#i tried so goddamn hard for 8+ hours before eventually just giving in and going to sleep

[fruitshake]

adhd/autism is so frustrating because throughout the months/years you've learned what rules you have to follow to have a good day, but when you don't follow those rules your whole day falls apart, no matter what you do

#i tried so goddamn hard for 8+ hours before eventually just giving in and going to sleep #maybe had a succesful hour in there #i even tried out like half of my breaks to feel better but it just never did #hhhhhhhhhh #i even wrote down my own rules!!!!!!! but when i checked yesterday i crossed 3 of them and apparantly those were deadly. orz #no sugar no phone in the morning and take a shower when you want not when you think is acceptable #i was going to swim but it got cancelled i sholdve just showered immedeatielt #anyways. it's good to find out what rules you have to live by but it's so cruel to have to follow them each day #my cat was so cute though...... cuddling me while i was trying to get up...... why is he deadly #my text #ok to reblog #adhd #autism

[everygame]

Death Stranding (PS4)

Developed/Published by: Kojima Productions / Sony Interactive Entertainment Released: 8/11/2019 Completed: 02/10/2023 Completion: Finished it, but didn’t get everyone to five stars or anything. Trophies / Achievements: 69%

I didn’t expect to play this before working my way through the rest of the Metal Gear franchise, but to be honest I kind of lost my place there and I got antsy that the online stuff in the PS4 version of this would go away, so I thought I’d best get to it.

On starting this, there is such huge “Oh Kojima, never change” energy as you’re very quickly (or rather, “after a lot of long cut scenes”) having to carry your dead mum, who is also the president, up a hill to chuck her in an incinerator, because otherwise her body will explode leveling a massive chunk of the eastern seaboard (er, again.)

I mean… that’s an opening.

Here’s what I’ll say about Death Stranding: It’s weirdly compelling. And I mean weirdly. There’s really not that much to it. You get packages and you deliver them. While you’re delivering them, you have to avoid “BTs” which basically amount to stealth sections where you crawl around slowly, creating pulses to see the enemies who are basically blind unless you walk into them, and you also have to avoid marauders, who definitely aren’t blind but you can at least run away from them. And for ages, that’s really all you do.

You actually get into a sort of groove with it, especially once you get about a third of the way into it and you begin to upgrade infrastructure. I don’t know if Hideo Kojima set out to make people feel this way, but I became an infrastructure nut. If there was a highway to build, fuck the story! I had to build that goddamned highway, because there’s nothing as satisfying as coasting over a previously agonizing BT area with a truck full of several tons of useless stuff that will probably get you enough materials to build some more highway.

Of course… doing this is also… boring. I mean the core game isn’t actually that… interesting. You know when you like, go for a long walk with your headphones on? The game is almost a “long walk with headphones on” simulator, that for a big chunk of the middle part is actually “long drive with the radio on”. But you’re not really going anywhere.

The weird thing is that the game gets worse when it tries to not be that. The game eventually introduces clumsy but classic combat with shooty guns, and there are several boss battles that are just horrible as you run around shooting dudes awkwardly. I sincerely doubt Kojima had any pressure on him to put shooting in this, so it just seems like such a failure of imagination to come so close to making a non-violent video game and then ending up putting a lot of violence in it after all?

I mean really the problem is that the game is just way, way too fucking long, and it’s not even the fault of cut-scenes. Every couple of hours someone goes “Sam, we need you to connect another 3 random dicks to the network” and then you have to off and do it, and while the game does its best to give you some variety, no one noticed it would be annoying every time you had to go back to shlepping about on foot rather than whizzing about in a truck (there’s an entire section in the mountains which is just desperately putting as many zip-lines down as possible because it’s such a huge pain in the arse otherwise.) By the end I was exhausted of this, which is a shame, because I didn’t even fully complete the highway network after getting such a hard-on for it. Some of those material requirements were just taking the piss.

Anyway. Once I was bored of it I went to finish it and oops, “never change, Kojima” because the last 20 minutes of gameplay took me… five… six hours? I stopped at one point to make a cheese and beetroot sandwich (only god can judge me) so maybe that added a few minutes of time but there’s literally a point where you’re supposed to stand around on a beach waiting for half an hour so the cutscenes will continue. What was I saying about taking the piss?

The worst thing about that though is that the game actually does, mostly, start to make sense, and ends in quite a touching way, but it takes so unnecessarily long to get there as cut-scenes show you, at length, things you’ve already seen. It’s horribly paced, and it’s transparently flawed that if I’m going to play this for literally 54 hours you probably shouldn’t cram almost the entire story into the last five. 

I don’t even know if it’s self indulgence that this is as bloated as it is–I think it’s more that this is what AAA video games are. There’s an indie scale version of this that takes a quarter of the time that would be amazing, but, well, that’s not what we got. 

Will I ever play it again? I played the original version rather than the director’s cut because I wanted Sam to drink Monster Energy and he doesn’t even do that once you’re about half-way through the game! There’s not much difference though outside of being able to take a floating carrier on a zip line which in retrospect I sorely missed. But no, no reason to play this again, I’ve rinsed it.

Final Thought: For a game that’s about the connections Sam made and where you absolutely feel like you’ve traveled across an entire continent, it’s also really weird that there’s no sense of ceremony to your last trip back; I was expecting one of those victory laps where you meet the characters you’ve worked with across the game as you go and you reflect on how you changed their lives, but nothing like that happens. It’s not like I wanted the game to be longer, admittedly.

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#video games #gaming #games #txt #text #review #ps4 #playstation 4 #death stranding #kojima productions #hideo kojima #sony interactive entertainment #2019

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

So I was being a basic bitch the other day and listening to my true crime podcasts when it occurred to me just how suspicious Nile’s “death” would look to everyone not in the Guard, leading me to a train of thought that, 2200 words later, absolutely got away from me but I can’t let go so I’m inflicting it on all of you!

To set the stage, we know the movie takes place over approximately a week. Here’s what happens to Nile from the military’s point of view:

She dies is very seriously injured

She heals without a scratch

Just before she’s supposed to be shipped out to Germany, she vanishes, leaving two men concussed (and presumably reporting being knocked out by a woman with short hair wearing civilian clothes)

She goes AWOL for several days

They get word from the CIA that she is to be reported killed in action (details unclear)

So, at the beginning of this very weird week, the USMC has to tell Nile’s family of her death critical injury. What her family was told depends on how long she was dead – a Google search tells me that family will be notified in person within 8 hours of a soldier’s death, but we don’t know how long her first death lasted. For an injury, however, they’d get a phone call to notify them and the unit would arrange for them to visit as soon as the soldier is transferred out of a combat zone. Like I remember when I was in high school, a guy from my church who was a Marine was really seriously injured in a helicopter crash in Iraq and from what I could tell, his parents were told immediately and were flown out to Germany to see him, so it stands to reason that Nile’s family would have been informed relatively quickly after her throat was slashed, one way or another.

And then, she goes AWOL. Her family would be notified while the USMC tried to figure out where she went, not least because the military would want to know if she’s contacted them. (And it’s possible that her family may have been on the way to Germany to see her since we know that’s where she was supposed to go!) So for several days:

Nile’s mom and brother have no idea where she is

They know she was seriously injured and most certainly should not have been moving around on her own

They can’t get a hold of her

The military can’t tell them anything

And the next thing they know for sure is that she was “killed in action.” After being injured and vanishing into thin air. And they presumably cannot produce her body or any concrete evidence of her death. In any case, something sketchy is going on, so they’re like. SMELLS LIKE A MILITARY COVERUP.

In a surprise to probably no one, there is a well-documented legacy of mysterious US military deaths, particularly of women of color (TW for sexual assault in these links). The cases of LaVena Johnson and Vanessa Guillenin particular have made national news because of their families’ persistence in seeking justice. Likewise, Nile is a Black woman, and her mom and brother are most certainly hypercognizant of (a) state violence against Black people and (b) these high-profile cases of suspicious military deaths. So her family are seriously side-eyeing the situation, knowing that (a) the military has a serious incentive (and a documented history) of covering up things that make them look bad and (b) nothing about Nile’s disappearance and supposed death are adding up.

And Andy’s right. Nile does come from warriors. And you know who else does? Her brother.

Don’t get me wrong. Nile’s mom would absolutely not back down. She’d know something was up and want to get to the bottom of it. But based on what I know about Gen X parents (mine), they’re not the most technologically savvy. Like they can use the internet, but they didn’t grow up with it the way we young millennials and Gen Z did. So Nile’s brother takes the lead. And what do zillennials do best?

Social media.

Nile’s brother starts going hard on any site he can, trying to get the word out to see if anyone knows what happened to his sister. He starts a Reddit thread. He starts a Facebook group. He reaches out to the media and true crime bloggers and podcasters à la Sarah Turney, getting loud and being a general nuisance in hopes of getting some answers. He gets his friends and Nile’s friends involved. Maybe eventually Dizzy, Jay, and others from Nile’s unit hear about it and reach out, telling him what they saw and how weird it all was. He’s drumming up interest, and soon “Nile Freeman” becomes a household name (at least among the true crime fans).

Copley is, of course, trying his best, but at this point there is just so much that it’s impossible for him to scrub everything. Sure, he can erase new footage of Nile and the Guard, but what can he do about Reddit threads and podcast episodes that are speculating something weird has happened? Maybe he could hack the sites and shut those things down, but honestly, that’s the last thing he’d want to do, because that only adds weight to the theory that Nile’s disappearance is a military coverup. So eventually he has to tell Andy what’s going on.

Andy, obviously, does not take the news well. However, she is also completely computer illiterate, because that’s Booker’s job and he’s the only one who ever bothered to learn what the internet is in any meaningful way. (She probably calls Booker for advice, and for the record, I think Booker would have no qualms about shutting down conspiracy threads, tinhats be damned, but Copley is too concerned about the consequences. He’s ex-CIA for crying out loud, he knows how it’ll look if they scrub every mention of Nile’s name from the internet.) Maybe she confers with Joe and Nicky but, let’s be honest, they’d be equally unhelpful. So at this point, she knows they have to bring in Nile.

But the thing about Nile is that she, too, knows how to use the internet (duh). Aside from her being a young millennial/digital native, we know from the cave scene where she’s giving Booker suggestions on how to track Copley that she clearly is even more computer savvy than the average person. And for that reason she almost definitely took over the day-to-day tech stuff after Booker’s exile. So I think it would be foolish to expect her to be unaware of what’s happening. She’s not contacting her family or posting on the message boards or anything, but she knows what’s up. So Copley and the team probably sit her down to “break the news,” but we know the girl does not have a poker face (see: literally shooting herself in the foot and not being able to play it cool whatsoever) and cracks immediately, telling them she’s seen everything about her case – she’s not interacting with any of it, she certainly didn’t instigate anything, but she knows. (And she is so goddamn proud of her brother.)

At this point, I’d like to pause and consider Nile’s role in the overall narrative of this movie. She’s set up as a foil to Andy, obviously, but she’s also a foil to Booker. Booker, who, like Andy, is a serious pessimist, but who, unlike Andy, still has very fresh memories and trauma associated with being the new kid, which have destroyed him. In his mind (and Andy’s), if Nile communicates with her family, she’ll become just like him in a century or two – bitter, alone, and stuck with her grief and memories of watching her family die and knowing they died resenting her. It’s a small sample size, but this is the only experience they have to go off of.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

There’s been a lot of discussion of TOG being a fundamentally queer movie – a group of people brought together because of something inherent about themselves that is different, that must be hidden, that causes others to hate, fear, and reject them. Booker’s backstory is the archetypal traumatic “coming out” story – his family learns who he is, hate him for it, and attempt to cast him out of their lives. He’s stuck with his trauma, his pain, his loss, and it consumes him.

But what if Nile’s family would be the opposite? What if her “coming out” to them as immortal is met with acceptance, love, celebration? What if her family is just overjoyed to have her back, and they don’t care what the circumstances are? I'm reminded of this incredible post from @shitty-old-guard-deaths a while back, where Nile’s mother hits Booker with a frying pan because “my baby let me believe she was dead for FIVE YEARS based on your bad advice???” (which may or may not have inspired this whole tangent). Nile takes the advice of someone who did the same thing she wants to do because she doesn’t want to risk her family’s rejection. She wants the good memories with her family and is afraid that showing them her true self will bring her unbearable pain, forever replacing those memories. But, with high risk comes high reward.

Anyway. Nile and the team are trying to come up with a plan for how to handle this whole thing, but she’s not really participating because she’s too afraid to hope. Until finally, quickly, so she doesn’t lose her nerve, she suggests she reach out to them, knowing that, realistically, that’s the only solution before things snowball even further out of control. The team is shocked, but realize that she has a point. They decide that Copley should actually be the first point of contact, posing as a US government official to talk with them and test the waters.

So Copley goes to Nile’s family’s house to talk with her mom and brother. They’re probably distrustful and apprehensive, but nonetheless secretly ecstatic that their work has paid off. They talk and review all of the information that they’ve collected, including testimonials from the people on Nile’s base and recent sightings (along with photos) of Nile (with the same three people) over the last few years that people have sent them but they haven’t posted publicly. At this point, Copley’s like, yeah this is about to blow up, we gotta put our cards on the table. He convinces them to come with him to some safe house/black site/whatever he can get that is technologically impenetrable (I’m picturing them in like, an interrogation room at a police station kind of deal), takes their phones, locks the doors, and brings in Nile.

What follows is the most delightful reunion scene of all time, bringing Joe, Nicky, and even Andy to tears as they watch and listen from outside the room. With Copley’s help, Nile tells her mom and brother about her immortality and what’s been going on since she died (within reason, of course), and they are thrilled. They don’t understand why (because no one does) but they don’t question it and they see it as a gift from God – she’s been resurrected, she will live, and she has a purpose. Her mother and brother are so happy to see her again and are willing to agree with pretty much anything to stay in her life as long as they can.

So. They set up some complicated agreement (they bring in the other three for support/intimidation as needed) setting the terms of their relationship. They swear Nile’s family to secrecy, maybe bringing up the lab to show how high the stakes are, and they readily agree. They come up with some cover story for Nile’s brother to share on the message boards (maybe that the government has opened an investigation but because it’s an open case he has to shut it all down? Tells people to direct their tips somewhere else? Something to that effect). There’s still speculation, of course, but without Nile’s brother at the helm providing the energy, the hype dies down as news stories are wont to do without any movement. And Nile’s family goes to work for the team. The experience has taught them that Copley can’t possibly do everything himself, especially when it comes to social media, so Nile’s brother takes the lead on the day-to-day tracking/social media while Copley and her mom focus on finding jobs and scrubbing their traces afterward.

So there you have it: Nile gets to integrate her biological family into her found family and spend the rest of their lives with them as it should be, Copley gets some badly needed help managing the reality of social media, the team finally has a positive narrative surrounding outsiders Knowing About Them AND about interacting with people from their previous life, and the audience gets the happy ending to this very lovely and very queer story to counteract the pain associated with Booker’s family.

Plus, you know, I’m a sucker for both a good government conspiracy theory and for Nile getting every good thing she deserves.

#the old guard #tog #tog fanfiction #tog meta #immortal family #nile freeman #mine #damn look at me contributing to a fandom! that’s new #pls reblog if you like this my self esteem could really use it #I just love nile so much and I’m being the nile-centric content I want to see in the world #it is just genuinely nuts to think abt how this situation would be perceived by anyone outside the narrative #she just mysteriously heals from a fatal injury and then VANISHES!!! this should be national fuckin news #also I do think there’s a major hole in the story when you think abt social media #like the only time it’s even hinted at is right at the very beginning when Andy erases that girl’s selfie #and the concept of fuckin Reddit is not even brought up despite Copley’s stalker board being analog Reddit #there’s just a lot of places one could go with this which is very much what we got here #1k

[felix21im]

"Ice Cold", a Leon Kennedy x reader fanfiction

As an Art and Design student all you want to do is just knuckle down and finish that one goddamn piece you've been working on for months. Too bad your time is constantly stolen by your Waiter job with minimal pay, but hey, at least the tips are good if you unbutton your shirt that one more time.

Masterlist

Chapter 8: Alone

You woke up early the next morning. The sun shone through the big window next to your bed and warmed your skin. You slowly opened your eyes and looked over to Leon. His breathing was calm so you figured he was still sleeping. You made sure to get up quietly, making sure not to wake Leon up.

You went to the bathroom to have a quick shower and change into something nice to wear. Since the weather was good you chose a white polo shirt and some shorts. After brushing your teeth and styling your hair you went back to the bedroom and sat down on Leon‘s side. You brushed some hair out of his face and placed a kiss on his forehead. You felt him move and he slowly opened his eyes. “Good morning, Sleepy. I hope you don't mind me waking you up.” Leon covered his eyes with his arms to prevent the sun from shining in his face. He didn't answer you but instead grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his arms. You chuckled lightly as he hid his head in your chest, reminding you of a little kid. You two lay there for a few more minutes before you sat up again next to him. “Come on now, Leon. You wanted to go out to eat breakfast, right? So get up!” You turned around to see him lying on his stomach and hiding under the blanket. You shook your head and laughed as you began pushing him out of the bed until the thud of him falling on the floor was heard, followed by subtle laughter. Moments later Leon lay on the ground beside the bed looking as tired as ever. You were laughing too hard so you didn't even hear him standing up and grabbing a pillow from the bed. The next thing you felt was the soft cushion hitting your face, stopping your laughing. You looked at Leon surprised and opened your mouth to say something but before you had the chance to, another pillow was thrown into your direction. You stood up from the bed and grabbed the two pillows Leon threw at you before. Instead of throwing them at him though, you ran around the bed and started hitting Leon with them. Leon was able to take one of the pillows out of your hand and tried defending himself. At some point you two were laughing too hard and didn't have the strength to continue fighting anymore. You lay on the bed together, legs hanging from the side. You turned and looked at Leon who was now also looking at you. “I love you, Leon.” You said with a smile on your face without even thinking twice about it. Leon looked at you surprised before saying it back after a short moment. He kissed you on the cheek before finally standing up and going to the bathroom. You let out a deep sigh as he closed the door behind him and closed your eyes for a second. You then decided to clean up the mess the two of you created and put the pillows and blanket into the bed again. After you were done you grabbed your phone and fixed your hair again. You didn't have to wait long before Leon came out of the bathroom. He was wearing some dark jeans and a light blue button up. His hair was also looking as perfect as ever, no signs of the pillow fight from before. You grinned at him as you stood up.

“Ready to leave, Buttercup?” He asked as he grabbed his wallet and his fancy sunglasses. You nodded as you put on some sneakers and put your phone in your pocket.

You realized you didn't bring sunglasses so you looked at Leon and pointed at his pair. “You don't have another pair of sunglasses by any chance, do you?”

Leon let out a small laugh and shook his head. “You didn't bring your own? Give me a second, I think I actually have another pair.” He turned around and went over to his suitcase to look for them. A few minutes later he came back to you and handed you some fancy looking round sunglasses. You thanked him as you put them on and opened the door. You two left the room together and walked the long hallway to the front door.

As you left the building the morning sun was already hot and warmed your skin. You took a deep breath as you looked around the front yard.

Your face went back to Leon as you heard him unwrapping a piece of paper. As it turns out it was a map of the city, which made you laugh. “A map? Really Leon? You know we both have working phones, right? If you wanna go somewhere I can just look it up online.”

You went to grab your phone out of your pocket but Leon stopped you. “I want this day to be phone free. I just want to enjoy the time with you. And also using this map feels more like a vacation, don't you think?”

You let out a small laugh again as you nodded and put your phone back. “Alright, whatever you say, Mr. Kennedy.” Leon also smiled now and soon after began walking into one direction. You quickly followed and put your hand in his to keep up.

Leon led you through the streets and as the day started more and more people filled the streets around you. He ended up leading you to a small bakery and brought you to a small table outside. It felt like you had been walking for days when realistically it was only a few hours. “Perhaps some breakfast will help you walk a bit faster?” Leon chuckled as he poked at your slow walking pace.

You rolled your eyes as you sat down at one of the tables outside of the bakery. “Not all of us are superstar athletes, Leon.” He still continued his laugh as he sat down too. “Oooo! Pastries!” You got excited at the selection of foods available, back home it would always be quickly bought junk food as neither you nor your roommate had time to cook.

“You like pastry?” Leon looked up from the menu. “You could have just asked Angel if that's what you ever wanted, we would have bought it specifically for you.”

Your face went hot from the embarrassment. “Oh please no, I’m honestly so grateful when Angel cooks for me, I don't want her to think I’m taking advantage by ordering something specific…”

“How about I ask then?” He smirked as he then looked back down at the menu. “I think I'm going to go for the brioche and some coffee.” He announced as he then tucked his menu back to where he found it.

You smiled at him as you began to read out what you were struggling to pick from. "I’m not sure if I want to go with the pain au chocolat or the cornetto…”

“Well the first one is actually French so that depends on if you want to stick to italian foods or not, but personally…” He scratched the back of his head. “I think both.”

“Both?” You flurried your eyebrows. “I’m not that hungry Leon, a-and these are expensive! Twelve euros for a coffee?!” You whisper-shouted for the last part, sure they were extortionate prices but maybe it was worth it?

“Really, Buttercup? You do realise that money isn’t an issue, right?” He smirked.

“I just feel guilty spending your money, that’s all..”

“Trust me, Buttercup. I like seeing yo-”

“Buongiorno!” A small woman exited the front of the bakery with a notepad and a pen in her hand. “What can I get for the two of you?” She asked as she looked at Leon so he went first.

“Would I be able to get the brioche and a shot of espresso?” He asked politely as he gave her his million dollar smile.

“And for the compagno?” She asked as she wrote down Leon’s order.

Just as you were about to state your order Leon did it for you. “They’ll have both the pain au chocolat and the cornetto, with a moka coffee please.” Leon then turned his head to smile at you as you chuckled and smiled back. The waitress nodded her head and then went back into the bakery, preparing your food. “Now you get to try them both.”

“I have had them both before, you know…” You shook your head at him.

“Oh… Well now you get to try them… Italian style!” He smiled again as he dramatically waved his hands, emphasising the ‘Italian style.’ You simply rolled your eyes at him and smiled. The two of you waited quite a while for your food but it didn't annoy either of you as it simply meant that it was being made fresh for you, besides it also gave you time to look at the view of both the ocean and Leon. Considering you never left the US and you stayed landlocked you've never actually seen the ocean before, sure you saw big lakes and stuff but this was so much more intense. Not only was it humongous it was almost crystal clear. “How about we go snorkeling or something once I'm back?” Leon suggested.

“I would love that.” You nodded your head and just as you answered your waitress came over with your dishes and drinks. You simply squealed to yourself as your senses engulfed the food that sat before you, not even stopping to talk to Leon once. Eventually you looked up at him and you noticed he was simply smiling at you, lost in his thoughts as he watched you eat. “Leon?” You lightly waved at him and you raised your eyebrow.

He then snapped back to reality. “Sorry, just thinking about how at first you said you weren't very hungry.” He chuckled as he took a bite out of his own food.

“I guess pastries just do something to me?” You replied to him as you went back to eating your food. Leon simply took his time, he slowly drank his coffee and ate his bread as he looked at both you and the view on his left.

“Much different than the view at home. Here we get flowers, the ocean and beautiful trees, whereas at home we get a jungle… a concrete jungle..”

“How about in twenty years time when you retire, just move to Italy?” You joked at him in response to his little monologue about the different landscapes. “You can get a beautiful little villa on the mountain side that looks over the ocean, all you would need is three kids and a beautiful wife so that you can have the american, nuclear-family, dream.” You copied his hand gesture from earlier and chuckled.

“How would that be the american dream if i'm living in Italy?” He questioned as he placed his empty cup on the metal table.

“That was what stuck out to you about that entire bit?” You raised your eyebrow at him as you wiped your hands with your napkin. “Are you not going to eat your food?” You asked him as you looked down at his plate, him only being about halfway through.

“Sorry, sorry.” He picked up a piece. “I just wanted to take my time so we could be together longer. Just before we got here I got a text from Chris saying I had to meet him after we ate, thought I could drag it out as much as possible.” As he spoke he held out his free hand on the table, wanting you to place your hand in his. Obviously you accepted and he lightly squeezed it. You let him continue eating his food as the two of you sat in comfortable silence until the waitress came and collected the dirty dishes, replacing them with two new coffees for the two of you.

You took another sip from your mug as you noticed how Leon's eyes scanned the area and he seemed to be deep in his thoughts again. You put your mug on the table again and searched his eyes. He didn't notice you staring and only reacted when you mentioned his name. "Leon? You still there?" You snapped your fingers in front of him, making sure he was listening.

Leon turned his head and faced you. "Oh, sorry Buttercup. Did you say anything?"

You shook your head in response before talking again. "I'm worried about you, Leon. Even though we're here together, you seem so far away. Are you really okay?" You looked at him with puppy eyes and reached out to his hand. He just shook his head and looked away again. You sighed and felt hopeless. It was the first time Leon took you with him on a big mission, so of course you were worried. You always were when he was away, even though it wasn't the first time for him to do this stuff. Whatever it really was that he was doing now.

"Leon, please don't do this now. Tell me what's going on, maybe I can help you, distract you or whatever. Anything to help you, okay?" It took Leon a minute before finally giving it. He sighed as he rubbed his forehead.

"It's just.. this mission is different. I didn't get much information beforehand and I don't know. Something feels odd. And now that you're here, too, I'm just.. worried about you. Maybe it was the wrong idea to bring you with me." He said the last sentence more to himself than you, but you still understood every word of it. Even though he probably didn't mean it like that, you felt hurt. Did he think you were a helpless child who would only cause trouble? You didn't really know what to say but you had to do something about his mood.

"Leon. Listen to me. I don't know what you do all the time when you're gone, but you always manage. I'm sure everything will turn out fine, alright? And you don't have to worry about me. I'll stay inside the hotel or around your big bodyguards, I'm sure they could take care of tons of bad guys." You gave Leon an optimistic smile, hoping he would lighten up a bit.

"Yea, you're right. I guess. I just never.. had someone close to me in this kind of situation."

"Everything that matters now is that you're concentrated, Leon. If it helps you can tell me the information you already have, maybe we can work on this together. And who knows, maybe I'll end up being a better agent than you." You jokingly said and finally Leon let out a laugh as well. As you waited for his response you saw a pen on the table behind Leon so you ran to grab it, getting ready to write your notes on a clean napkin.

"Yea sure, whatever you say, Buttercup." You two continued joking for a while longer before ordering something else to drink. As the drinks were delivered to your table, you noticed someone sitting at a table close to you. You didn't know why exactly he caught your eye so you shrugged it off and continued talking to Leon. Soon he began talking about his mission and all the information he had. Which was, as he said before, really not much. All he knew was that someone in this city intended to initiate a virus-breakout similar to ones Leon had to fight before. You wrote down what he said but it wasn't really the equivalent to much. You sighed as you tried your best to help him out. Sure, he was a professional, but it was worth a shot. Especially if you could make him smile with your stupid ideas. In the end that's all that mattered to you, anyways.

You two continued chatting a while longer before Leon's phone suddenly rang. He excused himself, showing you who called. Chris. Leon stood up and left the table to talk to him in a more quiet place. You watched him walk away as you noticed the man from before staring at you again. He seemed to have seen you noticing since he suddenly looked away. You raised an eyebrow, a bad feeling growing in your stomach. Even though you were worried slightly, you didn't want to tell Leon. Maybe you were just starting to imagine things and you didn't want to make Leon worry any more. Speaking of him, he finally returned to the table. He didn't seem too happy though, so you knew what was coming next.

"Chris is already waiting for me. I guess I really tested his patience today. I'm sorry that it has to end so abruptly, Buttercup, but I really have to go now. We have new information and it seems like quite a big deal." Leon grabbed his wallet and handed it to you. "Get yourself something nice with it if you want. And don't forget to pay for our breakfast. I really need to go now, please be careful on your way home." He gave you a kiss on the forehead but you stopped him before he went to leave. "I love you, Leon. Don't worry about me and please come back soon.." He nodded lightly and gave you another kiss, this time on the mouth. You didn't want this moment to end but you knew there was no other option. You watched him leave and suddenly felt so alone and lost. Sitting down again you waited for someone to bring you the bill.

A few minutes passed until someone came over to your table, grabbing the last dirty cups. You asked them for the bill and after paying a ridiculous high amount of money for breakfast you left the table and went back to the main street. You sighed as you thought about what to do for the rest of the day since it was still not that late. With no destination in mind you just started following the street and seeing where it would take you.

Leon carefully closed the door behind him as he was escorted into the home. “Couldn’t have picked a basic home?” He shrugged as he looked over at Chris who was sitting at a table in the kitchen. “This mansion is fucking huge.”

“The fuck you mean?” He snarled at Leon as he pushed back the chair adjacent to him for Leon to sit in. “We’re in an upper class neighbourhood, it blends in.”

“Where’s Angel and Daisy?” Leon asked as he sat down in the chair and gestured at the two empty ones opposite him.

“Miss Badawi and Miss Chu are doing some recon.” He passed over a singular folder and Leon opened it to the first page.

“You call me by my first name, why not those two?” He always thought it was weird but now that it was just those two alone he actually was able to ask.

“Neither of them have passed the required rank for me to call them my equal, meaning they haven’t deserved the right yet."

“They’ve both saved your life countless times-”

“-Oh please! You think we care about validation from some old white man?” Angel laughed as both her and Daisy entered the room and sat down at the table.

Now that all three of them were sitting opposite Chris he could begin his briefing.

“We’re going to be heading to a small provenance called Valtorta, there’s no such thing as tourists there which means this is a stealth operation. Miss Chu, your favourite.” Daisy smiled and lightly clapped her hands together as she heard about the standards of the operation.

Angel raised her hand. “Miss Badawi?” Chris accepted.

“Where is Valtora?” She asked.

“Near the border of Italy and Switzerland.” He replied as he flicked Angel’s folder to the map page. “Around a two hour drive from Milan which is where we’re going to be starting after a three hour helicopter ride. Which means a five hour trip so that you kids can catch up on your podcasts or whatever it is that you guys do nowadays.”

“I’ve been listening to this really interesting podcast about a woman who kills her boss because he didn't give her a payrise… Pretty inspiring if you ask me.” Angel smirked as she looked towards her boss, Leon.

“Depends on how good you do after this operation, and if you can get some pastries for us to bring back home.” He replied as he looked up from the folder and at Angel.

“I think that’s a very fair trade, croissants for an extra one hundred percent markup on your pay?” Daisy smirked at her girlfriend.

“How about we focus on our jobs rather than the pay?” Chris interrupted them. “So the woman we’re looking for is Leona Capulet.” He placed a photo of the woman holding a small child onto the wooden table. “Forty five, six foot tall and batshit crazy.” He then placed another photo on the table. “For the last four years she’s been attempting to recreate another virus, called the LC-020-Virus. Ever since we found out about it we’ve been calling it the ‘Loco-virus’.”

“Let me guess…” Angel interrupted. “Rather than it turning you into a zombie it just makes you go crazy?”

“Bingo.” Chris nodded as he placed another picture on the table. “Blueprints of the town, and the suspected laboratory Capulet has been working in.”

“How have you got so much information?” Leon asked.

“Inside man.” Chris replied. “Capulet’s son, Valentino, has been helping us. Once his mother tried to use him for a human trial experiment he had enough and tried to shut her down. After failing he turned himself in and he’s been helping us for around four months now.”

“And you trust him?” Daisy asked as she looked at the picture of Leona. “How do we know it isn’t a trap?”

“The boy is a millionaire and he gets nothing out of betraying his family, it's personal to him.” Chris picked up his pictures from the table and placed them back into his folder. “But that doesn’t mean we can fully trust him, we all need to stay vigilant.” Chris stood out of his chair and tucked it under the table. “Our mission is to capture the target Leona Capulet, destroy any trace she has of the virus and figure out where her funding comes from. Any questions?” All three of them nodded their heads as they looked at Chris. “Great. We’re heading out at nine A.M. tomorrow morning, I expect everyone to be ready with a maximum of two standard issue duffle bags with the essentials needed for the maximum of two weeks.”

“A fortnight?” Leon asked. “I was told only three days.”

“A maximum Leon, just in case. If we all work well enough we can be back here within two days so let's all get some sleep so we can make that happen.” Chris left the three of them at the table. Angel and Daisy just began chatting amongst themselves about what they were going to do once they were back and could enjoy their time together in the countryside, whereas Leon was thinking about you. He pulled out his phone and called your number but to his surprise you didn’t answer, he looked at the time and saw that it was around seven at night so he thought that maybe you were in the shower, at home you usually showered at that time. So rather than calling you again he simply sent you a text message.

‘Done with work for the night so give me a call when you can. Leon <3’

The sun began setting as you felt your stomach growl. You've been walking around for so many hours, you didn't even think about stopping somewhere to eat or drink anything. Thankfully, you weren't somewhere in the woods but rather close to the city. Your phone battery died a while ago, so you didn't have a chance to just google where to go now or call a taxi. "I should have taken the map from Leon earlier." You muttered to yourself as you scratched the back of your head. Instead of giving up though you tried to follow the signs all around the streets. Most of them were in Italian but you still managed to find your way back.

Even though it wasn't that late, or so you assumed since it was not dark yet, there weren't many people outside. You hoped to find a store to get something to eat and drink and maybe ask for the time or your current location but it felt like you were going in circles and as the time passed you felt really tired. Suddenly everything felt like too much and you had to sit down. You almost fell to the ground, feeling the effects of not eating or drinking for a few hours in the heat. Your head was spinning and your vision blurred and you just barely saw a silhouette walking in your direction. You rubbed your eyes in hope of seeing clearly again. A young man stood before you, reaching a hand out. He soon seemed to notice that you didn't understand what he was saying, so he repeated himself in English. "Are you okay? You look really pale and I'm assuming you're not from here, right?" You slowly nodded your head and tried forming words in your mouth.

"Water.. Do you have water?", was all that came out in the end. The man let out a small laugh and nodded. He pointed towards a house just on the opposite side of the street before helping you get up.

"That's where I live. There aren't any stores open around here so that's all I can get offer now. If you feel comfortable with it you can rest a while before continuing your way."

You looked at the man and thanked him as he supported you walking. The two of you slowly walked towards his house and you waited in silence as he opened the door for you. You walked inside the small house and looked around. It was something completely different from the hotel you slept in last night, but it seemed very friendly. The man led you into the living room and you sat down on the old couch. He left the room to get you something to drink and shortly after returned with a coke, a bottle of water and some cold lasagna.

"This was my dinner today. I'm guessing you are hungry, the way you look. Please eat as much as you like." He went over to a cabinet and got a plate, a fork and a knife. He placed it on the small table in front of the couch as you gulped down the coke. You already felt better as the sugar spread through your body.

"Thank you so much. Where I come from most people wouldn't care for strangers, like you're doing right now. I don't know how I can repay you." You said as you put down the can and took a piece of the lasagna. The man put up his hands and shook his head. "Oh please, don't worry about it. This is nothing, I'm just glad to be helping." You smiled at him in return and enjoyed the rest of the lasagna in silence as your body finally regained strength. After you were done you leaned back on the sofa and sighed. "Now that was a really good lasagna. I definitely need the recipe!" You said jokingly and the two of you laughed.

You two talked for a while longer before you noticed the time on a clock hanging on the wall. It was almost 11pm. You opened your eyes in shock and stood up abruptly. "It's so late already?! I'm so sorry, but I think I really need to go. Please, if there is any way to thank you, tell me." The man now also stood up and walked you to the front door. "Like I said before, I don't want anything in return. I'm just grateful to be of help." You smiled at him and went for a hug. It just felt right at that moment. He returned the gesture but you soon parted again. You unlocked your now almost fully loaded phone and checked the route to the hotel.

"Thanks for letting my phone charge as well, I don't think I would ever find my way back without it." You laughed as you stepped outside. By now the moon was shining high in the sky, making the night light up.

"If I'm not mistaken your way back shouldn't be too long. Please text me when you're back so I don't have to worry." The man said as handed you a piece of paper with his number. You smiled as you added him to your contacts.

"Oh, I don't think I've gotten your name, did I?" Now it was his time to laugh. "That's right, I believe. My name's Leonardo." You couldn't believe what you were hearing and let out a laugh. "No way. That's kind of a funny coincidence, my boyfriend is actually called Leon."

"Oh, well.. That really is a funny coincidence." Leonardo scratched his head as you two laughed again.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Leonardo, but I really have to go now. Maybe our paths will cross again." You waved him goodbye as you put in your earphones and followed the route that was presented on your display.

As you followed the instructions you felt like you were being watched. You looked around, not seeing anyone. Shaking your head you began walking faster, the feeling of being watched never vanishing. Just when you thought the feeling of being watched had gone you heard some footsteps behind you. You slowly pulled out your earphones and looked back. Nobody. "Jesus.. What is wrong with me?" You could already see the tall building you left earlier this day and felt relieved. Only a few more minutes and you were safe. From whatever it was that you felt afraid of. Not realizing you started walking faster again you suddenly tripped and fell to the ground, your phone sliding away. "Fuck.." You rubbed your knee and felt blood on your fingertips in return. You stood up with a pain filled groan and slowly went over to your phone. Just before you were able to reach it something hard hit the back of your head, sending you in a realm of darkness...

----

Taglist: @trinswhimsys @dixanadu @oppsie--channie

#resident evil #re2 #re4 #re6 #resident evil vendetta #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

The Problem with Perfection Chapter 10 spoilers!

Hey all! So, a couple people asked for this, so I figured I’d post it. It’s chapter 8 of the companion to TPWP, The Problem with Mondo, which corresponds with chapter 10 of TPWP. Yes, this confuses me a lot too, the fact that the chapters don’t align. -.-

Anyway! Don’t read this if you’ve not read TPWP chapter 10, since it will definitely spoil that chapter, ha. Warning for an overabundance of foul language and some sexualized thinking, as well as an absent thought of suicide, same as in TPWP. This chapter is super long, about 20,000 words, and I’m posting all of it because... why not, am I right? Ha.

I did cut a few sentences from this chapter because they might spoil things for later chapters of TPWP, but they don’t really contain anything major.

The chapter is below the cut! Hope y’all like. :-)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mondo is angry. Blindingly angry. So angry he doesn’t know why he’s angry, but honestly, what else is new? He just knows that he’s angry and the reason he is angry is that goddamn motherfucking kid and his goddamn motherfucking glasses-

 “They! Are!! Glasses!!! Just!!! Wear them!!!” the boy grits out, thrusting his goddamn hand out towards Mondo, looking like he is about five fucking seconds from bashing his head against the goddamn wall. Mondo almost wishes he fucking would, to save him the fucking trouble! Unable to help himself, he scowls and crosses his arms, shaking his head firmly, so fucking pissed it ain’t even funny. 

 “No! I ain’t no fuckin’ nerd!” Mondo yells back, glaring like he was born to do it. Unfortunately, it seems so was Ishimaru, as the kid is glaring like his life depends on it, as fiery and beautiful passionate as ever. That goddamn motherfucking... 

 “Just! Wear them! The doctor says you need them! You don’t have to wear them all the time! Just when you’re reading! Stop! Being an idiot!”

 “Me?! I ain’t no fuckin’ idiot, you’re a fuckin’ idiot! If ya think I’m gonna wear that shit, yer outta yer goddamn mind! Now get that shit outta my face, ya fuckwad, or I’m gonna bash yer head in!” 

 “Like heck you will! You’re all bark and no bite, Owada! Now just! Wear! The! Glasses! You said you were okay with them when you bought them! I will force you to wear them, don’t think I won’t!” 

 “Oh, you motherfuckin’-!”

 “U-uh, g-guys?”

 Mondo and Ishimaru turn, as one, to glare at the intruder on their private fucking conversation. Okay, so maybe they’re in the middle of the hallway outside their dorm rooms, but fuck! That don’t mean shit! Eavesdropping is a nasty fucking habit and if this goddamn motherfucker doesn’t butt the fuck out right the fuck now- 

 “Shut up!” the pair shouts in unison, before turning to glare at each other again. 

 Mondo doesn’t know why he’s so angry. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, or why he has been doing this for the past week and a half. From hot, to cold, to hot, to cold, again and again and again, never fucking ceasing. One minute he’s fine, relaxed as shit and not at all angry, maybe even feeling kinda good, and then the next...

 And he doesn’t know why. Why he’s doing this. Why he’s fucking ruining this shit, like he fucking ruins every fucking thing. He... h-he just... 

 Things had been okay, you know? Between him and Ishimaru. At first. Sure, they weren’t really friends, evidenced by how they are still referring to one another by last name, but they’d been friendly enough. Mondo had taken care to keep his anger in check, and— to his surprise— it... it hadn’t actually been that hard. It seems that Ishimaru can be pretty fucking cool when they’re not at odds. 

 He’s also a great fucking tutor. He somehow manages to not sound sanctimonious and pretentious when explaining shit, instead looking so fucking earnest and like he genuinely wants to just... help. 

 Because of that, they’d gotten along pretty well those first few days. Ishimaru had been determined to get him brought up to speed before they started the fucking novel, so he’d taken care to spend a couple hours a day hanging around Mondo, at various times. The pair usually spent an hour or so in the library after class ended, but more than that, they just... they would walk together between classes, Ishimaru rambling on and on about what they’d just learned about in class. Mondo doesn’t know why he’d allowed it, usually not caring about shit like that, but somehow... somehow, it had been nice. Hearing Ishimaru talk about the shit they’d learned, the kid better able to impart knowledge in the ten fucking minutes they had between classes than the teachers were able to in the hour plus they had. It’s not at all the sorta shit Mondo would have expected himself to enjoy, let alone look forward to, but shit. There they were. 

 But then... Mondo got stupid. He overstepped his bounds and got fucking scared, fuck. 

 They’d been in Ishimaru’s room. Mondo doesn’t know why he’d made the offer to go to the kid’s room rather than the library, like they usually did, like was safe, but he... he had. And the kid had fucking accepted, and so there they were, sitting on the hall monitor’s fucking couch, sitting too fucking close. The kid was reading the short story Teach had assigned to the class, the pair realizing it was just... easier, while Mondo waited for the nurse to contact the eye doctor for him, since it turned out that yeah, his eyes were kinda fucked up, shit. 

 He had felt so fucking weird inside, the first time the kid had read to him, since they’d been in the library and he’d been nervous someone would see them and think Mondo was an idiot who needed to be fucking read to, but... shit. This time it had just been... different. Without the fear of being judged (since Ishimaru never fucking judged him, not ever, god fucking damn), he... he’d been able to listen to the kid reading without any fucking reservations. And he’d had to admit that- that he... he liked it. A lot. Like... fucking a lot. 

 So fucking much that it had made him feel relaxed for the first time... shit. Prolly ever. Ishimaru just had a nice sounding voice, ya know? It was strangely deep, at times, when he got lost in the story, his words not too fast but not too slow. He actually emoted when he spoke, too, the sound not a dull and dry monotone like so many fucking other people he’s heard read before. It just... made him feel so fucking calm inside, like the monster inside of him had been fucking purring. 

 And... and then...

 Mondo had let his head drop down onto Ishimaru’s shoulder, eyes closing in contentment, the kid faltering for one split second, breath hitched, before he’d smoothly continued, like it had never happened. And with his eyes closed and his head resting on a warm, comfortable shoulder, hearing that wonderful cadence from that wonderful, beautiful mouth... he hadn’t been able to stop the thought. And the thought he had was... 

 God, his voice is so fucking nice, isn’t it...? Wonder what it would sound like screaming your name as you pound the fuck outta him. He’d prolly be loud as shit, so fucking passionate, clawing you to all hell, but damn if you’d mind. Shit... wouldn’t that be fucking nice...

 He had been, to put it mildly, freaked the fuck out. 

 His eyes had shot open the second the thought had crossed his mind, heart fucking pounding as he wondered where the goddamn fuck that shit came from. Ishimaru had been startled, looking at him with his wide fucking eyes, lips opened softly in shock, voice faltering for the first time and Mondo... Mondo couldn’t fucking handle it, holy fucking shit. 

 He’d immediately stood and stammered out some bullshit about needing to check on his hog, before fucking bailing, eyes wide and heart an absolute mess. He had, indeed, gone out to his hog and rode around for a bit, not wanting to think, but he’d been unable to help it. To stop it. And it... it made him feel...

 He’s not gay. Okay? He’s fucking not. There’d be no fucking problem if he were, but he just ain’t. He likes chicks, something he knows better than anything else, something he’s known since he was a fucking kid, goddamn. He’d even made sure to look at his porno mags that night, reassured when he felt his dick harden so fucking hard as he saw the tits and pussy that always made him so fucking hard to see. 

 So, he wasn’t gay. He fucking couldn’t be gay, and it’s not possible for him to like both, so he figured that the thought had meant... meant Mondo wanted to fucking pound Ishimaru’s head in, not- n-not any other meaning of the word that it could have meant. He guessed that he didn’t like being around Ishimaru as much as he had assumed and that he actually hated him, after all. 

 As freaked out as he’d been, he took hold of that idea and fucking ran with it. He told himself that he hated the kid, of course he hated him, his voice was fucking annoying as shit, not nice, not nice at all! 

 And so, the next day, he’d been cold to the kid. So fucking cold. And when the kid had tried to approach him after home room ended, looking open and earnest and so fucking cute-

 Mondo hadn’t been able to handle it. His stomach had clenched, and his heart had fucking lurched, and he told himself it was hatred he felt, it had to be fucking hatred. And so, he’d snarled at the kid, telling him to ‘get the fuck away from me, freak!’ before he’d run off, heart aching so fucking stupidly. 

 He had considered skipping class, getting on his hog and fucking booking it, but he needed to give his girl a break, and he still kinda wanted to try the whole ‘giving school a chance’ thing, so he’d eventually decided to storm into class, even if he’d been five minutes late. He’d refused to look at Ishimaru, though, thinking that seeing his stupid fucking pathetic face would fucking destroy him infuriate the shit out of him, and as soon as class ended, he’d shot out, not needing to pack anything up since he’d not fucking brought anything, shit. 

 That had kept happening the rest of the day. Every class they had together (which was pretty much every fucking class, god fucking damn this school) Mondo would carefully keep his eyes off the kid, ignoring the feel of sad, hurt, bright red eyes as they bored into him. After the second class, the kid had tried to chase after him, tried to talk to him, but Mondo would fucking turn and head the opposite fucking direction of their next class, and he knew the kid wouldn’t dare risk being late, so he’d give up pretty quick. He’d constantly be looking in class, though, lips pulled down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Not that Mondo was fucking looking! Shit! 

 It wasn’t until Ishimaru had cornered him outside his dorm room that night, looking so fucking hurt and upset and not a little bit annoyed that they’d managed to resolve things. 

 In that Ishimaru had been so fucking annoying that Mondo had immediately started yelling, causing Ishimaru to yell back, his words bleeding hurt, making Mondo feel like absolute scum. They had been loud enough to garner the attention of most of their classmates, even fucking Togami gracing them with his condescending presence, which had made Mondo even more pissed, honestly, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere fucking else.

 It was when the kid looked about ready to fucking cry that Mondo had had enough. His insides were squirming, and he felt so fucking scared, for reasons he still doesn’t understand, but he... h-he hadn’t wanted to make Ishimaru cry again. After spending several days interacting with Ishimaru, having a lot of fucking conversations that hadn’t actually ended in the kid’s tears, he... he hadn’t wanted to go back to that. 

 And so, with all the confused fucking emotions swirling inside him, he’d yelled ‘fuckin’ fine, ya goddamn bastard! I’ll fuckin’ meet you and do that goddamn fuckin’ assignment tomorrow! Now leave me the fuck alone!’ before storming into his room and slamming the door shut so loud it made even his ears ring. 

 He’d then promptly stormed into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it could go, the water fucking hurting, but he’d wanted it to. He just... he’d felt so... so...

 Confused...

 He’d never felt this way for anyone before. So angry and scared and confused and yet also so fucking happy, so bizarrely, stupidly happy. Ishimaru fucking... he made him happy. And he didn’t know how to handle that, because clearly, he still hated the kid... right? Right? What other option was there? Why did he want to hit Ishimaru (and he had to want to hit him, it was the only fucking option that made any fucking sense) if he didn’t hate him? 

 But he’d agreed— stupidly— to meet with the kid for another fucking tutoring session after class the next day. And while the thought had made his insides squirm, he... fuck. He hadn’t wanted to make the kid cry again. God, did he not want that. Even if he did hate him— which he must, he must— he... fuck. 

 He couldn’t make him cry. 

 He wasn’t his goddamn old man.

 And so, when he got out of the shower, he’d resolved to contain his anger the next day. He’d push it down, keep it locked up tight tight tight, and he wouldn’t let it hurt Ishimaru. He’d gotten into bed (still hated it, but he was slowly getting use to the ridiculously plush material) and fallen into a fitful sleep, dreams full of wide, hurt red eyes, a sad voice begging him to explain why he was hurting him so. He’d woken an hour early with a start, heart pounding, and had spent the remaining time until he usually got up doing push-ups again and again and again, until he didn’t remember the dream anymore. 

 And then, when he went into class, carrying his supplies for once... he’d given the kid a small, sheepish smile, stomach roiling with all the emotions within it. He’d then spent the rest of home room doodling absently on the notebook Ishimaru had helped him pick out from the school store, doing his best to not think of everything and psych himself out. He’d even managed to feel almost calm as he let himself draw, something he rarely allows himself to do, but always has kinda enjoyed, even if he’s shit at it.

 Once home room ended, he’d waited for Ishimaru at the door, telling him as casually as he could that the nurse had contacted him the day before, saying she’d scheduled an eye doctor (he still can’t remember the official name Ishimaru called the dude, shit) appointment for 3:00 the next day, hesitantly asking the kid if he had wanted to come along. He could tell that the kid was taken aback, clearly not having expected such a thing, but he’d still stammered out an acceptance, looking so flustered it wasn’t funny when Mondo turned to look at him with a small, soft smile. He’d not meant to look at the kid like that, but he’d just... been unable to help it. 

 The rest of the day had gone well, the tutoring session going nicely like it had before that stupid fucking bullshit two days prior. It had happened in the library again, which Mondo figured would be safer. He’d almost started to hope that things would stay that way, stay as calm and easy and nice, but then-

 Mondo got angry. Again. 

 He doesn’t even know why, he never fucking does, but the kid had just... he’d been so fucking patient, helping Mondo pick out a pair of ‘reading glasses,’ since the doc had said he had pretty bad close-up vision and would be benefited from having prescription reading glasses, not just the over-the-counter stuff you find at drug stores. Mondo had felt so fucking lost, no idea what any of the bullshit meant, but Ishimaru had... he’d been so fucking helpful, explaining the complicated terminology and shit, helping him find a pair that didn’t make him look too much like a fucking nerd. And the pair he settled on was honestly kinda nice. It was a rectangular silver metal frame that had deep purple plastic on the sides, and it actually make him look kinda cool... if a bit nerdy. He’d given the salesperson his school insurance card and was pleasantly surprised to find he’d not have to pay a penny for the frames, since the school covers shit like that. 

 It was then, as he and Ishimaru exited the shop and the kid absently commented that the glasses made him look very smart that Mondo just... fucking lost it. 

 And he doesn’t even know why.

 It just... it made him feel weird inside. Being around the kid. Being soft with him. And he was. Soft. Soft and kind and fucking gentle. And the kid was the exact same back. The entire time they’d been in the shop, Mondo had been thinking how nice it had felt. How domestic. The panic and fear had been slowly rising in him the entire time they’d been in the store, and he’d done all he could to push it the fuck down, but he... he hadn’t...

 He’d left the kid standing there, looking so fucking confused, as he hopped on his hog and drove away. He’d not cared how the kid would get back to the school, he had refused to ride with Mondo since it made him ‘nervous’ anyway, so it wasn’t his fucking problem.

 And that pattern just... kept repeating. Mondo would get angry, say something toxic to the kid, and storm away. The kid would wait a couple of hours, maybe try and talk with him after class or something, only to eventually corner him and force him to talk to him, looking so fucking fed up, but also so fucking upset and sad and confused. Like he didn’t know why Mondo was doing this to him. Like he didn’t know why Mondo was being so fucking difficult. Like he... he didn’t...

 Didn’t know why he fucking bothered...

 And… honestly? Mondo didn’t know why either. Why he kept trying. Why he was so stubborn, always chasing after Mondo even after Mondo fucking shoved him away, sometimes literally. Even when Mondo would get so fucking nasty, making tears build up in the kid’s eyes, frustration clear in his every movement. 

 For almost two weeks this occurred, again and again and again, and Mondo... Mondo doesn’t know why the kid doesn’t just leave him already. Why he doesn’t just say ‘the hell with it,’ realize Mondo isn’t fucking worth it, and leave his ass. Like every other person on the face of this goddamn planet... 

 It’s only a matter of time until he does, though. Leave him. It’s what always was going to happen, since Mondo couldn’t ever hope to hold onto someone so very, very good. So very, very nice. Mondo is poison. He’s gas. He only knows how to destroy and break and hurt. 

 He’s not allowed something nice. 

 He’s not allowed someone nice. 

 He’s just...

 Not worthy of it. 

 Case in fucking point...

 “Look. Owada-kun,” Ishimaru spits, hands clenched around the stupid glasses case that he for some reason has (Mondo doesn’t even know how he’d gotten a hold of them, shit), looking like he wants to crush them, shit. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this! You picked them out! You said they were fine! Why! Why have you changed your mind!”

 Mondo scowls at the words, heart racing and swirling and hurting, hurting, hurting, and he doesn’t wanna be doing this, wants to stop, but he can’t, he can’t, he fucking can’t! He doesn’t know how to stop this, doesn’t know how to make this go away, all he knows how to do is break and hurt and destroy, destroy, destroy-

 “I ain’t changed shit! I never fuckin’ agreed ta wear fuckin’ glasses, now get the fuck outta my face!” 

 It’s a lie. They both know it’s a lie, he can see the anger rising on Ishimaru’s face as he processes the abject lie. Mondo had, in fact, agreed on the glasses, had even kinda liked them, but he can’t concede that, can’t say he does, if he does then- then that means he’s okay with this, this weird thing he has going on with Ishimaru, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that, handle the proof that Ishimaru is so fucking amazing, the proof that Mondo doesn’t fucking deserve him, proof that... t-that he... 

 Mondo can’t take it. He can’t fucking take it! He tries to leave, to get away, to fucking end this shit already, but then Ishimaru is grabbing hold of him, holding so fucking tight, and Mondo tries to break free, tries to get away, but the kid just doesn’t fucking let go, and Mondo is so fucking freaked out, he just wants to leave, please god, let him just leave, don’t let him break this fucking kid again, god, please- 

 “You-! You are the most infuriating, pig-headed, arrogant... jerk I have ever had the misfortune to meet! If I never saw your face again, it wouldn’t be long enough!”

 “Oh, I’m so wounded, please don’t call me anymore fuckin’ names like that, how the fuck am I ever gonna recover?!” Mondo snarls, sarcasm so thick he’s sure even Ishimaru will be able to pick up on it, wanting to stop but not being able to. “Grow the fuck up, ya cock suckin’ assfucker! Learn some better fuckin’ insults or don’t even bother tryin’ ta play!”

 “Just because I am too sophisticated to resort to such foul language does not mean anything! You may be a lowly, classless heathen, but I, for one, refuse-”

 “Oh, so now ya think yer fuckin’ better than me?! I told ya already, y’ain’t goddamn shit, Ishimaru! Ain’t no shit at all!”

 “I am one hundred times the man you will ever hope to be! And if I’m not... feces, then you’re not even worth anything at all! Y-you’re... you’re an amoeba, so tiny and insignificant that it’s a miracle you think you’re relevant at all!”

 “What the fuck did ya call me, ya son ofa bitch?!”

 Mondo sees the kid open his mouth— likely to fire something back, barely any space between them— holding onto Mondo’s arm so fucking tight, like his life depends on it or something, looking so fucking pissed and angry and hurt and fucking beautiful, so fucking beautiful, god fucking damnit-

 But before the kid can say anything, another voice pipes up, the same voice as earlier, making Mondo’s rage reach a paramount, oh god-

 “Aw, come on! I thought you guys resolved things already, do you really have to do this?! Please!” 

 Mondo turns to the fucking eavesdropper, snarling at the beyond fucking average boy. Naegi turns super fucking pale at the look, but he doesn’t cower away for once. Mondo doesn’t care. He’s far passed the point of caring. 

 “I told ya ta stay the fuck outta this!” 

 Naegi frowns, but Mondo doesn’t give him a chance to say any other stupid ass thing before he’s turning back to Ishimaru, eyes practically spitting fire as he stares so deep into Ishimaru’s that it feels almost like a physical embrace. It makes Mondo’s breath hitch for some stupid fucking reason, his stomach swirling as he looks deep into the most gorgeous fucking eyes he’s ever fucking seen-

 But he can’t feel things like that, so he pushes it firmly away. 

 He can hear their eavesdropper fucking sigh, soft and almost disappointed, and that should make Mondo even angrier, but something in Mondo is feeling so fucking weird now. G-god... he doesn’t even know how to begin to describe it, other than it feels like he’s on fire, but not even in a bad way. Ishimaru is staring at him, eyes wide, anger in them, but also something else, something Mondo can’t understand, no matter how much he fucking wants to. 

 He can’t let this end here. He wants to let it end, but he fucking can’t. He... h-he needs to figure out how to settle this, how to make this stop, how to not be as fucking pathetic as he knows he is. He... he needs to prove that he’s not as worthless as they both know he is, as weak, as nothing, so fucking nothing. Everyone knows it, knows he doesn’t belong here, knows that Ishimaru is so much better than him it’s not funny, but he- he needs to prove that he has something going for him, that he... he can do something, even if he’s worthless in every other regard, every other aspect, even if Ishimaru is better than him everywhere else he just needs to prove he can beat him at fucking something, god-

 He’s issuing the challenge before he can stop himself. 

 And god, is he so fucking afraid. 

 “You think yer so perfect, don’t ya, Ishimaru? Think yer better than me? Well... well, yer not, an’ I can fuckin’ prove it. I bet I can beat you, hands down, any day of the fuckin’ week. Y’ain’t better than me, ya shit fuck. Y’ain’t nothin’,” Mondo hisses, lying through his fucking teeth. Ishimaru is better than him. He knows it. He’s always known it. He hates it, though. Not being good enough. Not being worthy. He... he wants to be. Good enough. For... f-for... 

 Ishimaru’s eyes are shiny again, even despite his glare. 

 Typical. 

 “What?! Y-you guys aren’t going to- to fight, are you? Guys-!”

 Mondo breaks his stare down with Ishimaru to shoot that goddamn fucking bastard a single, solitary sneer, before turning back to Ishimaru, chest heaving with all the emotions he carries within him. 

 “Nah. Ground floor, there’s a sauna. Ya know it?” 

 Ishimaru blinks slowly, sluggish, before nodding slightly, looking very fucking confused. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are pulled down, and he looks so fucking cute stupid, god. After a moment, though, it seems he understands what Mondo is getting at, the challenge he is suggesting, as his face lights up, eyes bright and passionate once more, an honest to god grin on his face. 

 Holy fucking shit... 

 “Aha! A simple endurance challenge! If that is your gauntlet, then I happily accept! I will wipe the floor with you!” 

 Despite the anger that is still flowing through him, Mondo can’t help the small smile that passes on his lips, something about the enthusiasm so fucking... not cute, not cute, not cute at all, but maybe, a little, teeny tiny bit... endearing? He pushes it away, though. It’s not helpful, here. 

 “Yer fuckin’ on. And you,” Mondo points blindly to Naegi— who ‘eeps’ at the gesture, fucking coward he is— not able to look away from Ishimaru for a single fucking second, “will be our witness. Got it?!” 

 As intently as Mondo is staring at Ishimaru, he doesn’t see the other kid’s response, but he can hear how Naegi splutters, the kid clearly not as enthusiastic about the idea as Ishimaru and himself are. Bastard. 

 “W-what?! Now?! B-but it’s so late... g-guys, are you sure this is a- a good idea-?!”

 “Yes, ya fuckin’ moron, it’s a fuckin’ great idea!” Mondo snarls, at the exact same time Ishimaru— eyes bright and feverish— exclaims, “yes! It is an excellent idea!” 

 Uncomfortable at their agreement, Mondo finally tears his eyes away, ignoring the churning feeling in his chest as he storms down the hall to where the bathhouse is, mere meters away. Ishimaru stares after him for a stunned second, but quickly spurs himself into motion, using his long-ish legs to catch up quick, head held high as they march determinedly on. God... he’s so fucking...

 Shit. 

 When they reach the bathhouse a few moments later, Mondo firmly pushes aside the rational voice inside him that is screaming at him not to do this. He knows his limits when it comes to endurance. While he’s not the best at running, he has great endurance for other things, especially pain and discomfort. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~) 

 But Ishimaru... fuck. He’s so fucking passionate, so fucking determined, but who knows what his endurance is like? If he’ll be able to keep up? And it shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t give Mondo pause, but he... he can’t help the stab of concern that fills him as they enter the room, Mondo grabbing a ‘closed for repairs’ sign and putting it in front of the entrance, not wanting anyone to interrupt. 

 He hates the feeling and pushes it away as he turns to glare at Ishimaru, pointing a finger, not wanting to deal with such weakness, but he... he can’t quite manage to force it fully away... 

 Shit. 

 “Alright, here’s the fuckin’ terms. First ta tap out is a fuckin’ bitch ass loser who ain’t worth shit. The one who lasts the longest is the official winner. We ain’t allowed ta touch the other or do anythin’ ta them directly, this is strictly an endurance challenge. Oh, an’ we’re gonna do this fully clothed. What do ya say?!” 

 Mondo sees Ishimaru’s eyes widen when he gets to the last term, the kid fucking shaking his head sharply in denial. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. He’d added that last clause in last minute, realizing as he detailed the rules that they were gonna be fucking half fucking naked in there, and his mind had shorted the fuck out. He’s been in saunas fully clothed before, he knows he can handle it, but he isn’t fucking sure he can handle sitting nearly nude beside Ishi-fucking-maru...

 But of course, the kid wouldn’t fucking agree. Of fucking course...

 “I do not agree to that last term, but I agree to the rest!” 

 Glad his angry flush fully disguises the fucking embarrassed flush he can feel rising on his face, Mondo just nods tensely, sneering, as he storms over to the water cooler in the corner. 

 “Alright, whatever, fucker. Ya got five minutes ta prepare. Then, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this shit.” 

 With that, Mondo grabs a paper cup and downs some water, feeling so impossibly tense. He can feel Ishimaru staring at him, mouth partially open, but he gets spurned into action when Naegi shifts awkwardly beside him, chasing the kid away to one of the lockers, where he... he fucking...

 Starts taking off his fucking clothes...

 Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

 Mondo is staring. Mondo knows he shouldn’t be staring, knows it’s wrong to be staring, but he can’t fucking help it. His eyes are like magnets, drawn to the kid, watching as he takes off all of his fucking layers, folding each one so neatly and carefully as he sticks them in the small fucking locker. The kid hesitates a little when he gets to his fucking tighty-whities (of course the kid wears that shit, of fucking course), but ultimately, he doesn’t take them off. Instead, he bites his lip and grabs a white towel, wrapping it firmly around his waist before putting the rest of his stuff away. Mondo firmly pushes down the stupid as shit rush of disappointment and tells himself to stop staring, to look away, but god, he fucking can’t. Ishimaru, he...

 He’s so fucking gorgeous, so fucking hot, so fucking sexy-

 Mondo feels himself heat the fuck up when Ishimaru turns abruptly and looks him straight in the eyes, looking fucking startled at something. Feeling strangely caught, Mondo looks away as quick as he can, pushing away the stupid as shit thoughts, marching over to a locker stiffly. Shit... he’s gotta fucking get laid one of these days. The tension is doing fucked up shit to his brain... 

 He takes his time putting some of his more fragile shit away, like his crappy cellphone and his key card. He does, honestly, consider taking off his uniform, or at least taking off his duster, but he just... shit. Can’t. Not with how strange he feels inside, his mind’s eye still stupidly forcing him to think of Ishimaru, his stupidly muscular back flexing with every move he made. It means nothing, fucking nothing, but he... shit. It prolly would be better to remain fully clothed, duster included, even if it does put him at a disadvantage. But ya know what, whatever. Doesn’t matter. He knows his limits and knows that he can last longer in the sauna than Ishimaru, even when fully clothed. Shit...

 When the five minutes he gave them are up, he meets up with Ishimaru outside the entrance to the sauna, fully intending to slide it open and step inside, when-

 “Owada-kun, you cannot seriously be considering entering the sauna fully clothed! It’s suicide!” Ishimaru exclaims, sounding fucking concerned as shit. His eyes are wide, and his brows are furrowed, and he’s biting his fucking lip, god fucking damn, and it’s messing with Mondo’s head so fucking much. Why... why the fuck would he care?! Huh?! They’re not fucking friends! Why would he care if Mondo did try and kill himself, huh?! World would fucking be better off for it, shit! 

 Deciding to definitely not say that, Mondo just sneers at the kid, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

 “Just ‘cuz yer a fuckin’ pansy ass bitch don’t mean I am! Now, ya ready ta do this, or are ya a fuckin’ chicken?!”  

 His face flushed, Ishimaru doesn’t even bother to answer, instead just yanking open the door and entering the sauna with a stubborn tilt to his jaw. 

 Staring after the kid for a split second (pushing down the disappointment that he didn’t press the issue harder, proving to Mondo how fucking right he is), Mondo enters on Ishimaru’s heels, the heat not even bothering him one bit. 

 It’s nothing compared to the fire that constantly burns within him. 

 Sliding the door shut behind him, leaving Naegi outside to do whatever the fuck he wants while the contest takes place, Mondo marches over to where Ishimaru is sitting, taking a seat an arm’s length away. He can feel bright red eyes on him, but he determinedly pushes the feeling away, trading a few snide comments with the kid, not even feeling the heat really. 

 About ten minutes in, Mondo will admit the heat is getting to him a little, a thin sheen of sweat making its way onto his skin, which is more uncomfortable than anything. Ishimaru looks a little woozy, so Mondo taunts that the kid should just give up now. Ishimaru just laughs, saying how he never gives up, ever. Fucking pretentious bastard. 

 After half an hour, he can admit he is feeling kinda uncomfortable, the heat becoming somewhat unpleasant, but he’s still feeling pretty good, all things considered. Ishimaru looks flushed as all hell, though, his cheeks bright red and sweat clinging to his muscles. The kid tells him— unprompted— that he’s doing fine, and Mondo’s brain feels too stupid to allow him to do much else than glare, shit... 

 After around fifty minutes, the kid... he looks fucking awful. Mondo isn’t doing too hot, the uncomfortable feeling spreading to be extremely uncomfortable, but he knows he can handle it. The kid, though... he looks like he’s starting to lose it. Ishimaru mentions absently that he’s starting to feel cold, which honestly concerns Mondo, since he knows that shit is a bad sign, but his head is too stupid to remember why, so he just says it’s prolly not good. The kid doesn’t call it quits, though. 

 Instead, he actually... talks... huh. 

 “Y-you can take off your uniform... if you w-want... I- I won’t judge...” the boy mumbles, sounding super fucking exhausted. Mondo tries to snort, but it’s a lot harder than it should be, shit. 

 “N-nah... I’m... I’m... I’m good,” Mondo finds himself muttering back, looking at the kid intensely, wondering why he isn’t giving up when he so clearly feels sick. Mondo finds himself muttering about how red Ishimaru’s is, likening him to a hot spring monkey, of all things. The kid mumbles back about being born with a red face, which makes no fucking sense, but ya know what? He’s too tired to waste energy on this shit. He’s got a challenge to win. 

 After what he figures is an hour and five minutes, the warning bell rings, telling them they have five minutes until curfew. Mondo figures the hall monitor will end this now, since he wouldn’t dare stay out past curfew and risk breaking one of his ‘precious rules,’ but the kid doesn’t seem to even notice the bell had rung. S-shit... that... that’s not good, is it...? 

 Mondo gets distracted from his stupid as shit concern when a new voice pipes up, shocking Mondo. Huh... he hadn’t realized the kid was still out there. Shit. 

 “U-uh guys? It’s almost curfew, shouldn’t you... stop? I know you both want to prove how big of badasses you are but... don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

 Mondo scowls at the meaning of the words, knowing that he sure as shit ain’t gonna back down first. He’s already so worthless. He’s gotta prove that he can at least do this, of all fucking things.

 “Shut up!” he barks, at the same time Ishimaru does, making him feel fucking wigged out at how they’re both on the same page again. 

 Naegi replies back to them, saying something about it being nighttime, and a tie... it honestly offends Mondo, but before he can reply, the kid is... talking... saying something about how in a true competition, there are no ties. That you either win or you lose, and that... that’s the only thing that matters. It honestly kinda pisses Mondo off, even if he agrees fully, so he fires back how he will push the kid right up to the gates of hell, meaning it fully. 

 He tells Naegi to leave then, knowing that this might drag on a lot longer than he had anticipated. Shit. He knew Ishimaru was fucking stubborn as shit, willing to do absolutely anything to reach his goals, but this... this is just madness. Utter madness. As Naegi leaves, Mondo cannot help how he stares at the hall monitor, who looks so fucking sick right now. He does his best to ignore it, to wait the kid out, but when roughly fifteen more minutes pass and the kid isn’t tapping out, despite looking half dead, he... he can’t help the worry that he feels. And then, when the kid closes his eyes, barely breathing, Mondo... s-shit... 

 “Hey... man... are you... are you okay...? Ya don’t... don’t look so good...” 

 Mondo listens, getting really kinda freaked, when Ishimaru lets out a soft puff of air, almost like he’s trying to laugh but can’t find the energy. He lolls his head over to Mondo, the first movement he’s done in minutes, but his eyes are still closed, which looks so fucking freaky. It takes him far longer than it should to open his eyes, and when he does, they... shit. They look glazed, like the kid isn’t fucking in there, like he... he’s...

 Already dead...

 F-fuck... 

 It really does look like that, though. Eyes glazed, mouth partially open, chest so scarily still... o-oh, shit. Shit, what if he... what if he is dead...?! Y-yeah, he just moved, but he- he looks so still, it... Mondo... 

 But then the kid is speaking, and he sounds so very out of it, but at least he’s alive, thank god... 

 “I- I’m... I’m fine, I...” 

 Oh, shit... no, he... he’s not fine, is he...? Shit... s-shit...

 “Shit... man... no, y’ain’t. I know my... my limits. I’ve got some time... left in me... but you... shit. Just give up, dude. Just... just give... up...” 

 It makes something in Mondo clench when he sees the kid’s face screw up, like he wants to cry but just has no tears left within him. And then he... he’s speaking... 

 “No... n-no, I can’t... I- I can’t... give up... I have to... have to...”

 The kid stops, then, and Mondo feels so fucking confused, his head all stupid because of the heat, making it hard to think. What? He has to... what? 

 “Hafta... what? What... is so important... ta ya?”

 The kid blinks, like he hadn’t expected to be spoken to, before opening his mouth and muttering words. It... it’s like the kid doesn’t even know he’s speaking, the words sounding so fucking slurred and soft. Mondo has to strain to hear them, even though the silence is oppressive between them. 

 “I can’t... give up... must... restore... honor... family... f-family name...” 

 Mondo furrows his eyebrows, his lips turned down in a frown, not... not understanding...

 “Yer family... name? What… what about it?” 

 Ishimaru blinks, like he can barely understand what Mondo is saying, and fuck is that scary... 

 “I must... fix his mistakes. I must... I must bring honor t-to... to our name... my grandfather...”

 Okay, that... that doesn’t make any fucking sense... his grandfather? The fuck? Shit... Ishimaru needs to stop this, he... he’s not making any sense...

 “What? The fuck... the fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout, man? Shit... Ishimaru, yer ‘bout ta... ta fuckin’ pass out... why can’t ya just... just give up, man?” 

 Ishimaru isn’t looking at him anymore and is instead staring blankly at the steam that is billowing around them, looking like he’s not aware where the fuck he is. It makes Mondo’s stomach clench, the concern rising. He... he doesn’t wanna give up, needs to prove himself, but he... Ishimaru... f-fuck... 

 And then... Ishimaru starts talking again...

 “It... it’s all up to me to fix it... t-to make it better... m-make it- it right-! I... I can’t... give up, I... I’m not... not allowed to... give up... giving up is- is wrong... and immoral, and- and I am not wrong! I... I’m not- not immoral... I... I’m better... better than my grandfather... better than myself... better... than...” 

 Okay. Okay. Okay, it’s official. Mondo is fucking freaked the fuck out. What... what does any of that even mean? He... Ishimaru...

 “Fuck, dude, yer- yer scarin’ me... what the hell does… does any a’ that even… even mean? Yer the fuckin’... Ultimate Moral Compass... ‘course yer not- not... immoral...” 

 Ishimaru is shaking now, eyes still glazed, staring at the steam as if it holds the answer to life itself. And fuck... it’s so fucking creepy... 

 “But I am, I am... I’m worthless, I’m nothing... my grandfather... he’d done so many terrible things, had hurt s-so many people... he’d ruined... ruined Japan... e-everyone hated him... hated me... I have to do better... to be better... to fix... my grandfather’s... mistakes...”

 His grandfather? Who the fuck is his grandfather? And why... why does he even matter? Even if he was so fucking terrible, Ishimaru... he ain’t... he...

 “Dude... y’ain’t... ain’t yer grandfather... yer yer own person... an’ frankly... I kinda... kinda like... s-shit. Just... stop this, man. Just admit it. Admit it’s... too much...” 

 The kid shakes his head, and Mondo doesn’t know how he’s able to even hear him, as far fucking gone as he looks, but fuck, he’s clearly responding, ain’t he...? 

 “Nnnn- n-no! I- I... I can’t... can’t admit... weakness... god I’m so... so weak... pathetic... the children, they’re right about me, they’re all so... so right... I’ll never... amount to- to anything... I’m worthless... pathetic... scum...” 

 H-holy shit... Ishimaru he... he can’t fucking believe that... can he? No... n-no, he... he ain’t none of that shit, Mondo is, Mondo is, but not- not Ishimaru! He... he’s fucking... he... 

 “Ishimaru... Ishimaru, stop... s-stop! Y’ain’t... none a’ that is... is true... yer the best... goddamn person I ever... ever met, ya... ya never gave up on me... no matter how horrible I treated ya... ya just... wouldn’t leave... I tried ta make ya leave, why... why wouldn’t ya leave...” 

 He hadn’t meant to ask the question, voice so fucking soft, but he couldn’t help it. It’s been plaguing him for weeks now, wondering why... why Ishimaru bothered staying... why he didn’t just leave his ass... why he didn’t just... give up on him... like everyone always does... 

 “Me... leave? Why? Where would I... go...? I’ve n-never... had a friend... if this is... is friendship... then what else can I... do? I don’t... w-wanna... be...... alone.........”

 Oh... oh, shit... suddenly, so many things make so much fucking sense. Why the kid always seems so fucking nervous and awkward around people, though he tries his damndest to hide it. Why he is always alone, never seen really talking to anyone, not without a reason. Why he always... always does his best to extend olive branches to people, offering to tutor or help or do whatever is needed to... to get them to talk to him... g-god... he never would have thought the kid would have no friends, even though it’s so fucking obvious when Mondo thinks about it. He’s just... he’s just so fucking bright and full of sunshine... Mondo can’t imagine people seeing that and not... not wanting to... 

 It’s right then, in that moment, brain stupid from heat, halfway gone but not fully gone yet, that Mondo... Mondo makes a decision. 

 If they survive this stupid fucking challenge... he... he will be Ishimaru— no, Kiyotaka, his name is- is Kiyotaka... he will be Kiyotaka’s friend... and he will be a fucking good one, the friend that the kid... that he fucking deserves...

 If the kid even wants to be friends with him... 

 “Fuckin’... shit, man. Yer not... alone... I’m here. Ishimaru... Kiyotaka... I’m right... right here...” 

 The kid shakes his head, breath still shallow, but now it’s wavering, shaking... trembling... g-god... fuck...

 “No... no... I’m alone, I’m alone. Everyone... always leaves... my mother... my grandfather... even my father would leave... if he could... he’s never... never understood me. No one... understands me... I don’t... even... understand...... myself..........”

 Oh. Oh. Oh. This... this poor fucking boy... he... s-shit. Shit... this... they gotta fucking stop this... they... 

 “I... I understand ya. Yer... yer like me... ain’t ya? Shit. We gotta... gotta stop this, man... what are ya... tryin’... ta prove?” 

 Kiyotaka is shaking again, looking like he wants to cry but just... can’t. God... god... fucking... god.

 “Everything. Everything. Every… everything… I have to prove them... wrong. I have to prove... that I can do this. If I... if I give up... i-if I let myself give up... then I fail. I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail. I c-can’t... fail, I can’t... g-give up... or else... what is... the point... of me...?” 

 Point? The point? Why... why does he have to have a point? Shit... he’s so fucking amazing, he... he doesn’t have to have a point... no more than just... just being... 

 “Ain’t gotta... have a point man... ya can just... be. Be... Kiyotaka. What’s so wrong... with that?” 

 The blank look on the kid’s face grows, his voice soft, weak. Trembling, like he doesn’t mean to say it, like he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Mondo has never heard someone sound so... so... dead before... h-holy shit...

 “Everything. Everything. Everything. E-everything... is wrong with... me... I- I’m too... too much. T-too passionate... too vibrant... I- I hurt... hurt my own eyes... I hate... l-looking at myself... hate... b-being myself... if I could... be someone else... I- I would... gladly...” 

 No. No. No, fucking... no! Ish- Kiyo... Kiyotaka can’t fucking believe that... yeah, he’s so fucking passionate, so fucking bright, but that... that’s not a bad thing... he... he’s so fucking good... so fucking... amazing... and he... Mondo wouldn’t...

 “I wouldn’t. Want that. Yer... fuck. Yer somethin’... somethin’ special... I thought I... I hated that ‘bout you, but... man you... you shine... I don’t deserve... someone as... as wonderful... as you...”

 Kiyotaka is shaking his head again, barely breathing, looking so dead, so very, very... dead...

 Oh, god...

 “I- I’m not... wonderful. I’m not... anything. T-the children... they hated me... t-they all... hated me. My f-father... hates me. My mother... if she could s-see me... now... s-she’d hate me... too. Why... w-why do I bother... trying...? W-why... why don’t I just... g-give up...” 

 N-no... no, no, god, please... no... Mondo feels pressure behind his eyes, and he doesn’t think he has ever felt such pain. Because that... that sounds so goddamn familiar... he always has seen Kiyotaka as so different to him, so much better, so much brighter. But if the kid is to be believed... he... he thinks of himself like... like Mondo thinks of himself, and he... he can’t... can’t fucking stand that thought, oh god... 

 “Kiyo... Kiyota- Taka. Kiyo... Taka. Just... ya don’t hafta... give up... but yer... yer gonna kill yerself if ya... keep this up... s-shit...”

 Mondo feels himself go cold when Kiyotaka responds, sounding half dead, looking so... so nothing... 

 “Kill... myself? No... I’m not- not that weak... not anymore... not... n-not again... but maybe... maybe... m-maybe it would be better. If I weren’t... weren’t...” a pause. “Alive...”

 What?! No... no, no.... nonononononononononono-!!! He... he can’t... he can’t-

 “What?! Dude... no... god... fuckin’... dammit! Ya can’t be... serious... Kiyo... Taka, ya can’t...”

 “I am. I am. I- I am. If I wasn’t... so weak. If I wasn’t... s-so afraid. I know... k-know how to fix it... a-all of it. How to... t-to make it better. My father... would be happier. The children... w-would be happier. And I... I... I’d be... I’d be...”

 A pause. Inhalation of breath. And then... softly, so fucking softly...

 “Dead...” 

 No. No. No, fucking-! No. This... this is so fucking stupid, why is Mondo doing this, he... he has to stop this. This kid ain’t gonna stop, he can’t fucking stop, he won’t stop until he is fucking dead, and Mondo... Mondo can’t... he fucking can’t-

 He can’t lose someone else... not during another fucking challenge that he fucking issued... he just... can’t.

 “Okay. That’s it. This ain’t... fuckin’ worth it. If y’ain’t... gonna quit... then I! I fuckin’... I fuckin’ will. Ya... ya win... Kiyo... Taka... ya... ya win. Now, c’mon, man. Let’s… let’s get outta here.”

 With all the strength he has left, Mondo stands and hobbles over to where Kiyotaka is sitting, looking like a puppet with its strings cut. He’s not moving, barely breathing, and his eyes are so glazed over Mondo doesn’t think he can even see right now. Mondo has never seen someone look so still before, and it scares the ever-loving shit out of him. Especially now that he... he knows that... that the kid has tried... or at least wanted...

 Fuck. 

 Fuck. 

 Fuck.

 But he doesn’t have time to hate himself for issuing this stupid ass challenge. He doesn’t have time to waste. Gathering all his strength, he bends down, and he wraps an arm around Kiyotaka, heart stopping when he feels how boneless he is, not moving at all. But then, as he starts moving towards the door, he feels the kid start to struggle. It’s weak and doesn’t sway Mondo even a second, but fuck does it relieve him. The kid is even able to walk a little, barely. It... it’s good. 

 The second he manages to get the door open, however, the cool air almost torture on his overheated skin, he feels Kiyotaka gasp, all the fragile strength he had gone as his knees buckle, making him deadweight. But Mondo hasn’t spent the majority of his life lifting weights for nothing, so he just adjusts his grip, taking on more of the kid’s weight. He doesn’t lift him, doesn’t have time for that, but he drags him bodily over to the bench, accidentally throwing him on it since he’s not really at a hundred percent himself. He sees the kid start to topple, then, and he immediately moves forward to steady the kid, the skin under his hands far, far too warm. Oh... shit, that’s not... not good, oh fuck...

 “Goddamn shit. Ya look... fuck man. Why didn’t ya just... dammit. Ya need water... I’ll be right back.”

 Mondo stand abruptly then, feeling clumsy and wrong. His chest feels so fucking painful, like it’s being sat on by an elephant, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more concerned for anyone. Well... other than one person... but shit, he can’t think of him, not now. Not now. Not when Kiyotaka needs him. He takes off his duster as he strides forward, tossing it carelessly on a bench, too fucking hot to deal with that shit. He needs to go quick, needs to... to get back to Kiyotaka... and he needs to drink some water himself, fuck, he’s so fucking dehydrated... fuck. 

 However... once he’s at the water cooler, filling up one of the paper cups for himself to drink, he hears the kid muttering again, the words making no goddamn sense, but damn if it doesn’t make his heart clench...

 “...they won’t, they won’t, they won’t... I’m alone, again... all alone... everyone has left... everyone leaves me in the end... why would I expect anything different... why would I expect-“

 Shit. Shit. Shit. Mondo quickly finishes filling the cup and downs it, filling the second one as quickly as possible while the kid rambles on about being alone again. As soon as the cup is full Mondo practically teleports back to the kid’s side, an odd sense in him that he never, ever wants to be anywhere else... 

 “Shit, Kiyotaka, I’m here. I just... had ta drink myself, shit. Now c’mon. Drink this. Please, man. Fer me. I can’t... ya can’t fuckin’ die on me, man... f-fuck...” 

 He carefully places his hand on the back of Kiyotaka’s neck, lifting it gently up, so he can get the kid to drink some water. He knows that the boy is prolly dehydrated as fuck, and he seriously hopes that’s the only thing wrong with him, because if it isn’t... s-shit. He can feel Kiyotaka struggle as he moves him, his lips moving, muttering those fucking words again... 

 “W-why am I so weak, I need to... to be stronger... to be... better...”

 God, is everything this kid says gonna make his heart break? God... he’s not equipped for this, he doesn’t know how to be kind, to be gentle, but after all the shit he has done, all the pain and misery he has needlessly made this wondrous, incredible, sad fucking boy go through... he owes it to him to not only try, but to succeed. 

 Even if it fucking kills him... 

 “Shh... hey, it’s okay. Y’ain’t fuckin’ weak, man, yer goddamn incredible. Now c’mon. Stop fightin’ me. Let me take care a’ you. You... you’ve been so strong fer so long. Let me... let me help you...” 

 With that, he slowly presses the cup against the kid’s lips, and he feels as he struggles, whimpering softly, scared. Shit, he... he prolly has no idea what the fuck is going on, is so fucking disoriented... 

 He begins whispering to the kid then, not knowing what to say, but just... knowing he has to say something, something soothing. He hums softly as he decides to just... let the soft words that he’s been gathering for weeks now out of his heart, telling Kiyotaka that he is there, that he will always be there, promising that he’s not alone, that he’ll never be alone again, that Mondo will take care of him, he promises... he promises... 

 And then he... he says...

 “Open up, Kiyotaka, shit. P-please... I’m beggin’ ya man... just... drink some water...” 

 The kid... Kiyotaka stops struggling then, and finally, finally opens his lips. It’s just a little, a small amount, but it’s enough for a small trickle of water to get passed his dry and cracked lips, which is so fucking relieving. But then... then the kid startles again, a soft sound of distress getting released as he panics, taking too much water too quick. Oh, shit... 

 So fucking scared, not knowing what to do but knowing he has to do something, Mondo lowers the hand holding the cup but doesn’t put it down, moving his other hand to rub soothing circles on the kid’s back, shushing him softly. 

 “Aw, shit. Slowly, man, slowly. That’s it, nice an’ easy... I’m gonna try that again, okay? Go slow this time. Idiot.”

 With that, Mondo moves his hand back to Kiyotaka’s neck and brings the cup back up to his lips, praying that he will drink this time. He’s so fucking dehydrated and if he won’t drink, Mondo is gonna have to call an ambulance or some shit, because he needs liquid, and fast. 

 Luckily, this time when he asks the kid to open up, he does so immediately. And then, when he tips a little of the liquid into his mouth, the kid doesn’t panic and just... sips it. Slowly. Mondo can see his throat working, moving slowly, swallowing the water, and fuck... he’s never felt so relieved in his life, watching the kid drink some fucking water, god... 

 However, then the kid is letting out a sound of desperation, seeming to realize that he is so fucking thirsty or something. He sees the kid’s hands try to come up, wavering so fucking much as they try and force the water down faster, but Mondo stops him, knowing he needs to go slow. 

 “Aw, shit man, stop! Ya gotta go slow. Yer dehydrated, ya can’t drink it too fast... trust me, man. I got you. I won’t let you down. Not again. I… I promise.”

 And he means it. He fucking means it. He has failed this kid so many fucking times, but he won’t this time, and he never will again. Because now he... he knows that this kid fucking matters. He’s always known that, from the minute the kid had run into him and knocked his world on its side, but- but he... he’s always been so afraid of it. Of the feeling. Of what it means. 

 But he’s not afraid of it. Not now. Not... not anymore. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, why this boy matters so fucking much to him, but it just doesn’t matter now, and he refuses to let his goddamn fucking nonsense ruin this shit anymore. This kid has faced some truly horrible fucking things, things that Mondo has barely scratched the surface of but can tell have damaged the kid so fucking much. He has scars all over his chest and back, which Mondo has noticed before, of course he’s noticed them, but now he’s really starting to realize what exactly they mean, and it just... it’s fucking him up inside, and all he wants is to bundle this kid up and never let him get hurt again, keep him safe from all harm, and Mondo has always felt like that, always wanted that, but now, for once...

 He’s not afraid of it. 

 And he won’t back down. 

 Not unless Kiyotaka wants him to...

 (But even then. Even then, Mondo will do everything he can to keep him safe. He won’t stalk the kid, but he will make sure that no one dares to lay a finger on him. He’s firmly under Mondo’s protection now. Nothing will change that. Absolutely nothing.) 

 Knowing that Kiyotaka needs to drink more, so he’s not so weak (physically. He’s so fucking strong emotionally, so fucking strong) anymore, he presses the cup back to the boy’s lips, his heart lurching softly when the kid immediately opens up and drinks, slowly, not even needing Mondo to remind him to go slow and steady. Mondo is so fucking proud of the kid, like a fucking mother hen, but he doesn’t care. This kid deserves all the softness in the world. If there’s one thing Mondo is sure of, it’s that. 

 It doesn’t take long for the cup to run empty, but the kid needs more, so Mondo gets up to refill the cup. But then he’s fucking crying, sad and pitiful, and Mondo immediately returns, holding him close, saying to him, “aw, shit, I’m just getting more water, alright? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

 And when Mondo is forced to leave again— though god does he not want to— he keeps talking. Promising that he’ll be right back, that he’s not leaving, that he will never leave again... promises that he will never break, and not just because he doesn’t break promises, but because he fucking means the shit out of them. More than any promise he’s ever made before. 

 He’s back soon after, bringing two cups with him this time, helping Kiyotaka drink, and drink, and drink. Mondo doesn’t know much about severe dehydration, just knows that it’s important for the person to be given fluids, preferably sports drinks, but since he doesn’t have that shit, water will have to do. If Kiyotaka doesn’t get better after the third cup, Mondo’s gonna try and see if he can take him to the nurse if the lady is still there. If not... shit. He’ll prolly have to call an ambulance, since he doesn’t think Kiyotaka could handle riding on his hog to the hospital, which is at least a ten-minute ride away. He’s hoping he won’t have to do that, though. Hopes that drinking the water will be enough to help him. He also hopes that it’s just dehydration that’s the problem... fuck. 

 The good thing is that Kiyotaka is drinking willingly. And the more he drinks, the more lucid he appears. He still seems very out of it, but about halfway through the third cup, he starts blinking rapidly, like waking himself from a dream. His eyebrows furrow, and he starts looking around a bit. He takes in the bathhouse and even looks down at his chest, like he’s just then noticing that he’s half naked. Mondo allows him to do this, but always makes sure the kid is still drinking, wanting to make sure he gets at least three cups in, since he had to have lost a lot of water while sweating. Mondo himself isn’t feeling too hot and knows he needs to drink more, too, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t ensure that Kiyotaka is okay before doing anything else for himself. 

 Mondo knows the exact second that things slot into place for the kid, since one second he’s loose and pliant in his arms, allowing him to hold his neck and give him the water, and the next he’s sitting ramrod straight, eyes wide. It startles Mondo a bit and he straightens up from the hunch he’d found himself in, so fucking relieved to see some lucidity in those bright red eyes. Fuck, but was that glazed look terrifying... 

 “Oh, shit. Are ya back? Ya really fuckin’ scared me there, dude, the fuck...? I was ‘bout ta take yer ass ta the nurse, consequences be damned. Shit, should I still do that...? Kiyotaka?” 

 The kid is just staring at him, his skin far too pale, his eyes moving back and forth over Mondo’s face as he seems to try to be figuring something out. They then widen somehow further and then-

 “Aw, shit! Fuck, man, what the hell!”

 Mondo stares wide eyed at the kid as he abruptly stands, his body shaking horribly, looking like he just saw a ghost, shit... Mondo is afraid the kid is about to collapse so he stands quickly, hands hovering to ensure he doesn’t fall, but the kid doesn’t seem to notice him. Oh... shit... he’s not better, is he? God fucking dammit...

 “W-w-w-what... w-what... h-h-happened?! I... I didn’t... oh god...” 

 Mondo sees Kiyotaka sway then, looking like he’s about to faint, scaring the absolute shit out of Mondo. Rushing forward, he grabs the kid by his shoulders, holding him upright. Part of him wants to pull him close, to wrap him up and never let him go, but he can tell the kid is super fucking freaked out, and he doesn’t want to make him panic, shit. 

 “What the fuck... aw, shit, y’ain’t better. Okay, that’s it. I’m takin’ ya ta the fuckin’ nurse. Goddamnit...” 

 Mondo tries to move Kiyotaka, then, carefully guiding him over to the door so they can make the stupidly long walk to the nurse’s office, mind racing a mile a minute as he tries to determine if it wouldn’t just be better to call the ambulance now. On one hand, he doubts the nurse is still there, since it’s well after curfew, but on the other... calling for an ambulance means he might have to explain this shit, and he just... shit. But he needs to do right by Kiyotaka, and if that includes getting himself in trouble, he’ll fucking do it. He doesn’t care what happens to him, just as long as this wonderful, incredible boy is safe. Huh...

 As distracted as Mondo is, he doesn’t expect any resistance to his movement, expecting Kiyotaka to be as pliant as he previously had been. As such, when the kid fucking pulls away from him, weak as it is, Mondo isn’t expecting it and thus is unable to keep his grip. And he watches, heart stopping, as the kid slams into the row of lockers, collapsing immediately to the ground with a soft noise of pain. 

 Shit!!!

 “Shit! Kiyotaka, are you fuckin’ alright?! What the hell, man?! Stop bein’ an idiot and let me take ya ta the nurse, fuck!” 

 He doesn’t mean to sound angry or anything, he’s just so fucking scared, needing the kid to cooperate so he can just get better already and not make Mondo worry he’s gonna fucking die or something... but given the way that Kiyotaka glares at him (or tries to glare, Mondo can tell he’s still a little out of it and can’t quite put the usual amount of passion into it), he can tell the kid intends to be difficult, looking at him like he doesn’t want Mondo to come any closer or something. Mondo immediately says, ‘fuck that,’ though, and rushes to the kid’s side, kneeling down, his eyes bleeding with his concern. He watches the kid blink, some more lucidity rising within the red, as he opens his mouth to speak. 

 “W-wait! I don’t... dang it. I don’t need to go to the- t-the nurse! I’m just... confused. Give me... give me a moment to... collect myself!” Kiyotaka says, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking. Mondo looks at him firmly, ensuring the kid means it and that he’s not just saying random, nonsense bullshit again. 

 Once he’s satisfied that the kid is, in fact, lucid enough to make that decision, he nods stiffly, still feeling so very, very concerned. 

 “Alright... shit, fine. If ya say so. But ya gotta drink some more water, alright?! Slowly. I should drink more too, fuck...”

 Mondo stands, then, and walks over to the water cooler again, hands tingling unpleasantly as he leaves Kiyotaka’s side. He quickly fills up two fresh cups of water and hurries back, handing the kid one of the cups as soon as he is by his side. 

 As soon as the kid takes it, Mondo flops down to sit beside him, so close they touch, and begins to drink his water, finding comfort in being able to feel the kid warm against his side. He is honestly thirsty as fuck, wanting to gulp it down again, but he forces himself to go slow, not wanting to be a hypocrite. He notices after a second that Kiyotaka isn’t drinking and is just staring at him blankly, eyes glazing over again, which scares him more than he is willing to say, fuck. 

 “Dude. Drink. Or I’m draggin’ ya ta the nurse, kickin’ an’ screamin’. Don’t think I won’t,” Mondo rumbles, startling the kid out of whatever fugue he’d entered into. The kid glares at him lightly, not nearly as strong as Mondo knows it could be, but at least he doesn’t try and counter him. He just brings the cup to his lips and drinks the cool water slowly, his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks hard about something. They don’t glaze over again, though, so Mondo lets him be and just drinks his water, every cell in his body so fucking aware of the kid sitting directly beside him. It honestly would scare him, how much he cares about this kid, if he’d not already decided to not care about that shit anymore. He cares about the kid. He doesn’t know why, he just does. End of fucking story. 

 Mondo doesn’t know how long they sit there drinking their water, and he doesn’t really care. He usually hates sitting still for so long, his skin crawling to get up and do something already, but strangely... he doesn’t really mind it too much. Sitting here, beside Kiyotaka. It... despite the worry he still feels, there’s also a strange calmness inside him now. Like... like something inside him that had been out of place and broken for years is just... gone, allowing him to breathe easy for the first time. It’s so strange but also... so very, very nice...

 Eventually their cups run empty, and Mondo is about to offer to get them both some more water again when the kid speaks. His voice is low and shaky, but it sounds a lot better and more lucid than it had before, which relieves the shit out of him. But then he comprehends the words, and he...

 “O-Owada... back in... in the, uh, sauna... I didn’t, um. Say anything strange. Did I?” Kiyotaka asks softly, looking very nervous. It concerns Mondo a lot that the kid apparently doesn’t remember what happened in the sauna, but he supposes it makes sense. He had been super fucking outta it... 

 He still takes his time to think about it. He usually just blurts out his words, no thought put into them at all, but this... shit. This matters. And he has to be so fucking careful if he doesn’t want to hurt the kid again. And god, does he not wanna do that... 

 Finally, he figures he’ll go the safe route and figure out what, exactly, the kid does and doesn’t remember. If he remembers nothing, then maybe... maybe it would be better to keep it that way, shit... 

 Ignoring the way his heart clenches at the thought, he sets his face into a carefully neutral expression, revealing nothing as he speaks, voice a low rumble. 

 “That depends. What do ya remember?”

 Mondo watches, heart clenched strangely again, as Kiyotaka bites his lip gently, eyes unfocused as he thinks. They’re not glazed, though, so Mondo thinks he’s just concentrating, not zoning out. After a few moments, the kid glances up at him, expression open and searching. It makes Mondo want to gasp, everything in him swirling, and when the kid speaks, still looking at him, he... h-he... 

 “I’m… I’m not sure. It’s all... fuzzy. I can’t quite tell... what is real or not. I have no idea what I said during that last part, though... just fragments of old memories and thoughts.” Kiyotaka pauses, his hands shaking lightly. He looks away then, down at the ground, and Mondo feels so strangely bereaved... “But I... I remember you... you said... things. About- a-about me. Y-you... you called me... wonderful. Special. H-heh! H-how r-ridiculous! I must... must have been- been hallucinating! Aha!” 

 The kid sounds nervous, frantic, like he’s afraid Mondo will hurt him, like he’s afraid Mondo will laugh at him, will tell him that he... he’s wrong, that Mondo hadn’t said that, that he... he doesn’t believe that...

 Which is bullshit. Because he did say that. And he’d meant it. Means it. Fully and completely. 

 Mondo consciously forces his shoulders to lose the tension that had entered them unbidden at Kiyotaka’s frantic words, sighing softly, a wry smile rising on his lips as he looks at the kid. The kid looks so fucking scared, so desperate, like he doesn’t believe that Mondo had said that shit, but that he wants to believe it. 

 And, shit... even if he hadn’t said it, he sure as shit would say it now. Because Kiyotaka truly is wonderful and special, ain’t he...? 

 Heh... 

 “Nah. That, uh. That happened. You really don’t remember what you said?” he asks as casually as he can, his head tilted in question, hoping he’s hiding the way his heart is racing well enough, but honestly not really caring if he’s not. He... he doesn’t want to keep shit from this kid. Not... not anymore... he watches as Kiyotaka shakes his head weakly, moving his eyes to stare at his hands again. It makes Mondo’s smile widen, eyes soft as silk. Heh. So... so fucking cute...

 “Heh. Makes sense. Ya weren’t exactly all there, ya know. Kept mumblin’ bits a’ nonsense. Could barely make sense a’ ya myself, tell the truth. Somethin’... somethin’ ‘bout yer grandfather. ‘Bout needin’ ta right his wrongs. An’ then there was somethin’ ‘bout other kids? An’ hatred? Ya mentioned how yer da don’t understand ya, how he hates ya, or somethin’. An’ ‘bout how... how ya... ya hate yerself. Which I think is fuckin’ bullshit, ya shouldn’t fuckin’ hate yerself, yer incredible, but whatever. There was a lot a’ other stuff too. ‘Bout not givin’ up, ‘bout havin’ ta prove people wrong. Some other shit, too, but I don’t really ‘member it all, sorry. But... shit man. Is that... is that real? Did ya... did ya really mean alla’ that?” 

 Mondo doesn’t really mean to ask the question, knowing the kid needs to be allowed to rest and relax, not be asked stupid fucking questions, but he can’t help it. He’s not lying when he says he doesn’t quite remember everything. It’s all starting to blur in his head, and while he’s fairly certain he remembers the most of it, some details are starting to slip away, and he just... did the kid really say all that shit, or had he imagined it, too? Shit...

 But then... then, after a moment, Kiyotaka, he... h-he...

 “Aw, shit,” he mutters under his breath, which seems to just make the kid cry harder. It breaks Mondo’s heart so much, hating seeing his tears. God... this kid just always fucking cries around him, doesn’t he...? Shit... shit! H-he didn’t want to make the kid cry! G-god, he... he wants so badly to hold the kid, to keep him safe from the sorrow within him, but would the kid even want that? After everything he’s done, all he’s taken from him, would he actually want to be held in his arms? It’s his fault he’s crying, his fault he’s in this situation, and he doesn’t know if Kiyotaka would want to be anywhere near him, let alone in his arms! But he... he wants so, so badly to... t-to...

 “Please, man, don’t cry, shit, I’m sorry! I... aw, fuck it. Come here.” 

 Mind made up, Mondo darts forward and— carefully as he possibly can— wraps an arm around the kid, pulling him gently to his chest, firm and tight. He can feel the kid struggle against him, and it kills him inside to feel it, especially when the kid starts frantically apologizing, like he thinks Mondo is going to hurt him or something. He thinks it might be best to let him go, to apologize and never touch him again, but he... h-he thinks the problem isn’t that Mondo is hugging him, but that the kid thinks Mondo is upset. So maybe... if he can reassure the kid that it’s okay, that he wants this, maybe... m-maybe he’ll stop struggling so hard... and maybe... m-maybe...

 “Shhh. Shh, c’mon. It’s okay, Kiyotaka. I’m here. Y’ain’t alone. I got you. Ain’t got nothin’ ta ‘pologize fer, ya got it? Yer okay. We’re both okay.” 

 He keeps his arms steady on Kiyotaka, praying to any god that will listen that he’s doing the right thing, that he’s not hurting the kid more, that this is okay, and then... after a minute... after a minute...

 The kid stops. Stops struggling, stops apologizing. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are still leaking tears, but he doesn’t seem distressed at Mondo holding him anymore. At least... Mondo hopes he isn’t. And then... t-then...

 Kiyotaka buries his head in his chest, firm and present, hiding his face. His arms come up too, fists curling into Mondo’s tank top, clutching it like his life depends on it. And then he... he just...

 Lets go.

 The kid is crying so fucking hard, chest heaving, sobs loud and noisy, and fuck, does it hurt. Mondo feels so fucking helpless as he holds the kid, doing all he can to rub soothing circles on his back, whisper soft words in his ear, doing all he can to remember the shit Daiya would say when he was little and he still allowed himself to cry, not yet realizing it was wrong of him to do such a thing. He feels like it’s not enough, never enough, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s never seen the kid cry so hard before. Before he- he would always stifle it, keep it in. 

 Mondo hadn’t realized it at the time, but seeing the kid truly let go now, he can see just how hard he would fight to keep his tears and true sorrow contained, and he feels so much for the boy that he can’t even begin to describe it. It’s like... a sad kind of pride. Like he’s proud the kid was able to keep going despite the sorrow and despair he clearly feels, but also so, so fucking sad that the kid had to do it. That he had to keep this all in, unable to have anyone to share his burden with, to shoulder the pain and anguish he so clearly feels inside. Mondo... M-Mondo knows what that is like, what it’s like to have to always keep everything in, never let it out, and he... he hates that Kiyotaka knows it, too. The pain.  The loneliness. 

 Maybe they really aren’t so different... are they? 

 Fuck... and who knows? Maybe that’s why he’s always cared so much about this kid. He... he just reminds him of him so goddamn much. Of... of the kid he used to be, before he built up walls so high around that child that he’d never see the light of day again. Of the scared little boy that he was, wondering why his parents hated him, why he was never good enough, why he didn’t fucking matter. He’d always been so scared and sad back then, so small and weak. Kinda like Kiyotaka is now, even with how fucking strong he knows this kid to usually be. 

 But...

 But he had Daiya, didn’t he? Even when the whole world was against him, (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~) he... he always had Daiya. Daiya, who loved him. Daiya, who cared for him. Daiya who raised him, Daiya who taught him, Daiya who sacrificed fucking everything for him. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~). It didn’t matter that he was scared, or that he was weak. Daiya loved him regardless, and he always, always kept him safe. 

 Kiyotaka... Kiyotaka never had that... did he? He can’t say for sure, but the kid has never mentioned a sibling, either older or younger, which makes him think he’s an only, no sibs, bro or sis. Which means that he... he didn’t have anyone always on his side. Someone who would protect him no matter what. Or someone that he could protect, no matter what. His da is clearly not that great, if Kiyotaka’s words about him hating him were to go by, and his ma is gone, who knows for how long, or what his relationship was to her when she was around. He... he didn’t have someone to protect him... to keep him safe, from all harm... to... t-to love him...

 Eventually the kid stops crying so hard, the desperate sobs petering out into soft, quiet ones, his breath hitching only slightly every few seconds. And then, a little while later he... he stops sobbing entirely. The tears have run dry, his body has stopped shaking, but he... he doesn’t move away. He just stays there, in Mondo’s arms. 

 Like he belongs there... 

 “Ya feelin’ better?”

 The words are said softly. Gently. He doesn’t wanna spook the kid, knowing how fragile he prolly feels right about now. Mondo gets it. He hasn’t let himself cry fully in years, not even... h-heh. Well. Point is, while he’s not truly cried in years, he remembers how fragile it leaves you feeling afterward. How shaky. 

 And when he sees Kiyotaka’s eyes dart up, looking scared and afraid, Mondo doesn’t tense up. Doesn’t try and hide the openness on his face. He lets the kid see it. The softness. The care. The... the affection, because god, does he feel affection. He lets the kid see it, and he feels the kid settle against him, the fear vanishing, though the lingering sorrow remains. God... how Mondo wishes he could take that away...

 “Yes. I... yes. M-Mondo... t-thank you. I... I’m sorry...”

 Mondo can’t help the way he reaches out at that, hand gently grasping a warm, wet cheek. He realizes absently that that’s the first time the kid has said his name, and god is it making his insides squirm. And he can see the kid look at him with wide, watery eyes, lips open on a soft gasp, looking almost... dazed... shit...

 “Don’t. Thank me. Apologize. Ain’t nothin’, got it? I... I didn’t mind. At all. So, don’t... don’t apologize. It’s alright. You’re... you’re alright.” 

 And he means it. God... does he mean it. It... it had felt nice. So very, very nice. Holding Kiyotaka. Comforting him as he cried, somehow not fucking it up as badly as he’d been fearing. He’s always been so fucking shit at comforting people, feeling like he has to be tough all the time, unable to comfort since tough people aren’t soft and sympathetic. But here, with Kiyotaka... h-he’d been able to be soft. Kind. Gentle. All the things he’s secretly yearned to be for so fucking long, but never was able to, since he doesn’t lead a life that is suited for such things. He always has to be so tough, so strong, but... but with Kiyotaka... with this wondrous, amazing, incredible, beautiful boy...

 He can be soft. 

 And he will never be able to thank Kiyotaka enough for giving him that ability. 

 And when Kiyotaka smiles at him, wide, bright, unrestrained...? Mondo can’t help how he smiles back, wider than he’s ever felt it go before, heart beating so softly and yet meaningfully, feeling so very much for this precious boy. He... he’ll never be able to repay him for this... will he? For what he has given him this day... even if they are never this close again, even if Kiyotaka doesn’t want anything to do with him after this, he’ll never forget what this felt like. What it feels like to be soft. And gentle. And... and kind. 

 But... shit. Shit. 

 Now that they have this... now that he’s tasted this... what happens now? He... he doesn’t wanna... 

 “Shit, man. The fuck we do now? I... I don’t wanna go back ta how it was. I... shit. I was a goddamn monster ta ya these last few weeks... since we met, shit… I... goddamn it,” Mondo mutters, feeling his smile fade as pain fills him, remembering all the shit he has done to this poor, amazing kid. The shit he’s said. The way he’s acted. Kiyotaka gave him so much today, but he hadn’t earned any of it, had he...? He can see the kid shaking his head, looking frantic, like he doesn’t agree, and Mondo can’t help how he glares. Lightly, but it still makes the kid flinch back, proving how much he’s hurt him, and how much he can still, potentially, hurt him. God... he doesn’t wanna ever hurt him... not again… “No, don’t deny it. I was a fuckin’ moron. I just... I ain’t ever... I don’t get you, Kiyotaka. What I feel... when you- you look at me...” 

 And it’s true. He still doesn’t quite get it. What he feels. Why he feels it. It... he thinks he might kinda get it, might kinda realize what this feeling is, why he wants to protect this kid so badly, but it... it doesn’t quite feel like it fits. And he just... he just doesn’t know... but... if not this then... what else? H-heh... 

 Sighing softly, feeling so confused but strangely not angry about it, Mondo allows a wry smile to rise on his lips as he presses closer to the kid, as close as he’s always secretly longed to be, since that first day when he held him but not ever close enough. One of his hands is curled loosely around Kiyotaka’s waist, while his other is still gently cupping his cheek and has been for a little while now. He notices dimly how they are almost bare, Kiyotaka wearing only his underwear while Mondo is in his thin tank top and loose black pants, and he can feel the kid’s heat as it presses against him, oddly intoxicating. Mondo’s hair is down from its pomp, having been knocked loose sometime in the sauna, and it’s been years since someone outside his gang saw him without it up, it makes him feel so naked to have it down, but he... he doesn’t really care. Not when it’s only Kiyotaka who sees it. 

 He... he wants Kiyotaka to see all of him... every last part. 

 Because he... he views the kid like... like a... 

 “It’s like yer my brother or somethin’. Like... my nerdy, dorky little brother. Someone I gotta take care of. Protect. Keep safe, from all harm. I never... shit. I had my brother, but he... he’s gone now. I can’t... I couldn’t protect him, fuck. An’ I… f-fuck. I can’t protect you, either, can I...?  No, I… I can’t... I can’t... a-and why the fuck would you want a fuck-up like me, anyway? You... god, you could do so much better... why would you want someone like me as your brother, s-shit...” 

 The thought stabs Mondo through the heart, the realization that as much as he may want to have this with Kiyotaka, to have a brotherhood with him, they... they likely never will. Because Mondo has messed up too much. Because Mondo ruined their chance before it ever even had the opportunity to live. Because Mondo is so fucking broken and damaged that no one in their right mind would ever want him as a brother. Daiya was forced to have him, and he was so fucking amazing that he chose to love him anyway, but Kiyotaka... he doesn’t have to be stuck with him. He doesn’t owe Mondo anything, anything at all. In fact, Mondo is the one who owes Kiyotaka. So much. So very, very much. Kiyotaka wouldn’t want him. He just... he wouldn’t. 

 And as he feels the kid freeze against him, breath stuttering and harsh, he... he knows he’s right, isn’t he? S-shit... he shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have thought himself good enough to deserve such a gift. Kiyotaka, wanting him like that... wanting him at all... while he may have been soft and pliant in his arms a moment ago, seeming like he was at ease, that doesn’t mean it was because of Mondo or anything that Mondo did. He’d been through an emotional time and he’d needed comfort, and Mondo had just been the nearest warm body. Doesn’t mean he trusts Mondo or that he wants anything from him at all. He’d have to be the world’s biggest fool to think Kiyotaka could ever want him, want him at all. 

 And Mondo... he may be a fool, but he ain’t that big of a fool. 

 Heart aching painfully in his chest, Mondo can’t help how he pulls away, not wanting to force Kiyotaka to be near him when he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve it at all.

 “Shit, I was right, goddamn it, aw shit! J-just forget I said anything, I- fuck!” 

 Mondo hands come up to clutch at his hair, then, the grip tight and painful but he doesn’t care. He wants it to hurt. To ache. It’s what he deserves for fucking this whole thing up, for being so woefully unworthy of being close to such a bright and beautiful boy. Maybe, had he been better— a better person, a good person— he could have been worthy of it. Had he never let his insecurities get in the way, had he just accepted what he felt as true the minute he felt it, not pushed it away in fear, maybe... maybe then, he could have had this. Kiyotaka, as his friend. Kiyotaka, as his brother. 

 But no. No, no. He had pushed it away. Had been afraid of it, so very afraid. Had let his fear turn to anger, like he was so wont to do, and ruined everything before it even began. 

 He deserves all the misery he feels for how stupid he’d been... 

 Mondo gets jolted out of his thoughts when he feels a soft, tentative hand touch him, his eyes wide and manic as he looks at Kiyotaka, who looks so fucking afraid, god. H-he scares the kid so goddamn much, like he scares everyone, because he’s a monster, a senseless beast that only ever hurts people. Breaks people. He’s not allowed nice things, not allowed good things. Not allowed to be gentle, or soft, or kind. He... he’s just not... 

 To his utter shock, he can see Kiyotaka smile at him. It’s soft, and hesitant, and... and beautiful... but it can’t be real. It... the kid is trying to be kind, trying to hide his fear to make Mondo feel better, because he’s so goddamn nice, so fucking good, shit- 

 “N-no! Don’t worry! I was just- not expecting that! But I- I feel- the same. I feel- the same! I would be honored, Mondo Owada, to be considered your brother! I’ve never had a brother, never even had a friend, but I couldn’t imagine a better one than you! Y-you... you’re incredible...” 

 He... he... does he really mean that...? Does he truly... truly wanna be Mondo’s... Mondo’s brother? The kid is so bad at lying, and it hadn’t sounded like he was lying, but... but it... shit. It can’t be true, it can’t... after all the shit Mondo has done, how could the kid ever see him positively, even a little? Mondo isn’t a good brother, he’d always been so shit to Daiya, taking and taking and taking and never giving. He’d taken everything from Daiya, never satisfied with what Daiya gave freely, so he stole the most important thing in the end. 

 H-he’d just steal everything from Kiyotaka too. 

 It’s what he does... 

 “Ya can’t mean that, Kiyotaka... I’m a goddamn mess... and you... you are... shit. You’re goddamn perfect and I’m hot dog shit, ya can’t... y-you can’t...”

 And it’s true. Mondo has more to say, more to confess, but his throat is so thick, and he doesn’t know how to say it. To confess all his crimes to Kiyotaka, to let him know how unworthy he is. He- he hears Kiyotaka take a deep breath, and he doesn’t wanna hear what the kid has to say, doesn’t wanna hear him agree, but then he’s speaking, and his words... t-they... 

 “Mondo... I- I’m not perfect. I... I’m not. B-but that’s okay! I do my best, but so do you! I can see how hard you try and sometimes that’s all that matters! You’re not... dog feces! You... you’re so much more, Mondo...” 

 No... n-no, the kid, he... he doesn’t understand, he just- he doesn’t understand! Mondo, he has to... has to tell him. N-not all of it, he’s not strong enough to confess it all, he’s always been so goddamn weak, but he- he has to... a little. Enough so the kid knows. So he stops feeling pity for him and realizes that he... 

 He’s just not worth it... 

 “No. N-no, I ain’t shit, goddamnit, I...” Mondo has to stop, feeling so fucking conflicted. On one hand he wants to confess, on the other hand he wants to be selfish, and he just... h-he just... 

 But he can’t. Be selfish. Not... not about this. 

 Not with Kiyotaka. 

 With a soft sigh, he feels the tension inside him melt away, his body relaxing with the decision he’s made. All of his emotions— both good and bad— fade away until all he feels inside is... is...

 Cold resignation...

 “I hate myself. Always fuckin’ have. Heh. There, I... I fuckin’ said it. I love the gang, don’t get me wrong. I love bein’ with ‘em, bein’ a part a’ somethin’ bigger than myself. I love leadin’ ‘em, ridin’ my hog, wind in my hair... I fuckin’ love it. Even bein’ here, unable ta lead directly, I still like callin’ the shots from behind the scenes while my second in command implements it an’ shit. Means somethin’, ‘least. But... I dunno. Sometimes I’ll be in the middle ofa fight and I’ll just... wanna stop. Quit. Do somethin’... do somethin’ else fer a change. But I… heh. I can’t. I promised my bro... Daiya, I... I promised him I’d keep the gang together. He built it from scratch an’ I... I can’t leave that. I made a promise, a man’s promise, ta keep us together. So, I... I gotta keep doin’ that. Can’t stop. Ever. Not ‘til the gang is dead an’ shit, all the members movin’ on ta do better shit with their lives. An’ me… heh. Not much use fer me after that, is there?”

 Mondo pauses, and then looks down at his hands, a small, sad smile on his face. 

 “But you? Yer gonna go places, man. Shootin’ fer the moon. Prime fuckin’ Minister, shit, man. Never met anyone with such high goals, really. Never met anyone who wanted ta do that sorta shit, change things from the inside. Heard ya in class, talkin’ ‘bout yer plans an’ shit. Wantin’ ta make the world a better place, havin’ such hope for this garbage planet. Ya... ya’ve got drive. Determination. An’ I know yer gonna do it, ya know. Succeed. More than any a’ the other chucklefucks we go ta school with, ‘least. Yer just so... determined. Got such passion. I... I admire that ‘bout ya, always did.”

 Mondo pauses again, and he… he laughs. It’s sad, and pathetic, and it... he... h-heh...

 ���But that… heh. That ain’t me, Kiyo. Ain’t me. I ain’t got plans, ain’t got any fuckin’ clue a’ what I’m gonna do after school ends. They got me takin’ fuckin’ leadership classes an’ shit, but the fuck am I gonna do with that bullshit? I can lead a gang, yeah, but that… heh. That’s ‘bout it, Christ. An’ ya… yer gonna see that one day. And yer gonna leave me. And I’ll be happy fer ya, ‘course I will, but... sh-shit. God... goddamnit...” 

 Mondo doesn’t know where he’s going with this. He doesn’t know what he’s saying or why he’s saying it. His head is so jumbled, so scrambled, and part of him wants to tell Kiyotaka everything. About his parents. About his brother. About what he did, what he stole. He wants to confess so, so badly, to see the hatred and anger and rage on that kid’s face when he realizes how big a piece of shit Mondo really is, horrified that he’d ever felt pity for such a pitiless creature. 

 But...

 He can’t. Can’t do that. He... he can’t burden Kiyotaka with his bullshit. And knowing the kid... he’d still try. To feel pity. To feel sorrow. He- he’s such a good person, so bright and shining. He’s the kind of person who would see a merciless and dangerous monster like him and think there’s something worthwhile in it. It wouldn’t be until his neck is snapped under Mondo’s uncaring hand that he’d realize he was wrong. And maybe... maybe not even then. He’d die, thinking Mondo was better than he was, even if it were Mondo who killed him. 

 God...

 So, he can’t tell the truth. Can’t burden the kid like that. But he... he can’t let him get close. Even if he... he really wants to... 

 “I’ll just hold ya back. Ya don’t want someone like me, Kiyo. Ya don’t want someone like me at all. So... I ‘ppreciate yer words. But it may be best ta leave this here. Ta... ta forget ‘bout this all and just... move on. I’ll leave ya alone and ya won’t hafta-”

 “No!” Mondo hears echo through the room, cutting off his words so thoroughly. It startles the fuck out of him, and he can’t help how he stares, wide-eyed, up at Kiyotaka. It’s weird, looking up to see the kid, but he’s sitting upright, almost standing but not quite, knees firmly planted on the floor. But seeing as how Mondo is crumbled pathetically on the floor, sitting back on his thighs, he has to look up to see Kiyotaka. And he looks... looks so...

 Scared...

 But...

 Not... not of- of... of Mondo...? 

 “Mondo, please! I just... look. I- I try to be perfect, but I... I’m not! And I know you aren’t either! But... but maybe that’s okay! Maybe... m-maybe... maybe we can learn to be not perfect... together? I, ah. I don’t know! A-all I know is... I want to be f-friends with you, Mondo Owada. I don’t care about your flaws; I don’t care that you’re in a gang! I just... I want... w-we can be brothers. If you want... we can be brothers. I want... I would want nothing more than to be your brother! Your kyoudai!” 

 Brothers. Brothers. Kiyotaka wants them to be... brothers...

 It’s too good to be true. Too fucking good to be true. Mondo doesn’t get nice things like this. He doesn’t get soft, kind, gentle things. He gets shit. He gets cruelty. He gets anger and hatred and rage. He gets angry fists and cruel words, and a suspicious look on his back at all fucking times. After all the shit he has done, the people he has hurt, the lives he has ruined, he... he doesn’t deserve... he just doesn’t... 

 But as he sits there, staring up at Kiyotaka with wide eyes and an open mouth, he... he remembers something. Something the kid had said, in the sauna. How he... he never had a friend before. How everyone always hated him. And it could have just been insecurity talking, the kid thinking people hated him when they really didn’t but judging by the scars, he... he would doubt that. 

 He’s never had a friend. He’s never had a brother. Someone to keep him safe. To protect him from all harm. Someone to hold onto, someone to tell him it is alright. That he is alright. He... he hasn’t had that. 

 And Mondo is the worst choice for a brother. He knows it, okay? He’s so fucking awful it’s not funny. But... but he... the kid doesn’t seem to get that. And Mondo is too weak to explain why he shouldn’t want it. And, as such, he... Kiyotaka wants to be friends. Brothers. With him. 

 Mondo is a mess. He messes everything up, ruining everything he touches. He... he doesn’t want to ruin Kiyotaka too. He doesn’t want to hurt him. He... he never...

 But maybe...

 Maybe...

 It’s stupid. God, so fucking stupid. But maybe... if he tries hard, so fucking hard... if he is careful, keeps his anger in check, does all he can, he... maybe he...

 He can be Kiyotaka’s brother...

 And keep him safe...

 It makes him smile. It’s small at first, tentative. Like a stiff wind will blow it away. But as Kiyotaka keeps looking at him steadily, earnestly, he... he feels the smiles strengthen. Feels as it grows wider and wider, until it fills his whole face, his eyes squinting with how wide it is. He’s never felt like this before, so scared and terrified, but also... also... 

 Hopeful.

 “Ya... ya really mean that, Kiyo?” 

 Kiyo. Mondo doesn’t really know why he’s calling the kid that, nicknames aren’t super common in their culture, but somehow, he... he kinda likes it. He doesn’t know if the kid does, he should ask, but before he has the chance to, the kid is nodding. Enthusiastic and bright, a shaky grin on his face. He still seems a little out of it, but god, is he trying... fuck that kid is so amazing...

 “Yes! Of course! I always mean everything I say! I would not lie to you, Mondo, I promise you that! We shall be the best kyoudai! You’ll see! Aha! This is fantastic!”

 Oh, god... this kid is so fucking cute! God... h-he really shouldn’t be thinking that, should push it away like he always pushes stupid ass thoughts like that away, but he... he’s allowed to see his brother as cute... right? Or, well... his little brother. Though... fuck. Is Kiyotaka younger than him? He seems like it, as naive and endlessly optimistic as he is, but fuck, he doesn’t actually know. Mondo is usually one of the youngest in his class, since his birthday is at the end of the year, but he’s always felt decades older than the chucklefucks he goes to school with. Maybe it’s ‘cuz he was forced to grow up so fucking fast in order to survive, shit. 

 But you know what? Whatever. It doesn’t matter if Mondo is older or not. He’s the older brother regardless. That shit is felt, not necessarily determined by birth order. Daiya was his older brother in more ways than just because he was physically older, after all.  

 At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that... that Kiyotaka wants this. Wants... wants Mondo. And Mondo doesn’t deserve it, had never deserved it, but fuck, is he a selfish bastard. But he won’t take this shit for granted. Now that they are brothers, Mondo will go all fucking out. No fucking reservations. They are brothers, now, and Mondo is the big brother. The ani. It’s his duty and obligation to keep Kiyotaka safe from all harm, including (and especially) from Mondo himself. And he won’t. Hurt him. Not now, not ever. If he ever does, he will stab himself in the gut, commit fucking seppuku, he swears he will. He’d rather die than hurt this precious, amazing, incredible boy ever, ever again. 

 And so, Mondo grins, and he laughs, and he lets his arms reach forward and wrap around the kid, like he’s been wanting to do since he ripped himself away the last time. Part of him is afraid the kid won’t want it, or he’ll realize how stupid this whole thing is, but Kiyotaka doesn’t even tense at all as he goes willingly into Mondo’s arms, melting like warm putty against him. Like he... he belongs there...

 S-shit... 

 “Okay. O-okay. Kiyotaka, I... I’ll do my best. I can’t promise ya anythin’, know I’m a goddamn fuck-up who ruins everything, but... but for you? I’ll try. That... that’s all I can offer... heh…” 

 It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but he feels Kiyotaka wrap his arms around him, holding on so very, very tight, and it... it feels...

 Like coming home... 

 “That is all I could ever ask of you, my kyoudai! Y-you’re not a- a screw up! And- and your best is more than enough!”

 Shit. Shit. No one... no one has ever told him that before. That the best he offers is more than enough. It’s never been enough, he’s never been enough. He’s a screw up. The unwanted kid. The person who is good for violence and anger and rage, and that’s about it. 

 But here, being held by this remarkable fucking kid... hearing him say that it’s enough... that he’s enough…

 Maybe he’s inclined to believe him. 

 Wow... just...

 Wow...

 After a minute Mondo pulls back, knowing they need to talk about stuff, knowing he has to make promises, and it makes his heart sing when he feels the kid resist, arms refusing to let go at first. It makes him laugh softly, especially because he fully understands. But he doesn’t intend to go far. Just... he needs to look the kid in the eyes. He... he needs to see those beautiful as sin eyes...

 Pressing his forehead to Kiyotaka’s, soft and gentle and intimate, he can’t help how he smiles, eyes shining with the light he feels inside. And Kiyotaka... he...

 He looks at Mondo like he fucking matters... 

 “I’ll be good. Fer ya... I’ll be good. Promise, Kiyo. And ya can hold me ta that, got it? This is a promise between men. That means I gotta keep it.” 

 The kid looks stunned, eyes glazed but not in a bad way, breath hitched, and it... it makes Mondo feel...

 “Likewise! I- I will do everything I can to be the best brother I can be! I promise! We shall be the best kyoudai in the world! That’s a Kiyotaka Ishimaru guarantee!” 

 The enthusiastic words make Mondo laugh again, and he pulls away to wrap an arm around the kid’s shoulders, ruffling his hair gently like Daiya would always do to him. He notices that the hair is a bit longer than it once had been, and fuck, does he like it. The sweat from the sauna had made all the gel run out and his hair is now soft as it dries, curling lightly around the kid’s ears and it just...

 It’s so beautiful... 

 But ruffling the kid’s hair makes it fall in his eyes, which makes the kid let out an annoyed sound, adorable again, and Mondo can’t help the way he laughs. God, this kid makes him so goddamn happy... he’s never felt this happy before... never...

 “Yer the absolute, goddamn best, kyoudai. Kiyo. Hey, uh... is it okay if I call ya that? Kiyotaka’s just a bit of a mouthful, ‘sall. Ya got any other nicknames I could use?” 

 He looks at the kid at that, Kiyotaka’s (or should he say Kiyo? Does the kid like it? Shit...) mouth pulled down in a thoughtful frown. A moment passes, and then- 

 “A-ah! Kiyo is fine! If you’d like! B-but... well... m-my mother. She called me... Taka. Y-you could use that, as well! If you’d like...” 

 Taka, huh? Taka. Taka. Yeah... yeah, he- he likes it. He likes it a lot! It suits the kid, and while Mondo still does kinda like Kiyo, he might like Taka a bit better. And if the kid wants him to call him that, then shit... who is he to deny him...?

 Smiling, soft and gentle in a way he’s never been able to be before, he nods. 

 “Taka... heh, I like it! Alright, Taka. Mondo ain’t exactly got any good nicknames fer it, but ya can call me that, if ya’d like.”

 Mondo watches as Taka blushes lightly, lips still partially open as he breathes in and out slowly. His eyes are kinda glazed still, but he seems present enough. Just... like he’s thinking of something. Mondo wants to reach out, wants to pull the kid into a hug again, wants to always, always be touching him, but he keeps his distance. Just... just for now. But later... 

 The kid shoots up again, interrupting Mondo’s thoughts, looking so enthusiastic again, eyes bright and smile happy. Holy shit...

 “Oh! I can always call you kyoudai!! That way the whole world will know our manly bond!” 

 It makes Mondo laugh again, harder, and he can’t help how he reaches out to ruffle his hair again, needing to touch him at least a little. Kyoudai, huh? ... yeah. Yeah, he likes that, too. Daiya was always ani to him, the proper name for the big brother, and Daiya usually called him shit like ‘kid’ or whatever, so it’s not like Taka calling him that will bring up any bad memories or shit. It’s just... something for them. Their own, little thing, for them and no one else. 

 Him and Taka. Taka and him. Two... two kyoudai...

 Incredible... 

 “Alright, Taka. If ya’d like. Now, it’s fuckin’ late. I ain’t even gotta look at a clock ta know that. Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get ya ta bed.” 

 Mondo stands, then, realizing how fucking late it is. The kid always gets up stupidly early, he remembers Taka saying that once a little while ago, so he knows they should be heading to bed soon. He feels strangely reluctant to do that, never wanting to part from this beautiful boy, but- but he’s the big brother. He has to keep his little brother safe and healthy, and that includes ensuring he gets a good night’s sleep. Even if it means they have to part ways...

 As Mondo stretches, he sees Taka stand as well, his body flushing bright red as he looks down at himself and seems to notice his state of undress. Like he’d forgotten or something. Mondo hadn’t. Not... not for a single second. Shit... 

 He feels his eyes dart down to the kid’s chest, unbidden, and he feels the small smile die on his lips as he sees the long, jagged looking scar that goes from Taka’s collarbone to the bottom of his sternum, right over his heart. How... how the fuck did he get a scar like that...? It doesn’t look like one that would come from surgery or something, since it’s too jagged, and it also doesn’t look accidental. But... but how the fuck... 

 “How’d ya get that? The... the scar?” Mondo finds himself asking softly before he can stop himself, his hand rising absently to trace the length of it. Fuck, but it feels as jagged as it looks... angry and painful. H-he hopes it doesn’t hurt anymore... 

 “A-ah... that...” Taka mutters, his body flushing. It jolts Mondo out of the fucking fugue he entered, and he removes his hand quickly, feeling embarrassed. S-shit... he shouldn’t have asked that, it ain’t his fucking business. Yeah, they’re kyoudai, but that... that don’t mean he’s earned the right to hear the kid’s dark history. He still has to earn that shit. He knows that.

 “Aw, shit! Taka, ignore me. Y’ain’t gotta talk ‘bout that shit. Uh, shi-shoot, I mean... stuff? Sorry… heh, know ya hate swearin’ an’ sh- stuff. Heh…” 

 Taka blinks at Mondo’s rambling words, which makes him feel strangely nervous. He doesn’t let it take over him, though. Doesn’t let himself get angry. But strangely... the anger he usually feels when embarrassed or nervous just... never showed up in the first place. Huh... 

 He watches, then, heart clenching, as Taka smiles at him, soft and gentle as ever. F-fuck...

 “I... I don’t mind! It’s not exactly a pleasant story, but I trust you, kyoudai! And... I don’t mind you cursing! Much! It... it’s what makes you, you! Just as long as you don’t do it in class or in the halls!”

 He... doesn’t mind him... cursing...???? After all those warnings, all of those detention slips, he truly expects Mondo to believe he doesn’t mind it when Mondo fucking curses? 

 But... huh. He can’t detect a lie in the kid’s words. He looks as earnest as ever, and it just... god. Mondo can’t begin to describe how he feels right now, just that it feels... soft. 

 Taka... Taka makes him feel soft. And fuck, is it not bad... not bad at all... 

 Unsure of what to say, what to do, Mondo just laughs again, since that’s the only thing that even slightly manages to express the softness that he feels inside, and he smiles at the kid gently while nodding. He should feel stupid, ridiculous, but he just... doesn’t. 

 God... 

 He watches then as Taka walks over to the locker he’d used earlier, seeming to want to no longer be partially nude. Mondo doesn’t mind it, has never minded being around naked dudes, but he guesses not everyone can be like that. As the kid dresses, he starts to talk. And the story he tells... 

 “It was one of my middle school bullies. I, er... wasn’t well liked, as a child! They never liked how I would get them in trouble, not to mention... ah. M-my, well. My grandfather,” Taka mutters, voice turning nervous as he talks about his grandfather, glancing at him anxiously. 

 Mondo still isn’t entirely sure what the kid’s deal with his grandfather is, but he can tell it bothers the kid, shit, so he does his best to not look at all judgmental, even though the fact the kid was fucking bullied makes his blood fucking boil... shit. He’d expected it, honestly, but it still fucking angers the fuck out of him, Christ…

 Luckily, it seems his anger at that isn’t too obvious, since the kid continues then, voice less shaky and upset, even though the shit he says... 

 “One day, one of them was... particularly angry. I’d gotten him suspended, you see, for a week. It was his own fault, he was the one who had scratched profanities into the headmaster’s car, I’d just been the one to report it! Still, he was... angry. So, after school, he had his friends hold me down while he cut this into my chest. A reminder, he said, to mind my own business. I think he was going to do more but was interrupted by something. It was most unpleasant!” 

 Holy. Fucking. Shit.

 Holy shit, holy shit!

 What the goddamn shit?!

 Some goddamn motherfucker... carved that shit into Taka’s chest...?! And how the fuck can Taka sound so casual about it?! Mondo has never felt so much rage directed towards someone he’s never met, but holy fucking shit, that goddamn bastard had better hope Mondo never meets him, or else he is fucking dead. The thought that anyone could ever hurt this wonderful boy in such a way is just so... insane to Mondo. How people can see him and not want to keep him safe from all harm is just... he doesn’t get it. Even when he told himself he hated the kid, he couldn’t bear the thought of actually hurting him. Not really. 

 And Taka he... he looks so fucking sad, right now. But also, just... resigned. Like he expects that treatment and, while it sucks, it’s just... life. Which is so much fucking bullshit, holy fucking shit-

 Mondo unintentionally lets out a strangled noise, his anger and rage choking him inside. He sees the kid look up at him and sees panic rise in his face when he sees the anger Mondo so clearly feels. Oh, shit... shit, he’s not mad at Taka, he’s not at all, but he can’t make the anger go away, because... because... 

 “They fuckin’ what?! What the goddamn shit?! Please tell me ya got those fuckers expelled!” 

 He had to have... right? Taka is so gung-ho about rules and shit, he- he must have told on those fuckers and got all of them expelled... r-right? 

 Wrong...

 “A-ah! N-not exactly! I... I never reported them! I rarely ever did, to tell the truth... it wouldn’t have mattered, see! The teachers didn’t like me much either; they only ever believed me if I had proof, and even then, only half the time! And they never much cared when I got hurt... b-but it was okay! I persisted and never let them break me down! My struggles made me stronger! Aha!” 

 W... what? He... he... oh, oh god... n-no... 

 “Y-you... what?” Mondo whispers, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands shaking. He has never felt so horrified before, a terrifying realization overcoming him. Because he... he was right, wasn’t he? This kid... h-he was abused. Horribly so. 

 By literally fucking everyone, holy fucking shit-!

 “I mean... that’s just... how it was? I handled it, though! I never gave up! They... they did not break me!” 

 Oh. Oh. Oh, this... this poor fucking kid... his poor fucking kyoudai, having to go through that nightmare, actually believing that it was just... normal. Just... how it was. But he... he can’t actually... actually believe he deserved it... r-right...?

 “Goddamnit... that’s why ya keep tellin’ me ta... ta punish ya, ain’t it? Taka, please tell me ya don’t actu’ly think ya deserved that shit?” 

 He can’t. He can’t. Please, god, he... he can’t...

 Mondo watches, heart breaking so thoroughly inside his chest, as Taka looks down at his uniform jacket, the only piece of his get up he’s not yet wearing. He’s frowning gently, like he actually has to fucking think about it, oh god, no...

 “I- I... I suppose so... I mean-! I... I don’t know. They all hated me... s-so... they must have had a good reason... r-right? To... to hate me. I... I must have deserved it... right?” 

 No. No. No. Mondo... he can’t fucking handle this shit. So many things make so much sense now, and he has never hated himself more. For not seeing it sooner. For not allowing himself to care about this boy all along. For maybe even reenforcing this goddamn bullshit, making the kid think he is right, when he sure as shit ain’t. He...

 He can’t help how he moves. Swift and quick. He- he just needs to be near the kid, needs to hold him, reassure him that no, he didn’t. Didn’t at all. He needs to do what he should have done weeks ago, in the laundry room, and reassure that kid that no. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt. Not... not ever... 

 He stops, though, when he sees Taka look up at him, terror in his eyes, like he... he thinks Mondo is going to fucking hurt him. He wants to go forward, wants to hold the kid so fucking bad, but he doesn’t have that fucking right, so he stays where he is, all the sorrow he feels surely reflected in his eyes. And as the kid looks at him, he... he relaxes. He still looks upset, but he doesn’t look scared. That... that’s something...

 Right? 

 “No. Fuckin’ no. Y’ain’t deserved any a’ that shit, goddamn, man… and I promise ya, Taka, I’m gonna make sure ya see that one day, even if it takes the rest a’ my goddamn life. And that’s a man’s promise.” 

 And he means it, fuck does he mean it. He had never meant anything more. He will spend the rest of his goddamn life ensuring that this wonderful kid knows how special and amazing he is, and that he never, ever deserves to be hurt. It’s his life’s fucking goal now, the one thing that fucking matters. He will take care of Taka for the rest of his goddamn life, even after the kid finally wises up and leaves his ass. He will watch from the shadows, keeping a careful eye on him, there to keep him safe from all harm. This kid will never know pain again if it’s the last fucking thing Mondo does. He swears. 

 As the kid looks at him, he sees the softest and most beautiful smile he’s ever seen lighting up the boy’s face. His eyes sparkle with it, and he’s looking at Mondo like he’s important again. Like he... like he matters. And Mondo...

 He won’t ruin this shit. He just... he won’t. 

 This matters too goddamn much for him to let it slip away. 

 “T-thank you... thank you, kyoudai. I... thank you.” 

 Mondo smiles gently at the kid, moving forward to tentatively wrap an arm around his shoulder, squeezing gently, needing to touch him but not wanting to overwhelm him, god. 

 “Ain’t gotta thank me, bro. Now, we really should head ta bed. Got school tomorrow an’ I don’t want my bro ta be tired! Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get goin’.” 

 Taka nods quick and puts his jacket on, buttoning it with practiced fingers. The kid turns back to the locker, frowning gently at whatever he sees inside. Mondo watches as the kid reaches out and grabs it, his breath hitching when he sees the kid is holding the glasses case that started this whole fucking mess. He... he honestly had forgotten about that shit, to tell the truth, with all the drama that just occurred. But as he looks at the kid, who is looking so softly at the glasses case, like they’re precious to him, he... he knows he owes the kid for the shit he put him through earlier, for no fucking reason. He can’t quite find it in him to regret what happened, not when it ended up like this, but he... he has to make it up to the kid. All of it. 

 So, quick as a wink, Mondo darts his hand out and carefully takes the case from Taka, ignoring the startled sound the kid makes. He can feel the kid watching him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t let it stop him as he opens the case and— without a single moment’s pause— puts the glasses on his face, blinking at the foreign feel. It... it hasn’t changed his vision much, since this shit is only supposed to help with close up shit, but it... huh. He guesses it ain’t so bad... 

 “Huh... I guess they ain’t that bad... tell me, kyoudai. How do they look?”

 He hadn’t really meant to ask the question, but he just... couldn’t help but remember the shit he’d done the last time he’d worn the glasses and Taka had told him what he thought. He... maybe he wants to show that it’s different, now. That he won’t get angry, not this time. To prove that he will never hurt Taka, never again. Not... not ever again. 

 He watches as the kid flushes bright red, mouth open slightly again, and- and god, is it an attractive look on him... s-shit... and then the kid is smiling shakily, giving a shaky thumbs up, and that’s even... even worse... or better, heh... 

 “You look amazing, kyoudai! They suit you well!” 

 A-amazing, huh? Shit... no one’s ever said he looks amazing before... he’s had a couple of people call him hot, or even sexy once or twice, but never... never amazing...

 He adores it... adores... Taka... 

 It makes him smile again. Soft. Happy. So goddamn happy... he will never be able to repay Taka for the happiness he gives him... not even if he dedicates the rest of his life to trying. Which he will. He... he will...

 But it’s late. So fucking late. They... they need to get to bed...

 Even if Mondo never wants to part from this amazing kid...

 “Ah, cool. I guess. Now, c’mon! Bed! Ain’t gonna be the reason ya can’t focus in class tomorrow, ya nerd!”

 With that, Mondo turns to grab his duster off the bench he’d tossed it on earlier, shrugging it on carefully, before finally exiting the bathhouse, Taka on his heels. 

 Shit...

#The Problem with Mondo preview #Mondo Owada #Mondo's POV #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #Danganronpa #Danganronpa fanfiction #My fanfic #Ha hope y'all liked it #:-)

[ssa-sugar-tits]

queen of hearts // chapter eight

summary : y/n y/l/n was crushed when she found out about maeve donovan. heartbroken, she left her entire life behind. what happens when she becomes the most prolific serial killer the bau has ever seen?

prologue + series masterlist & taglist

content warnings : swearing, death penalty mention, angst, sexual implications

a/n : reader is a psychotic murderer. this is purely a work of fiction and if you or someone you know are experiencing homidical urges, seek professional help immediately.

-

You'd accepted that you were going to die. You'd made peace with the way things ended, with your decisions. The only way kept yourself sane in the cold cell was by remembering the good memories you had. Before Maeve. Before your first kill. You sang to yourself and longed for someone to be there but it didn't hurt anymore. No, you were at peace.

Then you were a week late and vomiting in your cell. Your head pounded and you were cramping up like fucking hell. Your cellmate, Diane, had been the first to consider the possibility.

"Y/N you've been here a few weeks."

Not glancing up from your journal, you responded.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I'm gonna be straight with you. You fuck anyone before getting locked up?"

Barely giving the crude implication any thought, you'd scoffed and laughed loudly and instinctively but then froze and looked at her as the words came to life. It took that conversation for you to go to the infirmary and be tested. That morning, you found out that Article 6 of the 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights states: "Sentence of death shall not be carried out on pregnant women."

You weren't going to die. The nausea somehow worsened at the news. Were you relieved or more terrified than before? Hell if you know. There were countless whispers and phone calls made-- no doubt in your mind that some of them went to the BAU. Now what you don't know is what happens next. Where to go from here. Of course you won't be released or get to see Spence again. It's over for you. But you wonder what'll happen to your child when you're gone. Would Spencer want to keep the child? Or would they be thrown into the hell people call foster care? For once since being imprisoned, you're scared. So goddamn scared. The thoughts keep you awake at night, they make you shiver and gasp with panic. Every night your silent sobs help you fall asleep eventually.

-

"Y/L/N. You have a visitor."

Who the hell would come to visit you? Your family wants nothing to do with you anymore and the only friends you've ever really had are the team. Hesitantly, you walk with the guard who called you. Each step feels heavier and heavier. You're not sure if your heart sinks or flutters when you see who it is but something inside of you wants to spring out of your chest.

It's Spencer.

Sitting down, you don't say a word. Neither does he. You just stare into each other's cold, empty eyes.

"Orange looks good on you." He whispers and tries to smile but his face fails him. You want to speak but your throat goes dry and your facial expression go blank.

"Say something Y/N. Anything." His golden brown and now tearing eyes search yours for an answer but you still don't falter. You can't.

"We need to talk about it. We need to talk about what happens next."

He triggers the response you've been trying to muster up the words for. The guard's hand grips her gun when you spit out an angry, hurt yell.

"Are you serious? 'What happens next'? I have this baby and then they kill me, plain and simple. You're a fucking genius, you know that. Don't try to play these games with me Spence, I don't need you to make me think I have some kind of control here." Your voice goes low and raspy. "Because I don't."

It's a sad sight when his eyes fill with tears and yours threaten to do the same. No one speaks, you sit in god awful silence until the guard eventually escorts you back to your cell. Not daring to look back at him, you know eyes are still piercing you with their gaze but you still don't fucking look back. Head hitting the cell wall, you shrink down to the floor and start to cry. You feel small and helpless. They're heavy and loud sobs and Diane covers her ears with her pillow, groaning with irritation. The cries come endlessly and burn your throat and sting at your eyes until you finally somehow run out of tears and screams after what seems like hours. Your head lays on the hard floor and you start to think. Maybe it doesn't have to end here. Maybe you can make a plan. Sniffling roughly, you take a look at the night shift guard standing watch. If this doesn't work, then oh-fucking-well. At least you tried.

"You're new, aren't you?" His head spins to look down at you and you bite your lip, unsure of what you're doing. He's timid but trying to remain showing the 'tough guard' facade. "It gets lonely in my cell, you know."

His demeanor changes immediately. "You're in here because you're a monster. Now settle down inmate." Fuck. That didn't go like you'd hoped. He's right about you but it still parts you inside to hear the word monster being used to describe you. You tilt your head curiously when the profiler in you sees it. Something in his dark eyes looks at you with intrigue and... despite his harsh words maybe even desire.

"If I'm such a monster why are you looking at me like that?" Smirking and wiping a salty tear off your cheek, you know it could work. You bring your hands up to the cold bars and rest your forehead against them. "You wanna tell me your name?"

The guard looks both ways before finally giving in,

"Wilson. Bryce Wilson."

You breathe out your next words.

"Well Bryce Wilson. I want to show you something."

You think, no- you beg to yourself.

Please, let this work.

-

7 MONTHS LATER - THIRD PERSON POV

-

Emily clicks through channels hoping to find a late night movie to watch, she's exhausted from a report on a particularly difficult case.

No way. Not a chance.

Her hands fly to her mouth and she bites furiously with anxiety at her nails when she sees Y/N's face on the screen. The remote falls from her other hand as she settles on watching the news story.

"Breaking news: Y/N Y/L/N, also known as the Queen of Hearts killer escaped from prison this evening. We've been told a guard by the name of Bryce Wilson has been arrested as an alleged accomplice. Sources say the guard was romantically involved with the killer and that she is 7 months pregnant. What we don't know is if Wilson is the father, do we Debra?" The red-haired anchor-woman beside him takes over. "Speculation is certainly out there Jeff. Tune in at 8 for any updates, you're watching Channel 2 news." Panic stricken, she scurries to dial the team and sees missed calls and chaotic texts from just about every team member. The one that catches her eye is from Hotch.

"I know you've all become aware of the situation regarding Y/N. Briefing room in an hour."

And off she, and the rest of the frantic team, went.

-

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds series

[deans-baby-momma]

Truth or Dare-Part 8/20

Summary: The Winchester sibling trio has been through so much in the last decade. From the night of their parents’ 30th wedding anniversary party where Sam and Dean eased Y/N from her innocence to Sam becoming a happily married lawyer with a kickass nurse of wife to the three of them now living in the same town they grew up in under the same roof where each of them came of age.  Y/N is a working mother of three,  her days spent helping the townsfolk make proper and suitable financial decisions while bustling about escorting her two oldest to school and her youngest, Mary Ellen, to daycare; Dean’s garage is the premiere body shop for classic restorations and  car maintenance; people from other state’s bring their vehicles to them to be repaired. Business at Winchester Wheels  is booming; Sam is the legal council for Winchester Wheels and has been since he moved back home almost 5 years ago. He has his work cut out for him dealing with the people Dean pisses off and threatens to sue the garage on at least a monthly basis.

After one lust-filled night, the siblings become more than family.  They become lovers. The three of them, together and separately.

One big loving family.

So when Y/N’s boss calls for her to take a much needed vacation, the six of them hit the road. What will happen? Will it bring them closer together or break them apart?

W/C: 1556

Warnings: talk of body changes, SMUT, fluff, Sammy being “saucy”

I would be lying to say the idea of being Dean's one and only, to know that he was bound to me, isn't enticing and exhilarating.

Although, even now we are already practically a married couple. We basically live together; he hardly ever goes to his apartment and never sleeps there. He is in my bed, snuggled up to me each and every night. We raise our children together, making sure all their needs are met. We have sex. Sure sometimes Sam is involved but there are times when Dean and I get some one-on-one time. And let me tell you, as passionate as it is with both of my brothers, when it is just Dean and I, it's more sensual, more intimate.

So, yea I let jealousy get its claws in me tonight and that monster made me believe that I wasn't enough for Dean. I'm such an idiot.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, looking down at my lap. "I got jealous."

I look up at my lover through my lashes and see the smirk on his face. Cocky bastard!

"Don't be so smug asshole," I tell him but the sides of my lips lift. "It hurt. I thought you were tired of me or that I wasn't enough."  

"You will always be enough for me and I will never, ever tire of you," he tells me as he slides off the bed to the floor and walks on his knees to me. "Lisa was exactly what you called her, a whore. Hell, her pussy has probably been fucked by so many dicks, it'd feel like a hot dog in a hallway."

I couldn't help but laugh at his analogy. Dean Winchester sure had a way with words sometimes.

"You're probably right. What about mine?" I ask, feeling those desires creeping back up my body. "I'm sure I'm not as tight as I used to be. I have pushed three humans out of it."

Dean smiles up at me and lifts his hand,  pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Baby girl,  your pussy feels exquisite. Squeezes my dick just right. They, uh, they shrink back after you give birth. Not right away, but eventually."

"What?" I laugh. "How the hell do you know that?"

Dean blushes and clears his throat. "I might have done some research when you were pregnant with Isabella. I wanted to know what I should expect."

"So I'm still tight?"

"Well not as tight as before you gave birth, but baby you fit my cock like a glove. Sammy too. Hey, we talk!" he defends at my raised eyebrow. "We don't always just talk shop at work. I know about what happened when you tried…."

"Okay. Okay," I cut him off, feeling embarrassed about the time Sam and I 69'ed the first time. I actually tried to deep-throat Sam and actually ended up puking on him instead. The man's dick was lengthy!

"Y/N?" Dean says as he looks into my eyes. "Can I please make love to you now?"

I nod and breathe out, "Yes. Please."

Dean puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me down, capturing my mouth. He immediately requests access that I grant it by parting my lips for his tongue to snake through. 

I can already feel my clit tingling as I squirm on the chair, trying to find some friction. Putting his hands on my hips he stills my fidgeting; his tongue battling against mine. 

He pulls me from the chair and I land on his thighs as he sits back on his heels. 

“Can’t wait to get inside you,” he whispers against my lips. 

“Can’t wait to cum on your dick,” I reply. 

Dean pulls my legs to wrap around his waist and somehow manages to stand up from the floor with my body wrapped around his. I squeak and curl my arms around his neck as I deepen the kiss. 

He lays me gently back on the bed, never breaking the connection as he lays right beside me, his hand running up and down my body, squeezing periodically. 

We slowly work at undressing one another and when we are both bare, he takes no time in taking his spot between my thighs. 

“I love everything about you Y/N,” he tells me, looking into my eyes. “I love your voice, your laugh, the way you walk, the way you talk. I love watching the way you take care of my children, the way you take care of me and Sammy. I couldn’t imagine anyone else I’d want to do any of that with. 

“You have had my heart since I was 16 years old and realized how I felt about my little sister. It might be wrong but it felt so right. Now,” he continues after bending down and pecking a kiss on my lips. “I’m going to enjoy fucking you into this mattress because I really love doing that.”

“Go for it,” I respond and promptly turn my head to the side, burying my face in the pillow and screaming as Dean slams into me. He is fully sheathed and throbbing inside my pussy and it feels so good. So good!

“Move! Move! Dammit Dean, MOVE!”

Dean obeys and begins a hard and fast pace, pumping into me over and over. His grunts are just as loud as my moans and whines.

“Fuck! Baby girl, this pussy will be the death of me. Goddamn, it’s so tight; squeezing my dick so good. Oh, you’re close aren’t you? You gonna cum on my dick? Yea you are. Come on. Cum all over my cock. Let me feel you. Let go.”

A sharp thrust causes the tip of his dick to hit that one good spot inside and I see stars! I cum so hard that I think I forget how to breathe, how to do anything, as my climax rushes through my body and releases around him.

“Fuck, Y/N. You squirted all over me,” Dean says in awe. Once I get my bearings back, I become aware of just how wet it is down there. The squelching sound as he keeps thrusting into me is heard throughout the room, along with the slapping of wet skin. 

Dean’s pace begins to falter and I know he is close to his own orgasm. “Fill me up Dean. Put all that cum in my pussy. I want to feel it leaking out of me for days. Come on, cum inside me, all over me, wherever you want. Mark me as yours!”

Dean growls. He growls like a bear right before he wraps his arms around my back, causing me to arch. His hips are going at a maniacal speed as he grunts and pants in my ear. 

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, as he pushes in as far as he can, his whole dick inside my cavern as he throbs and spurts and spews; his cum splashing against my walls and filling me to the brim. 

We lay on the bed, still joined for what seems like hours. Dean’s dick softens inside of me but he doesn’t move. His body on top of mine keeps me grounded and I lay there and think about what happened tonight. 

Dean and I had our first official date as a couple, he took me to a nice buffet and then at the bar he tried to impress me by breaking the record on a mechanical bull. I got jealous and went off on some bitch who was trying to flirt with him, to us coming back and him professing his undying, unyielding love for me and telling me he wished I could be his wife! 

I get pulled from my reminiscing as Dean pulls out of me with a squelch. I immediately feel his cum running out of me and down my ass to the sheets. Dean looks down and smiles. 

“I love seeing you pour my cum,” he says then hops up and goes to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. He cleans me up and then wipes himself off before throwing the rag back into the bathroom.

We climb into bed together and he pulls me close; my head on his chest and his arm wrapped around me. Our hands join on his abdomen and we just lay there, cuddled together. 

“I’ll try not to get jealous again,” I whisper and kiss his skin.

“I like it when you’re jealous,” he says. I raise my head and look at him, confused. “Shows that you do care, you do love me. And it leads to some ah-mazing sex!”

We laugh and I return to laying on his chest. “I have to agree there.”

When we do finally doze off, we are closer than ever before.

There is a knock on the door between the two rooms way too early for my liking, but I can tell by the impatient rapping it is RJ, ready and raring to go. 

Dean and I get dressed before opening the door and rejoining our family. Sam gives us both knowing grins, which I later find out is because he heard us fucking and actually jacked off to the sounds.

Thankfully the kids all slept through it all. That would be a terrible way to start a vacation! 

A/N: Lil fun fact for you. The analogy Dean uses for Lisa is something my brother-in-law said once and it kinda just stuck with me. He was an idiot. R.I.P. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @death-unbecomes-you @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke​ @deanwanddamons​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @supraveng​ @deandreamernp​ @akshi8278​

#dean winchester #sam winchester #y/n winchester #truth or dare #NHIE sequel #dean winchester au #sam winchester au #smut #angst #fluff #wincest #spn au #spn au fanfic #SUPERNATURAL AU #sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean x y/n #sam x y/n #dean x y/n x sam

[chilling-seavey]

Anything But Mine - The ‘Work Wife’

A/N Inspired by this tiktok; Florence meets Daniel’s ‘work wife’

Tuesday, December 15, 2026

Florence watched the elevator numbers tick up to 8 and then the doors slid open onto the floor. She was wrapped in her winter coat, legs clad in grey sweats and hair tied back in a haphazard ponytail and the stroller pushed in front of her. Two-year-old Lucy was asleep in the stroller, bundled up in her coat and hat and mitts and boots, already starting to miss her naptime. Florence was only hoping she wouldn’t wake up while at Daniel’s work because one look at her father and Lucy would never get back to sleep until he came home at the end of the day.

It had been a while since Florence had visited the studio and a new secretary sat behind the welcome desk. She was talking on the phone but hung up when she saw the guest approaching.

“Hi honey. What can I do for you?” she asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Just here to drop off Daniel’s laptop.” Florence answered with a tired sigh and a half smile as she set the bag on top of the desk. “He forgot it this morning.”

“That sounds like him! Wait, are you Florence?” the secretary smiled widely, “Oh my God, I’m meeting the other woman.”

Florence’s eyebrows furrowed a moment in confusion.

The young lady continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard lots about me.”

“No, actually.” Florence spoke slowly, eyeing her up carefully.

“You haven’t? Wow, Daniel’s keeping us a secret. How scandalous!” the lady giggled youthfully, “I’m Alexa. I’m Daniel’s work wife!”

Florence’s eyebrow peaked and she shifted in place, “His what?”

“His work wife! Funny story how that came to be; it started because I just always got his coffee exactly how he likes it in the morning, right when he came in! I just understood him on, like, a spiritual level!”

Florence had to work hard to keep her facial expression flat, “He’s allergic to coffee.”

“Oh, haha, I wondered why he never drank it! He is just too nice to even correct me, I guess. Silly man.”

“Can you just tell him I’m here?” Florence asked impatiently, tapping her fingers on top of the desk, her right hand still held protectively around the handle of the stroller.

“Oh, I’m sorry, he’s in a session right now and asked not to be disturbed. I’ll tell him you came by and I’ll leave this on his desk for him.” Alexa took the laptop bag and slung it over her own shoulder. “He’s been working so hard. I was just thinking that Dan and I have been staying here for so many late hours together recently that I probably see him more than you do! You poor thing. We take good care of each other though.”

“Dan?” Florence nearly gagged.

“We have little nicknames for each other.” Alexa giggled.

“Right.” Florence scowled.

“Anyway, I’ll let you go. You look tired. Babies keeping you busy?”

Florence couldn’t even get out a response before Alexa was stepping out from behind the desk and was heading down the hallway.

“I bet. Nice meeting you, Florence! Be good to our husband. I’m watching!”

As expected, Daniel came home a bit later than usual that night. Lucy had already been put to bed and Penelope and Clementine were just eating their bedtime snack when he came home. The two girls came running at the sound of the door and Daniel crouched down to give them equal amounts of kisses over each little cheek. They were already in their pyjamas and Daniel scooped up Penelope into his arms on the way back into the living room.

Florence was on the couch when he came in, her face flat.

“Thanks for bringing my bag today. I would have come to get it but I was so busy.”

She turned slightly when he leaned down to kiss her so all he got was her cheek.

Daniel frowned and set Penelope down so she could join Clementine back at their table to finish their snack. He sat down beside his wife, “What’s going on?”

“Just wondering if you’d prefer to go home to your other wife.”

“My what?” Daniel was taken back.

“Your other wife. Alexa. And your probable other kids too.”

Daniel couldn’t get a rebuttal out before the girls were bounding back over to him.

“Daddy, can you tuck us in?” Clementine asked eagerly, grabbing the sleeve of his sweater.

“Of course.” he put on a smile for his daughters but was concerned about Florence’s statement and he thought about it the entire time he tucked his eldest two into bed and read them a story and kissed them good night.

Florence was still on the couch when he returned from the hallway and he sat back down beside her with a tired sigh. She ignored him.

“Wanna tell me why you think even the concept of another wife would graze my mind?” he asked quietly.

“How long as Alexa worked there?”

“Few months. Maybe five. Why? Did she say something to you today?”

“Yeah. She said a fucking lot.” Florence scoffed. Her arms stayed crossed over his chest and she stared at the ground coldly. “I’m not the other woman first of all. And I’m not going to stand there and be ridiculed by a college freshman about how you and her are fucking in love or some bullshit.”

“She really said that?” Daniel’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah. Called herself your ‘work wife’…that you two just ‘get each other’…that ‘Dan and I spend so many late nights together haha’. Fucking bitch.”

Daniel’s face literally contorted in disgust, “Ugh, I hate ‘Dan’.”

“I know. And why haven’t you told her you’re allergic to coffee? She’s going around flaunting that she knows your order like it fucking matters.”

“She’s…she just seemed nice and I felt badly.”

“Well don’t! She thinks a cup of coffee is the start of a goddamn affair. What have you been doing with her after hours?”

“She’s not even there half the time after hours.” Daniel answered easily, honestly. “So put any idea of that out of your mind right now.”

“You’re not our husband.” Florence grumbled, turning her head away from him. “How dare she even say that to me.”

“Hey. I know.” Daniel shuffled closer and set his hand on her cheek to pull her gaze towards him. “I’m only yours. I promise.”

Florence sniffled and nodded lightly. Daniel tilted her head up to kiss her lips, lingering there a moment just so she could feel it and when he pulled back, she let out a little sigh.

“I’m sorry she said that shit. I’ll talk to her. That’s not okay.” Daniel whispered, resting back against the couch beside her and Florence shuffled to curl into his side.

“She said I look tired.” Florence mumbled sadly, “Do I look tired? Am I letting motherhood steamroll me?”

“No way.” Daniel tisked, sliding his arm around her waist to hold her close, “You are steamrolling motherhood.”

Florence chuckled lightly.

“I’m serious.” Daniel pressed a kiss to her forehead and slid his hand down to her bum, “Always have been and always will be the sexiest woman in the room to me.”

“Even like this?” Florence sniffled, leaning back from his shoulder so he could get a good look at her; messy hair and few little breakouts over her cheeks and dark circles under her eyes.

Daniel smiled, giving her bum a little squeeze as his other hand reached up to caress her face, “Especially like this. There is no other woman in the entire world that I would ever give a second glance to and especially not Alexa. I am wholeheartedly yours.”

Florence leaned up to kiss his lips a few soft times before nuzzling into his neck. He smiled and wrapped his arms right around her.

“You had no clue she was flirting with you, did you?” Florence asked after a while.

“Mm, no, I really didn’t.” Daniel admitted.

“You’re so innocent, Daniel James.” Florence giggled.

“Am not.” Daniel tisked. “But, listen, I’m going to buy you a nice dress for my work Christmas party this Friday and you’re going to dress up just how you like to and you’ll feel like the most beautiful woman in the room and I won’t be leaving your side all night.”

“You don’t have to buy me a dress.” Florence laughed lightly.

“Yeah, I do. A nice tight one with a low cut…” his fingers trailed down her clothed body. “Gonna blow everyone away.”

And that’s exactly what happened. Daniel bought Florence a pretty red dress specifically for the party and a matching red tie of his own. They showed up to his work party in dress and suit down to their polished black shoes and perfectly done hair and you’d be surprised to think they even had three children. Walking into the venue Florence truly felt like a million bucks and the proud smile that was on her face was only proof to her husband that his idea worked.

They mingled around the various groups, sitting at their table with Jack and his fiancé for a little bit, and eventually finding Alexa by the bar.

“Wow, Florence, you clean up well.” the young woman spoke straightly.

“Thank you.” Florence answered politely, hand still tucked in Daniel’s arm as they waited for their drinks. She had been raised in this exact setting; formalwear and conniving strangers, so Florence worked it like an expert.

Daniel was proud of Florence’s politeness in front of the woman who tried to ruin them a little if not at all but when Daniel was called over to speak with his boss, Florence lingered back at the bar a moment. She eyed up Alexa’s tight short dress and messy curls and leaned in towards her with a calm smile, her two diamond rings on display around her glass in the direction of the young lady, “If you go anywhere near my husband in any way, shape, or form that is anything except professional, I will see to it that you’re fired faster than you can say ‘mine’. So back off.”

Florence returned to Daniel’s side, shooting a glare at the young woman over her shoulder as Daniel’s arm slid around her waist protectively. Like hell she was ever going to let someone get in the way of her perfect catch. 

#anything but mine #daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines

[well-shit-im-a-morosexual-now]

"Chasing Stars" fic?

TW: BODY HORROR (sorry anon but it's like really fluffy if you just ignore the demons looking demonic part)

Different first meeting AU! The Fall happens later while MC is already alive AU!

LONG POST!

MC is studying to be a professional (wildlife) photographer (I've explained why this is my hc before) and as part of a project they are staying at a friend's cottage in the middle of the countryside for a week or two during their break.

One night they see a shooting star, its exact path is followed just a bit later by another (they seem extremely close to earth), then there's two more, almost next to each other, going in a different direction. Two more going in two seperate directions and they're sure there weren't any reports of a meteor shower... The last one is so close that they actually yelp and try to duck back inside when it passes, burning a fiery trail. They feel the impact on the ground when it hits the earth, somewhere in the woods.

And then they're running towards it, their curiosity has always been their biggest weakness. They're running towards a big crater at the centre of a clearing, only a small part in the back of their brain notices the burnt feathers on the ground and the smell of charred flesh. It's only when they get to the edge of the crater do they realise whatever is in there is definitely not a rock.

Rather it's some creature. And their heart is pounding and they're pretty sure they're hallucinating and the smell of burnt flesh is now pretty hard to ignore.

It's vaguely human shaped but much larger. Its feet are sharp bird like talons, its legs are bent in such a way that it would not be possible for it to stand up straight without hunching and its hands are spindly and tipped with long white claws. It's got a pair of large, mangled, burnt wings with only a few white feathers clinging desperately to them. Its skin is burnt to the point of being a pitch black and they can see more burnt feathers along its shoulders, there also seem to be smoldering vacant holes along its sides and back. Its hair seems to be the same grey-white downy fluff of a baby bird and its body is covered in splashes of some sort of thick glittery gold substance.

It's facing away from them making a loud keening sound and trying to curl itself into a tighter ball. They take a step back, maybe to run screaming, maybe to check themself into a hospital, maybe to gather their wits before they lowered themself into the crater.

Whatever it is the creature stiffens at whatever noise imperceptible to the human ear that their step made. It slowly turns towards them. The flesh on the lower part of its face is burnt off showing a full mouth of long gleaming fang like teeth. But that's not what catches their attention. Instead it's the eyes, surrounded by what looks like undamaged human skin. Even with the slitted pupils they look painfully human and terrified.

The creature growls when it sees them, low in its chest as its back tenses as if it was seconds away from darting (not that they think it can). 

And instead of running for their goddamned life like any rational human would MC is slowly lowering themself to their knees at the edge of the crater. Talking to it in a soft gentle voice, like they would a stray cat or rabbit that had been hurt/spooked.

"It's okay...look I'm not going to hurt you,,,,I'm going to - fuck what am i doing- I'm going to help you okay? I'm going to - going to go get my truck and some water and rags and we'll get you cleaned up okay,,,,,just please wait here I'll be right back"

Whatever it -he?- is it's definitely intelligent. It's still slightly snarling but they're almost sure it understood them. So they get up and slowly back away and then they're turning and sprinting. Loading the back of their pick up with blankets and pillows to make a comfy nest and grabbing their first aid kit and opting out of taking actual water they instead take wet wipes and food, a proper lamp and a bottle of water.

Then while driving (as we've established MC is v stupid pls don't ever do this) they frantically Google up how to fix broken wings and treat burn wounds also can birds grow up to be 8 feet? How big is an ostrich? What are the odds of an ostrich falling out of the sky?

When they get back to the clearing, the thing is still there and curls up into a tighter ball when it sees them and it watches them with suspicious eyes but it doesn't growl.

Grabbing some of their supplies they sit back on the edge of the crater and ask whether they can come closer. It growls. They sit back down and talk to it - him? - softly. They tell their name and ask for his. They tell him what they are doing here and asks what he is doing here. They tell him they don't have any living family and ask if there's someone out there looking for him. He keens at this and they immediately apologise. They tell him about the photos they have taken and roll the water bottle towards him. They are not sure what they expect but when he (despite struggling with his long claws) opens it with a practiced movement they aren't surprised.

They ask him if they can come closer, he growls and they apologise and sit back down. They talk about more things, stories and movies. They trace the stars and tell him any stories they know about them. They ask him if he's an ostrich. He growls. They laugh.

While their eyes are on the sky he slowly drags himself up from the crater towards them, they don't hear him despite how big he is but they do notice him out of the corner of their eyes. He sits by them and they keep talking, ignoring the heat radiating off him. 

Softly he coos before placing his fuzzy head on their lap and for a minute they're frozen in place before he growls and shifts more until they start running their hand through his hair. They feel two bumps on the top of his head and wonder if he had hit his head on the way down.

Eventually with the sun just starting to peak out they manage to get him standing up, sliding their shoulder under one of his arms and hobbling over to the pick up. He's a lot lighter than he looks. They get him settled in the back and cover him with blankets and drive back to their cottage thankful that the small town centre is a bit away from them. They talk loud enough that he'd hear them the whole time

There's a bit of a struggle getting him through the door and when they (stupidly) go to fold his wings which he hasn't been moving much he rounds on them, teeth bared and arm up to strike. They both end up flinching and then he's ducking his head and not meeting their eyes and they talk him through it as they fold his wings, and wince at the pained whining sounds

They move all the furniture in the living room to the sides and put down two of the blankets and get him sitting in the middle.

They aren't sure what to do about the burnt skin, it looks beyond repair and somehow like any rawness from when they first saw him had healed into a hard thick layer, he also didn't seem to mind when they touched him. So again walking him through their steps out loud, they dip a rag in a bowl of cool water and work it along his body. The gold substance has dried a bit and flakes off when they wet it, it reminds them a bit of dried blood but there are no visible wounds/scars/damage underneath it.Whatever it came from, whoever bled gold, it wasn't him.

The holes along his body look worryingly like what they'd imagine empty eye sockets would look.

They card their fingers through his feathers, gently plucking out anything that's loose (it's most of them). After that they rub an aloe vera ointment on the places where the burns seem the worse. While they do all this he watches them as much as possible, but immediately turns around if they catch his eye.

The wings. The wings are a problem. They are frantically scrolling through their phone reading articles while a YouTube video about splinting a wing plays on their laptop but they have no idea where to start or how to splint it or with what for that matter and whether he'd accidentally rip them to shreds if they tried to and actually they're pretty sure he's watching the video on their laptop and huh. So they talk to him, they tell him the problem and they ask him if it would just heal like his burns did if they set the bone (maybe it won't heal properly but maybe at least it won't cause him pain - they tell him this too) and he's watching them with bright, considering eyes and they're spiraling a bit and rambling and then he's nodding his head and rolling his eyes and turning his back to them. 

They set the bones and wrap them up as tightly as they can, he whimpers and whines and squirms but he digs his claws into the pillows instead of into them

Once they are done they bring the rest of the blankets and pillows to the floor (with his wings he'd be too big for the bed), giving him water and food (all they have is cup noodles but he doesn't seem to mind). After instructing him to sleep on his front they go flop on their bed and immediately lose consciousness.

Hours later (in the evening) they wake up and walk into their living room and SCREAM BECAUSE HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK THAT WASN’T A DREAM WTF WTF WTF WHY IS HE SCREAMING TOO

After their inevitable breakdown which isn't made any better because it happens simultaneously with his inevitable breakdown. They decide (the next day morning and fuck their sleep schedule is fucked) to deal with things one day at a time. 

The next week is all about cute bonding and shenanigans.

Healing is an accelerated process that only takes a few days but it's not a complete job.

The burnt skin heals into a pitch black shiny sort of leathery skin, with the skin healed they can see white markings along his front and back.

The last of the feathers fall out and new ones start growing back in. Unlike the previous ones these are a shiny black and remind them of crow feathers, they come up all through his legs, at the base of his wings, and a few along his shoulders/arms. To stop him from scratching at them they use a warm damp cloth to ease the irritation (when they'd initially just given him the cloth it had resulted with a lot of grumbling and huffing on his part until they'd taken the cloth with a roll of their eyes and swatted at his head - they'd immediately frozen because wtf was that he could probably realistically eat them but he'd only responded with a playful shove).

The bumps on his head turn out to be horns, that he's constantly trying to get them to scratch at.

The sockets and the missing skin on the lower half of his face don't heal & they should probably be more disturbed by it but for some reason they don't see it as anything too strange, it's just another part of their odd impromptu roommate.

The wings take the longest to heal and their bare skeletal form now looks more like bat wings than bird wings.

By the third day the tips of his horns are poking through his head and they distantly wondered while scratching around them if he was one of those mix & match animals from Australia like the platypus. Part gazelle, part bat, part crow and part human.

Once he heals he has boundless restless energy and is always skittering around the cottage, knocking things over like some large cat. (Part tiger?)

They have to convince him to let them file his nails so that the floor doesn't get scraped up

He's always talking. Even if they don't understand him and his words sound more like bird noises it's still him talking. If they don't listen or look distracted he'll caw at them loud and angrily.

He's very clingy and very warm. By the end of the week they find themself spending more time in the nest in their living room than in their own bed.

They don't even notice that stuff has been going missing until they one day go to kick some of the blankets outta the way and end up stubbing their toe on something hard. Underneath the blanket is a little treasure trove of shiny things from coins to the caps of pens.

He comes along with them whenever they go out to the woods with their cameras.

He seems determined to survive on cup noodles alone and honestly personality wise they're pretty sure he'd pass for one of the guys at their college.

They're pretty sure they walked into him crying while watching Cinderella, cuddled up under the blankets.

Wherever he's from they had technology because they once spent a whole hour staring at him and feeling like they were living through a fever dream while he hunched over their laptop and tapped away at it. He got caught to many many scams and they ended up getting a virus but it was worth it for that single image.

They're pretty sure he has some kind of system with the crows because suddenly there's a whole flock of them visiting the cottage and sitting around it and leaving more shiny things for him to add to his collection. They feed them just to be on the safe side.

He has nightmares. Things that leave him shrieking and growling and sobbing. They press as much of him as they can into their chest and vow to protect this monstrous creature from anything, even God himself

They sometimes catch him staring at the stars. They wonder if he misses whatever home he came from.

He avoids mirrors or any reflective surfaces. Goes so far as to flinch away from them. They preen his feathers and call him 'Pretty Bird', he grumbles and huffs and mumbles something that they think probably means 'Not a bird!' they cackle and tell him he's the prettiest ostrich they've ever seen, he shoves them and they shove back and soon they're playfully wrestling on the ground. He makes sure to be careful of his claws/talons

The first time they realise his marks glow in the dark they nearly have a stroke

He ignores them for a whole hour when they laugh after finding out he is afraid of horror movies. 

Their hands are running through his hair and scratching at the base of his horns while he is curled up around them, his tail (something which like his horns hadn't been there when they first met him and honestly they feel like they're missing some sort of symbolism here) wrapped around the calf of their leg. At first they think he is growling but have to stifle a laugh, lest he ignore them again, once they realise he is purring.

They call him Star purely because that's what they thought he was and he acts like he hates it but they've seen that small stretch of human skin on his face flush at it.

No one in town saw a meteor shower.

They're not sure what they are gonna do with him, not after their two weeks end but they know for a fact they're not leaving him

Both MC & Mammon are dumb af and don't realise how dangerous the other technically could be to them

One and a half weeks later there's a knock on their door and they're pushing him towards the back of the house before they go to open it.

There's probably the most beautiful man they've ever seen at the door and they're blushing because wtf.

He's dressed incredibly well and they're pretty sure they've never seen him at the town, they take a peak over his shoulder and there's no vehicle behind him. Looking closer at him, he looks tired with bags under his eyes.

"I'm looking for my brother" he says and they're blinking because they have no idea what to say to that. The guy almost looks expectant like they're supposed to come out and say that yeah actually they know exactly where his brother is. And they're opening their mouth to actually apologise to him when there's a loud noise behind them and the man's eyes drift past them and widen.

They're panicking 'cause they know exactly what they'll see when they turn around and when they do turn he's charging towards them and the stranger and they're yelping and jumping out of the way while screaming at him not to attack the guy wtf wtf wtf.

His body collides with the guy's and they both stumble out of the door frame at the impact and they are scrambling after the two of them expecting blood and guts. But instead their shooting star is purring loudly, tail wagging, clinging on to the stranger with a death grip and his face buried in the man's neck.

The guy is somehow managing to carry the whole weight of him and is clutching at the feathers on his back with just as much of a death grip.

Maybe one of them's adopted?

The man catches their eyes and his eyes glint red and his mouth twists in the beginning of a snarl but then their roommate is shifting in his grip and murmuring something and the guy's face is softening for a split second before it hardens again and he whacks the other over the head.

The two speak in soft murmurs but they catch parts of the man's words "Father", " Diavolo", "Lilith", "worried", "human body", "Wrath", " family", "Mammon"

He's nodding his head at the man then before disentangling himself from his (older?) brother and turning to them. He takes a few steps towards them and the man says in a warning tone, "Mammon".

He ignores his brother and walks up to them

"Guess your name's Mammon, huh?"

His eyes scrunch up in a way they know means he's smiling. 

"It's cute. Suits you."

And he's blushing and huffing and they're looking at his eyes that are still so human and suddenly they're hugging him tightly and he's hugging them back and they're squeezing their eyes shut and burying their face in the soft feathers at his shoulder.

"I'll miss you, try to stay out of trouble"

He huffs again and squeezes them gently.

They open their eyes wondering what the hell they're doing standing outside in the cold morning in just their pyjamas.

They walk back inside the cottage which for some reason seems much larger and emptier than it was earlier. There's a large bundle of blankets and pillows in the middle of the living room and they have no idea when they did that, they try to kick some of it away and end up stubbing their toe. Under the blankets is a large shiny pile of junk. Were they drunk last night?

They finish the rest of their two weeks at the cottage. They clean up the blankets and spend the nights in a bed that remains freezing even when they turn up the heater.

They go through the pictures they took over the last week and a half. There's some good ones but none that stand out. Nothing interesting or special

They feed the crows that frequently come to their window. 

When it's time to leave they get the biggest box they can and fill it with all the junk that they'd found under the blankets. The box sits at the back of their closet when they go back home

They manage to finish all of their studies during the next couple of years and somehow manage to cover all their student debt without any problems (their friends insist that they must have made a deal with the devil to achieve it).

They take freelance jobs as a professional photographer while they work retail part time. Somehow they always seem to have enough money to eat more than just cup noodles and they live in a pretty ok apartment.

They've also taken up driving away from the city to watch the stars during the weekends

Life is good. Normal. 

And then one day they're falling, ass first, into another world and meeting the most beautiful man they have ever seen.

His eyes widen a bit in something like surprise when he sees them but it's gone in a second and then he's telling them they're going to be part of an exchange program between three different realms and he's hoisting them on his brother.

And then they're begging him - Lucifer, that's his name, Lucifer - they're begging Lucifer to take them instead because one phone call with this Mammon guy and he sounds like a dick.

But Lucifer's shaking his head and he looks way too amused.

Then a loud is voice is coming from behind them, complaining about being lumped with a human.

And they're turning around to get a look at the asshole who was now responsible for their life and he screeches to a stop in front of them.

Eyes -familiar eyes, so very familiar- wide and surprised and confused, the anger dissolving from his face as his mouth opens and closes soundlessly.

And then he's saying their name, softly, softer than anyone has ever said it before.

This is posted on AO3 along with the other fake fic outlines/summaries! The link to it is pinned on my blog, feel free to leave a comment cause I feed off that shit :D

#asks #answers #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me! #shall we date? obey me! #swd obey me #swd mammon #om! mammon

[luninosity]

Time for @whumptober2020 prompt 8!

The theme today is “Where’d everybody go?” - specific prompts: abandoned/isolation.

Content/warnings: Bucky trapped alone underground, starting to be afraid no one’ll rescue him this time; eventually Steve does, of course, though Bucky’s kind of shaken...minor warnings for some minor injury (broken legs), not too gruesome.

#

They’re in France, picking their way carefully through enemy territory, when Bucky triggers the trap.

 He’s on his own, covering Steve with his rifle as those ridiculous red-white-and-blue shoulders pick their way through an abandoned Hydra base. They’d been meant to raid the place; someone must’ve known they were coming. The self-destruct’s recent, only a couple of hours old, but impressively fireball-laced.

 Steve had wanted to search anyway, to look for anything useful to bring back, any scraps of information, any references to prisoners being held. Bucky had said nothing to that last one, though Steve’s eyes’d cut over to him; he’d only nodded.

 Hell, all the Howlies’ve been prisoners. Bucky’s no different. Not special.

 He’s here at this vantage point up on the low rise because he doesn’t trust Hydra not to’ve left a few foot soldiers behind, knowing Captain America’s on the way; someone needs to keep an eye out for threats Steve doesn’t see. Bucky’s watching the whole scene, the rubble, the dwindling flames. Might be some suspicious sparks. An evil gleam of metal coming out of the trees.

 Dum Dum says something to Morita, holding up a piece of lab equipment; they confer. Steve moves, steps behind a broken building, ducks out of sight.

 Bucky mutters a curse or two under his breath. Pushes himself up. Starts to adjust his position.

 He hears a sound. Almost a sound. A click or a catch—

 Steve, is his first thought; but it’s not Steve in danger, no, it’s the hillside vanishing under Bucky’s own feet, dropping away and dropping him—a goddamn Hydra booby trap, and he walked into it, he heard it but not fast enough, even as he dives for the too-far side of the crumbling hill—

 He falls. Fast, and hard, and far.

 He lands wrong and badly, and a series of sickening snaps burst through his body, his head. And the world goes black.

 He wakes up, gradually, agonizingly.

 He’s cold. And in pain. Those’re the first two realizations.

 He’s cold and in pain and alone in the dark—hurting and trapped and taken away from Steve and his men because of Hydra, all over again—and he can’t breathe, can’t make himself inhale, lungs not working, throat making small frantic airless sounds, heart slamming into his ribs—

 No, he shouts at himself. No. You’re Sergeant James Barnes, you’re in love with Steve Rogers, you’ve got a squad of good men and Captain America himself. You’ll get out of this. It’s not the same. Not like before.

 Memory whispers across his closed eyelids: his voice, raggedly mumbling, and a sharp needle sliding under his skin.

 He forces himself to breathe by thinking of Steve. Of himself, back home in Brooklyn, kneeling on the floor at Steve’s bedside on a vicious winter night. Counting Steve’s breaths: in and out, in and out.

 He does it for himself now. In. And out.

 He opens his eyes. Tries to look around.

 Everything’s dark and dim, nearly black. Bucky in fact has a vague sense that it should be all black, that he shouldn’t be able to make out the distant edges of mechanisms or tree roots. He thinks he might be able to see in the dark a little better than he used to.

 He chalks that up next to maybe a broken toe shouldn’t heal that fast and I haven’t gotten even a cold, not even when the rest of the Howlies caught that bug and were puking up their guts, ever since that room and that table on the list of things he hasn’t told Stevie and probably should. Sometime. No rush. Wouldn’t want Steve to worry.

 His rifle’s come down with him, which is good. The hillside appears to’ve sealed itself over above him, which is bad. He guesses Hydra doesn’t care too much about captured intruders running out of air. The idea’s most likely that—if the base was still operational—they’d come pick him up for interrogation or else simply let him die.

 He shouts, “Steve!” He doesn’t expect the sound to carry far, and it doesn’t. He’s pretty far down, twenty feet at least, and that’s an ominous metal plate up above.

 He’s avoided looking at his legs, so far.

 He catches his breath as pain washes over him. Steve knows his approximate location. Someone’ll come. Someone’ll notice the trap and release the catch and find him. Steve will find him.

 He lies very still, staring up at the blackness above, waiting. The pain comes in waves, building, cresting, ebbing.

 No one’s coming, not yet. He feels something sticky on the side of his face; he touches his temple. Blood, he thinks: a smoky smudge over his fingers in the dark.

 When Steve comes for him, he’ll need to be in shape to be rescued. It’s that thought that makes him struggle to sit up. To confront the ruin of his legs, snapped white bone and mangled flesh. The left one’s worse than the right; he’d landed harder on that one.

 He’s feeling dizzy. He closes his eyes again. Maybe some sort of splint, something—his jacket, his belt—

 It won’t be enough. It won’t be enough, because his legs are—and he’s bleeding so much—and when Steve finds him, he won’t be able to get up, he’ll be a liability—

 Bucky, alone in the dark, can’t quite force back the sob. Fingers pressed into dirt. Digging in, futilely.

 When Steve finds him—

 If. If Steve finds him. The possibility swims up out of the shadows along with  silent mocking laughter. It inquires, all friendly malice: you think he’ll guess what happened? He can’t hear you. No one can hear you.

 “Shut up,” Bucky snaps, aloud.

 Do you think, asks the dark, that you deserve a second miracle? That you have any right to be saved again? After you’ve already needed it once, sad little useless toy soldier that you are? Pathetic.

 It has Zola’s voice. Bucky bites his lip hard enough to taste blood there too, copper and iron as opened-up earth.

 The pit murmurs silkily: you think Steve will be happy to rescue you another time? Over and over? When he has better things to do, he’s meant for more, he’s Steve Rogers and you’re Bucky Barnes?

 “No.”

 It says: You know you keep dragging him down, holding him back. You know he resents you for it. How could he not, when you’re so needy, so helpless, so desperate to stay with him?

 “He doesn’t,” Bucky whispers. “Steve’s not—Steve’s not like that. Steve’s…”

 Gas, he wonders. Some hallucinogen. Some trick. Noises in the pit. Blood loss. This isn’t real. It isn’t true. Steve cares about him.

 Steve does care about him. Steve loves him, though they rarely say it—twice that Bucky can recall, never when anyone else can hear, always careful—they say it in touches, glances, Steve’s brush of fingertips over the back of Bucky’s neck or a sketch of Bucky napping in lazy summer sunshine on their old sagging sofa…

 The two times they’ve said the words, Bucky said it first. Once the night before he shipped out, the two of them entwined in bed, both of them thinking about the cold grey light of dawn. Once the first time Steve slipped into his tent after saving him the last time, and Bucky’d felt so shaken and raw and unlike himself, and he’d just needed to say it, to cling to Steve and say it as Steve held him and made him feel good and reminded him how to feel good…

 Steve had whispered it back, into his hair, holding him.

 Steve’s never said it first. Only when Bucky needs it—when Bucky needs him, needs saving…

 What if Steve doesn’t come for him now?

 Steve will want to, he believes—Steve doesn’t abandon people. Against the law of that big golden leonine heart. But that doesn’t mean Steve will come.

 Steve might not find him. Might give up. Might have to make a tactical decision, if there’re other booby traps around. Might not keep trying.

 Steve might finally, this time, at last and inevitably, consider this an acceptable if painful loss, and move on.

 Bucky’s fingers are cold. He’s cold all over. He doesn’t know how long he’s been down here, in the dark.

 He whispers, “Steve?” And then he whispers the names of his squad, he shouts their names, all of them, one by one: but no one answers. Nothing changes.

 His legs still hurt but something’s starting to feel different. He doesn’t look.

 He tries to think. To plan. If no one’s coming, what can he do? He’s got a rifle and his coat and spare ammunition and some field rations in a pouch, enough for a day, or four if he stretches them out. He knows that the pit’s mostly dirt with some metal gears and slabs, covering the roof and part of the sides, making them too slick to scale.

 It’s not an insurmountable problem, surely. He’s good at angles and aim and calculations. He can figure this out. He can get back to Steve, and go right on watching Steve’s back, and nothing has to change.

 He eyes the walls. Is digging possible? Under or around the metal?

 Hydra would’ve thought of that. Anyway, moving’s tricky.

 Shooting something, a gear or lever? Maybe. Might bring the whole place down, though.

 He pictures being covered by an avalanche of metal and dirt, being buried by it and smothered slowly by it; and then he has to stop thinking about it and make himself breathe again.

 His right knee itches. He scratches it absentmindedly.

 His fingers come away tacky with blood, and for a split second his stomach lurches and he’s afraid he might be sick, but then he makes himself stop and take it in.

 His knee looks like a knee. A little misshapen, twisted, smeared with dull red under the shreds of his pant leg, but healed over. Closed up. No bone visible at all. The shape of it shifts more as he watches: closer to normal, less bent.

 He swallows hard. Forces himself to look more.

 His lower leg’s healing too, putting itself back together. He can see it; he stares, fascinated in a gruesome way. Bones and muscles and veins knitting, repairing, weaving. Blood pumping. It’s almost pretty, in a churning awful way. The left leg’s doing it too, not fast but obviously on its way.

 So, he thinks, half-hysterically; so, I was right about the whole not getting sick part, look at that, look at me; and he laughs helplessly, and then he puts an arm over his face and lets himself cry, quietly, coming apart as his body fixes itself.

 He stops crying at some point. He curls up in the dark with his rifle, because he can do that now, he can move, though his legs feel weak and won’t hold him yet.

 How long’s it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? Enough time that he’s got ankles again. His head doesn’t hurt, either, at least not physically. It probably should. His hand had been very wet, earlier, touching there.

 He shuts his eyes and sees the table, the injections, the self-satisfied cruel curl of a smile—

 That was then. This is now. He’s not there. He’s here.

 But here is there, here is right back in a Hydra trap, here is knowing he’s been changed somehow, he’s something different somehow, and no one’ll save him and no one’s coming, because why would they? Even if they could find him, why would they want him back? Someone altered and made different, someone with this secret…even if they don’t know the secret, he’s still a problem, in need of care and rescue…

 Steve looks at him sometimes as if afraid, as if worried, as if Bucky’s fragile and damaged…and of course Steve’s right, of course Bucky’s not good enough…but that’s always been true, Bucky Barnes’ ordinary little loves of comics and science fiction and sunshine in Steve’s hair could never be enough for the real Steve, Steve who would take on the world if he could and make it better through sheer force of will…

 But Steve’s needed him, sometimes. Once or twice. A shot defending Steve’s six. A scouting mission with important information. That’s mattered, hasn’t it?

 If he can get out, he can get back to Steve. He can try to go on being useful. He can lift his rifle and protect Steve and love Steve, silently, hopelessly, and that’ll be enough, if he’s allowed that much. He’ll take it. Please. Just that. He won’t ask for more.

 He can sit up easily now. He can stand, with one hand braced on the wall of the pit. He hobbles around it, pacing, testing. He thinks the light’s dimmed even more; nighttime, maybe?

 He eyes the dirt, and the metal panes above. If he can gouge some handholds into it—

 Something shakes. Dirt moves. The metal above wobbles.

 Is someone here? The Commandos, or Hydra, or—Steve? Someone?

 Bucky sucks in air, yells, “Hey!” and scrabbles around for a rock. Throws it, hard and accurate, a fastball. It clangs off metal and drops back.

 More shaking happens. Excitement. Voices? Maybe? Indistinct, they’re hard to make out. They move away and return.

 A whole lot of dirt starts sliding in. Walls collapsing. Whatever they’re doing up there, it’s making his pit unstable.

 “You’re not helping!” Bucky yells upward. They kind of are, though. At least they’re trying.

 Metal creaks and groans. Being battered. Bending under an onslaught. More clanging sounds boom, the kind made by angry apprehensive vibranium being wielded by angry apprehensive muscles.

 The top of his pit screams and shrieks and breaks open. A metal sheet and half a tree clatter downward; Bucky swears and dives out of the way, and narrowly avoids snapping a reconstructed ankle in the process.

 A whirlwind of heroic passion plunges down through dirt to land beside him. “Bucky!”

 “Oh, hey,” Bucky manages, coughing, through dust and the strange aching sensation in his own chest. Maybe that’s only breathing. Oxygen. Fresh air. “Nice of you to drop in.”

 “Bucky—” Steve’s hands reach for him, but falter; Steve’s eyes are wide and blue and abruptly scared, raking over his body. “Bucky, don’t move, don’t—you’re hurt, you’re bleeding—how bad—” He cuts himself off to shout up, “Throw us a med kit, something, anything, but hurry—” Back to Bucky: “That’s—there’s so much—don’t try to move, Buck, don’t try to get up—your head, your legs—”

 Steve’s hands shake. Steve’s voice shakes. Steve’s face is pale, horrified, trying not to panic. “Don’t look at it, Buck, don’t look down, just look at me, keep looking at me—”

 “ ’M fine.” Bucky pushes himself up. Sees Steve’s expression snap from terrified to uncomprehending. “Really, Steve, I swear. Just kinda bled a lot.”

 “You…” Steve’s hand hovers over his shoulder. “You’re…okay? But—you look…”

 “Head wounds,” Bucky attempts, “they get messy, Steve, you know that.” His hip’s sore because he landed on that; he rubs it gingerly as the soreness drains away.

 The sky’s dark blue, not black, and speckled with stars and ringed with trees, above. Only about an hour, then. Not longer. Just a small amount of time. So small.

 A medical kit and a rope come flying down, and worried Commando faces appear at the rim of the pit. They cheer, seeing Bucky’s wave. Steve waves up too, belatedly.

 “So,” Bucky tries, “want to get out of here? Hey, how’d you know where to look?”

 “I knew you were up on that hill.” Steve’s eyebrows have that tight furrow between them, the one that means he’s trying to work something out. “And then you stopped answering. And when I got there the ground looked wrong. We guessed it was some kind of trap, just had to work out how it opened and where the weak point was. Are you sure you’re—”

 “I’m great, except for the whole bein’ dropped into a pit part.” He starts to get up; Steve dives in to steady him, arm going around him. Bucky doesn’t admit to being grateful for the touch, the anchor, the reality; he doesn’t cry, either, just says, “It’s okay, Stevie, I’m okay, let’s go before Dum Dum decides to throw anything else at us—oh, grab that med kit, we shouldn’t leave it—”

 “Bucky,” Steve starts, but then shakes his head: practicality first, getting them out first. “Come on, here, I got you…”

 They make it out, courtesy of ropes and supersoldier muscles and a shield for leverage. They make it back to their camp, gingerly: Bucky has to reassure everyone that he’s fine, that he’s not hurt, that he’s willing to joke and laugh and take goodnatured ribbing about being a sniper who can’t see a trap under his own feet. He nods and grins and takes steps on his rebuilt feet, which none of them know about, under the stars.

 He jokes along. He laughs. He accepts the teasing.

 Steve stays at his side as they walk. Steve looks at him as if wanting to say something, as if uncertain, as if not knowing how. Bucky’s never known Steve to be afraid of jumping into messy situations before. But Steve is now, because of him.

 He’s not really hungry, even though there’s Morita’s stew. He makes himself eat a few bites, being there, being part of the squad. He listens to a summary of what they’ve found—some equipment, some notes, stuff they’ll send back for study—and nods along. He wants to change; he’s wrapped in a blanket because his clothes are likely unsalvageable. Those don’t appear to be self-healing.

 He’s trying to figure out how to tell them all he’s tired and could use some rest, when Steve’s hand lands on his shoulder, and Steve says, “I know you’re okay, I just kinda think I should make sure, y’know? Want to let me take a look?”

 Bucky’s bones hurt, not physically. He’s exhausted, empty, whittled down to nothing. But it’s Steve, so he says sure, the way he always will if Steve needs reassurance.

 The Howlies, rather surprisingly, only nod and grin and elbow each other but don’t say much. Bucky’s not sure whether they’ve guessed he’s in love with Steve and they just don’t mind, or whether Steve’s impressed them all enough that they’d follow him regardless of anything. They’ve never mentioned a word about him and Steve sharing a tent.

 The firelight brushes his back, as he moves away from the heat.

 In their tent the world’s quiet and lamplit and anxious. Steve’s set out bandages and cloths, but hesitates. “You don’t…need much of this.”

 “No,” Bucky says hastily. “No, Steve, I’m good.”

 “I just…” Steve exhales. His shoulders droop a fraction. The shield’s leaning on his pack, in the corner where he’s set it down. “Can I at least…help clean this up? Some of this…” His fingers touch Bucky’s temple, Bucky’s neck.

 Bucky, who’d sort of forgotten about the head injury, has to remember; and then nods.

 A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumps; but he only finds a cloth and some water, and comes back over. “Tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

 It won’t and it will. Bucky nods again.

 Steve flinches as if the nod’s been a blow, and squares his shoulders. Picks up damp cloth, and touches it to Bucky’s temple.

 Slowly, gradually, under low golden light, the blood washes away. Under Steve’s touch. Cleaned from Bucky’s skin.

 He strips off his jacket and shirt and even pants when Steve asks to see him. He stands laid bare and exposed because Steve’s asked. He glances down and over to the side, where he’s set his torn-up boots. They’ll need stitching.

 Steve’s hand draws back. The water in the bowl’s pinker and grittier now, from red and dirt. “Bucky…”

 “I’m okay,” Bucky promises immediately. “Nothing’s hurting, Stevie, I swear.”

 “Would you tell me if it was?”

 “You asked me to, right?”

 “Yeah, but…” Steve’s eyes do that complicated wince again, some sort of tangle of summer-storm emotion. “Buck…oh, Jesus, Bucky. I can’t—I just can’t—God, I couldn’t find you and I thought—”

 “It’s okay.” Bucky puts both arms around him. “Hey, punk, I’m still here, you came and got me.”

 “How many times…” Steve’s voice cracks. “How many times do I have left? Before someday I can’t—before it’s too much, before you hate me, before I can’t save you enough and I’m not there when you need me—so much blood, Buck, when I saw you, it was—I thought you were—”

 “I know what you thought.” Bucky rubs his back, the way he’d done when they were kids, when Stevie was small enough to hold and fierce enough to punch anyone who wasn’t Bucky for trying it. “I know, Steve. But it wasn’t that, okay? It’s not.”

 “I can’t lose you,” Steve whispers. His face is buried in Bucky’s hair, words landing against Bucky’s ear. “I can’t do this without you. Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.”

 “I won’t. I never will. I promise, Stevie. You and me, right? To the end of the line.”

 Steve lets out a broken half-sobbing sort of noise and clutches him, and then pulls back to look him square in the eyes, and says, earnest as a vow, “I love you, Bucky.”

 Bucky, shocked, can’t answer. That’s not real. Is it?

 Steve’s expression crumples. Despair tattering all flags and banners. “I love you, and—and sometimes I think—you wouldn’t even be here if not for me, you could’ve gone home, you could’ve been safe…how can you even look at me, Jesus, everything I ask of you…everything, since we were fuckin’ kids, and I know it’s not fair to you, it’s never been fair…just keep hoping maybe if I love you enough it’ll make up for at least some of the shit I’ve dragged you through, but it doesn’t, it never does, it’s not enough, is it.”

 “You…love me,” Bucky repeats.

 “You don’t believe me.”

 “I do. I just—” He can’t think. He presses fingers between his eyes. “Of course I fucking love you, Steve. I’m head over goddamn heels in love with you. I’m sorry, my head’s fucking splitting in half.”

 Steve swears, short and self-castigating. “Shit—sorry—of course you should rest, come here, lie down—you want water, something—”

 “No. But could you…” He breathes in, gathers courage. For himself, for Steve. “Stay with me? So I can touch you? Hold onto me, kinda.”

 “Oh, Buck.” Steve’s voice wobbles. “Yeah, of course—of course I will, I’m here.” And he does: stripping off his own shirt, grabbing a blanket, lying down right there with Bucky, gathering Bucky close, folding their bodies together. “This okay?”

 “Good,” Bucky answers automatically, and then thinks about that answer for a minute. Steve’s large and solid and real. Steve’s imperfect and scared and afraid of not being enough. Bucky’s also imperfect and scared and afraid of not being enough, so maybe they’re on the same page with that one, like a mirror image, sort of.

 Steve’s hands are warm against his skin. Steve’s heartbeat’s fast and concerned and audible where Bucky’s head’s come to settle against his chest. The bed’s uncomfortable in a familiar way, the way they both know. The tent’s hushed, and lamplight’s found its way into every corner, banishing shadows for the moment.

 They’re both here. Whatever else happens, whatever comes, they’re here. They’re not alone.

 He doesn’t want to be alone, to feel alone. He wants Steve here with him.

 He doesn’t mention uncannily healing injuries, or seeing in the dark, or the way he can’t quite find equilibrium, as if something’s shaken out of true, made unrecognizable deep inside. If he’s off-balance Steve can be his balance; if Steve needs an anchor Bucky can be that.

 And they won’t be alone. Right?

 He whispers, “I love you, punk. Just makin’ sure you know.” He’s got an arm around Steve’s waist, where they’re clinging to each other: still mostly dressed and. He tightens the hold. “Not going anywhere.”

 “Good,” Steve mutters into his hair. “Good…so…okay. Okay, I’m not either. You’re here and I’m here and I fucking love you. Jerk. Bucky. Don’t fucking disappear like that, ’cause I can’t—just don’t, all right?”

 “Blame Hydra and their love of dumbass supervillain booby traps. You’ll find me, anyway.”

 “Always,” Steve promises, “always, Buck, I’ll always come for you,” and Bucky holds onto him, holds him, and lets himself listen to the words.

#whumptober2020 #no.8 #where did everybody go #abandoned #isolation #stucky #steve/bucky #fic #fanfic #my fic #injury tw #not too graphic though

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 12 Review/Remix: Creation

For only having a couple major set pieces, this was one of the most plot dense chapters we’ve ever seen from this show. Some of those were a lot time coming and satisfying as hell, and some came right out of nowhere to massive speculation and theorizing to follow. But goddamn if I didn’t love every minute of it, so let’s mosey on through to see just why that is.

We open, as many of these chapters have been want to do, with shots of the Grimm causing chaos and destruction, in this case Teryx attacking airships. JNR fly by in a ship of their own, and looking rather concerned as they approach Atlas Academy. Why the shot was framed quite like this I’m not totally sure, because it looks like they’re approaching the city itself from quite far away when really they should have been approaching from the outskirts and flying over the city itself, considering where the Schnee estate is located. Ironwood is waiting for Penny at the landing site at the entrance to the Academy, just as he and Ruby had agreed on, and he’s got a new toy. Both pistols of Due Process have been slotted into the back sides of a larger firearm, a veritable hand cannon that needs both grips just to keep steadily aimed. I think it’s safe to call this the Gun-gun we had been joking would be coming eventually since the early Volumes. The Ace Ops are backing him up, and we see a few Atlesian Knight robots loading the bomb onto an airship so he can nuke Mantle at a moment’s notice just as he warned. The citizens of Mantle are out of the mines and looking very apprehensive about the whole thing, and we are right there with them. Just as the bots have finished loading the bomb and are about to leave they start getting shot down. Ironwood warns the Ace Ops to be ready for any altered state Penny might be in and any trouble her friends might try to cause. Harriet is all to ready to follow through on the general’s terms and put down any brat who tries to interfere, and this whole thing seems to finally give Vine pause. He’s not stopping now, how can he, but he’s reflecting on the path to get here and only now has some amount of remorse about it. Elm winces at the mention of that too, while my MCU fan mind had to stop and chuckle at a pale bald man with energy powers musing on philosophy and ethics so close after the end of WandaVision. Not intentional, obviously, but a great coincidence. Ironwood gets a ping that there are intruders in the hangar, and they all surmise that’s Robyn and Qrow trying to interfere with the bombing. Harriet is ready as hell for a chance to beat them bloody after all this time STILL believing they’re Clover’s killers, but Elm makes a good point that they can’t just leave to do that because Ironwood will need backup here. Lucky for all of them, Winter is here to provide the general just that, so the other three are free to deal with their fugitive problem. With a quiet moment between them, Winter tries to see if Ironwood can be talked down one last time. He doesn’t want to hear it, and she admits she knows it would be impossible to try.

Penny soars in and lands in front of them, surrendering herself to a pair of cuffs and surprising Ironwood a bit in actually coming alone. She says she’s obeying his order because above all she wants to stop further death and she must open the Vault. The virus coming back a little to compel her to this end, or just frequently repeated phrase for the sake of simplicity? Unclear. Ironwood finally lowers the gun-gun he was pointing at her and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder to tell her she’s done the right thing. In a cadence very much not her own, she agrees she has, and all illusions are dropped. It Was Emerald All Along!~ And JNR as well as Oscar are standing a few yards behind her along with the airship she must have been masking the approach of with the sound of “Penny” flying in. As shocked realization dawns on his face, James is kicked in the chin by a backflipping Emerald. His gun flies out of his grasp and she catches it with a grin before disappearing. Damn she really has been getting good with her Semblance! Down in the hangar, the Ace Ops arrive to see the jailbirds slicing and blasting a ton of robot soldiers. Just as they’re about to join the fray Marrow is heard giving a command and his former teammates are left frozen under the power of a Semblance they never seemed to give its due diligence. The assembled Huntsmen and Huntresses start attacking Ironwood and he counters the first few attacks rather well. I’m sure he must be pretty damn shocked to see Oscar still alive after shooting him into a pit, and for that matter probably Jaune and Ren too with what Harriet told him about their mission into Monstra. That and how little sleep he’s probably gotten recently make it very likely willpower and his Semblance are the only things keeping him going at this point, so who are we to be shocked if he starts losing to their superior numbers? And start losing he does, because Winter is on their side and helps Nora bash him upside the head. Winter and Oscar charge at James on the back of a summoned Manticore, but he grabs it by the horns and stops it dead in its tracks. So they leap off and Winter hits him in the back with some ice while he’s busy destroying the summon. With another glyph she springboards Oscar back at James and he gives him the old rapidfire cane jab. It knocks his Aura pretty low by the looks of the flickers, but he still recovers and stops Oscar on the next swing. Before he can punch the poor boy any more than Hazel already has in the last 12 hours, Winter does the most anime move these series has yet to offer us and darts past her old boss to slice him at lightning fast speed. It’s a badass sight that I cannot describe with enough words so please just watch for yourself. With that, Ironwood’s Aura is broken and he passes out then and there. Qrow and Robyn apologize for freezing the Ace Ops like this, but these times call for hard choices. Emerald reappears to get uncuffed and Winter tells the five of them to move on to Phase 2.

We flash back to the end of the last episode where Ruby decides taking Penny to the Vault might be a risk worth taking, and we see Jaune and Ozcar immediately pick up on what she’s thinking. Why not try and use the Staff of Creation and hope it can work a twofold miracle of saving Penny and all the people of these two cities? Just then Weiss gets a text from Winter, and the gears start turning in our minds how this whole plan came together. We see Winter shoving Marrow into an elevator and looking very grumpy about the whole experience. He correctly guesses she’s not arresting him, but damn if he doesn’t get why she had to punch him to get him outta here. She rightfully tells him it was to make it look believable and she just saved his life thank you very much. He notices she’s texting someone and asks whom, and she says getting in touch with Weiss for some help is something she should have done a long time ago. Just then the elevator doors open and we get the payoff to who Robyn and Qrow were so surprised to see last episode: These two. Winter quickly sees this as a chance for even more help, and I think it is the happiest she’s ever been to see Qrow. Shifting back to Schnee manor, Weiss is going over the risks of this plan of theirs to the other 10 teens. Oscar pipes up with another danger, Atlas falling as soon as the Staff is used for anything new. The cover story about Gravity Dust keeping the kingdom afloat was only half wrong, there really is a large amount at the base of the landmass that will slow the descent a bit, but it will still be a cataclysmic landing. Jaune suggests using the Staff to get everyone in the danger areas to somewhere safe, possibly even another Kingdom, but Oscar says it doesn’t just work that easily. Especially not with HIM involved. The Staff has a sentient presence you have to deal with to make anything happen, but he’s a real card this one. He gives you what you ask for and only what you ask for, so you have to be specific and provide details or even blueprints for how to make what you’re asking for. Lucky for them Whitley has access to the layouts of Atlas and Mantle due to preparing for their earlier evacuation plan, so they’re off to a very good start. Oz still worries about Ironwood and the bomb at this point, but Weiss assures him they have a good plan for that. And we just saw what that was and how well it worked.

So now we get to see what Team RWBY is doing while ORNJ is handling Ironwood and whatever else Winter is having them do, flying an airship up to the hole Oscar left in the bottom of the Vault and having Ruby use her new Semblance skill to carry the rest of her team and Penny up through that and into the Vault itself. Klein and the other Schnees are also aboard the airship cuz someone needed to fly it and they weren’t gonna stick around in the mansion after the Kingdom starts falling. Ruby can basically fly now, no big deal it’s totally fine this doesn’t make her OP as hell, WHAT???? Okay I’m done. They get to the Vault door and with a shoulder to lean on and a few supportive words Penny opens it no problem. In the split second before Penny starts self-terminating now that this objective is completed, RWBY zooms into the grassy meadow inside this cold winter Kingdom’s vault on another Rose Express and Ruby grabs the Staff. Time stops as we see Winter escorting James to a cell in the brig right next to her other manipulative father figure Jacques, OJNRE are in front of some sort of computer monitor, and various other shots of what people are up to at this second are shown. In a cloud of blue mist emerges a man every bit as big blue and naked as Jinn was, but while she was thicc he is jacked. I don’t know how to describe his light blue hair but it’s got a ponytail so that’s fun. He seems charismatic af with a voice many assumed was Matt Mercer but is not, and seems he’s still a little steamed over how boring a request making Atlas float was. Ruby gets his attention and we learn his name is Ambrosius. When faced with a request to stop Penny from dying, Ambros informs them a limitation of his powers is resurrecting the dead. So everyone theorizing the Staff could bring back Pyrrha, or Clover, or any other beloved character were disappointed to be proven wrong. But bringing back the dead isn’t what Ruby is after, and once Ambrosius sees for himself just how atypical of a girl Penny is he understands their intention clearly. He lets them know of his rules, he is essentially a monkey’s paw and what you get may be exactly what you asked for but not what you hoped to get. They knew about this technicality problem too, so they brought Penny’s blueprints and ask him word for word to “Make a new version of her using her exact same robotic parts”. The robot parts are what have the virus, and once they use the Staff to make something new that infected robot Penny will cease to exist. But if he only removes the robot parts that will leave behind the life and soul that truly makes her Penny. It’s also not within his power to directly destroy, apparently, but it wouldn’t be killing her because it’s leaving her existing with just her soul. Yang flexes her prosthetic arm to illustrate their point that the mechanical parts are just extra. Ambrosius is enthusiastic to give this a try, but he has no idea what the finished product would be, so Ruby encourages him to get a little creative with it. He’s eager to give it a try but does warn them he can’t guarantee what the results will be, but they insist they have no other options and he does a sort of dance in the air like a full body orchestra conduction. Penny starts floating in swirls of blue mist, and in a flash of white light one becomes two. With his job done, Ambros fades away with a wink.

All of Atlas starts shaking, and ORNJE take that as their cue to start their next task: broadcasting to all of Atlas and Mantle a warning that Atlas is falling. Jaune is the one to deliver the message after some troubles figuring out how to get it working, but before he can offer any reassurance that a plan is in motion to save the masses... the broadcast is cut short along with all communications in the Kingdom. My money is on Watts being responsible, but maybe it was Atlas command on a hunch of what Ironwood would want them to do. James himself didn’t tell them to cut it off, cuz he’s still unconscious in a jail cell. Speaking of those cells, Jacques demands answers on what the hell is going on from his eldest daughter. She asserts that they will be getting everyone to safety and leaving the falling rubble to Salem for all the good it’ll do her, but Jacques is still worried he won’t be among those saved. Winter hesitates but tells him that yes he will be evacuated too. He thanks her profusely but she refuses to accept that credit. If he wants to be grateful he has to thank Weiss for deciding to free him, and that news shuts him up right quick. Weiss has been his least favorite child, yet she’s still the one to show him mercy and kindness because that’s the sort of woman she’s always been and he tried to stamp that humanity out of her. What an ass he must feel like.

Back down in the Vault, two Penny’s stand before RWBY. One looks like we’ve always known her, but starts moving and jerking around robotically with red eyes and sparks flying out of it as it collapses to the ground. The other has bare human legs, no gloves, no power sign on her neck ribbon, a natural fabric bow in her hair, and aside from that is every bit the sweet and good girl we’ve come to know. Some people say this was a mistake or a bad move to take away what made her such a unique character but... they really didn’t. She was able to grow outside of the limitations of the body she came into existence with and now lives purely as who she has always felt herself being inside. And that’s pretty cool. She’s naturally very disturbed to see another version of herself collapsing and dying right in front of her, but feels a lot better getting to hug Ruby. Penny never knew a hug could make you feel this warm inside, and gives hugs to the rest of Team RWBY. It’s very very cute and we’re all glad to see she’s doing so well now. 

With this taken care of it’s time to summon Ambrosius for the evacuation creation. He seems to have no concept of time because he doesn’t realize how little time has passed and is surprised to see they’re the ones who summoned him again. And considering how thorough they were with the last request he’s probably bummed he won’t get to pull a fast one on with a request this time either. They try and ask him to make doorways all over Atlas and Mantle that will all become a single doorway in Vacuo, but he requires too much complex metaphysics and space time bending to make that happen so they alter course. Make a central location all the doorways in Atlas and Mantle will open into, and then have a single door in that big new place that will open in Vacuo. He wants to know just what kind of central location they would have in mind, and Yang says he should make one that exists outside of Remnant’s reality just like the Vaults seem to. He commends them for being so smart about it, but acknowledges that could end up being foolishness instead. As a point of reference for the doorway system, or perhaps just for where in Atlas and Mantle they should be opening, Weiss shows him a series of blueprints for the layout of the Snowshoe shipping hub and how it connects to Atlas. Using that basis he makes dozens if not a hundred or two doorways all over the two cities. They’re big gold ovals with pale blue centers, and on the other side is a big empty black void with a series of narrow walkways without and sort of railings connecting all the portals to a single large one at the end of all the converging paths. Very dangerous if anyone ends up tripping or knocking anyone else over. People are very confused to see these things suddenly pop up, but we see Joanna hesitantly step through one and see just what the deal is. Realizing it’s their way out she seems to go back and tell the others. I gotta admit, the look of this large doorway in the midst of a barren rocky place like this gave me serious ending of Kingdom Hearts 1 vibes, and I half expected Mickey Mouse to be on the other side talking about the Door to Darkness. But that’s just me. Satisfied that the job is done, they thank Ambros who tells them they were indeed disappointingly thorough and they can go now. As they head out the broken robo Penny fades away to blue dust and real Penny is rather shaken to bear witness to that. Before he disappears into the Staff for who knows how long now, Ambrosius delivers one last warning about the world of doors and paths they just created. Do Not Fall. With that ominous warning ringing in their minds the five young women head into the doorway before them with the intent to go to Vacuo with everyone else and the hope in their hearts that they’re not forgetting anything important. We see Cinder wearing a hooded cloak in the midst of a crowd about to head into one of these portals, and it becomes very clear what important thing they may not have taken into account.

Time to wait 7 days to see what could possibly go wrong now!

#rwby reviews #penny polendina #emerald sustrai #james ironwood #winter schnee #harriet bree #vine zeki #elm ederne #jaune arc #oscar pine #nora valkyrie #lie ren #qrow branwen #robyn hill #marrow amin #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #ambrosius the spirit of creation #ambro god of chill dudes #a big blue monkey's paw #the road to vacuo #kingdom hearts reference #rwby volume 8 spoilers #volume 8 spoilers #rwby spoilers

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 8

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 2696

Author’s Note: Gettin’ close here, folks. Two more chapters after this. Always thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67, and @cracksinthewalls for the fixing of my words. Thanks to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do. And I make no apologies about the end of this chapter.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 8

They both jerk awake a couple of hours later to the sound of Dean’s cell phone going off on the table. Dean curses and nudges Kimber, who growls her displeasure and pulls his arms tighter against her chest.

“Lemme up, sweetheart, that’s Sam.”

He pads across the room, not bothering with clothes, and answers the phone with a hoarse, “S’goin’ on, Sam?”

Kimber rolls over, losing most of the conversation as she yawns and stretches. She resettles under the covers, drifting in and out of consciousness. She feels steadier than before, less frantic, but still so worn out. 

Just a few more days of sleep, that’s all I need, she thinks as the mattress dips behind her. The covers lift, letting in a chill gust of air, and she shivers as Dean’s considerably cooler skin presses against her back.

She hisses in protest, swatting at his cold fingers as they creep over her hip. Chuckling, Dean ignores her ineffectual slaps as he drags her back against his chest. His flesh warms rapidly, spurred on by his wandering hands and lips. Pacified by his renewed body heat, she snuggles deeper into his embrace, luxuriating in his feather-light kisses down her neck and across her shoulder.

“Mmm, s’nice...warm.”

“If you want me to warm you up, darlin’,” Dean drawls, his hand splaying over the swell of her hip, “all you gotta do is ask.” His nose drags a lazy line behind her ear as he inhales, his breath sending a ripple of heat straight to her belly.

He presses lush, damp kisses along her throat, down her jaw, and she turns her face to aid in his exploration. She smiles as he outlines each of her lips meticulously with his own before finally flicking the barest tip of his tongue against the seam of her mouth. 

She breathes his name out, and if it’s more prayer than request, neither of them bothers to discern the difference. She reaches back, resting her hand for a moment on the curve of his ass, reveling in the simple joy of finally being able to touch him however she wants. 

When she drags her nails forward over his hip, he jerks against her, letting out a stuttered hiss of his own. He snatches at her wrist, bringing the offending appendage up to his mouth, inspecting it with exaggerated annoyance.

“No, ma’am,” he grumbles, glaring sternly down at her. Any menace behind his expression is completely ruined by the kiss he presses against her pulse point. She purrs contentedly as he nips the pads of each of her fingers in turn; the plush of his lips against each bite is balm straight to her soul. 

“Why, Dean Winchester, how in the world did I ever forget that you’re ticklish? I think this rediscovery calls for further examination.” She wiggles the fingers of her free hand playfully, inching towards his armpit. He sighs, sounding utterly put-upon, and lifts the arm her head is pillowed upon. He deftly collects both of her wrists, stretching her arms up just over her head.

“‘Fraid I can’t allow that,” he says, though his soft expression betrays his gruff tone. “This okay?” He squeezes her hands gently, holding them tight above her. She lifts her head, grinning, and bumps her nose against his.

“I promise I’ll tell you if anything isn’t. I trust you.”

His eyes flash in the dim light, his expression going from earnest to keen in the blink of an eye. She freezes under his intent gaze, her mouth arid and lungs empty. His fingers contract around her wrists as he adjusts his grip and leans down to graze her cheek with his own, and her skin tingles in the wake of his scratchy caress. 

“Good,” he says quietly. Her eyes shut involuntarily at the raw, filthy promise in his tone. His right hand ghosts over her shoulder, fingers dancing a titillating trail alongside and underneath her breast, down and down again, before coming to rest on her belly, just below her navel.

He nips at her earlobe, startling her, and she squeaks in surprise. His hand presses against the plain of her abdomen, hot and steady as she twitches in his grasp. His tongue rolls out, soothing the sting of his bite. He ruts against her from behind, and Kimber finds that she’s panting, twisting her hands against his hold, needing something, anything to grab onto.

“Nuh uh,” he warns, squeezing just a touch. She stills, a whine stuck in her constricted throat. “I’m driving here, darlin’. Relax and enjoy the ride.”

He spends the next several minutes demonstrating exactly how skilled a driver he is until she’s strung, taut and pleading, before him. Her fingers are white in his grip, clasped together in both desperation and supplication. Breathy, whispered entreaties spill from her parted lips between quick, shivering breaths. 

“You beg so sweet...you sure you’re ready for me?” His lips brush the shell of her ear with every word as his hips grind hard against her ass, his hand slick between her thighs. She’s so far gone she can’t even answer, can only moan incoherently as her eyes roll back. 

“Good.” 

He enters her steadily, his teeth closing on her shoulder, and every nerve in her body shorts out for a single, white-hot moment. She comes back to herself as he retreats and returns, setting a steady rolling pace. She throbs around him, and he groans, only just managing to keep his rhythm. 

“Fuck, baby, you...can’t...do that to me.” 

“You...started it!” She gulps in air, heart hammering against her ribs. And still he moves, measured and even, infuriating in his constancy. She can feel every inch of him as he presses and withdraws, over and over. Her fingers flex; she needs to hold something, needs an anchor, needs him to just...fucking...go...faster.

“Dean, I...need...can you...faster, please!?”

“Sure I can,” he says. He nuzzles into the crook of her neck, kissing every bit of skin he can reach. “But I’m not gonna.”

She doesn’t know how to classify the sound that escapes her, but Dean isn’t exaggerating. He drives her mad one stroke at time, never once varying his speed or rhythm. She can feel the end building, unyielding and inevitable, and she tenses against him.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. He presses a palm, heavy and febrile, against her belly, his fingers torturously close to putting her over the edge. If he would just stretch a little further, another inch or two, then-

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Come with me.” He releases her wrists, and she immediately pushes his hand lower, plunging his fingers exactly where she needs them. She’s got fingers twisting in his hair, his hand stroking the one spot she wants the most, and then she’s gone. His hips stutter, snapping against hers as he abandons any further attempt at self-control.

He shudders behind her, his breath sharp staccato in her ear, his heart pounding against her back hard enough for her to feel the beat in time with her own. His arms move, engulfing her, and they spiral together through the aftermath.

When she can breathe close to normally again, Kimber turns over, slipping her leg between his and squashing herself fully against him. His hands tangle in her hair, and he tilts her face up toward his. She expects a kiss, but he simply watches her, his eyes moving carefully over her face. She can feel the minute change in his hold, the sudden tension in his arms, the tick in his jaw.

“Dean, what-”

His forehead touches hers, his arms almost vibrating with the abrupt intensity of his grip. Anxiety rips through her gut, shredding through the peace of the last few hours.

“Up on that roof. If I had been a minute later, if I had stayed on the phone with Sam any longer. If I hadn’t spotted you at the end of the hall...If I had tripped, or...If you hadn’t…” He stops, lips pinched white and angry. “You were on the goddamned edge, Kimber, right fucking there. You could have…”

“But I didn’t. And you weren’t late, you didn’t trip, you were right where you needed to be.” She cups his jaw and gives his head a short, gentle shake. Her thumbs smooth over his lower lip, pulling it gently. 

“I’m not always-”

“But you were this time, and that matters,” she insists. “Listen, Dean. Are you listening?” She waits for his grudging nod before continuing. “I didn’t take the step. I fell back, I pulled away, and you caught me. You got to me in time, and we came down from that roof together. And now we’re here. Together.”

She squeezes his face for emphasis. “I’m right here with you. Safe. In your arms. You feel me?”

His eyes close, painful and tight, his expression hardening as he struggles with something she can’t see. Then he exhales, forcing his shaking limbs to relax by increments. 

“That’s it,” she murmurs. “We’re okay. We’re right here. We got off that roof together. Both of us. So come back to me.” He exhales once more, and opens his eyes. The depth of loss that shines from within him humbles her, and she doesn’t bother fighting her instinct to pull him tight, shifting so his head is tucked against her neck this time.

She never had any illusions that the Winchesters led any easy life. She’s heard a lot of stories about them over the years, and she’s pretty sure they barely scratch the surface of what the brothers have gone through. She is intensely glad, for many reasons, not to be another loss for Dean to suffer through.

He doesn’t react for a long, silent moment, but she persists until his arms snake around her waist. She runs her fingers over and over through his hair, massaging circles across his scalp, pressing against the hard tendons of his neck. His hands press, release, press again into her back, and when she feels a faint trickle of moisture run from her shoulder, down between her breasts, she is wise enough to forgo commenting.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, or really what time of night it even is, at this point. Dean taps her gently, pulling back and lifting his face to brush a kiss across her cheek. He clears his throat and rolls away quickly, though not quite fast enough to hide the red, damp rims of his eyes.

“Sam is gonna be gone for a while. Said there was some sort of weird accident in another building on campus today. He heard about it at the rec center and wanted to check it out while the scene was fresh, interview some of the kids that saw it.”

Dean sits on the edge of the bed, running his hands up over his face and through his hair as Kimber closes the space between them. She kneels behind him and gently links her arms around his neck. She rubs her cheek against his, and a little more of the tension in his shoulders drops away.

Then she turns, planting her mouth tight against his cheekbone, and blows. He exclaims indignantly at the sudden reverberation, and tugs her down so she has to fall into his arms or tumble off the bed. He stares down at her, his expression very clearly asking, “What the fuck?”

She widens her eyes innocently even as she clutches his shoulders for dear life, suspended awkwardly across his lap. 

“Things were getting a little brooding. You didn’t seem to like the tickling, so I tried a different tactic?”

“You are making me seriously question seventeen-year-old me’s judgment,” he huffs, but his exasperation is tempered by a healthy dose of indulgence as he helps her to her feet. He stands, considering her for a brief moment before kissing her forehead. His hand settles on her hip as if it was meant to be there, and she can’t help the sigh of contentment that escapes her lips.

“I’m going to get a shower, since we’re awake anyway. I know I rinsed the dust off from this morning, but now I’m all sticky and sweaty.” 

“You’re welcome,” he says, winking. She snorts in response, though she has to work hard to keep the smile from her face. He leans over to snag his discarded t-shirt from the other bed, and her face warms as her eyes rove over his bare form. Her hand is nearly to his ass before she returns to her senses, snatching her fingers back just as he straightens.

God, what is wrong with me? she wonders, shocked at herself. He takes in her heightened color and outstretched fingers, and a smirk tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Excuse me, Dr. Harper. I don’t appreciate your continued objectification of my person. I’m going to have to ask you to keep your hands and eyes to yourself. Didn’t you say something about a shower?”

He locates his boxer briefs and slips them on before turning back to Kimber. She bites her lip against the laugh that threatens to burst out. She rearranges her face into her most professional expression and clears her throat.

“Apologies, Mr. Winchester. I will keep my objectifications of your person to myself. Several times. While in the shower.” The room phone rings then, but she doesn’t miss his pleased smile as he turns to answer. 

She’s just finished rinsing the shampoo from her hair when she hears a tap on the door. She hears the knob turn but doesn’t bother to open her eyes as she revels in the spray of water rushing over her face.

“That was the desk clerk. Says something is wrong with my credit card, started squawking about calling the cops if I didn’t come down and sort it out ‘right now.’ You almost done?”

“No, but the office is a hundred feet away. Lock the door behind you and take your cell phone? Mine’s there on the bathroom counter, and you’ll be back in five minutes.”

He hesitates, and she pauses, wiping her eyes and looking over at him. He frowns, not at her exactly, his fingers clenching on the doorknob. She has a flash of his expression back on the rooftop, the stricken anger in his voice. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again until we gank this son of a bitch.”

She immediately cuts the water and reaches for her towel. “Grab my clothes for me? I’m coming.”

…

“Fucking waste of time,” Dean spits out the second the glass door closes behind them. Fifteen minutes of arguing has not improved Dean’s impression of the desk clerk, who insisted Dean had given him an invalid credit card.

“It’s the same damn card you ran the first night. Was it invalid then?” 

Kimber reaches over, linking her fingers through his. A sudden gust of night air hits her wet hair, and she shivers, chilled to the bone. 

“At least you got it straightened out. I think I’m gonna finish that hot shower and blow dry my entire body. Maybe a late dinner after that? Check in with Sam?” Dean grunts, refusing to be deterred from his irritation.

“Join me for the rest of my shower?” she offers, half tempting and half hopeful. “I’ll scrub your back.” 

His expression lightens considerably, and he grins. “I mean, if you’re offering.”

Back in the room, Kimber toes off her shoes and immediately heads towards the bathroom. 

“How hot do you like your water?” she asks. She reaches into the bathroom, fingers questing for the light switch as she glances back over her shoulder at Dean. 

A hand closes on her wrist, painful and terribly strong, and yanks her into the bathroom, jerking her from her feet and spinning her around. Her bare feet slip on the damp floor as her back collides with her assailant’s chest, too fast for her to react. Something cold and smooth slides against her throat in a stomach-twisting caress, but it’s the unhinged voice right against her ear that turns her blood to ice.

“Can’t wait to finally hear you scream.”

…

Chapter 9

#spn #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #original character #original female character #angst #drama #teen romance #high school romance #high school sweethearts #sexy times #i enjoyed this chapter #i shan't apologize #so don't ask #mua ha

[gayoperatorgunclub]

For the ultimate ship meme, Lion and Doc? I'm sorry, I'm LionDoc trash-

it’s all good!! whenever someone sends in an ask, i get an excuse to talk/write about one of my interests! really, it makes me so happy to be able to create content that people hopefully enjoy!! 💝💝💝

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - until the end of time, babey

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - it was love at first sight but then they started talking i do think it was some form of ~interest~ in one another at first sight, but then all that drama and lack of communication happened so they didn’t really allow themselves to even dream about the possibility of a relationship. HOWEVER! once lion joined rainbow and they talked their shit out like people who know how to cope, there was a period of a few months that is now referred to as The Four Months of Pining™, during which glaz did a lot of paintings where the subject (who usually bears an uncanny resemblance to doc or lion) is staring at something (or someone) longingly. he calls it his french period. when they finally get together, a LOT of money changes hands. and goes straight into sledge’s pocket (he was the only one who bet that it would take them this long). diana gets a brand new collar (handmade), bed (handmade), dish (handmade), and many new toys (some handmade, some store-bought. sledge’s craftsmanship can only get him so far) 

How was their first kiss? - you know how the french are supposed to be super suave and confident??? and how gay people are trying their hardest but they’re just Not Good at things????? (i know these are stereotypes but stay with me). well, with their 5/8 french blood (i hc one of doc’s parents is fully algerian while the other is half french, half algerian), and their 4/4 gay blood, they have an 81.25% chance of success in matters of the heart. sadly, that 18.75% chance of failure came into play during this situation. picture it. doc and lion. romantic, home-cooked dinner. le festin is playing in the background. they’re holding hands over the table. suddenly, doc’s cat goes into labour. all hell breaks loose. lion is getting flashbacks to his son’s birth, so now he’s hyperventilating. doc carries him to the couch and turns on the fan so he can cool off and catch his breath, before carefully moving his cat, Rayie (arabic for gorgeous, pronounced rye-ah) to the living room in his handmade Birthing Box, then grabs a pile of blankets and a heat lamp and situates himself on the ground nearby so he can help her if she needs it. once the kittens are born (they’re twins!! Sadiqi is the boy, and Amirti is the girl!!!) doc makes sure they’re nice and warm and that Rayie is recovering, and gives her pets while she cleans her babies. once the happy family is all settled in for the night, doc walks over to the couch and just. lays down on top of lion. once he’s gotten over the adrenaline of the birth, he takes lion’s face in his hands and says “promise me you’ll be more calm if we ever decide to have kids” and gives him a BIG smooch while lion’s just short-circuiting like “does he know i have a son???? did i forget to mention my son?????? also what about these kittens??? are they not sufficiently childish to count as children????? DOES HE WANT KIDS????? does he want to marry me??????? wait why is he getting so clo-”

Wedding:

Who proposed? - lion. it was the day of their two year anniversary (yes i AM saying they got together the august after outbreak don’t @ me) and they were on vacation at doc’s family’s Secret Beach House. they were vibing on the balcony, watching the sunset, when lion suddenly clears his throat. doc turns to look at him and finds his boyfriend down on one knee, looking like he might flee to Bermuda. he’s reaching for something in his pocket. doc starts laughing. lion, completely misunderstanding his reaction, flushes and stammers out an apology. doc sees this, and immediately stops, though he’s still smiling gleefully as he catches lion by the biceps, then reaches into his own pocket and pulls the ring he was going to give olivier. they exchange rings, giggling like little kids, and spend the rest of the night making out on whatever surfaces are available. 

Who is the best man/men? - for lion? montagne. (his son is the ring bearer and doc’s niece is the flower girl). for doc? rook. he’s so happy he gets to participate in his dad’s wedding

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - for lion: finka. for doc: twitch

Who did the most planning? - both of them!! do you know how hard they worked to ensure the ceremony was valid in the eyes of both of their religions

Who stressed the most? - s e e  a b o v e

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - lion’s parents. they tried to call him during the reception but doc’s grandma grabbed his phone and started cussing them out, talking about dishonor and how they tried to disown him so they’re not his parents anymore, and besides, his new family absolutely adores him, so really, it’s their loss. once she hangs up, she pulls lion into a hug and he calls her his favorite, if only, grand-mère

Sex:

Who is on top? - who’s topping? lion. but sometimes doc gets bitchy so he gets to set the pace if you know what i mean

Who is the one to instigate things? - they are both lowkey horny 24/7 so 👀👀👀

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (only because they do get to see each other fairly often. if one goes on a long mission without the other, once they get back they will bump it up to a 10 real quick)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - idk long enough ig. maybe longer if someone feels they’ve been left ~unsatisfied~ they might go a few more rounds ;))

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - ok it depends on what they’re doing but usually it’s one or two each, but on ~special~ occasions it’s either doc getting edged and denied for hours, OR doc getting forced to come over and over again until he’s begging for something, whether it be more or a goddamn break even he isn’t really sure. either way he’s crying and lion is consistently asking if he needs to safeword and otherwise checking in because they may like it rough but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - unless someone’s hormones and organs get fucked, zero

How many children will they adopt? - probably none?? idk they’ve already got lion’s son and they’re both busy enough with work so

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - NEITHER!!!!! DISGUSTANG!!!!!!!!!

Who is the stricter parent? - god i wanna say both. like lion and his attachment to rules??? but doc and his Mom Friend energy????? but ig lion BUT HE’S NOT STRICT TO THE POINT HE’S A BUZZKILL OR ANYTHING HE’S JUST RESPONSIBLE (he will NOT allow his husband and son to go vandalize the property of some islamaphobic brits, as much as he agrees with the sentiment) 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - doc will only allow vandalism if it’s in the name of righteousness. meaning, he’ll allow their son to spray paint the walls of a goddamn walmart with shit like “eat the rich” and a portrait of robespierre and a guillotine, but it is a HARD NO on defacing places like the library or community center (unless he has a good reason to do so). lion spends his time praying and making sure his son knows which acts of civil disobedience are acceptable and which are distorting their goal 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - doc. he (privately) dreams of retiring (eventually) and living out his lifelong dreams of being a househusband. so

Who is the more loved parent? - SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE IM GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS. but ig lion??? BUT ONLY BECAUSE THEIR SON HAS KNOWN HIM LONGER. doc is half Dad and half Cool Uncle Who Gives Me Spray Paint And Tells Me To Make Myself Heard (to clarify, i know doc is a pacifist, but im kinda projecting my own sentiment of “we’ve tried to be peaceful but you wouldn’t give us the time of day. now that we’ve “acted out” we’ve gotten your attention, and rest assured, things are going to change.” he won’t hurt anybody, he’s just tired of having to be everyone’s “muslim friend” and educating people on things they could google themselves)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - it used to be lion out of necessity, but when people started asking about his “wife” he was really torn between telling them that he and his son’s mother separated, but now he has a partner and his son seems very happy about it. when doc finally attends a meeting with lion, people really struggle to hide their shock. a few clunky but well-meaning “we support you”’s and “we’re sorry for everything that’s been going on”’s later, doc has used his charm to make friends with literally everyone. from then on, he is on pta duty on behalf of lion and his ex

Who cried the most at graduation? - lion! his parents purposefully didn’t show at his, so it’s a big deal for him to show his son just how proud he is. doc tears up a little too, but manages to mostly keep it together so he can support lion, who spends most of the day heave-crying about how proud he is into his husband’s shoulder. gustave just pats him on the back and tells him that they’ll run out of donuts if they don’t get to the concession stand soon

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - doc. civil disobedience, baby!! he has never been caught. lion fears the law after his youth, so he tries to avoid any visits to law enforcement. he also can’t stand to see his son behind bars

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - doc. househusband, remember?

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - doc, but only because he can be a bit of a spice supremacist. he has to get his ingredients from these very specific farms and markets or else his great grandmother will begin manifesting in their house to curse them

Who does the grocery shopping? - doc, bc he does NOT trust lion to not just sweep all of the microwave ramen and kraft mac n cheese into the cart then sprint to self-checkout

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever possible. doc and maestro live by the philosophy “don’t do anything halfway” if they’re going to go through the trouble of making a meal, it will have multiple courses. 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - doc is more of a salad eater but only for ease of consumption with halal laws. he adores filet mignon

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - lion! maestro enlists himself as assistant head chef after walking into the base’s kitchen one day to find lion covered in flour and lying facedown on the floor, crying

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - also lion! though he’s memorized doc’s order at all of their favorite restaurants, so he usually just gets take out and puts on a big show of being a “tired housewife who works in the kitchen all day just for this one meal” and setting up the table so it’s all nice and romantic

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - lion. he tried crème brûlée once. never again 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - lion. organization is everything to this man. doc helps with laundry and such, but for the most part he leaves organization to lion and his systems (think leslie knope levels of planning and organization)

Who is really against chores? - neither! they both understand that teamwork makes the dream work, baby!!

Who cleans up after the pets? - doc, since lion’s already asked him which color hanger should represent “clothes i can tear off my husband before we fuck” and he needs a Moment

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither. they don’t own a broom

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - lion because of the deep-seated catholic urge to appear perfect in front of others, and doc because people will gossip, olivier!

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - lion. he immediately called doc into the room and asked “is this your stash of drug money?” doc, who had been asleep because it was 3 in the morning on a saturday, just stares at him

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - it is so bold to assume they don’t shower together to “cut costs”

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - lion is known in their neighborhood as the man who walks cats. there is a facebook page where people post pictures of him walking his cats. vigil is an admin

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - LITERALLY EVERY HOLIDAY GETS DECORATIONS. lion makes his own for the muslim holidays since there really aren’t many “of good quality” in stores. when they first started dating, doc came home to find his house covered in ramadan decorations, and lion standing precariously on a ladder, trying to string up fairy lights while learning how to pronounce important arabic words. needless to say, doc cries

What are their goals for the relationship? - mutual joy and contentment!!!! 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - doc. he’s sleepy

Who plays the most pranks? - lion, but they’re stupid ones like replacing certain pictures with danny devito. doc gets back at him by replacing pictures of jesus with ewan mcgregor, and putting yoda into his nativity scene. lion doesn’t notice

#ask #anonymous #r6s doc #r6s lion #doc/lion #ass alert! #could you tell i forgot whether or not lion's ex and son had names #thank you for interacting!

[put-a-lil-alright-in-the-world]

do you headcanon beej as autistic/adhd? if so, would you share some hcs?

anon, you know the way to my heart! to answer your first question, yes and yes. to answer your second question, HELLS YES!

here are some hcs!

ok so beej has autism and adhd, both of which Juno wrote off as him being “sloppy”, “lazy”, “weird”, etc.

when he moved into the deetz-maitlands household, though, they started to notice that something was a bit off

it started with the stimming, something which beej had never been skilled at concealing

a lot of his stims (especially the ones he does when stressed) are blatantly obvious- things like vocal stims (humming, repetition, echolalia), and physical ones (rocking, tapping his hands, biting/chewing things), so they weren’t really possible to hide

and there were a lot of little things that you wouldn’t really pay much attention to unless you were actively searching for them: the way beej seemed to be absolutely obsessed with bugs, how it seemed like he was waging an internal war with himself whenever he made eye contact with someone

the deetzes were the first to notice, since lydia does some of the same things (autistic!lydia ftw!), but at first they wrote it off as “hey maybe it’s just a demon thing”

then, during a family movie night, when everyone was yelling at the cheesy horror movie on tv, knocking stuff over, the volume was too loud, and it sent beej into a textbook sensory overload meltdown

when the fam noticed, at first beej was terrified that this would be the last straw for them- that this would be the last “weird beetlejuice thing” that they were willing to endure before kicking him out, so he tried to apologize; choking out “i’m so sorry-sorry-sorry” through gasping sobs

when the family managed to calm him down, they eventually got to talking; asking beej why he melted down, what it felt like, you know the drill

it didn’t take long after that for them to deduce that he had autism, and they do their best to make him feel safe and comfortable

they buy those super-strong chewy necklaces in bulk to stop him biting on his hands like he did before, and try to turn his room into a quiet place full of stim toys and stuff to help him feel more chill

charles is surprisingly good at helping beej with panic attacks, overloads, and meltdowns. something about his calm, matter of fact manner combined with 15 years of helping lydia through the same thing make him an ideal candidate

they were initially a bit (read: EXTREMELY) awkward with each other, but it doesn’t take long for beej to start seeking charles out of his own accord, whether he needs help fixing a casualty of his latest prank, someone to listen to him, or even just a calming presence to sit with

it takes a few more months for them to notice the adhd, though

he’s bored, wandering around the house while lydia does homework, charles is at work, and the maitlands are working on their model when he stumbles across delia meditating

well, less stumbles and more forces his way into her room in an effort to figure out just what was going on behind the closed door

she invites him to try some meditation to “balance his chakras”, and he accepts the invitation with perhaps too much enthusiasm (“im gonna have the most balanced goddamn chakras you’ve ever seen!” “what do you mean that’s not how meditation works?”)

however, when they actually get to the sitting still and quieting your mind part of the whole meditation thing, beej can barely seem to handle 8 seconds before he a) blurts out a thought that just crossed his mind or b) groans that his mind won’t “shut the hell up”

delia knows that meditation isn’t for everyone, but for some reason she keeps thinking about how he struggled long after he leaves, about twenty minutes later

suddenly, the pieces start assembling in her mind

beej, who is always fidgeting at least one part of his body, even if it means sprouting new limbs to make that possible

beej, who was so excited for the maitlands to help him learn to read (yes beej is illiterate), but just got up and left after no more than 20 minutes of sitting

beej, who paces constantly, loses his train of thought, and seems like the most scatterbrained guy to ever walk the face of the earth or netherworld

the next day, after giving herself sufficient time to mull the situation over, delia approaches beej again, and asks if he wants to go for a walk

they walk around the property, delia trying her best to stay nonchalant as she asks beej questions about his struggles paying attention, keeping still, remembering things, and by the end of it she’s sure- he’s a textbook case, after all

after talking to charles and the maitlands that evening to get their opinions, she sits down with beej and explains their suspicions

beej deflects, at first (“god nerfed me with not one, but two mental illnesses because he knew I’d be too powerful otherwise”), but eventually starts to take it in, and realizes exactly how much this explained

why he could never seem to finish a task unless he could get himself hooked on it

how an hour for everyone else either felt like 2 minutes or 9 days to him

why every bit of possible rejection felt like a stab to the chest with Bad Art

he starts learning how to cope with it all a bit better. lydia shows him online articles for how to deal with symptoms, delia helps him do some beginners guided meditations, and everyone just supports him

on the bad days, when RSD is hitting hard and he feels absolutely worthless, he often turns to the maitlands

they don’t have much knowledge of adhd beyond what they read about in their child psych books when they were alive, but them just being themselves is enough to help beej

barbara puts on disney movies, and cards her fingers through his hair while they watch. sometimes, beej will curl up on the couch, his head on her lap, and fall asleep. she doesn’t mind, she knows he gets nightmares; wakes up screaming some nights, or sobs into his pillow when he thinks that nobody else is awake to hear it

adam sits on the couch, beej’s head on his shoulder, and reads aloud to him. he follows the words with his finger as a quiet way of helping beej learn the words. even though it’s an awkward angle, he wraps one arm around beej, holding him tightly

anyways beej has a family who loves and supports him and autistic/adhd beej holds a special place in my heart

these were really fun! i’ve never actually written hcs before and this list got hella long, but feel free to request more, y’all! i don’t write x reader (just not good at it) or beetleb*bes (ew. go to hell), but request anything else, y’all!

#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice #btmtmtm #autistic!beetlejuice #autistic beej #adhd!beetlejuice #delia deetz #charles deetz #lydia deetz #barbara maitland #adam maitland #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #remy writes #hc tag

[blackbabybird]

Forgiven - Chapter 4 - An Event 

warnings: self hating bruce mostly and bad words. this is a long ass chapter, #sorrynotsorry kind of got carried away. however, we learn new things more and more everyday ;) also i think isley’s job fits her and bruce v v v well. enjoy:)

I get those goosebumps every time, yeah, you come around, yeah You ease my mind, you make everything feel fine

~ Goosebumps by Travis Scott

I parked my car in front of Cork County Middle School. The school itself was a large brick building in the middle of a corn field. It used to be an insane asylum. I grab my bag and get out of my car to head toward the doors of the school. Once I get up there, I pull on the door. It’s locked. I look at the wall near the doors, they have an extremely fancy security system. I buzz the door. 

“Hi there! What can we do for you?” a happy voice rings through the intercom.

“Uh, my name is Isley Thomas. I have an appointment with Headmaster-,” I look down at my phone, “Guille.”

“Give me one second, dear. I’ll get those doors open for you,” her sickly sweet voice came through again. 

A second later the massive doors swing open. I’m greeted by two men in riot gear. “Any weapons must be surrendered before entry into property. This includes, but is it not limited to guns, tazers, pens, and ninja-stars.” speaks the large guards. 

“Pens?” I ask. 

The other guard nods curtly. I shake my head and grab all my pens out of my bag. They take them and put them tightly in between their bullet proof vests. “Follow us.”

What the hell is this place? I walk silently in between the two. We arrive at large double doors with a Medusa head engraved into the doors. The two walk around me and open the doors synchronously. I walk through them towards what looks like the office. That same god-awful sweet voice rings through the hallways, “You must be Ms. Thomas! You’re shorter than I expected. Hm, anyways, follow me.” 

So I do. “I never caught your name, Ms...?” 

“You needn’t worry about me, sugar. Names get in the way. I’m simply the next vessel for Headmaster Guille. Oh, we’re here! Knock twice then let yourself in, alrighty?”

I nod quickly and do as she said. The room I walk into is white and pristine. Nothing, and I mean nothing is out of place. There’s just a desk and two chairs in the room. No computer or even a cup of coffee, weird. “Please, sit Ms. Thomas.” says a voice from my left. 

I sit down in on the chair across from the desk. Slow, loud clacking walks pass me. A woman sits in front of me. She has on black classic pumps, a pencil skirt and a white blouse. I finally make my eyes to hers and that’s when everything starts clicking into place. Her eyes are gouged out in an attempt to recreate Oedipus. “I am headmaster Guille, Ms. Thomas.”

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me Headmaster. I know you have plenty of other more pressing things to do.”

She turns her head, “Why, my dear, nothing is more important than finding one of my sweet, obedient students.” I nod in agreeance despite my weird feeling towards her and this place. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

“Well, I’m the owner of IT Investigative Services. We do freelance investigative work and are outsourced for police work occasionally.” I explain. 

“And your business here, is it freelance?” 

I feel my heart dip in a weird way, “No ma’am. The Cork County Police Department needed help and they outsourced me and my company to help with a missing persons case.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. 

“I see.” she says. Her non-existent eyes felts like they were boring into my soul and making a home. “Well, I will say that we told the police everything, not sure what else I could say.”

“Anything helps. Especially when it comes to a missing child,” I say. 

“Ask away,” she says splaying her hands outward. 

I start asking the basic questions. Just small things I could compare to the recordings that I borrowed from the Cork County Police. Everything was going relatively fine until I seemed to strike a nerve. “So, I noticed that Amos actually lived in Andan County. That’s a 3 hour drive to Cork County. Why was Amos going to school here?”

She opened her mouth a few times with replies, but she eventually settled on, “Amos was a special boy. As are most of the students that attend here. However, he needed correcting. As do all of the students here,” she gives a tightlipped smile.

Now we’re getting somewhere. “Why did he need correcting? Did he do something bad?” I ask simply. 

“As with most 13 year olds, he was ill-mannered and bad tempered. He had to be corrected,” she repeats.

“Fair enough,” I nod. Time to go for the kill.“Yet, there is one more thing I’m confused with. Amos was an orphan. One that lived 3 hours away from this county, so who told you he was being a nuisance?” 

If this woman had eyes, I know she’d have a look that could kill. Her eye sockets bend slightly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ms. Thomas. We have an assembly soon that I must attend.” 

“Of course, Headmaster.” I say as I start packing up my stuff. I walk to the door, feeling her cavernous holes in my back. I go to pull the door open, but then I stop. “One last question,” I say. She looks up at me, “Who reported him missing?”

Bingo. Question answered.

The smile she gave was cruel and mouthy, “Some questions needn’t be answered. Have a good day, Isley.”

I walk out the door and head back to my car. 

/// 

When I arrived back at my car after successfully getting my pens back, I scrutinized the building. Being in there fucked with my mental state. Something was off about the place and I wanted to know more. My phone starts buzzing. It’s Phoebe so I click answer.

“You bitch! I can’t believe you,” Phoebe’s voice screeches through my receiver. 

“That’s one way to talk to your boss,” I deadpan.

“Boss or not, you’re literally the worst person I know.”

I scrunch my nose at her insult, “Let’s say hypothetically that is true, what exactly did I do to deserve such a title?” 

“Beside be a size 10 in shoes when I’m an 8?” I roll my eyes, “You also never mentioned that THE Bruce fucking Wayne of Wayne Corporation invited us to a fundraiser in Gotham City.” 

I sit there listening to her, “How’d you know about that?”

“I was going through your emails and there’s an invite. Also, pause, you knew?” she huffs.

I shrug even though she can’t see me, “It’s just a Wayne Event. It’s not a big deal. I didn’t even know it was a fundraiser.”

“Yeah, he’s going to try and get the Gotham socialites and old heads to give money for a-,” she stops talking and there’s some slight shuffling in the backgorund, “Ah! A metahuman trafficking recovery center. It would be an extension of Arkham Asylum.”

I feel my heartbeat get 10 times louder, “Pheebs, I need to call you later. I’m still here at Cork County Middle and I need to finish some paper work before I drive back tonight.”

I don’t wait for her to say goodbye before I hang up. I start dialing Bruce’s number. 

///

One. Two. One. Two. Jab. Hook, hook.

“God fucking damnit,” Jason exclaims. 

“The fight not going well?” I ask.

“Bruce. Manny Herechio has to win tonight.” Jason starts.

“Has?” I interject. 

He rambles over me, “HAS. I have so much money on this fight. Like, my future children’s money kind of money!”

I shoot him an amused look from my book. “I’m sure he’ll pull it out. Underdogs have a weird way of doing that.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD. HE DID IT! HE FUCKING DID IT MAN,” Jason shakes me. 

I smile at him, happy that he’s happy, but then the scene changes. I’m now Batman and I’m holding Jason. He’s barely breathing and there’s so much blood. “You did this. You did this to me.” He breathes out angrily. 

“Jay, what? No, I didn’t! What do you mean?” I explain.

“You, the fucking Batman of all people, should have saved me. I’m dead because of you!” He’s now yelling at me. 

I feel the panic flutter throughout me. I should’ve saved him. It should’ve been me. 

The clatter of my phone hitting the floor shakes me out of my daydream hard. Less of a dream, more like a nightmare. The phone goes off again and I grab it from the floor. Isley Thomas flashes across the screen. I press accept. 

“Isley? Hello?” 

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” she seethes through the phone. 

I pull it away from me. “I can’t catch a fucking break today,” I grunt out. I put the phone back near my ear, “It’s possible I have, but depends on what this reason is,” I joke. 

“This event, party you’re throwing is for the business proposal that was between us privately. What the hell, Bruce?” 

I can tell she’s upset at what I tried to make a surprise. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” 

“A fucking surprise? For why?” she all but yells into the receiver. 

“I presented it to the board,” I didn’t. “And they didn’t like the idea of Wayne Enterprises being the face of metahuman trafficking support centers,” I explain. “Having a fundraiser will show that people, specifically people with money, are interested in defeating the metahuman trafficking.”

I can hear her breathing. “You could’ve just told me that the board rejected it,” she pauses, “I would’ve dealt with it.”

She’s not incorrect. However, I needed a win for today, “You told me that this was Staya’s dream. I just wanted to do everything I could to try and make it come true.”

She doesn’t reply anything. For a second there I think that she’s just hung up on me. “Okay. Next time, let me know ahead of time, please, Bruce,” is all she says. Then she adds, “I have to work. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

I hear the click of call ending and put the phone down. I bury my face in my hands. I walk to my door and walk to Sonya’s desk. She looks at me with a smile, “Mr. Wayne! What can I do for you?”

“Sonya, I’ll be unavailable for the rest of the day. See that the fundraiser details get figured out. I want to no hiccups, understood?” She nods, typing furiously. I continue, “Perfect. Thank you.”

I walk to the elevator and press floor one. I lay against wall in sheer exhaustion. Between my guilt from Jason and my repressed feelings about Isley, I needed to punch something. 

/// 

I took another sip of my coffee and continued typing on my computer. I was trying to find information about Cork County. “With the way you’re hunch over your computer, we’ll have to get massages before heading to Gotham,” Phoebe said pointedly. 

I roll my eyes, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Fair enough. Enough investigating today boss lady. If we want to make it to Gotham in a decent hour and avoid traffic, we need to go,” Phoebe insists as she shuts my computer. 

“I made us a reservation at some fancy hotel. It offered nails too, what a deal. And, ooh, our dresses were delivered!”

“I thought we were going dress shopping today?” I say scrunching my nose at the implication of Phoebe picking out a dress for me. 

“Oh no you don’t. We were yesterday at 4, but someone,” she squints at me, “was a bit forgetful.”

I inhale, “Okay, that’s my bad. I’m sorry, this case just keeps making new turns every second. I feel like I’m drowning.”

“Well, tonight, no missing children to worry about.” 

I nod and smile at her. If only it was that easy. 

///

“Master Bruce, people will be arriving in less than 30 minutes, what on Earth are you doing?” I heard Alfred call for me while I was in the Batcave. 

I kicked the bag again. Focus. I kick again. 

“Master Bruce?” I hear Alfred again. I shake my head. Focus, Bruce. I kick the bag again. The chain breaks and bag flies across the room. 

“That is the 8th bag you’ve broken this week, Master Bruce.”

I exhale deeply. “It’s unimportant.”

“Perhaps to the ghosts of this cave, but not you. Never mind all that. You must shower and get dressed immediately,” Alfred says pushing me quickly towards the stairs.

“Can I at least take the elevator if speed is what we’re going for?” I grumble. 

“That privilege was lost once you made me trundle down those godforsaken steps and come get you!” I trudge up the stairs his insistent demands. 

When we arrive at the top, “Mr. Maurice, sorry to keep you waiting, Master Bruce is insolent when it comes to other’s time and efforts,”

I shoot Alfred a dirty look at his insults. He simply flicks his hand and I’m being taken by the tailor. Who starts showing me different fabrics and colors for tonight’s event. “What do you feel tonight Mr. Wayne? Navy or Black? I have grey also, but it has not been a fan favorite for the year.” Maurice explains quickly. 

I look at the colors. The black always speaks to me, but tonight was different. Because Isley will be there. I ignore my thoughts, “Let’s take a walk on the wild side, shall we?” 

“My thoughts exactly, Mr. Wayne!” 

I go to hop into the shower and prepare myself for tonight. 

///

I can hear the people downstairs. Drinks are flowing and soon enough the cash will be too. I hear my door open. “Only man I’ve ever known to be fashionably late at his own home.” It’s Dick. “Also, I don’t know what the fuck those little sausage balls are made with, but they are delicious. Woah-”

I turn and look at him, his mouth is wide open with the same bits sausage hanging in his mouth, “What? Also, please close your mouth.”

“This suit...who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Dick jokes.

I just grunt and turn back around fixing my tie. I hear Dick’s laughter stop, “Okay, I’m sorry, here let me help with your tie. It’s more crooked than Cobblepot’s teeth.”

He fixes my tie and I can’t help but think about Jason. Dick searches my face, “You been thinking about him?”

I turn back to look in the mirror to inspect the knot he made. It answers his question. I know he wants to say something, he just doesn’t know what. No one ever does. “Master Bruce, Mr. Grayson.” Alfred’s voice turns us both around. “Almost all the guest are here. It is time to make an appearance.”

“Well, thank god I didn’t throw the party. I’m gonna find some pretty ladies and some more of the sausage balls.” Dick chippers happily and leaves this room. 

Alfred turns to do the same, but not before saying, “Mr. Todd is a great man. Just because you’re choosing to move on, doesn’t mean you’re forgetting him.”

“Don’t you mean was?” I ask.

“No. I meant is. What’s that saying you always tell the board members when you’re not present? Oh, yes, physicality is not the only way to be present.” With that Alfred mules out of the room.

I follow after him. I make it down the stairs, “Man of the hour. Mr. Bruce Wayne.” I hear some rich old guy yell at me. He grabs my hand and shakes it furiously. 

I do this for about an hour before I clink my glass and everyone quiets down. “I want to thank you all for being here,” I start, “Tonight was a bit last minute, but I am so glad to have the ability to host such things that bring us together. Tonight is about us expanding Arkham Asylum to host those affected by metahuman trafficking. Donations, as always, are tax deductable and can be written to the Wayne Corporation. Again, we are going to make a difference.” I raise my glass and every one claps. “But please, keep enjoying the booze, gives me an excuse to buy more!” I add with laughter. 

I make my way through the crowd towards one of the balconies. There’s just a woman out there. “What a speech,” she says as she comes out the shadows. 

It’s Isley, but she looked...beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it. Her hair is  straight rather than its usually curls. She has on a silk baby blue dress that ends at her mid thigh. Her dark eyes are blown wide with the chill air and small goosebumps litter her dark brown skin. “Isley,” I breathe out, “Thought you bailed on me.”

She turns her head like a curious cat, “Me? A flake? Never.” she says with fake ingenuity. “Although, I was very late. Phoebe loves to take her time with me.”

My eyes scan her face, “Well, she did an amazing job.” I compliment.

A smile grows on her face, “Why thank you, Mr. Wayne. You clean up nicely yourself. A navy blue suit? How daring.”

“Dick already made fun of me for it, I thought it was time to step out a bit.” 

She steps close enough to grab one of the lapels. “Dick? Also, it reminds me of prom. Senior year,” she whispers. 

I grab her wrists, we’re extremely close now. “Well, look who I found hiding in the shado- oh?” 

It’s Dick, again. I breathe out slowly, “Dick, meet an old friend. Isley Thomas.”

#babyblackbird writes #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x poc #batman x you #batman #batman x ofc

[unbelievableholland]

100 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION PROMPTS:

A/N: It is finally hereee. Sorry if it's a bit late, I'm like, at 117 followers now AND I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT. Thank y'all so much for supporting me and reading my fics❤️❤️❤️ OH, and sorry if the prompts aren't that great, I'm still not used to writing prompts but, I really tried my best because I want this celebration to be good.

And for the requests that I have YET TO FINISH, I apologize again because I don't have great time management. I'll be working on the requests in order as well. Let's just hope school doesn't get in the way of this one😂 send in requests as much as you can guys! I love your ideas so much and it keeps me motivated to get through school so I can continue to write my heart out😂❤️

I'll be extending the time limit to this by the for a month because why not😂

I'll be accepting requests from this prompt list within this period of time:

February 14, 2020 — March 14, 2020

A N G S T :

1. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay”

2. “You said you’d never leave me, so why are you walking away?”

3. “You promised! You promised me that you’ll stay!”

4. “That’s exactly the thing y/n, I loved you”

5. “Where were you!? I’ve been waiting for 5 goddamn hours!”

6. “I am really sorry, darling.”— “It’s ok. I’ll be here I guess.”

7. “I know I promised, but—”— “It’s fine. Just know that I’ll always be here for you.”

8. “You idiot! Why did you keep this from me!?”

9. “Cut the crap, I know you’re hurt!”

10. “You don’t have to pretend, I know you pretend every goddamn day. You’re hurting yourself, you’re hurting me.”

11. “Before I leave, I have one more request.”— “What?! After all of this, what else could you possibly want out of me?!”— “Be happy. Move on. Please, look after yourself.”

12. “You told me you loved me, did you tell her that to?!”

13. “You know you don’t have to hide anything from me, so please tell me why there are cuts on your arm”

14. “How stupid could you be to think that you could handle that yourself?!”

15. “I wanted to see you, but not like this. Never like this.”

16. “Am I really that bad?”

17. “You’ve walked away so many times but I took you back! This is too much. I’m so sorry but it’s my turn to leave.”

18. “Don’t please I—”— “You have to let go sweetheart. You know you’ll have to eventually.”

19. “So, what, you’re just giving up on me? On us??”

20. “What happened?”— “It’s like— I-It’s like I forgot how to love you”

21. “Don’t force it, please. You already know that it’ll end like this even if we try again.”

22. “I don’t owe you anything. I don’t owe you a fucking thing”

23. “Everyone thinks she’s not the one, but she I think she’s damn near close to that if she isn’t. I know I can’t risk losing her.”

24. “Just know that I’d go to the moon and back just to get the chance to love you again.”

25. “Stop— Stop! Please, stop you’re hurting yourself!”

26. “I don’t deserve you. I never did, and I never got how you can love me the way you do now.”

27. “I realized how easy it is to live without you”

28. “I-I could’ve left but I didn’t”— “but you should’ve”

29. “You caught me, but you let me go”

30. “Go. Go to them. You always do anyway”

31. “I should’ve left when I had the chance.”

32. “You know, people warned me. Warned me about you.”— “What did they say?” “That you’d end up breaking my heart. I should’ve listened to them.”

33. “I—I think I broke her.”

34. “H-hey, it’s me. Y-you remember me, r-right?”

35. “You want to know the worst part, hmm?”— “I—”—”It’s been 5 fucking years and I still love you”

36. “Please let me explain!”— “I think you explained well enough last time. I understand, you love her, not me”

37. “I trusted you!”— “And I trusted myself enough not to hurt you, but I still did”

38. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to me!”

39. “You know what they say…cut off one head, two more shall take it’s place.”

40. “Am I not enough for you??”— “You were”

41. “You told me you were over her”— “I lied”

42. “Making you fall in love with me was never my intention”

43. “You let me down when I thought I finally had someone to build me back up.”

44. “”Hey— hey baby? Come on, keep your eyes open for m-me. You can d-do this, b-babe— look a-at m— look at me! Y-you can do this, alright?”

45. “I’m fine, really. I always knew that he wasn’t the one. I guess you can say he’s just my almost”

46. “You could’ve died!”— “I did! I died the moment I saw him snap his fingers!”

47. “I’m sorry! I know I should’ve been better—” — “but you weren’t. You could’ve been but you weren’t!”

48. “H-Hey Pete. I just wanted to call you to say sorry. I know you’ve moved on, but I haven’t. I don’t know how long I have, but I wanted to tell you that, please, take care of dad, take care of yourself and take care of MJ. My life has been a wreck, but it was way better with you in it. When I lost you, I lost myself, and I’m sorry for that. I should’ve just been happy for you. God, I hope you don’t delete this voicemail.”

49. “He won’t be back! He’s dead and all you can do is accept it!”— “No! He’s not dead, he can’t be! He told me he’d come home, he promised me he’d be back!”

50. “It’s my fault, this is my fault. You’re not safe here, just— just leave. I don’t want to hurt you.”

F L U F F

51. “Never, in my life, have I felt so much love for one person.”

52. “Don’t worry, love. I’m here, and I never plan on leaving”

53.“Stop! Tickling me won’t work!”— “I doubt that, love. I can do this all day”

54. “My heart belongs to you, my London boy.”

55. “Don’t tempt me, babe”— “What? I’m not tempting you to do anything”— “Yes, yes you are. Everyday, just looking at you makes me want to love you even more than I already do, which—quite frankly— I didn’t think was possible.”

56. “W-will you go on a d-date with m-me?”— “Only if you kiss me again”

57. “Is that my hoodie?”— “uhhhhm, no?”

58. “Where were you?! I called so many times!”— “Yeah, but my phone died. I was at work. Why’d you call so many times though? I told you I was working today.”— “I remembered that I forgot to tell you that I love you before you left”

59. “C’mon, time to get up.”— “Noooo. I wanna cuddle some mooreee”

60. “You’re not sick anymore. Now can I kiss you?”

61. “I love you”— “No, you love Taylor Swift.”— “Shhh, you’re ruining the moment”

62. “Move. I want to cuddle”

63. “You’re an idiot.”— “Your idiot.”

64. “I know you’re only here for Tessa.”— “I mean, yeah, but playing with Tessa isn’t the same without you.”

65. “Can you do me a favor and NOT break your nose for once?”— “Sure, but only if you kiss it better.”— “Ew Tom, no. It’s all bruised and bloody.”

66. “I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.”— “Oh really? And why is that?”— “Because now, you’re here to light up my world.”

67. “You look cute when you’re mad. You’re like a cute little bunny with a frown”

68. “Oh come here. I know you can’t resist me.”

69. “I’ll go to sleep only if you sing to me first.”

70. “Will you be MJ to my Peter Parker?”

71. “Hey, can you take Tessa for a walk?”— “Yeah sure, but I thought you wanted to walk her?”— “I never said I wasn’t”

72. “I’d dance with you around the stars if I could”

73. “It’s a prank! It’s a prank, it’s a prank”

74. “Can you stop checking me out and actually try to clean the house?”

75. “Here, close your eyes and take my hand. Do you trust me?”— “No.”— “Oh come one, you don’t mean that.”— “Yeah you’re right, I don’t”

76. “I won’t be able to take you seriously if you keep wearing my cloths. Looks too good on you.”

77. “Let me go, I have work.”— “Not until I get my good morning kiss”— “Gross. You have morning breath.”

78. “You’re such a dork, but I guess that’s why I fell in love with you in the first place.”

79. “Don’t pout. That’s cheating because you know I can’t resist you when you pout”

80. “You? Ugly? Impossible.”

81. “I can’t think of anything other than you that can make me this happy.”

82. “NO! Don’t open your eyes!”— “Wha— Why??”— “Because then it won’t be a surprise, duhh!”

83. “Have you ever stopped to think, that maybe in another universe, we’re with other people? Maybe we don’t even know each other or—”— “You have to stop watching those documentaries, babe. Anyway, I don’t think I could ever be with anyone other than you. Even in another universe.”

84. “I hate you.”— “No, I know you love me.”— “I do, and I hate you for it”

85. “One day, I’m going to propose and you’ll say yes. It’s going to be the best day ever.”— “Yeah. It definitely will be.”— “And with that, Y/N L/N, will you make today the happiest day of our lives?”

86. “I like it when you’re sick”— “Hey!”— “It gives me more reason to take care of you.”

87. “So, there’s this house party RDJ’s hosting. Wanna be my date?”

88. “Awwww, I never realized how cute you are when you sneeze!”

89. “Hey, uh, we have thin walls here and I uh, I heard barking so I figured you have a dog. Is it alright if I play with them for a bit? I love dogs i-if you can’t already tell.”

90. “We could be soulmates you know.”— “I know, and I don’t mind one bit.”

91. “I really want to kiss you right now.”— “Kiss me then”

92. “You’re such an ass.”— “I know right. Been doing a lot of squats lately.”

93. “Ugh, it’s still too early. Wake me up later.”— “Too ea— it’s 4pm!”

94. “I love you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t laugh at you when you do something stupid”

95. “Get a life, you dummy.”— “I already have one. You.”

96. “Do you want to sed something beautiful?”— “I’m already looking at her.”

97. “It’s hard to think when I’m drunk.”— “That’s why you have me, sweetheart.”

98. “I did this for you, you know. I got drunk so I could be confident enough to tell you how I actually feel about you.”

99. “Don’t believe anything they say. I love you, and only you.”

100. “I missed you! But probably not as much as baby Holland did.”— “Excuse me, baby who now???”

#writing prompt #ask prompt #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland soulmate au #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fandom #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x sister reader #tom holland x sister!reader #peter parker x sister!reader #peter parker x stark!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x stark!reader #harry holland x you #harry holland x sister!reader #sam holland x sister!reader #tom holland x reader