#I think I went blind after staring at bright colors and fucking around with filters for hours now

[mayhemspreadingguy]

a companion piece

[mikrowrites]

cottages of constellations

c!wilbur x f!reader

warnings: angst, fluffy flashbacks, arson, character death

summary: there’s a place only known by two people, full of sweet memories and domesticity. but the world isn’t sweet anymore, and sometimes violence is the only universal language. rather, Sophie visits the cottage she and Wilbur shared before the war, and is met by an unlikely guest.

might make a part two w doomsday and revivebur, we shall see...

Y/n sighed, sitting upon her horse as the wind blew across the grassy field. Smoke still rose behind her from fires still not put out long after the destruction, the girl shaking her head to try and absolve the memory from her head.

She gripped the reins, goading the horse to move, Y/n riding across the field. She knew where she needed to go, she knew the coordinates by heart.

No one else knew about the cottage, just two people, and one of them... well, he’s dead. There’s no sugar coating that. It resided far from the server, a little place just for the two of them.

After a few hours, with the sun rising behind, Y/n rode into the woods. She kept going forwards until she reached the river, stopping the horse. She looked forwards, pursing her lips.

The cottage.

“This is the perfect place!”

Wilbur jumped off his horse, pointing to the small clearing along the river.

“You think so?” Y/n asked, walking up beside him to stare at the landscape.

“Of course.” He emphasized. “But of course perfect is wherever you are.”

Y/n scoffed. “Jesus, that was cheesy.”

Wilbur laughed, running down the landscape towards the small clearing. He turned back, smiling.

“Hey, are you coming?”

Y/n tied her horse to a lead, patting it in thanks before moving forwards, approaching the cottage.

It looked frozen in time, from when Y/n had left it to help fight for L’manburg. The flowers still looked kept, the farm out back unharvested. She smiled as she approached the cottage, taking in the blooming flowers.

“It’s a surprise, so no looking.”

“Okay, okay!” Y/n allowed Wilbur to lead her over outside the cottage.

Wilbur stopped. “Okay, you can look.”

Y/n opened her eyes, walking over to peer at several brightly colored flowers planted around the cottage’s exterior. The hues painted the landscape, causing her jaw to drop at the beauty.

“Do you like it?” Wilbur nervously asked, Y/n whipping her head around to cast him a bright smile.

“I love it, Wilbur.”

Y/n pushed the oak door open, the hinges creaking. She let out a few coughs as dust invaded her senses, stepping into the cottage. the lanterns were flickered out, pots of plants and flowers left withered and dead.

She walked past a set of bookshelves, running her fingers across the spines of the books.

Wilbur and Y/n sat together, books in each of their hands as they read and relish each other’s company. A kettle of water was being heated in the kitchen, the sun filtering through the windows.

Y/n flipped a page, not noticing as Wilbur’s eyes lifted from the pages to her face, studying every bit of her. A soft smile crossed his face as he studied her soft green eyes, the bridge of her nose, her eyebrows that were furrowed in concentration.

Suddenly her eyes flicked up, Wilbur’s face going red. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing! Nothing, no, not at all, no, uh—“Wilbur smiled sheepishly. “You’re... you’re just so ethereal right now.”

It was Y/n’s turn to blush as she tried to hide her cheeks behind the book, the boy laughing.

Y/n grasped a rung of the ladder in her hand, sighing for a moment before pulling herself up. Each step up the ladder her heart quickened, her lips trembled.

She climbed into the loft area, her breath catching in her throat.

The bed was still perfectly made from the day she left it. The sunset reflected perfectly into the room from the large glass window, casting the room into a beautiful orange hue. Y/n turned and saw the chest in the corner, the sight bringing her to her knees.

The letters.

“I’ll write you so many letters, Y/n/n!” Wilbur insisted, grasping her hands. “Every day! Until you can join me, we can send those letters.”

Y/n nodded eagerly. “I’ll miss you, Wil.”

The boy pulled her into an embrace, the girl burying her face in his shirt. He smiled, tracing circles into her back comfortingly. “A letter a day for you, until we see each other again.”

And a letter a day she received.

The letters came daily, some recalling the events of the day, some poems, some love letters. Y/n read each letter enthusiastically, hearing of Wilbur’s adventures and the people he encountered. The nation he was creating, L’manburg.

Then, after receiving a letter detailing the start of the war for L’manburg, Y/n packed her bag, took her horse, and left for the server. She fought alongside Wilbur and the others, resisting for independence.

Y/n’s hands trembled as she sifted through and read each letter, the open pieces of parchment cast about the floor in front of her. Her heart ached as she read the words of a man whom she had lost so long ago, so long before his death. The Wilbur that had wrote Y/n songs and poems declaring his love and admiration had died in that war, leaving a man she could hardly recognize.

The orange glow of the sun was fading from the room, darkening the inside of the cottage. Y/n felt tears gather in her eyes as she finished reading the last letter, two teardrops pattering on the wood floor. The letter fluttered from her hand onto the ground with the rest, the girl wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She stood, looking out the window and noting how night was fast approaching. Y/n frowned, reaching into her pocket to produce a box of matches, walking over the the bedside lantern to light it. She struck the match, the flame igniting, lighting the lantern.

Y/n went to shake out the match before freezing, her eyes fixed upon the yellow light of the small flickering flame.

The fire crackled softly as melodic guitar chords filled the night with sweet music. The river rushed by near them, as well as the sounds of the rustling leaves in the wind, creating an orchestra of soothing sounds.

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes and resting her head against Wilbur’s shoulder as he strummed the guitar. They sat on a blanket in front of the fire, one of Wilbur’s coats draped over the girl’s shoulders.

Peace. Both felt total and complete peace.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” Y/n mused, staring up at the stars.

“Maybe, someday, we will. We’ll just lay and chart constellations.” Wilbur responded confidently.

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes and letting the sounds of Wilbur’s guitar and the campfire lull her to sleep.

“I’d like that.”

The lit match felt heavy between Y/n’s fingers, the girl sitting amongst the countless letters once more. Night had fallen, the stars dotting the sky. Y/n stared out at the stars, catching sight of constellations and clouds and the moon.

She reached for a letter, parting her lips.

“You lied to me.”

Y/n stood once more and let the letter meet the match, the paper going up in flames. She dropped it, the flaming parchment falling to the floor and igniting the rest of the precious letters that could have redeemed Wilbur.

She stepped back, watching as flames set to the wood of the room, the bed, the carpet. The girl spared the room one last look before climbing down the ladder, throwing the match onto the bookshelf, and walking out of the cottage. Y/n walked backwards, watching as surely the cottage was caught in a fury of flames.

Y/n finally let herself breathe, exhaling deeply as if a weight had lifted off her chest. She watched her old home burn, finally feeling a sense of finality.

“You sure did a number on that house.”

Her eyes widened, spinning and quickly unsheathing her sword and raising it to the person behind her’s neck. Y/n’s eyes hardened, glaring at the unwanted visitor.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” She spat.

She could almost see Dream’s smile from under his mask. “Wilbur sure did love his secrets. Was will to impart a few to me in exchange for some TNT. I figured you might be here.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “He... he told you about the cottage?”

“Y/n... he told me everything.” Dream responded. She slowly lowered her sword, stepping away from Dream. “I understand everything now. Your blind devotion to him, the loyalty. The server that drove him to betray that trust.”

“You did.” Y/n insisted. “You drove him to his death. You caused all of this.”

“Wilbur made his own decisions.” Dream shrugged. “And as I can see now, so can you.”

Y/n turned to look back at the fire. “So, you’re here to kill me then, yeah?”

“No, I’m not.” Dream quickly replied, Y/n looking back at him. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

“An offer? What the hell does that mean?” She scoffed.

Dream approached her. “They’re rebuilding L’Manburg as we speak. They never learn, they never understand. They call Wilbur insane, yet maybe he was the most sane of us all. He saw and understood the truth, and that scared them. So here’s what I offer you, Y/n. Help me take them down. I’ll pay you a good price.”

“What could you pay me that’s worth my time?” Y/n raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms.

Dream reached into his pocket, throwing a few netherite ingots and several diamonds onto the grass in front of her. Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, looking up at him. “There’s so much more where this came from. And better yet,” Dream tilted his head slightly as he held a bundle of fabric to her, the brown shades and patches so very familiar; Wilbur’s coat. “you can finish what Wilbur started.”

Y/n stared wordlessly at the piece of clothing held out in front of her, before closing her eyes.

“Wil?” Y/n wandered over to where Wilbur sat in the darkness of Pogtopia, the girl kneeling down next to him.

“Hey, Y/n/n.” He smiled tightly, sitting forwards. “What’s up?”

The girl smiled sadly. “I don’t know. I just... everything’s all wrong. I don’t know how to fix it.”

The man pondered her words, considering how the events of the next few days would play out. The heartache and betrayal.

It was no secret Wilbur and Y/n had been drifting apart. The lingering trauma of her torturous life in Manburg and the loss of her first two canon lives, him grieving the loss of his country. They were both hanging on by a thread, and comfort was hard to be sought between the two of them.

Wilbur knew he would die soon. He knew that the end of his story was approaching, but maybe, he could have one more sweet memory with the girl he had fallen helplessly in love with.

“Let’s go look at the stars.”

Y/n perked up, her featured contorted in surprise. “What?”

“Like we used to, by the river. Let’s go stargazing.” Wilbur stood, holding out his hand to help her up. The girl took it, the boy pulling her up to standing and intertwining his fingers in hers, pulling her through the ravine.

They trudged up the stone stairs and through the hidden doorway, out into the open air. Wilbur led Y/n into a clearing, where he shrugged off his jacket, laying it on the ground. He beckoned her over, the two laying on top of the fabric and staring up.

The sky was exceptionally clear that night, the stars glittering beautifully against a dark sky. Wilbur turned to watch Y/n stare up at the stars, noting her lips twitch softly as she began to list constellations under her breath. He took her hand once more, looking up at the stars.

That was the last moment they shared together before he died.

Y/n opened her eyes, looking up at Dream, who held out a hand to shake. She sheathed her sword, nodding slightly before taking the jacket and reaching her hand out, clasping his palm in a firm shake.

The man chuckled from behind his mask, stepping backwards. “You’ll be hearing from me. Goodbye, Y/n.” With that he left, the girl left standing alone on the riverbank. She stood still for a beat before bending down, moving the items to her inventory, shrugging on the trench coat, and turning back to the cottage.

It was nearly burnt to the ground at this rate, the flowers outside catching. Y/n swore for a moment she could see a glimpse of a tall boy in a yellow sweater in the flames, but brushed it off. She made the trek over to her horse, climbing onto the saddle.

She cast one more look at the remains of the cottage before cracking the reins, riding away.

It was time to finish what Wilbur had started.

a/n: i wrote this before the philza lore where wilbur fabricated history in the letters, so just assume that wilbur was truthful in these letters and y/n arrived directly before the duel and the betrayal.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Angela”

Summary: The cyberattacks haven’t stopped, and Y/N is struggling to make sense of them as she worries for her father, for herself, and for the future of the company; however, it’s nearly Halloween, and Angela has invited Elliot, Y/N, and Darlene to a costume party. For the first time, Y/N wonders if she’s really the only woman Elliot wants. 

A/N: I needed some time to process the end of Mr. Robot before this story would let me continue. I finally feel reenergized and ready to update regularly, MUCH in thanks to @alottanothing​ for prodding me along. This chapter wouldn’t exist without her, so thank you, my friend! 

Story Summary,  “The Server Room, Part I”,  “The Server Room, Part II”  “The Long Weekend, Part I”,  “The Long Weekend, Part II”,  “The Aftermath”,  “Undecided”,  **“Decided”,  “Spooked”,  **“Fourth of July, Part I”,  *”Fourth of July, Part II”,  *“Darlene”

Word Count: 5000

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley @hopplessdreamer @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall​

If you want added, removed, or if I’ve missed your request, let me know : )

Warnings: Mild sexual content/language, description of a panic attack, let me know if I missed something!

GIF: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r​

I couldn’t breathe.

I was too hot, way too hot.

Too hot. Too hot. Too hot.

My eyes shot open in the dark, and I clutched my chest as I felt the thudding of my heart against my fingertips. With a gasp, all traces of sleep were gone as I flung the covers off me with such force Elliot jumped awake.

I was already in the bathroom, pacing, my hand resting on my chest as I chanted the same thing in the same song-like cadence every time I had a panic attack.

“It’s alright, it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s okay—”

Elliot opened the door slowly, his eyes vigilant as he worked to figure out what was happening.

I took a few noisy breaths, in through my nose, out through my mouth, as my lips continued to recite that it was alright, it was okay.

Elliot approached me and when I didn’t bolt, he reached out to place his hand over mine. I knew he could feel the pounding of my heart, and I felt ashamed he was watching me fall apart.  

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice still raspy with sleep. “You’re okay.”

I couldn’t do anything other than stare at him, the hammering in my chest continuing as I took up my mantra again. Elliot’s lips moved along with the words, his eyes so focused on mine I couldn’t have diverted my gaze even if I wanted to.

“It’s alright,” Elliot said gently. “It’s okay.”

This time, I was able to nod. The thudding of my heart was subsiding, and my breathing was slowing, steadying in the now too-bright light of the bathroom while Elliot’s too-intense eyes bored into mine.

After a few more minutes, I found my voice.

“I’m okay—really, El. I’m sorry you had to see that.” I stepped back, embarrassment taking the place of panic.

But Elliot didn’t let me retreat; instead, he pulled me into his arms, his hand twisting into my messy hair as he held me tightly against his body.

I sighed and let him hug me as the last waves of panic subsided.

I shifted, still embarrassed, and Elliot relinquished his hold.

I glanced at his face and saw that it was filled with concern, but I needed to get out of the light and out from under his gaze.

“Back to bed,” I muttered, and Elliot followed me out of the bathroom, flicking off the light.

We settled into bed, and I pulled the comforter up to my neck as I faced away from him. I did back up enough to be touching him, just needing to feel he was there, but when I shivered, cold now that my body was returning to normal, he rolled onto his side so he could press against me and wrap his arm around my waist.  

“Please don’t feel ashamed,” Elliot whispered as he slid his arm up and over my chest, pulling me close. “You’ve seen me. . .”  

Elliot’s pause hung in the air and I didn’t say anything, afraid I’d start to cry.

“You’re still the strongest, best person I know.”

Well, that did it.

Hot tears fell down my cheek and across the bridge of my nose as I tried not to violently sob in the dark.

Elliot stayed quiet, his fingers twitching lightly over the skin on my chest as he held me.

“It’s the attacks,” I began, frustration mounting as I swiped at my face with the comforter. “If it had just been Colin, I think I would’ve made my peace with it and moved on. But it was Bill Baxstone and then Kurt Landley. I feel like someone close to us is trying to hurt my father—or me.”

“They were all bad people, Y/N. Don’t you think they deserved to be found out?”

“But who decided they were bad people?” I said, moving away from Elliot and rolling onto my back, swiping at the last of my tears. “Bill Baxstone raised millions of dollars to help during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina—he took me with him when his church went down to clean up. He held my hand, hugged me, when I stumbled across the month-old body of a little boy. Who decided money laundering was bad enough to erase every good deed he had ever done? I feel like someone’s playing god with other people’s lives—someone’s taking the grey and coloring it black. I—I can’t make sense of it.”

Elliot was silent for a long time as I continued to blink into the darkness, a sense of hopelessness settling over my chest and threatening to overwhelm me.

“What if Dad’s next? What if I’mnext?”

“You’re good people,” Elliot said softly.

My laughter was a bitter bark in the dark. “Sure—to you! Who knows how the hackers see us. Bill was a good person who did something stupid. If he’d been given the chance, I know he would’ve made reparations. He just did something really fuckingstupid. His entire family is devastated, horrified—once the media gets through with Bill, they’ll have to change their names.”

Elliot was quiet.

“I didn’t know you knew him so well.”

“Yeah, well, memories can’t be hacked. I’m sure the people that did this only saw what they wanted to see.”

“You have nothing to worry about. You work, every day, to protect your dad’s company, and by protecting his company, you’re protecting allthe people who work for him, especially the hardworking, average people who are just trying to survive.”

I looked over at Elliot in the dark, the outline of his face just visible thanks to the slight peek of the city lights that filtered in through a space in the blinds.

“I’m just another rich bitch who’s had life too easy. How long before they stop caring about anything other than people’s bank accounts? How long before they stop offering justification and just start fucking with anyone they want to fuck with?”

“They won’t—I mean, that’s not what drives black hats. You know that.”

“Why can’t you find them, Elliot?” I sighed, turning my eyes back to the ceiling. “If anyone could find them, it’s you.”  

“They don’t want to be found. Hackers leave a mark, something for attention because that’s what they all crave. This one—doesn’t leave anything.”

“I’ve checked myself. Again and again. Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Elliot repeated.

* * * * *

Halloween was fast approaching; it had been a warm October, and until today, the chill of fall had evaded the city. Walking into CIStech, I pulled my coat tighter as a gust of wind swept through the streets. I smiled as I thought about picking out some pumpkins and talking Elliot into carving them, maybe bribing him with the promise of sugar cookies.

I felt normal, happy again for the first time since the latest hacks. It had been quiet for well over a month, and I became convinced the hackers moved on. Analytically, I knew most black hats had short attention spans; the quicker they moved and the wider variety of targets they chose, the less likely they were to get caught by forming a predictable pattern.

Black hats, like the ones who tried to hack Dad’s company on the Fourth, were easy to catch. The perpetrators of the individual attacks were in an entirely different league and all I could hope was they lost interest.

My morning was filled with meetings, so when I finally had a minute to check my phone, I was happy to see Elliot had texted.

E: Angela is having a Halloween party. She wants to meet you. I’m sure we have Darlene to thank.

Y/N: Costumes?

E: Probably.

Y/N: Could be fun—What if I let you pick my outfit?

E: Ok

E: : )

I laughed, knowing that was about as flirty as Elliot got over text. I was intrigued, though. Between Darlene and Elliot, I heard enough about Angela to feel like I knew her.

Elliot and I mostly hung out with my friends and Darlene. I asked him once about his hesitancy when it came to spending time with Angela, but he never gave me a straight answer. I suspected it was because he didn’t like her boyfriend, and Darlene felt that was it, too.

I figured I’d find out soon enough, so my thoughts quickly returned to wondering about the costume Elliot would choose.

Never, even in my wildest imaginings, could I have guessed.

* * * * *

I adjusted my long, honey blonde wig, happy with how it fit so naturally. I spent far more than I should have on it, but I think it was due to the shock of Elliot’s request.

“I still can’t believe this is what you find sexy,” I said eyeing my bright red dress and adjusting the sleeves.

Elliot only hummed in response as he wrapped his arms around my waist and looked at us in the mirror over my shoulder. We both watched as his hands splayed across my stomach, flexing as they played with the silky fabric before moving up to cup my breasts.

I leaned into his body, smiling as I watched his black-clothed head turn toward my neck. He kissed the skin of my collar bone and made his way up my neck, slowly with torturous, tiny licks and nips.

My eyes slipped shut and I sighed, relaxing into his kisses. When Elliot’s name fell from my lips, that pulled a grin from his.

“Sexy,” he breathed, his mouth so close to my ear his voice made me shiver.

“Elliot. Stop teasing.”

“It won’t be teasing if we skip the party.”

Elliot’s teeth had captured my earlobe so I ground my ass into his crotch, delighted to feel his cock pressing into my backside.

“Definitely skipping,” Elliot mumbled just as the buzzer sounded.

“Darlene’s here,” I said taking a step forward and detangling myself from Elliot. “I’ll let her in while you—deflate.”

Elliot narrowed his eyes at me as I laughed, “You started it! Don’t look at me like that, farm boy.”

“As you wish,” Elliot quietly replied, a small smile on his face.  

I shook my head, knowing my grin was bordering on ridiculous as I walked out to buzz in Darlene, but who could have ever guessed Elliot Alderson considered The Princess Brideto be the perfect romantic film?

After Darlene knocked lightly on my door, I laughed with delight as I took in her costume. She was a dead ringer for Stevie Nicks.

“You look exactly like the goddess herself!”

“Too bad I can’t sing worth a shit.”

“You’d be too powerful, Dar. The universe just can’t allow it.”

Darlene fixed me with one of her wide smiles, and I offered to make her a drink before we set out.

“Oh, hell yes. Whatcha got, Buttercup?”

“Did you know this would be your brother’s idea of a sexy Halloween costume?” I asked over my shoulder as I pulled down a bottle of rum from the cupboard.

“I had a general idea, yeah,” she said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes and plopped ice into her glass and mine. Just as I was cracking open a can of Coke, Elliot came into the kitchen.

“Hey, Zorro,” Darlene deadpanned.

“Stevie Nicks?” Elliot replied with a quirk of his brow. “Predictable.”

“At least I’m not one half of a lame couple’s costume—no offense, Y/N.”

I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders as I finished pouring the soda before sliding Darlene’s drink across the counter.

“I’m amazed myself,” I replied as I moved to Elliot’s side and placed a kiss on the edge of his jaw near his ear. “But how sexy does he look as the Dread Pirate Roberts?”

“All black—huge leap for Elliot,” Darlene said, her eyes dancing over the rim of her glass as she took a long drink.

“Got some cocaine in your boot, Stevie?” Elliot shot back at his sister. “No suspension of disbelief required for you either.”

“Fight nice, children,” I said as I finished my drink much quicker than Darlene, suddenly realizing I was quite nervous to meet Angela.

“So where is this party?”

“Angela just moved into a place with her boyfriend. Gramercy Park, I think. Do you have the address, El?”

Elliot dug his phone out of his pocket and nodded after he scrolled through a few messages.

“Well, shall we?” I asked, watching as Darlene downed the last of her Rum and Coke.

“Let’s,” she said, adjusting her top hat.

I took a deep breath, and Elliot, sensing my nervousness reached out to take my hand.

“You have everything?” he asked, his eyes examining my face like they always did. Sometimes, I felt like he was reading me, scanning me like a barcode.  

“Yup—did you remember your mask?”

“I put it in your bag,” Elliot said as he handed it to me.

I smiled and moved to shrug into my backpack, but Elliot stopped me, his voice low as he said, “We really don’t have to go.”

“I want to,” I said earnestly. “I’m just a little nervous. Probably how you felt before meeting my friends. Plus, I’d never let this ‘lame’ couple’s costume go to waste.”

Elliot gave me a half-smile, “Darlene’s such a witch.”

“I heard that,” she called over her shoulder, causing me to laugh as I shut the door to my apartment.

* * * * *

Darlene was kind of right—I did feel a little lame with my modest costume as we walked up with a few people I assumed were also party guests. We were following a bouncy Playboy bunny and a rather risqué bee as we ascended the stairs, so when we were greeted by a very sexy angel who turned out to be the hostess, I wasn’t surprised.

“I should’ve known you’d eventually rope someone into playing the Buttercup to your Westley,” Angela said as she smiled and introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N,” I said with a wave, again wondering why I felt so damn nervous. I was confident, successful, attractive woman. What was it about Angela that made me feel—

“Heyyyy, Elli-man! It’s great to see you again, bro!” interrupted a boisterous devil who I assumed was the other half of Angela’s costume.

I cringed as Angela’s boyfriend thumped Elliot on the back and attempted to shake his hand. I watched, as if it were in slow motion, as Elliot took a full step back and almost knocked the bouncy Playboy bunny into the wall.

“Shit, dude. Forgot about that whole no-touching thing.”

Angela looked mortified, and yanked Ollie back, his beer sloshing over the side of the bottle.

“Ollie, this is Y/N. Elliot’s girlfriend.”

“I kinda thought you were a myth,” Ollie said, his grin reaching buffoon-like proportions. “Do you do the whole no-touching thing, too? Cuz I’m sure that would make for a—”

As my mouth dropped open, Angela interrupted who I could now definitely call her idiot boyfriend for the second time.

“Let’s get you some drinks,” she said, ushering us inside and leaving Ollie to greet the next batch of people.

“He’s pretty drunk,” Angela said by way of an apology as she glanced at me from under her long lashes.

I said nothing. I wasn’t about to make this easy on her since she just let her idiot boyfriend accost Elliot. Angela, of all people, should’ve made sure that hadn’t happened. All it took was one conversation with my family to make sure they didn’t make Elliot uncomfortable.

Angela weaved through her party guests and I glanced to see if Darlene was following, but she was long gone. Come to think of it, she ducked inside the apartment as soon as we arrived, completely avoiding Ollie.

Smart witch, I thought.  

I felt Elliot’s light touch on my lower back as we reached the kitchen. He seemed to be on high alert, and my gut told me it had more to do with Angela than with the throngs of people in her apartment.

“Beer’s iced in the sink. Mixers and liquor are on the counter. What can I get you guys to start?”

“Beer’s fine for me,” I said, and Elliot nodded.

Angela dipped through two girls, a slender black cat and a vibrant peacock, and returned with two, cold bottles.

“Thanks,” I said with a tentative smile. “Nice place!”

“It feels small with all the people, but it’s like a palace after my studio. Where do you live?”

“15 Cliff—in the Financial District,” I said.

“Well, I hope you spend more time there than Elliot’s place.”

“My place is a lot closer to CIStech, but El’s apartment is cozy.”

“CIStech. My boss, Gideon, who I love, talks about you guys from time to time. He’s really down with the business within a business model, but he’s also trying to make it independently. He’s got some great ideas—we just need to land a big fish.”

Elliot must have read something into what Angela said because he stepped closer and asked her who they had in mind.

“I’m not sure I should say,” she said with a quirk of her brow and a glance in my direction.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” I said, taking the hint and feeling relieved I could walk away.

“I’m glad you got him to come out,” Angela said, a genuine smile turning up the corners of her lips.

I glanced at Elliot, who, in a move that shocked both Angela and me, leaned over to press a soft kiss to my lips.

“She’s good for me,” he said, his voice just audible over the din of the party.

I gave his hand a squeeze before I shuffled out of the kitchen in search of Darlene.

I ended up bumping into a guy I knew from school and while we chatted about the smallness of the world, I glanced around for a hint of stark white next to a void of black.

Elliot and Angela had moved out of the kitchen and were talking in a recess of the narrow hallway. Elliot’s back was to me, but I could tell from the way Angela looked at him that their conversation was intense. After a few minutes, she rolled her eyes and took Elliot’s wrist, yanking him farther down the hallway and out of my line of sight.

“So, seriously—what’s it like dating Elliot?”

Ollie’s obnoxious voice yanked my attention away from the spot Elliot and Angela had just been occupying as effectively as if he had reached out and taken my wrist, too.

Fuck me, I thought as I took in his bleary eyes.  

As I fielded his questions and realized that Ollie talked far more than he listened, I focused on the feeling in my gut that had been preoccupying me all day. I wasn’t the jealous type—I always figured if I was with someone who wanted someone else then they weren’t worth my time.

Elliot was so complicated I just assumed I’d never have to worry. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would thrive off of juggling more than one girl at a time; in fact, I assumed his anxiety would eat him into an early grave if he ever got himself into a situation like that.

You know what they say about people who assume! my own anxiety cheerfully reminded me.

I returned my attention back to Ollie who was still talking about a party from his sophomore year of college and interrupted him.

“Have you seen Angela?”

“Huh? Oh, I haven’t in a while,” he said, his brow furrowing as he glanced around the room.

“She and Elliot must have gone off somewhere,” I suggested.

“Those two are kinda weird. Every time she’d hang with him, she’d come back all sad and mopey. I was glad when you came into the picture because they don’t talk as much.”

I looked at Ollie and the expression on my face must have prompted him to realize he’d said yet another stupid thing.

“Listen—I know how important Elliot is to her, childhood mom and dad death shit and whatever, but sometimes the past needs to just, like die, ya know?”

I figured my paranoia had gotten the best of me because what Angela’s idiot boyfriend said actually made sense.

“I think I do know what you mean, Ollie.”

“Cheers, babe! Let’s get you a refill,” Ollie said as he thunked his empty bottle against my own before leading me into the kitchen.

Four beers and a shot later, I was standing with Darlene, listening to her verbally eviscerate a cute guy who had made the mistake of saying that Flame was the best rootkit written in the past five years, when Elliot found us.

“Are we taking bets on when she makes this guy cry?” Elliot whispered, his breath disturbing the strands of my wig that hung around my ear.

I smiled and turned into Elliot’s body, leaning in to quietly reply, “I think he’s getting off on it.”

Elliot chuckled and joined the conversation, playing devil’s advocate until Darlene grew frustrated and snarled, “Who asked you anyway? Come on—let’s get me a drink,” she said as she pushed the cute guy toward the kitchen.

“Ready to go?” Elliot asked, his features schooled into a practiced indifference.

“Are you? You’re wearing that face I can’t read.”

Elliot’s lips quirked into a nanosecond smirk.

“Let’s go.”

“That’s better,” I said. “I should say goodbye to Angela and thank her for the invite.”

“She’s in the hall. We’ll catch her on the way out.”

Angela was preoccupied with a few people Elliot said were from Allsafe, the company she worked for, so we said a quick goodbye and made our way out to the street.

I took a deep breath and my body practically vibrated from the feel of having space to stretch without bumping into a body and from the chilly, fresh night-air.

“There’s nothing like space and cool air after escaping from a crowd,” I said as Elliot looked at me, his eyes filled with a happiness that only came when someone understood something that you thought only you understood.  

Elliot waved for a taxi after he assured me for the third time that Darlene would be fine. I sent her a text, just to be sure, and she replied immediately.

D: I’m fine MOM. Go home and bone DAD so he learns to have some fucking chill and not be such a dick when I’m working my mojo.  

Y/N: You two have very different ways of flirting lol—be safe! Text me in the am.

D: : )

As we slid into the taxi, I smiled at my phone thinking how alike and how very different Darlene and Elliot were.

“Where to?” the driver asked, his voice curt as he wondered just how drunk Elliot and I were considering our costumes.

I answered with Elliot’s address and the driver relaxed as he realized we weren’t shitfaced.

I quietly said to Elliot, “Figured you’d need to go home to your space after all of . . . that.”

“Thank you,” he answered just as quietly as he gave my knee a quick squeeze.

The rest of the cab ride was silent, which gave me time to consider how and where Elliot had spent most of the party. I did tell the driver to take us to Elliot’s because I knew he’d want to go home, but I also had an ulterior motive. I wanted him to be in his most secure place in the hopes he would be comfortable enough to answer the questions I had about Angela. Watching them interact and my conversation with Ollie did nothing but heighten that feeling in my gut.

As soon as we stopped in front of Elliot’s building, I slid out of the cab and let him pay the driver. I waited at the top of the stoop before following Elliot up to his apartment.

As soon as the door shut and I dropped my backpack onto the kitchen table, I spoke up.

“So . . . you and Angela?”

Elliot turned to look at me, his mouth dropping open a bit as he decided whether to reply or to wait for me to go on.

“You have history. That’s evident. I’m just curious about how much history you have . . . and if any of that history is not so . . . past tense.”

I couldn’t look at him when I said it, dropping my eyes and feeling ashamed for even implying he still had feelings for her. But I had to know.

God I didn’t want to know.

“Forget it,” I said quickly, opening Elliot’s drawer to yank out a t-shirt before I went into the bathroom and shut the door.

I pulled off my wig and relished in the feeling of shaking out my hair after it had been confined inside the wig cap.

I undressed, leaving my costume in a rumpled pool on the floor, and got ready for bed, slowly, hoping Elliot would be asleep or pretending to be asleep by the time I finished.  

I pulled my hair into a messy bun, unable to meet my own gaze in the bathroom mirror. My stomach was still clenched in a weighted ball of anxiety as I opened the bathroom door and sent one more prayer to the powers that be that he would be in bed.

No such luck.

Elliot was on his computer when I came out of the bathroom, and as soon as he heard the door open, he swung around and said, “Come here.”

He stood up and waited for me to find my feet. I took a deep breath and crossed the room, slowly sitting down in his computer chair. I turned to face the screen, wondering what it was he wanted to show me.

Elliot opened a file and a sweet picture of Darlene, Elliot, and Angela popped up. Elliot and Darlene were grinning widely as they each had just clearly smashed a piece of cake against Angela’s cheeks, her blonde hair clinging to her face in sticky strands, the smile on her face priceless. Despite my dread, I found myself smiling at little Elliot.

Elliot’s arms were around me on either side, one hand resting on the desk while the other clicked the mouse as he showed me more pictures. I watched the three of them age until there were just a series of pictures of Elliot and Angela that stopped on the day of their high school graduation.

“She’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember,” Elliot said quietly, his face next to mine, his eyes locked on the image in front of us.

“You love her,” I stated.

“I thought we’d never be separated, but she went to college in the city and I didn’t. She wanted to get out of Washington Township even more than I did.”

“Is that why you broke up?”

“Angela and I were never really together like that—like weare,” Elliot said as he closed out of the pictures and turned his monitor off.

He turned and faced his bed, leaning on the computer desk as I swung the chair around so I could look at him.

“You never dated?”

“Not . . . exactly.”

“You’re not making this very easy to understand.”

“I’m sorry—it’s hard to put a label on it. I don’t think I can.”

“Try.”

“We had sex, but it was more because I trusted her. And she trusted me. You get to a certain age. Everyone’s talking about it, so you just do it. And I thought, maybe that was all there was to it. That Angela and I would get married someday. That I could have a life with my best friend.”

“But?”

“Angela has a flaw. She never loves anyone who loves her. I knew that, and when I was young, I accepted that. I figured I could still be happy even if she never really loved me back—loved me like that, I mean.”

“What changed your mind?”

Elliot ran his hands through his flattened hair as he struggled to say something he knew was too heavy, too much of a burden to place on someone else.

“You did,” he said, still looking at his unmade bed.  

The weight of Elliot’s statement settled over me, the silence in his apartment feeling oppressive as I waited for him to continue.

“You loved me first. And after you knew me, after you knew my . . . abnormalities. I never thought anyone would love me first.”

Months ago, I had known Elliot would never be the one to admit his feelings first, but now I knew why—he had already been in love with me, but he didn’t want me to love him like Angela, to love him only because he loved me first.

He wanted—needed—to know I loved him all on my own, without obligation.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, determined not to cry as a desperate, emotional ache filled my chest.

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Elliot. Anyone who could see your heart, would love you.”  

“I don’t exactly make it easy.”

“True,” I said, finally drawing his eyes to meet mine as I smirked.

“I love you, Y/N,” Elliot said with such straightforwardness that the smile fell from my face. “Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I won’t,” I answered softly, rising from the chair to stand in front of him.

Elliot’s hands came to rest on my hips as I cupped his face, my thumbs lightly sliding over his cheekbones as we looked into each other’s eyes, both of our vulnerabilities laid bare.

A frantic, daunting thought flashed through my mind as I leaned in to kiss him and I wondered—no—somehow I knew the same thought flashed through Elliot’s:

Please don’t break my heart.

[aiiizawa]

Cecilia wondered if it was an extended, bad dream.  The sensation of falling all around them— the bright, blue sky being blinding with interspersed clouds of pure white and the blurry form of buildings flying past them.  They were no stranger to dreams about falling out of the sky, or some building.   Almost bored, they closed their eyes and tried to change the dream to something else, maybe even give themselves the ability to fly.  

…

……

………

That wasn’t working. 

In a flash, Cecilia opened their eyes and tried to look around.  How fast were they falling?  How close was the ground??  How could this happen when they lived on the GROUND FLOOR of a house with NO SECOND STORY— Cecilia was going to scream,definitely, but the sensation changed almost immediately.  What was once the rush of cold air flying behind them was now being shielded, and they gently opened one of their eyes hesitantly.

“Worry not, my young friend!!  I am here!!”

A booming, familiar voice.  This face…. Long, blonde hair…bright blue eyes nearly eclipsed by the strong bone structure of his face.

“ALL MIGHT?!”  The accusation came out faster than their brain could stop it.

“YES!””  His answer, brilliant and shining in the sun, took the wind out of them even further.  They stared up at him, mouth hanging agape as he deftly jumped with them to the ground.  Apparently, not the correct response, as he had a brief look of shock on his face, but it disappeared as fast as it came, so they chalked it up to the brightness of the sun around them and their imagination.  A small crowd had appeared around the two of them as All Might gently placed them onto the floor swiftly, placing both of his huge hands on their shoulders.

“Now, my young friend, as much as life may be hard for you-- or perhaps you were merely experimenting with your quirk-- You must value your life!!  It is not to be carelessly thrown away!”  He enunciated these words firmly, eyes boring into theirs as they blinked.  There was a misunderstanding somewhere there, definitely, but they couldn’t seem to find a moment to interject as he continued his well-meaning lecture.  More than likely, they were in a bit of shock.  First of all…that was All Might.  ‘That’ All Might.  The world’s greatest hero, the symbol of peace.... That is, in their favorite shounen manga.  Undeniably, they could feel his hand on their shoulder and his finger wag as he continued, and the way their neck hurt from attempting to look up to him.  Slowly, they tried to look around themselves.  Aside from All Might (surprisingly in his normal clothes), there were several heroes hovering nearby...even some in the sky.  They could read advertisements on the various buildings and hear the speakers announce clearly.

‘Be Free to Be You-- Unique Styles for your Unique Body Type.’

‘QUIRKS ARE DEVELOPING SOONER THAN YOU THINK.  IF YOUR CHILD SHOWS SIGNS OF DEVELOPING THEIR QUIRK, DON’T BE LEFT BEHIND.  QUIRK COUNSELORS IN YOUR AREA ARE SPECIALLY TRAINED TO MAKE SURE THAT YOUR CHILD CAN GO BEYOND’

‘Attention: those trying to commute to the 4th Ward on the train should make alternative arrangements as a recent villain attack has left the tracks unable to be used.  For the time being--’

As their gaze flickered between the various sights, oblivious to the world around them, All Might continued.  “If you have any other problems, please do not hesitate to take advantage of this country’s mental health services!   You have your whole future before you!  Go beyond!!  Plus Ultra!!”  He took a step back, saluted, and went to leap away.

Away.

Hold on--

“W-W-WAIT, DON’T G--”  Cecilia, finally realizing that he would be their best bet to understand things, reached out to stop him, hand outstretched.

“HA HA HA!!  DO TAKE CARE!!”  In a flash that was more powerful than they had thought, even when he had just saved him, he was gone.  Well, fuck.  Cecilia was frozen in place for just a moment, and then turned their attention to the crowd around them that was already dissipating since the attraction, All Might, had just vanished.  A couple of well-meaning people approached, asking if they needed help to a hospital, to which they firmly denied.  An embarrassed flush came to their face, so they bowed quickly and dodged them, walking in a random direction to make more sense of their bearings.  As soon as they had managed to filter in through the crowd and walk a little bit, Cecilia leaned up against the wall in a nearby alleyway.  

First things first, they needed to take stock of what they had on them.  Thankfully, they weren’t in their pajamas or anything...a blessing, since the last thing they remembered was crawling into bed at a late hour.  Simple pair of jeans (with pockets!  That was epic.) and a comfortable shirt that they recognized from their closet that had flowers decorating the front.  Worn tennis shoes, and...they patted their back pocket firmly.  Yes.  Quickly pulling out their phone, they hoped they’d have some information.  However, quickly running through their phone, it was clear it wasn’t the case.  No apps, except for an unnamed app that resembled the original internet browser and the notepad.  They didn’t think it was possible to have a phone like this; they never messed with it in this fashion.  At first, the thought did come across that perhaps their phone had been switched, but the telltale crack in the screen protector…the case and phone holder that they chose specifically together...there was no way it wasn’t their phone.  Idly, they tried to open the browser, but even then...nothing. ‘BAD GATEWAY’ was written in bold, dark letters each time they tried to reset.  Heaving a sigh, they decided to shove it back into their pocket rather than waste anymore battery.  For now, they’d just have to keep it in case something DID work.  Now...to figure out what to do now.  They didn’t have their purse, so it wasn’t like they could go anywhere with no money or identification.  Even if they did...the currency was a problem.  Cecilia debated about sitting down and just going ‘fuck it’, but in the end, decided on a random direction and started walking.

Even if the circumstances were the absolute worst, they’d always wanted to go to Japan, so they at least took in the sights.  It was really neat, especially with quirks everywhere, it was hard not to stare.  Naturally colored hair in so many fun colors...they frowned briefly at their reflection.  Would it have been too much to ask for some fucking pink hair without effort?  Everything else was the same.

“Um, excuse me…?  Are you alright?”  A young voice called out to them, and they swiftly turned on their heel to answer.

“Ah, yeah-- I’m fine, sorry, I’ll move.”  Cecilia bowed quickly and shuffled to the side.  The young man put his hands out in refusal.

“Oh no!  I just...recognized you from the article.  You just got rescued by All Might, right?  I saw you wandering around and-- Not that I was stalking or following you or anything!!  But you seemed confused and I wanted to know if you needed help to the hospital or anything--”  He stammered as Cecilia stared at him.

Green hair.  Not just any green hair, a very special, curly head of green hair…and freckles…

Wait a minute--  Cecilia recognized him immediately.  It took a minute because he wasn’t in the U.A. uniform, but that couldn’t have been anyone but Izuku Midoriya.  Looking down at his black gakuran, could it be?  Putting the clues from All Might’s appearance earlier, they must have been put in the very beginning of the story.  Made sense.  However…

Cecilia blinked.  If he was right here and wanted to take them to the hospital…he wouldn’t have his interaction with the sludge villain that let him meet All Might.  The thought sent a chill down their spine.  Absolutely fucked, they couldn’t let that happen.  Cecilia needed a plan, fast, and thankfully, there was always ol’ reliable.

Lying.

“Hey, you’re, uhhhhh, Midoriya-kun?  Yes?”  They asked him, tilting their head slightly.  Midoriya blinked rapidly in shock, round eyes widening.

“H-Huh?  How do you know my name?”  He asked incredulously.  He looked a little bit suspicious, but more shocked than anything else.

“I live in your apartment complex!  I’m really new, both to this country and to the city;”  Not a lie.  Technically.  “I didn’t recognize you until just now!   Unfortunately, you’re right.  I am a bit lost, but I just wanted to get home.  Would you mind walking me there?”  They flashed him their best smile, putting forth what they hoped was a trustworthy and slightly embarrassed face.  He thought for a moment, and then immediately nodded.

“O-Oh!  Of course!  I had heard that someone had moved in earlier, what a coincidence!”  He laughed brightly, bowing.  “I’m Izuku Midoriya.  I live with my mother-- Well, you probably already met her already if you know me.”  He stuck his hand out with a friendly smile and they grinned and introduced themselves as they shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Midoriya-kun.”  Cecilia smiled, nodding once and then returning their hands to their pockets.  “Lead the way, sir.”

They felt a little bit bad that they were having a child lead them into what they fully knew was danger on a full and blatant lie...but that would be a problem for Midoriya after he had his fated encounter with All Might.  After that...it’d be fine.

Probably.  He was a forgiving child.

“So you just graduated middle school, huh?  Wow, you must be really excited to start high school.  What school are you aiming for?”  They asked conversationally as they walked.  For the most part, even though he was TERRIBLY shy and only called them by their last name despite asking for him not to, he was pretty talkative.  

“I-- I want to go to U.A!  It might be silly of me, especially after everything that happened today, but…”  he sighed.  “It’s all I want to do, even though I’m quirkless.”  Cecilia nodded along.

“Of course, of course.  I get you, Midoriya-kun.  Don’t worry.  I know you’re gonna be a great hero, no matter what.  After all, you saw me lost and approached me.  The kind of person who can’t leave troubled people alone, I think, is a good candidate for a hero.”

They might have been a little biased, though.  He grinned bashfully, happy to be praised by an adult.  “Thank you, Love-san.  I really appreciate that…”  He scratched behind his neck.  “I’ve been feeling really discouraged recently, so thank you for believing in me, even though we’ve just met.”

Oops.  Cecilia laughed it off nervously.  “Well, you know, I’m an American.  We tend to say whatever’s on our mind!”  At that, they launched into a discussion (read: Midoriya infodumping) about All Might’s time in America.  It was very informative, even though it was hard for them to understand a lot of it with how fast he was speaking.  Mostly, he seemed content to have someone listen to him, so they did just that and tried to keep watch on where the sludge villain would finally come.  After the fourth underpass they walked under, they were starting to wonder if maybe their appearance had fucked up the timeline.  Taking a quick minute, they rubbed their temple gently.

Noticing they stopped, Midoriya turned and looked back concernedly.  They opened their eyes to tell him it was nothing, but stopped, suddenly making eye contact with the grate bubbling at their feet.

“Love-san...?”  He asked.  His eyes were so wide, and then, the manhole cover seemed to explode. A disgusting, creeping feeling crawled up their leg.

“Two disguises?  What a wonderful day I’m having, especially after having just run into that man here…”  Disgusting, cold, sticky.  They tried to kick him off but it was no use.  Midoriya ran running to their aid, even as he was also being ‘tried on for size.’

“You’re a little too short, so I don’t think I’ll bother with you...but I can’t have you running off to the cops.”  The viscous, amorphous fluid flowed freely into their mouth, leaving a rancid taste behind.  At this point, they couldn’t even see Midoriya, who was still trying desperately to save them even as his own airway was being blocked.

Maybe it was their karma for lying to him and getting him to follow them?  That sure would be a kick in the head.  Even with their eyes closed, a deeper, darker blackness was coming over them.  They hoped All Might would come here soon, damn it…They didn’t want to die for nothing.

“Have no fear, my boy!”

That voice, once again.  All of a sudden, a huge, unrelenting pressure from a different direction that seemed to force the villain out of their body.  As they sunk to their knees, and then flat on their face, they just barely saw him do the same to Midoriya.  Cecilia had just one thought.

Fucking finally.

It had been a hell of a day.

[ellyisaslygirl]

I saw that your requestings are open, this is actually the first time i request something and i want to say that your writing is really good!! 😊Can you make a fic about that Draco is really mean to the reader and he finds out that they are soulmates. So he is a bit neutral to them and eventually not bullying anymore and tell the reader the truth about finding out, but the reader doesn't forgive him for what he did to the reader and their friends and if u want make them a hufflepuff Thank u💕💕

“Oh My!” Y/N gasped looking at her friends’ face. There were building boils on her face and she looked around her friends and then just looked down at poor F/N.

“Let me guess, Malfoy?”

They nodded and that’s when Y/N stormed past her group of friends. Surely, they can take care of F/N. Y/N wasn’t paying attention when Goyle suddenly tackled her to the ground. It felt like her bones were going to break. “GOYLE FUCK OFF ME!” She winced, trying to push him off as she couldn’t breathe.

“Goyle, how many times must I tell you? That’s not how you take control over women.” You knew who said those sickening words. But Goyle got off, making her able to stand on her own two feet. “Why did you do that to my friends?”

“Ha!” he chuckled and stick his tongue out in  the lower level of his mouth. “How could I have not? They’re a disgrace.” He said disgrace with an almost drawled out ‘s’. “Just because they’re not pure-bloods?!” She was about to lose it. Neither of his friends knew what to do when she tackled him, but he already saw it coming and pushed her against the wall.

“Boys, out!” He commanded and they scurried away.

His face harden, his nose shaping slender but his nostrils flared. “L/N, I swear-” He looked over at her left wrist and saw that they had the same freckle on the same place, color, and size. He knew what it meant. He quickly let go of her.

“I must go.” he straightened his collar, letting go of her and strutted away from the corrirdor, leaving Y/N confused.

Days passed, Y/N was in H/H(Hogwarts House) but she couldn’t help every once in a while looking at her briefly and then looking away. “What’s been up with Malfoy?’ your other friend Charlotte asked, her honey blonde waves shining even more. :I don’t know, actually. I would’ve thought he’d try something with you guys again or use Snake Spawn soap.” Y/N shuddered, but her friend, Natalie looked at her. “He did succeed. Did you not see my face? Girl.” she waved her hand before eating her biscuit.

Why was he treating her like this? What did he know that she didn’t?

Everyone was in the common room. Your friends by the round table, away from the popular house-mates. “It’s gotten worse.” Y/n said, bringing her school bag to the floor.

“How so?” Nat askeed.

“We were in Herbology. He didn’t throw dirt, mess with my plants, or do whatever he usually does.” Her friends had their jaw lowered and then they screamed, jumping up and down , even though they were sitting down. They were receiving looks at the other people, but they didn’t care.

Y/N cringed and covered her ears for a moment. “W-what? What are you guys freaking out about?”

“HE LIKES YOU!”

Y/N’s abruptly stood from the chair and clenched her fist. “He does not! Now! No more of this nonsense.” She grabbed her books and ascended to the dorm.

She quickly took her clothes off and into her night ones. She plopped onto the bed. At this point, she didn’t know what to do. And even if that slimy rich boy who thinks he’s God did like her, she would not forgive him.

Those four of her friends were all she had left and she didn’t want to lose any of them, even if it was just a stupid prank that he pulled on them. ....something bad could’ve happened.

Those were the thoughts that carried her into a a tossy-turny- kick sheets off the bed type of sleep.

The next morning was hard to deal with. It was like she was overly tired and kept knocking into people, constantly whispering apologies. It wasn’t until she hit someone, but her eye sight was blinded by the sun. “Hey, Watch it!” shit.

She recognized that voice, but that part didn’t matter. As he poked her, he looked straight into her eyes and vice versa. Images full of color, and bright. Quick flashes of what seemed to be the ‘future’ were filled with them. A dance of in one’s dorm. Them smiling, playing games together, him showing her how to ride a broom better, and then there was some that had shown them sneaking after Hogwarts even though it didn’t look like it anymore. Something bad happened.

Suddenly, they snapped out of it. “MALFOY!?’ his friends called him. Draco looked at Y/N. He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say.

:What, Y/N?”

“I know you saw it.”

“Saw what?” he rolled his eyes, “I have to get to class.”

“This isn’t over!” She shouted. Her heart was racing, there was no way she was going to classes today. She didn’t give much care enough for them. She was going to have to do something. But it wouldn’t under she was thrown into a broom closet. “Lumos.” the person said and then Draco’s face lit up.

“What the actual fuck are you trying to do to me, you git?’ He rolled his eyes and kisses her, she squirmed, but he kept a firm grip on her. Images came back, it was like filtered hazy, but it was a dark time, like as a next part to the destroyed Hogwarts, he had a mark, one she couldn’t recognize on his wrist like a tattoo, him being overly protective of her, ring, small footprints like a baby on the sandy beach her dad took her to when she was younger.but in the mixture, was a set of  intensity, like no one could hurt her as long as he was close, her heart was racing, it felt so warm and comforting. Safety. She felt like she could never let him go and more flashes went by, but she couldn’t pay attention to them as she was now more focused on his lips.

She never thought she was going to kiss him. Especially recently. What was she doing!? He finally pulled back, “Do you not get it?’ he asked, staring down at her face. “What the hell are you doing to me? What was that?” she was frantic but he covered her moth with his hands.

“We’re soulmates. “ He deadpanned and her eyes widened, swiping his hands off her mouth. “That’s rubbish! Me-you-us-soulmates!? Please.” she rolled her eyes. “I think what’s happened the last few days says enough. I was even able to get inside your head...so I know what you think of me....if you were stronger you could read mine.”

So, they were soulmates. Y/N was still pissed off though, she shook her head, biting her lip. “I can never be soulmates who hurt my friends.”

“Would you let that go!?” he asked, going over to touch her.

“No, Malfoy! I will not.” He gripped her hand and her vision went blurry, but she pushed him away. “Okay, we are, but no. Unlike you I care about my friends!” She rushed and ran as fast so, Malfoy couldn’t chase her and she went down to her dorm with tears in her eyes and denial in her mind

[mixedl]

Choc n’ Chill

pairing⇸ jimin/reader

word count⇸ 3.3k

genre⇸ fluff

warnings⇸ tooth-rotting FLUFF (a lot), v mild swearing

notes⇸ this fic is for to the cutie @joonminnies​ as part of @bangtan-bookclub​‘s Christmas fic exchange!! I hope you have a wonderful holiday!! and merry (late?) Christmas!!! hope you enjoy this fic!!💓

also HUGE thanks to the LOML and the most amazing person on this planet @dayinseoul​!! thank you so much for helping me with editing, ideas, and rooting for me thru everything💕💕this fic wouldn’t be here without you 

you can find my masterlist link in my bio! 

prompts⇸ extra prompts used from writersblockbecomesunblocked and elektrxnacho (will add links when they’re fixed, forgive me)

You and Jimin hated each other. Well, at least that's what your friends thought. It was a rumor that started right after the day you both had an argument about your preferred choice of pet, cats or dogs, and which was better. You both were too stubborn to let go of it, resulting in a heavy refusal to exchange any form of verbal communication for a couple of weeks. Okay, perhaps it was a bit too much on both your parts, but you still couldn't look him in the eye after he had boldly stated that dogs were better than cats. Your firm belief in equal treatment to the gorgeous creatures was hurt, alright?

Namjoon, Jimin's roommate, trusty best friend, and the only person who knew that Jimin actually liked you, wasn't capable of consoling Jimin after the argument. He was well aware of how his friend had developed a crush right after he had been introduced to you―approximately a week before the argument―but was surprised by his mischievous friend, who wasn't one bit bothered by the fact that you probably hated his guts now.

"Hate is a strong word." Namjoon had scolded.

"I know, but hey, at least she knows my name." He sprawled himself on the couch, arms bent behind his head, and turned to face him with a wicked smile.

"What are you up to?" Namjoon asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Jimin only continued smiling that same troublesome smile, and stretched his limbs before quietly humming, "Hmm, nothing."

Namjoon knew he was lying.

Jimin began annoying you every second he could get.

It was in the small things, whenever you were all gathered together with a few more of your friends, Jimin's sole mission was to tease, taunt, or provoke you one way or another. You became aware of his stunts after a while, and you were half certain that the reason he did it so much was to get back at you. A lot of those days, when he'd relentlessly tease you throughout a whole sitting, you'd end up going going home either with flushed cheeks or with a pout on your lips, and you'd be thinking of him while you were closing the door to whatever place you'd just left from with your friends. Recently, you even started remembering him before you went to sleep. With the simple knowledge that you'll be seeing him the next day, you would stay up late plotting possible witty remarks you could throw back at him, or ways you could ignore him without giving in to the urge of pulling the roots of his overly soft hair out. You'd lost a lot more hours of sleep than one should over such a thing, and you should've been a lot more well rested on those night, but your pride couldn't simply allow you to be so.

By the middle of December, the air was already becoming bitingly cold, and so you ended up in a small coffee shop, one you frequented for the delicious hot chocolate they sold. However, a few of your friends were missing. Only you, Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok―who you had bullied into joining you―were there, since most had packed schedules, busy and rushed in an attempt to finish by the time the holidays rolled in. Jimin and Hoseok were pressed to your sides while Namjoon went up to get your drinks. 

You adored this place for the awful lot of times you've spent just staring at the decorations, it always surrounded you with the aura of a new home―one you had only recently moved into but know you'll be making so many beautiful memories in. Usually, the bright yellows and greens, pots and cups and napkins the colors of spring, perhaps the start of summer, was what made you imagine it that way, but what made it all the more special was the soft lighting that filtered through the windows in the mornings, or the artificial soft lights at night. This time, however, the place looked completely different, fairy lights lining different walls and a miniature Christmas tree decorated from trunk to leaf, the temperature was raised as well, and though some would complain from the suffocating heat, you were too busy staring at the twinkling lights to pay attention to anything else. It had always helped keep you at ease, and this was no exception. You easily slid into the path of daydreams as well, and you'd dream, dream, dream...

"Are you still coming to the ski resort?"

That question came from Jimin, and you abruptly snapped from your reverie to face him, slightly surprised by his gentle tone, a contrast to the mocking one he used sometimes. The question took a few seconds to register. "Uh... yeah, are you?"

Deep down, there was a part of you that truly hoped he would. Hoseok had suggested a trip to a ski resort a few day back, scheduled for both Christmas Eve and Christmas, and since not everyone could attend―some needed to go back home to their families―it wouldn't be as fun if Jimin didn't as well. Despite being a pain in the ass sometimes, he was still a big bag of joy, and was capable of creating an exciting mood to any trip you went to. Always knowing how to make people have fun, always knowing how to tease you just right. Though you would never admit it to yourself, or to anyone really, you really didn't mind any of his parodies or jokes. Sure you were confused at first, but you've come to like and even look forward to them, your grumpy soul was glad for the change.

He beamed, and smiled one of those smiles that blinded any onlooker before going, "Of course I am, who else would be there to annoy you if I don't go?"

You smacked your head on the table, Hoseok laughed at you both.

  ·  ·   ✵  ·  .  ˚

Jimin was crying.

At least that's what the pout on his full lips and the redness in his eyes indicated. Namjoon stared at the sullen boy with slumped shoulders in his doorway for a few more seconds before he shook his head and waved him over. He hadn't seen his roommate in a few hours, and perhaps that was the reason he wasn't surprised to see him with sunken red eyes and with his bottom lip jutted out. "What is it?" he question, rolling his eyes when Jimin just whined and dragged his feet into the bedroom, settling into a fetal position, head on Namjoon's lap.

Namjoon wanted to scold him for ruining his reading position and interrupting a climax part in the book, but he was only capable of signing and patting him on the head while his sulky friend stuffed his face in his shirt. "We're going skiing tomorrow."

"So? I thought you were excited about that, you were going on and on about it yesterday."

Jimin whined again, his voice muffled by the fabric of Namjoon's shirt. "But Namjoon." He raised an eyebrow at the younger, chooing to ignore the dropped formalities. "I'm fucking nervous."

His older friend had figured as much, he just didn't think he'd act on it. "What is it now, did she post a new picture?" he continued running a hand through his hair, and took note of Jimin's face gradually parting from his abdomen, "It's worse," Jimin sniffled, and oh God was he going to regret saying this, "I've been watching cat videos for four hours now," his bottom lip quivered. "As well as dog videos." His face returned to its place of security, away from Namjoon's judging eyes.

"Ah," his friend let out. "You're in too deep huh?"

Namjoon was glad he had actually used his reflexes for once, narrowly avoiding Jimin's forehead smacking into his chin as he got up. "Fuck you, hyung," he cried. 

"Don't worry Chim," he smiled, dimples on full display. He ruffled his friend's hair like a stubborn puppy’s, "You'll be okay."

"But she hates me."

"She doesn't."

“She does.”

"If she did, she wouldn't have agreed to sharing a cabin with you." Namjoon scolded, Jimin only grimaced.

"That's because it was the only one left." He excused.

"Well," Namjoon began, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making his friend groan in annoyance, "At least you'll get to have a normal conversation with her." Jimin looked up at his friend at that, silent in thought, Namjoon thought he saw a little bit of a hopeful glint in his eye, but it was gone when Jimin threw his head back, body following immediately and laying on the bed, a loud yell of frustration sounding from his lips.

"That's if she even wants to have a conversation with me," he kicked the other with his feet. "She’ll probably ignore me until this whole trip is done and over with." He shut his eyes tightly, wishing to disappear from the face of earth.

"Come on man, don't be like that," Namjoon nudged him. "You know ___ isn't that mean."

"Then she'll talk to me out of pity."

Namjoon sighed. "You're really stubborn you know? Just be yourself, or however you're like when you're flustered as fuck around her." He waved his hands dismissively and picked up his book again, returning to the page he stopped at. "At least if she's going to talk to you, no matter the reason, she'll be talking to the real you." He eyed Jimin, who was then looking at him, hands fiddling with his own fingers, bottom lip between his teeth.

"Which is a lovesick, dumbstruck fool who can't display feelings for shit." That earned him a smack in the face with his own pillow, but Jimin was smiling, and Namjoon was pleased with that.

  ·  ·   ✵  ·  .  ˚

You reached a hand out to allow falling snowflakes to sit on your gloved palm, and watched in awe as it was briskly filled with them, making them look like a tiny constellation against the black material. You smiled fondly as you turned to Jimin, who was walking alongside you on the snowy path, and saw him already looking, an unreadable expression adorning his face. It was gone in seconds when you wiped your hand on his jacket, making the collected snow on both your hand and his jacket turn liquid, and shot him a grin before turning away again and speeding your pace. 

You heard him groan in annoyance, a sound that satiated the part of you that wanted vengeance. He widened his steps to catch up to you. The pathways surrounding the resort were quiet and empty, and the sun was already dipping underneath the horizon, gloomy clouds pinned high on darkening skies. Everyone was probably preparing for Christmas Eve, for some of the paths you both went by were dimly lit by decorative lights hung discreetly between window shops, and the swarm of people you had seen in the morning had vanished into only two people with feelings hung on an invisible string, walking side by side towards another coffee shop in hopes of finding sickly sweet hot chocolate to sate your desire for the perfect evening. 

Once you had suggested spending the night watching Christmas movies and drinking hot chocolate to Jimin, he had given you a smug look. "You wanna...hot chocolate and chill?" he asked. He was glad the daggers you shot with your eyes was your only form of defense with the litter of people surrounding you. It also meant he couldn't argue―not that he wanted to anyway―and followed you to your destination.

The cold air touching the part of your cheeks not covered by scarves had you both thinking of the previous events of the day as well. Jimin's mind was running, trying to chase the memories and stash them in envelopes so he could never forget them. This day was a beautiful one, he especially wanted to remember the way you looked with white flakes gracing the top of your head like a crown, if only they were to sparkle, you'd have looked more like an angel than you already did. He tugged at his hat to further cover his crimson ears.

As for your mind, oh your mind, it was an absolute mess. A confused, giddy, stunned mess. The day had brought a lot more exchanges of speech between the both of you than you had expected. A lot of it was initiated by you too, since you had found yourself incapable of stopping yourself from sharing tiny jokes whenever you found something even slightly amusing, or from making small comments on the funny way he looked in ski goggles. It was quite the more striking that he hadn't ignored you or completely disregarded you. Instead, he would giggle and start a conversation with you, leaving your heart stumped and beating a little too fast. You weren't sure whether those quick beats were caused by all the laughter or by something completely different.

The jingle of bells sounding from the door you pushed open grounded you both back to reality, warmth immediately flooding your bodies and giving you enough time to push all thoughts to the back of your heads. 

As you ordered your drinks and asked for a few extra bags of cocoa to make more in case you ran out, Jimin stood by the side and watched as the speed of falling snow increased, quick winds trashing the white flakes all around. "Uhh, ___?"

You picked up a bag while Jimin handled the other, distracted until you finally looked at the apologetic look on his face. "What is it?"

He pointed at the window behind him. "Looks like it'll be storming tonight."

You looked at where his fingers led, and your eyes widened at the sight of furious snow, the amount pouring doubled from what you've last seen and still increasing. "Oh..." your voice drifted off.

Jimin glanced back one more time at the window before sidestepping, blocking your vision. A telling, mischievous smirk pulled across his face and you rolled your eyes in preparation for the stupid idea he was definitely about to suggest. "You ever wanted to become a snowman?"

  ·  ·   ✵  ·  .  ˚

A loud yell sounded from your lips as you closed the door, Jimin was laughing at your frazzled state. As he hurriedly closed the door to the cabin, you checked the bag you were just running with for any leaks, and whooped when you found none. 

"I'M NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN!" You cried as you placed the cups on the kitchen counter, and listened to the euphoric laugh of the boy with flushed cheeks standing with his back to the door, dripping ice all over the floor.

  ·  ·   ✵  ·  .  ˚

Jimin sighed in relief when he finally saw a small flame dance between the wood. He looked back at the sound of nearing footsteps. The source―you―was dragging a huge blanket to the floor where he was crouched. The cups of hot chocolate were cooling off on his side. "Oh hey, you finally got it to work!" 

"Were you expecting me not to?" 

"Honestly, yeah, but you did a good job." You tugged the blanket closer around you. "At least we won't freeze to death."

You and Jimin had spent the night watching cheesy Christmas films, huddled closer than usual and drinking an unhealthy amount of hot chocolate. The evening was well spent, and it was as calm as you had imagined it to be. At least, as calm as it could get with Jimin making fun of your life choices. 

"This hot chocolate and chill thing isn't so bad, huh?"

"If you say that one more time, I will dump hot chocolate on you."

After a few hours, you had been cursing Netflix for taking so long to display yet another movie on your device when the power suddenly went out. Jimin had asked if you were a witch, and you had wished you were if it meant being capable of cursing him. 

The fireplace was fully lit, and it flooded the small room with a soft glow. You both shifted closer to the flames, willing some warmth into your skin. A few silent beats passed.

"I'm cold, can you cuddle with me?" 

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "No."

"Can I aggressively steal your warmth?" 

"Maybe."

"Is that a yes?"

"That's a maybe." Then you were giggling. A soft sound that Jimin was certain he couldn't get enough of. He couldn't get himself to look away from you, either. His heart was racing and the soft glow of the ardent flames dancing on your skin and on your eyes wasn't helping. The silence that fell after your words prompted you to look up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the look in his eyes. Embarrassed, you stumbled to break the silence.

"Why are you staring?" you huffed. "Is something on my face?"

"Not me." He mumbled. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I―I asked you if you wanted another hot chocolate, nerd." He didn't wait for your answer though, and grabbed your empty cup anyway. 

"Um.. yeah?" Came your belated answer, and you weren't sure if he had heard you, because he was already in the kitchen. You dragged your feet and followed him inside, keeping a small distance between you and his back, watching as the muscles moved with each stir of his arms. You caught yourself on the brink of unholy thoughts, and blinked twice before registering that information.

Do you... like him?

Alarms blared in your head signalling your slow breakthrough. You think you like him. You likely like him. You most likely like him. How else would you explain the unstoppable rush of emotions every time you talked to him, or the sudden urges of squishing his cheeks with your hands whenever he smiled? Weren't you supposed to hate each other? Be at each other's throats?

You look at the back of his neck, maybe not. 

A small glimmer on the peripheral of your vision distracted you, the clock hanging on the wall by his head was frozen, minutes stuck a few before midnight. You could barely make it out in the dull light. However, an idea popped in your head, an inquisitive curiosity encouraging it. "What's the one thing you wish for this Christmas?"

You heard a light chuckle. "Well-," he turned around, a cheeky reply on the tip of his tongue, but it slid right off when he locked eyes with you, his heart skipping a beat or two. "...you." He whispered.

Jimin was rooted in place, and was cursing himself to hell and back for the slip of tongue. Of all things he could've said... You pushed yourself one step forward. Your heart was drumming in your ears. His eyes widened and his lips parted.

"I think that could be arranged." You sheepishly grinned, heart fluttering at the endearing sight he made. The wind whistled outside, and you watched his features turn from ones of confusion to those of realization. Another step forward, his face was inches away from yours. 

"Weren't you supposed to hate me?" he asked, eyes searching yours for any traces of hesitation. Two palms against his cheeks and a tentative press of lips against his was what he received. 

"Does that answer your question?" you whispered, thumb moving absently on his skin, mouth only a breath away from his. 

Jimin’s warm hands were on your waist in an instant, and he closed his eyes as he pressed a firmer kiss to your lips. The euphoric rush from his retaliation was enough to give you the confidence to press closer to him.

"Maybe.” He mumbled against your lips. “Could convince me with a few more of those?” It came out sounding like a question, and another kiss was your form of an answer. 

“Like this one?” You hummed, tasting chocolate on your tongue.

“Precisely,” he grinned. “Precisely like that one.”

[spidergwenstefani]

these are some bits of silly AUs I’ve been working on. The first one is a police procedural Brooklyn Nine Nine type thing where Clint is an NYPD detective and Bucky is an FBI agent. The second is a summer camp AU that’s very very far from done.

“Detective Barton,” Bobbi says coldly. Clint does a little hop backward in the middle of the hallway, circling back behind Bucky like Bobbi might actually bite his head off.

“Agent Morse,” he says, offering a friendly smile over Bucky’s shoulder. Natasha gives an amused snort.

“The dreaded ex,” she says in response to Bucky’s look of confusion.

“What?”

“It was the nineties,” Clint mutters behind him. “We were young and stupid, and we had just passed the Law Enforcement Entrance Exam. Also, it was Vegas.”

[FLASHBACK]

Light filters through the cheap plastic blinds of the Las Vegas motel, throwing stripes of gold across Bobbi’s face. She blinks awake, brushing her glamorous, pin-straight hair out of her eyes. The sheets rustle as she sits up in bed, stretching like a cat and basking in the new daylight.

It’s a beautiful morning. She reaches the full seven inches between the bed and the window to open up the blinds, letting the sunlight stream in. She can almost pretend the tinny “Genie in a Bottle” ringtone blasting from Clint’s flip phone is birdsong.

“What the fuck,” Clint croaks, fumbling on his side table to shut off the alarm. Bobbi stares openly at his broad, muscled back. She can’t remember much of last night. Even the chapel is a distant haze, but Clint seems to have shed his shirt in the night. Bobbi’s still fully dressed, which is odd. “Oh god,” Clint hisses, hiding his eyes from the sunlight. “Oh god, I’m gonna die. Everything is so bright.”

Bobbi reaches back over to close the blinds in deference to Clint’s hangover. He rolls over onto his back then, throwing an arm over his eyes. There are purple lipstick marks all down his neck, and stripper glitter still clinging to his abs.

“Good morning, love,” Bobbi coos. Clint freezes, moving his arm enough to crack an eye open. Bobbi throws her hair over her shoulder casually, shifting to catch the best angle in the dim light.

“What happened?” Clint asks. He sounds uncharacteristically worried, although that might just be the cottonmouth. Bobbi smiles prettily and holds up her left hand, where a simple gold band glints at him.

“Don’t you remember?” She bats her eyelashes at him, hoping her mascara is still relatively in place.

“Oh god. Did we- uh. Did we have sex?” Clint sits up suddenly, looking a little panicked. He runs a hand through his frosted tips, taking stock of the room.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I think we just went to sleep. We tied the knot after midnight, though, so we haven’t technically missed the wedding night.” She tries for a wink, but Clint is too busy falling out of bed to notice.

“Oh. Oh fuck,” Clint groans, and Bobbi feels a tug of sympathy because she’s never seen anyone handle a hangover so badly. “Bobbi, there’s been a mistake.”

“Well, we may have been a little hasty, sure. But we can always renew our vows if we want something more romantic. When we get back to New York we can-”

“I’m gay,” Clint blurts out.

[PRESENT DAY]

“How did you have frosted tips?” Bucky asks. “Your hair looks too light for that.”

“Oh, he’ll never tell,” Bobbi says, glaring full force at Clint. He gives her nervous finger guns.

“I’m a man of mystery.” He leans in close to Bucky’s ear to whisper “Natasha used to dye the roots for me.”

“Definitely the worst thing I’ve ever done,” Natasha adds. “And I’ve stabbed, like.” She pauses. “... Five? Five people.”

...

“We smell gross and we don’t care!” Clint shouts from the other side of the cabin circle. He’s got the whole gaggle of hawks behind him, with Kate bringing up the rear. They’re all decorated with creatively placed purple warpaint.

“We smell gross and we don’t care,” his kids echo enthusiastically. Clint raises something into the air, stretching it back like a giant rubber band. It’s dripping purple paint, and looks an awful lot like-

“Hawks don’t wash their underwear!” Clint bellows. His kids echo the chant as Clint looses his projectile across the circle, straight at Wolf Cabin.

Bucky catches it in his fist, not quite avoiding the splatter of purple. He untangles the bundle, holding up the soggy boxers.

“What the fuck?” he says. Red Wolf puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, looking out across the camp with a grim face.

“Color wars,” he says ominously.

There’s a sudden bang as the screen door to the girl’s cabin is thrown open, Natasha leading the charge. She has a red bandana tied around her head, and black paint smudged under her eyes like a football player

“Get a better war cry, Barton,” She calls, lobbing a water balloon through the air. There’s a chorus of tiny screams as the little hawks run for cover, but Kate counters with her own balloon from god-knows-where before Bucky has time to figure out if Natasha’s is even going to hit.

The balloons collide mid-air, a shower of purple and red raining down over the circle. The wolf girls are safely out of the splash zone, but a few little hawks get hit with a fine purple mist.

“Get a better throwing arm, Romanoff,” Kate shouts. Clint gives the kids some sort of hand signal, and they all turn tail towards the mess hall, shrieking with some kind of cross between laughter and terror. The wolf girls follow with a war-like scream.

“We’ll talk strategy at breakfast,” Natasha yells to Bucky as she runs past, giving Red Wolf a salute and ignoring Bucky’s open-mouthed stare. Bucky looks out across the circle, now splashed with red and purple. He can hear shouts and bangs from within the other cabins as the rest of the camp starts to wake up.

“Dear God,” Bucky says as Steve opens the door to the Star Cabin boot-first, decked in blue and hollering something about vengeance. Red Wolf shakes his head.

“God can’t help you now.”

[readyreddie]

Rebel Without a Cause

Here is a fic I wrote to go with my Rebel! Eddie HC. I plan on writing more one shots like this and put them in a collection on here and AO3. Also I am trying to get back into writing and if you have any pointers feel free to message me.

Disclaimer I do not own these characters or the story of It

Eddie paced around the room back and forth, going between states of pure rage and utter despair. After the fight with Pennywise he had told the Losers that his mom had been lying to him his whole life. That his medication were all gazebos (Ben tried to tell him they were called placebos but he was too mad to listen) and that he had never actually been a sickly kid.

“I-I-I JUST CANT BELIEVE SHE WOULD LIE LIKE THAT TO ME!” Eddie screamed in a fit of rage turning toward Beverly and Richie, then went back to pacing. They had gone back to Richie’s house because they knew his parents wouldn’t bother them and Bev wasn’t quite ready to go back to her empty home. “Like, she’s, she’s, my mom ya know.” He turned back towards Richie and Bev, tears starting to roll down his face, clinging tightly together in thick quiet streams. “She is supposed t-t-to love me. To help me gro-grow,” He choked back a sob trying to at least get the words out from the open vent that his mind had turned into. “and help me learn, not lie to me.” At the last word he managed before he fell to his knees, hitting the carpeted ground so hard that Richie was sure he would bruise.

“Eds, come on it’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here for you.” Richie ran over to Eddie and took him in his arms, slowly stroking the back of his head trying to find a way to soothe the pain out of him.

“D-DON’T FUCKING CALL ME T-THAT!” Eddie choked out in between sobs, tears now rolling off his face and onto Richie’s annoyingly bright shirt.

“Eddie.” Bev said in a soft tone, trying to get Eddie to come out of his blinding sadness, and into a more emotionally stable sad. “Eddie, look at me.”

“W-What?” Eddie asked his voice coming back to a normal level but his eyes still acting like a broken dam.

“How about instead of crying we do something that she would hate? Not like a permanent thing but just something to rebel a little?” Beverly knew that doing something stupid always helped her feel a little better and thought it might help in this situation. Based off of Eddie’s head perking up and the river of tears turning into more of a stream of tears it was working.

“Like what?” Eddie’s asked. Voice still sad, but the sobbing has stopped which was a good thing.

“Well, Eddie Spaghetti, you could smoke with us?” Richie smiled at the boy, thinking his suggestion was a good one but Eddie just continued to frown at him.

“How about we start smaller, dumbass? Less lung damage and more change.” Bev already had an idea in mind, and it wasn’t to cause Eddie to have an anxiety attack about smoking. She knew that the sicknesses his mom had told him were fake but those attacks that fucked his breathing were real enough.

“Yea, I don’t think I would do well smoking.” Eddie gave a slight smile, not a big one, and he hadn’t stopped crying, but he had a small smile and that gave Richie hope.

“Well how about we dye your hair?” Bev thought that with Eddie’s openness to his more feminine side that this would be a good place for him to start rebelling. Plus she knew of Richie’s huge crush on Eddie and thought that this would drive him insane and that she could tease him about it.

“Dye my hair?”

“YEA THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!” Richie’s very minimal filter had slipped, just for a second, but long enough that his crush was showing. And his sudden outburst had caused Eddie to gape at him in confusion. “I-I mean, that so, so, so…”

“It would be awesome, we could dye it whatever color you wanted, and if you don’t wanna dye the whole thing we could just do a strip.” Bev smiled at Richie who was turning a whole new shade of red under his coke bottle glasses. “How about it?”

“I’ve always kinda wanted to have lighter hair, not like bleached, but like dirty blond, maybe? Or, maybe red hair?” Eddie was talking like his normal self again, eyes still puffy and red, nose still running, but his tears had stopped and his tone was normal. He was still in Richie’s arms though and neither would dare to move.

“You would look so cute as a red head Eds. Like a male Molly Ringwald.” Richie smiled at him and squeezed him into a tight hug.

“Ri…chie…ease…up….can’t...breathe.”

“Oh, sorry Eds.” Richie eased the tension in his arms but did not fully let go, not missing Eddie letting the name slip, or telling him to get off.

“Red, got it. I can do that. I have dyed my own hair a few times and like to think I am pretty good at it. I will go buy the dye. I will be back in 20 minutes tops you guys stay right the fuck here. Don’t. Move.” Bev commanded before running out the room to grab her bike and the dye as fast as possible.

Move they did not. In fact, they laid there, Richie holding Eddie, for so long that Eddie was surprised their muscles didn’t atrophy. Eddie began to sink further into Richie’s chest his head feeling heavy from the tears. His eyes were closed and his breathing was steady but Richie couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not. It didn’t really matter either way, but as Richie sat there staring at Eddie he couldn’t help but fall deeper and deeper into the well of love that had been building their whole childhood. Eddie shifted around against Richie nuzzling against Richie with his face, mumbling something under his breath.

“What was that Ed’s?”

“I said, I love you Bitchy.” Richie blinked as his eyes widened.

“Dontcha mean Richie, Eds?” Eddie shifted again this time looking up and planting a kiss on Richie’s cheek.

“Nope.” He smiled then went back to having his head against Richie’s chest. They laid there for a while, eventually moving to the bed where they could be more comfortable, never did they once leave each other’s side though.

When Beverly returned she opened the door to find both boys laying in the bed, their limbs all tangled and Eddie’s head resting on Richie’s chest as it would rise and fall. Both were asleep and they looked so at peace that Bev didn’t want to wake them, but she had spent 20 dollars on two things of this shitty dye and they were going to fucking use it.

“Sorry love birds, but I need ya to get up so we can turn this small sad brunette boy into a small sad red head boy.” Beverly smiled, as she walked over and shook them awake. Richie’s eyes shot open and he glared at Bev giving her the finger for ruining the moment.

“Okay, Bev I am getting up.” Eddie rubbed his eyes which were still red, and probably would be for another hour after all that crying. “How do we do this?”

“You will do nothing, my darling boy. Mama Bev will handle it all for you.” She leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek and took him by the hand. She dragged him towards the bathroom where they spent the next 45 minutes. Eddie sitting on the toilet seat complaining about all the germs while Bev put the dye in his hair and waited to wash it out.

“Okay times up, Richie take the child’s head and put it under the sink.”

“Yes Madam.” Richie took Eddie by the hand and led him to the sink to wash the dye out.

“Now Eddie, your hair is pretty dark so we probably have to do this twice but lucky for us I love you and bought two box dyes for just this purpose.” Eddie lifted his head from the sink and looked at Bev. His hair still wet and matted from washing the dye out of it.

“Thanks Bev.” Eddie gave her a grin from ear to ear which meant the dye therapy was proving to be effective. “I’m just gonna dry off then we can decide what to do.”

“I can promise you’ll look fucking adorable no matter what color your hair is Eds”

“Don’t call me that Trashmouth.”  Eddie pleaded, but couldn’t turn away fast enough to hide his blush. He grabbed a towel off the rack and ruffled his hair.

“Here let me Spaghetti.” Richie took the towel from him and started rubbing it back and forth on his head.

“Uhhh thanks…” When Richie was done drying off Eddie’s hair for him he couldn’t help but admire the dark red color that was now Eddie’s hair.

“Oh wow! Your hair looks great, Eds!” If Richie hadn’t been in love with Eddie before he certainly was now. The boy’s dark brown hair had turned into a deep shade of auburn red. The hair fell on his face in all the right ways and the red played against his sun kissed skin like tree leaves in autumn breaking up the sunlight.

“Really?!? You think so?” He turned to the mirror styling it back and forth then looked back at Richie and Bev.

“Yea, you look totally adorable. I’m sure that hair will make someone fall for our little Eddie.” Bev smiled at the smaller boy and gave him a hug. Then turned to Richie and gave him a very sly smile of all knowing. “Well I am actually gonna go to Bill’s and…hang out. See ya boys.” She gave them both a kiss on the cheek then turned and walked out the room.

“Well what do you want to do Richie?”

“We could just lay down and watch Tv, I don’t think my parents are coming home till late.” Richie gave a sad smile before taking Eddie’s hand and leading them downstairs. He wanted to tell Eddie how cute he looked with his hair, he wanted to tell him how much he wanted to kiss him, and hold him, but for now he would take the unquestioning cuddling and tell him later.

[human-redesigned-rp]

A-Okay

Clyde/Dante

Cover your privates! Clyde discovered he has x-ray vision! Now no one is safe.

Clyde turned in his sleep, dragging his blankets in a knot around his legs. He could feel the late morning sunlight streaking across his face like a hot shower. The aromas of spiced tomatoes and eggs mingled with the constant smell of baking bread that climbed up the staircase into Clyde’s loft bedroom. “Mmm…” He grumbled, only slightly louder than his own stomach. It was the one proven way to get Clyde out of bed before noon, the promise of food. Luckily for his family, Yasmin Samara made the best breakfasts in the world. “Mmmmmm!” He growled a little louder, angry that the food had not magically appeared in his comfortable bed. With sluggish, heavy motions, Clyde rolled onto his back again and rubbed at his sticky eyes.

He blinked at the glaring sunlight that filtered through his open wooden slatted blinds. It was awfully bright for the dead of winter, causing his eyes to sting as they adjusted. A mighty yawn overtook him, stretching his sleep-heavy lungs and pulsing new morning air through his body, all the way to his flexing toes. Clyde lifted his hand to cover his mouth, and froze up.

That was not his hand. That was not even a hand. A collection of bones floated hazily in front of him in the rough shape of a hand. It wasn’t bloody. There was no carved away flesh, or painfully scorched nerves, just solid shapes standing out against a blurry background. Clyde blinked, but it did not clear the odd illusion from his eyes. He waved his hand, and the bones moved with him. Cautiously, he raised his arm to examine more.

“Gah!” Panic seized him at the sight of his skeletal body. Flailing, he threw his blankets off. His reckless, jerky motions sent him tumbling off the side of the bed in a tornado of arms and legs. He hit the wooden floor with a solid THUMP. “Ow!” Clyde complained, still tangled in his bedsheets, face pressed against the cold floor.

~*~*~*~

Dante heard Clyde's panic before he even uttered a noise. The smell of freshly baked bread overwhelmed the bedroom, causing him to flutter in and out of sleep. He was hungry, yes, but not hungry enough to wake up. It was his day off, which meant he was sleeping in as late as he possibly could. At least, that was the plan until Clyde's frantic thoughts reached his mind. That's not my hand. And something about bones. Thoughts were becoming easier and easier to read, but when they were so rapid fire, it was a little harder to pick up full sentences. Clyde was probably having a nightmare. Maybe, Dante shouldn't have told him the very specific, gory details about Richard Chase drinking his victim's blood before bed.

With a groan, his eyes fluttered open just as his friend toppled off the bed, landing at Dante's side. He sat up and merely blinked down at Clyde in thought, gaze wracking quietly over his body to find the source of his panic. Clyde's thoughts were still focused on his hand, but it looked perfectly normal to Dante. "I think you're hallucinating," He said simply.

~*~*~*~

“Shaddup,” Clyde groaned against the floor as he awkwardly tried to unravel the knot he had deftly tied himself into. He managed to lift himself up to sitting beside Dante’s cozy air mattress and sleeping bag. He grimaced as he rubbed his forehead, where a pinkish bump was forming. “Must of been a stupid nightmare,” he growled grumpily.

Lowering his hand, he moved to offer his best bud a cheery good morning grin, but his grin quickly warped into another grimace as he recoiled in shock. “Fuck!” He flinched away so fast, he banged his head against the wooden bed frame behind him. “Gah!” Clyde cupped the back of his head in searing pain.

“Dan you’re a skeleton, too!” He moaned, still rubbing the sore back of his head. “Everyone’s a skeleton! Where did all our bodies go?! Why is my bed frame so hard? You should be freaking out, Dan! Get with it!” He peeked up at Dante through tousled black hair. His eyes, normally a deep reflective black in color, shone a light icy blue. In front of him, the shape of Dan sat up in his bed, unfazed by the fact that he had no skin or organs. He looked back at Clyde with empty sockets and bare teeth. “This isn’t funny, Dan,” Clyde added, to emphasize that, for once, he was not kidding. Though it might be pretty funny if Dante somehow managed this as a prank.

~*~*~*~

He didn't notice while Clyde was in the bed, but now that he was eye-level and not flailing around, Dante could see that his friend's once dark eyes were now a cool blue. Dante wasn't phased easily. He read enough about serial killers to be pretty numb towards things that most people would flip over. But seeing his oldest (and only) friend with completely different eyes, added with his frantic thoughts about skeletons, Dante couldn't help but recoil a little in confusion.

Dante ignored his rapid fire questioning as he brushed his fingers against his cheeks, double checking that his skin was still there. His shoulders sagged a little in relief when he felt warm skin against his fingertips and not bone. It would be really unfortunate if he could read minds while also turning into a walking skeleton. "I'm not a skeleton. I can still feel my face," He reached for Clyde's hand and rested it against his cheek. He wasn't sure if Clyde's hallucinations were limited to sight or included touch as well, but he might as well give it a try. "Your eyes are blue, by the way."

~*~*~*~

Knobby, bony fingers prodded at Dante's hollow, bony cheeks. Clyde couldn't see Dante's eyes in the dark sockets, but he could feel his best friend's tense panic in his motions. "See? See? Where'd your skin go? Where'd my skin go? Why-" His ranting was interrupted by Dante's sigh of relief and his frustrating eternal calm. "You can- what?!" Clyde howled. He didn't have time to argue with Dante about just how impossible that was--because he clearly didn't have any skin on his face--as Dante was already leaning toward him.

"Woah woah woah..." He babbled quietly, his body tightening up as he pressed back against the wooden bed frame. Dante's bone hand wrapped around his wrist, cool and soft and fleshy. "Wait, what?" Dante lifted Clyde's hand to his own cheek and the bone there was rugged with stubble and plush to the touch. "Oh..." Clyde pat at his cheek experimentally. It all seemed to be there, where it was supposed to be. He just couldn't see it.

Something was wrong with his eyes."What the hell is wrong with my eyes?!" He waved a hand in front of his face, confirming that yes, indeed, he did still see through skin and meat. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the light still penetrated through his eyelids. "This isn't happening. C'mon eyes. Do normal seeing stuff." He squeezed so hard his eyes felt like they would pop, red veins pulsing in his vision. "Okay. I think it worked." He snapped his eyes open, then recoiled backward, slamming his head for a third time. "Motherfuck-!" His eyes burned crimson red as they picked up the throbbing heat of Dante's organs in motion. A thumping heartbeat, a churning digestive system, blood coursing all the way down to toes and up to his skull, every bit of heat radiated in Clyde's infrared vision. "Aww, what the hell? I thought I fixed it!"

~*~*~*~

Clyde's panic reminded him of his own when he randomly started hearing other people's thoughts, though his was much more internal. The mind reading was a gradual development. He could only pick out words in the beginning. At first, he didn't think any of it, he just figured Clyde or the passerby's in the library were merely speaking in broken sentences. It wasn't until he started responding to Clyde's thoughts that he realized that his friend wasn't actually speaking aloud.

Now, it seemed like Clyde was going through something similar, only it hit him suddenly unlike Dante. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but considering he was certain that Dante was a skeleton, he would guess either X-Ray vision or the ability to see people in their decayed forms. He would be a little jealous if it was the latter.

Dante watched silently as Clyde squeezed his eyes shut, raising a brow in surprise when he was met with red eyes this time. While Clyde didn't explicitly explain the difference, Dante could tell from his thoughts that he could now see his circulatory system. "Well, you would make a fantastic doctor now. If only you went to university," He replied flatly. "Not sure if baking croissants is enough experience to bypass medical school."

~*~*~*~

“It’s not a joke, Dan!” Clyde roughly untangled himself from his coil of blankets and tripped to his feet. “I ain’t no magic doctor. I need a doctor! Somethin’ went and broke my eyes!” He flailed at the walls around him, streaked with the red glow of hot water pipes.

He looked down at his bare feet on the fake wooden floor. He wiggled his toes, and pink toes striped with bright veins wiggled back at him. Clyde frowned, his forehead wrinkled with perplexity. He poked a tentative finger at the organs nestled below his shirtless rib cage, feeling his hard abdomen muscles under his rough fingertip. “So. Um. Can I see through things? How the hell does that work? What kind of STD makes that happen?”

He was pretty sure he hadn’t caught any STDs from his nonexistent sex life but he wasn’t completely sure he didn’t not have some freak STD from a toilet seat or a questionable free clinic visit.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard once against until the pressure felt like his eyes would pop. Neon red veins pulsed across his vision before it went black. For a split second, the panic hit again. After all that, was he blind now? Then he opened his eyelids. “Jesus Christ,” he sighed with relief. His bedroom looked the way it was supposed to, well mostly anyway.

The telly hung over his shelves of game stations and movies. Dante sat in a bed of blankets and pillows on a small air mattress, staring up at him with his trademark stony expression. The light streamed through his soft curtains in a spectrum of colors he’d never recognized before. Blinking, his dark eyes wandered around the room. “Or I could be fine. I guess.”

~*~*~*~

"Gonorrhea," Dante answered flatly, because even when his friend was having a crisis, his default mode was dry sarcasm. Besides, he knew firsthand that Clyde wasn't having any sex. Women would have to start thinking things about him that weren't along the lines of--"what a fucking twat," for that to happen. Dante was also suffering from unexplainable phenomenon, and he definitely wasn't having sex. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought.

He let Clyde work it out himself, listening into his thoughts as he watched him squeeze his eyes tight enough shut that Dante wouldn't be surprised if he burst a blood vessel. When he finally opened his eyes again, they were back to their regular brown, and even he had to sag a little in relief.

"Looks like you got over your Gonorrhea," Dante shrugged. All jokes aside, he couldn't help but wonder what they both did for this to happen. One person developing strange abilities was weird enough, two was just unheard of. Maybe, they both drank some dodgy tea.

~*~*~*~

For a moment, a silence hung between the two best friends like a flickering string of lights. Buzz buzz, short-circuiting. In the kitchen below them, Yasmin shouted something in Arabic to Francis. Her sharp consonants bounced and tumbled in a musical lilt. Clyde sucked in a deep breath as if he were coming up from underwater. “Yeah, gonorrhea,” he chuckled breathlessly. “Go figure.”

Let’s go with gonorrhea for now. It was a lot sexier than saying “freak unexplainable vision changes.” Did I hit my head? He wondered. Other than the half a dozen times I just did. He chewed on his lip pensively as he tip-toed over to the pile of lightly worn clothes stacked at the end of his bed. From the top of the pile, he plucked up a black zip-up hoodie and pulled it over his naked arms and chest. “Sooo...” He filled the awkward space in the room with talking, just to put himself at ease. “That was a fun and freaky way to start a day, yeah?” He wiggled his eyebrows with suggestive bravado.

Ziiiip. He pulled the hood over his head like a proper thug, his thick long hair spilling out around his tan shoulders. “Lotta crazy shit goin’ on ‘round here lately. I like it. We’re moving up in the world, mate.” In what way, he didn’t have a clue, but it sure did sound good. In his pajama pants and tangled bed-head, he didn’t quite look like the gangster impression he was going for.

At the base of the stairs, Yasmin’s fiery voice called up at them. “What is taking you boys so long? Your breakfast is getting cold!”

~*~*~*~

Dante knew Clyde didn't actually believe this was caused from gonorrhea from his thoughts. He didn't say anything as he listened in on his friend's conversation with himself. He didn't how to  stop himself from eavesdropping yet, he only just figured out how to listen to complete sentences. Besides, he didn't really want to turn it off. Part of him liked innate power in knowing more than people wanted him to.

He gave Clyde a blank look as he tried to move past the strange incident, still silent. He didn't really have to talk around his best mate though, he was used to how quiet Dante was by now. He used to not speak at all, but eventually Clyde pried the words from him. Still, he usually only spared even Clyde a few words every now and again.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," He rolled his eyes as he finally pushed himself to his feet, stretching out the kinks in your back. "Girls are only going to think you're even weirder now that you've got color changing eyes." Yasmin's voice interrupted him before he could go further, but he had nothing to add anyway. It was definitely something they were going to have to figure out eventually, but first breakfast. "Better head down. Careful with the eyes though, mate. You don't want to accidentally see through Yasmin's shirt."

~*~*~*~

"Psshhh." Clyde waved a dismissive hand at Dante's pessimism. "Are you kidding? Girls are so into that shit. Haven't you seen those vampire shows? They go gaga over them weird dead guys with crazy eyes. I'm telling you. I'm gonna be swimming in T and A from now-" His bragging was abruptly cut off by Yasmin's shouting. Clyde pinched his lips together, praying his adopted mum hadn't heard his disrespectful swagger. He tugged the hood off of his head before calling back down to her. "Coming!"

His bare feet patted across the fake wood floor as he shuffled over to the top of the stairs. Dante's warning caused him to freeze up on the top stair. When he turned back to look at Dante, his dark complexion had gone a sickly pallid shade and his dark eyes were wide with horror. "Why did you have to say that? You didn't have to say that. I could have gone my whole life without that image in my head. Now it's there forever. How do I bleach my brain, Dan? I don't want that thought."

He had the exclusive pleasure of never having to see his adopted mother without her clothing, and in spite of being family, he was perfectly comfortable never suffering that awkward moment. His wacky eyes would be a blessing out on the street, eyeing girls at the park, but there was a much darker side he hadn't prepared for.

~*~*~*~

It took a second for Dante to figure out what Clyde meant by "T and A." He should know by now after spending so much time with him, but he had the tendency to tune him out when he started to get like this. When he finally put two and two together, he wrinkled his nose in distaste, but didn't comment. He definitely didn't agree that would be the case though. Girls didn't like Clyde before, and they definitely wouldn't now that he could see their tits through their shirts.

"I'm just setting your expectations," Dante shrugged nonchalantly and leaned against the stair railing. "If your new...vision is here to stay. Who knows what'll happen until you learn to control it? Maybe, you should avoid looking at people for a while."

He met Clyde's gaze with his own intense stare, double checking to see if his friend's eyes were still their normal brown color. "Also, remember I can read your thoughts. If you try to get a look at my cock, I'll know. Keep your eyes up here," He threatened lowly. He knew men usually weren't Clyde's thing, but they did kiss in that club once and he knew his friend's curiosity would get the best of him eventually.

~*~*~*~

Clyde rolled his eyes loudly as he lifted the hood of his jumper over his shaggy hair once again. "Maybe you should avoid looking at people," he echoed Dante's words in a silly robotic voice. "Can you hear yourself?" He scoffed, with a ragged little laugh. "Yeah, I'll just stop looking at anyone ever, that's totally doable. Even better, let's just put a blindfold on me! Oh wait-" He waved his hand in front of his eyes energetically. "I see through shit." He threw his hands in the air in frustration.

Dante always made things sound so simple. Just calm down. Just do your homework. Just stop looking at people. Like it was that easy to control himself. "Okay. Sure. I'll stare at my shoes instead of using this gift God gave me. Listen Dan, it's about time you and I started getting the good things we deserve. We started out with nothing, but now we have this!" He gestured between the two of them, tracing an emphatic connection. "It would be a crime if we didn't use this shit to make our lives better! It's our turn, Dan! Things are only getting better from here!" He swung a gentle bro fist at Dante's shoulder.

Looking up, he realized Dante was staring hard at him, his dark eyes searching for something. His heart hiccuped with surprise at the grim intensity of his best friend's stare. A flimsy laugh of dismissal stumbled from his chest. "Jeez, Dante, you take the fun out of everything." He dodged the subject expertly with a casual tease. The thought hadn't crossed his mind until Dante mentioned it, but now the seed of curiosity had been planted. His dark eyes wandered toward the ceiling as he tried to remember if he'd ever caught a glimpse of Dante's cock while changing or using the restroom, but nothing came to him. They were the same height and a similar build. All things considered, it was probably the same size as his own. Clyde made a pensive little frown as he blinked at the ceiling, and the colors of the world shifted toward blue again. "Ah shit!" He froze up on the stairs, afraid to look down unless Dante might clobber him for his curiosity.

~*~*~*~

Now that he was over the initial panic of having fucked up vision, Clyde seemed to be embracing his new ability as if he could "see through shit" for years. Dante wasn't surprised though. That was just Clyde's attitude about most things in life. It wasn't like Dante was handling his own horribly, but he did think he was going mental for a good few weeks first.

Dante wasn't sure how reading people's thoughts made things better. It wasn't exactly thrilling to overhear people mentally recite their grocery list, or even better, think about how creepy he was. If he wanted, he could find a way to use it to his advantage, but he was a librarian, not a mastermind. "You're starting to sound like you're going to form your own version of the X-Men. What're we supposed to do with mind-reading and X-ray vision? Look at people's innards and listen to their mental breakdowns?"

Sometimes Dante wondered if Clyde forgot he could listen in on his thoughts or if he just didn't care, because he could hear every word of his internal struggle over Dante's threat, questioning if he's ever seen his cock. He merely stared blankly as he waited for his friend to work it out himself before rolling his eyes. When he met Clyde's gaze again, the color shifted from brown to blue again. "I'm going downstairs," Dante sighed before bypassing him. "Don't fall down."

~*~*~*~

“Jesus, mate!” Clyde complained, throwing his hands in the air. “It’s like you have no imagination in that big brain of yours.” He reached up to tap a finger to Dante’s forehead. “You and I? We could be, like, super-spies! Or con artists! Hell, we could rob banks with this shit. We’re basically two walking human lie-detectors. You hear what’s in their heads, I see what’s in their pockets, a little bait and switch...” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Dante moved past him down the stairs before he had a chance to steal a glance at Dante’s gear between his legs. “Ah wait! Come on mate! You know I was kidding!” He was totally not kidding, and Dante totally knew that too. Turning to follow Dante down the stairs, Clyde gripped the handrail then came to a sickening realization. He wobbled on his feet as he looked down at the frame of the staircase with no steps. He could see right through them.

With a tense frown, Clyde clung to the railing and stuck a tentative toe out to fish for the next step. His skeletal foot rested on hard black air. “Ugh, this fucking suuuucks,” he moaned to himself as, inch by inch, he crept down the staircase. When he reached the bottom, he jumped up and down in victory. “Ha! Take that! I didn’t need your help!” He blinked, and the world shifted again back to solid things, wreathed in vivid colors. “I totally have this under control.” He announced with swagger as he sauntered away to the kitchen for breakfast.