter and the bagels he brought. You emptied the bag and opened the cream cheese. “I mean, you did bring me food, so you must really care.”

“I do care, obviously,” Bucky agreed, coming up behind you and reaching for a bagel. “I mean, love makes me do weird things, like show up early with breakfast. Speaking of, do you want yours toasted or not?”

You felt utter shock for the second time that day as you set the cream cheese down and stared at him.

He waved the bagel in your direction. “Toasted? Not toasted?”

“Not,” you said softly, offering him a smile.

Bucky gave a nod and set your bagel on a plate for you, then moved to toast his while you went over to the couch with all the supplies. Apparently he didn’t realize the gravity of his casual comment, or if he did, he wasn’t letting on.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asked as he settled in beside you, steadying his plate on his knee.

“Yeah. I’ll let you pick,” you offered, taking a generous bite. Those bagels really were heavenly.

“Really? You’d even watch an old war movie with me?” Bucky gave you an incredulous glance, then wrapped his free arm around you, reaching for the remote with the other hand. “I thought you hated those.”

“Yeah,” you repeated, snuggling closer to him. “I mean, love makes me do weird things, like put up with your bad taste in movies.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Good to know.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #iyllaswritingchallenge #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfiction #jsd knowing him #i only read over this twice so I'm really sorry if there are errrors

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ddproductionsw77 · 7 years ago

Text

Friday I’m In Love

Fandom: IT (2017)

Pairing(s): Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak)

Characters: (Major) Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak (Minor) Maggie Tozier, Wentworth Tozier, and Sonia Kaspbrak, (Mentioned) a couple of the other Losers

Rating: T (M if language and violence offends you but nothing sexual)

Description: Richie and Eddie have a pretty shit week (Reddie songfic to “Friday, I’m in Love” by The Cure) (Aged-up to high school)

Author’s Note: I dunno… I just love this song and this just kind of happened but I’m a little in love with it???

I don't care if Monday's blue

Richie had always hated Mondays. They only meant another week of school he’d have to find some way to survive through. A Junior in high school at the age of 17, he was desperate to get through his last couple of years of required education and do… well, something more interesting than Algebra II, that was for fucking sure.

Waking up that Monday, the fall of 1992, Richie clambered out of bed in a bit of a blur. Searching for his glasses, he finally found them and shoved them onto his face, tripping around his bedroom. He’d hit snooze on the alarm clock one too many times again and was running a tad late.

In his hurry and because he still hadn’t fully grown in his gangly limbs, Richie tripped over one of his bright red Chuck Taylor and groaned from the floor.

“Dammit, Richard! Keep it down! I’m trying to sleep!” He heard his mother scream from down the hallway.

Rolling his eyes, he sat up and rubbed the place where his shoulder had collided with his dresser on the way down. Unable to keep his notorious mouth shut, he called back, “Sorry, Mother Dearest! Silly me, I fell and almost killed myself! Inconsiderate, I know!”

There was a pause and then his father’s voice, “Richard, stop being an idiot and get ready for school!”

Nodding to himself and running a hand down his face, Richie forced himself to his feet, muttering, “Yeah, stop being an idiot, Richard.”

He made his way quickly to the dresser he’d nearly killed himself on a second ago and scrambled to find some articles of clean clothing. He really should do more laundry… Fuck all knows, Maggie Tozier couldn’t be bothered with making sure her kid had anything decent to wear.

Richie pulled on a white t-shirt featuring The Cure and some black ripped jeans, tugging on his old, favorite matching hoodie, zipping up the hole-ridden thing. He smiled a little, just imagine what his best friend would say when he saw him adorning the same hoodie once again.

A disaster, That’s what Eds had called it last time he’d seen it on Richie. You’re wearing a fucking disaster, Richie.

A grin still on his lips, Richie quickly made his way downstairs only to meet his father in the kitchen where he’d intended to quickly make some toast for the road. He tried to spin on his heel to avoid the man but was immediately called back.

Sighing, he turned around, “What can I do for you, Daddy-o?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Wentworth barked, making Richie flinch involuntarily and immediately flush in embarrassment for doing so. “I need you to actually be home tonight. Be responsible for once, you know? Your mother’s sick—“

Richie snorted and was smacked hard in the ear by his glaring father.

“Sorry.” The boy mumbled half-heartedly.

Wentworth continued, “Your mother’s sick and someone needs to look after her.”

Yeah, someone needs to…just not you, right, Dad?

Richie forced his eyes to stay on his father and not roll back in his head. His ear still stung from being hit a second ago, he wasn’t jonesing for a repeat.

“So, you get your dumbass back here the second that goddamn bell rings. You understand, Richie?”

Richie nodded, a beat later feeling his father’s hand collide with the side of his face once again.

“I said, you understand, dumbass?”

Gritting his teeth, Richie growled out, “I understand.”

Yeah, Richie hated Mondays.

Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too

Eddie sighed and looked worriedly at his wristwatch before glancing at the classroom door once again. It was halfway through the third period on Tuesday and the seat beside him was still empty.

After his best friend had canceled his plans to meet the rest of the Losers at the Aladdin movie theater and then traded his shift at the arcade with one of his co-workers, Eddie had been left understandably confused. Richie was a sucker for classic movies and he loved his job, which was pretty shocking coming from the boy who hated basically any kind of physical labor.

Well, he had started off confused, now he was just plain worried.

Richie hated school, everyone knew that, but he didn’t actually skip too often. It always got back to his parents and Eddie knew Richie’s father wasn’t too forgiving about such offenses. So, no way Richie was skipping. And he’d seemed fine just the day before… Eddie practically had a built-in radar for knowing when someone was getting sick and Richie hadn’t been. He wasn’t missing because of illness.

Eddie was running out of ideas as to why on earth Richie wasn’t sitting next to him in boring ass Chemistry, cracking stupid jokes about how they must be electrons and protons because they were so attracted to each other. Eddie always rolled his eyes at those stupid jokes, never admitting how they really made his heart race, but now he was found himself longing to just hear the Trashmouth’s infuriating voice.

Who was he even kidding? Richie’s voice wasn’t infuriating… It was probably one of Eddie’s favorite sounds in the whole world. And he missed it. He missed Richie.

Sighing again, Eddie glanced at the classroom door once more before returning to his notes.

After school Wednesday, when Richie had missed school once again, Eddie drove slowly, almost hesitantly, to the Tozier household. He pulled up to the curb and drummed his fingers against his squeaky-clean steering wheel and looked at the house with apprehension.

Eddie hated going to the Tozier’s.

He hated how sweet, kind, and normal Maggie and Wentworth always acted while he was around, when he’d seen for himself all the damaged the couple could do. He’d seen the frequent bruises, the occasional tears, and the more common than anything else fists slamming against walls and doors.

How dare they look Eddie in eye and pretend they were decent, even good, parents? How dare they when Eddie was the one Richie most often turned to whenever his parents told him to ‘fuck off for a bit’?

Biting his lip, Eddie forced himself out of the car and approached the faded blue front door, paint crumbling away from years of being overlooked. Raising his fist and internally scolding himself for his throat attempting to close, Eddie knocked on the door.

You don’t need your inhaler. You fucking know you don’t need your inhaler. You haven’t for years. Stop being a fucking baby, Kaspbrak. He chanted over and over in his head as he looked down at his white Keds and waited.

Shifting from foot to foot, he glanced around, noted the cars parked in the driveway and knocked again.

After a beat, the door was thrown open and revealed a rough looking Maggie Tozier. Richie looked shockingly unlike her; where she was straight blonde, her son was messy and jet black, as her eyes reflected dull, pale blue irises, her son’s were warm and brown and Eddie’s favorite color probably ever.

Most of all, though, she looked hungover.

She leaned against the frame of the front door and squinted into the bright light of the late afternoon, taking a moment to focus on Eddie’s face. “Ed- Eddie! Right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie muttered, eyebrows drawing together. She had known the boy since he was 5… Twelve fucking years ago. The alcohol must have still been screwing with her head. “I was just wondering if Richie was home? I was, um, just worried since I haven’t seen him at school.”

“Richie?” Maggie echoed, her expression blank for a second before she blinked and smiled, “Richard! Richie! My little boy…”

Your what? Eddie wanted to bark, clenching his fist.

He didn’t think a mother got to call her son that anymore once she’d also told him straight to his face that she wished he’d never been born and that she’d had a daughter instead.

Maggie licked her lips and glanced back into the house before looking back at Eddie, “He can’t play right now.”

“We’re 17,” Eddie noted before he could stop himself, eyebrows knitting together, “We don’t really ‘play’ together anymore, but that’s not the point. I just need — I wanted to see him…” He trailed off, cheeks flushing as he heard how his own words sounded.

Too clingy, too needy, too much more than friendly.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed for a moment and Eddie was absolutely sure she had heard it too. He wanted to pull the words back in, rephrase himself, not risk his stupid slip-up causing more trouble for Richie.

When Richie’s mother spoke next, her tone was cold, “He can’t come to the door.”

And then she slammed that pale blue door in Eddie’s face, not giving him time to try and articulate himself again.

Eddie’s stomach twisted painfully and he felt sick as his chest began to ache. It wasn’t the ache of his panic attacks that he’d thought for so long were asthma; no, it was something else entirely. An ache like a wound, like a punch to his lungs.

No, not his lungs… maybe to his heart? An ache like someone had gripped it and was squeezing too tightly.

Numbly, with the world around him appearing only in varying shades of grey, Eddie Kaspbrak walked back to his car and begrudgingly drove away, feeling a little like he was leaving a part of himself behind in the Tozier household.

Thursday I don't care about you

Richie slammed his locker shut so hard on Thursday morning, several heads in the hallway whirled around to give him perplexed looks. His knuckles turned white as he clutched his economics textbook in one hand and balled a fist in his hoodie pocket in the other. Yup, back in the disaster of a hoodie and he couldn’t give a fuck.

Hearing familiar footfalls approaching him hurriedly from behind, Richie squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that Eddie and his spotless Keds would just go away.

Richie couldn’t do it today. Not that Thursday.

He wasn’t so lucky, though, as a small hand grabbed at his arm. He could feel the familiar cold fingers of poor circulation through the holes in the sleeves of the black hoodie, his gray Queen t-shirt doing him no favors to prevent the physical contact.

Richie considered jerking his arm away and walking on, but this was Eddie, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

So, instead, he stopped, waiting for the smaller boy to round on him.

“What the hell, Richie? Where have you—“ Eddie stopped dead, taking in Richie’s appearance in full. He paled and Richie bit down hard on his lip, sighing as he looked off to the side. “Wh-what happened to you?”

Eddie, without thinking, reached up and traced his fingers gently over the bruised skin under Richie’s right eye, down to the split lip on the opposite side. Even though the other boy barely touched him, Richie still cringed away and took a step back while forcing a lazy, bored smile.

“Nothing, Eds. Don’t have a fucking panic attack.” It was a low blow and Richie knew it but he really hadn’t wanted to deal with Eddie in the first place so…

“Nothing?” Eddie barked, incredulously, for once ignoring the nickname that had rolled off Richie’s tongue without a second thought.

Richie shrugged and nodded, only pissing his best friend off more.

“You missing school for days, being unable to even come to the door to talk to me yesterday, and now showing up with a black eye and split lip?! And that’s just nothing?!”

Richie scowled at the linoleum floor before leveling his gaze with Eddie’s, eyes still cold. “Yeah, I fucking guess so.”

“You guess so?!” Eddie howled, turning more heads in the hallway. Richie looked around and shuffled in place for a moment, for once being the one to wish for silence. “Richie, tell me what happened? Was it—“ He cut himself off but his look said it all.

Was it your Dad?

Richie groaned, looking toward the ceiling in exasperation. He just wanted the conversation to be over. He didn’t want to fucking talk about it. He never wanted to talk about it and Eddie was always pushing, picking, asking for more than Richie ever wanted to give.

And maybe any other day, any other Thursday, Richie would have given his best friend what he wanted. But not that fucking Thursday.

Harshly, Richie pushed past the smaller boy, knocking him a bit to the side. “Stop being a fucking drama queen, Eddie. I have class.”

The Trashmouth could feel Eddie’s eyes on him all the way until he rounded to corner but he didn’t look back. He didn’t have to to know what he’d see; Eddie looking confused, angry, and hurt. He didn’t want to see that… and not that he really cared, but he did have class.

Richie told himself that he cared even less about Eddie’s nagging and micromanaging and nitpicking. In fact, he even didn’t care about Eddie Kaspbrak’s opinion. If he did and he did so too much, he knew it would just end in him getting smacked around some more.

He could still hear his mother’s disgusted tone from last night, could hear the echo of his father’s taunts as the man laid into him once again, even more aggressive and angry than ever before.

It started as soon as his Mom had closed to door in Eddie’s face...

Maggie turned on her heel, glaring when she found her son watching the interaction from the kitchen doorway. She narrowed her eyes at him.

Raising her voice in a squeaky attempt to mock Eddie, she said, “‘I just need to see him!’,” She dropped back into her usual harsh tone, “You know your little friend’s a fairy, right?”

Richie did actually. Eddie’d been out to the Losers’ since they were Freshman, still, he didn’t appreciate his mother’s cruel moniker for his best friend. His jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes, “So what if he is?”

“So what?“ Maggie shook her head, crossing the hallway until she was right in Richie’s personal space with a look of utter revulsion. “So what, Richard? So, you shouldn’t be keeping company with the likes of him. You might catch it.”

“Catch it?” Richie echoed, looking at his mother like she’d grown a second head. “You can’t fucking catch queer, Mom. If Eddie is then he was fucking born that way. It’s not a damn disease, just how some people are.”

“You sayin’ it’s how you are?” His mother hissed, glaring at him suspiciously.

Richie shifted under her gaze and knew full well that was the wrong thing to do. He wasn’t gay, he knew he wasn’t. He just happened to like boys about as much as he liked girls… Bisexual was what Bev had told him was the new, modern term for it.

But Maggie Tozier would never understand that. She wouldn’t even try because she didn’t care enough about him to see things from his side. She never had.

Richie knew he had to say something, heart pounding his ears and clenched fists sweating, “No.”

“You sure? Because you seem awfully protective of your little fairy friend.” Maggie asked, eyes still narrowed.

“Because he’s my fucking best friend, Mom. You know that.” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “I’ve known him since I was still eating sand on the playground.”

Maggie stared at him for a long time and even though Richie was now much taller than his mother, he still felt like a scolded child under her withering gaze. He wondered if he’d ever get over that or if it was some instinct in him he’d never be able to kick just because she was the one who’d popped him out into the world.

“Wentworth!”

Richie’s heart dropped and he silently squeezed his eyes shut, cursing his mother. After a moment, he heard heavy footsteps thundering down the steps. If his heart had been pounding before, it now felt like it might beat right out of his chest.

“Goddammit, Maggie, what!? I have a job to do, you know? One I need if you’re going to keep drink us out of house and home!”

Richie opened his eyes as his father stepped into the kitchen, looking between his son and wife with a red, livid face. Well, that was just great, Daddy Dearest was already in a sour mood.

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and kept her scrutiny focused solely on her boy, “Sonia’s boy came by, asking for this dumbass. You know, Went, the fairy? He was practically falling over himself, saying he just needed to see Richard, like he was in love with him or something.”

She spat the last bit like it was poison on her tongue and Richie’s face burned.

Eddie wasn’t in love with anyone, let alone Richie Tozier. He was just a decent human being, a good guy, and a great friend. Something Maggie obviously couldn’t fucking comprehend.

Still, she rented on, her words growing more and more disgusting in Richie’s ears with every syllable, “And you know what I think, Went? I think Richard here might be just as queer as that little sicko.”

He hated her. Fuck the fact that she was his mother, that she’d given him life or fucking whatever. He hated her more than anything in the world in that moment.

Little sicko? Eddie wasn’t sick. He was great. He was the best of humanity and he didn’t deserve judgment from scum the likes of Maggie Tozier.

Before his trash mouth could even voice any of these thoughts, his father was inches from his face, breathing down at him like an angry bull. Richie was ashamed of how his gut still twisted in fear. He was so tired of being afraid in his own fucking house, of his own fucking father.

Wentworth grounded out three short words, “That true, Richard?”

Some spark of either courage or idiocy ignited to life in Richie’s chest and without thinking, he shrugged and said, “Maybe it is.”

His ear rang as his father’s fist came up to clobber him there. Wentworth grabbed the collar of his son’s t-shirt, pulling him roughly forward so that the boy nearly tripped over his awkwardly long legs.

Richie swallowed, staring his father back down.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said,” Richie answered slowly as if trying to explain something to a struggling toddler, “Maybe it is, as in maybe I am just as queer as Eddie.” He emphasized the name, sending his mother a look over his father’s shoulder.

She just glared back.

He looked back at his shaking father with a rebellious smirk on his lips, “Maybe I am gay.”

In the next moment, a fist connected hard with his smirking lips and he tasted blood. It might have been a busted tooth or just a busted lip, no way of knowing in that instant. Richie barely managed to cover his mouth and yelp in pain before his father hit him again, harder, in the eye.

He stumbled back, tripping over the legs of a kitchen table chair and falling back on to his ass. Looking up at his father with not but contempt, even as his eye swelled, he spat blood on to his mother’s favorite tile flooring and grinned. Blood coated his teeth, making him look manic and a little crazy but he didn’t care.

He was so fucking tired of being afraid. It felt good to not care for once.

It was short-lived, as all good things in life seemed to be. Except maybe Eddie Kaspbrak; he seemed pretty long term in the scheme of Richie’s existence.

Wentworth stepped forward in a flash and kicked Richie hard in the side, enough force to knock all the air from the boy’s lungs. Tears stung Richie’s eyes as he coughed and instinctually tried to crawl back, but it was no use. His father’s foot connected again and again and one more time with his ribcage before the man seemed to think he’d learned his lesson.

Leaving their son on the kitchen floor, Maggie and Wentworth went back to whoever the fuck they’d been doing previously as if nothing had happened. As if Maggie had hurtled insult after insult and Went hadn’t nearly broken his own child’s ribs.

Richie deserved it, after all, didn’t he? For being sick, for being a freak, a fairy. For actually giving a damn about another boy; a wonderful, god-sent boy who was one of the few people that made Richie feel like he even mattered at all.

Yeah, he deserved a good smacking around for that.

He was so fucking done with getting smacked around.

It's Friday, I'm in love

Eddie was stubborn. It was a trait so firmly built into his personality that at this point in his life, he’d stopped trying to deny it. He was stubborn, he just was and nothing was going to change that.

Not even Richie goddamn Tozier being a complete asshole to him.

Honestly, Richie was kind of always an asshole, but this was different.

Normally, the Trashmouth took things too far almost accidentally because he simply didn’t have a filter and when called out by his friends, he was as close to apologetic as he would ever be. He even actually said sorry out loud now and then these days, since they were a little older and just slightly more mature.

Normally, Richie didn’t actively try to be an asshole, he just was. Insanely, it was almost endearing to Eddie, something he found himself actually liking Richie even more, not inspire of, but because of.

Though, if Eddie was being completely honest with himself, he knew full well that all of Richie’s flaws and quirks were at the core of why he liked him so much to begin with. Maybe even more than liked him…

Definitely more than liked him.

Friday rolled around and Eddie was more relieved to reach the end of the week than ever before.

Which was ironic since he actually liked school… well, maybe not school but he did like to learn and be educated. It sometimes felt like the only thing he just simply excelled at. He sucked at sports, having no hand-eye coordination, he couldn’t run worth a shit, still prone to panic attacks that showed up as fake asthma, but at least he could get top marks in all his classes, dammit.

But this week had been shit and he was definitely ready for it to be over.

Friday night, Eddie sat alone in his room while he tried to get a leg up on studying for his upcoming Pre-Calculus test in a week and a half. Africa by Toto played throughout the bedroom, probably too loud if his mother was asked but he didn’t really care. The music helped him concentrate, pushed through the muddled mess that was his over-analytical brain to get to the root of things.

He was humming along absentmindedly, nodding his head to the beat, when a tiny plink pulled him out of his mathematic stupor. Looking up from his notes, Eddie glanced around for the source of the noise. Seeing nothing, he reluctantly returned to his work.

Thunk.

Again, that noise, only harsher and louder this time. Eddie stood up, now sure it was coming from his window. Eyebrows knitting together, he slowly crossed his room, waiting for—

Thud.

This time, Eddie saw the rock hit the glass pane and jumped a bit. Goddammit, what dumbass was throwing fucking boulders at his window? It was going to bust if anything heavier got thrown at it.

The second he asked himself that question, he already knew the answer.

Quickly, Eddie rushed over and slid the damn thing open, sticking his head out in the chilly twilight air. Just as he’d known there would be, a disaster of a boy stood near the foundation of his house right underneath his window.

“Hey Eds,” Richie called up, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mind a little chit-chat?”

“Not like this, dipshit,” Eddie called back. He saw Richie’s shoulders slump and quickly added, “But if you get your ass up here, I wouldn’t mind.”

Richie looked back up, moving his neck so quickly Eddie couldn’t help but think about how the idiot had probably just given himself whiplash. He was smiling again and this time it actually made Eddie’s chest burn in that weirdly pleasant way that he both feared and craved.

As Richie began to climb up Sonia’s old trellis that never had flowers on it anymore, Eddie moved back into his room and looked around. Everything was in its place, as always, and Madonna’s Borderline had replaced the Toto. It would have to do since he didn’t exactly have time to change anything up.

He whirled around when he heard Richie clambering in through the window and bit down hard on his lip so as to not laugh when the other boy’s oversized foot caught on the sill, sending him sprawling across Eddie’s bedroom floor.

Giggling lightly, Eddie went to help pull Richie up only to let him fall back to the floor upon hearing his mother’s voice calling from down the hall.

“Eddie Bear? What was that thud? Are you okay?”

The boys stared at each other, wide-eyed, as Eddie pressed a finger to his lips and prayed that for once Richie Tozier could keep his fucking trap closed. Calling back, Eddie knew he sounded a little obvious, “I’m fine, Mommy!”

He cringed as Richie slapped a hand over his own mouth to muffle his laughter. Eddie flipped him off before continuing, “D-dropped a textbook, that’s all. Absolutely nothing else going on in here! I swear!”

Richie gave him a look that clearly said And I’m the one who can’t shut up?

Eddie ignored him and waited for his mother’s response.

“Okay, if you’re sure. You know I’m just in my room if you need me.” Sonia emphasized and Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Yeah, Mom, I know!”

There was the shuffle of footsteps and the creaking of Sonia Kaspbrak’s bedroom door before both boys let out sighs of relief.

Richie finally jumped up to his feet and reach out to pinch Eddie’s cheek, “You’re so damn cute when you try to lie, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” He mumbled, before shoving Richie’s hand away. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned to his best friend as the other boy took a seat on his pristine bed. Raising his eyebrows, he said, “So, you wanted to talk?”

“Chit-chat,” Richie corrected, pointing into nothingness. Eddie rolled his eyes at the completely unnecessary clarification before raising his eyebrows at his friend, gesturing for him to get on with it.

Richie sighed and patted at the thighs of his jeans. Eddie noted he was bouncing one of his legs like he always did when he had too much pent up energy in his veins… so pretty much all the time. Richie never stopped moving, it was just another one of his many quirks.

“I—I’m sor—“ Richie’s voice cracked a little and he cringed, clearing his throat, “I’m such an asshole, aren’t I, Eds?”

Eddie shrugged, leaning back against his bookcase and taking in all of Richie. “I’m pretty used to it.”

Richie nodded, beginning to pick the sleeves of that god awful dark hoodie he always fucking wore.

Eddie groaned and moved forward to swat at his hands, “Stop! That thing’s enough of a disaster without you picking at the holes and making everything worse.”

The music changed again, temporarily drawing both of the boy’s attention. Richie quirked an eyebrow, “The Cure? Thought you hated rock?”

Eddie shrugged, “Some of the shit you play isn’t the worse…”

“Just not quite Cyndi Lauper, though, right?”

“Shut up, Tozier.”

Silence fell between them and after a few minutes of just listening to Friday, I’m in Love, Eddie sighed in annoyance, “Well, are you gonna talk, Trashmouth or—“

“You literally just told me to shut up!”

“When have you ever done what I told you to do?! So, spit it out or go home. I don’t really care either way since you’ve been a grade A dick to me lately…”

Richie groaned, “Yeah, I know I have. I just—“

He stopped and Eddie waited again. After another few seconds passed in silence before the hypochondriac threw his hands up, “Yup, you need to go. This is so fucking dumb. Just go home—“

“I can’t, okay?” Richie snapped, taking Eddie by surprise. A second later he repeated himself, voice quieter, “I can’t.”

Everything easily clicked into place in Eddie’s brain. Of course, Richie couldn’t go home, he thought while looking at the lingering bruise under his friend’s warm brown eye. If he went home, a black eye would probably seem like light punishment.

“Okay,” Was all Eddie said, slowly making his way back across the room to sit beside Richie on the bed.

Swallowing, he moved close enough for their shoulders to brush. An unspoken reminder that he was right there whenever Richie was ready for… whatever he needed to be ready for.

Finally, after much more fiddling on Richie’s part and much more patience on Eddie’s, the former spoke up, “You’re pretty fucking smart, you know that, Eds?”

Eddie didn’t know exactly how to respond. Richie’s compliments always sounded like they were doubling as jokes but this time was different. There was a hesitance and uncertainty that even Eddie wasn’t familiar with from Richie Tozier.

Luckily Richie didn’t wait for the words he didn’t seem able to find, continuing on as he traced over his split lip, “You were right that it was him, my jackass of a father. He smacked me around a bit the other night.”

Eddie cringed and was thankful Richie wasn’t looking at him, as he knew how the boy hated anything that could be seen as pity. “Why would he do that?”

Richie looked off into the bedroom, looking over Eddie’s color-coded math notes still out on his desk, the boy’s up-of-date stereo set up that he wouldn’t upgrade no matter how many times Richie told him to, all the polos and oversized t-shirt hung up the closet nook. Being surrounded by all the Eddie made Richie finally begin to relax, the bouncing of his knee slowing just a little.

The lanky teenage shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, “Probably because I said that I might be gay?”

“You wh-what?!” Eddie exclaimed, jumping up and whirling on his friend, “But you’re — you know — not!”

“Debatable,” Richie countered, lazily.

“No, it’s fucking not!” Eddie said, incredulously.

Richie raised his finger to point at Eddie, “I think I’m a little gay, Eds. I think everyone knows already that I’m a little gay. I mean, yeah, I like chicks but I’m definitely into dick too.”

“That makes you bisexual, asshole. Not gay. I’m—“ Eddie stopped, eyes flickering to his bedroom door as he lowered his voice, thoughts going to his mother just down the hall. “I’m gay.”

“I know you are,” Richie said, eyebrows drawing together as he became suddenly thoughtful. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, Eds.”

Eddie was taken aback, glancing away from his best friend and shifting awkwardly, “Yeah, I — uh — know that, Richie.”

“Well, not everyone does.” The boy scowled at the ground. “Like my stupid fucking parents. They said dumb shit, Eds, and I just—“

“Couldn’t shut the fuck up?” Eddie finished.

Richie looked up at him, smirking, “You know me too well, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to scold him for the nickname, shrugging, “Comes with being friends twelve years, right?”

“Right,” Richie nodded, “Friends.”

There was something almost… bitter in Richie’s tone. No, maybe not bitter but certainly something else, something that felt important for Eddie to distinguish. His palms began to sweat and he swallowed, wiping them on his shorts.

He opened his mouth to try and say anything but nothing came.

Richie had already looked away, anyway…

“My mom called you a fairy, a sicko too, and it just—“ He huffed, forming a fist and biting his shaking knuckle. “I hated her so much right then because you’re not, Eddie! You’re not sick, you’re just you.”

“Really, Richie, your Mom calling me names isn’t worth you getting your ass handed to you by your Dad. I know I’m not sick. Maybe I didn’t always but I do now and you shouldn’t have…” Eddie trailed off, gesturing to his best friend’s battered face.

“The hell I shouldn’t have!” Richie jumped to his feet. “What else could I do? Let her talk about you like that? Like you were dirt? Like something is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know!” Eddie snapped, “Yeah, maybe, you should have just let her, Richie. Then you wouldn’t be hurt! I hate it when you’re—“

He slammed his mouth shut along with his eyes, counting to ten in his head.

Only Richie could get him this angry, this mixed up and scattered. Make him so flustered and worried that he almost said too much, said the words he wouldn’t be able to pull back. And then what would he do?

“Getting yourself hurt for me is fucking dumb.” Eddie finished, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, well, my Dad pretty clearly told me just how fucking dumb I am while he was beating the shit out of me, so…” Richie glowered. His eyes flickered to Eddie’s window. “Maybe I should just—“

“Don’t even think about it, Tozier. You wanted to talk — sorry, chit-chat — so you’re not leaving until we fucking chit chat, asshole.” Eddie snapped, stepping forward to shove a finger into Richie’s chest, “You didn’t climb through my window to complain about your shitty parents and you didn’t come to tell me you’re bi or whatever, so stop bitching and just say what you came to say!”

“I don’t know what that is!” Richie argued, his voice strained. “Okay? I don’t know! All I know is that I didn’t fucking want to go back to them and you,” He paused, faltered, and then pressed on, “You’re the first person I thought about going to.”

Eddie’s arms dropped to his sides as he looked up at Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier, the boy who was never serious, who was never ever genuine, and still felt his breath catch in his throat. Not in a bad way like his panic attacks or asthma either but in a completely different way.

It made his lungs burn and for the first time, Eddie welcomed the feeling.

“You’re always the first person I think about, Eds,” Richie muttered, looking off the side and shaking his head, “It’s really fucking annoying, actually. I can barely pay attention to shit half the time anyway and then there’s always you just fucking up my focus even more. I fucking hate it, Eds.”

“D-don’t call me that, you know I hate it.”

The flustered words slipped out before Eddie could stop them and he instantly hated himself for them. Here, Richie was saying about the closest he’d ever say to what Eddie really wanted to hear and Eddie was complaining about a stupid goddamn nickname, again?

“I don’t think you do,” Richie said after a minute, looking back into Eddie’s dark eyes. “Just like I don’t actually hate thinking about you all the time, like how I don’t really hate it at all.”

Eddie said nothing for a long time before slowly nodding, “Maybe.”

Then he licked his lips and forced out the words he knew he owed Richie at this point. “I think about you all the time, too, just so you know. Worry about you, too. Way more than I probably should, considering you’re an asshole who spends most of his time practically begging for trouble. And I hate it, too, only I don’t really either.”

Richie stared at him and Eddie thought it was probably the longest time he’d seen the boy go without moving. Shuffling, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut again and finally uttered the words he knew he probably should have said a long time ago.

“I like you, Richie.” He breathed out, like if he said it too loud everything in his world would crumble and fall apart.

It was quiet for so long that Eddie was forced to peek his eyes open, only to find Richie staring at him just like before. His heart sank and he felt like falling through the floor, through the Earth, and just disappearing for the rest of his goddamn life.

“You know what? Just— just forget it. I didn’t mean—“

Suddenly split lips were crashing against his and awkward, inexperienced limps were pulling him closer and it couldn’t have felt more right because nothing in all of Eddie’s life could even attempt to compare to this.

Instinctually, his own arms came up to snake around Richie’s neck to make their ridiculous height difference a bit less imposing. Maybe Richie felt the same way, maybe he didn’t but if this moment in time was all Eddie ever got of all the things he’d never dared to want, he thought maybe he’d be okay with that. He thought maybe he could live through that.

As quickly as the kiss had begun, it was over.

However, Richie didn’t move away. He remained exactly as close to Eddie as he’d been for the short-lived lip lock, his eyes still sealed shut. His breath was warm and smelled like dime store mints and nicotine, which was exactly what he had tasted like.

Eddie swallowed hard, only then realizing just how out of breath he was. Sounding a bit strangled, he began to panic once again, “It—it’s okay, you know if you don’t feel the same way. If this was just whatever this was then that’s okay.”

Richie’s finally opened his eyes and gave Eddie an incredulous look, “You fucking kidding me, Eds? You’re supposed to be the smart one! You think I’d make a move as fucking bold as kissing you if I didn’t fucking like you, too?!”

Eddie shrugged, face turning pink, “I don’t know! Everything’s a joke to you, so I thought maybe—“

“You’re not a joke to me,” Richie argued firmly. “You’re not.”

Numbly, the other boy nodded, “Yeah, I know that now. I’m sorry, I just never thought you could ever like me the way I like you.”

“Honestly, Eds?” Richie muttered, biting his lip like he was nervous. A nervous Richie Tozier became Eddie’s new favorite thing in that moment. “I think I more than like you, you know what I’m saying?”

Eddie nodded again, “Yeah, I think I more than like you, too.”

Richie smiled as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulder and he nodded enthusiastically. “Well, that’s fucking great! Now, we can like make-out, like, all the time!”

“Oh my god,” Eddie muttered, shoving the other boy away, “Why do I even like you?”

“More than like me, Eds. You more than like—!”

This time it was Richie who was silenced with a kiss.

He definitely didn’t hate it.

It’s Friday, I’m in love.

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spnsimpleman · 7 years ago

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The Unknowns: Ten

This is a continuation for The Unknowns. Which was a one shot and is now a long ass Prologue. Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven. Part Eight. Part Nine.

Dean x Psychic!reader

Teaser/Summary: An AU sparked from a songfic challenge, The Unknowns is based on Season One Episode Nine, Dean met reader in Lawrence as a child and they created an unbreakable bond. At the end of The Unknowns, reader decided to stick with her boys because she felt something coming but she holds secrets; one she holds close to her heart and a few that she doesn’t even really know yet.

Word count: 3521

Lines borrowed from season one episode nineteen, “Provenance” in Bold.

Sam and I sat at another bar table, this one a lot cleaner than the last. We were scanning through a few newspapers as I picked at the last of my fries. A band was setting up on the stage in the back and I was a little excited to hear some live music instead of a scratchy jukebox.

I was feeling a lot better than I had in days, maybe weeks and tonight felt like it was going to be a good night.

I glanced up from the newspaper and spotted Dean leaning over the pool table pretending to have trouble with a shot he had made a thousand times without trying.

“Check this out.” Sam leaned over and handed me the paper then slid the journal in between us. “The Telesca’s of New Paltz, New York both found dead in their home. Throats slit, no prints or weapons, house locked up tight.” Then he tapped the journal, “exactly like three other murders in upstate New York.”

I glanced back and forth between the newsprint and John’s meticulous handwriting, “so your dad was waiting for another lead or he thought it was taken care of. Does it say if he ever looked into it any further?”

“No, just the notes on all the murders and his suspicions that it was paranormal.”

Dean was suddenly at my side and his hand landed on my hip. “Up for a little game of pool?”

I smirked at him, “Sam found a case.”

Dean glanced at Sam and frowned, “but I need you to teach these idiots a lesson.” I hiked my brow up and he sighed looking at Sam, “alright, whaddaya got?”

Sam gave him a rundown and Dean glanced back toward the pool table and held up one finger. He took a sip from my beer waiting for Sam to finish. “Alright, I’m with you, it’s worth checking out. We can’t pick this up until first thing, right?”

Sam and I looked over to the pool tables where the three college age guys were laughing looking our way. Sam sighed, “yeah.”

Dean tossed his keys to Sam and pulled me from my stool, “don't wait up, Sammy. We’re gonna pull in this week’s rent.”

“We don't pay rent,” Sam huffed but was already stacking the newspapers.

“You know what I mean.”

I rolled my eyes at Dean’s impatience to get over to the pool table and leaned toward Sam, “are you sure? I could get him to leave.”

He smiled, “yeah. I'm good. I'll check some things out on my end and we can start fresh in the morning.”

Dean grinned, “see? Come on, I can't wait to see the looks on these asshats when we dust ‘em.”

I pushed his chest, “go on, I'll be right over.”

Dean walked away and I met Sam’s gaze, “seriously, if you want some company I’ll do this fast and we can go.”

Sam shook his head and chuckled, “I'll be fine. Besides, I think you should help him let off some steam. He’s been increasingly annoying recently.”

“Must you be so crude?” He grinned like a fool and I got a hint of what was so funny and jabbed my finger toward him, “not funny. We do not bring up that case! I almost killed you two and I swear to God if you ever slip him Viagra or any variant of it ever again, I will smash your balls. Got it?”

Sam pulled his lips into between his teeth desperately trying to contain himself but still couldn't keep the smile trapped. “I will not bring up the case that shall not be named and no more prank wars.” I narrowed my eyes at him and he chuckled, raising his hands in surrender, “I swear. Honestly, never.”

I kept my finger pointed at him for good measure, “goodnight, Samuel.”

He nodded with that smile teasing at the corner of his mouth, “night, Y/n.”

The next morning, I carefully maneuvered out of the car, my skirt a little tighter than I remembered, and straightened my suit jacket. “Rich people, man. Can’t let that expensive crap sit too long.”

Dean’s hands smoothed down my hips and Sam hissed, “dude!”

I glanced at Dean and admonished him with the poshest accent I could, “I’d thank you to keep your hands to yourself, sir. A lady is not to be touched in such a way in public. For shame.” I grinned as the soreness in my legs reminding me that I was no lady, at least not all the time.

Dean and I were still riding the wave from last night’s high. From the pool table where we cleaned up to the hour we spent drinking beer, listening to the live band, and dancing together thoroughly enjoying the rare moments between the hunt where we were just us; two young lovers enjoying the night out. I still felt the beats from the drummer, the pulse from the loud speakers blaring the guitars and voices of the cover band all the way out into the parking lot while we swayed close together on the makeshift dance floor and when we spilled out into the cool night. It had been a great night.

Dean wiggled his brows then turned to Sam, “we need to find more rich people cases.”

Sam rolled his eyes and picked up his pace. I caught up with him and was lucky I didn’t fall on my face. “Damn, I haven’t worn heels in way too long.” Dean grinned at me and I had to shake the memories from last night off and focus, “okay, remember we work for Connors Limited.”

“We’re just looking around.” Dean shrugged and Sam’s annoyance level was almost funny.

I gave Dean a look to settle, “hoighty toighty means buku security so please keep the sarcasm to a minimum or maybe just pretend you’re mute. Don’t be offended, it’s just you are a tad prejudiced toward the wealthier folk.”

“I am n…”

“You called them wasps in the car.”

“They are.”

Sam and I glanced at each other and I wished I had made some kind of bet. I walked ahead and they followed me inside.

The price tags at places like this always amazed me especially with the items I couldn’t understand how any person could possibly want in their home. Some of the people around me felt the same and yet they had to have it because someone else was eyeing it. It reminded me far too much of animals marking their territory and proving dominance. As much as I disproved of Dean judging an entire group of people simply by his associations in the past, I couldn't defend this group too much. Except for one woman who seemed above it all, only spending time in front of pieces that truly interested her.

The collective energy around me shifted and I looked up from a remarkably awful clock and scanned the area. A man with a very dignified bearing was heading straight for Dean and Sam. “Shit.” I made my way toward them without drawing more attention.

“We’re there, Chuckles. Just need to take another look.”

I rushed the last few steps and had to press my hands into their backs to keep from toppling over. I plastered the best smile I could and reached a hand forward. “I’m sorry, excuse my savant.”

The man shook my hand and Dean turned toward a passing waiter. Sam was clearly still reeling from Dean’s response and I looked at him with a glance at Dean hoping he understood the signal to stay with his brother. Sam smiled at the man then followed Dean.

The man, probably manager or owner, watched them, his eyes narrowing, “they are a little rough around the edges but they're brilliant. The taller one is a genius, his knowledge is just off the charts and his ability to negotiate, well, I shouldn’t say that to you. The other may be more awkward socially, I’m still working on that but his eye for art rivals the greats, I mean he spotted a fake without ever knowing a thing about the painting.”

The man was getting bored with me but he did believe my story. I hoped it was enough to give us time. “Keep an eye,” he glanced in the direction the boys went, “and a tight leash on your… savants.” I wanted to smack the smile off his face but I simply responded in kind with far better acting.

I walked away but watched him from the corner of my eye. He went straight toward an ornate desk against a back wall. He was going to look up whatever the boys told him. We were out of time. I glanced around but couldn’t see them. “Damnit, I knew they should’ve just bought new clothes.”

Dean parked the car and headed for the motel office. Sam was looking at something on his phone and I pulled out my own. I really wanted to text Pamela and ask about Jess but knew it wasn't a good idea. It was bad enough I kept trying not to think about her around Dean but after I saw the way Sam looked at Sarah, I couldn't get Jess out of my head.

The car was stifling. I climbed out and stretched my arms over my head breathing deeply then bending down low. I looked at the heels on my feet and scowled.

Dean whistled and I looked up. He walked toward me and slipped his hand into my jacket pocket with a wink. It wasn't hard to figure out what he deposited there and I wasn't complaining but I had other things on my mind.

I pulled off the offending shoes as Dean grabbed our bag from the trunk that Sam must've opened. I tip toed over the asphalt and almost bumped into the boys standing just inside the door. “What?”

Dean and Sam finally moved into the room and I got the full view of the Disco Fever that had stopped them, not the most ridiculous we had seen, but it definitely took points for the mirror ball. I dropped the heels, shut the door, and shuffled over to a white chair then sat and rubbed my feet. Sam and Dean’s normal back and forth was background noise to my own inner struggle about Jess.

“In other words, you want me to use her.”

“Sometimes you gotta take one for the team.”

My stomach twisted and I turned the chair around. They were each standing in front of a bed with their bags in front of them. “You could just ask her on a date and we’ll go to the same place just in case you need an out or something.”

Dean’s head snapped in my direction, “what?”

“Why not?”

Dean glanced at Sam and his confusion deepened, “oh, umm.”

“Oh so, Sam can take one for the team but you can't back him up?”

“Sure, why not.” His confusion was apparent enough for Sam to glance between us and wonder what was going on.

I strode over to Dean, took the phone and gave it to Sam. “You got this. It's just a friendly dinner. Nothing to it… just friends.” I tried not to wince from the sound of my fumbling words or Sam’s concern. I smiled then rushed to the door, “just tell me the time.”

“Where are you going?”

I dug the second key out of my pocket as I left the room and left Dean to answer Sam. I opened the next door and shut it with a firm push. It was probably too much but I was safely behind the door. Safely away from prying eyes and concerned glances.

I walked over to the bed and collapsed. I could hear Jessica in my head, her telling me that everything would be okay, that I shouldn’t worry, but if there was one thing Sam wouldn’t forgive me for, it would be letting him unknowingly cheat on her. Saving her wouldn't cover me for that indiscretion.

I rushed up the stairs to the second-floor apartment, the stench of burnt cloth and hair already in my nose. I saw the door from my dream and rushed over with my lock picks already in my hands. I quickly unlocked it and slipped inside.

The apartment was dark and quiet but I could already feel it; the twist in my stomach, the stab in my chest, the heat and the thin air. I crept through the apartment not daring to raise my voice as I followed the past movements of an energy I'd known my whole life.

I made it to a bedroom, Sam’s room, his energy pulsed around me and I missed him even more. My attention veered to the water running in an adjoined bathroom.

The shadow wasn’t inside the apartment but it was still too close. I shoved my hand into my jacket pocket and grasped the small box reassuring myself that it was still there.

I pushed the bathroom door open and Jess opened her mouth to scream but I covered it before she could make a noise. “Listen to me very carefully. My name is Y/n.” She nodded, she knew me. “Good, that will make this a lot easier. I hate to tell you this but tonight is the night you die.”

The bed shifted beside me and Dean’s warmth chased the memory away. I locked it in the vault in the back of my mind. His hand slipped under my shirt and splayed on my lower back, “what was that?”

“Nothing,” I spoke into the pillow. It was childish and I felt like an idiot but I had never seen Sam look at any woman on the road the way he had looked at Sarah when we left. Maybe I was being childish but I felt his guilt because she intrigued him. It killed me.

“Really?”

I turned enough to see his face, “I thought we could use a date night.”

His brow rose and he smirked, “Sam’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

“You and I can go grab something we’d actually enjoy eating because you know Sam will take her somewhere fancy and blow the money we just made. Let them have their fancy dinner.”

“Who says I don't like fancy?”

He laid down beside me, “wha’ kind of fancy would you like?” His wannabe French accent wasn't exactly spot on but that made it funnier than it should've been. He pulled me against him, “do you really wan’ to go to some stuffy place because I will pull ou’ all ze stops and zen spend every min’net zinking abou’ how much I wan’ to peel your fancy dress off.” His terrible quasi-French accent fell away, “you need a fancy dress, right? So we'd have to go shopping for one and then…” I kissed him cutting off his rambling story.

I gazed into his eyes, his pride from his accomplishment flowing through me. “Okay, I'll butt out of Sam’s date. But only if I get to see you in that fancy suit you were going to wear.”

He grinned, “oh, I've got a fancy suit for you.”

Dean and I were laying on the second bed in Sam’s room watching an old black and white movie when Sam finally came back from his date.

“I knocked on your door.” He walked to the table and set down a file barely looking at us.

I sat up and scooted back against the headboard, “I figured this would be easier and you wouldn't be worried about... interrupting something.” I gave him a soft smile to battle the voice in my head, and I didn't want any chance of you being alone with her had you brought her back.

He sat down and opened the file folder, lifting four or five pages. “The provenances for the painting.”

Dean moved toward the end of the bed, “and?”

I stared at the television feigning non-interest to his time spent in Sarah’s company.

“And nothing, that's it. I left.”

“You didn't have to con her or…”

“Dean, get your mind out of the gutter.”

I felt terrible but I was relieved even if I felt what he wasn't saying.

“You know we could hang around even I can see you’re into her.”

“Dean,” I growled.

They both twisted toward me, staring with their confusion written all over their face, Sam once again emanating concern. But then Dean tilted his head as something came to him, “right… that.”

Sam glanced at Dean, “what?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking as his surprise darkened, “he's just realizing what an ass he’s been for pushing you.”

Dean looked down, “yeah, just… sorry, Sam.”

“Wow. I… okay, you guys are taking the silent conversation to a whole new level.”

Dean’s brow wiggled, “you have no idea. We can talk a little without speaking a word when one of us has really heightened emotions and I can feel her…” Dean paused and glanced at me, “ah…”

Heat crept up my neck and I snapped, “shut up now, please.”

Sam glanced between us with his brow hiked up, “wow, yeah. Please stop.”

Dean’s grin stretched, “it’s been weird ever since that reaper case.”

Sam looked down at the papers in his hand, “anyway, I think I've got something here.”

Dean walked over and compared the names of owners with the names in John's journal as I sat staring down at the bed afraid that I somehow gave away something else.

Could Dean really have figured it out? Surprise that bloomed into recognition. He hadn't asked about the four thing again but… could he possibly have somehow connected the dots? Did he hear me thinking of Jess? If he got enough information then he would have to lie to his brother. I really didn’t want that. Having one lie was too much.

“Y/n?”

I looked up, “hmm?”

“Are you coming or what?”

“Where?”

“We’re going to destroy the painting before it can be sold.”

I yawned before I could even think about it, “no thanks, you guys can do the b and e without me.”

Sam turned his concerned gaze on me, “hey, I'm okay. Really.”

“I know. Destruction of property just isn’t my thing and honestly, I'm exhausted.”

Dean nodded for Sam to go ahead then walked over to me, “you do realize you're in Sam’s room, right?”

I scooted to the end of the bed staring at the door where Sam had just disappeared.

“Hey, what's going on in that pretty head of yours? You've got nothing to worry about, okay?” I was drawn into his eyes as his calming warmth moved through me. He felt my worry or just read it on my face, I wondered which was true but too afraid to ask. “The demon doesn't know where we are. We’re safe.” He hugged me, “you sure you want to stay behind?”

I closed my eyes as I squeezed him, relief crashing, “yeah. I'm just tired. Everything’s just… overworked.”

“Mmm.” He kissed me then pulled back, his gaze searching but whatever question I felt stirring, he decided against it. “I’ll find you in my bed tonight? I promise no more funny business. Just rest.”

I touched his face. “You know I sleep better with you around.”

“Remember that.” He grinned and gave me a final kiss before running out the door and closing it behind him.

The demon. He thought I was thinking of the demon. Christ, that was too close.

I turned off the television and padded out of the room and into the neighboring one. Once inside, the buzz made me freeze then it went off again and I recognized it. My phone on the small nightstand in between the two beds had danced then fell silent.

I laid down on the bed and grabbed my phone, my eyes already heavy but I glanced at the message. The alert told me two text messages from Pamela. I opened it and read them.

All good here. Hope the same for you.

I miss you.

It wasn't Pamela who had texted and as much as Jess relieved an ache I was only recently realizing I had, it hurt. I hit reply and held back the tears by biting my tongue. Trying my best. My thumb hovered over the send button but then I deleted it and tried again. Getting there. Miss you too. More than I thought possible.

I hit send and a few tears escaped. I deleted the two messages and my reply then put the phone back on the nightstand. I didn't need any more questions and I didn't think I'd be able to talk about the odd messages with Dean without giving something away.

I closed my eyes, my palm rubbing over the small scar on my forearm, and let the tears fall. It was the only relief I could afford right now.

Eleven

@duchessofwinchester , @jodyri , @jencharlan , @deanssweetheart23 @torn-and-frayed , @chrisatplay , @mogaruke , @captainemwinchester , @ashrod98 , @mrswhozeewhatsis , @purgatoan , @caitsymichelle13 , @escabell , @thealyana

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spnsimpleman · 7 years ago

Text

The Unknowns: Six

This is a continuation for The Unknowns. Which was a one shot and is now a long ass Prologue. Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five.

Dean x Psychic!reader

Word count: 4839

Lines borrowed from season one episode sixteen, “Shadow” in Bold.

I walked around the living room and wondered what was taking the boys so long. Sam said it wouldn’t take much time to get the uniforms but I had been able to dig into Meredith’s past enough for a family member alias and talked my way into her apartment five minutes ago. At least a good thirty minutes of work. So much for costumes making it work. I should’ve made a bet.

This had always been one of the harder parts of hunting for me. The boys could search a person’s life for clues and most times stay objective, detached enough to do the job while still respecting the dead they’re trying to give a little justice. I walked through the shell of this woman’s life and picked up more than a fair share of who she was. The victims were always more real to me in a sense like I had known them, interacted with them, and sometimes cared for them.

Dean hadn’t understood it at first. He couldn’t understand why I couldn’t shake them off like other impressions but going through a place that someone had made their home left so many fingerprints of who they are, it’s impossible not to get to know them. Sometimes I felt like I had known them forever mainly because they felt like someone I had either known or like someone I would want to.

Meredith was orderly without being a clean freak. Her desk was neat but inside the drawers, things were haphazard. Her living room was nicely furnished but on a budget and she still kept CDs and cassette tapes with a stereo that played both instead of going completely digital. There were pops of color and decor that stuck out, things that caught her eye and she bought on a whim just because it made her day a little brighter.

She was happy here but there was a recent underlying loneliness that pervaded the rooms, something she was hopeful might change hence the surface cleaning she had done recently. She had met someone and the hope of something new, an exciting change in the air that still hung around.

“Miss Rodgers?” The landlady called from the front of the apartment.

“Yes?” I left the bedroom and tried to leave Meredith there where her hope for the future still dominant.

“These men are from the alarm company. They’re just going to check into things if you don’t mind.”

I walked into the living room and eyed them. Okay, the uniforms were a nice touch, Dean didn’t look half bad in his. I met dean’s gaze and scowled, “your alarms are shit.”

The surprise on Dean’s face was priceless then his pulse of excitement fluttered in my stomach. He glanced at the landlady, she answered with a raised brow and a smile. “This is Meredith’s sister.”

“We’re sorry for your loss.” Sam gave me the client treatment he was so damn good at because he meant it.

“We’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again, mam.” Dean sauntered toward me and stuck out his hand, “I’m Dean.”

“Save it for someone who cares,” I snapped and pivoted away then glanced over my shoulder, “by the way, your name’s written on your chest, asshat.” I walked out of the room and shut the bedroom door to cover the laughter I was afraid I couldn’t hold in. Dean’s arousal spiked through me and I bit my lip.

I listened at the door while they talked with her then she finally took her leave with a word of warning. “You boys do your business and leave her alone. She’s suffered enough, the poor thing.”

Once the front door shut, I stepped out and Dean was already halfway to me. “What took you guys so…” Dean’s mouth cut me off.

“Dude! Crime scene.”

Dean pulled away and I had to force myself not to follow. “That had to happen. I’m working, don’t distract me.”

I watched him walk over to the toolbox and squat down to pull out a piece of equipment. He glanced over his shoulder and raised his brow. I grinned then walked over to Sam. “Just centering myself.” Dean choked then cleared his throat.

Sam looked up from his emf meter slightly annoyed, “what did you find?”

“I stayed away from the carpet but everywhere else is untouched. Zero trace except for there, like it just apparated out of nowhere and tore her apart. I didn’t want to go any closer to it without you guys. It’s heavy, dark. Whatever this thing is it’s not in our normal wheelhouse.” I looked down at the carpet and Dean sidled up next to me and tilted his head.

“So it’s probably a spirit.”

Dean’s interest spiked and I started to notice a pattern when Dean asked for masking tape. We split up until Sam found some in the kitchen and Dean got to work.

I knelt down and brushed my hand from one spot to the next then had to back away. Her death may have been relatively fast but it wasn’t fast enough.

Sam’s hand touched my back and I gave him an appreciative smile. Dean was almost finished when Sam finally asked the question burning a hole in his head. “Did you get something?”

I stared at the carpet as Dean connected his last dot. “I’ve never felt anything like this, like a reaper but different… no rules or class type different. This thing is ancient and dark.”

Dean stood up and we took in the symbol he created that didn’t give us anything but a new clue to follow.

Sam and I walked into the loud bar and sat down at the first open table. He opened John’s journal and pulled out the newspapers clippings we gathered at the library. Sam glanced over at Dean leaning on the bar. “I still don’t know how he does that with you right here.”

I looked at Dean, his easy smile and the confidence in his stance. “He’s harmless besides he really can get people to talk. Okay, mainly women but you have to admit he has a pretty face.” Sam chuckled and shook his head. “I find it interesting to watch him work.”

“He’s flirting.”

“But he does it so well.” I grinned feeling his eye roll, “besides I flirt for cases. Remember that time when I had to get us into that museum…”

He turned to me, “are you serious? You mean the case where Dean decked the dude because he tried pulling you into an artifacts room.”

“Different museum. That was the first time I used my feminine wiles to get further in the case. Not telling Dean ahead of time was a bad choice.”

Sam laughed, “you two are so weird.”

I leaned into him, “we’re all a little weird, Sammy.”

“What are you two giggling like school girls for?” Dean strutted toward the table.

“Hilarious.”

“Hi, lover,” I smirked as Dean leaned down and kissed me.

“Won’t the bartender you were flirting with be offended that you’re over here kissing someone?”

Dean dragged the stool on the other side of the table over toward me and sat down grinning at Sam, “nope. I was getting her number for you. She thinks you’re cute, by the way.”

Sam threw a glance at the bartender then dropped his head and began to ramble about the small amount of information we found on the one other victim besides Meredith. There were no dots to connect except for the cause of death.

Dean’s hand had started at my knee and began inching up my leg. I think he was listening but it was impossible to tell with the storm he was creating.

The flare of recognition then confusion spiked through the haze of sexual energy before I noticed it on Sam’s face. He got up and walked across the room. Dean watched him then looked at me in question. I shrugged, “I think he knows someone.”

Dean twisted in his seat to see who Sam was stalking toward. “Think we should check it out?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Because I’m bored and when was the last time Sam did that?”

“You’re always bored.” I grinned and he turned back to me then leaned toward me.

“Not always.” Butterflies burst in my stomach as he trailed his fingers down my neck and over my collarbone.

“You have been extremely horny recently.”

“A new lease on life can do that to a man especially if he’s got a beautiful, strong woman teasing him all the time.”

“I am not a tease,” I smirked and slid my hand up his leg.

His eyes widened, “I’d call that teasing.”

I grabbed his jacket and yanked him to me so we were nose to nose. I glanced down at his mouth then met his gaze again, delighting in his dilating pupils. “That, my friend, is called foreplay. It’s only a tease if I don’t follow through.”

He closed his eyes and waited. I released him then got off my seat. “Oh look, Sam met a friend.” I started across the room and glanced over my shoulder to see the smirk stretch into a smile as he jumped off his stool and strode toward me with a purpose that heated my skin.

Dean caught up with me, grabbing my ass as I stopped beside Sam, bumping into him. I apologized before looking at the blonde woman in front of him. A muffled scream ripped through my head. I grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed while forcing a smile.

“This is my best friend Y/n and my brother Dean.”

“This is Dean?”

I tried to keep up with the conversation but my focus was on the woman in front of me or really on what she wasn’t saying. That scream definitely came from her and there were conflicting emotions and energies that didn’t make sense. Anger, abandonment, rage, loneliness, and darkness, but there was some kind of disconnect that broke them apart yet they were tied together.

Dean tugged my hand and I glanced his way. He tilted his head toward the bar and pulled me with him. I waved at the woman then followed Dean’s lead.

“Did you hear that? I treat him like luggage? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I didn��t lock him in the trunk. What the fuck, I don’t even know her. I should put him in the trunk, I just have to bend those long ass legs and he’d fit. Oh, he’d fit.” The bartender put a drink in front of him and he ordered another for me then squeezed my hand. “You okay?”

I looked up still confused but more comfortable with the distance. “Something’s weird with her.”

“Leave it to Sam to find a crazy one.”

“I think it’s deeper than that but I don’t understand it.” Dean and I glanced back and Sam had his phone out. “Sam’s not too sure about something either.”

Dean knocked back his shot and I reached for mine glancing back at Sam with a hint of something I always took as a warning. By the pricking of my thumbs. Pamela’s voice whispered a reminder in my head, instincts keep you alive, honey. Never shake away a guiding hand.

I caught Sam’s glance and he headed for the table. I knocked back the shot and squeezed Dean’s hand. “Settle the tab. We’ll meet you at the door.”

Another flare of arousal but I ignored it. We definitely needed our own room tonight. Sam already had everything back in the journal and was closing it when I stopped next to him. “Who was that?”

He glanced over my shoulder toward the blonde woman then indicated the door. We started for it and he leaned toward me, “I don’t know but it’s… weird.”

I looked up at him, “what do you mean?”

“I met her on the side of the road when I left you guys weeks ago and we just happen to bump into each other again? It’s just weird. It just feels…”

“Oh, Something’s definitely off about her but I don’t know what it is.” We went outside and waited just to the side of the door. “Same place Meredith worked. Even without what I felt.”

“Right?” Sam sighed, “I thought I’d have to talk you guys into this.”

“Into what?”

Dean walked out and moved straight for us. “Who the hell was that, luggage? That’s what she said, right? You bitching about me…”

I pressed my hand to the middle of his chest and he looked down at me. “Dean.”

“Look, I’m sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that’s not important, just listen…”

“Well, is there any truth to what she’s saying? Because you know that shit just ends up blowing up in our faces…”

“No, of course not. Now, would you listen?”

Dean glanced down at me before looking at his brother, “go on.”

“I could be wrong, I’m just sayin’ that there’s something about this girl that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Dean grinned and I elbowed him before he could say a word. “I don’t know what’s up with her but I get like… a caged feeling if that makes any sense.”

Dean glanced at me and Sam started walking away from the bar. We caught up with him and he looked at me, “do me a favor. Check and see if there’s really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can’t dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith’s floor.”

I grabbed his arm, “I don’t like it.”

He stopped, “I don’t have a choice. If there is something going on here that she’s involved in?”

“Y/n and I are great at research. You go watch your crazy girlfriend.”

Sam gave him a disapproving look and I squeezed Sam’s arm. “Be careful. I don’t like what I felt from her and I hate that I don’t know what it means.”

Sam nodded, “you and me both.” He handed me John’s journal and held out his hand for the car keys. Dean handed them over wiggling his eyebrows.

I watched Sam then tugged Dean’s arm and we headed down the sidewalk toward the motel.

Dean wrapped his arm around my back until his hand rested on my hip then dipped into my jeans. “We’re going to have the room to ourselves for what, an hour? Maybe more?”

“And we have research to do.”

“How long could it possibly take to look up some chick and an old symbol?”

I thought it over and asked the real question, “you mean how long will it take if we have sex first or after?”

“You wouldn’t.”

I grinned staring toward the motel enjoying the anticipation. “It’s amazing how fast you work when there’s something so…”

“Devil woman.” But his excitement stroked my own and I had to tamp down the rising rebel. I was not going to let our out of control sex drives make Sam feel like he was doing all the work.

“I was going to say tempting but whatever helps you get the job done.”

He maneuvered behind me then gripped my hips as we awkwardly continued to walk with his mouth against my neck. “I always get the job done.”

“You’ve admitted sometimes it’s better when I beg.”

He hissed, “fuck,” then lightly bit my neck.

“We’ll get there if you can find out what that symbol is.”

“And you dig up crazytown?”

“Yup.”

He whipped around me, grabbed my hand, and hustled through the parking lot. I was throbbing and a full on ache had already started but I couldn’t stop the laughter. It was a kneejerk reaction and Dean knew it.

He opened the door, yanked me inside, and pushed me against the door simultaneously shutting it and pinning me in place.

He kissed my neck then hovered his mouth in front of mine. His tongue swiped out in a very deliberate move over his bottom lip then he smirked at my uncontrollable moan. He leaned in achingly slow and moved his head to the side bringing his lips flush against my ear, “forty-five tops until you crack.”

My shuttering inhale may have been a reaction but I arched my back for more contact with his chest then snaked my hand in between us brushing by his jeans zipper. “I bet I can confirm Meg Masters in thirty minutes.”

He sucked in a breath, “what do I have to do again?”

I gripped his hips and yanked him against me. “Symbol. Meaning and origin, if possible.”

He dropped his head on my shoulder and groaned. “You’re going to have to push me away.”

I slipped my hands under his shirt then skimmed around the top of jeans to his stomach before sliding up to his chest. He lifted his head and stared at me with an intensity that matched the energy dancing inside me. I bit my lip as my gaze landed on his mouth then pressed my lips to his far too gently to ease any of the aches throbbing between us. I pulled back, “just a taste to tide you over.” His eyes flashed and I almost lost my own resolve.

“Symbol.” He whispered, his voice husky.

“Crazytown. The Journal’s in the secret pocket of my jacket.” He slipped his hand inside my jacket brushing against my breast and I closed my eyes reminding myself we had a job to do first, that Sam was depending on us. Dean’s pride rushed through me and the journal left its spot.

I pushed him away and he turned, striding over to the bed as I went straight to the table. I sat down and my jeans pressed against my bundle of nerves. Even if I could stifle my moan, Dean already felt the echo.

“Oh, come on, that’s cheating.”

I opened the laptop and powered it on, focusing on what I needed to find immediately. Anticipation was amazing but now I was bordering on torture. The next thirty minutes would be impossible.

Dean was already calling someone in John’s journal and the search engine finally opened. How long could it possibly take?

Twenty minutes later, I was wet and every movement was a torturous tease. I had called Pamela hoping she’d be able to give me answers about what I felt from Meg and for a distraction but I had to leave a message. Every time I’d get a little clarity, a shift in my seat or a flare from Dean brought me right back. I’d just about given up on my whole plan when the search finally yielded results.

I jumped up from my seat and he stood from the bed. He dropped the journal on the floor and we snapped, slamming together like runaway trains. His hands were everywhere and mine were seeking to rid him of his clothes but then sense magically reappeared and hit the breaks.

I pressed my forehead to his, “wait.” We were panting, our shirts on the floor, his belt was undone and my jeans were unbuttoned. “Sam first.” He chuckled and I shook my head, “not done until Sam has the infor…” my breath hitched as he shoved his hand into my pants and cupped the ache throbbing between my legs.

I growled, “fucking hell, not done. I’ve made it this long I can damn well make it three more minutes.” I dragged him over to the bed, grabbed the notebook he was writing in, then yanked him over to my chair and shoved him onto it.

I picked up my phone, hit Sam’s speed dial, and pressed it into Dean’s hand. He stared at the phone and I straddled his lap with a single grind for that cheap trick.

“I’m not going to be able to thi…” he cleared this throat, “let me guess you’re lurking outside of crazytown’s apartment, aren’t you? Meg. Who else would I be talking about?”

I rolled my hips and he clenched his teeth. I pressed a kiss to the back of his jaw then sucked lightly at the sweet spot on his neck.

“Yeah, everything checks out, we even got her high school photo.”

I bit lightly on his earlobe and whispered, “we?”

“Why don’t you knock on her door and invite her to a poetry reading. Ow.”

I rubbed the spot on his arm where I had just dug my nails. “Ignore him, Sam. He’s just a little frustrated.”

He narrowed his eyes at me as he listened to Sam’s response. “Yeah, I did have some luck with that.”

I leaned back and unhooked my bra as he continued to rattle off the information with his eyes glued to my chest. I touched each strap on my shoulders and he licked his lips as his gaze flicked up to mine.

“They’re savage.” I pushed off one strap and let it fall.

“Animalistic.”

Then did the same with the second. My arms were the only thing keeping the final pieces of material between our upper bodies. “Who cares how I found out. Just listen, these things have to be summoned and they’re worse than a bound reaper.” He pinched the cup of my bra and gazed directly into my eyes as he pulled it down.

I massaged the back of his neck and his gaze darted up to mine. “Nobody knows, dude. They haven’t been seen in a millennia. Like y/n said, it’s ancient and somebody has to know their stuff. I think we got a major player in town.” He leaned forward until his mouth was achingly close, “now why don’t you give that girl a private stripogram. No, bite her. Just don’t leave teeth marks though just enough to where…” he grinned up at me and snapped his phone shut throwing it over his shoulder. “Gets him every time.”

I squirmed in his lap, his mouth was still so close. “Dean.”

His eyes flashed and his tongue swept over his lips. I moaned and rolled my hips shamelessly rubbing against him while my kneading fingers dug into his neck urging him closer. He opened his mouth and the heat alone lit up my nerve endings.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, “yeah, I love this.”

Just as I was considering arching my back to push closer, he finally closed his mouth over my nipple. I cried out at the burst of sensations from his side and mine and rubbed against him, riding out the orgasm.

He whispered against my skin as he lifted me from the chair, “I told you I get the job done.”

I smirked dropping my feet to the floor and pushed him toward the bed, “job’s not done yet, cowboy.”

He was already kicking out of his jeans with his gaze riveted on my hands pushing my own down further with each step toward him. “Oh, hell yes. This…” his gaze shot up to mine as the back of his legs hit the bed, “this is my favorite.”

Excited voices drew me from a warm dream. It was like little pokes in my head until I could finally put meaning to words.

“But I don’t understand. What’s the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?”

“Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.”

“What are you doing?” I leaned up on my elbow. “I thought you were supposed to pick something up from that officer… Amy?”

“That was forty minutes ago.”

I rubbed my eyes, my mind still clearing the fog, “what?”

“We’ve got something solid. It’s gotta be the demon. We’re going to…”

“We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve gotta stake out that warehouse and see who or what is showing up to meet her.”

Dean turned back to Sam, “I don’t think we should do this alone. He’d want to be a part of this.”

That warning crept along my neck and prickled down my arms. I sat up, “I don’t think you should go at all.”

They both looked at me, “what?”

“Something’s not right with her.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, she’s controlling some ancient attack dogs.”

“Beyond that.”

Sam was hesitant and I wondered if he could feel the building tension too.

Dean, on the other hand, was determined, confident in his decision, even relishing the possible end in his sights. “This is the closest we’ve gotten to the thing that killed mom.”

“Or it’s just what it wants you to think!” I snapped and glared at him feeling his anger waver in my chest. “What if the whole thing is a setup?”

Sam walked over to the bed and sat down, staying calm and in control. “We knew it would be tricky getting close to the thing.”

“Your dad’s been close to it before. It wasn’t stumbling upon a case that’s too neat.”

“What do you mean too neat? These people were torn apart!” Dean stood up so fast the chair fell backward. His frustration was flooding his system so bad that he had to move but he was fighting it.

“These murders that pulled us in and Meg being here.” I looked at Sam hoping he’d see reason. “You said it was weird that you bumped into Meg here. You felt something off about it.”

“That’s why I followed her.”

“And what if she knew? What if that was part of the plan?” That hit Sam and his bubbling excitement faded just a bit.

“What plan? Sammy’s good, he was taught by the best and if this is our shot at taking it out then we’re taking it!” Dean began to pace and I couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly so gung-ho.

“What changed in the last forty minutes that makes you so sure?” I tried to calm down. I knew that we could get out of hand and shutting him out may only make things worse with the way the bond’s been since that night the reaper came for him.

Dean stormed over to the table, using the space to calm down too. He picked up two pieces of paper and came back handing them to me. “Place of birth.”

I skimmed the birth certificates and my stomach twisted into knots. “This only solidifies my theory. You’re too close to this.”

“Of course, I’m close to this! The damn thing killed my mother!”

I jumped out of the bed and stabbed my finger into his chest. “You think I don’t remember that?! Maybe I don’t want your dumbass strolling in there to let him kill you too!”

“That’s not gonna happen!”

“How would you know?!”

“Because we’re not stupid!”

“Neither was your mother!”

Dean raised his hand and I stared back at him. Anger, frustration, fear, and hurt bounced back and forth with the force of a heavy steel ball, each one hitting harder than the last. There was never any fear that he would lay a harmful hand on me but Sam’s fear in that moment broke the loop.

I examined Dean’s hand, clenched in almost a claw that he would run through his hair whenever that pulse of anger released but Sam didn’t know that. I knew we’d gone too far or really, were too far gone to tell.

I stepped back as Dean’s hands dove roughly into his hair. I was standing there with just Dean’s black tee shirt on and thankfully, he had thought to put it on me at some point or I’d be standing there completely naked. Another sign we were too close to this, that things had gotten out of hand.

I climbed over the bed and grabbed my jeans from the floor and tugged them on then stormed out of the room without a word. I needed to release some of the pent-up energy. I needed to get away so I only had my feelings to deal with and sort out. I walked with a quick step through the hall and down the stairs trying to look normal then burst out into the night air.

I stood on the wet, cold sidewalk in bare feet and pulled my arms into Dean’s tee shirt. There was a cheap plastic chair under the awning to the right of the back door and I sat down pulling my legs up to my chest. I lowered my forehead to my knees and pressed his shirt to my nose. Breathing him in and thinking of how different it was only two hours ago.

How did that get so out of hand so damn fast? Miss Mary. Neither one of us were all that clear-headed when we thought of that night and what we lost. I should’ve thought of that, I should’ve known, but even with extraordinary abilities, I was still human whether I liked it or not.

Seven

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