#yeah so i called in sick just so i could have a day of mourning because holy shit my emotions are a wreck

[smolthealmighty]

[ohdeerfully]

K hear me out, a wife! Reader x Alastor and Charlie finds out they had a kid when they were alive. (I don’t mind what the kids name is but make them young and passed due to Spanish flu, dark I know)

omg this has been sitting in my drafts so long, i love requests like this </3 im sorry if it seems rushed, i really wanted to finish it!

Mourning Dove

Alastor x Reader (angst, slight comfort at end) TW: CHILD DEATH, child sickness, reader referred to as a woman but doesnt effect story too much join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You sat yourself unceremoniously at the bar in the hotel lobby, shoulders slouched and cheek squished against the cold countertop. You weren’t one for alcohol, but you didn’t mind the company of Husk. He didn’t say much unless prompted, but that didn’t bother you. It was nice, honestly, after a day of dealing with the others.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Okay. Nevermind about him not saying much.

“Hmm?” You responded, barely peeking up from your finger that dragged patterns in the surface you laid against. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” Husk observed, and you knew he was referring to the discoloration of your eyes and the residual dampness of your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess, too. Yeah, you looked like shit. “Tough day?”

“I guess, yeah,” You sighed, pushing yourself up and leaning back in a stretch while your fingers gripped the countertop to steady yourself. “Just thinking about… Y’know.”

He didn’t pry, and you were thankful for that. Husk did know a little, actually, and knew better than to push for more details. After being stuck with Alastor for so long, with the guy owning his soul and all, he inevitably learned some deep shit about him and, by extension, you. He just grunted in response and went back to spot cleaning his bottles of booze.

“(Y/N)!” A chipper voice called your name, and you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. You thought you were done with all of this for the day, and you were so ready to just go to sleep. “I wanted everybody to join me for dinner today! We have a few new residents, so I want everybody to meet each other.”

You squeezed your lips to prevent a harsh word from responding to Charlie’s invitation. You were so tired. You feigned a weak smile and looked at her. You wanted to say no, to say you needed to sleep, but those huge, pleading eyes of hers caught the rejection in your throat. You tried to reason with yourself that Charlie doesn’t host stuff like this very often. It would just be one night. You’ll survive.

“Okay.” 

She clasped her hands together and jumped on the balls of her feet, thanked you, and took off to find the next resident to invite. You held your head against your hand and you sighed dramatically. Husk looked at you from the corner of his eye, but opted to remain silent. You stood up after a few more minutes of quiet sulking, deciding you should fix yourself up for dinner.

In your room, you gently fixed your hair and threw on a casual outfit. Nothing super nice, just in case food started flying–knowing the antics of some of the hotel residents, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

You slowly made your way to the banquet room, which Charlie had installed for events like today. You could already hear the low murmur of small talk, and you were surprised to see a few new faces. Not a whole lot, just about five, alongside the familiar faces of your friends. Charlie’s hotel was, slowly but surely, becoming more successful.

You spotted Alastor quickly–he was hard to miss due to his height. You settled yourself in a chair next to him at a long table that Charlie had dragged into the room for everybody to sit at. You felt your skin prickle with the familiar sensation of static, which increased slightly as his attention turned towards you. He gave you a grin before focusing his eyes on the racket that was already picking up. You watched his smile curl, a bit sinister, as the sound of shouting caught your attention.

“-my fuckin’ business!” You picked up the tail end of Angel Dust fuming at Vaggie, one pair of arms crossed under his chest. He had a third hand on his hip, with his fourth hand jabbing an accusatory point at the woman in front of him.

“Guys, please!” Charlie pleaded, pressing her shoulder against Vaggie’s in an attempt to move her away from Angel. “I don’t want to scare my new guests away!”

“Tell this bitch to keep her nose outta my shit! I can’t have my fuckin’ life on the line because she doesn’t like my job!” Angel spat. There was a dangerous, maybe even frantic, look in his eyes. Before Charlie could say anything, Angel had spun around and stormed to the table. He ripped the chair out and slammed his body down. All four of his arms were crossed now as he glowered at the wooden tabletop.

You sighed, and felt a headache already forming. 

Angel’s spirits quickly changed when Husk sulked into the room. He had his paws stuffed in his pockets, and glared at the air in front of him. He sat down at the other end of the table, but Angel was quick to stand up and saunter his way over to sit next to the cat. You couldn’t quite catch the flirtatious remarks that made Husk roll his eyes. 

You observed them for a while, watching as Husk slowly grew more comfortable in the small talk he and Angel shared. He would never admit it, but you knew Husk didn’t hate Angel’s company. Husk seemingly said something about you to Angel that made him whip his head up to look at you. You quickly averted your gaze.

Charlie had been standing by her own chair, and a cough from her throat made the chatter die down. You didn’t really listen to the overly sappy speech she had started to give, your mind drifting away in absent thought. You picked your nails into the edge of the table, fidgeting with the light cloth.

Alastor caught your attention by lightly nudging his leg against yours. You trailed your eyes up to his, meeting his red gaze. There was a hint of worry in his eyes, and his grin twitched at the edges as he looked at your exhausted face. He tilted his head in a silent question.

You merely shook your head in response, and mouthed a quick “it’s nothing” and hoped that he wouldn’t press. He didn’t, but you knew he’d ask again in a private room.

Charlie sat down again, and Vaggie rubbed her shoulder, murmuring a silent praise. You dragged your eyes across the table, making note of the handful of new faces. None of them seemed to take Charlie very seriously, but that didn’t come as a surprise. They probably just liked free food.

The food in question seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and you chalked it up to her “princess of hell” type powers that she didn’t use very often. You smiled gratefully and, though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you started slowly picking at the plate in front of you.

The room once again began to rumble with small talk, but at some point the multiple conversations began to melt together until the whole table was talking to each other in one. Charlie was doing most of the heavy lifting with keeping the conversation going.

“-the deal with the Radio Demon and that gal next to him?” You perked your ears when you heard this reference to yourself. One of the new guests, some sort of lizard demon, had a finger pointed at the two of you. He had a slight country drawl in his voice. You saw Alastor’s smile widen when the attention of the table turned towards himself.

“My darling wife,” Alastor stated simply, briefly placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were closed as he smiled proudly. You silently nodded with a light, polite smiling. “We knew each other in life. It’s only natural for us to remain together. It would have been a shame for death to do us part.”

“Didn’t think you was the type…” The lizard said slowly, eyeing the two of you carefully. You didn’t blame him; what kind of nut job would marry the Radio Demon? Though, as Alastor said, you were married before Hell, and he wasn’t so… infamous back then. He was actually rather sweet, besides the whole serial killer thing–which, in your defense, you weren’t even aware of till he was shot to death.

“Didn’t think ya were the type to have a kid, either,” Angel piped up absently, one arm thrown lazily over the back of his chair. You watched as Husk tried desperately to shut him up as he continued to speak, but you barely heard the words over the sound of your heart picking up pace, and the increased radio frequency of Alastor’s. His body had stiffened and his eyes had shot open, quickly narrowing as his smile strained and curled dangerously, his gums visible in a snarl. His eyes were not on Angel, but on Husk, whose ears were flattened against his head and a nervous look in his wide eyes.

You weren’t really paying attention though, but you felt the intense tension and rapid prickling on your skin. Your breathing became more labored and you pointed your face to the table to try to hide the building tears in your eyes. You had tried so hard, all day, to push back the memories that kept threatening to resurface. What are the chances that on the same day, the topic was brought up, destroying the wall you had built to contain the anxiety, regret, grief…

You were kneeling by the wrinkled, messy sheets of the twin bed your son had been in for the past couple days. Your heart was tight, and you could barely breathe as you looked at him. He gazed blearily at the ceiling, following the path of the rocking fan. Every breath he took scratched at his throat, as if there were pebbles blocking the path. He barely had the strength to cough. His lips were dry and cracked, and his graying skin still had a flush of fever. You used a damp rag to clean the dried snot under his nose.

You had tried everything. Every recommended antibiotic, every treatment, therapy, exercise; nothing had worked. Nobody knew how to treat the illness. You had even tried to work with witch doctors that Alastor knew. You had spent so much of what little money you had trying to save your little boy.

Alastor was often gone during this time, being the one to go out and find something new to try. You never left the room, even when your husband tried to push you to go outside to stretch your legs or take a shower. He promised to watch over your son. But you just couldn’t, not with David laying on these dirty sheets, looking so frail, weak, and small. You had often called him little dove, and it made you sick to think that your nickname was now like a cruel adjective to describe his current state. A sick, frail baby bird. He had barely eaten in the past eight days, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that any scratchy breath he took could be that last one.

You stiffened when his head rolled over towards you, and his eyes struggled to focus on you. His cracked lips grimaced for a moment, followed by a sharp, grating cough that made your heart drop and your eyes sting. You reached a shaky hand forward to smooth down his knotted hair.

“Am I going to be okay,” David said weakly. His voice caught on the tightness in his throat multiple times. “I feel really bad.”

“I know baby, but you’re okay,” You said tenderly, continuing to stroke his hair. “Your dad is getting you some new medicine. You’ll be okay.”

You were lying to him, and to yourself. But you couldn’t help but cling on to a morsel of hope–it was all you could do, really. David just looked towards you, his eyes flicking around slightly, unable to truly focus on anything.

“I’m tired.” He said. His breathing was labored.

“I know.”

Your emotions threatened to spill from your eyes as you watched him turn his head back towards the ceiling, eyes shutting. You didn’t want to cry; you couldn’t, not in front of him. You needed to stay strong for him.

You pressed the back of your hand to his burning forehead, and then trailed your hand to his chest, lightly pressing against him to feel his heartbeat. It was slow, and slowing. Your own heart picked up in response. 

You heard the door in another room open, shut, and footsteps quickly pace towards the room. The door cracked lightly, and the tall, thin frame of your husband peeked in. He held a brown back tightly in his fist. With one look into your eyes, he knew something was wrong. Or, well, more wrong than usual. 

You clenched your jaw to prevent any sob from escaping your lips as he sat the bag down on an end table and kneeled next to you, gripping your waist tightly as he looked at David. The boy’s breath had gotten dangerously quiet.

You watched as his eyes opened again.

“I’m tired.” He repeated, weaker this time.

Both you and Alastor leaned towards the bed, his hand on David’s leg as you gingerly lifted the boy’s head into your arms, pulling his light body towards yourself. You shifted yourself up into the bed with him, trying to wrap as much of yourself around your son as possible. You could feel his heartbeat getting slower with every weak breath he took.

“Sleep, then,” your voice trembled. You felt Alastor grip your shoulder, his other hand softly rubbing David’s arm. You couldn’t describe the expression on his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, little dove.” You lied.

“In heaven?” He responded. Your breath hitched at his words. He knew, somehow, that he was dying. How sick it was, for such a young boy to be aware of his impending death. How cruel God was.

“Yeah, I promise,” Was all you could muster. You worried that any more would destroy the dam that held back your tears.

It broke, though, when you felt David’s heart finally stop. You choked on a sob once, twice, before finally you started wailing. Screaming. You held a vice-like grip on the boy, both your arms and legs secured around him. Alastor was still quiet, but he had sat across from you on the bed and pulled you towards him, securing you and David’s still-warm body in an equally tight grip. You could feel his strained breathing and tight jaw against your head. He said something, but you didn’t hear him.

Your mind rushed back to the present when you felt a hand on your back. Your head whipped towards Alastor, who was looking at you. The table was dead silent, and there was still a look of rage in his eyes, but his smile held a softness that was only ever given to you. Your heart still beat strongly, and you struggled to breathe, but you were at least glad that your mind was still back in the present.

Evidently, barely any time had passed. Angel had a nervous look in his expression, which he tried and failed to mask as Husk cursed at him. Charlie was looking at you in worry.

“(Y/N),” She said softly. “...How come you never-”

“Truly, there is no point in speaking of life before death,” Alastor interrupted her, the usual cheer in his voice lilted by a masked emotion. You knew he felt the same grief as you, but he was a million times better at acting naturally. “What a waste of time and emotion.”

Alastor stood quickly, his hand trailing against your shoulders as he walked past you and towards Angel and Husk. Husk’s ears flattened to his skull again as Alastor loomed over them, hands behind his back as a smile twisted his features.

“Husker, my friend,” He said, the cat demon visibly flinching at the mention of his name. “Let’s take a walk.”

Husk didn’t move, and the room grew heavy with tension with every second as the sound of radio frequency got louder and somehow sharper. Alastor bent at the waist, his snarling smile inches away from the panicked expression on Husk’s face. 

“Is the tomcat getting too old to hear?” You barely picked up Alastor’s words, but you definitely heard the threatening tone in his voice.

The cat swallowed hard before standing up. He shot one last infuriated look at Angel, before whipping his head back to attention when Alastor tapped his cane against the ground impatiently. The two of them left the room, and the tension in the air immediately lifted when the door shut.

Charlie startled you when she placed a delicate hand on your upper arm, and she guided you to your feet and out another set of doors. A weak smile touched her expression.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as you both went up the stairs towards your hotel room. You shook your head silently at her offer. She only nodded back, and said nothing more. She opened the door to your room for you, and waited till you settled down in your bed before saying a string of comforting words that you didn’t really pay attention to. The door clicked softly, and you once again began to sob.

Only a few minutes passed before you felt your skin prickle with a static-like feeling. You had grown to find comfort in the odd sensation, and felt incredibly relieved when you knew Alastor was sitting next to you. You didn’t even hear him enter the room.

He pulled you wordlessly against his chest, lying the two of you down. You twisted yourself in his grip till your ear rested against him, listening to the odd drum of what you assumed was a heart.

“Has David been troubling you all day?” He asked you when your sobs slowed and you caught your breath. You nodded. Alastor rubbed a soothing hand on your shoulder blade. You recognized the tone of grief in his voice as he spoke. “What a pesky boy, even all these years later.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around Alastor’s neck as tears began flowing again.

Though you would never tell him, you often hoped Charlie’s idea of redemption would work. Your husband himself would likely never follow that path; you knew he saw no point and enjoyed the power he held in Hell. But, you wished every day to see your son again. To see your little dove.

You had promised him.

[luveline]

OMG need to see more of Steve drawing reader in the zombie au!!!

steve zombie au —steve draws you all the time. fem

Sometimes, you collapse under the weight of it all. A lot of bad things have happened to you, and the world in this state is overwhelming. You used to wake in a soft, warm bed, spend days surrounded by loved ones, eating and drinking when you needed to, when you wanted to, with no worrying about where your next tube of toothpaste or toilet paper was going to come from. 

These days, you wake, and it's into a world where you've seen agony, and inhumanity, and it's hard. You're his sweetheart and he doesn't care, he'll take care of you for the rest of his life, but there's only so much he can do. 

“Sure you don't need anything else?” he whispers, pulling the linen blankets up to your chin. 

“M'sure. Thanks, Steve.” 

He feels bad touching you when you're squirming. “Yeah, no problem. I'm just gonna sit outside and read, okay? I'll be right there.” 

“Okay,” you mumble, pressing your face into your pillow. 

Steve grabs his rucksack and drags himself outside of the tent. From here, the sea of tents, he can see the fire in the centre of camp leaching smoke into the air, and he can hear the unmistakable hum of hundreds of people in one place. He figures it to be almost like an army base, and the small amount of military personnel only cements that. 

Robin's off somewhere. He misses her more and more lately, not sure where she is, but you've been sick this week. He has to stay close to home. She'll be back tonight for sure to see you both. And Eddie, your new (and, to Steve's reluctance, good) friend, popped by to see you both an hour ago. You weren't in the mood to talk and so he mostly talked to Steve about the next run for supplies. 

You're loved, but you're lonely. You lost everyone you knew. 

You need time to mourn now you're somewhere safe enough to do it. 

Steve rummages through his rucksack for his novel, but he doesn't want to read it without you. Between that and his sketchbook, he has very little to do. Still, you'd brought him those nice pencils and a new skinny sketchbook full of smooth paper, and there are pages yet to fill. 

It's all you. Every inch of space. Your unknowing smile as Eddie showed you how to make an origami crane, or your stomach in the dark as your t-shirt rode up in sleep. Your hands clasped around one of his, squeezing, and the figure of your crouched by the river watching tiny fish swim by. You're in lilac, and sepia, and green, green-green-green, the darkest green pencil he has in want of a black detailing your pupils and the seam of your lips over and over. 

He looks in through the tent door and sketches the curve of your hip under the blanket. He could likely draw you head to toe and inch by inch without reference, or he likes to think it, having seen it all a hundred times, maybe more. You sigh in your dozing and curl inwards, and he starts again. 

He notices when you start to cry because he's focused on your shoulders as they tremble. Steve folds the pen between leaves of paper and shoves it all back into his bag. To comfort you or let you cry? Sometimes people just want to be left alone. 

“Steve?” you ask through a little sniffle. 

“Yeah, honey, I'm here.” 

“Will you come in here?” 

He must be doing something right if you're calling him in when you need him. Finally, something right. Steve crawls into the tent and presses your shoulders against the tent flooring, shaking his head at you. “It's okay,” he says, enthusing his voice with a light amount of loving ridicule. “What are you crying for, huh? You're okay.” 

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you agree, snuffling as he touches your cheek. 

“You are. You're okay. You're beautiful.” He goes sticky like syrup, praising. “I'd write you love letters if I had a pen.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Just talking about how pretty you are would take up ten pages. I keep trying to get it down, you know? So when I'm gone, they'll know someone as pretty as you was walking around loving on some loser,” —you laugh wetly and distract him— “right? So why are you crying?” 

“Just don't feel well.” 

“I don't blame you,” he says, nudging a tear off of your cheek with his thumb. 

“But,” you say, smiling at him weakly, “I have to keep my head up. Yes?” 

“Yeah, honey.” He swallows a funny lump. “God, you're fucking everything when you smile.”

It's not that he doesn't care, he wants to hear it, but you just don't know how to tell him. How do you verbalise a mountain of grief? So he rescues you instead, flirts and soothes the wound with a warm smile. You respond to it as he'd hoped and perk up with a couple of carefully pressed kisses. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

“Were you drawing me, before?” 

“How'd you guess that?” 

“You were really quiet. It's like you go somewhere else.” 

“Nah. Just with you.” He clears his throat. “Did you… wanna see?” 

“Really?” 

Steve would write an itemised list of all his worst secrets if it meant you'd smile. A few pages of shoddy pencil sketches is nothing. 

[bluehoodiewoozi]

DRABBLE MARATHON #15:

WEN JUNHUI + first love

1.5k words // warnings: alcohol consumption.

This party would be fun – at least so you had been told. It would just be a cute little celebration of a year well-spent, complete with only the best drinks and culinary goods. Dress code: ugly Christmas sweaters recommended but not mandatory.

And yet, you felt like you were trapped, stuck in a vast ocean of Christmas decorations, gingerbread cookies and Vernon’s holiday remixes of all the best songs. 

It’s not that you didn’t like socialising or meeting people. Minghao’s house was full of your friends and acquaintances and you were having the time of your life until he drunkenly told you a secret: Junhui would be coming to the party too, right as soon as his plane landed.

Junhui – the first man to ever make your heart pound, the first man to kiss your lips,  the first boyfriend you had had in college, the first everything. And while he wasn’t the last, no one else compared. 

You hadn’t seen him in two years. Your last memory of him was the day he left for his hometown a week after graduation. 

“I’ll come and find you again one day,” he had sworn that day as the two of you shared tearful goodbyes, giving the other a piece of your shattered hearts to keep. 

For reasons unknown to the both of you, you had decided to not continue your relationship at a distance. Long distance being painful was the excuse you gave when someone asked. 

But now, after two years, the distance would be no more. No more excuses, no more longing – in just a short time, he would be in the same room as you again. 

“How much have you had to drink?” Mingyu wondered and plucked the glass from your hands. “You’re all pale.”

“Jun’s coming,” you whispered, panic restricting your chest while butterflies fluttered their wings in excitement just the same. “He’s coming to the party.”

Mingyu hummed in thought. “Yeah, I think Hao mentioned something about that.”

“Do you think he remembers me?” 

“He promised he would, didn’t he?`” He nudged your side gently before offering a reassuring smile. “Junhui doesn't break his promises. Besides,” he sighed, “he always asked about you when we called.”

The butterflies won, for now. “He did?”

“Every single time. You’ll be fine.”

Just as you were about to come to terms with the words — or fight them, perhaps –, Soonyoung’s voice broke your little illusion of there being more time. “JUN! OH MY GOD, YOU ACTUALLY CAME?!”

He squealed and and jumped around and screamed like a little kid receiving his favourite toy for Christmas before dashing through the lines of guests and tackling a tall figure in a hug. 

“I missed you, man!” he cried, now sobbing into the man’s shoulder – no doubt drunk out of his mind. “Don’t ever leave again, Junhui!”

Junhui laughed – god, had you missed his laugh. “I missed you too, Soonyoung.”

“It’s Tiger,” he was promptly corrected by the crying  man. 

Junhui blinked and patted his back. “I– Sure. I missed you, Tiger.”

‘Tiger’ sobbed louder at that and hugged him even tighter, causing his poor victim to groan under the pressure. “I missed you and so did Hao and Mingyu and Jihoon and– Oh! And (Y/n) missed you the moist–” he hiccuped while you tried your hardest to hide behind Mingyu, “most!”

You were going to be sick from nervousness and it only got worse when Junhui’s eyes immediately began searching for something – someone – in the crowds upon hearing your name.

His gaze caught yours before you could hide away properly. Your breath caught in your throat and your heart stopped for a moment before fluttering at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. He offered you a smile.

Before you could find the strength to return the gesture, he was pulled away by Seungkwan. As they disappeared into the kitchen, you finally found your breath again.

“You should talk to him,” Mingyu told you but he didn’t sound as playful as he usually did when he told you things like this. He sounded almost… Sad? Disappointed? Mournful, perhaps? The smile he put on hardly looked genuine. “I bet he’s missed you as much as you missed him, you know?”

“I–” you gasped and the room seemed to be spinning as reality slowly set in, “I’m going to go get some fresh air.”

“Here,” he sighed and shrugged off his blazer, “at least put this on. I don’t want you catching a cold before New Year’s.”

You thanked him, shrugged on the blazer and headed out to the balcony. The chill of the air was a welcoming change – it lulled the butterflies back to sleep, just like you preferred them. 

He was really here, in the same building, breathing the same air, and he was as handsome as always – if not even more. The years had been kind to him and you didn’t doubt he must have a wife by now.  She was probably pretty and kind and a little aloof like he was – the perfect pair, his ideal other half like you never could be.

And you? You were alone still, holding onto a silly little hope that he’d still love you as much as he told you he did when you had a breakdown in the middle of your last finals’ season. To the moon and back and all around the world, as bright as the stars in the sky – that’s how he had described his feelings for you and you doubt he even remembered. 

The door creaked open and you tense up in anticipation of what was about to come. You didn’t dare turn to see who it was – perhaps it was Mingyu urging you to come back inside, or maybe Soonyoung coming to beg you to join him in karaoke, or maybe–

“I figured I’d find you here,” you heard him speak and your whole world shook. Junhui shuffled to stand next to you, leaning against the railing to look out at the city. “It was a little loud inside, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly but really it had been your own heart that had been so loud.

He chuckled. “I had forgotten how loud the guys were. I missed them though.” 

You nodded, unable to form sentences now that he was so close. You were staring at your hands – just a few centimetres and you could hold hands with him again. 

“I missed you,” you then heard him breathe out and the butterflies came to life again. “I missed you so much, every day. I guess it’s true what they say: you never forget your first.”

“But you can always move on,” you replied solemnly.

He hummed. “Have you? Moved on?” He seemed to regret the question as soon as he said it.  He cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m sure you did. Mingyu seems nice. He always did like you.”

Your heart dropped in shock. “Mingyu?”

“You’re wearing his jacket right now,” he laughed wistfully. “I always figured if it wouldn’t be me, it would be Gyu.”

“Oh!” You rushed to correct him now that you knew what he meant. “No, no, Mingyu and I– We aren’t– We never– I never. I haven’t moved on.”

“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “You haven’t?”

“Well,” you started with a gulp of air, “I tried, but… no one compared.”

“Me too,” he breathed out and you saw that sparkle in his eyes you had missed so much. “There was no one like you, so I just waited… and waited…”

“Waited for what?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered and he seemed to be closer to you all of a sudden, your noses brushing together, “but I’m done waiting.”

You didn’t need to ask him what he meant by that, nor did you have the time to. He leaned closer and closer until you felt his lips against yours. Your fingers rose to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as his arms lowered to pull you closer to his chest. You faintly noticed your – Mingyu’s – blazer falling off your shoulders as Junhui embraced you closer, and closer, and closer, until you could feel the familiar fluttering of his heart against yours.

You expected it to feel foreign – years had passed, after all – but instead, it was as if he never even left. As if he had been here with you all those years, holding your hand and laughing at your dumb jokes while fighting off Soonyoung’s attempts at playful flirtation. 

As if there was only him and you in the world and that was all you would ever need.

“I missed this,” he all but gasped out once you pulled apart again. “I missed you.”

“I can’t believe you left me here to suffer alone for all those years,” you told him with a disbelieving laugh, “and then you come back and kiss me dumb?`”

A smirk on his lips, he shrugged. “But you’re not complaining, are you?”

“Only on one condition.”

“Anything,” he whispered and pecked your lips once more as if to seal his promise.

You believed him. “Stay. Here. With me.”

“With you? Forever.”

You had spoken in a daze of hopeful delusion but here he was, replying as if it was the only truth he knew. Your eyes widened. “What about your life back home?”

“My home is where you are,” he confessed with a small smile. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realise.”

[002yb]

jason revival au where he comes back but he’s amnesiac and talia still helps him and all that but somehow through all of this he ends up applying to be bruce wayne’s new secretary under a different last name and bruce is like “jason?!” while jason is like “uh…do i know you?”

Bruce only goes to the interview because HR badgers him about it relentlessly. While all the candidates are qualified (and all have been vetted to control for further liability with baseless scandal), they insist they want someone Bruce has some natural rapport with - some base level chemistry that will ensure a good fit and reduce potential turnover.

And Bruce could care less, honestly. He runs his own calendar and delegates to a team of trusted individuals to handle the day-to-day tasks that would bog his day down otherwise. The company wants to give him a babysitter is what's happening. Someone to keep an eye on him and ensure he does the unavoidable work he often puts off in favor of other nightly ventures.

Bruce isn't sure what he expects when he takes that last meeting. He's seen all manner of people in the past weeks as he's met with final candidates, refusing them one after another because they lacked the backbone or malleability he needed.

The final candidate of the current batch knocks on the door and Bruce waves them in without raising his gaze from his phone. It's rude of him, but he has more pressing matters to worry about. Some case. Or some family drama.

All it takes is the sound of their voice and Bruce's heart stutters in his chest. Because he knows it - not so much the sound (because gone is the high lilt of childhood and the squeak that came with his voice breaking), but the cadence, the way each word falls from that tongue:

'Evening, boss.'

Bruce looks up and sees a ghost. He sees the son whose body he held - lifeless. He sees the child he buried. A fallen soldier, a lost friend, someone so impossibly dear whom Bruce mourned.

And he can't find his own voice. He can't trust his eyes. Bruce can't move a muscle; his breath catches and he knows something is wrong. Fear toxin or something meta. Help him.

From Jason's perspective, he sees Wayne Enterprises CEO go worryingly pale. It's like he's haunted, only Jason doesn't know why. Trouble in WE paradise? A too long work day without having taken care of himself?

It would be part of his responsibilities to look after Mr. Wayne, but job responsibilities are the furthest thing from Jason's mind when he pushes forward to look after Bruce. Tentatively approaching and offering him water, making sure he's okay and 'should I call someone for you, boss? we can do the interview another time if you're not well?'

And Bruce shakes himself, because no. No, please stay.

The interview continues. It's strangely personal. Nothing very professional about it no matter how Jason tries to steer things that direction. He figures maybe Mr. Wayne is just grounding himself after whatever episode he had. Jason humors it as best he can.

Bruce really does look sick though. Let Jason call him a ride or something - Bruce clearly needs rest.

And Bruce panics because no, no. It's just -- he hasn't eaten yet. Low blood sugar. Come with him? They can continue the interview over a meal.

Just Bruce vying for anything to stay with Jason longer. So that he doesn't have to be apart from him as he tries to figure out how.

If it's a hallucination or some mind trick -- let him have it. Please, please.

And yeah. They actually order in and eat at Bruce's desk. They're all Jason's forgotten favorites and Jason is none the wiser. His smile is as brilliant as Bruce remembers though and he finds peace in it.

Because it would be strange to hire this boy after such an informal interview though, Bruce lobs a few relevant questions Jason's way. One of which is one that presses on him: why WE? He's curious if some part of Jason's subconscious remembered him in this way? It's clear his boy has amnesia, but there must be something that drew him here of all places.

Maybe there is, but Jason can't up and say that (yet). It's not any less true that Jason is drawn to the charitable side of Wayne Enterprises - the Martha Wayne Foundation. Bruce does a lot for Gotham. He's helped out a lot of communities that really need it and Jason openly admits he has the ulterior motive of wanting to see Bruce well and able to continue that good work in charitable giving. And yeah, maybe it's all a tax write off, but Bruce makes the active decision to remain headquartered in Gotham. It provides work and stimulates their economy. Those funds go into all those projects in the hurting communities of Gotham. More jobs for them that are good and honest and give them an opportunity to break a vicious cycle and --

Jason rambling in a way about all the nuances to WE and the impact of all the choices Bruce makes with the Foundation and any excess giving he does that he hadn't before, but it's still so Jason. So kind and compassionate and beautiful.

Bruce extends the job offer on the condition that Jason start the next day. Were Jason to call that bluff, Bruce would have folded. He would have given Jason anything he wanted. A different start time, a sign on bonus regardless of if it's not customary for the position or not; extra vacation, a pay bump, anything everything Bruce will give him the world if only to keep Jason save and in his sights always.

Jason only makes one request: he's looking after a kid for now. A temporary arrangement, but... he'll need to check on him throughout the day and --

Bring him, Bruce tells him. Because he's serious. He'll open a daycare. The child can have their own office, for all he cares. Bruce will have Alfred pick them up from school and provide meals; whatever is needed.

And Jason laughs, a titter of sound that could bring Bruce to his knees were he not already sitting. It makes his stomach swoop and his eyes burn. It's been so damn long.

They talk for a while longer, until Jason really has to return to look after said kid. The son of the woman who helped him get on his feet. Jason played nanny and the kid got attached. Jason promises he has a lot of experience; he'll make sure Bruce eats and rests properly.

Bruce falling in love with Jason again (platonic romantic, it doesn't matter).

And when Bruce eventually sends him off for the night, of course he follows. He stays looking on from the apartment complex over, watching Jason through a dingy, lit up window with sheer drapes as Jason lives a humble, domestic life free of heartache and suffering.

It's selfish of him. Bruce knows he brought this boy so much pain, but he can't let him go. He'll ruin him again. He won't be apart from Jason any more.

Extra: the boy, Damian, looks suspiciously like Bruce and he's bemused by it. There's something else about him that's strikingly familiar, too (Talia), but Bruce is at an honest lost. Too endeared by how the boy seems to have inherited many of Jason's habits.

[thinkinonsense]

Eat or Be Eaten ✦ Steve Harrington x fem!oc: Search Party

╰┈➤ Summary: In the dark corners of Hawkins, Indiana holds the gate to an alternate upside-down dimension. When a little boy goes missing in the town, Johanna Hopper and her friends gather to help find him before it's too late. Along the way, Johanna finds herself getting intertwined with the likings of a strange little girl and someone she claims to hate.

╰┈➤c/w: violence, cursing, angst, mentions of death

╰┈➤ word count: 3.3k+

╰┈➤ last chapter here

✦ "You can't go with me, Johanna," Dad argued for the third time this morning.

"Why not?"

We haven't seen each other since the news broke and I wish I could say I didn't know how he must be feeling, but I do.

"Jo..."

"He was there for me. Let me be there for him."

Dad gave up after I said that. I drove him down to the morgue where he met with Joyce and Jonathan.

"You stay in the waiting room, got it?" Dad stated again before letting me out of the car.

I nodded my head.

Deja Vú has a funny way of showing itself sometimes because suddenly I was eleven again and here for my sister.

"Jo? What are you doing here?" Jonathan asked, sort of surprised.

"I came to be here with you and your mom," I said, pulling him into a tight hug.

"You didn't have-" He mumbled into my hair.

"I wanted to."

When we let go, he sat next to me. Dad was on the phone with one of the other officers and Joyce was still looking at Will's body.

"She thinks he's in the walls." He whispers, making me turn my head at him.

"What?"

"Yeah, she... she says she can hear him."

"She can hear Will?" I ask then shake my head at how silly it sounds. "That's not possible."

"That's what I thought too."

Dad told me about the phone calls but I assumed the same thing, kids in his grade just thought it was funny to prank call them. I didn't know Joyce was actually losing it.

"There is so much we still need to do." He sighed, leaning forward on his knees.

"If you need anything just let me know," I said, rubbing his back in circles.

"How did you do it?"

It was five years ago when she passed. I don't remember much leading up to it. She was sick but I guess my mind blocked out the other stuff. Once she was gone, my mom left too. She divorced my dad and remarried a man named Bill. They ended up having another kid that I'll never meet.

For the longest time, I hated both of my parents. You wouldn't think an eleven-year-old could hold so much anger. It wasn't until Mom left that I started to like my dad again. He used to be a lazy drunk who wouldn't move for days at a time. I can't say I fully blame him after he lost his other daughter but it felt like he didn't care that I was mourning too.

"Honestly? I don't know..." I sighed. "But I got through it so, I know you can too."

Suddenly, Joyce came running out the door.

"Ma'am! Ma'am! I need you to sign this!" One of the morticians yelled.

"I don't know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son!" She yelled back.

"Joyce!" Dad called as she walked out the door.

"Mom! Mom!" Jonathan said, running after her.

I looked at my dad for some answers but he just sighed and sat back down.

"What was that about?" I asked him.

"She's going through a lot right now, kid." He said, being as vague as possible.

Minutes later, Jonathan comes storming back inside for his coat and keys. I followed him out to his car and hopped in with him.

✮

This isn't my ideal afternoon, looking for coffins but Jonathan shouldn't have to do this alone. He should not have to do this at all.

For the most part, I zoned out while the funeral director talked to Jonathan, only adding small comments when he looked at me for an opinion. The front door opened and stood the last person I thought I would see today, Nance.

"Jonathan, Jo, can we talk for just a second?" She asked. 

Jonathan and I exchanged a short glance then followed her to the hallway.

They sat in the chairs while I leaned against the wall. Nancy pulled out a taped-up picture from the other night at Steve's house, letting us look at the figure she was talking about.

"It could be some sort of perspective distortion, but I wasn't using the wide angle. I don't know." He says, handing it back to her.

"It's weird though," I said, getting another look.

"And you're sure you didn't see anyone else out there?" She asked him.

"No." He answered. "She was there one second and then, um... gone. I figured she bolted."

"Barb wouldn't do that," I mumbled.

"That's what I think but the cops, on the other hand, think she ran away." Nancy sighed. "And I went back to Steve's and I thought I... I thought I saw something. Some weird man or... I don't know what it was."

Why would the cops just brush this off after nearly the same thing happened with Will and now he's dead?

"I'm sorry," Nancy said breaking the silence between us. "I shouldn't have come here today. I just... I just thought maybe you knew something or... Hopper might know.."

"What did he look like?" Jonathan asks her.

"What?" Nancy and I both said.

"This man you saw in the woods. What did he look like?"

"I don't know." She stutters, thinking back. "It was almost like he..."

"Didn't have a face?"

"How did you know that?"

Jonathan told the two of us to get into his car and he would explain. Apparently, Joyce has been seeing this figure in their living room, which explains why the Christmas lights are hung up in early November.

Once we reached the school, the three of us went to the dark room while Jonathan started developing the other photos.

"Did your mom say anything else?" Nancy asked him. "Like, um, where it might have gone to? Or..."

"No, just that it came out of the wall." He mumbled, trying to focus.

"Why didn't you guys tell anyone?" I asked.

"Your dad and I didn't believe her. It sounded too crazy to be real but now... who knows." He answered.

How could my dad not tell me this? Some creature could be running around in Hawkins and he didn't believe her?

I sat on one of the chairs while they watched the photo being developed. Their voices were quiet while she asked him about photography and inched closer.

"That's it," Nancy said, pointing to the picture.

I shot up and walked over to look. There was definitely a creepy faceless creature in the photo.

"That's what I saw." She restates.

"Holy shit," I said in shock.

"My mom... I thought she was crazy. 'Cause she said that's not Will's body. That he's alive."Jonathan's voice cared the same amount of surprise as ours.

"And if he's alive..."

"Then Barb." Nancy cut me off.

Later that night, Jonathan dropped off Nancy and then me. Dad never came home. I locked the door and grabbed the gun under my bed, laying it next to my nightstand just in case. I barely slept that night.

✮

The front door opened and I peeked through the curtains and saw Dad's car in the driveway.

"You're up this early?" He asked.

"Yeah, Will's funeral is at nine," I responded, pulling out my funeral dress. "Are you coming?"

"I don't think so, kiddo. There is some stuff down at the station that I need to take care of."

"Of course you do."

I shut the bathroom door before he could say anything else.

There's no real reason that I should be upset with him. He can't tell me any information about an open case but I don't know, I assumed since the Byers and I are close he would tell me what was going on.

After I showered, I dried my curly hair and got dressed. This was the same dress I wore to my sister's funeral years ago, shoved in the back of my closet where I wouldn't see it unless I specifically looked for it. Nothing about it was special.

Before going to the kitchen, I put a cardigan over it and grabbed my boots. There were Pop-Tarts on top of the fridge. I stood on top of one of the wooden chairs to reach it instead of asking for help.

"C'mon kid, is this necessary?" He asked, watching me climb down.

I ignored his question, mumbling a quick goodbye then heading out to my freezing car. While I waited to see if the heat would turn on, I looked at myself in the mirror.

There wasn't much makeup on my face. I curled my lashes but didn't bother with mascara, just a bit of foundation and a dark red lipstick that I used as a blush. The mascara would have been a waste anyway because I can barely keep it together now.

The heat kicked on while I was driving over to the gravesite. My car knew I needed some sort of win today. It was busy when I got there. I parked two spots from Jonathan's car, next to the Wheelers.

"Hey." Nancy greeted, walking towards me.

"Hey." I sniffled.

"Has your dad heard anything about...?"

"I'm not sure. I doubt he even knows about Barb, he's been so busy with Will's case."

She nodded. I watched her little brother, Mike join his other friends over by Jonathan and Joyce. The second I saw the casket, I froze.

"You okay?" Nancy asked, reaching for my hand.

"Yeah, it just hit me all of a sudden," I said, letting my guard down for a minute.

"I know you are close with them so, I can't imagine."

I nodded and she pulled me into a hug.

✮

We stayed next to each other while the service started, passing tissues from inside my coat to each other. When the priest finished and everyone split up, I noticed a shadow lingering behind me. Three shadows specifically.

"Can I help you boys?" I asked, Will's friends. The only one I could recognize was Mike.

"Yeah, um, I'm Dustin." The curly-haired kid smiled at me.

"Nice to meet you, Dustin."

"Nice to meet you too, this is Lucas and Mike."

He pointed to the other boys. They both waved awkwardly. It was sweet.

"You're Johanna Hopper, right?"

"Correct." I nod, grabbing a cup from the refreshments table and filling it with the black coffee in a pot. "Let me guess, you want to know about my dad?"

"Well, sort of. We want to know what he knows."

The kid comes off a little strong but I'll give him credit.

"Join the club," I mumbled into my cup of coffee; taking a sip. "Look, I wish I could help you guys out, but he hasn't told me anything."

"Hm..." The young boy thought to himself for a moment. "Well, if you find anything out, could you let us know please?"

"You'll be the first person I call."

I spotted Jonathan and Nancy sitting outside still; leaving the three boys inside. They stared at a map when I squatted, causing them both to jump.

"What are we looking at?" I ask.

"Where were you?" Nancy asked me.

"I got some coffee then your brother's friends tried to interrogate me for information." I pointed back to the map. "What's this?"

"Mapping out where this thing has been seen," Jonathan says. "There's the woods where Will disappeared, Steve's house, and my house."

"That's really close." I squinted.

"Yeah, it's gotta be within a mile or something." He said. "Whatever this thing is, it's not traveling far."

"You want to go out there," Nancy states, looking at Jonathan.

"We might not find anything."

"I found something. And if we do see it... then what?"

"Easy, We kill it," I answered, standing back up.

"She's right." Jonathan agreed, walking out to Lonnie's car.

Inside the glove box was a revolver and a small box of bullets. I watched as Nancy began to realize that we were serious.

"Are you guys serious?" She asked, looking around suspiciously.

Jonathan stuffed his pockets and then annoyingly stated, "What? Do you want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?"

"And you're okay with this?" She turns to me, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not thrilled by the idea but it's our only option." I shrugged.

"Guys, this is a terrible idea!"

"You can go tell someone but they won't believe you. Look at Joyce, half of the town is calling, her a madwoman when she could be right about this."

"Doesn't she deserve to know?"

"Yeah, and I'll tell her... after that thing is dead," Jonathan said, shutting the car door.

The three of us made plans to meet back up in two hours. I told Nancy I would pick her up and meet Jonathan in the woods.

"Dad?" I yelled when I walked through the front door.

His car was missing but the television and the lights were still on. The living room was torn to pieces.

What did he do in here while I was gone?

"I'm so not cleaning this shit up," I said under my breath.

In my room, I changed out of my dress, putting it back in the depths of my closet, and threw on a brown top with some blue jeans. I hurried to take my gun out to my car, along with a box of bullets from Dad's room.

The drive to Nancy's wasn't that long, fifteen minutes. I drove down her street and noticed a familiar vehicle in her driveway.

"Johanna?"

Steve's voice traveled through my windows. He and Nancy across from each other with a bat in between them.

"You two are hanging out today?" He questions Nance.

"Yeah." She quickly answers.

"What are you guys going to do?"

"Uh,"

"Um..."

Nancy and I struggled to think of a good lie before she blurted out, "We're going shopping."

"Really?" He tilts his head and then looks at me.

I shrug, listening to Nancy ramble about some sale going on. He finally let her go after two minutes but not before forcing me to witness yet another one of their extremely public, borderline face-sucking, kisses.

Without thinking, I honked my horn and startled them.

"Sorry, I'm just really excited about the sale," I said, watching Steve walk away.

Steve drove off and Nancy finally climbed into my car, placing the bat in the backseat next to my book bag.

"Remind me why you like that douchebag, again?" I say as we pull out onto the main road.

"He's not a douchebag." She defends.

"And you're not a liar."

She rolls her eyes playfully before turning on Blondie.

✮

As soon as I parked, I bolted out and grabbed my stuff. Jonathan was already shooting at a couple of beer cans.

"Aren't you supposed to be aiming for the cans?" I teased, watching another bullet miss the target.

"Actually, you see the spaces in between the cans? Yeah, I'm aiming for those." He chuckled.

Nancy and I put our bags down. I grabbed my handgun and started putting bullets in while Jonathan and Nancy began talking.

"Have you ever shot one of these before?" He asked her.

"Have you met my parents?" She jokes.

"I haven't shot one since I was ten." He shares. "My dad took me hunting on my birthday, and made me kill a rabbit."

"A rabbit?"

"He thought it would make me more of a man or something. I cried for a week."

Nancy and I both started laughing before she pulled us back into the conversation, turning to me, "Let me guess, Hopper taught you how to shoot?"

I nodded my head and fired one bullet into a Bud Light can, knocking it off of the wood. Nancy looked over at me, surprised by the shot.

"After my sister passed and my mom left. He knew I would have to be home alone sometimes due to work so, he made me practice."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I'm way better than Jonathan."

"I hate to admit it, but she is." He agreed.

"Wow." She mouthed then looked back to him. "And your dad?"

He cocks the gun and thinks for a second, "Well, I guess at some point, he and my mother loved each other but... I wasn't around for that part."

Nancy reaches out for the revolver and Jonathan tells her where to aim.

"I don't think my parents ever loved each other." She says, watching the cans.

"They must've married for some reason," I said.

"My mom was young. My dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, and came from a good family." She raises the gun, picking her target. "So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac... and started their nuclear family."

"Screw that," Jonathan mumbled.

"Yeah, screw that."

Nancy's bullet flawlessly, hit the can on her first try. It was impressive, to say the least.

"Take notes on how to shoot like a girl, Byers," I said, taking another shot. Nancy's bubbly laugh practically bounced off of every tree. Jonathan just shot his head while we kept shooting.

Eventually, Jonathan knocked a few cans over. Surprisingly it was fun hanging out with the two of them. We all swapped stories about our childhoods, most of which weren't super depressing.

✮

After a while, we started looking around for any creatures. I walked ahead of them with my gun in my hands. They were talking together but I wasn't paying attention until I heard yelling.

When I looked back they were standing a few feet away arguing. Just as I was about to go over there, Jonathan caught up to me, leaving Nancy behind.

"Everything alright?" I asked him.

"Yeah, everything's fine."

Everything was not fine. Nancy stayed behind us but eventually, it got dark out so we pulled out our flashlights. I could hear something moving around us so I stopped.

"What are you-"

"Shhh." I paused, listening closer. "Do you guys hear that?"

"Yeah." They both said at the same time.

We walked a bit further until we spotted a deer lying on the ground, covered in blood. It must have been attacked by a bigger animal. Nancy and I crouched down to get a closer look.

Poor deer.

"Looks like he's been hit," Nance says, looking at Jonathan and me. "We can't just leave it like this."

We all looked at the gun in Nancy's hand, we all knew what was going through her head.

"I'll do it," Jonathan stated, reaching for the gun. Nancy and I shared a look before she handed it over to him.

"Are you sure? I can do it if you prefer." I offered.

"I'm not ten anymore."

Nance and I stood back while Jonathan cocked the gun. Just as he was getting ready to shoot the deer was swept away by something. We jumped back, gasping.

"What the hell was that?" She said, scared to pick the flashlight up.

"I don't know."

None of us saw what took that deer. One second it was lying there, barely clinging to life then the next second it completely disappeared.

We walked around, looking for whatever it was. There was nothing there but the blood left behind from the deer.

"Where did it go?" Nancy asked.

"I don't know," I responded.

"Do you guys see any more blood?"

"No." We both said.

We were spread out looking, Jonathan went east and I went west. I figured Nancy went with Jonathan when I could barely hear her boots crunch under the autumn leaves. I swear it was only two or three minutes apart when I heard Jonathan yelling for Nancy. I took off running back to where we found the deer.

"Nancy!" He yelled louder than before.

"Jonathan, where's Nance?" I said, panicking.

"I don't know! I can't find her. I thought she went with you!"

"I thought she was with you!"

That's when we both realized Nancy was gone.

[yarameijer]

So, you can call me the biggest AR fan out there (I finished the whole thing in two days. Even if it meant staying up till 5:00 AM) but like

Arc 4 IS GONNA BE SICK

I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHATS UP WITH SHINDOU AND SHUU

also, i have to give you like the ultimate respect for the actual complex Keshin stuff you put in IT WAS AMAZING (i’m still mourning the loss of Pegasus but i’m still happy) also you appear to be the only person giving Fifth Sector the amount of hype it deserves, I mean Level-5 totally skimmed over that and had us underestimating their actual threat.

(One could argue that this was done because the next obstacles were time-travellers and aliens, but STILL)

also, finally a story where Tenma being a second stage child actually has some importance. Like the fact being randomly dropped in the series and everyone going WOW then ignoring it was… disappointing.

also, tip for Arc 4: MORE ANGST KILL TENMA IF YOU NEED TO IM A BEAST FEEDING OFF OF NEGATIVE EMOTIONS

(although i really appreciate the humourous elements in AR)

also… the ‘MORE ANGST’ also goes for OoS, take your time, write away :)

P.S. i will be highly affronted if i don’t see you as a successful author in the future. you deserve it

Hello!! I'm happy to hear you enjoy AR so much, but I think there might be some people ready to fight you for the title of ''biggest fan'', I should set up a fighting ring :'D Just kidding or am I

Thank you so much for your kind words! AR has been a wild ride to write, that's for sure, and I'm thankful that so many people have stuck with me on this journey through these years!

Keshin are awesome and super weird and I'm going to have as much fun with it as I can! And Fifth Sector was never actually supposed to be as bad as it got, but when looking at the bigger picture and considering everything they've done... yeah, it wasn't pretty. And then, like so many plot points in AR do, it got away from me. I think Level 5 also didn't go into too much detail because, well, it's a kids show. They can't make it too dark, and while the aliens and the time travel were certainly inventive, they didn't really make it 'dark' either, in my opinion.

I'm actually writing a story about Tenma being a SSC and it's my personal favorite out of all my works! It´s a pretty complex one though, so it´s gonna take a while to finish. Tbh Tenma being revealed as a SSC in the series honestly feels like clickbait :'D

Ohhh boy if really you think killing a character is the best way to add angst to a story then you are in for a wild ride.

The humor is essential!! Only makes the angst hit harder. It hurts more if you've seen the characters being happy :D

Thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy my future works as well!!

[saralovesyouu]

“Come back to me, I’ll wait for you.”

Devastated and exhausted, you were still mourning losing Mitsuba a second time. You refused to get out of bed, and only did when Teru asked you to because your grades were a mess. Kou decided to show you the photos Mitsuba had took before. The incident. You tried spending most of your time with Yokoo and Satou, who didn’t really know why you were upset but still tried to comfort you. After the you did your part of helping them get rid of the hands, you thought you were done with supernaturals for the day. But when Kou dragged you off saying Yashiro had gone missing, and you needed to enter some boundary and he wanted you there. You kind of had to tag along. But unexpectedly, you find someone there.

Warnings: Cursing, reader feeling like shit (‘m sorry about that), comforting from Yokoo and Satou, Kou also sorta feeling like shit, your aunt trying to help you out of bed but still keep you safe, some angst again, etc,.

(A/N) : Last chapter of Act I!! Hope you enjoy it. I’ve been feeling like absolute shit these past few days so writing this to distract myself has made me feel so much better. I’m pretty sure this is proofread but if there’s anything wrong with it lmk!!

Prev. << Next end of Act I

You couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed, not for anything. Not even after the countless times Yokoo and Satou begged you to come, not after Yashiro came over to try and get you up, not even after your aunt talked to you about it.

You just couldn’t.

You’d spent more nights crying than you could ever count, and kept thinking back to that moment. The squelching noise, that scream. It all haunted you like there was no tomorrow.

Your aunt had to bring you in food, and make sure you actually ate it. She sat with you while you cried about it, and she hugged you through it. She even called in sick from work to stay at home just for a day to comfort you.

“Shhh.. hey it’s okay.” She tried to reassure for the nth time this day.

You didn’t seem to be getting better.

“It’s not okay! There should’ve been something I could’ve done! Something I didn’t do.” You cried into your pillow, eyes red and puffy from all your tears.

She pursed her lips, not knowing what to do to comfort you. Nothing seemed to help. All she could do was make sure you ate and drink a little water. And of course make sure you didn’t do anything stupid, she was still a bit paranoid from what happened.

Out of no where, there was a knock on the door.

“Ah.. I’ll go get it.” She said, giving you one last pitiful glance before heading downstairs.

“Hey is (Y/N) here?” You heard someone say.

“Yeah she’s upstairs in her room.” Your aunt replied.

“Okay thank you.” They answered.

You heard footsteps, and groaned.

“Look Yokoo, I already said I don’t want to get up—“

“It’s not Yokoo.” Teru chuckled.

He walked over to your bed and sat with you.

“You doing okay? You and Kou both seem really out of it.” He asked, moving his hand to rub soothing circles in your back.

“No.” Was all you could answer, knowing how he felt about spirits you knew you probably shouldn’t tell him why.

“Listen, you need to come back to school. Your grades are plummeting so bad right now, and your friends miss you a lot.” Teru explained, making you lightly chuckle.

“Great, thanks so much for adding more stress! I thought it was impossible but somehow you did.” You answered sarcastically with a sigh.

He only playfully rolled his eyes, “Look, if it helps anything—I’ll help you with your missing work.”

“Just please come back to school? We all miss you a lot. And I think both you and Kou could use some support.” He pleaded, his pretty blue eyes sparkled with determination to get you out of bed.

You groaned, falling back onto your bed.

“I don’t know..” you mumbled.

“I won’t try to exorcise Hanako for..” he paused “a few days.”

You snorted, shaking your head with a fond smile.

“Deal.”

He smiled.

“Okay. It’s only 9:20, so you still have time to get to school. Even if it’s late, don’t worry I’ll excuse you.” He assured, “so get ready and I’ll walk you to school.”

You sighed as you got out of bed, and he went to wait downstairs for you.

You got dressed, and went into the bathroom to wash your face and do the rest of your skincare routine so you didn’t look like you’d been crying so much, and after you were satisfied that you didn’t look like a total mess as bad, you walked downstairs to find Teru.

He was sitting on the couch, just scrolling around on his phone. You went to go out on your shoes, and swung your backpack over your shoulder. He turned his phone off and stood up.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

.

.

Teru walked you into the middle school divison, and quickly took you with him to the student council room.

“Hang on, wait one second let me just do something real quick.” He hummed, unlocking his computer and opened what seemed to be an attendance sheet and marked your name off as ‘excused tardy’.

“Okay, ‘m gonna go drop you off at class and tell the teacher that you were late cause of my fault.” He explained, already leading you towards your second period class.

He opened the door for you and allowed you in, and went to go whisper something to the teacher. Yokoo looked at you excitedly, and Satou smiled upon seeing you. You didn’t see Kou in his seat, so you assumed he was out with Hanako and Yashiro.

“What made you feel like getting up out of bed?” Yokoo asked curiously.

“Are you hungry? I have some sweets with me.” Satou asked, digging around in his backpack to look for said sweets.

“Teru dragged me out of bed.” You exaggerated with a sigh, leaning against Yokoo dramatically.

Satou just shook his head with a smile, and Yokoo played along pretending to catch you.

“Well did you sleep good at least?” Yokoo asked.

You paused for a moment.

“..Definitely.”

“Liar.” Satou sighed “Here, have some.” He said, offering you some of his sweets.

You took a few, thanking Satou.

“You seemed pretty down enough to not come to school for a few days.. you hadn’t been that down since Mitsuba—“ Yokoo stopped himself.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” He winced apologetically, realizing what he just brought up.

You pursed your lips, but you couldn’t get mad at Yokoo. You knew he and Satou were only worried and meant no harm.

“It’s fine, but can someone catch me up on what we’re learning? I’m a little lost.” You chuckled nervously, trying lighten up the mood—trying to forget about Mitsuba.

“Yeah, no problem!” Yokoo chirped.

Yokoo and Satou explained the lesson for you, letting you copy down their notes so you wouldn’t fall too behind. You groaned as you leaned back in your seat, already hating how much you missed in your absence.

“Where’s Kou by the way?” You asked, sitting back up after a few more moments.

“Oh him? All he said is he’d be busy, I don’t think he’s been in class at all.” Satou hummed.

“You should probably go see him, he didn’t look too good.” Yokoo suggested, kicking his feet lightly.

“I will after class.”

.

.

The bell had long since rung, and kids rushed out to their next class. Yokoo and Satou had said their goodbyes and told you they’d see you at lunch, so you were trying to get your stuff altogether.

“Don’t think of running off with those cockroaches.” Teru sighed as he waited by the door for you.

You jumped a bit, not really expecting him to wait for you after class.

“They aren’t cockroaches..” you mumbled, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and he gave you a look that said ‘are you sure about that?’.

You sighed, “Okay, maybe some are. But they aren’t all.” you tried to explain.

You paused, biting your lip a bit “But I’m not gonna do anything having to do with the supernatural anytime soon, so I won’t run off.”

Teru gave you a satisfied smile.

“Why are you even here? Are you going to make sure I don’t skip off to Hanako and the others or?” You trailed off.

“No,” Teru denied “I was actually here to pick you up.”

“I talked to the teachers and let them know you’d be with me for the rest of the day,” he hummed.

“Working on your missing assignments.”

You groaned as you made your way towards the door, looking at Teru with pleading eyes as if it would convince him to just let you go with the others. He smiled and shook his head fondly, leading you towards the student council room.

“Oh and by the way,” he said opening the door for you “I let Kou know you’re here so I’m sure he’ll stop by soon.”

“Soon like now?” Kou asked as he entered the student council room.

“I thought you’d stop by later but yeah, soon.” Teru confirmed with a hum.

“Can I borrow (Y/N)?” Kou asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“For what?” Teru asked.

“Something.” Was all Kou managed to mutter.

“No, sorry. After she finishes at least half of this work,” Teru emphasized, referring to the small stack of packets and papers that you thought to be your missing assignments “then you can take her for a bit.”

You groaned, flopping down on the seat in front of Teri’s desk.

“So mean.” Kou mumbled with a pout, walking out.

“So,” Teru cleared his throat, dropping a small stack of papers in front of you “let’s get started.”

You pouted with a whine, letting your head fall forward and hitting the desk in frustration.

.

.

The bell had rung a fourth time since you’ve gotten there, and it was now time for lunch.

“Well, your a little bit close to halfway done.” Teru mumbled holding up a pinch of the paperwork, holding it up to examine it.

Kou burst through the door, swinging it open.

“It’s lunch time now, and I’m pretty sure (Y/N)’s hungry.” Kou said, trying to indirectly hint if it was okay to borrow you now.

“Go ahead but be back right after.” Teru instructed, and you just pouted with a nod.

“Great,” Kou mumbled, grabbing hold of your wrist “will definitely—“ he sprinted out with you “not.”

Kou laughed a bit, but when he noticed you didn’t seem to even smile his expression dropped.

He came to a stop, at the staircase leading up to the roof, sitting down on a bench nearby.

“You doing okay?” Kou asked.

“Not really.” You muttered, sitting by him.

“Well I have something to show you.” Kou smiled, bringing something from his backpack’s front pocket.

He took it out gingerly, as if it was the most fragilest of glass and would break with even the slightest wrong look.

They were Mitsuba’s developed pictures.

“I had them printed out as soon as I could..” he whispered, though he didn’t know why if it was just the two of you “I already looked at them last night, but—“ his voice cracked a bit as he chuckled lightly “I thought you might want to see them too.”

He carefully handed the small stack of photos to you, and you—just as carefully—took them.

There were many pictures.

Some were meant to be funny, and others were genuinely beautiful.

Like when Kou got attacked by the mother cat when he tried grabbing one of it’s kitten’s. Or when Mitsuba took that photo of Kou while he was standing on his shoulders.

There were also some like the birds nest, and of some he took while in the school garden. But the one that made you tear up—

Was the one he took of you and Kou.

You grit your teeth in frustration, in anger—thinking back to that moment.

“I’ll make that asshole pay one way or another.” You say through a choked out sob.

Kou looked at you with a solemn face, pursing his lips before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder “And I’ll be there to help you when you do.”

You looked at him, and he looked at you. And for the first time since you both had met, you didn’t laugh at the eye contact. Instead, your eyes welled up with regretful tears, tears of grievance at its finest.

“Oh, there you two are!” Yokoo exclaimed gleefully, practically skipping towards you both as Satou trailed behind him.

“What’re you two weirdo’s doing?” Satou joked, sitting beside you as Yokoo sat on the other side of Kou.

Yokoo shot him a glare after realizing you and Kou were on the verge of tears, and Satou immediately took the hint that now wasn’t the time for that.

“Wanna tell us what’s going on?” Satou finally said after a few moments of silence.

Yokoo pursed his lips when he got no answer from either of you, so he spoke up too.

“Look, whatever you both are going through. You can tell us, you know that right?” Yokoo asked, but continued after still the both of you didn’t answer “Just know we’re here for you. Whatever you guys are going through, we’ll get through it altogether.” he looked over at Satou “Right, Satou?”

“Yeah of course. We’re all friends, and as friends we have to look out for each other.” Satou agreed with a hum.

There was a few more seconds of silence before anyone spoke again.

“You ever know that feeling…” you finally managed to croak out after a while longer “when you thought you finally found something you lost a long while ago, someon—“ you stopped yourself before continuing “something very special to you, and then for someone to just. Snatch it out of your hands?”

Kou lightly chuckled, but it came out sadder than he intended “And when you actually got to see another side of a person you just met, and got to know them better—only for them to disappear the next second?”

Satou and Yokoo exchanged glances, as if they were trying to communicate with each other to see what you guys meant by that. But they found themselves empty minded.

“I don’t necessarily understand,” Yokoo started, already hugging Kou to provide some sort of comfort “but I know whatever it is. It’s really tough for you to be feeling like this.”

“Yeah,” Satou confirmed, hugging you too, connecting with Yokoo to form a group hug “we’re your friends. And as your friends we wanna tell you that you don’t have to go through this alone.”

And just then, you broke down in tears, babbling about how you lost someone so special to you a second time and this time you’ll never get them back. Kou followed soon after, except he just silently cried.

“Shhh.. there, there.” Yokoo whispered “Let it all out.”

The two boys hugged you both as you cried, comforting you in silence.

“God you guys are the best.” You hiccuped with a small chuckle that came out more as a sob.

Satou smiled, and Yokoo just replied “We know.”

.

.

After a while longer, the bell rang again. You, Satou, Kou, and Yokoo had been talking, the two mostly trying to distract you guys from crying—trying to get a smile out of you.

From around the corner, Teru came and you groaned.

“C’mon, it’s time to get back to your missing work.” Teru hummed, leaning against the wall as he waited for you to get up.

You pouted, but got up and said your goodbyes.

“You didn’t actually eat,” Teru began as you started walking back to the student council room “did you?”

And as if on cue, your stomach rumbled, and you flushed out of embarrassment. Teru sighed, turning in a different direction.

“Let’s get you something to eat.. I think I might have a spare lunch in the office.” Teru explained.

And he did, luckily for you. After taking one bite, you almost immediately recognized it as Kou’s cooking—and practically gobbled up the rest of it.

“Woah, slow down your going to end up choking.” Teru laughed.

“But it’s Kou’s cooking!” You pouted, taking another bite “You could never.”

“Okay that was ONE time.” Teru groaned, remembering how he nearly burnt down their kitchen.

“Yeah, that ‘ONE’ time was a near death experience for me.” You sighed dramatically, making Teru smile.

“It’s good to see your somewhat better now.” He hummed.

“What do you mean?” You asked, taking one last bite of the delicious lunch Kou prepared.

“I mean, your not as gloomy right now as you were earlier.” He smiled, ruffling your hair.

You swatted his hands away from your hair, “Must’ve been the magic of Kou’s cooking.”

“Must’ve.” Teru agreed, “Now that I know you won’t be complaining about an empty stomach,” he dropped the rest of your missing assignments in front of you “we can finish this.”

“So mean to me.”

.

.

For the next few days you tried to get over it. But I mean, you couldn’t, really. If you thought losing someone the first time was hard, imagine losing them a second time. Yokoo and Satou tried to help too, they kept you busy, and Yokoo even found out some way to let you in his soccer practice to ‘blow off some steam’ as he put it.

“God, I don’t understand how you’re able to do this for what?” You asked, taking a sip from the water bottle Yokoo had given you, to which he replied “About an hour and a half.”

“I can’t even last ten minutes.” You chuckled lightly.

“But you’re distracted, right?” He asked, gently nudging you with his shoulder.

You smiled, “I am actually.”

He smiled right back, “Then that’s all that matters.”

“Now c’mon, let’s go back to practice—“ Yokoo got up and beckoned you towards him, when Kou came along “Sorry Yokoo but I REALLY need to borrow. (Y/N) for a bit.”

“Okay, see you later then (Y/N).” Yokoo exclaimed as he ran back to the rest of his teammates.

“See ya!” You shouted after him.

“What is it?” You asked, turning around to Kou.

“There’s a bunch of hands, just popping around everywhere.” Kou explained “Hanako suggested we play with them so they’ll go away, so far it’s worked.”

“What is that have to do with me?” You sighed.

Kou gave you a playfully glare, rolling his eyes fondly.

“We could use the extra hands.” He hummed, making you chuckle a bit.

“Don’t you already have a lot?” You joked. “Need more hands to get rid of the extra hands.” You snorted.

“Well will you help?” Kou asked, he paused before adding “I know you’re trying to take a break from anything supernatural right now but we could use the help.”

You thought about it for a second, but gave in when you saw the pleading look in his eyes.

“Fine.” You sighed, making Kou cheer.

.

.

“That should be the last of them!” Hanako exclaimed, jumping around in the air excitedly.

“Whew.” You say, slumping against one of the bathroom stall doors.

Out of no where, a hand appeared from the bathroom mirror, and Yashiro approached it.

“Just one left!” Yashiro informed, looking back at it.

“That actually wore me out..” Hanako whined, making you chuckle “one of those guys hit me.”

You ‘coughed’, “Sounds like a major skill issue.” which earned you a playful glare from Hanako.

“Most of the pictures are all cleaned up too.” Kou confirmed, flipping through the yearbook.

“Wait..” Kou paused “now that I look at it.. you’re wearing a different uniform in this picture.”

“That’s from last year!” Yashiro chirped, looking over Kou’s shoulder to see better “When I was in middle school.”

“Cool!” Kou exclaimed.

“But wow,” he then continued “these are really good pictures.”

“Yeah! We had a kid from the photography club take them,” Yashiro hummed “I’m pretty sure his name should be on the last page.”

You and Kou gave each other a hesitant look, and you walked over to check too. And there it was.

Mitsuba Sousuke.

Out of no where, the hand from the mirror grabbed Yashiro’s wrist, and she hummed “What is it?”

“Have you decided what you want to pl—“ the hand cut her off, a mouth morphed onto its figure.

“Come to this side.”

It began to drag her inside the mirror.

“Yashiro!” Both Hanako and Kou panicked.

“Hanako!” Yashiro managed to yelp out.

Said ghost boy quickly got up “Grab my—“ but it was too late, his fingers just barely skimmed hers as she was sucked into the mirror like some type of portal.

“She’s…” Kou paused.

“gone.” I mumbled, and as if on cue—a droplet of water fell from the sink faucet.

Panicked, Kou got up and shouted “I’m coming Yashiro!” As he tried to force himself through the mirror.

“Kid! Stop it kid! Bad kid!” Hanako yelled, grabbing Kou from under his arms to pull him away from the mirror, making you giggle a bit at the way Hanako was referring to Kou as ‘kid’ “Don’t break the mirror!”

“That’s a boundary..” Hanako began to explain “specifically number 3’s”

“School mystery number three?” Kou asked.

“Yes.” Hanako muttered in agreement.

“I mean there’s a really only one supernatural mirror leading to this place—“ Hanako got interrupted.

“The hell of mirrors, right?” You asked “I don’t know how I know that but I do.”

“Yeah, so it has to be this one.” Hanako informed before sighing “I would like to go with her immediately but..” he paused.

“To put it simply, when you go into number 3’s boundary it attacks you.. with things you don’t want to see. Things you’re afraid of.” He looked at you both before continuing “In other words, the strength of the boundary changes based on who’s inside. If I’m not careful, I could make it stronger just by going I’m there.”

But you and Kou weren’t really paying attention, you were both looking at the yearbook Mitsuba had taken pictures for.

“Hey have you two been listening to me at all?” Hanako whined, grabbing onto your shoulders.

In a panic, Kou shut the book at faced him “You were telling us about how filthy your mind is sir!”

That alone made you burst into laughter as Hanako stared in disbelief, then muttered “Yeah well.. I won’t deny that.”

“We have to figure out what to do and fast.” Kou sighed, you felt bad seeing him look so worried for Yashiro’s safety.

“Yeah.” Hanako mumbled.

“Because number 3’s approach is most likely going to depend on what Yashiro is afraid of.” You mumbled, earning a shocked glance from Hanako which turned into a smirk.

“Hey you’re a quick learner aren’t you?” He teased “You caught on faster than Mr. Exorcist here.”

“I know you said you didn’t want anything to do with the supernatural or ghosts for a while, but I think Mr. Tsuchigomori might know something.” Hanako rambled.

“So can you please help?” They asked.

“Please?” Kou begged “For your favorite exorcist.”

“And your favorite apparition.” Hanako added with a sly grin.

“Who said you two were my favorites?” You asked sarcastically, but still smiled.

“Alright fine, but if he doesn’t know something I won’t be helping out.” You finally gave in.

Hanako and Kou both cheered, jumping around like children anxious to go trick-or-treating on Halloween.

.

.

Yashiro’s yelp seemed to echo aimlessly around the dimly lit room, hands began to sprout from the floor. She winced as she was met with something, something wet.

“Water!” She panicked, scrambling to her feet.

Little scale-like pieces began to emerge on her soft skin as she went on to see where she was at, or more so who’s boundary she was in.

Thump, thump, thump.

Footsteps? She thought, swiftly turning her head in panic that something dangerous might’ve been lingering in the dark.

“Hello?” she called, trying to see what she could in the dark room.

She saw a figure, one she thought was feminine, but upon closer examination she found it was a boy. More so, a middle school boy. His eyes looked a bit sunken, as the hands surrounded him. He tilted his head up, to look at her.

“Who are you?” She asked, tilting her head as well to get a better view of him.

Yashiro had a million questions running through her head, who was this boy? Was he a ghost? What’s he doing here? She was dragged out of her trance when said boy was towering over her.

Now that he was closer, Yashiro realized how he looked and a blush covered her face. His rosy eyes startled silently at her, before speaking up.

“You..” he called.

“Yes?” Yashiro panicked, standing up straight.

The boy looked left, then right, before sighing. His once innocent look was replaced with a taunting smirk.

“..have pretty fat ankles, huh?”

Yashiro froze in place, a bit dumbfounded that someone so adorable would say something so vulgar.

The boy sighed, crossing his arms.

“Aww, I thought someone was finally here to help me, but it’s just some horseradish..”

“I-I’m not a horseradish!” Yashiro retorted defensively with a pout.

“Yeah yeah whatever.” Mitsuba sighed.

Yashiro kept asking questions, and Mitsuba didn’t have any intention to answer much or any of them, so he walked to the door at the end of the corridor and opened it.

He then walked over to Yashiro and grabbed her by the little accessories on her belt. “This way.” He said.

“This is one of the boundary’s of the seven mysteries..” he explained after a while “the hell of mirrors.”

“Or..” he paused, stopping in his tracks to look at Yashiro with an unsure look “I guess that’s it’s name.”

“But that’s all I know.”

Yashiro looked around in amazement, everywhere she turned there were mirrors of different shapes, sizes, colors, and designs. But there was one thing they all had in common.

They all had an eerie feeling to it, it sent shivers down Yashiro’s spine.

“There’re mirrors.. everywhere.” She mumbled in awe.

“Yeah, I can see that Ms. Obvious.” Mitsuba sighed, playfully rolling his eyes.

But Yashiro wasn’t paying enough attention to care, she was too busy thinking.

“I’m Mitsuba.”

Yashiro made a small ‘huh?’ noise before turning to look at him.

“I’m stuck here and I have no idea to get out of this mess.” He complained, slumping down against the railings.

“Mitsuba? You’re..” she paused, eyeing him curiously “from the middle school division, right?”

“Are you a ghost? And..” she paused to look at him “have we met somewhere?”

“I..” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat “don’t know.”

“Who cares? None of that matters now anyways.” He sighed, his rosy eyes flinched a bit, as if maybe trying to hold back tears.

“I guess we’ll have to get out of this place first! But..” she paused “why did you bring me here?”

Mitsuba didn’t say anything for a moment or two, clearing his throat and pointing at the hands still sprouting from the floor.

“Well I wanted someone who could help me,” he explained “so I asked them to find someone for me.”

The hands excitedly exclaimed a small “yeah!” popping around enthusiastically.

“Are they friends of yours, Mitsuba?” Yashiro asked sweetly, bending down to shake their hands.

Mitsuba scoffed with an offended expression.

“Are you suggesting I’m friends with my right hand??” He shouted “Would you please not be so vulgar!”

“I didn’t say they were right hands..” Yashiro mumbled, looking over at a few left hands.

“Besides..” Mitsuba sighed “the only friend I can remember, is..”

He looked at Yashiro and then away.

“Wait why am I telling you this?” Mitsuba scoffed.

“Who is it?” Yashiro asked.

“What do you mean?” Mitsuba replied, tilting his head a bit to show his confusion.

“Your friend,” she insisted “the one you could remember?”

“It’s..” he looked hesitant to tell her, but then thought she might know where to find her, so she gave in.

“Her name’s (Y/N)..” he whispered, Yashiro just managed to hear.

“(Y/N)?” Yashiro repeated.

“Yeah.. it’s kind of a weird story. I don’t know why she’s the only one I remember. I just remember waking up, no memory of anything or anyone.”

“Just her.”

Yashiro gave him a pitiful look, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well,” she began “first let’s get out of here. And then, I think I might have an idea of where she might be.” she said with a smile.

“Really?” He asked excitedly, shooting up from his slouching position.

“Of course.” Yashiro confirmed.

“Well then..” he mumbled, looking up at Yashiro, leaning his head down on his arms and batting his pretty eyelashes at her “will you help me out of here?”

Yashiro felt a pang in her heart, to her, Mitsuba looked like an innocent puppy. And when he saw that look of awe in her eyes, he knew his charm worked.

“I can’t make any promises,” she cleared her throat “but this isn’t my first time in a place like this. So I’m sure we can find our way out somehow.”

“God..” he smiled softly “thank you, Yashiro.”

Yashiro put her hand over her chest, her eyes tearing up dramatically as she gushed over him.

“What is it?” Mitsuba asked innocently.

“O-Oh..” Yashiro stuttered “it’s nothing!”

She turned her head away with a smile, and each time she wasn’t looking, Mitsuba made a face to mock her.

.

.

They continued to walk aimlessly around the boundary, looking at all the mirrors as they passed by.

“Mitsuba,” Yashiro spoke up after a while, uncomfortable with the silence “this is your first time in a boundary, right?” she then gave him a proud smile “Not to brag or anything, but this is my fourth time in one!”

“It is my first time..” Mitsuba admited “but—“

“Then as your upper-classman, or- err.. woman? I’ll teach you all about boundaries!” She exclaimed excitedly, grabbing his sleeve-covered hand with her own.

———

After a while of Yashiro explaining the basic understanding of a boundary as they further explored the place, Mitsuba nodded and ‘okay’ed’ everything she said.

“Woah.” He mumbled in astonishment at the new information he was given.

Before Yashiro could make a proud remark, he snickered “You seem to know an awful lot about this for a living person.”

“Scary..” he said, backing away in ‘fear’ playfully.

.

.

The three of you made your way to the library where Mr. Tsuchigomori usually would be. Not giving him a chance to ask why you all are there, you begin to all try to explain at once.

“Wait, back up a few steps. One at a time.” He sighs, almost like a father telling his children to wait their turn to talk.

Before either you or Hanako get the chance to speak first, Kou beats you both to it—and explains the whole situation.

“Why are you even bothering me with this..?” Mr. Tsuchigomori groaned, rubbing his forehead as if it will soothe the annoying headache the three of you were to him.

“Because!” Hanako wailed “It’s been two hours since they took Yashiro! And I can’t get into number 3’s boundary!”

“Yeah!” You sighed with a pout, very much worried for your friend.

“The kids and I even tried begging on our hands and knees for number 3 to let us in! But it didn’t work!” Hanako cried, dramatically flapping his arms all over the place.

You smacked the back of his head “Stop that, we didn’t even go that far.” you groaned.

“But still! We would’ve if it meant number 3 would let us in!” Hanako wailed yet again, clinging to your sleeve.

“Please spider-face!” Kou finally exclaimed after seeing a moment from where he could talk.

The sudden name made you snort, clasping a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from bursting into laughter. Kou smiled, seeing as this had been the first time you’d smiled since the incident with Mistuba.

“It’s Mr...” Hanako corrected.

“Whatever! Mr. Spider Face!” Kou yet again exclaimed, clasping his hands together as if to beg, making you finally let your strained laughter flow from your lips.

“Yes! Please help us Mr. Spider Face!” You snickered, doing the same gesture as Kou, you both were now laughing maniacally at this point.

“You little..” Mr. Tsuchigomori sighed, you swore you saw his eyebrow twitching.

“I can’t let Yashiro get hurt..” Hanako spoke up, after having going silent for a while.

You and Kou both turned to him, confused by the sincerity in his voice. The Hanako you knew to be flirtatious and a pervert and sometimes even a jerk, being serious for once? It was a sight to see for sure.

“Tell me Mr. Tsuchigomori..” he uttered, finally looking up after staring at the seemingly more interesting floor for so long “won’t you help us?”

Even the disguised supernatural looked shocked to see the ghost so genuine, so with a sigh, he got up.

“Well, I do have an idea.” He hummed, walking over to a specific bookshelf.

He moved a couple of books to reveal Yako snoozing on the bookshelf. Effortlessly, he grabbed her, and tossed her over to Hanako—who luckily caught her. You, Kou, and Hanako looked down at the Nogitsune in Hanako’s arms.

“Number 2?” Hanako asked “Why?”

“Hear me out.” Mr. Tsuchigomori sighed, sitting back down at his desk “The seven mysteries boundaries each serve to oversee a certain aspect of the school.”

“My ‘book stacks’ manage records, the clock keepers manage ‘time’, and number 2 manages ‘space.” He explained “If you go through her boundary you can get pretty much anywhere in the school.”

“That includes number 3’s boundary?” You asked, looking down at Yako.

“Pretty much.” Mr. Tsuchigomori sighed.

“But I thought Yashiro busted up her boundary?” Kou asked.

“Oh Kou.. poor, sweet, dumb little Kou.” You snickered, making said boy glare at you, more like aggressively side-eyeing you.

Mr. Tsuchigomori shook his head with a fond smile, before continuing “Oh that.. all she really did was take her right to manage it. The boundary itself is still existing. But with its overseer gone.. it’s probably a mess.”

“Isn’t that right echinococcus?” He snickered, making the latter snap up with a growl.

“Shut up emo spider!” Yako retorted, making you snicker.

“Emo spider..” you snorted in an almost whisper.

“And why should I even help you! I could care less what happens to your assistant!” Yako crossed her arms, turning her head with a ‘hmph!’.

“Beecause we’re your favorites?” You asked hopefully, but she didn’t seem to budge.

“Kitsune udon.” Hanako spoke, holding up his butcher knife as if to threaten her.

“Huh?” Yako gasped offendedly “I- It’s not even my problem!”

“Udon.”

“Fine..” Yako finally huffed, knowing Hanako wouldn’t go through with it—but still wanted to help him out.

.

.

.

“Let’s see…” Yako hummed, walking towards the bottom of the stairs.

“This is it right?” Kou asked.

“You’re kidding right?” You asked in disbelief, giving Kou a ‘are you stupid?’ look.

“Hey I was just making sure!” Kou whined, elbowing you in the side, which resulted in you two giggling and playfully shoving each other.

“Here we go!” Yako sung, breaking your guys’s laughter “One,” one at a time you were taking steps up the stairs “two,” and another “three..”

“Four.”

The Misaki Stairs were nothing new to you, you had come here with the trio before in search for Yashiro’s friend, Aoi. And hearing that it had been all out of whack since Yashiro destroyed it’s yoshiro, you weren’t surprised to look out into the distance and for the large empty void to be staring right back at you.

Though it was filled with pretty flowers to the brim, and sunny skies something still felt off. Like something was out of place.

“It’s..” Hanako marveled, staring out in disbelief.

“Woah!” Kou grinned, looking around like a child trying to pick which ride to go on first at an amusement park “It’s so pretty now!”

“Yeah..” you murmured, not being able to shake off the eerie feeling it gave you, but seeing as the other two seemed at ease—you tried your best to forget about it.

“I’ll show you to number 3’s boundary,” Yako hummed, now in human form “just keep up.”

The “click-clack” and “tut-tut” of your shoes against the stairs as you climbed was the only thing to fill the silence. You looked down from the stairs, only to be met with a void. It was empty. So empty it made you shiver, so you moved your focus elsewhere. Perhaps towards the flowers at the bottom of the stairs…

“Hey fox lady?” Kou finally spoke up, breaking the  deafening silence.

“What do you want stupid brat?” Yako spat, not turning back to even glance at him as he spoke.

“You know how before your rumor changed and you went totally crazy?” Kou asked, making you widen your eyes at the insensitive comment and elbow his side, making him glare at you as he winced “and you attacked me and the other students.”

“You like bringing up unpleasant memories, don’t you?” Yako scoffed, but you didn’t miss the way she winced at the mention of the things she had done before “What’s your point?”

“Oh it’s just.. I was wondering what that felt like.” Kou mumbled, now feeling unsure if it was okay to ask, though he felt the need to.

“What? Why would you wanna know that?! Talk about poor taste!” Yako yapped, turning to glare at Kou “I knew Misaki was the only human worth answering! The rest are lower than insects!”

Feeling a bit of pity, and knowing how curious he must have been cause you were too you placed a gentle hand on Kou’s shoulder and spoke. “Hey, give him a break. I understand what he said might have been a tad insensitive but..” you paused, looking down at the ground “recently, we had a friend of ours go a bit berserk after his rumor changed. And we- I mean Kou’s just curious if when your rumor changed, was it still you?”

“They’re kinda like you, huh number 2?” Hanako chuckled, but Yako kept her back to you three.

“Well..” Yako finally murmured as you all continued up the steps “it didn’t feel good, at least when I look back at it now. But..” she paused, and she looked unsure if she should continue, but when she looked at you two who were listening so intently, she couldn’t help but continue “It was definitely me. It was just a side of me that I kept bottled up, and it was forced out of me. That’s all.”

“Okay..” Kou mumbled, clearly unsure. You didn’t miss how his eyes shifted back down to the yearbook in his hands, and you patted his shoulder, as if to tell him I know how you feel.

“So if you tried to say something to your friend, even if he didn’t understand it, it still probably reached him.” That alone gave Kou hope, maybe. Just maybe, that last encounter with Mitsuba, he was able to talk to him.

“It doesn’t matter how warped he is.” Yako continued, seeing how he seemed a bit confused “or even if he changed form or shape.”

“That boy.. is still that boy.”

Just as you were about to ask a question of your own, Yako and Hanako—who were walking in front of you, stopped walking. “We’re here.” Yako announced.

“I assume our chat is over?” She hummed in more of a question, but then added “We’ve arrived, number 3’s boundary is straight through here.”

“Is that a mirror?” Kou asked, poking the frame.

“I don’t know.. looks kind of eerie to me. Hanako mumbled, floating above it as he exclaimed it closely.

“Yeah.. I mean..” you murmured, running your finger along the glass when you felt a force pulling you in.

You let out a surprised yelp as you were engulfed by the mirror’s glass, leaving the three in disbelief.

“Just so you know.. I’m not going further than here.”

You landed in some unknown place with a “oomph”, the place was filled with mirrors. You heard a loud yelp in what you could have only recognized as Yashiro’s voice.

“Oh right, your supposed to be nice to girls.”

You turned with teary eyes from the bright light that filled the room to find the voice, and you felt yourself freeze when you realized it was Tsukasa.

The ghost, no. The vicious supernatural who tore Mitsuba from you.

You watched as Yashiro fell to ground in deep slumber, she looked awfully peaceful given the circumstances and situation they were in. When Tsukasa got up, your eyes wandered to where Mitsuba was at.

“Now, time for you to eat up Mitsu!” Tsukasa chirped, his voice was sickeningly sweet but it made shivers run down your spine, as he held what looked like to be a heart in his hands.

“No, NO! PLEASE, NO!” Mitsuba cried, trying to back away from the entity.

Mitsuba’s eyes widened in shock when he noticed you were there, and you didn’t miss that hopeful glint in his eyes when you made eye contact, hopeful that you would save him.

“(Y/N)!” He cried, trying to get Tsukasa’s bloodied hands off of him, tears streaming down his soft skin “PLEASE, HELP ME!”

You don’t know what came over you, but you found yourself rushing over in attempt to strangle Tsukasa, but he threw you off of him effortlessly.

“Get—“ you coughed “GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Tsukasa looked unfazed, his expression void of any emotion but it still made you shake with fear, not of what he would do to you, but of what he would do to Mitsuba.

“Now, eat up.” Tsukasa mumbled, his voice was low, and sounded inhumane. Distorted and horrifying. You wanted to get up, fight Tsukasa, and save Mitsuba. But this was no fairytale, so with a pounding headache—you watched as Tsukasa forcefully fed Mitsuba what you thought to be number 3’s heart, due to the entity that laid lifeless beside them with teary eyes.

You began to cry, feeling helpless. Tsukasa got up, walking towards you. You saw as Mitsuba looked distorted too, but he was still Mitsuba nonetheless.

“No-NO! PLEASE DON’T HURT HER! I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST PLEASE—“

A loud “WHAM” shook the room and two boys you could only recognize as Hanako and Kou came crashing down screaming like little girls. Kou was the first to get up, his eyes wandered to your shaking form, but you weren’t crying out of fear of Tsukasa—who he saw standing in-front of you—but when he followed your eyes to where they wandered, he realized why.

“..Mitsuba..?”

(A/N) : Oml, Act I is finished!! My hands are cramping from all the typing and I lost lots of sleep but that’s fine! But busy with French lessons but I still had time for this. This will be proofread and (hopefully) posted as well as the other chapters in Act I, tomorrow evening. Have a good day/evening/afternoon/night, and stay hydrated!! Eat smth too if you haven’t!

[mimastuff]

Just read your rottmnt reacting to their S/O’s death. Amazing writing btw, but I was wondering if you could do a continuation of it actually being a nightmare, and how would the turtles react to see them alive and well.

Thank you for the request!! I really enjoyed writing this one :) I was literally thinking of making a part 2 but yeah this was better than I imagined <3

Nightmare fuel ( pt2 to last post!)

——————————————————————————-

Don 💜

- as he woke up with a stir he found his body covered in a cold sweat

- He sat up with a sleepy yawn

- The events of his dream replayed in his head.

- He never gets , dreams that bad .

- Hell even nightmares.

- Wait

- Where were you ?

- He could recall falling asleep with you in his arms in your room

- Where are you ? Was his dream real ? Did he really lose-

- his thoughts stopped as you walked into your apartment bedroom

- His heart ached as you looked at him confused

- The confusion turned into mother bear mode as he ran out of bed to hug you

- He never really liked physical affection

- That was until you stepped into his life

- You hugged him back as you heard light sobs from him

The feeling of his grip tightening made your heart sink. You cradled his head in your arms and rubbed his arms. “I-I thought I lost you.. I thought you died…” your heart physically hurt for him as he cried once more into your neck. “Hey shhhh , your okay , I’m ok Donnie. I’m not dead. It was just a dream , I could never leave you~” your coos seemed to calm him down a little. He was still hugging you as he explained the dream. He explained how he killed you. How it was his fault. “Dee , baby, look at me” you saw him raise his tired head to look at you. Hands still gripped on your hips. “It was not your fault. It was not real. You tried to save me , and to be honest you already have. Multiple times. Ok? You have saved me without even knowing it. Just you being here for me is enough. Your so sweet to me and I can promise you I’m not mad. If anything I’m proud of you. I’m proud you have told me about the nightmare. And I’m proud of who you are as a person. Your everything I need Donnie , don’t you forget that.” Donnie’s sobbing started again. But for a different reason. He has never been called those words before. And he has suddenly been reminded of why he loves you. He steps back and gets into bed with his arms open for you to snuggle into. You both fall asleep happy and tired. Both grateful for each others warmth and existence.

Leo💙

- As he woke up choking for air tears seemed to be streaming down his face.

- his head was spinning

- he felst as though he was going to pass out.

- His groggy yawns broke the ever increasing silence in his room.

- He felt so sick and so numb at the same time

- He mentally prepared himself for another day of mourning his love

- You had died a couple weeks back and things have not been the same

- He hardly sees his brothers , crying at almost every reminder of your presence

- He felt tears build up in his eyes again as his chest tightened at the sound of light foot steps outside his bedroom door.

- He wiped his eyes as his head turned to the door opening

- “Raph, is that you?”

- The figure made its way to his sleepy body

- “Horrified that you would think that your love of you life looks like raph”

- His heart stopped.

“Y/N , is that you babe?” His voice broke and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. You instantly recognised the pain in his tone and say on the bed beside him. “Yes it’s me? Are you ok love , do I need to call Donnie in ? Omg ! Your crying. Heyy shh come here” As you pulled him into a hug you could hear his slight sobs. He pulled you onto his lap so he could hug you better. You turned to the blue lamp that lay on the table next to your bed.

“What happened?” His sniffles made your heart sink into your feet. “I had a horrible dream that you died. That dream, man it felt so real. But your here! And I’m ok now I promise :)” you laid your head on top of his as you stroked his shell. “Baby, I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere, ok ? I could never leave you.” His crying eventually stopped. They soon turned into snores as you got off his lap so he could spoon you. Your heart filled with worry , you fell asleep in his arms. Safe and sound.

Raph ❤️

- he slowly opened his eyes to see a small sleeping figure laying next to him

- His heart hurt and ached for you

- He really felt the dream was real

- He soon began to feel a sence of overwhelming gratefulness for you

- The way you always cared for his needs

- The way you patched him up when he insisted he could do it himself

- He loves you because you don’t care what he looks like

- You love him for who he is

- And he almost lost that.

- He almost lost the light that makes up his live

- He almost the the soul reason he has kept going

- You put him on the right track

- No one , not even him, could do that.

- He who is ever so strong could never lift someone like him in his arms and lift him to a world where he is loved and care for

- But you did.

- He felt tear build up as all the memories of you two together replayed like a record in his head

- One by one , each memory making him feel all kinds of emotions.

- He was prideful and he felt so proud of you

- The tears pouring from his eyes and slight sniffles stirred you awake

- Your eyes opened to a emotional raph

“Raphie , baby , are you okay?” You touched the side of his cheek and wiped away his stray tears. You felt an overwhelming hand come to grab you by the waist and pull you onto his lap. “Justa bad dream , look I just wanted to say how much I love you. Y/N you really mean the world to me. And in my dream I lost the one thing that makes me want to live. You. You’re my light Y/N. I have never felt this way about anyone before *sniffle sniffle* I love you and your so cool and amazing to me and …” he broke down in tears again at the thought of losing you and not being able to live himself anymore. “Shhh it’s okay raph. I love you too so so much. And if it ever feels like I don’t , I’m so sorry. You’re the reason I’m actually alive right now. You have helped me so much, in many ways . Some of which you don’t even know about. *you wipe his tears again and rub his cheek slightly*” Raphael swore his heart grew that night. You both hugged each other as you fell asleep with a smile on your faces. You couldn’t live without each other. And that was how it was meant to be.

——————————————————————————

I hope you like this one !! The turtles are always a fav to write for <33 thanks for the request , keep em coming !! 😚

[rotworld]

17: Rotten Fields

(previous)

jamie's advice on how to deal with a querrow comes in handy.

->sexually explicit. contains gore, noncon, non-human genitalia, spiders, terato, body horror, mentions of breeding, mentions of hard vore, religious content.

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.

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The shift came shortly after you fell asleep. It trickled into your dream, hissing and viscous, pouring fractals into the void. There were stars but they were inside out and strings of unwound clouds. The thing in the dark said nothing but there was pity in its great eye. An aurora curved tenderly around you.

In the morning, Jamie talks with the doctor. You’re given a bottle of anti-parasitic inhibitors to take by mouth twice a day. It’ll help, he says, but it’s not a permanent solution. You get changed out of the hospital gown and Jamie is quiet, looking out the window into the foggy parking lot. You expect a fight, an argument over what’s best for you, why you should stay. 

Instead, they ask, “Where did you want to go?” 

Anchor is east, says the heart. Nelton is south, says the divine. “West,” you say. “I need to go west.” It feels important. More than a delivery, more than homecoming, this is something you have to do. “What are you going to do?” 

Jamie frowns, brows furrowing in confusion. “Go with you, obviously.”

“I thought you’d want to get back to the University.”

“Not unless you’re going.” They shrug and look out the window again, frown deepening. “The last couple shifts had barely a day or two between them. That’s extremely unusual.”

“You sound worried.” 

They look up at the sound of your approaching footsteps and smile. They kiss your hand with the same desperate tenderness as yesterday. They’re right; the last few shifts came quickly. It feels like you’ve been on the road together for months now.  “I am worried. Because I know you don’t care. You’re going to get back out there either way, so I’d better go with you,” they say. 

Intimacy between you is easy, almost automatic. Jamie kisses you and it’s chaste, fleeting, just a quick peck on the lips, and it makes your heart flutter. The thought of them leaving, of an empty passenger seat, leaves a sick feeling in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, “I guess you’d better.” 

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: BLACK MILK BY MASSIVE ATTACK]

Routeless driving is dangerous. You have no way of knowing how far it’ll be before the next town, if there even is a town. Some roads go nowhere. Couriers don’t talk about it much but you know it’s something most of you do at one time or another, a pilgrimage made in the wake of disaster. Your mourning is done across miles. In the absence of home, the road will always welcome you. 

“I think I’m starting to get it,” Jamie says. “The road, I mean. It’s not like anywhere else.” They have a textbook open across their lap, an enormous hardback with creased, dog-eared pages and a worn spine. Drift parasites of every shape and size adorn the pages. “The last few days have been awful, but…we can always just leave. We’re doing it again, right now. It’s freeing.” 

“Sounds like you’ve got courier instincts after all,” you say. “Most people would call it running away and say I do it too much.”

“Of course they say that. They have a home to go back to.” 

The terrain becomes hilly, the road rising and falling over frozen waves of asphalt. You see open plains in the valley ahead, swaying green and gold. You see rows of corn and tomatoes, a patch of eggs growing in grape-like bunches. Spun hay bales dot the landscape. A weathervane squeals atop an old but well-maintained farmhouse, a truck parked off to the side. 

“You don’t think of the University as home?” you ask. 

Jamie smiles bitterly. “I don’t remember what ‘home’ is supposed to feel like for us. I have a house there. I have family, you could say. The other flukes have always looked out for me. I don’t feel like anything’s wrong, really. Just that…maybe I’m not done looking. That’s the home that was chosen for me, but I didn’t choose it.” They look away, guilty. “I’m sorry. That’s insensitive. You didn’t choose your home, either.” 

You shake your head. “No. But maybe I should. Maybe we all should.” 

Something stirs inside you; a flutter in your chest like a second heartbeat. The God of Nelton tries to lure you back into its comforting embrace, every pulse filling you with waves of warmth and adoration. “You chose me, angel. My love. My paradise. You chose.” 

You didn’t choose. You were desperate and grieving, too heartbroken to fight back. And as angry as you are, as violated as you feel, you do feel a shred of sympathy and understanding. You saw those boys in the church. You felt their fear. “Home wasn’t kind to you, either, was it?” you murmur. You think of Compass Hill more and more these days, how much of an anomaly it is in the Drift and how unfortunate that truly is. 

“I’d like to tell you not to feel bad for that thing, but then I’d be a hypocrite,” Jamie sighs, leaning against the window. “So much for a worm-free zone, huh?”

“Are you jealous?” You mean it as a joke, but you find Jamie leering at you through their lashes, a sharp and hungry expression you’ve come to associate with the influence of the fluke. 

“‘Jealousy’ would imply a desire to have parasitized you myself, which is inaccurate,” they say. “No, courier. I am not ‘jealous.’ Simply lamenting missed opportunities. I respect your refusal of fluke implantation. I admit, it makes you more difficult to predict and manage, but I—we would have you no other way.” 

“That’s sweet in a weird way.” 

Jamie laughs and starts to say something, but the thought is cut off mid-sentence. Your gaze follows theirs down the road further to a frightening, familiar sight. The road is wrong. It splinters off in a dozen directions, circling back on itself, curled in impossibly tight spiral turns. You notice, increasingly, the rotten smell of death but you don’t see anything. You’ve passed several unremarkable farmhouses and there’s another ahead, a red barn behind it. You don’t see the typical signs of abandonment or subsequent Verlindan acquisition; there is no equipment lying forgotten and rust-speckled in the field, no crumbling roofs or gaping, glassless windows. 

But it is quiet, you realize. No one seems to be home. There is no one in the field or the barn, no animals roaming the pastures. A full harvest waits on stalk and stem. Some of it has gone bad, unpleasant notes of musk and rot laced through the alluring fragrance of fresh vegetables. If something happened, it was recent. 

“Anchorware malfunction?” you wonder aloud. 

Jamie sits up straighter in their seat. “Pull over,” they say urgently. “We can’t use this road.” 

There’s nowhere else to go. You pull over beside the wooden fence running the length of the field. The air is strange here, sticky somehow. “Something’s not right,” they say. They’re out of the car and hopping the fence without another word. You rush to follow, shoving your way through the cornfield after them. 

“What do you mean not right?” 

“That’s twice now that we’ve seen this kind of malfunction in just a couple days. I don’t think I’d even heard of anchorware failing for decades before this.” Jamie hesitates, waiting for you to catch up. They look nervous. They grab your hand before they start moving again. “I didn’t want to say anything before, obviously. You were already having a bad day. But I’ve dealt with people from the anchorware labs a few times before. I don’t trust them.” 

You reach the edge of the field, stepping out of the corn and onto a dirt path, heading up to the porch of a two-story farmhouse. The exterior paint is old and flaking but there are ripe pumpkins on the front steps, neatly-trimmed shrubs beneath the windows. Jamie knocks on the front door and waits, glancing back at the road. 

“I tried to get to Anchor for years and never could,” you say. “It’s not just the tunnel. Every road into that city has the same malfunction. That seems…”

“Deliberate,” Jamie nods. “That’s what I thought, too. Odd for a company so concerned about the spotless reputation of their product.”

This shouldn’t be the way to Anchor, though. This is another place, the outskirts of a city if it even is one, falling victim to the same problem. You’ve heard anchorware has a built-in alert system. That’s how repair technicians respond so quickly, even without anyone reporting malfunction. Did it just happen, too recently for anyone to respond yet? Is it too remote for them to care?

Jamie knocks again, harder this time. You don’t hear any movement inside. “Nobody home,” they mutter. “I was hoping we could ask someone what happened. This is a worse malfunction than the tunnel. We might need to drive through the field, just to be safe.” You both notice a slightly flattened portion of the field behind the house, tire tracks splattering blackened stalks of corn. Jamie walks alongside the tracks with a pensive expression, pausing now and then, closing their eyes. Sensing the way out, you assume. You’d rather not be alone so you jog after them, pausing at the sight of another trail.

They’re not tire tracks, but something did pass through and drag over the crops. You see gouges, something narrow and slightly curved raking through the earth, and the broader shape of something being dragged. They start near the house and curve around it, the dirt recently disturbed and cracked. 

Crumbling, you realize too late. Unstable. A trapdoor entrance disguised with loosely packed dirt. You don’t get the chance to fall. Something surges up from below, something sharp slices your leg, and you are dragged down screaming.

Everything is pain and confusion, the world dark and spinning. Your skin scrapes raw against hard, snaking roots. Your head knocks against sudden turns and tightly-packed mounds of dirt as hard as concrete and you groan, disoriented and dizzy, unable to tell up from down. The pain in your leg gets worse with every dragging movement that pulls you further You weren’t just cut, you realize, you were skewered through the thigh. Something speared you through the flesh and now it drags you like bait on a fishing line deeper into the depths. The smell of blood is strong. You feel it, both freshly slick puddles and old, sticky scabs, lining the narrow passage. 

Eventually, you hit the bottom. The landing is hard and agonizing. You feel like there’s an enormous, serrated knife stuck in your leg, shredding skin and muscle every time you flinch. It moves just slightly and you scream, blood gushing on the underside of the wound where the pointed tip pierces the ground, keeping you anchored to the spot.

Something jabs you in the side. It feels like a bite, a quick puncture that makes you wince but is over thankfully quickly. Numbness spills across the side of your body and spreads quickly to your limbs, cool at first and then boiling, hot enough to make you start to sweat Your breathing evens out and your heartbeat slows even as fear overtakes you. Your head lolls back into the dirt. 

Something clicks and chitters above you. You hear something moving; the crunch of soil, the leathery squeal of something thicker than skin creasing. Hot breath fans across your face. There is something right in front of you. Close enough to kill you, if it really wanted to.

“Yessssss,” you hear, an animalistic hiss. “I have you. I have you, destroyer. You are mine.”

Hands caress you—human hands? Not quite, you think, close but too long and spindly, the skin smooth like glass and hard like bark, the tips pointed like needles. And too many. One is on your face and one is on your neck and one is tugging at your shirt, and there are more still groping and fondling. The more you try to struggle, the more the numbness spreads.

One of your hands flails weakly, brushing against a body that is nearly human. Bony shoulders and broad pectorals; a long abdomen with strange, thick protrusions down the sides, bony but flexible growths that shiver when your fingertips graze against them. One flexes and the pain in your leg intensifies. A limb, you realize. A leg. The footsteps you hear are like the driving of a stake into the ground, weighted, heavy, but the point of contact is small. You wish you could see anything in this subterranean darkness.

A burrow, you realize. That’s what this is. It laid a trap, struck when you got close enough. You never saw it coming. Jamie told you about these, you think. They’re called querrows.

That spreading numbness and the feverish heat building beneath your skin must be neurotoxin.

“Why return? Arrogance. You are weak now. You are helpless. You take from me. You take and you take.”

The sharp appendage driven through your leg suddenly wrenches loose with the wet, ripping sound of your flesh tearing open wider. You have just enough strength to sob quietly. The wound is gaping, blood puddling underneath your body. You’re starting to understand that you aren’t really numb. You still feel everything from the uncomfortable grit of the ground under you to the blood sticking to your hands. Too old to be yours, too far from your leg. The rusted stench of slaughter fills your nose. You are far from the first to end up down here.

“Now,” the querrow whispers, voice lilting with glee. “Now you will give.”

You try to scream. You try to beg. You try to crawl in any direction. All you manage is a slurred murmur and a slight twitch. It lifts you easily. Turns you over, leaves you face-down in the dirt without regard for your comfort. It’s a monumental struggle to turn your head far enough to avoid suffocating against the ground. Suddenly, it’s gone. Not far, but its hands vanish and you hear it pawing at the soil behind you. Digging? Burrowing deeper?

Help me, you beg the God of Nelton. You can’t do this alone. Can it move you? Can it burn through the poison in your veins? You feel a surge of helpless frustration. It can’t. It has tried. It has made your eyes a beacon of holiness but this thing cannot see well enough to be swayed. It is sad and afraid and angry at itself, thinking of home, of Malachi, of all the faithful. It has never been so far away, it admits. It didn’t know, didn’t realize the dangers of the world. You feel it twist itself up like an angry snake, but there’s no time for guilt or regret or self-flagellation. You need help. 

“I will bring you salvation, angel. I will not let you die.” You can feel it unfolding across space, a cry echoing into the dark. It’s looking for Jamie’s fluke. You just have to hold on until it can find them.

The scraping sounds stop and something looms over you again. “P…please,” you manage. You can’t get all the sounds out properly, can barely understand yourself. “Don’t…don’t…”

Something stabs the dirt so close to your face that you feel the air shift and smell the stink of old blood right in front of your nose. “Please! Don’t!” it mocks you shrilly. It rakes its claws over your head and takes a fistful of your hair, dragging you head off the ground and making your scalp burn. “I am to listen to these sad sounds, am I? Why would I owe you my ear, destroyer? Why, when you would not lend yours to my kin!”

You have no idea what it’s talking about. Someone else must have been here recently—someone it feels has wronged it. “Not me,” you mumble. “Don’t…don’t know.” 

You’re making it angry. The hand in your hair starts to pull and you are dragged across the ground, bruising and bloodying your knees, tossed against a mound of earth that digs painfully into your stomach. Is this what it was doing? Not digging, but shaping something from the soil? You can’t figure out why until it shoves you forward and you’re draped uncomfortably atop the mound, your head bent uncomfortably against the ground and your lower body elevated. Claws rake your back and your clothes unravel easily. It doesn’t undress you so much as it rips what’s in its way. 

Sharp hands grasp your hips, yanking your legs apart. Your heart skips a beat. Jamie said they’re vulnerable, but where? On the legs, you think. Something about the exoskeleton being flexible, moving around when—

when they’re about to mate. 

The querrow sinks its claws into your shoulder and you choke on a whimper, feeling yourself splitting apart on the sharpened ends of its fingers. “Did you think I would forget your scent?” it hisses. “How could I? You have been gone so briefly your smell still lingers.” It moves all around you, skittering limbs piercing the rocky walls of the burrow. Anchoring itself, hovering just above you. You inhale shakily at the sensation of flesh against your back, all segmentation and strange, bumpy ridges. This part of its body is far wider than its chest, easily eclipsing your entire form. It rubs clumsily against you. You feel the same rigid sharpness that pierced your leg return with gentler attention, dagger-point limbs arranging your lower half with surprising dexterity, hiking your hips slightly higher. 

Smaller limbs, the length of your forearm and curved like fangs, clamp down on your waist. You hear a cracking sound followed by that same leathery creaking. The querrow slides itself up and down your back until you feel a damp spot along your spine. You mistake it for blood at first, something that rubbed against your injury, but its thicker than that. Slime-like, dribbling from an opening in the querrow’s body. Another back and forth motion, settling more of its weight on top of you, and you feel something emerging from that opening. A warm, wet pressure. A tapered head and a throbbing length of flesh covered in fleshy bumps and knobs.

“Do you plant the eggs of your kin, or do you lay them?” the querrow rasps. Its cock keeps emerging long after you think it should be done. It’s long, impossibly long, its heavy girth slapping heavily along your back as it shifts again, repositioning. It pulls back and then lunges forward, its enormous length stabbing between your thighs. Your heart skips a beat. That thing can’t go inside you. It won’t fit. You won’t survive. “Let me tell you a secret, destroyer. It does not matter.”

It rocks forward and even outside of you, without penetrating, the movement is brutal. Its body shoves you forward, grinding your stomach painfully against the mound you’re bent over. Its length is slick with the same disgusting slime that trickled out of it and all over your back, and you notice a tingling sensation spreading wherever it touches. 

The legs. You have to hit its legs. You can feel them, their soft undersides where exoskeletal plates folded away, but you can barely lift your head. The querrow rocks back again and that thin, tapered head slips past your entrance. It growls. The grasping limbs on your waist lift you just slightly. The next thrust is a sharp jab that knocks the breath out of your lungs. It doesn’t miss this time. The tip of its inhuman cock punches inside you and it’s almost more than you can take. It hesitates. You feel it stiffen, hear it moan.

“You will…make me a father,” it grunts, its breathing labored. You’re begging for mercy, trying to scream with a constricted throat, as it lunges forward. More of its monstrous cock forces inside. You wouldn’t be conscious if its strange, sticky fluid wasn’t numbing your insides, soothing every scalding movement. It fucks you like it’s trying to kill you, every thrust a vicious stab. You’re full, beyond full, bulging around its hot, twitching flesh, and it’s not even halfway inside. “Your flesh will bear my eggs and feed my young. Your blood, their milk. Your bones, their nursery.”

Its body sways and your hands clench weakly into fists as you’re stretched even further, its cock churning your insides. To your horror, the ridges ringing its length rub against your inner walls in a way that sparks pleasure at the base of your spine. It shouldn’t feel good, none of it should. But every predatory lunge and softer, teasing thrust, every small movement it makes is accompanied by whispers of pleasant friction. It’s deep enough to touch things that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head, deep enough to pound against them mercilessly. You don’t think it knows, don’t think it even cares, but it has you shivering and whimpering under it.

The legs, you think dimly. You need—need to do something. Need to—to do something, but you can hardly think. The querrow settles into a predictable rhythm; back and forth, in and out, and then it pauses, swaying back and forth in a gently rocking motion that you are ashamed you push back to meet with your hips. It makes you relax and let it in even deeper, that line of bumps along its cock dragging by that spot one at a time. It makes your mind go blank. 

“You smell willing,” it rumbles. It breaks rhythm to reward you, a slow, circular grind against your hips making you whine and arch your back. “You break easily, destroyer. Look at you. So eager for my eggs and my seed. Why did you ever leave when you were made to be a querrow breeder?”

There is a voice in your head that is screaming, calling you angel, angel, my angel. It says you have to fight but the querrow pounds into you again, pumping another thick, viscous load of numbing liquid into your abused entrance. It says you have to run but the querrow is swaying its body and you are swaying with it, your mind melting from the sweet, filthy praise and the strangely soothing glide of its appendages along your sides and back. It says Jamie is up there waiting for you—

Jamie. The name is like ice water down your back, sudden clarity. Jamie said its legs are its weak spot. You can move but not well, not with precision. You don’t trust your legs. You might need to crawl out of here. You’ll only have one shot, you think, because the second it realizes you’re not paralyzed it’ll bite—sting—whatever it did before. You have to put everything you have into this strike and claw your way to the surface. But you don’t know which way is up, or which way is out, or how—

The querrow slams into you, the pleasure just edged out by pain. You ask the God of Nelton to guide you. The next time the querrow halts its merciless pace to grind softly into you, you lean slightly, feel where the nearest leg is—thick with a soft, fleshy underside right where it connects to the body—and you kick as hard as you can. 

The sound the querrow makes leaves you momentarily deafened, your ears ringing for a long time after. It’s nails on a chalkboard amplified, a screech like a car crash echoing all around you. You feel it collapse because the whole burrow shakes from the impact, legs flailing, a claw raking your side as you make yourself twist and turn and get up to run.

Your legs give out after barely a few steps but you crawl, bruised hands and bloodied knees into the dark. The God of Nelton is your eyes, a steady voice in your head tells you where to go, when to turn, urging you onward even when your wounded, weary body wants to give up. You feel things—soft things, dead things, wet and rotting—but you have no time to think or worry or linger. You make yourself crawl until the tunnel starts sloping gently upward, and then sharply, yanking on snaking tree roots and stones lodged in the earth. A speck of light shines like a single star overhead.

Below you, not far behind, there is an enraged, earth-shattering screech. The burrow quakes with terrifyingly swift movement, a dozen long, graceful legs sprinting right for you. You know you can’t outrun it and you can’t outclimb it and you’re dead if it catches you, throwing yourself forward, higher, pushing through the acidic burn in your legs, the crackling heat in your lungs, your palms scraped raw and bloody, your nails breaking on the crumbling wall of dirt in front of you. 

A hand catches yours just as you start to slip. Jamie hauls you out of the burrow so fast your heart feels like it’s in your throat. They sling your arm over your shoulder and then they’re running the best they can with you half-dragging beside them, shoving through the barn doors and out into the pasture. Your car is running in the middle of the corn, driver’s door hanging open. Jamie shoves you into the passenger seat and lets you handle the door, sprinting around to the driver’s side. Rotten corn squelches under your squealing tires. 

You hurt everywhere. You twist around in the seat trying to find a position that doesn’t send searing agony up your spine. Jamie looks sympathetic but doesn’t risk taking their hands off the wheel to soothe you, too focused on navigating out of the field and the anchorware malfunction. 

You look back just once, a quick glance in the rearview mirror. There is something in the field but it doesn't follow beyond the crops. An enormous spider-like limb pricks the ground, hesitates, and slowly retreats back into the corn. The thing must be the size of your car.

“You’re on thin fucking ice,” Jamie says sharply, making you flinch. “But yes. I am grateful.” 

There’s a warm sensation in your chest, a proud little squirm from the God of Nelton.

(next)

[rachelsshowerthoughts]

Aware AU thought but, https://www.tumblr.com/tumblingxelian/754631895572267008/justanotherpersonsuniverse-i-didnt-watch?source=share

This very much gives the idea that Lila's mother is the intensely absent, IE neglectful parent who compensates by saying sweet things but doesn't back it up with any action.

Which likely also made it harder for Lila to really communicate her issues because her mom says nice things, she makes sure she has food, & sometimes spends time around her.

Who would believe her mom is anything but a bit busier than Lila would like? Don't be spoiled Lila, your mother works so hard for you!

With her likely internalizing her mothers sweet nothings as lies & lying herself to trick others to get by a little easier, to get a little attention she so craves, to cover for problems or mistakes.

I think the song Our Word would sum her up very well, either just the first portion as here here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Y3DVFF0spY Or the full song here, which could also maybe represent a sort of, "This is what I could have become" angle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9RHJTpLOVk

so, first off, the first thing I thought when I heard the song in its entirety was "Musical Lila!Akuma", so that’s going to live rent free in my head all day.

yeah, I think the implication is definitely supposed to be "absent mom" (though I think this is before the "multi-mom" nonsense) and I always took it as, the one thing Lila DOES tell the truth about is her mom's job. Ambassador is up in the air, but definitely works for the Italian embassy, which would actually go a long way to explaining a lot about Lila.

If Lila's mom is an Italian ambassador, Lila probably is well travelled, and probably has met SOME important people, at least by proxy. The best lies have a kernel of truth in there somewhere, after all. It’s plausible she could have met most of these people. She's also probably never in the same place longer than a year or so. She moves to a lot of new places, many of which may or may not have a language in common with her. She probably never shows up at the start of a school year, but partway through, when everyone's already formed their friend groups. She’s always "the new girl", either seen as a weird foreigner, or a shiny new toy with fun stories of other places. But how many people stick around when the stories dry up? Better make more stories, better stories, so you aren’t alone - and then it doesn’t even matter, because you'll be gone in six months, and eventually all your "friends" have steady lives to get back to, so they stop calling, stop texting, and you're right back where you started.

Plus, how much time do you think she's actually spent in Italy, in her own house, since she was little? Does she see the rest of her family?

Also, I find it interesting we don’t see her dad. Mostly cause the other kids have either really well established home lives, or we ignore them, with the implication they are "normal". If there are single parents, we eventually do get explanations - Anarka either never told Jagged or he decided he wouldn’t be a good dad, Mylene's mom sucked, Felix's dad died (and also sucked), we won't even get into Gabriel and Emilie. I think the only other "Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show" parent we get no info on is Kagami's dad. So, where's Mr. Rossi?

Sick? Died? Missing? Divorced? Was he a nice guy? Equally neglectful? Did he know about Lila's lies? Did he encourage it? Ignore it? Is Mrs. Rossi acting like this cause of something to do with her husband? Is she mourning him? Did he cheat on her? Was she even ever married? Is Lila technically a bastard baby? Or is her mom truly a single mom - wanted a kid, went through IVF?

(I mean, I have similar questions about Kagami's dad, but if we keep the Sentimonster stuff, along with everything else, then it does actually make sense that Tomoe never had a romantic partner of any kind, she just wanted a kid/heir, no partner was involved at any point)

@tumblingxelian

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 27

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 4,779

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: GOODNIGHT AND GOOD MOURNING

Bucky counts two rings of the doorbell and six knocks. Second ring in case the first wasn't heard, six heavy knocks in case the doorbell might be broken, and yet despite this extra work, he never actually had any real expectations for the door to open on its own. Unfortunately, he gave up hope on that a few weeks ago.

Setting some bags down by his feet and cursing when they immediately tip over, he uses his new free hand to fish through his pocket, succeeding in not only finding his keys, but the correct one to unlock this blasted barrier before him.

Per usual, he's greeted with an eerily dark hallway that seems fitting for the start of a horror movie. Shuffling through the door with another curse as the same pesky bags get caught on the handle, he kicks it shut behind himself then calls out into the darkness as if it would reply, "Hey...It's me!"

Unfazed by the greeting of silence, he leaves his boots and coat there before making a b-line for the kitchen, pleased to leave all his grocery bags there to officially free himself of their incontinent weight. He goes to the fridge first, not to put anything away, but rather to grimace at the barren sight inside. Some condiments, a little bit of milk, veggies that look past their expiration date, and a half rack of beer…Good thing he went shopping.

Walking around the bar and into the living room, Bucky almost makes the mistake of going further which would've taken him right past the couch and, more importantly, the motionless lump lying there. When he does spot it in the corner of his eyes, he sighs - for some reason he still has a reason to sigh despite this having become a despairing routine as of lately.

Slowly, he steps over the few empty beer bottles on the floor and squats next to the couch where his frown only grows deeper as he pokes the lump, "It's past noon...You should get up and eat something - You need to get up and eat something."

He only gets a groan in response, but at least that's better than continued silence.

"I bought groceries. I can make something if you want?" Nothing, "...Or I can even order some take-out. Anything particular in mind?"

"...I don't want anything..."

Bucky inhales, although he tries not to make it sound so sharp. Standing upright and grabbing the empty bottles, he heads back into the kitchen, “...You’ll make yourself sick living off of beer alone, you know?”

"For your information, I had ramen yesterday."

"I'm proud of you," He's truly sincere, not that you'd believe that, "That means today, we can have something other than beer or ramen. Now, what do you feel like? I was thinking we could just do a simple, early dinner. I got some frozen pizza. Maybe we can have that and do a movie night or somethin' - just enjoy an easy going, lazy day. What do you say? I wouldn't mind another marathon of Lord of the Rings. You still keep the extended cuts under the TV stand, yeah?”

He’s rambling and normally, you find it enduring, however today - and for the last few weeks - his voice has been a distant echo in your head; nothing but a dull mumble against the terrible thoughts that overtake your care and concern. It makes you feel shitty in every way possible. Bucky visits every day without fail, armed with unlimited patience and kindness that he somehow manages to smother you in without actually smothering you (it’s been painfully obvious that he’s desperately trying to give you some space while still being present).

"Oh yeah, and I also got your favorite. They had it next to check-out. 'thought you'd like some," Even when a candy bar is waved in front of your face, your eyes barely shift to it before disappearing from sight when you curl further into your blanket sanctuary.

"...No thank you.”

Although his smile does wobble a bit into a frown, Bucky forces himself not to break; not here, not in front of you. He’d be an absolute hypocrite to complain, after all, it was him who spent several years moping which (unintentionally) dragged you into quite a lot of trouble. You pulled him from that hole, giving him the support he needed to move on from his past as hard as that had been. Now it’s his turn to return the favor.

Still - and he’s afraid he might be thinking selfishly with this, but there are days where he just wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and force you to go outside for once because the worry is eating away at him right now. It’s been weeks since the Snap - Well, five years for everyone else, but only a few measly weeks since the two of you had been thrown into this whirlwind of events that have left you both shaken.

It’s strange to think you can close your eyes and find out five years have passed. It’s even stranger to be thrown into a war for the universe immediately after, receiving no chance to process everything going on until you’re left with nothing. Natasha, Tony, Steve…The people who you cared for are gone and you never got to say goodbye - not in the way you wanted.

You were so damn happy, too. At long last, you had fixed your life, surrounded by people who were close to Hollie or at least understood that you were once her. No more pretending nor biting your tongue; you were free to just be you, both as Hollie and (Y/n). To think, you were actually excited for your future for the first time in, well, years - decades, even…then it all came tumbling down within mere minutes…Now you’re left with the shattered remains yet again and can’t help but ask yourself: how many more times? When will you have suffered enough?

"...(Y/n)...” Bucky breathes your name and you notice the crack behind his voice as he kneels down beside you, gently moving a strand of hair away from your face, “I’m not asking for you to be okay or to move on. I’m just asking that you take care of yourself a little better. You’re not eating, you haven’t left the apartment in days - I don’t even think you’re really sleeping either. I -...I’m getting really worried about you, darling…”

He has a point. You know he has a point because this isn’t the first time you’ve been here. If anything, you should be an expert on grief and recovery, having learned from experience that wallowing doesn’t bring anyone back…so why do you still feel like utter shit then? You should be a productive member of society, counting your blessings and moving on because you’re lucky enough to even be here. So many people have it worse than you. Bucky, for example. He lost Steve, too. He tries to brush it off, but you see the pain in his eyes. Steve didn’t die or anything. He just…left. He left both of you willingly despite the suffering you’ve already been cursed with…He abandoned you both with it and while you want to be happy for him and happy that he got to be with Peggy in the end as they both deserved…you can’t help feeling pissed…betrayed even…

Bucky has a right to be mad, too. He should have his own time to grieve for himself instead of being stuck in this dark apartment babying you. Even if he has already moved on (not that you’d believe it), that would be all the more reason for him to go live his life. Why does he keep fussing over you when he should be taking care of himself?

“I’m getting really worried about you, darling…”

…You wish you could make Bucky happy. You want him to be happy, having moved on from all those awful things HYDRA had done to the quiet, simple life he desires, yet selfishly at the same time, you don’t actually want to let him go. You’re stuck in this awful limbo where you want to throw in the towel and give up on everything you’ve worked so hard on throughout the years, after all, it sure didn’t take long to crumble around you, but at the same time, you’re so tired of feeling alone…You don’t want to go back to that life even if it means desperately grasping at strings and dragging poor Bucky down with you…

At long last you peek out from behind your blanket, lazily gazing up at the man in question. There was once a time when you would shamelessly swoon at the thought of having his affection and admittedly, you’re heart still flutters at hearing his concern for you, however after the Snap, you can’t help feeling numb inside as if your heart is covered in frozen ice that even Bucky can’t chip away…at least, that's what you had begun to believe until finally getting a good look at him.

Your heart speeds up so suddenly it makes a wave of nausea run over your entire body, making you feel a bit more awake than you had been before. For once you find energy for something and that's to wiggle your arm out from under the blankets, reaching until your fingers manage to touch the top of his head.

"...You cut your hair," You observe so stupidly, avoiding his eyes as you focus only on his new haircut which is quite the change. Yesterday he had his hair pulled back into a bun while complaining of the heat, however today, his long locks are gone, leaving a rather short yet soft fluff behind.

"Yeah...'got it done this morning," He slightly bows his head down towards you more, burning through all his willpower not to fully lean into your touch. He’s as cautious with his movements as he is in watching your expression and asking the question, “Do you like it…?”

You finally allow yourself to look at his face, your fingers just barely running along his cheek on their way to falling limb against the couch again. For a brief second anyone could miss, your lip quivers, but you do good to press it back the same way you blink away any tears threatening to make an appearance. Maybe Bucky notices, maybe he doesn’t.

"...It’s a good look on you,” You inhale, eyes drifting over his facial features to catch every detail because at this point you’ve abandoned all caution. You’ll accept in this moment that you’re being selfish and you’ll also decide not to care, “...You clean up nicely, Barnes. Who would’ve guessed?”

Bucky beams - quite literally, he beams with a boyish grin and glitter to his eyes after hearing you say something more akin to your usual self. Oh, how he’s missed your teasing. Sure, your voice is cracked and barely more than a whisper, but it’s progress he won’t object to. He also doesn’t object to you slowly sitting up while running a hand through your own messy air and sighing at your headache.

“So, um…A movie marathon, you said?”

“Unless you have anything else in mind?”

You press your lips, never letting the hand fall from your head. There’s a voice inside who tries to argue, reminding you that it’ll only end in more heartbreak if you try yet again to pick up the pieces of Hollie’s life, but God, it’s so damn difficult with Bucky’s adorable, hopeful smile. He’s attached to you even without understanding the truth. He cares for (Y/n), he worries about you…That’s supposed to be a good thing, right? You wanted that - wanted to know that he could love you as you, not as just Hollie, however there’s a side of you that doesn’t feel quite right about it for some reason…some reason you’ll ignore.

“...No. A movie night sounds fun…” 

Baby steps - that’s what it took for you to start functioning again after Bucky’s supposed death seventy eight years ago; lots and lots of baby steps. Misery doesn’t disappear overnight which is a cruel truth that hasn’t changed between then and the modern era, although misery does fade overtime if you can successfully focus on the things you like and the things you still have.

You might not have your family to pull you out of this funk like last time, but at least you have Bucky (a bittersweet switch, if anything). He’s kept you distracted with different movies he wants to watch and recipes he’d like to bake. He’s always around, in fact you’ve already told him he can keep that spare key to your apartment because honestly, neither of you can remember that last time he’s actually stayed at his own.

Once you stopped stubbornly pushing him away, Bucky was allowed to bear witness to some of the demons that have been haunting your mind since the Snap. It’s safe to say you’ve done your fair share of crying in front of him, letting your frustrations slip as you curse Thanos and the universe and anyone who can possibly be linked to causing your current pain. You’ve expressed your anger with Steve, your sorrow over Natasha, and mourning for Tony.

You’re thankful that, no matter what sobs or curses have escaped you, Bucky has never filled the gap with unrealistic promises that everything will ‘be okay’. You’ve grown tired of hearing that from others, so it’s been refreshing to have someone instead hold you during your moments of vulnerability while promising that they’ll always be there for you when life gets rough.

Thanks largely to Bucky’s encouragement and support, you’ve gotten better. Not ‘better’ as in fully fixed, but ‘better’ as in you can find the strength to go on errands into town and ensure you’re maintaining a healthy diet again.

Life seems to have returned to a small sense of normal again, strongly reminding you of your stay in Romania which you had treasured so much. Coffee together in the mornings, afternoons discussing each other’s day, movie nights, and take-out dinner…It’s no wonder that your parents have inquired about your ‘boyfriend’. Your relationship sure seems to be leaning that way from the outside looking in (more than it ever has before) and, despite how desperately you try to ignore it, sometimes you find yourself drifting too far into the domestic bliss the same way you had in Romania, dangerously letting your guard down until you’re ripped back into reality by an unwanted and awful reminder…First it had been Steve appearing in your apartment those seven years ago, now this…

“You know…” Bucky’s voice easily gains your attention, earning a pleasant hum as you curl your head closer to his chest in acknowledgment.

It’s hot out today meaning the air conditioning’s been blasting with a box fan rumbling mere feet away, yet you’ve still filed no complaint towards cuddling close to his side on the couch while binging an entire season of The Office.

Despite your patience waiting for a response, it doesn’t come too promptly. Instead he awkwardly adjusts his arm around you and swallows before speaking, “...We should go out to dinner tomorrow night.”

You’re both blind and deaf to his shyness, merely perking an eyebrow without taking your eyes off the screen, “Why tomorrow? Are you on a diet that says you can’t eat dinner on Tuesday nights?”

Usually he’d chuckle at such a comment, and he nearly does, a short sound making it past his lips which he quickly bites back, “N-No, I mean, we’ll still eat dinner tonight obviously, I was just trying - I’d like to go somewhere nice together. Sit down dining, type deal.”

Finally understanding the hint, you become a bit nervous yourself, “How ‘nice’ are we exactly talking? Red Robins kinda nice or um…make a reservation nice?”

“Nicer than Red Robins…” He rubs the back of his neck with a shrug, although you don’t get a chance to voice your concerns because he skillfully spots them first, “Don’t worry about money or anything like that. I’ve been saving. I was thinking I’d treat ya’ - take you out to dinner someplace special for the evening…I promised after all.”

Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise when you push away from him so quickly that you almost fall off the couch. It would be one thing for you to just turn and look at him, however your movements are desperate as if his touch had suddenly burned you. The way you’re actually looking at him doesn’t help, either. You appear as if you’ve seen a ghost, face pale and eyes wild as you stare.

“W-When?”

“Huh -?”

“When did you promise that?” You whisper rather cautiously, only further confusing the poor man.

“In Wakanda? A week or so before you came there I promised that when we see each other again, I’d take you out to dinner - as a thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Bucky frowns, visibly concerned about your behavior, enough so that he hesitates to reach out to you, “Are you alright -?”

“- I…I don’t know if that’s a good idea…‘sounds kinda like a date, don’t you think?” You try to calm your heartbeat through deep yet casual breaths, even attempting a poor laugh at the end of your sentence, however it’s clear such struggling is useless; that damage has already been done.

Bucky bows his head in shame while slowly retracing his hand, “...Would a date be so bad?”

You open your mouth only to close it, fearing the nausea that bubbles within your stomach. This isn’t how you expected your reaction to be. You’ve been dreaming of this moment, desperately hoping for the day Bucky asks you out so that you can finally rekindle that relationship you once had and miss dearly. It would have to be by his own terms, you decided long ago, not wanting to push him by making the move yourself, however secretly, there has been another reason for waiting - a certain anxiety that has interested in relevance over these last nine years.

"The second I get back, I'm taking you out to dinner - a nice place, too, I've been saving.”

“Let me do this for you, Hollie. Eight o'clock sharp. Houghton's. I'd say wear something nice, but you look dazzling in anything."

It isn’t easy having lived two lives. It isn’t easy having the memories of a different person - although still you - who remains in pieces only inside your mind and personality. You’re Hollie. You’ve maintained certain traits of hers and you continue to love all that she had…but you’re also (Y/n). You don’t look the same and you endured a new childhood, in a new world, with a new family…While in your own eyes, you’d argue that this change is minimum, equivalent to the way a child changes into a teen and a teen into an adult, there’s has always been a fear hidden within your heart that others might not see the same.

What if someone who knew you then doesn’t like who you are now?

You were able to set that question aside for the others. Steve knew Hollie as a friend. You were close, although your interactions were limited and rarely were you alone. Frankly, you became closer during your time as (Y/n) when each other's support was needed more than ever. Tony knew Hollie as an aunt when he was very young. His image of you was built upon four years of vague memories with your care and support being at the forefront; that’s all he expected from (Y/n)...Neither of them truly compared to Bucky, a man who loved Hollie in more ways than one and got to know her best despite your short time together.

What if he doesn’t like who you are now?

Bucky loved Hollie - he still loves her. You saw her picture in his wallet once when he brought groceries over. You’re okay with that part alone, however you worried that if you immediately told him from the very beginning that you’re the same person as that girl in the photo - from that first day you found him in DC - would he have only loved you because of Hollie? Because the concept of being with you was his only chance of being with her again?

It’s ridiculous and foolish. You act jealous of yourself, although you honestly believed it to be in the best interest for both of you. You don’t want to exist solely as a living memory, not an individual, and you don’t think it would’ve been healthy for Bucky, either. He needed to love you for who you are now. He needed to move on in some way.

He has moved on. Hollie’s still kept close to his heart, yet he’s sitting here now asking for you. He’s spent months - no, years probably - loving you and looking to you as a means to finally be happy. This is exactly what you wanted…so why do you still feel so shitty inside?

"(Y/n)!”

You turn your head. You can tell by his eyes that Bucky didn’t mean to raise his voice, but at least it gained your attention at last. Cautiously, he reaches for you again, this time committing to the action. It’s only when the cold metal of his thumb runs along your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

“...It doesn’t have to be a date. We don’t even have to go. Don’t -...Don’t worry about it, alright? It’s not that big of a deal?” Oh, but it is. Bucky’s such a terrible liar. If it truly wasn’t a big deal, then why did his voice crack with a dejected undertone?

“I-I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I’m just…being emotional for no reason at all,” You huff mostly to yourself, miserably attempting to rub the tears away with the edges of your sleeves. Bucky has much better luck at it, carefully using his thumbs and palms to catch your tears. All the while, he searches your eyes for any sign of harm which almost makes you forget your sadness…almost…

Meeting his gaze, you move a hand of your own to his cheek, smiling softly, “I’d love to go on a date with you, James.”

“But -”

“- I’m afraid.”

His mouth snaps shut after your whisper and it takes him a second to meet it, equally as silent, “...Why?”

You don’t answer too promptly yourself. A keen eye would notice your hesitation as you heavily debate your next action, although you hide it well behind the admiration you seem almost drunk on while running your hand back into Bucky’s much shorter hair. For years you’ve bit your tongue and danced around your inner thoughts which has been a tiring endeavor for sure, enough so that in a moment like this, you’ve lost the willpower to keep the act up, choosing to instead speak directly from your heart regardless of the risk.

“...You’ve always been so good to me, James. ‘a real knight in shining armor…You know, I was so alone before I met you, not thinkin’ I’d ever find someone who could keep up with my nonsense. Others figured me to be crazy, that or they were intimidated by me being too ‘unique’, as my family put it. Whether I tried to change or not, it didn’t matter because if I wasn’t different to the world, I was different to myself. There was no winning and my displacement only seemed to grow with age. ‘started to believe the universe cursed me for some reason - that I must’ve done something terrible in my past or perhaps I was simply too happy at some point, leaving an overdrawn balance now…I didn’t want to do it anymore, but then you came around again. You gave me hope - meaning, even.

“I feel happy with you - very happy, as if I can breathe easy and just be myself without ever worrying about judgment again because as long as you like me, that’s all I need to know that I’m not crazy,” Bucky opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get a chance when you gently place a finger to his lips, “You mean sooo much to me, James, in fact I don’t think you’ll ever be able to truly understand the full extent of my love for you…and that’s what scares me. There’s…Well, there’s something I need to tell you, but I’m afraid that whenever I do, you’ll push me away. Whether it’s because you don’t believe me or you get mad at me -”

“- I could never get mad at you, darling -”

“- You say that now and I'm sure you believe it, but once you hear what I have to say, you might change your mind -”

“- I don’t think that’s possible -”

“- James -”

“- You said that I might not understand the extent of your love, but I don’t think you understand mine,” He interrupts more sternly, slowly grasping your wrist and lowering your hand over his heart. He holds it there and doesn’t let go, a hint of shyness in his eyes, “You mean a lot to me - you have meant a lot to me for a while now. Around you, I feel relaxed a-as if all those things HYDRA had done never happened. I start to think that I might actually deserve a happy life by your side and even if I don’t, then fuck it, I don’t find myself caring. I want to be with you anyways because every second that I’m not, I’m restless like a piece of me is gone…Being here with you, I…It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time…There’s nothing you could say to make it suddenly go away.”

You chuckle apprehensively with a shake of your head, letting your gaze finally fall from his, “...I bet I could…”

“I highly doubt it,” He rolls his eyes, leaning close enough for his own quiet laughter to be felt. You steal a glance at his lips, nearly giving into your own temptation to touch them, although you hesitate there instead.

“You don’t know -”

“- I don’t need to then -”

“- This is serious, James!” You plead weakly, trying to pull your hand from his and move off his lap where you just now notice he’s brought you, yet it should be of no surprise that he’s stronger than you and won’t let this matter drop so easily without resolve.

Your actions cause his concern to return and he becomes serious once again, his stormy eyes watching you so very carefully with his bottom lip puffed out in a pout, “...What’s really wrong, (Y/n)? I don't get it. You just said that you love me too and that must be true - I believe that it's true because, I mean, why else would you have stuck by my side after all the shit I’ve dragged you into? I-If I have to do more to prove my love for you, I will, if that’s what has you so worried - Or if you’re not ready for a relationship yet, that’s fine, too. Just…tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it. No more beatin’ around the bush…Please, darling…”

Suddenly, your eyes feel so stern watching him despite the tears that fill them as you slightly bow your head in what you would deem as shame, although he might mistake it for anger given how persistent and strange you’re behaving. He’s all ears, though. Maybe slightly taken aback by your vulnerable speech, but this isn’t the first time you’ve expressed your inner thoughts with him since the Snap and he’s here to listen without judgment as he’s always been. He just hopes he didn’t make you uncomfortable by overstepping.  

Usually you're the one to make him flustered. He thought all of your prior flirting meant he was safe to ask you out, however he’s now starting to second guess all of that. He hasn’t dated since Hollie, after all. He’s been out of the game for so long, it’s completely possible that he read the situation wrong. Then again, you just admitted to loving him, so what’s stopping you? You had assured long ago that you have no actual fiancé, he's certain you aren't dating anyone else at the moment, and you've both gone in public countless times together, so surely you aren't ashamed to be seen with him even despite his muddy past. Is it too soon after the Snap? Are you just not ready for commitment? Why are you suddenly acting so hesitant as if you haven't spent the last several years longing for each other?

"...Bucky," He shallows somewhat nervously when you whisper his name, meeting eyes once again, "...I'm Holiday Stark..."

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

[fullstcp]

"Snow Angel" by Reneé Rapp Sentence Starters

TALK TOO MUCH

"It didn't feel like a dream."

"Don't think I could love you more."

"So what the hell does it all mean?"

"I'm taking everything I see as a sign."

"I know it's crazy but what if it's right?"

"I'm here again, talking myself out of my own happiness."

"I wonder if we should just sit here in silence."

"I think I talk too much."

"That's just the deal that I made."

"Having said all that, do you still wanna be with me?"

"I wanna be with you, like maybe even forever."

"Holy shit, okay, maybe not forever."

"I mean like I'm, I'm not saying not, forever."

"I actually have no idea what I'm saying."

"Are you mad at me?"

"But like, if, if you are then I'm gonna resent you."

"Do I actually hate you?"

"Like, do you still love me?"

I HATE BOSTON

"You got to be a big hometown hero."

"Why'd we have to cover so much ground?"

"As far as I'm concerned, they should just burn the whole city down."

"God forbid, you're not the center of attention."

"You must be exhausted."

"Don't you miss me?"

"Casual's the way you chose to leave."

"You're written all over every single street."

POISON POSION

"You get on my nerves."

"You're so fucking annoying, you could poison poison."

"You're the worst person on earth."

"Forgiving you is pointless."

"It didn't have to be like this."

"You almost got away with it."

"But unlucky for you, I am that bitch."

"I hate you and your guts."

GEMINI MOON

"Never know who you're gonna get."

"We're in love or we never met."

"Every day I'm different."

"I talk shit then I bite my tongue."

"I exist on a pendulum."

"You're so fucking perfect."

"How come I'm not feeling more?"

"Yesterday was heaven, now I'm bored."

"I bet you're sick of it."

"I should just be better to you."

SNOW ANGEL

"What's misery without company?"

"It's hard to laugh when it's hard to breathe."

"I'll make it through the winter if it kills me."

"Smiles hide what secrets keep."

"Can't tell a lie if you never speak."

"I tried so hard, I came so far."

"I met a boy/girl, he/she/they broke my heart."

"I blame him/her/them cause it's easier."

"But I still look for him/her/them in her/him/them."

"I loved back then what I hate today."

"I wish I went a different way."

"But if I went back, I would do the same."

SO WHAT NOW

"I found out from a friend of a friend that you're here again."

"What gives you the nerve to come back to the city that I live in?"

"So what now?"

"Should we talk?"

"Do you tell your friends that things ended well?"

"Both of us like to pretend."

"If I miss your call I'm gonna cry."

THE WEDDING SONG

"It was timeless like you and me."

"You are my one, you set my world on fire."

"I know there's Heaven, but we must be higher."

"I'm gonna love you 'til my heart retires."

"Forever we'll last."

"Why'd you have to mess it all up?"

"Why'd you have to burn it all down?"

PRETTY GIRLS

"You say that I'm your favorite."

"You think that I'd be flattered."

"It's pathetic cause you're right."

"This conversation's classic."

"I can predict this shit, line by line."

"I like a straight jacket, but it feels like it's a little tight."

"Yeah, your boyfriend's/girlfriend's cute."

"Oh, shit, yeah, he/she/they can come too."

"You'll be his/hers/theirs in the morning anyway."

TUMMY HURTS

"I can't believe I let you hit it."

"In hindsight, that might be the worst part."

"Oh, I taught you everything you know."

I WISH

"Some goodbyes are forever."

"So what's that mean for you and I?"

"I thought we'd always be together."

"I know too much now."

"I'm not ready for you to go."

"It hasn't even happened."

"I've been mourning since I was ten years old."

"Stay a little longer."

WILLOW

"Looks like you're still getting used to being fully grown."

"I know it's hard to slow down."

"There's still more to go."

"Maybe it's just how you're treated."

"Only so much you can explain over the phone."

"So I'm coming to you."

"Don't cry."

23

"It's my Jordan year."

"I thought this shit would look good on me."

"But I just feel weird."

"I still can't fly."

"Thought I'd be ahead, but I'm down by five."

"Everything looks good on paper."

"I still haven't learned how to calm down."

"It feels like everyone hates me."

"How old do you have to be to live so young and careless."

"My wish is that I cared less."

"So don't pretend now that we're cool."

"I hope I'll understand me more."

"But I'm afraid to care less."

MESSY

"You think I'm so laid back."

"And you love that I move fast."

"You don't notice one red flag."

"On the surface I'm too perfect."

"I know you just met me."

"Right now you've got nothing against me."

"I know how to make myself crazy."

"Loving me gets messy."

"Half of all my exes regret me."

I DO

"I leave a key in my mailbox just for you."

"It's the only time that I'm ever sleeping next to you."

"I thank my lucky stars, but, it's tearing me apart."

"You don't see us like I do."

"You don't see us from my view."

"When we're saying, 'I love you', I mean it different than you do."

"That's the closest to God that I will ever be."

"We don't need to talk, our eyes can speak."

"I only need one sign to match your energy."

"Everyone knows it's us against the world."

"I'll love you 'til there's no blood left in my heart."

SWIM

"I'm up in the middle of the night again."

"Same beginning, middle, but still no end."

"Back at the beginning with you."

"I'm gonna toss and turn."

"How could waterboarding feel so good at first?"

"Dreams of us, they turn into nightmares."

"If it's love then why do I feel scared?"

"I never stood a chance."

"The original ending of a true romance."

"Guess I'm destined for the role of Juliet."

"Rather be dead than confused."

"How can we get out of this with no bloodshed?"

TUMMY HURTS (remix feat Coco Jones)

"Sin is a cycle."

"Lied to my face, it's your hobby."

"Boy, you're fine as hell for a psycho."

[hello-nichya-here]

Thank you for being sympathetic to Alicent and viewing her situation with actual nuance and understanding

I'm proship as they come but the way the majority of the HOTD fandom talks about her make me so deeply uncomfortable with how casually cruel and lacking of sympathy they are. Like yeah she's a fictional character, but yeesh, their hatred of her is so eerily close to actual IRL misogyny. It's one of the very few times when fictional discussion is crossing the reality line for me

Oh, it has absolutely turned into real life misogyny - there's a ton of idiots online threatening to do all kinds of vile thing to the actress because she dared to comit the crime of playing a character they don't like.

And I meant it, even as someone who is very firmly Team Black, the Greens are interesting, compelling, complicated characters that are fun to watch, so even when I'm pissed at one of them is a "love to hate" kind of situation, because they're still being entertaining.

And again, Alicent was objectively screwed over the entire show, by her father, her husband, and by her society in general. Did she sometimes make things worse for herself or hurt other characters who didn't deserve it? Yes. But so did Rhaenyra, Daemon, Viserys, Aegon, Aemond, etc. The whole point of that story is practically nobody stays fully innocent when there's a full on war going on, and EVERYONE becomes a victim of the circumstances in said war.

I might want Rhaenyra to be queen, but it IS objectively unfair how Alicent was raised to think her duty was to marry whoever her father picked for her and give her husband male heirs to inherit all he had, and she did that without complaining for the longest time - and then her husband not only doesn't want her children to inherit, but he also has the nerve to call his child of a previous marriage his ONLY child.

I would not blame her one bit if she started throwing stuff at Viserys while screaming "Then why the fuck did you marry me and make me have kids with you for? The fuck was that about?" Hell, she could snap one day give Viserys too much medicine to kill him once and for all, I'd say she was fully justified (and in the truly pitiful state he was in, he might actually thank her fo it).

It really is no surprise that, when Rhaenyra makes a toast in Alicent's honor, thanking her for all the devotion she offered to her father through the years, caring for him as his health worsens, it led to the ONLY time adult!Alicent says she believes Rhaenyra would be a good queen. It's the first time in YEARS anyone has thought of everything she was put through, everything she had to sacrifice for the sake of other people who didn't even deserve it - and so it becomes the first, and sadly last, time she sees eye-to-eye with her former friend, and recognizes that Rhaenyra's situation of "You were named heir then your father went and got you two brothers despite knowing that would likely cost you the throne" is also not fair.

Otto and Viserys are to blame for all this misery for everyone in both sides of the conflict (except maybe Daemon's, to some extent at least) - Otto for using his own daughter and grandkids as pawns in the Game Of Thrones, and Viserys for being a pushover that lets himself be manipulated AND uses "I'm just a sick, fragile old man mourning my beloved wife that I murdered" as excuse to justify remarrying and causing a ton of trouble for everyone just so he has someone by his side (and not even appreciating said person) and doesn't feel lonely.

Alicent's biggest sin was not realizing she should not have put up with this bullshit - but how could she considering how young she was when it all happened and the way she was raised to think she had to obey her father and husband no matter what?

[cynicaesura]

Dying to read any of your Muriel and Crowley relating to each other snippets

Well shit okay please enjoy the first two chapters of what I am definitely calling All Our Gods Have Abandoned Us

Also please pretend I linked the "that's not constructive criticism" meme bc I can't find it but I like to think I'm funny

One year.

It had now been one year since that day. That awful day. That fucking roller coaster of a day that Crowley had dared to believe might be the greatest day in more than six millenia of existence.

Won't make that mistake again.

If life had taught him anything over and over and over again it was that faith is bullshit. Faith in God, faith in... shit even the ?-damned Bentley had betrayed him on occasion.

Well FUCK God and--okay he could never stay mad at his car--but most of all

FUCK. AZIRAPHALE.

Crowley had learned his lesson. He'd had his year of constant, uninterrupted contemplation over an eternity of heartbreak and betrayal with nothing and no one to distract him.

He was done. Three-hundred and sixty-five days later he was done moping and crying and mourning a life he was never going to have. He was done. He was over it. He was over A--

The doorbell rang.

Was...could...is it...? The timing was too perfect. Or terrible. A sick joke. But still...

Crowley cautiously approached the door. For a moment he paused, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Shit.

---

Crowley slammed the door before the angel on the other side could see him break. How had he let this happen again?? He'd literally just told himself not five minutes before that hope was stupid and he was done with it. Fuck.

It was then that he processed fully what he saw outside the apartment.

Well fuck, he thought, I think someone else might need to break down more than I do.

Crowley composed himself before opening the door again. Standing there on his not-particularly-welcoming welcome mat was Muriel, dressed 100% more like a regular human than the last time he had seen them, but also with 100% more tears than he had ever seen pour out of a human's eyes.

"Come in," Crowley said, and Muriel immediately ran to wrap their arms around his waist and sob into his shirt.

"Oh-okay. Ow. Um," Crowley choked out as the very small angel managed to squeeze breath he didn't even really need out of him. Muriel made no indication of hearing him. He sighed and awkwardly patted them on the head.

Crowley didn't know Muriel all that well, which was by choice as there was only ever one angel he really cared to know any any of the others were just thorns in his side. But Crowley always had a soft spot for kids, and Muriel's wide-eyed trust and optimism and fascination with everything had an innocence to it, and they had always trusted him even when he was manipulating them.

"What happened?" he asked after a few minutes of letting Muriel clutch him and cry on his chest.

Muriel let go and stepped back, sniffling and wiping their eyes. "It's gone. The bookshop is gone," they said. "It's all gone."

Crowley felt a pit in his stomach. "What do you mean 'gone'?" he asked.

"I went out to the park to read because the weather was so nice," they said, "and when I came back it was just gone! The sign, the books, everything, and it had a big 'for lease' banner where it used to say 'A. Z. Fell and Co.'"

After letting out another sob they continued, "and I thought there must be some mistake up at Headquarters but suddenly I couldn't even feel them anymore and couldn't contact Heaven or even call the elevator and now I don't know what to do! They never gave me any instructions for this!"

A wave of confusion and fear and rage washed over Crowley all at once. Gone? The bookshop couldn't be gone. Aziraphale would never allow that to happen and he certainly wouldn't have allowed poor, sweet, idiot Muriel to slip through the cracks.

Yeah. Just me, he thought, before shaking his head as if that would make him stop thinking about it.

"What were your instructions for running the shop? What was going on in Heaven leading up to this?"

Muriel shifted uncomfortably. "Well a year ago the Metatron put me in charge of the shop when Aziraphale," Crowley winced at the name--"took over as Supreme Archangel and then Aziraphale sent me a binder full of guidelines on how to run the shop."

Crowley snorted. Of course he had made a whole binder for Muriel to ensure not a single book was ever out of place.

"Okay, and then?" he prompted.

"And that's it."

"That's it??"

"Yes," said Muriel. "That was the last time I heard from them."

Crowley let out a big sigh. It was one thing to do it to him. To cast him out and beat him down and reject him over and over again. But Muriel was innocent. Innocent and naïve and simple. He pulled them back into a protective embrace. They were now just an angel and a demon alone on Earth, abandoned by everyone they cared about.

[whibleysims]

When times got tough, Richard let his guitar do the talking -- a habit he picked up in his teen years. He had a lot on his mind to work through, and exams were at the bottom of that list.

"Rich?"

He almost didn't hear her over the wail of his guitar, but a reflex kicked in when Amy called his name.

"Thank god, I think I'm legit going crazy!"

"What's wrong?"

Amy walked right past him with a dramatic sigh. "Where do I begin," she said.

Come on in, thought Richard. This won't be awkward at all.

He listened to her go on about nearly everything wrong in her life at the moment; starting with exams, then life after university anxiety, her mother's second wedding that she was against, how her brother blew her off about it, and finally ending with how she feels like the last person still mourning her dead father.

Rich replied to her rant with a big puff of air through his lips.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?"

He shrugged. "Uhh--"

"No, you're right. I deserve this."

"Amy--"

"I'm alone!"

"You're not alone. You have, uh--"

"Exactly."

"You didn't let me finish," he said as he sat next to her. "I was going to say, you have Max."

She frowned.

"And me, too," he offered.

"I haven't seen you around much lately. I didn't know you even knew about me and Max."

"Word gets 'round."

"I've been a bad friend. Why on earth did you let me drone on and on about my stupid problems then?"

"I like hearing you talk," he shrugged with a grin.

"That just makes me feel worse."

"Okay, what about I'm so sick of studying that I'd rather hear you complain for two days straight then look at another textbook."

"That's better," she chuckled a little.

"I guess I should--" Amy scratched her head and released a sigh. "I don't know what I should do."

"Go for a walk? Clear your head?"

"Yeah, that might help."

"You don't have to go, you could stay here," Richard regretted saying that immediately.

"No, I should probably go. I've wasted enough of your precious procrastination time."

"But I wanna hear you complain, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Hey, are you going to graduation?" she asked.

"Yeah, my dad wants pictures," Richard rolled his eyes.

"You should come with me and Max!"

"I don't know."

"We'll go as a threesome, it'll be fun."

"Threesome?" he raised a brow.

"Will you think about it?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll think about it."