#was gonna make a set of eight but this colouring KILLED ME

[shadowedvales]

so… in the additional media of stranger things (specifically the comics i’m mentioning), it was initially brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as eleven was. it was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. and i just…. sure henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but i think i am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

i genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and brenner is far more intriguing than the show. everything with 9/9.5, ricky, and francine. eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. and they all had such a range of interesting powers. i firmly stand with the idea that jane is the only one who can contact the void.

brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out terry was pregnant. he discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. there would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. because of this, i would not put it past a man like brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” in this case, eleven.

eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because jane was 011. so there were at least ten kids before her. but i always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. that they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. with flying colours.

i just think the whole rainbow room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. boring and predictable. i think at this point my portrayal of her time in hawkins lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. where having the rainbow room, although eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. albeit extremely warped and toxic. knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. doesn’t sit well with me. i think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. which is why kali is also so important to her growth. i thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. although peter becoming vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, peter ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. but before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. peter is shot on the spot, and eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. in this timeline, henry would be vecna, but henry would not be peter ballad.

when eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, brenner had the eight children killed. kali had already escaped. this was the main cause for peter to gain eleven’s trust and try to get her out. because if brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

when eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with peter. brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a peter, that she must have been dreaming. eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given peter told her of the day terry broke in the lab, but brenner is convincing enough to make eleven believe it was all in her head. say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

i still do wanna keep the henry creel canon, and keep him as 001. brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. brenner definitely wants to be able to control henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. killing him would be too big of a loss.

when eleven is ten years old, henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto hawkins lab. he almost kills brenner by snapping his bones, but eleven manages to stop him. her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends henry to the upside down. she does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. eleven is rewarded for her efforts. although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. also loved the idea of brenner sending her into the void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

by the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the upside down is basically what we see in canon. because she passed out the moment after she sent henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. for two years she believed this, until making contact with the demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

due to her saving brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. she happened to be there. saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) brenner constantly thanks her. but in a very condescending way. tells her: “you saved me so i can continue saving you.” aka, harness your abilities and see what else i can achieve from you. despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. that she owes him something further.

i don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. it makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

it also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. they would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. as far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with benny, i'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. where she followed the boys home without thought.

also it's important to note that after time, jane does understand that peter ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from terry) who wanted the best for her. when she remembers him, knows that brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. he was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. this is another catalyst as to why after season two, jane never refers to brenner as papa. she does not give him that sort of credit.

#study‚ in my dreams it's all real and my heart has so much to reveal. #THINKING THOUGHTS. i have had this concept in mind for a while but i THINK i’ve fleshed it out properly now. #will write this up properly one day (never). #although henry offering eleven a place at his side wouldn’t be canon #he would definitely still look at her as an enemy for basically stopping his revenge. #AND the whole speech between he and jane never sat right with me. #saying brenner made him what he was / that it wasnt his fault etc. Like. No? henry was a sociopath. he killed his family. #brenner didn’t do anything to make him who he is. so jane always saw him for exactly what he was #and there’s absolutely no sympathy there. #and then regarding my season four canon as her regaining her powers by remembering the massacre/the fight. i am changing that to her #regaining her powers by simply confronting her past. understanding what she went through. finding ways to cope with it physically and #mentally. getting coping mechanisms from her therapist. seeking help. not needing to know WHY this happened to her (because there is not. #and will never be a reason.) but finding ways to accept it and move on. how to move on from eleven and become janessa ives. #also just because in this case henry doesn’t massacre a bunch of kids? It doesn’t make him any less evil. in this instance i am following #the idea that some of the workers were prisoners there in hawkins lab. and henry killed a bunch of the workers. so would definitely have #killed some innocent people. #just because i am separating peter from henry. does NOT mean i am excusing anything from henry/vecna. #in this case they are two completely different people. although i highkey wanna use jcb as peter because he just did the role SO WELL and #was SO BELIEVABLE i’m not sure about it yet. because i don’t want anyone to get the impression that i’m making excuses for henry. #BUT YES. #this be the new canon. <3 #idc brenner is such a good fuckin villain he’s disgusting but so intriguing.

[shadowedvales-a]

so… in the extra canon of stranger things (specifically the comics i’m mentioning), it was initially brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as eleven was. it was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. and i just…. sure henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but i think i am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead. because,

i genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and brenner is far more intriguing than the show. everything with 9/9.5, ricky, and francine. eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. and they all had such a range of interesting powers. i firmly stand with the idea that jane is the only one who can contact the void.

brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out terry was pregnant. he discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. there would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. because of this, i would not put it past a man like brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” aka eleven. eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because jane was 011. so there were at least ten kids before her. but i always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. that they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. with flying colours.

i just think the whole rainbow room, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. i think at this point my portrayal of her time in hawkins lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. where having the rainbow room, although eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. albeit extremely warped and toxic. knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. doesn’t sit well with me. i think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. which is why kali is also so important to her growth.

i genuinely thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable.

although peter becoming vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting. maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, peter ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. but before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. peter is shot on the spot, and eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. in this instance, henry would be vecna, but henry would not be peter ballad.

when eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, he had the eight children killed. kali had already escaped. this was the main cause for peter to gain eleven’s trust and try to get her out. because if brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

when eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with peter. brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a peter, that she must have been dreaming. eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given peter told her of the day terry broke in the lab, but brenner is convincing enough to make eleven believe it was all in her head. say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

i still do wanna keep the henry canon, and he could easily still be 001. brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. brenner definitely wants to be able to control henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. killing him would be too big of a loss.

when eleven is ten years old, henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto hawkins lab. he almost kills brenner by snapping his bones, but eleven manages to stop him. her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends henry to the upside down. she does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. eleven is rewarded for her efforts. although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy. brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. also loved the idea of brenner sending her into the void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

by the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the upside down is basically what we see in canon. because she passed out the moment after she sent henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. for two years she believed this, until making contact with the demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

although henry offering eleven a place at his side wouldn’t be canon, he would definitely still look at her as an enemy for basically stopping his revenge. AND the whole speech between he and jane never sat right with me. jane telling him that brenner hurt him, made him what he was etc. Like. No? henry was a sociopath. he killed his family. in this one instance, brenner didn’t do anything to make him who he was. so jane always saw him for exactly who he was, and there’s absolutely no sympathy there.

#⅋. [ ✦ ] ﹕ in my dreams it's all real and my heart has so much to reveal ‚ study . #long post / #and then regarding my season four canon as her regaining her powers by remembering the massacre/the fight. i am changing that to her #regaining her powers by simply confronting her past. understanding what she went through. finding ways to cope with it physically and #mentally. getting coping mechanisms from her therapist. seeking help. not needing to know WHY this happened to her (because there is not. #and will never be a reason.) but finding ways to accept it and move on. how to move on from eleven and become janessa ives. #also just because in this case henry doesn’t massacre a bunch of kids? It doesn’t make him any less evil. in this instance i am following #the idea that some of the workers were prisoners there in hawkins lab. and henry killed a bunch of the workers. so would definitely have #killed some innocent people. #just because i am separating peter from henry. does NOT mean i am excusing anything from henry/vecna. #in this case they are two completely different people. although i highkey wanna use jcb as peter because he just did the role SO WELL and #was SO BELIEVABLE i’m not sure about it yet. because i don’t want anyone to get the impression that i’m making excuses for henry. #BUT YES. #this be the new canon. <3 #idc brenner is such a good fuckin villain he’s disgusting but so intriguing.

[the-archangel]

Friday's Job

Been thinking about V and Johnny going out on jobs together and what their days would be like, so this came from that

Kerry's not happy V has gone back to the merc life with Johnny, but that doesn't mean there's no room for a bit of fluffy smut between them later on!

The neon colours the rain with hues of blue and pink as it teems down onto the City below. The few people around in these early hours keep their eyes to the floor, either to ward off the worst of the weather on their way to work, or to keep away prying eyes on their way home, but one pair of eyes are looking upwards, one rain-soaked face is searching the building towering above for a signal in the eighth-floor window. Two flashes of yellow light, that’s it, he makes his way towards the imposing glass doors of the office block and slips inside.

The reception area is empty at this time of night, protected by the double doors – now unlocked, and several security cameras – now disabled. The lifts were disabled along with the cameras so he finds the stairs and takes them two at a time reaching the eight floor only a little out of breath a short time later. He has to push the door hard to access the Corpo offices he knows to be on the other side, the body leaning against it seems to be tangled in something stopping him from pulling it away, “Hang on,” a voice tells him from the other side, and the unfortunate woman is lifted and moved, the electrical cord around her neck clattering onto the floor.

He stands in the doorway surveying the scene, apart from the woman, a further maybe six bodies are scattered around – quite literally – taking a deep breath he steps over the human detritus, avoiding making a mess of his boots as much as possible, and reaches his partner on the other side of the room. It always fascinates him to watch how he effortlessly hacks into computer systems, the calm look on his face belies the difficulty of what he’s attempting, only the golden glow around his emerald irises gives away his intent. Behind them, a laptop springs into life, they both grin as the information is transferred to the shard in its port, which is retrieved and safely stowed away.

“I thought the office was gonna be empty.”

“Killing Corpos is a problem all of a sudden?”

“Nah, but Kerry’s gonna be pissed, you’ve got a breakfast date in an hour and you’re not exactly dressed for it.”

V looks down grimacing at his blood-soaked shirt and pants, “So do what you’re here to do then and we can delta, he hates it when I’m late.”

Johnny takes the device out of the bag and places it gingerly under the desk in the middle of the room, V is already making for the stairs as he sets the timer and then follows. They make it to the other side of the street just in time to see the windows above light up, all evidence that they were ever there erased by the fire currently ripping through the floor.

“I’ll see you later, gotta delta, I’ll tell Kerry you said ‘hi’.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Johnny mutters watching V’s bike disappear towards Little China.

-

Slightly less than an hour later, a cleaned up but still hyper V strolls into the high-class restaurant like he’s been used to it his whole life. The waiter shows him to the window table where he is met with his partner’s tired but happy smile and a warm hug. “Shit, I hate having to do mornings,” Kerry grumbles as he re-takes his seat.

“It was your idea to meet here for breakfast Ker,”

“I know,” he says more softly, “I just wanted to see you, you’ve been so busy with work and shit I feel like it’s been forever.”

“It’s been four days,” smiles V, “and next week we’re together for a whole ten days, you’ll be sick of the sight of me!”

The waiter brings over coffee and a selection of pastries, setting them down quietly and efficiently before leaving them to their conversation.

“I get scared for you Vince, you could be at the club safe and sound, but you have to keep going on jobs with that fucking gonk, risking your life and for what?”

V carefully takes a sip of the hot coffee looking over the rim of the cup at his mainline’s worried face. It’s true, the club is his, he can do what the fuck he wants, never needs to go on another job in his life if he doesn’t want to. But he made Johnny his responsibility the moment he chose to bring him back – a move that Kerry neither understood nor approved of, though did finance for V’s sake – and Johnny wants to train to be a merc, so who better than V to do that?

“It’s not forever, only until he’s ready to go it alone. How about I make a deal with you? If he can do the job on Friday without much help, then I’ll go back to runnin’ the club.”

Friday’s job had been on Kerry’s radar for a couple of weeks, he’d heard V talking about it over the holo a couple of times and it was one of the reasons that he was so unsettled.

Breaking into an Arasaka run facility after everything V had been through with them seemed like the dumbest idea ever to Kerry, they surely would have his metrics on file and he’d be caught before he even got into the building, preem netrunner that V was, Kerry could not see how he was going to get away with this. He didn’t even know why he was doing it, it wasn’t a contract he knew that, what was so damn important in there that V had to have it before next week? Whatever it was, he wasn’t telling, he’d just shrug and change the subject whenever Kerry tried to bring it up.

Reluctantly, Kerry nods in agreement at the suggestion, it was the best he was going to get and at least if V was taking a step back it might be Johnny, not V who is in the firing line.

“’Sides, most of what we do isn’t that dangerous, this morning we were just doing a hacking job.”

Kerry studies V for a moment before asking with a raised eyebrow, “Is that why you’ve got dried blood under your fingernails and a bullet hole in the arm of your jacket?”

V looks quickly from his hands to his jacket, swearing under his breath. Luckily the bullet had gone through the material without touching him, but he can’t believe he hadn’t noticed it. He shrugs, “There were…complications, but it was fine, look, I’m fine.” He offers Kerry a cheesy smile, receiving a frown in return,

“Mhm, well let’s just get Friday over with, you coming home tonight?”

Covering his mainline’s hands with his own V answers softly, “It’ll be pretty late, but sure, I’ll be home.”

-

Way past 2AM, Kerry is sleeping fitfully, waking every half hour or so unable to settle until V’s promised return. He’s going to have a wait, V and Johnny have got themselves into a bit of a predicament.

“Shit Johnny, I told you to leave it alone!”

Johnny feels very slightly bad for getting them into this, but how could he be blamed if someone left a pile of interesting-looking gear just lying around? Of course he was going to go and have a look through it. In the time it took him to cross the room, the shutters had crashed down and now they were stuck in a warehouse in fucking Kabuki with a bunch of Maelstromers hunting them down.

V was seriously unimpressed, he’d managed to get down their numbers with some quick hacks, contagion had spread quickly and taken five out, he short-circuited another three and got one with a synapse burn, the floor was mostly clear as far as he could tell, but the computer controlling the doors was in the basement and there were at least another six or seven of them down there – and now they knew he and Johnny were here.

Even before turning to mercenary work, Johnny had been an OK shot, the only good thing his father ever did for him was to teach him how to hunt and the army had taught him how to use pistols and automatic weapons, so he leads the two of them towards the steps leading to the lower floor, gun in hand and on high alert. Of course V isn’t a bad shot either, but he’s increasingly reliant on his netrunning skills these days and follows scanning the area for danger.

In front of the door to the lower level, V puts his finger to his lips and listens. His enhancements mean that even from some distance away he can hear a whispered conversation pretty clearly,

“We’re like rats in a pipe down here Roach, what’re we gonna do?”

“Quit your whining, you wired the door up right? Soon as they walk in they’ll be flambé.”

That’s all V needs, ushering Johnny back up the stairs he aims an incendiary grenade at the door and runs as far and as fast as he can in the other direction covering his ears. The explosion rocks the entire building, fortunately leaving the stairs intact but the same can’t be said of the door or of one of the lurking gang members. Johnny manages to pick a couple more of them off as they ran towards them through the burning doorway, V shoots through the flames and gets a lucky hit on a third leaving two cowering at the back of the room.

The intense heat coming from the still burning doorway is a barrier to them entering the lower level, but V is quite capable of finishing then off without going anywhere near and does so with a minimum of fuss before remotely hacking the computer to open the shutters.

The sun is beginning to rise over the City as they step out, V hates turning up at Kerry’s grimy and stinking of smoke, but he’s too tired to go home to shower first, so he drops Johnny at his apartment before making his way to North Oak. V has been awake for around 27 hours at this point and is feeling every second of it as he swings the Apollo into the drive, he’s almost too tired to register surprise that Kerry is up at this time, or to argue as he herds him into the shower.

Kerry watches V sleep for a long time before finally nodding off himself, he’s still not – nor will he ever be – over the fear that everything he’s been through will catch up with him one day and Alt’s dark prediction will finally come true, so he watches the rise and fall of V’s chest and is lulled to sleep by the motion under his hand and the soft regular breathing beside him.

-

A clatter wakes V up with a start, it’s nearly dark again outside, not for the first time he’s slept the day away. Kerry appears with some coffee, “Sorry babe, the dumb silverware drawer wouldn’t close so I had to give it a nudge.”

V grins into his coffee, “With your boot?”

“Yeah, didn’t work though.”

“Gimme a few minutes to wake up and I’ll have a look at it.”

Kerry sits on the bed next to V smoothing the covers and frowning, “You working tonight?”

“Nah, Thursdays are quiet, Clair can run the bar and Johnny’s got a real straightforward klepping gig that even he can’t fuck up.” V watches his lover’s face brighten, “Why? You wanna do something?”

Biting his lip Kerry looks through his lashes at the other man, “Well there’s this industry thing tonight… I know you hate them but we don’t have to stay long and there’s free sushi.”

“Course we can go,” Kerry knows V can never resist his puppy-dog eyes, “I’ll even let you pick out my outfit.”

-

The sushi was good, the wine was OK, the company was dire, so V and Kerry sit in a corner away from the crowds sharing a plate and chatting. An observer would note the way their fingers are entwined over the table, how their knees are touching, the closeness of their faces despite the relative quiet of the club and the soft voices they use exclusively with each other. Promoters send over photographers, but the couple barely notice only having eyes for each other, the intrusion used to bother V but Kerry always remained unflustered knowing that yet another picture of him with the same blurry-faced man was hardly going to set the world on fire.

V had been ignoring calls all evening, having disconnected his phone from his holo and turned off his alerts. With Kerry on his way to the bathroom he chances a quick look at his phone and sighs as he sees the increasingly irate stream of messages from Johnny’s number, and one from Clair’s warning him that Johnny was on the warpath. It seems the job had gone well, goods were klepped and returned, Johnny got his payday, but this is the problem, the eddies that Wakako sent were not the same as those promised and Johnny had made the gonk move of going to confront her about it. V could’ve told him that the promised rate was for himself only, an experienced merc with an excellent rep, not for Johnny, an unknown quantity, but of course V hadn’t been answering his phone – shit.

Kerry returns to see V shrugging on his jacket and promising to explain when he gets home, he puts the car fob into Kerry’s hand and runs into the warm night air of Corpo Plaza hopping into the cab he’d called and messaging Johnny to tell him he was on the way. He’s beginning to regret the monkey suit that he’d wound up wearing, but at least he still had Archangel and his monowires. The cab is taking forever, the last message V had from Johnny was over an hour ago and made little sense, something about the Tyger Claws and a large knife. Finally pulling up in Japantown, V sprints out of the cab and into the back room where the fixer conducts her business.

“Ah, V. How pleasant of you to visit, I thought our paths might cross tonight.”

“Hey Wakako, I’m looking for…”

“Yes, yes, your annoying friend. I’m afraid some of my boys have had to have a word with him about his manners.”

Shit, “It was my fault, he called but I didn’t answer. I should’ve dealt with it personally.”

“Yes, even just as a professional courtesy you should have come yourself, but we cannot change what has been done. I will have my boys bring him to you, wait here.”

A quick call later and soon V hears an ominous dragging noise coming from outside the door, two of the biggest Tyger Claws V has ever seen manoeuvre their way through with a lank haired, bloody faced Johnny barely suspended between them, they unceremoniously let him fall to the floor before leaving the way they came. The dark-haired merc looks up through his blood-crusted eyelashes and spits a gobbet of blood into his hand.

“V dear, give the boy a towel to wipe his face would you?”

Looking around the room he sees a stack of towels by the sink and picks out the top one before wetting it and passing it to Johnny who grabs it angrily wipes his face and hands and passes it back.

“I trust that our business here is both concluded and forgotten?”

Not giving the other man even a chance to speak, V drags him up from the floor and towards the door. “Of course Wakako, have a pleasant evening,” he says through gritted teeth.

-

A safe distance outside Johnny is exactly as pissed as you would expect, V listens patiently while he lists all of his shortcomings both as a person and a fixer and tells him what a terrible friend he is, all the while supporting himself with an arm around V’s neck and limping along beside him. “What were you doin’ anyway that was so important? Why the suit?”

“It was supposed to be my night off if you remember, we were at a shit party if you must know.”

“Well I’m glad it was shit, I hope you get food poisoning from whatever nasty Corpo scop you’ve been eating.”

V sniggers at Johnny’s half-meant sentiment, Johnny smiles at V’s snigger, “So, how’s your face, any permanent damage d’ya think?”

“Only to my ego,” Johnny admits, “I’ll go see Vik in the morning, just need to sleep right now.”

“Nah let’s get you there now, not good to sleep on a concussion or something.”

Johnny had parked the Porsche a couple of streets away, so they take it across town to a sleepy Vik who confirms V’s suspicions.

“Yep, looks like a concussion and a fractured eye socket, can fix one easily enough, the other just needs you to rest for a few days.”

V takes the doc by the elbow and leads him out of Johnny’s earshot, “Vik, I really need him compos mentis tomorrow, is there anything you can give him to… you know… hurry it along?”

Frowning, Vik takes off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose, “There’s a couple of things I could do I guess, one’s illegal and the other is merely unethical.”

“Thanks Vik, I owe you big time.”

The eye-socket is fixed and Johnny is given a shot of something that makes him feel both indestructible and brittle at the same time, with some pills to chase it up with in the morning. “He shouldn’t be left alone tonight V, once he’s asleep he’ll be out for a good 7 hours and you’ll need to check on him regularly.”

“Sure Vik, no problem and thanks.”

V drives back to Johnny’s apartment punching him in the arm whenever he sees him nodding and manages to get him into the lift and onto a couch before he’s out for the count. He messages Kerry broadly explaining what happened and promising to see him later, then sets an alert to go off every 90 minutes and settles to sleep on the other sofa. V sleeps brokenly, checking on Johnny throughout the night and is finally woken by the sound of the shower late the next morning.

“Hey V, dunno what was in that shit Vik gave me but woo! I feel awesome this morning. Better hop in there yourself and get changed, got a big day today.”

V wishes he’d had a dose of whatever it is Johnny’s had cuz he’s tired as hell and feels like shit. He gets a shower and borrows some of Johnny’s clothes – which on closer inspection are actually V’s clothes some of which he’d previously borrowed from Kerry. Coffee and toast go some way to improving V’s mood, but he suspects it’ll be later today safe at home with Kerry and looking forward to the next few days before he truly feels OK.

-

Unlike a large proportion of the jobs he and Johnny take on, today’s job had been intricately planned down to the tiniest detail. Security guard’s routines had been noted to the second, every camera and sensor had been mapped, nothing had been left to chance. The facility holding what they were after was off a dirt track way into the Eastern Badlands and V had been tuning the Rattler for weeks getting her ready for the trip, all they needed to do was grab their gear and go.

The early afternoon sun was almost unbearable, even with the AC on full blast the car was like an oven, but to make good time stopping was not an option so they guzzle some of the gallons of water they have brought along and try their best not to pass out from the heat. A few hours after setting off it is two hot, sweaty, irritable mercs that emerge gratefully from the stifling heat of the car and make their way towards the shadow of the warehouse facility that is their target.

As arranged with an easily bribed employee, the door to the staff kitchens had been left unlocked so they slip inside, V working through his list of cameras and sensors to disable and Johnny scouting ahead. Everything was exactly as they had expected, good old Arasaka efficiency, and everyone was where they were supposed to be. Having no desire to kill anyone unnecessarily, guards and staff are brought down either through V’s hacks or Johnny’s deftly applied stranglehold, they reach the vault with zero casualties and zero problems.

Easily opening the lock they swing open the door and look at the bank of refrigerated storage devices taking up the main part of the large room. Each has its own unique code which V now scans to find the one that they came for – and then one other one that Johnny insisted was important too. Stashing what they have found in the holdall they brought specially, they slip away into the still stifling desert air, quietly celebrating a job well done.

V had got them here so Johnny drives back, despite the adrenaline rush tiredness has caught up with the fixer and he sleeps peacefully for most of the journey home allowing Johnny to indulge in his guilty pleasure of listening to the Country music station on the radio. By evening they are nearing the City once more, North Oak is in sight and Johnny nudges V awake as they approach the Villa. “Wake up princess, your castle’s up ahead.”

Groggily, V swipes Johnny’s arm, yawns and watches as the lights of home get closer, Johnny pulls up the drive, but doesn’t get out of the car, his and Kerry’s relationship is still pretty rocky, “Thanks Johnny, I’ll come by in the morning to get the gear.” Kerry sees the headlights sweep up the path and is waiting on the step as V gets there, Johnny rolls his eyes as he turns the car around and sees them hug before disappearing inside.

-

“Still not gonna tell me what that was all about?” Kerry asks as he lies in bed waiting for V to finish getting ready to join him.

“Nu uh, gonna have to wait until tomorrow.”

Kerry is a man of many – well some – virtues, but none of them are patience, and he’s finding the fact that Johnny knows when he doesn’t particularly hard to deal with. “Ah c’mon V baby, give Kerry a hint.”

Usually, V succumbs to Kerry’s sweet-talking pretty quickly, but this time he won’t be swayed, “You’ll find out soon enough Ker,” he tells him slipping between the cool covers, “I guess I’ll just have to find a way to distract you from thinking about it.”

“I guess you will,” Kerry agrees, grinning that he has his man back where he belongs.

-

Shortly after dawn, V reluctantly leaves Kerry sleeping peacefully, he has a few things to do before they can begin their break together, so it’s several hours later that Kerry awakens to the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. He watches the other man drop a holdall gently onto the bedroom floor and rub his hands over his face and neck before crossing the room to sit on the bed.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he says brightly, running his thumb over the implants on Kerry’s cheekbones, “sleep well?”

“Eventually,” Kerry answers leaning into V’s soft touch, “where’ve you been?”

“Just had a couple of errands to run, all yours now though.”

Kerry hums contentedly, rubbing against V’s hand like a contented cat, “Hmm, come back to bed baby, nowhere to be for a few hours yet.”

“You know I want to, but I brought coffee, and there’s pancakes in the kitchen.”

Frowning a little the Rockerboy looks up through his eyelashes, “They’ll keep,” he instructs the fixer, “besides you literally just said that you’re all mine and I want you in this bed, now.”

V smirks a little, how can he refuse such a request? He shrugs his jacket onto the floor and kicks off his boots pulling his shirt off on his way around to the other side of the bed and his pants off as he arrives. Kerry pulls back the covers and he slides inside allowing the other man’s arms to wrap around his waist and pull him, his back to Kerry’s chest, into a heated embrace. Calloused hands run over V’s chest, pausing to pinch at his nipples then continuing downwards, pressing against his taught stomach, pulling his hips back towards Kerry’s. Soft lips sink into V’s shoulder, gentle nips and a searching tongue tracing the veins and raising groans and sighs from the increasingly compliant merc.

The thick length of Kerry’s cock rubs up against the small of V’s back leaving drops of precum where it touches, a lube slicked hand reaches down between them and coats V’s opening and Kerry’s shaft, it’s unusual for the Rockerboy to want to top, but today is an unusual day so V leans into his touch, groans turning to gasps as first one, then two fingers slide inside him curling and massaging his prostrate, before pulling gently out to be replaced by the tip of Kerry’s impressively thick cock. “This OK baby?” he croons into V’s ear.

“Mhm, god…yes.” comes the reply.

Kerry shuffles V onto his front being careful to never lose contact and begins a slow, shallow rhythm that he knows drives his mainline wild. With his head buried in the pillow, V bites his lower lip enjoying the sensation of being filled by his lover and of the increasingly deep and frantic thrusts, until finally Kerry throws back his head and with an exclamation somewhere between a curse and a grunt pumps his load into V’s welcoming ass.

Both sink breathlessly onto the bed, Kerry’s soaked forehead resting on V’s shoulder, “Turn over Vince honey.” V sleepily complies brushing a kiss onto the top of the other man’s head as he turns allowing Kerry to flutter kisses down his stomach and wrap his lips around V’s semi-hard cock.

It’s possible, V reflects, that Kerry gives the best blow jobs on the planet, the perfect warmth, the intuitive rhythm, the way he sucks in his cheeks to create just the right amount of friction and of course one of the (un)fortunate side effects of the cyberware in his throat is that he no longer has a gag reflex, but the main thing that makes him good at it is – as  with his music – he fucking loves it, absolutely adores it in fact, the filthy noises he’s making right now as he works V’s dick betray the fact that he’s having at least as much fun as V is, if not a fair amount more. Relaxing into the feeling of building euphoria, V clings onto either side of the pillow – he’s scared he’d hurt Kerry if he laid a hand on him right now such is the intensity of what he’s feeling – and groans out a warning, but he knows Kerry will take it all, and he does, licking his lips lazily afterwards like a cat.

“Preem way to start the day, thanks Ker.” says V softly.

“Aw c’mon V, no need to thank me, just pay me back in kind later.” he purrs with a wink, before heading into the shower and leaving V to a cheeky ten-minute nap.

-

After a shower and a breakfast of reheated coffee and cold pancakes, the two men sit quietly on the veranda looking out over the city, chairs close enough for their fingers to be entwined between them.

“So, you gonna tell me what all the secrecy’s been about then?” Kerry asks, lowering his shades to look the other man in the eye.

V grins, “Nah, not yet, not long, but not yet.”

Pouting prettily, Kerry lights a cigarette, “Should probably start getting ready soon, need to delta in a couple of hours.”

-

It’s going to be a hell of a party; Kerry’s been planning it for weeks and has booked out the whole of Dark Matter for the occasion.

They have a lot to celebrate, V turned 30 a few weeks ago and there was a time not so long ago that they were sure that that would never happen, Kerry had managed to get out of his contract with MSM and had set up his own record company – it was going to cost him big time but was worth every enny, and it had been two years to the day since their first kiss right here on the balcony, not that Kerry had remembered – he was terrible with dates, but V had never forgotten.

“Two years huh?” Kerry asks blowing a plume of vanilla scented smoke down to the City below, “Two years since you promised to chase the shadows away.”

“How’d I do?”

Kerry looks into his mainline’s eyes, “Those fuckers wouldn’t dare come near me now, you’d kick their asses.”

“We’d kick their asses,” corrects V, “together.”

A tender look passes between them, fingertips slide across the chrome handrail to tangle together, the maître d' diplomatically coughs into his hand turning their attention to the guests currently exiting the elevator.

“Ker, before the party gets going, I want to give you something.”

“Do I finally get to find out what all the secrecy has been about?”

“Mhm,” V retrieves something from his inside jacket pocket while Kerry tries to hide his excitement, V rarely brings him actual gifts, but when he does, they are always extraordinarily special. A largish velvet pouch appears which V opens delicately, fishing inside and pulling out a gold chain with some sort of pendant hanging on it. Kerry stares at it for a moment then takes it cautiously into his hand,

“Is this…?”

“Mhm,”

He allows V to fasten it around his neck, then holds the pendant in the palm of his hand, running a finger over it and shaking his head, “How did you get it? I thought they kept it when…Oh, that’s what the job was all about, gettin’ this, I mean I love it, but…why?”

Kerry looks up quizzically at his mainline, still holding the pendant in his palm, V leans in and covers his hand with his own, “This is why we met, it’s why I’m here and not sat in a bloody heap in a doorway somewhere, it’s why Arasaka are manufacturing third-rate novelties instead of tanks these days, it’s part of me, part of us, it changed the world and now it’s yours.”

“The gold-plating is a nice touch.”

“Yeah well, nothin but the best for you Ker.”

-

Johnny wasn’t much one for refined parties, he much preferred an evening in a dive bar with a bottle of tequila and a couple of chooms, he’d hung around for an hour then driven back to his apartment smiling to himself when he remembered what was waiting for him there. He’d picked it up this morning but not had chance to get it out of the wrapping yet.

He sat on his couch carefully peeling off the brown paper cover then sat back and admired the job that the store had done of mounting it inside the Perspex case, his new arm was fine, virtually indistinguishable from an organic one, but this one, this one had played with Samurai, had held Alt Cunningham, had punched countless gonks and had been worth all the trouble to get it back.

#kerry is my muse #kerry eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x male v #cyberpunk kerry #kerry x male v #cyberpunk 2077 #v cyberpunk #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk v #kerry x v #johnny and v as friends

[castle-dominion]

7x1 driven audio commentary

A half a day? I think you mean a day & a half

One that you can actually tie? frank sinatra thing that I'm doing XD

I love how they let go of their fancy outfits but only beckett changes out entirely

WHY wear windbreakers over their tuxedos? ig bc they need to wear police stuff

Woah the camera I love it

lots of running but aren't their episodes done in eight days?

I believe I accidentally touched her boob JH: she's european she's fine with it

Getting caught watching lol bowman: shouldn't she go back in & apologize to him?

JH: you guys are missing me chewing her out SD: shut up All of them: you are handsome JH: Nice jacket. Why hasn't esposito worn that again?

I AGREE, THANK YOU FOR UNDOEING THE TOP BUTTON AGAIN, FIRST TIME SINCE S2

PJJ's favoutire prop? Her glasses.

The hesitation. The lack of information is as strong as the actual information.

SD: How old is molly now? 30? Amann: 32.

Yeah the fake coffee cup was SO good, & he's right someone used to bring coffee before castle, but she also probably got her own. & esposito totally had a past thing with becks.

I agree, if it was not so serious I'd LOVE to have them come in on rolly chairs.

Vinny my beloved.

Getting caught watching lol Panini sandwich is redundant but not wrong

Tension & anxiety is great after bouncy ones tbh, & the occasional weird one. But how DID he not recognize his voice? Then again vinny only spoke to him a few times, they are not close & ppl's voices change over the phones

Belief & nonbelief are so good, reminds me of montgomery

Why would it be such a long charade tho? Why not just avoid her

All season long he's kept this animosity, & wow

What finger? "some would call it broken" SD: ladies & gentlemen, this is the showrunner discovering that one of their actors has a broken finger, live

THAT WATER HAS BEEN THERE FOR FIVE YEARS? YOU GROW SEA MONKEYS IN THERE? IS THAT TRUE?

Bowman: I wrote in big magic marker "he left because of you" Her: I'm gonna kill bowman when he says "cut"

So does beckett speak french? how much?

Yeah man, passage of time

WAIT THEY LEGIT GOT THE COAST GUARD JH: I knew it was him bc his feet-- he has the smallest feet for a big guy

THIS HOSPITAL SET WAS BUILT JUST FOR THIS SCENE?

After all that complexity, just "I'm happy to see that guy"

RB: I need to recolour this scene SD: it's not too late, is it? Me: I want to see their faces tho, idiot

Ooh at the time of recording this audio commentary, amann is writing episode 20 & nobody knows how this unfolds!

Hm, very visual memory JH: but you're high functioning which is good SD: Hey thanks buddy

Huh everyone else on the skype call coast guard boat are not actors

Drinking game on this? & you cut em out before shooting & you cut more out in editorial?

How many fishers are on that damn boat!?!? eight children all fishing on that same tiny boat

Howard Grigsby

I also love her bedazzled "murder with a twinkle" lol. She IS serious.

JH: sure put a lot of blue in your colour correction SD: I think I owe someone money

just leaning on the railing & then boom suddenly you're going over

(discussing the light fading during filming) JH: I just tried to make my skin as light as possible

JH as esposito: "Just you & me, then ryan came along"

Why did CASTLE pay vinny? why not the people who abducted him? His friend from school?

RB: shoot him. shoot him. Maybe just kneecap him though.

Everyone IS bending to esposito's pov even tho ryckett want to trust castle.

But castle DID set up the tent there

A fenkins. fajenkins.

They set back up the abduction board! JH as JE: I don't trust you, Castle

Reminds me of the amnesia episode where the guy got back with his ex wife & she has that baggage but he does not

RB: I thought I was being subtle with [the elephant picture in castle's room]

Yeah they even broke the chair apart for the mummy episode

Yeah robert duncan is great!!

Ah they are shooting 7x19 during the recording of the audio lol

So yeah that was fun

#castle 7x1 #castle 7x1 spoilers #castle s7 audio commentary

[steveroger]

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER Scarlett Johansson as NATASHA ROMANOFF

#natasha romanoff #catws #marveledit #natasharomanoffedit #**mygifs #lauriegifs #**colourgifs #was gonna make a set of eight but this colouring KILLED ME

[tommyspeakycap]

Please could you write one with Grealish where you’re a Chelsea fan so refuse to wear a Villa shirt with his name on, and for bants Mount gets you a Chelsea shirt with his name and Jack gets all pouty?

omg I love this idea!! gets very smutty at the end ;) enjoy!

Villa Boy

A love for Chelsea had been something you adapted and grew to into as a young girl. Your dad was never entirely sure how to bond with his only daughter and your mother told him just to include you in what he loved. And so came your season pass with a little lanyard that still hung proudly in your childhood room right next to a shirt mounted in a glass photo frame with Frank Lampard's signature scrawled along the eight on the back.

It was actually how you met Jack in the first place, which is the only one single reason that he has for liking your club affiliation. Otherwise, it was one of the most annoying things in his world. It was often a source of teasing and taunting, you saying your team was better than his and him swaggering home and gloating for weeks when Aston Villa take a win over Chelsea. It was the bane of his life that he couldn't get you into that claret and blue. Not even to sleep in or wear around the house, you just would not dare put it on.

"I would feel my dad's shame emanate through the walls, maybe it would kill him. And then I'd lose every morsel of self respect I have, so not a chance." You'd snort, not even giving him a window for more persuasion.

His England shirt? that was fair game. You'd wear that with pride, to the shops, round the house, walking the dog and especially at his games but there was just absolutely no chance of getting you into his Villa shirt.

Though Jack may never admit it, it was one of his biggest wants. Seeing you in his England short was nothing short revolutionary - he'd said. It only made him want to see you in the Villa shirt more. That was his childhood club, getting to captain that was one of his biggest achievements and while he knew you were absolutely proud of him. You were the most proud and encouraging person in his life and there were no ifs buts or maybes in that.

But my god he knew you'd look fit in that claret and blue.

No matter how much it annoyed him, he wouldn't get you out of the darker blue home jersey of your favourite club no matter what he did. It was something he had come to accept over the course of your relationship, it was by and large fine.

Until that jersey said someone else's name across the back.

"Awh come on!" He yelps, mouth dropped open as you emerge into the kitchen with your toothbrush hanging out your mouth and only one shoe on. Jack knows you slept in because he switched off your alarm last night in hopes you'd miss the game, but Jack dropped a bowl when he tripped over the dog and woke you up anyway.

You going to the Villa v Chelsea game in a Chelsea shirt was bad enough, but now he's just clocked something that's sent his mind firing a mile a minute.

MOUNT

19

Not a fucking chance.

"Oi, you!" He calls out, throwing himself off the chair at the kitchen island, his feet fumbling over one another to get after you as quickly as possible. "What's up, Jack?" You hum innocently, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you stand in the doorway shoving on your other shoe. "Is something the matter?"

Jack gawks, opening and closing his mouth awaiting words to find his frazzled brain. "Yes!" He squeaks, a tone you'd never heard from a man before, let along your very deep voiced man. "There's no way that you're- what are you doing? Come back." He groans, his feet shuffling after you as you walk back through the house to find your car keys. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry up." You note sweetly, Jack drops his jaw. "We're not going anywhere until-"

"Hi Mason, yeah I got it. Fits like glove actually. Yeah, we're just leaving now. I'll meet you in the car park."

Jack's face was literally priceless. His agape, eye's wild, brows furrowed. A pout settles itself firmly into his lips the second he sits in the car with his arms folded over his chest like a toddler. You have to physically stifle a laugh at him as you beam the entire drive to Villa Park.

"M' gonna burn that." He states. You cast him a glance out the corner of your eye as you pull into the players parking. A snigger escapes despite your very best efforts and Jack resumes his frontward glare at the dashboard with his lips in a firm line. "Gonna win this game, burn that shirt and knock Mount flat."

You know he's not being serious about Mason. He's very fond of the player when they're on the same side. But you had become very close friends with him through the mutual love for the club he plays at and Jack absolutely despised that. He wasn't the kind to be bothered by your friends even to a moderate degree and even here he trusted you, he just fucking hated the concept of another club and another mans name over your back. It ticked him right off.

You know this very well. You knew what you were getting into the second Mason handed you that dark blue shirt. It was all fun and games really. You loved the club but you only wore the Mount shirt to get under Jack's skin. You thought it might even throw off his game a little.

The second he stormed onto the pitch and scored a goal 5 minutes into the game, you figured that might not be the case.

Every opportunity, every goal, every opening and every single tackle, Jack turned to you. He turned to you with fire in those brown eyes, sending you a cheeky wink. His passion, the very serious look etched onto his features and the way he was looking at you was fuelling a very different kind of fire in you.

Jack played the whole 90 minutes and he took Mason Mount down at every single given opportunity in a careful way that just evaded him getting a yellow card. He finished hot, sweaty and with a man of the match trophy for 2 goals and one assist with a majority of the game spent with the ball at his feet.

The 3 nil win should have been a lot more disappointing that it was, but he just looked so fucking good. The sweat stuck his hair to his temples, his muscles tight and protruding through exertion as he walks off the field after shaking every hand.

You're standing just outside the tunnel with Mason and John McGinn standing with you, talking about the match mostly. John makes a joke about you wearing that top more often, seems to be a good luck charm for Villa even if it's the opposing team. Mason scoffs and says; "More like an angry boyfriend wants to murder me charm."

That's when Jack appears and John barely gets his mouth open to greet him before Jack shoulders through the two footballers. His mouth finds your immediately. Hot, passionate, fiery and filled with his dominance.

He pulls back and grabs onto your hand tightly with his back to the two midfielders. Jack twists his body round with a daggering glare.

"Nobody," Jack growls, "fucks around with girl."

His tone, deep and gravelly, only serves to dampen your panties further in a way that makes your clench your legs together.

Jack's done with pouting, the teasing can resume later. For now, he's dragging you by the hand to a darkened conference room. Hiking you up his body before setting you on the table that sits at a miraculously perfect height that places you right against his bulge.

He wastes no time whatsoever ripping down your leggings and panties, his fingers finding you immediately to swirl pressured motions around your sensitive clit. "Ahh, who's got you moaning like that baby?" He rumbles, words vibrating through your lips.

"You Jack, oh god, you!" You pant as his fingers leave you feeling empty and needy. Jack easily tugs down his shorts and pulls himself out of his boxers to line up with your entrance. His victory sex is hot always, but usually there was a dry spell after a Villa v Chelsea game, so it had never been this hot.

"And who am I?" He grunts, pushing himself into you to hear your shuddering squeak of pleasure. He lays you down over the table, hands following you under your shirt to carefully and tentatively swirl his fingers over your nipples from under your bra. "Oh god, Jack," you move your hands to the hem of the blue shirt to lift it over your head, but Jack's hands stop them before you have the chance.

"No, no, no," he chastises with a smirk, "Want to fuck you in their colours," He continues to thrust roughly into you with each heavy breath, mouth and squeak that escapes you only spurring him on. "Want to fuck you with his name on your back, baby. Remind you who you belong to."

You shudder in pleasure with the feeling of his lips attaching to your neck, letting out a shaky, heavy breath as he snakes a hand down between you to swirl those circles around your more pleasureful spot once again. He knows the intricate details of your body better than any man ever has and he always ensures he uses it to his advantage, but nothing like today. His lips on the sweet spot of your neck, hitting and stretching you perfect between your legs with masterful work of his fingers pushing you closer and closer with each second that passed.

"Fuck , I'm so close-"

"Who's making you feel so good, baby?" He pants, skin slapping and heavy breathing echoing around the room. "You, Jack. You!"

"Not a Chelsea boy eh?" He grunts, teeth nibbling down over your collarbone. "Not a Chelsea boy baby is it?" He reiterates, pairing the movements of his hand only until you snap open your eyes again, "No Jack, it's all you. not a- oh god!"

Jack breathes a chuckle into your ear with an appreciative hum to follow.

"Yeah, Villa Captain isn't it? You're screaming out for a Villa boy, ain't ya?" He coaxes, edging you further and further as he speeds up to a pace he's never quite hit you with before. The adrenaline of the match, the irritation of that blue jersey and the passion for the win colliding to give him an energy he's never yet had. Watching your eyes roll beneath him wearing that stupid blue entices him on, only makes him want to pleasure you more if even possible. "Yes! Yes, I am, oh god just don't stop."

"Go on then," he encourages, voice deep in your ear. "Come undone for the Villa Captain baby."

He didn't have to tell you twice, that was for sure. The sight of your eyes fluttering, the feeling of you clenching around him with a steam of, "Fuck yes Jack!" sends him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm right after you, a strangle cry out of your name as it wracks through him.

When he lays down beside you in the table that very surpassingly withstood the pace of your antics, you're both breathless and shining with sweat. Your legs feel like jelly as you still throb from the pleasure. Jack turns his head to you with a lazy smirk, brushing some hair off your forehead as you turn to look at him.

"Well, I certainly do love a Villa boy."

#jack grealish smut #jack grealish prompt #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish x reader #jack grealish imagine #england national team imagine #england national team #footballer fics #football fics #footie fics

[underrated-love]

Table Eight

Type | Angst to fluff

Characters | Timeskip!Fukunaga x gn reader

Warnings | none really? mentions of getting stood up? Timeskip spoilers

Summary |  You get stood up on a date, but don’t worry, there’s a cute chef there to cheer you up

Words | 1.5k

A/N | Ooh by I was rushing to get this finished in time for his birthday :’) The best boy who deserves so much more content, and I will solely provide it if I have to. Considering he's a comedian now, I think he would probably talk a bit more then he used to

Hmm I’ve been working on this on and off for a while, trying to get it right, but it just didn’t come out the way I wanted? I definitely like it, but it could've been better, ya know?

<<—>>—<<—>>

You watched as the time on your phone ticked over, signifying that you'd been here for over an hour. Sighing, you clicked onto your messages. Nothing new, no reply to the text you'd sent to the guy you were supposed to be meeting up with.

He stood you up. Things were going so well between the two of you in the beginning, but the moment you wanted to meet everything seemed to go downhill. Honestly, you should've expected this; he would take hours to reply, and when he did it was never more than a few texts.

Bringing your hands to your face you sat there for a moment, contemplating your options. You could go home, but you’d have to wait for your friend to pick you up, seeing as you’d walked here; and there was no way you'd be walking back alone at almost 9 pm. That meant that you would have to wait at this restaurant even longer, and you hadn't even ordered anything.

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled, startling you more than you would admit. Bringing up your phone once again, you blocked his number and texted your friend, telling them that things didn't work out and you needed a ride. You set your phone down on the table, feeling it tilt as you shifted your weight, polished wood creaking under you. This diner wasn’t the most sophisticated place someone would usually go for a first date, but considering your current predicament, your choice seemed perfect.

It wasn't your fault he stood you up, you knew that, but that doesn't take away the way it hurt. Maybe you could have avoided this, if only you had predicted it...

Snatching the menu from where it had been sitting on the table all night, you just stared at it, eyes glossing over the words. At least you could make it seem like you were going to order. It probably only took a minute or two, but it felt like much longer, before someone was clearing their throat near you.

“Are uh, you okay? You’ve been sitting here for quite a while.” It was one of the servers, holding a pitcher of water in one hand, and a notepad in the other. “Can I get you anything?”

Glancing over the menu one last time, you didn’t look him in the eyes, knowing you would break down. Instead, you focused on his short hair, the lighting above you turning the brown a more pinkish colour. “Just get me whatever the chef would recommend.”

He gave you a quick nod, scribbled something on his notepad and left to take other patrons’ orders, never mind that you were one of the only people in the diner.

Eleven minutes later—you had been counting, someone you could only assume was the chef stepped from the kitchen. With both hands, he held a plate of food you couldn't recognize. He looked over the diner, presumably searching for your table number, number eight. The chefs’ hat he wore shifted as he turned, strands of dark hair peeking out from under it.

Helping him out a little you shifted your table number toward the center where he would be able to see it better. It didn't take him long to see you, considering there were even fewer people than before. He set your food down in front of you and you were finally able to get a good look at it. It was some sort of orange rice dish mixed with seafood.

“Oh thank you, and uh, I don’t mean to be rude but what is this?”

“Paella, a specialty of mine,” he supplied with a small smile, “it’s great with a little extra seasoning.”

Reaching for the salt you thanked him for the food, it really did look delicious. “And how much is this gonna come to? I should make sure I have enough money beforehand.”

“It’s on the house, you look like you’ve had a night peppered with disappointments,” he said, a chuckle escaping him as he slid the pepper shaker over to you. “Well I better get back to the kitchen, hopefully the rest of your night goes well.”

You watched as he walked back to the kitchen, stopping halfway to answer a question from a customer. He looked back at you after he opened the door to the kitchen, throwing you a quick thumbs-up, then he was gone.

You couldn't deny that he was cute, but the fact that he made a pun was like the icing on the top of a cake. You don't know when you had started smiling, but you definitely didn't stop until the sound of his voice left your head. 

The paella was amazing. Cooked perfectly—and thanks to his advice, the right amount of seasoning. You’d have to thank him the next time you saw him.

Checking your phone, you read the text from your friend saying they would arrive in just over ten minutes. You yawned, glancing at the time. 9:16 pm. Resting your head and arms on the table, you figured you could rest until your friend got here.

Once again, the sound of someone clearing their throat caught your attention. It was the pink-haired server from before, whose nametag read Hanamaki. He gestured to your empty plate, leaning to pick it up, “Are you done with this? Looks like you enjoyed it.”

“Yeah I'm done, it was really good. But are you sure I don't have to pay? I’d feel bad just eating it like that,” you reached to grab your wallet, fully ready to pay whatever it cost.

“Nah it’s fine.” He brushed you off, wiping down your table with a cloth, “could you pass me the table number?”

You grabbed the small card, looking at the number before handing it to him, “Well thank you, I really appreci-eight it.”

He stopped, a look that you could only describe as a mix between disappointment and fighting off a smile adorning his face as he shook his head at you. Somewhere behind you came a familiar chuckle, then the cute chef appeared next to you, no longer with his hat or apron, but a bag slung over his shoulder.

Hanamaki sighed lightheartedly, turning to his chef co-worker, “Alright, two joke-makers is enough for me, could you close up, Fukunaga?” He asked, already walking away.

The chef, Fukunaga apparently, nodded to him and slid into the chair across from you. 

“Wait, close up? I didn’t realize I’ve been here so long, I’m so sorry, I was just waiting on my friend to pick me up. I can leave if you want?” You offered, scrambling to grab your belongings. 

He dismissed you with a small shake of his head, “It’s fine, I’ve got some time to kill anyway. Wanna tell me what's been bothering you all night?”

“No, no, I don’t want to bother you with my troubles,” you started, but the look on his face told you he didn’t mind listening to you ramble. “Hmm, well, if you insist,” and you told him about the night you’ve had. The guy that stood you up, having to wait for your friend to pick you up, the amazing paella he cooked for you.

At this point, you were thankful your date hadn't shown up; if he did you probably would have ignored him in favor of your cute chef anyway.

In turn, Fukunaga told you a bit about himself, although in fewer words than you had used. He told you about his part-time job here as a chef, mainly because being a comedian doesn't pay as well as it should, and how he was heading somewhere after he closed up to perform one of his comedy acts.

“So you’re a comedian? That explains the love for puns! Maybe I could come to one of your shows sometime?” You were half-joking, but the way Fukunaga sat up a little straighter at your suggestion meant he liked the idea anyway.

Your phone buzzed beside you. Once. Twice. On the third buzz, you finally tore yourself away from the conversation you were invested in. They were texts from your friend, letting you know they were here, and you should hurry up and get in the car.

Finally standing up to leave, you thanked Fukunaga one last time for the paella, and once more for waiting with you when he could’ve closed up. “I’ll be sure to come here more often, and next time I had better get to hear more of your jokes.”

He held the door open for you with his shoulder as you walked out, giving you two thumbs up, “I’ll be sure to reserve table eight for you.” He paused looking away for a second, “I got no puns for that one. But I’ll be looking forward to it.” 

The second you stepped into the car, your friend bombarded you with questions, but one stood out more than the rest, “Why do you look so happy? I thought that guy stood you up?”

“Oh yeah, he absolutely did. But that might’ve been one of the best nights I’ve had.”

<<—>>—<<—>>

Navigation | Masterlist | Rules, Requests and DNI

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #nekoma x reader #fukunaga x reader #i write #i post #haikyuu fukunaga #fukunaga fluff #fukunaga shouhei #fukunaga shōhei

[headheartbellarke]

I Wish You Would | CHARLIE GILLESPIE

Requested by anon: “hello🌼 could u please write a charlie x reader imagine when he posts a picture on his instagram story with a girl to makes his crush jealous, but she end up distancing herself from him bc she's hurt and respect what she thinks is his relationship” PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem!reader WORDS: 2,445 WARNING(s): angst w a happy ending, some language SUMMARY: “I wish you knew that I'd never forget you as long as I'd live."

A/N: hi, everyone!! really, really sorry that this took so long. haven’t had the best march tbh, and writer’s block is a bitch. && this isn’t very good, either, but i had to get something done. love u <3

TEN HOURS EARLIER

“And… post!” Charlie taps his phone, grinning brightly.

Owen cheers from behind him, his voice meshing into the humdrum of the bar they’re currently at. “I’m so proud of you!”

His friend laughs, spinning around in the bar stool to face him. “She’ll finally understand what it feels like!”

Owen nods frantically, taking another sip of the drink in his hand.

Charlie copies his movement – a part of him knows that he is absolutely hammered, but the bigger part of him doesn’t care. He’s had a long day, and he deserves this.

Besides, how else would he and his best friend have thought of this wonderful plan if they didn’t have a billion drinks in their system?

PRESENT

A knock on the door pulls Y/N from her thoughts. “Come in!” She yells, but her voice comes out feeble and hoarse, probably from all the crying she’s been doing for the past hour.

As the door swings open, her best friend, Savannah, pokes her head in. “Hey, babe. You all right?”

Y/N sniffs. “M’fine.”

Savannah enters the room, closing the door softly behind her. She walks to the window, opening the curtains, and Y/N groans when light floods into the previously dark room.

She sits on the bed beside Y/N, and Y/N rests her head on her shoulder as she pulls the covers up to cover their bodies.

“I’m sure that they’re not dating.” Savannah says, wrapping an arm around her best friend.

Y/N chuckles sadly. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Sav. I mean, in the photo, he was kissing her cheek. Literally. And he put a heart between them.”

Savannah sighs. “That’s so not Charlie, you know… kissing random girls in bars and posting pictures with them.”

“Yeah, that’s so not Charlie, because she’s not a random girl. Her name’s Francesca and she went to high school with him, so, technically, she’s known him longer, and probably better than me.”

“I – I had no idea.”

“Yeah.”

“Y/N, babe, just tell him about how you feel. I’m sure that he likes you too.”

“If he liked me, then he wouldn’t be kissing Francesca!”

Y/N exhales, as Savannah gulps, not knowing what to respond. “Y/N, I – I swear, he’s crazy about you. I don’t know what happened between last Friday and today, but I swear – the Charlie that I know – has eyes for no one but you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, feeling a pang in her heart at Savannah’s words. “Savannah, we kissed and then he ghosted me for a day and now he’s posting pictures of him kissing another girl! I think he has eyes for everyone!”

Savannah bites her lower lip, not knowing what to respond, again. Her best friend feels tears prick at the back of her eyes when she says, “Maybe I’m a bad kisser.”

Savannah’s eyes widen, and she sits up, straight. “No. No. Babe, no. Don’t say that, ever. You’re a great kisser, okay! You’re an amazing kisser. Your lips are fine as hell, believe me. He’s the one with crusty ass lips. They’re not even lips, they look like… like… peanuts.”

Y/N stares at her best friend for a moment, before saying, “Peanuts, Sav? Really?”

“It’s the first thing that came into my mind!” She says defensively, before the girls break into a fit of laughter.

“I’m never talking to him again, ever.” Y/N says after they’ve calmed down. “I’m never even gonna look in his direction. Fucking asshole.”

*

Charlie sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. It’s eight in the morning, and he’s normally a morning person – he loves the mornings, the peace, the quiet, and the feeling that comes along with it more than anything, but right now, he just feels… sad.

On regular days, he would be talking to his best friend, Y/N, about everything that’s on his mind. But today’s different.

Last Friday, Y/N kissed him, and long story sort, it was the best thing that’s ever happened to him. After work that day, they went to get some food at a drive through, like they usually do. All throughout the ride, they made plans to go hiking once the production for season two finishes. She drove the car to a lookout, and oh, god, it was so pretty. The midnight sky was littered with stars, and since they were at the edge of town, there was less pollution, and they could see bits of the galaxy, too.

But, for some reason, the girl next to him seemed more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen, and after they finished eating, he just sat and stared at her talk about the last book that she’d read, for a while. He knows that it was terrible that he wasn’t listening – but how could he pay attention to anything when she looked like that, especially with passion illuminating her face like times square on New Year’s Eve?

She had looked at him as if he’d just grown a third head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Li – like what?” He’d asked, embarrassed to be blatantly caught.

“Like that…” She’d said and kissed him, and it felt like he was seeing colour for the first time. Although, the next day, everything turned to shit.

Now, it’s Monday, and she’s nowhere to be seen. He desperately wants to know if his and Owen’s plan actually worked (no reason that it wouldn’t), and he feels so impatient right now, and he misses her. Also, his massive hangover isn’t helping, either.

He hears his name being called, and sees Kenny smiling at him.

“Hey, so we’re gonna do a different scene today, since Y/N and Savannah are out, is that okay with you?”

His heart races. “What happened to them?”

“Y/N’s sick, and Savannah’s taking care of her.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s okay with me.” He says, feeling his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach.

*

“This is the last time I’m asking you this…” Y/N sings, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Put my name at the top of your list!” Savannah sings, using Y/N’s straightener as a mic.

“This is the last time I’m asking you why!” Madison joins.

“You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye!” Jadah sings, jumping on the bed.

As the second verse comes on, the girls sit on Y/N’s bed, huddled close to each other.

“You know, I’m feeling better now than I did when I woke up.” Y/N says, resting her chin on her knees.

“Taylor Swift can fix anything.” Madison says, leaning her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

She nods. “And y’all. Thanks for being here.”

Jadah grins, wrapping an arm around her. “We couldn’t let you have a pity party all alone!”

Savannah laughs. “I’m gonna kill him, I swear.”

“As relieving as that would be, don’t. I’ve decided what I should do.”

Madison quirks a brow. “You’re gonna kill him yourself?”

“Madi! No. I’m gonna distance myself.”

Savannah tilts her head. “I think that maybe you two should talk it out.”

“I don’t think so. I need space, time to figure it out. My head feels like a mess. And I respect him and Francesca, and I’m not gonna dip my toes between them.”

The other girls solemnly nod their head.

“You do realize that that’s not actually the saying?” Jadah says, after a while.

“Don’t embarrass me, kid.”

*

Charlie exhales, watching his breath crystallize to tiny ice particles in front of him. Even though, he’s a Canadian, he still feels cold. Although maybe it’s not due to the weather, but due to the coldness in Y/N’s eyes.

He watches her chat with Jeremy a few feet away, both of them discussing something that is out of bounds to him. He knows that it’s probably decisions regarding their characters, considering Y/N’s character is Jeremy’s character, Reggie’s love interest, but a part of him feels like it’s shit about him.

He has no reason to feel that way, of course. He hasn’t spoken to Y/N in four days, and this morning, when he saw her after for what feels to be eternity, he was blatantly ignored. He had only watched helplessly as Y/N exited the room the moment he entered and had sunk into his chair feeling like absolute shit, especially with everyone’s pitiful stares.

Charlie’s mind keeps replaying each moment, torturing over every tiny detail, wondering what he did wrong.

And that’s when it hits him: she really doesn’t want him anymore.

Last Saturday, he had hopelessly watched her with her long-term boyfriend of god-knows-how-long – he had come to surprise her on set, and it was Charlie that was more surprised. Because he thought that they were over, for good. And it wasn’t like they seemed like they weren’t dating. They were acting just like they used to when they were dating, and he was too close to her for his comfort. They still laughed the same, joked around the same, and were just as inseparable as they used to be.

A question kept rising in Charlie’s mind, like an icicle to his heart: why would she kiss him when she already had someone else? Why would she give him hope, and then take it all away? Why would she dangle his hurt in front of him?

So, he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, and posted a picture with Francesca, his high school friend, who he had run into that night.

Owen sinks into the chair beside Charlie. “You okay?”

“I’m starting to believe that our plan didn’t work.”

*

“Hey, uh, Y/N?”

The girl in question hears Charlie’s voice, and turns around, avoiding looking into his eyes.

“Can we talk?” He says, and for a moment, her defences are down again. He looks so… tired, almost like he’s going through the same things that she is. Almost like there’s an explanation as to why he broke her heart, why he ruined something that had the potential to be extraordinary, why he made her feel so bad about herself.

And she almost believes it, too. Like the fool she is.

She presses her lips into a thin line, and says, “Nothing to talk about.”

As Charlie opens his mouth to protest, she smiles and walks away.

*

“Okay, Charlie, you two need to talk it out. This is too much. Both of you are obviously hurting, and there’s obviously some serious miscommunication here.”

Charlie shakes his head at Savannah’s words. “She hates me.”

“No. She could never hate you.” She says, thrusting her phone in Charlie’s face. His eyes squint to read the text on the screen – from Y/N.

Sorry – forgot to leave a note. Drove down to Dad’s, gonna stay here for a while. It’s too painful – honestly, you know what? I’m still very, very, very mad at him. But I’m also missing him very, very, very much. So, I need to flush it out. Flush him out. He might be a jerk, but he’s still one of the best people that I’ve ever met. Love you, okay? Will return when the time is right.

Charlie’s eyes widen, and he stares at Savannah’s face for a while. “There – there is still hope!”

She nods frantically. “You should call her –”

“I’m gonna drive down to her dad’s house, too!”

“That works, too.”

*

A frantic knock on the front door pulls Y/N from her thoughts. She stops typing on her keyboard, and flips the lid shut, keeping it on the dining table in front of her.

She runs to her dad’s door, knowing that it’s him, back from his shopping. She opens the door, saying, “Let me take those for – Charlie?!”

Y/N’s heart swells at his sight as he grins sheepishly.

“So, there’s been some misunderstandings… can I come in?” He asks, and Y/N pauses, considering.

He sighs, and adds, “Please?”

She stares at him.

He juts his bottom lip out. “Pretty please?”

“Fine, come in.”

He closes the door behind him, wordlessly following Y/N, who feels like she might hurl right now. They sit on the couch, and it’s really, really awkward for a few seconds.

Y/N sighs. “You said you –”

“Yes. Yes, yeah. OK, so – I, uh, I –”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why would you do that to me? Do I really mean that little to you?”

“I could say the same about you!”

“Really?”

“Yes! I saw you with Shahid that day, I know that you two are back together –”

“Shahid?!”

“Yes!”

She stares at him, baffled.

“So…so… Francesca….”

“I only posted the picture to make you jealous! She asked me if I wanted to go out with her and the rest of my high school friends, and of course I went, and she saw that I was being a little… unsocial. So, I told her about how the girl that I’m completely crazy about has a boyfriend! And a long term one at that, too! And then Owen came up with a brilliant plan, and I guess you know what it was. Now, I’m realizing that it might not have worked.”

She stares at him for a moment, before she bursts out laughing. Charlie throws her a confused look.

“You – you thought that Shahid – Shahid, my best friend since we were in nappies, Shahid who is married to this amazing man, and at whose wedding I was the maid of honour – you thought that I was dating him?”

“He’s gay?!”

“Bisexual. Oh my god, I have to tell him. This is hilarious.”

Charlie bites the corner of his lower lip, feeling his cheeks heat up. “This is really embarrassing. But you two act like you’re dating!”

“No, we don’t. You’re just being insecure and jealous. I’ve known him forever, and yes, I am the most comfortable around him. Because he’s my family. He’s my brother. Oh, god, I can’t believe that you were jealous of him – wait, have you thought that we were dating this whole time?”

“Kind of. I thought you guys broke up when he didn’t visit you on set during the first two months of production.”

“He was helping feed kids in Somali.”

“Oh. Oh. God, I feel so –”

“Dumb? That’s because you are.”

He grins sheepishly, his cheeks crimson.

Y/N smiles. “But I forgive you. And I wouldn’t mind if you took me on a proper date this time.”

“Deal. Also, promise that we’ll always talk it out before… you know… doing anything?”

She laughs, and nods. He wraps his pinkie finger around hers.

“Well, Owen’s plan did kind of work, though.”

#charlie gillespie #julie and the phantoms #jatp #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x fem!reader #charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie jatp #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #charlie gillespie + reader #charlie gillespie + y/n #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #charlie gillespie oneshot #savannah lee may #jeremy shada #madison reyes #owen joyner #owen patrick joyner #jadah marie #carolynn rowland

[shadowedvales]

So… in the additional media of Stranger Things (specifically the comics I’m mentioning), it was initially Brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as Eleven was. It was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. And I just…. sure Henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but I think I am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

I genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and Brenner is far more intriguing than the show. Everything with 9/9.5, Ricky, and Francine. Eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. Those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. Eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. And they all had such a range of interesting powers. I firmly stand with the idea that Jane is the only one who can contact The Void.

Brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out Terry was pregnant. He discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. There would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. Because of this, I would not put it past a man like Brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” aka Eleven. Eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. Brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

Back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because Jane was 011. So there were at least ten kids before her. But I always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. That they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. With flying colours.

I just think the whole Rainbow Room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. Boring and predictable. I think at this point my portrayal of her time in Hawkins Lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. Where having the Rainbow Room, although Eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. Albeit extremely warped and toxic. Knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. Doesn’t sit well with me. I think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. Which is why Kali is also so important to her growth. I thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. Although Peter becoming Vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

Maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, Peter Ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. But before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. Peter is shot on the spot, and Eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. In this timeline, Henry would be Vecna, but Henry would not be Peter Ballad.

When Eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, Brenner had the eight children killed. Kali had already escaped. This was the main cause for Peter to gain Eleven’s trust and try to get her out. Because if Brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way Eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

When Eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with Peter. Brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a Peter, that she must have been dreaming. Eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given Peter told her of the day Terry broke in the lab, but Brenner is convincing enough to make Eleven believe it was all in her head. Say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

I still do wanna keep the Henry Creel canon, and keep him as 001. Brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. Brenner definitely wants to be able to control Henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. Killing him would be too big of a loss.

When Eleven is ten years old, Henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto Hawkins Lab. He almost kills Brenner by snapping his bones, but Eleven manages to stop him. Her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends Henry to the Upside Down. She does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. Brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat Henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. Eleven is rewarded for her efforts. Although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

Brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. Also loved the idea of Brenner sending her into The Void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

By the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the Upside Down is basically what we see in canon. Because she passed out the moment after she sent Henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. For two years she believed this, until making contact with the Demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

Due to her saving Brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. She happened to be there. Saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) Brenner constantly thanks her. But in a very condescending way. Tells her: “you saved me so I can continue saving you.” Aka, harness your abilities and see what else I can achieve from you. Despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. That she owes him something further.

I don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. Her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. Surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. Her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with Henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. It makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

It also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. They would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. As far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. Everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with Benny, I'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. Where she followed the boys home without thought.

Also it's important to note that after time, Jane does understand that Peter Ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from Terry) who wanted the best for her. When she remembers him, knows that Brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. He was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. This is another catalyst as to why after season two, Jane never refers to Brenner as papa. She does not give him that sort of credit.

#study. #although henry offering eleven a place at his side wouldn’t be canon #he would definitely still look at her as an enemy for basically stopping his revenge. #AND the whole speech between he and jane never sat right with me. #saying brenner made him what he was / that it wasnt his fault etc. Like. No? henry was a sociopath. he killed his family. #brenner didn’t do anything to make him who he is. so jane always saw him for exactly what he was #and there’s absolutely no sympathy there. #and then regarding my season four canon as her regaining her powers by remembering the massacre/the fight. i am changing that to her #regaining her powers by simply confronting her past. understanding what she went through. finding ways to cope with it physically and #mentally. getting coping mechanisms from her therapist. seeking help. not needing to know WHY this happened to her (because there is not. #and will never be a reason.) but finding ways to accept it and move on. how to move on from eleven and become janessa ives. #also just because in this case henry doesn’t massacre a bunch of kids? It doesn’t make him any less evil. in this instance i am following #the idea that some of the workers were prisoners there in hawkins lab. and henry killed a bunch of the workers. so would definitely have #killed some innocent people. #just because i am separating peter from henry. does NOT mean i am excusing anything from henry/vecna. #in this case they are two completely different people. although i highkey wanna use jcb as peter because he just did the role SO WELL and #was SO BELIEVABLE i’m not sure about it yet. because i don’t want anyone to get the impression that i’m making excuses for henry. #BUT YES. #this be the new canon. <3 #idc brenner is such a good fuckin villain he’s disgusting but so intriguing.

[bangtaninink]

double prompt: “you said there’d be cake. where’s the cake?” + “make me.” + jimin + any au!

DRABBLE NUMBER......... 016 MEMBER............................ park jimin (jimin) AU......................................... sugar daddy

a small bell rings above your head when you walk into the café, which is the first and last bit of normalcy you're going to experience for the rest of the day. the café is almost eerily quiet; there aren't many customers in the vast array of leather seats on the floor, and for the few that are, they sit alone with a newspaper, tablet, or book keeping them company.

it's not hard for you to spot jimin. like always, he's chosen a table close to the corner, but not too far from a window.

"can i help you, miss?" a waiter asks; you don't miss the way she gives you a once-over, the corners of her lips twitching, the question snide and condescending. you're well aware that your messy bun, flannel shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers stick out like a sore thumb in this café, sitting right in the heart of gangnam of all places, but you barely bat an eyelash at the waiter, already used to this.

"no, i'm good; i'm just meeting up wi--"

"_____."

you don't even get to finish your sentence when jimin calls out your name. you marvel, however, at the way the waiter's expression falls in an instant when it dawns on her that you're here for their wealthiest patron, that it's him calling for you, and not the other way around.

"coming," you call out, smiling sweetly at the waiter as you walk past her, leaving her at the front of the café, lips parted in shock, cheeks colouring with embarrassment.

jimin stands when you walk over to his table, smiling, arms outstretched to pull you into his embrace and press a soft kiss to your lips.

"hi," he says.

"hey," you reply, chuckling and sitting down in the seat across from him.

"i'm surprised you said yes to coming out today."

you shrug, saying, "you said there'd be cake. where's the cake?"

jimin rolls his eyes but chuckles, calling for one of the waiters; much to your delight, it's the same waiter from before, clutching a notepad close to her chest.

"how can i help you, sir?" she asks, avoiding meeting your gaze.

"a slice of the red velvet cake, please," jimin says. "and... drink, _____?"

"peppermint tea sounds good," you reply.

"a peppermint tea. that's all, thank you."

the waiter turns to leave, and you flash her a wide smile when she inevitably looks at you, holding back laughter when she lowers head and quickly walks off.

"what was that all about?" jimin asks, eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"hmm? oh, nothing." he waits for you to continue, unconvinced. "okay, fine. she gave me... 'the look' earlier when i came in. no big deal. i was just doing that 'kill them with kindness' thing you told me to do."

jimin puts his cup down, looking calm as ever, but you can see the way he clenches his other hand into a fist, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs.

"she gave you 'the look'?" he repeats, fixing the pleat of his slacks. you laugh softly and shake your head.

"chill."

"no one's allowed to give you any kind of look."

"except you, i assume."

that seems to appease jimin, if the way he settles back into his seat is anything to go by, the corners of his lips turning up slightly.

"except me," he repeats with a soft hum. "how was class?"

"boring," you reply, groaning and thanking the waiter - a different waiter, you both notice - when he sets down your cake and tea. "i'm almost tempted to switch my major entirely."

"i thought speech pathology was, and i quote, 'your calling in life'."

"yeah, well, i'm starting to think twice about that because my professor's a dick."

"one professor shouldn't discourage you from pursuing your greatest passion."

"but it does when it's a mandatory class." you sigh, picking up a bite of cake. "i swear he has it out for everyone. he might be an expert in the field, but the man really needs to work on his people skills. maybe i should switch to business."

"oh, honey, you wouldn't survive business," jimin coos, reaching over to place his hand on yours.

"shut up."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"thank you," jimin says, taking back his card, slipping his wallet back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket before taking your hand, leading you out of the café.

"aww, i didn't get to say goodbye to my friend," you say, holding back a grin. you end up laughing anyway when jimin flashes you a look the minute he understands who you're referring to.

"you know, i was gonna say we should go shopping and kill some time before dinner, but i think i'll cancel our reservation and drop you off at your place so you can study."

"tch. make me." you stick out your tongue, scrunching up your nose. "it's friday. you don't study after your last class on a friday. how long has it been since you went to college, old man? surely you're still aware of the unspoken rules of college."

"who're you calling 'old man', grandma?"

"'grandma'?!"

"mhm, i can see a few wrinkles starting to form at the corners of your eyes there."

"wow."

you pull a face, letting go of jimin's hand to walk ahead, ignoring his high-pitched, almost childlike laughter, and the frantic steps that take him back to your side.

"okay, okay. i'm sorry. i was just kidding!" he says, his arms wrapping around your waist and pinning your arms down to your sides as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, where you can feel his smile against your skin. "there are no wrinkles to be seen, i swear to you."

huffing, you turn away from him when he lifts his head up to look at you. with a hum, he dips his head to press kisses all over your neck, chuckling softly when you flinch as his lips graze over the spot he knows you're most ticklish at, loosening his hold on you when you smack his arm.

"you're one to talk about wrinkles at the corner of your eyes," you say, eyes narrowed.

"mmm, but i only have wrinkles there because i'm so busy smiling at you all the time," jimin replies, nosing at your cheek.

"tch. you tell all your girls that?"

"there are no other girls, babe. there's no one else i'd spend eight and a half million Won on a new chanel bag for than you."

"wait. i don't have a chanel bag though," you say, eyebrows furrowed.

"yes you do."

"no, i don't."

"yes," jimin says, chuckling and nodding to the driver to open the car door for you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "you do."

you watch the driver bow his head in greeting before opening the car door, eyes growing wide at the sight of the matte black box, tied with a thick white ribbon, waiting for you on the leather-lined seat.

#park jimin #jimin #bts #bangtan #bts scenarios #bts drabble #sugar daddy!au #have i never written sugar daddy!jimin before??? #also this did NOT end up being drabble length oops

[starkeristheendgame]

Hunter!Tony x Demon!Peter AU

Hunter!Tony binds Demon!Peter to himself in order to find the monster that murdered his late fiancée. Lead down roads he’d never imagined himself taking, Tony discovers that maybe revenge isn’t the only thing he’s hungry for.

TW/Tags: Supernatural AU | Enemies to something | Hurt/Comfort | Angst | Injury | Blood | Near-death experience | First kiss

“Is being a pervert part of the hiring process or are you just getting your money’s worth?”

Tony couldn’t see it, but he knew regardless that those plush lips would be pushed into a pout and those arched brows would be furrowed into a petulant scowl.

“If you’ve got me running around like your little errand boy, the least you could do is be nice to me,” a high, sweet voice simpered back. The face that belonged to it was just as youthful when it appeared in the mirror over his shoulder, watching him button his shirt with vested interest.

Tony didn’t deign to dignify it with a reply, staring down the pretty little monster until it let out a sigh.

“Fine. I have your lead. Arkansas, a seedy little dive known as the Dog Den.”

Something hot and rabid twisted in his gut and he had to pause his motions, hands trembling almost imperceptibly. It felt a lot like rage and a little bit like hope.

“Are you sure?”

Eyes the colour of fresh honey rolled so hard he could almost hear the muscles stretching. “No. I asked a magic eight-ball.”

He twisted with a snarl, reaching out. The ring on his finger pulsed with a molten orange glow and between slender wrists a chain that shimmered transparently flared to life, forming a delicate set of shackles no wider than if he’d wound a necklace there.

He curled a finger in the glowing links, dragging the Demon close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in those dark eyes. 

“I’m sure,” it repeated, softer, quieter, holding his gaze with wariness, but not fear.

He let the chain drop after a moment, grunting as he turned around and finished buttoning up his shirt. When he twisted to reach for the jacket the lithe figure was sprawled out on his bed, artfully arranged as the Demon flipped through a magazine Tony knew hadn’t been in his own bags.

“You know,” the Demon piped up again as he tucked in his shirt, “maybe if you smiled a little more, the ugly things in the dark wouldn’t try to kill you as much.”

“Shut up.”

“Not possible.”

“I’ll make it possible.”

“Oh, you always promise me a good time and never deliver.”

Despite himself, Tony found he had to wrestle fiercely with a smile. “Peter.”

That heady, dangerous gaze pinned itself to him again. He met it evenly, ignoring the thrum of his pulse. The Demon really couldn’t have picked a prettier vessel to take over, a smudge of parasitic darkness inside the prettiest packaging.

That pink little mouth opened like it was considering another witty retort, then closed. Instead the Demon - Peter, merely hummed and went back to flicking through his magazine, disinterestedly glossing over half-naked women and gossip scandals.

It was almost disconcerting. To look at the pretty little slip of a thing sprawled out on his bed like some rented whore and to know that behind that pretty face was a being of Hell’s creation. Something twisted and dark, a corrupted soul festering behind a distracting smokescreen.

Peter Parker was the sort of face Tony would’ve fallen for like a rock, if he hadn’t been the one to summon the Demon to the surface.

Perhaps that’s why the Demon had chosen such a nice outfit. A desperate bid not to get ganked the moment he crawled out of Hell.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Peter sighed, turning a page idly. He’d rolled over onto his stomach now, jaw propped in his palm. 

“You can’t read minds. Don’t get comfortable, we’re leaving soon,” he grunted in reply, shrugging on a jacket.

“Can’t I just meet you there?” the Demon whined, looking up with (literally) sinful puppy eyes.

“No.”

He left it at that, flat and unforgiving, as he had to be. In another life he’d have fallen for that soft whine and that pleading look. Might’ve taken his shirt right off and crawled onto the bed, put that open mouth to good use.

But this was not that life, and that pretty face was stolen.

He checked all his things then reached out, plucking the gossip rag from Peter’s hands and throwing it in the trash. “Meet me at the car.”

“I was reading that,” Peter huffed indignantly, glowering up at him before he disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a dip in the bedspread and the scent of copper.

He was sprawled in the backseat when Tony made his out to the 1970 Challenger he called his own, a set of stylish shades covering his eyes, fluffy hair unkempt and arms folded behind his head.

“Feet off the upholstery,” he huffed as he turned the key, swinging the car out of the parking lot and onto the road with a loud rumble of the engine.

“I know for a fact you sleep in this car and my shoes are clean,” Peter answered primly, angling his head towards the open window and the warmth of the morning sun.

Arkansas was a three day drive. They spent the first in almost complete silence, although the Demon did sulk when they stopped for gas and Tony declined to buy him anything. Rather than waste money on another motel he pulled onto a quiet patch of land behind a thicket of trees, settling across the bench seat with a sigh.

“Fuck off and come back in the morning.”

“Eloquent as ever,” Peter griped, leaning over the seat, arms folded and chin atop them. He looked laughably angelic in the darkness, all soft edges, voice quiet enough that a mouse wouldn’t flee it.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, and when Tony cracked open an eye to repeat his command, he was gone.

Gone, until he thumped his fist on the window at the ass-crack of dawn, looking chipper and cheerful, Starbucks cup in hand. “Up and at ‘em, sunshine! The monsters aren’t gonna hunt themselves!”

Tony considered stabbing him there and then, but Peter was unfortunately an asset he couldn’t afford to lose. Invaluable, as much as it stroked the Demon’s ego. He settled for glaring, baring past the Demon as he stomped off to relieve himself. 

The next two nights went much the same, although Peter got chattier the more bored he became. Fiddled with the radio, disappeared for moments only to return holding an ‘interesting’ leaf or rock, scooped up from the side of the road Tony had just driven past.

Arkansas was crisp and bright and dewy in the mid-weeks of spring. It was so different from the New York of his youth, with it’s towering glass jungle and concrete pillars. It was a visceral reaction to think of the scent of flowers and clean air in Sicily, of pink lipstick smudged on his jaw, a laugh fading slowly, overtaken by the rumble of the engine.

Countryside became a smattering of industrialisation, bars and houses, garages and stores. He wanted to keep on going, chase that tail until he caught it and tore it off, but he knew better than to rush in half-blind.

He had to eat something proper. Had to rest. Had to learn everything he could from the paltry little stack of papers that Peter had given him, printed out at a library miles and miles back in the time it had taken Tony to piss and buy a bottle of water at a gas station.

Food, first. 

The diner was like every other. Gaudy and cheap with food that was more grease than nutrition. Peter’s nose scrunched the moment they entered and he looked nonplussed when they were guided to a booth.

The Demon made a big show of pulling out a pack of wipes from the pocket of his fitted jacket, scrubbing the table as the waitress listed off the day’s specials. Tony rolled his eyes before ordering coffee and a slap-up breakfast, about to dismiss the waitress when Peter cut in with a saccharine smile. 

“Bacon too, please. Crispy. And a milkshake. Thanks a bunch, darling.”

She arched her brows but made no comment, glancing at Tony before leaving. Then it was Tony’s turn to stare and quirk his brow, watching the Demon shrug lightly. 

“What? I get cravings.”

Peter fiddled with a napkin as they waited, as Tony read through the sheets of paper. Folding it over and over into a little crane that he perched atop the salt shaker. 

“Where did you even learn origami?” Tony grunted, watching it sway before it stabilised. Peter’s gaze flicked up to him and there was something unexpected there. A hollowness, heavily guarded but flickering in the gold of his irises even so. 

“Even the worst of the worst need hobbies, hunter,” he uttered softly, and then their food arrived and they were lost to the silence that overcame those sating their hunger. Peter ate with an almost childlike manner, easily distracted, toying with his straw before each sip. He even swung his legs a little and drummed his fingertips on the table top.

The perfect performance.

He looked away.

Peter was unusually quiet after that, subdued as they made their way to a motel relatively close to the Dog Den. He didn’t even pester the receptionist or try to embarrass Tony by pretending to be some sort of rent boy as he purchased a key, eyeing the Demon consideringly.

When Tony slipped beneath the sheets Peter disappeared without argument, offering only a mock salute before he flickered and was gone, leaving nothing but a wisp of dark smoke.

He wondered where the Demon went. Back to Hell? Some run-down library to read through the night? An empty motel room to pilfer their cable connection?

The disconcertion over Peter’s silence left him the next day, when he commanded Peter to steer clear as he got dressed to hit their lead.

“You can’t go alone,” Peter announced, frowning.

“I can and I am. You’ll just attract attention,” Tony pointed out, shrugging on another flannel and tucking the flask of holy water against his belt.

“And if you die?” Peter shot back. It surprised his brows into lifting as he met the Demon’s gaze, tipping his head.

“Then you’ll be free of your bindings and there’ll be one less hunter ganking your friends. What’s the problem?”

Peter’s mouth opened, then closed, as if he was only suddenly remembering that he wasn’t in this little dynamic duo willingly.

“I get the Challenger if you die,” the Demon said instead, turning away from.

And maybe Tony should’ve thought more about that demand, because the only thing he could think of as he lay bleeding in the middle of the woods several long hours later was that Peter would most definitely get the car all scratched up and dirty.

Demons had no respect for vehicle maintenance. 

He coughed wetly and grunted, pressing a hand to his bleeding chest. They wouldn’t, he supposed. Demons could just fly everywhere.

Peter had adamantly argued it was not teleportation.

He breathed out a sigh and shifted fumbling for his wallet. His fingers smeared blood against the white edges of the crumpled photograph in there and he stared at his wife’s smile, frozen in time and taken just days before a Demon on a murder kick had burnt her soul up from within her, along with their unborn daughter.

“I’d say see you soon, but. W’both know m’goin’ to Hell, not where you are,” he told her image softly, giving it a weary, slow smile.

“Hell would ask for a refund,” came a familiar voice, and moments later there were warm hands on his jaw, tilting his head up. “You stupid bastard. I told you not to go alone. I could feel there was someone stronger in this town!”

Peter’s eyes were wide and round, plump lower lip between his teeth as he dropped his gaze, eyeing where Tony was slowly leaking his insides all over his outsides. “Shit,” the Demon breathed softly.

Tony made an agreeable sound. Shit was about right. He’d run head first into the messy, gruesome end that almost every hunter found themselves at. The end of the road; the final curtain; bleeding out somewhere at the hands of something twisted and ugly and evil.

“Guess you get th’car,” he rasped, aiming for humorous. It fell short when he blanched and more hot fluid slid down his throat and his chest, pooling at his navel. 

“Shut up,” Peter growled at him, letting go of his head to pull up his shirt. His fingertips were light, but it still felt like fire. Hot and licking over everything he touched. “God, you’re so fucking stupid. I told you to take me. I told you I should go.”

“C’n you save th’gloatin’ ‘till I’m dead?” he asked, frowning. Most hunters probably didn’t get this much conversation on their deathbeds.

Peter shot him a positively scathing look, pressing down hard on the wound. It made agony flare up his torso, smothering his pathetic yell of pain into a weak, thready rasp.

“This is gonna hurt us both,” the Demon muttered, looking inexplicably angry as he settled his palms flat atop the worst of the wound. A muted sound was all Tony could manage, watching the Demon with hazy confusion.

For a moment, nothing happened. 

Or at least, Tony didn’t notice it happening. 

But then a strange, new type of pain began to lance through him, battling against the numbing burn of his torn organs. It crept through his veins and branched out, a tingling, almost electric sensation that had him tensing as best as his broken body would let him.

He opened his mouth and if he’d had the energy left for it he’d have reeled in surprise when Peter leaned forwards, slotting their mouths together firmly.

The Demon’s lips were soft and plush, with the faintest trace of soda. His lips were warm, too, just a breath above what would be normal for a person. 

Tony almost didn’t know what he should be recoiling at the most; kissing a Demon, or kissing what was for all intents and purposes a sixteen year old.

Peter didn’t try to do anything else and Tony realised in the timeframe that he’d been internally broiling over the situation, breathing had become easier.

The fire was dulling to a simmer; a slow ember that still ached but no longer made him feel like he had one foot in the gates of Hell. His breath hitched and Peter pulled back slowly, keeling to one side slightly and almost falling over as he drew away.

His eyes were pools of inkblack, shiny and void as the Demon sucked in his own rattled breath, pulling shaking hands away from Tony’s torso.

He let his gaze fall slowly to his chest. He was still covered in blood, but the flesh there looked smooth and unmarred. Where he was once carved open like a pot hole there was once again closed off muscle and flesh.

He looked up in surprise. Peter was on his knees, hands braced on his thighs as he rode out the strain of wrangling his leashed powers. His eyes were slowly returning to the human hue, red-rimmed as if he’d been crying, plump lips downturned.

Tony licked his own, jerked straight back into the sensation of Peter’s mouth on his.

“Why?” he demanded roughly, bringing a hand to subconsciously touch his chest.

Peter shot him a sidelong look, the effect slightly dampened by the way he looked vaguely sick.

“A thank you might be nice,” the Demon sneered at him, huffing a twisted curl from his eyes as Tony pushed himself to his feet, ungainly and uncoordinated. Bracing himself on a tree, Tony stared down at the Demon.

At Peter, who’d saved his life. Against all he stood to benefit from Tony’s death, against all that he’d done his best to kill him when he first discovered he’d been shackled to Tony. 

Coughing, Tony did his best to pull his shredded shirt closed before he made a rough gesture. “Get up. You’ll have to take us back to the motel. My car’s still at the bar.” Smashed up or stolen, he realised with a pang of sadness and anger.

“Oh no, lover-boy. You’ve been keeping me at half-mast all year. One night of fun has done me in for the night. I’m limp - get your own ride into town.”

Tony glowered, but all his frowning and snapping proved fruitless. Peter’s powers had been bound tight for almost a year and he really was burnt out, looking every inch as young as his vessel as he wobbled to his feet. The most he managed them was a few meters down the road when he tried.

It took them until sunrise to come close enough to the town that Tony could hotwire a car from the side of the road, ditching it a reasonable way from the motel and wiping it down with a clean patch of his shirt to get rid of his fingerprints.

He wasn’t bothered about Peter’s. Peter had mentioned having this particular vessel for over fifty years - his prints would be written off as a glitch on the system.

He went straight for the shower, scrubbing his skin pink as he tried to sleuth off the memory of being cut open, of dying alone in the dark and the cold, certain that this was his one-way ticket downstairs.

Brushed his teeth; trying to rid himself of the guilt that came with realising that the kiss had been pleasant, to a degree. Soft, pink skin, the sweetness of a soda consumed while Tony had been-

He shut off the water.

When he stepped out, Peter was actually curled up in the bed, looking almost infantile with the covers pulled up to his jaw. He seemed only half-awake, barely stirring when Tony entered the room. He was pulling on a new shirt when Peter spoke, voice sleepy and quiet.

“My Uncle taught me.”

Tony paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Origami,” Peter clarified softly. “You asked me. At the diner. Where I’d learned origami. My Uncle taught me when I was thirteen.”

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, Tony took a light seat on the edge of the bed, each of them facing a separate wall. He was quiet for a little while, digesting the information.

“Thank you for saving me,” he grunted after a moment, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the words. It wasn’t anything he’d ever thought he’d say to a Demon. Peter had gotten him out of scrapes and healed up wounds before, but always under command and never anything so serious.

Desperate to rein back some control, he slid under the sheets and stared up at the ceiling. “If you ever kiss me again, I’ll use thread soaked in holy water and sew your mouth shut.”

Irritatingly, Peter snorted. “That was hardly a kiss.”

“You’re in a snot-nosed brat’s body, what would you know about kissing?” Tony shot back, brows pinching into a frown.

“This,” Peter huffed at him, rolling over and on top of him.

Tony blamed the fact that he didn’t pull away on simply being too tired to.

#fanfic #fanfiction #starker #fic #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fic #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #demon au #au #supernatural au #sfw #demon!peter #demon!peter aprker #hunter!tony #hunter!tony stark #demon/hunter au #hunter/demon au #getting together #angst #hurt/comfort #injury #blood tw #injury tw

[junicai]

lights out.

| summary | In New York, the City that Never Sleeps, Aria can’t sleep. So, her roommate comes up with a skeptical idea, and ropes Mark into it as well. 

| word count | 3.7k

| warnings | one (1) curse word

| era | circa. April 2019

92. "Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English."

New York City.

Forever illuminated in light, forever alive and bustling down below the skyrises that towered above the people that wandered through the streets no matter what time was displayed on the clocks. The city was teeming with energy, bubbling beneath the surface as it waited for a chance to explode.

Traffic backlogged street to street, wandering souls pattering around the block in search of nothing, aimlessly strolling past the busy business-goers, those that carried briefcases with carefully filed notes and papers, and those that had dragged themselves out of their beds for the graveyard shift in the neon-lighted coffeehouse.

24-hour Coffee! The best coffee you’ll find in the Big Apple!

The noise outside the window was muffled through the thick glass but the busy sounds of the city still filtered through, gently falling in to the otherwise silent hotel room.

Aria rolled over onto her side, pressing her head into the soft pillow. The red LED lights of the alarm clock sitting on the locker beside her bed was boring the colour into her retinas, and no good could come from simply watching the minutes tick by.

The blankets were soft, if not a little cold on her skin, and she pulled her legs into her chest to rub at the exposed skin lightly. Donghyuck had insisted on leaving the air conditioning on as they slept, the boy living up to his name Fullsun as he ran hot near-constantly, but that left Aria to shiver slightly despite the mountain of blankets she had buried herself beneath. 

Rolling back over to the cool side of the pillowcase, Aria let her eyes fall on Donghyuck’s back. 

The boy wasn’t asleep - she could hear the low sounds coming from the airpods in his ears as he watched something on his phone - but he looked comfortable enough that she was reluctant to disturb him.

It had been a long day, and tomorrow was their only real designated day in this area before they were scheduled to be flown out to their next concert.

Aria loved touring, but it was hard to keep going sometimes. She assumed that Donghyuck thought the same, and that’s why instead of insisting that the pair of them watched something on his laptop, or played a game, he was letting her sleep in peace.

He had watched Aria push herself past what they both had thought her limits had been that day - watched as she stumbled through the final songs of their set with blurry eyes and a shaking frame. He’d moved to wrap an arm around her waist as soon as they had broken formation, and she’d given him a shaky smile for his efforts. 

Donghyuck had guided a rapidly blinking Aria through their ending ments and off the stage, catching her as she slipped down the last two steps. He’d practically carried her into the car, waving off an insisting Yuta, who was adamant that he could help despite still favoring the ankle he had rolled two nights ago. 

They were all running a little worse-for-wear, but, by god the crowds made up for it. 

He had known that NCT 127 had an international fanbase, had known that they were popular overseas for years. But there was nothing like seeing a crowd of five thousand, even eight thousand people from a country that didn’t speak their language, singing their songs and screaming their fanchants at the top of their lungs.

It settled into his bones, pushed him past his old boundaries to create new ones, made him want to keep going and keep singing, keep dancing, keep performing until his knees went from beneath him and he fell to the ground with a thud.

Donghyuck knew Aria felt the same, and that’s why he took it upon himself to pull her away when she needed him to.

 Despite their broadly opposite personalities - truly the sun and the moon when it came down to it - they were similar in so many ways. Scarily so.

Scary, in so far as the fact that Donghyuck knew when Aria couldn’t take it anymore, knew when she was stumbling and falling not because she was tired but because she’d hurt her back again and was unwilling to talk about it. Scary, in the fact that he knew when she wasn’t telling them something, choosing to bite her lip instead of letting whatever worry that was bouncing around in her head fall onto their shoulders to help carry the weight. 

Donghyuck wanted to help her carry those things. Even if that meant carrying her as well. 

The two of them had slipped into the hotel room at nine minutes past ten, showering briefly in the small bathroom they had adjoined to the left wall and slid into the two beds with a quiet goodnight. It had been silent since Aria had leant down to turn off the centre light, only the light peeking through the curtains from the street and the light of Donghyuck’s phone screen to illuminate the dark room left.

He had thought she had fallen asleep soon after - given the bleary squinted look she had given him in the van home as she told her to not fall asleep just yet, that they’d be home soon and then she could sleep - so you could imagine his surprise as he flipped over in the bed, letting the phone fall face down and was met with the image of Aria starfished over her single bed, staring open-eyed at the ceiling.

“Ari?” Donghyuck cleared his throat. “Ari? Why’re you awake still?”

Aria’s head flopped to the side to look at Donghyuck in the opposite bed, blinking once at him before closing her eyes and groaning. “Can’t sleep.”

He hummed, lifting up the corner of his blanket with a hand as the other pushed his phone onto the bedside locker to make sure it didn’t fall off the bed. 

Without a word, Aria slid out from underneath her own blankets - pulling one from the top layer - and padded across the room to slide into Donghyuck’s embrace, fluffing the extra blanket on top of them both. 

Donghyuck sniffed a laugh at her, but said nothing as he dropped his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him and snuggled his head into where her shoulder meets her neck.

Aria giggled lightly at his hair tickling her skin, moving her head away from the strands until the hand around her waist squeezed once. 

“It tickles,” She whispered.

“But m’comfy like this,” He responded, shoving his head further in if possible and throwing a leg over hers. 

“Just-” Aria moved some of his hair away from her face. “Better.”

“Better?”

“Its not in my face anymore.”

Donghyuck lifted his head from her shoulder to peer up at her face. “Why couldn’t you sleep? You were sleepy in the van.”

Aria huffed. “No I wasn’t.”

“You hit your head against the window when you dozed off.”

“I-”

“Twice.”

She sighed through her nose. “If it bruises I’m going to be upset. My face is my only selling point right now.”

A silence permeated the room, and Donghyuck sat up. 

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked again.

Aria flipped to lay on her stomach, shoving her head into the pillow. “I dunno. Think I have some excess energy to burn off or something.”

“You were literally dead on your feet three hours ago,” Donghyuck said. 

“I know that. I just, feel like I need to go on a walk or something. Just to move or do something that isn’t lying in a bed in the middle of New York.” Aria muffled out into the fabric, kicking her legs slightly. 

Donghyuck caught a wayward ankle before it could hit him in the face. “Hey, kicking your best friend was not on that list!”

“It could be.”

Scowling, he fell back beside her, scooching closer. The pair laid together for a moment, listening to the sound of traffic from outside. 

“You want to go for a walk?” Donghyuck was the one to break the silence, looking down at Aria.

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s go.”

Aria lifted her head to blink up at him. “It’s like,” she broke off to turn her head towards the clock, blinking rapidly to bring the LED numbers into view, “Half one in the morning, I don’t think the hotel gym is open.”

“I don’t mean the gym. I mean out there.” Donghyuck pointed to the window. 

This time it was Aria who sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “Hyuck, what?”

“You want to go for a walk? Let’s go for a walk. Who’s gonna stop us?”

“Our managers? The fact that its nearly two in the morning? The fact that Taeyong will kill us?” She said, bewildered. 

Donghyuck sat up to face her properly. “They won’t know! We could be quick - promise. You can’t tell me you don’t want to see the city properly.”

Aria spluttered. “We have seen the city! We took that bus tour around when we first arrived!” 

He scoffed. “I meant properly, Ari. Like a local. How the city is meant to be.”

“We could get murdered.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let that happen.”

Aria swallowed. “What happens if we get caught on the way out?”

“Simple: Lie.” Donghyuck leant back on his hands like this wasn’t the worst plan he had ever come up with in his nineteen years of life. 

It wasn’t often that Aria went along with his ideas - nine times out of ten, she was usually the one talking him out of them. It was only when she’d run out of patience, or the will to give the effort to barter logic out with him that she’d give in. Or in cases like this. 

“Fine.” 

Donghyuck let out a whoop, reaching over to the locker to snag his phone off the top of it and flicking the screen unlocked. Aria in turn proceeded to roll off the bed and onto the carpet, looking for the pair of leggings she had worn through the airport to cover her legs so she didn’t go wandering around the city in a pair of sleep shorts. 

Finding the black coloured material hanging on the back of the chair, she could hear Donghyuck texting someone behind her. 

“Who’s that?” She asked, not bothering to turn around as she moved into the bathroom and partially shut the door to allow her both privacy and the ability to continue her conversation with him. 

“Mark - Thought we should tell someone where we’re gone, right?”

Aria stopped. “Does he want to come?” 

“Given the angry texts I’ve just received about quote, missing out on stuff like this now that he’s not in Dream: I’d say a solid yes.”

Aria nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see her. “Is Jungwoo coming as well then?” 

Mark was rooming with Jungwoo this time around, the members alternating on a rotational basis.

Donghyuck shook his head. “No, he says that Jungwoo is too tired. He’ll keep a lookout for Taeyong for us though, which is good.”

“Huh, that’s nice of him.” Aria re-emerged from the bathroom, leggings pulled up over her hips and a large hoodie swamping her frame. With her thin wire glasses, she looked cosy and extremely comfortable. 

Donghyuck himself was still wearing a pair of sweatpants, and pulled one of his hoodies on over his t-shirt before rummaging in the pile of shoes to find something comfortable. 

Without looking back, he tossed out Aria’s runners, who caught them with a thanks before sitting down on the ground to do up the laces. 

He succeeded in finding his own pair of shoes, pulling them in just before two light knocks sounded against their door. Aria pulled it open to reveal a bleary-eyed but excited Mark, a padded jacket pulled over his jumper.

"You are insane." Was the first thing out of his mouth.

"You're welcome to leave?" Sniffed Aria.

Mark frowned. "I never said I wasn't."

Opening the door wider, she revealed Donghyuck who had just stood up from the edge of the bed, brushing down his pants. He looked up to meet Mark's eyes and grinned.

"Let's go!" He cheered, moving to walk out into the hallway but being stopped by Aria catching the neck of his jumper and tugging him back.

Looking at her quizzically, he raised an eyebrow.

"You need a coat? It's nearly two in the morning it's going to be cold outside."

Aria herself had pulled on a jacket once Mark had arrived, but Donghyuck was still only clad in a threadbare hoodie that wouldn't protect him from the cold outside.

Reaching back over the bed, he pulled out his cost from beneath a chair and slid his arms into it wordlessly. He turned to Aria and spread his arms out into a display. "Happy?"

"It's better."

"Guys do you think we could not do this in the hallway? I really don't want to get caught by someone right now." Mark's voice came from just inside the doorway.

"Right, right," Aria agreed, shoving Donghyuck out the door and snatching the keycard off the table just before they left.

She slipped the keycard into her inside pocket of her jacket, zipping it closed before patting the padded material lightly. “Safe and sound.”

Mark, closed the door behind them. The beep sounded as the mechanism locked itself, and the trio were left standing alone in the empty hallway.

Donghyuck stretched his arms above his head, wincing slightly as his shoulder clicked. “Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.” 

Aria paused. “Hyuck, you don’t speak English.”

“I’m deaf and you don’t speak English.”

“And what do I do? You planning on leaving me for dead?” Mark asked, arms crossed.

Donghyuck only pat him on the shoulder, moving to rest his weight onto his elbow. “You, are fast. You’ll be fine.”

“You, are a terrible influence.” 

“A proud one.”

Aria put a hand on one of their shoulders each, pushing the two boys forward down the hallway insistently. “Let’s not have this argument where we can be found in incriminating circumstances, okay boys?”

Donghyuck snorted. “Aria we’re not going to go to jail for sneaking out.”

“Doyoung might put Aria on house arrest,” Mark countered.

“Then let’s not wait around for him to find her!”

With that, the trio made their way down the hallway, choosing to take the stairs down to the ground floor instead of the elevator - hoping to avoid as many people as possible. Aria had slipped three black facemasks into her pocket before they had left the room, knowing that if they were to be spotted they’d need something to help them blend in. 

The front doors of the hotel slid open with a quiet beep, and she was blasted with a cold front of air. She could feel her nose twitch slightly at the breeze, and knew that she’d be returning with a rosy tinge to her skin if they stayed out longer than a few minutes.

But instead of letting that bother her, Aria chose to focus on the identical wide grins Donghyuck and Mark sported, both boys looking around in wonder at the lights that surrounded them on the pavement. 

“Shall we?” Aria extended her arms playfully, giggling lightly as they both linked their arms into hers. 

Beginning their walk down the pavement, she could only look around in wonder. New York truly lived up to it’s name - dozens of people were milling about even at this time, all clad in various thicknesses of coats, and Aria felt herself relax minutely at the knowledge that the trio didn’t stick out against the colorful lights like a sore thumb. 

Each street had something new, and her eyes grew wider with every sign they passed as they walked. 

“Mark look!” Aria pointed towards a small bookstore on the corner of the block, dropping his arm to run towards the window. “Doesn’t that look like the notebook you wanted to get in Atlanta?”

A small, green leather-bound notebook had piqued Mark’s interest in the city earlier that month, but by the time he had had the time to get to the bookstore, the notebook had been sold. 

The notebook that Aria pointed out was near identical - perhaps a little bit thicker, but close enough to the original that Mark was already planning on how he was going to get back to this street tomorrow when all the shops were opened back up.

“Do you think we could come back here tomorrow to get it for you?” Aria looked away from the window, eyes shining hopefully.

Mark reached out to tug Aria underneath his arm, pulling her into his side. “I’m sure we can figure something out, Ari.”

She clapped her hands lightly to celebrate, before Donghyuck was taking them both by the hand and dragging them both back down the street which they had walked up.

“Now, while you’ve both been looking for fancy notebooks, I’ve been doing some important area recon, and have discovered that,” He trailed off, continuing walking with a firm grip on their wrists.

“Ta-da!” Donghyuck came to a stop, releasing their wrists before making jazz hands beside his face. 

Behind him, was a small food cart with an attendee that looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. 

“Pretzels?” Mark asked with a tilted head.

“Pretzels.” Donghyuck nodded emphatically. 

Aria tugged lightly on the younger boy’s sleeve. “Hyuck, I don’t think any of us brought money with us-”

Donghyuck hummed, cutting her off. “Got you covered, angel.” pulling out his phone and taking several small bills from behind his opaque phone case. 

Turning to the attendee with a blinding smile he strolled forward to the cart, opening his mouth to begin speaking. 

“Can I.. we..”

Mark stepped up behind him. “Order,” he whispered, facing the pavement so his lips weren’t visible to the man.

“Order.. three.. three,”

“Pretzels,”

“Pretzels please?” Donghyuck finished, looking up at the man curiously. 

“Yeah,” Came the deadened response. “That’ll be $9.87.” 

Donghyuck fumbled with his hands momentarily, before placing three bills into the awaiting hand and stepping back from the cart, shoving his hands into his pocket.

Aria came up beside him as Mark waited at the front of the cart. “Hyuck, I don’t think I should..”

He turned his head to look at her. “Hm?”

“I don’t think I should, eat that. You know?” She looked down knawing at her lip slightly. 

“I think you should.” He said.

“No I really shouldn’t-”

Aria was cut off by Mark approaching them, three warm pretzels in his hand. He handed one to Donghyuck who took it with an affirming hum before ripping into the bread with his teeth, and handed the other to a cautious Aria. 

After Mark had taken his first bite, he looked quizzically at Aria who was staring traitorously at the bread in her hand. “Ari?”

She sighed, dropping her shoulders a little. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I should-”

Aria squeaked when both Donghyuck’s and Mark’s glare was turned on her. “Guys I-”

“Pretzel.”

A protest formed on the top of her tongue, but fell flat when Mark raised an eyebrow. 

“Ok, ok sorry.” Aria took a bite from the now-cooling snack. 

Satisfied, both boys went back to their own snacks, sighing lightly as the trio continued their walk back down the streets they had come. From a different angle, they noticed new things each time, and it was so easy to lose track of the time when they were staring up in wonder at the neon lights.

The atmosphere was broken by a ping from Mark’s phone.

Jungwoo [2:08] uh

Jungwoo [2:08] taeyong hyung started his rounds

Jungwoo [2:08] id recommend getting ur asses back

Jungwoo [2:09] ill stall him

Mark [2:09] how long do we have 

Jungwoo [2:09] seven minutes. tops

Mark [2:09] fuck

The trio turned on their heels, pelting down the pavement.

The people they passed looked oddly at them - they must have made a comical sight. Three twenty-year-olds, dressed in padded jackets and facemasks sprinting down the street at two am. They looked like they’d just committed a robbery.

Aria could feel sweat beading at her forehead beneath her headband, pulling it off and tucking it into her pocket. These shoes were not designed for sprinting, and she could feel the rough plastic digging into her ankle already.

“How long do you think it’ll take us to get back?” Aria yelled over to the other boys, the blood rushing in her ears. 

Mark slipped out his phone from his pocket, pulling it up close to his face and checking the time. “Four minutes? We’ve gone in a big circle.”

“We’re dead.” Donghyuck breathed out harshly, picking up speed.

Silence filled in the wind rushing past their ears, feet pounding against the pavement. Mark barely stopped himself before crashing into a small child clinging sleepily to an older woman’s hand; twisting his body out of the way at the last second before profusely apologizing. 

It seemed like an eternity before they reached the front doors of the hotel they were staying at for the next two nights. 

Panting, Aria slowed to a walk, pulling at the neck of her sweater to fan herself. She took slow and deep breaths, trying to calm her pulse before they made their way into the lobby.

Starting forward, she was stopped by Donghyuck’s hand on her shoulder and Mark’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Oh. Oh god.” 

“Mark? You alright?” Aria turned to face the boy, watching his face drain of colour. 

He lifted a hand, pointing to the one window on the fifth floor with a light still on. It stood out against the other darkened windows, like a lightstick in a sea of concert-goers. And there, illuminated against the cream-coloured curtains, was Taeyong’s silhouette. 

Donghyuck huffed. “Aria, this was a terrible idea!”

#*aria.writings #nct 22nd member #nct dream 8th member #nct additional member #nct 24th member #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #nct 2020 #nct 2018 #wayv #superm #nct addition #nct additions #kpop addition #kpop additions #kpop!oc #kpop #nct extra member #nct female oc #nct female member #nct female member au

[griefpersevering]

sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand

the lokius beach fix-it fic nobody asked for

[Read on AO3] [Buy me a coffee?]

“Who are you?”

Loki stares at him for a long moment, his heart sinking in his chest. First Sylvie, now Mobius… maybe Lokis are destined to lose.

“What?” he asks, still breathing heavily.

The last few days have all melded into one; an indecipherable blur of racing for survival and not much else. With so much happening in quick succession since his failure in New York, it’s impossible to tell whether it has been days or weeks or months since he first arrived at the TVA.

Mobius doesn’t answer, just raising an eyebrow at him.

Loki allows his eyes to wander, assessing the situation and resigning himself to a fight. If Mobius doesn’t know who he is… well, there’s a chance he could get pruned again, and he would like to avoid that situation. Currently, the only people he can see are B-15 - who shouldn’t be too much of a problem - and Mobius, who he would prefer not to hurt, but if he doesn’t recognise him then-

Mobius bursts out laughing, B-15 snickering behind him. She claps him on the shoulder before waving goodbye and wandering off, still laughing to herself as she leaves.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Mobius says between breaths, his confusion replaced with a smile. “That was mean. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Mobius?” Loki ventures, still wary.

“Look, all that stuff about the Multiverse or whatever?” he replies, waving a hand dismissively. “Not our problem. I’ve officially retired, and I’ve got an excellent retirement plan. Fancy joining me?”

Loki crosses his arms, frowning. “You tricked me.”

Mobius shrugs. “Seems only fair.”

He tries not to smile. “You’re sure the TVA can deal with the Multiverse?”

“Yep, B-15’s taking care of it. Now, come on, there’s a beach waiting for us.”

Mobius fiddles with his TemPad for a moment, a doorway opening up in front of them. He takes a few confident strides towards it before hesitating, looking around the library one last time.

“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” he says, not meeting Loki’s eyes. “I know… I know a quieter life doesn’t really agree with Lokis. You can stay for the fight, if you want, or for Sylvie.”

Loki’s chest constricts at the mention of her, but he forces a small, sad smile onto his face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he answers, and Mobius smiles.

“For all time, then,” he says, extending his hand to Loki.

“Always,” he finishes, taking it as they step through the doorway together.

keep reading under the cut!

1991

The other side of the portal is exactly what Mobius promised: a beach. But what he failed to mention is the beauty of said beach - it isn’t just any old strip of sand, but one of the most breathtaking places Loki has ever had the honour of visiting.

They take a few steps into this new world, their shoes filling up with sand and their hands still entwined as they let their eyes adjust to the bright light. Loki pauses to slip off his socks and shoes, the sand warm and soft between his toes. Mobius follows suit, leaning on Loki for balance, a huge smile on his face.

“It should only be a few minutes walk from here,” Mobius announces, grinning.

“What is?” Loki asks, but he doesn’t get an answer. For once in his life, he isn’t sure he needs one, happy to go along with whatever adventure Mobius has planned.

They walk in comfortable silence, their feet sinking into the sand as they take in the tropical sights. To their left is a bay filled with sparking water which disappears past the land out to the horizon. In the distance, Loki can see a much busier beach by what appears to be a town. If he listens carefully enough, and the wind is blowing in the right direction, he can hear a hundred conversations carrying across the bay at once, a pleasant white noise that mixes with the sound of lapping waves.

To their right is a row of secluded houses, all enveloped in lush greenery that grows from the forest behind them, seeming to lean forwards and envelop them. Their front doors are all painted a variety of bright colours - red, yellow, purple, orange, pink - apart from the one at the end, which is just the default brown.

Mobius pulls a set of keys out of his pocket, a tiny fish keyring hanging from them. “This one is ours,” he declares, and he tugs Loki towards the little cottage at the end of the row.

It takes him a moment to find the right key to unlock the door before it swings open, a neutral brown and white hallway greeting them. He leaves his shoes on the mat outside the front door, Loki following suit, before venturing inside their new house.

Loki can’t say he is surprised by the decor - it isn’t exactly reminiscent of the TVA, but everything is decorated to look almost like a show home. There are no bright colours, no personal touches, nothing to indicate that anyone has ever lived there before them.

Just as Loki opens his mouth to say something, Mobius wrinkles his nose and beats him to it.

“Would it kill someone to pick up a paintbrush?” he complains, but he’s still smiling. “That’s what you get for a company retirement plan that’s only been in place for six hours, I guess… we’ll have to do it all ourselves.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Company retirement plan?”

Mobius grins. “We have a lot to catch up on. Come on, why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll get us something to drink.”

As soon as he leaves the room, Loki rolls his eyes and waves his hand, using his magic to clean the blood and the dirt off of him and to change into a pair of shorts and a bright green haiwaiian t-shirt. And, now that he thinks about it… he frowns and uses what little magic he has left in him to spruce up the place a bit, before collapsing onto the (admittedly, very comfy) couch.

Mobius returns only a few minutes later, raising his eyebrows at the way Loki is sprawled across the sofa, his eyes closed. He looks around the room, taking in the few things that Loki has added - a blanket draped across the back of the couch, a wooden coffee table with a golden bowl of fruit placed neatly on top, and a framed poster of a jet ski on the far wall.

Oh, Mobius thinks with a snicker, you’re gonna love what I have planned for tomorrow.

“Did you get us a drink or are you just going to stand there for all eternity?” Loki asks without opening his eyes, swinging his legs so that there’s room to sit next to him.

“Sorry if I wasn’t moving fast enough, your highness,” Mobius teases as he plops onto the couch, passing a cold beer bottle into Loki’s waiting hands. “The new outfit slowed me down a bit.”

Loki smirks, cracking open one eye to see the outfit that he’d swapped for Mobius’ old clothes. “I thought you’d appreciate something more comfortable. Besides, we match.”

He swings his legs back up onto Mobius’ lap, taking a swig of his drink. They are quiet for a moment, listening to the distant crashing of waves and enjoying the lack of need to do… well, anything.

“Do you mind if I turn the television on?” Mobius eventually asks, and Loki hums an affirmative. He grabs the remote, trying to avoid jostling the legs on his lap as much as possible, before pressing the on button.

As an afterthought, he tugs the soft blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it over the both of them, firmly focusing his attention on the screen in front of them rather than the sleepy god next to him.

{o0o}

Since he isn’t exactly human, Loki doesn’t need nearly as much sleep as humans. Usually, about eight hours is enough to get him through the week. However, with all the crazy stuff and time hopping and running for his life that he has done in the last however long, he’s asleep within minutes of making contact with the sofa.

When he wakes, however, it is to light streaming through a thin beige curtain. He sits up, running a hand through his hair, as he sleepily takes in his surroundings.

Somehow, he has ended up on top of a bed that he has never seen before. Given the boring decor, he assumes it must be the upstairs of the cottage… so, presumably, Mobius had moved him upstairs in his sleep.

Loki waits for that statement to sink in, for him to feel that usual sense of panic at someone being there and moving him while he was vulnerable, but it never comes.

(If he is being honest with himself, he knows exactly why Mobius is the exception, but he isn’t ready to admit that, not yet.)

He wanders over to the window, yanking open the curtain. There, outside, is the same paradise they had arrived in only last night. And, if the digital clock on the bedside table is enough to go by, it’s 10am on the twenty-fourth of September, 1991.

The view is even more beautiful when he is more awake to admire it, Loki decides. The bay sparkles like a rare jewel, and he finds himself cracking the window open to let some fresh air in.

He sighs, a long breath that mists the glass in front of him. He’ll miss this place, when he inevitably has to leave. Because there’s no way he can stay here for the rest of his life; he’s a Loki, after all, and Lokis are destined to lose. This - a paradise beyond time with someone who knows who he is and accepts him for who he is? He could scoff at the idea. When has the Universe (or the Multiverse, he supposes) ever been that kind to him?

Loki stares blankly out of the window for a few minutes until he is broken from his trance when he spots a familiar figure struggling down the beach, attempting to balance much more shopping than one man can manage.

He blinks a few times, making sure that it is, in fact, Mobius, before barking out a laugh and rushing downstairs and out the front door to lend him a hand. After all, what kind of guest would he be if he let his host embarrass himself publicly within 24 hours of moving in?

When he catches up to him - wearing the same garish, bright orange haiwaiian shirt that Loki had conjured up for him yesterday, he notes - Mobius doesn’t even notice he’s there until several of the bags are lifted from him.

“Hey! Oh, it’s just you,” he exclaims, adjusting a box under his arm. “Thank you,” he adds.

“What did you get?” Loki asks, tucking some of the smaller items into a pocket dimension so he had free hands to carry the rest of it.

“Oh, just a couple of things to spruce the place up. I got a bit carried away, actually,” Mobius admits as they start off back down the beach. “How did you sleep?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Like the dead, apparently. Did you move me while I was asleep?”

Mobius doesn’t meet his eyes as he responds. “Yep. You looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

There’s a pang in Loki’s chest; another reminder that leaving this place will get more and more painful the longer he stays. He can’t get used to these common gestures of affection - he can’t think of another person who would have cared enough about his comfort to go to the effort of carrying him up the stairs.

“Is something wrong?” Mobius asks, interrupting Loki’s train of thought. He’s staring at him, a curious expression on his face, and it’s only then that Loki realises they have stopped.

“It’s nothing,” Loki replies quickly, giving Mobius one of his most charming smiles as he starts walking again.

Mobius stays rooted to the spot. “Bullshit.”

Loki stops, his back turned to Mobius, and sighs. A range of lies are on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite find it in himself to bother trying to keep up a facade that they both know Mobius can see straight through.

“I’m having a nice time,” he states, after a minute of debate.

Mobius starts walking again, juggling his shopping as he catches up to Loki. “And that is a problem… why?”

“Because good things don’t last!” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Lokis are destined to lose.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow. “You think this will be taken away from you,” he says. It isn’t a question. “Well, I have a present for you, then. Two, actually.”

They reach the front door of their cottage, Loki’s eyes trained on the ground as he scuffs his sandals on the sand. Mobius rummages through his bags, trying to find something specific.

“May I have the red striped carrier bag, please?” he asks, when his search comes up fruitless. Loki conjures it for him, passing it over. He doesn’t know what’s in any of the bags (although, now, he’s thinking he should probably have checked), he had only picked it because it is one of the heaviest ones.

Mobius opens the bag from him with a word of thanks, peering in to check it’s the right one. Then, he sticks a hand in his pocket, pulling out his fist closed around something.

“Here,” he says, offering his closed fist to Loki. “This is yours to keep, forever.”

Loki cautiously holds out a hand, and Mobius drops the item into his palm. Loki stares at the little piece of metal, wondering how it could mean so much.

“...Is this?”

“The key to our house, yeah,” Mobius confirms, smiling. “And a crocodile keyring, since I’m apparently never going to get over meeting that version of you.”

Loki smiles, just slightly, cupping the key carefully in his hands as he admires the keyring.

“And that bag is also for you. Well, the contents are, I don’t know if you want the bag as well-”

It’s not hard to tell that Mobius is nervous, so Loki can’t begin to imagine what is in the bag. He picks it up, sand pouring out the bottom of the bag, raising his eyebrows at what he finds.

“Green paint?”

Mobius grins, scratching the back of his head. “We’re the only ones with a boring front door. I figured we should probably fix that, add some of your flare.”

Loki gives him a shit-eating grin, sliding the keys into his pocket.

“What?” Mobius asks, sensing something is up. “What did I say?”

With a wave of a hand and without the paint can ever being opened, the front door is suddenly the colour of Peppermint Fresh.

“You seem to be forgetting you live with a god,” Loki declares, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on.”

They spend the rest of their day renovating their new house, Loki’s powers speeding up the process immensely. Other than paint and wallpaper, Mobius had also bought them both some clothes, as well as a range of random items to make the place look a little more personal, and two whole bags of groceries.

“I’ve never cooked anything before,” he admits, just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. “We never had to, at the TVA. We always just went to the canteen.”

Loki hums to the radio playing in the corner, standing back to check if the strip of wallpaper he had just hung looked straight. “We always had people cook for us, back on Asgard,” he replies. “My mother tried to teach me, but I found pestering my brother much more interesting.”

“Do you miss your family?” Mobius asks, collecting the paintbrushes from around the room so he can wash them in the kitchen sink.

“They weren’t my family,” he responds immediately, before wincing. “Well, not biologically. But I’m starting to think that maybe family is more than just DNA.”

Mobius nods, shoving the paintbrushes into a carrier bag. When he’s sure Loki has nothing else to say, he gestures to the door. “Want to make sure I don’t set fire to the kitchen?”

Loki smiles. He has found himself doing that more and more since he has met Mobius; the man always seems to know what to say and do. “I’m pretty sure you know that I have quite the history of arson, but sure.”

So, they go downstairs, Loki waving his hands and cleaning the stray blotches of paint off their clothes.

“Let’s start with something simple,” Mobius suggests, opening the fridge. “Fish fingers?”

Loki nods. “Surely even you can’t mess that up.”

Oh, how he was wrong. An hour later, they’re sitting next to each other on the couch (upright, this time) eating burnt fish fingers and scoffing at the programme they’re watching.

“Do humans really believe in these things?” Loki asks incredulously, squirting more ketchup on his plate in an attempt to overpower the burnt taste.

Mobius scoffs. “I think it’s for entertainment, Loki. But yeah, ‘aliens’ don’t act like this. At least, not as far as I know.”

“There’s a multiverse now,” Loki muses. “Maybe there weren’t any before, but there are now.”

Mobius shrugs. “Who knows. It’s not our problem, either way.”

Loki doesn’t answer, instead opting to scoop the fishfinger into his mouth. Mobius frowns at his lack of response, grabbing the remote and muting Mulder and Scully’s investigation.

“You do know… this whole multiverse business, it’s not your fault, right? And, as far as we know, nothing catastrophic has happened yet.”

Loki swallows, refusing to take his eyes off the silent TV. “That’s the thing, Mobius. It is my fault - partly, at the very least. And what if something bad does happen? Any suffering or pain caused by this is on my shoulders.”

Mobius puts his plate down on the coffee table, nudging him with his shoulder. “That statement is so incorrect, it’s unbelievable. I thought you were supposed to be smart?”

Loki doesn’t say anything, and he sighs.

“Look - first of all, it isn’t your fault. This is all on Sylvie. I don’t know what happened there, but from what I gather, you tried to stop her, and that’s all that matters. I’ve met a hundred different Lokis, and every single one of them would have done what benefits them the most, not fought to try and do something to help other people.”

“She kissed me,” Loki says, out of nowhere. “Sylvie, I mean. And then she just… tossed me away.”

Mobius frowns. “Did you like her?”

“I thought I did,” he admits. “But I think - I don’t think I liked her like that. I think I mistook wanting her to be safe and happy for love.”

“It’s a kind of love, just perhaps not the one you assumed it was.”

Loki nods. “I loved her like a sister, I suppose.”

“And she betrayed you,” Mobius continues. “When you were finally allowing yourself to trust others again.”

Loki puts his plate on top of Mobius’, suddenly not hungry. He tries to turn his attention back to the muted television, but he’s missed too much of the exposition to properly understand what is happening.

“Loki, look at me,” Mobius says softly. “Loki.”

He turns, praying that he doesn’t notice the tears welling in his eyes.

“Experiencing two conflicting emotions is perfectly normal,” Mobius continues, reaching for Loki’s hand and squeezing it. “You can care about Sylvie, and be upset about what she did at the same time.”

“I just-” he tries, his voice cracking. “I just wonder whether she ever cared about me, or whether she was just using me the entire time. I mean, it’s the kind of thing I would do, isn’t it?”

Mobius stares him dead in the eye, his voice firm. “Maybe once, but not now. You know what makes you different from every other Loki?”

“The fact I stole the Tesseract, escaped to the desert, and then helped to take down the man in charge of the universe?”

“No.” Mobius sighs. “Well, yes, I suppose. But what I was trying to say is that you’re different to every Loki because you care. You recognised your faults, and then you tried to change them.

“You said, earlier, ‘Lokis are destined to lose’, and yet here you are. I would count this as a win, wouldn’t you?”

Loki is uncharacteristically silent after that. They sit like that for a few minutes, neither of them speaking, before Loki stands up and disappears into the kitchen, taking the plates with him. Mobius sighs, reaching for the TV remote and turning the channel to some random movie.

When Loki returns a few minutes later, he sits straight down next to Mobius. They watch the movie - something about little fluffy monsters - together, not finding the need to speak.

It’s only by the time Loki’s head has drooped onto Mobius’ shoulder that the silence is broken. He drags the blanket over the sleepy Loki that’s attached itself to him, grinning at how adorable he finds the ferocious god.

“Thank you,” Loki mumbles, only half-conscious, and they both know he isn’t only talking about the blanket.

{o0o}

This time, when Loki wakes up, he knows the bed he lies in is his own. He frowns, not remembering getting into bed, before realising that Mobius must have carried him upstairs again.

If anyone asked him, he would say that he had fallen asleep because of all the magic he had used to renovate during the day, but that wouldn’t be the truth. No, he’d be a little more hesitant to admit that their little cottage by the beach feels like the safest place he has ever stayed. Besides, emotions are exhausting.

He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and checking the little clock by his bedside. 9:24, it reads, which isn’t too-

“Loki?” a sleepy voice says from beside him, and he has to stop himself from leaping out of the bed in surprise.

Because somehow, in the few minutes he has been awake, he has failed to notice that he is not alone in the room. Next to him, tucked neatly under the covers, is Mobius, Captain America pajamas and all.

Loki wrinkles his nose at the choice of outfit, but doesn’t voice his opinion. “What - did I fall asleep again?”

“Mmm,” Mobius hums, eyes sliding shut again. “‘S too early, go back to sleep.”

Okay, Loki’s pretty sure his heart just melted slightly. “I don’t need as much sleep as you,” he replies gently. “But you should lie in.”

“Fine,” Mobius complains, rolling over. “But I’m stealing your pillows.”

Loki can’t help but grin at the ridiculous sight - Mobius M. Mobius, formerly one of the most prestigious members of an elite organisation, spread starfish-style across their bed in his Avengers pajamas.

(Although, Loki supposes, the actual Avengers won’t exist for another twenty or so years, thanks to their time travel shenanigans.)

He slips into the hallway, leaving the door ajar behind him, before rummaging around in the bags they had shoved in the study yesterday without bothering to unpack. It only takes a few minutes to find the item he’s looking for, and it takes even less time to sneak back into their bedroom, his footsteps entirely silent.

Click! Loki smirks from behind the disposable camera and sneaks back out of the room, hoping that Mobius doesn’t wake up. Just because he doesn’t want a throne anymore doesn’t mean that he isn’t the God of Mischief- surely, Mobius should be expecting at least a few harmless pranks.

It’s a nice morning - cool, but in that way that suggests it might get much warmer later in the day - so Loki decides to go for a walk. He has barely made it past the second house in their row when a familiar face pops up from behind a hedge, waving wildly.

“Hey! I know you - blue box guy!”

Loki blinks a few times, trying to place the man in front of him. “Casey?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims, hurrying out of his front gate. “You stole my drink.”

“Sorry,” Loki replies automatically, before shaking his head. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you would not believe the week I have had,” Casey begins, waving his arm dramatically. “So I’ve been behind a desk my entire life, right? And then Mobius comes along, and he’s all like ‘Everyone who works for the TVA is a variant and the Timekeepers aren’t real!’ So there’s a bit of a fight - not everyone believes him, you see, and I had no idea what to think - and then a load of people come back from a field mission saying they saw Judge Renslayer as a high school principal!”

“Really,” Loki says drily, trying to keep up with the man’s incessant babbling.

“Yeah! So then Mobius takes over, just for a while, and he says that there are two Loki variants who are gonna take down whoever is behind the TVA, and he comes up with a plan - the people who still want to work there answer to B-15 and do whatever they want to, or you can retire to a few different locations in a few different times! And I figured, ‘Gosh, I nearly died twice in the span of ten minutes and that was scary so I should probably make sure my life has meant something,’ and also a multiverse sounds like a lot of paperwork, so. Here I am!”

Loki is silent for a few seconds, still trying to process all the information that Casey managed to spit out at an alarmingly fast rate. “Wait. So, everyone who lives here used to work for the TVA?”

Casey nods. “This row of houses, yeah. ‘1991 Beach’ was the most popular retirement option - I was pretty lucky to get one of these spots.”

“Huh,” is just about all Loki can manage.

“And guess what, criminal whose name I don’t know!” Casey exclaims excitedly. “I met a fish the other day.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you, now?”

“Yep! Which, uh, makes your threat much more vivid.” Casey shudders.

“Don’t worry, I don’t kill people anymore,” Loki says, and realises that that is probably the truth. “Sorry about that, and for stealing your drink.”

Casey shrugs. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“I should head back, but it was nice to see you again, Casey.” Loki turns back to their house, his feet slipping slightly in the sand. “Oh, and, by the way - my name is Loki.”

He turns his back and walks away before he can see the look on Casey’s face, but if the sharp intake of breath he hears is anything to go by, he has certainly succeeded in surprising his new neighbour.

When he gets back, Mobius is awake, shuffling around the kitchen in his pajamas. “Morning, sunshine,” he greets as Loki appears in the doorway, sniffing the air.

“Breakfast?” he asks hopefully, and Mobius laughs.

“Yup. Full English, I thought. Did you have a nice walk?”

Loki perches on the edge of the table, smiling. “I didn’t get particularly far. I had an… interesting conversation with Casey, though.”

“Oh, I remember him. Bit weird, if memory serves,” Mobius responds, scrunching his nose as he cracks two eggs into the frying pan. “Wait, how do you know him?”

Loki scratches the back of his head. “I may, uh - I may have threatened to ‘gut him like a fish’. And then I stole his drink and poured it into your salad.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow. “Wow, okay.”

“In my defense, he didn’t know what a fish was until he moved here. And, I was part of the reason he retired, so.”

“How did he not know what a fish- You know what,” he replies, shaking his head as he turns back to the stove. “I don’t care.”

Loki turns the radio in the corner on with a flick of his wrist, and they are both content to sit and enjoy the quiet morning while Mobius cooks. In no time at all, they are sitting across from each other, two plates of food in front of them.

Picking a piece of eggshell out of his food, Loki warily takes a bite. “Did you have any plans for today?”

“As a matter of fact,” Mobius responds with an excited grin, “I do.”

It turns out, Mobius’ plans involve him packing a backpack and eagerly dragging Loki down the beach to a small jetty. There, waiting for them on the end of the small pier, is a jet ski.

Loki grins. “So that's why you chose the beach.”

Mobius grins, dumping the bag on the side and fishing his keys out of his pockets. “I have read about these things every day for almost the entirety of what I can remember, and I’m finally getting to go on one. Are you coming?”

“Of course,” Loki answers, and he clambers on behind Mobius.

“Hang on,” he shouts over the engine, and Loki wraps his arms around his waist. “You ready?”

“I’m starting to think this might be a bad- woah!”

Before Loki can even finish his statement, they’re off. Mobius soon gets the hang of it, zipping around the bay and whooping. Loki can’t help but smile - sure, he isn’t nearly as bothered about jet skis as Mobius is, but the man’s excitement is contagious. Besides, there is a certain freedom to it; he can feel the wind in his hair and taste the salt on his lips.

Suddenly, Mobius attempts to do a sharp turn, jolting them both with absolutely no warning. Loki tries to hang on, clinging tightly onto his chest, but the movement catches him by surprise and he ends up in the water.

Mobius turns the jet ski around, slowly pulling up next to (the now very wet) god. “Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very apologetic.

“Maybe I’ll stick to sunbathing,” Loki suggests as Mobius hauls him back onto the ski before dropping him off at the jetty.

“Are you sure?” he asks, clearly torn between having the time of his life and leaving Loki on his own.

“Of course I’m sure,” he answers. “I think I’ll survive an hour or two on my own. Besides, I don’t want to ruin your fun by vomiting all over you.”

Mobius pulls a face. “Maybe it’s for the best, then. I won’t go far, I promise.”

“Go!” Loki says, waving his arm at his friend as he picks up their bag. “Have some fun. You’ve earned it. I think we both have.”

Hours later, when the sun has started to set over the horizon, the two men find themselves lazing on the beach next to each other. Mobius slips a chocolate wrapper into the book he’s reading and places it down next to him, turning to his companion.

“Loki,” he begins, staring out at the sea. “Did you ever think you would settle down like this?”

“Never,” Loki answers, without any hesitation.

“Me neither.”

In the distance, there is the faint smell of cherry pie - perhaps one of their neighbours is cooking. A seagull swoops by overhead, landing on a fence a few feet behind them and bobbing about. If you look closely enough, you can see the ripples on the top of the water; the only clue that there are fish below the surface.

“We make a strange pair, don’t we?” Mobius muses, watching the sky turn from blue to orange to pink.

Loki hums. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

There’s no argument to be made against that in Mobius’ mind, so they sit together, not at the end of the world, but at the beginning of one.

THE END.

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#lokius #loki #loki spoilers #mobius #mcu #my writing #syssyb

[bakugou-jpg]

Stay, please || K. Takami /Hawks

A/N: This was requested by an anon, for Hawks angst to fluff. I’m not entirely sure if this ks what you wanted but i hope you like it anyway!

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warning: BNHA MANGA SPOILERS, angst.

Words: 7789 words

_____________________________________

The job of a pro hero, was something that came with a lot of responsibility. As a pro hero, you had the responsibility of someone else's life in your hands . The responsibility to keep them safe. It was a never ending battle between bad and good with when one villain had finally been defeated and captured a new one was lurking in the corners of the streets.

The training young teens who just decided what to with their lives, which was wanting to make the world a better place and saving people by becoming a hero, was rather cruel in some cases. There was no denying in the fact that learning is best done by practice, but putting 16 year olds into battles between adults they shouldn't have to fight could be..considered inhuman in some cases.

Especially when the 'teen' is a 6 year old boy who had no choice but to give his life to the country to be used as a tool to solve the life long battle between good and evil. He was seen as a 'secret weapon'. One that would make the world a better place. A future set out for him in every possible detail until his very retirement.

It was tiring, so very tiring. A constant cycle of waking up, going to work, overworking, getting home, go to bed. Barely any time for free time. The lack of it made him feel like he was stuck in a simulation, a system that he couldn't run away from.

He felt like he was being suffocated, a tight rope wrapped around his throat with the people he worked for his entire life at the end of it only pulling it tighter and tighter putting more and more responsibility on his shoulders. He was gonna collapse, his vision growing hazy and his knees trembling close to giving up.

"Keigo.."

The rope around his neck loosened. Hawks was so focused on walking forward towards the pointless direction he was forced to walk towards that.. he hadn't noticed when a soft pair of hands had started fumbling with the rough material. He hadn't noticed when breathing got easier again and he certainly didn't notice when his legs dragged him somewhere else.

Falling in love with you was the easiest thing he had ever done. The moment his eyes met yours he was absolutely swooned by the way they held such a calming warmth in them that he felt his wings puff up. You were incredibly beautiful to him and the red tips of his ears certainly didn't go unnoticed for he felt a cold feeling wash over him when the number one hero sent a glare at him reminding him he was on patrol.

He felt himself so drawn to your presence, always finding ways to sneakily run into you or find a reason to talk to you.

When the cold months creeped around the corner, meaning the sun set earlier in the evening, he did not hesitate for a second to insist he'd bring you home safely. He wouldn't hesitate to playfully tease you about the tiniest things, loving the either flustered or giggling reaction coming from you.

"Hawks..?"

His eyes were glued to the screen of his computer, scanning over all the tiny words that for some reason didn't seem to get through his skull no matter what he did.

He felt like his eyelids were being pulled down by tiny fairies who were trying to lul him into a deep sleep so they'd be able to kill him in his sleep or kidnap him afterwards..atleast, that's the story his grandmother had told him when she was still around when he was younger.

God, how long that had been and how fuzzy the memories were of her. Hawks never saw her often, for the relationship with her and his dad was horrible, but when he did he'd feel nothing but a warm fuzzy feeling he hadn't felt in years. A comfortable feeling he wanted to bask in forever with no worry in the world.

He tore his eyes away from the screen, immediately settling on your form after you had entered his office.

The crimson wings fluffed up just slightly upon seeing the sight of you, a reaction Hawks had no control over. Slowly, he spread them and even in the dim light of his laptop screen you could still clearly see the beautiful red colour they held. Every little detail of each feather, how they slightly shook when he stretched his entire body before folding back into their previous position behind his back.

"Ah, it seems i have died huh? Knew all this paperwork was gonna make my brain melt one day..Though, i thought angels had like eight arms were shaped like a pyramid and had like fifty eyes in total."

A playful smirk danced around his features, but it wasn't hard to take notice of the tiredness his eyes held. How to bags under his eyes would get darker by the day and how his voice sounded heavy laced with drowsiness.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help but snort at his words. Your eyes were still glued onto his wings, mesmerized by the way they looked and never failing to impress you.

"What are you doing here so late, dove? Thought your shift ended two hours ago, did you miss me that much?"

Hawks noticed how your eyebrows scrunched together this time there was no little smile or snort at his comment. Did he cross a line he shouldn't of have crossed? No, you didn't seem mad..you looked worried.

Placing one foot in front of the other hesitantly, you made your way towards Hawks desk eyes scanning over all the littered papers and the opened document on his laptop.

"Could ask you the same question, Mr.hero..I had forgotten my keys so was unable to enter my house. Thought your shift ended three hours ago?"

The tone in your voice was more stern this time and the hero didn't miss the somewhat motherly undertones to it. Even the way the way your hand found its way into his hair, plucking something out of it but even the slightest touch made him coo softly.

Quickly snapping out of his smitten state, Hawks quickly recollected himself and grinned. No matter how hard he tried, he still looked burned out and absolutely exhausted. The small pile of energy drinks in his trash can and the empty coffee cup on his desk only making it more obvious. "Thought it would be fun to just sit here and stare at some words on a screen with no yellow light"

A small moment of silence took over the room. An awkward one at that..had he made an uncomfortable comment once again?

It was hard to let his eyes settle to the dark after having had them glued onto the screen for so many hours. He could very easily make out your silhouette and where your eyes were, but it was a little hard pinpointing the details in your face.

Being so focused on taking in your facial features, he hadn't noticed how your hand had slowly creeped up on him to settle onto his wings. Nobody ever really touched his wings, well technically they did of course just..not like this. Not with such tenderness while running their nails over his skin, like getting your hair played with but so different.

It was hard to keep his composure like that and the very moment your fingers moved he let out a shaky sigh, eyes rolling to the back of his head and his body relaxing under your touch.

"You're so tense, should take better care of yourself Mr.hero.." You whispered, hands trailing from the base of his wings up his shoulders before settling onto his neck and giving it a small squeeze.

Hawks face felt warm. He wasn't sure if you were aware of what you did to him or if this was you trying to tease him in any way. It felt nice, so very nice. To be touched like this, with such gentle movements. He wanted to bask into it forever, for him the only one you'd touch like that and talk to.

Leaning his head back, Hawks peered up into your eyes while resting his head against your stomach. Your hands were now attached to his ears, tracing his ear-shells with your fingers.

"Please.." He whispered so very softly, his voice so desperate.

"Hm?"

"..stay"

Eyes widening slightly, the fingers once wrapped around his head slipped away.

Hawks was a very open book, it had been something you noticed right away when you first met him. He wasn't afraid to show his feelings about something or to state his opinion on certain things. His emotions always very clearly present on his face.

Yet, the emotion he currently expressed was hard to place. You weren't sure if it was fear, sadness or desperation. Maybe a mix of all of them but none of them really was the hawks you used to see on a daily basis. Were his emotions getting the best of him at the late hours of the night?

His rather cold hands took ahold of your own the chill spread out through the rest of your body something which made you shiver slightly.

"God Hawks, you certainly are sappy huh?"

A small grin tugged at the edges of his lips, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. His eyes followed your form as you sat down on his desk, eyes piercing into your own.

"Got me there, dove..Only for you though, baby bird."

With a small smack to the head, his chest felt much lighter when you started reading through the papers scattered around his desk, a pen in your mouth while writing down things here and there. How you'd rest your legs on the arm of his chair telling him to finish his part so the both of you could go home.

That was the first time Hawks started thinking about a future other than what had been set in stone for him ever since he was a kid. What is a selfish thing to do..? To think about a future that only he provided off in the end and hopefully you too, of course? I..think everyone's allowed to be a little selfish sometimes. That longing for something so precious and wonderful is something everyone deserves to have.

To be selfish and keep you to himself, to hold you in the late hours of the night and to be able to feel your skin against his own.

With his wing wrapped around your body, you walked underneath the dimly lit streets.Every time either of you laughed or talked, a small cloud would leave your mouth and disappear into the cold november air.

It was only such a small memory compared to the ones the two of you had made throughout the friendship you had, one that eventually blossomed into something more. Though, to Hawks it was the night he came to the realization that for the first time in his life he felt like..there was a destination, a goal, to where he was walking to.

Loving you was the easiest thing Hawks could ever do. It was like breathing unconsciously, blinking his eyes and how his heart pumped blood through his body. Something so natural and right, something he needed so desperately.

It was funny how he had gone 21 years through out his life without you but now that he had you for barely 2 years for himself, he felt like he couldn't go without you being there for him and having you by his side. He was addicted to your presence, you were like a drug he couldn't get enough of.

You had showed him that the little things mattered, that it was okay to make mistakes and that it was so easy to love something more than yourself.

Coming home, exhausted and beaten up, to be engulfed in the warmest pair of arms instead of his empty bed was the thing he'd look forward to every day. To be peppered in soft kisses and have fingers go through his hair welcoming him home being told that he had been missed. It was a thing that got him through the day, knowing there was someone out there waiting for him.

Although he felt like it, Hawks...would never truly be free.

Even though. You had loosened every rope tied around his body, took his hand and guided him elsewhere, he would always be reminded that those ropes were still there. No matter what, he was still doomed to serve the people he had given almost his whole entire life to.

At times it was a little hard, having to stay away from what he considered home for a couple of days sometimes even weeks, but the two of you managed. The media barely had any information about his personal life. Both the agency and he himself kept it hidden deeply underneath a pile of dirt a ton of feet under the ground.

They knew about your existence, sure, but you were known as one of Endeavour's right hands. The one who followed him around like a puppy everywhere he went, taking care of most of the media problems for him and the one he went to for advice regarding his hero work.

Deep inside, Hawks knew that he wasn't worthy of all this. That he wasn't made to live a life like he was currently living, but he always pushed away those thoughts. Negativity wasn't gonna get him anywhere, it would affect both him and you.

"We need you to play infiltrate the league of villains as a spy. Make them believe you're on their side, gain their trust and leak some unimportant facts we give you here and there. Mr. Takami we need you to do whatever it takes."

League of villains, spy, whatever it takes..?

His whole head was buzzing the entire time during the meeting, where they told him all the important details and went through all of the steps he'd have to take.

Hawks had seen what the league was capable of, hell, the whole entirety of Japan had seen so. Individually he could take most of them on, probably. He'd have to watch out for the one that went by the name of 'Dabi', his feathers didn't exactly mix well with fire. Shigaraki was also sketchy, but aside from that he had received the news that the league seemed to be plotting something.

Not the craziest thing, since they had been quite off the radar for a few months now. And especially with those creatures they called nomus nobody was sure what would happen.

Going home that day felt wrong. Knowing what was to come, a bitter feeling creeping into his mouth while his feet felt like cement blocks heavier with every step he took closer to the door.

"Keigo, welcome home!"

The moment your face appeared from around the corner his heart only felt heavier. The fact you were so very unaware of what was about to happen and did your usual routine of wrapping your arms around him, gently taking off his vizors and headphones before cupping his face and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He couldn't do it

"Tough day at work? You look like you went 3 days without sleep Kei..and for someone who kept me up with his snoring last night that sure is quite something."

Your comment usually would've made him snicker or atleast just crack a grin. You were always able to make him feel be better and make him laugh on his worst days. Always knowing what to say and do, knowing him like the back of your hand.

He felt so numb. All his emotions were flat, he had to do this. He had to, he'd do anything to keep you safe and if that meant letting you go... then so be it.

"(Y/n), we need to talk."

His hands wrapped around your shoulders and softly pushed you off of him before reaching out to your own, giving them a soft squeeze with his thumb drawing a circle over your ring finger.

Hawks always knew he was gonna wrap the prettiest and biggest ring around there. He didn't care if you didn't want something to extravagant or so flashy and scold him for spending so much money. It ate at him that he was able to show you off but he would, he'd let everyone know you were his and he was yours. Didn't care what the agency or your boss thought. Didn't care about the media. None of that, just you. You and him.

He promised himself he'd always keep you safe, no matter what happened your safety came first. He'd do anything and, if that meant letting you go, then..so be it

"I'm sorry, but i don't love you anymore. Its not fair to you if i keep hiding this from you. I think we should end this."

He wanted to grow old with you. So badly. To spend his last moments in your arms and to adopt a dog with you- Hell even, maybe if god would've let him, have actual kids with you.

Seeing you laugh it off at first made his heart crumble. Especially the moment he saw your face slowly change when you started realizing that it wasn't a joke. How your eyes twisted from pure joy, to confusion, to a mix from both confusion and sorrow. A glassy layer of tears welling up in your eyes, head shaking no and your hands letting go of his.

"W-what? What do you mean- I-i don't understand."

Your voice was breaking, like a thin layer of ice on top of a lake in winter. Ice so incredibly thin that it wasn't able to hold the weight of a little robin hopping around on it.

He wanted to pull you into his arms, hush you while whispering comforting words into your ear. Telling you that he didn't mean it, that he loved you more than anything else in this world. But he couldn't. You had to be safe, you'd be in great danger if he continued the relationship you two shared.

"Since when?" You asked softly, eyes fixated onto his chest. You were unable to look him in the eye, unable to show him how you were slowly falling apart. In all honesty, you didn't want him to answer. You didn't want to know when he stopped loving you, for it had only been half a day when he told you he loved you, held you in his arms and kissed your forehead oh so lovingly before leaving for work.

Hawks scrunched his eyebrows together, eyes never leaving your trembling form. "I..I think it was around last month i started having my dou-"

"Last month, Keigo? You wanna fucking tell me that all those night i spend in your arms, that when i brought you to my fucking parents for dinner and when you told me you loved me, all meant nothing to you?!"

There it was. The little robin landing on top of the surface, creating a hole in its path before taking off leaving the ice broken into pieces. The tears flowed freely from your eyes, sleeves desperately trying to wipe them away but failing to do so.

"What did i do wrong? I don't understand..I-is there someone else..?"

"What- No! Never, i could never..i-"

Hawks gritted his teeth and had to dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket or else he would slip and reach out for you. It took ever cell in his body not to wrap you up in his arms and apologize and pepper your face with kisses.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n). I'll go pack my bags."

Trying to move past you only to be pushed back, hands gripping at the sleeves of his jacket and teary eyes piercings through his own. "Kei, what's going on?"

Your voice was so soft, so comforting. It felt so normal to lean into your touch, to close his eyes when you cupped his cheeks and feel just the slightest bit at ease.

The hero could feel a lump of his own form in his throat, one he desperately tried to swallow, and started biting down on his bottom lip. "I-i..I'm so sorry baby bird i-i..i can't tell you." He whispered, barely hearable due to the lump blocking the air in his throat.

The arms wrapping around your trembling form, the hand on the back of your head, the voice softly shushing you and the warm lips pressing a soft lingering kiss to your forehead all made it feel like time stopped. Nor did those things prove that he had fallen out of love, to be exact it only proved how much he adored you.

You didn't notice when he walked past you, into the bedroom. Or when he packed a suitcase and all his stuff, feathers flying through the house here and there to collect some of his stuff.

It was only when he stood next to you again, his warm golden eyes filled with sorrow, that you snapped back to your thoughts.

"I'm sorry, dove."

Leaning down, Hawks pressed his very last kiss onto the corner of your mouth. One that lingered just a little longer than the others, one that held just a little bit more emotion. The one that was going to haunt him forever.

With the front door opening, Hawks took one last look at you. A small smile tugged at the edges of his lips and you could clearly see the tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. Eyes full of both love and sorrow, eyes that you had grown to adore more than anything else in the world for the very last time connected with your own.

"Thank you for everything, (Y/n)."

And with that, the door closed.

There were a few seconds of ear deafening silence before Hawks flinched upon hearing the heart breaking sobs coming from the inside of the apartment. Your whole world was wrecked within not even 15 minutes and the worst part of it all is that you didn't understand why.

Spreading his wings out,  Hawks took one last look back at the apartment. At the place he once considered home. One where he had made his most cherished memories at and a place he had considered his safe place for oh so long.

It didn't matter anymore, what he did was to keep you safe. Something he had sworn to do the moment he first laid his eyes on you, a promise he was going to keep for as long as he lived.

In this case it had meant cutting all ties he had with you, to make you seem like a stranger to both himself and the people he worked with. The thought of you getting hurt by the league just for being involved with him, something that made you the perfect blackmail material, was a thought that haunted him. It was for your safety..

Now that he lost you, Hawks had nothing to lose. Not a home, not a future or..someone he loved. He was back to the very start, rope tied around his throat pulling him forward with no clear destination. Everything was numb. His mind, his body, everything.

A hero who had nothing left to lose was a hero who didn't care if he lived or died. Someone who didn't care for a pathetic title or name, it didn't matter.

With the moon peaking through the cloudy sky, light cascading down the hero's crimson feathers. With a few of his feathers supporting the sports bag, the hero took off leaving behind everything he once had.

There was nobody there to spot him, to freak out over seeing the number 2 hero flying over their heads or take pictures of him. Nighttime was the most peaceful time of the day to fly around for there were no worries just him soaring through the sky.

Hawks had no place to go in all honesty he hadn't thought this plan through entirely. He wasn't even sure if what he did was the best decision to make..maybe there was-..No. This was no time to have second thoughts on it, the damage had already been done.

With wings wrapping around his body, the hero dipped down towards the ground. The feeling of falling was always somewhat comforting. How gravity would pull him down, eyes closed for just a mere moment, while basking in the weightless feeling right before spreading his wings and gently landing on the ground, boots hitting the concrete.

"Took you long enough Mr. hero"

A tall dark figure emerged from within the shadows of the alleyway. There was no denying in the fact that the moment the hero caught sight of them, a chill creeped up his spine.

"Ah, give me a break had some trouble on the way here.." Hawks said with a grin, waving it off. A big sigh left his nose and he cracked his fingers.

"Well then, let's get to business, ha?..."

Hawks eyes narrowed the moment the man standing in front of him stepped into the light. Up close, the scars that littered his body looked even more disgusting. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about how he had gotten them.

"..dabi"

This job had to be the most complicated one Hawks had done before. He was a good liar, that certainly hadn't been the problem, but it was the fact he had to gain the league's trust. To convince them he was truly on their side, after all he was the #2 hero of Japan.

Dabi was, supposedly, the messenger and judge. He informed Hawks of all the things Shigaraki told him and demanded Hawks to do to prove himself. At the same time he'd judge Hawks, to see if he really was serious about all this and not a traitor.

The hero was walking on thin ice with every teeny tiny slip up that he could make resulting in the mission taking the worst possible turn. He had to be incredibly careful with what he said and did, continuously being watched by one particular villain that couldn't help but suspect him even after Shigaraki had given him an Ok.

Hawks was a good person that was too unfortunate to be forced into the situations he was put into. He was too unfortunate for getting attached to one of the villains, realizing that maybe after all some of them weren't that bad. Too unfortunate to have the years of training and manipulation take over his senses when he started to panic.

Hawks was a good person. He didn't mean to kill him. He never wanted to kill a somewhat good person.

He didn't mean to kill twice.

His mind was screaming. He had to keep his cool, had to keep himself together because he didn't have time to think for Dabi was already right on his ass with an intend to end his miserable ass.

Hawks hadn't thought about dying before. Well.. not like this. These last couple of weeks he thought he wouldn't care if he were to die. Its not like it really mattered anymore, after all there was nothing left for him. He was alone, back to living as a living puppet working for a corrupt hero agency.

It didn't matter anymore. None of it did.

He regretted leaving you behind that night. He should've turned around when he heard u cry, should've went back inside to cradle you in his arms. He wanted you back so badly. He didn't care if it was selfish, he wanted to leave everything behind and grow old with you, to hold you in his arms one last time.

Oh how he'd do anything to be able to touch you one last time..to apologize and tell you he loved you.

His wings were gone. The wings he knew you always admired from afar and run your fingers through, ripped out of his body leaving nothing but broken bloody bones sticking out of his back. He'd never be able to fly again, never be able to feel the freedom of being in the sky.

A boot was crushing his neck slowly making him suffocate, the villain looking down on him with an almost psychopathic smile on his way.

"Haha! Poor little Keigo Takami, seems like you've wasted your pathetic little life ,huh? And that calls himself the #2 hero?! Would've expected better from the hero association!"

Hawks felt numb. Without his wings he wasn't even worthy for the hero association, he'd be nothing. All of the sacrifices he made, all if the training didn't matter anymore. He was nothing.

As his sight got fuzzy, Hawks felt himself growing tired. Eyelids growing heavy, breathing slow and his whole entire body was exhausted. Something in him was screaming at him to stay awake but he pushed it away, simply too tired to care for it.

As he started giving in to the slumber, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to the image of you. From the day when he first met you to when the two if you worked together that one night. The day when he first fell your lips on his own and held you in his arms. He never particularly liked his name nor did he hate it, but whenever you called out for him it sounded like a sweet melody he couldn't get enough of.

"Keigo, you should rest"

...maybe he should.

Right before falling unconscious he could feel a faint force ramming into him but it didn't matter anymore, none of it did.

Finally..he could rest

..

Hospitals always had the most unpleasant smells. It was the mixture of chemicals and people who had been in bed all day that now smelled like sweat. Of course there was also the uncomfortable atmosphere. Most people were there to get tested for something or because they were sick. How such a thing would end were, in some cases, very unclear. Even the interior of hospitals were unsettling, bright white walls that blinded you whenever someone woke up from surgery and the rest of the cold colors they used for the furniture weren't exactly pleasing to the eye either.

He wasn't sure what happened, how he got there and how the battle ended. But when he opened his eyes, Hawks found himself laying on his side. It was very clear from the moment be got used to the darkness around him and the fact his whole body was aching with bandages wrapped all around him that he was in a hospital bed, his eyes following the IV tube to the bag hanging from the stand.

It didn't take a detective for him to notice that his wings were gone, completely. He wasn't sure if there was maybe some sort of bone structure left behind but the chances were incredibly small. It was weird, suddenly missing a big part of his body that he carried with him for 23 years. Like it had never been there.

It was nighttime and the curtains were still open. Perhaps the nurse had forgotten to close them. Its not something that he minded, after all he found comfort in being able to look outside at the very empty parking lot and street. There wasn't a soul out there and judging by how high the moon stood in the sky it was very late at night maybe around 3-4 am.

While pushing himself up to sit, Hawks was met by a horrible throbbing feeling on the inside of his skull. "Ahh, fuck" He hissed while taking his head in his hands, applying a bit of pressure to try and lessen the pain somehow.

His throat was dry, was there a sink? Lifting his head up, the hero took a quick look around the room his eyes still adjusting to the darkness. In all honesty it felt like a weird fever dream, waking up at night in a hospital that now felt very isolated and somewhat peaceful.

Perhaps he really was dead and this was a test god was putting him under to prove himself. Or he was just stuck alone in this world being forced to live forever as a clipped bird. The after life.

His breath was stuck in his throat, golden brown eyes widening. If he really was dead, he'd currently be in heaven, for there was no other way that the person currently sitting on the chair next to him with their head leaning on the bed as they clung onto the side of the pillow he was laying on was something other than an angel.

No, Hawks didn't believe in heaven or hell and he most definitely was aware of the fact he wasn't dead because the throbbing pain in his back and in his head could not of have been something a dead person should be able to experience.

"(Y/n)..?"

You stirred in your sleep, just slightly. Eyebrows scrunched together lightly as you buried your head into the mattress of the bed, hand gripping the pillow you were clinging onto a little harder. Lips puckered like a fish, light eye bags underneath your eyes and smudged mascara around your eyes. You looked exhausted and Hawks couldn't get enough of the sight before him.

Had you been here the whole time? Judging by all the get well soon cards pricked onto the whiteboard on the wall it had atleast been a good few days. There was a fresh bouquet of red and yellow flowers on the table near the window, a pretty big one at that.

Only then did he notice the crumbled up card laying on top of all the trash in the trash can. He couldn't exactly make out what was inside of the card, but he could very clearly see the logo stamp on top of it which belonged to the hero association he worked for. He immediately smiled at the most possible scenario being that you had seen it and gotten mad at them. After all, you never backed down with expressing your pent up feelings about the people he worked for when you two talked about it.

His mind slowly wandered back to your last encounter with each other, face immediately falling when he heard your cries echo in his head right before he took off that night. Hawks treated you horribly and yet here you were, clinging onto the pillow he once laid on. Maybe you only came so you could yell at him for hurting you, for laughing at him for being pathetic and having lost everything he had.

But you were here. Beside him. He didn't know what god thought he deserved a second chance in life and especially what god allowed him to see you again but god was he thankful.

Slowly laying down back on the bed, wincing slightly when he back made contact with the mattress, Hawks turned on his side so he was facing you. To him, you were the most breathtaking person that walked this earth. From the tip of your nose, to the cheeks he loved to squeeze so much to your parted soft lips.

He loved having you on top of him on the couch, your face squished into his chest as you dozed off into sleep. A moment where he'd turn off the tv and admire you, hand gently massaging your head and a thumb very softly tracing over the details of your face.

His fingers reached out for your face, golden eyes softening when your nose scrunched up a little the moment his thumb traced over it. He really must of have been a saint in his previous life for him to be so lucky to have met you, to have been allowed to love and be loved by you.

You looked so breathtaking like this, so peacful and content as if you hadn't spent days sitting on the same chair ignoring the nurses telling you to go away while worrying your head off. At one point you even pulled out your license, showing you worked for Endeavour and said you had to keep a close call on Hawks to make sure he wouldn't fall 'victim' to another attack.

Hawks shuffled his body a little closer to your head, breath fanning over your face with your face cradled by his hands. Taking one more close look at your face, the man smiled softly before he closed his eyes and leaned in. Lips softly pressed against your forehead, ones that stayed there for a few seconds before he backed up again.

"I'm so sorry, baby bird.."

It was a mere whisper, only loud enough for the both of you to hear. He wasn't even sure if there was someone else in the room, but he couldn't care less. There was a small lump im his throat, one he tried very desperately to swallow but to no success.

It was the moment that your eyes slowly opened, hands reaching out to rub the sleepiness out of them before widening when yours met a pair of golden ones that it disappeared. When your bottom lip trembled and your eyes watered, hand moving to cover your mouth as the tears started falling from your eyes.

Hawks smiled and lifted his hand, just slightly for his arm still hurted. He could absolutely miserable but he wasn't even aware of that. Of how bloodshot his eyes were or how half of his face was wrapped in bandages. Or how the bandages om his back had light crimson stains on them from his wounds still bleeding here and there. It was a horrifying way of seeing the one you cared about.

"Hey.."

Even his voice sounded like utter shit. As if the man had been a chainsmoker for the last 30 years.

"K-keigo.."

You didn't care if it hurt him, the damage wouldn't be that bad anyway. The moment you heard what had happened your heart stopped. The last month felt like your world collapsed. The home you shared was quiet and the bed you shared was empty and cold. Kicking your chair back you lunged forward, arms wrapping around his fragile body very careful not to touch the wounds on his back.

"Y-you..fucking a-asshole.."

Hearing things from him from Endeavour was extremely painful but what was more painful was, after he had already been hospitalized, hearing what he had hidden from you and why. The fact he didn't bother to tell you, way too caught up with the thought of you getting hurt.

"..are you stupid? We're a team aren't we!?For fucksake i work for Endeavour, Keigo i can protect myself. L-leaving me like that.. Y-you selfish bastard!"

Hawks groaned slightly at the way you were currently squeezing his body. He didn't hesitate for a second before be wrapped his arms around you and buried his nose into the crook of your neck. He didn't think he'd ever be able to hold you again, to be able to feel you like this and have you so close.

Even though you smelled like hospital and sleep, Hawks could easily pick out the smell of your perfume out of it. It was faint, incredibly faint, but he missed it so much.

He could feel your hot tears falling onto his shoulder and how your teeth chattered, it made his heart ache. All he could do was wrap your legs around his waist while pulling you even closer. He needed to feel you, to feel your arms around him.

"I'm sorry, dove..I'm so sorry for hurting you." He whispered, hands bawling your shirt into a fist. It felt so good to feel your hand going through his hair while your other arm rubbed his upper back, still careful not to touch the wounds on his back.

You wanted to be mad at him, you really did. For the fact be broke your heart and left you crying, for leaving without saying why, underestimating you, fighting in a war without saying a word and getting hurt like this only to leave you worrying for several days by his side day and night.

But you couldn't be mad at him. I mean, you were, but being in his arms like this was something you had been craving for weeks. To feel his warmth envelop you the moment his arms snaked around your waist and to feel him kissing you shoulder several times before nuzzling his face into it.

Furiously wiping your tears from your eyes, sniffling and letting out choked sob. "Don't you ever leave me like that again, i swear i'll-"

"Could never leave you, you're stuck with me now.." Hawks with a smile, slowly backing up from the hug to take a good look at your face. The moment he saw your teary eyes his gaze softened before he brought his hand to your face to wipe them off your cheeks. "..stuck with me for the rest of your life. After all i'm gonna need someone who's gonna take care of me."

The exaggerated sigh leaving his mouth together with the roll of his eyes made you chuckle. He always found ways to joke around and cheer you up but he still knew the right things to say and do to calm you down. "Shut up you birdbrain, god you're the absolute worst." You said with a laugh while his thumb continuing to wipe the tear, and some remains of mascara, underneath your eyes away.

With his hands cupping your cheeks Hawks couldn't help put press his forehead against your own before closing his eyes.

You were there. With him. There was no more hero association that would make his head explode, no more worries or things he had to do. Just you and him. Maybe, just maybe, Hawks would allow himself to be selfish. Selfish enough so he could work on a future where only you and him provided off, to be able to call himself your husband and to grow old with you. To stay by your side the rest of your life no matter what. Everything he ever wanted lied in that future.

"I love you.."

It didn't matter anymore. The ropes were gone and he didn't care what lied ahead because he was holding onto your hand as you guided him. This time he didn't care where he ended up, as long as he had the hand he was holding onto in his he'd be fine. Perfectly fine.

As a hand tangled into his hair, Hawks didn't hesitate a second before he connected his lips with yours. Never before had he needed it so bad, to feel your lips against his own and had he missed it so much. His hands moved to settle on your waist and neck, immediately deepening the kiss and sighing in content when your arms wrapped around his neck.

All those sleepless nights, those moments of doubt and when he couldn't help but think about his regrets moments before he collapsed..To have you here in his arms was the only thing he wanted.

As the two of you parted ways, Hawks was quick to peck your lips as a quick cherry on top. The kiss lingered for quite a moment and the both of you were catching your breath.

"I should probably go get the nurse.." You said under your breath still a little caught off guard by the previous event and what had happened in the last ten minutes. Your eyes were still wet and your nose still runny, but the way your cheeks had heated up made up for it in some type of way.

Pushing yourself off of Hawks to fetch someone who was doing the night shift, you were very quick to be stopped by a hand who clung onto your own. When you looked back at the man, you were met by a pair of pleading golden eyes.

"Stay.."

Upon hearing his request your eyes widened for a moment.  It really was pretty late already, so bothering the nurses at this hour was not something you wished to do so especially since it wasn't exactly that important. After all, Hawks would be awake in the morning as well.

"..please"

He guided you onto the bed with him, hand still in your own, and shuffled backwards so that there was room for you next to him. Your body had given in, simply too tired to protest and with the way the mattress, blanket and arms looked so incredibly warm snd comfortable you really just wanted some sleep.

While being careful not to rip out any of the tubes attached to his body, you laid down next to him and immediately cuddled up against his chest. Face buried in his neck, arm immediately snaking around your waist to hold you closer and a soft pair of lips pressing against your forehead. It was like it had been weeks since you had a good night's sleep and didn't take long before sleep had won its battle against you sending you off to dreamland.

"Goodnight, dove.."

Hawks whispered while running his fingers through your hair, pushing it back so he could press another kiss to your forehead.

Even though Hawks had already been asleep several days, he was exhausted. It had been so long since he was able to sleep comfortably like this, his eyelids were screaming at him.

Hawks didn't know what the future was gonna hold for him. Whether he'd somehow be able to get his wings back or if he'd ever be able to work as a hero again. Everything was incredibly uncertain but right now, on this way too small for two people if not cuddled up hospital bed, everything felt like where it should be.

Just you and him. Nobody else or anything else getting in the way.

With a smile on his face Hawks closed his eyes and allowed himself to be taken over by sleep. Clipped bird or not, no matter what happened Hawks was gonna do anything in his might to keep you happy and that was a promise he was gonna hold onto for as long as he could.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks imagine #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

[writingsbychlo]

let me down slow (epilogue)

word count; 2830

summary; it’s moving day, and stiles is getting his dorm all set up with the sheriff, while you and mitch still have a considerable amount more unpacking to do.

notes; I know some of y’all didn’t like the events of part eight, but you’re just gonna’ have to deal with it, because they’re adorable, it was all a misunderstanding, and they deserve the world.

warnings; none, really. some vaguely dirty innuendoes, that’s it.

Smoothing your hands over the poster on the wall, you pressed it flat to the plaster, holding it steady as Stiles pinned it down straight, and you cheered once the final one was up, the collection of Star Wars posters lining the walls making the room seem entirely perfect for your best friend. Hopping down from the bed, you smoothed out the covers, before letting both of your hands fly up to meet Stiles’ in a set of high fives, and the pair of you cheered as you took it all in.

“It’s really getting there!”

The oversized corkboard he loved so much was sitting against one wall, a shelf you’d spent almost an hour trying to put up between the pair of you as the Sheriff laughed was now assembled, with three baskets sitting along it. The first contained bundles of assorted pins and paperclips for putting up the vast assortment of photos and collage pieces that added, the space freshly cleared so that he could build it up ready for the new year. The second basket contained his camera, with a selection of different types of film for interesting shots, and the third was filled with pens and note pads for all the annotations and quotes he would put under each picture. 

The opposite wall was lined with six matching Star Wars posters, showing off the promotional pictures and titles of the originals and the prequels, a prized possession that you’d bought for Stiles as a graduation present, so that he didn’t have to take his collection at home down and travel them across the country. His desk was already cluttered with notebooks and pens, and the closet was brimming with flannelled shirts. The bookcase was stacked with textbooks and DVDs. Above the desk was pinned a campus map, class schedule, time table and a calendar, all for his convenience, because Stiles had already voiced his desire to cram as many college experiences into his first year as he possibly could, he wanted to live life to the fullest.

Along the windowsill were photo frames with his favourite pictures of everyone from back home, and he was proudly staring at the final few boxes on the floor, as his dad carried the last one in, the final clothes he had ready to be unpacked into the set of drawers beside his bed, your hand coming up to wipe across your forehead in false exhaustion as you looked around. 

“It’s fitting for you, kid.”

His voice was a little rough, and you could tell that the Sheriff was holding back his emotions as he sent his youngest son off to college, too. He held his arms out of you both, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he let out a string of curses at the affection, but pressed his face into his father’s neck as he wrapped around one side of his body, not covering the little sniffle he let out as well as he thought he had. You were quick to follow in his footsteps, tucking yourself happily under the older man’s chin, and you squeezed the two men in a tight hug. 

You easily remained that way, knowing that the two were each trying to hide their emotions, and you smiled to yourself at the thought, rolling your eyes softly. “You know, dad, I’m going to be checking with Melissa that you’re still eating healthy. Don’t think you can start eating bacon and fries every day now just because I’m gone.”

“You’re the worst.”

You giggled as he pushed you both away, but he ruffled your hair fondly, and you decided to lighten the mood a little, turning to swipe the camera from its place on the shelf, checking it was loaded with film before handing the polaroid device over to Noah. “I think we need to take the first picture to put up, don’t you?”

Stiles gasped, nodding happily before turning to you, and you pressed your hands to his shoulder once he’d turned back to face his father, and you jumped up as high as you could, sealing you legs above his hips and he gripped at your thighs, letting out a laugh as you landed on his back, your hands wrapping around his neck. With the cheesiest grin that you could muster, the Sheriff gave you a count down, before clicking the camera and waiting as the small piece of paper pushed it’s way out of the device, before handing it over to you both and putting the camera down on the desk.

Holding up the little slip, he waited patiently as the colour began to drip into it, the picture slowly revealing itself, and you let out a squeal once it became properly formed, so that you could see the image clearly. “I love it! Pin it!”

You tapped his shoulders, and he moved eagerly across to the board, selecting a pin and pushing it through the card, securing it to the very centre of the board. Only a second later, he was grabbing a red pen and a yellow post-it note, scribbling down a reminder before adding the note to the photo, and you peaked over his shoulder to read it. 

‘Move-in Day, August 2020’

You grinned, taking the pen and adding a little heart to it, before placing your hands on your hips and looking around the room. The phone you’d left on the bedside table a while ago buzzed loudly, chiming a little tune as it did, and you jumped at the interruption. Stiles moved across the room for you, picking up the device before letting out a long groan, and you chuckled at his reaction, already knowing who it must be.

“It’s my brother. Your boyfriend. Ew, I hate the sound of it, still.” You grinned at his words, sticking your tongue out as you took it from him, scanning your eyes over the message, before reaching for your bag and sealing the device inside, lifting it up onto your shoulder. “Time to go?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. You’re unpacking these last few boxes alone.” You joked, and he huffed, kicking at one lightly with the toe of his shoes. 

“Not alone, Dad is here to h-”

“Dad is going back to the hotel to rest his back and take a shower. Stiles is alone and putting his own laundry away for the first time in his life.” His dad grinned, and the boy let out a whine at it, stomping his foot a little before giving in. 

“See you tonight, at the restaurant?”

“We will meet you there.” His face scrunched up once again.

“I can’t get with the referring to you and Mitch as a ‘we’. I’m not used to it.” You shrugged, but leaned up to press a friendly kiss to his cheek, before letting him wrap you up in a tight hug, and brush his lips to your temple. “I’ll get used to it. I’m just glad you’re happy.”

His dad left the room, leaving you both to your moment, even though you were only saying goodbye for a few hours, but he was a little jittery once the door had closed. 

“Can I tell you something, before you go? I don’t want it to be a big deal, but I do want to tell you first.” You nodded, brows furrowing as he fiddled with his fingers between your bodies worriedly, and you reached up to place your hand over his own, letting him lace your fingers together. “Now that I’m not obsessing over Lydia anymore, and I’m in college and really taking a minute to get to know myself, I think I discovered something.”

“Is it good?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I think so.” He was nervous, biting down on his lower lip, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly in an attempt to tell him that it was okay. “I think I might be bi.”

A blushing tinge spread over his cheeks, his eyes ducked to avoid your own as the heat spread up to his ears and painted his pale skin pink, and you leaned in to press your body to his, your arms wrapping around him tightly, and he let out a deep sigh, before wrapping himself around you once again, his body sagging out of relief. 

“There was this guy in my welcome lecture, and he was really good looking, and while I was still in my Lydia phase I didn’t really think about anyone else that way, so I was pretty shocked when my first thought was about a guy, but then he asked me if I wanted to get coffee before the semester starts, and I said yes. We’ve been texting for a few days, now.” The words came out jumbled and hurried, and you stepped back to look at him, making sure to catch his gaze as he gave you a nervous smile. 

“I’m so happy for you, Stiles.”

“I’m going to tell my dad and brother at dinner tonight, but I just needed some support.” You nodded, before stepping back as he let out a relieved laugh and wiped a hand over his face. “God, I feel so much better. I hate keeping things from you. I don’t know how you did it for months, having secrets with you kills me.”

“It wasn’t without a lot of suffering, trust me.”

He grinned, before nudging you towards the door. “See you in a couple of hours.” You simply nodded, waving your goodbye to the Sheriff as he chatted with the other parents of Stiles’ various roommates for the year, and you made your way to the door, stepping out into the corridor. 

With hurried steps, you made your way down the stairs, knowing it would be quicker than taking the elevator, and you were just glad Stiles was living on the first floor, you really weren’t sure he’d be able to handle hiking up twelve layers worth of stairs to the top floor on a tired day if the lift ever broke. 

It wasn’t a short walk to the place you had promised to meet your boyfriend, and the walk was enjoyable, hot sun shining down and a light breeze carrying through the campus, cooling you down from the heat. Shuffling through your bag, you searched for your sunglasses, lifting them out to place them on your face, and letting out a happy sigh when you no longer had to squint. 

You could already see the man you were waiting to meet, his body coming into view as he sat on the edge of the fountain, scrolling idly on his phone as he waited for you, the bag slumped on the floor beside his feet was spilling out with textbooks and his laptop, and his hair was messy from constantly running through it. Picking up your speed a little, you made your way over to him and took up before him, your shadow falling across him. He glanced up, expression stoic and stony before he realised who it was, and his face split open in a wide grin as his entire demeanour brightened. 

“Thought you were standing me up for a second there. You’re late.”

“Yeah, well, I got caught up. You can believe that I will never just leave you hanging.” You offered, and he scooped up his bag, swinging the strap over his shoulder before standing up, and he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

Pulling you in towards himself, he bumped the tip of his nose with your own, before letting out a sigh. “I know you wouldn't.” He pressed his lips to your own, a sweet kiss that made your heart thud and your mind spin, before you were pushing up into him a little further. Resting your hands on his shoulders, his own slipped down to your waist, holding your body to his as his mouth moved with your own in gentle rhythms, and giving you one final peck when he pulled away. “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely.” He took your hand in his, pulling you away toward the direction of the apartment the two of you had so carefully chosen together, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked. He twisted, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, and you squeezed you hand in acknowledgement of his affections. “Guess who I ran into earlier?”

“Who?”

“The redhead from a few weeks back.” He stiffened underneath you, only relaxing when you paused, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips as he fixed you with a worried glance. “Her name is Cassandra, which you never told me, and she’s actually really nice. We arranged to go for coffee.”

He practically choked on his breath, turning to look at you with wide and worried eyes as he held the door to the building open for you, and you slipped through, letting him follow as you laughed lightly at his reaction. “What was she doing there?”

“Her friend was moving into Stiles’ building, and she was helping out.” You shrugged, the two of you stepping into the elevator and you were glad to be alone, leaning back against the wall and pushing your glasses up onto the top of your head to peer at him, raising a brow. “Hey, stop freaking out. I can see the cogs working in your head. She asked about us, you know.”

“What did she say?”

“Just wanted to know if I was all good, and if things worked out.” You shrugged a little, your glasses slipping on your head, and you detangled them from your loose hair and put them away once again. “I told her that we’re doing amazing, and that I’ve never been so happy, and that we have a place together with a whole bunch of plans for the future.”

He finally let his shoulders drop from the tension he’d built up, before tucking some hair away behind your ears and stepping in towards you, crowding you into the wall a little further. “Never been so happy, huh?”

“Totally and one hundred percent in love with you.”

“I love you too.” He whispered the words into your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you, barely getting a chance to do so before the elevator was chiming and the doors were sliding open. You grinned in the kiss as he huffed out, pulling away and letting the two of you walk along, both of you patting down your bags to find your keys, but he found his own first, and lifting the set up to the door to open it.

Boxes still littered the room, labelled with things to be unpacked and brought out, but whereas Stiles had been unpacking only one room, the two of you had been unpacking an entire apartment, and there was still a lot to buy and a lot to set up, the flat-pack furniture box holding the coffee table the two of you had yet to assemble was sitting with coasters out and rings on top from drinks, using it for its purpose before it was even constructed. 

“We’re still on for dinner with Dad and Stiles, right? I don’t think we have any leftovers from last night’s takeout and I’m too lazy to go for a supermarket trip.” He flopped down onto the couch, and you nodded, hanging up your bag on the hooks and taking your phone from it, running you fingers through your hair and tugging on some of the knots that had built up.

“Yes, we are. Are you going to get changed, or wash up?”

“No, I'm going to take a nap.” He grinned, settling along the couch and tucking a hand behind his head, pouting his lips when he felt you lean over him. Pressing a soft and quick peck to his lips, you brushed some hair off of his forehead and out of his eyes, before standing up. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to take a shower before we go.”

You jumped when his eyes snapped back open, and he rolled up from the couch, grinning cheekily as his hands found your hips and he turned you around. “You know what, maybe I should wash up. We haven’t christened the bathroom yet, and I bet you look great on your knees in the shower.”

He tapped your ass cheekily in a light spank, and you gasped at the impact, but laughed anyway as he guided you through the halls, tugging at the bottom of your sundress as you went, until he had the material over your head, dropping it to the floor in the doorway to the bathroom. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You love it.” He teased, switching on the water and waiting for it to get hot as he stripped himself down, and you let out an exaggerated sigh. 

“I love you.”

“Good, because I love you too.”

#mitch month #mitchtober #mitch-tober #mitch rapp #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp/reader smut #mitch rapp american assassin #LMDS #let me down slow #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan obrien american assassin

[supernatural-jackles]

The Arrangement

Title: The Arrangement

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,376

Warnings: Hunt Gone Wrong, SPN Level Angst, Anxiety, Mentions of Sex,  Tears, Cuddles, Fluff. 

Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, you take Dean up on the extremely useful  arrangement you both agreed on many years ago to help you get through the night. 

Squares Filled: Hurt/Comfort ( @spngenrebingo​)  Hunt Gone Wrong ( @spndeanbingo​)

A/N: Here is a lovely comfort fic for your Sunday evening! I hope y’all enjoy this one! It’s one of my favourites I've written in a while. This one was to cheer up my friend Help You Anon! Happy Reading!

 There were three things you were certain of in your life. One, monsters were most definitely real. Two, Bert and Ernie are gay. And three, you only have one person in the world that is solely made for you. Granted believing number one single handedly goes with number three and number two you know because Dean embedded in your head all those years ago. Either way, you knew them all to be true.

 You had been in the backseat of Dean’s ‘67 impala since you were twenty years old. Twenty and terrified of what had just happened right before your eyes. You were in the midst of studying for your midterm in the middle of the night. You had taken up the fourth couch in the library, not wanting to go back to your dorm room with your bitchy roommate still in there. You were about to fill up your cup of coffee when the lights flickered and the library went cold suddenly. You never believed in that sort of thing before. Not until you saw it with your own two eyes. An angry lady standing by the coffee station, blood dripping from her eyes as she stepped closer to you. You screamed and cried out, only to be thrown into the bookshelf. She almost finished you off when someone came rushing to you, slicing through her with what was a rod you used for a fireplace.

 Dean Winchester.

 You had been thrown pretty hard according to Dean. He helped you pack up your stuff before taking you to the hospital to get checked out. You had a minor concussion and needed about eight stitches for your arm that you didn’t even realize. He sat with you, making sure you were okay before he gave you what was now known as the talk.

 After that, you decided to join him on the road. Knowing what you know, you were never going to be able to live the same. You were going to be paranoid and vulnerable and you didn’t want to live your life scared. He offered to train you up and teach you what he knew about everything. You never looked back and most days, you didn’t regret it.

 In that time, Dean became your best friend. He was your mentor, your best friend, your partner in crime. That’s all it ever was. You knew each other like the back of your hand and it came in handy a lot of the time. You knew all his tells better than Sammy, and he knew all of yours. Somewhere along the line, it became the unspoken arrangement between the two of you. Eventually, the two of you came up with a check in system that seemed to work well for the arrangement. Purple means I’m not doing good and really need you right now. Black means sex. Green means I’m okay, I just don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Red means I need a distraction. White being I need to be alone for a little while. And blue, everything is okay.

 Over time, you became less and less about talking and more about taking what you need without asking permission for it. At first, it was a little awkward, but you grew into it quickly. After a rough hunt, you’d share a bed and curl into one another for that safety you needed. It started out that way. Some hunts were worse than others and needed special attention. Cuddling would sometimes turn into sex. Sometimes it was just sex. It was something that worked between you when nothing else did. When nothing else seemed to make it better. You found the comfort in his touch and the feel of his skin on yours. But it never went any further than that. You knew the life you lived. You knew it was short and dangerous. It was no life for love.

 You were on your way back from a hunt in Omaha. One of the hardest ones you had in awhile. Maybe it felt so bad because things had been looking up and this was a major set back. Or maybe it was the fact that things had gone so horribly wrong in the blink of an eye. All you knew was that you felt like a failure. Dean hadn’t said a word since the warehouse and for the first time in a really long time, Sam was pissed at both of you. It made for a really awkward ride home. Granted it was only three hours, but it felt like a lifetime.

 Dean pulled into the bunker’s garage just after midnight. Sam was the first one out, slamming the car door before stalking off into the bunker. Dean only got more angry as soon as the door slammed, following him back into the bunker, hot on his tail. You took a deep breath, kicking your door open to head in. You hated it when they fought. Every argument was the worst, more so when one of them stormed off without coming to terms with everything.

 You tiptoed into the library, both of their voices filling the bunker loud and clear. Hell, even if you were on the other side of the bunker you could hear them going at it. You swallowed hard, knowing full well that you didn’t want to get involved in it.

 “You knew full well what we were getting into and you still thought it was a good idea to go in just the three of us instead of waiting like I said we should have done,” Sam pointed out. His eyes narrowed at Dean as he stood on one side of the table.

 “None of us knew what we were walking into in there and you know it. None of us could have been ready, regardless of how many people we had,” Dean argued. “Besides that, who could have helped us Sam? Last I checked all we had was the three of us. Bobby is dead. Cas is MIA. Garth is a werewolf with a family to take care of. What, you want to call Rowena? Better yet, let’s take Jody and Donna, who have never handled demons before and have them play back up. What the fuck is your problem?”

 “My problem?” he scoffed. “My problem is this stupid macho ‘I can handle anything’ shit attitude you have when something doesn’t seem to be going our way. You give up at the first sign of trouble and jump into bed with her instead of having your head in the game. It’s shit like this that keeps happening and I’m sick and tired of losing, over and over again.”

 “We had one bad hunt,” you breathed out. “One in the last how many months?”

 “Sam, look. We’re all tired -”

 “Save it. I’m going to bed,” he scoffed, taking off out of the library and down the hall to his room. You let out a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. Dean stood there with his hands on the back of the chair, trying to control his breathing. You knew this was going to go one of two ways. The chair was going to go flying into the wall, or he was going to walk over and pour himself a drink.

 “You okay?” he asked you, turning his head to look at you.

 “Yeah,” you nodded, your voice barely there. “I’m just gonna go shower.”

 “Don’t wait up,” he swallowed hard. His words made your heart sink in your chest. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering if you should say something to him. Maybe that you lied when you said you were okay. He turned and headed over to pour himself a drink. There was no use. He had his mind set.

 You slowly wandered down the hall to your room. You knew you didn’t need a shower. You showered in the motel room to get all the blood off of you. If you scrubbed anymore, you’d start to bleed.

 You twisted the knob to your door, stepping inside before shutting it behind you. The room felt incredibly large. So much space for one person. You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes to try and relax. Visions of the hunt came crawling back. The bodies hanging from the rafters in the warehouse. Families. Loved ones. Demons were evil, nasty sons of bitches. Now that Crowley wasn’t King of Hell, they thought they could do whatever they wanted. You were seconds too late and couldn’t exorcise the guy before he killed his vessel in the worst possible way. It was jobs like this that made you hate your job as a hunter. It was things like this that made you want to hang it up and never look back.

 You shook your head, trying to get the searing image out of your head. You opened up your drawer, grabbing a pair of comfortable pyjama pants and an oversized shirt. You could feel the heavy weight settling in your chest. Your hands were starting to shake. You knew you had about ten minutes, fifteen tops before everything came crashing down. Fifteen minutes to get yourself to safety.

 You slipped out of your room as soon as you got changed. Your feet took you quickly to Dean’s room. If he couldn’t be there, then at least the smell of him was. Your hand twisted the knob, kicking the door open as you took another deep breath. The light in his room was already on and much to your surprise, Dean was in his room, standing at the end of his bed in his sweats and his navy blue henley. You wasted no time. You were over at him in an instant, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. Seconds later, his arms slipped around your back, holding you close to him.

 You had no idea how much you needed it until you got it. The smell of his body wash filled your nose, and his warmth coursed through you like a good glass of top shelf whiskey. This was exactly what you needed to begin to process the events that happened. He was what you needed.

 “Colour?” he muttered into the crook of your neck.

 “Purple,” you stuttered, tightening your grip on his shoulders. “You?”

 “Purple,” he whispered. “And a little bit of red.”

 “What do you need me to do?” you asked him.

 “I just want to feel you for a while,” he admitted. “What do you need from me?”

 “Close proximity,” you swallowed hard.

 “Climb into bed and I’ll be right in,” he assured you. You didn’t want to let go of him. You were needy and clingy and you didn’t want the cool air to hit you as soon as you let go. You knew he was coming right back to you. You reluctantly released him, slowly making your way over to his bed. The memory foam mattress did wonders for your back. His sheets were soft and his pillows were comfortable. His bed was the greatest place in the world, and the only thing that made it worth sleeping in was the man next to you. It was just a plain bed without him.

 Dean flicked the light out and shut the door completely. You rested your head on the pillow, waiting for him to slip into the bed with you. You could feel the tightness growing once more. Dean was the only one who seemed to make that go away. That’s why you were so certain that he was the one made for you. He was the one who was there for you, no matter what time or what it was about. He got you like no one else did. He was your one.

 He slipped his arm around your waist tugging you close to him. He positioned himself close to you, his leg fitting between yours, half of his chest pressed to you. His hand traced up to your cheek before he leaned in, giving you a soft peck on the lips that had your heart aching for more. You took a deep breath, settling against him. Your arms wrapped around his back, feeling the warmth of his muscles beneath your palms.

 “You lied to me,” he said with a soft smile.

 “You were mad. I didn’t want to push you after Sam,” you said softly. “Regardless, I still came in here looking for you. If I didn’t find you, I would have come back to the library. Or I would have texted you purple.”

 “It was a losing battle tonight,” he breathed out. “We weren’t going to make a damn difference even if we had gotten there two days before that.”

 “How can you be so sure?” you questioned.

 “Call it a gut feeling. They know how to toy with us,” he started. “They like theatrics. Chances are, that meatsuit was deep fried extra crispy before we got there. He would have been a mess.”

 “Doesn’t take away what happened in there, Dean. It doesn’t take away the fact that I saw those poor lifeless bodies hanging there. All that blood. This job sucks so much sometimes,” you confessed. “And it’s terrifying to know that it could happen to you and Sam and take the two of you away from me. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.”

 “We’re not going anywhere,” he assured you. “Even if Sam’s pissed at us right now.”

 “He’s cranky,” you shrugged. “He might be better in the morning.”

 “Yeah. Sleep usually helps him,” he nodded. “What about you? Are you going to be okay?”

 “I don’t know yet,” you swallowed hard. “I’m so on edge right now. My chest is tight, and I feel shaky. Like at any second, I’m going to have a panic attack and it’s only the start.”

 “So definitely purple for you,” he frowned.

 “I’m trying to be okay,” you mouthed, tears welling in your eyes. You felt a lump forming in your throat as you looked away from his gorgeous green eyes. You knew you would cave and everything would come crashing down.

 “I know you are,” he mumbled. “But it’s okay if you’re not. This life is hard, and it’s rough. We always get the short end of the stick. All we’ve got is each other to get us through the really bad stuff. And there is some really bad stuff.”

 “I hate the bad stuff,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And not being able to save people.”

 “I know, sweetheart,” he said softly, brushing the back of his knuckle over your cheek.

 “Purple,” you sobbed out, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You tightened your arms around him, squeezing him hard, as if he was going to disappear before your eyes. You felt his arms shift, pulling you into him. You felt the tears running down the sides of your face and into your hair. Your nose was filling with snot and your bottom lip quivered. You felt it with your entire body. At the same time, you felt a bit of release. You were safe in his personal space, like he had this bubble around you that no one could penetrate but you. All the warding in the world there to protect the both of you from harm's way.

 “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Let it all out. I’ve got you.” Man, did you let it out. You quaked beneath him as the sobs shot through you. The tears kept on coming, sliding down the sides of your face and into your hair. Dean’s hold never let up. His body was warm and welcoming with every tear that fell. His breathing was even, giving you something to match yours to.

 Eventually your nose got stuffed up and the tears fell less and less. Your breathing began to even out. You nuzzled into Dean’s neck a little more, relishing in the warmth of him so close to you. You never wanted to let go of him. You didn’t want to feel that cold fill the space between you again.

 “Colour?” you whispered.

 “To be determined,” he answered. “How are you holding up now?”

 “Better. Crying helped,” you nodded.

 “It usually does for you,” he half smiled. “I’m proud of you. You’re good at letting go when you need to and asking for help.”

 “So are you, Winchester,” you said, clearing your throat. Your voice hoarse from the tears. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit for how good you are doing. I draw my strength from you on the bad days. The days where I feel like shit, you’re there to pull me out of my funk. You’re the bestest friend a girl could ask for.”

 “I got scared tonight,” he confessed. “When I saw that family and the way he was looking at you. For a split second, I thought he was going to target you and take you away from me. That’s why I charged at him and why I didn’t question what I was doing. It was reckless and stupid, but when it comes to you - I don’t want to go through the pain of losing you knowing I could have done something about it. I won’t.”

 “Then you have to know that I won’t go through it again either, Dean. How many times have I lost you? How many times has something gone wrong to take you away from me?”

 “Too many,” he answered. “But you can get out of this life. Settle down somewhere and do whatever it is you want to do. You have a world of options. I have you and I have Sammy. That’s my life. I won’t lose either of you if I can help it.”

 “See, that’s where you are wrong, Winchester,” you swallowed hard. “I have you and I have Sam. You know the reason why I’m still in this with you. I can’t do this alone. Hunter life or regular life. At least when I’m here with you, I have a family. I need you and I need Sam. End of story.”

 “You’re just saying that because I’ve ruined all other men for you,” he winked.

 “Shut up, loser,” you scoffed playfully. “You got an answer for me?”

 “Green. Just need you to sleep next to me tonight,” he breathed out.

 “Big spoon or little spoon?” you questioned.

 “I’ll be big tonight. You look like you could use some arms around you still,” he smiled. You nodded your head as your eyes flicked up to his gorgeous green orbs. In a moment of confidence, you arched your head up, capturing his lips with yours in a sweet kiss.

 “Night De,” you muttered, turning in his arms. He settled down behind you, wrapping his arm tightly around your middle. He rested his head against yours, making himself comfortable. You placed your hand on his, nuzzling into the pillow.

 “Night Y/N.”

 Your eyes fluttered shut as you found comfort in his arms. A small smile played on your lips at the feel of him pressed against your back. There was no one else in the world you’d rather be with right now than Dean. Not even Sam could replace this man’s spot in your heart.

 “Mmmh, plaid,” you muttered.

 “Plaid?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

 “Multiple colours,” you whispered. “It’s a new one for us. Unless you want to use kaleidoscope instead.”

 “Depends,” he paused. “What does this one mean?”

 “It means, in this fucked up world we live in, there is no one in the universe I’d rather have next to me than you,” you revealed. “All the colours and then some in one. It’s my way of saying that I love you, Dean Winchester.”

 “Well then, plaid it is,” he chuckled. “‘Cause I love you too.”

 “Mhh, good,” you yawned. “Besides, I’m fairly certain you’re my soulmate at this point.”

 “I know you’re mine,” he said, tightening his arms around you. “Made for each other.”

 “And now everytime I steal your shirt, you’ll know I love you,” you giggled.

 “Best arrangement we’ve ever come up with,” he breathed out. “Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

 “Night handsome.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me going! 

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