#just wary and avoidant of him. only mean when he's desperate or thinks he's gonna be made fun of

[qoldenskies]

what is it with leo that villian donnie sees him as his bully compared to raph and mikey? like is it just leo being #leo + donnie not understanding the teasing that was an effect of the hero/villain dynamic, or was it some Specific Thing leo did/does?

leo gets the most personal, generally, so it is just leo being #Leo. raph's more focused on what donnie's doing than anything else-- which is usually crime. and mikey's a lot nicer just because he finds donnie interesting, and is eventually interested in connecting to him as a family member. he can be mean to villains, but with donnie in particular he finds his tech interesting so he's more open to him!! he doesnt hold back in combat though lol

leo aims for where it hurts. he makes fun of the way he dresses, the way he talks, anything he can to fluster and rile him up because it makes him sloppy. he rubs salt in the wound when they defeat him. he'll push donnie to the point of flying into a rage and then laugh at him for acting so embarrassing and being thin-skinned. he'll joke around with the others too about him sometimes, even to the point where it feels like they're not listening to donnie's rehearsed villain speeches he was SO EXCITED TO UNVEIL and it really flusters and upsets him. its mean, but donnie's blowing shit up, i think they've moved past that lmao.

and donnie... kind of sees leo as, like,,, cool? he seems to know what he's doing, at least when it comes to how he socializes. maybe he doesnt look up to him just yet, but he does quietly want his approval and sees him as kind of the model example of what a cool person would be. so when leo criticizes him, he takes it very personally. it means he's doing something wrong.

like if he wants to be anything, it's to be cool. to be likeable and popular. especially once he starts branching out and meeting other people willing to give him a chance, he's stumbling over himself trying to play himself up and seem worth putting up with. but leo's words are a cutting reminder that he doesn't even know what acceptance looks like, and he'll never fit in anywhere, even with the only people exactly like him, and he cries himself to sleep every other night about it.

[yuurei20]

Jade and Floyd Info Compilation part 19: Riddle and Jade

While particularly wary of Floyd, Riddle says that he has been baffled by both twins since their first year.

Riddle says that he considers Jade to be “the reasonable one of the two,” but Jade also teases Riddle: on the topic of bobbing for apples Jade said he “would desperately love to see (Riddle) flailing around trying to catch an apple in (his) mouth. Now that would be quite a spectacle indeed.”

(Riddle responds, “What exactly are you trying to say?”)

Jade also compliments Riddle on coming up with a “bold and intriguing gambit” during Spectral Soiree but Ruggie observes, “You’re just agreeing for the laughs and you know it, Jade.”

(In a vignette Jade comments that Ruggie is more kindhearted than he appears, as he had assumed that he was “the sort to only put in effort if it somehow benefited you in the end.” Ruggie responds, “I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”)

During Spectral Soiree Jade shares a story from his first year with Ortho and Ruggie about a time that Riddle ran around a table in Octavinelle’s lounge for six hours in order to dry off after getting caught in a downpour.

Jade explains, “Floyd tried to capture it on video, even though he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. He must have been highly impressed.”

Jade proceeds to recreate the “nigh-incomprehensible song about spinning and twirling” while running around for Ruggie and Ortho, leading Riddle to realize what story he is telling.

Riddle is displeased with Jade relating an incident that he didn’t want discussed (“Have you no heart?!”) but Riddle’s embarrassment comes from his failure to prepare for the rain, not from the hours he spent running in circles and singing.

Realizing this, Jade says that he will be certain to inform Azul and Floyd when they are back at school as they will be besides themselves with admiration.

Riddle responds, “By all means, do. That Queen of Hearts’ teachings are beneficial to ALL students, not just those in Heartslabyul.”

Jade says that while he considers Riddle to be meticulous and he respects Riddle as a classmate, he does not know what Riddle thinks of him in return.

In a vignette Riddle explains that he is in the same class as Jade and he is as wary of him as he is of Floyd, while also saying that the two twins are complete opposites.

It seems that Riddle tries to avoid Jade when he is with Floyd, and he will go to Jade to ask him to keep Floyd away. (“Just thinking about Floyd irritates me.”)

In another vignette we see Jade accompany Riddle to the nurse’s office when he becomes sick, and Riddle compliments him on his hard work during Halloween, even encouraging him to take a break. (Jade: “How fortunate I am to have such considerate classmates.”)

In his third birthday vignette Jade says that, in place of a gift, Riddle offered to teach him something that he doesn’t know.

During Spectral Soiree we learn that, back in their first year, Jade taught Riddle how to tell him apart from Floyd by confirming whether or not his black highlight of hair forms a “J” from the viewer’s perspective. (Jade: “Floyd and I have many differences—eye color, the angle of our eyebrows, the thickness of our earlobes…”)

When Trey misconstrues Jade’s position in Octavinelle, Riddle explains, “(Jade) and Azul are always plotting something. And at times, Jade is the one at the wheel! At first glance, it may seem as though Jade only follows Azul and Floyd’s lead, but that is a grave misunderstanding. He has a grand old time making use of them too, on occasion.”

When asked what NRC student Riddle would want as a sibling Riddle answers he would want Jade as a younger brother, as he acts properly in class, speaks politely and he has never seen Jade bother any of their teachers.

Riddle says if he were in an older brother position to Jade he could be a good example as to how Jade should act.

[sumeruispiss]

Hi do you have any Headcannons for Tignari Cyno or Sethos? These three are so dry in HC and i want some especially sethos he seems cute

mmmm yes the short men we love to see it- ofc! I got lots for Tighnari and Cyno, but I haven’t really gotten to Sethos yet in lore

that doesn’t mean I don’t have a few for him thooooo!

—

TIGHNARI

He’s a pretty lanky guy, I imagine he’s got a small bladder which can get annoying

He drinks water a lot to combat dehydration- smart to help with his health, dumb when his bladder is the size of a thimble.

so he ends up having to go a lot more. And I mean a LOT more. Often at inconvenient times, too.

Normally, he’ll listen to his body because Tighnari takes his body signals seriously and knows when to stop- but sometimes he gets in situations where he can’t stop and go piss against a tree

Like when he’s clearing a withering zone. And there happen to be way too many damn hydro slimes around. Recipee (haha get it like recipe Tighnari don’t stab me plz) for disaster.

his tail is very reactive to his mood and desperation is no different. When he needs to go, his tail will NOT stop jerking around. He’s a very squirmy guy.

His pants are baggy. Not good for hiding accidents- which he doesn’t have frequently, but sometimes he’ll come back from patrol looking like he jumped in a lake to avoid further questioning.

—

CYNO

“Desperate? No. This man is the General Mahamatra. The most feared individual among hundreds of strong warriors and-”

that’s what any one of Cyno’s coworkers and subordinates would say if an ordinary citizen caught onto the fact that Cyno needed a bathroom at any given point.

He’s got a pretty strong resistance to desperation- I mean, the man has an intense poker face. If he’s able to keep that up while in the face of intense danger then he’s certainly able to keep it up while needing a piss so badly that he can barely think straight.

around his friends, he probably wouldn’t care about if they knew. He’d just admit it pretty quickly and be done with it. But around strangers?? Oh no no no. Not in a million years.

it’s better in the desert. Nobody’s around for miles. Often no water, too, but that’s fine. He’ll just piss wherever he wants in the desert and that’s the end of that.

one time, he was about to do just that but he found some eremites robbing a merchant so he really couldn’t. Apprehended them and started escorting them back to Caravan Ribet, but the eremites caught on and eventually tripped Cyno up so much that he wet himself.

luckily his shorts are SHORT (iirc) so it’s not gonna be visible, and who would believe the criminals? His pride is severely damaged, though. He’s unable to make puns for a solid week (which genuinely confuses all his friends.)

—

SETHOS

I took one look at this man and said ‘bedwetter’

no explanation just that man is 100% waking up to wet sheets or whatever he sleeps on in the temple of silence

Probably not used to Sumeru city’s indoor plumbing system and is a little bit wary of that so when he visits bothers the Hat Guy, he’ll put off using it until he physically can’t anymore.

and by physically can’t anymore I mean he just won’t be able to move. By then it’s too late and he’s just internally dying inside because he’s so far away from all of his changes of clothes and also Hat Guy is just staring at him with what can only be interpreted as disgust. —

Wish I had a few more for Sethos but again didn’t have a lot :(

thanks for the request!!!

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Whomst’s Predictions for Ep 7 of Only Friends: SandRay Edition (spoilers)

Focusing on the “Rockstar and DisasterKitten” pairing here, because 1.) I’m wary of Boston and Nick’s never ending competition to be the bigger creep, 2.) the lesbians will overcome because they’re lesbians and we are capable of anything, and 3.) I am DYING for Mew’s villain era to take off next episode, so folks…it’s time for me to Overthink about SandRay.

Episode 6…Welp. Ray has hit rock bottom. I’ve been thinking from the start that this might need to happen, that Ray has been going through the motions of life while hurting himself and others for so long, it’s painful and unsustainable and he needs to face the music (IF ONLY HE KNEW A MUSICIAN OR SOMETHING FFS).

And it’s not just him that will benefit! His friend group is already splintered and becoming toxic—as Ray is one of the core members most invested and loyal to it, he is going to need to get his act together if their friend group is gonna survive and evolve to something healthy.

(Side note that while I love, love, LOVE, Mew’s little plot to confront Top about his infidelity alone, which he did in the most unhinged way possible—good for him—I’m also not crazy about Mew deciding to let his least-stable friend be seen as the bad guy by all their friends in the name of this scheme, and I hope he fixes that)

So. While I didn’t want to see Ray hurt, I think it was inevitable (to some degree) that for a big change to happen, he was going to need a wakeup call of sorts. Ray being Ray means this wakeup call would be as a result of his self-destructiveness. But I think this is what is going to turn things around—what I’m seeing in the trailer for the next episode already points to a Ray who is quieter, maybe more thoughtful, passing time with both Sand and his friends.

And as for Sand…sweet baby sunRay’s been barely avoiding havoc for years, and now the worst has happened—friendships ruined (he thinks), love interest pushed away, himself as the perceived cause of it all—so where does Ray go from here? Who sticks around when the chips are down?

AHEM. WE ALREADY KNOW WHO.

The guy who knows Ray’s bullshit and has seen and experienced the worst he can dish out, this is the guy who sees that sopping wet stray kitten in the alley and is like, you know what? I’m feeding him and giving him a bath.

I think we can all agree that Sand is one of the standout characters on this show by virtue of being done with everyone’s shit, but in episode 6, we saw him (along with everyone else) pushed to the limit of good/remotely sane decisions. Sand also needs to recognize that constant mini-dates, meeting his mom, deep emotional conversations and passionate sex have maybe caused them both to grow feelings. Oops.

And that’s why I’m a little worried.

Despite Sand’s maturity, boundaries, and self-care, we can see that he is only human and capable of falling into the same messes as other people. The big difference is that unlike literally everyone else, he holds himself accountable for things and takes responsibility for his impact on other people. And in episode 6, it was his decision to get the clip of Top and Boston, send it to Ray and tell him about his ex and Top, all while trying to maintain an air of distance, that constant refrain of “I don’t care what you do, it’s not like we’re together” in the aftermath of Boyfriend Activities.

The last part I kinda get—what a shitty birthday for Ray, realizing the guy you are falling for, who you maybe thought was developing feelings for you, has nursed feelings for someone else, and you feel too proud and scared and hurt to try to talk through it.

But it’s Sand giving Ray that info about Top that directly precipitates the disaster at Mew’s birthday party—following that, Ray hurls horrible insults at Sand in some desperate attempt to figure out what they are to each other (will Sand stay? will he give up on Ray and leave him? Ray is painfully vulnerable in his anger and confusion here) and drives off, clearly drunk. And yes, it’s Ray’s decision to get drunk and make an absolute mess before storming off into a dangerous situation (which he needs to hold himself accountable for), but Sand isn’t like Ray’s other friends and he feels responsible for Ray, even if he isn’t. So knowing that something bad happens to Ray after all of that mess—I think Sand is going to feel guilty.

For a guy as responsible and mature as Sand, stealing/sending that video and using Ray as the intermediary (regardless of intentions) was a low point for him, and I think he’s going to feel guilt for feeding into Ray’s self-destructive habits. This whole time, he’s managed to keep his hands clean of the Drama, but he decided to engage this time for the sake of revenge and it has collapsed spectacularly, with (he thinks) Mew staying with Top and Ray being the one to get hurt.

My prediction for next episode is that Ray will start getting his shit together—relying on his friends for real talk and support instead of drunken superficial reassurance, hopefully dialing back the substance abuse, taking a look in the mirror and making changes without hating himself. They need to TALK. Without alcohol or pride or insecurity clouding their speech.

So while Ray has hit rock bottom, Sand has to reassess things, too—in the trailer we see him caring for the injured Ray, because kiddo cannot stay away, “oh Ray’s the one addicted to me” uhhuh sweetie keep telling yourself that—and I think it’s time they get on the same page. I think they have the potential to be incredibly good for each other, they just need the chance to be honest and stop hiding.

UGH WHY ISNT IT THE 23RD NOWWW

[grasshopperdoingdogpaddle]

One thing I really miss from Season 1 Jack was just how snarky he was. Sure he was a Bit of a coward as a character flaw, but he had some Bite to him that made him feel like a credible villain, even if a mostly ineffectual one. Instead of being a flat out Cowardly Mama's Boy, he sassed off about his parents always doing Dumb Parents things and throwing wild parties, snarked back at Wuya, and had an attitude beyond occasionally smarmy coward. Which would be fine if you were to develop him out of that and use that lessening of seeming threat level by making him maybe doubt his clinging to the side of evil and migrate towards good or even just neutrality. But instead it kind of feels like the narrative expects us to simultaneously believe he's both a villain with potential to have his own Evil Overlord Jack timeline and also that he's a simpering coward who's perfectly fine acting like a total stooge to other, bigger baddies.

Yeah, season 1 established Jack as a much more... human character. 

He's an antisocial rich kid who's desperate for the acknowledgement of others, but also actively acts abrasively to keep them at arm's length. He's a genius in robotics and knows how smart he is. He's snarky and cocky, he knows what he wants and feels entitled to the whole world's praises, and if conquest is what it takes to show off what he has, he'll happily do it, because it means less social interaction he has to awkwardly work through.

In fact, he's prone to self-sabotaging or bristling in response to positive social situations, is avoidant of things like parties but still wants to be talked about positively, and automatically meets even polite greetings with snarkiness.

Oh yeah! Can I strut now?

First order of business when I rule the world: vaporize all mimes.

Nice place you have here, Clay, too bad about the sudden change in weather.

Oh, I'm leaving alright, and you're coming with me! (Oh really, who's gonna make me?) You are. Kimiko, meet Kimiko. Or should I say, meet your match.

(No hands.) Yeah. And no game.

You fully get why the monks are wary and unfond of him. He was a smarmy threat and he actively mocks and belittles them unpleasantly. He insults their intelligence and appearance, steals from them and actively tries to kill them, is occasionally creepy towards Kimiko. And he gets pretty frequent W's or near wins, so his threats were not empty threats. It's very clear why there's mutual bad blood.

And then there’s the thing with his parents. He didn't have a very strong negative or positive reaction to his father sending him the puzzlebox, so it's evidently not unusual to get gifts like that from his parents. He’s neither surprised nor completely uninterested. Then, he says it's lame and throws it away when he solves it. 

A sort of distant relationship from an antisocial teenager trying to come into his own. The only parental figure’s gift he seemed immediately impressed and sentimental about was the helibot his villainous grandmother gave him. Otherwise, he’s not particularly desperate for presents from them.

Like the scene you mention, where he insults his parent's boring parties.

Jack: Standard for my folk's parties. Snobfest a-go-go. Ashley: So, are you Jack? the kid they're all talking about upstairs? Jack: (Perking up hopefully) They're talking about me?! Are they calling me a genius?! Ashley: More like "weirdo" Jack: WHAT'S SO WEIRD ABOUT ME?!

He thinks his parents are lame and throw lame parties. He avoids parties because he’s antisocial and doesn’t do as well with people as he does with machines, but it makes him happy to know that they might all be talking about how smart he is up there. And when he hears that they’re insulting him, he doesn’t simper or shrink, he throws a furious tantrum and lashes out.

It’s a far cry from the Mama's boy who "has panic attacks when he's away from his mama for more then one day".

The later seasons feel off because he's more of a simpering lackey and doesn't even pull off any smug attitudes or land any biting insults anymore, he just... shrinks back and cries. Makes the encounters with the monks feel painfully one-sided.

Even entirely separate from the villain decay that all the Heylin character underwent and the massive flanderization almost all the characters had in season 3 to undermine their previous growth, Jack just feels like a different character.

He was always immature in a way that was well communicated, but by the end of the series, it's less "edgy teenager rebellion" and more "uncomfortably infantilized by the narrative".

He was always cowardly and cocksure with an Napoleon complex. Always the type who’s taunt an angry dog while it’s leashed only to scream and run when it broke its chain, but at some point he’s very much just a recurring joke about how pitiful he is. But the type of cowardice changes into something less teenager-who-thinks-he-can-take-over-the-world and more shrinking-violet. He’s very woobified.

And it’s sad, because for a while there was a nice opening for places where he could have gone. He had an episode where he acknowledged that he’s only evil is out of fear of failure and an internal logic that evil is sure to lose anyway so it doesn’t matter if he fails or not.

Jack could have either cemented his desire to have a reason for being on the Heylin side that’s not just that desperate fear, or he could have made the step to the Xiaolin side that every finale teases.

Ultimately they didn’t go either direction though. Like you said, he sort of ends up as just “a simpering coward who's perfectly fine acting like a total stooge to other, bigger baddies.” Especially in his ping-ponging relationship with Hannibal Bean, where he’s either trembling and begging Bean to leave him alone, or groveling unquestioningly at Bean’s brilliant evil plans before walking directly into being betrayed.

[milliedazzledust]

War Rages On: part 3 (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Words: 2451

A/N: if you don’t want to cry, word of advice, don’t listen to anything remotely sad. I literally have 3 potential endings to this story, don’t know which one I’ll choose. Part 4 will have a lot more action and part 5 will probably be the last. Don’t forget to keep tissue close by while reading ;) - enjoy!

Previously: part 1 - part 2

When Bucky walked inside the building he had once lived in, he felt anxious. Not for himself, but for Y/N. During the two hours his ride in the air lasted, he envisioned a thousand possibilities this could play out. He needed her to make it out of there. Whatever he would have to endure, he’d agree to any kind of torture so long as she was safe. He knew he wouldn’t bear to add her name to his already long list of victims. Her only fault had been to fall in love with him. It couldn’t lead her to death, not like this, not because of him. He would never allow Hydra to break the only pieces left of him she had managed to glue back together. 

He knew the place by heart, so finding the cells where they would usually keep all their prisoners was fairly easy. Focused on the task, he was taking slow, measured breaths, watching every step he was making, avoiding the guards and the security cameras. He was silent. A ghost. He stopped at an entrance and sneaked out behind a soldier standing by the door. With a swift motion, he broke his neck and used his badge to access the place. Every movement felt rehearsed, a routine he had done a million times. He was mimicking the Winter Soldier with a perfection that still surprised him. He had almost reached the end of an endless hallway of empty cells when he stopped in his track. 

“Y/N” He whispered. There she was on the dirty floor, laying right in front of him. She wasn’t moving and from the distance, she looked pale. Too pale to be alive. 

“Y/N!” He repeated louder, not caring if anybody could hear him.  

She didn’t answer, didn’t even move an inch. He took a tentative step toward her, afraid of what he would see when he would open the door. He raised his metal arm and grabbed the lock, tearing it apart in a swift motion. The gesture was effortless, the power colossal. He didn’t even blinked, his eyes remaining always on her frail figure. He slowly bent down, trying to ignore the bruises visible through her half-torn shirt and the dried blood everywhere on the floor. He laid a fearful finger on her throat and waited a second. Finally, he released a shaky breath, relieved beyond measure when he felt her heartbeat. She was alive. 

Gently cupping her face, he brushed a hand against her cheek. His heart broke when he saw the shadow of a smile forming on her lips. 

“Bucky” She muttered in contentment.

“Yes, doll. I’m here” 

She didn’t open her eyes but tears slowly coursed their way down her face. Her lips parted and she leaned against his hand, inhaling deeply.

“We have to go, Y/N”

“You feel so real,” She answered. “Why do you feel so real ?”

She sounded upset, but not because of him. She could make out every detail, his scent, his voice, his touch. She wondered what kind of cruel game her subconscious was playing as she let his presence submerge her entirely. He raised his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding that, for her, there was no way he could be there. She had spent the last couple of days picturing him in her mind to ease the pain, to escape the torture. He was the fragment of her imagination keeping her alive. Her last shred of strength. 

“Am I dying ?” She murmured. “Is that why you’re here ?” 

“Y/N, open your eyes” He demanded with force.

“No..”

“C’mon, doll” 

“You’ll disappear. You always do” She sounded broken, on the verge of snapping, but kept them closed.

“I promise I won’t” His voice cracked with every word, overwhelmed by the pain and helplessness when she spoke.

She grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly as she slowly opened her eyes. Her whole body was shaking, afraid the soothing sensation of his skin on hers would be gone and she would only see an empty room once again. It took her a moment to realize he wouldn't disappear and she started sobbing. Her shaky hands cupped his face, wiping his own tears. He gently laid his forehead against hers and she didn’t waste any more time and hugged him. She clung to him, her only safe place, as the battle for the remaining shred of her sanity raged. She tried to catch her breath but it was useless. This was days of emotions bottled up to survive, days of dreaming she could return to him. 

“We’re gonna be okay” He kept saying, holding her tightly.

“Bucky …” She choked in despair. This was the safest she had felt in days. 

“I’m here, doll”

He swallowed and blinked a couple of times, trying to stay strong and not break down. 

“We have to hurry, Y/N” He reminded her after a while. 

His voice seemed to bring her back to reality and she suddenly sat up, ignoring the dizziness and the pain it instantly ignited in her body.

“No, no, no, you have to leave!” She started begging, furiously shaking her head and clenched his shirt in desperation. “You can’t be here! You can’t! Please … Please go ” 

“Y/N…”

“You don’t understand, they … they want you, Bucky. They’re using me to get to you” She put some distance between them and pushed him away when he tried to get closer. “You have to go”

“Not without you” 

“You’re not listening!” She replied, frustrated.

“I am! And I am telling you i’m not leaving without you!” 

He stood up and helped her do the same. She couldn’t hold on her own, too weak and tired. She pressed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and his metal arm circled her waist.

“I’m taking you home” 

“I don’t think so” A voice with a thick accent replied behind him. 

The former assassin cursed under his breath and was quick to react. He pushed Y/N behind him, hiding her wounded body from the intruder. Suddenly on high alert, he stared at the man he once knew, a man hired by Hydra with the sole purpose of creating new super soldiers. He was the brain behind the Winter Soldier program. The Sergeant subconsciously grabbed the woman by her hip, bringing her as close to him as possible.

“Dr.Faustus” He greeted him without sympathy.

“At last we are reunited, soldier”

Bucky clenched his jaw so tight his veins were now visible. In all the time he had spent away from Hydra, he never thought he would come face to face with the doctor ever again. All their encounters had been turned into a distant memory, another one of his nightmares. The Sergeant was unexpectedly conflicted, like two parts of him smashing against each other for the first time, two very different men colliding together without his consent. The broken one felt scared, powerless, becoming once again a victim, while the assassin was already on the lookout, trying to find his way out of there. 

Y/N could feel it. Hidden behind him, she laid her forehead on his back, defeated. His muscles were tensed under the pressure of his emotions and his grip on her hip tightened. She couldn’t contain her terror and silently cried. How could she save him now that they had him back ? What could she do when her body was in no shape to fight ? 

“I wouldn’t advise trying to escape” The man spoke. 

“You know I don’t back down without a fight” Bucky replied, eyeing the three agents surrounding the doctor. They were outnumbered. 

“You might want to reconsider this time” He smirked viciously. 

He made a step toward the couple, moving like a snake reading to suffocate its prey by strengthening its hold around their neck.

“Before you think about taking them down,” Hydra’s doctor began, pointing at the agents next to him “You should know she won’t survive. You see, the girl serves no purpose anymore. She was a mean to an end and she played her part perfectly. She got you right where we wanted you to be, up against a wall”

Bucky gritted his teeth in silent fury. 

“I’m assuming she means a great deal to you, soldat” He sniggered irritatingly. He seemed to enjoy the emotional torture. “Now the real question is, how far are you willing to take this to save her life?”

Bucky looked around him and just felt a rage he couldn’t explain, a will to survive he never had before. Y/N grabbed the hand on her hip, entwining their fingers, and he closed his eyes. For a short instant, he held onto that comforting sensation, the sense of home she could bring to him by the simplest touch. He remembered the day they met, the exact moment he had fallen in love with her and the day they had promised forever to each other. He had a collection of precious memories they had built, engraved in his heart, and each one of them had the power to lessen his pain and lighten the weight on his shoulders. They needed more time to create their magic, to turn the horror they had endured into sparkles of distant memories. More time to live the life she had given back to him. But even more so, he needed her to survive.

“If I surrender myself, what guarantee do I have you’ll let her go ?” He offered. 

“No!” Y/N shouted, trying to move around Bucky. He didn’t have to use much effort to push her back. 

The doctor laughed, pleased his plan was working flawlessly. He turned on his heels and nodded at one of the soldiers next to him. The man took a phone out of his pocket and handed it to the former assassin. 

“What is this ?” Bucky questioned him, ignoring the pleading eyes of the woman begging him to not give in. 

“A message” Dr.Faustus replied. “With coordinates to this place, addressed to your Captain”

“This isn’t enough” 

“Press the button and send it yourself, then” 

Bucky gave him a wary look but took the phone nonetheless.

“I have a condition” He raised his eyes to stare at the man.

“You are in no position to negotiate, soldat”

“If you want me to follow you willingly, you will listen”

He pursed his lips in annoyance.

“Very well”

Bucky glanced back at his girlfriend, barely holding on her legs but still ready to kill him herself for what he was about to do.

“Let me have a moment with her” He pleaded, his voice deep with emotions.

“If you plan to escape …”

“I won’t” He cut him with a promise he would keep. 

He seemed to ponder his options for a moment before he gave a nod, accepting the request. Bucky dropped his head in defeat and pressed the button on the phone screen, sending the message to Steve and praying he would be there soon to get her out of there. 

The doctor turned around, gesturing to the other agents. In less than a minute, the room was empty and they were alone for what would probably be their last moment together. Bucky made a step toward the woman, knowing whatever time they had it would never be enough, but before he could do anything she gathered all the strength she had left and slapped him across the face. 

“I hate you!” She shouted, tears streaming down her face. “I hate you!”

He had expected her anger but her words still hurt him. He couldn’t begin to understand what she was feeling when his own heart was already being torn apart. 

“I had to…”

“Why didn’t you fight ?” She choked. “Why … why did you gave up on us ?”

“I gave up on me!” He told her in a deep voice, quickly closing the distance between them and cupping her face with force. “I’m choosing you over me”

“There is no me without you, Bucky” She muttered

“They don’t know the Winter Soldier is no longer here” He told her, trying to reassure her. “Whatever they have plan for me, it’s not gonna work”

“You don’t know that”

He laid his forehead on hers and a tear on his own rolled down his cheek.

“I know I need you to stay alive. I’ve lived on borrowed time long enough, Y/N, maybe …”

“Don’t you dare!” She cried, pushing him away. She struggled to stay on her feet but she couldn’t seem to care. “I swear to god, Bucky, I will kill you myself if you dare giving up now!”

“Steve is gonna find you and bring you back” He continued.

She shook her head and her eyes grew hot, the tears welling so quickly it was impossible to blink them away.

“Please don’t break my heart” She whispered.

His lips started trembling and he choked on a small but audible sob. Losses after losses, he had shed his own shade of tears, had been broken beyond measure and brought to hell. This was something else. Pain had a sweet taste of horror and self-hatred when it was felt under the power of all his sanity. 

“Let me hold you” He begged her.

Despite her anger, she didn’t waste any time and sank her face into his chest, letting him comfort both of them. He kept her close, looking down at her with gleaming eyes, wishing he never had to let go as he tightened his arms around her. 

“I love you” He spoke right next to her ear. “Like I’ve never thought it was possible to love. You picked up every pieces of me you could find and glued them back together. You built the man I am today from scratch with your kindness, your resilience and your love. You gave me a second chance, and a second life by your side, and what a life it has been. You are my world, my soul, but most importantly, my home. You will always have me, doll.”

“Don’t say goodbye like that” She muttered, an aching wound opening deep in her chest as the tears kept falling.

“This isn’t goodbye, I’ll make damn sure of that. Wherever you are is where I am too. That’s the deal we made, right ? I’m with you till the end of the line”

“This is the end of our line” She forced up the words. 

He raised her chin with a finger to look into her eyes and in that moment they kissed, together in each other's protective embrace. 

“It will never be”

“Promise me you’ll give them hell”

“I promise I’ll fight with everything I have”

Tag list below the cut

@briannareneea985​ - @bangtanxberm​  - @kissmyoops - @steve-is-daddy - @tylard-blog1 - @harprs - @animegirlgeeky

[eliemo]

The Worst Thing in the World

Summary: Everyone knows Virgil needs to be handled a little different. He might not like it, but that’s the way it is, and living with the light sides won’t change that. After all, it’s common sense. Right? 

Notes: So this is a lot longer and sadder than I planned on but i tend to get carried away. All main 6 sides are sympathetic here. 

TWs: Talk of physical violence, implied abuse (past) Sympathetic/morally gray Remus and Janus but Unsympathetic unnamed characters 

Part Two: Getting There

Virgil paused outside the closed door, holding his breath and listening, ensuring everything was silent for what had to be the hundredth time. 

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to work up the courage to even make it down the hall. 

But everything was quiet. Logan was with Thomas working on the schedule for the week and should be occupied for a while. It was fine. Virgil could slip in and out and no one would ever know. 

He really shouldn’t be pushing his luck like this. They’d been so...so ridiculously nice to him since he’d tried to duck out, and it had been everything he’d wanted for longer than he knew how to say. 

They were welcoming, understanding, and patient. And most of the time, he was able to convince himself it was genuine. That they were all trying. 

And yeah, he knew it wouldn’t always be this good. He was still getting used to all of this, to being a part of things, so they were cutting him some slack. Letting him adjust. Giving him time to get comfortable. 

Honestly, at times it was a bit painfully obvious how hard they were trying, especially considering how far from perfect he’d been despite his best efforts. 

They’d let far too many things go in favor of getting Virgil to relax. Things that never would slide if he’d been around longer. 

 He’d put a clean glass in the wrong cabinet after his first dinner with the light sides, and Patton had only smiled, quickly corrected him, and moved on. 

He’d accidentally spilled his drink on the table, and Roman had just shut down his string of prepared apologies with an almost odd smile before actually offering to clean it up himself. 

(Virgil had, of course, shut the offer down. He knew what they were doing, pretending his mistakes could be overlooked, but it didn’t mean he was useless. He was still trying to be good)

Virgil had even bumped right into Logan the other day, moving too fast through the darkened hallway in his haste to get to his room, causing the logical side to stumble and drop some papers he’d been holding. Virgil hadn’t even gotten a chance to open his mouth before Logan had gracefully picked up the papers, gently told Virgil to slow down, and continued on his way. 

It was...really kind of sweet, once he realized what they were doing. They knew he was wary, knew he wanted this so badly. So they were giving him extra chances, careful to be gentle as he settled in, not wanting him to duck out again. 

But now, weeks later, things had been changing. Not in a bad way, of course. Far from it. Things were just...more comfortable. More familiar. He was actually starting to feel like a part of their family, like maybe he could actually belong, and the others seemed to actually agree, gradually relaxing in his presence. 

Of course, it also meant all those extra chances wouldn’t be handed out freely anymore. He couldn’t expect to get away with things so easily now that he was settled in. 

Which was why he really shouldn’t be sneaking into Logan’s room. 

He was just...he needed something to do. His anxiety had been through the roof since he’d woken up, making him antsy and restless, and with the others busy all day he hadn’t had an outlet since breakfast. 

He’d noticed Logan had been lost in a book for the past few days, rambling on about it a bit once he was finished that morning, and while Virgil couldn’t exactly remember any details, something about the title and general idea had piqued his interest. Or maybe he was just desperate at this point. 

It had been a while since he’d been able to get into a good book, but it usually did help him calm down. 

And of course he could just ask Logan but...he could all too easily picture the logical side mocking the request or turning him down without question, and while Virgil knew it was unrealistic, he couldn’t muster up the courage. 

But it was fine. He knew what the cover looked like, he’d find the book, read it alone in his room, and return it when he got the chance. 

Easy. 

Except...well, that thought went right out the window as soon as he actually stepped inside. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming with how much Logan valued literature. 

He just hadn’t expected Logan’s bookshelf to be so big. 

Jesus, how many books could a guy even read? Logan barely even had any free time as it was. His library took up an entire wall, floor to ceiling, and Virgil didn’t think he’d ever seen so many books in his entire life. It was like something out of the fantasy stories Logan liked to deny enjoying. 

Virgil knew he should turn back. He was still trespassing, and there was no way he’d find the specific book he was looking for in the limited time he had. 

But...maybe the specific book didn’t even matter. He could find something to read, maybe even a few, just to keep him occupied until Logan was distracted in a few days and he could return them. 

He carefully shut the door behind him, waiting a moment like Logan would pop up at any moment, and carefully approached the shelf.

They were all clearly meticulously organized, first by genre, then author in alphabetical order, and Virgil wondered how long it had taken Logan to do. 

He scanned the genres: fiction, nonfiction, historical fiction, sci-fi, textbooks, articles…

There was a brief moment of panic as he ran his finger along some of the book’s spines, frantically wondering if he would even be able to put it back in the right place, and what Logan would do if he found out Virgil had stolen-- 

“Greetings, Virgil.” 

Virgil jumped so hard his shoulder slammed into the edge of the shelf, fear and realization hitting full force as two books toppled over and fell to the ground, leaving behind silence louder than a gunshot. 

Virgil was frozen like a deer in headlights, gaze locked on Logan who was giving the fallen books a quizzical look. 

“Apologies for startling you,” he said, which was not how Virgil was expecting this to start, but it was almost worse than the anger he knew was coming. “I hadn’t expected you to be in here.” 

Virgil tried not to flinch, legs feeling like jello, panicked mind running through endless possibilities of how this was going to go. He’d seen Logan angry, of course, heard him yell, seen him lose himself to frustrated rants. 

It was impossible to know for sure how Logan would handle this, though. Handle him. He would want to discover the best method for a lasting impression, right? He’d probably been waiting to experiment different responses. 

“Virgil?”

“Sorry,” Virgil said quickly, realizing he’d gone silent. “Sorry, I wasn’t...um, I wasn’t stealing. I-I know how it looks but I promise I was gonna bring them back I was just...I-I knew you were busy so…” 

He trailed off, heart sinking when it occurred to him just how guilty he sounded. He was a thief whether he was going to return them or not, and here he was, babbling like a scared child in front of the evidence. 

He swallowed, knowing there was no way out of it. He shouldn’t be trying to make excuses. “S-sorry.” 

He couldn’t meet Logan’s eyes, but he saw the logical side take a cautious step forward. “You were...oh, the books. Virgil, if you were interested in borrowing some reading material you could have simply asked.” 

Virgil did flinch this time, the reminder like a punch to the gut. God, why couldn’t he have just asked. A few seconds of anxiety and a bit of awkwardness would have been worth avoiding this. 

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he sneak around and steal from the people he tried so hard to earn the trust of? 

“I...I know,” he managed. “I just...sorry. I shouldn’t have, um, yeah. I know I shouldn’t have snuck in.” 

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Logan said, the blood rushing to Virgil’s ears as he came closer, voice nearly drowned out by his own racing heart. “It can hardly be considered sneaking- you do live here. Besides, I’ve read most of these already so you are welcome to--” 

At the moment, all Virgil registered was Logan’s presence now beside him, and the hand moving forward just in the corner of his vision. 

He was moving before he had the chance to even think about it, crumpling to the ground out of Logan’s reach, hands moving to protect his face, hunching his shoulders and waiting for the blow. 

The blow that...that didn’t come. 

“Virgil.” 

Virgil flinched at his voice, biting his tongue to keep from whimpering. He could feel Logan standing above him, annoyed even more now, no doubt. What was he waiting for? 

“Virgil,” he said again, softer this time. “Will you look at me, please?” 

Oh. Oh, of course. Logan wouldn’t want to punish Virgil if he wasn’t sure the anxious side was even aware enough to understand. He wanted Virgil to see what he deserved.

He got that. He understood. 

So he nodded, hating how hard it was, digging his nails into his palm when he felt himself growing dangerously close to hyperventilating. He wouldn’t let himself fall under a panic attack. He wouldn’t hurt Thomas because of this. 

Virgil slowly raised his head, realizing idly that he was shaking. His throat felt tight, eyes burning, and Virgil kind of wished he could just hit himself. 

God, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t. He’d known what he was doing, knew all too well what would happen if he fucked it up, and he had (of course he had). 

He deserved this. It was fine. 

He was, however, mildly surprised to find Logan lowered to his level, the logical side crouched down on the balls of his feet, watching Virgil with an almost worried frown. 

“Take some deep breaths, please,” he said. “I was only going to help you pick the books up off the floor. I apologize if I moved too quickly.” 

Virgil shook his head, clenching his jaw to keep the teas at bay, not even sure how he was supposed to respond to that. Why the hell was Logan apologizing? 

“It’s...it’s whatever,” he managed. “Sorry for, uh, you know. F-freaking out like...like that.” 

“It’s quite alright.”

Virgil took a shaky breath, realizing Logan’s silence was probably him waiting to make sure he wasn’t about to send Virgil over the edge in any way that could affect Thomas.

His heart was in no way slowing, dread and apprehension rising unbearably but...but the waiting was only going to make it worse, the anticipation sickening. Best to get it over with. 

“Alright,” he said, almost impressed with how steady his voice came out. “I’m ready.” 

Virgil expected something to happen right then and there. He was less than prepared for the hesitation followed by...nothing? 

“Ready?” Logan echoed. “Ready for...what?” 

Virgil forced himself the shrug, still not able to quite reach Logan’s eyes, struggling to maintain nonchalance he didn’t feel in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “However, uh...however you wanted to do it, I guess. Whatever you’re gonna do.” 

A beat of silence and Virgil remained tense, bracing himself, willing himself to relax and take it. But all that happened was Logan awkwardly clearing his throat, leaning back on his heels. 

“Well,” he said. “I...had only planned on replacing the fallen books and assisting you in picking out some things to read.” 

Virgil nodded, blinking furiously to push back tears fighting to break through. “Ok? Uh, you mean...before or-or after?” 

“I’m...I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Logan admitted, incredibly out of character. “Have I missed something? What...exactly do you believe is happening?” 

Virgil wasn't exactly sure why that mattered. Was this...was this part of it? Making sure he understood? 

“Uhm, I-I broke into your room? I mean...I know I shouldn’t have taken your stuff without asking. I know...I know that’s not ok. I’m sorry.” 

He saw Logan tilt his head slightly, frown deepening. “It really is not an issue, Virgil. My books aren’t exactly locked away. I would only prefer you ask next time so I do not end up startling you, but you’re reacting as if I--” 

He stopped himself, and Virgil saw the moment realization dawned, something in Logan’s expression hardening. 

Oh. Of course. Logan hadn’t been sure Virgil would know something like this was coming. 

But he did, of course. He understood, as much as he hated it. He was anxiety, there wasn’t any other way to handle him. There wasn’t a choice. 

“Ah,” Logan said, softer than before. “I see.” 

Virgil nodded again, heart still racing so fast he thought Logan might be able to hear it, glad that now they could at least get it over with. 

But Logan still wasn’t moving, still talking in that achingly gentle voice. “Virgil, I have no intention of harming you in any way. I’m not even remotely upset with you.” 

And that...that didn’t make any sense. Virgil had literally just gone into someone else’s room without permission, and Logan had just said he’d prefer to be asked so why--?

Unless...unless he was being given another chance. Again. Another chance he didn’t deserve in favor of over the top friendliness. 

“Don’t,” he said, before he could even consider stopping himself. “Don’t keep doing this, Logan, please I...it’s ok, you guys don’t have to keep pretending. I know you’re angry, I know--” 

“I’m not angry,” Logan interrupted, firm but somehow still gentle, and Virgil shrank back. “I believe we have a larger issue to discuss as a group but for now please understand that I am not angry with you. And even if I was, I would never intentionally bring you any harm. I know for a fact the others would not either.” 

Virgil shook his head, hating all of this, hating feeling small and pitied, hated delaying the inevitable like things could work any other way. 

He hated the treacherous, nagging hope in his chest. 

“But they will,” he insisted. “You all will, I know you're just...waiting to make sure I won’t leave again but I won’t. I know it's how it works, ok? It’s fine.” 

The lie tasted like acid on his tongue. But some of it was true, at least. He wouldn’t try to leave again. He was finally feeling like a part of things. And if he was good, well...maybe that could last. 

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Virgil was just beginning to think he’d finally managed to convince him to set the pity aside when he was speaking again.

“Virgil, do you think you could accompany me to the commons? I believe it is imperative to discuss this with the others.” 

Virgil froze, realizing he may have just made a simple situation worse by raising his voice. Did Logan really need to get everyone? It was bad enough that just Logan was upset with him but all of them...

But he knew better than to risk any further anger by arguing. And Logan was carefully offering a hand, palm up, no sudden movements or pain when Virgil hesitantly took it and was helped to his feet, so maybe...maybe Logan wasn’t actually angry. 

Not right now, at least. 

Logan led them down the hallway to the living room, Virgil unable to stop his trembling the entire time, legs a bit unsteady and weak. He almost wished the short walk took longer, dread building up in his gut the closer he got like a man being led to the gallows. 

He had to remind himself to breathe when he saw both Patton and Roman already there, lounging casually, all smiles amid easy conversation. 

Logan cleared his throat, Virgil left to shift awkwardly beside him, the other two sides immediately glancing up with bright, welcoming smiles. 

Virgil felt guilt twist in his gut at having to ruin that. 

“I believe,” Logan started. “That we need to have a...family meeting, as Patton might call it. There’s been a bit of a miscommunication that needs clearing up.” 

“Everything alright?” Roman asked as Patton, cheerful as ever, waved them both over. Logan didn’t answer, and Virgil was too busy staring at the ground to think of a reply. 

He ended up being seated on the couch beside Roman, Patton sitting across from him and Logan standing at the arm of the couch. For a moment nobody spoke, Roman and Patton clearly at a loss. 

“Virgil,” Logan prompted. “Would you mind telling the others what happened from your point of view?” 

Virgil’s eyes widened, head snapping up to look at Logan with something almost like betrayal, and any hope he’d had that this was going to be forgiven without consequences suddenly vanished. 

But Logan was quick to reassure him, hand moving to rest against Virgil’s clenched fist. “I assure you, nothing about my previous statements will change. I only want to ensure they have all the context.” 

Virgil shakily nodded, like he had any choice in the matter, trying not to wince when his voice came out small and breathy when he finally spoke. 

“I...I went into Logan’s room,” he admitted, waiting for yelling that never came. “While he was with Thomas. I-I was looking for something to read but-but I was going to give it back, I promise, I wasn’t stealing I was just too anxious to ask, so I--” 

“Wait,” Roman interjected, curiosity turning to something close to amusement. “That’s all you did? I steal from Logan all the time!” 

Logan blinked. “You what?” 

“Kiddos,” Patton chided, unable to help the small smile on his lips. “Now we usually don’t go into people’s rooms without asking but I’m sure Logan understood. What’s this all about?” 

Virgil suddenly had absolutely no idea how to respond, this entire conversation now taking a much different turn than he’d expected. 

What the hell was happening? Was this...part of it? It sure felt like he was being punished, but Patton’s smile was as genuine as ever. 

Logan leaned forward, furrowing his brow. 

“Virgil can you tell us what you believe is going to happen to you? What you thought was happening when I found you?” 

Virgil, far too lost to do anything but comply blindly, couldn’t understand why Patton and Roman suddenly looked so confused. 

“I was...I was going to be punished, right?” He didn’t understand the purpose of making him explain something everyone already knew. “I mean, Logan said he wasn’t mad so I guess I’m getting another chance but any other time I would’ve--” 

“Wait a minute, what?” It was Roman’s turn to sound baffled, all his attention now focused solely on Virgil. “Punished? What do you mean, like- like grounding you? You aren’t a child, Virge.” 

“I do not think that’s what he meant.” 

“But he...Logan, he--” 

“Virgil believed,” Logan cut him off, sounding more hesitant than Virgil had ever heard him. “That some type of...physical punishment was inevitable. At least, that is what I gathered.”  

“You think we’re going to hit you?” Patton’s voice, verging on frantic, easily overpowered the others. “Over this? Over anything?” 

Virgil flinched back against the couch, desperately trying to figure out what he’d done wrong, how he’d managed to make this so much worse than it was just five minutes ago. 

“I don’t...I'm sorry?” 

“We’re not going to punish you, kiddo,” he said, the word ‘punish’ almost spat out like something sour. “We’d never do that to you! Never.” 

And oh, that was Patton, trying so hard to be kind, even when he was so visibly furious. Looking out for all of them to the end. Careful not to let Virgil’s emotions affect Thomas. 

“You guys don’t have to keep doing this.” 

Patton blinked, trying and failing to get Virgil to meet his eyes. “Keep doing what, kiddo?” 

“I’m not gonna duck out again,” he said, the smile he offered meant to be reassuring but he was certain it was wobbly and frail. “I-I like it here. With you guys. You don’t need to keep...cutting me all this slack. I know I keep messing up and I know if this is going to...work I have to be--” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

Roman’s language wasn’t even corrected, Patton hardly acknowledging the outburst at all, but the moral side looked somehow just as furious. 

And there it was, genuine fear and panic returning with a vengeance, the sudden knowledge that he’d probably done irreversible damage in an effort to reassure them. 

“Kiddo you...what is it that you think you’ve done wrong? You’re not...oh my god, you’re not talking about the little things, are you? Spills or- or misplacing something or...or…” 

“I- yeah?” Because what else would he be talking about? “I’ve been...I’ve been trying to be good, so I-I don’t think I’ve done anything else to--” 

“Is that how you think we handle things?” Roman was rigid beside him, his fury overwhelming, and Virgil hoped one of them would hurry up and just knock him unconscious. “So, what? If Logan drops something am I just supposed to hit him?” 

“Roman,” Logan said, sounding oddly choked. “Please.” 

And oh. Oh. The realization hit like a punch to the gut, and Virgil realized all at once why they were so upset with him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just a stupid misunderstanding. 

Oh, god. 

“No!” He insisted, voice a little stronger in his desperation for them to understand their mistake. “No, of course not! That’s not...guys, that's not what I meant.” 

The tension in the room dropped a bit, Prince relaxing just slightly, but three pairs of eyes were still watching, painfully concerned. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you thought that,” Virgil continued, a little lightheaded. “Not you guys, never you guys. Obviously not, you all wouldn’t...you shouldn’t be punished like that. Ever. I promise I was just talking about me.” 

He expected relief, understanding, and hopefully to just get this whole thing over with so they could hurry up and go back to normal. 

But apparently he’d only managed to make everyone even more distressed. Logan and Roman’s eyes had gone wide and Patton...Patton had tears streaming down his face. 

“Why would you think that?” It was quiet, barely a whisper, but Virgil had never heard Patton sound so furious, so cold and lifeless. 

“I...I don’t know why you’re--” 

“Virgil why would you think that?” Patton was standing now, taking a step away from the couch with a hand moving to cover his mouth. Logan reached for his shoulder, only to be quickly shrugged off. 

“Patton, please attempt to calm down.” 

“But he...he said...why, Virge? Why just you?” 

Virgil blinked, fighting to swallow past the lump in his throat, still hopelessly lost to what he’d managed to do wrong. Did they...not know? Even Logan? Wasn’t it just...common sense? 

“It’s...because it’s me?” he offered weakly. “I-I’m anxiety. I tend to- to mess things up, guys. I have to be, you know, dealt with differently so it doesn't affect Thomas as much, right?”

He was met only with deafening silence, before Logan cleared his throat, looking for once like he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be saying. 

“That hardly seems logical,” he said, no malice behind it. “How would punishing you more severely do anything but succeed in making your mental state worse?” 

“I...I don’t know. But it works. It makes me more...cautious. You guys haven’t really had to deal with me and my fuck ups before but now that I’m here you’ll have to...I just uh, figured you knew this, I guess. I thought everyone did.” 

“No,” Roman said, hardly audible at all. “We didn’t.” 

Oh. Well...at least it was out now. Virgil may not like it, but he knew getting hurt sometimes was necessary. If it made their lives better, it was worth it in the long run. 

But still…

The thought that if he’d only known, realized sooner that their willingness to let things go and love him unconditionally really was genuine, he could have maybe lived without the fear of punishment for the first time in so long. 

So much for that. All he’d done now was manage to make them angry, and he honestly wasn’t even sure what he’d done to make them all so upset.  

“Who told you that?” Roman asked, Virgil wincing despite himself. “Was it...if it was my brother--” 

“It wasn’t,” Virgil said, not really sure if that was the answer Roman wanted, but it was the truth. Remus and Janus had never been the ones to use any sort of physical violence on him, though Virgil never had any doubt that they could. “It was the others. I...they told me...I really thought you guys knew.” 

Now, looking at it from a suddenly concerning perspective, he wasn’t even sure Remus or Janus had known. 

“Sorry,” Virgil said to the silence, not even sure why anymore. “It wasn’t always that bad. That’s why I asked Logan, I wasn’t sure how you guys...uh, planned on doing it but apparently you didn’t even know you had to so we can--” 

And suddenly Patton was gone, stalking through the kitchen doorway, practically leaving behind a visible trail of utter fury as he went, and Logan was following with one last worried glance over his shoulder. 

Oh god, they were both mad. He’d managed to upset everyone, ruin everything in one conversation, and he couldn’t even apologize properly because he still didn’t know what he’d done wrong. 

He’d just been trying to tell them it was ok, that there was no other way to deal with him, that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He hated it, sure. It terrified him. He wanted so badly for it to stop but it couldn’t, it…

It couldn’t. Could it? 

He felt Roman shift on the couch, probably to hurry and follow the others into the kitchen to get away from the mess on the couch they’d accidentally welcomed into their family. 

Before he could stop himself Virgil was reaching forward, grabbing Roman’s sleeve with a weak, trembling hand. 

“Please.” And there was absolutely no point in trying to hide the unsteady wobble of his voice. “Will you...I-I just don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“Oh, Virgil.” 

When Prince moved, there was a split second of blind panic where Virgil thought he was being attacked. But it faded as soon as he registered strong arms around him, pulling him against Roman’s chest, and Virgil immediately burst into tears. 

Roman was shushing him gently, holding him tight but somehow not uncomfortably confining, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair as he muttered quiet reassurances. 

Virgil could only sob into his chest, overtaken by hiccuping gasps that left him dizzy and weak and unable to stop. 

And yet he was distantly aware that through his tears he hadn’t stopped his string of endless apologies, the desperate words falling without his permission. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Roman said, impossibly soft. “You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I-I ma-made him mad,” he insisted, breath catching on nearly every word as he tried in vain to calm down enough to speak properly. “Patton, I-I...h-he was mad, he’s upset and he’s...he’ll--” 

“Patton isn’t angry,” Roman said. “He’s just a little upset. But not at you! You haven’t done anything.” 

“But I…” he paused, aware enough to consider the words before he said them, how utterly unfair and selfish they were. But maybe…

“I don’t want you guys to hurt me.” 

“We would never,” Roman said, holding tighter without hesitation. “I know you won’t believe this right away, and you’ll need to hear it from the others too, but just listen to me for now, ok?” 

Roman pulled back, but only slightly. Virgil could still feel the Prince's heart beneath his own shaking fingers, and the creative side carefully cupped Virgil’s face in his hands. 

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, Virgil. Nobody. I know we’ve only recently become friends, but I swear to you, for the rest of your life, you never have to be afraid of that again. Not from me, not from the others. Not from anyone.” 

Virgil struggled to breathe, chest aching, lungs screaming for air, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. “But they...you have to th-they said--” 

“They were lying,” Princey said, with so much venom Virgil had to forcibly remind himself that Roman wasn’t angry with him. “You heard Logan, it doesn’t make sense. No one should...you didn’t deserve that, Virge.” 

But...but he’d...all this time he’d just…

“Patton will you please--” 

“No, Logan! I can’t I- did you hear him?” 

Patton and Logan were still in the next room over, and Virgil could now just make out the two of them standing at the threshold. He forced himself not to whimper at the obvious anger that came from both of them, but didn’t stop himself from clutching at Roman tighter, beyond grateful when Princey did the same. 

“I did,” Logan said. “I was standing right there. But Patton--” 

“How could they…god, how could they just--?” 

“Patton.” Logan hadn’t yelled, not exactly, but it was loud and stern enough to quiet the other’s rant. “I know. I understand that you’re upset- we all are. But right now Virgil thinks you’re upset with him.” 

Virgil’s breath hitched in the sudden silence that followed, doing his best to focus instead on Roman’s breathing, feeling the Prince move to rub along Virgil’s back, still hushing and whispering quiet reassurances. 

He cringed when he heard a tiny gasp followed quickly by two pairs of footsteps making their way towards the couch, and he wondered just how far Roman would have to go to keep his promise. 

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry.” That was Patton’s voice right above him, soft and sad and...and no longer quite so angry. “Honey...can you look at me please?” 

Virgil tensed, reluctantly moving his head away from Roman’s chest, face burning as he let the others see his tear stained face, heart clenching when he realized Patton wasn’t much better off.  

“Sorry,” Virgil whispered, guided more on frantic instinct than anything else. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Patton reached forward, slow and nonthreatening, lacing his fingers with Virgil’s. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you, kiddo. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. We would never do that.” 

And god, Virgil wanted so badly to believe that, to hold onto every word, every sympathetic gaze, everything that was so clearly real love rather than pity and never let it go. 

He wanted to feel safe with them. He wanted it more than anything. 

But...but they had all been angry. He’d seen it just moments ago, heard the unmistakable fury in their voices. 

And maybe he’d spoken aloud without realizing, or maybe Logan was just exceptionally good at reading him, because suddenly the logical side was crouched beside Patton, carefully meeting Virgil’s watery eyes. 

“We were not angry at you,” he said slowly. “We’re only angry at whoever thought it was alright to hurt you. Who made you think you could ever deserve it.” 

 “But I…” he didn’t know why he was arguing, why he was frantically searching for reasons to destroy something he wanted to desperately. He settled for the only reason he’d ever really been given. “I’m anxiety.” 

“You do represent Thomas’s fears, yes,” Logan said. “As well as many other fundamental functions.”  

“That doesn’t make you bad, kiddo,” Patton chimed in.  “We love you. All of you. We’re all gonna mess up sometimes, and that’s ok. Mistakes are part of being human.” 

“Well technically we are not human,” Logan pointed out, earning an exasperated sigh from Roman. “But Patton’s point still stands. Each and every one of us will make mistakes. That is, of course, why we have each other. Not to punish, but to assist each other.” 

And that...wow, that sounded good. Impossibly good. God, how did he manage to surround himself with the kindest people in the universe? 

“But what if I…” he swallowed, trying to figure out how to phrase his worries. “If I do something wrong, like...like really bad--” 

“Then we will discuss it as a group,” Logan said. “And work together to determine what happened and how to fix it without any lasting negative effects. Not just for Thomas, but for all of us.” 

“Indeed!” Roman agreed with his usual flair, reaching around to lightly squeeze Patton and Virgil’s intertwined fingers. “And if any of the others attempt to bring you harm again, they’ll have to get through me first!” 

“All of us,” Patton said, wiping his eyes with his free hand and flashing Princey a grateful smile. “We won’t let that happen to you again.” 

Virgil shrugged, overwhelmed, aware the gesture did nothing to mask the emotion in his eyes. “It’s...it’s really ok, you guys. They aren’t like you, they were just...doing what they thought they had to.” 

Logan frowned, averting his gaze. “Unlikely.” 

“That doesn’t make it ok,” Patton said before Virgil could question exactly what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “And we can see it left you really afraid, kiddo.” 

“I-I guess. Yeah.” 

“Sometimes talking about traumatic experiences can be the first step to moving past them,” Logan said. “And we will, of course, be willing to listen and help however we can.” 

Virgil... didn’t really want to talk about. He still wasn't quite able to wrap his head around the fact that it wasn’t a necessity, never actually had been, a part of him still wholly convinced this was some kind of cruel, awful trick. 

But...but Logan was looking at him with such gentle earnestness, Roman and Patton both nodding and smiling in gentle encouragement, those doubts were quickly being pushed to the side. At least for now. 

They all looked so eager to help, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to shut them down the way his panicked brain, so used to isolation, was screaming at him to do. 

And besides, maybe it could help. Maybe talking would help him come to terms with...whatever it really was that had happened. 

But not right now. He wasn't sure he could handle anything else. 

“Maybe,” he said after a moment. “Just, uh...not now. I don’t...I mean, i-if that’s ok, I don’t think I’m...ready.” 

“Of course, sweetie,” Patton said, not sounding disappointed in the slightest, only understanding and patient. “Whenever you’re ready. You can come to us in your own time.” 

“Is there...anything we can do for you now?” Roman asked. “Anything to make you feel better?” 

“I guess, uh-” he paused, wondering if it was too much, too selfish a thing to ask. “Maybe just...stay here for a bit? All of us? Only if- if you aren’t busy, obviously, it’s ok if you are, I just thought maybe--” 

“I think that is an excellent suggestion, Virgil,” Logan said. “Having some company will do you good.” 

Patton practically squealed, squeezing Virgil’s hand before hurrying to his feet,  blinding smile on his face. “Ooh! We can make some snacks and bring some blankets over! Be right back!” 

Virgil was carefully maneuvered (probably a bit overly careful, like he was glass that could shatter at any moment) so he was now comfortably pressed against Logan’s side, Roman hurrying to follow Patton with promises to return in seconds, departing with a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. 

Virgil was almost surprised when Logan’s arm moved to wrap around his shoulders, keeping him close, almost as protective and warm as Roman. He’d have thought Logan would be more averse to physical content. 

He’d never been so glad to be mistaken, basking in the warmth like it was a sunlit room. 

Virgil took a breath, breathing a bit easier now. “I really am sorry. I probably...really freaked you out, huh?” 

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said. “I believe it’s safe to say you were much more...err, freaked out, as you would say.” 

Virgil smiled, relaxing into his hold, but there was still something heavy sitting in his chest, nagging at him to voice it aloud. 

“I feel like an idiot.” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“But I do.” He didn’t move, terrified he’d lose his nerve without the warmth at his side. “I...it was stupid. All of this. I actually thought that...I still don’t really think that this can work. Without...doing all that when I screw up. I want to but it’s...I thought there wasn’t any other way.” 

“There is no reason for you to be held to a different standard than anyone else,” Logan said, slow and careful. “We plan only on treating you as an equal. As someone we care very much for.” 

“I should have known,” he muttered. “You guys are r-really...really great. I shouldn’t have accused you of that.” 

There was a beat of silence that stretched on just a moment too long, and any other time Virgil might have taken that as a perfectly reasonable excuse to begin panicking all over again. 

But with Logan’s protective hold still firmly around him, the easy warmth in his chest that lingered from everyone’s kind words...he couldn’t find it in him to be particularly worried over Logan taking a moment to think. 

“You did not accuse us of anything,” the logical side said, continuing before Virgil could argue. “You reacted to what you assumed to be normal, no one can fault you for that. You’ve been taught to have a very particular mindset. As...upsetting as it is, your reaction was perfectly logical based on the information you had.” 

Logan’s arm moved, just for a moment, to reach around and squeeze Virgil’s hand, just like Patton and Roman had done, just another reminder of newfound safety. 

“What we need to do now,” Logan said. “Is work on making sure you never feel that way again.” 

Virgil nodded against him, finding that, at least for the moment,  his want to believe, to be safe and welcomed, was enough to outweigh the storm of doubt in his racing mind. 

“Ok,” he said, glancing up just in time to see Logan’s relieved smile, loosening his hold as Roman and Patton hurried back to the living room. “Thank you.” 

As the four of them settled down and rearranged themselves, there was an all too familiar burning in Virgil’s eyes, a tight twisting in his chest. But this time, it wasn’t from panic or fear.

This time, if he cried from this feeling, from being content and accepted, it might not be the worst thing in the world. 

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions React: Sole Finds Their Pre-War Teddy Bear

The set up:

Scavenging wasn’t as easy of a job as some made it out to be. Sanctuary was running low on spare materials and had searched for someone willing to go out into the junk piles of the wasteland and bring home materials that could be turned into something useful.

That’s how Sole and their companion found themselves picking through piles of what appeared to be garbage, climbing over refrigerators long out of service and cracking children’s toys. Skeletons of lives past, remnants of individuals who wouldn’t be remembered in a world that left them behind. Sole stood at the top of the pile, a hand over their eyes to scan the wreckage, when they spotted something they thought long gone and took off running.

Cait:

Though she’d refuse to admit it later, Cait started when Sole took off, scrambling down from their perch at the top of the junk pile, dead set on a goal she couldn’t make heads or tails of. Their vision had locked onto something and it appeared they weren’t going to stop until they got what they wanted. “Hey! Where the hell do ya think you’re goin’?” Cait scrambled after them, boots slipping over car parts and rusted metal as she fought to keep up.

Her shout didn’t stop Sole, though they did skid to a stop at the bottom of a pile, tossing scraps of metal aside without a care in the world. Cait kept her distance to avoid being caught in the crossfire and only stepped forward when Sole straightened up, something clutched tightly in their hands. Nearly slipping and grouchier than before, she picked her way through the mess to stand in front of Sole and rolled her eyes. “Ya really nearly killed yourself over that garbage?”

Sole looked up, their expression vulnerable and a little bit guilty. Gently, they brushed some dirt off the teddy bear they held, though it didn’t do much to fix it’s battered appearance. Somehow Sole looked even more haunted, like they were seeing into a world Cait had barely a grasp on. “This is mine.” They whispered.

“What?”

“It’s mine. From before the war. I didn’t think… how the hell did it survive?”

Cait’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Fockin’ hell, that thing’s more durable than most people.”

Sole laughed, though their mind still seemed so far away as they traced the edge of the teddy’s ear with the tip of their finger. Cait moved closer to them, swearing harshly when she nearly slipped and fell again. One of its eyes was missing and the threads were coming loose from it’s face, but there was something about Sole’s affection for it that made Cait see something cute. “It’s survived, I’ll give it that.” Her tone was begrudging, but deep down, she knew if someone ever tried to take that thing away from Sole, there’d be hell to pay.

Curie:

Curie’s worry spiked when Sole nearly slipped and fell. The potential for injury was great amongst the piles of garbage; who knew what laid under a poorly supported tarp. Concern running high, Curie climbed her way after her runaway companion, carefully testing each place for proper support before putting her weight on it. The going was slow and by the time she reached their side, Sole had already found and dug out what they were chasing after.

It was a teddy bear, covered in grime and layers of dirt from being out in the Wasteland. “I’m sorry, Mx, but what is the significance of this… thing?” It was difficult for her to hide her distaste at the object, which could barely be seen past the filthiness.

“It used to be mine. Still is, I guess. I never thought I’d see it again.” Sole’s voice was barely above a whisper as they cradled the stuffed animal like a child.

“The garbage?” Curie was confused.

“It’s not-” Sole pressed their lips together, suppressing their distress.

The possibility of their teddy surviving the war was unbelievably low, and yet both of them had managed to beat the odds. They were overcome with a wave of emotion. Something so fragile and seemingly insignificant to everyone else had managed to survive and they had never identified with something so much since they had awoken in this nightmare.

Curie managed to pick up on the mood despite her confusion and folded her hands together. “There’s a river just down the hill if you’d like to clean it off.” She stated quietly.

Sole nodded, smile a little watery, and looked up at Curie. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. Lead the way, Curie.”

Danse:

“Soldier! Don’t be so reckless!” Danse shouted after them, struggling with whether or not to go after them. Climbing in wreckage wasn’t the easiest in power armor.

He watched them charge down the side of the garbage pile, skidding to a stop at the bottom and beginning to rip the piles apart with no regard to how it may affect the stability of what they were standing on. Danse huffed, having never seen them acting like that, and began making his way over to them, careful to place his weight in stable areas, lest he become part of the metal scrap in the piles. He was beyond astonished to see them bent over a teddy bear that seemed to have gone through the wringer. “Is this what you took off over.” He scoffed in disbelief.

“This belongs to me.” They whispered, still crouched over it, nearly shaking.

Danse failed to understand what they were saying until they looked up at him with teary eyes. It didn’t just belong to them, it belonged to them before the war. He suddenly understood their reaction, and was flustered at the way he’d reacted. He should’ve known Sole wouldn’t take off over something insignificant, especially without communicating to him. He looked over to the horizon before glancing back down at them, where they were stroking the teddy bear’s fur, mesmerized. “Put it in your backpack. We still need to work while we have daylight.” Too harsh, he thought. “We can clean it up when we get back to Sanctuary.” A little better.

Sole grinned up at him and wiped a stray tear off their face, inhaling as they stood and hugged it tightly to their chest. They muttered something to themself before swinging their backpack to the side and adjusting the teddy bear “comfortably” in it. Danse looked away to suppress the affectionate smile that crept across his face.

Deacon:

“Oh, shit. Why are we taking off, Boss?” Deacon was a little alarmed at their sudden movement.

In an attempt to keep up he nearly slid and ended up on his ass. He waved his arms comically for a moment to keep his balance and remain upright before charging after them just as recklessly. He wasn’t one to question why someone was running. The wasteland was a run first, ask questions later type of place, and he’d survived so far with that policy.

When they skidded to a stop and began digging, he stumbled to slow down and came to a stop behind them. He couldn’t quite see over their shoulder, but when they let out a victorious shout and the scraps stopped flying, he leaned forward. They were clutching a teddy bear. “We aren’t gonna get much spare cloth from that garbage, I’ll be honest, Boss.” He said skeptically.

They stood and whirled around, a broad grin on their face as they held the teddy bear out. “It’s mine!” The joy on their face was contagious, but he was still confused.

“What do you mean?”

“From before the War! I can’t believe it survived.” Their tone turned to one of wonder as they rubbed their thumb over where one of its eyes had fallen off.

Deacon couldn’t help his chuckle. “It is cute, I do have to admit. Let’s get it cleaned up though.”

Gage:

“What the fuck?” Gage’s head snapped towards where Sole had taken off, tracking them through the crumbling piles of garbage that scattered under their weight.

He groaned under his breath, rolling his eyes as he looked up at the sky. He’d sworn they were smarter than the last Overboss and yet he could almost predict them slipping and breaking their neck over whatever they were chasing. God knows it couldn’t be that important. With a huff, he dropped his cigarette and began slowly following after them.

Maybe it was the way they were desperately tossing junk aside, or the fact that he’d never seen Sole act like this, but he was almost wary of coming up behind them. He wasn’t trying to take a shard of glass to his good eye. He waited for them to stop scrambling before he came up beside them and caught a glimpse at what they were holding. “A fucking teddy bear? Are you kidding me?” He rolled his eyes, trying to find patience somewhere in the back of his brain.

“I… Gage this is mine.”

“You- what?”

“It’s mine. From before the war. I’ve had this since I was five.”

“How the hell did this fucker live longer than most people do?”

Sole laughed and hugged the teddy bear tightly. Then, they held it up next to him, Gage dodging to avoid being touched by the filthy stuffed animal. “You guys look exactly the same. Teddy bears covered in dirt.”

“You better move your ass before I kick the shit out of you.” He grumbled, pushing past them to hide the slight flush on his face.

Hancock:

“Hey! Sole!” Hancock was frozen in place, mildly stunned by their reaction to whatever they’d seen.

Yanking at his coattails as they got caught on a sharp piece of metal, he began the trek to catch up to them. Luckily, they stopped not far from where they’d taken off, kneeling in a pile of discarded clothing. Pieces of clothing were tossed behind them carelessly before they stopped and grabbed something. Hancock caught up to them shortly after, boots slipping against the slimy hood of a car before he made it down to stand next to them. “What’s going on Sole.”

They turned and stood and began looking between him and the teddy bear expectantly. “You could’ve cracked your head open runnin’ over here, Sunshine. For a piece of grimy trash?”

Sole shook their head and flipped over a tag to show him before they looked back up, even more expectant. “It was mine!” The tag on the bear’s ear was nearly shredded, but once pushed together, had their name in smudged handwriting.

Hancock felt like an ass for calling their teddy bear a piece of trash, but to be fair, they had never argued when they saw previous teddy bears laying on the side of the road as they travelled. He sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry about calling it trash, Sole. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I probably would’ve too.” They laughed, their fond gaze still turned to the teddy bear.

“Hey! We should get a matching hat for the bear. It can be the mascot of Goodneighbor.”

Haylen:

Haylen groaned, struggling to keep up with Sole once they’d taken off. She already was slightly behind, on the other side of the mountain of trash as they scrambled their way down, and was fighting to not get her foot caught and go tumbling down into the piles. She managed to get to Sole’s side without major incident, though she was sporting a new scrape on her palm by the time she stopped next to them.

The sun was already starting to set, but it wasn’t hard to see what Sole was holding so cheerfully in their arms. A teddy bear, covered in dirt and God knows what else. “Christ, Sole. You could’ve gotten hurt and I can’t carry you back home. Why the hell did you do that for garbage?”

“It’s not garbage. Haylen, this is mine.” Sole looked up at her with an expression Haylen had never seen from them before.

“What do you mean?” Her tone softened.

“It’s mine. I had this before… before.”

“Oh, Sole.” She sighed, kneeling and putting her hand on their shoulder.

They blew out a shaky breath, turning the teddy bear over to examine it carefully. Haylen reached over and brushed some of the loose dirt off in an attempt to clean it despite the obvious staining. It didn’t do much, but Sole turned and smiled at her appreciatively. “Put it in my backpack so it gets home safe, okay? We have to keep moving, though.”

MacCready:

At least they weren’t standing at the top of a hill, possibly the worst place to be when a trained sniper could be looking for a target. However, he couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head as they took off towards wherever, seemingly blind to possible danger. With a grumbled “I don’t get paid enough for this” he started to go after them.

It was a bit of a hike and by the time he reached them, he was sweating. Once he stopped he leaned against a rickety storage cabinet, fingers mentally crossed it wouldn’t topple over and take him with it, as he stared down at the teddy bear in their hands. With a huffed breath, “What was that.”

“Sorry, I just-” Sole stared in wonder at the little bear. “I thought this was gone forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“This was mine. Pre-war. I… it was a gift for my third birthday and I thought I’d never see it again.”

Something about the look on their face made him pause in his distaste for their impulsivity and the tattered cloth bear that rested in their grip. He sighed and dropped into a crouch next to them and took the teddy bear from their hands. He turned it over, examining the damage, and began brushing what he could off of the bear. It was disgusting, but salvageable. “Alright. I’ll get the sewing kit out once we get back to Sanctuary.”

Nick:

“Hey, kid!”

He watched them take off in disbelief, alarmed at what could be going through their head to go charging off so quickly. It was difficult to navigate the wrecked landscape but he managed to make his way across the landfill and get to where Sole was cradling something in their arms. With a reluctant curiosity, Nick leaned over and took a look. “You’re holding garbage, Sole.” His voice was unimpressed and confused.

“It’s not garbage.” They protested, meeting his glowing, yellow eyes. “It’s my teddy bear. I’ve had it since I was young!”

Nick tilted his head, trying to picture what the teddy bear could look like before the war had taken its owner too far away to take care of it. Despite the layers of grossness, he could see something Sole would label theirs affectionately. That thought stuck with him as he spoke. “Look at you, always finding those that need you. Should we go get it cleaned up?” 

Old Longfellow:

“What- ah, damn’t. Where are you takin’ off to, cap’n?” Longfellow’s voice was gravelly, carrying across the wasted landscape.

Sole paid no mind and kept running, determined to reach their destination at any cost. He felt his knee creak as he climbed over the rusty parts and pieces of pre-war buildings, remnants of lives past. He cursed under his breath, but kept climbing after them, hoping the creaking, shabby structures would hold together as he moved. Eventually, he got to them. “Really? For a piece of trash, Sole?”

Sole shook their head vigorously. “This is my teddy bear. From before the bombs. I… Jesus.” They looked up at him as if they’d had the breath knocked out of them.

Longfellow looked at it carefully, understanding that now wasn’t the time to be so brash. They reached out for a hand up and he gave it to them, gripping their arm tightly as they stood, careful not to lose their balance on the shifting scraps. Once they were properly balanced, they reached out, teddy in hand in front of them. “I want you to hang onto it for now, okay?” It was hard to say no to them when they looked at him like that. With grumbling reluctance, he took the teddy and settled it in his backpack.

Piper:

“Blue?! Be careful!” Piper yelled after them, preparing to follow them by heaving the strap of her backpack further onto her shoulder.

She’d spent more time than ideal dodging traders as she chased after Nat when they were younger, so she’d gotten skill in quickly finding the best footing. It wasn’t difficult to keep pace as long as she didn’t stay on one leaning piece of discarded trash for too long. Nimble as ever, it wasn’t long before she was stopping at Sole’s side.

They had dug in the pile of junk, dirt coating their hands with tiny flecks of rust for decoration, and pulled out a weak looking scrap of cloth. No, not just a scrap of cloth. It was a teddy bear, well worn and overdue by way too long for a good washing. “Sole, I can’t believe you ran like that for trash. What’s going on?”

“It’s mine.” Their voice was hushed, as if they were sharing a secret.

“From… no way.” Piper got a good look at it and yeah, it certainly looked like it had been around for hundreds of years.

“Yeah.”

They looked up at her in awe, a childlike grin on their face, reminding her of her own baby sister. With a reassuring smile, she patted them on the back. “No worries, Blue. We can get it back home and fix it up in no time, I bet. I’ve got some old recipes for stain remover we can try out, if you want.”

Preston:

“General? General!” He shouted after them, quickly moving into action to keep up with them.

Preston was never more than a few steps behind them at all times, and that wasn’t going to change now. Despite things sliding out from under their feet, Preston managed to continue finding the footing to leap after them, nearly colliding with their back as they slid to a stop and kneeled at the base of a pile. He got to his knees next to them to see what they were doing.

When they began prying something out from under a scrap of metal, he lifted it to ease their way, despite his confusion. They yanked out a teddy bear that may have been light at some point, but was now coated in just about everything you could find in the wasteland, and missing it’s tail. Sole let out a disbelieving laugh, their jaw dropped from the shock. “What’s going on General? What is this other than garbage?”

“It’s mine! Holy shit, I can’t believe it survived!”

“From before the war?” Preston’s own eyes widened.

Sole nodded eagerly, the joy from this miracle evident on their face. He’d never seen the General so elated and took it in stride. “Sturges should be able to work his magic once we get back to Sanctuary. We’ll keep it safe until then, okay?”

Travis:

“S-Sole?” Travis was hesitant to take off after them, unsure if any part of this was safe.

His steps were probably even more cautious than they needed to be as he made his way across the landfill, cringing every time metal slid against metal once he’d shifted his weight off of it. It was a good bit before he got to where Sole had launched themself towards, and by then, they’d already stood and clutched whatever they were holding to their chest. Upon further examination, he realized it was a teddy bear. “Uhm, is that… supposed to be a teddy bear? It looks like trash, to be honest.” 

Sole’s gaze caught him off guard when they looked up at him with excitement shining so bright it could rival the stars. He sucked in a deep breath and looked away, examining the teddy bear again. “It’s mine! Travis, I had this before the bombs dropped!” 

“Oh… oh I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to call it trash-” He became flustered with himself, scratching the back of his neck as his face flushed red.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sole laughed quietly. “It does look pretty bad, doesn’t it? We should be able to fix it up, anyway. Nothing’s past saving.”

Travis relaxed in relief when they brushed off his comment and returned a small smile. 

X6-88:

“Mx. Mx!”

They’d taken off without a word after an already pointless mission. Impatience was thrumming across his body, all the way down to his fingertips, which twitched on the handle of his baton. Lips pursed in annoyance, he moved to follow them, taking his time, considering they’d stopped by the time he got moving. Sure, he was going to protect them, but if they were going to get themself into dumb situations by taking off recklessly, they could handle themself until he got there.

Once he’d made his way closer he started looking for what had set them off so badly. He couldn’t see anything of significance amongst the discarded trash. The urge to reprimand them rose in his throat, but he suppressed the insult. “What’s going on?”

“I found it! I can’t believe it’s still here!” They laughed, looking up at him with bright eyes.

When X6-88 looked down he found a tattered, nasty teddy bear looking back at him; seemingly the perfect representation of how he viewed the wasteland. “Mx, I don’t think this is an appropriate use of our time.”

“Six, you don’t understand. This was mine. Before the war.” Their tone pushed him to understand.

He paused. It definitely needed some help, but obviously this was something important that he was somehow struggling to understand. He really wasn’t one for anything sentimental, but he’ found that sometimes entertaining these ideas would play in his favor. This must be one of those times; Sole may get upset if he were to dismiss their determination to make him understand. “I’m sure we have something at the Institute to… repair this.”

[strangeinvader9]

Fire and Ice; Recruiting Bruce

chapter one here: https://www.tumblr.com/strangeinvader9/694878694057099264/fire-and-ice-recruiting-natasha?source=share

At night, a slum in India is attacked by a sickness. A little girl ran into the middle of a makeshift hospital in someone's home, pushing through the crowd frantically. She ran up the steps inside to greet the only doctor.

"What are you doing here?! Get out! You shouldn't be here," an attending woman reprimanded in Hindi.

"I have to see the doctor. It's my father," the girl argued. 

"Calm down. What's wrong?" The doctor, now known as Bruce Banner asked. 

"My father…" she looked to the other sick people, laying down and moaning in pain.

"Is he like them?"

The little girl held out money, crumpled and looking desperate. "Please," she begged.

Banner and the little girl ran quickly to the edge of town. She lead him quickly through narrow passageways, and was proving too fast to keep up with. Banner spotted a nice car, and looked around, worried. He ran into the girls house, when she left through a window, untraceable.

"Should have gotten paid up front, Banner," Bruce chided himself. 

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle." Natasha said,  entering the room behind him, making him turn around.

"Avoiding stress isn't the secret."

"Then, what is it? Yoga?"

"You brought me to the edge of the city, smart. I uh... assume the whole place is surrounded?"

"Just you and me."

"And your actress buddy, is she a spy too? Do they start that young?"

"I did."

"Who are you?"

"Natasha Romanoff."

"Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff? Because that's not gonna work out for everyone."

"No. No. Of course not. I'm here on behalf of SHIELD."

"SHIELD. How did they find me?"

"We never lost you, doctor. We've kept our distance, even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent."

"Why?"

"Nick Fury seems to trust you. But now I need you to come in."

"What if I said no?"

"I'll persuade you."

"And what if the…" Here, Bruce hesitated, unwilling to awaken the Hulk by speaking his name. "other guy says no?"

"You've been more than a year without an incident. I don't think you wanna break that streak."

"I don't always get what I want," he says, gently pushing a cradle that was nearby.

"Doctor, we're facing a potential global catastrophe."

"Well, those I actively try to avoid."

"This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet."

She showed him a photo of the Tesseract on her cell phone.

Banner took a closer look. "What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?"

"Well, he wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be."

"So Fury isn't after the monster?"

"Not that he's told me."

"And he tells you everything?"

"Talk to Fury, he needs you on this."

"He needs me in a cage?"

"No one's gonna put you in a…"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" Banner slammed his fists onto the table, voice deeper and rougher than normal. 

Natasha grabbed a gun hidden under the table, pointing it at him. 

Banner remained still, and grinned at her. "I'm sorry, that was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do. Why don't we do this the easy way, where you don't use that, and the other guy doesn't make a mess? Okay? Natasha…"

Natasha, still wary, didn't lower her gun at first. After a bit,  she lowered her gun and spoke into her earpiece. "Stand down. We're good here."

Two dozen soldiers armed to the teeth had surrounded the small house, but at her signal they backed off a bit.

Bruce smiled back at Natasha, knowing how SHIELD worked. "Just you and me?"

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

anonymous: Am I the only one who really doesn’t like that Meatbun chose to make a member of a brutalized race the villain? I feel like it feeds into that message of revolutionaries who want justice being doomed to be corrupted by the power getting to their heads and turn into evil tyrants.

This is an interesting question anon! Thank you for this ask. 

First of all, I understand completely where you’re coming from. I’m always iffy when a main antagonist is a member of a brutalized, discriminated race whose ultimate goal is to get his/her people to safety. I don’t, as a general rule, sit very comfortably with the antagonist being someone who wants to end discrimination based on race against his/her people, or any people. Like, nope. I’m also extremely leery of that message of “revolutionaries who want social justice go bad”, and my wariness toward seeing a main antagonist with the motivation of ending some kind of oppression is an extension of that. 2ha, to a certain degree, does press those buttons, because just the fact of a member of an oppressed people being in an antagonistic position is... meh. I wish we’d at least seen the perspective of a non-villainous Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast. (Of course, this is just personal taste - others might not feel the same way.) 

However! There’s a reason why that doesn’t turn me off from the story. I would really dislike it if Meatbun made out Shi Mei’s desire to save his people as a bad thing, or if she had that desire gradually be warped into something less sympathetic - say, an appetite for destruction and vengeance. But she didn’t do either of those things, not at all. Although she rightfully condemns the damage he did to innocent people because of that desire, the desire itself is painted in a very sympathetic light. I would go as far as to say that the fact that Hua Binan’s resolve to end the oppression of his people was truly a good thing is why Meatbun gives him such a peaceful send-off despite the many terrible things he’s done. I mean, it’s not peaceful in-universe, since he’s literally squashed, but it’s a dignified death. He’s not crying, or screaming, or having a Villainous Breakdown over the fact that he has to die. Instead he’s... unhesitant in literally defying cosmic laws so that his people can get to safety, and the text is comparing his actions to that of his mother, who sacrificed her life to give him time to escape. (Off on a tangent, but I cannot help but laugh disbelievingly every time I reread Hua Binan’s death. Like, this man said, “Hey guys, I’m going to fight the demon guardian upholding a law of the universe, hold on a minute.” No consideration, no weighing of options, no nothing. Just “That’s what I’m gonna do then!” I mentioned in another post that despite his villainy I cannot help but respect the sheer audacity that Shi Mei has, and... yeah, I’m going to have to admit that the actions Hua Binan took leading up to his death display that same audacity.)

If I was choosing something to contrast the narrative tone of Hua Binan’s death with, I’d bring up Yagami Light, from Death Note. (I’m sticking to manga canon here, not anime.) He’s absolutely losing his composure, unable to face the fact that he’s been defeated and he has to die, and is crawling all over the ground desperately for a way to save himself. He then proceeds to start begging Ryuk to help him, and goes completely ballistic when Ryuk instead writes his name in his Death Note.

Hua Binan goes in almost the exact opposite fashion; he is not losing his composure, he’s unflinching at the knowledge that these actions mean his own death, and he’s not trying to save himself - he’s giving his life to save the other Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts. I mean, he literally keeps holding on despite being in enormous pain to make sure everyone gets through! At no point during his death does the text say or imply that he regrets sacrificing himself for the other Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts. I also really like how there is no thought in his mind as he’s being crushed that isn’t related to his people - most notably there’s nothing about Chu Wanning, whom he is supposedly in love with. I think it’s driving in that Hua Binan’s ultimate priority, despite what kind of feelings he might have towards anyone else, has always been his people. Nothing else will ever matter to him as much as his goal to get the Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts to safety. (Although, mind you, that’s not necessarily a good thing - just look at all the devastation and death he caused in pursuit of that goal.) And like I said, I think that by giving him a heroic death, Meatbun was respecting that, if nothing else, his determination to stop the suffering of his brutalized people was truly genuine, and truly commendable.

That’s what sets this apart, for me, from the message, “Revolutionaries who want to overturn deep-rooted social injustices will go bad because they are corrupted by the power they have.” Hua Binan is not corrupted by power! His desire to save his people never changes, it’s never gradually distorted into something megalomaniacal the way that “cautionary tales” warn us will happen to revolutionaries. It is not the warping of his goal to end an injustice that makes him a villain - because that remains pure and unchanging, from start to finish. Rather, it’s the amount of innocent people he hurt and killed to achieve that goal. The fact that he perpetuates a cycle of abuse - dehumanization and brutalization is what he and his people suffer, and he responds in kind, by creating and executing a master plan hinged on dehumanizing and brutalizing others. That’s what Meatbun is condemning him for, and that’s why he’s the villain. And I really appreciate that she, in my opinion, makes it very clear that his goal itself was and remains a good thing. As mentioned above, the way I see it, the relative dignity of Hua Binan’s death was an acknowledgement the fact that there was nothing inherently wrong with his desire to save his people, that it was in fact a heroic desire. Because of that nuance, I’m not as put off as I usually am at the idea of the main villain being the member of an oppressed race, and I think Meatbun avoided the “cautionary tale” trope of having a revolutionary seeking justice becoming warped with power. 

[yongtxt]

turn back time [taeyong]

word count: 6.2k words

characters: amnesiac!taeyong x girlfriend!reader ft. doyoung

genre: angst [meant to be just melancholic so no crying !]

warnings: few mentions of a car crash and some wounds. taeyong suffers from amnesia.  it’s a couple trying to learn how to love again.

author’s note: yesterday was my first year anniversary here on tumblr and i give you a short angst fic of the first nct member i wrote for as a present. anyway. i need a break from angst after this also i need to stop writing people getting hurt/wounded???? [stream turn back time by wayv later <3] / unedited

Taeyong awoke to harsh fluorescent lighting filling his vision, a throat so dry it could compare to a desert, and the muffled cries of his lover.

His arms ached, muscles extremely sore that it hurt him to even lift his limb. He wanted to reach out to you, to run his fingers through your hair, and to tell you that everything was gonna be okay—he would work it out with you, together.

You had Taeyong’s hospital gown clutched in your hands, soaking the fabric with your weeping. WIth your face buried into his blanket, it took you a second to realize that your boyfriend had already woken up from his deep slumber. Your cheeks flushed at his intense gaze, dropping your hold on him almost immediately as if it was hot to touch.

“You’re awake!” You exclaimed, voice cracking. Fumbling to wipe your tears, you scrambled to your feet. “Let me grab some food, okay? You must be hungry.”

Taeyong did his best to shake his head, “No, you don’t have to. Please just stay beside me.”

A beat passed and you could only stare at him. The hesitance you exuded didn’t pass unnoticed, you sat back on the stool beside him and stayed tight-lipped. Taeyong sighed through his nose, a bubble of nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even look you in the eye, his attention darting everywhere but to you.

“How are you feeling? Do you think you can move better now?” You asked, soft and wary—afraid of what his response would be and he didn’t like the sound of it not one bit, but he didn’t let it show.

“I can move my head better than yesterday.” Taeyong pointed out, craning his neck enough to prove it to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your face and his chest floods with an unfamiliar warmth. He added, “My joints just hurt since I’m kept on bed rest all day.”

“Well, you’re getting released tomorrow.” You said, subconsciously outstretching your hand to brush off the fallen lock of his hair from his forehead. He blushed at the contact of your fingertips and you immediately retracted it back. “Uh, your doctor wanted me to tell you that you should start walking around again if you can to avoid using crutches.”

“I’ll try to go for a walk tonight.” He nodded his head, staring at his lap as if it was the most fascinating thing in the room. “Can you help me drink some water?”

“I’m sorry, of course.” Your cheeks reddened the same way his were, fumbling to punch in a straw inside a bottle of water as you propped it up for him to sip on. Of course he was thirsty, he had been asleep for almost half the day.

Your fingers were trembling, he noticed. Before he could point it out, the door slammed open and you were forced to draw away his drink. You haven’t been told of anyone visiting so it came as a surprise to see your boyfriend’s childhood best friend panting in the doorway, holding himself up on the frame while he gawked at Taeyong’s wounded form.

Bruises of varying sizes littered across Taeyong’s pale skin and a bandage was wrapped around his forehead, his bleached hair peeking out from the bloodied cloth. A large gash can be seen trailing along his jawline and although it had been healing nicely, a mark remained. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken from fatigue and a lack of nutritional intake, much like you.

He didn’t look well, Doyoung thought with a pitiful gaze Taeyong was already too familiar with.

“Aren’t you gonna come in?” Taeyong chuckled, grinning at Doyoung who frowned at him. He rushed to his side and mindlessly took him into an embrace, cradling his bandaged head into his shoulder. You felt hot tears pool into the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away before they could see.

He berated him, the way he always would when Taeyong got himself into trouble that could’ve been easily avoided if he would just think straight. The blizzard, Doyoung kept bringing it up, he shouldn’t have driven when the weather was too dangerous.

“I’ll try to remember that next time.” Taeyong said, reassuring him before Doyoung could burst into tears. He wouldn’t know how to handle him if he got too emotional, he doubted you’d be able to.

“Why were you driving, anyway? What was so important that you had to risk your life to travel?” Doyoung huffed and you rose from your seat from instinct, about to insert yourself into their conversation when Taeyong grasped your fingers.

You stared at him and you were suddenly reminded that he must’ve put himself in pain to stop you. You sat back down and he smiled, he wanted to say it himself and you could only respect his wishes. You hadn’t been able to inform Taeyong’s friends about his car crash as it had been only a week since it happened, all of your time was spent tirelessly tending him back to health. You didn’t have the time to share the unfortunate news.

“Apparently, I was on my way back to Seoul from visiting my family.” Taeyong said, gently grazing your skin away from his best friend’s sight. At Doyoung's confused knot on his forehead, he continued, “My mom told me that they couldn’t make me stay because it was the night of my anniversary with my girlfriend.”

“Taeyong, why are you talking like that—”

“The doctor said I hit my head on the steering wheel pretty badly.” Taeyong laughed mirthlessly, and you subconsciously squeezed his hand. “Bad enough that my memory got a bit fuzzy. Retrograde amnesia, I think that’s what they called it.”

Doyoung blinked, lips gaped at Taeyong who only smiled at him. He looked up at you, a sudden onslaught of anxiety coursing through him that you could just see him almost shake in worry. He whispered to you, “Amnesia? How far back can he remember?”

You bit your lip, turning away and loosening the grip you had on Taeyong’s hand, but he held it tighter with a strength you were sure he was only forcing. You said, “The beginning of third year in college.”

“What?!” Doyoung choked on his spit, leaping from his seat in shock. You offered him an unopened bottle of water but he shook his head. “You’re already a working man, Taeyong! We graduated two years ago, man!”

You did your best to calm Doyoung down, much to Taeyong’s appreciation. You knew where his emotions were coming from so you had to explain why it happened in a manner he would understand. You said that the blizzard was so strong that the roads had iced up and due to the speed he was driving, the car had slipped and crashed into a tree. He hit his head and the sheer impact caused trauma to his brain and made him lose his memories.

The doctors diagnosed him with retrograde amnesia, a form of memory loss that occurs from a traumatic brain injury. It prevented Taeyong from remembering what happened prior to his accident. His recovery was supposed to be gradual, it will take time for him to regain the memories he had lost but it wasn’t assured.

Taeyong doesn’t like telling what happened because people’s first reaction to his amnesia was to resort to aggression. As if their anger and frustration could magically make him remember what he had lost. You didn’t think of it that way, on one quiet night you told him that maybe it was just their desperation to bring him back to the person he was.

He thought it was selfish of them, but you kept your lips shut and refused to tell him that losing two years was a big deal to some people. Although he was still himself, quirks and habits are the same as you’ve first witnessed them, little aspects of him were different; some just different enough that others would do a doubletake to make sure it was really him. The person he is now just wasn’t exactly the person he used to be.

A slightly-off Taeyong, he grimly made a joke about.

You wanted to reassure him, comfort him that he didn’t need to try so hard to be who he used to be. You know despite all of his nonchalance and soft smiles, he was hurting. He instilled it in himself that he disappointed his loved ones by being a person they weren’t accustomed to. But you couldn’t, you weren’t in the place to when his last memories of you were when you have only first met during the anthropology class in your third year of college.

“God, that means you can’t even remember your own girlfriend.” Doyoung mumbled, mostly to himself but you heard it clearly enough as if he personally made it a point to stomp on your heart. Taeyong frowned.

“Shut it, Doyoung.” You grumbled, tears threatening to spill again. You and Taeyong have been so emotionally exhausted that having another person in the hospital room usually would lift both of your spirits, but Doyoung proved himself to be a disturbance instead.

Hours were spent lounging around with Doyoung talking Taeyong’s ears off with stories that he had missed in the past two years, how he was the one who had forced him into the class he shared with you and how coerced him into asking you out before he graduated; a bunch of stories that it almost made Taeyong wish that everything could just go back to the way it was.

He wasn’t the Taeyong they speak so fondly off, he was merely just the shell of him. Still, Doyoung had brought out a smile that you had been unable to make and for that, Taeyong gave him his thanks. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and sniffled.

Doyoung left not too long after, but he promised to visit soon. He knew you needed the support. You were left alone with your boyfriend again and the silence envelops you whole. When you excused yourself to grab a much-needed coffee, Taeyong sank to the hospital bed and succumbed to his tears.

This was his last night in the hospital and it had felt like the longest. He was out like a light but you stilled in your chair beside his bed, fumbling with the ends of his blanket in worry of tomorrow. Not much had progressed in your relationship with him. He was still embarrassed, timid in how he acted around you. You asked if he wanted to go home with you and he reassured you that he would be fine with it, but the panic you felt was still prominent.

Morning came and after what seemed like hours of finishing what was left of Taeyong’s documents in the hospital, it was time to finally leave. You hailed a taxi and you couldn’t help but notice your boyfriend’s sudden rigidness inside the vehicle. Swallowing your reluctance, you took his hand and forced his attention on you throughout the entire drive. He was thankful that you were able to distract him.

The apartment you shared with Taeyong was small but humble, the third unit in an old building that you swore was built in an era before the current. Thin walls and a poorly constructed floor, it was all both of you could afford when you’ve decided to move in together fresh out of college. Despite its imperfections, it was home as long as you had him with you.

With the creaky sounds your front door made, you heard the familiar sound of soft thudding of feet run across the wooden floors to welcome your arrival. Your heart leaped at the sight of Lala, the three-year-old Labrador you adopted with Taeyong, bolting towards your direction with her tongue sticking out.

Taeyong trailed behind you, drinking the place in. His gaze kept on darting from one place to another, his lips parted in amazement at the thought that he really had the courage to move out of his parents’ house to live with his girlfriend. It looked lived in, bits of his and your personalities showing in the way it was decorated and cluttered. The clashing of color schemes and wood tones almost made him want to laugh over how it was clearly furnished purely on indecision and compromise.

He was too busy familiarizing himself to notice that Lala had jumped on him. Your heart squeezed at the sight.

You crouched down to your knees, reaching over to scratch the back of Lala’s ear. You chuckled at Taeyong’s confusion on how to approach the hyperactive puppy, “Her name is Lala, she’s three years old. We adopted her on your birthday last year.”

Taeyong nodded with widened eyes, getting down to your level to attempt to pet her. He commented offhandedly, “Good girl, Lala.”

“She definitely prefers you over me, too.” You mumbled, watching Lala cave into Taeyong’s touch. She hadn’t seen him in a while so you wondered if her attachment to him would waver but it seemed to only grow stronger, the same way you were with your boyfriend. “I had my friend take care of her while we were gone.”

Taeyong kept his quiet and you swallowed the lump in your throat. His doctor told you to treat him especially kindly since he was in a vulnerable state, but you should instill a sense of normalcy. You were instructed to treat him as you normally would, he needed to be reminded of the lifestyle he used to have little by little.

The idea of having to consume copious amounts of medicines every day was already exhausting and gruesome, he even had the bandage around his head to deal with. He had a lot on his plate, you wouldn’t dare add to it by pressuring him to become the adult he doesn’t remember that he was. In his mind, he was still twenty years old and was living in a rickety dorm with Doyoung; it will surely take time for him to grow out of it.

You told Taeyong to go sit down on the stool across the island, to make himself comfortable while you prepared dinner—attempt to prepare dinner. Racking all the recipes his mother had taught you over the years, you wanted to cook a meal he would enjoy and reminisce over.

“Doyoung told me you didn’t like cooking very much.” You heard Taeyong’s voice said, a voice free of malice and full of genuine interest. He said, “It makes sense that I should be the one making food for us right now. You know, for all the trouble I’ve caused you the past week.”

You shook your head firmly, turning around so your back faced him. You didn’t want to let him see your ever-growing frown. You sighed, “Don’t worry, I can handle this. Do you want some coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.” He mumbled, pressing his cheek against the palm of his hand. He wished he could do more for you, but you weren’t letting him; you had your wall up as high as he had his.

Shuffling to where your coffee maker was, you quickly fixed a cup of coffee for him as if you moved purely on instinct. Taeyong watched you in amusement as you slid a blue mug to his way. The paint of its design was chipping off the edges and it had a small crack on the handle, it definitely had seen better days but he felt oddly drawn to it.

You saw him eyeing it out and you chuckled, “We went out on a pottery class for a date once and I made that mug for you. You refused to drink coffee without it, but I think it’s time for us to throw it out and buy you a better one.”

“No!” Taeyong interjected almost immediately, waving his hands to dismiss your idea. “I like it. We’re keeping it.”

Your chest ached, but you were unable to pinpoint the feeling that made it so, “If you say so.”

Taeyong was a picky man when it came to his coffee. He wasn’t an avid drinker of dark and rich brews, often preferred the sweeter and creamier side of the spectrum. The drink you made for him tasted just right, the perfect balance, and he was overwhelmed with gratitude. It made him laugh, how his taste in college didn’t seem to change in his twenty-three-year-old body.

“You can go look around while I cook.” You remarked, jutting your chin towards the rest of the apartment that he has yet to see as you run your hands under the running water. He followed your gaze and shook his head. You quirk an eyebrow, “You sure? It’ll take a bit before these noodles cook.”

Lala encircled his feet before cozying herself on top of his shoes, refusing to leave his sight. He laughed, bending down to pick her up and place her onto his lap. With his hands deep into the puppy’s golden fur, he asked, “Is Lala supposed to be a reference to the Teletubbies?”

You turned the stove on and plopped in the boxed pasta you retrieved from the pantry, “Your nephew loved the Teletubbies at some point so we made him name her.”

A visible twinkle appeared in Taeyong’s eye at the mention of his nephew. He’d only seen photos of him recently, the last he remembered of him was that he was only an infant cradled in his sister’s arms. And as if a barrier was put down, he asked if you could tell him more about what he had missed in his personal life. If Taeyong from the past trusted you enough to move in and adopt a dog together⁠—which he couldn’t believe he was able to do in college, he had to trust you, too.

You gladly entertained his curiosities while you prepared a mediocre version of his mother’s Jajangmyeon. As obscure some of his questions were, you were as honest as you could be. From how he managed to pass his senior year to how he got the job at his company, he asked it all while stuffing his face with dark noodles.

In your eyes, he looked like a kid who wanted to know what his older brother did, to follow in his footsteps and be just like him. He wanted to absorb so much information, it almost pained you to look at him listening to you with an expression so clearly resembling envy.

He cut you off and called out to you with a voice lower than before, sadder but still hesitant. You glanced at him in worry that you were rambling too much. He averted his attention away from you, “You’re crying.”

Raising a hand to your cheek, it was wet. You coughed in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He mumbled, meekly offering his half-empty drink to you.

You hopped out of your seat beside him, carrying your empty bowl to the sink. You stayed a bit longer away from his line of view, wanting to keep your emotions in check for Taeyong’s first night back in the apartment. You didn’t want to scare him away, he was getting more comfortable and you succumbing to your feelings would ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.

You turned the tap on and cracked your neck, “I’ll clean up here while you can go take a bath. The bathroom is next to the bedroom.”

He let out a breath and nodded, lingering for a moment before ultimately deciding that it would be best to leave you be. He didn’t know how he could comfort you when he was the reason for your distress, it would only hurt you more if he tried to console you of things he didn’t know of.

He spotted a box on the coffee table on his way to the bathroom, a bright red box with doodles scribbled onto its sides. Glancing at you, he was about to ask what it was inside when he clamped his mouth shut. He sat down on the couch and let his curiosity get the best of him, reaching to fiddle with the latch that sealed it closed.

Inside were piles of polaroid films, photos were not only of you and him but also of his friends from college and people he had yet to remember. An assortment of knickknacks filled it to its brim, variations of trinkets that included movie tickets and receipts. It was a box made to help Taeyong remember the memories he had lost, the connections he had with people that he had forgotten.

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek, it must’ve been your doing. You probably asked around for others to help assemble the box, his heart swelled at the thought. You were working hard to make himself and his environment feel normal after losing a good chunk of his memories, he had to work hard as well.

His fists were shaking, his knuckles turning a shade paler than it already was. Lala snaked into the crook of his arm and whimpered at her owner’s change of composure. He laughed humorlessly, scratching her belly in appreciation.

Shutting the box closed, he sighed. He made his way towards the unfamiliar bathroom and filled the tub. Doyoung always told him that a bath could melt all of his troubles away, and how he wished it was that easy.

Taeyong came out of his long bath with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, blushing as he hastily pulled on the clothes you had prepared for him in the bedroom. You remained unfazed as you waited for him in a change of sleepwear, he realized that you might’ve already seen him naked before and the thought of it only worsened the state of his cheeks. He perched on the edge of the bed once he was finished.

You grabbed his ointment and attended to the injury on the side of his head, a gash that the doctors had sewn back together. You had a light hand, he noted, but the ache persisted. It burned when the tip of its applicator grazed along the stitches. He reached out to toy with the hem of your shirt, to divert his attention from the pain. You wrapped a bandage around his head as quickly as you could.

You mumbled, “It’s all done.”

“Thank you.” He smiled up at you and you returned it halfheartedly. “Let’s go to sleep, yeah? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, don’t! This bed is yours, too.” You said, holding onto his wrists before he could make a home on your busted couch that functioned as Lala’s chew toy half the time. “I know how much your back hurts because of the hospital bed so please, sleep here.”

Taeyong looked at you with a conflicted expression on his face but after seconds of contemplation and mental debate, he relented only if you’d use the bed as well. You sighed and caved in.

He crawled to his side of the bed, making you wonder if there was an inkling of a chance that he remembered how much he preferred his half that faced the windows. You shuffled to your side, mindful to not cross any boundaries. This would be his first time sleeping next to you and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable by being too close for comfort.

You switched to your side, away from his sight. The awkwardness was suffocating you, it seemed like you were the only one affected by it because soon you felt his side dip as he made himself more comfortable while you were frozen like a statue. You were nearing the edge of the bed, so far the end that one wrong move would make you fall out of it.

“Taeyong, are you asleep?” After an hour of silence, you spoke up but in hopes that he was already sleeping.

Unfortunately for you, he hummed in response. You could feel the blankets shift, making it known that he was facing your direction now that you’ve called him. At your lack of reply, he must’ve thought you didn’t hear him so he cleared his throat, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, look. I just want to say that if you want to break up with me, I’ll understand.”

“What?” He slowly sat up in confusion, hefting himself up with his elbows. You refused to look at him, gnawing on your lips and your eyes squeezed shut as if you were a kid caught by your parents awake past your bedtime.

“This situation we’re in, you don’t have to force yourself to be with me if you don’t want to.” You managed to choke out, choosing your words carefully. “I want you to continue living who you are now, I’ll just hinder you from moving on if I only remind you of the memories you lost.”

He called out your name, much sterner and different from the gentle tone he always used on you. You were suffering worse than he was, that he knew, but he didn’t know just how much until you’ve finally cracked—the insecurities and worries you’ve hidden from him, pouring out all at once and he didn’t know what to do with it.

You were sobbing into the sheets and he could only rub circles onto your back as a failed attempt at comfort. He wanted to tell you so many things, to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking the way you assumed he would be.

Taeyong thought of you so highly. You were someone who carried all of his burdens and stories that made him the person that he was, someone who had so much love for him despite not having it reciprocated back, someone who just wanted him to forgive himself for not being who he was and to start living again. You weren’t just some stranger to him, but the world had robbed him of you.

He ignored his hesitance and whispered under the blanket of the night, “You might’ve lost the Taeyong that you love but I promise I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that I’m worthy of the same love you’ve once given to me.”

“Taeyong—”

“It’ll take some time and I can’t assure you that things will be the same as it was but I swear, I will never forget you again and we’ll be happy.”

There were a lot of things to do, but none of those things were as important to him as lying here next to you, to pick up what remained of you from his ruins. He knew full well that he wasn’t the only victim. He was aware that you were also trying your best for him, to hold onto what’s left of the pieces you used to love about him.

“I really want this to work out.” You admitted amid your hiccups and sniffles, his heart broke at the sound of it. “I know I haven’t lost you yet.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” He mumbled, running his nimble fingers through the locks of your hair as a serene silence filled the room as you didn’t say anything back. After a week of being in the hospital, your heavy breathing was enough to lull him into his sleep.

You glanced at him for the first time since you had laid down, observing his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. A small smile appeared on your face, he looked tired even though he was already deep in his sleep. You whispered in the dark, “Sleep tight, Taeyong.”

The cold of the night renders you restless once again, your eyes brimming with a bright red hue and utter exhaustion. You swung your legs to the side of the bed, careful enough to not wake your boyfriend who was already asleep. His gentle snores filled the room and you made your way towards the balcony connected to the bedroom with your phone in hand and a blanket draped around your shoulders.

It was another starless sky, you looked up and the absence of the twinkling lights comforted you. You pulled on the blanket closer as you fiddled on your phone, tapping on an option that directed you to a phone call.

“Don’t you know that it’s two in the fucking morning? What do you want?” Doyoung’s voice replaced the monotonous ringing, sounding raspy from what you assumed was his sleep.

“I wanted someone to talk to.” It was your honest answer and you knew he wouldn’t judge you for it.

He yawned, and for a moment you felt a twinge of guilt but it dissipated the second after, “How is Taeyong doing? You brought him back home earlier, right?”

“He’s okay. He’s passed out on the bed right now.” You said, stealing a glance at where Taeyong was sprawled across the bed. A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips, you haven't seen him more at peace. “It kinda sucks, you know? I want to be strong for him but I don’t know how long I will last.”

“You love him, right?”

“I do. So much.”

“Then just be patient, please. You’re the only person he can truly rely on right now.” Doyoung sounded like he was almost pleading with you, entrusting his best friend to you for a second time with the first was when you agreed to be Taeyong’s girlfriend. He said, “The love you shared is very strong, it conquered many hurdles and it will overcome this.”

You nodded your head, but you remembered Doyoung couldn’t see you. You whispered, “I’m scared, Doyoung.”

“Of?” He asked as quietly as you were being as if you wanted the conversation to only be a secret between each other.

“What if he never loves me again?” Your nail was shoved in between your teeth, your leg anxiously bouncing against the floor. It was a thought that had flitted about your mind but you have shoved it so far back in an attempt to ignore it but it demanded your attention, to face its possibility.

He scoffed at the other end of the line, “It’s Taeyong we’re talking about here. If he could fall in love at his first sight of you in college, he could easily do it again.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Thanks, Doyoung. I needed that.”

“Alright, good night. Take care of yourself.” He said, dropping the call when you didn’t return his farewell.

You bent over the railing, tilting your chin up to face the night sky once more. You scoured the endless dark for even just a glimpse of a shooting star, for a chance to wish upon the universe to end this nightmare of yours. Your boyfriend was right there with you, but you have never felt more lonely.

Shutting your eyes closed, you let out another sigh. You were so tired of crying but it felt like the only thing you could do. You wondered just how much an average person could cry, maybe you’ve exceeded their record.

You left the balcony not too long after, padding back to the bed with a heavier heart. You sat on your side and twisted your body to face Taeyong. His mouth was parted and his cheek was pressed onto the pillow he held onto, a chuckle rolled off your tongue. Before you could even think of stopping yourself, you leaned onto him and placed a kiss onto his forehead.

A familiar heat rises to your neck at what you have done, you jumped from where you sat and raised a hand to your lips as if you’ve been burnt. You hadn’t been this intimate to him since the accident happened.

You grabbed your blanket and bolted to the living room, making do with the couch for the rest of the night as you forced yourself to sleep. Lala sleepily watched you in confusion.

Days passed and things have gone relatively the same as the first time Taeyong returned from the hospital, but you noticed the tension has lifted ever-so-slightly. You finally stopped crying yourself to sleep and eventually he has grown enough courage enough to express his affection—discreetly holding your hand and tugging you into his arms late at night to cuddle.

He was forced to stay at home for the remainder of the month while he recuperated, family and friends have visited from time to time to keep him company while you returned to your job. All the stories he’d heard about the two years he’d forgotten about, all of them were linked to you one way or another and it sparked a familiar surge of jealousy he had over his own self; that his past self made so many good memories with you that he could not never experience again.

His feelings for you were growing steadily, dare he said that he may have grown a crush on you. He could never admit it aloud for how pathetic it was, to have a crush on your own girlfriend. But it was your soft hair, your gentle hands, and your never-ending love and patience for him—these were some of the things he could not believe he had forgotten the existence of, how loved it made him feel, and he was ready to drown himself in it again.

Taeyong received a package when you were still at work one day, the label of his hometown address stamped at the right-hand corner indicated that it was from his parents. He ripped off the packaging tape with Lala nuzzling into his side.

He looked inside and saw his luggage. When he was rushed in an ambulance after his crash, his parents were the firsts to arrive at the hospital so the nurses had entrusted to them his belongings that were found in the wreckage. They failed to return it to him once he regained his consciousness as they hurried home soon after you had arrived, unable to stay much longer for personal matters.

He supposed that he only had clothes in it for he was told that he came from his hometown for a week-long visit. Rummaging through his clothes, he was surprised to see a velvet box hidden underneath the pile.

He took it out and gaped at it with owl-like eyes, he fumbled to flip it open. A shiny sparkle of a diamond reflected a faint rainbow from the sunlight that poured from the nearby window, he stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Chuckling softly, he held the engagement ring close to his chest with a newfound source of encouragement.

You returned home that day to a romantic dinner. Candles of different scents were lit up and a torn picnic blanket covered the dining table, you took off your shoes and followed the scent of your boyfriend’s familiar cooking and spotted him in the kitchen. He donned a suit but he had on an apron to protect his front, busy with whatever meal he was preparing to see you peeking in from the doorframe.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and Taeyong swore you had on the brightest smile that he had seen in a while.

He turned off the stove and threw aside his apron, he strode his way to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed his chin on top of your head and said, “I want to get to know you better.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I want to take you out on a first date—well, not out out, but you get what I mean.”

You giggled, pressing your cheek against his chest but you suddenly drew back, the worried expression you had taking him by surprise. Raising a hand to his forehead, you asked, “Your heart is beating really fast. Are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

He stared at you incredulously before bellowing a laugh, a hearty laugh you’ve never heard before. Shaking his head, a small hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He gently pried off your hand from his face and placed a kiss onto the back of your hand. He said, “I’m okay now.”

You were unconvinced that he was, but his sudden affection made it easy for you to ignore it. He leaned down and stole a chaste peck onto your reddened cheek. He put his hand inside the pocket of his suit and nervously fiddled with the velvet box.

Taeyong lost so much of his memories, but he was ready to make new ones as long as he was with you. He will learn to love you again as much as he did before, if not more as long as the universe allowed his heart to.

[elenamiria]

New in Town

Cobb Vanth x Reader

Summary: You, a new resident in Mos Pelgo, gets to know the Marshal over a drink and it turns into something more.

Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: Slight hurt/comfort, smut, fem reader, slight authority kink, pet names, unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie

Masterlist & Tags (Tagging my normal peeps, no pressure to read if you’re not into Cobb!): @anakinswhore​ @a-dorin​ @fishswimbetterunderwater​ @blxwjobsforclones​ @lynnie51​ @katrynec​ @mistermiraclee​

“Well hello there Marshal.” You drawled, standing up straight from where you had been lounging against the bar. The man who was confidently striding into the cantina faltered at your voice and his eyes darted around the empty bar. You shot him a friendly smile, putting down the glass you had been cleaning and holding a hand out to invite him towards you. He shot you a wary glance before his face cracked into a charming lopsided smile, “Do I know you?”

You laughed and shook your head, “Nah I doubt you do, I’m your newest resident.”

At this the Marshal’s posture relaxed slightly as he took several long strides over to you, your eyes taking in his appearance before tossing your towel over your shoulder and laying your hands on the counter. You were about to ask what you could get him but he beat you to the punch.

“I’ll take a snort of spotchka, and does the new resident have a name?”

You nodded at him and properly introduced yourself as you fetched his drink, pouring the bright blue liquid easily. The marshal took it from you gratefully, taking a deep drink before sighing wearily. His smile covered his face again as he spoke, “Cobb Vanth, I’m the Marshal around here but you seem to know that already.”

“Right. That must’ve seemed strange. The Weequay mentioned that you’d probably be in, that you’re here most days anymore. Didn’t elaborate on what that meant but he gave me your description.” You ended with an awkward smile, your new boss had seemed almost rueful at the Marshal’s habits. Your suspicions that this was a newer behavior, one not in character for the man that you had only just met were confirmed when Cobb shifted in his seat, pointedly avoiding eye contact, and his fingers curled tightly around his drink. You allowed your gaze to linger on the silver haired man and eventually your eyes locked as his gaze darted back to your face before nervously scampering away like a scared Scurrier. A long sigh slid from his mouth in such a familiar fashion that you knew something as heavy as the baggage you brought with you must be weighing on his mind. Your head tilted in intrigue and just as you were about to admit defeat his deep brown eyes slid to meet yours. There was a weariness there as he finally spoke, “The village, they treat me differently since I gave up my armor.”

When he trailed off a slight frown covered your face, his gaze had once again slid from your face during his short sentence but it flitted back to you once more. He was searching for something but you couldn't be sure what, you had a fairly good guess though - validation. Having come from the Cantina at Mos Eisley you had seen your fair share of men who came to drink their fears away and you had gotten good at reading people, not that the skill had helped when you truly needed it but it served you well enough for your occupation. With your guess in mind you smiled at Cobb sweetly, “Really? You could’ve fooled me, strolling in here so confident you could have convinced me you own the place if I hadn’t met my boss yesterday.”

He laughed at this, a light sound that brought a wide grin to your face - a sound that if you weren't careful you could find yourself craving, "Really? Maybe I don't know my own power."

Cobb said this lightly, as a joke, but your smile softened and the words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, "Maybe you don't."

His eyes locked with yours and you felt heat rising in your cheeks as something changed in his gaze, he sat up a little taller as you broke the connection between the two of you. Your gaze darted to the ground before you cleared your throat and just as you were about to leave the Marshal in peace he spoke again.

"I'm afraid they don't think I'll be able to protect them without the armor. But I'm still me and I'd still lay down my life for these people, they're my family. It's just....it's not easy knowing that they don't see me the same as before." His words were steady and strong now as if he had been holding this back for some time and you sure he had, no one to talk to but the very people unknowingly causing his distress. At his words you let a gentle smirk cover your face as you leaned lazily on the bar separating the two of you, something in the air had shifted a palpable tension having appeared, you could tell he'd hit his stride and you were more than willing to take a leap to see where this could take you. With that in mind you spoke, “Well I’d trust you to protect me just like that, no armor needed, if that means anything Marshal.”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip and it was only then that you realized just how far over the bar you were leaning, your elbows planted firmly. You didn’t miss the way Cobb’s dark brown eyes focused on your lips for just a split second, settling on your mischievous gaze as he breathed out, “Is that so, darlin’?”

You wanted to kiss him though your brain chided your impulsiveness but when his eyes were once again drawn to your lips you banished any hesitation. Lithe fingers grasped Cobb’s bandanna and tugged, bringing his mouth crashing into yours. In an instant the Marshal was out of his seat, leaning into you as his mouth worked against yours furiously and you knew he must have felt the same spark that you did. Embers lighting deep within you had your lips eagerly parting for his tongue to roam your mouth while his hands cupped your face so he could deepen the already intense kiss. Your hands came to grab at his arms, nails digging into the red fabric of his shirt as he left you breathless. When the two of you parted you panted as you tried to convince yourself that the spontaneous kiss had actually just happened and Cobb leaned back just a fraction as a coy smile covered his face. Roles reversed now as your eyes darted to his lips, your breath hitched as you backed away scrambling towards the door. Cobb's eyes widened in bewilderment and you nearly laughed as you turned back to see him, "Close the door if you will."

At your order his eyes lit up as he moved as quickly as you did to the entrance of the bar in order to close the near permanently open door to the cantina while you locked the worker entrance. By the time he had turned back towards you you had climbed onto the counter in order to move towards him. Once you were near the edge of the counter you allowed your legs to dangle over the side, as Cobb reached you again he firmly grasped your knees and tugged you forwards, slotting your hips together. It was seconds before your mouths were melding together again and your arms flung around his shoulders to pull him as close as possible. He must have been feeling as desperate as you were, his hands grabbed your hips to press your curves into him. A whimper slid from your mouth as your clothed cunt pressed against something decidedly hard. You gave a tentative roll of your hips and as Cobb pulled apart to moan your name softly you knew exactly what was pressing into you.

A throaty giggle left you as you teased, "Now Marshal is that a blaster or are you just that happy to see me."

He groaned at your cheesy line before growling out a 'c'mere' and one hand cupping your cheek to pull you into another fiery kiss. His bead scratched at your face in a way that had your fingers digging into his shoulders. Your hips rolled against his again and you were rewarded with another moan. Nipping at his bottom lip your fingers slid up to bury in the short hairs at the back of his head tugging lightly. Cobb broke apart from you once again as he shook his head a smirk on his face, "Darlin' if you keep teasing me like that I'm not gonna be able to hold back."

Your eyelashes fluttered as you smiled, "Well Marshal, I did have you close that door for a reason."

His breath hitched at both you calling him by his title and your admission but as you headed in for another kiss he pulled back slightly, "I need to hear you say it darlin', do you want me to fuck you?"

Your lips parted at his words and you nodded, "Yes. Cobb I want you to fuck me, please."

A positively devious smirk covered his face as he grasped your chin lightly, "That's Marshal to you sweetheart."

Your moan was wild and uncontained at Cobb's dominant words and as he captured your lips once more his hands were working at your pants. As he undid your belt and tugged down the zipper you lifted your hips enough that he could pull the pants and underwear off your legs. His bare fingers met your slick pussy, slipping into your folds easily. Pulling back Cobb groaned, "All this just for me darlin'?"

You gasped as a finger sunk into your drenched cunt and started pumping slowly, "It's all for you Marshal, just for you."

Head flying back as another finger sunk into your folds you keened as his pace sped up burying his fingers deep within you, stretching and teasing while your hips bucked. You leaned back, arms supporting you, as your legs spread for him granting easier access to where you so desperately craved contact. Your wetness gleamed in the light of the cantina and a deep growl left Cobb's chest as he hissed out, "You look absolutely delicious sweetheart and I promise you I'll taste you sometime soon but right now darlin'? Right now, I need to be inside this tight little cunt."

When his fingers pulled from your depths you whined in disappointment but as his fingers fumbled and tore at his clothing in order to pull his aching cock out your whine morohed into an eager moan. One of his hands landed on your hip again, steadying you against the counter, as his other hand guided his dick slowly through your folds. You cried out as his tip prodded at your clit while your cunt soaked him in your fluids and your walls fluttered when he lined himself up at your entrance. Biting your lip your gaze slid up to meet his brown eyes, shining with want and need, "Are you ready for me?"

His tone was gentle and sweet, something that had your walls fluttering as you nodded to him simpering out, "Yes, Marshal."

Slowly he pushed his hips forward, spearing you onto his length and sliding into your depths. A whimper flew from your throat as your walls clenched around him despite such little stimulation, the feeling of him filling you completely had you struck dumb at just how deep his cock reached. As he settled, hips pressed together, his hand slid up your body to stroke your face softly and he waited for your indication that he could move. When it became too much to bear you nodded at him whispering out a soft plea for him to move, to fuck you. He obliged and his pace started slow, his cock dragging in and out against your walls. Your eyelids drooped as you watched his hips and cock slide back and forth, coming out a little wetter each time. Breathing hitching you gasped out, "More, please I need more Marshal!"

Cobb's hands grasped your waist as his hips sped up, a slapping noise filling the air on each thrust, his cock pressing deeper and deeper into you. Your mouth fell open as he hit something inside of you that had you moaning, a pleased grunt left his throat at your pleasure and he endeavored to hit that same little spot over and over again. You swore as your head fell back unable to deal with the combination of watching his length disappear into you and the bliss you were feeling. Cobb sped up as he hissed out, "Fuck darlin' I'm not gonna last very long in this perfect pussy."

A hand left your hip as his fingers sought out your clit and once he did he was rubbing and circling it like he had known your body for years, finding the perfect patterns that had your legs tensing as your orgasm approached. You whimpered out his name as your walls clenched around him and he nodded, pressing even deeper in you to lean over your body to reach your lips.

Mouths collided in a swirl of tongues and teeth as you desperately chased your release, he pulled away from you to nip and bite at your neck. As he hit your sweet spot a particularly deep thrust swept you over the edge, his teeth clamping down on your neck as your walls tightened around his length. You practically screamed out his name as you came, pleasure from all the different stimuli - his cock, his fingers, his mouth - overwhelmed your senses and you drowned in him. You whined as your whole body tensed, Cobb's cock still pumping into your steadily as he worked you through your orgasm, pussy clenching and clinging to him. For a brief moment your vision went white as his fingers continued to swirl around your clit, when you gasped out his name he lightened the pressure eventually pulling his fingers away completely. Gasping and panting as you came down you became vaguely aware of his other hand stroking your cheek softly and a voice cooing, "That's it sweet girl, so good for me."

Trembling you leaned your head into his hand and shot him a sweet smile. Cobb's pace sped up again as you recovered, chasing his own release. You were sure you looked a mess but the Marshal stared down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, lips parted and eyes hazy from your height of pleasure. It wasn't long before Cobb was grunting and panting out, "Where do you want me to cum sweetheart?"

Your cunt clenched at his words and a soft whimper flew from your lips, "Fuck, inside, I'm safe. Please fill me up Marshal, I wanna feel you inside me for the rest of the day."

That pushed Cobb over the edge as he whined out your name, hips stuttering. His cum painted your walls, doing as you asked and filling you up. You sat up straighter as he slowly pumped into you, steadying yourself with one hand and the other hand grasping the back of his neck. Pulling him into a sensual kiss you rolled your hips lightly helping him ride out his orgasm like he helped you. When you finally let your hips settle you broke apart, keeping your forehead lightly pressed to his.

Cobb laughed lightly as you both sat there for a moment recovering, after a second he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away. You whimpered slightly at the loss before sliding off the counter to re-dress yourself while he did the same. Unable to help yourself you teasingly spoke once again, "So is that how you greet all your new residents Marshal or am I just lucky?"

Another delightful laugh met your ears as Cobb smiled at you before resting his hands on your now clothed hips, "Oh no sweet girl, just you. Only you."

His words sent a thrilled hum through you a grin covered your face, though moments later when the Marshal took off his bandanna you shot him a confused look.

"I left uhm quite a mark on your neck so I think you might need this more than I do right now darlin'." He rumbled as he tied it around your neck and positioning it to cover the hickey on your throat. He cleared his throat after a moment of you two staring at each other, "I hate to leave but I do have a job to be getting to and I believe you are actively working right now."

Your heart sank slightly at his words and as he awkwardly turned to head towards the door you panicked slightly. The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think anything of them, "I'm off in a few hours and you'll need your bandanna back so maybe you could come by? We could get a drink together?"

Cobb froze and turned back towards you, the slight fear that had been gripping you was completely dissipated by his grin, "Like a date?"

Floundering at his words slightly you stuttered out a few sentence starters ("Well- I- Uhm-") before he spoke again, his words sending your heart soaring, “You got it, darlin’. It's a date. ”

[reinvent-and-believe]

Dialogue prompt 42. "I'm only here to establish an alibi." Lambert/Aiden :) May the inspiration fairy visit you!!

It’s been a shit night. A shit night, a shit week, a shit month.

The rain that’s started up again every time he finally managed to get dry from the last round for the past three days has turned torrential, and between the thunder and the fucking hail Lambert’s not quite stubborn enough to try to ride through it. So he sits in a shitty inn still a day’s ride from Ellander, drinking shitty overpriced ale and ignoring the stares from shitty villagers who whisper to each other with their eyes glued on him. He’s too far from the fire for any hope of it drying out his soaking layers of clothes and armor, and he doesn’t have the coin to manage a bowl of stew if he wants a room.

All in all, another fucking day in the paradise that is the Path.

And because Lambert thinks that tonight can’t possibly get worse, the door slams open and another fucking witcher steps through it.

Fucking perfect.

Common folk are uneasy with one witcher, nervous and on edge and wary. Lambert doesn’t mind. Geralt would probably go out of his way to put the people’s minds at rest, make himself smaller and softer and friendlier than he is, the way Vesemir taught him, taught all of them. Fuck that. Lambert doesn’t mind that they’re afraid, that they pull their children behind them, that they give him a wide berth. Makes it easier to get them to fork over their coin after he’s dealt with their problems if they remember he’s not their friend.

But two witchers, two witchers become a threat. Two witchers together seem to remind people that they could wipe out a village like this without breaking much of a sweat if they were so inclined, and that tips that helpful apprehension into something a lot more reckless, a lot more lethal. One particularly memorable contract where he’d teamed up with Eskel ended with a dozen snarling, terrified villagers cornering them with pitchforks, and they’d’ve both been fucked had it not been for Eskel’s freakish strong Axii holding the crowd long enough for them to get the hell out of dodge.

(This was before Geralt’s fancy bard started his quest to single-handedly rehabilitate the witcher image, of course, but still. That shit stays with you.)

Every eye in the inn’s common room is fixed on this new witcher, and then, seemingly in unison, they remember Lambert.

The other witcher’s gaze follows the crowd’s, and when their eyes meet his face breaks into a dangerous smile. He slinks over, every movement full of a graceful precision unusual in a man his size. He’s smaller than Lambert, though not by much: his lean frame is lithe and sinewy, his shoulders broad, the arms bared by his short-sleeved jerkin defined, solid. His skin bears the same telltale scars of the profession as Lambert’s does in shades of pink and red and white.

A cat medallion hangs on his chest, swinging casually as he slips into the booth across from Lambert as though he belongs there.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, Cat?” He pitches his voice as low as he can without a whisper dampening the impact of his growl. The less the onlookers hear of their exchange the better.

The Cat sprawls out as though he owns the place, an arm draping over the back of the booth. “Drop your hackles, Wolf, I’m not here to spirit away your contracts.” He gestures, beckoning the barkeep and Lambert nearly laughs at the audacity, as though that would possibly...until he notices that the man is heading towards their table with a mug of ale, which he sets before the Cat with a nod and nary a word about payment. The witcher takes a swig, tossing wet, shoulder-length brown hair out of his eyes in the process. A striking white scar intersects his sharp-angled eyebrow. His face is all sharp angles: strong, squared off jaw, covered in dark stubble; aquiline nose that looks to have been broken once; high, distinctive cheekbones.

Look, just because Lambert’s sure he’s up to no good doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the view.

“The name’s Aiden. And you are?”

“Not about to fall for any horseshit. What do you want, Cat?”

The Cat fixes him with that feral smile again. “To drink with a colleague.” At Lambert’s huff of disbelief, Aiden sighs. He drops his voice to a deep purr. “Relax, Wolf. I'm only here to establish an alibi. What could be more memorable than two witchers from enemy schools sharing a drink? It’ll be the talk of the town.”

“Rather not be the talk of the town. Rather put my head down, do the job, and avoid cocky assholes like you like the plague. Don’t really care to be part of some intrigue that’s gonna get me skewered.”

A flash of recognition lights Aiden’s handsome face. He nods, considering his words before he replies. “Spent a good while working jobs in this area last fall. Had some pretty grisly shit on their hands; a clan of wraiths haunting the woods just outside the village, cutting them off from the nearest fresh water source and slaughtering dozens every month. Then all those fresh corpses bring…”

“Fucking necrophages.” Lambert winces. It’s not an uncommon problem with wraiths. Unlike many of the monsters he hunts regularly, wraiths don’t consume the corpses, which has a tendency to attract secondary issues.

“Fucking necrophages,” Aiden confirms. “Ghouls and alghouls, mostly, but graveirs too, nests and nests of necrophages sprung up for miles in every direction. Job took over a month to wrap up. I stayed here at the inn, got to know most of the locals. Not saying we’re pen pals, but we’re safe here.”

A petite barmaid with wispy, dirty blonde hair approaches the table, setting a steaming bowl of stew before Aiden. “Me da says it’s on the house, master witcher,” she says as Aiden reaches for his purse, a comely pink flush spreading across her freckled face.

“Your father has my thanks, Brea, as do you.” The girl blushes deeper at that, ducking her head. “Might I get another bowl for my friend? I’ve the coin.”

“Me da says I’m to take no coin for you, master witcher, you’re our guest here. Be back with the stew in a flash.”

Lambert stares.

Aiden smiles, and somehow it seems a little softer, sadder. “Brea’s brother was one of those the wraiths slaughtered before I arrived. They didn’t have much coin, not enough for such an extensive job, but they were upfront from the start, and they kept me housed and well fed until the job was done. Didn’t get the warmest welcome from the whole village, but Keller—” he nods toward the barkeep “—and his family were always good to me.”

“Never seen anything like it.” The girl flits back beside the table, setting a thick, warm bowl of stew before Lambert with a quick nod before scurrying away again. He looked at Aiden appraisingly, slowly picking up his spoon. “Name’s Lambert,” he grunts. “Thanks for...you know.”

Aiden waves it off. “Eat.”

They do.

Conversation flows a little easier as they eat. They talk about the shit weather that brought Lambert to the inn, the ealdorman a few towns over that tried to stiff Lambert after he wiped out a cave full of endregas, their best hunts this year, the closest they came to dying this year. It’s been almost a year since he was last in Kaer Morhen, last around people who understood, who would have a real conversation with him, but it turns out Aiden’s surprisingly easy to talk to. He listens more than he speaks, watching Lambert with bright eyes through each story only to interject a thoughtful question here, a devastatingly witty quip there.

They’re on their third round of ale, courtesy of Aiden’s apparent heroism, their supper long finished, when Lambert leans forward on his elbows, fingertips lacing together. “Riddle me this, Cat,” he says slowly, watching the pretty face before him break into a grin, scarred eyebrow jutting upward. “If you’re just here so you have an alibi—and don’t think I forgot about that shady shit, by the way, I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to but I haven’t forgotten that—then why’d you come sit here with me? Yeah, yeah, two witchers are more memorable than one, I heard you, but not here, where they know you by name and keep the ale coming and treat you like a damn king. There’s a room full of people who’d vouch you were here even if you weren’t, seems to me. So why?”

Aiden stretches, hard lines of his body on languorous display. He looks relaxed, at ease. “Needed to assess the threat.” His voice is casual, but his golden eyes miss nothing. “You Wolves have a reputation as a prickly, self-righteous bunch—no, hold your protests, I assure you I know all about our reputation. I like to think we’re both more than the worst traits of our guilds, don’t you agree?”

Lambert nods, reluctant.

“There’s also,” Aiden continues, and although his body remains lax, long limbs still splayed out gracefully, his voice lowers carefully, “the fact that you want me. Smelled it on you the minute I walked in, strong enough to cut through your misapprehension.”

Lambert doesn’t deny it, just watches him, silent.

“It was flattering,” Aiden murmurs, leaning in, long fingers tracing patterns on the table between them. “Strong, handsome witcher who can’t keep his eyes off me? It’s a hard thing to resist. And denying myself has never been one of my strong suits.”

“I can believe that,” Lambert snorts. Aiden’s looking up at him prettily through hooded eyes, long, dark lashes, a quick tongue wetting his lip. And Lambert could deny himself, could walk away from this fascinating man who he doesn’t quite trust, doesn’t quite know but desperately wants to. “So what now?”

“Now I’m going to take advantage of my complimentary room upstairs. What you do is up to you, but I’d welcome your company.” He slips to his feet and fixes Lambert with a challenging smile. “You coming, Wolf? Or are you all bark?”

Lambert follows.

Maybe it’s not such a shit night after all.

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 5: Ironic

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"Woah."

"I know, right," Peter said, unzipping the inside of the suit and moving to plug it into Ned's computer. His friend continued to gape at it, fingers trailing over the fabric reverently.

"I can't believe Iron Man made this," he whispered. "I get to sit here. And touch a superhero suit. That Tony Stark made. For my best friend. This is the greatest day of my life."

"You've said that a lot recently," Peter pointed out, pulling up the schematics of the suit on Ned's computer, who turned to look at him in confusion.

"What are you doing? Are you supposed to be messing with it?"

"I'm not messing with it. I'm just going through Karen's code real quickly."

"Karen?"

"The AI," he explained. "I just want to make sure she's not gonna snitch on me."

"Snitch on you for what?"

"Uhhh, so you know those alien weapons I've been talking about?"

Ned nodded. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna take that down, and I don't really need Karen telling Mr. Stark," he mumbled the last part nervously. Ned stared at him.

"Why don't we want Karen telling Mr. Stark again? I mean, he gave you the suit, he must think you're capable."

Peter paused, puffing up his cheeks as he took in an awkward breath, staring at the protocols showing up on the computer. He'd already spotted three to tell Mr. Stark if he was in trouble, so he knew it was the opposite of Ned's assumption.

"Actuallyyyy..." He took a deep breath. "You can't tell anyone this." Ned nodded, but he continued to press. "I mean it. Nobody. Not a soul."

"I won't, I won't! I promise, Peter. Not. A. Soul."

"Mr. Stark's my soulmate."

Ned's head whipped around to stare at Peter's shadow, his mouth falling open.

"Oh, my God... Oh, my God! He's your soulmate!!?" Peter nodded, preparing himself for Ned's excited ramblings, but he couldn't really hide the smile on tugging at his lips either, however faint it was. "This is insane! Your life is so fucking insane I think I'm going to lose it!! Have you talked to him? Wait--yeah you have! How many times have you talked to him? Have you done, I don't know, 'soulmate things?'"

"Ned, what?"

Ned threw his hands up. "I don't know, I haven't met my soulmate. I'm trying my best, Peter!"

Peter laughed, shrugging.

"I don't really know what 'soulmate things' are, but we had dinner, and he showed me some stuff in his lab."

"Oh, my God...you've been in his lab. You know you have to show me one day."

"Definitely. I'll figure it out later, just, let us get more used to each other? Maybe? Let me impress him at least, which is why I'm trying to keep Karen from snitching on me."

"Sure. Here," Ned agreed, sitting beside him on the bed and gesturing for the computer. Peter passed it over to him wordlessly. "I'll work on the protocols, you do detective work or something."

"Thanks, dude."

"By the way, and answer honestly, is that Tony Stark's hoodie?"

Peter glanced down at the red hoodie that Mr. Stark had given him, 'MIT' emblazoned on the sleeves while the faded logo sat on the front of the piece of clothing. He smiled at Ned. "Yep."

"This is so cool," his friend melted.

With an amused eyeroll, Peter pulled out his phone, clearing his throat and nervously calling, "Karen?"

The phone lit up. "Yes, Peter?"

"Listen, ah, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to figure out who these guys under the bridge were a few nights ago, but I mean, I can only kind of remember part of a license plate."

"Can you tell me where you were?" Peter rattled off Liz's neighborhood. Karen was silent for a little bit before piping up again. "Was there a white van involved?"

Peter perked up. "Yes! Exactly!"

A hologram popped up from Peter's phone. Ned stopped to stare at it as they both let out an identical, "Whoa..."

Peter watched intently from the security camera as the van rolled up under the bridge to where the buyer had been waiting. Karen highlighted the faces for him.

"Okay. The two on the right, who are they?" he asked.

"Searching law enforcement databases," Karen said, pausing before answering. "No records found for two of the individuals."

"Nothing?"

"One individual identified." The recording was replaced by a mugshot. "Aaron Davis, age thirty-three. He has a criminal record and an address here in Queens."

Peter and Ned glanced at each other. Ned said, "The protocols are disabled."

"Let's pay him a visit."

  ---

"So, what's this surprise you've been talking about?"

Tony's head shot up at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. He smiled, turning from where he'd been forcing some kitchen tools into a box to take in the woman as she stepped off of the elevator. She very much looked like she'd just come out of a meeting in sharp business slacks and an exhausted expression.

"Hey, Pep. How was...London?"

"Tokyo," she corrected, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It was tiring. How's the packing?"

"Eh, boring," he said, kicking the box lightly and shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, anyway, I think that we should reconsider moving to the compound permanently."

"Tony, we just finished all the paperwork for the tower! And most floors have been packed by now, we can't just--"

"Not the tower. Just for us. Ever thought about a nice high-rise in Queens?"

Pepper stared at him, crossing her arms. "Queens? Since when have you ever cared about Queens?"

"Well, that's the surprise."

"The surprise is that you want to move to Queens?"

"No," Tony corrected, unable to stop his bright grin. "The surprise is that my soulmate lives in Queens."

It took a couple of seconds for that to register to Pepper. When it did, her eyebrows raised and she let out a smiled gasp. "You found him?"

Tony nodded. "Yep, just swinging around New York like a maniac."

"Swinging?"

"He's Spider-Man. Well, 'man's' a strong word. Here." He waved his hand, pulling up a screen that displayed Peter's yearbook photo. Pepper cooed at him. "Peter Parker. Top of his class at Midtown High by day, overly excited vigilante by night."

"He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly, never mind stop robberies. How'd he get his powers?"

"Forgot to ask, actually. He wasn't super excited to meet me at first, actually."

Pepper snorted. "Good. I'm glad he doesn't feed your ego."

"Hey! This is serious," he pouted.

"Uhuh." Pepper gave him another kiss on the cheek. "How'd you meet him?"

"Mugging. I bought him a hot chocolate."

"Hmm. I expected something stranger given your track record."

"He ran away."

"There it is," she said. "It's all good now, though?"

"Yeah..."

"Tony?"

He hesitated. "Peter lives at a group home, and I gotta say, not super fond of his foster father."

"Is he... Does he hurt Peter?" Pepper asked. He shrugged.

"Possibly. I gave Peter some money and the guy took it. Spent hundreds of dollars on liquor. And the kid's really thin. Jumpy, too. But there's nothing to prove right now."

"I'm surprised I didn't have our lawyer calling me to say you broke into a foster home and kidnapped a kid."

Tony shrugged, giving her a soft smile. "I don't need to break down the door to say hi to Peter. Besides, kid's wary, gets nervous easily. I don't want to scare him off by being too invasive about his home."

"Good on you for learning some boundaries, Tony," she congratulated before turning just a little more serious as she glanced at Peter's picture again. "You're sure he's alright?"

"No. But he's got a new superhero suit, a phone with me, Friday, and his own AI on speed dial, an unlimited credit card, and a badge to get into the tower. He's got resources if he needs them."

"Then let's just hope he doesn't need them."

 ---

  Peter waited until the next day to find and interrogate Aaron Davis, more at Ned's insistence that they study for their Spanish quiz and to let his friend geek out over the suit than anything else. He'd stayed at his friend's house for as long as humanly possible, readily accepting whatever snack that Ned had pushed his way and going over notes that Karen gave him about Davis. It wasn't until the alarm he'd had Karen set that it was 9:40 went off did he leave.

Peter didn't like to impose on his friend so much, but Ned hadn't seemed to mind with the new addition of a supersuit and Mr. Stark being his soulmate, and the teenager couldn't help the way he was still avoiding Mr. Fowler like the plague. After leaving Mr. Stark's on Sunday and failing to stop a simple burglary, he'd hurried back to the group home, helping Eric with his homework and then cooping himself up in his room. He'd managed to avoid him the entire night and the next morning due to the man being passed out drunk in his room. Though he was still wracked with guilt at the fact that his foster father had stolen Mr. Stark's money on alcohol, he had to admit that it was at least useful.

Bidding goodnight to his friend, Peter slipped out of the apartment and hurried down onto the street where he joined the late night crowd as he made his way back to the group home. He popped his earbuds in and chose a song on his phone (that had an unlimited choice for him now, but he just stuck with his familiar Spotify playlists) as he rushed back to a place that he wished he could avoid for longer. Unfortunately, the curfew was final, so he made it back to the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys with five minutes to spare.

He stopped in front of the door as his hairs rose. Surprisingly, they didn't direct him towards the house, instead calling him to turn around. Peter glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of a man sitting at an apartment's steps a few buildings down. It was too dark to see his face, especially with the hat he wore pulled down low, but he looked just a little familiar. More than a little nervous, the teenager shook it off and stepped inside.

Mr. Fowler was waiting for him at the dining table. Peter paused, taking out his earbuds as Mr. Fowler turned to stare at him, chewing on a slice of pizza. For some reason, despite living in New York, the man was obsessed with frozen pizza. It was practically criminal, but Peter excused it as mind games since all the kids weren't allowed to eat any of it. Only a sociopath would eat exclusively frozen pizza in Queens.

"Pity. I was hoping you'd be late," Mr. Fowler frowned at Peter as he shuffled to a hesitant stop by the stairs. "Got another card for me?"

"No," Peter lied stiffly.

"What? No sugar daddy today?"

He knew better than to argue. "I hung out with Ned."

Mr. Fowler stared at him, but the travel agent was nothing if not a man of his word. Peter had been on time, so he waved the teenager on. Resisting the urge to scramble into the safety of his room, he whisked up the steep stairs and into the dark bedroom only lit by the lamp in the corner.

Tim was already asleep, but Jeremiah was sat on his bed going over what looked like a book report. The teenager paid Peter no mind as he dropped his bag onto the ground beside his bed and changed into a pajama shirt. He kept the hoodie on that Mr. Stark had given despite the warmth of the night as he slipped under his covers, bundling up in the reassuring fabric.

Peter didn't fall asleep for a while, grateful for the light provided by the lamp as he stared at the outline of Mr. Stark's shadow as though it were the only thing in the world. It might as well be for all he cared. Blocking out Mr. Fowler was quickly becoming a new necessity that was increasingly hard to do with the way his senses focused in on every little thing.

The entire house smelled of the man's alcohol, musty and strong and littered with the memories of a dark closet where even his shadow hadn't been able to comfort him. But the hoodie carried the fading scent of Mr. Stark that washed away his tired uneasiness, at least for the time being, and the shadow kept him preoccupied with one comforting thought. Out there, just across a bridge, was an adult who cared.

 ---

  When Peter woke up, he felt off. He wasn't quite sure how to explain it, just that he knew the day was going to go wrong before it started. He wanted to curl up deeper into the hoodie that wrapped around him like a cocoon, but forced himself to push the covers off of himself and plant hit feet on the cold morning floor.

Jeremiah's bed was already empty, so Peter assumed that he'd already eaten and left with Eric, whose school started much earlier than everyone else's. Tim was still asleep, so Peter put on a pair of pants, grabbed his bag, and woke the kid up before knocking on the door of the other kids' room. He then headed downstairs and began putting together bowls of cereal for the kids that would be stumbling downstairs in a few minutes.

Mr. Fowler was in the kitchen, leaving the teenager to shuffle around him awkwardly as the man gave him a suspicious glare that he tried desperately to ignore. He left the kitchen as quickly as possible, placing the bowls down in the kids' usual spots and then taking up his own place to quickly scarf down a bowl of tasteless cereal. By the time he was finished, all the other kids had already stumbled downstairs and begun to eat.

Peter went along preparing their bags and then taking their bowls to the sink once they were done. He had just put the last dish in the dishwasher when the other boys at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys walked out the door, leaving him alone with Mr. Fowler. The man was staring at him with the same suspicious glare as he closed the pantry and then made to grab his backpack.

"Wait just a moment, Peter," Mr. Fowler said. Peter paused immediately, holding back a shiver at the danger in his tone.

"Sir?"

"There was a pack of granola bars missing from the pantry last night." The man glared at him, clearly waiting for a reaction, but Peter just stared at him, hesitant. Which kid had taken the bars? He hadn't seen anything off in their bags, unless Mr. Fowler had just miscounted, though that didn't happen often. "Anything to say to that, Peter?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, sir. I didn't take them."

"You didn't? I find that very hard to believe. How close are you to ending your grounding?"

"Three days, Mr. Fowler."

He tutted, standing up from his chair and stepping over to Peter. The teenager couldn't stop the way he froze, tensing up and squaring his shoulders as a large, meaty hand clamped down on one. Fingers curled over the thick fabric of his hoodie, pricking at his skin.

"Well, it would be a pity if it was extended longer. You're sure you didn't take anything?"

"Nothing, sir." The hand flashed to his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling his head down and to the side with a pained grunt. Peter forced his breaths to steady even as tears pricked at his eyes. "I didn't take anything, Mr. Fowler, I promise!"

"Then you've wasted my time, son. Do you know what makes up for lost time?"

"Wha-what? Sir."

"A bit of hard cash." Peter noticed the way the man's hand trembled. "That card was nice for the weekend, but I'm afraid I'm running a little low. Got anything else for me?"

His thoughts flashed to the newly activated card sitting in his wallet, tucked safely in his hoodie pocket. He could just give it up and walk away. Mr. Fowler would be happy and Peter could go to school, safe and sound.

Steely eyes met Mr. Fowler's impossibly strained ones. "No. I don't have any other money."

The fist let go of his hair, throwing him back. Peter caught himself in a stumble as Mr. Fowler looked at him in disgust.

"Fine," the man rasped. "Extend your grounding until next week, then. Now get to school before I'm forced to call you in an excuse."

Peter mumbled out a grated, "Yes, sir," before stumbling out the door. Instead of making his way to school, he stumbled into the nearest alleyway. The teenager sucked in a deep breath, cursing himself for the tears biting at his eyes and the panic choking his throat. He was fine. Nothing had happened. He was completely fine. It wasn't like the extension of his grounding even mattered, Peter had money to buy food when he needed it. Everything. Was. Fine.

But Peter wasn't fine. He was choking on air and stumbling on panic as he slid down a grimy alleyway wall, unable to even begin to calm down. He didn't know why he was even freaking out so bad, Mr. Fowler had only pulled his hair, but the revival of the strong smell of liquor and the closeness of the man's face to his was horribly haunting.

Peter pulled at his hair as he finally managed to wheeze in a breath, staring desperately at the shadow in front of him. Mr. Stark's fluffy hair and tall shoulders seemed to stare back at him, almost reassuring. The teenager shoved his nose into the collar of his cardinal hoodie, taking in a deep breath to drown out Mr. Fowler.

It calmed him slightly.

But not quite enough.

With chattering teeth, Peter pulled his bag off of his shoulder and tore the suit out of it. With no hesitation, he took off his clothes and stepped into the suit. Karen greeted him instantly.

"Good morning, Peter. Shouldn't you be heading to school?"

"Uh, no, no. Not today, Karen. That man, Aaron Davis? Where is he right now?"

A path was highlighted on his screen.

 ---

  "Remember me?"

Peter's voice was almost hilariously unnatural, but the man at the car stumbled back, so he guessed it worked. He thundered forward to where Aaron Davis was trying to stumble away from his car but was pulled back by the web sticking to the open hood.

"Uh, hey..."

"I need information. You're gonna give it to me now," Peter demanded half-heartedly, the enhanced interrogation mode making his voice much angrier. Maybe it was better than he thought.

"All right, chill," Davis placated.

"Come on!"

Davis paused, staring at him in confusion. Peter tried not to shuffle on his feet. "What happened to your voice?"

Crap.

"What do you mean, what happened to my voice?"

"I heard you by the bridge. I know what a girl sound like," Davis deadpanned.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a boy," Peter protested, quickly moving to correct himself. "I mean, I'm a--I'm a man."

"I don't care what you are, a boy, a girl..." the man trailed off with a shrug, continuing to load his car with groceries.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a man," he protested again. "Come on, man. Look, who is selling these weapons? I need to know. Give me names--or else."

Davis slammed the trunk shut and Peter flinched back on instinct. The man flashed him a teasing smile, shaking his head.

"You ain't ever done this before, huh?"

"Deactivate interrogation mode," Peter said sullenly. Davis huffed in amusement, shaking his head again. "Look, man, these guys are selling weapons that are crazy dangerous. They can't just be out on the streets. Look, if one of them can just cut Delmar's bodega in half..."

Davis, not paying attention in the slightest, looked up, regarding him in slight interest. "You know Delmar's?"

"Yeah, best sandwich in Queens," he shrugged.

"Sub Haven's pretty good."

"It's too much bread."

"I like bread."

"Come on, man, please," the teenager begged one last time. Davis stared at him, unresponsive, so with a dramatic throw of his hands, Peter began to walk away. "Stupid interrogation mode. Karen, don't ever do that again."

"The other night," Aaron started. Peter turned around to look at him. "You told that dude, "if you shoot somebody, shoot me." It's pretty ballsy. I don't want those weapons in this neighborhood. I got a nephew who live here.

Tentatively, Peter stepped back over, catching sight of the man's shadow. It was smaller, clearly a boy with a tall afro.

"Who are these guys? What can you tell me about the guy with the wings?"

"Other than he's a psychopath dressed like a demon, nothing. I don't know who he is or where he is." Peter sighed, leaning his head on the car roof. He was never going to prove to Mr. Stark he was worthy of being his soulmate when he couldn't even find the vulture guy. Aaron offered, "I do know where he's gonna be."

Peter perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, this crazy dude I used to work with, he's supposed to be doing a deal with him."

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed, beginning to step away in giddiness. "Yes. Thank--"

"Hey, hey, hey," Aaron called. Peter stopped. "I didn't tell you where. You don't have a location."

Peter flushed bright red, making his way back to the car in embarrassment. "Right, of course. Yeah, my bad. Silly. Just...Yeah. Where is it?"

"Can I give you some advice?" Peter hummed. "You got to get better at this part of the job."

"I don't understand. I'm intimidating."

He crossed his arms, but Aaron only shook his head again.

"Staten Island ferry, eleven."

"Oh, that's soon," Peter realized. He began to walk away, pointing a finger at where the man's hand was webbed. "Hey, that's gonna dissolve in two hours."

"No, no, no, no. Come fix this."

"Two hours. You deserve that."

"I got ice cream in here."

"You deserve that. You're a criminal! Bye, Mr. Criminal!!"

 ---

  Tony clapped his hands together in an attempt to dust them off as he stared around the packaged remains of his lab. Scribbled formulas and problems had been wiped clean from boards, tables folded and disassembled, and prototypes all packed into boxes ready to be loaded onto the plane in a few days time. Most of what was left in his workplace was personal items and two encased Iron Man armors.

"How we looking on time, Fri?" he asked, grabbing his mug from where he'd placed it on the counter earlier and taking a sip.

"Packing for the move to the compound is on schedule, boss," the AI responded.

"Great," he said, smacking his lips at the comforting bitterness of his coffee, "How's the search for a Queens apartment going?"

"I have several different listings placed into the Itsy Bitsy Spider folder for you to look at."

"Great. Forward them to Pepper."

"Of course, sir."

Satisfied with the prospective of flipping through apartment listings closer to Peter in the evening, he glanced down at his shadow, frowning at the lack of fluffy hair there. It was Tuesday, wasn't it? He checked his watch for the time. Barely eleven. He was pretty sure Peter should be in school by now.

"Friday, is the spider-suit active?"

"Yes, sir."

He frowned harder. "Activate the Baby Monitor Protocol, I want to see what's going on."

"That protocol has been disabled, sir."

"What?"

The AI was silent for a moment before responding, "It has been disabled, along with many others. The only way to reinstate them would be manually."

Tony glanced down at his shadow again. Surely the kid wasn't messing with the suit? And especially not the protocols to keep him safe? And he'd skipped school, too.

"Call Peter."

 ---

  Peter peered over the top of the ferry roof at the men gathering below, who practically screamed shady. He kept an eye on Dronie's recording, the small robot keeping an eye on the other two guys up on the ferry, while Karen highlighted the men below.

"Who’s the guy on the left?" he asked, his spine shivering as he looked at the man.

"Mac Gargan. Extensive criminal record, including homicide. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark?"

"What? No. I've got this, Karen."

One of the men that Peter had seen at the bridge approached Gargan. Peter could easily pick up his muttered. "White pickup truck."

Gargan nodded at one of his crones, who immediately began walking into the inside of the ferry holding the cars.

"Dronie," Peter whispered. "Scan the ship for a white pickup truck."

He watched the footage apprehensively as Dronie flew farther outside the ferry, x-raying the boat to pick out the truck inside. The robot then zipped over to it, beginning to scan the contents covered in the trunk but flying away and back to Peter as a man stepped out the front. His leg bounced nervously as the robot settled back in his chest, his heart beating erratically.

"Oh, this is too perfect," Peter said. "I got the weapons, buyers, and sellers all in one place."

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

"No, no, no. No, no, don’t answer."

Despite his protests, the screen of his suit was swept away as Mr. Stark filled his screen. Peter tried not to grimace, keeping a careful eye on the men below even as the billionaire began to speak.

"Mr. Parker. Got a sec?" Mr. Stark greeted with a tight smile.

"Uh, I’m actually at school," Peter lied, ignoring Karen's correction in his ear. "I gotta get back to class, Mr. Stark, so--"

"What class?"

"Uhh--" Shit, what did he have at eleven? "Alge--"

The ferry's horn blared excruciatingly loudly. Peter resisted the urge to grimace, trying to keep an eye on the criminals below still.

"Band. I'm at, uh, band practice."

Mr. Stark stared at him, unimpressed. "That's...odd. You told me you quit band when you started swinging around as Spider-Man."

"I gotta go. Uh, end call."

"Hey," Mr. Stark protested, but the screen clicked close, allowing Peter to clearly see the people below once more. He flicked out a wrist, snapping a web onto a pair of keys being handed over.

"I’ll take those! Yoink!" He flipped, snatching the keys and webbing them to the ceiling. "Hey, guys. The illegal-weapons-deal-ferry was at 10:30. You missed it."

He webbed away the weapons from two guys quickly and threw them into the water. With a shiver up his spine, he ducked out of the way of the approaching man wearing the shocking gauntlet. The man's weaponized arm got stuck in the net on the ferry.

While he was distracted with the gauntlet guy, the other two he'd disarmed had scrambled to their feet, egging for a get away. Peter turned lackadaisically, webbing them

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast." He threw the two to the ground. "Are you guys okay? My bad. That was a little hard. I gotta say the other guy was way better with that thing. I’m honestly, I’m, I’m shocked."

This was going super well.

 ---

  Peter let out a short scream of pain, suspended between the two crumbling halves of the ferry. His arms burned as he gripped at the webs fruitlessly, but he refused to let go. He could hear their heartbeats, fast and afraid and exactly like his own. The teenager panted, straining harder than he ever had before only to continue to fail. The ferry wasn't coming back together, his webs hadn't done anything, and the entire ship was going to fall apart.

And yet he refused to let go, even as he felt his arms tear painfully. He cracked his eyes open, searching desperately for his shadow. It was currently lost in the waves crashing underneath as cars piled into the rushing water. There was a moment, so quick he almost missed it, where a car hood stayed still long enough just for him to make out the shadow.

Of an Iron Man armor.

There was a metal groaning and an easing on his shoulders. Peter looked away from his shadow.

"What the hell?" With the ferry putting itself together, the teenager let himself drop onto the ferry floor, arm raised in fearful apprehension as the sound of metal colliding echoed around the entire boat. "What the hell..."

Mr. Stark in the Iron Man armor rose into view at the windows. Despite the fact that he was wearing a mask, it was easy to tell he looked angry. Or, hopefully, he was reading too much into it and the suit was just mean looking.

"Hi, Spider-Man. Band practice, was it?"

Nope. He sounded mad too. Peter had to force down a shiver, ignoring the clapping people and swinging to the cargo hold as Mr. Stark flew under it, beginning to piece the ship back together. He followed anxiously on the ceiling, turmoil sitting heavy in his stomach as he followed the man.

"Uh, Mr. Stark?" he called nervously. He continued to skitter after the man as he flew up to the ferry's top, trying to catch the man's attention even as he continued to ignore the teenager. "Hey, Mr. Stark. Could I do anything? What do you want me to do?"

"I think you’ve done enough."

Peter couldn't even bear to look at his shadow.

 ---

  "So that’s it, you’re just gonna run?" Adrian asked as Schultz approached with his overflowing duffle bag.

"Feds were waiting for us. Now we’re on Iron Man’s radar? Yeah, I’m running. You should, too."

"You know I can’t do that," Toomes said, glancing down at the shadow of his wife.

"So now what?" Schultz shrugged. Adrian rubbed at his chin.

"Mason, can you get that high-altitude seal thing up and running in time?"

"Seriously?" the engineer asked, comically giddy despite how hilariously screwed they all were. "Yes. You will not regret this."

Adrian turned back to Schultz. "You in?"

The man glanced down on the floor, contemplative. "If we get caught, we're dead. And we have days before that plane takes off. We'll be caught before then. Stark will get us, you know that."

"So we take care of Stark."

"Take care of Stark? You're crazy. How the hell are we gonna to kill Iron Man?"

Adrian thought for a moment, thoughts creeping back to the night over the lake; a defensive boy and an over-eager man and matching shadows. Peter Parker, as had been reported by one of his men following the kid. He even went to Liz's school, on her academic team and everything. He hurt a little to do this, but nothing was more important than family.

"We don't need to kill Stark," Adrian responded. "We just need to insure his compliance."

  ---

Tony finally spotted the kid sitting on the edge of the building, his legs thrown over the side, his mask torn off his face as he stared down at the water. The bulky outline of the Iron Man armor extended behind him, an imposing figure compared to the hunched and shivering kid. The sound of sirens and helicopters rang in the distance, only feeding fuel to the fire that was his anger. It had been two days since he'd given Peter the suit and he'd already hacked it, lied to him, and endangered the lives of more than a hundred people. He'd taken Tony's tech and ran with it, doing what the man had warned the teenager not to do, and almost gotten himself killed too.

It terrified him just as much as it infuriated him.

"Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch," Tony started, hovering next to Peter's spot on the building. "I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do."

"Is everyone okay?" Peter rasped.

"No thanks to you."

He clunked down on the ground, but Peter barely even looked at him, just grasping the mask in his fingers tighter. After a tense moment, the kid turned to glare at him, a sour look on his face.

"What do you care?"

The question almost shocked Tony from his anger, but the fury managed to cling on as the suit opened, allowing for him to step out. There was a defensive flicker on Peter's face, washed away as quickly as it came, at the stiff anger glued to his figure.

"What do I care?" he echoed incredulously. "Who the hell gave you the suit that you're wearing right now? The one that you used to go fight people you weren't ready to fight. Peter, you're not prepared for this--"

"I didn't see you doing anything."

"Who do you think called the FBI, huh?" Tony demanded.

"And they got their asses kicked immediately!"

"And you did what exactly?"

Peter swallowed. A soft, angry mumble shivered from his chest. "I just wanted to be like you."

Tony glowered. "And I wanted you to be better."

Peter didn't have an answer to that, turning away with a sharp flinch to stare down at the water again where the ferry was finally beginning to dock. His face was scrunched up in cold anger. Tony stared at him, waiting, but the teenager didn't do anything. Didn't say anything. With an indignant sniff, Tony glanced between the approaching boat of people and the kid sitting stiffly in front of him.

"Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back."

That caught Peter's attention. His head whipped around and he finally swiveled off of the building's edge, standing to face him. The defensiveness was back in full force now, broken only by a shiver of fear in the tremble on his face.

The teenager swallowed. "For how long?"

"Forever." Peter gaped at him, shaking his head. Tony hit him with a withering expression. "Yeah. Yeah, that’s how it works."

"No, no, no... Please, please, please..." the kid rushed, his voice pitching higher.

"Let’s have it."

"You don’t understand. Please. This is all I have. I’m nothing without this suit."

"If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it." Tony stopped in his demand, pausing to stare into the distance under the guise of letting Peter absorb his words but really choking down his own panic and regret. This was how he was treating his soulmate. He hadn't known this kid for a week and he'd had maybe two successful conversations with him. And now he was yelling and bringing down and punishing. "God, I sound like my dad."

Peter stared at him, swallowing. "Mr. Stark, please I don't want you to g--"

"The suit. Peter."

He could barely even look at the kid's completely dejected expression.

  ---

Peter meandered down the street, his head down as he forced himself to bite down on tears. It wasn't that hard, he'd had a lot of practice recently after all, but he couldn't deny that it hurt. Well, he could, but not to himself.

With the loss of the suit, Peter's bag was considerably lighter. Empty. It was disturbingly similar to how he felt in the moment, like a stumbling shell of a person.

He'd fucked up. He knew he had. But he didn't think he'd fucked up enough to lose his soulmate. He'd just--he'd just wanted to try and impress Mr. Stark, to show the man that he was worthy of being the shadow that had followed the superhero--his hero--around for fifteen years. He huffed to himself quietly at the horrible irony of it all.

After Mr. Stark had demanded to the suit, well, Peter had given it to him. He hadn't had much other choice. The man had allowed for him to go grab the bag he'd webbed to an alleyway earlier and change into his clothes. Choking down panicked tears, the teenager had folded up the barely used suit, and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped the card, the phone, and the badge given to him into the mask. He wanted to have given him the red hoodie too, but it was the only top he'd had, so he'd reluctantly kept it. He'd given the stuff that was no longer his to the still seething Avenger and had left. Mr. Stark hadn't ask where he was going, so he hadn't told him.

Not that Peter was amazingly sure he knew himself. He didn't want to go back to where Mr. Fowler was surely working from home. Peter was supposed to be at school, the man would be furious that he hadn't gone, and he didn't have the courage to face him right now. The ghosted feeling of a hand tugging at his hair and painful nails in his shoulder was enough to keep him wandering the streets of Queens for as long as he possibly could.

There wasn't a destination, there was barely even a journey, there was just the tired wanderings of a teenager trying desperately not to break down crying. Part of him wished he'd kept the phone, just so he could text Ned, or even lose himself mindlessly on social media for an hour or two, but Mr. Stark's words rang clearly in his head.

"Forever."

Peter shook himself vigorously, taking a wispy breath. Of course he would lose his soulmate not even a week after meeting him. Everyone else had left too, it really only made sense.

He didn't know why he'd let himself hope.

"I don't want you to go."

A painfully strong shiver up his spine forced the teenager to stop in the middle of the alleyway he'd been cutting through. Peter pulled back his sleeve, brows furrowing as the hairs on his arm rose on end. Without his phone, or the watch kept on his webshooter, the teen had no way of knowing what time it was, but it had to have been at least half an hour since Mr. Stark had taken the suit. Since he'd caused a gun to split a ferry full of innocent bystanders in half.

"And I wanted you to be better."

Peter had assumed his senses had continued to freak out from the resounding adrenaline and the complete rush of panic that had been today--from the horribleness of it all--but they still weren't calming down.

Jittery, he turned to leave the alleyway back the way he came, but there was a man blocking his way. He froze when he recognized him and the glitching gauntlet on his arm. From the bridge and the ferry. The man stalked forward.

Peter whipped around to escape towards the other end, but another man stood there as well, a different alien weapon in his hands. Peter paused again, eyes shifting desperately for an escape even as the weapon behind him charged up with a threatening snap.

"Give it up, kid," ordered the man. "Come easy, and we won't hurt you."

"Wow. So reassuring," Peter snapped. Without warning, the teenager leaped, jumping onto the wall as high as he could reach. He attempted to begin skittering up the wall, but there was another spike in his senses.

There was no time to dodge as he was encased by an annoyingly familiar blue light that crashed him to the ground straight into a gathering of trashcans. He groaned in pain as he collided with the metal, the cans tipping over and releasing their contents near and on him. There were footsteps, and he tried to push himself back up, but the man with the gauntlet approached quicker than he could recover.

The teenager stared up at him as the man smirked. The gauntlet cracked.

"Nighty-night."

Peter could only close his eyes as a metal fist came crashing down.

---

~Click for better quality~

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

[thosestarsthatshine]

Dogfight

Atsumu x Reader

The rules were simple: find a date and win some money. Who knew that one small encounter could change Atsumu’s life forever.

masterlist

Chapter Two - Come to a Party

It’s been hours, and Atsumu’s been having the worst luck. He’s been all around Tokyo - to the library, the park, the karaoke bars -  and yet despite it all he still hasn’t found a date. It feels like the universe is conspiring against him. Every girl that he’s approached as either seen right through his tactics, or just has flat out ignored him. He was beginning to grow desperate. Time was running down and he needed to find someone to bring. The competitive side in him was growing irritated at admitting any sort of defeat. 

Also the blow to his ego from all the rejection isn’t helping either.

He’s not backing down though. Atsumu spies a small cafe, aptly named Rose’s, up ahead and decides to take a quick break before continuing to search. 

Stepping through the door, Atsumu notices that although it’s only 8, the cafe is not that busy. The tiny cafe doesn’t look like it could fit a ton of people, and the people who are there are few and far between. He heads up to the counter and is greeted by the sight of woman, who looks to be about middle age, behind the counter.  She greets him as he approaches, “What can I get you?” 

Atsumu looks at her name tag, it says Rose - she must be the owner, and attempts to give her his best flirtatious smile, “I’ll take your finest cup of coffee please.”

Rose seems unamused as she answers, “Coming right up.” Atsumu, once again defeated pays and finds a seat at a table in the corner. 

As he sits, he looks around the small cafe, he spots a waitress clumsily coming out from behind the counter. She makes small talk with Rose, who points to his table as she hands the waitress his cup of coffee. He hadn’t known that she was back there to begin with, or that she was in the cafe at all. She seems shy, a bit awkward, not super comfortable in her own skin, and to be honest she’s very plain. Not really Atsumu’s type but she seems like the perfect person to take to the dogfight. She makes her way over to his table with his coffee, and Atsumu sees this as his last ditch effort to try and find someone, anyone to take. Atsumu knows that he has to try really hard to get her to find him appealing enough to agree to come with him. 

She arrives at the table to set down his coffee, avoiding his gaze completely, quietly speaking, “Here’s the coffee you ordered.”

“Thanks. Say, I’m feeling kind of hungry. Anything that ya’d recommend from the menu.” Atsumu gives her a genuine smile as he holds the menu he found on the table, in his hands. It seems that no customer in this cafe must pay her any real attention because she seems shocked that he’s speaking to her. 

She fumbles with her fingers as she nervously speaks up, “Um, well I personally think that our muffins are the best, but I might be a bit biased since I helped make them this morning.” 

Atsumu sees this as an in, “So you’re a baker huh, do you make all of the pastries here?”

She quickly nods

“What’s your favorite ones to make?”

Atsumu can see that she still seems wary of him yet somehow beginning to open up to him, “I prefer chocolate chip, they’re just classic.” 

“I’m a bit of a banana nut muffin man myself, but I’ll have to take your word for it. Anything else ya’d recommend?”

Before she can respond, Rose comes over to the table. “Hate to interrupt but Y/N I need some help. Gotta get ready for the morning.” 

Y/N faces Rose and apologizes “Sorry mama” then turns to Atsumu, “Sorry, I - I guess I gotta get back to work.” Y/N moves away from the table and back over to the counter. Before Atsumu can say anything Rose speaks to him as if sensing his intentions with her daughter aren’t all that wholesome, “Better finish that cup, we’re closing soon.”  She leaves through a door in the back of the cafe that leads to a set of stairs, there is a sign over the door that says “EMPLOYEES ONLY”. Atsumu waits a bit before heading to the counter to speak with Y/N again. 

“Hey, I apologize if I got ya in trouble. It was never my intention.” Atsumu tries to sound as sincere as possible. 

Y/N gives him a shy smile, “It’s okay, Mama just gets a tad bit grumpier at closing time.” 

Atsumu gives a small laugh, “I get it, my Ma’s the same way when it’s getting late and my twin brother and I are still outside practicing our volleyball plays.”

Y/N seems curious, “You have a twin brother, I’ve always wanted a sibling. I bet it’s fun getting to play volleyball with him?”

“It can be, he’s a bit of a scrub sometimes.” He mumbles, to which Y/N laughs, a genuine one full of innocence. He continues, “We’re pretty good actually. Made it to Nationals the past three years.” Atsumu beams with pride as he says that. 

“Hey, I just realized something, I never introduced myself. The name’s Atsumu Miya.” He sticks his hand out as if he wants her to shake it, she does, letting out a small giggle. “I’m Y/N L/N.” Their hands shake for a few moments as they smile at each other. Atsumu decides that now is as good a time as any to try and get her to come, so he pretends to look at the clock behind Y/N. “Well, I better get going, gotta head to a party.”

“A party?”

“Yeah some friends of mine are throwing a little get together.” Atsumu suddenly pretends that he’s had this brilliant idea, “How’d ya like to come with me?”

Y/N is a bit shocked, she’s only just met Atsumu. She won’t deny that she thinks that he’s cute, but it seems a bit weird to go to a party with a man she’s just met.  “I would love to go but - I’m still on the clock and I have a lot of work to finish up.” 

“It’s okay Y/N ya don’t have to lie to me. I get that I’m an athlete and that sometimes we don’t have the best reps. People think we’re rude jerks. If you don’t wanna go ya can just say it, I understand.” 

“No, it’s not that - I don’t think you’re - its just - I mean, I just met you.” 

Atsumu begins to think on his feet. “Well, you know my name, you know that I have a twin brother, that I play volleyball. I’m an open book anything ya want to know, I’ll tell ya.”

Hearing this seems to make Y/N shy, Atsumu runs with this. “I’m not playing any games, I promise. Sure, I thought ya were pretty when I first saw ya, but I just want ya to get to know ya. I feel this connection between us, even if we did just meet. Kinda rare don’t ya think?”

Y/N seems skeptical. Atsumu continues though, “Come to this party with me, I promise to treat ya right. We can take this opportunity to get to know each other. Have some fun. I know this might sound weird but I just think that you seem real special. I promise if ya come there’ll be no funny business.” He makes an “X“ over his heart, signifying a promise and gives her his best smile.

“I dunno, Atsumu, you seem nice but like I said we just met, plus I have a ton of work to do to help close up.” 

“Why don’t I tell ya a little bit more about myself and you can decide if ya want to come or not. I was born in the Hyogo prefecture. I’ve played volleyball all my life. I’m actually here in Tokyo for a recruitment camp in the hopes I can get scouted to a team.”

“Wow, that must be exciting”

“It is, all my life I’ve wanted to play volleyball. I knew I was destined for it. It’s in my blood, I know it is. It’s the only real true calling I’ve ever had.”

Y/N seems touched by his words, gives a small smile, “I bet you’re really good then, to have made it to a recruitment camp.”

Atsumu smiles at her, a genuine one, “Thanks.”

Y/N is torn, she wants to go with Atsumu and get to know him, but she’s never done anything like this before. She feels a bit flustered. “Atsumu, I’d really like to go with you, but I gotta finish cleaning up.” She begins to resume cleaning up. 

Atsumu perks up at this, “What if I help ya out?” He’s getting desperate he can sense the hesitation in Y/N, it’s now or never at this point.”

“I don’t know that doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

Y/N’s words fall on silent ears as Atsumu begins to “help” clean up, although who knows if help is the right word for it. What little he achieves in helping clean up, he makes up for in charming Y/N. As they clean up together, they begin to talk more and get to know each other. Atsumu still asking her if she would like to come with, but Y/N is still hesitant. 

They finish up in record time, as Y/N sets a chair up on a table, but as she goes to turn around she trips over a box that Atsumu must have left on the floor in his “attempts” to help her clean. 

Before she can hit the ground, Atsumu races over to her and catches her in his arms. Mere inches apart, close enough to kiss, there is apparent electricity flowing between them. Maybe Atsumu was right earlier about a rare connection.  A moment passes between them only for them to immediately separate as they were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Rose. He shakes away the thought from a moment ago. 

“Y/N, honey, you need to change the sign on the door, we’re closed.” She says the last part more to Atsumu than Y/N.  As quickly as she arrived, Rose turns back. 

Atsumu looks at the clock once again and sees that he only has 30 minutes before the party is supposed to start. He realizes that maybe he’ll just have to accept defeat. “Well I guess I gotta head out. I’m glad we met Y/N, you’re a sweet girl. Maybe we’ll meet again one day. Still, it’s a shame. I thought that maybe if ya came with me, well who knows. Maybe we coulda -“ He pauses for a moment, lingering on a thought hoping she’ll say she’s changed her mind. When he senses that she won’t he, he gives up, “Anyway, have a good night.” 

Atsumu goes and turns for the door. Y/N watches him go, she’s torn as she considers going. It feels like time moves slowly as Atsumu gets closer and closer to the door. He has his hand on the handle as Y/N shouts at him, causing him to stop. “Atsumu, wait. I’ve changed my mind. I’m gonna go with ya, just let me run upstairs to my apartment to change!”

Atsumu smiles, feeling victorious, “Okay!”

“Okay!” Y/N turns towards the stairs to her apartment then stops. “Atsumu, I’ve never - what kind of party is it?”

“A party, party.”

“Should I dress up?”

Thinking this is too good to be true Atsumu responds, “Yeah, you should dress up, go all out if ya want!”

“Okay” Y/N’s excited as she runs up the stairs towards her apartment, tripping on the first step, then pauses looking at Atsumu hoping he didn’t catch that. 

Atsumu just pretends he didn’t see, as Y/N continues run upstairs. Excited about going to the party with Atsumu. 

As soon as Y/N is out of sight. Atsumu decides to wait outside, laughing at his incredible luck. Relief washes over him. “I can’t believe I did it! I’m totally gonna win now!” Now all he needs to do is wait for Y/N to come down. 

[drumboydowoon]

Woof Woof | Stray Kids Au

Chapter Four / Too Many Convenient and Awkward Run Ins

Werewolf!Chan au

Warning / language

Words / 5.3K+

Masterlist

--------

What did you get yourself into this time…?

The question repeats itself over and over again. There’s no point in trying to make sense of it. Maybe if you give yourself some time, the pieces will magically fall into place and everything will become clear somehow. All you want to do right now is wash the dirt and crunched up leaves out of your hair. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t where you normally live, so you have none of your own products to use. Now you get to use the men’s shampoo and body wash, which is even more unfortunate. You can only hope the musky smell isn’t overpowering for people to notice. 

Lost in your own world while washing out the soap, you don’t register the first knock on the door. It’s not until the second louder knock, that you jump and your foot slips on the wet tile. A yelp escapes you as you lose balance. Thankfully, you’re smart enough to grab onto the rail attached to the wall, or you might have had a painful accident. By the time you steady yourself, your heart is racing in your chest.

“Are you okay??” Chan’s unwelcomingly familiar voice calls from the other side of the bathroom door, which you instantly recognize as his. What’s worse than having a heart attack because someone caught you off guard while you’re just trying to get clean? Having Chan being the someone catching you off guard. 

Shakily, you pull back the shower curtain so he can hear you from outside the streaming water, “Yes?” you answer, thinking you’re probably okay, but the hesitance in your tone tells you otherwise. This already feels like it’s going to be weird. 

“You kinda left in a hurry, so I uhm… figured you might need a towel and some new clothes,” he guesses, not exactly knowing what to say. Not only is talking to someone through a door awkward enough, but it’s extremely awkward talking to the person, who just found out you’re a supernatural being.

Ever since he woke up, his mind has been foggy with flashes of hazy memories resurfacing slowly, but surely. Not everything is entirely clear, but he can piece how things may have gone down last night. The worst image he can remember is you in the middle of the woods, desperately scampering away from him. For some awful reason, he remembers seeing the fear on your face. 

He’s felt guilty ever since he started to recall some of the previous night’s events, and now he has no clue how to act. Well, he’s never known how to act around you in the first place since you’ve never been close with each other. All hopes of getting to know each other though, are probably thrown out the window now that you might end up hating them all. 

You furrow your brow. Honestly, you hadn’t even thought about asking for any of those things. That was the last thing on your mind at the time. An odd pause later, you finally respond to him, “A-alright, just leave them outside the door please....” There’s no way in hell that you’re going to open the door for him. 

There’s some shuffling around on his end, then a second later he calls out to you again, “Okay!” You figure that he must have set the clothes down onto the ground by now. He’s still standing outside, mustering up the courage to keep talking, “Do you need anything else?” he asks, wondering if he’s forgetting anything, even though you never asked him to bring anything to you in the first place. 

You shake your head before you realize that he can’t see you and that he actually needs to hear you. “Nope! All good,” you rush out a little too quickly and you cringe at it. Can you be anymore obvious?

“Alright, I’m just gonna go then...” he mumbles, but it’s loud enough that you can still hear it through the door that separates you. He stays in place for a second longer, waiting for he doesn’t even know what until he shakes it off and heads off. As he leaves, he murmurs curses to himself and repeats all the embarrassing things he said. 

Mentally, you sigh in relief when you hear his footsteps fading down the hall. To be honest, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep calm (even though earlier interactions proved you weren’t calm at all). But you’ve managed to not make a run for it so far. It’s surprising, really. You know that the newfound discoveries are something to frighten, but there’s so much going on, you can’t feel scared at all. The fight or flight response has disappeared and you wish it would return from holiday. Because then at least you wouldn’t feel the searing hot fumes going through your mind. 

The boys have been acting completely different from last night and are actually being quite normal. It’s good to see, but you still can’t shake off the fact that they still hurt and, most importantly, lied to you. Yes, you’re still worried, but that does not overweigh the feeling of betrayal and many other words to describe how utterly infuriated and upset you are. 

Finally turning off the shower, you ring the water out of your hair and step out. Hastily, you walk over to the door while the cool air breezes against your body, making you shiver with each step. When you open the bathroom door, you glance down both ends of the hall to make sure no one’s in sight. When the coast is clear, you slip the clothes and fluffy towel inside the bathroom. 

It doesn’t take very long to dry off and get dressed. The clothes feel baggy and much bigger than your normal clothes. The orange-red flannel stops midway down your thighs while the sleeves conceal any evidence of you having hands. And the sweats you’re wearing are barely being held up by the pull string you’ve had to really tighten around your waist.

Whoever’s clothes these may be, should really get some clothes that actually fit them. You know for a fact that none of these boys are wearing clothes this big. They’re all tiny. The only exception would be Hyunjin, but you know damn well that he doesn’t live here, so he’s out of the picture. 

Once you finish getting dressed, you cautiously step out of the bathroom and check to see if anyone is around. Once you see that you are clear from any surprises, you make your way down the hallway. Just as you’re about to turn a corner that would lead you to the stairs, someone else rounds the corner as well, scaring you perfectly half to death. A yelp escapes you for probably the hundredth time this morning, but you quickly shut yourself up by covering your mouth. 

The two of you don’t collide into each other, thankfully. He manages to hit the brakes before he could send one of you, or both of you, crashing down. You look up, and your eyes widened. Chan stands in front of you with a grimace as he stammers for an apology for multiple evident reasons. Both of you are standing in such close proximity that at some point, he accidentally swipes up his hand to push back his hair because that’s what boys do when they’re nervous wrecks, which ends up brushing against your stomach and over the scars hiding underneath the clothing. 

The sudden touch makes you wince a gasp because of the stinging sensation that follows afterwards. Chan’s not even sure what he did, but he’s profusely letting another round of apologies fall from his mouth. Then it occurs to him that he might’ve touched some kind of injury or something sensitive, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I-I” it takes a moment and a deep breath to calm himself down. All while you’re just standing there, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with him. 

He sighs to himself, “God, I’m probably scaring you right now… Good job…” he mumbles mostly to himself while rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

That wasn’t entirely true. In fact, it was more funny than anything seeing him get so flustered. Yet you still can’t shake off that certain feeling and you can’t drop your guard quite yet. So instead of laughing like you would’ve had if this was a normal circumstance (which it is not) your gaze drops to the floor and your mouth keeps itself in a thin line. 

Chan mutters a few more things to himself that are undecipherable before finally settling down. “Are you okay?” he calmly asks with a soft voice, much different than the one he used when asking if you were dead when he scared the shit out of you earlier. You only nod in response, watching your shoes kick at the air. His tone is sympathetic, “I saw the scratches earlier... Here, let me help you clean them. You don’t wanna get them infected,” he says, ready to grab your arm and drag you away. 

Your mind immediately goes into overdrive and forces panic down your throat. Before he could pull you away, you take a step back and give him a deadly, shaking look. For a moment, the briefest expression of hurt crosses his face, but he brushes it off just as fast. “At least get Minho or Ji to clean them out…” he says, somewhat disappointed, “I mean it when I say that they’ll get infected,” he states. He stands there a second longer than he should’ve, but he needs to make sure you know that he’s serious. Then moments later, he walks past you, seemingly eager to get out of that weird situation. 

You huff as soon as he leaves. A heavy weight lounges around your chest, feeling guilty that you brushed him off like that. Then again, this is the same guy who pinned you to a tree and was almost about to make you into a chew toy. You had every right to be wary of him touching you. 

So with that in mind, you march downstairs and make your way to the kitchen, where two of your non-wolf friends would hopefully be. You decide that it’s best to take Chan’s advice and get one of the boys to help you disinfect your wounds, or who knows what will happen. Besides, it’s not like you can do it when you get back to campus, or you are sure your roommate will have a bucket load of questions to shoot at you. 

When you arrive at the kitchen, Jisung’s the only one there. He sits alone at the table, staring off into space with his pink sleeve covered hand holding his chin. He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears your footsteps coming closer. Perking up, he stands from his chair and almost knocks it backwards. “F-feel better now?” he asks as a conversation starter, ignoring how he almost tipped over the furniture. 

“Somewhat,” you answer half-heartedly. Jisung nods his head in thought, seemingly getting lost in his own world again. Before he dazes off again, you speak up, “You guys wouldn’t happen to have any peroxide or rubbing alcohol, would you?” 

His face scrunches up, “Why do you need that?” 

Rolling your eyes, you lazily lift the baggy shirt you’re wearing to reveal your waist and stomach littered with marks. Jisung’s eyes almost pop out of his head, “Oh my god! That looks fucking gross!” His eyes continue to wander over the terrain of your skin, scanning over the thin, yet long, narly tears in your skin like it's the latest attraction. 

“Not like you look any better, scar face,” you let go of the bundle of cloth and let the shirt drop back down while giving Jisung the finger. Sighing, you run a hand through your wet hair, “I don’t even remember getting these.” A lot happened, so there’s probably a lot of other things that escaped your memory.

Jisung continues to look down at your, now covered torso, in thought, “Hold on, I think I remember where we put the band aids and stuff. One sec,” he mumbles, stalking off towards one of the many cabinets behind the kitchen counter. He digs through them until he finds just what he’s looking for. He bundles up a few items in his arms and carries them back to the table, letting them all fall from his hold at once. 

He holds up a brown bottle of peroxide, shaking it towards you while he raises his other hand with some dressings, “You do me, I do you?” he puffs out his bottom lip, where there’s an obvious crack. For a second you stare, then shrug because there’s no harm in fixing his fucked up face that’s trashed with both gashes and a bit of blooming purple bruising. 

The two of you both move the chairs so you’re facing each other. First you open up the brown bottle and dip in a q-tip that Jisung brought in his little bundle, and dip it in. After you wet it, Jisung follows suit, and wets a cloth instead. He reaches for the edge of your shirt, “Can I?” he asks. You simply nod, then he lifts part of the fabric just enough to reveal your wounds again. 

He’s first to feel the sting of the alcohol against his cheek. Flinching, he pulls back momentarily, but proceeds to do the same to you once he becomes used to the feeling of you touching him. Without fail, both of you grumble curses through the pain. And every few seconds one of you swears at the other for using too much pressure. 

During one particularly painful slap to the arm because Jisung couldn’t stop squirming, Minho steps into the room, watching the both of you with a weird mix of amusement and confusion. He announces his presence by clearing his throat. Eyes snap to him like they’re children who were just caught doing something they shouldn’t be. 

“You’re looking awfully you again, Y/n,” he comments, noticing how you’ve significantly calmed down from your freak out earlier. He’s not sure if he should be thankful or concerned about the sudden shift. You agree with him. It’s strange. Maybe this is what “being in shock” means. 

“What? Rather me scream and cuss at you for leaving me down in the basement with a bunch of werewolves?” the word still feels foreign on your tongue, and it nearly makes you want to laugh just saying it. 

Both Minho and Jisung freeze in place, eyes bulging out of their sockets. You raise a brow at them, impatiently waiting for an explanation. That should’ve been the first thing you asked since crawling out of their basement, but it somehow slipped your mind when you panicked. Now that your mind is a little more aligned, you can properly question everything that has led to this moment, starting with an interrogation on why they thought it was a good idea to trap you with three very dangerous men without any precaution whatsoever. 

While their mouths gaped open, searching for a possible explanation like a bunch of fish out of water, two other bodies come rounding the corner seconds later. 

“You did WHAT?!” Chan’s voice squeaks as Hyunjin follows closely and just in as much shock as the elder. His mouth hangs open, lacking the ability to believe they actually did that. 

Adding more fuel to the already growing fire, Hyunjin points out, “You know… None of us were chained up like we were supposed to be when we woke up.” Crossing his arms across his chest, Hyunjin, along with you and Chan, look towards the two expectantly for a  good explanation. 

The duo in question are stunned in place, one stumbling for an explanation, while the other goes bug-eyed with no clue how to respond. Luckily, the latter’s silence doesn’t sit for long, which is really good for Minho. Jisung knows how to open his big mouth at the wrong times and right times. “Not like we had a choice since you wouldn’t let go of your brand new Y/n sized plushy...” he blurts out, mumbling the last part as he slowly begins to realize what he said. Immediately, Jisung shuts his mouth and finds the corner of the room far more interesting than this conversation. He can already feel the tension in the ever suffocating atmosphere.

Hyunjin bursts into laughter, and in that moment, Chan’s entire face lights up with embarrassment. The only thing he can manage to do is stare in disbelief since all forms of communications seemed to have completely shut down in that big brain of his.

Figuring it would be best if he tries to fix this mess, if only a little bit, Minho speaks up, “It’s not like we just left you down there without any precautions,” he assures you, “We obviously used the Diazepam, so you guys would stay down for the night. We’re not that stupid,” he says, sounding like he’s not entirely stupid. Keyword: sounding. Not too convincing. 

“So you were using drugs!” you exclaim at the fact that they told you many times that drugs weren’t the issue. 

Hyunjin groans, ignoring you all together “No wonder I feel like I have a hangover. How much did you use?”

“How much do you think it takes to knock out a super powered werewolf for the rest of the night?” Minho hints, letting him take a wild guess that they had to use a lot of the calming drug. 

Drugged or not, it doesn’t make it okay that two of your so called “friends” left you alone, in a basement, with werewolves (that you still can’t fully grasp the idea of). Something deep within the back of your mind stirs and it’s only getting hotter by the second. While the group of boys continue their heated debate about how they shouldn’t have let this happen in the first place, Hyunjin can’t help but think. This technically never would have happened if… 

Glancing over to you, Hyunjin calls attention to you and him, “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now if a certain someone never came over in the first place,” he notes while having absolutely no idea who you are. The most he remembers being told is that you’re a friend of theirs, but that’s all really. He didn’t care much when you became the topic of conversation since you sounded like such an utterly boring prude.

Suddenly all eyes are once again making their way back to you. You scoff at the accusation. It’s true. Maybe none of the night’s events would have happened if you never showed up, but you know full and well that they can’t entirely place fault on you. “Really? It’s not like I just decided to come over out of the blue! I literally asked Felix if I could come over, so I could give him the notes he missed in class, and he said it was fine!” you argue heatedly, “And like hell I was going to bike all the way out here in the middle of nowhere just to be ignored after I was told I could come over. Do you know how exhausting that is, especially after working for a few hours?!”

By the time you finish your rant, you’re out of breath. But most importantly, you’re pissed off. Looks of surprise run across their faces, which only serves as something to make you even more heated. Did Felix not say anything on purpose? Is that why he’s not in sight whatsoever? He probably didn’t want to face the consequences for being so dumb in the moment. Somewhere deep down though, you wish he was here too. But then again, you most likely would yell at him too.

There’s complete silence and you’re getting tired of the quiet. Giving up, you turn away and walk, beginning to head for the front door again. “I’m leaving,” you declare, each step you take leaves a stomp of many frustrations. 

That deep feeling at the back of your mind is on fire now, readying to explode at any moment. You thought that a shower would calm down your thoughts somewhat, and they did. But rather than being the awkwardly scared person you were before, you’re now seriously furious and lost. 

“Y/n,” Minho tries to call out to you, but you ignore him this time. You couldn’t even be bothered enough to tell them to fuck off. You pick up your bag that was left by the front door, and sling it over our shoulder.

At last, you’re able to open the front door without trouble. The cool breeze hits your face like a refreshing breath of air. Behind you, you can hear a few hushed whispers, but you ignore it. Just as you’re about to take your first step outside, a hand places itself on your shoulder, spinning you around to face Hyunjin’s glowering face, inches away from your own. 

He looks downright menacing with that resting bitch face. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you?” he asks, sounding almost threatening. Something tells you that you better answer correctly, or you can expect not so good things in your near future. 

Taking a step back, you scoff while shoving his hold off of you. “Don’t touch me,” you hiss, giving him the glaring of a lifetime. 

“I don’t really know who you are, but if you’re really their friend, you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut,” he closes the distance between the two of you again. He stares down at you, not appreciating the sass you gave him at all. 

“Hyunjin, that’s enough,” Chan raises his voice from behind him. Arms crossed with authority. 

From Chan’s right, Jisung sees a figure quickly approaching. His mouth drops open, trying to find the words, but Hyunjin’s voice cuts through as he looks down at you like you’re nothing but a stain on his shoe. “You know what happens when you tell friend’s secrets, right? They always-”

Before Hyunjin can even finish, he’s yanked away from you, leaving nothing but a gust of air in his absence. Suddenly, his body is slammed into the wall next to you with none other than Felix pinning him against it with his arm holding down his chest. “Chan said that’s enough,” he warns, his voice deep and vibrating. It’s surprising to see Felix. He’s the last person you expected to come to your rescue. You thought for sure that he would never show his face to you again. 

All Hyunjin does is stare back defiantly, like he’s holding back a storm of anger. After a few seconds of heavy breathing and awkward silence, Hyunjin rolls his eyes, shoving the younger away, “Whatever. I’m getting my shit and going home. If she peeps a word, we’re done for. I hope you all realize that,” he advises, looking between the only other two werewolves in the room. 

Felix takes a step back to allow the other to move past. The only cost for Hyunjin’s safe passage upstairs is the dark looks looming in the eyes of all watching him stomp away.  Felix watches him walk until he’s completely out of sight. When he turns back to the group, he avoids everyone’s stares, opting to look anywhere but you or the others. 

“I think I should get going,” you say, breaking the tension to focus it all back onto you again. You turn to leave again. Just as you take a step outside, Chan calls out to you one last time, “He’s right, you know? Please don’t mention this to anyone.” 

Unlike Hyunjin, Chan’s words don’t feel like a threat, but rather a request. There’s really no need to sound so pleading. To be entirely truthful, you’re still sorting your thoughts. Besides, who would you even tell that would actually believe you? Werewolves? If you even brought it up, you’d for sure be labeled as the town’s crackcase. Even if you did have someone who believed you, what would be the point? Sure you were banged up a bit, but you’re not dead yet. 

“Don’t worry. My mouth is sealed,” you sigh, surprised that any one of them were able to hear it. Felix, who is looking like a kicked puppy, perks up the slightest, yet he still refuses to look into your eyes. Not wanting to talk anymore, you finally take another step forward to begin your long journey back home. 

As you walk toward the front gate, you happen to come across your now totally wrecked bike. The poor thing has dents in it that make it nearly unrideable. But if there’s a will, there’s a way. So with very poor judgement, and after walking it past the iron gate, you hop on the crooked seat and pedal, hoping that the frame doesn’t crush underneath you. It would be very unfortunate if your trusty steed gave up on you now.

It takes some time before you reach sweet civilization again. All werewolf and liar thoughts are far from your mind and where you abandoned them. The only thing on your brain is how you’ve never appreciated the warmth and softness of your shitty mattress until now. You miss it dearly, even if it does give you back problems. 

As your bike wobbles down the road, and you earn a few stares from passerbyers, you pass by your work. Mentally, you thank the almighty force above that you don’t have to work tonight. You’re not sure you could handle the stress of having to deal with the fact that you’re friends with a dog, along with some petty teenagers trying to prove that they’re 21 with those baby faces of theirs. It’s a cute attempt, but it never works. 

By the time you finally make it back to your dorm, your legs are exhausted and you feel like your entire body is weighing you down. Usually you would take the stairs to get to your room, so you can avoid the awkwardness of being in a full elevator with a bunch of girls who are trying to sneak out their boyfriends (very poorly done by the way). 

When you open the door to your shared room, you are almost immediately bombarded with the smell of heavy perfume. It’s not a terrible smell. There’s just too much of it. 

“Jesus, what are you trying to do? Smoke out the whole building?” you ask as you step into the room. You shrug off your bag and toss it onto your bed along with the rest of your body. A heavy sigh leaves you as you rejoice that you’re finally home. 

Your roommate, and somewhat close friend, Yerim, rolls her eyes. She doesn’t even bother to look at you, instead she finishes painting the cherry lipstick on her lips, “Nice to see you’re back,” she comments, “Did you have fun at your boyfriend’s last night?” she asks, putting the cap back onto the tube and placing it down on her desk. 

“First of all, Felix isn’t my boyfriend. That would be like dating my brother, and that’s a disgusting thought. Secondly, how did you know that’s where I was?” 

Yerim snorts, “You somehow knew exactly who I was talking about,” she laughs a little more, “I just figured you would go where you always go. It’s not like you actually do much.” Ah, her deduction skills are on point as always. 

You raise a brow at her through the mirror she’s looking at. Her vanity is covered with different products and a few stray pencils and pens. In front of her sits a laptop, playing some news channel as her white noise. Honestly, Yerim is probably one of the prettiest girls you know. Whether she’s bare faced or covered in makeup, she still manages to turn heads in her direction. Maybe you would envy her if she didn’t have every guy that comes into contact with her, hit on her and try to get a number. Sounds too annoying to deal with. 

“What about the other ones? I’m sure that dude… what’s his name again? Minjun? Mingi??” she tuts out her lip, trying to remember the name, “The one who acts like a cat.”

It’s sad that she can’t remember your friend’s names, but it’s even sadder that you know exactly who she’s referring to. “Minho?” you finally throw her the bone. 

“Yeah him! Anyways, I think he’s into you, isn’t he?” she asks, clearly unaware of your distaste of dating any one of your friends. 

Groaning, “He’s not my boyfriend either, and he’s not into me either.” You’re quick to shut down any of that kind of conversation. Not only is it weird to think about your friends like that, but also because you rather avoid talking about them all together. “Can we talk about something else? Like why are you getting all dressed up all of a sudden?” Changing the subject to make it about her is the only way to escape the awkwardness of boys. 

“Me? Well, would you be surprised if I said I had a date?” 

“Nope. Not at all-”

“We’re now at the scene, where the body was found in Blackbear Park. It was found earlier this morning when a jogger ran past it and saw the mauled body hidden behind a tree. We are unsure of what the cause is, but the police are suspecting an animal wandered from the surrounding forest and attacked the unidentified person late last night,” the reporter’s voice broadcasts throughout the room, being much more than just simple white noise. It cuts through any talk and focuses all attention onto the information being spread.

Yerim finally looks down at her laptop to watch the report. There’s a small frown on her lips, “That sounds awful, dear god. Hey, didn’t you pass that park on your way back?” Looking away from the laptop, she faces you with a questioning gaze. 

That does sound terrible. The thought is too gruesome for your liking. You sit up a little, bending your elbows behind you, “No, I went a different way so I wouldn’t get caught up with all the traffic. I guess it’s a good thing I went that way.” A really good thing. You could only imagine the amount of people and officers surrounding the scene. Being caught up is the last thing you need to top off the day. 

Yerim nods thoughtfully, “That’s good. I’m glad that you got back safe. Who knows what I would do if you were to get eaten by a bear. Who would be my wing woman then?” she sighs, staring at you for a second. She can’t hold her expression of seriousness for long, and she ends up giggling. You take hold of one of the pillows on your bed and throw it in her direction, causing her to raise her arms and protect herself from the attack, “Hey! I don’t think you realize how much time I wasted trying to get these wings to look even!” she shrieks, pointing to her winged eyeliner. 

Chuckling, you roll over to your side to cuddle into your sheets. “Thanks for caring about me so much,” the sarcasm couldn’t be more obvious. It almost feels nice having a normal conversation. Laughing right now is a little strange, but you’re glad Yerim was able to take your mind off all the madness, even if it is for a moment. 

The older girl scoffs, “Just for that, I’m going to ask about the boy clothes you’re wearing. So which guy is it from, hm?” she teasingly hints. 

“Oh my god shut up,” you groan into the mattress.