#and i had to write this all down right now or else i'll. explode

[volo-omnia]

Pokemon Legends Arceus is about Home and what it means to create a Home, change my mind (a mini essay)

Main series titles in the Pokemon series tend to follow themes and explorations of them. With mythology and tradition from Gold/Silver, our relationship to nature in Ruby/Sapphire, truth vs ideals in Black and White, and even the reoccurring themes of treasure and past vs future in Scarlet and Violet.

While PLA is a new departure from most series titles, it still explores a bunch of themes that are central to its story. While the land of ancient Hisui is partial to old traditions, divine gods, and the endless wild, several characters in the game have a recurring theme surrounding on the idea of "Home". This could be how "home" is defined, how one creates a home, and what it means to lose one.

One of the foremost examples of this is you, the player. While we know nothing of the player character outside of what is shown in the intro sequence and possible dialogue choices, the prompt of PLA is obvious. You were taken from your home by Arceus to be dropped into Hisui. Whatever life you had before, you will never come back to. And upon waking up on the beach that Laventon finds you, you have little to no memory, no money, no pokemon, and no where to go.

You have no home.

Now for the player character while it can be interpreted or headcanon a variety of possibilities, (such as the player character being the same player character from D/P/Pt) because it's a player character and meant to be a blank slate, we essentially don't know anything about the hero canonically outside of this. For all intents and purposes the hero has no home to begin with. But there is one thing we know. By the end of the game when you finally meet and defeat Arceus, he doesn't send us back home. We remain in Hisui. Once again, we cannot return to the home we came to. Hisui is our forever home now, but the choice is ours whether we accept or reject it.

This theme occurs a lot with the other characters of the game, to which we will be going through them.

One of the first characters in this game that also hits with this theme is Commander Kamado. Throughout the game it is specifically described as to how his character game to be. His home in Kanto was destroyed by wild pokemon, to which he and the other villagers had to immigrate to Hisui. Upon landing at Prelude Beach, they build Jubilife Village, a haven with large protective gates and guards always on patrol, ensuring security. It's their home, and Kamado repeatedly tells you throughout the game how he's determined to build a home for the village and himself. Even when the skies turn blood red and he banishes you into the wilds, he's determined to fight tooth and nail to protect his home.

This is one of the more obvious examples. Kamado has no home to return to. But in doing so with perseverance, he creates a new one. Even though Hisui is quite different from his old home in Kanto, he does settle with creating a new home, one that is safe, prospering, and peaceful. But when his home is threatened, he does not go back down to protect it.

A home is something you build.

Another similar example of this is the dynamic of Adaman and Irida. Their clans too migrated from other lands to Hisui, eventually settling on the land and living with the local pokemon. From their eyes, a home is something you must share and work together with. Even though they both warred over their patron gods, both the young clan leaders are determined to create a home that is peaceful and without bloodshed between them. However since this is the age of religious folks, insulting one's household deity is also akin to insulting one's home.

To some, a god is a home.

Later in the game we also encounter Lady Cogita. She like most, has no home. While Hisui is the land she has lived in for many years, her original home is long lost to time. As one of the Celestica, all of her people and culture have long disappeared, her god gone, and her old home now reduced to ruins scattered across the land. While she does reside in the Ancient Retreat, was it ever truly her home? That given her long life, does she ever miss the home she once had, and still vividly remembers? Is a home a home if you have no one to share it with? Does she ever feel homesick for her god that no longer answers her? She is a character with many mysteries to her, but you can't help but wonder what burdens could be going through her mind. The deities of time and space may have created the land, but is it the same as creating a home?

And most of all we cannot forget Volo. Your rival, nemesis, and literary foil. Unlike the others, he has no home, but has no home to return to either. Like Cogita, he too has lost all of his Celestica roots. However unlike Cogita, it's unknown whether he actually knows what their home was like before. Since we don't know canonically if Volo was alive at the same time as Cogita, we can assume he came long after the ruin of the Celestica, as he regularly questions her on the myths and traditions of a culture he isn't familiar with. He is a character that was born without a home, and tries desperately to pick up its pieces by ancient stories and writings on ruin walls. He also desperately yearns for his household god, as Arceus has long disappeared in the eyes of the world along with the Celestica.

Volo, as a character, is defined by his homesickness.

However unlike the hero, Volo refuses to accept Hisui as his home. As we all know at the end of the game when Volo reveals his true colors, he mentions that he wishes to subjugate Arceus to create a new world. In a desperate attempt to create a home he can finally accept, his wish is to create one with the powers of his god, and have pain and suffering be long-forgotten concepts. What makes Volo the villain in this scenario however, is that in order to complete this goal, it will destroy the homes of everyone else. In a grand act of selfishness, Volo is willing to destroy the homes of others in order to create his own. A home is something he is willing to destroy.

Overall throughout the game, the theme of what makes a "home" is repeated. Whether it be characters losing their home, characters trying to build a home, or characters trying to simply find a home. And as you play the game, the world around the hero changes. As humans and pokemon start to work together, their lives and homes start to become intertwined, creating a new life for everyone around them.

All lives touch other lives to create something anew and alive. That is a home.

[stxrvel]

hate is a strong word

summary: you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 6k

warnings: some bad words, a lot of arguments, a HUGE flashback, a little bit of angst i think? bucky and reader insult each other, reader doesn't like to listen, bucky is easily angered, bucky likes to destroy things when he gets angry but regrets it easily, this is not exactly a healthy relationship(? descriptions of weapons, missiles and buildings being bombed, reader is also very stubborn and likes to put her life at risk… or so.

note: hi guys!! so i came back and i am kinda proud of this one. i think i haven't felt that way in a long time. i gave myself the time to write when i felt like it and it was wonderful, so this came out. also i put the poll for a whole week and i can't change it now >:(, but i think this onsehot fits the angst with a happy ending (im not sure if this fits the angst tho, you gotta tell me) but im gonna try to do something else that fits the vibe, and i'll probably do some other poll to write about someone else. (also i think i should warn you guys that i dont think im that good writing action scenes or tension scenes, so if that's bad i hope you forgive me): anyway, hope you guys like this one!! i love reading your comments so if you want and can, please leave some <33 love you all and see you next time!

part 2

Bucky was really pissing you off too much at that moment. Or maybe you were feeling a little uncomfortable.

He hadn't spoken a single word to you since you had arrived at that tiny house, only shrugged silently and then exploded. You had seen Bucky explode several times before and you admitted that watching him was somewhat entertaining; seeing the faces of frightened people, trying to flee away from his angry face and destructive hands, but physically forced to stand by and listen to his scolding. You used to have fun with that. However, at the time, when you were the extreme recipient of that anger, it wasn't so much fun.

You had already heard a couple of broken glass, shattered wood and metal containers fall to the ground. Maybe five minutes or so had passed and he was barely pausing to look at his artwork. It wasn't too much that he had taken and thrown while you had stayed in the room, but it had all sounded very loud, so you had no choice but to go out and see what he was doing.

You were leaning against the threshold of the hallway to the bedrooms, right across from the living room and kitchen. Bucky looked like he had just finished getting all his anger out when he finally stood silently. He probably thought you were asleep while he was doing all that, as if that sound couldn't wake you up. Was he really that angry about what you had done? You mean, yes, it was very risky, but there you were alive, weren't you?

You felt the best thing you could do was to stay quiet and wait for him to say or do something, because you could risk that angry outburst really coming down in your face. For that moment he had only taken it out on the house, which had nothing to do with your problems, and you didn't want the arguments to start filling the silence that followed his stillness.

But, well, you didn't always do the right thing. That's why you were in that situation in the first place.

“Are you done yet?” you signed your sentence.

Bucky had a tense posture, squared shoulders moving in rhythm with his accelerated breathing. His back was to you, staring at the kitchen counter that had been left completely empty. You knew by the way he was clasping his hands that he was trying to maintain his composure.

“Are you serious?” his voice came out hoarse, a sign of his growing anger.

Maybe you should have stopped there, or when he continued to not turn to look at you, but you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.

“What's your problem, Barnes? Yes, I took a chance, but it's not that big of a deal. It's not for this,” you pointed to the mess around you, even though he wasn't looking at you.

“It's not a big deal, you say?” Bucky moved and you felt yourself watching his angry figure move in slow motion. “What's your problem?”

His beady eyes met yours. You felt a little intimidated by the ripples of annoyance coming off his body, filling the entire room with an unbearable, suffocating tension. His scowl and that strangely calm tone of voice made your hair stand on end.

None of the pieces of glass or splintered wood on the floor looked as dangerous as that expression on Bucky's face. He looked very angry, yes, but there was also something in his eyes when he looked at you. Something like concern… but that was impossible.

“Really, Y/N, what's your problem? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Now, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I was the mission leader!” his voice rose, his body moving forward as he pointed his index finger at himself. “And you were supposed to follow my orders.”

“I did, Barnes, I-”

“No,” he exclaimed, again moving closer. “You didn't do anything I asked you to do! Why can't you just…? Argh.”

You moved back a little as he planted his hands on the dining room table. You felt a little pressure in your chest at the sight of him like this, as if defeated and hopeless. Disappointed. But that was a common thing. That's why you used to have individual missions, and that's why you didn't really like working in a team. You mean, it wasn't wrong to do it, but everything always ended up in arguments because nobody liked the way you worked, so it was better to do it alone, right?

Seeing Bucky like that reminded you of how many times you had seen that look on the faces of Steve, Natasha, Tony, Clint, even Thor… It was never welcome nor were you comfortable with what was coming next, but it was the way you worked, how could you change out of nowhere something you had done your whole life?

Maybe you just had to apologize, sometimes that worked. Because you also knew that, knowing how bossy and caring Bucky was, you should have at least held back a little during the mission. Bucky's patience couldn't stand that sort of thing.

“Listen, I'm sorry, okay? I was a little careless, but that's how-”

“A little careless?” he interrupted you, his voice and face incredulous. "You almost got yourself killed."

“We're in this job under that risk, Barnes, that's not news.”

The man in the middle of the mess ran his hands over his face, elated, frustrated and surely overwhelmed. He let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl before turning back to look at you.

“Why can't you just listen?”

His accusing gaze enlarged a hole in your chest that you constantly tried to ignore, planting bitter feelings of sadness that you were usually very good at avoiding. But at that moment, for some reason, you couldn't stop your face from twitching at the strong, hurt tone of the man who looked at you as if he couldn't believe who you are and what you do. It seemed like Bucky was always in denial and today he realized that what everyone always told him was true.

That look, that dull gleam in his eye, that expression of understanding… All of that you were used to seeing, but coming from him it felt different. As if you hadn't really meant to cause those feelings, as if you wanted to turn back time to do things differently. The surprisingly incredulous and remorseful look was digging deep into your head, searing itself with hot iron to make sure to haunt you in the future.

At that moment you didn't care if Bucky realized how much his words affected you. Maybe you deserved to feel that way. Maybe he should have known that it affected you too much, that would surely do more than an apology.

“If only you had listened to me, we would have left sooner and without any trouble,” Bucky spoke again after what felt like hours of silence.

You couldn't take him back. It was true.

“Why did you…? Argh. Whatever. I'm going to report to Fury.”

His figure passed you like a blur. You barely felt his presence very superficially before all was silent again.

Your heart ached again. For some reason, it wouldn't stop hurting that it was still beating.

The day before.

“WHAT?” you exclaimed in disbelief and the director's tired look reappeared.

“It's already scheduled, Y/N, I can't undo it. So just go, try to cooperate together and come back in one piece,” Fury leaned back against the back of the chair, putting his feet up on the desk.

You looked at his shoes as if they were to blame for everything.

“It's funnier to think Bucky reacted the same way,” Tony spoke up, sitting in the chair next to yours, a mocking expression on his face.

“Shut up,” you smacked his arm before turning back to the director. “Sir, you know Barnes and I don't get along and knowing that, what makes you think we'll hit it off on a mission?”

Fury shrugged. “A hunch.”

“A hunch…?” you repeated in a low tone, twice as incredulous that the big SHIELD director had just said that.

“That's it, agent, you're dismissed.”

You left his office on your own, not because you had been dispatched. The walk to the housing complex took you longer than ever at that point.

You'd only had one mission with Bucky Barnes once a couple of years ago and it had been a disaster. Your group missions usually ended with a close call, but that time with Bucky it was like going to hell and back.

You two had never gotten along. Regardless of Fury's hundreds of attempts to get along, you had never managed to vibrate on the same frequency. It seemed more like you repelled each other every time you were together, and it was totally justified because Bucky was too bossy and wouldn't let you breathe for a single second. Every second of the mission had to be ruled by him because otherwise he was going to explode into a sea of rage and, God, no one wanted to piss Bucky off in that Complex. However, you were always the first to tell him that his tactics weren't working or that he was too slow and well, naturally, you ended up arguing.

You met Natasha and Steve halfway to the rooms and from the way they both looked at each other before the redhead approached you knew you must surely have a scrunched up face.

“Did something happen?” Natasha asked as soon as she reached your side and started walking at the same pace as you, slightly more hurried than usual.

“Fury assigned me a mission with Barnes,” you spat out the good news, impossibly frowning harder at the mention of that name.

“Oh,” Natasha nodded. “Well, you could try to work things out-”

“What things, Natasha?” you paused, turning to look at her as everything around you turned red. “There's nothing to fix here, because Barnes is a stubborn, obstinate, childish, bossy, stupid man who is incapable of speaking like a civilized adult and only knows how to shout orders everywhere as if he's the bossy one in the Complex. I can't stand him!”

“Wow.”

You heard his voice.

“I hope you know the feeling is reciprocated.”

You turned to see him, his body was leaning against the island at the entrance to the kitchen, in a strategic spot as if you could never realize he was there because your path was to the other side. Natasha watched between the two of you like a tennis match, fearful as if at any moment the screaming would start and she would have to run away.

You didn't know what to do. You were super angry, yes, and you felt your blood boiling inside your veins, too. And you'd said all that stuff to Bucky's face before, and God knows how many times before you'd argued just by seeing each other in the halls of the Complex. Despite that, you felt trapped. The anger was still there, yes, but his gaze pierced through you like a sword.

“Believe me, I don't want to go on this mission with a stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, ignorant, individualist like you either, who cares not for the safety of the team but for her own victory, no matter how she achieves it.”

With his eyes sharp, his heavy footsteps approached you, echoing in your head loudly like the second hand of a clock. He had stopped at a safe distance as he spoke and at one point Natasha had grabbed your arm when it seemed you had tried to approach him as well.

“You're a hypocrite,” you spat at him.

“Ha! Me?”

“You always play the saintly dove, but you know you're not much different from me.”

“I'm nothing like you,” Bucky wrinkled his face, as if the very thought caused him to shiver with disgust.

“You're an individualist, too, imposing your plans on others.”

“You never have a plan! What do you expect me to do, let you go and die?”

“I do have plans! But you don't like them because they are more effective than yours.”

“They're more effective at the cost of risking more of our lives.”

“That's what our job is all about!”

“Our job is about protecting! How are you going to accomplish a mission if you're dead?”

“Well, I've done pretty well so far, in case you haven't noticed.”

“If I had a nickel for every time you've gone airhead straight into danger and ended up nowhere near dead, I'd have as much money as Stark.”

“And if I had a nickel for every time your stupid, slow plans have caused you to lose sight of the target and made you come back empty-handed, I'd be twice as rich as Stark.”

“At least my kill rate is minus five.”

“And my hit rate is one hundred by the way.”

“Are you even listening to what you're saying?”

“That I always finish missions on the first try, unlike you?”

“That you're treating your life like it's something insignificant.”

“Ah, now you care about my life?”

Natasha tightened her hand around your forearm again preventing you from again getting too close to the man who was getting on your nerves. Before he could respond, you spoke again:

“Look, Barnes, to make it absolutely clear to you for the rest of your long life: I love my life and I love my job. I love my life because it allows me to have this job and I love my job because it allows me to have this life. If you have a problem with how I choose to do the job, that's just that, your problem. But don't think you're coming here to give me a psychology lesson to make me believe that I don't value my life just because now you've run out of arguments. It's because I value my life, Barnes, that I always come out of every mission unscathed. I don't put myself at risk because I'm oblivious. I always have everything figured out and that's why everything always works out for me.”

Bucky snorted, his body moving away from yours, but despite that expression on his face he didn't respond again. He gave you a sidelong glance before walking back into the kitchen.

Your shoulders felt a little lighter. For a moment you thought he was going to continue arguing.

Natasha next to you sighed, finally letting go of your forearm.

“Why did you hold me so tight?” you frowned at her, rubbing the part of your skin that was slightly red. “Did you really think I was going to fight a super soldier?”

Natasha shrugged under your gaze.

“We've known you to do crazy things.”

“I wouldn't have stood a chance of beating him even if he gave me the upper hand.”

Five hours earlier.

You hadn't seen Bucky for the rest of the day after that discussion, until the next day when you had to get on the Quinjet and didn't even glance at each other.

Steve was in charge of handling the airplane and, apparently, he was also in charge of briefing you on how you were going to proceed on the mission, because Bucky was too busy drilling holes with his gaze somewhere else on the Quinjet away from the two of you.

Neither spoke when you descended nor when you approached the base apparently in a state of abandonment.

Bucky's mission were flat and simple, but as usual he had no backup plan, because all his backup plans were the same: run away. Bucky had a chick's sense of survival, that's why when things went bad was the time when he would scream at you the loudest.

Just like it happened on that mission.

“This place is deadly quiet,” you spoke for the first time, barely earning a sidelong glance from the man next to you.

You had already finished thermo-sensor checking every floor of the building and it was indeed desolate. Still, you felt a strange uncomfortable chill run down your back.

“Well, that's what deserted means,” Bucky commented, his sarcasm sharp.

You rolled your eyes at him, even if he couldn't see you, and kept walking with your gun raised as you approached the checkpoint.

“I mean I can't even hear birds or crickets, doesn't that strike you as odd?”

“Well, we're on the fourth floor, wouldn't it make it stranger if you could hear them at this altitude?”

“Well, you can hear at this height. Tell me, do you hear anything down below?”

Bucky paused. They were a few steps away from reaching the room. His deadly stare caused you nothing but boredom and you would have ignored him completely except that he let out a sigh, dejected. You detailed him minutely as he seemed to focus his hearing on external sounds.

“There's nothing,” he spoke after a few seconds, his brow slightly furrowed.

“You see?”

“But that doesn't mean anything. We'd better finish this quickly.”

Ignoring the grimace on your face, Bucky moved to step into the room whose door was wide open. You stared offended at his back and felt the urge to smack his big head with the butt of your gun.

“Here it is,” you heard him exclaim from inside.

Sighing you made your way to where he stood. A large display of old computers anchored to the wall.

“You should do it yourself,” you looked at Bucky with a smirk. “I don't handle equipment this old.”

Bucky only snorted in response and moved with his gun to another side of the room, leaving you in complete silence to do your job.

You moved quietly and sat down in front of the machines. You plugged them into the power source you brought in your suitcase and in a few minutes they began to work.

The mission was simple. There was one of the old HYDRA bases that contained specific information that Fury needed to find. Up to that point, they had searched about seven abandoned bases without any success. So there you were with Bucky, at the eighth base they had identified, digging through old commands and in another language trying to find the information they needed.

Ever since they left the Complex that morning you were convinced you would find nothing. They had already raided several bases and there were still a few more to go. The probability that you would find that information at that time was…

Bingo.

“Got it,” you exclaimed to Bucky.

You heard his hurried footsteps and then felt the warmth of his body next to you.

“Is that it?”

“Just a folder.”

“And why does it load so slowly?”

“It's an old computer, Bucky, it works at its own pace.”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance. “Wish you understood me like you understand that thing.”

“Aish,” you pouted by way of mockery. “Jealous, Barnes?”

The aforementioned just snorted.

The load was running at forty percent and truth be told, yes, it was too slow. But you could do nothing but wait, there was no way to speed it up.

Bucky paced back and forth behind you and you just watched the green lines move as if that helped at all. But, well, what else could you do?

At one point, as the charge was about to reach eighty percent, you heard interference on your communicators.

“Argh,” you shook your head and raised your hand to move the device a little away until the sound died down. “Steve?”

There was no response.

You turned to look at Bucky, who had the same quizzical expression.

The interference returned and then you heard Steve's voice distorted.

“… of… moment!”

“What the fuck is he saying?”

Bucky remained silent, tapping the device on his ear as if that would fix it.

But you saw it before you heard Steve's voice again.

A clump of people through the window. A freshly loaded cannon.

“Barnes…”

And at that moment, Steve's voice filled them with clarity.

“It's an ambush! Get out of there now!”

The quickness of the impact didn't let you process what was happening. Less than a second after hearing Steve the ground shook beneath your feet. The cracks in the floor started small and then swallowed you apart.

You held onto a beam, barely lucid enough. You propelled yourself upward, swinging your forearms over the patch of ground that was still intact. You heard Bucky's grunts in the distance. He was surely all right.

You heard him call out to you too, but as soon as you could sit down on the ground, the first thing you did was to reach for the pendrive.

Your heart was pounding, so hard it might as well have flown out on its own. Your breathing accelerated, with adrenaline rushing through your body was the only thing you could feel. At that moment you felt capable of anything.

You stood up quickly to look out the window again. The people were gone and the cannon had been destroyed.

It was at that moment that you realized that Steve was still talking on the communicator.

“I'm fine,” you replied, after being able to decipher his words amidst the constant buzzing from the sound of the explosion and the dizziness you felt at the sight of the hole next to you.

“Okay, you're both fine,” the Captain spoke again.

“Y/N, you can get down from there and get to the floor below. I'll catch you.”

At the sound of Bucky's voice, you moved away from the window.

Bucky had landed on the floor below, and yes, from where you were you could jump up and you'd probably have nothing but a cramp.

“How's it going up there?”

“Well, the shields are holding up okay, but I've got poor vision. I think they're regrouping somewhere else.”

You looked around.

Most of the floor had swallowed up the computers, but the main one was still loading the document. You could see the green from where you were. It was at ninety-seven percent.

But it was dangerous to get too close. The pendrive was dangling from the main computer which was about to succumb to the cracked floor.

There was some concrete left in front of the computers that you could walk across, so, without a second thought, you mapped out a mental guidance plan and moved forward.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I'm getting the pendrive.”

“What? Are you insane? That side of the floor isn't going to support your weight!”

“Yes it will. I know how to do it.”

You started walking all over the remaining edge of the floor in front of what was left of the computers. Small pieces would break off as you passed causing Bucky to hiss.

“Y/N, you'd better stop and get down right now. There's still a risk of them firing again.”

“I'm gonna get it, Barnes.”

“Y/N! Get down, now!”

Ignoring his command, you held onto the remaining wall in front of you as you continued on your way, almost reaching where the pendrive was, about to fall into the abyss.

Ninety-eight percent.

“Y/N!”

“Fucking hell, Barnes, will you shut the fuck up? Your yelling is breaking my concentration.”

“You want me to just stay quiet while you walk to your certain death?”

“I'm not going to dieee- ahh-”

Your left foot, the one in front, wobbled as a piece of the floor came loose. You clung tightly to the wall as best you could, breathing deeply to calm your racing heart. Panicking at that moment wasn't going to do any good.

“God, I can't believe this,” you heard Bucky's voice, muttering to himself. “Now are you really going to get off?”

His voice sounded reprimanding, but agitated. In the midst of that mess, you wondered for a moment if he was really worried.

“I'm almost there.”

You heard him grunt in the distance.

You kept moving your feet in the direction of the main computer, this time more cautiously and more slowly. The floor all along that edge was too cracked, on the verge of falling. You were surprised it had lasted this long.

At that point, Bucky started talking to Steve, but you kept your full concentration on not falling. Maybe Bucky was right and you really didn't have any regard for your life, but…. No, no. You were very sure of what you were doing. You couldn't give up without trying everything. Maybe for Bucky it was too risky, but that was your life. And you knew you could do it.

Ninety-nine.

You had reached the critical point on the ground.

The voices of the two men were becoming too overwhelming, so you quickly took off your communicator and stuffed it in one of your tactical pants pockets.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Bucky exclaimed, a considerable distance away. He wasn't as far away as you thought.

“Your voices are distracting me!”

Good. You were close. Maybe from there you could reach it… if you stretched a little… a little more… a little- Whoop. Nope. You weren't that close. Another chunk of floor fell and with it everything around you shifted. The concrete was so unstable that it tilted further into the abyss after your not at all incredible maneuver.

You had to get even closer.

You had to use plan c.

But for that, the pendrive had to be one hundred percent charged and you weren't sure you could wait for that. Or well, you weren't sure the floor would hold. You had to be quick.

You heard Bucky behind you, but his words were carried away by the wind. You couldn't focus on him because that would be too distracting.

So, arriving at point x, you executed your plan as quickly as possible.

You ran. Even if the world was falling down, you ran. In the direction of the pendrive. The green number didn't change. You took a deep breath. You felt the sparks fly around you. The sound of the ground cracking was going to haunt you in several dreams.

You picked up the pendrive. You would have a few extra seconds as you leaned over and climbed over the computers to gain momentum.

The bing of the computer filled you with a rush of adrenaline.

One hundred percent.

You jumped. You held your breath for a second. Nerves built up in your throat. You felt like you were going to lose consciousness for a minute. Maybe you heard Bucky in the background, you weren't sure, but knowing him he was probably still scolding you.

In the midst of a deep exhalation…

Your feet hit the ground. You rolled. You moved quickly as you turned to see that the ground was still falling. You got up and ran.

You ran until you collided with a solid body. Bucky was shaking your shoulders.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he exclaimed, his face angry.

You could hear Steve's voice through his communicator because of how close he was.

“Shit.”

He grabbed your arm and you ran again.

Somehow, Bucky managed to get you out of the building as they bombed it again. You had a gunfight the moment you touched the cold snow.

You moved alongside Bucky like a symphony, aiming and firing with your gun until you managed to get away.

When you noticed that you kept going and kept running…

“Where's Steve?”

“If you had your fucking communicator on…”

Bucky grabbed your hand again to keep running.

You quickly reached a shack that looked abandoned and the man next to you wasted no time in letting go of you and running in the direction of what appeared to be a garage. There was a motorcycle.

You reached into your pocket only to realize that the communicator had been destroyed.

And Bucky looked too angry to want to talk.

“Get on.”

He drove all the way into town, but he didn't stop there.

You were on the road for at least about two hours. You had no idea where you were.

Somewhere along that trip, Bucky stopped in front of another abandoned shack and from there he pulled out a car. He set the bike on fire.

You went back on the road, for at least another hour.

Until you reached a small town and Bucky finally stopped in front of a house that didn't look so neglected.

“They destroyed the Quinjet's shields at missile point. Steve had to leave. We'll stay here until I can get through to Fury and we know what to do.”

His voice gave no room for retorts.

Present.

Well, yes, you were a bit reckless during missions, but so what? You got what you needed thanks to your incredible action plans and always came out unscathed. If you didn't do that during missions, how far behind would they be now in their knowledge against the enemy? They would probably be sitting ducks. Bucky didn't see that.

You two didn't talk for much of the afternoon and evening. You had spent it in the living room, trying to avoid the mess he had made to get something to eat and rest. You had perhaps slept for about three hours when you woke up and saw him sitting in one of the dining room chairs. The room looked cleaner than before.

Bucky sighed when he realized you had woken up.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Earlier when we arrived. And for all the mess,” he averted his gaze when you leaned on your forearm to get a better look at him.

“Don't you think it was the least you could do?” quizzical, you sat back on the couch.

“Weren't you the one who said I don't know how to talk like a civilized adult?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sometimes.”

“Well, now I want to. That's why I deeply apologize for reacting that way.”

You remained silent, not really knowing how to answer him. On the previous mission you'd had with Bucky, when the whole mess was over and you were quietly in the Quinjet taking it all in, Bucky had only said “you're fucking crazy” to you before exiting the aircraft. There was no scolding, at least not from him, no complaining, no yelling. Just that. And with that you stayed for a week because you never even saw him again.

Despite the number of times you had heard that, you couldn't see it that way. That was your job, that was what you did and you didn't dislike it. You had done it forever, it was basically your way of life and you had always done it excellently. You trained and practiced for situations like that, that's why you were part of SHIELD's risk management team for so long. You used to risk your life like that to save other people and it didn't bother you. Now you were still doing it, also to save people. There was no dark reason behind it. You were contributing to a common good and that was enough.

“I guess I haven't made things bearable for you either,” you admitted with a hint of remorse.

“No, never,” Bucky shook his head in agreement.

“I'm sorry I scared you,” the words slipped from your mouth. You wanted to say something else, but, well, that had to work.

Bucky let out a short laugh. His head jerked in sync, his shoulders loose as if he didn't have a care in the world. For a moment you felt like you were somewhere else; maybe in a living room, some alcoholic beverage in one of your hands as one of your favorite songs played softly in the background, and Bucky. Bucky sitting in front of you, just like that moment.

Wow. What the fuck was that?

“You apologize for my reaction, but not for what you did?” his sly grin was getting on your nerves. You preferred it when he wasn't trying to upset you at the point of smirks. You never thought that was a weapon he could use against you.

Feelings.

Ew.

No, I hate Bucky Barnes. This is unacceptable. Mind, get your shit together.

“Well, I tried to do that earlier and you didn't care. I don't know what you want from me, Barnes,” you turned your head away, nonchalantly playing with your hair to avoid seeing those light eyes again.

“You'd better leave it at that. I couldn't take that knack away from you if I tried for years,” the sigh that accompanied his words reminded you of something you'd thought of when you were in the building. His face still looked calm, but a little upset by the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Why do you care so much about that?” you asked him directly now that you had the chance.

You looked at him as he turned his head away, his eyes roaming over your face, confused.

“Are you asking me why I care about your life?”

Puzzled, you shrugged. His look almost made you think that was a weird thing to ask, but was it really? “Yes. Well…. You hate me.”

“What? I don't hate you,” Bucky shook his head, his face more contracted than before as if you'd said he had cat ears on his head. He looked almost offended.

And that was the really strange thing.

You mean, almost as long as you'd known Bucky your relationship had been based on fights and demeaning adjectives to each other. That he would say that made even less sense than you asking him why he cared so much about you. He had to be pulling your leg.

“What? But I hate you because you hate me,” you explained vaguely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That was one way of putting it; that is to say, Bucky never gave any indication that he didn't hate you. Or well…

“I don't hate you,” Bucky shrugged, his nonchalant expression confusing you that much more. “You're just a little… insufferable sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's just a synonym for hating.”

“I don't hate you,” he repeated, this time turning to look you in the eye. For a moment you felt like your breath caught in your throat and you were going to choke. “I know we argue and say a lot of things to each other, but… hating is too strong a feeling.”

“Are you really serious?” you shook your head to get the extraneous thoughts out; that wasn't the time to make a discovery, to realize you had lived a lie.

“Yes. And just to make you more sure, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you outside the Complex,” Bucky blurted out, matter-of-factly.

Your head went blank.

“WHAT?”

Several seconds stunned.

Bucky barely cracked a smile at your dumbfounded expression. It sure looked like you'd actually seen cat ears grow on his head. The things he was now saying… they didn't make sense. “You dislike the idea that much?”

“Do you want to not say things so drastically different every moment? You're changing my perception of reality.”

Bucky kept his small smile and you had to swallow hard to ignore the warmth that settled in your chest. It wasn't welcome, not at that moment. The sound of that music in the living room in your head was getting louder, as if your own mind wanted to mock your surprise.

“Well, back to your question,” Bucky moved his hands nonchalantly over his lap and your eyes followed his movement unashamedly, “I don't see why I shouldn't care about your life. We are partners, after all.”

Partners? After all you had been through? Were you partners? Did Bucky believe that?

“Are we?” you didn't try to hide the incredulous tone that accompanied your words, because it already sounded like you'd just stepped through the door into a parallel dimension.

“Sure,” Bucky nodded to emphasize your words and the calm expression on his face became more familiar with each passing second. Could it be that that had always been the reality and you had been deprived of it? “We've known each other for five years.”

“I always thought you hated me…” you mumbled to yourself, looking lost because your head recalling every fight of the last few years, since you met him, every tongue out and every exalted word, but his incredible hearing clearly picked up what you said as if you had murmured it in his ear.

“Surely it was a mistake in communication.”

“Mistake?” you frowned at his reassurance. “You always called me stubborn and childish every chance you got.”

“I thought we were annoying each other. Although, of course,” his face became a little more serious, “there were times when I knew you hated me intensely. You said really hurtful things, what was I supossed to do? That's why I never bothered to talk to you like this. You did hate me.”

“Because I thought you…! Argh.”

Bucky smiled again.

“You're the insufferable one, Barnes.”

You hated the way your head snapped back to that image in the living room, so peaceful and calm, so serene and warm, the moment his barely noticeable smile hit you again. You had barely managed to get those words out of your mouth before you felt yourself running out of breath again.

Were you asthmatic?

And why was your head suddenly filled with platonic thoughts you'd never had before in your life?

What the fuck was happening to you?

“This is the longest civilized conversation we've ever had,” Bucky spoke again, his gaze wandering somewhere in the room.

Yes, that was true. Whenever you talked for this long it was always to argue and say hurtful things to each other. But you were too surprised by everything he had said, because just yesterday he told you that he didn't want to come on this mission with you either and in his eyes you were sure you saw something like what you felt. Something of hatred, when you saw your eyes through his.

Did you just… imagine it all?

Did you think he hated you because you hated him too?

Or maybe you wanted to convince yourself that he hated you. Maybe it was easier to deal with that than with the idea that you…

Oh no.

No, no, no. There's no fucking way that's it.

But then Bucky stood up and with his smug, know-it-all, hateful look, with that sly, evil grin, like he'd always known everything, like he was squirming around enjoying your confused stare, he held out his hand to you and said:

“Shall we fix something to eat?”

Oh, no, you were screwed.

--

a/n: thank u so much for reading!! <3

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 5

pt 4 here

content: stalking (duhh) Choso goes home for Christmas, calls u nd texts u the whole time, brief mention of his brothers, mentions of readers lipstick n perfume, no use of y/n or pronouns, cursing (a.n) ahhhhh this one is one of my favorites. made me smile a lot. wrote this listening to 'Sextape- Deftones'

Taglist : @brokenscaredakira @adanfore @emojk777 @waytootiredforthisss @denypipa @broccocrab @sunaumei @morinuu @just-pure-trash @iluvreinah @integers @ziklope @killakungfu-wolfbitch @1arminsimp

Obsessive!Choso who actually enjoyed coming to class, now that you sit next to him. Enjoying it so much that he felt like his grades were somewhat getting better. Now that he actually had to show that he was writing down notes. Having to actually follow the presentations from the professor on his computer, knowing that you were sitting inches away from him. When you sat so far away- he didn't have to worry about taking notes, or even bother opening his computer- because you couldn't see him. ‘You are good for me. You make me want to better myself for you.’ he'd think, looking over at you writing on your computer. 

Obsessive!Choso who had anxiety that once this project was over- you'd run back to the same friends that will never make you smile the way he does. The people who peer pressured you into drinking and doing drugs- just because you wanted to fit in. ‘You'd never have to worry about that with me. I will never pressure you into doing something you don't want to do.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who was scared that once the excuse of being partners for this class was no longer usable. You'd leave him, you'd find someone else to entertain your afternoons, someone who will replace him. So scared that he’d grovel to the professor, asking for an extension. Telling you, “Somethings missing- I'll let you know once I've finished my part.” when you'd ask him if he was finished with it yet. Knowing he did that summary days ago, only having it on another doc so you wouldn't see that he finished it.

Obsessive!Choso who spent the last few classes he had left with you on the verge of tears. His heart was heavy in his chest, pocketing all the notes you had exchanged with him. Running out of space to put them, finding an old converse box and placing them inside. Using so much tape too quickly, trying his best to preserve the pieces of paper. Nights where he'd re-read them, feeling guilt for leaving you. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt like his brain was going to explode, the anxiety of turning in the assignment was too much. Knowing he would have to turn it in before winter break- right before he left you. ‘I want to trust you,’ he thought, your name in his mind as though he was speaking to you. ‘I really do. But it's not that I don't fully trust you. I don't trust the people you’ll be left with. The people without families- like you. Who will prey on you. Who will make you think they're just like you. But they're not, they're just trying to manipulate you-’ You scanned his face, knowing he was thinking of something else while you were talking. “You okay?” You asked, seeing him shake his thoughts away before answering, “Just thinking.” he replied, a pained smile on his face. “About?” You asked, wondering what he could be thinking that was so serious that his face looked almost agonized, while you spoke.

Obsessive!Choso who contemplated lying, but the need to tell the truth was far greater. “I keep thinking about you all alone here. Alone during Christmas.” He confessed, seeing you sigh. “I like being alone. I'll be okay, don't worry.” You assured, almost reaching for his hand to comfort him- but you knew that was too far, and definitely too soon. You didn't want to invade his personal space. Seeing him only return a forced smile to you, knowing he wasn't fully convinced of the idea from his silence. Seeing an opportunity to lift up the mood, you let out a laugh. “I'll call you everyday- Send you pictures every 5 minutes.” You joked, earning a smile from him. “So many pictures that you'll feel like you're still here.” you smiled, seeing him nod his head while smiling. 

Obsessive!Choso who wished you knew how badly he wanted you to actually do those things. Liking the way you tried to ease his worries. Pushing away the anxiety so he could relish the last few times he'd be able to see you. 

Obsessive!Choso who's following habit became worse. Now standing outside your house for what felt like hours. Watching the four walls that kept you from him in the cold wind, standing still when it rained. Even when it started snowing for the first time that season. ‘We’re together for the first snowfall. You know what that means right? True love will blossom between us.’ Seeing you through the curtainless window, watching you close a thin curtain- as though you felt him watching you. Now only letting him see your shadow. Smile on his face when you'd call him- your tone made it clear that you were grinning ear to ear the whole time, oblivious to the fact that he was just a few yards away from you. Seeing you pace in front of the window as he spoke to you. ‘I know you want me to make a move. But I’ll wait. I will wait till the moment you feel the same way I do.’ He'd think, listening to you speak. 

Obsessive!Choso who thanked whatever celestial being that was out there, for making the lights on the sidewalk go out. Watching your house without fear of someone seeing him. ‘For now-I will love you from a distance,’ he professed, a grin on his face when he thought of your name. ‘I will wait for you.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who turned in the assignment a day before he left. He was pushing it- but he did it for a reason. He did it for you, to make sure you wouldn't give up on him.

Obsessive!Choso who was about to leave- but he needed to see you, just one more time. Walking around campus trying to find you. Checking his phone seeing his plane was leaving in an hour and a half. Seeing you inside the campus cafe- book in your hand. Break had already started, the campus was almost empty, but seeing you doing what you told him you'd do. Catching up on the books you started, but never finished. ‘Even if you didn't know I was looking at you- you look effortless.’ he thought, walking towards the doors of the shop. 

Obsessive!Choso who opens the door and sees you look up at him. Smiling and mouthing a ‘hi’ at him. Walking to the small table you sat at. Not knowing what to say, shaking his head, seeing your face turn in confusion. He was just standing there- not pulling out the chair to sit. “I was- I was about to leave.” He smiled, pulling the chair across from you, rings clashing against the wooden back.

Obsessive!Choso who sat down and seemed fidgety, compared to the chivalric aura he usually kept. “And you decided you needed one last shitty coffee before leaving. Smart.” You smiled, joking in hopes he'd loosen up a little. “No-” he smiled, softening his expression. Seeing you place your book down, making sure to remember the title. He wanted to say a million things, tell you how he needed to see you. He needed to say goodbye. As though he was your friend of 10 years leaving to fight in a war, feeling like if he left you; he would never see you again. “I wanted-” He started, closing his eyes and fidgeting with his hands. “I wanted to say ‘goodbye’ to you, before I left.” Seeing you fight off a smile, your eyes blinking rapidly at his words. “That's sweet of you.” You smiled, tilting your head and seeing him look up. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt his cheeks warm at your words. “What time’s your flight?” You asked, picking up your coffee and taking a sip. “In an hour.” He exhaled, seeing you widen your eyes. “What are you still doing here? You're going to be late!” you exclaimed with a smile. ‘I know, I know. I still have to go get my bags, and call an uber to take me across town.’ He thought, hearing you say the same things he was thinking, calling your name in his mind, ‘But I don't care. I will buy another one, I will spend another fortune on a useless ticket home. I needed to see you.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who was practically pushed out the doors of the shop, standing in front of him with a look on your face as though you were waiting for something. “I'll call you.” You mumbled, looking into his eyes for the very first time. “I’ll answer.” He replied, hesitating to take a step back before walking away, looking back and seeing you wave goodbye at him through the windows. Closing his eyes, feeling his feet want to turn around, looking back once more. Already sitting back in the chair you were in when he first walked in. ‘Wait for me.’ he thought, speed walking back to his apartment.

Obsessive!Choso ran through the airport, being 15 minutes late- but he made it. Standing in the line to board the plane, looking over to a small gift shop. Seeing the cover of the book you were reading- running over and buying it as the line moved. Almost 30 dollars, but fuck. You were worth it.

Obsessive!Choso who got home to his brothers, he was happy to see them but something was missing. You were missing, spending the first night in his bed picturing you here with him. Being nice to his brothers, joking with them. Waiting for you to call him, or text him. But radio silence. Nothing. It made his head hurt, trying to fight off the thoughts of you being kidnapped. With his luck, the first night he was away from you, you probably would. Knowing how careless you were while walking home, how you didn't take any safety measures like carrying pepper spray or making sure to not take the same route home. ‘I will always make sure you're safe. Make sure you have black out curtains, make sure you don't have to walk home alone.’ Hands behind his head while looking up to the ceiling. ‘And as much as you'd fight me on this- make sure you won't walk around with your earphones in.’ The chances of someone coming up behind you and pressing a chloroform rag to your face were too great. Choso was sure that once he could, he would instill that fear into your head. The fear of someone hurting you, of how dangerous it was being so careless nowadays. The fear of someone taking you away from him.

Obsessive!Choso who opened instagram, clicking your account. His heart shattered. You had privated your account. Almost as though you heard his thoughts of how reckless you were about your privacy. Holding his phone in his hands, staring down at the screen with a mournful look plastered to it. Seeing a notification pop up at the top of his screen, from you. ‘You know me. You know me so well- you know exactly when I need you.’

Obsessive!Choso who screenshotted the notification, opening it and seeing you sent him a photo. Of you with a plate of food in your hand, furrowing your eyebrows playfully. ‘u home yet ?’ he read, closing his eyes and almost reciting a prayer in thanks. Seeing you in a black tank top with his favorite band printed onto it. The first photo you had ever sent him- a photo that only he had. That you took specifically for him. ‘You'd never send this to one of your friends. You showing me your shirt proves it.’ Saving the photo and typing, ‘since like 9pm’ quickly going to his settings and changing his wallpaper to the photo you just sent him. ‘why didnt u tell meeee’ you replied. You didn't give him a whole lot of time to reply before you called him, scolding him playfully. “You didn't want me to call you did you?” you asked, sarcasm making Choso smile. “I know it's late over there- I thought you were asleep.” He replied, doing the same thing he's done every time he's been on the phone with you. Picturing you standing in the same place you were when you took the photo. 

Obsessive!Choso who asked you what you were eating, “Leftover mac n cheese my roommate left.” you replied, almost disappointed with your own answer. ‘Cruel. How cruel of them to leave you with their leftovers. I will always make sure you eat a decent meal- that's right,’ he thought, saying your name. ‘I cook too. Just for you.’ He thought, hearing you let out a laugh when he asked, “Really?” in disappointment. “It was that or frozen pizza that's been there since I moved in.” You smiled. Your cheeks feeling fuzzy at his concern, “How's the reading going?” he asked, trying to ignore the sound of a glass breaking coming from the kitchen. “Meh, boring- the main character in this one I'm reading is annoying.” You shrugged, “As a matter of fact lemme read you one of the stupidest things he's said-” You smiled, opening the book and flipping the pages. “So, anyway, there I go again. Straying away from the point. Where was I?- like who published this? Makes me upset just thinking about how this guy is real.” you spoke, tossing it onto the counter and sighing. “The whole book is like that- it’s all just a mans troubles with women and enjoying hurting them- s’fucking stupid.” You heard him let out a stifled laugh, “It's not funny-” You smiled, hearing him keep laughing, “First book I want to finish and it's bullshit.” you exclaimed, hearing him settle down. “What book is it?” He asked, trying to stop his laugh. ‘I know what book it is. It's the same one you were reading in the cafe. The same one I started reading on the flight.’

Obsessive!Choso who smiled when you said the title. Closing his eyes in triumph. “Why did you get so far reading it?” he asked, knowing that the first page was shocking enough. “I thought- it was a book of someone who gets their karma back- becomes a better person- blah blah blah. But nope, apparently there's 2 more books. Of the same man, with the same troubles.” You replied, taking a bite from your plate and leaning against the counter. Furrowing your eyebrows when you fully processed his question. “How'd you know I was so far into reading it?” you asked, your tone indicated it wasn't a serious question. But it made Choso’s heart drop. “I saw how little pages you had left at the cafe.” He lied. Knowing he had read that page in the book earlier. Not fully read- more skimmed the pages.

Obsessive!Choso who felt relief when he heard you inhale. “I didn't know you noticed such small details like that.” You commented, holding the phone with your shoulder as you took another bite. Choso hummed at your response, “Anyway- don't talk to me about that book.” You grinned, hearing Choso exhale with a smile. You were about to ask him how his brothers were, starting the sentence but hearing a door slam open. “Choso- Yuuji broke moms vase!” You heard a teasing tone through the phone, “I did not!” you heard bickering, Choso mumbled a quick, “I gotta go-” placing his phone on his desk, not hanging up. Hearing Choso scold his younger brother before ending the call. Smiling at how much his tone changed when speaking to his brothers- more authoritative and demanding.

Obsessive!Choso who felt horrible for hanging up the way he did, thinking of how disrespectful it was. The argument that sparked between his brothers ran long, all of them blaming each other for breaking this vase. Which, according to Choso, was priceless. Texting you a quick, ‘sorry i didnt call u back, they just settled down.’ Seeing the message go from delivered to seen. ‘You were waiting for me?’

Obsessive!Choso whose heart felt tight when he read your reply. ‘was just abt to go to bed’ his fingers typing quickly, ‘im sorry, i'll text you in the morning?’ seeing the typing bubble pop up the minute he pressed send. ‘kk talk to u tmmrw. goodnightttt :)’ he smiled at your reply, ‘goodnight :]’ he replied, wanting to send you a <3 heart but he restrained himself.

Obsessive!Choso who texted you every morning, making you smile at his sweet ‘good morning’ texts. Knowing he'd be busy with his brothers so you didn't call him, but your phone was stuck onto your hand, replying to his texts at lightning speed. ‘call me when ur not busy okay?’ you'd ask, making Choso giggle like those words were some kind of great attempt at flirting. And he would- he'd try to. Somehow always being interrupted by his brothers- remembering why he chose a college so far away. But the 2 am calls when he'd hear your voice, quiet and sleepy. They were worth it. Knowing you'd keep yourself awake just to talk to him. The constant pinging from his phone and Choso leaving the room to call you made his brothers suspicious. Even more so when one of them caught a glimpse at his wallpaper, seeing a photo of you- taking his phone and passing it around. Teasing him and asking if he finally found a partner. 

Obsessive!Choso who died of embarrassment when he was talking to you on the phone, one of his brothers knocked loudly at his door. Jumping when he heard the youngest pound at the locked door. “Choso! Open up-” he shouted, twisting the doorknob as he heard you laugh. “Are you talking to your lover?!” he teased through the door, only earning you to laugh louder. Saying ‘Hold on’ Before muting the call, standing up and opening the door to see them huddled to hear what he was saying. A dark aura around him when he saw them, “What is wrong with you.” He stated, rather than asked, seeing them look up at him. “I needed 20 bucks…?” the youngest asked, Choso reaching into his pocket and tossing the money at him. Closing the door and locking it again. Coming back to the phone and pressing the unmute button. 

Obsessive!Choso mumbled, “Sorry.” hoping you didn't hear what just happened. Closing his eyes as you let out a small laugh, “Am i crazy or did your brother just call me your ‘lover’?” you asked, a smile evident in your tone. “You heard that?” he grimaced, hearing you laugh. “Yes. Yes, I did.” You answered, “What are you telling your brothers that they think I'm your ‘lover’, Choso?” You teased, hearing him exhale with a smile. ‘You're teasing me? Bad. This is bad.’ he thought, making his heart beat quickly in a good way, and in a bad way. Knowing that he would have to fight off your attempts at flirting with a stick. ‘So very tempting. Too tempting. But it's too soon. I want us to be good friends before I call you mine. But I am already yours. You don't have to worry about that.’

Obsessive!Choso who shut his eyes tightly, instantly regretting the words that came out of his mouth. “I haven't said a thing, but they noticed the texting. And the secret phone calls.” The silence showed him the disappointment you felt. Knowing you wanted to hear how he told them all about you. “Oh! Well I mean anyone would be suspicious of that!” you exclaimed, it got awkward. You felt embarrassed. Thinking that the attempt to make a move flew over his head, or he didn't feel the same. But all the signs? All the longing looks, all the subtle comments he’d say that made you realize he paid more attention to your words than you thought. To your actions, his eyes scan your face when you’d change the color of your lipstick, or when you'd wear a different perfume. Face full of confusion till he noticed what was different- you thought he was into you. ‘Maybe he is- and he just sucks at seeing when someone is flirting with him.’ You'd assure yourself.

Obsessive!Choso who kept saving the pictures you sent him. Of your coffee, of your poetry, of your outfits for the day, sending him a photo of the snow. Pictures of anything you could find, Choso would always smile at them. The ability of scrolling through your instagram wasn't sorely missed. Now being able to see photos of you that you took just for him. And saving every single one. Smile on your lips whenever you'd see he ‘loved an image’ before replying to your messages. 

Obsessive!Choso who was on his phone, refreshing your instagram page over and over again. Switching to his personal account, an account he made in highschool. Not even posted anything, less than 100 followers. Seeing a small red circle at the top right corner. Someone requested to follow him. Opening the notification and seeing you. Slack jawed when he saw the sight. Screenshotting quickly and accepting it. Requesting you back, seeing an incoming call flash onto the screen. “Hey.” he smiled at your words, gulping his excitement. “I was hoping you'd answer.” You continued, ‘God, you are everything to me.’ he thought.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like you were finally letting him in. “I know I told you I didn't really like social media.” You started, ‘Yes. Tell me the truth.’ he thought, picturing you in your bedroom, closing your eyes in embarrassment. “I lied a little- I just post a lot of bullshit, nd i was embarrassed you'd see that and think ‘Jesus this person is so annoyinnggg’ that's why!” You laughed, making Choso smile. “Well let me see-” he said, putting the phone on speaker and scrolling through your account, like he craved doing for the past few days. Making approving sounds as you told him to look away. 

Obsessive!Choso who called your name, grinning ear to ear, “Yes Choso?” You replied, mimicking the serious tone he called your name in. He felt it again, he felt his mouth speak before his brain could catch up. “Don’t ever worry about me finding you annoying, ever. Okay?” opening his eyes in shock at his own words. Only making you mute yourself to let out an over excited laugh, cheeks in pain from how hard you were smiling. Unmuting yourself and having the courage to say something. “Promise?” You let out, fiddling with the drawstring of your hoodie. “I promise.” He replied, making you exhale harshly. “I want to punch you in the face.” You laughed, making him laugh through his nose. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, knowing the answer. “No. You didn't, and that's why!” You exclaimed. Rolling to lay on your stomach, shoving your face into your pillows. 

Obsessive!Choso knew that his attempts at brushing off your flirting weren't doing anything. He knew that the harder he'd try, the harder it would be to not flirt back. 

Obsessive!Choso who answered your request for a facetime, doing his hair in the bathroom. Seeing you pop up on his phone. “Heyyy” You started, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw him getting ready, “Woahhh, you got a date?” You smiled, seeing him look at you with a grimace. ‘Jealousy. Don't be possessive, I would never commit adultery. I only have eyes for you.’ he thought, scrambling with his hands before answering, “I have family photos with my brothers today. Thus-” He looked at the camera, his hands pointing to the ugly christmas sweater he was wearing. “This monstrosity.” He finished, making you laugh. Taking 3 pictures of him to tease him, but it didn't work. ‘You want pictures of me? Do you use them as your wallpaper too?’ He only smiled at the sudden flashes of white from his phone. “Send me pictures of the photos. I need to see the Kamo family in matching sweaters.” You smiled, picturing them all in the awkward style that was used in the 90’s. He squinted his eyes, already picturing your reaction when you'd see the photos. “I’ll think about it.” sarcasm filled his tone as he fought off a smile. 

Obsessive!Choso who put on his jewelry, all while you were propped up and watching him. “When do you get back again?” You asked, seeing him look at you whilst fixing his rings. “I was planning on getting back on the 6th of January. But I was thinking-” He smiled, “Of coming back on the 29th.” Picking up his phone and seeing you smile. “Good idea. Its been fucking boring out here. I forgot how many unstimulating people there were at this school.” You exhaled. ‘Say you miss me. Say it.’  

Obsessive!Choso who saw you post a photo of a book earlier. “And the reading?” he asked, putting his shoes on. “It's a little better- I picked up Gone Girl.” you exhaled, “Good choice.” He grinned, seeing you exasperate. “Controversial- I know, but I kinda see myself in the main character?” You confessed, making a chill run down his spine. “Not the whole- murdering and framing someone for crimes-” you laughed, hearing his silence. “I mean in the way she thinks, the way she connects things. It's intriguing.” You clarified. Making him smile, “It was a very good book. The movie too.” He smiled, picturing you being as insane as the main character, “God I loved the movie.” You trailed off. ‘This was fate. Are you telling me you feel the same way I do? In your own way- but still.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who saw you started posting two plates on a table in a restaurant. Wondering who you could be with. ‘All your friends are out of town, roommates too. Who are you with?’ wanting to ask you, but that wasn't his place. Not just yet. But that didn't stop him from scouring your following list, going through your tags. Trying to find who this person you were with was. But not even a hint was dropped.

Obsessive!Choso who sent you the photos of his family, as awkward as you pictured them. Noticing there weren't any parents, just him and his younger brothers. Calling him immediately and laughing, “Choso- you all look adorable.” You laughed, making him blush. “This is my new laptop wallpaper, I love these pictures.” You smiled, “Nope, that's not necessary.” Choso smiled, his tone full of embarrassment., But also feeling his chest warm. ‘Making me your screensaver, and telling me you love the pictures I'm in? Can we get married already?’

Obsessive!Choso who received a picture of your laptop, you acted on your words. The photo was your screensaver, not just on your computer- but on your phone as well. Your attempts to tease him only made him think that you love him as much as he did. And that's all you did, feed into his delusions and only fuel the fire that was burning inside of him since the first day he saw you. You felt like this break with him being gone was necessary. Necessary to step back and see how you really feel for him. Remembering you've only been friends with him for- if you were being generous, was a month and a half. True, you found him intriguing before you became friends. But you didn't want to risk it. Ruin a friendship with someone like him. Slowly reeling in the line you had thrown at him, becoming open to the idea of him being just a friend. 

Obsessive!Choso was on the flight home, a week earlier than he had planned- but Christmas was over. And he didn't want to be away from you any longer. Leaving his bags at his apartment before walking onto campus, small piles of snow around the doors of the coffee shop. realizing how much it really snowed. Reaching his hand for the door knob but pulling away when he hears his name being called. Turning around to see you, speed walking to him. The big coat you wore made you look like a walking marshmallow. Smiling when he saw your face, thinking of how much he longed to see you. The pixelated facetimes and photos you sent him not coming close to showing how beautiful you looked face to face. 

Obsessive!Choso who blinked and somehow opened his eyes to see the top of your head, your cheek pressed to his chest. Your arms around him, hands hesitating to hug you back at the shock. Feeling his hands rest on your puffy jacket, almost nervous to touch you. Nestling your face to his chest and murmuring “Missed you.” Pulling away and looking up at him with a smile, cold weather making his nose pinkish. “I missed you too.” He smiled, almost gulping for breath. Seeing you take a step back, smile on your face. Opening your mouth to say something, “There you are, I was wondering where you ran off to.” you were interrupted. A man coming up behind you, hand on your waist- almost pulling you away from Choso. Watching you lean into his touch- 'Um?' calling your name in his head, almost in anger. ‘Who the fuck is this?’ Seeing you smile while looking over at him. 

Obsessive!Choso who hid his irritation well, jaw clenched and eyebrows threatening to furrow. Seeing you scramble for words, “How rude of me- This is my good friend Choso I was telling you about.” You smiled, looking at the man who looked Choso up and down. Just with that, Choso knew this guy was using you. Just by looking at him. ‘I didn't know you were into pretty boys, older too.’ he thought, watching your eyes sparkle when you looked over at him. “And this- This is my… friend, Theo.” You beamed. ‘You didn't wait for me. But you also didn't give up on me completely. The hesitation at calling him your 'friend' tells me that.’ silence filling the air as you smiled, waiting for them to greet each other. “We were about to go to dinner, do you want to join us, Choso?” You asked. Seeing your 'friend' look over to you with a certain look on his face you only see in men who were expecting something more from a person. Sickeningly sweet smile on Choso's face when he heard 'Theo' speak, “He just got off a flight babe-” He started. ‘Babe. Babe? What an uncreative and unimaginative thing to call you, no wonder you invited me. He must not make you laugh, but that's what I'm here for. I'm here to make you see that this 'Theo' is nothing but a place holder. A place holder for me.'

-

pt 6 here

LET ME KNOW IF U WANNA BE TAGGED PLS ITS MY FAVORITE PART ( if u wanna be tagged without commenting pls just say sum like 'tag me continually' i don't wanna @ someone who doesn't wanna be @ ykno?

IM SORRY I ADDED ANOTHER MAN BUT PLS BE PATIENT I HAVE PLANS FOR THIS.......I wrote this today and was blushing and kicking my feet the whole time. Started at 12 pm, and finished at 3 am. I love doing this. alr writing the next part hehe

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

❤️

You're tired of hearing about Eddie's crushes, hiding your feelings for him. Sick of feeling second best, you decide to move on.

Beer, a pool, and a very handsome Steve Harrington happens. Eddie isn't so thrilled about the Steve part.

Just a lil two parter to get back into writing

Part one

Eventual Eddie Munson x Reader

Steve Harrington x Reader

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work

❤️

It was a rainy Tuesday when Eddie broke your heart. Unknowingly, but it was broken all the same.

He had came to the Hellfire table in a suspiciously good mood. Beaming smile, eyes shining with happiness.

Turns out he had ran into Jessie who was his newest crush, she was the coolest, most badass babe on the planet according to Eddie.

This had been repeated constantly for the last few weeks and usually you were able to smile politely, pretend you weren't dying inside hearing him talk about his dream girl.

It had been this way for a year now, through multiple crushes, a few hook ups and one near potential girlfriend for Eddie, so you could push yourself to be happy for him one more time right?

No, today it was like your heart finally had enough, a deep ache was building inside you and felt like all the pain was exploding inside of you all at once.

Tears pool in your eyes and you catch the sympathetic look that Dustin throws in your direction. It's enough to sober you up instantly.

You didn't want to constantly pine over Eddie when he didn't want you, it was agony being so completely smitten with someone who noticed every woman but you.

It was like something in you just snapped and you had enough.

"Hey princess, you okay?" Eddie's voice breaks through your reverie and you startle a little as he peers at you intently with his big brown eyes.

His hand is on yours and your whole body feels alight at just his slightest touch, it was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings, Eddie could be extremely perceptive when he wanted to be.

You needed to get over how you felt about him and soon, because you were sick of the constant heartache, second guessing yourself and feeling second best to Eddie's crushes.

Moving on would be a good thing. You couldn't take it if Eddie ever found out how you felt about him, embarrassment burns inside of you just thinking about his reaction, and how awkward Hellfire would be due to his rejection.

No, it was best for everyone if you found a way to get over Eddie.

❤️

Normally you didn't go to parties, especially not parties on a school night. However, there was a small part of you that wanted a change, to have some fun and let loose.

One of Jason's friends was throwing a party at his house, there was beer kegs, wine coolers and the biggest pool you had ever seen in your life.

Eddie was at the party to do his usual dealings, he catches your eye and looks stunned for a brief second.

"What are you doing here sweetheart? Parties aren't usually your thing?" you shrug and grab a bottle of beer.

"Just wanted a change of scenery I guess" it's then you notice that Jessie was also at the party and Eddie had noticed judging by the way his eyes light up.

Your heart sinks and you're about to make an escape until Eddie tugs on your hand.

"Hey, maybe you should stick close to me incase one of Jason's dipshit friends tries anything" you smile, touched at his protectiveness but you know deep down he'd rather be talking to Jessie than trailing after you all night.

"It's okay. I saw Robin by the pool so I'll go and chat to her for a bit" he's about to say something else but Jessie comes over and takes up all of his attention.

Yup, it's definitely your time to leave. There's no way you wanted to be around for Eddie making googly eyes at Jessie.

❤️

Between the pounding music, Eddie and Jessie and the fact you've lost Robin in the crowd, it was safe to say that the first hour of the party was a bust.

By the second hour you had gotten involved in a game of beer pong with Robin, Steve, Vickie and a few others.

At first you were kinda wary hanging out with Steve but you soon found out that he had changed so much from the King Steve of a few years ago.

He's kind, funny and kind, genuinely a good guy and him and Robin are like two peas in a pod. Platonic besties with a capital P she tells you and Vickie.

It's nice hanging out with them because everytime you see Jessie and Eddie together it needled at the ache in your heart.

Eddie joins in at one point but seems tense.

"Why are hanging out with Harrington?'' he hisses under his breath and you scowl.

"He's really nice" Eddie scoffs at this.

"Preppy, rich, douchebag? he's seen dating total babes every few weeks." you stiffen.

"Of course so why would he be seen with me right?" you ask heatedly and his eyes widen.

"That's not what I meant... You're beautiful sweetheart..." yeah but just a friend you finish his sentence in your head.

"Just forget it Eddie, go back to Jessie" you hurry away from him and curse yourself for getting so upset.

Steve notices and asks if you want to hang out in the pool.

It's quieter outside than in the house, people are just lazing around lightly buzzed, lost in their own conversations.

Steve makes you laugh by jumping in the pool fully clothed, he lets out a yell when he hits the water.

"Fuck, its freezing" and you swear you hear Robin calling him a dingus. The thought makes you smile.

"So Munson huh?" Steve asks gently and your smile vanishes.

"Mmm, tonight was my big plan to get over him. Didn't work out so well" There's a brief moment of silence that's broken when Steve takes you by surprise and you're suddenly in the pool beside him, soaking wet and torn between laughter and exasperation.

"Steve!" you huff out and his answering smile tugs at your heart. There's also something you didn't expect, a spark.

He moves closer to you and it's like the two of you are magnets. Steve strokes your cheek and his lips meet yours.

It's nice, it's really really nice and you moan softly as Steve gently tugs at your lower lip, deepens the kiss and pulls you even closer.

Steve pulls away and you both exchange a secret, shy smile at the moment you had.

You kiss him again and this time it's a little more hot and heavy. Only this time when you come apart, you're not alone.

Eddie has just come outside. He's staring at you and Steve, his expression blank but you notice something stirring deep in his eyes, a flash of emotion that you can't place.

Then it's gone and he storms back inside..

🖤

[leviismybby]

I felt like writing angst today so I wrote angst......there's slight fluff tho.

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

"What is she like?" The girl asks kicking her feet as Levi brushes her hair. A child's curiosity was normal but Levi hesitated to answer that question.

"She is....very pretty. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, she loved to take care of others and always shared everything with everyone. Her favorite food is apple pie and she has a strong disliking for chocolate. And she is strong, very strong..." Levi feels his throat tighten, eyes burning as tears threaten to fall from them.

"When will I meet her papa?" That question sends an arrow straight through Levi's heart, he swallows the bitter sadness with his words.

"You can't buttercup. She is far far away but all you need to know is that your mother loves us very much." There's still a part of him that's in denial. That one part that hopes for a miracle one day where you show up at the door to hug him and your daughter tightly.

However, a large part of him knows that it's not happening because he was there that day. He saw your bloody body fall to the ground right in front of his eyes and the world around Levi hasn't moved since.

His only light was him coming back to find his daughter peacefully sleeping in her crib. It was that night that Levi cried curdling the baby in his hands.

Levi finished braiding his daughter's hair and let her get off his lap. She is five now and the world is starting to look more and more appealing to her. Without titans and fear it's safe to live in now and he is happy that his daughter will grow up to have a normal childhood.

But a hole will always be there, one nothing else can fill. He remembers others telling him that it's been years, that he should move on from that day the world took you from him.

And now Levi thinks that they are all stupid and selfish for telling him such a thing. You were the first person to let him know what love is, how much purpose it can bring to someone's life. You're the mother of his child and still his wife.

He hasn't taken off the wedding ring yet, it never slipped from his finger even when those thunder spears exploded. The sleep Levi got after that, he dreamed of you and although he knew it was selfish, he wished that Hange had just let him sleep so that he can see you again.

But as with anything, Levi kept moving, not for himself but for his own child. She didn't even flinch seeing her father's new scars and Levi knows that she got that none judgment from you.

"Alright princess." He says kneeling down to help her dress up her shoes. "Let's go see what Gabi and Falco have planned." She takes his hand smiling as they walk out of the house.

Levi looks up at the sky a smile forming on his thin lips. "Hope that you are watching. She has grown, hasn't she? She has got your eyes and curiosity you know? Quite the little troublemaker but that one she has from me I think. I love you, darling, I'll see you again someday."

He looks onward wiping the tear that escapes his eye as he watches his daughter skip happily on her feet. His life might not be a fairytale but he will give everything it takes for his daughters to be one.

[fallinforerling]

LOVE ISN'T ETERNAL. PART 6 - jb

A/N: I enjoyed SO much writing this, you have no idea. I hope all you love it was much as I did. See you next update! Also, I strongly recommed to listen to the song right when I marked it :) Makes it all better. AND, this is the last part without Jude in it, so prepare!

ೃ⁀➷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

ೃ⁀➷ series/jude's taglist : ̗̀➛ my other taglists

: ̗̀➛ REQUESTS ARE OPEN !

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˛ * 。° 。 •˚.・。.・゜✭・.⋆·˚ ༘ .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・

“You can't keep going like this, honey” Mia said after you calmed down and allowed yourself to tell the whole phone call at your pace. “You need to get out of this city for a couple of days, clear your mind, go no phone and then come back to your normal life.”

 “Mia's right. I haven't seen you this stressed and emotionally drained... ever. This isn't you. I won't allow one of my best friends to lose herself to a breakup.” Nikki said, giving you your second cup of tea of the morning.

“I know...” You didn't have the energy to think about anything else other than how much your life had changed in so little time. “But where can I go? What you guys have in mind sounds like a spiritual retirement.”

“Well... I know someone who owns a very nice cabin in Scotland...” Nikki shrugged when both you and Mia raised your eyebrows, questioning once again what was that about. “I make a lot of friends, okay?”

“We know” Mia shortly laughed, directing her full attention back to you. “So, what do you say? Does a week in Scotland sound like a bad or a good idea?”

“At this point?” You said, pointing at yourself: you had a cover over your shoulders, a cup of tea in your hands, and a puffy face thanks to all the crying. “Anything is better than this”

“You drink that, I'll make some calls” At this point, Nikki's phone seemed to have all the wonders of the world inside of it.

“One day, I'll be able to figure out how she does all of this,” Mia whispered, grabbing your cup. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Soup?” Besides the anger and sadness that came back with force, the three of you were still hungover. You felt like your head was about to explode from all the pressure.

“You got it”

While she was in the kitchen and Nikki was out on the balcony doing who knows what, you allowed yourself to go back to your room. Your phone was now charging on the night stand. Better to keep ignoring it.

The room was still messy, and even though you really wanted to go back to bed, cleaning seemed like a better option to keep your mind occupied.

The clothes were all dirty so you instantly dropped them inside your basket, reminding yourself to wash them later. Then you made sure all of the other things were at their place before making the bed. The bathroom was the nastiest part (lots of makeup wipes, cotton pads full of micellar water and a wet sink) but you cleaned it all faster than expected.

When you came back to the bedroom, you noticed your phone was buzzing again. It sure wasn't IG, since you silenced it. You came closer, relieved and concerned when you saw Jobe's name on the screen.

“Please God, some peace...” You said before picking up. “Hey?”

“Hey! Uh, I don't want to be, like, intrusive or anything but... Do you know what's going on with Jude?"

“Uhm... Be more specific.” Because you could think of a hundred+ things going on with that man right now.

“He's throwing a tantrum… I mean, not like a toddler type of tantrum, but he's fuming! He asked me for my phone and didn't want to say what for. I said no, of course, and then he got even worse. He's saying something about needing some way to communicate…” His voice became a whisper. “Would I be wrong assuming that is definitely something about you?”

You let out a sigh, feeling drained. Again.

“Yeah, it's about me” You sat on your vanity, rubbing your eyes. “Look, I went out yesterday with some friends and I happened to run into Gio… We took a photo and then some stupid people filmed us dancing. It went a bit viral, I think. I don't really know. Jude saw it and called me all morning until I picked up after waking up. He was asking me why I was with Gio and why I didn't tell him”

“That's insane, mate. What the fuck, he has no right to do that”

“I know! Well, he was calling to question me. It seems like some people are assuming that I'm Gio's girlfriend. I don't know if it's about his man ego getting hurt by me being mistaken for his teammate's girl or what, but I don't want to know anything else about it. So I blocked him.”

“Well, fuck me! His audacity has me speechless…”

“I don't want this to turn into a big thing. Just... Let him throw his little tantrum, he's going back to Dortmund in a few days anyways. He has to forget about it”

“You sound like the one that broke up with him, that's so funny” He laughed quietly, probably not wanting to call the attention of his brother. “Okay, I'll try to keep him on track”

“Thanks... And, Jobe?” You said, feeling more than grateful for having him.

“Yeah?”

“I won't have my phone this week, so don't get worried if you don't hear from me, okay?”

“Okay… Uh, I know this is stupid to ask, but are you still coming to my match? I'll understand if you don't. It's completely understandable with all that's happening”

A part of you wanted to say no, but it was Jobe. It wasn't fair to do that to him. Maybe Jude wasn't going to attend. You were praying for that.

“Of course I'll go. I promised you, and you know how much I want to see you play”

“Thank you” You could tell he was happy about you saying yes. “Talk to you in a week, then?”

“One hundred percent”

After the call ended, you just sat there. Jobe was like your little brother, and maybe his actual brother was the biggest asshole you'd ever known, but that didn't mean you were about to run away from everything that had to do with him.

You weren't a coward. Hopefully.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

song recommendation: cardigan - taylor swift

Leaving your phone at the bottom of your bag and not paying any attention to it was easier than expected. Nikki managed to book flights to Glasgow that same night, and while they were gone to make their bags, you stayed to clean up a little bit more the whole apartment. You were leaving for a week. You noticed that it was the first time that you did your bags in months where your destiny wasn’t Dortmund. 

You grabbed comfy clothes, your laptop and tablet (you still worked from home), and some shower products. Most of your skincare was in the bathroom, but some were in the vanity. While looking for some travel-sized ones, you stumbled across a particular box in the bottom drawer. 

It was blue, medium-sized and simple. Your hand flew directly to your neck, where a necklace rested comfortably. The jade stone was cold, as cold as you felt. You didn’t even realized you were still wearing it, but of course, you never took it off since the day it was gifted to you.

Since Jude gifted it to you. 

You thought about taking it off, but you stopped mid-way. You didn’t feel ready to do something like that just yet. That necklace alone meant so much to you. 

The way he gave it to you wasn’t absurdly romantic, but rather sweet. It was familiar. You were laying in bed, just looking at each other; then he got up and grabbed the little box from his closet. He said he saw it and immediately thought of you; of how well it went with your skin tone and than he was sorry for not giving it to you in a more romantic way. You loved it from the moment you saw it. You used to feel so happy when you remembered it was hanging from your neck.

Now all you feel is a deeply nostalgic feeling that makes the skin around the pendant burn.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Nikki's friend was kind enough to lend you a beautiful cabin in the woods for the week. He (or she, you weren't even sure of their gender) even sent a butler to pick you up from the airport and drive you around town so you could buy groceries. The drive to the cabin, he said, was almost two hours, but the whole scenario- the woods, the lake, the little animals running around- made it easier for all of you to not care about that. It was perfect.

The cabin was even better. It wasn’t exaggeratedly large, so you wouldn’t be bumping into each other the entire time but neither separated if didn't want to, which was good. You needed the space to think and heal alone, even if you loved the company of your friends. 

The first two days were just you hanging around the house, making food, taking walks around the woods- Mia even discovered a tiny lake near the cabin, and lots of bonfires. It felt therapeutic to not know what was going on in the real world outside that cabin surrounded by kilometers of trees. 

You don’t remember the last time you enjoyed nature and being (partially) alone this much. You also spent a lot of time alone in the woods or by the lake; you allowed yourself to cry, to mourn Jude, to blame him and then forgiving him. You didn’t forgave him for how much you were suffering the breakup, not just yet, that was still fresh. But you forgave him for breaking up with you, he had all the right to that. 

You remembered all the good times you had together, the bad ones, the regular ones. It was a normal relationship even if you didn’t get to post his face on your social media, or if your dates had to be more private than normal people were used to. You loved him. You still did, even if you hated the idea of being weak because of your love. 

And then, after all those days that you used to go through all the stages of a breakup, something you didn’t allow yourself to do the past three weeks, you were ready to let him go. To accept that your boyfriend, the one that loved you and appeared to be your soulmate, died the night he broked your heart. And that was okay. 

So on the last afternoon before the butler came back for the three of you, you took a final walk through the woods and into the lake, and like physically detaching Jude from your heart, you took off the necklace and throwed it into the water.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * TAGLIST

@mentalbaddie | @taintedstranger | @mrs-dasilvasantoss @mbapbaesluvr | @erensfavgirly | @cinderellawithashoe @yoitsmo07

[peaky-shelby]

Bulldog | Mbappe x Reader

Requested by @mrs-bellingham : "I’m not saying it was a good idea, I'm saying I snapped"

Writer's note: originally requested for Virgil Van Dijk, thank you for letting my change it into kylian again and sorry. For future requests if anyone is wondering for now I'm writing for Kylian, neymar, hakimi, Bellingham and Mason. You can always request with other players but it just isn't certain I'll do it. Love you all xx

Maybe it’s not that bad, I thought to myself. Pacing back and forth on the changing rooms, if it were any other time I would hate being there. The strong perfumes always made my stomach twist and turn I hated it but right now something else was making my stomach twist and turn which I hated even more. I rubbed my face with my hands, like it was a lamp and I could wish for time to get back and I could stop him from doing what he did but time seemed to be remaining painfully slow and moving forward. I was panicking, exaggerating, making a bid deal out of nothing-

“We have a problem-“ Kylian walked in behind you, opening and closing the door quickly, pretty much ruining all my hopes that it was all in my head. I turned around to face him, holding my hands in fists. I had been dealing with the drama that came with being friends with Kylian pretty well, I had accepted it, along with the constant following of the paparazzi. When you started dating you both tried to kept it a secret for as long as he could and it seemed to be working out until-

“You punched the fucking guy in the face-“

“I know!” he said, raising his hands, like he was being called by a referee for a foul.

“Oh you know?” I asked, mocking him “that sucks because I would prefer for you to tell me you were hypnotized or something.”

“How would that be better?”

You reached down at one of the benches, snatching the closest thing you could find which was a psg shirt and threw at him “how Is just punching a guy out of the blue a better idea?”

“Hey!” he held the shirt in his hands “I never said it was a good idea. I’m saying I snapped!”

“couldn’t you have snapped at a wall or something?”

“They guy was taking pictures of us! Why are you mad at me?” he yelled back. I took a deep breath in and sat on the nearest bench, holding my head in my hands, fearing that it might even explode. I heard him sighing and cursing until he sat next to me. I couldn’t even look at him, I was feeling all sorts of emotions, fearing for tomorrow’s headlines and articles, the impact it would have on his public figure. “I’m sorry” he mumbled; I knew how hard it must have been for him to do. I titled my head to look at him, he was staring at the floor. “I thought I could get the camera and the pictures would never be leaked- I was trying to save it as much as I could-“

“Famous last words.” I joked and looked away again.

“I know what these pictures of us making out seeing the light is gonna do to you, I wanted to stop him.”

“You broke his jaw.”

“That’s-“ he searched for the right words “I didn’t break his jaw. He is overreacting. I’ve had tougher hits on the field”

“I’m pretty sure he was bleeding-“

“The floors are red you wouldn’t know if he was bleeding-“

You looked a him shocked about to laugh “That’s what you’re going with?”

“Listen he’ll be fine, ok? Will this be a story? Maybe-“

“Definitely” you corrected.

“Probably. Will I need to pay for his doctor appointments in the near future?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do I regret it?”

“I hope so!”

“No.” he answered bluntly. I was taken aback by how serious he looked, like he was making a confession that if it came down to it, he would do it again. “Hey look at me.” He placed his hand on my cheek, his touch was doing things to me without even trying. He pushed my hair behind my ear, smiling because he knew that always made me weak. “That guy said things about you, he took inappropriate pictures of you without your permission, I’d knock him out again if I had to.” I couldn’t help but feel love him in that moment, the way his eyes fell on me sent shivers down my spine. Like I was his and only his and no one else was allowed to even look at me without his permission. I leaned in and kissed him, a sloppy kiss, that would give him the reward he deserved for protecting me.

“My loyal bulldog, biting anyone that gets close enough.” You whispered in his lips.

“Damn right!” he replied, pushing me back on the bench so he’d be laying on top of me, kissing my cheek and then my neck, leaving a small bite on my skin, that made me laugh. “Sometimes biting you too” he said, making me laugh even more. He slipped his hands under my shirt, his hands on my skin finding their place on my waist. Getting caught on the hallways obviously taught us nothing because we were about to finish what we started and we would have if the door didn’t crack open, making us both jump on our feet.

“OH!” said Neymar disgusted closing his eyes “You guys wanna get a room or something- for fuck’s shake.” He opened his eyes slowly, making sure no one was naked “Coach wants to see you. Now.”

“Merde…” He looked at me, a sympathetic expression on his eyes and gave me one last kiss “I love you.”

“Love you too Kyky.”

“Yeah, have fun in there-“ he patted Kylian In the back, while I stood back watching him leave. I looked up at Ney, worried.

“Is he gonna be ok?”

“He’s gonna get a good yelling but he will survive don’t worry.” He looked at me smiling “are you gonna be, ok?”

“Sure.”

I went home without him and waited for him to return. Turns out he had been benched for next game, coach wasn’t happy for his reaction at all but Kylian seemed pretty chilled, despite the consequences. We cuddled on the couch, my head on his chest, his hand messing with my hair while I slowly fell asleep in his arms. “Thank you” I whispered, getting his attention. He looked down at me confused and I raised my head as much as I could to look at him “I didn’t say thank you or sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, almost laughing at my sudden gratitude or apology.

“For what you did for me.”

He smiled, his hand slipping on my cheek, his entire palm covering it “No need to thank me. You said it yourself I’m your bulldog. I was born to protect you.”

My face fell back on his chest, while I blushed and I hugged him as tight as I could, making sure he wasn’t just a dream.

[punsmaster69]

21/JAN/20XX

[There are a few random scribbles on the top of the page.]

——

whoops.

i meant to write sooner, but that's all i got down before conkin' out, apparently.

me and tori went for a picnic by the river. it's a short ways out of town, not super far given we're located near the edge of it.

notably, there's no ice floating in this river.

at some point i had leaned over to look at the glistening water, sparkling in the sun, when i realized something i definitely should have noticed sooner.

albeit small and slightly faint,

i have a scar on my face.

"You did not realize?"

"no. how long's it been there?"

"Since the whole 'explosion' incident that kicked this issue into high gear."

"i don't know how i didn't see it."

"Well... it is true that you're only recently regaining full vision back, is it not?"

"yeah."

i tossed a rock into the water, the ripples making my reflection warble.

"And you are certainly not the type to look in the mirror often."

"true."

"That, and it really is quite faint - hardly noticeable, in honesty."

toriel took my face in her hand and gently moved it to see the scar closer.

"I think it may even disappear entirely, as long as you don't repeat the injury."

"don't plan on exploding any more eyes."

"I don't imagine the last one was exactly planned either..."

"fair point."

"i'll try not to recreate it again."

she dropped her hand from my face, letting it fall onto my hand instead.

"didn't expect to start the new year with a badass scar."

"I do not think 'badass' is the right word."

"what, you think it looks lame or somethin'?"

"The scar is caused from your lack of self-expression. That is not a very 'badass' story behind-"

"it's technically caused by something 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 by the self-expression thing."

"That is essentially the same thing."

"no. i can just say 'my eye exploded' and it'll be true."

"And if they ask why?"

"uhhh."

"i'll tell 'em it's a skeleton thing."

"A skeleton thing?"

"yup."

"there's a lot of skeleton-specific things, y'know."

"it's believable."

"Could you give me an example?"

"of my skeleton things?"

i fought a short internal battle and immediately lost.

"whoa. right here?"

"you wanna see my skeleton thing?"

tori cackled.

"That is not what I meant, you bonehead."

"don't know that have one of 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦.."

"?"

"A b-"

she covered her mouth when she realized and smacked my shoulder.

"Dirty!"

"you're the one who asked to see-"

"Stop this!"

"Scandalous skeleton."

"like i said. you definitely asked."

i reached over, grabbing her bottle of tea and taking a sip.

"not like i've really got one."

"..That is my bottle."

"yup."

"You're aware?"

"yup."

"Then why?"

"food always tastes better taken from someone else."

trying to take the bottle from me, tori leaned across the picnic blanket. i sat back and held it further away. she continued leaning. we kept going until i was on the ground. her hands around my wrists pinned me in place.

"Ha!"

it took effort to not think about her weight on mine.

"I wonder if it tastes just as good stolen back?"

it was hard to think at all.

"alright. you got your drink back."

"can i be unpinned now?"

"Unp-"

"OH!"

tori scrambled to release me.

"I'm so sorry, Sans."

"I hope I was not hurting you."

"definitely not."

"...."

"...."

"It tastes just the same."

"you can steal mine if you want."

"It is alright."

"how are you ever gonna 𝘵𝘦𝘢 the difference if you don't?"

"It is hardly stealing if you've given me permission."

"..ok. aaah, noo, don't steal my drinkk! how could youu?"

"Pfft."

"Yelling is certainly not your forte."

despite declining previously, she decided now to take a drink from my bottle.

"or even capitalizing."

"Maybe you're right."

"hm?"

"It 𝗶𝘀 better stolen."

"what'd i say? it always is."

"I wonder 𝘸𝘩𝘺 that is."

"the added flavor of thievery, of course."

"Shall we just swap bottles, then?"

"sure."

"i hope the thievery flavor doesn't add too many carbs."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"i'm trying to watch my figure. can't keep this hot bod without a few sacrifices."

"Dad bod, maybe."

"less of a dad bod. more of a father figure."

"Hehehe."

"I do certainly prefer you big-boned, though."

"well. in that case."

i grabbed a bag of chips from our picnic basket.

"I am on a bit of a diet as well."

"yeah?"

"A seafood diet."

"........."

"seafood, huh?"

"I 𝘀𝗲𝗲 food and I eat it!"

never honestly laughed at that one before now.

i'm certain i've ironically gotten a shirt with that printed on it for alphys once. now i'm thinking that i should get one for tori.

——

trying to open and shut the front door as quietly as i could, i immediately broke the silence by dropping my keys in the dark. papyrus' door opened.

"shit."

"SANS? ARE YOU HOME?"

"..yeah."

"sorry for wakin' you."

"WHY WERE YOU OUT SO LATE AGAIN?"

"just out and about."

"YOU ONLY ANSWERED ONE MESSAGE THE WHOLE TIME."

"sorry bro. got distracted."

" 'OUT AND ABOUT' DOESN'T REALLY EXPLAIN WHAT YOU WERE DOING, EITHER."

to my dismay, he flicked on the lights when i got to my door.

"........"

"SO YOU ACTUALLY WORE THAT TURTLENECK."

"can't let it rot away in my dresser forever."

he folded his arms and leaned against the wall outside my doorway. i didn't bother closing the door.

i tossed the turtleneck into my room and slipped on a random unfolded shirt.

"I TAKE IT YOU WENT TO SEE MS. TORIEL, THEN."

"let's not do this."

"I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING."

i did the same with my capris, kicking them off and replacing them with my usual shorts.

"..AT LEAST I KNOW YOU WERE IN GOOD HANDS."

sighing, i stepped out of my room and flicked the light down.

"gonna go not-think on the couch. i promise not to have the tv too loud."

"DON'T STAY UP TOO MUCH LATER, PLEASE."

"ok."

"AND EAT SOMETHING, IF YOU HAVEN'T."

"ok."

"REALLY. DON'T STAY UP LONG."

"i won't."

"goodnight bro."

"GOODNIGHT, SANS."

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act Two: Chapter Two)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N:

I’m super sick right now :(

I haven’t been able to write anything and instead got sucked down the rabbit hole of reading fanfic instead of writing lmao

I’ve got bits and pieces of Act Two written up already but not in a real order so there’s a lot I still need to write up. Send me good vibes so I can write up the next chapter.

Also, this chapter is like twice as long as my usual ones, enjoy :)

Placebo - Surrounded By Spies

I saw you jump from a burning building I saw you jump from a burning building I've seen you move like Elvis set on fire I've seen you move like Elvis set on fire This search for meaning is killing me This search for meaning is killing me This search for meaning is killing me This search for meaning

Ping pong ball at the back of my throat Ping pong ball at the back of my throat And I won't be spoken to like that And I won't be spoken to like that

Suspicious bag on the platform Suspicious bag on the platform Suspicious bag on the platform Suspicious bag on the platform

Ex-drummer's nose stuck in the past Ex-drummer's nose stuck in the past Found dead behind the wheel of a car Found dead behind the wheel of a car

World leader going under the knife World leader going under the knife Stage four Stage two Stage three Stage four Stage two Stage three

We go to Sweden in the back of a cab We go to Sweden in the back of a cab

And every picture house is empty And every picture house is empty

I gave my heart Now I want it back I gave my heart Now I want it back I gave my heart Now I want it back I gave my heart Now I want it back

I am surrounded by spies I am surrounded by spies I am surrounded by spies I am surrounded by spies

Dead fly on the national anthem Dead fly on the national anthem Dead fly on the national anthem Dead fly on the national anthem

I see faces on the bathroom floor I see faces on the bathroom floor I see faces on the bathroom floor Come on over and I'll show you more

Where are you now When I need you the most (Shut up) Where are you now When I need you the most (Shut up) Where are you now When I need you the most (Shut up) Where are you now When I need you the most (Shut up)

I am surrounded by spies I am surrounded by spies I am surrounded by spies I am surrounded by spies

Charlotte sat on the bed quietly as Beth got into her pyjamas, ready for bed. It was much later than she was used to going to bed but after all the drama of the night, the poor girl looked ready to drop. Charlotte wasn't sure how to feel about any of it. The last few hours of her life had been a tempestuous whirlwind and she could barely get her bearings. She felt so much at once, all conflicting feelings that she didn't know how to sort through. 

She was happy he was alive, of course she was. How could she not be? How many times had she cried herself to sleep, asking the universe why he had to leave? Asking if he could just come back? Well, now he had. She got her wish, yet she hadn't expected it to happen, never mind how deeply it wounded her. To know he left all on his own volition was something else. She didn't care what his excuses were of keeping her safe, she didn't think anything he said would be enough to soothe the deep wounds he’d left her at this betrayal. 

She never thought in a million years that her Simon would do this to her. She hadn't meant to explode on him like she had, nor had she meant to confess in hurt and anger that she’d tried to kill herself. She felt shame flush her cheeks at remembering the fact she’d had an audience as she’d said it. Remembered how hurt he’d looked at her admission, even if all she could see of his face were his eyes.

That was all she needed to see to read him. There was something so heartbreaking about seeing him cry like he had, at seeing him hiding his face away behind that mask, yet she hadn't allowed herself to feel sympathy for him. She couldn't, not after what he’d done. 

She’d thought he’d been murdered, right along with everyone else she considered family. In one fell swoop, she’d become so bitterly alone in the world that the only way out she saw fit was to end her own life. She remembered waking up in that hospital bed. She hadn't felt relief that she had survived, didn't see life with a new outlook, all she felt was pain and blind rage at the universe that it wouldn't even let her fucking die in peace. To be with her family. But now looking back, maybe the universe was doing her a favour because Simon wasn't dead, he was here in fucking Hereford at the SAS base they used to live at all along. 

It was confusing to be relieved yet angry at the same time. She didn't know how to process any of it. All she’d wanted was to have Simon back, to have a complete family, for Beth to have her dad. But now she got her wish and she couldn't see a way where her and Simon could pick up where they left off. Not only because he'd created a cavernous space between them with his lie, but because they were different people now. 

Living through the grief that she had, it changed her, much like she could see it changed him. Even though he hadn't been technically dead, she hadn't known that and she’d grieved for him so deeply that she hadn't been able to get out of it in the five years he’d been gone. Her grief knew no bounds. Not for Simon, not for Beth or Tommy, not for Anne, nor for sweet little Joseph. It changed something deep in her DNA that would never go back to how it was. 

The bitterness and jadedness, the anger at the world. She’d spent the first few weeks of knowing she was pregnant hating her own baby simply because it meant she couldn't end her own life and end her own torment. But even when she finally connected with the little baby in her belly, she didn't go back to who she used to be. It gave her a reason to live, sure. It made her dead heart start beating again but it felt like there was only a small chunk of it left. The rest of it was buried along with the Riley family. 

She felt sick then, realising the grave she’d been visiting all this time hadn't been her husband's at all. Who the fuck was buried there then? A new wave of grief washed over her and she closed her eyes to stave off the tears, breathing deeply through her nose. She wasn't the woman Simon knew her to be, not any more. She knew from what Price had said, Simon had been through more than just the loss of his family. He had changed too, she could see that with that mask he wore. She could hardly believe the man was wearing a fucking skeleton mask all the time, not when he used to be so afraid of them. 

Ghost . That’s what Price said he was called now. He didn't go by Simon anymore. For all intents and purposes, Simon was dead. Maybe her grieving hadn't been for nothing after all. But could she love Ghost as she had Simon? Was Simon hiding in there at all? She thought back to the journey over here and the way Price was being cryptic, not telling her much but telling her enough to warn her of what might await her. 

The silence in the car was making Charlotte’s skin crawl but she couldn't find it in herself to open her mouth and break it. Her brain felt like it had been on a merry go round since the moustached man had uttered those treacherous words to her back home and felt like she didn't know which way was up anymore. 

She glanced to her left, seeing Beth clutching her stuffed bunny. She was bobbing her head to the beat of the music, chunky headphones over her ears that were connected to Charlotte’s phone. Beth had always loved music, enjoyed how Charlotte played it around the house. She thought it was best the girl listened to some on the journey, not wanting her to be hyper aware of the tension her mother was holding. It was getting increasingly harder to hide things from her, she was getting far too perceptive for her own good. She didn't need her asking questions about why she wasn't happy her dad was okay. 

When she’d explained to Beth on the way out that her father wasn't in fact an angel in heaven, but very much alive, the girl only had one emotion. Excitement. Of course she couldn't get it, she was far too young, but Charlotte was struggling with a slew of emotions she couldn't quite understand and she was having a hard time putting on a brave face for her daughter. 

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be goin’ through right now. And I know I have no right to ask you anythin’ but… just hear him out, yeah? Whether that's tonight, in a week, a fuckin’ month… Once you’ve got your head on right, just try to listen to him,” John murmured carefully from the driver's seat, the leather steering wheel creaking under his grip. 

Charlotte tensed, glaring out of the window as she crossed her arms over her chest. Part of her wanted to hear Simon out. He was her husband. They hadn't just been lovers, but best friends and that's why she was so confused as to why he’d done this to her. At her silence, John continued.

“He’s a good man, Charlotte. And I know you know that ‘cause you married him,” he sighed, his tone weary.

“It’s been five years, John. I don’t know what kind of man he is now,” she bit out, still staring out of the window as the dark street passed her by. 

“He’s still a good man,” John argued vehemently. “I won’t lie and say he’s the same man you knew all those years ago because he’s changed. Who wouldn't after everythin’ he’s been through? I can’t tell you all of it ‘cause it’s not my story to tell, but… I know you know what happened to the family,” he murmured, glancing at her through the rear view mirror. She licked her lower lip, chest aching at the mere mention of them.

“They were murdered,” she replied tensely. They’d never caught the murderers and that had always been something that stuck with her. John nodded, a frown etched onto his face that she could see when she looked through the mirror at him.

“Like I said, I can't say much, but I will tell you it was connected to a job gone wrong in Mexico. Simon was taken with some of his squad mates, tortured for months on end. And the poor bastard… he somehow survives, somehow gets out, only to come home and find his family fuckin’ massacred,” John’s angry words made Charlotte feel nauseous. 

The idea of Simon going through all that broke her heart. She remembered his smiling face the day he left, the last time she ever saw him. He’d already been through so much in his life and she could only imagine the stuff he went through at the hands of whoever did this to him. 

It still stung though, that he left her so willingly. She was his wife, he should have come to her in his time of need so she could be there for him. They could have grieved together, helped each other through it. But instead, he’d led her to believe he’d been murdered too, led her to believe she was thoroughly on her own.

“He could have come to me,” her voice was a mere whisper in the quiet car and John’s shoulders slumped.

“I know he could have. He fuckin’ should have. I’ll never sit here and try to defend his actions, he was a fuckin’ idiot for doin’ what he did. I tried to tell him after I found out he’d faked his death, told him to reach out to you, but he wouldn't have any of it. He was convinced if he did, you’d wind up dead too,” John explained with a sigh. 

The more rational and logical side of Charlotte’s brain understood the motives. Understood that Simon had been out of his mind with grief after being tortured for months when he'd made the choice to leave her behind like he had. She understood how terrified he must have been when she tried to put herself in his shoes. But what she didn't understand was why he hadn't told her sooner. Why not after a few months or even just one year, he hadn't tried to reach out and explain things to her.

Five years was a long time and the only reason she was finding out now was because his identity had been exposed. If that wouldn't have happened, she had no doubt she’d still be thinking her husband was dead and that hurt her deeply. It hurt that he clearly hadn't even looked her up and checked to see how she was doing or he’d have known about Beth. John had told her as they left the house that he’d called ahead to let him know he had a daughter so he didn't have a heart attack when they got there. Did he care that little about her that it was so easy to let her go? That he’d been able to forget about her like she meant nothing?

She was broken out of her depressing thoughts when Beth moved to take the headphones off, looking from Charlotte to John.

“Are we nearly there yet, Mr John?” she asked excitedly, kicking her legs around as she wriggled in her seat. It was far easier for Beth to roll with the punches after finding out her dad was very much alive. She didn't care about the ‘how’ or the ‘why’, she just cared about finally getting to meet her daddy, her hero. 

“Not too long left now, sweetheart,” John replied with a smile. It hadn't escaped her notice how attached he’d gotten to Beth already. 

“I can’t wait! Mummy, are you excited to see daddy?” she asked with a big smile, her big brown eyes boring into her mother. No, no she really wasn't. It would have been better if this bomb had been dropped on her and then she was left to stew in it for a week so she could digest the news. But instead she was heading right there when her emotions were heightened and she couldn't make sense of any of them.

“Of course I am, sweetie,” she smiled at her. She tried her best to make it as genuine as possible and the girl bought it by the way her own smile widened. 

“Now, before we get there, there’s just a few things I wanna get outta the way,” John spoke up, making fleeting eye contact through the mirror with Charlotte.

“He doesn't really go by Simon much anymore. I’m really the only one who calls him by his name and it doesn't happen a lot, sometimes his best mate Johnny will too, if it's somethin’ serious. On base, you’ll hear him be referred to as Lieutenant or Ghost,” he continued. Lieutenant. He got his promotion then. 

“Ghost? That’s a funny name!” Beth giggled and John let out a chuckle.

“It’s his callsign, kind of like a nickname. Most soldiers have one,” he explained patiently. 

“Do you have one, Mr John?” she asked curiously.

“Not really. People often just call me Cap or by my last name,” he shrugged.

“Why is daddy called Ghost? Does he like spooky things? I like spooky things!” Beth exclaimed, pulling what she deemed to be a ‘spooky’ face in the mirror at John and he smiled to himself. She didn't give him a chance to answer her barrage of questions though as she continued to ramble.

“Halloween is my most favoritest day of the year. And on my birthday, mummy decorates the house like it's halloween!” she grinned, ending her spiel with a ghost noise as she wiggled her fingers dramatically. Despite the situation, Charlotte couldn't help the smile that curled on her lips. No matter what anyone said, her daughter was for sure a character. 

“Well, if you like spooky things, you’ll like your daddy’s mask then. He has a skeleton mask that he wears all the time,” John spoke up. His voice was light as he addressed his words to the young girl who started clapping excitedly, but his eyes caught Charlotte's with a meaningful look. It shocked her, knowing his fear since a child, knowing how Tommy used to wear a skeleton mask to scare him.

“All the time?” she asked, getting a nod in return. 

“Was only recently the rest of the 141 got to see his face. Part of it's due to some scarrin’ he’s got after… after Mexico. But mostly I think it's to conceal his identity,” he explained and she held in her scoff. Didn't do a fucking good job since someone found out anyway and now her and Beth were being driven to an SAS base for god knows how long. 

She tried to will herself to be in a better mood, to summon some semblance of excitement to see her husband, mostly for her daughter's sake. Little Beth couldn't sit still in her seat as she went on and on about how excited she was to see him. She couldn't find any excitement inside herself though. 

The sting of his betrayal stung deep and she had no idea how long it would take for it to subside. Would it ever? She never thought in her wildest dreams that she’d ever get to see him again and never did she ever think she’d be feeling this way if she did. Yet here she was, on her way to see the husband she thought was dead for the past five years and all she felt was hurt. 

Charlotte looked over once Beth was fully ready for bed, watching as she rummaged around in the duffel bag near the bed. The room was a decent size with a bathroom attached. It had a double bed for Charlotte and a smaller single bed for Beth. John had explained to her once she’d come inside about how the base worked, despite the fact she lived here once. Apparently things had changed a little especially since they were in a special task force. 

It was an SAS base but they weren't the only ones here. The Task Force had their own building which housed their barracks and a rec room/small kitchen. They shared the training area, armoury and mess hall with the rest of the soldiers here. 

Beth pulled a worn leather bound book from the bag and Charlotte smiled softly. It always looked comically large in her small hands. It was the same copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales that Simon got her all the way back in 2006. She hadn't been able to look at it for two years after he ‘died’, but eventually she found comfort in reading it. Beth loved it too now. The stories weren't traditionally for children but Beth didn't care. She loved these ones and not the Disney versions that were in her words, ‘icky’. She toddled over, book in hand and her comfy bunny pyjamas back on.

“Mummy…?” she asked softly, dark eyes glancing over at her with a tiny smile playing on her lips.

“What is it, sweetie?” Charlotte answered.

“Could daddy read me my bedtime story?” she asked hopefully. The idea of seeing Simon so soon after the confrontation outside made her blood turn to ice in her veins, but she concealed it with a fake smile for her daughter. 

“You’d have to ask him, his room is next door. He might not be there though,” she said softly. She hoped he wouldn't be there. It was bad enough knowing his room was so close to theirs and she knew Simon was probably to blame for that. 

“Can I go and knock?” she asked with a grin and Charlotte nodded as she stood up. She wouldn't go to his door but she’d wait at her own so she could keep an eye on her. She was only four after all. Beth put the book on her bed and Charlotte opened the bedroom door, leaning on the doorframe as she watched Beth go to the door next to theirs. 

She knocked softly, fidgeting where she stood and Charlotte felt conflicted. The selfish part of her hoped he wouldn't be there so she wouldn't have to see him, but seeing how excited and anxious Beth was, she couldn't help but hope he was there. The door opened and Charlotte couldn't see him as he stood in his doorway. Beth grinned up at him, a brilliant smile that she’d perfected over the years. The one that got her anything she wanted. 

“Daddy! Can you read me a bedtime story, please?” she asked, clutching her hands together like she was begging him. He was silent for a moment and Charlotte wondered what look he had on his face. Despite everything, it had touched her seeing how emotional he got when he saw Beth. It touched her how he instantly fell in love with her. 

“Where's your mummy, sweetheart?” he asked carefully and Beth pointed over at her. 

He stepped out of the door then, now dressed in black sweats and a tight fitting t-shirt. He’d always been big but he seemed even bigger now. He didn't have on the hard skull mask from earlier, and instead he had a black gaiter with half a skull painted on it covering his lower face. She could just make out a scar coming out from it and curling around his temple. 

His blonde hair had grown in his time away. It was longer at the top and messily pushed back, shorter on the sides. He also had a half sleeve and a part of her brain, the old Charlotte, itched to see what the ink was, what story it told. He stared at her for a long moment and Charlotte couldn't meet his eyes as they burned into her. He finally dragged his gaze away from her and back to the little girl in front of him.

“If it’s alright with your mum, then I’ll read to you, lovie,” he murmured, making Beth turn her pleading eyes on her. Charlotte couldn't find her voice and just nodded, making her way back to the bedroom as Beth and Simon followed. She sat on the bed, watching as Beth rushed in, grabbing the book. Simon shut the door behind him, looking severely out of place in the room.

“Come on, daddy!” Beth giggled as she climbed in bed, pulling her quilt over her and patting the spot next to her. Simon walked over, perching on the side of the bed. When Beth shoved the book in his hands, his whole body seemed to still. Charlotte couldn't help but watch his reaction, seeing how his hand rubbed over the beaten leather cover as he swallowed thickly. He took a shaky breath, cracking open the front cover to reveal the message inside. 

‘Grimm stories for my Grim girl. 

All my love,

Simon’

She watched as his hands shook, watched how he blinked rapidly before looking at her. She felt a deep ache in her chest and she bit down on her lower lip, tearing her gaze away from his. She knew it meant something to him, that she’d kept the book. 

“Which story, lovie?” he asked Beth after clearing his throat. 

“Any, you can pick!” she smiled, moving to lay down, wriggling around to get comfy inside the covers. He nodded, flicking through the pages before he found the one he’d been looking for.

“Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl. Everyone who saw her liked her, but most of all her grandmother, who did not know what to give the child next. Once she gave her a little cap made of red velvet. Because it suited her so well, and she wanted to wear it all the time, she came to be known as Little Red Ridin’ Hood, ” he started, his voice low and soothing. Charlotte settled to sit back, leaning on the headboard as she listened on.

“One day her mother said to her: ‘Come Little Red Ridin; Hood. Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother. She is sick and weak, and they will do her well. Mind your manners and give her my greetin’s. Behave yourself on the way, and do not leave the path, or you might fall down and break the glass, and then there will be nothin’ for your sick grandmother.’ " listening to him read like this took her back and she tried to ignore the tumultuous tide of emotions within her. A large part of her wanted to go over to him, curl around him and not let him go. She didn't think she'd ever get to hear his voice again and now he was reading to their daughter. Despite the deep yearning she felt, she didn't move. She couldn't . 

A nasty voice in the back of her head wondered if he was happier away from her. Wondering if maybe he hadn't looked her up because he realised he was better off without her. She knew it was stupid, knew it was a very self centred way of thinking, yet she couldn't help it. She never thought she and Simon had a perfect relationship by any means, she didn't think perfect existed. She did think they came pretty fucking close though so learning that he just fucked off and left when they both needed each other still didn’t make sense in her brain.

She stayed there listening to him read until Beth fell fast asleep, her soft snores filling the air as he stopped reading. The quiet left the roaring in her ears far too loud. Glancing over at him, she saw how he watched Beth, eyes flitting over her face as if he was trying to ingrain every small feature of her face into his brain. It made her chest feel hot and tight as he gently raised his hand up to her head, hesitating for a mere second before he stroked her head with his large hand. 

She wondered what he would have been like with her as a baby. It had devastated her after having to go through labour alone, to know Beth's daddy wouldn't ever get to hold her. He'd missed out on so much of her life, so many important firsts she'd been through. There wasn't anything he could do or say to change that. 

His hand moved back to the book then as he closed it quietly, his hand once more smoothing over the beaten leather cover. The silence that permeated the room was anything but comfortable and Charlotte wasn't brave enough to break it herself. He dragged his eyes to her and she tried to quell her rapidly beating heart. She needed time alone, needed her brain to digest the ridiculous amount of bullshit that it had forced on it within hours. 

“I'll uh… I'll let you rest then,” he murmured, his tone unsure and awkward as his eyes never left her. He'd always had a way of seeing right through her but now she hated it. She nodded, nibbling her lower lip as she stood. She didn't know what to say so she settled on not saying anything at all as she walked to the door. She opened it, unable to meet his gaze that was burning into her as he placed the book on the nightstand and moved over to the door. 

He hovered in the doorway before just stepping right out, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief. Part of her had been worried he'd corner her into talking about everything and it was far too soon. But as she watched him walk down the hall a few steps away to his own door, a thought hit her like a tonne of bricks again and she couldn't stop her mouth from opening. To ask the question burning on the tip of her tongue, even if she was scared to know the answer.

“Simon…” she called out after him, her voice trailing off as she stepped out into the hallway. He stopped and turned to face her at an alarmingly fast rate. She almost felt bad at his hopeful eyes that burned into her.

“What is it, love?” he asked, his voice soft, as he gazed at her. 

She’d wondered if Simon was in there at all or if Ghost was all that was left, but the reverence in his dark eyes let her know that Simon was indeed still there, even if he was buried. Her mouth floundered for a moment, scared to even ask him but she knew she’d lose sleep if she didn't. Hell, she knew she'd be losing sleep regardless, but she wanted to know.

“Who… Who’s buried… where you should be?” she asked carefully, tripping over the wording. Shock coloured his face for a brief moment before his eyes darted away at lightning speed, now unable to look at her. It only made the pit in her stomach grow.

“Some things are best just left well alone, sweetheart,” he frowned, still not looking at her. It only served to make annoyance swell up inside of her.

“Really? After everything you’ve fucking done, now you won’t even answer my questions?” she asked, sounding more hurt than angry which only annoyed her further. His eyes finally met hers, brows furrowed deeply but he still didn't say anything.

“How am I ever gonna be able to understand all of this bullshit if you won't even answer me?” she asked incredulously as she took an angry step towards him.

“Ask me somethin’ else, anythin’ else and I’ll answer, please ,” he whispered and she could hear how strained his voice was. She knew then, he didn't want to answer her because he knew she wouldn't like the answer. Her eyes narrowed, hands shaking at her sides as she glared at him.

“It was one of them, wasn't it? One of the murderers?” she asked, dread coating her tongue. It got worse when he squeezed his eyes shut, lowering his head as he inhaled deeply through his nose. She started to think he wouldn't answer her again but then his shoulders slumped as he nodded.

“Yeah… it is,” he admitted and the shame in his voice was clear as day. She stumbled back a step, covering a hand over her mouth as if it would help stop the feelings of bile climbing up her throat.

“Lottie…” he pleaded, reaching his hand out as if to steady her but she moved right away from him, bitter tears stinging her eyes.

“You… I can’t-” she shook her head, wiping at her eyes furiously as the ringing in her ears got louder. His own tearful face watched her, half covered as his tears disappeared under his gaiter.

“I visited that grave every single fucking day! I stood there and poured my heart out to the bastard that took our family away! He's buried next to them!” she seethed, trying to keep her voice down but she felt so much disgust that she worried she might vomit her heart right up. His face fell, a look in his eyes that told her this was something that bothered him deeply, yet he’d done it anyway. 

“I’m sorry, love, I am, but I did what I need-” he started but she didn't want to hear it.

“Don't you dare! You didn’t need to fake your fucking death! You didn't need to have me visiting a murderer's grave for five years!” she hissed, feeling lightheaded. She couldn't even look at him, it made her feel sick. 

She turned on her heel, moving back to her door and pushing it open, but just as it opened a crack, his large hand covered hers on the handle as he yanked it back shut. His hand stayed on hers, his left hand on the doorframe by her head, caging her in as she faced the door. 

His chest wasn't touching her back but was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. Part of her wanted to cave, wanted to turn in his arms, sob into his chest and beg him to never leave her again. She couldn't though, not after this. It dawned on her that this was why he was scared to answer the question. That maybe this was a push too far. 

She stood stock still, tearful eyes blinking at the wooden door in front of her. His head was hovering over her right shoulder and she could hear his stuttering breaths, knew he was trying to calm himself despite his tears. She waited for him to speak, to argue his point some more. She didn't have it in her anymore, she just needed to get away from him. 

He stayed there for a moment, so close yet so out of reach it burned her chest, and then he backed away from her. Her hand felt ice cold once he’d let her go, the only proof he was in fact alive and she hadn't made all of this nonsense up in her head. 

“I know it probably doesn't feel like it, Lottie… but I love you,” he murmured with a rough voice. She didn't turn to look at him as her silent tears fell harder, didn't dare open her mouth because she wasn't sure just what might come out. She stayed as still as a statue at her door until she heard him walk away and go back into his room, and only then did her tense muscles relax. 

The tears wouldn't stop though and the burning in her chest was getting worse. She knew she couldn't go into the bedroom like this. The last thing she wanted was to wake up Beth in this state and only cause her confusion. Not really knowing what else to do, she took off down the hallway, leaving through the double door that separated the bedrooms from the rest of the building. She hurried into the kitchen area, chest heaving with ugly sobs that she couldn't hide any more. She was just glad Simon wasn't around to witness her like this. She clutched the kitchen counter in a death grip, trying to will her breathing to slow so she could get a hold of herself. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

The voice made her whip around, coming face to face with a man with a mohawk. She’d seen how close he was to Simon when they were all outside and she was sure this was the best friend John had told her about. She wiped her eyes as her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, but she still couldn't calm down. He looked so sad when he looked at her, like he knew her, like they were friends, and this whole thing made him sad. It was pretty jarring given he was a stranger. 

“Alright, come on,” he sighed with a frown, shaking his head as he held his arms out to her. She blinked her watery eyes at him dumbly.

“What?” she squeaked out through her tears. He didn't answer her with words and instead just took a few long strides to her before wrapping her in his arms.

It caught her off guard but there was something comforting about him and she couldn't help but melt into him, allowing herself to seek comfort. The only person that had hugged her for years had been Beth and despite how she was avoiding Simon’s touch like the plague, she needed comforting now more than ever. 

She sobbed into his chest, hands balled into his t-shirt at his back as he held her close. One of his hands stroked her hair as he murmured something to her. She couldn't really understand him with his accent, she wasn't even sure if he was speaking English at this point. It still soothed her though and after far too long for her liking, her tears finally dulled to sad sniffles. His shirt was soaked with her tears and she felt her face flush once more as she reluctantly pulled away from him. He gave her a sad smile, squeezing her shoulders before he took a step back, allowing her space once more.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, shame still nipping at her.

“Don't need t’ thank me, lass. Yer family,” he replied easily, a warm smile on his face. Family . That word felt so strange to her now. She’d been so used to it just being her and Beth and now she had a family again. She tried to give him a smile back, feeling more than overwhelmed and unsure of herself.

“You want me to make ye a brew?” he asked kindly but she shook her head, swallowing thickly as she wiped at her damp cheeks.

“No… No thanks, I should get back in case Beth wakes up,” she declined politely and he nodded with another warm smile.

“Alright then. Sleep well,” he shot her another smile and she headed to the door, arms wrapped around herself as if to self soothe.

“Charlotte,” he called out before she walked through the doorway. She turned back to look at him, finding him looking at her already. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before sighing.

“If ye need anythin’, and I mean anythin’ , ye can come to me. I know you don’t know me very well, not yet at least, but ye don’t have to be alone here. I want ye to know that. You got someone fightin’ in yer corner for ye. That big fuckin’ idiot might be my best friend but… you didn’t deserve all this shit. So if ye need someone rootin’ for ye, I’m right here,” he implored, bright blue eyes burning fiercely. 

Her throat clogged up, eyes stinging with unshed tears again at his words. He didn't know her at all yet she could tell he meant his words. It touched her and sent a wave of relief through her. Simon was the only one she knew here and she couldn't go to him after everything. She couldn't trust him any more, so knowing she had someone she could go to if she needed anything was a huge relief for her. 

“Thanks…” she trailed off, realising she didn't know his name. Her head was so muddled, she couldn’t remember if John had told her back on her journey here or not.

“Johnny or Soap. Take yer pick. Fuck, ye can call me the Scottish Bastard if ye want, I won’t mind,” he shot her a lopsided grin that made her smile genuinely for the first time in hours. 

“Thanks, Johnny. It means a lot,” she murmured. He beamed at her, seemingly happy with her response and she gave him a little nod before exiting the room.

Johnny watched her go, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest at the mess his best friend had caused. He turned to flick the kettle on, needing some shite like a chamomile tea to help him unwind before bed. He felt far too wired right now. He felt the presence before he heard it and he heaved a sigh.

“Ye want somethin’, LT?” he asked tiredly, glancing over his shoulder. Ghost stood there, gaiter on and all imposing like he usually was but Johnny spotted his tense posture right away. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think his LT was about to fucking murder him.

“What’s your fuckin’ game, Johnny?” Ghost growled. His tone was harsh, harsher than Soap had ever received from him even when he was purposely trying to push his buttons. It made annoyance swell up inside the Scot as he turned to fully face the spectre haunting the kitchen.

“Excuse me?” he asked, making sure to sound as unimpressed as possible. Ghost took a step towards him and Johnny wouldn't be a liar and say it didn’t strike a little fear through him. Mostly because he could see those dark eyes peering over the mask at him and they looked absolutely fucking feral.

“That’s my fuckin’ wife you had your hands all over!” he hissed, sounding half fucking gone as he jabbed a finger in Soaps’ direction. It wasn't just jealousy he could detect in the man's tone, no, it was pure hurt.

“Is that a fuckin’ joke?! Ye think I’m makin’ moves on yer wife?!” Johnny spat, feeling like he might as well have been smacked in the face. 

Ghost’s breathing was ragged and Johnny didn't miss the glistening of his eyes. He felt almost positive his big bad LT was on the verge of breaking down and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to will himself some fucking patience to deal with the man.

“I was comfortin’ her, ye wee bawbag! Didn’t ye see her? She was a mess, a mess you caused! And I get it must be hard all this but it's hard on her too and I want her to know she’s got people that care. I want this to fuckin’ work for the both of ye, yer my best friend for Christ’s sake! I’m tryin’ to be the bridge here, the one to help guide you back together!” Johnny frowned. 

If he was honest, he felt hurt at Ghost’s implications but he also knew the normally emotionally constipated man was going through a lot right now. The beast of a man's shoulders sagged and Soap saw the switch from Ghost to Simon as he looked down, shaking his head as his fists clenched and unclenched.

“I didn't mean… I know you wouldn't, I just…” Simon couldn't seem to find his words, his voice cracking as he sucked in a painful sounding breath. 

“She won’t let me touch her. All I wanna do is hold her and I can't. And then I see you huggin’ her and I…” he trailed off with a shaky voice, nothing but pain in his words and it punched Soap in the gut. He felt for the man, he really did. Five years away from his wife and he wasn't allowed the reunion he so desperately craved. He can only imagine it would drive a man mad. 

“Well… if ye hug me then it’ll be like a second hand hug off Charlotte,” he murmured wryly, opening his arms out to him. Simon squinted at him, tilting his head as he looked at him like he’d grown another head.

“Are you fuckin’ daft?” he asked incredulously and Soap laughed lightly.

“Aye, pretty much. Now come here, ye fuckin’ shit stain,” Soap huffed, moving over to hug the man. 

Simon’s hands hung limply by his sides for what felt like a whole minute but Soap didn't relent. Finally, he heaved a long suffering sigh before wrapping his arms around Johnny and the Scot knew he needed this hug as much as Charlotte had with how tightly he was gripping him.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” Simon muttered in contempt and Soap smiled to himself.

“Nah, ye love me,” he retorted, not missing a beat. He let go after a few moments not wanting a punch to the dick for taking too long. He’d already pushed it as it was.

“It’ll all work out in the end. Just gotta be patient,” Johnny said carefully, a soft look on his face as he watched his Lieutenant roll his shoulders as if to shake the tension out of them. 

“How can you be so sure?” he asked miserably and at that moment, Soap wasn't sure if he was speaking to Ghost or Simon or maybe an odd mix of both.

“I can feel it. Ye both still love each other and I think after some time, you’ll be able to work through it all. Love like this… nothin’ can stop it,” he shrugged honestly and Simon swallowed thickly, the movement making his gaiter bob a little. 

“I hope you're right, Johnny,” he admitted quietly, a mere whisper in the kitchen as if he was scared to say it out loud. 

Johnny hoped he was right too, he hoped to all the gods to ever exist that Simon could win his wife back. If anyone deserved happiness in this world it was his LT and Johnny wanted him to get that happy ending he’d always tried to deny. The one he’d tried to run from. Like he said, nothing can stop a love like this and it had all come catching up to him now. You can't outrun fate.

[gliphyartfan]

@yandere-linked-universe @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @justanerd1

A quick one! sorry for the messiness folks! but I simply couldn't end/start the year without at least ONE small thing. (And the other thing that was SUPPOSED to be posted today isn't anywhere near finished)

I'll draw something for this a bit later, but for now, I hope you enjoy this small piece!

(Didn't know where to start it so I just wrote the main part and end, enjoy!)

...

.....

The container shot high into the sky, leaving a smoky streak in it's wake.

When it reached it's highest point, Wild detonated the bomb within the container.

For a moment, nothing, then, as the container blew apart, the sky bloomed into a shower of sparkling light.

(y/n) gasped loudly as glittery streaks of gold and white flew across the night sky.

Even though she had experienced many fireworks shows before, this one was absolutely breathtaking in its beauty. Her eyes lit with delight. reflecting the sight of the shimmering lights exploding over the vastness of the dark sky.

For a brief moment, she wasn't in Hyrule, nor back home. she was in a place that only ever existed during moments like this. Entranced by the lights and sounds, she could only stand there, hands clasped together against her chest, feeling her heart pounding as container after container followed the first one. She felt like a little girl again, sitting on her father's shoulders as she watched her first show.

Remembering how much she screamed in glee and pointed at her favorite ones. Her family cheering along with her.

Her homesickness went away as she was swept by her nostalgic memories, yet also stayed at the same time. What day was it back home? How was her family, her friends? Were they celebrating the holidays yet? if so, were they seeing fireworks too? Maybe, a deep part of her hoped, they were watching their own fireworks at the same time.

She hoped so.

It made her sad to think about. But happy, because this was simply another memory she was making. So many things to tell her loved ones when she found a way home.

She doesn't know what the future held for her, but she hoped there were more happy memories for everyone.

A hand rested itself on her shoulder, she looked to her right and saw Sky smiling gently at her.

"We hope you like it." He said quietly, barely heard amongst the explosions.

She returned his smile with one of her own, reaching up and clutching his hand with hers, and turned back to the beautiful display.

"I love it." she said in return, her voice cracking a bit. Her eyes welling up with tears from the overwhelming emotion she felt.

She was so touched by this. They didn't have to do this for her, but they did and she couldn't thank her friends enough.

She could hear Wild and Wind laughing loudly as they continued to set off the rest of the containers, The sailor manipulating the winds to gather the glittering items from the sky and sweeping them up into shapes and swirls at Wild's loud commands.

Time and Twilight were sitting on the grass just ahead of her, silently admiring the view, Hyrule and Four to the side, pointing at shapes that caught their eye.

She could hear Warriors loudly complain to Legend to not stand so close to him, with the veteran sarcastically throwing back his own retort.

A small gathering of friends, and a small celebration for the sake of good memories.

She smiled widely, content to enjoy this moment, only to gasp and laugh in glee as one last container shot higher then all the others, and then it stopped, shooting and fell back down towards the earth. It took a few seconds of silence before it exploded, showering the entire forest in brilliant shades of red, yellow, silver, orange and blue. A sight that could never be replaced by anything else.

And then it happened again, and again, and again until she felt dizzy with the endless stream of lights bursting overhead. The explosions kept going and going for what seemed like hours until she could no longer count the number of explosions or the amount of different types of firework colors. All she knew was that it was beautiful.

Moments like this were worth remembering.

She was so happy to be a part of this memory.

---

"She asleep?" Warriors asked, gathering what dragon scales he found on the ground.

"Out like a light," Twilight answered, a large smile on his face. "All that excitement wore her out."

"I told you she would love it!" Wild exclaimed proudly, high-fiving Wind.

"That you did," Time nodded in agreement. "It was a beautiful display."

"Especially the last one!" Hyrule sighed happily as he recalled it. "It was completely unexpected, but I guess that's what made it so memorable."

"Worth the noise." Legend threw in.

"Yeah but gathering all those star fragments and dragon scales was a pain, so don't expect another show anytime." Wild groaned , rolling his shoulders. "I'm pretty sure I'm never gonna see half of those star fragments again with how far they scattered."

"Why do you have so many of them anyway?" Warriors asked, handing the scales he gathered back to Wild.

Wild snatched them from his hands and huffed. "None of your business, that's why."

Twilight chuckled and messed with Wild's hair, "Having regrets cub?" Wild brushed his hand off his head.

"Not on your life."

"Though, I do think we should all follow (y/n)'s example and get some sleep." Four yawned, stretching out. "It is rather late and I don't think she's the only one wiped out."

Warriors looked at Wild, "Think we'll find more of your things tomorrow?"

Wild scoffed. "In this large place? Absolutely not."

"Then it's time to get some sleep everyone, who has first watch?" As Time said that, he motioned for everyone to head into the cabin to gather their sleeping supplies.

Wild stood up, yawning himself before he noticed Wind looking deep in thought.

"Rupee for your thoughts?" Wind hummed, tapping his chin.

"I'm just thinking..." Wild waited for him to continue but Wind stayed silent.

"...and?" Wind thought a moment more before sighing.

"It's just...where did that container come from?"

"Hm?"

"We only made like...12 of them. so when did you have time to make the 13th one...?"

Wild looked at him, eyes as confused as his were.

"I thought you made it." Wind blinked.

"I didn't make that one." They stood there, both trying to figure out

Who could've made that container. Neither having any idea who it could've been.

"...Nope.." Wind shook his head and started to make his way to the cabin.

Wild was even more confused, "huh?"

"I didn't make it. You didn't make it. and we both know the others didn't make it. So I'm gonna say nope, and go to bed."

"...but aren't you curious?"

"Nope." With that Wind went back into the cabin, leaving Wild throw off.

He stared off after him, trying to wrap his head around it.

He decided he would try to figure it out when he woke up the next morning.

Or not.

...Maybe Wind has the right idea.

...

------

As everyone gathered inside to get ready for bed, a light giggle was heard amongst the wind and leaves.

A figure sitting on one of the tall branches of the trees, kicking their legs and watching the light of the campfire slowly dim and listening to the faint noise of the others inside.

"Hee hee~"

Being tossed up in the air and back down onto their hand was one of Wild's star fragments a small bag to their side showed a decent amount of dragon scales and fragments inside. Their quiet laughter emphasized by the smile carved on the pumpkin sitting on their head.

"Silly~ Messy Sillies~"

And as quickly as they made themselves known to the trees, they faded away, the bag left behind. the star fragment that they had been tossing in the air falling to the ground below, their light giggles melding with the rustling leaves. Gone before anyone knew they were there.

"Hee Hee~"

...

(Happy New Year everyone!)

[raiurune]

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Boku no Hero Academia

Wordcount: 2654

Prompt: Boner

Warnings: SFW, nothing to serious.

I planned to write it more in directions of NSFW/Smut, but for now i somehow felt very comfortable in ending the One shot were it ended. But if your interested i can write part 2! Where things get really spicy and steaming hot~

It happened fast. In one moment Bakugou was stomping through the halls of the school building, scowling like usual. Kirishim, Kaminari, Jijrou and Sero were right behind him, chatting and joking about various things.

You were further away in the corridor, standing besides Mina and Asui, not really paying attention. But the loud explosion which erupted in the next moment, the curses and shouts were more than enough to tell you something had just happened. You blinked and whipped your head around in the direction of Bakugou and followers.

Mina sighed playfully. “Lord explosion-murder again?”

“Yup, like always.”, you answered.

“And Monoma, ribbit.”, Asui added.

And she was right, in front of Bakugou stood in fact no one else than Monoma. The blonde was loudly laughing like a maniac, his hand still on Bakugou's shoulder. “I touched you!”

Bakugou growled and violently pushed Monomas hand away from his body. “The fuck did you just do?!”

“Oh~ I just tried a quirk I was able to copy a few minutes earlier on you~”

“I'll fucking kill you!”

“Ha! I like to see you try! Aizawa-sensei and Yamada-sensei are talking just around the corner! Purly by coincidence of course!”, Monoma drawled, his mischievous grin mocking Bakugou in all possible ways.

Bakugou's head was red because of his sheer amount anger, and you could swear to see steam puffing out of his ears.

“Concidence, my ass.”, you muttered and Asui nodded.

“He probably planned this, ribbit.”

“Urgh! Why does he always need to pick fights? Especially with our resident explode boy?”, Mina huffed.

“Maybe he gets his kicks out of things like that.”, you muttered.

Mina giggled. “Wouldn't surprise me. Monoma's weird like that.”

Another explosion filled the hall, this time even louder than before.

“Aaaand he exploded again.”, you drawled with a raised eyebrow.

But apparently Aizawa was indeed just around the corner, because he suddenly appeared besides both blonds.

“What's going on here?”, he questioned, his voice tired and gruff and his red eyes blinking down mostly at Bakugou.

“Nothing. Absolutly nothing ~”, Monoma mused, his lips still tugged into arrogant grin.

Aizawa only raised a eyebrow, obliviously not quite believing him. “Bakugou?”

Bakugou growled a last time and shot a murderous glare at Monoma, “Yeah, yeah. Fucking nothing.”

“Keep it that way.”, Aizawa finally supplied. “Now, you both are turning around and walk in different directions. Understood.”

“Of course, Sensei.”

“Fuck this shit.”

You sighed, returning your full attention to you two friends. “That ended rather innocent.”

“Luckily.”

“I wonder what quirk Monoma activated on Bakugou.”, Asui croaked.

A uneasy feeling bloomed in you belly. “I'm really not sure if I even want to knew.”

The next hours in a rush. You always kept one eye at Bakugou, just to make sure nothing weird was happening with him. But nothing really happened. And thus your attention slowly drifted away again.

Sure, he acted a little bit off, was a little bit more angry and snappy than usual. But with Bakugou it was really hard to tell if he was really affected from some quirk or if he simply was in a worse mood than usual. To put it simple: you had absolutely no clue if and what was going on with him and once again: you weren't sure if you even wanted to know.

You talked within sometimes, in rare occasions and it usually was never more than a couple of sentences, but you weren't as close to him as Kirishima. But you still noticed how he cursed you out a little less than others. He still insulted you obviously, and this none to less, but he had his moments in which he actually used your name. And it always surprised you. But you weren't about to complain and simply enjoyed the rare moments In which your name slipped over his mouth.

But no matter what, you were smart enough to avoid Bakugou if he was in a particularly bad mood. Perhaps this was also one of the reasons why he seemed to accept your present more or less. And if you couldn't tell in which mood Bakugou currently was... well, you also avoided him. Just to make sure.

It wasn't like you couldn't deal wit him, quite the contrary was the case honestly, but... dealing with an huffing and puffing Bakugou was just... annoying. Thus, you preferred to only interact with him when your nerves would end being completely stressed out.

After the last class of the day ended, Bakugou abruptly disappeared into the dorms and into his room. You were almost sure you wouldn't see him again today, and after he didn't make an appearance at Lunch, you were absolutely certain about it.

It only took you fifteen minutes to realise how wrong you assumption was. You were currently walking in direction of Kirishima's room. You had promised him to lend him your notes from Aizawa's class today, after he'd admitted he fell asleep in the middle of the class. He had asked Bakugou first, but apparently the only answer he got was 'Not my fucking problem your not sleeping enough' and a middle finger. Kirishima was one of your friends, and also another reason why you ended up interacting with Bakugou at least sometimes. And considering the fact Kirishima was always helpful and forthcoming, you had no problem in lending him your stuff. You knew he would do the same for you.

So yes, you goal was Kirishima's room.

There was just one tiny problem.

You never made it to Kirishimas room.

In the same moment in which you stepped out of the elevator and into the corridor, the door in front of Kirishima's got banged open. Something rushed out, and before you were able to dodge, something very blond and very Bakugou crashed into you.

You crashed down with Bakugou on top on you, your body hitting the ground hard.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips, followed from a painful wincing as you back collided with the ground. Bakugou was panting and cursed violently. “Fuck- Fuck- Fuck-”

“What the- Bakugou?”, you asked in surprise.

“Can't you fucking watch where you're going?!”, he hissed.

“You crashed into me!”, you snapped and started to wiggle under him. “Get off!”

Your hands grabbed his shoulders, as you tried to push him away from you. Your legs moved under his, one of his legs slipping between you because of your wiggling. A rough groan escaped Bakugou's mouth, followed by more curses.

“Stop-”, he pressed out, his breath hitting your throat as his head sank to your shoulder. “Stop fucking moving!”

He grabbed your hands on his shoulder in a swift motion, pushing them away from him and onto the ground besides your heads.

“Wha- let me go!”, you hissed, your patience starting to fade away. You didn't stop your wiggling, still trying to move away under the heavy body on top of you. But Bakugou was just a little bit to heavy, his muscles to tense and his grip on your wrists way to tight. The harsh breaths against your throat became more ragged and suddendly turned in a full fledged growl.

“Fuck, Stop!”, he growled and pressed his body against yours to take away your ability to move.

This movement was enough to finally make you aware of a couple of things. Firstly, Bakugou's skins was burning hot. Secondly his breaths. They were completely uncontrolled and ragged. And thirdly... there was something hard pressing against your leg.

You immediately stopped you movement, and Bakugou sighed in relive.

“God damnit.”, he muttered and buried his sweaty forehead more into the croak of your neck.

Your mouth parted a couple of times, but no word were able to move out of your lips. Suddenly, the throbbing hardness against you leg was impossible to not notice. Warmth spread into your cheeks, realisation slowly setting in.

What the hell.

“Do you- you you have a-”, you stumbled over you words.

“Don't fucking dare to say it. It's cuz of this fucking quirk the Asshead from Class-B used on me.”, Bakugou grumbled into your neck.

“The quirk.”, you repeated in disbelieve. “You got a bo-”

“Are you deaf?! Dont- dont say it.”

You blinked. “Why? Its just a Word.”

“Because- urgh. Fuck.”, Bakugou cursed, not really answering your question.

“I'll say it-”

“Don't you dare-”

You took a deep breath, and did exactly what Bakugou told you not to do. “Boner. You got a Boner because of a Quirk Monoma used on you.”

A sudden violent shudder ran through Bakugou's body and another growl left his mouth. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah you to.”, you mumbled and unconsciously moved your leg which laid very uncomfortable under Bakugous, without really noticing it.

The movement grazed Bakugou sensitive part and he hissed, his fingers burying themselves deeper into the skin around your wrist.

“I'll fucking fuck you if you don't stop fucking moving.”

“I-”, you managed to choke out. “M-Me?”

Bakugou only made a incoherent sound, pressing his nose against you skin and-... inhaled, quietly. “Yeah. Ya would d'serve it.”, he grunted.

You slowly sucked air into your lung, trying your best to ignore the tiggling in you loweder belly and the heat all over you body.

This was bad. Very bad.

And yet, you mouth acted on its own. “...Why?”

“Cuz your moving to much and always touching my-... with your leg- and- fucking hell.”

“And what?”, you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“And it fucking turns me on, alright?”

You inhaled sharply. “I-”

“Its your fucking fault!”

“But you- you already had a boner before-”

“Fucking stop saying that! It makes me even more- urgh! And the stupid boner was no problem until you came along!”, he hissed, his hip starting to twitch.

Your turned your head in his direction, your nose grazing his cheek. “Now your saying it to.”

“It's no problem if I'm the one saying it.”, he grumbled.

“But if I say it, its-”, you tried to question but he interrupted you.

“Yeah.”, he slowly lifted his head away from your neck, also turning his face in your direction. Suddendly you both were nose at nose, and you breath stopped for a moment. “It fucking turns me on.”

“Oh- uhm.”

“It makes me want to hear more from you. More of these words, more sounds. And-”

You gulped drily. “Bakugou-”

“And if you move your cute little body while you are pressed against me it makes me want to touch you, to feel you and-”, his face moved closer, and your eyes widened.

“Bakugou-”, you tried one last time, but it was already to late.

Bakugou took a deep breath, “It makes me want to get fucking touched by you to.”

You weren't able to say anything else, your mouth to dry and the eye contact between you both to intense.

“Lemme touch you.”

“We're in the hallway.”

“Don't care.”

“But-”

“We can move into my room.”

“I- i-”

“Yes or no, answer. I'm not doing shit if your not alright with it, but if you say yes... I'm not going to stop.”

“I-”, once again you mouth moved on its own, completely disconnected from the sane part in your head. “Okay.”

In the next moment Bakugou's mouth crashed against yours. His lips moved on yours, unforgiving and hard. You were barely able to keep up, lips on lips, his teeth grazing the soft flesh of your lower lip and the wetness from his tongue pushing into your mouth. His hips jerked harshly against yours, and it felt like he wanted to do it the whole time. His hard part hit the private part of your body, and feverish groan left his mouth, which stayed connected to yours without a single pause.

He started grinding against you, rubbing his part against yours through the clothes, and heat started to bubble up in your said lower areas.

It was intense, and new and you knew there was absolutely no turning back now.

Bakugou's fingers loosened around your wrist, slowly gliding down over the skin of your arms. One of his hands moved lower, over your shoulder, over the sides of your breasts and over your belly, until it slipped under the hem of your shirt, while the other grabbed your shoulder. His finger roamed all over the skin of your sides, slipping under your back and with a swift motion he pulled you both upwards into a sitting position.

His lips parted from your mouth, just to crash into them again for a brief moment.

“My room.”, he grunted, and his rough voice resulted in shivers all over your body. “Now.”

You took a few breaths to catch yourself again. “Yeah.”

He pulled you upwards and pushed you in direction of his room, his hands never leaving your body and his presence firmly behind you. He fumbled a moment with the door, just the rip it open aggressively in the next moment.

Only after the door closed, your realised how lucky you were that nobody walked into the corridor while you laid pressed together at the ground.

But no matter how much you could think about the fact how lucky you, your thoughts immediately stopped again as Bakugou jerked you forwards and pushed you onto his bad. Even before he started to climb on top of you again his lips were pressed an yours again.

Bakugou growled against you lips. “Hope you got stamina, sweet-lips. Cuz I'm not planning on letting you leave again today.”

You huffed. “I still need to give Kirishima my notes.”

“Fuck him, not your fault he's to stupid to go to bed early.”

“But-”, you tried, but only a gasp left your mouth as Bakugou jerked against your middle.

“I want all your damn attention on me, alright? Just. on. me. All the damn time.”

You buried your fingers into his hair and pulled him even closer to you.

“All the damn time?”, you repeated in a whisper.

“Fuck, yes. I want your full attention just on me now, I want it tomorrow, I always want it. I'm not wasting my time with stupid one-time things.”

“Oh- good. That's good.”, the corners of your lips pulled into a warm smile. “I'm not planning on wasting my time with one time things either. But... I hope your opinion isn't affected by the quirk?”

“Fucking hell, no! That stupid quirk just made me horny as fuck every time I saw you or thought about you. And after you crashed into me-”

“You crashed into me!”

“Dosen't fucking matter, just- I wouldn't say shit like that if I'm not sure if the quirks affecting my mind alright? It just affecting my-”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.”

“So you're accepting?"

“Accepting what?”

“Accepting to be my girlfriend, you idiot!”

“Oh- yes. Yes, of course. I would like to be your girlfriend, Bakugou.”

“Great, and now shut up.”, he mumbled with red cheeks and a glint in his eyes which clearly told you how happy he was about your answer.

His lips found yours once again, and you realised there was indeed no turning back anymore – not that you wanted to turn back. From now on you would need to deal with Bakugou and his rainbow moods of anger and destruction a lot more and... surprisingly, it didn't bother you a single bit. Quite the contrary was the case, to be honest. The way the things had evolved, it was surly a big surprise, but a very pleasant one.

[lunamadhatter99]

Taking care of you

I wrote both Riff and Dodge, because I had a cute scenario for Dodge already in mind, but I also wanted to write again for Riff so... yeah. Hope you like it🤞

Chapter summary: And I was wondering if you could do a oneshot with Riff or Dodge about the reader being sick and him taking care of them? If not that’s okay :)

For @Charliedelancey

Dodge.

Let's make a list, shall we?

Nausea, headache AND vomit... what a wonderful day.

Fuck.

Today was supposed to be a good day: breakfast, shower and a date with Dodge.

He would've taught me how to ride a horse.. fuck.

I have to warn him we gotta postpone it so I grab my phone and call him.

"Hey babe" he quickly picks up the phone.

"Hi" I weakly say.

"Hey hey.. you okay? What's wrong?" He ask worriedly.

"Just.. this morning I woke up and I felt nauseous, my head feels like it would explode anytime and I threw up what I think was also last month meals..I don't think we're gonna see each other today" I tell him.

"Oh baby... don't you worry okay? Just rest, we'll see each other soon. Promise me you would rest" he says sweetly.

"I promise. See you soon"

"See you, baby"

And I hang up the phone.

I decide to make some tea, maybe it would help a little.

In the meantime the headache stopped, thankfully, but I still feel like throwing up anytime.

I go to the couch and just lay down closing my eyes focusing on my breathing and trying to relax.

After a while I hear the doorbell.

What. The actual. Fuck.

Who could be now?

I groan standing up and go to the door.

I smile as soon as my eyes land on Dodge's.

"What are you doing here?" I ask surprised.

"My baby isn't feeling well... what else was I supposed to do?" He asks rhetorically and let himself in closing the door behind him.

"Wh-" I start.

"Nah uh, you now go to bed and I'll make some food" he states walking up to me and moving his hands to frame my face.

"I will just throw it up.." I whine.

"You need something in your stomach, love. No complaints. Go upstairs and lay down, I'll be there soon" he kisses my nose, giving me a small push towards the stairs.

I do as he say and walk to my room to lay down on the bed.

After a few minutes he comes in and sits on the bed with me.

"The soup will be ready in a few minutes." He informs me, stroking my leg under the cover.

"You didn't have to come" I say to him.

"I know" he smiles. "We got a date, remember?"

"And what a wonderful date this is" I sarcastically reply.

"Well.. let's see: I'm with you, you can't get away from my cuddles and I get to take care of you... I'd say it's pretty wonderful" he explains.

"I..." I'm speechless.

"See? Can't argue, I'm right" he says proudly.

"Fine" I say trying to hide a smile.

"Good girl. Now rest and I will fetch your lunch, my lady" he dramatically says.

"Thank you, kins sir" I reply.

He just smiles and come up to kiss me sweetly.

"I love you"

"I love you too"

Riff.

My head is killing me...

My stomach is killing me...

Just my luck..

I promised Valentina I'd help her at the store, so here I am, hiding my pain ad much as I can.

"You sure you're okay, querida? You look pale" Valentina asks me worriedly.

"Yeah.. I'm fine" I lie.

"If you meed to go home, go. No te preocupes, okay? Don't worry."

"I'm fine" I lie again.

She sends me a sceptical look and just goes downstairs.

While I'm cleaning the counter the doorbell jingles I look up and roll my eyes seeing Riff entering the store.

"You know you can't be here" I tell him.

"Hi to you too, beautiful" he replies.

"Hi"

"You're okay?" He asks.

"Yeah" I say quickly.. or way too quickly.

"You're clearly not" he states. "Come, I'll walk you home"

"I'm fine. It's nothing" I tell him as I keep cleaning, avoiding his stare.

Then all of a sudden I feel my head spinning like crazy, I have to grab the counter to keep myself standing.

"It's clearly not nothing." He says, he's worried, I've never seen him this worried.

"I'm... I'm fine" I weakly say.

"Yeah sure and I'm a billionaire. Where the witch, I'll tell her I'm walking you home" he asks, already heading for the basement.

He comes back soon after, followed by Valentina.

"Ay ay, mi niña, go home. I can manage today" she reassures me.

"I'll send Tony to help. Is that okay?" He asks Valentina, who just nods.

"But.."

"No buts" Riff cuts me off "Let's go"

He gently grabs my arm and lead me out of the store, heading home.

After he made me lay down, he made tea and brought it to me.

"You're burning, pretty girl" he says touching my forehead.

"You always say that" I try to joke.

"True. But this time literally. Give me a second" he says getting up and walking round the bathroom.

He comes back with a wet cloth, that he put on my forehead.

"There" he says and slightly caresses my face.

"Why are you so worried?" I ask.

"Isn't it obvious? I like you, a lot. Why else do you think I come to the store this often?"

"To annoy me" I guess.

"Yeah.. also that, but that's because you look cute while mad" he says with a grin.

He gently grabs my hand stroking my knuckles.

"So.. what do you say.. would you let me take care of you?" He asks, hope filling his eyes.

I look at him and I see sincerity.

I smile at him.

"Yeah, Riff. I'll let you take care of me"

He seems surprised, but leans down to press a small kiss on my lips.

"And... when you get better... I hope you'll let me take care of you I'm other, more fun, ways" he says with a smirk.

"You're the worst" I slightly push him and he laughs.

"Oh as if you never thought about it" he jokes.

I laugh.

"You're denying!" He exclaims.

"Maybe" I say.

He smile at me and kisses me again.

"Try to sleep. I'll be here the whole time if you need me" he tells me.

I smile and close my eyes trying to get some rest, knowing he will take care of me... in any way apparently.

[desertdollranch]

It was a beautiful evening in late October when Emerson had a very big idea.

She was used to having big ideas, but she had never come up with one nearly as ambitious as this one.

It all started when she and her sisters Olivia, Mari, and Lily found a maple tree that had, overnight, shed all of its brightly colored leaves. They scooped the leaves into a pile and each took turns jumping into it.

Emerson flopped backwards into the pile, and as she tossed the leaves around she thought about how much she loved fall. She loved the golden-tinged evenings, the blustery wind that carried the smell of woodsmoke, and the pretty yellow leaves. It made her feel.... creative.

"Listen to my song!" Emerson said, throwing leaves around, and singing to the tune of "London Bridge is Falling Down":

Autumn leaves are falling down, falling down, falling down! Autumn leaves are falling down, Oh so pretty!

Mari clapped her hands, and baby Lily waved her little arms. Then she tried to eat a leaf.

"That was a great song, Emerson," said Olivia, as she picked Lily up. "You have a real talent for making up poems and songs."

"Thanks!" said Emerson. "It's easy."

"Again!" Mari shouted.

"I bet you've got one more song hiding in your noggin," Olivia said. "Just one before we need to start heading back home."

Emerson thought for a moment about how spring was like the morning, summer was like the daytime, autumn was like evening, and winter like the night. How each season had its song to sing, and its own special magic.

Then she stood up and spread her arms like the tall maple tree that had shed its leaves.

She began to sing her song to the tune of "Hush, Little Baby".

Harvest moon growing big and round Casting shadows on the ground. Autumn leaves come twirling down, Dressing the earth in her warm nightgown. Shorter days and longer nights, Growing cold in the pale moonlight. Summer's warmth is a faded dream, Spirited away on the last sunbeam.

Emerson curtsied as her sisters applauded.

And that was what gave her THE big idea.

The one that made her explode with excitement.

The next day, she brought all of her friends--Kendall, Willa, Ashlyn, and Camille--to the playhouse.

"I've had the most wonderful idea!" she exclaimed. "You'll love it!"

"What is it?" Willa asked.

"We," said Emerson dramatically, are going to put on a show."

"A show!" echoed the other girls.

"Our show will be called 'Fall for Fall.' It will be all about the things that make us fall in love with fall," said Emerson. "Like the whooshing wind, and falling into a leaf pile, and mud puddles, and a whole tree full of yellow leaves."

"What will we do in the show?" Kendall asked. "I don't know any stories or songs about fall."

"Leave that to me," Emerson said. "I've already got two whole songs for us to perform." She sang them her "falling leaves" song, and her "harvest moon" song, which she had preserved in her notebook.

"Those are really good, Emerson," said Ashlyn. "But will that be enough for an entire show?"

"I can write some more while all of you get everything else ready," Emerson replied.

"Oh, please write a song about mud puddles!" Camille begged. "That's my favorite part of fall. And winter. And summer. And spring!"

"Definitely!" Emerson exclaimed. "I'll get to work right now."

"I think each one of us should have a job to do, to help you make this show happen," Kendall suggested.

"Good idea!" Emerson replied.

"Kendall, you're good at building things, so you're in charge of set design."

"I have tons of ideas for that," Kendall replied.

"Willa, you can gather all the props we need."

"I'll start filling a big bag with colorful leaves we can throw around," Willa said.

"Camille, you like playing dress-up, so you can be in charge of the costumes."

"Ashlyn, you can design the posters and invitations, because you're a good artist."

The girls got to work, each of them humming to themselves one of Emerson's songs.

By the end of the week, all five of them had learned the songs and dances, and were ready to perform for their families and friends.

Emerson had, as she promised, written a song about mud puddles. They all decided it would be the best part of the show.

Finally it was opening night. The curtains parted, and the show began!

Kendall and Camille were the first act in the show. They tossed leaves as they sang to the tune of "London Bridge is Falling Down":

Autumn leaves are falling down, falling down, falling down! Autumn leaves are falling down, Oh, so pretty!

Take some leaves and toss them up, toss them up, toss them up! Take some leaves and toss them up, Oh, so pretty!

The audience clapped. Kendall and Camille bowed, and then ran off the stage.

Ashlyn came out onto the stage, and Willa came out carrying signs she had made to represent each line of the poem Ashlyn recited, called "Yellow Leaves":

When autumn comes We love to see The yellow leaves On every tree.

As yellow as a school bus, Yellow as a pear; Yellow as a dandelion, Yellow as Camille's hair!

As yellow as a lemon, Yellow as the sun; As yellow as the butter On a toasty bun!

Yellow as a ripe banana, Yellow as some cheese; Yellow as the stripes On the bumblebees!

Next came Emerson, reciting a poem she had written:

Windy, windy, blue sky day, Swirl me up and blow me away Lift me like a leaf or kite, Over the treetops, Up out of sight.

She bowed as the audience clapped, but she didn't leave the stage. Instead, the four other girls came on stage.

They twirled in a circle around Emerson, fluttering their hands as if they were falling leaves and fading sunbeams, as she sang her "Harvest Moon" song she had dreamed up while playing in the pile of leaves, the song that gave her the idea for "Fall for Fall".

The last act featured the best song in the show.

They all gathered under the umbrella to sing it, to the tune of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat:"

Rain, rain, rainy day, Splishy-sploshy wet, Muddily puddily, muddily puddily, We love rain, you bet!

After the song, Emerson stepped forward. "Thank you for coming to our show," she said to the audience.

"Hooray!" shouted the audience. The WellieWishers took a bow as the audience clapped and whistled and cheered. "Hooray for the WellieWishers! Bravo!"

After the audience left, the WellieWishers sat on the stage together.

"Our 'Fall for Fall' show wasn't at all the way I'd imagined it to be," said Emerson.

She jumped up and spun on one toe. "It was better!"

And all the WellieWishers cheered, "Hooray for Emerson! Bravo!"

[michael-aftonz]

guess who got back into writing omg... i finally finished this but bear with me, this was the first thing i've written that wasn't academic in literal years but Phew boy. this all stemmed from one single idea and my brain kinda exploded.

DISCLAIMERS:

* vanessa is NOT an afton in this fic. if you believe/hc that she is, this is not the fic for you.

* i DO NOT ship michael and vanessa, anything that happens between them in this fic is platonic + helps to further the plot.

* i am a GAY MALE and can reclaim the f slur.

* this fic contains homophobia and several mentions of the F slur, if this makes you uncomfortable, please skip over this fic or read at your own risk.

* there are descriptions of parental abuse and manipulation. there are also descriptions of anxiety attacks. if these topics make you uncomfortable, please do not read or read at your own risk!

* this is supposed to be set in the early 1980s so i tried to fill it with pop culture from that time, if it seems inaccurate please let me know and i'll find an alternative!

word count: 10,333 words 😦

name: i honestly hadn't thought of one Whoops. if you have any ideas let me know!

characters: michael afton, jeremy fitzgerald, vanessa shelly, william afton and mrs. fitzgerald.

ships: michael afton x jeremy fitzgerald

The three childhood friends were hanging out as usual, playing a very intense game of “truth or dare.” However, things were not turning out the way Michael had hoped. It was his turn once again and his friend Vanessa had an evil grin that spread from ear to ear.

“Okay, Mikey,” she started, practically erupting with excitement, “truth or dare.”

Now, Michael was never one to turn down a dare. However, he felt that this would only end badly. But then again, when was he known to listen to his instincts?

“Dare.”

Vanessa pretended to think for a moment before spouting out, “I've got it! You have to kiss everyone in this room.”

“Seriously, Van?” Michael rolled his eyes, but noticing that Vanessa was, indeed, serious he let out an exasperated groan. “Ugh, fine. But I better not find a polaroid of this on your wall later.”

Easy enough: all he had to do was kiss both Jeremy and Vanessa. No big deal. Besides, it wouldn't mean anything, right?

Michael scooted towards Vanessa first, who made quite a dramatic show of poking her lips out and pointing at them with her index finger. He leaned in and it was over without much further thought.

Now, he turned to his best friend - Jeremy Fitzgerald - and gave a little awkward smile.

“If this is too weird, Mike, I can have her give you another dare. I'm pretty sure she just wanted you to kiss her, anyway,” Jeremy spoke. He was always so considerate.

“It's only weird if you make it weird, man. Besides, a dare’s a dare.”

Michael took a deep breath and pressed a kiss onto Jeremy’s lips. However, this one was different than the previous one. While he felt nothing with Vanessa, his entire body felt like it had gotten set on fire. His heart rate quickened and suddenly the walls felt like they were close in around him. He couldn't breathe.

The only thing that jolted him back to reality was a familiar British voice going “Michael? Your siblings and I are back from the workshop.”

Michael quickly came back to his senses and backed away from Jeremy. He wiped his lips and made a show of being remotely disgusted.

“Ew, Jer, what did you eat? I swear, your breath smelled like salt and vinegar chips.” Michael teased, trying his hardest to make sure no one else noticed his racing heart. What he couldn't figure out, though, is why he had such a different reaction to Jeremy’s kiss than Vanessa's. Maybe, he thought, it's because it wasn't right. Yeah, I'm supposed to kiss girls - not boys. That's the only reasonable explanation; my brain is trying to rationalize why I'd kiss Jeremy of all people.

The night continued semi-peacefully, no other heart racing dares occurred - which Michael appreciated.

The day ended and Michael’s friends went home, leaving him to his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he kept thinking about the events from earlier in the day - more specifically, the kiss between Jeremy and himself. He grabbed his walkman, rewound the tape, and put the headphones over his ears. If he couldn't hear how loud his heart was beating, he could ignore the noise inside his head too. All he needed was to melt into the music. And to never confront this problem. Ever.

Michael drifted off into a fitful sleep - tossing and turning every second. His mind kept returning to his best friend’s kiss; the warmth he felt throughout his entire body, the loud beating of his heart, and the short moment where he could swear he felt Jeremy kiss back. It was all too much for him to handle right now. He needed to talk to someone. Normally, he'd call Jeremy and invite him over, but these circumstances were very different.

He sighed and walked to the landline before imputing the all too familiar number.

She picked up right away, which wasn't surprising.

“Mikey? Is something wrong?” Vanessa's voice sounded through the speaker, full of concern. Michael never called her this late.

“Hey, Ness.. I- uh.. Can you meet me at the park?” Michael whispered, trying his best not to worry his friend any more than he already had.

“Sure thing. But, Mikey, you need to tell me if something is wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll tell you when we get there, okay? It's… hard to explain.”

He didn't even wait on her reply before he hung up the phone and ran to grab his windbreaker. Carefully, he slid open the window and climbed through - making sure not to make any noise. Once he made it through, he silently closed the window all but a crack. He'd need to get back in somehow.

He noticed Vanessa's brightly colored sweater and walked over.

“Thanks for coming. I really needed someone to talk to.” He smiled slightly and pulled her into a hug.

“Of course. You can always talk to me, Mike.” Vanessa smiled back and motioned for the two of them to sit on the bench.

The two sat down and Michael exhaled.

“Vanessa, have you ever… Ugh. I don't know how to word this.” Michael started, slowly hiding his face in his hands.

Vanessa placed a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulders and made a “go on” gesture.

“When you kiss someone, right, you're supposed to… I don't know. Feel something?” Michael continued - growing increasingly more frustrated.

“Typically, yes. If you like that person.” Vanessa replied, a curious look on her face. Could this be what she had hoped?

Michael took another deep breath.

“Vanessa, this might be a weird request.. But.. I need to know if I'm going crazy or not. I.. I need you to kiss me again.”

Vanessa looked at him like he'd just grown two heads.

“You're right, Mike. That is weird. You're being really weird right now.”

“Ness, I know it's strange. I need to test something. Please just do this one thing for me and I won't ask anything weird of you ever again.” Michael pleaded, looking towards his friend.

Vanessa thought for a moment before nodding. She leaned in and placed a small kiss on his lips. Michael waited patiently for something to happen and… Shit Nothing. No electricity, no loud heart beating. Michael pulled away and shrugged.

“Vanessa… You said you were supposed to feel something if you kissed someone you liked, right?” Michael spoke, pursing his lips together and debating if he should actually tell her what was on his mind.

“Mike, you're a great friend… But I don't see you that way,” Vanessa replied, placing a small hand on Michael’s shoulder in a sort of “let him down easy” gesture.

Michael couldn't help but laugh at this. “Vanessa.. I wasn't talking about our kiss. I.. uh.”

Vanessa looked incredibly confused and if she raised her eyebrow any more it might possibly leave her head.

“When.. when we played truth or dare.. Um.. and you told me to kiss everyone in the room.. Well. uh..” Michael stammered, trying to piece his thoughts together, “something.. Happened when I kissed Jeremy. It felt ‘different’ when we kissed than when I kissed him. It felt.. like lightning was coursing through my body. My heart felt like it was going to explode. It was so loud. And then with you.. There was nothing. I really just felt like you needed some chapstick..” He rambled on, looking down and fidgeting with the zipper on his windbreaker.

Vanessa looked oddly relieved that Mike wasn't confessing his feelings for her.

“Mikey, it sounds to me that you might have yourself a little crush on our friend Jerry.” She smiled and patted her friend on the back.

“That's the problem.. I'm not supposed to,” Michael sighed, placing his head into his hands once again, “do you have any idea how my Dad would react if he found out that I…” He shook his head and trailed off.

Vanessa’s smile slightly dropped, “Well.. Don't tell him. Don't tell your Dad. Have you even thought about telling Jeremy?”

“No! I can't tell Jeremy. What if he laughs at me? What if he never wants to see me again? Vanessa, he's my best friend. I can't have him thinking of me like that…” Michael began to sniffle and he hid his head even further.

His friend moved to pat his back but Michael quickly shot off the bench. All his tears began to turn into anger.

“I already get so much shit for my dorky little sister and my wimpy little brother. Do you know how much more I’d get for being a fucking faggot?” He huffed and began to storm back toward his house.

“Mike, wait!”

“You have it so easy, Vanessa! You don't understand.” And before Vanessa could even utter the first syllable of her next word, Michael had already left the park and trudged back towards his house.

He crept back inside the window and marched toward his room - still making sure to be quiet. However, when he was in to his room, he shut his door and angrily threw this windbreaker towards his bed.

Michael sniffled once again, reaching for his walkman and quickly placing the headphones on his ears. As his tape began to play, Michael tucked his head between his knees and tears began streaming down his cheeks.

He had never quite mastered the act of silent crying, but he wasn't as dramatic as his younger brother, either. Michael hated how weak he felt when crying, he also hated how imaginary words from William could ruin his evening.

Michael, himself, didn't even understand why he felt this way about Jeremy. He only knew two things: one, for some reason, he desperately wanted to kiss Jeremy again and two, his father would most likely kill him if he found out. Oh, and three, he hated himself for feeling like this - especially about his friend.

After a few more minutes of quietly sobbing against his bedroom door, Michael had finally stopped crying. He sniffled once again and wiped off his face.

Michael looked up at the flashing alarm clock on his nightstand. 6:00 am. He realized he hadn't slept much the night before - and the guilt of snapping at Vanessa was weighing on him. I should apologize, Michael thought to himself, she was only trying to help, after all.

He took off his headphones and neatly placed his walkman back on the nightstand. He walked outside his bedroom door and noted a small plush fox sitting there with a note that read: Heard you crying. I left my friend because they make me feel better.

Upon reading the note, Michael’s anger slightly returned from the night before. The Crybaby is making fun of me? He picked up the plush toy and ripped apart the seems before throwing it down the hallway.

He scoffed and walked out the door, intent on seeing Vanessa first and apologizing. While on his way towards his friends house, he noticed Jeremy heading the same way. Had Vanessa invited Jeremy here? Did Vanessa tell him what happened between herself and Michael last night? He really hoped not. Yes, Michael had snapped at Vanessa, but he told her everything in confidence.

He tried his best to avoid Jeremy, but something about hm seemed different. Michael couldn't stop noticing little details about him: The way his hair swayed when he walked, the clink of all the patches on his bag, the ever present smile on his face. All of these things were just distracting Michael. He came to apologize to Vanessa, not stare at his best friend.

Michael shook himself out of his stupor and he gave a small wave to Jeremy before going to Vanessa’s door and knocking.

As soon as the door opened, Michael was already rambling.

“Ness, I'm so sorry about last night. I didn't mean to snap at you.. I was just… you know. Overwhelmed.” He pushed himself inside the doorframe and wrapped his friend into a hug.

Vanessa simply nodded and hugged Michael back, “Mikey, I knew you'd be here to apologize so… I invited Jeremy, too. I think you two need to talk.”

A look of shock crosses over Michael's face, but before he could say anything, Jeremy walked in to the room.

“Van? You said you wanted to see me?” Jeremy asked, his voice causing the hair on the back of Michael's neck to stand up.

“Actually, Jerry, Mike has something he needs to talk to you about.” Vanessa responded, smiling from ear to ear. “I'll just be in the other room. You two can talk.”

Michael gave her a subtle “I am going to murder you later” look as Vanessa left the room. Soon, it was just him and Jeremy standing in the walkway of Vanessa's home.

Jeremy gave his typical reassuring smile, which caused Michael's heart to do jumping jacks.

“What's up? Is.. is your dad being weird again?” Jeremy asked, genuine concern filling his voice, and he moved to place a caring hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“That's.. that's the thing, Jer. You’re always so thoughtful and.. you care so much about Vanessa and I. It's really sweet,” Michael started, his nerves being to bubble in his stomach.

“Okay…? I don't really understand what this has to do with anything.. Am I too nice?” Jeremy looked utterly confused (and concerned). He honestly had no idea where this was going but he wanted to be supportive of his friend.

Michael smiled at Jeremy’s response, shaking his head lightly. “No, you're not too nice. You're.. the right amount of nice. I always appreciate everything you do for me. However, I didn't realize that until recently.” He was silent for a moment, weighing how to proceed next. “Jeremy, can I ask you a serious question?”

“Of course, Mike, You can ask me whatever you want. I'll try my best to answer.” Jeremy nodded and sent another reassuring smile at Michael.

Michael took a deep breath and nodded. I'm going to do this. I'm actually going to do this. “Did you… feel.. uh.. feel anything when,” his cheeks flushed a light pink and he began speaking again, much quieter this time, “when we kissed…?”

“I'm sorry? I didn't hear that last part, Mike. Can you repeat that?” Jeremy furrowed his brows, turning his head to his right side – as he is partially deaf in his left ear and hears better on his right side.

Michael closed his eyes and began repeating what he just said, “Did you feel anything… when we kissed?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened slightly and he raised an eyebrow, “Well.. nothing I don't usually feel when I'm around you. What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

Michael was slightly disappointed and then he realized Jeremy asked for clarification. “I mean like.. I don't know. When- when we kissed.. It felt like my body was on fire. My heartbeat was so fast and.. to be honest, I.. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry if this was weir-” He was quickly interrupted by the soft press of Jeremy’s lips against his own. Michael's eyes widened but, once he got his bearings, he leaned into the other.

Jeremy pulled away after a few seconds - but not being the all too familiar shutter-click of Vanessa's polaroid camera went off - and smiled brightly up at Michael.

“I hope that answers your question, Mike.” Jeremy laughed, his own cheeks. “I was really wondering when you'd notice. I.. uh.. I've liked you for a very long time.”

Michael's eyes were still wide and he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. His cheeks were now a bright red. However, he soon snapped out of his daze and realized he heard the camera click.

“Vanessa, PLEASE tell me you didn't take a picture of that!” Michael moved away from Jeremy and pratically sprinted towards the other room.

“Mike, wait!” Jeremy called out as he followed after his two friends.

Vanessa was busy trying to hide and dodge underneath several pieces of furniture while Michael chased her.

“Ness, please give me that picture. You don't know what will happen if my Dad find that. And you know how often he visits your dad. They literally work together.” Michael pleaded, crouching down to try and yank Vanessa out from underneath her bed.

“Fine, fine. Only because you're my friend, Michael. But you owe me film!” Vanessa caved, crawling out from underneath the bed and reluctantly handing over the polaroid.

Michael made a small movement of triumph, however, he quickly turned embarrassed when he took a closer look at the picture (which had almost fully developed by now). Apparently, Michael had placed his hand on the base of Jeremy's neck without noticing and the photo made it look as if he was pulling him in closer.

“So..,” Vanessa started as she took her two friends by their wrists and plopped them down on her bed, “did you two decide what you're going to call.. this?” She motioned to the two of them and raised her eyebrow. “I mean, if you decide to call it anything, that is.”

The boys shrugged and looked at each other. They were both silent for a moment and Jeremy finally spoke. “I know that your dad is.. kinda weird about this type of stuff, but my parents are cool with it. And.. if you're comfortable with it, I'd like to call myself your boyfriend, Mike. At.. at least to my parents.”

Michael remained silent for a moment, thinking over the options. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed his hand inside of Jeremy’s.

“I'd really like that, Jer. I'm just sorry that I can't tell my family. I mean, if my Mom was still here, she'd be supportive.” Michael replied as a small smile spread across his lips. Jeremy nodded and simply pulled him into a side hug. However, the cute moment was soon interrupted by Vanessa throwing herself in between the two and snapping another picture before they could protest.

“At least let me keep this one! It's just the three of us, so it's not incriminating!” Vanessa asked, already moving to make a sprint if she needed.

“Fine, fine. I have no objections there.”

The rest of the evening continued in much of the normal fashion: the three of them playing various games and making fun of each other. However, Michael caught himself glancing over at Jeremy more frequently. Soon, Michael knew it was time to head home.

“Hey, Mike, do you mind if I tag along on your walk home? I live a few minutes away from your place.” Jeremy asked, jogging up beside Michael after he walked out of Vanessa’s house.

Michael nodded with a smile. He'd secretly been hoping that Jeremy would suggest this. He loves Vanessa and all, but he wanted a few moments of just himself and Jeremy.

The lanky boy walked next to Michael and reached for his hand. Michael hesitated for a moment, looking around the neighborhood for any sign of his father, before taking Jeremy’s hand.

They continued on their walk until they were at Michael's doorstep. He said his goodbyes and - even though it hurt his heart - waved instead of sending Jeremy off with something more affectionate.

He fumbled with the door knob, the door then swung open and the creaky hinges alerted anyone within a 1,200 mile radius. Michael physically recoiled at the sound and entered the house - hoping for less noise.

He had made it less than a foot from the door before the trouble began. He noticed it instantly: the disappointed look in his father’s eyes. What did I do now? Michael thought, bracing himself for the worst possible outcome.

“Michael,” the agitating voice stated.

Well. Better get this over with.

“Father,” Michael replied, trying not to make the grit in his teeth obvious with his speech. He hated called William anything formal, especially since he was the only one of his siblings who had to.

“Do you have ANY idea of the distress you caused?”

“No, sir.”

“You know exactly what you did. Your poor brother came into my workshop crying. Do you know why that was?”

“Isn't the little shit always crying?”

“Don't get smart with me, boy. And, you will not use that kind of language when speaking to me, or this will get a whole lot worse for you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael grits his teeth even harder.

“Now, your brother comes to me, and in his hands are the pieces of a prototype product for my new animatronic line. The fox plush.”

Shit.

“Michael, I will ask you one time. What did you do to the product?”

“I didn't know it was important, Father. He was making fun of me and I thought - Hey, he has enough toys. He won't miss this one. I destroyed it... to teach him a lesson.”

“Destroyed it to teach him a lesson? Fascinating. And how would you feel if something like that happened to your precious walkman? Or.. those.. cassette tapes with those grotesque songs you seem to enjoy? Hmm?”

Michael's face fell and he reared back in horror.

“You wouldn't.”

“Oh, believe me, Michael. I would. As a matter of fact, go pick out your favorites and bring them to me. Along with the scissors.”

This completely ruined his good mood from today, but he knew that there was no getting out of this. Michael begrudgingly went into his bedroom, crouched down, and riffled through his box of cassette tapes. Of course, he was smart enough not to choose his actual favorites. He chose some he wouldn't mind losing (probably those he was recommended and didn't like as well as the others) and stashed his favorites inside of his sock drawer - along with the polaroid of himself and Jeremy.

Michael hesitated before handing several tapes and a pair of sharp scissors to his father. He cringed as his father opened the latch that concealed the tape and began unwinding - cutting each segment until all that was left was a pile of tape shreddings and several plastic cases.

“I hope you've learned your lesson, Michael. If this happens again, I will fish around for every single tape you've hidden. Now, clean this up.”

Michael gulped in surprise; how did his father know he had hidden several tapes? His mouth remained agape as he bent down and began cleaning up the remains of his music taste.

The staleness of the room only dimmed his mood: the too dark carpet with mysterious stains, the uneven curtains with several moth-eaten holes, the overall greyness of the place. It wasn't a mystery why William had destroyed his tapes, the man clearly had a love of all things boring and soulless.

Once he had finished, Michael knew he couldn't stay here. He entered his bedroom, making sure to lock the door the from inside. He looked around for a bit before grabbing a draw-string bag from his closet and began stuffing clothes inside of it. All packed, Michael once again cracked open his window and crept outside - leaving it open enough for him to enter once he got back. If he came back, of course.

He really only had one place to go - and the fact that there was only one person he wanted to see.

The gloomy atmosphere from his apartment seemed to drift out into the streets: the skies were much darker than before and there was a certain musk that meant it was going to rain soon. Because of Michael's quick packing, he was ill-prepared for the rain.

Better walk fast, I guess. I've still got three blocks to go. Michael thought to himself, tugging on the strings on his bag to ensure it was secured. However, the rain came much faster than he could walk and soon he was drenched - with still a block and a half to go. There looked to be no end in sight for the sudden monsune of rain. Just my luck. Just my fucking luck.

He began sprinting, his brightly colored sneakers squeaking against the pavement and his body getting continuously soaked. By the time he arrived at Jeremy’s, he looked like a kitten someone had just given a bath - completely soaked and fuming. He hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door.

Who answered, however, was not who he expected. A polite, older woman (who he knew as Mrs. Fitzgerald) answered the door with a look of utter concern.

“Michael, honey! You're soaking wet.” Her smooth voice radiated with motherly concern and the slight southern twang made everything feel more homey.

“I apologize for showing up uninvited, Mrs. Fitzgerald.” Michael replied sheepishly, “I.. I can leave if it's too much of a bother.”

“Nonsense! You get in here and dry off. I'll let Jeremy know you're here. It's a wonder you didn't get swept away in this terrible storm,” Mrs. Fitzgerald replied, opening the door wide enough to let Michael in before closing it to prevent any more cool air from seeping in.

Michael thanked the woman once again and politely wiped his feet on the mat. Mrs. Fitzgerald turned around and looked at his clothes once more.

“Oh dear.. You're completely soaked through. Don't worry, I'm sure either Jeremy or my husband have something you can borrow. I'll get those washed and dried for you soon, sweetheart. You stay right here. I'll go find you something nice.”

Michael nodded, having really no other option than to wait for Mrs. Fitzgerald to come back. Soon the woman returned with a large pile of clothing - from t-shirts with interesting tie-dye patterns to large, oversized sweaters that Michael was pretty sure he could use as a blanket if he needed to. He was soon completely dried and dressed from head to toe in the warmest clothes Jeremy’s mother could stuff him in. He quickly handed his sopping wet clothing to Mrs. Fitzgerald and gave her another round of thanks.

As he did this, Jeremy practically ran down the stairs.

“Mike? Is something wrong?” The blonde asked, concern filling his voice. He moved closer and began checking Michael’s hands and arms for any sign of injuries.

“I'm fine, Jer, seriously.” Michael gave him a reassuring smile and placed a caring hand onto his shoulder, “can we just go talk in your room? I.. I couldn't stay at home tonight.”

Jeremy nodded and motioned for Michael to follow him up the stairs. Once upstairs, Michael was simply blown away. This room was basically identical to the person who lived in it: colorful, full of life, and it had a sort of “I'm at home” feeling. Jeremy’s room at everything - from too many blankets to count to the newest NES system. Michael had only been in here once before, as the three of them usually went to his house or Vanessa's, but it still amazed him how much it replicated Jeremy’s personality.

Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed and motioned for Michael to join him, to which he quickly obliged. The two talked for a while - mostly just Michael avoiding the topic he originally intended to talk about - and eventually Michael grew restless of sitting and laid himself across Jeremy’s lap. Jeremy smiled down at him and absentmindedly began twirling a strand of Michael's long hair around his finger.

“Mike, can you please tell me what happened? I know when you're avoiding talking about something.” Jeremy scolded, a small pout forming on his lips. He had been Michael’s best friend for year, of course he was going to pick up on the little things - especially when Michael wasn't being entirely truthful.

“Fine, fine. I did something stupid, okay? That brat of a brother I have heard something he shouldn't have and I decided he needed a little payback,” Michael started, slightly embarrassed that he'd have to tell this to Jeremy - of all people - because Jeremy was part of the reason he did this, “anyway, so.. I took one of his plush toys that he left in my doorway and I.. ripped it up.”

Jeremy raised his eyebrow, as if to question why this meant he was not able to stay home, but he didn't interrupt Michael.

“Well, it turns out that it didn't actually belong to the little shit. It was something Father was working on. A prototype, I don't know,” Michael made a shrugging gesture and continued with his explanation, “Either way, let's just say he wasn't too thrilled about the damage done to it. And uh.. several of my tapes got the axe. I managed to hide the best ones, but I doubt they'll last for long.”

“That's.. awful. Mike, I'm so sorry.” Jeremy’s frown deepened and he brushed a small strand of Michael’s hair away from his face.

“Nah, I probably had it coming. He just.. he makes me so angry sometimes, Jeremy. I fight so hard for his attention and yet some snot nosed crybaby gets it for free? How is that fair?” Michael's face morphed into a frown and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Aw, Mike. I'm sure he doesn't mean to ignore you. Look, you're wonderful. If he doesn't see that, than it's his problem.” Jeremy leaned over, making his face a few inches away from Michael's, and placing a hand on his chin.

Seeing that Michael’s frown still remained, Jeremy pressed a small kiss against his lips. And another. And another. Until Michael finally smiled and playfully pushed him off.

“Jer, you're going to suffocate me,” Michael teased, laughing as he kept his hand up to prevent any further kiss attacks.

“Well, it's not my fault! I couldn't just let you be sad.”

Michael rolled his eyes and gave Jeremy one more playful shove, “Jeremy Fitzgerald, you are insufferable.” However, Michael was glad for the distraction. He moved from his position on Jeremy's lap and laid down across the end of the blonde’s bed - spreading out like a starfish. Tonight was just perfect; absolutely nothing could ruin Michael's night.

Or so he thought.

–

Back at Michael’s house, everything was not as peaceful as the Fitzgeralds’. William was knocking on Michael's door - but he received no response, obviously.

“Michael? I told you not to lock your door.”

Silence.

“Michael?”

More silence.

William tried the handle one more time, getting increasingly more angry when it continued not to open.

William walked outside, retracing what little footsteps hadn't been washed away in the rainstorm. However, Michael's “sneaky escape” hadn't been as sneaky as he had hoped. William instantly noticed the trampled flowers which Michael had climbed down onto. This caused him to look up and notice the window slightly ajar.

Michael, Michael, Michael.. Oh, I wish I raised you better. William thought to himself, shaking his head with a loud “tsk-tsk.” He quickly hoisted himself onto the ledge and opened the window - making sure to close it at just the right height to make it seem unnoticeable in case Michael returned sooner than he expected.

You've brought this on yourself, Michael. William tsk’d once again before he began rummaging through Michael’s drawers - taking any tape he could find. When he got to the last drawer, however, he noticed something that wasn't.. quite a tape. It was flipped upside down, but it was evident that it was a polaroid of some kind.

William pondered for a moment before picking it up and flipping it over to check the contents. He reared back in horror upon seeing what it was: a picture of his son and some blonde boy together.

William was seething as he crumpled the photo in his palm and he began searching faster for the remaining tapes. Once he had them, William placed all the tapes into a bag and - after unlocking the door - took them outside and grabbed one of his favorite instruments: the hammer.

Smash!

Crunch!

Crack!

William hefted the hammer over his shoulder again and again until there was nothing left but shards of plastic and several unwound tapes. His breathing grew ragged as his anger continued to overtake him. Eventually, he placed the hammer down and stood up - dusting off his pants and walking back inside.

Now, he needed to wait for Michael to return. And where else than his son’s bedroom.

–

Michael had closed his eyes and was listening to the sounds of Jeremy’s room, which were all incredibly calming. He could hear the faint rain against Jeremy's window, the sound of his own breathing, the emptiness in his mind. Everything was quiet, just as it should be. He heard the creak of the steps and the following soft click of the door opening. Jeremy had stepped out a while ago to find them some snacks, and apparently, he had succeeded. The sound of rustling chip bags (and Jeremy struggling to get inside the door) shook Michael out of his stupor and he quickly went to help, opening the door wide enough for Jeremy and his armful of prizes to enter.

“My knight in shining armor,” Jeremy joked, sending a bright smile towards Michael. “I was wondering when you'd open the door.”

“Oh, really? Did I not move fast enough for you, your highness?” Michael teased back and sent and eyeroll towards the blonde. “Here, let me help you.” He grabbed a few of the spoils from Jeremy’s arms and arranged them in a makeshift pile - it wasn't neat, but it was the best he could do without putting them on the floor.

Jeremy thanked him before placing the remaining spoils into the pile - they had enough snacks to last for weeks. Michael sat down and scooped out a handful of chips, popping one into his mouth and occasionally trying to catch them. Jeremy plopped himself down next to Michael and leaned his head against his shoulder. This caused Michael to widen his eyes in surprise. He really didn't know what to do in this situation. He hadn't been in a relationship before - let alone with someone like Jeremy. He hesitated and then placed his hand on Jeremy's lower back.

A soft knock on the door caused Michael to look up. Michael felt his pace quicken: this would be one of Jeremy's parents, which worried him. He knew they were more accepting than his own Father, but he also didn't know what they would be willing to accept. Plus, Jeremy was currently laying against him - which would be hard to explain if they weren't accepting.

Before he could think, the door slowly opened and Mrs Fitzgerald stuck her head inside.

“Oh! Sorry, boys. I didn't realize you were busy! I made some cookies and I.. I wanted to share some with you,” She spoke, slightly embarrassed that they already had so many snacks.

“No thanks, Mom. We’re good,” Jeremy spoke, smiling at his mother. He thought for a moment before adding, “Hey.. Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Come in here.. Uh. Mike and I want to tell you something,” Jeremy spoke, briefly standing up to open the door and motion for his mother in.

Michael locked eyes with his boyfriend as if telepathically saying “are we really doing this??” Jeremy simply laughed in response and walked back over to Michael, offering the brown haired boy his hand. Michael hesitated before taking Jeremy's hand and standing up next to him.

Jeremy took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulders. “Mom.. Michael and I.. are,” he begun shaking a little and Michael quickly turned his head towards Jeremy and gave a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. He quietly whispered something encouraging to the blonde and turned back towards Jeremy’s mother.

“Mom. Michael and I are.. dating. He's my boyfriend,” Jeremy finally managed to speak the words (and release the breath he didn't know he was holding) and then he looked towards his mother, awaiting her response.

Jeremy's mother was silent for a while and then she broke out into a big grin. She moved closer to the two boys and wrapped them into a hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm so happy for you. Thank you so much for telling me,” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke softly, moving her hands and gently cupping Jeremy’s face.

“Mooom, you're embarrassing me,” Jeremy complained, trying to wriggle out of his mother’s grasp. Michael couldn't help but smile at the scene, however, something inside him hurt. He realized he could never experience this situation. To be honest, it made him jealous. But he'd never tell Jeremy that, of course. Just because Michael's family had not been the best didn't mean he needed to ruin someone else’s happiness.

“Oh, Michael, get in here! Let me give you a big hug. You have no idea how happy my Jeremy-Bear is when he talks about you,” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke, quickly moving to drag Michael into the hug once again before he could protest. “I'm very proud of both of you boys. I know it's tough to tell someone something like this.”

She gave them each one more tender, motherly arm squeeze before exiting back down the stairs.

“Your mom is so sweet, Jer,” Michael spoke once Mrs. Fitzgerald had left, though he didn't seem to notice the sadness that had seeped into his voice. But Jeremy did. He always did. He felt Jeremy's arms wrapped around him before he heard him move.

“She loves you, Mike.” Jeremy spoke softly, his grip tightening slightly around the shorter boy.

Michael smiled sadly and nodded before burying his head in the crook of Jeremy's neck. “I'm glad someone does, at least.”

“Don’t you dare say shit like that again, Michael Afton. You have so many people who care about you - my parents, Vanessa, Vanessa’s parents, me! Your dad can go to hell.”

Michael sort of shrugged, but made no effort to respond. Jeremy moved back a bit, gripping Michael by both shoulders, and shook him.

“I’m serious. You're so important to everyone around you. Who cares what your father thinks?”

“Sorry-”

“No. You have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault. Life dealt you a bad hand - but, Mike, you're the strongest person I know. Most people would've crumbled by now.” Jeremy cut him off before Michael could apologize any more, cupping the sides of his face so Michael was looking him in the eye.

“I'm so tired, Jeremy. Everyday he gets worse, I never know when he’ll snap next.”

“Yes, but you shouldn't have to! That's the thing.”

“Please.. can we just drop it?” Michael avoided Jeremy’s gaze and began fidgeting with the sleeves of his borrowed sweater.

“You're right, I'm sorry,” Jeremy apologized and released Michael's face. Then, he realized that Michael probably was physically tired, too. “C'mon, let's head to bed. It's been a wild day. Plus, the rain doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. I'm sure my Mom wouldn't mind you staying the night.”

Before Michael could respond, Jeremy had moved away and began untucking the layers of blankets that seemed to hide his bed.

Jeremy grabbed Michael's wrist and gently pulled him towards the bed and sat him down.

“You can use as many blankets as you want, I don't mind!” Jeremy beamed. He then preceded to have an “oh!” moment and disappeared inside his closet. Michael heard lots of rummaging and his curiosity continued to grow. Soon, Jeremy emerged once again. This time, he was holding a pair of pajamas with various pictures of E.T. littered across them.

“They might be a little big, but you can borrow them for the night,” Jeremy spoke as he walked over and placed them in Michael’s hands, “unless you want to sleep in old jeans..?” He raised an eyebrow, though it was nothing more than teasing.

Michael rolled his eyes, thanked Jeremy, and quickly went to change into the pajamas. Once he returned, he nearly folded his borrowed clothing and placed them on the nearest flat surface. He hesitated a bit - unsure of where he should lay down. However, Jeremy quickly patted the spot next to him on his bed.

“I don't mind sharing, really. And! I don't bite. Mostly,” Jeremy reassured the shorter as he scooted over to make room. “Besides, we did this at plenty of sleep overs before. Just think of it like that!”

Michael nodded and laid down next to Jeremy, who gave him another reassuring smile. “Thanks. I'm sorry for imposing myself on you, especially without calling first.” He whispered while pulling some blankets over the two of them.

“Nah, don't worry about it. You're welcome any time you like.”

The two sat in silence for a while and eventually Jeremy began to drift off. Michael hesitated, thinking over his next decision carefully, and then impulsively turned and rested his head against Jeremy's chest.

Jeremy let out a sleepy “huh?” at the feeling of weight on his chest and then smiled when he realized what Michael had done. He let his arms naturally fall and land on Michael's upper back, however one moved to its earlier position of twirling a few strands of Michael's hair around his fingers.

A few more minutes of silence pass and Jeremy begins to drift off once again, however he is quickly interrupted.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked quietly, waiting a bit to see if Jeremy had fully fallen asleep.

“Mm?” Jeremy replied with a sleepy mumble.

“Why is everything in my life so difficult?”

“I don't know, Mike.. I really don't know.”

Michael sighed and decided that would be the best answer he'd get - unless he wanted some sort of religious spiel about certain plans and whatnot. He left Jeremy return to sleep before joining him a few minutes later. He decided he better enjoy this moment while it lasted, despite the bubbling anxiety that was welling up in his stomach. He certainly didn't look forward to returning home tomorrow.

One problem at a time, Mike. One problem at a time. He thought to himself as he was finally able to drift off to sleep.

–

Turns out it would be several problems at one time.

Michael dressed in his (now clean and dry, thanks to Mrs. Fitzgerald) clothes from the previous day and began his trek back to his own apartment - making sure to pick a time he knew William would be working in the hellscape he called his workshop.

He carefully retraced his usual path and made it to the front lawn. Taking another step, Michael heard a loud crunch. He looked around noticed several objects glinting in the sun and went over to investigate. Michael felt his heart sank when he realized it was pieces of plastic. He knelt down and took a closer look, finding the pieces of all his favorite tapes. And, he was pretty sure he had his favorite songs stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Damn it, Michael thought as he sighed and moved away from the pile of plastic scraps, I guess he noticed I was gone.

He shook his head and continued toward his bedroom window - which looked exactly the same as he had left it the night before.

Not thinking anything of it, and with the rain having washed away any evidence of William’s entrance, Michael pushed open his window and hoisted himself inside. He landed with a small “oomph” and dusted his pants off. While dusting his pants, however, he noticed another shadow present in the room. He slowly looked up and locked eyes with none other than William himself.

“William Michael Afton, where have you been?” William spoke, his arms crossed over his chest and he stood in a powerful stance. However, Michael noticed there was something crumpled in his left fist.

“Don't fucking call me that. My name is Michael,” Michael spat back, absolutely seething at being called his legal name - no one EVER called him by that, he'd probably punch them if they did.

“I wouldn't be so sure, Junior. You see, I was the one who named you. I think I know what your name is.” There he went again, dismissing Michael's entire personhood. Well, it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. Michael used to cry every night until his Mother finally agreed to let him go by Michael instead.

“Anyway, you haven't answered my question. Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been?” William spoke again, moving closer and jabbing a finger harshly into Michael's ribs with every word. “Answer me.”

“Nowhere, sir.”

“Are you sure that's the answer you want to go with?” William narrows his eyes, leaning over his son in an attempt to make him cave in; shrink himself down and disappear. After all, that's what he wants. For Michael to disappear.

Michael briefly glanced at his father's eyes, noting the only emotions present were anger and boredom. That's how he always looked at Michael, though sometimes there was a sprinkle of disappointment. He looked back at the floor and gulped. Just tell him, Egghead. He already knows you left. He mentally scolded himself before speaking.

“A friend’s. I was at a friend’s house, Father.”

“Hmm,” William pursed his lips and scrutinized Michael’s body language and tone for any hint of dishonesty. “Which friend, exactly?”

Michael gulped once again. If he told him, he risked putting Jeremy in danger. But if he didn't, then he put himself in danger. No big deal, he could handle that. But he desperately wanted to protect Jeremy, so he remained silent.

“Answer me, goddamn it!” William raised his voice, his hand flying to the collar of Michael's shirt. Michael still remained silent, even as William had slammed him into the bookshelf and sent several personal objects (some of them glass) cascading to the floor with a loud crash.

Michael had to bite his lip to avoid crying out in pain - he was sure that he would have a few bruises, most likely cuts too, since the glasses broke on the impact and gashed through his windbreaker, managing to hit skin. Another large glass photo frame crashed into his face and left a large gash across his left eye and a bruise across his cheekbone.

“Your silence is not his protection, you know,” William whispered, setting Michael back on the ground and releasing his collar.

“W.. what are you talking about?” Michael spoke, straightening his jacket and still refusing to look at William.

“Don't play dumb with me,” William finally unfurled his left fist and revealed a crumpled up polaroid. Michael's heart sank once again; he knew exactly what that was. “If that faggot Fitzgerald is making you think you're one of those queers, I will never let you see him again.”

“N-no.. that's not.. He's not.. Uh.. I'm not-” Michael shook his head furiously, scrambling to come up with an excuse.

“I don't care what he does in his own home, but he will not infect mine. Not with this.. disease,” William scoffed and shoved the polaroid into Michael’s face - trying to emphasize what exactly the ‘disease’ was.

“If you ever pull something like this again, I will destroy more things than you cassette tapes, William Michael Afton.”

“Stop. Stop fucking calling me that,” Michael finally broke out of his stupor and began shaking uncontrollably. His anger was beginning to take control of him and he hated how much it made him look like William.

“Just.. leave me alone. I'm not gay, alright! It was just some stupid dare. It didn't mean anything. Vanessa took the picture as a joke, okay? It's all one big fucking joke!” The words felt like poison leaving Michael's mouth, they burned as they bubbled through his throat. He felt awful for not being able to defend himself or Jeremy. He felt awful that William was his father. He just felt awful.

“Good. Then you won't be needing this, will you?” William asked, the hatred evident in his voice. Michael looked up just as he heard the first rip - right through Jeremy’s face on the polaroid. He felt a pang in his heart but simply shook his head “no.” William continued until the entire thing was no more than a few paper scraps with what remained of Jeremy and Michael’s facial features.

“Oh, and clean up this room.” And with that, William stormed out once again. Michael slid down the backside of his door and crumpled to his knees. He had never felt so empty and alone in his life. He desperately wanted to cry but he would not give William the satisfaction over controlling his emotions. He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not cry.

A single tear began trailing down his cheek. He would cry.

–

Brrng Brrrng

The phone rang for what felt like the seventeenth time. It was getting on William’s nerves. He started to call out for someone else to answer it, but he couldn't exactly say “hey, Michael, I know we had a little argument yesterday but can you answer the phone? Pretty please??” and bat his eyelids. He groaned and rolled up his oil-covered sleeves, grabbing the nearest cloth like object and wiping off his hands.

William begrudgingly answered the phone with a slightly annoyed sounding “'Ello?”

“Mr. Afton! I'm sorry. I was trying to reach Michael.. we were supposed to hang out today,” the voice spoke through the speaker. It sounded very embarrassed to have called the wrong person.

“Who is this?”

“Oh! Umm.. It’s Jeremy, sir. Jeremy Fitzgerald?... Michael's.. best friend..?”

“Ah. Fitzgerald, yes. I remember… Michael is not available right now. He seems to.. have come down with a cold. He was complaining about.. cold rain and having to walk through it earlier.” William scrambled to come up with an excuse. This was the boy who was fond of his son? Now was the perfect chance to ruin whatever budding relationship they might've had.

“Actually, Johnny,”

“Jeremy.”

“Whatever. Let me see if Michael will be willing to take your call.”

William had the perfect plan, and it involved his newest prototype: the Hand Unit, now with built in voice synthesizer and voice capture abilities. Of course, William who was always plotting, and had recorded his argument with Michael the night before. He fiddled around with the buttons on the Hand Unit and switched it to the “angsty teen” setting - one he designed specifically to sound like Michael. Once he had it set up, he took his hand off of the receiver and made a test ‘hello?’

“Mike? Oh, thank God! I was worried you'd never pick up.” Jeremy's voice sounded through the speaker once again and William scowled at the relief he heard. Teenagers are so gullible these days.

“Jeremy?” William typed into the touchpad on the Hand Unit, amazed at his own handiwork and how clear it came out.

“Are you still able to come over today?”

William pressed a few more buttons, spewing out the first of the pre-recorded messages: “What are you talking about?”

“Don't you remember? You said you'd try to come over later today.”

William rolled his eyes and began flipping a few switches. It's now or never, I guess. He thought to himself as he searched through the messages for the real zinger: “Just.. leave me alone.”

“What..?”

“I'm not gay, alright! It was just some stupid dare. It didn't mean anything. Vanessa took the picture as a joke, okay? It's all one big fucking joke!” William’s lips moved into an evil smile as he awaited Jeremy’s response. This is more fun than I imagined. He thought to himself, giving him an imaginary pat on the back.

“Mike? You.. you don't mean that, right?” The hurt in the boy’s voice almost made William feel bad. Almost.

He had one final phrase to say and loaded it in as fast as he could: “Stop fucking calling me.”

Just as the Hand Unit finished the last sentence, it began to short out. William groaned in frustration and accidentally took his hand off the receiver, “Blasted thing. I thought I fixed that.” However, William did not realize that Jeremy very clearly heard that. William quickly hung up the phone and returned to his work, which now included fixing the Hand Unit.

Jeremy was a mixture of hurt and confused, had Michael actually said those things? And what was that strange thing Mr. Afton had said? “Blasted thing?” Something seemed fishy here, and he was going to figure out what happened.

–

Jeremy practically stormed out of his house, sprinting down the sidewalk as fast as his lanky build could carry him. By the time he arrived at the Afton’s doorstep, he was out of breath. He quickly knocked on the front door before hunching over to regain control of his breathing.

No answer. That's odd. They always answer on the first knock. Jeremy thought to himself. How else could he get in? And then it hit him; Michael's window. He grabbed a few pebbles (in case the window wasn't already open) and trekked around the side of the building.

Just his luck, the window was firmly shut. Jeremy selected a medium sized pebble, said a silent prayer that this glass was reinforced, and gently threw the pebble towards the small window. It landed against the glass with a small thump. Jeremy thanked whatever higher being that it hadn't shattered instantly

Seeing that there was no response to the first pebble, Jeremy picked up another and threw it much harder.

Michael glanced over at the sudden noise, just in time to see a small object land against his window. He pushed himself off the floor - wincing slightly as his injuries were still fresh (and had been left untreated). He shuffled over and glanced outside. Seeing that someone was outside (and actively throwing pebbles), Michael opened his window and tried to get a better look.

“Jeremy? What are you doing here?” Michael asked - confusion and a headache swarmed around his skull.

“Mike! I tried the front door but no one answered. I needed to talk to you in person.” Jeremy looked relieved when Michael had actually opened the doors. He placed down his handful of pebbles and began climbing in through the window.

Once he was inside, he dusted himself off and then finally looked at Michael.

“Oh.. Mike, what happened?” Jeremy walked over and gently grabbed Michael's chin, turning his head towards the light so he could better see the damage. The entire left side of Michael's face was swollen and slightly purple from the new bruising. Jeremy subconsciously ran his thumb over Michael's swollen lip, though he quickly moved his hand back when Michael flinched.

Jeremy took a closer look at the room and quickly noticed the large amount of broken glass that little Michael's bedroom floor.

“I'm fine, Jeremy. I.. tripped… into the bookshelf. And took a picture frame right to the face,” Michael quickly lied, even adding a chuckle to make it seem more accident like.

“We need to get you to a doctor, Michael. This could be seriously infected!” Jeremy moved back over to Michael and motioned to his injured face.

“No!” Michael snapped, then realized his tone and softened his words as he continued speaking, “No doctors. They'll.. they'll ask questions I'm not prepared to answer, okay? I'm fine.”

“Fine, but at least let me use a first aid kit, okay? I don't want there to be an infection,” Jeremy didn't even wait on a reply before fishing around in his bag full of necessary items, that he ALWAYS carried with him, and pulling out a small, travel sized first aid kit.

Jeremy sat down on Michael's bed and motioned for him to sit down as well. Michael obliged, though he was hesitant to let Jeremy doctor his wounds.

“By the way, Mike,” Jeremy began speaking in between Michael's winces as the cold antiseptic touched his face, “did you answer the phone earlier?”

“No..? I haven't left my room all day,” Michael shrugged and motioned to the state he was currently in, “Besides, Father banned me from using the phones.”

“Then.. who did I speak to earlier? It sounded just like you.. and you said some really mean things.” Jeremy's brow furrowed as he thought back to the earlier phone conversation.

Michael's eyes widened. Someone had spoken to Jeremy and pretended to be him? Not only that, but they apparently said something awful?

“If.. you don't mind me asking, what sort of things were said?” Michael asked, glancing up at Jeremy - who was still in deep thought.

“Well, first of all, you acted like you had no idea about our plans. Then, you started saying that.. that everything was just a joke and that you only did this because it was a dare. And that it meant nothing.. It really hurt to hear you say that,” Jeremy frowned, scanning Michael's face for any recognition for the words.

“Did the person say anything else?”

“Well, you said.. ‘stop fucking calling me’. And then the phone hung up.” Jeremy shrugged and searched his own memory for anything else that happened.

Michael's own expression was one of horror, he had recalled all of those things - but he distinctly remembered saying them to his father, not Jeremy.

“Jeremy, all those things.. They were part of an argument with my Father. He.. I was just trying to protect you. I didn't mean anything I said to him. I don't know how you heard it, but none of it was true,” Michael spoke softly, reaching over and gently squeezing Jeremy's hand.

“And that last part?”

“He kept calling me by my legal name - not Michael. The full context was ‘stop fucking calling me that'. I would never tell you to stop calling me.” Michael noticed how hurt Jeremy had seemed and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, “Please believe me, Jer. I'm sorry if my image was used to hurt you.”

Jeremy leaned into Michael's hand before placing his own on top of it. “I do believe you. But there was something else. Something weird.”

“What?”

“After the last sentence, it didn't instantly hang up. It sounded like wires shortcircuiting - oh, and I heard someone say ‘Blasted thing’,” Jeremy recalled, trying to give Michael as much detail as possible to help solve this mystery, “any ideas?”

Michael's expression dropped: he knew exactly what this was. “My father.”

Jeremy cocked his head to the side, clearly confused by this statement, “What do you mean by that?”

“My father. He's the one behind it. He.. he threatened that I would never be able to talk to you again. I.. I didn't know he'd do something like this, though.” Michael shook his head as the dots all seemed to connect in his brain.

Jeremy made another sort of ‘okay he's lost his mind’ gesture and his confusion continued to grow.

“Jeremy, he makes things. It's not impossible he could make something that captured the argument he and I had. What if.. what if he used that to try and dissuade you from.. from seeing me.” Michael placed his hand on Jeremy's shoulder and continued to gesture with his other. His eyes were wild as he realized just how far his father planned ahead. His breathing grew faster and his chest felt tight. How much had his father known? What else would he know?

Everything was too loud. Michael felt as if the walls were closing in around him. He began shaking once again. He didn't even seem to notice Jeremy calling his name. He was having an anxiety attack. Michael hadn't experienced one this bad since after his mother had passed away. Everything felt distant and like it was too close at the same time.

“Mike? Mike?” Jeremy's concerned voice couldn't reach him. “Michael?” The concern grew even louder.

Jeremy hesitated before placing his hands on both sides of Michael's face. “Mike, look at me. You're okay. It's okay.”

Michael remained frozen in place for a few more seconds until he felt the warmth of Jeremy’s hands against his cheeks. He slowly came back to reality, focusing on Jeremy's face instead of his overwhelming thoughts.

Jeremy stayed like that until Michael had calmed down enough to speak.

“I'm sorry for scaring you, Jer..” He trailed off, still worked up from the moments before.

Jeremy simply shook his head and wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling him as close as he could and hugging him as tightly as he dared - he was still unsure where else the injuries had spread and didn't want to harm Michael even more. Jeremy kept repeating “it's okay, you're okay” while gently rubbing his hand up and down Michael's back.

Michael sank into Jeremy’s arms and sniffled slightly. Jeremy placed a gentle kiss onto the top of Michael's hair.

“We’ll figure this out, Mike. Together.” Jeremy spoke before resting his chin on the top of his head. “We don't have to do anything right now, okay?”

Michael nodded and remained in this position until he completely calmed down.

“Jeremy, can we leave? Tonight? I don't want to be around him anymore.” Michael asked as he finally removed his head off of Jeremy's shoulder. He looked up at him hopefully, eagerly awaiting his response.

“Okay. If you want to,” Jeremy spoke, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind Michael's ear, “I'm sure my mom won't mind.”

So the two packed until Michael's room was completely empty. They carried as much as their backpacks could hold. Then they ran as fast as their legs could carry them. They ran until they were gasping for air.

The two of them soon arrived at the Fitzgerald household - where Mrs. Fitzgerald let them in without any questions. She was familiar with William's harsh parenting styles and knew that questions made Michael uncomfortable.

She quickly hugged Michael and agreed to let him stay as long as he wanted. Michael felt the burning of tears well up in his eyes. It's been a long time since he had a place where he felt wanted. It was quite nice.

[sastiel-is-my-serotonin]

saw your post about sastiel cuddling and sams default spot being the crook of cas's neck ITS REALLY CUTRRTIUGFKJCVFGKLCK hear me out sam is hurt badly on a hunt so cant really sit in the passengers seat so he and cas are awkwardly cuddling in the back of the impala while dean is trying to rush them back to the bunker

As I was falling asleep the scene was playing out.. I had to write it real quick:

One moment, Sam had been gathering the attention of all the vamps, taking the attention off of Dean, next thing everything slowed as he was pushed back, landing hard on his back.

A sharp loud ringing pierced his ears, his head pounding as he tried to keep his eyes open. He saw Dean standing over him, shouting, "Sammy!"

Or trying to, the words never made it to Sam's ears.

"Cas! I need your help!" Dean shouted, looking away from his brother for a moment, seeing the angel kill a vamp, disregarding it like it's nothing.

Castiel wasn't quick enough to stop the other vampire from tackling Dean to the ground, Castiel waved a hand over the Winchesters, sending a prayer to God that this goes well.

Dean watched as Castiel opened their mouth, looking as if they were screaming, but Dean couldn't hear a single thing, but the vampire he was desperately trying to keep away from his neck, it's head exploded, as did every other vampire in sight.

Looking back at Castiel, he saw the angel wave over him, "We need to take the rubble off of him-"

"Since when can you do that?" Dean asked, wearily following the angel, planning to help, but the angel picked up the rubble as if it weighed nothing.

"Since always, please focus Dean," Castiel said, moving the last piece off of Sam before dropping down, holding Sam's face, "He lost a lot of blood."

Dean jumped back into gear looking at his sickly pale brother, "Heal him!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Castiel asked, numerous marks, scratches, bruises, and broken bones healed right away.

Dean could tell though Sam still wasn't okay yet, "From this angle it looks like you're just cradling his face! What's the problem?"

Castiel rolled their eyes, "I'm not-" they deeply sighed, "Sam lost a lot of blood. I can't replenish it. My healing can only go so far."

Dean wiped his face, "How? You pieced me back together no problem!"

"You weren't lacking a significant amount of blood, and I had the power of Heaven to ensure you were saved. Sam doesn't." Castiel told him, and shook their head, "If I was an archangel I could, but I'm barely an angel."

Dean bit his tongue, his frustration wasn't Castiel, and normally that wouldn't stop him but they needed to get out of here now, "Pick him up, we can't heal him here."

Castiel didn't comment about the fact that they were already picking Sam up, the pacing from Dean told Castiel enough that Dean was terrified.

Sam's eyes were barely open, unable to focus on anything, Castiel picked him up bridal style, being careful as they got back to the Impala, "How healed is he?" Dean asked as he opened the door.

"Everything is intact except for his blood, he can't support his head, or anything else for that matter." Castiel told Dean, "I'll hold onto him for the drive."

Dean looked like he wanted to argue again but he turned around and kicked something instead, Castiel focused on helping Sam into the car, settling the hunter in their arms.

Carefully adjusting Sam so he laid on them and didn't move too much, Dean slammed the door shut, running to the other side, pulling out of the vampires nest miles quicker than they had entered. Hauling ass to get back to the bunker.

"Sam has a spell to help replenish blood, it's in the bunker, I can execute it when we get back." Castiel told Dean, looking at Sam, and at the road, "How long will it take us to get back?"

Dean glanced back, picking up speed, "Not long. I don't care what I have to do, we're getting there now."

Castiel had a feeling it wouldn't be fast enough, "Pull over," Castiel demanded.

Dean looked back at Castiel as if they had grown a second head, "What?"

The angel repeated, "Pull over, now."

Dean found himself pulling over despite himself, "Cover your eyes," was the only warning Dean got before a flashing light happened behind him.

"Drive," Castiel told him, and Dean did, he realized what the angel was doing and despised him for it.

"What the Hell was any of that?" Dean demanded to know.

Castiel slowly looked up, "A last resort." Sam held onto Castiel, and looked up confused.

"Cas?" Sam asked, and glanced over at Dean who was staring back.

"Sam," Castiel responded back, Sam moved more his arms underneath the angel's coat, cold. The angel noticed Sam's shivering and transferred more heat to him.

Sam melted into it, he was cramped and uncomfortable, but warmer as Castiel held onto him with Dean's harsh driving, "I was dying."

Castiel swallowed hard, "You lost a lot of blood. I can't heal that."

Sam nodded, he knew that, it's why he came up with a solution for blood loss, "So how am I alive?"

Dean turned his attention to that, "Yeah, Cas. What the fuck was that light show?"

The angel sighed deeply, "I gave Sam a substantial amount of my grace. Almost enough for depletion..."

Sam frowned, holding tightly onto Castiel's trench coat, "Why would you do that, Cas, you were almost fully powered."

Castiel smiled softly at Sam, "Because I needed you to survive. I'll be okay, I'll heal, as will you."

Sam knew how proud Castiel had been to have more of their powers back, bouncing off the walls at the thought of being able to fly again, all of it was gone now.

"Sam, I'll have time to replenish my grace, but I would've burned through it all if it meant I could save you." The angel told Sam, pushing back a stray hair that covered Sam's face.

"Did we win?" Sam asked, looking at Dean who nodded.

"Of course we did, apparently we don't want to hear Castiel's singing voice, not if we want to keep our heads." Dean joked, although he shivered seeing how effective it was. Glancing at Sam, he'd been reminded what it meant for Castiel to be an angel today, Castiel was determined to keep Sam alive. No matter what it took.

Castiel rolled their eyes at Dean's comment, "I didn't sing, it was more of a powerful screech."

"Do I want to know?" Sam asked, looking between the two, Castiel shook their head.

"It doesn't matter, how do you feel?" Castiel asked.

Sam was cold, ached a lot, but, "I'm mostly fine. A bit cold, sluggish, and goddamn I feel a bus hit me, but besides that, I'm dandy."

"You're description of fine distrurbs me greatly," Castiel commented, "But I can feel you're doing better."

Dean shook his head, "Cas, next time, use your singing voice and save us the trouble of Sam trying to make himself an angel."

Castiel rolled their eyes, "I won't be able to for a while," they glanced at Sam, "But if I need to, I will."

Sam yawned, and let his head fall into the crook of Castiel's neck, "Since I'm not actively dying, I deserve a nap."

Castiel smiled, and moved themselves where it was easier for Sam to lay down a bit more. Not that there was any real room for it, Sam wasn't complaining though. Not at all.

[theresawritesstuff]

A stressed out Lenny telling the kids that they don’t cause him stress

First of all, and I say this affectionately, how dare you? The feelings inflicted when first reading this prompt… Anyway, enjoy!

***

Lenny lit another cigarette as he sat down at his typewriter (again) after a contemplative (anxious) bout of pacing. 

He was hanging onto his cabaret licence by the skin of his teeth and had taken up some writing gigs to help them through while he was laying low at the insistence of his lawyers.

He and Midge had only been married for a few months. And up until the ticking time bomb on his career had (more imminently) threatened to explode, they had been by far the happiest months of his entire life.

He'd been staying clean, enjoying getting a second chance at fatherhood, at doing right by Kitty as well as Ethan and Esther.

He had a stable partner he could trust. Someone who loves him.

He just couldn't seem to stop getting arrested.

He tried to skirt the line, play nice. But he knew deep down he'd still say what he really meant.

And so did the boys in blue.

So he'd traded punchlines for deadlines.

Because as much as he didn't want to lose his career, he couldn't lose being with his family.

He'd be lying if he said the stress didn't have him jonesing for a hit, even now, over a year clean.

He took a long, steady drag as he stared down at the blank page in front of him, letting the lesser vice take a little of the edge off.

It didn't help much but it was something.

Now if he could just get this damn article written…

A sharp, persistent knock at the front door broke his concentration.

He ignored it.

Then they found the doorbell.

With a final groan, Lenny got up to answer the door, if for no other reason then to tell whoever it was to fuck off.

"Joel?"

"Lenny…" The younger man shifted his weight, averting his eyes awkwardly as an Ethan shaped blur bounded past him and into the apartment, followed shortly by Esther. 

Lenny glanced back over his shoulder, trying to trace the kids' trajectory.

Midge's ex stepped passed him inside, and he allowed it, if nothing else but out of curiosity as to why his stepkids were being brought back early and unannounced.

Joel got ahead of the question, explaining brusquely, "Look, I know I'm supposed to have them until tomorrow but there's an emergency down at the club I gotta take care of."

"Delivery running late?" Lenny snarked, taking another drag.

Joel shot him an indignant look. "No. I let Archie hire this acrobatics act. But I guess they're part of some rival family to the Lins and now they're in a standoff with each other and Archie is trapped under the bar."

He ducked his head into the hallway, calling out, "Hey Midge, you've got two more for dinner!"

Lenny exhaled slowly.

How had she ever been married to this schmuck?

"Midge isn't home. She's got a gig," Lenny informed him.

Joel looked up at him startled.

He shouldn't be. It wasn't an abnormal occurrence. Her career had really taken off since she started featuring on Gordon's show regularly.

'Can't you call her and have her cancel?"

Lenny stubbed out his cigarette in an ash tray rather than dignify the question by looking at him.

"No."

Joel shifted his weight. "I don't suppose Zelda…"

Lenny exhaled tiredly. "Zelda doesn't work for us."

She had been kind enough to drop off Kitty at a friend's slumber party for him tonight so he could focus on meeting his deadline, but Joel didn't need to know that.

"Right. But maybe Abe and Rose…"

"They're in DC. They won't be dropping by this evening either."

"Oh."

The awkward silence that fell between them was split by their mutual son yelling from the other room.

"Esther, did you take my superman comics?!"

"Noooo!" came his sister's reply, from somewhere else in the apartment.

Lenny winced.

These kids were picking up one too many loud Maisel family habits…

He rubbed his temple as Joel continued to vacillate in the hall entry. "Just go. I'll handle it."

Joel looked down the hall after the kids, uncertain. "You seem busy. Maybe I could call–"

"Door is behind you in case you forgot," Lenny reminded him, walking away.

Joel started to follow at his heels. "You know my folks are only–"

"Joel," Lenny snapped, halting in his tracks. He exhaled slowly, remembering to lower his volume for the sake of the kids. "Whether you like it or not, I am these kids' stepfather now. Caring for them was part of the job description. They're safer here than in a gang war. I've got this. Go. Before Archie earns himself a purple heart protecting the good booze."

As much as he clearly hated it, the younger man knew he was right. "Okay… yeah, okay."

Without a word to the kids, he turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

"Fuck," Lenny muttered under his breath.

He trudged into the kitchen and began looking through the pantry for something to feed the three of them.

"Lenny! Esther took my–"

"We have other books here, you know. You don't have to fight over the newsprints," Lenny sighed, not up for playing referee.

"...Okay." 

Ethan hovered skeptically at his elbow. "What are you doing?"

"You kids haven't had dinner yet," he reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but…Do you even know how to cook?"

Lenny bit his tongue. "Fed myself just fine most of my life."

"Esther doesn't like canned beans," Ethan reminded him.

"I wasn't looking for– You know what? I think Imogene left a meatloaf or something here last time she was over. Let's do that," he suggested, pivoting towards the fridge.

"Isn't it frozen?" Ethan wondered. 

Lenny shrugged as he rummaged through the ice box. "So we'll bump the oven up a bit. It will be fine."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Meatloaf acquired, he placed the pan in the oven and turned it on, letting it do it's thing.

"There. Toss in a few potatoes and we'll be eating within the hour. Think you'll survive?"

Ethan nodded.

"Good. Now go do your homework or something while I work on churning out this article. And no pestering each other while I do, got it?"

His son nodded again.

"Good."

After scrubbing a couple of potatoes and unceremoniously tossing them in with the meatloaf, he was back to his typewriter.

He'd managed to write two paragraphs before the sound of crashing plates met his ears.

He found Esther perched on the countertop, looking down completely mortified over a broken plate on the floor, the other unbroken dishes clutched tight in her little hands.

'Esther, what are you doing?" Lenny sighed, picking her up off the counter and setting her down.

Fancy fucking schools with fucking jungle gyms teaching these kids to climb.

"I just wanted to help," she said.

'Okay just don't touch that. You'll cut yourself," he warned, stopping her before she could pick up the broken plate. "Just go play. I'll get the broom."

"Sorry," she whispered.

Poor kid just wanted to set the table.

"It's just a plate sweetie. We've got others," he assured her.

"Lenny?" Ethan popped his head back in the kitchen.

He let out a groan, kneeling tiredly on the linoleum. "Yeah?"

"Is meatloaf supposed to smell like that?"

Lenny sniffed.

"Shit."

He scrambled for an oven mitt, pulling the pan from the oven.

The sauce Imogene had slathered on top was scorched. The inside, upon inspection, remained raw.

"Damn it," Lenny whispered, tossing the oven mitt down in defeat, sinking into a chair.

"Sorry pop dropped us on you," Ethan murmured quietly.

"We can have peanut butter sandwiches or something," Esther suggested.

Lenny looked up at his kids, because blood or not they were his now too as far as he was concerned.

"This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault, understood?"

The pair nodded quietly. Appeasingly.

Damnit…

Lenny rubbed his brow tiredly. "Look… I'm not gonna lie to you kids, your old man didn't pick a great night to drop in unannounced, but that doesn't mean I want you kids gone. You are the least stressful part of my evening. I love you. You know that, right?"

Esther draped her little arms around his shoulders quietly. "We love you, too."

After a moment, Ethan asked, "Do we even have peanut butter right now?"

Lenny smirked.

"Your mom was planning on getting groceries tomorrow."

"Oh…"

"Tell you what." Lenny tapped the table, getting to his feet. "Go find something to watch on TV. We'll do popcorn and a movie together."

"What about your article?" Esther wondered.

 "I'll work on my article later. Right now I'm focusing on spending time with you two."

Ethan looked at him skeptically. "You sure?"

Lenny smirked, hefting the bag of corn kernels from the pantry in his hand. "Your mother's been telling me I need to take a break anyway. Don't tell her this but I think she might be right."

That finally earned a genuine smile from the kids.

"Off you go. You know where the remote is," he shooed good-naturedly, smiling to himself as he watched them scamper off.

Maybe a break really is what he needed.

Later that night, Midge tiptoed in, pausing at the doorway to the living room at the sight of a blanket fort in the middle of the room, her son's distinctive snore emanating from somewhere inside. 

Popcorn bowls were stacked neatly by the remote, and the sound of rhythmic typing bandied back and forth with Ethan's snoring.

She found Lenny in his office, typing away, looking more himself than he had in weeks.

"Hey," she murmured from the doorway.

He looked up with that soft smile he saved only for her. "Hey."

"Did you know Ethan and Esther are–"

He nodded, looking over his work for errors. "Joel had an emergency. I got the better end of the deal. How was the gig?"

"Good. Great crowd."

"The Copa knows how to pack 'em in."

She smiled, coming in to stand behind him, kissing his cheek before draping her arms around his neck. "You seem to have had a busy night."

He shrugged, inclining his face towards hers. "All in a night's work."

"Looks like you finally had a breakthrough."

Lenny chuckled. "Something like that. Almost finished."

"I'll leave you to it then," she offered, patting his shoulder.

"Hey…" He reached up, holding her hand tight before she could slip away. "In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I really love this little family we've cobbled together."

Midge melted just a touch, marveling at the little ways he could still make her fall in love with him all over again.

Bending down, she gave him a lingering kiss, resting her head against his when they parted.

"We're lucky to have you."