#anyway i’m gonna go lay facedown on the floor

[ghosttotheparty]

I have never smiled as much as i have reading "love me softly." I cried a little bit halfway through. My chest hurts so bad but in like... a good way. Idk if youll have another shoe dropping but im not even worried cause with eddie and tommy and wayne and linda and gareth there literally everything will be ok no matter what happens. God. Im. Thank you

i should really stop opening tumblr in public i almost crying in line at mcdonald’s

you have srsly no idea how happy this ask make me i honestly can’t stop smiling; and for some reason it makes me so emotional that you’re not worried?? that you trust me??? going through it

there is a slight other shoe that’s going to drop in love me softly but i think you’re right to not be worried; everything is going to work out the boys are going to be happy

[cyberphuck]

ROYAL ASSASSIN ABRIDGED: PART TWO

My friend Razz wants to understand my shitposting about Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy, but they don’t want to actually have to read the books, so I’m summarizing it for them (and you)! (Check out all the other entries in the Farseer Trilogy Abridged series at the masterpost. Also if you think I’m funny you can send me a ko-fi from there.)

EDIT: added some strikethroughs where they were supposed to go and put something funny where I had just left the reminder to write something funny. Last Time on Dragon Book Z (rip Toriyama sensei), Fitz finally made it home from the mountains. He’d seen via Skill-o-Vision that Molly had been viked by Vikings, and he was desperate to see if she’d flagged herself ‘safe’ from Being Raided on Facebook…

The next day, Fitz is minding his own business being told by Cook Sara that he looks like shit when he spontaneously decides to climb sixty four flights of stairs. Considering that his tiny teenaged body is still 89% poison by volume and he just got home from the worst road trip of his life (so far!), by the time he gets to the top he's facedown on the floor, pushing himself along by his toes.

  “Hello, Lil Accident,” Verity says, putting down his binoculars. “Wow, you look like shit.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Fitz mumbles to the floor. ”You look a lot less skeletal than when I last saw you.“

  ”Thanks! I had sex.“

  Fitz tries to get up and fails. ”I didn't even know you'd be up here.”

  “Aha, but you see, I Skilled you here, and you didn't even know it. In fact I've been balls-deep in your brain for a week with you none the wiser, because this is a thing I can do with the Skill.“

  Fitz spits out a mouthful of dust. ”Wow, when do I get to learn that kind of thing?“

  ”Never,“ Verity smiles, turning back to the window. ”Come look at my ships.“

  Dragging himself up to the windowsill, Fitz peeks out. “Neat! We'll be able to defend ourselves against the Vikings with these for sure!“

  ”Yes,” Verity growls. “And I can't wait to continue the cycle of violence by going all the way to the Viking home planet and viking them back!“

  Somewhere downstairs, the Fool rubs his temples, sighing loudly.

  ”Anyway, now that I've forced you to climb all the way up here, let's go back down so I can get something to eat.” Verity picks Fitz up by the scruff of his neck. “I want to hear all about your little trip to the Big Onion.“

  They head down to Verity's man cave, and after watching 'ASSASSIN'S APPRENTICE ENDING EXPLAINED— WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO AUGUST,' Verity reads the comments, most of which point out that Regal should have totally died in a fire for plotting to kill his own brother and murdering a bunch of the wedding party.

  Fitz looks at the hay bale in the corner, where the Fool is updating his Linkedin. ”Listen, I have a way bigger part in this book than the last one,“ the Fool says without looking up. ”I'm not gonna have time to re-explain who everybody is to you whenever you want. I've got a big death scene coming up.“

  ”You're going to die?!“ Fitz cries.

  ”Someone is,“ the Fool murmurs.

  ”You're probably wondering why I haven't punished Regal for any of the stuff he did last book,“ Verity says, steepling his fingers. ”And the truth is, I'm not going to, because he'll just throw a temper tantrum about it and I don't want to deal with that.“

  ”What if he tries to kill one of us again?“

  ”Pff, don't worry about it, Lil Accident.“ Verity waves him off. ”You can take tomorrow off to go look for your dead girlfriend.“

  Fitz stands up. ”Thanks Prince Verity, I'm gonna go have a seizure before bed.“

  But as soon as he steps out of the room, Lacey jumpscares him and drags him off to go see Lady Patience, who is laying in a pile of her current hyperfixations. ”You missed the wedding,” she says accusingly.

  ”Sorry, Mrs. My Dead Dad's Wife,“ Fitz sighs. ”Regal tried to, uh, do whatever the opposite of poisoning me and trying to drown me is, and now whenever I get excited I fall over.“ He accepts a glass of wine from Lacey, then dumps it over his head. “I've gotta move on to the next plot point now.”

  Fitz is staggering up the stairs, leaving a wet smear of Rosé after him, when a Servant Girl comes to take his arm. “Here, sir,” she says sweetly. “Let me help you weave drunkenly back to your chambers. Wouldn't want you falling down the stairs and breaking your stupid lying neck.”

  “Thanks, mysterious servant girl. You can drop me off at the corner, I’ll walk from here.”

  But instead of letting him have a seizure in peace, the Servant Girl punches him in the gut and kicks him in the nads, because she's Molly!

  “Holy shit, you're alive!” Fitz sobs. “Oh man, I had a vision that you got viked, it was awful—”

  Molly kicks him in the nads again. “I did get viked, and afterwards I came here looking for you to ask you to loan me some cash, or get married to me. My dumb ass went around to all the servants going 'hey, have you seen the scribe's apprentice, he looks just like FitzChivalry Farseer,' and someone filmed me and made a TikTok titled 'tfw you find out your boyfriend is really The Bastard.'”

  “Oh,” Fitz cringes.

  “Yeah 'oh,'” Molly says. “It has sixteen million views and hashtag Cat-Fitzed is trending on Twitter.”

  “It's called X now,” Fitz squeaks. “What about the older, hotter guy I saw you walking off with?“

  ”That was my cousin,“ Molly snarls. ”Do you think I'd date someone with an earring?“

  “Gosh, it's a good thing I don't wear one of those,” Fitz says, polishing his collar.

  ”Anyway, you're gross and I hate you,“ Molly declares. ”Do not, under any circumstances, continue to attempt to woo me. Goodbye.”

  Despite Fitz's best efforts, he continues to have a seizure any time he tries to do anything except have a seizure. Even into the next day, he's still ragdolling like a character in a seventy dollar video game on release day. The Fool appears briefly to catch a glimpse of Fitz in his underwear, but before they can do any real flirting, Lacey and Patience show up again.

  “Listen, Prince Dumbass,” Patience says, “you fucked up bigtime letting Molly think she was in your league. She came here thinking you'd grown up in a double-wide same as her, drinking off-brand kool aid and saving butter containers to use as tupperware. When people found out you lied to her, they started calling her a hump-and-dump.”

  “But we never even humped,” Fitz objects.

  “And it's a good thing, too, because as royalty you're only allowed to hump at the King's pleasure. Princes are not allowed to run around sticking their dick in whoever they want, that's how we ended up with you. You'd just make a bunch more Fitzes, and we don't have enough paid extras anymore to traumatize *all* of those kids.”

  “We could drown them,” Lacey suggests, working on a cross-stitch that says 'GALS BEING PALS.'

  ”They wouldn't be Fitzes if me and miss Molly got married,“ Fitz says. ”I'll just go and do that real quick.“

  Patience whacks him in the head with a rolled up newspaper. ”No! You're going to marry whoever the King tells you to marry, and no one else. We learned our lesson with Chivalry: we can never, ever allow you to have any control over your life whatsoever, and that includes caring about anyone other than whoever is wearing a crown that day. Besides, didn't you already sign a contract to do whatever King Shrewd told you to do without question forever?”

  “I was nine, I don't really feel like that was binding—”

  Patience grabs Fitz by the front of his shirt and jerks him forward. “Do not,” she says, “have sex with Molly. Do NOT have sex with Molly. DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH MOLLY.”

  “No promises,” Fitz shrugs. “Hey, do you have a backstory other than being the ADHD widow of my deadbeat dad?”

  Patience runs away crying. As soon as she's gone, Chade shows up. “Hey,” he says gently. “Don't cry. Kettricken's dad roped her into a political marriage and now she's miserable and lonely. That can happen for you, too.”

  “This sucks,” Fitz moans.

  “Remember not to have sex with Molly,“ Chade says as he crawls back into his wall-hole.

  ”Whatever. I'm going down into town to find my soulmate.”

  Fitz, wearing his slouchiest beanie, his blackest hoodie, and his unhappiest expression of teenaged angst, stomps down the road into Buckkeep town, hands shoved in his pockets. “Stupid Farseers,” he mutters. ”Always hasslin' me and tellin' me what to do. What do they know? Man, nobody understands what it's like to be me.“

  *Oh, you you think you got it bad, little bitch boy?*

  The entire fandom erupts into cheers and applause as the character in possession of the single teaspoon of sense in the entire series arrives.

  Fitz looks up, snarling, and locks eyes with a wolf trapped in a cage labeled 'ESSENTIAL NPC'. The angry little ball of fluff is just one of many wares sold by a dude in a full body fursuit. “Good morrow, emo child,” Fursuit says, oozing greasily forward. “I see you eyeballing that young cub. You know, an animal like that could really be useful if, say, you were a royal Bastard with Doctor Doolittle magic who was sent out to fight zombies a lot.“

  ”I'll trade you a pack of gum for him,“ Fitz offers.

  ”He's worth way more than that,“ Fursuit says. ”I went through all the trouble of building a rocketship for his wolf-mother and wolf-siblings so they could return to their home planet.“

  *I'll kick your ass! I'll kick everyone's ass! I'll kick my own ass!!*

  *'Shut up, I'm negotiating!'*

  ”A pack of gum AND this cool rock I found,“ Fitz bargains expertly, then kicks Fursuit in the shin, grabs the wolf, and runs off.

  Fitz carries Wolfcub back up to Buckkeep, looking forward to the 'wrestling with a wild animal to show dominance' scene, but then realizes that the cub is too weak and tiny to put up a good fight. What was even the point of having a pet wolf if he couldn't have a badass fight with it and then stand shirtless against the sunrise? Also, Fitz has already had two canines in his life bond to him and then have to return to their home planets, and he's kind of tired of that happening.

  *'My apartment has a no pets policy, so you're gonna have to stay in the tool shed,'* he tells Wolfcub. *'Don't wit-bond to me.'*

  Then, with nothing better to do, he leaves to go do the thing Patience and Chade explicitly told him not to: Have Sex With Molly.  ”The fuck is wrong with you lately?“ Burrich asks, some days later while he and Fitz are hanging out at the bar.

  Fitz sighs. ”I keep trying to have sex with Molly, but things are always getting in the way of my dick," he says mournfully.

  ”Mm. Been there,“ Burrich mutters, pulling down his sleeve to cover up his 'PATIENCE CHIVALRY BITTERNESS AND BURRICH 4 EVER' tattoo. ”Which one is Molly?“

  ”The hot one that kicks people in the nuts.“

  ”Oh, yeah. Half my age. I like that in a girl,“ Burrich says, and everybody decides to just go with it. ”Here's my advice to you: give up and move on. Get your post-rejection glow up, and your girl will go off to marry someone else.“

  ”That sounds like it sucks,“ Fitz says doubtfully. “When do I finally get to have sex with her?”

  Burrich grins. “That's the neat thing! You don't.”

  The next morning, Fitz gets out of bed, takes a big, cleansing breath, then puts his earbuds in and turns on his Montage Song.

  “Time for that glow up,” he says really loudly because he can't hear himself over the music.

  'Cause baby you're a firework

Fitz wrapping measuring tape around his bicep and frowning;

come on and show 'em what you're worth

running laps around the castle with Wolfcub chasing after him;

make 'em go oh! oh! Oh!

standing on one foot like in Karate Kid while Pat Morita decomposes nearby;

as you you shoot across the sky-ay-ay

Burrich taking away his AXE body spray and shoving him into the shower;

baby you're a firework!

carb-loading at the local Fantasy Pizzeria;

come on and let your colors burst

lifting weights while Wolfcub tries to bite him;

make 'em go oh! oh! Oh!

measuring his bicep again, and nodding in satisfaction.

you're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

  “I'm bored,” Kettricken sighs as she and Fitz hang out with Kettricken's entourage. “I wish Verity would get me pregnant.“

  ”How can you be bored with fifty people constantly offering to play with you?“ Fitz says. ”Also, ew.“

  ”I could be back home fighting bears and lifting sacks over my head,” Kettricken whines, “but I'm stuck here in Lamesville with these boring losers and my husband is constantly off doing Skill stuff instead of having sex with me. Lady Modesty is constantly suggesting we watch the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice,” she adds, disgusted.

  Fitz slaps her. “Your job here isn't to be butch! This castle has been a fucking sausage party for years, and the best person to Girlboss it up is you. That means making moodboards, drinking iced coffees, doing each other's nails and YES, watching the objectively worse version of Pride and Prejudice! Look at Lady Hopeful, she's unironically singing along to 'I Knew You Were Trouble'! Now suck it up, buttercup, and go watch the part where Mr. Darcy confesses his love to Elizabeth!”

  “Yes sir,” Kettricken mumbles.

  “Bastard, first name The?“ a messenger says as he clips through the wall. ”King Shrewd finally wants to see you.“

  Fitz stands up, brushes himself off, and heads up to Grandpa's house...

[ohlawdthebirds]

Sick Little Baby.

This was a request from the lovely @punkrockmads! Thank you so much for the request! My inbox is unfortunately closed atm, since I'm still getting back into the swing of writing and school is gonna start up for me soon.

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: None, unless you count a small mention of blood towards the end.

Summary: Abby is sick. You take care of her. Cuteness ensues.

Abby was typically a cautious person. She never left the base without at least three weapons, kept ammo tucked into the many pockets her cargos provided, and never rounded corners without first peering around them to make sure no one would run into her. So it came as a complete surprise when you met up with her in the stadium’s cafeteria and found her nearly facedown in her oatmeal. You slid onto the bench next to her, gently tapping her shoulder. She startled, shooting up and nearly toppling over her bowl. You were about to ask what was wrong when Manny beat you to it. He sauntered up to the table, a tray balanced on one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “Yo Abs, you good? Hermana, you look like a Bloater jumped you.” 

It was true. The closer you looked, the worse Abby seemed. Her eyes were lined with deep gray shadows, there was a red tint to her nose, strands of dirty blonde stuck to her sweaty forehead, and her breathing was labored. You placed the back of your hand against her forehead and confirmed your suspicions- she was sick. “Oh, my poor, sick little baby.” You scooted the tray away from your girlfriend, looped both arms under hers and tugged her from the table. Abby grunted, shifting away from your touch. “M’fine,” she wheezed, “It’s just a cold.” “Abby, your forehead is burning up and you can barely stand. You probably have the flu, my love. Manny, could you go tell Issac his super soldier won’t be reporting for duty today?”

Manny nodded, promising to do so once he finished his breakfast. Abby squinted down at you. “What about you?” “You’re in luck, sweetness. I just so happened to have today off.” You lugged Abby back to her room despite her protests and made her sit on the bed. “Where are you going?” She whined as you walked back to the door. “I’m gonna go see if Nora has any cold and flu meds.” “Great, I’ll go with you! I need more bandages anyways.” Abby attempted to stand before a wave of dizziness hit her and she stumbled forward. You lunged out and caught her by the shoulders before she chipped a tooth on the floor. 

You sat Abby on the bed again. “Dude, are you crazy?! You have a fever, there’s no way I’m letting you out of this room until you get better.” Abby’s bottom lip jutted out, a move she only pulled when she wanted to convince you of something. “Babe, I’m fine, honest. Just lost my balance a little. The trip won’t even take that long!” You doubled down. “Exactly! You just lost your balance! I’ve seen you hold a plank for 10 minutes, you don’t ever lose your balance! Just stay here, the trip won’t even take that long. In the meantime you should take a shower or something. You stink.” Abby sniffed at her shirt and grimaced. “Okay, okay. Yes ma’am.” Tossing you a mock salute, Abby lumbered off in the direction of the bathrooms while you scurried off to find Nora. 

You jogged back towards Abby’s room, arms full of the meds Nora was thankfully able to secure, a few soup cans lying around the community pantry, and bags of Abby’s favorite peppermint tea. The door opened to reveal Abby curled up in her bed with a blanket over her lap. A well-worn paperback was between her massive hands, the damp ends of her freshly washed hair almost brushing the pages. She looked up as you stepped into the room. You set everything on the counter before once again laying your hand against her forehead. She leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. “Your hands are sweaty.” She murmured. A huff of air escaped your nostrils in lieu of a laugh. “C’mon sweetness, let's get you these meds and straight to sleep.” Now it was Abby’s turn to huff out a laugh. “There’s nothing straight about us.” You snorted at that and moved to get the meds and a glass of water. You handed everything to your girlfriend before moving to get into the bed with her. A theatrical gasp left Abby, who moved to wrap you in her tree trunk-esque arms. “You aren’t worried about me getting you sick?” You snuggled deeper into her arms. “I’m actually hoping you get me sick too. I want a few days off.” Abby let out a belly laugh that quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. Once she calmed down the two of you resumed cuddling, Abby having pushed her book into your hands. “Can you read to me? Your voice makes me feel better.” Your face warmed at that and you pressed a kiss in the space between Abby’s eyes.

The both of you shifted around until Abby had her head in your lap and you had the book out in front of you. You began reading out loud, only stopping once to comment on your lover’s choice of literature- “Really babe? You’re into bodice rippers? I mean seriously, this has got to be some of the most toe-curling, back-arching smut I’ve seen in a while.” Abby only buried her face in your lap and hacked out a combination of laughs and coughs.

The rest of the day was spent napping, sipping soup you had warmed straight from the can, and reading aloud from the novel in your hands. The light from the window slowly faded into oranges, reds, and yellows while two mug of freshly brewed tea sat on Abby’s nightstand. Your lover picked at the hangnails protruding from her calloused fingertips, a habit she wanly promised to stop when she noticed you staring at the tiny beads of blood that occasionally pooled around her cuticles.

All too soon, the book was finished and the both of you were seemingly exhausted, though your workload for the day had been light. You shifted to turn out the light that was switched on earlier but found yourself stuck in place. Abby, in her sick stupor, had you in a vice-like grip. You already knew from past experience that escape was near-impossible unless you tickled her under the armpits. But, seeing as how she was still fever-ridden, you decided to be a just and merciful girlfriend and let her sleep. You swept back the hairs that hung in Abby’s face, laying your head on the pillow right next to hers. A kiss was pressed between her brows, eliciting little more than a sleepy grunt from her lips. You smiled. You knew tomorrow would likely be a barrage of sneezing, coughing, and sleeping. But Abby was yours to take care of. After all, what else were apocalypse girlfriends for?

[toomuchdickfort]

Fuck I wish I had reasonable bones

[queenofhearts7378]

Secret Quartet Pride One Shot sequel?

Maybe not the sequel you were expecting, but I could not get this put of my head

____________________

Danny picked up first, "Okay KitKat, what could possibly be so important that you panic text us during lunch and then refuse to answer other than a vague keysmash and shocked cat emojis, and then FaceTime us."

Jake's face popped up on the screen, "You're lucky we know the difference between your 'I'm a mess and panicking' texting, and your 'serious emergency' texting….oh."

Nino waved.

"Sup Nino!" Randy greeted, "Where's Adrien?"

Nino snorted and tilted the phone down. Adrien was currently facedown in Nino's lap and making various distressed noises as Nino petted him.

He tilted the phone back up, "It’s not as bad as my dude's making it out to be. He came out to the class today.”

“That’s….good? Bad? WTJ, I don’t know y’all’s class!” Randy threw his hands in the hair, accidentally throwing is phone in the air.

“”Y’all’s.’” Danny repeated.

“Nah it wasn’t bad. Totally valid. Just….” Nino snickered, “Embarrassing for him.”

“So what happened?”

“Madame Bustier had stepped out for a little bit, and we were all chatting. And we got to talking about superheroes.”

____________________

"Ladybug is not the Captain America of Paris."

"Totally is!"

Alya hummed, "I just don't see it? I mean she's totally all for punching nazis and terrorists, Hawkmoth anybody? But personality and power wise?? Nah."

"Marvel or DC?" Nathaniel asked, "Cause if we're talking heroes in general; power and personality wise she's totally Wonder Woman."

"I wonder what superhero I'd be," Alix mused.

"Flash." The whole class said in a once in a lifetime synchronization. 

"Gotta go fast." Nathaniel smirked at her and she threw a paper ball at him.

"Max is clearly Iron Man." Kim spoke up, "But he'd be better."

Max tilted his head, "That would be the most probable hero identity going off skill set only. Personality wise however?"

"I'd be Batman." Juleka said, "That'd be awesome."

"An emo everyone has a healthy amount of fear of that's secretly a softie underneath and in love with a cute blonde." Alix nodded. "I can see it."

"Are you implying Rose is Catwoman?"

"If anyone in here is Catwoman, it's Marinette." Alya said, ignoring said girl's splutters.

"That's legit….I'd totally be a Ninja Turtle." Nino said.

Half the class booed at him.

"Stick to Marvel or DC!" Alya tossed her pencil at him.

He caught it laughing, "Fine! I'd be Hawkeye. Dude doesn't get enough respect in the hero biz."

He turned to Adrien, who was focusing on finishing up some homework. "Bro what about you? Who'd you be?"

"Spider-Man."

Alya snorted at the ready-to-go answer, "Spider-Man seriously? Why?"

"I swing both ways like him."

Adrien didn't notice the class go dead quiet after that as he finished the last few problems. Then he froze.

"I didn't mean to say that out loud." He breathed to himself, though everyone could hear it in the silence.

____________________

Adrien groaned into Nino's lap again. Danny was absolutely losing it on his screen.

"Are you telling me-" Jake snickered, "Are you telling me you came out early to your class, because you couldn't resist making a pun?"

Adrien just groaned again.

"How'd the rest of the class take it?"

"Bout the same as you guys." Nino said with a grin.

____________________

Alix was the first one to absolutely lose it, Kim following her seconds later.

Rose squealed, "Bi buddies! We finally have five! It rhymes now!"

"That was an embarrassing way to come out to us." Chloe sniffed, "Thought you'd do one of your little heartfelt speeches."

Alya had a hand over her mouth trying to hide her laughter while Marinette just looked like her soul left her body.

Nino was snickering, but he pulled Adrien into a one armed hug, "Bro, you're so valid. But you doing okay?"

"That wasn't how I wanted to come out to you guys!" Adrien whined, tucking himself into Nino's side.

Mylene took pity on him and said, "It's okay Adrien! We're glad you're comfortable enough with us to be yourself!"

Alya controlled herself enough to ask, "Wait, how did you want to come out to us?"

Adrien flushed, "I was just gonna put 'It's me:' in the class chat followed by a pic of the bisexual flag."

That set everybody off laughing like crazy again. Alya shrieked with laughter while Matinette's head hit her desk with a quiet thunk. Alix had slid from her chair and was laying flat on the floor as she howled with laughter.

Mrs. Bustier finally came back only to find her class in absolute hysterics.

_____________________

"Adrien, buddy," Randy snickered, "You dumb cat that was how you came out to us!"

"So I knew it worked."

Nino ruffled his hair, "It's alright. We know you're a hot mess and we love you anyways."

Adrien sat up just to hit him with a pillow.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Peter Parker’s Younger Sibling

Peter Parker x sibling!reader

warnings: bullying mention, blood mention

a/n: a fuckin reach, its been a WHILE since ive seen tasm

prompt: y/n is peter’s sibling

peter and you were playful kids

you were just a year and some months younger than him, so you had a harder time remembering your parents than him

but he always told you stories about them that made you miss them a little more

peter was a genius, we all know it

he was the one helping you with your homework most nights

“peter i cant do it!”

“that’s okay, y/n. look, start with two times four, that’s eight, then four times six, twenty-four, right?”

“can i say a cuss word?”

“sure”

“math is shit”

you would cry during homework a lot

you’d also pass out on his floor after talking for hours

and you’d either wake up facedown on the floor or in your room since uncle ben would pick you up and put you to bed

peter took it upon himself to take you back to your room, but he usually dragged you by the arm, sooooo

you’d play action figures together

he was batman, you were robin always

“can i be batman?”

“oldest gets to be batman so im batman”

“but i wanna be batman!”

peter walked you to your school before taking off on his skateboard

and he’d pick you up on his way home

on half-days your brother taught you how to skate

you fell a lot

aunt may had to patch you up

“how many times do i have to tell you those skateboards are dangerous?!”

peter got you your own skateboard so that you could practice without him

you would text him after you did a trick and he’d always say hell yes! show me when i get home!

being his photography assistant

really you were his assistant constantly

science fair was the most boring day of the year

“y/n, stand right here, i need to get something from my locker”

*judges walk up while youre left unattended and in a state of PANIC*

you were bullied in middle school, same as peter, he’d always stick up for you and get beat up instead

it made you very mad but it was scary, too

“how’d you get into this fight, peter?”

“oh, you know, just happened”

“peter was sticking up for me, uncle ben”

“was he now? you’re a good brother, peter”

lonely when he moved onto high school :/

but you got there soon enough

you guys were kind of loners, just ate lunch together, lugged around your skateboards, you were an artist, he was a photographer

just spectating the chaos of high school, rolling your eyes at the drama

“i have two bucks, do you want anything from the vending machine?”

“uhh, a coke?”

you saw peter get bullied by flash and lost your shitttt

you actually started a food fight after throwing mashed potatoes in his eyes

“what the hell, parker?!”

“sit down and eat your goddamn food, flash, or next time it wont be potatoes”

peter was half-proud, half-embarrassed

trying to see how long you could skate through the halls before any authority figures stopped you

sometimes......you guys got sent to the office together :)

*phone ringing* “hello, is this ben parker?”

“which one of them is it this time?”

the principal’s office was a trip sometimes

you and peter exchange your glances and wait to get scolded

“ah, the parkers, come in, lets have a chat...why do you two always feel the need to get in trouble together?”

“we just happen to get along really well for siblings”

no you fuckin dont lmaoooo

it was always something with you two

like always

*banging on peter’s door* “I KNOW YOU HAVE MY BROWNIES, PETER, GIVE THEM BACK”

*peter through a mouthful of brownies* “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT, YOURE CRAZY”

“is that my jacket?” -peter

“you mean my jacket?”

“y/n, i swear to god if you steal any more of my clothes it’s over for you”

“well, aunt may keeps giving me your clothes, so take it up with her”

and then there was just the little annoying things

“peter, can you stop clicking your pen?”

*clicks pen faster*

“you’re the worst”

and my personal favorite

“peter, open the door”

“why?”

“emergency”

*opens bedroom door* “what?”

“aunt may is making meatloaf”

“shit, uh...get your board, we’ll skate to mcdonalds and tell her we already ate”

peter and you RARELY ever brought your parents up until he found your dad’s briefcase, you didn’t have much to say

soon he was flooding his room with conspiracies and pulling you in to explain them

he began acting REALLY weird, but he was pretty open with you, he told you he went to oscorp

“YOU SNUCK IN??”

“your standards for me are way too high, y/n”

soon you started to feel not-so-good and weird things started to happen

“peter??”

“yeah? whats up?”

“this is gonna sound really weird...my hand is stuck to the door”

“it happened to you, too??”

“happening, pete. wait—this happened to you?? what is this???????”

yall done fucked up and got bit by spiders peter had so carelessly brought back into the house

it was an adjustment to say the least

and this adjustment got a whole lot harder that one night...you can remember peter just...so upset

you tried to chase him out to make sure he was okay, but uncle ben told you to stay with your aunt

maybe if you’d have been there...it would’ve been different, but when the cops got to your house you were at a loss for words

peter was covered in his blood still

“hey, hey, just breathe, okay? it’s not your fault, peter. just hop in the shower, yeah? i’ll take care of your clothes”

when peter took your advice and you were left alone, you just cried, you cried until he finally found you curled up in a ball in your room

then he cried, you just hugged each other sobbing your eyes out

peter got distant for a while, which was rough since the two of your were mourning for your uncle and dealing with these newfound powers

sooner or later he came around and helped you out, designing webshooters and a suit for you

“we match?”

*sigh* “yeah...yeah, we match”

ah yes, spider-team

you really tripped out new york at first, they thought spider-man was a teleporter

peter was still talking about your dad, but you really didn’t care, uncle ben was always going to be who raised you

you and peter would be covered in bruises after going out

“uh—peter punched me”

“y/n???!!!”

“I PANICKED”

just being dumb scared teens that cant function to save their lives until they get a little bit lucky

seriously like, every big villain you guys fought was just the worst

peter didn’t help all the time, he was good at provoking them sometimes

“hey, spider-man, you mind shutting up for a minute? for my sake?”

“sorry, sorry, just couldn’t help myself!”

he gushed to you about gwen stacy, he actually dragged you to her apartment to be patched up by her SEVERAL TIMES

yadda yadda yadda peter graduated high school! how cool is that? but he was late (what a surprise) even though you put off spidering today just for this

but he made it and you clapped the loudest for him

“thats my brotherrrr!!!”

cute family picture! (aunt may printed a bunch of them and gave them to you two and peter pinned them to his wall)

you and peter actually have a lot of pictures of the two of you just goofing off

he has one of you stuck in a trash can that cracks him up every time

seeing harry osborn again after YEARS

“wow, y/n, last time i saw you i just thought you were peter’s annoying little sibling”

“aww, it’s good to see you, too”

electrooooo

this guy really worried you bc like, bzzzz shock

you and peter weren’t equipped for that

it took a while, but you were finally able to deal with that

and several other problems

including peter’s breakup, which was a whole ordeal of its own

*peter laying upside down on your bed* “i dont know, y/n, you know? i wanna be with her so bad, i love her...but her dad is haunting me”

*you, drawing on your notepad with your legs propped up on his* “yeah, makes sense”

you actually had to tap out during the end of electro, you were hurt pretty bad

“y/n, hey? yeah, you’re okay. stay here, just stay right there, i’m gonna be back for you”

*thumbs up to show youre still alive*

but when peter came back for you there was bad news, he’d lost gwen

he ripped his mask off and fell to his knees, you could barely move but you powered through it, giving him a hug while he cried

“we...we better get home before aunt may starts to worry”

she was at work, so you two had the place to yourselves to clean up and mourn before the official news was revealed

“i should have listened to her dad, y/n, this is all my fault”

he was a mess, you couldn’t bare seeing him like this. it’s been so long since you’d seen him like this

the funeral was rough, peter was grasping onto your shoulder the whole time

he insisted that he was going to stick behind and stay with gwen for a while

“okay, i’ll see you at home...love you”

“love you too”

you gave him a hug and left him to his business, the next few months you were the only spider-person operating in new york...until rhino popped up

“im coming with you”

“you’re sure?”

“yeah, im sure”

(these are kinda ass but anyways im tagging my marvel ppl even tho ik this isnt mcu so just ignore this post if you dont care, sorry!!)

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @allthecreativeonesaretaken // @frostedgiant // @praellee // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs //

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #27

I severely overestimated my ability to write with a broken tailbone, y’all. x) Like, it hurts to sit so it’s really hard to work on my laptop. But I’m gonna try! I’ve made it this far!!!

xxx ok, who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?

“Get him inside, hurry!” Clay commands turning the lights on as they enter the abandoned dwelling-turned-safe house. It’s the new guy, this time. Only been with them for three months. Clay and the others were fine without him, but the boss had insisted because apparently someone who understands all that techy hacker bullshit is a “necessity”.

The techie is currently being supported by Roque on one side and Pooch on the other. He’s barely standing, which, Clay has to remind himself, is better than not standing at all. He’s not shouting anymore, either, which seems like less of a good thing. He’s gone quiet, and it’s the quiet that Clay knows comes with shock. His glasses had gotten lost somewhere on the way back, and the humidity and sweat have plastered his usually styled hair to his forehead, and he just looks really young.

Clay hates it. 

“Lay him down,” he says, though the guys already know what they’re doing. 

Jensen lets out a small cry as Roque and Pooch carefully lower him to the ground, facedown. 

“Hey, you with us new guy?” Roque says. 

“With you,” Jensen gasps, eyes squeezed shut in pain. 

Cougar steps forward now and pulls one of the knives from his belt, cutting the back of Jensen’s shirt open. Clay doesn’t need to see it to know it’s bad. He can see it in the slight widening of the Colombian’s eyes, and in the way Roque winces and Pooch averts his eyes. But he looks anyway, and it’s worse than he thought.

The machete wound starts at the top of Jensen’s right shoulder, arching slightly toward the center of his back before curving back toward the outside of his ribcage. Clay has seen plenty of knife wounds, but this is different--the wound is less of a cut and more of a valley, with a wide opening that closes down to a v at the bottom. If it had been any closer to Jensen’s spine, he’d be paralyzed, or dead. 

“‘sit bad?” Jensen’s voice is high and tight. When there’s no response, he tries to lift his head, craning his neck to look at Clay, his voice taking on more panic. “Colonel, ‘sit bad?”

Clay can feel the other men looking at him, and he takes a deep breath. 

“It’s not good,” he says, and Jensen lets out a sound that Clay knows is the sound that comes from trying desperately not to make a sound. “Cougar, you got this?”

Cougar’s lips are pursed tightly, and he nods once. He hasn’t said it, but for whatever reason he’d taken to the chatty Jensen right away, and it’s clear he’s worried about the newest team member.

“Whaddya need?” Roque asks. 

“My med bag and the strongest alcohol you can find,” Cougar says, stepping into the tiny bathroom to wash up. 

“I got the bag,” Roque says. “Pooch, you got the booze?”

“On it!”

And then it’s just Clay and Jensen in the living room, Jensen breathing in quiet gasps, his fists clenching and unclenching. Beneath the blood, his skin is pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, and there are tiny tremors running through him. Clay kneels down next to him so Jensen can look up at him.

“How’re you doing, soldier?” he says.

“Doin’ great, Colonel. Might, uh...might be b-better once I get some of the alcohol in me.”

Clay grimaces. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, I don’t think it’s for you to drink.”

Jensen lets out a groan. “Course not...If, uh. ‘f I don’t make it, you gotta tell m’ sister I was brave, ‘n…’n a hero. Promise?”

“I promise. But Cougar’s gonna patch you up and we’re going to get you home. You can tell her yourself.”

And then the lights flicker and turn off and they’re pitched into darkness. Clay stands. 

“What the hell was that?” he calls. 

The others appear a second later. Pooch pushes a bottle of vodka into Clay’s hands and opens the door, stepping outside. 

“It’s not just us,” he says, turning to the little team. “Power’s out as far as I can see. It’s a blackout.”

Roque puts Cougar’s bag down and clasps his hands behind his head. “Son of a bitch…”

Whatever Cougar was about to do, it’s about to get ten times harder. Clay steps to his side and lowers his voice. 

“Should I try and get an evac out here?”

Cougar shakes his head. “It would take too long. I can do it.”

“I got infrared goggles in my bag,” Roque says. 

“Get them,” Cougar responds, and then he’s sitting on the floor next to Jensen, rifling through his bag.

“You, uh. Ever stitched someone up in the dark?” Jensen asks.

Cougar doesn’t look up, still searching for something. “Si.”

“Liar.”

“Don’t speak,” Cougar says, pulling out a small box that Clay recognizes as his suture kit. “You need rest.” He reaches for the vodka and opens it. “This will hurt.” And then he pours. 

Jensen lets out a scream before his eyes roll back and he goes still. 

“Is he okay?” Pooch says. 

“It’s the pain,” Cougar says. 

Roque walks back in with the goggles, holding onto them while Cougar tries to thread his needle in the dark. He looks down at the unconscious techie.

“Probably for the best.”

Clay looks over at him. “If he wakes up while Cougar’s working, you’re gonna have to help me hold him.”

Roque crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know why they sent him out here with us. Oh, geez.” He turns away from Jensen as Cougar puts the needle into his skin. “Pooch, you’re gonna need to hold him, I can’t watch this.”

Clay steps toward Roque, lowering his voice so the others can’t hear. “I need you to track down his sister, just in case. We owe him that much.”

Roque nods. “You got it. But he’s gonna get through this. Cougar’s good at this shit, even if the conditions are...well. This.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Clay says, even though he’s not.

The only thing he is sure of is that if he gets through this, Jensen is definitely off the team. 

xxx 

[hazzastylesfanfics]

Part 2/?

still testing the waters with this but i think it’s starting to shape into something i like?

idk

i’ll do longer parts if people are interested!

lemme know :-)

I curse whoever decided that glass doors were a good idea and weigh my options. I could fully ignore him. It’s not like I’d made eye contact with him. Twice. I could also act like an actual adult and go to the door. Opening 10 minutes early wouldn’t be the end of the world.

I finally move my body cemented in place towards the door. He flashes that damned smile at me causing me to trip and drop my keys. Even on my best days I can barely hold my shit together. I give him a little wave, place the keys into the lock, turn, and crack the door.

“We’re not open yet,” I blurt out. Apparently my lips decided to not consult my brain before speaking. Of course he knows we’re not open, Grey. The front door is literally locked. Idiot.

The corner of his mouth rises into a smirk. “I was passing by and wanted to stop in for another small coffee.”

“At 5:45 in the morning?” He can’t be serious. I’m not falling for the “just passing by” trick.

“Yeah, I try to go on a run every morning.”

I realize how stupid I look then, shielding myself with the door and a blank expression on my face. So he’s not stalking me. Plenty of people run through the Pearl in the mornings, apparently he is one of them. I really need to get my head straight.

“Right. Sorry, uh come on in.” I pull the door open wide enough for him to walk by me. True to his word, he’s in running gear. I notice his arms are glistening slightly. God, look at those arms. A ship inked onto his left bicep catches my eye. Does this guy have a nautical thing going or something?

He slides by just close enough for me to get a smell of his aftershave. He smells incredible. This is a joke. Not only does this guy look unfairly enticing after a run, but he even smells good. I shake my head in an attempt to chase away the dirty thoughts running through it.

“Er, I haven’t brewed drip yet so it’ll be a minute or so. Is that okay?” I hurry behind the counter as he stops at the register.

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“Cool, cool,” I mumble.

I feel his eyes burning into my back as I grind the espresso beans and toss them into a filter. I press brew above the empty container and watch a steady stream of coffee pour into the open top.

“What’s your name?” He asks conversationally. I turn to face him. He’s casually leaning on the front counter, fidgeting with the merchandise sitting on it.

“It’s Grey.”

With amusement in his eyes, he meets mine. “Like the color?”

If I had a dollar for every person who’s asked me that over the years I would have enough to legally declare grey was no longer a color.

“Yeah, I guess.” I scrunch up my nose for a moment. “It’s more like my parents partied too much and smoked a lot of weed and thought Grey was a perfectly suitable name for a human being.”

That earns me a laugh from him. “I like it. Very moody.” He winks.

“Thanks.” I look down at my twiddling thumbs. “Uh, what’s yours?”

“Harry,” he says.

“Like what’s on your head?” The words escape before I can stop them. I can feel my ears redden at my idiotic joke. He chuckles softly.

“Something like that. It’s fairly boring if you ask me.”

“No booze and drugs involved?” We both laugh. The beep of the brewer behind me indicates it’s finished. “You said a small, right?”

“Whatever you’d like to give me,” he says coyly.

I give my head a little shake. I fill a 12-ounce cup to the top, remembering he likes no room, and snap the lid on. I spin around and nearly drop his coffee in the process. He’s leaning as far forward as he can on the counter, arms extended in front of him with his hands clasped. My eyes trail along the curves of his arms for a second, fantasizing about them pinning me down to this very counter and-

“So what are you doing when you get off?”

“Get off?” He matches my puzzled expression. “Oh! You mean work.” I mentally kick myself. Get your head out of the damn gutter, Grey. “I’ll probably just go home and take a nap. That’s usually what I do on the days I open.”

“Not much of a morning person?” He takes a sip of his coffee. I can’t help but watch his lips wrap around the lid. My thoughts wander to his lips to what else he could wrap them around.

“I despise mornings,” I agree. “Days shouldn’t start before 10 a.m. if you ask me.”

“Sounds like you’re in the right line of work then.” He smiles. How am I just noticing the deep dimples that indent his face when does? They paint the perfect illusion of youth.

“I’m good at it.” I shrug. “It’s an easy job anyway. Tips are good.”

“Speaking of, how much do I owe you?” He reaches for his wallet.

“It’s on the house.” I smile.

“If it’s because I came before you opened then I can wait until the register is ready or whatever,” he reasons.

“No, no it really is fine.” I glance at the clock on the iPad. “We’re open now anyway.”

“I insist.”

“It’s a dollar seventy-five; I think we’ll be alright.”

“Let me pay you back tonight then?” He peaks over the top of his coffee as he takes another sip, looking hopeful. “Drinks?”

“Uh-” I bite my lip. Did this guy really walk in here with the intention of asking me out or is fate throwing me a sympathy bone? “I can probably do that, yeah. What time?”

His expression relaxes. “Whenever works for you. I can pick you up at your place or you can swing by mine? Do you live around here?”

“My apartment isn’t far from here. There are some bars within walking distance of it if you just wanted to meet me at mine?”

“Sure, just send me the address.” He pulls his phone out and hands it to me across the counter. I take it and type my phone number in, adding it to his contacts. Grey, (like the color), I add.

“Here you are.” I hold his phone out to him. Our hands brush momentarily and every nerve in my body ignites. They’re soft. His hands are really soft. “You better not ghost me.” I laugh.

His eyebrows shoot up and a look of exaggerated shock takes over his features. “I would never.” He laughs along with me. “Do I look like the type of lad to do that?”

The door opens and two of my morning regulars walk in before I can answer. He glances over his shoulder and then back to me.

“Looks like that’s my cue.” I smile apologetically.

“See you tonight.” His eyes twinkle like two stars I could get lost in.

As he’s leaving I notice a five-dollar bill in the tip jar.

“I look terrible in absolutely everything, oh my god!! Why do I even own half of this shit!” I fall facedown on my bed next to Lana.

“Shut up, babe you’ve looked hot in everything you’ve put on,” she assures.

“You’re a fucking liar and you know it.” I sigh. “It’s easy for you to say considering you look good in everything you wear.”

“Not true.” She stands and walks to my wardrobe. “What about this?” Lana pulls out a midi, light grey silk dress.

I sit up. “Don’t you think a slip dress is a bit...much?” I scrunch my nose up. “I don’t even know if this is a date.”

The texts Harry and I exchanged throughout the day were short and simple. He never explicitly said the word “date” nor did he really flirt much. It made me feel anxious.

“You said yourself you didn’t want this to be a date,” she responds.

“That’s not what I meant. I just- You know how it is.”

She sighs. “Sometimes Grey? I really don’t. C’mon, this gorgeous guy is clearly into you and you’re gonna play these stupid games with him? He could actually be a decent guy, ya know. Can we also talk about the fact that he’s fucking British? How often do you find that in Portland?”

“Not interested.” I take the dress from her hand and hold it up to my body, observing it in the mirror on my wardrobe door. It really is a pretty dress. I’ve only worn it a handful of times but it’s done wonders for me every time I have. I could toss a white tee over it and knot it to tone it down a bit. Sandals would also help. I undress and let the silk fall over my body. I forgot how it hugged what little curves I have just enough to hint at them.

Lana’s eyes narrowed in approval. “That. You have to wear that. Remind me why I’ve never borrowed it again?”

“Because you were gifted with an ass and I wasn’t?” Envy consumes me. Lana had this perfectly curvy body that genetics would never allow me to have. She constantly switches between hating it and loving it.

“Oh right, that.” She frowns. “So you’re really not gonna give this Harry guy a chance?”

I pull a white tee out from my drawer and pull it over my head. After fussing with the knot for a minute, I settle on one I like. “What do I even do with my hair?” I ignore her question and walk down the hall toward my bathroom.

She follows and perches on the edge of the bathtub. My tiny bathroom barely fits us comfortably. “Grey, seriously. Maybe it’s time to open yourself up again.”

I pause with my hands holding up my hair in a simple, low messy bun. I pull a few strands of my bangs out to frame my face. Not liking what I see, I drop it in frustration and run my fingers through my loose brown curls. Maybe I could just wear it naturally. Except I hadn’t washed it from my shift this morning and it smelled of coffee. I sighed. Naps are great until I sleep the day away. Back to the bun it is.

“I like the bun,” Lana comments.

“Is my makeup too like-”

“Come fuck me makeup?” She finishes for me.

I laugh lightly. “Not exactly how I would have put it but, sure.”

“You look hot, babe. If I was Harry I would most definitely have that dress on the floor by the end of the night.”

I bite my tongue through my teeth and smile. “That’s the goal.”

We walk back to my room so I can find shoes and my purse. I check my phone for the time and see I’ve missed a call and two texts from Harry.

Sorry if you’re not ready. I’m a bit early.

Then, 10 minutes later.

Should I come up or wait for you down here?

“Oh shit, he’s early.” I dash around my room looking for my ID and grab a bundle of cash from the vase I keep my tips in. Lana is laying on my bed absentmindedly petting Charlie. She’s curled up on my pillow - her favorite place. “You can stick around as long as you want but I can’t guarantee what will be happening in here later.” I smile devilishly.

“Thanks for that, Grey,” she replies sarcastically. “I’ll head out after you two are gone. Sure you don’t want me to tag along as backup?”

“Yeah and have you flirt with him the entire night? I’ll pass.” I fluff my hair once more in the mirror and make sure my lipstick is in place.

“I’m just saying, I would give the boy a chance so maybe you should too.”

“Right, uh-huh.” I’m already halfway to the front door.

“Be safe!” I hear as the door clicks shut behind me.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Two Plus Two (baon)

Summary:  Stretch is pretty good at math, but he never wanted to be on this side of the equation 

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Hospitals

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The past 48 hours had been something of a learning experience for Stretch, and he had to say, while he usually loved learning new things, trying experiments, running with theories, to be perfectly fucking frank, this was an education he could’ve done without.

To start with, he’d learned that even if Asgore was a murdering dick, Stretch was enough of a soft touch that he didn’t like to see anyone hurting, and he could, in fact, find it within himself to offer sympathy to the devil.

He’d learned that he couldn’t, actually, sleep anywhere and at any time like his bro always said.

He’d learned that Red did have a few scraps of kindness that he kept around for bad times, meagerly parceling them out if they were desperately required, and that it would probably be best to never bring that fact up to him for any idle chitchat, but Stretch was grateful for them, anyway.

And most importantly, he’d learned he did not like being on the opposite side of the hospital equation, at all, not one fucking bit.

Stretch scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly, shifting yet again in the torture device this place called a chair. It was the curse of the tall, to suffer furniture and rooms that didn’t fit by any stretch (heh) of the imagination. Too narrow, too short, the cushions not padded quite enough. There just wasn’t enough chair in this chair for him, he needed to strap two of ‘em together and then maybe his Frankenchair would be enough, if it didn’t start giving him any daddy issues.

Or maybe it wouldn’t matter if they’d wheeled in the best model from Lazyboy heaven for him, because where he really wanted to be was in the bed, both hands firmly on its current occupant.

Said occupant was sleeping again and that at least was something to be grateful for. Stretch’d been in the bed earlier, curled up next to Edge and he couldn’t say it’d been peaceful, but he’d been sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, dreamless and deep.

Until a strange sound woke him up sometime before the asscrack of dawn. It took him a minute to realize what woke him, sitting there bewildered in the dark and trying to figure out why their bedroom looked odd. Took hearing that little whine again, like nothing he’d heard before, and for a second, his sleep-foggy mind froze, seizing on the idea that it was that kitten. The kitten he’d rescued that was surely a cat by now and here it was, crying for him, because it was his now, wasn’t it, his responsibility, his problem, and it lived in Red’s house, but he’d made the choice to save the bedraggled little thing and now it was here and if he looked, it would be sitting by the bed, smiling up at him with needle-sharp teeth and the madness in its eyes promising a reward, he--

Then Edge whimpered again in his sleep and Stretch woke up all the way. He shoved that stupidly panicked thought away, fuck, like he needed any more nightmare fuel, and sat up to check on his husband.

Whatever medication they’d given him on the plane must’ve loosening up its grasp enough to let the pain leak through, but not enough for him to actually wake up. Crimson gathered at the corners of his sockets but didn’t fall, instead settling into rusty stains beneath them.

Yeah, a glance was more than enough of that shit. He’d gone out and found a nurse in record time, gotten him dosed up again. Stretch’s nightmares were gonna have to step up their game because seeing Edge’s face twisted in terrific pain was a legitimately horrifying sight. Even during the worst of his migraines, Edge didn’t let him see him that way.

Edge had settled back to sleep and Stretch was afraid to lay next to him again. He’d gotten a glimpse of all the hurts that were currently hiding beneath that blanket and he didn’t want to chance accidently giving any of them a nudge. Anyway, Edge was out cold, it wasn’t like he would know to miss him. That twisting pain stealing away into peaceful rest as the medication did its work.

Since then, he’d been mostly alone, the occasional nurse stopping in, and Sans briefly showed up to let him know Papyrus was awake and doing okay. No one else had anything past bumps and bruises, and they’d all gone down to the Embassy to deal with all the inevitable fallout. Which only made Stretch all the gladder that any work he did was unofficial. Yeah, he didn’t get to take the road trips, but that also meant he didn’t have to work cleanup duty and he called that a fair trade.

But that left him here in this stupid chair, chewing on his thumb while he watched Edge sleeping. If he really focused, he could see the rise and fall of his breathing, and he was at a count of 649. 650. 651.

Made him wonder what Edge counted all the times he’d been in the hospital, swallowing down a mouthful of bittersweet guilt to think of it. Counting was better than looking at his bruised and battered skull, better than staring at the bulky rise of the blanket that he knew was covering Edge’s wrapped and splinted leg, that must’ve been a mess if it was still like that after healing, fuck, how bad had it been, how close had he come to--

A faint knock on the door interrupted that. Stretch looked up as it swung open to see Jeff peering cautiously inside. He smiled when he saw Stretch was awake, giving the clear plastic cup he was holding a little waggle. The contents were violently green, topped with a whipped cream swirl and a praline sprinkle, and the top of the straw still protectively covered with a piece of wrapper.

Okay, yeah, please and thank you, Stretch would know a special order from the Beanery anywhere, and was pretty sure he could hear a chorus of angels coming up from the rear, la la la-ing him a miracle.

He held out both hands in the universal gesture for ‘gimmie’ and Jeff’s grin widened. He slipped through the door, padding over quietly and handed it over. Sweet matcha and cream exploded over his tongue at the first sip and Stretch closed his sockets, basking in its sweet, sweet caffeinated embrace.

Absently, he signed ‘thank you’, only realizing what he’d done when Jeff gave him a blank look.

Edge hadn’t stirred and probably wasn’t going to be hearing much through the painkiller’s embrace, but Stretch didn’t want to take the chance. He gestured towards the door and both of them went out into the hallway.

“sorry, i forgot you don’t speak hands,” Stretch said, sheepishly. He took another drink, the straw crackling almost overshadowing his happy moan. “you are a saint.”

“Nah, I was stopping in for some caffeine myself, anyway, I figured you needed something to keep you going.” Jeff’s grin faded and he jerked his head towards the door. “How is he?”

“he’ll be okay,” Stretch said firmly. The docs hadn’t given him a full rundown yet and probably wouldn’t until the last of the healing magic faded from Edge’s system. Until it did, they really couldn’t make an accurate assessment and choose a course of treatment. Mixing homebrew with hospital magic could be tricky, Stretch knew that from his own past experiments, plus it wasn’t always better to force bones to knit and bruises to fade. Sometimes, it was less taxing to let things heal the old-fashioned way. Stretch knew all that, he’d seen experiments, hell, he’d been part of a few.

Knowing that didn’t make the waiting easier.

“how are things downtown?” Stretch asked and from the shadow that fell over Jeff’s face, it wasn’t going so great.

Fuck.

“I’m your friend, right?” Jeff said, slowly.

“yeah.” Stretch said, simply. He didn’t even have a joke for that, no pun or insinuation.

“Then can you trust me when I say don’t worry about that? It’s getting handled, that’s all that matters. You go ahead and keep your concerns saved up for him, okay?”

Stretch frowned, playing with his straw. “trying to step it up with the protectiveness while the mama bear is out of commission?”

Jeff shook his head. “No. I’m trying to keep my friend, who had a pretty shitty weekend and could probably use a decent nap, from worrying about things that he can’t do anything about.”

“fair,” Stretch smiled and if it felt a little wobbly, eh, Andy wouldn’t hold it against him. “thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I need to get back, but I have my phone. If you two need anything, anything at all--”

“You’ll be the first name in the text. Promise.” A fistbump was never good enough when a hug would do, and Stretch yanked Jeff in for one, letting his chin dig into the top of Jeff’s head through the cushion of his hair, rubbing in a sort of modified noogie. Jeff laughed a little and gave Stretch a shove, heading back towards the elevators.

Stretch watched him go before he slipped back into the room and carefully closed the door. Edge must’ve gotten a little restless while he was gone, the blanket was rumpled and half falling off the side of the bed, trailing all the way down to the floor. It left him in only a thin hospital gown, not exactly cozy.

He set his drink on the side table and reached out to pull it back up, not wanting Edge to get cold.

He never got the chance.

Stretch never even saw Edge move, so fucking fast, the pain registering before anything. The world blurred as Stretch was suddenly shoved facedown on the mattress, his arm twisted painfully up behind his back by an iron grip around his wrist, tight enough that it threatened to crack bone.

Stretch cried out, torn between shock and fear, whimpering as his wrist was roughly forced up between his shoulder blades, ���stop! edge, it’s me, please!”

That grip only tightened, his wrist bones shrieking in pain. Fuck, fuck, he’d shortcut if he had to, but that sure as fuck wouldn’t do Edge much good, getting dragged through the void wasn’t great for wounded souls or bones, even if it didn’t set him up for ten minutes of puking.

Suddenly, he was released, and Stretch sagged down in relief, clumsily pulling his wrenched arm back around. His wrist was throbbing, but Stretch wasn’t worried about that right now. He scrambled off the bed, turning to see Edge blinking at him in foggy confusion, breathing too fast and hard. The blankets were everywhere, falling from the bed in a mess and his IV line was tangled around one arm and the bed railing. At least he hadn’t managed to yank it out. Without the blankets, all his bruises and dings were on display, and it made Stretch’s soul throb in sympathetic pain, but not enough for him to get any closer.

“edge?” Stretch kept a wary distance back, nope, fool me once.

That fogginess cleared abruptly, crimson eye lights going narrow and sharp and instead, dawning horror took over as the emotion of the morning, mixed in with a healthy dollop of grief.

Ah, damn it, this was a ride they didn’t need to take. Whee, it was just a rollercoaster in here today, wasn’t it. Or right now maybe more like the bumper cars.

“Did I hurt you?” Edge demanded. He started to reach out, faltered, and this time Stretch was willing to take his chances. He wouldn’t allow Edge to ever think he was afraid of him, not for anything in this world or any other.

“no, no, i’m fine, i’m perfectly fine,” Stretch tried, but that was the poster child for pointless. Edge was already grabbing his arm again, as gentle now as he’d been rough before, shoving up his sleeve to inspect the damages. The prickling sensation of a Check washed over him and Stretch only sighed, held still as Edge scanned him. “c’mon, babe, you didn’t hurt me, only a little bump on the fender. i mean, any crash you can walk away from, right?” If anything, Edge only looked more upset, and here he was, sitting there with bruises up to his brow bones, looking like hell and probably feeling worse, and he was worried about Stretch. Yeah, that was his mama bear. He reached out, cupped Edge’s face with his free hand. ”seriously, babe, i’m fine.”

Edge only looked Stretch over searchingly, his touch gentle as he stroked Stretch’s wrist where bruises were already rising, dark and mottled, and for once could he get a favor and not have Edge realize they were in the shape of his fingers?

Couldn’t say if any local genies granted that wish, but Edge did sink back against the pillows reluctantly, scrubbing at his face with a trembling hand.

Cautiously, Stretch reached out to pluck his IV line from where it was caught on the bed rail. It wasn’t easy with only one available hand, but Edge didn’t seem inclined to let go and Stretch wasn’t about to make him. The blankets were harder, pulling them back up on the bed and then tucking them around Edge before Stretch took a careful seat on top of them. He was expecting a lecture on getting too close when Edge was sleeping, well-deserved, really, he knew better than that, and it was pretty damn lucky that Edge’s control was what it was. Or maybe apologies, Edge miserably asking forgiveness for something that never fucking needed it. It wasn’t his fault he’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks in Murder World and that shit left its mark. He wasn’t hurt past a little bruise and a wake-up call, there wasn’t a damn thing to apologize for.

But Edge only held his hand, circled his aching wrist with soothingly warm fingers. He didn’t say anything for a long time, sitting there with his eye lights lowered, and when he did speak, it was about the last thing Stretch expected to hear.

“Happy anniversary,” Edge mumbled.

Stretch gawked at him, mouth dropping open and Edge glanced up, meeting his gaze. The hopefulness in those deep crimson eye lights made Stretch burst out laughing, gulping down the sob that tried to join it. “seriously? that’s what you’re going with?”

Edge only shrugged, glancing back down. “Didn’t want you to think I forgot.”

In the midst of everything, the fact that today was their anniversary hadn’t even crossed Stretch’s mind, so he didn’t have much of a leg to hop on. “babe, i knew you didn’t.”

“Did you?” Those two words were filled with so much uncertainty and maybe Edge was awake, but surely the meds were still affecting him, letting bits and pieces of emotion fall out through the cracks that Edge would usually never show, not even to him.

“yeah. i did,” Stretch said quietly. “i knew. i’m sorry i overreacted.”

Lightly, Edge pressed his fingers to Stretch’s mouth. His hands were still bare, his touch unbearably cautious and Stretch made a mental note to get him a pair of gloves. “Don’t. Don’t apologize.”

Stretch kissed those fingers, wished he could push all the depth of his love through it. “listen. my therapist is all about talking things over, but in this case? i’m thinking maybe we could pack it up and lose it in a mental dumpster. let it go?”

“Love--”

“i don’t want to argue with you,” Stretch said simply. “i got mad and i got over it before i ever heard you were hurt, and now? i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Edge studied him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. He looked ruefully around the tidy hospital room with its generic landscape paintings and neutral colors. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for our anniversary celebration.”

“what, you mean you weren’t going to go for the ebott general dinner and drug package?” Stretch teased, then curiously, “what were you thinking?”

Because damn if his baby didn’t shine when he made plans.

Edge smiled faintly. “If I tell you now, it won’t be a surprise when I finally do it.”

Stretch groaned and flopped back on the mattress, careful to avoid Edge’s bandaged leg. “that’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Edge told him. He stiffened suddenly, eye lights flashing as he demanded, “Who else was hurt, I saw Toriel with Papyrus, was he—”

“woah, hang on,” Stretch sat back up quickly enough that he almost fell off the side. Edge grabbing hold of him to steady him before he got an in-depth view of the floor. “papyrus is all right. he was kinda banged up, but he woke up about an hour ago. none of our people were badly hurt, bruises and bumps, that’s it. right now, you’re the only one who’s on the rough side.”

“And the Humans?”

Uh. That threw him for a loopty loop. “i don’t know, no one has told me anything about any humans, babe.”

Edge groaned, sagging back against the pillows. “There were Humans there greeting us, they were too far away for me to shield them, my focus was on Toriel and Frisk.”

Yeah, okay, no wonder Jeff told him to worry about it later.

That had all the makings of a problem and a half, and Stretch didn’t need three guesses over who was going to end up dealing with it. But that would have to wait; the Embassy problem solver was starting to twist a little, shifting his weight in a futile effort to find a comfortable spot. His eye lights were narrowing, his mouth tightening, and yeah, okay, Stretch’s doctorate wasn’t in medicine, but Edge was obviously starting to really feel his aches and pains and was trying to hide it.

Stretch started to climb to his feet. “i’m thinking it’s time to let the nurse know you’re awake.”

Instantly, Edge’s grip around his wrist tightened, but with such care, not pressing even a bit on the fresh bruises. “Not yet.”

“yeah, yet.” And when he still didn’t let go, Stretch went for the big guns; he was just about done fucking around for the day and it was barely ten am. “babe, it hurts me to see you hurting.”

Always go with the strongest attack first, that was the rule. Edge faltered visibly, and Stretch didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked down to his wrist, yeah, looked like Edge wasn’t ready to forgive himself for that yet, may as well use it.

“I hate the medication,” Edge complained, “I can’t think straight with it.”

“i noticed,” Edge winced, but Stretch wasn’t thinking about their wrestling match. He only smirked and asked, “gonna rave about how pretty i am again?”

That derailed the guilt train but good. Edge blinked at him and said blankly, “i what now?”

“remind me to get a copy of the video,” Stretch said, then at the thunderously indignant expression he got, he added hurriedly, “look, i get it. all your control issues are piling up at the end of the ramp. but you can either let me call the nurse to bring in the magic feel-better pills or i’ll get them myself, and if you think i won’t sit on you and plug your nasal cavity until you open your mouth, you need to bet on a better pony.”

He gave Edge a good moment to chew on that, and he did, jaw working hard, teeth grinding. Then suddenly, a corner of Edge’s mouth quirked up. “Are you promising to sit in my lap?”

Stretch didn’t think Edge’s flirty little smirk had ever looked better, even if he was being a shit, and he scoffed, “honey, you are getting yourself into a debt you can’t repay. better quit while you’re ahead.” He reached out and ran a thumb lightly over Edge’s mouth, careful of the sharp line of teeth. “i’ll give you a head start later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Edge echoed, then he heaved a put-upon sigh. “All right, I’ll take the damn medicine. “If,” he stressed, “you lay down with me and let me hold you.”

“you strike a tough bargain, babe.”

Soon enough, Edge was grudgingly swallowing down the little cup of pills the nice nurse brought, even sticking out his tongue which was supposed to prove he'd swallowed them, but Stretch suspected was his baby taking advantage of a moment.

Then it was the two of them again, alone in the room with the curtains drawn against the morning light. Stretch settled against Edge, trying to be careful, but it was pretty damn hard when his husband wasn’t. Edge only hauled him in tight, tucking him against his side and the moment he had Stretch arranged to his liking, he settled back with a sigh, tension leaking away.

That was fine by Stretch. He only snuggled in, burrowed in the combined warmth of his honey and the blanket layers. Sleepy fingertips were stroking his skull, petting softly, and that was lovely, but odd, too, because now Stretch knew the difference between two sets of sharpened fingertips doing the same gesture; Red’s cracked phalanges grazing along curved bone, wavering on the border of almost-pain and Edge’s infinitely more cautious touches, feathering along his coronal sutures.

Not a comparison he ever thought he’d be able to make and not one he was about to share with either brother. The touch dwindled to nothing, his hand falling lax as Edge drifted off and so long as Stretch stayed here next to Edge while he slept, his husband would know it was him, and he wouldn’t get any urges to toss him into a wall or the void or anything.

That was fine. This was right where he’d wanted to be in the first place.

Stretch sighed, shifting to rest his hand on Edge’s ribcage, the better to feel him breathing, each slow, even breath that matched the pulse of his soul.

“happy anniversary,” Stretch whispered, and started counting.

-finis-

[thefactsofthematter]

roller derby sprace au

OKAY so this is entirely inspired by @orolly and this amazing art, but i suddenly had many feelings about a roller derby au?? just look at the pic you’ll understand

so like,,, i just went ahead and wrote it.

1.4k; modern sprace; mostly fluff but kinda hurt/comfort; tw for lots of cursing and one (1) broken bone

((if the formatting looks weird i’m sorry mobile is being kinda glitchy and spacing things out oddly!))

-

"We still on for date night after this?"

Race laughs when instead of saying anything, Spot just pushes his mouthguard in and shoots him a thumbs-up. They're skating around the track for a warmup, trying to be inconspicuous, as both their teams get annoyed when they see a member fraternizing with the enemy.

Race thinks that's a load of shit— Spot is only his enemy once the match has started.

"Netflix and chill, my place," Spot finally replies, the plastic over his teeth giving him a bit of a lisp. "As long as I don't take you out too hard on the track."

The mischievous glint in Spot's eyes prompts Race to shoot him the middle finger, carefully out of the view of any coaches or referees.

"Suck my dick, Brooklyn."

Spot sticks his tongue out.

"Maybe later." He laughs loudly when Race shoves him, almost making his skate-clad feet fly out from under him. "Eat shit, Manhattan."

Race rolls his eyes and slides in his own mouthguard, just as they hear an angry whistle from behind them.

"Watch the trash-talking!" calls Davey, the head referee. "I can't give you a penalty since the game hasn't started, but this is your warning, Spot. Cursing in general is a yes; cursing at people is a no. Watch it."

Spot's jaw drops affrontedly as Race cracks up beside him.

"He started it!" he whines, pointing to Race, who simply pushes off and skates away to join his own teammates, skating backwards momentarily to blow him a kiss. Spot mimes catching it, and then throwing it on the ground. "That's it, you're on, Higgins! See if I'm ever nice to you again!"

Before Race can respond, they're interrupted by the loud whistle that indicates the start of a round, so everyone heads to their places to get going. For the next hour, Spot is most definitely not Race's boyfriend— he's just another body to pass on the way to winning.

-

"Wall up, Manhattan! What's going on!? Smalls, get up behind Finch! Block Spot! Let's go!"

Race beams with pride when Smalls, his little prodigy, hip checks Spot hard enough to knock him over. The best thing about a coed league is that there's actually some players shorter than Spot, so they can take him out from below, where he's least expecting to be hit.

Race is coming up behind the pack of players with considerable speed, and the fact that Spot is still struggling to get up means Race might be able to sneak through and gain a lap on him. The rounds that they're both playing as jammers— the ones who have to race around the track and pass the other players, the blockers, to gain points— are typically the most interesting ones, if only for how competitive the two of them get.

"On your right, Red!" calls Race as he approaches, and Albert pulls a quick 180 to stop short, making the two Brooklyn girls that had been skating right behind him crash into him, lose their balance, and clear up a space for Race to skate past. "Thanks bud!"

After powering past that mess, Race only has one more Brooklyn player to pass in order to make it out of the pack and onto a breakaway. He skates up behind him, and all things considered, it shouldn't be too hard to get around him. He'll just have to shoulder-check him, skirt around him, and then—

Shit. Their feet have somehow gotten tangled, and Race has totally lost his balance. He shoots his hands out in front of him to try and break the fall, but it proves pretty much useless with how quickly he finds himself hitting the ground.

God damn it.

-

Spot is entirely aware that in a full-contact sport, injuries are bound to happen. He's been playing for a few years and he's seen plenty of people get hurt.

However, when it's Race getting hurt, Spot can't help but panic.

His stomach sinks as he watches his boyfriend's skates fly out from under him, sending him catapulting down to the track, where he faceplants so unceremoniously that it's almost comical.

Everyone laughs at first, but it fades out when Race doesn't immediately bounce back up. He just... lays there, unmoving, facedown on the track.

Spot's heart is pounding in his ears as Davey's whistle blares and he and Jack, Manhattan's head coach, come jogging out to the track. The rest of the players head back to the benches to get out of the way, but Spot lingers nervously nearby.

"Hey Racer," says Jack, gently tapping Race's shoulder. This finally gets Race to move— he groans quietly in pain and rolls onto his back with a bit of help from Jack. "Are you alright, buddy?"

Race's nose is bleeding, dripping down his chin, but he ignores it, yanking his mouthguard out and tossing it to the floor beside him.

"That fuckin' hurt," he grunts, still lying flat on the ground. "I think I'm fine, but, like... Jesus."

Spot can't see Jack roll his eyes from here, but judging by the way Race's middle finger shoots up, he's sure that's what happened.

"I have to do a concussion test," sighs Jack, "just to be safe. I'm gonna ask you some questions and you'll have to listen carefully and—"

"Yeah, hang on," snaps Race, cutting Jack off. "My head feels fine, but look at my foot first, please. I swear to god I felt something snap or tear or… whatever. It hurts really fucking bad.”

Spot feels entirely useless, just standing there watching, so he skates over and slides to his knees next to his boyfriend. He quietly offers a hand for Race to squeeze— which is immediately taken as Race winces in pain while Jack gently handles his right foot to try and untie his skate.

“Shit,” says Davey, while leaning over Jack’s shoulder as they remove Race’s skate and sock. “That’s really swelling and it’s already bruising. Definitely sprained, maybe even broken. You need to go to the hospital, man.”

-

Several hours in the ER later, date night has turned into ice-Race’s-broken-ankle-and-feed-him-candy-to-stop-him-from-whining night.

“We would’ve won,” grumbles Race, from where he’s laying with his head in Spot’s lap. “If it weren’t for Hotshot being a goddamn tank, we totally would’ve crushed you guys. Tell him to go fuck himself next time you see him, on behalf of me.”

Spot rolls his eyes and feeds Race another few Sour Patch Kids to shut him up.

“We’ll just have to rematch once you’re up and running again,” he taunts, punctuating it by tapping Race on the nose. “In the meantime, I guess you’ll have to be my cheerleader. You’re an honorary Brooklyn Bad Boy now.”

Race slaps Spot’s hand away from his face with an annoyed whine.

“A, that’s still the stupidest fucking team name I’ve ever heard. B, not happening, asshole. I’m loyal to Manhattan and I don’t look good in red. I could never be Brooklyn.”

Spot raises an eyebrow as he looks around his apartment, littered with their shared belongings.

“You kind of are, you practically live here anyways! Say— now that you’re gonna need help getting around, why don’t you just move in?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Spot realizes just how big that question is. He’s really in love enough with Race to live with him. That’s, like, one step short of proposing. Holy shit.

Race’s face breaks into a surprised grin as he realizes that Spot was being serious.

“For real?” he asks, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “You’re serious? Like, my lease is almost up and I was meaning to talk to you, since I don’t wanna renew it… You actually want me to live here?”

Instead of responding with words, Spot pulls him in for a kiss. He smiles into it, thumbing gently along Race’s jawline.

“If you won’t join my derby team, I’ll settle for letting you join my apartment. I’m gonna make you Brooklyn somehow— it’s the best city in the world, y’know.”

Race rolls his eyes, but dutifully kisses Spot’s cheek.

“And you’re the biggest dork in the world. But, yes, I’d love to move in with you, loser. I love you so much.”

Spot grins, not sure just how he got so lucky.

“I love you too, asshole. More than anything.”

-

tag list: @landlessbud @eponinemylove @i-got-personality @alovelymoonbeam @penzyroamin @graceful-popcorn @bencookisagod @auspicioustarantula @neverplannedonsomeonelikeyou @orollyitsracetrackhiggins @backgroundnewsies @magimerlyn @myheartissetinmotion @papesdontsellthemselves @supremebesson @justasadcryptid @marvels-ninja @aw-jus-let-em-try @big-potato-asshole @stop-the-presses @fameworks-quicker @wilde-guess @never-fear-brooklyns-here @r-a-c-e-t-r-a-c-k @fandom-fangirl07 @miiiicah @theresagoodchanceicouldfly @dying-poet

[flamboyantly-incompetent]

Neuron Ch.9

Bucky x Named (Mutant) Reader

Warnings: fluff, fluff, dealing with trauma, etc.

Masterlist

Word count: 2,929

Note: THIS IS A REVISED CHAPTER.  I didn’t really like the first iteration as much as I think I should for a chapter that basically sets the tone for the focus characters and relationship.  And it’s my story, so I figured I could do what I wanted with it.

All in all, I really like this one better - I think it adheres more to the Bucky that I’m trying to write, and... it’s just better.  

If you read the first one, and remember it at all feel free to let me know if you have any thoughts (I mean, feel free anyway) on the characterization.  

The gifs still aren’t mine.

If you’ve ever made a gif, I appreciate you.

Bucky stood in the hallway outside your apartment, bouncing on his feet, mentally reciting his battle plan.  Apologize, flash drive, retreat.  Apologize, flash drive, retreat.  Okay.  Probably good to knock now.

He knocked on your door and took a deep breath; he heard you sigh, and wander over.  He also heard you mutter, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

This was going well.

“I heard that,” he mumbled, trying to put his heart back where it was supposed to be.  Then you opened the door.

Standing in the doorway, you wore your standard - large tee-shirt and shorts, but you were still so pretty.  Pretty and tired.  Why had he come here again?  You blinked at him for a moment; every word he had ever learned escaped him.

When you finally broke the silence, your voice was hesitant, “Sorry.  I just... I wasn’t expecting to see you.  Is everything okay?”  You poked your head out into the hallway, looking for Steve, Natasha maybe.

Bucky’s hand found his hair on its own, running through the tangled locks absentmindedly.  “Yeah, yeah.  Everything’s fine, just,” he trailed off, plunging his hand into a back pocket for the drive, “Steve forgot to give this back to you.”

“Thanks, that’s kinda important,” you said, taking the flash drive from his hand.  The tone of your voice settled his nerves, but it didn’t escape him that you were careful not to brush his fingers with your own.  Not that he could blame you.

“We figured.  Steve was gonna mail it, but I wanted to come down myself,” he caught the ghost of a glimmer of hope in your eye and continued quickly, “just to be safe.  I’m just a delivery boy today.”

That look was gone quick as it came, and you looked tired again.  Damn near broke his heart.  This was not going as planned.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, “I should’ve asked Mr. Stark before I left.  That’s a long trip for a USB.”

Definitely not going to plan.  He sighed, throwing the plan out the window.  “Shoot, doll, that’s not what I meant.  I just...”  Finally, you met his gaze again with a look that said me too.

Nodding, you opened the door wider.  “Let me make you some tea?”

Bucky had followed you into your apartment, at once watching the sway in your shoulders as you watched and covering all his exits - a window and fire escape to the east, and the door he’d come through.  

You opened the microwave before it could beep and poured the steaming water into the two clean mugs on your cluttered counter.  As you handed Bucky his mug of Constant Comment, the constellations on the heat-change mug started to show.

Several pillows and a few blankets sat piled on your couch, which you pushed onto the floor, and sat down crosslegged.

Bucky sat next to you, talking about the weather, about Peter having to start school again, about how when Sam showed up with a bugle Wanda threatened to chemically bond it to his backside should he play later than sundown.  Small talk, sure, but it made you laugh.

“Alright, Buck.  Lay it on me.”  You peered over the rim of your octopus shaped mug, sipping slowly.  “What’s on your mind?”

Bucky took a deep breath in, bobbed his tea bag, and asked, “Are you okay?”

The corner of your mouth turned up ever so slightly.  “I’m fine.  Are you okay?”

“I am a hundred years old, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“We’re friends.  Generally, that means we take turns worrying about each other.”  When he didn’t respond, you asked hesitantly, “We’re still friends, right?”

“Yeah.  We’re still friends.”

“I missed you,” you said quietly and Bucky’s heart was called back into his throat.  Shit, he’d missed you too.  “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, doll, what for?”

He could feel the heat radiating off your face as blood rose into your cheeks.  “I ran away.  From Strucker, myself, you guys.  You.”

“I’ve done my share of running.”

You shook your head.  “You’ve had valid reasons.  I should’ve handled it better,” you whispered into your tea before taking a long sip.

Bucky took a long look at you.  “It’s not a contest.”

“I know, but-” A car’s alarm forced its way into the room through the open window to your back, starling you and making you jump to your feet.  “Mr. Carson I swear to god if that’s your Prius again,” you trailed off to smack the wall you shared with your neighbor.  Presumably Mr. Carson.

His voice came back muffled through the wall, “Sorry!”  Only when the beeping stopped did your shoulders recede from your ears.

“Wow,” Bucky remarked, watching you closely as you plopped back onto the couch, burying your face in your hands.  “You sure you’re okay?”

You snorted, “Y’know I used to be better at hiding it.  I don’t know what happened.”

Against his better judgement, Bucky said quietly, living your chin, “Don’t hide.  Not from me.”

Good job, Barnes.  That’ll keep things platonic.  He withdrew his hand, internally facepalming and doing his best to ignore your expression.  Wasn’t he supposed to have retreated by now?  Recover you dumbass.  “I just mean,” he cleared his throat, “you’ve been shot at, in hiding, a car chase, an explosion and harassed by reporters.  That’s a lot to happen in two weeks.”

“Don’t forget chastised by Wanda and Rogers,” you said, laughing a little at the absurdity of your life at the present.

Bucky chuckled into his grimace, “Been there.  Not fun.”

“And now I’m afraid of microwaves, car alarms, and peanuts.”  You rolled your eyes and took another sip of tea.

“I freak out when it’s too cold,” he said with a shrug, “Especially if I’ve just woken up.”

“Buck,” you started.

“And, for the record, you could kick the shit out of any microwave.”

You let out a breath of laughter and nudged his shoulder, “What happened to not hiding?”

He grinned, “Made you laugh though.”

“Yeah, yeah, you cheese ball.”  You held his gaze, eyes filled with something he couldn’t quite read.

His eyes flicked away from you, knowing that they’d give him away, and reached for his tea.  “I’m still really fucked up.”

You stiffened and quickly deflated; he could feel it through the cushions.  A glance in your direction, and he saw you nodding, lost in thought.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your tone suddenly colder.  He waited for you to continue, frozen.  “I misjudged... this, and,” you paused, “We should probably just forget it.”

Bucky nodded for a bit.  Then he stopped nodding.  Then he looked you square in the eye.  “The thing is, I don’t want to forget it.  Because you didn’t misjudge anything.”

Your mouth popped open in surprise.  “So...”  You bit onto your lower lip just to keep your mouth shut.

“I don’t know what that means, for us, y’know.  I wouldn’t know where to begin, and I don’t know if I’m ready to be... But that’s... I thought you should know.  You, uh,” he chuckled in defeat, “you’ve done some kinda number on me, Reese.”

Feeling your face begin to flush, and your heart begin to pound, you joked, “Oh, we’re on last names, are we Barnes?”

“Denna.”

“Sorry.  You know, we could just go slow.  Like ultra slow.  Like, Steve playing Grand Theft Auto slow.”

He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling, cheeks bright red.  “Y’know, I actually kind of understand that reference.  He would probably try and use turn signals.”

“Well that’s an image I’ll never get out of my head.  It’s pretty funny, though.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”  Bucky smiled to himself, letting his eyes wander over your face.  “But I think that could work.  Us.  Going slow.  If that’s what you want.”

“I, yes.  That is what I’d like, yes.”  He put his mug back on the coffee table.  Your mouth turned up in a smile over your mug.  “Is your tea still hot?”

“What?  Oh, yeah.  Thanks.”

“You don’t have to drink it.”

“Thanks, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

A while later, the two of you were tidying your apartment.  You yawned, closing the closet door on the mass of blankets and pillows from the floor.

“Lets clean, he says.  You’ll feel better, he says,” you complained as you trudged over to Bucky, who was washing dishes, and thunked your forehead on his shoulder.

The smile was all over his voice as he replied, “You will.  Trust me, the worst thing for you right now is living in a mess.”

You craned your neck to look up at him, squinting in suspicion and from tiredness.  “Are you calling my apartment a dump?”

He glanced down at you, smirking.  “Only a little.”

“It’ll be fun, he says.”  You turned clumsily to bobble over to your couch, then flopped unceremoniously onto it facedown.

“Are you admitting defeat?”  You only groaned in response.  “It is well past midnight.”  You groaned louder.

“Shoot,” you said into a cushion, “Do you have to drive all the way back?”

“Not if you let me sleep on your couch.”

You wiggled somehow into a sitting position.  “You would be absolutely welcome to do that, or I can sleep on the couch, and you can sleep on my bed.”

He gave you a look.  “We aren’t seriously about to have this argument again, are we?  And why do I get the feeling you’ve slept on this couch every night since you’ve been back?”

“Because you’re a cyborg and a psychic?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you and crossed his arms in suspicion.  “How many days has it been since you’ve gone outside?”

“How many days ago was Italy?”

“Okay, we are going outside tomorrow.”

“But Jimmy,” you whined, stretching back out on the couch.

“And,” he sounded amused, “you aren’t sleeping on the couch.  C’mon.”

“I’m not even tired.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, I’m very tired I just don’t want to go to bed.”  Bucky looked you up and down.  You’d probably been having nightmares; most people would after the month you’d had, and that would explain your preference for the couch.  And if they were anything like his, he couldn’t fault you for avoiding sleep.

Eventually, he sighed and uncrossed his arms.  “What’d ya have in mind?”

Two and a half movies into a Star Wars marathon, you fell fast asleep on Bucky’s shoulder.  When he realized you were completely unconscious, he’d smiled, turned the sound down but not off, and shifted a little to lean a bit more comfortably against the couch and let you stretch out more, slipping his arm around your shoulders.  His movement didn’t seem to rouse you in the slightest.

He himself nodded off there for a few hours, until all your muscles tensed against him and he was called out of sleep.

Your brow was furrowed, mouth scrunched up and face paled in what seemed like vertigo, and your hand shot up to grab a handful of Bucky’s shirt.  His hold on you tightened slightly on instinct.

You mumbled a string of names: Steve, Ra, Wanda, Sharkbait, Bucky.

Neurons began to crackle on your fingertips.

Oh boy.

“Nope,” Bucky mumbled, “Den, wake up, doll.”  Your eyes flung open, glowing a soft yellow in the darkness.  Once you processed who you were laying on top of, you released his shirt and relaxed into him.

“Sorry.”

“You were talking in your sleep.  You okay?”

“Been better,” you blinked, trying to clear the sleep from your eyes, “What was I saying.”

“Uh, a lot of names, actually.  Ra, Wanda, Steve, somebody called ‘Sharkbait,’ me.”

“That would make sense”

“You know your eyes glow when you do that?”

“Do they?  Huh.  I did not know that.  Great.”

After a moment or two of silence, Bucky nodded to the kitchen.  “Tea?”  You shook your head, burying your face in his side.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

Carefully, you nodded, coming up for air.  “I was on this spinning plate thing, and I kept making people jump off.  I don’t know what they were falling into but it wasn’t good.  A-and after I did Ra, and Wanda, and Sharkbait, and you... and Mr. Stark, my parents, my boss and I think every other person I’ve ever met.  After I had them all jump to their deaths I looked up, and there was Tiffany Strucker and some henchmen, for lack of a better term, and she had me on puppet strings.”

He’d be lying if he said that didn’t sound familiar, but it wasn’t as if you’d made a habit of playing into Hydra’s hands.  He told you just that.

“How can we know that?” you asked.  “Everything that’s happened has been so, just, off.  I don’t know.  Why would she expend so much to capture you, capture me, and then put us in a room together when she knows full well what I’m capable of and didn’t even try to disable it.  I just don’t get it.  And she tortured you for hours, for no reason?”

“Okay, that’s a fair point.  I honestly don’t even remember all of it, but I think... please tell me you couldn’t hear...”  You nodded.  “God, Denna, no one should have to...  Should we restart Return of the Jedi?”

You sat up abruptly, shaking your head.  “It’s like six in the morning, you probably want to sleep.”

“Nu uh, come back here.”  He pouted at you, arms outstretched.  “If it’s six in the morning, that means in forty odd minutes we are gonna have a great view of the sunrise through that window.”

Smiling gratefully, you lowered yourself back into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his torso.  “Okay,” you said, “but no yawning when we go outside.”

“Who could yawn with you around?”

“Oh, hush.”

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep again, and looking down at your peacefully sleeping face, beautifully illuminated by the rising sun, he just couldn’t help himself.

“Denna,” Bucky whispered, “You’re asleep, right?”  Your toes twitched, and he had to stifle a chuckle.  He pushed a feather-light kiss to the top of your head.

He waited another moment, then began, “I think going slow is gonna be harder than I thought.  You’re just so damn, I don’t even have a word for it.  I just don’t know how to any of this anymore.  I dunno, maybe I never learned.  But I want to give you everything, ‘cause you deserve more than me.  And I’m too selfish to tell you that when you’re awake.  And I think it’s because I’m falling in love with you.”

In all his rambling, Bucky hoped a little, somewhere in him that was secret, that you could hear him.  But you were, in fact, sound asleep, and would be until eleven that morning.

But there were no more nightmares, so that was something

Genoa, some time ago

Tiffany Strucker made her way deeper into the earth beneath the facility, the area of her abdomen where Denna Reese had kicked her only slightly hindering her progress.  She’d been trained to withstand worse, much worse, after all.  The tunnels under the facility had been built during the war, but they hadn’t served much of a purpose until now.

She reached her destination, a dusty but functional lab, breathing heavily.  She wasted no time; she strapped herself into the chair in front of a console that whirred, inserting IV drips into her veins.

Jason and a very tall woman joined Strucker soon after. 

“I’ve brought the nymph, ma’am,” Jason said.

“Thank you, Jason,” Strucker started, when one of the many screens in front of her switched on, displaying the unhappy face of Hydra’s newest director.

“Strucker!” the man growled in anger, “Just what do you aim to accomplish here?”  A medium sized man, of medium build with a medium ranged voice, was extraordinarily unremarkable except for his abnormally long thumbs.

Still fiddling with the rest of the monitors, Strucker replied, “The Avengers have always been an impedance, sir, but once I get the Reese girl on our side, no one will dare go against us.”

He scoffed, “You had Sergeant Barnes in custody and you let her escape with him - hell, you’re compromising two score of our special operatives for this girl.”

“I will not fail,” she said through gritted teeth.  Feeds from the security cameras appeared on the screens.  The Avengers’ Quinjet had just landed on the beach.

“For your sake, Tiffany, you’d better not.”  Without another word, the director’s feed blacked out, and was replaced with another of Strucker’s office.

Jason spoke up, “I believe he is beginning to suspect... something.”

“If he has just now begun to suspect, then he is more of a fool than I thought.”  Strucker swiveled around to face the woman, the nymph standing in the corner.  Her hands folded in front of her and a shock collar hung on her neck.  “What of you, Egeria?  Has your vision changed?”

Egeria gave a thin smile, wondering why she’d let these mortals capture her.  “As I’ve told you, visions do not often ‘change,’ as you put it.  Reese and yourself are still the sides of a single coin.  What that coin is, I couldn’t tell you.”

Strucker nodded curtly and settled back into her seat.  “Jason, when the building blows, take her to the facility in Quebec.  I’ll meet you there shortly, and then, what we discussed?  Good.  Now, they’ll expect me to wake up soon.  I need to concentrate.”

[charlemane]

please tell me about getting dunked on by a baptist minister

Fair warning: this is gonna be an unnecessarily rambling story, because I don’t have any other modes of being.

        Well, about a month or so ago, I figured I’d give religion another shot, bc there came a point when laying facedown on floor listening to Phil Collins wasn’t doing it for me in terms of spiritual experience anymore. So I thought I’d go to the Lutheran church a block away from my apartment building bc a) I was raised Lutheran, mostly, and b) it was a block away from my apartment building. 

       Anyways, I got up Sunday morning, put on some clothes, and checked the website for Atonement Lutheran Church. (Which is one of the least Lutheran-sounding names for a Lutheran church that I’ve ever heard, but that’s irrelevant.) Website said they started at 9:15, so what with them being only a block away and me being who I am, I got there at 9:16 on the dot. And discovered that their sign said service started at 9:00. Well, at that point I was too embarrassed to try to come in late, and also I didn’t know which door to try to walk through (it’s never the front door, is it? it’s always something surprising) but I was also dressed and ambulatory on a Sunday morning and I hated to waste that.

        Thankfully, I was in Wisconsin, so I was able to powerwalk a few blocks and make it just in time for the Baptist church service at 9:30. It was chock full of the friendliest people and the most boring music- I’m serious, this stuff was even more boring than the Lutheran music I grew up with, and I didn’t even think that was legal. There was an entire hymn that was written solely in quarter notes. So I was partially asleep and not entirely paying attention to the sermon, though I kind of wish that I had been, because it involved the minister talking about either getting tear gassed at a protest in the 70s, or accidentally slightly tear gassing himself at a protest in the 70s. I think it was the latter. I’m not sure.

        Anyways, after the service, there was coffee hour in the community room across from the sanctuary. There was also cake for Leland’s birthday, which was slightly awkward because Leland hadn’t shown up to church that particular Sunday, but the rest of us ate the cake in his honor. As I was sitting down eating cake, the minister sat down to say hello to me, because I was a conspicuously new face in a small congregation. 

        “You go to the college over there?” He asked, because I apparently look like a political cartoon of a liberal arts college student.

        “Yeah,” I said, mouth full of Leland’s cake.

        “Freshman?”

        “Senior, actually.”

        And the minister- who may or may not have slightly accidentally tear gassed himself at a protest in the 70s- put down his fork, looked me in the eyes, and said “Four years, and this is the first time you come to visit?”

        I seriously considered going back to the Lutherans after that, but I’d already promised some very nice old Baptist ladies that I’d come back, and more than that, I’d eaten their cake. Next time I came around, there was homemade zucchini carrot cake at coffee hour. I still never met Leland.

[floralicious]

(I’m just gonna keep on waiting) Underneath the Mistletoe

Cross posted on ao3 

Summary:  In which Lucy hangs some mistletoe with the hopes of kissing her dream girl, and Alfendi pretends not to help her.

Relationships: Lucy Baker/Katrielle Layton

Rating: General Audiences (I think there’s one curse word but not like a super bad one)

A/N:  Guys I wrote this at four in the morning on December 23rd so I could make some quick edits and get it out on Christmas so my deepest apologies for the incohesive and slightly out-of-character writing. I know it's not the best but I really wanted to get this out while Christmas was still here! My school didn't get out until December 22nd (!!! I'm angery !!!) so I have had uuhhh zero time to write this idea which has been bouncing around my head for the whole month. Anyway hope you enjoy!

Happy holidays!!!

-

If anyone asked, he would swear he tried to discourage her.

Technically, he did. But alas, there was no stopping Lucy when she got it in her head that the Mystery Room should feature mistletoe for the duration of December.

She already had the stepladder out to hang it in the doorframe when he walked into work on the second day of the month.

“Oh, hey, Prof! Look at this,” Lucy said. She waved a bunch of mistletoe around. “Some bloke on the street was selling it. Isn’t it a perfect decoration?”

“Sorry, Baker, but the Mystery Room is a strictly mistletoe-free zone,” Alfendi replied. Lucy made some sort of sputtering noise in protest. She opened her mouth to speak, but Alfendi put up a finger.

“Before you say anything,” he said, “Let me explain. Reason one: we really have enough decorations.” At this he pointed to the rather obtrusive plastic tree on Lucy’s desk.

“Reason two,” he continued. “Life is awkward enough without the possibility of being caught under mistletoe with your coworkers. And finally, reason three: last time I tried hanging mistletoe in here, there were some really scarring experiences for everyone involved.”

“Oh.” Lucy took her foot off of the stepladder. “But… it really completes the decorations! And we can make new memories with it!” She gestured to the generous amounts of tinsel and lights strung around almost every object in the room. “Look how well it would go with my tree!”

At that moment, Alfendi realized what Lucy’s true motive was. Or at least suspected. At the time he was about 93.7 percent sure that Lucy wanted to get caught with Katrielle under the mistletoe.

Contrary to Katrielle’s belief, he knew it wasn’t just platonic interest when she asked him for Lucy’s mobile number. Or when they went to dinner together- without him as a middleman. Nonetheless, both women denied that anything was going on whenever he broached the subject.

“You know what? Let’s do it,” he said. Would it be so bad to help a friend out? “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Lucy jumped right back on the stepladder. “Thanks, Prof! This will be the best December ever!”

In the end, the mistletoe really caused more problems than he expected. Cut to December 10th. Over a week had passed without any mistletoe incidents, though it had hung over every person to pass through the Mystery Room door.

He supposed he had been in a bit of a rush that morning. He overslept, his own coffee machine was broken, the local coffee shop was crowded, and to top it all off, traffic was hell.

So when Alfendi ran into the Mystery Room that morning, he didn’t realize Lucy was crossing the threshold at the same time he was.

The two hit each other and stumbled to the floor. Alfendi sat up, and saw that Lucy was just laying facedown on the floor.

“Lucy? Are you alright?” he asked. “Uh, sorry- here.” He stood and offered her his hand. Lucy looked up at him. Her eyes were bright with mischief. She took his hand and planted a kiss on the palm.

He raised his eyebrows. “Why, Lucy. I hardly think-”

“Look, Prof!” She quickly stood up before he could say anything more. “Mistletoe, remember?”

“...Ah.”

“Nothing like that, silly. You miss your alarm this morning too?”

And the day continued. That was the first time the mistletoe had caused a problem, albeit a minor one, but it wasn’t to be the last.

The next mishap happened only two days later. Alfendi was showing Emiliana Perfetti from her division to his own in preparation for a case they would be collaborating on. Emiliana was a rather fast walker for her height, and he struggled to keep up as she breezed through the halls. He managed to get through the door at the same time she did, not realizing his mistake.

“Caught you!” said Lucy from her desk. She crossed her arms. “Another person at last!”

“What?” Emiliana said, in that disturbingly calm voice of hers. “I don’t understa- oh.” Her gaze followed Alfendi’s to the mistletoe above them. “Ms. Baker, if you think I’m going to go along with your scheme, I am afraid that you’re sorely mistaken.”

Alfendi took her hand. “Don’t worry, Perfetti. It’s nothing personal. If I may?”

She nodded reluctantly. “If only because you have been competent so far on this case of ours… And I suppose I could do with a bit of Christmas spirit.”

Alfendi ducked down to quickly peck the back of her hand. “There. Now, Lucy, if you’ll allow us to work..”

He thought that was that. The first true bout of awkwardness the mistletoe had caused was over, and hopefully no more would occur. He was proven wrong, however, when the very person Lucy was hoping for came through the door two hours later with her assistant.

“Hey, Al!” Katrielle said. “Why are you looking at me and Ernest like that? You’re sort of… glaring above our heads?”

“I would suggest that you both look up.” Oh, this was bad. Bad for Lucy, anyway. Maybe good for that assistant of Kat’s. At least Lucy was out on business at that moment.

Katrielle and Ernest looked up at the same time. Katrielle grinned and kissed Ernest on the cheek before he could comprehend what was happening.

“Oh… Miss Layton…” Ernest said as a blush rose to his cheeks. He looked oddly similar to a tomato in that moment, Alfendi thought.

He directed his glare at his sister. In the space of a few seconds, they had a silent exchange.

Alfendi twisted his face into an expression that inexplicably said “Stop leading him on.”

Now Katrielled raised her own eyebrows. “I’m really not,” the face said.

“Oh, really? What about the fact that you’re very much not interested in men, yet just kissed the one hopelessly in love with you?” was the silent reply. Or something along those lines. It was a difficult thing to convey without words, but Katrielle got the message.

She looked away. Now she was blushing.

“Anyway,” Alfendi said with a pointed look at Katrielle, “What’re you here for?”

“Um, a- a c-c-ase,” Katrielle stuttered. “Definitely not a specific person or anything! Nope! Just a detective and her trusty very platonic assistant!”

“Alright, fill me in.”

In retrospect, maybe Alfendi shouldn’t have let his little sister off the hook so easily. Maybe he should’ve called her later to get her to confess her feelings. But he figured it was for her and Ernest and Lucy to work out, not him.

The next time it happened was the 21st day of December.

Lucy and Alfendi were working in silence, finishing up some paperwork that needed doing. The door creaked and Lucy looked up, presumably hoping to see Katrielle.

“Hi, Hilda,” she said. Alfendi looked up. Indeed, Hilda Pertinax stood in front of him, intimidating as ever.

“Ah, Ms. Pertinax. I’ve been expecting you,” he said.

“Alfendi Layton. Don’t tell me you forgot today was the solstice, you prick.” She was wearing her signature coat properly today, accompanied by what Alfendi assumed was a fashionable scarf wrapped around her neck. She looked almost like the angel on top of Lucy's tacky tree, golden hair floating around her shoulders.

“I resent that! I did not forget, thank you! Or did you not hear me say I’ve been expecting you?” Alfendi replied.

“Hmph. Oh, and Lucy. Merry Christmas, dear. Or whatever.” Hilda rooted around in her purse and drew out a gift card to a popular cafe chain. She gave it to Lucy.

“Thanks much, Hilda. You really didn’t have to do anything for me, y’know…” Lucy said. “What’s this about then?”

“Al and Justin and I have always celebrated the winter solstice together. It became a tradition- one Al always forgets about, might I add- since our first year of uni. The snow was awful that year, no trains going anywhere, so we had to stay at school. And now, well, we get lunch and give each other cheap gifts,” Hilda said.

“I actually spent more than ten pounds on your present this year, so mine better be good. Anyway, the lunch hour is ticking away, so let’s get out of here,” Alfendi said. He stood up and went to put on his coat. “Any interest in tagging along, Lucy?”

“Work awaits, as per th’ usual, Prof,” she replied.

“Alright, well, see you later.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucy twirled her pen in her fingers as Hilda and Alfendi started to leave. He really wasn’t expecting it when Lucy yelled “Wait!” It was an extremely loud yell- one she usually reserved for when she solved cases.

“Godamnit, Lucy!” he said. “What was that for?”

She silently pointed to the top of the doorway. The odd couple looked up.

“Of course,” Hilda said. “And here I thought you learned your lesson about mistletoe.”

“I have learned. It was Lucy’s idea,” Alfendi grumbled.

“Rules are rules, Prof,” Lucy said. “Two people end up under the mistletoe, they hafta kiss.”

Hilda put on a dry smile. “Shall we? For old times sake?”

“Hmph. Back when you thought you liked men and I thought I didn’t. Come here, then,” he said. And they kissed. Rather too passionately for friends, Lucy thought, but she supposed they did have a history. She watched as they walked away, both laughing as Alfendi tried to get Hilda’s lipstick off of his face.

After the solstice incident, Alfendi was genuinely worried that Lucy’s plan would never come to fruition. Every time Kat had come into their workplace that month had been a bad one, and he knew how much the two needed to resolve their obvious sexual tension.

Eventually, he took matters into his own hands and dialed up his sister.

“Alfendi, can this wait?” said Katrielle’s voice, tinny through his phone.

“I know you aren’t busy, shut it. You’re probably just waiting around for a case and playing with Sherl. Am I correct?”

“100 percent,” Kat sighed. “So what can I do for you?”

“I’m also 99 percent sure you won’t be doing anything at the time of the holiday party at the Yard tomorrow. Which you are expected to be at, as usual, and I also need you to be in my office ten minutes early. If you value your safety, don’t ask questions. Just be there,” Alfendi said.

“Al, I really don’t see why-”

“Nope! No questions!” he cut her off. “Be there. You’ll thank me later, I promise.” And Alfendi hung up.

The next day was Christmas Eve. Most of the Yard worked right up until or even on Christmas Day, so the party was always held the day before.

Fifteen minutes before, Alfendi set his trap.

“Lucy, would you do me a favor and stand under the mistletoe? It’s for a case. ‘The Merry Murderer,’ they’re calling it.”

“I s’pose?” Lucy did as he asked. She looked exceedingly confused.

“Thank you. Just… stay there. You’ll see.” Alfendi backed away slowly. He pretended to inspect the case file, being very careful not to look at the open door.

He didn’t have to pretend for long, though. Not five minutes later, Katrielle walked in and stopped next to Lucy.

“Oh! Kat! Good to- er- good to see you!” Lucy said, blushing.

“Alfendi, what is all this about? You better have a good reason for this! I’m actually on time for once.” Katrielle was unusually composed for someone wearing a hat with a puffball on it.

Alfendi turned around and tried to look surprised. “Oh, you’re here. Well. Kat. Kitty. Sister. Katrielle. Look up,” he said, smiling mischievously.

Lucy realized before Kat did. She turned a rather worrying shade of red, not unlike Ernest had.

“Prof! You didn’t- you couldn’t have-”

“Whatever you’re thinking, I didn’t do it. I really did need you there for a case,” Alfendi said, holding up the case file.

Kat glared at him. “You dirty-”

“Ah ah ah. Mistletoe first!”

Alfendi technically discouraged the kissing. He did avert his eyes when Lucy and Katrielle kissed, and shoved them out of the doorway, so if anyone asked, he had no idea what was happening while he was at the party.

And when he got a text from Katrielle the next morning with numerous heart emojis, he knew the mistletoe was probably worth all of the trouble it caused.

end

Thanks for reading! Please like/reblog!

[blossom-and-others]

Uriel lay face up on his bed, limbs sprawled out like a starfish. His mouth felt dry. Was that a symptom of the water angel being gone? In all of eternity, not a single archangel had ever been thrown out. Lucy was the first. And all it had taken was a snide comment. 

He really needed to get some water.

Uriel almost faceplanted in his effort to roll out of bed. Now lying on the floor, Uriel decided against getting water after all. They’d probably have to come up with a new way to handle water now. Who’d take over Lucy’s powers, anyway?

Before Uriel had a chance to start going through the candidates, a soft knock sounded on his door.

“Come on in, Gabe, I’m dissociating!” He called. Michael would never knock so politely, and the two of them were the only ones who ever bothered him in his room.

Sure enough, when the door creaked open, it was Gabriel who stepped in. He was a little bemused at the sight over Uriel sprawled facedown on the floor, tangled in blankets and making no effort to move from his position.

“Lookin’ good, Uri,” he snorted, crouching beside his brother. Uriel glared at the ground, silent.

“I just came in here to tell you that Michael-”

“No,” Uriel said in horror. After struggling for a moment, he sat up pin straight. “No, that’s not right.”

“What?”

“Michael’s gonna get Lucy’s powers!”

Gabriel looked uncomfortable.

“No, uh, actually I am.”

“Oh.” Well, you’re certainly better than Michael, Uriel thought. But- “You’re the archangel of fire though. That doesn’t really make sense.”

Gabriel shrugged. “That’s what I came in here to tell you. I mean, it’s not like I asked to get her powers, Michael just told me I’d take them. And I guess I’d rather do it than let Michael.”

Uriel raised his eyebrows. It was rare to hear Gabriel voice his dislike of Michael. The two were so intertwined these days that there would be little point to Gabriel bringing up an issue. Michael could do what he wanted.

“Also, this is maybe really upsetting and inappropriate but, do you think you could teach me?” Gabriel was twisting his hands and avoiding eye contact. Uriel couldn’t think of a time he’d seen him this awkward. Evidently, it was a weird day for Gabe.

“Honestly I have no idea how I could help.” It came out a little cooler than Uriel expected, but he wasn’t about to apologize. Gabriel wasn’t allowed to back Michael and get Lucy damned and then come in here and look like a kicked puppy for brownie points. Gabe had lost Uriel’s trust a long time ago, and this wasn’t enough to get him back in his good books. Not by a long shot.

“Well I just thought, you know her better than anyone, plus light is kind of a fluid, and I really just don’t-”

“Listen, Gabe, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Uriel cut him off, irritation suddenly spiking for some reason. “Ask someone else.”

“...okay, that’s fair.” Gabriel stood. He cast a glance around the room like he was looking for something, turned, and walked out.

[sickdaysofficial]

Anywhere but here!... Too late.

My OC submission for this prompt. I wrote this while in pain from four fricken shots and also didn’t proofread so it might suck, but whatever. The others will hopefully be better. Mild language warning.

—–

“Hi, what can I get you?”

Jesse usually doesn’t mind his job, repetitive phrases and all. The coffee shop is small and locally owned, so the customers are nearly always polite and undemanding, and hectic days are uncommon. Today, though, he’s struggling to make it through his shift, which still has an hour and a half left.

The girl ordering gives a charming smile. “Just a hot chocolate is fine.”

“What size?”

“Medium.”

It takes Jesse a second longer than it should to remember what comes next. “Your name?”

“Mallory.”

Silently hoping to himself that he’s spelled it right, Jesse scribbles the name on the side of a cup. “Coming right up. That’ll be $3.49.” He sets the cup on the counter next to him for Rhiannon, who was filling the orders.

The girl hands him a five, and Jesse carefully counts out her change. He’s messed up the last three times, and his coworkers were starting to notice.

Rhiannon in particular is suspicious. As she grabs the two cups waiting for her on the counter, she shoots him a sideways glance.

“Jesse, I really think you should sit down.” Jesse only shakes his head. There’s no need to defend himself to her; he’s fine to work the rest of his shift. Anyway, it’s none of her business.

Rhiannon bites her lip. She doesn’t say anything more as she moves to fill the orders, but instead gives her friend a silent once-over. Now that there’s nobody in line, Jesse has leaned up against the counter with his eyes closed. He’s seemed a bit shaky on his feet, and she notices for the first time that he looks flushed - a faint pink tinge stands out against the pale skin beneath his eyes.

Rhiannon’s coworker, Missy, gives her a nudge. “Those are done, yeah? Put ‘em on the counter.”

She snaps out of it. “Right, yeah, sorry. One hot chocolate and one black coffee!” The two who had ordered walk up to get their drinks, nearly crashing into one another. Rhiannon and Missy watch the ensuing awkward apology with some amusement.

Before the situation can be totally resolved, a dull THUD catches Rhiannon’s attention. She turns on instinct and stiffens when she sees Jesse sprawled facedown on the countertop.

“Crap,” she hisses under her breath, rushing over to check on him. Missy follows behind her, worried and uncertain.

“Is he okay?” one of the customers mutters. He shuffles a bit, looking like he wants to do something but isn’t sure what.

Rhiannon lays a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, followed immediately by a fierce scowl. She can feel just how hot his body is through his shirt, but just as concerning is the slight, constant shivering.

Missy takes one look at Rhiannon’s expression and reads the whole situation immediately - there isn’t much that makes Rhi angry like this. “How bad is he?” She comes around to Jesse’s other side and attempts to lift his so that she can support his weight. Her eyes widen as soon as she touches him. “Pretty bad,” she finishes, answering her own question.

“You idiot.” Rhiannon sighs and looks over at Missy. “Let’s take him to Jeff’s office.” The two women heft Jesse’s limp body and carefully maneuver around the equipment and towards their manager’s office, followed by the quiet buzz of gossiping patrons.

Jeff looks up with his usual genial smile at the sound of the door opening. Upon seeing the three workers, though, his face immediately crumbles into a look of concern. “What happened?”

“He passed out,” Rhiannon mutters. “He’s running a crazy fever, I’m pretty sure he’s sick.”

Jeff comes out from behind his desk and hefts the younger man easily in his arms. “Mmm, I can feel it. Poor boy.” He carries Jesse over to the couch in the back, usually reserved for employees on break, and lays him gingerly onto the plush cushions.

“Now, let’s see here,” he begins, turning to face the girls and placing his hands on his hips. “We ought to call someone to pick him up, he can’t be allowed to work like this.”

“I’ve got his boyfriend’s number,” Rhiannon offers.

Jeff smiles at her. “Perfect!” The simple statement exudes pride, far more than most would feel for a simple phone number. “Why don’t you call him and then sit with Jesse while we wait for him. Missy, you and I will take over for now.”

Missy looks relieved that the situation had been handled with such ease. “'Kay.” Jeff strides out without another word, Missy right behind him.

Rhiannon sinks down beside her sick friend, leaning up against the couch. As she searches for Matt’s number in her contacts, she uses her other hand to feel Jesse’s forehead, frowning in consternation when she does so. She slips off Jesse’s glasses and pushes herself up from the floor, heading for the bathroom to wet a paper towel.

Simultaneously, she presses her phone to her ear, silently praying that Matt would pick up despite also being at work.

—–

Matt is surprised when his phone rings. He doesn’t get many calls at work, or in general, really, so he has no idea what this might be about.

“I - sorry, can I take this real quick?” He meets his frazzled manager’s eyes. Brent sighs but nods, waving him away.

“It’s fine, just make it quick. Your break ended a minute ago.”

Matt nods and steps outside. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he frowns when he sees “RHI” emblazoned across the screen. She should still be at work - why would she be calling him now of all times?“

"Rhi? What’s up?”

“Your boyfriend’s an idiot.” Her uncharacteristically angry tone catches Matt off guard, but what really surprises him is the worried undercurrent.

“Why, what happened?” Matt knows he’s more of a risk-taker than his boyfriend is, so if either one of them would do something stupid and get hurt, it would usually be him.

“He passed out at work. He’s running a fever and he hasn’t stopped shivering since I’ve been sitting with him.”

“Seriously?” He feels himself tense up. “Why didn’t he tell anyone before it came to that?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. It doesn’t matter now, though, you need to come get him. We don’t have medicine or anything here, I can’t take care of him like this.”

“Shit, uh, okay. Hold on a second.” He dashes back inside, dreading the conversation he’s about to have with his manager.

“Hey, Brent? I’m really sorry - ” As soon as the work sorry leaves his mouth, Brent’s expression morphs into one of frustrated resignation. “ - but my… my roommate passed out at work and I need to go get him.”

Brent sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “There’s no one else who can get him?” Matt shakes his head. “No one who can look after him until your shift ends?” Another shake. “All right. I’m going to assume that I won’t be seeing you back today. Call as soon as possible if you can’t make it in tomorrow. And kick his ass once he’s okay. You realize this is less pay for you and a busier time for the rest of us.”

A twinge of guilt runs through him, but Matt knows that his boyfriend needs him more than his coworkers right now. “Yeah, I know. Sorry again.”

“Not your fault. Just get going.”

—–

The bell above the door tinkles cheerily when Matt walks into the coffee shop, contrasting with his mood. The shop is mostly empty now - just a few patrons engrossed in their laptops.

The man working the counter looks up when Matt walks in; Matt recognizes him as Jesse’s boss, although he can’t remember the guy’s name. “Where’s Jesse?” he asks without preamble.

The man smiles kindly. “You must be Matt. Jesse’s told us a lot about you.” He points to a door behind him. “He’s back there. You can come around that side of the counter.”

“Thanks.” In the blink of an eye, Matt is behind the counter and stepping through the doorway. Rhiannon looks up when he walks in.

“Hey,” she says. “Good timing. He just woke up.”

“She won’t give me back my glasses,” Jesse mutters in irritation, voice raspy.

Matt kneels down next to him, brushing Jesse’s cheek with his thumb. He frowns upon feeling the feverish heat. “You won’t be needing them anyway. You should still be asleep.” His initial thought had been to chew his boyfriend out about hiding his sickness from everyone, but the sight of Jesse lying stretched out on the couch, clearly miserable, soften him. “C'mon, sit up. I’m gonna bring you home.”

Rhiannon lends a supporting arm around his shoulders as Jesse eases himself into a sitting position. He turns so that his feet are on the ground, but hesitates to stand. “I’m… I feel kinda dizzy,” he admits. “I don’t know if I can stand.” The words are laced with embarrassment, and Matt’s heart goes out to him.

“Here, I’ll carry you.” Matt carefully works an arm under the crook of Matt’s knees, cradling his warm, lightly trembling boyfriend close as he lifts carefully. Despite his earlier cover-up, Jesse has fully embraced the fact that he’s sick; it’s a testament to how badly he’s feeling when he buries his face between Matt’s neck and shoulder.

Rhiannon follows them out, holding onto her sick coworker’s glasses. Missy and Jeff wave as Matt makes his way toward the door. “Feel better, Jesse,” Jeff says genuinely. Jesse makes a weak noise of assent, not lifting his head.

When the group of three reaches Matt’s car, Rhiannon opens the passenger door so that Matt can deposit him there. She wordlessly hands Jesse’s glasses over to Matt and leans over to buckle Jesse’s seatbelt. Matt walks around to the other side.

Once everything is situated, Matt rolls down the window. “Thanks for calling me. I don’t know what we’d do without you looking out for us.”

She sighs. “Die, probably.”

He offers a rueful smile. “You might be right.”

“Come on, we’re not that bad.” Jesse barely speaks above a whisper, but the faintest trace of a smile paints his lips.

“You kind of are.” Rhiannon softens her demeanor. “Rest up, okay? We all want you to stay away from work until you’re better. Customers included, they don’t want your germs.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Good. Bye, guys.” Seemingly satisfied, she turns and walks back to finish her shift as Matt rolls up the window.

The car is silent for the duration of the ride home. Matt is content to let Jesse rest. They are definitely going to have words once Jesse is more coherent - he still needs to kick Jesse’s ass for this, after all. But for now, Matt is all gentleness as he carries his ailing boyfriend to his room.

“Call me if you need anything,” he whispers, running a hand through Jesse’s sweat-damp hair.

Jesse’s eyes open, swiveling to look vaguely in Matt’s direction as a tiny smile appears. “I always will.”

—–

(If I can shamelessly plug myself real fast, my url is @swiggity-swump.)

[eveybronlin-blog]

and the wisdom to know the difference...

It was starting to feel muggy out...like spring, but with winter’s heavy moist air not yet ready to leave. Jonathan and I tried not to fill the few days of reprieve from everyday routine in New Orleans life. Mardi Gras meant plans were always open to change and if something came up that sounded better than what you had going, you didn't hesitate to join. But what was best about being in the city at this time, besides the early spring weather, was Jonathan’s own ease in how he approached things. I needed that. Without it subtly shifting my own attitude, I’d be anxious and worried over everything and nothing all at once. But Jonathan never made me feel like I had to answer for anything, and we never had to rush or worry. When we had been together lately during the day -and evenings when we decided to head out- we spent the time just strolling around, stopping for coffee here and there, and making our plans up as we went along. He seemed to know everyone. This was nice, but I’d learned him well enough by now to know how much he appreciated being alone. This is how we found ourselves walking back home after a long afternoon with his friends, completely enjoying the quiet between us while people-watching - my favorite parts of Mardi Gras.

------------------------

I couldn’t remember the last time I was this tense while driving. I kept shaking my hands out when they cramped up on the steering wheel. Luckily the traffic gods were feeling benevolent, and the drive hadn’t been too bad. I figured another 20 or 30 minutes, and I’d be in New Orleans.

I had only been down a couple times to meet with Leo. She’d been down here that whole time, and I never knew it. At least I assumed she’d been here. I wasn’t sure about anything concerning her really. Was I ever?

Garett’s words kept replaying in my head. Drowning out whatever song was playing on the radio. Drowning. Thanks, Subconscious. He swore to me that Clea was doing better and had returned to work, but I still couldn’t bring myself to let her know what I was doing. The sight of her collapsing wasn’t one I wanted to repeat any time soon. I’d fill her in later. Maybe. If there was anything to tell.

---------------------------

On our way back, Jonathan had suggested we stop in one of the small shops on Magazine owned by a friend of his (of course) and after introducing us, she walked me through the shop grabbing “this and that” for me to try. She mentioned something about a “glass of wine and a hot bath” being “the cure for anything - especially a broken heart,” and I just looked to Jonathan quizzically - he motioned back silently that he had no idea what she meant. Maybe she just knew? I thought I'd done a good job of keeping everything below the surface. But maybe she was like Clea - she certainly seemed to be the sort who knew how to read someone. Once my bag was full, I went to pay and she pushed my money back to me, “Pay it forward,” was all she whispered my way as she took my hands in hers. It was almost too much. Jonathan put an arm around me and thanked her for me as he walked us out to the street.

Once we were home, he offered to take Sully for a walk while I went upstairs to put my things away. I thanked him again - and once again, he gave me the look that said “stop thanking me” - I was learning. Slowly. After hanging my beads from the banister, I made it into my room and shut the door. I took each little treat out carefully and laid them on the bed - after picking up Darius’s photos strewn out over the blanket and laying them back near my pillow.

I'd given up on putting his pictures anywhere else. They always ended up on the bed anyway - Annie was persistent. I'd taken to telling her some of my more favorite memories of Darius, hoping that would oblige her but I think I just encouraged her. Sometimes it made me feel better to share them...sometimes not so much. Today I wanted to enjoy my memories though. I grabbed the one of him and I that we took together while laying on the floor one night and carried it to the bathroom. Propped up against the bar of lavender soap I just opened, I left it alone as I scattered out the rest of the creams and lotions I'd been given. I walked back to my bed to get one of the candles - vanilla - and sure enough, when I walked back in the bathroom, his photo was flipped over and lying flat and facedown. Written on it was the date - the day we’d moved in together. 2014. God...had it been three years? I knew the answer. I just wished I could change it away. I'd left him a different man than he likely was today. And even then he was more of a man than I deserved… suddenly a loud smack came from the other room - I walked back in to investigate and sure enough, the box of all the saved letters and cards were flipped off the shelf again. “You know this would be a lot more fun if you could actually pick things back up, right?” I said upward, glancing around to the empty room as I picked some of my things up. The curtain breezed softly and seconds later my door slammed shut.

“Does Jonathan ever have to deal with Annie like this on his own?,” I wondered… “or am I just lucky?” I held tense for a second...waiting for a response that didn't come. That's fair. She's probably gone now.

I hesitated to go back downstairs but I wanted to try out this “wine and hot bath” suggestion. I figured I could clean the mess up off the floor while my water ran, so I walked back and started the bath before walking quietly downstairs to get a glass of wine. I looked around the kitchen but saw neither Sully nor Jonathan. The tub upstairs was huge - I had plenty enough time to have a small-ish glass before pouring another and going back upstairs with it. I leaned back against the counter as I slowly savored that first glass and listened for signs of life...or afterlife. Nothing. Perfect.

--------------

I took my time once I got into New Orleans. Checking the gps on my phone. Adjusting for parade route closures and detours. I knew I was close, but parking was a problem. I decided to park on a small side street and walk the rest of the way. It would give me time to think and figure out what I was gonna say.

Who was I kidding? No matter how much time I had, was never gonna find the right words. What do you say to the woman who vanished as soon as you proposed?

The Garden District was a really cool place to walk around. So much so I almost missed the house. What a house. It looked like something out of a movie. I triple checked the address and shoved my phone in my pocket.

I decided to walk around the corner and check out the house from other angles. Yeah. I was procrastinating. Maybe I was hoping to catch sight of her from a distance. Enough to see her and know she was ok, but not have to face her or my feelings. No such luck.

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. I walked up to the front porch and knocked on the door.

----------------

I was half-way up the stairs with a second glass of wine when I heard the knock. I assumed a friend of Jonathan’s was stopping in to look for him, but I honestly didn't know where he'd gone - I had figured he was in the yard with Sully but, I don't know, maybe not. I rushed up the stairs hoping whoever it was wouldn't mind waiting a minute and hollered as I reached the top step, “Just a minute!”

After placing my glass down and turning the water off, I picked it back up, propped Darius’s picture back up...again...and grabbed my glass before stomping back down the stairs, “I’m coming!” I made it to the door quick enough to take a sip of wine before I swung the door open a bit too forcefully - but still smiling, “Sorry, Jonathan’s not h-...”

-My glass slipped out of my hand and crashed to the floor, glass and wine splattering everywhere...the room suddenly started to shrink and the floor lifted from under my feet-

“Oh god...oh my god...Darius…” The last thing I felt was my stomach leaping to my throat as I started to fall-

-------------

A dog barking behind me caught my attention. The next few minutes were a blur.

Her voice.

A crash.

The dog again.

A man’s voice.

My instincts kicked in as I saw her fall. Something shoved her...hard against me as I moved to catch her. I cradled her to my chest and felt a hand push me towards a parlor of some sort.

“No, Sully! Stay!”

I hurried over to the sofa and laid her down. So pale. Thin. Too thin. She weighed nothing when I picked her up. My heart sped up in my chest as I looked around.

Shitshitshitshitshit

Now what?

Shit.

-----------------

The ceilings are much higher than I remembered...blink...my first thought - then, oh my god, I have to clean up the glass…

I started to sit up, but the room still felt like it was shrinking...I blinked a few more times and refocused my eyes and my thoughts...oh my god...Darius

He was next to me, brushing my hair out of my face, looking back and forth between me and Jonathan...Jonathan was telling him something but I couldn’t make it out. I turned my head and the room spun...closing my eyes helped, but I wanted to stay awake in case he wasn’t really here and it all faded away once my eyes closed.

I tried sitting up again, onto my elbows...our eyes stayed locked and I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to. My eyes burned as I gave into my tears...the last time I felt like this...I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I felt.

--------------

Everything told me to leave. Get the hell out of here and just drive. I hadn't felt like this since….since I fell in love with her. But now. Now I felt exactly like the monster she worked so hard convincing me I wasn't. First Clea, now Evey.

I didn't want to touch her. I swear I didn't. If I touched her, it meant she was here. If I touched her, it meant she rejected me.

I watched as my hand reached out and brushed the hair from her eyes. That's when she opened them. I jerked my hand back. Her eyes locked on mine. I heard a voice. That guy she was staying with? I have no idea what he said. All I saw were her eyes. And then her tears. Soon I couldn't even see those as my eyes, my face, my chest burned from tears of my own.

------------

I didn't know what to say, what to do. I'd done this. This was all my doing.

But he was here…

And I couldn't figure out what to do with that. I wanted to reach out and cry with him. For us to collapse into whatever it was. But the air felt as fragile as my glass on the floor and I didn't know if I’d break anything else.

Jonathan had stepped out. It was just us.

“Darius,” I started as I sat up and shifted myself onto the floor, “I'm so sorry.” My words tumbled out in fragments, broken by my tears, “I didn't…I thought,” ...I...I...I - always about me. Look what I've done… “I don’t deserve you…didn't,” I sat back on my heels and let the weight of my sin sink inside of me as I watched him weeping. I couldn't reach out to him. I wanted to, but I didn't deserve to. Wiping my face on my sleeve, I realized this may be the last time I’d see him, and I just broke even harder, sobbing as I took his rings from around my neck and tried to hold them out, clutching them in my hand too tightly to let them go. “I never deserved these,” was all I could get out, almost a whisper. “...didn't deserve you.”

My stomach wanted to leap from my throat. My head was still spinning and I couldn't hold my own weight up anymore...I slid off my own feet and fell at his. I just laid there and cried with my face against the bottom of his jeans...he smelled like home.

----------------

I finally understood Clea’s collapse. I hated it, but I understood it.

Tears continued to burn my eyes as I listened to her….confess? Apologize? Breakdown?

Voices. My head was filled with voices. “Who the hell does she think she is telling you what you deserve? What kind of lame response is I’m sorry? Sorry for what? Meeting you? Making you think you could ever be in love? Taking off without a word? Putting Clea through hell? WHAT THE FUCK WAS SHE SORRY FOR?”

My hands shook as I fought the urge to rip my hair out. I couldn't do this. Couldn't give in to the anger eating away at my gut. It bubbled up like lava threatening to spill out all over the floor until I thought I wa going to dry heave.

The voices sounded like the people I grew up with. I couldn't really call them my parents.

They weren't my parents. It was biologically impossible. I still remembered telling her about it all. How I tried to block out a lot of it. The confusion. The investigation. How they found the other kid. Their "real" son. On paper anyway. How they tried to contact the family and see him, but the other family refused. Through a lawyer no less.

How they never treated me badly. Not really. How they never intentionally made me feel like a stranger...until puberty hit. That's when everything got worse. Happy 12th Birthday! You're even more of a freak now! How they thought I was trying to run away. How they tried grounding me, but every time that itching started I found a way out.

Finally the only voice in my head was mine.

ENOUGH!  

Everything was so quiet. No dog. No voices. Just…..her sobbing. Her breath catching in her throat. She was a puddle at my feet.  

Oh god, Evey. My Evey.

I slid off the sofa and wrapped myself around her like a blanket. It wasn't just her sobbing any more. The harder I cried, the tighter I pulled her against me. My tears soaking her back. Soon we were a tangle of arms, legs….and tears.

------------------

Time must have passed, but I couldn't have known how long. 5 minutes? 20? An hour? We just fell apart into one another for what felt like an eternity of time paused. I didn't even notice Darius holding me until he pulled me so tightly into himself - as if either of us might run away from all of it if we let go.

Suddenly I noticed the quiet. My hair, wet from both our tears, stuck to my face as I buried myself into his shirt. My hands were wrapped into the fabric so tightly - like I might fall if I let go. I couldn't feel the rest of me...just his arms and legs wrapped around me, his face buried in my neck and hair, his breath - finally slowing and warm on my skin. We both just sat still, our breathing slowing down together and yet neither of us letting go.

I didn't want to speak. I didn't want to break what was happening between us because if I did - I knew he'd leave. We’d be done for good.

Until he showed up...I'd had this false hope that I hadn't even recognized. Like I thought I could go right back and pick up where I left. I'd been a selfish fool.

And I was so afraid he'd see me for what I was. Horrible. Undeserving. Not worth it.

I just inhaled the air around us. That scent that had drawn me into him so long ago. It still possessed me. Made me calm. Made me whole. I couldn’t explain it the first time I inhaled it and I still couldn't now.

I couldn't let go. I kept myself wrapped into him. One hand stayed tangled in his shirt while my other fingers loosened their grip and found their way to his hair. I wanted to feel him… to know it was real that he was here. My fingers laced into the thickness of his hair, pulling his head closer to my own, finding their way to touch his skin...the nape of his neck...behind his ear...his cheek… I couldn't say anything that felt worthy of his forgiveness. I just wanted him to stay.

“I…,” I began, in a whisper into his shirt, taking a deep breath from his own air to carry me as I tried to word what was coursing through me, “I was afraid.” He flinched. I let my hand fall from his cheek into my lap and I tried to not give into my worst fears…

“I was wrong. I don't feel like...I have never felt like I deserved you. And I don't know how,” my tears choked in my voice again, hoarse now from all of it, “I wanted all of it. All of you.” My hand found its way to the rings around my neck and twisted them as if they would spill out the words for me, “I just didn't know how…you never gave me a reason to not trust you but everything inside me told me I didn't deserve any of it...and,” the words poured out that had been stuck in my mouth for the last three years, “I have always wanted to be your wife,” his arms tightened around me, “But I didn't know how you could want me.”

I shut up. I deserved no more of his patience and I didn't want to anger him no matter how much I deserved it. He had every right to push me away and get up and leave. And I would never have blamed him if he chose to. This was all my doing. This was all my fault.

I buried myself into him and ignored the voice that told me I deserved to be left. I just breathed. I ignored it and breathed. His scent still entranced me. I know I would never feel at home away from him. And I may never have him this close again. I just needed to breathe.

--------------------------

I grew still as she spoke. Exhausted and drained.

When she said she was afraid, I couldn’t help it. I flinched. I thought at first she was afraid of me. That she was telling me I was the monster I feared I might be. But…..it wasn’t me she was afraid of. It was herself. I don’t know why or how she learned to feel that way, but I knew that it wasn’t something I could fix. None of this was. No matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much I loved her.

When her words were spent and she fell silent except for her ragged breathing, I kissed her forehead lightly. The air around us felt so fragile. I was afraid to break it.

The hard floor was pressing against me relentlessly. I needed to move. I slowly and carefully scooped her up, her face still buried in my chest, and moved us to the sofa. I sat heavily with her cradled in my lap, my arms around her. I wasn’t even sure if she was aware we had gotten up.

“Evelin.” My voice was low. My cheek resting against the top of her head. “I can't do this. I can't make everything better. Nothing I say or do is likely to change your mind about how you feel. I don't have that kinda power.”

“When you first met me, I was like a stray animal you nursed back to health. And you did. You helped me accept my nature. But then….,” I stroked her back. I couldn't tell if she was asleep or just breathing deeply to stop from breaking further. “Then when I was no longer that injured stray. When I was just a guy who happened to be a shifter falling in love with you. I don't think you knew what to do with me.”

I exhaled softly and squeezed my eyes shut briefly. “I’m not blaming you, Evey. Neither of us did anything wrong. There's obviously stuff you brought with you that lived with us. Stuff I couldn't see. Stuff I don't know about. Stuff that followed you here. I guess it got in the way of us being like other couples. When I proposed….,” my voice trailed off. Did anything I said make sense?

---------------

“I was just a guy who happened to be a shifter falling in love with you.”

“I don't think you knew what to do with me.”

For the longest time, I’d been the strong one for him. He was right.

I pulled my legs in tightly to my chest and leaned closer into his arms. I waited for him to say anything else…

“When I proposed….”

I never faltered in my devotion to who Darius was. I just didn’t want to be the one to ruin him.

“I was afraid,” I sniffed, then found my voice a bit better, “I was afraid I would ruin you...us. Who you are was always there.” I spoke up firmly for the first time, “You were never a ‘stray’ to me. Never.” I let myself rest a moment, the tension in my shoulders fell. His head grew heavy on mine and I relished in how close he was…

“That ‘stuff’,” I forced my shoulders back down as they crept up tightly, “I didn’t see it either. And, no, you can’t make it better. I don’t expect you to.” breathe…

“Once we, once you were ‘better’ - and I never saw you as needing to be better - but once you felt ‘better’, then it all came up,” my fingers found his shirt again and tightened into it. “I ran away because...that’s what I’ve always done. And,” I used his shirt to wipe my eyes, no more tears, but sore and tired, “If not for…” the lump was back in my throat. I had to tell him. He must already know. Clea. Of course. “If Jonathan hadn’t stopped me, I would have...I would have run from all of it for the last time.” He suddenly felt like rigid stone beneath me. If he’d have let me, if his grip around me had loosened, I’d have moved out of fear of whatever I was doing to him. But I couldn’t. He wasn’t letting me go.

“It’s all out there now, Darius. I can see it. It’s horrifying and hurtful and it eats at me and…” breathe… “and I, I just see it now. And I don’t know. Seeing it makes it real and being real makes it seem like...something I can fight back against. I know you can’t make it better. You can’t change my mind, Darius. I know that. I couldn’t change yours...you did that.” I didn’t know where this was coming from...but clarity hit me like a brick, no, clarity had lifted a ton of bricks off of me. “None of what I felt was my fault - just like your own...abuse - none of it was ever our fault. Do you understand that for yourself? I didn’t, Darius...I am still getting there...but I can see now that none of it was because of me. And I should never have had to figure out any of this anymore than you should have had to for yourself...but I am...I will.”

My shoulders were back down, relaxed. He was less so, but also less rigid.

“I don’t know what to tell you that you don’t already know at this point. I never stopped loving you,” I rested my face against his chest and rubbed my cheek against him naturally, inhaling him ...marking him. “I don’t know why you’re here,” I said it...he would answer and leave...I fought against what felt like the truth I deserved when I hoped for more... “but you are. And...I’m a mess. And I don’t know what’s ahead.” I needed to shut up. “But I still love you.”

---------------------

I didn’t want to hear her say it, but she did. She admitted her attempt. Maybe I needed to hear it.

I felt helpless. She was weighed down by so much. Just...so much.  

She didn’t know why I was here. That at least was something I could work with. Even if she didn’t like the answer.

“I’m here because I needed to see you for myself. To see why Clea had such a haunted look in her eyes before she collapsed on me.” She stiffened at the mention of Clea, but I expected that. “To see if what she told Garett and what Garett told me was true.” I cleared my throat. “Which you already admitted.”

“I didn’t come here to take you back or to reconcile. I do love you, Evey. I’m just not sure where we go from here in light of...everything really. We can’t go right back to where we left off. We’re not the same people. So much has changed. That doesn’t mean we can’t get there eventually. This isn’t the end for us. I promise.”

----------------------

His words sunk in me like a weight I couldn’t lift.

For all the holding, I suddenly felt very alone. He was right, of course. I mean, what was I expecting? I suppose...there was this part of me that held on to what had been. But “We’re not the same people. So much has changed…” He was right.

I wasn’t the strong one. I was fighting, but it was him now who had the most strength.

I believed his promise. I forced myself and believed it. All the voices inside of me repeated what I had learned ...promises are just good intentions...and good intentions are lies we tell ourselves to not feel guilty. But I needed to believe him. And god I wanted to. But the warmth I thought I’d carried...the hope...felt like it was sinking and taking me with it. And I wanted so badly to stay above that flood...I had only just tasted air, I can’t drown now…

I didn’t feel anything that night. Which is why I wanted it to end.

Now...I felt everything. Which is why I was so afraid it would.

“I understand.” ...hollow.

but… he loves me. Listen he said it. He said it.

“You love me?” ...words to my greatest fear. You have to believe him.

I wanted so badly to just feel warm again. The shivering wasn’t because I was cold. “I have never felt this close to losing everything even in all the time I was gone.” Reality was intruding like a violent wind. “I never expected you to wait. I didn’t expect...anything. I hoped. I mean,” my voice betrayed what my body was certainly already making clear, “I hoped. I believe you. I’m trying so hard to believe you. I just...I don’t know how to fix any of this. And I’m so sorry I ruined it.” Still shaking, I reached up, lifted the rings from around my neck and peeled open his hand after holding it so tightly. I dropped them in his hand. “I don’t know if I should still have these.” I bit back tears I didn’t want to have, “I still want them. I have always wanted them. There was never a ‘no’...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” and there were my tears again. Why couldn’t I just be? Why did I have to be so stupid and difficult? “But I shouldn’t have them unless...no, until the offer is still there. It’s not the end, I know. But I can’t hold you to something that isn’t the same offer. My answer was ‘yes’. It would still be ‘yes’. But...it’s not fair for me to pretend the question still stands.”

I was going to throw up.

-----------------

“Evey, let me tell you a story. Humor me.” I set the rings aside and focused on her. She was already pulling away, but I wasn't ready to let her go. Not by a long shot. I shifted until her back was against my chest. My arms around her to let her know I was there, but not so tight that she was trapped.

“Once upon a time a few years ago, a girl became a boy's whole world. He was too naive to wonder if she wanted marriage and a family. He was going through stages he should have hit in high school. Everything was new to him. It was kinda new to her, too. They were a little backward,” I grinned as I rested my cheek against her hair.

“At least they were together. That was probably more than a lot of people had. He worried that he was supposed to get down on one knee and propose, but he wasn't sure. They were making up their own steps up as they went along. Moving in together made logical sense and felt like a really good idea. So they did.”

I wasn't sure if she could “hear” what I was trying to say. “We never did the things we were supposed to in the order they were supposed to be in, Evelin. This isn't that much different. We are not like anyone else. Just like we did back then, we’ll make up our own steps, ok? Our own music. Our own dance. You just need some time to figure things out. To learn who Evey is now.”

----------------

“This isn't that much different. We are not like anyone else.”

His chest felt solid against me as he held my weight. After everything had finally fallen out of me, he held me up. I was less than I was before, but more than I think I ever was...and that didn't need to make sense to anyone but me. And it did.

I let my weight fall into him. He was calmer just as I was. Everything was out there now. Nothing hidden. No pretense. No assumption. And, I think, it felt like we didn't...maybe we didn't need each other.

“...we’ll make up our own steps, ok? Our own music. Our own dance.”

Maybe we didn't need each other anymore, but maybe for once we could just want each other.

“I'm not sure where to start,” I said, softly as I let my hand slip into his. “I've said everything I -” I bit my lip, considering my words carefully, and graciously, still holding my hand, he said, “I'm listening.” “I think I've said, I mean everything is out there now. You know everything,” I continued still cautiously thinking through each word as his finger traced along my arm. “We made up our own steps before because neither of us had ever done any of this before. I'd never been in love before either.” I could feel his quiet smile as his cheek rested against me. “Yeah, I do need to figure some things out. I have some things to work out that I don't expect you -or Clea, or Jonathan, or anyone else- to fix. But I feel just like...by just saying that out loud I feel like I'm already starting to do that. I'm not hiding from that part of me anymore.”

He didn't say anything to that. He just sat there holding on, not letting me go, just letting me rest in him.

“This house isn't ‘home’ for me,” I said, sort of just thinking aloud at this point. “But Jonathan’s giving me time to figure all that out. I'm in no rush. For once. And honestly, that's such a strange place to be. I've always felt like I had to have a plan - or an escape. And for once I don't. And that's honestly the calmest certainty I've had in my life - apart from our time together, apart from you. So, I'm with you; I don't know what order we do anything in.”

I looked up at him, he seemed content with that answer. I smiled and answered his silence, “Yeah. Exactly.”

He'd given me everything I needed to trust him. Then and now. I twisted myself until I was resting against him with my cheek against his chest and my nose nestled just under his neck. The safest place. The calmest place. I didn't need to slow my breathing at this point. It just did. “I know what I want. I want this. I have always wanted this,” I shook my head slightly at my own words. “I just didn't know how,” I smiled slightly, for the first time since everything transpired, “and I am probably...no, I am certainly...backwards. But...if you still want to make up the steps as we go along, I would be grateful for the chance to try.”

-----------------

“ I mean everything is out there now. You know everything.”

I didn’t though. Not really. I had no idea what it was in her past that drove her to this dark place. That drove her to run from everything and everyone all the time. I mean she was acknowledging that there was a problem and that she was ready to deal with it. I was all for that and would support her in any way I could.

Now wasn’t the time or the place to push her on it or probe any deeper. I wasn’t a religious person by any means. No real experience with organized religion, but it seemed if anything right now was a perfect time for this at least. I closed my eyes and mentally repeated lines I’d heard more than a few times.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And wisdom to know the difference.

“Nothing wrong with second, third or fourth chances, Evey. Maybe you need some of your own stuff to make this place seem more...comfortable? Your bosses let me stay for way longer than they should have. We packed up all your stuff you left behind and moved it into a storage place. They’re paying for it. I’m sure they’d be happy to hear from you. Send some of your things even.”

I lightly stroked her back in time with her breathing. Slow and steady. “I was gonna suggest I return George to you, but I think I heard a dog? Not sure how happy he’d be with one living here. He and I moved back into my old place.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. “I come down here from time to time with work now. So if you need anything dropped off, I can do it. No problem.”

---------------------

“That’s Sully, Mio’s dog.” I hadn’t heard him in a while, Jonathan must have taken him out for a walk. I appreciated the privacy. “I’m glad George is with you. I think he should stay with you. I don’t have anything permanent yet myself - and he’s probably at home with you.” I was thinking through my options - something I hadn’t done much of until recently because I hadn’t had any to think through, or at least, I hadn’t given myself any.

“I think what’s best for me at this point is to be nearer to people I know. Who know me - even if it’s been a while. People I trust,” I said, looking up and catching his eye. “I have work here I can keep up until I figure things out, but I’m going to reach out to Ken and Tony and see if any of the apartments they have are available. If they have my things, I know they’ll be glad I finally reached out.” Unfortunately I think they were almost used to me popping in and out like this...at least I didn’t have many things to store. “They’ve made it clear I always have a place to stay with them - and work. So, I’m not really worried about my options. At this point it’s just figuring out what I actually want and when…” I trailed off in thought. I knew what I wanted. My fears at this point were how welcome I’d be back in Bon Temps. Just because people care for you doesn’t mean they necessarily are ready to have you around more. I knew that as well as anyone else. I’ve loved people who I couldn’t stand to have around.

“I’m going to discuss it with Jonathan. I’ve appreciated his advice since being here - he’s objective. That’s so helpful. But I need to be ‘home’, and...I haven’t had that since, well, a long time.” He sighed and I couldn’t tell if he was growing tired, just relaxed, or if there was anything else there behind it. “Darius, you made it clear we have time. I have time, I mean...us. That there’s a chance. But…” I tried reading him. It’d been so long. It was hard to tell how he was responding to me. And he was right, he was a different man. My brain and heart were in a struggle over wanting to know what he wanted from all of this...and not wanting to push out of my own selfishness. I had so much to learn. “What I’m getting at is...what do you want? I’m not looking for something in stone. I don’t mean it like that. I just want to be clear so I’m not pushing you or in the way...if I did come back.”

-------------------------

What was Mio’s dog doing here?

“George has only recently stopped looking for you. But he’s welcome to stay with me until you’re ready for him.” I wasn’t sure what I expected when I drove here. Not after talking to Garett. I guess I knew...or at least hoped she’d eventually come back to Bon Temps. If she didn’t say goodbye for good and leave all of us behind one last time. I never really thought about when this would happen. I didn’t think when I came here actually. I just drove.

What do you want?

What did I want? “What do I want? That’s a really good question. I’m not sure I have an answer. At least not a clear cut one. I want you to get healthier. Physically,” I took her hand and placed it on her side where I could feel her ribs, “and emotionally. I’m not sure what that looks like or means or how. But that’s what I want most of all.” My thoughts were a bit of a jumble in my head.

“I’m not ready to live together again. Not yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to come back to Bon Temps. I just think we both kinda need to have our own space while we start figuring things out together.”

If this was going to work between us, I needed to be perfectly honest with her. With myself. Not sugar coat things or tell her what I thought she needed to hear. “It’s not if you come back, Evey. It’s when. You do need to be around people who know you and care about you. I’m not sure you’ll ever feel….not alone...until you do. I figure it might be why you’re here with this guy Jonathan and not at your own place.”

I reached for the rings and turned them over in my hand above her lap. “Maybe….maybe you should keep these. Wear them on the ribbon. Kinda like a reminder that I’m still here. Something physical you can touch and see if you need to, and I’m not around. Even when you move back, I still have responsibilities down here. Clea has family down here. So one or both of us might not always be around.” She seemed to think about that, but made no move to touch the rings. “Please? It would make me feel better knowing you still have them.”

---------------------------

He understood - thankfully - that I needed to be near people who cared, but that I needed to figure some things out for myself. We'd made our own steps before - and this was one we needed, both needed, now.

Breathe

I took the rings from his hand, they were warm just from his holding them a moment. I wish I knew what this step was, but whatever it was, I wasn’t ready for it. Not like this. He wanted me to have them. To remember him when he wasn’t around. Something to hold on to when I didn't have him or Clea, and I understood what he meant, but I wondered if he knew the memories I attached to them. I don't think I could ever see them as anything less than what he had offered them to be from the beginning. And wearing them that way now felt like less. I didn't want them as just a reminder of him.

“I have never not wanted these, Darius,” I said as I placed them back in his hand and closed his hand around them. “And I will want them - still want them - again.” A part of me couldn't believe what I was doing in the moment, but a larger part of me knew it was what I wanted. “But I don't want to wear them around my neck as a reminder of you. They could never be less than what they were to me and that's how that would feel. I haven't worn them on my hand because I had never given you the benefit of a real answer. I have been wearing them as a touchstone to you - to us - but I’ve just been walking around with a question hanging from my neck and I don't want feel that way any longer,” I paused, trying to read him...but I couldn't. “And I can't lie and pretend that's not how you didn't walk around for a long time after I left. And I'm sorry - I will always be sorry for that.” He still had his hand against my back, still stroking, softly...I took that as a good sign. At least, I needed to. “But I don't want our rings back until you - and if you - want me to wear them as you did the day you first offered them to me. I'm taking a chance I may not get them back. I know that. But I don't want them any less than how you intended them for us. And I’m leaving that to you, on your terms, your time.”

I let out a long breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding in. He was right. I needed to be in a healthier place. I was starting towards it. And I didn't want us in some sort of limbo while we both waited for whatever that would look like. I needed to get to know him as the man he is today. And I needed to get to know myself. We needed to learn one another again.

“Please understand I'm not saying no to you. I'm trying to say ‘yes’...I want to say ‘yes’, but I want us to have a fresh start. I'm giving myself that. That's all I'm asking for right now from you. I love you. I still feel completely bound to you; I can't undo that. I am praying my saying all this doesn't push you away - if anything I hope it lets you know I'm taking you being here, right now, very seriously,” I leaned back against his chest again, listening for his heartbeat to see if I could gather if he was as calm on the inside as he was letting me read he was on the outside. But I couldn't tell. His warmth was enough for now and I rubbed my cheek against him. I'd take what I could get - I deeply loved him. I knew that more than anything now. I wasn't going to screw this up again. Not for either of us. I just hoped I wasn't going to lose whatever this was now.

We both deserved to love one another as deeply as we wanted to - without any sense of obligation to whatever we had once been. I loved him - us - too much for either of us to settle for less.

How strange it is when you start to realize you have value despite what you believed...and that because you do, you don't want to burden anyone with the need to affirm your worth. You only want to share their love.

That's what I wanted from him. To share his love, his life, all of it. If he offered it - in time - I wanted it. But I wasn't going to force the offer or let him think I expected it regardless of everything that transpired. And I definitely wasn't going to let it stay on the table between us.