#wait no there might have been a phase where he was like 'it doesn't count if your body is female' but i think spike shut that down p fast

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

Wait is that where he got the whole bein closeted thing too cause that definitely wasn't canon related

[velvetchrry]

grim reaper!simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

He wasn’t quite sure why but he didn’t want to take your soul.

Fragile little thing, still clinging to life. Sickly. Withering. But you had a fire inside of you, he could feel it. Burning brightly enough that it might even char him.

He wondered the last time your bare feet had touched the grass. The last time you filled your lungs with summer air. The last time you left this tiny little prison keeping your mortal body alive with tubes and drains.

You smile at him. It sends a chill down his spine — something he hadn’t felt since the before. Before he was this. Before he was death. When he was still a man. He can barely remember his old name anymore. Why are you smiling at him?

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Your voice was a melody. Expecting him? You couldn’t be.

“Do I have a few minutes or is it time now?”

He’s taken thousands of souls. More than he can count. Ferried them to the afterlife. Nothing but a blip on his radar, long forgotten. The ones that were still conscious enough to see him begged to live. Begged to be spared. But never this. Never waiting for him.

“Would you like a few minutes?” The words coming out of his mouth surprise even him. He hasn’t heard the sound of his voice in a long while. Hasn’t had the need to speak. It startles even him — a distortion of his human voice.

“I would… I would like to say goodbye to my mom.” He wants to wipe away the tear trickling down your face. He wants to tell you it’s going to be okay.

He nods and hovers to the corner of the room. You don’t seem to mind that he’s waiting there while you call in your mother. She doesn't accept what you have to tell her. It’s not your time, how could it be? You’re young, you have so much life left to live. You’re going to live, she won’t hear anymore of it otherwise. You say okay, another tear falls. You ask her to go get you something to eat.

When she leaves, you look back over to him. A shaky breath releases from your chest. You quickly wipe the backs of your delicate fingertips on your waterline.

“I’m ready.”

But he’s not. Oh no. He’s not.

He doesn’t want to take your soul. Doesn’t want it to incinerate that last little piece of him that’s still human. The piece that wriggles its way up to the surface every so often. He knows if he helps your soul to the afterlife, he’ll never remember his name again. Never remember the touch of a woman’s skin, the feeling of a hot breath against him. Never feel the ache in his chest where his heart used to be. The phantom pain that reminds him who he was. Simon.

He’s at your bedside before you can even blink. You’re not phased, not one bit. He sits, and reaches to take your tiny hand in his. You furrow your brow gently but give it to him.

He sees a flash of the man he was again. The black robe slips down his arm. A sliver of skin reveals his tattoos back at him, tattoos he hasn’t thought about in decades. You study him in silence while he does the same.

Why does your soul sing to him? Why does it remind him of the things he’s forgotten? Why you? Why not the other thousands upon thousands of souls?

“Will it hurt?” your tiny voice squeaks out.

They don’t deserve you — the gods that rule the afterlife. They’ll waste you, they won’t cherish you like he would. Like he could. You deserve so much more, delicate flower that you are.

“No, darling girl, it is as easy as dreaming.”

They have millions of souls. Billions. Surely they won’t miss yours. He can steal one soul for his own. It’s just one. One soul. The most precious soul he’s come across.

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath, waiting for the end to reach you. Death’s sure kiss.

He leans in slow, like he’s approaching a scared animal. Your eyes don't open. No — you trust him.

His lips meet your pillowy soft ones. He almost forgets how to do it, but your lips remind him. They help him. You kiss him.

He feels your soul like a lump in his throat. His large hand — the one not holding your wrist — wraps around your neck. It burns him, this kiss. He knew it would. Sizzles the very bones in his body.

An electrifying feeling takes hold of the both of you. Your skin is covered in goose flesh (his would be too, if it still could be). Your nipples harden, a wetness trails down your panties. You don’t break from him or his kiss. He wonders if it burns you a little too.

When the lump in his throat settles he finally feels it. He’s whole. For the first time in… maybe ever. He’s done it. He’s really done it. He breaks away from you.

Color has returned to your cheeks, the blood rushing beneath your skin. Already you look better than you did before he entered the room.

You don't understand it, he knows you don’t. Someday he’ll explain. Someday. But not yet.

The gods of the afterlife will never find you, and if they do, they’ll never have you. You’re his now. He’s done it.

He’s melded your souls together.

[erosjournal]

Hello! How are you?

I've a request for Percy Jackson, I imagine something where the reader and Percy have been dating for a while, but the reader noticed Percy's closeness to Annabeth and the reader starts to get jealous and insecure, and she also starts to compare herself to Annabeth, and the reader is super upset and downcast, but she doesn't know how to communicate, so when Percy confronts the reader, the reader freezes and can't talk about her feelings

I've done this request for someone else before, so I'll understand if you don't want to do this request, but I love your writing and would love to see what you could write with this request

☆ i know it's crazy , but what if it's right ?

~ percy jackson x gender neutral reader

~ synopsis : you and percy are dating , happily . well , thats if you ignore the fact he spends more time with annabeth than his own partner !

~ tw(s): mental health struggles , physical comparisons

You were waiting in your cabin, fidgeting with Percy's jacket. Percy had promised to meet up with you five minutes ago, to come get you to take you on a beach walk. Playing with the jacket, you frowned. It was now 6 minutes past, the tear in the sleeve becoming bigger. See, Percy hadn't even noticed you'd taken his favorite jacket. The door was thrust opened and you jumped.

"Gods, I'm so sorry I'm late!" Percy cried, breathing heavily. He doubled over, groaning. You walked over to him, ruffling his hair.

"Don't worry, Perce," You tried, attempting to be lighthearted. He looked up, his sea green eyes making your stomach churn. You still had those honeymoon phase moments, when you'd look into those beautiful eyes.

"I'm sorry, I got caught up with--" You braced yourself.

"Annabeth." You felt nauseous. Recently, Percy had been spending a lot of time with her. You understood they were close friends, and had a thing in the past, but Percy always denied any feelings of romance towards her. But in moments like these, you couldn't help but wonder...

"Oh. Annabeth?" You muttered shakily. Percy nodded. He had redoubled over, and couldn't see your pained expression.

"Yeah, she wanted my opinion on a new structure she was designing for Olympus," He stood up, laughing nervously. He scratched his neck.

"...Couldn't she ask someone else?" You asked. He shrugged.

"I mean, I guess," He didn't add on anymore, causing your worries to worsen. "Anyways, I'm here now. Let's go!" You nodded, him grabbing your hand. Yes, you were glad he was here and you could go on your walk now, but was it all that worth it?

Today was the third day in a row you'd ignored Percy. The first day, he'd asked to take you to go out with him to pick strawberries. Where Annabeth was. You gently declined, saying you had been given a ton of chores that day. The second he came over to your cabin, asking to spend time. You accepted, but he just went to sit on your bed, talking about his favorite architectural designs. Something about Annabeth, and you immediately started ignoring him.

See, it wasn't that you didn't like Annabeth. No, you couldn't! She was, after all, a great person and fun to be around. You just couldn't handle the fact Percy was constantly with her instead of you. That might sound like jealously, but this had happened too many times to count.

So when Percy rapped his knuckles on your cabin door, you shut it back in his face. You heard a gasp, much more realistic than dramatic, and another knock.

"What was that for?" You heard him yell. You leaned against the door, blinking back tears.

"Leave me alone! Go find Annabeth or something!" You argued, trying not to break down behind the door. He froze, hesitating. Then you heard footsteps, leaving your cabin in the direction of the Athena cabin. Of course he knew where she was.

You walked into the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirrors. You wished you looked like Annabeth. You wish you were Annabeth. The perfect way her curls wound, the specific shade of blonde that shined in the sun, the way she could talk about something she loved so easily. The way she captured Percy's thoughts, his mind, his focus. That's what you wanted the most.

It'd been over a week at this point, and Percy was fed up. You were at the lake, ankle deep in the cold water. He tapped your shoulder, sitting next to you. You froze.

"Love," He started, biting his lip. "What's wrong?" You shook you head, looking away.

"Nothing. I'm fine... just busy." Percy shook his head, trying to catch your gaze.

"No, it's not.... Are you... planning on breaking up with me?" He said, his voice cracking with pain. Shit. You turned to look at him, tears pooling in his eyes. You opened your mouth, your body begging you to say no. But your voice died in your throat. He cleared his throat.

"Please, just talk to me."

"I can't, Percy."

"Is it because of Annabeth?" You hesitated, Percy sighing. "I promise, we're just friends." He assured, frowning at your hesitation. You shook your head.

"Friends don't act like..." You couldn't even name it. "You guys." Percy let out another sigh. A sound you were starting to hate.

"But we are! I promise! Yeah, sure, we've had a past together, but I don't even see her that way! I see you that way." You just shake your head. More words threaten to spill, but they just won't come out. He bites his lip. "I should leave," He starts getting up.

"Percy,"

"No, it's fine. We should, um, take a breather. Talk tomorrow," He said, blinking as tears fell from his eyes. You nodded, frowning. Why couldn't you just talk now? Why couldn't the words come out?

"Okay."

~ an : aaah tysm for reading !! i hope u liked it , i wasn't able to fit in everything but i hope that was ok . i also decided to do a gn reader bc i didn't think it needed specifically to be fem , i hope that was fine too . we love our bi king guys/hj . anyways , yeah , maybe i'll write a part 2 if people want it . ty !! ty for requesting !! (also the title is from talk too much - renee rapp)

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Two Heroes, No Capes

Summary: Y/N is in trouble, and she knows just who to call for help.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: TW descriptions of a physical assault, mugging, violence implied, injuries, fear and shock, some discussion regarding sexual assault (no sexual assault takes place, or is described, but I want to be extra careful of people's triggers.)

Pairings: No romantic pairing. Jensen Ackles x teen!reader, Jared Padalecki x teen!reader

Word Count: 1,686

A/N: I got a request from the dear @kayyay1219 :

Ok so I’ve been in a J2xteen!reader phases for a while and I can’t help but want another one. So, I was thinking that the reader was out in the city by herself and she gets assaulted by a group of guys and she calls Jared and Jensen for help. So they come to her rescue and they see how bad her injuries are and they take her home and help her clean up.

So, this was what I came up with. I'm so sorry this took SO long to get to you hon! I hope you think it was worth the wait. ❤️

A/N 2: As always, this story is about a Jensen and Jared from a different part of the multiverse and doesn't reflect anything to do with their real life. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

The beautiful dividers below and at the bottom were created by @saradika

The fear was still pumping in her veins, the relentless throb making the newly formed bruises hurt a little more. Y/N raised her hand, and brushed her fingertips across the gash above her eyebrow. When she pulled her hand away and saw the blood dripping from her fingers, her panic increased.

A rational, calming voice floated into her wildly careening mind, speaking softly, deep and soothing.

It's okay, princess, head wounds bleed a lot, it's probably not as bad as it seems. 

She nodded absently to the voice and tried to take an inventory of what was hurting. Her head was pounding, a result of being punched in the face twice, no doubt, but she’d also smacked the back of it on the concrete when they'd pushed her backwards.

Probably a concussion, the voice told her. 

Her ankle was badly sprained, she knew, from when she'd tried to sprint away from them and lost her footing in one of the cracks criss-crossing the alley. Her body felt like one big bruise from where their fists had pummeled her as she struggled against them. She’d struggled, but they won - holding her down and taking her purse, her jewelry, and her new, expensive leather jacket. She breathed deeply and then grimaced in pain; she also thought she might have a broken rib.

Okay, princess, the voice said quietly, reassuringly, time to call for help.

Suddenly it was obvious to Y/N that the calm, caring voice in her head belonged to Jensen. Of course. She'd call the boys. One of them would likely be free to come help her. 

She dialed Jensen's number, glad the thieves hadn't taken her phone from her jeans pocket. It was a shitty old thing, they probably hadn't thought it was worth the bother. 

It rang twice before he picked up. 

"Hey, darlin'. Need a ride into work? I know night shoots suck." He asked, a smile in his voice. 

"No…don’t need a ride." Her voice was a croak, as tears and fear clogged it. Jensen heard immediately.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

"I need…I had…something happened. These guys, they jumped me…I didn’t notice them. I need someone to…I need help."

She heard Jensen's voice move away from the phone slightly as he called out.

"Jared! It's Y/N, she's hurt, come on!"

He spoke into the receiver again. "Hey, baby, everything's okay now." She actually smiled slightly; his voice was exactly as it had sounded in her head 

"Just tell us where you are, and we'll be there right away."

“I’m in the…the alley beside my building.” She looked down at herself and the dirt and blood that stained the white tank top and jeans she wore. “I’m bleeding, and they…they wrecked my shirt, they tore it.”

Jensen’s voice became softer. “It’s okay, Y/N, we're in the car now. We’re less than 5 minutes away. Jared’s calling the police; do you need an ambulance?”

Y/N shook her head before realizing that Jensen couldn’t hear her head shake. “No.” She said.

Her teeth began to chatter and her whole body began to vibrate as shock took over. “I don’t want…don’t wanna go to the hospital. I’m…I just want to go home. I can’t…I don’t think I can walk on my own, my ankle is…and my head’s…I’m kinda dizzy.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t try to move on your own. We’re so close now.” As he said it, Y/N could hear the screech of tires a block away as Jensen’s pickup truck squealed around the corner of her street and headed towards her block. 

She heard doors open and slam shut, and seconds later, Jensen and Jared loomed large, solid and reassuring at the entrance to the alleyway, silhouetted against the streetlights behind them. She sighed first, and then started crying.

They were here; she was safe.

They ran towards where she sat in the middle of the alley, skidding to a stop beside her and crouching down. The light in the alley was terrible, but Jensen did a quick sweep with his hands to see if anything seemed broken, while Jared held her gently, allowing her tears to seep into his t-shirt.

Seemingly reassured that there were no broken bones, Jensen scooped her up and carried her to her apartment. When they finally had her settled on her couch, with the lights shining bright overhead, she watched the fury bloom on their faces as they got their first good look at her injuries. 

“Who did this to you?” Jared asked as he sat down beside her and took her hand in his.

Jensen answered, his voice chillingly cold.. “Dead men. Dead men did this.” 

Jared shook his head. “Jensen.” He said warningly. “That’s not helping.”

Jensen’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he took a deep breath. “You’re right. Killing them can wait.” 

He walked away and returned a half minute later with a first aid kit and a cold cloth. He ran the cloth incredibly gently across her forehead and cheeks, and the coolness felt wonderful against her throbbing skin. They both spoke softly and reassuringly, and Y/N just let their words flow into her, and calm her racing heart and shaking limbs.

As the boys took turns using the first aid kit to tend to the cuts and bruises across her face, Jared seemed like he was working up to saying something. Finally he looked at Jensen and shook his head. In their usual silent communication, Jared seemed to be passing the conversation to Jensen. Y/N was curious what they were trying to say, so she finally just grabbed Jared’s hand where he was cleaning the particularly deep gash above her eyebrow.

“What is it?” She asked, worried her injuries were more dangerous than she’d thought. Maybe she should go to the hospital.

Jensen answered; he was on his knees in front of where she sat on the couch, but he still had to duck his head a bit, to be able to look her in the eye as he spoke.

“Baby, you said…earlier…” 

He took a breath, and tried again. “Sweetheart, you know nothing you say will change how much we love you, and we’ll…we’ll do whatever you need us to do.”

Y/N nodded; she did know that. From the moment she’d shown up on the set of Supernatural, the boys had taken her underwing like protective fathers, and even welcomed her into their homes happily, treating her as simply another member of their busy, beautiful families. They were the protectors and champions she’d always wanted, but had never been lucky enough to have. She trusted them and their love for her completely.

“So…” Jensen continued. “You said that, when I was talking to you before, you said that there was a group of people. They were guys?”

Y/N nodded.

“And you said…” Jensen gritted his teeth again harshly. “You said that they’d…ruined your shirt…tore it? Baby.” He pulled her shirt together where it was torn at the neck. “Baby, did they…hurt you?” At first Y/N was confused. Of course they hurt her, she was bruised and bleeding. But then she heard the way he put emphasis on the word “hurt”, and realized what kind of hurt he meant. 

She turned red, and shook her head quickly, looking at her lap and ignoring the way her skull ached. “No. I mean…no, they didn’t…didn’t hurt anything that won’t heal. They tore my shirt when they were grabbing and ripping at my necklace.”

Her eyes went wide and then filled with tears as she turned to Jared. “The necklace you got me for Christmas. They took it.”

“Oh, darlin’, don’t worry. I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.” Jared said as he pulled her head gently against his shoulder. 

Just then a knock came to the door. For the next half hour Jared and Jensen sat beside her as she gave a tearful accounting of the whole incident to the police officers who crowded into her small living room. They acted like twin pillars of strength, helping her through, and lending her their bravery when she needed it. 

Finally, the police left, advising that she go to the hospital because of her head injuries. The boys agreed and then, when she said again that she really didn’t want to go, they insisted.

Finally she caved, and within the hour she was admitted for observation at St. Francis Memorial. The boys stayed with her all night. Y/N dozed from time to time, but the nurses came in regularly to wake her up and ask her simple questions like where she was born or how to spell her name, just to make sure her concussion wasn’t getting worse. 

Whenever Y/N was awake, the boys would regale her with stories from when they were kids, stories from set, stories about their own kids. She had to keep telling them not to make her laugh so much - she had bruised ribs. 

When the morning came, and the doctors were satisfied with her test results and with the results of the CT Scan they’d done the night before, she was discharged and the boys took her home. By the time she got there, she was exhausted beyond belief. So, they simply tucked her up in her bed, and then pulled up chairs to sit beside her.

“You guys don’t have to stay.” She said with a deep yawn. “You must be exhausted too.”

They both raised their feet onto the bed beside her and leaned back in the chairs. “Yeah,” Jensen answered, “but we’re good here.”

Y/N considered arguing against their overprotectiveness, but admitted to herself that she needed it right now. So, she simply smiled at them, and snuggled deeper into her soft pillows and cozy blanket.

“Love you guys.” She said sleepily. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it kiddo.” They said together. 

Love it when they talk at the same time, she thought to herself with a smile as she drifted off to a peaceful sleep, knowing she was completely safe, with her heroes so nearby.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

[princelylove]

Good evening my prince, I want to start off with my gratitude. You're one of the few that have an accurate description of the characters in dead dove/yandere situations. Thank you! I love seeing your post.

onto my take, cannibalism as a metaphor for love. There is something romantic about being eaten by another or unknowingly/forced to consume flesh. Your captor is selfish, the tiny scraps of affection they get from you is addicting. They want to swallow you whole, but if they devour that love, you will no longer live. A double-edged sword, I want both of our bodies to melt and mix together, but I will no longer be able to see your drowsy face in the early morning, coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. it's a constant battle, should I eat them and be done with it? or maybe take smalls nibbles throughout the months and wait until this phase goes away?... or maybe just prepare themselves so that you can feast on them instead.

"Crawl inside this body - find me where I am most ruined, love me there."- Rune Lazuli

My question is there any characters that you think can apply to this? does not have to be obvious (Narciso), Maybe they are better at keeping to themselves or just simply being too "normal' to behave this way?

Ohhh, cannibalism. How lovely. The desire to feast, and the desire to give yourself entirely to your partner, are not dissimilar. It's born from love, or at least appreciation.

You want it, but it's not happening. You offer yourself on a silver platter just to be ignored, even if you took the time to wrap yourself in ribbon and garnish that your love would appreciate.

They just don't want it. They're not hungry, they don't like the taste, they find the idea itself unappealing. It's torture. It counts as cruel and unusual punishment. Can you really blame them for finding small ways to make you eat them? Encouraging you to bite during sex, putting their hair into your food and saying "Oopsies!" when you obviously pull it out, scratching their arm over your food so their dead skin falls off and onto it and hopefully you never find out, they're pretty desperate, but not very creative with it.

Well, some are. Perhaps that's a different topic entirely.

It's safer to deal with someone that wants to be consumed. You won't have to look over your shoulder, you won't need to lock your door at night. You might be able to get away with gnawing on them every once in a while and calling it a day, maybe. They tend to be rather submissive, and love the attention that comes with being consumed.

It's different when you want to eat and want to be eaten, even if the desire comes from the same place. Someone who wants to eat you will never give you food that's been tampered with. If anything, they'd feed you the best. Well balanced meals that are actually good for you, with treats to keep you happy.

You have to feed pigs well or the taste just isn't right, but you knew that, didn't you?

Sometimes you think that Yoshikage cooks for you and encourages a certain lifestyle because he has ulterior motives. You're right. What's the point of killing you if your hand rots immediately, or if it isn't healthy enough to cut off in the first place?

He doesn't want yellow nails, he doesn't want dry skin, he doesn't want a project. Well. He's working on the project now, so he doesn't have to later.

Sometimes, when you look at him like you're grateful he's taking care of you, he gets the urge to not let the rest of your body go to waste. After all, when you kill an animal, you're supposed to use all of it. He read that somewhere, once. Isn't it such a shame to blast the rest of your corpse when he's always loved the taste of fresh meat?

That, and he may be starting to develop actual feelings for you. How rare! He fights the urge to take your life every second of the day. It's actually extremely frustrating!

You'd cease to exist, you'd be away from him... well, your hand would stay with him and your body would stay for however long his digestive system would like to hold you. He spends about an hour figuring out how to log your the calories.

It's just something he thinks about doing, and something he'll debate until he eventually snaps and allows for it to happen. Honestly, he'd probably snap randomly, so there's really nothing his darling could do to see it coming.

For him, it's less about possession, and more of an inclination. A natural instinct. He just can't help it, to Yoshikage, killing his darling is like clipping his nails or preparing meals for the rest of the week.

Narciso is very eager to possess his darling. He doesn't want to share, he doesn't want to acknowledge that his darling has their own thoughts and feelings on the matter. He's selfish. His goal is to love his darling, to see them do what they do best, but honestly, that's only if they're still his. He can't handle it any other way, and why would he? You're supposed to be his, he already loves you so so so so so so much, why can't you just accept him?

Sometimes he has it in his mind to kill you. Simply. Maybe it would be easier if you weren't alive, he'd just try to keep your corpse safe and sound for as long as he can. It's unfair. It's cruel. It's like whatever divine power is out there is laughing at him.

But you're so sweet. Not literally, you can be quite cruel to him, but you're just so... you make him so happy, just being there. Being yourself, breathing, ohhh, he loves seeing your chest rise and fall and thinking about how you have little organs in there, you're just so adorable. He'll often stay awake at night just to watch his darling breathe. He loves you. Very much.

So it agitates him whenever he sees his darling existing without him. What's the point if he doesn't have you all to himself? He'd merge with you if you could, it's unfair that he's all the way over here and you're all the way over there, why can't he break your skin and crawl inside?

He usually gets it out of his system by biting, and kissing, and inhaling directly against his darling's skin. Oh, and penetration. Penetration is pretty good too.

[boxwinebaddie]

hi uncle neen! in honor of freckle kyle becoming canon, does jers have freckles? <3

yES!!!!! YES HE DOES!!!!

YES!!!! HE!!! DOOOOOOES!!!!

hooooooly shit, oh My GOD, i am so sorry for being FERAL, you guys, but when i tell you that i have been WAITING FOR THIS QUESTION!

because jerseykyle does not just 'have freckles'.

obviously, everyone's kyle is different and i think a lot of people hc kyle having a nice light smattering over his nose, some light ones on his cheeks, neck and shoulders, which, again, i think is so lovely, i love when kyle has freckles, i think that is a perfect hc, tbh.

bUT JERSEYKYLE??????

JERSEYKYLE HAS FRECKLES.

for days and weeks and months and YEARS!!!!!!

anyways, follow me under the cut if you want my yelling.

okay, so, i wasn't sure how to explain this, but if we don't know, my embarrassing uncle nina lore is that in mid-highschool i used to tumblr rpg often which required the use of faceclaims or irl actors and models so i actually have...a surprising depth and wealth of knowledge when it comes specifically to models/supermodels so...

this is cintia dicker. X / X / X

( yes she is beautiful )

JERSEYKYLE HAS CINTIA DICKER FRECKLES.

like aaaaaalll OVER his damn face. like jersey be dominating boys in the bedroom, but those freckles be DOMINATING HIS FACE, BABY! like light ones, dark ones, idk, but they are fucking everywhere, all over his face, his neck, his arms, his legs, his chest,

EVERYWHERE.

which...Whew. he is sooooo pretty. it is seriously striking like he looks like pale pink sky with a blizzard of amber sparkles on his face. it's so wonderful, like jersey kyle please model for VOGUE. he is that bitch, he is freckly as damn hell, there are HUNDREDS, possibly thousands.

i might be exaggerating...

BUT I NEED YOU TO KNOW HES FRECKLY AS FUCK.

which...he was very embarrassed about for a long time. to this day, it is a large point of insecurity for him bc he feels really weird about them and considered using foundation to cover them up because of how strange and messy he thinks they make his face look because of the way society used to treat them, like they made his face look dirty or imperfect or ugly and AAAAAA OKAY!

so throwback ( as in i want to throw that man off a cliff and run over him several times w/ the barbie jeep i don't know how to drive ) when rm cartman said jers looked like he was 'speckled with shit'. :(((

it made kyle morbidly depressed/insecure to the point where he wanted to rip the skin off his face, but then stan told him that his mom said 'freckles are places where you've been kissed by the sun' and that ky must be 'the sun's favorite' bc he's been kissed so many times and he's trying to catch up…

WHEN I TELL U HE SWOOONED.

ravenstanley marsh, ceo of simping for freckly boys.

speaking of, so one time, i think they were watching a movie and stan was, uh, not watching the movie, he was literally watching jerseykyle. and kyle was like "what are you doing, dummy? is there something on my face?" and ironically stan shook his head and said "yeah, but they're fine where they are..." then trailed off in thought, still intently staring at kyle with Extreme Laser Focus.

and normally, kyle is used to people staring at him, y'know, bc he's fine as hell and really tall, that doesn't really phase him, but ravenstan staring at him makes him SUPER nervous, awkward and flustered, so he's like -anxious laugh- "seriously, dude, what are you do—“ and stan's like "shh" ( in a not condescending, loving way )

"i'm trying to count."

jerseykyle furrows his lovely auburn brow, trying to figure out what he's talking about, realizes what's going on, but still literally in shock, laughs again, because he thinks stan must be joking and goes "oh my gahd, are tryna count my freckles? stan's literally imposs--" and stan shushes again him in a gentle manner and is like "shh, i need to focus. quit distracting me, you're gonna make me lose my place."

literally on his face, counting kyle's, i shit you not, probably over 100 freckles, which i think is soooo fucking CUTE of him because he's literally swimming against the deadly current of his adhd, forcing everything in his constantly fidgeting body to focus so that he can keep count. it's a truly beautiful thing watching r.s.' brain whir and his pretty blue eyes narrow and widen, counting softly under his breath.

ravenstan does, unfortunately, find he can't count them all because like jersey said, it is a pretty damn near impossible task...that did NOT however, stop him from trying multiple times, the last time though, he didn't actually lose count, kyle just kissed the FUCK out of him because it was literally the loveliest thing he'd ever seen.

he did possibly get laid for that, i'm sorry.

but yeah FRECKLE SUPREMACY KYLE AND SPECIFICALLY JERS. that man has so many freckles that his body looks like the night sky on a perfectly clear day, it is...beautiful. it is a work of damn ART.

anyways...i'm done now.

do we see the vision ( of loveliness )

that is jew jersey kyle matthew BROFRECKLOVSKI????

-uncle nina, feral about extremely freckly jersey

p.s. ravenstan, as a man of justice for all and fairness, basically loves all of kyle's one hundred thousand million freckles equally but there is a darker one that is just above the right curve of his lip...THAT IS HIS FAVORITE FRECKLE, I AM SO SORRY IT IS THE EQUIVALENT OF THE RAVENSTAN RIGHT UNDER EYE BEAUTY MARK BUT FOR STAN LIKE HE IS FEEEERAL ABOUT IT. he does...give it a special kiss often...very gay of him. his second favorite freckle is...

anyways!

Next Question. <3

[naoa-ao3]

A Free Man

Alone in his cell, counting the days and weeks, months and years Ethan waits but nothing comes.

Prison life is not for him.

If it were a normal prison he could escape, if it were a normal prison where they didn't know about or believe in magic he could have done something and gotten away but it isn't a normal prison and there isn't anything he can do.

Padded walls and lights that go on and off at the same time every morning and night.

He isn't a demon and the place is built for them.

He wonders sometimes if Ripper had ever thought of that or if he thought of him now at all.

He's bitter and wants revenge.

His little trick hadn't warranted all of this, whatever he had done and so he waits, waiting for the chance where he might finally escape, the chance when he can bring hell and chaos to this place.

He thinks when he does escape he'll go and have a nice kebab. . . maybe hit a beach of course that's after he pays dar old Rupert a visit.

He'll get his revenge and really there's no one he's ever enjoyed fucking with as much as Ripper. No one who takes it so poorly.

Rupert never was very good at managing his temper.

He thinks back on his own miscreant youth, tattoos and demons and spells they hadn't been ready for.

Those years had been a delight and he had never felt so a part of a group of friends. . .

Now they were the only ones left, him and old Ripper. All the others dead like Randall on the floor.

He whiles away his days and weeks, his months and years.

He tries to keep his mind busy and wonders at how strong the prison's fortifications are. He can't get out but what's to stop something that really wants him from getting in?

High above his subterranean world is the Nevada sun.

The last time he'd seen it had been when they'd moved him here, hands cuffed and soldiers acting tough.

They're young, young as he had once been and he feels only contempt for them because they aren't wise and they don't want to learn.

All but one who he's seen watching him. The boy wears fatigues but there's magic to him and he watches him hungrily as if waiting for Ethan to share a secret.

Once he'd spoken to him, jested that the boy aught to give chaos a try, even recommended a few words to use and suggested he try burning some candles.

He knew the boy went home and tried it, he could smell brimstone and hell smoke on him the next day and it thrilled him just a little.

This one is on the edge and all he needs is a little push, a few words of well placed encouragement.

One day the boy comes to him, tall and sharp boned.

"What are you?" He asks.

Ethan looks at him, amused it's taken so little time to tempt him. "Only human." He say's.

"You wouldn't be here if you were." The boy say's, face pressed to the little window in his cell door.

Ethan chuckles. "There are only a few things I can do that you can't." He said. "And with enough practice you might be able to."

"Tell me another." The boy say's. "Another spell."

"You liked that one, did you?" Ethan asks, grinning ear to ear. He can't help it. The kid is so easy.

"Listen-"

He gives the boy the words. Maybe with enough promises he can get the lad to let him out.

The boy goes away and Ethan waits.

Three days later he smells hell smoke and smiles.

The boy is back.

Back at his window and angry.

"What the hell was that?" He asks, face screwed up.

Ethan shrugs from his bed. "I gave you a taste of the good, thought you should have a taste of the bad too."

"Don't fuck with me." The boy say's, ineffectual and furious.

"Wouldn't dream of it but you do need to know what you're getting into. Wouldn't be fair of me not to give you some warning."

The boy backs down, not stupid enough not to trust him. "How do I know the difference?" He asks.

Ethan just smiles on. "I could show you. Save you a lot of trouble during the trial and error phase."

"You're locked up you old has bin, what could you teach me?" The boy asks but he doesn't sound like he believes himself.

Ethan shrugs again. "I guess we'll never know." He say's.

The boy disappears but he's back a day later.

Ethan waits to hear what he has to say.

"If I got you out. . . how do I know you'd help me?"

"You don't but the only way you'll know is if you tried." Ethan said, nothing to lose.

The boy shakes his head and leaves but he's back the next day again. "If I got you out, you'd just kill me and run."

"Thought I was an old has bin." He says dryly.

The boy frowns. "Three days from now. If you try anything I'll blow your head off."

He nods and waits his three days and then at night the boy is there again, key card this time. He looks wary, like he doesn't trust him and he shouldn't. Ethan isn't going to teach him anything.

"You swear it?" The boy asks through the door.

Ethan nods and get's to his feet. There's nothing here he wants to take.

The door opens and the boy motions to him.

"We have to go now."

Of course they do, it's an action movie and he runs after him, adept at running away.

Up they go, up slanting corridors under fluorescent lights and out until they're crawling through a vent and he can taste fresh air.

There are demons he owes back rent to waiting and so he encourages the boy to go first.

The idiot does, hearing warning bells down bellow, back in the subterranean kingdom of slanting corridors and fluorescent lights they've just left.

The demons make a mistake and they tear at the wrong man, getting their blood debt and what was due anyway.

He waits, crouching in the vent. He's waited this long and then it's silent and he pokes his head out.

He can smell hell smoke in the air but the boy is gone and so are the monsters.

It's just him and he shrugs it off, looking to the stars to tell him which way is west and once he's got his baring he heads back to where he thinks Sunnydale still is.

Where he hopes Ripper still is and all that payback he can muster.

Stars over head and tunnels down below be damned, he's a free man now and the world is probably just a little worse off for it.

[darkestrellar]

Tempted as Clarissa may be to have ZED summon Thunderbird into the planet's atmosphere to come pick her and her apprentice up, it WOULD break around fifty different public and intergalactic bylaws. And while Clarissa isn't morally opposed to stomping on the feet of the local law enforcement, or making a few bored business commuters shit their pants when a literal war mech descends above the subway, it would rather inconvenience the rest of her and Svern's little stay. Maybe if it had been their last day on here it might have been fun stirring up the dust on their way out...

With nothing to do but wait on the train service to carry out their emergency repairs so they can get back on the move, Clarissa lays out on the platform with her hands tucked beneath her head as if cloudwatching (ignoring the sideye of fellow passengers). Just their luck to be trapped in the underground. She spends enough time in various bunkers and basements and space stations...at very least they could have gotten stuck waiting out in the open air, where she could feel the breeze wash over her skin and watch the rest of the city carry on around them.

The only air movement down here is the breath being shoved out from her chest as Svern, as if having waited all this time for a "seat" to free up, takes her newly horizontal orientation as an invitation to sit right in the middle of her goddamn torso. He might not be particularly heavy but Clarissa winces as Svern's unexpected weight pins her into the concrete, squishing her internals and jabbing the zip of her jacket into her flesh through her shirt.

Once Svern has settled himself, Clarissa returns to "skywatching", her face totally blank, despite the almost imperceptible tightness of her jaw at having Svern sitting right on her guts. This is all part of their usual little. Svern does something anybody else would react to, and Clarissa just doesn't. Or reacts wrong, or in a surprising way.

Minutes continue to drag along as the too-polite disembodied voice of the station announcement system rolls through its script of safety guidelines and non-updates. Svern shifts just a couple of inches in the wrong direction and Clarissa squawks and shoves him onto the platform.

"Get off, get off, get OFF! Before I either throw up on myself or you make me REALLY need to piss."

Opportunistic as ever, that was Svern. No seats available? No problem, just plant yourself square on top of your mentor instead.

He didn't actually look at Clarissa once while he was moving; just plunked himself right on top of her gut the moment the opening appeared. He knew exactly where (and how) to sit. To the onlookers it mightn't appear deeper than this redhead taking advantage of his companion's questionable choice to lie on the floor, using her as his personal cushion for the sake of his own comfort, but... this wasn't just about comfort, it was about discomfort.

Svern made himself nice and comfy, sitting with eyes up and forwards, still not so much as glancing down at Clarissa to check her reaction. Appearing content like that for the moment, he then waited patiently...

Clarissa silently put up with his weight pressing down where it definitely wasn't wanted. Svern kept a casual track of the time passing, sitting just as still and quiet, which was probably a lot easier to do when you weren't the one with someone's entire body weight pressing on your organs. One minute went by, then two, then an indeterminate number of seconds before he decided it was time to move on to the next phase of the plan.

That little readjustment to his seating position could have been just an innocent subconscious move, if he were someone else, maybe. But with Svern, nothing was ever innocent. He knew what he was doing from the moment he saw Clarissa move to lie down, and he knew what he was doing when he shuffled his butt over to ensure he was sitting in juuust the right way, so his weight was concentrated exactly where it counted.

Now, that should be enough to...

...Sure thing, he was sent tumbling off onto the concrete, with Clarissa's irritated exclamation as the prize for his inconsideration.

Svern made sure to give an indignant yelp of his own the moment he was evicted, as if he hadn't been aiming to cause Clarissa as much discomfort as possible, and he wasn't the primary one at fault here.

"You could've just ASKED me to move!" he complained, picking himself up (he was perfectly fine) and giving her an accusing stare.

[vexcor]

#6

You know, I've seen so many prompts and fics that involve Danny looking uncanningly similar to the waynes despite not being related, that the batfam themselves believe he's some sort of clone.

But I've actually never seen the same prompt done with Superman, of all people.

I mean, come on, black hair, weird blue eyes that glow a bit too much. Let's not forget the basic powers.

So first would be Clark spotting Danny somewhere in public and going "Wow a teenage version of me". He goes to walk on with his day but backpedals mentally.

Realization "Wait a teenage version of me?"

The second thing that comes to my mind is that Clark somehow spots Danny breathing cold mist onto a hot drink to cool it down. Hijinks ensue after that.

Super strength? Check

Laser eyes and laser hands (do we count that Danny can shoot lasers from his butt? Yes? Ok)? Check

Clark would probably think he's a meta at first, but then add the menagerie of powers and the idea that the kid might be a kryptonian on some level start to creep into his mind.

Until he sees the powers that Kryptonians don't have.

Invisibility?

Density Shifting? (Intangibility, but potato potatoe)

Minor Shapeshifting?

So he recaps.

Kid he doesn't know looks like a younger version of him that is going through a teenage phase.

Kid has most powers Clark has and some he does not have.

The weird color inverting transformation.

Que mental math gone wrong resulting in:

"Oh this kid is obviously some sort of clone that was experimented on to get more powers"

Who knows? Maybe Clark has the kid on careful watch and surveillance until a JL meeting where everyone catches up and he probably goes.

"Oh yeah I've been seeing this kid that looks like me and I think he might be a clone but also he may have martian DNA because he has powers I don't have and-"

[freedomfireflies]

Promises, Promises | 6. People We Know to People We Don't

Summary: Callie and Harry are trapped in a house with a murderer.

Only problem? They each think the other person did it.

Word Count: 1.9k

"Do not...fucking...move."

Callie is tempted to remind him yet again that they aren't visible to anyone on the other side, but even she herself isn't quite sure if Derek is simply looking at his own reflection...or looking at them.

She begins to crane her neck a bit further to get a better look, but Harry's grip becomes tighter as he holds her to the wall.

"Easy," he hisses under his breath. "Maybe he can't see you, but he'll hear you if you don't fucking stay still."

"You're the one talking," she retorts before pursing her lips shut and glancing back.

Derek hasn't moved. His hands are braced on the bathroom sink as he leans forward, eyes flicking across the glass before he finally drops his head down.

Something is wrong.

Callie knows at least that much, and Harry begins to realize it, too, watching him for a moment as he takes long, focused breaths before the two exchange a look.

"The fuck is he doing?" Harry asks, more to himself, and Callie shakes her head.

"I don't know."

His jaw clenches with what Callie imagines to be bitter contempt. "Why would he do this?"

The real question Harry wants answered. Callie supposes she'd also like to know, but Harry...Harry looks like he's been betrayed.

And she supposes he has. His best friend not only faked his death but lured Harry into a sick game of survival of the fittest which Harry never agreed to play.

Of course, this all rests on the condition that Harry truly was betrayed, and Callie isn't falling for a trap meant to lead her to her ultimate demise.

After all, once Harry stopped reaching out to her, he was reaching out to Derek. Their friendship had survived not only high school but now college as well. 

Derek is Harry's best friend, absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind. So why would he plan an elaborate massacre just to leave Harry out of it?

Well, he wouldn't, and that's what Callie reminds herself as she glances over Harry's hardened expression.

It's nothing but a show. Another trick to convince her he's on her side.

But she knows better.

She knows better.

"Yo, Derek."

Callie's breath hitches as she hears a new voice enter the conversation. Harry narrows his eyes in concentration, pupils flicking across the glass behind her as she assumes he watches Derek exit the bathroom.

Then, he places his finger against his lips, signaling again for her silence, and she glares at him quickly before shoving at his chest in order for him to release her.

He does, stepping back with a frown of his own before they turn to the window and wait.

"We don't have a lot of time," one of the slightly familiar voices begins, and Callie feels her chest tighten.

"I know," Derek grumbles in response, although Harry and Callie can no longer see him.

She assumes he's behind the wall they're currently huddled beside, and once she presses her ear against the surface, her suspicion is confirmed.

"Did you find them?"

"No, not in the basement."

"Well they're fucking here somewhere," Derek snaps, and she hears Harry snort under his breath. "All right? So find them."

"Maybe they're fucking," another voice adds with a snicker. "Maybe she's his last meal—"

"You're so fucking stupid—"

"She'd be my last meal—"

Callie pushes off the wall then, unable to hear anything else they might have the fucking nerve to vocalize.

"Calliope," Harry calls in a hushed whisper, and she can hear his heavy footsteps approaching from behind. "Calliope—"

She doesn't stop. She keeps walking and walking and walking, unable to focus on Harry, or Derek, or the fact that they might die in this pretentious ass house.

She just needs to be alone.

"Calliope, I know you can fucking hear me," the angry voice calls from behind, although she doesn't let it phase her. "Where the fuck are you even going?"

"Anywhere," she whispers to herself, her chest riddled with tension. "Please, God, take me anywhere."

"Calliope."

A hand comes out to slam the wall beside her, an arm now blocking her from taking another step as she skids to a stop.

He's sneering at her, glaring down at the timid girl before him as she squeezes her eyes shut.

"All right," he hisses, and she can feel the rage through his tone. "Now...what the fuck are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"To where?"

"I don't know," she huffs, still watching the floor. "But I don't want to wait here just to die."

He doesn't respond for a moment, and she wonders if he's ready to drop the topic, and then...she feels his hand.

He reaches out to grasp her jaw between his fingers, yanking her head up until she's forced to look at him.

"Is this about what they said?" he grumbles, head dipping down so she's forced to know nothing but him. "You're scared of me now?"

"I've never been scared of you," she scoffs, trying to pull back but failing. "Let go—"

"The idea of fucking me that horrific?" he continues, a mock to his words. "Gotta run away?"

"I'm not running away—"

His grip tightens to a degree so painful that she begins to wince. "Don't lie to me, Calliope. I know you."

Another lie.

She can feel the anguish in her heart as she stares up at him, reaching up to place her hands on his chest and shove him backward. "Fuck you."

He takes a step back, balancing himself quickly, but his frown never falters.

"You don't know me," she nearly laughs. "You...bullshit. No, you don't know me. You've never known me. Not then, not now."

He's quiet, head cocking to the side as he studies her. "I know that you're afraid of ladybugs."

She scoffs.

"I know that you have a scar on your left rib cage from when you fell out of a tree," he continues, and she can feel the bile rise in her throat. "I know that you were only friends with Lexi because you thought people would like you more."

She's gonna kill him.

"I know that you miss your parents, but not as much as you think you should," he mumbles, his volume dropping slightly as his eyes flick between hers. "And I know that you hate me for leaving you."

There it is.

She can tell he's been waiting, just fucking waiting to drop that bomb on her. To prove something he thinks is true.

And maybe it is.

But aloud, she snorts, glancing away. "The day you left me for them was the best day of my life."

"Liar."

Her jaw clenches. "I'm not lying. I waited on those tracks for hours and by the time I realized you weren't my friend anymore...I realized how happy that made me."

His eyes never waver from hers. "I had to go."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"I couldn't...I had to," he stammers, clearly annoyed. "All right? Just...I had to go."

"No, I agree," she retorts. "Yeah, I mean my parents had just died so clearly you needed to die on me, too."

She can see the uncertainty on his face for the briefest of moments. "I wasn't dying on you, I just—"

"You were just trading me in for cooler friends," she answers for him. "Didn't want to get any of my grief all over your brand-new personality."

"It wasn't about that—"

"Of course it fucking was. You wanted nothing to do with the sad little broken girl who watched her mommy and daddy die—"

"I wasn't—"

"So you decided that my pain was too heavy for you and you left," she barks. "Told me you'd walk me to the funeral and then you never showed. That you'd be there for me. And you weren't. And I had to go alone."

"Calliope—"

"I was alone," she repeats, and Harry's mouth snaps shut. "While you were out getting high with Derek."

He's quiet now, clearly unable to form a response, and that's response enough for Callie.

She turns around and heads back the way she came, refusing to look him in the eye again.

Maybe he's always hated her. Maybe he and Derek planned this from the beginning. An elaborate plan to humiliate her one last time.

But of course, Harry can't just let shit go, storming after her yet again as he grabs her upper arm and squeezes as he yanks her back around.

"Do not fucking walk away from me," he seethes, peering down at her with contempt. "Okay, no, I didn't walk you to the fucking funeral. But you were just fine, and you know it. You never needed me—"

"Of course I fucking needed you, my parents had just died—"

"And how was I gonna help with that?"

"Because you were the only person I felt safe with."

Harry leans back like she slapped him, eyes widening in pure disbelief.

And for a moment, Callie begins to regret her admission, but she barrels on nonetheless. "You were. You were my best friend, and my protector, and my happy place. And even though the worst thing in the world had just happened to me, all I could think about was getting to see you. Cause I knew if I saw you...I'd be okay."

She can tell he hadn't expected such honesty from her, and while she feels her heart shattering into pieces inside her chest, she doesn't cower away from the truth.

If she was brought here to die, Harry should at least know what he meant to her before she gets stabbed to death.

If for nothing else but to make her younger self proud.

"And I waited, and I waited, and when I finally put it together...I realized maybe I was better off," she finishes. "Because waiting for you on those train tracks was the only thing loud enough to wake me up."

His fingers tug at her skin as he grips her arm a bit tighter. "Good."

"Yeah."

They glare at each other in the small passageway, neither one accepting defeat until a familiar sound drifts through the vents and envelopes the tiny space.

"Never had a doubt...in the beginning. Never a doubt."

It's that damn song again, and Callie scoffs as she yanks her arm from his hand. "Great."

"Why the fuck is it this song?" Harry asks with annoyance as he looks around the tattered walls. "Derek doesn't even like music like this."

"I don't know," Callie grumbles, eyeing him carefully the moment he mentions Derek. "But clearly you don't know him as well as you think you do."

"No fucking shit," Harry agrees, but softly, as if to himself. "Okay...I have an idea, but I don't think you're gonna like it."

Her face falls. "No."

"You haven't even heard it yet—"

"Exactly."

"Calliope," he grunts, shooting her a look of warning. "We don't have a choice—"

"Yes, we do."

"No, the only choices are either stay here and die of starvation or stay here and die because we fucking killed each other," he argues. "I would much rather at least try and fight our way out of this."

"Right," she snorts to herself, glancing away. "Let me guess, you wanna pretend to turn ourselves in?"

He leans back, blinking. "Yeah...actually."

"Nope."

With that, she continues walking away.

"Callio—Calliope," he seethes, striding behind her. "We don't have any other option, if we at least try and take them—"

"No."

"It's three against two, and I'm basically like two people so it's even," he continues gruffly. "And you're crazy enough for two so that's like four against three, which means we can't fucking lose."

With this, she spins around to face him as he slows to a stop. "You are awful at math."

Smirking a bit, he crosses his arms over his dark t-shirt. "Look, I'd rather die knocking his fucking teeth in than by sitting here with my dick in my hands waiting for them to find us like a couple of pussies."

"This is a horrible pep talk—"

"The point, Calliope, is that...we don't have anything else to fucking lose," he finishes, and despite it all, she knows he has a point. "So...you gonna help me make this fucker pay...or what?"

She begins to chew on the inside of her cheek as she assesses her options, looking over his hardened but hopeful expression as she debates what could be the last decision she ever makes.

Then, with a regretful sigh, she straightens up and reaches for the bow in her hair, tightening it in its place before moving her hands to her hips and nodding once.

"Lead the way."

Next:

~ Promises, Promises | 7. The Truth is Out There*

Previous:

~ Promises, Promises | 5. Never Had a Doubt

Full Masterlist

[confused-stars]

I saw your tags for the Sign AU, and I can't stop thinking about the possible interrogation. Shigaraki is preparing himself for hours of grueling questions about locations, members, quirks, and plans. But then his favorite hero shows up and asks how he knows his sign name? It's been two hours and Shigaraki still doesn't understand why they are asking about this. He is confused. Aizawa is confused. And AFO has no idea about all the chaos a sign name has caused.

*clears throat* may i-

It must have been hours at this point. Tomura is sure, from how drained he feels and how tight his stomach is with hunger. They’ve offered him a sandwich, sure, but he wasn’t about to accept it. Especially since the handcuffs around his wrists were clearly created with him - or touch-based quirk users - specifically in mind: rather than hold his hands behind his back, or loosely in front, they force his palms together, fingers pressed against each other as if he’s praying, secured together with five sets of dual rings that wrap around his joints. It’s not uncomfortable, but it also leaves him just a little more helpless. If he wants to eat, someone will have to feed him, and he absolutely refuses to even entertain the notion.

Kurogiri is still out there. The League is still out there. They’ll come for him if only he waits long enough. They’ll find out where he is. He’s not being moved to Tartarus, he knows that much, because Sensei is there and they don’t want them close. 

He almost wishes they would move him. That they'd just give it up already. He hasn't said a word since they brought him in.

Well... that's not entirely true.

When All Might was here earlier, tired and skinny looking and... and pathetic, with no right to keep his head held high like that, and he called Tomura by a name that's not his (it's not, it's not, it's not), Tomura did snap at him to shut up. To 'fucking stop it'. He hated the kicked puppy look. the gentle words that felt like poison to Tomura's ears, because who does All Might think he is? Tomura Shigaraki is still a villain. Tenko Shimura is dead. When he spat that out, All Might's resolve hardened, and he began a more traditional interrogation. At that point, Tomura couldn't have answered even if he'd wanted to. He still can't speak, now. They obviously don't know that. It’s a weakness he’s not just going to admit to.

Tomura’s head jerks up when a set of steps actually stops outside the door. He shakes a loose strand of hair out of his face, hating that he can’t even brush them aside himself. Who is it this time? The detective with the lie detector quirk again? Or someone who can actually force Tomura to speak? How far are these heroes willing to go?

But the door opens, and it’s the one person Tomura can’t help but be shocked to see. Eraserhead.

Tired-looking as always, the scar underneath his eye a new addition from when Tomura last saw him in person. What’s he doing here? Tomura wishes he could ask. Instead, he just settles for a somewhat confused glare.

Eraserhead looks him up and down, expression unreadable. All underground heroes must have good poker faces, Tomura thinks. He wishes he had that ability. Tomura is not a good liar. He never needed to be.

“When’s the last time you had something to drink?” Eraserhead asks, hands moving to sign along, and, okay, is he here to play good cop? Playing off the begrudging respect Tomura has for him?

Tomura doesn’t move. He keeps glaring. Eraserhead sighs and approaches the table, dropping down in the chair opposite Tomura. He fumbles with a pouch on his belt for a moment, and eventually pulls out a juice box. It’s almost enough to make Tomura laugh at the absurdity - it’s the same brand Kurogiri buys. Eraserhead stabs the straw through the little hole on top and pushes it over on the table. Tomura looks down at the juice box, then up at him. He is thirsty. His throat is dry enough that swallowing hurts a little, and the sugar in the juice will definitely be helpful, and when the League comes to break him out, he’ll need to be in the best shape he can hope for. 

He sinks down in his seat the best he can, and stretches his head forward until he can catch the straw between his lips. It’s still humiliating, though better than someone holding it for him, and he looks anywhere but Eraserhead as he empties the juice box within seconds.

“Well, that’s a start.” Eraserhead slumps in his seat and sighs, sounding very world-weary. Tomura knows the man is only in his early thirties, but he seems to have been aging rapidly lately. That’s probably due to Tomura’s own actions. He wonders what Eraserhead sees when he looks at him. A victim to be saved, like All Might apparently thinks? Just a too skinny kid who is in over his head? Or is he actually smart enough to understand that Tomura doesn’t want, doesn’t need saving? That Tomura is the monster they should all be afraid of and he lives for it?

Maybe Eraserhead sees a little bit of both. Those eyes of his are very sharp. Tomura should have had the noumu take them, back at the USJ. Then his quirk wouldn’t have been a problem anymore either.

“I’d love to know what you’re thinking,” Eraserhead tells him, voice dry as Compress’ favored liquor.

Tomura raises a brow at him. Shrugs. Looks away.

Eraserhead is silent for a little while. The seconds tick by, though Tomura can’t be sure that his count is correct. There’s no clock in here. No window, either, of course. He has no way of telling how long he’s really been here. If he ends up falling asleep eventually, he’ll be completely lost. Hopefully his rescue comes before that.

“... Shigaraki,” Eraserhead says finally, slowly, “If you wanted to talk to me right now, would you be able to?”

Oh. Oh, no. Tomura knows they're being watched, but he doesn’t know how the detective’s quirk works, if he can detect a lie when it’s just communicated through a gesture... but even if he can’t... Tomura nodding right now would kind of prove Eraserhead’s point, wouldn’t it? So he sighs and gives a jerky shake of his head.

Eraserhead nods, clearly Tomura just confirmed what he suspected. Because unlike most heroes, Eraserhead actually has the brains to back up his quirk and fighting skills. "Detective, I'm going to need the key to those cuffs."

There's a crackle from the speaker in the corner of the room. "That doesn't seem like a wise idea."

Ah, arguing right in front of him. Tomura smiles lazily, even though he hates having his face exposed like this. They took Father and the others, of course. He's going to have to find them before they leave.

"I'll erase his quirk if he tries anything. You want him to communicate, don't you?" Eraserhead asks, a tad snappy.

There's a long pause, then the door opens and the detective steps through. He doesn't take his eyes off of Tomura, even as he hands Eraserhead a single, tiny key. Tomura returns his gaze with an outward calm that he's not feeling at all. He can't make them go back on this decision, he wants so desperately to have his hands free so he can scratch that incessant itch that's been growing worse and worse with each passing minute.

"You're going to let me take these off you without trying anything, right?" Eraserhead asks. They have no replacement cuffs, but those would be a farce anyway, wouldn't they? And if they want Tomura to sign, he'll need greater range than a standard set of them would allow him. He rolls his eyes and nods, presenting his folded hands to the hero. The detective watches for another moment or two, then steps back out, undoubtedly to continue observing.

It takes a little fumbling on Eraserhead's part to get the cuffs off, with all their little moving pieces, and he's either being very careful so he won't hurt himself on accident, or, less likely, so he won't hurt Tomura. Tomura's own eyes drift to his elbow and he wonders about the massive scar that must be hidden underneath that sleeve.

Finally, his hands are free, and gently glowing red eyes turn to his face.

Tomura ignores him for the time being in order to scratch at his neck, deep and thorough until he tears skin.

Eraserhead makes an aborted movement, as if to stop him, but then seems to change his mind, fist clenched atop the table. Good. If he wants Tomura coherent, he'll need to let him fight off the onset of another episode that's been looming for a while.

"Did All for One teach you sign language because of your nonverbal phases?" Eraserhead asks. It makes Tomura very aware of the fact that he doesn't usually do interrogations. This is none of the usual bullshit, talking around the point for ages. This is blunt and straight to the point.

Tomura gives a headshake.

Eraserhead waits, expectant.

Tomura thinks the hero is lucky he's bored and his is an innocent line of questioning and he actually respects Eraserhead. That's why he pulls his hand away from his neck and signs 'Sensei doesn't speak sign.'

"Who taught you, then?" Immediate, no hesitation. Why does he want to know this, of all things? Literally anything else would be more important. He may as well be asking how Tomura got so proficient at darts.

He sighs, and spells it out. 'K-U-R-O-G-I-R-I'

Eraserhead's brows draw together. "He taught you things? How long has he been around?"

Tomura presses his lips together and glares. Like hell is he giving them anything on the rest of the League. Especially Kurogiri.

The hero sighs. "Look, kid." Tomura scoffs.

"... Shigaraki. Back at the USJ, you used a name for me that's different from my official hero name. It's a name very few people know."

Now it's Tomura's turn to frown. He knows what the separate signs of Eraserhead's name mean, of course, and he's often thought they were odd, but seeing as his own sign name is also anything but villainous he didn't think he had room to judge.

'Your sign name?' he asks, 'Eraserhead?'

"No." The hero shakes his head and makes a series of signs. "Eraserhead." He then repeats the signs Tomura just used. "Shouta."

Oh. Well, that's awkward. Tomura gets the entirely absurd urge to apologize.

Having his sign name used by an enemy who very nearly killed him must be pretty uncomfortable for Eraser. Tomura would never want his enemies to know his own. It's private, and it was a gift that Kurogiri gave him. Even the rest of the League doesn't know it, they only know the one Tomura made up for himself, reusing the name of his quirk for it.

'Not many people know?' Tomura questions.

Eraserhead huffs. "Do I look like the kind of person who goes around sharing information like that?" Probably not, no.

Tomura nods. 'That's why you're here?'

"There's a lot that's odd about you, ki- Shigaraki. A lot that doesn't add up. This, in particular, is something that's been causing me some problems."

Oh.

Oh. Tomura can't help the laugh that breaks out of him, his voice returning only for the giggles that shake his shoulders. Eraserhead thought one of his trusted few had betrayed him. Had given the information to Tomura. That's too good. He almost wants to make him keep believing it. Or even tell him a lie, but, again, the detective is on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"I'm glad this is funny to you," Eraserhead says dryly, "Care to let me in on the joke?"

Tomura is still giggling when he signs, and maybe that's why he makes the mistake.

'Kurogiri taught me,' he says, 'But good to know I created some mistrust among you.'

Eraserhead is frozen in his seat. Even his quirk is inactive now, as Tomura suddenly realizes. He's held out pretty long. His eyes have got to hurt. Maybe Tomura can make him overextend himself. But there's too many guns nearby. Tranquilizers, no doubt. He wouldn't get very far, even if a kill or two would be satisfying.

'Can I have another juice box?' he asks, just to be difficult.

Eraserhead jerks out of his stupor. "Who... who did you say taught you?"

Did Tomura use Kurogiri's sign name on accident? Huh.

'K-U-R-O-G-I-R-I. Sign name: Kurogiri.' His hands form 'fluffy' and 'cloud' like they have a hundred thousand times. It's a cutesy name for someone who is not cutesy at all. But so is 'Dust Bunny' and so is 'Sleepy Cat'.

Eraserhead takes a shaky breath. His fingers are trembling when he signs 'Fluffy Cloud' himself. "Oboro," he says, "That's... what that... who that name belongs to. Shirakumo Oboro." He looks like he's very far away, but at the same time couldn't be more in the moment. He's pale, but his eyes are focused and dark. "Shigaraki. Tell me about Kurogiri."

It's in that moment that the door gets blown into pieces by a blast of blue flames.

And the shouting and running and destruction that follow don't really give them much more room for idle chit-chat.

[tsuki-sennin]

a

That's it, no funny intro this time, I've been waiting all goddamn day to see this and I don't exactly know how to phrase my excitement.

Aside from that, here's some Spoilers, I guess...

-Also, I was spoiled on the fact that George is indeed transforming. I uh... didn't mean to spoil myself, but I follow Noritaka Hamao on Twitter and he was super jazzed about the whole thing so good for him!

-Aaaaand there he is! Ikki-nii!

-He's physically incapable of calling Sakura anything other than "Karate Girl". I mean, he's not wrong, but I assume that he might break out into hives if he does call her by name.

-Ohhhh, somebody's dying. Or perhaps truly becoming one.

-"They defy all scientific reason, but 'God damn' I hope they make it."

-Demons moment!

-Wait... from a few episodes ago... when Vail left the Demons Driver and Olteca raged about his modifications...

-He modded it for himself, didn't he.

-Hey, hey, hey, hey!

-He's not your average science man! He's basically playing god.

-His English is truly glorious.

-Hey, fellas. You okay?

-Oh, I guess not!

-Ohhhh, that's spooky.

-We're all the way back in the past. ...or at least, in what Ikki remembers.

-"No one can ever know" feels a lot more ominous now.

-Very... lovely twinkling music!

-Oh god, we really are back in the past.

-OH GOD DEMONS

-Er, that is, the Gifterians.

-This is... a lot scarier than I was expecting?

-He's having an inner struggle, he's fine.

-AGUILERA NO

-Oh, he's a douchebag fiance too! ...I mean, he is a groomer, a mass-murderer, probably very racist, and a literal demonic god, but that slap caught me off guard.

-Cults are monstrous beyond my comprehension. Fuck Gifu and fuck Akaishi, I can't wait to kick their asses.

-OHHHHH HE'S GIFU NOW

-Olteca, you mad man!

-Phase 4 then?

-Jesus Christ, I'm getting really bad vibes from these demons.

-OHHHH

-FUCK DUDE

-Man, looks like Dai-chan's already struggling.

-Tamaki, bro, pls

-George, buddy, I know you're having the time of your life right now, but you gotta rein it in a little.

-Ah, yep, looks like he took a bit too much.

-Vail's got a real twisted sense of partnership. He's basically Genta's salty douchebag ex-boyfriend.

-"Fuck the fighting. Go play Minecraft or something instead!"

-Ohhhh, there he is. A Shadow, of Ikki's true inner self. All of his Vice centered into a physical form. Insert I'll Face Myself here. Preferably the Reincarnation version, that's the best one.

-Oh he's healin'. Cheating bitch.

-You logically should know all of his moves, man.

-Remember the fam!

-Damn, these feels

-Aibou...

-Ikki stands to protecc

-They're back up!

-THUNDER GALE!

-COME ON! THUNDER GALE GO!

-Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh the wind's blowing!

-HEY HEY HEY HEY!!!!

-Revice!

-Thunder Gale! Amazing!

-REVICE DA!

-OHHHH HE FAST

-That Cross of Fire burns real hot!

-OHHH THEY SPEAK AT THE SAME TIME THAT'S SO COOL

-STOMP HIM

-Now that. Is a fucking thunderstrike.

-Not gonna do a count down? I'll do it then!

-3!

-2!

-1!

-De-merged!

-OH GOD OLTECA

-oHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THAT'S NOT GOOD AT ALL

-Guess he got everything he wanted and is going home to his apartment to smoke weed or something. He doesn't even acknowledge Aguilera.

-We're back!

-...and also we're fucked!

-Let her go, man. She absolutely needs to have a good long think.

-Hello, Daddy. You probably owe a lot of child support.

-Yeah, I don't blame you, George.

-Fuck you Akaishi.

-It seems we're all fighting from a different angle for the same purpose. Sakura with the Weekenders, Daiji with internal reformation, and Ikki and Vice on call for whatever comes up.

-There's a whole 6 stamps left on that sheet. It would seem our time with the Igarashi family has yet to come close to over.

-MOVIE WHAT

-Goddamn, looks like we're gonna have to do some funky detensioning. I hope it's not like a glorified recap episode or clipshow.

-(*Looks left.. looks right... leans into microphone...*)

-...where Jeanne super form?

[jackalopesao3]

HC's for if MC cheats on the brothers

Thanks for the HC request, @l6vipliks!

I am so sorry this took so long! I'm just getting over a writer's block and catching up with requests. 😅

TW: Angst, cheating, feelings of low self-esteem

💔💔💔 I strongly believe cheating would cause all the brothers to think of MC differently. I can't really see them forgiving MC. MC would probably spend the remainder of their time alone. MC hurt their brother after all. 💔💔💔

Lucifer

Initially, he'd be shocked, not believing his eyes at first. He wouldn't do anything immediately but when MC gets home he pulls them aside to speak privately, ending the relationship. Lucifer does not ask why. Lucifer does not wait for an apology or explanation. He tells MC to leave and locks himself in his study. The eldest buries himself in work to ignore the pain in his heart. Did he do something to deserve this? Maybe they were using him all along. He doesn't tell his brothers about what happened but some of them will figure it out. He can't even look at MC after what they did. He'll talk to them when he absolutely needs to but there will be no emotion in his voice. He starts treating MC like an unwanted responsibility. The brothers will offer Lucifer silent support by bringing him things that are comforting to him or just making sure he's not alone. They'll let him know that he can count on them and that he doesn't have to suffer by himself. If anything, he may bond with his brothers as they help him to heal. It will take a long time for him to trust a romantic partner again, if ever.

Mammon

He wouldn't believe his eyes at first. What is MC doing?! His entire body would freeze up and he'd look on in disbelief. When MC notices, they'd shove the other RAD student aside and run over to him, in an attempt to apologize. "Ya could have just broke up with me, you know." He'd transform and get home in record speed before anyone could see him cry. Mammon will lock the bedroom door and just slumped to the floor, completely shattered. MC was his world. He won't stop sobbing for a long time and whenever he thinks about it he'll breakdown. The second born will try to numb the pain with gambling and excessive spending to fill the hole MC left but it won't work. Nothing makes Mammon feel any less empty. His brothers will notice a change by the listlessness in his eyes and voice. Like Lucifer, he's not going to tell them. They'll figure it out. For once, they have no insults for him, just a shoulder to cry on or soft words of comfort. They take turns spending time with Mammon so he isn't alone, helping him to recover and move on but he'll never fully heal from such a betrayal. If he has to interact with MC after that, it will be in short and cold sentences.

Leviathan

He wouldn't shocked but he would be quite hurt. "Who could truly love a creepy Otaku like him anyways?" He always tells himself that so why does it still hurt when he sees MC cheating? "It's okay, MC. I knew you wouldn't want to be with a weird Otaku like me," he'll tell them dejectedly before locking himself up in his room. The only one he'll tell is Henry 2.0. He will cry and curl up in his bathtub, hugging a body pillow close to him. At first, the brothers don't suspect anything is wrong. Levi often spends a lot of time holed up in his room. It's when he doesn't get hyped about an anime sequel he's been waiting for that gives them a clue something is wrong. The brothers will figure it out. They'll keep him company and try to cheer him up. They may even spoil him with Ruri-chan presents. No amount of anime or video game paraphernalia will heal those wounds MC left. Honestly, he might never recover. Levi won't interact with MC after this. He'll just hunch his shoulders and slink away whenever MC walks into the room he's in.

Satan

Anger would be his first response as the avatar of wrath. He will confront MC as soon as he sees it. He'll tell them it's over and to never speak to him again. He won't hurt MC or the other RAD student, instead he goes to blow off some steam somewhere private. Out in the woods, where no one can see or hear him, he'll let out an anguished cry and snap a few trees. However, his anger isn't really towards MC. It's towards himself. How could MC love a monster born of anger and hatred anyways? Satan will not even look at MC for the remainder of the year, pretending they're not even there. The brothers will know immediately what happened as someone was bound to overhear him confronting MC. They'll be at a loss on how to comfort him but feel terrible. It will be Lucifer that first reaches out. Their conversation will start out rocky but Lucifer will remind Satan how far he's come and how proud he is of him. The eldest will make sure Satan stops viewing himself as a monster. This will take a lot of time and the other brothers will help too but, in time, Satan will heal. He may even bond with Lucifer and strengthen their relationship. It would take a miracle for him to trust a romantic partner again though.

Asmodeus

They're...cheating on him?! Him?! Why?! How could they do that to someone as beautiful as Asmodeus?! All his insecurities he tries so carefully to hide will come bubbling to the surface. He can't even say anything to MC, tears running down his face. When he finally manages to speak to them it's along the lines of, "So that's how it ends..." He loved MC more than he loved himself. He would have given them the world. They had his heart and his loyalty. Contrary to what some may think, Asmo would never cheat and views it as a deep betrayal. He locks himself away, crying for days. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't take care of himself. The brothers notice that something's wrong as soon as they see his disheveled appearance and the bags under his eyes. When asked, he spills, telling them everything. His brothers will try their best to comfort him and remind him of the things they love about him. Asmo will also face his insecurities and learn to overcome them during the healing phase. He'll come out stronger but he may not seek a romantic relationship again, just physical ones that last one night, at least for a while. He won't acknowledge MC much except for a passive-aggressive comment here or there which only ends up making him feel sad.

Beelzebub

He won't understand at first. Beel never would have thought MC could be cruel like that. He'd try to ask why but any answer MC provides will only give him more questions. He'll just quietly walk away after that confrontation. Beel will try to eat to distract himself from the heartache but he never feels full, moreso now than ever. Sometimes the grief will prevent him from eating at all. Belphie will be the first to notice something's wrong. Once he gets it out of Beel he'll be enraged at MC but keeps himself together for Beel. Soon, all the brothers would know. They'd feel terrible and try to cook and/or order all his favorite foods, even knowing that won't be enough to get over the heartbreak but it helps, if only a little. They'll all spend a lot of time with him, comforting him as best they can. It will take a long time for Beel to process this and recover from the hurt. He's more likely than most of his brothers to try love again some day if they right person comes along. Beel will still talk to MC when necessary but the fondness for them will be gone from his voice and the conversations will be short.

Belphegor

Belphie loves MC with all his heart. When he sees them cheating on him he'd feel overwhelmed with anguish and guilt. He would say to himself, "I am the one that killed him. I deserve this." It won't hurt any less. Belphie won't make a scene, instead talking to MC about it later. "I understand, MC. I just wish...never mind. Good luck, MC." He'll force a smile but it won't reach his eyes. Belphie will be able to hold it together until he's alone. He'll cry for hours over the pain and over his own guilt. Maybe he was right about humans all along but he quickly dismissed that thought, that's what got him here in the first place wasn't it? He sleeps now more than ever. Beel will pick up on the change first. When the truth comes out, Beel will feel heartbroken for his twin. He'll try his best to make Belphie see that this wasn't his fault. The other brothers will catch wind of what happened and each of them will take time to check in on him, trying their best to comfort him. Belphie will learn to forgive MC and himself with time but he won't talk to MC unless he has to and it will be in a neutral voice. As much as he wants to hate humans again, he will try to see the good in them, for Lilith's sake. He won't love again for a long time but a romantic relationship is a possibility if he finds the right person.

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​ @jamies-kpop-reactions​

Chapter 15: Our Story

The mere seconds that Mom spent staring at me and Taemin, slackjawed in the doorway, might as well have lasted forever.

I think we wouldn't have looked half as guilty if we hadn't flinched lightyears apart from each other at her gasp, but it was our instinct to run and hide. As it turns out, we didn't melt or fade in the light of discovery, but we certainly did burn.

"Oops!" Mom almost giggled as she tiptoed back into the hallway and closed the door with a soft click. Like she had done something wrong, she apologized. "I'm sorry! Lei, I just came to tell you that dinner is ready. Come down whenever you get hungry!"

Before I could speak even in a timid squeak of a voice, I heard Mom's footsteps retreat down the stairs. Because tense silence had fallen over my room, I heard Donghae ask, "Where's Lei? Is she okay?"

And I heard Heechul say, "She's not curled up in bed with her radio crying her eyes out to SHINee again, is she? I thought we were past that phase!"

I went red in the face because I had certainly grown a bit past that phase, but only because I had Taemin— the real-life person— to curl up with. Thinking only that Taemin was a million times more comforting than any CD had ever been-- and that's really saying something since you know well that music was my best friend before Lucas— I glanced at him.

From the foot of the bed where he had tucked himself into a humiliated ball, Taemin sprang to his feet and started pacing around in the dark.

"Oh my God," he wheezed, nearly tripping over his shoes. "She caught us. Your mother— my manager— caught me in your room. She caught us kissing. She caught us kissing in your room. She caught me kissing you on your bed in your room. She caught me whispering into your mouth that I love you on your bed in the dark in your room."

I had been flustered before Taemin became a human embodiment of anxiety. A fact about me: I strive for balance in almost every situation. If somebody (take Lucas for example) is bouncing off the walls, I will sit perfectly still. If somebody is frowning, I am trying to make them smile, even if it's the briefest, dimmest sort of smile. If somebody (like Taemin was that night) is in a panic, I am level-headed.

So when Taemin tugged at his hair, whining, "She's going to kill me. And if she doesn't kill me, she'll make me break up with you, and then that's gonna kill me. Shit, shit, shit."

"She is not going to kill you," I said confidently because I knew Mom like the back of my hand. Granted, I didn't know every detail of her life before me, but I knew her well enough to know that she wasn't angry. Mom never apologizes when she isn't sorry. She never apologizes when she's mad.

I was kind of joking when I said, "If she wanted to kill you, she would have sent Heechul and Donghae flying up the stairs, and—”

"Shit!" Taemin hissed. Profanities didn't suit him. "Super Junior is going to kill me!"

Slightly wavering in confidence, I assured him, "No, they're not. Mom isn't going to say anything to Super Junior."

Besides, I rationalized to myself, Yesung, who would have posed the biggest threat to Taemin's life, already knew that we were together. If Yesung didn't kill Taemin at the Christmas party, I figured that we were in the clear.

If Taemin hadn't been pacing so quickly, I might have tried to catch him in my arms to kiss his worries away as he had done for me. Given that kissing had led to this tension, though, he might not have appreciated the affection. Maybe it's a good thing that I didn't try to kiss him.

Taemin collapsed onto the edge of the bed and buried his face into his hands. When moments passed in silence, I took the chance to say, "She won't make us break up either, Taem. She just-- she was probably just shocked because she didn't know you were here. On top of that, she has always thought that Lucas and I are a thing, so—”

Into his palms, Taemin groaned, "She probably thinks you're cheating on Lucas with me or something! That makes everything a billion times worse!"

"It's more likely that she just realized that Lucas and I were never together. I mean, I've told her often enough that the message was bound to sink in sooner or later." After pulling Taemin's hands away from his face, I laced our fingers together. I gave both hands a gentle squeeze. "I get that this isn't how we wanted Mom to find out about us, but she had to find out somehow."

To tell you the truth, I was relieved that she found out in this private aspect of life and not through a tabloid expose.

"I know that you wanted to keep this-- us-- a secret so we could be roommates on tour, but we couldn't hide in the dark forever."

And to tell you the truth, I didn't want to. I wasn't eager to pen some press release or anything, but I think I was outgrowing that compulsion, that dependence on secrecy and shadows; they didn't comfort me anymore.

From everything that happened over those past few months, I learned that secrets are damning. At least in my own home, I wanted to live openly and honestly. Maybe Mom's unexpected discovery made that possible.

Stunned by my lack of humiliation, slackjawed because, for the first time, Taemin was embarrassed while I was not, I realized out loud, "I think— I think I'm glad that she found out." Drawing a deep breath, the kind that makes you realize that you've been holding your breath for far too long, I admitted, "I think— I think I've wanted her to know for a long time. Maybe forever."

Silence ensued as Taemin breathed heavily. Deeply. Inhale, count to ten. Exhale, count to ten.

My mouth opened, probably to explain that I nearly told Mom all about us on the drive to Grandma's house on my debut anniversary, but Taemin's stare took my voice away. He blinked at me. The spark in his eyes made me think that he wanted to smile at me. In hindsight, I guess he didn't. Taemin always smiled whenever he wanted to smile, and he didn't offer me the smallest grin for the rest of the night.

"I have to go," he breathed before stepping into his shoes.

That deep breath I had just drawn passed through my lips all at once. I said the wrong thing. There is nothing worse than when the truth— the full and absolute truth that rings in the deepest part of your heart— is the wrong thing to say. How can anyone regret telling the truth? How can anybody want to snatch the truth out of the air once it has been released?

"O-okay."

My stutter did not pass unnoticed despite my efforts to hide it with a smile. Taemin sat back by my side, took my face into his warm hands, and pecked at my lips. The kiss was over before I even realized it was happening.

"I love you, baby," Taemin promised. I swooned less at the affirmation of what I already knew and more at the variation of his name for me. He tucked some hair behind my ear. "Go down to dinner, and I'll talk to you later."

Rising to my feet in time with him, I said, "I love you too. Forever, Taemin."

Because I didn't want to watch him scramble out of the window, because I was at great risk of begging him to stay for dinner with Mom and Donghae and Heechul and Lucas— my family— to once and for all drag our remaining secrets into the light, I walked away. From the vanity, I grabbed the old photograph that I had yet to return to Donghae. I don't think I closed the door behind me on my way out of the room.

I tiptoed down the stairs, quietly hoping that Taemin would follow. Or maybe I was hoping that I would return from dinner to find him waiting on my bed with open arms. In the end, I was disappointed, but I didn't feel like a fool for daring to hope.

. . .

It turned out that Lucas's description of the rivalry between Donghae and Heechul was not all that dramatized.

Sandwiched between the two men at the dining room table, Mom looked nothing like the fairytale queen I imagined she would become in her happy ending. The squabbling must have gotten under her skin, etched those lines into her forehead, weighed down on the corners of her lips, and sharpened the glare she hurled at Heechul for a (probably offensive) comment that I hadn't heard over my thoughts as I reached the foot of the stairs.

"Lei!" Lucas cheered, pumping two fists into the air, because he was no longer alone with the adults. "Where've ya been?"

I couldn't narrow or roll my eyes at Lucas. He had no way to know that I had been kissing Taemin all day. He didn't have any clue that Mom just walked in on the most intimate moment of my life.

Blushing slightly under everybody's stare— smiling only because Moms smiled first and reminded me that everything was okay— I hummed, "I was just counting the stars."

As I sat in the seat next to Lucas and across from Donghae, I sat the picture frame onto the table. I met Donghae's gentle gaze and nodded. "I believe this belongs to you."

"I believe it does!" Donghae beamed and took the photograph into his hands. "Is this a new frame?" He asked as his thumb traced along the infinity symbol.

"Yep!" I omitted the fact that I had broken the original frame on that night I peeled his poster off the wall. "I— I hope you like it." I would have bashfully dropped my gaze onto the table if Donghae were the kind of person anyone could look away from. He looks right through the soul, you know, and I was finally comfortable with that.

While he untied one of the white threads around his wrist, Donghae swore, "I love it, Lei!" He motioned for me to hold out my wrist.

I watched, smiling, as Donghae knotted the infinity bracelet for me. All I could think about was my ribbon around Taemin's wrist. All I could think was that Donghae's thread bracelet was a ribbon too. We were tied together. Soulmates. Forever.

Then, my eyes were drawn to his red thread ribbon. Mom wore-- wears— one identical to that. They were tied together too. Soulmates. Forever.

So don't fault me for disagreeing with Taemin's belief that everything was falling apart with Mom's discovery of our kiss. It was clear for anybody to see (if they knew where to look) that happiness wasn't contingent upon the idea that everything will be okay. Everything was okay. Everything is okay. Happiness had arrived.

Except it wasn't happiness. The warmth spreading through my chest and painting life-- which had gone from dull shades of gray to pale hues with Lucas to sporadic brilliant bursts of color in the night with Taemin— was named joy. I read once that joy is forever, and I believed it then, and I believe it still. So, for the first time in a long time, as I looked at Donghae and Donghae looked back at me, I was not afraid for the sun to rise. I was not anxious because the sun had risen.

"It's not fair!" Heechul shrieked, pounding his fists on the table. "I practically live here, and the girl still favors Donghae!" Staring at me so intently that I thought his eyes might pop out of his head, Heechul demanded, "How come we never exchange gifts at the table, huh? I've been crashing on that couch for however many years, and you've never given me so much as a high-five!"

I raised my hands in total sincere surrender. "Look, I'm not picking favorites. I love you both. And if you start getting annoying and demanding me to pick favorites-- well-- let's not get into this again."

Donghae pouted into his glass of water. "You mean Yesung is still your favorite?"

And Heechul groaned at the ceiling, "Why am I not surprised?"

And Lucas chirped, "You gotta love Lei's unfailing loyalty!"

As I started forking through my dinner-- a salad because a.) my mouth was entirely too sensitive to the spicy noodles everyone else could slurp without watering in the eyes, and b.) I was trying yet another diet-- Mom caught my eye. She was watching me, smiling knowingly, determined to see me blush.

Uninterested in attracting any of the boys' attention, I subtly raised my eyebrows, trusting that Mom wouldn't say anything to expose my intimate information.

"You're not busy tomorrow are you?" I swear, she winked at me and I almost choked. "I was hoping that you could meet with me tomorrow. Nothing too serious, just a quick check-in on that project you've been working on."

Obviously, there was no project. Mom was just trying to tease me a bit and ensure that I made time to tell her about the events that led to the kiss that took our breath away.

Donghae and Heechul didn't know any of that, though, and they started pestering me about the project— "Is it a new song?" Heechul asked, and Donghae guessed, "Is the agency letting you write a ballad?"— while Lucas watched me through eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Would you two hush?" Mom hissed at Donghae and Heechul. "Just let Lei keep her secrets for now!"

Mom and I laughed together and the others looked at us like we were crazy. That's okay, though. I didn't mind their stares. I was too happy that Mom saw me; I was too happy that there would be no more secrets between us come tomorrow morning. If I had it my way, I decided, there would never be another secret between us for the rest of our lives.

"I always have time for you," I told her through a grin. "Just name the hour, and I'll drop everything for you."

I had until 9 o'clock in the morning to decide what I wanted to tell Mom. Once I walked into my bedroom, I flipped on the overhead light, nabbed an empty moleskine notebook from the bookshelf, and sat at the desk I hadn't used since the long past poetry-writing days. Having grown significantly since then, I had to pull that little lever that lowers the rolling office chair.

Several of the pens that I dug out of the top drawer had gone dry, but I finally found one-- a dark almost-black blue-- that worked. I used it to map out the constellations, everything that happened before the kiss. Debuting with SuperM, giving Taemin my ribbon, the first game of Truth or Dare, crying that night in the garden, falling asleep with Taemin every night in America, the NCT Dream VLive incident, the Great Come Apart in Grandma's dining room, the roller coaster that was the Christmas party, visiting the wishing fountain where Baekhyun gave me a flower crown, kissing Taemin throughout New Year's Night and into New Year's Day.

I poured all of myself into that story, this story. On these pages, you can find me: my fears, my dreams, my hopes. I hope you love me as much as I love you. I know you do, Mom. I know you do.

By the time I lay me down to sleep, it is 4 O'Clock in the morning. Now, I wait for the sun to rise so I can share everything.

[punkscowardschampions]

Caleb & Janis

Caleb: quantos dos meus telefonemas você não vai responder? Janis: 🤔 Caleb: me diga que você está segura e eu vou parar de ligar para você, é fácil Janis: you think if I was in mild peril, I'd find the time to send you an emoji Caleb: knowing you, yeah Janis: proving once again how little you know me, father Caleb: none of this is funny or clever, do you know that? Janis: 💔 Janis: as long as it is, that was the deal was it Janis: try harder from here on out, I assure you Caleb: you are breaking your mother's heart so I wish you would Janis: 🙄 Caleb: this is what I mean Caleb: how is that a response to what I just said Janis: how's, 'even if that were true, I don't care', work for you then Caleb: it doesn't work Caleb: none of this works Janis: that's unfortunate for you Janis: probably should've listened before hitting 10 though Caleb: we aren't talking about my failings we're talking about you running away again Janis: same diff, eh padre Caleb: no Caleb: you chose to do this Caleb: & every response you've given me since then Janis: what we all choose, in the end Janis: better than what you're offering Caleb: what would you like me to do differently? Caleb: I could listen to your grandmother & send you to Brazil or you could give me an answer to a question Janis: ha, go on then Janis: why not form a panel of failed parents Janis: maybe you'll get it down for your grandkids, eh Caleb: I've made mistakes and I'm trying to learn from them Caleb: that's all I'm trying to get you to do Janis: fat lot of good that does her Janis: or any of us Janis: so no, you're alright Caleb: I did everything I could for her Caleb: & all of you Janis: well it's not good enough Janis: is it Caleb: I know that Janis: then fuck off Janis: I don't need or want your failed attempts Janis: or hers Caleb: I'm still your dad Caleb: so I can't Caleb: & I didn't when she wanted me to either Janis: yeah that pat on the back is well deserved Caleb: this anger isn't going to fuel you forever Caleb: it also can't Janis: watch me Janis: you reckon either of you is owed any forgiveness Janis: nah Janis: not from me Caleb: I'm not asking for your forgiveness Caleb: I'm asking you to stop putting yourself into unsafe situations Janis: send me Brazil then Janis: how long 'fore I'm dead in some favela Janis: 👍 class parenting, send 'em off, let them be fucked up out of sight Caleb: I'm doing my best Caleb: that's all I've ever done Janis: and what Janis: I don't owe you shit in return Janis: that's bare minimum and you fucked that up Caleb: I'm sorry Caleb: but you being right about what a bad dad I am doesn't mean you know everything or you can do as you please Caleb: the bare minimum you're meant to do is tell us where you are Janis: why, so you can do fuck all about it Janis: in a crack house be home when I need funds Caleb: because you're a child Caleb: maybe when you aren't you'll be bothered that your words have consequences Janis: never concerned you before Janis: 🤞 for you Caleb: it concerns me constantly Janis: what a drag Janis: probably shouldn't have had the kids Caleb: it's what I signed up for when I did have you all Janis: stop complaining to me then? Janis: love that new approach though Janis: guilt your kids for being born Caleb: you believe this is me complaining? Caleb: if you feel guilty because I care about you, you shouldn't Janis: I believe it annoys me all the same Janis: whatever this Janis: new failed attempt is Caleb: everything I do annoys you Caleb: you want me to hold onto that? Janis: whatever works for you Janis: I couldn't care less Caleb: the more you say it, the less power it has Janis: 💔 Janis: backatcha, man Caleb: just tell me or your ma where you are Janis: why Caleb: I've told you why Janis: no you haven't Janis: as per Janis: lots of chatting, saying fuck all Caleb: you're a child & it's the least we ask of you Janis: ha Janis: no then Caleb: so be it Caleb: I'll come looking for you then Janis: your idea of a hobby, not mine Janis: not like you're any good at it so excuse me for not trembling in my boots Caleb: that isn't the reaction I want Caleb: so it's all good with me when you don't Janis: well isn't that lovely Janis: so chill and so cool, phased by nothing Janis: amazed you could muster the energy to cry at her funeral Caleb: she was my daughter & I miss her every day Caleb: I hope being deliberately hurtful makes you feel better about things Janis: 👍 Janis: convincing Janis: so easy to miss, isn't it Janis: much easier than parenting Caleb: I did everything I could for her Caleb: I've already told you that Caleb: I'm sorry that isn't convincing you but it's the truth Janis: I'm sure you did Janis: like I said, fat lot of good it was Janis: doesn't matter how hard you tried, you failed Janis: get over it Caleb: yeah, I did fail Caleb: I'll never get over that Janis: yeah, again Janis: easy this bit Caleb: no, it isn't Janis: that's fucking tragic Janis: 😂 Caleb: You know where I am when you're ready to come home Caleb: Unless I find you before then Caleb: Please let your boyfriend know his dad has been to ours looking for him Janis: Whatever Janis: I don't plan on talking to you when I have to come back Caleb: you never plan on talking to me Caleb: talk to your mother Janis: ha, fuck off Janis: I'd sooner die Caleb: She'd love to hear you say that Janis: pass the message on if you're so inclined Caleb: I won't Janis: she'll have to stay 💔 then won't she Caleb: it appears so, yeah Caleb: that much is true of all of us Janis: awh, sad times Janis: sure there's someone 'round who don't know enough about you all yet Janis: get that last dose of sympathy Caleb: how little you think of me Caleb: I obviously should send you to spend some time with your grandmother, you'd be in good company Janis: glad you're catching on Janis: 'cept you lack the ability to send me anywhere Caleb: it isn't an illusive thread, Janis Caleb: you speak up loud & clear Caleb: I lack the ability to keep you here either, so what do I have to lose Janis: someone has to Janis: and only another kid Janis: not like that seems to bother you Janis: plenty more, oh wait, not really these days Caleb: if only you were educated on what you were speaking so loudly about Caleb: it doesn't seem to bother me because you don't wish to see that Janis: you're not the failed child prodigy, that shit ain't gonna fly Janis: but go off if you wanna bring up this families inability to communicate as if that ain't on you too 😂 Caleb: I'm here now trying to communicate with you Janis: where? Caleb: all you want to do is discuss how much of a failure I am as if it's never possible to do better Janis: and all you're doing is trying to tell me what to do Janis: too late, on both counts Janis: you're only doing that because school and Jimmys's dad are onto you Caleb: I'm doing it because I care about you & I'm worried Caleb: It hasn't been that long since the last time you left Caleb: I'm telling you to come home because it's not too late for you Caleb: nothing bad has happened Caleb: but you can't keep doing this & expecting that it won't Janis: oh so 'cos I'm not on hard drugs, I've got nothing to complain about Janis: ha Janis: A+ as usual Caleb: You can complain about anything you want, running away isn't the way to lodge it Caleb: It won't solve anything Janis: neither will you Janis: I have no interest telling you anything Janis: you've said it yourself and I knew it before you did Janis: you're useless Caleb: you don't have to tell me Caleb: there's plenty of people you can talk to Janis: no, there isn't Janis: the only person I can talk to is here Janis: so you see, I don't need you Janis: any of you Caleb: we still need you Caleb: you're still a part of this family Caleb: you always will be Caleb: you can't run from that Janis: life's unfair, ain't it Janis: give her more to cry about Caleb: life is what you make it Caleb: & we'll all be with you wherever you go Janis: sure, hippie Janis: then why'd you choose to make such a mess of yours? Caleb: I made mistakes Caleb: your dad is human, sorry you ever had to learn that, but that's the way it is Janis: I've never thought of you as anything more, don't flatter yourself Janis: 9 of 'em, right Janis: 10 if you count ma, 11 if you count getting back with her Janis: how much bad karma is that 🤔 Caleb: none of those things are what I'm counting as my mistakes Caleb: & I know what you think of me Caleb: like I said, you make yourself very clear Janis: you should try it Janis: people might respect you more Caleb: I've got enough bad karma coming my way without being hurtful for the sake of it Janis: 💔 Caleb: my heart's already broken so I won't worry about who may or may not respect me Janis: if you were worried, about anything, but respect specifically, then we wouldn't be here Caleb: if we're going to talk about possible what ifs that could have avoided us being here, I'll need to sit down & get more comfortable Janis: hardly Janis: it's simple Janis: if Edie had respected you as any kind of a father figure, she wouldn't have had to do what she did Janis: or, even easier, if Drew had of respected you as a person, he wouldn't have knocked up your missus Janis: crisis truly adverted Janis: but no Caleb: and now you don't & you're going to keep doing this Janis: this has nothing to do with you Janis: again, don't flatter yourself Caleb: if you say so Caleb: I love you Caleb: be safe Janis: are you serious Janis: you think you're remotely on my radar Caleb: apparently not Janis: you're so Janis: passive Janis: you may as well not be there Caleb: we can't both be aggressive Janis: you're incapable Caleb: no, I not Caleb: I choose not Janis: it's pathetic Janis: do you know what it's like to have a dad who you know couldn't stand up for you Caleb: I didn't have a dad so yeah Janis: better than a useless one Caleb: that's what you think Caleb: I would have preferred one who tried & was there Janis: well, this isn't about you Janis: shocking, I know Janis: if you weren't here, then she wouldn't have anything to complain about Janis: and you wouldn't get to harp on about how hard you tried as if you're fooling any of us Janis: we were there Janis: you did fuck all Caleb: you were there so you know that's not true Caleb: it's what you want to believe so you can blame me for what happened Janis: it is your fault Janis: and hers Janis: you don't get to exempt yourself 'cos he looks worse on paper Janis: you did nothing, nothing of use, you never have Caleb: it was an accident, it wasn't anyone's fault that she died Caleb: & everything can came before, what does blame even matter, it's not going to change anything or fix it Caleb: you can put it on me or your mother or Drew or Edie herself Caleb: it's not that simple & it's not going to make you feel any better Janis: oh that's nice for you Janis: who cares who's to blame Janis: she's only dead Janis: we'll all live and let live, can't change the past Janis: bullshit Janis: you're the one without a fucking clue Janis: it's not about me feeling better, it's about all of you feeling as bad as you should Janis: but you never fucking will so fuck the lot of you Caleb: nothing you've said or done can make me feel any worse Caleb: there's no worse pain than this, her death Caleb: you don't have a clue if you think otherwise Caleb: but we do all still have to live, somehow Caleb: so holding onto all of this is what's bullshit Caleb: you have to let it go, one day, you'll need to Janis: wow, great inspirational speech Janis: what parenting book did you rip that from Janis: you let go before she was gone Janis: that's facts Janis: I don't have to do jackshit you say Caleb: I never let go for a second Caleb: & I won't of you Caleb: so like I said, I love you, be safe Caleb: there's nothing more to say Janis: drop dead Caleb: one day Janis: helpful as always Caleb: I can only help you if you let me Janis: no, you can help me by dropping dead Caleb: that wouldn't help Janis: it would Caleb: how? Janis: wouldn't have to deal with you Janis: and what use are you alive Janis: we've already established you ain't Janis: mean of income, at best Caleb: there'd be someone to take my place though Caleb: you're not free simply because you're free of me Caleb: people still care Janis: know she's got history but bit low Janis: give yourself some credit Janis: she lasted this long without cheating on you Janis: again Caleb: don't talk about your ma like that Caleb: you weren't there for any of that & since you only believe what you want to for the things you witnessed Caleb: there's no room for you to speak on this Janis: say what I want Janis: especially as it's true Janis: know what they say, how you get 'em is how you'll lose 'em Caleb: I don't have to be here to listen to you Janis: ha Janis: then fuck off Janis: go on Janis: you can pretend you've been a parent Caleb: tchau 💚 Caleb: come home soon for your own sake Caleb: you should be in school Janis: tell me, how many of your children finished school? Janis: 😂 Janis: you're a fucking joke Caleb: have a good laugh & I'll see you soon Janis: no, you won't Caleb: how many times have I heard that from you? Caleb: as many as you've done this Caleb: if this is the exception, I'll believe it when it happens Janis: wow, so mature Janis: mock me for not ending up dead Janis: A++ Janis: this is why we all come to you Caleb: I'm acknowledging that you're a child with no means of supporting yourself & nowhere to go Caleb: that's what I mean when I say I know you'll be back home Caleb: everything is life or death with you Janis: love that Janis: hold that over us with the guilt of being born Janis: real old school Janis: because it is, and don't fucking challenge me, you'll be the only one to regret it Caleb: I'm holding nothing over you, you're weighing yourself down because you want to believe that's what I'm doing or saying Caleb: there's no challenge being issued either, I have no desire to see you prove anything of the sort Janis: no, what I want, is for you to fuck off Janis: you're a cunt, regardless of what I want or need Caleb: so let me go Caleb: I've said goodbye twice Janis: who's stopping you Janis: not me Janis: you're the one out here trying to best a 'child' by your own admission Janis: you self-righteous loser Caleb: you keep talking Caleb: so it is you Janis: to tell you to die Janis: it's not an invitation for conversation Janis: you are that desperate but come on Caleb: yeah it is Caleb: if you didn't want to keep this going, you'd stop Janis: no, I want you to know how much I hate you Janis: you're under the illusion you deserve sympathy Janis: and you need to know you deserve this, and everything else you've got Caleb: I knew all of that before this conversation began Janis: bye then Janis: ✌ Caleb: 💚

[platinumshawnn]

goodbye home, sweet, home | s. mendes

Summary: Shawn and Eva finally meet face to face for the first time since their split to say their goodbyes to the place they once called home, reflecting on the memories of their time together.

A/N: I've been in a Shawn writing block phase but I found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up and post it while i work on 3 requests and a part for my Jack lowden mini series so!!! Just a note also that I based this a few years ahead to when Shawn is 21/22.

Word count: 1,290

“There's one last box and then it's all good to go. Yeah.” Shawn murmured into the phone as his eyes downcast to the final box that was pressed up against the wall, waiting to be taken away. It had been the last one he wanted to touch, having procrastinated for days about it, unsure if he was entirely ready to let go of the place he once called home.

The time on his phone told him it was just past 3AM, the city outside still buzzing with life as people streamed out of clubs into the streets, drunk and bubbling with conversation; stumbling out of clubs. The noise of nightlife.

It was the fact that this apartment was surrounded by clubs and was right smack dab in middle of everything that almost prevented the move in, but it had only taken him two days to get her to say yes as they sat on her sister's couch. The TV had been on playing some old movie neither of them knew, their attention anywhere but on it as it played as a background sound. He had the pictures pulled up on his phone while she lied across his lap, head tilted so she could see as he scrolled through the images; silent as she squinted, considering his words very carefully and weighing every option they currently had.

"It doesn't even have to be a forever thing, we’re not staying there the rest of our lives, it's just for now. We’re young, right? And then when we get a little older and there's little ones around…” He drifted, using his fingers to mimic the idea of feet running around; reaching up to gently tap her upper lip as she let out a laugh. “we’ll move. This is perfect for now.”

Her eyes lifted to look at him, seeing the hopeful look in his eyes as he waited for a response which earned a sigh and a soft, “Okay, okay, it's perfect. You got me.” She said, defeated, his grin widening in turn.

“You sold the apartment.” Eva piped up from behind him, his head whipping around to find her in the open door that he had intentionally left open to make moving the boxes from apartment-to-truck easier, stood there with her arms folded over her chest and red nosed from the cold, his eyes immediately landing on the ring snug around her fourth finger on her left hand. His eyes lingered there a moment too long while the voice of his realtor on the other end of his phone continued to run down a list of things that he could hardly focus on, his mouth suddenly dry as he muttered a quiet ‘sorry’ into his phone, explaining quickly that he would call back later before he hung up; hardly waiting for a response. He then let out a choked laughing sound before clearing his throat.

“Yeah, it took a while but...it’s official.” He explained. “The new tenants move in next Wednesday, I just have to get them the property paperwork.”

He watched as she smiled slightly, although this one was the type that didn't reach her eyes as she nodded, slowly scanning around the empty room that had once been the living room they had shared for a little over a year. Shawn had no idea what to say, part of him not wanting to disturb her as she seemed to be lost in thought while she gave the room one last look.

“I never understood what drew you to this place.” She confessed quietly. He swallowed and looked around for himself.

With a slow shrug of his shoulders, he answered, “It’s small, comfy, not suffocating but comfy. And the noise I guess. I hate silence, I made a habit looking for places to be where there was noise so I didn't feel lonely. So it didn't feel like it was just me, if that makes any sense.” He tried to explain, inhaling deeply. “I hate being left on my own to think too much.”

“And does it ever work?” She asked, her eyes turning to look at the notches in the doorway to the kitchen, a joke they had started after she had made a comment that it felt like he was still growing even as a grown adult man -- certain he would never stop. She had started it to prove that he was still growing, keeping track of his height and checking every other month. And sure enough he did. She looked back at him. “Being around noise?”

He breathed out a dry laugh, “Sometimes. Not all the time unfortunately. But I still try. Even though I know it hardly works. I still feel alone.”

She let out a soft huff that imitated a laugh, but it seemed strained as she then cleared her throat. “I got your message, I just figured...I’d stop by, pick my stuff up myself instead of burdening you to drop it off.” She explained, waving to the last box still sitting there.

Rather quickly, he shook his head, bending to pick it up, “It’s not a burden, don't- don't even worry. You're never a burden.” He rambled nervously, cursing to himself as the words seemed to come out without even thinking first, coming out wrong. “I mean, doing this for you wouldn't have been a problem -- like…”

“Don't worry, I got you.” She softly assured, the two awkwardly standing there looking at one another in the minute of silence that followed, unsure what else to say. Shawn glanced down at the box that he had written an E on, looking up at her and taking a couple steps forward to hold it out towards the brunette who pushed a lock of hair behind her right ear before she moved forward to meet him.

“Here, should probably...give you this.” He drifted, carefully passing the box off to her, her hands skimming his as she took it, causing him to tense and hold his breath until she backed up, putting space between them once again. He had figured she would take the box and leave immediately but instead, she propped the knee on her knee as she bent her leg slightly, opening the top of the box and glance in, one arm still holding the box while the other hand reached in to push through its contents a bit. When her hand lifted out, she held a necklace that had his old ring around the chain, eyes glancing to the piece of jewelry that she seemed to give too much attention to before holding it out in the palm of her hand.

“You should probably keep this.” She stated quietly. Shawn stood there, hesitating before he reached out to gather it from her hand and looked at it, raising an eyebrow while peeking up at her.

“You sure? You can keep it, it might not fit anymore, my hands I think have grown a bit.” He said, the comment bringing a smile to her angelic face.

“No, it's alright. I don't think I should…” She drifted, picking the box up again and backing up towards the door before she turned, stopping halfway out the door to look at him, “Thanks, Shawn. I'll see you around.”

He nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek as his hands lowered to his sides, necklace still in his hand. “Yeah,” He shortly replied. “I’m sorry.” He quickly added before she was entirely out the door, her mouth opening with a stutter, her expression surprised as she inhaled, sighing the breath out after a moment.

“I'm sorry too.” she quietly stated before leaving, not bothering to even look back again as she left with her box in her arms.