#then he THROWS HIMSELF OVER THE FREAKING TIGER LIKE IT MIGHT HAVE JUST ATE HIM BUT HE DIDN'T GIVE A F*CK???

[campbenji]

By now I would've lost all hope on Benji ever becoming canon, if it weren't for the fucking saber-toothed tiger episode...

[mgmirani]

A Second Chance

(Reuploading this post since Tumblr mobile somehow ate it) 

So! This is my entry for Soukoku Week 2019! ( @soukokuweek19 ) I’m not entirely sure how this word vomit turned into something vaguely coherent but I love it and these two adorable morons (mainly Dazai - he’s definitely the bigger moron). 

This was originally written for Day 3: Reaching out but, as it went on, I realised it had drifted away from that so now I’m tagging it under Day 7: Free Day! 

Hope you all enjoy reading!

Title: a Second Chance

Prompt: Day 7 - Free Day

Pairing: Soukoku (Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya) 

Words: 7787

Summary:  It’s a few days after the fight with Lovecraft and Dazai realises that maybe, just maybe, leaving his ex-partner alone in a field after he passed out from exhaustion wasn’t the best decision he could have made. And...wait, when did he start thinking the Chibi was pretty?

(Note: this work contains no triggering or explicit materials)

Four years…

It had been four years since he’d last seen Chuuya and yet, in that Port Mafia holding cell, fiery red hair blending into the red light, blue eyes flashing as they looked up at him, it had felt like no time had passed at all.

More time had passed since then and yet the memory was as clear in his mind as if it happened only yesterday.

Chuuya…

Ignoring Kunikida’s increasingly frequent (and loud) attempts to get him to do his paperwork, Dazai continued to slouch on the couch, eyes closed as he pictured the scene in his mind.

Thoughts of that encounter, naturally, lead him to thoughts of their second. This time, Chuuya had been bathed in blue from the light of the full moon. Red and blue...the same colour as Chuuya’s hair and eyes. It seemed almost ironic.

That encounter had taken place less than a week ago. The Guild was officially defeated thanks to himself, Chuuya, Atsushi and Akutagawa (although how on earth Lovecraft had survived to apparently jump into the sea, Dazai had no idea and no wish to understand) and things had returned to a semblance of what could be considered ‘normal’ for the residents of Yokohama.

...With the exception that there was still an uneasy truce between the ADA and the Port Mafia. Dazai held no illusions that the truce would last overly long. It was only a matter of time before they were, once again, at odds. The question wasn’t if, but when and how the uneasy peace would come crashing down.

“I used Corruption because I trusted you.”

Chuuya’s remembered words drifted through his mind and he shut his eyes more tightly, deliberately trying to turn his mind away from the accusing tone. Chuuya had been tired (he always was after using Corruption) and, though his tone had been exhausted, Dazai had still heard the reproach clear as day.

He hadn’t been entirely truthful in his answer to Chuuya’s question regarding why he hadn’t stopped him as soon as the fight was over. Oh sure, it had been fun to watch Chuuya throw about singularities like it was nothing but that hadn’t been his entire reason.

Chuuya had looked...beautiful.

The blue light, the red markings...the contrast and the sheer power that Chuuya had exuded...he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Even when he wasn’t fully in control, Chuuya always captured his attention: be it to tease or admire.

Not that his Chibi was aware of the admiration. He was far more used to the teasing, the little comments that got him all riled, all the remarks that had those pretty blue eyes flashing with anger or frustration. Dazai couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t resist putting a spark in those eyes just because he wanted it directed at him.

Was this healthy? Absolutely not. But, then again, when had Dazai Osamu ever done anything that was in his own best interest?

...okay, scratch that. When had he ever done anything for his own personal health? He was well aware that he was, in truth, rather selfish despite his attempts to be better.

He cracked open an eye to watch as Atsushi bickered with Tachihara and sent pleading looks to Kyoka for help. The girl, predictably, ignored the unsubtle requests for aid and continued to do her own work. The girl was still on a bit of an emotional high after becoming a full member of the ADA and was determined to keep up with everyone else despite the fact that she was still only fourteen and so, technically, shouldn't be expected to do the same amount of work as everyone else. Then again, she’d been in the Port Mafia and no one remained a child for long there, especially not someone who had already killed 35 people. Dazai should know. He’d long since lost count. Even so, as he stared at Atsushi’s face, tiger-gold eyes shining brightly as he gesticulated wildly, Dazai felt a smile turn up the corners of his lips.

He’d made himself better and that was reflected in Atsushi, in Kyoka, in the relationships he’d managed to somehow scrape together with the other people in the ADA despite how much of a pain in the ass he made himself. He still had a long way to go but, he thought, he’d reached some sort of state in which Odasaku might approve.

And yet…

“I used Corruption because I trusted you…”

And yet, when it came to Chuuya, he had so easily fallen into old habits. It had felt so natural, so right to tease him, to encourage that temper he was still so well known for (even if it was far more difficult for others to bring it to the surface nowadays). Dazai hadn’t even really thought about what he was doing while he interacted with Chuuya, his words and actions flowing like a well-rehearsed script which he had no need to alter, as familiar as breathing and as easy as closing his eyes at the end of a long day.

And yet…

And yet, should he not have done better?

“Take me...to the extraction point…”

Chuuya had trusted him to step in when he used Corruption and Dazai had (at his own pace). Chuuya had asked him to take him somewhere safe after using Corruption and Dazai...Dazai had left him lying on the ground in a field at midnight with his hat and coat folded neatly beside him. He’d left without so much as a backwards glance.  

Chuuya had been fine and he’d known that he’d be fine. There wasn’t anyone else around when they’d left and the location was isolated enough that no one was likely to come across him so Chuuya hadn’t been in any real danger.

Still…

Asking himself if he’d done the right thing was rather redundant. He knew that he hadn’t and it was niggling at him, like a toothache which he couldn’t do anything about or an itch that he just couldn’t scratch. The urge to do...something, wouldn’t leave him alone.

There was, of course, the choice of just ignoring the problem until it went away. That wasn’t an option though. They were in the same city and their organisations were likely to either ally or antagonise each their on a regular basis from this point onwards. He was going to run into Chuuya again sooner rather than later so that was completely out of the question.

What then, should he do? Should he do anything? Would Chuuya be surprised that he’d left him there? Probably not.

That thought had Dazai frowning to himself. He’d gotten used to living up to people’s expectations of him, especially when it came to Atsushi. He’d been able to help him, to help Kyoka and the Agency as a whole that living down to Chuuya’s expectations rather than up…

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

He thought of the surprise that would’ve been on the Chibi’s face if he’d woken up at the extraction point and wished that he’d actually done it. He was sure the reaction would have been amusing. The anger would, of course, have also been amusing but the thought of eliciting a different reaction from the fiery redhead…

Dazai resolved that, the next time they crossed paths, he would do that. He’d make sure and take care of Chuuya if only for the surprise that would cross those expressive features, the confusion that would be hastily covered up in those pretty blue eyes…

...pretty?

Dazai blinked to himself. Since when had he thought of Chuuya’s eyes as pretty? He’d thought so earlier but he hadn’t noticed doing so at the time.  Sure, he found him attractive in an “if I wasn’t attracted to women” sort of way but who didn’t? But actually considering him pretty? He’d always thought Chuuya interesting, fun to poke at and, yes, beautiful with Corruption tracing over his skin but…

...when had this happened?

Not important - alright maybe important but not the main thing he needs to focus on right now. He found Chuuya pretty but surely that didn't mean anything. He wanted to elicit more reactions from the Chibi, positive ones and not just negative ones. He wanted…

...he wanted Chuuya to look at him the way Poe was currently staring at Ranpo while the other was...looking at him.

Ranpo smirked, corners of his lips lifting up in a knowing expression, glasses reflecting the midday light coming in through the windows and Dazai felt his back stiffen.

Deciding to cut his losses, he stood, making it look as natural as possible and not like he was choosing to run away from those too-perceptive eyes, and strode purposefully from the office. Kunikida’s calls for him to return to his desk were, of course, ignored.

It was as he was closing the door taht he heard it.

“Finally.”

He paused, waiting to see what Ranpo would say next. There was nothing for a few seconds before the silence was finally broken.

“...um...what do you mean Ranpo-san?”

“Dazai finally got a clue,” was the only response Ranpo gave and Dazai felt a brief flicker of relief that the detective hadn’t said anything else. He was even more grateful that, at this point, Ranpo hadn’t actually met Chuuya.

Hmmm...now there was a thought. That could be amusing.

Mentally shaking himself, Dazai strode out of the building, debated a moment before heading back to his apartment. He wanted a quiet place to think so he could plan how best to reach out to Chuuya.

..and to process what he’d realised while lounging on the Agency’s couch this afternoon. He couldn’t exactly freak out in public now, could he? Well, he could, but he didn’t feel like drawing attention to himself for a change. Perhaps later when he was in the mood to draw interesting expressions from people other than his Chibi.

Wait...his Chibi?

Well, of course Chuuya was his. They had made that bet hadn’t they? Would Chuuya even remember it, he wondered, with everything else that had happened during those few days. Dazai did though. How could he forget the sound of Chuuya’s head hitting the console or the yell of frustration quickly cut off by surprise as he’d ducked down behind the machine, trying not to be noticed by his so-called ‘friends’ from that stupid gang. Really, Dazai had done him a favour. If they were that easy to turn against him, they didn’t deserve Chuuya anyway.

He stepped more quickly, determined to get home as soon as possible.

He had to think.

—————

Chuuya still lived at the same address.

Dazai wasn't surprised.

What did, however, surprise him, was the easy way the key turned in the lock.

Huh...Chibi hadn’t changed his locks in the four years Dazai had been gone. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Putting said thought to the back of his mind for later consideration, he opened the door on silent hinges and carefully stepped inside.

Chuuya liked his comforts; that included a thick, soft rug which made it incredibly easy to walk silently through the quiet flat. It was about half an hour from sunset and the light filtering through the windows was fiery, tinting everything in shades of gold, copper and red.

As he looked around, he noted that, alongside the locks, very little had changed. Perhaps there was a new piece of art and he was quite sure that the loveseat he remembered had been replaced by a large armchair but, other than that, it was like stepping back in time.

This seemed to happen a lot where Chuuya was concerned.

Dazai had to be careful. He couldn’t let himself slip into old habits. He was here to reach out, to prove that he had changed over the last four years.

…..by sneaking into his flat with the key he’d swiped when they were 16.

Baby steps.

Silently acknowledging that, perhaps, this hadn’t been the best plan but committed to following it through nonetheless, Dazai stepped further into the flat. It was as he was passing a small table that he noticed it; the hat.

Chuuya never went anywhere without that stupid hat so, therefore, the only conclusion Dazai could draw was taht Chuuya was somewhere in his flat.

...and he hadn’t noticed Dazai yet.

Pausing all movement, Dazai closed his eyes and focused all his attention on his surroundings, listening for the slightly rustle of cloth, the faintest screen from deeper into the fat.

Nothing.

Turning his head to better peer into the living room, Dazai confirmed that, yes, Chuuya wasn’t in there, waiting to ambush him. Nor, it appeared, was he in the kitchen.

Logically, that left only one place.

The bedroom door was shut and, aa he approached, Dazai felt a shiver of anticipation go through him. He hadn’t managed to sneak up on Chuuya in quite a while and this was definitely going to result in an interesting reaction.

He may be here to make amends with the Chibi but that didn’t mean he was above drawing out some fun reactions. Just because hw wanted Chuuya to look at him...more positively...didn’t mean he was going to give up antagonisinghim. Where would the fun be in that?

Moving slowly, Dazai reached out and opened the door. It was as quiet as the rest of the flat, swinging on silent hinges as Dazai slowly and carefully opened it enough to slip through and nothing more.

Chuuya was lying in bed, head turned away from the door and towards the massive window on the oppositee wall. Yokohama was lit by crimson light which spilled over Chuuya, blending perfectly with his hair which was fanned out behind him on his pillow.

Dazai felt his breath catch slightly but resolutely ignored it.

Still..

Dazai removed his phone from his pocket and took a picture, thankful he had the camera sound turned off. Chuuya was asleep and he doubted he’d get this chance again any time soon.

Putting his phone away as he stepped further into the room, Dazai was careful to keep his steps light. Chuuya’s bedroom had a wooden floor, a deep cherry wood which matched the furnishings. Said furnishings included the massive four-poster bed which was set against the wall between the walls containing the door and window respectively. The red curtains (and why was he not surprised?) were pulled back, tied neatly to the bed posts with thin braided chords.

The blankets, of course, matched the curtains perfectly and Dazai wondered when exactly Chuuya had time ti pick out such things and how his little ex-partner managed to reach the top of the four-poster bed. Did he have a footstool hiding somewhere or did he just use his gravity manipulation?

This rather random (and entirely amusing) train of thought was cut off when Dazai managed to get a good look at Chuuya’s face.

What he had initially taken for redness from the setting sun was, in fact, revealed to be a deep flush accross his normally pale skin. Now that he was closer, he could hear that, although Chuuya was indeed asleep, his breathing was shallower than would be expected and there was a light sheen of sweat accross his forehead.

He also noted a few dark purple bruises tracing their way accross Chuuya’s skin, disappearing below the blanket. It had been a few days since the incident with Lovecraft and his partner (honestly he couldn’t even remember his name; he was that unimportant) and yet the bruises looked like they had only appeared yesterday.

Dazai felt his stomach drop and a pang in his chest.

Chuuya, apparently, hadn’t been fine.

This...changed things.

—————

Chuuya cracked his eyes open, knowing that something was wrong but not having the energy to deal with it. He felt like his limbs were made of lead and, when he tried to sit up, his head started spinning badly enough that he immediately paused all movement.

Fuck he hated this.

It had been four years since he’d used Corruption and, somehow, in those four years, he’d managed to forget exactly how painful the aftermath was. It could, however, just be that it was worse this time. His body wasn’t used to it anymore.

And, he thought bitterly, it wasn’t as if spending the night in a fucking field out in the open had helped.

Damn Dazai…

“Don’t worry...I got you.”

Yeah fucking right. That was why, at dawn, he’d had to drag himself to Mori’s office, give a delayed report and then drag himself home only to collapse in bed without even being able to change. He’d woken up hours later with the beginnings of a fever and, despite how much it ached and how much he didn’t want to, he’d made himself change out of his filthy clothes, strip the bed and put on clean sheets since he’d slept in his bed without changing out of said filthy clothes, and preprared for about a week of hell.

He’d been conscious for perhaps four to five hours of the last few days, his body demanding that he sleep while it healed from the use of Corruption and fought the fever. Admittedly he wouldn’t have been able to do much even if he had been awake considering how difficult and painful it was to move at this point. His body felt like one giant bruise and, upon waking for the second time covered in sweat and dizzy as fuck, he vowed that he was going to hunt Dazai down when he was able and kick the shit out of the lying bastard. Killing him would be too easy (and likely what the bastard wanted) so Chuuya wouldn’t do that. No, he’d just make him wish he was dead.

A noise from just beyond the door had him turning his head. He almost immediately regretted it, his temples throbbing, but he forced himself to ignore it, fingers twitching under the blanket. What had caused that sound? Was someone in his flat? Who could it be?

As he was preparing to do...soemthing (his brain was far too foggy to come up with anything coherent) the door opened further (he was sure he’d closed it before crawling into bed) and, who should walk in, but the person he was currently planning the maiming of.

“Dazai...”

The name was hissed between clenched teeth, coming out as little more than a croak. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the bandaged bastard in his bedroom doorway.

Dazai had paused, like he was surprise Chuuya was awake, and Chuuya felt his temper flare.

How dare he. How fucking dare that asshole break into his flat after what he’d done. How fuckign dare he!

“Nice to see Chuuya’s awake,” Dazai commented, his tone far quieter than his normal boisterous delivery but Chuuya couldnt’ focus on taht right now, too overcome with the absolute rage he felt at seeing Dazai so soon after being abandoned in a fucking field at midnight after using Corruption.

“I’m gonna make you...wish...you were dead,” he got out through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Dazai replied, not seeming phased by the threat of physical violence and, right now, Chuuya wasn’t all taht surprised. He doubted he could threaten a kitten in  his current state, let alone a slippery bastard like Dazai.

“The fuck do you want,?” He growled, deciding he didn’t have time to deal with Dazai’s bullshit.

“Chibi needs help,” was the immediate reply and Chuuya felt himself tense.

Help?

Dazai thought he needed help?

The bastard thought he needed help after what he did?

“Get. Out.”

“Not until Chibi’s feeling well enough to toss me out himself,” Dazai returned immediately. Chuuya snarled.

What an utter bastard. What was he getting out of this? Was he just here to make fun of the fact that, currently, Chuuya couldn’t throw a pillow, let alone Dazai’s lanky ass? Yeah, that must be it. He was here to be a bastard.

What else was new?

“Her to gloat then? Should’ve known.”

Dazai blinks, affecting a surprised expression which Chuuya wasn’t buying for a moment.

“Gloat?”

“Yes, gloat,” Chuuya repeats, feeling some part of him settle now that he’d figured out exactly why Dazai was here. The bastard would taunt him for a while, maybe make a half-hearted (and entirely unhelpful) effort to aid him and then fuck off back to his detective agency until the next time he needed Chuuya to hit something he couldn’t talk his way around.

Dazai, it seemed, wanted to draw this out though since, unlike what Chuuya was expecting, he didn’t immediately drop the act nd start taunting him. Instead, Dazai made a “wait here” gesture (which was rather ridiculous since he could barely make himself roll over, let alone get out of bed right now) and left the room.

What was he doing? Was he trying to put him on edge by making noise where Chuuya couldn't see or reach? Was he breaking his shit so Chuuya would have to clean up the mes when he could drag himself out of bed? No, that would be too simple and blunt for Dazai. He had to be up to soemthing else.

Sounds reached his ears but he couldn't figure out what they were. All he could do was lie there and wait for Dazai to return.

He must’ve dozed off again because the next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes and turning towards a weight he felt on the bed. Dazai had returned and sat himself on the edge of the bed, perching like a bird that knew it would have to take flight rather quickly at any moment.

“What do you want now?” He grumbled, too tired to put up too much of a fight. His anger had, apparently, given way to tiredness while he’d been dozing and Chuuya couldn’t find the strength to muster it again. What was even the point? Perhaps this was a good thing. If Dazai couldn't get any interesting reactions from him, he might go away faster. Dazai was, after all, like a spoilt kid with a shiny toy. That toy was, in this case, Chuuya (loathe as he was to compare himself to such a thing). If Chuuya didn’t react, didn’t give Dazai anything to work with, he’d move on to something else more shiny, more fun to poke at with a stick to watch its reaction.

Dazai didn’t reply to him, instead turning and picking something up from the bedside table he sat beside. He heard the sound of water slouching about before something cool and damp was pressed against his forehead.

Wha…?

Dazai, not noticing his confusion (or more likely pretending not to notice - that bastard noticed everything) turned away from him. Chuuya wanted to reach up and throw the cloth at Dazai’s stupid face, put enough weight behind it to cave in the bastard’s fucking skull ike he deserved but, again, he couldn’t make himself move.

When Dazai turned back to him, he was holding a bowl in one hand and...a spoon in the other.

“No,”

“Chibi needs to eat.”

“I said no!” The anger was back, blazing in his chest. So this was his plan then? Not just gloat but try and humiliate him too? Probably taunt him while he fed him like a fucking child. Fuck that. He wasn’t going to accept it. Whatever it was was likely poisoned anyway (be it deliberately or because of the shitty bastard’s inability to cook anything without somehow making it toxic).

“Chuuya needs to eat,” Dazai repeated, as if he thought using Chuuya’s actual name instead of that stupid fucking taunt would make a difference.

Chuuya closed his eyes and turned his face away. If Dazai wanted him to eat whatever it was, he’d have to force it down his throat. He heard a sigh and felt himself bristle more. What did that bastard have to sigh about? He wasn’t the one stuck in bed with a fever and covered in bruises because his fucking partner had abandoned him after a mission.

His train of thought was rudely interrupted when he felt...something, sliding through his hair.

What the…?

It was soothing, rhythmic and...very pleasant. Unbidden, he felt his body relax, muscles that had been tensed to do...soemthing...uncoiling like an unwound spring.

It was as he felt himself lean into it that he realised what it was and tensed all over again.

Dazai was petting him, running his fingers through Chuuya’s (undoubtedly sweaty) hair, fingers playing with the strands before returning to massage his scalp. He really was out of it if he hadn’t been able to recognize what Dazai was doing.

How pathetic.

“Chibi’s always been the most stubborn when he’s sick,” Dazai murmured and Chuuya held in a snort.

“Who was the one who acted like he was dying from a cold?”

“It could’ve turned into pneumonia,” Dazai defended, tone indignant.

“You are such a fucking drama queen,” Chuuya muttered, eyes slipping closed again as he let himself enjoy the physical contact. He knew this was a trick of some sort (it was Dazai - there was always a trick) but, with how little energy he had right now, he was willing to enjoy it before the bastard pulled something else.

Hadn’t he been angry not a minute ago? He tried to concentrate on the feeling but couldn’t. He was still angry, still furious with the other male but he just didn’t have the energy to express it properly. His mind was also vaguely foggy (probably from the fever) so that likely wasn’t helping.

Fuck this situation and fuck Dazai Osamu. When this was over, he was going to pay the bastard back for this, one way or another.

“Hmmm…” Dazai made a non-comical noise and Chuuya’s thoughts were forcibly dragged back to the present moment, to the feeling of Dazai’s fingers tangling themselves in his hair and rubbing gentle circles against his scalp.

“Chuuya never eats after Corruption. I suppose that hasn’t changed.”

The comment caught Chuuya off guard. Weren’t they just talking about how much of a pain Dazai was when he’s ill?

“...Your point?”

“Chuuya should eat more.”

Yes, Chuuya should drag himself, in his current state, to the kitchen and make himself something to eat. That would go absolutely wonderfully he was sure. His expression clearly must have conveyed his thoughts because Dazai once again held up the bowl.

“No.”

“What if I eat some?”

“Your a suicidal maniac. If you eat it, it’s definitely poison.”

“Chuuuya,” Dazai whined and Chuuya fought back a small smirk at the tone. It felt good to annoy Dazai, even just a little. For all he knew the bastard could just be putting it on but he’d take what he could get in this situation.

“And what if I didn’t make it?”

“Then where did you get it?” Had Dazai raided his cupboards to find something? He couldn’t remember what was in there. Did he have a few tins of soup stored somewhere? It was possible.

Dazai, for once, kept his mouth shut and, instead, tilted the bowl so that Chuuya could get a good look at the contents and, at the same time, ensuring that he had the opportunity to smell whatever it was.

As he breathed in, the familiarity of the bowl’s contents hit his senses and his eyes widened minutely.

How the…?

“This is still you favourite, right?” Dazai asked, tilting the bowl further towards him.

“...how the hell do you remember that after four years?”

“You ordered me to get it for you often enough. It’s hard to forget.”

Hesitantly, Chuuya leaned forward and took another, deeper sniff of the revealed bouillabaisse. He’d discovered a small cafe not long after moving into this flat, only a few streets away, and had fallen utterly in love with their food. It hadn’t taken him long to get into the habit of eating there once a week or, on the odd occasion where he didn’t feel like being out in public, having the staff prepare him a meal which he would then eat in the privacy of his own flat.

The bouillabaisse in the bowl had been one of the first things on the menu he’d tried. There was just something about it that Chuuya couldn’t quite put his finger on. All he knew was that it had become a routine rather early in their relationship that, after using Corruption and returning home (normally dragged there by Dazai or one of his minders), he’d have someone fetch him a bowl of bouillabaisse from that cafe, eat it and then pass out for a few days.

Apparently, Dazai had remembered…

It didn’t mean anything. Just because the bastard remembered this was his favourite thing to eat when he was ill or post-Corruption, didn’t mean Chuuya was going to eat it.

“Come on,” Dazai coaxed. “How will you feel better and throw me out if you don’t eat anything?”

“...Are you seriously trying to use logic? You, of all people?”

“Chuuya says that like I’m not logical.”

“Are you implying you are?”

“When am I ever not logical?”

“March 5th, five years ago.”

Was it his imagination or were Dazai’s cheeks turning a little red? Nah, it was probably the light coming in through his windows.

“Chuuya’s being mean when I came here to help him feel better,” Dazai pouted and Chuuya snorted slightly.

“Since when do you help anyone but yourself?”

The mirth fled Dazai’s face, leaving it blank. It was only in the absence of emotion that Chuuya realised just how much of it Dazai had been exuding. The gaze looking down at him felt...empty and, despite how warm he felt, he had to fight back a shiver.

This was the Dazai he remembered; the one that could go from playfully vicious to cold, ruthless and unnerving in less time than it took you to blink. And there Chuuya was, practically helpless lying in bed with those deadened, blank eyes staring down at him.

“Four years ago.”

Chuuya blinked, confused.

What?

“Well...that’s perhaps a bit generous. Maybe about a year and a half ago.”

“Had Dazai...answered his question?

“What the fuck?”

It was only when those dead eyes flickered that he realised that he must’ve asked the question aloud.

“You see,” Dazai continued. “I didn’t join the Agency right away. I had to lay low for a few years, keep my head down, show I could stay out of trouble before they would...deal...with my record.”

“So what changed?”

If Dazai was in the mood to answer questions (even if Chuuya was more than half convinced that his ex=partner was just spouting bullshit to mess with him), Chuuya was going to get as much out of him as possible.

“Something.”

“Feel like giving specifics?”

“You’ll be the first to know when I figure it out.”

“Yeah right.”

That gaze was still unnerving but he forced himself to ignore it. He’d worked with Dazai for three years and, even if it had been four since they’d last done so, he still remembered this. Act normal. Depending on his mood, he’ll pull himself out of soon enough. (Yet another reason Chuuya was sure that, had Dazai not been in the Port Mafia, he would have been ordered by someone to see a goddamn therapist a long time ago).

“I only really noticed after I met Atsushi.”

“The tiger brat?”

“The very same.” There was a smile creeping back into the corners of Dazai’s mouth, his eyes gaining warmth that had been absent and Chuuya felt a surge of...something...in his chest. So those Agency brats could get Dazai to show emotion (genuine from what he could tell) after about a year while Chuuya had known Dazai for three, nearly four, and hadn’t managed to elicit anything other than taunting, annoyance and the urge to set a bomb under his car?

Fan-fucking-tactic.

“Then why aren’t you bothering him?” He succeeded in keeping the bitterness from his voice, barely, and forced himself to relax again now that those dead eyes were no longer directed at him. Fuck; he hated that look.

“Atsushi’s not the one lying in a bed with a fever.”

“Funny thing, neither would I if you hadn’t left me in a fucking field.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

They were going in circles, their conversation going nowhere. Or, at least, that’s how it felt to Chuuya. It felt like he’d take a few steps forward but then Dazai would say something and there’d they’d be, right back to where they started; the fact that Dazai had broken into Chuuya’s flat while he was unconscious after leaving him, exhausted and alone.

“Give me one good reason why I should trust you.”

“...and if I can’t think of one?”

“Then congratulations; that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me in the last seven years.”

“Will Chuuya eat now?”

“You’re not going to go away until I do, are you?”

“Like I said; I’m not leaving til Chibi’s well enough to throw me out himself.”

“Fucking...fine.”

Dazai blinked down at him, surprise flashing accross his features before it was once again masked behind that pleasant, charming smile he so often liked to wear.

“If it’ll make you leave sooner, fine. I’m too sick to deal with your bullshit. If it’s poisoned, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your shitty life.”

“Whatever Chibi says.”

“Shut up and help me sit up. I’m not lying here while you spoon feed me like an infant.”

“But Chibi’s as small as-“

“Finish that sentence and I will maim you”

Dazai once again set the bowl to the side and, far more carefully than Chuuya would expect from the bandaged bastard, helped me into a semi-sitting position, back pressed against the mountain of pillows Chuuya insisted on keeping on his bed. Chuuya was sure to keep his movements slow so as not to aggravate his injuries or spark another bout of dizziness.

“Why does Chuuya have so many pillows?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“No reason, just curious.”

“I’ll believe your ‘just curious’ line when you go a week without getting slapped.”

“It’s day six, I’m sure I can manage.”

“Sure you can.”

“Want to bet on it?”

“Right now, fuck no.”

“Chuuya’s no fun when he’s ill.”

Chuuya didn’t dignify that with a response, merely gesturing for Dazai to hand him the bowl. Dazai seemed hesitant but Chuuya’s glare intensified and he gave a put upon sigh, as if he was the one being inconvenienced in this situation, before handing the bowl over.

Chuuya propped it in his lap carefully, making sure there was no chance of him accidentally tipping it over, before taking his first spoonful of the bouillabaisse. He closed his eyes as the taste hit his tongue. It had been a while since he’d managed to visit the cafe and this was, admittedly, just what he needed.

Movement drew his attention and, as he turned his head, he noticed Dazai hopping off the bed and heading towards the door. Suspicious of what he was doing but not being able to follow, Chuuya returned his attention to the bowl in his lap and continued to eat.

It was as he was finishing (he stil had about a third of the bowl left but he couldn’t make himself eat any more) that Dazai returned, two slightly steaming mugs in his hands. Chuuya couldn’t stop himself raising an eyebrow when he realised exactly what was inside them.

“Really?”

“Chibi kept it in the same place.”

“The minute you go, I’m changing the locks.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t anyway.”

“I forgot you had a key. Trust me, I will.”

Dazai made no comment, simply taking the bowl away and replacing it with the steaming mug of chamomile and spiced apple tea he’d procured from Chuuya’s kitchen.

The scent, like that of the bouillabaisse, was familiar, calming and made Chuuya relax further into the pillows. Breathing in the fragrant steam, he could almost pretend that the aches and pains were non-existent, that he wasn’t still overly-warm and uncomfortable from fever and that Dazai, bandaged bastard that he was, actually gave a damn rather than this pretence he was putting up for some unknown reason.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he murmured, tone soft as he took his first sip. The warmth traveled down his throat and settled in his stomach, pleasant rather than the uncomfortable warmth he felt everywhere else.

“...I know.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because…” Dazai paused but Chuuya didn’t look at him, didn’t want to see what emotions were passing over his face. He couldn’t trust that anything he saw was real. “Because I’ve changed and, the other night, I acted like I would have four years ago and...I didn’t like it.”

There it was. This wasn't about Chuuya at all. It was about Dazai feeling guilty that he’d not stuck to whatever precious morals he’d managed to scrape together over the past few years.

“And,” Dazai continued, capturing Chuuya’s attention before his thoughts could primal any further downwards. “I realised I should’ve been a better partner and taken you to the extraction point.”

As if he was going to believe that horseshit.

“So you think taking care of me now makes up for it?”

“No,” Dazai admitted and Chuuya was tempted to turn, to see what affected emotion was on that face but he resisted, keeping his eyes closed and breathing in the sweet scent of his tea. “But I’m hoping Chuuya wil find it in him to give me a chance to do better next time.”

“And what if, next time, you just say fuck it and don’t stop me?”

Because, as much as he’d cursed Dazai after waking up and dragging himself to Mori’s office, as much as he’d ranted and raved about how he should have known better than to trust the bastard to do what he’d asked...he’d still held out some shred of hope that Dazai would do what he’d said. When they were partners, Dazai had occasionally taken off after Chuuya had used Corruption but, in those circumstances, there were almost always other members of the Port Mafia around (typically Hirotsu) who would make sure he got back safe. This time, it had just been them so his only option afterwards had been Dazai.

And Dazai had abandoned him there.

It wasn’t a big step from ‘not taking me somewhere safe after using Corruption’ to ‘not stopping me when I use Corruption’.

“That won’t happen.”

And Chuuya had to look at him, had to see his expression because what the hell?

Dazai’s tone nad been sharp, almost commanding. As he met that amber, steely gaze, Chuuya felt something in him react (though what it was, he couldn’t be sure). Dazai’s eyes were determined, focused on Chuuya like he was the only thing that mattered in that moment. He couldn’t remember a look like that ever being directed at him before.

“And why’s that?” The words left him almost involuntarily, tone not quite biting as he locked gazes with Dazai, willing himself to see through whatever act teh bastard might put up, ready to focus on any microexpression that might slip through the cracks.

“Chibi’s not allowed to die.”

“What’s it to you if I die or not? Newsflash; you’re the one that left, not me.”

“Chibi’s not allowed to die,” Dazai repeated, as if by saying it again he could make Chuuya accept it. Not happening - he was sick, not oblivious.

“Why do you suddenly care?”

“Chibi wouldn’t believe me if I told him.”

“Try me.”

“Chibi’s pretty when he’s angry.”

That statement caused Chuuya to nearly spill hot tea over himself as he stared, incredulous at Dazai who was now deliberately not looking at him.

What. The. Fuck.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I told you.”

How the hell was he meant to react to that?

“I have no idea how to respond to that statement and, right now, part of me is sure you’re just a hallucination brought on by fever.”

Dazai let out a small chuckle at that statement, turning to look at Chuuya again. That warmth that had been in his eyes when he’d talked about Atsushi was...directed at him. When had this happened? How was he supposed to react to this? Was this really Dazai Osamu? It didn’t seem likely but…

...but an imposter wouldn’t have known about his favourite food when he was ill, wouldn’t have reacted when he brought up that particular event in March five years ago, wouldn’t have teased him quite so much if they were trying to get into his good graces. There was too much that was so purely Dazai that the only conclusion he could come to was that he was, in fact, speaking with the real him.

And that thought was mildly terrifying because…

Dazai Osamu told him, to his face, that he was pretty.

“You know, you don’t have to say anything,’ Dazai commented, that stupid, warm expression still in his eyes and the corners of his mout turned up in a small smile that looked far more genuine than anything Chuuya could remember seeing during their three years together. “”But you asked so…”  He shrugged, as if he didn’t really care whether Chuuya responded or not.

“You expect me not to say something after that?”

Dazai shruged again, as if he couldn’t care less what Chuuya had to say.

“So, what does Chibi have to say?”

...that was a good question and, unfortunately, it wasn’t one he had an answer to. This...was never something he thought he’d ever have to deal with. Dazai had never, to Chuuya’s knowledge, admitted an attraction to another male. And for said male to be Chuuya of all people…

“When, exactly, did you…?” How did he even finish the question?

“Yesterday,” Dazai admitted.

“...and how did you come to this realisation?”

Keep talking, keep asking questions. Maybe it would start to make sense if he just kept asking questions.

This time, Dazai didn’t answer and Chuuya felt a surge of annoyance. Dazai had been surprisingly forthright so far but he’d known that, at some point, he’d clam up and stop answering.

“I...think I’d prefer to tell you that some other time.”

Wait, what? Dazai wasn’t refusing to answer the question, just refusing to answer it now?

“So…” Chuuya began, eyes narrowed as he put the pieces together. “You break into my flat, bring me food, say you’re going to look after me until I feel well enough to kick your bandaged ass out and now you’re saying you think I’m pretty (which you only realised yesterday!) but you’re not giving me a reason why you suddenly think this even though I know you’ve only ever been attracted to women?”

Dazai shrugged again, the motion easy and careless. Chuuya let himself flop back against his pillow mountain, lifting an arm to cover his face so he wouldn’t have to look at the bandaged bastard, not caring at the uncomfortable sensations from the bruises as he did so.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

“Is that a good thing?”

Chuuya didn’t dignify that with a response, just kept his arm over his eyes and tried to proces the last few minutes of their conversation.

“This still doesn’t change anything,.”

“I know.”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to give me another chance.”

“And if I don’t?”

Dazai didn’t reply for a while and Chuuya was, once again, tempted to look at him but resolutely did not. He did lower his arm but kept his eyes closed. He lifted the mug of cooling tea to his lips again and finished it off in a few small sips. Wordlessly, Dazai took it from his hand and he heard it being set down on the nightstand.

“Then you don’t.”

“Just like that?‘

“Just like that.”

“You’re not going to try some stupid shit to win me over?”

“Would it work?”

That...was a fair point. Chuuya knew Dazai’s tricks, had seen them used often enough that he could practically recite them word for word, rehearsed gesture for rehearsed gestures. If Dazai tried any of his normal shit with Chuuya, he’d know and kick the bastard’s ass for it. The fact that Dazai had acknowledged that, had admitted that his normal methods wouldn’t work on him...

“And besides,’ Dazai continued. “Why would I trick you into something like this/‘

“Because it would amuse you. You’d find this sort of shit funny: don’t even bother denying it.”

“Maybe,” Dazai admitted. “But I’ve decided that if anything happens, I don’t want it to be because I tricked you into it.”

Chuuya was once again having doubts that this was, in fact, the real Dazai Osamu.

“Just ...think it over. I’m not expecting an answer any time soon.”

‘And if you never get one?”

“Then I’ll just have to live in hope that I’ll get one one day, won’t I?”

With that, Dazai once again left the room, taking the dirty cups and bowl with him. Chuuya was left alone with his thoughts which were currently roiling, unable to concentrate on any one thing for longer than a. Few seconds before soemthing else captured his attention.

He did’t know how to feel, didn’t know how to react. This was no t something he had ever considered a possibility under any circumstance and, now that he was fed and relatively comfortable, he didn’t really want to think about it. As quickly as his mind was flitting from subject to subject, he could feel it also beginning to slow as his body decided that, having been awake for a decent amount of time, it was now time to return to unconsciousness so that his body could focus on healing itself.

Gingerly, he shuffled back under the covers so only his head was supported by the pillows and curled up on his side facing the door. He opened his eyes, watching for Dazai. His eyes were drooping however and, as he closed them, he was vaguely aware of the sensation of a hand running through his hair again as he drifted off to sleep.

———-

A few weeks later, head in Dazai’s lap and fingers once again stroking through his hair, Chuuya couldn’t help but think that, maybe, just maybe, it was worth giving Dazai that second chance.

[axel-fics]

Because of You - Chapter 4

A/N: Writer’s block is a BTCH but I’m back!! Pretty proud of how this chapter came out :D 

Summary: During his Mark of Mastery Exam, Sora falls into the hands of Master Xehanort and is taken to the Realm of Darkness. Now, it’s up to his friends to save him before he succumbs to the darkness. This is the story Axel and the reader as they journey through the Sleeping Worlds, begin their training as Keyblade Masters, and learn just how much they secretly care for each other.

In a flash, you summoned your Keyblade and charged at the swarm of Nightmares. It was only your second time using the weapon in battle and it clearly showed; thankfully your Meow Wow Dreameater was by your side helping you defeat the colorful creatures. At least going through the seven sleeping worlds will help train you to use the Keyblade better. 

Lea held out his hand to summon his Keyblade, only to have a single chakram appear in his hand. He was completely taken aback at his inability to summon his new weapon, only having a split second to defend himself from a panda Nightmare striking him. 

“Shit,” he gritted. 

“What?” You called over your shoulder, still defending yourself from the Nightmares. 

Lea didn’t have time to answer. He summoned his second chakram and started throwing them around like boomerangs slicing through the air and destroying Nightmares in a single strike. Over the next several minutes, the two of you, alongside with your Dreameaters, vanquished every last Nightmare in the town square. When the coast was clear, Lea caught his chakrams midair with barely any effort and glared at them. 

“I couldn’t summon my Keyblade…” he murmured, staring at his weapons in disappointment. The vision of his Flame Liberator danced around in his mind, the Keyblade he obtained when he took his own dive back in the Tower only a short time ago. Why all of a sudden could he not conjure the weapon now?

“Wait a sec, I’ve never seen this door before!” Your gasp shook Lea out of his thoughts as he watched you run past the tiny cafe behind him. Grabbing the large door handle, you pulled it with all your strength and continued on with Lea hot on your trail. It was a dark alleyway with a ton more apartment buildings surrounding it and a long, narrow roadway that lead up to a water canal. Without hesitation you ran through the small waterfall and followed the pathway until you reached another exit with a number ‘4’ inscribed over it. Your whole body was soaked with water, but your excitement over discovering a whole new area of town took precedence. 

“A fourth district?? This is unbelievable! I’ve only been to three in this whole world,” you exclaimed. You turned back to see Lea emerge from the canal, his spiky hair dripping wet at the sides. He shook the water loose like a wet dog, which made you giggle. 

“There’s a fifth one, too, if you continue down that road,” a voice called. 

“Huh? Who’s there?”

A boy in a lavender dress shirt and jeans jumped down from a tall building and landed in front of you, scaring the skin off your bones. 

“Are you always this jumpy?” He asked. 

“Only when strange guys jump out of nowhere,” you retorted. “Who’re you?”

“My name is Joshua. You’re friends of Sora and Riku’s, aren’t you?

“How did you—?”

“They were here not too long ago. Though it is interesting: they were here at the same time but separated by the portal. You see, this world was split into two, and each of them were in one of the two parallel versions of Traverse Town. The two of you though are here in the same version of Twilight Town.”

“We’re following Sora’s path specifically. He’s…in trouble,” you whispered. You didn’t want to be rude to this Joshua, especially since he’s been in contact with Sora and might be able to help. But you couldn’t help but feel pressured to find the Keyhole to this world and continue on as quickly as you could.

Joshua eyed you carefully, as if he were probing your inner thoughts. He pointed down the alleyway to your left. “Follow that path to the fifth district and hook a right. The Keyhole you’re looking for is by the town greenhouse. But be prepared: you’ll have to fight your way to uncover it.”

“Greenhouse…?” You placed your hands on your hips and sighed.

“What is it?” Lea asked. 

“Oh, nothing…” Lea raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay, fine! I’ve lived here most of my life and all of a sudden there’s more districts and places to go that I didn’t even know existed. It’s just that my life is already a mystery to me, and now this place just adds to that mystery. I feel like I know less and less about myself every day…” 

Lea couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Guilt ate away at his heart as he watched you struggle with your thoughts. The words he wanted to say came to his lips but disappeared before his voice could make a sound. Just tell her the truth. Tell her you know. 

Tell her how you failed her… 

“Well, anyways, there’s no time to think about that now,” you suddenly perked up. “We have a Keyhole to find!”

“Wow. You really are friends with Sora. You two are cut from the same cloth,” Joshua mused. 

“Hey, what does that mean?” 

“You’re both resilient to distress practically,” he chuckled, “and extremely upbeat, even in the toughest of situations.”

“I guess when you travel to different places for so long together, you kinda become one in the same person,” you laughed. “Thanks for your help, Joshua! Let’s get going, Lea.”

“Just… be careful. The Nightmare guarding the Keyhole is a strong one. Don’t let your light go out,” Joshua warned. 

As you and Lea ran down the road, Joshua’s eyes followed until you were out of sight. 

“Sora’s counting on you.”

~*~

“This place is so beautiful,” you observed. 

The town’s greenhouse was bigger than any building you’ve seen around town. It was made of glass and radiated a warm, yellow glow that lit up the entire fifth district. From inside the greenhouse you could smell an aroma of different flowers, all sweet and soothing that you were tempted to lay down inside and take a nice long nap. A cool breeze sent chills down your spine, snapping you from your daydream and back to the situation at hand. A Nightmare was around here somewhere, and you had to stay focused. 

“Let’s try the top of the greenhouse,” Lea said. The two of you climbed your way up and looked at the area from above; the night sky was so beautiful and the stars were burning bright above you. The last time you saw this view was from the roof of your old home, only it was from the first district. You couldn’t help but feel a slight bit nostalgic again, remembering spending hours sitting on your roof enjoying the peaceful silence the night time brought. Things were a lot simpler back then; so much has changed… 

The ground suddenly shook beneath your feet, almost knocking you down. Summoning your Keyblade, you searched the area for the disturbance but saw nothing. Your Meow Wow Dreameater hid behind your back, too scared to move. Lea tried summoning his Keyblade again, only to have his chakrams appear in his hands once again.

“What is going on…” he gritted through his teeth. 

“Worry about that later,” you said. “We’ve got company.” You pointed towards opposite side of the greenhouse to where a pair of large, purple ears stuck up. 

A Nightmare appeared in the form of a giant tiger with teeth bigger than your Keyblade and piercing yellow eyes. Without hesitation, the creature shot a large ball of fire in your direction, sending both you and Lea flying in opposite directions. Both your Dreameaters came to your sides, only to freak out and hide once again from the ginormous Nightmare. Looks like the two of you were on your own for this fight… 

The creature charged for Lea, who only had a split second to defend himself before one of it’s large claws came swiping down. Lea sent both of his chakrams flying ablaze, forcing the Nightmare backwards to avoid getting burned. But then the Nightmare overpowered Lea’s attacks and lunged towards him, his mouth wide open and boasting a mouth full of sharp teeth. Lea defended himself from the attack by raising his chakrams to defend himself, pushing back on the Nightmare’s mouth with all his strength. 

“Axel!” From behind the creature, you shot a Blizzard spell and froze the tip of the Nightmare’s tail, distracting it from it’s assault on Lea. When the creature turned around, it’s frozen tail sent Lea flying again to the far end of the greenhouse. You held your Keyblade steady and waited for the Nightmare to charge at you, only to use it’s now frozen tail to it’s advantage by breaking the glass of the greenhouse roof from under your feet. You had no time to brace yourself before you fell through, the Nightmare following you down into the greenhouse interior. Before you were about to land harshly onto the floor, you extended your arm and caught on one of the railings and saved yourself from any major damage. 

“[Y/N]!” You heard Lea’s panicked voice from above you, and as you looked up you saw the glass ceiling magically repair itself, officially separating you from Lea and locking you in with the Nightmare. 

“Just great,” you mumbled. Dropping down to the ground safely, you turned toward the Nightmare and continued your attacks as best as you could. The creature did seem a bit run down, but it wasn’t enough for you to take it on one-on-one. Despite the disadvantage, you knew you had to try with all your strength to take it down. You weren’t going to let one silly-looking tiger get in the way of saving your best friend, not in a million years. 

You fought with all your strength against the nightmare, sending your most powerful spells to help slow it down from it’s onslaught of attacks. Now getting more used to using the Keyblade, your attacks were already improving in the heat of battle, and you did your best to counter any attacks against you. Suddenly, you became aware of your new surroundings and found yourself cornered by the beast with no where to run. You raised your Keyblade once again as the Nightmare’s hot breath and sharp teeth got closer and closer. 

“[Y/N]! Over here!” Lea’s voice called out to you again, this time sounding closer to you. From behind the creature, Lea came charging with his flamed chakrams, distracting the Nightmare once again. You took the opportunity for a splice attack: Lea attacking from one end of the monster and you the other. The attack was successful, and the creature fell to the ground with a loud thump before vanishing into thin air. 

Completely exhausted, you fell to your knees and slumped over, trying to catch your breath. “Well, that was fun,” you sighed sarcastically. 

“Are you okay,” Lea asked. He held out a hand towards you offering to lift you up, which made you blush. 

“Yeah, are you?”

“I’ll be better when I figure out why this damn Keyblade won’t summon for me,” Lea grumbled. 

“Maybe something’s on your mind distracting you? When I think about summoning my Keyblade, I clear all my thoughts and believe with all my heart that the Keyblade will come to me. And sure enough, it does. Maybe try that next time,” you smiled. 

“Clear my thoughts…” Lea folded his arms and closed his eyes.

“So, what’s distracting you?”

Memories flashed through his mind in an instant. The mysterious white castle. His home world suddenly swallowed up in darkness. His hand reaching out for her’s. The scream that escaped her lips. 

“Lea? You okay?”

Lea snapped out of his thoughts and looked at you, your eyes watching him closely. Once again he felt the words bubble up deep inside him, ready to burst. “You…”

But he couldn’t say anything. Not just yet.

“You…called me Axel before,” he whispered.

“I did? Oh, I’m sorry, Lea. It must’ve just slipped,” you said. 

“It’s okay. You can call me Axel if you’d like; I don’t mind either way.”

“Okay then, Axel. I’ll get it memorized this time, promise,” you winked, giggling as you mocked his signature catchphrase. 

Just then, a bright light appeared above you, and the outline of a Keyhole emerged.

“Go ahead,” Axel said. “You’re the only one who has a Keyblade right now.”

Aiming your Keyblade at the Keyhole, a beam of light shot through and the sound of a door unlocking in the distance filled your ears. If Sora were here, you thought, he’d be proud. 

“One down, six more to go.” 

[2pcanadas-googlehistory]

@2pswedens-googlehistory

writing prompts under the cut (’cause there are a lot of them. I kinda copied and pasted them from various tumblr posts so I could find them later)

“Look, I might be evil but even I have standards.” “Do your parents know you’re dating Death?” “No, I promised we wouldn’t get back together after he broke up with me the first time.” “Wait why am I naked and covered in cheese?” “Good god, that cake is fuckin stale and dry mate!!” “Just like how you are recently? Gee, thanks.” "There is always time for a high-five.” “Karen, what would ever posses you to find me here.” “Oh my god, put that man down! Come on, let’s go get you some REAL food.” “A demonic sugar glider?” “People always say they never thought they would be here but I absolutely did.” “And I thought I was a bit weird. But you! You are insane!” “So your hair knows kung-fu? Ha, that’s nothing! MY hair knows HAIR-ATE!” (You know, as in karate) (This used to be an insider between me and a friend…) “One day, darling, you and I are going to conquer the Universe not just our world.” “Did you seriously think they wouldn’t notice when their humans went missing?!” “Well, maybe next time you should consider that not everyone wants to be woken up at four in the morning by a- what IS that, anyway?!” “Now, how exactly did your foot get stuck in the barrel?” “I hope you realize what you’re doing. This forest never ends, you know that, right?” “You can’t just kill someone and then make it all better by saying sorry!” “Why the fuck is my cat levitating?!” “He said he wanted to feel what flying was” “You’re trying to tell me you killed three men…with a microphone?” “Hang on, are you a John Wick fan?” “IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING!” “And?” “ I have a strict no murder rule until eight. Call me then.” “I did realize you were going to be naked the whole time” “Ok, I understand you like animals, but you can’t just bring a tiger into the apparent without asking!” “I…I didn’t want you to find out like this. I’m so sorry.” “OH MY GOD CATHERINE! I JUST SAW A NARWHAL! I’M TELLING YOU, I SAW A FREAKIN’ WHALE UNICORN!” “I gotta go, I left my toaster in the oven! "Why is there a gaggle of fancy buisness men on my front lawn?” “Can you please stop referring to me as ____! That’s not my name!” “Then what is?” “I don’t know!” *Sarcastic* “Yeah, sure. I won’t at all mind being your footslave.” “Oh, goody! I knew you’d agree!” “Wait, what?” “When are you going to give up on this whole ‘evil’ thing?” “When it stops being so much fun!” “You didnt say to KILL the man!” “WELL I DIDNT SAY NOT TOO” “Mum, Dad… I’m gay.” “That’s nice, honey, but now is not the right time!” “Take a look at your soul and consider your life choices! Oh wait, that’s right! You don’t fucking have a soul!” “Oh, god, just go drown in a bathtub of syrup why don’t ya?” “I kindly ask you to please quit making your heart stop. It’s creeping me out!” “So… Y-You were sleeping in a coffin” “Yeah I’m used to it” “Are you a vampire or what?! How can someone get used to sleep in a coffin?” “No I’m used to sleep I never said that I’m used to sleep in a freaking coffin!” “Darling I love you, more than I can ever express in words…. But please stop teaching chickens necromancy.” “I wanted to know why you stole souls, not your melodramatic backstory…” “I really wish that old white man would stop rubbing his nipples at me” “You know it is written: Do not summon Satan, right ?” “Look around, what is this?” “My room?” “No, this is pathetic.” “I’ve been a professor for 20 years, and yet still my greatest secret hasn’t been revealed–I can’t read.” “Our souls don’t belong in these 'human’ bodies, every one of us is implanted here from another galaxy, and this has been the case for a thousand years. No one knows what 'actual humans’ are like without us inhabiting them.” “Did you just create a portal in time and space to pull another version of yourself into this world so I have to deal with another annoying idiot?” “No but thanks for the idea.” “You’re bleeding?!” “Nah, I’m frolicing in a field of flowers - yes I’m bleeding!” “Let me get this straight. I tell you that I make a decent omelette and you somehow equate that to qualification for piloting a spaceship?” “It’s the weekend! Let’s hit the town! See a concert, redo our wardrobes, get high, start a crime ring, I don’t know.” “Keep running, you’ve only got 4HP!” “This is clearly your first time. Stop screaming already, you’ll wake the neighbors!” “Has anyone seen the outdoors?” “What the fuck is an outdoors?” “Why do I feel like this again, I thought we were done with this?” “Look, as much as I like to hang out with you, I’ve gotta go and save the earth. Toodles!” “Have you seen?… oh shit” “Two questions: one, how many matches do you have, and two, where do you keep your socks?” “Because fuck surveys, that’s why!” “Stop yelling out the window or the koalas will rip your face off!” “I guess when I heard 'Night of Debauchery’… I didn’t picture muffins on your pajamas.” “Honey, you can’t keep throwing people to the pit of pain and despair just because they don’t like choc mint ice cream.” “Oh, no honey, put that back…” “It’s going to be too late, you know. It’s always too late.” “Hey, so, uh… I’m in trouble…” “What did you do this time?” “I got stranded in Wales….. again…” “OK, but… how do we get the dog out of a hole in space in time exactly?” “Aren’t people supposed to grow instead of shrink ?” “Wait. You’re aroused?” “Why would that surprise you?” “It does on account of you being covered in blood. Wipe that smile off your face. You look like a cat in heat.” "I pay your taxes” “No, ____. We did not raise our hamster like this.” “You can’t run from your own shadow(s), what makes you think you can run from theirs?” “You adopted… a dog?” “Mate, that’s not a dog.” “And at this moment, he decided to punch himself in the face.” “Narrator, listen, I know you’ve been with me my whole life, but you’re a huge jerk.” “Why didn’t you tell me it was a portal BEFORE we ended up here?” “Is that…the Mona Lisa.” “…Yes…” “What did I say to you about stealing priceless artifacts!?” “…That I had to take you with me next time.” “Exactly!” “Yes, I agree, magic is pretty cool. But did you really have to use it for THIS?” “Despite the fact that was epic, you’re still suspended” “Chill, dad it’s not what you think it is!” “Well it looks like you’re making out with the demon your grandma banished to cellar…WHY IS HE IN YOUR ROOM?” “If you truly love me you’ll let me-OH FUCKING HELL DID YOU JUST STAB ME!?” “Spoon” “What began as a conflict over the transfer of consciousness from flesh to machines escalated into a war which has decimated a Million worlds.The ___ and the ___ have all but exhausted the the resources of a galaxy in their struggle for domination. Both sides, now crippled beyond repair, the remnants of their armies continue to battle on ravaged planets, their hatred fueled by over four thousand years of total war. This is a fight to the death. For each side, the only acceptable outcome is…“ ”… I’m going back to bed. You brought it here, you can deal with the mammoth yourself.“ "Is the food supposed to be moving?” “You mean to tell me that in the two minutes I was gone,  you bombed a minor country,  got married to a stripper,  and assassinated a world leader?!” “Is that a unicorn???? EATING MY BEEF JERKY?!” “Do I get to dream about you again tonight?” “Well now I have to change clothes AGAIN!” “All of this was because of a… OF A PLUSHIE?!” “Well…Yeah?” “Great, how are we going to get out of jail now?!” “So…you gonna tell me why my brother is upside down and why you’re wearing my purple thong?” “Did you really have to burn down another Cracker Barrel?” “Sir, that’s impossible, you can’t do that.” “IS THAT A FUCKING CHALLENGE?!?!” “We need to invade Portugal.” “…Sure, why not?” “Did you divide by zero?! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL US ALL” “Stand down, Milady, this is a matter between gentlemen with mustaches.” “Next time you get arrested I am NOT paying your bail” “That’s a lie and you know it.” “….” “I thought you were dead.” “So did I” “John dont flush the dog down the toilet” “What did I say again about resurrecting dictators??” “Cucumbers are NOT pets… what do you mean, you ate him??” “Are you and God seriously fighting right now? And what happened to Satan?” “Are ferrets supposed to be blue??” “I’m the protagonist? Well I guess that explains why I look like about a thousand other people.” “Why do I do this to myself?” “Stop eating your tortilla chips with ketchup. It’s unattractive.” “How do you eat an entire cheese wheel in one sitting?” “Why are God and Satan moving in with us?”

“I know you’re afraid but we can’t hide in this closet forever.” “Nope, I absolutely refuse to touch that.” “How exactly did you manage to get stuck in there?” “Why is it suddenly purple?” “Pass me the sledgehammer.” “Explain it to me again - why do we need to pretend to be married?” “In my defense, I thought this would go a lot more smoothly.” “I don’t know how you get yourself into these situations.” “Careful, don’t drop – “ “And that’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve.” “It’s sticky.” “You need to stop.” “Well that’s the single most impressive thing I’ve ever seen someone do.” “What’s with the pigtails?” “How have you made it this long without someone throwing you out an airlock or something?” “Ow, what was that for?” “Ugh, why did I eat that?” “In my defense, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.” “Run!” “Come on, give me one good reason not to jump in the lake.” “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave like 5 minutes ago.” “What do you mean by leaving?” “I’m trying very hard not to see all this as a metaphor for my life.” “Please tell me you know how to defuse a bomb.” “Where have you been, I was ready to call the police!” “No, the house is definitely not haunted, why do you ask?” “Get over here now and bring a tarp.” “I don’t care that it’s 2:00 am, we need pie.” “I’ve got everything under control.” “At this point, what else could possibly go wrong?”

“I just really need to have you here right now.” “Didn’t you see what I did?!” “Oh fuck, oh FUCK.” “Please come get me.” “Where are you?!” “I’m coming, just sit tight!” “Look at me - just breathe, okay?” “I can’t breathe!” “You don’t have to stay.” “It’s all my fault.” “It’s all YOUR fault!” “Don’t fucking touch me.” “Please I just… really need space right now.” “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” “I’m gonna be sick.” “Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you… ?” “I’m sick of being USELESS.” “You’re not useless.” “Shit, are you bleeding?!” “Please, put it DOWN.” “Shh, c’mere…” “It’s okay to cry…” “Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them.” “I’m not cut out for this.” “Just leave me ALONE.” “Please listen to me-” “You can trust me.” “Don’t trust me.” “What happened doesn’t change anything.”

“Come over here and make me.” “Have you lost your damn mind!?” “Please, don’t leave.” “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” “I almost lost you.” “Wanna bet?” “Don’t you ever do that again!” “Teach me how to play?” “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!” “I think we need to talk.” “Kiss me.” “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” “So, I found this waterfall…” “It could be worse.” “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.” “The paint’s supposed to go where?” “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” “Just once.” “You’re the only one I trust to do this.” “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” “I got you a present.” “I’m pregnant.” “Marry me?” “I thought you were dead.” “It’s not what it looks like…” “You lied to me.” “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” “Please don’t do this.” “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.” “You heard me. Take. It. Off.” “I wish I could hate you.” “Wanna dance?” “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” “Hey! I was gonna eat that!” “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” “You did all of this for me?” “I swear it was an accident.” “YOU DID WHAT?!” “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” “Tell me a secret.” “Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.” “No one needs to know.” “Boo.” “Well this is awkward…”

51. “What the hell are you wearing?” 52. “Can I kiss you?” 53. “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!” 54. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.” 55. “Our first date is a picnic on a beach under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?” 56. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” 57. “Teach me to fight.” 58. “I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts.” 59. “Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay I’ll never leave you again.” 60. “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…” 61. “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.” 62. “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” 63. “Stop running from this. I know I’m not the only one who feels it.” 64. “Are you ticklish?” 65. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” 66. “The only thing I want is you.” 67. “Of all the people I could’ve gotten stuck in an elevator with and it just had to be you.” 68. “PILLOW FIGHT!” 69. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?” 70. “You’re so beautiful.” 71. “Kiss me, quick!” 72. “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.” 73. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 74. “Don’t let go.” 75. “I’m going for a swim. Do you wanna join me?” 76. “I need you to pretend we’re dating…” 77. “There was never a choice.” 78. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” 79. “That’s the third time I’ve saved your life!” 80. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?” 81. “I need you to leave.” 82. “This is all your fault! I can’t believe I listened to you!” 83. “It’s always been you.” 84. “I’m dying.” 85. “I will never apologize for saving your life, even if it costs me my own.” 86. “I guess dying with you isn’t the worse way to go.” 87. “You were never just my friend.” 88. “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” 89. “I’m not leaving you!” 90. “I can’t do this anymore.” 91. “I remember everything.” 92. “What do you want me to say?” 93. “I tried, but I just can’t stay away from you anymore.” 94. “I bet I can make you scream my name.” 95. “There’s no going back if we do this.” 96. “I never thought you’d hurt me but I was wrong. You hurt me the most.” 97. “I want you and I know you want me too.” 98. “I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.” 99. “We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”

“Tell me who did this to you”

2. “I’m sure this bathroom has seen worse.”

3. “Don’t you think I tried that? It won’t come off!”

4. “Please, I need you to wake up.”

5. “Look. If I couldn’t open it, then there’s no way you can.”

6. “It was a really nice thought, but all I wanted was dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets.”

7. “Don’t worry. I’ll be watching the whole time.”

8. “That looks amazing on you.”

9. “So there I am, spread eagle with whipped cream on my tits, and the asshole actually stops to ask whether or not it’s organic!”

10. “That’s definitely not mine.”

11. “It’s your fault really. You should have known better than to leave me in charge of the cake.”

12. “I know they say violence isn’t the answer, but I’d really like to test that theory out right now.”

13. “I hope you understand that this is mine now.”

14. “You were the one who walked out. Not me.”

15. “You know, I thought it was going to be too big when I first saw it, but now I really like it.”

16. “Do you want my coffee? They screwed up my order.”

17. “I don’t care how sexy it is when you talk like that. It’s not helping.”

18. “Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep! The meteor shower is just starting!”

19. “I trusted you. They told me not to, but I did, and now this is what I get.”

20. “You smoke?!”

21. “Look, there are a lot of things I said while drunk, but I really did mean that.”

22. “Just…just let me catch my breath.”

23. “When are you going to realize that I will always come back for you?”

24. “I don’t think it’s going to rain.”

25. “Give me a name.”

26. “I dance like a drunk chicken and I am okay with that. You should be too.”

27. “I’m not sure which god I pissed off, but I know for a fact that I am cursed.”

28. “Just…I don’t know! Put a towel over it. No one will notice.”

29. “Listen here, asshole. This one’s mine.”

Are you wearing lace underwear? “What do you mean there is a body in our cellar?!” “Take off your shirt.” “If you ever do that again - I’m going to kill you!” “Stop playing a hero and let me help!” “I can’t believe I married you.” “I’m going to warn you once…” “I’m not an expert, but I think you should try that again.” “Don’t tell me what to do.” “I love you and I hate you, can you see my struggle?” “I wish I could trust you.” “Um… why are your hands on my ass?” “So, you are saying you tried to save me?” “Stop stealing my food!” “Just come home, okay?” “Please, tell me this is a joke.” ‘I didn’t know how to tell you.” “Let me do that.” “You could have died!” ‘We are so screwed.” “I did that to protect you!” “Don’t make me do this.” “You are the best I ever had. Don’t leave me.” “I did this for you.” “I trust you.” “I bet my life on you.” “Is there anything you want to tell me?” “Shut up and kiss me.” “What have you done!?” “Sorry, I got distracted, come again?” “Please, calm down.” “I failed.” “Please, don’t kill me.” “We need a plan, now!” “I don’t talk to strangers.” “You owe me.” “I’m with you till the end of line.” “You want me what?” “I didn’t know you could sing.” “We’re in this together.”

[buckyismyaesthetic]

Punk (Chap. 8)

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 4284...oops

Warnings: Same as always

A/N: Okay here it is chapter 8.  Let me know if the flow of this chapter is okay, if it makes sense.  I’d like to get a better feel of how I construct scenes so I can improve for the future.  I LOVE feedback, you have no idea.  So don’t be afraid to lemme know how you feel!

Also, there is a line in here with an asterisk (*) after it.  It is a paraphrase from Criminal Minds season 3 episode 8 said by Penelope Garcia to Derek Morgan and it is something that has always stuck with me and I just thought it was so perfect for this chapter.

Perhaps watching Investigation Discovery’s documentary on the world’s most notorious serial killers at one o’clock in the morning while finishing off the leftover apple pie in an essentially deserted tower wasn’t the smartest move.  Every sound was suddenly more sinister and every shadow could be hiding a deranged murderer who wanted nothing more than to chop off your head and keep it in the freezer, which had startled you so badly when it spit out ice cubes into its inner bin that you spilled an entire glass of water on Ferdinand who ran shrieking from the room and knocked over what was probably a very expensive vase. Fuck.

But you’d already fallen into the vortex of twisted true-crime stories and you weren’t likely to surface anytime soon. It was like watching a car crash. But it was a welcome distraction from your train wreck of an evening and took your mind off, however briefly, of the endless ebb and flow of self-loathing thoughts plaguing your mind. So if listening to psychologists throw out theories about psychopaths and narcissists and human behaviour made you forget your own personal problems, then so be it.  Bring on the gore.  

An hour later the pie was gone, you hated yourself and lack of self-control, and both the Zodiac Killer’s and Jack the Ripper’s identities were still unknown.  The thought was unsettling.  How had they gotten away with all that they’d done?  Did they have help?  Hydra, you thought wickedly.  Or the Illuminati…or vampires...Freddy Krueger…Jason Voorhees…Michael Myers…You glanced around the dark, still living room. The others wouldn’t be home until closing time and the nearest person was at least three floors away….you glared around at the shadows…did that book case always look so….shelfy? Was the kitchen clock always so...aggressive?  Tick!…tock…tick!…tock…

The faint sound of the elevator door opening had you springing from the couch, knocking the empty pie dish and all of its crumbs onto the carpet with a clang, and diving to the floor.  Some brave Avenger you were.  “Pssst, F.R.I.D.A.Y?!” why you were whisper-shouting was beyond you. “Is there a murderer in the building?”

“Several highly- trained assassins, including yourself, currently call this tower home,” the A.I. responded...AT A NORMAL FREAKING VOLUME! Great, now the murderer knows I’m here! Tony couldn't make a stealth-bot, could he?  Something that understood the subtleties of surviving a serial killer!

Ok that might have been a tad dramatic. “Hey!  I’m not an assassin! I’m an Avenger!  It’s different!” you hissed.  “I’m not, like, a serial killer,” you grumbled.

“Serial killer is such an ugly term.  I was a specialized weapon and not by choice might I add.” Bucky’s soft, sarcastic voice came from behind you causing you to yelp and jump nearly a foot in the air.  

“Oh my god, you scared the shit outta me!”  Your hand was on your heart as it jackhammered against your sternum, something you were fairly certain Bucky could hear even from ten feet away.

Bucky laughed and flipped on the light, bathing the room in a soft, yellow glow.  Immediately, you threw yourself back on the couch and grabbed the soft, plush blanket you’d been using as a shield during your murder stories.  Hopefully, if you tucked the edges around your face at just the right angles, he wouldn’t notice your red, puffy eyes and runny makeup. But you’d avoid making eye contact just for good measure.  And, for the first time since you’d met him, you wished he’d go away.  Bucky Barnes was not someone you wanted to see anymore of tonight.

“What’re you doin’ home?” Your voice was muffled like you have a bad head cold and you cringed, hoping he’ll just think you’re tired rather than you’d spent the better part of the evening blubbering uncontrollably.

Bucky shrugged, leaning against the wall.  “Didn’t feel up to it anymore.  What’re you doin’ here?  They uh, they said you left with uh, some guy.”

The uncertainty in Bucky’s voice caught your attention and your head whipped away from the television to look at him.  Why was he making that face? He looked like he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.  “They said you left with some guy.”  A wave of anger bubbled up.  What, like it was so preposterous?!  You felt your brow furrow and upper lip curl at the thought.

You nod curtly.  “Yeah.  I did.” Technically it was the truth.  You had walked out of the club with a man.

Bucky cleared his throat.  “He here?” He looks around for any sign of company; taking in the discarded pie tin and your change in attire since he’d seen you a few hours earlier.  Your jaw clenched in anger.  Thanks for the reminder, Buck, that no, you were not the only man to be repulsed by me this evening and yeah, I ate all the fuckin’ pie, so back off!

Why was he even asking you these questions? Clearly, he already couldn't imagine a male specimen being remotely interested in you.  So what?  He wanted confirmation or something?  Did he need to hear it to actually get some fucking closure?  Is that what he wanted?  Your confirmation that, no, no man in his right mind would ever want to get involved with you?  Fine, then he could have it.  “No,” your voice was laced with underlying anger.  “He’s not here.”

Bucky nodded and locked eyes with you, taking in the red, puffy lids, before you turned away again.  If you looked at him too long, the mixture of sad, angry tears would return as you faced the truth that someone who looked like that would never want someone who looked like you. “He didn’t try anything?...Did he?”

And you fucking lost it.

“Excuse me?”  He’d sounded if the mere notion of a man coming home with you was simply unbearable to think about.  Really?  It’s that implausible?!  An anger you hadn’t known existed welled up inside.  It was as if your heart, engulfed in flames, was pumping out waves of white hot rage through every vein.  You pushed yourself up from the couch and faced Bucky like an angry tiger poised to strike.  Never in a million years did you think you would look at Bucky like this.   You’re fists were clenched painfully and your teeth were bared as you snarled, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Bucky had the decency to look afraid.  His glacial blue eyes widened as he pushed off from the wall and stepped closer to you, hands held up in defense. “Wh-what—I d—”

“No, explain to me what the fuck that’s supposed ta mean!”  Your roar had stopped him in his tracks as you trembled with rage. But the dam had broken, letting all the pain and anger you had been holding in, all of the fears and insecurities you'd been holding on to, come tumbling out.  “What, so no one could ever wanna try somethin’ with me?!  Is that it?!  That I’m not worth it? Not good enough?  Huh?!  Is it that farfetched an’ ridiculous ta think that someone could ever wanna have sex with me?!”  

“No!  No, that’s not what I—”  Bucky sputtered in horror but you cut him off, erupting like Mount Vesuvius.  Your rage raining down around the once peaceful living room.  

“No no no, go ahead! Explain it to me,” you challenged, throwing your hands in the air.  “Tell me what you really think!  That nobody could possibly want someone who looks like me!  Maybe you wouldn’t stoop so low as ta give me a second look but that doesn’t mean that someone less superficial wouldn’t*!  Just because you’re perfect doesn’t mean that everyone who isn’t doesn’t deserve to be liked in some way!”  Your voice broke a little at the end and the fact that Bucky just stood there, hands covering his mouth slightly, looking completely shocked, did nothing to quell your fury.

“I—I didn’t—what I—”

But you were beyond listening to him.  Your rage wasn’t over.  And even if you knew logically that it really wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t attracted to you, that people like who they like, the fact that Bucky, your best friend Bucky, the man you loved whole-heartedly, body and soul, didn’t find you attractive in any way, shape, or form, well, that shattered your heart into a million little pieces.  And that made you fucking furious.

And as hurt as you were that Bucky wasn’t interested and that he thought you so abhorrent that you could never manage to snag a man, you were mostly angry at yourself for even liking Bucky in the first place!  It was ridiculous to have allowed yourself to fall so completely for someone like him. And forget what he looked like—He was a fucking superhero for fuck’s sake!  He saved the world!  He protected the weak and injured and innocent. He sacrificed his life, his sanity, for his country.  He fought back against his tormenters.  He fell apart and picked himself back up again after all he was forced to do and had the goddamn nerve to beg for forgiveness for crimes he had no responsibility over.  Bucky Barnes was a goddamn treasure.  Who the fuck did you think you were to covet it?

You were a complete moron and, in fact, you were so goddamn enraged with yourself that you had begun to both cry and laugh humorously at the same time.  It was as if you no longer had any control of your emotions.  It was fucking laughable!  This whole thing was entirely ridiculous!  The tears began to flow freely as you realized what a complete joke your life was at this point.  

Everything leading up to this horrific moment was your fault and yours alone.   It all could’ve been avoided if you had just kept your mouth shut and went back to your dorky, pathetic, loveless existence.  Then you would still have Bucky’s friendship, your money, and whatever fucking dignity you possessed in the first place.  But that was all out the window now!  Now you were destroying it all.

“And to think I did all of this stupid shit just to—to get you to—and you didn’t even notice!”  You laughed darkly at your own stupidity.  “All this effort, and money and time, and for what?  Nothing!”

Bucky pressed his hands through his hair, completely bewildered at the scene before him, when he stopped short.  “What?” His eyebrows knitted and the colour drained from his face. “What’re you—what’d’you mean?” His voice was but a whisper. It annoyed you.  What’d’you mean ‘what’d’you mean?’?!  

You rolled your eyes obnoxiously.  “I mean that I’m a fucking idiot for thinking that a dress and some makeup would make you see me any differently,” you seethed. When he continued to stare at you completely dumbfounded you sighed and quietly added, “I know what kind of girls you like… I saw you the other night…at Luke’s.”

“You were there?”  Bucky stepped forward again, looking at you with wide eyes. His voice was low and serious and he shook his head as he spoke. “You saw-? Look, that wasn’t—”

“You don’t hafta explain.  I was there. I know.”  You stepped back from him, shaking your head sadly.  Fat tears fell away from your cheeks and rained down to the floor.    “And I’m so stupid.”  Your voice cracked with emotion and you took in a shaky breath before continuing.  “I did all of this, the hair and makeup and clothes, but I can’t compete with girls like that.”  There it was.  Out in the open.  You’d finally admitted the truth; you weren’t good enough, attractive enough, for Bucky.

And when he just continued to stare at you, looking more and more horrified at your confessions, another wave of tears spilled over, choking your voice even more.  “Who was I kidding!?  I must’ve been out of my goddamn mind to think that all of this would work.  That you’d actually–”

It was Bucky’s turn to interrupt you.  He waved his arms to stop you and, with a voice filled with complete and utter bewilderment, “A—are you saying that this was all for me?  Why? Why would—”

You couldn't bare this.   Your face screwed up to stop more sobs from escaping; your chin trembled with the effort. It was too much.  Actually having to stand there and listen to Bucky’s rejection, to his horror at your crush, no.  That was too much.  The look on his face, the shock, it was like a knife had been plunged into your heart. He’d had no idea how you felt. And now he was completely thrown, absolutely stunned.   Your anger surged once again.  Was it really so foreign for him to think that you could actually like him?  Or that anyone could like you?

“Why would you fall for it?” you asked, finishing his question for him.  “I’ve been asking myself that all night because clearly it didn’t work!” you cried causing Bucky’s mouth to drop open.  “Congrats, you can’t be fooled!  Apparently just because Y/N tries to dress like a girl, doesn’t mean she is one!  To think for a second you'd see anything other than a reject, a whale, in a dress…” you shook your head dejectedly. “What was I thinking?”

“I—I just—”

“And to top it all off, you were right!  Ethan isn’t here!”  You laughed wetly as the endless river of tears fell.  You displayed your arms widely as you spoke. “He didn’t want to come home with me. Why the hell would he, right? Look at me!  No no no, it was just another delusional fantasy of mine.  To think that I could actually get a guy to be attracted to me in some way, oh my god, it’s fucking laughable, right?!  So let’s all take a moment and bask in your wonderful ability to be see the fucking future and come home to find me all alone, just as you expected.”  Three sharp claps sounded around the living room, making Bucky wince.  “Happy?” you demanded.

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand.  His eyes welled up and his lower lip was shaking ever so slightly.  “No, no, Punk, you’ve got it all wrong, that’s not what—”

“STOP FUCKING CALLING ME THAT!”  You ripped your arm away from his grasp, causing Bucky to freeze, his arm still out stretched towards you.  You’d never pulled away like that before.

His lips gaped open like a fish as he searched for something to say.  You, on the other hand, were panting heavily as if you’d just run a mile.  Hastily, you used your shirt collar to dab at the steady stream of tears.  

It was certainly a night of new territory for you two. Not once had you ever mentioned how you felt about that particular nickname.  That every time he called you that you felt a little part of your heart breakaway, shrivel up, and die like a flower dropping petals as the seasons change. No, you’d just responded when he said it, your head turning in his direction, knowing it was you he was talking to as less and less frequently the term was directed towards Steve.  You were the punk.  Just you.

Bucky cleared his throat and swallowed hard, pursing his lips.  “Y/N, I—I don’t…” He stopped to clear his throat again and rapidly blinked his glassy eyes.

“Just forget it, Barnes.”

“Barnes?  Barnes?”  Taken aback by the use of his last name, Bucky sounded both hurt and offended.  You’d never called him anything but some shortened form of ‘Bucky’, something that was always laced with affection.   “You never call me—”

“Well, it’s a helluva lot better than being someone’s punk, don’t ya think?” you snapped.  “I looked it up.  I know what I mean to you.  And I am fucking sick of it.  I’ve never felt so fucking stupid in my entire life.  Here I am pining after you, praying to gods I don’t believe in that you’ll feel the same way when all you see is this—this disgusting, thing and I—I can’t—I can’t take it anymore.”

“No, Y/N, just—just let me explain,” Bucky begged moving towards you again, but with each step closer he took, the more you backed away, making his face twist in an unrecognizable expression. Each breath felt like a thousand razor blades scraping against your lungs.  Was this heartbreak?  Or humiliation?  Or was it something more?  Whatever it was, it was unbearable.

“That’s the thing,” you whispered.  “You don’t hafta explain anything.  I get it.  I already know.  You’ve made it painfully clear.”  A loud sob racked through you causing your whole body to shake.  You couldn't meet Bucky’s eyes anymore.  It hurt too much.  You weren’t afraid to see hate there.  No, Bucky didn’t hate you, not even after all of this.  But you knew you'd find pity there.  Pity for the poor, pudgy, pathetic, punk that was in love with a man so obviously out of her league.  

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the ensuing silence. What you were sorry for you weren’t quite sure.  For making a scene?  For ruining a friendship? For taking your self-hatred and insecurities out on an innocent bystander?  For shouting at Bucky for not feeling the same way?  For falling in love with him in the first place?  

Or were you sorry for being ugly and fat and embarrassing? Or for being terrible at being a girl?  

Probably all of it.  

Yeah, all of it.

A hot wave of embarrassment hit as your mind, at lightning speed, ran through all that had transpired since Bucky had walked in on your mini television marathon.  The anger had all but drained away and was rapidly being replaced with mortification at your words and actions.  Had you really just spilled your guts to Bucky?  Did you actually reveal your feelings?  Oh god, you’d told him all of your insecurities.  Admitted your embarrassing and failed attempts to seduce him.  Panic, hot and intense, surged up, triggering your fight-or-flight response.  

And you gave in.

And you ran.

“Y/N, wait! Don’t leave!  Please don’t leave,” Bucky called.  

You could hear his footfalls behind you, but instead of bolting for the once safe haven that was your room, you turned down the long hall, and shouted for F.R.I.D.A.Y to shut the elevator doors the moment you set foot in it.  Turning as the doors closed, you saw Bucky running towards you.  He was shouting for you to stop.  But he reached the doors too late and collided into them with the thud of metal on metal as they sealed you away.

The last thing you heard was the strangled cry of your name as the elevator descended deeper into the tower.

                                                       ***

 Please be here. Please be here.  The elevator doors couldn't open fast enough.  Each racking sob at what has just happened upstairs threatened to break you apart.  Almost on autopilot you found yourself knocking loudly on the door, making it rattle in the frame.  Please, please be home.

 A sleepy, bleary eyed Clint Barton ripped the door open, ready to rage at the dipshit who had the nerve to wake him up when he had to leave at the ass crack of dawn for a mission he was less than thrilled to go on.  “What the fu—?”

He stopped short to see you standing there, sobbing uncontrollably, in the dead of night.  

“I’m s-sorry.  I’m s-so- s-sorry,” you hiccoughed, trying to sign to him at the same time, before noticing that he’d shoved at least one hearing aid in before answering the door.  She’s not here,  she’s not home yet. “I-I thought Nat w-would—and you hafta go soon—I’m—I’m ”

Clint’s arm shot forward and pulled you roughly to his chest and into Natasha’s room closing the door behind you.  “Stop, that doesn’t matter.  What happened?  What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”  His hands cupped your face and he feverishly looked you up and down for any signs of injury.

You shook your head but continued to blubber letting hot tears fall onto his fingers.  

Clint pulled you to his chest, allowing you to cry onto his t-shirt, and stroked your hair soothingly.  He moved you both to the bed where he laid with you in his arms. “Talk to me, kid.  What happened?”

And you spilled your guts about everything. About recruiting Nat and Wanda to try to make you pretty, about falling in love with Bucky, about not being thin enough or pretty enough or womanly enough for him.  And you told him how much you hated every single thing about yourself because it just wasn’t right or normal or cool.  And then you sputtered unintelligibly for a while because it all sounded so unbelievably stupid when you said it out loud.

“Shh, Y/N, it’s okay.  It’s gonna be okay,” Clint whispered, kissing your hair.

“No, it’s not,” you wailed, your voice muffled against his chest.  You sniffed loudly.  “I ru-ruined ev-everyth-thing.”  As you retold the events of the evening, both at the club and in the living room, Clint let you sob without interruption.  His hands rubbed up and down your back as you shook in his arms.

“Why doesn’t anyone like me?” Clint’s heart clenched sharply at your words.  “Why doesn’t he like me? I—I just want t-to be pretty.  Why can’t I be pretty?”  

“Y/N, are you kiddin’ me?  You’re beautiful,” Clint whispered against your hair.  These confessions of yours had come to a complete shock to him.  But your revelations about what you really thought about yourself made him angry.  How could you think these things?  Why did you think these things?  How could you make him see what to him is so obvious?

Ignoring his proclamations, you cried harder, your frame shaking the whole bed as you curled against his side, fists curled in his shirt as a pain you’d never before experienced fell over you.  And the only thing you could do was ride it out.

When you were done, when you’d exhausted both the story and your body, when you were all used up and were completely void of tears, when every emotion had finally poured its way out of you, you fell silent against him.  Clint stroked your back absently and it wasn’t until your breathing had slowed and evened out that he realised that you’d fallen asleep against him.

Sometime later the door creaked open and Nat wandered in, shoes in hand.  She let her dress pool at her feet as she slipped into one of Clint’s t-shirts and crawled into bed behind you.  The dip in the bed pulled Clint out of his sleep and he squinted around in the darkness. Nat flicked a small nightlight on.

‘Hi, baby,’ she signed to him.  ’What’s Y/N doing here? Everything okay?’  Her brow furrowed in concern.

Clint sat up slightly with a yawn, gently placing you back on the pillow.  Once he tucked the hearing aids in snuggly he relayed in a sleepy whisper what you’d told him.  Nat remained silent, her expression growing graver with each passing moment.  She’d begun combing her fingers carefully through your hair as Clint spoke.    Your eye lids were red and puffed up from crying and roughly wiping away the tears with your hand.  Even in sleep Natasha could see that you weren't peaceful.

Her gaze moved from your tired form to her boyfriend. He looked so dejected.  One of his hands was still wrapped around you but the other had found Natasha’s.  He gripped her fingers tightly, rubbing a thumb against the soft skin on the back of her hand.   Nat smiled and brought his fingers to her lips, leaving a soft kiss there.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Nat mumbled against his skin, her voice flowing with love and gratitude.

Clint smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “I’ll always take care of her.  I’ll take care of the both of you.  Don’t ever thank me for that,” he whispered.

Nat nodded and whispered, “I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you.” When she rolled her eyes in denial at the proclamation Clint chuckled softly.  The movement caused you to stir and you rolled over to face Natasha. Sleepily, you opened your eyes which were still sticky with half-dried tears.  “Nat,” you croaked.  “I—I’m sorry, an—and Clint’s le-leavi—”

She shushed you and snuggled closer, tucking your head under her chin, effectively cutting off an unnecessary apology. Clint moved closer behind you and you felt the two lovers joined hands resting on your back.  Nat’s other hand was still stroking your hair as she whispered kind words and your blubbering ceased to silent tears falling on the pillow. Nat kissed your forehead softly.

Clint’s low voice vibrated through your back.  “It’s okay, kiddo.  Everything will be okay.”  You murmured softly at his words as sleep claimed you once again in the warmth of their arms.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Why?”  

Natasha didn’t have to ask him to clarify.  She knew exactly what he was asking.  Why did you think those things?  Why did you, a lovely, beautiful woman, think you were so repulsive? Why didn’t you see what he saw, what Nat saw, what everybody else saw?  Why didn’t you believe them?

“I dunno.  I don’t understand it either,” she replied glumly.  

“I hate it.”

“Me too, baby.  Me too.”

And like that, hands clasped tightly, holding the broken girl together between them, they drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

TAG LIST:  You know how much tumblr annoys me with its tag issues. 

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[aether-asterisk]

Escape from Camp Funtasia Chapter 4: Best Day Ever

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and now, the weekly fanfic update

Thankfully, everyone was able to get a good night's sleep, and they all started to wake up little by little by about 8:45 AM.

The bus supervisor, a younger woman wearing a bright-blue t-shirt that said "I <3 CF" on it in bright red letters, approached the four stowaways, Ollie being the only one that was fully awake. She had curly blonde hair with a neon pink-to-purple streak on one side, and a neon blue-to-green streak on the other. "Say, I don't remember us picking up you four. Mind telling me your names?" "O-oh, um," Ollie stammered, not expecting to be interrogated by a member of the Funtasia Crew in such a matter, "M-my name is Ollie, and these are Sophie, Nate, and Alice. We should be on the list, my mom signed us all up, and--" The woman smiled. "Say no more, little dude. Glad you guys could make it! For a moment there, we thought you flaked on us for some dumb lesser camp." Ollie laughed nervously. "Not by choice, anyway..."

The woman didn't seem to hear him, not that it would've mattered much. "Anyway, I'm Jodie, but you can just call me Jo. We'll be at Camp Funtasia in about an hour, so make yourself comfy and enjoy the ride!" Sophie sat up in her seat and stretched. "Will we be stopping at Watson's Waffle House for breakfast, Miss Jo?" "Why stop at some silly waffle house," Jo giggled, "When you can have a ginormous all-you-can-eat pancake buffet at the camp instead?" Sophie gasped. "With whipped cream?" "Oh yes." A tiny squeal came out of Sophie's mouth. Satisfied, Jo went back to the front of the bus to let the kids talk among themselves.

"Guys...!" Sophie was bouncing in her seat in anticipation, "They've got a pancake buffet!!" "So we heard," Ollie smiled as he unzipped his suitcase and pulled out his phone. "I feel like I should text my mom and let her know we made it to Camp Funtasia after all, but at the same time she might freak out that we ditched Wallahavanna..." "Man, she didn't even wanna send us to Wallahavanna in the first place! Why would she be mad?!" Nate pulled out his gaming system. "When you're done with that, I'm gonna set up a multiplayer battle. Feel free to join."

Ollie sighed. "I guess you have a point. I did promise her I'd send a message every so often to let her know we're okay, and there's no way Big Betsy would've even let me send one before confiscating it permanently..." "Realistically, she would've destroyed it as soon as she caught sight of it," Alice finished brushing her hair and grabbed her gaming system. "Huh...That's weird," Ollie held his phone up high curiously, "No signal." Sophie already had her gaming system ready. "Maybe they'll have a wifi hotspot at the camp. Now are you joining or not?!"

Ollie put his phone away and took out his gaming system. "Yeah, maybe you're right. Alright, I'm in."

~*~*~

The bus slowed to a stop in front of a castle that looked exactly like the one in the brochure. The campers cheered and immediately hurried out the door, where a taller man with messy hair awaited them. "Welcome to Camp Funtasia, children," the man grinned from ear to ear, "I am Mr. Funtasia, head-counselor and owner of the camp, but for the next three months, I also hope to be your friend -- Mr. Fun. But enough about me. Children...," The gates behind him opened slowly. Mr. Fun stepped aside. "Your paradise awaits."

All the kids gazed in awe as the gates opened all the way, revealing a giant ferris wheel and other rides off to the sides, various cotton candy machines scattered around the vicinity, and a big fountain with a statue of a tiger on it in the center of the area leading to the building. The paths were colored in bright tye-dye spiral patterns. "Now, children," Mr. Fun stepped inside, with the campers immediately following him, "I know all of this looks tempting, but please do be patient. We have yet to eat breakfast, of course. Follow me to the dining hall and we will begin out morning feast. After you have finished, you are free to roam around the park as you wish." The campers did not hesitate to continue following him into the castle.

"Oh, man, this is gonna be so awesome!" Ollie's eyes darted towards one of the roller coasters. "That one's gotta be like, 70 feet tall!" Sophie's eyes beamed. "Going at 80 miles per hour, too!" Alice rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't recommend stuffing yourself full of pancakes, then. You'll throw up everywhere. Gross, but cool under the right circumstances." The others looked at Alice in disgust and just kept walking.

The main room had a big circular sofa in the middle. Inside the circular couch was a big container of assorted snacks and candy. Around the room were more couches and cushions with various irregular shapes in front of multiple television screens, each one hooked up to its own gaming console on top of a bookcase below the screens. The bookcases were filled with gaming cartridges for each system. In between each screen were hallways that led to different parts of the castle. Mr. Fun straightened his peppermint-striped bowtie. "The dining hall is over this way. Come, children, and leave your bags here. You may come back for them when you are ready to get settled into a bedroom of your choosing."

~*~*~

The sun rose over Camp Wallahavanna. A speaker posted next to one of the cabins boomed all throughout the campsite. "Attention, campers, It's time to wake up. Please report to the mess hall for breakfast. Today's specials are..."

Big Betsy slammed open the front door of the counselor building and stormed over to one of the cabins for morning roll-call. "I just know one of those little punks tried to escape me, we'll see about that..." The first cabin she went to was Ollie's cabin, and she tore the door off its hinges and threw it behind her, hitting one of the campers on their way to the mess hall as instructed. She stomped toward one of the beds and vigorously shook the figure occupying the bed. "WAKE UP, YOU LITTLE RAT! IT'S TIME FOR BREAKFAST, AND SO HELP ME--" The figure revealed itself to be a holographic image of Sophie sleeping, which immediately disappeared as Betsy went to slap it awake.

Without a second thought, she ran back to the counselor building and snatched the intercom from one of the counselor's desks and pushed him off his chair. "ATTENTION ALL STAFF: WE HAVE FOUR RUNAWAYS AT LARGE. FIRST ONE OF YOU SORRY EXCUSES OF CHAPERONES TO ROUND 'EM UP GETS AN EXTRA FIVE MINUTES ON YOUR BREAK TIME. NOW MOVE IT!!!"

An alarm sounded as the counselors scrambled all over the campsite in a frenzy. Betsy watched on from the window with fire in her eyes.

"Those little punks aren't getting away. Nobody messes with Big Betsy."

~*~*~

After a long day of excitement, roller coaster rides and several counts of vomiting, the clock eventually struck 10:00 PM -- time for everyone to retire to their rooms and rest.

Ollie came out of the bathroom that was connected to both his and Nate's room and Sophie and Alice's room, with another door in between the two rooms. "Boy, have you guys seen this bathroom yet? There's fancy hotel-soaps and one of those fancy toilets that squirts back up at you! It's amazing." Sophie was sitting on her bed, brushing her hair. "I still can't believe you ate all that pizza and barfed it out on The Whiplash in that one kid's face!" "Yeah, I probably shouldnt've sat up front...Poor guy. I feel bad that it made HIM throw up, too." "Literally everyone threw up. It was still pretty cool, though," Alice piped up from her bed, reading a book on the study of dreams. Ollie chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess it was. I'm just glad I didn't get in trouble for it."

Nate, sitting on the bed next to Ollie's, stretched one of his legs out and pulled on a sock. "Hey, you heard the man. That stuff happens all the time. As long as we're havin' fun, y'know?" "Yup," Ollie laid down in his bedand tucked himself in. "And we get to do it all again tomorrow." "...Even the pancake buffet," Nate sighed. "Especially the pancake buffet," Sophie smiled.

"...Well, good night, guys," Ollie reached for the light and flicked it off.