#beyond surface level for YEARS but once i did it's like. oh no. oh yeah he's kinda fucked up from it a little actually

[kxllerblond]

the 'clark has father issues' development over the years has been catastrophic

#man went from like 'Yeah Im super unbothered by that idiot B)' to like #no. no you have attachment and abandonment issues because of that fucker #and ur constantly scared of becoming this man you never even knew #hate to see it tbh but not surprised lmAO. #long term ocs are so cool tho because like you dont really have this stuff go down until you start fleshing #aspects of a muse out you hadnt initially. like clark and his feelings towards his father were never something i put much thought into #beyond surface level for YEARS but once i did it's like. oh no. oh yeah he's kinda fucked up from it a little actually

[biblicallyaccuratebeskar]

Metal Home

Read Chapter 8 Here

Also on AO3

Chapter 9/22: ~2K words

Unfiltered

Mando was purposefully vague about or brief “vacation.” Karga was curious, naturally, but luckily respected our privacy.

I healed well. The bacta was a miracle, even if it did feel like fucking molten lava. In a day or so I was up and moving again, almost like nothing happened.

The wound had apparently left behind a scar. It was out of my line of vision and I didn’t mind, really. I’d never minded scars as long as they had a story attached. Mando hated it though and I didn’t know why. Once I felt his gloved finger linger on it a second too long after applying more bacta. Maybe I just imagined that part, but it gave me chills nevertheless.

We’d been staying on the tiny moon Reius because of its low population and general level of boring compared to some of the other places we’d been to. Breaking through the atmosphere when we first arrived, the view took my breath away. Rolling hills of blindingly green foliage cut into pieces by rushing rivers that carved through the surface everywhere you’d look.

I loved being there. The air was crisp and cool and smelled of trees and soil. The vacation was a farce, but I could at least pretend, right?

Mando usually approached everything with neutral confidence, but since I got hurt it was like he was walking on an icy lake, trying not to fall through. I always felt his eyes on me wherever I went, never letting me stray too far from the ship.

I didn’t like feeling like I was a liability, like I was breakable. But, I admittedly found amusement in his attentiveness. After years on my own it felt a little nice to be taken care of.

One afternoon we were sitting in the hull, where I was helping him clean some of his blasters. I had no idea how much upkeep they required, all the polishing and reloading. Well, maybe that was just him and his tastes. I happily played along.

I was just finishing the barrel of his pulse rifle when there was a knock on the hull door.

We both jumped to our feet in surprise. He drew the blaster he wasn’t cleaning and slowly crept towards the noise.

“You stay here. I’ll take care of this.”

I drew my blaster and followed him, of course.

We opened the hull, backs flush with the sides of the door, ready to pounce, when I saw who was standing outside.

It was a tiny old woman. “Hello? Is anybody there?” she called out. I motioned for Mando to withdraw his blaster. He didn’t listen. I huffed as I put mine in the holster and walked out to greet her.

“What are you-Larkin!”

“Hi there, everything alright?” I asked, trying to angle my arms to cover the blaster on my belt.

“Ah, yes! Hello! Were you the one I saw tinkering on this ship?”

“I am,” I responded cautiously. It was true. I’d started updating the gas line underneath the cockpit that morning, but why she was interested in that was beyond me.

“Oh, good! I live in a town three or so klicks east of here. I saw your ship fly overhead a few days ago and I knew I needed to find you. You see, we have a water filter and it’s been broken for nearly a month now. There’s a reservoir, but we’re beginning to run low and I can’t help but fear the worst. I’m afraid we do not have the tools to fix it. Would you be willing to come help? We have some credits.”

“Our services aren’t for sale,” Mando announced, emerging from his hiding spot. The woman’s eyes widened and she took a few wobbly steps backward. Living with him and knowing who he was, I sometimes forgot how intimidating Mando could be to strangers. And right then, he was definitely turning the whole fierce Mandalorian facade up a few notches.

My jaw clenched. “Can we talk?” I said as I grabbed his arm and dragged him into the hull.

“One second!” I called, giving her an apologetic smile as the door closed.

“What the hell?” I hissed, letting go of his arm. “She seems harmless, why are you being so weird about it?”

“We aren’t mechanics for hire. And we shouldn’t trust just anyone.” “Oh yeah, because you should never trust sweet old women. I’m going to help her, whether you’re coming or not. It’ll probably be an easy fix.”

Now he grabbed my arm. “You’re not going alone for a handful of credits.”

I shook him off. “You know I’m not going for the credits.”

He sighed, turning away from me.

“I’m going, Mando. I know you’re worried about me, so then come with. I trust myself more when you’re around.”

He thought for a moment, pacing back and forth, boots clunking on the floor.

“Fine,” he finally muttered.

I bit back a smile and nodded as I ran to grab my tool kit.

——

The woman, who introduced herself as Pira, took us to her village on a gondola she expertly maneuvered through brush and over streams and rivers. She seemed kindly, her white, fine hair blowing in the wind as she explained how she was the matriarch of her people. In the early days of the Empire, a mining facility had been built upstream from her village, polluting their water supply. The young people who went to work there during the day, given no other choice in the new economy, managed to pilfer enough parts to build a filter with what they learned engineering in the plant. Five years after the mine was built, there was an accident, an explosion she said, and no one came home. The Empire left the ruin they created, dissatisfied with their failed venture, and Reius had been quiet ever since.

The filter had persisted through all these years, still required as the creation of the mine had torn a hole through the earth, leaking chemicals into the water supply. But now, since it broke, they were getting desperate. We were their last chance.

When we approached the village, the people slowly crept out of their homes to see us. Some grimaced, others smiled and waved. Children looked at us with wide eyes from behind their mothers’ legs.

I took a moment to look around the village, finding it to be beautiful. The homes were to be made of sediment from the riverbeds, adorned with greenery and flowers. It seemed as if they’d emerged from the earth itself. As the sun went down, lanterns flickered to life in every direction, casting everything in gold.

Pira led us just beyond the village to a small stream, no wider than my bed. There was a metal box there, sputtering and choking out water from the other side. I could smell the chemicals.

Luckily, I was right. It was an easy fix, just like realigning the coolant in a ship. Mando stayed right by my side keeping watch as I worked (I nicely asked him to put the blaster away when there were no imminent threats). He held a light so I could see as the woods grew dark.

When I was done we went to find Pira. She was in the main square of the village in front of a large fire, surrounded by children, animatedly telling a story. Her expressions were heightened by the shadows cast by the flame, eyes bulging, hands waving. The kids were entranced, laughing and screaming at all the right parts.

I stopped just beyond the firelight’s reach to watch, leaning on Mando’s arm. It reminded me of when I was growing up. My mother was a fantastic storyteller, like Pira. She was an expert at doing the voices and movements, each character in my nightly bedtime stories rich, almost living and breathing. Tears unexpectedly sprung in my eyes as I thought of her. Mom cared so deeply about stories. Mine probably wasn’t what she imagined for me, but I hoped she’d still be proud.

I could tell Mando wasn’t looking towards Pira. He was looking at me. That happened every so often. I’d feel his gaze on me, even underneath the helmet. I always wanted to look back at him, but I would rather look into his eyes than a visor. I knew that was impossible to even think about, so I never looked.

Pira approached us as the crowd dispersed.

“All fixed. Just an issue with the piping. Nothing a good tool kit couldn’t help.” I said, handing over the box in my hands.

Her light eyebrows shot up. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly-“

“Please, I insist. I needed to update them anyway. If you ever have another problem, you’ll be able to fix it yourself then. Your village needs water.”

Suddenly I was wrapped in an enveloping hug. To my surprise, I hugged her back. She leaned back, cupping my face in her hand, the deep wrinkles in her face curving over smiling cheeks. “Thank you. My people thank you. Both of you,” she spoke, looking over at Mando. He stiffened, never good with compliments.

“You have no need to travel back to your ship in the dark. Come, I have an extra room you may stay in for the night.”

Mando somehow stiffened even more at that.

“Uh, that’s a very generous offer, but we’ll need to talk it through first if you don’t mind,” I responded.

She bowed her head. “Of course. If you do decide to stay I’m in the one just there,” she said, gesturing to one of the dwellings across the plaza, covered in vines. “If not, may the Maker watch over your journey.”

As she walked away, Mando said, “We shouldn’t stay.”

“Ok, but here me out. Reius is quiet, nearly remote now since the mining incident. And just look around you right now.”

The lanterns swayed in the breeze, casting light all around in golden wisps. The stars were infinite overhead from the lack of light pollution.

“We told Karga we’re on vacation,” I said slowly. “Just one night?” I gave him my most convincing smile, and it worked. Like always. ——

Pira was happy to see us. She led us to the spare room in the back of her home. It was modest, just a bed and a table. The door closed behind her after she said goodnight.

Just one bed. We stood there for a moment, frozen. It wasn’t like we didn’t sleep next to each other anyway, but we did sleep separately. It wasn’t a big deal. Not a big deal at all.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he blurted out.

“No, that’s stupid,” I shot back, mildly offended for no specific reason. “We can both sleep on the bed.”

“I’m not taking off my helmet. Or my armor.”

I figured as much. He never did when we were outside the Crest. “Ok. I’ll just be sleeping by a block of beskar, then. Nothing new.” He huffed a little at that.

“I’ll take first watch,” he said curtly.

“Mando, we’re not on a job. You can relax.”

I might as well have told the sun not to rise, but I tried anyways.

I laid down first, staring up at the ceiling. I felt him lay down next to me, but I didn’t look. It reminded me of the first night I slept next to him with the blindfold. The nerves, the tension, it was all the same.

“That can’t be comfortable,” I muttered.

“I’m used to it.”

“Ah.”

It was about as relaxing as a business meeting with Karga, neither of us knowing what or what not to do.

“I’m, uh...I’m going to sleep now,” I said after a long period of silence.

“Am I stopping you?”

“No! No. I just...I don’t know. Thought I’d announce it.” Maker, what the hell was I saying?

“Thank you for sharing.”

I sighed, covering my face to hide my smile. “Goodnight, Mando.”

Surprisingly, I slept well. He made the bed warm with his body heat, even underneath the armor.

When I woke up the next morning curled into his side, neither of us said anything. It was like an unspoken agreement. Unspoken words.

#metal home #din djarin #din djaren #din djarin fic #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x oc #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #mandalorian x oc #mandalorian x female oc #mandalorian slow burn #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fic #mandalorian x female reader

[advernia]

WHERE ARE YOU DIRECTING YOUR ENERGY?

ONE —

Bubbles. Up they go, float like balloons. Colored with muddied tints of blue, purple, white, black. Pop. Another goes, another shows. They are many in number the same time they could vanish all at once, large in size the same way they could become small. They don't touch him but they surround him, live bubble wrap made into a wall. Pop, pop. This wall was restless and tall, too high for anyone to see beyond, too slippery for anyone to climb upon. Blue drips black, purple drips black, white drips black, black drips black. Pop, pop, pop. Where the all the droplets land, no one knows. But they leave their stains, just like the falling rain. Jet black, coal black, pitch black, ink black. Pop, pop, pop, pop.

It's raining, but why does he feel so filthy?

TWO —

"You - hey, you! Yes you, you human child... why are you dragging that poor sword across the ground? Wazzat - you wish to be strong, you say? Ha! But your hands can barely hold the handle of that sword! Start with something your own size, small one!

Huh, who in the blazes - oh, you're that sword dragger from the woods... wait. What do you mean, you broke the wooden sword I lent you!? You punk, that was Lounsbery wood, you hear me!? Sturdy stuff a thing like you shouldn't be able to break! What? You broke it while sparring with a friend!? Hogwash! What in Wonderland is your friend, a dragon!? Sevens, child, don't answer so seriously!

Hmmph, here you are again, thought I nagged you off till next week. Now what do you wa... what you bowing down on the ground for!? Sorry for breaking the sword? And you made a new one!? Now that's absolute bulls - whoa! Watch where you're swinging that thing!

You sure love this part of the forest, dont'cha? Wazzat? Oh, 'cause it's a good training spot... got a point there, I guess. Gonna leave you to it, then... oh, hold up. Never asked why you wanna be strong for. Oh? You wanna serve the prince? As a Royal Guard? Even though you're small stuff and a human? Well, I'll be! You run your mouth pretty wide!

... My name? You've asked me for all sorts of swords for years and now you wanna ask my name? I don't know yours either, you say?! Damn right I don't! Now get that sword off my rack and don't ask again - the only name I'm waiting to hear is the name of Prince Malleus' future human guard!"

THREE —

A human village is littered with tall stones sticking out from lumps of disturbed earth. Every stone is sure to carry a name carved upon its surface, with messages sometimes added underneath. Loyal husband, beloved father. Fifteen years young, lost to the winds. Lovely daughter, proud warrior. One day we shall meet again.

The fae do not share the same level of reverence, the same level of respect the humans had for their fallen. Burying the dead deep under the ground, forming headstones or monuments for them to remember where the dead were laid, prayers and tears and flowers and more tears. The fae did nothing of the sort for their dead, save for the offering of flowers and the shedding of many tears.

But perhaps the humans did what they do was because they were fortunate enough to leave behind their bodies even as they passed on. While the humans let the earth carry their remains, the fae returned everything they were - flesh, blood, magic - to the earth.

And the skies, to the heavens - it is only to them shall every fae would speak their name. A name never to be known by history, a name never to be carved in ink and stone.

The general's smile turns wry.

Having a headstone doesn't sound so bad, though.

FOUR —

12:14 AM

「 u comin home on holiday right 」

「 u better be 」

12:14 AM

「 oooh~! 」

「 so scary! (∩︵∩) 」

「 but yeah kei 」

「 come home k? 」

「 we miss you! (´;︵;`) 」

12:17 AM

「 whats so scary about my msg 」

「 oh yeah dont disappear on us like last time 」

「 tell us if u plan to hang out with ur friend again 」

「 so we can work out a sched 」

「 we cant handle the groceries on our own yknow 」

12:21 AM

「 last years was 」

「 SUUUUUUPER heavy! ( ≧Д≦) 」

「 btw!!!! 」

「 mom plans to make this 」

「 for dessert soooo 」

「 blueberry-raspberry-mousse-cheesecake.png 」

「 we gonna need...................... 」

「 F R U I T!!!!!!!! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 」

「 dancing-fruit-basket.gif 」

「 fresh ones ofc so get ready for 」

「 morning market tour ( ᐛ )و 」

12:25 AM

「 youre the one who sucks at waking up at the morning tho 」

「 but there you go kei 」

「 tell us as soon as u arrive k 」

12:29 AM

「 (╬ Ò ‸ Ó) 」

「 meanie!!! 」

「 ill wake up before U ull see <(｀^´)> 」

「 ANYWAY! 」

「 see u soon kei!!!!!!!!! (‘∀’●)♡ 」

1: azul + cater reappears for this batch! here's everyone's context:

azul -> breathing (ongoing overblot)

silver -> purpose (pre-game + monologue, a fairy's doing it tho)

lilia -> in memoriam (pre-game, vague war timeline)

cater -> self-control

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #cater diamond #know how being caught under the rain is usually interpreted as something liberating or cleansing??? yeah #azul's reads like some horror piece and yeah i think that's fine... i think lmao #flashbacks of ob victims aside i wonder what's actually going on with them as their consciousness is taken over #there are many ways to go about the fae but for now have my heavily odin sphere inspired perception on fae death lmao #q&a

[punkgrogg]

Doorway Duo pt.3

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,074

Notes: Sorry I took so long! I had to split this update into several parts because I ended up typing out over 6,000 words so another part will be posted in a couple days hopefully I can fix my laptop by then.

Date Posted: 9/4/2021

“Share the heat,” Hoseok complained, tugging the blanket from my cocooned form.

October ‘s days were chilly but as soon as the sun set, it was freezing. I was propped up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and a king sized blanket tucked around me. Mom sat on the recliner to my left, the reason behind my assortment of pillows, and Hoseok was shoving his way into the occupied seat on my right. Well, my legs were occupying it.

“There’s a while couch right there ass hat.” I whined as he lifted my legs and placed them on his lap. This wasn’t so bad- he was warm- but the sibling bond between us made sure to complain.

“I don’t want to sit next to dad, he’s way too excited over the game.” Hobi pulled out his phone and scrolled aimlessly.

“When’s Namjoon gonna be here? His team is kicking ass.`` Dad was lively when it came to soccer. It was cute though and I loved how animated he’d get with each goal. But the kicker is that he and Namjoon rooted for other teams. Hobi, Jin, and I all sided with dad on the sports front but Joonie picked a shitty team that’s been coming up in the last couple of years. Maybe the heart attack he nearly gave dad ten years ago was worth it- if the pride in my dad’s eyes were anything to go by.

Joonie was our wild card, he seemed to pick the most difficult path just because he liked the challenge. He’d always do the opposite of what we expected, whether it was the sudden law school decision or boycotting Christmas one year. But today was probably the most surprising.

Jungkook apparently wasn’t a sports fan until this season started, my dad’s enthusiasm rubbed off onto him and now it was funny to see him white-knuckling a sprite over a bad call. Taehyung was taking a nap upstairs and mom was idly reading some seedy romance novel if the blush on her face was anything to go by. Well it was probably the shirtless man emblazoned on the cover that truly gave it away.

Hobi sighed and tossed his phone over onto the side table, he closed his eyes and melodramatically threw his arm over his face as he rested against the back of the loveseat. I rolled my eyes, “what’s it now buttercup?”

He huffed at my nickname, “Jimin isn’t responding.” He dropped his arm to pout at me as if I could help the situation at all.

“You know he’s probably working right now?” I nudged his arm with one of my feet.

His pout turned into a full blown frown as he made puppy eyes at me. “Yeah but that doesn’t mean i can’t miss him.”

“OH, so you’re going to finally admit that you’re dating him?” The delighted smile that ripped it’s way across my face made the frown completely fall off of his.

“Oh shit.”

His shock made me full bellied laugh, “Mom! Hobi finally sa-”

“Shut up! You tricked me!” he hissed as he covered my mouth, I smiled evilly as I licked the back of his hand to deter him.

“The baby.” Jungkook snapped, ripping Hobi's hand off my face. How did he manage to get across the room so quickly? Beyond me. There was a cloudy sort of anger in his face, one where he knew he shouldn’t be angry but couldn’t help it.

“Kookie, I'm fine.” I reached up to hold his wrist as he let go of Hobi's hand. He looked down on me tersely, his eyes colder than usual.

“Hoseok, how many times do your mother and I have to say to be gentler with your sister? You two are honestly getting too old for this.” Dad scolded, his hand on Hobi’s shoulder. I could see him curling into himself and suddenly I felt small.

“Dad, I'm okay, Hoseok and I were just playing. You know he’d never hurt me or the baby.`` I let go of Jungkook's wrist and tried to sit myself up more. It was hard this late into the pregnancy.

“You need to be more careful too, you’re way too rowdy these days.” he chastised me and I could feel the anger at being talked down to. I’m not a child anymore.

“No, this is my baby and my body, I get to decide when it’s too rowdy. We weren’t wrestling or fighting and I could easily breathe. We were doing nothing wrong, why are you acting like this?” My tone was cold and I forced myself up into a standing position. Jungkook stepped away from the couch so i could have enough room.

“y/n baby, you know i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-” i cut him off; i was fuming.

“Well you did. You basically said that either my big brother is going to hurt me or that I'm incapable of judging how much energy I can exert. We’re all adults in this room, why did you two have to intervene?” my glare turned to Jungkook, he hardened his gaze.

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“No more baby excuses,” I cut him off. “I know he’s fine, he’s twisting and kicking just as he’s always been.”

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“Stop Jungkook.” I held up a hand, the anger bubbling up to the surface. I needed to cool down before I lashed out. I could feel the heat coursing through my arms and filling my chest.

“No, Y/n he’s right I didn't notice it till you stood up but the baby’s hormones have gotten really strong all of a sudden.” Hoseok chimed in. still seated, he reached out and touched my stomach. Mom crossed the room and shoved her way through Jungkook and dad to kneel in front of my stomach, accessing my state.

“What? What does that mean?” I cradled my bump, the fear seeping into my words. He felt normal there, my doctor told me if anything were to feel wrong then to trust my instincts and immediately go to the hospital. But this was different, nothing felt wrong.

Taehyung thundered down the stairs, “Y/n? What’s going on down here? I can smell the stress from upstairs,” he took a backseat to the worry on my mind.

“Is something wrong with him? Nothing feels wrong.” I turned to Jungkook, the worry overpowering the shame of the argument we had just had. He was the first to notice so maybe he knew what was wrong.

“I was wrong, holy shit, we should make a doctor’s appointment.” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed, he jumped up and held me at arms length by the shoulders. He looked down to my stomach with a shocked expression.

“Honey, get the keys we’re going to the hospital.” mom barked out. I didn’t even notice her leaving the huddle but she was back at the recliner as she tugged on some tennis shoes.

“No! It's okay! The pheromones are showing that she’s okay too.” Jungkook finally spoke up, he threw an arm around me and pointed at the baby.

“She?” The confusion in my father’s voice was only a mirror to the rest of the room.

“Yeah, the pheromones got so strong because there’s two.” Hobi explained as he crossed the room and relieved mom of her purse. He placed a calming hand on her shoulders. Shoulders that seemed to be leveled with her ears with the abrupt stress.

“You mean twins? It's a bit late to find that out don’t you think?” she all but hissed at her third son. Mom was visibly anxious right now, something I had never seen before. She was usually so calm and cheerful around us.

“Mom, you’ve said it yourself, y/n is bigger than most pregnancies.”

“I mean yeah but we’ve gone to the doctor twenty times over the summer and I think he’d find another baby in there.” I chimed in, coming to mom’s other side. I think it helped with calming her down because her shoulders lowered a bit.

“I can smell both, I can smell her all of a sudden alongside him.” Taehyung wrapped his arms around me, his head burrowing into my shoulder. His grip on me was tighter than usual.

“But Tae that doesn’t make sense.” I turned in his grasp, facing the snow leopard hybrid, my disbelief written across my face.

“He’s had a very strong scent and a very strong heartbeat, maybe he just masked hers.” Jungkook stepped into my bubble once again. He was on the other side of Tae but seemed to block off any others from joining in the clique.

“But the ultrasounds only show one baby.” I reasoned out, my right hand reaching behind me to rest on my mother’s shoulder. Accepting there was a second was terrifying, I was barely holding myself together for the one pregnancy. Adding on another? Was I eating enough? Taking enough precautions? Maybe dad was right in intervening today.

“Back in the day they couldn’t find Seokjin’s penis and told us we’d be having a girl. It was a bit of a shock when he came out.” Dad. Of course, I've heard this story before, ultrasounds weren’t always perfect.

“What should i do?” I was scared and it was evident in the shake of my voice, Taehyung only hugged me harder.

“Hey guys, what's going on here?” Namjoon’s voice shattered the tension of the room. Seeing him and the dark haired male next to him gave me a chance to breathe.

Hoseok flitted across the room, his excitement at seeing our older brother evident in the wagging of his feather duster of a tail. “Joon, you're going to be an aunt and an uncle.”

“What?”

“Hobi that’s not how it works and you know it.” Mom chastised with a small shake of her head. Hoseok was a blessing to us all when tensions were high. “Who’s this?”

Namjoon seemed to freeze up a bit before throwing an arm around the guy hovering behind him a bit. Said man flushed lightly at the attention turning to him and in the soft light of the living room I could barely make out a pair of silky black ears atop his head. “This is Min Yoongi, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I sputtered out, breaking the moment of silence that enveloped the living room. I could see dad from my peripheral making his way to the doorway with a smile.

“Yeah, problem?” Joonie’s eyes were narrowed at me but eased up at the grin I was sporting.

Pulling away from Taehyung a bit, I sneered at Hobi. “Hoseok- he told us about his boyfriend before you could. How does that feel?”

Hoseok groaned before stomping over to me to grind out: “Oh my god you're annoying and technically i said it first.”

“But you didn’t tell mom and dad.” I taunted, the faux misery on my brother’s face would fuel me for months. Taehyung sat on the loveseat behind him and tugged at the hem of my shirt for me to join him.

“They’ve met Jimin before though and according to you i’m not subtle.” Hobi argued, his hand on his hip. Jungkook followed Tae and I down to the seat and I was wedged between the two with my legs in Kook’s lap. He gently rubbed circles into my swollen ankles as Hobi and I glared at each other.

“Anyway, what's this about me being an aunt now?” Joonie interrupted the stare down with Yoongi by his side, our parents must have finally let them out of their interrogation.

“These three are suddenly claiming I'm pregnant with twins.” I explained with a flick of my wrist, the stress of the situation (that was only a few minutes ago) seemed as if it were twelve years in the past.

“Um, I can smell two scents too.” Yoongi’s soft spoken words brought back the fear.

“Holy shit, mom! What am I supposed to do? Should we go to the hospital?” I tried to push myself up into a sitting position but Taehyung held me gently to his chest.

“The babies are happy, I don't think they’re in danger. “He hummed softly into my ear. I could feel the sincerity behind his words. He rubbed a hand up my arm gently and started to purr. An attempt to ease my anxiety.

“Danger or not- we still need to confirm if there are actually twins. That’s a nightmare in itself. That’s double of everything I was sort of ready for. Wait, what if I give birth prematurely- don’t twins come early?” there was panic rising in my chest.

“Mom and Dad went to their room, they’re recovering from the unexpected news but Y/n it’s going to be okay. We’ll go to the doctor’s tomorrow, together,” Hoseok reminded me, he softly ruffled my hair as he leaned down to kiss the top of my forehead. Still I looked around the room for my mother. The one who holds all the answers to my pregnancy fears. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi, all stood above us three, all showing a different expression. Namjoon looked apprehensive, which was normal for him. Hoseok looked as if he were trying to tame a wild animal. Yoongi thought he looked stunned, his eyes blown wide.

“Hobi you’re banned from my ultrasound appointments. You almost broke the equipment.” I reminded him with a forced smile. I could still feel the panic but it was ebbing away. I wasn’t dying, I was safe. The babies were safe. Everything will be okay.

“That’s so rude, I apologized and everything.” he crossed his arms, generously taking the bait. Knowing that Joonie would laugh at his expense.

“We’ll go with you, we haven’t been able to go since Hoseok has been.” Taehyung declared, way too happy for me to decline, and I smiled softly at him. I was held up against his torso, his head just a few inches above my own. He leaned down and rubbed his forehead against my own.

“You’re going to scent mark my sister in front of me?” Namjoon sputtered indignantly, causing Tae to freeze all of a sudden.

“Namjoon, that’s not scent marking.” Hoseok laughed and shoved at his shoulder playfully.

“Actually, we feline hybrids scent mark like that instead of that mess you canine hybrids do. I scent marked Namjoon earlier in the same way.” Yoongi crossed his arms and seemed to glare down at Tae. I was a bit shocked to say the least.

Hoseok had explained it to me when we were younger, scent marking was a hybrid instinct, and it had two different connotations. There was a familial way and a romantic way to cover another person in their pheromones. Hoseok would hug us and hold our hands growing up to rub just enough of himself on us to comfort himself that we were his family. Especially when we were younger and playing with larger groups of children or when there was a big event. The familial way would only last a few hours and was more of a comforting thing for family and very close friends to help with bonding.

Hoseok had explained the more romantic way was to imbue another’s scent for a much longer time and it was done by stimulation to the scent glands which meant that they would lick each other’s scent glands. He had been tomato red explaining this to me when he had found another hybrid’s scent on me that was much stronger than his own. When I explained that I was just playing with a hybrid at recess and they hugged me he seemed to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

Taehyung was staring up at Namjoon with an indecipherable expression. The massage on my ankles had stopped at Namjoon's exclamation and my glance at Jungkook showed him to be in the same emotionless stare down but instead he was staring down Yoongi. He knew too, but why hadn’t he told me?

“She’s part of our pack, of course I would scent her.” Taehyung had no emotions in his words, the monotonous response seemed to aggravate my brother.

“Wait,” I held my hand up to the seething man before turning to his boyfriend. “I’m confused. Hobi said that licking my neck would be romantic scent marking and hugging was familial scent marking. Which would this be?”

My question caused all four hybrids to freeze up, Hobi’s face once again lighting up in embarrassment.

“Uh, he said that? Well, uh, that’s wrong.” Yoongi forced out, his face turning a light shade of pink.

“Hybrids themselves decide what the type of scent marking it is when they release the pheromones, and there’s a lot of different meanings that could exist. Typically a more familial scenting would be a hug- so that part is right- but also kissing the top of your head could work. Licking your scent glands isn’t a romantic way for scent marking, it’s more sexual.” Yoongi's face almost matched Hoseok’s at this point. “Romantically speaking there’s a lot of ways you can scent someone- like rubbing your necks against each other which is common amongst the canine hybrids. For us feline hybrids we rub our faces against the person, like he had done to you. The pheromones typically let us know, but he’s not releasing heavy enough pheromones for us other hybrids to notice, but rubbing his face against yours is claiming you as his in feline standards.”

“Oh,” I could feel the hybrid underneath me tense up as Yoongi's explanation came to an end. I glanced up at him to see him still staring down my brothers.

“I’m still a little confused but thank you Yoongi. Namjoon, Hoseok, I’ll take it from here, I don't need you hovering over us for this conversation. In fact, I think I'll take this conversation elsewhere, you three have fun watching the game. Joonie, dad recorded this and last week’s matches for you.” I worked my way into a standing position with Taehyung’s help and made my way to the stairs, both Taehyung and Jungkook glued to my sides.

“It was really nice meeting you Yoongi,” I smiled at him and waved my goodbyes as I made my way up. We made our way into my room, the two hovering in the doorway. Just like I had met them. I took a deep breath and settled onto the bed.

#doorway duo #bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #hybrid!bts #hybrid hoseok #hybrid jungkook #hybrid taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #pt. 3

[ghostly-cabbage]

Party In The Graveyard (Shiptember 2021 : Drunk)

It’s a day late but heres the Danny x Wes fic I wrote for @ghostgothgeek ‘s Ship Event!! Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Language, Underage Drinking, Mild Suggestive Themes Additional Tags: Post-Reveal, Aged Up Characters, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Getting Together

Summary: So, here’s the thing; Wes never wanted to have a fucking house party, okay? This was all stupid Kyle’s stupid idea. Kyle isn’t even in highschool anymore. He graduated last year. But he invited his whole college freshmen class, and just about everyone from the senior Casper class. And it's just getting better and better. Why? Because about half an hour ago, Danny Fucking Fenton walked in.

--

Or a fic in which Wes sees Danny getting shitfaced and says, "Is anyone else gonna take care of him, or?" and then doesn't wait for an answer.

Words: 6,233

Ao3

“I take back all my poor words. Talk is cheap, but my mind is rich When I close my eyes You grab my wrist, And pull me in to your cold dead lips”

So, here’s the thing; Wes never wanted to have a fucking house party, okay? 

This was all stupid Kyle’s stupid idea. 

Kyle isn’t even in highschool anymore. He graduated last year. But he invited his whole college freshmen class, and just about everyone from the senior Casper class. 

And it's just getting better and better. 

Why?

Because about half an hour ago, Danny Fucking Fenton walked in. 

He walked in like he owned the goddamn place and the reaction went through everyone like a Whoop—like some kind of synchronized celebration of a miracle. 

What, just ‘cause everyone knows he’s Phantom now? 

Give him a fuckin’ break. 

Currently, Wes is standing adjacent to the fridge, nursing a god-awful drink Kyle shoved into his hands before disappearing back into the throng. 

Lighten up, bro, he’d said. 

Yeah. 

Sure. 

The music pounds through the house—a heart beat—a fucking jack-hammer. 

People talk and yell and spill their drinks on just about every surface that can stain. 

A cheer goes up from the dining room and he rolls his eyes. 

He slams his drink and focuses on the outdated calendar on the side of the fridge to keep from shuddering. It makes his mouth water, burns the whole way down and Jesus, seriously, what the fuck did Kyle put in this? 

He throws his cup at the overflowing trash can. 

His cheeks feel warm, but not even a buzz touches the wound up feeling in his chest. 

He passes through the dining room, stops to watch Danny and Dash shotgunning sixteen ounce Mike’s Harder cans. From the looks of the table, they've already gone a few rounds.

Danny finishes five whole seconds before Dash. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crushes his can. 

“Slowing down already, Baxter?” he says, a smug grin plastered across his face. His shoulders are slumped and he talks just a bit too loud.

Dash finishes his and tosses it over his shoulder, which—cool. Fucking nice, what, does he think they have a fucking maid? 

“In your dreams, Fenton. We're just getting warmed up. No way I'm getting out-drank by a twig like you, half-ghost or not.” 

“Guess we’ll see.” Danny shrugs. He talks like he’s one of those people, has always been one of those people. 

Wes rolls his eyes and is just about to slip out of the room when— 

“Ohhh shit! If it isn’t the one and only Wesley Weston!” 

Fucking hell. 

He turns and levels as unimpressed of a look as he can manage at Danny. 

“Imagine that. It’s almost like I fucking live here.” 

Danny swipes up a plastic cup and then proceeds to walk through the table towards him. People act like they’re finding out all over again. 

“Oh come on, Wes. You’re not still mad are you?” He comes up to him and slouches against the archway’s frame. 

Wes scrapes his tongue along his teeth. “Mad? What could I possibly be mad about?”

Danny looks at him like a puzzle. 

When he talks his voice is quiet, hard to hear over the music. “I dunno, the fact that you knew all along but no one ever listened? They thought you were crazy and you weren’t but no one's even said sorry?” His lips quirk up at the corner and Wes can smell the artificial black cherry dancing on the top of the alcohol in his breath. 

He wrinkles his nose and it has nothing to do with the smell. 

“I was being facetious, prick.” 

Danny smiles bigger, and his eyes glitter, something doe-eyed.  

“Right. So you are still mad?” 

He pushes air through his teeth. 

“Not like it matters,” he says, looking away from Danny, drifting over the room. “Where’s your chaperones? Weird to see you anywhere alone.” 

Danny just stares at him for a few seconds before understanding sparks. 

“Ah. Sam’s got a family thing. Tuck took a closing shift.” He waves a hand and his head lolls against the wall with a thunk. He lifts the cup to his lips and takes a swig. 

Everything about him looks heavy. It’s weird for Danny.  

“Have you tried the jungle juice your brother made?” he says. “It sucks. You’ve gotta try it.” 

Wes lifts a brow and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“How many’ve you had?” 

Danny looks down into his cup, swirls its contents. It’s silent for several seconds too long. 

“I’m not really sure, honestly. Didn’t know I was supposed to keep count.” 

Wes slides a hand down his face. 

Jesus Christ. 

“Listen, maybe you should slow down—”

“Yo! Fenton! Stop flirting with Wes and fucking get over here, we’re not done.” Dash calls across the room and— 

Flirting?! 

They weren’t fucking flirting. 

What the fuck.

Wes’s face heats up far beyond the liquor in his veins. 

Danny looks up and flashes Dash a thumbs up. And then Danny is even closer—grabbing his arm. The chill of his hand goes right through to his stomach. 

“Hey,” he breathes, “come watch me outdrink Dash.”

“Why would I wanna do that?” He ignores the way his breath flutters in his lungs, the way he feels light all the way to his toes.

Danny smiles like what he’s about to say is a secret—like it’s just for him, and all of a sudden Wes wants to be as far from Danny as humanly possible.

“Isn’t watching Dash lose at something for once reason enough?” 

Wes forces himself to keep breathing and he swallows. 

“Fine,” is all he can force out and then Danny is dragging him towards the table. He ignores all the people looking at them. 

The fragmented group of A-listers cheer again and Dash slams a bottle of Fireball onto the table, making people's drinks jump and slosh. 

“Let’s kick it up a notch, shall we?” he says, grin just shy of evil. 

“Where’d you get that?” Wes asks. 

Dash cocks a brow. “Paulina found it? Duh.” 

God, Kyle really wasn’t joking about getting people fucked up. 

Wes is not going to clean up anyone’s puke this time. This shit is all on Kyle. 

“Dude, is it even cold?” Danny asks. 

“No, it wasn’t in the freezer long enough,” Paulina says. She’s drinking from a champagne flute for some fucking reason. He didn’t even know they had those. 

“Gimme that,” Danny says, swiping it from Dash. “No way in hell I’m drinking warm whiskey.” 

His eyes glow blue, and when he breathes out its a thin vapor. Frost creeps over the glass and Wes can’t help but shiver.

“Dude, fucking wicked. I’m still not over this,” Dash breathes, clapping his hands together. 

How could Wes forget that Dash is Phantom’s number one fanboy after all?

But Danny isn’t looking at Dash—he’s looking at him. 

Only it’s different this time. Because before it was always a taunt, blatantly rubbing it in Wes’ face when he used his powers and no one else noticed.

But the way Danny is looking at him now… like he’s waiting for something, thinking about something.

Danny hands back the Fireball and his eyes slip away from Wes and he feels like a fish wrenched from water. 

What the hell was that? 

“Fuck yeah, Fenton.” Dash unscrews the whiskey, flicks the cap off the mouth with a finger, sending it flying. He pours directly into their cups, the liquid glugging through the frosted neck of the bottle.

“Two shots of vodka,” someone says and everyone laughs.

“No chasers?” Danny asks, eyeing his cup. 

Dash puts down the Fireball. “What’s the matter, you scared of the burn?” 

“Not a chance,” he says, and holds out his cup to Dash. They cheers each other and then they’re throwing it back. 

It sinks in his stomach like a rock. There’s no way this ends well. 

.

It’s on the sixth round of Fireball that Dash starts to look green. He sets down his cup and leans on the table. He stares at the clear storage container of jungle juice and Kwan comes up beside him, pats his arm. 

“Dude, maybe you should call it.” 

“I’m fine, ‘s fine…” His words slur together. He tries to stand up straight and Kwan and Paulina both have to keep him up right. 

Danny laughs. “Not lookin’ great, Baxter,” he says, his own words falling sluggishly from his mouth. Danny goes to lift his cup to his lips again and Wes puts his hand over it. 

“Nope. You two are done.” 

“Come on, Wes. Don’t be a buzzkill. I’m good!” Danny says. “Dash is the one that lost!” He flings his hand towards Dash and knocks the Fireball over, spilling it all over the table.

The group all crows at once, a choir of “oh shit” “nice one” and “duuuude noooo”’s. A few people rush to grab their phones from harm's way.

Danny blinks at the table. “Oops,” he says. 

A smile splits his face and he starts chuckling. It builds from him, a laugh, something outside of him—beyond him. 

He laughs until he’s doubled over, holding onto Wes to keep himself stable. 

“Yeah, that’s it. You’ve had more than enough.” He grabs Danny’s cup from him before he can spill that too and drinks it himself. The cinnamon burns through his sinuses and he shudders. Ugh. 

Danny straightens and sways just a bit, stumbling into him—their faces inches apart.

“Hey, that was mine,” he says, voice twisted in a pout. “Not cool.” His breath is cold, thick with the smell of whiskey. 

Wes feels frozen, feels like he can’t breathe. 

His heart pounds in his chest and he prays Danny isn’t so close he can feel it. 

Around them the choir starts again, a chorus of suggestive “ooo”’s. He can feel their eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl. 

Fucking dammit, this is all Fenton’s fault. 

He pushes Danny away from him. Not fast or rough, just to arms length. He coughs. 

“Star, you should go to the kitchen and get them both some water,” he says. 

She gives him an annoyed look. 

“I don’t see you doing anything else,” he snaps. 

“I’m drunk too, you know,” she says, but gets up and leaves towards the kitchen. 

Paulina and Kwan coax Dash into a chair, and he puts his head down on the table, groaning. A few others are sopping up the Fireball with paper towels. 

Danny sags in his grip, goofy smile still plastered all over his face. 

“I’ve never been drunk before, this is awesome,” he says. 

Wes rolls his eyes, and maneuvers Danny into a chair. His head lolls back and he stares at the ceiling for a second before perking back up and trying to go for someone else's cup. 

“Dude, I’m serious.” Wes moves the cup out of his reach. “Quit while you’re ahead.” 

Danny groans, sinking down in his chair like he’s boneless. 

“Come on, Wes,” he says. “You think I don’t know my own limits?” 

“You just said this is your first time being drunk.” 

Danny blows a raspberry. 

Star walks back into the room and hands Wes a glass of water and then slides one across the table at Dash. 

“Here. Wanna drink? Drink this.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he says. 

He’s a few swigs into it when he stops. 

“God, it’s hot in here. Is anyone else hot?” And before anyone can answer his eyes glow that bright blue and a chill works through the air, plummets the temperature. 

“Danny—” Goosebumps rise over Wes’ skin and his breath fogs from his mouth. 

At varying levels of exasperation, the people around cry out. 

“Dude, cut that out,” he says, smacking Danny’s arm. 

“Ow, why are you hitting me?” 

“Because you’re being a pain in the ass.” 

Danny looks at him, blinks heavy eyelids. He smiles. 

“What.” 

“Nothing, you just… You’re cute when you’re all annoyed sometimes.” 

The ground feels like it opens up underneath him. 

His thoughts screech to a stop. It smells like burnt rubber, like cinnamon and black cherry. 

It’s just the alcohol. No fucking way Danny of all people would say that to him. 

“You really are drunk,” he says, but his voice sounds off kilter. 

Across the house the last song fades out and Usher’s Yeah comes on. People scream and cheer. 

“Holy shit, I love this song,” Danny says and stands up. He sways and catches himself on the edge of the table, starts laughing again. “Whew, that was close. The spinning is normal, right?” 

Fucking Christ, how did he end up on babysitting duty again? He rubs his temples. 

Is he really about to do this? 

“You should lay down.” He heaves a sigh. “Come on.” 

“Jeez, Wes, that's pretty forward,” Danny says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Heat flashes through him. 

“Would you just shut up,” he hisses. “And stop making it cold. Jesus.” 

Danny snorts and when he moves from the table he wobbles. Wes grabs him before he topples and slings Danny’s arm over his shoulder to keep him up. 

Danny leans into him, almost unbalances them.

“You got a problem with the cold, Wes?” he says, this time his cold breath is against the side of his neck. It sends chills down his spine. 

“I don’t have to help you, you know,” he says, voice thick. “You can get alcohol poisoning for all I care.” 

“You’re a bad liar, Wes.” 

Wes yanks Danny along beside him and out of the dining room. 

“Shut up, Danny. You’re drunk.” 

He hauls Danny past the living room and the knot of people dancing and singing. A few call out to them, ask them to come have fun. He steers them away before Danny can pull away and join them. 

“But I wanna have fun, Wes,” he whines. 

“Dude, you can’t even stand without my help right now, you really wanna try dancing?” 

“Dance with me, then.” 

Wes stops. He looks over at Danny and… 

He— 

He blinks, shakes his head.

“No, not—not right now,” he mumbles. 

“There’s a whole reason I came alone, you know,” Danny says. 

“What, so you could get fucked up and no one would stop you?” 

“Yeah! I mean… well, that’s part of it.” 

Wes guides them towards the stairs, ignoring the looks. 

“Your house is bigger than it looks from the outside,” Danny says. 

“Thanks?” 

“Mmhm.”

God. This is so not what he thought tonight was going to be like. 

“Where are we going?” Danny asks. 

“Somewhere you can lay down and sober up.” 

“Tha’s not vague.” 

Wes starts pulling Danny up the staircase. The second floor is dark, and he gropes around to hit the light. 

The first few steps are fine, which is to say the next steps aren’t fine. 

What he’s saying is that Danny says, “oh shit.” 

And then he’s falling—pulling Wes down with him. 

More accurately, Danny trips and pulls Wes down on top of him. 

They end up in a heap and Danny groans like someone does when they fall on the fucking stairs.

“Ow.” He reaches for the back of his head. Then he’s laughing, like it's the funniest goddamn thing in the world, what just happened. His face screws up, the face of someone who doesn’t know he’s in pain, just pretending.

“Seriously?” Wes snaps. His shin smarts—must have hit it on the stairs. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs each syllable. “You good?” 

“No, I’m not—” And he looks down and he realizes how close they are. Realizes the way Danny’s hair falls into his face, the light catching the slope of his jaw. 

Danny quiets at the same time and it’s like they get stuck there. Like nothing else exists other than this staircase and this moment and the way Danny feels cool and solid like a summer night underneath him. 

“Hey,” Danny says—sounds almost breathless. “Come here often?” 

Wes rolls his eyes and just like that the moment is over. 

“Ugh.” He pushes himself up, detangles himself from Danny. 

Danny reaches for him, that stupid smile back on his face.

“Oh come on, Wes,” he says. 

“Quit messing around, dude.” 

Danny pushes himself up, runs a hand through his hair and Wes tracks the motion with his eyes against his best wishes. 

“You’re so mean. I could have a concussion and this is how you treat me?” 

Wes stands up and straightens his clothes. “You’re fine.” 

Danny gives him a look and then something sparks in his eyes. “I’m going to text Sam and Tucker and tell them how mean you are to me.” 

Psh. He says that like they don’t already hate him. 

“Would you just get up?” 

“These stairs are actually kinda comfy,” he says, head rolling back, sinking back down and closing his eyes. “I think I’ll just stay here.” 

Wes kicks his leg. 

“You can lay down in the room. Get up.” 

Danny heaves a sigh, throws an arm over his eyes. 

“Fiiinnneee.” He pulls himself up by the handrail, stops in a sitting position. “Jesus,” he says, voice just above a whisper. His breathing gets weird. It makes Wes pause. 

“You okay?” 

“...Spinning,” Danny breathes. He’s quiet for a bit, and Wes just lets him sit there. Danny holds his head in his hands for a while.  

Worry creeps into the back of his mind. Maybe Danny wasn’t kidding about the concussion thing. Maybe he should get someone— 

Then Danny is standing up and Wes steadys his other arm. 

“I got you,” he says. “Feeling okay?” 

Danny sends him a weak smile. “Yeah. Laying down does sound good though," he mumbles.  

They make it up the rest of the stairs, and Danny leans against the wall as Wes opens the door to his room. 

It’s dark and quiet inside and he flips on the light. 

He helps Danny in, and he flops face first onto his bed. He groans and rolls over. 

“I’m thinking those last few shots of Fireball were a bad idea…” 

Wes snorts and closes the door softly behind him. 

“Oh, just the last few, huh?” 

“I was havin’ fun, smartass,” Danny grumbles. 

Wes leans back against his dresser and crosses his arms. “I said you should have stopped but noooo, no one listens to Wes.” 

It gets quiet and he can feel the heaviness in the air. He clears his throat. “If you throw up in my bed, I’m kicking you out the window.” 

“I’m not going to throw up.” 

“Famous last words, Fenton.” 

“Shaddup,” Danny says, and it gets quiet. 

Wes can feel the bass from the music through the floor, the muffled sound of singing, laughing, talking. He’s used to ducking out at parties early. He’s used to laying in bed and listening to the songs through the walls until the voices slowly fade and the house is empty again. He listens to Kyle stumble up to bed and knock into the walls and yell “I’m okay” when he does.

He’s not used to having… company. 

Danny sits up like a puppet on too few strings. He makes a frustrated noise.

“It’s still hot,” he sighs. 

“It’s the alcohol, dude.” 

Danny runs his hands over his face, and then reaches back and starts pulling his hoodie off. It drags his shirt up with it and Wes can’t help but look. He looks at the multitude of scars staining Danny’s skin and the way his muscles move over his ribs and—he pulls his gaze away and studies the floor instead. 

“This is your bedroom, huh?” 

“Yep.” 

“Doesn’t look how I thought it would.” 

Wes wrinkles his nose. “How'd you think it would look?”

Danny takes his time looking around the room, hoodie pooled in his lap, before he looks at Wes and gives a boneless shrug. 

“I dunno. More,” he holds his hands up, splays his fingers, “raah!” 

“I… don’t know what that means.” 

“You know! Like… newspaper-clipping red-web on all the walls,” Danny says, smile creeping back. 

Wes squints at Danny. He pushes off his dresser. 

“That’s still all you think of me?” He picks a pillow from his bed and throws it at Danny’s face. Danny lets out a yelp. 

“Besides, I took all that shit down when the truth came out anyway,” he says, trying and failing to keep the inkling of a smile from his voice. 

Danny looks at him blankly for a second before he starts to smile again. 

“Wait, was that… Did you just make a joke?” 

Wes snorts. 

“You did! Holy shit, Wes has a sense of humor, this is bigger news than my shit. I gotta tell everyone.” 

Danny looks soft, sitting like this in the middle of his bed, eyes warm in a way Wes didn’t realize they could be. 

Something in him loosens. 

“Good luck getting people to believe you…” he says. 

“Oh, how the turn tables,” Danny says, and for a bit all they do is smile at each other. 

Danny looks away first, he glances up at the light and squints. 

“You got a light that isn’t so fuckin’ bright?” 

“I thought the light sensitivity was supposed to happen the morning after drinking.” 

“You’re full of jokes tonight.” 

Wes rolls his eyes and flips on the bedside lamp and then shuts off the overhead light. 

Danny hums and flops back down. “Better,” he says.

It’s silent for a few beats and Danny lifts his head to look at him. He smacks the comforter a few times with a flat hand. 

Wes blanches; he’s all too aware of himself, of Danny and the dim light and the closed door. 

“Dude, chill,” Danny says, like he can read his mind—wait, he can’t actually do that, right? Ghosts can’t do that? 

“Sit down or something. You just standing there watching me is creepy,” Danny says. 

Wes swallows his own heartbeat, shakes his head. “Seriously, between the two of us, I’m not the creepy one.” 

“Says the stalker.” 

“I didn’t stalk you.” 

Danny gives him a look, with raised eyebrows and everything. 

Wes sits on the side of the bed, scoots back so he’s leaned against the headboard. 

“I was… investigating.” 

Danny laughs. “Sure, dude. Whatever you say,” and his voice is like smoke—hickory and rough but winding through the air like silk.  

They fall into an amiable silence, cotton soft, but cold. Danny has an arm over his eyes again, and his breathing is so slow it’s hard to pick out from the music downstairs. 

He rakes a hand through his hair and takes out his phone. He unlocks it and scrolls mindlessly for a while. 

He can’t focus. 

Not with Danny so close like this. Not when everything is different now. His mind drifts off and he tries to keep track of every breath, wonders if he’s fallen asleep— 

“Hey, Wes.” 

He jumps. Just a little bit. 

“Y-yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He puts his phone down. 

“...For what?”

“For making everyone think you were crazy.” 

Wes twists his hand in his comforter. Why the hell is Danny apologizing to him? After everything he’s done to him… tried to do to him. It gets stuck in his throat. 

“It’s… You don’t have to—” he wishes he’d had a few more drinks. 

“Nah. I do. Looking back, I didn’t handle you knowing very well.” 

He chews on his lip. He’s never felt so out of place. 

“Danny…” 

Danny moves his arm and looks up at him and his courage almost shrivels. 

“I’m the one who should apologize. Not you. I—” He balls his hands into fists. “What I did, trying to basically out you, that wasn’t… that wasn’t okay.” 

“You didn’t know the whole situation.” 

“Did I need to? It was still fucked up and. I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in wanting to be right that I didn’t care what it could have done to you.” 

It feels like glass coming up from his throat. 

He’s lost sleep, engraved in the ceiling all the ways he fucked up, all the times he's glad now that no one listened to him. His eyes feel hot and there’s no way in hell he’s going to fucking get emotional in front of Danny. 

“It all worked out in the end,” Danny says. He says it easy, gentle. “You were still technically right, though, so… There’s that.” 

Wes huffs. “Yeah. I guess.” He fights through all the mess. “I don’t know how this didn’t happen sooner though. You were terrible at hiding it.” 

Danny props himself up on his elbows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude, I'm a great liar.” 

Wes leans his head back on the headboard. “Sure, but you’re reckless as hell. How many times did you stick your arm through your locker in front of God and everyone?” 

Danny smiles wide and bright. 

“Honestly, after a while, it was just fun to see how far I could go before anyone noticed.” 

Wes can’t help but chuckle. “Pretty far, obviously.”  

“No kidding.” 

Wes runs his palms over his jeans. 

“You’re good though, right?” Wes looks anywhere but Danny. “At home and all that.” 

“Oh. Yeah. It was, uhm, a lot for my parents. But we’re getting there.” 

“Good… That’s good.” The words feel sharp and blocky, and he doesn’t know what else to say. What else can he say? 

His buzz pulls away from him, pulls him down, makes his lids heavy. 

“How do you think Dash is doing?” Danny says. 

“Pf. If he isn’t hugging a trashcan right now, I’ll be shocked.�� 

Danny laughs. 

Wes leans over onto some of his pillows. 

“How are you this okay after drinking all that?” 

Danny shrugs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m feeling it. My guess is something to do with the healing factor ghost shit.” 

“Right, makes sense.” 

He feels tired and heavy and the darkness at the corners of the room get fuzzier. 

“Paulina brought her own champagne glass,” Danny tells him. And he laughs because, who does that? 

He rolls onto his back and they stare at the ceiling.

“Are you kidding? Paulina does that, it’s Paulina,” Danny says. 

They stare at the ceiling like it’s not a ceiling, like it might become more than just ceiling. Wes imagines it disappearing completely.

Danny likes stars, doesn’t he? 

When Danny talks again it’s like he’s far away. An arms length, an atmosphere’s length… he doesn’t know. 

Danny says, “sucks that I’m missing the Super Smash Tournament.” 

Wes tries to keep his eyes from slipping shut. The bed pulls him like quicksand, the smell of sleep. “Trust me, dude, Kyle always wins anyway.” 

Danny says something, something about who he mains or doesn’t main. It becomes all the same, the sluggish rise and fall. 

At some point between light and dark Wes decides that he likes the sound of Danny’s voice. He somehow likes that the room is colder than it usually is. 

And maybe somewhere between all that he decides some other stuff too. 

— 

Wes wakes up before Danny. The sun streams in through a gap in his curtains, pooling on the wall and floor.

He doesn’t have a headache, but his neck hurts like hell. 

Danny is lying on his side faced away from him and, fuck, thank God. He thinks about last night, about Danny in his arms and he— 

He sits up and rubs his hands over his warm cheeks. 

Water. He should get some water. 

He slips out of his room and goes downstairs to the kitchen. The house is quiet. 

Well. 

Mostly. 

He can hear the sink running and the clink of glass. When he comes around the corner he sees Kyle washing dishes. The house is only half as trashed as he thought it’d be. 

Kyle looks up at him as he walks in. 

“Morning.” 

He grunts, going to pluck a clean glass from the drying rack. 

“Hangover?” 

“Nah. Slept wrong.” He fills his glass at the fridge and downs it all at once. The water helps wash the sour taste from his mouth. Ugh, he should still brush his teeth. 

He fills the glass again and heads back upstairs. He pushes back into his room and when the door creaks he sees Danny jump. 

He walks around the bed and offers the glass to a squinting Danny. 

“Awake?” he asks. 

Danny groans and pushes himself up. His hair is messy, hanging in his eyes. It's infuriating. 

He rubs the side of his face and when he takes the cup their fingers brush. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs. 

“We have pop-tarts and cereal and shit downstairs.” 

Danny gives him a thumbs up while he drinks. 

He wants to ask if he’s okay... He decides to leave it for later. 

Wes leaves his room and goes back to the kitchen. When he gets there, he pulls the pop-tarts down from the cabinet. 

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Kyle says, “if you wanna clean the dining room, I’ll clean the living room.” 

“Nope, no. This was your thing, dude. You threw the party.” 

“But Wes,” he whines, “Dad’s gonna be home tonight.” 

“Then you should probably get started,” he says and claps him on the shoulder on his way to the toaster.

“Dude, cold blooded. You’re just gonna watch me slave away for hours and not even help your own brother?” 

“Uh... yeah.” He slots the pop-tarts into the toaster. He turns towards Kyle and leans against the counter, grinning at him. 

Kyle gives him a look. 

“How much.” 

“No. No, I’m not gonna be bought this time.” 

“Twenty bucks.” 

“Kyle.”

“Fine, you drive a hard bargain. Forty.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“‘This time?’ What happened last time?” 

They jump and look at Danny as he comes down the stairs. He has his hoodie slung over a shoulder and the half empty water glass in his hand. 

“Holy shit,” Kyle says. 

“It’s not important,” he says, sending a glare at the back of Kyle’s head. 

Danny walks up to the counter and sets the glass down to pull his hoodie on. 

“No fucking way,” Kyle says, voice pitched up. “I didn’t believe it when everyone was talking about it last night, holy shit.” 

Danny tugs the hem of his hoodie down and gives Kyle a confused look that he moves over to Wes.

He returns the look, just as lost.

“Dude, what the hell are you talking about?” 

“You two hooking up last night,” Kyle says, like it’s obvious.

It feels like for a second time stops—  

Hooking up?

Hooking up?! 

His heart skips in his chest and heat rushes to his face and the tips of his ears. He feels like he’s been slapped across the face.

Danny looks like a deer in the headlights. 

“Uh—” 

The toaster pops. 

“Which, can I just say, I totally called it. I knew there had to be another reason Wes was so obsessed with yo—” 

“Kyle!” he snaps, his voice higher than he anticipated. “Kyle, oh my fucking god, shut up. We didn’t— Nothing happened last night, we just—”  

His breath feels tight in his throat and he wants to lock himself in his room forever. He can’t make himself look at Danny. 

“Who the hell told you that-that we—” 

“Uh, dude, a bunch of people saw you guys go into your room together. You know Pualina was telling me that Danny was all over yo—”

“Okay! Thank you, Kyle!” he cuts in. “Jesus fucking—” He buries his face in his hands. 

This is it, this is how he’s going to die. 

“I’m just glad for you two! I mean, like, jeez, finally!” 

“Kyle, I’ll help you clean if you shut up right now and never bring this up ever again.” 

Kyle stops, face lighting up. “Dude, deal.” 

“Cool. Now please leave.” 

“What?” 

Wes grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him out of the kitchen. “Leave. Go get the cleaning shit from the garage or some shit, I don’t know.” 

“Oh. Ohhhh, I see. I get you. I’ll leave you two kids alone to enjoy your breakfast together,” he says with a wink and holy fuck, he’s going to kill his fucking brother.

Kyle heads for the stairs and calls down, “Lemme know when it’s safe to come back down!” 

Wes drags his hands down his face. He lets out a slow breath and he tries to ignore his pounding heart. 

Wes goes to the nearest counter and puts his head down. The surface is cold against his burning skin. He groans like an injured animal and at this point he really wishes someone would put him out of his misery. 

“Well…” Danny says from behind him.

 He hears Danny moving and the sound of the fridge being opened. He looks up, watches as Danny takes orange juice from the fridge. When he turns around he sees his face is red too. 

“I mean… hardly the worst rumor to get spread around about us,” he says. That stupid smile makes its way onto Danny’s face. 

“I once had this dude tell everyone at school that I was a ghost. It was super weird.” 

Wes shakes his head. “Dude, shut up.” But he can’t help the grin that pulls at his lips. 

Danny laughs, a quieter thing today than it was last night. 

“I can have some, right?” he asks, lifting the OJ. 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” 

They fall into silence while Danny pours a glass and Wes goes to numbly retrieve his pop-tarts. 

“It’s probably spread through all of Casper now, huh.” 

Danny glances at him. Something dances through his expression. He hums as he takes a drink of his juice. 

“Uh. Probably further than that, now that everyone knows I'm… you know.” Danny shoots him an uneasy look.

Right. Right. 

This was just getting better and better. 

He takes a bite of his pop-tart. It crumbles in his mouth like sand. 

“Are you… okay?” Danny asks. He reaches back and rubs his neck, and dammit, now he’s just adding insult to injury. 

He looks at him, and he sees the nerves in the way he holds himself, stitched into the way the light hits him. He’s not asking just one question.

Wes swallows. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I mean, like you said. There could be way worse rumors,” he says. He looks at Danny like he’s too far away, like he enjoyed last night way more than he should have. And he sees it in Danny too, some sort of mirror. 

“I think so too,” Danny says, heavy the way he exhales it. 

They break eye contact and Wes doesn’t really know what to do, what to say. 

“Well, uh. You have cleaning to do, I guess. I should probably get home before my parents get too freaked out.” 

Wes nods. “Yeah, probably.” He wonders if Danny knows what’s in his voice. The dark from last night is clouding his mind, pulling him, begging him to just say it.   

“Yeah… I’ll, uh, see you at school?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.” 

But Danny doesn't move. 

He lingers like a shadow. He looks like he wants to go. He looks like he wants to stay. 

“Wes,” he says. 

Wes looks at him.  

He worries at his bottom lip and moves along the counter towards him. 

“Thanks. For last night.” 

He lets out a puff. “Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t die the rest of the way from alcohol poisoning.” 

Danny rolls his eyes. 

“I wasn’t that bad.” 

“You were pretty bad.” 

“Not even.” Danny smiles.

And they’re close again, sharing each other's space. 

“It wasn’t… awful, I guess,” he says before he can stop himself. “Even with you being a pain in the ass the entire time.” 

“Maybe we could do it again sometime,” Danny murmurs.

“What, me looking after your drunk ass the whole night?” 

Danny snorts. “No, I was thinking more like I match you drink for drink instead,” he says. 

“At least then you’d last till the Smash tournament.” 

Danny glances away. 

“I didn’t mind missing it too much, actually.” 

Wes’s breath gets stuck and his heart beats like a drum in his ribcage. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah…” 

In some ways it’s just like last night; Danny’s close enough he can feel the movement of his breath between them. 

“It’s way more fun, bothering you.” 

It’s a slow motion sort of thing, a hair raising thing. 

“Well you’re an expert at it by now.” 

Wes thinks about theme parks. Sitting at the top of the sky and just before his stomach drops—

“Always room for improvement. I could get better at it if you want me to.” 

And what if he does? What if he wants to see Danny in all the ways he can? What if he wants to know Danny for real this time?  

Maybe he wants pictures, proof that it’s real. 

Maybe it’s always been leading to this. 

Maybe it’s fucked up. 

Wes having the power to hurt him all over again. 

“Drink for drink?” he says, barely a whisper. 

“Drink for drink,” Danny says—closer, closer, breath against his lips. 

Danny gives him time to pull away. But Wes doesn’t. Something to do with what he decided last night.  

“Prove it.”

#Unidentified Flying Ship #danny/wes #Danny Phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #my writing #DP Shiptember 2021 #drunk prompt #one-shot #wes weston #wesley weston

[sweeterthansammy]

ROGERS || Steve Rogers

Hockey player!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader; The reader is Steve’s girlfriend.

Summary: Steve’s team loses the game and the reader assures him that he’ll always be her #1.

Genre: Smut

Written in third person point of view.

Warnings: Oral (male receiving), face-fucking, deep-throating, unprotected sex, subtle praise kink, innuendos to overstimulation, & mild language

Word count: 1.7k+

A/N: This is so vanilla...I hate it 😃

The clock ticked, each passing second raising a wave of nervousness upon the players and the audience. The crowd roared, cheering on for their home team as they fought over the puck. Watching from the sidelines, Y/N bounced on her two feet, wincing as her boyfriend butt shoulders with a mid-fielder of the opposition.

Further fighting over the puck, Steve looked up for a moment, smoothly gliding over the ice before passing to another teammate - only to have it stolen. Y/N could only see the way his lips curved, sputtering out the word ‘no’ over and over. It was now her turn to call Steve’s name and shout ‘no’ repeatedly as he sped over to reclaim the puck.

“Steve!” she yelled out once more as he collided straight into the other team’s member.

The buzzer went off, the puck landing in that of the competitor’s goal.

“Fuck,” she muttered, watching as Steve did the same, except shouting rather than mumbling.

Steve wasn’t one to get riled up easily but when it came to something he prioritized - Y/N and hockey - he could be capable of some quite destructive things.

Though he and his team had lost, he couldn’t walk away a sore loser, congratulating them on the win before hitting the showers. Y/N knew it was best to give him some time to cool off afterward. Not only did spending some time away help them ease their minds a bit, but it allowed her to get ready for the long night awaiting them.

Victory sex was amazing, beyond amazing, actually. But sex after he’d just lost was indescribable. If it were a casual game, Steve would need less than fifteen minutes to cool off, but considering that this was the playoffs, it took around an hour. He and his team radiated sorrow, all trying to uplift each other.

“You did your best, man,” Bucky encouraged him, patting his back on his way to the showers himself.

Steve gave a lopsided smile, wanting to do nothing but practice for hours following their next season. Giving himself mental affirmations, he was able to cool off a bit, running his hands through his hair as water trickled down his face.

Back at their shared apartment, Y/N had gotten herself nice and comfy in a lacy red lingerie set, Steve’s hockey jersey stopping just above her buttcheeks. Her hair had been damp, just coming out of the shower herself.

She smelt of sugar and a subtleness of vanilla, a scent ready to fill her boy’s nostrils and engulf him in her warmth. She’d prepared a glass of whiskey on the rocks for him, stealing a sip for herself to add to the fire already swirling in her lower abdomen.

She jumped to meet the door, setting down the book she had been previously reading once dogearing the last read page. The faint chatter of Steve’s voice evolved to something above indoor level, Y/N swinging the door open to reveal him walking down the corridor. He looked up, eyes skimming over her body.

“Yeah, we’ll definitely do better next season.”

He could feel an instant strain in his pants, pupils dilating ten times bigger as he watched her lean against the doorway.

“Got it, coach.”

He walked the remainder of the distance to their apartment, large hand raising heat to the surface of her skin as his hand laid on her waist despite its frigid febricity. She could hear Stark blabbering, most likely pissed at the fact that they spent half a year preparing for this big game.

Y/N only giggled, allowing Steve to swipe her off of her feet and carry her straight to their bedroom once he’d locked the door.

He sandwiched his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, continuing to speak to his coach as he motioned for Y/N to lay on the bed. She looked gorgeous laying there, damp hair splayed about, red lace peeking from under his jersey.

Oh my god. My fucking jersey-

“Steve,” she whined, knees bumping each other as they swayed back and forth.

“Sh,” he quietly hushed her, his left hand pushing her legs apart before running down the inner parts of her thighs.

His hands dropped to the red lace covering her heat, middle and ring fingers pushing the fabric aside before easing up her folds. She shuddered at the feeling, his icy fingers fingertips finding a warm spot between her walls. He simply smiled, flashing her a load of his pearly whites as she squirmed only with the touch of his fingers.

“Fuck,” she murmured, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as his fingers grazed against her sweet spot.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he quickly spoke up, swatting Y/N’s hand from her face as she bit down on her index finger. “Kitten, I’d think that you could keep quiet without having anything in your mouth. Maybe my expectations were too high of you.”

The thought of his cock being stuffed down her throat to keep herself silent was far too pleasant. As he watched her stand up briefly, his hand held her forearm, snaking around her waist once her front was pressed to his.

Their lips melting into one another, tongues fighting and teeth clashing. Her hands grasped onto his roots, arms wrapping around his neck as his hips rolled into hers.

“Take everything off besides the jersey,” he mumbled, his grip around her waist tightening as her hands dropped down to the bulge in his pants.

She slid her hand below his joggers, scratching at the skin of his abdomen and his pelvis before slipping into his boxers. She opened her eyes, pulling away from his puffy pink lips before dropping to her knees. Her hands were everywhere all at once, making his head grow dizzy as she slid his bottoms down to his ankles.

“You’re gonna be fuckin’ death of me,” he grumbled, watching the way her lips perfectly wrapped around his cock, her jaw widening more and more as she made her way down his length.

His hand held onto the back of her head, unleashing a quiet groan as she got her hands into the mix. He quickly moved his phone from his ear.

“Shit,” he muttered, his head lazing backward as continued to swirl her tongue around his head, her mouth leaving thick coats of saliva along his cock. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just stubbed my toe.”

She couldn’t help the airy laugh that escaped from deep within her chest. She gagged on his cock as he jutted his hips forward, hitting the back of her throat.

Saliva pooled at the sides of her mouth as he continued to fuck her face. She swallowed around him, eliciting yet another groan from him, his fingers getting lost in her hair as he forced her to take more and more of him with the assistance of her hands.

Hot tears escaped the corners of her eyes as he continued with the violent pace of his hips bucking into her mouth. She looked up at him, watching the way he bit onto the hem of his t-shirt. She somehow felt as if more saliva began to drip dribble down her chin.

She could feel everything tensing in his body as he grew closer to his climax, from his jaw down to his thighs. One set of her nails slipped from around his cock, scratching at the skin of his thighs. He looked down at her, going ballistic at the sight of her sitting so obediently in front of him.

With one more grapple of her hand to his balls, hot spurts of cum painted her throat. She pulled off of him, lips wet and slippery, still attached to him through a string of saliva.

She stood to her feet, nails grazing at his fair torso as she immediately attached her lips to his again. He pulled away for a second, hands making a quick work of her underwear that were still on.

“Hey Tony, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He wasted no time in pressing the red button to hang up on his coach. She easily removed her bra from beneath the jersey, throwing it aside.

“Wore your favorite set but it seems like you’d much rather see me in your jersey,” she feigned a pout, looking at him with bright, ogling eyes that screamed, “fuck me.”

“Just wanted to see my name on your back, kitten. That’s all.”

God, it was the hottest thing ever. He had her laid on her chest, knees supporting her backside as he came right up behind her.

“You look so fucking good in my jersey, baby,” he hummed, grunting when she threw her hips back at him.

His tip was eased into her, her walls aching for more as they clenched around nothing.

“Steve, just fuck me already,” she grumbled, hands scrambling at his that rested on either side of her head.

Her lower tummy swirled, arousal flooding her body as Steve rocked his hips forward, setting a sinful pace for his girl. She moaned aloud, the sound of skin slapping and Steve’s vulgar groans soon sending her over edge. She didn’t think his pace could get any faster, but as he swept her hair to the side and held onto her shoulder, she cried out as every inch of him sunk into her, leaving quickly once more.

His hand snuck below the fabric that covered her bare breasts, fingers jerking at her nipples. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, the letters of his name repped proudly across her back. His fingers tugged at her jaw, his other arm supporting her as he raised her back to meet his chest. Her lips melted into his, tongue swirling into his mouth as she could feel herself coming undone.

“Fuck, I love you,” he muttered, spinning her onto the back as if she were a feather.

He hoisted her legs above his shoulders, basking in the way she clenched around him, eyebrows furrowing as she saw stars.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised. “Cum for me, kitten.”

She did exactly that, coming down from her high with a cry as he continued to gently rock his hips into hers. She breathed heavily as he thrust once more, filling her with his seed. He looked at her exhausted figure, laying a soft kiss on her knee, down her thighs, and right above her cunt.

“Steve-”

“We’ve got a long night ahead of ourselves, doll.”

Taglist: @i-love-scott-mccall @ronbrokemyheart @quxxnxfhxll @eunoia-kth @siriuslyslyslytherin @dracomalfoys-wh0re @rudypankowisdaddy @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel smut #mcu smut

[ghostdrew22]

Glass Shatters || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader, also kinda Blaise x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxicity, ANGST, just pure fucking angst and asshole!draco, oh and swearing lol Summary: You realise that it’s time to end things with Draco when he hurts you one last time. AU with no Voldemort - 7th Year.

WORDS : 2294

Lyrics taken from ‘What Do I Tell My Friends’ by Bree Runway (the loml)

~~~

Hold me, don't let me go I'm fragile, I'm gonna fall right into you Catch time that I have lost Fly high, free fall, ooh

There’s always been something so beautiful about the way that glass shatters, loud and chaotic, scattering shards of itself everywhere and lodging itself in places that it doesn’t belong. It’s poetically exquisite, to just come apart and spread into tinier pieces of what you were once before, but it’s grossly painful to wear oneself out like that.

Sometimes, though not often enough, there is someone there to catch the glass before it hits the ground and scatters into a million pieces. A safety net, perhaps is the right word, there to protect those lattices from coming into contact with the hard surface that awaits them. Something to keep them from separating like the tangled limbs of playful children on a trampoline when they come back down to land against the woven polypropylene. But there’s not often a safety net waiting for you to fall.

And maybe that’s why people typically shatter like glass.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-huh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

You catch a glimpse of Draco across the room. He’s doing it again. He’s got one arm around Cho Chang’s shoulder and another around Millicent Bullstrode’s, and not a single sliver of attention is being directed toward you.

You’re not fragile. No. You never have been.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve prided yourself on being strong, on being able to protect yourself. What most people see when they look at you is power and ferocity- you're made of what Gods are made of and almost everyone knows it. You are not fragile.

But when it comes to Draco, you are like a frail baby bird that's always being nursed back to health. That was what a routine like the two of you had demanded. Submission, protection, but most would call it toxicity. You are putty in his hands and he knows it- every wall that you’ve ever built to protect yourself is nothing more than a child’s play pen when Draco is involved.

You catch his eye and scowl at the mischievous grin that he’s got on his face. He knows how much you despise his flirtatious nature, and it’s exactly that reason that encourages him to keep it up. You’re a beast that’s not to be messed with, like a tiger lodged in a cage, and he’s the only one that knows how to tame you. It always goes down the same way; he insists that the two of you need to keep it on the down-low, he then proceeds to flirt with everyone, you get upset, the two of you get in an argument and well... he always wins.

You're not fragile yet he always gets a reaction out of you.

But not tonight, no. Tonight it’ll be different.

Tonight you’re going to have a good time, with or without that snow-flake haired prick. You turn beside you where Neville, your best friend, is seated and smile at him.

“Neville, want to get smashed with me?”

“Always, Y/N.” Neville responds with a grin and you excitedly get up to get you both some drinks.

You're g-g-getting way too close (Oh oh, oh oh) Stop blowin' up my phone (Oh oh, oh oh) Just let me be alone (Oh oh, oh oh) It's gotta come to an end 'Cause what do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

Draco catches a glimpse of you leaving the couch where Neville, Blaise and Hannah are sitting, and decides to follow you toward the drinks table.

“Whoring around are we?” He asks with his eyebrows raised and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you’re one to talk.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”He tugs on your chin and brings you up to face him.

“First of all,” You start as you softly remove his hand from your chin and lower it to his side, “You heard me. Second of all,” You put a hand to his chest and gently shove him backwards, “Back up please, I can smell your breakfast from here.”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Y/N, this bratty behaviour-“

“Call me a brat, ever again, and I’ll make sure that’s the last thing you ever call me.” You smile, “I have a name, stick to it.”

This is very new for Draco, he’s never seen you speak so calmly in the heat of an argument. He’s seen you rage at him, yell until your lungs are sore and throat is raw, clench your fists so tight that crescent moons form in your palm. But he’s never seen you like this, never so collected. If he’s being completely honest, your level-headed appearance is throwing him off.

“Whatever pothead Neville’s given you is clearly fucking with your head, let’s go back to my dorm-“ He starts as he inches closer and grabs your wrist.

You yank yourself out of his grip and take a few steps away from him, “As tempting as that offer sounds, I’m good thanks.” When you notice the look of confusion painting across his features you smile awkwardly, “I know how this always ends so I’d much rather be alone.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait until you don’t want to be alone anymore?” He asks with a scoff.

“It’s not like I haven’t been doing that for you.” You accuse and watch as he clenches his jaw in frustration, a sign that his patience for you is wearing thin. “And that’s not what I meant. I want to be alone, indefinitely.”

“What?”

“This,” You gesture between the both of you, “Is over. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh my fuck, do what Y/N?”

“All of it. I can’t keep sneaking around anymore like some kind of dirty secret. I can’t keep watching you flirt with everyone that’s within a 5km radius, and I can’t keep lying to my friends. What am I meant to tell them when I go disappearing for hours at a time and come back, covered in hickeys?”

“Nothing. It's no one's business.” He grits out angrily and you scoff with a small laugh.

“You’re pathetic. We’re done.” You utter before walking away from him, and his little corner, and go back to join Blaise, Hannah and Neville on the dance floor.

In the mirror like you're tough, right? I shoulda known once when you bit twice Drip drop both my , yeah I been nice Vodka overdose but no ice I'm done catching feelings, I catch flights Was in the dark but I got bright Not crawling back to you tonight Not crawling back to you tonight, tonight

“Shots, now.” You mumble once you get back to your friends and they waste no time obliging.

Draco’s had the pleasure of picking you apart like a worn out doll for too long, you won’t tolerate it anymore. He calls, you run. He warns, you heed. He scolds, you leave. Whatever he wants, you do without a moment of hesitation. When had you become so easily prey to his antics? You steal a glance of him checking himself out in a nearby mirror and feel your throat close up in disgust. How can someone so gorgeous be so horrible?

Deep down, beneath all that beauty and cockiness, is a vulnerable, scared and loveless little boy who didn’t learn to outgrow his insecurities. He can pretend all he wants that he’s a diamond but you’ll always know, he’s dark and desolate like a stone of coal. Something inside of him is fractured beyond repair and now he’s just remnants of disintegrated life. And try as hard as you might, you can’t fix whatever’s broken inside him. It’s not your job to anyway.

You always run back to him, in hopes of finally curing the malaise that torments his soul, but not tonight. No. Tonight will be different.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-uh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

“Is this a party or a funeral? For fucks sake, turn it up Ginny!” You shout as you turn behind you to face the beautiful ginger that’s controlling the music.

“Anything for you Y/N.” She responds flirtatiously as she sends you a wink and proceeds to turn up the volume to the music. You look away from her with a dopey smile, trying to pretend that her wink hadn’t made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Oh Ginny. If you hadn’t wasted so much time pining after that blond prat then maybe you’d have gotten to her before Harry had.

“Come dance with me!” Blaise yells over the music and you happily agree as you let him take your hand and move you toward the makeshift dancefloor.

Any other time, you would have refused. It’s no secret that, despite being best friends, Blaise and Draco can be very competitive. Blaise had always been your friend and Draco, had not. But it was quite obvious to anyone who had eyes that the two of them both took quite a liking to you, and while your relationship with Draco isn’t public, it’s still never a good idea to get too close to Blaise. But fuck good ideas, tonight none of it matters.

If Draco likes to see you angry then today he’ll see you seething. Every unspoken rule that’s ever sat between the two of you will now be broken so harshly that it’ll shake him to his core.

You wait until you’ve spotted him in the room, then you hook your arms around Blaise’s neck and allow his hands to fall on your waist as a measure to guide you along with him. It’s not long until Draco sees you, and when his eyes lock with yours, you know that he’s positively enraged. If this is a game, today you are winning.

He’s almost always got the upper hand. But not tonight. No. Tonight is different.

You're g-g-getting way too close (Oh oh, oh oh) Stop blowin' up my phone (Oh oh, oh oh) Just let me be alone (Oh oh, oh oh) It's gotta come to an end 'Cause what do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

Before you know it Draco is crossing the room and yanking you away from Blaise by the arm, dragging you to an abandoned section of the room.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Why are you hovering so close to me?” You ask in frustration as you step back from him. “Sheesh.”

“Sheesh? Sheesh?” He repeats in disbelief and you have to resist the urge to laugh. “Y/N, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough apparently, considering I’m standing here with you and not grinding against your better looking counterpart.” You mumble and Draco scoffs.

“Blaise is not better looking than me-“

“Okay Romeo, whatever you say.” You cut him off with a giggle, “Are we done here or was there more?”

“Was there more?” He repeats in a mocking tone, like a child making fun of their childhood friend. “Of course there was bloody more!”

His outburst has you laughing, genuinely laughing, and for a second you see the Draco Malfoy that got you into this mess in the first place. Your funny, good-looking, charming classmate that you accidentally allowed to creep into your heart. But he’s not the real Draco, no, that Draco doesn’t actually exist.

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek and, without even thinking, say “I wish that this was the real you.” He furrows his eyebrows at you, clearly confused, but you continue nonetheless. “I can’t keep doing this Draco, I love you but I love myself more and I can’t allow you to get in the way of my wellbeing any longer.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “How am I getting in the way of your wellbeing?”

“Tell me that you love me too, right now, say it.” You shrug.

“Y/N, you can’t jus-“

“Okay, tell me that we can go public.” You revert and he swallows.

“Why are you-“

“Fuck, I’ll make it easy for you.” You interrupt him once again and give him a thin smile, “Tell me that what we have is real and that we’re in a relationship.”

He opens his mouth but no words come out and you nod your head awkwardly in understanding.

“Y/N, it’s not that-“

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief, “Your chest is hollow and yet you still have no space for me.”

“No-“

You blink back tears as you continue, “You push away everyone that cares about you and then you turn around and complain about the fact that there’s no one left to root for you. How can I possibly be in your corner when you’re continuously trying to shove me out of it?”

There are tears welling in your eyes but you don’t let them fall, no, he doesn’t deserve to make you cry.

He looks at you in shock and you know that you’re not getting any kind of closure from him. Despite how hard you’d tried to convince yourself otherwise, you had always been nothing more than a warm bed that he could settle into when he was lonely. The fire in you that he’s always admired seems to dwindle whenever you’re beneath his gaze, and now you realise that it’s not fair for you to die out for him.

“I hope you learn to start letting people in.” You whisper before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking back toward your friends.

He watches you walk away from him and struggles to sort through his thoughts. No, no, no. You can’t leave him, everyone else has already left him. You’re safe, you’re warm, you’re you, and Draco knows that he has feelings for you but how can he possibly convey that when words always get trapped in his throat like a cricket in a shoebox?

He knows what he wants to say to you, the words are scraping against the belt of his mouth like knives ripping through tape on a cardboard box, but how does he get them out, how does he make you understand?

Maybe that’s just it, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t make you understand. He doesn’t get you. He breaks, little by little, with every step you take away from him.

What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

“What was that about?” Blaise asks in your ear and you roll your eyes as you pull back to look at him.

“Draco being immature, nothing important.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Blaise smiles sheepishly. “I was worried that maybe something was going on between you two.”

You smile brightly at the boy as you bring his hands down to your waist and sway to the music. “Why would that worry you Zabini?”

“I’m kind of into you.” Blaise whispers before bringing his lips down to connect with yours.

You don’t notice, too engulfed in the feeling of Blaise’s lips against yours, but across the room Draco’s eyes are focused quite intently on you and Blaise. When the two of you kiss Draco drops the glass that he had been holding, and he thinks that maybe he’s that glass; being smashed to smithereens.

~~~

Okay, I’ll stop with angst now... (maybe) I have the sudden desire to write fluff so the sequel to ‘Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass’ will definitely be wholesome and fluffy.

I’m probably not going to post again for a few days, I’m a bit worn out rn, but I’ll be back to writing soon!

anyway, love you all

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco angst #draco fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

[mittensmorgul]

it’s a bummer to see you can’t enjoy the ending. I hope someday you can come around it it. It wasn’t perfect but it didn’t nuke its integrity. i think the heart of the show really shines through and it’s a shame that it’s not being appreciated bc there’s so much shipping drama 😣

Hi there!

I... first of, I really need people to understand this... the travesty of the finale for me has almost nothing to do with “shipping drama.”

Yes, I see the wild conspiracy theories flying around, and I’m honestly concerned for some of those folks and hope they can find a way to make peace with this in whatever way they can, because we aren’t likely to ever get a better answer than that this is legitimately the ending that Dabb thought was best, despite years of us seeing the best of his writing choices and guiding Sam, Dean, and Cas to grow past the roles that Chuck would’ve forced them to fulfill, and that at the end it fell flat because he couldn’t actually come up with a better ending than “this was always their destiny, free will is a lie, and these characters had nothing outside of the revenge quest they’d been raised for since birth and manipulated into over and over for the entertainment of a vengeful god.”

I can see how “surface level” viewers would feel that this one basic narrative point was satisfying, that Sam and Dean had grown beyond their own hopeless cycle of self-sacrifice that had driven the narrative for so many years. The fact that they both acknowledged that they should allow their stories to end in that way was satisfying... but only in the shallowest and most detached read of the narrative. Like, is this really the ONLY thing these two characters learned in the last 15 years? If so, that is BEYOND depressing af.

And even THAT message lost all narrative weight when the two of them were once again reunited in death, as if nothing else had ever mattered in their lives. As if neither of them had ever outgrown the codependency that had driven so many of those previous self-sacrifices and refusals to let go of each other even in death.

So yeah, in the absolute most basic sense, I suppose I can see how casual viewers or people who aren’t actually invested in these characters could find that at least narratively coming back to a starting point.

But narratives don’t actually work that way, and that’s not the point of watching fifteen years of story develop in between.

This story wasn’t JUST about Sam and Dean needing to accept that death might be okay actually.

This story was also about free will, fighting for humanity as a whole but also their OWN humanity and self-identities. In Dean’s case, the absolutely transformative growth from feeling like nothing but a hammer, a killer, a tool to be used. And then less than an episode and a half later, after finally accepting that truth into his heart and using it to defeat the original creator and reclaim the story of his own life for himself... he gets pied in the face after flippantly talking about his destiny and having no choice, and then three scenes later he literally dies impaled on a great big nail... like a hammer...

So I would kindly ask folks who feel satisfied by that shallowest possible takeaway of this episode, and maybe invite folks to look just under that surface. Try to understand why loads of us will NEVER feel satisfied with this ending, and why it truly does feel like the most hopeless version of the story. Like even in defeating Chuck, they could never be allowed to own their own stories and what happened to them after that point was just a twisted version of the “destiny” that drove Chuck’s entire plotline for them anyway.

Please understand where we’re seeing this as horrifically painful irony rather than some beautiful circular narrative about letting go.

For a lot of us, the shipping stuff would’ve been the cherry on top of the sundae. We would’ve been happy with a scoop of plain vanilla, though. We would’ve been happy for anything that honored the journey to freedom, and the choice at any sort of a different life of their own making than literally falling back on a nail fighting off one of John’s unresolved hunts and a vampire who had literally never been named in canon before, yet who Dean instantly recognized somehow... 

but sure, for those of us who felt that “the heart of the show” was all the stuff that the finale actually erased-- that “family don’t end in blood,” and that this was actually not a show about just two brothers but the love of their found family and coming to terms with the choices they actually HAD made for themselves versus the narrative that Chuck kept centering them in DESPITE what they would choose for themselves, the finale basically told us no, everything you ever found of value in this story actually meant nothing. It told us that Chuck’s story for them was their only truth in the end, and their only freedom was to be found in death.

Please, I am begging people, stop trying to gaslight us that this was some beautiful ending. Maybe think for a second that “your read” of the narrative that allows you to find peace with the ending is not what we saw and loved about this story for the 326 episodes leading up to this finale.

And please try to understand that we were not wrong to see the entire narrative through this lens. Because we were literally validated IN CANON, and told that we understood the depth of the story and the characters just fine, actually. There’s literally ONE episode of the entire series that burns it all down in a bewildering pile of wtf. And that’s #327. That throws that entire read out the window to well actually us all back into Chuck’s literal ending... This was literally the ending Chuck wanted to force them to enact for him, and it’s what ended up happening even after they defeated him-- the ultimate Big Bad of the entire series should’ve been defeated, but instead he pulled off one final victory over the entire story.

Becky: No. You can't-- Chuck: I did. Becky: Y- This is just an ending. Chuck: Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna get there, but I know where I'm goin'. Becky: B-But it's so... dark. Chuck: But great, right? I can see it now -- "Supernatural: The End". And the cover is just a gravestone that says "Winchester". The fans are gonna love it. Well? Becky: It's awful! Horrible. It's hopeless. You can't do this to the fans. What you did to Dean? What you did to Sam? Chuck: There, see? It's making you feel something. That's good, right?

and

Dean: Well, what now? You're not gonna dust us. Chuck: Oh, yeah? Why not? Dean: Because you're holding out. For your big finish. Yeah, we know about your galaxy-brained idea, how you think this story is gonna go. Sam got a little look into your draft folder. Chuck: Sam's visions -- they weren't drafts. They were memories. My memories. Other Sams and other Deans in other worlds. But guess what. Just like you, they didn't think they'd do it, either. But they did. And you will, too. Dean: No. Not this Sam. And not this Dean. So you go back to Earth 2 and play with your other toys. Because we will never give you the ending that you want. Chuck: We'll see.

And even in DEFEAT Chuck thought he understood these characters, thought that having rendered him powerless they would finally take their revenge and kill him, but they didn’t, because he never actually understood these characters at all. And the story he tried to force them into from day one was never about THEM, it was about HIM. 

And then Dean gets like two whole days of freedom and choice and is apparently incapable of making any of the choices that don’t throw him immediately back into Chuck’s favorite story. Like none of that resolution in the previous episode meant anything at all. He even SAYS it in the finale:

Dean: Yeah, no. I think about 'em, too. You know what? That pain's not gonna go away. Right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.

And then two scenes later the show gives us the Nelson Muntz HA HA and Dean is no longer living, and Sam is left to carry on as a shell of himself and wander off into Blurry Wife Land to devote any even remotely content moment of the rest of his years to raising a  Replacement Dean to fill the void, and is never able to pick up the pen to write anything better of his own life than Chuck would’ve dealt him in the first place.

So I’m glad that top-layer takeaway is sustaining and enough for you. It wasn’t, and will never be enough for the rest of us.

What was actually real in all of this? We were.

Until we weren’t.

And that’s honestly a shit message to be pushing on people in the wake of it all. So please stop.

I should actually thank you for the kind intent with which your message is phrased, but that doesn’t make it feel less hilariously awful. Though I chose this one to reply to as the least insulting of all the messages currently in my inbox on this subject. So thanks for that, at least.

#spn 15.20 #aka that one episode of supernatural that doesn't really exist #because you either get to have the first 326 or the finale #they're literally narratively incompatible in all but the shallowest possible takeaway here #i chose the other 326 because those are where the actual heart of the show lies #it was set on fire and buried in 327 #Anonymous

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 3

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Things did not go back to normal.

You’d opened the door Tuesday morning, expecting the usual empty apartment for your next shift. Only, Todoroki had been there again, stretched out on his couch, a book in hand and what looked like an empty tea mug perched on the coffee table next to him. He was in a pair of dark slacks and another soft looking button up, rolled up at the elbows, and he did not look like he was planning on going anywhere.

“Oh, um, is now not a good time?” you asked, freezing in the doorway.

Todoroki looked up from his book, and you took a surprised step back. Damn, he was handsome. Apparently the weekend had dimmed your memory of just how handsome.

“I have the day off,” he said in his low, even tone. “I hope I won’t be in your way.”

You stared. “Oh, no. Just...uh, do your thing.”

He nodded, and you ducked down under the sink to grab your supplies again, then beat a hasty retreat to start in his bedroom while he wasn’t in it. It felt weird being in his room when he was just outside, but you powered through your usual checklist of items, making his bed, sweeping the floor, and wiping down all the furniture. When you got to the ensuite, you couldn’t help but check around for evidence of a secret lover, now that it was a hot topic of discussion, but didn’t find much beyond his sparse collection of toiletries.

It was disappointing that you’d been subjected to so much for a rumor that apparently wasn’t even true.

When you made it back to the kitchen, Todoroki was already there, seated at the island like he meant to talk to you again.

You startled and fumbled the disinfectant. “W-will I be in your way?”

He watched you evenly, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “I did tell you I planned on protecting my countertops.”

You let out a shocked laugh, delighted he’d remembered your conversation from last week. “We’ll see about that, hero. I have my ways.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not to worry, I have a backup plan if careful supervision fails.”

You looked at him curiously, and he produced a thin package in plain brown paper, sliding it across the granite at you like money in a television drug deal. He looked so suspiciously blank while he did it, the whole move almost made you want to laugh.

You settled for staring instead, wondering what he wanted you to do with the package. Were you supposed to put it somewhere? He sensed your confusion and gestured at it with one long-fingered hand.

“For you," he said. "A bribe to ensure the safety of my kitchen surfaces. It seemed to work last time.”

Oh, he meant the tulips. Had he really gotten you something else? Did he really still feel that guilty?

You smiled and waved a brash hand at him. “Oh! You don’t--that isn’t, I mean--you don’t need to give me anything. I meant what I said about calling it even.”

Then you remembered another unnecessary gift he’d given you and stuck your hand in your back pocket, fishing out the leftover tip from last time. “Oh, also this! You gave me too much last time. I took the amount your manager usually leaves.”

Todoroki looked at you strangely. You knew from your ventures on the internet that he was about your age, but he had this way of looking at you like he’d spent a hundred years traveling the world and still found you to be the strangest thing he’d encountered in it. You flushed pink.

“I was given to understand that there were vegetables in need of buying,” he said simply.

You pushed the money at him. “Yeah, which I can do with my normal amount, Todoroki. This is like buy a whole farmer’s market worth of vegetable money.”

He stared blankly at you. “I intended for you to keep it.”

You stared back. Of course he had intended that, but it wasn’t the right amount. Did he not understand how money worked? Why was he being like this?

Todoroki pushed both the package and the money back at you, fixing you with one of the most intent looks you’d ever been on the receiving end of. You felt your cheeks darken. “Last time...I don’t believe we introduced ourselves when we agreed to start over.”

You peered at him curiously. The conversation change seemed abrupt, and strange, like he was trying to distract you from arguing any further. Were you making him uncomfortable?

“Shouto,” he held out a large, long-fingered hand, like he intended for you to shake it.

You reached out hesitantly. His hand was warm, rough with callouses, and something shivery went down your spine when he closed his hand around yours. “Um, Y/N,” you supplied.

“Y/N,” he repeated to himself, and the sound of your name in his mouth fed the weird, shivery feeling. You pulled your hand away from his, and turned to the opposite counter to hide your face from him. God, was it impossible for you to keep your cool around him? Why were you so embarrassing?

Todoroki seemed undeterred by your sudden shyness, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as you worked your way through his kitchen. You wondered at his determination to speak to you, when in the media he seemed so aloof and kind of reclusive. His tone was quiet, and his manner fairly obtuse, as expected, but compared to what you’d heard of him previously, he seemed much kinder.

Todoroki surprised you even further by following up on topics from your previous conversation, which was made all the more embarrassing by the fact that everything he asked about seemed so normal and boring. You wondered why he’d even bothered to ask about the paper you’d complained about last time, when he spent his days literally fighting super villains. Papers were evil, sure, but nothing on the level of actual villains.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, when you failed to respond to his question about your paper.

You shook your head. “Nothing. I was just--surprised that you would ask, is all. Hearing about university has to be boring after everything you do all day.”

You were surprised by a low laugh. “Not really. I’d never considered going--being a hero was all I’d ever given thought to. It’s all my friends ever considered as well. It's...interesting to talk about something that isn't villains or attacks or strategy.”

You thought this over. “Still, though. It can hardly be what you actually want to talk about.”

“It’s...relaxing,” Todoroki allowed. “Thinking about something that is so different from what I do. It’s...nice.”

You thought on this. You couldn’t tell if he was just being nice or if he truly meant it, as he was kind of hard to get a read on, but you supposed if he was telling the truth, you could humor him. Maybe it really was nice to take a break from heroics, to explore other topics of conversation that didn’t carry the weight of human lives on them.

“Well if you really want to know, then my paper’s almost finished,” you said. “The cranky roommate was distracting all weekend so I spent Sunday churning it out in a coffee shop. The fancy one near campus with the nice beans, so it was actually a pretty good time.”

He asked the name of it, and you gave it, wondering if he was into coffee too. He didn’t look like a coffee guy, but then it was hard to tell anything with him. He was so unlike anything you’d expected him to be.

Things got weird again when you finally worked your way over to the island where he’d apparently pushed the money and the brown paper package even closer to you. You stared down at them.

“I’d like for you to accept them,” Todoroki said firmly, once he noticed you looking.

“I didn’t get you anything,” you said, feeling strangely squirmish. “I thought we agreed we’d call it even.”

The look on his face told you he’d agreed to no such thing.

“They’re not apologies,” he said simply. “They’re gifts.”

You looked at him, but he didn’t elaborate any more than that, and your sense of confusion only swelled. What was this all about, really? Was this normal for him? You wondered at the strangeness of the situation you’d found yourself in, and had a hard time concluding what the right thing to do was. Eventually, however, you took a tentative step closer to the counter. Your curiosity about what was in the package was gradually overwhelming your good sense and confusion. Maybe you could accept that and leave the money?

You said as much to him. “This is---really nice of you. I do mean what I said about the tip, though. I can’t accept that,” you mourned the lost vegetables, “but, um, I will accept this? If that’s okay?”

Todoroki looked like he wanted to argue, but at your pointed look, he seemed to reconsider, watching you evenly with those heterochromatic eyes. “Very well,” he said by way of acknowledgement, but something in his tone told you this wasn’t over.

You eyed him. He might be a pro hero and have cash to fling around, but you weren’t a push over. If he thought he’d get his way by arguing more, he was in for a rude awakening. You apparently had no reservations about telling one of the world’s most famous heroes to go fuck himself if pressed. He wasn’t going to win this battle either.

Slowly, you turned back to the brown paper package, carefully sliding a nail under the tape and unwrapping carefully. A fresh copy of your favorite author’s newest book stared up at you, and you couldn’t help the way your fingers clenched down possessively. Oh no.

You gaped at Todoroki. “What--?”

He looked kind of smug, like he knew just how much you liked it. “You mentioned it, last time. You said you liked reading but didn’t have the budget for books during the semester.”

Christ, had he actually been listening the whole damn time? First the vegetables and your paper, and now this? What the hell else had you said to him? What was the fastest way to cause a concussion and make him forget it all? Was this a good enough reason for joining the witness protection program?

“Todoroki, I can’t accept this,” you said.

“You said you would,” he replied. “Am I to assume you lied to me?”

Your mouth dropped open. Was he...teasing you? It was almost impossible to tell with that controlled expression and tone...but there was a glint in his eye that spoke volumes. You’d seen it before, mostly in drunk friends who were about to make mischief. Who would have thought that the notoriously deadpan number four hero had it in him?

“I’m serious,” you said. “This is too much. I loved the flowers, but you seriously don’t need to get me stuff. I know you said they’re gifts but they feel like apologies and I really don’t want that.”

Todoroki watched you closely, then rifled a hand through that red and white mop of hair. “I propose a trade for it, then, if you won’t accept it as a gift.”

You peered at him in curiosity.

“You will call me Shouto in return,” he said.

You let out a flat laugh. “That’s hardly an even deal. Be serious.”

“I am serious,” he replied, something like annoyance flecking his deep tone. He took a breath. “But one other condition, then, if you insist.”

You wondered what else he would ask for if his first request had been so ridiculous. Your first born child, maybe? A dress spun of moonlight? For you to solve these riddles three?

“Your phone number,” he said. “I’d like to text you.”

You gaped at him. He wanted what now?

“Todoroki, a name and a phone number are not payment for a gift like this,” you said slowly, trying to ignore the way your brain was rapidly entering what the fuck mode. He couldn’t be serious. “You need to trade for something you’d actually like.”

“Have you considered,” he said, “that I might like to be your friend?”

You stopped short. Oh that was...so straightforward. And also kind of nice? And also really cute?

You suddenly felt guilty for staring at him like he was a fool to ask. Was he really trying to be your friend? Was this just how deadpan rich boys did things?

“Oh, um, no,” you admitted. “I hadn’t, uh, considered. But I would like that. Being your friend.”

A slow warmth pooled in your fingertips at the idea. You did not understand this man at all, but you liked the little ironic sense of humor that sat under all the rest of it. And the way he’d apologized and had listened to your ramblings and was currently trying to befriend you was actually really sweet. You would actually like to be his friend, if that’s what he really wanted.

“Then my name and your phone number is my trade,” he said firmly.

You nodded slowly. There was a vague sense in the back of your mind like you’d just been tricked somehow, but you didn’t explore it. He’d seemed straightforward enough...right?

He handed off his phone to you for you to plug your number in, and you wondered wildly what your life was now, and what exactly Shouto Todoroki thought the two of you were going to text about.

Todoroki also hovered over you as you added him to your contacts, making sure he displayed as his first name specifically, and you laughed. “What if I know another Shouto?”

“Then you can change his contact to his family name,” Todoroki said dryly.

You huffed a laugh. Straightforward was definitely the right word for him.

After that, you fell into a somewhat easier conversation, buoyed by the knowledge that Todoroki intended to make friends. He asked you more about your life as a student, particularly interested in your thoughts on the books you’d read for lecture, your impressions of your professors this year, and your schedule and favorite haunts between classes.

In return, he shared details of his own work, stories of his time at UA, and details on some of his friends whose personal effects you’d seen around his apartment. It was so interesting to hear about the pros from someone who actually knew them personally, and it gave them dimension you would have never assigned to them yourself. It was certainly news to you that Katsuki Bakugou was a top-tier cook and could actually stop swearing and sit still long enough to make something.

You cleaned as you talked, and then found yourself lingering a little longer even after your shift had finished, enraptured by the conversation. Todoroki was so weirdly easy to talk to for someone who gave the impression of being so quiet and withdrawn, and coupled with his good looks and honest nature, it made him almost too charming.

Eventually, though, you could feel the phantom fingers of your uncompleted homework clawing at the back of your mind, and bade him a goodnight. This evening too, however, he insisted on an agency car, and moved like he would have literally shouldered the door closed on you when you started towards it before a car arrived. Then you again found yourself bundled into the back of a car, this time with a book stuffed into your hands and a vague sense of disorientation floating after you.

As you shed your jacket and backpack in the doorway of your apartment, you got a text from him as well. Goodnight, Y/N, it read, just as simple and straightforward as you would have expected from him.

You stared down at your phone for a long time, bewildered by the strange turn of events that had shaped your life these past weeks.

Shouto Todoroki had gotten you a book. Shouto Todoroki had an actual personality. Shouto Todoroki wanted to be your friend.

It seemed that after your kidnapping, returning to normal had not been an option.

If the warmth on your cheeks was any indication, you weren't so disappointed to find that out.

#shouto todoroki x reader #bnha #todoroki x reader #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #shouto todoroki

[pitviperofdoom]

I really liked your 'Life Preserver' excerpt and I'd love to read more about it. I liked the interaction between Gerry and Georgie, their characterization and Gerry's description of his relationship with Jon, plus this exchange: “He thinks your mum’s a homophobe, you know.”“You know, he’s probably right? Think she might just hate the idea of love in general, though.”“Messy divorce, I take it,”“Rohypnol and garden shears were involved, so yeah, I’d say it was pretty messy.”

Thanks!

Yeah, Gerry and Georgie surprised me as a really interesting dynamic to explore. In spite of Georgie’s caution around the Entities, Gerry just feels like the kind of person Georgie would get along with, given the people she canonically ends up loving.

Anyway here’s another part I’ve written! This one actually has Jon and Gerry in it.

---

When Jon went in for his next shift, things went smoothly enough to be genuinely suspicious. Tina was his desk partner again, and she greeted him with the same cordiality as always. No one official-looking ever came by to speak with him.

The only hint that anything had happened that night was a campus-wide e-mail paying respects to Daniel Lattimer, one of the subject librarians, who was reported as having “passed unexpectedly”. The message held all of the usual official platitudes and nothing else; Jon had read it word for word several times to be sure.

Someone should have known, shouldn’t they? It wasn’t as if he had been careful about covering his tracks, beyond making his tip anonymous. The library had cameras. He was sure he’d left at least a few shoe prints in all the blood.

But nothing came of it. The first hour passed peacefully, with nothing more exciting than a couple of patrons he had to inform of overdue books.

Jon spotted the familiar dark figure out of the corner of his eye, even before Tina hissed a warning at him. He raised his head to watch Gerard Keay’s approach, chest suddenly tight with nervousness.

How on earth was he supposed to explain this?

“Hey.” Gerard was in front of him already, leaning his elbows on the desk as usual. “Any word on that book? I tried to come in yesterday, but you were closed.”

“R-right.” Jon hesitated. There were several ways he could answer this. He could, of course, be utterly truthful and tell him that he’d burned the thing on account of it being made of meat and killing one of the librarians. He almost laughed at the thought. At worst, Gerard would complain to someone about Jon being unhelpful; at best, he’d find it funny, but he’d demand a real answer once he was done laughing about it.

He could lie and stall by saying that the book was still on its way. But that was a temporary fix at best, and it would only lead Gerard to keep coming in and asking.

And would that really be so bad? Jon shook his head to clear away the thought.

“Right,” he said again. “A-about that. Unfortunately—” He slipped his bandaged hand behind the desk, out of sight. “—we were unable to find the book in storage. It seems to have been marked incorrectly. It happens sometimes. Though not very often, I assure you,” he added hastily. “But it’s been marked down as missing, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Gerard’s face was the very picture of disappointment. “That’s a shame. Really did need that one.”

“Terribly sorry for the inconvenience.” Jon tried to sound like he meant it.

It was hard to force down the sheer, overwhelming relief. Just last night he’d regretted his own paranoia, but now? If he hadn’t gone back, if he hadn’t checked for the book…

Well, the library might not have been closed yesterday. And he didn’t have the first shift at the circulation desk. And whoever did might have been someone who didn’t know, someone who wasn’t haunted by the name Jurgen Leitner, who might have taken the book from the cart and handed it straight over—

The unwelcome memory of Mr. Lattimer’s body rose up behind his eyes, juxtaposed over the young man standing before him.

As a child, he’d doomed someone else to a gruesome death that should have been his. So maybe this time… maybe he’d actually…

“Well then,” said Gerard, shaking him out of his bubble of thoughts. “Guess that’s—er, guess I’ll look elsewhere…”

“Right,” said Jon. “Unless there was anything else you needed…?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

“No, thanks, that’s it,” said Gerard, already turning away. “Thanks for all the help.”

“Oh, I hardly—I mean, I didn’t really do much, in the end.”

Gerard regarded him for a moment, head tilted to one side with a thoughtful look. Then, quite without warning, he smiled at him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You were great.”

“O-of course,” Jon stammered as Gerard turned to leave again. “Oh, wait—wait a moment.”

Gerard looked back. “Yeah?”

Jon dug into his pocket, pulling out the lighter. “Is this yours?” he asked, placing it on the desk. “I found it on one of the tables in the reading room, and I remembered you had it the other day…”

Instead of taking it, Gerard simply flashed him one last grin. “Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got loads.”

“It’s really not good to keep ignition sources in a library,” Jon protested, feeling inordinately flustered.

Gerard laughed, a brief, bright thing, and—

“D’you want to get coffee?” Jon blurted out.

The smile froze on Gerard’s face, before giving way to surprise. “What?”

A stab of terror nearly robbed Jon of his words, before he found his voice again and forged ahead. “Do you—I mean. Do you want to get coffee sometime?” he repeated. Shit. Shit, he was doing this, how was he already doing this? “With me?” He wanted to kick himself, of course he’d know he meant it that way. “I—my shift ends at noon today. If you’re free. I-if you want to, I mean.”

Gerard blinked at him, so utterly bewildered that it might have been funny if Jon’s heart weren’t currently climbing into his throat. “You—wait. Is this… are you asking me on a date?”

He said it so incredulously, as if the idea that Jon would ask him on a date were utterly incomprehensible to him. Rapidly, Jon’s heart sank back down.

“Yes,” Tina leapt in helpfully. “He is. Aren’t you, Jon?”

She nudged him none too gently. “Y-yes,” he said, because it wasn’t as if he could dig himself any deeper. “That—that was the intention.”

“Huh.” Gerard shrugged. “Sure.”

The whiplash made Jon dizzy for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah. Noon, right? See you then.” With that, he turned and walked out of the library.

Once he was out of sight, Jon slumped over onto the surface of the desk like a marionette with its strings cut.

Tina patted his back. “Proud of you. Go get that goth D.”

***

It wasn’t that Gerry didn’t know it was a terrible idea—just that he’d had worse ones before. He was still breathing after years of them, in fact. So what was one more?

Jon the librarian was far from the first scarred survivor he’d ever met. They weren’t common, precisely, but nor were they unheard of. Technically he was one, and Mum had been as well, before she carved herself up.

But Gerry knew he was an outlier, and as rare as surviving one brush with the Fears was, meeting two of the things and escaping uneaten from both was on a level of its own. But against all odds, when he looked at the wispy little librarian who’d spent the past week being so divertingly helpful, Gerry could see two separate, distinct marks on him, where there had previously been only one. And they really were distinct from one another. The Flesh was like a shark sometimes, content to take one good bite before losing interest and wandering off, while the wisps of the Web still clung jealously. A scar like that could have been left years ago or the day before they met. You could never tell with the Web.

That added to the risk, of course. For all he knew, this was some ploy from the Mother of Puppets to catch him and draw him in. A little cliche, maybe, but Gerry couldn’t fault it for its efficacy.

He’d said yes, after all.

In his defense, it wasn’t every day he met someone with a nice face, a taste for burning Leitners, and enough luck or fortitude to walk away from two different Powers. Nor was it every day a person like that asked him to… well…

People didn’t flirt with him, was the thing. Anyone who knew enough to be worth talking to either wised up and ran the other way, or turned around and tried to take a chunk out of him.

So, yeah. Might as well give it a shot. See what it was like, while he had the chance.

He had til noon to brace himself, anyway. Not enough time to go back to Mum’s and freshen up, which was a shame. She’d just faded out a couple of days ago, so he knew he’d have the place to himself.

Ah, well.

In spite of himself, Gerry found himself turning his face upward with a grin and an excited spring in his step. It’d be a bit like traveling abroad, or visiting tourist traps, or all the other things he indulged in when Mum was gone. See as much of the world beyond his own as he could, before she finally fucked up and got him killed.

A date! Who’d have thought he’d get to check that one off the bucket list?

#tma fic #jongerry #jonathan sims #gerard keay #safe harbor au #tales from the pit #lady-with-a-deathwish

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 3431

Warnings: None

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

_________________________

Pt 9 - Birthday Cash (part 2)

"Our world is changing. Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted six such children. I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy." Reginald Hargreeves announces on the stairs of the bank

The six children stand behind him in two orderly rows of three as he addresses the reporters who were at the scene.

"Mr. Hargreeves, channel 9 news. What happened to their parents?" One reporter asks

"They were suitably compensated," Reginald responds

"Are you concerned about the welfare of the children?" Another reporter questions

"Of course, as I am for the fate of the world."

The cameras keep rolling and the reporters continue to ask question but Mr. Hargreeves had said what needed to be said. Quietly, he walks down the steps of the bank and the children follow behind to make their way back home. When the children arrive back home they line up in the front hall just as they had done before leaving. Reginald turns his attention to them and comments,

"You were able to stop these criminals, but you can be quicker and more efficient. With more practice and more missions, you'll possibly be able to bring your performance up from your mediocre level to something more impressive."

Reginald then turns around and leaves the children to go to his office. When he is out of earshot the children start to talk with each other.

"I got covered in blood, on my birthday, to be called mediocre," Ben complains

"We all just got call mediocre on our birthday, Ben," Allison responds

"Yeah, but at least you didn't get a criminal blood facial," Ben replies "I'm going to take a shower."

Ben then walks away from his siblings, heading to the bathroom hoping that he can get all the leftover blood off him. Luther takes a look at Ben walking away before turning back to the remaining Hargreeves children and saying,

"There's no need for us to get hung up on that mediocre thing, he didn't mean it. I mean you heard what dad said with more practice and missions we'll become better. It's like tough encouragement."

"I think there is something off with your hearing because I'm pretty sure that's not what he meant,"  Diego replies

'Well as number 1 I think I would know what dad means." Luther remarks

"You might be number one but least I don't have my head so far up my butt that I can't see when I'm being insulted." Diego retorts

Noticing that they were about to fight, Klaus puts himself in between his two brothers and pushes them apart from each other.

"Listen, guys, it's still our birthday! The day isn't over yet and remember (Y/N) is going to come over later!" Klaus exclaims "This may or may not be the day some of you had hoped for but it's going to get better! Now, how about we just all try to be nice for the day?"

Diego and Luther look at each other before nodding in agreement. With the potential argument resolved the children decide to head their separate ways and try to occupy themselves for the day until you arrived.

You on the other hand had been busy at home since you and your family got back from the bank. The first thing your parents did was to make you take a shower to get all the blood off of you. Your parents were absolutely shell shocked from the whole experience and you covered in another person's blood was not helping to make it any better. Once you were clean and had put on a different pair of clothes your mother immediately threw out the ones you had been in. When you came downstairs you saw both of your parents in the kitchen. Approaching them you say,

"Are you two going to be okay?"

"Uh, yeah sweetie we'll be fine. We just need to get some rest." Your dad says a glass of wine in his hand

"Is that to help you rest dad?" You ask gesturing to the glass

"Yes." He replies curtly

Your mom escorts your dad towards the stairs but before the two of them can walk upstairs to their room you ask,

"Hey mom, dad, do you think I can go to a friend's house for the night? They live down the block and they wanted to celebrate my birthday with me."

Your two parents look at each other and then back at you.

"Yeah, of course, sweetie, just let us know when you're leaving." Your mom says

"Okay!" you reply

Your mother and father then make their way up the stairs to their room. As soon as you hear the door close you go downstairs to the practice room that they had built for you. In there you had been hiding the gifts that you had gotten for all of the Hargreeves kids. You had heard from Five that they had never gotten presents on their birthday before and you wanted to change that. You had used the allowance money you had saved up over the months to get them gifts that they would enjoy. You knew they would probably like anything you got them but you wanted to make sure that each gift was extra special. Taking your time you wrapped each individual one and wrote a special note to each of the kids. You had finished all the gifts for each Hargreeves sibling except for the one that mattered most to you, Five. For the longest time you had no clue what to get him but this morning you were given the perfect gift. Realizing that you hadn't brought it down with you from your room you head back upstairs to go get it. As you pass your parents room you can hear them talking,

"How did she know how to do that?" Your dad asks

"Her powers?" Your mom asks back

"No, the kicking the man and stabbing him. Where could she have learned that?" He replies

"I don't know, but I don't think she meant it with malintent. She was trying to protect herself and us." Your mom says

"I know. I just, it was surprising. We never see her practice her powers so I guess I wasn't really ready to see the full extent of them in action." Your dad says defeat in his tone

"I get it, but she's still ours. Let's just get some rest and hopefully, things will feel back to normal soon." Your mom replies

Slowly you make your way to your room. We're your parents upset with you? Did they not like your powers? It's not like you could get rid of them even if you tired. They were just part of you. Confronting your parents isn't going to make things better so you decide to ignore it for now, no matter how much it weighed on your mind. Today was your day and you were going to make the best of it with your friends. Heading over to your desk you grab the two lockets that are used to unlock the diary replica that you got and a recent picture of yourself. Running back downstairs you cut out your head from the recent picture of you and put it in one of the lockets. You then put that locket in a tiny box and wrap it up with a nice ribbon. You then put the other locket on but hide it under your shirt so I can't be seen. With all the presents wrapped up, you bring them upstairs and shout to your parents,

"I'm heading out!"

You don't hear a reply and assume that the two of them have fallen asleep after the events of the morning and early afternoon. Grabbing all the gifts you make your way across the street through the gate and use your foot to knock on the front door. Typically you would just phase through to let yourself in but you were holding too many bags to phase yourself and everything else properly. When the door opened Grace was standing there and said,

"Oh hello (Y/N)! Happy birthday!"

"Thank you!" You reply with a wide grin as you entered the house

Grace then calls out to the children and says,

"Children, (Y/N) is here!"

Within seconds you can hear the rushing of footsteps coming from all sides of the house. Five is the first one there as he flashes in front of you rather than run like everyone else but the rest of the siblings arrive soon after. They all greet you excitedly and everyone exchanges happy birthday wishes.

"Are those presents?" Grace asks

"Yup, I got stuff for each one of you." You reply looking towards the seven siblings

"Wow! We actually get presents this year! Best birthday ever!" Luther exclaims

"Well, why don't we all make our way into the parlor and everyone can open their gifts." Grace directs

You and the Hargreeves children make your way into the parlor and all take a seat on different couches. You walk around handing out the presents to each one of the siblings except for Five. You wanted that one to be a surprise. When you finish you sit back down next to Five who looks at you confused. Quietly you whisper,

"Don't worry, you'll get yours later."

Five nods and turns his head back towards all his siblings who are quickly ripping the paper off their gifts. Excitedly you watch as the kids one by one open up their gifts from you. You watched the eyes of each sibling light up at the sight of what you had gotten them. Each gift for them contained a surface level present and then one that was more personal.

For Luther, you had gotten him a book about positive leadership but also a phone number for a local jewelry store. Although it was still a bit confusing, he had legitimate feelings for Allison and he had confided that he wanted to give her something special to show his feelings. What better to get someone than a piece of jewelry.

For Allison, you had gotten her Avril Lavigne's Let Go album and the red lip gloss that Alicia Keys was sporting recently but also a cast signed copy of the My Big Fat Greek Wedding movie script. Deep down Allison didn't want to be a superhero she wanted to be an actress and you wanted to show her that you believed she could get there.

For Klaus, you got him an ouija board because he was always saying how he wished he could get used to his power by making it fun but you also had gotten him some nail polish. You always took notice of how he eyed the nail polish in Allison's room with a longing look in his eyes. More important than becoming more comfortable with his powers you wanted him to be able to become more comfortable with himself.

For Vanya, you had given her a folder of sheet music for the violin and some pieces to duet you on the piano. You had also gifted her a miniature trophy in the shape of a number one inscribed with the words "Your individuality is more special than any power". Vanya had always felt like the rejected child of the bunch since she didn't have any powers but you knew otherwise. Vanya might not have had powers but nonetheless she was worth appreciation and you wanted to show her that.

For Ben, you only got him one gift. You had gotten Ben a journal to write in. If his siblings actually took the time to sit and listen to him they would realize how calm and poetic his thoughts were. He was a kind soul with a lot of wonderful thoughts to express and you knew that. What made the journal more personal though was the quote you had written on the inside. "May the darkness within you find peace in the light". He was uncomfortable with the power he had. It was such a polar opposite to who he was as a person and he sometimes questioned why he had to be born with such darkness inside of him. You knew that but you wanted to reassure him that he was more than his power and hoped that by writing his feelings down in the journal he could find his peace in the light of his true existence.

And then there was Diego. For Diego, you had gotten him a brand new set of knives. You watched as he opened the case and saw the shiny set inside. They were completely silver in color with a line of holes going down the center. You saw him lift one of them up and admire it.

"They're extremely light so there's less air resistance when you redirect them. They're also more durable. Even I can't manipulate them...yet." You explain to him

You saw Diego look down in the case again and then back up at you. A smile was on his face but you could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

"They're just knives Diego, no need to get emotional," Luther comments

It wasn't the knives he was getting emotional at though. Inside the case was also a pronunciation dictionary.  You knew there would be times where Grace or you weren't there to help him but you wanted to make sure that he never felt alone when it came to his stutter. Five was your best friend that you adored out of the Hargreeves siblings but Diego had become the only one who felt like a true sibling to you. Sure, all of the members of the Hargreeves family became like family to you, minus Reginald, but when it came to Diego he was your brother. With this pronunciation dictionary, you wanted to show him that you were his sister and you'd be there to support him even if you couldn't physically be present with him. Each of the siblings then thanks you for their presents. Their thank yous though were stated in such a way that it acknowledged the basic gifts everyone knew about but also expressed their gratitude for the more personal ones they received.

"Thank you, I think this gift will really help me," Luther says

"I can't believe you remembered how much this meant to me!" Allison exclaims

"This is really going to help me learn more about myself." Klaus comments

"I'm going to appreciate my gift forever." Vanya states

"The words in this journal will always mean a lot." Ben acknowledges

"I'll always keep this with me..." Diego whispered emotion still prevalent in his voice

The 6 siblings then got up with their gifts and made their way to their rooms to put them away. When the siblings had left Five asks,

"Want to go sit in the courtyard?"

"Sure!" You reply

The two of you race out to the courtyard and you two down on a bench. It was the exact same bench he had pushed you over the first day you met. Five turns to look at you and says,

"That stuff you did at the bank today was really impressive. Kebobing that man on the flagpole was really smart."

"Thanks but I think you were more impressive. Switching the gun with a stapler, now that's some quick thinking." You comment

The two of you smile and laugh for a bit at each other's praise, each of you thinking it wasn't as impressive as the other was making it out to be. Soon enough though a silence falls between you.

"Hey (Y/N)?" Five says

"Yeah?" You reply

"Thank you for saving me earlier today. None of saw the guy coming. If it wasn't for you, I don't know what would've happened. I do have to ask though how did you blow that guy's head clean off."

"I don't know. I had no time to think about it, I just knew I had to stop the man from harming you." You explain

Another silence falls over the two of you. Five knew that you had saved his life and he could barely find the words to thank you for it. If something went wrong on your end you could've gotten hurt and yet you risked your life anyway to save him. He was glad everything went right but he could help but worry about the possibility of you getting hurt or killed. He didn't know what he would do without you. You were more than he could ever want and need in a best friend and the thought that he could've lost you floated around in his mind. Five is pulled out of his thoughts though when you say,

"Oh here's your birthday gift."

You pull a tiny box with a ribbon out of your pocket and hand it to him. Carefully he undoes the ribbon and opens the box. Inside he sees a heart-shaped locket.

"Let me explain the gift really quickly. So you recall the princess diaries movie that I've made you watch so many times?"

"Yes." Five responds

"And you remember the diary from it right?"

"How could I not you always talked about how cool it is." He jokes

"Well, my parents got me an exact replica of the diary and it has the same unlocking mechanism where you have to use the locket to open the diary. So I want you to have this since you're the only other person I trust other than myself to have access to it." You explain

"(Y/N) this is such an honor, but how will you open it if I'm not with you?" Five questions

"That's the other part." You say pulling the locket you were wearing already out from under your shirt "My parents gave me two so now we can match."

Taking his locket out of the box he opened it up and saw a picture of you inside it. Five truly loved his gift from you and put it on around his neck. Now he could keep you with him wherever he went.

"Can I give you your gift now?" He asks

"My gift? You got something for me?" you question

"Of course, it's your birthday too after all." He replies

"My gift isn't you pushing me of the bench again is it?" You joke

"No, it's not," Five laughs before saying, "Just wait here."

Five then flashes away but comes back a moment later holding a tiny gift bag in his hands. Holding the gift bag out he says,

"This is for you."

Five sits down next to you as you carefully take the tissue paper out of the bag. Reaching in your hand you pull out a beautiful music box. Opening it a tiny figure of two people dancing spins around as the music plays.

"I saw it and it reminded me of that time we danced together and I hoped it would remind you too." He comments

"Five, it's so beautiful. Thank you!" You say placing the gift gently back down in its bag

When you know the music is safe in the bag you place the bag on the ground and then proceed to hug him. You cherished the gift he had gotten you but more so you cherished him. Five hugs you back for a moment but then pulls back. He looks directly into your eyes as you look back into his blue ones. You could not tell who started first both of you start to lean into each other a bit. Before you two could get close though you can hear Luther exclaim excitedly from the doorway.

"Hey, guys! Grace was allowed to make us a cake this year! Come get some before it's gone!"

The two of you quickly pull away from each other.

"Uh, let's go get some cake." Five suggests

"Yeah, let's do it." You say grabbing your gift bag from him

The two of you head inside to the kitchen where everyone is waiting around the table to eat cake. Grace places eight candles on the cake for each one of you to blow out. As the cake was dished out you thought about how much you enjoyed getting to celebrate with all of the Hargreeves kids, especially Five. You didn't know it then but it would be the first and last time you would all celebrate together for a while because one argument would change the course of all of your lives.

Taglist: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @eddiomyspaghettio @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind @vicassa @2cuteforyourlies

#five #five hargreeves #five x reader #five x you #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five headcanons #five hargreeves headcanons #ua five #tua five #tua five hargreeves #ua five hargreeves #umbrella academy five #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x reader #tua #ua #tua fic idea #tua2 #ua2 #tua luther #tua allison #tua diego #tua klaus #tua ben #tua vanya #5 hargreeves

[irkenheretic]

ok fella, go off on your au and talk about red’s video game and why it’s important to his character arc but also try to stay out of spoiler land. Also as a bonus + describe red’s role in that au with a vine

ok so a schimillion years ago a videogame called anarchisma was released and completely redefined an entire genre and nothing was ever the same again

ok let me explain a little more

a genre of irken videogame is the "rebel sim." basically a game that has a very anti-empire slant to it, ranging from surface-level critiques to extremely controversial ideas in it. it doesnt have to be a simulation game (the genre of "rebel sim" predates the lifesim, an extremely immersive VR game with time-dilation properties so it feels like youre experiencing years of gameplay in real-time, but in reality its been an hour) but thats just what theyre called

to this day, many popular rebelsims (especially those released by established companies and not indie devs) play their stories extremely safe, diluting the genre from a true expression of anarchism to a sort-of vent about the little frustrations of irken life, without an actual rallying cry or call to action or really anything daring about them. back when anarchisma came out, this was mainly seen via the stories being very surface-level and safe, picking a couple scattered issues and not really exploring them other than going "hey.... did you know.... that x thing.... is bad?" (i.e. a short scientist being brushed aside despite their skillset and the fact that they meet the height requirements for their job, as opposed to stating that height requirements for prestigious jobs shouldnt exist at all.)

enter anarchisma. at first you play as a lil' dude named myx, a short engineer. he has a friend named thirteen-13 that follows him around, and myx as a protagonist goes thru the game in a very "safe" way, following the conventions of your period-typical rebelsim that acts smarter than it really is... except for one thing. he keeps referring to thirteen-13 as the "dhar bitae," an irken term meaning "all-seeing..." and the period-typical slang for the control brains

once myx's route is over and done with, you're able to play as thirteen-13. and thats where the real game starts.

thirteen-13, in the game world, is the equivalent to the control brains- he's a computer that ruled over the fictional world but was kept under strict lock and key by his technicians. every time he escaped or was deemed "too defective," a new "instance" of him was reloaded, hence the number at the end of his name. thirteen is his name, and 13 is the instance number. and oh yeah! due to a loophole where he's a computer and not an irken per se, he's actually the first canonically defective character in all irken media!

needless to say the game was pretty controversial when it came out but it also redefined the entire genre. thirteen-13's plot gave rise to the "rebel ruler" trope, a trope that is very common in rebelsims to this day but watered down beyond belief- in anarchisma it works because theres a REASON thirteeen-13 couldnt just fix everything with his vast power: the societal ills the game addresses were around long before any iteration of thirteen, and they're going to be around long after he's gone. it's a bleak game with themes of powerlessness, futility, and imprisonment in an abstract way- when your enemy is a system of ideals and not one lone person, how do you fight?

anarchisma was the first game red played as a smeet. deemed defective and cast away from everything he'd ever known, a rejected smeet only kept alive because his outpost couldn't afford to kill him, this game was red's lifeline. like i said, thirteen-13 was a revolutionary character in that he was defective and proud of it- and that was what kept red alive during all the horrible things that happened to him in his smeethood.

due to the nature of irken videogames, especially irken indie videogames, there are a lot of conspiracies surrounding it. irken videogames tend to be heavily influenced by their developer's real-life experiences, and while this is not always the case, there were some... speculations on the plot of the game and its enigmatic developer. nobody knows anything about this guy so its impossible to confirm or deny if this was pulled from real-life or if he just made all of it up, so a lot of people got obsessive with the game's messaging, and wether or not the developer was trying to tell the populace something with it.

red was one of those people.

the idea that the control brains themselves wouldn't, couldn't, didn't hate him for existing... he was young, and didn't know anything about the world. of course it appealed to him!

as he grows up, his relationship to the game itself and the theories surrounding it becomes distant. he tucks his old comms unit he got from his outpost away- the only thing old enough to play this game; it's too old to run on modern systems. he stops reading theories. he has a nightly audience with the control brains, and he never even so much as looks for evidence about the theory. is he just trying to protect himself? he insists he's not defective; does he know, deep down? does he know that the "treatments" never worked, and he's always going to be defective? is it too risky for him to attempt to find the answer? is he scared of the answer?

and if he is, which is he scared of more?

being wrong...

or being right?

#you: go off #me: OF COURSE QUEEN HERES MY DISSERTATION <3 #anarchisma au #but yeah this whole thing with red and the videogame is the 'core' so to speak of the au #theres a LOT more but yeah . mother fucking viddy game #hhhopefully this wasnt spoilery but yeah #if this is interesting at all to anyone.... thats what anarchisma (the au) is about . read it <3 #when it comes out of course <3 #now calling the tallest #also fun facts anarchisma the game was nominated for basically the in-universe equivalent of game of the year #it didnt win due to the.... extremely conterversial nature of the plot #that snub was wildly regarded as a 'dick move' #it didnt win ANY awards even tho like #even (SOME) people that hated the game and thought it blasphemous to the empire #agreed it shouldve won best music at LEAST

[where-dreamers-go]

“Hearts, Fangs, And Knifes” Spn Gabriel x Reader

(A/N: Based and extended version of my Imagine: Getting hit by a cupid’s arrow while out on a hunt. Did I just write an investigation and hunt?? Didn’t think I’d be doing that, but okay—cool! I hope you enjoy. I’m also double checking that Pages doesn’t change Dean to Bean…again.

Warnings: Canon violence, language, and death. Some angst.

Word Count: 4,767 Words)

“It’s not a simple salt and burn anymore. It probably wasn’t even that to begin with.” You said as you fought the urge to lean on the Chevy Impala, tired.

“Maybe we should check the house again. We could have missed something,” Sam suggested.

Dean crossed his arms and said, “I’m thinking that lady at the diner lied through her teeth.” He looked down to his bloodied shoes.

There had been more than just a haunting, but none of you had seen the attacker clear enough. Which was why you had called Gabriel for back up and assistance since Castiel was busy.

Subconsciously, you rubbed your shoulder. Being that it dislocated earlier, you were still wary even if it was popped back in place.

“Then looks like we’re going to the diner for some milkshakes and a liar,” Gabriel mused.

“I owe you one.” You gestured to your shoulder and the archangel winked.

“Alright. We’ll go.” Dean said. “Grab a dem—….the hell?” His eyes looked somewhere behind you.

Before you could glance over your shoulder, something nailed you from behind. A warmth filled your chest and a lightness filled your limbs.

The boys cursed and you heard them unlock their guns.

“(Y/N)?” Gabriel called softly and hid your face in his chest as he embraced you.

“Get over here!” Dean’s voice shouted from further away.

“Gabe…”

“Shh…”

“What was it?”

He didn’t answer.

“What was it?”

Sam quickly said two words that lead to Gabriel tightening his hold on you.

“A cupid.”

You took in an uneasy breath.

“Get your feathered ass over here!” Dean’s voice was anything but comforting.

With much effort, you pulled out of Gabriel’s arms. You faced the cupid who donned a casual look, jeans and such.

Neither Dean nor Sam lowered their weapons as they tracked the cupid’s movements. The eldest Winchester had closed in on the cupid, keeping a minimum two paces of a distance.

“You’d think humans would be happy to see me.” The cupid said.

“Gabriel,” Sam said and the archangel behind you immediately had his angel blade in hand.

“Oh,” the cupid smirked. “Didn’t know it was you, brother.” They walked over to the group with a languid swagger. “Makes this…a little better.

Gabriel’s eyebrows set in a deep frown and pulled you to his side.

“That’s close enough,” Dean ordered. His green eyes glaring at the cupid.

Still with a smirk, the cupid stopped walking.

“Did you have orders to mark (Y/N)’s heart?” Gabriel took a step forward in a ready stance.

“What, you haven’t been listening, brother?”

“Answer the question.” Dean growled.

“Why? It’s been done.”

Your fingernails dug into your palms.

Why? What’s the whole point? This shouldn’t be happening.

Your feelings for Gabriel had quadrupled. Keeping your feelings at bay and hardly detectable was a skill built over years of practice. That was how you dealt with having a massive crush beyond crushes on an archangel. What you were feeling as you stood there two blocks from the motel and a short drive to the ghost’s house was unavoidable. What you were feeling less than two steps from Gabriel was greatly alarming.

“What do you know about me?” You asked the cupid.

By the look in their eyes they weren’t expecting you to speak let alone that question. The cupid rested on their heels.

“Just that you run around with the Winchesters and Castiel and causing unnecessary problems in Heaven.”

“Anything else?” You pressed.

They shrugged.

“This isn’t a game.” Sam said to the cupid. “Why’d you do it?”

“Why not?” The angel looked to Gabriel, grinning. “Does it bother you, brother?” An angel blade appeared in their grip.

“It does bother me,” Gabriel leaned forward.

You swallowed. The energy in the air was dangerously thick.

Eyes flickered between the two angels.

“Who else did you mark?” Dean asked, losing his patience.

“Who says I completed the match?” He looked to you. “Can a human handle a lifetime of unrequited love?”

Your jaw locked.

“Have fun hunting.”

In a flutter of wings and a sickening grin, the cupid had left.

It took more than a few moments before the Winchesters and Gabriel begun lowering their weapons and putting them out of sight.

Even with the cupid gone. They left more concern and questions for the brothers and Gabriel.

You exhaled, clearing your mind the best you could.

“I think….I think we should go back to the house tomorrow. It’s getting late.”

The boys and archangel had looks of confusion.

“(Y/N)…,” Sam’s voice was calm.

“Come on.” You walked passed them and went to the Impala. Thoughts focused to the hunt, you refused to give your heart the satisfaction of daydreaming nor of the added feelings in you. There was still a monster in town.

Things to do. People to save.

So much for a short hunt.

The drive back to the motel was short and crammed with unspoken words. That didn’t mean that you missed the looks that the men were giving one another nor the quiet glances to you in the backseat. You had all but tuned everyone and everything out as you watched the lights of the motel come into view.

Once out of the car, you were already fishing your key out of the pocket.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning.” You said as you went towards your room. “Night.”

Both Winchesters wished you goodnight. Concern layered in their tones as opposed to the casual ‘goodnight’s.

Once you were alone in your motel room you locked the door.

You sighed. You could have been sitting in the car on the way back from a completed hunt, and on your way out of town by now.

There just had to be a rogue-ticked-off cupid, didn’t there? Still getting over the last hunt. You thought as you took off your shoes. This one was supposed to be easy and short. But no. Freakin’ complicating things more.

Again, you sighed. Think of something else. Colors, narration, something.

So you did. You preoccupied your mind with the present—what you were doing and nothing else. Going to take a shower, you had hoped that there would be enough hot water to ease your muscles. There wasn’t. Not for long anyway.

Mindlessly sitting on the bed in your sleepwear, you ate a snack. Every so often you were mentally yelling and switching to a song any time your thoughts started veering towards anything love or cupid related.

Just need to get through this case. Maybe it’s two cases in one? You thought as you continued eating. Can get that waitress at the diner to talk. Maybe we can catch her in the afternoon or something. Owe Gabriel a milksha—

A flutter of wings was immediately accompanied by Gabriel as he appeared in the middle of the motel room.

“Were you listening?”

“You’ve hardly said a word since being marked. Is it wrong for me to be worried?” Gabriel walked to the end of the bed and took a seat.

“No.” You ate more of the snack, getting your focus away from your heart.

He watched you behind honey-colored eyes.

“At least we know that the monster we’re after has super speed. Narrows it down some. They’re strong too.”

“(Y/N).”

“What?”

He pulled your snacks out of your reach. Eyes boring into your head.

You felt your resolve softening, but you kept your thoughts cluttered or clear. It switched any time it revolved too close to your heart.

“You’re not eating my snacks and you’re going to get frown lines, Gabe.” You sighed. “If this is about the cupid having a mini tantrum….I don’t want to think about it.”

“I can find another cupid….get the mark off. I’ll find the one who marked you—.”

“Gabe,” you interrupted. “We have to hunt this monster first. It’s killing people. But….but if you want to go…go after the cupid….I’m not—you can go. That’s your call.” Your chest felt like it was tightening and air was a rarity.

“No. It isn’t.” His hands gripped the comforter. “It’s your heart.”

Tearing your eyes away from the archangel, you set your focus on the bathroom door. Clearing your thoughts again still held a level of difficulty.

“It’s been a long day. Better to sleep and have a clearer head in the morning, yeah?” You muttered.

A snap of his fingers and the snacks were on the table and you were under the bedcovers while your breath was minty fresh.

“Thanks, Gabe,” you murmured.

“Good night, gumdrop.”

“Good night.”

Offering a small smile, Gabriel teleported out.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you fell back onto the mattress.

Way to complicate things, you thought.

Soon exhaustion overpowered your battling thoughts and allowed you a few hours of sleep.

. . .

Suits on and fake IDs pocketed, you and the Winchesters stood by the counter in the diner. The morning sun-rays shone oranges and pinks across most of the surfaces.

“May we have her current address,” Sam asked the manager.

“Yes, sir. Let me write it down for you.” The manager answered as he went to the back.

As the manager disappeared behind a wall, Dean gave a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t think she’s sick, do you?” You asked quietly.

“Depends,” Dean started. “How much does she really know?”

“Just because she called out sick doesn’t mean she was involved with what happened last night,” Sam reasoned.

“If she’s sick,” you said, “Then she’ll be home all day. We need to check the guy’s house again.”

“Agreed. We must have missed something.”

“Not that we knew we were looking for anything besides a ghost,” Dean added.

“Yay,” you sung sarcastically.

The manager reappeared with a paper in hand.

“Here you are. I hope she’s alright. She’s a good person. Good worker.” The manager said as he handed over the paper to Sam.

“Thank you.” Sam smiled. “We just need her help. Thank you for your concern.”

“Thank you,” Dean said with a nod as the three of you walked out of the diner.

Even though neither of you were hungry any more, you were all growing suspicious. How many supernatural creatures were going to appear on this one hunt when you all thought it was over?

“Looks like we’re going to the house again first.” Sam announced. “It’s closer.”

“What should we be looking for?” Dean asked. “The man’s family owns the house and could have taken things.”

“I don’t think so. The guy didn’t really have what some might consider a lavish lifestyle.”

“So we’re back to square one.” Dean got into the driver’s seat as the rest of you climbed in.

“At least we know a bit about him already.” You added in. “Handyman, practically everybody in town knew him…”

“Unusual death in the woods.”

“Still seems random. Why would he be in the woods? Exercising?”

“Getting ready to exercise his time as a ghost and haunting people?”

You could practically feel Sam rolling his eyes in the passenger seat.

On the drive over the defeated-ghost’s house, Sam had already started planning where to look in the house. The usual spots where information was kept. Dean had the radio on, knowing the ride was just long enough for a few songs.

“Can you higher the music some?” You asked. The song was good, yes, however the height in volume helped keep your mind on the song itself and nothing more.

Dean gave an approving smile through the rearview mirror and turned the dial.

During the drive, you noticed Sam checking on you every so often. You knew he was still worried considering you hadn’t so much as hinted about the whole cupid incident the evening prior. He had cause to be worried because you were friends, but to you it wasn’t the time to discuss it. Not that you were ready to.

If you thought the motel smelled a little stale, the inside of the destroyed-ghost’s house was stuffy. No one had been in for at least a couple of weeks.

When was the last time the guy’s family opened a window in here?

The three of you dispersed to different sections of the home. Sam went into another room, you spotted a closet by the kitchen, and Dean went straight to the paper mess on the counter.

Since the three of you had got into town, the man’s family had yet to go by, but who knew when they’d show up. Someone inherited it already. The three of you had to quickly find what you needed.

“People still have these?” Dean had found an old phonebook with corners folded. He flipped through some of its yellow pages.

“They’re a lot thiner now,” you commented. Looking through the closet, you peeked into a cardboard box. It held only door locks.

“Any chance this guy was paranoid of being hunted?”

“What’d you mean?” Dean asked.

“There are at least ten different door locks in here.” You grabbed the box and pushed it on the counter for Dean to have a look.

“There were four deaths before his. Then the guy started haunting…”

“He could have been a victim like the others.”

“He was the local handyman, he knew everyone…”

“That doesn’t mean he had motive. The lady at the diner said he had an affair with the neighbor.”

“Jealousy is a good cover story.”

You frowned, “Was there even a haunting?”

“You’re telling me…some monster has been throwing us off their trail?”

You exhaled.

“Hey.” Sam called from another room.

You and Dean made your way to Sam who had a notebook laid open on the desk.

“You found the guy’s diary?” Dean peered down to the various notepads and scraps of paper. “Or tiny scrapbook?”

“They’re phone numbers to bookstores, a psychic, a private investigator, and even a cryptologist.”

“He knew something was up,” you said.

“Looks like our guy here was close to contacting a hunter.” Dean flicked through the pages.

“Do you think that’s why he was killed? He knew the victims and knew it wasn’t…normal.” Sam said.

“For lack of a better word,” you crossed your arms.

“He might have been trying to stop them—the monster.” Sam thought out loud.

“He got caught.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“But how? He had work, but…did he know where to look?”

“I have an idea where we can start.”

You and Sam looked to the eldest Winchester.

“Diner waitress’ house.”

. . .

Nice and pressed suit jackets back on, you and the boys stepped out of the Impala. Sitting on a well-groomed yard sat a quaint house. Unsuspecting and fitting into the neighborhood.

It was time to get some real answers.

“We don’t know what we’re walking into.” Sam said as the three of you neared the door.

“Keep alert.” Dean advised.

“No distractions.” You breathed in. A mental image of Gabriel was interrupted by Sam’s knocking on the front door.

Quietly, you stood waiting for a response.

Right on cue, the three of you smiled as the lady from the diner answered the door.

“What can I do for you?” She asked as nicely as if you were customers in need of a stack of a hot breakfast.

“We were wondering if we could ask you a few more questions ab—?”

“Of course.” She stood aside as she opened the door more. “Please come in.”

A warning shiver ran up your neck as she smiled.

Hey, Gabriel, you prayed, just letting you know that I have a funny feeling about this waitress.

Sam lead the three of you inside.

The house smelled like lavender and bleach.

You may have enough mental control to divert attention from one thought to another, but you could not help but to wrinkle your nose at the smells.

Passed the entryway, she invited each of you to take a seat on a couch. The back of the couch faced the hallway you entered.

Dean sat rigid beside you. No doubt he sensed something was off or didn’t like how all of you had your backs exposed.

“Would you like anything to drink?” She asked.

“No, thank you.” Sam answered casually.

It was both amazing and entirely helpful how he could always do that. To make it seem as if it was a warm business meeting with tea.

She sat down in an armchair across from you all and crossed her legs.

“What can I help you with? Did you find out why he’d kill his own neighbor before himself? She was such a darling woman. She always ordered caramel sauce with her pancakes.” She smiled.

“Tasty,” Dean piped up half-heartedly.

The lady’s smile did not fade.

“How did you know him,” Sam began to question. Even going as far as to ask why she thought it was that man in the first place when it was found that he was quite happy with his job.

As the woman began to answer, her voice faded away; your attention drawn elsewhere.

You turned to look behind you. Another woman was standing in the doorway. A similar built to the one in the armchair.

“You three should have left town.” The waitress spoke, she was beside Sam then. Her hand close to touching his head of hair. Smiling at the Winchester, her eyes turned an unnatural shade of blue. As her smile grew, fangs were exposed in place of her front teeth. “We’re glad you stayed.”

“Vetala. Fun.” Dean leaped off of the couch with a knife in hand.

She had moved back to the armchair before Dean’s shoes met the floor.

“Bronze or silver?” You asked.

“Silver.”

Sam was on his feet.

Hand reaching in your suit for your knife, you were pinned to the couch in a second. Your airway was constricted by the waitress’ hand. Her fangs more than too close for your liking.

Sam was shoved somewhere passed the couch after his attempted rescue. His thud against a wall and the floor was rather significant.

On the other hand, Dean hit the vetala hard enough that she loosened her grip on your neck. Turning, she backhanded Dean to the armchair. Both him and the chair toppled backwards and you missed how he flailed his legs to get back onto his feet again.

With a hand searching desperately in your suit, you heard the sounds of Sam and Dean’s continued fight. After finding the right handle, you pulled out your silver knife and plunged it into the vetala’s chest. She faltered and barred her fangs at you.

Somewhere off to the side of the couch, and out of your line of sight, Sam battled against the other monster with blunt hits.

To your surprise, the hand around your neck tightened, her nails digging into your skin.

Why isn’t it working? What’s wr—?

An arm wrapped around the vetala’s throat and yanked back.

“Twist the knife!” Dean ordered.

Grabbing ahold of the knife with both hands, you rotated the weapon.

In another moment, the vetala’s body stiffened and then slacked completely. Dean shrugged the body off to the side so it would not land on you.

Behind the couch, Sam had the other vetala in an arm lock before using his own silver blade to kill the monster. Finally it dropped to the floor, Sam looked away from the body with a flip of his hair.

“You alright, Sam?” Dean asked as he helped you off of the couch. He made sure not to step on the dead vetala.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“So…” You said and rubbed at your neck. “Was there a haunting or was it a set up—fake out…thing?”

“We all need a drink, is what I think.” Dean stated.

“Heh, you rhymed.”

“Shut it.” His tone was not firm nor irritated in the slightest. Perhaps tired.

You raised your eyebrows in a playful challenge and called out, “Gabriel, if you’re not busy—”

“Don’t tell me it was the waitress.” Gabriel had appeared beside you. “Really wanted that milkshake.”

“Yeah. A pair of vetala.” Sam explained briefly. “They had a nice operation going for them.”

The archangel’s eyes darted between the bloodied knife in your hand and your neck you were still touching. His jaw muscles tensed. In a snap of his fingers the pair of vetala were gone.

Handy, you thought. More than anything, you were relieved and overjoyed that Gabriel appeared when you called. You wished you could be as helpful to him. You wished you could do more for him. He deserved more positivity.

“Let’s get going,” Dean said as he started towards the front door.

“There were only two of them?” You asked. “Not a nest or anything?”

“Vetala work in pairs.” Sam answered.

“But if the archangel over here would like to do a house check,” Dean smirked, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You glanced over at said archangel.

“Be back in a sec.” Gabriel zapped out.

“How come he listens to you more?” Sam asked as you two turned to join Dean.

The warmth in your chest brought a smile to your face. You did love the extra attention Gabriel gave you. It made loving him a little more bearable.

“Maybe I ask a little nicer,” you shrugged. “I don’t remember ever yelling at him or anything like that.”

Why would I? You thought. They’re the ones with the weird tense relationship….some trickster stuff. Glad I missed that. It would change things….I think.

Outside, Gabriel stood beside the Impala.

“Let’s go.” He sung.

“What?” Sam opened the passenger side door. “You got plans?”

“Yes. I can have plans.”

You hardly felt your shoulders slouch in disappointment, but you could feel the cold, emptiness in your stomach.

“Will you be gone long?” You asked.

Gabriel tilted his head and spoke, “You’re coming with me.”

“Hey,” Dean interjected. “If this is about finding that piece of shit-cupid, I want in.”

You tensed. Thoughts swam in multiple directions before you could stop them. Bits and pieces more clear than others that you hoped Gabriel didn’t catch. You didn’t want to burden him or make him uncomfortable with how you felt. Not even the cupid who marked you could had known that you already held romantic feelings for the archangel. Although out of everyone, maybe Sam knew, he was perceptive in that way.

“(Y/N).” Sam had lightly nudged your shoulder.

“What?”

“Uh…you kind of tuned us all out.” Sam said, his face full of concern. “You can tell us. I mean…we will go after the cupid. What they did to you was wrong.”

Exhaling quietly, you ducked down and squeezed into the car’s backseat.

“(Y/N),” Dean turned to look at you from the driver’s seat. “I don’t know who the bastard marked you with or how confused or pissed you might be, but don’t you dare think for a second that this is less important than a hunt. I won’t stand for that shit and neither with Sam. Got it?”

You nodded. Your fingers pulling at your sleeves.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered.

Sam got into the car and shut the door.

“We’ll let Cas know…” Dean turned the key in the ignition.

At the flutter of wings, you jolted. Your palms clammy like if it was your first hunt. You dared not to look Gabriel in the eyes as he settled in the backseat. Regardless, you could feel him studying you intensely.

The car made its way back to the motel and you had never felt so incredibly awkward. For one, you knew that your friends wanted to know who you were in love with. Two, Gabriel could sense your emotions and might have been reading your mind every second. Three, you weren’t sure if you should tell any of them the full truth.

They were your friends and deserved to know, but that didn’t mean you were obligated to nor ready.

As you walked back into your rented room, you went through a mental checklist. What you did not expect however, was Gabriel had followed you inside, closing the door silently.

You walked straight to your bag and set it on the foot of the bed. The first thing you wanted to do was have a quick change into something casual for the ride back. Getting wrinkles out of a suit wasn’t on your to-do list. You made sure to not take any more time than necessary changing in the bathroom and washing any blood off.

Back in the main room, you ran on automatic, thoughts preoccupied by a random, catchy song. Gabriel only watched, not saying a word, which only made your nerves alert you.

Once you zipped your bag and turned around to be two breathes away from Gabriel. Your heart practically leaped to your throat.

Honey-colored eyes captured your gaze. The bag in your grasp was tugged away without any resistance from you.

“It’ll be easier if I stay away until we get the mark off of your heart.” Gabriel said.

“What?”

“It would be selfish of me if I took advantage of that mark.” He traced a small invisible pattern across the fabric covering your sternum.

Incredibly short breathes made it in and out of your lungs.

His hand returned to his side and he took a step back.

“I’ll put this in the car for you.” He said as the sparkle in his eyes dimmed. “Then I’ll go…”

It felt as if clawed hands were tearing at your heart. Your eyes stung from unshed tears.

“Gabe.” Your voice was small and broke at the last sound.

“I’ll fix this, gumdrop.” He didn’t look at you from the door. “Don’t worry.”

“Gabe.” Your feet refused to move. Your mind whirling with meanings to his words. “Do you love me?”

After a few moments of sheer silence, he sighed. His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak.

Your hands formed into fists as you forced words out, “Regardless of the stupid cupid arrow or mark. Do you…do you actually love me? Did you mean it with every flirt? Every time you would show up when I asked or needed you? When I was scared or happy? Because this isn’t like a movie love spell. Have I treated you any differently?”

Even from across the room, Gabriel’s eyes could root you to the spot and read you like a book.

You couldn’t believe, well actually you could, that it took your heart and feelings to be tampered with for Gabriel to express his feelings for you. To open up more.

“Gabriel,” you swallowed. “Taking the mark away wouldn’t change me. The feelings were already there.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“Read my mind! Freakin’ go through it. None of this is new. I just never had it in me to tell you or ask you out.” You finally took a longer breath. “I’m only human.”

Gabriel snapped your bag to who knows where and took long strides to be back in front of you. His warm hands held yours and rubbed the tension away until you no longer had your fingers digging into your palms.

“You’re not only a human. Don’t say that,” he shook his head. “And I’ll tell you and remind you in all the ways of how you are more. I’ll tell you how intelligent and kick ass you are until you get sick of it and then I’ll tell you more. I’ll compliment you until Sam and Dean roll their eyes into the back of their skulls and then I’ll shout it from every ‘tallest building’ in every country because everyone should know how incredible you are. How perfect I think you are.”

“Yeah?” You sniffed as tears blurred your vision.

“Yeah.” Gabriel’s lips curved up and he nudged his nose against yours.

The wide smile on your lips could hardly match the amount of joy and love you felt building within you.

“I should have read your mind weeks ago.” Gabriel kissed your forehead then your eyebrow, followed by your temple, your ear, earlobe, cheekbone—

KNOCK KNOCK THUMP

“Hey, you okay in—“

“Hold on!” You shouted to Dean outside. “I’m having a moment!”

“What?”

You laughed lightly.

The archangel’s lips made their way to the corner of your mouth.

“I love you, Gabriel,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed your nose.

“I love you, (Y/N).” He hooked your hands behind his neck. “Say the word and we’ll go somewhere alone. Anywhere.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#Supernatural Gabriel x Reader #supernatural Gabriel imagine #Supernatural imagines #spn Gabriel x Reader #Supernatural imagine #Gabriel imagine #supernatural #Sam Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester imagine #Sam Winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #Castiel #imagines #where dreamers go

[vixenpen]

Homie, Lover, Friend (Bakugo x Black! (F)Reader x Deku)

Pt. 1

(This is the second part in a series. Reader-Chan is black and hood coded)

The walk to the cafe had given you time to clear your head. Unfortunately, your body hadn’t quite gotten the memo. Because the way Bakugo had looked at you...the way he touched you... It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you see your friend in a different light.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t find Bakugo cute. Hell, since he’d grown up, developed his style, and started getting piercings, you had to admit your bestie was a whole ass snack. It also wasn’t lost on you that he may have had a slight crush on you. Hell, you’d seen the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You may have had a teensie little crush back even, but you always thought it was just innocent. Just a surface level attraction that would never go beyond light flirting.

Was he seriously trying to make a play for your hand? If the predatory way he had stared at your lips was any indication...whew. You had to calm the hell down. You had a date with Izuku, another little cutie that you’d been crushing on for years.

In fact, said cutie was waving at you from the sidewalk as you made your way towards the line of shops and restaurants.

“Hey, y/n!”

“Wassup Zuzu?”

He pulled you into a hug that had you pressed into his hard chest.

Ok, Zuzu...

You thought as you felt his pecs flexing against you. You couldn’t believe the once shy little green haired kid had grown into this confident, fit, and frankly fine as hell, fledgling hero.

“Okay, Zuzu! I see you, boo. All fine and shit.”

He blushed, scratching his green curls. That was more like the Izuku you had grown up with.

“Haha, thanks, y/n. I could say the same about you. You look really pretty.”

You gave him an appreciative smile.

He held open the door to the cafe “After you.”

The two of you settled into a cushiony booth in the back of the shop and placed your orders.

“So, Mr. Big Shot Hero, I ain’t heard from you in a while,” you nudged his leg under the table with your foot. “Wassup? Too busy being famous to hit a bitch up now?”

“I would hardly call myself a hero! I’m just a sidekick, but yeah, I guess it does keep me busy.”

“Clearly,” you pouted. “Too busy for little old me.”

“N-no! Never, y/n. I-I’ve been wanting to reach out to you.” He grabbed your hand across the table. “I’ve missed you a lot, but that’s not an excuse.”

“Zuzu, chill, I’m just playin! I know you’re busy living your best life as a hero,”

Izuku started to correct you, but you cut him off.

“You’re a hero in my book, Deku, so get used to the title.”

He chuckled. “If you say so, y/n.”

“Anyway, boo, I’m just glad we’re finally hangin out-“

“On a date.” Izuku corrected you with a smile.

“On a date.” You smiled back. “See?” You reaches across the table to smack his forearm. “Why can’t you say that you’re a hero with that same confidence?”

“Because,” Deku grabbed your hand, gently, “I’m still working on the hero thing.”

He brushed his thumb along your knuckles.

“But I already succeeded on getting a date with you.”

He kissed your knuckles gently.

Lord Jesus...

Since when did sweet little Deku, get so much big dick energy? And better yet, could he back it up?

You tried to think of a cheeky response, but much like with Bakugo earlier, your mind was failing you.

Thankfully, your cherub cheeked waitress appeared with your order.

“Here you are, you two. The high tea!”

She announced, sitting down a 3-tiered platter piled high with mini sandwiches, cheeses, and tartlets in front of them. A second waitress followed suit with a cup of rose tea for you and chai tea for Deku.

“Oooh! This is so cuuute!” You squealed whipping out your phone. You snapped a quick aesthetic pic for the gram and then another of yourself much to Deku’s amusement.

“Got the shot?” He asked.

“Yessir. Angles n awl uh dat!”

He chuckled.

“So,” He started, “hows your work under Midnight going?”

“It’s been pretty dope actually! Midnight has been training me on how to kick ass and on the art of seduction.” You wiggled your brows.

“Well, you don’t need help on that.”

Apparently not, since I got you and Boombastic thirsting over me...

“No, but it doesn’t hurt to refine my skills. Not to mention, Midnight is way more kick ass than I originally realized. Like, if she wanted to rank higher, she totally could, you can tell she’s just coasting.”

Izuku predictably perked up at the hero talk, his green eyes brightening a little more.

“Oh yeah, Midnight is amazing. She’s much more skilled than people give her credit for, but she’s underestimated due to the nature of her quirk and the way she dresses.”

“I know right!” You exclaimed. “Like, I dead ass saw her take out eight villains even when her quirk wasn’t functioning properly.”

“Aw man, I would have loved to see that!”

“It was so dope. I’ve definitely upped my fighting skills learning from her.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen and heard, you’re doing amazing. I don’t think you could have chosen a better mentor.”

“Says you, Mr. I-work-for-the-number-one-hero.”

“Hey, who better to learn from if I’m gonna be the number one hero one day?“

You cocked a brow at Izuku’s bold declaration, and A blush rose on his freckled cheeks. He scratched his head.

“Oh jeez, I sound like Kacchan, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Speaking of, Kacchan, does he uh...know about us?”

You chuckled nervously. “Well, now he does.”

“How did he take it?” Izuku inquired as he munched in a sandwich.

“He asked me to cancel it and threatened to kill you.”

“Sounds about right.” Izuku snorted.

“And that was before he figured out who I was going out with.”

“Yikes. Guess I’ll get started on my will. Anything you want y/n?”

You giggled.

“Don’t worry, I told him he doesn’t own me and I can go out with who ever I want.”

“Trust me, y/n, I’m not worried about someone whose not in my position right now.”

“Damn Zuzu, it’s like that?”

“Hey,” he shrugged, “it is what it is. Now are you gonna eat that strawberry tartlet?

You and Deku spent the remainder of your date feeding each other the little tarts, laughing, and joking.

By the time you guys left the cafe and made it back to your apartment hand in hand, it was nightfall.

“I’m glad we went out tonight, Zuzu, this was hella fun.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, y/n.” Izuku smiled down at you.

“I almost forgot how much fun you are—ya know, since you turned into a stranger and all.” You gave him a playful nudge.

“Well, You let this stranger take you on a date and walk you home. So, I’m guessing you like him, huh?” He nudged you, playfully.

“Well...he kinda cute or whateva, so I guess I’ll keep him around for now.”

“Good.” Deku replied.

As The two of you stopped in front of your front door, he pulled you into him, arms around your waist.

“I’m gonna work on making that ‘forever.’”

Before you could think up a reply, his lips landed on yours; soft and sweet and warm.

Your eyes fluttered close at the gentleness of his touch. You melted into the kiss, returning it hungrily. Just as you began to lose yourself in the moment, Deku pulled back.

He gazed down at you for a beat before finally kissing your nose.

“Night baby.”

Baby?????

“G-goodnight, Izuku.” You whispered.

With that, he left.

#bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #deku x reader #my hero academia #love triangle #bakugo x reader #bnha #my hero fanfic #bnha scenarios #bnha smut

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 9: You Just Keep on Giving.

Summary: Katie and Coulson’s team head off in an attempt to track down the missing Asgardian staff whilst Steve confronts Fury about his actions. Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: LANGUAGE!!

A/N: Credit to @angrybirdcr​ for her edit once again! It’s a pleasure to have you collaborating for the pictures, hun!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 8

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 Steve was sat on his couch when Katie called him later that evening. Smiling he accepted the video call and she beamed at him.

“Hey, Soldier. Am I glad to see your face.” “You’ve only been gone a few hours.” He chuckled.

“Seven, actually.” She pouted “Jerk.” He grinned. “Seven too long, Doll. How’s it going?” “Its okay. We’re heading out tomorrow to speak to a professor I took some advice from when Thor was first on Earth. He’s based in Seville so not too far away.” “Tour of Europe, nice.” “Be nicer if you were here.” 

“Wish I was. The team ok?” He asked, leaning back to get comfy as he held the phone up so he could see her.

“Well I know all of them bar one.” Katie rubbed her temple. “And like all of them bar one.”

Steve laughed “They made a good first impression then?” “Oh, it’s not the one I don’t know that I don’t like.” she paused, before letting out a groan and wrinkling up her freckle spattered nose “Fucking Ward is here.” Steve frowned and sat up straight, swallowing the anger rising from his chest. “What?” “Yeah, apparently his post was one with Coulson’s mobile team. Go figure.” “Son of a…” Now Steve was mad, really mad. First off Fury had sprung Coulson on his girl, and now this. He looked at her as she shook her head, shrugging.

“Nothing I can do about it.”

“You could always come home.” he suggested, even though he knew she wouldn’t.

“I’m involved now. Might as well see it through. And as much of a dickhead he is, he’s a good agent so…” “I’m not sure I like you being cooped up in so close proximity to him.” Steve sighed, and as her eyes narrowed, he instantly knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t you trust me?” “Of course I do.” He placated, cursing himself. And he did. He trusted her implicitly. “It’s him I don’t trust. I hate how much he upset you and I don’t like him.”

Katie laughed at his somewhat childish answer and he was pleased to see the anger in her face dissipating. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m over him now.” “I wish I was over you.” Steve smirked and she gave an overly dramatic shocked gasp.

“Captain Badass! How rude!” He laughed and then sighed. “But I mean it. If he steps a toe outta line, I’ll be on a jet straight over to break his nose, again.”

Katie smirked “You didn’t break it last time, that was Tony remember?”

“How could I forget?” The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk as he remembered that specific evening.

They’d were at a bar, Tony was in town and Lawson’s band had been playing so they had gone out for a few beers. And then Ward had shown up, again. Steve and Katie had spent most of the night trying to keep Tony calm and away from him, and now by some sick twist of fate Steve, unfortunately, found himself next to Ward at the bar as he waited to get another round of drinks in whilst Tony and Natasha were at a table by the dance floor. Ward was watching Katie whilst she danced with Clint as the archer twirled her effortlessly round the floor as the post-band DJ continued to play. Steve didn’t miss the way her ex boy-friend’s eyes travelled down her body and backup again and he felt himself bristle as he watched the man, blatantly ogling his girl. It wasn’t a completely alien thing for him to experience, she turned heads wherever they went, but the fact it was her ex riled him big time, especially as this man had treat her like shit, made her feel worthless.

Steve hated him for that.

Ward glanced up and at least had the grace to look a little sheepish at being caught.

“Sorry Captain it’s just, well, you have a hell of a woman there.”

Steve looked at the man, his voice low and emotionless. “I know.”

“Biggest regret I have is how I treated her.” Ward sighed, taking a drink from his glass. “I was a jerk.”

“No arguments here.” Steve muttered, a bit louder than he had intended as the bar tender approached with his order. Steve paid and picked up his bottle to take a swig whilst waiting for his change, only to find Ward talking to him again.

“She was a demon in the sack too, as you’ll know.” Ward sniffed, looking straight ahead, a smirk on his face. Steve paused, bottle raised to his mouth. Was this asshole actually going there?

“I’ve no idea why I went looking elsewhere.” He continued, before he turned to look at Steve, “The things she can do with her mouth and-“

“That’s enough.” Steve’s voice was loaded with anger as he slammed the bottle down on the counter causing it to shatter, sending its contents flying over the surface along with shards of glass as he turned his head to look at Ward, ignoring the bar tenders squeak of shock. As Steve stood up straight and glared at the man, who was an inch or so shorter than he was, he knew he’d risen to the ridiculous goading and given Ward the reaction he wanted, but right now what he wanted was to smash the fucker’s face straight down into the pool of beer that was gathered on the surface below and watch as his nose broke.

But he didn’t get chance, as at that moment a whirlwind dressed in a grey blazer and dark jeans flew in between them both and suddenly Ward was on the floor. 

Tony had punched him straight in the face.

“Man I’ve been waiting to do that for years.” Tony spoke simply, shaking out his fist as he glanced down at Ward.

“You broke my nose!” Ward’s voice was nasaly as he stood up, shrugging off Rollins who had helped him to his feet. “Yeah well you broke my sister’s heart.” Tony snarled back as Natasha stepped in front of him, both hands on her chest pushing him away. “Sue me.”

“What is going on?” A loud voice said to their side and all three men turned to see Katie stood there, Clint at her side, a blank expression on her face as her eyes locked onto Tony’s.

“Your brother just punched me.” Ward wiped at his bloodied face.

“Yeah I saw that.” She said, her eyes still on Tony “Why?”

“Because he’s a dick.” Tony sniffed simply. “And he was picking a fight with Spangles. Thought I’d get in there first.”

Katie looked at Steve who gave her a raise of his eyebrows in confirmation before she tuned to look at Tony again.

“You were protecting Captain America.” Katie’s lips twitched slightly as Tony wrinkled his nose and popped his shoulder.

“Yeah, that and I just really wanted to hit him.” “Come on guys.” The bar tender said lightly “I don’t want to have to ask any of you to leave…”

“You never did like me, did you Tony?” Ward wiped again at his nose, spatters of blood landing all over his shirt.

“No.” Tony deadpanned simply, picking at something on his sleeve.

“Time to go, Ward.” Rollins pat Ward’s chest and Ward shot one last look at the group before turning to go.

“Okay, nothing to see here…move it a long!” Clint clapped his hands together as the crowd that had gathered dissipated and the volume level of the bar returned to normal.

“Has he gone?” Tony asked, not looking around.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded.

“Good, because…fuck me!” Tony groaned, shaking out his right hand. “That hurt.” “Let me see.” Natasha turned to Tony as Clint announced that the fact Ward had his nose splattered across his face called for a celebratory round of chasers, turning to the bar.

Steve stepped towards his girl and gently placed a hand in the small of her back and she turned to look at him, breaking her gaze from the door Ward had left through.

“So what did he say to you to make you lose it?” She asked..

“I didn’t lose it, Tony was the one that punched him.” Steve protested and Katie arched her eyebrow.

“Oh, and did Tony smash that bottle all over the bar?” “You saw that?” Steve grimaced, peeking up at her a little, sheepishly.

She nodded. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter”

“Let me guess, ‘she was amazing in bed…’” Katie mimicked a deep voice. “’She can do amazing things with her hands…mouth…pick a hole’” Steve flushed bright red, which was answer in itself as she shook her head. 

“So predictable.” Katie scoffed, her eyes not once leaving Steve’s “You know he was doing it on purpose, to get a rise out of you. And it worked.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighed, reaching out and gently grabbing her hips, pulling her to him. “I just, well I didn’t like him talking about you like that, I wouldn’t like anyone talking about you like that.” He saw Katie’s mouth twitch at the side as her hands gently wrapped around his upper arms. ”My hero.”

He let out a huff of a laugh and was about to, once again, point out that it was Tony who had landed the blow when the Inventor reminded them himself.

“Jesus you are a sadist!” Tony pulled his hand away from where Nat had pressed a towel wrapped around a load of ice to his knuckles.

“Quite being a baby, Shell Head.” She said airily as Tony glared at her, holding his hand to his chest.

“To be fair to Tony,” Steve said, grinning at the memory as he looked at the screen of his StarkPhone, “it was a pretty good punch.” Katie sniggered and looked up as Steve heard a knock on her door. “Yeah?” A voice from off screen spoke. “Hey, we’re meeting for some food and a few beers if you wanna…” “Yeah I’ll be with you in a sec.” “Are you talking to him?” The voice gained pitch and Steve arched an eyebrow letting out a soft sigh.

Katie laughed. “Yeah, hey Stevie…you got a fan.” She winked as she looked at him, before she turned the phone round and Steve saw a small woman, leaning in the doorway her long, dark hair tucked behind her ears. He rubbed his neck slightly embarrassed and waved.

“Hi…” “Skye, Steve, Steve, Skye.” “Nice to meet you Skye, well, talk to you.” He smiled politely. “You too Cap.” She grinned as Katie turned the phone round. “I’ll see you down there.”

Katie nodded as she shut the door.

“That was the newbie.” She said to Steve who smiled at her. “She seems nice.” Steve nodded. “I’ll let you go get some food, I know how you get when you don’t eat.”

“Oh hello kettle, this is Steve Rogers here. You’re black”  Her sarcasm made him laugh loudly. “You’re the king of hanger.” “And that makes you the queen of hanger by default so…”

“Smart ass.” She shot after a little pause. “I better go, I’ll message you later.”

“Love you.” He smiled at her. “Love you too.” She said, before adding with a sarcastic grin. “My king…”

***** Katie had no idea where the food came from but she didn’t care. A big, greasy bacon cheeseburger with a side of loaded fries really hit the spot, especially alongside a large glass of Aviation gin.

As they ate they talked and Fitz, who was bouncing on his chair eventually lost his composure and leant forward.

“So…I’m sorry…and May told me not to ask but I have to… what’s it like dating Captain America?” Katie gave a huff as she swallowed down her food. “I wouldn’t know. I’m dating Steve Rogers.”

"I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…”  Fitz stuttered as May threw him a filthy look whilst Simmons hit him on the arm.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” She smiled “I just… well, there’s far more to him than the shield and the stars and stripes. He’s the kindest, gentlest, sweetest guy I’ve ever met and he treats me like a Queen.”

Ward shifted in his seat and whilst Katie didn’t look at him, the movement didn’t go unnoticed.

“But, isn’t he like, dead old fashioned?” Skye asked. “Being like nearly a hundred.” “In some ways.” Katie shrugged. “I mean he has a few little quirks, but he’s adapted quite well all things considered”

“How is he?” Coulson asked “I mean, I’ve not seen him since…well, I died.” “He’s good.” Katie smiled. “He’s fit right in to SHIELD and he’s happy, we’re happy.”

“Oh that’s so sweet!” Simmons gushed.

“An Avengers love story.” Fitz sighed. “Man, wish I could be an Avenger.”

"What would your super power be?” Ward snorted, knocking back his scotch “Boring everyone to death with algorithms?” “You do know that there’s only actually three out of the seven of us that has a super power or enhancement.” Katie said simply, shooting Ward a glare before she turned to Fitz “Steve, Dr Banner and Thor. The rest of us rely on training or technology.” “So you’re saying I have a chance?” Fitz grinned causing the rest of the table to laugh or snort.

“Never give up on your dreams.”  Katie deadpanned, causing the table to laugh.  

They continued chatting and attacked more of their food before Skye continued with the questioning.

“What was AC like as an SO?” she asked. Coulson groaned and Katie laughed, swallowing the rest of her burger.

“He was the best.” she smirked, “although to be fair, once I started training as a Field Op, my real SO was Hawkeye.” “Now HE is dreamy.” Simmons sighed. “All dark and broody and arrowy.” “Arrowy?” Skye snorted. “That isn’t even a word.”

“He’ll love that!” Katie laughed, shaking her head and making a mental note to tell him. “Arrowy…”

Coulson stood up, gesturing round the table as people had finished drinks and he headed to the bar to get more, Fitz and Ward following to help.

“So how did you end up joining SHIELD?” Katie looked at Skye.

“I hacked them.” She shrugged “I was trailing some guy who had taken some extremis serum and blew their cover.”

“You’d get on very well with my brother.” Katie snorted “He hacks SHIELD for fun.” “Still?” Coulson asked as he placed another drink down in front of her.

She nodded “Much to Fury’s annoyance.”

She trailed off slightly as she remembered the last time Tony had hacked SHIELD. He’d discovered something that she really wished he hadn’t. SHIELD were conducting experiments on the recovered Chitauri weapons. It had pissed her, Steve and Tony off no end and made her extremely glad the Tesseract had gone back to Asgard with Thor. Meddling with things they didn’t understand never did any good. But more so it was the fact that Fury had declared it was all being destroyed upon recovery. Another lie the Director had spun. And she was getting tired of them. Real tired.

Shaking the thought off she turned her attention to Coulson who was now talking about the task in hand tomorrow. The team came up with a plan about who was going where and when, and then Katie decided she’d had enough. She stood up, bidding the team goodnight.

***** The university was a short drive away from where they had set The Bus down. Coulson drove in his beloved red sports car, Lola. When they arrived they easily navigated their way through to Elliot’s office. As they reached his office door, it swung outwards and Coulson held it open. “I’ll see you later.” Elliot was saying to a dark haired, female student who exited the office with a pile of paper and books clutched in her arm. Elliot looked up, saw them standing there and let out a small exclamation of surprise.

“Oh…”

“Professor Randolph.” Coulson smiled, shaking his hand.

“Agent Coulson, Agent Stark”

“Good to see you again.” Katie also took his hand when he offered it.

“Well I never, come in, come in.” “Waterfield 44.” Phil said suddenly, and Katie looked at him frowning. It was only when Elliot looked down at the pen in his hand, holding it out for Coulson to take that she realised what he was talking about. “14-Karat gold nib with mother of pearl inlay.” Coulson turned the pen over in his hand before offering it back.

Katie bit back a snort, it sounded like something Tony would own, but she wasn’t quite sure what the deal with the pen was. “That’s quite an eye you’ve got. I didn’t know you were a collector.” Professor Randalph laughed.

“On my wages?” Coulson snorted. “I wish.” “Well,” Elliot took the pen back and tucked it in his pocket before looking at them. “I’m assuming you found something on the ground in London.”

“In a tree in Norway.” Coulson added, placing the case containing the printed rod that Fitz had made on the desk, opening it.  ”And unfortunately we weren’t the ones who found it.” Katie added “It’s a 3-D model” Couslon handed the item to Elliot who took it, examining it closely. “Oh, that is amazing.” He turned away from them and put the rods symbols under a light to look at them better. “Now, based on these runes,” he muttered, still looking at it, “I’d say I’m looking at a piece of  Berserker Staff.”

Katie smiled as her and Coulson exchanged a look.

“But I think you already know that.”  Elliot looked up as he set the rod down.

“Suspected.” Katie smiled. “My knowledge on it is sketchy, and there are many different theories about it so…”

The Professor stood up and walked over to pull a book off his shelf “Here.” He set the book on the desk and Katie and Coulson looked down at a drawing of a man holding the rod up high over his head, the rod in the book was considerably bigger than the one that was taken out of the tree.  Katie started to read the book as Elliot continued to explain. “The man in question was a solider in the Berserker Army” Professor Randalph spoke “Berserker Army?” Coulson asked “Oh, yeah. A powerful army. Fierce army” Elliot spoke “Berserkers battled like raging beasts, destroying everything in their path. A single Berserker had the strength of 20 warriors”. “So whoever wielded the staff got superhuman strength?” Coulson asked “Fighting with it put the warrior into a state of uncontrollable rage.” He replied, picking up the rod and showing it to Coulson.  “The staff contained a very powerful magic”. “The warrior in the story?” Coulson pressed as Katie continued to read, frowning as she spotted something pretty interesting. “He came to Earth to fight,” Elliot said “But he ended up falling in love.”

“With whom?” Coulson asked “With life, on Earth. Humanity” Professor Randalph shrugged   “He fell so much in love that when his army returned to Asgard, he stayed behind.”

“And the staff? He broke it?”

Professor Randalph nodded. “He didn’t want its dark magic falling into the wrong hands. So, according to legend he broke it into three pieces and hid each one in a different location.”  “That manuscript wouldn’t happen to say where he hid them, would it?” Coulson asked. “Actually, it does.” Katie spoke, and placed the book down on the desk, pointing at it, smiling. “In three verses.”

“Now, let’s all bear in mind these are poetic abstracts from long-lost ancient texts.”  Elliot said as Katie cleared her throat and began to read.

“So, there is one about a tree, which they’ve found it seems. Another is ‘East of the river, sun overhead, buried in Earth with the bones of the dead.”’

“That’s a bit macabre, isn’t it?” Randalph said, folding his arms as he smiled.

“There’s another one here.” she continued “Well, this one doesn’t even have a rhyme. But the gist of it is “close to God.” That could be anything, couldn’t it?” “Yeah, I was hoping for less metaphor, more longitude and latitude” Coulson sighed. “Well, maybe we should start looking at areas and places located near Viking raid routes” Katie said, an idea coming to her “Being Norse and all…”

“There have been some recent interesting findings of Norse relics on Baffin Island off the coast of Canada” Randalph shrugged “Yeah, a virtual treasure trove of new artefacts.”

“Well, we’ll check it out. Thank you for your time Professor.” Coulson said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“So AC, Baffin Island?” Katie asked as they climbed back into Lola.

“Did you know there’s a Mount Thor on Baffin Island?” Coulson started up the car as Katie shut the passenger door.

“Really?” “Yeah, and do you know what’s not on Mount Thor?” Coulson continued. “Anything Asgardian. At all. Our agents on the ground combed over it when all these Norse relics turned up. Didn’t find a thing.”

***** “So like you’re a Mission Analyst.” Skye looked at Katie, across the table of the Planning Room

“Yeah”

“And a sniper with STRIKE?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re also an Avenger…”

“Yeah.” Katie muttered, not looking up from the screen she was studying, “Although what we’re avenging now that Coulson isn’t actually dead I don’t know.” She peered closer at the screen and moved the map 180 degrees using her hand.

“Pretty intense.” Skye nodded.

“Yeah it can be.” Katie was still staring at the map. She’d been running an analysis on the Viking Routes in Europe and she was missing something. But she couldn’t think what. And then one highlighted on the map in yellow caught her eye. She tapped in closer, and frowned. “Now that’s interesting.”

She thought for a moment, and then ran another quick search on something, her mind working ten to the dozen.

“What have we got?” Coulson asked as he walked into the room with Ward. Katie looked up and was about to speak but Skye beat her to it.

"Nystorm’s deep-web message boards are just abuzz with psychos”

She moved her hand over the screen so that it activated the hologram display functionality in the middle of the table, various messages scrolling across the bottom part. “They believe they’re gonna ascend to be the Gods of destruction and death. People suck, sir.” “That’s your progress, “people suck”?” Ward looked at her, his eyebrows raised slightly. Katie felt the corner of her mouth twitch up slightly. “These people do.” Skye insisted “And there’s also chatter about going underground.”

“Could be going incognito or – “ Ward started “ Or searching for the next piece.” Coulson turned to Katie “You said about checking Viking routes. Find anything?” “Matter of fact I did.” She tapped the screen to send the map to the holoview. “There are some sites along the Volga River in Russia, some in Kiev, and weirdly, right here.” She moved her hand once more, zooming into show a map of Seville.

“Here? In Seville, Spain?” Coulson frowned. “It’s a long shot, but Vikings ransacked Seville twice.” Katie nodded. “Or so the history books tell us.” At that point the search she was running stopped and something else flashed up in the corner of the screen.

“There.” Katie enlarged it. “That’s a promising location. Viking Relics found at El Divino Nino, a church would you believe it. ”

“Built on the ruins of an eighth century crypt.” Agent May added as she walked into the room. “It’s a tourist attraction.” She explained as everyone turned to look at her.

“Which in turn was built on Roman ruins from 206 B.C.” Katie read the details off the screen. “It’s East of a river.” Ward hummed, leaning on the back of Katie’s chair to look at the map over her shoulder..

“Crypt could be underground.” Sky offered.

“And lots of bones.” Katie concluded.

Coulson nodded “Okay, let’s see what we can dig up.” He smiled. “See what I did there?”

“I’m glad dying and rising again didn’t change your sense of humour AC.” Katie grinned at him. “It’s still crap.” *****

 “Must be nice, have a mandatory nap time” Fitz sighed wistfully, looking out of the van. Katie, Coulson and Fitz were providing support up top, whilst Skye and Ward investigated the crypts.  It was the middle of the day, there wasn’t a soul in sight.

“Siesta isn’t mandatory, just very pleasant” Coulson replied, before he spoke into the coms device. “How you doing, Agent Ward?”

“Wishing I was shorter.” His voice responded. “Nothing yet. All my readings are normal”

“What about you Skye? Any luck?

“I’m lucky Ward volunteered to take the super creepy hallways instead of the slightly less creepy dungeon room place.” Sky responded.

At that point the tablet that Fitz was holding pinged and all three of them shifted to look at it.

“I got nothing. Sorry, nada.” Sky continued. “Ward,” Fitz’s spoke, looking down at the tablet. “Your spectrograph is reading something near you.” “ I don’t see anything.” “Well, it’s right in front of you. Oh, wait. No. Uh, okay, hold on. It’s moving – northwest”

The three of them watched the dot on the screen.

There was a pause and then suddenly Ward responded, his voice now excited.

“Visual Contact.”

“Ward, turn left.” Fitz followed the dot on the screen, calling out the directions.

After a moment or so they heard another voice that wasn’t Ward, before he finally spoke again.

“Yeah, I just ran into some unexpected…”

But he trailed off. The three of them sat up straight as they heard some kind of strange, low rumbling noise and then there was a groan of pain, a grunt and silence.

“Ward, what’s happening?” Coulson asked as, Fitz let out a groan. “His device just went down” Fitz tilted the tablet so they could all see it.

“Skye can you get…” Coulson started to say but he was cut off by her reply “Already on it.”

There were a few moments of silence, where Katie nervously nibbled on her lip. She hated this, not knowing what was going on was always the shittest bit of not being in the middle of the action.

“Somethings wrong with Agent Ward.” Skye replied a few minutes later. “The staff’s gone, someone took it.”

“Shit.” Katie groaned as Coulson looked at her, then to Fitz, before he stepped out of the SUV, Katie following.

“He can’t just disappear.” Coulson said, turning in the street “He’ll have to turn up some –“

Then they heard someone yelling from behind them and a loud whishing noise.

“Where…” Coulson finished as they both turned round to see a car being tossed into the street, landing on its roof.

“There we go. A block South of the Church.” Fitz spoke in their ears.

The pair of them started in that direction, running across the street. As they rounded the corner they spotted Professor Randalph who was picking books up and putting them back inside his bag. Katie exchanged a glance with Coulson and he shrugged at her before the pair of them strode over to where the Professor was stooped. He glanced up at them and then sighed, sitting down hard on the pavement.

“Professor.” Coulson stated as Katie folded her arms

“I screwed up.” Professor Randalph said simply.

***** “One of my men is hurt, the staff is gone.” Coulson spoke, sitting at the table opposite Elliot as Katie and Agent May watched from Coulson’s office. “I didn’t want any of that to happen.” The professor sighed.

“What did you want?” Coulson asked “The staff’s power for yourself?”

“Nothing like that.” Elliot shook his head earnestly “You know, I just wanted to be the first to study it. To prove that the Berserkers were actually here, a part of history. You think about that.” “ Oh, I’m thinking about it.” Coulson replied. “How’d they find it?” “I have no idea.” Elliot laughed “They may have the original texts. I wasn’t involved. You know, it was just a chance to uncover something that the Gods brought down from the heavens. “Aliens brought it. From space” Coulson said and Katie smiled as she thought about how Thor would respond to being called a mere alien. “I’ve spent some one-on-one time with aliens before. Didn’t work out too well.”

“Understatement of the century.” Katie muttered, drawing a glimmer of a smirk from May.

“So cases like this are personal to me.” Coulson concluded. “That’s all I know” Elliot, placed his hands flat on the table and sighed. Coulson stood up and made his way to the door before paused and looked back. “Get comfortable.” And the door to the cell slammed shut.

“What you think?” Katie turned to May, who was stood her arms crossed. She pondered for a moment, opened her mouth but was cut off.

“Agent May.” Fitz appeared in the doorway “Ward’s, well he’s not well, he’s gone down to the cargo bay, won’t let me treat him.”

May slowly turned to look back at Katie who snorted.

“No way, my days of dealing with his tantrums are over.”

“Thought I’d ask.” May smirked slightly. Katie waved her off and returned to looking at the screen. Elliot was sat still at the table, looking around the room in mild amusement, not the demeanour of a man who was concerned or phased in the slightest, which puzzled her slightly. In his shoes, she’d be extremely uncomfortable in a cell, being quizzed by a Government body on some kind of extra-terrestrial item.

She turned to face Coulson as he walked into the room.

“You don’t think he does want the power for himself, do you?” Katie looked at him. It was more a statement than a question.

“I don’t know… there’s something not quite right.” Phil sank into the chair behind his desk.

“He’s too confident” Katie shook her head. “Look at him. He’s not phased in the slightest.”

They both glanced at the screen. Now their ‘prisoner’ was sat on his chair, tilting backwards so the front two legs were off the floor. A sudden wild theory sprang into Katie’s head and she turned to AC.

“You know, he didn’t even flinch when you said you’d spent time with Aliens, normally that would make someone kinda curious right?”

“Normally, yes” Phil agreed, leaning back in his chair.

“And how did he know how to get that second piece?” Katie continued. “Do you think he figured it out as fast as we did or…“

“Did he know where to find it, because he hid it in the first place?”  Coulson finished her sentence. Katie shrugged, smiling. “See, Nova, that is why I wanted you here.”

“A moment, sir?” They both looked up to see Ward stood in the doorway.

“Come on in.” Phil gestured with his hand.

“Are you alright?” Katie asked, despite herself. Ward looked pale and drawn, really out of sorts.

“Yeah, thanks. I just need a word with Agent Coulson.”

Katie nodded to show she understood and made to stand up but Ward shook his head.

“Actually, stay.” He stopped her.  “It concerns the team so…

Katie shrugged and settled back down in her chair.

“Alright Ward, what is it?” Coulson asked as the man took a seat next to Katie on the other side of the desk.

“I don’t think back to childhood. Ever. As you know.” He looked at Katie and she looked down. He’d told her about his childhood, he’d had an older brother that had been abusive, as had his father. “There are things I put away a long time ago because I have to be focused, tactical. I can’t be distracted. Especially by things that happened a lifetime ago. But before, when I touched that thing… I did.”

“Touching the staff brought back memories?” Katie asked, curiously. Ward nodded and looked at her “My worst memory”. He paused for a moment and when he spoke again she was surprised to hear his voice was breaking slightly. “The first time I felt hate. And it won’t go away.

The room fell silent and Katie looked at Coulson who took a deep breath and broke the silence.

“You’ve got some rage built up?” Coulson asked. Ward looked at him and nodded. “Maybe it’s time to let it out.”

“Put our theory to the test.” Katie grinned, catching on.

Coulson nodded “I can run with that. ***** “You wanted to see me sir.” Steve stepped into the Directors office.

“Close the door Captain.” Fury instructed. Steve turned, did as he was told and then strode over to Fury’s desk.

“Have you spoken to Agent Stark today?”

Steve frowned. “Not today, no. I spoke to her last night.”

“What did she tell you about the mission?”

He was digging. Digging to see how much he knew and if Katie had kept her word. Swallowing down the annoyance he levelled the Director with a look that would have anyone else quaking in their boots.

“Nothing. All I know is she’s in Seville, and the team she’s working with contains Ward.” He drew himself a bit taller, hands falling to the buckle of his belt. “Which, for the record, was a real shitty thing to do.” Fury looked at Steve “I’m not having the teams I organise dictated by personal issues, Captain. “I don’t expect them to be.” Steve bit back. “But not warning her beforehand was out of order.” “Would she have gone if I’d have told her?” Steve hesitated, he didn’t actually know the answer to that. In actual fact she would have probably been torn, torn between wanting to take the mission, torn between not wanting to spend time in his vicinity. And knowing Katie as he did, the mission would have probably won.”

“I don’t know.” He replied honestly. “I think she would have wanted to do the right thing, I just don’t think all the lies are fair, its manipulative.”

“All the lies, Captain?” Fury looked at him and Steve felt himself pale. “What other lies has she told you about?” “Nothing. It was a figure of speech.” “So she hasn’t told you Coulson’s still alive?”

Steve put on what he hoped was his best shocked face. “What?”

Fury laughed. ”Your acting is as bad as your lying, Captain.”

Steve sighed before immediately going on the defensive. “You gonna de-badge her? I mean that’s what you told her isn’t it? Her job was on the line unless she lied for you?” Fury sighed “I didn’t want to do that. In hindsight I realised it was unfair to ask her to keep it from you. But it’s imperative that no one else finds out about this.”

“Secrets and lies huh?” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“We conduct our most effective work in the shadows, Captain, it’s just how it needs to be.” Steve looked to the side, his hands moving to his hips.

“Look, if you both wanna take a few days off when she’s back, it can be arranged.” Fury looked at him and Steve frowned at the man’s outward display of compassion.

“Feeling guilty?”

“Happens to the most cold hearted of us all.” Fury deadpanned. “And I figured you both might need it.” “Both of us?” Steve frowned, looking at him.

“Yeah, I didn’t just bring you up here to talk about Stark.” Fury picked up a remote and turned on the screen. A map flashed up and Steve took a deep breath. “Agent Romanoff has been undercover this last week tracking down more Chitauri weapons. This time to Yemen. I need you to organise an op.”

Steve folded his arms and let out a deep breath. “You just keep on giving, don’t you Nick?”

****

Their theory was right. Elliot Randalph was Asgardian, a fact he displayed by easily bending the blade of a knife that Ward threatened him with.

“I had no clue. Did you?” Fitz looked over at Simmons who shook her head. “Hidden in plain sight, an actual Asgardian. Brilliant.” Simmons grinned, staring at the screen. “How long do you suppose he’s been on our planet?” Skye asked. “A thousand years, maybe more.” Katie shrugged, turning her attention from the screen she’d been watching Elliot confess on to look at the team.

"If we could just cut him open a little…” Simmons mused

Katie and Skye both looked at her, Fitz was nodding his head in agreement. “…get some tissue samples, maybe some bodily fluids, think of all the things we could find out.” She finished. “Or we could just ask him them, weirdo” Skye rolled her eyes. “This is way, way better than the History Channel. I mean this guy has lived through all the scary stuff, the Crusades, the Black Death, Disco.”

“It is pretty exciting.” Katie agreed. “I mean Coulson thought finding Steve was cool but, he’d just slept for seventy years.”

Sky grinned as Agent May entered the room, holding a tablet and hitting various buttons on it. “What are you doing?” She asked, curiously.

“Sealing the interrogation room door.” May replied. Katie looked at her, the confusion she was feeling clearly evident on her face as May shrugged “Coulson’s orders.”

“Ah, locking me in.” Elliot said as Katie turned her attention back to the screen. “Well, I’ve been in tighter spots.” “This room is made of a silicon carbide-coated vibranium alloy.” Ward explained “Meant for prisoners like yourself.” “But you’re in here, too. And eventually somebody will open that door”. “Not if I tell them not to.”  Coulson shrugged, sitting in the chair opposite Elliot. “So the myth is your autobiography.” “ I didn’t write it. I didn’t want anyone to know about me. Then I had to open my big mouth.” He sighed “Were you captured? Tortured?”

“Horny.” Elliot shrugged and Katie let out a snort. “I met a French girl in 1546. Ah, she loved stories. So…I told her a great one. All about the peaceful Asgardian warrior who stayed. Now, how was I to know her brother, the priest, would write it all down and turn it into, I don’t know, a thing?”

“Do you know Thor?” Coulson continued the questions.

“Oh sure. I spent all my days palling around with the future King of Asgard” Elliot rolled his eyes “No, I don’t know Thor. I was a mason. I broke rocks” He chuckled. “For thousands of years. If you can imagine that. So when they came, asking for people to fight, yes, of course I signed up. I think, really, I just wanted to travel.” “ But you had the staff.” Ward stated. “I hated that thing. Other guys loved all the power that comes with the rage. No, I didn’t like it at all.” He cocked his head to Ward and leant in closer. “And you don’t, either, it seems.” “What did it do to me?” “ It shines a light into your dark places. Doesn’t matter if you’re human, Asgardian, the effect is the same. Unpleasant.” “Shines a light” Simmons scoffed “that’s no explanation”. “It was forged from a rare metal and reacts to whoever is holding it. Or interacts.” Elliot carried on. “I went to such great lengths to make sure that the staff wasn’t found. Unfortunately, since the myth was written down, people have been searching for it for centuries.” “I need your help to stop them before they get the last piece of your staff.” Coulson said, leaning on the table. “Oh, I’m a pacifist now.” Elliot shook his head, leaning back. “And you don’t want to risk your identity being discovered.” Coulson carried on “Listen, I wouldn’t worry too much about these angry youths. They always clam down, and eventually, they die of old age. And that is one of the pleasant aspects of life here. Everything changes.” “I’ll tell you what’s gonna change, your anonymity, unless you help us find the final piece of your staff.” Coulson sighed. “You may not know Thor, but I do, and he’s very fond of Agent Stark so…” Elliot slouched on the table in front of him glaring up at Coulson, before he shrugged and sat up a bit. 

“My first love on this planet was Ireland.” He said quietly.“There was a monastery and the monks gave a nice, warm place to sleep, some soup and some mulled wine.” “Near God.” Katie muttered, looking at Sky who triumphantly slammed her hand on the desk.

“I’ll go set the course for Ireland.” May said, nodding.

“Make it fast.” Katie said, as the woman looked at her. “Let’s get the rest of that damned thing before it hurts anyone else.”

**** Chapter 10

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark #mcu fanfic #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

[novantinuum]

Tides of Renewal (SU one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (Mild TW for vague allusions to past suicidal thoughts.)

Words: 2500~

Summary: Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

Hi folks! This is actually my two-months-late “Happy Birthday, Steven” fic, ahah- amusingly, posted two months late to the day. I’m quite happy with how this short turned out.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Tides of Renewal

Steven rises alongside the sun, but not by choice.

As he abruptly stirs, jerking onto his side under his tangled blanket, he soon realizes that he has little lingering memory of the nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Nevertheless, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s hanging in his throat. There’s feelings, faint impressions— someone’s blood (his, or hers?), Connie’s screams, a bubble of terror boiling from within— but that’s all he’s left with. The young man clutches at his sheets, struggling to catch his breath as is the norm most mornings. Dim light sneaks in between the edges of the curtains, offering a rough estimate of the time.

Once it’s clear his chances of sleeping in have become null and void, he entices himself out of bed with the promise of buying himself a muffin at the local coffee shop later today, a birthday treat. His routine is sluggish, but precise. He uses the bathroom, throws on his swim trunks and a thin cotton shirt, downs the pills he forgot to take last night with a quick swig of water, carefully runs his fingers through his long curls to work out the tangles, and slips his feet into the flip flops he always leaves lying right at the foot of his bed.

The young adult only takes his guitar, phone, and keys with him as he walks the mile distance from his humble studio apartment to the public beach. Around him, the world is at peace. The only sound intermingling with the gentle ebb and flow of the Pacific at this hour of the morning is the chattering of puffins that nest on the large rock outcroppings in the tide pools nearby. The edge of his lip quirks up when he finally crosses that sacred boundary— the sidewalk meeting the shore— and removes his sandals, reveling in the satisfying, grainy texture of sand squishing between his toes. Hah... the beach. Funny, that. All his traveling these past years, from mountains, to prairies, to sprawling suburbs to wooded forest towns, and it only succeeded in deepening his childhood love for the familiarity of saltwater air and tourist-filled boardwalks. Still, the secluded, rustic charm of Haystack Cove is a far cry from the Beach City he grew up in. Different people, different sights, different types of seafood sold at the markets. This place feels like a home all his own, appropriately distant from the Gem influenced settlement he’d left behind.

He crosses the fine grained sands towards his favorite sitting spot, a hefty stone jutting out from the ground, its surface buffed to a glossy finish over the years by the high tides. The water’s still distant this early in the morning, glimmers of sunlight sparkling off of the foam and spray. Yawning, he plops himself down on the stone and lifts his guitar into his lap. He strums a few random chords as a warm-up before settling into an experimental melodic sequence.

As he plays, the early morning breeze teases at the ends of his shoulder-length hair, untied and let free in all its curly splendor. It’s still quite chilly, but with the sun peaking over the horizon behind him and not a cloud in sight, the air’s bound to heat up in no time. Steven inhales deeply, soaking in the salt and light and pushing away the shadows lurking at the periphery of his mind, that twitching, exhausting anxiety that never quite seems to leave him alone these days. Unfortunately, functional does not mean carefree. While far fewer in number then when he was a teen, he still runs into plenty of moments where he’s struck blind by particularly painful reminders of his past, his gem snapping into overdrive in an instant. He’s a bit better at coping in these moments now, and walking himself down from panic attacks, but deep-rooted traumas don’t simply melt away. With that in mind, at this point he suspects he’ll likely have to deal with a mixture of therapy and meds for the rest of his life. That’s fine, though. If that’s what it takes to be at peace. He’s thankfully reached a point in his recovery where he’s more than willing to work for it.

Startling him out of his roaming thoughts, his phone chimes to life, touting the same cheery ring tone he had as a kid. He gently sets his guitar down in the sand and fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, a silent bet as to who’s calling rising within his mind. Sure enough, his dad’s contact photo proudly greets him. Hah— he called it. Steven stifles a giggle as he hits accept and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hey, Schtu-ball!” his father chimes from the other side of the country, three hours ahead. He hears a faint shuffle over the line, and then the beginnings of guitar accompaniment as the man begins to sing:

“Happy birthday to you~!”

Dad ends the line with a resounding vibrato, and a few extra jazzy chords for good measure.

“Heh heh, thanks,” he says, bashfully blushing at the attention, and gazing across the loose sands as if ensuring the secret of his birth hasn’t swelled into a nauseatingly public affair like half of his birthdays had since the start of Era 3. “Gotta say, the impromptu guitar solo pushed that to a whole new level. You just get up?”

“Yep! Bright and early. Garnet said you’d probably be awake by now, so I figured I’d call and give ya’ a good greeting to start the day. Lemme guess, you’re down there at the beach already? I think I heard waves.”

Steven’s glance lifts to admire the slowly rising tides, and the promise of each tomorrow that lies beyond. “Hah, you know me,” he says softly, taking a deep lungful of that precious salt-touched air he’s always adored. “I live for the water. Might force myself to go for a swim later before all of you come. Not sure yet,” he says, shrugging as he turns and squints in the wake of the steadily rising sun. “But my therapist said I should probably keep as active as po—“

“It’s your birthday. You do whatever makes you happy, bud,” his dad promptly reminds him, slight concern sticking to his voice. And yes, it’s practically a father’s job to worry, but his chest tightens with lingering guilt for pressing that upon him anyways. Ugh, this is because he said ‘force myself,’ isn’t it?

“Doing my best to,” he lamely offers, hoping it’ll at least end that segment of conversation. He twirls a stray strand of hair around his finger as he scours his memory for something new to offer. Thankfully, his mind quickly lands on the exciting email he received last night. He grins, knowing for sure his dad’ll love this. “Oh, uh- topic change, but I got that last job I applied for, by the way.”

“Oh? The taffy shop one?”

“Yeah! I start on Tuesday.”

“Wow, that’s- that’s awesome! They responded fast, then.”

“Yup,” Steven nods, popping the ‘p.’ “Honestly, it’s nothing much, just stocking and working the register, but it’ll give me some cash to work with.”

Some cash to finally pay for his own food instead of continuously bumming money off his dad. There’s no way he can handle full month’s rent on his own with this minimum wage job, (who on Earth could in this economy), but it might be enough to cover the smaller things. Groceries, electricity, internet. That sorta stuff. Fidgeting on the edge of the stone outcropping, his bare toes dig narrow lines in the sand. He hasn’t really had this discussion with Dad yet, but the mere concept of being wholly reliant on other people steers his mind uncomfortably close to the I’m a Burden Zone. He’d far prefer to feel like he has a stake in the game.

“I know you said you don’t mind supporting me,” he continues in a hesitant tone, twirling his finger through one of his curls, “but I still feel kinda bad—“

“Don’t. I’d rather you not have to stress yourself to the bone about money like I did when I was your age.”

The line shakes for a second. He’s pretty sure he hears the faint clink of a bowl meeting the counter from his dad’s side.

“Dad...?”

“Sorry, bud. Just putting ya’ on speaker. Figured I’d make myself some instant oatmeal,” he says, his voice sounding a bit further away from the microphone. “Goodness, though. Twenty years. That still boggles the mind.”

He gives a soft laugh. “You’re telling me. Could’ve sworn I was twelve just yesterday. And to be honest, it’s... it’s kinda weird sometimes, you know?”

“What is?”

“Being another year older. ‘Cause... well, uh...”

Steven grits his teeth, searching for the most delicate manner in which he can discuss these emotions. The feelings of his past are a really hard topic to dwell on sometimes, even in therapy, and even though he and his dad have long since had scattered discussions about what a poor mental state he was in then, he doesn’t wanna upset him too much.

“There were definitely days I assumed I wouldn’t have a future, or didn’t want one to begin with,” he continues, throat thick. “Back during all the conflict, before Homeworld reformed. And even after that, when I was... you know. And things are better, now, they’re definitely a lot better. But the idea of a ‘future’... even if I’ve got a job, a home, a girlfriend... it’s still weird to think about, I guess.“

There’s a brief silence on the line as this vulnerable admission sinks in.

“Yeah,” Dad replies eventually, clear sorrow in his voice despite how careful he thought he was in phrasing these matters. “I hear ya’.”

With a quick nervous laugh, he scratches at the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing against the thin, wispy strands of hair growing back there. “Geeze, sorry for bringing the mood down so quick. Didn’t even know I had all that on my mind until it spilled right out.”

“No, no! No need for apologies, I’m always here to listen. And in any case, I’m glad you’re in a better place now.”

Steven nods his head to himself in full agreement (momentarily forgetting that his dad isn’t actually here in the flesh to see this response). Sixteen and seventeen really, really weren’t good years for him. And even though he’s put lot of work into himself since then, he can’t help but constantly fear the possibility of relapse. His therapist told him a few sessions ago when he expressed this worry that... relapses into old thinking patterns can be common for people living with C-PSTD, and that it’s important for him to be cognizant of any unusual changes in his patterns and routines so he can quickly intervene with his box of healthy coping tactics, but... geeze. The dark, traumatic destinations his wandering thoughts end up stagnating in when the concept of relapse brushes his mind aren’t fun to acknowledge. It makes him yearn with deafening hunger for a simple switch he could flip, some magic cure-all for his brain that would stop him from having to deal with any of this awful shit in the first place— but of course, cruel universe this can be at times, those don’t exist.

“Speaking of that,” Dad speaks up again after clearing his throat, “how are those new meds treating you? You said last call your doctor was gonna change them, yes?”

“Nah, not change. There’s no need to change types,” he shrugs. “It’s just a dosage shift. And it’s fine, I think. I’ve been on ‘em for a few days, and there’s no problems so far. Brain's been treating me a little better.”

Nightmares aren’t quite as bad.

His energy isn’t totally zapped by noon.

The whirling, panicked trajectory of his thought patterns is a little easier to wrest control of.

All in all, nothing’s perfect, but he certainly feels a good deal more stable than before. Now, if only he can remember to consistently take his meds before he goes to bed like he’s supposed to instead of totally forgetting like he did last night and having to scarf it down when he sees that forsaken capsule in his pill box the next morning. Tsk, tsk.

“That’s real good to hear,” his dad responds to his news.

He flexes his knuckles against his lap, gaze reflexively drifting back towards the welcomed distraction of the tides. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, I, uh...”

“So, party logistics,” he cuts in with an overly cheery tone, changing the topic from his boring mental health crap entirely. “We should probably hash this out now. I know Connie’s planning on dropping around about noon. What’s your guys’ plan? She can probably send Lion to you after she gets here, if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Pearl said there weren’t any convenient warps nearby. Well, there’s one- but apparently it empties out into an active lava tube. And that’s not exactly Dad-friendly.”

“Aww, you mean you’re not filled with the intense desire to dip your hand into molten lava and shlorp it up like it’s soup?” Steven retorts, only barely holding back his laughter as he thinks of this absurd text thread he had going with Connie a few weeks back, wherein she sent him a video of some volcanic flows and told him, verbatim, that 'despite all logic and reason sometimes I can’t help but look at super viscous lava and think... forbidden s o u p, mmmm.’

“Not particularly, no,” his dad says, sounding thoroughly confused. “I’m- why are you laughing? Is this some sort of weird internet thing I’m not familiar with again?”

He wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. “You, ah- you kinda had to be there, sorry. Anyways, yeah. I’ll have Connie send Lion. I’ll text you right before, how’s that?”

“Sounds great! Can’t wait to see ya’, bud. I’m gonna let you go, now, okay? I can talk your ears off later. Go enjoy your morning. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” he says, grinning. “Bye.”

“Buh-bye.”

Once his dad hangs up he sets his phone beside him on the rock and takes a deep, steady breath, trying to capture the full nuance of each diverse scent in the air. He may just be imagining it, but he swears he’s able to pick out the faint scent of taffy intermingling with the ocean saltiness and the hint of cedar from the nearby state forest. In the end though, whether it’s real or not it’s a welcomed reminder of all the possibility the future holds for him.

He’s twenty now. It’s a brand new decade of life. He’s got a new job lined up, a stable and loving relationship, a supportive family, and plenty of courage in facing the shadows of his past. Sure, so maybe he’ll never know with certainty what will happen— maybe he’ll relapse a little, maybe he’ll still have some bad days sprinkled amongst the good ones— but as he watches the tides flow in to greet him, he smiles... and resolves to just take this year as a renewal of his vow to care for himself as best he can.

#su #su future #steven universe #greg universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff