#man out here buying that shit that got concentrates mixed in

[qeyond]

contemplating L's fancy custom bong....

[simpforrooster]

but she’s my best friend

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x f!reader

you and rooster have been friends for years. growing closer over your summers spent with your aunt penny. over time, your feelings develop past platonic, but rooster doesn't seem to notice...that is until he notices another guy interested in you and he goes crazy. 

t/w: mentions of alcohol, jealous rooster, I think that's all. 

“Honey, I think that spot is plenty clean,” your Aunt Penny says, taking the hand towel from you. 

Your best friend, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, just came in from the beach with Hangman and Coyote. His denim shorts are slung low on his hips, and he's got an open Hawaiian shirt draped on his shoulders. No shirt underneath. Glistening with sweat. 

“Pretty soon, everyone is going to stop buying that ‘just friends’ shit,” Penny giggles. 

This finally gets your attention, pulling your eyes from undressing your so-called best friends. 

Friends can appreciate when the other looks good, right? 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grumble, taking the towel back from her, tucking it into your back pocket. 

Before she can add anything, the man himself stalks up to the bar. 

“Barkeep! I need something to cool me off!” Rooster slams his hand down on the bar, his eyes sparkling with laughter. You meet his smile with one of your own. 

“Careful, Roos, you don’t want to be caught disrespectin’ a lady. Aunt P has been itching to ring that bell all day.” 

Rooster leans over the bar, giving you a sweaty kiss on the cheek. “I’d never disrespect you, boo.” He’s called you that for years, and every time is makes you melt a little. 

Shaking your head at him, you pop the tab on his beer and slide it over to him. He brings the bottle to his lips, and you have to distract yourself with an imaginary smudge on the bar to keep the thoughts of his lips on yours at bay. 

You and Rooster have been thick as thieves ever since your pseudo Uncle Maverick introduced the two of you during your first summer break here in Fightertown USA. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when your feelings developed past platonic. It wasn’t like you saw him often growing up. Just over the summer until you graduated high school, and moved in with Peggy and Amelia. Maybe it was the way he always made sure to stay in touch. Or the way he hugged you real tight before leaving for a mission. Always whispering in your ear that he would be safe and see you soon. 

Rooster throws you a wink, and saunters over to Hangman and Coyote. Just as Hangman let go of the dart he was aiming with, Rooster smacked it out of the air, earning a “Fuck you” from Hangman. 

“Yeah, just friends my ass,” Penny shakes her head, counting bills out in her hands. 

~

Rooster has been watching you all night. After your shift, you briefly left the bar, and came back an hour later dressed to fucking kill. A red, oversized dress hung off one shoulder, and Rooster has always loved when you wear red. He thought it made your Y/EC pop. 

You paired the dress with your signature sneakers, and Rooster was having a hard time concentrating on his conversation with Bob and Phoenix. 

You throw your head back in laughter at something the guy who’s been chatting you up says. When you lean forward, your arm landing on his, Rooster is up on his feet. 

“Yo, Roos, what’s up?” Phoenix says, taken aback at his abruptness. Rooster doesn't say anything, but his jaw tightens as he looks at the guy. Phoenix’s eyes move toward you and realization hits her. 

The guys leans down to your ear, whispering something that makes your face flush. His eyes dart toward the door, and consideration settles in your eyes. His stomach drops, as he watches that guy’s hand settle on your waist. 

Why aren’t you shaking off that touch?

“What is she doing?” Rooster whispers to himself. He’s never known you to go home with any of the bar patrons before. You’ve always been close to his side, a constant, pleasant presence. 

His best friend. 

What’s this guy have that Rooster doesn't? 

Mixed emotions rush through his head, and it almost makes him crazy. He’s never felt this possession over you until tonight. No one has ever made him feel like he needed to compete. 

Not even Hangman. 

No, even Jake has kept his distance from you. And Jake isn’t one to back down from a pretty girl. 

You were absolutely a pretty girl. 

Rooster turns to Phoenix, and she gives him a smile. 

“What’s happening?” he asks no one in particular. 

Phoenix nudges Bob, “He’s finally realized.”

Confusion pulls Rooster’s brows together. “Realized what?” 

“Come on, man. You’re in love with Y/N. You always have been,” she gestures to you, still talking with that guy. He hadn’t gotten you outside yet. 

“But she’s my best friend,” Rooster says to himself, like he’s trying to reason with what is happening. 600 different emotions run through his head, but the only thing he can grasp is that there is no way he can let you leave the bar with that loser. 

~

You’ve been stalling for what feels like minutes with Aaron. He was nice enough, a coms guy for the base. Easy enough on the eyes, but he wasn't Rooster. You thought you’d be able to make a decision on giving him a chance or not, but you couldn't make yourself leave with him. 

Not when Rooster was staring daggers into the side of your face. Aaron slides you another drink, and you smile a thanks. He pushes his glasses up on his face and looks around the bar. You can tell he’s growing antsy. He only invited you to go onto the beach, where it was a little quieter. 

You notice Jake over at the jukebox. Slow Ride plays a few seconds later, and he gives a pointed look to Rooster. 

This seems to wake him up, because he’s no longer burning a whole into your cheek, but rather coming over to you. No, more like stalking his way over. 

Rooster comes up beside you, his chest heaving against your shoulder. His eyes move toward Aaron, and if looks could kill, Aaron would be Rooster’s first confirmed kill. 

“Can I see you outside, Y/N?” Rooster murmurs, his voice strained. The use of your first name catches you off guard, Rooster rarely uses it. 

Before you can agree, Rooster has a firm grip around your wrist, pulling you through the crowd. 

“What are you thinking?!” he lets out, totally catching you off guard. His breathing is heavy, and you’re so lost as to what is going on. “Do you even know that guy?” 

Confusion turns to anger. “What does it matter? I was getting to know him.” You cross your arms over your chest. After this afternoon’s exchange with Rooster, you knew you wouldn't be able to wait around for him forever. After all these years of friendship, if he felt different, he would have told you. 

“Yeah, I'd say. I haven't seen you all night.” 

What has gotten into him?

“Well, maybe I am sick of following you around like a puppy waiting for something to happen.” You hope your words hit him like you want them to. 

They do, because Rooster takes a step back, as if your statement shoved him back. 

“But you’re my best friend,” he murmurs more to himself than you. 

“I’m afraid that’s all I’m going to be to you, Bradley,” you whisper. Rooster’s eyes shoot over to yours at the use of his name. 

“When he put his hand on your waist, I almost lost it,” his voice is strained, like his is wrestling with something going on in his head. 

“Roos,” you start, but Rooster stops you. Closing the distance between the two of you, he brings his hands up to your face. You let yourself involuntarily lean into the touch. 

“I didn't realize it before tonight. You've always been a constant in my life. No body has ever threatened that before. Seeing you with him made me see red,” he says, his lips a breath from yours. “I don't want to share you with anyone else.”

“I didn't realize I was yours,” you whisper. 

“I’m in love with my best friend. I think I always have been,” he says softly. Those brown eyes that you've memorized over many years stare into yours. 

Bradley leans down, and closes the space between you. Your brain short circuits for a moment, before you come to. You grab the collar of his silly Hawaiian shirt and pull him closer to you, completely basking in the moment. 

“So all I had to do what make you jealous?” you grin when he pulls away. 

Rooster rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss. 

masterlist

[bracketsoffear]

Some very Desolation-y Tyler Durden quotes:

"Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is evolving, everything is falling apart"

“I see in the fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables, slaves with white collars, advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of the history man, no purpose or place, we have no Great war, no Great depression, our great war is a spiritual war, our great depression is our lives, we've been all raised by television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars, but we won't and we're slowly learning that fact. and we're very very pissed off.”

"Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else."

“This was the goal of Project Mayhem, Tyler said, the complete and right-away destruction of civilization.”

"The first soap was made from heroes' ashes, like the first monkey shot into space. Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing. Like the first monkey shot into space."

[while the narrator is on the phone with the police] "Tell him. Tell him, The liberator who destroyed my property has realigned my perceptions."

"It's getting exciting now, two and one-half. Think of everything we've accomplished, man. Out these windows, we will view the collapse of financial history. One step closer to economic equilibrium."

And here are exchanges between him and the Narrator, and some of the Narrator's thoughts:

[while burning the Narrator's hand with lye]

Tyler Durden: "Shut up! Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God?"

Narrator: "No, no, I... don't..."

Tyler Durden: "Listen to me! You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen."

Narrator: "It isn't?"

Tyler Durden: "We don't need him!"

Narrator: [Talking slowly] "And this button-down, Oxford-cloth psycho might just snap, and then stalk from office to office with an Armalite AR-10 carbine gas-powered semi-automatic weapon, pumping round after round into colleagues and co-workers. This might be someone you've known for years. Someone very, very close to you."

Narrator: [Voice-over] "Tyler's words coming out of my mouth."

Tyler Durden: "Where'd you go, psycho boy?"

Narrator: "I felt like destroying something beautiful."

Tyler Durden: "Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?"

Narrator: "No, I did not know that; is that true?"

Tyler Durden: "That's right... One could make all kinds of explosives, using simple household items."

Narrator: "Really...?"

Tyler Durden: "If one were so inclined."

Tyler Durden: "Now, ancient people found their clothes got cleaner if they washed them at a certain spot in the river. You know why?"

Narrator: "No."

Tyler Durden: "Human sacrifices were once made on the hills above this river. Bodies burnt, water speeded through the wood ashes to create lye."

[holds up a bottle]

Tyler Durden: "This is lye - the crucial ingredient. The lye combined with the melted fat of the bodies, till a thick white soapy discharge crept into the river. May I see your hand, please?"

[Tyler licks his lips until they're gleaming wet - he takes the Narrator's hand and kisses the back of it]

Narrator: "What is this?"

Tyler Durden: "This..."

[pours the lye on the Narrator's hand]

Tyler Durden: "... is chemical burn."

A lot of these quotes are what Tyler use to break then motivate the Fight Club (including the Narrator). This (using emotions against them and to align with their values) is a common tactic in cults to make followers more suggestible, and the Desolation has a cult of its own, making a sort of parallel. His worldview is based on seeing the utter destruction of the modern world and its values for things he feel are right. He believes everyone has to suffer greatly in a way to truly be human. The entire movie (and book) happens because the guy is pissed as all hell, and he wants other to be just as much pissed as he is.

Vote for Tyler and help him move to semis

.

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this Week #109 (Year 3/Week 5):

(I had a hard time concentrating on movies this week: I got bored easily and started a dozen films I had to click off after a few minutes. Anyway, below are the few I managed to finish :)

🍿  

2 by Polish poet Lech Majewski:

🍿 A wonderful new discovery, the visually-stunning The Mill and the Cross. It’s a literal recreation of Bruegel’s 1564 painting ‘The Procession to Calvary’, done in Newport Beach’s ‘Pageant of the Masters’ style. (Photo Above). With a minimal narrative and nearly no dialog, it transports a masterpiece from one medium into another. (Discovered Here). 10/10. 

🍿 “... Madame, do you know what mood spelled backward is?...”

His latest drama, Valley of the Gods, however, was disappointing: A symbolic story mixing an indigent Navaho tribe, the richest man in the world who wants to buy the Indian land to mine for Uranium and a writer whose wife flew away with her hang gliding instructor - it was a senseless artsy mess. There were some overtures to Kubrick by using David Bowman as the butler, and Purcell’s Music For The Funeral Of Queen Mary for the finale. But all the mysticism didn’t work for me, as beautiful as the canvass it was painted on it was.

I was planning to continue with his 2014 ‘Field of Dogs’, but will now do so after a break.

🍿 

When I lived in Paris in the mid-70′s, I hang around the fringes of certain Dušan Makavejev fan-groups, and at one point I was invited to join their free-spirited commune for some everything-goes sexual explorations. But after seeing his Sweet Movie I promptly drifted away.

Watching it again 50 years later, it didn’t seem so bad.... Until the third act... when this surrealistic Jodorowski-lite agitprop fable turned into a full-on shit-smearing, vomit-orgy, Primal-Therapy violent explosion. Crazed anti-capitalist, (and anti-Marxist), polymorphic-perverse, subversive anarchy. mixed with grainy footage of WW2 massacres and seduction of children it’s depraved, revolting and unpleasant shock cinema at its peak. 2/10.

🍿

“... You’re innocent when you dream”...

Another surprising new discovery, an art-house film so obscure that it doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page: Miss Osaka, by Daniel Dencik, a Danish director (who lives in Samoa). It’s a slow and atmospheric story about Ines, an introverted young woman on vacation in Norway who meets there a beautiful free-spirited woman from Japan. When Mimiko drowns while swimming out under the Northern lights, Ines steals her identity and escapes to Osaka, where she starts working as a hostess at her old nightclub. An elusive parable about identity, not as deep as Antonioni’s ‘The Passenger’, but nearly just as evocative. The trailer. 8/10.

Bonus points for Tom Waits quotes (which was also used in ‘Smoke’)!

🍿

I picked the Bollywood romantic Dil Se.. completely in random, just to spend the evening with a mindless, silly musical, and indeed the first number they burst out singing (on rooftop of a moving train) was the famous Chaiyya Chaiyya with Indian superstar SRK, so that was a good sign!

Unfortunately, the rest was a mess: Only 4 or 5 dance numbers (including this sexy Satrangi Re) were to be enjoyed during the stretched out 3-hours. The story was about a man who obsessively stalks a woman he sees at a train station, before realizing that she is a suicide bomber belonging to some revolutionary “terrorists”. 2/10.

🍿

Harry Caul X 2:

🍿 What does it say about me, that after thousands of movies that I’ve seen, if I had to choose only one as my most favorite, it will without a doubt be Coppola’s paranoiac The conversation? And I’m not even Catholic.

RIP, Cindy Williams.

🍿 So I used this chance to see, once again, another of my favorite Deep State surveillance-paranoia thrillers, Enemy of the state. Predating Snowden’s NSA disclosures, it plays as fresh today as it did 25 years ago. With Skyler White as Jon Voight (His best role ever?) and Jack Black, who lusts after the middle age Latina nanny with the unshaven legs. 9/10.

🍿

Paprika, my first by Satoshi Kon, and one of my first anime films. A complicated mind-fuck soup about a dream-thief that was hard for me to understand, and even more so to appreciate. It reminded me in parts of ‘Spirited Away’, but Miyazaki’s miraculously-mysterious story was geared toward 10 year old girls, and this one had appeal to 20 year old boys.

Discovered it here, which may have been better.

🍿

...“Isadora Duncan - worked at Telefunken”...

Let it be, Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s 1970 Beatles documentary, recording their last album, and including the original footage from the Apple building rooftop concert on Savile Row. So many great moments in it, the full rendition of ‘The long and winding road’, goofing off with ‘Bésame Mucho’, John and Yoko waltzing alone... Peter Jackson cleaned up the grainy images and incorporated them into his 8 hours ‘Get Back’ doc.

"I'd like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves, and I hope we passed the audition!"

🍿

Restless, my 10th by Gus Van Sant. A slight, sweet romance about a young guy, Dennis Hopper’s son, who - like Harold - likes to attend strangers’ funerals. In one of them he meets and falls in love with short-haired teenage Mia Wasikowska, who has only 3 months to live, before she will die of a brain tumor. 5/10.

Incidentally, the opening titles were playing ‘On our way home’ from ‘Let it be’!

🍿

Make Hummus Not War, a slight Australian documentary frames its topic as the conflicting views on which people can claim the ownership, even the genesis, for everybody’s favorite dish. This gives the journalist/filmmaker an excuse to travel to Lebanon, Israel and Palestine, and eat in dozens of hummus restaurants. I mainly watched it, because Mmmmm, Hummus...

🍿 

Really love, an all-black romantic comedy written by a first time writer and directed by a first time female director. Maybe they were inspired by ‘In the mood for love’, but it surely didn’t look that way. Too shallow and thin with no character development or flair. 2/10.

🍿 

Everybody has their ‘Best of’ list for Black Mirror. Of the 23 episodes, there are 7 that I watched many times, 9 that I watched once and will probably never re-visit, and others that are in between. My most favorites (in no special order) are ‘The National Anthem’, AKA ‘fuck-a-pig’, ‘Hated in the nation’ (a masterpiece), ‘USS Callister’ with Nanette Cole, ‘Striking Vipers’ and ‘Smithereens’. The ones that I disliked were mostly of the ‘Mean Violent’ kind, ‘White Bear’, ‘White Christmas’, ‘Playtest’, ‘Men against fire’. So I decided to re-watch some of those in between:

🍿 Crocodile is dark and horrifying, and the Icelandic landscapes are a distinct character in the story.

🍿 Hang the DJ is about the difficulties of dating, so it didn’t speak to me specifically, but it was actually a sweet romance with an uplifting ending, which is unusual for Black Mirror. 

🍿 Be right back, another semi-sweet romance, mixed with the exploration of grief. A young loving couple, a fatal accident, an unexpected pregnancy, and bringing the dead back to life, what not to love.

🍿 I ran the main 5 mutations of Bandersnatch together with Adora, when it premiered and when she was 9. She liked it, but I’m not sure why, as it wasn’t our usual fair at all. Seeing it now (in the static 90 min. pirated version) has only 3 positives: The unique ability to interact and “create one’s own adventure”, the Laurie Anderson’s ‘Oh Superman’ alternative and the oh-so-clever Netflix meta-joke. The narrative was miserable and not interesting in the least. 3/10.

🍿 The Entire History of You, a completely dull domestic drama of manners about jealousy. It was so forgettable, that I couldn’t recall seeing a single detail from it, even though I saw it before. Ironic, since it was about people who can remember every emotion they ever had.

🍿 In 2018 Polish Netflix issued ‘Little Black Mirror’, 4 short YouTube webisodes, made by young local filmmakers. The superficial stories about influencers, new relationship apps and an expecting young couple who learn that their son is going to become a murderous psychopath, showed that the Black Mirror ‘feels’ are easy to parody and copy, with sleek, streamlined technology, modern interiors and unsettling scenarios. But they were inferior to and much more predictable than the originals. At least they were short.

🍿 Conclusion: ‘Black Mirror’ is considered a ‘great’ series, but many of its episodes are mediocre. The ones that I like, rule. And the other ones suck. Still, I can’t wait for series 6.

🍿

Donks, a new short from Felix Colgrave about ocean plastic, avatars and adaptive bottom feeders. Cyriak-lite.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

[annmarcus63]

He wanted to say "I love you"

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Here's on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34237159

Injured Jaskier

"Blessed silence"

"Would you shut up, bard?"

"If you don't stop within the next two minutes, I swear, I'll break that fucking lute and shove it down your throat"

"Jaskier, shut up!"

"Alright! I'll stop, there's no need to be such a brute" replied Jaskier while tucking the lute, currently on his hands, on the brand new case he bought a couple of days ago to a retired musician living his last days on White Orchard. It's gorgeous, orgasmic, almost as sexy as the lute.

The music notes slowly fading in Geralt's ears, leaving a weak hum behind. Geralt sighed relieved, and a suspicious feeling that may resemble guilt. But there's not time to dwell on it. He's trying to sort the potions and required ingredients to complete the contract which he needed to follow up  that same night. Witchers were trained to tune out every sound to be able to concentrate. He could meditate for days with not a single thing to bother him, but Jaskier's chatter is a powerful contrary spell to the calmness he was used to. It's a possibility that Jaskier fell upon his path with the sole purpose to test his limits. He is good company but sometimes Geralt wonders if it's worth the trouble.

He needs Arachnomorphs' venom and Griffin's feathers and blue mutagen to brew the antidote to the potent venom of the Endrega warrior he's goin to face. Methodically he starts with the preparation, grind and mix, smell, taste, it hurts...it's ready.

Three weeks ago he received a letter from Eskel asking to meet for pressing matters. Geralt doesn't know what he may want, it maybe a problem with a powerful beast or just a call to drink, which is unlikely because the message seem urgent. So Geralt had to hurry if he wanted to catch him on time, he was two days late and if he doesn't kill the Endrega he'd be three days late. Traveling with Jaskier prevent from a fastest pace, and the reason of those two days were, of course, the bard who asked him to stay longer on White Orchard to wait for his new lute case. Geralt ponder all this with an edge of bitterness towards Jaskier, it's unfair and uncalled for. He feel like shit. He ponder it still.

Jaskier is capable of recognizing when he's being a nuisance. Or well...he can recognize when someone has reach their limits regarding him. He can be too much, he speaks too much, he moves too much, he whines too much, he thinks too much. He's considerate you see, when Geralt snaps at him he understands. He can't help it. Is what he is, and he's not going to change, he tried once for his father. It didn't work, Jaskier was giving too much away for the acceptance of one person, he conclude it didn't worth it.

He understands really, but today Geralt has been a little over the edge, and has crossed the line between banter and plain rudeness.

So the logical response is to be more annoying.

Jaskier can be awful too when he wants.

He prod the wild and stressed animal with meaningless chatter, why does the fire moves like that? is the color of my fingernail normal? have you ever wonder how it'd be to become a fish?

the wild animal spill one or two drops of the antidote while pouring it from the small wood plate in which the ingredients got blend. Jaskier swear have saw how the vein on Geralt's forehead pop.

Ups…

"Would you SHUT UP for once in your fucking life?” ok he seen that coming “I can't even hear my own thoughts, bard. When we reach Velen you're going to stay there. Do you understand? Not following me around anymore”

To be fair he has caused this. It's what he does, always, being and idiot with and incessant mouth. He has push too far this time, even so that tone on Geralt's voice put him on edge, angry even. That ungrateful witcher and his never ending foul mood. What would he give to see him smile more often?

Everything.

A heavy atmosphere settled on the camp, Geralt's angry and now Jaskier's too, offended to be more accurate. Jaskier hated these often-occurring moments, as if the bard were a stranger and not a years friend.

Are you though?

Whoever sent the letter is Geralt's friend. What give it away? the eagerness to travel fast for instance. Jaskier send a letter once, asking if he wanted to meet at Novigrad, he never received a response nor Geralt went there.

Geralt packed his things, secure the sword straps and with a particular tenseness on his shoulders he turn to Jaskier.

"You're going to stay here. HERE Jaskier. I don't want you anywhere near the nest, the poison..."

"I know"

"Then I want you to repeat it"

"What? Really? I'm not a child, Geralt" but the Witcher kept his stance, waiting, and Jaskier's a sucker for pleasing.

"I'm going to stay here, quiet and still. If I get near the nest there's a high chance to get poisoned, even a small dosis could kill me. And get my body back and bury it would be a big hassle for you Are you happy now?"

"Hmm. I'll be back by midnight"

Geralt disappeared between the trees and Jaskier watch him go with a big lump on his throat. Not five minutes later he started cleaning the broth pot to fill it again with clean water to drink to warm up his bones. How he wish to have tea or coffe to add.

·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ··  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ··  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  · ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·  ·

Wind's howling, Jaskier reflected, feeling the chill colouring his cheeks and breaking his lips unpleasantly. Besides the wolfs living on the wind, there was silence, a sepulchral silence that caused him feel unsafe. Even Roach looks in distress. An hour ago she was lying on the grass getting ready for a good night sleep, and now she's looking everywhere as if she can sense something lurking in the shadows, and that is scary. By the position of the moon Jaskier could guess the time, one and a half hour past midnight. That idiot witcher should be here by now. He knew that, Roach knew that, so why he's not here?

He couldn't think straight, the worry was eating him up from the intestines and it wasn't fair or unnormal, worrying for Geralt is like worrying for the sun to never come up again. It may happen but is unlikely, impossible.

Geralt is fine, he is, or at least is what he kept repeating himself for the past hour like a mantra that no one would ever listen.

Something went wrong, I'm sure. He'd be here by now so why he's not here? What if the Endrega chew his head off? that's sudden and crude Jaskier, what's wrong with you? He can't be dead, I mean I didn't even get the chance to apologize, to clean his wounds, to buy him breakfast, to tell him I love him with all my beating foolish heart.

Agh, but he's not dead, so stop that train of thought right this instant, young man.

For some reason the voice sounded like his dead mother.

"I need to go there only to see if he's safe" said Jaskier to Roach

"But he said rather rudely to you to stay put and not bother him." replied imitating Roach voice like a tired housewife.

"I know what he said" said with an air of petulant child. "And what about you come with me to keep me in check"

"It's dark you can't see and it's dangerous"

"But you can!"

"Fine, hop on me" he loved winning arguments.

He saddled Roach efficiently, Geralt rarely let him do it but he was a quick learner. He put out the fire with a kick of dust, took a small blade that Geralt kept at the bottoms of his bag just in case, he also lit the only torch they carried for emergencies, a beacon of light that Geralt could see if he was in trouble and rode Roach towards the clearing next to the main road from which people get disappearing and getting eaten.

He trusted Roah to guided him, she was a clever one who also worried for her master.

The cold kept biting his skin even under the small fire, he left his cape at camp in case he needed to run, but they're getting closer. A wooden statue with flowers and canisters at it’s feet appear by his right, the notice board said the location of the insect was near that god statue.

He stoped Roach and dismount then he took the short blade wishing he didn't have to use it, before leaving he remembered the possibility of encounter with poison, according to Geralt Endregas not only spit venom but also exuded poisonous gas equally lethal. So he took his undershirt to cover half his face, this might prevent breathing it.

The turned out the torch because the light would attract the Endrega and distract Geralt.

He walked slowly to north realizing how much he was trembling, it wasn't that cold. It was fear and the soft hum of the adrenaline waiting on his brain for being triggered.

And then a rancid and potent smell reached him despite the undershirt. There. A thick unnatural mist and a series of small mountains piled some meters away. No, not mountains, bodies, Endrega bodies lying on the ground slaughtered with efficiency. A witcher’s work.

He almost missed it because of the mist, but there he was, Geralt, lying on the ground in a tragic pantomim of his foes. Jaskier hurried to him almost tripping in the process, he kneel by his side and got shocked by the hardened veins on the witcher's forehead, his levels of toxicity must being dangerous high. But he wasn't dead and if Jaskier wanted to keep him like that he needed to take him away from the mist to help his body fight the secondary effects of the pocions.

He looked the number of bodies surrounded them, more than six when the contract said one Endrega.

He have to be quick so he wrap Geralt by the armpits and with all his strength started to drag him towards Roach, he couldn't risk bringing her here in case of the poison or another insect near by. Geralt was a big guy, he has always being attracted to that, now not so much. Sweating, weary and scared.

Sweating, weary and scared the bard dragged the witcher to Roach when he started to feel dizzy followed by an annoying scratching under the skin. Roach stamped her feet two times before getting closer, she nosed her master while Jaskier catch his breath, then the lovely girl crouched down and wait patiently.

In a matter of a blink, his head started to pound violently and his vision to get blurred. That wasn't good.

The poison, it's the poison.

With all the strength he got left he pull Geralt on his belly over Roach, the position wasn't ideal but it was all he could do before collapsing on his knees.

"Go Roach. Go" She stood with must carefulness, Jaskier watched her go feeling a rush of pride and victory, he saved Geralt, he'll be alright and that was all that matter.

Jaskier fell backwards hitting his head with the ground, his body started convulsing or at least that's what he thought before lose consciousness.

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An insistent poke on his ribs brought him to wakefulness followed by a fall and a sudden sharp pain on his side. A few seconds later the witcher take in his surroundings. Roach neigh by his side, he had fall from her. The heavy cloud from exhaustion and toxicity still rested on his brain.

He felt the bitter tang on the back of his tongue of venom running thru his system and the hollow pain that remained. There were eight Endregas...yes, the Endregas, he had fainted on the clearing knowing well that he might not woke up again if he kept on breathing that mist. How did he get there? Roach answered with a distressed stump of her foot.

"What?" he asked the horse, and she neigh.

Jaskier

"Fuck."

he search on his pouch for White Honey to swallow it in a big gulp.

Awareness returned quickly and despite the injuries and aches on his lef side he took Roach's reins and guided her back to the clearing.

Back to Jaskier, he hoped to not be late, please let him be on time, he begged to no one in particular.

The contract said one Endrega, imagine the surprise and horror he felt when encountering a nest with full grown ups monsters which position were stronger and their hunt abilities an excellency when attacking in pack. He drank the three vials of antidote he carried and a dose of Swallow that burned his stomach and shot the toxicity levels to a mortal point. The Endregas were all dead, but tired and injured he collapse defeated. The position of the moon indicate that was dead for at least two hours during which he continued to breathe the poisonous gas, half and hour more and he'd be dead for good. Jaskier went for him, he could smell him on Roach, his fear and urgency. Idiot, that idiot.

Geralt tried with all his might to not think him dead.

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At the feet of the statue was Jaskier, body bent in an awkward angle. Geralt removed the undershirt on his face, recognizing it as a clever tactic. The mist did not reach that area but the purple and green tone on the bard's skin indicate high levels of poison, he must have went thru the mist to reach Geralt drag him back to Roach.

“Fuck, Jask”  said Geralt with a trembling voice and without thinking carried Jaskier to Roach, there'll be time to check for injuries for now he have to take him back to safety. Jaskier's heartbeat was slow, very very slow. Geralt fret but he did not relent.

He laid Jaskier's frigid body on the bedroll and with Igni he started the fire, he located the water Jaskier used for tea and used to clean his hands of the grime and dirt. A choking noise alerted him and Roach who was nosing the bard.

From Jaskier's nose a dark liquid started to flow, he was drowning from the inside which meant that he had breath the poison and it was filling his lungs with thick mucus.

He put Dandelion on his side and encouraged him to vomit with his fingers to clean his airways as soon as possible. Jaskier throat convulsed on his fingers followed by a steady dark flow. Geralt reached for the pot by the fire to put it under his mouth, which soon was filled to the brim.

"That's it Jask, that's it" Geralt whispered even though the bard couldn't hear him. With a clean cloth, he wiped the bard's mouth once the flow stopped and her lungs sound clear. It was then that Geralt noticed with overwhelming fear that the other had stopped breathing.

"No, no, Jask come on come on"

He acted fast by lifting Jaskier's chin and placing his clasped hands in the center of his chest and began to push down hard more times than he could count.

“Jaskier come back!” he growled when his shoulders felt like jelly, he was getting tired and Jaskier wasn't breathing. He wasn't breathing. He remembered Renfri choking on his arms a reflection of what was happening here. Not this again, not these again. Jaskier's mouth opened follow up by a weak gasp and a weaker heartbeat.

But he came back, and Geralt almost cried right there and there, but he didn't know how. There's nothing else he can do, he had no medicine of herbs for poisoning that could help humans, everything he had was lethal. He instantly regretted overlooking the possibility of this happening. He was traveling with a bard and the most responsible and considerate thing he could do was prevent and buy at least herbs just in case. But he didn't. They were at least a day and a half away from the next town and being that far from the capital meant fewer healers. Jaskier wouldn't survive the travel, not on this conditions.

If the poison hasn't killed him by now then it means that he could survive on his own, or at least that's what Geralt hope.

He put Jaskier in one of his shirts and covered him with all the available clothes they had, his cape and even the blanket with which he covered Roach.

Exhausted he started removing his armour to clean the now faint slashes on his chest and abdomen, then he walked like death to Roach to remove the saddle and pet her gently thanking her for her help.

It was an hour before dawn, but Geralt did not rest, he could not even if he wanted to. He sat next to Jaskier to check his breathing and keep the fire burning.

The fever hit the bard a couple of hours later, he was burning dangerously high, Geralt dipped a cloth on clean water to place on his forehead, from time to time raised Jaskier's head to feed him with water.

His heart didn't stop again which was a blessing amongst the terrible situation. Jaskier didn't deserve to die like this, not for Geralt or monsters.

Then the hallucinations began, feverish and confused, Jaskier babbled under his breath while trembling furiously. He smell like sickness and decay and in that exact moment the witcher missed the natural perfume of the bard's skin. Like sea breeze and orange tree. Like Jaskier.

By day two Geralt got assaulted by an all consuming wave of guilt. He had yelled at the bard for being...well, himself. He was so upset and it was so easy to insult and threaten to leave him in the next town.

Jaskier hated to be left behind.

"Why did you came for me, you idiot?"

"I don't deserve it" whispered before taking the now warm cloth to dip it once again on cold water. Instead of improving, Jaskier's condition began to deteriorate. Painful spasms convulsed his body for hours, the fever did not subside and his breathing were shallow and slow. Geralt lay next to him that night to keep the tremors at bay, he hold him carefully alongside his body.

"You do remember the night after Posada when we make camp and you asked me to cuddle you because you were cold?" He whispered into the night "I didn't. If you were awake I'd never hear the end of this. You'd love it"

The bard moaned softly and shook slightly under his grip. "Come back to me, Jask." He meant to say how sorry he was, he doze off instead.

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First he felt heat on his face, then a relentless pressure on his head as if a heavy stone was on top of it Little by little he maped his body and the multiple aches that alarmed him. On his chest underneath the skin his ribs screamed with fire as if he have been kicked hard multiple times, also his lungs burned like hell, his shoulders were stiff and sore, his belly hurt faintly.

What happened? Where is he? What, what, what, what

"Jaskier Jaskier. I'm here, breathe thru your nose, I'm here." Suddenly he realized that he was sitting up and wide-eyed. It was noon. "Jask" kneeled next to him was Geralt with a worried frown and a canister fill of water. He snatched it from Geralt's hands and drank as if a desert was kept inside his lungs.

"Easy"

“Not…your…horse” Jaskier flinched at how raspy his voice sounded. Beside him, the witcher chuckled and then stretched out his hand to put it on his forehead. Before Jaskier could react at the soft touch tha hand was gone.

"Fevers down" uh, did he sound happy?

"I had fever?" Geralt looked at him with such intensity, a expression he had never seen and therefore didn't know what it meant.

"You almost died" he answered softly. She saw Roach grazing without a mount a few feet away, she also noticed that Geralt was in his small clothes. The camp was a small mess like when they stay on the same place for more than two days.

"The Endrega"

"Endregas, yes"

"I went..."

"Yes"

"I... i'm sorry"

"No, don't be, you saved me" It was a shock when Geralt straightened a lock of hair from her forehead. His fingertips were warm.

"Are you hungry?"

"I don't know. I don't think so"

"You have to eat. I cooked rabbit broth, it'll do you good"

He could only swallow a quarter of the broth before starting to feel nauseous, Geralt said he had vomit enough for the past days before taking the pot from him. Roach came to say hello and Jaskier felt his heart swelled with affection. He wanted to do and ask more, but suddenly he felt tired, very tired, his eyelids fluttered and when Geralt saw him, he helped him lie down and put his cape over him. He was soft and calm, tender even. At that moment Jaskier knew that he must have been in a bad shape if Geralt was acting like this, like Jaskier always imagine on his wildest dreams.

He wanted to said thank you but it felt so meaningless at the moment, Geralt didn't look that good, slump and with drop shoulders a clear sign of exhaustion. if Jaskier still breathed, it was all thanks to Geralt, despite how defeated he was from the contract, he took care of him.

I love you seem something meaningful to say, every feeling and thought Jaskier have had of the witcher, taking form into three little words.

Sleep took him away before he could have the courage to say it.

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The next morning Jaskier insisted he was fine and he wanted to travel to the next town , of course he was a liar Geralt always knew when he lied, because he wrinkled his nose in a cute but irritating way. With a small smile, he pinched the bard's nose back to normal.

“No, you’re not ready” Jaskier let out a laugh as he smack the witcher's hand away. and before Jaskier could protest Geralt added "But we need go there to get you to a healer and reastock"

"Your letter Geralt, don't forget about your letter"

"Uhmm"

Before setting off on the journey, Geralt made sure that Jaskier could endure the journey. He applied what was left of a soothing balm to Jaskier's chest for the pain and bruises that remained after the compressions. Riding would be painful, but they have to get to the healer in case of a relapse or permanent damage. Jaskier let him applied the balm and he couldn't believe the patience and care the witcher put on his motions as if Jaskier could break if enough force was used. He was crumbling in tiny little pieces, melting, but from a different source. The witcher is going to be the end of him one day of these.

I love you, we wanted to said. He put on one of Geralt's shirt instead, it smells like onion and Roach and Geralt and smoke and safety. It smells like home.

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Riding Roach was painful and tiring, walking was out of the question He kept waiting for Geralt to get upset by the multiple stops they made but that never happen, in fact the witcher was the one who plannified and suggest to rest every one or two hours.

Something has changed between them, but the bard does not know what to name this new atmosphere, but he sure welcomes it. For the first time in all the years they have travel together Jaskier felt wanted, cared for, treasured! With a rush of happiness and satisfaction, Jaskier acknowledged that the walls Geralt has built around him to keep him out and stranded, have collapsed. He finally was someone to hold on to. Jaskier was sitting on the bed roll with a warm tea canister on his hands while the witcher set up camp to sleep the night. A day and a half away from the next town has become two days, they'll be reaching the inn (if it were any, Jaskier hope there would be) by night fall.

Geralt was stoking the fire when a mad idea occurred to him, he crawled to Geralt and before he could voiced his displeasure the bard embrace him in a tight hug. Two seconds later, Geralt hugged him back almost urgently, nuzzling his face where Jaskier's shoulder and neck met. He withdrew with a goofy smile on his face and his heart hammering on his bruised ribs, he couldn't care less. But he didn't get any far, he was a selfish man. Geralt was smiling too, a soft and crooked smile, when he straightened the bard's hair over his forehead and ears, he then, like under a spell trace his thumbs over his eyebrows and eyelids. Jaskier could die right here and then from happiness.

Their faces were so close. I love you, Jaskier wanted to say, he took Geralt's hands instead to place a kiss on each dirtied palm.

"You reek" of course Geralt would know how to break the moment.

"You too, mister. For once Roach smells better than us"

“She always smells better tan us” Jaskier snorted getting back to the bedroll pondering on how lucky he was despite the near death experience, he was a lucky men.

By the next afternoon Jaskier was beyond exhausted, every single one of his bones scream with pain, he felt as if he was about to pass out at any moment.

"Geralt..."

"We have to get going, Jaskier, only for a few hours and we'd get there"

"I can't"

"Please, Jask, I'll take care of you when we get there"

Please, what a strange word to express how much you care.

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Geralt practically carried him up the stairs to the room, Jaskier fell face first on the bed already half sleep. Geralt was placing his things when the bard murmured “Wake me up before you go in the morning." The thing is that even if he were on time to reach Eskel, Geralt didn't want to go anywhere.

Jaskier woke up sometime in the night when the mattress sagged next to him.

followed by a strong arm curling around his belly.

"Grlt'?"

"Sleep"

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Jaskier woke up to the chirping of birds on the windowsill, it was still early, the sun was not up yet. Not even the drowsiness could prevent the joy he felt and finding himself tuck to Geralt chest, they're facing each other naturally as if they have sleep like this forever.

And like a bucket of cold water thrown over him he remembered the letter "Geralt" he called softly "Geralt it's morning"

"Hmm, I can see that" came the sloppy reply, but instead of getting up Geral cuddled him more, practically tucking his face against the other's.

as if sensing his distress Geralt added "I'm not going anywhere"

"But your contact..." he withdrew (a few inches) to make a point. Geralt opened his perfect eyes and hold him under them.

"Eskel, my brother. I already send a letter, he'll understand"

"I'm sorry" a kiss was place on his forehead

"Don't be, I want to be here"

"You...you didn't want to" Geralt sighed ashamed

"I know and i'm sorry. Now I know where i belong"

"Here?" replied Jaskier with a snort

"With you"

"With me?!" Now was Geralt's turn to snort happily, resembling Roach when they feed her apples.

"You risked your life even though I was an asshole to you, even when I told you that the poison would kill you if you got anywhere near the place. I...I'm sorry"

"You were an asshole, yes" Geralt gifted him with a smile full of teeth "To be fair i was behaving like a brat at the time"

"You are a brat, yes"

"Hey"

Jaskier wanted to say I love you, instead he kiss Geralt's lips softly.

Geralt wanted to do better, so better he did.

[joannasteez]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature Themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.7k

Credits to who made the gif @angelreyesgirl

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered

Let me know if you’d like a tag!!!

✞

Your annoyance was simmering, daring to merge into the depths of some irreversible state of agitation. The engine of the classic Dodge Charger RT in your possession had, with incredibly poor timing, began to knock. The unsavory noise resonating into the thick air of the street, stilled heat of the day pushing back the regular ebb and flow of the Santo Padre streets to make way for the obnoxious sound of your engine. Your head was spinning, dazed by the bitter humidity and a steady brew of fear trembling in your fingers to dance just under the surface of your skin. The classic car was given by your father, who'd gotten it from his father, the mass of glistening matte black metal of significant value. If the engine failed, you'd be reduced to tears, wading in the dread of some existential crisis.

Your grandfather had had this car for twenty years, the imprint of his essence etched into the leather seats, and when he became grey and withered, he relinquished it to your father for another fifteen years, till finally, it was yours.

You pulled over just as the last knock sounded, the tremble in your fingers worsening. Your eyes welled, sure to leave a soft red glassiness. The need for air consumed you, the space to walk freely about, a puff of smoke or two maybe.

The pavement was hard under your feet, slam of the door accented by vexation. You picked behind your ear, that nicely rolled spliff safely kept and waiting to be lit. The lighter in your front pocket an easy grab, the flicker of orange a short friendly blaze as it singed the paper. The pull you took was slow, measured, as if to savor this minuscule moment of stillness that lived among others not so still. Not so peaceful. With release, you blew into the air, dried eyes taking in the vast blue of the sky. The never ending expansion blurring your vision as your mind sifted through slim courses of action. If you could just get the car to your garage, then you could figure the battery out on your own, saving time you didn’t have on a mechanics trips you couldn’t afford. All you needed was a—

"Need a boost?"

"Yes". The answer was so quick, it nearly gave you whiplash. The tension in your bones dissipating as you got rid of the sizzling flame around your spliff.

The stranger spun his car from its position just beside yours, the hood of it now facing yours head on before he turned it off and got out.

"Thanks so much for this".

"No problem. It's a nice ride you got, don't really see too many classics rolling around Santo Padre much", he said, eyeing the shine of the paint job. His fingers skimming the hood before he lifted it. "Where'd you get it?"

You step closer to him, a grin stretching your lips at his admiration. The RT was your pride and joy, the height of your ego bursting through to rise above some invisible ceiling whenever folks gave it compliments and stares of approval. "My dad had it for a while, gave it to me when he couldn't keep up with it anymore".

With a nod, he retrieved the cables from his trunk, the wide stretch of his back shifting just under the white fabric of his t-shirt to reveal the curve and ripple of muscles. They traveled down his arms, the bulge of them mixing with defined veins that ran across thick powerful looking fingers. He stretched one of those hands out toward you.

"Ezekiel Reyes".

You considered his hand for a moment, slipping it into your own as your eyes racked him with all the subtlety you could muster. It mustn't have been enough because that innocent friendly smile he gave you had turned into something more knowing. He knew you were checking him out but he didn't mind much. "Y/N".

His thumb skimmed the back of your hand just before letting go, turning his attention to attaching the cables to both cars properly. You minded his movements with the cables closely, triple checking the order in which he connected them with a hawks eye, a concentrated intensity that your dear old Charger RT deserved. Abruptly then, like the quickness of a blink or some single strike of lightning, a thought came to you. "Wait, not Reyes as in Carniceria Reyes?"

"Yeah it's my pops shop",

"Felipe's a real sweet guy. It's not everyday you can look through a deep book collection while the butcher cuts up your dinner". You paused, giving the beauty of his face another glance. "He should've warned me though, never told me both his sons were so handsome".

"You met Angel", he stated, a low dip in his tone. Was it disappointment?

"A couple of weeks ago. He was passing through when I stopped by to pick up somethings. He's a real charmer your brother, but I wouldn't worry. I don't think he's messed up your chances just yet", you flirted.

The assurance produced from him a toothy grin. "I'm not worried".

Silence took ahold of you then, anticipation of the moment charging the pressure in your chest to fall straight to your gut. ‘Please work' you whispered while swinging the door wide to slide into the warm leather of the drivers seat. With the key in the ignition, you twisted your wrist forward, a huff of relief puffing from your chest when the engine roars to life. You close the door quick, that relief bubbling under your skin, your head sticking out the window.

"Thanks again Reyes".

He stepped to the window, those warm endearing eyes taking in the summer glow of your face. His tongue slipped just over the plump flesh of his bottom lip. It was a rosy color, the curving dip of it enticing. He liked the way you said his last name.

"It's no problem".

You put your RT in reverse, backing away from his broad body. "See you around?"

"Maybe", he called.

You speed off, the rev of the engine blending into the ebb and flow of the town once again. Existence dipping into the horizon.

✞✞✞✞✞

You'd saw him again at some hole in the wall you frequented at. The smooth slow tempo of some classic 70s song strumming through the stereo to seep into your ears richly like fresh honey. The atmosphere was subdued, the short clinks of beer bottles and incomprehensible murmurs of frivolous conversations sating the air. It was the perfect place to think, to allow your mind to wander directionless through the never ending abyss of happenings and circumstances that had presented themselves down through the week. You made idle chitchat with the bartender about a laundry list of things of no particular significance, small smiles and light chuckles ringing from you both every now and then.

The night was going good, till you felt a creeping touch just at the low end of your back.

"Let me buy you a drink". The voice was rusted, withered by too much tobacco.

You held up the beer in your hand. "I've got already, I'm good".

This guy was tipsy, blood red creeping into his eyes, body swaying just the slightest bit. "Don't be like that, let me buy you another".

"I said I'm good", you asserted. The coolness of the bottle creating a tingling sensation in your hand. You'd crack it over his head if he touched you again.

"Sorry I'm late, everything alright?", another voice asked, but this one you knew. That deeply textured tone wrapping sweetly around your senses. You tore your irritated gaze set on the almost-drunk guy, softening it as you took Ezekiel in. He looked slightly different, refreshed it seemed, or maybe it was just his barbered hair. A Mayans kutte rested over him, comfortable like a second layer of skin, the black leather accentuating the swell of his muscles. You'd have to figure out later why your eyes diverted to them so often, they were becoming a hindrance to your thinking.

"Everything's good now", you played. Giving him a light peck to the cheek to sell the story. His arm wrapped around you in what appeared to be some reflexive reaction, all natural like he'd done it countless times before. When he realized Ezekiel wasn't leaving, the guy swayed away in true tipsy fashion. Mumbling incoherent things with a griped attitude. Ezekiel took his chair, the proximity of it in regards to yours making the point of his knee knock and slide the smooth plain of your jeans. You watched him take a glance over the bar before he called for a beer.

"Thanks for that".

"No problem", the corner of his lip turning up. "Seems like you've been needing my help a lot lately".

"Don't flatter yourself Reyes, this is just a coincidence".

"Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

Your face screwed up in a show of confusion, but you could guess quickly the reason for the question. "Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

He sipped at his beer. "Outside gets loud sometimes y'know, hectic. It's quiet in here. Good place to think".

"Exactly".

"A little unsafe for you though no?" And there it was.

"Everywhere's unsafe for me Ezekiel, I'm a woman. I mean I couldn't guarantee safety in my own home if I wanted to, but that's just how the world works". You paused, mischief rising in your face. "Don't worry though, I've got a little surprise for anyone who wants to test their luck".

"Oh really".

"Yeah, you men are dangerous out here. I gotta be prepared always".

His brows furrowed. "That's a bit of a big generalization to make".

"But if it's true it's true. Name one thing a man doesn't get dangerous about. Doesn't even have to be rejection", you say, turning to fully face him.

He considers the question for a moment, staring into the color of your eyes as if he'd find the answer in them. "Love".

"A man who loves, whose in love, would do any and everything, no matter how mad the shit is. He'd risk lives, his life even. If that's not dangerous then I don't know what is".

A speck of something lit in the hazel of his eyes. As if your words had brought to the present some memory buried deep within the grave of his soul. What you said hit rather close, closer than expected. "Who is she?"

"Doesn't matter, it's in the past".

"Humor me".

His jaw ticked before he spoke. "Her names Emily, but that shits all just history now. Doesn't matter". He turned the focus from himself. "What about you. Whose going all reckless about you".

"Who says he exist"

"You just did, I never specified who in particular".

So much for playing dumb. "His name is Jason".

"Sounds like an asshole".

You snort, the teasing of a headache coming as you thought on the insufferable man that was Jason. "He is. He's got that weird alpha male thing about him. Has to be in control of everything, doesn't know when to leave well enough alone".

The muted energy of the bar rose between the two of you, each taking quiet sips of your beer. You took notice of the way he surveyed the room from where he sat. That golden gaze sifting through the space and over bodies with quick ease. He was assessing, the gears in his head turning, calculating and considering every and all the possibilities of danger. It reminded you of someone.

"How long were you in for?", you ask.

"How'd you know?"

"You've been on the defensive since you sat down, lookin’ everywhere like someone's gonna up and shank you for no reason. My cousin was the same way when he got out, always looking over his shoulder". You shrugged. "Grew out of it eventually.

His eyes were a bit sullen, as if the truth would scare you. "Eight years".

"He was in for fifteen, and that prison shit is unbelievable, I mean the stories he's told me are crazy". You laugh suddenly at a memory, the resonance of it making him smile in admiration of the sound. "He did this thing for a while when he got home where he'd only have one knife, one fork and one spoon in his kitchen and I swear it was the funniest shit".

The smile falters, his body shifting awkwardly in the bar stool, embarrassed. 

"Oh my God Reyes don't tell me you've been doing the same thing".

"In my defense I live alone".

"But what if you have a special guest over, you'd be a sorry ass host", you tease.

"If you wanted to have dinner with me then just say that".

You force away the heat daring to rise in your cheeks. "We have to take a trip to home goods before I even consider a dinner with you”.

You both give hearty laughs, till the vibration in your pocket pulls your focus. With a quick slip of your phone, you realize how fast time had gone on. “Shit I gotta go, but it was real nice seeing you again Ezekiel".

"It was good seeing you too".

You press your hand against his patch, laying a sweet lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Make it home in one piece for me yeah".

"I have to. You might need me again".

"I'm counting on it".

✞✞✞✞✞

You were a joke it seemed, the universe and fate in a gaming mood, as they were using you as a source for their own amusement. Commissioning their faithful associate to do the heavy lifting of masking their scents. The two of you were at the right place, at the right time again, what a damn coincidence. Before the present week, you'd never even seen Ezekiel's face, just learning of his existence a week or so before that, and now you'd seen him twice in a matter of days. This night being the third.

He was surrounded by men who donned the same kutte as him, curious eyes swimming through the sea of bodies as they did in every other setting, till they met yours. He came to you without a second thought, eyeing the tight leather of your pants and how they clung to your thighs. The cropped cut of your vintage top revealing skin he longed to touch. Since the first time he saw you his mind raced with thoughts of your voice, visions of your lips touching his skin again, plaguing his body with the desire to have you.

You stepped away from your group of friends, meeting him half way. "You're just stalking me at this point. Not that I mind".

He clutched the openings of his kutte, that signature grin lighting his face, even with the casting over of the nights darkness. "Something told me I'd see you again. How's your RT?"

"Good, resting in my garage. I've been kinda scary about replacing the battery".

"Why?"

"I'm good with cars don't get me wrong, but something about fucking it up just makes me sick. It's a lot of history behind that car. I don't wanna destroy it".

"Understandable", he nodded. Noting the caution behind your words, the way you spoke with such passion and care about the thing you loved. It was endearing.

The heavy crunch of gravel and sand tore through the beginnings of some silent stare, an undeniable enticement brewing. It was Angel.

"I see you met this asshole already", the older Reyes said.

"I'm not an asshole Angel, just 'cause I turned you down".

He sent a smirk your way. "You didn't turn me down, we made a mutual decision that you couldn't handle me remember?"

"Right. That's exactly how it went".

A call sounded through the dewy air of the night, signifying the start of a race. You started toward a cherry red car.

"That's me", you said. In regards to the call.

Ezekiel was confused, intrigued. "You racing?"

"Yeah, the mustang", you called, strutting over to your 1970's Mustang, adding the slightest dip to your hips. Giving the brothers something to admire, before dropping low into the leather seats.

With a quick twist, the mustang roared to life, the rumble tearing through the air, growling like a fierce rolling thunder through hazy storm clouds. Another car pulled up on your right, the blue electric color of it dazzling, clashing against the fine cherry red of your own to deliver a sweet contrast for the eyes that watched on in excitement. A woman, with a dangled bandana in her hand, set herself between your car and the other, whistles of admiration thrown her way as she gave the summer evening crowd an alluring smile. At the point of her finger you revved your engine, adrenaline pumping through your veins, rushing from your chest to pulse under your skin. The leather feel of the steering wheel was smooth, the grip you held to it steady. With the downward pull of her hands she set both cars to race and you pulled your mustang swift into the night.

The road before you was a muddled darkness, the outward spreading glow of your headlights stabbing it and tearing it apart as your wheels took a glide against the smooth road. At the mark line, you shifted your car into reverse, whipping left, back into drive, soaring back down the road to where the crowd watched and waited. Their rigid bodies of anticipation lit by your headlights, bellowing screams waning under the busting sound of your revving engine. Your mustang tore through the finishing mark, the tingle of victory surging through you.

Pulling back up to the crowd, you rolled your window down, a slim roll of hundreds placed in your hand by the guy who’d set the race up. You showed up to win and now you were done.

Ezekiel and Angel were a little ways away from your car, your voice carrying over to them. "A little party at my place. You and your guys are cool to come".

They both nodded, heading to their bikes when Angel answered after you. "We'll follow you".

Ezekiel swung his leg, resting on the seat of his bike as he buckled the helmet over his head, his fingers gripping the ape hangers, feeling the vibration of the engine as he followed the sleek vibrant red of your car. The afternoon he met you, he'd been turmoiled, plagued with the natural uncertainties that came with being a member of the MC. That new patch stitched into the upper corner of his kutte had bought a sense of pride and belonging he hadn't felt in forever, it gave him drive, fueled his determination, but as the saying goes, all that glitters is not good. Expectation deceived him, the reality of all things made clear. And that reality was shoveling makeshift graves for men whose names he couldn't even remember, but he remembered yours. Committed himself to it like the loving kiss he gave to the jar that held the remnants of his mother every time he stepped a foot into his fathers house.

He found you flustered, out of yourself with anxiety in the dimming light of the afternoon, and then at the bar, body rigid, eyes wired and ready to do your worst to a guy who could barely keep his posture straight, and now he was following behind you, backing his bike toward the sidewalk that laid just in front your home.

Upon entry, the knock of the speakers bled a thumping bass that pulsated through the floors. Your home had seemed to expand with every new corner that came into view, the walls pushing back to make room for the swell and scatter of bodies. Sweet smells mixed with more pungent ones, the hazy aroma of weed slipping past him as he walked further into the house. A hand placed itself at his side. It was you.

"Can I get you a drink? A beer or something".

"Yeah a beer is cool".

You intertwined your fingers with his, leading him to the kitchen where the sound settled some. Beer bottles clinked, the air releasing as you opened them, handing one over to him.

He gave a quiet "thanks" before sipping, eyeing the way your lips wrapped around the top of the bottle to taste the liquid. They looked soft, full and alluring. He redirected his gaze before the temptation overtook him to do something impulsive that had the prospect of unnerving you. His eyes flitted to the side of your face, an illustration about two inches or so etched into your skin. He hadn't noticed it till now.

You could feel him staring as you tasted the beer, the heat of it tingling your skin. "It's a dagger".

He reached forward, thumb skimming over the finely crafted design, it was a professionals work. With the simple touch of his thumb, your nerves were riling, heat rushing to pulse under your skin, he could feel it. It drew him closer, lured him in. "Did it hurt?".

"Like hell, but when you've felt more painful shit, tattoos like this don't really compare". You lifted the hem of your top some, bringing his fingers to feel the raised skin there. Four inches or so worth of a healed gash rested under his considerate touch. "Got it when I spent a year and a half inside. Grand theft", you admitted.

The reasoning behind telling him wasn't sound in the slightest bit, but what was reasoning when Ezekiel had awakened such dormant feelings inside you. With those beautiful, sunny colored eyes and the warm hand caressing your side, you were liable to tell everything. Truths you hated and dark secrets that laid deep inside your past. You reached up to lay a kiss to those pouty lips, the feel of them mesmeric, dazing. Fulfillment burdened itself onto you, finally you'd got a taste of that rosy pink bottom lip, and now your body was calling for more. Begging for it with such longing that you licked your way through his mouth, his tongue acting in kind. It was slow and all consuming, his body pressing you into the counter to surround you.

"Come with me", your voice airy. Breathless. You lead him to the back of the house. Your room first on the right. A gasp left you when your feet left the floor, body in his arms as he laid you against the fresh feel of the sheets. You kicked your shoes off with ease but the discarding of other pieces left behind a sinking feeling, a pressure forming in your chest to push down straight into your gut. He was glorious, the plains of his skin bound by rich thick tanned muscles and long veins. The dilation of his pupils darkened the air around him, physique imposing. This is what you’d wanted, Why were you feeling so anxious all of a sudden?

"What's wrong?"

Your body had raced miles ahead of your mind and now you were trying to catch up. "I don't know, I just... I feel..."

"Nervous".

"It's sounds so stupid when you say it out loud".

"But it's not, It's natural, and I'll do whatever you want me to do. Whatever makes you feel comfortable baby".

He sounded so sure of it, it made you believe him. You laid against the pillows, beckoning him with the outstretch of your fingers. "C'mere".

He obeyed, body atop yours, your legs wrapping loosely around his waist as your head tilted up to give those lips another kiss. It was messy this time, fueled by desperation, your tongues slow to lick as they tasted each other's. The remnants of beer still there. He took hold of your lip, sharp teeth pulling before he kissed his way down to the heated flesh of your neck. There he sucked, bombarding your skin with pressure causing your hips to grind against the coarse fabric of his jeans. The thin cotton layer of your underwear leaving you to erupt with a fresh wave of need. He feathered kisses down your body, pushing your legs up and apart to open yourself for him. A shudder drove down your spine, that soft wide tongue of his licking so close to where you needed him. He peeled away your underwear leaving you bare before him.

"Talk to me baby. What do you need".

You could hear the pulse of your heart in your ears. "Take care of me Ezekiel, make me feel good".

He hummed, loving the airiness of your voice. So drenched with need for him you were. He was methodical despite the desire boiling in his blood threatening to burn through his skin, so he'd settled with toying with you for now. Giving that sweet glistening clit teasing licks. They were measured, the constraint of them existing solely to wreck you, to kill your resolve completely till you were reduced to in-apprehensible words filled with air. The wide-ness of his tongue felt so good, your nails running over the faded part of his head as your hips drew tight circles.

The teasing, the game of it all. He didn't know but you loved it so much. "That feels so good baby, so good", you praised.

Your words were disembodied, wandering in another plain of existence as they rolled off your lips. Your senses were bursting at the seems, and then reborn again to erupt on impact when he sucked against your sensitive nub, lapping your slick salaciously. As if he'd been starved for years, only just finding you now. The line of your spine arched, waist swiveling, grinding to meet his wet tongue. A low "fuck" fell in the air as your felt the rise of your impending release. With taut, rough fingers he hooked at the back of your knees, pushing them into the sheets. The action opened you completely to him, no choice but to surrender to his will and the feel of his lips as he drew you closer to the edge.

"Please, I'm so close", you whimpered. Vision splotchy, thump in your ears intensifying.

He sucked at you again, holding his lips still as your body shook. Quivering against the sheets. He reverted back to soft licks, tasting as you rode the high.

He rose when you settled, eyeing the heavy rise and fall of your chest as he did away with his jeans. "You Ok?"

It took you time to register the question but when you did, you threw a pillow at him. "You just sucked the soul out of me, don't ask me that damn question".

He laughed, watching your eyes dim in bliss. You hadn't noticed, but he'd done away with his underwear as well, the weight of him causing the bed to dip as he came up to where you laid. His thick fingers rolled you over, setting your face to rest against the pillows as your hips raised in the air to rest against the hot flesh of his length, the veined skin laying along your slit. You moaned in anticipation, pushing back against him.

He gripped your cheeks, spreading them to see the quivering flesh of your opening, the flushed pink shinning in the dim light of the room. His tongue slipped against his bottom lip again, reveling in the taste of you as he pushed in. He groaned, and you gave a single fleeting "yes" , the thickness of him giving a delicious stretch, rigid length hot as he pushed and pulled in and out of your depths in a slow manner. Wanting to test the waters same as he did moments ago before building you back up again. The squeeze of you made his chest tight, head swimming with delirium.

"You feel so good mama, so tight around me", he groaned.

His thrust were dizzying as they picked up to set a steady pace, your hips rolling and pushing to take him deeper. To reach that place in you that would force your vision to blur and be replaced by disfigured stars. You reach to lay a finger at your overstimulated bundle of nerves, rubbing the soft slick flesh with lazy pleasuring circles that spurred the knot in your gut to grow. A single tear fell to dampen the pillow, your depths tightening at how full you felt, at how unrelenting the stimulation of his strokes were.

The sharp drive of his hips made you go rigid, the vice like grip you formed around him causing him to fall into his own high. Pace going all slow sloppy to ride out the blissful feeling.

He pulled from you, both your body and his collapsing against the bed. His face formed with satisfaction, a beautiful buzz running through him. "You know what this means right?"

"What", you asked.

"We’ll have to see each other around more often now".

[aseioh]

Of Cakes and Late Celebrations

Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be posted on Mother's day. But just like this fic, I got derailed and ended up being late. (picture taken from the internet)

It was Mother's day.

Or to be precise it will be Mother's day in 15 hours 25 minutes. It shouldn't be a problem for Alcina, she usually just buys something from the Duke to give to Mother Miranda.

Unfortunately, such a thing is not possible right now. The Duke was delayed with his routine arrival at the castle opening, something about a spooked horse and lycans trying to get a nibble.

Honestly she lost interest after the word delayed was spoken through the phone. How is she going to remedy this. The gift itself was one of the finest silk she was able to obtain, she was sure Mother would appreciate a new ritual robe.

This is bad. To show up without a gift on this special day. She was sure she would be made a mockery during the gathering. Whats worst was that fool Heisenberg would be the first to lead with his pathetic insults.

Just the thought made Alcina's blood boil.

”I should send Bela to switch that man's shampoo with dog shampoo. Although the man still smells like wet dog. No. I'll think of something more devious.“

But back to the matter at hand. It's almost Mother's day and she doesn’t have a gift. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette, she considers her dwindling options.

At western part of the village

Donna is also facing a similar problems.

"What do you mean you're not coming?! Where am I supposed to find a present at this hour?!" Angie's raspy voice filtered through the phone "do you know how hard it is to find a 1st edition book on occult and rituals."

"Apologies Miss Angie, but the horse spooked and the carriage suffered a broken wheel. Even if the servants manage to haul themselves your house to the Duke's location and back it would still be too late." The main servant said trying to sound as apologetic as he can come across.

"This would not do" Donna said finally in her normal voice.

Somewhere inside the Stronghold.

Karl Heisenberg was having a meltdown.

"YOU STUPID LYCANS! I GAVE YOU ONE JOB AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN DO IT RIGHT!!" Heisenberg paces around the small assembly hall. Ten Lycans looked very apologetic, although it was very hard to tell from their looks. One even lets out a soft whimper.

“I told you to stall The Duke for a while. I didn’t said to derail him completely. The man has a package for me, now how am I supposed to get it!?” Heisenberg seethes.

His plan was a simply one really. Stall The Duke so that he would arrive at Castle Dimitrescu late, that way Alcina would not get her package and present it to Mother Miranda. That would show her, a little payback for calling him a child.

What he didn’t count on was the utter incapability of the Lycans to follow simple directions. Now even he doesn’t have a gift. Oh Miranda’s gonna blow a gasket.

“Augh... I hate the consequences of my actions” He lamented

 At Moreau’s Reservoir

“NOOOOOOO!! That’s not fair, that’s not fair!!!” Moreau starts throwing his stuff on the floor. He had finally saved up his money to buy Mother Miranda that nice jewelry that would go perfectly with her black wings.

“Someone’s gonna pay” He vows to take revenge on the Lycans responsible for his problem.

 After all his pet fish has been hungry for some Lycan meat.

 Castle Dimitrescu (13 hours until Mother’s day)

“I have gathered you here today for a very important meeting” Alcina starts looking at the sad (Donna) and tearful (Moreau) faces of her so called ‘siblings’. Heisenberg is surprisingly calm which puts Alcina on high alert, but lets it slide in favour of the more pressing matter

“We have a big problem. The Duke will not arrive on time for Mother’s Day. That means all the presents we bought for Mother will not arrive”

“We need a solution, any ideas?”  

“We kill the Lycans responsible and feed them to my fish”

“Yes Moreau, but that’s after we solve this problem” Donna said and tries to placate a Moreau by patting him at the back.

“Whoa, that’s a bit dark but I like it. And Moreau is right, we’re gonna make fish food out of those Lycans” “Better off those basdards, after all I don’t want to implicate myself” Heisenberg thinks

“People, you’re missing the point here” Alcina says pinching her nose to ward off an incoming headache. “Listen, we don’t have time. You know Mother Miranda, She’ll say she wasn’t really expecting something and then low-key punishes us for missing the day. We don’t want a repeat of the 1967 incident do we?”

Moreau whimpers from the trauma.

Donna goes into a slight trance and starts to shake.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough” Heisenberg stands. “Why don’t we just bake something and say it’s from all of us”

 *beat*

“Do you know how to bake?”

“I work at the Factory, I make steel molds for a living how hard could it be?”

“That doesn’t answer my question Heisenberg”

“We could make a small doll” Donna pipes up

“Sorry Donna that would still take time. And I don’t think we have the right materials on such short notice.” Alcina says

“For someone who’s looking for a solution you sure are shooting down all of them”

“Because it’s not feasible Heisenberg.” Alcina huffs “Can you gather all the materials in less than 10 hours? No? Of course not”

“And I keep telling you just BAKE A CAKE!”

“I don’t know how to bake, child! I’m a BLOODY COUNTESS not hired help” Alcina bellows at Heisenberg

“I know how to bake”

Everyone turns to Donna.

“Really?”

“Of course, I used to watch my Mother bake cakes before the accident. I just need help decorating. I never got a hang of that part” Donna beams with pride as she explains the basics of baking

“And we can gather the ingredients no problem. You have a pantry here somewhere right Alcina?” Moreau asked

“Of course. We always have a full pantry for the servants.” At that Heisenberg looks at Alcina with a hint of disbelief

“What? We need them healthy to serve us. I’m not a complete monster.” Alcina defends

“In any case we should start early. It takes time to cool and decorating is hard”

 Castle Kitchen (12 hours 30 minutes before Mother’s Day)

It was truly a sight to see. In a way it was enough for the Castle’s servants to wet themselves in fear when they saw the 4 Lords gathered at the kitchen in various forms of concentration. Needless to say, everyone was warned to steer clear of the kitchen for now.

Moreau was together with Donna supporting her with mixing the wet ingredients. Meanwhile, at the other side of the cooking station Alcina and Heisenberg are charge of measuring out the dry ingredients.

“You need to be precise, don’t put too much. Remember what Donna said and look at the damn recipe”

“I know what I’m doing you damn woman. I’m all about precision. Why don’t you move away and get that mixing bowl at the top shelf.” Heisenberg grouched

“I’m not your servant. And I certainly will not start fetching stuff for you” Alcina shot back

“Alcina, we need to work together. We don’t have time and you’re the tallest of us all. Please cooperate with Karl just this once. Please?” Donna implored

“Once. I’m helping him for this one time only. When I get my hands on the Lycan responsible for this problem, I’m gutting him and throwing him at Moreau’s reservoir.” At Donna’s admonishment of Alcina, Heisenberg gives a shit eating grin, showing some rather very pointy canines.

“And Heisenberg, stop provoking Alcina.” Donna adds

“Fine, you’re no fun Donna”

Suffice to say, the baking went well. Who knew that the 4 Lords working together would be a great success? If only Mother Miranda saw her children working together peacefully she might have had a heart attack and thought that she suffered one as well.

Or she might have been dreaming.

 Castle Kitchen (6 hours before Mother’s Day)

“Alright, the cake has cooled down completely, So what color will be the icing?” Donna asked

“Yellow” “Cream” “Light Blue” the other three said simultaneously.

 *beat*

“Light blue? Really? Not everything needs to be manly Heisenberg”

“And not everything needs to be boring like your color, Alcina”

“It should be yellow, like Mother’s sunny smile” Moreau explains

“And in which ever universe has Mother ever smiled like the sun?” Heisenberg counters Moreau

“Hey now. No need for that tone!”

“Tsk, sorry Moreau” Heisenberg apologizes to a quiet Moreau

“Fine, let’s do pastel yellow it’s easier for the eyes anyway” Donna supplies, getting ready to start coating the cake with the yellow cream

 Inside the Sanctuary

“Happy Mother’s day”

“We hope you like the cake Mother”

“Yes, we poured out our love in baking it. I hope you appreciate it” Heisenberg said

“Why thank you loves. This is a wonderful surprise. And Moreau said that you all worked together in baking it. How wonderful!” Mother Miranda said grateful for once that her children worked together without collateral damage (that she knew of).

“Although Heisenberg, I heard something interesting from Urias” Mother Miranda looks pointedly at Heisenberg, who for some reason starts to sweat and turn pale.

‘oh shit’ “Really Mother? Good news I hope” Heisenberg tries to bluff his way out.

“Why it was quite peculiar really. He said that you got 10 of his Lycans for a special project. I wasn’t aware that you have some side projects”

 The 3 Lords turn to Heisenberg

“Wait what?”

“I KNEW IT!!” Alcina unsheathes her claws

“You’re responsible for this mess in the first place!!”

“Really guy relax, if anything I just proved that we need more than one traveling merchant in the village for a successful and on time delivery” Heisenberg starts to carefully ease his way to the nearest exit.

 “GET HIM”

In the end, Alcina was more than ready to feed Heisenberg to Moreau’s pet fish. Only Donna stopped her, citing Moreau would probably be inconsolable if his pet got indigestion from all the metal.

And that is how Heisenberg saw himself in doggy jail for a week along with his Lycan cohorts. Mother Miranda did get her Mother’s day gifts from her children although a bit later than expected.

 And the cake?

 The cake was surprisingly delicious.

[hex-obsession]

Silver Lining - Two

word count- 2,259

content warning- language, angst, indirect s**cidal thought

____________________________________________

Crows cawing, your eyes open just enough to hazily make out the all too familiar color of your room.

“Early bird gets the worm, you know,” a familiar voice murmurs. Pushing off the wall to your right, your body slides diagonally over your bed, your head dangling off the side. Upside down, Cheryl is slumped against your door frame, arms and legs crossed. Brazen as usual, just the way you loved her. You held your own in most regards but Cheryl was always there when you least expected it and needed her most. You swear there were a halo atop that adorable shaggy blonde head of hers. And not one of those tacky event items either.

“Like I’d get anything any time of day with all the birds around here.” A tickling squeeze builds in your abdomen, branching up your neck to your cheeks which now had a telling pink glow.

“So you gonna talk to old lover boy yet or what?”

You jolt forward and whip around fast enough to make any killer miss a swing. Your response is unnecessary as she’s already smirking devilishly, aware of what she’s doing. She might have been your closest friend but that did not stop her from tormenting you, or anyone else that crossed her path. All in good fun and love, of course. It went without saying that you enjoyed it and she knew when it was, rarely, time to pack it up.

Raising her eyebrows, she leans back and throws her hands up. “I’m just saying, if you don’t, you might lose your chance. That’s all I’m saying,” quieter now.

You sighed. She was right. You weren’t the only one who took a liking to Leon. But, unlike you, Yun-Jin did not hide her feelings, from anyone for any reason, ever. Of course, everyone thought he was charismatic and most, undeniably handsome. That was common knowledge. You ran out of things to talk about in a place like this, and secrets were few and far between. There was no reason to hide here. This was your foreseeable future, together. There was no getting out, no changing things. Being open and sharing everything together made your day to day bearable. The connections you lost in your old lives left gaping holes, but together as one tightly knit, weird, fucked up family, you helped fill the voids. Some took longer than others to accept that fate, and there were some inevitable hiccups, but everyone came around eventually.

Anyone who wasn’t blind could see the attraction Yun-Jin had for the newest addition to your group. Placing her hands on him in conversation whenever she got the chance, laughing a little too hard at the things he said, biting her bottom lip and smiling at him when he talked. You’d even caught her pecking his cheek playfully here and there. He’d always smile and look away, as if it were a game. Leon always had a sultry attitude to him, a ladies' man no doubt. Subtly flirting with everyone was just commonplace for him. That was part of the reason you held back. Fearing you missed your chance and someone else had filled the role you longed to be in. Maybe it was your fear of rejection or abandonment, or not wanting to lose something this important in a world as cruel and bare this. You were subconsciously working hard to convince him you were only a friend. Which you were, definitely friends. Close even, given the circumstances. Trauma bonding does one hell of a number to the timeline of friendship. Still, you sensed zero difference in his behavior toward you versus the others. Which, admittedly, was quite the letdown. Nonetheless, you had nothing to lose by casually admitting your feelings for him. Keep it light and airy and there would be no reason for things to change on the chance he didn’t feel the same. After all, you surely weren’t the only one with a harmless little crush. That’s all it was. Right? So what if you constantly day-dream about him holding you so close he might consume you, kissing you with four times the passion the Notebook tried to capture, never leaving your side regardless of what the future held. His taste, his smell… what his cock would feel like ramming into your cervix. Your brain was one giant knot, constantly distracting you and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it. Except tell him, but keep it simple.

By your calculations, it was November 18th. You’d been keeping track, not sure if it made things better or worse. Your third anniversary in this place was not far off. Despite being a literal nightmare, it had its perks. Your need for food was no more, as well as your other bodily needs. Sickness was a quickly forgotten annoyance of the past. You stayed in this eerily perfect state. Makeup never crusty, hair never oily and always smelling of your favorite fruit. The dirt and blood you’d acquire during trials magically disappeared upon return. You had a handful of outfits to rotate but there was no real need. Another upside, there were no severe temperatures here. Jackets, shorts, sandals, snow boots if you were Nea. You were always mostly comfortable. Even on Ormond where snow blanketed the ground, those gusts of wind should have sent chills right through you, but they didn’t. It felt like living in a dream or a, simulation. Just, where you’re hunted all day and night for the rest of your existence. At least death wasn’t permanent. Sometimes you’d wish it was, just to escape.

Several months have passed since Leon and Jill were introduced to your world. You had inside jokes and more close calls than you could both count. You were a damn good team and got along smoother than melted butter. What were you waiting for? You inhaled sharply and broke your stare out the window.

“I’m gonna do it.”

To no avail, your deep breaths failed to remedy the painful pounding in your chest, or the heat radiating from your face. Nevertheless, you marched out to the campfire to seek out Yun-Jin. As selfish as you wanted to be with Leon, she was your friend, and you held that in high regard. She was easy to spot in a crowd given her loud attire, but wasn’t around the fire. Which lead to your next realization; neither was Leon. Your throat tightened, heart still pounding. You set off a little too quickly to find her, or them. First stop was Ace’s shack. Judging based on appearances, you figured he would be one of the last people she associated with. Quite the opposite, they were dear friends. Not connected at the hip per se, like her and Claudette, but they related to one another's childhoods. Trauma bonding, can't beat it. To your dismay, the shack was empty, a seed of despair planting in your stomach. Maintaining the most convincing composure you could, you continue your search. Heading left down the line of shacks, robust laughter grows closer. You’d know that laugh anywhere. Cutting through the row, David and Felix are reclined under a tree. They were one of the few monogamous couples among you. The others being Nancy and Steve, and Adam and Zarina. You understood the allure of being romantically involved with more than one person, especially given your less-than-ideal situation, but it wasn’t for you.

“Hi y/n!” Felix shouted toward you.

Not wanting to stop and chat given your current objective, you flashed a cheeky smile and waved to them. Before they could get another word out, you dipped back behind the row of houses. Nerves getting the best of you, you parted your lips to breathe through your mouth. Every breath burned your lungs, realizing now all the times you brushed off your feelings have come back to haunt you. You should never have waited this long. At this point you would be more than willing, desperate, to share Leon. Refusing to let your anxiety get the best of you, you ball your fists and dig your nails into your palms to get a grip on yourself. There was one more place they could possibly be. A sliver of premature acceptance wedged itself into your train of thought as you trudged toward your own shack. Leon’s was adjacent to yours. Feeling foolish for not checking earlier, you round the corner to the opening. As much as you wish you could close your eyes, they were pinned open with anticipation. Looking up from your feet you were shocked to see an empty room before you. Relief and confusion replace your foreboding. Too much time had already been wasted, so you return to the campfire.

“Hey, have you seen Leon or Yun-Jin anywhere?” you, as calmly as possible, ask Élodie.

“They got pulled a little bit ago babe.” She was intently focused on Jane, her concentration not broken. “Which do you like more, up or down?” her gaze still fixated on Jane.

You have to either keep the courage you finally mustered until they get back or give yourself emotional whiplash by releasing until they do. You hesitate for a moment, but to hide your disappointment you quickly retort, “Up, definitely up. Gotta distract the killer with that beautiful face you know?”

“Like they're looking at her face and not that dumptruck ass!” Élodie howls. Jane facetiously puts her fingertips to her chin and looks upward, a façade of innocence no one here would ever buy. You can't help but giggle despite your inner turmoil.

“Well hey,” you add through chuckles, “when they're back can you please send her my way?”

“Sure thing babe,” Élodie assures, finally turning to meet your gaze.

A horrible nauseating mix of dismal, relieving, lewd thoughts of Leon swirl in your mind as you wait for Yun-Jin to step into the doorway. You knew you liked him but holy shit, where did this come from? The realization slapped you in the face. Try to blame infatuation all you want, not that you did, but it was so painfully evident now you were dumbfounded.

A soft knock jerked you out of your thoughts. “Hiya y/n, what's going on?”

Her delicate eyes effortlessly comforted you from across the room.

“I...” your eyes now glued to the floor beneath your feet, a reservoir of tears barely being held back, “I need to know how you feel about Leon.” Your nerves went haywire just uttering his name to her. An icy splash of chills surged from your head to your feet as your chest panged with dread.

“Well of course I like him,” her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

All that could escape your mouth was, “Oh.” Emptiness, despair replacing the jealous unease you felt before. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, feelings that danced around menacingly finally coming to a head.

At the sight of your distress, she rushed to sit next to you. “Honey, what’s going on?” her voice barely above a whisper.

You were ashamed for breaking down in front of her, afraid of guilting her for something that was not her fault, and now terrified Leon might follow her here, only to find you undone over him. You jerk your head up to face her and blurt out, “Jinny I think I love him,” face sopping wet with untouched tears.

She raises her eyebrows and smiles at you. “Honey I have fun toying with him all in good nature but there’s no connection there.” Your heart thuds against your ribcage. “Sure, I’ll admit he’s attractive, who wouldn’t, but I have nowhere near the same feelings for him that you evidently do.” She uses both hands to cup your face and pushes as much wetness as she can aside with her thumbs. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Not only to me but to him!” Despite being similar in age, she feels like a mother to you. Caring for a child, your own or not, will do that to you. That’s not a trait you lose over time.

“I’m so afraid,” you softly whimper, “of what he would say, what you would say.” You're picking at your cuticles, a habit you acquired during puberty as an outlet for your overwhelming feelings.

She wraps her arms around you, carefully as to not tarnish her jacket with tears, which would definitely stain the material. “I was just having a little fun, and from what I’ve gathered, he was more so allowing it than participating. You know I love you all to death but I’m not looking for anything like that, definitely not here.” She gives you a squeeze, and suddenly you can breathe again, the air around you no longer dense and difficult to swallow. “Honey, go get him.”

“Oh Jesus, let me fix myself a little first at least,” the sudden relief causing you to laugh involuntarily.

You were grateful disease and ailments didn’t exist outside of the trials, if they had you're sure you would've had an aneurysm from the stress you went through in a matter of an hour. Yun-Jin left you to your thoughts, which were now solely you and Leon together, doing anything and everything you could think of. The rest of the day you contemplated telling him, more so, how to. Thankfully you didn’t have any trials together, you were far too disorganized for that right now. “Tomorrow,” you promise yourself. Nothing like a clear head and a night’s rest to help you be your most collected, confident self.

____________________________________________

Silver Lining masterlist

[st0nesnglitter]

Book club 3

You and Remus start a little book club <3

(Lots of mentions of Remus being tall cause uuuuuuuuuuuuuu tall man makes brain go brrr)

—————

Remus smiled down at you as he had to stop so you could catch up, being far too used by the rushed pace he had after planting a prank with a healthy mix of just having long legs in general.

”You’re too fast Rem!” you said as you catched up. He felt a small flutter in his stomach at your little nickname.

”Sorry” he mumbled and made an attempt to match your pace.

It was another beautiful day and Hogsmeade was filled with students that basked in the sun and did literally anything you could to stay outside of the castle walls. Remus led the way as you walked to the bookstore, trying to figure out a book neither of you had read. Just as you were about to open the door he took two big strides and got to it first and bowed as he opened it. You laughed at his gentleman manner.

”Why thank you, sir” you said as you bowed your head down and walked inside. The shelves towered toward the roof of the store and you felt a childlike giddiness take over you. Everywhere you looked there were books and it was like your own heaven on earth. Slowly you started walking down the first aisle of shelves, followed closely by a boy who focused more on the person before him than finding a book to read. You stopped before a shelf of muggle books and looked over your shoulder to meet Remus’ gaze.

”Should we go the muggle route? I’m sure we can find a good book here”.

He nodded and started to look over the spines reading the vertical titles. A sound of excitement fell from your lips and you grabbed Remus’ hand and pulled him toward another shelf.

”That one!” You exclaimed and pointed onto a beige book quite high up. He chuckled and lifted his arm to inspect the book.

”’One hundred years of solitude’” he read out loud before turning the book to read the lines on the backside.

”I’ve heard it’s really good but I haven’t gotten around to it. I’m guessing you haven’t read it either” you said and looked up at him. When he looked down to meet your eyes he noticed that further down your hands were still connected from when you pulled him over. A fond expression spread over his face as he shook his head.

”I haven’t” he smiled and squeezed your hand slightly. Your eyes widened and you looked down at how his, a lot, larger hand engulfed your own.

”It looks like there’s only one out here, let’s go and ask if they have a second one” he said, deciding that the book in his hand would be your next project. As you followed him down to the register he didn’t let go of your hand and you felt a couple buttferflies flutter in your stomach.

”Excuse me” he said to the elderly man behind the counter ”do you have a second copy of this book?”

The man took the book and pulled down his pair of glasses.

”’One hundred years of solitude’ hmm, I’m pretty sure there’s a few in the new delivery” the man started to waddle over to a few boxes. He started to sort through the top box. After a few seconds of shuffling he let out a sigh.

”I think it is in box beneath this one” he turned around to Remus ”can you help me, young man? You look strong enough to lift a couple books without risking a back injury”.

Remus smiled and reluctantly he let go of your hand to help the man. At the top of the second box a pristine copy of the book that was left on the counter a few feet away from you was found.

”Ah! I knew it” the shopowner said as he walked back to the register. ”Paying together or seperate?”

Before you could answer Remus slid in by the counter.

”Together” he said and pulled out the appropriate amount of coins from his pocket. When he turned around with a book in either hand he was met by a scowl.

”I can pay for myself y’know”.

”But I didn’t want you to” he answered carelessly as you walked out of the store. He handed you one of the books that you put in your bag before taking a few quick steps to catch up with him again.

”What d’ya wanna do now?” He asked as he started to roam down the streets.

”Maybe a visit to Honeyduke’s? Let me repay you a little” you pleaded.

He looked at you, thinking, before answering.

”I am very fond of chocolate”.

Honeyduke’s was filled with excited first years that spent all their pocketmoney on the strangest combination of candy. You picked up two chocolate frogs and then ordered Remus to pick out his favorite chocolates.

”You don’t have to, darling, I can bu-” he started but you furrowed your brows.

”I will leave the club if you don’t let me buy you some damn chocolate!”

He laughed and picked up a few bars and handed them to you. You thanked him and went to pay. When you left the store you handed him one of the frogs.

”Wanna know which wizard you get” you smiled up at him as he popped the frog in his mouth.

”Almeric Sawbridge, you?

”Gulliver Pokeby” you turned the card around the show him. He looked at it for while before a lighbulb went off in his head. He pulled out his book and opened the first page and put your chocolate frog card down as a bookmark.

”Want mine in yours?” He asked so adorably that it took all the selfcontrol in you to not pinch his cheeks. You nodded with rosy cheeks and took the card from his hand.

As you started to walk back, Remus talking about his plan to prank Sirius, you felt his hand brush against yours and after a few steps he took it gently. The butterflies in your stomach almost made it hard to walk and you had to focus on the story to try and drown out the flutter.

The two of you reached the castle and he walked you to the outside of your student house.

”I had a lovely day today” he said and looked down at his feet before regaining some confidence and his eyes found yours ”shall we say one week for this one as well?”

”Sure”.

Just as you were about to walk into the common room you saw him bent down and he placed a kiss on your cheek.

”

You heard a paper slide in next to you and you looked up from your textbook. It was a note from Remus.

”Meet me outside the reading room tonight? Wanna read with you :)”

You turned your head to look at him and he put up his hand and did a thumbs up with a smile and then a thumbs down and a frown. You returned his thumbs up before the teachers voice boomed through the classroom.

”Turn forward and keep reading y/l/n!”

As you walked through the corridors you tried to both find the passage way Remus showed you a couple of days ago and avoid Filch. You were by ko means a stickler to the rules but you hadn’t been out past curfew before and you didn’t want to get caught. You heard steps getting closer and you started to panic, but then a lanky boy turned the corner and his face beamed at you.

”You scared the shit out of me! Thought you were Filch!” You whisper-shouted at him.

”What gave me away?” He asked through his chuckle as he opened the passageway.

”Oh you aren’t as dashingly handsome as him” you answered nonchalantly as you followed him through the dark hallway.

”Shut it.”

You sat down by the window and looked at all the stars that started to appear on the dark sky. Remus sat down and started to flip through his book.

”Where are you in the book?”

”Chapter 8” you said as you turned back to look at him. He patted the spot beside him on the couch to make you to move over. You moved closer to him and he started to read out loud. A smile broke out in your face and you bit your lip as you looked up at his concentrated reading face. After a page or so your head fell onto his shoulder, your eyes following the words as he read them. His free arm snaked around you and his voice stopped momentarily to make sure you were comfortable. As you cuddled closer he let out a small breath and kept reading.

After a couple of chapters a yawn escaped your mouth and Remus closed the book. Both of your hands played with one of his, keeping your hands warm with the heat radiating off of him.

”I think it’s time to head to back” he murmured shifting so he could look at you.

”Mmhmm” you mumbled but neither of you made any effort to move.

After a minute of silence you lifted your head off of his shoulder and looked up at him. His lips were parted, his gaze fixed on you. You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips and then felt his hand cup your face. You leaned into the touch before taking a deep breath, connecting your lips.

—————

:)

[Taglist: @firecatcher007 @sushiims @crumpets-are-better-with-jam ]

[vostokovasmelina]

— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢  |  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson

word count: 3.1k+

warning: mentions and descriptions of alcohol, death, grief, trauma, therapy, depression – i call this post-snap realism

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: the ending is a dark unedited mess, so proceed with caution

Taking a cautious sip of your hot beverage, you watched this absolute gatecrasher of a man trying to make up his mind about whatever he was so confused about – Sam kept looking all around your apartment as if searching for something he had left there, his slightly lost and disoriented expression sending a sudden wave of guilt rushing over you. Now that you thought about it, it really must have sucked absolute cheese for him to come home hoping he could finally have that huge cup of strong black coffee he had been anticipating ever since having defeated that enormous purple bastard from Outer Space, only to find that his coffee machine was long gone and now this random lady with a philodendron problem and a judgmental cat were inhabiting the place with absolutely no room left for him whatsoever. It did sound tragic when you put it that way.

However, it really wasn’t your fault that you had needed to find a brand new residence approximately five years before. He really should have checked in with someone to make sure he still had somewhere to go home to. You were quite clearly the real victim here. And Lord only knew how poor Archie was going to process all the excitement of the day.

For a few seconds, you contemplated whether or not to put your thoughts into words, and eventually decided against it for the time being. The man had just helped save the world a few days before, after all, and out of what? Good conscience? Personally not for you, but you could appreciate it in others. And it would have been a real shame to die right when your fan-favourite succulents and killer new posting schedule had been attracting more Instagram followers than ever before. Thanks to the savior complex flaming inside of the gentleman standing before you though, the regular civilian had luckily escaped such terrible hardships. And special thanks to approximately a thousand and one other superheroes. Oh, and to an African country filled with similarly public-spirited people.

For a few awkwardly long seconds neither of you said a word. Sam kept looking around and you watched him look around, slowly lowering your mug onto the table and tilting your head slightly to the left. Weird how Sarah had never mentioned the brother believed to be dead for the last five years was this handsome. It is unfair, really. Some people are just naturally gorgeous no matter the shitty kitchen lighting, that tiny confused frown that had been sitting on their face for the last half hour, or those shiny black bugs for eyes tearing up ever so slightly to snitch on a long repressed yawn.

“Now that the drama is over and the Avengers as such are non-existent – have you considered a career in modeling yet?”

Sam snapped his head towards you with such force and speed that for a moment you were afraid you’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon sewing it back on his neck. You grabbed your mug still pretty much filled to the brim with tea and raised it back up to your mouth to hide your lingering half-smile behind a faded portrait of baby Archie on the ivory porcelain.

“Just saying, I would buy anything for this face on the package alone,” you continued with the confidence of a woman who hasn’t got a single drop of shame left in her body. But it was fine ‘cos you didn’t actually mean it, right? It was all just a joke, an attempt at lightening the mood and snapping him out of his puzzled melancholy. And that tiny flutter of your heart upon hearing Sam’s perfect little chuckle was but a momentary malfunction of the organ. The incident was purely physiological. No contribution from any emotional factors. It was simply an innocent coincidence that these two, completely unrelated things had co-occured.

So when your gazes met, you didn’t tear yours away in embarrassment – you stood your ground, completely unaffected and unbothered, ignoring the increasingly hot sensation in your cheeks when you saw Sam raise a cheeky eyebrow at you. Before even more damage could have been done, however, you decided to cut the party short.

“Oh, no. Don’t get your hopes up, Birdman. I simply couldn’t keep watching you in your deeply disturbed state.”

Very, very smooth. Cleared of all suspicion. Good job.

“Wow. Okay. That was cruel,” Sam scoffed and gave emphasis to his words by bringing up his right palm dramatically to his chest, right above his now most definitely broken heart. The overall effect got ruined by an annoyingly goofy grin in the end and before you even realised, you had already reached out for your massive mug again to drown your own erupting smile in the hot liquid.

In the silence that followed, however, you saw Sam’s smile fall ever so slightly, as if exhaustion or worry were holding onto the corners of his lips, physically tugging them down, and you shifted slightly uncomfortably in your seat. It was time you had stopped messing around with the poor guy.

“Look, I know this is weird but I’m sure we can find a solution. Just call Sarah so she can stop worrying now,” you suggested, finishing your tea and pushing the now empty mug to the middle of the table before leaning back in your seat.

“Ugh, yeah,” Sam started slowly, squatting down to get his mobile and the charger out of his massive sports bag. “Can I plug this in somewhere?”

You blinked at him a couple of times while he waited patiently for your answer. You could only imagine the number of missed calls and unread texts waiting for Sam on his phone, but you decided you didn’t know him enough to give him a lecture on behalf of his sister. So you just gave him a tired nod and gestured lazily towards your battered kitchen counter, Sam following your direction with his gaze.

“Above the microwave. Oh, and the socket farthest to the left–”

“–doesn’t work. I remember.” Sam flashed another exhausted but friendly smirk at you above his shoulder, and you allowed yourself to return the gesture to his back once he wasn’t watching.

“Right, sorry. Forgot I was the intruder here,” you joked, delighted to earn another one of those irritatingly lively chuckles of this man’s.

You seriously needed to get your shit together.

“Okay, while your phone is doing its thing, let’s call Sarah from mine, I guess” you continued, jumping up from your chair the moment Sam returned to the table and you headed towards your worn little couch where you scratched Archie gently behind his right ear. “Where have you put my phone, you dirty old man?” You cooed, smiling softly while sliding your hands under the cheap cushions and booping your irritated cat’s tiny nose when your fingers finally touched the cold metal you had been looking for.

Once seated again, you caught Sam staring at Archie, his eyes slightly narrowed in what appeared to be deep concentration. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for your uninvited guest to notice you.

“I don’t think your cat likes me too much,” he finally said, slowly tearing his gaze away from the pet feline’s and looking into your slightly more welcoming human eyes instead.

You chuckled dryly, turning around to see Archie in all his glory on the couch. He simply gave you an unbothered look before completely losing interest in the two of you, and he hopped of the couch, slowly making his way towards your bedroom where you knew he would bundle up under your bed on the cosy carpet. He had apparently decided it was time for his beauty sleep.

“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. Nothing personal,” you assured Sam, who offered a tired half-smile in return. You cleared your throat gently, eyes fixed on your phone’s screen and fingers already searching for Sarah’s number. Once you had found it, you handed it to Sam whose only job left was to press the call button. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly and he let out a sigh while reaching out for your mobile.

* * *

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. But he was embarrassed. Sam knew full well how furious his sister was going to be. And honestly, rightfully so. He couldn’t argue with that. After all, she did say there had been something she wanted to talk to him about. And Sam did hang up on her without a passable excuse. And he did let his phone die on his way back home to Louisiana.

Yeah, he most probably wasn't going to be nominated for this year's Brother of the Year award.

Their last call had happened two days before. Two days is a long time without any news from a brother who had just returned after having been believed to be dead for the past five years. And if you had been to ask him, Sam wouldn’t have been able to tell you what had gotten into him either but ever since the Blip, something had not been exactly right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on, so he hadn’t brought it up to anyone, but his brain felt slow and foggy as if it hadn't had time to catch up yet.

Sometimes, Sam worried that the molecules in his brain had been mixed up and hadn't been put back into their original places in the process of the whole turning-into-dust-and-back-into-human-form-again thing.

It was a silly thought, yes, but with everything going on in the world, would it really be that hard to believe?

"Hey hon! What's up?" Sam's thought process was cut off by the endearing voice of his sister, and though he was aware all this affection was not directed towards him – given that he had called Sarah on your phone – his heart did swell upon hearing her again.

And then he said hi and it all went south from there.

Sarah was obviously pissed.

She asked Sam if he had any idea how many texts and missed calls she had left him, and no, he had no clue but if he had to guess, the number would have been way high up in the double digits.

Then she started going off on Sam, using different kinds of actually very creative euphemisms – which was a problem because Sam got so distracted by his sister's choice of words that her short, well-thought out rant had very little effect on him, but at least he had enough self-respect left to get his sister off speaker at this point.

"Look, Sarah, I know I messed up but I'm fine! I swear," he started, cutting his sister short while subconsciously picking at the skin around the nail on his index finger with his thumb. "What if I stop by Andy's and tell him to give me their best apple pie?" Sam added, hoping this promise would serve as an ice-breaker. Sarah did love her desserts. A lot. And Andy always gave a discount to the Wilson family, too.

When he heard his sister's tired sigh, Sam's heart gave a hopeful flutter, but he was rudely dragged back onto the ground on his way to cloud nine the very next second.

"I'm doing the shopping at the moment. Just got here and it's gonna take long," Sarah replied, annoyance poking through all her words. Then, the tension that had been dominating the pair's call suddenly seemed to evaporate as Sam sensed a weak shadow of a smile in her following sentence. "But that apple pie does sound good."

Sam couldn't help the grin that creeped its way onto his face and he didn't even care about Sarah's semi-serious threat, saying how they were nowhere near finished yet. He muttered out a quick sorry again, promised Sarah to give her regards to you and finished the call with a charming 'I love you' to which his sister replied with a snarky 'I bet' before hanging up with a promise that she would call again when she got home.

Sam let out a relieved chuckle before handing you back your phone and taking the final sip of his slightly lukewarm coffee, watching your bright red-nailed fingers tap away on the device, and he swallowed harder and probably louder than he had meant to. You just happened to put your phone down the very next second, so he tried to cover up the gulp by clearing his throat and shifting his gaze from your nails to your eyes.

Beautiful eyes.

Well shit.

"So, I guess you're staying," you started hesitantly, raising your eyebrows at Sam in a slightly impatient manner, which snapped him out of his blissful thoughts and thrust him back into reality.

Was he staying? He certainly had nowhere to go now that he was practically homeless and his sister was unable to welcome him in her own home for the next two hours, at least. But then again, you were a complete stranger whose afternoon he had just disrupted, and it didn't matter how weird it felt seeing you be so at home in his apartment because it wasn't his anymore. It was yours and you had all the right to kick Sam out and he had absolutely zero right to argue.

But, thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Which is fine, by the way. I did promise you an explanation, after all." Sam couldn't quite ignore the hint of dread behind your words and he was ready to object, to leave you alone and spend the rest of his afternoon doing God-knows-what, but then you offered him another cup of coffee followed by a tiny but honest smile, and Sam just couldn't bring himself to say no.

* * *

Sam Wilson was ridiculously easy to open up to.

It made you want to commit a crime.

His gaze was so intensely warm that after a while, you were looking at everything in your apartment but him just to avoid accidentally trauma dumping on him, especially when you got to the part about group therapy.

Because you had met Sarah at a group therapy session approximately four and a half years before.

It had been clear from the very first minute that neither of you had actually wanted to be there and that both of you had been forced into this situation. Sarah had been dragged to group by an overly enthusiastic co-worker of hers whose crush on the counselor had been probably more intense than the trauma she had suffered – she had lost a dog and her neighbor to the right whom she had always talked shit about behind his back. She was a nice enough woman, but considering that people had lost actual family in the Snap, her presence had always been mostly aggravating, to say the least.

In your case, it had been your grandmother who had bullied you into going to one of the sessions because 'she had the same rotten mentality when Miss Taylor told her to go but then she found it life-changing'. At this point, you had become so indifferent to everything in the world that you hadn't needed much convincing to go. You had told yourself it would be one session anyway after which you would have told Grandma Ethel that 'therapy was simply not for you' and could have been back to your usual Thursday evening routine consisting of a cheap bottle of red wine and depressing reruns of trashy British reality shows from the late 2000s.

The actual sessions had never worked for you. They might have if you had actually spoken up at any of them but you had never become quite ready to talk about your loss in front of a dozen other people, most of whom you had already known. But then you had met Sarah and something about her had made you feel secure, secure enough to talk about them for the first time, so you had started hanging out at a café not too far from the community center and it had become the best thing in your life.

"And the rest is history," you finished, getting up from your chair to put both yours and Sam's mug in the sink and watered your nearby plants while at it.

"I'm really glad Sarah had someone by her side," Sam commented and you could hear a hint of guilt in his words but you decided to ignore it. You simply nodded and muttered out a weak 'yeah', saying you were just as happy to have found a friend like Sarah.

Then Sam said something that made all the muscles in your body tense up and you froze completely for the next couple of seconds.

"And have you seen your family yet? Now that they've come back?"

It was an innocent question. He doesn't know the whole story. So calm down.

You slowly put down the glass you had used earlier to water your plants and tried with every particle in your body to put on the best toothpaste commercial-worthy smile you could force out of yourself before turning back towards Sam and answering his absolutely understandable question.

"Yeah!" No. "They're doing well, actually!" They're fucking dead.

Sam's genuinely happy smile was way too much to handle and if it hadn't been for a call from Sarah, you would have broken down in tears right in front of him the very next moment.

So instead of all that, you decided to turn right back around, pour yourself a huge glass of cold tapwater and down it in one breath while Sam finished his brief conversation with his sister. The stinging pain in your chest that followed was enough to distract your thoughts until he was finally at the door, saying goodbye and thanking your for the coffee and saying sorry for intruding and taking absolutely way too fucking long to finally leave.

"Hey, um... I could give you my number? If you ever need anything or..."

He can't be serious.

"Sure! You can, ugh, put it in my phone," you replied, your hands shaking dangerously as you reached into your back pocket for your mobile and handed it to Sam, who knew better than to comment on it.

Once finished, he returned your phone with one of those irritatingly joyful smiles of his and with a final 'see you around' Sam Wilson was off and you proudly patted yourself on the back for successfully holding it together until you finally reached your couch.

* * *

mini-series taglist – let me know if you want to be added

@softieyn

@mahvericks

@amirahiddleston

@fireghost-x

@samuelthomaswillson

@itsnottilly

@loveyhoneydovey

@songofcosplay

@titaniumstark

@falcons-wings

@claudiaatje

@srodulvroux

@annathesillyfriend

@lokiandbuckylove

mcu taglist – join here

@babymango-writes

@softieyn

@spencereidisabicon

@whutisthus

@katethecrazy

@swanimagines

@amirahiddleston

@remusflirts

@musicallisto

@skinny-bitch-juice

@teti-menchon0604

@anon-2837282

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad

@heart-eyes-horan

@lxncelot

@amortensie

@claudiaatje

@gimmelovepls

@raven-emxralds

@whovianayesha

@the-jess-life

[thegirlintheswivelchair]

You Owe Me Ice Cream || P.P.

Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: +6.4K (...I still write a lot)

Summary: You and Peter made a bet. You won, but right now, Peter is really just hoping he’ll get the chance to get that ice cream with you.

Warnings: Lots of angst (with a happy end). Violence, mentions of blood, surgery, near death moments, talk of death and major injury, anxiety, a few swear words, hospitals, but there is fluff around here somewhere. Let me know if I missed anything. (And as always, bad editing)

A/N: Hey, this is the first fight scene with a major injury I’ve written. (Also, it’s my second fic ever, so that too…) So I’m hoping this makes sense and isn’t too disappointing. It does shift tone a lot after the time lapse! Feedback, likes and reblogs are super duper appreciated

(Italics are a flashback)

——

You were on the other side of the alleyway from Peter. The pair of you were sparring with the rather large group of men you had been trailing since the beginning of patrol. They were putting up a good fight, but it seemed like you and Peter had the upper hand.

“Hey Spidey, if we get done here soon enough, that ice cream shop might still be open.” You spoke into your comms swiftly dodging a punch and kicking the legs out from under one of the men surrounding you.

“The one with the gigantic brownie sundaes?” Peter asked in return, glancing over his shoulder at you while simultaneously whipping one of the thugs he had webbed into the wall.

“Yeah, that’s the one! What do you think, whoever takes down more baddies buys?” You offer the bet, feeling confident as you concentrate your powers to your fists to deliver a stunning blow to the next available target. Your fist makes contact with their jaw, bright energy transferring across their face. They drop like a marionette.

“Oh, you’re on, Sparks.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as the two of you began fighting the men circled around you with new enthusiasm.

With fists glowing, you knocked the last man near you unconscious with a particularly nasty right hook. “Ha! That makes five, Spiderman. I think you might be buying.” You quipped, but your attention was immediately drawn to the other antagonists of the night who were focused on Peter. You ran deeper into the alleyway as Peter kept up his assault on the last two men, dodging their advances and throwing his own hits into the mix. Neither of you noticed one of the bodies on the ground stir, taking an odd looking contraption out of his pocket and aiming it at your oncoming figure.

Peter sensed the attack before it happened. Whipping around to warn you, he shouted your name, but it was too late. He saw the poisonous purple light pierce your stomach and throw you against the brick wall of the alleyway. Peter shot out a web, yanked the alien-tech from the attacker, and stuck it to the wall, quickly sending a taser web to stun the man once more.

He dodged the punches from the other thugs, and began sprinting in your direction as you slid down the wall, one arm holding your abdomen. You looked up at him shaking your head in warning and whispered the word “swing.” His enhanced hearing caught the word just in time to launch himself upwards when you summoned the last of your strength to finish the fight. Raising your hand, shining white hot and blinding, you slammed it against the ground. A pulse of energy flew from your fist at the impact sending the remaining thugs flying into the walls opposite you. Each one hit the brick with sickening crunches and crumpled to the ground.

The moment the wave had dissipated, Peter swung and landed next to you. He fell to his knees with his chest heaving. Big white eyes stared at you wide and panicked as he looked to the quickly darkening patch on your suit. Karen, his AI, was speaking to him, telling him about the injury you had sustained and the state of your vitals. Neither were good. You needed immediate medical attention or—He couldn’t finish the thought. He wouldn’t. He reached out to you, cupping your masked face with shaking hands. You looked up at him with pain in your eyes.

“Shit, Spidey. I’m so—I’m so sorry. I didn’t see the guy was waking up. I should—I should’ve—“ Your words were punctuated with your gasping pants as the adrenaline and your wound stopped you from breathing properly. With your free hand you pulled off your mask trying to get air.

“Hey, hey, no, no, no, it’s ok. It’s not your fault. We both thought he was down for the count.” Peter said his thumb rubbing across your cheek. “I gotta get you out of here. We need to get you to Dr. Cho.”

You looked down at your body. “He really—really got me good didn’t he...” Your voice sounded weak as you spoke. Peter noticed your eyes flutter.

“Y/N, keep your eyes open. You gotta stay with me.” Peter’s voice was soft but urgent. On the outside he seemed to have calmed down. He was trying to offer you strength as you struggled against the black that was closing around you. Just below the surface his heart was hammering in his chest. Fear coursed through his veins as his mind scrambled to think how he was going to move you—and to where. He didn’t think he could actually get you to Dr. Cho. The two of you were miles from the tower in the city.

“I’m not going anywhere spider-boy,” You answered weakly, “You owe me ice cream.” Your lips twitched up slightly as you stared at him with heavily lidded eyes.

Peter wanted to smile, but he saw your grip on your stomach loosen. You were losing too much blood. Red warning signs were starting to go off in the periphery of his mask, alerting him to the steadily sinking state of your health.  He needed to act somehow, and fast. He asked Karen about any hospitals, and she said there was an urgent care about 20 blocks north from your location...It would have to do.

Shifting around and getting into position to pick you up, one of his arms moved under your legs and the other stayed cupping your cheek as he said, “I’ll buy you all the ice cream you want after this, but you have to promise me you’ll stay awake, yeah? Now, we really need to get you help, Y/N/N.” You nodded sluggishly, and he moved his hand from your cheek to snake around your torso and lifted you up.

You let out a cry of pain as the movement jostled you. Your free hand came up to grip his shoulder as if to stop him from moving. The sound ripped through Peter, “I know. I know this hurts, but we gotta go. It’s only a mile from here. Just stay with me.” His soft voice broke at the end as he began to run. Whimpers and little cries of pain came from you with each step.

“Peter!” you yelped, “Peter, you have to—to stop!”

“I can’t, you’re bleeding out,” he said, slight panic finally making its way into his voice as he continued his run.

“Peter, please! I’m—I’m…” Your weak voice trailed off and the grip you’d had on Peter’s shoulder fell away to hang loosely at your side.

Peter skidded to a halt when he saw your eyes had shut. His lungs heaved with adrenaline and a new kind of fear that was sending shards of ice through his chest. “No, no, no, no, no! Y/N!” he called out loudly, “Y/N, open your eyes!”

When you still gave no response, he dropped to the ground placing you on his lap. He was cradling you against his chest with one arm and the other going to place new pressure on your wound. “Y/N! Come on, wake up!” He pleaded.

Focused on repeating his plea over and over as you laid unresponsive, he didn’t even realize Karen’s voice of warning had been replaced by another.

“Kid! Hey! Underoos!” A slightly gruff voice broke through Peter’s growing haze of hysteria.

His head snapped up, as if looking for the location of the voice. “Mr.—Mr. Stark?” he stuttered.

Tony spoke quickly through Peter’s comms, “Underoos, what the hell is going on? Friday’s alarm for Y/N’s vitals is going off. Kid, her stats are plummeting—“

“Mr. Stark! Y/N, she—she got shot by some kind of alien tech. It hit her stomach, and—and now she’s bleeding out. I didn’t—I didn’t see the guy waking up, and now...Oh my God, I can’t—she’s barely breathing.” Peter rushed out, stuttering as the panic was trying to take control. He was looking at your ashen face and hearing your heartbeat weaken slowly, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Peter, I’m on my way. I need you to breath,“ Tony said while a cascade of small metallic clinks could be heard over the comms, no doubt it was his nano-tech suit surrounding his body.

“But Mr. Stark, you’re not supposed to—“

“I can, and I will. She needs help. I’ll be there in five,” Tony said firmly.

Peter looked down at you, not answering his mentor. His hand was still pressed to your wound, and his chest pinched as he watched a dark stain transfer to his hand as he held you. “Please, Y/N/N… please stay with me…” he croaked leaning his forehead on yours.

He kept cradling you, listening to your heartbeat, and wishing with all he was that it would keep beating. Finally, he heard the sounds of thrusters and a low clank of metal hitting the ground.

Whipping his head in the direction of the iron suit, his grip tightened around you. “She’s—her heart...” His voice broke as he stared at the red and gold figure.

Tony, inside the suit, stepped closer answering quickly, “I know, Pete. I need to take her, so we can give her a fighting chance.” The suit whirred as he knelt in front of Peter's and your hunched figures, arms extending in an invitation for Peter to place your body into his care.

Peter hesitated, realizing this might be the last time he’d hear your heartbeat ever again. “I can’t lose her.” Peter’s voice was so small as he looked up at the Iron Man mask with his own bright white eyes. They seemed to plead with the retired superhero to make a miracle happen.

Tony spoke softly, “Then let’s go. Come on.” His hands gestured for your body.

Peter shifted your weight in his arms and gently laid you down in the arms of the iron suit. Immediately, Tony stood up, nodded to Peter, and launched himself into the sky rocketing in the direction of the tower.

Without missing a beat, Peter shot out a web and started to swing and follow your fleeting figure.

——

Peter’s whole body was screaming with fatigue as he finally made it to the tower. Clambering through the window Tony kept open for him, he practically fell on his face, but strong arms caught him and set him on his feet. Peter ripped off his mask, and looked up meeting Steve’s eyes. His brown eyes searched the blond’s face for any sign of how you were doing. “Y/N, is she—“ He broke off, not sure how to end that question. “I—I need to see her,” He breathed, trying to move from Steve’s grip, urged forward by his singular focus of making sure you were ok.

Steve’s grip only got stronger around Peter’s shoulders stopping him from rushing into the medical wing. “They’re still working on her, Peter. You won’t be allowed to see her.”

“But is she ok? Is—is she going to be ok?”

Steve looked into the young man’s eyes, brows pinched together, “They aren’t sure. She’s in critical condition, but they said there’s a chance she’ll make it through.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Peter whispered, “there’s a chance…” He set his jaw and nodded like he was solidifying his resolve not to freak out. You had a chance, and the thought lit a spark of hope at his core, and he was going to cling to it like a lifeline.

——

Peter was officially coming undone at the seams. For the last two hours he had seen nurses rushing in and out of the operating wing, some with extra gauze and others carrying new bags of blood. No one paused or came in with new information, and the lack of news was driving him crazy. His hair was sticking up in every direction now having been finger-combed and tugged on countless times. His eyes were burning holes into the ground when he wasn’t looking at the doors the medical team was frequenting. An anxious energy spilled from his body as he paced and bounced on his feet.

A few of the other team members who had trickled in to wait for news about you sat watching him move back and forth, unsure of how to comfort him. Tony had given up trying to get him to calm down an hour ago when he had gotten Peter to try and sit down only for him to fidget and jiggle his legs until Peter felt like he would explode from the anxiety and trapped emotions that were sizzling under the surface. Peter had jumped up the moment he saw a nurse come through the doors, but immediately groaned in frustration as the man had kept moving past the door. Spinning on his heel, he continued his pacing. Tony, seeing it was what helped distract him, let Peter resume pacing—even if it was making his own skin crawl. Anyone who tried to talk to Peter, or even tell him to change out of his suit was met with silence and an intense stare that told them to back off.

Another hour passed, and it didn’t matter how much he moved, how much he paced and tried to zone everything out, he was going to snap soon if he didn’t get an update. He was contemplating charging through the doors that led to where you were being operated on and demanding information, but he knew that wasn’t going to help anyone, especially you.

You—his partner in crime and in battle, the person he turned to when he needed a good hug or a laugh, the friend that challenged him and inspired him. You—the woman that was fierce, good, and beautiful. You—the one who had slowly taken root in his heart, the one he never wanted to let go of—were hanging on to life by a thread, all because he didn’t notice a thug waking up.

He should have been able to stop the attack or warn you faster. If you died…

The thought was enough to stop his breathing and still his movement—something he barely noticed as his mind was starting to crumble under the stress. He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. Immediately tensing up, he turned toward the intruder ready to lash out, but was met with familiar hazel eyes and his body language softened at the sight of his friend. Her hand came up to cup his cheek. “Breath, Peter,” she said quietly.

“Wanda…” Peter whispered as he tried to take a breath in.

“Just breath. Take a deep breath with me.” The hand on his cheek moved to his chest, and she breathed deeply while looking into his eyes. He followed her breath letting her presence ground him.

“Wanda...what if she doesn’t—” Peter murmured biting his bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

“Don’t give those words power, Peter,” She said, cutting him off with her accent coming out strongly. Peter saw the worry around her eyes and realized she was saying this not only for him but for herself too. Wanda loved you. He knew losing you would be devastating for her.

Peter pulled Wanda into a bone crushing hug wanting to offer her comfort, and some kind of apology for everything that was happening, and he just really freaking needed a hug right now. She wrapped her arms around him, and they stayed that way just silently offering each other strength.

They didn’t break apart until they heard a small clearing of the throat coming from the door of the waiting room. Peter’s head snapped up, and moved to give his full attention to Dr. Cho.

“Do—Do you have news? How is she? Is she ok? Please tell me she’s ok.” Peter rushed out, eyes pleading with the woman.

She looked tired, but her face and body language didn’t suggest the news she had was bad. Instead, with a sigh that seemed relieved, she offered the room full of waiting Avengers a small smile as she said, “Y/N made it through the surgery, and should make a full recovery.” All around the room, mutterings of ‘thank God’ and huge sighs of relief were heard as Dr. Cho continued, ”You can go see her. She is in the room at the end of the hall recovering, but with her injuries being as bad as they were, we are keeping her sedated for the night to—”

Peter didn’t listen to the last part of what the doctor said. As soon as she had said you were going to make it, he had rushed passed her through the door and was running down the hallway looking into each room until he saw you in the room at the end. You were pale and wires were hooked up to you everywhere. An oxygen tube was placed under your nose, and an IV ran from your hand leading to drip bags. The room was filled with electrical noises and beeps, but all Peter could hear was your heartbeat. Your beautiful, strong, living heartbeat.

Peter rushed into the room and stopped at the head of your bed. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he ran the pads of his fingertips lightly over the side of your face gently trailing down your jaw line and coming back to delicately caress your cheek. You were warm to the touch, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt something more wonderful.

Suddenly, the world blurred, and he sucked in a violent breath of air. A sob broke from his mouth as he collapsed into the chair by the bed. The relief and the overwhelming release of all the emotions he had been keeping at bay that night were flooding out of his body with each sob. His hand found yours and he held onto it like his life depended on it. In his head, he could only think one thing:

She’s alive, She’s alive, She’s alive…

——

2 Months later

Right now, Peter had butterflies in his stomach so severe he was sure he was going to barf. He was sitting in the living room of the Avengers compound bouncing his legs and tapping his fingers in an attempt to relieve any of the nervousness that was churning in his stomach. It really wasn’t helping, so he tried to distract himself by picking up his phone to look at it for a few minutes, but then he didn’t want to miss you coming in, so he put it down, and turned his head towards the entrance of the hallway he knew you were going to be coming through. But then as he over thought that, he realized it might be weird to just stare until you came, so he went back to staring through the window. Except that didn’t distract him enough from his nerves, so he went back to trying the phone again. 

It became a cycle, and by the fourth round of Peter doing this, and the added leg bounce shaking the couch, Nat finally shut her book with a loud thud and stared at the nervous guy on the other side of the couch. “Peter.” She said in a flat voice.

He was scrolling on his phone again, and didn’t notice her call him.

“Peter.” She tried again. 

Nothing.

Rolling her eyes, she picked up the pillow next to her and chucked it at him. It hit him in the head.

“Hey! What was that for?” He questioned a little annoyed as his hand went up to his hair to make sure it didn’t get messed up. 

“You’re shaking the couch, and I can tell you’re nervous. What’s going on?” She asked evenly.

Peter’s cheeks and tips of his ears flushed a light shade of pink, at her observation. “Oh sorry,” He mumbled, his legs stopping for the moment. “It’s nothing. Just waiting for Y/N to go get ice cream.”

Nat just stared at him for a moment, her eyes doing their usual cool assessment, until the corner of her lips quirked up in a small knowing smile. “You hang out all the time? What’s different about today?” She asked.

His nerves turned into insecurity quickly as he looked at her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t trust Natasha, she’d been his confidant before. He might even say their relationship had grown into some kind of friendship with the long hours of training and missions they had done together, but this was different. He had barely admitted to himself the thing that was making his heart pound and his palms sweat, let alone anyone else.

See, it had been 8 weeks since your near fatal accident. The one where Peter hadn’t known if you would make it for a better part of 7 hours. It had been some of the worst hours of his life, and he’d had plenty of terrible hours. He still wanted to cry every time he pictured your body lying limply in his arms barely breathing. He had been so scared to lose you. 

Between that night and now, Peter had thought a lot about why he’d been so scared. Sure, you were one of his best friends, and yes to lose any of his teammates would be devastating, and ok the situation is traumatic and heartbreaking even if you had been a stranger, but he’d felt a very specific fear that day. It reminded him of the fear he had felt the day his uncle died, and the day he saw Tony burnt and broken after the snap. In fact, he realized in all three situations, it had been the same exact fear. It was the kind of fear that didn’t just plant itself in the chest and make it hard to breath. It was the kind that rooted itself in the soul, making one’s whole being want to scream. It was the kind that anticipated pain, but not of a broken heart. No, this fear knew that if the worst happened the heart would be shattered and never whole again. That was the fear that had raced through Peter’s veins the night you’d gotten hurt.

But in usual Peter fashion, he hadn’t understood why the same fear connected you to these other events in his life until about a week ago. That was when Peter had, what he says, a ridiculously cheesy lightbulb moment. It was during a game night with the rest of the team. 

For some reason, the team had landed on Dance Dance Revolution for the night’s entertainment—much to your chagrin. You were being a good sport about it, until the betting part of the night began. Then your competitive side had no choice but to come out. Bets for using someone’s cool new fighting toy, doing someone’s laundry or their paperwork for a given amount of time, sacrificing a favorite food for another person, or simply just lots of cash began circling between the team. 

You’d won and lost a couple rounds with Wanda and Sam, and were currently rolling your eyes at Sam who was circling you in a victory dance. You turned to Peter, and just by the look in your eyes, he knew he was your next challenge. You jutted your chin at him like the “cool kid” you were, making him laugh, and said you could do better than he could. 

“What do you think, Spidey?”

“What do I think? I think I can win this,” He said a bit cockily, teasing you with his confidence. “But what do I get when I win, Sparks?” He asked using the nickname he’d given you. 

“Oh please, this is clearly going to end with me winning.” You shot back before pausing to look at him thoughtfully, “What’s it worth to you?”

Peter smiled a little darkly before humming in thought, “How about, if I win, you have to clean up my web fluid station for a week?”

You grimaced, “Ugh, you always leave the worst mess when you’re experimenting.”

“Yup,” He said, not losing the teasing smile. “And I’ve been thinking of some ways of tweaking it lately. So, I’m sure there will be—” 

“Ok! Ok! Deal, I’ll clean up your mess if you win,” you huffed cutting him off, “But if I win,” You pointing your finger at him with your eyes shining, “you finally have to watch the Pride and Prejudice mini series with me!” You exclaimed a big smile coming over your face.

“What? No! I can’t listen to old fashioned talking for that long!” He cried.

“Oh don’t be such a baby, it’s so worth it! Come on, Pete. Do we have a deal?” You asked.

“More than 6 hours of old fashioned drama for a single DDR dance?” Peter sighed dramatically, “Fine.” He held out his hand as he added, “Hope you're ready to deal with a web-filled disaster for a week.” 

“Please,” you scoffed while taking his hand, “Popcorn and hours of Colin Firth is where this is headed,” and just to mess with him you let some of your power flow through your hand, shocking him.

“Ow! Hey, no powers!” He whined as he rubbed his hand. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Spidey. You ready to get creamed on the dance floor?” You said, a competitive smile spread over your face as you stepped up to the dance space.

Soon enough the two of you were dancing, laughing and throwing some truly childish shade at each other. At one point, Peter had looked over at you and felt something starting to bloom in his chest. It filled him with a warmth that didn’t have anything to do with the physical exertion of dancing. You were laughing and your eyes were bright, and he just felt overwhelmed by the thought of you being alive next to him. He had had so many of these moments over the last two months that just reminded him of how much you meant to him. How thankful he was you were alive, and it wasn’t helping that each time he looked over, the feeling in his chest got stronger. It was all he could do to not tackle you in a hug. 

Once it was over and he had won—fair and square he might add—you had decided to pout over losing to him, and made your way over to sit by Nat and Wanda. You looked back at him and stuck your tongue out, making him laugh. You really were one of his favorite people...then, for some reason, that’s when the feeling in his chest seemed to explode, and it all made sense. 

He loved you. 

He loved you so much, he stopped breathing for a second.

All the pieces started to fall into place. His fear that horrible night, holding you in his arms and hearing your heartbeat weaken slowly, had been like the day his uncle died or with Tony, because he loved you. He had been petrified, knowing to his very core he’d never be quite whole again if he lost you.

He also knew he needed to tell you. If that night had taught him anything, it was that he was not going to waste a second of time with you. 

Which is why Peter was now sitting in the living room, acting like a nervous wreck, and hoping that he doesn’t actually puke due to nerves. 

He had decided when the two of you made plans to get ice cream together, he would tell you then. Except, he didn’t actually know how you felt about him. He knew you liked him, but could it ever be as more than a friend? It wasn’t something he had ever thought of. It certainly wasn’t something the two of you had ever talked about. So, he was freaking out that he was about to tell you something that would alter your whole relationship for better or for worse.

Nat was still sitting patiently waiting for Peter to speak. He had turned his head away and had seemed to have gotten lost in thought. His leg had started jiggling up and down again, so she reached over and put a hand on his knee. It stilled and he looked at her. This time, her eyes held more softness as she asked again, “Peter, what’s wrong?”

His worried eyes looked back at her. “I’m gonna tell Y/N, I love her…” He whispered cheeks going pinker than before.

Nat’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “I didn’t know you two had made it official.”

The statement caught Peter off guard. “What do you mean?”

Nat looked at him for a second, “Are you two not dating?”

“Oh, uh no. No, we’re not.” He mumbled looking down at the ground.

“But you still want to tell her you love her?” 

Peter took a big steadying breath, “She almost died that night,” He started quietly, “I still can’t get the thought of losing her out of my head. I was so scared that night, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been more relieved than when I found out she was going to be ok.

“Now, everytime I see her, I just want to be around her all the time. I don’t want to miss a moment of life with her, you know? And at first I thought that was normal after something like that night happened, but I don’t think it is. That’s when I realized it’s because I love her, and I feel like I need to tell her...I just don’t know what to expect when I do.” He finished and looked up at Nat, his tone just as quiet as it had been when he started. 

She stared back at him with a small smile that told Peter she knew something he didn’t, “Tell her what you just told me, and you don’t have to worry about it going badly.”

“How do you—” He was cut off when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Peter jumped up from the couch, butterflies raging in his stomach again as he looked towards the hallway’s entrance. Nat smirked and got up from the couch, leaving the room to give Peter and you privacy. 

When you rounded the corner, your eyes met his and a large smile spread across your face. Just looking at the way your eyes lit up made the butterflies in Peter’s stomach burst into flames as a new heat radiated through him. How could you be so beautiful?

“Hey, Pete! You ready for the world’s biggest brownie sundae?” You asked brightly as you made your way over to him.

“Uh, yea-yeah, I’m so ready. Couldn’t be more ready.” Peter stuttered out.

Your smile faltered slightly as you looked at him. “You, ok?” You asked lightly.

“Yeah, totally!” He said, mentally cursing how his voice came out higher than normal. He was hoping you wouldn’t notice, but of course, you did.

“Are you sure? Cuz we can get ice cream a different day.” You offered, this time placing your hand on his arm to reassure him it was ok to cancel.

The heat in his cheeks grew even more, and Peter hoped he didn’t look like a tomato. He really needed to calm down.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, “No, really, I’m ok. I still want to get ice cream.” 

You didn’t push him, just gave him one more searching look that Peter hoped wouldn’t see too much. He knew how well you could read him. 

You must have decided he would talk to you when he was ready because you nodded and looped your arm through his, and started to head for the door. “Ok, then let's go! I cannot wait to see how massive the brownie sundae actually is. MJ told me they give you an entire can of whipped cream, which sounds like heaven.” You rambled as the two of you made your way out.

On the way there, Peter was quiet for most of the ride into the City leaving you to do most of the talking while he listened. When you did let silence fall, it was filled with a kind of awkwardness and strain that was foreign in your relationship. He felt you throwing him glances from time to time, concern clearly present whenever you did. 

It wasn’t until you were just walking up to the ice cream parlor that you finally tugged on his arm to stop him.

“Pete?” You called softly.

He turned to look at you while casually saying, “What’s up?” He was trying to play it cool, even though he knew full well what you were about to ask.

“I know there’s something bothering you. What’s going on?”

Peter’s heart rate picked up slightly. He couldn’t tell you here, not randomly on the sidewalk, shouldn’t it have some romantic build up? He tried again to brush it off, “Nothing, come on. We need to get those sundaes!” He said, a little too energetic while turning to head to the door. He felt your hand slip off his arm. 

Once he got to the entrance of the ice cream shop, he looked back and saw you hadn’t moved. The look of genuine concern on your face told him you weren’t buying his act. 

He knew you weren’t going to push him to say anything. If he really wanted to he could ask you to drop it and you would, but something about doing that sat wrong with him.

The butterflies came back in full force as he realized this was the moment. He took a breath to steady himself, and shakily made his way over to you. His body buzzed with nerves. 

Looking at him as he made his way back in front of you, you seemed to notice the tells of his newly amped nerves which only increased the worry in your eyes. “Peter—” You started to say while raising your hands towards him, but Peter cut you off while grabbing your hands in his.

“I’m ok. I promise. I—I’m just nervous,” He gave you a very small smile. 

Confusion added itself to your concerned features as you asked, “Why?”

Peter looked down at your joined hands, “Because...Because I need to tell you something, but I’m really scared to do it.” He looked back up at you and his heart tugged in his chest as he met your y/e/c eyes. They had softened and held a warmth that he felt spreading through him, soothing his nerves just enough to breath.

“You can tell me anything, Pete. Nothing's going to scare me away. Not from you,” You spoke softly, squeezing his hands in encouragement.

A sweet smile started to make its way across his face as he stared at you, and soon he was lost in your eyes, in the sound of your heartbeat, and that familiar overwhelming sense of love for you flooded through him. Without thinking he breathed out, “I love you.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your eyes widened, and your smile dropped into a look of shock. If it hadn’t made his heart sink to his stomach Peter might have thought your face was comical. Instead, he started to panic as he watched your whole body freeze.

“Bu-but i-it’s ok if you don’t love me back!” He blurted out, which snapped you out of your shock enough to cut in before he continued talking.

“What? No, I—why wouldn’t I love you back?” You stuttered out.

It was Peter’s turn to freeze. Was there actually a chance you loved him back? His heart skipped a beat at the idea. He swallowed as he whispered, “Do you?”

You brought his hands up in yours and hugged them to your chest forcing him to come closer to you. Just inches apart, a soft sweet smile slowly spread across your face as you said, “Of course I do.”

Peter might have said the sun had exploded in his chest with how strongly the happiness spread through his body. The smile that made its way onto his face almost hurt it was so big. “Really? Y-You love me?” 

“I really really do, Peter.” You said smiling just as big as him now.

He let go of your hands and picked you up to spin you around. You squealed at the suddenness, and the two of you giggled when he set you back down. 

Your arms were around his neck now, hands playing with curls on the back of his head. You both stared at each other for a while, basking in this new euphoric feeling, until he noticed your stare flitting to his lips. Ever so subtly your head moved towards him and your lips brushed his in a tentative kiss before pulling back to make sure it was ok. Peter answered by crashing his lips into yours. 

You were new to each other so the kiss was slow and patient, and filled with what felt like a lifetime of emotions. He couldn’t believe how right this felt as he held you close. You tasted like peppermint, and your lips were soft against his. He really didn’t want the kiss to end, but eventually you broke away. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. 

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too.” You answered, brushing his nose with yours.

Suddenly, the ice cream parlor’s door swung open aggressively, causing the store’s bell to ring loudly. The two of you jumped apart at the sudden noise, and turned to see two kids running out of the building, giggling loudly with chocolate ice cream smeared over their faces. You smiled at them, and turned back to Peter.

“I think you still owe me a brownie sundae,” You said coyly. 

Peter chuckled and held out his hand for you to take, “One giant brownie sundae coming up.”

[amateurasstrologer]

BY REQUEST #11 CUSPS

What's the deal with cusps?

Logistics only: it means you were born on or near the transition from one sign to the next.

Seasons change, signs change. Yes, on the 22nd of September it’s nominally Fall, not Summer; around September 24th, we’re out of Virgo and into Libra. But it doesn’t feel like it’s Summer one day and suddenly Fall the next day, and it doesn’t feel like it’s Virgo one day and most definitely Libra the next day. These dates aren’t meant to be rigid, black-and-white boundaries - they all come with a period of transition where you’re getting a little taste of both. Summer is ending and Fall is beginning: the spiders come out, the leave start to change, the days get shorter, but gardens are still growing, the sun is still shining, and activity is still peaking. It’s a transitional period. The same shit goes for the signs - every sign has different dimensions, every degree has a distinct flavor. Cusps are just one of those dimensions - it’s when you’re coming up on a change, and anyone who’s ever experienced a change of any kind knows that shit is a process.

Now: your nature is your nature. If you’re a cusp baby, there’re going to be other things in your chart that support the same information the cusp placement is dishing out. The Sun represents your fuel - it keeps you motivated, it keeps your lights on, it keeps you on your shit, it keeps all this biz pushing. All a Cusp Sun placement means is that you’re getting that sweet sweet jolt of motivation from two places, instead of getting a concentrated dose from one place. Can other planets be on a cusp? Of course.

Listen: being on a cusp is not better than being in the middle of a sign - being in the middle of a sign is not better than being on a cusp. They’re just different. Everyone has different needs, everyone has different placements. Wherever your shit falls, it’s there for a reason and that reason is good, so stop being jealous and relax.

Which degrees are cusp degrees? How close to the edge do I have to be to fulfill my dream of being a cusp baby? Honestly, I don’t know, and I don’t care. Within 3 degrees, within 5 degrees, within 7 degrees? Whatever. You know what you feel to be true about you. It’s different for everyone, roll with it.

Go for Sun, go for Moon, go for any other planet or degree. These are qualities, they don’t change.

PISCES / ARIES The bitch is starting over - you’re not going to find a more intuitive, inner-activity placement than a Pisces / Aries cusp. You add all the “I gotta deal with myself” of Pisces with the “I gotta make a change” of Aries and you get someone who’s ready to tear apart the cycle like it’s scrap paper. Or you’re so self-centered that you can’t get a grip on reality - cycle on, sister.

ARIES / TAURUS The bitch is making it happen - intensity meets practicality in explosive combo of getting shit done. You’re pulling from Aries dank intuition bank and you’re matching it with Taurus’s desire to establish itself and you’re cooking up some seriously self-guided action. Or you’re so scared to fail that you’re living in a basement somewhere - I don’t know, man, it’s your call.

TAURUS / GEMINI The bitch is deconstructing - the transition from Taurus to Gemini has everything to do with understanding your conditioning - knowing your history and figuring out how it’s shaped your character. What’s gotta go, what’s gonna stay, and what’s really you. The potential to understand yourself and effectively utilize your skills is huge. Or you’re justifying some ruthless-ass behavior like it’s your full-time job - crushed it (and also crushed any chance of having healthy relationships).

GEMINI / CANCER The bitch is dealing with her feelings - you have Gemini’s untouchable perspective and Cancer’s self-understanding. Good luck finding a feeling or an experience that you can’t process, not gonna happen. Your identity is deeply felt and flexible - full-on camouflage, espionage, garage (overflowing with old personas). Or you’re acting superficial as shit and the most unaccountable - maybe change that ugly attitude instead?

CANCER / LEO The bitch is a fucking force - dripping energy like a perpetually broken faucet. There’s no turning these babies off, they’re meant to find a way to take their feelings and channel them into productive avenues. Ridiculous creative power. Or you’re just an emotionally underdeveloped hot mess - watch where you step, everyone.

LEO / VIRGO The bitch is also a fucking force but she’s not in your face about it until she is - take Leo’s intensity, cut it with Virgo’s repressed feelings, get an artistic soul. So many feelings, so little ability to communicate them. A never-ending story of ever-improving self-expression. Or you stuff that shit so far down geyser gazers flock from all over to watch you explode on the masses - better find a way to let it out.

VIRGO / LIBRA The bitch is ch-ch-ch-changing - this is an extremely emotional placement. There’s a lot of hidden shit and emotional activity going on here (thanks, Virgo). Better buy some Benadryl because these sweet babies are ready to shed - beliefs, values, identities, whatever - they’re here to nail down the best approach to life (thanks, Libra), and they’re ready to wipe out to figure it out. Or they’re victimizing themselves into a crusty shell of endless confusion and superficiality - nice.

LIBRA / SCORPIO The bitch is seeing how it’s all connected - Relational Queens, Scorpio is seeing the invisible strings that connect us with emotional x-ray vision and Libra is keeping those findings relevant and relatable. There’s no better placement for social and emotional understanding. Or they’re sipping on a crazy, almost disturbing mix of manipulation meets emotional doormat - just say it and stop fucking acting.

SCORPIO / SAG The bitch is looking to mind-meld - no one wants to share more than a bitch on the Scorpio / Sag cusp. Scorpio feelings with Sag sensibilities? Please - all they want is to get wrapped up in that blanket of acceptance so tight they can’t see themselves. Deep feeling, deep thinking, refreshing the missed connections page. Or they’re passive to the point of no return, turned side-stepping responsibility into an Olympic sport - hot.

SAG / CAPRICORN The bitch is dying to make it real - you take Sag’s ideologies and you throw in Capricorn’s reality hard on, and you get someone who is ready to lock that philosophy in and live it. Whatever goals they’ve decided to set, they’re achieving them. Showing you how it’s done every day of the week. Or they chose a whack-ass set of values and they’re locking in some shit ideals, shit relationships, a shit self-image - maybe reflect before you fire up the kiln and burn us all to death?

CAPRICORN / AQUARIUS The bitch is influencing you - socially minded collective guides. With Capricorn’s unadulterated power and Aquarius’s brilliance, these bitches are leading the trends, they’re that perfect blend of real and strange, endearing and influential. They got the goods, literally. Or they’re cynical, hateful-ass bitches with zero awareness of how their presence effects others - get over your inferiority complex and just run this shit.

AQUARIUS / PISCES The bitch is a true visionary - Critical, conceptual thinking meets technical skills meets collective needs meets subjective feeling and understanding. They’re dreaming up effective, creative solutions to societal problems. Or they’re saying, “Critical thinking? Reality? Effectiveness? Hm. Nah, let’s cut that bit completely aaand yes we’re a go for living in a conspiracy theory terror dream” - relax, nobody asked for all that.

Happy charting, you cuspy-ass bitches.

XO BULLSHIT FREE ASTROLOGY

[sinkix]

~ Haikyuu!! Boys baking with reader - Ft. Ushijima, Tendou, Oikawa, Hinata & Nishinoya ~

YO! SO UHHHH... I’M BACK??? I GUESS?? MAYBE??? After a little break I had this in my drafts for a while and realllyyy wanted to complete it since it’s such a cute concept. Honestly at this point my posting frequencies are so sporadic and random pls forgive me lmao.

@deathcab4daddy​ gave me the inspo to include Ushi and it was so funny coming up with ideas for him, he is no.1 country boi chef 

Dude I’m listening to the Mario Kart soundtrack ‘Coconut Mall’ while I continue writing this someone save me. Like u think I’m joking. UR WRONG.

Ushijima:

The most straightforward yet idiotic baker you will ever come across.

Before you even THINK about performing step 1, he will read the entire fucking leaflet like it’s a Shakesperean monologue.

INGREDIENTS INCLUDED.

LIKE SIS I DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW IT CONTAINS  MONOCALCIUM PHOSPHATE THANK YOU.

I’m surprised he doesn’t count every single particle in the brownie mix.

You bought him a frilly cupcake-printed apron stating ‘best wife’ not expecting him to actually wear it

But since he’s secretly a big softie and treasures anything you buy he wears it proudly.

His stoic and dignified disposition is a comical contrast to the words printed on the front lmao.

Ushi best wifey bro.

The tight fit of the apron is pretty hot since it outlines every ridge of his pecs and tightly toned torso.

Gotta resist groping your mans while stirring the brownie batter.

tbh he’s more likely to grope you, he can’t resist that a$$.

And let’s face it he’s def an ass/thigh kinda guy.

Can and will try to casually initiate some form of unholy activities by lifting you up onto the kitchen counter, goading you to slowly lick the spoon and locking gazes before pulling you in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss to get a taste of the incomplete creation himself.

Ushi’s lips and brownie batter are a knock-out combo js.

Literally has the most serious face when he’s cracking the eggs into the bowl

The amount of concentration is equivalent to that of when he’s performing a serve at match-point.

HAS to set the temperature to the EXACT degree stated on the box

Everything is done by the book if you do one thing out of place he will pull you up on it lol.

“(Y/N) you were supposed to stir it for 5 minutes, not 7.”

When its done you feed him some and he can’t help but smile its so ADORBALE AHHH.

You end up eating most of it since Ushi doesn’t strike me as much of a chocolate/junk food lover.

STILL A VERY FUN BUT F R U S T R A T I N G EXPERIENCE.

Tendou:

The complete opposite of Ushi

Does everything wrong and the unconventional way.

Absolute disaster but doesn’t even sweat it since Tendou basically thrives in chaos and the disorderly.

To him instructions are purely equivocal, will read them for five seconds then toss them away.

Step aside Gordon Ramsey, Chef Tendou is here.

Despite doing everything the unorthodox way it still comes out amazing.

Like??? how???

Will cheekily place a dollop batter on your nose then lick it off fh3jkeffefds

Or if he’s feelin’ a lil freaky, he’ll swipe it off with his long ass finger and make you suck it clean, smirking at your submission as you coat his finger with your saliva.

oop-

Constantly cracking jokes and shitty food puns, pretending to drop the bowl to make you go into preemptive cardiac arrest before you can swat him with the spatula.

While you’re waiting for the timer to ping, Satori being the schemer he is will use this as an opportunity to pull some fuckery and tease you in any way he can.

u better be praying like bodhisattva TanaNoya rn because he is MERCILESS.

Suggestive comments, the brush of his fingers against your thigh, it’ll leave you A C H I N G in frustration by the end of it.

Unholy activities aside, once your baking session is completed you finish it off by feeding PHAT forkfuls of brownie to each other and giggling like dorks when it gets all over your mouth.

The jackass actually got a fingerful and SMEARED it over your cheek and forehead, drawing a little cross and snickering when the crumbs fall onto your nose.

Tendou was smart to draw a cross bc he gonna need jesus with the ATTACK you launch on him after that, which promptly leads to an all out food war in your kitchen that neither of you want to clean up after ward.

Don’t worry though it’s Tendou, he’ll somehow find a way to make such a mundane activity fun.

Nishinoya:

stirs WAY TOO VIOLENTLY

IT’S LIKE AN ELECTRIC WHISK ON OVERDRIVE.

IT WILL SPLATTER OVER THE COUNTER, CUPBOARDS AND EVERYTHING YOU HOLD DEAR WITHIN A 1 MILE RADIUS.

You best believe he will try and eat some of the batter and you have to swat the spoon away from his mouth since he has NO REGARD FOR THE FACT HE COULD GET SALMONELLA.

Plus you know what Noya’s like once he starts eating something the whole thing will be gone in a matter of milliseconds.

He somehow managed to get Baking powder EVERYWHERE and even gave him self a little moustache with it.

The white substance kinda looked like something else but you didn’t really wanna say lmaooo.

could explain why he has so much energy all the time oK ILL STOP-

While you’re putting the mix on the tray he is SO extra and will do fancy lil swirls and over extend his arm like a swan to gracefully spread the batter

until he nearly fucking knocks it over.

During processing time since he is so excitable and impatient you best believe he’s gonna suggest a game of ping pong or something because my guy can well and truly never sit still.

ping pong match with the spatulas, kitchen island and a hard boiled egg.

Pls be careful he will rolling thunder that egg and pimp slap it so hard with the spatula it’ll damn near give you a concussion, not intentionally, but like protect your noggin. Wear a helmet.

For the remaining 5 minutes of baking time y’all just sit like kids in front of the oven and watching it rise like starved hyena’s observing it’s pray before demolishing it into sad particles of cocoa.

And lemme tell u, once the timer pings, that baking tray is free real estate for Noya. Half of your creation will be devoured before you can even put it on a plate and marvel at your handiwork. 

He kicked your ass at spatula ping pong btw I’m sorry sweaty but short kings stay winning.

Oikawa:

Such a dramatic bitch like he got the whole she-bang going on.

Strapped with a pink apron, a whisk at his side and standing proudly with both hands on his hips.He is prepared like a greek gladiator going into battle.

You better believe he gonna make some snarky remarks and tease your method of doing things. 

“Ah-ah-ahhh (Y/N)-chan you’re doing it all wrong, let me show you how a PRO does it.”

Proceeds to drop entire bowl on his foot and yelp like a little girl in pain.

Well and truly embarrassed with himself, you put a band-aid on his toe and he piped down after that.

Shattered big toe and mixing bowl aside, actually a really good baker??

He is a PRO at decorating, y’all decided on cupcakes since its literally his forte to make them look aesthetic and pretty.

You almost don’t wanna eat them from how good they look.

jk almost

You take it in turns breaking bits off and placing pieces into each others mouth with a loud “aaaaaahhh!”

Places a piece in your mouth, leans forward and locks lips with you in a soft, passionate kiss before pulling away and uttering the words “It tastes even better coming from your mouth ;)”

hnnnNNGGGGGGggGg.

You both whine and bicker over who cleans up after.

“You cleaaannnnn!”

“no Toru YOU clean!”

“but I made the cupcakes look pretty :(”

“not as pretty as you <3″

He did the cleaning after that.

Like just stroke his ego with some compliments and he’s whipped with a smug grin on his face for the next 30 minutes.

You decide to save the rest and bring them to his next practise.

Literally on the verge of tears when he sees you beaming and holding the platter of treats, Kiyotani mauls half of them in a matter of seconds to which Oiks gets salty over LMAO.

Hinata:

So excited oh my god he’s so precious please protect him I will CRY-

Has a little sunflower apron on and JBJKNDDDKDW IM SMILING JUST IMAGINING HIM FIDGETING IN EXCITEMENT OVER THE THOUGHT OF BAKING COOKIES.

Yes you decided on cookies bc he goes rabid for some choc chip biccies.

You have to guide him v carefully because of how easily confused and clumsy he is.

Cannot for the life of him crack the eggs without getting a quarter of the shell in the bowl so you have to do it instead.

Has a surprising amount of strength and forearm power bc holy shit boy can stir FAST.

Hums a little tune while he does it and bobs up and down with a wide grin on his face it’s so adorable, he has such a gentle singing voice I can’t-

Attempts different shapes with the batter when pouring it onto the tray but fails pretty miserably lol.

he tried ok???

Once they’re done he takes the tray out of the oven and since it was heavy, subconsciously propped it with his knee and nearly dropped the entire tray from the pain. (I’ve actually done this before when making chicken nuggets I do not advise being that brain dead)

Had to put some burn cream on the bbies knee :’((

When you decided to dig in, he handed you a cookie that looked like a crooked circle and said he tried to make that one a heart and insisted he feed it to you.

Blushed VERY hard at the moment of silence and intense eye contact while he fed it to you.

Nearly short circuited when his fingers brushed against your lips.

Moe moe x100000000000000000000000000000

You offer to do the cleaning after because he hurt himself and you didn’t wanna make him do any work, but he still offered to wipe the surfaces for you bc he’s an angel <333

literally just wanna marry him.

[soundofseventeen]

We Belong Together (Part Five)

Hi! I finally bring you Woozi! I am also here with erin! (not irl but we still skying, lmao)

Word count: 1416

Jihoon wasn’t sure who gave his bandmates permission to use his house to get read, especially so early in the morning, but he was still in bed, listening to everyone’s footsteps. (Mingyu...or Minghao probably invited them. He was pretty sure that had to do with the fact they owned just about everything that helped them prepare for special occasions) Some were running between rooms, searching for god knows what and some just walked to where they needed to go. He could hear Jun and Seungcheol fighting over who was gonna shower in the spare bathroom (next time they decided to move into a bigger dorm, a third bathroom was definitely a requirement.) And then he heard them cursing at Dino, followed by a slam so he pieced together that the youngest beat them to it.

He tossed and turned for a couple more minutes, hoping to sleep the day away, or even just half. He hated that the sleeping pills he took the night before had little effect on him. He threw the comforter over his head, groaning and hoping he could drown out the noise to have some kinda peace before announcing his presence, but when Hoshi accidentally walked into his room, backed out slowly and closed the door a little harder than necessary, he sat up again, looking for something to throw at his best friend when he saw him, but he didn’t find anything. He hated when one of the boys went into a cleaning frenzy and left nothing in their wake.

Jihoon put on his favorite robe, the only thing he kept in good condition since his trainee days and his newest slippers that he received as a birthday present from...he couldn’t even remember who anymore. He wasn’t prepared for the mountain of clothes littering the hallway, and tripping over a belt in the process but he finally made it to the kitchen where Seungkwan and Joshua were sitting at the table, sipping their coffees and gossiping over whatever was on Seungkwan’s phone. Jihoon nodded at them and poured himself a mug, and although he enjoyed the warmth of it, he didn’t like how this was the coffee you got him hooked on once upon a time and eventually became his favorite. He could remember many times when you’d go out of your way to bring this to him when other brands didn’t cut it for him and how he threatened the members if they had some without his permission, and how you had to smuggle some so he wouldn’t kill them.

“Good morning Hyung,” Seungkwan greeted him happily when he sat next to them.

“Morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

Jihoon nodded. “Same as every other time.” He had a sip, hating the flavor and he wanted nothing more than to throw it in the sink and buy a different brand. One that different leaves bitter taste in his mouth, no pun intended.

Joshua smacked the younger boy, either to get him to shut up or to focus on what was happening, but either way, he didn’t acknowledge him again.

He did notice that while Seungkwan was sweaty, he hadn’t showered and probably wouldn’t until everyone did. Joshua was also still in his most comfortable attire, not seeming in a rush to get ready anytime soon.

While many other times, he reveled in the silence when he was around his friends, today it seemed too much so he headed into the living room to play a video game. He tried acting as unbothered as possible, focusing more on knocking out his opponent in Mortal Kombat so he could proceed to the next level. Every so often the doorbell would ring and then he’d hear a new voice greeting him and then running into a room. At one point, Soonyoung walked out of the bathroom, dripping wet, sans towel, asking if they had more shampoo because the bottle ran out. 

Though he didn’t miss the glares Soonyoung threw at him. Jihoon knew that his best friend’s long simmering anger would eventually erupt and he knew he’d have to take it all until they could be on good terms again. Soonyoung hadn’t been particularly warm towards Jihoon since he found out you’d gotten engaged to Jooheon and he probably heard every conspiracy theory that Hoshi had spewed, trying to see what really happened. Though it wasn’t fair to you or him, he merely said it didn’t work out between you.

He sighed in frustration, trying to concentrate. He would not focus on the betrayal of his brothers ditching him. He had much better things to do than to think of why they were leaving, like work on his music, and go to the new ramen place that opened up. He could ask Beomju if he wanted to….no, Beomju already had plans to go too. Whatever, he didn’t want to hang out with him anyway. Jihoon could also reorganize his bedroom space. It needed a serious cleaning….actually, he didn’t want to touch anything. Some of your stuff was still mixed in with it and he wasn’t sure what you’d still need. He wasn’t petty enough to burn your belongings, but he also wasn’t a big enough person to return them to you in person. He hadn’t seen you in awhile and he thought it’d be weird if he just showed up out of the blue, especially because he wouldn’t be in the state to remain calm. The mere thought often sent him into a panic or anger attack, and then he’d mope. Well, not mope, but he’d eventually spiral into a web of things that made no sense and he’d try tto figure the riddle out.

Chan sat down next to him, brushing his teeth while trying to style his hair. “Hyung, aren’t you gonna get ready yet?” The foamy paste was all over his mouth and Jihoon hoped it wouldn’t get on anywhere except the sink.

“I’m not going,” he said simply, more focused on how to survive the round without taking any more hits. “I have to work on my music after this and possibly move things around in the studio. It’s gonna be a busy day.” When his opponent delivered the fatal blow on screen, he threw the controller on the floor with a little more force than necessary, scaring Chan. “Goddamn it!”

“Hyung,” he said quietly, “are you okay?”

“Yeah! I’m fine. I’m just hungry. Do you want anything? Are you sure? I offered.”

Jihoon stood up, stretching in the process and then made his way to the kitchen where he found Jeonghan helping Wonwoo with his contacts. At this he sighed in annoyance. Since when were you important enough that Wonwoo would ditch his glasses? You always said Wonwoo should be comfortable with you at all times, no matter the time, place, or occasion. 

“Don’t move so much or I’m gonna poke your eye,” Jeonghan warned.

“It burns. This probably wasn’t a good idea.”

No shit. “Is it even necessary?” Jihoon found himself asking. “No one’s gonna care either way. It’s not like we’re having this epic concert….” he trailed off awkwardly, realizing it wasn’t his place to critique his friend.

“Ahh, the rumor’s true. You’re really not going.”

He shook his head at Jeonghan, giving him the same excuse. “I’m busy. Things to do and deadlines to meet.”

Wonwoo patted Jeonghan’s shoulder in thanks and the older boy disappeared with a wan smile directed at both. “Let me go see if anyone needs help adjusting their ties. Wonwoo, I’ll have the solution in my pocket for when you need it. Jihoon….just don’t overwork yourself.”

Wonwoo then decided to turn his attention to the producer, walking towards him until he turned Jihoon around and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, hugging his back. 

“What are you doing?”

“You look like you need a hug so I’m giving you one.” Wonwoo rocked him side to side, humming whatever came to his head.

“Why? Nothing’s wrong. I’m not sick or dying.” Jihoon resisted the urge to break away from him.  Why couldn’t anyone see that he was okay? Sure, he was gonna be by himself for the day and no one was gonna check in on him, but he was a grown man.

Wonwoo squeezed his shoulders once more before letting go. “Why couldn’t you just have gotten your shit together?”

At that, he had no response, because he wasn’t sure if it was his question to answer.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Two of Souls

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

Ohhhh boy this is a long one. And there’s not even that much action! I started out intending it to be some catching up with the boys and some exposition, but shit happens, I guess. Hopefully it’s as interesting to others as it is to me haha. So now that the boys are in this supposedly safe place with the magicians, what’s next? What’s the deal with those strings? And what about Jackie and Marvin? Find out here!

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read where it started: Stitched Together | Season One | Season Two

Previous Season Three stories: Torn Apart | Tales to Tell | Threads | Twice Bitten, Never Shy

Taglist (finally): @bupine​ @violet--majesty @ari-trash

With a small ding! the doors to the elevator opened, and Jack stepped out onto the ground floor. He looked left, then right, then down at the note in his hand. ‘Investigating Storage Room 1, first floor, 3:00. On the right side, look for nameplate.’

They’d been in the Sanctuary for almost two weeks now. There had been no sign of trouble, but none of them had dared leave the building anyway. The result was a mixture of stress and boredom. But yesterday, something finally happened. Yvonne met with them and said that the magicians had finally gotten around to analyzing the strings. After some talking, Jack had volunteered to meet up with the magicians and relay the information back to the others. Of course, now that he was here he was feeling somewhat nervous, but he pushed that aside.

Folding the note and putting it in his pocket, Jack turned right and soon found the door they had directed him to, identifiable by a nameplate on the wall nearby. At a glance, it didn’t look too different from any other door in the Sanctuary. It didn’t have any of the numbers that the hotel-like rooms did, but then again, not all of them did. He wouldn’t have paid any attention to it at all, which might’ve been the point.

After a couple seconds, the door opened, revealing Delyth standing there. “Oh good, you’re here,” she said. “You’re early.”

Jack laughed nervously. “Well, I wanted to make sure, y’know? Is being early a problem?”

“No, not at all. Please, come inside.” Delyth stepped away so that Jack could walk into the room, closing the door behind him as soon as he had.

Contrary to its door, the room beyond was much stranger than the rest of the Sanctuary. It was dimly lit, with only a few lamps dangling from the ceiling casting concentrated beams of yellow light onto the floor. Not that there was much floor space at all. The room was filled with boxes. Neatly stacked, bigger ones on the bottom, all made out of metal with a coppery sheen. Each box had a label and what looked like a colorful warning symbol, like the sort that was put onto hazardous materials. Jack couldn’t remember if the symbol had a specific name, but he remembered it was a diamond made of four colors. These symbols were similar, except they were circular, divided into four colorful sections with another circle in the center.

In the middle of the room was a table. Delyth was quick to guide Jack over towards it. Yvonne was already there, as well as an older man with dark hair and a beard, both of which looked like they’d been hit by lightning. The man was wearing a coat that was decorated like a labcoat, but dark blue and with a symbol of a four-pointed star on the lapel. Oh the table was one of the coppery boxes, about the size and shape of a shoebox, and a strange device with several large lenses attached.

“Jack, this is Mr. Griffin, he’s one of the wizards studying at this Sanctuary,” Delyth explained.

“Pleasure to meet you, young man,” the older man said in a precise British accent.

Jack couldn’t help but stare. “Uh, yeah, the pleasure’s all mine. You...you’re a wizard, then?”

“I’m not what you were expecting, I understand,” Griffin laughed. “It’s alright, I get that reaction a lot, I’m very used to it.”

Jack laughed a bit as well. “Well, as long as I’m not the first.” He sighed, then returned to the seriousness of the moment. “Anyway, what’ve you found?”

“Well, I’ve examined these strings—”

“We’ve examined them,” Yvonne interrupted. “I helped, don’t forget.”

“Yes, Bell has been very helpful,” Delyth said, sounding as though she’d rather not admit it. “Her knowledge as a soul magician is valuable.”

Yvonne puffed herself up proudly.

“Anyway, we’ve examined them,” Griffin continued. He tapped the side of the box, and Jack leaned forward to look at it. The box actually had a lid, though he hadn’t noticed it since it was made of glass, giving a clear look into the inside of the box. The strings tangled about, writhing like worms and slamming against the sides. “These are not actually physical strings.”

“They’re not physical?” Jack asked, confusion obvious. “But...they can, like, touch things. Interact with them.”

“That’s true, but they’re not made of actual matter,” Griffin explained. “You see, magic can become solid, if concentrated enough. So they’re more like energy than anything else.”

“I...but...isn’t there a thing about how you can’t touch energy? Isn’t that what e=mc2 is all about? Something like that?”

“Magic follows its own rules,” Delyth said. “Just accept that if you take enough magic together, it can become a tangible thing.”

Jack nodded slowly. He figured it was best not to think about this too much. “Okay. So they’re just magic?”

“They’re more than just magic, actually,” Griffin said, suddenly grave. “They’re very dark magic.”

Delyth nodded. “From what we’ve figured out, the strings were most likely caused by a black magic spell backfiring. Terribly backfiring.” She sighed. “That’s the cost of dark magic. It may seem easy, but when it goes wrong, it goes wrong in a big way. Not to mention the effect it’ll have on a magician’s mind and soul.”

“A spell backfiring...” Jack muttered. “We...thought that Marvin and Jackie cast a spell. And we thought that it went wrong, too.” He paused. “Transference.”

“It’s all my fault!” Yvonne suddenly blurted out. She slammed her hands on the table, looking pale. “That book was in my shop. Marvin saw it, he wanted to borrow it, and I-I didn’t think anything of it! When he gave it back, it looked fine, but he could’ve easily copied—”

“Bell!” Delyth looked shocked. “You had a book with a transference spell in your shop?”

“Yeah,” Yvonne mumbled. “I thought it would sell for a lot. I never would’ve dreamed it could lead to all...all this. If I knew, I never would’ve stocked it.”

“You shouldn’t have been selling a book with that spell in the first place!” Delyth scolded. “Think of all the harm it could do!”

“Well, it’s not really my fault if someone wants to buy it, is it, Mae?” Yvonne said angrily. “If someone showed up looking for a book like that, then they knew exactly what they were doing. There are warnings with each spell and they’re very descriptive, if anything happened, it was on them!” She stopped, then slowly deflated. “At least, that’s what I thought at the time. If I knew...if I knew...”

“There’s never just one person responsible for a spell backfiring,” Griffin said. “Nor the consequences of it. Your Marvin friend shouldn’t have used the spell in the first place.”

Yvonne took a deep, shaky breath. “A-anyway, that’s what the strings are probably from. That spell going tops-up.”

Jack was silent for a moment, watching the strings in the box as they wriggled. “But...okay, if they’re just magic, that’s fine. But why are they moving? Why do they...it seems like they always make a beeline for Jackie and Marvin, why is that?”

“Ah. Well...” Griffin paused, stroking his beard. “This is where Ms. Bell comes into play.”

“Right.” Yvonne straightened her shoulders, collecting herself. “Jack, this—” She patted the device with the lenses “—is one of the many tools we use in soul magic. We, uh, don’t really know what souls are, to be honest. But we know that with this, we can at least see them. It helps us visualize souls into something more...tangible.” She slid two of the lenses into place and angled them so that Jack could look through them at the strings. “Go on, have a peek.”

Jack hesitated, then leaned over. He gasped. His view of the strings had suddenly been magnified by a thousand percent. He could see that the glowing strings were actually woven together of smaller threads, which appeared translucent when looked at individually. Caught in the woven threads, too small for anyone to see with the naked eye, were tiny, broken lights. Blue and red. They couldn’t have been bigger than dust motes, and there weren’t that many of them, but they shined with light.

“This is...kinda fucked up, honestly,” Yvonne said. “The bits of light you’re now seeing are actually bits of...soul.”

“Holy fuck...” Jack had to take a step back.

“I used a similar device to look at Marvin when he was at my flat,” Yvonne explained. “And his soul looked...broken. My only thought is that when he and Jackie performed the transference, both their souls were broken. And bits of them got mixed in with these strings, which must be the magic cast by the transference. It probably had nowhere to go, so it solidified.”

“That...that must be the case,” Jack breathed. “I mean, they’re even the same colors.”

Silence.

Jack, noticing the sudden quiet, looked around. All the magicians were staring at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“What do you mean...colors?” Delyth asked.

“The, uh, the lights are red and blue. Just like Marvin and Jackie’s souls,” Jack explained.

“Wh—” Yvonne choked.

“You can...can you see souls?” Griffin asked.

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Jack tapped the area below his left eye. “Only with this eye, though. JJ and I think that when he used his magic to replace the one I lost, it kind of overcompensated.”

“And...these souls have colors?” Griffin asked again, looking very interested in this.

“Yeah. Of course.” Jack looked back and forth at the others. “Are they...not supposed to?”

“Even with the Lens, all souls appear colorless,” Yvonne said in a hushed tone. “Even to soul magicians like me. They’re all...white light.”

“Oh. I guess...I’m special, then? Because they definitely have color to me.” Jack closed his right eye. “Yeah, I can see all yours now. Delyth’s is purple like her magic, Yvonne’s is blue with a bit of purple, Mr. Griffin’s is bright, and I mean bright, yellow, and mine is green. Huh. Also all yours are kinda...sparkly? Mine isn’t. Yours kinda looks like how JJ’s is, but different.”

“Wait, can you see—are you maybe seeing our magic?” Griffin gasped. “That’s incredible!”

“Uh, thanks, I guess. I had no say in it.” Jack opened his eye and laughed. “It’s a bit ironic that I can see all these colors and you guys can’t, I’m actually slightly colorblind.”

“Okay, but the soul bits in the strings match Marvin’s and Jackie’s,” Yvonne hurried to say. “The colors here are the same as the colors of their souls?”

“Yeah.”

“That confirms it, then,” Delyth nodded. “The strings are attracted to them due to having parts of them inside. They want to be reunited.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing in principle,” Yvonne said slowly. “Except for the fact that Marvin got a lot more angry and attack-y once some of those strings got together with him.”

“I suspect that’s the black magic,” Griffin said.

“Okay, but is there any way to get rid of them?” Jack asked, a desperate note in his voice. “These fucking strings are causing all sorts of trouble.”

“Hmm.” Griffin furrowed his brow and looked up at the ceiling. “I know we looked into that, but I think I left the notes in the other room.” He reached down and tapped the top of the box. It turned an opaque, coppery color, the same as all the rest. “I could go get them now, if you’d like.”

“Nah, that’s fine, I could go get them if you want.” Jack took a few steps back. 

“Oh. Well, if you’re offering, then that would be great, thank you,” Griffin nodded. “They should be next door, in the Investigative Room. I doubt I left them in a drawer or anywhere, so they’re probably out on a surface.”

“Alright.” Jack turned around. “I’ll see you later, then.” He hurried to leave. Those strings...he wasn’t eager to spend much more time with them.

— — — — — — —

There was a wide open area in the basement of the Sanctuary. At first glance, it looked like a gymnasium, except without the bleachers and basketball hoops. It was also much bigger, with a small climbing wall at one end, an archery shooting range at the other, and a wall in between lined with strange perforations. Delyth explained it was made for agents who wanted to practice spells in their spare time. However, it had sat empty for the entire time they’d been here. But that was fine. Schneep actually preferred it empty.

He pushed open the doors to the room, automatically tensing, searching for anyone. He didn’t think anyone was there. Or at the very least, that strange sixth sense that let him know when people were around was telling him the room was empty as always. He sighed, relaxing, and walked into the approximate center of the room.

Now that things were relatively peaceful—well, actually, that was a stretch, it was better phrased as “now that there was no one actively trying to kill them”—he’d thought it would be best to practice this magic of his. Strange, how things had changed to the point where he readily accepted his new magical abilities, when just a few years ago he would’ve denied it to the ends of the earth. Schneep laughed to himself. Well, time flies.

He started this practice by summoning and vanishing his scissors a couple times. It was still unclear where they came from and went off to when he wasn’t using them. All he knew was that if he reached to the side he could feel their handles, seemingly hovering in midair right where he needed them. Perhaps the scissors were stored in some sort of pocket dimension that only he could access. 

What was interesting was that other things could come from this pocket dimension. Shortly after arriving at the Sanctuary and getting frustrated with the unfamiliar layout, Schneep had wished for something that could help him know where things were. He’d reached out, and suddenly found something there. A long, thin stick, that could extend in length. Bringing it to Jack confirmed his suspicions: it was a cane. Exactly what he’d needed. Unusual, he thought, that he’d found it at the exact moment he was thinking about it. Perhaps the pocket dimension could provide what he wanted? But it didn't provide anything other than the scissors and the cane so far. Well, he was still working on that theory.

Second matter of business. Simple jumps, to get him warmed up. That was what he decided to call this teleporting or whatever it was. The act of walking somewhere and having the world around him change, so he was somewhere else entirely. It was sort of like portals, except Schneep didn’t need a fancy gun to jump, he just did it at will.

He jumped back and forth across the width of the room a couple times, touching the wall to orient himself. Then across the length. Then from corner to corner. He never really got tired from the jumping. And last practice, he realized it didn’t even need to be on solid ground. Though that had been an accident, and he’d ended up landing flat on his face. Moments like that were why he practiced alone.

Schneep paused for a moment, reaching out to feel the base of the climbing wall. Perhaps...? Bracing himself, he took a step forward, and ended up not on the floor, but falling through the air. Fear instantly shot through him, and he waved his arms wildly until his hands brushed against something. That texture—! He tried to grab, and—

“Ow!” Schneep gasped. His arm felt like it was being yanked out of its socket. His fall was suddenly stopped when he managed to find one of the climbing wall’s holds, but the sudden change of speed had caused a shot of pure pain through his shoulder. God, he hoped that wasn’t dislocated.

Kicking his legs a bit, he managed to jump back down to the floor, where he immediately started rubbing his shoulder. He’d been aiming for the flat bit at the top of the climbing wall, but it appeared he missed. Luckily he was close enough to find that hold, otherwise he’d have to deal with falling all the way to the floor. Even though the climbing wall was half the size of most, it was still twenty feet tall.

Schneep didn’t allow himself to pause. He wanted to try one more thing before stopping for the day. Walking over to the side, he found the perforated wall of the gym area, and walked along it until he found a control panel. There was a touchscreen on it, which wasn’t much use to him, but there was also a button and a dial. He’d asked Delyth about it earlier, and she explained the button was to start or stop the “course” and the dial was to time it, with the maximum being thirty minutes. Twisting the dial, he set it to about five minutes, then hit the button.

“Projectile training course set for: four minutes.” An automated voice rang out through the gym area. “There is: one minute before start time.”

“Alright, here we go.” Schneep took a deep breath, and jumped back to the middle of the room, tensing with anxiety. He’d have to be careful here.

“Thirty seconds remaining before the projectile course fires,” said the automated voice. Then after a while. “Ten seconds remaining. Nine. Eight.”

Schneep bounced on his feet, ready to move at any moment.

“Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three.”

There was a slight humming sound coming from the wall. He braced himself.

“Two. One. Firing.”

The darts of magic started to fire, each hole making a chnk! sound as they shot and the darts themselves causing a whhst! sound as they passed through the air. Schneep started moving, listening carefully for the noise of each one firing and flying forward. He started running, then skidded to a halt as there was a chnk! from a space near him. The dart whizzed past his face in a gust of air. He ducked just in time to avoid another, then turned around and jumped to what sounded like a safe spot.

Four minutes was not a very long time, but it certainly felt that way as Schneep dodged, ducked, and jumped across the room. He tried not to think too much, just listen and notice the small signs of the nearby darts. Eventually he got into a rhythm, jumping whenever he heard several chnk!s in the area around him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Soon, one of the darts hit him in the leg and broke his concentration. “Ah!” He instinctively leaned down to clutch at the spot, but that just brought him right into the path of another whhst! “Fick!” And everything broke down from there as a quick barrage of about a dozen darts soon knocked him to the ground. He jumped to another area, only to get knocked right in the chest the moment he arrived and knocked down once again.

“Projectile course finished,” the automated voice said. “Thank you for participating.” A loud beep signaled the end of the course.

Schneep sighed. He wasn’t sure what those darts were, other than pure magic, but he knew that they hurt. It reminded him of the time Chase had dragged him to a paintball match, and he was sure that there would be similar bruises left over. Wincing, he climbed to his feet. “Need more practice on that,” he said to himself.

Well, there was always tomorrow. He turned and headed for the nearest wall, following it to the exit.

— — — — — — —

“Chase. Chase. Chase. Chase. Chase.”

Ignoring the repeated, nagging sound of his own name, Chase rolled over and pulled the blanket over his face. What time was it? Probably sometime in the afternoon, judging by the light coming in from the bedroom window. Also, who opened the window? The curtains at the Sanctuary were pretty good for blocking out light, they must be open if he could see light even behind his eyelids. Good thing this bed had thick blankets, too.

“Chase. Chase. Chase.” Now something was poking him with every repetition. It soon became something shaking him. “Chase. Chase.”

Finally realizing he wasn’t going to stop, Chase groaned and pushed away the covers. He opened his eyes and looked over to see Jackie standing by the side of the bed. Staring at him. Was he...was he there the whole night? Because apparently he didn’t sleep anymore—or at least, not as much, and not when Chase or JJ were watching. The thought was...disturbing. “What is it, Jackie?” he asked, sighing.

Jackie didn’t answer for a while, just blinked. It was a solid thirty seconds before he asked, “When are we leaving?”

Chase had been about to go back to sleep, but that question sent a shot of nerves through his heart that woke him right up. “Um...I don’t know. Wh-why? Do you want to go somewhere?”

“I need to find the rest of us,” Jackie said insistently. “I know I’m out there, but I can’t tell where.”

“...right.” Chase sat up. “Well, uh...I mean, is this really that importa—”

“Yes.”

Chase fell silent. There were moments when Jackie just acted a bit unusual, but there were also too many moments like this, moments that left him with a crawling feeling across his skin, and he could see how Jackie was once part of Anti. “Um...okay.” Chase inched away. “Well, I don’t know when we’re leaving, so don’t ask me.”

Jackie looked disappointed, but wandered away to look out the window. Chase paused, then glanced at the clock on the wall. 3:00 on the dot. He sighed. It was pretty late, but given how he hadn’t gone to bed until six in the morning last night and had trouble getting to sleep once he did, he wanted to pull the covers up and try to get another hour or two. But he was also pretty hungry, so he should get some food while he had the energy to. So he climbed out of bed and left the room.

The magicians had been providing them with groceries when they asked, as well as anything else they needed. Chase left the bedroom, waving a hello to JJ sitting on the living area’s sofa, and headed straight for the kitchenette. He opened one of the cupboards and took out a box of cereal. The brand was unfamiliar, something generic and probably store-brand, but the bits of cereal were coated in sugar and that’s what mattered. He took out a bowl and spoon and poured.

“You should take a shower.”

Chase yelped, spilling some of the cereal, and looked up to see Jackie had followed him and was now standing in the middle of the living room and watching him. “Jesus, don’t do that,” Chase breathed, setting down the cereal box.

“I don’t think you’ve used the shower since we’ve been here,” Jackie continued. “That’s not good.”

“Uhh...” Chase leaned to the side so he could see JJ around Jackie.

JJ set down his book—something that Yvonne had given him a few days ago—and said, Well he’s not wrong. But anyway, can you handle this right now?

Chase nodded slowly, then leaned back into place and looked at Jackie. “I think I’m fine, Jackie. It’s not like I smell or anything. Uh...right?”

“You lie in bed a lot,” Jackie said bluntly. “Has that always been a thing with you? I think it has, for some time. I remember that. You should at least move to somewhere else. Actually use the other rooms.”

And then sometimes there were these moments. Moments where Jackie seemed almost normal, talking in the same way and giving the same advice he did years ago, before that black magic spell had killed him and created Anti. Honestly, these moments made the whole situation creepier. Chase took a moment to respond. “Well...maybe I will take a shower, then.”

“That’s a start.” Jackie’s eyes slowly drifted to the side, and then he turned away, walking around the room in an aimless manner.

JJ waved in Chase’s direction for his attention. You alright?

Chase let out a breath, and nodded. Yeah, I’m fine. He responded in sign. They’d learned from experience over the last two weeks that Jackie would butt in on the conversation if Chase started talking out loud.

Jameson raised an eyebrow. His expression was hard to read under his new mask—this one was black, and had also been provided by the magicians once he’d asked for one—but if Chase had to guess, it was probably concerned. I was thinking maybe if we switched places, he might give you a break.

You mean if you pretended to be me? I’m pretty sure he’d be able to tell. We have some very obvious identifying features.

JJ huffed. I suppose you’re right. And we can’t get Jack or Henrik to do that, since the same can be said for them. Maybe if Henrik covered up his scars?

I get the feeling he’d be able to tell anyway. Chase sighed, and headed for the fridge, grabbing the milk. He was turning back around when he noticed it. Jackie had suddenly stopped walking and was now standing, shoulders tensed, in the middle of the room. “Um...Jackie? Are you alright?”

Jackie didn’t respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked right to the door, opening it and leaving the room.

“Wh—Jackie!” Chase put the milk down on the nearest counter, JJ stood up, and the two of them quickly followed him into the hallway.

Jackie had taken a turn to the left, moving quickly and purposefully towards the stairs at the end of the hall. “Hey! Jackie!” Chase and JJ broke into a run. Jackie glanced over his shoulder, then started sprinting as well, reaching the stairwell in no time.

“Stop!” Chase paused in the entrance to the stairwell, watching as Jackie ran down the stairs two at a time. “Where the hell are you going?!”

JJ pulled up next to him. Should I stop him? He flicked his fingers, making a blue disc of magic appear.

Chase shook his head. “No, let’s follow him first.” And they started running again.

Jackie headed down all three flights of stairs to the ground floor, pausing for a moment as if getting his bearings before taking the right hallway. “Wh...what?” Chase panted. That hallway would only lead deeper into the Sanctuary. What could he possibly want down here? He glanced over at JJ, who looked just as confused.

From farther down the hall, they heard a “What the—” and then someone screamed.

Jameson’s eyes widened. Isn’t that—

Chase immediately broke into a dead sprint.

Farther down the hall, a door was swinging wildly, and someone was lying on the floor as if they’d been knocked over. A few loose papers were scattered around. Chase gasped. “Jack!” He hurried to his friend’s side and helped him stand up. “Are you okay?!”

“Fine,” Jack said shortly, rubbing his arm. “Was that—was Jackie just here?”

“Yeah, ran all the way down here,” Chase said. “What were you doing here?”

“It was that thing, that thing about the, uh, strings,” Jack explained.

Jameson, having just caught up in time to hear that statement, looked shocked. He whirled towards the swinging door and grabbed hold of it, rushing inside.

“Did he go in there?” Chase asked, also pointing at the door.

“Uh, I think so?” Jack gasped slightly. “But that’s where—”

A loud clattering sound came from inside. Jack and Chase glanced at each other, then ducked into the room.

Inside, Jackie was struggling with the three magicians already inside. Yvonne had her arms wrapped around his, while Delyth’s eyes were lit up purple and her hands held out in a defensive position. Griffin clutched the copper box with the strings inside, holding it protectively while JJ covered him with a shield. A stack of other boxes had been knocked over and were now strewn across the floor.

“What’s going—Jackie, stop!” Chase stepped in front of Jack. “You’ll hurt them!”

“I d̛on't ̛ca̛rè,” Jackie hissed. “Give me back!”

“You two get out of here!” Delyth said to Jack and Chase. “This could get messy.”

“No—” Jack started to protest.

There was a flash of red light, and Yvonne suddenly cried out. She stumbled backward, now bleeding from a cut that had appeared across the left side of her face. With his arms free, Jackie lunged towards Jameson and Griffin, eyes fixed on the box. Jameson threw his hands forward, and the shield expanded outward, pushing Jackie to the ground. He hissed again and made a sharp gesture. A slice of red light cut through the air and right through Jameson’s shield, making it flicker and die. Jackie started forward again, only for Delyth to block him with a crystalline shield of her own.

“Fuck this!” Yvonne wiped the blood out of her eye and lunged right at Jackie, managing to grab him again. He shrieked, the sound full of rage, and more red light flashed. Yvonne suddenly dropped again. She clutched her leg, which was now bleeding.

“I said for you to get out!” Delyth snarled. “This is danger—”

There was a sudden, almost inaudible snap! sound, and then there was another person in the room. Schneep appeared directly behind Jackie, hitting him hard on the back of his head with the butt of a cane. Jackie crumpled to the floor, clearly breathing but now unconscious. Schneep let out a long breath. “Please say that was the correct thing to do,” he muttered.

“Hen! That was—where’d you come from?” Jack gasped.

“I was passing by,” he explained. “On the way to the elevator back to the rooms, which may I say, very inconvenient to have an elevator just to get to the basement, but it worked out this time. I could tell there was a fight, so I decided to step in.”

“Wait, how’d you know to hit Jackie?” Delyth asked, lowering her shield. “I thought you were blind.”

“I am. Do you not see this?” Schneep waved the cane in her general direction. “But it seems part of my magic is knowing where people are. And who they are, too. Which is very lucky.”

Jameson clapped his hands for attention. May I suggest we continue this conversation after getting this young lady some medical care? 

“Yes, great suggestion,” Yvonne said. “I am bleeding quite significantly.” Her tone said it was a joke but her face betrayed her real worry.

Delyth sighed. “Yes, of course. There’s a small clinic with supplies further down the hall. We’ll finish this up in there.”

— — — — — — —

It didn’t take too long for them all to relocate to the clinic and get Yvonne taken care of. They also took Jackie there as well, setting him down on one of the clinic’s three beds. Once Yvonne’s wounds were wrapped up, everyone immediately returned to the  matter at hand. Chase and JJ explained how Jackie had suddenly left the room and ran downstairs, and Jack told the others the information about the strings he’d found out just before Jackie appeared.

“Did he somehow sense the strings, perhaps?” Schneep speculated. “But then why hadn’t he reacted before? They’ve been here the whole time.”

“That may be my fault,” Griffin admitted. “The crates we keep magical artifacts in are designed to keep any magical signals from escaping, but if we need to look at them, the spell to make the crates transparent allows a small bit to get out.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ll have to add that warning to their container.”

“They weren’t even visible for that long,” Yvonne muttered. “And it sounds like Jackie realized they were here after barely a minute. Well, what d’you expect, when they’re part of his soul?”

“Can we talk about these soul strings in more detail?” Chase asked. “Like, for example...how do we get rid of them?”

“Oh, I-I still have those notes I was supposed to get.” Jack reached into his hoodie pocket and took out some crumpled pieces of paper. “Sorry, I kinda...dropped them when Jackie pushed me away, then didn’t really pay too much attention when I picked them up.”

“It’s fine, just hand them over.” Griffin held out his hand, and Jack passed over the papers. He began uncrumpling them.

What do you think will happen to the parts of their souls that are stuck inside the strings? JJ asked, his expression drawn and worried. Will they disappear? Would that hurt? Jack translated for the part of the room that didn’t understand sign.

“That’s a...very good question,” Delyth said. “Bell?”

“Don’t ask me, Mae, this has never happened before!” Yvonne said defensively. “Maybe we could ask the guy with deus ex soul vision.”

Jack hesitated. “Maybe...the bits will just go back to the full person?” he suggested tentatively “I mean, it’s hard to know which ones belong to who, since whenever I look at Marvin and Jackie their colors are all mixed up—”

Yvonne’s head shot up. “Wait, does that mean their souls are mixed up?!” she shrieked.

“Well, I think...” Jack trailed off. “I...hadn’t thought of...”

Silence fell in the room, only broken by the occasional ruffle of paper as Griffin continued to smooth them out. “Well, I...suppose that makes...sense,” Schneep said haltingly. “Jackie has...abilities now. Magic. He never had them before. If magic is in the soul, perhaps having bits of Marvin gave him...some of that?”

“But is there a way to undo it, then?” Chase asked with more than a hint of desperation in his voice. “Is there a way to make them better?”

More silence. Everyone looked at Yvonne, the only soul magician, but she had nothing to offer, so she looked over at Griffin. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “Well...I’m sorry, but I don’t think so,” he said as gently as possible.

Chase’s expression visibly fell. Jameson, standing nearby, reached over, offering his hand. After a moment, Chase breathed in deeply, and took the hand. “Right. I guess...that was stupid to think.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Jack said gently. “It was hopeful, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But there may be a way to improve this situation a bit,” Delyth suddenly said. “The strings...they’re black magic, and I don’t doubt that’s affecting your friends. If we get rid of them, perhaps we could stop them from being so oddly hostile...and prevent this Anti from ever returning.”

Chase looked up, and slowly nodded. “Okay then. How do we do that?”

“It would need to be strong magic,” Griffin said, looking over his notes. “But it’s not impossible. We may be able to burn them with an intense blaze, freeze the spell inside, or take them apart until they cease to function...either way, I don’t think just one magician will have enough power for that on their own.”

“Okay, so we next work on figuring that out,” Schneep stated. “How? If you need help, I will offer.”

I will as well, JJ added.

“We’d need to try,” Griffin muttered. “Just...try many different things. That’s the only way I can see forward.”

“The old trial and error,” Yvonne said. “Well...I’ll help too, if you need it.”

Chase let out a long, long sigh. “I...I’m done for the day. This was a lot for just a few minutes, and I just woke up.”

“Oh yes, by all means, all of you return to what you were doing,” Delyth said. “We’ll come tell you if we need anything, and remember you can ask us for anything as well.”

And slowly, they dispersed. Chase and JJ took Jackie back up to their room, while Jack and Schneep returned to theirs. Yvonne remained in the clinic for a while longer before retreating to her room, too. Nobody said anything as they left.

There was no way to reverse this. The fact was slowly sinking in to all of them. Whatever Jackie and Marvin had done, it could not be undone.

Yet maybe, just maybe, they could salvage something from this.

Just maybe.

[ilove-bloo]

band check

request: could i request a scenario of changmo or minsik (whoever you want) with like a spoiled and maybe a little materialistic s/o? maybe comes from a rich family or something? slightly angsty but mostly fluff !!

word count: 1,000+

genre: slight angst, fluff

pairing: changmo x reader

a/n: i have officially decided that if a drabble goes over 1,000 words, its gonna be a whole story type thingy lollll, enjoy! i cringed at the title too i’m sorry it made me laugh

“are you buying another necklace for her?” deokwang snickered to his friend. looking over his shoulder, he had been watching changmo scroll through expensive jewelry websites on his phone.

changmo enjoyed spoiling you and he wasn’t shy about it. he knew you have expensive taste from the way you grew up and he honestly admired how well you wore everything. “you quadrupled the price by wearing it jagi,” he would always praise you. seeing you appreciate the items he bought you made him feel proud to be your boyfriend, he would never hesitate to surprise you with gifts.

“wow, more for y/n?” jinyoung said loudly, butting into the conversation, taking a look at the older’s phone. “yes, who else would i buy jewelry for?” changmo rolled his eyes at the two.

jinyoung and deokwang exchanged looks from across the studio. first unaware of their actions because he was concentrating on his phone, changmo could later hear the two physically moving their lips. it became obvious that they were now mouthing things to each other.

seeing this, changmo felt bothered to know why they couldn’t just talk me out loud. “yah, just speak with your voice,” he said.

“you say it hyung!” jinyoung said abruptly, bringing the attention onto the shorter man. “what are you guys talking about?” changmo asked, now annoyed.

deokwang breathed in deeply, as he let the air go, he opened his mouth, “don’t you think you’ve been spending a lot of money on your girlfriend? i mean, you guys have only been dating for a year now,” deokwang finally revealed.

changmo scoffed, “is that what you guys were too scared to tell me?” he looked at the both of them, he could tell that they were being serious.

jinyoung nodded along in agreement, “well i mean, i haven’t seen you buy these many things for someone, ever. and you say yourself you save money but you just spoil y/n,”

“yeah, i get that y/n is from a well off family but shouldn’t they just take care of her? you’re only her boyfriend,” deokwang added on.

hearing the words coming from his closest friends made him feel a mix of emotions, angry his friends would say that and upset that they even brought up those ideas. “you guys don’t know shit about y/n,” changmo stood up roughly from his chair, walking to the door to leave. he didn’t want to be around them.

before he got out of the studio, he heard jinyoung voice out another concern, “i mean doesn’t everyone see it, at least we’re telling him the truth,”

agitated, changmo determined that he needed to see you. he wanted to justify how false their words about you were, ‘y/n isn’t like that, she’s not like that’ he kept repeating to himself.

on the drive to your apartment, his mind was racing with thoughts, he didn’t want to believe what his friends were telling him, but could they be right? did you only stay with him because of his fame and money? did you actually love him? all the negative thinking produced a sick feeling to his stomach, he hated feeling unsure, especially when it came to you.

changmo was at your apartment door faster than expected, he barged into your apartment, not caring to knock. the first thing in his line of sight was you on your couch, in sweats and his oversized hoodie along with your macbook in your lap. “oh - oppa, what are you doing here? you didn’t call-“

“why do you love me?” his harsh tone cutting off your words. “what are you saying, are you drunk?” you say, placing your laptop onto the coffee table, walking up to him.

“i’m sober, just answer the question y/n. please,” he said, his voice was stern, but evident with desperation.

“oppa, are you okay right now?” your hands reaching over to place on his shoulder. he looked at your wrist, seeing the cartier bracelet he gifted you for your five months anniversary that was around it added to his distressful thoughts, “are you happy with all the things i give you? is that all you want from me?”

changmo could sense himself becoming angry over nothing but something inside him just couldn’t stop his emotions. he knew he was being irrational but he couldn’t even think about being reasonable.

“changmo. you have to breathe, calm down please,” you begged. you grabbed his hands, rubbing small circles into his larger ones. feeling your touch, he breathed in and out deeply, closing his eyes while doing so.

after a few moments, he began to calm down. he opened his eyes to look down, his strong gaze on you softening. looking up at him, you searched for his eyes, your heart dropped when you realized that they were watery.

“baby, what’s going on?” you asked softly, motioning him to sit down with you on the couch. he sat next to you, facing you, holding your hand tigger as his source of comfort. you heard him clear his throat, “are you just dating me for my money?” he said looking down at your hands, his voice wavering.

the next thing he heard was your laugh, his head quickly going up to see your face. “yah, why are you laughing?” you pretended to wipe a fake tear from your eyes, moving your hand to place on changmo’s cheek, moving his face to look into your eyes.

he felt a wave of shyness from the sudden eye contact, like he could finally realize it was a dumb question to begin with. “no offense oppa, but if i dated you because of your money, i wouldn’t be school anymore,” you said simply.

“is this what got you so worked up?” you questioned. he nodded in response, too embarrassed to open his mouth.

you breathed out deeply, stroking the side of his cheek as you continued to talk, “i know i’m a bit materialistic and i enjoy having nice things, but i hope you know i would still be with you even if we could only afford ramen for dinner every night. i love you because you’re thoughtful, caring, and you have so many more qualities i can go on and on about. i am grateful for all the gifts you give me, but i’m more grateful to be given the most wonderful boyfriend ever,” you finished, not losing eye contact with him.

hearing your words of reassurance erased all the insecurities and doubts that were instilled in changmo’s mind. he couldn’t help but feel himself fall in love with you even more. you were the one that always brought clarity to his worries, you kept him level-headed and he couldn’t feel more thankful in that moment. “i love you so much, my y/n,”

he snaked his arm around your waist to pull you close to him, kissing you unexpectedly. pulling away, he then painted your face with quick, soft pecks.

once he felt satisfied with the amount of affection he showed, he stared at your face with a smug smile. leaning back on the couch, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. you giggled at his unexpected loving behavior, “i’m sorry jagi, i won’t think of something so stupid ever again,” he apologized.

“why did you ask me that in the first place?”

combing through your hair with his fingers, he sighed deeply, “i don’t know what got into me. i think i got insecure from the things the guys were asking me and i was just overthinking,” his deep voice vibrating through his chest. your hands found your way around his torso, holding onto him tighter, “i love you for you, always changmo. don’t you ever overthink that,” you replied. his felt his face warm up, “you’re so perfect y/n,” he commented, he was a sucker for you and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“i know, so, if you ever pull that shit again,” you started, pointing at him, “i’ll sell all your damn rolexes,” you teased. staring down at you, he grinned, his eyes turning into crescents. “yes ma’am!” he saluted, earning a playful smack from you.