#it’s just annoying!! like i’ll be fine but i’m just not mentally prepared for unexpectedly having to work lol

[fingertipsmp3]

I love waking up to a text from the assistant manager telling me someone I worked with yesterday is poorly (with what girl??? Is he contagious?????) and asking if I can pick up a shift today or tomorrow

[ninapi]

Glitched

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Premise: Rintarou unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams through an online game and he does his best to find this mysterious girl in the real world and keep her for good.

Word Count: 3289

Note: Hello, my beautiful dumplings. Welcome to my Suna miniseries, huhuhu. This will be a short story (4 chapters lol sorry, that’s my definition of short 🙃 sometimes I wonder how people write complete stories under 800 words, I just cant-), while I prepare for my new big series. Some high school drama, no multiple endings or routes just one~ Smooches for all of you.

Warning: Mild spoilers, if you’re up to date with the anime you’ll be just fine.

Chapter 1: Not so bad.

Suna Rintarou was by no means enjoying his second year of high school. Summer weather was definitely not his favorite, always tough on him, but the agony was even worse this year. He was tired, not just physically but mentally, the toll of dealing not only with his own sense of failure but also his teammates who were gravely disappointed of not being able to give their captain the satisfaction of going to the finals and bring victory to their school in his last year on the team.

It hasn’t been long since Inarizaki lost to Karasuno, which meant the practice schedule has increased not only in frequency but also in intensity. Days were very long and every single muscle in Suna’s body hurt. He was really looking forward to the holiday weekend, meaning he would have an extra day to rest.

His classmates were raving about this new online game that had recently come out and was very popular. They had plans to play together during the weekend and advance into one of the heaviest of dungeons before classes resumed, but their plan came to a sudden stop, the twins were being dragged by their mother into a family wedding across the country and they wouldn’t be able to join the team.

The boys were devastated, whining men heard all over the class. They were really counting on the Miya power to beat the hell out of the dungeon boss, help was needed desperately.

¨Hey Suna, I know you said you didn’t like the gameplay you watched the other day but can you please join our team? Without Osamu in our side we are doomed.¨ Suna heaved a deep sigh, collapsing on top of his desk. ¨Am I your last option? Can’t you find someone who really wants to play this? I’m so tired, I was planning on staying in bed all weekend.¨ Osamu pulled him back up, giving him a stern look, ¨Come on, help your mates. I wish I could stay and beat them up but there’s nothing we can do about it, it’s just for this weekend, we’ll be back for the next and continue where you left off.¨ he really didn’t want to do this, but if he didn’t agree to it they wouldn’t shut up until he did, ¨Fine, text me the link. I’ll be there after dinner.¨ the boys were smothering him with hugs and trying to kiss off his face in joy, making him grimace as he shook them all off and went back to sleep on his very comfy desk. The thought of finally resting this weekend turning into nothing but a sad memory.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☾ . :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.･

The guys added him to a group chat and everything was ready for the first quest. 

His sister tied his hair up at the front in a tiny ponytail so he would look like some of those cute game-streamers she watches, not caring if her brother needed it or not with his hairstyle. He was beyond annoyed with life in general, why do people not leave him alone, even his sister was now conspiring to destroy his peaceful long holiday weekend, ¨Curse those damn twins. It’s all their fault.¨ he was grumbling under his breath while putting his headset on and going in the game to create his character.

¨Alright guys, let’s go level up first, stay in this area and let’s meet up at the bottom of the hill when you reach level 20, then we’ll move in to the forest.¨ they all hummed in acknowledgement, breaking the group. Suna went off to chase some slimes and smaller monsters, hating his life every second of it, the game had a very cute looking art style and it was just not his jam at all. He found it hilarious though that the toughest guys in his class were all hunting cute rabbits and crying over it out loud and in their shared group chat space, so he made sure to screenshot some of those moments, posting them in his account and tagging all his playmates. He had to get something out of this torture, at least he could make fun of them for a while.

His character stopped moving and it turned into a pixel block, ¨Guys, is the game acting up or is it just mine?¨ he could only hear static coming through his headset and some of the guys were posting on the chat that the game kicked them out and they were rebooting their pc, so he just stayed there waiting for the rest to go back in. His character was still a bit glitchy but it was moving now. Then all of the sudden he heard a very loud screech pressed to his left ear, and he was positive that it was not human. ¨Oh my god, sausage! What are you doing to my poor headset? Leave it alone!!¨ saying he was confused was an understatement, all the players in his team were dudes, ¨Ehm, hi?¨ the line went quiet but he wasn’t hearing any more static, just some shuffling on the other side, ¨Who’s this?¨ you were sitting on your chair now, the fluff ball being kicked out of your room for good. ¨Uhm, Rintarou? How about you? Did the guys call you over? I didn’t hear anything about any girl joining our party.¨ Rintarou? What- you were just chatting with your girlfriends when your cat jumped on you and stole your headset, there was no Rintarou in that group, ¨I'm (Y/N). Are you Miyuki’s boyfriend?¨ Miyuki? Was there a Miyuki in his class? It was possible, not like he knows everybody but this was all so confusing, ¨Nope, definitely not that Rintarou. So you are not with the guys either? How did you get into the group? The game didn’t say someone new joined the party.¨ 

You were so confused, you could see your actual party on the screen and on the side chat but you couldn’t hear them talk, just this random guy, ¨Did your game get glitchy too? Maybe that’s how you ended up in my party.¨ he moved his character around, looking for you, but he was completely alone in the area, some of the guys still complaining about the game not letting them in through his phone. ¨Well, I mean yes. It did get glitchy but I can still see my girls playing on my screen, could it be just the audio that got crossed over somehow?¨ it was so weird, none of the girls even noticed your absence, you said you were having some troubles with your headset and so they just continued killing monsters, ¨Yeah, I don’t see you around me either, so I guess it’s just the audio getting messy. Hold on, Imma log out and see if that resets us back to normal.¨ you nodded even if he couldn’t see you. ¨Ugh, what the hell. The logout button is gone. How about you, do you see it?¨ you were checking everywhere in your screen, it was definitely not where it usually is, ¨It’s gone for me too. I bet it’s just still glitchy and will go back to normal in a bit, if it’s fine with you, we could just keep playing like this until the game fixes itself?¨ he was already back to killing slimes, way over level 20 by now and his classmates were still gone, ¨Yeah, fine with me.¨ 

Both of you continued doing your thing in complete silence, so much so that Suna forgot you were still there and started mumbling curses quietly, he was being targeted by larger monsters now and was still on his own, he didn’t know much about this game and he was loosing HP fast, ¨What’s wrong?¨ your soft voice startled him, his ears flushing bright red in embarrassment, ¨Sorry, I forgot you were still there. Just being attacked by inferno wolves, don’t know how to kill them, today is my first day playing this.¨ you chuckled quietly, he was kindda cute, those were very easy to kill lesser monsters, ¨Just jump on them and stomp hard.¨ he did as instructed, killing one instantly, ¨Oh wow that was easy, thanks. Are you like a guild master or something?¨ that made you smile, you were right, he was cute. ¨Nothing of the sort, just been playing this for longer. Let me know if you need more help, I know my fair share of tricks.¨ 

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☾ . :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.･

He was about to just ‘x’ out the game since the logout button was still gone, it was 9:30 and none of the guys were able to log back in, the game refusing to accept them, it was a waste of time, he didn’t even want to play this ridiculous game, the happy tune coming out of it was driving him insane at this point, that was until he heard your quiet giggles, it made him curious. They started soft, he almost thought he’d imagined it, but they grew louder each second and without realizing it, he was smiling, ¨What is it?¨ he wasn’t going to say anything but he just needed to know what was causing the cute fit of giggles on the other side, or he wasn’t going to be able to sleep in peace. ¨You heard that? Oh no, so embarrassing. Sorry, my cat, he is crazy you see. Earlier he was chewing on my headset so I kicked him out, but he got out of the house and got back into my room climbing all the way to the window, he’s like a ninja! And was nuzzling my tummy just now, I’m very ticklish.¨ was it normal for such a story to be this cute? Since when does he find cat ninjas cute? Why does he feel the need to tickle an unknown woman-

¨Was that sausage?¨ he chuckled evilly, wanting to continue the conversation, ¨Oh GOD, you heard that too? This game is like boycotting my life, I’m telling you. But yes, that’s sausage. He’s very heavy and of a brownish tone so he kindda looks like one, that’s why we named him that.¨ it’s not like he was interested in cats, but this was way better than killing blue pixel blobs, ¨It’s kay, I find names like that fun, I really don’t like when people name their pets, I don’t know Steve or something,¨ that caused you to laugh loud and clear, getting stabbed by a monster in the process, which made you just laugh even more, ¨Steve? What? Who would name their cat Steve?¨ you let your character bleed to death and were now hugging one of your pillows while sipping on some juice you had left, getting comfy on your chair. ¨Believe it or not, I’ve seen things, specially since I got in my current school volleyball team, there you see crazy, crazy stuff.¨ so he played volleyball…you’re nowhere near athletic but damn, he sounded like an interesting individual. The night was nothing like what you expected it to be, it was getting better every second.

Time surely flies when you’re actually having fun. He got some fruit jelly out and was chewing on it while speaking, needing some extra sugar to stay awake longer, ¨Are you eating fruit jelly?¨ he sits up right away, making sure his cam was actually off, ¨How do you know? Is this game livestreaming now or-?¨ you wished, ¨Hahaha no, it’s just that they make this sound, you know what I mean? Like when you suck the jelly out? I know I’m weird, I’m so sorry.¨ was he making sucking sounds just now? Why was he blushing? He didn’t know his favorite snack made suggestive sounds, well, that was embarrassing, he didn’t do that on purpose, ¨Ugh, well yeah you got me there, I’m eating fruit jelly. But I don’t think you’re that weird. Just a bit.¨ now you were the one blushing, it was fun talking to him, you've been talking about everything and nothing in particular at the same time for the last couple of hours and it was nearly midnight now. ¨Hey, is your game still glitchy? My chara is like dead now but still let’s me talk to you, I think there’s something really wrong with this game today.¨ his character was sitting down on a daisy field, enjoying his life as much as his owner, no monsters in sight, but the logout button was still not available, ¨Yeah, well I’m not dead, but things look the same, my mates were also complaining because the game kicked them out and didn’t let them back in.¨ he actually lied to his classmates and told them he was going to bed like twenty minutes ago but he just wasn’t capable of telling you how tired he actually was, ¨Hm, yeah I don’t think it’s going to let us sign out tonight, should we leave it open and just go to bed? It’s getting late and even if there’s no school tomorrow we should probably get going.¨ so you were in school too, your voice sounded right about his age but he didn’t know how to ask without sounding like a creepy old man, ¨Yeah I was thinking of going to bed too but sausage wouldn’t let us go.¨ us, huh? you smiled bashfully, playing with the headset cord, ¨Sausage is like that, I think he likes to hear your voice.¨ oh boy, was he smitten, he didn’t know much about you or what you looked like even but he wanted more of this, whatever that was, ¨Well then that means we gotta keep talking so he can hear it some more, maybe then he won’t eat your headset.¨ he could hear your giggles once more, they were creating a hole in his stomach, pretty sure it was eating itself out at your cuteness, he just wanted to continue hearing them, people never laughs at his comments, this was a first you actually thought he was funny, ¨We should. Do you think if we just don’t close the game it would stay like this? I mean like the audio and all…? Maybe we could talk some more tomorrow.¨ were you asking him on a date? That was a date, definitely. ¨Yeah I can do that, anything for sausage’s sake.¨ you were both grinning at the screen like idiots, not wanting to leave, ¨Then, since it’s the weekend how about we come back in the morning? Oh wait no, here in Miyagi the holidays are important, I gotta go to the shrine early, but how about after lunch?¨ he was so tired that even getting up by lunch time seemed like a task, but he would gladly lose sleep for this, ¨Yup, can do. See you tomorrow, sausage girl.¨ both of you left the pc on and went to bed, the smile on both of your faces causing your cheeks to hurt. 

He was cute, you’ve never had so much fun talking with a guy before, it all felt so natural like if you were talking with your best friend, like if you’ve known him since forever. You wondered if asking for his number would be too bold, he was funny and you just wanted to talk to him some more, maybe even meet him one day. Just thinking about it was making you feel giddy, your legs kicking on your bed as you squealed against your pillow, trying your best to quiet down your excitement and not wake your mother up.

Suna was on his bed thinking the very same thing, would it be weird to ask for your number? You were complete strangers, but that’s how people make friends, right? Not weird at all. He rarely had intentions of talking with any girl but talking to you tonight has been the highlight of his year and he wasn’t exaggerating. He didn’t even know he could laugh this much, Suna just couldn’t wait anymore, he was sure he wanted this to continue and with new resolution, he went to sleep, hoping noon would come fast, so he could ask for your number and maybe, hopefully, get to see you even if it was just through his phone, he just needed to put a face to this bubbly feeling inside his chest.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☾ . :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.･

When he woke up the following morning he noticed his pc was off, this causing him to go into panic mode, what happened? He made sure it would stay on all night-

¨MOOOOM, why is my pc off? Did you touch it?¨ he was pissed, anything but that, not the pc. ¨What? No I didn’t. I think we lost power for a bit earlier, your dad was trying to fix the oven and was messing with the power box.¨ that explains it but it wasn’t less aggravating, would he even be able to go in the game again or would he be kicked out like his mates.

He turned it back on as fast as he could, going in the game, but luck wasn’t on his side, two of his classmates were already in leveling up on his screen. He grabbed his headset and literally screamed on the mic, ¨(Y/N), please tell me you are there.¨ but he could hear very manly snorts on the other side, crushing his heart ¨Who’s (Y/N)? Your girlfriend, Suna?¨ he just couldn’t deal with them right now. He rebooted his pc in hopes of getting the line back up to yours, but when he did, he saw a notification pop up on his screen, ¨We apologize for all the troubles caused last night, as an apology, we’ve sent 100 diamonds and 2 HP refills into your inbox.¨ 

No, this couldn’t be happening. They fixed it overnight. He hadn’t ask you for your number yet, that’s what he was going to do as soon as he heard your beautiful voice.

You were fixing your make up, silly thing to do since he couldn’t even see you, but it was definitely a date. You got your headset on with a bright smile on your face as you saw your screen moving, the game still playing on the background, ¨Morning, Mr. Sausage. Got a nice sleep?¨ your friends were beyond shocked, ¨Mr.Sausage? (Y/N) are you talking to your cat again? I think you need to go out some more.¨ Miyuki? No, no, no, no, why??? Where was he? What happened? You didn’t turn the game off, he should still be there! ¨Yeah…did they fix the game? I can hear you guys just fine now.¨ you were seriously hoping he was just late and would jump in the conversation any second now, ¨Mhm, they gave us some dias, check your inbox. You can buy the sword you wanted with that!¨ Stupid sword, you didn’t want it anymore, not if that meant not being able to talk to him again. ¨Sorry guys, I…I’m login out for the day.¨ without another word you just closed your laptop and collapsed face first onto your bed, life sucked.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☾ . :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.･

Tuesday couldn’t come faster for Suna, he just ran over to the class next door almost clashing with the wall, ¨ATSUMU! I need your help.¨ the eldest twin glared at him with intensity, couldn’t he see what time was it? Why would someone ask for a favor so early in the morning ? He was barely awake after getting up at four to jog. ¨Tell me later, maybe during lunch break when I can actually listen to you.¨

He threw his bag on the floor and went over to the tired setter, shaking him lightly, ¨Please, only you can help me.¨ what could be this important? He looked over at the middle blocker giving him a dirty angry look, but he was sporting a not so fashionable pair of bags under his eyes, even his skin tone was a bit off, was he not supposed to rest for three days? This made him reconsider his actions, ¨What is it? Stop shaking me, dammit!¨ he sat down on the chair in front of his desk, serious mode on, ¨You have the phone number of the Karasuno setter right?¨ huh? this was definitely not worth the while, he went back to sleep on his desk, ¨Atsumu please! I need you to ask him something, please I’ll beg if you want me to.¨ he’s never seen him this desperate, ¨kay, I think I do, yeah he should be on the group chat. What do you need from him?¨ he was pulling out his phone, ready to rely the message and hopefully go back to sleep, ¨Can you ask him if he knows a girl named (Y/N)¨ a girl? This was unexpectedly interesting. ¨(Y/N) what? Is she from Karasuno?¨ he was punching the message out, waiting on the details, ¨Well I don’t know, all I know is her first name and that she lives in Miyagi, she goes to school there and is possibly around our age.¨ Atsumu couldn’t believe what he was hearing, talk about dumb teammates, ¨You do know Miyagi is a prefecture, right? Not a city. How many schools are there even in Miyagi? Why would Tobio-kun know her? You are being stupid, Suna.¨ he was deleting the message, shaking his head, ¨No, no, please just ask him. I know he probably won’t know her but is my only chance, please. I won’t bother you again if he says he doesn’t know…¨ the setter sighed, sending the ambiguous message out, this was really silly, but he could see how desperate his friend was, and he just wouldn’t let him sleep ever if he didn’t comply. 

To their surprise, Kageyama replied almost immediately, ¨I don’t, but I’ll ask around.¨ Atsumu showed him his screen and the small smile that painted his features left the setter breathless, so he can smile-

¨Thanks, please let me know if he says anything else.¨ he would find you, no matter what.

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Tagged babes: @dazaisfavgf

Masterlist Next Chapter

[mythicamagic]

"You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions."

Okay, curiosity got the better of me, and even though there are so many good prompts to choose, I settled with this one. There is no telling which way it will go, but it sounds amusing! Have fun! ^_^

Decided to do something different with this involving mind reading, hope you like.

----

Becoming privy to Sesshoumaru's thoughts happened about as unexpectedly as one would think. Having returned from the future after three years, Kagome had figured the amount of weirdness in her life would scale back a bit. The jewel was gone, and everyone was enjoying their 'happily ever afters' so surely she could finally gain some semblance of normalcy in the past, right?

'Irritating…'

Kagome shifted, sneaking a glance at the Daiyoukai as he sat at the base of a tree. His voice resounded inside her mind, seemingly without his knowledge or consent. He was eyeing something flitting about mid-air. A fly, she suspected.

Golden eyes shifted, slit pupils keen. A hand blurred, catching the thing between forefinger and thumb.

'Die.'

Green light shone out from between his fingers, successfully killing his 'prey.'

Kagome supposed it was somewhat comforting to know that his thoughts were about the same as whatever words he deigned to speak aloud. The psychic ability she'd gained only applied to Sesshoumaru, and had happened one random day when she'd been fighting a demon.

Between one moment and the next- a presence had warmed her side as he'd deflected an attack meant for her. This had resulted in sharp, static red youki swallowing their forms briefly- Sesshoumaru's energy rushing through her system. It had stolen Kagome's breath and sent her heart thundering.

A second later, she'd started hearing his thoughts. Most startling of all, they'd begun with something completely unexpected;

'I will keep you safe, foolish miko.'

Biting her lip, Kagome snuck another glance at him- only to find Sesshoumaru gazing back. Squeaking, she focused on her forgotten work, roughly weaving a basket with a little more force than necessary.

"Are you alright, Kagome?" Sango asked, sitting beside her on the grassy hill as they prepared a few herbs and useful things for Kaede.

"Fine! Totally f-"

'Her scent is erratic, yet the woman continues to sneak glances at me. How odd. Is she becoming interested in this one? It is long overdue.'

"What?" Kagome questioned out loud, feeling Sango’s perplexed stare. The heat of another pair of eyes warmed the nape of her neck.

'Hn, I have not sensed her pine for the Half Breed in many months after their breakup. It is possible she is looking for another male. The miko is not promiscuous enough to trifle with me. She requires...a lasting bond.'

Biting her lip, Kagome's eyes burned with want to look at him again.

'Could I keep a miko? She is not like others. They usually despise my kind- and I do not care for them. But this bratty, fiery woman has proven herself through her dealings with the Jewel and the Spider. Mn...the thought of having her should not stir my blood so,' he sighed in her mind. 'Perhaps once I accept my interest in her, the vivid fantasies will stop.'

What fantasies? she wondered.

Kagome really should not have asked, because somehow a lewd mental image of herself was projected from his head directly into her gawking brain.

Standing quickly, skirts swaying about her thighs- Kagome forced a smile. "I-I forgot to do something earlier! Sorry Sango, I'll finish up with you later."

Hurrying down the hill, she stiffened upon hearing a silky voice trail after her inside her mind.

'Why is she leaving? This is unacceptable. She takes her mouth-watering scent with her,' he seemed to pause contemplatively. 'Must your retreating form be so pleasing to the eye, Kagome?'

Kagome flushed red, feeling the urge to cover her ass while running from the unexpected thoughts. However, she kept her hands at her side- a weird thrill of excitement racing down her spine.

Like a radio broadcast sounding out from a speaker- the further she ran, the dimmer his velvety voice became.

---

Emerging from Kaede's hut a few days later, Kagome fussed with her new clothing. Miko robes felt somewhat uncomfortable, but Kaede had insisted she at least try getting used to wearing them for a few days.

She honestly couldn't imagine walking around in such garments as a permanent uniform. They reminded her too much of someone else.

'No.'

Kagome jerked, freezing in place and pretending to fiddle with her collar, trying to secretly glance around for the elusive Daiyouaki.

'...Those robes do not suit her. What's more- her light scent is muddied with unnecessary feelings. Those clothes make you self-conscious, do they not, miko? Take them off.'

Blinking, Kagome's heart warmed slightly inside her chest. He could read her so easily? He...cared about how she felt?

"And those pants cover her long legs. Disgusting. You are the one who forced me into appreciating a woman's thighs, miko. Bare them to me again.'

Hissing a short breath through her teeth, Kagome whipped her head to one side- spying Sesshoumaru lingering by a hut about 40 yards away. He stiffened, blatantly surprised she'd pinpointed his location so easily.

'Could she sense me?'

Blushing, Kagome cleared her throat and gave a slight wave, before disappearing back inside the hut. She wanted to test something, and the fluttering inside her lower stomach was getting too prominent to ignore.

---

Stepping out after a quick wardrobe change, Kagome pretended not to notice him again, fiddling with her cute modern outfit. She felt more at ease in her home wear, and the voice in her head seemed to agree.

'That is much better…' Sesshoumaru's tone slid into that of curiosity. 'You feel mischievous, miko? Now why is that? I sense your fluttering excitement.'

Raised her arms above her head nonchalantly, Kagome arched her back as she stretched.

'What…?' the thinness of his tone almost made her grin ferally. 'What...are those?'

Kagome had never intended to wear them. In fact, she'd stuffed them deep inside the depths of her backpack because Yuka, Eri and Ayumi had taken it upon themselves to buy her something 'sexy' for her bad boyfriend and Souta had innocently walked into her room one day while she was packing. She hadn't had the heart to tell her friends she'd broken up with Inuyasha a long while ago.

She had no need for black lacy thigh highs, complete with suspender garter belts resting enticingly on her thighs. Or at least, she hadn't until today. Kagome stretched with a little more exaggeration, letting out a breathy sigh as her pleated skirt hitched up, exposing more of her toned legs to his gaze.

A terribly loud noise deafened her hearing like a clap of rumbling thunder, heralding a storm. Kagome realised a little belatedly that it hadn't been contained to the privacy of Sesshoumaru's mind- the growl rippling through the space between them.

He stood much closer than expected, golden eyes pinning her in place.

"Oh- hi there, Sesshoumaru," Kagome hid her surprise behind a smile. "Something wrong?"

The Daiyoukai's burning, orange eyes searched her face. Slowly, they dimmed back into gold, as he realised there was nothing appropriate he could say.

'Do you know what you are doing, little minx? Or are you completely unaware of how badly I desire those thighs wrapped around my waist?'

"Nothing," he said out loud, face completely devoid of expression.

Kagome arched a brow. He had a damn good poker face.

"Well...okay," she lifted a shoulder, taking a few steps away. "But you know, if something was bothering you, it would be better all round to just tell me. I'm not a mind reader."

Mild intrigue flickered. "I do not think you would appreciate knowing my innermost thoughts."

"Try me."

Sesshoumaru's lips curved, his blank expression cracking into something more honest and imperfect. Human, almost, in its raw appetite- the demon circling around her slowly like a predator. "The dark hungering of an inuyoukai is not something that pure and pretty miko's could stomach," he uttered.

Kagome took a breath, keeping to her bravado. Because if she didn't keep her courage, the thoughts she'd heard so clearly inside her mind would remain exactly that- formless. Never touching reality.

And that felt like a shame.

"Maybe not all of them could, but I've journeyed across Japan with a perverted con-artist and been kidnapped by dark and terrible demons much bigger than you," she hummed, keeping eye contact. "And I'm not promiscuous or anything, but I'm not a prude either. Given the right person, even I can get a little...hungry."

She heard a sharp in-take of breath. Sesshoumaru stopped, lingering in close proximity as his voice dropped into something downright sinful. "How surprising."

Kagome lifted a shoulder. "Not really, but judging by your hesitancy to share anything on your mind- maybe my 'dark hungering' would be too much for you."

Golden eyes flashed. "Preposterous."

"No, no- I think it's true," she gave an impish smile. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions."

This seemed to snap his carefully constructed facade of control. Sesshoumaru's claws snapped out, fingers trembling as they gripped her hair. A fierce breeze lashed around them as Kagome realised he'd collected white energy around their forms- speeding them out of sight into the lush forest. Away from the safety of witnesses. None could save her now.

Sesshoumaru bore down over her, neck craned, mouth hovering close. It was sharp teeth that brushed her parted lips first.

'I will have you- strange, enticing, annoying woman.'

Kagome shuddered, blue eyes darkened as her thighs rubbed together. Her hands met silken robes, gliding up into silky hair as his arm swooped down, hooking beneath her knees.

While their lips crashed together and Sesshoumaru held her aloft- Kagome smiled and wordlessly obliged by wrapping her thighs around his lean waist, giggling as the taciturn demon inwardly purred.

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (6)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst + maybe jealous!kook 👀

words: 3.2k

     chapter six

You stayed in the whole day on Sunday – which was nothing new since you had three classes to prepare for on Monday, not to mention a possible encounter with Jungkook to brace yourself for – so, going out the next morning, even if it was 8:30 AM, felt surprisingly refreshing. After not talking to anyone besides your roommate the whole day yesterday, it felt unexpectedly nice to make some small-talk with other people.

You got coffee at the local coffee shop before heading to your first class and were surprised to feel your stomach fill with disappointment when the class started and Jungkook didn’t show up. Although, truth be told, you weren’t sure if he was even taking this class at all. Knowing his weekend habits, taking a 9 AM class on a Monday morning seemed like a sure-fire plan for failing. And, honestly, you shouldn’t have cared about his whereabouts anyway. But you did as you found yourself looking for him in every class you went to that day, nearly forgetting your plans to meet up with Namjoon in the afternoon.

You ended up not seeing Jungkook today, after all – good! – and you returned to your dorm, feeling somehow let down – bad! – and annoyed. Grateful for the plans you’d made with Namjoon, you mentally cursed yourself for getting attached to people so easily, and headed to the kitchen for a quick snack before you prepared the work space.

You had already cleared your desk, found the movie you’d promised to show Namjoon, and even started to read one of the books for the project, when your phone buzzed. 

Thinking it was your partner for Sociology letting you know he was on his way over, you were in no hurry to pull back from the chapter you’d just started. But as soon as you teared your eyes away from the book and checked the screen of your phone, a bolt of electricity struck you.

It was Jungkook calling you.

You figured that the two of you must have had a similar thought process because you’d wanted to call him as well, but – contrary to him, by the looks of it – you ended up choosing to stay away. All of your restraint would have backfired if you’d seen him in class today – you were sure of it – but you chose not to dwell on that right now. You focused on your success instead; you’d avoided him for almost two days now – what’s another two years, right?

However, as you stared at his name on the screen of your phone, you really wanted to answer the call. You wanted to hear his voice.

And yet, you could already imagine the conversation you were going to have.

Apologizing wasn’t something that was difficult for you. You could have easily told him that you’d overreacted when you’d last seen him. But an apology would have brought closure, and closure would bring another attempt at a friendship that would eventually end – just like it did before.

The end seemed inevitable. You’d be heartbroken for another seven years – okay, maybe not heartbroken, but it would definitely sting for many more years to come, just as it had before – while he’d be fine, playing shows with his best friends and getting drunk every weekend.

So, choosing to suffer and not give in to your impulses – because it was supposed to save you a lot of pain in the long run – you did not pick up his call. Just a few days of talking to him had already messed you up enough, who knew how strong of a hold he’d establish on you if you allowed him into your life again? You had to learn from your past mistakes and stop putting him first.

The call ended almost as soon as you decided not to answer and you felt yourself release a shaky breath that you’d been holding as your phone vibrated restlessly.

You’d persevered this time. Maybe you’d manage to keep this up all the way to graduation – “Do you still plan everything out in advance?” Jungkook’s voice asked in your head, – but, just in case you couldn’t, you turned the vibration on your phone off and placed it—screen-down—on your desk.

Several minutes later, Namjoon finally arrived with a tentative knock on the door of your room – he wasn’t sure if he got the number right – and the two of you immediately got to work, setting a plan for your project and looking through the books you’d picked up at the library a few days ago.

“We have far too many articles we can use as references,” Namjoon said, thirty minutes into your work session. He had glasses on but he’s been looking down at the desk for so long, they had slipped to the very tip of his nose. “Maybe we should focus on the newest ones?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, getting fidgety after sitting still for so long. “Not going to lie, though, this topic is starting to seem less and less interesting with every new monograph I open.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” he said with a sigh as he brought his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Do you want to take a break? We got through four books already, that’s progress.”

You leaned back in your chair, relieved to hear this suggestion and Namjoon laughed, understanding your answer without hearing you say it.

“We could, uh, watch the movie now if you’d like,” you said then. “Hopefully it’ll inspire us to keep working.”

He doubted a horror movie could inspire you to keep reading the unnecessarily complicated books about the connection between humans, but he’d been looking forward to watching it and, therefore, could not say no. Not to mention, you looked too tired to keep working and he felt bad.

“Alright, sure,” he said, “it’ll be a good distraction. It’s been a long day today anyway.”

“It really has,” you agreed and turned your laptop to face yourself, “I’ll set it up and—”

“Oh!” he gasped suddenly, sitting up straight and startling you. “I was going to bring popcorn! I forgot. I came here right from my last class.”

The thought was really sweet – because you didn’t ask him to bring anything – and it got you to smile.

“That’s okay,” you said and then remembered, “actually, there’s a convenience store across the street, I could go get it.”

“I’ll do it,” Namjoon said, his determination bringing him out of his chair and into your hallway before you could react. “I’m the guest here, after all! And I shamelessly came without anything.”

He was now calling out to you from the other room as he put his shoes on, so you stood up and walked to the threshold of the bedroom.

“Well, to be fair, as the host, I should have been the one to provide the popcorn,” you pointed out but Namjoon was already halfway out the door.

He chuckled at this, fixing his glasses again as he grabbed his backpack, double-checking if the wallet was there.

“It looks like we’re both still learning the proper etiquette,” he said with a good-natured smile. “I’ll get the popcorn. You set up the movie.”

He assigned jobs for you and himself again – it was something he seemed to do a lot as you’d noticed in class – but you found that you didn’t mind his bossy nature. It was nice to be around someone who knew what had to be done and didn’t waste any time with the pleasantries, telling the people around him what they had to do point-blank.

“Yes, sir,” you said and Namjoon considered apologizing for ordering you around but when he lifted his eyes to meet yours, he saw a humorous smile on your lips.

With a small--relieved--chuckle, he nodded one last time and promised to be right back before exiting your dorm and walking down the hall for the elevator.

Left alone, you automatically reached for your phone and only remembered why you’d placed it screen-down when you saw the three missed calls from Jungkook. Apparently, he’d called you twice more after you didn’t pick up.

Inhaling sharply you—pointlessly—tried to convince yourself that your heart had started to beat faster because it was just bored after having been still for so long – yeah, right – and not because Jungkook was fighting for this harder than you’d expected him to.

Then, suddenly, there came a knock on your door.

Confused, you put your phone down and headed back into the hallway of your dorm. If Namjoon forgot something, he could have just entered since the door was unlocked anyway, but he must have been too well-mannered to enter someone else’s house without an invitation—

It wasn’t Namjoon.

“Hi,” Jungkook said when you opened the door. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he lowered his eyes as soon as he saw your face, but not soon enough. You still caught the sight of a bloody gnash running down his left cheekbone.

“Jungkook—what—” you started to say but then ended up stumbling over your own thoughts as you weren’t sure what to ask him first – why he was here, or why he was bleeding. “What happened?”

“Hmm?” he appeared to have been expecting a different question. “Oh—nothing.”

It was clearly not nothing as the boy in front of you purposefully turned his whole body so he could hide the injured part of his face without raising any suspicions – which rose all the suspicions as he stood with his body unnaturally twisted towards the wall next to your door.

“Were you in a fight?” you asked, even though the answer was loud and obvious, and literally right there on his face.

“No—well, yeah, but it’s not serious,” he said, refusing to look at you still. He didn’t come here to stare at the floor but he – like a dense idiot that he sometimes was – did not expect you to ask him about the wound. “It’s just—I wasn’t in the mood and someone provoked me. It’s stupid.”

Stupid or not, he got hurt again even before his injuries from the drunken car accident had time to heal. You craved to know the reasons why he kept putting himself into these sort of situations but you weren’t going to ask; you couldn’t – not after your last conversation.

“You’re bleeding,” you pointed out the obvious.

“I know. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine but your heart was beating too fast and you couldn’t focus on one thing at a time. Finally, you asked him the one question he’d prepared himself for.

“What are you doing here?”

Jungkook raised his eyes to yours and explained very simply, “you didn’t answer my call.”

He said it as if the line of actions leading up from you, not answering his call, to him, showing up on your doorstep, was straight, natural, and absolutely understandable.

You didn’t know what to say to that – it was a comment about as obvious as the “you’re bleeding” one that you’d made just a second ago – but since you were exchanging observations instead of offering explanations, you leaned against the door-frame with your shoulder and crossed your arms over your chest, ready to keep going.

“Right,” you said. “You weren’t in class today.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded and, finally, provided an explanation – however poor it was – for (some of) his actions, “I wasn’t—I didn’t feel like coming.”

You weren’t in a position to question him about this further. And even if you were, he probably wouldn’t have answered you anyway – his defensive stance made that very clear.

“I see,” you said. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said again – it was the only word he seemed to have no problems with – and then added after a moment’s hesitation, “I know it’s not a good enough reason but—”

You cut him off, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d have thought he flinched as he watched your eyes for a lingering moment and then took half a step back. “No, I’m just—”

“Like you said,” you reminded him then, your crossed arms suddenly threatening, “it’s none of my business.”

Jungkook swallowed, his jaw clenched. “”I’m—uh, about what I said… I—”

“Jungkook,” you said and the sound of his name coming from your lips – even under such uncomfortable circumstances – sounded pleasant to his ears. “You… you probably shouldn’t have come.”

You were pushing him away. For the first time in your life, you were standing up to him and Jungkook – with a bruised sense of self-worth and a chest that throbbed with pain much worse than the wound on his cheek – couldn’t help but feel a little scared. You weren’t relenting to him. You weren’t letting him have his way.

Seven years have ensured you learned from your past mistakes.

And that was why Jungkook did not—could not—walk away from your door. He had to prove himself to you now – he’s never had to do that to anyone who wasn’t his father before. And in this particular moment, proving his worth to his father seemed much easier than proving it to you.

“I know that,” he said, now wary that the damage he’d done to your friendship may have been irreversible. “I just didn’t like the way our last conversation ended. I said some things I shouldn’t have said.”

You sighed. “I—no, look. It was me who started it. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that so out of the blue.”

“No, don’t. You had every right to do that. It was—”

“Jungkook,” you said again and if you weren’t going to stop saying his name, he felt like he might have to get his hands out of his pockets and touch you because this was starting to become a torture. “Even though we could have been more mature and just talked about it, you were right when you said that it wasn’t my business to worry about you. It really isn’t.”

He swallowed, a sparkle of fire flickering in his eyes. “No, it’s—”

“No,” you cut him off one last time because you knew something was going to stop you from doing it again: either you wouldn’t manage to open your mouth or he’d throw you against the wall to stop you from talking in some different way because, God knew, Jungkook sure looked like he was seconds away from doing just that. “It’s probably not a good idea for us to—”

“Oh,” a surprised gasp was suddenly heard down the hall. Automatically, both of you turned your heads to look.

Namjoon was coming out of the elevator a few feet down, several bags of popcorn kernels in his hands. He looked confused and even a little embarrassed to have spoken aloud, but his flustered state did not come close to match yours.

“Namjoon,” you said, clearing your throat.

“Namjoon?” Jungkook repeated through clenched teeth, his eyes focused on the unfamiliar guy in front of him. He’d never seen him before but Namjoon had no trouble recognizing the vocalist of Parental Advisory glaring at him.

All of a sudden, Jungkook had switched from agitation and turned to pure irritation – how dare this other guy interrupt you two? – that was quickly replaced by fury – how dare this other guy be your acquaintance that was, obviously, on his way to your dorm? – and you felt the need to do some damage control.

You swore you felt less uncomfortable on the very first date you’d ever gone to – the guy tried to kiss you and bumped his forehead into yours so hard, you thought he gave you both concussions – and, up until this moment, that has been one of the few memories that still made you cringe to this day. This was going to beat it for sure, though.

As you watched Namjoon and Jungkook eye each other warily – and, in Namjoon’s case, awkwardly because he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d just walked into – you wished the earth would swallow you whole because you didn’t know what to say to them – you weren’t dating either of them, so what was there to say, really? – let alone what to do now.

Slamming the door and barricading yourself inside of your room started to seem appealing.

“We’re doing a project together,” you ended up saying, your eyes on Jungkook, even though, objectively, you knew you didn’t owe him an explanation.

And yet, as Jungkook refused to look away from Namjoon, you began to fear that getting into two fights in the span of a few hours, wouldn’t be something that Jungkook was above of. And Namjoon – who was, honestly, just an outsider caught in the middle of something you couldn’t understand yourself – didn’t deserve to get punched simply for getting the popcorn too quickly.

“Yeah,” Namjoon spoke. He felt like he had to say something – you’d have disagreed, convinced that the wrong word from him could have provoked Jungkook to act irrationally – because, reading your body language, he could tell that you were having a conflict with yourself. “We have a project due—”

“You were right,” Jungkook suddenly turned to look at you, his eyes narrow and fierce. You swallowed but didn’t get to say anything back because he added, “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“You—”

If his words didn’t shut you up, then the fact that, as soon as he said them, he turned around on his heels and walked right past Namjoon and towards the staircase certainly did.

Blinking in surprise at his abrupt departure – although, maybe you should have been grateful that he left instead of starting a fist-fight – you glanced at Namjoon who was clumsily making his way towards you.

“I feel like I’ve made the situation a lot worse by opening my mouth,” he said timidly, “or, actually, maybe I made it worse when I got off the elevator. I’m sorry.”

“It’s—no,” you shook your head, moving to a side so he could come in. “It was already bad before you got here.”

Namjoon hesitated outside of your door, not daring to enter. “Are you and him—?”

“No,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear the word that was coming. “We just—we have some unresolved issues, clearly, but we’re—we’re not—”

“I really am sorry if I interrupted,” he said, noticing how much you struggled with the word-that-must-not-be-said.

“It’s okay,” you told him with what you thought was a small smile – but, really, your lips just barely twitched – and Namjoon finally – albeit uncertainly – entered your room. “There wasn’t anything to interrupt. He was about to leave anyway.”

But even though you’d said this, Namjoon wasn’t entirely convinced and apologized several more times throughout the movie. You kept telling him that it was fine – because it really was – but, about thirty minutes into Hereditary, you were no longer really listening to what he was saying, and it wasn’t because you were too into the movie.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he walked away. It was the same look as the one you’d seen right before he drunkenly climbed behind the wheel of a car that night at the party.

keep reading | masterlist

[aelaer]

How about Stephen being infected with a symbiote, but to prevent it from destroying humanity, he merges its existence with the cloak's essence (read: badass venom!stephen)!

This is my oldest prompt - I think over a year now - largely because I knew nothing about Venom or symbiotes; that's one part of the Marvel universe I haven't explored. Some time on Wiki later, I guess this is one of the "corrupted" symbiotes, though I honestly can't figure out how one of them is supposed to destroy a whole planet if it doesn't like, create duplicates of itself to infect millions of beings at once. I guess there's something I missed that I can't find on wiki, but I'll assume it's very dangerous haha. But I threw something together, or tried to, on the off-chance this anon is still around. I don't know if symbiotes all talk disjointed like Venom, but this one really doesn't - sorry if that's not fully accurate. Maybe this one has a better command at English.

Defying the curse that has taken hold

The moment he understood what was happening to him and knew what being had attached itself to him, Stephen threw himself into the Mirror Dimension to isolate himself from all others.

What is this place? said the foreign voice in his head. It is different and yet the same.

"Mirror Dimension," he answered, forcing his voice to a calmness he didn't feel.

The alien parasite—this symbiote—could feel everything, though. Of course. You understand me now, it answered. You know what I am. And you are afraid. 

There was little point in trying to deny the accusation with the creature in his body. It could probably sense the subconscious changes that caused shifts in the chemical balances within him, that charged his emotions. "I know that your species has destroyed entire planets with but one host to start." And despite rumors of more benevolent symbiotes, this one certainly was not. He had felt the strange, sudden urges of blood lust several times throughout the week. It was that symptom in particular that had eventually led him to the awful discovery.

It laughed. It is my nature. And yet you still try to fight. That is pointless. I am amongst the eldest. I have eaten many worlds. You will be mine and this world will be like the others.

Like hell he would. "You underestimate me. If I cannot find a solution to neutralize you, I am fully prepared to die."

Again it was amused. And I move to another host.

"You won't be able to from the Mirror Dimension," said Stephen. "This place is inaccessible to most of humanity. If I die, you are forever stuck here."

It scoffed in disbelief. Your pontificating is quaint. I will enjoy consuming you.

Oh, this thing had no idea what it was getting into.

—— —— ——

This is tedious, said the symbiote five weeks later. It had been quiet for a couple days until that point, as if finally realizing that Stephen was more than willing to make good on his threat. The lofty gestures of destruction and grandeur had also fallen away to something a bit more casual.

Stephen couldn't help but smirk. "I've been through worse tedium." Dormammu came to mind. Hell, even parts of med school were worse than this. This alien parasite really had no idea what war it had started with him.

In the beginning, it wasn't at all difficult to create a portal far from his body, then cross the astral plane to visit Wong with his impromptu plan for the foreseeable future. Wong, in turn, left food and books in a designated drop spot twice a day at designated times. It was easy to avoid it during those times, and Stephen effectively kept himself quarantined within the Mirror Dimension as he researched and experimented on getting rid of the symbiote.

The bad news was that nothing was removing it from his person; the symbiote was too strong for what tricks his research had unearthed this far. The good news was that the symbiote was a good deal less patient than Stephen.

There was silence again for a little while, and Stephen thought it would be quiet again for some time. So when it spoke again about an hour later, he was surprised.

I'm not leaving, the symbiote said. Stephen raised his brow; the tone was interesting. It was less haughty. You know I feed off what you call hormones. You normally make much more in one of your days than I see in other mortals. It's very satiating.

"And yet you still wanted more. I felt your attempted encroachment upon my mind and your desire for blood, and I will not allow it."

There was silence for a moment. I… might be convinced to live with your hormones. There was a lot in the beginning. It was delicious. I especially liked what you call adrenaline.

Stephen pressed his lips together. "That might suit, but from all I've read, your species absorb key nutrients that my vital organs need at an unsustainable rate. I'm afraid the human body simply isn't enough to provide for you long-term." He looked back at his book. "Now that you're more agreeable, perhaps I could place you in a dimension with no organic lifeforms for you to kill."

But that's boring! it whined. It actually whined. I want more adrenaline. You've given me so little.

"You're ignoring the fact that I just told you my body physically cannot handle you." He grimaced. "Even if I could make you swear not to harm Earth or its residents, this isn't sustainable."

Stephen felt a grudging admiration that wasn't from himself. I can't do anything you don't want. I've tried. No one's ever stopped me before. You're strong. There was a pause. I like your strength. I want to stay here—even if you'll only give me hormones.

"Did you not listen to a thing I said about my body's ability—"

You're a sorcerer! the parasite argued. You don't have normal mortal inhibitions. I can feed off many things. I can feed off your magic and you can keep your body's nutrients, as you say.

Stephen felt a spike of alarm. "I need my magic. You cannot have it."

I'm not leaving, it said again, stubbornly.

"I'll find a way to remove you," Stephen promised.

—— —— ——

Another two weeks passed. It was nearing the end of their second month quarantined in the Mirror Dimension and they were still at an impasse. The symbiote was in no way going to break through Stephen's mental defenses, and Stephen was having a hell of a time getting the creature either out of him or dead.

And the news that came with Wong's morning drop that day made Stephen realize just how permanent his situation might be.

The Cloak could immediately feel his resignation as he read the letter and tapped at his arm to ask why his mood changed. "Wong says that the Masters need to look into a new Master for the New York Sanctum if this is not resolved soon." Stephen clenched his teeth; he gave an oath to protect the world, and if this was the only way to do it…

Cloak has an idea, said the symbiote unexpectedly, breaking a three day silence.

That caught him off guard. "Beg your pardon?"

Cloak's volunteering to contribute part of its own magic. It has a significant amount.

Stephen blinked as a number of questions were raised by that statement. The first that was vocalized was, "The Cloak talks to you?"

Not exactly, the symbiote said. It is what you call inorganic. I am of the same kind. But what you call free will is powered by other forces that you have no word for, and in that way I can understand its intentions and it, mine. It was very annoying at the beginning, it ended with a light grumble.

Stephen lifted a hand to one of the gold clasps of the Cloak to indicate it to detach itself. While communication was limited, the cloak could do quite a bit with gestures and touches. "Is what it says true? That you can communicate with it?" he asked as the Cloak came to face him.

The Cloak bowed its collar in confirmation and Stephen pursed his lips. "And you are offering to give part of your magic in order for me to survive and leave here?" Another nod in confirmation. Stephen hesitated. "I don't want to see you harmed."

It won't hurt it, the symbiote said as the Cloak shook its collar and reached out for Stephen's hand in reassurance. Its magic is much older than yours. It is better than yours to sustain me.

Stephen frowned. "I cannot let myself out of here if this symbiote's words do not match his intentions. Can you see its intentions, and does it speak the truth?"

The Cloak nodded twice as the symbiote said, Magic tastes interesting. It is an acceptable substitute for blood, and tastes well with your adrenaline.

He thought about it for a moment. This may be an acceptable solution, as he trusted the Cloak with his life and knew it would not lie. "I do not know what magic would accomplish this."

You don't need to do anything, said the symbiote. It's between Cloak and me. So we'll do it, then we can get out of here.

"Wait," he said before they could start anything. "I will need approval from my peers. If they think it too dangerous, I am obligated to stay here."

He felt annoyance from the symbiote. Fine, it grumbled. It at least knew how futile arguing about this would be.

Stephen wrote a note in response and set it back at the drop point, then waited until the evening to leave his body and travel across the astral plane to meet Wong there. He got there just as Wong stepped through, and as he began to read the note, Stephen broke through the barriers of reality to speak with him.

Wong gave him a look. "You think it's safe?"

"I trust the Cloak."

Wong nodded towards the portal as he went towards it. "Still, you'll need to convince the others."

—— —— ——

Let no one say that Stephen Strange was anything but a very, very good debater. The meeting took two hours as they went through everything that could go wrong and Stephen's answers to why that wouldn't happen, or what they could easily do to prevent catastrophe. Part of him was partially convinced that he won them over through sheer stubbornness.

(It probably helped that they really didn't have any great candidates to take over the New York Sanctum, too. They were still spread too thin and no one really wanted to lose him to a threat that he seemed to have now under control.)

When Wong let him back into the Mirror Dimension, he floated his way back to his body and settled within it.

Well? the symbiote asked.

Stephen frowned as he noticed something off. "... did you try to move me while I was gone?"

... possibly. It must have felt Stephen's irritation and continued, I couldn't really do anything. You've blocked your mind even when outside your body. And Cloak got in the way.

He huffed his annoyance. "Well, if we're going to live with each other, that can't happen anymore."

So they agreed?

"They did," Stephen said. "Now promise me you won't try moving my body while I'm elsewhere."

He felt the pang of disappointment. Fine.

He pressed his lips together. "Right. Well, if the Cloak is still in agreement, you two do what you need to do."

The Cloak shifted. It reached forward on the left side so that it was fully covering his heart, and the right side lifted to cover his head, wrapping his face within the folds of the fabric. He blinked in surprise, but otherwise didn't move.

A short moment later, Stephen could feel the threads of magic about him and entering his skin. This magic was an old magic, a very ancient magic that weaved the very fabric of reality, the inherent magic of Earth that helped create a universe that could support the other magics borrowed from other dimensions that they used in various spellwork. He understood that the Cloak was ancient, but he truly did not realize until that moment the sort of power that was interwoven within each of its threads.

The power was breathtaking and exhilarating.

When the process stopped, Stephen had to remind himself to breathe. Slowly he exhaled, and the Cloak lifted itself off him completely to face him.

It had changed in physical appearance. Its checkered interior lining, formerly a faded red and grey, was now streaked with jagged black lines that spilled like ink from the collar downward. On the exterior, the darker solid red checkers were now pitch black, and the embroidered details upon the lining, the collar, and down part of the back were now made of black thread rather than the lighter red.

"How do you feel?" Stephen asked the Cloak. It spun around once in able movement, then settled down upon his shoulders as if to comfort him.

Cloak's fine, said the symbiote. This feels quite interesting. Tastes good with your adrenaline. Give me more.

"Say please," he muttered, even as his heart, already beating fast from the transformation process, kept its steady, fast beat as he created a portal back into the world. "We'll have some more ground rules to establish if you'll be staying for an extended period within my watch."

I look forward to it, the symbiote purred as Stephen stepped through the gateway and to his new chapter in life.

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Nine, “Strength In Weakness”

Warning! This story contains mentions of: death, cancer, heart attacks, hospitals, funerals, and brief mentions of end of life care. 

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                                     Sneakyyyyyy Peeeeeeeeek

Our tears hold silent words of understanding. Understanding that the other is in pain. Pain perhaps we can’t name, but that of which we share. And they hold the comfort found in that understanding. The pain of watching a sick loved one, because why else would he also be here at 9 pm on a Wednesday night? His sniffles fill my ears, with the movie a hum in the background. I feel everything pour into those tears as I clutch the back of his jumper.

The missing him. The regret. The hundreds of emotions because of that stupid ring. The longing for him. The whirlwind of emotions from when he spoke to my class. The sad happiness at seeing him behind me at the vending machine. The relief. The worry about my dad. The fear from the surgeon’s words. All of the stress. The pain I’ve bottled up from being away from him.

“Harry,” I say aloud, almost on accident. My head would’ve said it, anyways. 

“Becks,” he whispers, sounding disbelieving with a shake of his head. 

“Do you h-have any recommendations then?” I stutter, blinking hard with a mental curse for not even being able to say three words to him before screwing up. 

“Uh, tha giant cinnamon roll isn’t too bad, ‘specially when ya microwave it. ‘s very filling, tho. I doubt ya'll be able t’ finish it all,” he answers with a soft shrug. 

I pull my battered purple wallet from my brown purse. Finding my card, I swipe it and press the code for the cinnamon roll. The curly wire holding it in place unravels. It falls with a satisfying thud. 

“Maybe I’ll have to find somebody to share it with then,” I quip, turning to face him with the cinnamon roll now clutched in my hand. He wasn’t kidding, this thing is big. 

“Well, I might just know where a microwave ‘s,” he replies with a smirk. I nod and follow his long legs clad in fitted joggers. 

The silence is unsettling and awkward as I follow him down the length of the hallway. I wonder at first if he knows where he’s going, but after about twenty seconds, we arrive in the family room on this floor. Hmm, perhaps he’s been in this hospital longer than he can remember, too. Sofas and chairs surround a tv. Familiar puzzles, magazines, and books occupy the nearby table. The fridge hums and clunks nearby. 

“Think there’s anything good on the telly at this time?” I ask nervously, finding a seat on the comfiest sofa around. Fiddling with my hands, I watch him open the bag and place it inside the microwave. 

“Prolly not. ‘s prolly a buncha adverts an’ tha like. Maybe a good movie on somewhere,” Harry answers. 

I blink hard, and yet the same unbelievable image still surrounds me. 

Harry standing with his back to me. 

Black joggers hugging his lean legs. 

Black trainers. 

A gray hoodie donning his upper half. 

His curls are short, but maybe a little longer since the last time I saw him in that lecture hall. 

He plays with them, but stops when the microwave announces its ends with annoying beeping. It’s hard, but I rip my eyes away from his body and reach to pick up the remote. I see him out of the corner of my eye grabbing plates and utensils. The television screen comes to life in front of me, and sure enough an advert for a special type of pillow fills the screen. 

“Christ, not one o’ those my pillow adverts again,” Harry remarks disdainfully as he sits down on the other side of the sofa with a sigh. I toe off my shoes and let them fall to the floor. 

Crossing my legs criss-cross applesauce, I giggle and change the channel. “You say that like you know what he’s talking about.”

“Yeah ‘cause I do, tha bloke’s bloody annoying. I can’t sleep some nights an’ ‘ll accidentally leave tha telly on an’ wake up t’ his bleedin’ voice at 3 in tha morning,” he huffs, pulling a laugh from my lips. “Here ya go, but be careful cuz ‘s hot.”

“Thanks.”

“No, thank you. ‘ve been cravin’ one o’ these, but ‘ve been tryna stay away from those bloody vendin’ machines,” he mumbles, tsking his lips as he cuts a piece of the cinnamon roll. 

I prop my plate on my lap and surf through the channels before finding the movie, The Shining, on an odd channel. “Oooooo, this is a good one,” I comment before picking up my plastic knife and fork. 

“Yeahhhhhhh. Hey, I wouldn’t ‘ave pegged ya fer a King fan,” Harry comments and I shrug before laughing at him. I watch him blow on the huge steaming bite of cinnamon roll. “What, ‘m hungry an’ tha cafe closed hours ago? Plus, dis floor has tha best vendin’ machines.” 

“Nothing, I . . . just can’t remember you ever being patient enough to not burn your mouth,” I laugh, and watch one trickle from his lips. “You were always burning your tongue and mouth on those tacos, and gnocchi soups we had. It looks like nothing’s changed.”

“Oh, but tha churros an’ chocolate sauce were even worse. They were always pipin’ hot,” he adds with his mouth full of ooey gooey cinnamon roll. An uncalled for dirty thought pops into my head, making me clench my fist.

I laugh in agreement, making it hard to blow on my bite of cinnamon roll I hold before my lips. After recovering, the chunk of warm pastry melts in my mouth. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, this is good. How is it always that the trashy vending food tastes the best?”

“I dunno, I reckon they put somethin’ innit t’ make it so addictin’. Tha’s how they make so much bloomin’ money,” Harry comments, cutting another bite as he speaks. My eyes are drawn to his hands. Long fingers, speckled with dark brown hairs. And covered with a couple of rings. When my eyes flit to his ring finger, nothing’s there. My heart does a weird somersault in my chest. At the same time, it pushes away the questions forming in my head. 

Surprisingly, a comfortable silence surrounds us as we eat. And our eyes are glued to the screen playing the end of the movie. Harry finishes his plate first, surely burning his mouth at some point. I finish soon after and we just sit there, lost in the movie. I can’t help peeking at him a few times, and that naked finger. Thick stubble lines his cheeks. It suits him. And I like it. 

I see tiredness pulling at the corners of his eyes when they look back at me. “What?” he says, eyebrows furrowed. I shake my head with blushing embarrassment as the thought still sits there. His lips curl into a smile that grows teasing. 

“N-nothing.”

“I don’ believe you,” Harry continues, refusing to let it go. “Ya’ve neva been a good liar, Becks. C’mon, tell me.”

“Fine,” I relent, watching his face brighten at my words. “It’s just odd. I uh, noticed you were wearing a ring on your ring finger when you spoke to my class back in October. But, now you’re not.” the observation tumbles from my mouth, glad to greet the air. Finally, yet awkwardly. 

My heart sprints in my chest, afraid to hear what he has to say. Apprehensive to hear the answer that I’ve been searching for. I try to prepare myself for it, but at the same time, something inside of me tries to keep me rational. 

“Oh, ya noticed that?” he smiles, earning a nod from me. “Good, that was tha point. Well, not you, jus’ anybody. Tha bloody uni girls always flirt with me when I do those talks. So I wear dis random ring on that finga, hopin’ they’ll back off. It helps, but doesn’t solve tha problem,” Harry explains. His words wash over me like cold shower on a hot day. 

I silently release a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. Then I hear that familiar chuckle of his. 

“What, did ya really think I was married, Becks?” 

I finally look over at him. His eyes crinkle with a knowing grin. I shove his arm and he only giggles harder. “I don’t know,” I confess quietly, looking away with embarrassment. 

I don’t know how I’m going to live this one down. 

But soon a laugh is coaxed from my lips to join his. It’s filled with nothing but relief, and happiness. That though had balled up into a knot in the back of my head. Always bothering me at the worst moments. It worried me, even though I knew I didn’t have that privilege anymore. 

Any more thoughts that were coursing through my skull about it, are finished by his words. “No, ‘m not bloody married, or engaged. Although I thought I’d be at 28, ‘m not even close,” Harry divulges, a sad laugh framing his words. 

My laugh quiets along with his as we enter uncharted waters. I look at him and give him a sympathetic smile. My eyes leave him, but I feel his on me. I wait, wondering if he’s going to say something. After several seconds, I decide to speak. 

“Yeah, well-,” I begin, but I stop when his words tread over mine. 

“How ‘bout you-,” Harry tries to say, but stops when we both start talking at the same time. Another laugh floats between us, and ends in an uncertain silence. 

“Looks like yer better off than me, an’ met a nice bloke at tha uni.” Twirling a silver ring around my pointer finger, his words root me from my spot. My eyes widen at them and then I squint. I try to think of what he means, but it’s hard. 

Unexpectedly, I realize what he’s talking about. And I smile because of the alarm shouting in my head. 

Wait, what does this mean?!

You know what this means, Becky! Maybe he has fe-

“You mean Simon?” I ask, cutting them off before I go too far. 

I really don’t want to go to that place again. We ran into each other at the hospital during a shit day. That’s all. 

“Oh ‘s that his name? I dunno, jus’ looked like ya were with someone. Had his arm ‘round ya,” Harry says in a drawl. Now, his eyes are back on the telly. On Jack Nicholson. 

And there, the thoughts come again. They click together like puzzle pieces. But I don’t let them lead me away from this moment. From reality. 

But, Becky, he lik-!

“No no, Simon . . Simon’s just my friend. We kind of knew each other in high school back in Madley. We were both surprised to see each other in Crim. and we picked up where we left off,” I tell him, peeking a look over at him. But I have a good feeling he’s pulling a Becky and avoiding eye contact. “Plus, Simon has a boyfriend named Dylan.”

“Ohhhhh, my bad,” Harry replies, glancing over at me. When we meet eyes, his crimson face dissolves into giggles. 

They’re contagious and bring one forth from my lips. All of a sudden, I can’t stop laughing. And neither can he, it seems. It feels so nice. The laughs keep coming, rolling over each other. Smoothing over the fissure that ring had eroded inside of me. They make me feel less stupid about the whole thing. Instead, they help me to acknowledge the fact that it was just a misunderstanding. And that evidently, they happen to all of us. I try not to read into it any more than that as our laughs die down. I won’t let myself. A comfortable silence fills the space our laughs previously did. 

A scene from the movie catches our attention, and the misunderstandings are seemingly forgotten. I really get into the movie for the next 10 minutes, and I think so does he. I can barely tear my eyes away. But they leave the telly when he pulls his phone from his pocket. I watch his face turn from calm to upset when he reads something. On the other side of the couch, he types something back quickly. But I see the tears soon pricking at the corners of his eyes as he holds his forehead. 

I don’t know what to say as I look away, trying to give him privacy. But then I hear him sniffle and try to clear his throat. I know how that goes, and that it doesn’t work. It doesn’t make the lump in your throat go away. He sighs and when I chance another look, he’s looking away from me. But I hear the crying. Suddenly, I feel my heart break, even more than it already has today. 

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m scooching over to sit next to him. Seeing his left hand sitting on his knee, I pick it up and lace my fingers with his. I give it a squeeze and return my eyes to the telly. And wait. A familiar scene unfolds in front of me on the screen. I don’t even grimace at the blood like I did when I was a child. I take comfort in the nostalgia tied to this movie for me. But it doesn’t drown out the sounds of Harry crying. And the pain I feel at not being able to help him. 

After a few more minutes of watching the movie, no words pass between us. But then I think to check on him again. As I do, he looks over at me with red eyes. Wet from spent tears that keep coming. A shy smile inches up his lips, but it’s an embarrassed one. And so it doesn’t last long. 

“You’re gonna make me cry,” is all I say, because the tears are already bleeding into my words. We pull the other into our arms where we go to cry on their shoulder. 

Our tears hold silent words of understanding. Understanding that the other is in pain. Pain perhaps we can’t name, but that of which we share. And they hold the comfort found in that understanding. The pain of watching a sick loved one, because why else would he also be here at 9 pm on a Wednesday night? His sniffles fill my ears, with the movie a hum in the background. I feel everything pour into those tears as I clutch the back of his jumper. 

The missing him. 

The regret. 

The hundreds of emotions because of that stupid ring. 

The longing for him. 

The whirlwind of emotions from when he spoke to my class. 

The sad happiness at seeing him behind me at the vending machine. 

The relief.

The worry about my dad. 

The fear from the surgeon’s words. 

All of the stress.

The pain I’ve bottled up from being away from him. 

Fistfuls of my hoodie are balled up in his hands. His prickly face is hidden in my neck where he spends his tears. I long to lose my fingers in his familiar hair to comfort him. But I know that I’m already doing that as we share each other’s pain. His clean scent fills my nose as I breathe shakily against his shoulder. 

“‘s my granddad, Becks,” he chokes out, coughing. “H-he hadda heart attack this afternoon. Dunno if he’ll make it. He’s onna ventilator with machines keeping him alive. I neva wanted t’ see him like that. An’ tha thing ‘s, he has in his last wishes t’ not live like that . . . A-and now my family’s askin’ me if I wanna be there when he passes,” his words stop, making my heart grow heavy with each one. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry. That should never be a decision you have to make,” I tell him in raggedy breaths. “It’s so awful watching somebody die. Not even just in the moment, but after. When my granddad passed, right when I started working for you, I was there when it happened. And it still haunts me to this day. My mum forced me to be there, and I think I wished I hadn’t. It was terrible watching him gasp for air, and not knowing when would be his last breath. But at the same time, I’m glad he wasn’t alone. I don’t know, it’s a hard decision to make. But you need to make that decision for you and what you want, Harry. Not what your family wants.”

He nods into my neck, humming an ‘mmmmhmm.’ “Do you need to decide now?” I ask, words still coated in tears. 

“No, I don’ think so. But he had surgery a few hours ago an’ tha doctors are sayin’ it doesn’ look like he’ll wake up,” Harry confesses, words dissolving into more tears. 

I hold him tighter against me and cry with him. My tears come from the fear of losing my dad. Remembering being in the same seat as Harry when my granddad passed. And I cry for Harry and the nightmare he’s going through. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” is all I can say. 

I listen to his heavy sobs that make his body shake. Pressing my lips together hard, I shed tears into his hoodie. I feel like I can hardly catch my breath. It only becomes worse when I hear the next words that leave his lips. 

“Is yer dad okay, Becks?” he asks, trying to breathe in. But I can tell it’s hard by the shakiness of his words. 

“I don’t know,” I sob, my words almost incoherent. He nods into my neck, rubbing a hand up and down my back. “He had surgery to remove the tumor. B-But it took longer than they said it would. And then the surgeon said they don’t know if they got it all. Which means he for sure has to have more chemo. And I’m just so scared. I don’t want my dad to have cancer anymore.” 

“‘m really sorry, Becks,” Harry coughs in between tears, his hand rubbing in circles. Uneven breaths leave his lips as choked sobs leave mine. The tears follow one after the other. Ugly sounds follow. 

I can’t find the strength to speak again, and so I nod. My arms shake clutching at his sweatshirt. My white-knuckled hands relax and I fall into him. All of my inhibitions and self-made promises are out the window. I told myself I wouldn’t let him in again, and here I am. And I’m glad I broke that promise. Long, broken sobs are muffled into his shoulder. His hands move in circles on my back as my mind finally entertains all of the possibilities. 

My dad’s cancer not being cured. 

My dad needing even more chemotherapy. 

Maybe even radiation. 

None of that working. 

Everything being the same between Harry and I after this. 

And how much that hurts me. All of it. 

Talking to my dad about his last wishes. 

Watching him take his last breath. 

I let Harry hold me as I let myself feel every single raw feeling. Sobs rack my body and make it shake as a steady stream of tears paints my cheeks. I hear his too, and they only make me cry harder. 

Wiping my nose with a kleenex, I watch him surf through the channels. Finally, he settles on an old episode of Scooby Doo, Where Are You? The daunting figure of the Wax Phantom materializes in the museum. I lift my head and readjust where it rests on Harry’s shoulder. Before my eyes, the monster trudges around the wax museum. My eyelids grow heavy, but I blink hard trying to wake up. This happens again and again, with my eyelids slowly growing heavier. 

But it’s no use. After too many times, I can’t resist succumbing to sleep with my head on Harry’s shoulder and his arm rubbing mine. 

+

I wake up on the surface of the scratchy sofa. The telly is playing an advert softly in the background. Rubbing my eyes crusted with sleep, I groan. With a tired sigh, I try to fall back asleep. I almost begin to, but a thought steals the sleep away. Pulling myself up to sit, I look around with fuzzy eyes. 

I’m all alone. 

Two blue hospital blankets have fallen to lay at my feet. 

And two white pillows sit ignored in front of me. 

Checking my phone, I see the time is 3:24 am. And that I have missed calls and texts from several people. 

Robbie. 

My aunt. 

My grandma. 

My mother. 

And 2 texts from Harry. 

Ignoring all of the others, I quickly open Harry’s from 16 minutes ago. 

i’m sorry. had 2 go. didn’t wanna wake u. thank u for being there 2night, so much 

And there’s another one that came a few minutes later. 

im so proud of u becks. u know why 

My heart skips when I read his words, and the heart emoji that finishes them like a period. I’m guessing he means the stuff going on with my dad, but more so for going back to law school. It makes my heart swell with happiness. But it beats fast at the sight of them as well, suddenly worrying what happened that he had to leave. And in that same moment, I feel heavy with worry about him. My thumbs dart across the screen, composing a hurried and sleepy reply. 

It’s okay I understand. I hope everything is okay. Remember to do what’s best for you. Please let me know if I can help. You’re so welcome Harry and I can’t thank you enough too. And thank you so much. I really want to make you proud. Thinking of you 

I don’t bother to read over my words finished with a heart emoji tool. I send the text, and try to go back to sleep. Because I can’t think about everything that happened tonight. 

My dad. 

Seeing Harry, and sharing what we did. 

And him . . leaving. 

The sickening worry it fills me to wonder the reason why. 

Because now it’s like it never happened. 

Luckily, the second my head hits the pillow, I’m asleep again.

+

I can’t stop looking. I hardly believe what I see, but I know I have to. A stranger stares back at me. Sullen eyes. Shaven cheeks for the first time in weeks. Styled hair. Dry eyes that stare back at me blankly. And a mouth that feels like it hasn’t smiled in months. But I know it hasn’t been that long. But this nightmare feels like it. 

“Shit,” I mutter, bending down to pick up the violet tie that fell to the floor. Black wildflowers scatter the fabric. It seemed perfect for the occasion when I picked it out yesterday. But now I’m not sure anymore. 

I wrap it around my neck again, for the second or third time. Going through the motions to tie it, I get a little farther than last time. Then my fingers stop, like they keep doing. Huffing, I step back and lean against the wall. I feel the chapped surface of my bottom lip come between my teeth. Oh yeah, I gotta remember to bring chapstick too, I add to my seemingly never ending list. 

My thoughts are interrupted by the clanging sound of my postbox outside. Within a few seconds, I’ve opened my door and see my postman walking onto the next house. A stack of letters is what I find waiting for me. 

“Great, mo’ sympathy cards an’ bills,” I groan, dropping the mail on the table beside the door. With plans to finally get this damn tie tied, I look back to the mirror above the table. But something catches my eye. 

The letters have splayed themselves out sloppily on the brown table. Most of them are white, but one of them isn’t. One is a soft blue. Once again, the words inside of my head are stolen away by a sound. Fishing out my phone from the pocket of my slacks, I answer it. 

“Ya, I know. ‘m gonna leave soon, ‘s not like ‘m late or anythin’,” I respond, sifting through the letters. Bill after bill meets my eyes. “I was there all bloody night last night fer tha wake, so why do I need t’ be early t’day?” Tossing the bills to the side, I keep sifting through them. 

“I know, alright? But I . . I jus’ can’t alright? I can’t do all tha huggin’ e’rybody right now, ‘m sick of it. There’s plenty mo’ family ‘round who can do it,” I tell them through gritted teeth. The powder blue card is next in my hands. My voice catches when my brain conjures the owner of that bubbly handwriting. “I’ll be there at 2:30 an’ no earlier,” I rush, hanging up on them. Stuffing my phone away again, I instead pick up the envelope. 

Within seconds, I pull the card out from the sea of blue. Wildflowers decorate the front along with words card companies think are comforting. All of the other ones have hardly been that, but these ones are closer than before. Just seeing her handwriting peeking at me from the inside is more comforting than all of the others combined. I feel the tears pressing at the back of my eyes, ready to fall at command. 

With a deep breath, I’m greeted by her bubbly letters in purple ink. I can’t say I’m surprised, it’s her favorite color. 

Harry,  It took me twenty minutes to pick out a card, because none of them seemed good enough. None of them said the right words that I wanted to say, so I finally just picked this one. Even if I looked for 3 hours, I don’t know if I would’ve found the “right” one... I hope it’s okay. I saw your granddad’s obituary in the paper today. I don’t even think the words ‘I’m sorry’ are close to what I feel for you and want to say, Harry. They weren’t the right words when my granddad passed. They were what everybody said, and after a while, I hated hearing them. They became redundant and meaningless. But I am sorry, Harry. I’m sorry that you lost your grandfather, and the unimaginable pain you’re going through missing him and trying to live a life that he’s no longer a part of. I’m so sorry that you’re hurting. Some days it seems it gets easier. But other days are hard, I’ve learned. They’re the anniversaries, birthdays, days they enjoyed, family get togethers, or really any day that ugly grief decides to return. We all handle grief differently and so it’s hard to give advice. But take care of yourself. Please, Harry. If that means staying at home watching Netflix, or distracting yourself with work, that’s okay. It’s your pain, it belongs to you. It’s okay to handle the pain however you decide to, but please take care. You don’t have to visit his grave. You don’t have to talk about him again if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to cry if that’s not you. Or you can cry all of the time, or you can talk about him all of the time, too. But you do have to feel the pain, as terrible as it is. I never really found anything that helped, but I like to remember my granddad sometimes by doing things he loved. I go fishing on opening day with Robbie, I stuck one of those suctioned bird feeder on one of our windows, I make or buy a vanilla cupcake on his birthday and sing happy birthday to him, sometimes I visit his grave and bring things he likes but I know I don’t have to go there to talk to him. I know that I don’t have to do those things to make it feel like he’s with me, because he always is. I’m sorry that this card is all about me, but I hope that my words help. Even just a little bit. Please know that I’m thinking of you, and your family. I know what you’re going through, and how hard it is. I’m not going to say ‘things will be okay,’ because I know that’s the opposite of how things feel right now and for the near future. I know how much it hurts. I know that by the time you get this card, the funeral is any day now. That was one of the hardest parts for me, and it made it all the more surreal. I’m sending you so much strength and love, Harry. If there's anything I can do to help, please know I’m here for you.  Love,  Becks xoxoxo

The first laugh I’ve spent in days greets the air. But it’s ironic and surprising, I’m not sure. Only a few seconds later, tears accompany it. Soon, my phone is back in my hand where I banished it from minutes ago. And my ass is sitting on the bottom of my staircase. And I’m dialing the number I’ve been itching to for the last week. 

They answer on the third thing. 

My aching heart is soothed with the sound of their voice. Like the drought welcoming the rain. 

“Hi,” I say slowly, my words sodden with tears. 

“Hi, Harry,” she replies, sounding surprised. But her voice brings me comfort, the most I’ve felt in the last 8 days. It’s loud where she is, but in a couple of seconds, it isn’t anymore. 

“I got yer card, I uh jus’ read it. It was so sweet, Becks. I don’ think ‘thank you’ could begin t’ cover it,” I tell her slowly, uncertain what to say. I watch my feet grow blurry in front of me, and then refocus when another warm tear hits my cheek. 

“I’m glad you got it. You don’t have to thank me. W-what are you doing?” she asks, taking time with her words. 

“Tryin’ t’ get meself t’ put onna bloody tie. Ya know, me granddad tried t’ teach me once. But he gave up an’ admitted me gran’ always did it fer him,” I confess, the words falling out fast. 

An amused hum comes from her. “That’s funny. My granddad always bragged about being able to tie ties blindfolded, or something. He tried to teach Robbie, but it never stuck. It just ended in tears and yelling,” she comments. 

A smile warms on my lips, and I nod. To who, I don’t know, since she certainly can’t see me doing it. Regrettably.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” she guesses softly, earning a confirming ‘mmmhm’ from me. 

“I’m wearin’ all black. Seems like too much of tha color, but I couldn’ bear t’ look at anythin’ else in me wardrobe.”

“As long as you’re comfortable, Harry, and black isn’t such a bad color. It fits the emotion, I guess you could say,” Becky says. I sniffle and wish her voice didn’t stop playing in my ear. 

“Yer right . . . ,” I agree aloud, not knowing what to say next. I hate this part. “I didn’ stay that night I saw you. I . . . thought I could do it, but I couldn’. I drove ‘round an’ cried, feelin’ all sorts o’ terrible. Terrible fer not bein’ there with him. Terrible as I waited fer tha text that he was gone. Even more so when I got tha text . . . An’ terrible ‘cause it didn’ really feel much different aftawards.”

“That’s okay. Grief doesn’t really follow any rules, Harry. And it certainly doesn’t make any sense. It never feels right. I’m so sory,” Becky tells me, somehow making sense of something I can’t even begin to make sense of. 

“Ya ‘ave all tha right words t’ say,” I smile with a laugh that’s out of place, yet sad. My lips quiver as the tears run over them. 

“I doubt it, but I hope that means they’re helping in some capacity.”

“Ya always help, Becks,” I divulge quietly, unsure if she heard me or not. 

“Can you tell me what he was like?” Becky inquires. 

“Ya. He was um, wicked tall. Told tha best stories, but like ya neva knew how much truth there was t’ ‘em. He made tha best grilled cheese, an’ somehow always with bread he made himself. He had this laugh that I loved. It surrounded a room when ya heard it. He always smelled o’ peppermint gum. He was always whistlin’, or singin’ Sinatra songs t’ himself. He made tha best popcorn on tha stovetop, an’ e’ry time I was ova. He taught me so much an’ turned me onto so many things that I love. He’s so much of who I am, an’ I dunno how t’ let him go now.” The memories turn into words, coming easier the further I go. A warmth accompanies them as they pass through. But they’re hard to get out, as the bittersweetness drowns them in my mouth. 

“You don’t have to let him go, Harry,” she disagrees.

“B-but he’s dead,” I cry, feeling my body relinquish control to the sobs.

“But that doesn’t mean that you have to forget him like that. He’s still your granddad. You can still enjoy those memories of him. You can be happy he’s not in pain anymore without feeling guilty. You can still hold him in your heart. You can be mad at the world. You can be broken. There’s no right or wrong answer, Harry. It doesn’t feel that way, I know, but however you feel in the moment is okay. It’s okay to feel that way.” her words feel like a warm blanket coming over me after a bad day. They wrap me up in their syllables and hold me together, while I can’t. 

I can hardly get out the words ‘thank you’ without my intermittent sobs covering them up. 

“Of course,” is all she says. In her voice sweet as clover honey. 

Radio silence follows her requital with my occasional whimpers punctuating my tears. This continues for a few minutes, but it’s not awkward. I feel comfort just from knowing that she’s there. But a thought edges its way in, ruining that contentment. 

The ticking of the clock peaks my interest suddenly. More time has passed than I thought it had. “I uh should prolly get goin’ soon if I wanna make it on time, so me family doesn’t have a row,” I suddenly say. 

“Yeah yeah, of course. Um, drive safe and, I hope everything goes well. You can text me if you want. I’m just, at work,” Becky replies fast, her words stalling at parts. I hear the nerves wired in her buttery voice. 

“Thanks, love. I’ll rememba. But uh get back t’ work, kay?” I quip, feeling memories between us seep into my words. 

“Yes, sir,” she replies, following along. I welcome it with the smallest of laughs. 

“Good,” I exhale, unsure of how to end the call. And unsure if I even want to. Because this was nice, albeit the circumstances marked by hundreds of tears. It was nice to hear her voice, although I know I’ll miss it in a minute. That thought begins a new ache inside of my chest. “I’ll let ya go then. Have a good weekend, an’ take care, Becks.”

“You too, Harry. Thanks for calling,” she says, and I hear it in her voice. The shared uncertainty and nervousness. The awkwardness often there at the end of a phone call. 

“And thanks fer pickin’ up, Becks.”

“Bye, Harry,” she almost whispers. 

It takes every ounce of strength I have residing in me to echo her words, “G’bye, Becks.”

With every second that passes absent of her voice, the thought grows louder. It’s no longer ignorable. But I don’t let it take hold of me as I’m watching myself in the mirror. Wrapping the tie around my neck, and going through the motions. Tightening it around my neck as the tears begin to dry on my face. Then as I compose a text with forgotten words. 

i hope ur dad is doing better. thx for being there becks xxx

The timer on my phone begins to buzz as I shut off the entryway light. Sitting on the steps once more with my shoes in hand, I acknowledge it. The thought that’s been tinkering away in my brain. Gaining speed. 

It wasn’t enough talking to her on the phone. I wanted her here with me, again. I wanted to hide in her arms. Her scent of oranges and cloves blanketing me. Her words falling over me like snow, but without a phone separating us. I want her here with me. 

I feel my heart lurch deep down as I grab hold of the door handle. The unspoken words settle with me as I attempt to find the strength to leave. Somewhere I find it, buried in the words she spoke into me mere moments ago. 

Because that’s all I have, even if I don’t really have her. 

[mojofun]

White Lies and Dark Truths (Ch 3)

Hello lovelies! This is the third and final chapter to the story I’m writing for @obsessedwithrandomthings​‘s writing challenge for getting 500 followers.

The prompts I chose were <<You know what? Fuck you!>> and <<I’m done pretending. You can leave>>

All’s well that ends well :) .

Gif not mine, credits to @d-r-a-c-o---m-a-l-f-o-y​

Apparently, he’d prayed too hard, and his wishes had come true.

He’d perished. Definitely.

Draco was inside his room in the dorms, sitting on the bed and brooding over the not-so-recent events.

He’d kissed Solana, about a week earlier, and he hadn’t seen her since then.

Not a soul knew of what had happened outside the castle, and if it were up to him nobody ever would, though it would only be fair if she went and told the whole world. He had expected it in the beginning, to be honest, but no one had come up to him to talk about it, not even Pansy.

That meant Solana kept the story to herself.

It hurt even more, mistrusting the person he loved, especially upon finding out that all his accusations were unfounded… But he knew she had every right to hurt him.

Still... It wasn’t this he had in mind when he said he wanted to succumb.

The next trip to Hogsmeade loomed over their heads. No turning point this time, unfortunately.

Even a bad one would have been good; it would mean he could still do something about the whole ordeal. Stagnation let his wounds fester, so he spent all his free time cooped up in his room.

He was going mad.

If only someone had warned him that even pretending to date Solana Kenneth would make him fall in love with her head over heels...

Would he have believed them? After all, she was just a filthy mudblood, and he was a pureblood that came from an ancient and noble lineage. He didn’t have time for her.

She was everything he wasn’t, the exact opposite.

That probably meant that she was happy. Incredibly so.

Contrary to what he told her, he did not ask Pansy to be his date. Absolutely.

He just wanted to hurt her. Knowing how much he’d succeeded, however, made him sick.

What made him even sicker was the sight he was met with as he headed toward the Three Broomsticks.

Solana was walking in his direction. Not toward him, just in his direction.

The first thing he noticed was her smile; it always dazzled him, and it made her lips look even more kissable.

The twinkle in her obsidian eyes was second, but not less beautiful. Then came her luscious brown hair that stopped at her shoulder and framed her dark-skinned face so nicely.

The young wizard silently thanked the snow for the redness on his face, otherwise, he would have had to explain to his companions why the presence of the Gryffindor was making him blush. Oh, how he hated it.

So much.

Luckily, he’s gotten quite good at hiding his feelings.

He also hated that she was as beautiful as usual, maybe more.

What made him feel like someone plunged a knife in his back was the wizard on her arm.

Dark, unruly hair, glasses, Gryffindor scarf...

It was him. Harry Potter.

They looked so cosy, so sickeningly sweet...

Solana was on a date with Harry F*****g Potter.

Draco saw red for a moment.

Jealous swirled violently in him, threatening to cause a violent outburst.

Then, everything turned blue.

The possessiveness he felt transformed into wistfulness, heartache for what could have been his but he was too stupid to cherish.

As he had predicted, she was happy. Nauseatingly so. With him, of all people.

Well, he reflected with a sigh, the important thing was that she was happy.

She deserved it, just like he deserved the sadness that hung over him like a grey, rainy cloud.

Thus thinking he spun on his heels, intent on putting as much distance as possible between him and Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and any other person... Most importantly, between himself and the lovey-covey couple that almost made him throw up his breakfast just moments before.

A few hours later Draco was walking in the snow, a little far from the village but still close enough that he could see it. He spotted the sign of Madam Puddifoot’s and inevitably wondered if Sainted Potter has taken his girl there.

The mental image alone made him queasy.

He was so distracted that he bumped into someone

<<Watch where you’re going, you filthy little->>

His breath was knocked out of his lungs.

The first thing he noticed was her smile; it always dazzled him, and it made her lips look even more kissable.

The twinkle in her obsidian eyes was second, but not less beautiful. Then came her luscious brown hair that stopped at her shoulder and framed her dark-skinned face so nicely

<<Solana...>>

<<Malfoy>>

Draco gulped

<<What... What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your date?>> He spat the last word venomously, trying to disguise his agony.

To no avail

<<Well, I guess I should... If any of it were real>>

Silence enveloped them for a while.

His brain galloped a mile a minute, and yet, it was still unable to grasp the meaning of her words.

Or maybe it wasn’t, and he had understood... He just couldn’t bring himself to believe it

<<Wha->>

She smirked slightly

<<Does it hurt? Does it hurt to be stabbed in the back by someone you, I dare say, care about?>>

Silence again, but for a shorter interval this time

<<You’re telling me it was a ploy?>>

<<Just like yours, Malfoy>>

Once more, he wondered why she hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin.

Maybe they could have avoided all the mess. But in that case... He would have never even spoken to her, missing out on something grand…

Yeah, a grand agony.

Or maybe…

<<You are evil>>

<<Says you. You’re the one who struck first>>

<<You did this while you were perfectly aware of my feelings for you, of how deep they are! I only planned on making you develop a crush on me!>>

The fire from the day before returned.

That was why she belonged in Gryffindor

<<How can I trust you? How could I believe in your feelings for me? How could I believe they were real?>>

<<They are real, unfortunately for me! And pardon my curiosity->>

So much sarcasm

<<But if you didn’t think I care for you, why would you organise a fake date with Potter?>>

<<I just planned to annoy you, not stoking you so much...>>

She faltered.

Good, he seethed; she was finally understanding

<<Well thank you, Kenneth>> He growled <<Thank you for delivering the final, fatal stab>>

The blond spun on his heels and prepared to walk away, but something stopped him.

A soft, curvy and very feminine body bumped square into him, knocking him to the ground. She straddled him and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling his face close to hers

<<How is it that I’m always the one who has to apologise?>>

<<I apologised last time, Kenneth. Now it’s your turn>>

<<You’re an asshole>>

<<And you’re a demon>>

<<Just->>

The young wizard cut her off like the last time they spoke, kissing her again. He pulled away after a while, but there was no smile on his face

<<I’m done pretending. You can leave. You got what you wanted>>

The brunette broke out of her trance, shaking her head

<<No, I haven’t>>

<<Do you need to hurt me more?>>

<<No>>

<<Then what is it that yo->>

This time she cut him off, pressing her lips to his.

It lasted just a moment, enough to both make him feel like he was dreaming and make him know it was real

<<So... Solana...>>

<<Will you shut up and kiss me, Draco?>>

He unexpectedly flipped them over, making her squeal

<<With pleasure, darling>>

They made out on the snow like there was no tomorrow. They weren’t even worried about getting caught.

A few days later Solana was walking with her friends in the corridor when a group of first-year Slytherins stopped in front of her

<<Look, it’s the fool!>> They mocked 

<<Hello, Kenneth! Are you ready for the next date with Draco?>>

<<Hogsmeade every time... It must be getting boring!>>

The two girls who walked with the brunette rolled their eyes, ready to tell them off, but someone beat them to it

<<Actually>> Draco began, walking toward her <<This time I’m planning on taking her somewhere special>> He purred, cupping her chin in his hand.

The witch beamed

<<Mh... This sentence could be misunderstood, you know>>

<<I said what I said, darling. To avoid misinterpretations, I’ll follow through with both threats>>

<<Fine by me>>

The first years could only gape, along with everyone else close by, when the two leaned in for a kiss.

Now there were both finally, unbelievably happy.

[paint-pilot]

shit it’s been a second, guess it’s time to update again

edit: holy christ this is long, i’m gonna readmore it. tl:dr tyler has many badweird feelings but is getting through it. fun body changes, including hair growth and an unexpectedly nice voice. surgery and legal matters are Annoying. tw for menstruation

it is truly bizarre to think that i’ll have been five months on t in a little under two weeks. another month after that and it’s half a year. it’s uhh...weird. quarantine has just made this all feel weird. it’s like i fast-forwarded through this whole journey i was supposed to go on i guess? like i got randomly torn out of my life one day in march with no warning and then just as suddenly got spat out in august with a new life - new name, new face, new major, new identity - and no transitional period whatsoever. my classmates, my professors, my students, they all have only known me as tyler. and only ever will know me as tyler. and that’s great! it’s great, and i’m truly just blown away by how markedly easy it’s been and how weirdly good my timing was in transitioning. but it almost feels like i’m still a ways behind everyone else, i guess. i’ve spent so much of my life hiding, and lying through my teeth, and covering my ass every second of every day to protect myself, and i don’t have to do that anymore but the instinct is 100% still there and that honestly doesn’t feel good. of course i’m not making any of it up - i’m happier now than i’ve ever been, and i know i’m making the right choice - but it still persistently keeps feeling that way.

it’s just difficult, i think, to balance wanting to be read as male (and, to a large extent, wanting to keep my transness hidden both for safety reasons and so people don’t start treating me differently) and finding it difficult to hide this truly massive life change that, like, four people are really seeing anything of. and y’all, i guess, lol. it’s one thing to talk about all this in therapy, but it’s another entirely to just be able to share it with strangers and not worry about it being weird.

i was writing this with the intent of it being a mostly happy update but i guess there is some negativity boiling up so. gotta be honest, i guess? there’s a lot of fun trauma stuff i’ve been going through lately that i won’t get into but it’s culminated with this bullshit in this really fun way where my mom gets upset because i get kind of uncomfortable when she shows me childhood photos or tells stories about me as a little kid and then i just break down for reasons i really can’t discern. i’m going to try and articulate this, and who knows how messy it’s going to get, so i apologize if it gets kind of incoherent from here on out. as far as i can tell the root thing that she really gets upset about is that i’ve “thrown away” my whole previous identity. like, not a direct quote, but “you can’t just pretend [deadname] never existed. because she did, for a long time.” and...sure, i guess. i know this has been hard on my mom. i know she was raised in a conservative family, and while she has worked hard to adopt an accepting and open mindset she still doesn’t 100% grasp all of it and will make mistakes. i’ve made my peace with that. and yet. it’s not so much, really, that i was this other person and then became tyler, y’know? tyler did not appear suddenly two years ago where she once stood. tyler put on a mask, even before he knew he was tyler, because tyler was scared and ashamed but people seemed to like her and, for a time, she was an easy person to be. and i hated her. that is so fucking scary for me to say, and i’m not sure i’ve admitted that until literally right this second, but i did. not because she was a bad person. because she had a voice and a face and a body that i hated. because people saw her and assumed they knew me. because even she had many faces, because there was no real base or identity to her, just traits designed to paint a pretty picture and make people like her. because i knew, when i finally threw her away, people would miss her. compare me to her. expect me to be like her.

so i don’t know. i don’t have a satisfying way to wrap this up, because i honestly don’t know how to face this because i know it is absolutely not just the trans thing that created this situation. i’m kinda warring with myself, because i do kinda want to go back through this blog and delete photos of myself with long hair and whatever (because jesus, i’ve had this thing since i was like 14) but i genuinely don’t know if that’s healthy. i know i’m going back on my bullshit, fretting this way and that over whether something is “healthy” as though that’s an objective term without considering what’s going to make me happy, but honestly? i don’t know anymore. i keep sensing the mental block - the swathes of my childhood that i cannot recall, just vague, constant unease - and i don’t really know if i want to dig into all of that and learn what lies underneath because i’m sort of afraid of it. like i said, i’m happy now, happier than i’ve ever been, and i’d sort of like to just leave it like that. but i guess the length and tone of this post might argue otherwise.

anyways. anyways. enough mental health therapy, more actual hormone therapy updates since that’s what this goddamn thing is supposed to be i think? i’m finally starting to grow some noticeable hairs - my chin hair is coming back after my mom made me shave it before i left for school lol, as are a handful of mustache/lower lip/sideburn hairs. i keep feeling phantom bugs on my legs/feet and i’ve only just now recognized that that’s just leg hairs brushing against places i’m not used to. my appetite has picked up like absolute hell again, too, so i don’t know if i’m just having a metabolic spurt or what. also, i’ve started bruising more? idk what the hell that’s about - i fucking never bruise unless i’ve been hit Hard, and i kind of assumed testosterone would make you less likely to bruise, but then that’s probably just not related to the hormones at all. i was gonna put this in the tags but seeing as this post is already so long i might as well put a readmore and just put this here lol: my period is late, like, four days late, which is exceedingly unusual for me and might mean i’m finally done. or almost done. fingers crossed.

my voice has started to settle, it seems like. i popped out an e2 yesterday, which is Sick, but i’m not as focused on that anymore as i am on the actual quality of my tone. which is...good? i’m not just a baritone, i’m kind of a good one, at least it seems like. i’m really working right now on just getting familiar with my instrument - i’m second-guessing my pitch sensitivity a lot, but i think i really just need to drill and practice until everything starts feeling like second nature again. but since the musical didn’t happen for me, my coach wants to enter me in a classical solo competition next spring. so...no more retirement from competitive singing. i’m back! and thank god, because i’m starting to go crazy without being in musical work lol.

jesus fuck, i have a lot to say. i should probably split this into two posts but i don’t care. i am frustrated; i tried to get an appointment with a pro bono legal program for a name change, but it happened today and i wasn’t invited so apparently i’m on my own. and i’m frustrated. i’m trying to look at internships and shit for next summer, but i kind of can’t apply right now because my legal name and sex don’t line up with my presentation, and i don’t really know how easy it is to get away with that in this day and age and especially in my field. genuinely, if anyone has any advice, i’d appreciate it. i don’t know how long this will take, i don’t know what the requirements are, i don’t know if i’m better off just applying now and hoping they don’t eliminate me before ever getting me an interview. and, of course, i’m working on getting consultations for top surgery, but i keep catching myself procrastinating that. which seems weird, but listen. i’ve said it before but i have to emphasize, i am capital-t Terrified of getting this surgery. i know i need to, i know it will make things better for me, i know now is the time, i know i hate binding and can’t really get away with not doing so, but jesus fuck i am so frightened of anesthesia it’s not even funny. but i guess i’m mostly just calling myself out here and telling myself to quit being a big baby, schedule the thing, and give myself a few months to prepare.

anyway. that’s all i have to say. i’d apologize for ranting, but honestly...i dunno. i know at the start of all this a handful of you requested these updates, and i have to imagine it’s because at least some of you are transitioning, are thinking of doing so, or know someone who is or will be soon. and i just hope someone out there can at least relate, because there honestly just aren’t a lot of comparable life changes out there. or maybe this is just therapeutic for me, that’s fine too.

i have two midterms next week i should be studying for. i should do that.

[popatochisssp]

Hi, I love all your headcannons about the boys in a relationship. But they got me wondering, since no relationship is totally perfect, what might be some negative traits the boys have, things they do, or just behaviors in general that could put a strain on the relationship or might need to be talked out to continue?

Oh, I’m glad you asked because you’re right, they’re not perfect at all! There’s lots of habits and quirks they all have, but that’s too subjective– a habit that might bug one person could be totally fine by another!– so we’ll go with our boys’ biggest flaws in a relationship! >:3

*Especially important for the ‘fell and horror universe boys, I’ll be taking a ‘fresh out of the Underground’ lens on this, not accounting for any potential Surface growth or therapy that could take place and ameliorate some of these things!*

Sans (Undertale): He is lazy. So, so lazy. Surely, this isn’t much of a surprise to anyone, but you can imagine how it could be an annoying trait in your partner– he’s never going to do a chore or go out of his way to take care of something for you, and he’s an all-around pro at ducking responsibility. It also means that if he doesn’t already care about something, trying to spark an investment from him is…kinda impossibly unlikely, which can definitely be frustrating for his s/o!

Papyrus (Undertale): It’s not intentional, but he has a tendency to be pushy. He’s enthusiastic and has some pretty firm convictions and so sometimes, entirely without meaning to, he’ll steamroll right over his s/o and what they might want. It can hurt his s/o’s feelings to be talked over and spoken for before they can put their two cents in, but it just doesn’t always occur to him that people might have perspectives different than his own. His s/o has to be able to assert themselves when they really don’t want to do something and aren’t just being playfully shy or stubborn about it, or they might end up peer-pressured into stuff a lot.

Sky (Underswap Sans): Do you like your personal space? Want some significant amounts of time by yourself? Then you’re going to struggle if you’re Sky’s s/o because he can get very clingy. It comes from a good place, he’s a very social guy and if his s/o is his favorite person, then of course their company is going to be his favorite, too! He wants to spend a ton of time with them, whether they’re doing something together or not, and he’s hard to shake with off-the-cuff excuses about why his s/o can’t hang out with him: he’ll know they’re lying and think that something might be wrong and then he’s definitely not going anywhere. If his s/o can’t figure out how to tell him, on a regular basis and without hurting his feelings, that they need space from him to decompress, they’re going to end up exhausted.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He’s stubborn. It’s rare for him to make firm judgments on something one way or the other, but once he has, that’s pretty much it. He’ll really dig his heels in if his s/o tries to change his mind, too, and it takes a long time and a lot of arguing about whatever it is to even get him to consider changing his opinion. For his s/o, it probably feels like they’re banging their head against a brick wall, like he’s not even listening to what they’re saying and they can very easily end up feeling disrespected by this immovable object of a skeleton.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): He’s too closed off. It’s self-protective–he’d be a shaking, emotional wreck after the Underground if he’d let just anybody in close enough to see him vulnerable and open himself up to getting hurt–but it can turn around and be a very painful, hurtful thing for his s/o to deal with. When he’s going through something, his first instinct is always to hide it until it blows over so his s/o never even knows he was struggling. They’ll undoubtedly catch hints from time to time that maybe Jasper needs support, but he always hesitates to let them in, and they can’t do anything as long as they’re stuck on the outside of his emotional walls. It’s a very bad feeling thinking your loved one doesn’t trust you enough to let you help and he’ll need a lot of time and love and trust to make even a little progress at this.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Another one that shouldn’t be surprising, but he’s arrogant. He has a pretty big ego and he never easily accepts it when he may have been wrong, blustering and convoluting until it seems like he was right all along– the equivalent of a cat falling off a counter and acting like they meant to do it. He may also condescend a lot to his s/o and fall into an Underground-developed habit of treating them as an underling or an accessory more than a loved one. It’s instinctive and would probably have kept them safe from opportunist monsters if they were back down there, but on the Surface it can get incredibly tiring and even hurtful for his s/o to cater to that kind of ego all the time. If he catches their patience running out and he sees them rolling their eyes or making a snarky comment in exasperation at his narcissism, well, he’s probably going to get upset about it and the two of them will have a fight. He has a lot of acclimating to do to this relatively peaceful world where relationships can be equal without also being a weakness.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): This guy’s the definition of ‘trust issues.’ He can be downright problematically invasive and probing about…pretty much everything, if given a reason to be. It’s not an s/o-specific thing, he’s like that with everybody, but his s/o will probably (and absolutely should) take issue with how little respect he has for privacy. It’s his lingering paranoia from the Underground keeping him constantly alert for backstabbers and betrayers, so if someone as close to him as his partner starts acting secretive around him, he has to investigate. It may be innocent, like a surprise party for his birthday or something, but until he finds out what’s up, there isn’t much that’s off the table: he’ll cyberstalk social media for information, discreetly follow them in real life if they go out unexpectedly, and if they leave their phone with him unattended and unlocked, he’s definitely skimming through some recent messages, just to be sure. He’s not a bad person, he just has some very bad (survival-based) habits. The only saving grace is that his s/o probably won’t find out he sometimes does this stuff because he’s careful, but that doesn’t make it cool and he won’t really stop until he truly, fully trusts his s/o–and that’s a long time coming after everything he’s been through.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Rus cannot have an argument to save his life. He’s not what you’d call a pacifist, not entirely accurately at least– he’s been in his fair share of fights Underground, after all, and he’d fight again if his life was on the line– but he doesn’t like conflict or anything resembling it. It sounds like a good thing on paper because his s/o automatically wins any disagreement that looks like it could turn into a fight, but it’s so terrible in practice for maintaining a healthy relationship. He’ll go along with anything his s/o wants to avoid the conflict, even if it might make him unhappy because he doesn’t want them to be upset at him. It’s also at least 90% conciliatory and if it was about a behavior of his, there’s a very high chance that nothing will actually change, but he’ll nod and agree and promise to do things differently just to keep the argument from happening and then…not, actually. The idea of a constructive or helpful argument is entirely foreign to him, those didn’t exist where he came from and he just wants things to be cool, he’ll say whatever he’s gotta say to make it be cool. His s/o can build up a lot of frustration and unhappiness from that if they can’t convince him to learn some better communication strategies.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Obviously, it’s not his fault, but he’s forgetful. He generally remembers the big stuff and he does better when something feels important as it’s happening, but as a rule his level of recall is hit or miss. He’s bad at remembering birthdays and other important dates and if he forgets to write a reminder to himself about it, he’s just not going to be there for whatever his s/o needed. It can be hard for an s/o who isn’t prepared to take on so much of the mental load in a relationship without much guarantee of help, especially because they can’t get mad at him for it, not in good conscience, anyway– he didn’t ask for the giant hole in his skull, he’d love a reliable memory as much as they would! He’ll do his best to retain as much as he can, but even with notes and reminders, a lot of things his s/o tells him just get lost to the void and that’s a hard thing to be okay with right away.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He’s…maybe a tad too flippant about things. It’s a defense mechanism he developed Underground, a sort of gallows humor that he relied on to keep his generally upbeat attitude when monsters had to resort to eating humans and each other to stay alive, and even that wasn’t sustainable and there was a very real possibility that his entire species could go extinct in a matter of years, if not months. It was dark times and he couldn’t let himself get invested in every little thing! …but it’s also probably a little disturbing for his s/o when he, say, breaks a bone and only uses a silly, made-up curse word like, “Oh, Sugarbeans, That’s Inconvenient, Isn’t It!” or they hear the extreme, casual frankness he’ll use to discuss even graphic gore and violence like it doesn’t faze him. It’s a little sociopathic, honestly, and his s/o will probably have a lot of moments where they just don’t know how they’re supposed to respond when they see this unnervingly light attitude in their otherwise loving, gentle partner.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand now I feel a little guilty for all this trash-talking of my boys, so expect another headcanon post soon-ish, pro bono– just like this one, but about their virtues in a relationship instead of just their vices.

They are good boys who would be delightful partners in spite of these pitfalls, I promise! XD

[headfulloffantasies]

Angel With a Shotgun

Chapter 15: King of Fools

AO3

Dean lay on the couch with a heap of books crushing him. Somewhere there was a clue to what the demons and angels had planned. Sam sighed every ten minutes or so at Bobby’s desk as he leafed through tomes of prophecy. Sam leaned back and stretched out his shoulders, rubbing at his sore neck. Dean underlined a passage in his book and threw the pencil at Sam’s head. It clipped Sam’s ear and bounced across the carpet.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam snapped.

“I’m bored.” Dean groaned. “If I have to read another entry on exorcisms, I’m going to stab my eyes out.”

“So, go do something, I’m working.”

Dean grumbled. He unearthed himself from his mountain of books. “Drink?”

“Water.”

“Spoilsport.”

Dean only took two steps before lightning slammed into him. Dean dropped to his knees. His skull was cracking open. Voices shrieked, screaming and tearing through him. The noise. It was killing him. He clutched at his ears. It did no good, the sounds were coming from inside his head.

Through the haze and the pain, Dean heard Sam groan.

“What’s happening?” Dean yelped.

“I don’t know,” Sam panted. “Angels.”

Dean grabbed onto one strand of voice and focused. “Virginia is under siege…” the voice hissed. “Rivers of blood…” Another voice reported. “Hundreds dead…”

After what felt like an eternity the volume decreased enough for Dean to pull himself back onto the couch. Sam pressed his forehead against the desk, hands clamped over his ears. Dean threw himself on the couch with a whine.

Bobby skidded into the room. “You boys okay?”

“It’s like the whole world is screaming inside my head,” Sam groaned.

“Like a Bon Jovi concert,” Dean agreed.

“I’ve got reports coming in from across the globe. Omens lighting up the world. Earthquakes, mass possessions, the whole lot,” Bobby declared.

“Why?” Dean asked. He was having a hard time caring when his head was about to pop open like a melon.

“I dunno,” Bobby shrugged. “But the demons are throwing a hell of a party.”

The voices stopped as suddenly as they started. Dean lifted his head to meet Sam’s bewildered gaze. A sledgehammer was still pounding in Dean’s skull, but at least his ears weren’t bleeding anymore.

Cas suddenly materialised in the center of the room. He swayed and stumbled.

“Cas!” Dean was up and at the angel’s side in an instant. Cas grabbed Dean’s arm. Dean yelped, fire racing through the spot of contact. Cas’s eyes rolled back and he fell deadweight against Dean.

“Cas!” Dean groaned under his weight. “Little help?”

Bobby and Sam helped Dean lay Cas out on the couch.

“I ain’t got an angel med kit anywhere. He’s just gonna have to sleep it off.” Bobby said gruffly.

Dean dropped into the armchair beside the couch. “I’ll stay with him.”

Bobby nodded. “I gotta follow up on some of these omens. Sam, come help me.” They hurried upstairs, leaving Dean alone with the unconscious angel.

Dean rubbed at the spot where Cas had latched onto him. It ached. He rolled up his sleeve, expecting a bruise to be forming.

“The hell?” Dean cried. A red, raw handprint burned into his bicep. In the light of the lamp, Dean inspected the inflamed skin on his bicep. Cas might as well have branded him.

“I’m sorry,” Cas’ rough voice ground through the room.

Dean jerked his head up. Cas’ blue eyes were glued on the handprint.

Dean scrambled to Cas’ side. “Are you okay?”

Sad eyes remained on Dean’s injury. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“What the hell is this, Cas?”

“Hellfire.” Cas said bluntly. “I went to Hell.”

Dean stared incredulously. “Why?”

“To find out what the demons are doing.”

“And?”

“Call your brother.” Cas said gravely.

“Sam! Bobby!”

They both came running. Everyone huddled around Cas on the couch as the angel pulled himself up to sitting. It was an awkward shuffle to accommodate Dean’s wings.

“Lucifer is dead.” Cas declared.

“Yay,” Dean waved limp jazz hands. Sam shot him an annoyed look.

“How do you kill the Devil?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure,” Cas shook his head. “Lucifer has been imprisoned in the Cage since the Garden. But every source confirms, he’s dead. The omens across the world are demons celebrating.”

“Good riddance, I say.” Bobby grumbled.

Cas was quiet for a moment. “But then why are the demons celebrating?”

A shiver passed over Dean.

“The angels have opened all communications,” Cas said. “That’s what you heard. Even human psychics should be able to hear it. Reports of bloodbaths and mass possessions. Massive earthquakes and storms.”

“So, what are the angels doing about it?” Sam demanded.

“Nothing.”

Sam straightened. “Nothing? Thousands of people are dying and the angels are doing nothing?”

“They are preoccupied,” Cas said carefully.

“With what?” Sam spat.

“Finding out how exactly the Devil was killed and why the demons think it is a good thing.”

“What did you find?” Dean asked, crossing his arms.

Cas sat up stiffly. “There is a small faction who were sent on secret mission. They’re here, in Sioux Falls.”

Fear dripped venom down Dean’s spine. “Not good. What do we do?”

“We stop them.” Cas turned his intense stare on him. “Whatever they have planned, it is focused here.”

Sam rolled his shoulders. “Are they here for us?”

“Possibly,” Cas admitted.

Sam turned to pace the room. Dean watched him, dread filling him unexpectedly. Dean searched out the source of the feeling. It wasn’t his. It was rolling off of Sam, lighting up their connection. Sam glanced up, and Dean caught his eye.

“You okay?” He asked silently.

Sam jerked a nod. His face was pale and sweaty.

“You don’t look good,” Dean mentally said.

“I’m fine,” Sam growled back through the link. He turned away, shearing the connection. Worry pinched Dean’s gut.

“Are the angels coming here to Sioux Falls?” Bobby asked, refocusing Dean’s attention.

“Not that I know of,” Cas answered. “The angels don’t know Sam and Dean are here. They wouldn’t know that the demons are here for you.”

Cas stood so suddenly that Dean lurched back. “I will scout out the demons.”

Dean blinked and Cas vanished. Dean blinked again and Cas reappeared three feet to the left of where he was before.

“They have converged in the basement of a house belonging to a Jody Mills.”

“Sheriff Jody Mills?” Bobby piped up.

Cas’ shrug telegraphed that he did not ask her profession but assumed it must be the woman of whom Bobby spoke.

“I know her,” Bobby said gravely. “We gotta do something.”

Cas nodded. “We do. Whatever the demons are planning is not good.”

“So, invasion plan?” Dean offered. “Cas and I can fly in. Sam and Bobby-,”

“I can’t,” Sam interrupted. Sweat dripped down his face.

Dean rounded on him. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I’m not feeling well.”

“Tough,” Dean growled.

“Dean,” Bobby’s hand landed on Dean’s shoulder.

Sam leaned hard against the wall for support. He slid down to sitting. A red smear followed his progress down the wall.

“Sam!” Dean was at his side in an instant. Sam lolled boneless. Dean pulled him away from the wall. Sam’s back was a mess of blood. He keened at Dean’s touch.

“His wings are trying to grow in.”

Sam shuddered. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Dean smoothed Sam’s sweaty hair from his face.

Cas spoke up. “We can’t delay finding the demons.”

Dean whirled on him, “We can’t leave Sam alone.”

“The demons won’t be here long,” Cas insisted.

“Then someone has to go to Sheriff Mills’ and someone has to stay with Sam.”

“No,” Sam protested. He shoved at Dean’s hands. “Leave me here. I’ll be fine. Dean got through this, so will I.”

Cas shifted his feet. Dean read the guilt and worry in the angel’s face. “What is it?”

“Sam will almost certainly have a more difficult time of it than Dean did. The demonic influence inside him will be battling against this angelic intervention.”

“What are you saying?” Dean’s hands shook. He clenched them tightly. “Are you saying he might die?”

Cas said nothing. Ice ran down Dean’s shoulders. His feathers ruffled in agitation.

“I’ll stay,” Bobby said. He crossed his arms. “I’m the weakest link here, being human and all. I’ll make sure Sam’s okay.”

Cas nodded. “I need to prepare a few things. Be ready to leave.”

Dean turned back to Sam. Sam’s breaths were short, forced out between clenched teeth.

“Up you get,” Dean slung Sam’s arm over his shoulder. Sam whined at the contact. Bobby took Sam’s other arm and they half carried Sam up to his room. They were almost at the bed when Sam went limp, the tension dropping from his muscles. Dean and Bobby stumbled under the sudden deadweight.

“He’s alright,” Bobby assured Dean’s flash of panic. “He’s just passed out. Best thing for him right now. He’s in for a hell of a ride.”

They laid Sam down. He was so pale, he looked like the ghosts Dean and Sam hunted.

“Bobby,” Dean choked. Tears burned the back of his throat. “If he doesn’t make it-,”

“I know, me too,” Bobby said gently.

Dean shook his head. “I mean it. If he doesn’t make it, I’ll drive myself off a cliff. I’m not joking.”

Bobby squeezed his shoulder. The simple connection grounded Dean’s churning emotions. He dragged in a ragged breath. “I’ve got to get ready. Let me know if he wakes up. I want to say goodbye.”

Cas waited at the base of the stairs with Dean’s hunting bag over his shoulder.

Cas’ intense gaze met Dean’s tear stained eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Dean?”

“Do we have a choice?” Dean brushed passed him. “Let’s go.”

***

The sun had dropped below the horizon when they arrived in town. Jody Mills’ house was dark. Dean and Cas went around the back, slinking through the shadows to her back door. Dean picked the lock while Cas kept watch and then they were inside.

The house was silent as a grave. The streetlight outside illuminated an empty kitchen and an abandoned living room. A creak echoed from the door in the corner of the kitchen. Dean assumed it went to the basement.

“There are four demons. Down there,” Cas nodded to the door.

“Then we’ll have to draw them out, won’t we,” Dean picked up his duffle. They took several minutes of tense silence to prepare for the demons.

When they were ready, Dean placed a hand on the basement doorknob.

“Stay sharp,” Dean whispered. He ripped the door open. A flight of stairs descended into darkness. Dean discharged two salt rounds into the dark. The shotgun blast illuminated an unfinished basement, the walls bare plaster and the floor cement. Nothing else was visible in those short shots.

A scuttling noise followed, like rat claws scratching over wood. A figure hurled itself out of the dark, aiming for Dean’s face. He lifted he shotgun too late. It barreling into him and they went spinning to the ground, the gun flying from Dean’s reach. Cas was there in an instant, lifting the demon and slamming the Demon Knife into its neck. It sparked and died. Cas tossed the body aside like a ragdoll.

Another demon dove from the stairwell. Cas swiftly dispatched it while Dean got to his feet. A third demon slammed into Dean’s back. They crashed together into the fridge. Dean grunted and shoved the demon aside. It circled him like a lion. Dean panted, trapped between the fridge and the demon. The demon was wearing the body of a woman with long brown hair and a mean smirk.

“Hiya, Dean,” she simpered. “Where’s Sammy?”

She attacked, clawing at Dean’s wings. He yelped as she tore great handfuls of feathers out by the root. He gave a mighty flap of the wings, sending the demon flying into the living room. Dean followed. She leapt, claws at the ready. Dean hurled the demon away from him. She landed hard on her side on the area rug. She jumped up, stalking straight at Dean with teeth bared. She halted so abruptly it was if she’d hit a wall. Her snarl sagged in confusion as she struggled to step forward. Dean grinned and toed back the edge of the rug. Red paint winked on the floorboards.

“A demon trap, how mundane,” the demon drawled.

“Hey, it works,” Dean shrugged.

           A flash of fiery light announced the finish of Cas’ fight with the last demon. He marched into the living room, wiping the Demon Knife on the tail of his trench coat. He handed Dean the blade and stepped to the border of the trap.

“Now, you will tell us what you have planned, Demon.”

           “Meg,” the demon spat. “I have a name, just like you Castiel.”

           “And you’re going with Meg?” Dean smirked.

           Meg lifted her chin. “It’s short for Megareth, Duke of Hell.”

           “Hell has royalty?”

           “Dean,” Cas steered them back on topic. “Meg, you will tell us what the demons have planned.”

           “Absolutely, sugar,” Meg giggled. “We’re going to win the war.”

           “War?” Dean frowned.

           “The war between Heaven and Hell. Our side has just been handed the trump card, baby. There’s no way for us to lose.”

           “Explain yourself,” Cas commanded.

Meg prowled the edges of the demon trap. Dean was struck with the image of a cat stalking the confines of its cage. And he was the mouse lucky enough to be on the other side of the bars.  

“Our Father, Lucifer, spoke to us before he died. Every demon, from Pandemonium to Illinois heard his voice.”

“What did he say?” Cas growled.

“He told us how to defeat the angels. The Throne of Hell must have a King.”

“A King?”

Meg nodded, the self-satisfied smile never leaving her lips. “Lucifer was King. He was an angel fallen past the depths of demons. We need a new king. The Throne of Hell can be unlocked only by the King of Hell.”

“How do you pick a King of all Douchebags?” Dean asked.

Meg tutted. “Hell is having tryouts. Our own Olympics, as it were.”

“Stop stalling,” Cas snapped. “Get to the point.”

“What, you don’t like a little foreplay?” Meg giggled. “I guess it’s true what they say; angels are no fun.”

“Lucifer is dead.” Meg continued, “But he left instructions. How to make a new king, step by step.”

“Why don’t you just elect a demon and be done with it?” Dean sassed.

Meg hummed. “Demons are… flawed. We were made in the image our creator when he was at his weakest.”

“How do you make a demon? A cake mix and a spoonful of murder?” Dean smirked, but his heart raced faster the longer the conversation dragged out. His mind kept flying back to Sam’s pale face at home.

Meg chuckled. “We were all human souls once, did you know that? Lucifer tortured us in hell, ripped the humanity from our souls, and whatever was left he gave life.”

“How does that make you flawed? Besides the obvious?”

“You kill witches all the time, Dean.” Meg admonished. “Haven’t you learned anything from them? Intention is everything. We were made as an act of spite. We can never be anything but a blight against Heaven. But Lucifer… he was made to lead and be worshiped. He was made in the light. Just like you and Sam.”

Dean’s stomach twisted. “No.”

She laughed. “Oh yes, ducky! We chose you a long time ago. One of you boys was always going to be King.”

Dean growled. “We would never.”

“Don’t look so scared, sugar. It’s not you.” Meg’s eyes flickered black. “We picked Sam.”

“No.” Dean was going to be sick.

“Yes.” Meg clapped her hands in glee. “It already began years ago. Lilith made sure of it before your bastard daddy sent her to the pit.”

“What?”

“I believe you called her Ms. Lyle. Sammy drank up the demon blood Lilith fed him like a good little boy. And then it was done. All we had to do was wait while the blood sat in him, dormant but not dead. Waiting to start the process.”

Cas’ hand landed on Dean’s shoulder. “We need to get back to Sam, now.”

Meg’s sharp laugh turned Dean’s stomach to lead. “You’re too late,” she cackled. “We already have him. Your little brother is riding the Highway to Hell. Why do you think I’m here? I’m the decoy.”

“And now you’re dead,” Dean stepped into the trap and thrust the Demon Blade between Meg’s ribs. She gasped, her nails scraping at Dean’s shoulders. Golden fire sparked in her core and she fell limp. Dean was already crossing the doorway before her body hit the ground.

“Dean,” Cas called out.

“Hurry up,” Dean snarled.

Cas caught his arm. Dean whirled, his fist raised to strike. But they weren’t in Jody Mills’ house anymore. A crater of fire surrounded them.

“Cas, where are we?” Dean gasped.

“I don’t understand,” Cas spun in a circle. “This is supposed to be Singer Salvage, but-,” A flash of light enveloped Cas. Dean threw up his arms and slammed his eyes shut. When he blinked them open, Cas was gone.

Dean whipped around, searching for anything that made sense. A blackened husk smoldered, the bones of a house barely standing. Small fires burned all around, smoke and ash wafting up into the night.

Something landed on Dean’s back. He hit the ground, gravel splitting his chin. Dean threw an elbow. The weight knocked aside. Dean scrambled up. A bloody demon spit at him. Half its face was missing, flesh burned and raw. Black eyes rolled in agony.

Dean unsheathed the Demon Knife and lunged. The demon was fast, dodging his strike. A soot stained jacket flung in ribbons behind it like a pair of scorched wings.

It leaped at Dean and impaled itself on his knife. The fire burning through its corpse was lost in the inferno around them.

Panting, Dean suddenly recognized the shape of the trash piles burning behind the house. The scrapyard. This was home.

“Sam!” The scream tore itself from Dean’s very soul. His legs collapsed under him. “No, please, no.”

The fire and smoke blurred as tears streamed down his face. Dean hardly noticed them. His breaths shuddered in his chest. Sam couldn’t be in the remains of the house. If it was true, Dean might a well curl up here and die.

He was on his feet and running without even thinking it.

           Dean pushed through the remnants of the crumbling front door. Embers glowed all over the floor. The fridge and the oven were still mostly intact, black as coal. Dean didn’t notice. He was numb as ice. He shoved into the living room, ignoring the fluttering bits of ash, the remains of Bobby’s library of lore. The stairs groaned under Dean’s weight. He had to get to Sam’s room. He had to see.

           The last four steps were gone, leaving a plunging hole all the way to the foundation. Dean opened his wings and jumped. He crashed into the landing, ignoring the heat searing through his jacket. He shoved himself up, numb to the blistering pain in his palms.

           Sam’s room was at the end of the hallway. It seemed to stretch forever as Dean’s heart rattled. There was something dark washing over him. If Sam was dead, Dean would hunt to the ends of Hell itself for Meg and he would rip her worthless demonic soul to shreds. He would skin her alive and dump what was left of her in the lake of sulphur. And then he would do the same to every other piece of hell-trash he could find. Every last demon would feel the weight of Dean Winchester’s pain.

           Dean pushed Sam’s door open. The room was relatively intact, compared to the rest of the house. The sheets on the bed were only smoke darkened, not singed. Spots of blood stood out starkly in the half light.

           Dean sagged against the end of the bed. His throat constricted and Dean choked. A horrific wheezing gurgled from his lips. He was crying again. Sobbing into his hands. He felt more than saw the presence in the room with him. Dean looked into blue eyes and then everything went black as Hell.

<Previous    Next>>

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Bucky is a janitor working at MIT, he finds Tony holed up in the lab, sick.

Night shift (1 of 2)

Bucky didn't hate his job. There were just a few things that really annoyed him. Like when he had to take over a shift from his colleague unexpectedly and therefore stay longer than usual to clean out the trash cans in the laboratories. At least the labs were almost deserted this late, but unsurprisingly even the brightest of students still made a mess and how they weren't able to put their trash into the trash can instead of right next to it surprised Bucky time and time again. Unsurprising was also the huge amount of beer cans hidden behind a staircase like nobody would find them there. Yeah right, somebody had to pick them up one by one and clean the spilled beer off the floor. Why couldn't they party outside then at least Bucky wouldn't have to scrub the floor.

Bucky was almost done with his round and he only had a few trash cans to empty in the engineering department, which had one advantage that he didn't have the risk of finding some hazardous material in the bins like in the bio or chem departments.  He was ready to call it a day and get home, take off his prosthesis, rub his sore muscles and relax with his cat but apparently his prosthetic arm had other thoughts and decided to clock out early with an unpleasant crack and a clank and then a tiny plink as a screw dropped out of Bucky's sleeve and onto the floor right before the trash can he had been in the process of emptying into his cart followed suit.

His left arm was dangling awkwardly from the elbow joint and Bucky cursed. It wasn't the first time this had happened, he knew that particular screw became loose after a long day at work but he usually tightened it after the work at home and everything was fine. The extra work must have messed it up more than he thought and now the screw was lost under a pile of soda cans, abandoned term paper drafts and granola bar wrappers. And right at the end of his workday too. This was not Bucky's day.

(Watch out for the break!)

After a thorough dig through the trash Bucky found the tiny screw but he soon realized he couldn't do anything with it because he didn't have any tools with him, which he usually kept in his cart, but since this was his colleague's section of campus this was also not his cart and of course his backpack where he kept a small multitool was in the janitors' office in his locker, which was all the way across campus.

There had to be another way. Bucky searched the cart he had but came up with nothing except grease and gunk from spillovers, expected from a cart for trash collecting. Bucky wiped his hand and sat down on the floor and pulled his malfunctioning arm into his lap. He mentally already prepared himself for the walk back to the office. It would add another half an hour to his shift at least and that didn't include tidying the mess he had made spilling the trash and then rummaging through it.

Except he was in the damn engineering department of the best university in the whole country, he'd be damned if he couldn't find a fucking screwdriver around here. He had the keys to all the labs after all and so Bucky got up, tugged his unresponsive left hand into his jacket pocket and started to look around. A few students were still running experiments here and there and he didn't want to bother them, most of them weren't too fond of the cleaning staff and had no hesitation to show it. Bucky looked for an empty lab and soon found one that was dark and deserted. To his surprise, it was unlocked but that wasn't too uncommon, it's the students' problem if their research or experiments get stolen by their classmates, not Bucky's.

He didn't bother turning on the lights, the dim lights from various apparatuses and the monitors that had been left on was enough to guide him around and he really just wanted to find a toolbox and take it with him so he could fix his arm in peace, he didn't want to get caught tinkering in the lab.

A noise made him perk up from where he had been looking through the lower shelves of some cupboards, he had thought he was alone in the lab but that had suspiciously sounded like...sniffling. He got up and walked around the lab tables and sure enough hidden behind some futuristic looking contraption was a student sleeping on his laptop surrounded by energy drink cans both empty and full. Now that Bucky got closer he could clearly hear the soft coughs the other made in his sleep.

A peak on the screen confirmed Bucky's guess that the guy wanted to pull an all-nighter to finish a paper. The title read "Using deep neural networks and sparse autoencoders for high-level feature generation in artificial intelligence" and he had been typing "ffffffff" with his left ear for 159 pages.

Bucky gently nudged his shoulder.

The guy startled awake, leaving a "fffffgjhkkkkkk" on the screen and a very visible keyboard imprint on his cheek before he doubled over into a violent coughing fit.

"Woah, there." Bucky rubbed his back and after several long minutes the coughing turned into wheezing and the guy was able to compose himself, grab an open energy drink and down it in one go after which he took a few long-ish breaths and finally looked up.  He first noticed his messed up document and cursed, then he noticed Bucky standing next to him.

"I'm allowed to be here." He coughed again and a shiver ran through his body. "You can't throw me out, no matter how good looking you are."

"Not really concerned whether you're allowed in here or not, buddy. You look like death warmed over, that's what concerns me." It was true, the guy looked horrible. His skin was paler than it should have been in the blue lighting from the laptop screen and he had deep circle under his eyes, his hair was a mess and he looked like he was going to cough his lungs out again any second. Bucky had also felt how hot the guy was when he had touched his back, he was definitely feverish. "You should be in bed with some Nyquil."

The guy waved at him and turned to his laptop. "'M fine. I need to finish the paper." He moved to open up another can of energy drink but he seemed he had neither the fine motor control nor the strength to do so. "Fuck." He dropped the can on the table and it rolled away knocking over other cans until it came to a rest against a pile of books.

"I came in here looking for something but I'm not going to leave you in that state," Bucky said. "Let me make you a tea or something, I know you folks always got a water kettle hidden somewhere, you always do."

The other swayed slightly, his eyes focusing and unfocusing on the screen in front of him, then he nodded. "Coffee."

Bucky rolled his eyes. At least it was a warm beverage. "Where?" He asked and then went to the corner of the lab the guy nodded towards. The water kettle definitely looked like it had been tampered with and Bucky hoped it wouldn't explode as he set it up. He looked through the cupboard and found several open packages of instant coffee powder as well as a sizeable stash of cup noodles. He prepared both which was tedious with only one hand available and it also meant he had to walk twice after he had finished both the coffee and the cup noodles but the guy looked grateful when he set both in front of him.

"Thanks." He mumbled as he drew in a long waft of coffee aroma, both hands around the mug. "Are you a student here too? Can't be, I'd remember someone as hot as you." The guy asked and Bucky had a to laugh a little.

"Do I look like a student?" He gestured to himself and the other concentrated really hard for a moment before he recognized the janitor uniform Bucky was wearing and with some effort, he squinted at his name tag.

"J. Barnes. So, Mr. Barnes, you don't look like the grumpy guy that usually mopes around here and tries to kick us out?"

Bucky groaned. "Please, I'm Bucky. I'm not old enough to be Mr.ed by college students. I took over a shift from a colleague. Anyway, I'll leave you to your paper, but please don't kill yourself with those energy drinks. I'm not paid enough to clean up a dead body."

Bucky turned to leave, he would need to find a toolkit elsewhere or just swallow the bitter pill and walk to the office, he already wasted a lot of time anyway it mattered little if he wasted more.

"I'm Tony." The student behind him suddenly said. "Maybe I can help you."

Bucky stopped and turned around. "Help with what?"

"You were looking for something." Tony wrapped his arms around himself and sneezed. "And if my deductions are right, there is something wrong with your prosthesis."

Bucky's mouth dropped open for a moment before he composed himself again. "How did you know?"

Tony shrugged, then grinned. "There was talk going around that one of the janitors not only looked incredibly hot but also had a bad-ass metal arm, a Hammer prototype as the rumors go, and you haven't used your left arm at all while preparing the coffee and cup noodles, thanks again by the way. So..." He trailed off and then gestured between them when Bucky didn't say anything. "Engineering problem," he pointed to Bucky, "genius engineering student." He gestured to all of himself. "Come on, get out of that jacket and show me."

Bucky was still too perplexed to say anything.

"I promise I won't steal any tech secrets in case you had to sign an NDA or something, not that Hammer has anything worthwhile to steal." Tony laughed.

Bucky couldn't believe his luck, this guy really was something and so he shrugged out of his jacket and fumbled it off his useless left arm. "Alright, I lost this screw earlier when I lifted a trash can and then my arm just collapsed and let's just say it wasn't a pretty sight and I have to do some additional overtime on top of the stuff I'm already dealing with." Bucky pulled out the tiny screw from his pocket and put it on the table. Tony pushed his books and the laptop aside, causing a bunch of empty cans to tumble to the ground which he didn't seem to care about. He blew his nose and motioned for Bucky to come closer.

"There's gotta be a chair around here, you don't need to stand around."

Bucky settled on one of the other chairs and placed his arm on the desk in front of Tony. "You know if you just give me a screwdriver I can do this myself. I did it a few times already, that thing just comes lose all the time."

"Oh, a recurring problem, interesting. Did you report that?"  Under a few coughs, Tony rolled his chair around and collected a small case from the table that has the futuristic looking apparatus on it.

"Do you know how hard it is to get decent customer support these days? Also, I want to keep the arm and I kinda have a feeling that if I tell them it keeps falling apart on me they will find a new person missing a left arm and give it to them instead."

"Ah... seems like a Hammer thing to do." Tony opened up the case and pulled out a few tiny tools, much more delicate than what Bucky used to use.

"You seem to know a lot about Hammer Industries."

Still sniffling Tony started running his fingers up and down the metal plates on the arm. "Comes with the business... engineering and stuff."

"The screw goes in here." Bucky pointed to the tiny hole at his elbow.

"Yeah I know, but that won't fix your problem of it coming lose all the time now will it?"

Bucky looked flabbergasted and Tony. "You want to repair the whole thing? Can you do that?"

"Can I? Of course, I caaaa- ahchoo" Tony sneezed violently but had the decency to move his face into the crook of his elbow. "That is if I don't die first. Man, this flue is killing me."

"You need to get into bed ASAP."

"Yeah yeah, after this and then the paper and then I need to work on the semester project and then maybe." Tony took one of the tools and inserted it in between the plating and wriggled it around. Bucky got a little scared, but Tony looked like he knew what he was doing.

The metal plate suddenly popped open and Bucky blanched. "Is that supposed to happen?"

"Yep, perfectly normal. It's an access hatch." Tony used a small flashlight to have a better look and poked around in the innards of the arm with a little brush. "You got some gunk in there, aren't you cleaning this regularly?"

"Uh.."

"I guess not. I'll do some rudimentary cleaning but I think you might have to come back so I can get everything polished and oiled. Didn't you notice some other malfunctions? Like loss of motor control?"

Bucky thought about it for a moment. "I guess hand movements get a bit janky sometimes, but I could deal with it. What do you mean I have to come back?"

Tony shrugged. "Can't spend 3 hours doing maintenance when I have to work on a paper too. Okay, see, here's the problem." Tony shone the light into the inner elbow and Bucky had to squint a little to see what he meant. There was a tiny nut stuck in between two cables.

"That's what's supposed to hold the screw." Tony picked it up with a pair of tweezers and then wriggled it into the innards of the elbow, with his other hand he replaced the screw. "That should hold it for longer than a day, but it's still not ideal if it came off once it's going to come off again. This is a fundamental flaw in the design, who allowed this to be tested on humans. It could have caused a lot more damage than just some scattered trash. Imagine if you were carrying something more valuable." Tony huffed. "Incompetent fumblers, all of them."

Without a problem Tony replaced the plate he had removed and Bucky was able to move his arm again. He tested the elbow joint a few times and opened and closed his hand too, everything felt a lot smoother all of a sudden. He hadn't even noticed that the arm was getting less responsive over time, he had just gotten used to it.

"Amazing, I don't know how to thank you." Bucky could hug the guy. He had saved him so much trouble by fixing his arm, but Tony waved him off.

"It was nothing and you already did enough for me." Tony put his tools away and started to devour the almost forgotten cup noodles, which even from Bucky's point of view looked extremely mushy. "I meant it though," Tony said in between slurps and sniffling, "you can come back anytime. I'm here almost every day or night, depending on your perspective." He turned to his laptop and started holding down backspace. "And I'll probably be here all night tonight." He signed and then started coughing again.

Bucky frowned, Tony was sick and he had really come to like the guy and cared for him. "Do you need to finish the paper tonight?"

Tony nodded then rolled his eyes backward and made a grimace before sneezing violently and this time he wasn't so smart to cover his nose and he sneezed right onto the screen of his laptop. Both men made a disgusted noise at the sight.

"I guess I could write an email and ask for a few days more, the professor likes me I think, likes my genius in any case." Tony sniffled pitifully and turned to Bucky, his eyes were watery from all the sneezing and coughing. "You think I should do that?"

"Yes! You probably should have done that hours ago." Bucky said adamantly, but Tony managed a small smile.

"But then you wouldn't have met me." He wriggled his eyebrows in what probably should have been a seductive fashionif it hadn't been interrupted by another sneeze. "You want to know what I'm working on down here, Chappie?"

Bucky didn't know what that had anything to do with it but he was curious what Tony was doing down here. "Yeah, sure, if you write that email after that. Kinda don't want to lose my new-found mechanic to the common cold." Bucky scooted a little closer, assuming Tony wanted to show him something on his laptop. "I'm not that smart though, so maybe you need to dumb it down."

Tony just grinned and pressed a few buttons and a small application popped up with the letters J.A.R.V.I.S in white written over a dark blue background, the icon underneath reminded Bucky of HAL9000 only the "eye" was a swirl of blue instead of menacing red.

"Jarvis?" Tony said.

"Yes, Sir?" A distinctively British voice answered from the laptop. Bucky's eyes went wide.

"Please write an email to Professor Stane explaining to him why I need a few more days to finish the paper for his class. Choose an apologetic tone."

"Of course, Sir, how many details do you want me to include?" The voice asked confidently.

"Nothing embarrassing."

"I will not include your close call with death then."

Tony rolled his eyes. "He's so sassy," he whispered to Bucky.

"I have composed a message to Professor Stane, Sir."

"Display it." The email program opened up and showed the formulated message, Bucky was impressed, it already had the address filled out and when he quickly read it he found it included all formalities. He hadn't expected that. He really hadn't known what to expect.

Tony read through the email as well and with a 'Send it' command it disappeared and the email program closed on its own. The whole progress only took a few seconds and Tony hadn't touched the keyboard once.

"Jarvis is an AI I developed. He's going to help me with research and taking over some boring tasks like scheduling or writing emails." Tony gestured to the computer. "What do you think?"

"Holy shit, that was amazing. He's like a real person!" Bucky was really impressed. "I mean, I know about Siri and Alexa but that's a whole step above that."

Tony tsked. "Forget these amateur AI's. I am aiming to have a real personal assistant who thinks independently and actually does work for me. With those others, you need to spend more time on maintenance than you actually save by using them." He shrugged and closed the document with his paper, then shut his laptop down and yawned. "I guess I'm done for tonight."

That reminded Bucky of his own night which wasn't going to come to an end until he cleaned up the mess outside and he groaned "I still have to work to do." He got up and pulled his jacket back on. "I better get going, I hope you get home alright and get better soon. Thanks again for fixing my arm."

"Hey, no problem, it was my pleasure, it's not every day I get to work on a prosthesis prototype." Tony flashed him a dazzling grin, he had relaxed now that the pressure of finishing a paper was gone. Bucky hadn't noticed how handsome the guy was and yeah, maybe he was going to come back not only for some additional maintenance on the arm. He really liked the guy.

They said their good-byes and Bucky returned to the pile of trash in the hallway which unsurprisingly hadn't changed at all, but Bucky finished the work quickly with two arms available and was able to call it a day, or a night rather, after half an hour and go home.

[kaoru-takaida]

FFXV Comrades Fanfiction

*SPOILER ALERT*

If you have played Final Fantasy XV and/or watched the Kingsglaive movie that accompanies it, and completed the Prompto DLC, read at your own risk. There are major spoilers in here... So don't say I didn't warn you...

Chapter Two

Lumine reaches up to the door, ready to knock. But she hesitates. She wasn't sure if this was such a great idea. She'd always resigned herself to keeping to herself. But something in Prompto negated that, much to her surprise. Though, she's sure that no one would blame her for her thinking. She looks down at the bottle of wine in her hands. Was this too much for a "hang out between friends" kind of thing? The only friends she'd ever had was the other Glaives. Most notably Sadda, Tobul, and Luca.

But she sighs. Composing herself, and knocking finally. "Oh! Sorry! Hold on a sec!" Prompto's voice calls. She waits a moment. Her mind telling her to turn around and leave. The door opens and a winded Prompto is there. He smiles up at her. "Sorry about that... Was just, um... " He laughs nervously. "Tidying up?" He steps aside. "Come on in."

She cautiously steps in and immediately takes notice at how unexpectedly clean it was. And it didn't actually even smell like a man's apartment. Then again, he'd said he'd just tidied up. So she'll have to catch him on a day he isn't prepared. She instantly shakes the thought from her head and turns to him as he closes the door. "I brought some wine. I'm not sure if you drink wine or not. But I guess a perk of all this chaos is the fact we can drink and no body will be calling the cops."

They both give an awkward laugh and Lumine mentally slaps herself. Prompto smiles, taking the bottle of wine as she hands it over. "Thanks. I'll get some glasses." Lumine pauses a second before cocking an eyebrow.

"Prompto. I-Is something burning?" She asks.

He yelps before dashing into the kitchenette. "Gah! No no no!" She strides over and sees Prompto in a flurry. He hurriedly tries to save the food on the stove. She smiles to herself and laughs a bit. Just as she does, the smoke detector starts to alarm. "Ah!"

Lumine strides over to the window. She opens it and makes her way to the kitchenette. She grabs a wash cloth from the counter and waves it in the air, trying to direct the smoke to the window. Lumine looks to Prompto, and points to the pan of sauce in his hands. "Bring that to the window, the alarm should shut off soon."

He rushes it over and sets it on the window sill. He himself starts waving a rag in the air to break up the smoke. After a few seconds, the alarm stops and they both sigh in relief, sitting on the floor next to the window and fire escape. "That was... not what I expected." He says, fussing with his hair a bit, nervousness in his voice.

Lumine laughs, tossing the wash cloth at him. "Well, to be honest, that's about what I expected." She teases. He scoffs, throwing both wash clothes back at her. They take a second before they both start laughing. She looks at the sauce. "It might have just been the pan burning. So the sauce may still be fine." Lumine stands up. She looks over as she sees a colander filled with thin noodles on the counter. Lumine laughs again. "Do you need anymore help?"

Prompto shakes his head. "Nah. Thanks, though." He stands up, taking the pan from the window and to the kitchen. She sits down at the counter, watching as he tries to save his meal. Not 15 minutes later, they're eating spaghetti. "So? How's it taste?"

Lumine smiles. "Not burnt if that's what you're wondering." Prompto laughs. A mix of pride, embarrassment, and something she thinks is nervousness. Lumine nods. "Color me impressed, Mr. Argentum. Your meal doesn't suck."

Prompto laughs again. "Wow. Such high praise. You shouldn't have." He picks at his food. "I'm not as good a cook as Iggy. But I have my moments."

Lumine takes a drink of wine. "Honestly, I half expected to be eating Cup Noodles right now." Lumine says. Prompto nods. "But I'm glad you proved me wrong."

"Yeah, well. It was tempting." He tells her. "But I thought this would be way better." Prompto points his fork at her. "But if you tell Gladio that I said something was better than Cup Noodles, I will have no choice but to declare you as my enemy. Capisce?"

She gives him a taunting smile. Lumine folds her hands, resting her elbows on the table and setting her chin on her fingers. "Prompto Argentum? As my enemy? I can't have that. I guess your secret is safe with me." They both laugh.

He sighs before looking back at Lumine. "Speaking of Gladio, he tells me that you were very adamant about beating us." He points his fork at her, again. "Don't think that we'll hold back when you face all three of us at the same time!"

She scoffs. "There's no way I'm facing all three of you at once..." Lumine tells him. "That's a one way ticket to losing... especially since all of you have clearly gotten stronger since I faced each of you last." She takes another sip of the wine. "Especially against Ignis... He won't give me one second to think."

Prompto thinks a moment. "Oh yeah, he told me to tell you something about that." Lumine looks over at him, setting her glass down and eyebrows up in curiosity. He closes his eyes before pointing up at the ceiling in a scolding manner. "'You're stance is too close together.'" He begins, in a goofy and terrible accent similar to Ignis. "'You shouldn't depend solely on your warping capabilities, it makes you predictable. And what is with your obsession with your offensive spells? You should only use those when you're clearly in a pinch. You have a long way to go before you can be considered an expert...'" Prompto smiles. "I think-." He looks over at a very annoyed looking Lumine who's squeezing the cloth napkin in her right hand with a death grip. Her eyebrow twitches a bit. "... that's it..." He finishes, swallowing hard.

She clenchs her teeth. "That bastard..." she murmers. Prompto laughs. She sighs to herself. "Didn't think I had so many things wrong in combat... Next time, I'll just have to beat the cockiness outta him..."

Prompto cocks an eyebrow. "Good luck with that. Mind if I watch?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Have a front row seat with some popcorn." Lumine says, in a cocky stuppor. They both laugh again. She takes a second before closing her eyes and sighing. "All joking aside..." Lumine begins. "Thank you for inviting me over." She looks into her wine glass. "I... I don't usually do well, making friends and all." She tells him.

He purses his lips a bit. "Can I ask why that is?" Prompto asks. "I mean, when we met, you were hesitant to even give me just your name." Prompto takes a drink of his wine now. "It's totally cool if you don't wanna answer. I get it." He says. He points his thumb at himself. "I was like that too when I was a kid. Then I met Noct and everyone else." He smiles. "Now I cherish every friendship. But you have to let people in to make friendships."

"Well..." She clears her throat. "I take a big risk, letting people in. I don't allow too many people to get close. And it's all thanks to my Imperial... heritage..." She inhales. "The mention of my birthplace usually is a turn off. Even in these confusing times. People still hate me for being a Niff. Maybe it's for the best-."

"That's not true!" Prompto says, dropping his fork angrily so that it clinks against the plate, making Lumine shudder at the sudden motion. He holds his hands up showing that he's not going to do it again. "Being from Nifilheim doesn't make you who you are. You're a Lucian. Just like all of us." He tells her. "Just like me..." He says, seeming a bit sad at the last part.

Lumine blinks, keeping that same shocked look on her face. Before she exhales a long breath. "Thank you. I'm glad you think that way." She tells him. But a tear slips from her eye. She wipes it quickly though. Prompto nods once, the corners of his mouth trying to smile. But he can't bring himself to do it.

Prompto watches as Lumine shifts in her sleep on the couch. He laughs to himself, grabbing a folded blanket from the cupboard. He covers her and pulls the blanket over her shoulders. "I told you you had too much to drink." He murmers. Prompto watches a second, Lumine smiling in her sleep for a few seconds. She looks younger when she's asleep. If she hadn't had the tattoos and the scars, a person would think her a preteen or teenager. Given, he was only a few months older than her. He steps out onto the fire escape and looks out into the lit city. He looks up at the night sky. "Hey, Noct." He says. "You know, she reminds me a lot of you." He smiles and looks down at his hands on the rail. "She puts the weight of the world on her shoulders as a Glaive. And..." He scoffs. "She's not even from Lucis. And she cares about it like she was born here. She cared about your father. And-and..." He sighs, thinking it's ridiculous, him talking as if Noctis were right there with him. "... about you..." He looks back up at the sky. "I guess she and I have more in common than we thought." He smiles, pursing his lips before guffawing softly. "Who'da thunk?"

In The living room, on the couch, Lumine blinks once, a very unsettling look on her face. She'd heard everything... (He's wrong...) She thinks to herself, a pained expression taking over. (We do have things in common. But one thing heavily outweighs all of those...) She closes her eyes and snuggles into the couch a bit more. (I'm... the only one of my kind left. I'm...) She drifts back to sleep, a tear rolling down her cheek. (... all alone. And a monster...)

[tonystarktogo]

destined to fall

For @ketlingr, @theboringprincess, @windcalling and of course everyone else who’s interested!

This is just little old ReRe, bringing some Stuckony goodness to your dash. Includes insecure Angel!Tony, flirty Demon!Steve and Teasing Human!Bucky, angst and no proper communication whatsoever. You’re welcome and please don’t hate me.

Steve Rogers is quite possibly the most twisted, corrupted, genuinely evil guy Tony has ever had the pleasure to meet. 

And by ‘evil’ he doesn’t just mean wearing shirts so tight they should be illegal, pulling off moves on the dance floor that make Tony swear he can literally see the pure sin rolling off the man’s skin and flirting relentlessly with Tony, even though he already has a boyfriend. An unfairly hot, sarcastic boyfriend who looks far too good in leather jackets to be left unsupervised, damn it. 

No, Tony means the literal evil as well. Because naturally the first person he falls for after his breakup with Pepper just had to be a demon. Really, Tony doesn’t even know why Rhodey was surprised when he’d confessed his crush--not that he had to, with the way it had been weighing on his mind Rhodey must have felt it from miles away. If anything it’s a miracle that this is the first time Tony has fallen for one. His luck was bound to run out eventually.

“Hey there, butterfly,” Steve’s husky voice interrupts, successfully bringing Tony’s internal self-berating to a crashing halt.

He glares up at the other man--and it’s so incredibly hot irritating, the way Steve’s at least a head taller than him and looks like he could break Tony in half with his pinky (he couldn’t), how is this even fair?--though going by the smug expression he gets in return, it does little to hide his burning cheeks. The traitors.

[Story continues under the cut. Or at least it should. With any luck, tumblr will be in a good mood when you see this and it’ll work.]

“Will you stop with that stupid nickname?” Tony hisses between clenched teeth. He tries not to feel bad when Steve sends him a mock-hurt look in return, and the fact that he fails is even more irritating than the ridiculously handsome annoying demon in front of him.

“You don’t like it?” Steve theatrically places a hand over his heart, blue eyes wide and sad and--this is so not fair. 

“I do!” Darcy non-helpfully chimes in from Tony’s right. “Of course I’d like it even more if you’d let Tony actually do his job, not that I can fault him for admiring the view.” She winks good-naturedly at Steve who throws his head back and laughs. A full body laugh that’s so pure, Tony can feel himself getting light-headed.

Has he mentioned the not fair part?

Steve reaches over then, and even though Tony sees the hand coming, he’s still in no way prepared for those fingers to gently caress his cheek, nor for the shudders running down his spine that simple touch causes.

“Why butterfly?” Tony asks in spite of himself. He’s not even sure how he manages to form proper words, but he’s proud of it all the same. Because this is progress. He still can’t seem to avert his gaze from Steve’s but--baby steps.

Steve shrugs, eyes flickering down definitely not towards Tony’s lips for a second, before looking back up again. “Dunno,” he mutters, lets the challenging smirk on his lips soften into a smile that does absolutely not steal Tony’s breath away. “Guess I just like the idea of you with wings. Bet they’d look real pretty on you too.” His thumb draws an invisible line across Tony’s cheekbone, strokes over his bottom lip so gently he barely feels the touch at all.

Tony draws in a startled breath, although he isn’t even sure why he’s surprised. Of course Steve knows, must have known from the moment they first met, same as Tony did. There’s no hiding what either of them are after all. Still. It’s the first time he’s bothered to acknowledge Tony’s race and it feels--significant, somehow.

“Besides,” Steve continues, unexpectedly finally withdrawing his hand. “You said you didn’t like being called darling. Or sweetheart. Or-”

“Honey, pumpkin, sugar, love, sunshine,” Barton, one of Tony’s regulars interrupts drily from his barstool a couple of feet away. “You really need to get this shit figured out, kids, cause this drama’s getting old.”

“Ignore him,” Darcy yells from the opposite of the bar. “He’s got a bet with Tasha running and is a sore loser!”

Barton splutters in denial. Steve chuckles warmly. Tony just prays for the earth to swallow him whole.

“Tony?”

He squints his eyes shut for a moment, desperately wants to pretend he hasn’t heard Steve’s inquiry, but then Steve says his name again, low and serious, and he ends up looking up against his better judgement.

“If it really bothers you, I’ll drop it,” Steve says with so much sincerity that Tony really can’t be blamed for the fluttering sensation in his stomach. 

“I don’t-” Tony trails off, the words crumbling and scattering right on the tip of his tongue. He gestures awkwardly, helplessly, and would have succeeded in breaking two bottles of expensive rum if it weren’t for Steve’s quick reflexes. 

It’s just so terribly unfair, Tony thinks despairingly, that Steve is so perfect. And he hates himself for thinking it, because Steve is taken, no matter how much he may like to joke around and like to play his flirting up. It’s not serious, it’s just how Steve is. None of it is real. Tony knows that. He’s known it ever since he’s first seen Steve with Bucky. 

Because the two of them are--made for each other. And for all his grace, that’s something Tony  just can’t measure up to, doesn’t even want to. They are too good together. They deserve to be happy.

“I just think it would be better if you just- called me by my name,” Tony mumbles, and hates how small he sounds while saying it. “You already have a boyfriend, you know?”

“Trust me, he knows,” a very familiar voice speaks up right behind him, causing Tony to let out a startled squeak he’ll deny to his ascending day. He would have probably stumbled and broken something too, if not for the arm suddenly but securely wrapped around his waist.

Bucky--because of course it’s Bucky, he loves sneaking up on Tony like this, shamelessly uses the fact that Tony can’t sense him the way he can sense Steve to his advantage--laughs, a warm puff of breath against the sensitive skin on Tony’s neck. 

“Hello, doll,” Bucky purrs, cheekily kisses Tony’s cheek. Which doesn’t cause Tony’s poor heart to give out for a moment or two, that would just be pathetic. “Stevie jealous again he still doesn’t have a nickname for you?”

“I’m not jealous,” Steve pouts. The tip of his ears are turning red though, the closes to a blush Tony has ever seen on the demon. The fact that Bucky can get Steve to do it with such ease is just further proof how of how well the two of them fit together.

Now if only Tony’s stupid heart would get that message.

“Liar,” Bucky smirks, then leans over to pull Steve in for a kiss. It’s a little awkward because he is still attached to Tony’s back and refuses to let go, but somehow the two of them manage. 

And that’s hot breathtaking not good at all fine, that’s totally fine, he’s just going to give them a little room and privacy, and also Darcy would probably appreciate his help, really, he should just-

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bucky asks, a little breathless and a lot like he wants to do some very non-PG rated things to Steve right here, behind the bar. Which is so not a helpful thought. 

He tightens his grip even more and Tony’s reasonable reply dies right in the back of his throat when he meets Bucky’s eyes, the bright grey darkened by lust and the pupils blown wide, the way he usually looks after kissing Steve, focused entirely on Tony now and--Tony is not equipped to deal with this.

He’s hyper aware of the way Bucky’s body is wrapped around him, warm and stable and comforting, the tips of his fingers absently caressing a strip of bare skin on Tony’s side, where his work-shirt has ridden up. And it’s not Tony’s fault that Bucky looks so good like this, staring down at him like having Tony in his arms is all he ever wanted, eyes alight and smile so painfully genuine that Tony wants to kiss him, to grab a hold of him and never let go. And he would, he absolutely would. He’s not shy, no matter what Rhodey says. He just knows when he isn’t wanted.

Like when the guy he wants, the guys he wants, happen to be in a fulfilled relationship with each other, for example.

Oh god, Steve.

The thought is like a splash of ice cold water that causes Tony to jerk back, both mentally and physically. He’s fantasising about making out with Bucky with Steve right there. That in itself is bad, just proves that angels are no better than any other race with the whole sinning thing, but Steve is a demon. There’s no way he doesn’t know. God, he has to feel it, even, has to feel Tony’s desire and- and how come Tony always messes things up like this?

He doesn’t look at Steve--can’t bear to look at him--just puts his hands on Bucky’s firm chest and pushes until he’s got some distance between them. Until it feels like he can breathe again, even though the memory of Bucky’s touch, Bucky’s smell, Bucky lingers.

“Y-you can’t be b-back here,” Tony stutters, shakes his head in hopes it will help clear his thoughts. He should have thought of that right from the start, but it hadn’t occurred to him until right now. “This is f-for employ-yers only.” It’s also a terribly obvious excuse.

The stuttering isn’t new exactly, Tony tends to have trouble with proper pronunciation whenever he’s nervous. That doesn’t make it any less humiliating though, especially in front of the two men he lov whose opinion he cares about. Tony hunches his shoulders, even as his hands curl themselves into fists at his side.

“Tony?” Bucky asks, and he sounds so worried Tony wants to cry. “Doll? What’s wrong?”

And god, this is what Tony always does, isn’t it? He takes the genuine friendship two sweet, kind guys are freely offering him for granted and just keeps getting greedier and greedier, feeding off their honest care and interest. Reads to much into every little word, every joke, every affectionate gesture, he just takes and takes and doesn’t stop. He’s like a- a leech, sucking them dry so slowly even he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. Until he’s taken too much and not given enough, and nothing can be fixed anymore--

Someone’s saying Tony’s name but he isn’t listening, and the sound gets drowned out in the noise of his panicked thoughts anyways. He can’t--go on like this. He’ll have to step back, before he ruins Steve’s and Bucky’s happiness for good, before he does something unforgivable. 

There’s a hand reaching for him. Tony only notices the movement out of his peripheral vision but with the panic, the fear, the You ruin everything you touch! so close to the surface, it’s no wonder that he reflexively flinches away. It is only when the hand freezes that Tony realises what he’s done, realises that no rational explanation can ever make up for this.

Because he flinched away from Bucky’s metal hand. The same hand that Bucky used to be--and still is, on occasion--so horribly self-conscious about. The one it has taken Tony weeks to convince Bucky he adores--it’s an absolutely fascinating piece of creation. And now that he’s finally gotten so far that Bucky reaches out to him with it, Tony just has to throw that trust back into his face.

He’s a terrible person. Worse, Tony is a terrible angel. He doesn’t deserve to be one. Forget the grace, all he ever seems to do is break and break and break.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Darcy’s sharp voice cuts through the haze in Tony’s mind. “I don’t know what is going on here but it stops now.”

Her hand is a comforting weight on Tony’s shoulder, and when he finally manages to turn his head towards her, she’s glaring at Steve and Bucky like she just watched them attempt to drown a puppy. And no, that’s not--she’s not supposed to be angry at them, it’s him who deserves to get yelled at--

Darcy doesn’t seem to agree though, if the way she’s folding her arms in front of her chest is anything to go by. That’s her one-more-word-and-you’ll-be-wishing-I’d-have-called-security-on-your-sorry-ass pose that shows she means business. 

“I’m done watching you mess around like this!” she spits, the sound enough for Tony--who’s been reaching out to pull her back--to freeze in his spot. Only a suicidal idiot would draw Darcy’s attention when she’s in a mood like this.

“What-” Steve tries to ask, because clearly he falls under the aforementioned category, but the icy glare it earns him wisely makes him reconsider.

“You,” Darcy hisses, the noise reminiscent of an offended cat, and jams her finger into his chest with a stabbing motion. “Need to show your cards or fucking pass! I haven’t tolerated this stupidity for the past month to see my best friend get hurt!“

Correction: Now Tony would like the earth to open up and swallow him whole. How long had Darcy known? And Barton and all the others? How obvious had his pathetic crush been all this time?

“I’m serious, Rogers,” Darcy continues. “Man up or get out!” She raises a single hand towards the exit, the motion freakishly elegant, and smiles the most terrifying smile Tony has ever seen.

He doesn’t blame Steve and Bucky, all bewilderment and deep frowns, for backing off. He doesn’t.

They look back a couple of times on the way to the door, but Darcy doesn’t stop glaring and Tony--Tony wants them to stay desperately, he really does, but he can’t get the words out. Not with all the mistakes he just made, all the endless ways in which he has screwed up. Not with his stupid heart stubbornly clinging to two men it can’t have. He can’t. But that doesn’t stop him from wishing, hoping, yearning--

They leave. Of course they do. Tony doesn’t know why he expected anything less. Doesn’t know what he has been waiting for. He does.

He shrugs off Darcy’s soft words. Blinks away the stupid tears. Pretends his heart isn’t breaking a little more with every night Steve and Bucky don’t come back. He’s only got himself to blame, after all.

It’s for the best, Tony tries to tell himself, and hopes his useless heart will get the message soon.

It doesn’t.

This is so much angst and after the initial sweetness, I don’t even know what came over me. I’m lying. I decided I’ve been writing to much fluff lately, and what is better than a lot of pain and angst and lack of communication to keep things from getting boring? Yeah, I don’t even know what else to say. Forgive me?

[writingknb]

HI CLAIRE!!! So character for scenario is Kasamatsu. So Reader is in her third year at Kaijo (and Kasamatsu graduated) and she's captain of whatever sports team..(volleyball)..he surprises her by visiting unexpectedly-and he confesses to her in front of her team (and Moriyama and Kobori);like he confesses his feelings to her for the first time since they're good friends and he didn't want to ruin that. Happy ending with kisses. THANK YOU!!!!!

HEYYYYY!! Here you go, dear!! 🌸

Thank you for requesting!💋

-

W-what if it doesn’t end well? What if she rejects me? What if her friends-“

Moriyama groaned at his friends worries and lightly slapped the back of his head. “Stop with all your what if’s and just go for it!”

Kasamatsu glanced at Kobori for his opinion, making the brunette sigh. “For once, I agree with Moriyama.”

Kasamatsu’s heart pounded, his hands, wrapped around a bouquet of flowers, sweated, and he couldn’t even put on a smile without grimacing.

“Come on.” Moriyama pocketed his hands and motioned for Kobori and Kasamatsu to follow. “The game’s going to start in an hour. Let’s go for it while everyone’s still fresh.”

The trio walked inside the ever-so-familiar gymnasium and they couldn’t help but smile, even Kasamatsu. This was where they met, where they bonded.

“SENPAIS!” An annoying, yet comforting voice squealed from behind. Running towards them was their favourite kouhai, Kise Ryouta.

Kise turned to Kasamatsu. “Ah! Moriyama-senpai told me all about today! I was so excited to see you all again and for Kasamatsu-senpai!”

Kasamatsu didn’t even know that it was possible, but Kise became even more attractive and handsome. And he’s saying that in the least gay way possible.

“Anyways, where’s (Name)-chan?” Kobori asked, scanning the gymnasium for a familiar (hair colour) head.

“(Name)cchi will be here sooner or later. She’s probably still preparing for their match.” Kise informed. “Ne, Kasamatsu-senpai, you’re looking all handsome!”

Kasamatsu bonked the bouquet on the blonde’s head with an irresistible smile. “That doesn’t seem too thoughtful, especially since it comes from you.”

Kise smiled, obviously missing his senpais as he rubbed his head. “Well..”

The four then all directed their eyes at a familiar girl, wearing shorts, her hail in a ponytail, who was talking to her couch not too far from them.

“Come on.” Moriyama winked. Kobori nudged his friend from behind while Kise lightly pulled his senpai’s arm to where (Name) stood.

She nodded at the couch’s instructions with a hand on her hip. Then she turned around, where Kasamatsu stood face to face to her, maybe a little too close.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, stumbling backward with a hand on her chest. Kise giggled from behind as Kasamatsu pulled out his excuses while stuttering.

Her heart coming down from it’s high, she inched closer and smiled at the sight of the man. “Oh, my bad. I’m sorry, Yukio.” she apologised cheekily.

Her gaze dropped to the bouquet in his hands, and he mentally cursed at himself for forgetting about it. He cleared his throat with a huge blush on his face.

“(Name).” he said loud and clear, even her team which was practicing for their match, turned their heads and moved closer. “These are for you.”

A light tint of pink powdered her cheeks as she gulped and accepted the flowers. “Ah.. thank you, Yukio..”

“(Name)…” he trailed off, avoiding eye contact as her team started to crowd them, along with his three friends. “All those years of being friends, I really, really liked you. Until now.”

She didn’t answer. She was too flustered. I mean, a guy confessing his feelings in public? It was adorable, really, and she didn’t know how to react to that.

“I..”

“I was afraid that you didn’t like me back, so if you still don’t, that’s okay, I guess..” his voice faltered, and he looked up, locking eyes with hers. “But..”

“You have a choice, you know.” he inched closer and enveloped her hands in his. “Be mine, or not.”

So many thoughts ran through her mind. For years, she’s liked him too. He was so cool and such a gentleman and was so adorable.

She smiled widely and lopped her arms around his neck, then kissed his cheek. “It’s a yes.. baka.”

“I guess (Name)-senpai’s the only one brave enough to call you baka.” Kise winked. Moriyama and Kobori stepped up from the crowd and gave Kasamatsu pats on the back.

“See? You owe me 1500 yen!” Moriyama laughed at Kasamatsu and held out his hand.

“Fine.” Kasamatsu grumbled under his breath. “Just because I’m in a good mood, I’ll treat you four.”

“Oh my god, really?”

“Kasamatsu-senpai!” Kise cried.

“This day is so legendary.”

“Am I dreaming right now? You’re that happy, wow.”

Kasamatsu smiled and hugged his girlfriend tighter “Of course.”

“Do I still get the additional 1500 yen?”

[dolayn]

too much (pt 2)  ♡ ethan

requested: yes!

anon: Do a part 2 on the Ethan break up!!

anon: Part2!!!!!!! I want a happy ending bro

anon: PART 2 FOR ETHAN BREAK UP RN PLS

(there were more but these were the ones I got in my inbox haha. thanks to everyone who requested!!)

word count: 1147

It was a really gloomy day today. It was raining and you could hear it from inside your room as you lay on the bed and stare up at your ceiling, just thinking. Particularly about Ethan.

You felt lonely, almost empty without him. You guessed that the reason you were thinking and crying about him so much was because you two had been together for a pretty long time, but you never expected that it would hit you as hard as it did.

It had only been two days without him and you were already sad, and everyone could tell the difference in your attitude.

Your parents would occasionally go into your room to check on you because you'd be in there for so long, and each time they came in you were in the same position, staring at the same spot on the ceiling. You'd just wave them off and tell them you were fine, but really you weren't.

You were the one to leave him, which is why you were so confused. You thought that space would solve the problem for you, that it would help you calm down and regain your energy but all you could see when you closed your eyes was the image of Ethan crying, begging you to stay with him.

You felt horrible. You wanted to be with Ethan so bad, you wanted to march right into his house and jump on him to give him a million kisses but you were too stubborn to be the one to say sorry.

You missed Ethan terribly and everyone, including your best friend and your mom, tried to convince you to just go to him and tell him how you were feeling but you just couldn't. You were feeling weak and vulnerable and you did not want to leave the spot on your bed.

"Y/N," You hear your mother knock on the door lightly and you mentally roll your eyes, continuing to stare at the ceiling. Everyone was treating you like a fragile piece of glass that would shatter with the slightest movement or sound. You hated that feeling, but in some way it was true. One wrong move or word and you would break down crying. Almost everything reminded you of Ethan, "Me and your father are going out to eat, would you like to join us?" She asks hesitantly and you think for a moment,

"No," You croak and she sighs,

"I'll see you when I get back then." She gives up and shuts the door. You hear her go down the stairs and then the front door open and shut. That meant you were all alone in the house now.

ding dong,

The annoying sound of the doorbell rang throughout the house and you almost scream for no reason. Any little thing could make you angry, and that made you even more angry.

The sound continued every minute or so, when suddenly your phone begins to buzz beside you and you groan at the object interrupting your thinking. You grab it quickly and answer it, sniffling a little, "Hello?" You say into the phone.

"Y/N," Your heart stops as the person on the phone said your name, it was Ethan, "Let me in, Y/N." He sighs and you shoot up from your position, Hanging up the phone.

You get up without hesitation and look in your mirror. You looked terrible, but you could care less. Right there, you decided you were going to say sorry, it didn't matter if it made you seem weak. At least you wouldn't feel the way you were feeling now, and you would have your boyfriend back.

You walk down the stairs slowly, taking deep breaths to prepare yourself to see his beautifully sculpted face again finally.

When you get down, you fling open the door to reveal a tear-stained face Ethan. You wanted nothing more than to reach your hand out and soothe out the lines in his face that formed his frown and wipe away his tears, but you knew you couldn't do that just yet.

"Y/N, I can't do this anymore, I nee-" You cut him off quickly,

"I'm sorry." You blurt out and his looks at you with wide eyes. Ethan knew better than anyone else that you resented saying sorry, "It's my fault. I left. I shouldn't have, I miss you. Everything about you. I'm sorry." You say again, feeling relieved that you said it but knowing full well it would not be that easy.

"You did leave." He looks down at his feet and you finally notice the rain pouring down behind him, and how he was soaking wet, "You left and I was broken." He admits and your heart breaks a little, He looks up and suddenly his eyes were filled with two emotions, sadness and anger.

"Ethan," You try to explain but he cuts you off, and you knew this would turn into yet another fight.

"No, you left." He repeats to himself, "And I should be so mad at you for that! I asked you to stay but you left." He says, more to himself than to you, "But what's bad is that i'm not mad at you, I'm not mad at all at you, that's how whipped I am." He laughs humorlessly.

His eyes move up to yours and you make eye contact, silence filling the room for a moment.

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration and turns around unexpectedly, walking away from you into the rain.

You refused to let him go so you jog after him, getting yourself soaked in the rain. You grab his wrist and pull him to a stop.

"I'm sorry." You yell and Ethan groans,

"God, I can't do this anymore." He mumbles and pulls your body closer to his, pressing his lips to your roughly. You could both feel the desperation in the kiss, and you felt better immediately. You feel him sigh into the kiss and you found yourself never wanting it to end. The rain was coming down harshly and you both were drenched, and then you realized you needed air.

"Let's never fight again," You say breathlessly as you press your forehead against his,

"Never again." He agrees and you laugh, your lips colliding with his once again.

a/n -- LOL the kiss in the rain omg i was in the shower when I thought of this im so clever (not really) but sorry if this was trash. I kinda like it tho. hope you guys liked thiiss!!! oh and whoops another trash ending hahahaha