#if i just disappear sometimes and poke my head in to reblog its probably the shark

[aka-indulgence]

It be like that sometimes

[jaylver]

WEBS OF HURT — S.JY

synopsis: Falling for your best friend wasn't on your check list for high school. As if that wasn't enough to break your heart, his odd behaviour only added fuel to the fire along with a new crush of his. Who knew that odd behaviour would soon turn into a secret truth that you'd discover after his valiant effort of hiding.

pairings: spiderman!jake x afab!reader

genre: best friends to lovers, unrequited love, miscommunications, spiderman au, angst, romance, fluff

warning(s): profanities, mentions of alcohol, party, violence, injury

wc: 10k

a/n: tried something new! a little birthday gift from me <3 please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

Falling in love with your guy best friend was probably the worst thing ever to experience when it came to girlhood.

High school should be fun, right? Being a teenager should be fun, right? Well, that wasn't exactly the case when you found yourself feeling more than just a mere liking towards Jake Sim, the guy best friend you mentioned and was entirely, love sickeningly, in love with. 

Jake Sim was the first guy you actually built a solid friendship with. It first started when he sat beside you in calculus, then you realised you had more classes with him and a friendship eventually developed when you started acknowledging each other. One class together soon turned into years spent with one another. You knew his family and he knew yours. Nothing could ever break the bond between you and him.

You just couldn't help but notice a slight change in him after the death of his uncle, Ben. At first, you figured it might've been grief, trying your best to offer your utmost support. But as months flew by, the oddness persisted. He would disappear in between classes, sometimes standing you up at places you were at together and returning a little scathed, making it up to you by promising for a redo hang out. All of that was weird. Let's not get started on the fact he caught your stuff falling way too many times, even when his head was faced away, his hand would reach out first. In his words, he called it his 'spidey sense', whatever that meant.

However, you never doubted him. He was still the best friend you had, even if he had some tweaks to him. You never once questioned him or brought up your suspicions, but this time, you couldn't help yourself from bombarding him with questions when he broke the news to you.

"I think I have a crush," Jake announced the moment he was in your presence, sounding a little out of breath considering he made a run to the cafeteria. The tray of food was untouched, quite unlike him since he always dug into his food first.

"You 'think'?" You hummed, ignoring the mixed feelings you had blaring loudly. 

"Okay, I know I have a crush," he has yet to start eating, just staring expectantly at you, eyebrows furrowed at the nonchalant and dismissiveness in your tone. 

"You're being for real?" You finally turned your head to meet his eyes, placing your fork down. 

"I am! I think it's kinda crazy," his eyes twinkled, something quite rare but only you knew, like a comet in the sky. 

"Who is it?"

"Gwen,"

"Gwen? Gwen Stacy?" You swallowed back a frown that was itching to make its way to your lips, masking it with your best shot of shock instead of disappointment. Of course it was the golden girl, what a cliche plot.

He nodded, a small smile rested on his face as he started digging into his food. "We … talked? Talked about some science things, about Oscorp, about the things she's working on. Oh yeah, she said there's this party on Saturday and wondered if I wanted to go, I said I wanted to bring a friend and she's cool with it,"

"I assume I'm that friend, then?" You poked at your food, suddenly losing your appetite as the conversation progressed.

"No, it's Carlos—of course it's you, dumbass," he flicked at your forehead, earning a firm scowl from you. "You're my best friend, my only ever, I'd be insane to think otherwise,"

You chewed at your lips, not because you were contemplating whether you should or shouldn't go, but it was mainly due to the word 'best friend' that got your attention. There goes your hope down the drain. First, being told your best friend who you have a crush on already has his eyes on someone else, then, getting friendzoned by that same exact guy, all in one shot. It's brutal out here.

"So what do you say?" Jake's voice broke the momentary silence, noticing your dazed expression. You snapped out of it almost immediately.

"I'll go,"

"Really?"

"Do you want me to say no instead …?" You raised an eyebrow, watching him scrambling at your words.

"N–no! I'm just shocked and very glad you agreed to come," he managed a laugh, which turned into a smile. 

"Am I going to get ditched that night because you want to get your dick wet?"

Jake scrunched his face up in a look of disgust. "Can you not? I don't need you to say that. And no, I'm not going to ditch you,"

"I'm holding you to it."

Jake shot you a wink, earning a figuratively loud eye roll from you. His laughter filled your ears, and though you managed a smile, you found yourself feeling the opposite internally. You knew you shouldn't feel this way, it's not like you were even in a relationship with him in the first place. But God, why did it hurt so bad?

Who told you friends to lovers was cool when it was unrequited and one sided all along.

"You know, you look good either way,"

Jake Sim was sitting on the edge of your bed watching you put on makeup and getting ready. It was a few hours before the party and Jake had turned up looking nervous, wearing that lucky graphic tee of his that you recognised quickly. Your teasing definitely didn't make him smile, and you soon realised that the crush he had was actually serious.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow despite feeling the giddiness from the effects of his nonchalant words. He has to stop that. "Are you trying to butter me up to get me to move quicker?"

"Whaaat? No way. You genuinely look good whether or not you have makeup on, seriously," he was genuine, you could tell, but you knew him better than anything. It was quite a fatal flaw.

"Give me ten minutes to finish the other eye then we can leave."

At that, Jake sighed in relief and fell back onto your bed, kicking his legs patiently. He couldn't stop talking about the party and the people who'd be there, but honestly, you could tell he was just trying to not bring up Gwen at any given moment. Knowing that, you wished the mascara wand would just poke into your eye, maybe it'd hurt less compared to how your heart felt.

"Does my shirt look lame—"

"Dude, shut up," just before you and Jake entered the house, he was asking for another reassurance. First, it was his hair, then his shoes, and every other piece of clothing, leaving his shirt for last. It took everything in you to not punch him along the way there. "I swear, no one will care. If anything, isn't that your lucky shirt?"

"It is my lucky shirt. But whether or not that lucky shirt looks good, that's the case," he glanced down at his graphic shirt, a picture of a rock band from the 2000s staring back at him.

"Trust me, if it's ugly, I would've asked you to change, now shut up and get your ass in there before I leave you here," you huffed and continued walking, hearing him mutter something before catching up with you. 

Upon entering the house, you figured it was as underwhelming as you expected. The smell of sweat and flavoured smoke filled the air, high school students lingered around as the music blasted. You should've probably stayed home.

"So, you got your pick up lines ready?" You thrusted a cup of fruit punch into his hands, tilting your head in question. 

Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid Google has failed me on that one," he looked around the room, shoulders tense.

"Calm down, big guy. You're acting like you're being hunted down. She's not that scary," you patted his shoulders as he took a swig out of his cup.

"Not scary? Says the one without a crush,"

How ironic.

You brushed it off, finding yourself taking a big gulp as well. He was oblivious and you were just stupid. Stupidly in love with your best friend who has his eyes set on another girl. Perfect.

"I think I see her," you followed his line of sight, spotting a blonde in the midst of the crowd almost immediately. She made her way through, parting the mass with a certain grace to her aura. 

Jake looked back at you, a mix of conflict written in his features. You read him well, too well. You offered a smile. "Go, go talk to her. Just text me when you're leaving, okay? You said you're not going to ditch me,"

"I won't," he laughed, but there was a certainty in his tone. 

"Then go, what are you waiting for? I'm expecting a whole loads of information by the end of the night," you gave him a slight push, but you could see the small reluctance he had. "Go!" Off he went into the crowds and gravitated towards her. 

You couldn't bear to witness it all, watching him leaning down as she laughed into his ear. The feeling of bitter jealously coursed through your veins, it was evil, so evil, but you couldn't help it. At the end, you had to remind yourself, he wasn't yours in the first place. He wasn't yours to lose.

Turning your back to them, you sat alone in a stranger's kitchen and fought off the temptation of getting drunk. Instead, you indulged in the leftover pizzas left on the counter, letting a random girl join you and overshare secrets. Wallowing in self pity was probably not what you had in store for the night.

Almost as fast as you had arrived, it was already past midnight in a blink of an eye. You realised your curfew was around the corner and it was time to signal Jake to leave too. Glancing at your phone, you were surprised to see zero messages from your best friend. Weird.

You stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, seeing a bunch of people passed out at the oddest spots, only a few still awake. One of them was surprisingly Gwen, the goody two shoes you had in mind was actually staying up past your curfew. You heaved a distressed yet exasperated sigh, walking towards her. 

"Hey, Gwen," you hoped she remembered you, considering you were in the same Chemistry class as her.

"Oh, hey. Y/N, right?" She flashed you a sweet smile, and it was painful to know how likeable and nice she was. You couldn't even bring yourself to hate her. 

"Right. Sorry for interrupting, but have you seen Jake around? The last time I saw him was with you," you unknowingly chewed on your bottom lip anxiously, taking the frown on her lips as a bad sign.

"He left," that was the least expected thing you anticipated as a response.

"He … left?" You repeated incredulously, almost as if she hadn't made it clear enough for you.

"Yeah, he suddenly said he needed to leave … in the middle of our conversation. An emergency or something. Kinda weird but kinda cute," she laughed, but you were holding back a disdainful scowl, reserved for both Jake and her, but most specifically Jake Sim. "Why? Were you with him?"

You bit back an immediate reply. As much as you wanted to say 'yes', you didn't want to blow off his chance either. "No, just … checking. He said he was coming tonight,"

"Oh, I see," 

"Yeah," you nodded rather stiffly and awkwardly. "I'll get going now, thanks,"

"See ya, Y/N. Until our next class," she gave you a salute, a melodious laugh escaping her lips.

You couldn't resist a smile either, saluting her back. There was a charm to her that affected people, it was understandable that Jake was charmed, but you hated to know that, and you did not want to understand it. For now, he was dead to you, just like how he has left you to yourself in the middle of a party at midnight. Was he Cinderella? Glad to know you weren't the only one who he pulled the disappearing act on. 

Clutching onto your jacket tight, you cursed every cuss words there were under your breath, all of which were dedicated to Jake. He had the audacity to leave without even leaving you a text, and that got you walking home in the dangerous night of New York City. Thanks a fucking lot. To say you were seething was an understatement.

You hated the streets of New York especially at night. To prove your hatred further, you just had to be at threat of an armed robbery there and then. 

"Hey! You there!" A dark figure approached from a distance, pointing at you. Oh God. "Got some money on you?" This couldn't be happening. 

"N–no," you said quietly, backing up quickly. His footsteps thundered loudly against the pavement, seemingly getting closer. 

"Don't lie, I see that purse on you,"

"I'm a broke high school student, leave me alone!" Was it sad to say that you were yelling the brutal truth to him?

"I don't care. Give me your purse—" his threat almost had you running in the opposite direction, but his sentence was never finished. Instead, a sharp unfamiliar noise shot through the silence, and a second figure in the distance appeared. That wasn't his partner, right?

Panic coursed through you, and yelling out was most likely the worst idea you had in ages. "Hello?" 

Silence. 

"Hello? Can I leave now?" 

"Yeah, you can," the figure walked under the lamp post, revealing himself. 

Spiderman? 

Clad in red and a mask over his head, he stepped towards you ever so casually, whereas you stood there absolutely stunned to even move. It wasn't an everyday occurance where you could personally meet the hero in flesh. The media might've painted him as some criminal, but to you and many other citizens, you knew that wasn't the truth.

"Spiderman," you greeted, anxiety lowered knowing you weren't getting robbed now. "Thanks for—that," you waved in the direction of where the man originally was.

"No worries," you noticed his voice seemed familiar, but before you could think more about it, he spoke with a sudden deeper octave. "It's—uh—not safe out here. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Well, for starters, my friend left me at a party that we were supposed to leave together without telling me, and now I'm walking home alone, until I almost got robbed," it was clear that anger and bitterness laced your voice, a deep frown etched on your face as you told Spiderman your concerns.

"Sorry," his voice became lighter, somehow sincere, which made you tilt your head in question. "I–I mean, sorry that he did that to you," he cleared his throat, straightening his spine and returning back to that deep voice. 

"I don't know what's up with him. He could've left me a text," 

He muttered something inaudible under his breath, then turned his focus back on you. "I'm sure he's very sorry, and maybe he's got a reason too. Try hearing him out,"

"I will. I always do. I'm just hurt, it's complicated," 

"What? What do you mean complicated?"

You shrugged, hugging your purse close to your chest. "It's nothing. I don't think Spiderman will be interested in my matters with my best friend. I'll leave you to your hero stuff and head home now. Thanks for saving me and the 20 dollars in my wallet,"

"Well—I—wait," before you could fully turn around and leave, his hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. "Let me walk you home. It's not safe,"

"Wouldn't it be weird if I turned up at my apartment lobby with Spiderman?" You crossed your arm, making quite a fair point. 

"You're right. What about I give you a swing?"

"What?"

Swinging around New York City was definitely an unforgettable but scary experience. You clung onto Spiderman, screaming like a madwoman as he had his arm wrapped around your waist. The touch was as familiar as his voice, hard to put a finger on but almost feeling like you've known him for years. 

You were about to point out your apartment but he had already beat you to it, not even needing you to tell you which floor or window it was, landing on the fire escape right in front of your bedroom window. That just further proved your familiarity towards him. 

He pulled your window open, signalling you to head in, but you were stuck staring at him, both in shock from the swing and the way he knew your place. 

"How did you—"

"Bye! Goodnight!"

You watched as he avoided your question and shot a web out to swing to some other building, leaving you stunned. How were you going to recover from this?

10/10 experience. Spiderman might just be your casual crush to get away from the thoughts of Jake. 

'BREAKING NEWS: bank robbery in downtown last night caused a chaotic and frantic disturbance, luckily, Spiderman was there to save the day and catch the robbers before anything major happened. Is he really as bad as they make him to be?'

The news of Spiderman saving a bank from a robbery right before your personal near robbery experience had you amused. The videos of him beating up the robbers and using his webs to tie them up were going viral all over the internet, even people in school were talking about it.

You were standing at your locker, digging for some textbooks before class started when Jake Sim himself appeared beside you. His presence was announced before he even spoke, but you didn't bother to spare him a glance.

"Y/N, I'm so so sorry about last night," he was heaving in breaths, as if he had ran across the school to find you, maybe he did.

"Oh, were you?" You clicked your tongue, suddenly finding the random piece of paper in your locker fascinating. 

"I am. Seriously, Y/N. I know I'm an asshole for that, I'm sorry for not texting you earlier and letting you know—"

"Jake, this isn't the first time you bailed on me," you cut him off, slamming your locker door close and turning to face him. The bruise beside his right eye caught your attention, and suddenly, your anger seemed to have sizzled away. "What the hell happened to your eye?"

It has become a common practice by now apparently. Jake disappearing and turning up with some kind of injury. Like always, he just brushed you off. "It's nothing, don't worry. It's not about me, it's about you. I fucked up this time and I know it, I'm sorry. An emergency with Aunt May came up a–and I had to go home early, I was too caught up in the moment to let you know. I'm sorry, really,"

You considered his apology for a moment. He was sincere, you knew that, but there was a certain dishonesty to his explanation. However, you didn't want to press on further either. "I understand. You probably always have a reason, it's just that I hate it when you disappear on me without telling me. I almost got robbed last night!"

It took him almost a few seconds to register, then another few more to compute a reaction. "What? Are you okay?"

"I'm standing here, aren't I? Spiderman saved my ass," 

"Spiderman?"

"Yeah, Spiderman. That guy who swings around New York. He saved me from some guy that was about rob me, because someone over here decided to leave early,"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm just glad you're alright," 

"Well, thank fuck I am," you crossed your arms, staring pointedly at Jake. 

He dug something out of his backpack, a paper bag of some sort materialized in his hand. "I got you some of your favourite cookies and donuts. As a form of apology,"

You took the bag from him, glancing between him and it. "You can't just buy your way into an apology,"

"You accepted it, you took the bag," 

You rolled your eyes, unable to bite back. "Whatever," you reached in for a cookie and started walking away from your locker, hearing Jake scurrying to join your side.

"So, we're cool?"

You took a brief glance at him, taking a bite out of your cookie. "We are,"

Jake wasn't fully convinced, however. He knew you and your patterns, and he definitely knew which tricks to pull to make it better. "How about I treat you to some Chinese food tonight?"

That piqued your interest, an eyebrow raised at his question. "The one downtown?"

"That one,"

"You sure know how to get on my good side, Sim," you nudged his side, falling into one of his tricks once again. "Too well,"

"I know my ways to get to your heart, don't underestimate me," he said in a lighthearted tone, but God, you wished he would actually find his way into your heart. "Anyway, how was—uh—Spiderman, last night? Excusing your near robbery experience," he winced at the last part, though in reality, the accident hadn't shaken you as much as he had thought.

"He was nice! A little awkward but I kinda get it. He swung me back to my place, which was weird because he knew which window and level it was," you pursed your lips in deep thought, failed to realise the widened eyes from Jake and the panic that filled them.

"M–maybe, it was a wild guess," he said shakily.

"Wild guess? Don't bullshit me, Sim. A smart guy like you would know it's hard to do so," you waved him off, continuing to venture into your theories.

"Maybe he has some kind of sixth sense," he laughed rather stiffly, earning a suspicious narrowed stare from you. 

"Okay, big head, quit acting so weird. Let's just get calculus over with and then stop by that ice cream place after school, what do you say?" 

Jake's shoulders visibly relaxed, a sense of relief overtook his features. What was that about? "Sure. My treat,"

"God, Sim, you have to stop treating me or else I'll fall in love with you," you joked, even as it came out lighthearted, it was filled with a painful truth that you kept as a secret.

"Then fall in love with me."

You froze, almost unblinking. Something so intimate yet controversial had left his lips like it was nothing. It was probably nothing to him, maybe a mere joke even, considering how he let out a small laugh and smiled at your reaction. You tried to pretend it was nothing, but it wasn't nothing, not to you. 

For a second, you wished you weren't already in love with Jake.

Trying to be happy for your best friend shouldn't be hard, but why were you struggling with it so much?

First, you were literally in love with him. Yes, you've come to the conclusion that you 'L' word him, the big 'L'. Seeing him list out the things Gwen likes and hates reminded you of yourself knowing him equally that much too, which only pained you more than it reassured you. Second, he has been hanging out with her more. Not that you were completely friendless and have no one to hang with, but Jake was Jake, he was your best friend, and losing your best friend was the worst thing to happen. 

You didn't lose him, no, but it felt like you had. He barely made time for you, being caught up with Gwen, dates and school work, how could he not manage to squeeze you in there? You've always made time for him no matter what the occasion was, so knowing he didn't do the same for you just had you dying internally. 

It was a quiet evening in New York. The sun had just set and you were walking home from grabbing an early dinner alone. This time around, you were smarter than the previous round. Armed with pepper spray and a pocket knife, you prayed on a shooting star that an unfortunate incident would never ever happen once more. 

You were practically in your own world to even realise or hear footsteps approaching you from behind. By the time you did, your fight or flight mode was activated, almost throwing out a punch, just to freeze upon figuring out who it actually was. Spiderman.

"Walking home alone?" He kept up with your pace as you recovered from a momentary fright.

"Stalking me?" You wondered how he even spotted you in the first place. In the big city of New York, he's coincidentally strolling down the same street as you? As if. "Scared me, you know? Thought it was another round of getting robbed,"

"I'd be there to fight them off if that happens," he said with utmost confidence that it had you laughing a little, shaking your head in disbelief. Why did he remind you of Jake? It's a sign you should stop thinking so much about him.

"Really? I kinda doubt it. Unless you're keeping an eye on me or something, stalker," you teased him, egging him on further. 

"I'm not stalking you," his tone gave away the withering confidence of his. You smiled, feeling his lingering gaze on your face. Maybe it was just your mind that's overthinking, but his mannerisms reminded you too much of your best friend. It was in the way he walked, talked and how he normally did this thing where he walked with you and cast glances at you from time to time. Every little detail that you wished you couldn't list out was a part of the city's hero. 

He cleared his throat, straightening his back, trying to rebuild that confidence he originally carried. "So … how are things between you and your friend?"

"The one that stood me up at the party?"

He choked a little, but regardless, he nodded his head. "Y–yeah,"

You couldn't hold in a sigh from escaping your lips. Just thinking about Jake had you huffing in frustration. Spiderman picked up on it, shifting slightly beside you. "I guess not … good? Haven't seen him much and he hasn't been bothering to hang out with me anymore. I mean, I get he's making moves but why can't he just manage a little time for me? Maybe I'm too selfish but—" he's not mine anyway. You bite your tongue, holding back what you really wanted to say. 

The hero beside you was silent for a bit, as if walking on eggshells and picking the best words to say. "I think he'd come around," he said slowly, "he'd say a couple of sorrys, and you should tell him what's on your mind. Let him know. He'll understand," 

You chewed on your bottom lips, considering the possibilities, but totally also not expecting to get advice from the Spiderman like it was some counselling session. "I know he'll listen. He always does. But I don't want anything to change between us,"

"Nothing will change," he said with a kind of certainty that even you didn't doubt. How did he know? Who was he to judge? You didn't say anything, but just nodded. You knew Jake wasn't the type to argue nor take your words lightly, but you shudder at the thought of a confrontation, not that it was your first with him, but it felt much more emotional this time.

"I hope so. I miss him—oh, my place is around the corner, I can manage myself," you stopped before a turn around the corner, Spiderman following suit. 

Standing before him only increased your curiosity about his identity. Who was he? He was hiding under a mask that shielded his face, but something about him seemed less foreign than expected. 

"O–oh, then I guess I should get away too. Swing around the city and see whose ass to beat," he laughed awkwardly, a hand automatically reaching for the back of his neck, just like something Jake would do too. You shook that thought away. "Goodnight … stranger,"

"It's Y/N," you didn't hesitate to tell him your name, he saved your life, a little information about yourself wouldn't hurt despite him being a total stranger still. "Goodnight, spider boy."

You turned around the corner, leaving the hero standing there, bewildered and helpless. It was hard to ignore the pit in your stomach that carved deeper and deeper. He reminded you too much of your best friend, and strangely, that was probably the reason why you felt gradually attached to him, a stranger that resembled the ghost of a guy you liked but couldn't have. 

The space of your apartment was dark and soulless once you stepped into it. Your parents worked late as always, meaning you were alone most of the time, and this was one of them. Maybe it was the atmosphere and the countless wishful thinking, but a sense of despair knocked on the door of your heart. 

By the end of the night, you laid awake in bed thinking about what Spiderman had said. Nothing will change. That was exactly what you wished for too, that your dynamic with Jake was never to change, but how was that to happen when he's got a girl around? Eventually, you're not just going to lose the guy you loved, but your best friend as a whole.

Your train wreck of thoughts were interrupted the moment you heard a knock on your window. That knock turned into a tune that you knew too well. Sitting up straight in bed, you spotted the figure standing by your window out on the fire escape. Jake. 

At this point, you weren't even going to figure out how he got up this high on the fire escape. It was one too many times of him avoiding your question and you ended up dropping the matter too. Yet, curiosity itched your mind. 

Unamused at the fact that he turned up at possibly the wrong timing, you dragged your legs over to the window, meeting his bashful gaze. He offered a crooked grin, but your narrowed eyes only shot it back into a frown.

"Explain to me why you're here? It's midnight, Aunt May would be worried about you," your window was opened now, but you stood in the way before he could climb through, an interrogative look of yours stared at him accusingly.

"I told her I'd be over at yours," he answered cheekily. "Just like the old times, eh?"

Judging from your unbudging stance and eyes practically shooting lazers, Jake knew he had struck a nerve that have been left untreated for far too long. He sighed a defeated breath, squeezing through forcefully and dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

"I know," he didn't need to say much, yet he conveyed more than needed. "I've been a shitty best friend,"

It was your turn to sigh. You shook your head, averted your gaze to the ground and stepped aside, giving him more space. "You know a 'sorry' alone won't cut it this time,"

He followed your every movement, joining you to sit on the edge of your bed, a small space in between separated you and him. "I know. But I really am sorry, Y/N. I mean it,"

"I just want you to be honest with me, Jake. I know you're busy, I know you're trying to get the girl of your dreams or whatever, good for you, but it feels like you've forgotten about me or something,"

"I didn't forget about you. How could I ever?"

"Well, then stop acting like it! A text would suffice," you stood up, back facing him just so you could hide your face from him and the tears welling up in your eyes. 

"Y/N," he grabbed a hold of your wrist, cold fingers wrapped around your skin, his touch ever so gentle. "I'm sorry. I know I fucked up … many times, and a single 'sorry' wouldn't make up all the hurt I caused you, b–but there's a reason why,"

"What is it then?" You whirled around to face him, the dark of the room casted a shadow over his face, bringing out the fatigue and injury on his delicate features. "What the fuck, Jake? Are you hurt again?"

"It's nothing,"

"You said it's nothing every time you turned up hurt, and I never ask many questions, but Jake, it feels like you're hiding something from me," your hand reached up for his face, hovering over the bruises and mild cuts on his lips and skin. "I don't know you anymore,"

Jake moved his face away a little, grabbing that hand of yours which hovered over his face, lacing his fingers into yours, the rough surface of skin contrasting your soft touch. "I–I wish I could tell you what it is right now, Y/N, I really do, but it's not the right time. I need you to trust me, I need you to believe me, I don't want to hurt you,"

There was a moment of silence where you stood before him, hands intertwined with his, your hurtful gaze scanning his every feature that you knew too well. Jake never lied to you, you knew that, but why couldn't you fully trust him this time? There was a sense of truth and lie hidden behind his words, but you knew one thing, he was genuine. Yet, it wasn't enough. 

"Let me make it up to you. There's this carnival in the city tomorrow night, you and I, hang out, what do you say?" He tried offering a smile, which eventually turned uncertain. "We can spend the entire day together. Just you and me,"

"No bailing on me this time?"

"Promise,"

"You do?"

He held up your interlocked hands, then intertwined your's and his pinky fingers together, something you and him always did when it came to serious promises despite the childishness to the whole pinky promises thing. "Promise," he repeated. 

"I believe you, Jake. I always do, and I just don't want you to get yourself in danger, whatever it is that you're doing. Whenever you turn up bruised and beaten, I–I just feel helpless, and you push me away every time,"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking your interlocked hands and placing them on his chest, near to where his heart resided. "I promise to tell you the truth soon. I just need to be ready,"

"When you're ready," you gave his hand an affirming squeeze, a reassuring smile creeping up onto your lips. "Do you want to stay over?"

"I didn't turn up with a packed bag for nothing," he laughed, the air lightening up much more compared to earlier. "I'll sleep on the ground like always,"

Once you were done manoeuvring and setting up the sleeping bag for Jake, you were finally in bed for the second time that night, except now, you had Jake sleeping on the ground beside your bed. It wasn't a rare occasion having him sleep over, just maybe this time it was a tad bit more awkward given the situation you had earlier. 

"Jake," you spoke into the darkness, your eyes trained on that one spot on your ceiling. 

He hummed back in response. 

"Nothing has changed between us, right?"

A beat of silence, the whirring of your A/C was what remained. Then, he spoke. "No. Nothing's ever going to change. Nothing will change," 

It sounded familiar, the way he said it and the enunciation he had in every word. You shook it off, given the late night and a mushy brain, you didn't give it a second thought. 

"I'm glad. Goodnight, Jake."

"Goodnight."

Despite the reassurance from Jake, you descended into sleep with a pit in your gut. You could barely sleep with him next to you, thinking you could find a cure to every trouble that existed between you and him to fix it all. How could he say there'd be no changes when there's a bigger crack forming on your heart?

The next morning was like any other whenever Jake stayed over. An empty kitchen that allowed you to make some simple breakfast and after, you bid Jake goodbye for the moment before meeting him later on that day. 

Upon stepping into your room, you spotted a black lump sitting under the window. It was Jake's backpack. He was already long gone from your apartment by then. 

You advanced towards his backpack, held it up to move it somewhere else, but it only caused the contents inside to spill out. Knowing how clumsy Jake always was, you figured his backpack had been unzipped the entire time.

You glanced at the pile of mess littered on your floor, a clump of red catching your eyes amongst the rest. Curiosity got the best of you despite knowing you shouldn't pry, but the moment your fingers made contact with it, the question marks in your head increased by tenfold.

Spandex material. You pinched it at first, feeling the material against your skin, then you finally got the guts to hold it up entirely, revealing something far beyond expectations. 

Spiderman suit?

Was it a fake one? Jake could've always bought it from Amazon. You held it closer for inspection, noticing how it was worn out, slight tears on the bottoms. It couldn't be a fake, something in you knew. The dried blood stains on some spots gave it away. 

Everything made sense to you now. Jake being secretive, hiding the truth from you every time you asked, turning up hurt and disappearing at random times just for the news to report Spiderman's appearance after. All of them were finally connected in your head, and revelations about his suspiciousness were known by you.

It hit you. Jake was spiderman. Your best friend was that vigilante swinging around the city saving people and fighting crimes. He was the one who walked and swung you home. He always knew.

You let out a breath of disbelief, knees feeling weak and head spinning. How were you to shoulder the truth after this? Pretend like nothing's wrong when everything is wrong and weird. It was practically impossible to patch up the existing crack that continued to worsen. 

Shoving Jake's belongings back into the bag, you shouldered it and made your way to his place. Your mind was in a haze, the thought of him being Spiderman was hard to wrap around. Sometimes ignorance was genuinely bliss, you wished this was one of those times. 

You didn't know if it was a good or bad thing that Jake wasn't home when you turned up at his door, meeting a confused looking Aunt May instead. Apparently, Jake went out in search of his backpack that was currently in your hands, so you had no choice but to call him and wait for him to be back. 

How could you not have spotted it sooner? Now that you're in his bedroom for possibly the millionth time, everything seems clearer. The map of the city stuck on his wall which had random scribbles and locations circled in red marker ink stood out to you, the box of medicine and ointments sat on his bedside table that you frequently ignored. All the signs were presented before your eyes without your knowledge.

"Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting," Jake closed his bedroom door after almost half an hour of waiting for his appearance. His hair was dishevelled, clearly panicked and alarmed. 

"No, it's okay, we're supposed to meet up anyway," you sat up from lying on his bed, nodding at the backpack sitting on his desk. "Got your baby back,"

"Oh my God," he crossed the room with big steps and had zero hesitation when it came to unzipping it to check his belongings. "Did I leave it at your place?"

"You did," 

"Thought I left it out there somewhere," he murmured under his breath, then zipped the bag up. You knew why he was so secretive, and it made even more sense why he always brought it around. 

Jake most likely felt your wandering eyes on him judging from the way he spun around and shielded his bag from view, trying to divert your attention away. "Want to watch a movie?"

How could you possibly say no? That sly prick.

You didn't indulge in his suspicious behaviour further now that you were aware of his secret, though you pretended not to. He did say he would reveal it to you soon, but that 'soon' was quite unknown. At this point, you didn't know who was going to be the first one to reveal it. Either you or him.

You spent half of the day binging on movies, ate an early dinner and then walked to the carnival together. Along the way there, you couldn't stop yourself from taking quick glances at Jake. The street lights illuminated his features under the darkening sky, the loud chatter of the crowd drowned out and it was only him in your world. Even as he asked you questions, you blindly nodded to most of them. 

How could you not fall for him? He bought you drinks without question, won you prizes at those booths, held your hand as you walked through the crowds. It was as if Jake Sim himself was blind enough to not know what he was doing to you. 

"Enjoying the night?" Jake threw his arm around your shoulder ever so casually that it had you holding your breath for a minute.

"You won me a big bear, of course I am," you held onto the stuffed toy tightly, grinning at the memory of Jake winning during his first try. 

"What's next? Wanna stop by that art and craft booth then we go on the ferris wheel?" Jake definitely did know his way into your heart.

"Sounds good," 

You thought the night would eventually end with peace and quiet, but before it could even end, it had been ruined beyond belief. 

The big screen suddenly flashed to a news reporter, the background looking chaotic and people were fleeing. It was live news, the whole thing was happening as you breathed. You and Jake stood rooted, staring at the big screen just like many others did, listening in on the broadcast.

'Just in, a monstrous creature was seen terrorizing and climbing along the Oscorp building. It was spotted not long ago, but now it has disappeared into the building, its whereabouts unknown. Workers of Oscorp have fled the building, but not all of them, some were said to be present in the building until now.'

You glanced at Jake, a sinking feeling in your gut. It was a sour thought knowing he's about to get himself in danger yet again, but having him bailing once more cut deeper than a falling knife. As a human, you wanted him to save lives and the city. However, you were also his best friend, and you hated to be selfish, but you just wanted him to be there without having to leave every single moment.

The conflict in your eyes matched Jake's, who was evidently struggling with himself. You tried to mask it, yet hurt and sadness was hard to ignore or hide. 

"Oscorp … Gwen," the faint hush of a murmur was audible under his breath, causing you to cock your head at him.

"What?" 

"I–I, Y/N, I have an emergency," he removed his arm around you, the hold on his backpack strap tightened. 

"Jake," to scream at him? Let him leave? All of the above? You struggled with your emotions as you tried to understand and empathise, you always did, but couldn't you just have him this one time?

"I'm sorry …" his voice was weak, he knew how much pain and hurt he caused you, and retreating away from your disappointed face wasn't going to solve anything, just the problem downtown, but not the cracks that were forming right now.

"I know, Jake," you shouted when he was a distance away from you. He turned around, eyes widened and pupils blown, a mix of confusion and surprise painted his features. "I know about you,"

He was breathless, he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He left without a trace, and once again, you were left alone to fend for yourself. You wanted to understand, you do, but it was hard. 

You glanced at the big screen for one last time, uttering a silent curse under your breath, and decided to head to where the scene was. Crazy? Stupid? You were everything described. That was probably why you and Jake were best friends. 

Taking the cab was one of the stupidest decisions you made, and that excluded the part where you're literally bringing yourself to danger. Thanks to whatever that was terrorising the Oscorp building, the traffic was heavier than usual, so you had no choice but to run on foot. It was the most running you ever did all year.

You wondered if it was a good idea to even be there. Answer: no. The police cars were everywhere, all of which were stationed with police that were armed with rifles. A helicopter circled the building, several broadcasting stations and their reporters were present too. It was a mess. 

"What's happening here?" You were practically out of breath, panting, as you asked a random bystander there. 

"Some freakish lizard creature. I think Spiderman swung into the building to save the remaining victims. They were all rescued but Spiderman's still fighting in there,"

"You saw him? Spiderman?"

"I did! Red suit, white webs, he was so heroic when he crashed through the glass panels," 

"That's the one," you said unnervingly, disliking the uncertainty of it all. Jake was putting himself in danger and you could do nothing about it. How long did this go on for? You were left in the dark for far too long.

Soon, which almost felt like forever, you saw a speck of red escaping from the gap in the building with somebody in hand. You held your breath out of anxiety, heart thumping, listening in on all the noises and reports coming from everywhere around you.

"There he is! Spiderman!" A reporter appeared next to you, absolutely transfixed with the superhero slinging through the dark sky and eventually landing in the distance. "He has the last hostage in hand! A girl!" 

A girl?

You pushed past the crowd, trying to get a closer look at Spiderman and the entire scene before you. There he was, speaking to the police, but there was somebody else too. Gwen Stacy. 

An overwhelming feeling crashed down on you like a heavy weight of boulders falling from the sky. Confusion, hurt, heartbreak, altogether they penetrated you harder than you could manage to breathe. One step, two step, you took many steps back before turning away and hailing for a cab home. 

He wasn't yours, and he wasn't yours to lose either.

Returning home to an empty apartment was nothing new, except it did hit differently this time. Your heart was empty, mind in a haze, it was as if your narrator had drawn swirls over your head. You wished things had turned out in another way. You and Jake, how you found out about his secret, him hiding his secret. If only all of them had another ending than what you had in the present.

You sat slumped over in bed, the desk lamp was the only thing that provided light for the darkness in your room. The shadow looming over your window went unnoticed by you. That was until a series of knocks sounded and you jumped out of bed in alert, finding it strange how there was nothing once your eyes trained on your window.

Well, there goes your future. 

You stepped a little closer. Just then, the window was jerked open by some unseen force, a red cladded face peeking his head into frame. Spiderman, or more accurately, Jake, was standing on your fire escape again. 

He dropped his backpack onto your bedroom floor, letting himself in wordlessly. You stared at him, not knowing whether to speak first or let him be the one to do it. After all, he had left you hanging, it's the least he could do.

Jake pulled off the mask from his head, revealing a rather beat up face and messy, dishevelled hair that was coated with sweat. "You knew?"

His voice was tired, but the confusion and hurt punctuated through his words. He inched close to you, but you took a step back, unable to meet his gaze.

"Well, it wasn't a long time," you muttered. "Just today, actually … coincidentally,"

"How?" 

"Your backpack. I swear I didn't look through it, it was unzipped and when I picked it up, everything spilled out. Your suit revealed it all," you chewed at your bottom lip, Jake's eyes boring into yours, the prickling feeling of anxiety crawled all over your skin. "I didn't want to find out this way either,"

"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I wanted to, trust me, you're one of the closest people I have in my life. But I just didn't know when or how to break it to you. I wanted to protect you, to keep you safe," he was equally guilty for hiding it for a long time, but you understood the reason behind it. Being a hero comes with a great responsibility, that was what movies taught you anyway. 

"Jake, I know, and it's okay, but I just wish to be selfish for a little. I want you to be here with me, to be there for me a–and be my best friend for a minute," you felt yourself losing the will to speak as seconds passed by. "I feel like I'm losing you,"

"You're not. I'm here," he pressed his palm against his heart, stepping closer until he was barely a few inches away. "Always,"

"I don't want to lose you, Jake," your voice wavered, a clear sheen of tears glazed your eyes. "I'm in love with you," your words came out in a whisper, a hushed confession that spilled with no warning, coming from the deepest, darkest pits of your heart. Even then, you couldn't believe you had actually said it, stilling in place and blinking in shock. 

Jake's breath hitched, his movements frozen. You wondered about the possible scenarios you were about to face, ones that you thought of whenever you had the urge to spill your love confession.  All of them certainly didn't prepare you for what was happening next.

"I'm sorry," shock turned into instant panic. Your hands shot out to create a small distance between you and him. "Ignore what I just said. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable—"

Jake didn't say much, and in a swift motion, he grabbed a hold of your hand, pulled you into him. One hand holding your wrist, the other cupping your face to tilt your head and his lips met yours.

You could barely register it. The weight of his mouth against yours created a mass of fireworks in both your head and stomach. The shock evaporated from your body and relief took its spot. You melted against his touch, leaning your body closer to his. 

Jake kissed you like no man could have ever done. He left a part of himself, imprinted his every unspoken word into a deep and passionate kiss. You wondered if this was what it felt like being loved by him.

Forever was what you wished for when it came to kissing him. Yet, it eventually came to an end just like every one of your favourite movies. This time, however, you weren't disappointed, you were glad. 

"Don't apologise. Y/N, I'm in love with you too," his hand on your cheek remained, the dim light managed to bring out the sparks in his pupils. It was your turn to be confused. Didn't he have a crush?  "I know what you're thinking. Gwen—" it's freaky how he always knew, "—I was kinda dumb, to be honest. I was always in love with you but it took me years and a girl to only realise that,

"She was nothing like you. The more I got to know her, the more I thought of you. I wasn't trying to like her, I was trying to find a piece of you in her. Being the coward that I am, I ran away from facing the thought of liking you, I didn't want to ruin our friendship. So, I kept on entertaining the thoughts of liking Gwen instead, but none of it was real. You're the one who's constantly taking up space in my mind, in my heart,"

The fireworks from earlier exploded ten folds in your mind. You couldn't believe you were experiencing every passing moment listening to Jake's confession. He felt the same way as you did for him. He has had the same pining for you like the same way you had for him. Years, years of unspoken romantic love for one another that both were too scared to touch upon. 

Jake took your shell shocked silence as an opportunity to continue on. "I'm sorry for standing you up all the time. I'm sorry for hiding the truth from you. I'm sorry for avoiding you. I'm sorry for not realising it sooner. But I love you, Y/N. You're my best friend, more than anything, you're the only person I want to have occupying my mind all the Goddamn time,"

"Jake," your hand travelled to place itself onto his which rested on your face. "I love you too," you laced your hand into his, the intimacy that would've been seen platonic days ago was now something more than that. You and him both felt the shift, it was apparent. 

"I don't care that you're Spiderman," you continued, not once breaking eye contact with him, letting him stare into yours as you did the same. "You're Jake to me, you forever will be, and that's all that matters,"

Jake's delicate features melted into a smile. His pretty smile that had you swooning was on display like a trophy, influencing you enough to crack a small grin too. He looped an arm around your waist, dipping you slightly and pressing a haste kiss on your lips, then your cheeks. 

"I guess I can now say I've swung into your heart," he teasingly sent a wink flying at you, to which you responded with an eye roll. Some things never changed, but his ego definitely was inflated now.

"Shut up before I kick you out," you threw a light punch at his shoulder, which he dodged almost unsuccessfully. "Come on, let's patch you up then we can go to bed," you patted his shoulder, walking towards your bathroom. 

"Demanding," he whistled under his breath, picking up his discarded mask from the floor. 

"Don't make me add a black eye to your face,"

"But you like my pretty face,"

"You want to test it out?"

"Okay, okay. I'm coming."

The night eventually ended with Jake being patched up and sleeping on your bed instead of his usual spot on the ground. These little changes was what you anticipated most, but other than that, it was safe to say nothing would be changing when it came to your and Jake's relationship. If anything, it was about to be stronger. 

So what if he was Spiderman? At least you knew Spiderman was yours, and he had indeed swung into your heart.

Dating your best friend who had a secret identity was fun. 

You got to discuss maths in school and listen to his adventures after. Not to mention, he would swing you around New York City at times once the clock striked past midnight. No other girl was going to get a date like this. Ten out of ten, you may add. 

With the fun came the terror. You do fear for Jake's safety almost every time he's out, and it has become a routine to patch him up till the point where you had to restock your emergency kit. This time was like no other when Jake appeared through the window soundlessly in his Spiderman suit.

"Hey," he was breathless, tumbling over the window still. 

You jumped, not even realising his appearance. "What the hell? Jake? Oh my God," you got up right away to support his tired body, but he ended up sliding down onto the ground anyway.

"Are you injured anywhere? Bleeding?" You checked for his body, trying to spot any obvious cuts, making yourself comfortable in the space between his legs. 

"No," his hand reached for the end of his mask, pulling it up halfway only to reveal his lips. "Can I get a kiss?"

"Are you serious?"

"I am dead serious," 

You rolled your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss on his lips that eventually widened into a satisfied smile. You gently slapped his face, eliciting a sweet laugh from him and with a tug of his hand, he fully removed the mask from his head, revealing his pretty face that you missed.

"I got something for you," his hand reached out to brush your hair away from your face, his touch ever so gentle when it came to you. He dug something out of his bag, pulling out a fresh bouquet of flowers. "Ta-da," 

"Flowers?" You accepted the bouquet from him, noticing all of your favourite flowers in it. He remembered, even the littlest details about you, he remembered them all.

"I got them on the way here," you raised an eyebrow at him. He threw his hands up in defence. "Hey, I didn't steal them. I actually paid for them. They gave me a discount too because I was in my suit,"

You resisted a smile. "You're unbelievable,"

"Unbelievably cute? Romantic? Handsome?" He leaned in closer to you, noses close enough to brush against one another. 

"Go away," you squeezed his cheek, and he just let you do so without any fight. You threw your arms around his neck, hugging him briefly. "I like them,"

"What about me?"

"I like you too,"

 "But I like you more," 

You threw your head back laughing, a simple sound which was enough to have Jake's heart racing. "We're not making this into a competition, stupid. Now, go shower or else you're not sleeping on my bed,"

"But—"

"Nope. Shower or get exiled,"

"Fine," he dragged his body up sluggishly, looking almost like a puppy being forced to his dismay: the shower. "You're not joining me?"

"Don't make me chase you out." you threw a pillow at him that he skillfully dodged. Damn his spider senses. His laughter echoed around your bedroom until he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of it gave comfort to you and your beating heart.

Things might've changed a little in different aspects, but you knew nothing could change you or Jake altogether. He was your best friend and lover no matter what he was. Spiderman or loverboy, he was everything to you. All you knew was that he was going to be by your side no matter what, protecting your heart alongside the city. 

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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Please Don’t Leave {Eijirou Kirishima}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! I tried something a little different with this story and having included a character we don’t know very much about was challenging. Writing this piece was interesting to say the least lol. This was partially inspired by the book/movie “If I Stay” and if you haven’t read/seen it I def recommend!

The silence was strange. Maybe it was just because it was there. Living with nineteen other teenagers could seem deafening at the best of times and quiet moments were rare. Her body felt strange too though, like she both could and couldn’t feel. One minute she felt weightless, comfortable like she was lying on a giant pillow, and the next she could feel a deep, pulsating throb in her head.

When the pain disappeared is when she opened her eyes to see grey all around her. It was dull and seemingly endless, and she furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Man, it’s gonna be nice to have someone to talk to!”

She jumped at the energetic words, blinking rapidly as she fought the sluggishness of her body to sit up. Below her she noticed what sort of did look like a large white pillow but also the smiling boy floating at her side.

He was tall and his fluffy light blue hair made him look even taller which may have felt intimidating if his blue eyes weren’t so friendly as they stared at her from above a white strip across the bridge of his nose. A blue aviator hat and goggles were visible below his hair and he wore a dark blue gi beneath a brown aviator jacket, dust and dirt clinging to the material.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Where are we, and why is everything grey? Are you sitting on a cloud? Wait, am I?”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s my quirk! I like to ride on them and when you started to appear I could tell you weren’t awake so I made you a cloud bed!”

“How—? Where—?”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” he said quickly. “I dunno where exactly we are but I’ve always called it ‘the in-between’ because we’re between life and death which explains the grey but probably sounds really scary and uh, it is? But at least we have each other! My name’s Oboro Shirakumo!”

She tried to process his rapid-fire words but the only thing she completely understood was his name.

In-between life and death? Why was she seemingly dying? What had happened? She couldn’t remember anything happening to put her life at risk, at least not lately.

“You look really confused and I get that, I feel bad having to give you such heavy news and you probably don’t remember much. I was the same way when I got here, but after a while you should be able to remember and it’ll all come back…” he trailed off, and when she realized the expectant look she said her name. He smiled and repeated it before continuing, “You’ll figure out what led you here.”

“Can I ask what led you here?” she asked quietly when silence stretched between them.

He smiled sadly. “I am—or I guess was?—a hero course student and a villain attack didn’t exactly go my way. Managed to save a class of schoolkids though, and my friend took out the villain all on his own. I’m guessing by your costume you’re probably in a hero course too.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I can’t imagine being alone for so long after all of that. You’re right that I’m a hero course student and my class has been through a lot, but we’ve always been together afterwards.”

“Well, I really don’t know if it’s been long,” he replied thoughtfully. “Time is strange here and being alone definitely doesn’t help. You know how you feel after a really good nap? Like you don’t even know if its day or night or if you were asleep for two hours or two years? That’s sort of how it feels being here.”

“January 8th is the last day I remember seeing on my lock screen,” she mumbled. “I saw it when I woke up and started getting ready for my work study. If something happened on patrol…”

“Not to interrupt but uhm, January 8th of what year?” he asked, eyes bugging when she answered. “There’s no way.”

“What, is it a long time after your villain attack?”

“Yeah. Fifteen years.”

Her eyes widened too. “You’ve been here for fifteen years by yourself?!”

He opened his mouth to reply but she couldn’t hear if he actually did, the searing pain in her skull returning as her hands flew to the back of her head. She pitched forward as tears gathered in her eyes and she cried out in pain.

  Darkness surrounded her and from the heavy feeling of her eyelids she knew they were closed. She felt like she was floating again but this time she could hear voices, garbled and far away. She understood snippets but couldn’t follow the conversation and she couldn’t tell who was saying what.

“…brain… body can try…”

“Stop crying…”

“…class soon… you’ll… without you…”

“…another way! Someone…”

The pain was so much more intense even as she laid still, but then the blackness consumed her and the pain was gone.

  Shirakumo’s hair was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes and was back in the in-between. Still disoriented, she could see that his mouth was open in surprise.

“What just happened?!” she asked, panic bubbling in her chest. “It hurt and I could hear people but I don’t—it was dark.”

“I think you tipped back towards life,” he murmured. “Whatever you heard, do you remember much? Sometimes it helps figure out what’s going on wherever your body is.”

She sniffled, wiping tears from her cheeks with her wrist. “I heard someone talking about a brain, I think? And a body trying to do something but I don’t know what. Do you think they mean me? My brain, my body?”

“Probably,” he said softly. “It can be really hard to hear things when your spirit leans back to life. Sometimes I remember things I never actually saw or heard. The memory itself is hazy, like there’s a dark mist over it so I can’t see much, but I can make out certain words or bits of conversation if I try hard enough.”

“There were other people though, saying to stop crying and asking for another way. I feel like I should know the voices.”

“The more you tip towards life the clearer it is, I think,” he shrugged. “All we can do is hope you move closer to waking up.”

She nodded, lying back on her cloud. If she was hurt badly enough to be suspended between life and death that meant her class was probably going out of their minds, her boyfriend most of all. Maybe he was there speaking to her, maybe he was one of the voices she heard. If he was she could only imagine he was asking for her to wake up. Kirishima was always a beacon of hope, one she was more than happy to follow and prayed would guide her through this too.

He didn’t mind hospitals for the most part, but long hours spent in various ones throughout the country in less than a year didn’t put them on his list of favorite things either. The waiting he had been doing for the last six days in an uncomfortable visitor’s chair was driving him mad and the lack of significant progress in his girlfriend’s condition was even worse.

Sure, she was in the best possible place for treatment and was monitored around the clock but she wasn’t awake. She wasn’t talking to him or poking his nose or kissing his cheek; she was just lying there in the hospital bed looking as if she was going to be swallowed by machines and wires. At least she could breathe on her own and there were no tubes down her throat—he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to handle seeing that.

But still he sat by her bedside any chance he got. After classes ended for the day he took the train straight there, his uniform still on and bag carelessly left in the classroom at his desk. The bag always made its way to him though.

“Kirishima I swear if you don’t start bringing your shit with you you’re giving me money for the train to and from this place. Do your homework while you sit here,” Bakugo snapped at him like every other afternoon as the bag was dropped at his feet.

With a sigh he dug through his bag to find his assignments and opened his notes to work through the homework sheets because he was right, he needed to keep up with schoolwork. He had to be able to help her when she woke up, right?

“Oi, don’t start starin’ into space!”

“I’m not! I’m not, I’m just… this is hard, you know?” he said quietly. “I’ve never gone so long without talking to her and I miss her. She’s right in front of me but I miss her.”

Bakugo scowled. “No one ever said you should be smiling at the fact that your girlfriend had her head scrambled, hair for brains. This is the type of shit we have to deal with if we’re gonna be heroes but that doesn’t mean time stops for you to mope. Besides, didn’t the doctors say she’s doing better?”

“Yeah, they said the swelling’s gone down to the point where it’s really hard to see on the scans so that’s good. But they also mentioned that she’s still low on this coma scale thing, like she’s a six which is just one up from critical. Her only response is to pain and—"

“Tch, you’re just impatient. She’s gonna be fine once her body’s healed enough to wake up. Then the old lady’s gonna kiss her and shit’ll be back to normal.”

“I—

  —really, really hope you’re right.”

“’Course I’m right, you idiot.”

The pain was still there but more a dull ache than before. It let her focus on the voices and she knew them, she knew her boyfriend and his best friend were there with her. She wondered what Bakugo should be right about. He probably was, whatever it is.

Her time in the in-between wasn’t terrible because Shirakumo was good company but she did look forward to the moments when everything went dark and she could hear everyone around her body. She heard her parents and boyfriend most often but her friends were there sometimes too. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she was awake, but she hoped she could open her eyes soon.

“You smile a lot when you snap back from tipping,” Shirakumo observed. He was sat on one of his clouds, elbow on his knee and chin in his hand.

“I hear my boyfriend,” she said with a grin. “It’s just really good to hear his voice, you know?”

“That’s nice,” he said quietly.

She furrowed her brows. “I know you haven’t since I’ve been here but don’t you tip towards life sometimes too? Don’t you hear your family? Your friends?”

“Nah, I don’t know anyone who’s speaking around me. Never recognize what I see through the haze either,” he explained. “I don’t know exactly what that means since it seems like with you, you hear what’s being said to your body. I rarely tip towards life anymore but when I do it’s like I’m on autopilot or something. It’s probably just a dream.”

“Well what do you hear or see?”

“Once I was in a hospital I think but that’s all I can remember, no voices and all I saw was darkness,” he said thoughtfully. “Another time I was in a dome, like a stadium almost. There was a lot of yelling and mostly I can remember shapes and colors. Black and red, green and orange, some white spots in the corner of my eye. Loud bangs like firecrackers were the last thing I heard before tipping back to the in-between.”

She listened intently, the details he described vague but familiar though she didn’t know exactly why.

“Other than those it’s just whispers while I’m in a black fog. It’s just snippets like I mentioned. A word or two here and there.”

“But never your family or friends?” she repeated.

“No, but I can’t really expect that if it’s been fifteen years, huh? My family had my little siblings to look after and my friends—well they’ve gotta be hotshot heroes by now. We wanted to start our own agency together, and I hope they did even without me. The dream shouldn’t die just because I did.”

“What were they like?”

“What’s your boyfriend like?” he teased.

“I asked first!”

“I’m older, respect your elders.”

She let out an exasperated sigh but smiled nonetheless. “His name is Eijirou Kirishima and he’s… he’s like a bright light in the dark. He’s brave even when he’s afraid and he wants to help people because it’s the right thing to do. He’s in the hero course with me and… shit, I miss him.”

“Bet he misses you too,” he said with a soft smile. “He sounds like a good guy, and I hope you can see him again soon.”

“Me too,” she whispered, then after a moment reminded him, “Your turn.”

“Ah well, my buddies were kinda opposite of each other—one loud and energetic, always the center of attention and the other quiet and introverted, sometimes had a tough time believing in himself. But they were both gonna be great heroes! All of Japan was going to know Present Mic and Eras—”

“—erhead,” she finished breathlessly, and Shirakumo grinned.

It had been eleven days since the villain attack that had put her in the hospital and Kirishima still saw her head slamming into the concrete siding of the office building so clearly it may as well have been playing out in front of him all over again. In reality she was extremely lucky that her skull hadn’t been cracked wide open, the only fractures being in her left arm from twisting awkwardly as her body met the building.

Her arm would be easy to heal thanks to Recovery Girl, but the head injury was more delicate and what really needed resolved first. It would take time for her body to recuperate which was the reason she’d fallen comatose; they’d been told that her body was pausing everything else so the damage could be repaired. Once that damage could be taken care of then the other injuries could be tended to. It wasn’t likely to last more than a few weeks but to Kirishima even a few hours seemed like an eternity.

Yet each day after class and on the weekends he waited that eternity, had done it eleven times over. It was difficult—near impossible—to make him leave even for a quick dinner in the hospital’s cafeteria which meant only one person could convince him, and he made sure to do so as crudely as possible.

“Do you fuckin’ think she’s gonna be happy waking up to your stomach growling at her like a goddamn beast? Get your ass some food. If you’re back in under half an hour I’m exploding your ugly fuckin’ face. She won’t recognize you and neither will your shitty mothers.”

It was tiresome to endure the constant yelling but it was true, he needed to eat. “Okay, okay, I’m going. But just make sure—”

“If she wakes up I call the nurse, then you, then her family, then your mothers, then the media, then go fuck myself, I know,” Bakugo finished as his eye twitched. “Get your fucking food, asshole.”

With a defeated sigh the redhead left the room, a glance over his shoulder lingering on his sleeping girlfriend for just a moment as he stepped out into the bright hallway. He let his mind wander as he walked. After eleven days he didn’t need to think of how to get to the cafeteria, his feet knew where to take him.

Bakugo sat back in the visitor’s chair Kirishima had been using as a table for his homework, scrolling through his phone mindlessly. He didn’t hate silence despite what many probably assumed, but this was he sort of quiet that was eerie and uncomfortable because of the circumstances.

“Wake the fuck up.”

Slow, even breaths were his answer.

“What, you embarrassed that you got thrown like a long dart into the side of an accounting firm of all things? Almost couldn’t blame you if that’s why you’re just laying here.”

Nothing.

“I know you can hear me. Know you can hear Kirishima too since—

  —he never shuts the hell up. Probably heard him cryin’ over you too, huh?”

A steady heartbeat and no pain in her head, she breathed in deeply at Bakugo’s words. Of course she’d heard him, the few other times she had come back to her body clearer each time. Her heart broke to hear what she knew were quiet sobs and soared when he would relay the absurdity the class had gotten up to that day.

“It’s your fault he’s upset.”

She hated that he was right.

“Your tests n’shit say you should be wakin’ up any time now. They told him that two days ago and he’s holding on to that but here you are, not even putting up a fight to get back to him. The hell’s that about?”

It… she was trying. But it wasn’t easy when her body felt like it was tied to concrete at the bottom of the ocean and couldn’t possibly surface. She just wasn’t strong enough yet, that’s all. Tipping towards life was lasting longer and longer each time and soon she’d be at the point where she never went back to the in-between. It was just taking time.

“After you blacked out he froze. In the middle of a goddamn villain attack downtown he froze. It was only a few seconds but it coulda cost him, you know that. Then I’d have both of you idiots here probably,” he huffed.

Was that fondness?

“He kept fighting though. He fought until we won but I know he doesn’t think it’s a victory. If he can fight, why can’t you?”

That was the question wasn’t it?

“You better start fighting your ass off to open your eyes. Naptime’s over.”

She hadn’t tipped again since hearing Bakugo’s scolding guilt trip to wake up and while time seemingly didn’t exist in the in-between she felt like days, weeks, months, possibly years had gone by. It was terrifying enough to know that Shirakumo had been there alone for over a decade and never realized it but what if that happened to her too? What if Shirakumo tipped back to life and woke up to resume living or even took the final step towards death? Then she would be alone in the infinite grey abyss with only her thoughts.

What if she never tipped back to life again? She wouldn’t hear a goodbye or say one herself to anyone—not her parents, not her friends, not to the boyfriend who’s kept vigil for what had to have been two weeks by then at least.

“I know you’re scared.”

She looked up to see Shirakumo watching her with an unreadable expression.

“It’s okay to be, you know? This place is like the perfect definition of uncertainty, but you said that last time you heard that you should be waking up soon right?”

“That’s what Bakugo said,” she murmured, staring down at her hands. “But I haven’t tipped since then and now I don’t know if I will again.”

“You don’t feel it at all?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Ah no, I mean you’re… when you go closer to life you look different to me. Like you’re… smudged?”

She stared at him.

“So I see you,” he tried to explain, “but then it’s almost like you’ve got a shadow around you? It—okay, you know how when you draw with an oil pastel you can blend it out? When you tip towards life you look like that.”

“Alright, but what does that have to do with anything right now? I’m not going towards life.”

He gave a weak smile. “Yeah you are. You’ve been smudged since you last heard your friend. It was faint at first but its lingered and now you’re sort of fading out. I think… I think that means you’re waking up.”

“How can I be waking up if I’m not hearing anything there? I’ve been with you this entire time!”

“I don’t know, I’m just guessing! It’s a good thing if I’m right, it means you’ll get to see your boyfriend and your friends and your family.”

“I just… I don’t want to hope and then it be for nothing,” she whispered. “Of course I want to wake up but that’s all I’ve wanted this entire time and I just don’t know how and it’s awful to know I’m causing all of them to worry over me and hope for something that may not happen.”

“Hey I get it, okay? It’s hard knowing that everyone there wants you back but you don’t know how to get to them. But heroes don’t get to lose hope. You can have your moments of weakness but you should never lose hope that it’s going to get better.”

She turned away from him, lip bitten between her teeth. Of course he was right—as heroes they couldn’t lose hope when they were the ones who brought hope to the hopeless in the times they needed it the most. But that also begged the question of how they kept that hope. Who inspired them in the darkest times?

It was an obvious answer once she shed the cynicism: family, friends, loved ones, the people they would fight the hardest for. Her family, her friends, her class, her boyfriend. They had hope for her to wake up and when they spoke to her they were keeping that hope alive.

“It’s okay to be upset,” Shirakumo said softly as he watched a tear make its way down her face. “But you’re gonna wake up, I know it. Just… take a deep breath and we can talk about something else.”

“Okay,” she whispered, turning back to him as she sucked in a breath and let her eyes fall closed.

He watched with a smile as her faded form grew even more faint, then disappear completely as she let out the breath.

The darkness was back. It enveloped her like always but there was no pain in her head. She felt cold, like the air conditioning had been dropped low and created a makeshift icebox out of the room she was in. She also felt stiff but that was both the cold and the fact that she hadn’t moved in what? Over two weeks by then?

There was shuffling to her right. She wondered who was there—was it her parents? Kirishima? The little chuckle answered that quickly.

“Your fingers always twitch when you’re asleep,” she heard him say. “When you fall asleep on me in the common room your little finger twitches tickle because they’re so light. I miss that.”

She never knew she did that in her sleep, and she wondered what made him bring it up.

“You’ve been doing it more and between that and the blinking the doctors say it should really be any time now. I… I miss your eyes. When you blink its so fast I can barely see them so wake up soon, okay?”

She’d been blinking and moving? Could she do that now? She tried to move her left index finger but she couldn’t tell if it worked. Maybe she was still too stiff.

“As much as I love your eyes I think I miss your smile the most,” he said quietly. “Seeing you smile after we confront villains has always been so important, even before we were together. When we saw each other after the USJ and you smiled at me… that was when I realized I had to tell you how I felt.”

He did, right before the sports festival took place. Afterwards he often joked that he advanced as far as he did to prove he was worth keeping around. She could only roll her eyes because he could’ve sat out every event in favor of eating from the food vendors and she would’ve kept him as close as possible.

“When I saw you get hurt I panicked but I knew I had to keep fighting. If nothing else we had to win so I could get to you and make sure you were okay. After we won I practically threw Ojiro and Todoroki out of the way,” he laughed lightly. “I apologized later but I still feel a little bad about it. At least they were understanding.”

Always worried about her, wasn’t he? The feeling was mutual though. She was worried even as he spoke safely from a hospital visitor’s chair just because of the occasional hitch in his breathing. She wanted to see him, to grab his hand, to reassure him.

“Was that finger twitch supposed to be disapproval? I said I apologized!”

Wait, had she really moved?

“They really were understanding though. Heh, probably because I was in tears honestly. Not seeing you smile after a win was just… it hit my heart, y’know?”

Yeah, she knew. He was hitting her heart right now.

“And then you wouldn’t wake up.”

The emotion in his voice was thick and she could picture the pinch in his brows as he tried to hold back tears.

“It didn’t look very good at first and that terrified me more than you could ever know. You barely responded to pain and the swelling took awhile to go down. I don’t know if you could hear me then or even if you can now, but I sat here with you as often as I could and I just kept hoping you would wake up. Well I’m still doing that, but in the beginning I really didn’t know if you would. I held your hand and I cried more than I want to admit just begging you not to leave me.”

How had she gotten so lucky to have him as a partner? What good deed had she done in a past life?

“Even with you moving like that and blinking and everything the doctors have said I’m still scared. They keep saying any day now but I just… when? I’ll sit here every day until you wake up, holding your hand and talking to you. If you can hear me you’re gonna have to get used to me begging even more. Please don’t leave me. I need you here smiling, okay? I want… I want to be a hero you can be proud to stand beside.”

A warm weight settled on her right hand and she realized it was his hand holding hers. She could feel him. She could feel him and she could hear him.

Her body was still so stiff and her eyelids felt like lead but she breathed evenly, gathering all the strength she had. It wasn��t much but it was enough to open her eyes just a bit, light flooding through her lashes and making her close them almost immediately.

Soothing circles were being drawn on the back of her hand and she wanted to see Eijirou smile. It sounded like he hadn’t in so long. She wanted to make him smile.

Her eyes fluttered open just a bit more on the second try but fell closed again at the light. Dammit, hospital lighting shouldn’t be that bad! She tried again, opening her eyes wider and only squinting at the brightness. She kept them open as long as she could before blinking quickly and fixing her eyes on the opposite wall’s small dry erase board; she couldn’t read what it said and she didn’t know if that was because of just waking up or from the injury but she decided to worry about that later.

She could feel the warmth on her hand still and from the corner of her eye she could see red but her head still felt heavy and even turning to the side seemed like an impossibly difficult task. After the fight to just open her eyes she could imagine it wouldn’t be easy. But she desperately wanted to see those red eyes and that sharp smile.

Well her fingers could move and that should be easier than shifting her head to the side, right? So she focused on her right hand and squeezed against the solid palm holding it. She did it once, and then again, and finally a third time. She felt the grip strengthen and soon her line of sight was filled with red hair and red eyes and a blinding smile. She tried to smile back, hoping that the small quirk of the corner of her lips would suffice for now.

In six weeks she had come a long way. After waking up she stayed in the hospital for an additional two days for testing and monitoring before being released back to Aizawa to go back to the dorms. Recovery Girl finished the healing process for her arm and things were, for the most part, back to normal.

Some issues from her time unconscious persisted but were able to be worked through to the point where she didn’t have many difficulties. Initially she had thought there were no effects but as she was dressing to leave the hospital she froze with the laces of her shoe in hand with no idea of what to do next. She knew how to tie her shoes and had known for most of her life, but as she stared down at the white laces in her grip she couldn’t even guess as to what she was supposed to do.

It was a small miracle that her parents were there with Aizawa as she was being discharged because she didn’t think she could handle her teacher having to tie her shoes for her. Relearning wasn’t terrible when she had the help of Eijirou and her friends. They were kind and without much teasing unless she initiated it first. With all the combined effort she was double knotting her laces within two weeks.

Slightly stranger was her perception of music she’d heard prior to her injury—everything sounded just a bit faster, as if it were half a beat ahead of where it should be. It was odd to experience because to everyone else it was normal and just as it should be so she avoided music for a few weeks to shake the uncomfortable feeling it gave her. After roughly a month Jiro convinced her to try listening again and when she started a familiar tune it was just as it should be, no altered speed. It was weird but at least it was over.

She was even back to full contact combat training in hero lessons which was all she had wanted the entire time Aizawa had given her alternate assignments. Most of the class were nervous to work with her even after she was cleared, but she was thankful when both Bakugo and Todoroki challenged her as if nothing had ever happened. That helped to get everyone else back to treating her like the fighter she was.

Eijirou was much clingier and more affectionate with her too. He’d been attentive before but when he’d said he needed her smiling, he had meant it. More than before there was always a hand on her hip, an arm around her shoulder, fingers intertwined with hers, and she enjoyed the increased contact. His goal of making her smile was met a thousand times over within the first two weeks alone, she was sure.

“I did hear you, you know,” she said one night as she laid against him on one of the common room couches. She had one of his hands in hers and traced patterns against his palm. The rest of the class was white noise around them. “I would fade in and out at random times but I heard you the most.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Whatever you heard, I meant it.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “I know you missed me and my smile and you didn’t want to lose me. You’ve told me all of that since I woke up.”

“Of course!” he agreed quickly. “I was there every day and I just couldn’t imagine you not waking up.”

“I’m glad I woke up when you were there. I was fighting to get back to you just like Bakugo yelled at me to do. I’d heard how upset you were and I didn’t want you to cry over me anymore, I wanted to see you smile too.”

“So you remember a lot of what you heard while you were out, huh?”

She nodded. “There’s a lot I remember but I’m sure I’m missing some things.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, catching her fingers to lace them together.

“I think I want to talk to Aizawa about it more. There’s just some stuff Hound Dog wouldn’t understand.”

“Like what?” he asked, kissing her temple.

She sighed. “Just some other things I remember from while I was unconscious. I think he might have some good insight.”

Eijirou gave a nod of understanding and they fell into a comfortable silence.

She was so glad to back with her friends and boyfriend and seeing her parents again had been amazing. At first it felt like she had missed everything in the sixteen days she had been unconscious but they all worked to fit her back into normal life. Knowing they cared about her was heart-warming in a way she’d never experienced before and she was thankful beyond words.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! I’m still a little unsure of how this fic turned out though that sometimes when I try something new. Also I know I put Kirishima through a lot of shit around here but I swear I love him and want the best for him! We love an unwavering and sturdy hero on this blog

[ladyfantasy98]

Flyers and Favors, Part 2!

Hello! First, thank-you for the wonderful response to my Danny Phantom fanfic, Flyers and Favors! I’m really honored that so many people have liked and reblogged -- some of them twice!

So while I had intended it to be a one-shot, inspiration struck, and I’ve added a second part! With a possible third part to come at a later date.

Chapter 2 deals with Dani battling Skulker when he comes to bother Danny during study time. It ended up longer and a bit more serious than I intended, but I think it’s still humorous and a good read (if I do say so myself ;) ).

Let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your thoughts on it!

You can read this second part either below the cut, or on my Fanfiction.net account. Happy Reading!

Danielle knew the instant a ghost showed up. A shiver ran through her body and she gasped, releasing a small blue puff of air.

With a grin, she jumped up from her brown wooden desk and transformed, letting two white lights wash over her body and change her into her ghost form, Dani Phantom. Her shoulder-length black hair (layered with triangle cuts in the back) became white, and a black-and-white jumpsuit replaced her purple pajama shorts and button-up top.

She turned intangible and flew up through the ceiling of her bedroom - created by siphoning off sections of the Fenton family's lab - until she reached her older cousin/brother/creator Danny's room. She poked her head through his floor just in time to see him finish his own transformation into Danny Phantom.

"Hey!" Dani called, startling him and making him jump up into the air. Hovering there, Danny looked over at her.

"What's up, Elle?" he asked. Ever since she had moved in with the Fentons a year ago as their adopted daughter, the family had taken to calling her Elle, Ellie, or Annie to differentiate between her and Danny. Dani didn't mind, but she still introduced herself to new people as Dani-with-an-I, and she would always be Dani Phantom.

"I got this one," she answered Danny. "Go back to studying."

"But - "

"I can handle whoever it is, I promise," Dani insisted. "That's the whole reason you went into the Ghost Zone the other day, right? To make sure they'd leave you alone so you could study?"

"Well, yeah, but -"

"Then study. These exams are really important to you, I know."

Danny lowered himself until he was back on the floor. He glanced over at his desk, which was covered with pencils, textbooks, and loose-leaf paper filled with scientific equations. "I mean...this can wait. You have homework, too, I know. I'll just stay up and -"

She narrowed her glowing green eyes - the same as Danny's - at him. "Danny. Please. My Pre-Calc homework is not going to determine whether I graduate or get into my dream college program this week. Just let me. Handle. The ghost."

Danny stared at her for a moment, looking torn, before he finally sighed. Twin flashes of light raced up his body, and his eyes turned blue, his white hair - cut shorter and closer to his head than when he was 14 - became black, and his own black and white jumpsuit disappeared to reveal a NASA T-shirt and a pair of blue boxers.

"Alright, you win," he conceded. "Just...be careful. And you'll get me if you need help?"

Dani rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dad, I promise. Now go do you homework!"

Danny laughed. "Alright, Mom." But he waited and watched as Dani pulled out her phone and quickly shot off a text to Valerie, saying the exact same thing she'd told Danny, before turning intangible again and flying through the roof.

Bursting into the night air, Dani took a second to enjoy the rush of flight, before putting herself into a fighting mindset. Looking around at the houses, clearly illuminated by the giant green Fenton Works sign attached to the Fentons' home, Dani couldn't see any signs of a recent ghost attack. No broken windows, no smoking buildings, no screaming people.

But she'd definitely sensed a ghost earlier. Maybe it was something small? Or it was still in the lab? Now that she thought about it, she should have just checked out the lab first, especially since it was right next to her bedroom. But she'd wanted to make sure Danny didn't go after the ghost himself. He'd been super stressed over his final AP Chem and AP Physics tests this week and she had wanted to do him a favor by taking care of any ghostly threats that came through.

Not to mention it would show him and the rest of Team Phantom that she was mature and skilled enough to protect Amity without any of them breathing down her neck. Honestly, she loved her cousin, and Sam and Tucker and Valerie, but sometimes they were way too overprotective. They acted like she hadn't spent over a year living on her own, fighting ghosts and for her own survival. And they had been worse lately; their impending collegehood must have been making them overly nostalgic and worried and adult-like.

Dani was about to head back inside, when she gasped, her Ghost Sense alerting her once again. Then, sensing something coming towards her from behind, she dodged to the left - just in time to avoid the grappling hook/claw that zipped by her. It landed in the sidewalk down below, cracking the concrete.

Dani spun around, following the mechanical line up from the hook to the ghost who had fired it. When she saw who it was, she groaned.

"Oh, come on, Skulker? Really? Do you know what time it is?" she demanded.

"Ah, the Ghost Girl. Nice to see you. I'd been planning on hunting your sire, but a fight with you should warm me up nicely!" Skulker exclaimed. He pressed a button on his suit, and the grappling hook shot up from the sidewalk and returned to Skulker with a hissing sound. "And, yes, I know it's late. My apologies. Believe it or not, it's morning right now in the Ghost Zone."

Dani rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Floating higher until she was eye level with Skulker, she prepared her own ecto-blast, green light coiling around her hand. "Also, how many times do I have to tell you, Danny is my cousin, or maybe my brother. He's not my sire. That makes him sound like a medieval king or something. It's weird."

Skulker chuckled. "You're more right than you know, child." Then, raising his arm to ready an ecto-energy cannon blast, he added, "Now, enough talk. Let the hunt begin!"

Danielle smirked. "You're on."

She took aim at the center of the robotic suit and launched her ecto-blast. Skulker simply dodged it, and fired his own attack. Danielle turned intangible and let the cannon fire pass right through her. Undeterred, Skulker launched a type of flaming arrow, burning with his signature green-blue fire.

I should probably move the fight away from the neighborhood so nothing gets too damaged, thought Dani. Dodging the small projectile and flying over near the park, she asked,

"Didn't you get the flyer?"

"Of course I got the flyer. The Ghost Child littered them all over my front lawn!" Skulker exclaimed, shooting out three more rockets from the launcher on his right shoulder.

"And, what, you just decided to ignore it? That's so not cool." Dani reached out her hand and encased the rockets in her ecto-energy, containing their explosions; smoke billowed within the green spheres as she lowered them to the ground.

Dani then flew towards the park, where there would be less people to hurt and less buildings to damage. Skulker chased after her, donning a pair of night-vision goggles, even though there were still street lamps in the park.

"I thought you guys were allies sometimes," Dani added, stopping in mid-air above one of the public fountains. She could hear the water gurgling slightly in its concrete bowl.

"Yes, when the fate of the Ghost Zone is at stake," Skulker answered. He hovered on the opposite side of the fountain, arm outstretched towards her. "The whelp failed to explain in his flyer how him failing a test would be the end of the world."

Dani narrowed her eyes at the hunter. "It'd be the end of his world," she told him. She held up both hands and formed two more ecto-blasts. "What's important to Danny is important to me, so I'm not gonna let you ruin this for him."

"How admirable." Skulker fired another blue laser at her, which she dodged. She released her ecto-blasts, hitting Skulker in the chest. He crashed into a nearby tree, breaking the poor plant in half. When Skulker remained on the ground, Dani hovered closer to him. Placing both hands on her hips, she said,

"You don't plan on following him to college, too, do you? 'Cause that would be even more uncool."

Skulker merely grinned at her from among the wood splinters. "But of course! Where the prey goes, the hunter goes. The whelp doesn't think he can shake me just by going to a different learning institution, does he? How foolish!"

Dani fired another ecto-blast at him. He yelled in pain as it hit, pounding him into the ground. Dani smirked as the dust settled. That oughta teach him.

Only to widen her eyes in surprise when she saw that Skulker was no longer on the ground. "Wha - ?"

A presence behind her. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Skulker's grin before he backhanded her, sending her crashing into another tree. Dani groaned as the tree fell, sending a shock wave of pain up her body. Spitting out leaves, she gathered herself, then rose up into the sky.

"Alright, Skulker, not ba - aaahhh!" Dani screamed as a ghost-proof net wrapped around her, knocking her back onto the ground and sending bolts of electricity through her body. She was left panting and jittery once it passed.

"Haha, you underestimated me, didn't you, Ghost Girl?" Skulker crowed as he walked towards her, his metal boots crushing the grass underfoot.

Danielle scrunched her eyes in pain, before opening them and glaring at the ghost hunter. She wriggled in the net, frustration building as she failed to free herself.

Skulker picked up the net and Danielle, holding her as if she weighed nothing. She'd gotten a bit of a growth spurt once she'd turned fourteen, reaching Danny's old height, but Skulker was still much larger than she was. Well, his suit was, at least.

"You know," Skulker began, regarding her thoughtfully, "I've never understood why you cling to human traditions so much. You, Phantom, even Plasmius - you all plan and prepare for human lives, human futures, but why? You're ghosts. And sure, lots of my neighbors concoct plans for world domination - even I like the occasional vacation out in the human world. But ultimately, we all belong in the Zone. Even you three."

Dani blinked up at him, surprised by his sudden philosophical demeanor. Even as she huffed and struggled in the net, she couldn't help but agree with him. There were times - when she was flying, high above the earth, or slipping between buildings without a care for the laws of physics, or using her powers to fight ghosts intent on doing evil - she wondered why she wanted to be human. Why did she want to pretend to be an ordinary girl, when there were people like the Guys in White that would capture and dissect her and her cousin the first chance they got? Why should she hide herself in this world, when in the Ghost Zone no one cared that she was part human?

But then...

Then she remembered the look on Danny's face as he taught her how to use her powers to help people. How excited he was to receive the acceptance letter from Amity University, contingent on his grades though it was. The joy and pride Danielle felt when Jack and Maddie welcomed her into their family, ghost powers and all. Going shopping with Jazz, and having her explain things like bras and periods. Hanging out with Tucker, Sam, Danny, and Valerie, listening to them joke around and plan for the future, even as they made Amity Park a safer place.

Dani sucked in a deep breath. "Skulker, you're right," she said. "We are half ghost."

Then, hoping she was right, she transformed. The white rings washed over her, her ghost side tucked away for now, leaving her in all her human glory. And - to her delight - as soon as she was human, Dani fell out of the net.

She landed on her feet, and smiled up at Skulker, who looked confounded. He must have forgotten to use the anti-halfa net instead, or perhaps, like usual, he had underestimated her.

"But we're also half human. And so we decide where we belong."

Mid-transformation, Dani jumped up and decked Skulker in the face. The ghost sailed to the left, gouging a trench into the earth as he landed. Before he could get up, Dani unhooked the mini-Fenton Thermos she always kept with her from around her waist and aimed it at the ghost. The thermos' opening shone brightly, its light sucking Skulker up into its metal confines.

"No! No! I'll get you for this, Ghost Girl! You and the whelp!" Skulker thundered, his words becoming quieter and more distorted as he disappeared into the thermos. Dani capped it and twisted firmly, sealing him inside.

The night became quiet once again. Dani surveyed the former battleground, pleased to see that the park had sustained little damage, outside of a few broken trees. Hooking the thermos back onto her belt, she rose into the air and headed home.

Danielle didn't know where she quite fit in yet - in town, in school, in life - but there was plenty of time for her to discover that. Right now, all she wanted was to stay by her family and friends' sides. And if the the price for that was battling a few ghosts and sticking them in Fenton thermoses - for at least six months, she thought gleefully, imagining Skulker's misery -

Well, then it was a price she would gladly pay.

[saieras]

My name is Robert.

The Multiverse exists. Peter has found him.

But his name isn’t Tony.

It’s Robert.

As celebration for 500 followers, enjoy this post-Endgame drabble :)

Taglist at the end. Tagging people who are on the Hearts of Iron taglist, also some people who reblogged @lrel98‘s addition to @itsallavengers‘s post, with a similar premise. Let me know if you want in or out~

Peter squints as he looks out across the panorama, bathed in the lights and sounds and gaudy not-quite-night that New Yorkers are so used to. Streets and avenues stare back at him, at once familiar and foreign. From time to time his gaze would pass over a corner of the city before jerking back to refocus on a building, or a block, or some ordinary intersection, pausing until he picks out a part that’s not quite like the others—like playing a giant, never-ending find-the-difference game.

It’s… jarring. Sure, sprinkled here and there are some blocks that look almost identical to his world’s, but even more parts of the city, entire swaths even, are just… off. The skyline, too, is wrong, with buildings popping up where they shouldn’t, and others leaving gaping voids in their absence.

Like the Avengers Tower… or rather, the lack thereof.

Peter clenches his jaw and tears his eyes away from where the tower is supposed to be. He palms the rough texture of the skyscraper’s exterior. It’s his second-favorite spot to cling to and be moody on. At least the Empire State Building is the same as he remembers, complete with the exact same security camera configurations and blind spots—seriously, what are the odds of that?

For the fourth time since he’s arrived, he wonders why this hugely inconvenient detour happened in the first place. It’s probably his horrid sense of direction at work, he decides. His topographagnosia—that’s legit what it’s called—is probably so bad that it made his Multiverse Quantum Spacetime Guidewatch malfunction. God that’s a mouthful (the watch, not the affliction). Everyone would be better off calling it a Gadget. Or a Gizmo? A Goober?

Yeah, he’ll just call it a Goober from now on.

Peter sighs and stares at the piece of machinery in resignation. To be fair, he did get briefed on the possibility of this exact scenario happening—something close to a one-in-ten-thousandth chance, or so Mr. Beck said—which is kind of impressively low, given the magnitude of what they’ve accomplished.

And, again to be fair, it’s not as if Peter is really… surprised, anymore, especially with his luck in recent months.

He knows he ought to care. He ought to be more worried. He’s supposed to be Spider-Man, supposed to do what he always did when entering a new world: find out what it’s like, locate a safe spot, and gather information. See if it needs his help; because no matter what universe, no matter what dimension, people are people.

But he’s so tired. Fighting, saving people, doing good. More and more often he finds himself wanting to run away as far as possible, to a place that doesn’t need constant saving. You shouldn’t even be doing this, a small voice would nag from time to time. You’re worthless. You never saved anyone. You couldn’t save him.

Peter knows that voice is wrong—because he has these gifts and if he doesn’t use them then what did Uncle Ben die for?—and yet he just can’t seem to help his thoughts. And it’s hard; hard not to feel young, and stupid, and alone, when he knows there won’t be a slightly annoyed voice answering his calls, tired but never hanging up while he blabbers about school, or new ideas, or the day’s herowork.

Then, before he knows it, he’s doing things more to cope than to help. To feel alive himself, than to help others stay alive.

He scoffs. Cope. People always seem to ask how he’s coping. Even people who he knows loves him. May. Pepper. Happy. It makes him angry that they just don’t get it.

As if anyone can just, cope. Just move on. As if he can ever forget that moment the blue light snuffed out.

They all said he’s ‘honoring a great memory’, as if it’s consolation and he should be instantly cheered. Like, yeah, maybe that ought to have given him more of a purpose, but on some nights its… hard. Those nights, when the suit chafes and burns on his skin, when the night air becomes suffocating, when he would see yet one too many red-and-gold graffiti, a tribute—

Peter gulps down air and forces himself to calm down. He’s gotten quite good at that. He bites his lip and blinks.

Pathetic, he thinks, half joking, half bitter. Even after four months, he’s still stuck in this limbo. The brochures and guidebooks, they’re all a bunch of crap—because it didn’t get… hasn’t gotten… will never get better. It’s there, creeping up behind him when he least expects. It’s there, even after he’s learned to shove it beneath sarcasm and witty banter. It distills, condenses, reverberates; sometimes overwhelms.

It’ll take three days for the field to recharge and re-align itself. Three days to spend in this strange alternate dimension, this less-swanky version of his New York, with dirtier air and heavier clouds, but also more people, more hustle and bustle, more energy.

But no… him. Never him. Peter’s looked. He’s been to six other universes already.

No him.

He turns and leans his forehead against the cool glass. The dark inky surface dances and pulses with the city lights behind him.

“I miss you, Mr. Stark.” His breath fogs on the smooth pane. He has to try really fucking hard so his voice doesn’t crack.

He forces air into him, to push back the tightness.

“Please… let me find you.”

Silence answers him, like it always does.

The vibrations are what he notices first, passing through the concrete and stone and steel of the building’s bulk to tickle at his soles, like tremors in a spider’s web.

Peter tilts his head, feeling the stiff sinews of his neck crack and pop. He’s been staying in the same spot for an hour, he reckons.

Then the faintest of melodies reach him, and he realizes that the vibrations are music. Very loud music.

Somewhat groggy, Peter turns his head to look up, where the rest of the Empire State’s impressive height disappears into the gloom. He shrugs. Couldn’t hurt, he decides. Besides, the music is kind of good—unfamiliar and different in style, but good.

He webs and climbs the rest of the way up, still careful to avoid the cameras. As he gets closer to the top, he makes out burning beams of light poking into the sky. He makes out laughter and the din of conversation. He makes out cheers and applause and the click of cameras.

It’s a good thing the Building is a carbon copy of the one in his world, or someone would have found him by now. Peter swings and jumps expertly in the blindspots, and soon he’s just below the Observation Deck.

Where a party is in full swing.

Practically next to the Deck, now, Peter pokes his head over the railings, relying on his Sense to tell him where the crowds are thinnest. Tuxedoed men and elegant women are everywhere, laughing and chatting and dancing, glasses of champagne in their hands. They all seem to be converging on one side of the Deck, so Peter takes this chance to hop over the railings and shimmy his way up to the terrace above.

There must be close to a hundred people in attendance tonight. Peter thinks they must be either business people or entertainment people—he sees quite a few lavish dresses, blazing with colors and ostentatious display, looking not at all practical to move around in.

Peter wonders what the party is for. Then again he doesn’t really care. He occupies himself by observing the way the people move, the way they talk. The suit helps filter out the worst of the bright lights and sounds, and he sticks himself to a wall, just quietly watching.

It’s been so long since he’s been to a party. When was the last time?

Ah, that Stark Industries Charity Tony had roped him into attending, a few months before Thanos. ‘Pepper forced me to go so now I’m forcing you to go,’ the man had said, grinning. ‘Misery loves company, kid.’

That was a century ago.

Peter sighs. Maybe he’ll recognize some people here, he thinks, even if they’re not the people he wants to recognize. He’s already seen six incarnations of the Kardashians across as many universes, for example, and his mouth twitches in disgust at the thought of meeting a seventh. It makes him angry to think people like them exist across the multiverse, but not the warm, sarcastic voice he hears in his dreams, or the hand he wants to feel ruffling his hair after missions, saying, ‘good job, kid’.

He brushes his thoughts away.

Well, guess what? Life doesn’t work the way you want. Suck it up, Parker.

A round of thunderous applause drowns out his thoughts. Peter huffs. Another celebrity has probably just arrived; either that, or some kind of speech is about to start. He couldn’t care less, either way. Someone clears their throat

“Hello, hello!”

Peter almost falls off the antenna. His head whirls to pinpoint the voice, a ship homing in to the beam of a lighthouse. He yanks off his mask, and the world assaults him with information and sound and light, and his heart rate skyrockets to probably over 150, pounding relentless at his temples. He ignores all that. They don’t matter. He doesn’t matter. He fixes his gaze in the direction where most of the applause is coming from.

All that matters is the voice, that voice, his voice—Peter holds his breath, throat throttled, his mind a potpourri of fleeting words and formless thoughts and disbelief and disbelief and disbelief. And beneath it all… a hint of what strays dangerously close to hope.

“Thank you, thank you all so much for coming!”

It’s him. It’s got to be him. The timbre, the confidence, the hidden smirk. The warmth.

Peter never ran so fast in his life. Ran, hopped, skipped. He could’ve thwhipped himself over, but his entire body was shaking and he didn’t trust his aim. He skids to a halt by the end of the terrace, panting hard even though the short sprint should’ve been like a casual stroll to his enhanced body.

He hesitates a split second. Then he looks down—

It’s him It’s him It’s hIM IT’s HIM IT’S HIM. He is here, he is in this universe. He is alive, alive, aliVE, ALIVE, ALIVE.

Peter crumples onto the floor, barely keeping enough wits about himself to rein in the volume of his gasping breaths. They came, and came, and came, wracking his thin wiry form, tsunamis of joy and relief, and still that disbelief. Abruptly he snaps his head up over the low concrete wall, terrified that the man would be whisked away if he so much as blinked, like a mirage, a hologram, another one of BARF’s cruel simulations.

And he’d lose him again.

But no. The man is still there, still present, right there. Talking. Laughing. Holding a champagne glass. He says a toast, mingles with some celebrities, takes a sip.

Peter laughs. It’s a quiet laugh, yet somehow hysterical. Half-deranged.

Seven worlds. Seven universes.

I found you, he thinks. I found you.

He thinks it so strongly, so violently, that he can almost imagine it hurtling across the air, louder than any shout or declaration.

I found you, Mr. Stark.

“Bye honey! Love you!”

Robert puts down his phone and smiles fondly in the direction of the Hamptons, invisible behind New York’s skyline and its pulsating, effervescent night. Just a short drive away, Susan and the kids are waiting for him, with the promise of pop tarts and a family movie night. No, nothing from the MCU… Exton’s in a bit of a Batman phase right now, and Avri idolizes her brother.

Hey, at least he’ll be watching a different billionaire superhero on screen for a change!

Robert chuckles and shakes his head. The whirlwind press tour ended not too long ago, and overall, he’s had a very good few days. It’s nice to finally have the chance to wind down and enjoy a well-earned meal or two with his friends and co-stars, not to mention a few (more than a few!) video calls with his family.

The din of the party grows louder behind him. He’s been able to excuse himself from the general hubbub with Susan’s phone call, and he breathes in the night air, not exactly in a hurry to get back. He’s always loved the energy and goodwill coming from the fans, but eleven years and ten movies in, it’s both bittersweet and incredibly satisfying to have completed his journey in such a way. This fundraiser ball will be the last official engagement for him in quite a while, and he’s looking forward to the peace and quiet (not that things are ever that quiet with a 7-year-old and a 4-year-old).

A small voice pipes up from behind him.

“M-Mr. Stark?”

Robert snorts. No rest for the wicked, it seems. All the same, he turns around and cocks an eyebrow, stepping effortlessly into character. A trivial kindness on his part can be the highlight of someone else’s day, so why not play Tony for a little while longer?

“Alright, you found me,” he says with a quick shrug. The light from the skyscraper’s spire blinds him temporarily, and he can only make out the shadow of a figure. “And you are? Come on, step forward.”

The figure remains frozen. Robert squints. It’s a man, he thinks—not very tall (which is saying something, coming from him), and built rather strong. Probably one of the younger guests at the ball.

He beckons again. He knows how to deal with star-struck fans. “Come on,” he says, this time letting a bit of warmth into his voice. “I’m not gonna fire a missile at you. Unless you’re secretly from HYDRA?”

The young man is trembling, Robert notices—so violently that, even with a good ten feet’s distance and his silhouette darkened by backlight, the shiver is still apparent.

The actor shrugs. Sometimes fans get more than a bit overwhelmed; he’s not one to judge. He takes a step, still squinting, and hears a sniff. Ah, so they’ve probably seen Endgame, huh.

But then, finally, the person steps closer.

Robert’s mouth drops open. Then he beams. “Tom? I thought you’re in Mexico!” He strides forward, arms outstretched. “Should’ve given me a heads-up that you were dropping in!”

Tom is oddly silent, but Robert hears an unmistakable gasp as his arms wrap around the young man. There’s a split second pause, and then Tom is hugging him back, almost uncomfortably tight.

“Woah there,” Robert says, taken aback. “Press tour that bad, huh?”

Tom doesn’t answer. He’s still trembling. Robert frowns at the texture at his fingertips.

“Is that—” he looks down, and laughs. “Did you smuggle that off set?”

Tom still doesn’t answer. Instead, he… whimpers. There’s no other word for it. He whimpers: a plaintive, tiny noise, halfway broken.

“Mr. Stark,” he croaks, and buries his face in Robert’s shoulder. Then, quietly, powerfully, he begins to sob.

Robert rubs his co-star’s tense heaving shoulders. For a prank scene, Tom is really giving it his all—tears are coming hard and fast, and already the fabric of his tuxedo is damp. You owe me a new suit, Robert thinks fondly as he settles into the rhythm of the shoot. He wonders where the cameras are at, and wonders where they’ll use this footage; maybe on the press tour for Far From Home?

He expects someone to shout And Cut from the sidelines. Tom just hasn’t stopped crying, and his grip is tighter than ever. But then a full minute passes, and all he hears is the buzz of conversation back from the party, and the occasional whistling wind, and Tom’s quiet, devastated sobs.

Surreptitiously he glances around. He’s been in the industry long enough to know every possible camera angle they can surprise him with, and… he doesn’t see a camera. Not even a drone.

This is him, Robert realizes with a pang in his heart. Just him.

He hasn’t seen this kind of panic in the young actor ever since the early days of Spider-Man’s inception into the MCU, and even back then, Tom had certainly never just… broken down, like this. Robert doesn’t ask about why he’s here at the party, why he’s in costume, and a million other questions that demand answers. Those can come later.

“Hey,” he says, gently brushing the young man’s hair. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, buddy.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom gasps. “I-I’m s-sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Robert frowns. He double and triple-checks that there really is no camera, before his gaze comes back to the boy in his arms. It makes no sense. Why would Tom not drop character? Yet the emotions seem so genuine.

“Do you want to go inside for a bit and talk?” Robert offers finally, unsure again whether or not this whole thing is a prank.

Tom seems to consider for a moment, before he nods. Almost sheepishly he steps away from Robert, still sniffling. He takes a shaky breath, visibly steadying himself.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he says, glancing at his feet. “I… I guess I’m called Tom in this dimension but I…” he trails off.

Robert’s frown deepens. Before he can further question his young co-star, though, his phone buzzes, and out of habit he slips it out of his pocket.

It’s a message. From Tom.

[Tom Holland]: just wrapped up press tour in Mexico!

[Tom Holland]: heard u’re on the last leg too, Boss Man, so congrats

[Tom Holland]: oh and jake says hi

[Tom Holland]: see u stateside! say hi to susan & the kids for me :)

[Tom Holland]: Sent a photo.

Robert swipes his phone open. It’s a photo of Tom and Jake, making the webshooting motion as they enter the airport gates, a crowd of fans behind them. Robert blinks. He lifts his gaze.

Tom is in front of him, in costume, head still lowered.

He looks down at his phone. Double-checks the time-stamp.

Tom is in Mexico. About to fly.

Robert feels dizzy. He looks back and forth between the two Toms, then focuses his attention on the Tom who’s here. He reaches out and touches his cheeks, trying to see if there’s make-up or even a face mask. Tom lifts his head at the contact. His eyes are red and twinkling still. His face is entirely real.

“Who… are you?” Robert asks in a whisper.

“I’m, I-I’m Peter,” the young man stammers. “Peter Parker.” He looks on the verge of tears again. “Mr. Stark, you have no idea, I just—I’ve been to so many dimensions and—”

“I’m not Mr. Stark,” Robert says, numbly. He pinches a cheek, his own this time. It hurts. It’s real. “My name is Robert.”

Not-Tom looks as if he’s about to say something when he blinks. A split second later, he leaps up—ten feet, easy—over Robert, over the balcony, and over the railings.

Robert’s heart almost stops. He rushes to the edge of the Deck, and looks down in stunned horror.

The young man hasn’t fallen. Instead, he is plastered to the side of the building—no wires, no safety harness, no equipment of any kind. Just… sticking.

Robert blinks. Blinks again. His mind is blank.

Not-Tom seems to sense something, and looks up. Their eyes meet. Not-Tom gives him a small, grateful smile.

“Robert?”

Robert jumps. He whips around to see Gwyneth, who happens to be at this event.

“Oh hey,” he says. He gulps even though his mouth feels dry. “Hey.”

Gwyneth smiles. “You were taking so long they sent me to find you. Everything fine back home?”

“Uh, yeah! Of course, of course.”

“Good to hear. Come on, they’re waiting for your speech.”

And with that, she’s already moving away.

Robert breathes out. He casts one last look over the railings.

Not-Tom is still there, clinging to the building. Peter is still there. The boy hasn’t looked away, and upon catching Robert’s gaze, his eyes shine.

“Wait for me,” Robert blurts out. “I want to talk to you.”

Peter’s eyes widen. Then he nods.

“Okay.”

Part 1 of 2. Also on AO3.

My main post-Endgame Iron Family fic is Hearts of Iron!

TAGLIST:

@a-bit-of-space  @aelebubble  @aleteia-ff  @alstonnovak  @anaevenss  @and-yes-i-write-irondad-fic  @avengersandco  @a-room-full-of-stars  @a-sweet-little-fangirl  @bluefire-lost  @bucky-to-my-barnes  @chamiryokuroi  @cherryp-ie  @chiefhiccstrid  @chocolatecarstairs  @curlyshawnie  @fan-writer02  @hermioengarngre  @h-osterfield  @insanearesane  @istanacrowbarvictim  @jess-b-thot  @josierosie  @jubpajub7  @kyriefics  @leuyen2004  @madd09  @mandaloriandragontrainer  @morganstarkh  @ms-fluffy2  @multifandom-slytherin  @my-babies-are-no-longer-ash  @oceaneyedaniel  @omegabeast27  @riiiiiida  @sandsbuisle  @sebashtianstans  @starkerisfuckinglife  @starkravinghazelnoots  @trustfundparker  @tonystarkdeservestobehappy  @tonystarkz  @tonystvkrs  @tyrusshipper12  @who-knows-who-cares910  @winston-wilson  @writing-in-winter

[lynneshobbydomain]

Tie A String Around Me (Day 2 of Komahina Week)

((Thank you sunflower_8 for betaing this chapter for me and for letting me know when I screw up a character’s name. Dear god have mercy on me. As always, thank you all for the kudos and reblogs, they truly make my day).

Prompt: Soulmate AU/ Confessions

Rating: T (Hajime has a mouth)

Summary:  Prequel to Make My Wish Come True In a world where different soulmates had different marks and tattoos and words to say to each other, Nagito considered himself lucky to have a string. He could find his soulmate at any time if he wanted, but he was more than happy to let fate decide when they meet. However, meeting someone at the other end could prove to be his bad luck.

You can read this prompt from under the cut or you can go read it on AO3

There were four tugs on Nagito’s pinky finger that had a red string tied at the end.

Nagito smiled as he walked over to the vending machine on the school campus. Sometimes there were two sharp pulls and he had learned over the years that it meant that his soulmate was nervous or upset. One sharp pull was usually his soulmate telling him to knock it off when Nagito played too much with the string. There were sometimes three slow pulls, as if to comfort. As if to say that he’s okay when Nagito would tug just to see if his soulmate was there. He didn’t have the exact method of communication down, even after all these years, but he liked to think that he understood the subtext of what the pulls could mean.

He wondered if his soul mate was nervous about something, or if he was just also trying to make sure that the red string was intact. It would be just Nagito luck if it somehow broke. He lightly tugged back on the string, telling whoever was at the other end that he felt it. He was still there. Even if he didn’t understand why the four tugs. Four wasn’t a number they usually used.

Speaking of his soul mate, Nagito sometimes felt bad for them. On one hand, they were going to be absolutely brilliant and he knew it! They probably had the most hope that he would ever lay his eyes on. They were also probably the most talented! Oh how extraordinary that would be! To have a talent that could bring so much hope and joy. He thought about the different kinds of professions that could be. Detectives, nurses, doctors, or maybe they were the artistic type like a painter or a sculptor. Whatever kind of soulmate he had, Nagito was just happy that he was going to have someone that had just as much hope as he did.

On the other, the vending machine was stuck again. Nagito didn’t mind it so much, this was a minor inconvenience to what kind of bad luck he could get. Not get any soda? That’s fine, maybe something better was around the corner. Better to have that be the case than to have someone die in a plane crash, or watch a car accident with no survivors, or be the only one to get out of a burning apartment building without a scratch. His luck was the worst when it decided to be on the downswing. Nagito glanced at the red string that was tied around his pinky finger.

He could follow it. It wasn’t frayed and damaged. It had a strong red glow and if he tugged on it just right, he could feel a tug back. He could see where it led, but he never tried. Or more like he felt like if he did try he wasn’t sure what kind of luck would meet him at the end. Meet his soulmate, only to watch them disappear in the end? Nagito was happier to leave it up to fate to decide when they meet. Besides, they could be across the country right now trying to spread as much hope and joy they possibly can. Having a soulmate would weigh them down and Nagito didn’t want them to feel obligated to put their lives on a shelf.

Besides, he found it interesting that in a world filled with different ways of finding soulmates, he had managed to get a more physical manifestation of it. Most of his friends had words written on their skin of the first or the last things that they would say to their beloveds. He had seen soulmates who had symbols that were supposed to match. There were some who thought that they were color-blind, only to light up in joy when they could finally see the world as what it was. So many different ways to spread and find hope and Nagito got the one that was the easiest….and the hardest.

No one else could see the red string. No one really believed in it anymore. It was a soulmate myth that disappeared within the sands of time. That was alright, Nagito didn’t mind the obscurity. In fact, that’s what made this even more hopeful and interesting he thought. To be able to meet his soulmate at any given time and feel them? There was not enough words to express his-

“Are you just gonna keep standing there?”

Nagito jolted and he looked over to see a boy with messy brown hair and deep brown eyes staring back at him. He looked pretty casual with his uniform, a tie tight around his neck and a determined gaze that barely softened at a smile.

“I’m sorry! I got lost in my thoughts.” Nagito held his hands out, nervous. “You may want to try a different vending machine though. This one ate my change, unfortunately. Ah what bad luck.”

“Really? It was working fine earlier.” The boy frowned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. “What were you trying to get?”

“You don’t have to do that for me, it’s alright.” Nagito quickly tried to shoot him down. “I don’t want you to waste your money on me or on-”

“I offered, didn’t I?” The boy gave him a sharp look and Nagito bit his tongue. He had a feeling that trying to get the boy to look the other way wasn’t going to happen here. He placed his hands down and moved to the side. “What were you getting?” He asked again, slipping the coins into the machine, the metal clanging on metal the only other noises that broke the silence between them.

“A Dr. Hopper.” The boy raised an eyebrow, and Nagito shrugged helplessly. “Haha, I needed the caffeine.”

“Huh. I don’t usually drink carbonated drinks, but...I’ll take your word for it I guess.” The boy replied. “I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?”

“I’m sure that if we had I’d remember you,” Nagito replied. “After all you’re in Hopes Peak Academy, you must have some sort of talent.”

The boy grimaced. “Yeah... talent.” Oh. Maybe he wasn’t all that thrilled of what he could do. Nagito met other students like that. Always trying to tug at fate’s design, wanting more than a set-in stone path. Nagito thought that was also very hopeful of them. To try to defy the expectations of others! Sometimes it took the roundabout way of realizing that their soulmate was indeed the right one for them, or that their talent was actually what they needed all along. “Sorry, that came out a little-”

“No no! It’s okay to be disgruntled. I don’t like my talent either sometimes. It’s not as inspiring as some of my classmate’s.” Nagito assured. “Being the Ultimate Lucky student may have its perks, but...well they’re only like that when it’s a good day.”

“Like you were enrolled from the lottery right?” The boy pressed the button for an Dr. Hopper and both of them waited on baited breath. “Huh, you’re right. It was stuck.”

“See I to-”

Two cans of Dr. Hopper immediately rolled out into the dispenser. The boy and Nagito both stared at the machine for a bit. Nagito wasn’t expecting the good luck to come at him so quickly, and the boy was probably just stunned that he got to see his luck in action. The boy shrugged and bent down. He tossed both of the cans at Nagito. Not used to having things thrown at him, Nagtio juggled to try to catch both of them, and reminded himself not to open them for a while. Just so that they wouldn’t explode over his face.

“I’m Hinata Hajime. I’m friends with Nanami Chiaki.” Hinata introduced.

“I’m Komaeda Nagito. Your friends with someone in my class then. She’s the Ultimate Gamer. She’s so inspiring! I know that when she gets out into the world, she’s going to have such a fantastic hope shine through for all of us.” Nagito beamed.

Hinata shook his head, “What’s so inspiring about someone that takes a nap wherever?” He asked. “She drools too.”

“Bullying women,” Nagito teased, but his expression turned a little dark. He wasn’t sure if the word “friend” was what Hinata actually meant now. “That’s not very cool.”

“I’m sure she pokes fun at me sometimes, but I’ll lay off.” Hinata relented as he reached into his pocket again. “Do you like it in Hope’s Peak?”

“Hmm. My classmates can be a handful.” Nagito didn’t miss the fact that the boy said “in Hope’s Peak”. He wondered if Hinata ditched a lot to practice his talent, or perhaps he was a loner type and maybe him “bullying” Nanami was actually showing affection in a stageneted way. He wasn’t sure. Nagito realized that he didn’t...exactly reach out to his classmates the same way Hinata seemed to reach out to his friend. Probably a good thing. Closeness was just another way to make things worse. “Midori-san has taken over the music room again, and is driving Akamatsu-san and Maizono-san up the wall with her music. They can’t concentrate when Mioda-san is in there.”

“I think I heard about that. She’s trying to come up with a few new songs to perform for the exams right? Or is she doing this to get them recorded and sold?” Hinata asked curiously. The vending machine rumbled and another can came out from the dispenser. He knelt down quickly and Nagito caught sight that it was orange juice.

Nagito shrugged, “I’m not sure. She keeps changing her mind as to what she wants to do.”

“That sounds like her. Sorry to cut this short, but I gotta get back.”

“No. I’m sorry for being such a bother!” Nagito grinned. “Thank you for taking your time to talk to someone as unworthy as me.”

“Really? You shouldn’t put yourself down that much.” Hinata shook his head. “Later.”

“Bye bye.” Nagito couldn’t wave since his hands were full, but he watched Hinata walk away from the vending machine. Now that he was actually staring at the boy, he noticed a glimmer of red that was attached to the boy’s pinky. A red that...seemingly trailed off behind and headed for Nagito. He blinked slowly. So this was his soulmate. Hinata didn’t turn around, but he did jerk his wrist a couple of times. Maybe to assure himself that his soulmate didn’t disappear?

Oh what luck! Unfortunately it was bad luck because Nagito’s hands were full, but hopefully he was able to give a weak tug to tell his soulmate (to tell Hinata) that he was still there. Now he really needed to find out what sort of talent Hinata Hajime had, and why he wasn’t interested in Hope’s Peak.

                                                            X

Luckily for Nagito, most of his classmates chose today of all days to work on their talents. Which meant that the only person that was in the classroom was Chiaki. She probably was only there because she had just recently met up with Hinata, and didn’t want to go back to her dorms since they were probably a bit of a walk. It wasn’t that Chiaki was lazy in any sort of the means, even if she had a tendency to be tired and liked to nap wherever she could. She was working hard on her talent and it was easy to have energy levels drained.

She was currently working on her talent right now, and Nagito never felt blessed than to see someone being dedicated to their talent. He could hear the 16-bit music play through the console’s speakers as he approached and sat down across from her. He stayed silent and waited for her to glance up at him, not wanting to disturb an Ultimate hard at work.

Again, luck appeared to be on his side. Usually Nanami would take a while before she would look up at someone. “Hey, hey.” She greeted, her tone holding a sweet delicacy that could harden in any given moment. “How are you, Komaeda-kun?”

“I’m doing well, Nanami-san.” Nagito grinned. “How are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I’m having some problems with this level that I’m on, but I think I may have sped through a certain side-quest and I didn’t get it all the way done properly to get the item. I might have to go back and see if that’s the case, or if I misread the map of this dungeon.” Nanami hummed in displeasure, “Is there something that you need?”

“Ah, I don’t want to disturb you if you’re having a hard time with your game, Nanami-san. I know that you’ll do splendidly though! Your talent will shine right through when you get through that level for sure.”  Nagito assured, deciding that maybe he was being a bother after all.

Nanami, though, was just as unpredictable as she was predictable. “It’s alright. I need the break. You look like you’re on cloud nine. Did something good happen with your luck?” Unpredictable and observant. Sometimes Nagito forgot that just because her eyes were glued to the screen didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of her surroundings.

“Ahaha. There’s a chance. I had a question for you, if I may ask. You’re friends with someone named Hinata Hajime aren’t you? He was at the vending machine not too long ago and I ran into him there.”

“Hajime-kun?” Oh so they were close friends if they were using first names. Nagito filed that information away. “He’s a nice guy. He can get a little temperamental, but his heart is in the right place. Why do you ask? Did something happen? Nothing bad,” Chiaki mused, “otherwise you wouldn’t look so happy as you do now.”

“Am I really that much of an open book to you Namami-san?” Nagito asked, rhetorically. “I was curious to know what class he’s in, or what talent he could possess.”

“Hmm…” Nanami reached up and tugged her hoodie over her head, looking downcast. Nagito blinked. Did his soulmate somehow manage to do the unthinkable and get expelled from Hope’s Peak? Had he hated his talent so much that he would go that far to try to destroy it? Nagito tugged subconsciously on the soulmate string, trying to make sure it was still there. It was horrible luck on his side, wasn’t it? To have a soulmate that would probably throw away any and all talent to the side because of something that happened. He wondered how Hinata must have felt knowing that he had a soulmate that was an Ultimate and a part of the school that tossed him to the side.

Maybe this struggle that he was going through would be the stepping stone for something much brighter and sunnier on the other side. “Is something wrong, Nanami-san? You’ve been quiet for a while now...did I cross a line?”

“It’s not that. I just...don’t know how to word it properly. For example, I don’t want to lose our friend rating, but I don’t want to lose Hajime-kun’s friend’s stats too. I worked hard to get to where we are now.” Nanami bit her lower lip. “I mean, it’s not a secret or anything. It’s just hard to talk about.”

“If it’s that personal, then I won’t pry.” Nagito shook his head firmly. “I didn’t mean to cause you distress.”

“You’re his soulmate though, aren’t you? That’s why you’re asking the question. You keep playing with your pinky finger so...I can only assume that you and Hajime-kun are metaphorically and literally tied together.” Nanami  pointed out, rubbing the side of her eye. She looked like she was about to pass out, but she kept herself straight. “This is probably something that’s going to come up sooner or later anyway...I think. So it should be okay to tell you.” She nodded. “Hajime-kun is part of the Reserve Course.”

Nagito blinked slowly. Talentless. His soulmate was a coat-rider of the brilliant and of the shining. Of course his bad luck would turn for the worst. Of course he wasn’t lucky enough to get a man that was talented as he was brilliant. No wonder Hinata was cold towards Hope’s Peak! “Hahaha. What awful luck.” Nagito stood up. “Thank you for telling me, Nanami-san. It appears I have some thinking to do.”

“Don’t cut the thread.”

Nagito froze just as he was about to walk away from the desk. He paused and looked over his shoulders at her. Nanami lowered her head and averted her expression, clutching at the side of her hood. “What do you mean, Nanami-san? What makes you think I’d cut the thread?”

“I don’t know, it’s just something you would do I think.” Nanami frowned. “Hajime-kun...is very attached to his soulmate. He wouldn’t ever try to hurt you. He’ll be sharp sometimes, and hard to understand, but...you should give him a chance. Talentless or not. Besides, I think that it brings a lot of hope that he’s talentless.”

“How would being talentless bring hope, Nanami-san?” Nagito tilted his head, his curiosity still evident.

“Hmm. Maybe it’s just me but, if you could have the ability to be anything that you wanted without someone telling you that’s exactly who you are...there’s a lot of potential there, I think anyway.” Nanami mused thoughtfully. “Which means that he has more of a reach when it comes to spreading hope. You shouldn’t judge people for where they are in business or in school. It’s more hopeful to look at them from a different perspective and see what they can become, I think.”

Nagito wondered if that was true. Being talented meant a lot in this world. It was a way to spread hope and brightness, yes, but no one wanted someone without talent. That was mundane. Those types of people could be found on street corners and in alleyways. Nagito couldn’t imagine, couldn’t fathom not having talent. His parents didn’t have talent and look where it got them, killed in a plane crash and burned beyond recognition.

Hinata Hajime had nothing to protect himself with, and there was no way he had that much hope. “You’re kinder than I am, Nanami-san.” Nagito said after a moment. “To see things that way.”

“I don’t think it’s that hard…” Nanami mused thoughtfully. “But just...think about it. Okay? Don’t do anything rash.”

Nagito nodded, “I’ll see you around.” He didn’t offer a wave as he walked out of his classroom, shoulders heavy with thought.

Maybe it would be best to not go seeking out his soulmate after all.

                                                                X

Here’s the thing about luck. It swings. It swings high and then it swings low. For every bad piece of luck there was always good luck to follow. That’s just how the world went and Nagito was used to it, however he wasn’t used to the way that it was showing up. He kept running into Hajime soon after that conversation. He didn’t try to go out of his way to have a conversation. If their eyes somehow met, he would give a nod and continue on his merry way, but he tried to keep Hinata Hajime at a good arm’s distance away from him. He ignored the tugs of his string to the point where the string was starting to lose its luster. The brilliant ruby red that used to bring Nagito so much joy was turning a dull maroon. Nagito felt a tug in his heart a few times to just...maybe tug on it. Maybe encourage it to not fray. However, he couldn’t step out of his mindset that perhaps this was for the best.

One night, while lying in bed, sleep was far away from him as it possibly could get. Nagito looked at the string on his finger and knew that it was only a matter of time before he was soulmate-less and unclaimed. He wondered how that would be for Hinata, and for himself. Soulmates that didn’t tend to their bonds or try to encourage the person on the other side would lose their marks. Some would smudge and fade. Some would just turn to a different person that was soulmate less too. He wondered what would happen if the string fell off of his pinky.

Would he be reclaimed by someone more deserving of him? Would he be alone in the world? Nagito had thought that he would die in the comfort of his soulmate’s arms considering how sick he was, and he thought that his soulmate would be there for him at the hospital visits, just like Nagito would dream and hope that his soulmate would want him to be there for them. It would be his luck though wouldn’t it, if Nagito was left alone. It was his choice, he could live with it.

He turned, about to go to sleep when he felt a couple of tugs against his pinky, almost pleading. Almost like Hinata was praying that someone on the other end would just...give in. Nagito wondered what would make him persist. What kind of hope did a dull string show? Nagito glanced at his cellphone on his bedside and noticed that there was a notification that was on the screen. Blinking, he picked up the phone.

The number that was there was unknown.

Could this be the good luck, or incoming bad?

Unknown: Sorry to bother you late at night Komaeda-kun, Chiaki-chan gave me your number and told me to talk to you. She said that you also have a string that’s been acting weird.

So Nanami didn’t say anything to Hinata about the string. Nagito thought for a moment about ignoring it, deleting it.

Komaeda: It’s just one of those types of bad luck I’m afraid.

Unknown: Have you tried to tug at them? Ask them if they’re okay? I’ve been doing that, but I’m being ignored. Or maybe they can’t respond because they’re sick. I don’t know. Anyway, I didn’t mean to suddenly bother you about this. Chiaki-chan just told me that you’d get it more.

Komaeda: I haven’t. Tried to tug at it I mean. Actually, Hinata-kun may I ask you a question?

Unknown: Sure. Shoot.

Komaeda: Do you think it’s possible to be disappointed in your soul mate?

Unknown: Well if I’m being ignored then yes, I’m severely disappointed because I don’t know what’s happening and we’re not talking or letting me know that everything’s okay. If something happened and they were sick, I’d be more disappointed in myself for not knowing who they were to begin with and being there for them when they needed me. Makes sense?

That…

Komaeda: I think perhaps there was a misunderstanding. I meant to ask, is it possible to be disappointed in your soulmate who...isn’t who you think they are?

Nagito watched the three dots appear and disappear on his phone screen for some time. He wondered if Hinata had the same feelings and was typing out a novel, or was going to go for a whole spiel that his soul mate couldn’t possibly be as bad as he hoped.

Unknown: I think that depends on what kind of pedestal you put them on to begin with. For me, I just want someone to be my friend. I’m not relying on the string to tell me that I’m loved. I don’t want that. I want my soul mate to prove it with their actions, their words, and I’d do the same for them. Can I be disappointed in looks? Maybe? I mean I fantasized what they might’ve looked like, but again imagination and real life don’t equal.

That was…

Komaeda: For someone as talentless as you, you certainly hold a lot of hope don’t you?

Unknown: I was wondering when that was going to be brought up.

Nanami must’ve in turn told Hinata that Nagito knew about him being talentless. He didn’t mind, it was going to come up eventually, he supposed. He wondered why he was even still talking. There was no point in conversing with someone that would just ride on the glory of the others who worked hard to get where they were.

Yet he was still glued to the phone and decided to respond.

Komaeda: Don’t you feel ashamed being friends with Nanami-san?

Unknown: No, but I’m sure she feels like she could be ashamed of me sometimes. Have you seen her get angry if you manage to beat her at a game?

How many times was Nagito going to get whiplashed emotionally in this conversation? The Ultimate Gamer, beaten? That was unheard of, that wasn’t supposed to happen! He would have to check in on Nanami later and see if she was feeling alright. Maybe Hinata caught her when she was sick or out of it. Sometimes, Nagito worried that Nanami didn’t get enough sleep or enough TLC for herself.

Komaeda: Really? You beat the Ultimate Gamer?

Unknown: Chiaki-chan doesn’t care about winning or losing, she cares about having fun. She cares if other people are having fun too. I’m sure she threw some of the games to give me a fighting chance, or at the very least played casually so that I could keep up with her.

Oh that made a lot more sense. The relief that Nagito felt was instantaneous. Nanami certainly lived up to her Ultimate then. It...made him wonder though why she would be so kind to do that for someone that was talentless. He saw her gather some of their classmates together for a friendly game of smash, and she kicked all of their asses. Of course, there were times where she didn’t play at all, and stood in the background, happy to watch.

Komaeda: She’s a good friend to you it seems.

Unknown: I try to be a good friend back. That being said, you sound like your soulmate did something to make you upset.

Komaeda: Found out that they were unworthy of my time.

Unknown: …….

Unknown: Did you even give them a chance?

Komaeda: Why should I? I don’t think you understand Hinata-kun, but those who are talentless should know their place. They should be watching us and be our stepping stones for the betterment of hope! They get to see what we can do and I think that’s amazing as is, but they shouldn’t be trying to get in our way.

Unknown: I pity your soulmate, Komaeda.

Unknown: Because that’s pretty fucking shallow.

Unknown: I’m sure they would be amazed by you and your talent, as baffling as it is.

Unknown: And maybe you're pushing them away because you think that something bad can happen to them because of your talent.

Nanami must have told him that.

Unknown: Chiaki-chan told me that your luck swings back and forth right? For every bad comes a good or something? I don’t really get it, I never thought luck could be a talent, let alone a power, but I saw enough weirdness going in and out of Hope’s peak and I’m just a guest there.

A guest? Komaeda blinked.

Unknown: Did you want to know something?

Unknown: I could’ve taken a chance to be at Hope’s Peak.

Unknown: I could’ve had talent and be in the same class as you.

Unknown: Chiaki-chan met me that day at a fountain, I was heavily debating about whether or not I wanted to take a chance.

Unknown: Because to have that talent.

Unknown: Hinata Hajime would disappear.

Unknown: I wouldn’t know my friends.

Unknown: My family.

Unknown: I would be a completely different person than I am now. I couldn’t take that risk. I couldn’t throw away everything.

Unknown: Because I know for a fact I would’ve lost my soulmate too.

Nagito stared at the wall of text that had suddenly been spammed in front of him. Hope’s Peak offered...a method to get talent but in order to do that, Hinata would’ve had to lose everything? Komaeda looked at the string that was on his pinky, a dull maroon that was starting to get some color back. Maybe it was the trick of the moonlight that was currently streaming through his window.

How was he supposed to respond to that? It was absolutely insane to just toss that sort of opportunity to the side. Yet Hinata thought about all of the people he would have left behind because of the glory of talent. What did that mean?

Nagito thought for a moment.

Komaeda: How do you think I should try to reconnect to my soulmate?

Unknown: Normally I tug on my string. I usually give three tugs to show that I care. Sometimes I tug on it when I’m nervous or if I’m just trying to see if I can get some support when I’m thinking or emotional or something.

Unknown: My soul mate and I kinda had a system. Well I had a system. I don’t think my soulmate really understood it.

Unknown: I’d tug on it once for acknowledgement. Twice to say goodbye or goodnight. Three times to say I care, and four times to ask if they were alright.

Komaeda: Oh.

Unknown: Yeah. Anyway. Good luck with your soulmate. Hopefully mine will show up.

Nagito glanced at his pinky and carefully wrapped the string into his hand. He took a breath and gave a tight tug. Once. Twice.

The cellphone in his lap rang and Nagito quickly grabbed it.

“You were my soulmate this entire time asshole!” Hinata’s voice whispered-shouted, but Nagito could hear the humor laced in anger. “I thought it was you. You were that upset huh? That wasn’t what you thought?”

“I thought it was my bad luck.” Nagito hummed thoughtfully. “But...Hinata-kun certainly has a lot of hope...and for some reason decided to turn down a chance to be as amazing as everyone else. It makes me curious as to why.”

“No reasons besides the ones I gave you, but if you’re willing to try to figure it out, I suppose we could...talk it over.” Hinata said evenly. “I’m not expecting us to be close right away, Komaeda-kun.”

“Friends then for now.” Komaeda agreed. “I suppose the next step is to figure out a better code with that string. I honestly had no idea you had a technique on trying to get a hold of me.”

“Man, I think I’m the only one that actually thought about it too.” Hinata sighed. “Yeah okay; we’ll talk code when we hang out. When’s a good time for you?”

“Hmm. Whenever you want.” Nagito mused. “I don’t want to be too much of a bother.”

“You're bothering me, alright.”

Nagito hung up the phone and grinned amused when he saw a text message on his screen.

Hinata: Dick.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of the Wolf Epilogue

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 3k

Warnings: Language, sexual references and... hallucinations, or are they?

A/N: The end of a journey, but the start of a new one! To all those that stuck around till the end -I’m sorry for taking so long- and y’all are the best! Check the link at the end to read the blurb for the sequel.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

~

You laid in Derek’s bed watching the first glimmers of daybreak scatter over his velvet sheets. His mouth was parted slightly as he took long, drawn out breaths in his sleep. You hugged your knees to your breast, taking in the peaceful silence.

With the last of the hunters lost to the winds, you were unsure of what going back to normal meant.

Were you just supposed to go back to your newly-moved-in apartment and unpack the last few boxes you left on the floor? Then what? Spend the rest of your days spaying cats and clipping outgrown nails? Somehow the prospect of returning to how things used to be felt a little underwhelming.

What about Derek? He was still a wanted man in four states. Still a criminal in the eyes of the law. Was it safe for him to stay? Would he stay?

As you pondered your future, Derek stirred from sleep, a groan emanating from his chest.

“Morning,” you whispered over your knees.

He smiled at you, “Morning.”

He sat up to lean against his headboard, chiselled chest in full view.

You blushed, remembering the kiss in the woods and how sexy his glistening muscles made him look.

He splayed his arms wide for you to crawl under, the red rash slowly forming on his forearm identical to Peter’s. Scratch marks present from when he was asleep, digging his nails into his irritated flesh.

You tucked yourself under his strong frame, trailing fingers over the snaking flesh. You shuddered. It didn’t feel right.

Derek kissed the top of your head, chasing your worries to the back of your mind.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked, keeping your eyes trained on the growing rash.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, stroking the bony trail of your neck. “But I know I don’t want to go back.”

You smiled, “Neither do I.”

Something writhed under his skin and you started from the contact it had with the pads of your fingers.

“What are we going to do about this?” you poked his arm.

He dismissed it nonchalantly, “As long as it doesn’t kill me, I don’t care.”

You hummed in thought.

Derek seemed more carefree, less burdened. You felt deprived of this side of him, wishing you had known he possessed such calmness underneath his brooding façade earlier.

“You’re still a wanted man you know,” you reminded him.

“And you’re a vet with a clinic in disrepair,” he retorted.

“So…” you looked up to meet his green eyes. “What do we do about that?”

Derek kissed your lips, twining his fingers with yours, “I’ve actually been having this reoccurring dream.”

“Oh yeah?” you arched a brow.

“Mmm-hmm. It’s about us actually.”

“Us?” you felt comfortable saying the words, it scared you how normal it felt on your tongue.

Derek noticed how casually you said it too, it made his smile grow, “Yeah, us. We’re always alone, just the two of us, with nothing but a map, a camping tent and two backpacks.”

“That sounds… a lot like my childhood actually.”

“That’s not the best part. Every morning we wake up somewhere new. And on the last day, we pitch our tent in front of this magnificent waterfall, surrounded by nothing but free open spaces and curious coyotes.”

“You had me till coyotes.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest, “They tend to steer clear of wolves. A hierarchy thing.”

“Ahh,” you said, drawing circles around his abdomen.

“How about it?” He asked, eyes peering into yours. He looked vulnerable.

“What? Leave Beacon Hills, disappear for a while to go on a hiking trip with a guy I just slept with?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m more than a piece of meat you know.”

“I know. Not many people would go to such lengths to help a total stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger to me. I’m beginning to doubt if you ever were.”

“God! It seems like years ago that I pulled that bullet from right here–” you poked the spot that once looked mangled and bloody from a bullet wound.

Derek jerked, finding your touch ticklish.

“Well?” he asked again.

What he was asking of you was to be someone you weren’t. Someone spontaneous and adventurous and not someone who was calculating and a meticulous planner. He was asking you to take a chance on whatever warm feeling was spreading through your body right as the golden glow of the sunrise bathed your naked bodies.

The rational part of your brain was telling you ‘No!’. Warning you not to be swept up in the moment like a hopeless romantic.

Be with him, but don’t put everything on hold for him, the rational voice said.

Oh, for once in your life don’t listen to her, follow your heart, be bold… give yourself a shot at being happy again. Lord knows you’ve earned it, the dying remnants of your fun-loving college girl years argued against the other voice.

You held his gaze for a long pause, trying to weigh the options. In the end, it was his unexpected kiss that decided things for you.

“What the hell!” you cast caution to the wind. “Yeah, let's go see some mountains together or some shit.”

“Yeah?” Derek was grinning now.

“Yeah!”

And with that, he rolled you onto your back and kissed you passionately.

On the bedside table, vibrating incessantly was Derek’s phone. Caller ID stating it was Stiles trying to get ahold of him for the sixth time in a row. Derek ignored the call and chucked his phone into his clothes hamper before he lowered himself between your thighs.

 ~Two Months Later

“Where to next?” you pulled out the map and placed it next to the lantern propped up on a foldable table.

Derek looked at the map then back at you, a cheeky smile on his face.

You knew that look. That was the look that told you he wanted to be doing something else besides plotting out points on the heavily marked map.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and bit his lip, “Why bother with ‘next’ when we can just enjoy the beautiful view right here.”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the rolling hill ranges that spanned for miles and miles.

“It is a beautiful view,” you agreed.

He placed a kiss to your shoulder, “That’s not the view I was talking about.”

Heat flushed to your cheeks, “Ever the charmer.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m only charming for you,” he kissed the crook of your neck, mouth sucking on the sensitive flesh until you were certain it would leave love bites.

You moaned, but then forced yourself to not be swept up in his incendiary touches, “Ah-ah, Derek. Map. Next destination. Focus.”

You chastised him with a playful smack and he huffed, “Easy for you to say. Focusing is the last thing I’m capable of doing right now. It doesn’t help that you smell like the wild –cedar and freshwater. It’s intoxicating.” He breathed in the scent around your hair.

God, he was making it hard for you to focus as well.

You cleared your throat, “Well you’re just going to have to reign yourself in, Romeo.”

“You’re so persistent,” he whined dramatically. “Okay, you really want a destination.”

“Yes, please.”

“How about here—“ he circled Beacon Hills with his finger.

“Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Deaton’s finished with the repairs. I’m a free man again. Maybe we should think about taking this thing we got going back to a more permanent setting.”

Your eyes widened, “Are you suggesting…?”

“I’m saying I want us to move in together,” he said it so boldly you almost wondered if he knew asking someone to move in with him wasn’t the same as asking them to share a closet space.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he revealed. “When I’m not thinking of all the things I want to do to you.” He playfully nipped your earlobe before stretching back into his relaxed pose.

Your voice was torn between panicked and husky, “Living together is a huge commitment Derek, it’s not—“

“I’m committed to you, almost devoutly so. It scares me sometimes,” he laughed awkwardly. “Besides, aren’t we practically sharing a living space right now?”

Your mouth hung open. He’s got you there.

He sighed longingly, “Waking up next to you, sharing meals with you, fighting over which way’s East or West or South or… you get the idea. I want more of that. In a house or apartment, or loft even, just as long as it has walls, a sturdy bed and you.”

You giggled, happiness spreading through you.

His face turned serious just then, his hand taking yours, “I want those things with you more than I’ve ever wanted them with someone else. I—“

Suddenly his phone rang and Derek sighed, annoyance taking over his features as he looked at the caller ID.

“It’s Stiles,” he told you. “I gotta take this. It’s probably about him closing my case. If it’s not… I’ll kill him.”

Derek shot you an apologetic look and then crawled out from under your shared tent. You went back to reading the names of all the places you’d yet to visit

Yellowstone, North Beach Campground, Crystal Cove, Derek wants us to move in together… Derek wants us to move in together! This is all happening too fast… Am I being paranoid? I mean… we are technically living together since we share a tent, but then again—

 Derek walked a few paces until he reached the crystal waters of the lake, with a lazy grunt he plopped down on top of the stony shore, pressing accept on his phone’s screen.

“Stiles, this had better have been important,” he grumbled, his frown baring down on his face for what felt like the first time in aeons.

“Wow, missed you too buddy, long time –how’s the weather over there? The mountains mountainy enough for ya?” Stiles retorted.

“I mean it, Stiles,” Derek warned.

“I was just calling to let you know you’re case has now been dead-filed. You’re a free man again.”

“I thought I was a free man weeks ago?”

“Yeah, but now its legally-filed-paperwork official with a stamp and a seal and everything. A public apology will be made by my department in a few days.”

“Okay then. Good to know. Now if you don’t mind I have something to get back to so…” Derek waited for Stiles to hang up but he didn’t. From the weird pause on his end of the line, Derek knew Stiles was fumbling to say something. “What is it, Stiles?”

“Have you told her yet?”

There was a pregnant pause, Derek looked at the odd, reddened symbol that moved under his skin on his forearm and then over to your happy, stress-free face under the tent.

“I’m going to. I just haven’t found the right time.”

“You can’t keep this a secret forever. Someone’s going to wonder why Peter had a mental breakdown and left for Kathmandu. What if that happens to you?”

“Peter is a drama queen. He’s fine.”

“But you aren’t. You know what that mark means.”

“I know.”

“And I won’t keep this from the others forever.”

“I know.”

“You’re one of them now.”

“I know!”

“Just… don’t carry this on your own. Secrets have never brought anything good to the pack. And yeah I get it, you know.” Stiles hung up.

Derek took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t heard his little outburst. He was relieved when he saw you fully immersed in the map laid out before you, a toothy grin lighting up your face.

“You should listen to your friend,” a raspy, unwelcome voice spoke. Derek was still getting used to the new voice in his head. “Secrets are dangerous.”

Derek turned to the source of the voice, seeing Alyster’s thin face and skinny form standing next to him. Dead and incorporeal. A supernatural hallucination reserved solely for him.

Derek snorted, “That’ll go easy over dinner. Oh, babe, you know that guy who was trying to murder you, murdered your boyfriend and almost killed everyone you've ever loved? Yeah, turns out he was right. Killing him didn’t mean he’d stay dead. Now he’s a voice in my head that I can talk to from time to time,” Derek sneered sarcastically before continuing on his rant: "I pretty much took his place. Don't worry though, I'm not alone in this. Peter's gone insane and secluded himself behind the doors of some spiritualist convent in Kathmandu. Would you like some bread?"

Alyster’s skin-crawling laugh trickled out making Derek’s neck prickle in discomfort.

“It does sound ridiculous when you put it that way,” a smirk stretched at Alyster’s mouth tightly. “But it could be worse. You could have Astrid inside your head instead.”

Derek ran a hand over his face and groaned, “Just… go burrow back into my subconscious and do… whatever it is dead men do when they’re trapped in someone else’s mind.”

“Wither,” Alyster said darkly. “We wither.”

A gust of wind blew in from the East, an odd sensation to it. Derek’s wolf instincts went rampant, he didn’t know what was making him so agitated. It was like a shrill, ultrasonic sonic sound had bored a hole into his head and lit his nose on fire. Derek tried to exhale the scent away in strong bursts, his hands placed to his ears to block out that painful noise. Nothing seemed to be working.

The rash on his arm turned solid, finally ending its repetitive cycle of writhing and wriggling. The itch had refrained. Then, after Derek was sure that he could practically hear the buzz of light’s frequency, everything shut off and his senses returned to normal. A stream of blood ran down from his nose and ears.

“What the fuck was that?”

Alyster’s face turned grave, “That was the First Coming.”

 ~Kathmandu 

The meditative instructor at the retreat sat in front of Peter with his legs crossed in the lotus position, a large statue of a praying Buddha was erected barely a stone’s throw away.

“Breathe in,” the teacher instructed the class. “And out.”

Peter repeated the actions, trying to silence the incessant ramblings of Astrid’s consciousness now bunking with his own.

“Du bör sluta slösa bort din tid,” Astrid said in Swedish.

I keep telling you, I don’t know what you’re saying! Peter shouted back in his head. And shut up, I’m trying to focus on my breathing! 

”And breathe in,” the teacher parroted. ”And now breathe out all your worries and stresses, feel them ebb away.”¨

”Oh, does my speaking Swedish annoy you?” Astrid remarked with bitterness. ”How insensitive of me. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. Would you like me to fetch you a towel for all that sweat? Maybe a glass of water with a slice of lemon? Oh! No, wait... I can’t do those things because you stabbed me in the heart with a stake!” Astrid patronised him, her voice so loud inside his head.

You deserved it!

Peter ground his teeth together in the hopes she’d be drowned out by the sound of molars filing down on one another.

”And now we’ll take in one deep breath and hold it,” the teacher said.

Peter held his breath.

Astrid’s pitch went flat, “All this breathing and more breathing seems to be working. I feel very relaxed here. Namaste.”

Peter saw her hallucinatory projection bow mockingly at the instructor's feet. Peter held back a laugh.

”Silence please,” the teacher chastised when he heard Peter’s breathy laugh.

Yeah, you heard him, silence wench! Peter mocked at Astrid.

Astrid rolled her eyes, “I was being silent. You’re the one who can’t internalise his laughs.”

Whose fault is that? It’s not like my brain isn’t crowded enough already.

”I warned you my kind doesn’t die, you chose to shove that stake into my heart anyway. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours,” she bit back.

”Keep holding,” the teacher said.

Maybe if you weren’t a homicidal bitch!

”Hold,” the teacher repeated.

 “Maybe if you weren’t a homicidal bastard!”

”And, release,” the teacher said serenely.

”Shut up!” Peter barked, startling the class. He scrunched his face and plastered on a charming smile, “Terribly sorry, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Astrid snickered with pride, “Yeah, tell them you were talking to a dead woman that lives in your head, go on, tell them!”

Peter stood from the cushion and bowed to the rest of the class, “I think I’ll be retiring to my quarters. Namaste.”

The entire class looked at him with wide eyes, all their voices quaking from shock and surprise, “N- Namaste.”

Peter rolled his eyes and walked away, We really need to set some ground rules.

“Don’t see why, I’m having a great time,” Astrid shrugged. “I’d rather be in your head, roaming around like some phantom than spend my eternity with the love of my life.”

Suddenly, a high pitched, nearly immobilising sound pierced through Peter’s skull like a hot poker. His eardrums vibrated so frantically he was certain they’d burst. An odd taste filled his mouth and he felt like he’d just swallowed a whole tub of wasabi.

“Gahhh!” he clenched down as he lost his footing and fell through a paper wall. “What is that?”

His claws started growing out of their own accord, eyeballs aching from internalised pressure. Then suddenly it stopped.

Peter picked himself up off the floor and looked down at all the blood that had soaked into his shirt from his nose alone. It was like a murder scene. One of his eyes went bloodshot.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed, her voice chillier than ice, “She has awoken.”

“Who?” Peter asked the ghostly woman, ignoring all the scared faces in the crowd clamouring around him.

“The First Coming.”

Out through the window, Peter could see a flock of birds swarming in a frenzied spiral, their cawing noises irritating his wolfish hearing.

“Well… fuck!” Peter spat the blood out of his mouth and stormed out of the retreat. “It was nice knowing you Buddha.” He threw a piece sigh up to the giant statue, his rash taking on the coherent form of an unmoving symbol.

 ~Below the Mother Three

Worms wiggled out of the earth, screaming inaudibly as they left the solace of the rotting tree. Black mould had webbed across the ancient tree’s trunk like a mossy blanket, bringing with it a foul stench of decay.

Below the surface horizon, root tendrils began to shrivel and rot, turning into puddles of fermenting tree sap. Deep down, at the centre of the trees dying rhizomes, was buried a sarcophagus. A symbol harkening the end of days was chiselled into the stone lid.

Under the airless, lightless, soundless seal of the ancient casket was a mummified body wrapped in black cloth. The inside of the sarcophagus shook, tremors from the earth forcing cracks onto the stone.

Softly, painfully, a single breath was taken and the earth would never be the same.

 This story continues in: Covet of the Wolf

 tags: @melissavercos @divisingstories @theflash-trash @mynamesalreadytaken @island-end @chipster-21 @helloscorpious  @marvelismyfantasy @anonymousfanfics-blog @homra-the-red-clan @derangedangel @phonegalhelp @bowtiesandwhiskers @soldierwinterthe @alina-barnes @sumlariss @luckythepizzadog4444 @tlytxia @drunklili @iamabeautifulperson18 @zenawa @squadkyoya @cassandraevans @moli1497 @wanderlust-travler @143amberrose @humbledarkness @rockyrocket15 @4llmywr1tings @smolbeanfive @500daysofbecky @smolbeanfive

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees 

[csockets]

Prompt Challenge With Friends

I invited my friends, @bluemoonfantasiesii and @mahi-does-some-art, to join me in a writing a prompt posted on @write-it-motherfuckers‘s lovely blog~~

WIM, thank you for all your hard work!! I’ve always liked the prompts you’ve posted and sometimes I’d get inspired but I was never crazy inspired, you know? But until I saw “darling really” and there was such a sassiness that I couldn't help but like and I just, really wanted to writing something to go with it!! Low and behold, I did write something and I got to read my friends work in the process!

So, many thanks to Master WIM! Please enjoy my work under the keep reading line!!

The Prompt Used

Note: The characters  and the location: Loystin, are of my own creation! Azben Katrina is my OC not actually me! Adalant and Marcie are twin sisters. The Baboon King is a creature; an image I picked up from Google, used for reference then named it such because honestly, the creature looked baboonish lmao. Also, the world just might be it really is im sorry lmao heavily inspired by my sudden obsession with MXTX couples and the Xianxia novel genre. Any other questions can be answered through reblog, reply, or an ask!

Warnings: Minor blood and gore, profanity, possible same sex flirting, violence and probably more but im not too worried so *shrugs*

Adalant swore immediately.

“Why the fuck are we here?”

Azben grinned, tapping her chin with an elongated nail.

“To do a lil fun.”

Adalant growled, glaring heatedly at the huffing warrior.

“But you were sworn to ho--”

“Lalala, I can't hear you, lala--”

“You--”

“LALALA--” She laughed loudly, leaning back to avoid the swipe of Adalant’s bat, nail head plucking at the fabric of her robes. She took a step back and straightened, amused at Adalant’s ruffledness.

“House arrest. I will get in trouble.” She said edgedly, sharp as she turned away and made for the forest ahead of them.

Azben huffed a breath, catching up to Adalant’s side. “Yea, but leave it to me! I have a plan~!” She smiled and winked, bumping their shoulders affectionately. Adalant shied away, hissing angirly, swinging her bat to rest on her shoulder, trudging forward, not making an effort to actually lead her friend back. While Adalant and Azben were on equal footing for almost anything, Azben had her beat in quick wits, her need to make jokes and ruffles feathers and rub them the wrong way, the desperate need to make chaos everywhere, absolutely being the clown was Azben’s job and talent. Adalant sighed and let go of her annoyance at being tricked once more, especially tricked into getting Azben off the estate.

She glanced at her partner, watching her eyes crincial with laughter in the corner, green eyes dark with mirth, looking ahead. Her lips were constantly pulled into a smile, large and bright, yet teasing, maybe a half-smirk if you wanted to look at it that way.

“What are we hunting?” She asked, becoming eager for the fight ahead of them, suddenly excited by the thrill that fluttered fleetingly in her chest.

“The Baboon King.” Azben said idly, like she didn't just suggest that they take on a dragon level disaster that was claimed by Adalant’s sister two days ago. Adalant swallowed and closed her eyes to pray to her sister, asking for forgiveness for her foolish friend. She opened them to a large tree root.

“Okay.” She said quietly, straddling the large tree root to slip onto the other side, rolling her eyes as Azben made a show of flipping into the air and landed into a crouch, back arching as she quickly straightened with the grace of a feline. Azben glanced her way and Adalant could feel the burn of her stare and faintly, Adalant could see Azben raise a brow.

“Not curious--”

“No, not really. You probably promised her a lap dance for later.”

There was a deep breath and Adalant closed her eyes once again as Azben gasped dramatically, an obvious tilt in her voice as she whined, as if she had been wronged.

“How dare you! As if I would stoop that low for- for a beast hunt! You should be ashamed of yourself!” Azben cried and pouted, bottom lip rolling out cutely, all red and wet. Her eyelashes glittered with tears and the way her green eyes sparkled with light and her brows furrowed with gentle lines, Azben gave the image of a kicked puppy, sniffling quietly and blinking rapidly, as if willing the tears away.

Adalant snorted.

Azben crossed her arms tightly across her chest, huching her shoulders. She glared at her yet still completely looked kick. Honestly, Adalant’s chest swelled to offer her a pat on the shoulder and a few words but Adalant also knew it was a way for Azben to get to her, so Adalant could only rub faintly at her chest to dull the ache with a frown.

“You’re my dearest friend, sister!” She huffed, “Yet you accuse me of improper behaviour and breaking regulations!”

“Which you owned up to and even said you’d help me avoid punishment.” Adalant pointed out and maybe, she should have questioned the glint in Azben’s eyes that broke her ‘kicked puppy image’ but Adalant was too focused on balancing on the log across a ravine they had found after a few minutes of walking. She crossed without much thought, Azben’s whole licked-puppy image fading to her nonchalant look, walking across the log without a care, long and loose braid mused in the wind as a draft blew up. She visibly shivered and pressed her robes against her thighs, frowning.

“These things are so long yet I still feel a breeze, what the hell.” She grumbled, dissatisfied with her family’s winter clothing.

They continued on, walking through the underbrush and over roots, Azben animatedly chattering away, poking fun at Adalant and taking an interest in the small fungi and large blooms of winter plants, blue and white petals, purple mushrooms and black vein like roots that wiggled at their boots as they passed. It was as the sun rose to the middle of the cloudy sky that Azben finally hushed, quieting to a seriousness that befitted the beast up ahead, target of their illegal beast hunt.

It was also then that Adalant started to smell the heavy musk of sweat and freshly turned soil, sniffing experimentally at the air for a real scent. Her nose wrinkled as iron flooded her nostrils, salt and green odor with the stale scent of disturbed still water. She felt the air next to her shift, Azben’s nail skittering down her sleeve and making a circle at her elbow. Straight ahead? She glanced back and nodded, pulling her bat from her shoulder and readying herself. She slowed her steps and made her stride longer, shifting forward and squinting ahead. Azben shifted through large leaves, her frame disappearing from sight, her tail a slithering snake as it trailed along.

Adalant waded through thick undergrowth and vines, swinging under a wide and heavy vine that hung low but too high for her to easily cross over. Adalant listened and found the forest devoid of sound, an immediate sign to a disturbance but faintly, she could hear a few birds tweeting away.

The blood from before was way heavy in the air as it clung to her body, probably masking her scent and even Azben’s strange brand of ‘smelling me is like smelling a very fragrant flower in a summer heat’ scent. Maybe it was a deer of sorts? A large animal from the irony yet musky warmed fur smell of a long haired creature.

Sunlight shone heavy upon the clearing she peeked into, blinking blindingly at the sudden touch of brightness. The clearing was small but stretching, medium rocks set into arches that towered over her, and strange statues of sorts, grey and black in colour. White flowers grew, pretty and dainty. Yet, her eyes only fell onto the massive beast sitting, its back to her.

She dared to not breath the curses that waterfalled into her throat, her breath caught at the sheer height of the King. Muscles was the first thing to come to mind, then berry red because its back was probably a brick wall with iron plating, bulging and bright red with white stretch marks. Its arms were thick, a white tail languidly flicking in the grass, white and grey fur a mane with black streaks. Knees poked out from its flanks, knee caps with a crusted look to them. Her eyes widened in bewilderment when hands with talons for fingers threw a bone back, Adalant’s mind now registering the tinged red skull that seemingly looked up at her from her feet. She swallowed her gasp and ducked quickly, feeling the bone sail way past her head, her hair picked up in the wake of the force of its power.

Its hand was wide, large, easily able to crush her head within its palm alone, talons looking like jagged rocks, black with a violet light from the sun above. Its muscles flexed and she was amazed at the sheer fear that gripped her heart tight, lungs painfully cut off from the air she desperately needed. Adalant didn't dare to straighten herself, listening to the King grunt and the cracking of bones as they splintered and the slurping sound that made her stomach flip.

Azben wanted to fight this thing. The thing that could easily crush their skulls, dismember them and eat them. Her heart already sung with fear from its back alone. Imagining its face wasn't the brightest of ideas and she swallowed painfully through the tightness of her throat. Yet, she found herself easing forward. Remembering all the strategies her and Azben had planned for beast’s of this magnitude. Her bat was held tight in her right hand, chest taut as she approached.

She was hiding behind one of the many rock arches when Azben finally appeared again.

And appear she did. Quite literally.

She appeared above the beast, arms crossed and her own talons prepared for an attack, a faint glow of green around them. She was silent as she fell, the sun blinding. Adalant watched the beast look, because he wasn't stupid, quite the intelligent beast, his hand blocking the sun but she was still a dark shadow to him, light flowing past her form and Adalant’s feared dulled to a shallow burn in her stomach.

The thrill of the fight came forward as Azben came down, talons raking through its mane and tearing through its shoulder and half its face, its roar of pain deafening as her body leapt forward into the beginning fray, her bat pulled back and cutting through the air.

She could only grin maniacally as Azben’s snarl of pleasure fitted between them, dark and sadistic in their first attack.

________________________________________________________________

The sun was falling when Marcie bounded out from the tree tops, her growl of anger overshadowing their laughter and they both squaked in indignation, crying out as their arms were twisted behind them and Azben whined as electricity crackled to life in her ankles.

“Adalant Kuygetsa of Loystin and Azben Katrina of the North, you will be sentenced to three months of copying the family rules and attending the stables! Azben, you broke house arre…”

Adalant glared once more at Azben, her cheeky grin too big for a fool in trouble.

Under her sister’s list of broken regulations, Adalant hissed her accusation, “You said you’d help me avoid punishment! I trusted you,” She whispered and could only falter in her anger and betrayal when the dragon woman winked and purred,

“A horrible idea darling, really.”

And how Adalant screamed when she was refused the right to bloody her friends beautiful face.

[theashemarie]

Demo Brew Ch. 3 | Pearlina

☆ Reblogs appreciated! ☆

↪Chapter 1: [The Bet]

↪Chapter 2: [The Squid Sisters]

Read one chapter ahead on AO3!

Chapter 3: The Song

By all rights, things should be different after this revelation, but nothing changes. Callie and Marie are still just Callie and Marie after all, though they do sing more when the shop is empty. Three seems to relax a little too, as if she was holding all the tension of the secret in her body, and Pearl easily feeds off the energy. She feels like she’s coming back into herself, back into the Pearl that’s all confidence and swagger. The past six months have been a little rough, all things considered. Adjusting to the job (the job she didn’t need but kept coming back to), adjusting to Callie and Marie, adjusting to Three, adjusting to Marina...

And, now she’s trying to decide if punk music really is her thing after all.

It’s been a creeping thought, ever since she saw Callie, Marie, and Three’s reaction to her scar. But, she doesn’t want to just drop her band, but they’re also not the most cohesive unit anyway. It’s almost a self-fulfilling prophecy in a way—the punk group that’s dysfunctional and awful to each other. Their lead guitarist is known for showing up late and drunk, and while Pearl isn’t exactly the most reliable person in the world, she likes to think that she’s dedicated to the cause. She doesn’t want to be arrested one day because her bandmates are caught drunk and belligerent after a gig either, but that’s a whole other issue.

But, most of all, she wonders what it would be like, to start a group with Marina. Their voices would probably go well together, and they’re just different enough that their stage presence would be interesting and fun. She wants to change her image anyway. She’s getting a little sick of wearing black all the time.

“I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out,” Three says when she spies Pearl staring pensively at her notebook. She’s doodled a few hearts beside the scribbled song lyrics from yesterday. She quickly draws a few skulls beside the hearts, just for balance.

“What? Callie and Marie? I totally knew,” she lies.

“Yeah, and I can fly.” Three grabs a scone out of the pastry display and nibbles on it. “You grew up rich, right?”

It’s so out of nowhere that Pearl has to look up from her doodles. “Yeah? Why?”

Three shrugs. “Just curious why you’re here is all.”

“Callie didn’t tell you about the bet?”

Three shakes her head and takes a large bite of the scone. “Callie’s big on privacy. She says that ‘everyone deserves their secrets!’” The last of that is said in a peppy imitation of Callie’s upbeat voice, and Pearl can’t help but chuckle. “I was just wondering, since it seemed like your whole punk thing was taking off too. You’re not like me. Stuck here until the next big thing.”

It's so painfully true, and Three says it so easily. Three isn’t like Pearl—she has to scrape to make it to her next paycheck without going hungry. Most of the time, that involves eating all she can of the leftover pastries or sandwiches at the end of the day, and sometimes Pearl thinks she sees Callie or Marie give her money. Pearl has considered offering her some cash, but she doesn’t want to offend her. If there’s one thing she understands, its pride, and people always have a lot of it when it comes to money.

Pearl sighs and leans back. She’s not wearing her usual black today—decided to go with an oversized sweater, a pop of pink that goes well with her dark jeans—and she thinks that that’s what’s got her in this weird mood. She doesn’t really want to be the punchy punk princess anymore.

“I don’t know about that,” Pearl says. “I love music but I’m not sure if that’s the scene for me.”

“Oh yeah?” Three leans against the back counter, between the espresso machine and the blender. “You gonna sell out? Go mainstream?”

Pearl bristles a little. “Maybe I am! The mainstream could use a little something like me! I’d refresh the hell out of it! The Squid Sisters are the biggest thing right now, but behind those masks they’re still just another poppy idol group.”

Three smiles and crosses her arms. “Don’t let Callie and Marie hear you say that. They think they’re changing the world. Their music saves people.” She shakes her head and laughs, as if she just told some kind of joke. “I think that’d be fresh as hell. You trying to shake things up, I mean. You’ve got the voice. I say go for it.”

Pearl glances back at her notebook, at its scribbled lyrics to a song that’s already written. “It’d be pretty bad if I ditched my band. They’d hate me.”

Three shrugs. “So? You know they’re definitely using you for your money, right? You’re the lead but you also have all the cash. They wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

She’s right and Pearl knows it. Her whole life, people have pushed their way closer to her in order to get closer to her money. It’s a fact of life—people will kiss up to you if they think it’ll get them somewhere. That’s probably one reason why she likes it here so much with Callie, Marie, and Three. They don’t want her money. They want her.

And Marina. Marina doesn’t know either, and she actually trusted Pearl with her demo. Ebb & Flow sounds like it had been recorded on a tape recorder—an act so intimate and personal that every time Pearl listens to it she can almost imagine Marina holding the microphone in her hand as she pressed the record button. Marina trusted her with that—

“You’re right,” Pearl mutters, feeling a lot like the floor has just been ripped out from under her. Suddenly, everything with Marina crystalizes.

Because Pearl likes Marina, and she’s pretty sure that Marina likes her.

+++

At least, Pearl thinks she does.

It’s Saturday when Marina comes back in, and Pearl is jittery. So, so jittery, but she’s playing it off. She’s got her swagger back, finally, and she’s determined to use it.

“Hey Rena, what can I get you?” She leans deep into the counter, chin on her fist, and she smirks her best smirk.

“Hm, I think I’ve finally tried everything...” Marina mutters, staying at a respectable distance from the counter. She’s so cute that Pearl almost turns into a squid right there, like she used to back when she was fifteen and overwhelmed. Nothing made the world slow down like turning back into your childhood form.

 “You’ve tried everything twice. I think you’re just looking for an excuse to keep coming back to see me.” Pearl’s smirk changes into a small, sly grin, and she sees Marina blush, just there on her cheeks. She swallows hard to keep herself from smiling even bigger.

“Maybe I just really like coffee,” Marina shoots back. Then, when Three pushes through the door with a tray of small sandwiches, she adds, “Or maybe I just really like to see Three!”

Three puts the tray down with a great clatter and makes a show of looking flattered. “Oh you tease.” She waves her hand in Marina’s direction. “I’m afraid that I’m taken though. I’m married to the job.”

Marina laughs, a small thing that’s barely audible, and Pearl’s knees turn to jelly. “I took too long!” Marina laments. “I guess I’ll have to settle for watching you from afar.”

“You need to move on!” Three cries. She pulls the back of the pastry case open and starts arranging the sandwiches on their small plates, like ducks in a row.

“I’m right here,” Pearl butts in, stomping her foot for emphasis.

“Sorry Pearl.” Marina giggles again.

“Yeah, Pearl. Sorry you had to witness the sauciest love story of our generation,” Three adds.

“I was trying to be smooth,” Pearl whines under her breath in Three’s direction. Then when she realizes what she just said, she turns to Marina with large eyes.

If Marina heard, she makes no indication. Instead, she steps closer to the counter and pokes at the small menu that they have posted there. “I’ll take a black tea. No sweetener, please.”

Pearl recovers quickly. “What, you can get addicted to caffeine but not sugar?”

Marina shrugs. “I get my sugar elsewhere.”

Pearl swears that she sees her wink. The world goes super quiet for a moment, and suddenly all she can see is the floor, and the ceiling, and since when did everything get so big?

“Pearl?” And there’s Marina, leaning over the counter to look at her. And Three is there, like a tower.

“Oh, you little squid,” Three says, exasperated.

Pearl picks herself up quickly. Forms her limbs back into place and grows a neck and stomach. Accidental squid form at twenty because a cute girl flirted back at her. She really is a gay disaster.

She has to rescue herself, and fast, before Marina writes her off as an out of control, lovestruck fool. She dusts her clothes off, picks a piece of white fuzz off of her t-shirt, and points a strong finger at Marina. “I have something for you.”

“Oh...?” Marina is pinned in place by Pearl’s point so she can only stand there while Pearl marches toward the back, where her bag and notebook are waiting. She cleanly rips the page with the edited song out and walks back, stiff-kneed.

“Here. Don’t read it now. I’ll get your tea.”

Marina takes it and follows her instructions. The slip of paper disappears into the bag, and Pearl quickly stirs together Marina’s drink. Three stands there, like a mother, like a principal, like Pearl is liable to make an even bigger fool of herself, and Pearl can’t blame her.

As she hands Marina her drink, Marina accepts it quickly, too quickly. Pearl can’t put it down on the counter and slide it to her like she usually does. Marina intercepts her, wraps both her hands around Pearl’s. “Thank you,” she says as they hold eye contact.

It’s the hottest thing Pearl’s ever experienced, and it’s just their hands wrapped around a to-go cup.

+++

Marina comes back an hour later. Pearl isn’t in the front because it’s her turn to bake (burn) the pastries. Everything’s homemade and they need more bread, so at least she can enjoy herself with the kneading, the punching, the forming of the dough, and she does, but she also can’t help but feel like there’s a creeping panic coming on. She just handed that shit to Marina like it was no big deal! She was so cool about it! She just handed it to her!

Like, ‘hey Marina, I loved your song! Do you take constructive criticism?’ What is wrong with her? She didn’t even warn Marina! Just handed her a note like it was some ‘will you date me? check yes or no’ situation. Oh, she’s so fucked. She’s fucked sideways. She’s fucked into next week. She’s fucked. She’s fucked, she’s fucked, she’s fucked, she’s fucked—

“Hey Marina!” Three yells, loudly, from the front, at a much higher volume than she usually does. She’s basically hollering. “You’re back!”

Pearl is up to her elbows in dough, so she can’t exactly go out there. But Three is screaming. But also Pearl can’t go out there. But also she can’t not go out there. She stands there, panicked, stricken, trying to melt into the floor. Her knees almost give out and she’s about two degrees away from squid form again when Three yells again.

“Yeah! Pearl’s here! Do you want me to get her?!” Three’s voice is louder, and Pearl can imagine it—Marina, with her arms crossed, angry at Pearl, while Three, who knows exactly what Pearl handed Marina earlier, tries to hold everything together. Oh, this is bad.

“Okay, I’ll get her!” Three darts through the door and sees Pearl, hands and counter dusted with flour “What are you doing! Marina’s here! Get out there!”

“I can’t!” Pearl searches for an excuse. She waves her hands at the football of dough on the counter. “The gluten is gonna set!”

“I’ll do it!” Three reaches into the flour canister and claps her hands together, sending up a puff of white. “Go out there! She wants to talk to you!”

Pearl begrudgingly shakes as much dough off of her hands as she can before running them under the sink. “Did she look upset?”

Three grins at her. “She looked excited. Now go!”

Pearl death marches through the door and hopes that her face doesn’t look as grim as she feels. Marina is there, looking disheveled. Her headphones are gone, replaced with another hat, which she keeps tugging down.

“There you are! Come with me.” Marina turns to leave, just like that, as if Pearl can just ditch her job at a moment’s notice just for her.

Well, she can, but the point is that Marina shouldn’t be assuming things. Even if she is right.

“I’m going on break!” Pearl cries as she rips her apron off. Three sticks her head out of the back and grins at her.

Pearl follows Marina out onto the street. It’s cold and she considers running back in for her jacket, but Marina looks spooked. Pearl doesn’t want to give her a chance to get away, so she just crosses her arms and ducks her head against the stinging wind.

“This way,” Marina leads her away from the main thoroughfare, where all the foot traffic is—Inkopolis Plaza is the busiest area of the city, where tourists rub arms with professional turf war kids, where fashion models and music groups come on their time off, and Marina stands apart, even in her shapeless sweater dress and tights. Her hair is longer than it was when Pearl first met her, and she seems to have finally found her footing. Pearl’s mountain girl finally at home in the city.

She’s mooning again, like she’s fifteen years old and getting ready for a first date, but she can’t help it. Now that she’s out here, in the cold, in the real world, she sees just how beautiful Marina is, just how different her mannerisms and presence are. She wants nothing more than to sit in this moment and let it percolate. She wants to stand as close as she can to Marina and let their hands brush, wants their fingers to lace, wants to pull Marina along behind her and explore the city.

She wants to be with Marina. That’s it. She just wants to spend time with her. That’s... That’s a new type of desperate want that she’s never ever experienced.

And it’s... It’s really nice.

“C’mon Pearl!” Marina is waiting for her next to a nondescript door, about two blocks from Fresh Start. She easily unlocks the door with quick fingers, keying in the code to the lock with practiced ease. Pearl jogs to catch up, and Marina pulls her inside by the end of her sleeve. Their fingers brush and Pearl can feel her face heat up.

The room is dark, and Marina easily flips a switch. It’s a landing, with a long hallway in front of them and stairs to the right. Marina quickly takes the steps, jumping up two at a time with her long legs. Pearl follows suit, trying to seem cool, using all of her energy and her strong knees to leap up after her. They stop in front of another door with another lock, this time with an actual key, which Marina quickly slots into place. Her keyring jangles with all kinds of bits and bobs, and Pearl just catches glimpse of a Squid Sisters keychain.

This door leads into a small apartment, about half the size of Pearl’s bedroom at home. There’s a tiny kitchenette to the right, a door to a wet bathroom on the left, and ahead of her the bedroom and living area are all one room. The bed is made, and the comforter is a bright green; the walls are covered with music posters, some recent, some old, some antique, some human—

Pearl barely has a chance to take more than that in, because Marina tows her into a tiny, itty bitty closet just to the left of the main door. It’s so small that Pearl feels huge. She’s immediately accosted by coats and jackets, all of which smell just like Marina, and she has to struggle to find a spot where she can breathe without getting fabric in her mouth. And then Marina piles in right after her, carrying something dark and bulky in her hands.

It is at this precise moment that Pearl realizes that she just followed this girl, who she barely knows outside of their small interactions at Pearl’s place of employment, down an alley, into a sparsely populated area of the city, through a locked door, up some stairs, through another locked door, and then let her drag her into a closet. She’s heard that people who think they’re in love do stupid shit, but this is next level.

Silently, she hopes that if Marina kills her, that her father never ever finds out. He’d spend millions of dollars to bring her back only to kill her again.

Marina reaches up and pulls the cord for the light. A bare bulb illuminates and Pearl realizes that the coats and jackets are all old, patchy, and a couple seasons out of style. Marina beams at her and hands Pearl a microphone. The bulky thing is an old-fashioned tape recorder, with a cassette in it and everything.

“This is the only place I can record,” Marina explains. There’s a long cord between the mic in Pearl’s hand and the recorder, and Marina presses a button to rewind the tape.

“I see.” Pearl swallows thickly and thinks back to her recording studio at home, with its large soundproof sound booth and sound boards, professional microphones and digital storage. This closet with all of its fabric is close to soundproof, but Pearl imagines that it can’t be great, acoustically. “It’s nice,” she croaks. Her throat is very dry.

“Thanks!” Marina beams. “I bought all the coats to help dampen as much of the sound as I could.” She looks down as the recorder makes a click. “Okay, so the tape is in the right place. Just sing your part and hopefully I can mix them together without too much trouble.”

“Wait, wait.” Pearl waves her hands and smacks into a large leather jacket that has to be two sizes too big for Marina. “What are we doing?”

“This.” Marina reaches into the pocket of her dress and shoves a sheet of paper into Pearl’s confused hands. “You wrote that right? I want you to record what you wrote.”

Pearl unfolds it and yep, that’s the sheet she ripped out of her notebook, with the lyrics that she wrote on a whim, and her scribbled music staffs. Oh jeeze, what has she gotten herself into?

She’s flattered, and panicked, and excited—because clearly Marina loved what she wrote. She loved it so much that she had to hear it for herself. But suddenly Pearl can’t feel her own voice. Her throat is dry, and she’s hasn’t actually sung in months because what she does with her band is scream. Melodic screaming, skilled screaming, but screaming all the same. She reaches up and touches her throat, as if that’ll make a difference, and tries to swallow again.

“I can’t...” she says, feeling like a cad, like a fraud. Marina makes a soft, confused sound and Pearl feels like she owes her an excuse. “I’m not warmed up...” She doesn’t want to tell Marina that she hasn’t sung for real in so long that her range has shifted, has shortened, that even the rhythmic chanting that she wrote might be too much, especially here with Marina so close, making Pearl’s hearts beat out of sync, creating a drum solo out of her chest.

She can’t imagine trying to harmonize with Marina’s strong, melodic voice. She can’t imagine letting Marina hear her sing, especially here in this closet.

“That’s okay!” Marina says. She’s still fiddling with the tape recorder and hasn’t looked up to see Pearl’s pale, pale face. “This is just a demo. It doesn’t have to sound perfect.”

“Reena...” Pearl sighs and that gets Marina to look up. Pearl is holding the microphone so tight in her fist and her fingers are bleached of all color. “I can’t.”

Marina stares at her for a long time, her eyes swimming with some unsayable emotion. Pearl can’t tell if she’s disappointed, angry, sad, or a combination of all three. She wants to squirm under the attention, under her own shame, and she reaches for the door, just so she can escape back into the air and the light and get away from this terrible, frustrating moment.

“No.” Marina grabs Pearl’s hand, the one still wrapped around the microphone, and her palm is cool. It jolts something inside Pearl, and she turns back. “No, Pearl. I know you can do this. I’ve heard your voice.”

“What? No you haven’t.” Pearl’s in disbelief, but she can’t pull away, not with Marina’s hand wrapped around hers. Her hand is decently bigger than Pearl’s, and it’s so nice. “That demo I gave you doesn’t count.”

“Not that.” Marina smiles then, and pulls Pearl back, away from the door. She pulls her into her chest, into a hug, and Pearl allows herself to be embraced even though she doesn’t know what she did to deserve it.

“I heard you singing in the shop,” Marina continues. She rubs her hand on Pearl’s back. “You’re really good.”

“If you say so...” Pearl sighs, because she can’t really say no when she’s being hugged like this. “Why are you hugging me?”

Marina pulls back slightly so that Pearl can see her bright, cheery face. “You seemed like you needed it!”

Pearl smiles too, because she did need it. She needed it so badly. She hasn’t been hugged in so long.

And it is then that she realizes exactly who she’s hugging. Her face blooms red and she feels her hearts donkey kick, jumping into a high-speed race against the clock. She swears Marina must be able to feel it.

“Will you sing for me now? Please Pearlie?” Marina pouts out her lip, like she knows just which of Pearl’s buttons to push. Pearl feels like she’s going to pass out right there, just from that nickname alone, and then Marina goes and pouts—

She has no choice, really.

[calleo-bricriu]

I hate the word “mun” and will not use it to describe myself, but this is that ‘how the blog is run’ thing going around.

Speed:

I'm usually pretty fast; I tend to slow down if work is busy or if I'm not at home as mobile doesn't have xkit and it makes it harder to neatly trim replies.

Usually, if I don't reply within a few hours, it's within a day or two.

Rarely, I draft something then forget I drafted it, then realize it like 2 weeks later when the other person asks if I saw their reply.

Honestly, if I don’t reply to something for over a week and you see that I’m otherwise active, that’s probably what I did and you can absolutely feel free to poke me about it.

Replies:

They can be reblogs, conversation in comments, etc...doesn't bother me either way and I don't usually care about ask reblogs though if it starts to get long I'll usually split it off into its own new thread.

Not picky about length as long as you give me something my character can realistically respond to and that can range from a couple of lines to several paragraphs depending on what's going on.

I don't care if you use icons or text formatting, but I don't and the closest to formatting I get is bold, italic, heading, strikethrough, and sometimes colors. My eyesight is terrible, so weird curly fonts that are also small are almost impossible for me to read, even with my glasses on.

Waiting for replies is no big thing; with several people I write with regularly, it’s 2+ weeks between replies, sometimes longer.

Hell, once, @absintheabsence went on like an almost 3 year hiatus and we picked back up about where it had left off. So, yeah, unless you specifically tell me you want to drop a thread, I’ll wait until you either reply or deactivate and disappear.

If I have a bunch of them I’ll queue or schedule them but, otherwise, they get posted as I finish them.

Starters:

I think all of them I've written have been plotted or split off from asks.

Don't really do open starters because--I don't know, I just never do. I have some starter things tagged that other people can send if they want to.

I also don't mind if someone tags me in a starter they want to do with or without asking me about it first; if something is too off the wall I might ask them to change something but that's pretty much never happened.

Inbox:

Pretty much open for anyone, mutual or not, but it is an IC askbox unless I've specifically posted an OOC meme.

If not, anything sent in will typically be answered IC.

If you want to chat with me OOC about something, use the Tumblr IM thing or Discord.

I do not do M!A/Magic Anons.

Selectivity:

Eh. I'm not that picky, I'll generally give anyone a chance to see if our characters or writing styles click, that includes duplicates of characters.

Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't; either option is okay and I'm not going to be offended or upset if we don't end up clicking and a thread gets dropped or we do one thread then never speak again.

The only things I'm not super into are crossovers who don't have a specific Harry Potter verse that includes NOT carrying over large chunks of another fandom that don’t necessarily really fit into the HP universe into the character. It's just not a thing I'm personally into.

I also tend to be weirdly picky about OCs, at least for following them back.

That said, I'm not mutuals only and I usually only unfollow if we both never interact and I'm not super interested in just reading along.

I also tend to unfollow if you post a lot of untagged or uncut NSFW as I do often idly browse and do replies at work and if you don't tag, Tumblr's tag filter system doesn't, y'know, work.

Constant meme spam and begging for people to send stuff in is also kind of a turn off after awhile as it just comes off as kind of creepy and desperate and past experience OOC with people who do that has never been pleasant because they'd always end up leaping on me demanding to know why I 'never sent anything in' if I didn't send in something from literally every meme they reblogged but if I happened to point out they never sent anything to me and rarely answered any things they specifically asked me to send in, I'm being "aggressive".

So, yeah, constant meme spam + begging people for replies/asks/memes is probably going to make me quietly unfollow.

Still fine writing with you unless you’re also complaining that I don’t send you ‘enough’ memes or complain to me about how everyone ignores you while you’re--kind of ignoring me, but probably won't follow back because I don’t like my dash being choked up with rapid fire desperate meme reblogging.

Wishlist:

It's here.

But, if you'd rather not click:

Things I would absolutely love to do more of RP wise:

RP with more adult characters/adult versions of characters.

RP that doesn’t necessarily involve shipping or push toward shipping. I don’t mind shipping at all, but it’s not my main focus.

RP that involves philosophical or theoretical magical discussion/experimentation.

Slice of life type RP.

Marauders Era/First War RP; I do actually like playing the younger version of this character, though I prefer playing from 5th year on.

Casual, back and forth conversation type RP either as short reblogs or in the comments on a single post. It’s relaxing and often branches into the larger threads or plots as it’s a good way to get some easy rapport going.