#I pour water into them and then immediately drain it out again

[alaspoon]

it’s a cereal and ice cream for dinner kind of day tbh

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green

WC: 1329 Masterpost CW: stitches, blood, canon typical violence, history of experimentation, bad (lbh evil) parent Fentons “I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

“We should be able to arrange a conversation,” Tim said immediately. None of the shock and concern that Tim must have been feeling seeped through into his words. Jason always admired how even keel Tim could seem.

The kid’s eyes snapped to Tim, brow furrowed in confusion.

Tim just shrugged. “He does good in the city, so do we. Besides, his kids are targeted a lot and sometimes we get involved to help out with that. There’s a line of communication that we can use.”

“So what?” They rasped. “You let every kid who wants to talk to Bruce Wayne get to just ‘cause they’re bleeding out?”

“He’d say that was a good enough reason,” Jason said with certainty. He knew how much money and effort Bruce poured into Make a Wish and the children's hospital.

The kid squinted at him before glancing away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him… like this…”

“Then a safe house for right now,” Tim insisted. “Just like the name says, it’s safe. We can get you patched up and you can rest somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder. When you’re feeling better, we’ll set up that meeting.”

“You’ll let a stranger stay at your safe house, just like that?”

“Kid,” Jason said with a sigh. “I don’t think you’re getting it. You’re a very hurt kid. You’re exactly the type of person that we’d do that for. We’re the Bats of Gotham and we protect her people.”

There was that ugly laugh again. “I’m not even from Gotham.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters in Gotham,” Jason said. He took the risk and held out his hand. Jason didn’t pray anymore, not since his mother died, but he still silently hoped that the kid would take it. Jason felt certain they wouldn’t make it if they didn’t take it.

The fingers braced against the grimy cinder block wall twitched. Then the hand reached out. The kid collapsed forward into the motion and Jason lunged to catch them. He lifted them gently, worried about how light they were.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The kid hid their face against Jason’s jacket. Their words were almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t know if you can.”

“Never underestimate what a stubborn Bat can do, Kid.”

-

The kid passed out halfway to the safe house. It was probably for the best. Their injuries were… extensive would be too kind of a word.

Tim laid down a plastic sheet on the bed before Jason deposited the kid down on it. The hoodie, which couldn’t be the kid’s at that size, had to be practically peeled off. The main wound that must have been the blood splatter he noticed was the immediate concern, but it was everything else that worried Tim more.

This was more than signs of abuse, this was torture or experimentation. Those scars and wounds cut into the kid’s arms and torso was far too even and controlled. There were other, messier scars that looked like burns and stab wounds. The inside of their elbows were littered with track marks and their hands bruised from what must have been IV ports. The worst for Tim was seeing the metal collar around the kid’s neck, but he knew that wasn’t what was getting Jason. He didn’t need to see Jason’s eyes to tell they were glued to the track marks.

“Go take five and fill a bowl up with warm water,” Tim said.

“Red—”

“Hood,” Tim snapped, cutting off Jason’s growl. Tim had suffered Jason’s bite, the bark didn’t scare him anymore. Besides, they understood each other these days. They were the Bats will willing blood on their hands. “Go take five. They’re not going anywhere and I need your help to patch them up, so go take five and get your head on, okay?”

The fight drained out of Jason like a string had been cut. He nodded and stalked off to the tiny kitchen that was basically an afterthought to the living room. It was hardly their most glamorous safe house but it was close, had two bedrooms, and was secure, despite it’s shoddy appearance.

Tim had the old bandages and scraps of cloth peeled off by the time Jason came back to start cleaning away the green blood.

“We need to get antibiotics for them from Leslie,” Jason said after the worst was cleaned up.

“Definitely. This new wound is from a knife and some of these were wrapped with what I think was an old hospital scrub.”

“Lends credence to…”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded stiffly. “This needs stitches.”

“Luckily I think bandages are fine for everything else,” Tim said.

He snapped off the nitrate gloves and put on a fresh pair. He carefully numbed the skin around the wound while he waited for Jason to be in a spot to hold the kid down should they wake up. The first few stitches went fine. Tim took the time to be extra neat. The kid didn’t need any worse scars because of his sloppy work.

Tim had just started on the forth one when the kid started to stir. They twitched and whimpered in their sleep. Jason pressed down carefully to keep them from moving too much.

“No, Mom, please, I’m your son! I’m not— Don’t… not again. I’ll be good…”

Tim looked up at the impassive red helmet.

“I’m good. I have him. Just keep stitching so we can get him tucked in to bed.”

“Okay,” Tim said and got back to work. It was hard to ignore the whimpered words and everything they implied, but Tim needed to focus. There would be time to start looking into everything after.

It was as he was cleaning up that Jason threw a wrench into things.

“Don’t run his DNA.”

“What?” Tim hissed, rounding on Jason. “That is clearly Bruce’s kid in there!”

“Exactly. It’s obviously his kid, there’s no doubt in that with the way he looks. And just as obviously he’s been tortured or experimented on. Don’t you think he’s been stripped of his privacy enough?”

All the fight bled out of Tim an instant. “Fuck. I didn’t think… I just wanted to…”

“I know. You wanted to help by solving this, but that’s not what this kid needs right now. So hold off until he feels safe enough to consent, okay?”

“Okay, no, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Red,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair with a wet hand. “Creepy stalking is just your way of caring, I get it. Just pull back a little this time. You can focus on that collar he’s wearing right now.”

Tim shuddered. “That thing needs to go. Am I staying on watch then?”

“If you’re fine with that. I’ll get Oracle to call the others to the Cave.”

“Sure,” Tim said. He didn’t want to miss that conversation, but someone had to stay with the kid and he was a better choice to get the collar off. “Just make sure I have a comm line in.”

“Of course. Can’t have you missing out on us discussing the old man’s sex life.”

“Ugh, never mind, I don’t need a comm line!”

“Too late!” Jason called out with a laugh as he headed for the door.

Tim flicked him off just to do so.

After double checking that the place was secure, Tim pulled out a tool bag. At least he could start by testing the collar for explosive residue or other traps that would keep Tim from taking it off. The thought of the collar being rigged made him sick to his stomach, but it fit too well with the canvas of scars that the kid bore.

“Who did this to you, Kid?” Tim asked, even though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. “And how soon can Hood put a bullet in their head for you?”

--- AN: So here's a little more of this for Trauma Tuesday! The Reds are very concerned! I'm still having fun writing a Jason and Tim who get along and understand each other in a way the other 'we don't kill' Bat's don't, threats of murder and all.

Sorry if there are lots of mistakes (I don't need them corrected, ty), it's been a bad fatigue spell here. Still hope you enjoyed it and stay delightful, darlings!

(Oh, and there's another continuation to the OG threaded to it by chroma if you want a different take!)

Masterpost you can subscribe to, as I no longer tag people!

[mapis-putellas]

[ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴛꜱ ]

Summary: You never intended to meet the love of your life on a random Friday at work, and you definitely never thought she’d be world famous footballer Alexia Putellas.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

You had a total of five new Spanish words in your vocabulary by the time you got home that evening, your phone tightly clutched in your hands as you distractedly stumble into your apartment and kick off your shoes before closing and locking the door behind you.

It was all beginners stuff admittedly, but you figure you had to start somewhere. Throwing yourself into the deep end by trying to learn full sentences this soon would only end in disaster; as much as you would like that to not be the case.

In all honesty, you weren't too confident in being able to learn a whole other language. You'd never been able to do so before, especially in school when you'd been forced to take French. The only thing you could remember how to say was hello and my name is. If you dug deep down perhaps you could remember how to count to ten too, but that was really all you had.

But Alexia seemed to know English okay, so perhaps you just needed to learn how to understand Spanish not necessarily how to speak it. Was that the easy way out? Probably. But it was definitely a little less daunting.

Your socked feet pad softly against the wooden floor as you make your way through to the kitchen with the intention of fixing something quick for dinner, settling quickly on some craft Mac and cheese that you immediately grab out of the pantry. It may not be healthy, but it was definitely tasty and right now that was all you needed.

You set your phone down, still open on Duolingo as you fill a pan with water and set it down onto the heat. Leaving that to do its thing, you hurry through to your bedroom to change into some comfy clothes. You'd been in a shirt and jeans all day, and it was pretty much safe to say you were over it. People who wore jeans to relax were complete psychopaths and no one could ever convince you otherwise and that's not even mentioning people that sleep in a bra.

It wasn't long until you were back into the kitchen clad in a pair of pyjama shorts along with an oversized shirt, your dirty clothes kicked to the corner of your room to be dealt with later. By now, the water was boiling, and you pour the box of noodles into it before giving it a quick stir and disposing the box into the garbage.

Your phone buzzes against the counter just seconds later, and you scramble over to it, hoping it was the beautiful blonde you'd not been able to stop thinking about. When you see it was in fact her, you can't help but grin elatedly and pick up your phone, eyes skimming over the message.

Alexia: Hola. I hope you got home okay. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?

You: Hey Alexia. I did get home okay, thank you. I hope you did too. And yes I'm free :)

Was the smiley face too passive aggressive? It looked as though it was. Oh well, hopefully she thinks you were just trying to be nice.

Knowing that watching your phone for her reply would only make you all the more impatient, you drain the now cooked noodles at the sink before adding the powdered cheese and butter, giving it a thorough stir before shoving a spoonful into your mouth.

Yum.

The familiar buzzing greets you again just moments later, and your hands were reaching for your phone before your brain had given them permission to do so, the spoon still hanging from your mouth.

Alexia: Sí, I got home okay. Is one okay?

You: one is perfect

Alexia: I will pick you up

You: Sounds good

Alexia: I will see you then

You: Umm, Alexia?

Alexia: Sí?

You: Don't you need my address?

Alexia: Oh

Alexia: Yes please

You smile softly as you send her your address, liking the thumbs up she sends in response before locking your phone and tucking into the waistband of your shorts. Grabbing your bowl of Mac and cheese, you curl up on the corner of the couch beneath your favourite blanket and turn on the tv, only taking a few minutes unlike your usual twenty to decide on a show.

*

You were up the next day a little before ten am, the sun shining in through the partially open curtains opposite that you'd inevitably forgotten to close before finally dragging yourself to bed last night. Groaning quietly as you stretch your arms above your head, you let out a quiet exhale before kicking off and blankets and hauling yourself out of bed. You instinctively shiver when your feet meet the cold floor, yanking the hoodie strewn at the end of your bed over your head as you make your way through to the bathroom.

The sight of your reflection in the mirror makes you glad you have so much time before your date with Alexia, because it was evident you had a whole lot of work to do.

And with just ten minutes to spare, you find yourself standing in front of the mirror in your living room completely ready to go. Completely oblivious to Alexia's plans, you'd decided on an outfit that was more or less fit for any occasion. A loose white v-neck T-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. It was warm out today, so you'd tied a thin jacket around your waist. The chance of it actually raining was incredible low, but not completely impossible and you'd rather be safe than sorry.

Your makeup was light and natural, hair pulled up into a half up half down braid with a few loose strands left out to frame your face.

Not a hundred percent happy with how you look but figuring there was nothing you could really do about it, you blow out a deep breath through your mouth before grabbing your keys and wallet from the coffee table and making your way over to the front door. You feel the butterflies in your stomach return with a vengeance as you lock up behind you, and you hoped to god, as you make your way into the elevator and press the button to the ground floor, that it didn't show on your face.

Alexia would be here any minute, and whilst you could almost guarantee she'd be nervous too, you didn't want that to be the only thing you had in common resulting in a less than ideal first date.

You shake off the residual nerves as the elevator doors open, stepping out into the small lobby area just in time for the clock to reach one. As luck would have it, an unfamiliar car you assume is Alexia pulls into the small carpark just as you step outside. You pause by the entrance of your apartment building as you watch her pull her car to a stop, smiling slightly when you see her reach up to pull down the sun visor to get one last look at her reflection before pushing open the door and stepping out of the car.

The smile was immediately wiped from your face the second you see in the outfit she was wearing, your pulse suddenly pounding loudly in your ears as your fingers clench tightly around your phone.

On her body was a white, fitted cropped tank top that was not hiding the fact she wasn't wearing a bra, showing off her tanned, toned arms adorned with a few tattoos and a silver watch on her right wrist. The tank top also gives you a clear view of her...six pack?!

You make a futile effort of ignoring the way your legs turn into jelly as your eyes drop further down her body, taking in the pair of black, high waisted sweatpants that hugged her waist perfectly.

Oh yeah. She was definitely way out of your league. How on earth could someone like her ask someone like you out? You absolutely did not know, but right now, you couldn't quite find it in you to care. She looked insanely good, and only you had the pleasure of seeing that so up close and personal.

Alexia was soon making her way towards you whilst lifting the pair of sunglasses she was wearing to the top of her head, and you smile somewhat bashfully as you watch her look you up and down just as you had done with her. By the way her lips creep up into a satisfied smile you assume she likes what she was seeing and makes you feel a little more confident about the outfit you'd chosen.

Soon, she was in front of you, and the pounding in your heart amplifies when she leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. The feeling of her lips lingers as she pulls away, and you have to refrain from reaching up to touch it knowing that might make you seem a little weird.

"You look really, really good." You murmur with a tentative smile, and Alexia flushes almost bashfully as she tucks her hands into the back pockets of her sweatpants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to her arms at the casual action, and it was only when Alexia pointedly clears her throat do you realise what you were doing.

"Gracias, amor. You do too." She returns the compliment, thankfully not calling you out on your shameless staring as she holds out her hand. She does, however, raise an eyebrow teasingly, and you could so no more than shrug noncommittally you slot your hand into her own. With arms like that, how could you not stare? Asking you not to do so would be criminal.

Alexia seems pleased at your lack of embarrassment, giving your hand a soft squeeze as she gestures towards her car. "Are you ready to go?"

There was a confidence about her today that wasn't there yesterday giving you a little insight into how she may act around the people she both knows and trusts, and whilst a part of you thinks it may be a false bravado due to the fact she barely knows you, you had a feeling that if you played your cards right, one day it might end up being for real. 

One could only hope right? 

"Of course." You respond.

Her skin was both soft and warm, slender fingers intertwining with your own with an ease that you didn't quite expect as she guides you over to the car. She opens the passenger door without hesitation, waiting for you to slip inside and buckle up before rounding the vehicle and slipping into the drivers seat.

You get a hint of the perfume she was wearing as she situates herself, reaching back for her own seatbelt and buckling up. It smells like vanilla, you think. Subtle yet sweet. Just like her.

"So, can I know where we're going?" You question, eyes following her hands as she pulls down her sunglasses so they sat back on her nose. She glances at you as she starts the car, her lips quirking up into a teasing smile.

"It is a secret. I promise you will love it." She assures, checking her mirrors before backing out of the spot she'd parked in.

"What? Come on. I don't even get a hint?" You plead playfully, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Alexia smiles as she pulls out onto the main road, both hands steady on the wheel. "It will be fun?” She offers, and you huff out a quiet breath of amusement as you cross one leg over the other.

"Alexia, that's not a hint. I find so many things fun. Does it have something to do with food? Is it some sort of activity? Will we be getting messy?"

Alexia merely shrugs her shoulders as she purses her lips with a soft smile. She leans back in her seat a little, laying her hand palm up on the console between you. Her fingers wiggle invitingly, and you make direct eye contact with her as you rest your hand atop of her own, slotting your fingers in between hers.

"If I tell you, it will not be a surprise." She squeezes your hand softly.

You tilt your head to the side. "I am at least dressed right?"

"Sí," Alexia nods, her hand remaining intertwined with yours as she glances your way before bringing her attention back to the road. "You look perfect. Prometo."

"That means promise, right?" You check.

Alexia glances at you again, the awe in her voice evident as she speaks. "Muy bien!" She praises fondly, and you can't help but smile so wide your eyes crinkle up at the corners.

You knew knowing one word in Spanish wasn't really that big a deal, but the proudness in Alexia's voice makes you want to do it a thousand times over.

In the twenty minute car ride to wherever she was taking you, you share small talk about the basic ins and outs of your lives. You tell her your current favourite song, Alibi, and she tells you the football team she supports. Barcelona. You tell her a little about your family; how many siblings you had and what job your mom did, and she tells you her favourite things to do in her free time. Traveling and playing football. All in all it was pretty basic information, but you had to start somewhere, right?

You were just on the topic of your mediocre Spanish knowledge when Alexia slows the car down, indicating left and pulling into an unfamiliar car park. "You have been practicing?" She asks, pulling her hand out of your own putting on the handbrake.

"A little." You admit somewhat distractedly as you look around your surroundings in a futile effort at trying to figure out where you were. "Okay, where are we? Can I please know now?" You turn back round to face her.

"Soon." she smirks, and you glare at her playfully as you step out of the car, waiting for Alexia to do the same before once again reaching for her hand. They intertwine effortlessly, Alexia locking her car before gently guiding you down the street, only walking a couple hundred yards before gently pulling you to a stop in front a somewhat small looking building.

Through the window, you could see people sat at tables painting what looked to be pottery, and your eyes widen in pure delight as you turn to face an unsure looking Alexia.

"Is this-"

"Oh my god!" You laugh, jumping up and down slightly. "This is definitely not what I imagined but it's perfect. Let's go in! What are you going to paint? I think I know what I want to paint. Maybe we could paint each other something! This is so exciting!"

Alexia watches you ramble with a small grin on her face as she allows you to push the door open and all but pull her inside. You were both immediately greeted by an employee who was quick to get you all set up with your aprons, brushes and paints, both Alexia and you deciding that out of the two tables offered that you would take the one in the back for a little extra privacy. After setting down your things, the kind employee leads you to the shelves that held so many different pottery items it was hard to differentiate what was what.

Despite that, you can't help but be excited when you're both told to take your pick out of any of them.

You hook an arm around Alexia's waist so you could talk to her without disturbing anyone else. "Which one are you picking?"

Alexia tilts her head towards you as she loosely throws her arm over your shoulder. "You said you wanted to paint one for each other, sí? You pick for me, and I will pick for you."

"Okay," you agree easily, keeping your arm around her as your eyes flicker over the shelves. Though it takes a few minutes, you do finally settle on an adorable looking fox. "This one good?"

"Sí. Perfect. This one for me, yes?" Alexia holds out the one she'd chosen, it being a penguin. You nod your head, giving her waist a squeeze before guiding her back over to your designated table. Initially, she'd been sat opposite you, bur with a short glance your way, she moves her things over to the seat next you before sitting down.

You hide your smile at this, but do scoot your chair a little closer to her own so you weren't so far apart. Alexia glances at you, an eyebrow raised, but you merely gesture to the seat opposite that she'd abandoned earning yourself a guilty smile. With a soft laugh that Alexia mimics yet chooses to stifle, you hand over your fox and take her penguin in return.

"So," you start, picking up a paintbrush and dipping it into the black paint. "How did you come up with this idea?" You begin dragging your brush over the back of the penguin, using your free hand to hold it still which results in your fingers immediately becoming covered in paint.

Alexia hums quietly as she swirls her own brush around in the orange paint. "Uhhh, Mapi help...helped me come up with a few ideas. This was the best one."

"Yeah?" You glance her way, Alexia meeting your gaze with a tentative smile as she too begins painting.

"Sí. One of the ideas was...a balloon ride?" She tries unsurely, dipping her brush back into the orange paint.

You freeze mid stroke. "A hot air balloon ride?" You ask incredulously, and Alexia nods somewhat distractedly as she focuses on not getting any paint on her skin. The thought of being that high up in the sky with nothing to keep you from falling to your inevitable death makes you shudder internally. You were so glad she hadn't picked that option because otherwise she would have been going on a date with herself.

"Sí," she nods, looking up at you. She see's the somewhat unsettled look on your face and reaches a her free hand out to rest on top of your own that was laying dormant on the table. "You do not like heights?"

You shake your head with a small grimace. "No, not really." You admit, watching the way her thumb idly strokes the skin on the top of your hand. Was such a simple action supposed to cause butterflies?

"It is a good job I did not choose it then." She acknowledges, and you hum in an agreement as you get back to painting, your free hand still linked with Alexia's.

"That would have been an incredible first date though," you say as an afterthought. "A hot air balloon ride. Can you imagine that?" You laugh, and Alexia nods her head with a quiet chuckle.

"Sí. I could." She agrees, dunking her paintbrush into the water to get rid of the orange paint before pulling it out, drying it off and dipping it into the white paint. "Mapi nearly per...persuade?" You nod. "Persuade me, but I get her to change her mind."

"Wait, you were actually considering a hot air balloon ride for a hot second?"

Alexia nods her head.

"That's crazy expensive Alexia." You laugh a little in disbelief, finishing with the black paint and starting with the white.

"That does not matter. I could take you on ten hot air balloon ride and it will not affect me." She shrugs a little carelessly, and you stare at her in incredulity.

"I have a good job, amor, do not worry." She attempts to sooth you, squeezing your hand that was still holding her own.

You roll your shoulders before nodding your head. A part of you wants to ask just what job she did, but you didn't want to come off as rude or nosey.

"Okay, I think I'm done." You admit, setting your paintbrush down and turn the ceramic penguin to face her. Alexia looks up, her lips quirking up into a satisfied smile.

"That is very good. Muy bien." She praises, and you bow playfully earning yourself soft laugh. You make a silent reminder to yourself to make her laugh again before the dates over, because you'd never heard a sound so perfect.

Alexia finishes off the foxes nose before setting her paintbrush down too, using the tip of her finger to nudge it around so it was facing you. You lean in close, smiling at all the little details she'd made sure to add.

"That's perfect." You praise, bravely leaning in and kissing her cheek. Alexia smiles a little bashfully as her eyes briefly flicker down to your lips before she clears her throat and stands up. "We need to wash our hands, sí?" She gestures over to the far corner of the room.

Despite the fact Alexia didn't have a single speck of paint on her, you nod your head and follow her over to sink anyway. You take turns in washing your hands, allowing Alexia to dry your own for you when she shyly requests to do so. She then places her hand on the small of your back as she guides you back over to the table.

A joint effort was made in cleaning up your workspace, you playfully poking Alexia in the side when she gently nudges you out of the way to pick up your paint water as well as her own. She simply sends you a cheeky smile, one you can't help but mimic as she disposes of the paint before making her way back over to you.

You were told you could pick up your 'masterpieces' in a week, Alexia noting it down on her phone so she didn't forget before paying, not giving you a single opportunity to fight her on the subject despite your futile attempts.

"Alexia-"

"No," she takes your hand and pulls you out of the building. "I ask you out, amor, so I pay, sí?"

"Well I'm paying next time. No ifs, ands, or buts about it." You state firmly, Alexia raising an eyebrow in amusement as she instinctively swings your hands back and forth.

"Next time?" She questions, debating with herself for a second before gently pulling you to a stop and backing you up against a wall down a small alley that would ultimately keep you both hidden should anyone walk by.

You allow this to happen, head tilting to the side as you stare up at her with a look of intrigue on your face.

"You think you can take me on one of the best dates I've ever been on and not expect a second one?" You question, eyebrow raised, and Alexia shakes her head playfully as she reaches up and tucks one of the loose strands of hair behind your ear.

"What if I said the date was not over?" Her hand lingers on the side of your face, the pad of her thumb trailing gently just beneath your eye.

You lean into her touch. "It's not?"

Alexia shakes her head, her eyes once again flickering down to your lips. They linger there for a lot longer than they did last time. "I have one more thing planned, after I..." she looks up to make eye contact once again.

"After you?" You murmur, hopeful.

Alexia visibly swallows as her hand lowers to cup your jaw. "I want to kiss you. Please.”

Your heart pounds at her admission. "Then do it."

Alexia brushes the pad of her thumb over your lower lip, taking in the softness. "Are you sure?"

Your lips parting in a soundless intake of breath. "Sí. Kiss me." You whisper, and Alexia leans down to tentatively connect her lip with your own. The warmth of her mouth immediately sends a current of energy throughout the entirety your body, your insides feeling as though they'd been set on fire.

Your legs instantly turn into jelly, and you can only thank the wall behind you for keeping you upright as you place your hands on the gentle curve of her waist in an effort at pulling her closer.

You could feel the soft tickle of her breath against the tip of your nose as she complies and places one of her legs between your own, her chest becoming flush with yours as her other hand rises to meet the other. Your arms loop around her waist, hands coming to rest against the small of her back.

Her lips were soft, bruising, devouring yours with such reckless abandon you can't help but want more. She was everywhere. Tongue teasing. Teeth nipping. Hands demanding. When she asks for entrance, you immediately grant it, unable to stop the soft groan from escaping your lips when you feel her tongue trace teasingly over the roof of your mouth.

You feel her smile at the sound, and you find it hard to be embarrassed when she continues kissing you like there was nowhere else she'd rather be. You couldn't quite pinpoint her taste, but it was so addictive and so Alexia it took everything in you lot to get lost or swept away.

The kiss ends much sooner than you wanted it too, Alexia pulling away, stealing two more kisses from your lips in the process. She doesn't go far, simply resting her forehead against your own, your rapid breaths mingling in the small space left between you.

"You're a really good kisser." Is all you could bring yourself to say as your eyes flutter closed, hearing her laugh softly in response as she gently brushes the backs of her fingers over your cheek. You can't help but lean into the touch.

"Gracias, amor," she whispers, tracing her thumbs against the soft skin beneath your eyes, a silent prompt for you to open them. Once you do, she leans down just slightly and presses her lips against your forehead.

"You are...asombrosa." She murmurs as she pulls away.

"I don't know what that means." You admit, still slightly breathless.

"You will soon." She promises.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @liloandstitchstan @xxnaiaxx @marysfics

[lokiswifeduh]

Red agony

Pairings- Boyfriend!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary- Your time of the month has come back around, leaving you in agony. Bucky comes home from a mission, takes care of you, and comforts you.

Warnings- period talk, hurt/comfort, worried Bucky, talk of menstrual cycle, talk of tampons, I think that's it!

WC- 1.1k

masterlist

That time of the month was rearing its ugly head once again.

You held your stomach in pain as your heating pad soothed a small amount of the aching in your back.

Tears were crusted on your cheeks as your face was flushed. All of the lights in the bedroom were off, the only illumination being an open sign from the Chinese place across the street.

Bucky turned the keys in the door, swinging it open and toeing his shoes off under the coat rack. "Doll?"

He eyed the room, noticing the lack of any lamps or lights on. Tossing his bag on the ground, he made his way down the hall.

His socked feet making a soft noise of footsteps, making you finally snap out of the trance you had been in.

"Bucky?" You mumbled, looking back at the doorway behind you, seeing your boyfriend's silhouette.

"Hey, sweetheart," Bucky smiled, immediately noticing your hunched-over position, heating pad, and pain pills on the nightstand.

You pushed yourself into a sitting position, groaning as your back bent uncomfortably, "How was the mission, honey?"

Bucky saw you trying to get up and pushed you back down onto the bed, pulling you into his chest. You gripped onto his shirt, slinking your leg in between his.

"It was good, doll. No injuries. Got the intel we needed." He nodded, "Everything went well." You smiled into his chest, "Good, that's good."

"What about you, honey?" Bucky rubbed your back with his flesh arm, putting pressure on the aching part of your back.

"It was alright, I guess." You shrugged, making Bucky tilt your head up with his metal hand on your chin. "How was it really?"

Suddenly the dam broke. Tears streamed down your face as you buried your face into his neck, "It was horrible, Buck."

He shushed you, rubbing your back and encircling you in his arms. "I'm so sorry, honey. I would've come home sooner if I could."

You shook your head, inhaling his vanilla and musk scent. "You had a job to do, Buck. That doesn't stop just because I started my period and had a bad day." Bucky placed his metal hand on your cheek again, rubbing under your eyes which felt amazing on your flushed, hot skin.

"How about I run you a hot bath and make you some food, huh?" You looked up at him, your eyes only producing more tears as you nodded. "Yes, please."

"Okay, honey." He helped you stand and walk to the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet seat as he ran the bath.

He poured epson salt in the bottom of the tub, checking the water temp, and making sure it wasn't too hot before plugging the bottom of the drain.

Bucky bent over, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, moving your hair out of your face before helping you undress and place your dirty clothes in the hamper.

You watched him, admiring how much he cared about you, and how tenderly he took care of you. He poured your favorite bubbles in the bath, making sure to test the water before helping you step in and settle.

You felt immediate relief in your back from the warmth, sighing and closing your eyes.

"I'll put some pajamas on the bed for you, doll." You smiled softly, pulling him down to place a kiss on his lips. "Thank you, Buck. I love you." "I love you, yell if you need me, sweetheart."

Closing the bathroom door, he turned on the bedroom light, immediately noticing the large red stain on your side of the covers. He sighed, wishing he didn't have to go on that mission and could've been here with you, taking care of you instead.

He gathered the sheets and covers, placing them in the wash before putting clean black sheets on the bed.

Moving to the kitchen, he started to make your favorite comfort food. Grilled cheese with soup and hot chocolate.

A while passed, the water had become room temperature and the bubbles had soaked in with the water; creating a shimmery film on the top of the water.

"Food is ready, doll." You heard Bucky as he popped his head inside the door, making you pull yourself from the bath. You changed your tampon, drying yourself off, and wrapping a towel around your body.

Your hair was still wet as it dripped onto your shoulders and onto the floor. You saw the clothes Bucky had put out. Excited, as it was a pair of his sweatpants and his red henley.

You pulled on the sweats, feeling the fleece lining against your skin. You had to fold the lining of his pants twice, just so the bottoms wouldn't swallow your ankles.

Slipping the red henley over your head, foregoing a bra, you opened the bedroom door and were immediately hit with the scent of your favorite food.

"Thank you, Buck." You smiled, wrapping your arms around him from behind, your face pressed tightly to the center of his back.

"Of course, doll." He placed his metal hand over yours, swaying you both back and forth as he dished the soup into a bowl, and placed the grilled cheese on a plate.

You unwrapped yourself from him, attempting to take the plate, but he moved it away before you could, gesturing to the couch. "Nu-uh. Go relax, I'll bring it to you." Wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, you pulled his lips down to yours, feeling him squeeze your waist. "You're too good to me, Buck." He shook his head, "I think it's the other way around, honey." You laughed, walking over to the couch, placing a dark blue blanket over your legs.

"Eat up." Bucky put a pillow on your lap, sitting down the food.

He turned on the tv, playing your favorite show as you slowly ate for the first time that day.

Once you had finished, Bucky moved the plate and bowl to the coffee table, pulling you into his arms, making sure you could still see the tv.

Your head was in his lap as you looked up at him, ignoring your show. He felt eyes on him, looking down at you. "Everything okay, doll?" A wide smile graced your lips as you nodded. "I just love you so much, James." You kissed the side of his hand, "Thank you for taking care of me." Bucky smiled back, his hand on your cheek, softly rubbing circles. "I love you, honey. More than anything."

______________

masterlist

bucky masterlist

[koolades-world]

Your Umbrella (solomon x reader)

It'd been a long day. The rain poured down like the heavens weeping. He had forgotten to bring his umbrella from home. Resolved to the only good part of his day being getting to get to bed, he set off to Purgatory Hall through the onslaught of rain.

As he walked, he contemplated his life, staring down at the sidewalk. Simeon and Luke had headed back at the end of the school day, but he had to stay behind to help out with setting up for tomorrow's lesson in potions since he'd agreed to help since he knew a thing or two. At the time, he was all for it, but now that he was actually there, he couldn't be dreading it more. The last thing he wanted was to help teach a lesson.

Maybe his social battery was just finally drained, after all these years. Maybe RAD had finally been the thing to wear him down. Or, maybe he just needed to power through it. He had no clue what he needed. But, he had to figure it out, or it he wouldn't find the answer he was searching for. That's that way it'd always been.

Despite always seeming chipper, he wasn't sure how much of that he had left in him. He'd honestly lost track of how old he was at this point. He vaguely remembered his birthday, but for a while, it stopped mattering to him because despite the passage of time, his physical body showed no signs of aging. Most of the demons around him knew this, and it felt like common knowledge. But something none of them had considered was the state of his psyche. The human brain wasn't meant to function for an indefinite amount of time like his. He wasn't sure what it felt like to be normal anymore. Was he even human anymore? Even if he was, he wasn't sure he really enjoyed it anymore. Anything that was joyful about being human he felt like he lost long ago.

Being surrounded by demons who were hundreds of thousands of years older than him was troubling at times like this. Sure he was young by comparison, but that thought didn’t comfort him. He should've died a long time ago. Yet he was still here, and it felt as if he was rotting away from the inside out. They didn't stop to consider the toll of spending so much time with them was taking on. And, it wasn't even like it was anything they did on purpose. He wasn't trying to discredit their efforts of course, but they just didn't know what it was like to be human. If he didn't understand himself, how could they?

At this point, it just felt like he was dragging himself through the days. He honestly wasn't sure how he'd made it this far, or how he'd done this in the past. He felt like a dead man walking. He felt like he was wasting away.

But that's when he met you.

Mc made him feel young again, like he finally had a place to belong. Someone that kind of understood him and the struggles of being human. He didn't know what he'd do without you. You breathed the life back into his daily routine, by doing all sorts of little things you probably didn't even think twice about. You actually understood his struggles, and he felt as if turning to you was embracing the sun's rays. He smiled to himself as he continued to shuffle through the rain. He found himself thinking of you more and more as of late. You were nothing but the sparkle of joy in his day.

Behind him, he heard someone splashing through puddles through the din of rain. As he turned around, with the echo of the smile still on his face, he saw the very person he was thinking about. You had a cute pink umbrella in hand that was proabaly a gift from Asmo, blocking the rain from directly hitting you. However, you were still pretty soaked and water was practically dripping from your RAD uniform.

"Ah! You caught me. I was hoping I could sneak up on you and jump on your back." You walked over to him and immediately pulled him under your umbrella.

"You're so interesting." Solomon found himself laughing a little at your antics.

"What're you doing out here all by yourself? I went looking for you and was told you left in this awful weather." You immediately reached up and brushed his bangs out of his face so you could see his eyes. He reeled for a second, his heart thumping, before remembering he had to respond.

"Oh, I just wanted to get back to Purgatory Hall. Simeon took my bag home with him when he left at normal dismissal, and the rain didn't seem too bad when I left. Clearly, I was wrong." He tried to smile and brush it off, but you saw through him.

"Are you upset again? You don't have to tell me why, but let me just be with you and try to cheer you up, if you'll let me." The smile faded from your face a little, and he saw the concern shine through.

He didn't have it in him to speak, so he just nodded. You grabbed one of his hands with one of yours unoccupied with the umbrella. The way you quickly pulled him close and covered him with your umbrella felt oddly fitting to him. You were quick to grow close to him, for whatever reason, and he felt as if when he was around you, it was alright to feel how he was feeling. "Let's go do something crazy! We're both already wet, so what'd you say to dancing in the rain somewhere, then heading to Purgatory Hall to enjoy a movie together? Your favorite, of course. We might get sick, and while magic could solve that, that just means we could take a few sick days together." You leant into his side, placing your chin on his shoulder.

"I'm following you, Mc." He felt himself begin to smile again. He couldn't lie about how enamored he was with you. He couldn't say no to you. You made him happier, like he didn't just have to let the days bleed together. Not everything was going to go his way, but that's alright. At least he knew you'd be by his side.

Maybe being human wasn't so bad after all.

[dewsgremlin]

Kevin is absolutely annoyed by ghouls and would like to send them all back to the pit

cw: Kevin hates ghouls

(he would prefer any other demon because ghouls cause so much chaos)

Kevin hates ghouls with a passion.

Not because he's afraid of them, no, on the contrary, you can't have less respect for them than Kevin. He just thinks they're annoying little beasts, like particularly vicious chihuahuas from hell. Dewdrop, Phantom and Rain especially get on his nerves. Phantom because he's always clinging to Kevin like a leech. Dewdrop because he's a little gremlin who just causes chaos that Kevin then has to clean up. And Rain isn't that bad but he isn't good at speaking human language that Kevin usually doesn't understand what the water ghoul is stammering anyway. Well, Kevin could speak ghoulish if he wanted to, but in the end these pests would annoy him even more.

The worst is when he has to fix something in the ghoul wing.

For example, the other day, when he just wanted to clean the clogged drain in the kitchen sink, he was surrounded by ghouls within a few minutes. They reminded him of a bunch of starving cats, the way they stalked around him and cast curious glances over his shoulder.

Phantom was immediately glued to him again, practically tugging at Kevin's hair and clothes. Then Aether, who kept his distance but intermittently gave advice that Kevin hadn't asked for. "You should unscrew the drain pipe first" and "Are you sure you've mixed the cleaning concentrate sufficiently? Otherwise it could damage the pipes."

Kevin wanted to hit Aether in the face. But instead he contented himself with glaring at the sink while he worked.

At one point he accidentally hit Rain's forehead with his knee because Rain was squeezing himself on the floor between him and the bucket that Kevin had used to catch all the muck from the drainpipe. With an annoyed look, Kevin noticed that the water ghoul had started collecting small pieces that had landed in the drainpipe from the bucket.

"Stop that! You're just making everything dirty," he growled as Rain pulled his hands back and placed a marble, dripping with dirt, on the ground.

Rain just babbled incomprehensible things as he began to dig in the muck again.

"Why do you forbid Rain that?", whispered Phantom and came so close to Kevin that he felt the ghoul's warm breath brushing over his ear.

Kevin sighed with the burden of a man who would rather tend a sack full of fleas than a handful of ghouls.

Why couldn't the clergy have chosen other demons? There were many species that were less unruly than ghouls. Kevin even had the feeling that chaos ghouls not only enjoyed themselves, but that they actually drew their energy from it. He had once expressed this thought to Sister Imperator, but she had just laughed at him and said that he just had to learn to assert himself. That could only come from someone who didn't have to deal with these plagues on a daily basis.

Annoyed, Kevin stuck the spiral into the drain to push out the last bit of snot, while at the same time swatting away Rain's fingers that had appeared on the edge of the sink.

Since Copia had risen to the top of the ministry and had a bit more say, Kevin was no longer even allowed to sprinkle holy water on the ghouls to keep them away. After all, that would hurt the ghouls, the youngest Emeritus brother had explained his decision. Simply ridiculous. When Kevin had started working for the clergy, ghouls had just been treated like ghouls. But since Copia had shown up here, Kevin had to treat these creatures as if they had more feelings than lust, hunger and thirst.

Finally, the resistance in the drain was released and with a slap, a pile of mud landed in the bucket.

"Is that...sand?" asked Aether, astonished. Kevin shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "How do I know what kind of crap you always pour down the drain?!" He pulled the spiral back and knelt under the sink to screw the pipe back on.

Phantom also knelt down next to him and grabbed one of Kevin's long strands of hair to chew on.

"I'm clearly not being paid well enough for this," the brown haired growled, shooing back first Phantom and then Rain, whose hand had already disappeared back into the bucket.

Under the curious gaze of the ghouls, Kevin screwed the pipe back on, sat up with his aching back and picked up the bucket.

"It would be nice if you could just stop breaking or clogging anything for more than three days," Kevin grumbled, looking sternly at Aether. The quintessence ghoul had spent the last few minutes watching with his hands on his hips and a critical expression. "I'm doing my best, but you know what they're like." Kevin only snorted in response. He watched as Aether disappeared into the living room before he too turned to leave. The ghoul was talking to Kevin as if they were eye to eye. Kevin shook his head.

Ghouls.

He was about to close the door behind him when Rain slithered through and tugged at his sleeve. His big blue eyes bored into his.

"What?" Kevin asked slightly suprised. Rain's mouth opened and closed a few times without any words coming out. Then, finally, when Kevin's already extremely thin thread of patience was about to snap, Rain managed to say a word.

"Encore."

He had always thought that Rain simply didn't speak human language, but apparently the ghoul was just stupid. In a good-natured tone, as if he was talking to someone particularly retarded, Kevin replied. "I know you did a great job on the ghovie. We're all very proud of you. But I," he pointed to himself, "have to go now," he pointed to the door.

Rain tilted his head, confused. He's probably doing this so that the few brain cells he has will slip into the same corner, Kevin thought spitefully.

The water ghoul tugged at his sleeve again, this time more frantically. "encore, encore, encore Dew."

Confused, Kevin turned around and froze.

Dewdrop stood at the sink and calmly poured a thick liquid into it. Kevin now also noticed the penetrating smell of ammonia. The damned ghoul poured wall paint into the sink. Kevin blinked. The man was too stunned to even utter a word.

He definitely needed a bottle of whiskey tonight. Better yet, two. And brandy. A lot of it.

[azzypzazzy]

Meloxicam ⋆ Chapter Three

warnings: fem!reader, future smut

summary: after schlatt goes to get coffee as a way to wind down before some errands he ends up running into you again

word count: ~2.3k

author's note: i've been literally blown away by y'alls support! thank you all so much. final chapter before we're caught up!!! also i didn't change the picture layouts sue me i'm so tired. also had to edit the last one because i forgot the summary lmaoo sorry

previous chapter

Edit. 

Stream. 

Record. 

Sleep. 

Each day felt the same. By now, Schlatt had fallen into a comfortable routine, which had no sign of an end. He just had to make it through the day, which would be followed by the week, and so forth, every task becoming more of a burden each time. The days meshed together, small events and inconveniences made pleasant by the repetitive cycle he was stuck in, and by now, Schlatt was desperate for any escape. 

And he was done. So done. The loop felt crushing. He knew that he had to get out of the house for a bit. He had to distract himself. He had to do anything, just to know he did. If he was to sink further into the pool of self loathing he formed, and if Schlatt continued this way it was sure he’d drown. 

What was he to do? By now the fridge was practically empty, and he couldn’t keep telling himself he was going to go to the store soon, and that he was going to go out eventually. But the grocery store was far too much. Schlatt hated to admit it, but he hadn’t been out of the house in far longer than he liked. So long, that Jambo was practically fine. So long, that he had no reason to feel bad, not anymore. 

Jambo nuzzled up against his arm, forcing Schlatt to pay him some attention. Schlatt stroked the orange cat’s back, waiting for him to sit down. “I know bud, you want the place to yourself. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” 

Jambo moved closer, jumping down from the arm of Schlatt’s chair onto his lap. He carefully shifted his arm, placing a hand on his mouse. He shut his computer off, figuring it was time to do something, “You wanna go outside? I don’t really think you’re an outside cat.” 

He continued to pet Jambo, smiling as he nuzzled up to him. “You want one of those pupcone things? Do cats like them?” He paused, met with silence. “Nope. Pretty sure those have dairy.” 

Jambo leaned further onto him. Schlatt pursed his lips, “You’re real cuddly today. You hungry or something?” He patted Jambo’s back, scooping him up. “Yeah, you’re hungry, aren’t you.” 

He set Jambo down on the counter, grabbing the heavy kibble container from the bottom of his pantry before he grabbed the scoop inside of it. He poured half a cup into Jambo’s bowl, watching as Jambo jumped down, immediately having some. He chuckled, “Thought so.” 

He took a large water bottle from the dishwasher before closing it back up, figuring he’d put everything away later. He placed the cup down in the sink, filling it up as he looked back at his cat. Jambo had practically licked the bowl clean, which made him smile. He turned back to the sink, realizing the bottle had overflown. He grabbed it, spilling a bit down the drain before pouring the rest in Jambo’s water dish. 

He looked back at the fridge, remembering it was practically empty. But, it still wouldn’t hurt to open it, so he did. Yeah, he had to go shopping. By now, everything was either a topping, drink, or snack. There definitely wasn’t anything which was too filling, and he’d have to go shopping. Normally, this wasn’t too much of a hassle. Schlatt was always stubborn, and he refused to use one of those instacart shopping services, so each trip felt like he still managed to save money, but today, he was just exhausted. 

Maybe he could get coffee? If he was saving money, then he could splurge it on a coffee. Not like he had any filters at home. He sighed, looking back at Jambo, who was now all the way on the couch. He took it as a sign, and left the room to take a quick shower. 

Repulsive. 

That’s how Schlatt felt after staying in the house for too long, with practically no human contact. 

Sure, he’d showered. Sure, he’d called people. But it wasn’t like he actually did anything. He hadn’t gone outside. By now, his cat was his only company. 

He felt like a shut in, and god did he hate that. And now he was finally gonna get off his ass and do something about it. 

Schlatt took a final look at himself in the mirror, noticing how awful he looked. 

The bags under his eyes. 

The stained shirt. 

The unkempt hair. 

He stripped down, turning on the shower. He threw his clothes back into his room, closing the bathroom door before Jambo could sneak in. He paged the shower curtain, checking the water’s temperature. 

After a quick adjustment Schlatt finally entered the shower, relief washing over him as each droplet of water hit his body. It was so relaxing that he could barely hear the scratching and pawing at the bathroom door, as bathed. 

Body wash, shampoo, condition, and done. 

It was all quicker and easier than he thought, hopefully like shopping would be. 

As Schlatt stepped out of the shower he took a final look at himself, satisfied. 

Should he shave? Probably. Should he wash his face? Probably. But there were just about a million other things he could do, and none of it would matter. But at least he was taking steps. 

He decided against polishing his mutton chops, opting to get changed and dressed instead. He ran a towel through his hair before tying it around his waist. 

Schlatt walked back into his room, Jambo already sitting on the bed. Schlatt snickered, unsure how he even got in with the door closed. He threw the towel onto the right side of the bed, narrowly avoiding Jambo. He opened the left of his closet’s bifold door, grabbing a pair of shorts and a random graphic tee about the attack on the twin towers, which he found hanging loosely off a hanger. Schlatt put each item on hastily while searching for a belt and a pair of socks. He was unsure how long he’d be motivated to do something, and planned on taking advantage of the sudden burst of energy. To finish the outfit Schlatt grabbed the nearest hat, which happened to be a blue Yankees cap. 

Schlatt then left the room, guiding Jambo out of the room into the kitchen. Schlatt crouched down to check Jambo’s water bowl, seeing that it wasn’t full anymore. He stood up, grabbing a cup from his cupboard, filling it with water. Schlatt used it to refill the bowl before grabbing his keys from the counter. 

He ruffled the short hair on Jambo’s head before scooping him up to give him a kiss goodbye. He gave the cat a gentle squeeze before setting him down, telling him, “Alright, bud. I’ll see you later.” 

And with that, Schlatt was out of the house. He hopped into his truck, turning the vehicle on as he grabbed his phone. He thought for a moment, opening Spotify instead of maps. If he was just gonna get coffee, then he could go somewhere nearby. He probably wouldn’t try anything new, but he was willing to drive around until he found something he liked. 

Schlatt plugged his phone into the truck’s shitty aux cord, opening spotify. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was in the mood for, just something good, so like normal, he went to his liked songs. He allowed the app to play a random song by shuffling the playlist, only to be hit with exactly what he needed, “Chasing My Tail” by the Mild High Club. 

Schlatt parked his truck on the side of a surprisingly empty street. Sure, it wasn’t ghostly, but it was different. Usually it would take Schlatt forever to find parking, but it didn’t. He decided to not overthink it, not wanting to seem crazy. This was just one of those odd coincidences, nothing more. 

But, if he did think too much about it, he’d remember how odd his entire week had been. Honestly, everything felt different since he “met” that cashier. Schlatt wasn’t the type to believe in signs, or love at first sight, but this was just odd. Sure, she was hot, but Schlatt found himself surrounded by hot women all the time. Maybe he was just off. Jambo did just get out of surgery, it was probably that, and nothing more. 

Schlatt took his keys out of the ignition, “Siberian Breaks” by MGMT stopping. That song always managed to make him feel weirdly paranoid, even though it was amazing. It was a song which you had to either turn your brain off to, or turn it up to a hundred, and it was a different experience each time. 

Schlatt unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbing his wallet from his pocket to make sure he had money. He had five dollars on him, and his card. Instead of checking his balance or trying to budget each thing he’d have to buy today he closed it, putting it back in his pocket along with his phone and keys. 

Schlatt grabbed a few coins from his cup holder before opening the door. Schlatt stepped out of his truck, quickly locking it after feeding the meter. Schlatt waited for a moment, until a car stopped so he could cross to the nearest coffee shop, which also looked empty. He crossed, met with a faint jingle from a bell hung onto the door. He noticed how empty the cafe was, just like town, and he bet the baristas had noticed as well, because he only saw one girl on the register. A familiar girl. A girl who practically haunted him all week. 

He stepped to the front of the line, wondering if you actually remembered as well. He looked up at the menu as you greeted him, “Good morning. Welcome to Epoch Coffee, what can I get you?” 

He then realized that you probably didn’t remember him. At least your face didn’t show it, so he’d have to move on with his life, and his order. He thought for a second, “Oh.. Uh, could I have an Americano?” 

You nodded, “Of course. Size?” He noticed you quickly tapping his order onto the screen in front of you, which made him wonder if you were in a rush. Had he done something? Did you even remember him? “We have sixteen ounce cups, and twenty ounce cups.” 

Wasn’t sure, but he quickly realized you were still waiting for him to answer, so he did, just repeating the last thing you said, “A twenty ounce is fine.” 

You clicked the 20 ounce option before asking a final question, “Anything else?” 

Schlatt thought for a second, wondering if he should grab a bagel or some sort of pastry, but decided against it. “No, thanks,” He shook his head, grabbing his wallet. 

“Got it. And, uh, can I please have your name? For the order.” You asked.

Out of habit, he accidentally almost said Schlatt, instead replying with a different nickname, “Jay.” 

“Alright, your total is two seventy three.” You said, opening the cash register. Schlatt tried to overanalyze your face for anything, any sign that you remembered him, but he just couldn’t find it. Not a single sign. God he was pathetic. 

Schlatt grabbed his wallet, handing you a five dollar bill. He wanted to hold onto it, hold onto the moment, the warmth of your hands, just for a bit. Yet he didn’t, instead he pulled his hand back after an awkward second of touch. Schlatt rested his hands, allowing them to sit in front of his stomach as he saw how your hands skittered across the cash register. He then looked back up at your face, only to see your eyes dart back from him to the receipt which just finished printing. You grabbed it, placing the tiny paper onto the counter under his change. 

“Thank you,” Schlatt said before checking the receipt to make sure everything in his order was fine. 

You smiled, eyes still on the counter as you responded, “Yeah, of course. If you need anything let me know. Oh, and feel free to sit down while you wait for your order. It’ll be ready shortly, over there,” You pointed to the empty spot on the counter which had a tiny tip jar and a sign. 

Schlatt nodded again, leaning on a wall near the counter. Before coming in he didn’t plan to stay, and he definitely didn’t plan on it now. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, making another awful mistake, opening twitter. He tabbed into a different account, as he preferred to not be on his main unless he was posting something. Social media stressed him out enough, and he just needed to kill a few minutes while he waited. 

After a surprisingly short amount of time he heard his name called, you calling out, “An Americano for Jay.” 

He stood up, putting his phone back in his pocket as he stepped up to the counter. He grabbed the drink, dropping the bills and coins he received earlier as change. He looked up at you, grabbing the drink as he formed a slight smile, “Thank you.” 

“No problem. Thanks for stopping by at Epoch Coffee, come again soon.” You said as he nodded and left the store, leaving the store to go back to his truck. He took a sip of his coffee before grabbing his keys. 

Schlatt unlocked the vehicle to open the door and take a seat. He placed the seeping hot foam cup in the truck’s cup holder, putting his phone up on the stand. 

He was hopeless. 

[giggly-squiggily]

Weekly Basis (Fire Force)

Heyo! :D I missed my boys, and now here they are kjejakrkjearjkeaj I was fangirling with Nym (@intheticklecloset) recently over these two and Fire Force as a whole- one thing led to another and boom! This fic was born! I hope y'all like it! :D

Summary: Arthur and Shinra have weekly tickle fights. That's it- that's the fic

It was Arthur’s fault, naturally. He usually was the one to start these fights.

“Begone devil, or I’ll be forced to cut you down.” The blonde fumed, grabbing the hilt of his plasma blade. “I’m not one to bluff.”

“Gee, forget how to say ‘excuse me’?” Said devil rolled his eyes as he turned back to the counter, pouring cream into his coffee. He could move, but Shinra was feeling petty now. The self proclaimed knight king could wait. “Since you're standing there, hand me the sugar? I think Maki burned the pot.”

“Assisting a devil? And a stubborn one at that- you are truly bold to ask a Knight King for assistance after refusing my orders.” Arthur puffed up, the hand on his hilt tightening knuckle white. Still, he turned and grabbed the sugar off the nearby table.

Only to put it on the top of the fridge, just out of Shinra’s reach.

“Oh you son of a-” Shinra growled as he twisted towards him, reaching for the bowl. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Had you yielded, you’d have your sugar- hey, back you!!” Arthur pushed at his shoulders as Shinra leaned into him, using the blonde as leverage. “Begone I said!”

“Shut up, you started it!” Shinra stretched his arm long, fingers just grazing his target. Arthur scrunched his nose up at the smell. “Hold still!”

He did not. Instead, Arthur shoved his hand into his armpits for a better shove, curling his fingers.

The reaction was near instantaneous.

“GAH!” Shinra yelped, all but falling on his ass as he spasmed backwards. Arthur reached out to grab him, a hand to Shinra’s t-shirt the only thing preventing him from hitting his head on the way down. There was a brief moment of stunned silence, then…

“Geahhaha! Doohohohn’t you dahhahahre!” Shinra cried out when Arthur let him go, following him down with two hands in his armpits. “Stahhahahap, sthahhap yooohohohu jehheheerk!”

“Oo, what’s wrong? Is the devil himself ticklish?” The blonde cooed, grinning from ear to ear as Shinra thrashed and squealed beneath him, curling up like a cockroach. “If I’ve known this sooner, I’d have defeated you already! Now I shall take my chance!”

“Yehahahhaha rihhihiihght! Gehahahhaha, yohohohou’re a mohohohorohohohon iihihif yohohohu thihiihnk thihihs will kihihihll mehehehehe!” Shinra quickly reached out, grabbing onto Arthur’s knee and squeezing. Almost immediately, Arthur spasmed, falling back and giving Shinra the opening he needed to run.

“Dehevil! Get back here!” Arthur cried out, but Shinra was already far too gone, laughing the entire way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur was exhausted.

It was the beginning of the week, and the dreaded paperwork day. Normally such an event wouldn’t come around until later, but due to a few incidents over the weekend with infernals, the torture was moved sooner. The ogre pri-Maki; his head still hurt- insisted it wasn’t all that bad; just a small pile for each of them.

For her or the lieutenant, this was breezy. For the Knight King himself; it felt like decades.

“Oi, sit up- that’s how you fall asleep.” Shinra elbowed him gently, snapping him out of his sleepy trance. “Speaking of, did you sleep at all last night? I swear I heard you snoring for the most of it.”

“A Knight King gets plenty of stamina. This however- it’s poison. It drains my life force.” Arthur looked down miserably at the half finished paper, feeling his eyes start to droop just after reading the first few lines. “I’ve sat here for eons. Any longer and I won’t be able to go on…”

“It’s been five minutes. Most of them you spent asleep.” Shinra elbowed him again when Arthur started to droop, shaking him awake once more. “Do you want some coffee? An energy drink- water?”

“Coffee would be nice..” Arthur nodded through a yawn, watching Shinra get up to make it. “Make haste, devil- before this poison spreads to my he-aaaaart..”

“Sure, sure, whatever.” Shinra rolled his eyes as Arthur yawned again, stretching his arms out overhead. “Don’t be asleep when I get back or else.”

Arthur knew Shinra likely meant it. He leaned into his hand as he stared at the paper, the world growing blurrier and blurrier until…

“Eheh!” Something sharp and ticklish jabbed his sides. His vision was blind- when did that happen? Oh no- the poison spread to his eyes! “I can’t see-”

The paper he was working on fluttered off his face. Arthur stared. Oh.

Then the tickles came back and he didn’t have any time to feel silly.

“I told you to stay awake, didn’t I?” Shinra growled in his ear as he squeezed the life out of Arthur’s sides, making the blonde squeal and squirm in his clutches. “I told you, and you fell asleep anyway! This is what you get!”

“Aehahhhahahha! Rehehahahaleahahase me, dehheheehevil! Hohohow dahahahare yohohohu- gehahahhahahahhah!” The Knight King tried and failed to grab his hands, still groggy with sleep as Shinra danced his fingers up and down his torso. “Begohohohohone, dehhehehevil-HEhhehehehehehhahah!”

“You know- you’re awfully bold to ask for coffee from me and then tell me to ‘begone’. Actually- didn’t you say the same thing yesterday too?” Shinra’s efforts were doubled as Arthur snorted like a pig, trying and failing to guard his stomach from the devil’s prodding fingers. “Well too bad for you! I’m here with an antidote for your ‘poison’, and I’m not going anywhere until it’s in full effect!”

The coffee had grown cold by the time they were done, but Arthur wasn’t sleepy anymore.

A win is a win?

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

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Shut up! It’s not like you’ve never been stuck before!” Shinra argued at the Knight King- his stance weakened significantly as he swayed to and from. “Get me down!”

“Usually I’d leave devils like yourself like this, but as a Knight King, I suppose I have to help you.” A puff of laughter escaped the blonde’s lips, momentarily breaking his monologue. Seeing Shinra hanging upside down in a tree with his leg caught within the branches was quite the sight! Part of him wanted to take a few pictures.

Well…

“Oi, put your phone away and help me!” Shinra cried, swiping at Arthur as the other snapped a few shots, ducking and weaving out of the brunette’s reach. “Arthur!”

“Pfft, okay okay.” Tossing his phone aside, he reached up and grabbed Shinra by the waist- or ribs. He was never good at devil anatomy. “I’m gonna pull you down- try not to squirm.”

“Hurry u-eehheahhaha, stahhahap!” Shinra cried, shivering all over at the feeling of tickles. “Don’t tihihickle me!”

“I’m not trying too- damn, how’d you get so stuck?” Arthur gave another tug, squeezing Shinra more and more as he pulled. The entire time, the brunette was giggling and curling up, punching at the air and holding his face as he tried and failed to escape. “I told you to stop squirming!”

“Ahahahand I tohohold yoohohou tohoho stahhap tihihihckli-EHEHE!” Hands to his hips did him in. He arched so harshly he went backwards into Arthur, his leg deciding that was the time to come loose. The two boys went flailing into the dirt below- groaning in mutual pain as leaves scattered around them.

“Ugh..Devil, are you hurt?” Arthur asked, feeling Shinra shake his head. “Good. You can carry me back.”

“Oh shit- did you get hurt?” Shinra shot up, staring down at Arthur’s torso.

“No, but I’m far too tired. It’s the least you can do for knocking the air out of me.”

Shira swore, digging into the blonde’s sides and making him jump and cackle.

He did end up carrying Arthur home though.

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

Ghgggggggggggghhh.

Shinra felt his eye twitch. He pressed them closed tighter, practically squinting.

Ghgggggg-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhch.

He pulled the pillow tighter around his ears, trying to block out the sound.

Khggggggh-ghhhghgh-zhhhhhhhhhhgh

Now that last one sounded personal. Shinra twisted in his bed to glare down at the blonde sleeping away. Arthur wasn’t usually the type to snore; most nights the most you’d hear out of him is sleep talking through a dream-made acceptance speech. It was only when he got sick he snored.

And good lord he could snore!

“Oi, Knight King!” Shinra whispered sharply down at him, waving to get his attention. Usually he’d be more sympathetic for his roommate in times like this, but Arthur was on the very last leg of his cold. After what felt like decades listening to him snore, he finally had enough. “Wake up!”

“Zzh-heh?” Snorting awake, Arthur blinked blurrily up at him, wiping at his face with a tired hand. “What? The princess wishes me to marry her? I’m flattered, but I am far too committed to my duties.”

“No, dumbass! Wake up! You’re snoring like crazy!” Shinra growled, climbing down the latter of their bunk before heading to the bathroom. “Hang on, let me get the decongestants.”

“I don’t need your potions, Devil. I’m fine. Besides its-” Arthur looked at the clock, wincing. “Good lord- 1 am?- I can survive the night.”

“Well, I can’t.” Shinra came back with a glass of water and two pills, offering them to the blonde. “Take them. That’ll clear your up.”

Arthur stared. Then he scrunched up his nose in distaste, shaking his head. “Those are poison.”

“They’re medicine!”

“They taste horrible.”

“You sound like ass- take the freaking pills!” Too tired for patience, Shinra put down the water and climbed onto Arthur’s bed, grabbing at his sides as he brought the pills to his mouth. “Come on- come on, Knight King- the princess wants you to take them!”

“The priiihihncess is a dehehhevil! A dehihihvil in dihhihisguiihihse!” Arthur giggled out, one hand slapped over his mouth as the other shoved at Shinra, trying and failing to keep it down. “Stahhahap, it tihihihickles!”

“Take. The. Meds. Now!” Shinra growled, worming his fingers higher up as Arthur fell back into the bed, squeaking and giggling all the way. He was about to shove a hand into the blonde’s gut to really get him going when the door suddenly opened. “L-Lieutenant!”

Hinawa looked beyond exhausted, hair slightly messy and glasses missing. He also looked really, really pissed. He walked over, taking in the sight as his eyes landed on the pills in Shinra’s hand.

Without any words, he held out his hand for them. Shinra gave them without question. Hinawa turned to Arthur.

“These will make you into a grand knight king. Take them or you’ll die to the witch's poison.” He spoke so seriously even Shinra believed him. Arthur blanched before snatching the pills, gulping them down with every last drop of water.

“Good. Bed. Now.” Hinawa gave Shinra a look that sent chills up his spine. Quickly, the brunette did so, watching the older man leave. Before the door shut, he heard a soft “Goodnight boys.”

“Scary…” Shinra moaned. Below him, Arthur was fast asleep already.

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

“That’s it! This charade has gone on LONG ENOUGH!” Shinra declared one afternoon- tossing down his coat and pointing at the blonde before him. “You and me- outside; right now!”

“Bring it on, Devil. I’ve been waiting for this day.” Arthur nodded, following the brunette out the door. Tamaki- who had been sitting by watching the entire fiasco- turned to the others with wide eyes.

“Should we stop them?” She asked- still new to Company 8’s dynamics.

“They’ll be fine. They do this at least once a week.” Maki reassured her, sorting through the remains of her paperwork. “If you want, why don’t you go out and see for yourself? I can take care of things here.”

Tamaki nodded, standing up and heading towards the door. With a small huff, she pushed it open to find…

“COME HERE!” Shinra yelled out, diving into Arthur’s middle as the blonde grabbed onto his shirt. Sparks flew and flames ignited as Shinra took flight, soaring him and Arthur through the air. Despite such a move, they only skimmed the rooftop, no different than a fly buzzing around a sugar cube.

“Think you’ve one? Ha! Take this!” Arthur wasn't deterred. The second they reached the center of the roof once more he brought the hilt of his sword into Shinra’s back, making him stumble to his feet. Tamaki sucked in a small hiss- that couldn’t have felt good.

Neither did the suplex Shinra performed on Arthur. With the blonde on his back, Shirna was quick to sit on his hips, one hand grabbing at his wrists while the other…

“AH! Shihihihihihihit!” Arthur yelped, arching when Shinra’s fingers attacked his stomach, sending waves of ticklishness up his core. “Dehehehhevil!”

“Whahaht?” Shinra mimicked, giggling like a goon as he carried on gently tickling the other. He was smiling that devilish grin of his- the kind that never failed to make Tamaki’s heart do little flutters whenever it came around. “Come on- fight back, Knight King? What is it- too much for you to handle?”

“Yohohoohu shuhuhuhut yoooohur fahahhahce! Gehahhaha, I’m juhuhust gehehhehetting stahahhahartred!” With a burst of strength, Arthur broke free from Shinra’s grip, attacking the other’s ribs with full force. The brunette yelped as he doubled over, giggling like a child almost immediately. “Tahhahahke thahahahaht!”

“Wow- and here I thought they’d spar more before getting into the tickles.” Maki’s amused tone make Tamaki jump out her skin, finding the older girl watching alongside her. “Last week it took them a few more attacks before they got going.”

“They’ve been on edge all week. This is their stress relief.” Hinawa added, making Maki nod in agreement.

“Latom.” Iris added, tenting hands. Tamaki copied her almost automatically.

“Ehehehehheheh! Dohoohohohn’t juhuhuhuuhst stahhahahnd thehehehere- hehehehelp meheheh!” Shinra called out to them, half fighting off Arthur’s attacks and half digging into the nearest soft spot he could find. “Geheheheht his neehheheck-EHEHEHEH!”

“Dohohohon’t goohohoho gihihihving awahhahy my sehehehecrets! Hihihis feheheht! Gehehhet his feheheheh-EHEEHEHK!” Arthur yelped just as loudly when Shinra dug into his highest ribs, the hands in Shinra’s armpits starting to weaken. “GEHEHEHT OOHOHOHUT!”

“DIHIHIIHIHITTOOHOHOHOHO!”

“They’ll work it out eventually.” Hinawa returned to his desk, Maki following not too long after. Iris stayed with Tamaki, giggling in her hand as she watched the boys play.

“They’re always like this- you don’t have to worry.” She reassured her, squeezing Tamaki’s hand. “Come- lets go get some tea before they realize we’re still here.”

Away they went, leaving the boys screaming and cackling on the rooftop in their tickle fight. Soon the noise died down, the boys returning to the office disheveled and giggly.

“Iihihll..I’ll win nehehext time!” Shinra called out, pointing at a sleepy Arthur as the blonde sank into his seat.

“Suhuhure, shuuhhure..dehhehevil.” Arthur rolled his eyes, head hitting the desk as he began to snore. Only Maki shaking him kept him from completely passing out.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.” Tamaki mused as she passed him a mug, watching his ears go red. “Who knew the hero had such a weakness?”

There was a brief pause in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite read passing over them before he began to laugh, taking the mug with that trademark smile of his. “Well- all the best heroes have one. Sometimes two.”

“What’s the other one?” She asked automatically, tilting her head when he only smiled around his mug.

“That’s a secret”

Thanks for reading!

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: troth

a gift for @flownwrong as part of the kris kringle mingle -- have a good year, bud. :)

title: troth pairing: sam/dean length: 3200 tags: established relationship, season 10, truth curses

(read on AO3)

It's a sigil, some weird language neither of them recognize, two inches more-or-less square seared onto Dean's chest under the no-demons-allowed tat, right over his heart. Between that and the fun little gift from Cain, he's starting to feel crowded.

"Why there," Sam says, the jackass. Dean takes in a breath and Sam immediately looks sorry, says, "Wait—"

"Magical sigils tend to follow the ley-fields of the human body," Dean says, "so they can take advantage of belief foci: head, heart, hands, genitals, clusters of veins and nerves. In this case the sigil is inscribed in the place of greatest meaning for the witch who designed it."

His voice rasps. Sam grimaces. Writes it down, too, damn him. Like Dean's a damn wikipedia article he's referencing.

"This is not a question," Sam says, carefully. He ignores Dean's eyeroll. "I wonder how you know this stuff. I mean. I know we've been doing a lot of research but it seems—I don't know. Impossible."

It's not a question and so Dean doesn't know how to contribute. His tongue's felt weighed down, ever since they left that cabin in the mountains. His head hurts, fuzzy like lack of sleep and a hangover headache are warring for which can suck most, but Sam's been in some level of freak-out since yet another who-knows-how-terrible weird mark has imbued itself onto Dean's body and so here they are, at the tables in the library, researching through the night. Dean wants to say, hey, at least this one isn't trying to make me into a murder machine, but he can't seem to speak without being asked for something. Sam probably wouldn't appreciate it, anyway.

The spell leapt from the witch bitch's grimoire as Dean was tossing it into the fire, like it refused to die even as she went down under Sam's bullet. With the grimoire gone they'd probably be up the creek—and yet.

"I'd like you to drink a glass of water," Sam says. Another careful non-question. He sets it in front of Dean. "Your throat sounds like it hurts."

It does. Dean drags his hands over his face, hard, and then drags them over the back of his skull and presses his fingertips brutally into the muscle at the back of his neck that's aching like after a twenty-hour drive. Like trying to shift poured cement. Then he picks up the glass and drains it in cool glugging swallows, until his belly sloshes, and then he leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Not the worst thing in the world to have Sam coddling him. From Sam, this counts as coddling.

The chair next to him drags out. "Don't hate me," Sam says. That's not a question, either. Dean gives him a sidelong squint and Sam's got his elbows braced on the chair arms, hunched, looking sorry. He's looked sorry a lot, this year. Dean can't say it but he hopes he communicates how dumb he finds the whole attempt is with, whatever, the shape of his ears and the distance apart his knees are set, and closes his eye again. "Yeah, okay," Sam says, quiet. Then: "Why can't you talk of your own volition?"

Dean's mouth opens.

Thing is, he's not saying it. It's like there's some portal that opens somewhere around his voicebox and information pours out from some other place. The answer's something about the witch cursing whoever killed her with knowledge beyond blah blah, but that doesn't mean Dean's got to pay attention to it or knows what it means. His head's killing him, anyway. Sam's writing down something while Dean babbles about a Greek curse originating from Delphi and Dean's just—a speaker, turning in to radio wherever. Crank the volume and listen to him go.

"This is… incredible," Sam says. "Dean, I think—could you tell me anything?"

"Yes," Dean says, and expects more, and nothing comes. Level of detail is all over the place, but whatever it is always seems to be true.

"Huh." A dragging sound: Dean opens his eyes, and Sam's pulled up his laptop, is clicking around. White light washing out his face. "Okay: what website am I looking at right now?"

"Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia," Dean says. When isn't he.

Sam squints at the screen, says, "What's the URL?", and Dean doesn't get to call him an absolute bitch before he starts parroting out: "H T T P S colon slash slash—" although at least Sam looks like he regrets it well before Dean gets to say Oracle.

His throat really does ache by the end and his head hurts bad enough that tears smart at the corners of his eyes. From talking. Somewhere, Sam at age twenty-two is feeling vindicated. The room blurs and he closes his eyes again, grips the table so as not to sway so visibly. "Are—" Sam starts, but luckily he seems to remember to use the massive brain in his massive head and doesn't ask; he touches Dean's arm, instead, gently at first and then squeezing hard. It hurts a little, is warm. Feels good. Dean should get cursed by some kind of dead Big Fat Greek Wedding broad more often.

"Yes or no questions, maybe," Sam says, mostly to himself seems like. Then: "Does answering hurt?"

"Yes," Dean says. Sam is supposed to be the smart one, right? He's testing that now.

"Does… the complexity of the question increase the strain of answering?"

"Yes," Dean says, voice cracking like he's friggin' thirteen, and Sam squeezes his shoulder instead, and then the back of his neck where everything seems to have been replaced by screaming furiously hot steel, and somehow Sam's hand doesn't sear right off so that must be something that Dean's dealing with on the inside. He feels like he should be visibly smoking.

"Hey," Sam says, quiet, and touches Dean's face, and—ah, damn it, the tears have spilled over so his face is all wet. He'd crack a joke about cutting onions but he figures Sam's heard it, and anyway he already got a lecture about autonomic responses to pain when he broke his collarbone, that one summer when they were kids, does Sam remember? None of which he can say but Sam maybe gets it anyway, since he smears his thumb over Dean's cheek and then says, "Stop being a wuss," so Dean can shove vaguely in the direction of Sam's heat, and Sam can grunt on the weak impact and then say, "Okay, c'mon—" and drag Dean to his feet even if he thinks he might faint.

His bedroom. Sinking into the memory foam, his forearm over his eyes. Sam turns on the bedside lamp and Dean flinches, even with the shade, so the lamp goes off again. A few seconds pass before Sam sits on the side of the bed.

"Guess it would've been too good to be true to just get the answers to life, the universe, and everything," Sam says. "Or, I guess we could, but then you'd blow up? What do you think, worth it?" Quiet, although he's just about the one thing that doesn't seem to hurt right now. Dean fumbles a hand down and finds Sam's leg, warm through denim, and flicks him as hard as he can. "Ow." Yeah, that's what he gets.

Sam sits there quiet for a while, Dean's hand tucked in against his thigh. While Dean breathes it feels like the pounding of his head reduces, a little—just a regular high-speed drum solo and not a Keith Moon explosion—and it feels less like he's gonna puke and have a stroke all at the same time.

"One reason we've got to fix this: I don't know how, but somehow I'm missing the crack you'd normally make about me holding your hand." Dean snorts. Sam's fingers move against his pulse. "Maybe later we can try more yes and no stuff. I want to be able to just ask how to get rid of it but I don't want to give you an aneurysm."

Sam's hand moves up his forearm. Dean swallows. Lot of answers they could use.

He expects Sam to get up but he stays. His hand folds over the mark on Dean's arm and stays there. Another pulse point but Dean guesses that's not why. Sam's warm, which is a stupid thing to keep thinking but it just feels so damn good Dean can't give himself too much crap for it—he is warm, and he feels right, and he smells good on top of everything else. Been a long time and everything's been so weird and scary, even scarier than normal which for their lives is really saying something, and he missed Sam, is all. A lot. More than he could say, and now that he wants to say it he can't. His life's a real joke, a lot of the time.

While his pulse slows further he thinks about the last time Sam was in this bed. Six months ago maybe. With Sam hating him and him knowing he deserved it, and how that didn't matter in the face of the dumb physical release they both needed, and how they didn't look at each other and it was dark and for Dean's part at least it wasn't even enjoyable, just—an exercise, muscle being used to its highest straining point and then the relief of dropping the weight, endorphins flooding, making it seem worth the effort. The next-day ache something you didn't think about in the moment. Kind of thing you didn't want to remember in the minutes before you died but it came up in the last flickering montage, the way he'd sat on the edge of the bed feeling loose and nasty and drained and just rotten down through every layer down to the very center where the little kernel he relied on to be himself, to be anyone worth knowing at all, had gotten dislodged and he wasn't quite sure he knew how to find it again. Sam had walked out of the bedroom without saying anything and that had felt right, or at least like the least wrong thing, considering all the wrong that had gone on. On the day he died, that last time, even if getting his lungs perforated hadn't been on the top things he wanted to do that day, that last little fleck of him felt like it got pinned down under the blade—he'd been there, at least, and been able to look at Sam and have Sam see who he was, and all the sorries he'd wanted to say and all the fault he knew was his just bubbled up and evaporated into the dank air and he didn't know, then, how to sum it up. All he should've said to his brother and all he felt and there wasn't time to say sorry for that last time. To apologize for all the times before. To go back, down the years and decades, and say wish I hadn't saddled you with all this, and yet also to say—I'm so glad they saddled you with me, and yet also—you are the best part of me, and yet also—and yet also. How impossible it was to summarize what being Sam's brother had meant and would always mean. Because where would he be, otherwise.

Sam hasn't let go of his arm. His heart beats slow as honey.

"This isn't a question," Sam says. Dean's fingers twitch against his leg. Sam's voice is low, even. "I've been thinking of the crappiest things to ask you. Big stuff, little stuff. Every thing I've wanted to know all my life. Things that happened when I was gone. Stuff I know you lied about. Like whatever happened to the Starburst I was saving in my backpack, that time in fourth grade when I wanted to share them with Laura Harris." It's almost a question but apparently not enough of one, thank god, because Sam really wouldn't like the answer. "I want to know how to get that thing off your arm. I want to know why you did it."

Dean pulls his arm off his face. Sam's looking right at him, in the half-light.

"Thing is, I think I know, but I don't know that I know." He seems like he's about to say something else and bites his lips between his teeth instead. He swallows, and shrugs. "Hard to cut out filler words."

That doesn't make sense but that's not unusual when Sam's thinking out loud.

What Dean can't say:

It was the obvious thing to do. Things were real bad between him and Sam but that wasn't the only reason, or even the main reason, he said yes. There was a huge evil thing that was going to just get huger and more evil and he was presented with the only way to stop it and there wasn't, for him, much more reasoning than that needed to do what was necessary. Maybe if Sam had been with him, Sam would've talked him out of it. Maybe. But more than likely, they would've just argued about which one of them would have to get laid out on the sacrificial altar this time around, and after he'd nearly lost his mind and his heart trying to stop Sam from dying last time, he'd be damned if it was Sam who'd die this time, and—he would've done whatever it took to get the thing on his arm and not Sam's. Including betrayal, as bad or worse than what he'd done to keep Sam alive last time. So, it was just as well. He'd defeated the huge evil thing and all that was lost was himself. Not much of a weight on the scales, really. And Sam would be fine. Sam had proven that, half a dozen times over.

"Your pulse slowed down," Sam says. Dean can't even really nod—that seems to count as communication—but it's obvious, anyway. Sam's cheek sucks in on one side and he looks all over Dean's face. "I guess this might be counterproductive, but—your head still hurt?"

"Moderately," Dean says, and then he makes a face. Who talks like that? It makes a little pulse of pain bloom at the back of his neck where his spine hits his brainstem, but so what.

Sam kinda laughs. "Okay," he says, and then sits there, with his hand big and warm at the crook of Dean's elbow and his eyes still on Dean, and his body there, close. God, has Dean missed that. Six months isn't the longest they've gone but—six months feels like a long time, these days. Knowing how quickly the days can run out.

"Sorry," Sam says, first. Dean sighs and Sam gives him a look. Yeah, Dean's got looks too. Even so, Sam lets go of his arm and then lays his hand heavy on Dean's chest, meets his eyes. "This is a question." Dean raises his eyebrows and Sam holds there, lips parted, like he's really thinking about it. Then: "Do I need you?"

Dean's mouth opens and he says, "No."

If it didn't hurt on a number of levels it'd be kinda funny how Sam's face changes. Full-on blanch, like faced with the nastiest-ever monster. Dean's chest feels like it's been hit with a sledgehammer and he pushes Sam's hand away, struggles up to sitting, only Sam grabs him again by the arm, shaking his head, brow all crumpled, but hell—if they've proven anything in the last dozen hours it's that Dean is a mouthpiece for the truth, the ultimate truth, the truth that's past guesswork and implication and is just actual fact handed down from the universe.

"Wait," Sam says, like Dean's saying any of this crap out loud. Dean twists his arm away and puts his back to the headboard, the wall. Sam lets go with his hands held high, face all sorry. "That's not true, though, Dean. It's not true."

Dean looks at the ceiling, because he can't shrug or shout and he thinks if he tried to leave Sam would just fight him about it. If that's what Dean answers then that's the answer. He just wishes Sam hadn't been enough of a dickhead to prove it to them both.

"God, I can't think how to—" Sam touches his leg, and then the center of his chest, and Dean smacks his hand away but Sam puts his fingers right back, like he's sounding Dean's body for answers. "Do you need me?"

"Yes," Dean says, and really ought to punch Sam in the face for proving the contrast, but as he's grabbing Sam's wrist Sam shakes his head and says, quick, "Do you want me?" and the answer to that is, of course, "Yes," and Dean's just about sick with it. Why is he—

"Do I want you?" Sam says, and then fast while Dean's opening his mouth, "I don't know if that's enough. But I do, Dean. I want you here, and I do need you no matter what—I don't know, maybe not to literally live, but I want you, I want you with me, I want to hunt with you and I want to be here because it's where you are, because—god, do you know why?"

Dean's answers blur from yes to no. Sam holds his jaw, curled in weird on the bed, eyes all over his face again, searching. His hair stupid in the back-light from the hall. No, Dean doesn't know why. "I could make you answer," Sam says, tight, hurt. Dean grips his shirt. "I want you. Do you believe me?"

"I—" Dean says, and his throat stalls. His head hurts but nothing's arriving to fill it.

Sam curls forward, his forehead touching Dean's. "This curse sucks," he says, breath hot on Dean's mouth, and Dean can't argue with that but there's this ringing in his ears that's kind of distracting him. Sam's skin smells so good he can't stand it. "I want you. Is that true?"

Dean nods, the answer whispering out.

Sam's thumb dragging over his cheek, rasping in his stubble. Under his sternum there's the weird panicked feeling of having missed a step down in the dark, where your whole body lurches in unthinking terror, but also this weird tight coil of—of he doesn't even know what. Two true things to hold at the same time and if they're true then how could he not believe them?

Sam's thumb pushes hard under his bottom lip, dents it against his teeth. His head dipping, his temple against Dean's. Dean gets a hand on his shoulder and wants to say—fifty things. Wants to punch him, still. A little. Maybe a lot. Six months, though, and how screwed up they've been. His heart thuds low in his gut and his head hurts but so what. He sits up more and Sam moves with him, his shoulder curving in toward Dean, his other hand sliding down Dean's side.

"I don't want to ask," Sam says, soft against Dean's ear, but he doesn't need to. Never has.

[aka-indulgence]

Growing on Him

Thank you @cams4 for commissioning! This was really cute to write! /w\

(UT!Sans x Original Female Character, UT!Papyrus & OC Her name is Calypso, she’s a green mage with plant magic :D)

Sans thought he wouldn’t fall in love. Thought he’d be too lazy for it.

And then she came into his life and made his soul bloom with affection.

——————

Distant laughter. A lone skeleton sits in the kitchen.

Sans is alone. He feels as if the clouds are grey and the rain is pouring, but it isn’t. The sun was about to set. He watches the two of them- Papyrus and Calypso on their regular gardening.

“WOWIE! I LOVE PLANT MAGES!” He heard his brother cry, voice muffled through the window. “YOU FIXED MY OREGANOS SO QUICKLY! YOU KNOW I’M QUITE ATTACHED TO IT- YOU GOT THEM FOR ME, AFTER ALL!”

“Aww, thanks Papyrus!” Calypso smiles.

“OF COURSE! AND IF YOU’RE NOT TOO DRAINED RIGHT NOW CALYPSO, CAN YOU SHOW ME THAT… MAGIC TRICK AGAIN?”

“Again?” She sounded humorously taken aback. “You’ve seen it already!”

“I’LL NEVER GET TIRED OF IT, THAT’S A PROMISE!”

Sans’ brows furrows. She waves her hands, green light encompassing them. Her magic, sparkling and swirling, flows into the ground. Out of it sprouts a plant, from a hidden seed, and it grows and grows, climbing into the air, before a sunflower buds and blooms. Yes, both of them have seen it before, and Papyrus’ eyes bulge out of his sockets still.

And Sans still can’t hide the smile of wonder whenever he sees her magic. But that bittersweetness lingers in his ribcage.

He feels… lonely. Of course that should be easy to solve, with the merry air outside. He should go, Papyrus and Calypso had asked him to come in the first place, and yet here he was. In the kitchen. Alone. He feels distant, like he can’t really.

He lets out a long sigh and slides a hand down his face, frowning deeply.

god… i’m stupid.

He just had to go and fall in love with her, didn’t he? It was easy to love her, of course, but Sans had never had feelings for anyone, and now he’s excited, confused, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. For some reason something’s stopping him from just… going up to her and telling her how he feels.

… No, Sans knows why.

Being with Calypso… just the idea makes him feel like he could burst with joy, but he doesn’t know if she’d feel the same way about him.

It’s been about a year since Papyrus introduced her to him, when he brought a human stranger to the house. They’d apparently met during a city-wide gardening event. Papyrus had always mentioned wanting to do some gardening once he found out that was a thing humans do, but just like cooking, he was passionate but clueless, leading to the front of the house looking… untamed, to say the least. As soon as he spotted Calypso, demonstrating her magic, he’d immediately become fascinated. One mention of both overgrowing and dying plants followed by a multitude of questions led to them hitting it off, and after a few more meetings he decided to show her the garden- now much more disciplined and tame.

That’s when Sans met her.

Papyrus had told him that he was bringing his “plant friend” home. Sans was fine with that, Papyrus brings friends home all the time. (He’s so cool.) He’d spent most of the time in his room napping, watching his trashnado, scrolling on his phone. He thinks he heard the door open at one point, chalking up to Paps coming home. At one point he found himself thirsty and teleported into the middle of the kitchen- where Calypso and Papyrus were.

It was funny how surprised she was, crying out loud and almost throwing her fork clear into the air, which Papyrus catches instinctively.

“SANS! I TOLD YOU I HAD COMPANY OVER! YOU CAN’T JUST TELEPORT ALL OVER THE PLACE!”

The tap water ran.

“sounds like your problem, bro.”

As Papyrus starts (comically) chastising him, Sans chuckles, only to catch a glimpse of her.

For a moment it feels like the world slowed down. The water flowed slowly, sloshing in his cup. Papyrus was in the middle of opening his mouth, and Calypso looked… a little lost.

Even when he first saw her, Sans knew she was pretty. Her long wavy hair looked like golden waterfalls over her shoulders. Her emerald green eyes were soft and sparkled in the light, shining with kindness. She was smaller than Sans expected, shorter than him. She looked slender and delicate. Her smile was crooked with confusion, looking up at Papyrus before glancing at Sans.

Her expression shrank back as she timidly keeps the eye contact.

“... hey.”

“Oh! Um… hello!”

“the name’s sans.”

“Calypso! Nice to meet you.”

Sans nodded. “so, you here for a while? or are you going to leaf soon?”

“Um?? No I’ll be here for a while longer now,”

“SANS…” Papyrus squints at him. Sans ignores him.

“what? i asked her a valid question.” Sans insists, “just wanted to tree what she was doing is all.”

Sans smiled when she starts giggling, not expecting the pun, while Papyrus boiled.

“DON’T PLANT IDEAS IN HER HEAD- NOT PLANT! DON’T RUIN HER WITH YOUR BAD JOKES! ALSO YOUR CUP IS OVERFLOWING.”

“oh shit-” Sans frowned, water dripping down his phalanges as he hurriedly closes the tap. His cheeks turned blue from embarrassment, and he chuckled hesitantly, glancing at Calypso.

what’s wrong with him? why’s he stumbling?

“AND TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION-” Sans’ attention was brought back to Papyrus, “WE’RE GOING TO PLAY A BOARDGAME! DO YOU WANT TO JOIN?”

Calypso stayed a bit longer than they expected, after. Despite her not knowing Sans all that well yet, a little shy around him, after enough puns she seemed to warm up to him. Having Papyrus there certainly helped.

She became a regular in Sans’ life, her visitings becoming more often as time went on. Sans… tried to keep her at arm’s length. The way she made him feel was strange to him. It scared him. It helped him keep his cool around her, at least, if he was distant.

A green mage, specializing in plants. Her soul trait was practically worn on her sleeve, with how empathetic and kind she was- too much, in Sans’ opinion. She was a timid creature at times, but Sans admired her magical prowess and her capacity for compassion.

Sans would usually only meet her when she visited. The other times were when he and Papyrus bumped into her on accident.

Sans didn’t want to admit that the idea of meeting her gave him the motivation to walk.

She was interesting, sweet, and being a mage helped, but despite the confusing feelings rising up in his chest, Sans tried his best not to get too attached. As long as she was nice and made Papyrus happy, he was alright with having her around.

Then one day, she came alone. He was watching TV when he heard the knock. His first thought was that Papyrus was home but… Papyrus’ knocks were loud and aggressive. (Even though Sans tells him he doesn’t have to knock when he comes home, he does anyway.) As he walked towards the door he thought it might’ve been one of the neighbours, but when he opened the door he found…

“Um… hi!”

calyp…so pretty,

“Excuse me?”

He said that out loud.

“i meant- calypso! pretty sure there wasn’t a schedule for some gardening today.”

If she noticed his slip up, she didn’t mention it.

“Oh! Actually, we aren’t gardening today! Papyrus asked me to teach him some ‘human cooking’ today.”

Cooking?

“Is he here?”

“ah… no, papyrus isn’t home yet.”

“Oh ok… should I wait somewhere else-”

“no.”

… Sans said that too fast.

“you… you can just stay here.”

He really should’ve known, then. Even while his soul stammered when she walked in the door, his denial pushed the feeling down.

It took a while to adjust out of the awkward silence, without Papyrus acting as the buffer. But after a couple of puns, Sans managed to get a conversation going.

“so, you an expert cook?”

“Not really… but Papyrus invited me to meet Undyne the other day,”

undyne? uh oh.

“She had one of her ‘classic’ cooking lessons? And uh… well I thought I could teach him how to make human food.”

Sans barked out a laugh, covering his mouth.

“sorry, i’m not laughing at you, just… stars, i’m so sorry you had to see my bro cook with undyne.”

“Yeah… I had to hand wash the tomato sauce off my jacket for hours,” Calypso scratched the back of her neck, “But Papyrus thought it was an honor that he’s going to learn how to cook human food from a real human!”

They were laughing together when Papyrus opened the door, almost silently. When they finally noticed he was there, he was smiling at them.

Then there was that other day, when it was just Sans and Calypso, out of the house.

It was the first time Papyrus finally mentioned that Sans should start teleporting her home. Calypso declined, insisting to Papyrus that she didn’t need to be sent home. Sans doesn’t think she knew he was sitting on the sofa then, because she seemed speechless when he stood up and told her “i’ll go.”

Papyrus was supposed to come with, but a sudden phone call had sent him on an emergency dash to Undyne’s. Something about a watchalong?

“SHE SAID SHE WAS GOING TO REWATCH THE ‘HUMAN HISTORY’ VIDEOS! IF I DON’T SAY YES NOW SHE’S GOING TO LOSE ALL MOTIVATION, I MUST SAVE HER!”

By this point, Sans and her were close enough that they could be in each other’s company in silence without feeling like he was going to melt in sweat. Sometimes it was Sans that called her over, even.

They took the bus.

“yeah… i could teleport there based off coordinates from maps, but… i’d rather not risk the both of us clipping through the wall if i get my maths wrong.”

They were having a fun conversation filled with plant puns- she’d started to get into the habit of learning his puns and throwing them back at him, something he was proud of- when a buzz rudely interrupted their conversation. When Calypso fished her phone out and saw the screen, she made a face.

“what’s up?”

“Uh… I think my neighbour wants me to landscape her garden?”

“huh. that your side gig huh?” Sans smirked at her playfully, but frowns when she doesn’t respond, looking like she just ate a lemon.

“No… she asks me to do it for her sometimes…”

Sans narrowed his eyes. “does she pay you?”

Calypso looked guilty, her eyes shifting everywhere but Sans.

“It’s not like… it’s a lot. She’s nice, she’s not making me do anything, I just…”

“do you like doing it for her?”

Calypso opened her mouth, and the way she searches and loses her words is enough explanation for Sans.

“tell her no.”

Calypso stared at Sans like he just grew a second head. He shrugs and repeats his words.

“tell her no,”

“I can’t do that!”

“why not?”

Sans does feel a little guilty about distressing her, squeezing the bus pole harder than she needed to, but Sans doesn’t like that people would use her magic like that. He knows what it’s like to expend magic when you don’t want to, and… Calypso is nice. Too nice. It’s a testament to her green soul.

Sans sighed.

“... i can talk to her for you.”

The relief on her face betrayed her true feelings.

“R-really? I mean, you don’t… have to…”

“i’m coming over, aren’t i? it’s going to be fine. also, might as well throw you a bone.”

The pun surprised a laugh out of her, and Sans relaxed.

Just like he thought, nothing bad happened. Apparently the neighbour in question lived right next to her, and has regularly asked Calypso to help fix her garden once she found out she was a plant mage. She was a lovely old lady, actually, and all it took to convince her to stop was Sans explaining how draining it was to use magic so much, so regularly.

“hey,” Sans piped, as they stood in her doorway. “it’s ok to say no, you know. you gotta stand up for yourself more.”

She fidgeted (Sans really wanted to pinch her, then…), but nodded.

“heh, at least now you’ve got a quick-travel option for you,” Sans chuckled, pointing to himself as he turns around. “see ya ‘round, callie.”

Sans was moments from teleporting when he heard her asking him to wait.

When he turned around, she looked… bashful.

“Sans,” her eyes seemed to sparkle, “... thank you.”

Warmth flooded his ribcage, and magic rose to his cheekbones. His soul thumped.

“n… no problem.”

Sans felt like he was flying- and like his world was crashing around him when he got home.

shit.

i like her.

She was precious. Sans wanted to protect her. He wanted to be closer to her.

And he was clueless.

Which brings him to today. Sans feels stupid- feeling like he’s having a crisis because he has a crush? (On a lovely… pretty… wonderful human…) How did he never notice it? How did he not see it coming? When he thinks back to it, he remembers how the feelings festered in his soul- he was just stupid, or too deep in denial to acknowledge it.

Every time he’s around her… Sans felt like a stumbling baby just learning its first steps. He isn’t… cool. He’s a skeleton that smells like ketchup and makes puns. He doesn’t know how many people are in Calypso’s life, but he doesn't have to, to know that he’s probably not high on her list of suitors. Especially with the way he was absent and kept their conversations rare in the beginning, he didn’t go off to a good start.

Calypso is Papyrus’ friend. Sans didn’t want to cause a rift between the two of them because he had his first love crush. Their friendship was precious and Sans didn’t want to be the one that messes things up.

He wonders what’d happen if he confessed. What if she had trouble saying no to him? Would Sans lose her trust? Would he scare her? Just the thought made Sans recoil from the idea. And… what if she liked Papyrus? That’d make sense. Papyrus was cooler. They were close.

They’d walked in by this point, a piping hot plate of spaghetti set on the table. Sans doesn’t remember when they started cooking, staying quiet for most of it. Papyrus’ cooking was not only edible, but delicious too. Calypso had been a wonderful teacher.

She was amazing. Sans can’t stop looking- she was radiant, as always. He keeps his mouth shut while they talked, adding a “mm?” “yeah.” and “ok.” when prompted. His soul thumped whenever she was around and he hoped it wasn’t glowing past his shirt.

He felt embarrassed. And a little pathetic.

Sans doesn’t know what it is about today that has him in a funk like this. When Calypso said her goodbyes and turned to leave, he should’ve let her go home, as usual. That’s what he always does. But today, when the door closes, something in Sans reacts.

Before he knew it, he’d walked out the door. The sun had gone and the stars had started to peek out of the veil.

“cal?” He breathed, “calypso, wait. there’s something i need to tell you.”

She turns around, and Sans could feel his voice fading already.

why does she look at me like that? it makes me want to…

He swallows.

“i’m sorry, this is sudden, but i don’t think i can hold it back anymore, i just…”

The face Calypso was making makes Sans trip over his words.

“i like you, calypso.” Sans says, earnestly. “i like you… a lot. it’s ok, if you don’t like me back. i’ve felt this way for a while, and i feel like if i didn’t tell you, i’d… i don’t know. i want to let you know that when i’m quiet i’m not upset with you, that’s me trying to stop myself from looking like an idiot around you.”

Calypso is speechless.

“... please stay friends with papyrus.” Sans adds, trying to physically shrink into his hoodie. “if you don’t want me around anymore i-”

Hihihi!

Sans stops. Calypso… Calypso was giggling.

“You thought… I wouldn’t want you to like me?” she says, in between chortles.

“i… i guess…”

She’s covering her mouth and her cheeks have turned pink. “I thought I was being so obvious.”

“about what?”

She shakes her head at him, disbelieving.

“I like you too, Sans.”

The ringing in his head stops.

“you… you do?”

“I’ve liked you since… oh, I don’t know, maybe since we met? I thought you could read souls! Have you not noticed how excited I get when you’re around?

Sans smiles. His cheeks hurt.

“no, i never noticed.”

His feet move on his own, slippers flopping over the pavement, and he hugs her. Her muffled giggling in his hoodie was wonderful.

“i feel stupid,”

“Don’t be!”

Sans pulls his skull back to look at her.

“i… haha… i can’t wait to bring you on dates… we’re going to have a punderful time…”

“Oh no!” she squeaks, as Sans picks her off the floor and spins her around. “I guess I’ll have tibia really good at puns to catch up with you!”

Sans laughs, and doesn’t stop. She does too, bracing her hands on his shoulders, cheeks red.

Sans loves her laugh. He hopes he’ll get to hear more of it.

He hopes he’ll be the source of her laughter.

[gallierhouse]

I don’t think I could accrue wealth if I was a vampire. I simply wouldn’t know how. I love spending money. Realistically, I’d probably just use mind control for financial gain or wanton murder and falsified wills. But I really wouldn’t be good at it. I mean, it wouldn’t come naturally. I’d probably spend it all in the first week on something frivolous. I’d commission a fondant statue of myself. I’d attempt to replicate Damien Hirst at home and end up ruining the property with the formaldehyde. I’d get into oil painting and spill turpentine everywhere. I’d buy cars and crash them into the bushes. I’d have the grand idea to build life-sized marionettes of everyone I know and then I’d give up halfway and leave the parts strewn everywhere. I’d spend an inordinate amount of money surveilling everyone I know 24/7 and then I’d get bored after finding out too much about them and ruining the illusion of love for myself. I’d build an indoor pool that was three stories high and then abandon it because it’s too deep and therefore a little creepy. I’d buy every type of fabric and methodically set each one on fire to see how it burns. I’d definitely get really into arson. I enjoy arson. I’d break into houses to turn the gas on and watch it blow. I’d build a tank and fill it with sharks and I’d toss food in to watch them feed. I’d abandon them after I got bored. I’d collect rugs and plaster all four walls with them and make a complicated furred cave-like system inside my house. I’d kidnap famous people I was fond of and then get bored and accidentally leave them in dungeons. I’d set up shop in a UNESCO world heritage site because I’ve always really wanted to experience the ancient world firsthand. I’d pester older vampires about where they came from until they made me stop. I’d throw dishes at the wall and watch them break and then I’d throw axes and then I’d throw bowling balls. I’d drag my claws through the wallpaper and ruin everything. I’d key cars with them. I’d key people’s faces with them. I’d pour acid down the drain. I’d get really into tools, and I’d test them on all manner of surfaces. I’d get really into dehydrating things for a fortnight and it would culminate in me dehydrating things that shouldn’t be dehydrated. I’d watch blood soak through hardwood floors from the underside. I’d build water tanks a la The Prestige and put myself in them until I got bored. I’d get really into magic tricks, then get immediately frustrated when I wasn’t perfect at them, and then I’d kill the audience out of pride. I’d go to movies and tear up the projector if I didn’t like the film. I’d go to plays and I’d tie up everyone and try on all the costumes and play with the props if I liked the production. And if I didn’t like it I’d just have some breakfast. I’d go to church obsessively and then get frustrated one day and I’d eat the priest. I’d watch the pews from the rafters and and listen to confession. I’d get into ice sculpture and I’d get angry every spring. I’d get into robots and I’d build them to rip them apart. Then I’d start all over again. I’d study people and draw diagrams of their minds. I’d kidnap someone and go through their memories like a filing cabinet. I’d open up an ATM to see what it looks like inside. I’d probably feed things to escalators. Boring.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Prompt #3: Tempest

-----

( guest-starring @saesama 's Klynt)

-----

Even with Klynt at the topmast and the storm-shielding in place, it took the ship another two hours to clear the sudden tempest. When they finally were free of the storm, Reinhardt carried Klynt back inside to the small area the Dominants were using for sleeping. Mathye was already there, armed and ready with his medical kit.

“Fucking hells, she looks like shite.” He breathed. Reinhardt set her down on the travel-mattress, taking the mana potion Halone’s Second Dominant was holding out. Without ceramony, he held it to the roe's lips.

“Drink.” He ordered. To his relief and anxiety, Klynt obeyed, not putting up a fight as how she normally would. Once the bottle was dry, Mathye handed over another one.

“What’s it like topside?” He asked.

“If you’re asking if the sailors are going to throw us in chains or overboard, the answer is no. They’re more concerned about their own and her.” Reinhardt watched as Klynt greedily downed the second mana potion. Her color had improved, and as he reached for a third bottle, she reached out for his wrist.

“I’m alright.” She rasped. “Susano is too. We’re just tired. Sleep’ll fix us.” Reinhardt looked at Mathye, who was checking Klynt’s pulse. The white mage looked back at him, nodding.

“Sleep and food.” He directed. “Ship’s cook has some stew going that’s not actually half-bad. Let’s get some—” He trailed off as Klynt’s free hand moved, Susano’s strength now gripping him. Reinhardt blinked as the same vice-like grip locked around his hand as well.

“Klynt?!"

“What the—” Klynt pulled, making both men loom over her. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

“That storm was not natural!” She whispered. “We heard a voice on the wind, commanding it!” Susano’s wine-dark tones crept into her last words, and she let go of the pair. Reinhardt and Mathye shared a shocked glance.

“Someone was commanding the storm?” Mathye was the first to recover, while Reinhardt rocked back on his heels and scanned the room. For the moment, they were the only ones present.

“A power like ours, behind it.” Klynt swallowed again. “Strong as us. Maybe stronger. It took everything we had to keep the worst at bay.”

A power like...wait a minute! “An Eikon?!” Reinhardt hissed. Zurvan immediately surged to the forefront of his mind, and he was certain Halone was doing the same.

“Don’t know.” Klynt replied. Mathye turned and poured a glass of water, holding it to the pirate queen’s lips. Klynt greedily drained it dry, and Mathye refilled the glass.

“Are you certain about what you two sensed?” He asked, his voice low. Klynt nodded.

“I don’t know if it was a primal, god, or Eikon, but that storm was not natural. It was summoned by someone, and being controlled by them.” Reinhardt shared a look with Mathye, and in the aether Zurvan and Halone were doing the same.

Wuk Lamat spoke of creatures called turaal vidraal that she likened to us. Halone ventured. Could this be one of them?

[slunch]

“My name is Esker,” the person said. He didn’t remove his mask, but now that they were indoors in better light Nora realized she was speaking to a young man. “I need you to help me understand where in the city they might be.”

“One day to find two kids in the entire city!” Nora said. “Don’t you have some spell or something to track the hand?”

The man steepled his hands in front of him on the table. “I am a very good magician. If the wards on her arm were faulty, I would be able to find it immediately.”

“But it’s not,” said Nora, catching on.

“That’s right,” he said, nodding encouragingly at her leap of logic, “it’s not, because I am a good magician. My radiance wards on the arm are like a dam: water only starts gushing through in the moments before the dam collapses.”

“Uh-huh,” said Nora, cracking the bottle. “Want a drink?”

“No.”

Nora shrugged and retrieved a mug from a side table before pouring herself a generous portion. She sipped it and her face curdled, and she tilted her head before reconsidering and taking a larger gulp.

“How do you you know they’re still in the city?” she said, topping up her mug.

“My dragon is watching the gates from the sky,” Esker said. “He can stay in the air for another day before he needs to eat again.”

“Does he have a name?”

The young man shook his head and stared out the window. “It does not translate well. ‘Arm’s-length Wind Romance.’ He belongs to my father.”

“But he sent you,” Nora said.

“It was my mistake, so he sent me,” Esker said, eyes hard. “Many years ago, there was a town at the western foothills of our, ah, dragon-”

“Dragon-blight,” said Nora helpfully. His eye twitched.

“Yes. Some years ago, several thieves tunneled into my workspace through a seam in the rock and stole something.”

“What did you do back then?”

“I wanted to stop them, but I was forbidden. My father let them take it back to the town, where it poisoned everyone.”

“But you can stop it this time?”

“I will be recalled if I cannot.”

Nora narrowed her eyes. “But you’re immune to the radiant poison.”

“Yes.”

“Then just immunize everyone else.”

“It doesn’t work that way!” Esker’s eyes bugged out over his mask and he surged forwards with palms slammed on the table.

“Hey, easy!” said Nora, raising a protective hand over her drink as the figure opposite her slowly sat back. “I don’t know anything about magic.”

“Do they let any commoner wear a focus in this town? You…do not seem to understand the urgency of the situation.”

“Oh, this thing? I mean, what?” said Nora, who had genuinely forgotten she was wearing the hair clip and realized too late that she shouldn’t have confirmed the question.

“You can cast.”

“Nah, no way...” said Nora, waving away the pointed accusation as if she were humbly brushing off a compliment.

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Show me,” he hissed, and the air crackled. Nora leaned back.

“Fine, fine. It’s just this one little thing though,” she said, gesturing vaguely with one hand and scratching the back of her head with the other.

“If you look closely, you will see that there’s nothing in my hand,” she continued, holding out one empty hand across the table. Esker obligingly looked down to scrutinize it as Nora palmed the poker chip in the hand behind her head.

“Now, watch.” And she spoke the spell and jabbed her outstretched fingers forward into the chestpiece of the leather armor.

A geyser of blood erupted from the contact point and drenched Nora’s face and hair as Esker scrabbled backwards, batting away her hand and falling back onto the floor. She laughed uproariously as he rolled away.

“GOT YOU!”

The panicked dragon-rider was trying to simultaneously staunch the false bleeding and draw a dagger. Nora drained her mug and slammed it back down on the table, grinning maniacally with a blood-covered face and the euphoria of perfecting a cast at the right time. She realized she didn’t care if she lived or died after this moment.

Esker finally stopped and looked up with rage glinting in their eyes.

“Is that all you can cast?”

Nora nodded, still grinning. The illusory blood was already beginning to vaporize. Esker slipped the dagger back into the sheath and there was a click as some mechanism locked it in place.

“I should have contacted the other one.”

“I hate that guy,” Nora said scornfully. “He can’t even do magic.”

Then she turned her head towards the young man sitting across from her. “What can you cast? I’ve been taking you at your word this entire time but I haven’t seen you toss out a single spell.”

“Let’s go outside,” he said, and motioned to the half-empty bottle of Bartleby’s Fortified Gold-Label Reserve. “I’ll need that.”

They tramped out of the gatehouse back to Nora’s original post. A thin night mist had descended over the river and muffled the rest of the sounds of the city. They stood on the cobblestones above the deserted docks and Nora hefted the bottle.

“Toss it in the air over the river,” said Esker. “Better if I don’t know exactly where it’s going.”

“Hold on,” said Nora, and drained it. Then, still holding the sticky bottle by its neck, she flung it into the air. They both watched it tumble end over end up into the mist.

The dragon-rider raised a languid hand.

“So what-” she began before the sound of a metallic whipcrack interrupted her. A white horseshoe shot into the air, faster than an arrow, and smashed the bottle in two. Esker spoke more quiet syllables, and two more projectiles flashed from his fingers. They pulled the mist as they went, carving two swirling tunnels directly towards the falling halves of the bottle.

The next two explosions of glass were muffled in the gloom. There was a soft patter of shards falling into the river.

“Hoo!” said Nora. “Teach me that!

[justsomeclintasha]

Clint doesn’t remember what made his father angry that night. It could have been anything or nothing at all.

He’s learned how to take a punch by now, but this time it’s worse as he’s grabbed by the throat and pummeled against the wall. Finally it stops, and his head is swimming as he’s thrown out the door into the pouring rain. He knows without trying that it’s locked.

Crawling through the mud, he makes his way to the dog house. He doesn’t know why it’s here. They never had a dog. Never will. Never could.

The world is spinning and muffled as he curls his body inside. The floorboards are rotted. He can’t tell if it’s water or blood running down the side of his face. Thunder rumbles outside, but he no longer hears it.

XXXXX

Barney tells him to shut up when the cops knock on the door. He stuffs his Captain America comic book under the cushion and peeks out through the curtains.

His brother clenches his jaw as they speak to him. He shakes his head and walks back inside.

“Pack a bag,” he tells him, and disappears into his room. Confused, Clint looks towards the officers. They explain to him that his parents are dead- drunk and wrapped around a tree. He’s relieved about his father, sad about his mother, and before he can figure it out, Barney is back and pulling him away.

“Pack,” he tells him again, shoving a gym bag in his arms. Clint doesn’t know what to take, so he finds a few outfits and his trading cards. He doesn’t know if they’ll come back and he doesn’t ask.

Riding in the police car would be better under different circumstances. The office they let them sleep in is hot and smells like cologne. A fan hums softly in the corner.

“I miss mom,” Clint says quietly. Barney huffs and rolls over to face the back of the couch.

“Don’t be a baby.”

XXXXX

Having a permanent place to stay is strange. He thought he might like it, but the bed is too soft and the room is too quiet. He slips out from under the covers and pads over to the window.

Rain trickles slowly down the glass. He presses him palm against it and sighs. A slight headache pulses at his temples. He should take his aids out and give his ears a break, but he can’t relax yet. Can’t let his guard down.

The man who brought him in, Coulson, seemed genuine, and he prides himself on his ability to read people. But what if. What if…

He turns away, slumping down on the couch with his head in his hands. It’s been three days of not sleeping and it’s starting to wear him down. He could read a book or watch some tv.

Flicking through the channels, he stops at a cartoon. A dog wearing a police hat is interrogating a fluffy white cat on the screen. He shrugs and pulls a blanket over his lap.

XXXXX

The Widow is a master of changing her disguise. He almost didn’t recognize her when she walked into the hospital, blonde and wearing a bright pink rain coat. But now, the jacket is gone and the red hair is back.

He furrows his brow as she reaches into her pocket. He watches her take a deep breath, then click something small in her hand.

Immediately, an explosion rocks the air and he ducks on instinct. It’s a block away. The hospital. The kids. It’s on fire and it’s burning and what the hell-

His eyes snap back to the alleyway. She touches her ear and says something into her comm. Rage pulses through him, and he brings up his sniper rifle before he’s even thinking.

And then he stops.

Because she throws the comm into the storm drain and falls to her knees in a puddle, arms wrapped around herself in a hug as she sobs.

And shit, he thinks, lowering the gun with a sigh.

There’s something in there worth saving.

XXXXX

He’s driving too fast and he knows it.

Rain beats heavy on his windshield, wipers going as quickly as they can and still unable to keep up. She’s probably going to yell at him when he gets there for his carelessness.

He parks outside the front of her apartment. Usually they stay at the tower, but tonight she’s here. The flower basket on her front porch swings wildly in the wind. An effort to pull his hood up is useless. He’s already drenched.

The door is unlocked and she’s curled up on the couch, watching him with wary eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re soaked.”

“You sounded like you were freaking out on the phone.”

“Do you want a towel?”

“Tasha.” Her nickname, the one no one else can call her. He kneels down in front of her on the floor. “Tell me what’s going on,” he prods gently. After a moment, she reaches into her sweatshirt and pulls out a little plastic stick with two blue lines.

He looks at her in shock, and for the first time in a long time he can tell she’s scared.

“Nat you’re..?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.”

She presses her hands to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, and he pulls her into his arms, both of them wet and crying, until finally he draws back to look at her.

“It’s good yeah?”

“It’s amazing,” she confirms, and that starts another whole round of crying. “You’re still soaked,” she blurts out, pushing him back. He laughs, wiping his eyes.

“So are you.”

“I love the rain,” she whispers, squeezing his hand. He squeezes back.

“Me, too.”

[twistmusings]

i'm here yet again to request the 'leading up to a kiss' series, this time for octavinelle. the savanaclaw edition was so sweet and soothing, especially ruggie's part! on that note, i really appreciate the work and care you put into each piece of this series. thank you so much! 💓

Thank you so much, anon! I have a lot of fun when I get to write small drabbles since drabbles and fics are normally my wheelhouse!

Octavinelle - Leading up to a kiss

CW: None. GN pronouns used for partner.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul has always valued intelligence above all else. It was why he kept the Leech twins around despite their penchant for resorting to rather meat-headed tendencies when the going got tough, and it's why he puts so much value on himself seeming to be the smartest and most capable person in the room.

He's seated at his table, running the totals for the lounge for the evening. Normally Jade would be sitting next to him and assisting, but it was his and Floyd's birthday so he had given them the night free to do as they pleased and have their fun. He taps his ink pen against his scratch pad of paper, clicking his tongue against his teeth quietly in thought as he did his mental math.

"What're you doing?" They had asked when they'd approached. Azul didn't look up from his number-crunching, to answer.

"Just closing out the day."

He suspects they will walk over and take a seat in one of the office chairs, so imagine his surprise when they took a seat next to him. They glance at the tabs and seem to quickly pick up on his system-- items that have already been totaled here, items that needed to be deducted still there, calculations for employee wages based on hours worked over there-- and immediately begin to help sort.

He's impressed and a little baffled, honestly. They hadn't even had to be asked for help, nor had they needed his system explained to them. It had just clicked for them.

Azul catches himself staring at the same time that they do. They laugh, and he realizes with a start that he's been chewing on the end of his pen rather unbecomingly. Embarassing. They don't point it out.

"How else can I help?"

"There is one more thing." Azul hums, just a bit lost in his thoughts for a moment. They look at him curiously while he carefully weighs his options.

Despite his instincts screaming at him to run and hide in his octopus pot, he leans in and presses a quick, chaste kiss to their lips. They blink at him, surprised by how quickly he'd done it, if he had to guess.

"If you help me crunch these numbers, I may give you another."

Jade Leech

Jade hums sleepily, blinking his eyes open as the bright light of the sun overhead filters through his tent. He awakens with a deep stretch, spidering his limbs as much as he can in his rather cramped tent.

He rouses and crawls his way through the opening in the tent, taking a deep breath of the crisp, dewy morning air and feeling the way it makes the tension drain out of his shoulders.

The mountains are beautiful first thing in the morning. Jade squints slightly against the sunlight as he looks over the lush green of the forest and the reflection of the sun scattering off the placid surface of the lake in the distance below them.

Ah, right, them. They'd been what had woken him up. He turns his attention to them, where they're cooking breakfast and heating water over a small campfire.

"Good morning." Jade chirps as he approaches, peeking over their shoulder to see what they are making. They nod to tell him they'd heard him, but they're focused on their stirring, tongue poking out of their mouth a little bit at the corner. Human quirks were so charming-- he'd asked what the purpose of sticking their tongue out was and had been told something to the effect of it helping "focus better".

He takes a seat next to them, watching them work.

"Oh!" They take a moment, but they seem to remember something, and they take the stoneware kettle off of the fire, pouring the hot water into a couple of camp mugs. They pass him a cup with a soft "for you".

Jade glances down into the cup at what's steeping-- a blend of fresh tea with pine needles and the other foraged plants they'd collected while they were out. Jade can't help but to smile a bit, a little enamored by the thoughtfulness.

"Thank you." He laughs gently, leaning in toward them. When their lips meet comfortably, a confident amount of pressure without him nicking them with his teeth. He lingers just a little, the arm not holding his tea looping loosely around their waist. He twists his head and deepens the kiss in a way that makes their mind blank out.

Well, at least it does until their breakfast spits oil at the two of them violently, making them part in a mad scramble to get away from the spitting oil.

Floyd Leech

Floyd's mood has always functioned like a pendulum-- peaks and valleys can hit him at the drop of a hat, and it's unpredictability is exhausting.

He's in a valley, right now, and he wants nothing more than to stay in his bed and wallow. He's already threatened to bite Azul when he'd tried to rouse him this morning, and actually had bitten Jade. (And then Jade had pushed him hard enough that he fell off the edge of his bed and onto the floor and it had been a whole fight and then they'd gotten lectured-- ugh.)

He's wrapped in his blankets like a cocoon. When he'd first come on land, he'd really hated how it felt to be tangled in fabric, but now it feels like a welcome burrow that surrounds him in safety and still will let him reach out and snap with his teeth if he needs. Despite how silly he looks when he does this, it's some comfort when he feels terrible.

They had come to see him. No doubt that Azul and Jade had called them in because they know that they're one of Floyd's favorite people to play around with. They had asked if it was okay to be there and Floyd had said 'Yes' and then they'd asked if he wanted to do something.

Doing things just sounded exhausting, he just wanted to sleep. So he'd said 'no', and he figured they would leave. Instead, they just sat down next to him in silence while he wormed around in his sheets in feeble attempts to make himself feel better.

"'m sorry I'm not more fun today, shrimpy." He huffs after a long, long while. He's trying to improve his own mood but it's just making him tired. But them being there is helping, at least a little.

"You don't have to be fun all the time. I'm here to try and cheer you up, if I can."

Floyd grumbles, peering out of his blanket wrap enough to frown at them.

"...I don't think I'm going to feel better today."

"That's ok, too."

"... Will you lay with me for a while?" He asks. They laugh a little, but nod anyway. It takes some struggling, but Floyd unwraps the blanket enough that they can slide in next to him. Immediately he wraps them both in the blanket and his arms, always affectionate. It's hard to feel quite as bad when they're laying against him and laughing at him struggling to wriggle his limbs free. "I'm glad you're trying to help."

"Of course."

Floyd doesn't think twice about it, honestly, when he leans in and presses a quick kiss against their mouth. He knows the significance, though he's quite blasé with showing his affection toward his shrimp in particular. His mood might be temperamental, but he hopes they know that he appreciates how much the deal with from him.

[woogigi]

Sick Day

Yuqi wakes up sick and Soyeon takes care of her.

Some yuyeon fluff <33

“A- a- achoo!”

Soyeon sighed when she heard the clear sign of a sick Yuqi coming from their bedroom. She immediately turned the kettle on, the rumbling filling the silence as she placed lemon, ginger and honey into a mug. All the while mentally preparing herself for the day ahead. She made sure to check her messages and inform their manager of the sick puppy. There was no way she would let Yuqi try and go to any of her lessons today.

It would be a fight but Soyeon would not let her get worse or make anyone else sick just because the younger one was stubborn. Especially now, with a comeback and tour ahead even her unusual high energy self was drained by the end of the day. So much so Soyeon and her barely spoke by the time they were shutting the lights off and curling into each other. 

Soyeon herself was an incredibly hard worker and it frustrated Yuqi how Soyeon would shut everything out when preparing for a comeback. When tour time came around Soyeon truly understood why Yuqi got upset. Soyeon missed her hanging around in her studio or making them homemade food hoping the smell would lure the leader out of her studio. It always worked and Soyeon would love to wipe the proud smile off Yuqi’s lips every time if she wasn't so adorable when relishing in her win.

When the kettle whistled she sighed as she poured the water into the mug. She put it on a tray with her coffee and some other flu medicine. She walked into the room and smiled at the girl bundled up in their bed. Yuqi’s cheeks were tinted pink and her hair was splayed all over her pillow. A few strands hanging over her face. 

“Yuqi?”

The younger groaned and turned over.

“Come on, I brought some medicine for you.”

“No.”

Soyeon rolled her eyes but pulled the cover back despite Yuqi’s obvious desire to fight back, “Take it now or I’m calling Shuhua to take care of you and leaving you in her hands.”

Yuqi turned back to her pouting, “that’s mean.” 

Soyeon smiled as she moved the hair out of Yuqi’s face, “I do it because I love you.”

Yuqi sat up, “That’s not fair, you know I’ll do anything for you now.”

“I just want you to take care of yourself too.”

“I prefer it more when you take care of me,” Yuqi smiled sweetly before turning to the side to sneeze.

Soyeon grabbed the tissues next to the bed and passed them to her, “Come on - take your medicine and drink the tea then you’re gonna shower while I make us some food. Okay?”

Yuqi nodded but her pout had Soyeon chuckling. Soyeon got up to give Yuqi more space, she moved to her side of the bed and lay on top of the covers next to the sick girl. Yuqi picked up the medicine downing the tablets and cough syrup before using the tea to take the taste out of her mouth. Yuqi settled down under the covers again.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Soyeon reminded her, “You have to take a shower.”

“Why?” Yuqi groaned, turning to her with the covers covering the bottom half of her face so only her nose and round eyes could be seen.

Soyeon giggled and booped her nose, “being adorable isn’t gonna stop me from forcing you into that bathroom,” she rested her hand on Yuqi’s cheek feeling how hot it was, “It’s going to make you feel better.”

Yuqi rolled her eyes but turned to lay on her back, “fine.” she looked back at Soyeon with a mischievous smile, “but only if you kiss me first.”

The older girl moved back, “you have to be out of your mind. I am not getting sick.”

Yuqi chuckled but took the covers off turning to Soyeon with a wide smile, “I thought you loved me though?”

“Not enough to be sick. I also happen to have a lot of work by the way,” Soyeon replied, moving back a little.

Yuqi huffed, “No fair.”

“Life’s not fair.” 

Soyeon laughed at Yuqi’s silence, turning back to face her. Yuqi was pouting and her feverish cheeks and messy hair only made Soyeon laugh louder at how adorable she looked. That only seemed to make Yuqi even more sulky. Soyeon shook her head as she pulled Yuqi closer to her and kissed the top of her head.

“When you’re better, my love.”

Yuqi settled and Soyeon let her fingers smooth out the frown lines until the younger’s sulkiness was all gone. Yuqi was starting to doze off again and Soyeon thought to wake her, but stopped herself. Yuqi could sleep in for a little longer. She turned to her phone making sure to inform whoever needed to know that she and Yuqi were sick and would be taking leave. She turned her phone off and got herself under the covers trying not to wake the sleepy girl and held Yuqi close as she followed her into sweet dreams. 

xxx

Hey! Something a little different to what I usually post but I hope you like it♡ lemme know if you want me to post more fluff too.