#but I will continue to argue that he's a poor fit for Rock

[raposarealm]

Watched through the Exe presentation during the Tokyo Game Show this year, and yeah, online battles and all are cool as hell, but

I forgot how Rock’s English VA (Andrew Francis) sounds. 

And no disrespect to Francis, but.

I am in pain.

[neocityjs]

Clingy - LJN

Pairing: boyfriend!jeno x reader

Genre: a lil angst, fluff

Warnings: established relationship, Haechan is a bit annoying in this one I’m sorry (Haechan best boy)

Words: 3k

Summary: hurt after hearing your boyfriend and his friends calling you clingy, you decide to show them how not clingy you can be.

A/N: everything is fictional, including the characters’ traits. English is not my first language, therefore I’m sorry for the errors.

Movie nights with your friends were your favorites.

Well, it’d be more correct for me to say “with your boyfriend’s friends”, since you didn’t know them before meeting Jeno. But that doesn’t matter, because in no time you managed to bond with everyone, especially the clumsy yet adorable kid, Jisung, and the loving caffeine addicted boy, Jaemin.

Movie nights with your friends consisted in you eight – even though today you were only seven since Mark was out with some of his friends – sprawled on one couch –  don’t ask me how, but all of you always manage to fit in since no one wants to sit on the carpet – with a blanket covering you and some snacks passing between. Those represented some of those moments you swear you would cherish for all your life.

Tonight seemed to be no different. Jeno had come picking you up at 7 p.m., you spent some time together, walking around, talking and giggling like usual, and you dropped at his house where other five – well, four boys (Jaemin lost to rock paper scissors so he had to go shopping for snacks) – were waiting for the both of you. Donghyuck always got to choose the movie you would watch, not without complaints from every one of you, yet at the end you’d always like what he picks, but Donghyuck doesn’t need to know that.

And there you were, all sprawled on the couch – though not in a very comfortable position –. You had already seen the movie which was playing loudly on the TV, hence you decided to pay more attention to your boyfriend instead. You were all cuddled up with him: he was hugging you, stroking your back from time to time. Your head was on his shoulder while your hand rested on his chest. Sometimes you couldn’t help but leave a furtive and quick kiss on his jaw, praying no one would notice you. He’d smile at you – gosh his eye smile UWU – and then he’d hug you closer.

About one hour after the movie’s beginning, you felt some physical needs pressing, so you quickly excused yourself and got up from the couch.

“Should I pause it?” Renjun asked, the remote already between his hands.

“No, don’t worry. I’ve already seen it anyway”

You made your way to the bathroom only to find out that the toilet paper was missing.

You sighed. Boys.

So you went back to the living room, where everyone was gathered.

You were about to open your mouth to ask where they kept the spare paper but something odd caught your ear. You backed up, hiding behind the wall. You obviously knew that eavesdropping was not by any means honest, especially if it was a conversation between your best friends. But you were almost certain that they were talking about you, your name dropping from one of the boys’ mouth.

“Enjoy being free while you can” Donghyuck joked with Jeno. You furrowed your brows.

What was that supposed to mean? You peeked your head cautiously, not wanting to be seen.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend” Jisung laughed at him, to which the boy responded with a sharp stare.

“Seriously, Jisung? When you haven’t even had your first kiss?”

“Ya ya ya! Shut up and don’t fight you two” Jaemin intervened, throwing a popcorn at them.

A brief moment of silence followed. You still didn’t understand what they were talking about.

“She’s just affectionate, that’s all” Jeno finally spoke, at which you held your breath.

So they were talking about you being clingy with your boyfriend. And this response from Jeno meant that he didn’t mind it, right? Or else he would have agreed with the boy. The thing is, you never thought about it: you supposed that a little kiss every now and then was a way to show your love and affection to him, plus he never complained about it, or never backed away.

“I know, but don’t tell me you don’t find this suffocating sometimes” Donghyuck continued.

Okay, now he was seriously getting on your nerves. What the heck did he care if you were clingy with your boyfriend? This was something between you and Jeno, and he wasn’t allowed to interfere with it, especially in front of everyone in the room. You thought he was making fun of you by now.

At this point you expected something to come out of Jeno’s mouth, anything that could have proven Donghyuck wrong, but he said nothing.

And silence means consent.

How did you know this? Well, Jeno wasn’t one to back out from speaking his opinion, especially with his friends. Especially with Donghyuck, for God’s sake, this guy was constantly bickering – though not with malicious intentions – with everyone.

“We shouldn’t talk behind her back like this” affirmed Jaemin with a severe stare. Jeno looked down: you didn’t know it but he was feeling suddenly guilty, agreeing with Jaemin. Everyone then went silent, the only sounds that could be heard being the dialogues in the movie.

You pressed your back against the wall, processing what you just heard.

Why didn’t he ever tell you? Why did he act like he loved it while, actually, he hated it? Then you thought about every time you held his hand in public, or hugged him, or kissed him, and then your thoughts went to five minutes before, when you were hugging him on the couch. You started feeling sorry.

Maybe after all it’s true, and he didn’t tell me anything because he didn’t want to hurt me.

But well, now it hurt twice as much since you weren’t aware of what your friends and your own boyfriend thought about you. Maybe every one of them, except for Jeno obviously, thanked God they hadn’t a girlfriend like you, who was suffocating and clingy.

And it was at this moment that your guilt turned into anger.

You just wanted to show all your affection and care to your boyfriend who you loved with all your heart, but apparently you were only bothering him. And Donghyuck - oh Donghyuck – you were so angry at him right now. What was the point in making fun of you in front of everyone when you weren’t even there? At the same time, you took a mental note to thank Jisung and Jaemin, the only two people who stood to defend you.

Okay, tonight you were proving everyone how not clingy you could be. Indeed, you were going to interact the least possible with Jeno. He wanted space? Good, you were giving him tons of it.

You eventually went to the toilet using one of your tissues since you were not asking any of them where the hell was the toilet paper, you washed your hands and went back to the couch.

But this time you didn’t hug Jeno. You simply forced a smile and sat next to him with your arms crossed. You tried not to be too obvious, you still didn’t want them to know that you heard everything, but you were sure your face was saying otherwise, and the confirmation arrived when Jeno asked you “Is everything ok?” full of concern.

You just called me clingy and let Donghyuck make fun of me. Yes, everything’s amazing.

“Yes, of course. Why?” you replied, using all of your acting skills in the process which, by the way, were very poor. But apparently they worked, because Jeno smiled at you and shook his head. “Nothing”.

But if you were successful at lying to him right now, then by the end of the movie he understood that something was wrong. You were avoiding all of his attempts of skin ship because “it was too hot”, but then you were grasping at the blanket like there’s no tomorrow. You were also laughing at everything remotely funny that came out of Jaemin’s mouth while you simply ignored all of Jeno’s attempts of making you laugh. Hell, you didn’t even argue with Donghyuck when he murmured something about Jeno being the most unfunny guy he ever met. Oh and you were playing and laughing with Jisung who was sitting next to you.

In short, you were avoiding him.

But he decided to shrug these thoughts away. Maybe he was being paranoid, he thought: you were just enjoying your friends’ company, plus it wasn’t written anywhere that you were allowed to talk and give attentions only to him.

Little did he know, this was just what you were trying to do: shower everyone with attentions except him.

Eventually the movie came to an end, and while everyone was pronouncing their goodnights and heading to sleep, you just remained there, with your phone between your hands, scrolling mindlessly on your Instagram feed.

Usually you and Jeno would have gone to bed together, sharing your thoughts about the movie you just watched, or simply talking about everything and nothing at the same time. But not today. He wanted space? You were giving him space.

Jeno already stood up to make his departure, but soon noticed you weren’t following him like you always did. “Are you coming?” he asked you, stopping on his tracks.

“I’ll just reply to a few messages and then I’ll go to sleep too. Don’t wait for me, you can go”

“Y/N are you sure everything’s okay? You’ve been acting quite weird. Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Of course not, Jeno. Nothing happened” you replied rather coldly. Then you sighed. “I’m good, don’t worry for me” you added, softly this time. Although you believed he deserved it, you didn’t want to be too rude to him.

He nodded, and without saying anything more, he left.

At this point you started feeling a tiny bit guilty, still you couldn’t simply pretend nothing happened: their words hurt you and even if you really wished to just forget everything, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t, it was stronger than you.

By the way, you had no intention of sleeping with Jeno tonight, so you grabbed the blanket all of you once shared when watching the movie, and struggled a little bit to find a comfortable position. Eventually, after some tears escaped from your eyes, you drifted into a restless sleep.

It took a couple of hours for Jeno to realize you were not in bed with him.

He just fell asleep, a part of him believing that later you would have joined him. But when he woke up, he immediately sensed that something was off. Still sleepy, he touched the other side of the bed only to find it empty, and immediately stood up. It was 3 A.M, why weren’t you sleeping? What the heck were you doing? Did someone kidnap you? At this point he was surprised of how paranoid he could be.

His thoughts came to an end when he saw you, on the couch, with a blanket shielding you from the cold, all curled up. He didn’t see the dried tears that stained your face, though.

Sitting slowly beside you, not wanting to scare you, he gently shook you, not sure himself if it was the right thing to do. He was just so confused, he genuinely didn’t have any idea of what was happening. But he knew one thing for sure: you had been acting cold with him and he wouldn’t had moved until you confessed what was going on. Was it something he said or did? Was today your anniversary or something and he forgot it? Poor boy absolutely couldn’t find peace unless he knew what he did.

Soon you opened your eyes, still heavy from the – lack of – sleep.

“Hey” he murmured softly.

You considered pretending to sleep but nah, as I said earlier, you weren’t a good actress.

“Hey” you replied, stretching your limbs a little bit.

“I got worried since you weren’t sleeping next to me” he chuckled awkwardly. Sure thing, he didn’t know how to handle this situation since this was the first time you were acting like this.

“I… umm… I just fell asleep here” you replied looking at your hands, which you were scratching due to the nervousness.

Another lie.

Then silence.

“Y/N look at me” his voice suddenly changed, turning colder.

You swallowed, a knot forming again in your throat, as you forced back the tears that were trying to escape. You didn’t want to give in so soon.

But how could you, when he was getting angry at you? You should have been angry, not the opposite. And you know what? He was right, you were taking it too far. He didn’t deserve this. Look at how nice he tried to be all night, you managed to anger a calm and patient man like him. How stupid could you be at this point?

With a quivering lip you turned your head, facing him. He was watching you intently, with a serious frown on his face. Your grip on the blanket got tighter, almost ripping it with your nails.

You stayed silent. Then he spoke.

“Why are you being like this?”

You swallowed. What should you say? Were you even allowed to say anything at this point?

You tried to open your mouth to say something, but as soon as you tried your eyes were filled with tears, rapidly falling on your skin. You just couldn’t take it anymore, so you just faced away and buried your face in the pillow, trying to muffle your sobs. You didn’t want to look so pathetic in his eyes, although by now you thought you were being beyond pathetic.

If earlier there was any anger in Jeno, now every hint of it dissipated at the sight of you crying, curled up on the couch. He suddenly felt guilt taking over him. But the amount of confusion and frustration was bigger, so, as much as it pained him to see you cry because of him, this didn’t prevent him from trying to find out what had gotten into you. He was honestly so tired, he just wanted to sleep with you on his side.

He gently, almost scared, touched your trembling frame, and when he noticed there was no sign of rebellion from you, he lied down and hugged you tightly from behind.

And you kept on crying silently, a loud sob escaping occasionally, as he murmured sweet nothings into your ears, shushing you gently and telling you that everything’s fine, I’m here with you. Just let it out.

When you finally finished crying, he placed a soft kiss on your neck, then another on your wet cheek.

“Wanna talk about it?”

There was no point in lying by now. So you faced him, face full of concern and arms still tightly secured around you. And you just let out everything, from how you overheard their conversation – including how sorry you were for doing it and promising it would never happen again -, to how you were hurt by Donghyuck’s words but mostly by Jeno’s lack of words.

On the other hand, poor Jeno didn’t have any idea this could have affected you so much, and because of this he didn’t even think this could have been the cause of your sudden behavior. He just listened everything silently, surprised, just like a kid to whom the newest things are explained.

“I just got so angry at you for not defending me, and for letting Hyuck make fun of me. So I wanted to distance myself from you as much as possible to have my revenge” you openly confessed, hiding your face in his chest.

“I’m really sorry I took this so far. I should have talked instead” you add.

“Well, that’s true” Jeno replied, “but I can’t say I’m in the right either. First thing, we shouldn’t have talked about you like that, plus I’m really sorry I didn’t say anything to Hyuck, I understand this hurt you a lot”

“But do you really think I’m that clingy? Because if so, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll try to respect you space more” you asked, looking up at him with watery eyes.

And if your ears were sharp enough, you could have heard the sound of Jeno’s heart shattering.

Now he was the one who was on the verge of tears.

“Y/N please don’t ever say such a thing. You don’t have to change anything about yourself. I love you because you are you, including your touchy and loving nature. Besides, don’t look at me this way or I’m seriously gonna cry” he added whining, causing a smile – a real one – to appear on your face.

“Now it’s a lot better” he affirmed, tracing your curled up lips with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you or you’re still mad at me?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I was thinking about making you suffer a little more” you joked.

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable”

“I think so too”

He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I should kiss that annoying attitude of yours away”

“I don’t know, should you?”

“I’ll take that as a yes”

And with that he kissed you, the fight of moments ago long forgotten. A slow and gentle kiss, a mixture of emotions being shown: remorse, love, affection. It was a way for the both of you to say “it’s all in the past now”.

After you parted, one thought snapped in his mind.

“Wait, how will you manage the matter with Donghyuck? I can talk to him if you want” he pointed out, concerned. He perfectly understood if you were angry at the boy in question, but he also wished all of you to be as bonded as a big family, his family.

“There’s no need, I’ll just confront him by myself, beat him up until he asks for forgiveness and then forgive and hug him”

Jeno looked at you, almost scared. “What…?”

“Just kidding” you said, laughing at his funny face. Still hugging, you made yourselves comfortable enough to sleep.

“Or maybe not”

[bubblegumbeech]

The Losing Move

Day two Ectoberhaunt:  Scream vs Laugh

AO3

It started with a scream. That’s how Clockwork knew it was finally time. 

He hesitated, of course. There was so much to lose, so much still uncertain, paths branching in different directions, moments shrouded imperfectly from his view, strings of fate tangled and misused. But he was the Master of Time. He could hesitate and no one would ever know. 

Not even them. 

Clockwork made a portal, leaving his Clocktower and walking towards a tall grey rock almost as old as time itself, weathered by age and nothing like the statue it had once been standing proud in a garden of overgrown thorns and long dead leaves. Nocturn appeared next to him, a swirl of inky black void scattered with stars and nebulae. 

“Did you hesitate?” he asked. 

It was a valid question. An important one too, if they were to succeed. Clockwork’s hesitation could lead to an uncertain future, to a failure in their plot. And then they would be lost, set back hundreds of thousands of years again. 

“No.”

Nocturn accepted his answer. Perhaps he knew that Clockwork was lying, perhaps he did not. Either way, they both turned to the stone. 

It wasn’t long before the others appeared. 

Misery Vex was the first, then Sojourn, on and on until they all stood, surrounding the stone. 

Misery turned to Clockwork. “Did it take?” she asked, and he flew forward, taking off one of his gloves to run his hand along the smoothed side of the rock. It hummed, an energy unlike any else, unique to here yet everywhere and nowhere at all. Very chaotic indeed. 

“It has.”

She hummed an affirmative, linking her hand in his before reaching out to take Sojourn’s. Clockwork reached for Nocturn and as they all linked together they formed a shield, thick and impenetrable between their varied talents, around the stone. 

“How long will this take,” Vortex said, ever the impatient one. He was jittery, yellow cords of lightning constantly jumping all over him in a nervous jumble, branching in and out of each other like writhing snakes. 

Clockwork sighed. “Not long.”

“You musn’t get too close,” Misery warned.

“I know.”

“You musn’t go too far,” Nocturn reminded him. 

He knew that too. 

“You’ve failed before,” Misery said, her voice steady and calm. She was not wrong, nor accusatory. He had faltered, it had led to a less than ideal outcome. He would not admit this. 

Clockwork didn’t allow any emotion on his face. “The threat is contained. My faults did not lead to the failure of our mission.”

She scoffed. “No, only to ‘inconvenience’. Right?”

As far as she knew. As far as any of them did. They relied on him, to determine if their future would be a success. He was the only one who could see which path to take, what choices would lead to their victory. He was the only one who knew just how thin the chance was, how precarious the choice. It would not benefit them to know. He did not need their doubt.

“Who was it?” Sojourn asked, referring to the scream that had summoned them here. The scream that had echoed hauntingly throughout the entirety of the Infinite Realms. 

Clockwork hadn’t looked. He looked now. 

“A boy, fourteen years old, between child and adult, between living and dead, between here and there.” 

Nocturn smiled, “How fitting.”

The stone shattered. Power and chaos, magic and will swirled around in a tornado, beating against the solid weight of their shield and making what was once so obviously strong seem weak and pitiful in comparison. 

Vortex’s eyes glowed in excitement. It was a sign, they all knew, that things were getting close. 

Eventually the storm faded and all that was left was a weathered pile of ash and rubble where there had once been a stone, where there had once been a statue, where there had once been nothing at all. 

It would come to nothing once more. 

Soon.

  The Infinite Realms had been lifeless for so long. Nothing more than ambient ectoplasm and void. A place. Nothing more and nothing less than it had to be. Many of the denizens had never seen them alive, existing as they once had. The panic was only natural. The frenzy, exciting and new. The heart of it all beating again. 

There was one ghost in particular, of course, who had only known the realms as they existed now. Sure there might also be others, newly made and newly dead, but this one was the important one. He’d been the one to give his life for the life around them now. 

Or at least, he’d given half of it. 

The Observants, of course, were furious. 

They had attempted to hunt down the Ancients, knowing it was they who had done this, who had planned this and then hidden it from the view of those who watch. Vortex had been taken first, as expected, and Undergrowth had fled to the mortal realm. The others also split, the time for them to come together was over; the time to prepare for the end was nearing. 

Clockwork, of course, their ever loyal subservient pet that could not leave his tower without their knowledge, that could not use his power without their permission, he’d never been looked at twice.

“You told us the threat was neutralized.” Nocturn said, sliding up next to one of Clockwork’s monitors. He watched a scene, where Daniel and Pariah fought. It was not a real fight, of course. Pariah had long shed the haze of bloodlust that had driven him mad, and was now attempting to be endearing, to rebuild a trust Clockwork had never actually had in him. 

Clockwork took a sip of his tea. It was made from some of Pariah’s newly grown coraleander leaves and made a thick, murky green tea that Clockwork quite enjoyed the taste and texture of. Unfortunately that was exactly why Pariah had grown them, and while Clockwork had snuck them away like a petty thief, he doubted that the missing leaves had gone even a moment unnoticed. 

It was infuriating and Clockwork sipped at it slowly, savoring it’s warmth.

“He is no longer the King. In fact, there is no King at all, just as I said it would be.”

Nocturn turned to meet his eyes, tilting his head just slightly in suspicion. “Yes, you did. Though I suppose the others thought you meant he would not escape his sleep. Or at least, that he would not escape his sleep until after .”

Clockwork looked away, towards the monitor. Pariah had soundly defeated Daniel and was laughing. Likely at the way the poor boy looked, his hair a mess and covered in the very coraleander leaves Clockwork was drinking. He’d need to wash them off before he transformed back into a human. While they wouldn’t be immediately deadly to a Half-Ghost, they would form a large, hard to explain, rash. 

“That wasn’t what I said though, was it?” Clockwork met Nocturn’s eyes once more. 

The other ghost just snorted and shook his head. “No, no I guess it wasn’t. Clockwork, the tightrope you’re walking, that future you see that you haven’t told us about? I really hope you get it. I do. Because the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows and I can’t imagine what would happen if you missed.”

Clockwork’s tea had gone cold. He continued to sip it. He ignored Nocturn’s words and he watched the screen as Pariah helped Daniel stand, only for Daniel to tackle him when he wasn’t expecting it. 

“I’ll take that under consideration.” 

It was becoming habit, he found, to lie to Nocturn. 

  Daniel was at the Clocktower, eating a plate of cookies and complaining about some of the varied ghosts he had to deal with and fight on a regular basis in his mortal realm. It was a side effect, of course, of Phantom’s new role as the Heart of The Infinite Realms. The smaller, weaker ghosts, especially younger and newly dead ones, had attempted to flee the Realms when they noticed the sudden changes. 

When the Observants had become so busy trying to find the cause of the change, so busy trying to hunt down what was left of Chaos’ children, that they could no longer micro-manage the state of the Realms. Could no longer constantly overstep their authority and keep their tasteless ‘Order’. 

The Realms had become more and more lively and Clockwork had found himself in a perpetual good mood. He took a cookie for himself. Nocturn caught him baking the other day; his expression had been dry as he congratulated Clockwork on his adoption. It was  a pointed accusation. 

He had shoved it to the back of his mind and decided to make some forgoent tea to go with the cookies. He hadn’t offered any to Nocturn. 

Daniel paused in his musings for a moment before speaking again, his voice careful. “I’ve been visiting Pariah.”

Clockwork hummed, not looking away from his screens. “I am aware.”

“Of course you are.” Daniel rolled his eyes. Then he sighed like he didn't know how to bring up what he was going to say next. “Did you… Did you know he was going to get free if you sent me after that key?” 

Ah, so he’d figured it out then. “It was a possibility. Each and every choice you make creates an entirely new future with entirely new consequences.” 

“He doesn’t seem all that bad…” Daniel argued, as if Clockwork was going to disagree with him. Clockwork raised an eyebrow, the one with the scar Pariah had given him, and looked over to him. “I mean, he just. When he first woke up he was really mad right? But like, I’d also be really mad if I finally woke up from a forced coma only to have Vlad there.”

Anyone would really. 

“And even though he sucked Amity Park into the Ghost Zone, no one actually ended up getting hurt. At least, no more than usual in a ghost attack. And I’ve been talking with the other ghosts that have been ‘Challenging’ him and they all say he's a pretty cool teacher… Like, he knows how to fight and he’s good at showing them how they can use their unique powers-”

Clockwork didn’t interrupt Daniel as he rambled. It was rare, at least since he’d been deposed, to hear lists of Pariah’s more positive aspects. It wasn’t uncomfortable so much as mildly frustrating. Was this part of Pariah’s ploy? Get Daniel to fall all over himself to recite poetics about Pariah to Clockwork. He should have learned by now that whatever affection he might hold for him, it would not be enough. Not to stop his plans, and certainly not to stop the others.

“So uh, you know, he seems… chiller. Without the crown and ring and stuff.”

“Yes, it was the Ring of Rage Daniel, what did you think it was used for?” 

There was a small imperceptible shift in Daniel’s expression, as if he’d realized something and made the choice to file the knowledge away for later. He must have learned that from Pariah as well. “So, if there’s things that can change even powerful ghosts like Pariah, are there things that could change, say… one of the Ancients?”

Was Daniel befriending another Ancient? Clockwork smiled, that was good then. He could hold that against them, the weight of his failure to keep an emotional distance wouldn’t be as stark, if another Ancient or two fell just as easily to Daniel’s pleasant company. He could use that, he simply had to find out which of them it was. Perhaps Sojourn? He was always soft for children, but Clockwork hadn’t been aware of him returning to the Barrens lately, and Daniel rarely went any further than the Time Locked Lands or the Far Frozen. 

“It is good to befriend others Daniel,” he says halfheartedly, searching through his mirrors to locate Sojourn, “but remember not to trust too easily. You never know the goals of those around you, if they might be using you towards their own ends.”

“Of course,” Daniel replied, his voice hard. 

Clockwork looked over to him, he was staring at the dregs of his tea, expression dark. 

“Would you like more tea?” Clockwork offered, wondering what had plummeted the boy’s attitude so suddenly. 

Daniel looked up, a small smile on his lips, “Yes Please.”

Clockwork left to make more, his mind still trying to find which Ancient Daniel had befriended. 

  “The Observants are completely ignorant of your machinations,” Pariah said as Clockwork entered his study. “Of course, they don’t know you as well as they think.”

Clockwork should stop visiting him. Should never have started, a fact that Nocturn was only too happy to remind him of. Sometimes Clockwork wondered if Nocturn got his taste of Chaos from Clockwork's mistakes, he seemed so dedicated to reveling in them. 

“I didn’t come here to talk about the Observants. I have my fill without the need to remark upon them when absent from their presence.” Clockwork was scowling. He could hide his irritation, but despite his lies and trickery he was hardly an accomplished actor. 

Pariah chuckled, flipping another page in the thick book he’d been reading. The title was faded, but Clockwork recognized it easily enough. It was a detailed history of the Infinite Realms after King Dark had been sealed away. It was a long history, though not as long as the history that came before his reign entirely. 

It was also the exact kind of thing Pariah would read cover to cover, like the obsessive monster he was. 

“I suppose you came to warn me away from your ward then?” Pariah asked, his voice casual. Clockwork scoffed, allowing a roll of his eyes before floating over to Pariah’s shelves and grabbing one of the books that looked recently used. It was about old soul binding rituals, much like what had happened to Fright Knight. It was amusing, the thought that Pariah’s oldest friend might still be whining about his little curse. 

“Hardly,” Clockwork said, idly flipping through the pages, “if I could control Daniel I never would have let him near you to begin with.”

Pariah smiled, placing his own book down. “Yes, I imagine you wouldn’t have. It would be a mistake to let me get close to him and realize he is the reason the Infinite Realms have started to sing.”

He’d figured it out then. Of course that wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. Unlike the Observants, Pariah was wickedly intelligent and fully capable of coming to the appropriate conclusions. “Sing? An interesting way to describe it.”

Arms encircled his waist and Clockwork was pulled back into a warm chest. Pariah’s chin rested on Clockwork’s shoulder as he spoke softly into his ear. “Is it enough? The realms feel alive, weaker ghosts are fleeing or banding together once more. It resembles the time we once had, between Chaos and Order. Will you stop here?”

“There’s nothing more I can do,” he lied. 

Pariah hummed an agreement and reached out to flip a few pages through the book Clockwork had been holding. There was a beautifully illustrated drawing of a necklace, bewitched and layered in curses. Pariah must have memorized the pages, of course. “Would you wear jewelry if I made it for you? I would see you decked in gold and finery if I could.”

Clockwork slammed the book closed, just missing Pariah’s fingers. He didn’t think about the earrings Pariah had once gifted him, or how he wore them even now, dangling hidden beneath his hood. “You should know better than to ask that.” 

He felt a smile against his neck. “Then I won’t ask.”

  He held the Thermos in his hand. 

The other Daniel was a menace, truly. But he would not be so desperate to ruin Daniel’s life anymore. It had been long enough for him to realize that his existence was no longer predicated on Daniel’s decisions, or on the loss of his family. 

It would change him, of course. The knowledge that he exists in the same time as his once family will either soften his grief, or sharpen its edges. There were so many paths he could take, and Clockwork could not see them all, did not bother to look much further than the distance he needed him for. 

There was something more important than his grief that he and Clockwork had in common. Something Daniel and Pariah likely had in common with them as well: the detestation of the Observants. 

Clockwork opened the thermos, releasing Daniel’s worst nightmare and not thinking about how the young half-ghost had given it to him so easily, had trusted him so quickly when all Clockwork had done was protect his human family one time. 

The other, once possible, Daniel appeared in an explosion of light and matter and immediately attacked, using his claws to scratch at Clockwork’s face. He was prepared for that though, years trapped in a thermos had eroded much of Dan’s more refined aspects. It would work in Clockworks favor of course, he had made sure of that.

For now, Clockwork froze time and moved behind him. That way his wild attack would meet nothing but ambient ectoplasm and Clockwork could speak his piece. Provided his piece took less than a second to speak.

He allowed time to flow and watched as the other Daniel floundered, confused, only to instantly realize just what Clockwork had done and turn around, ready to attack once more. Clockwork smiled as their eyes met and asked, “Would you like to End the Observants and their Order?”

the other Daniel attacked him, but Clockwork could see the consideration in his eyes. The thought had been implanted, now all he had to do was sit back and watch. the other Daniel had always been rather good at ruining things after all. 

“CLOCKWORK!” Daniel yelled, flying frantically into the Clocktower. “Clockwork Dan escaped somehow! He attacked Amity Park!” 

His desperate flight slowed when he saw Clockwork floating casually at his screens as he always had. He was watching a specific screen now, and pulled the image onto the largest one to share with Daniel. “Yes, I know.”

Daniel looked between him and the screen, his expression growing more and more confused. “But, he was here though. Locked up. How did he escape?”

Clockwork didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m sorry Daniel,” he lied. “Your trust in me was misplaced. He escaped while I was distracted with another matter and I was unable to stop him. It’s my fault.”

Daniel’s eyes widened, searching for something in Clockwork’s expression, and then in Clockwork’s screens. The only thing he saw though, was the other Daniel causing havoc and destruction. After visiting Amity Park and re-traumatising Daniel’s sister, the other Daniel had been driven away by Daniel, whose power had become far superior in the time since they had last met. It was only natural of course, Daniel’s existence was unique and far beyond that of Dan’s mangled pieced together form of conflicting obsessions and damaged cores. 

It was possible, Clockwork knew, for the other Daniel to stabilize properly. Perhaps he could become a proper ghost, perhaps he could stop attempting to restrict what humanity he had left. Either way, it did not matter in the end. If anything, his existence was a fun riddle that would play itself out long after Clockwork’s plans came to fruition. 

Clockwork looked over at Daniel, his expression hidden behind the shadows of his hood. The boy was staring emptily at the corner of the Clocktower that led to the inner dungeons where the other Daniel had been hidden away.  After a moment he turned away, hiding his own expression, and began to walk. As if his legs had become too heavy to fly. 

“It’s fine. I’ll get him back. It won’t happen again.” There was a promise in his voice and it softened to be almost inaudible entirely. “I won’t let it.”

After he left, Clockwork turned back to the screen with the other Daniel on it. He was finished terrorizing the ghost from before, and was now floating listlessly in the void of the Infinite Realms. Likely, he was warring with his obsessions- or his emotions- it was hard to tell which. Eventually though, he shook his head, looked up as if to catch Clockwork’s eye, and flew off.

In the direction of the Observants. 

  It’s eyeball was glaring at him, the normally dull yellow of it’s sclera bright with fury. “You were given responsibility over him! You were entrusted to keep him from destroying the Realms!”

Clockwork’s own eye twitched as he fought back an eyeroll. Those who Watch were as predictable as ever, not showing up at the moment of Dan’s release but instead at the moment he began to take his rage out on the Observants. Their responsibilities had always been superfluous though, a vague excuse to do as they pleased in the name of Order. 

“I failed. He escaped. Woe is me.” He floated over to one of his more intricate gadgets and began to tinker with it, pretending to be busy. “Surely an Order such as yours, full of powerful ghosts that command the Realms, did not come to me in fear though? He attacked you directly, does that not make your vow of inaction void?”

“ You-! ”

“Of course, it would be different if you simply couldn’t defeat him. But… he’s only a decade dead. That would be an embarrassment.”

The other Observant that had come to scold (and demand his servitude) floated in front of its companion so as to cut off a likely incensed reaction. “He’s an abomination, and an amalgamation. Surely you can understand why we wanted him dealt with before it came to this.”

Clockwork inclined his head, playing at civility. “Perhaps then, you should seek to work alongside Phantom. I have it on relatively good authority he’s also trying to deal with your resident menace.”

Both of the Observants took his suggestion as an insult, one even growing red with it. “That Abomination? He should be destroyed along with it!”

“Pity,” Clockwork said, turning back to the screens and watching as the other Daniel tore the core out of another Observant’s chest and crushed it in his palm. He wasn’t even absorbing them for their power. It was a waste, but Clockwork was certain it was a waste born of trauma. Dan’s creation had, after all, been due to a botched absorption with a powerful ghost core. “You can leave now.”

“You must deal with this.”

“I will deal with it when the time is right,” he said in lieu of an answer. 

The Observants, disgruntled and unwilling to leave, as if hiding in Clockwork’s lair would somehow protect them, made comment after comment demanding his action and threatening punishment should he fail. He replied with sarcasm and an aloof attitude that soon had them leaving out the door if only to try and do what they could to tighten his bonds. 

He sighed, there was time still. He should make cookies, that always seemed to calm him, help him to exist in the present and not become impatient for what is yet to be. He headed to the kitchen, only to see an unexpected visitor at his table. 

“Nocturn, you’re early.”

The other Ancient nodded. “Yes, your plan seems to have worked flawlessly. The Authority of the Observants has been shaken. Much of the power they had gained through fear and reputation has dwindled, but…”

Clockwork raised an eyebrow as he opened his cabinets. There was egyptian sand flour left over, it would be dryer than using something more modern, but the age would add a good aftertaste. He just needed to add extra Honey-Wasp bits from the outskirts of The Undergrowth and that should balance it. Maybe some purified ectoplasm. Pariah gifted him a jar after he had somehow managed to create a device to filter it from the Infinite Realms. 

He had also made an absolutely unsubtle offer to join him in his new ‘sauna’ that Clockwork had pointedly refused. 

“But?” he prompted, there was little information he could glean from silence. 

Nocturn watched him prepare the batter. He sighed and stood, grabbing a knife and helping to mince the Honey-Wasps before speaking again. “But they still have their numbers, and much of their actual power. And Clockwork, Pariah has made his move.”

“I know,” Clockwork admitted, “but is that not in our favor as well?”

“Not if he takes more power from them, Pariah on his own is not a fight we can accept lightly. Anything more being beholden to him is hardly something I wish to see.” 

Clockwork cracked a Kraken’s egg into the mixture and moved the bowl closer to Nocturn so he could scoop the Honey-Wasp bits into it as well, without losing any of the juice. Mixing it would be troublesome, some of the more experimental batters attempted to gain sentience and would try to escape the bowl. “It will work in our favor either way. the other Daniel caused havoc, their power was broken across the realms. Pariah is merely salting the ground we have burned.” 

He used a dull knife to cut into the batter and stirred, stopping any attempts at formation. Nocturn grabbed the bowl from him, forcing eye contact. “What if he seeks something else?”

“Haven’t I already escaped the chains he bound me in before?” Clockwork laughed. “Do I not have allies that would find short work of cutting chains that I did not allow to bind me?”

The bowl was set back down and Clockwork and Nocturn both made short work of dividing the dough and setting it into the oven. “We could not break the bindings of the Observants,” Nocturn said as Clockwork closed the oven door. 

“That is different, that was part of our plans. They needed to never suspect me, if we were to get this far.” Clockwork waved him off. “Would you like a cookie?”

“We have to wait for them to cook, Clockwork.” Nocturn said, exasperated.

Clockwork simply rolled his eyes and increased the time surrounding the oven. “I don’t wait.”

Daniel hadn’t visited again since Clockwork allowed the other Daniel  to escape. It was possible, he admitted in the back of his mind, that Daniel blamed him for what happened. As well he should. Yet, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

He was watching the screens again. Aiming them in every direction he could to see everything as it played out. Most were occupied by the remnants of the Order he had set about decimating. A few were dedicated to their interconnected Lair, the place where they held their play courts and kept their prisoners. It was where they kept Vortex before he was freed. One screen though, was aimed at Pariah’s Keep. 

It had been a simple thing that Clockwork had neither encouraged nor discouraged, Daniel’s visits with Pariah. But now that Clockwork’s own visits had come to an end, it had become something distinctly bitter, a feeling that was building in his chest, where his core hummed, that Clockwork was ignoring with all the practice of a man dead set on his goals. 

Daniel would visit again, of course. Clockwork could even tell the exact date and time, or at least the most likely ones. He didn’t look at the futures where Daniel never came back, there was no point in uselessly fretting about it. He’d be fine, there were more important things to deal with now. 

He could feel the pressure of his binds loosening as more and more of the Observants were hunted down. Not all of them were ended by Dan, of course. They had made many enemies. Both Vortex and Undergrowth had gone out of their way to visit quite a number themselves, along with a few of the other Ancients. Clockwork was certainly tempted to do so, alas, the restrictions upon him prevented it still. And the only way for those restrictions to end was for those wielding the reins to End. And well, then there wouldn’t be anyone left to take his ire out upon would there? 

Instead he allowed his own part in their demise to be enough for his bruised ego and the millennia of torment he’d undergone beneath them. Then he ate a cookie and kept watch of his screens. 

Pariah was teaching Daniel how to use a sword. Pandora had attempted to teach him swordsmanship but Daniel had been disinclined to it. He wasn’t particularly elegant to be fair, and the finesse and practiced movement of Pandora’s sword was more akin to an art than anything else. Her limbs risked entanglement if she wasn’t careful and had developed a style suited to such. 

Daniel was much more inclined to blunt, ferocious movements. He often thought with his fist before anything else, even as a ghost with a multitude of powers to command. He used speed and strength to win and outmaneuver his opponents and despite his lack of polish, he often won due to those two traits alone. Pariah was a talented teacher, in that he was clearly taking what Daniel had already in ample supply, and taught him how to wield it appropriately to its maximum use. 

He was still only beginning of course, but Daniel was a fast learner and had grown significantly in a short period of time. 

Clockwork had toyed with the idea of taking Daniel on as an official apprentice once or twice before. Teaching him how to exist beyond the means which he had become accustomed to as a human. While he would not have Clockwork’s inclination for time specifically, Daniel’s connection to the Realms would allow him a level of control over his surroundings and the beings that exist in them that simply does not exist in anyone outside of the Ancients. And even then, Clockwork’s Time was different enough from the others’ domains to be unique in and of itself in a similar vein to Daniel’s powers. Even if they’d only just barely begun to show. 

But it was a risk to do so before everything else came to fruition. If Daniel realized his plans, it would be troublesome. He likely would not agree to the lengths Clockwork is willing to reach, and more than that, there is no guarantee that his existence as half human would not have him attempting to side with Order over Chaos. No, it was better to wait and see how it all played out first. There wasn’t much left to do before the end. 

Yes it would lead to anger. Perhaps even to hatred. It would be fitting for Clockwork. He had never known a love that had yet to turn. That had truly been any kind of unconditional. 

But he would be free. 

Finally, finally free. 

Free from this horrid linear existence, free from his servitude, free from his bonds. The root of him, the core, had been born from Chaos, from the mess of all things and no things, and like any child wishing to cradle in the arms of its mother, Clockwork longed once more for it. 

He had been patient, as had the others. There was little left to do. 

  When Daniel finally visited again Clockwork had made cookies. 

They resembled human chocolate chips, if one squinted, and Clockwork had made sure to take them out of the oven just as Daniel arrived so they would be warm.

“There you are Daniel,” he greeted. The cookies were still moving and he had to give the tray he was holding a bit of a shake to get them to stop. He doubted Daniel would eat them if he thought they were alive. 

The boy didn’t look well. He had deep bags under his eyes, and a skittish, weary look about him. 

Clockwork clicked his tongue. “You need to sleep,” he said, not waiting for Daniel to speak. 

“What?” The boy lifted his head, confused. 

“I said, you should sleep.” Clockwork grabbed one of the amulets from the wall and placed it around Daniel’s neck. “I’ll stop time for a few hours, you can sleep here if you want.”

Daniel just blinked. “Oh.”

Nodding, Clockwork turned back to his screens so he could keep watch. Nocturn had warned that Pariah was making his move and Clockwork was determined to keep an eye on him now, when the timing was most crucial. 

He felt a tug on his sleeve. 

“Clockwork…”

He looked down to catch Daniel’s eyes. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, “thanks.” He grabbed the amulet in one hand, a torn expression on his face. Then he floated off to the room Clockwork had given him to sleep.

Watching as his ward wandered off, Clockwork waited until he was out of sight to grab hold of time and let it rest for a moment. It was the least he could do. 

It wasn’t long after their fall that the final thread snapped and Clockwork opened his eyes in triumph. Everything was available to him now. There were no hidden futures, no shrouded pasts. His screens multiplied around him as even his Lair was freed from its limits. Like a beast stretching from a long hibernation, Clockwork lost himself to his Obsession, revelled in the freedom he had long gambled away. 

The Infinite Realms felt it as he left the Clocktower for no reason other than because he wanted to and he didn’t have to ask. He didn’t have to come up with some convoluted reason as to why this was perfectly acceptable before his own body allowed him to leave the doors of his own Lair. It felt wonderful, he almost took down his hood to see everything around him with the eyes of a free spirit. 

He didn’t though, it would be too much of a hassle to wrangle his hair back and he didn’t really want someone to see him so freely bared. It was enough in every way, that he was finally free. 

“I almost forgot how powerful you were, Clockwork.” He turned to see Misery Vex, lounging comfortably just outside his lair. “The Eyes Around Us are gone then?”

Clockwork nodded, looking to the future, looking to the past. She had been waiting here for him, but not for long. And she wouldn’t have waited much longer. “Are you ready for what happens next?” he asked. 

“Are you?”

He nodded again. There weren’t any more preparations to make, how could he be anything but ready?

They didn’t meet at the Clocktower this time. 

It was no longer necessary after all. This time they met in the night. The soft evening of eternal sleep and dreams, Nocturn’s lair. It was spacious if nothing else, and creative with its decoration. Should one of them wish to sit, they merely needed to chance sitting and see if the space around them would accommodate. It suited him immensely. 

“Have you found her yet?” Misery asked.

Sojourn nodded, a small enthusiastic smile hidden under his beard. “Yes, Clockwork and I were able to locate her shattered core amongst Pandora’s boxes.”

“ It will not be easy to receive her, and it will only be more difficult to revive her,” Nocturn warned, “especially if we wish to keep this to ourselves. Rather than risk the entirety of the realms turning on us as they did the Observants.”

Clockwork nodded, “we shouldn’t do much in more than pairs. Sojourn and Misery should seek Pandora. Nocturn and I can set the ritual once the pieces are complete.”

“And the rest of us?” Undergrowth scowled, he hated Nocturn’s lair. It was cold and empty, barren of any more physical matters and there was nowhere for him to take root. Clockwork suspected half of the reason it was that way was intended to irritate Undergrowth specifically. 

Sojourn clapped his hands together and smiled, his eagerness truly knew no bounds and his obvious delight was nearly infectious. “You’re our escape plan of course! We’ll need help once we locate the right box, Pandora’s obsession is hardly a good one to be on the wrong side of.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Vortex grinned.

Clockwork couldn’t help but agree, what are they waiting for indeed? 

  “What is Chaos, Clockwork?” Daniel asked. But Clockwork was distracted.

He hadn’t expected Daniel to show up today, he hadn’t paid attention to it. There was so much to do, so much to get ready for. The time was now after all. 

He took care to answer anyways, the changes that were to come would affect the boy. At least a little. He was strong enough that he would thrive in Chaos, and it would help to nurture his Obsession, if the weaker denizens of the Realms needed help. And they would

“Chaos was the first, how it all began. Everything started with Chaos or nothing could have been at all.” 

Daniel frowned, a small furrow in his brow. “That… didn’t really-“

Clockwork paused for a moment. “Is something wrong Daniel?”

He sighed. “So if you were made from Chaos, is she like, your mother?”

“No. Chaos is not sentient so much as conceptual.” Clockwork frowned, “though I suppose she predated concepts as well if she was the first. Chaos was neither one thing nor many things. It’s safe to say Chaos was everything and everything came from her. But that did not make her nurturing” 

Clockwork looked back at Daniel, letting time flow smoothly once more. It wouldn’t do to delay. 

There was a hint of something in Daniel’s eyes, a wariness that Clockwork had never seen before. It must have been due to their conversation, but Clockwork couldn’t place what about it would have Daniel on edge. Chaos would not be any more a threat to him than it would be the other Ancients. 

“Clockwork, if Chaos came back…” he paused, as if the words had been stuck in his throat, “what would happen to the humans? The mortals?” 

What a strange question. “Life would not exist as it does now, utter chaos would not permit it.”

It had been something of a sport, to watch Sojourn and Misery in their attempts to find and excavate the remnants of the Core of Chaos. Clockwork and Nocturn had watched it from the safety and comfort of Clockwork’s lair, on the largest of his screens. 

“They’re having fun aren’t they?” Nocturn mused, taking a sip of his tea. He’d made it himself in Clockwork’s kitchen, had been insistent about it when he’d seen Clockwork start to make his own.

“Pandora is a valiant warrior and a good fighter. Misery has been on the sidelines for some time since the end of Pariah’s court.” Clockwork’s tea was cold. He frowned and set it aside.

“Yes, it’s good to see her stretching her limbs. I hadn’t seen all of them since her last fight.”

Clockwork thought back, the fight Nocturn was referring to played on one of the smaller screens. It was a gladiator based competition, where Pariah had sent her as a member of his court to show his power. She had challenged the Lord of Little Crawlers to a duel and shredded him to pieces before even five minutes had passed. Then she had collected herself, reset her veil, and gone right back to Pariah’s Keep. 

Now she was using every extra limb she could against Pandora, swords clashing with long knitting needles and strings of silk. Watching the fight was mesmerizing to be sure, almost akin to a dance, if not for the frustrated vulgarities being thrown around and Sojourn’s overly eager cheering from the back.

“Do you think they’ll make it?”

“Sojourn will remember what they’re supposed to be doing when he almost drops one of the boxes held in his arms. Upon that realization he will sneak away while Pandora is distracted and meet with the others. From there they will come here with their spoils and it will be our turn to prove our worth.” Clockwork answered, easily detailing the future ahead of them. 

Nocturn nodded and took a sip of his tea.

  It didn’t happen exactly like Clockwork had predicted. But it was close enough. Sojourn had bypassed Vortex and Undergrowth completely and simply flown straight to Clockwork‘s lair on his own. Nocturn spared Clockwork a glance, but he remained unaffected. It was still on track to be an ideal future. 

Once Sojourn entered his lair Clockwork grabbed hold of time with his hand and twisted , forcing it to bend and still under his palm. The trip to the Cave was only a step after that and once there, he let loose and released time to settle amicably around them.

“Amazing,” Sonourn said, “I do think I’d like to travel this way more often. It’s quite convenient.”

Nocturn patted him on the shoulder and grabbed one of the delicately detailed boxes he’d been balancing precariously in his arms. “You’d need to be very careful if you did, there’s no telling what might get caught up in all that twisting and turning.”

“It won’t matter much longer after this,” Clockwork said, taking his own box. 

The entirety of Chaos was not here, her core long since mostly destroyed, but there was enough to recreate something should they use the ritual they had devised. 

It needed to be hidden, so they had found a cave. It was ancient, and once thought to be a reliable doorway into the spiritual and mortal realms, every wall was covered in ancient arts and writings. No rhyme or reason between them, a bit of a mess conceptually, but perfect for their purposes. Once Vortex had destroyed it in the mortal realm, it had been simple enough to recreate, especially using Undergrowth and Misery Vex’s powers. 

Most ghosts dared not travel here, where they placed it. It was a deeper part of the Infinite Realms, where the pressures of the ambient ectoplasm was strong enough to kill even some of the more stable spirits, certainly more than any Watcher could have ever handled. 

Clockwork gathered the ashes in the center of their chosen chamber. Three rights from the first left. Nocturn moved around the edges, the walls solid and firm under his hands as he tested them. And Sojourn, setting his own box aside, lit the flames. 

It began. 

They had known the work would be hard, tedious even. Most mortals, when they picture rituals like this, imagine chanting and holding hands, perhaps some use of indomitable will. But this was far more personal, more hands on.

Clockwork took the broken edge of a shattered piece of core, and began to mold it, shaping and soothing it into a puzzle-like shape. He had spent time looking into human carpentry practices, and had come across the traditional Chinese techniques of Lu Ban. 

It had taken more than a human lifetime to learn it properly and then suit it to his own needs, but he put it into practice now, shaping the shattered pieces anew and slotting them together so that they might fit and stay snug.

Sojourn had weaved together layer after layer of treated ectoplasm into a fine cloth and was now sewing it into a fitted dress, each stitch small and tidy, seamless against the weave. 

The one who stoked the flame, who kept its energy strong and the newly forming core well fed, was Nocturn. He kept a measured gaze upon it, not once turning away or getting distracted. 

This continued for an eternity, the creation, or recreation, of something both ancient and now new was exhaustive work. But eventually, Clockwork felt a hum. A small, weak thing that would have left him breathless had he needed to breathe. 

Chaos was born again, though faint, though weak. Not anything close to what she once was, but still, she was there, feeding on the flames of her own ashes, pieces of her own core held together and finally finding life. 

They needed to keep going. This was delicate work, if they got distracted, if there was even one misstep, it would be over. Chaos would be what she is now, what they made of her, and not what she needed to be. 

The fire went out.

“ Damn ,” Nocturn hissed, quickly turning to look around. He did not bother to relight the flame, it was too late. Clockwork felt hollow, had they truly failed? But how? 

He acted quickly, bundling the newly formed and still fragile core into Sojourn’s half sewn garment and thrusting it fully into the other Ancient’s hands. 

“You are the fastest of us, run, hide her away before we lose her entirely.” Sojourn nodded solemnly, flying quickly through the winding tunnels that led out of the cave. 

Nocturn scowled, “whoever is there should be glad I am merciful. Come out now and I shall forgo eternal torment for a quick End.”

There was only silence. 

Clockwork was growing irritated himself and looked to the future, only to see Nocturn tackled into a wall by a familiar black and white blur. 

“Daniel?!” He said, his thoughts screeching to a halt. But, there was no way. He couldn’t have followed them. He would have had to know about the cave and been lying in wait for the exact moment to-

There was a soft sound, like the clinking of a delicate chain, as Clockwork felt a weight upon his neck. All at once he felt the universe stand still, as if he had been trapped in the moment, the singular moment no longer able to spread himself beyond. It was cloying, claustrophobic. Something he never thought he’d experience again. 

And he knew who was behind it. 

“You’ve always been impatient my dear.” Pariah spoke softly, his lips far too close. 

Clockwork fled, slipping between moments to force space between them almost on instinct alone. Pariah simply let him go, a smug smile on his face. No, he wasn’t supposed to be here. How did he know about this place?

What had he placed on Clockwork’s neck?

He lifted a hand, not taking his eyes off of Pariah in case he decided to get any closer, and felt around his neck. It was a chain, delicate and just long enough to have slid over his head and dangle its pendant at a point on his chest, just above the glass. The shape of it was vaguely familiar, but Clockwork couldn’t place it.

“What have you done to me?” he asked, using anger to hide the tremble in his voice.

Pariah’s expression softened and he took a step forward. “Did I not say I would see you decked in gold?”

No…

The necklace…

It had been a cursed necklace, layered in charms meant for protection that slowly twisted into possession and control. It shouldn’t have been strong enough to cause any trouble at all to Clockwork, if something this simple had worked, Pariah would have used it long ago in the peak of his madness. 

Clockwork grabbed the chain, intending to rip it off, but Pariah spoke, startling him. “I wouldn’t, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Then why did you put it on me?” he tugged at the chain in emphasis, without his strength. Pariah never warned for no reason. 

The bastard smiled, like Clockwork had asked a stupid question, one he should know the answer to. Clockwork scowled, and moved further away from him. His back hit a wall. The cave, while earlier it had been comforting, a sign that eternal chaos was close at hand, that all Clockwork had done was paying off in the end, it was now more reminiscent of a stone cage. 

A trap.

He’d walked straight into a trap, one Pariah had been laying since he awoke. And Clockwork had never paid it any heed, had not bothered with his machinations because he assumed Pariah would be too slow, had thought whatever he did would be too weak. He had underestimated him, and now Pariah Dark was walking towards him, a lion stalking its prey.

Clockwork froze time.

He was still moving. Clockwork had frozen time and Pariah was still moving . 

It shouldn’t have been possible, there was nothing restricting Clockwork’s power in that way. He felt the threads of all existence tangled around him, grabbed the ones moving forward and tugged, sharp, desperate, to keep them still. He felt them still. 

Pariah kept moving though. 

“How-?” Everything else had frozen, all around them was silence and the only things that moved were the two of them. It was a strange kind of dance, one stepping closer and the other floating away. 

“I made it myself, the charm. It ties you to me, obviously.” Pariah caught him, gently because he didn’t need to use force, didn’t need to use any of the almost limitless strength behind him. “It’s based off the contract you signed with the Observants, I hadn’t honestly expected it to be so blatantly one sided when I read it. Though I suppose it was on purpose, a miscalculation on your part, in the end.”

Clockwork pulled his hand away, but Pariah simply moved with the action and stepped closer, crowding against him. “It doesn’t work like that,” Clockwork said through clenched teeth. A one-sided contract that gave away so much of himself was necessary. It was also only possible because Clockwork had signed it. Pariah couldn’t mimic that without Clockwork’s consent, that wasn’t how it worked. That wasn’t how any of this was supposed to work. 

Pariah hummed in agreement. “It wouldn’t be, if that was all I did.” He brushed a lock of hair from Clockwork’s eyes. “The Order of the Observants was in chaos. They were desperate. They wanted someone powerful to protect them. They were willing to give anything for the possibility they might find safety.”

Then he pulled out a medallion of his own, a horribly familiar one.

Oh.

So that was all it took…

Pariah was right, it had been a miscalculation indeed. 

“Even if they gave me to you, the contract dissolved with the Order. I felt it break.” 

“It did,” Pariah took hold of one of Clockwork’s hands and held it to his lips in a kiss, “But I had you for long enough. Long enough to bind you to myself instead. All it took was some craftswork.”

He let go of Clockwork’s hand to touch the pendant hanging from his neck instead. It was a gentle, reverent touch, as if thanking the damned thing for its work in keeping Clockwork trapped for him. “Luckily I was up to date on all the most prominent binding curses. I have a friend who suffers from such an affliction after all.”

“Fuck you.” 

Pariah laughed, a genuine surprised chuckle that truly lit him up from the inside. His eyes were so warm, his hands burned like brands, and Clockwork wanted nothing more than to tear out his other eye with his teeth. “Come Clockwork, you’ve failed. Let’s go home.” 

  Pariah led him back to the Clocktower, his lair. His home and prison. Clockwork stormed past him once they were inside. “And what is your plan now? I can’t imagine I’d be much use in subjecuting the Realms, as you can see I’m quite traitorous by nature. All of my previous masters can attest.”

“Then it’s good I’m keeping you for your sense of humor,” Pariah said as he closed the door behind him. 

It was the first time Pariah Dark had ever been inside Clockwork’s lair. Pariah had always been a cautious ghost, it made sense that he wouldn’t allow himself the vulnerability of being inside another powerful ghost’s lair, a place where they quite literally held all of the power and had all of the control. 

The irony of course, was that the moment Pariah had stepped inside, it was Clockwork that felt vulnerable. Exposed like a raw nerve, every part of him standing on end, tightly coiled and ready to flee. 

“How is this exactly how I have always envisioned it?” Pariah says dryly, his eyes roaming freely, invasively over every nook and cranny. Every randomly placed cog and haphazard ticking machine. It was a chaotic mess, naturally, it was Clockwork. 

Clockwork picked up a twentieth century alarm clock and weighed it in his hands before chucking it as hard as he could towards Pariah. The bastard caught it, of course. And Clockwork scowled.

“Did you often picture yourself waltzing into my Lair?”

Pariah set the clock down carefully, as if it would break. As if it were truly a piece of Clockwork himself. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t have. You were certainly at home in mine.”

“Oh please, half the Realms has access to your Lair. We are not the same.” Clockwork scoffed, crossing his arms and floating awkwardly in the middle of the room. He didn’t want to be any closer to Pariah, but neither did he want to risk being backed into a wall again . It seemed a recurring treat for Pariah, to cage him in that way. 

There was a touch of mischief in Pariah’s smile when he replied. “Perhaps we can change that, would you like more visitors?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

Clockwork grabbed another trinket to throw, this one he had pried from the walls. Pariah handled that just as easily, an uncomfortable expression aimed at the destroyed part of Clockwork’s wall. He was truly the most obnoxious perfectionist. If Clockwork’s mangled mess of a lair was going to bother him he shouldn’t have bothered to come inside.

In fact, if he was going to be disappointed so easily he shouldn’t have chained him in the first place. It wasn’t as if the bindings guaranteed something like loyalty. They couldn’t even force him to act should he not wish to. Clockwork wasn’t going to change from how he had been for eons under the damn Eyes. 

“Why did you do this?” Clockwork asked, “And don’t dare say it’s only because you said you would. You may be meticulous but you are not beholden to simple words.”

Pariah had fixed his wall. And was now attempting to reinstate the very same decoration Clockwork had used as ammunition. It was strangely domestic to see and Clockwork felt rage simmer and build. Would he simply make himself at home then? Perhaps he would seek to combine their lairs in a twisted amalgamation so that he might seek order where it damn well did not belong.

“You were going to leave.” 

What a useless excuse. “Did you lose your ability to reason permanently to that crown?”

This time it was Pariah that rolled his eyes. “Obviously not, if I was able to out-fox Clockwork of all ghosts.”

“You had help.” Clockwork said through grit teeth. He wouldn’t ask who, he didn’t think he could handle having it confirmed.

Pariah’s eyes sparkled. “So you knew?”

“I figured it out.”

“Feeling very betrayed, Clockwork?” This time Pariah’s smile was sharp, a vicious little thing that certainly made him more recognizable as the fallen tyrant he actually was. 

Clockwork refused to rise to the bait. He did not regret, it was impossible to feel regret when every single decision he’d ever made had been so thoroughly calculated. “I wasn’t going to leave. Where would I even go, Pariah?”

“You were leaving me.” Pariah walked towards him, quicker than his usual slow prowl. Clockwork had chanced a step back himself but it only served to darken Pariah’s expression further so he stilled instead and allowed himself to be caught and held. Pariah’s hands were heavy, one landing on his hip and the other reaching for his wrist. “You were disappearing to the flows of Time, one minute here and the next somewhere no one could follow you. You speak of chaos and the freedom it would give you, but you lie to yourself when you say that is all that you desire. The freedom you had so desperately sought, how lonely would it have been.”

Pariah had not been able to talk after that, too busy weathering Clockwork’s sudden violent outrage. 

Nocturn was the first to visit him, to see Clockwork’s anger, his desperate lashing out. He had the same expression he’d always had when the topic of Pariah or Daniel had come up. The look of undisguised pity, as if he had known from the start that Clockwork would fail, that he would be chained in this way, the moment his freedom was closer than at any other time. 

“We do not hate you for your failure, Clockwork,” Nocturn said, and Clockwork bared his teeth. It had been sometime since he’d carved out an eye in petty vengeance but he was not above making it a hobby.

Nocturn simply kept his distance, just one step away with one of those damned medallions around his neck, stopping Clockwork from freezing him in place in his own lair. “You’ve always been easily twisted by affection, too willing to be tied down with familiarity.”

His words hurt, like an arrow piercing through Clockwork’s chest. He hadn’t thought it would be so literal, hadn’t taken Pariah’s threats seriously. Had believed, genuinely, that he would be able to escape whatever bonds Pariah had fashioned for him. Had not thought to protect himself thoroughly enough and now all was for naught. Nocturn said he harbored no ill will, but he should . 

And Clockwork was distraught that he did not. 

He deflated and Nocturn floated closer, just within range. But Clockwork’s arms hung heavy, and he was exhausted now, the weight of it all too much. “You should. Chaos is lost to us.” he spoke, his voice barely audible.

“Yes,” Nocturn acquiesced, “but Chaos was lost to us long ago. It was a child’s hope, that we could get it back.”

“You are content then? To rot in containment in an infinite realm of order and stability?”

A laugh escaped Nocturn, perplexing Clockwork and only flaring his temper worse. The other Ancient didn’t even try to hide as he fell into a laughing fit. “I would not be, no. But my oldest friend, I am not the one in containment. I have always known you look too much towards the forest and its tallest trees, very rarely have you ever noticed the grass or the leaves.”

“Speak sense,” Clockwork snapped. It was his job to speak in riddles, he had little patience to hear them now. 

Nocturn did not call him on his hypocrisy though, instead he shook his head and floated closer, relaxing next to Clockwork as if they were two friends taking tea. “It was not, as you believed, an all or nothing gamble.”

“Was it not?”

“No, the realms are back to Anarchy as they should be. The Observants were the last hold in their attempts to tame them, and they have been destroyed. There is no King, not even a sleeping one, and Chaos exists.”

Clockwork listened, the cold weight of failure that had settled in his chest chipped and cracked as Nocturn spoke on. “She does not exist as she had.”

“But perhaps this is a better way,” Nocturn pondered, “last time, Chaos reigned so supreme it seemed all were insistent to seek order. Then order reigned supreme and we sought Chaos. Perhaps now, with the Realms alive once more, and order and Chaos in balance, it will last instead.”

Nocturn placed a hand on the top of Clockwork’s head, petting his hair. “The other Ancients and I shall seek our fun, and find ways to exist in this new existence. It is only you, I am afraid, that will remain trapped.”

Clockwork slapped his hand away, “How comforting, Nocturn. Do you also go to the newly dead and tell them not to weep, at least they were the ones that died and not others?”

Nocturn’s hand returned to pull his hood down over his face and Clockwork had to slap it away again. “It is not in my perogative to comfort the newly dead. I thought only to inform my dearest friend that he had not earned my animosity. A fear he might have had, failing the plan we had painstakingly worked towards for eons.”

“I don’t want to be chained any longer.” Clockwork admitted. It had been so long since he’d had any semblance of freedom. Did he even know what it would feel like anymore?

“We know. Though some, like Misery Vex, believe it karmic, that your attachments, which had led so thoroughly to our defeat, came back in the forms of chains for you alone. But know that if one day it comes to pass that I can free you, unlikely as it may be, I shall make the attempt.” Nocturn stood, leaving Clockwork alone in his tower. 

“Clockwork?” It was Daniel’s voice. It was the first time his young ward had come to visit since the binding. It was not a comfort to hear his voice, to see that he was okay. It was not .

He didn’t acknowledge Daniel when he entered, wouldn’t have let him in the door if he still had complete control of his Lair… But he’d bargained that away long ago in a gamble that had failed him entirely. 

Instead he floated to his screens. Ever since the fall of the Observants, he could see properly at least. Pariah had no interest in obscuring his vision, had even less in controlling what it was he could see. Pariah’s only interest had been binding Clockwork to him so that he might not escape, so that he might not regress, so that he might not lose himself to the chaos of infinity and escape his limited existence.

Clockwork scowled, still ignoring Daniel’s presence, his attempts at conversation. Pariah’s interests should not have mattered. Because Pariah should not have won . Because Pariah had lost before and Clockwork had been so certain that he would again. Because- 

Because Clockwork had made a mistake when he sealed him away. Because Clockwork knew he could not bring himself to end him. Because Clockwork had seen an opportunity to see Pariah again and had known it would be a mistake but had wanted so desperately just to see him again. Wanted to see him free of the haze of anger the ring and crown had obscured him in, but a ghost’s natural state was obsessive. And Pariah had never hid his desire to keep Clockwork as he was, Clockwork had simply brushed it off as words of affection. He should have known better really, Pariah was hardly the type to speak lightly, and had never claimed what he did not mean with his entire core. 

The screen he was watching was boring, most things were now that he had no reason to keep track of the threads, no overarching plan to work towards. It was so simple. A young ghost was trick-or-treating with a watermelon instead of a pumpkin and was turning into a large candy-based monster whenever someone turned them away. 

It was the middle of summer where the ghost was, and Clockwork allowed himself to appreciate the tiny bit of chaos that the ghost was bringing to the small mortal town. Nocturn had told him that not all had been lost, Clockwork may be trapped, but Chaos had been released. 

Just enough. 

He sighed. 

“Why are you here Daniel?” he finally asked.

Daniel straightened up, he’d been rambling, no doubt in an attempt to cajole Clockwork into joining conversation or listening subconsciously. He hadn't been.

He was also carrying a plate of cookies that Clockwork had not seen, because Clockwork had not looked. When would he learn his lesson about that? Why was he always looking too late?

“I wanted to check on you,” Daniel said, setting the plate of cookies down now that he was sure Clockwork had seen them. “Pariah said you were… having a hard time.”

Clockwork scowled, too many things tearing at his chest at once. Damn Pariah, damn him . 

“Having a hard time?” he said with a false calm. “The plans that I made eons ago, plans that had been in work before your mortal realm even knew what time was, were ruined by someone I trusted. Someone I did not think would step so easily between me and my goals. Exactly what kind of time should I be having, chained to my own lair without even the authority to deny entrance to whom I wish?”

There had been a small flinch, Clockwork noticed, when he had mentioned betrayal. But if Daniel felt any guilt he didn’t look it. He raised his head, eyes full of determination. The very same expression Clockwork had seen through his screens so many times, in the fights against the other Ancients. The plans they’d made to make him stronger, to keep him stable, so that when the Chaos had been released he and the Realms with him would survive. 

He had certainly survived. 

“Pariah said this was the only way to save you.” Because of course that was what Pariah had told him. Because Daniel was intelligent, but Daniel was also a child and all too willing to trust any competent adult. A flaw that Clockwork himself had been so quick to take advantage of. A flaw that cursed him now. 

“Do you really believe that Pariah Dark has my best interest at heart?” he would have sneered, if it had been anyone else. If it hadn’t been Daniel, who was practically his own child. Instead, he asked softly, his frustration drowned entirely by exhaustion.

Daniel still answered him though. “You were changing Clockwork,” What? “The same way you told me Pariah had once changed.”

He hadn’t, there was no way it had been so obvious. He hadn’t, it wasn’t as if he had lost himself to his obsession, nor had he gained power that grew out of his control, what was he talking about?

“You were distant, as if you were struggling to stay in any given moment. Sometimes you’d forget everything going on around you, and others you seemed to be somewhere or some-when else entirely. I mean,” Daniel took a breath, “you’ve always been a bit cryptic, but you were losing yourself entirely . Halfway through a conversation you would start talking completely randomly, in languages long dead or unrecognizable. Or you’d start talking about things that had never happened or had happened forever ago.”

He was almost shouting now, his eyes shining with more than just energy and Clockwork felt a sting in his core. He had known that Daniel would disapprove, that he would get angry. But it had not occurred to him that his anger would be pointed towards this rather than his blatant manipulation of Daniel and his friends.

“And your actions! They were reckless, Clockwork!! Releasing Dan? What the hell?! ”

It was Clockwork’s turn to flinch. “Your future self’s release had always been part of the plan. It was why I had you leave him with me to start with. I was not losing myself Daniel, I was revealing who I actually am.”

Daniel made a desperately frustrated noise. “Do you think saying something like that is going to convince me we were wrong, Clockwork? I- I trusted you! I care about you! You’re-”

“So you’d cage me and try to force compliance so that the more unsightly aspects of myself can be filed away? So you can teach me to be better, like some kind of petty human criminal, Daniel?” He let his anger take over instead. It was easier, so much easier. It was what he had always done with Pariah. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “How dramatic,” he said dryly, “Didn’t you do the same thing to Pariah, wasn’t what you did like way worse? You’re throwing a fit just like he said you would.”

“If you trust Pariah Dark so much, why are you even here? Have him make cookies for you. I'm sure he’s fully capable.” Clockwork wasn’t throwing a fit, he was angry. 

Daniel sighed, grabbing one of the cookies he’d brought. They had long gone cold, but it hardly mattered to Clockwork, he wouldn’t be eating them. “Pariah has a lot of faults, and there’s a bunch of things I don’t really like about him. He’s manipulative, methodical. He never lets me half ass anything and he’s really picky. He doesn’t actually care if a person dies or a ghost gets Ended, and we fight about that kind of stuff a lot. But…” he met Clockwork’s eyes, his expression looked hurt, heartbroken. Clockwork didn’t want to see it. Had never wanted to see Daniel like this.

“He’s never outright lied to me. I’ve been checking, ever since… Well. I don’t just trust anyone at their word anymore. So yeah okay, I know he’s manipulating me just like he was manipulating you, but he never lied to either of us about his intentions. He didn’t do what you did.”

Clockwork couldn’t look at him any more. He’d made so many mistakes. If he was truly destined to fail… He should never have revealed his true nature or intentions to the boy. His disappointment burned almost as much as the chain Pariah had placed around Clockwork’s neck.

It didn’t matter though, that Clockwork could not stand to see him, because Daniel flew towards him and grabbed his face gently, hands on either side of his cheeks. 

“I don’t trust you anymore, Clockwork, but I still love you. So does Pariah. We can fix this, okay?” Daniel said and Clockwork’s eyes widened at the threat. 

He had truly lost, hadn’t he?

[peterrparrkerr]

Size difference - read on ao3

Tagging: @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu @tnpt @sarcastich @nerdylocksandthethreebears @carelessannie @moodystark @peterparkerbingo

*-*

"Being on top isn't that hard," Peter scoffed playfully, bringing a spoonful of his sugary cereal to his mouth.

Tony couldn't help but smirk at that, amusement twinkling in his eyes at the surety of Peter's words.

"No?" He asked -challenged.

Peter shook his head. "I could do it."

"You think you could top me?" Tony grinned, raising an eyebrow. "You're cute."

Peter gave an indignant huff, shoveling more cereal into his mouth before setting the spoon into his bowl and pointing a finger at Tony.

"M'not cute," he started. Tony would've argued the contrary, but the boy continued. "And I could totally top you. I've been topped enough to know how to do it."

"Theres a difference between being topped and topping, sweet thing," Tony chuckled, cutting into his eggs.

"Have you ever bottomed?" Peter asked, chewing his cereal. Tony thinks its Captain Crunch, but he's not big on the brands.

"A few times," Tony shrugged. "When I was your age."

Peter rolls his eyes at that, pointing his spoon at Tony. "If you can bottom, then I can top."

Tony smirks at that. How does he tell Peter he wasn't cut out for it? He was much too soft for topping. The poor thing slips off into sub space far too often to ever really enjoy taking control in that way.

But, Tony also knows Peter. Knows he won't stop pestering about it until Tony agrees to let the boy try.

Which is what he does.

"Okay, you can be on top tonight," Tony said with a smirk. He wasn't opposed to the idea of bottoming, and he could always guide the boy in the right direction.

*-*

That night, Tony spent some time in the shower, stretching himself on his fingers, cleaning himself out for his boy. Its strange, the feeling of his fingers in his ass familiar but also foreign.

He hadn't done this since his days in college, when he was still figuring out his preferences.

He spent extra time getting himself stretched, wanting to make it easier on the both of them. Peter wasn't large by any stretch of the imagination. He was shorter than average and a little thinner than most, but Tony wanted to be prepared.

Once finished, Tony turned off the shower and towel dried himself before making his way into the bedroom he shared with Peter.

The little thing was already looking excited as he crawled to the edge of the bed, smiling at Tony as he got closer.

"You ready?" Tony asked softly, smirking down at the boy as he ran fingers through soft curls. Peter's eyelashes fluttered, his head tilting into Tony's touch.

Peter nods, grin pulling at the lower lip he's suckling on. Oh, Tony can't wait to see Peter out of his element.

"Okay," Tony hums, removing his hand -smirking when Peter scowled. "You're in control, sweet thing."

Peter blinked, looking slightly lost, before that excitement had him near wiggling out of his clothes -all while kneeling on the bed.

"Okay, lay down," Peter said. The smile Tony wore felt permanent as he did as told, indulging Peter in his little stint with topping.

The towel around Tony's hips was yanked open by eager little fingers. Tony couldn't help but hum approvingly as Peter sucked his length into the sweet warmth of his mouth.

Tony was much larger than Peter in every sense. Taller, built broader. Peter was fairy-like. Ethereal and so tiny he was usually mistaken for a teenager.

The boy sat so prettily between Tony's knees, sucking at the first three inches of Tony's cock while his hands worked on the other three. His fingers barely overlapped.

Tony let his head fall back, enjoying the slight pressure Peter created every time he lifted his head.

"Dont let me cum," Tony murmured. Peter pulls off his cock with a wet noise, eyes blinking at Tony in confusion. Tony smiled. "You want me to cum on that little cock of yours, don't you?"

Peter's cheeks flame hot as he licks at the spit coating his lips before nodding. "Yeah, yeah I want you to cum on my cock."

Tony's smile widens as he spreads his legs, drawing his knees slightly up until his asshole is on show.

"Show me what you got, sweet thing," he encouraged. Peter shuffled closer, looking equal parts overwhelmed and giddy.

"Take your time," Tony murmured. Peter gave another little nod before timid fingers felt Tony's hole.

The older lets out a small hum of encouragement, shifting his hips so more of himself was on display.

Peter's fingers were small, he barely felt the intrusion.

"You already stretched yourself?" Peter asked, sounding disappointed.

"Next time you can do the honors, sweetheart," Tony smiled.

"Next time?"

"Its up to you," Tony hummed, feeling Peter fit another finger in. He wasn't really doing much, more exploring, which Tony was fine with.

"Whatcha lookin' for, sweet thing?" Tony chuckled, seeing Peter's eyebrows furrow with concentration.

"Your prostate," Peter huffed. Tony can't help but chuckle again, wiggling his hips.

It takes a little longer before Peter brushes against a spot that pulls a sharp moan from Tony, body jolting with the sudden zing of pleasure.

"There it is," Tony moaned. "Good boy."

Peter let out a noise of his own, high pitched and embarrassed. He continued to rock his fingers into Tony's prostate. God, Tony forgot how good it felt to be stimulated down there.

"How about you use your pretty little cock," Tony suggested, feeling himself draw tight like the string of a bow.

"I know you want to," Tony murmured. "Know you want to know how it feels to top me. You want to feel in control, huh, sweet thing?"

Peter keens as he pulls his fingers free and wipes them on the towel under Tony. He crawls forward and drops onto Tony's chest, their mouths meeting seconds later.

Tony doesn't lick inside. Doesn't dominate the kiss in anyway. This is Peter's show.

Peter's hesitant at taking control of the kiss. Tony knows the boy wants Tony to take charge, but the older is curious to see how far Peter's willing to go before he begs for it. Before he gives up.

"You gonna get your cock in me, or just rut against my belly?" Tony asked, smirking against Peter's lips.

Peter pulls back. "Gonna get my cock'n you," he murmured, climbing off of Tony and reaching for the lube they keep in the nightstand drawer on Tony's side.

It takes Peter a little longer to pop the cap open and  wet his cock, but Tony lays patiently. Peter then drops the bottle onto the bed after clicking the lid closed.

He wiped his hand on the towel again before looking at Tony.

"Go on, baby," Tony nods. "Gonna line yourself with my entrance, and then all you gotta do is roll your hips forward. You can do that, can't you?"

Peter gives a mute nod, throat clicking as he swallows. Tony smiles as he shuffles even closer, getting his thighs under Tony's until the older's ass is practically joined at the bend of Peter's waist.

"There you go," Tony praised, pulling his legs up a little higher. He's not as flexible as he used to be. He'll never be able to bend in half the way Peter can, but he gives the boy enough room to work with.

Peter's already gone a little soft in the eyes at Tony's encouragement. He slips into such a pliant little thing so easily.

But he must really want to prove to Tony that he can top, because he reaches down to fist his cocklet, pressing the head to Tony's hole before pushing in.

"Oh," Peter whimpers, breath hitching as he rolls his hips forward until he's completely sheathed.

"Feels good, doesn't it, sweet boy?" Tony hums. "You like the feel of your cock in my ass? Feels so warm, hmm?"

Peter shuffles even further forward, making sure he wont slip out of Tony as he begins to hitch his hips back and forth.

"Y-yeah," Peter moans, high pitched and keening.

"Lean forward," Tony urged softly. "Hands on my chest, there you go. Now try. You feel the difference?"

Peter hummed an affirmative, hips barely leaving Tony's ass as he rocks into the older.

"Look at you," Tony nearly purred. "Such a good boy, doing so well."

And he was. Tony knew he wouldn't be able to cum like this -Peter just shy of his prostate- but he enjoyed it all the same.

Loved watching Peter pant above him, lower lip caught between his teeth to try and stifle the breath leaving his lungs.

Peter whimpers at Tony's words, leaning further down until his head pressed into Tony's sternum. Tony's hands run down his back and sides, pulling shivers from the younger as Peter continued to roll his hips.

"Doing such a good job," Tony hummed, smirking as Peter's hips stuttered.

"Tony," Peter whined, leaning up so his nose was pressing coolly into Tony's collarbone.

Tony felt the wetness of his eyelashes against his skin and curled both arms around Peter's tiny frame.

The boy mewled helplessly, his cock slipping free as he moved his way up Tony's chest, tucking himself into Tony's neck to mouth at his skin.

"Please, Tony," he whimpered, cock pressed between Peter's abdomen and Tony's stomach.

"Oh, sweetheart," Tony hummed sympathetically. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

Peter snuffled against his neck st that, wiggling his hips a little.

"You want me to make you feel good, sweet boy?" Tony asked, murmured into Peter's ear.

The boy nods, continuing to mouth at Tony's neck. The older man smiles before rolling them, trapping Peter under his much larger body.

Peter's cock rests glistening against his torso, tip barely reaching halfway to his belly button. Tony quickly fists it, stroking him softly as he murmured softly in his ear.

Peter keened and mewled, chest lifting and hips rolling.

He pulls back, settling his hand further down until his fingers press at Peter's hole. The boy lifts his legs, hips rotating and giving Tony more access.

This is where Peter belongs. This is where he thrives.

"Poor thing," Tony mused, beginning to finger the boy open. "You can't help it, huh?"

One finger, then two. Peter whimpers.

"Can't help that you prefer receiving, huh sweetheart," Tony said, voice dripping with honey as he continued prepping the boy; avoiding his prostate.

"Please, please, I need-" his breath hitches, tears welling in his eyes.

"Need daddy to take good care of you, huh, sweet little thing?" Tony continued, reaching for the bottle of lube with his free hand.

"Yes," Peter sobbed, head thrown back as his hips roll against Tony's fingers.

"Alright baby," Tony hummed, removing his fingers and slicking himself up. "Such a good boy for me."

Peter wailed when Tony slipped inside, stretching him wide open. Tony smirked, rolling his hips softly, each time pressing in just a little further than the last.

"Such a good top for me," Tony sang, leaning forward to press kisses along Peter's jaw and neck. "But an even better bottom, hmm."

Peter nodded, breath hiccuping and wet as Tony impaled the boy on his cock.

Only when Tony was fully seated inside Peter did he lean back, looking down at his boy.

He groaned at the sight of his own cock pressing along the skin of Peter's belly, a grossly large overshadow to Peter's cocklet.

Tony watched as he pulled back. Watched the tip of his cock under Peter's skin drag closer to Peter's belly button before he snapped forward.

Peter's little frame moves with the punch of his hips, muscles tightening around Tony at the assault.

"Did you like how warm I felt, wrapped around your little cock?" Tony asked, rolling his hips, watching the bulge in Peter's stomach dance under his skin.

"Thats how you feel, sweet boy," Tony continued, wrapping his hand around Peter's little prick and stroking him in time with Tony's thrusts. "Do you like the feel, Peter? Like your cock stuffed in my ass?"

Peter mewled, back arching.

"L-like your mouth!" Peter sobbed. "Like your mouth better, daddy!"

Tony let out a groan, half in approval and half at the way pleasure slithered down his spine to settle in his balls.

"Such a pillow puppy, aren't you, sweet thing?"

Peter couldn't help but nod frantically, chest heaving as Tony kept the pace brutally even.

"Now we know, don't we?" Tony prompted. "Daddy's always right."

Again, Peter nodded, whining as Tony continued stroking his cocklet.

"Al-always," Peter whimpered.

Tony smirked. "Good boy."

Peter came seconds later, body convulsing through the waves of pleasure, eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open on a long moan that has Tony's balls tighten.

Once he's come down, Tony releases his cock, settling both hands on either side of the boy before pistoning his hips, chasing his own release.

Peter wraps his arms around Tony's neck and the older drops down low, allowing most of his weight to settle against the much smaller boy.

He groans again at the feeling of his cock -so deep in Peter- brushing against his own stomach.

Peter curls his legs around Tony's hips, allowing the older to drive in deeper, desperate little pleas falling into the little space still between them.

Tony cums with a curse wrenching itself from his throat, his hips stuttering to a stop deep inside the boy.

Peter whimpers, gripping onto Tony tightly as he empties himself deep.

Tony settles his mouth along Peter's neck, suckling open mouthed kisses into his skin as he rides the last of his orgasm.

"What a good boy," Tony murmurs. Peter hums as the older slips out with a wet squelch.

He takes the towel to clean the two of them up, then folds it twice and settles it under Peter's rear. The boy usually doesn't go straight to the shower to clean himself, and Tony found it easier to settle the towel down instead of remaking the bed.

He smiles down at the boy, leaning over to kiss at his soft lips before laying down beside him.

"So," he hummed, tracing the soft curve of Peter's stomach. Peter tilted his head up and to the side, peering up at Tony with wide brown eyes.

"How was being on top?"

He can't help but smirk as Peter pulls a face.

"S'not as fun as being on the bottom," he confesses. Tony chuckles and leans forward, pressing a kiss to Peter's pouty lips.

"Told you so."

[mizgnomer]

Excerpts from the SyFy Wire & Film School Rejects interviews with Claire Anderson, the Emmy-nominated costume designer for Good Omens:

[ Film School Rejects - by Ciara Wardlow]  “I worked through it with gut reaction images. So, two guys. Two guys, kind of close, nearly in love, if you like,” she said. “I just went in and we had a really big, very open conversation about how you related to these people in the script and how we would make them real and plausible, but give them a fantasy element. Give them something otherworldly.”

While Anderson says that she ultimately took this approach with more or less all of the characters, mixing period and modern elements to give characters somewhat timeless, yet also somewhat fantastical “out of time” looks, in the early discussion stages it was all about Aziraphale and Crowley. For one thing, Sheen and Tennant were already cast, which was a major help in determining their looks. It took some time to settle on the duo’s main, contemporary looks, but once these were locked in they played a significant role in determining everything else they wore.

[...] Aziraphale maintains a look with significant nods to the late Victorian era. Crowley too, although he manages to put an edgier twist on things than his angelic contemporary. “We re-appropriate bits of period stuff so that it echoes. [Aziraphale and Crowley] echo one another in their visual identity with pieces from their past—where they’ve touched each other in the past perhaps, or bumped into each other.” Regarding how Crowley manages to keep more of a modern, cool vibe, Anderson gives David Tennant’s performance the lion’s share of the credit. “He’s a very nice man, but he’s very sexy. He brought all of that swagger, that rock star, snake-hipped sexiness, and we built on that.”

[ SyFy Wire - by Jennifer Vineyard] GARDEN OF EDEN, 4004 B.C. -  Anderson looked at everything from Pre-Raphaelite paintings to Al Pacino’s hippie clothes in Serpico to determine just the right flow for Aziraphale’s rough-hewn robe, which has gold embroidery on the shoulders and side. Aziraphale is also wearing a golden ring, which later becomes a signet ring stamped with wings in the Victorian era.

NOAH'S ARK, MESOPOTAMIA, 3004 B.C. - “As aged as I am, I wasn’t there,” Anderson says, laughing. “And there wasn’t any painting or documentation from this era. But what we do know is that tunics remained pretty simple, and the earlier shape would have served them well for many years.” Aziraphale’s robe becomes more streamlined, and he wears gold beads at the neck.

THE CRUCIFIXION, GOLGOTHA, 33 - By this time, both Aziraphale and Crawley — now Crowley — are wearing turbans and head wraps, which Anderson attributes to “a bit of vanity.” Plus the wrap helps Crowley conceal his snake-like eyes (it’s too soon for glasses). Aziraphale dons a soft leather coat over his tunic, while Crowley wears female attire of the region — an abaya.

ROME, 41 -  Switching from tunics to togas was difficult, since togas contain 6 to 12 meters of fabric, which is a lot to carry around on camera. Anderson reduced the size by cutting the togas to fit for the character’s movements, and she gave each actor a thematic decorative pin to hold their togas together — Crowley a serpent and staff, Aziraphale a pair of wings (both courtesy of George Easton at Danegeld Historic Jewellery). Although history might argue that it’s too soon for sunglasses, Crowley starts to shield his eyes with a very small, eye-shaped lens. “It’s suggestive, rather than historically accurate,” Anderson says. And as a sign that Crowley is adapting to the humans around him, he also wears a silver laurel wreath.

ARTHURIAN ENGLAND, THE KINGDOM OF WESSEX, 537 - Anderson sent character descriptions and visuals for Aziraphale and Crowley to armor specialist FBFX, which sent a van to London full of pieces that could work for angelic and demonic armor. Instead of focusing on historical accuracy, Anderson looked for shapes and fit that suggested an ethereal — or snakelike — quality, once the pieces had been painted black or silver. For Crowley, she found a helmet that had a smaller face that could suggest a snakehead, and for Aziraphale, shoulder pieces that were slightly wing-like. To add to the wing effect, Anderson added a white fur caplet to Aziraphale’s armor. “It was terribly grand, but not very practical,” she says. “And the poor guys, it was murderously uncomfortable to stand around in that armor.”

GLOBE THEATRE, LONDON, 1601 - Crowley and Aziraphale catch an early version of Hamlet, looking more period-appropriate than ever thanks to the Globe’s vast archive of costumes. Aziraphale’s wardrobe, which includes a neck ruff edged with gold thread, has a metallic look with a hint of iridescent blue, which opens up his color palette. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a cleaner neckline and leather on his doublet, as well as fabrics that provide sheen and luster to suggest his snaky origins.

REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE, PARIS, 1793 - This is not a period to be dressed like an aristocrat, but Aziraphale couldn’t resist a lace collar, gold brocade and fitted jacket — which explains why he’s stuck in a prison cell (at least until Crowley intervenes). Crowley, more mindful of what revolutionaries would wear, dons a dark red jacket that’s almost as dark as his usual black. When Aziraphale miracle-changes his clothes, he wears the red cap of liberty. “It’s a soft beret that falls somewhere between a modern French beret and a pirate headdress,” Anderson notes.

ST. JAMES' PARK, LONDON, 1862 - This is the time period with which Aziraphale gets most comfortable, fashion-wise, and settles into a Victorian look with tartan flair. Anderson also bestowed some heavenly nods to his angelic nature — a feathery velvet top hat, a stopwatch with angel’s wings on the chain, and the signet ring. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a pair of long, elegantly cut trousers that we will see again in the 1960s. “The trousers repeat, which is basically what fashion does anyway,” Anderson says. “And it’s what the story does. There are notes backward and forwards.”

THE BLITZ, LONDON, 1941 - Aziraphale’s tartan necktie becomes a bow tie, and his penchant for wide lapels, a nod to his wings, continues, this time with a spear-point collar. Crowley, who comes to save Aziraphale once again, is dressed more formally, in a full double-breasted wool suit that must have been hard for David Tennant to wear in the South African heat. “The rest of the crew were in flip-flops and T-shirts, and David was in the suit, hat, and those big boots,” Anderson says, recalling the shoot.  “He had to be very physically active in that scene, and yet David didn’t complain about the heat or anything. He’s amazing.”

SOHO, LONDON, 1967 - Crowley, as noted, continues to wear his Victorian trousers, which are right up to date, and which he pairs with a black paisley velvet jacket with contrasting lapels. His sunglasses now have more of a John Lennon vibe. Aziraphale, perhaps inadvertently, is also looking stylish with his Victorian topcoat, spear-point collar, and cravat (modified from his scarf in Victorian England). “You can’t avoid being affected by changing trends,” Anderson says. “However bookish you are, you still notice other people. And you would have had Rolling Stones and Beatles fans wearing that kind of thing. That was our argument for Aziraphale wearing his Victorian topcoat all the way through, and Michael Sheen loved it. He said it inspired him. And the cravat rang in the changes and helped us with the passage of time, rather than always having him wear a bow tie.

[stillebesat]

Meeting Virgil (5x1) -First Time

December Drabbles Day 16  Sanders Shorts: Remy  Sanders Sides: Virgil  Blurb: A Special Delivery Prequel. -Five times Remy tried to give Virgil a child and the one time he succeeded.  Inspiration: @book-of-charlie​ asked: What did Virgil mean by "the last 5 times?" Fic Type: STORK!AU, Winged!Remy Fic Warnings: Bad Parenting implications, Injury, Hitting  Taglist in Reblog. 

The baby girl stirred in Remy’s arms just as the bright lights of good old NYC came into view. “Shh. Shh, little one.” He soothed, brushing her tiny cheek with a single finger, leaving the faintest of traces of dark green dust behind that would ensure that she would drift back into whatever dreams a newborn could have. “We’re almost there.” 

It had been a long night of flying for the both of them, though Remy had been doing all the work with his wings, having flown over three major storm cells in his cross country journey from West Coast to East. 

You couldn’t argue with the Parent Line though. 

Remy glanced to the brightly glowing purple ribbon of light he’d chosen to follow out of the half dozen that had been presented to him when he’d taken the baby girl from the hot car she’d purposely been left in and tilted his wings, adjusting his flight path to take him deeper into the city. 

Always choose the brightest. That was what he’d been told to do when multiple ribbons appeared in his vision. Not that any of the choices were bad per se, but the brighter the colored ribbon, the more easily the parents could integrate the child into their lives and that was what was needed. A smooth transition. 

Far smoother than most of the others. Remy let out a low whistle, wings fluttering as his weaving through the city led him to one of the skyscrapers that housed the richer millionaire type of people. “Well look who lucked out.” He mumbled, pushing his sunglasses onto his head as he landed gracefully on a balcony halfway up the south side. 

A richy. That was...different. Usually the fools were too obsessed over making money and buying their next fancy jet or island to want to deal with children, especially newborns. It just didn’t...fit. 

Remy frowned, adjusting the baby in his arms, his wings curling around them to block out the wind so she wouldn’t get cold as he double checked that the purple ribbon was leading him inside.

It was.

“Huh.” The word left his lips involuntarily as he moved to the sliding glass door, the latch unlocking at his touch so he could slip inside the darkened room. Maybe she wasn’t going to the millionaire but to their maid or butler instead. That would make far more sens--

WHAM.

Remy staggered as something cold and definitely made of heavy metal hit the side of his face. His sunglasses flew off, landing somewhere to his left as he whirled to the source, wing raising in time to block the frying pan swinging again for his head. “WATCH THE BABY!” He screeched at his unknown assailant as he desperately tried to blink the stars from his eyes. 

Geez. And he’d thought seeing stars was a myth. 

The shadowy figure froze. “Lights.” A man said in a low voice.

Remy hissed, ducking his aching head as the room flooded with light, blinding him. His wings automatically folded in over him to protect his poor eyes, but also so he could check on the baby girl. 

If this idiot had harmed her---

But no. The tightness in his chest eased to see her still sleeping soundly. Good. The dust had helped to keep her asleep despite the noise. 

He looked up, wings pulling back as he straightened to glare at the man in a black hoodie with dark eyeshadow under his eyes like a freaking raccoon standing before him with a  frying pan held in his hands. “Geez Rapunzel. You’re lucky you didn’t hurt her!” 

The man bared his teeth, a hiss coming from his lips, though his grey storm colored eyes anxiously checked the bundle in Remy’s arms. “What sort of idiot brings a baby to a break-in?” He demanded.

Remy scoffed, taking a slow step backwards to get out of range of the ‘weapon,’ holding his charge protectively. “Gurl! Me? Break in--out of the two of us--” He gestured with one wing to his brown leather jacket and jeans, wondering why no one else had come to investigate the commotion yet. “Which of us looks more like a robber? Cus it certainly ain’t me, Sugarbee.” 

The man glanced down to his clothes and smirked before he surged forward, pressing the edge of the frying pan against Remy’s throat before he could blink. “I’m the one who lives here, Flynn Rider.” He growled, stormy eyes glittering. “I can dress however the blazes I want and no freaking glowing green-eyed Angel is going to tell me how to dress.” 

Angel?

Remy froze, swallowing as the cold metal pressed against his throat. Impossible. Adults shouldn’t be able to-- “You can see my wings?” He asked carefully, ignoring the comment about his eyes. He already knew people were offset by the metallic quality they held, but it came with being a S.T.O.R.K. along with the wings.

“Well…yah?” The man frowned, grey eyes flicking to them, the baby and then back to Remy himself. “I mean you’re no Mothman, that’s for sure, they're more polite.” 

No Mothman? The man spoke like he’d met one. That wasn’t--they didn’t exist! It shou--who was this guy?! His wings spread out, puffing up. “But that’s---you shouldn’t!”

The man raised his eyebrows, taking a step back. “Why shouldn’t I be able to see them? They’re rather hard to miss.” He gestured to the wings with his makeshift weapon. “All white and huge.” 

“Because you’re not---” Remy cut off, abruptly realizing where exactly the purple ribbon in the room led. “Oh Jiminy Crickets.” He breathed as he made the connection.  “You are.” It still didn’t explain how his wings were visible to this guy, but--

The man tensed, fingers going white on the handle. “I’m what?” 

Remy relaxed, wings snapping shut. It was unusual, yes, but there were no other ribbons drifting through the apartment. Meaning that the Emo Nightmare before him was the only person here. A single father. Unusual, but not uncommon. “You ever hear of a S.T.O.R.K?” He asked, moving a step closer, brushing the sleeping baby girl’s cheek with a finger. 

“The regular bird, or the legends about how babies--” The man inhaled sharply, going pale as the frying pan slipped from his fingers to clatter to the floor. 

Remy smirked. Looked like Rapunzel could piece the puzzle together on his own. “Still wondering why I’m here in your apartment with a baby?” 

If anything the soon-to-be Father got paler, stumbling back a step. “I can’t!” His voice cracked.

Yah, Remy had heard similar exclamations with other deliveries he’d made. “Of course you can.” He said, carefully holding the little girl out to him. He wouldn’t be here if the young man wouldn’t be a good Dad. “You already have a Father’s protective instinct down.” 

If he didn’t end up with half his face black and blue in the morning, Remy would be very surprised. “You’ll be fine.” 

“But she’s a tiny baby! What if I hurt--no.” The young man violently shook his head, vaulting over the back of the black couch to put a blockade between him and Remy, crossing his arms in front of him as a feeble blockade. “No. No, I can’t take her! I’m not a good dad. I won’t be--I can’t!” 

Denial too was to be expected. It isn’t always easy to comprehend that you’re suddenly a parent. Though no new Dad had reacted quite like this before. “You’ll be fine.” Remy soothed. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I don’t make mistakes.” No S.T.O.R.K. did. “Here.” Again he held her out. “Just hold her and you’ll see.” 

The familial bond could only be made once the parents, or in this case, parent held the child in his arms. Not before. But once he did. Flynn Rider here would be fine. He’d be a great Dad.  

 Edgelord shuddered, closing his eyes as he turned away, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “No. Please. No. I can’t. I can’t. I CAN’T! She deserves better. Please.” 

Please.

The purple ribbon fizzled out, vanishing before Remy’s eyes only for a bright pink ribbon to suddenly flash into view, leading out and away from the apartment. 

What the what?! Remy pulled the child close to his chest, rocking her as she stirred, whimpering in her sleep. The ribbon had just--that had never happened before! EVER. Once a S.T.O.R.K. chose a ribbon, then the child would go to that family. No question. And now--suddenly--Remy swallowed, slowly shaking his head, his wings half spreading, fluttering in his confusion. 

He didn’t get it. But if the man felt that strongly, so strongly to change the ribbon’s color-- 

”Alright. Hey. Hey. Gurl, it’s alright. You don’t have to say yes.” It was unusual. Actually, all of this was just plain weird. No one ever refused a S.T.O.R.K. once they were chosen. “I can take her to another.” 

The man refused to turn around. “Then do it.” He choked out. “Go.” 

Remy frowned, but didn’t argue, scooping up his sunglasses as he moved to the open balcony door. He needed to get the baby girl to this family of this new glowing pink parent line before the sun rose. 

Still, he paused on the threshold, looking over his shoulder to the man in black. “I do stand by what I said though.” He slipped outside, spreading his wings. “You will make a great Dad.”  He called as he took a running leap, jumping off the balcony to soar up into the night sky, following the new ribbon’s trail northeast towards Boston. 

Remy set his jaw, holding the babe close to his chest as he climbed. He just needed to find the right child to prove it.

To Be Continued Second Time

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

General reactions on how companions react to waking up to search for f!sole and find her playing/doing silly things/etc with their child in the early morning?

this is so fucking cute!! my heart can’t take it. i’m absolutely in love and this is the content i live for! please enjoy. <3 some are shorter than others but i hope you don’t mind.

i made nicks own a little different just because he physically can’t sleep.

-

he groaned, being pulled out of sleep and searched tiredly for his other half that usually cuddled up to him during this time of the morning. when his hand found nothing but empty space, he opened an eye to find that there was indeed no one occupying that spot. without another word, he sat up and grabbed a shirt nearby, throwing it on to find her. groggily, he quietly called soles name, rubbing his eye. as he peeked the corner of the hall going to the living room, he halted, watching the scene before him.

-

Danse:

his heart began to flutter at the sight of sole and his child sleeping peacefully on the couch together. their child laid comfortably on top of his wife, who wrapped their arms around their small, fragile body and god, danse could not think of a much more pure moment. the soft snores that left their mouth and the way the light shone from window and onto their faces was heavenly. danse found himself staring at them for a quite a while, silently admiring the scene before him. he wondered how he got here, how he got so lucky to have the things everyone yearned for in the kind of world. a happy family, a roof over his head, and a secured settlement- what more could he ask for? all those moments of pain, confusion, difficulties, and regret was all worth it, seeing that everything that he never knew he needed was right in front of him and he wouldn’t do anything in this world to change that. if he had to suffer through his downfalls one more time just for his life to end up this way, then he would do so without hesitation. silently, he’d walk over to his child and pick them up, placing them onto the middle of him and soles shared bed. then he returned to take sole into his arms and went to do the same, pressing a soft kiss to her temple while whispering a soft, “i love you”, as she snored under her breath. he went to his spot and wrapped his arm around both of them, closing his eyes as he let out a content sigh. out of all the moments in his life, this was one of the many that he wished to stay in forever. no responsibilities, worries, tasks- just him and his family together like this.

Deacon:

he’d grin at the sight of his child and wife cooking breakfast, both playfully arguing with each other. the sight of their food stained faces and clothes made his heart melt completely. hed walk up to them quietly, crossing his arms with a fake pout. “wow, you guys are having a party without me? thanks for the invite.” sole and their child turned around, their hands full of bowls full of ingredients. before sole could let a word out, their child threw the ingredients on the table and jumped to deacon, who caught them and twirled them around a bit. “daddy! you’re awake!” hed kiss their temple, continuing to carry them in his arms as they stared at him with excitement. “we were just cooking you breakfast.” deacon would grin down at him, now carrying them with one arm and ruffling their hair friskily with his free hand, “is that so?” their child would nod happily, pointing at the failed attempt of pancakes on the counter and sole would shrug, a laugh escaping her mouth. deacon would step forward to place a kiss on soles lips, his hand cupping the side of her face. the way his lips fell on hers was tender and she kissed back with a smile. after a few moments, he pulled away and shot a childish grin at his child who beamed back, “how’s about we go eat breakfast? i’m starving and i definitely wouldn’t skip a meal made by my star chefs.”

Maccready:

god, if he could describe what heaven was, this was it. there his family was, having a small pillow fight in the middle of the living room at 7:00 am in the morning. he saw how duncan ducked at shauns poor attempt to hit him with the pillow and proceeded to smack him with the pillow of his own. shaun fell back with laughter, pulling duncan’s leg so he could go down with him. duncan fell on the floor with a loud, “woah!”, escaping his mouth and was thrown into a fit of laughter alongside shaun and sole. his wife would be proudly standing, towering both boys with a smirk on her face, “guess i won, boys. all those years of practice did me good.” they’d pout, both talking at the same time as sole chuckled at their stubbornness. “hey!” “that’s not fair, mom! you’re twice as big as us!” they were so focused on arguing that they didn’t catch mac grabbing a pillow nearby him, carefully aiming for soles head. before sole could let out another word, a pillow had met her temple, knocking her down on her knees instantly. with shocked expressions, they looked over to the side to find mac crossing his arms with a shiteating confident smile on his face. “don’t forget who has the real sharp eye here, honey.” sole would pout playfully as their children cheered, running up to hug mac who happily returned their embrace. “totally wasn’t fair! you caught me off guard!” he winked at her, “remember to always keep your guard up.” she rolled her eyes and stood on her two feet to place a small kiss on his cheek. “whatever. still unfair.” he’d chuckle under his breath and stare at her with loving eyes. yup, this was definitely heaven.

Hancock:

he stifles a laugh as his child jumps excitedly with hancock’s hat on their small head. “mommy! look at me, i’m just like daddy!” they bounced happily, holding the hat up with both their small hands to avoid it from falling off. she let out a melodious laugh, which replayed in hancock’s mind, and straightened his hat out to balance it. “of course you do! i’m sure daddy would think so too.” they beamed up at sole who giggled when the hat fell over their eyes once more, “you think so?! i hope daddy thinks so!” that was his cue. hancock walked forward and grinned at his child who attempted to readjust their hat, not noticing his presence in the room. sole did though and received an affectionate kiss on her hair, winking towards her direction. “you bet, kiddo. almost thought i was looking at a mirror for a second there.” they looked up with a surprised expression, the hat tilting back as they did so. their expression would soon turn into one of happiness as an open smile formed on their face and they’d raise their arms at him. “goodmorning daddy!” he’d bend down and take them into his arms, carrying them off the floor. “and a goodmorning to you too, kid. rocking that hat, i see.” they giggled shyly and placed the hat back on his head, “it’s too big for me. it fits daddy better.” hancock shook his head, “not at all. it’s fits me better but you look better in it as per usual.” hancock heard sole laugh in the background and he let a small chuckle of his own escape. “no way, daddy looks better!” they crossed their arms stubbornly, “prove me wrong.” he let out a thoughtful hum and sent her a smirk as an idea popped into his head, “sure, but let’s get some breakfast first, alright? why dontcha grab that box of sugar bombs in the fridge?” they nodded happily as hancock placed them back down, running to the fridge as fast as they could. hancock walked over to sole, who snickered at the expression on his face. he hugged her from behind, placing a kiss on her neck. “know any tailors in town who can make a hat? perhaps a suit too?” she leaned into his touch and looked at her child who made their way to them. “maybe.”

Nick Valentine:

the sound of loud, childish laughter was the best way to come home. as he peeked through the doorway, he saw as sole read their child a book with a variety of silly voices. with every new character introduced, they changed their voice, going along with the story. not only was their child entertained, but nick himself was enticed by the sight in front of him. the beauty and innocence of the moment made his heart ache with love and different kind of happiness he couldn’t find elsewhere. after the book was over, sole had shut it with a smile on her face, “and the end! time to hit the hay, honey.” their child pouted, crossing their arms as they whined, “i’m not tired though, mommy!” sole hummed in thought, looking through the pile of books, attempting to find another story. nick knocked on the door softly to get their attention and they both whipped their heads towards his direction, a happy smile immediately plastering on his child’s face. they jumped up and ran over to nick with open arms and he bent down and caught them. “welcome home dad! i missed you!” he pulled back from the hug, ruffling their hair gently with a smile, “i missed you too, sweetheart. i got you a little something.” his hands fumbled in his pockets and he pulled out a clean teddy bear, their eyes widening in amazement as he placed it into their hands. “wow! you got me this?! thank you dad!” they hugged him once more tightly before going to admire their new toy. sole walked up to nick and placed a hand on his shoulder, tiptoeing as she kissed his cheek. “where’d you get that, love?” he rested a hand on her waist, “some vendor had it displayed and i knew i needed to get it for them. their name was practically written all over it.” her eyes would flicker to their child who spoke to the bear innocently and back at nick who watched them lovingly, “thank you, love.” he placed a kiss on her temple, “anything for you both.” nick released the hold on her waist and took his child’s hand in his own, “its past your bedtime, sweetheart. it’s best we get to bed now.” nick caught the pout on their face and reacted quickly, “i’ll tell you a story or two before you sleep, deal?” they smiled up at him excitedly, “deal!”

Preston:

the sounds of laughter was more than enough to pull him out of his sleepiness, a fuzzy feeling radiating throughout his body. it was music to his ears and preston swore he could listen to it forever, even when he’s long gone from this world. he watched as sole tickled their child mercilessly as they attempted to wriggle themselves out of the situation. the way his wife’s fingers danced around their stomach made them laugh uncontrollably, losing their breath while pleading. “mommyyyy! stopppp!” they begged, a huge smile plastered on their face. sole chortled, “or what? who’s gonna stop me?” before she knew it, preston grabbed her by the shoulder gently, pushing her down to the couch with a grin. “i will.” he held her down as she fought back with a hearty laugh, failing miserably at doing so. “pressstonnn! let me go!” he looked over at his child who caught their breath and wiped their tears away, “wanna help daddy tickle mommy?” without hesitation, they scrambled over to sole and pressed down to her stomach, tickling her. preston did the same but near her neck. her laugh was contagious, causing both preston and their child to do the same as she writhed underneath them. “stop!” she breathlessly yelled, “i give up! you win!” preston let her go and leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead, wiping her tears away. “that’ll teach you to mess with us.” he bantered against her skin and she hit him playfully on the arm, the smile never leaving her face. his child latched into his arm, happily staring up at him with a grin, “thank you daddy, i knew you’d save me!” preston grinned and ruffled their hair, “always. i promise.”

Sturges:

he watched with a small laugh as sole fought her sleep, her head leaning on the couch as she watched their child play with dogmeat. she kept snapping back awake and he couldn’t help but feel bad for not waking up early enough to take her place instead. she was often busy with so many of her responsibilities and duties, so it’s understandable why she’d be so exhausted so early in the morning. sole eventually fell asleep, letting out soft breaths as she was lulled into slumber. sturges would quietly bend down and place a soft kiss on his child’s forehead as they hugged him. “mornin’ bud. seems like you’re havin’ a good time.” they’d smile and nod, petting dogmeat next to them. “yup! mommas tired, so i brought dogmeat to play with me instead!” he smiled proudly, placing his hand on top of their head. “a gentleman just like your daddy, huh?” he’d scoot over to sole and take her into his arms, jolting her awake. “oh sh-“ she stopped herself, her eyes falling on their child who continued to play with dogmeat with laughter, “sorry, honey. i didn’t know i fell asleep.” he shushed sole, cradling her in his arms as he pulled her close to his body. “shh, sleep sweetheart. i’ll take care of them, just get some shut eye, ‘lright?” she’d be too tired to protest, the sound of sturges heartbeat pulling her to sleep. “love you..” she’d whisper against his clothes. he’d let out a hum, watching their child with an affectionate expression as he caressed her hair, “i love you too, sweetheart.”

Gage:

the first time sole announced she was pregnant, he felt a sense of happiness and fear- fear knowing that he was unfit as a father and had little to no idea on how to raise a kid. all of his doubts of whether or not he was a good father drifted into nothingness as he caught both his wife and child sitting on the carpet, drawing on a piece of paper with crayons scattered everywhere. their child was humming a soft tune, scribbling something with a yellow crayon as sole watched happily with a content look on her face. their child faced the paper towards his other half, who observed it with curious eyes. “what do you think, mommy? do you think it looks like daddy?” he paused for a moment, processing the words that left their mouth and slowly connected the dots. was he drawing him? he attempted to put on a serious expression as he walked into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. “does what look like me?” he couldn’t help it, curiosity was biting his ass at this point and he just had to see what they were referring to. their child shyly blushed at gages sudden appearance, hiding the paper from his line of vision. he’d crouch down, eyes still on the hidden gem that was held against their body, “don’t be shy on me now. it’s not like i’m gon’ bite ya or anythin’.” he teased with a small smile on his face. their shyness was so adorable and gage couldn’t help but be intoxicated by it. sole would nudge their child gently and they’d hesitantly show the paper to him with flushed cheeks. he’d take it into his hands and be pulled back at what was indeed a drawing of him and the words, ‘my hero!’ written horribly at the top. he’d be speechless at the wording on the paper as a small grin formed on his face unconsciously. “i know it’s not that great but i tried..” they meekly commented, growing uncomfortable at the silence. he’d look at sole and then back at his child with a soft expression, “quit it with the crazy talk. i love it.” the way their face lit up with happiness made his heart swell and they jumped in to hug him, muttering a small, “i’m glad you do”. his shocked expression would turn into one of tenderness and he smiled, using one arm to embrace them back. maybe he wasn’t such a bad dad after all.

[alreadyblondenow]

Just this one time

Mark Lee x reader // SMUT, SMUT, fluff, angst

Themes: cheating! au, ex? fwb? au

Word count: 3k

Summary: It was a mistake but you did it anyways. You thought you were just playing around, but Mark loves you deeply.

Warnings: smut, mentions of other idols, swearing, CHEATING (please don’t cheat in real life), unprotected sex, rough sex, mentions of alcohol, getting drunk,

A/N: This is based on the dream that I had last night, I never thought I could write so quick. hahahah thought I could make it a timestamp but, it’s too long. Anyways. Thank you for reading!

Part 2 - Just this one time | 2

Today is your birthday and everyone in school made it special. You’re not popular, but your boyfriend is and maybe he made the entire school greet you whenever they see you around. It was an endless saying ‘thank you’ to strangers and you smile and smile until your cheek hurts.

“Hey, I’ll just take care of something. Wait for me okay?” that was your boyfriend Johnny, peeking from the outside of the girl's shower room.

Gym class today made you want to just to lay in bed and celebrate tomorrow, it was so tiring. You decided to wait for Johnny at the school cafeteria with a bunch of students left talking, you saw Mark and waved at it him. Always so handsome and cute for your eyes, it’s been three months since you two admitted that you find each other cute over a truth or dare game. Since then, there’s always been tension between the two of you, but you shrug it off because you don’t want to play with fire.

“Can I wait here? Johnny is taking care of something” you put your gym bag on the floor and sat to the chair next to Mark. You noticed that it’s a club meeting so figured you shouldn’t be here, “Sorry. I didn’t know that-“ you whispered but Mark interrupted.

“Stay, I don’t know any of these people” he grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking out, and you sat back to the chair listening mindlessly to the person speaking in front.

Mark rested his head on the table, making his bag as his pillow, and unconsciously, you caressed his pink hair while you face front and continue to listen. He turned his head and looked at you sweetly and said, “I wish you were mine”

It came out of nowhere and you were caught off guard. His voice was sincere, quiet enough for just the two of you. He shouldn’t have said that you thought, it made the air thick and the situation awkward so you stopped caressing his hair and he looked away like he didn’t say something that will completely bother you for weeks.

Your phone rang, and it’s Johnny calling you. “Hello” you answered, hopeful that he’ll arrive soon.

“Sorry I’m taking too long” you sigh, hearing Johnny explain “meet me at the dorms? Planning the school’s events are killing me right now. I promise I’ll bring you dinner”

“Don’t worry. I’m tired anyways, gym class earlier was torture. I’ll sleep in your bed while waiting- oh, Mark is here. He can take me there”

“Great! Okay, I’ll text Mark to take care of you until got back. I love you, I’m sorry”

Mark brought you to their dorms and your tiredness is evident that you flopped to Johnny’s bed when you got the chance. He and Johnny are roommates so you don’t have a choice to be with Mark a little longer. You watch him change his shirt and you don’t know why you can't take your eyes off of him, then he left you alone in the room.

This is torture and it has to be on your birthday. Mark is pushing you to do something that will hurt Johnny and you don’t know what to feel because you’re liking it.

Mark came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring you a drink and making a toast. “I wish you long life” and to that, you both drink and drink, talked until you emptied the bottle.

“Oh shit” and because of your recklessness, you spilled wine on your shirt. Your shirt and bra were soaked and your eyes widened when Mark helped you in his own way.

“Here, let me help you with that” he came in really close to your chest, sipping the wine left on your shirt. Slurping and kissing your exposed cleavage, feeling his hands on your shoulders holding you closer. You moan his name, and you didn’t want him to stop. In fact, you wanted more. So you removed your shirt and unclasp your bra, giving Mark full access to your body. Just this one time, you told yourself.

And just like that, you touched the fire and you’re burnt. Kissing Mark felt like winning, you feel like you’re free and you want to stay like this for a long time. You feel him adore you in between kisses, praising you with words you’ve never imagined to hear from him. It felt like you two were back to the time where you were playing truth or dare and the excitement and rush feeling about knowing the truth is back.

Mark removed your pants and your underwear together then proceed to kiss your hip bones down to your inner thighs and ends to your folds. It surprised you how he always looked so innocent but the truth is he’s experienced and he can make you moan his name. “Stop moaning my name, the neighbors can hear you moan a different name” he bits your ears, nibbling your earlobe and kissing your neck hungrily now.

“Happy birthday” he pulls away from the kisses and stripped in front of you. He looked so perfect. Thigh muscles looking strong and sexy, his abs not as hard rock compared to Johnny but it’s to die for, but his naked body is nothing compared to how his eyes looked at you. Deeply. “I want this more than anything, but this will mean nothing if you’re forcing yourself right now,” he says kneeling naked with you on the bed.

“How can you say that? I want this Mark” He smiled sweetly and kissed you again. The next thing you know, he’s inside you and rolling his hips, gripping and pinching your nipples. He puts all his weight on you, fucking you really close like he’s scared you’re going to be gone any second.

You hug him back, kissing him so he can catch your moans and muffle the sounds you make. His hands grip your boobs still and thrusting his cock in and out of you. “Mind if I seize this moment?” he asks, but even before you could open your mouth he’s away from your body, lifting your leg for a different angle. Mark pushed in and fucked you deep. Slow. Watching him roll his hips while kissing your leg is like watching porn.

Given that he’s so deep inside you, your moans are becoming louder. Mark covered your mouth, folding your left leg, “shit” you thought.

“Did I found it baby?” he has a smirk on his face, proud that he found your good spot.

He pounds and pounds until the skin of your back burns because he’s dragging you on the mattress, thrusting hard, boobs bouncing up and down. And for his finishing move, he reached for your hand, leaned closer to you, and starts thrusting quickly in an animalistic way. Mark looked into your eyes and continue fucking you so fast, catching his release.

“Why can’t you choose me”

The question made you avoid his eyes, concentrating on the feeling he’s giving you right now. You hear him apologize and you kissed him, telling him it's okay. You had your orgasm first, and Mark followed soon. He came inside you and made you feel loved, kissing you while he spurts thick cum inside you, whispering the reasons why he loves you.  

You feel so weak and you feel the afterglow already, Mark is so handsome above you with pink hair, sweet smile, sweaty face. You chuckled and caressed his cheek and he reached for your hand and kissed it.

“Johnny can’t know, okay?” You tell him.

“I know. Do you feel good?” you nod your head and smiled. “I’ll clean you up, I’ll be back”

The moment he left, sleep took over. You woke up with Johnny kissing you and you see your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you. Nervously you sat up and looked for Mark, hoping that he didn’t leave any evidence of what happened earlier.

“I see you’re wearing my shirt again-“

“Yeah, my clothes are uncomfortable. Where is Mark?” You asked nervously.

He chuckled and crawled beside you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you in on a hug. “He passed out on the couch, poor kid. I think he was shy to sleep on his bed because you’re here”

If he only knew.

“I brought us dinner, and I have a chocolate cake. Hungry?” Johnny kissed your lips while he waits for your answer. The kiss went on until you ended up on top of him, you need to have sex with him too so he can't suspect. “Oh, want to have a little birthday sex before we have dinner huh. Okay, tiger, your wish is my command”

The kiss continues until Johnny is naked from the waist down, you put your legs on both sides of his body, leaning on him for a kiss, and make him do his move. He lines his cock on your cunt, teasing your butthole to make you giggle and jolt your hips.

Unlike Mark who fits perfectly with you, Johnny is big and veiny, a little force is needed to get him inside you fully. And it hurt.

“Were dating for two years already, but you’re still not used to my cock. Should I fuck you more from now on?” Johnny nibs hour earlobes as he thrust upwards, making cry out a moan.

Mark, on the other hand, can hear you both moaning and grunt from the living room. His heart breaks, knowing that at the end of the day Johnny still has you, he still owns you.

The cheating went on for a couple of months, you and Mark fool around whenever it’s safe to. Making out here and there, having sex in your dorm or a quickie in his bed. It’s all fun and games until he started to ask for more.

“Never leave me, please. Let’s tell Johnny”

Even though you’re naked and you feel weak because you just finished having sex with Mark you sat up, released yourself from his loving embrace, and argued with him.

“Mark I can't, you know I love Johnny-“

“So what am I? Am I just a booty call because Johnny is busy?”

You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but Johnny is a different story. You and Johnny have a history and you’re not ready to throw everything away. This is wrong but you have to take the consequences alone and Mark can too individually.

“Maybe we should... stop this Mark”

You two were quick to dress yourselves, disappointed and confused. You watch Mark put his shirt and you cross your arms and waited for his response at the decision you made.

“If that’s what you wanted. Whatever” Mark closed your door loudly, left you without saying goodbye.

And that’s the last time you saw him. He moved back to Canada and left everything behind, “he dyed his hair black first. It was so funny, but he looked so broken for the last few days he was with us. Telling us that he loved her so much but she chose a different man. Who would do that to him? Mark is a nice guy I know because I live with him”

Johnny was telling you the story of how Mark drowned himself with alcohol for days and the boys can’t do something about it. He didn’t tell Johnny anything and it stayed like that for years and years and years.

And you never saw Mark again.

[spicypeak]

[Drama Track] Dangerous Brothers

The drama track begins with EROSION showing up to the studio one by one. Neight is first to arrive and comments that Toxin is usually there before anyone else. Byakuya loudly enters next and starts pien-ing as he does and Neight asks him what that means. Yoru enters next in a seemingly bad mood, Byakuya comments how both Neight and Yoru are upset. Neight and Yoru argue over how loud Yoru's being when Creha shows up and asks Yoru to get out of the way.

Creha's tired and Neight asks him if he was up late playing games again and tells him he shouldn't be gaming that much. Creha says it's impossible for him and goes on a bit of a tangent about a game he's playing. Creha's tangent is quickly ended after Byakuya touches him, which startles him. At this point Byakuya only wants to mess with him further.

Toxin finally arrives, out of breath, and Yoru questions if he just got lost again. Toxin admits the weather was nice and he took a way he wasn't familiar with when he went on a jog, even though he shouldn't given his poor sense of direction.

Byakuya announces that all of EROSION has arrived and they can finally get to recording. Neight says once they finish up recording they should get something good to eat after. Toxin's agrees but Yoru starts complaining about how they've been stuck doing retakes for three months already because of someone. Toxin says he just wants to show everyone that their rock is the best and Neight tells Yoru to give it a rest because Toxin's too stubborn to be stopped. Byakuya provokes Yoru and they fight, Neight tells Yoru to stop and for Byakuya to stop provoking him or he'll die. Byakuya says he'll stop because he still wants to sing and goes off saying things no one else understands.

Anyways Toxin says it about time they actually start recording.

--

They're in the middle of recording From a Spicy Peak when Toxin tells them to stop. Toxin questions if everyone's really taking things seriously but immediately apologizes and says it's on his end and they should try again.

The boys start reminiscing about the past and how they used to copy rock bands in the forest.

Creha: That's nostalgic, we used to copy all kinds of rock bands there. Neight: And we weren't playing for anyone at all. A stage just for us. Byakuya: Right, right! And the only things that would listen to us were the birds and animals. Wait, is that right? There really wasn't anyone listening to us perform? Hey, there wasn't anyone, right?! Hey, c'mon! Someone tell me! Yoru: There wasn't. Back then we were ditching school, everyone else probably had their noses stuck in books. There's no way anyone else was there. Toxin: Now that you mention it EROSION got its name in that forest. A name that fit our rock perfectly. But, who was the first one that thought it? Yoru: Does it really matter, we all thought of the name didn't we. And it was just us then anyways? Neight: Well, people from school might have snuck around to listen. Creha: You sure? We were pretty well hidden, it would've been hard to find us. Byakuya: Is that right... Pien Creha: Byakuya, you okay? Byakuya: I'm alrighty! There's no problems so lets get onto that next take!

--

Back to recording, Toxin once again stops in the middle. Toxin freaks out because his voice isn't coming out right. Neight and Creha talk about how all five of them are crazy and Byakuya asks whether it's them that's crazy or the world around them.

Another take. Toxin, once again cuts it short, but this time he has a full blown freak out and starts breaking things. The other four are just off to the side commenting about what Toxin's breaking. Eventually Toxin comes back completely calm saying they should try again. Yoru gets mad because they have to constantly apologize and pay back the studio for everything Toxin destroys. Since Toxin and Yoru are fighting Creha starts playing a game, Byakuya decides to join him. Creha invites Toxin to join, he refuses, and Neight says it's about time for a break.

Toxin and Yoru start fighting again and Neight says this is why they've been stuck recording for three months. Neight's fed up and says he's going to sleep until they're done fighting.

Yoru tells Byakuya and Creha to tell Toxin that it's his fault they're still stuck recording and Byakuya agrees. Creha's too into his game to notice what's happening. Toxin tries to snap Creha out of his focus but only manages to wake up Neight. (wuh woh!)

Ura-Neight comments how they keep fighting over things that don't matter and how they shouldn't drag him into things. Creha's still focused on his game, Ura-Neight says everyone is stupid and starts playing the drums to snap Creha out of it. Yoru joins in on guitar and Creha finally looks up from his game. Creha says he only meant to go until the end of the raid in his game but got really into it. Byakuya says he and Creha are similar but Toxin and Yoru disagree. Ura-Neight basically asks how many times the rest of them will expect him to forgive them for testing his patience and says he'll destroy them if they keep up the useless talk. Then the door opens,

Creha: Ah, a new mic appeared. Byakuya: It's time to say bye-bye to the mic Toxin broke! Pieen~ Creha: You really... Say pien to anything. Byakuya: You should say it too Creha! Creha: Aha, no way.

Toxin's just frustrated because he wants to create the best music. The rest try and reassure Toxin that it's ok and that they believe in him. 

Another take. But, it's Yoru this time. Toxin says they were doing good that time but Yoru disagrees and says it isn't rock. Byakuya gets upset at Yoru because Yoru's a liar that said they weren't doing anymore retakes. Then in the time it took for a short conversation between Toxin, Creha, Ura-Neight, and Yoru and Yoru telling them to do one more take, Byakuya started drawing.

Creha says he can he can do another retake but for Byakuya it'd be impossible. Toxin seeing that Byakuya's in his own world agrees with this. Ura-Neight gets fed up and goes to bed. Yoru tries to snap Byakuya out of it and grabs him; Toxin and Creha immediately decide this recording is doomed. Byakuya freaks out because Yoru touched him and now he's dirty and goes crazy with disinfectant/Febr*ze (spraying Yoru in the face). 

Creha: I tried to stop you, I said you shouldn't touch Byakuya when he's like this. Aa~ah *I dunno~

And Byakuya continues spraying Yoru

--

Yoru's wiping the disinfectant off himself and Neight wakes up. Neight notices his glasses are wet and asks why.

Byakuya: I was doing a spray spray spray! Neight: This is the worst, you got my glasses wet. Byakuya: Nyahaha~ It's starting to getting silly~ *I dunno~

Toxin asks what Byakuya drew and he reveals it's! Ero Ero Ero Ero EROSION! A smiley face with horns and five X's (NikoDevil)- Byakuya made a logo for EROSION!

Creha: Byakuya it must be nice having talents. The only thing I can do is sing. Byakuya: But singing is a talent too! And I really love your singing you know~ It's that feeling of going completely wild and ending the world! It's the ultimate rock! It's so dangerous! Crazy emotional~! Creha: Thank you Byakuya: Aha~ Let me hear your singing as thanks. I want to be showered with much much much more rock! Creha: I- do too

Toxin says they should do another recording, Neight asks if Toxin knows what time it is and Toxin says it doesn't matter, he wants to sing. Toxin asks Neight if he doesn't want to sing, Neight says that's not what he meant- Yoru says it'd be impossible for them not to want to sing, Byakuya mentions they were born to sing and live to sing, and Creha says he'd keep singing even if his throat went dry, he was coughing up blood, and had completely lost his mind.

Toxin has to stop recording again and is still frustrated over himself. Neight tells him there's no reason when it comes to rock and he should calm down. 

Creha is just belting in the background. He must've gotten into it and didn't notice they stopped.

Creha's singing made Toxin realize what he was missing and they do one more take.

Toxin is finally satisfied and says that they have something that might be able to change the world.

Toxin gets poetic and says music kept him going and that it's like a light in the darkness. Neight agrees but Yoru thinks they're going a little overboard, but does think there's some negative feeling he gets when he thinks about the past. Byakuya thinks it might be because he was dumb and hated studying, Yoru curses him out. Neight tells them to grab their stuff and they start talking about how they're going to Japan soon. Byakuya seems really excited to try tapioca milk tea and Neight shuts him down telling him they aren't there to sightsee, they're going there to do work as EROSION. Toxin adds they also have to find "that" under Carnelian's orders. Yoru doesn't care, Byakuya seems afraid, and Creha excuses himself to the bathroom. Neight mentions that Creha always gets like that when 'that person' is mentioned.

Toxin says it's about time they start heading home. 

Byakuya: HEYHEYHEYHEY! I'm hungie, pien~ Neight: I'm craving meat right now. Once we get back to the hotel let's find a restaurant to eat at. Byakuya: No-no! No way! Outside food is dirty! Heyy Yoru make something~ Yoru: Hah? Who's cooking for you, stupid. Creha: I really want to eat- Yoru's cooking~

Everyone basically pushes cooking dinner onto Yoru and the track ends.

*Creha （俺しーらない～） and Byakuya （ぼくしーらない～） say this the exact same way and I just think it's really cute and wanted to note that

[a-queer-seminarian]

Jesus flipping tables: a more accurate & respectful reading

This post shares a large chunk of chapter two of Amy-Jill Levine’s book Entering the Passion of Jesus. (Read the whole chapter as a PDF here.) Levine is a Jewish woman who is also a Professor of New Testament Studies.

Levine combats traditional readings of the text with their antisemitic layers by evincing how Jesus’s anger reflects the anger of his predecessors Jeremiah and Zechariah — an anger focused not on the simple fact that sacrificial animals were sold in the Temples’ outer courts, but on the way the Temple (like many of our worship spaces today) had become a safe place for corrupt oppressors, who behaved as if their daily atrocities would be overlooked by God if they paid for a sacrifice every now and again.

TL;DR: to sum up Levine’s points, she evinces how:

Jesus’s whole table flipping, whip-wielding stunt is more symbolic than practical (echoing similar stunts pulled by his people’s prophets).

Some have argued Jesus is mad about gentiles not being allowed to worship in the temple, but they very much were welcome. (There were places and rituals off limits to them, just as there are certain things non-members can’t do in our own worship spaces, like take communion or be on a committee). 

Jesus wasn’t pissed about animals being sold in the temple’s outer courts; that was normal and logical. There’s also no evidence of exploitation or unjust prices, so he’s not angry about the poor being cheated here either.

Jesus did not reject the Temple, or its laws & rituals! He followed them himself and helped restore people to them. (He even has “zeal for his father’s house.”)

Jesus also isn’t condemning the high priest or other priests with his actions here. That’s just not in the text; plus Caiaphas’s worry about Jesus’s actions inciting political violence that could harm his people were reasonable.

What Jesus is communicating with his table flipping and whip-wielding: he’s upset that the Temple is as “a den of thieves,” a place where people who sin and oppress in their everyday life feel perfectly comfortable, instead of feeling called to repent and reform. His words hearken back to previous prophets with similar concerns.

And finally, in the version of this story told in John’s Gospel, Jesus seems to be looking forward to a time when the Temple is no longer needed, for all places will be sacred and God will speak directly to everyone of every nation -- once again, Jesus is hearkening back to previous prophets who looked forward to the same thing. This is also a concept that the Pharisees were into, so stop depicting the Pharisees as “evil” or “backwards” or completely at odds with Jesus! (One key difference between Jesus’s vision and the Pharisees’ if of course that Jesus identifies a “new temple,” his own body.)

One last thing: if you’re unfamiliar with the various Gospel versions of the “temple cleansing” -- Matthew 21:12-17, Mark 11:11-17, Luke 19:45-46, and John 2:13-17 -- or want to reference them as you read this post, visit this webpage to read them all.

Without further ado -- the excerpt from Levine.

________________

The incident known as the ‘Cleansing of the Temple’ is described in all four Gospels. Most people have the idea--probably from Hollywood--that this is a huge disruption. When we see this scene depicted in movies, we find Jesus fuming with anger, and we inevitably see gold coins falling down in slow motion. Everything in the Temple comes to a standstill. ...But we are not watching a movie: we are studying the Gospels. 

Here's what we know about the actual setting. We begin by noting that the Temple complex was enormous. It was the size of twelve soccer fields put end to end. So, if Jesus turns over a table or two in one part of the complex, it's not going to make much of a difference given the size of the place.

The action therefore did not stop all business; it is symbolic rather than practical. Our responsibility is to determine what was symbolized.

For that, we need to know how the Temple functioned.

The Jerusalem Temple, which King Herod the Great began to rebuild and which was still under construction at the time of Jesus, had several courts. The inner sanctum, known as the "Holy of Holies," is where the high priest entered, only on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, to ask for forgiveness for himself and for the people. Outside of that was the Court of the Priests, then the Court of Israel, the Court of the Women, and then the Court of the Gentiles, who were welcome to worship in the Temple. 

The outer court, the Court of the Gentiles, is where the vendors sold their goods. The Temple at the time of Jesus was many things: it was a house of prayer for all nations; it was the site for the three pilgrimage festivals of Passover, Shavuot/Pentecost, and Sukkot/Booths; it was a symbol of Jewish tradition (we might think of it as comparable, for the Jewish people of the time, to how Americans might view the Statue of Liberty); it was the national bank, and it was the only place in the Jewish world where sacrifices could be offered. Therefore, there needed to be vendors on site.

Pilgrims who sought to offer doves (such as Mary and Joseph do, following the birth of Jesus, according to Luke 2:24) or a sheep for the Passover meal would not bring the animals with them from Galilee or Egypt or Damascus. They would not risk the animal becoming injured and so unfit for sacrifice. The animal might fly or wander away, be stolen, or die. And, as one of my students several years ago remarked, "The pilgrims might get hungry on the way." One bought one's offering from the vendors.

And, despite Hollywood, and sermon after sermon, there is no indication that the vendors were overcharging or exploiting the population. The people would not have allowed that to happen. Thus, Jesus is not engaging in protest of cheating the poor.

Next, we need to think of the Temple as something other than what we think of churches. A church, usually, is a place of quiet and decorum. ...The Temple was something much different: It was a tourist attraction, especially during the pilgrimage festivals. It was very crowded, and it was noisy. The noise was loud and boisterous, and because it was Passover, people were happy because they were celebrating the Feast of Freedom. ...We might think of the setting as a type of vacation for the pilgrims: a chance to leave their homes, to catch up with friends and relatives, to see the "big city," and to feel a special connection with their fellow Jews and with God. It is into this setting that Jesus comes.

______________

Driving out the Vendors 

...It seems to me that Jesus, in the Temple, was angry. But what so angered him? I hear from a number of people, whether my students in class or congregations who have invited me to speak with them, that the Temple must have been a dreadful institution; that it exploited the poor; that it was in cahoots with Rome; that Caiaphas, the High Priest in charge of the Temple, was a terrible person; that it banned Gentiles from worship and so displayed hatred of foreigners; and so forth. ...Some tell me that the Temple imposed oppressive purity laws that forbade people from entering, and so Jesus, who rejected those laws, rejected the temple as well. No wonder Jesus wants to destroy the institution.

But none of those views fits what we know about either Jesus or history.

First, Jesus did not hate the Temple, and he did not reject it. If he did, then it makes no sense that his followers continued to worship there. Jesus himself calls the Temple "my Father's house" (Luke 7:49: John 2:16). ...

Second, Jesus is not opposed to purity laws. To the contrary, he restores people to states of ritual purity. Even more, he tells a man whom he has cured of leprosy, "Go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them" (Mark 1:44; see also Matthew 8:4; Luke 5:14). 

Third, Jesus says nothing about the Temple exploiting the population. As we'll see in the next chapter, when we talk about the widow who makes an offering of her two coins, Jesus is concerned not with what the Temple charges, but with the generosity of the worshipers. 

Fourth, we've already seen that the Temple has an outer court, where Gentiles are welcome to worship. They were similarly welcome in the synagogues of antiquity, and today. They do not have the same rights and responsibilities as do Jews, and that makes sense as well. When I [a Jewish woman] visit a church, there are certain things I may not do. We might also think of how nations function: Canadians, for example, cannot do certain things in the USA, such as vote for president; nor can citizens of the USA vote in Canadian elections.

As for Caiaphas...Caiaphas is basically between a rock and a hard place. He is the nominal head of Judea, and he is supposed to keep the peace. Judea is occupied by Rome, and Roman soldiers are stationed there. Caiaphas needs to make sure that these soldiers do not go on the attack. He needs to placate Pilate, and he needs to placate Rome. 

At the same time, as the High Priest, he has a responsibility to the Jewish tradition. Rome wanted the Jews to offer sacrifices to the emperor...but Caiaphas and the other Jews refused to participate in this type of offering because they would not worship the emperor. The most they were willing to do was offer sacrifices on behalf of the emperor and the empire.

When Jesus comes into the city in the Triumphal Entry, when people are hailing him as son of David, Caiaphas recognizes the political danger. The Gospel of John tells us that the people wanted to make Jesus king (John 6:15). Caiaphas has to watch out for the mob. Caiaphas also has to watch out for all these Jewish pilgrims coming from all over the empire celebrating the Feast of Freedom, the end of slavery. When he sees Roman troops surrounding the Temple Mount, Caiaphas has to keep the peace. And Jesus is a threat to that peace. But none of this has to do directly with Jesus' actions in the Temple. He is not at this point protesting Caiaphas's role.

Sometimes I hear people say that Jesus drove the "money lenders” out of the Temple. That's wrong, too. Money-lending was a business into which the medieval church forced Jews, because the church concluded that charging interest was unnatural (money should not beget money). Yet people needed, then and now, to take out loans. The issue for the Gospel is not money lending but money changing. These money changers exchanged the various currencies of the Roman Empire into Tyrian shekels, the type of silver coin that the Temple accepted. We experience the same process when we visit a foreign country and have to exchange our money for the local currency.

So, if Jesus is not condemning the Temple itself, or financial exploitation, or purity practices, what is he condemning? Let's look at what the Gospels actually say.

According to Matthew, Mark, and Luke, ...the concern is not the Temple, but the attitude of the people who are coming to it.

In Mark's account Jesus begins by saying, "Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations?" (11:17). Indeed, it is so written. Jesus is here condensing and then quoting Isaiah 56:6-7... Jesus' rhetorical question should be answered with a resounding “Yes!"--for the Temple already was a house of prayer for all people. More, he is standing in the Court of the Gentiles when he makes his pronouncement. ...Thus, the problem is not that the Temple excludes Gentiles. 

Already we find the challenge, and the risk. Are churches Today houses of prayer for all people, or are they just for people who look like us, walk like us, and talk like us?

How do we make other people feel welcome? Is the stranger greeted upon walking into the church? Is the first thing a stranger hears in the sanctuary, "You're in my seat"? When we pray or sing hymns, do we think of what those words would sound like in a stranger's ears? ...

Matthew and Luke drop out "For all nations," and appropriately so, for they knew it already was a house of prayer for all nations. Matthew and Luke thus change the focus to one of prayer. And prayer gets us closer to what is going on in the Synoptic tradition.

___________

Den of Thieves

Jesus continues, ‘But you are making it a den of robbers’ (Matthew 21:13). Here he is quoting Jeremiah 7:11: “Has this house, which is called by my name, become a den of robbers in your sight?”

A "den of robbers" (sometimes translated a "den of thieves") is not where robbers rob. "Den” really means "cave," and a cave of robbers is where robbers go after they have taken what does not belong to them, and count up their loot. The context of Jeremiah's quotation -- and remember, it always helps to look up the context of citations to the Old Testament -- tells us this.

Jeremiah 7:9-10 depicts the ancient prophet as condemning the people of his own time, the time right before Babylonians destroyed Solomon's Temple over five hundred years earlier: “Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, make offerings to Baal, and go after other gods that you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, ‘We are safe!’ -- only to go on doing all these abominations?" 

Some people in Jeremiah's time, and at the time of Jesus, and today, take divine mercy for granted and see worship as an opportunity to show off new clothes rather than recommit to clothing the naked. The present-day comparison to what Jeremiah, and Jesus, condemned is easy to make: The church member sins during the workweek, either by doing what is wrong or by failing to do what is right. Then on Sunday morning this same individual, perhaps convinced of personal righteousness, heartily sings the hymns, happily shakes the hands of others, and generously puts a fifty-collar bill in the collection plate. That makes the church a den of robbers -- a cave of sinners. It becomes a safe place for those who are not truly repentant and who do not truly follow what Jesus asks. The church becomes a place of showboating, not of fishing for people. 

Jeremiah and Jesus indicted people then, and now. The ancient Temple, and the present-day church, should be places where people not only find community, welcome the stranger, and repent of their sins. They should be places where people promise to live a godly life, and then keep their promises. ...

___________

Stop Making My Father's House a Marketplace

John's Gospel says nothing about the house of prayer or den of robbers. In John's Gospel, Jesus starts not simply by overturning the tables, but also by using a “whip of cords" (since weapons were not permitted in the Temple, he may have fashioned the whip from straw at hand), and driving out the vendors. Jesus when says to the dove sellers, "Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!" (John 2:16). He is alluding to Zechariah 14:21, the last verse from this prophet, "and every cooking pot in Jerusalem and Judah shall be sacred to the Lord of hosts, so that all who sacrifice may come and use them to boil the flesh of the sacrifice. And there shall no longer be traders in the house of the Lord of hosts on that day."

In John's version of the Temple incident, Jesus anticipates the time when there will no longer be a need for vendors, for every house not only in Jerusalem but in all of Judea shall be like the Temple itself. The sacred nature of the Temple will spread through all the people. He sounds somewhat like the Pharisees here, since the Pharisees were interested in extending the holiness of the Temple to every household.

The message is a profound one: Can our homes be as sanctified, as filled with Worship, as the local church?

Do we “do our best" on Sunday From 11 a.m. to 12 noon, but just engage in business is usual during the workweek? Do we pray only in church, or is prayer part of our daily practice? Do we celebrate the gifts of God only when it is time to do so in the worship service, or do we celebrate these gifts morning to night? Is the church just a building, or is the church the community who gathers in Jesus' name, who acts as Jesus taught, who lives the good news? 

Jesus' words, citing Zechariah, do even more. They anticipate a time when all peoples, all nations, can worship in peace, and in love. There is no separation between home and house of worship, because the entire land lives in a sanctified state. Perhaps we can even hear a hint of Jeremiah's teaching of the "new covenant," when "no longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, 'Know the LORD,’ For they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more" (Jeremiah 31:34). Can we envision this? Can we work toward it? ...

[dread-on-arrival]

Richard Ramirez - The Night Stalker: Childhood Part 1

Serial Killer Masterlist

This is part 1 to my series on Richard Ramirez’s childhood, I wanted to make this series so we could go through - in detail - the influences and triggers in his childhood and early adulthood.

I recommend reading the first in the series Richard Ramirez: Family Background.

Word Count: 2576

Richard’s mother and sister recall him as being a quiet baby. His sister Ruth treated him as though he was her own child, she would dress him up like a doll: ‘He was particularly good looking, with a well-formed face and big, round, long-lashed eyes. As with his fathers and brothers, his hands and feet were large’. - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The Night Stalker by Philip Carlo. She’d bring him everywhere with her and would talk to him in both Spanish and English so he would be somewhat prepared when he started school. His mother noted his love of a music from an early age, if the radio was playing he would move his head and feet in time at a very young baby. 

During this time Joseph had had around fifteen operations. Even though these operations mostly took place in the summer holidays so he wouldn’t miss school he still missed large chunks of his education. He was in hospital for such long periods of time that he started to miss school dearly but he didn’t complain.

At this point all the siblings apart from Richard were in school however Ruben was starting to struggle in school. Not because he did not understand - he was of average intelligence - but it was because he argued with other children and teachers. His report cards stated that he was a behavioural problem and was put into the ‘slow’ class. When his father found out about his ‘problems’ he beat him with a water hose, it didn’t help at all. Joseph was a below-average student due to being in and out of hospital. Robert was moved to a class tailored to his needs - it had became apparent he suffered from learning disabilities. 

At 3 years old, 1963, Richard and his siblings saw their father lose his temper for the first time. He was working on the car outside the house and couldn’t fit the filter into the engine. It wouldn’t fit right and rather then taking a step back or giving it five minutes so he could calm down (anyone could get annoyed by something simple not going their way), he started to swear and shout but it escalated further then that. He repeatedly hit his head against the side of the house until blood started pour down his face. ‘”I’ve never seen anyone ever get so made,” Joseph said later. “He would just lose it totally. To see him doing that, making himself bleed and all - it was scary. When that happened, all the kids ran. My mom would stay out of his way totally. The funny thing was, he got more mad at objects than people.”’ - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The Night Stalker by Philip Carlo.

Robert was the third oldest of the siblings but he was the biggest, he was also the most relaxed, Ruben was rebellious and Joseph went along with pretty much everything, never really questioning his brothers. Ruth had all the good qualities of her brothers combined, she always helped Mercedes without being asked but could also play rough with her older brothers. She was often having pranks played on her but never took them to heart and would often quip back with clever pranks of her own. Still though, she clashed with Ruben. If she didn’t do as he said quickly he’d hit her and if it wasn’t for Joseph she would have been hit far more often. Later she said Richard would be the one to defend her, he loved his older sister more then anything and trusted her most of all. 

After eleven years of saving the family began looking for a new house, their current house wasn’t exactly big enough for seven people. The house was one-story, three bedrooms, a large kitchen,a driveway, a backyard but no garage. It was located on Ledo Street, in Lincoln or La Roca (The rock) because of the cemetery, Cordova, close by. 

Since Mercedes had gone back to work at Tony Lama’s - after they had been sued by a previous worker they now had ventilation equipment available - she needed a babysitter. She wanted a Mexican women so communication would be easier for her. Socorro was hired not long after to look after Richard unit Ruth and her brothers were back from school. Julian wasn’t around often since he was still laying tracks at the Santa Fe railroad. The further away he travelled the longer he was away. 

Richard’s mother said that he could keep himself entertained for hours on end. Whenever his siblings were busy at school he would come up with his own little games such as Cowboys-and-Indians, one neighbour even spoke to Mercedes saying that Richard was exhibiting odd behaviour in the front yard. He would pretend to shoot the air in front of him before running to the spot where he had ‘fired’ and would act as though he would have been shot with great drama. He would act out other scenarios too but a lot involved some huge drama and battle. 

Richard Muñoz Ramirez at age three on his first bike. He was a good child and able to amuse himself for hours on end. (Authors Collection) - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The Night Stalker by Philip Carlo.

One day when Richard’s parents and siblings were out he was left alone with Socorro. Socorro was watching television, not paying much attention to little Richard, this was a normal occurrence. He asked for her to put on the radio, he still adored music. The two-year-old asked for a further ten minutes yet he was told no so he took matters into his own hands. He went into his parents room where the radio sat on top of a large wooden dresser, using the open drawers as a kind of ladder he began to climb his way towards the radio. He made it to the third drawer but his weight caused the dresser to topple forward on top of him. It knocked him unconscious, creating a large gash on his forehead. Socorro pulled the dresser off of him and called Mercedes. She put a towel onto the gash, when Mercedes arrived they took him straight to the hospital. He had been unconscious for around fifteen minutes - being unconscious for at least that long is a sign of a brain injury. He had received a concussion and if he was to become dizzy or had problems with his equilibrium he should be taken back to hospital immediately. Thirty stitches were need to entirely close the wound, the scar was still visible once Richard was an adult.

Julian asked Mercedes to fire Sorocco and find a new babysitter. One that would be able to keep an eye on a restless child who could never sit still, someone who would able to pay a lot of attention to him for at least six hours a day, five days a week. She listened, fired Sorocco and the incident was never payed the slightest bit of attention again. 

Their father’s hopes of the American dream for his children were beginning to falter, Ruben’s ‘rebellions’ were becoming worse. Whenever it was just the children home and no babysitter was present Ruben would bring over his ‘Bad group of boys’ as Mercedes called them. They would sniff glue in the house, Ruth saw it but never told her parents or anyone else. If Ruben found out she ‘snitched’ he’d beat her, their parents weren’t around enough to protect her from his rage. 

A phone call from the police was Julian’s breaking point. Ruben, with his cousin Miguel and some of the other glue sniffers had been arrested in a stolen car. Julian picked up his eldest son from the police station in a rage that hadn’t been seen before. After working for so long at the Santa Fe railroad it seemed as though his temper was becoming more severe, like his father he was becoming withdrawn and no longer smiled as much. He was rarely home and when he was he would sit by himself, like he was brooding. Ledo street was in a good area of El Paso, it could sometimes be tough but the people their tried their best. They were hard-working Mexican-American first and second generation, all went to church often. Good people. Not many were arrested in that area, let alone in the Ramirez family. The Ramirez family may have been poor but none had ever been arrested, simply being arrested would be shameful for the Ramirezes. Julian slapped Ruben at the station, the moment they got back to the house he completely lost it. He beat him and beat him as Ruben begged him to stop. Ruben’s brothers and sister ran and hid where they could, Mercedes tried to stop are enraged husband but he ignored her. She prayed. 

Richard listened to his brothers cries of pain, his brother begging for his father to stop. Richard began to tremble in fear and cried.

Once it was over, the anger gone, Ruben was left battered and bruised. Julian had broken his vow to never commit violence against his own family but he justified it to himself, his son should never have been arrested. He made him swear not to steal and that he must stop being friends with the ‘glue-sniffing boys’. However whenever his father was gone he would just go back to his old ways. He grades continued to drop only adding fuel to the fire of his fathers anger.

Not long later Ruben broke into someones house. He was arrested again. He viewed it as some sort of hilarious joke with his friends. This crime was far more serious and Julian beat him even harder. Previously the beating was borderline abuse (in today’s standard it would have been abuse but back then it was ‘discipline’) this time the line was crossed completely. Mercedes tried to stop her husband’s blind rage but she couldn’t. Both Joseph and Robert had fled and hidden. Ruben was beaten senselessly. 

6 year old Richard once again overheard his older brothers desperate pleas, the cracks of the blows across his brother. He started to sob, terrified of his fathers rage and for Ruben, Ruth went to her little brother. She tried to calm him but when that didn’t work she just held her little brother Richie. 

Mercedes put herself between her husband and son, begging for him to stop this. She cried it was too much and had gone to far, this wasn’t discipline this was abuse. Julian did stop. He left the house and went to the nearest bar to drink, he rarely drank because he was a diabetic but he was angry. He didn’t come home until late that night.

Ruben still didn’t listen and still continued his rebellious escapades. 

It didn’t take Robert long to start sniffing glue, then Joseph started. Glue sniffing helped Joseph ignore the pain in his bones but he didn’t stick to it. He had seen his father’s anger and did not want to be on the receiving end of it. Robert however, was not deterred and he too started getting in trouble with the police. Both Ruben and Robert started fighting other kids and failing in school so they started to receive regular, severe beatings from their father. Even when he left, the family could feel his anger as if he was looming over them. 

One Saturday all the children were home except Ruben who was out playing some ball game somewhere down the street. With Joseph’s help, Julian was fixing the sink. Julian couldn’t get the drain to fit with the wall connection and began shouting and swearing. Joseph could sense the volcano starting to rumble so he considered getting out of there but if he did how angry would that make his father? Ruth and Richard were together and could hear their father shouting so they gave the kitchen a wide berth. After a while of shouting and cursing Julian started hitting himself in the head with a hammer, like the car incident, blood started to run down his face. Joseph reconsidered his options and left as quickly as possible. Robert, Ruth and Richard all hid and waited for their father to calm and when he did they acted as if it was forgotten, but they couldn't forget that, Ruth said she never forgot it. ‘“My father,” she said, “would get so mad at things that he’d lose it totally. He’d get more angry at objects like the sink than at people. It was scary. Richard, all wide-eyed and frightened, was there, and he saw the blood as my father hit himself.”‘ - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The Night Stalker by Philip Carlo.

The kids were close with one another, after all they were very close in age. The older brothers liked to pull pranks on Ruth. They never were malicious and they never bothered her, she often came back with her own pranks so it was all fun and games. Although Richard was quite protective of his older sister, he felt that some pranks went too far. Ruben and Robert would often hit Ruth to get some sort of reaction - as siblings do - but if Richard saw a mark being left on Ruth’s skin he would get between his older brothers and sister and would defend her, telling them to leave her alone. 

At 5 years old Richard went with Robert to the local park to find Ruth. Ruth was on a swing, in his excitement Richard ran to her not realising the danger of his action. She couldn’t stop her swing and it collided with a sickening thump into Richard’s head. Knocking him out cold. Robert carried him home hurriedly to their mother. She screamed when she saw her youngest child unconscious and bleeding from his head. He got his head stitched up at the hospital but the doctors said he would be alright. 

Ramirez at six in an El Paso playground where he was knocked out for several hours by a swing. (Authors collection) - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The Night Stalker by Philip Carlo.

Richard’s first day at school came and went. Both Ruth and Joseph stayed out of trouble and were doing okay in school. In contrast Ruben and Robert were failing miserably and fighting anyone they disagreed with. At this point Julian was away from his family for weeks at a time. He was disappointed with their progress, he wanted them to do well in school and have a shot at the ‘American Dream’. He had hoped one of his children would be famous one day.

Part 2 should be up soon, if you think I have any facts wrong message me.

 I have gotten my information from a range of articles, youtube videos such as Georgia Marie’s video on him, The Last Podcast on the Left’s two parter on him and Philip Carlos’ informative book ‘The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The Night Stalker’.

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Goner

[Gif credited to original poster, @zombiepenguin334​ , it just shows the dominance Dean would have in the bedroom.]

Warnings: Fluff, Pranks (including fake damage to a certain 67 Chevy Impala), some attempt at crack or comedy, language, kind of/sort of smut (Oral, orgasm denial, plus a daddy kink), rest is implied smut.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Sam pranks Dean, but Dean thinks the reader did it. But something tells Dean, she needs to be punished for her actions.

Word Count: 1,761

Mobile Masterlist

A/N: I started out smutty but then lost my smuttiness, don’t think I have it in me to make it explicitly smutty. Hopefully it was good enough.

a/n #2: All I can say is, think of the Simpson’s “I’m in Danger” meme it’ll be italics.

a/n #3: Named it after a song, lyrics are at the end. It’s just a few lines, I swear.

For @supernatural-jackles​ Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge

Prompts: “I’m laughing because you’re angry. I swear I didn’t do it!”, such a needy little thing, aren’t ya?, “I bet the neighbors know my name.”

~

“Perfect.” Sam mutters, applying another sticker on his brothers Impala.

To be fair, Dean started it with dying Sam’s hair neon pink by adding the die to his shampoo. Poor Sam had to go to a salon to remove it by dying his hair back to a reasonable color close to his original hair color. Now Sam has resorted to buying stickers, that you can easily remove, to make it look like his car was shot at and scratched. And it looked rather convincing.

Dean was going to be pissed. And pissed might be an understatement.

“Hey Sam,” Y/N says, entering the garage where Sam was adding flare by grabbing a knife and gun from the trunk and heading towards the unsuspecting Y/N. “Something just pinged, it sounds like the darkness but I’m not one hundred on – why are you handing me these?” she asks, as Sam hands her the items and runs.

“Sam!” she calls out after him but continues into the garage to investigate what the younger Winchester was up to. And sees the devastation done to Dean’s car.

“Sam,” she could hear Dean enter the garage.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” she mutters under her breath, as she scrambles to get rid of the knife and gun.

But when she turned and she sees the older Winchester enter, but hasn’t seen the catastrophe. Not until he’s right at his car.

“What the fuck?” she heard him say. “SAM!” He shouts. Tearing his throat up.

He turns and sees her holding a knife and gun, completely ignoring her shocked expression which, for some reason, turned into fearful laughter.

“I know what you’re thinking, but Dean, trust me, I didn’t do it.” she says, heart pounding in her chest.

“Why the, what the, you did this!?” he stammers. Veins bulge out of his head, clearly angry. She laughs even more.

“This isn’t funny, look at my car!” he yells.

“I know, I’m sorry, it wasn’t me I swear!” she laughs, sounding a lot like she’s crying.

“Quit laughing!” he shouts.

“I’m laughing because you are angry, I swear I didn’t do it!” she shouts. “Oh god, I’m in danger!” she adds, laughing harder.

Her laughter, caused tears streaming down her cheeks, her cheeks burned as the blood flow continued to rise, even her ears felt warm.

Confused he could just look at her, then back at the car. Then back at her.

Since Y/N joined the Winchester’s, it was at first just a protection duty. A horde of werewolves from a pack Y/N’s family nearly wiped out was out for revenge. So, the boys protected her, even hunted down a good number of the members of the pack. Even the wolves, and the brothers learned that though her family continued to hunt, she doesn’t.

She went to school, became a freelancing graphic designer and writer. She had a life, a normal apple pie life.

Then she heard her parents died on a hunt, a witch hunt, when an unusual spell took hold of her dad, taking him out slow and painful, her mom was poisoned by the witch.

She never believed in revenge, but when she learned of this, the thought of following her parents lingered. Then the brothers came. Rescued her, the werewolves and her came to a truce, and an agreement. No hunting humans, or her, they’ll live all happily ever after. Sam even recommended them Garth, and added reinforcement, called Garth up to be on the look out to help them out.

Ever since that odd encounter, the brothers and Y/N have been really close. Especially with Dean. She was exactly like him. More ways than some. She keeps him in check. And he’s her rock.

But something about the way she’s looking, the way she’s dressed, is effecting him.

Her short ripped jean shorts, showing her perfectly toned legs and thighs, a black fitted t-shirt sporting YouTube entertainment. Her favorite gaming channel being Achievement hunter. And wearing his many flannels. His black and white flannel. He remembered when he knew he lost it to her.

After a hunt, the boys were gone a week longer than planned, she was scared out of her wits about them. He found her sleeping in his bed with his flannel on. He didn’t fight it, argue it, nothing. Not when he saw the fresh wetness on her cheeks when he returned. He slept with her close to him, even he needed to be reminded she was there.

“You know,” Dean’s voice was low, a different kind of low. It made Y/N stop laughing dead in her tracks. “That wasn’t cool, maybe you need to be punished, little girl.” He says.

“Huh?” she breathes. Out of breath from laughing.

“Does, a certain, naughty little girl need a, hard, and heavy, pounding.” He continues.

Her pussy clenches around nothing at his words. Causing a breathy moan to escape.

“Oh fucking destroy me daddy.” She mutters.

“Car. Now.” He demanded.

She walks over to the front of the impala, trips over her feet a bit before making it to the car.

“As punishment, you don’t get to touch any of this.” He says, grabbing his dick, rubbing it even through the rough denim material. Causing her to whine.

“Lean back.” He demands.

Her ass on the hood, she sets her hands back to keep her upright as she leaned back further away from Dean. But Dean kept close to her.

He lightly brushes her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She squirms at his touch.

He slowly leans it, painfully slow. She can feel his hot breath on her lips. And his lips just barely touch when she found herself leaning in, needy. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder stopping her.

“Nah, uh, uh.” He says playfully. “Little girl’s being punished, remember.”

“But,” she says.

“You’ll get some, in time.” He says. His hands roam her body, slipping off the flannel. He tosses it aimlessly aside.

His hands go under her shirt. She can feel his warm, gentle touch on her stomach and sides as he guides the shirt up and over her head, and off her arms.

He lets in a deep breath, but comes out a growl when he exhales.

“Bedroom, now.” He growls.

Without hesitation she leads the way to Dean’s bedroom. Dean slams the door shut.

“Bed.” He orders. She lays her back on the bed, crawling back towards the head of the bed where her back is on the headboard.

His lips didn’t hesitate to make their way to hers in a needy kiss. His tongue teasing it’s way in, when her lips part enough his tongue claims hers, lips not leaving as their love is being poured ounce by ounce in the kiss.

His hands take hers, placing them over her head. He pulls away from the kiss.

“Keep them there.” He pants.

“Dean,” she whines. Squirming under him.

He works his belt off of his jeans, tying them around her wrists in away so he could have it tied above her head, unable to touch him.

His lips are back on hers in an instant, as he undresses her.

“So, fucking gorgeous.” He says in the kiss. She moans into his mouth.

He smirks. “Someone likes being praised.” He says. Making her smile as he pulls out of the kiss, pulling her shorts and panties away in one swoop.

His mouth is watering at the sight of her, and wastes no time. One flick of his tongue at her aching core, a strangled moan escapes her throat.

He knows when she’s close when her hips find a rhythm and she tries to get more friction with each thrust. Causing him to stop. This happens a few times.

“Dean, I fucking swear,” she growls, pleasure building in a state she’s never experienced before. “If you don’t fucking fuck me stupid, I’m not baking you anymore of my famous berry pie.” She threatens.

“Damn, such a needy little thing, aren’t ya?” Dean asks, with a smirk.

“I mean it, if you deny me an orgasm I’ll fucking murder you.” She growls.

“Sure you will.” He taunts.

“Watch me.” She adds.

Dean sheds his shirt before he continues his torture.

 Hot and sweaty under the sheets, they pant, still catching their breath after what seems like a pornographic marathon. But really it was just really intense orgasm after orgasm.

“Okay, who knew orgasm denial would grant me one killer orgasm.” She says. “I mean, I blacked out for a second there, it was that good.” She comments.

“Glad I was able to make you feel good.” Dean says, keeping his arm around her, holding her close. Feeling her place a gentle kiss on his chest.

The pair hear a groan out in the hall. Causing them to laugh.

“Something tells me he knows we did some things.” Dean says.

“Well yeah Dean, I bet the neighbors know my name now.” She says grinning. Making Dean laugh.

“Sweetheart, I bet everyone in China knows your name now.” He adds. Earning a cackle laugh in agreement.

After a longing pause, she sighs.

“Still with me sweetheart?” he asks.

“We did a thing, didn’t we? We’re now a thing?” she asked.

“I’m sure we can stop with the sneaking around, hiding and just admit that we have a thing for each other.” He says.

“Yeah, I was starting to wonder if we’d ever fess up?” she says.

“I’m sure we would have.” He said. “It’d either me doing something stupid, or us doing this. It would have been one of two ways.” He adds.

“Yep.” She says.

A yawn escaping her. “What do you wanna do tomorrow?” she slurs, as sleep is coming knocking.

“How about I take you out to dinner? And even another one of these nights just not so…”

“Pornographic.” She adds. Earning a chuckle from Dean.

“Yeah, that.” He says.

He places a loving kiss on her forehead, as he lets sleep take him in.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” He says.

“G’night Dean,” she says, yawning again. “Love you.” She adds.

He smiles, with a light chuckle so as to not jostle her. “Love you to baby.” He whispers.

As he brings her in tighter, she even helps by snuggling in more into his chest, as sleep takes them in.

 I can’t stop now, there’s no way out, I’m a goner. I’m falling fast, I’m gonna crash, I’m a goner. I am captivated by your treasure, and it’ll be this way now, forever. I’m a goner.

~

Dean tag list:

@pandazombie69​

@luci-in-trenchcoats​

@supernatural-jackles​

@becs-bunker​

@mlovesstories​

@winchesters-favorite-girl​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 09/30/2020

[gemstoneconstellations]

I’m Sorry I’m Nervous

Summary: First date jitters happen to everyone, even Red Riot.

Wordcount: 2800

A/N: This is a direct continuation of Hero By Another Name

“Okay, so I’ll…um, see you Friday,” Kirishima nervously chuckled in front of you, holding your hands as he stood in your doorway. 

You smile up at him. “Promise?”

He bent down and pressed his lips to yours. “I promise.” One more kiss turned into two, which turned into him with his arms tightly around your waist, your body pressed against the doorframe as he practically devoured you. Finally, the two of you said your  goodbyes, a little out of breath and flushed down to your necks. 

“We’re dating. We got a date on Friday,” Kirishima mumbled to himself as he got in the elevator, a dopey smile on his face. He threw a fist in the air, proud that he’d finally come out and said it. He needs to call Bakugo for saving his ass yet again. Who knew Bakugo was such a great wingman? Finally, Kirishima had made you his girl…his girlfriend. He hasn't felt like this in such a long time. Since, like, high school. His eyes went wide. He hasn't dated since high school! “Oh shit, we’re dating. I got a date this Friday.”

In a panic, he called the only Bakusquad member that knew the meaning of the word chill. “Hey dude, what’s up?” Sero answered lazily.

“Code Shitting Myself! I have a date on Friday!” Kirishima practically screamed into the phone as he rushed out of the elevator into the lobby, making a small woman who was entering at the same time jump back. 

Kirishima waved apologetically as he scurried away to possibly go bury himself somewhere. 

“Uh, congrats? Why are you panicking?”

“I don't know what I'm doing! What do people do for dates now?” He gripped at his hair, for all he knew, Netflix and Chill was the new norm!

“Bro,” Sero snorted at Kirishima’s distress; the red-head was overthinking the entire situation and Sero found it refreshingly funny.

“I haven't been on a date since high school, I don't know what a mature adult does for a first date. I’m not mature! I still watch cartoons in the morning on my days off!” That threw Sero over the edge; he bursted out into a fit of laughter, wheezing and coughing as he tried to compose himself.

After a solid five minutes, he was able to speak again. “Okay, relax dude. I’ll call the squad and we’ll brainstorm over some beer while Bakugo lectures us on the amount of sugar and calories we are putting in our bodies. Sounds good?”

“Yeah, yeah, that works.”

“You okay now?”

“Yeah….I have a girlfriend,” Kirishima let out a bashful giggle, looking back up to your apartment complex. 

“Good for you, bro. I’ll see you later.”

~

“I fucking told you extras. Pay up, assholes.”

The whole table groaned as everyone started slamming their money down on the table, Bakugo cackling unapologetically as he swept the pot of money over to him. “The hell? Guys?” Kirishima looked at them all, appalled. 

“We started making bets after you randomly became a junior firefighter,” Ashido frowned as she handed her money over to Bakugo, who snatched it from her and started counting it. 

Kirishima pouted; he didn't think it was that obvious. Ashido reached over, reading his mind and patting his arm. “Honey, we all know how considerate you are of other people but seriously? Yeah, we all saw it coming.”

Kaminari cut in, holding up a folded up piece of paper. “Alright, so I pulled up a list on the internet—” 

The whole table groaned, but Kaminari cleared his throat and spoke over their complaints. “I compiled a list of manly first dates and this is what I got.”

Sero swiped the paper from the electric blonde and glanced over it. “Museum? Does she like art?”

“Not all museums are just art. There is this really cool toy museum...” Kaminari took the paper back, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.

Ashido rolled her eyes. “Is she even into video games?”

The red-head only shrugged as he took a sip of beer. Honestly, he couldn’t really think of anything that you were interested in outside of work. “I don't know? She’s kind of a workaholic. Only thing she collects is…”

“She's a creepy mega-fan of his and covers her entire apartment in Red Riot merch,” Bakugo chimed in nonchalantly, still counting his money. All eyes were now on Kirishima, eyebrows raised.

“Moving on!” Kirishima launched his body across the table to grab the list, trying to change the subject.  “A picnic, that sounds nice.”

Sero shook his head. “Uh, you might have to go where there are no people. Both of you are still pretty popular and with that gossip rag around, you might attract a crowd.”  The note was passed to Ashido; it was probably best in her hands since she’s the only girl in this group.

Ashido took out a pen and started crossing things off. “So anything with crowds is probably out. That means no to sports games and amusement parks…” Kaminari started to pout as he watched so many of his ideas get crossed out.

“Cross off crappy pottery painting. That shit is for some old married couple, or ones with little kids.” Bakugo finally joined the conversation only to scoff at Kaminari. Seriously, pottery? Ashido nodded in agreement at what the ash blonde said, tapping her nose as she scribbled that out.

Kaminari threw his arms in the air. “Let’s just cross off all my ideas!”

“Rock-climbing would be cool. She had fun doing that while we were camping. Maybe we could go on a hike.” Kirishima tried to be the positive one of the group. That camping trip had really helped change your relationship; something outdoorsy might be good.

Sadly, Ashido waved him off and started giving her “girl advice”, which really sounded more like a lecture. “No. You need to do something together that you haven't done. The first date can set the tone for the entire relationship. Plus, rock-climbing is more of a third date activity. First dates are when you need to have lots of face-to-face conversations. You are getting to know each other in a romantic sense; rock climbing isn't going to give you a lot of opportunities to do that. Also, no sex or too much kissing. Focus on talking to her as a person so she doesnt think you’re only after her body.” Kirishima’s face instantly flared up at being called out like that. Damn, Ashido can pick up on the slightest hint of anything that is remotely romantic. If only she had put that much effort into her studies when they were in school.

“Fine! All I got is one thing left. Tell me how that can go wrong so I can throw this stupid list away.” Kaminari was completely fed up, taking the list back and writing one more thing on it before thrusting it back into the center of the table. He crossed his arms as he slouched in his chair.

Ashido looked up at Bakugo and Sero, who both nodded with a look of surprise. “Actually….” 

“That’s not a bad idea. Good job, Dunce Face.” Bakugo waved over a waitress to order some wings for Kaminari as a reward for using so much brain power. 

“Wait, what? You guys like one of my ideas? Yes! And you guys doubted me. Just call me the love doctor from now on.” Kaminari leaned back in his chair, rubbing a finger under his nose as he bragged smuggly. Ashido reached over and pressed a finger to his forehead, causing him to fall back. “Fuck!”

~

“Miniature golf?” you questioned as the two of you walked up to the indoor miniature golf course. It was perfect. It was less in the open, they controlled the amount of people on the course, and with a little extra cash, the attendant held back on letting in more people so the two of you could have plenty of time alone together.

Kirishima cleared his throat nervously. “You don’t like it?”

You linked your fingers through his, shaking your head. “No, that’s not it. I just haven't done it in years.” His heart nearly launched into his throat. How do you do that so easily?

“Oh, I guess that means I'm a shoe-in to win, then?” Keeping his cool, he teased you as he pulled you into the building.

That competitive nature of yours came in full-throttle, jumping at the bait. “Is that a challenge I hear?”

Kirishima looked down at you, leaning in with a smirk on his face. “Yup. The winner decides where we go for dinner.”

You leaned in closer, whispering, “You’re on.” Oh, he wants to kiss you so bad right now.

After paying admission and slipping the teen a few more bills to keep the crowd away from the two of you, you were picking out what color club you wanted to use. Of course, Kirishima chose red. He was leaning back, watching you as you narrowed in on a neon green club. You bent down to see if it was a comfortable height for you and that's when he noticed the curve of your ass in those jeans. He felt himself totally zone out, leaning more heavily on his club when he stumbled.

You looked back at him as he straightened up. “You okay?”

“Yu-Yup! Go ahead to the first hole to save our spot. I changed my mind about what color to use.” He hid his now bent club behind his back, praying you wouldn’t notice or argue with him.

Lucky him, you nodded in agreement. “Oh, okay.”

Kirishima sighed in relief once you were out of view. He held up the bent club; the poor thing didn't have a chance under his weight. He held it up to the attendant, who saw the whole thing transpire. “I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for the damage.” He can already hear Mina telling him off. I told you not to think about sex or kissing too much! Focus on getting to know her! Easier said than done...

Now with a new club that was a darker shade of red in his hand, he met you at hole one. You were tossing one of your golf balls in the air as you waited. “Ready?” Your smile helped him forget the incident; he silently promised himself that he wouldn't embarrass himself anymore on this date so that you wouldn't regret going out with him.

Around the third hole, you were starting to giggle as he was about to take his shot. “What?”

“Just watching you play. Compared to you, everything on the course looks child-sized.” True, he is pretty bulky and it was even more apparent next to a mini-Eiffel Tower. He pulled back the club to take a swing. “You’re so big.”

His face instantly turned red and he lost his grip; his second golf club was sent spinning four courses away. You held both hands over your mouth, trying to contain your laughter. He glared at your shaking back. This was your fault this time. He sighed, his head down dejectedly as he started walking. “I’ll be right back.” 

Club retrieved, you continued to play. He was extra cautious with the club, making sure to keep a firm grip on it and his sanity. Why is he so nervous? This shouldn't be that big of a deal; the two of you had hung out before. You skipped beside him, spinning your club in your hand. “I’m winning by four strokes.”

Kirishima looked over the course; it was set up so if he hit a corner just right, he could get it in one stroke. After you tried but didn’t manage to get very close to the hole, he felt like he had this in the bag. Time to show off. “I’ll get a hole in one on this, just you watch. This is basic geometry. Bakugo tutored me for hours til I was a master of it.”

You giggled, stepping to the side as he set his ball up. He hit the ball…but he may have hit  a little too hard. Instead of just bouncing off the wall and going back towards the hole, it went into the air and straight for the small Great Wall of China. He rushed over to see the damage he’d caused now. “It’s stuck in the wall….I must have hit it too hard.” The ball was lodged inside the plaster and everytime Kirishima tried to get it out, more cracks formed. “I can’t get it out without wrecking it any more….”

“Pfft.” He looked back to glare at you. “This counts as a stroke.” Your competitive streak was showing and it was not playing nice. 

Before he could protest, you went to your ball and tapped it gently. You smirked at him triumphantly as it came within an inch of the hole. “Well look at that, I’m going to get a birdie.”

“So much for looking cool….” Kirishima sighed to himself for like the millionth time. You were kicking his butt at this while he was stumbling all over the place. What the hell? He’d played this before and he was never this bad.

“Last one, the windmill.” The final boss of miniature golf stood on top of a small hill, paper mache blades spinning slowly. Kirishima was taller than it but it felt like it was towering over him. He swallowed. 

“I’ll get this one no problem.” Kirishima pumped himself up, stepping up first. He watched the blades swinging around, waiting with the club in the air for the perfect moment. Quickly, he swung at the ball and it zipped through the air. It looked like it was going to make it. Finally!

RIIPP SHWOOP

“It went through the blade!” You dropped your club and ball to laugh as Kirishima rushed over in horror.

He scrambled over to look at the damage and find the ball but he noticed that it wasn't there. He looked behind the mill to see his ball coming out the back, rolling down the ramp all the way into the hole. He fist pumped the air, forgetting all about the other hole he’d caused. “Ha! See? Hole-in-one!” He pointed towards the hole and then leaned against the windmill, only for it to start tilting. “Oh, shit!” He caught it quickly and balanced it back out. Well, at least you were smiling as you crumpled to the ground laughing.

~

“That was fun, especially since I won by 10 strokes.” You stretch your arms up, taking in the fresh air after such a fun game. You turn to the side, expecting Kirishima to be standing beside you, only to see the street. He was behind you, dragging his feet out of the miniature golf facility, head held low. “Kirishima?”

“I’m sorry about all that back there. I was just so nervous that I kept messing things up and….causing destruction of property. Kind of messed up our first date, huh?” He walked up to you, eyes still downcast as he apologized for one of the best dates you’d ever had.

You reached out to him, gently taking hold of his hand. “Why were you so nervous? It’s not like we haven’t hung out like this before. If anyone should be nervous, it’s me. You already know all my dirty secrets in my apartment.” Maybe you should mention that you’d had Bakugo give you another “pep’” talk  about how you were being an idiot for panicking slightly before the date.

Kirishima sighed, taking both your hands in his and rubbing his thumbs across your fingers. “It’s our first date, pretty much the deciding factor of whether you want to stay with me. I didn't want you to think I was a waste of your time…” You tried not to laugh. How could he think spending any time with him could be a waste?

“It’s not over yet, right?” You let go of one of his hands, pulling him by the other. “The winner gets to pick dinner. I vote ordering take out and watching a movie at my place.”

He looked at you with a dazed look, completely confused as he let you pull him down the street towards home. You smile at him reassuringly. “For what it’s worth, I had fun. I always have fun with you.”

Kirishima’s face instantly lit up, his mood seeming to perk up. “Really? You dont regret it?”

You move your hand in his, making your fingers weave together. “I don't think I could ever regret being with you.” Honestly, you’ve never felt this happy before, and it’s all thanks to the red-head walking beside you.

He tightened his grip and smiled down at you sweetly, making you feel all gooey inside. “Same.”

[phobylee]

Okay. So this is really old. Was gonna be a roadtrip au I guess but I never got around to finish it. Gonna post it here before I forget about it forever. Maybe I'll finish it one day..

___________

At least a week of planning had gone into this. It was a trip Ford had been planning for a little while now, taking the time to jot down various locations they'd be passing through, maybe even a gift shop or two for Stan's sake. It was going to be long, so they'd drive in shifts. All Stan knew was that they'd be going back to Jersey to see Sherman, who recently moved back up there to "revisit old memories", according to him.

Everything was going great. Stan was busy packing the car, stuffing a cooler of food into the trunk, along with other luggage. Ford insisted they bring protection, claiming you could "never be too safe", which Stan had a hard time arguing with. He knew the dangers of the world first hand, tasted blood and nails, chewed and spat his way out of nearly dying plenty of times. Ford was being prepared, and that was completely understandable. Well, it would have been if the stuff didn't keep coming.

"Ford," Stan murmured, watching Ford drag a box toward the car, "don't y'think we've got enough stuff packed in here already?"

"Nonsense," Ford replied, hoisting the heavy box into the trunk anyway. It just barely fit, snug between the suitcases and the cooler, not too far from various other supplies they might've needed.

Stan was starting to see how this would become an issue, especially if they found souvenirs. He wanted to stop by a few stores and get something for the niblings (though he'd have to put them up for a bit).

"You're gonna weigh the poor girl down with all the junk you're bringing, Sixer." Stan complained, but he shut the trunk and headed to the front anyway.

As Ford slipped into the passenger seat, map and notes in hand, he passed Stan a glance and shook his head. "So, this will take around 40 or so hours. Almost two days of driving, and I've got everything planned out.. So we'll stop by.."

Stan tuned out after that, trying to find a station on the radio that wasn't complete garbage. Ford continued to blabber about all the landmarks they'd be seeing: monuments, statues, even a museum. With all the stops they'd be making, this might as well be a week's trip, and it would be expensive. He'd rather at least be a little surprised when Ford dragged him through the woods to visit some alien graveyard or something.

It took Stan a while to realize that Ford was still talking. He found some lone rock channel and turned it up, high enough to drown out some of the yap.

"Stan--?" Ford groaned over the music, trying to make himself heard. That didn't work. Stan just turned it up more. He caught the hint and pushed himself against the seat, looking toward the window.

Stan slowly turned down the radio with a smirk, not even looking as he began to back out of the driveway. "Don't you know about surprise at all? You're telling me everything we're gonna see. I'd rather you give me the directions and lemme figure it out for myself."

Ford gave a disappointed huff and continued staring out the window, a map clenched within his fingers. This was fine. He wasn't upset right now.

As they drove down that old gravel road, heads lolling up and down from the potholes and rocks, Stan found the quiet was a bit much. Sure, it killed the headache that buzzed in his ears, but it was unlike Ford to stay quiet an entire trip. And he wasn't the only one, because not a moment too soon--

"Alright, just listen, Stan," Ford piped up, "I've taken this exact trip once before, almost. The way I planned the route will be like a trip down memory lane. We can stop by the-"

"Nope."

"It'll just be a-"

"Stop it, Sixer."

"We can stop by the museum of rocks and minerals. I know how much you like gold and precious metals, and they've got that. I don't want you stealing anything. We go through the gift shop, you get a mug or a bobblehead or something-,"

"Ugh..."

"And then we're back on the road." Ford concluded with a bright smile, but it faded when Stan didn't return it. He didn't know why Stan was so... agitated. Lately he'd been more and more upset, and sometimes he even murmured things to himself in his fits of frustration. It was like he was trying to calm someone down? It was concerning, but whenever he asked about it, his brother claimed it was nothing and ended the conversation right there.

"I say surprise me, and what do you do? The opposite. You do the complete opposite, Ford." Stan sneered, trying his best to focus on the road. He hadn't noticed just how Ford blanched, or how his face paled and he clammed up and bit his tongue.

"Sorry, Stan," Ford murmured, attention back on the window.

_

They had arrived at their first stop in about an hour. It was a museum, though it wasn't as big and as fancy as most. Instead, it was small and quaint looking, somewhat resembling a house.

Ford had squished himself against the door, so unbuckling was a bit awkward, but soon he was up and on his feet. He held the door open with his free hand and stretched, looking at Stan.

The other man was silent.

As Stan lifted himself from the bench and stood, closing the door behind him, he made his way tiredly to Ford. He was seemingly already exhausted, but they had only been driving for an hour.

"Stan, are you okay? You look like you might faint.."

"I'm fine," Stan growled testily, gritting his teeth with a shake of his head. That angry expression flickered into a smile so fast, it shouldn't have even been humanly possible. He slung an arm around Ford, leaning against him. He was coming close to knocking the poor researcher over. Ford was a smidge taller, but Stan was always heavier, larger by body mass.

"I'm fine, Sixer.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad. Hey, this place looks nice. How's about we go ahead inside?"

Something was horribly off. Ford squinted suspiciously and nodded, trudging forward to the double doors with one of Stan's heavy arms still wrapped around his shoulder. It felt like a hug, one they shared a lot as kids when Stan was sticking up for him, but right now it felt so… odd. He didn't want to think about it.

Ford breezed through the doors, feeling the cool air hit his face. It felt wonderful inside, and it smelled nice too. The smell of iron and freshly-cut wood hit his nose, but it wasn't the rotten iron smell blood had. This was a nice place.

There were walls lined with ancient rocks, minerals, all shapes and sizes. Some made of magma or lava, others filled with crystals, and a few were shiny like glass. And from what he could see, they had a selection of fossils as well.

"We don't need a tour, do we?" Stan hummed, pulling his arm from around Ford. The sudden lack of warmth made Ford wince, but he ignored it in favor of staring at the rocks all around. "If we got a tour guide, you'd start fact checking him." Stan cackled.

The laugh was Stan's laugh, a tad bit wolfish and filled with rasp from years of drinking and smoking. Ford found comfort in the fact that Stan's laugh was his own and no one else's. He let himself relax even more, pinched shoulders loose and slack again. Yes, this was fine. He was just being paranoid.

__

"Don't tell me you're scared to drive, Ford," Stan snorted, thoroughly amused. Now it was his turn to relax, legs propped up with an elbow on the door. "Did they not have those herky-jerky space cars where you were?"

"They weren't 'herky-jerky'. At least they could actually run. How did you keep this thing going after all these years?" Ford huffed, gripping the wheel with both hands, shoulders pinched up to his ears. It had been ages since he'd even attempted to drive a car. Since his drive to Gravity Falls, he assumed. He was never an amazing driver, and with how nervous he looked, this would be no exception.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Stan rolled his eyes, snapping his seat belt tight. "Just try not to crash, alright? I'd rather not die before we get to Jersey."

And for a while it went like that. Stan yapped Ford's ears off, making mostly harmless, smart remarks while he continued driving like a cat out of water.

[xyzcekaden]

🚍 unsuspecting sunday afternoon 🚍

by me, xyzcekaden! a pokemon fanfic about when the one you hate to love is made for you

How capable is the human heart now?

fandom: pokemon, gen 3, advanced generation characters: ash, may, steven stone in a “supporting” role ship: advanceshipping genre: romance, angst themes: friendship, pre-relationship, slowburn, 6+1 if you squint setting: modern, hoenn, pokemon universe lite word count: 4.6k rating: T

read it below, on ffnet, or on ao3!

A/N (9.7.201): So this has been in my drafts since about April 2020 😅 Sure, I'm happy to finally share something new with the small yet strong advanceshipping fandom; but more than that, I'm relieved this document can no longer taunt me with its incompletion, hahaha. Do let me know what you think! Especially with this opening formatting; I'm trying something new. :)

Nothing sensitive in the fic, but the characters are all adults so it felt fitting to rate it T. Title taken from the song of the same name by the Backstreet Boys, and its lyrics/sentiments are interwoven throughout. The narrative is inspired and framed by monstaxnight's anonymous ask. If you recognise it, it doesn't belong to me. Thanks for reading!

~~~

fall for someone whose body would start fires

On a Saturday, May asked Ash to come over the next day. “I need a second opinion on something,” she had said. “It’ll be super quick.”

Of course, ‘super quick’ means Ash has enough time to set his switch up on May’s gigantic living room tv and play a few rounds of his favourite fighting video game while she gets ready for something or another in her room. He always acts like he has better things to do than help her with her sundry weekly ventures, but they both know he’d rather do ‘nothing’ with her than ‘something’ on his own somewhere else.

“Okay, Ash, are you ready?” May’s voice rings out. “Yeah,” he answers distractedly, strategically button smashing.

“So I kept the jeans from this last outfit, but this top I just got two weekends ago and haven’t had a chance to wear yet,” May narrates as she exits her room. “I had the, frankly, brilliant idea of using the jacket from Outfit 1 and pairing it with those heels you paid for for my birthday, et voila!”

The clacking of heels stops at the entrance of the hallway. “What do you think?’

Ash redirects his attention to May. His avatar dies on screen, just like his voice dies in his throat.

“You, um, you look great.”

In actuality, May looks smoking hot, but that’s not new for either of them. His best friend is supremely attractive, and he knew it and had no problem acknowledging it normally. This time, however, May doesn’t just look physically great, she also looks like she feels like she looks great. He doesn’t know how much sense that makes; but there is decidedly something different, and Ash feels a strange sense of dread in his chest.

May beams, taking the inarticulate response in stride. “Well that’s a winning endorsement if I ever heard one! Now let’s just hope Steven has as great of a reaction.” She turns to one of the many full-length mirrors stationed around her condo and reviews the outfit with a critical eye.

This brings Ash out from his stupor. “‘Steven’?” he repeats as he sits up on the couch. “You’re going on a date?”

“It’s not a date,” May replies in a tone that clearly conveys that she would not be opposed to it turning into a date. “My dad is having dinner with an old business partner, and the guy’s bringing his son along, so me and Max were invited, too. We were kinda friends back when we were young, but it’s not like we’ve kept in touch or anything. I just figured I should make a good second first-impression… You know, for my dad’s sake.”

Ash can tell the last bit was just something she’s telling herself to rationalise why she’s trying so hard, and it doesn’t sit right with him. He slinks back down on the couch dejectedly and halfheartedly starts a new game.

He finds himself wondering how often they hung out and how much whatever-that-number-was-teenth impressions were worth. He hopes it’s a lot.

~~~

fall for someone who always runs from his kiss

“… And I was right! They were roommates!” May boisterously ends her story, almost losing her ice cream to physics as she wildly gesticulates.

They’re just strolling around the park that’s honestly nowhere near either of their apartments; but over the years, it became their park anyway. They didn’t even set plans to hang out today, but it kinda just happened―a recurring theme in their friendship, admittedly.

For his part, Ash hides a smirk with a lick to his own ice cream, not bothering to say or do anything to protect her treat. If she hasn’t learned by now, she never would. “Oh my god, they were roommates,” he deadpans instead.

May sends him an unimpressed smirk and lightly smacks Ash’s shoulder. He yelps. She yanks her hand back as soon as she realises, but the damage is done.

He blinks down at the cold, vanilla, rainbow-sprinkled stain before raising his gaze to meet May’s equally stunned one.

They stare in silence for a moment, then May cracks a conciliatory grin. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry?”

He shrugs it off easily. “I probably deserved it,” he says, making peace with the knowledge that his previous unwillingness to protect her ice cream from any accidents is the undoubted origin for his current poor luck. He nods toward the path. “Shall we?”

“We passed by a restroom a little bit ago. We can clean you up,” May disagrees, tugging on his arm in the opposite direction.

“‘S fine,” he argues as he tries to continue walking forward.

“Ash, it’ll stain!” She tugs harder.

“It’ll be an improvement!” He’s overpowering her, but not as easily as he’d like.

“Why are you being such a butthead about this!?” She’s pulling with all her strength now, this being a matter of pride to her at this point.

“Come on, May!” Ash heaves one last time.

They tumble head over feet onto the ground, but that’s not the reason Ash feels like his world has turned upside down.

May’s body weighs comfortably on his, his hands naturally settle on her waist with hers on his chest, and his brown eyes bore into her blues. Their ice cream has fallen… somewhere, but Ash doesn’t concern himself with that considering this is the closest they’ve been since they first met.

They’ve been toeing this line since then, too.

I’m gonna do it, he thinks to himself.

He closes his eyes.

He leans in.

May scrambles away.

Ash sits up and blinks at the sight of May’s confused, furious eyes. “Ash, what are you doing?” Her voice croaks like her throat is dry. It makes him clear his own before dumbly responding, “I was trying to kiss you.”

“Why??” she asks, her voice strangled. He pushes himself off the ground warily as he watches her hold herself, bite her lip, shake her head in a panic; and somehow in all of that, he understands.

“I thought it wasn’t a date.” Ash tries so hard not to sound accusatory, but her wince in response proves it didn’t work. It also proves his fear correct.

He turns, hiding as if the people walking by could discern his transgression and shame by the sight of his face alone. Besides, his mind can conjure up an image of her running away just fine on its own.

Ash notices the remnants of their impromptu outing splattered on the ground near his feet. He picks up what he can and stomps over to the nearest trash bin, throwing it in as hard as he can to let out some of his frustration.

He hopes he hasn’t gone and screwed everything up.

~~~

fall for someone whose lips belong to someone else

They don’t talk about it, and then it’s too late.

“Ash, this is Steven,” she tells him softly, as if it could make up for how it feels like the sight of her arms wrapped around the guy’s torso and his arm casually thrown over her shoulder assaults him every time he blinks.

“Steven Stone. It’s great to finally meet you. May speaks of you highly,” Steven introduces with a dignified air. Not pompous, no; he is just someone who was raised being told that he was going to do important things and who happened to believe it.

They shake hands, and Ash’s fingers feel cold, a marked contrast to how there’s something in his chest that’s burning.

Inside the restaurant, the waitress asks if a table is okay, and no one asks for a booth instead. In his seat, Ash is neither directly in between nor directly across from the newly-established couple, and he wonders if this is where all his luck went into.

Lunch goes better than expected.

Ash was prepared to hate the guy, but what is there to hate? Steven has a decent sense of humour, loves pokemon but loves rocks even more, and is COO of the biggest enterprise in Hoenn. He is a safe, sensible choice. This guy isn’t going to break May’s heart.

As the meal winds down, Steven offers to pay for everyone; but Ash still has his pride. In the end, he manages to negotiate paying for just his own plate and drink, knowing he has no right to battle for the privilege of paying for May’s.

He wouldn’t even do so on a typical occasion anyway; but as far as Ash is concerned, Steven’s presence throws all of the friends’ typical rules of engagement out the window.

They say goodbye and part ways in front of the restaurant.

A few steps later, Ash snaps his fingers as he recalls something. He turns around to remind May of their movie plans in a few days, and he is met with the sight of the couple sharing a sweet kiss on the corner while waiting for the light to change.

Steven could never break May’s heart, but he sure can break Ash’s.

Ash turns back and continues walking. He hopes May can remember on her own.

~~~

fall for someone whose touch is way too much

May insists that nothing has changed between them, but clearly something has because Ash doesn’t remember ever being so anxious about her proximity before.

He had always been aware of her, though. Always. When your first meeting is saving the other from getting run over by a tour bus, you quickly develop the habit of keeping track of where the person is at all times.

Between his athleticism and her natural proclivity towards tactileness, casual physical exchanges quickly became their norm: hugs and high fives, friendly elbows in the rib after a good joke and sharing a blanket as they watch a movie, (lingering touches on the shoulder and holding hands even after they’ve escaped a crowd… or did he make those up?).

They were controlled yet unmistakably affectionate markers of their relationship.

But now?

When she shifts one centimetre closer to him in line at the mall food court, he accidentally overpays by fifty pokeyen out of distraction. When she grabs his fork out of his hand to try a piece of his takoyaki, he jerks so hard at the contact that he spills his soft drink all over the table. When she pats him dry using flimsy food court napkins with a joke about ice cream in her voice and fondness in her eyes, he needs to claim a rapid-onset fever in order to give himself an excuse to cut their lunch short immediately.

These innocent touches have been an ever-present facet of their friendship since basically the beginning; and even when he realised he was in love, they hadn’t affected him like this.

Things are different now, despite what she says.

Well, maybe not things; maybe just him.

He had allowed himself to revel in their familiar touches when she was single because he could, because there was no one else that she was supposed to be able to make feel like this. Even if the feeling wasn’t meant for him, it wasn’t meant for anyone else either.

But now.

He can’t, in good conscience, allow his heart to rush and his smile to form and his hand to squeeze back. It wouldn’t be fair to May, not when she’s trusting him with her friendship and he’s taking more from her than that.

Even though he’d like nothing else than to keep that closeness, to go back to how it was between them before, this is the way it has to be now. He just hopes she can understand.

~~~

fall for someone he doesn’t want to feel for

On sleepless nights, he wonders when.

He knows the who, what, why, and how; but the when eludes him.

...

They were both breathing heavy, attention focused on the spot of the road where the girl would have flattened like a pancake if it weren’t for his quick reflexes and hero complex.

The clapping of a few passers-by snapped them out of their shock and into the realisation that he still had her protectively cradled to his chest.

They quickly broke apart, and he took the time to wave off the praise from the gathered crowd while she checked her purse to see if everything was inside.

“You got everything?” he asked after people’s attentions finally turned back towards their own lives.

“Yeah, I do,” the girl replied, and her voice was rather cheery considering the ordeal she just survived. (He would later learn that was her default.)

“Great,” he said, genuine yet awkward.

They continued staring at each other. The adrenaline from their brush with danger hadn’t worn off yet; his heart was still beating very fast.

“So, um, have a good day,” he bade after it was clear neither of them had anything more to say. He made to return to his errands, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“You saved my life, and you’re just gonna walk away?” she asked incredulously.

He blinked at her. “I’ll be honest; I wasn’t aware there was an after-action protocol for this sort of situation.”

She was incredulous for only a second before she giggled at him. “The least I can do is buy you lunch to say ‘thank you.’”

“Well, I’ve never turned down a free meal,” he accepts with a grin.

She giggled again then stuck out her hand. “My name’s May.”

“Ash.”

...

No, it wasn’t then. Nor was it during the meal they shared, nor at the bar where they happened to see each other that weekend, nor while they were escaping from the bar fight that she accidentally instigated that night.

...

“Is this going to become a running gag? Will I have to constantly be saving you from trouble you unintentionally get yourself into?” Ash panted after he directed her to duck into a nearby alley.

“Hey, as far as I’m concerned, this automatically makes me the most interesting friend you’ve got,” May countered.

He took one extra second to check no one was following them then cut a glance at her. “I don’t know about you, but most of my friends have my number.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Smooth.” They switched phones and exchanged numbers.

“Better memorize that by heart,” he jested as he handed her her phone back. “Don’t wanna waste your one phone call at the station just because you mixed up the last two digits by accident.”

“If the next time you hear from me is because I went and got myself arrested, just leave me to rot. I must have earned it,” she smirked.

...

Luckily, the next time one of them reached out to the other wasn’t to bail the former out of jail. May invited him to a pool party for her birthday, where he handily won a water balloon fight and impressed everyone by fixing the grill for their barbeque. Their friendship continued to progress naturally: movie nights that turned into impromptu sleepovers, brunches that turned into walks around town. Several shopping trips and video games and hikes later, they were each other’s best friends. It was basically inevitable.

So when? When would he have had the chance to fall in love with her?

...

“Hello?”

“Ash, you picked up!” she sounded surprised―happy, but surprised―and he winced. He knew he’d been blowing her off a little more often lately, but making her think he’d turn down her phone call?

“Heh, yeah, sorry about that,” he said, betting on the hope that she somehow implicitly understood everything he was apologising for. “Is everything okay?”

For an extended second, she was quiet, then she said, “I need to tell you something.”

His hackles rose, and he started grabbing his keys and putting on his shoes. Maybe she finally ended up in jail. “Where are you? I can be there in ten minutes, maybe twenty with traffic―”

She giggled, and he paused. That was her nervous giggle. “May?” he asked, still wary but not about to race out of his house with only his boxers on.

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just… Steven told me he loves me.”

His breath left his lungs.

“And I told him I love him back,” she continued.

All the adrenaline that had surged through his body only moments before completely left him at her words, and his limbs locked up instead. He felt cold.

“Hello?”

He didn’t even realise he had sunk to his knees until he meant to take a step back towards the couch. He just slumped onto his butt. “That’s―” He had to clear his throat. “That’s gotta be recent.”

He could slap himself. He sounded as dead as he felt. He tried again: “I mean, that’s great news, May! He’s a lucky guy. Yeah.”

She sighed with relief. Could Steven tell what her sighs meant over the phone? ”I’m the lucky one, I think,” she said happily, and that was his last straw.

“Heh, yeah, well,” he sputtered out, just to have something to say. “Listen, since you’re not in danger or anything, uh, you actually caught me at a bad time, so I gotta go. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

“Wait, Ash! Before you go!”

He held back a sigh. “What’s up, May?”

“It’s just… You’re right; it is recent. You’re actually the first person I told.”

“I’m honoured.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm that spilled out, but he backtracked quickly. “I mean it. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course, Ash; I tell you everything. At this point, it’s like I have to; nothing would ever feel real otherwise.”

He shut his eyes. He really couldn’t take this anymore. “I know what you mean. Same here.”

She made a cute sound, a quiet little ‘hmm,’ and that was when the first tear spilled out. “Alright, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll text you later!!” she promised.

“Later,” he repeated, both an echo and a goodbye; and finally, blissfully, he ended the call.

...

When, when, when?!

That was supposed to be one of the sweetest moments of her young adult life, and she called on him―trusted him, even―to be happy for her. When did he get to the point where he couldn’t even do that? Instead, he recalls it now as he struggles to fall asleep, playing the memory at half-speed over and over again in his imagination, and all he does is hope.

He desperately hopes it’ll stop hurting so much.

~~~

fall for someone with the sweetest rebel heart

When he finds out he didn’t get the promotion he was vying for at work, there’s no one else’s comfort he sought but May’s.

“I’m sorry that happened, Ash,” May soothes as she rubs rhythmic circles into Ash’s back. They’re in her condo, noticeably nicer maintained than Ash’s flat, side by side on the sofa. It is the first time he’s let her touch him in weeks, and he really needs it. “At least now they know you’re interested? It might be your turn next time.”

Ash snorts but nods anyway. He’s usually the type to look at the bright side, but it would be an understatement to say that he is simply disappointed. After all the L’s he’s been taking in his personal life, he had been hoping at least something would go his way professionally.

May continues, “Just make sure not to let this setback actually set you back. Keep putting your best foot forward, and I know you’ll win those guys over… just like you did with me!” She ends with a wink, trying her hardest to inject some levity into the situation.

Just like that, Ash’s mood sours even more. “You can’t say that to me, May,” he angrily replies as he shuffles out of her hold.

“What are you talking about?” she pouts as she feebly tries to get him to lay back against the couch so that the cold air can’t get under the blanket they are sharing.

“I didn’t ‘win you over,’ clearly.” He shrugs off her touch and scoots away. He has spent so long trying to keep his bitterness inside, but he doesn’t have the emotional wherewithal to regulate himself right now. He’s tired of trying to get over things that make him upset.

May frowns, the furrow between her brow getting deeper as she sits up straight on the sofa. “Ash, why are you talking like that? I meant, like, how we became friends, obviously. I didn’t grow to love you by accident.”

Ash stands then, balling the blanket up and throwing it back on the couch. “I bet Steven wouldn’t be too happy to hear you say that.”

She follows suit, her voice elevating in volume as if to match. “I bet Steven wouldn’t appreciate being judged by someone who’s only met him once―despite my efforts otherwise, might I add.”

“I bet Steven would love to hear his girlfriend say she loves another guy.”

“I bet Steven isn’t dumb enough to think I can’t love you both.”

“You don’t love me, May!” Ash finally explodes.

He has never raised his voice like this, not to her, but he’s tired. He’s tired of loving someone he can’t have, he’s tired of hating himself for it, and he’s tired of the guilt when he takes it out on her despite all his attempts not to.

She looks like she’s torn between yelling right back or kicking him out; and before she could make up her mind, he collects himself enough so he could bring his voice down. He states simply, “Not the way you love Steven.” Not the way I love you.

He doesn’t say it, but he can tell she hears it anyway. He clears his throat and turns around, trying to hide without running away. “Hearts don’t work like that,” he murmurs into the room.

He makes to leave, but May’s hand on his shoulder stops him. She forcibly turns him back to face her, and Ash is shocked at the determined set to her face. Her eyes, bluer than a water stone and twice as powerful, hold him as captive as they always have. “You listen to me, Ash Ketchum.” Her tone brokers no argument. “If you thought for a second that I stopped loving you because I fell in love with Steven, you clearly underestimated what my heart is capable of.”

Her grip on him tightens, as if making sure he is still with her in the moment. “It’s big enough for the both of you; and if that’s not the way hearts are supposed to work, then I’ll just be the exception that proves the rule.”

She pulls him into a hug then, like locking that promise between them, and he dares let himself hope she means that.

~~~

fall for someone whose heart needs sewing up

Ash wasn’t expecting a knock on his door this late at night, and he definitely wasn’t expecting to see a beautifully made up May Maple standing in the hallway, mascara-tinged tears and runny nose notwithstanding.

"Steven is moving to Alola to support Devon Corp’s expansion," is all she said, but even that much is hard to make out through her watery voice.

The news sinks in, and Ash’s heart feels like someone moved it three centimetres to the left: still there, still functional, but not at all where he needs it to be.

"You’ve always talked about going to Alola," is the only way he could respond, thinking of all the times they’ve imagined taking a week off and vacationing in the tropical region. He won’t, can’t let himself think about anything else or else he’d break down.

In his heartbreak, he cannot recognise May's tears, which are too raw and too loud to be that of someone bearing regrettable news. These are the tears of a confused, broken heart.

"Ash, I'm not going," she sniffles, still stiffly standing outside his door. "He asked me not to."

Finally understanding that he misunderstood, Ash is even more disoriented than he was before. "Why would he do that?" he asks, obviously still trying to wrap his mind around what the hell was happening.

"I don’t know!" May yells while clenching her fists and stomping a high-heeled foot. It is the most movement she's made since he opened the door. "I demanded a reason, and he spewed nonsense at me! He said―" and she stops. Her whole body slumps back into stillness but without the stiffness of before. She continues quietly, "He said he didn’t want to see what I’d look like with my heart so far outside of my chest," like a guilty confession. Ash is at once reminded of their almost-fight a month ago, and he still isn’t sure what this all means.

He almost asks, Why wouldn’t he believe your heart was right where you were? or How capable is the human heart now? but he doesn’t.

Instead, he finally welcomes May inside. He sits her on the couch and helps her take off her heels before she wraps herself up in the blanket he keeps there―a blanket he only has, he remembers, because when she first visited his apartment, she insisted his couch needed one. She doesn’t just hold the blanket around her shoulders; she hides her entire frame within its folds. He merely sits on the couch next to the lump and places a solitary hand on top, unsure where it was resting yet hoping it is providing comfort nevertheless.

He wonders if May ever let Steven see her like this, the way she needs to shut out all stimuli as if to physically recreate her darkest moments. He wonders why he loves that she does that, even though it causes him so much selfish pain to be close enough to see her like this but shut out from her healing.

"I don’t think I have a boyfriend anymore," May says at length, voice dampened by the space and fabric between them.

It would have been the happiest news of Ash’s adult life if it weren’t for the extreme melancholy that laced her tone as she said it out loud.

He squeezes his hand into a fist on top of the blanket, his signal that he’d like to hug her if he could.

"I would have missed you if you left." Ash gives a nonsequitur-confession in response. May burrows deeper into the blankets and says nothing.

Instead, she reaches a hand out from a heretofore unseen opening in the fabric and holds on to his other hand tightly.

Ash stares at her slender knuckles, made paler from her firm grasp, and stops hoping.

He gently plies her fingers from his palm and tries not to feel guilty about the shocked, embarrassed way the hand pulls back into the blanket as he leaves her there.

The love of his life needs compassion right now. This is not his opportunity to sweep her off her feet; this is not his second chance.

He returns from the bedroom, settles back into his place on the couch, and forces May out of the blanket.

~~~

May jerks her head up, shocked and angry and still embarrassed from her rejected attempt to seek Ash’s comfort, but she is quickly mollified into confusion. The expected sight of Ash’s lit up form in his lit up living room ends up being no different from the blackness from which she thought she was rudely taken.

It is so dark under the extra, larger blanket that she can’t even see Ash’s nose even though she can sense his head is mere inches from hers.

His hands find hers in the darkness and squeeze. Relief flashes through her as she finally surrenders to the deep, thick slice of heartbreak.

May wants to see his face, but she settles for a hug.

[crayonwriting]

Angel Eyes

(Javier Pena x Reader)

So, this was inspired by a song of the same title by Abba. I love Mamma Mia (the first and the second one) even though the timelines don't match. I think Javi would fit this description very well. I’m not really confident with how I wrote this. I might rewrite this in the future but I just had to get this out. Hope you’ll all still like it, though. Tell me what you think.

It was a hectic shift at the hospital and you knew you needed to let loose. You and Connie agreed to go to the bar tonight and have a few drinks. She was bringing Elisa Alvarez, the new nurse, along to get to know her. 

You were just halfway through your first beer when a voice called out to your group from behind. You didn’t have to turn around because in an instant Steve was there beside your table. 

“Honey.” He leaned and gave Connie a chaste kiss. “Didn’t think you guys were the drinking kind.”

“Oh please, if you have Y/N as a best friend, every night is a drinking night.” She smirked.

“Hey. I consider that a compliment.” You lifted your bottle to Steve. “What are you doing here?” You asked. “Are you alone? You can sit with us. Elisa’s new.” You gestured to her. Steve politely introduced himself and they shook hands. 

“It was a rough day at work.” Steve shrugged. “And I’m not alone.” He pointed to the middle of the bar, you turned, and there sat Javier Peña, downing a glass of whiskey. 

Your breath caught in your throat and you turned back to your group. The grip you had on your bottle tightened. You haven’t seen Javi since you broke up months ago. You avoided him at all costs but seeing as your best friend is his partner’s wife, then you should’ve known it was inevitable.

Steve seemed to notice the sight tension in the air. “Alright, I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He gave Connie a quick kiss before leaving. Connie looked at you sympathetically and offered a small smile. 

"Sorry 'bout that."

You dismissed her with your hand and said that it was nothing. The conversation within your group continued and the topic of Javier was temporarily gone. That is until you noticed Elisa wasn't focused on your group anymore. 

When you looked at her, she had her gaze pointed past you, towards the other end of the bar—exactly where Steve and Javi sat. 

"Oh my god." You turned back to Elisa who kept glancing to where Steve and Javi sat. "Just a fair warning, he's not worth it." 

Elisa's gaze turned to you as a small smile was plastered on her face from looking at him from across the bar.

"What do you mean?" She asked. Connie chuckled softly and told her that Javi was not just an old friend of yours. It took her a moment before she finally got it. 

"Oooh." Her eyes grew wide in realisation. You brushed off her comment while taking another swig at your beer.

"As I said, he's not worth it."

"What happened?" Elisa asked. 

"Here we go again." Connie playfully mumbled as she took a sip of her own drink. You flicked a ketchup packet towards her.

"What is that supposed to mean, huh?" You said with mirth. "It's a good thing that Elisa knows about it. I'm actually doing her a favour." 

"Is he that bad?"

"It depends on what you consider as 'bad'" You finished off your beer, raising it up towards the bar, asking for another. Turning back to your friends, you continued. "Don't be deceived by his macho demeanour. That's how he overpowers you. And," you raised a finger to prove your point, "Never look into his eyes."

Elisa chuckled. "His eyes?"

"Yes. Oh god, one look to his eyes and you're dead. He'll have you wrapped around his finger! And before you know it, he's gone. You're gonna be left crying and alone." You took a huge gulp from your drink once more.

Connie was chuckling to herself as you ranted about your failed relationship with the agent. She saw how you were not over Javi and based on what Steve tells her, Javi is still hung up on you as well. You just don’t know it. 

"While I was walking home last night, I saw him with a girl. And he had the look." You widened your eyes and wiggled your eyebrows in emphasis. "The same look he gave me and I suddenly got chills. I just wanted to run up and tell her to escape while she could." You pointed to her. "Poor girl." 

You finished your second beer for the night and you were starting to feel dizzy. But the reminder of Javier Peña made you want to drink more, and the fact that he was there in the same bar you were in was not helping. You stood up from your seat and ordered two shots of tequila which you downed almost immediately.  Feeling the alcohol burn in your throat made you feel better.

—

"Easy there, Y/N. C'mon, one foot first." Connie urged as you tried your best to get into the car. You've had one too many and now you were completely wasted. You were being held up by Steve and Javi. The four of you were headed home. They had offered Elisa a ride but she refused, saying that she lived just nearby. 

"Connie…,” you grumbled. “The world is spinning!” You giggled a little before falling over the backseat of the car.

“I’ll sit with her.” She said to the two men. She got on and helped you sit up. You leaned on the glass window, already feeling the pounding headache.

“I’ll think I’ll walk home,” Javi said instantly. 

“What? We live in the same building.” Steve argued. “Stop being irrational. Get in the car.” Javi sighed. He shook his head and mumbled, ‘fuck’, before getting in the front seat. Just as Steve started the car, he turned to his partner. “Do you know where she lives?” 

Javier looked at Steve quietly. Steve knew about their relationship so, why was he asking these questions now? Of course, he knew where you lived. He’s memorised every single thing about you. Forgetting you was like trying to forget his own name. 

Javi glanced at Connie in the backseat, who was pre-occupied with you, before returning his gaze to Steve. “Yeah.” He mumbled and looked forward. Steve smirked to himself and the four of you were off.

The car ride was silent, except for Javi giving directions to Steve. You kept mumbling and groaning about how your head is killing you and the urge to puke was strong. But then, you grew quiet.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Connie put a hand on your shoulder. “Do you want to pull over and get some air?”

You stared at her with tear-filled eyes. You sniffed and ungraciously wiped your nose with your forearm.

“Connie,” you started. “I miss him. I miss Javi.”

The car suddenly seemed small and all three of them looked at each other. Javier sat up straighter and looked out the window. How he wished he could jump off the car right now. Connie cleared her throat to say something but you cut her off.

“I know I kept telling Elisa about Javi and how she-she shouldn’t look at his eyes and oh! Connie!” You scooted closer to her and lay your head across her lap. “Javi has angel eyes. No wonder everyone falls for him.” You let out a few tears before continuing, “I miss him, Connie. And I still love him. So much.” Connie glanced at Javier who was as still as a rock.

“Shh, Y/N. Get some sleep.” She urged. You continued to sniffle and cry silently before you fell asleep.

It took only a few more minutes before they finally reached your house. Steve stopped in front of it and turned the engine off. The three of them stayed silent with no one uttering a word. Javi felt uneasy with hearing your confession and he didn’t actually know what to do right now. He felt the same way but he also knew that you were drunk right now and won’t remember most of what you’ve just said. 

He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. He looked at you, sleeping peacefully and his heart swelled. He looked at Steve who gave him a look that said, ‘Don’t fuck up this time.’

“I’ll take her inside.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. With all the gentleness he could muster, he carried you in his arms, careful not to jostle you awake. Connie and Steve helped and got the door open—with Javi telling them that there was a spare key hidden by the second potted plant to the left. They all got inside and helped you to bed. 

Connie and Steve left the room, leaving you and Javi alone. He pulled the sheets to protect your body from the cold. He brushed your hair away from your face. He felt guilty for doing what he did and in no way was it right, no matter the circumstances. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way and he’d been kicking himself about it since then.

“Javi…”

He tensed at the sound of your voice. You sighed before your breath evened out again. Even in your dreams, you were still thinking of him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. He let out a breath and looked at your sleeping form.

“I’m going to make things right with you, Y/N.”

—

permanent tag: @awkwardfangirl2014​

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