#usually involves thrashing/talking/yelling in your sleep

[pfffsfic]

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 11: Bob

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It was as if the layers of sleep deprivation and bodily fatigue were stripped away from him all at once. No, that wasn't right- he was being stripped away from them, not the other way around. First came relief, and then came the realization that he hadn't for one moment been fully awake since he arrived on the first morning. Looking down at his body, which was thrashing around violently and baring its gums at the behest of its temporary occupant, he thought, 'geez, I look awful' (not that he looked much different from usual.) It was quite the hit to his self esteem (not that his self esteem had too many hit points.)

"Who the heck are you?" said Bill in his own voice, and then he backtracked and realized that he had promised he'd only ever say that once in ten billion lifetimes. "...I think I must have hit my head, 'cause I don't remember jack! Woah! I'm suddenly getting the urge to stab a hot poker into my eye! Heh heh, weird. Untie my hands so I can go and do that, would you?"

Sarah kept smiling that same unsettling smile. Rob wondered if anyone would have untied him after hearing that request, and considered for a moment if Bill was playing inscrutable 5D chess or if he truly was floundering for the right words and saying whatever came to mind. Just then, Bill turned his head at an unsettling angle and looked right up at Rob.

"So you think you're pretty clever, huh?"

He pretended not to hear him.

"You forgot I'm not stuck here! I can go whenever I want!" he yelled (or said- his volume was always an issue).

"And void the contract?" Sarah asked, leaning uncomfortably close to Bill's face.

"Huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "What do you know about the contract?"

"I know lots of things," she replied with an audible satisfaction in her voice. That was- no, impossible, Bill thought. Could that seriously have been some kind of coincidence? Who was this? He had to look at Rob's memories, and he had to do it now. But the 'before' memories or the 'after' memories? He was great at chess, he was, but they were playing checkers. He was good at checkers, too, mind you, but they had the checkers pieces on the chess board even though tournament rules should forbid them from bringing in pieces for other games- ah, this metaphor was tearing at the seams! Why couldn't it be as simple as them being his pawns? In his mind, the metaphorical chessboard grew orifices and them turned inside out and digested itself.

"I'll find another pawn," he said to Rob, referring partially to the metaphorical situation. "You think you're valuable? Needed? Don't make me laugh! Ahahaha! Too late, i'm already laughing!"

Sarah kept on smiling down.

"Do you have a twin?" she asked.

"W-what? Uh, like I said, I'm kind of an amnesiac right now! And having hallucinations- hey, uh, what's my name?"

He narrowed his eye, dreading the answer that was about to come out of her mouth. She would say Rob, right? It would be so much simpler if she said-

"What's your name? Do you mean your name or his name? Oh, sorry, I mean, do you want me to say Rob's name or your name? Rob's name is Rob."

"I-"

"Your name is Bill! Isn't it?"

He yelled in frustration and Rob thought that, even if for just a moment, Bill passed perfectly for him, a deeply unsettling realization.

"Okay, I'm taking that as a yes."

She passed a hand over her face and switched effortlessly into a scowl, leaning over him like this was some sort of bizarre horizontal police interrogation.

"Alright, slick," she said in a gruff tone, "You better get talking. Did you ever have any siblings? What were your parents like? Were you ever a baby or did you pop out fully grown? And did you have the hat and tie when you were born or did you get them later?"

This situation would have been hilarious if he wasn't one of the people involved.

"...Wouldn't it be silly if I broke your friend's wrists to get out of these ropes?" he said through an insincere, face-splitting smile.

That shut them up! Finally, some fear! Priceless. All he had to do was get rid of those pesky human inhibitions and yank real hard, now! But, wait, how would he break into the Mystery Shack with no hands? How would he try and pour something spicy into his eye with no hands? How would he do anything at all with no hands? On the bright side, neither of them had treated that like a bluff. That was good. Maybe he would just break Rob's wrists and leave the body for the look on their faces alone. There were other pawns- this had all been one big detour in his plan, to begin with. He had to focus on getting out of the-

Oh, right. Oh, right. The Nightmare Realm. The one that this kid had gotten into and then out of into the third dimension. The whole reason he had even taken interest in Rob and his many mysteries. It was time to take a look- and he knew this was the right choice- it was time to take a look at Rob's memories from before he arrived here. Unknowingly casting aside the chance at knowledge of his eventual defeat and how to avoid it, he made his choice and closed his eye.

"Wait, no! Don't put me back!" said Rob's mindscape form as he was pulled towards the body, a first in all of Bill's many centuries of interacting with humans. His pleas were ineffective and Bill brought both of them into a dreamless sleep, where he cracked his knuckles and prepared for the gargantuan task of sorting through the cyclops' memories. What would the boy's mind look like? A quaint childhood home? A lawless desert island? Some sort of polygonal Picasso dimension?

He saw all three, sort of. In front of him was TV static as far as the eye could see, surrounded by black borders above and below, marred with floating islands that held fully-intact buildings- houses. A mall. A school. A junkyard. A forest (though the entrance to that one had a sign reading 'NO BILL ALLOWED', which meant it had to have been Rob's post-arrival memories.) Hovering in the top left corner of his field of vision regardless of where he turned was a pause symbol, as if he was looking not at a dreamscape but at a television screen containing one.

There was a wall of light in the distance beyond which all of the islands looked unfinished, like storyboard drawings. Past those were simple sticky notes and then nothingness- the furthest extent of Rob's memories, no doubt. Dreamscapes were never linear or easy to navigate, but with time he could definitely piece together an understandable story. It was just a matter of picking a starting place. And where better to start than the nearest building to him- a mall?

-

The mall was dark and cold. Gone was the crowd that had been a constant presence since the first day of the apocalypse, gone was the frenetic atmosphere. No one was here. Maybe the fighters had been sent through the ceiling and all of the spectators had followed them out to wherever they had landed? Sure, maybe. Either way, hoping that this was temporary, he took up his usual spot in the car park and waited for business that took several hours to arrive. The sound of footsteps approaching was such a relief that he forgot about his mystery man act entirely for a moment.

"Oh, Harold," he said. "Ah! I mean, what may my establishment do for you?"

"You will refer to me as Mayor Wilson."

"...Since when does this place have a mayor?"

"Since the Order Order reestablished order in Eastmore."

"The what? I've been gone for five hours, how much could have changed?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked-"

"Actually, I'd rather not know."

He cleared his throat and began to answer anyways.

"The unruly atmosphere needed to be quashed lest this town tear itself apart. I and several like-minded colleagues put together a new order for order, the Order Order, in opposition to the Chaos Order, which currently occupies the territory of-" he shuddered- "Westmore."

"Westmore?"

'Mayor Wilson' stood at one of the broken car park windows and the van reluctantly followed. Sure enough, there was now a fence with plenty of police tape at the parallel edges of a few floating islands, beyond which almost every building was on fire and distant figures yelled and screamed near-profanities.

"Oh," said the driver. "So you're preventing this town from being torn apart... by dividing it in half?"

"Precisely! Ah, and if you intend to do business in Eastmore, you need to know we've reestablished a stable currency around here. No more 'anything goes'."

"How'd you convince people to adopt one?"

"With money," he said, proudly putting his hands on his hips and then quietly, quickly speaking under his breath, "andthethreatofviolence."

"Sorry?"

"Ahem! Nothing, nothing, my friend. Now, the new currency is Pogs. They told me my collection would never be valuable, but look at who's laughing now! Oh ho, it's me. I'll take one can of caviar." He emptied three wallets full of the aforementioned things through the window and onto the driver's lap before he could even protest.

"I don't have any caviar in stock."

"...Hm. Well, then, give me the closest thing you have, and by royal decree, you shall fetch some next time you stock up."

"Royal decree? You're a mayor!"

"A mayor whose territory you are parked in. I have supreme authority to boot your vehicle, sir, and all the Pogs I need to get it done!"

"I'm going to Westmore," said the driver, revving up and plunging through the window, but not before he grabbed a few food items from the back and knocked Harold down like a bowling pin with a well-placed breakfast burrito to the face.

-

The mall was full of light. The windows betrayed no signs of the TV static world outside, though the clouds in the sky were frozen in place and the pause symbol loomed where it has been from the start. There were beings here, also frozen- blob people, food people, shape people (who Bill found oddly familiar). All of their faces were missing, covered up by dripping static ooze. One figure, being dragged into a static door in the center of the hall, was entirely obscured by the ooze- why just him? Bill thought the figure might have been Rob himself, but after a while he noticed that there was a Rob here, too, not too far from the door, also perfectly frozen. This was a snapshot of a memory.

Entering an unmanned video store, he encountered more obscured figures and flipped through the DVDs on sale, each one a memory that popped up on the TV behind the counter as soon as he opened the case. They all seemed to be of various sorts of traps, but none of them went past one still frame. Weird- were this guy's memories really so bad that they were just still pictures? Or-

Bill glanced up at the pause button in the corner, narrowed his eye, and left the video store to look for the nearest TV remote, which he found without much fanfare in memory-Rob's frozen hand. Sure enough, the world sprung to life after a single press! But things were still perfectly silent. Before Bill could adjust the volume, memory-Rob chucked the remote into the static door, which he promptly closed. He would have found a way to follow it in if a wall of credits hadn't suddenly started rolling. Unable to access the rest of the memories in the mall, he decided he'd return later and popped right back out into the dreamscape proper, making a mental note that Rob had a lot of traps in his repertoire. That told him absolutely nothing important.

Next up was the school.

The student body painted just as chaotic an image of the boy's home dimension as the mall patrons had. It seemed at first that Rob wasn't actually present in any of the various school-centered memories until Bill noticed the consistent presence of a grotesque (in his rather hypocritical opinion) blue-skinned monocular student in a near-identical outfit. It occurred to him that maybe something happened to change the kid's appearance, but what? He had no frame of reference, no glimpses into this guy's life to guide him through the dreamscape. He was supposed to be in control, and yet here he was, blindly looking for something of consequence in a sea of apparent irrelevance. Just then the school shifted and distorted around him. The students vanished. The floor caved in. Every door in the hallway fell away- all but one. The superintendent's office?

-

The superintendent's office was still intact, and so were the machines! It had been a perilous path around several unstable 'potholes' (read: holes in the floor that led down into the abyss) and through at least one crowd of pitchfork-wielding war paint-wearing children, but he was here, and he could reclaim- and hopefully resell- his wares. While he loaded them back into the van, he checked the tires for any signs that one of the kids had been stupid enough to stand in his way, and thankfully found nothing. Not that getting run over would have killed most of them. Most of them had survived worse.

The driver wandered around the sales floor and checked inventory. None of the contained items had breached their cases, there were no mysterious liquids on the floor, everything was-

His eyes grew wide as his gaze fell upon his media shelf, where one of the DVDs for sale was conspicuously missing.

-

The superintendent's office had four tall cages in it and nothing else. They were covered by dark cloths like museum exhibits yet to be unveiled. The room was silent. When he yanked down the coverings, he found that there were four frozen figures, one in each cage- three versions of Rob and one older human man in a suit. Was this a memory? What kind of weird life had Rob lived?

A few moments later, when nothing happened, Bill turned to leave, only to be interrupted by a voice from the second cage.

"Let us out!" said memory-Rob #2. "Don't just float there! What's wrong with you?"

He turned around, unsure what exactly was going on.

"We can hang out! Maybe talk about friend stuff," suggested memory-Rob #1.

"Friend stuff? How naive. None of us are friends here. We have disavowed friendship," said memory-Rob #3 in a deep, English-accented voice. "You ought to let me out and keep the others imprisoned-"

"NO!" yelled #2.

"That really sucks of you to suggest!" yelled #1. "Seriously, man?"

"Calm down, calm down. Who, uh, who are you guys? And who's that?" Bill pointed to the human, whose gaze was silent and intense.

"I'm Rob," said memory-Robs #1 and #2 at the same time in happy and angsty tones, respectively.

"I'm Dr. Wrecker," said memory-Rob #3.

"No, he's Rob too," said the human, finally. "We all are."

"What, you're also a Rob?" Bill crossed his arms.

"It's a rather long story."

"I'll find out one way or another. Are you guys, what, alternate personalities?"

"We're all just parts of the mind," offered Rob #3. "I know full well that I've moved on from this identity, and yet it lingers within me, as me. Try not to think too hard about it."

The others nodded.

"We can still be friends!" said #1. Bill promptly pulled the cloth back over his cage and he went silent like a canary, but none of the others protested.

"What would happen if I bent the bars and let you out?"

"How should we know, man?" said #2.

"You're the master of the mind. You tell us," said #3- Wrecker?

"Doing something so reckless would earn you detention- I mean, excuse me, interfere with the natural functioning of my mind," said human-memory-Rob. " Regardless of the immature prattling of-"

"Who are you calling immature?"

"You're a child-"

"You're also a child! We're all a child!"

"I like to think of myself as an adult," offered Wrecker, and he earned death stares from #2 and the human one.

"Uh, do you guys want me to-"

Before Bill could finish his sentence, both of the non-Wrecker Robs nodded, and Bill took that as a sign to cover Wrecker's cage.

"You being in my head makes me uncomfortable," said #2.

"Tough luck. You let me in."

"Fair enough," said #2, pulling the cloth into his cage and covering himself up. Bill and the human were left in the office, staring at each other with mutual contempt.

"You have overstayed your welcome. I suggest you leave my office this instant."

"Your office? You're the superintendent? How old is Rob, anyways?"

"That's a matter of how you count."

"What's that supposed to-"

"13," said Superintendent Rob. "not that I would admit it."

"13 and he's looked like you before?"

"How would you like to have two eyes?" said Superintendent Rob, raising an eyebrow and speaking in a sinister tone.

Bill left the room before he could even wonder about what that threat meant.

Glimpses of silent memories stored in the junkyard and assorted houses made one thing clear: there was something that was, even here in his target's mind, being kept from him. Nearly ever memory featured at least one figure whose features were obscured by static. Sometimes more. This figure was the target of Rob's ire more often than not, but it was difficult to figure out what was happening with no sound, and so far none of the memories had contained any TV remotes for Bill to use. As he approached the wall beyond which things looked unfinished, he entered one final house, recounting everything he could now say he knew about Rob.

The boy was a career criminal with hijacking, kidnapping, and destruction of property on his rap sheet. He was good at making traps, but perhaps not good at using them. Much of his time- in fact, the vast majority of his time- was spent plotting to destroy and/or trying to destroy a mysterious figure whose form had been scrubbed from memory, save for a short period of time during which he had been trying to kill a banana or two instead. His surroundings were modern. He was 13 years old. Something had changed to make him look slightly less freaky, but what exactly caused that change was unclear as of yet. There were shape people in the kid's home dimension who Bill knew from somewhere, maybe, or maybe most other triangles just looked the same.

None of that felt very useful. Sure, maybe he could use the criminal thing for blackmail, but this was in a whole different universe, and besides, this guy didn't seem like the type to be ashamed of himself. Embarrassing him also seemed like a dead end; he had been embarrassed so many times and kept getting right back up. He was the sort of person to fail 563 times in a row and not take even the slightest hit to his self-esteem. That was probably because it was already at rock bottom. The kid's ego was there, but he wasn't naive enough to make it easy to stroke. All in all: he was the furthest thing from an ideal target.

The last house was currently bare, save for a basement door that sat wide open.

-

"Sweetie, use your fingers. That's where all the grip strength is." She put her hands around his, repositioning them around the handle of the nailbat and guiding his arms in a swing. "Okay, now, go get 'em!"

He closed his eyes, gulped, and swung blindly, hitting the hastily-drawn wooden cutout of a cyborg in leather and sending it to the ground with a massive dent in its face.

"Ah!" He opened his eyes. "I did it! I didn't even hit myself with the recoil that time! YES! What do you say, Darwin, could I totally take on an army of radioactive monsters, or what? Oh, no need to answer, I know I could- AH!"

He spun the bat in celebration and smacked himself in the face with it, keeling over backwards. Meanwhile, the small rabbit in the back of the room erased the 'STREAK: 1' on the recently-established family training whiteboard and replaced it with 'STREAK: 0'.

"I don't know about you guys, but I think that was good enough to count towards my streak," said Gumball from his position on the floor. "I didn't even give myself a black eye that time! You gotta give a guy credit where credit is due."

Darwin sighed and put a gold star sticker reading 'ALMOST FINE' on his sweater.

"What, you don't even have any that say 'GREAT JOB'?"

"We're out of 'GREAT JOB'. Soon enough we're gonna have to break into the 'NOT THE WORST EVER' stickers."

"This is an emergency," he said, sitting up. "We gotta go out there!"

He scrambled for the basement stairs, but Nicole blocked his way, brandishing the nailbat.

"No family of mine is stepping out of that door until each of us can take down twenty cardboard cutouts in a row with perfect form," she growled, holding out the bat. "Now, remember-" her tone suddenly became encouraging- "the key to grip strength is using your fingers."

-

The memories in this house were fragmented and out of order. Bill moved from room to room, usually unable to see anything but the static-covered figures, who spent so much time here that it might have been their house. Was Rob related to them, or did he live here for some other reason?

Just when he thought he might complete his tour in silent mode, another TV remote, this time in the hands of one of the hidden figures, appeared in one of the glimpses of the past. He rushed forward and turned on the sound. There was very little of significance to hear, except maybe that Rob's voice was a lot deeper in this memory. Because of the remote? Was that something he could be affected by? That had a practical application. Took him long enough to find one. The static guys' voices were garbled and unintelligble.

Bill left the house the second it emptied of memories and floated before the odd wall. His attempt to simply pass through it, strangely, didn't work. He hit it like a pane of glass. After several more failures that he was glad nobody was around to see, he noticed a thin seam, stuck his hands into it, and wrenched a hole open. Was that doing damage to the kid's mind? Eh, whatever.

Before Bill could go beyond the wall, a van burst through the hole, skidded to a stop, and then pulled away, dissolving a few feet from the barrier. It was followed shortly by yet another memory-Rob. This one was freshly glitching and looking to be in pain. It got up, expressed some palpable anger, and stormed off, dissolving just as the van had; the memory was a shorter loop than most of the others. When it restarted, Bill floated through the hole and saw, to his great satisfaction, a decidedly un-glitchy Rob in the distance.

"Guys! Guys, wait for me!"

For once, he didn't need dialogue to understand what was happening. The boy had clung to the back of the van and been crunched between two sheets of the fabric of reality. Bill didn't know something like that could happen, but it held endless potential for amusement.

The area beyond the wall was sketchy and incomplete. This would have been his early childhood- the one piece of his life missing from the rest of his dreamscape- and yet there were holes here, holes where his childhood home, his parents, his entire pre-adolescence should have been. It was as if there had never been any memories here, only gaps. Why was he so bored? Why was this so cumbersome? Why did he not want to go back through all the memories with sound this time? Somewhere along the line he had missed the memory of how Rob traveled to- and then out of- the Nightmare Realm, but that could have been absolutely anywhere.

His last order of business was wandering to the forest island and floating in front of the 'NO BILL ALLOWED' sign for a good 10 dream-minutes. He would come back here. He had to. But he didn't want to spend another second in this miserable place! Not when he could be making some progress on his original plan, which was so close to fruition that he could nearly see time dying already.

He wasn't frustrated, he told himself, he was calm. He was the master of this place, and he did not get upset so easily- he thought back to the recent time he got upset pretty easily during an in-mind confrontation and then tried to stop thinking about it for the sake of his own confidence. Maybe he was frustrated! Maybe he was-

With a scream that could have passed for a human affected by a night terror, he sat up in the physical world, seething, and the real Rob was ejected once again.

[acourtofbookishdreams]

Azriel ~ Different

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You have been having nightmares frequently and Azriel always is there to help you. This time, though, you finally open up about your nightmares and the things you experienced Under the Mountain.

Warning: Mentions of r*pe and sex*al assault. Please be wary.

Word Count: 1785

Azriel POV

Her screams had woken me again.

"Azriel! Azriel, no!"

This was becoming a recurrent, nightly tradition. A tradition I wished would would just simply not be anymore.

I did what I always did, bursting into her room, Truthteller at the ready to fend off whatever ailed her but we both knew it was mostly for show. Still, I would never not rush to her side, never leave Truthteller behind for the sake of the fact that the one time I didn't would inevitably be the one time something was truly, physically wrong with her and I would kick myself for treating it as any other night - especially since the fear was certainly not all that unfounded.

But it was just a nightmare. Another nightmare.

'YOUR' POV

My screams had woken him again.

He had done the chivalrous thing of course, bursting into my room with Truthteller, prepared to fight the evil lurking in the shadows he couldn't predict or trust but we both knew nothing was there to fight, it was all in my head.

Another nightmare.

One like all the rest but this time...it was worse.

"Y/N" Azriel breathes, lowering the blade

"I'm okay" I shake my head, offering a weak smile, "Routine procedure at this point, right?"

I bite my lip, trying to hold the tears back and averting my gaze. It was usually at this point that Azriel would ask if I wanted him to stay but for some reason tonight was different. He closed the door, left Truthteller on the bedside table and climbed into bed with me immediately after, no questions, no waiting for an invitation.

Of course, I knew if I told him to leave he would do so. It was always my choice. But tonight it appeared maybe he needed this contact as much as I.

"You're safe" Azriel murmurs, gathering me into his arms.

I choke on a sob, curling into his side and resting my head on his bare chest. Usually, when he was shirtless it was an effort to keep focused but at the moment it was just further proof he was here, alive and free. It was proof he was safe.

"It's not my safety that scares me" I breathe. Once again, we were breaking from normal pattern. Previous nights, it had always been my screaming waking him, he would run in, ask if I wanted him to stay, I would agree and then he'd hold me until I fell asleep.

I never talked about the nightmares I had, never. Not even the first time...

"No!" she screamed, thrashing violently in the bedsheets, almost tearing them apart, "No, don't take-NO!"

"Y/N!" Azriel yells, bursting in through the door at the same time she awakens, clutching the sheets to her chest, sweat slick hair plastered to her forehead, tears streaming down in uncontrolled rivers of fear and pain, "Y/N, what is it?!"

"Nothing, Az, I'm sorry for waking you" she sighed, running a hand through her hair, "It was just a nightmare, I've had them for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel frowned, Truthteller lowering to his side.

"It wasn't necessary. I've been dealing with these since-before I got back."

"Would you..." Azriel trailed off, "Do you want me to stay?"

"No, I..." she began to reject the proposal but suddenly changed her mind, "Actually, yes, please."

Azriel nods, placing Truthteller on the bedside table before moving to open up the covers, having since nervously been put in some semblance of order as they had spoken but he stops mid-way noting that her resolve had shaken - that she was now shaking, violent sobs wracking her body.

"Y/N" Azriel said and the one word was enough to break her.

"Azriel" she sobbed, tears flowing freely again, face screwed up into an expression of unfiltered pain.

"Y/N" Azriel whispers, sitting on the bed and pulling her onto his lap. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, securing herself to him as she sobbed into his neck until the sun rose.

She had fallen asleep that way, her legs and arms secured around him in a tight embrace, tears dried and leaving her skin slightly sticky with the moisture.

He had placed her down in the bed after he had fixed the sheets with one hand, the other supporting her body, becoming limp each second sleep overtook her.

He had intended to leave but she had subconsciously clung to him with a grip so strong it had surprised him and rather than risk waking you or, worse, upsetting you, he had climbed into bed beside her, tucking her into his chest so her face rested right where his heart was.

He had found it a very fitting place for her to rest.

Azriel had done it every night since, every time a nightmare came around unless you wished otherwise, which had never happened as of yet. Even if you didn't scream out, his shadows were so attuned to you, he would sense it and come in anyhow - where you would be sitting cross legged on the bed, hugging yourself or crying or just staring at the ceiling with a dead expression on your face.

Having him with you, holding you in his arms, stroking your hair, legs intertwined and breathing synchronised. It was the best remedy for your fear.

A cure.

"Then what does scare you?" Azriel asks, his voice hesitant to bring up a memory that causes you pain.

"You do" I breathe, "My nightmares are always about you."

Azriel breathes in deeply, "I scare you?"

"No, no!" I rebuke, "No, not you personally! My nightmares always involve you...they..."

"You don't have to tell me" Azriel whispers

"I think I need to" I admit, "These dreams, they're obviously not getting better. Maybe telling someone...maybe telling someone will help."

Azriel waits patiently. Content to listen or to completely disregard everything you said if that was what you wished, the way he'd always been.

"Most nights, A-Amarantha comes back" I explain, stumbling over the name, "And this time she takes you instead of Rhys and other nights...other nights it had always been you that was taken."

"And she took you because she knew he was hiding something" Azriel confirmed, it was the little knowledge he did have of Amarantha and her motives, "So to punish him further, she took you, his only living relative, and..."

"And that's all you know" I nod, "But what you don't know is that...she didn't just punish Rhys. She punished me too."

Azriel stiffens in my arms, his hand momentarily freezing in it's soothing stroking up and down my spine.

"If any of it gets to be too much, I can stop" I say

"No" Azriel shakes his head, "You lived it. I can at least stand to hear about it, especially if it helps you."

"She used to...make me watch." I spat in disgust, "While she...basically raped Rhys I had to watch. Everything she did to him, the malice in her eyes while she did what she did, the enjoyment in knowing he was doing this not for her but to protect what he loved...Worse, we both had to pretend it was normal. That we enjoyed it. If we didn't, our facade as the Court of Nightmares would fall apart and we couldn't let that happen."

Peering up at Azriel, I stopped for a moment to assess his reaction. His eyes were hard as flint, like chips of hazel ice. He nodded softly, encouraging me to continue.

"On the odd occasion she would also...bring me into the scene. It wasn't often, she didn't like it all that much herself it was mainly just to put us on edge. Thankfully, she never made us do anything...to each other. I never touched Rhys once nor he me and I'll always thank the Mother for that but she would still...it was still..."

"You don't need to say what it was" Azriel cuts in, "I know."

Traumatising.

It was traumatising.

"So, when the nightmares come about. It's not Rhys under Am-under her. It's you. I see her with you. Some nights you're faking it like we had to, others you're genuinely enjoying it, and sometimes you're...screaming and-and begging her to stop-" My tears choke off the words and I sob loudly.

He pulls me ever closer in response, hushing me as his hands stroke my hair, "That's not me. It was never me."

"What if it could be?" I cry, "What if another one of her comes around one day and they take you. I couldn't bear it-"

"You could. I had to" Azriel admits. Both comforting and upfront. He would never lie to you and to say it would never happen again could be a lie, "When you were taken, I...Cauldron, I would always try to leave Velaris, damn the consequences. It was always Amren and sometimes Mor and Cass who would pull me off the ledge. I couldn't stand it, thinking about what she could be doing to Rhys but, to you...it was worse. Infinitely worse."

"If it ever does happen, I need you to be strong" Azriel continues, "I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening but if the Mother decides that's how things play out...I will need you to be strong, to protect yourself because the idea of you ever being hurt for the sake of me...it's not right."

"It would be" I sniffle, "To keep you safe, I would do anything. I did. Rhys did."

"You'll never have to again" Azriel resolves, kissing the top of my head, "Never again."

I exhale loudly, making a sudden decision that could change everything.

"Azriel?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too" His response was automatic. I mean, we had said it a dozen times but this...was different.

"I don't mean it like that" I admit, peering up at him sheepishly, "I'm in love with you. I have been for a...a very long time."

Azriel's silence spurs me on to speak more, explain myself.

"I understand if you don't feel the same and I'm sorry I never told you earlier but at first it was a crush and then...then I got taken and I was stuck without you for so long. After that, I knew it was love and not a crush on my part but I couldn't say anything. I just...I couldn't. But then you came in every night to help with my nightmares and that was-"

My words are cut off as Azriel takes my chin in his hand, dipping his head and kisses me. Soft, tentative, comforting. It wasn't the kind of kiss that made your toes curl or butterflies erupt, it was the kind of kiss that admitted everything words could never express.

He pulls back only slightly, leaving you nose to nose.

"I have always loved you" Azriel breathes, "From the moment I saw you barrelling into the Illyrian camps, bright smile and unruly attitude."

"I love you" I smile, tears sliding down my face, - happy tears, "So much"

"And I you."

After that, neither of you slept alone ever again.

Masterlist

[pugh-bug]

Scott Lang x reader

Chapter 3

I’m back at uni so writing this is comforting. I really hope you like this chapter - anyone who’s following this.

‘Plot’ : reader lives in Stark Tower with the Avengers slow burnnnn

Warnings: none 🌚 yetttt ... except swearing as always

FUUCK. You’d been ill for a week and just as you thought you were getting better in time for Clint’s birthday party you took a turn. Most of Stark Tower had helped you out in some way, whether it was Bruce trying to find a cure using his 7phds or Thor keeping you company by thrashing you at Mario Kart. As you always did when you got sick you were grumpier and even more indecisive. On Monday you didn’t let anyone visit you and chose the company of your pillow and the fly that wouldn’t leave your window sill over seeing anyone.

Scott had visited you with Nat and Tony but only alone once and of course you had been asleep that day. When you woke up you weren’t being watched, which was a good sign you weren’t getting sleeping with the enemied, and you felt slightly less like shit. Your throat didn’t feel as assaulted by food so naturally you searched your room for snacks on all fours. Standing still made you feel hot and woozy, as if the floor was miles away but touching you at the same time. Your head felt screwed on upside down whenever you tried to stand so crawling was an okay second choice. The carpet was rough against your soft hands and knees.

As you crossed the floor on all fours with your eyes on the galaxy bar Thor had left, the door opened. ‘Ton-‘

‘There’s something I’m missing isn’t there? So this makes sense?’

Scott.

You didn’t need to look up to know what face he was pulling but you did.

‘Standing hurts.’ Was the explanation you gave (making sure to lay on your ‘I’m sick’ voice for effect and possibly sympathy). Everything was beginning to piss you off. Your skin felt so hot. Your brain filled with fast images of volcanoes, fires and anything else you were apparently as hot as. The carpets existence was irritating. Against your bare knees it was starting to feel like itchy shards of rock. You just wanted to go to sleep. Scott was blankly looking at you, probably regretting entering the room at all.

‘Hmm?’

You mumbled something incoherently. The urge to act like a grumpy child because you felt sick was incredibly strong. It was the driving force keeping your eyes open.

‘Not that your mumbling isn’t charm-‘

‘I said I want to sleep!’ Your interruption came out as more of a yell than you intended. Scott widened his eyes before laughing ‘Okay you big baby.’ On a normal day that wouldn’t have bothered you in the slightest but the needy, self pitying part of you was thriving off making itself sad and you did want to sleep. You really wanted to sleep. Scott walked backwards away from you until you realised you didn’t want him to leave. ‘Please don’t lea-‘

‘Ah! Y/N still feeling gross and generally... miserable and... well..not-good?’

Thor’s voice carried before you saw his enthusiast, slightly concerned, face pass Scott’s. Scott don’t leave. If you thought it loud enough maybe he’d stay. Wanda was so lucky, she could make people stop in their tracks to talk to them. Scott was sweet, he would have stayed if you had asked but you didn’t want to have to ask.

You decided it would be wise to stand up and you did. Slowly. If your grandmother could see you she’d think she was athletic kind of slow. It didn’t go unnoticed by your Asgardian friend. ‘Y/N?’ He frowned and closed your curtains making you sleepier. As you attempted to crawl into your bed which seemed to sigh at your return Thor asked if he should fetch Scott. Fetch Scott? Scott wasn’t a doctor?

‘Why?’

In a rare moment you and Thor were not on the same page and he knew it. The visible confusion in his face and the change from a powerful God like stance to an unsure one drove that home. He even tilted his head like the giant puppy he was and didn’t answer.

‘You can if you want but he left. I’m fine here, I’m gonna sleep.’

His face implied he knew something about you that you weren’t admitting to yourself. That wouldn’t fucking fly. ‘Thor,’ your voice became impatient as you shuffled under the covers. ‘If you’re not gonna bring me chocolate can I... jus-I-‘ but just like Scott he left. It was fine. You could finally try and lucid dream and get some rest.

You closed your eyes, despite it being 4pm, but of course trying to sleep was a criminal offence in Stark Tower because Scott’s hand was suddenly beside you. Even with your eyes almost fully closed you knew it was his hand. They were usually slightly dirty from repairing the Antman suits despite Hank’s advice against it (he wasn’t great at listening) and you’d wanted to hold them so many times you’d lost count.

You weren’t even sure if you could speak but Scott didn’t. For once the two of you were silent. No snarky remarks and no magic tricks or childish behaviour that made Stephen roll his eyes. It felt odd. The light that was managing to escape through the edges of the curtains barely reached Scott’s face. What you could see was the man on his knees beside your bed like you were in a hospital bed. As the thought was born you couldn’t help but wonder if Scott would be the person you’d want if something awful happened to you? Tony would take it personally, Thor would be hurt but he was becoming your favourite person somehow.

Did he expect you to speak? More than enough time had passed for him to comfortably speak but he stayed silent with you. It felt like something you shouldn’t discuss with anyone including Scott. It felt like the two of you were sitting in a sensory deprivation tank in the dark and your sleepiness was overwhelming. Your breathing became heavier as your eyes closed you heard Scott finally speak.

‘Goodnight Y/N.’

When you woke up you knew he’d be gone. It would be inappropriate for him to stay. Out of everyone in Stark Tower the closest you’d gotten to sleeping beside someone was with a very drunk and sad Wanda. But you’d really wanted him to stay. The light entered your window just as you let your brain become infected by thoughts about what that long silence could have meant? Had he wanted to grab your hand? You hated how high school and desperate he had unknowingly made you become. You needed to get your mind on other things.

After a week of sleeping for far too long and being made fun of by Tony and Clint your - whatever it was you were a medical mystery - had cleared up. Your master plan was to spend more time with the one person in Stark Tower who brought out your mature side. Who was an excellent distraction from torturing yourself over every Scott interaction you had.

‘Peter don’t chew with your fucking mouth open. It’s gross.’

You watched in disgust as Parker made every vile mouth noise a human could possibly make. In fact he’d probably surpassed a world record. Scott stopped buttering his toast just to gasp in ‘horror.’

‘Y/N! You can’t swear at the kid. It’s like swearing at a little bird!’

Stephen scoffed. The ‘sexy uptight magician’ ,as Tony had lovingly dubbed, had no patience for most conversations. Especially ones that didn’t involve him or how excellent he was at everything.

‘All I did was eat toast!’ The baby retorted and you almost felt bad for him. ‘You’re so mean.’

‘The fact that you two are only 2 years apart is shocking.’ You tried not to let Scott’s comment get to you but you felt smugger by the second.

‘Frightening.’ Tony added before smiling at Peter, like exhausted fathers do at their complaining kids. You smirked in Peters direction who scowled at you as if to say you’re not as grown up as you think you are. You finished your toast, listened to Tony and Stephen bicker effortlessly and watched Scott. He always ate while watching people like he was David Attenborough or someone in a documentary. Instead of ‘Blue Planet’ the title would be ‘Superhero’s and why you shouldn’t live with them’. He always ate stood up. He always leaned back onto the kitchen top and made it look casual instead of an effort to look sexy (which you suspected it was). He always left some food on his plate because it went cold while he was distracted and he often caught your eye when someone was being entertaining.

‘Atleast I know how to dress myself...Stark.’

You hadn’t been paying attention to their petty argument but Scott’s eyes locked onto yours. Amused and then a look of realisation hit him. ‘Y/N I haven’t even asked how you are!’ He crossed the kitchen towards you and Stephen and Tony shut up.

‘I’m fine.’ You laughed and raised your eyebrows at Tony, who was watching you and Scott like a snake. He was standing behind you, the scent of overheated electric wires and warmth reaching you. ‘Stopped sleeping for 13 hours,’ if no one played their cards right you would start rambling about your ‘health’ for an hour just to fill the quiet. Peter was distracted on his phone.

Without any hesitation Scott’s large but boiling hands reached your face. You leaned back so you were directly looking up at him. He was glowing with pride at his actions. ‘For fucks sake!’ You squirmed away from his hands. ‘Why are they boiling? Jeeeez!’ Of course he laughed at your overreaction but they really had felt like hot pokers on your already warm cheeks.

‘You didn’t need warming up?’ He asked quietly, sensing he was on thin ice, but knowing the answer. Tony laughed but Stephen seemed deep in thought and somewhere else. You knew how that felt.

‘You’re worse than Tony.’

With every ‘angry’ remark at Scott you felt yourself making everything safer. It was easy to argue with him like he was Tony irritating you or even like Peter. That silence the week before had not been safe. Sitting with him on the roof hadn’t been safe either.

Despite your anger, that maybe he just saw right through as the opposite, Scott stayed stood behind you. His fingers started to gently run through your hair and a loud exhale of breath left your chest. You wanted to sink into his touch like a needy cat. No one ever played with your hair and it would have felt comforting if it had been anyone but having it be Scott..

Peter started rambling which brought Stephen out of his head and back down to Earth to interrupt him. Tony, however, had his eyes locked on Scott’s fingers playing with your hair. He gave you a knowing look and you mentally shunned him. You didn’t want him in your head right then and there.

‘How can you agree with him?!’

Scott seemed to be listening to Peter and Stephen’s discussion but you couldn’t care less. His hand brushed down your neck and settled onto your shoulder. You suddenly felt tiny, sat in Tony’s egotistical table chair with Scott looming behind you. ‘What do you think Y/N?’ Shit. Did he know you hadn’t been paying any attention? Was he testing what effect his touch had on you? What a thought.

‘I think...’ you suddenly sat up so Scott’s hands had nowhere to go. The last thing you wanted was Tony deciding to point out Scott’s touchy feely behaviour in front of everyone. ‘That I want to see if there’s any Ben and Jerries left.’ What a save.

‘There’s not.’ Peter shrugged returning your his phone. The little shit.

‘Here we go.’ Tony and Scott chuckled because they knew what was coming.

Taglist: @supraveng

[avversiera-writes]

concerns - senju tobirama/reader

Summary: Tobirama getting injured from a mission is nothing new. He could care less about that. However, having you see him in that state is another story.

A/N: here i am, back to annoying you with some husband!tobirama lmfaooooooo from the same timeline of you never said goodbye, overstepping, and hold my hand. 

Also available in AO3 under the series name ‘til death do us part (where i am dumping all these one-shots in)

Tobirama does not make mistakes.

So when he's dragged into the hospital by his students, he makes a big fuss over the whole ordeal. He really does not need this. He is fine , he has survived far worse injuries that left him with one leg into the afterlife. Really, everything will be fine if everyone just stops freaking out and trying to make this a big deal.

The mission was, by far a success, in Tobirama’s standards. It was the usual sabotage and raid kind of mission. Everyone came back alive and in one piece, including him. He just had the misfortune of encountering a goose chase that ended up being an ambush. Luckily, he was able to get everyone out of the situation, and with his flying raijin jutsu, the enemy was quickly eliminated. Except that, apparently, one of his students had noticed that someone had hacked at his side, and he is also sporting a head wound turned into concussion.

Something that Tobirama is sure that he can sleep off.

Fortunately for him, his brother is one of the best healers in the village and is the Hokage. Certainly, he will tell these people to go on about their day.

“Dammit, where is Lord First?!” Danzo suddenly exclaimed with great vexation.

The medics in the hospital are swarming all around trying to calm Tobirama and his very high-strung and concerned students. They are all hounding on the medics, handing them a barrage of questions that only adds to the noise and confusion.

Tobirama focused his efforts into warding off the medics, while his side bleeds profusely and steadily, and is starting to form a pool on the hospital floor.

“Lord Tobirama, please let us do our job!” One of the medics pleaded as they attempted to inject him with a suspicious looking liquid.

“Hey! What is that?!” Homura barks.

The door opens, and Hashirama finally steps through the threshold, his face tight and his commanding presence takes charge of the room. Behind him, is Tobirama’s...well. His significant other, and well, you, also known as his intended.

Tobirama suddenly feels betrayed. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Half-mad and numb from the adrenaline of being injured.

The only response he could muster was absent of kind words.

“Get her away from here! What is she doing here? Get her out!” Tobirama suddenly starts shouting.

You stare at him, bewildered. On top of your worries, just the sight of him like this makes your skin blanche. You have seen Tobirama beaten up and worn from battle, but you have never had to be the receiving end of his hostile demeanor. Usually, they are meant for enemies. Usually, Tobirama keeps a cool head in the most stressful situations.

Usually.

“Tobirama,” you call out. Your eyes go to his side, which is clumsily patched. The blood has completely soaked the gauze and they are clumping up on the bedsheets and the floor.

“Go away!” Tobirama barks, but his eyes do not meet yours.

Hashirama takes this moment to settle Tobirama. He steps closer to his brother and forcibly pushes him down on the hospital bed. He thrashes, completely livid.

“Tobirama, what the hell is wrong with you? Calm down!” Hashirama yells.

Hashirama turns to you. “It is best you leave.”

You stare at the scene before you, unsure of how to process the hurt that is settling in your heart. Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder, gently directing you outside. You glance back just in time for Hashirama to touch Tobirama’s forehead, and Tobirama drops down, unconscious.

“He will be alright,” Uchiha Kagami reassures from beside you. He retrieves his hand from your shoulder and he closes the door behind him. “You know how he is.”

You frown. Usually, you know how Tobirama is. You don’t know what to make of what just happened.

“I would like to apologize on his behalf,” Kagami continues.

You nod glumly, and you sit by the waiting chairs against the wall. Kagami opts to stay in the hallway with you, taking interest in his scuffed sandals and picking at the weapons pouch placed on his leg.

Finally, Hashirama steps out after what seems like hours.

You look up, and you notice the weariness on his face.

“He’s alright, he’s just resting,” Hashirama says. “I am sorry that my brother behaved like that. If it makes you feel better, he has some head trauma. Minor, but. Still head trauma.”

“What about his other injuries?”

“Nothing I cannot fix,” Hashirama smiles. “Although, he must have been in some kind of delirium for being able to keep going with that heavy of a damage.”

You take your fingers to the bridge of your nose and massage the blossoming headache away. “He is such a damned fool sometimes.”

Hashirama’s laugh makes you start, as it is loud and booming. “Amazing. You really do have the guts to talk behind his back.”

You can’t help but smirk at this. “Well, someone has to. Why do you think he took notice of me?”

Hashirama shakes his head with amusement. “I will have to take my leave, as there are other pressing matters I have to attend to. I will come back in the evening to check on him and beat some sense into that stubborn skull of his.”

You nod. You watch Hashirama leave, and then you nod at Kagami. The two of you enter the room again, where it is much quieter now, a stark contrast to the room that was a while ago. Tobirama is in his bed, unconscious, while his students surround him, looking around anywhere but at each other and their injured sensei.

The blood on the floor is now turning dark. You cringe at the sight of it, not because you are queasy, but because no one has really thought of cleaning it away.

Hiruzen clears his throat, and it seems like that was a silent conversation between him and his teammates because a moment later, they pile towards the door to exit.

Once everyone is cleared out of the room, you take your seat on the chair that is on the cleaner side.

You finally let out a sigh of relief, and you cannot help the tears that are coming. For once, you are glad he is unconscious and unaware of what you are feeling at the moment.

“Dammit, Tobirama,” you whisper quietly. It is a catchphrase of yours that has not worn out yet.

You look towards the window and wait until the tears have dried. You do not leave his side until Hashirama comes in the evening to check up on him and gives you the positive prognosis of Tobirama’s condition.

“Go home and get some sleep,” Hashirama gently tells you. “He will still be here tomorrow.”

Knowing Tobirama, if he wakes up tomorrow, he will do anything to get out of the hospital. However, you do what as the Shodaime Hokage says.

//

Exactly as you predicted, Tobirama has high-tailed out of the hospital and has gone off the grid from his students and his brother. He has probably gone into one of his labs, or gods forbid, that doomsday shelter you know he has been constructing underground. He reasons that it’s for emergencies. His head is always planning for emergencies and war measures.

However, as much as his students pleaded with you, you know that it is best that you all leave him to his devices. Finding him might be a dangerous deed since he has laced his secrets with traps and seals of his making.

You ignore that feeling in your gut that you should chase after him, and have settled to just lock yourself in your apartment.

You try to immerse yourself in some reading and studying, since as a jounin, it is a requirement that you polish your knowledge. However, all efforts are in vain. Your focus is nowhere to be accessed, and your thoughts only flit to the man that you are supposed to be marrying in just a few months.

A lot of patience and waiting is required to be personally involved with Tobirama.

You were in the middle of a nap when suddenly your front door was banging.

You hop to your feet immediately, just as the door opens. Without thinking, you throw kunais towards the intruder, and at the last minute, they are deflected and you find yourself face to face with a haggard Tobirama.

“Why didn’t you answer?” Tobirama demands, pacing with his shoulders taut and his features ready to jump at any threat.

“Why did you have to break in?” You retort. “You have the key.”

Tobirama looks like there are a hundred conversations that he is attending to. His eyes are lit with a kind nervous energy, and he is talking so quickly that there is no word that he speaks you can hang on to. It is like, he is some crazed scientist hashing out a lengthy lecture in under ten minutes.

You are genuinely, very worried about his state.

Then, he steps into your space and he peers over at you, his eyes alert and scanning you for nonexistent injuries.

“Tobi,” you whisper, your eyes tracking him.

“I couldn’t find you,” Tobirama finally murmurs after a long time, and you sense that he is now calmer. “I was–”

Tobirama sighs, his fatigue clearly set on his features.

“I couldn’t find you...I’d have thought you were going to be there when I woke up,” Tobirama states. His eyes flit down.

Suddenly, you are miffed. “And you thought that going to gods knows where is going to help you?”

Tobirama frowns. “I needed to do something. I could not be deterred.”

“Like what, Tobirama?”

“I just had to straighten up something, think it out. I suddenly thought of a framework for another lightning-style jutsu, and I got carried away.”

You take a tentative step towards him and you keep your eyes on his face. He looks a little bit withdrawn, and very pale.

“You are worrying me,” you say to him. You watch the countless emotions that flit through his face.

“I’d have thought you would want space from me after what I had said to you yesterday,” Tobirama murmurs quietly.

“You had head trauma,” you supplied slowly.

“No, I may have acted adversely to the fact that you saw me injured.”

You take a deep breath and you frame Tobirama’s face with your hands. “Tobirama, I have seen you injured before. Why is this any different?”

Tobirama looks away again.

You wait for him, because patience is a practiced ability one must have when personally involved with Tobirama.

“I was reckless, and because of that, I could have made a mistake that could have ended me,” Tobirama finally says. His voice is missing his usual edge. “That is the equivalent of me leaving you at the altar and not fulfilling my promise to you.”

You sigh, and you give him a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I will save you from injuring your man pride further, however, you are not forgiven until you close my door.”

“I have not apologized.”

“No, but you look really pathetic right now.”

“I thought you would mop the floor with my pathetic self right about now.”

You chuckle softly. “Rain check?”

Tobirama nods, and then he leans over to kiss your forehead. “Don’t be too eager.” He smirks against your forehead. “I am injured.”

“Please, you and your Senju genes have gotten you this far. You will be okay.”

Tobirama pulls away and he studies your face. “That is not a compliment.”

“In my defense, it is sort of a compliment.”

Tobirama stares at you, and he does that one thing only you can make him do. He smiles. It is barely there, but you know by the way his eyes fill with mirth and amusement, something he only reserves for you.

END.

[undeadsnorlax]

Cumbersome and Heavy

Archive of our Own link

@badthingshappenbingo​

Prompt: Big Brother Instinct

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV Series)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, nightmare sequence (involving temporary character death and blood+gore), referenced self-harm and child abuse

Wordcount: 2514

Big Brother Instinct - where a character has an instinctive desire to act as protector for a younger or smaller siblings. Luther feels he's failed this aspect of his personality too many times over. He's scared of it happening again. And the subconscious sure loves playing with those fears.

Luther was aware, the moment his eyes opened, that he was dreaming. Of course he was – he was back in the Umbrella Academy, the one he remembers, stood in the hallway near their childhood bedrooms, in the same dumb uniform he wore every day until he was eighteen and grew too tall to logically wear it. Except he’s…

He flexed a hand in front of his face. Not the mottled grey skin he’d grown to know, but tan and calloused palms instead. He strokes his face, feeling a scar over one brow and across a cheek, soft long hair…

“What the fuck?” Diego’s voice came out as he spoke.

Yeah. Definitely a dream. Right?

Luther looked around the corridor, a shiver running down his spine. It was…practically demolished. The doors of the rooms either shattered into splinters or hanging off the hinges. Peering in, he saw only wreckage. Toppled bookshelves and desks shattered in half…large sticky red smears on the walls and floor.

His nostrils flared. Blood.

“Shit.”

Luther kept moving, every step feeling as heavy as it did in his normal body, despite now possessing Diego’s. The whole house was dark, not even the faintest of light coming through the windows. It reminded him too much of the days he spent alone here. Every so often he’d recognise something belonging to his siblings, tossed about with disregard on the ground. Dog tags, a ripped up uniform, a snapped bowstring, shreds of a leather jacket.

Now he was in the entrance hall, how it was last time in their timeline – the chandelier that had fell on him smashed in the middle of the room, torn fabric stuck to it.

“Such a disappointment, isn’t he?”

A lump caught in Luther’s throat.

Just a dream he reminded himself, turning his head slowly to see Reginald stood at the top of the stairs.

“Perhaps you would have been the better Number One.”

No more numbers, Luther thought, clenching his fists shakily. But right now, he felt like a child again, like he had back at the supper in the 60s, unable to speak up. How many times had he let the threat of being demoted motivate him growing up? Had Diego heard similar? How he’d never be leader, never be held in the same regard Luther was, but maybe, just maybe if he pushed himself more, he could be?

His attention was drawn towards the living room. Grunts and growls and horrible snaps that made something deep in his stomach churn. Looking up towards the staircase again, Reginald had vanished.

He didn’t want to, but slowly Luther opened the living room door. There was some light in here, a flickering bulb swinging back and forth.

The smell of blood was strong.

And in the corner was…him. His actual body. He wasn’t wearing his shirt, his fur was thick and creating the most unsettling silhouette as he hunched over…something.

Luther felt that churning in his gut again, as if on some reflex as a knife flicked out into his palm.

Allison’s head was limp, staring up at him from the ground with glassy eyes. Vanya was a crushed pile, Klaus and Five’s mangled bodies tossed on top of each other.

His actual self turned his head, tilting it slightly. His eyes were black, his face smeared with blood…he stood, towering.

Luther gulped, taking a step back. Was this what his siblings saw every time he was near them? This hulking form that could block the light, muscles twitching and tensed with even the slightest movement.

His body smirked, showing blood in his teeth. Twitched stained fingers.

And suddenly he was that body, looking down at Diego in the stupid fucking uniform, pointing a single dagger in his direction.

“Luther. This isn’t you,” his brother said, voice shaking.

Luther licked his lips, letting out a soft growl. Inside he was screaming, stop, stop it, he’s right, it isn’t.

Stop being the monster you think you are.

He looked back at the shattered forms of his other four siblings. No, five siblings, because now leaned up against the smashed remains of the bar was Ben, head slumped to his chest and a gaping wound in his stomach.

Oh, all his life he’d been worried about this, wondering just how far his strength could go.

No, he didn’t need to wonder. Because he already knew, with the scars along his skin where he’d tried to carve himself back to normal after his accident, how it started as simple scratches but turned into chunks of gore that stuck under his nails. As long as he kept that damage to himself…

Watching Diego stand his ground, he knew he could tear him apart if he wanted. Snap his neck and rip his arms from his body. Crush his skull with the pressure of one hand, easily. Bite into his shoulder and come back with a mouthful of raw flesh. All manner of horrific acts with barely any effort.

As much as he tried to force himself to stay back, it was like Luther was in the passenger seat and this…beast was driving. He lunged forward, fingers wrapping around Diego’s throat and pinning him several feet above the ground as his knife fell to the floor with a clatter.

Diego struggled, gripping at Luther’s arm and kicking his legs out but he barely felt it.

Stop it, stop it, you’re not-

They were eleven years old and holding this same position. Luther wasn’t as big and Diego didn’t have his scars, and he could hear Ben’s voice yelling near him to calm down, Diego hadn’t meant whatever comment he’d said.

It’s how they found out Diego could hold his breath for so long. He ended up having a hand shaped bruise on his neck for two weeks straight.

Because that’s all Luther could do. He just hurt those he loved. And when he didn’t hurt them, he couldn’t protect them, so they still got hurt, like Ben and Elliot.

“Useless, Number One.”

Back to their adult bodies. Reginald stood in the doorway, shaking his head as Luther strangled his brother.

“You know you’re able to. Why hold back?”

“Because…I…” Luther took a laboured breath, every word being said through gritted teeth as he watched Diego’s eyes dim slightly. His grip loosened. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Yet here we are.” Reginald scoffed, shaking his head in the way that had made Luther’s heart sink for twenty-nine years. “If you truly don’t, you’d let go.”

He wanted to let go, he wanted this scene to shift and his siblings not be dead in a pile at his own hand and for this taunting form of his father to go away, he wanted to wake up-

Luther?

His grip tensed again.

Luther, what’s wrong? Wake up!

Diego looked at him, and it seemed like understanding on his face.

Is he okay?

I don’t know. Hey, hey, Luther, please, wake up. It’s fine.

Sn-a-p.

Christ, hang on.

What are you-

Diego fell limp.

The scene went dark.

…

Luther woke with a gasp as he felt water splash over his face, spluttering as he flailed about.

“Diego!” Vanya’s voice hissed, and in the gloom there was a gentle slap.

“Hey!” Diego whispered back, “Sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do!”

Luther’s eyes adjusted a little, feeling the dull ache in his chest from whatever kind of attack he’d been having whilst he slept.

Back in the motel room, where the springs of the bed dug into his spine. Back in the world the six of them didn’t quite belong in with no Umbrella Academy, a world where their father had formed the Sparrow Academy instead, with brand new children.

Safe. Everyone was alive. Even Ben, even if he wasn’t their Ben.

“Hey. Luther.”

Vanya gently took Luther’s hand, just about visible as she gestured her head towards the bathroom. Luther gulped and let her guide him to his feet, taking him there. The gentle padding of feet just behind told him Diego was following, but he wasn’t sure quite yet if he could look him in the eye.

He shut the door as they crammed into the small bathroom, Vanya sitting on the side of the bathtub as Diego jumped up on the counter. Luther, unsure of where else to put himself, just sat himself down on the floor with his head between his legs. He wanted to feel small.

“You were whimpering in your sleep bro,” Diego said, letting his voice carry a little louder now they were out of the main room, “Thrashing about like crazy.”

“Nearly kicked me out of bed,” Vanya said with a light-hearted smile, getting a towel to rub dry the parts of Luther’s face and hair that had been hit in the water throwing, “Thought I was through with that after Five forced me off the pull-out.”

“Would not have had him down for such a blanket hog,” Diego chuckled, tilting his head to see if that got any response, “…Luther?”

Luther gulped, allowing himself to flop back against the wall, looking up at them. He could feel his hands shaking, his chest starting to tighten once more. “Just a dream,” he said, his voice strained. He paused, swallowed, and corrected himself. “A nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vanya asked, now sitting down next to him, reaching out a hand that he flinched away from.

Luther tightened his own hand into a fist, feeling his nails dig into his palm. “I…I hurt you. All of you. Badly.”

“…how badly?” Diego joined them, keeping in a crouched position as his usually scowling face softened.

Luther felt like he could still smell blood when he flared his nostrils. “I’d…I’d killed you all. Torn you to shreds, crushed you up.” He gulped heavily. “I might’ve…I think I ate some of you? There was just…a lot going on. Like a horror movie. And Dad was there, taunting me into finishing you off.”

A moment of silence as Diego and Vanya gave each other a look. It was surprise, Luther was sure of that, but he didn’t know if it was a good way or a bad way.

“But you wouldn’t do that,” Diego said firmly, “You wouldn’t hurt us like that, you know you wouldn’t.”

“But I could.” Luther winced, unfurling his fingers and looking at his palm, though hiding it from view. He hadn’t broken the skin enough to draw blood, thankfully, but enough to leave several red crescent moon shapes. “I-I always manage to hurt you guys. What I did to you, Vanya. What I did to Klaus, and I still don’t remember it happening properly. Ben-“

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for that,” Diego growled, shifting to sit on his knees, “We all messed up there, but even then, there’s nothing we could have done to prevent it. It just happened.”

“But Ben’s alive here. A world without me as leader, and Ben lived.”

“Yeah, and guess what? He’s also a colossal dickhead.”

Vanya reached out and took Luther’s hand again, forcing the palm upwards and showing the marks there. Her expression made him cringe, look in the other direction. Most of his siblings had pieced together his self-destructive tendencies by now, but Vanya had been the one to bare witness to some of them, like that fight he threw back in ’63. “Diego’s right, you know,” she said, turning his hand back over to rub his knuckles, “It wasn’t your fault. It was nobody’s fault.”

“It was Dad’s fault for pushing Ben against his will,” Diego added, getting a smug little glow from being told he was right for once.

“Easy to blame him for everything,” Luther mumbled, staring at the strands of fur poking out from the cuff of his long-sleeved t-shirt, “What did he not fuck us over with?”

“I know we’re having a serious heart-to-heart right now, but I love this bitter Luther who hates Dad.”

He glanced up at Diego then scoffed, shrugging a shoulder. “I love it too. I’m jealous of you guys for realising it sooner.”

His brother and sister both gave him a smile, glad he was calming down. Still, Luther rested his head back against the wall, staring at the flickering light until he saw shapes.

“I wasn’t me at the start of the dream. I was…I was in your body, Diego. And I saw me from your point of view.” He swallowed heavily, turning his fingers so he could give Vanya’s hand the softest squeeze. “I’m…terrifying.”

“Remember when we were kids?” Vanya asked, squeezing his hand back with all her might, “Whenever I found a spider in my bedroom. I’d come to you for help. You know why?”

Luther’s face contorted as he gave it genuine thought but gave up with a huff. “No.”

“Because you were always the gentlest. Klaus and Diego always managed to kill it and Allison and Ben hated them, and Five never managed to catch it properly, but you would get a cup and a piece of paper and release it out your window without hurting it.”

Luther just huffed again, wrinkling his nose. “It’s not like it’s hard…”

“You always made those model kits with all those little bits that snap super easy,” Diego added, sliding up to lean against the wall next to him, “And I’ve never seen a record collection in such perfect condition. Face it, for a guy with super strength, you’re very delicate.”

“…I hate you guys.” It came out dry and sarcastic, through a shy grin. “Okay, I know. I wouldn’t hurt anyone to that extent on purpose, but I still could.”

“And hopefully when you do, it’ll be on the old bastard himself,” Diego said, punching his arm, which got another scoff of laughter.

“I wasn’t the only one whose powers he was holding back,” Vanya said. She reached over to get some toilet paper, not letting go of Luther’s hand as she did, before handing the wad to him. “If he’d just…bothered a little more, you wouldn’t have to be so worried about hurting people.”

“To be fair, that’s all we were taught to do.” Luther blew his nose into the tissue, sighing slowly. “…thanks you guys. For hearing me out.”

Diego threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling his head in close to bump their foreheads together. “Hey. Don’t mention it Lu, okay? We got your back, like we know you got ours.”

“Let’s get back to bed now, huh?” Vanya added softly, awkwardly wiggling closer to give Luther a hug, arms barely reaching around his chest, “Then in the morning, we could…go to that diner on the next block! The one with all those different juice machines?”

Luther closed his eyes, wanting to savour this moment for a little longer as he placed one hand on Vanya’s side and the other at the back of Diego’s head. He was far away from that nightmare now, and that’s all it had been, and all it would ever be. A bad dream.

[coconutshvings]

ATZ Mafia: You almost Get Hurt [Hyung Line]

✴Group || Ateez

✴ Genre || ??

✴ Warnings || Badly written \\ little violence \\ very light angst \\ some are shorter than others

Hongjoong:

He had told you to meet him on the very last floor of a bar that he owned and often did business at the last floor was the basement and he usually requested that you didn't go beyond the main floor of ths bar so this could be a big thing if he wanted you down there.

Once you got to the bar pub the undeniable smells of alcohol, fruits, and baked goods filled your nose but once you set your sight on the door behind the bar you headed that way and since the bartenders knew well who you were there was not much hastle.

It was lit with decorative lights which showed the down the set of stairs , you took in a breath before letting it go and proceeding down the stairs of the bar's basement.

It was quiet but not alarming, until you got to the final step before you were fully in the basement a snap of artillery was heard loudly in your ears and you were froze in fear when a gun was pointed directly at your cheek instinctively bringing your hands up in surrender not saying a word as your eyes showed all you were feeling as well as your heart.

"Oh it's my girl, put those things down we don't harm women anyway you fools." Hongjoong gritted as he forcefully pushed the gun away from you.

Your eyes and muscles relaxed, Hongjoong's eyes focused on you and his intimidating look melted into a smile "You made it finally, angel."

Seonghwa:

He insisted that you took some type of protection class to better of your chances of surviving just in case he wasn't around to protect you he had many different things for you to try but you refused to do anything that involved a gun or a knife so his last choice was Boxing.

You knew a little about it however didn't want to risk being knocked out by God knows who though it was you who voluntarily went thinking he'd fight someone and show you some moves but he had other plans which were to have you fight someone else.

Indeed you did your best to back out but Seonghwa really dragged you into the ring "You're so strong trying to resist so I know you'll do fine here Y/n don't worry." Seonghwa grunted as he did his best to keep you in his grip.

Once in the ring he placed you up right and you noticed a female in front of you "She looks like she bench presses cars." You mumbled to him "She's harmless." He insisted as he put your gloves on ,

"Remember to do your best to Dodge and body shots are crucial." You watched him walk away

"Seonghwa I deeply think this is unnecessary in many ways, You could've gotten me a personally Trainor not had me-" Seonghwa's eyes grew 3 times wider as you spoke within seconds he was running past you leaving you confused.

Once you heard a gruff and the mat beneath you Shook was when you realized what had happened, he'd taken a punch for you which ignited aggravation in your veins as you looked at him next to your feet rubbing his cheek in pain.

"Dumb ass! we didn't even tap gloves why the sudden attempt to hit me?" She chuckled "You have to be prepared for anything." Your heart was pumping loudly as you nodded understanding the woman's intention,

you stepped over Seonghwa and Kneed her in her lower stomach before gripping her shoulders making her yell a shrieking yelp bringing her to her knees and delivering a right hook to her cheek causing her to tumble over.

Your breathing could make anyone think you were about to turn into the hulk at any moment, "Maybe all you need is to be provoked before you attack." You heard from behind you knowing it was Seonghwa you just rolled your eyes.

Yunho:

He was teaching future mafia recruits in a secluded field base Area so that the hopefuls could practice archery and offered to show you something he does that's on the nicer side of his Job so you were happy to come by and see how well he worked with these youngsters.

He had Mingi drive and escort you into the area past the semi wooded maze that sort of made you paranoid but a big green field of people came into view indicating you were in the right spot with Mingi close behind,

"He's out there Somewhere." Mingi announced your eyes darted out for Yunho in the big field but be appeared beside you kissing your cheek stsrtling you giving him clear opportunity to smugly smile at you

"You've gotta get better at being aware of your surroundings, Y/n." You shrugged. "What did you want me to see, mosquitos?"

Yunho simply pointed to the center of the field "I'm teaching Archery." You observed and some of the young men and women practicing looked Stellar while others were shakey but they all were beginners

"How long have you been teaching them?" Yunho took a moment to think about it , "A little over two months." You were majorly impressed "I can admit a lot of them look great out there."

"I can teach you what I'm teaching them and more." Before you could answer a plummet to the ground was what you felt followed by a rough groan from your lips from the impact of something rushing into you soon your head fell onto the grass as

"Sorry about but would you rather been stabbed by that arrow?" you were dizzy from the impact it took a few moments but you opened your eyes to see Mingi rising up from over you

Yunho quickly dropped by your side with remorse and panic in his eyes he examined your body before looking up at Mingi "Thank you, man."

You looked up at Yunho "I suppose I do need to be more aware of my surroundings." You tried to joke though you struggled to speak.

Yeosang:

Here you were storming out of the restaurant you made reservations at to have a loving night of food and his company, sadly you weren't his only company his phone kept going off and he never hesitated to pick up the calls and conduct business or arrange things right there in front of you stopping your own conversation that you started with him.

You'd try try another night but you were not about to sit there and be disrespected obviously He was Hot on your trail calling out to you but you just drowned his calls out, "Y/n I'm not oblivious I know why you're upset but can we at least eat?" He sighed

"Your phone isn't going to get in the way of that?" You cleverly asked still walking looking both ways before stepping into the street "Business doesn't stop and you know it." His tone became more irritated

"You don't have to remind me, honey, trust me I can see that." He rubbed the middle of his forehead "Look get over it I brung my phone you better be glad I didn't bring a weapon."

The streets were empty as you stopped to take off your annoying shoes "We'll talk when we get to the condo." You let out sarcastic shrill "No we won't. My sleep is just as important as your phone on our date."

You turned to him so he knew you meant your words and before he could comeback with his own the screeching of tires were heard making both of your heads snap in the direction of the noise

"MOVE BACK!" you gasped loudly as Yeosang pulled you back making you fall into him painfully with him crashing onto the concrete side walk as the car thrashed down the street as if it was intentionally not going to stop with you there or not You both watched the car and became confused once it almost immediately stopped sideways in the street causing the tires to loudly stop,

"Stay Down." Yeosang's words were whispered in your ear as he unintentionally threw you off of him rising swiftly to his feet reaching in the back of Pants, the clicking sound of his Gun's safety coming off was heard as He quickly aimed it at the unidentified vehicle walking closer to it as he fired off but after a few shots the Car sped off in the opposite direction.

You watched in horror before snapping out of it and running to where your boyfriend stood wrapping your arms around his face seeing the car disappear before looking at Yeosang's unexplainable expression before laying your head on his chest he soon cradled your head with one hand,

"Who could that have been?" You shakingly spoke while Yeosang put his Gun away and replaced it with his phone bringing it up to his ear as he stared at the direction the car zoomed off in

"I have no clue but I'll definitely be looking into it, we need to get you to a safe protected place." You nodded knowing there was no arguing against this, "I thought you said you didn't bring a weapon." Yeosang smiled slightly at your small humor "I lied, sweetie."

[axelsagewrites]

Lightwood Imagine*Snacks

Ship(s): To be confirmed...

Request?: Nope

Warnings?: torture, flawed timeline etc

Type: I have no clue

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

The Lightwoods were basically my family. We'd been raised side by side. Every memory I had involved one of the lightwoods. Jace and Alec were a team and Isabelle and I were a team. Together we were a family.

My secret snacks had been found and raided. I don't know if it was her, but I have a feeling Jace had something to do with it. Shadowhunters weren't too fond of keeping 'unhealthy' food around because that's too 'mundane' so I grabbed my shoes.

"Where are you going?" Alec asked.

"Someone ate my snacks,"

Isabelle rolled her eyes, "Just get an apple,"

I looked at her and made a face, "Ew," I can't believe her sometimes, "I'm hungry. I need sugar,"

"Its 9 at night," Alec said, "It could be dangerous,"

"So? I'm a shadowhunter. I can deal with a couple dumb mundane," I grabbed my coat, shrugging it on, and checking for my wallet, "Be back soon,"

"You're being stupid," Alec called after me.

"I've got my Stele, I'll grab a seraph blade, you need to calm down," I rolled my eyes, "See ya,"

It wasn't exactly warm, and I don't love the dark, so I walked quicker than usual. There was a corner shop just around the corner that was open to 10 so I made my way down the path. Why was I freaking out? Like I said I'm a shadowhunter, mundane can't even see me right now. Why worry?

The logic didn't stop the hair on the back of my neck sticking up. The shop was deserted apart from Tom behind the till. I had to unrune myself so I could check out. "Didn't even see you come in," He grinned, bags under his eyes, as he rung up my snacks.

"That tired huh?" I joked as I paid.

"Get home safe kid," he said as I exited the shop.

Sure, I got way too many snacks, but I would spread them out. Still, I glanced into the bag, seeing how much id got when I heard "Hey!" Crap I forgot to rune myself. "You, wait!" They said.

"You, piss off," I muttered. When I heard feet slapping against concrete, getting louder and louder, I reached into my jacket and grabbed my seraph blade. I turned around, the blade shinning out. "I said piss off!" My face fell. There was no one there.

A hand grabbed my elbow, twisting me till I was on the ground. I could barely move my arm let alone strike at them. The blade was ripped out my hand and I felt something press against the back of my neck, "And I said wait," The muttered.

a burning sensation ran along my back. It was too familiar. It was a rune. I began thrashing when spots began to appear in my vision, and everything went black.

Valentine was the first thing I saw when I woke up. "you're finally awake," He grinned. The smile dropped, "Now you're going to answer some questions,"

In the time valentine had captured me the only runes I'd had on was the agony rune. Valentine was persistent, making me relive mistakes and feel things I couldn't describe. The lights were on 24/7. I have no clue what day it is or how long id been here. Sleep was impossible.

I wasn't the only one. Often, I heard feet scuffling and chains clanking as more people were dragged into a cell. The sound of doors slamming and the echoing of screams. The silence was the worst. You didn't know if they were listening.

The rooms were small. You could lay down diagonally or curl up and lay down normally. For every 'good thing,' you did you got a reward. Pillows, blankets, better food. Every bad thing meant pain. Downworlders would be runed which would almost kill them, shadowhunters got agony runes.

We were able to talk but most people chose not to. Some were new and afraid of more punishment and some had been here so long they seemed to forget how to. At one point a werewolf was in the cell next to me. We talked as much as we could. Something to fill the silence.

"Hey, Sam?" I whispered. No reply, "Sam?" silence. Maybe they were sleeping. I was quiet till I heard feet scuffling, chains clanking, and doors slamming. I waited till it was silent then I waited some more. I knocked on the wall connecting us, "Sam?"

"My names Dave," they whispered back.

"Never mind,"

Dave was gone soon too. Though I had to listen to how he left. he kept banging against the wall. Thud thud thud. Then it went quiet. he never made another noise.

Eventually, Valentine stopped coming down. We weren't free though. Sebastian said he had given him control. He was worse.

Why wouldn't they kill me? I wondered every night. They stopped questioning me as often, I had nothing more to give.

The only thing keeping me going was the memories. Sneaking out to parties, going out to missions, birthday parties. Anting else. The memories started to become foggy. I started to forget their voices, the way they laughed, if it was upstairs or downstairs.

I was brought out this haze by the sound of the door sliding open, chains clanking, but no scuffles. Whoever it was wasn't fighting. The cell door slammed shut and the person said nothing.

When I tried to sleep I couldn't. all I could hear was this guy pacing. That meant I could also hear the chains dragging along. I snapped, "Can you sit down!?" I whisper yelled.

The pacing stopped, "Hello?" The whispered back. "Whose there?"

"None of your damn business, sit down. I'm trying to sleep!" I whispered.

"Sorry. I didn't realise anyone was here,"

"So, you're in the first cell?" I said.

"The first?"

"Theirs at least 12 in this room,"

"There are other rooms?"

"I think so," I said. He sounded familiar but I couldn't place it.

"How long have you been here?"

I froze, "I-I don't know. The lights don't go off," He didn't reply.

We began to talk over the time he was there. When he asked my name, I told him we didn't do that here. Don't trust anyone. We talked about anything else. Places we'd been, favourite foods, anything really.

"What's your favourite color?" He asked.

"(Y/F/C) "I said without hesitation.

"Really? I had a friend whose whole room was (Y/F/C). literally everything. The duvet, the curtains, even their towels were (Y/F/C)"

"Goals," I smiled, "When you get out of here where's the first place you're going to go?"

"There's this café in Brooklyn. The same friend showed me it a few years back. We go there every week,"

"It's cool you and your friend do that," I said, "I'm sure they're waiting for you,"

"No um," he stammered something, "They um left. almost a year ago they left and never came back."

"Where did they go?"

"I-I'm not sure,"

"Was it during a mission?"

"No. they just vanished," He said, "they had a weapon on them and everything. The clave said they probably ran away but...but something just doesn't feel right,"

He went silent. The silence was a thick, uncomfortable fog, "What were they like?" I asked.

"You would've liked them. They lit up every room. Nothing was ever serious when they were around. No matter how many demons in a mission they'd still make a joke. There was this feeling when I was around them. Everything went calm. You know that feeling you get when you go over a speed bump? It was like that when they laughed. Everything just seemed to fall into place," you could hear the smile on their face.

"You miss them?" I asked.

There was a pause, "All the time," you could hear his voice crack.

Silence hung in the air. I didn't ask another question. As time went on, I realised it had been a while since someone had been here. There were no screams, no chains clanking. Nothing. Then the lights turned off.

"I thought you said the lights didn't turn off," He said, panicking.

"They don't," I said, standing up. "Get ready,"

"For what?"

"I don't know but I want to have a chance when we find out,"

[kiruuuuu]

Oneshot in which Thermite, Bandit and Kapkan, uh, deal with the... unusual aftermath of a mission. (Rating T, supernatural shenanigans, ~1.5k words) - written for @r6shippingdelivery​! 💗

.

It starts out entirely innocent.

Well, maybe not really since raiding a White Mask lab intended to research biochemical warfare is inherently not innocent at all, but the quiet week afterwards is – Thermite is recovering from a graze shot, Bandit broke a finger and Kapkan got stabbed, so they’re out of the mix and don’t have to worry about clean-up duty or chasing the terrorists over several continents. Instead, they laze around at base, throw popcorn at each other, gossip and waste time. Worrying about their teammates is second nature but it becomes significantly more bearable with the impromptu barbecues Thermite keeps initiating, the sips of vodka here and there which Kapkan provides and the innumerable activities Bandit thinks up to stave off boredom.

Still, Thermite wasn’t prepared to wake up one morning with the two operators sitting on the bed opposite him and staring into his soul. With a heartfelt curse, the American jolts upright, heart racing and mind already providing the worst case scenarios. “What happened? Did anyone die?”

Bandit softens a little (which is an unusual sight) and shakes his head. “No, everything’s fine. …Well, mostly.”

This doesn’t bode well. “What’s up? Why are you here?”

“Promise to not tell anyone and promise not to scream”, Kapkan demands quietly and Thermite nods straightaway. He’s always up for being let in on a secret and though he might not be the best one at keeping it when he’s loose and relaxed and drunk, he tries his best.

Before his eyes, Kapkan disappears.

Thermite screams.

When the blackness fades again, Bandit is holding him down with a look of concern and amusement. “That was about my reaction too”, he informs the still thrashing Thermite casually. “Only I didn’t throw pillows at him.”

Kapkan, now again fully visible, scoffs. “You threw a knife. As if I could be defeated by that.”

“What the fuck”, Thermite breathes and shakes the German off to rub at his face. “What the fuck, Maxim. Can you -”

Next to him, Bandit holds up his index fingers and turns them into fucking Tesla coils or something because suddenly, there’s lightning arcing from one to the other and the electricity makes Thermite’s arm hair stand up.

He screams again.

“The White Masks are fucking with things that should’ve been left unfucked”, Kapkan grumbles while Bandit struggles to calm down an agitated Thermite. “My guess is that our injuries allowed some shit in the air to react in our bodies.”

Wait.

“Wait”, says Thermite. “Are you saying -”

“Try it.” Bandit nods encouragingly. “It’s a bit like flexing a muscle in your temple. At first, it was really exhausting and hard to do, but we’ve already become better at it.”

Because he’s still too dumbstruck to second-guess his friends’ words, he obliges. There really is something, almost like a new limb or one he never felt like this before, and like Bandit said, it’s hard to isolate. He closes his eyes, focuses and tenses the new addition to his body, tries again and again -

And then the smoke alarm starts going nuts.

“Shit”, Kapkan mutters and defeatedly eyes the burning mattress next to him.

.

“We can’t let anyone know.” The disembodied voice follows the soft sound of footsteps around the workshop. Thermite is trying to burn HARRY SUX into the surface of one of the old tables, yet his control isn’t advanced enough and so the first three letters only end up spelling out GAY. Bandit is charging his phone and looking horrendously smug. “They’re gonna cart us off and treat us like zoo animals. So let’s keep it low, shall we?”

“I’m definitely telling my boys”, Bandit objects. “They’ll be dying of envy, Mark especially.”

“No. No telling. Do you want to end up dissected on some mad scientist’s table?”

“Shouldn’t we at least tell Six? In case the White Masks have injected themselves with this stuff and gone Hulk.”

Kapkan is silent for a moment and makes Thermite jump when he accidentally brushes against him. It’s still horribly uncanny. “All the material has been reviewed already. Doc would know if the formula to this… whatever it is was among the intel we recovered. You likely blew it up, Jordan.”

“From all we know, this doesn’t protect us against bullets anyway, so we’re good. As long as they don’t manage to use these abilities to put on a circus show so distracting we forget to do our jobs, I think we’ll be fine.” Bandit turns the overhead lamp into a strobe light which gets old after about four seconds.

“So that’s it? We just don’t let anyone know and never use this shit?” Thermite can’t believe it. He’s become a real life firebender and Kapkan is demoting him immediately.

“I mean – I never said we wouldn’t use it.”

.

The next week is the best of Thermite’s entire life so far.

He learns how to make crème brûlée purely so he can caramelise the sugar on top, constantly ignites Kapkan’s vodka shots and has no trouble heating up his food anymore. He develops the precision necessary to burn single words off a page and to turn up the heat until he can melt metal, does a few failed experiments trying to form glass and eventually makes his own out of sand and annoys both his friends by making cutlery unusable.

Kapkan figures out how to make other objects invisible and thus forces the other two to remember the exact layout and furniture of every room on base lest their toes suffer some more, and he causes them to sharpen their hearing if they don’t want to end up covered in yoghurt again. When he realises his invisible form isn’t bound to his normal physical shape but more bendable, they start smuggling him into public places in a bag and then watch other people’s confusion when they walk back out together. They also eat like kings after Kapkan wrestles a deer while invisible.

Bandit makes light switches and electric plugs obsolete, powers the coffee machine from his bed whenever he’s lazy and texts them to bring him a cup, fries his phone in a demonstration of how fast he can charge it and manages to type on a keyboard without using his fingers. He realises he can hotwire vehicles without messing with cables and has to be deterred from stealing an admittedly fetching Lamborghini they spot one day, but the highlight is him going outside during a thunderstorm, hands outstretched towards the heavens, disregarding the rain, and yelling against the thunder until lightning strikes him directly.

All three of them are in awe and horror.

“We can’t let anyone know”, Bandit reiterates and tries unsuccessfully to flatten his wild hair.

.

The next day, the others return. Making up excuses becomes second nature.

“I microwaved a grape earlier, that’s why it’s broken”, Kapkan lies in passing and gracefully accepts the bollocking which follows.

“I must’ve dropped a cigarette, that’s why it’s burnt”, Bandit lies casually and shrugs at the lecture he receives.

“I was watching a film, that’s what you must’ve heard”, Thermite lies easily and dismisses the concerns about a ghost on the base.

And then, a few days later, Thermite organises a barbecue, starts preparing everything outside while humming to himself, singing along to the small wireless and taking a sip of the beer Ash brought him from the States, and he’s content, relaxed, and unfocused. While lighting the coal, he juggles a little with a flame, makes it dance in the air and eventually spell out his name, and then someone gasps and the sound of something shattering echoes between the buildings. A single glance tells Thermite it wasn’t only the glasses Dokkaebi was carrying but also his dreams.

She’s white as a sheet.

“Neat magic trick, huh?”, he tries lamely.

.

Harry has his head in his hands.

“When were you planning to tell me?”, he wants to know quietly.

“Well”, says Kapkan. “You know”, says Bandit. “Actually”, says Thermite.

“Talk to Doc. Explain it to him. Get a thorough check-up. Report to Olivier, James, anyone who might have more information on this. And please, please don’t go out in public or blow anything up.”

.

It fades. As fun as it was, it’s a bit of a relief for everyone involved because it makes their lives that much easier. Doc can finally sleep again after researching himself silly, the worried glances from their friends and teammates stop and they don’t have to hold back anymore. That was the worst part: living in fear of accidentally causing harm. All three agree it’s for the better and go back to their usual routine, sighing in annoyance when they have to switch the television on manually, but going back is a lot easier.

And when Bandit sometimes smokes despite having forgotten his lighter, and when Kapkan’s phone has a suspiciously long battery life, and when Thermite knows a little too much about how Fuze’s date went, they still don’t tell anyone.

[soitmightgetweird]

Nightmares

Bucky x reader

Summary: a bad night leads to a change in your relationship with your neighbor

Warnings: abduction, angst, fluff at the end because I can’t be entirely terrible

Word Count: 2632

A/N: This has been sitting in my writing app since before my anxiety attack. I’m always more comfortable with posting fluff since I don’t think I do angst well. But here it is, another angsty Bucky story. I apologize–but I still hope you enjoy it!

It was an ordinary evening of watching Netflix until you heard a tentative knock at your front door. After a couple seconds of grabbing at your blanket so it remained securely around your shoulders, you padded over to the door, opening it wide to reveal the large frame of one of your neighbors blocking the view of the rest of the hallway. You shuffled aside and he wordlessly made his way into your living room and plopped down on the furthest end of the couch.

The show you were watching probably wasn’t something Bucky was interested in, but given that he didn’t even greet you when you opened the door, you figured he was still in his quiet spell so you didn’t bother engaging with him yet. And that was fine. You understood he was like that sometimes.

He and Steve explained once why they often sought you out after harder missions. Even though their little two bedroom apartment across from yours was physically separate from the compound, sometimes it still felt the same. They liked your place because it was obviously different. Your furniture was plush and colorful instead of pale and modern, your walls were covered with pictures of you with friends and paintings you’d done yourself, and you had an extensive movie collection. Everything was a wonderful distraction.

And the best part, they said, was you. You were a breath of fresh air. You had your own job with your own life and they found comfort in listening to you talk about what was going on in your world.

It seemed like no time at all passed before Bucky’s posture shifted beside you. He took a deep breath as his legs stretched out and his head fell back, casting his tired stare at the ceiling. His flexed his left hand a little, maybe working through a ghost pain in his arm. His right hand reached out to you and you didn’t hesitate to link your fingers with his.

You felt guilty for enjoying these nights. It wasn’t that you were glad they had rough days, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love feeling needed. And by two guys who, for all intents and purposes, looked like they could each handle anything life threw at them plus some.

Most times, they came over as a pair. Steve would sit in your recliner and engage in small talk for a while. He’d ask about your day, your family, your fish, hoping something would prompt a story. He said you were really animated when you got excited. After he felt calm enough, he’d pull you to your feet and wrap his arms around you in an amazing hug and thank you for being like an anchor to him. Then he’d tell you to take care of Bucky and go back across the hall and try to sleep.

Bucky would start off present but not entirely, the thousand-yard stare common in those moments. He would curl into himself at first, feet tucked underneath him or knees up against his chest as he huddled against the left arm of your couch. He’d listen to your voice as you rambled to Steve, and every now and then you’d catch an emotion flicker across his handsome face. Finally, his body would relax and he would seek contact with you. Usually he’d reach for your hand, but sometimes he’d stretch out on the couch and rest his head in your lap.

You had always been able to roll your eyes at the flirtatious side of him when he was in a good mood. You’d heard plenty of stories about 1940s Bucky and you thought maybe he was just slipping into old, comfortable habits. But it was in some of the quieter moments, as you were running your hand through his hair and he was drawing lazy patterns against your knee with his finger, that you started thinking there might be actual feelings involved.

You jumped when there was another knock at the front door. You stood again and walked over, thinking it a bit strange that Steve would knock instead of just coming in. A moment later, Bucky was beside you. He was still quiet–you didn’t even hear him leave the couch. The door knob started to rattle and you gasped, feeling a panic creep into your bones. You found yourself unable to catch your breath and a lump formed in your throat as everything in you suddenly screamed something was wrong.

The red pinpoint of a laser landed on your wall a second before the door crashed open. Men in black combat gear rushed your apartment, grabbing both you and Bucky and dragging you into the hallway. Your heart rate skyrocketed as you tried to make sense of all the yelling. Bucky’s thrashed against the two men trying to keep him in their grasp, growling at them the whole time in a voice that was angry and deep. You couldn’t understand his words but you knew he was furious. And your captors weren’t making sense either. It sounded Russian, but it also sounded jumbled.

You couldn’t find your voice to scream. Were you even fighting as they pulled you both through the hallway? Where was Steve? This was clearly enough noise to draw attention and he had super soldier hearing…

They must’ve knocked you out, because your surroundings had changed. Your hands were bound behind your back as you sat slouched in the cargo space of a work van. A grunt escaped your lips as the driver hit a pothole and your head snapped back, making contact with hard surface behind you.

A harsh voice actually speaking English from the driver’s seat brought your attention away from your growing headache.

“No, take him to the second location.”

Realization made your blood run cold. Your eyes flew around the space, as if you’d somehow missed a rather large additional person tied up with you. Bucky was gone. They’d separated you and you had no idea where either of you were going.

Moments later the van stopped and you were dragged toward a decrepit looking shed in the middle of a forest. And you fought back that time. You tried digging your feet into the dirt as one of the men pulled you forward, and you kicked out as they hooked your arms around the back of a chair. You flung curses at them as they spat anger back at you in not-quite-Russian. Once they were satisfied with their restraints, they turned and left you alone.

The space was small and it didn’t take long to scan over everything in the room, hoping there was something that could help you out of the mess you’d found yourself in.

You weren’t sure if time was flying or crawling as you sat there but obviously there was an undeniable sense of urgency to get out. You moved your arms, testing the strength of the rope that held your wrists together. Lifting one shoulder and pushing that elbow away from your body, you were able to twist your wrists until your hand slipped through the knot.

You exploded out of the chair, throwing the ropes across the small room. A quick peek through the gap in the door revealed no nearby guards. You were surprised that the door pushed open at the slightest touch, and without further hesitation you burst into the open space and ran.

Once you were home, no one believed you.

“Well, you’re back. That’s good!”

But it wasn’t good. Bucky was still missing. Steve was nowhere to be found. You had no idea how to get in touch with any of the others. Everyone looked at you with expressions somewhere between concern and condescension. And it was infuriating and frustrating and all too much.

“You don’t understand!” you screamed as the faces all blurred together.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you lost the battle against your fear. A sob crept up your throat and when it finally broke though, you woke with a gasp.

Sitting straight up in your bed, you immediately noticed your elevated breathing. Wide eyes scanned your bedroom even though everything was still shrouded in darkness. In a flash, you remembered everything and all the emotions from your nightmare washed over you.

You squeezed your eyes shut as cries started quietly, but as the images of Bucky being dragged away from you burned into the inside of your eyelids, you found yourself almost hyperventilating.

He’d disappeared and God, you’d felt so helpless.

Throwing the covers from your body, you stumbled on shaky legs through the apartment. You flung your front door open and left it wide as you slumped against the door across the hall. It was an entirely new feeling for you. You just needed to see them. You needed to know they were alright and in one piece–anything to keep the spark of fear from catching and consuming you.

You didn’t even know if they were home. They could’ve been on a mission or at the compound, then what would you do? Turning your back to their door, you wrapped your arms around your knees and coughed out another sob. You mind was still so foggy you couldn’t even remember if you knocked or not. But if they were home, they’d hear you, right?

Right?

If you hadn’t been securely wrapped around yourself, you would’ve fallen backwards when the door opened. A strong pair of arms lifted you from the ground before you really had a chance to react.

Steve.

Your head fell against his shoulder as he cut through their living room and kicked at a door.

“Buck! Wake up and get out here.”

As soon as Bucky’s door opened, his face paled. You were sure you looked like a small mess in Steve’s arms. You shut your eyes again to try to keep from crying out, instead really focusing on taking deep breaths to calm down.

Bucky took you from Steve and stared around his living room. “Where d'you wanna be, sweetheart? What’s gonna be most comfortable?”

“Doesn’t matter. I just need to.. to make sure you’re alright.” You were already breathing easier but you still reached up and grabbed the material of his tank top in your hand.

His hair tickled your face as he leaned down to try to catch your eyes. “To make sure I’m alright?”

“They took you. Us. Th-they took us. And separated us. B-but I got away. I dunno how. I just…”

“Um. Who took us?”

“I dunno. Guys in black gear.”

Bucky made a noise in his throat as he carried you back across the hall with Steve following close behind. He placed you in the middle of the couch and took a step toward your room when he noticed your hand was still gripping his shirt. “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, allowing Bucky to leave your side.

Steve called out to you as he made his way to the kitchen. “Tea or hot chocolate?”

You told him your preference then leaned over, hiding your face in your hands and listening to Steve rummage around to make your drink. What must they think of you, so freaked out by a nightmare that you cowered against their front door in the middle of the night. Would they still see strength when they looked at you?

You straightened up when you heard the boys returning–Steve approaching with a steaming mug at the same time Bucky came back with your comforter bundled in his arms. Bucky draped the blanket around your shoulders, tucking it close to your body.

As Steve was heading for the front door, Bucky turned to his friend. “Steve, where-”

He turned and looked over his shoulder with a faint smirk. “I think you guys need to talk through some stuff, and that’ll be easier if I’m not here.”

The silence that settled over your living room after Steve’s departure wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but it was heavy. You were surprised when Bucky spoke first.

“I uh, I think we’re in trouble here, doll.”

There was a split second of worry before you looked over and saw his expression. A soft smile rested on his face as he shook his head.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead continuing with a question. “You know that’s a possibility with me, right?”

“Being abducted?”

“For all of us really, but for me especially. With my past and all…”

You pulled the comforter tighter around you. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“I have those nightmares too–about those Nazi bastards comin’ back for me. Used to be pretty common until recently. It… ah, it changed a while ago and now… now I dream that they come for you.”

He finished his confession so quietly, you weren’t sure if what you heard was actually what he said.

“Me? Bucky, you… you think they’ll come for me?”

You watched him fidget next to you. His flesh and cybernetic hands wrung together and his eyes fell to the floor, allowing his hair to shield his face from your questioning stare. His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, but he remained quiet.

After a minute of silence, you wriggled out of your blanket cocoon and turned your body toward the super soldier beside you. You wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, but you also didn’t want to invade his space in case he was deep in his thoughts.

Bucky kept his face hidden but reached out and grabbed your hand, bringing it back closer to his body. It pulled you forward a bit but you didn’t mind. A second later, he gave a quick squeeze to your hand and finally turned to look into your eyes.

“You’ve been great, y'know? I’ve had a lot of doubts about whether I deserve to be fighting side-by-side with the good guys… whether some of the decisions I make or actions I take on missions are countin’ for me or against me. You’ve helped me calm down and take control of my thoughts and I can’t thank you enough. Steve appreciates everything you do for him too…”

You huffed out a shallow breath and found you were the one looking down that time. “Buck, it sounds like you’re about to say goodbye.”

A bitter laugh escaped through his lips and he shook his head. “I should be. And it’s been in my head for months.”

Your face heated up as he stopped speaking. So maybe you were the only one with a crush. “I mean if that’s how you feel…” you trailed off with a sniffle and tried to pull your hand from Bucky’s grasp.

His grip tightened. “Not a chance, darlin. Sure, maybe we shouldn’t have gotten close to you in the first place but we… I can’t just drop you. There’s… there’s feelings involved now.”

Your eyes widened as you finally looked up again.

“Just from me. Not that reckless punk I live with.”

A small laugh bubbled up from your chest and your other hand flew to your mouth when it escaped. Bucky’s shoulders relaxed considerably when he heard the noise.

You took a deep breath. “So I uh… yeah I guess I’m in the same boat as you then,” your voice came out a bit quieter than you intended but it still made the super soldier grin.

“Doesn’t necessarily make this easier though.”

“I know.”

A comfortable silence fell over your living room as you both took in the new information.

“So,” you said, trying to ease back into conversation. “Where do we go from here?”

“I’m asking Tony to improve the security in this building. As for everything else… I guess we’ll just see where it goes.”

Tags [are open]: @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @scarlettsoldier @feelmyroarrrr @shakzer00 @pixierox101 @chrevastan

[starrywinters]

7 Minutes!AU — Park Jihoon Fic

requested by anon!

genre: fluff

synopsis: both jihoon and you secretly loves each other, both of you are oblivious to the other’s feelings but everyone else can clearly see it, and you don’t confess until you play 7 minutes in heaven.

Ever heard of the saying, “A guy and a girl can be best friends and stay as best friends”? Yeah, that’s a lie. One will bound to fall for the other, if not maybe both will fall for each other. Sometimes at the right time, sometimes at the wrong.

“Hey Y/N! Mommy said we kiss the one we love when we’re older. So. when we’re older, I’m definitely going to give you many many kisses!” Stretches his arms as far as he can to emphasize his point.

That was said by a five-year-old Park Jihoon, your childhood friend since diapers. The one who is always there to mend your pain away and sooth your anger.

–

“LEE DAEHWI. YOU LIL-” You began, stomping your feet and splashing droplets of water everywhere, sentence cutting off as Jihoon pulls you into a hug. You wetting his entire self in the process. It was just like any other day where Lee Daehwi, your best friend, would pull a prank on you. One time it was tampering with your alarm clock, another time with a caramel ONION. Yes, onion, instead of an apple he used an onion.

This time, a bucket of water and a classroom door was involved. You can already guess what happened. You opened the door to your first period class and the whole bucket of water fell. On you. Not on Jihoon, who was standing beside you the whole time. No, it fell on you.

Already a Senior in high school, Daehwi has still not grown out of his childish side. Sinking yourself more fully into Jihoon’s warm embrace, you slowly calm down. The thought of getting revenge on Daehwi at the back of your mind. Standing at the doorway, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, someone can be heard clearing their throat behind you. Bae Jinyoung, Daehwi’s accomplice in most of his pranks and Daehwi’s #1 best friend.

Grinning, waggling his eyebrows, and winking at you two, “Hey lovebirds, stop blocking the doorway and keep your PDA indoors please.”

Never separating from your hug, “Shut up Jinyoung, you and Daehwi got her mad again. When will you two stop?” He pats your head slowly, lulling you into a sleep. But at the same time, it isn’t helping your situation as your heart begins to pound against your chest harder and faster. Yes, you have a mAJOr crush on Park Jihoon, your childhood best friend. What a surprise.

“Dunno, maybe never?” Seeing that you aren’t paying attention to them anymore he mutters to Jihoon, “We’re doing this for your sake bro, let us live a little. These are the only chances where you are bold enough to hug Y/N. When will you confess to her?”

Unfortunately for Jihoon, that was when you came back to the real world, finally separating from Jihoon’s hug. “Confess what? And to who?”

“N-nothing! Jinyoung is just saying nonsensical things like he usually does, le-let’s go to class, the bell’s about to ring.”

–

The bell rang as lunch period began

Literally stomping to your table, Jihoon right behind you, you see Daehwi sitting with Jinyoung, chatting very animatedly. ’Hah, not anymore you little devil.’ Wringing the collar of his shirt in your hands, “LEE DAEHWI. HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STOP WITH THE DAMN PRANKS. IT’S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE.”

And here comes Jihoon, your personal teddy bear. Bringing you into another hug, you hiding your face in the crook of his neck again, slowly calming down your anger and breathing. During that whole process of you trying trying to calm down, your stomach growls. Loudly. To hide from further embarrassment, you dig your face further into Jihoon’s neck and curl yourself up, practically sitting on his lap.

Across from you sits Jinhwi, witnessing everything, “Eewww, guys, please. I feel like throwing up.” Dramatically, ”Jinyoung, take me to the restroom.”

“You can go yourself, you have legs.” And he indulges himself with his slice of pizza, ignoring the nonstop blabbering to the right of him. Offended, he turns to you and Jihoon, but ends up staying mum since you were still sitting on Jihoon’s lap as he’s hugging you. Daehwi knew you were still mad, so he proposes a compromise.

“Ok so Y/N, i’m sorry I pulled another prank on you, this will be the last time. I promise. So to make it up to you– HEY! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!??1”

Repositioning yourself so you’re facing him, head against Jihoon’s chest, you glare at him. If glares could kill, Daehwi would’ve been long gone already. “What?”

“As I was saying, to make up for my childish actions, i’m inviting you to the party I got invited to last period. It’s this Saturday at Kang Daniel’s place. You know, the popular jock?” As expected of the ever friendly chatterbox Lee Daehwi.

Closing your eyes, you feel Jihoon’s grip tighten around you (be it unconsciously or not, you really liked it) and you focus on the vibrations as he talks, “I don’t know Daehwi, Y/N doesn’t do parties. You know that.”

“Ok but, just give this one a chance. You can leave early if you don’t like it, but at least stay there for 5 minutes? C’mon! It’s senior year, please?”

–

’Curse Daehwi and his cuteness. Evil otter lookalike.’ Were the thoughts that ran through your head as you stood outside your door, pouting, waiting for Jihoon to arrive. Wherever you go, Jihoon goes. You dragged him with you to the party since you didn’t want to be alone, plus you needed a savior if ever Daehwi or Jinyoung comes up with something fishy at the party. Which they will do, you can feel it.

“I don’t get it, why do I have to be here,” childishly stomping your feet, you complain to Jihoon.

Jihoon chuckling, “Because you fell for Daehwi’s cute acts. Like always.” Shaking his head in amusement.

“lisTEN, you do too ok?? Don’t target only mE.”

–

Knocking on the front door of captain of the dance team, Kang Daniel, you were let in and greeted by him. You can tell he’s a teeny bit tipsy as he leaned in to give you a hug, but you don’t even know him?? Jealous, Jihoon drags you away and closer to him. In the back, he can see Daehwi giggling to Jinyoung. Narrowing his eyes at them. ’Now, what is their motive?’

Yes, this isn’t their first time trying to set him up with you. They’ve been trying ever since they’ve met the both of you, almost giving up as they felt discouraged since they were getting nowhere. But once they found the both of you are actually really in love with each other, their motivation skyrocketed.

Throughout the night, Daniel and a few other guys consecutively tries to approach you, to get you to have a few drinks with them. Most of the time, Jihoon’s the one rejecting the offers, rarely do you ever get a chance to say (not like you’ll ever accept anyway).

Other than that, you actually had fun. Jihoon didn’t, he spent majority of the time glaring guys off.

A few minutes later, Daehwi bounces towards your direction, yelling out, “HEY Y/N, JIHOON! LET’S GO PLAY A GAME WITH THE OTHERS, JINYOUNG’S ALREADY THERE SAVING US A SPOT.” Pulling on your right arm and Jihoon’s left, “C’MON LET’S GO!”

–

And that’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor in a bedroom with many other people, staring at the spinning bottle on the floor. You still don’t understand the point of this game, ’what’s the name of it again? 7 minus oven? What? What kind of-.’

The first round’s pair was chosen, Ong Seongwoo and Kang Daniel (ONGNIEL(((;). They came out 7 minutes later, hair and clothes disheveled. What the heck is this game? Lost, you look to your right, where Jihoon sat. Understanding your confused gaze, he shrugs. ’I don’t know either Y/N.’

–

Your heart was beating rapidly, your breath hitching. You felt dizzy, nervous, your palms are sweaty. You’re pretty sure if the lights were on, the bright pink that dusted your cheeks can be easily seen. How you ended up here? You were chosen by the bottle for the third round, the other person you’re not sure who.

“H-hey, I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” Hoping to start a conversation and not do what the previous pairs did, you ask for the identity of the other person.

You feel movement, shifting closer and closer to you. He pulls you into a hug, at first you panic. Thrashing in his hold, trying to get out, but once you recognized the warmth the body radiated and the feel of the body you stop. What didn’t stop, however, was your beating heart. And that is where you are now.

You feel another set of heart beats, coming from the person who is currently holding you. “Jihoon? Why’re you holding onto me?”

“Because I don’t know when the next chance I’ll get to bravely hold you in my arms is. I’m a coward, I’m not able to hug you in broad daylight or for no reason. I want to do this now to get everything over with. Y/N, you’re literally the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. You were there for me when we were young, you never left me. Even when I was going through that phase where I stayed away from you for a few weeks because you had cooties -feeling offended, “NO I DID NOT, YOU HAD COOTIES NOT ME”- You dealt with the pain in the butt I am, and you dealt with my terrible fashion sense. Thank you for being my best friend, but I don’t think I can stay a ‘best friend’ anymore. I’ve fallen for you, hard. I’m in love with you, since 6th grade actually, and I want to take this to the next level, if you’ll let me. So, Y/N, will you agree to date this pink-colored loving boy and do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?”

Taking a few minutes to gather your thoughts and keep your heart from leaping out in joy, he nervously smiles awaiting your response.

“I-i yes! YES! I will, I’ve been in love with you since 6th grade too, when you first came to school dressed in pink. Not giving a care to what others thought about you and how you kept moving on, always trying to make me happy by hugging me to calm me down. So, yes, I will date you and I will be your boyfriend.”

Leaning further into the hug you look up at him, leaning up closer you initiate the first move. Slowly moving forward, you peck him slightly on the lips–and that is when the door opens.

Bae Jinyoung is stood there, grinning like he won the lottery, “Oho, what’s this? Are you two finally together?” Speeding off towards Daehwi, he screams, “DAEHWI! DAEHWI! HWIIIIIII, I WON THE BET, PAY UP BRO!”

Upset, you chase after him (Jihoon once again on your tail) “YAH! BAE JINYOUNG, LEE DAEHWI, YOU BETTED ON US?!?!???”

–

Sitting on Jihoon’s laps, the amount of PDA done intensifies. This time it’s more romantically than platonically. Small and short kisses were being stolen from time to time, staring into each other’s eyes were happening more often, and playing with each other’s fingers became a small competitive game between the both of you.

“GUYs, where is the gratefulness?? We don’t deserve this diSRESPECT especially since we helped get you two together.”

“YES JINYOUNG IS RIGHT, ALSO STOP FLIRTING IN FRONT OF US. MY EYES ARE BURNING.”

“Shut up Daehwi, you’re just jealous Jinyoung hasn’t asked you out yet.” (JINHWI(((((;)

“i-”

unedited!

y’all i typed this at 4AM and i kind of squealed, giggled, and smiled (very widely) as i typed this story…uhM like my heart??? was?? melting???? and i need to stOP???

anyway! i hope you like it! ♡

[talllankyandawkward]

True Connections (Part 4)

"Steve I fucking told you to get her out of there!"

"It was not my call to make!"

You heard angry whisper yelling. You weren't conscious enough to move, but you heard the conversation going on between two men.

"Bullshit it was not your call. You promised me you would keep her safe. You promised me that Steve. I- I can't lose her man." You heard a voice say sadly. You felt yourself finally waking up. You began to open your eyes and was met with a blazing bright light. You groaned.

"Turn that god damn light off." You told the two men standing in the room. You heard the click of the lights and you opened your eyes fully. You slowly brought yourself to a seated position trying to ignore the pounding migraine you had. You saw Bucky and Steve in the room. You were not in your hotel bed or your bed at the Avenger's tower.

"Where am I," you asked them.

"In the medical ward of the tower. We took you straight home after you blacked out. You have been out cold for 3 days." Steve told you.

"Shit..." You said as you shook your head then winced, "Good lord. I have the mother of all headaches right now." You told them cradling your head in your hands.

"I told you to get out of there." Bucky opened his mouth.

"I had a job to finish." You told him flatly.

"You almost got yourself killed."

"I think that is an exaggeration."

"No. It is not. The wave length they put it up to could have killed you. You are lucky it didn't." Bucky told you getting angrier.

"Bucky, it is a part of my job. I knew what I was doing."

"No. You didn't. Why couldn't you just listen to me!" Bucky yelled and you flinched at the throbbing in your head that came from the loud noise.

"Because Steve was right. It was my call to make. Not yours." Steve flinched.

"Hey leave me out of this." He said as he put his hands up defensively.

"You are so stubborn. You just cared about the damn mission. You didn't care about your own safety." Bucky yelled at you. You winced at the pain again but you were not going to take this.

"You listen to me Barnes and you listen well. I know damn well how to take care of myself. I have been doing so since I was 12. I don't need you to baby sit me. I cared about myself but the mission was more important. If we knock out HYDRA we stop more people from being killed. We end the possibility of people becoming like you or me. I was looking past my own safety for the billions of other people on the planet." You told him hotly through your teeth. You saw objects begin to lift off the ground but you didn't care. You were not going to take this laying down.

"Next time you hear an order you need to listen to it." He told you flatly.

"You are not my commanding officer Barnes!" You yelled ignoring the massive pounding in your head. "I am not going to let people blindly boss me around!"

"Well excuse me for looking out for someone I care about!" He screamed at you.

"You need to learn to separate yourself from work. You can't bring your personal life into your job! That's how you get killed!"

"Well we can't all be heartless and unfeeling like you," he yelled. You froze. You were in shock he said it. Steve was too, he looked between you and Bucky. The room was silent for almost a minute. The only sound was Bucky and your heavy breathing. Steve tried to open his mouth and say something but you beat him to it.

"Get. out." You told them angrily.

"What?" They both turned and looked at you. You didn't feel like repeating yourself. You just wanted to be away form them.

"Fine. Then I am getting out." You said as you got up and shoved past them. When you left the room you heard everything crash to the ground. You were done with this shit. The pain in your head subdued for the moment from your rage. You got to the elevator and went to your floor. You kept your hand on the rail in the elevator. You were still pissed but the throbbing began to catch up to you. You heard the ding and you got off. You got a glass of water and went straight to your bed. You closed the door and fell onto your bed.

"Miss (Y/N)," You heard F.R.I.D.A.Y. try to whisper, "Steve is wanting to get into your room."

"Tell him no. I will talk to him when this migraine goes away. For now I need to futilely use painkillers and water to try to get rid of it, even though I know it won't work."

"Yes ma'am, I shall tell him." You heard the AI say that and with that you knew you were finally alone and in silence. You lay like that for hours it felt like. Until you heard a door slam. You jumped at the noise. You realized Bucky was now in his room. Your brain reeled through the events that transpired earlier that day. You weren't unfeeling... it wasn't your fault... Before tears began to spill you stopped yourself. You needed someone with you. You did not need to be alone right now.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. get Wanda please."

"She is on her way."

"Thank you."

You sat at the foot of your bed, your head throbbing. You held your head in your hands. You heard the door open and you looked up. It was Wanda. Before you could do anything else you finally broke down. Wanda closed the door and rushed to your side.

"Am I heartless and unfeeling?" You asked her softly.

"No! You would not be crying right now if you were. Why would you think such a thing," she asked you appalled. You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you explained what happened on the mission and the fight you two had earlier. Wanda hugged you.

"возлюбленная, (Sweetheart)  Don't you listen to him. You are the most kind hearted person I have met. You always put other's needs before your own. Why did you not want to use your powers? You didn't want to hurt anyone. Why did you want to finish that mission? For the people of earth. I do not know many people who would do that," she told you firmly. You sniffed and wiped your eyes. You gave her a hug, "Now, I know you have a huge headache. So, I brought ibuprofen and you need to take some and sleep." You took the pain killers and drank the rest of your water.

"Miss (Y/N), Steve is in the hall and insisting he needs to talk to you," F.R.I.D.A.Y tells you.

"Fine. Let him in," you tell the AI. With that Steve enters your room. He sees you and Wanda on your bed.

"I'm going to kill him." He mutters under your breath.

"Get in line," Wanda tells him. You gave a small smile.

"(Y/N) I know he didn't mean what he said," Steve tried to tell you.

"Steve. If he didn't mean it then why did he say it," You asked him.

"I know what it seems but I can promise you he didn't mean it. He cares about you-"

"And that's why you are here and not him," You told him flatly.

"Well... I..."

"Steve, I appreciate the gesture. But, if he was sorry he would man up and apologize, not send his best friend to make excuses for him."

"I am sorry he said that to you (Y/N) I really am. And I will increase his training regimen if that makes you feel better," Steve told you. You gave him a small smile.

"You don't have to Steve. And please both of you, I don't want the whole team involved in this okay? This stays between us. If Bucky wants to tell people so be it," you told them and they agreed to keep it secret. "Now, can I get some sleep please? I need to sleep off this migraine." They both smiled at you. Wanda kissed your forehead and they left your room. You closed your eyes and you were out about the moment your head hit the pillow.

You were jolted awake. You felt something. It was Bucky's nightmares. You caught flashes of it again. It was just as bad as the last. You should have gone to get Steve but you didn't. You had to try sooner or later. Why not go ahead and do it when he is already mad at you. You sat up and connected with Bucky's mind. You focused on him and pulled him out of the dream. You slowly brought him back to consciousness. When you felt him awake knew he was going to either go to the kitchen or to your room. You fell back in your bed and grabbed a book. You were awake now, you might as well read.

Bucky was thrashing in his bed, drenched in sweat. Flashes of HYDRA and his past plagued his sleep. The bloodshed, the death, the confusion. Then he felt what felt like a hand pull him out of the dream. The flashbacks became fainter and fainter until he opened his eyes. He was confused. Usually it took Steve physically waking him up to end the nightmare but this time it was like someone pulled him out... Then he made the connection. You couldn't have. You had never done it before. But how else could he explain it.

He got up and went to the kitchen for some water. He remembered the first night you were on that floor. He had had a nightmare and you stayed up the whole night talking to him. He the memory off. He walked back to his room. He saw a light on in your room. He hesitated for a second before walking by it back to his room. You wouldn't want anything to do with him right now. He knew he fucked up and he was going to fix it.

[hamilkilo]

Storm Inside

Prompt: the boys have always been there for you, but now the tables have turned. A thunderstorm triggers intense PTSD for Alex, and y'all try to help him calm down.

Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad

TW: PTSD, vivid flashbacks, nightmares, breakdowns, thunderstorms, hallucinations, fluff???

A/N: hey, y'all! Just thought I'd bring you some Drabble before I go off to bed! It's short, I know, but hopefully it's sweet! I hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you want more on the idea of the boys with PTSD because honestly, I feel like irl Hamilsquad suffered from it after the revolutionary war. As always, thank you for all the love and support! I love you! Anyways, let me know if you need me to tag anything! I want you to feel safe when reading my work!

Word Count: 1081

You used to love thunderstorms. You used to leave your blinds open at night when a storm was raging outside just so that you could watch the lightning. You found the sound of thunder and rain soothing. After you'd met your boys, though, that changed.

They had all been enlisted in the army overseas, and they were involved in the Iraq war. They never talked much about it with you, and you never pushed them to. There were just some things people couldn't relive, and this was one of them.

It didn't rain a whole lot when you'd met, so you didn't know what to expect when a thunderstorm rolled in. You'd been asleep together in the bed like any other night. You woke up to Alex thrashing, having a vivid nightmare. This wasn't new. They all had vivid nightmares once in a while, and they each had the occasional therapy session for their PTSD. You could hear rain pelting outside, and the familiar sound soothed you. You wrapped an arm around Alex, trying to calm him down, which usually worked. But tonight was different. A loud crash of thunder rattled the house, and Alex jolted up with a start. He bolted upright, a wild look in his eyes, and he looked around the room.

"They're here!" He whispered as his head whipped around from side to side.

"Who's here?" You asked timidly as you watched him. He quickly got up, crawling over your boyfriends in the process.

"The others!" He replied quickly, darting over to the window and peeking through the blinds. He pulled away from them like something burned him, and began to pace the room like a mad man.

"No one's here, Alex. Come back to bed," you murmured, concern flaring. He paid you no attention.

"We've gotta get out of here! Before they catch us!" He dashed to Hercules, who was sound asleep on the edge of the bed, and began to shake him. "Herc, wake up!"

Herc groaned and rolled over, throwing an arm over his eyes. "What is it, Alex?" His voice was groggy and rough.

"We've gotta go! They're coming!" He pulled on Herc, who sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Alex continued to pull on him, still looking around the room, paranoid.

"We've gotta warn the others! Where's Washington?" His voice had gotten louder, which woke John up.

"Alex, whatever you're seeing right now, it's not real," Herc slowly explained, but Alex shook his head.

"No, you don't get it. They're out there, right now! I... I heard the explosions! And I can hear their gunshots! Listen!"

No one spoke as you listened for what he was talking about. Lafayette's breathing was light as he continued to sleep. The rain pelted the roof comfortingly. Another chorus of thunder shook the house, and Alex shouted.

"There!" He yelled out, "I told you! We've gotta go!"

Lafayette bolted up from Alex's sudden shouting, and he exclaimed something in French.

Herc got out of bed and grabbed Alex, who was now frantically pacing. He held his face between his hands, forcing the small, agitated man to look at him. "Alex, listen. You aren't there anymore. We came home a year ago. We never have to go back. We are home in New York City, and we are safe. There are no explosions. There is no gunfire. It's just a thunderstorm. You are safe. Okay? We aren't going anywhere."

Alex blinked and stared at him, then he let out a whimper, and his shoulders shook. He began to cry as Herc held onto him. "A-are you sure?" His voice was small and timid, and it broke your heart. You didn't know how much they struggled.

"I promise, sweet heart," Herc whispered before he pecked Alex on the forehead. Alex began to cry harder, and Herc gently pulled him back to bed. John moved from the room and went into the bathroom. He came back out with a glass of water and a pill.

"Here, darlin', this'll help you relax and go back to sleep," he explained, and Alex took the pill. Lafayette and you had watched, not contributing much. Then, Laf crawled over you and pulled Alex into his arms, holding him to his chest and whispering in French. Alex would occasionally reply in short, light French, and Laf would kiss his face. Herc was running his hands over Alex, as if to reassure him that they were still there. John was beside Lafayette, running his fingers through Alex's hair. You didn't know what to do. You didn't understand what he was going through. Your boyfriends did, though. They'd been together through it all. They were even together overseas, after all.

You reached out and grabbed Alex's hand in yours, squeezing gently. You had swiped your phone and headphones off the nightstand. You liked to listen to music before you fell asleep. You turned on Claire de Lune and pulled the headphones over his ears. You figured that the thunderstorm had triggered him. He gave you a grateful smile as you turned it up loud enough to drown out the storm. Herc nodded to you, silently thanking you for your quick thinking.

Alex eventually drifted back to sleep, and you left the headphones on. You didn't want the storm to wake him up again or trigger anything. You didn't pretend to know the challenges they were facing, but you were thankful that you could be there to support them through it. In the morning, Alex would vehemently apologize to all of you for being so "illogical" and scaring all of you. Although he didn't outright say it, you could tell he was embarrassed. He felt stupid for having such a breakdown, but you all assured him it was alright.

You didn't like thunderstorms so much though, anymore. Alex would toss and turn. Sometimes, he'd wake up screaming. One of you would get him a pill, and you'd have to calm him down. Sometimes, he'd pace the room, raving about "the others". You didn't know what had happened to any of them over there, but you knew it changed them. Alex was living proof. But you didn't care. You loved them all wholly, and you felt blessed that they trusted you to see them at their weakest.

After each thunderstorm, you fell asleep holding Alex's hand, reminding him that you weren't going anywhere. He fell asleep with a small smile on his face.

[salmonthestoryteller]

Cold Breakfast and Hot Green Tea

A Gravitation Fanfic

Ryuichi was exhausted. Mentally and physically. Starting with the infamous world tour that went along with his movies openings, moving onto the numerous interviews surrounding it, and finishing with other public appearances - mostly related to various charities and causes - he hadn’t had a moment’s peace. But peace was what he was about to have. Peace, quiet, a home cooked meal, and some well deserved pampering by the one person who made his hectic existence into something resembling a real life. That was the plan, anyhow. They were derailed by a text message as he exited the shinkansen at a stop in Kyoto. Simple, direct, and to the point.

‘Couch.’

Coming home to a pissed off lover had not been on Ryuichi Sakuma’s to do list.

The house was empty and dark, but the lanterns were lit at the temple. That meant Tatsuha was meditating. If it was dark and Tatsuha was meditating, it meant he was upset - not that the text wasn’t hint enough. Ryuichi wanted a bath, but the bath was traditional and he didn’t want to draw it now and leave it cold for Tatsuha. Normally Tatsuha would be there to tease him that as the eldest he should use the bath first. Usually he’d tease back that they should just use it together. Some days he’d be indulged on that whim - others Tatsuha would laugh and tell him he’d burn their dinner that way and send him off to get cleaned up with a brief kiss in consolation.

He turned on the lights in the house and set his suitcase in the hallway next to their bedroom - proof to the younger man that he was taking the text seriously but was also still hoping he’d change his mind. There’d been no hint that the other was in a foul mood the previous evening when they chatted via webphone. In fact the conversation had gotten to what Rage would no doubt have complained was “grossly sappy” levels. Right before telling them to say something sexy instead to satisfy a lonely fangirl’s cravings. That usually earned her a kumagorou beam from him and a complaint about her stealing his position as number one pervert in their ragtag family from Tatsuha. In a group gathering, this would usually earn a remark from Eiri that Tatsuha had lost the position when he’d settled down, and a cheerful offer from his lover to prove him wrong. (And that he was more than willing to go along with.) Then Mika and Noriko would smack around all parties involved because they were going to influence their children. He’d have thought both women would have realized a long time ago that said children were doomed due to their relatives. But despite what some tabloids claimed, he wasn’t a masochist and had no desire for a second thrashing from the two.

The memories made him smile despite his current predicament. He made his way to the kitchen, hoping for at least cold left overs. Said leftovers was a pot of rice. There was other foods in the fridge, and he was glad to see that. However, current evidence hinted that, on that day at least, Tatsuha hadn’t eaten anything but rice. He was going to lecture him again, just as soon as he patched things up. And maybe got a little of that pampering in. Okay, the latter was him being spoiled. Lecture first, because making sure Tatsuha took care of himself was more important than his own selfish whims. And even though he had a well-deserved reputation as a diva, Tatsuha was one of the exceptions.

He found the newspaper open on the table next to a half-finished plate of rice. He winced when he saw the picture. “Oh.”

“That’s not much of a defense.”

Ryuichi turned to find Tatsuha in the doorway, still dressed in his robes. The scent of sandalwood incense floated toward him, and he had to resist the urge to go throw his arms around the other. Because he had missed him, horribly so, and texts and e-mails and webphones still wasn’t the same as being truly together. “The charity arranged the tour-”

“A warning, Ryuichi. A warning would have been nice before I saw pictures of you rubbing elbows with the bastards who would love to see me shut down.”

Swearing and still wearing his robes. Pissed off might have been an understatement considering how careful Tatsuha was about the temple’s reputation and his behavior when representing it. “I knew you’d be upset-”

“That’s an understatement.” Tatsuha’s voice was cold.

“Which is why I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone.”

“You could have refused to go there.”

“The reporters following us would have latched onto that in an instant. They could have claimed libel or any number of-” Ryuichi began.

“And a media scandal meant more than doing the right thing? You cause media scandals all the time, Ryuichi. You practically thrive on them. You know what they’re like there-”

“I know what he is like.” He stressed the pronoun. “I know some of the others are the same way. But it’s a big temple, Tatsuha. You can’t judge everyone there by-”

“Are you defending them? If anyone there had an ounce of respectability they wouldn’t let them get away with it!” Tatsuha snapped out.

“Even if it is to get attention, their assistance with the charity group-”

“Is to make them look good! And, fuck, Ryuichi, they should give some back considering all they do is exploit everyone else! If I had half as big a temple as theirs’ I could do twice what they do with it-”

“But you don’t. You don’t and you won’t try. You won’t build this place up. You don’t even take on anyone to help you with it.” Ryuichi snapped back.

“Don’t fucking tell me how to run my own temple!”

“Don’t fucking yell at me for doing my job!”

Tears. Oh, heck. Ryuichi snapped his mouth shut the moment he saw the tears in those dark eyes. Oh, hell, Eiri and Mika were going to kick his ass. And he wasn’t even going to fight back.

Tatsuha snatched the newspaper out of his hand. “Screw you.” His words were calm despite the tears running down his cheeks. When he strode from the room, the slamming of a shoji door accompanied it only a moment later.

Ryuichi cursed himself in every language he knew how - about fifteen, since swear words were so easy to pick up - and wondered if the couch had gotten any more comfortable.

“I hate you.”

“You saw the newspaper article I take it?” Tohma sounded far to calm for his liking. He was probably curled up in a nice comfy bed with Mika by his side. Ryuichi told himself he wasn’t jealous. His lying skills were apparently getting rusty.

“Tatsuha saw the newspaper article.”

“How’s the couch?”

“I really, really hate you.”

“You got a photoshoot, I got a promise. You knew I’d collect.”

“You knew where the charity tour stopped, didn’t you?”

“If our positions were reversed…well, that’s how you got your photoshoot, remember?”

“I must be losing my touch. I used to be able to avoid your collection attempts. This is so uncomfortable. I should get a hotel room.”

“But you won’t. Because you know you deserve it.”

Ryuichi turned to face the couch cushions, pressing the cellphone to the opposite ear. “I deserve alot of things for all the shit I’ve done. And I’ve never worried about the punishments I deserve.”

“And it will make it harder to gain his forgiveness.”

“…did you really sleep on the couch that night?”

“I got a few things chucked in the general direction of my head as well.”

“I am glad throwing furniture around seems to be an Eiri and Mika thing and not an Uesugi thing.”

“So spoiled.”

“You and Shuichi just have lousy taste. I got the best of the three.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for you. Maybe you got dropped on your head as a baby.”

Only Tohma could say something like that while smiling. Of course, he was probably one of the only people who would laugh at it. “Of course, he got the best too. I’m way better than you or Shuichi.”

“The next time I’m over there I’m breaking one of the couch springs. Right in the middle. So it’ll poke you in the back every time you have to sleep there.”

“And here I thought you’d done that already, from the feel of things…” For a moment there was silence. Then Ryuichi sighed and turned on his back. “I made him cry.”

“Apologize.” Was the simple advice - serious in tone. An offer from experience.

“Tomorrow then.”

“Have a good night.”

“I really, really, really hate you.”

He awoke to a cold breakfast on the table beside him. And a cup of hot green tea. Sunlight was spilling in the window and he must have missed morning prayers. It explained both the cold breakfast and hot tea. “So…what did I do to be forgiven?” He asked aloud.

There was a sigh, and then Tatsuha was there, in his robes again. Temple was open, after all. He sat down on the couch. “Page Four.”

“Ah.”

“You could…y'know…tell me this stuff before-”

“You go off on me?”

“…you deserved it.”

“I suppose I did.”

“How did you know about the embezzling?”

“I just happened to mention to one of the reporters that rumor said certain people at the temple were shady. I couldn’t have anticipated the outcome.” He kept his expression neutral. He picked up Kumagorou from the couch. “Hai!” The bunny nodded. “It was all a coincidence. Hai! Hai!”

“Coincidence my ass.” Tatsuha’s look was more amused then upset, though he could tell from the rings under his eyes he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. They were puffy too, lingering evidence of his crying.

“I’d like alot of coincidences involving your ass, but in this particular case let’s leave it out of the conversation.” He winked at the younger man, and had to grin at the dusting of pink that colored his cheeks momentarily. Despite being lewd himself, Tatsuha did get embarrassed easily when you caught him off guard. Ryuichi enjoyed being in on that little secret quite a bit.

“Now you’re being an ass.”

“If you keep talking about asses, I’m going to think your implying something.”

“Ryuichi…” The tone was both amused and resigned. It meant he was joking too much and needed to be serious. He set Kumagorou to one side.

“This isn’t my world, it’s yours. I’m sorry for what I said. It was out of line.”

“I’m sorry too. I know it’s your job. And I don’t normally have any problems with any of it. This was just too close to home.”

“I should have talked to you about it the moment I found out.”

“I probably still would have been upset.” The other admitted.

“Still not the same as picking up a newspaper and seeing your lover being friendly with the enemy.”

“You might have been spared the couch.”

Ryuichi chuckled, taking a sip of the tea. “It’s not any more comfortable. We should consider a new one.”

“I don’t know what you mean, it works perfectly.”

“To drive off potential couch crashers?”

“Exactly.” Tatsuha’s grin was infectious.

“I’d prefer the bed still.”

“You look like you could use a bath. Smell like it too.”

“It’s so nice to come home and have your lover tell you you stink. Makes the whole coming home process very genuine.”

Laughing, Tatsuha leaned in to nuzzle their noses together. “I’ll draw your bath for you.”

“Will you stay to wash my back?”

“I’ll consider it.”

Ryuichi leaned in to capture his mouth with his own. It was good to be home.

Fini

So I have been writing a fic titled The Price for Loving You over at the Pit of Voles for about ten years. Yah, I know, no comment. Anyhow, this ties into that fic and is meant to be a years later type of thing.

But generally, what was supposed to have happened is Ryuichi spent time with groups connected to a charity as a favor for Tohma. One group was another temple - one Tatsuha is at odds with. Essentially several of the monks are supposed to only be interested in the money they can get out of their job and not truly helping anyone.

The conversation with Tohma is connected to another fic of mine - Photographic Memories where Ryuichi makes a deal with Tohma to get Tatsuha to his photoshoot. In return, he owes Tohma a favor - one that will earn him a night on the couch. Tohma came to collect. This is Ryuichi’s night on the couch and was my first actual full on attempt at writing how I think Ryuichi and Tatsuha would be in a relationship. (They kinda skirt each other in my other fics with them.) So pretty much domestic fluff.

[marauders70s]

Number 1,753 I guess. Can you do a drabble involving the marauders, centered around Remus the Mom Friend(tm)?

HELL YES I love Moomy! @suffering-trashcan (sorry everyone whose drabbles I forgot to tag 0.o)

Sixth Year, November 1977

“Not strong this,” James hiccuped loudly, “…stuff.”

“Not at all,” agreed Sirius, draining the last of the Firewhiskey. 

Peter was snoring on the tabletop in the Three Broomsticks. He was drawing a lot of stares.

“You-you’re lucky,” slurred Sirius, “That I t-turned seven. Seventeen. Seventeen I mean. You know? I turned seventeen first and now I’m old enough to…to…”

“Yeah,” agreed James, sloppily shoving his glasses up his nose with the flat of his hand. They were very smudgy and he was peering through them as if he wasn’t sure why things were so blurred. He kept touching the lenses to make sure they were still there, and leaving more fingerprints. 

“For Merlin’s sake, please keep your voices down,” moaned Remus. “Students aren’t supposed to be drinking.”

“Y-y-you were drinking,” giggled James. As usual, his voice was not anyone’s idea of an indoor voice, a quirk that was not unique to his current inebriation. James was, in the simplest of terms, loud.

“Twas not,” Sirius argued. He was bright red, but seemed to at least be stable. James was weaving in his chair like a top-heavy flower in a strong wind. “R-Remus he didn’t drink…didn’t drink…didn’t you know? Didn’t…he just went -” he gave a strangled choke.

“I did not,” Remus snapped, a little miffed. “I’ve been choking down much fouler stuff than this my whole life.”

“Really?” It was Lily, and the immediate reactions of the four created a loud cacophony of sound that drew every eye in the Three Broomsticks. 

Sirius yelped a war cry of triumph, something between “AAAIOOOO and HEYYYYYYOOO.” James shrieked and fell from his chair trying to sit on his hands. Peter woke up when James hit the legs of his chair with a gigantic snort and an indignant “HEY!” And Remus, who had truthfully only had enough to make him feel dizzy and quickly stopped, flushed a brilliant ivory that Lily of all people had approached the table. He might have even handled anyone better…except perhaps Professor McGonagall. 

“Really?” Lily sighed while she surveyed the table, Sirius not at all subtly tucking the square bottle into his jacket under one armpit. It slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor. He swooped it back up under his other armpit and pulled his leather jacket closed over his school sweater, his grin a glitter of white in a sea of red.

“Did you really expect different?” Remus said, trying to laugh a little. His ears were so painful from the blush he thought they would fall off. 

“From them?” Lily gestured at James and Sirius. James had crawled up to his chair only to discover someone was sitting in it. He and Sirius were now having a heated argument whose chair it was, while James tried to pull him out of it. “No. From you and Peter? Yes.”

“I’m not drunk,” Remus said quickly. “Somebody’s got to wrangle this lot.”

“You’re trying to get them outside?” Lily asked.

Remus nodded. He gestured her forward. “Are you going to-”

Lily drew back, affronted. “First of all you have been drinking! Remus Lupin, a prefect!”

Remus ducked his head guiltily, but Lily only laughed. 

“And come on Remus, we’re friends. I wouldn’t tell. I’m a prefect, not an asshole.”

Remus, who had grown up hearing Sirius swear since he was twelve years old, still blushed when Lily said it, and laughed awkwardly. “Thanks.”

“I can’t help you get them back to school,” Lily said. “Just outside. I have to go meet Mary and Alice at Scrivenshaft’s to pick out our planners for January.”

“Of course,” Remus agreed at once. “Just outside. Away from people,” he stressed.

“Come on, Peter,” Lily said kindly, tugging Peter’s arm. He had fallen into a stupor, eyes glazed over. He tried to stand, staggered back into the chair, knocked the chair over, and was only saved a rough tumble by Lily’s hand on his arm. She quickly took him out first.

“Where’s Wormy going?” James demanded loudly.

Remus sighed, but tried to fix a smile to his face. “We’re having a snowball fight outside,” he said cheerfully. “Want to come?”

“RACE YOU!” bellowed James, and bolted from his chair. He weaved a very circuitous and uneven route to the door but managed it all on his own.

“Padfoot?” Remus asked in a low voice.

Sirius only grinned. “Don’t be stupid,” he said briskly, and stood quite steadily. “You think this is going to stop me? You should have seen what Mum put in Reggie’s and my milk bottles to get us to sleep.”

He left Remus gaping after him, his arm awkwardly bulky over the square bottle. Remus quickly recovered himself and followed. Outside, he could see James sprinting after Lily calling, “WAIT! EVANS! WAIT FOR ME!” It was normal enough behavior for James, though Remus knew he’d be mortified when he sobered up.

Remus and Sirius walked forward. Sirius only staggered the slightest bit over the icy and uneven terrain, but was mostly steady. He had a strange, fixed grin to his face that made Remus uneasy, but he didn’t comment on it. Lily was waiting with Peter, who was shivering and looking distinctly miserable, his round face pale and sweating. James had dived headfirst into a snowdrift and was making snowballs as fast as his bare hands could make them. Remus reflected it was lucky his mum had spelled his gloves to be unloseable as James was so absentminded. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Lily asked, watching James with a mixture of disgust and helpless amusement. 

Remus smiled, more to himself than for her. Sometimes Lily couldn’t quite hide how she was starting to feel about James, even if James was oblivious to it.

“Evans, hey, Evans,” he kept saying. “Come play. You want to play? We can be on the same team? Or not, whatever you want. But I’m really good. Like really good. Good. Good at snowballs. You know? Quidditch. Quidditch snow. Like, I’m amazing.”

“Yeah,” Remus coughed into a fist to hide his amusement. “We’ll be okay.”

“Right then,” said Lily, backing away and laughing in spite of herself at James’ weak armed throw in her direction. It missed by a good five feet. “Good luck with this…and see you for rounds later?”

“Course.”

“You will give me the drunk Potter blow by blow?”

Remus smiled to himself again. “Every embarrassing detail,” he promised.

As Lily walked back toward the main avenue in the village, James still demanding she come back and play, Remus turned first to Peter. 

“Can you transform?”

“Huh?” Peter was in a daze, his blue eyes streaming in the cold. His nose was red, lips swollen from the alcohol. 

“Transform into Wormtail?”

“Yeah. Yeah I can do it.” He stood there, staring bewilderedly at Remus.

Remus sighed, but put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter. Pete.”

Peter looked at him again. “Huh?”

“Transform into the rat.”

“Right now?”

“Yes,” repeated Remus patiently. “Right now.”

There was a long moment when nothing happened, then Peter was shrinking as Remus had seen him do dozens of times before. Remus stepped in front of him, shielding him from view though they were around the bend on the edge of town. In a moment, the rat was in front of him, shivering uncontrollably. Remus picked him up and put him in his inner robe pocked by his right hip. By the way the rat went limp next to his body heat, it was evident Peter had fallen asleep. 

“You good?” he asked Sirius. Sirius had climbed over James’ snowbank and was leaning against the fence. 

“Yeah. Course I am,” he said, but his face looked green. Without warning he turned over the fence and vomited a shockingly bright orange sludge into the snow, where it hissed on impact.

“Great,” said Remus. “Perfect. Well, better in the snow than anywhere else.”

“I’m fine,” Sirius repeated weakly. He was clutching his stomach. 

“I need you to stick with me,” Remus said, bending to the snow where James was soaking wet and shivering, finally realizing there would be no snowball fight. He crushed his waiting pile of snowballs childishly with an angry swipe of his fist. 

“Can you get up?” he asked James.

James bounded up so fast he cracked into Remus, who straightened up, wincing as James bellowed, writhing on his back in the snow in a weird mimicry of a snow angel. Watching them, Sirius vomited again. 

“Come here!” demanded Remus, pulling James’ arm over his own, taller shoulder. “We’re going home.”

“Don’t want to,” said James bitterly. His glasses were hanging off one ear. Remus plucked them from his face and put them in his own pocket.

“I can’t see!” James yelled. “I’ve gone blind!”

Remus closed his eyes, praying to any old god they’d been talking about in History of Magic that he wouldn’t be cracking James’ skull again in the next hour.

“Sirius, come on. We’re going now.”

Miserable now, Sirius followed a little ways behind as Remus and James started trudging their way up to the castle. It was a good thing that Remus was carrying the bag, which had James’ invisibility cloak inside, because after a miserable twenty minutes of Sirius groaning that he would die, and James insisting he was fine and he wanted to walk on his own (only to promptly slip and fall), they stopped a little ways away. 

“Silencio,” Remus tapped James’ mouth and James opened it to bellow belligerently once again, but nothing came out. Remus quickly took out James’ invisibility cloak, wrapped him in it, and fastened the ends in place with a mild sticking charm. He left the very smallest wisp of James’ flyaway black hair out of the cloak; impossible to see if you weren’t looking for it. With another spell, locomotor mortis, he levitated the invisible, thrashing, silent James. 

“Come on,” he said to Sirius, who was no longer red but ashen grey. “We’ve got to get upstairs. Taking the arm James had been hanging on the whole way, he slung it under Sirius’ shoulder as they reentered the castle, the young caretaker Argus Filch parked in a chair by the entrance, eyeing students suspiciously. 

“What’s wrong with him, then?” Filch asked Remus. 

“Bad meat pasty,” he replied hastily, hauling Sirius up the grand staircase. He had a funny feeling Filch would try to follow them, and he was sure to smell Sirius within ten feet of him. The odor of whiskey was unmistakable. 

It was a good thing they had spent so much time on their marvelous map, because it helped Remus navigate to the most isolated, little used corridors, even though the moving staircases made Sirius retch. On the first occasion, Remus pulled Sirius’ wand out of his jacket pocket and vanished the pool of sick, using two wands in two hands. He didn’t bother giving it back, as he had to repeat the vanishing charm several more times until they made it to the Seventh Floor. The common room, thankfully, was mostly empty, though James accidentally collided with the chandelier because Remus wasn’t paying attention, looking casually at the faces of the younger students staring openly at them.

Sirius bolted up the stairs to the first bathroom on the boys side of the dormitory. Remus passed him on the first turn of the staircase, still levitating James. Up, up, and up they went to the highest level to their attic dormitory. Up another narrow, ladderlike staircase, and Remus finally settled James on the floor, or so he guessed by the piece of his hair. He undid the sticking charm and pulled the invisibility cloak off of him. James was brick red in the face and still swearing silently. 

“Are you going to yell? If you are, I’ll just leave it on.”

James closed his mouth, but finally shook his head.

“All right then.” Remus took the silencing charm off of him. James sat up on the floor, looking around.

“The floor’s gone all…all weird,” he said, right before his eyes rolled up in his head, and he passed out from his thrashing exertions. 

Sighing, Remus went over and pulled off James’ coat and robes, sending them to hang up with a silent spell. He was quite good at the household ones, but was still learning the others. Taking off James’ shoes and belt by hand, he used magic to get James into his bed and under the covers. He carefully took his glasses out of an inner pocket and placed them on James’ nightstand Remus pulled the hangings shut and put the rat Wormtail his own bed. Wormtail was fast asleep, so Remus shook him until Wormtail squeaked indignantly. 

“Change back,” Remus commanded. 

Wormtail ignored him, trying to turn back in a circle, finding warmth to go back to sleep.

Remus picked the rat up. “Change back.”

A few more indignant squeaks and thrashes until it occurred to Peter that it might just be easier to do as Remus suggested. Remus quickly let go when the half-morphed Peter became too heavy to hold. He fell to the bed and landed heavily, human again. Peter managed to struggle out of his own shoes and clothes fairly well, and Remus only pulled the covers up to his chin and shut the hangings. 

He went in search of Sirius, and found him a few stairs short of their room, green and holding his stomach, his face pinched. He had managed to hold onto the firewhiskey bottle up until now, and Remus helped him up with an arm under his, taking the bottle from him gently. He got Sirius into bed and managed to find a few spare potions in his own nightstand for the days leading up to the full moon. He gave Sirius a stomach settler made primarily of dandelions, and spiked it with a dash of a sleeping draft. It did the trick. Sirius blinked hazily, laid his head back on his pillow, and was asleep before Remus finished drawing the curtains.

Peter began to snore again, and sighing, Remus left the dormitory to go back down to the commons. To his surprise, the chairs by the fire were empty. He moved to one gratefully; he was more chilled than he had thought, and smiled when Lily peered around the edge of the armchair. 

“You did all right,” she said with a grin. 

“Thanks,” Remus said, flopping into the chair with a groan and closing his eyes in the warmth of the flames. He was more tired than he had realized. There were several long moments while they sat quietly, listening to the bustle of the Commons behind them. Remus realized he was drifting farther and farther from wakefulness, but it didn’t worry him. He just listened idly as the world around him slowly faded, but didn’t miss the last thing Lily said.

“You’ll make a great dad.”

[naturaldaisaster]

talk me about jyn and cassian and how they deal with their nightmares pre-canon and also post-scarif please

gonna pair this with a requests i also got for things you said in your sleep and things you said when i was crying xx

just a lil glimpse at a moment

Cassian’s nightmares have never directly involved him.

He is a part of them, of course. Failing, usually. Letting a word slip in deep cover that he should not know, leading an enemy back to base and watching helplessly as it is destroyed, losing a folder of vital information that it was up to him alone to recover.

Nightmares, for Cassian, are as impersonal as his life. He is a piece in a larger puzzle, a means to an end – everything he does ties directly back to the war and the cause and a web of other people counting on his success.

There is no place in the delicate machine he has been tuned into for reckless emotion. For himself. The repercussions of ways he can fail are very real possibilities, things he has to consider – and more often than not, the nightmares inspire him to be better.

(He thinks, later, inspire is perhaps the wrong word.

Fear, however, is too fraught in emotional significance for the man he was.)

Jyn lives in a nightmare until she is 17 years old, when she makes the decision that she no longer will fear. She has, she thinks, experienced it all. Felt the most terrible the universe has to offer her and made it through.

The worst that can happen, she reasons, the only thing which has not happened - is her death. And she has never been frightened of death.

So she shoves her traitorous father, the hateful Saw, the corpses of her lost friends, the torn memories of her mother – deep into the cave where she first left herself, the baby version of herself who had to be stronger, slamming the door down hard over it all.

Fear, like pain, like attachment, like dependence – has no place in her life.

The problem is Cassian, and that he comes back, and that he is home, and that when she stumbles with him out of the elevator onto the beach, when she feels the sticky air cling to her bloody skin, when she sees a chillingly familiar bright light shining bright on the horizon – she realizes that the tiniest crack she has opened the cave, the smallest bit of attachment she has allowed herself to him - has broken the door that separates Jyn and the Jyn she can not afford to be.

She is not afraid of her death.

She is terrified of taking him with her.

The first night she hears his muffled yells through the thin wall that separates their cots, she wakes in a panic. It is the first night they have delved off of pain killers, the first natural sleep either of them has gotten since they were dragged back to base rugged and bloody and barely alive.

She can hear the terror laced into his calls, even with a wall between them - and it sends a terrible, unfamiliar fear chilling up her spine. Even though she has been lying sleepless staring into the darkness for so long that she thinks she has lost perception of time, even though she has only just managed to sink into a restless sleep – she swings her aching legs to the ground, ignoring the throbbing pain that wakes up with her, tearing at her joints.

Her first groggy thought, as she stumbles into his unit, is that there is no one there - no threat, nothing attacking him.

The second is that he is asleep.

She has overestimated her own capabilities – and her third thought is that she is going to fall. She makes it to his bedside before her knee gives out and she hits hard onto the solid floor, white-hot pain sending a jolt of nausea up her throat.

It is not the first time she has seen a soldier thrashing in their sleep. She is familiar enough with the conditions, the horror of the realities of war, to know that shaking him awake will only worsen the grasp his unconscious has on him.

But her heart is stuttering against her chest, and she feels hopeless watching him kick and writhe, tangled beneath his sheets. She is not the type to be sentimental, or comforting, or soft – but she cannot bring herself to leave him, not with how her heart aches watching his pain.

Then it is not a formless moan passing his lips, but her name – muffled but unmistakable, soft and horrified – and she does not make the conscious decision, as her hand jerks automatically into his sheets, searching for his hand. She tangles her fingers through his, squeezing tight, noting the sweat beading on his furrowed brow with wide, fearful eyes.

And this helplessness, she thinks, is her new nightmare.

One moment he is on Scarif, losing grip on Jyn’s hand - terrified, not of failing the mission, not of betraying the alliance – but of the uncontrollable force tearing the world apart beneath him. Of losing her.

Her fingers slip and suddenly he is surrounded in heavy darkness and for a moment, he thinks the crack have swallowed him and he is dead. Then he hears her voice, a barely there murmur tugging at the silence.

“It’s alright,” she breathes, “we’re alright.”

Her hand is still in his, fingers tangled tight, slick with his sweat.

It takes a moment for him to ground himself back in reality, to pull the scattered bits of him back together.

Her words are weighty and muffled in spite of their closeness, and he blinks heavy lids, seeks her out through the darkness.

Tears glint on her cheeks and she hurries to wipe them away with her free hand, but new ones quickly replace the old.

His heart is still pounding painful and quick against his chest, blood pulsing hard and fast past his ears – and he feels himself squeeze her hand tighter, pulling it close to his heart.

“I.. should go,” she mutters in the same heavy timbre as before, words followed with a sniffle – but her eyes remain fixed on his, and she makes no move to leave his side.

He is doing his best to ignore her tears, but he cannot help but untangle his hand from the sheets and thumb a wet mark from her cheek.

He does not want to let go of her hand, and he is not sure if it is for himself or for her when he hoarsely breathes: “Stay,” against her scabbed knuckles.

(She is not sure if it is for him or for her when she does.)